The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller (36 page)

I turned to him and glared. I had no idea what David’s actual rank was, what his official title was supposed to be, and all I had was a mere suspicion of his probable spookdom. That was it. At the very least, right now, he didn’t know for certain if he needed me or not. As far as I was concerned, that gave me the freedom to talk as I pleased.

“Sorry my inexplicable mental link isn’t working perfectly for you, David,” I snapped. “You could try some of your human rights violating shit to get it working again though? Extraordinary rendition? Waterboarding? Something classy like that perhaps? Although, with you up on your moral high horse today, wouldn’t something like that rather contradict your current stance?”

I was pretty pleased with myself for that, but to both my surprise and disappointment, David smiled. I’d never seen that before.

“For you, I’d make an exception,” he said, grinning, and I damn near pissed my pants. I found myself harshly reminded that this bookish-looking, miserable man could well be one of the most dangerous people I’d ever met. I tried to hide it, by simply shaking my head at him as bravely as I could, and went back to looking through the windscreen. We were already nearing the barracks.

“Okay, gentlemen, that’ll do for the pissing contest,” said Straub, looking at some notes on a clipboard she was carrying. “Mr Pointer, Mr Winter is waiting inside. You two will be put under escort and expected to immediately begin trying to identify Caementum’s latest target, if it all there is one. Maps and a GPS system have been provided. Caementum has shown no signs of movement since its arrival, not even so much as the straightening-up action it performed within the first sixty minutes of its previous visit. Police are on alert across the country, and quite frankly we’re hoping that you two together can give us, and them, a far greater head start.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, but I was starting to believe that my best wasn’t going to be good enough. I had nothing, after all, and I’d found myself expecting that to change the moment my feet touched the UK, but it obviously hadn’t happened. If physical contact with Paul didn’t do anything, then I was out of ideas. A horrible thought struck me:
what if that means everyone will think I’m some kind of fraud?
I’d be the laughing stock of every scene I’d become a part of. No, worse; I’d be hated.

But there was no time to think about that, as we’d actually driven around the barracks, not towards them as I’d thought, and were now pulling up outside another, smaller building. David and Straub were getting out, and so I did the same. We quickly entered into this other building, and I now found myself inside what appeared to be a medium-sized meeting room, the sort kept plain enough so as to be adaptable to suit whatever group of people was using it that day. At one end there was a large whiteboard with a rolled-up projector screen above it, and several rows of chairs. These were empty. The walls had large windows running along each side, and behind the last row of seats were several long tables, and
these
were occupied. I’d half expected more bulky computer terminals and lab-coated scientists running everywhere, but instead there were simply several normal-looking computers, a few soldiers, and a pair of nervous-looking and laminated pass-wearing civilians. I assumed these two were the sum total of the intelligence/science personnel we were getting here, as this was clearly not the main hub of operations. I surmised that this was some sort of a quick, mobile set up arranged for the benefit of my arrival, a halfway house of information where I could—ideally—quickly get the info they wanted so they could pass it back to the actual HQ. I thought this because, behind the farthest table back, looking intently at a computer screen of his own and wearing a T-shirt that said
No, YOU’RE ten minutes EARLY
, was Paul.

Despite the situation, I was delighted to see him. He looked up as we came in, and my delight turned to mild shock. He’d lost a lot of weight since our last handshake. He was still a big man, his size standing out in the spartan room, but his eyes were more sunken, and his general facial features were more defined, his skin slightly less healthy looking. He hadn’t turned into a zombie by any means, but it was clear that he had physically lessened in the last three months. He’d obviously had even more sleep troubles than he’d let on, and even darker issues than I’d suspected. It was concerning.

He grinned upon seeing me though, and then that twinkle was back in his eyes; he wasn’t a complete wreck yet. He came around the table, extending his hand, and I strode over, doing the same. I got the impression that he was equally pleased to see me, but as we drew closer, I saw his expression change to one of surprised realisation. I stopped walking, surprised myself. Paul cocked his head, raised an eyebrow and pulled his hand back towards himself, where he held it up for me to see.

I understood.

“Crunch time, eh?” I said, forcing a smile as my nerves spoilt my pleasure at seeing Paul. This would be the moment when I found out either that I’d let people die, people that I could have saved ... or that I was useless, and about to become a possible figure of public hate.

“Apparently you’ve not been able to get anything on the guy it’s here for … any changes since you landed?” Paul asked.

“Nope. This is basically shit or bust.”

Paul nodded slowly, then waggled his fingers and blew on them.

“Okey dokey,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I was about to say it’s good to see you, but I’ve got a feeling another bloody kick in the nuts is coming my way very shortly. We have to stop meeting like this.”

He smiled, wry but nervous, and slowly extended his hand again. I closed the distance between us, holding out my hand as I did so, and stopped just before touching his. I don’t really know why I hesitated. I was just very aware of the gravity of the moment, what hinged on it. I admit it; I was scared. Not only of the unpredictability of the situation, but frightened that nothing would happen. I could feel every eye in the room on us, from the soldiers to the civilians to Straub and David, who had hung back near the whiteboard as I’d approached Paul. Nobody said anything.

“Come on, then,” said Paul, wiggling his hand. “Reach out and touch someone.” But his eyes looked scared as well.

“Do you feel anything at all? I mean, have you felt anything?” I asked, almost in a whisper.

