Richard Pincent watched, hidden behind one-way glass, as the man was forced on to a bench-like contraption, his arms stretched out.
‘You don’t seem to understand,’ Derek Samuels, his Head of Security, was saying smoothly, his face creased in feigned sympathy, as though he cared, as though he didn’t enjoy it. ‘I don’t want to hurt you. It pains me to see you like this. But if you won’t tell me what I want to know, I have no choice. The other guards here, they enjoy causing pain. I won’t be able to stop them.’
The man’s face contorted horribly as his arms were gradually pulled out of their sockets by the contraption he’d been connected to.
‘I’ll tell you nothing,’ he managed to say through clenched teeth. ‘You can’t do this. It’s illegal. The Authorities –’
‘The Authorities don’t care about you,’ Derek said soothingly. ‘You’re beyond the law; Pincent Pharma security guards are sanctioned by the Anti-Terrorism Department to use whatever means necessary to get information out of Underground operatives. I can do what I want with you. And I will, believe me.’
He motioned to another guard, who was controlling the machine, and the prisoner screamed as his arms were pulled further away from his body.
‘I just need to know where I can find the Underground’s headquarters. It’s an easy enough question,’ Derek said, shaking his head sadly. ‘Tell me that and you’ll be free to go.’
The prisoner looked at him with wild eyes. ‘Never,’ he shouted. ‘Never.’
Derek nodded and left the room; moments later the door next to Richard opened and Derek’s face appeared.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.
Richard sighed. Why didn’t people realise that he would not be crossed? Why did they insist on fighting him when it was inevitable that they would lose? Did the Underground really think that they could make even a dent in his company’s success? Did they really think that he would let them score even one point over him? ‘Transfer him to the research lab,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’m sure his organs will tell us more than he will.’
‘Right you are.’ Derek left and reappeared on the other side of the glass. ‘You’re going to research,’ he said coolly.
‘Research?’ the prisoner stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that since you’re not talking, you’re no good to us. But luckily, your body can still be useful. They’re going to have your organs. We need organs to test on, you see; cells to examine. The idea is that once you’ve been cut open, the scientists will get more out of you than I managed to.’
‘Cut open?’ The prisoner’s face whitened visibly. ‘You can’t do that. I have rights. I have . . .’
Richard Pincent couldn’t resist leaving his cubicle, throwing open the door to look at the prisoner in person. ‘You have nothing,’ he said, approaching the wooden bench from behind, causing the prisoner to jump. ‘You are pathetic. You tried, and failed, to destroy Longevity this morning, just as the Underground will always fail. Now I am going to show you what happens to people who cross Richard Pincent. I am going to destroy you.’
‘Who are you? Where’s your humanity?’ the prisoner shouted desperately.
Richard looked at him curiously. ‘My humanity? I’m not the one trying to destroy life; you are, with your raids on Longevity.’
‘I have a wife. Please, don’t do this,’ the man begged.
‘More fool her,’ Derek said thinly, as more guards appeared to help him transport the prisoner, ‘for marrying a loser like you.’
Richard Pincent had seen enough; he walked out of the room, ignoring the screams of the prisoner, and made his way upstairs to his office. Once there, he went over to his window, pulling back the thick, velvet curtains to look outside. His office suite, over two hundred square metres with double-height ceilings that caused people to gasp when they entered it for the first time, was situated on the third floor of Pincent Pharma, overlooking the Thames. He had chosen its position carefully – too high and the view would have missed the river completely, too low and the buildings on the other side of the river would have blocked his light. Here, his view was perfect. Here, he was constantly reminded how important he was, how successful. Here, he was never in any doubt that the years he had spent coercing, charming and tramping on others had truly paid dividends, that his efforts had been worthwhile.
As he sat down at his desk, contemplating this thought, the phone rang and he picked it up. Few people had a direct line to this phone: only those who were useful to Richard, only those who could help him in some way.
‘Richard Pincent.’
‘Richard, it’s Adrian.’
‘Adrian. How are you?’
Adrian Barnet was the Deputy Secretary General, the second in command at the Authorities. A small, squat man, Adrian had been at university with Richard. The two of them had been friends of sorts; they still were, in so far as Richard considered anyone a friend.
‘The attacks on Longevity,’ Adrian said, his voice anxious. ‘Are they set to continue, do you think?’
