First 3 Chapters – Try Before You Buy

Chapter One: Revelations

Saturday 3^rd July, 1999. 3.55pm.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon in a supermarket car park in Oxfordshire. Fifty-eight-year-old Dr Robert Leidenstraum, a German scientist living in the UK, gently pushed a heavy trolley. After numerous warnings from his GP about his blood pressure and cholesterol, he looked sheepishly at the wine and cheese filled carrier bags.

As he approached his prized black Audi A4 saloon, which he had got a good deal on just six weeks earlier, he noticed what looked like a sizeable scratch on the driver’s side door which made his blood boil. As he bent over to get a closer look, pain permeated his left arm. He clutched his chest and fell to the ground, the trolley rolled back and rested almost lovingly on his head.

Dr Leidenstraum awoke in hospital and gazed at the ceiling of Ward Seven, wondering why he was not watching Wimbledon in his conservatory with Pimm’s and strawberries. Then he remembered the car park. Who had scratched his beloved car? What had happened to his gorgonzola and merlot? Where was the fillet steak that he had planned to cook for dinner that evening? His pain and annoyance were exacerbated by the screaming of another patient, four beds along. The noise pierced his inner ear drum and penetrated his very soul. It was then that he heard a familiar and comforting voice break through the wretched wailing.

“Dad, thank goodness you’re alive. I got here as soon as I could.” It was Dr Leidenstraum’s daughter Sarah, a twenty-year-old university student who hoped to become a doctor like her father, albeit by pursuing a career in medicine; his eldest child and undoubtedly his favourite. Whilst he loved Sarah’s seventeen-year-old brother, William, he lacked his sister’s intelligence, and though never short of effort, in Dr Leidenstraum’s eyes he was never going to match her achievements, or be the son he had hoped for.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get time to pick up some grapes. I was in such a panic and rush.”

“Don’t worry, I should be eating strawberries right now. Grapes would only force me to accept my current predicament. Perhaps I could put them in my ears to shut him up,” he said tilting his head in the direction of the screaming man.

Sarah chuckled. It was a fond reminder of how her father’s dry sense of humour had illuminated her childhood, when gloom could easily have prevailed following the death of her mother in a car accident. Sarah was four years old. Sarah’s reminiscence was interrupted by her father’s gasps for breath. Sarah shouted for help. Her father pulled her near and said meekly, “The lock-up. The keys are in my study. I’m sorry I never told you.”

Nurses rushed to tend to Dr Leidenstraum, but all efforts were in vain. He was dead. Sarah reeled in shock. She was numb, overwhelmed with grief, and confused. What did her father’s last words mean?

Sarah returned to the family home in a daze. She parked her beloved red Nissan Micra on the pebble driveway in front of the bay window of the semi-detached house. She climbed out of ‘Joanna,’ the name she had affectionately given her car in honour of her favourite actress, Joanna Lumley. The absence of her father’s black Audi from in front of the recently painted white garage door was an instant reminder of her unfathomable loss.

Sarah opened the white UPVC front door, wiped her feet on the mat, and took her shoes off. Her father had told her a thousand times to take her shoes off. How she longed to hear him shout at her to take her shoes off one more time. Things would never be the same again.

Sarah called her brother’s mobile, but he didn’t answer. She contemplated her father’s last words, and ventured into his study in search of answers. Family photos adorned the room, producing a flood of tears tinged with both sadness and joy as she pored over many cherished memories. Sarah’s recollections paused as her gaze was drawn to a set of keys hanging on the wall.

Were those the keys? Sarah wondered. She snatched hold of them, three silver keys, each emblazoned with a different word: ‘safe,’ ‘lock-up,’ ‘lock-up internal.’ In the corner of the room, she was drawn to a small, wall-mounted safe and contemplated trying the safe key. Feelings of unease passed over her. This was her father’s room; he had strictly forbidden her or Will from going in there. She recalled the rage he flew into when he had caught her in there during a game of hide and seek with Will. She had never dared set foot in there since. Being in there now felt like an invasion of his privacy, even following his death. If he had to wait for his final moments to mention these keys to her, what would she find? Then the phone interrupted her racing thoughts. It was her brother.

“Will, I need you to come home, ok?”

“What? Why? I’m in London.”

“I can’t say on the phone, but I need you to come home as soon as you can, alright?”

Concerned by his sister’s tone, Will agreed to return on the next available train.

As the phone call concluded, Sarah took a sharp intake of breath and placed the key into the lock. The door opened. Her trepidation was quickly met with a wave of disappointment. A few journals, a floppy disk, and some paperwork. She skimmed through the papers and happened upon documentation about the purchase of a warehouse, along with a photograph of it. She noticed the date was nineteen eighty-three, a few months after her mother’s death.