Paul shook his head.

“Nothing, buddy,” he said, softly. “No visions … not even a tingle. I’ve been telling them, but they’ve had me zooming in and out of GPS maps all day anyway.”

I let out a rush of air, trying to pump myself up, but I was even more nervous now. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Then I just thought
Fuck it,
thought somehow replaced by pure action, and grabbed Paul’s hand tight, bracing myself as I did so. I closed my eyes.

There was no change whatsoever.

I opened one eye, and saw Paul doing the same. He clearly had nothing either.

“Shit …”

His shoulders dropped, as did mine, but he didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he shook it.

“Well,” he said with a sad shrug, “before things get all crazy again … nice to see you, mate.”

I nodded, and clapped him on the shoulder in a rare moment of instinctive physical contact from me—I could see that he’d meant what he said, and I wanted him to know that the feeling was mutual—but I was crestfallen. Amazingly, there was no relief; now I knew that guilt wasn’t an issue, all I could think of was what I’d just become. Whatever connection I had to the Stone Man, it was now gone, or this was a different Stone Man altogether. I felt empty. I was convinced that I was probably going to be discredited, but even if that didn’t happen … I was surplus to requirements here. If there were answers to be found, they weren’t going to come from me; I wasn’t going to be the guy who solved the mystery. Effectively, I was nobody, because whoever
did
find out the truth, they would far outclass the guy who was there before them. They would be today’s news, the new golden boy or girl, and although my money was going nowhere, I realised that what I cared about were the trappings of being a media darling. I knew it ... and I didn’t care. In that moment, any thoughts of the moral implications of wanting to be a hunter again didn’t even penetrate, and all I could see was my social status slipping away, potentially replaced by a newcomer. I felt panic.

You can judge me. Just remember, you haven’t tried it. Whatever you might think of it, see if you get to try it, and then see if you want to give it up, however false it might be. Hell, maybe you would, maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just a shallow prick. I don’t care. You owe me, so fuck you. You all owe me.

Anyway.

I quickly tried to think of anything that was different. Could I still be in the loop, could I think of anything that had changed? If I could, I might be able to fix it. What had changed …

I sat on the nearest table and let my legs swing, lost in thought.

“Still nothing,” said Straub, and it wasn’t a question. Everyone else in the room visibly deflated, and tension was replaced by angry disappointment.

“Wait, wait,” I said, staring at the floor and waving a hand. “Let me think …” David was pulling out his walkie and shaking his head.

“It’s okay, Andy,” he said, using a lightly sarcastic tone as he put the walkie to his mouth, “we have some of the finest scientific minds in the world to do that for us, so we’re all right on that front. Thanks, though.” He pushed the button. “R7B, prep for helicopter pickup immediately, transport to Coventry ASAP.” The voice on the other end responded, and he pointed the walkie’s aerial in our direction. “We’re leaving in two minutes.” He turned to Straub. “I think this is a waste of time. It’s obviously not the same one.”

“What’s a waste of time?” asked Paul. I got the feeling that he’d dealt with David already today, and didn’t like him either.

“Second plan, if this didn’t work,” said Straub, answering for David. She sounded gutted, as if she had run out of options. “Authorised when you were getting nothing on the way over here, a last-ditch check. We get you near Caementum again, see if it makes any difference. Have to try it, at least.” She pointed to a door in the back wall. “There’s a toilet through there, and I’d advise using it if you haven’t been recently. Bird’ll be ready any second, and God knows when you’re going to get another chance to go.”

Paul grunted, and headed towards the door Straub had pointed to. The combination of my intense nerves and the mention of the toilet loosened something in my bladder. I realised I couldn’t remember when I’d last gone … it had been at the start of the flight over. Being someone who makes a rule of never passing up a chance for a piss (you really do never know when you’re gonna get the chance to go when you’re in an urban environment), I held up a finger.

“Am I all right to go as well?”

I saw David scowl, but Straub ignored him.

“You’re not under arrest, Mr Pointer,” she sighed. “You’re helping us, and this isn’t a classroom, contrary to appearances. Go, but be quick.”

I entered the toilet just as the cubicle door shut behind Paul, which was fine by me. I’ve never felt entirely comfortable stood at the urinal with my cock out next to another man. Most people seem to just accept it as the done thing, but I’ve always been inherently aware of the actual reality of the situation. Same as communal showers; just not for me. This is one confusing social situation where for once I feel like
I’m
the one with the problem, though.

We both urinated in silence, and the only sound was liquid hitting porcelain. It felt awkward for me, though, and as ever, I felt an almost panicked compulsion to break the silence. This time I managed to think of something, and it was a genuine question.

“How’ve you been? I have to say … you’re not looking the same.”

I small snort came from the cubicle.

“You noticed, eh?” Paul said, his voice echoing slightly off the tiled walls. “Like I said … I haven’t been sleeping well. Life at home hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses, to be honest.”

“No?”

“Nope. The Mrs doesn’t get much sleep now, ’cos of me at night. I get ... well ... I get more nightmares now, to tell you the truth. Bad ones.” He was saying it in as lighthearted a way as he could manage, but again I knew better, the truth more clear in his words than he realised. “So after a bit it started to, y’know … frazzle her nerves a bit. Lost her patience with me after a while.”