‘How are we going to do this?’ Peter asked anxiously. ‘Even if we can get Anna out of her cell and the Surpluses out of Unit X, how will we get them away from the building?’
‘There’s a back entrance, where the lorries come in. It’ll be manned, but we’ve got men in the basement waiting for my signal,’ Pip said calmly. ‘And as for the Pincent guards, they’ll be concentrating on the front of the building. There’s a press conference in an hour or so, remember. You and Peter focus on getting Anna to the back entrance; I’ll arrange to have my men meet you with transport.’
‘Transport? Here? How? Nothing will get through,’ Dr Edwards said. ‘All the roads will be blocked.’
Pip smiled wryly. ‘Nothing? Oh, I doubt that. I imagine that Anna might enjoy a jaunt on the river. What do you think?’
Peter felt the familiar reassurance and gratitude that the Underground existed, that they were on his side. He’d missed that feeling; felt guilty for having doubted Pip.
‘What about the Surpluses?’ he asked.
‘Leave them to me,’ Pip said firmly. ‘Jude and I will look after them.’
‘Good luck,’ Dr Edwards said. His eyes met Pip’s for a second or two, a bond of trust passing between them, a pact, and then they both turned to Peter.
‘Ready?’ Pip whispered.
‘Ready,’ Peter whispered back, as Dr
Edwards opened the door.
Dr Edwards had never been to the services corridor at the back of the building – the rooms were largely store cupboards, workrooms, areas where men in overalls usually roamed with large hands covered in dirt and grease. He looked over at Peter, who met his eye and nodded tightly, before dropping back. Dr Edwards continued down the corridor, barely daring to look anywhere but straight ahead. And then he stopped. The light was dim but Dr Edwards could see the guard Pip had told them about, sitting outside Room 48, his expression one of intense boredom.
A mild feeling of discomfort made Dr Edwards slow down slightly. He hated confrontation, hated challenges unless they were written down in academic papers and read out at seminars. Perhaps Pip and Peter were wrong, he found himself hoping. Perhaps there was a perfectly reasonable explanation after all.
Taking a deep breath, he approached the door and smiled at the guard. ‘May I?’ he asked, holding his hand towards the lock.
The guard shook his head. ‘Only Mr Pincent and the doctor’s allowed in there,’ he said firmly.
The feeling of discomfort became more intense, and Dr Edwards stepped back. ‘But I am a doctor,’ he said. ‘I’m Dr Edwards.’
‘Only Dr Ferguson’s allowed in,’ the guard said flatly. ‘And he’s been in already.’
‘Dr Ferguson?’ Dr Edwards managed to keep the smile on his face at the mention of a man he despised. A man he’d been under the impression had left Pincent Pharma years ago, never to return. ‘So, he’s back, is he?’
‘Never went away, so far as I know.’
‘Indeed.’ Dr Edwards took out his identi-card. ‘Well, you should also know that I am Head of ReTraining at Pincent Pharma, and that I am here to see the girl on a matter of high importance.’
The guard looked at his card. ‘No one said anything about ReTraining. I’m afraid you can’t go in.’
Dr Edwards caught the guard’s eye and nodded curtly. ‘Then I shall have to call Mr Pincent. Even though he has asked not to be disturbed. Can you tell me your guard number please?’
‘Four-three-one,’ he said. ‘And you call him. I know my orders.’
‘Four-three-one,’ Dr Edwards said, his heart pounding in his chest, every hair on his body standing erect. He took out his phone, pretended to call Richard.
‘Yes?’ said Pip at the other end.
‘Mr Pincent. I wish to see the prisoner. Would you mind sending order to the guard please?’
‘You’re stalling,’ Pip replied. ‘You’ve got the stun gun. Use it.’
‘Thank you,’ Dr Edwards said. ‘I’ll wait here.’
The guard looked up. ‘I’m going to get the order, am I?’ he asked.
‘Any minute now,’ Dr Edwards said. His hands were trembling as he took out the gun. The guard was looking expectantly at his walkie-talkie; he didn’t even have time to look up before the sedative took effect.
‘Peter,’ Dr Edwards hissed, but Peter was already beside him, having watched the whole thing.
‘Get his key.’
Dr Edwards moved towards the guard tentatively, pulling him on to his side. And then something made him retch. There was blood. On his jacket.
‘It’s a stun gun,’ he said, his voice a whisper. ‘Pip said it was a stun gun. Why is he bleeding? Why would he . . .’ He felt the guard’s pulse – nothing.
Immediately Dr Edwards fell to his knees. ‘I killed him! I killed a man.’ His hands were in his hair, his brain racing with shock, with incomprehension.
‘You killed a guard,’ Peter corrected him. ‘And there’s no time for this. Come on, we have to get to Anna.’