Intrigued by this and, with her father’s words ringing in her ears, Sarah opened the first journal. It felt wrong, but surely this is what he would have wanted, she thought to herself, as if seeking to justify her actions.

The journal commenced on the eighth of November nineteen eighty-three, the day the warehouse was purchased and highlighted plans to carry out biological experiments as part of an academic research project. Her father’s notes outlined how his wife’s death had devastated him. The emptiness and despair he felt had motivated him to use his skills to create and preserve life.

Skipping to the final journal, Sarah could see it had been written up until the previous day, the second of July, nineteen ninety-nine. The final notes were; ‘the subjects continue to progress well. The new millennium can’t come quickly enough.’

Sarah was studious in nature, but couldn’t motivate herself to begin trawling through her father’s extensive diaries, particularly given the fact she was struggling to hold back more tears. Instead, she decided a visit to the warehouse would kill the proverbial two birds with one stone, as it would serve as a welcome distraction whilst satisfying her curiosity as to what her father had been doing there.

It was a warm and bright evening after a beautiful sunny day. The opposite of how Sarah felt. Sarah drove ‘Joanna,’ and listened to FM radio. The pub beer gardens bustled with sun scorched revellers who had lapped up the rare glorious British sunshine. It would probably be raining next weekend. Britney Spears Baby One More Time was played. How many times had she heard that song in the last few months? Sarah preferred Christina Aguilera to Britney, but she had often found it impossible to resist the temptation to warble to Britney. No Scrubs by TLC followed. Sarah loved that song. If her friends were in the car with her, they would sing loudly with the song on full blast.

As her twenty-minute drive concluded, she found herself immersed in an industrial estate which contained several warehouse units. The DJ played Baz Luhrmann’s Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen). The lyrics were just too painful. Sarah switched the radio off. All the businesses on the estate were closed so Sarah felt confident her visit would go unnoticed, and more importantly unchallenged.

Sarah recognised the warehouse from the photograph in her father’s study. It was the last warehouse along on the right-hand side of the estate. She saw that the windows to the side of the building were tinted. As she approached the front door, she saw a small sign inscribed with 8B. The emptiness of the industrial estate made her feel distinctly uneasy, but she plucked up the courage to climb out of her car. She tentatively placed the ‘lock-up’ key into the lock, and gradually opened the front door. Sarah was underwhelmed by the sight of an empty wooden table and chair surrounded by brick walls from the floor to the ceiling. However, she noticed there was a steel door behind the table and chair.

Sarah placed the ‘lock-up internal’ key into the lock of the steel door. She turned the key and pulled the handle down. Hesitantly, Sarah walked into a completely darkened room. As she switched on the lights, she gasped in shock at what she saw before her: twelve glass cubicles, six to her left and six to the right. Each one contained what appeared to be a person facing in her direction. Sarah froze in fear, her mouth opened wide as her eyes popped metaphorically out of her head. She saw what appeared to be six males and six females of differing ethnicities, all around her age.

Sarah was stunned. “What is this? What the hell has dad been doing?” she whispered to herself as she walked tentatively along the centre of the room and gazed at each specimen like a tourist in a museum. Sarah’s wonderment was disturbed by a tap on the glass of the cubicle that was fourth along on her left. She screamed and fell to the ground. Tentatively, she looked up anxiously, gripped by paralysing fear. The figure inside looked human, but was attached to a tube from the back; they all were. The figure waved at her and smiled. Sarah was aghast and screamed again, a few decibels louder than the first time.

Sarah scrambled to her feet, and turned to run back towards the door. As she did so, she heard a voice say, “Sarah,” which stopped her dead in her tracks. She glanced cautiously over her right shoulder, and looked directly at the figure.

“Hello Sarah,” the figure said.

It felt like time had descended into slow motion, as Sarah fell to her knees unable to digest what had happened. Sarah crawled furiously towards the door like an energetic baby, climbed through the gap, jumped to her feet, and slammed the steel door shut, like an angry gaoler. She sat with her back up against the door and caught her breath.

Sarah’s attention was diverted by the sound of her phone ringing. It was her brother. Shaking uncontrollably, she answered the phone.

“Sarah, my train gets in at half nine. Can you pick me up?”

“Y-Y-Yee-Yes,” Sarah stuttered.

“What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I’ll see you soon Will. I’ll see you soon. I’ve got to go.” She locked up the premises, got into her car and drove to the train station.

