“Jesus,” Harper had signed out countless couriers over the years, not knowing or caring what they had in the back of the van.
“Cleaver really,” Logan said after a moment. “Terrifying at first, takes a bit of getting used to I can tell you. But cleaver never the less.” He nodded grimly to himself, then remembered something. “Oh the drivers were always plain clothes army or some such. Those fellows were armed for sure.” As if that made any difference.
“That’s beyond terrifying,” Harper said weakly.
The old man nodded ruefully in agreement, and then focused his attention back to the vial. He turned it over in his hand and regarded it. There was something about the look in Logan’s eye that Harper found deeply disturbing. If he had to describe it, it was love. When Logan spoke his voice swelled with pride. “Ten years we worked on this. Ten years of heartache and failure. God, I’ve lost count of the number of times we had to scrap everything and start from scratch again. Until finally we cracked it, and get this, it was by accident!” His eyes flared as he remembered.
“We could have gone on forever, chasing our tails, always one step away from success, or just as close to more abject failure. All it took was a simple error when I was writing up my notes. I was writing down the formula we had just tried, and failed. Too much coffee and too little sleep, I guess. I transposed two of the figures and there it was, staring me right in the face.” Logan finally tore his eyes away from the vial to Harper. “Fate had been looking over my shoulder that day, guiding my hand. I was going to call it a day, write everything up in the morning when I was fresh, but for some reason I didn’t.”
Logan gestured with the vial towards Harper making him flinch, the Doctor was a little too comfortable handing a global killer for Harper’s liking.
“Just like when I went back for you at the lab,” Logan continued. “It’s been praying on my mind, but I guess some questions are best left unanswered, I suppose.” He shook his head dismissively. “Anyway, so there I was, after everyone had gone home, half asleep, writing up my notes. Perhaps it was some kind of divine intervention, if you believe in that sought if thing. But whatever it was, Harper, it was something strong, almost physical.” He shook his head again and frowned. “I don’t know, maybe God had grown tired of waiting for us to finally come up with the instrument of our own destruction. He gave us brains, didn’t he?” He tapped the vial against his temple. “Gave us the means to bring about our own ends? Maybe all we needed was a little nudge in the right direction.”
It all began to make a lunatic kind of sense to Harper as he listened. At first he that just thought the old Man had lost all reason, killing poor Frank, kidnapping him, now this virus he was so casually handling. But there was something else to all this madness.
“So, let me get this straight,” Harper said, trying to think clearly. “First you created this thing. Then you fucking steal it?”
“That’s right.”
“So what’s next? Are you gonna sell it? What’s the problem, they don’t pay you enough at the lab?”
“There it is again,” Logan said. “That fighting spirit. And no, Harper, I’m not going to sell it. I’m going to give it away.” He said it so matter of fact, as if it were the most normal thing in the world and Harper was a fool to even ask.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Harper asked wearily. “You went through all this and you’re just going to give it away? To who for Christ sake?”
“To someone who wants to do some good with it,” the old Man replied. He narrowed his eyes at the way Harper was looking at the vial, suddenly suspicious. Logan reached into the back of his trousers and pulled out the pistol he had used to shoot Harper and Frank back at the lab. Harper tensed seeing the weapon and sat back a little. Logan seemed satisfied with this and put the pistol on the table next to him.
“It’s funny, you don’t look like the humanitarian type to me,” Harper gestured to the pistol, and briefly thought of making a lunge across the table for it, but thought better of it remembering the trouble he had with the simple task of picking up the bottle of water.
“I’m sure I won’t need it,” Logan said and lightly tapped the pistol. “But you are full of surprises.” Logan then put the vial back in the case and snapped the latch shut, much to Harper’s relief. “Anyway, how’s the right side of your head?” He asked.
“Missing.”
This made the old Man laugh out loud.
“So, you’re just going to give that thing away?” Harper asked.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Logan replied, then he gave a shrug. “Well, I suppose from your perspective it is.” Logan leant forwards, his forehead creasing as he frowned. “But even after everything that’s happened. Can’t some good come out of all this?” He paused thinking, then. “Look, the sad truth is, I was so wrapped up in creating this thing, that somewhere along the way I lost sight of what we were actually doing. He all did.”
The forlorn look on Logan’s face threw Harper somewhat. Despite everything he actually sounded genuine, even a little lost. Perhaps circumstances had in fact spiralled out of his control and he just wanted to undo some of the hurt he had caused. Of course that did still beg one question; “So, where does kidnapping me fit into this little tale of redemption?”