Adrian couldn’t know about the raid that morning. The Authorities were always several steps behind, which suited Richard perfectly. ‘They were isolated incidents,’ he said carefully. ‘Naturally, we’ve upped our security measures. I think you’ll find there will be no more problems of that nature.’
‘It’s just that there have been questions raised,’ Adrian continued. ‘Concerns that any problem, or perceived problem, with the supply of Longevity knocks confidence. You know that the twenty points lost from the Finance Index last month are being directly attributed to the problems Pincent Pharma ran into.’
‘Not problems,’ Richard said immediately, grimacing as he spoke. ‘Short-term blips which have been resolved. Our vulnerabilities have been eradicated.’
‘The thing is, Richard, people are talking. The name of your grandson kept coming up this morning. People feel uncomfortable with your decision to offer him a job. They’re concerned about his Underground connections, his association with the Surplus girl. He’s dangerous. The worry is that he spent his formative years being brainwashed by her family . . .’
‘That’s the worry, is it?’ Richard said icily. As he spoke, he pressed a button and a screen came to life, revealing Peter in the laboratory with Dr Edwards.
‘It’s just that your grandson is a figurehead for revolutionary activity,’ Adrian continued, not noticing the sarcasm in Richard’s voice. ‘According to the Anti-Terrorism Department, the rebels are calling him the father of the next generation. Him and that Surplus girl.’
‘The father of the next generation?’ Richard almost spat the words. ‘Well, Adrian, if that’s what he is, tell me, where would you have him – free to roam the streets, associating with Underground scum, or here, at Pincent Pharma, where I can track his every move? Do you think I’m stupid, Adrian? Do you think that I am a fool?’
‘No!’ Adrian said quickly. ‘No, of course not. But you can see how people might wonder –’
‘No, Adrian, I cannot see,’ Richard said angrily. ‘But I will tell you one thing. If you think that I am going to let anyone – Peter, your Authorities colleagues, anyone – get in the way of Pincent Pharma, then you have another thing coming. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, of course, I –’
‘Peter is working for me now,’ Richard interrupted. ‘And when he signs the Declaration and embraces Longevity, the Underground movement will crumble.’
‘He’s signing the Declaration?’ Adrian gasped.
‘Of course he will,’ Richard said dismissively. He hadn’t broached the subject with Peter yet, but he was entirely sure he would convince him. Richard could be very persuasive when he chose to be.
‘But he’s a Surplus. Was, I mean . . .’
Richard allowed himself a little smile. ‘Yes, he was. And now he isn’t. Now he can live for ever if he chooses, and he will choose to, Adrian. Have you forgotten the power of Longevity to seduce?’ he asked softly. ‘Have you forgotten what it is to have temptation put in front of you, offered up on a platter? Peter won’t be able to resist.’
There was a pause. ‘So . . . what’s he doing? Peter, I mean. Where have you got him working, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘I do mind,’ Richard replied levelly, ‘but since you ask, I have him working with Dr Edwards. He’s going to learn all about Longevity. All about its powers.’
‘Dr Edwards. Isn’t he the one who was moved off production?’
‘He wasn’t able to cope with modernisation,’ Richard said smoothly. ‘But he’s still useful. Still the best teacher at Pincent Pharma. He’s been heading up ReTraining for years now; he loves Longevity more than anyone in the world. If anyone can convince Peter to sign the Declaration, it’s Dr Edwards. He sees the beauty of it. It’s a religion to him.’
‘You make him sound like your Mephistopheles.’
‘Adrian, what I am offering Peter is eternal life, not a pact with the devil.’
‘And you really think Peter will be swayed? It sounds risky to me.’
‘Adrian, you are a civil servant,’ Richard said coolly. ‘Everything sounds risky to you. Trust me, Peter won’t be able to resist the lure of eternal life. People have sold their souls for less.’
‘You still believe in souls?’ Adrian asked with a nervous laugh.
‘What’s not to believe? After all, our job here is to preserve souls, Adrian. Everyone’s souls are now reliant on Pincent Pharma for their very existence.’
Adrian hesitated, apparently unsure whether or not Richard was joking. ‘Don’t let anyone else from the Authorities hear you say that,’ he said nervously. ‘I’m sure they think souls are their remit.’
‘The Authorities think that everything is their remit,’ Richard said, his tone suddenly icy. ‘They’re wrong.’