Peter pulled the keys from the guard’s belt loop and opened the door then heaved the body through it; Dr Edwards, still in a state of shock, helped him. The room was dark except for emergency lighting which bathed the floor with a warm glow; he could make out the figure of a girl, sitting on a hard chair, her expression anxious; the only sound in the room was the rasping breathing of the baby she was clutching to her. She looked at his white lab coat, the Pincent Pharma photo ID pinned to his chest pocket and shrank back.
‘Anna!’ Peter rushed over to her. ‘What happened?’
‘Peter?’ Anna jumped up, her expression changing from fear to amazement, and hurled her arms round his neck. ‘Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to let you down . . .’
‘You could never let me down,’ Peter said tightly. ‘Never.’ He took her in his arms, and she flinched a little. Then he frowned. ‘You’re hurt,’ he said angrily. ‘What have they done to you?’
‘Nothing,’ Anna said quickly. ‘Just the guards, they . . . It’s nothing, really. But there was a doctor. He said he needed to do some . . . investigations,’ she said, looking at Dr Edwards. ‘But it’s Ben who needs a doctor. I think he’s ill. I think he needs help.’
Dr Edwards moved towards Anna and felt the baby’s head; it was burning up.
‘Why are you here?’ he asked, relieved to have another focus. ‘Who brought you?’
Anna looked up at him, wide-eyed. ‘The police. The Catchers. He said Maria was a Catcher. I thought Maria wanted to save the children and I wanted to help . . . I wanted to . . .’ As she spoke, fat tears began to cascade down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry,’ she choked. ‘I’m sorry . . .’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Peter pulled her into him gently. ‘Don’t ever be sorry, Anna. This is all my fault . . .’
Dr Edwards looked around the room. On a small table in the corner sat a file; quickly he picked it up and crouching low, close to the light, he started to read. Then he swung round.
‘These medical investigations,’ he said, his voice catching as he spoke. ‘Do you know what they were for?’
Anna shook her head and Dr Edwards felt his shoulders tighten with determination, with anger – at Richard for what he’d done, at himself for not knowing about it.
‘Anna,’ Peter whispered, ‘we’re going to get you out of here. We’re going to get you a long way away. Pip’s here. And the Underground. They’re waiting for you. Waiting to help.’
‘Pip? He’s here?’
Peter nodded. ‘There are Surpluses here,’ he whispered tightly. ‘I followed my grandfather. I found Unit X.’
‘Unit X?’
‘They’ve got Surpluses there. They’re pregnant. He’s using them for Longevity+. Embryonic stem cells. They’re . . .’ He looked away, the image of Sheila making him shudder involuntarily.
‘They’re not the only ones,’ Dr Edwards said, his voice strained.
‘Not the only ones what?’
Dr Edwards met Peter’s eye then looked at Anna. ‘I mean they’re not the only ones who are pregnant.’
‘You mean there are more?’ Peter said bitterly.
‘Not the Surpluses,’ Dr Edwards whispered. ‘Anna. Your notes,’ he said, turning to Anna. ‘You’re pregnant, Anna. And according to this file, they want to . . . They . . .’ Dr Edwards couldn’t bring himself to repeat what he’d read, the abbreviations he knew all too well, abbreviations that he’d pushed from his mind for years.
Peter looked at Dr Edwards uncertainly. ‘She’s pregnant? Anna’s pregnant?’
‘But the Surplus Sterilisation programme,’ Anna said, her voice several octaves higher than usual. ‘I can’t be. I . . .’
‘It didn’t exist,’ Peter said, grabbing her and holding her tight. ‘It never got ratified. My grandfather . . . he left that file for me on purpose. He sent me a note, one that looked like it was from the Underground, just so that I’d find it, the programme file. But it was never passed. He just wanted me to sign, that’s all.’
‘So I’m pregnant? I’m really pregnant?’ Anna gasped.
‘Yes, Anna. You’re going to have a baby.’
A huge smile filled Anna’s pale face, brought to life her worried eyes. Peter suddenly pulled away and stared at her in disbelief, in horror.
‘And I was going to . . . I got you to . . .’ Frantically, he reached into his back pocket and took out a large piece of paper, ripping it up into as many pieces as he could, before throwing them on the ground. ‘Your Declaration,’ he said, taking Anna in his arms again and burying his head in her neck. ‘You signed it because of me. And I’ll never forgive myself. But it’s gone now.’ He kissed her. ‘I’ve been so stupid. So completely stupid.’
‘Not stupid,’ Dr Edward said quietly, looking at the guard’s slumped body. ‘Sometimes we trust when we shouldn’t. Your grandfather is a very wicked man, Peter. He needs to be stopped. Whatever it takes.’
‘I’m going to do more than that,’ Peter said fiercely. ‘I’m going to destroy him.’