Sarah was elegant, short, and slim with shoulder length, mousy brown hair, piercing blue eyes and a prominent, upturned nose. She cut a lonely and somewhat pitiful figure as she sat on the square brick wall surrounding the giant green clock on the concourse and waited anxiously for her brother to arrive. Sarah watched the countless people scurrying through the station. She struggled to process the many emotions that whirled around her mind like a washing machine on full spin. How was she going to explain the last few hours to her brother?

Will emerged from the distance, his unmistakable gait on display. His toes scraped along the ground as he walked purposefully yet awkwardly to meet his sister. Will was tall and slim with long unkempt brown hair and sullen brown eyes. His appearance was in stark contrast to that of his sibling. As Will approached, the look in Sarah’s eyes instinctively told him what the news was.

“It’s dad, isn’t it? He’s…”

Sarah nodded.

“…been nicked because of the bodies in the warehouse?”

Sarah reeled in shock. Her brother knew about the warehouse?

“No, dad’s dead. He’s dead. I’m sorry Will. I’m sorry. The warehouse. How did you…?”

“Dead? Dead? He can’t be? No, he can’t be?”

Sarah hugged her brother and they shared a tender moment in grief that was in contrast to their usual sibling rivalry.

Having let the moment pass and allowed for the news to begin to sink in, Sarah probed her brother. “What were you saying about a warehouse?”

“Nothing.”

“I know too.”

“How? And how did dad die?”

“I was there at the hospital. He’d had a heart attack. He told me about the warehouse just before he died.”

“How much did he tell you?”

“Not a lot, but…”

“But what?”

“I’ve been there. Just before I came here to meet you.”

“What. Why?”

“Curiosity. I was in shock. I am in shock. I didn’t know what I was going to find. I don’t know what I found.”

Realising his sister was battling with her emotions and that he hadn’t yet processed his own, Will displayed an emotional maturity beyond his years and calmly suggested they carry on the conversation at home.

Will poured a large measure of his father’s best whisky into a fine crystal spirit glass, a glass he’d never been allowed to drink from. He took a tentative sip and looked up to the sky as if to acknowledge his father would be watching him angrily.

“Even in the circumstances, dad wouldn’t approve of your drinking, especially his best whisky, and in one of his special glasses,” Sarah said.

Will ignored his sister and took a substantial swig of the fine single malt. “This is so smooth it soothes rather than burns the back of your throat, unlike that cheap stuff they sell in the Old Crown at two quid a double.” Will then reluctantly updated his sister on what he knew about the warehouse.

“A few months ago, I was with my mate Tariq when he went to get his Fiesta fixed at a garage on an industrial estate. We had a bit of spare time and went to grab a coffee. I saw dad’s car pull into the estate and park up by this warehouse which I thought was odd. I made an excuse to Tariq that I needed to make an urgent call and snuck down to the unit. Dad hadn’t locked the door so I entered and found him in that room with all those people in glass containers. Obviously, he was shocked and wasn’t best pleased to see me. He became angry and paranoid; he accused me of following him. I didn’t know how to react, but I shifted it back towards him and what he was doing in this warehouse. I demanded answers and couldn’t believe what I heard. He swore me to secrecy. I’m sorry you’ve found out about it like this.” His recollection was disrupted by an unexpected knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Sarah said.

It was Alice, a well-meaning but annoying neighbour. Alice was forty-eight years old, short, and slightly overweight, with shoulder length, dark hair tinted with patches of grey and emerald green eyes. Alice, who had long displayed amorous intentions towards Dr Leidenstraum, stood in an ill-fitting low-cut black and white striped knee length dress, and jet-black heels.

“You look nice Alice. Are you going out for the evening?” Sarah said whilst thinking Alice resembled a chubby Zebra.

“Thank you, Sarah. It’s new. I’m loving the fit. It’s just on the right side of cosy, so I will have to watch my calorie intake. Anyway, is your father in?”

“No, he isn’t. You’d better come inside.”

“Hello Will. How are you?”

“Hi Alice.”

Sarah and Will looked at Alice, both struggled to contemplate what to say to her.

“There’s no easy way of saying this, Alice. Dad died this afternoon,” Sarah said, swallowing hard as she conveyed the devastating news.

Alice was momentarily rendered speechless and sat down on a chair. “I love him, loved him. Dare I say it, more than I love my Dave.”

“I’m not sure this is the time,” Will said.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m intruding. I’ll go. I’ll come and see you in the morning.”

After Alice left, Will cut his sister a puzzled look. “It’s a bit late for her to be coming around, isn’t it? Where were we before we were interrupted?”