Logan’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head slightly. “That remains to be seen,” he said after a moment’s thought. “The whole thing should have gone off so smoothly, like I said before, you and I should never even have met, but for fate’s folly bringing us together.” Logan looked off into space, he gave a heartfelt sigh. “I was supposed to swap the real virus for a dummy vial. Then give the real one to these... Well they’re just kids really. They call themselves Eco-terrorists, but they’re harmless enough. Their leader, a chap named Freddie, he had some idea about what was really going on at the lab. He was the one who finally convinced me to blow the whistle on it all. They are going to go to the press, but they needed cast iron proof.” He smiled humourlessly to himself. “Guess they have got it now.”
“And they know what happened at the lab?” Harper asked and glanced furtively at the gun whilst Logan was distracted. He slowly reached for the half empty water bottle on the table as a test of his depth perception, and missed first time. He bit his lip in frustration, harder than he thought because he could taste fresh blood, but thanks to the pain-killer felt nothing. He almost spilt the water down his front as he took a sip, as his hand was shaking so hard.
“God no,” Logan said and finally drew his attention back to Harper, he watched with a look of concern as Harper took his faltering drink. “I told Freddie it all went like clockwork,” he confessed. “And why wouldn’t he believe me? He takes everything I say as gospel, as long as it fits in with his little moral crusade. But you should have heard him when I told him that I’d actually taken the virus. I wish I had been able to tell him in person, I’m sure his face was a picture.” He smiled at this and Harper caught a glint of mischief in the Doctor’s eye. “Freddie wants his little revolution? I say let him have it, if he keeps his nerve.”
“You are just going to hand that think over to a bunch of terrorists?”
“Oh, they are hardly that, Harper. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry? Jesus! How do you know they won’t just let it out?” Harper could hear the fear in his own voice. The old guy couldn’t be that crazy. Could he?
“Because they are the good guys, Harper. They want to topple the Government, not kill anyone.” Logan patted the box. “They’ll have their moment in the sun, then they’ll give it back. So it can be destroyed.”
“And you’re okay with that? After all your work?”
Logan looked solemnly at the box. “Like I said, I’d lost sight of what we had made.”
“So what do I do while all this is going on?” Harper wanted to know. “Sit here and bleed?”
At this Logan squinted at Harper’s head. “Speaking of which, let’s have a look at that head of yours.” He leaned forwards across the table, but Harper batted his hand away.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” he shouted and without thinking he made a move for the pistol with his other hand, but he must have been woefully slow because Logan had the gun in his hand before he got anywhere near it.
“Suit yourself,” Logan said casually and got to his feet tucking the pistol into his waistband as he did so. “Look Harper, don’t exert yourself, and don’t try anything foolish like trying to escape,” he warned and tapped the right side of his head for emphasis.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harper said sarcastically.
“Good Man,” Logan replied and scooped up the box, he was half way to the door when he stopped and turned back to Harper. “And don’t forget to shout up if the pain comes back.” He smiled and was gone. Harper heard the door lock behind him.
“Shit,” he hissed and looked around the room once more. That was the only way in or out.
REVOLUTION BY COMMITTE
When they told him, the usually unflappable Paul Anderson had gone paler than Libby thought a living human could possibly go. And after that the excuses had started straight away. Libby had known they would, just like with Freddie, Paul had always talked a good revolution, but now that he was firmly ensconced in the world of low level politics, and actually had the beginnings of a reputation to uphold, he was less and less inclined to stick his neck out. Especially as far as this would require.
If Doctor Logan was true to his word then what they were planning would turn the political world on its head. And if only Paul could see that far ahead, he would be well placed to usher in a new era. If only he had the courage to align himself with what they were going to do. But in her excitement Libby had forgotten the one overwhelming rule when it came to politics, large scale or small. The Status Quo ruled. You could rock the boat a little to get yourself noticed if you wanted to shoulder your way into the trough all politicians fed at. Just not enough to capsize it.
It was all about rhetoric, not revolution. She had seen Paul become grey and greyer with each passing month since he had decided to run for the council. He had boasted he could be an MP within three or four years, then he could really make a difference. Only now Libby knew the only real difference he was interesting in was to the size of his bank balance (that and his ego, which unlike his bank balance had never been small.)
