The Shadow Protocol (15 page)

“How much will he remember?” she asked.

“From Wilmar? Only anything he specifically recalled from the implanted persona,” Kiddrick answered. “Other than that, nothing.”

“We’ll check, though,” said Tony. “Adam—what pets did Conrad Wilmar have as a kid? What were they called?”

Adam sat up. “He had …” He trailed off. “I don’t know.”

“The name of his high school?”

“I don’t know.”

“But he still remembers things like the day Wilmar was born?” said Bianca.

“Six twelve, six twelve,” Adam cut in before she could continue.

“Yes, like that. How does that happen?”

Kiddrick began to remove the skullcap. “The same way any memory is kept. Short-term to long-term transfer, if you go by the Atkinson–Shiffrin model.”

“I’m more of a Baddeley theorist myself, but I understand what you mean. If he brings something out of the persona’s memory, it stays in his?”

“Exactly.” He tugged the cap free. “All right, Adam, you can get down now.”

Adam climbed off the table. Unlike when he had hopped down as Wilmar, his movements were smooth, precise, with no wasted energy. He stood, watching the others impassively.

Bianca had a question. “Adam?”

“Yes?”

“You remember things from Wilmar’s memories—but do you actually remember what it was like to
be
him?”

A fleeting look of incomprehension. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember his feelings? The enthusiasm when he—I mean, you—were talking about his work, or the … the
shame
when you told us about his affair?”

“Meg Garner,” Kiddrick said quietly, chuckling again. “Who would have thought?”

Bianca shot him a dirty look before returning her attention to Adam, trying to judge what was going on behind his mask. But she could pick up nothing conclusive. “No, I don’t,” he said at last.

“Well, anyway,” said Kiddrick, “now you’ve seen that PERSONA works as advertised, you’ll need to know how to operate the device in the field. We’ll start the lessons tomorrow, at nine sharp.”

“I think we need to give Dr. Childs some time to acclimatize first,” said Tony, politely but firmly. “Considering that she’s just flown here from England with, what, one change of clothes?”

“Yeah, afraid so,” she replied. “I was rather under the impression that I’d be flying back home tomorrow.”

Tony smiled. “I’m sure our budget can stretch to a trip to Macy’s, at the very least. Can’t it, Martin?”

Morgan was less amused. “As I said earlier, Dr. Childs, we’ll set you up with everything you need while you’re here. We’ll take care of everything regarding your absence from Luminica as well.”

“That’s work—what about personal matters?” Tony asked. “Have you even told your family and friends about this yet?” One eyebrow rose slightly. “Boyfriend?”

“No, I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone,” she complained. “My parents’ll think I’ve gone mad when I say I’ve suddenly gone to the States for no reason I can tell them about. And no, I don’t have a boyfriend.” The eyebrow rose higher. She tried to hide a smile, feeling her cheeks flush a little at his suggestive attention.

“It’ll all be taken care of,” Morgan reiterated. “Okay, we still have some more points to cover, so Dr. Childs, if you’ll come with me?”

“Good to have you aboard,” said Tony as Morgan led her to the door.

“Thanks.” She gave him a small smile in reply, then glanced back at Adam.

His face was completely void of expression.

“You really are an utter shit, Roger,” said Bianca. “What the hell have you dragged me into?” Her tone was humorous, but it had enough of an edge to make it clear she was still angry about the situation.

Albion laughed. “Oh come on, Bianca. What’s life without a little adventure?”

“Your last little adventure ended with you getting shot.”

“If life were completely safe, it would be very dull. Besides, I’ve struck up quite a rapport with one of the doctors here. I think that once the whole tedious doctor–patient relationship issue is out of the way when I’m healed, I might see if she’s interested in becoming my next ex-wife.”

She shook her head, amused. “You never change, do you?” The amusement turned dark. “And speaking of ethics …”

Albion sighed. “Yes, I wondered how soon you’d bring that up.” He looked at a wall clock. “Fifty-three minutes! Longer than I’d expected.”

Bianca pulled her chair closer to the bed, frowning. “Seriously, though. From what Tony and Morgan told me, Persona’s mission seems to be to fly around the world, kidnap people, steal their innermost secrets, and then use them so that the CIA can pick targets for its robot death-planes.”

“The targets are terrorists and other deeply unpleasant people. We’re doing the world a favor.”

“I don’t want to sound like an absolute pinko hippie—”

“Too late for that!”

“—but terrorist
suspects
have rights, like anyone else—and one of them is ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ ”

“Things change in war.”

“You’re not a soldier. And I didn’t notice anyone else at STS wearing a uniform either. Not even so-called Admiral Harper.”

Albion cocked his head to one side. “Be careful when dealing with him, Bianca. Very careful. He’s not someone you want to make an enemy of. As the saying goes, you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”

“I don’t like him
now
!”

“Well, that makes two of us. But really, try to avoid pissing him off. Just grit your teeth and stand in for me, and think about all that money waiting when you get back to England. As for
how
you stand in for me, we’d better get back to your training.”

“What training?” she protested, holding up a notebook. “It only took you fifty-three minutes to explain everything!”

“Not that part of the training—I meant the part where you make it look as complicated as possible. If it seems too easy, they might figure out that they don’t need me anymore and kick me out.”

She smiled. “Don’t tempt me. Besides, I’m surprised they haven’t considered hooking
you
up to the machine so Adam can load up your persona and work out the doses himself.”

“I’m sure they
have
considered it. But fortunately—for me, at least—it wouldn’t be practical. We have a policy that a persona can only be imprinted on him once.”

“Why?”

“We found out the hard way that it causes … complications. So we don’t do it anymore.”

“What kind of complications?”