“The warehouse.”

“Dad told me he’d bought the warehouse after mum died. To carry out experiments related to his work.”

Sarah listened intently, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing.

“He was looking to a future where advancements in technology would see humans gradually replaced, so he was creating half human, half machine hybrids in an attempt to try and help preserve the species, as it were.”

Will hesitated and then gave Sarah the earth-shattering news that their father had commenced his experiments by extracting DNA from babies in his work touring hospitals.

“No, no, he couldn’t. How could he? Are you saying the people or whatever they are in those cubicles share DNA with teenagers out there in society; they are their robotic twins? And you’ve kept his secret. You haven’t tried to stop him?”

“Actually, I’ve been helping him. As I’m studying IT at college, he asked me to conduct research for him into software development. He thought it would help me to improve my academic results. You know I’ve always been a bit of a techie geek, so it’s like I’m part of building real Transformers or something.”

“Can you hear yourself? How unethical all this is. Well, it’s stopping now. Do you hear me?”

“Dad said you’d react like this. It’s why he never told you. He wanted to. He wanted you involved. That journal he’s written about the work he’s done was for you, not me. In the event of his passing away or getting locked up, I think he thought you’d be able to follow his work because he knew I wouldn’t be able to.”

“I don’t want to follow his work. This is insane. You can’t be serious. I’m not doing it.” Sarah stormed angrily upstairs.

“We can’t just leave them there, they’ll die. They must be tended to every few days. There’s a process. I can’t do it. I will need your help,” Will shouted up the stairs after his sister, but she didn’t respond. All he heard was the sound of her bedroom door slamming firmly shut.

The next morning, the atmosphere was tense as Sarah walked into the kitchen and was confronted by Will demanding the keys to the warehouse. He was evidently determined to take control of the situation and wear his sister down.

“I think we should go there together this morning. We can’t start making any funeral arrangements until tomorrow anyway. We need to do this.”

“Ok. Ok. We will go there together and we need to stick together. Not that I forgive you or dad for what you’ve done. Don’t think that for a second. I’m thoroughly ashamed of the pair of you. Anyway, what is this process you were shouting about last night? To keep them alive I mean? What will we have to do?”

Sarah’s reluctant willingness to get involved brought a wry smile to Will’s face.

“Each of them is fed and watered through a tubing system and powered by a rechargeable battery pack. I don’t know much about how it’s done, but I know dad undertook these procedures every seven days without fail. He told me they’d be dead and unable to be saved if this wasn’t done at least once every nine days. I guess it explains why growing up we never went on holiday for more than a week at a time.”

Sarah forced a smile at her brother’s humorous remark.

“I know you really don’t want to, sis, but I think if we, if you take his journal, you will be able to work through it.”

“His final diary entry was Friday so I guess that was the last time he fed them or charged them or whatever. We won’t need to do that today, but I agree we should still go. I will put the journals and paperwork from the safe in a bag and take it with us.”

Whilst travelling in ‘Joanna’ to the warehouse, No Scrubs came on the radio. Sarah turned up the volume dial much to Will’s annoyance.

“I hate this song,” Will said.

“It’s better than that Slipknot rubbish I’ve heard coming from your bedroom. It’s just not music, Will.”

“That’s what dad said. He kept telling me I should listen to the Beatles.”

“Well, it would be an improvement.”

“Trust you to side with him as always.”

“Shush, I love this rap part of the song,” Sarah said as she tried to mimic Lisa “left eye” Lopes, much to Will’s amusement.

As TLC faded back to the DJ in the studio, Sarah turned the volume down and attempted to establish what had driven her brother to get involved in their father’s work.

“I’m a bit surprised you wanted to help dad with this?”

“I’ve always been a disappointment to him. You are… were, his favourite. He’d always made that abundantly clear. This gave me an opportunity to work with him and prove my worth. I don’t necessarily agree with it, but he’s put a lot of work into this project and I think we should see it through.”

They arrived at the site and parked up. “Hang on. When I was here yesterday one of them said my name. How is that possible?”

This resulted in an awkward silence as Will hesitated to respond. “It’s part of the programming. They’ve seen photos etc.”

“That’s creepy. I don’t like it.”

“I thought you’d be flattered. I thought inanimate robots were your type, judging by that guy Simon you were seeing. Dad needn’t have bothered with all this. He should have just experimented on him.”

“Thanks a lot, Will. I take it the closest you’ve managed to get to an intimate relationship is still with your right hand?”

“I’ve got loads of interest. I’m having to turn them away. And I’m left-handed, remember.”