Here they were handing him all the political platform he would ever need, sending his public profile into the stratosphere. And all he had given them in response was a plethora of if’s and buts.
Libby hoisted herself up and sat on the disused bar and took a look around the large, long disused private function room of the Black Bull pub that had served as Paul’s office for years now and thought about how often they had met here over the years, a small but determined band huddled in the room, bitter and angry as only the young can be and debated and plotted their own never quite realized mini rebellions.
She felt a pang of regret at those lost years.
The walls were still covered in old faded protest posters and banners from demonstrations and marches half of which she could hardly remember now. Next to dozens of newspaper clippings they had so proudly collected that chronicled their various exploits of minor eco-terrorism and sometimes downright vandalism, all in a good cause, of course. There was the original anti council tax leaflets pinned to a crowded notice board.
She spotted an anti- British National Party banner declaring that Nazi skinheads should fuck off back to nineteen thirties Berlin where they belonged. Libby absently touched her lower lip, which still had a faint scar from where one of the BNP bully boys had given her a back hander during a scuffle. She smiled at the memory as she remembered the look on his face when she had kneed him hard in the bollocks for it.
Simpler times, ones she had clung to for so long. And times she could see Freddie and Paul still trying desperately to cling to now. Simpler, safer, and ultimately pointless.
Paul was pacing the floor tugging at his salt and pepper hair and coming up with excuse after excuse, while Freddie sat on the edge of a cluttered desk looking just as agitated and nodding in agreement most of the time.
Libby had spent the best part of the night convincing him they had to go through with his, only to have Paul, who she had stupidly hope would be an ally, sow the seeds of doubt back into Freddie’s fear addled brain. Ironically, it was Dennis who looked the coolest out of the four of them. He was sitting in Paul’s large leather swivel chair spinning from side to side watching the debate with something like quite contempt on his young face.
“Come on, for fucks sake,” Dennis said unable to hold his tongue any longer. “What is there even to discuss?”
“Everything!” Paul said contemptuously. “There are a million and one things that can go wrong here. Not the least of which is the fact that this Logan character could be full of shit.”
He may as well have told Dennis to shut up and let the grownups talk it appeared to Libby.
“Freddie thinks he’s on the level,” Dennis said.
This made Freddie flinch. “I’m pretty sure he is,” he said without conviction. Libby felt a knot of contempt twist in her stomach, but kept her silence. Let them debate themselves out if they wanted. As she had sat listening to all this for what seemed like hours now, she had come to the conclusion that if push came to shove, she would go on her own to meet Logan and find out first hand if he was on the level. And the more she heard from Paul and Freddie, the more she warmed to the idea.
She exhaled, dead tired of it all and took a look at her watch, she started in shock, it was nearly one thirty in the morning, no wonder they all looked so fatigued. The best thing for everyone would be to go home, sleep on it and meet up again later. But she knew that would be fatal, and all the thinking time both Paul and Freddie would need to back right out. Besides, Paul had his precious rally tonight and he seemed more intent than ever to make sure it meant absolutely nothing.
“Christ!” Dennis exclaimed making everyone jump. “Paul, you are getting this handed to you on a platter, proof positive!”
“This rally is massively important,” Paul said and pointed a warning finger at Dennis.
Huh, to you, Libby thought.
“I’ve worked for too hard for too long on putting this together, and I won’t have anything fucking that up,” Paul told him. “Think about this from my point of view. I’m gonna look pretty stupid if I let Freddie have a slot and he turns up with nothing but fresh air, aren’t I?”
“Look at Freddie, and tell me if you think he thinks this Doc’ is on the level?” Dennis asked and for the first time in a long, long while Libby found herself proud of her little Brother. “Look at him, he’s fucking terrified!”
It was true, Freddie still looked deathly afraid and was clearly regretting the wine he had gulped down earlier. He gave off the air of a condemned man with a killer hangover awaiting the call to the gallows.
Freddie perched up a little at what Dennis said. “You know I’m right here?” He said, but his voice was so weak with fatigue, he couldn’t muster much outrage.
“Well you are!” Dennis said.
“And can you blame me?” Freddie replied with a bit more bite in his voice. He waited for Dennis to reply but got nothing more than a shrug from him.
Paul put a Brotherly hand on Freddie’s shoulder. “And it’s understandable, Fred,” he said with a tone of practised concern.