“Severe headaches, confusion—and worse. When you
only have one active agent, it’s not worth the risk of compromising his readiness.”

“Are there plans to recruit more?”

“People haven’t been lining up to volunteer.” He adopted a gung-ho voice. “
Gee, I sure do want to undergo experimental brain surgery so I can think like a terrorist!
I’m not sure how it would be worded on the recruitment posters.”

“So why did Adam volunteer?”

“I have no idea.”

She was surprised. “Really?”

“I know that he
did
volunteer, but he came to us—well, was presented to us, more accurately—from outside, about ten months ago. Harper had something to do with it. I think Adam used to be with SOCOM—Special Operations Command. Special Forces, in other words.”

“You think? You don’t know?”

He shifted in the bed, his discomfort more mental than physical. “Adam is rather the elephant in the room at the Persona Project. There’s an unofficial policy of, shall we say, limited fraternization. The team members are discouraged from getting too close to him on a personal level.”

Bianca made a face. “How does anyone have the right to decide who gets to be his friend?”

“It’s a US government black project. Rights don’t enter into things. They can order you to wear different-colored underwear depending on the day of the week, if they choose.”

“You’ve worked with him pretty closely, though. You must be able to tell me something more about him. And by something, I mean
anything
. Seriously! The man is a literal walking enigma.”

“Yes, I know. But there’s nothing more I can tell you.”

“Because you don’t know, or you’re not allowed to?”

A wry smile. “Perceptive as ever. Let’s just say I have to wear a particular color of metaphorical underwear on that subject.”

“Orders from on high, eh? From Morgan?” Albion’s eyes briefly flicked upward. “Higher? Harper?”

“No comment.” His smile widened. “But knowing you as well as I do, that won’t stop you from trying to find out for yourself, will it?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Positively see-through. But then, you are British—very pale-skinned from never getting any sun.”

She laughed. “Well, I doubt I’ll be in the States long enough to bring out my bikini, so I won’t be getting a tan. But …” She became more serious. “I don’t want to find out more about Adam just to spite The Man. There’s something … well,
wrong
. Not with him, but
about
him, if that makes any sense. Nobody’s that unreadable—nobody who’s still able to function, anyway. But Adam’s so blank I’d consider it a form of catatonic stupor if it weren’t for the rather obvious fact that he’s fully active and lucid.”

Albion’s demeanor suggested that he knew considerably more about the subject, but was not going to share it with her. “And you think you’ll help him?”

“If I can.”

“You haven’t changed much since you were my student,” he said. “Too tenacious for your own good.”

“You can’t achieve anything if you don’t stick at it.”

“Just make sure you don’t get completely stuck. Anyway!” He changed position again. “Time to polish up another of your student skills, and do some acting. I still need you to help keep my job!”

After another couple of hours at the hospital, Bianca returned to STS, driving the Ford Fusion that had been provided for her. The sedan was larger than her own car, and driving on the “wrong” side of the road in Washington’s traffic did not make the trip a comfortable experience. But the satnav, once she puzzled it out, at least meant that she didn’t get lost.

Tony was waiting for her in the fifth-floor lobby. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” she replied. “You look like you were expecting me.”

“I had the security system beep me when you used your ID to get into the elevator.” She had been issued with the card shortly before leaving the previous evening. “Thought I’d welcome you, it being your first proper day on the job.”

“I can’t exactly say I’m thrilled to be here,” she said, before softening a little. “Nothing personal.”

“No offense taken. How’s the car?”

“It’s nice. A bit too big with just me in it, though. Feels like I’m wasting petrol. Or gas, I suppose I should say.”

“STS is picking up the tab, so don’t worry about it. And the hotel?”

“It’s fine. It’s … a hotel.” She shrugged.

“We’ll set you up with an apartment soon. You don’t want to be living out of a suitcase the whole time you’re here.”

“However long that is.”

“So how is Roger, since that depends on him?”

“Well, he’s started making divorce plans, so that’s hopefully a sign of improvement.”

Tony laughed. “Sounds like he’s getting back to his old self.” They walked down a hallway.

“How long have you known him?” she asked.

“More than two years. Since I came to the Persona Project.”

“Two years? I thought Adam only joined ten months ago.”

“There was a lot of work needed to set things up. Let’s face it, what we do here sounds like science fiction—it’s complicated. And sometimes things didn’t go as planned.”

“But everything’s working fine now?”

“Yeah. Well, until Roger got shot.” They reached a set of security doors. Tony was about to use his card to open them, before smiling. “After you.”

Bianca put her own card in the slot, getting a green light. “That’s a relief. I’d hate to get a red light when I was running for the loo.”

They went through. “You’ve got access to pretty much the whole floor,” he said. “Everywhere except data storage and the weapons and equipment room.”

“What, you’ve got your own Q Branch full of guns and spy gadgets?”

“So we can mobilize quickly if we need to. It’s easier to have most everything we might need on site, rather than rounding it up from a dozen different places.”

“What about the rest of the building? You said yesterday that STS has everything above the company downstairs. Is Persona only on this floor?”

“Yeah. The floor below us is STS bureaucracy; it handles paperwork for operations here and at other STS facilities. The floor above’s like this one, with another Bullpen—projects can be assigned there if need be. There’s nothing active upstairs at the moment, though. Or if there is,” he added drily, “it’s so secret nobody’s told me about it. Then there’s a machine floor above that with air-conditioning, water tanks, that sort of thing. The building’s actually designed to be self-sufficient, by the way—if there’s a biological or chemical attack, it can be sealed up with its own air and water supplies for a few days. There are generators down in the basement.”

“I hope I don’t get a demonstration of that while I’m here!”