“So, you’ve worked on these things?” Sarah said, anxious to move the conversation away from their squabbling and back to the important task at hand.

“No. Dad wouldn’t trust me to work on them, but I’ve watched him working on them.”

They got out of the vehicle and entered the building. Will tried to reassure his sister that all would be ok. Sarah and Will walked along inspecting each pod, with the same pace and attention as Her Majesty the Queen meeting entertainers after the Royal Variety performance.

The figure that had greeted Sarah the day previously said: “Hello Sarah. You came back.”

“He..Hel…lo Hello,” Sarah said.

As they reached the last two cubicles, Sarah noticed a black curtain covering a small square area behind a locker, like what you’d find in a leisure centre changing room.

“Have you ever been behind that curtain, Will?”

“No, I can’t say I’ve ever paid it much attention before.”

Sarah felt apprehensive and proceeded towards the curtain slowly. As she reached it, she placed her left hand on the dusty fabric and pulled it across quickly.

“AAARGH,” screamed a voice at her from within a glass pod. Sarah responded in kind. Will grabbed hold of his sister and pulled her away from the pod, but then stopped abruptly.

“Oh my god. I don’t believe it.”

Gathering her composure, Sarah looked up and was as equally aghast as her brother.

The figure in the pod was a human robot hybrid of Brett Sadler, their next-door neighbour Alice’s son.

Sarah and Will didn’t recognise any of the others, but this freaked them out, as it was someone they knew. This felt personal. The figure in the pod was perturbed by Sarah and Will’s gawping.

“What are you two looking at? Where’s Dr Leidenstraum?” Sarah swiftly pulled the curtain across. The figure continued to remonstrate as they tried to comprehend that it was a clone of Alice’s son.

For Will, the shock forced him to think more about the ramifications of his father’s work. He’d minded a lot less when it was people he didn’t know. This was different, he knew Brett. Whilst Will was slightly older, he’d grown up with him.

Sarah recognised her brother’s anguish. She caringly placed a hand on his shoulder and they embraced, marking another rare tender moment between them. Will asked his sister what they should do, his earlier confidence and determination had seeped away in a heartbeat.

“We must grieve for him and plan the funeral. We need to talk to relatives and friends. I don’t think either of us can deal with this right now.”

Will nodded and they left the warehouse.

Sarah sat on the rusty brown leather couch in silent contemplation. She looked forlornly to her left at the matching empty chair and footstool. A white mug emblazoned with ‘I Love Tenerife’ in red letters, and a sky-blue coloured cereal bowl were on the glass table next to her father’s chair. Sarah had bought the mug for her dad from a tacky gift shop whilst on holiday the year before. He had cherished it ever since. She smiled as she remembered parting with a few pesetas whilst her friend Megan complained about the sunburn on her arms, and wittered about how the waiter at the restaurant the night before was clearly in love with her. They had apparently locked eyes for at least four seconds when he served her paella. How much would the mug cost this year, now Spain had adopted the Euro as currency? Sarah wondered.

Will paced anxiously up and down the well-worn oatmeal carpet. He asked his sister if the revelations had changed her opinion of their father.

“I don’t know. It really hasn’t sunk in yet. I’m still in shock. I don’t want it to, but I fear it might. I’m not ready to deal with that yet.”

The pair discussed contacting various people to break the news of their father’s death. Then the doorbell rang. Will opened the door and was confronted by a ghost. It was Brett Sadler.

“I’ve come to send my condolences,” he said. Brett was fifteen years old, medium height, slim build with a mop of light brown hair. He was an unassuming young man, of a quiet disposition, and academic by nature.

Will was rooted to the spot, but then began to shake like the branch of a tree in a light breeze. He was speechless. Sarah walked through the lounge door, took one look at Brett, and froze also. Brett was perplexed by their reaction to him, but attributed it to grief.

“I’m sorry I probably shouldn’t have come. I’ll go.”

“No. Please come in,” Sarah said.

“I appreciate this is an incredibly tough time for you both, but I wanted to say that I’m very sorry for your loss. He was a great guy and I’ll miss him too.”

“Thank you, Brett. That’s so very kind of you,” Sarah said.

“If I can help with anything please let me know. Anyway, I’d better get going.”

“Thanks, mate,” Will said.

Brett left and Sarah gently closed the door behind him.

“Thanks, sis. Seeing him has really brought it home. I didn’t know how to react or what to say to him.”

“I know, it’s hard to comprehend. My head hasn’t stopped spinning.”

Chapter Two: Choices

Monday 5^th July, 1999. 8.15am.