“I need a drink,” Dennis said getting to his feet. “Anyone else?” Freddie gave him a queasy look and shook his head no.
“No thanks,” Paul said. “But remember, you pay for whatever you take,” he reminded Dennis as he set off to go through into the deserted bar next door. “The pumps won’t be on, so you’ll have to stick to something bottled, they keep the fridges on so they’ll still be nice and cool. Just leave the money on the bar, and any empties, Bill will pick it up in the morning when he gets in.”
“Of course,” Dennis said, he stopped next to where Libby was sitting. “You want anything Sis?”
“Orange juice would be nice,” she said and dug into her jacket pocket for her purse.
“Any Vodka in that?” He asked with a glint in his eye.
“God no,” she said and took out a fiver. “My treat,” she told him.
“Thanks Sis!” And with this he disappeared through the door.
“Fred?” She said and he turned to give her a mournful look. “Why don’t you get something, a red bull or something like that? You look like you need a pick me up.”
“Good idea,” he agreed. “Don’t suppose anyone’s got any speed?” He gave Libby and Paul a hopeful look but got nothing but head shakes and raised eyebrows. He nodded ruefully to himself and followed Dennis out into the other bar.
“We’ll be through in a minute,” she shouted through.
“Can he be trusted?” Paul asked Libby after they had gone. The question hung heavy in the room.
“Freddie or Logan?” She replied.
Paul went over to one of the large notice boards by his desk and ran his eyes over the past glories pinned there. Libby noticed that Dennis had pinned up the front page of the paper he had shown her earlier with its ‘Terror on the fairways’ headline. “Both,” Paul said after a long pause without turning around.
“I didn’t think you would need this amount of convincing,” Libby said. She didn’t even try to hide the disappointment in her voice. She thought she saw his shoulders sag ever so slightly, it was quite the revelation. He still cares what I think of him. And with that thought Libby felt a surge of something that quickened her pulse, it felt like power.
“We know Logan Works at Ventrex,” she continued after a moment. “That’s a matter of public record. And that he’s high up on the food chain there.”
“And Freddie?” He spoke to the wall.
“Freddie trusts Logan,” she stated. “And I trust Freddie.”
He turned to face her at this. “Really?” The condescension was thick in his voice.
She held his gaze, her eyes steel, despite his bullshit bravado she knew she was in control here, and it was a feeling she liked. You care about what I think of you, you never did get over me, did you? But believe me I don’t care who you’re with, how well you think you are doing in the world. You could be Prime Minister for all I care and it wouldn’t mean a thing.
Libby was amazed at her own self-control that she didn’t actually shout that thought right in his face. Maybe she would make a good politician herself after all. Paul’s eyes flickered to the floor for a moment as if he just read her mind.
It was weird, she wasn’t used to being this manipulative and despite herself she felt sorry for Paul, but she quickly realised that was an emotion she could ill afford. She had to keep her eye on the prize as they say. She needed Paul, and she realized as she watched him turn back to the notice board, that he needed her to need him, that was something he was used to in his perfect new life as an up and coming politician. She couldn’t emasculate him too much, no matter how much she really, really wanted to.
“Look, Paul,” she said in a softer tone. “I’m going to go with Freddie to meet Logan later.” She hopped down off the bar and moved over to where he was standing with his back to her. “Paul?” She coaxed and he turned to face her. “Just keep a slot open,” she said. “That’s all I ask. And if this all turned out to be bullshit, no harm done. I’ll let you know straight away. It’s not like you’ll have to announce anything before hand, is it?”
He moved forwards a step and for a moment Libby thought he was going to embrace her, thankfully he pulled up short. “And if it is all bullshit?” He asked hopefully.
Tell him what he wants to hear.
“If it is all bullshit,” she gave him the best smile she could muster. “I can promise you, Freddie will be history.” His eyes flared ever so slightly at this. “But,” she cautioned. “If this is on the level and we actually get the virus. You have to support us, all the way.”
“I will,” Paul assured her.
“Thank you,” she touched him lightly on the arm and he tensed like he had just had a jolt of electricity. “You’ll be part of history,” she told him. “We all will.” Out of nowhere, she stepped forwards and gave him a hug.
“This is big stuff, Lib,” Paul whispered in her ear.
“I know it,” she held him at arm’s length again, it was strange but she was glad she had hugged him all the same, it felt like the first natural thing she had done so far. It made her feel like she wasn’t just some manipulative Queen bitch after all.