Breakfast in the Leidenstraum household was always consumed sat at the oval-shaped mahogany table in the dining room. A grainy photograph of the family of four hung on the wall in a large, brown frame. It was perfectly placed to watch over the table. Will loved and hated the photograph in equal measure. He loved seeing them all together, which predated his own earliest memories, but he despised the bright green romper suit populated with teddy bears his parents had chosen for him to wear that day.

Sarah and Will’s mother adored the table in the dining room. She had convinced their father to spend five hundred pounds on it at a specialist furniture store in Abingdon. They had suggested to their father it was time for something more fashionable, but he’d refuted the idea. He had joked it was because he wanted to continue to get his money’s worth. The look in his eye suggested he just couldn’t bear to part with it.

Will was sat at the table eating cereal and drinking a glass of orange juice. His sister joined him with a slice of toast smothered in marmalade and a steaming hot black coffee.

“Be careful not to spill your coffee, sis, this table cost five hundred pounds,” Will said and chuckled.

Sarah smiled. “Dad did love talking about how much this table cost, didn’t he? I think he begrudged her that five hundred pounds. He probably wanted to use the money towards buying a new car.”

Their gentle reminiscence was interrupted by the faint sound of a phone ringing and vibrating. The sound appeared to be coming from a drawer in a tall wooden cabinet stood to the right of the picture frame. They looked at each other bemusedly. Will opened the draw and answered the phone.

“Hello Dr Leidenstraum. How are you this morning?”

“Hello. It’s his son Will here.”

“Oh. Well may I speak with your father please?”

“Who is speaking please?”

“I’m a friend. My name’s John.”

“Well John. I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid my father passed away on Saturday.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry for your loss, Will.” The phone then went dead.

“Hello? Hello…?”

“Who was that?”

“A friend of dad’s called John.”

The phone then beeped. It was a text message.

John: “Meet me outside the cathedral at eleven thirty. Don’t be late.”

“This is odd. What are we going to do?” Will said.

“Nothing. Aunt Janice is coming this morning and we’re going to make the funeral arrangements. Reply to this John and tell him that.”

Will drafted the message as per his sister’s instructions and sent it to John.

The phone immediately beeped in response.

John: “Warehouse.”

Sarah and Will stared at each other in shock and Will began to panic.

“Oh my god. Who is this guy calling himself John? How the hell does he know about the warehouse? This is freaking me out. We’re going to have to meet him.”

“No, we can’t. Please try and stay calm, Will. Tell him we’ll contact him later after we’ve sorted everything out and once Aunt Janice has left. We’ll then arrange to meet him.”

Will: “John. This is going to have to wait until later.”

They paused for a few moments in anticipation, but a response was not forthcoming. The doorbell then rang. It was Aunt Janice, their mum’s sister.

“I’m so sorry, you two. Come here and give your Aunt Janice a big hug.” Janice was fifty-three years-old, medium height, very overweight, with curly dark brown hair; she was twice divorced with no children. Janice was a fun-loving and a deeply caring person, but somewhat naïve. Individually, Sarah and Will had both been very close to their aunt growing up and were relieved to see her.

They talked things over and Janice offered to assist with the plans and reduce the burden for them as much as possible. Janice went out to her car to bring in her suitcase and bags as she’d planned to stay with Sarah and Will for a few days. Whilst Janice was doing this, the phone rang and Will answered it. It was John.

“Who is the fat woman collecting her belongings from the Punto?”

“How dare you talk about my Aunt Janice like that. Wait a minute. How do you…?” The phone then went dead. Will looked at his sister with sheer terror.

“AUNT JANICE,” they both said, and ran outside to see a man approaching their aunt.

“Hello. Is it Janice?” John said. He was a tall man of athletic build, middle aged with receding blonde hair and the facial features of an inquisitive hamster. He was immaculately dressed in a light grey suit, white shirt and claret coloured tie with pristine brown shoes.

Janice turned around and smiled. “Yes. Do I know you dear?”

“No. I’m John, a friend of Dr… I’m a friend of Robert’s. He’d talked about you and I’d seen some old photos. I’ve come to pass on my condolences to Sarah and Will.” Both stood on the driveway looking anxiously at John, alarmed by what was going to happen next.

“Come in, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea or coffee,” Janice said.

“A coffee would be lovely, thank you. Milk and one sugar please.” John offered his sympathies to Sarah and Will; their faces were etched with fear and apprehension. Whilst Janice made the drinks, Sarah and Will accompanied John into the lounge.

“You’re in danger. I’m concerned your father’s death wasn’t an accident. Stay away from the warehouse until I tell you otherwise –” he cut short what he was saying as Janice walked in with the drinks and asked John how he knew Robert.

“Through the medical profession. He was a great man who will be sorely missed. You don’t have any biscuits, do you? Sorry to be a pain.”

“Yes, we’ve got some digestives,” Sarah said.

“Wonderful. They’re my favourite.”

“I’ll get them,” Janice said.

“They’re in the cupboard next to the fridge, Aunt Janice,” Sarah said.

“Clearly, I can’t get into this right now with your aunt here, but I need to speak to you as soon as possible. Please give me a call.” John stood up to leave.

“What about your biscuits, dear?” Janice said as she returned to the lounge.

“I’m going to have to run, unfortunately, but I’ll gladly take two with me, or maybe three. Thank you very much for your hospitality.” John nodded at Sarah and Will as he departed.

“What a lovely man,” Janice said. Sarah and Will remained silent, unsure what to make of their surprise visitor. The trio then commenced the task of formalising funeral arrangements.

Later, Janice suggested she go shopping to get some food for the next few days.

“I won’t be too long,” Janice said. As she left, she noticed an envelope addressed to Sarah and Will lying on the porch floor. “There’s a letter for you two. I’ll put it on the table.”

“Thanks,” Sarah said as she and Will discussed calling John.

“We’ve got to find out more from him about what’s going on,” Will said.

“I agree, but he seriously scared me. He had a strange demeanour about him.”

“I’m going to call him.” Will dialled the number. As he did so, Sarah opened the envelope.

“Will, it’s a letter from John. He must have left it on his way out.”

At that point, Will’s call was accepted. “Hi John.” Much to Will’s surprise, a female voice answered.

“Where’s John? Who are you?”

“I’m John’s colleague, Rachel, John’s busy.”

Sarah glanced intermittently at her brother, trying to establish what was happening whilst continuing to read the letter.

“Ok, well we’re supposed to be arranging to meet with John.”

“You can arrange to meet with me instead.”

Sarah finished reading the letter and waved it at Will in a frenzy. The letter read: ‘Don’t speak to anyone else except me. If you receive contact from anyone else, don’t trust them. If you contact me and reach someone else it means I’m in trouble. Do what you can to help me, but please don’t endanger yourselves.’

“O… ok… Rachel…. Yes…. I guess we’d better meet you,” Will said, whilst trying to digest the information.

“Meet me at the coffee shop with the blue sign on the High St in an hour. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, ok. We will see you there, Rachel.” The phone line went dead.

“I thought I was scared, now I’m petrified. Do you think we should be meeting her?” Sarah said.

“I’m not sure what choice we have, sis.”

Sarah and Will left a note for Aunt Janice and went to the coffee shop. They sat next to each other at the furthest table in the far left-hand corner of the shop. They sat facing the front door of the shop, with Will sat nearest the wall. There were about a dozen customers inside and two busy staff behind the counter. The toilets were on the opposite side of the shop. Sarah and Will were sufficient distance from prying ears. Will fidgeted nervously. He leaned on the edge of the table, accidentally smearing his arm with the remnants of a custard cream slice messily discarded by a previous patron.

“For goodness’ sake, Will. Please watch what you’re doing,” Sarah said and handed him a tissue from her bag.

“It’s not my fault the table is dirty, is it?” Will said as he wiped his arm.

“Keep your voice down. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves because of a bit of cake.”

A thirtysomething, tall, attractive female with flawless skin, finely plucked eyebrows, and pearly white teeth entered the shop. She had rich and luscious dark hair. She wore a designer black suit. The fashion choice combined with her stern and humourless demeanour conveyed the appearance of an upmarket undertaker who had become separated from the cortege.

Rachel surveyed the shop with her ocean blue eyes. The way Sarah and Will stared at her gave themselves away immediately. That and the fact none of the other patrons were a day under thirty-five. Apart from a little boy in a pushchair nursing a rusk as his mum chatted on a mobile phone. Rachel walked over and sat down opposite Sarah.

“Where’s John? How do we know we can trust you?” Will said. He was more scared than his sister, but desperate not to show it.

“A simple hello would have been a start. I’ll get him on the phone if that puts your mind at ease.”

“Hi John, it’s Rachel.” She passed the phone to Will.

“Hi John, it’s Will. Are you ok?”

“Hi Will.” Will felt relieved to hear John’s voice, but then considered he didn’t know John any more than he knew Rachel and remained guarded.

“We found your note, John.”

“Yes. Sorry I was being very cautious. I wanted to make sure that should anyone contact you, you would be wary and challenge it. I’m sorry my colleague Rachel has had to meet with you in my place. I’m dealing with some urgent business. I’m sure you understand?”

“Ok John. No worries.”

“Rachel will explain everything. I’ll see you soon.” The phone call ended.

Sarah and Will looked at Rachel with trepidation.

“Your father’s work had obviously been kept top secret, but unfortunately there’s been a leak. It is thought a security cleared IT contractor sold details of your father’s work to a rogue foreign state. We’ve found out about it and need to protect you, as well as the important work your father was involved in.”

“Rogue foreign state? What are you trying to say, that Saddam Hussein is after us?” Will said.

“Not quite, but you need to be aware that you’re likely to be targeted as they don’t appear to know the location of the warehouse.”

Janice loved her Punto. It was a shade of purple, subject of a few repairs, and had clearly seen better days. Janice recognised the Punto was in many ways a reflection of herself. As she parked on the pebble driveway in front of the white garage door, Janice was completely unaware her every move was being watched. Janice unloaded the shopping from the car, but felt uncomfortable as she became aware of someone approaching her. She turned around. It was John.

“Hello John, you startled me.”

“Sorry to frighten you, Janice. I can’t find my wallet and thought I may have left it here earlier on today. I couldn’t have a look for it could I?”

“Of course, you can, John. You don’t need my help do you? I’d like to help but–”

‘No, I don’t need any help thank you. You focus on unloading the shopping.”

They entered the house and John headed straight for the study. He rifled around, but was disturbed by Janice.

“What are you doing? You didn’t go in here earlier. Why would your wallet be in here?”

“I didn’t, did I? Silly me,” John said, as an angry expression covered his face. They walked out of the room with John behind Janice. He reached into his pocket.

Rachel sipped her strongly caffeinated beverage, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on the side of her cup.

“I do love an espresso,” Rachel said.

“If we’re in danger, what are we going to do?” Sarah said. She didn’t want to appear rude, but this wasn’t the time for a polite conversation about coffee.

“Don’t worry we will take steps to protect you.”

“What about Aunt Janice? She’s at our house. She could be in danger,” Will said.

As Rachel was poised to answer, the sound of sirens could be heard approaching, followed by the screeching of tyres as several vehicles pulled up outside the café. Rachel jumped to her feet.

“Oh my god they’ve found us. Quickly, follow me to the fire exit.” Sarah and Will did as Rachel instructed. As Rachel burst through the door, she was apprehended by uniformed police officers, wrestled to the ground, and placed in handcuffs. Sarah and Will froze and placed their hands compliantly in the air.

“William and Sarah Leidenstraum?” A female wearing a stab proof vest with her fist clenched firmly around the baton extended by her side said. “I’m Detective Sergeant Clare Stevens from Oxfordshire Constabulary. We need to have a chat. You can put your hands down.” Clare Stevens was short to medium height and of slim build. She had a strong Scottish accent and possessed a facial expression and demeanour that would send a rottweiler into retreat. She had cold, squinting eyes, a convex nose, and nicotine-stained, uneven teeth. She exuded an aggressive authority and evidently commanded respect.

Sarah and Will looked at each other puzzled, stunned, and scared. They gradually lowered their hands.

“It’s such sad news about my brother-in-law, John. I guess you just never know when your time is up,” Janice said whilst walking to the kitchen.

John retrieved a taser from his pocket. He was about to strike Janice when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Janice said turning to look at John as John hurriedly hid the taser behind his back. Janice answered the door to two uniformed police officers as John scurried out of view behind the kitchen door.

“Hi, madam. There’s been an incident involving Sarah and William and we’re here to make sure everything is ok,” one of the officers said.

“Incident. Are they alright?”

“Yes, they’re absolutely fine. Please put your mind at ease.”

“Well, I’m fine, thank you. There’s just John here looking for his wallet,” Janice said, blissfully unaware of the peril the knock at the door had saved her from.

Both officers looked at each other anxiously upon hearing this and reached for their batons. One officer spoke into his radio. “Female at the location is safe and well. A possible suspect may still be at the premises,” he said.

John listened intently from the kitchen as he desperately contemplated his next move. He noticed a key was in the back door. He slowly turned it to unlock and gently pulled the handle down, ensuring he made as little noise as possible. John darted down the side passageway into the back garden, and ran as fast as he could along the recently mowed lawn towards the rear fence, which he climbed with the vigour of an army recruit tackling an assault course.

As one of the officers entered the kitchen, he saw the open door and looked through the kitchen window at the exact same moment as John’s legs cleared the fence. He was then able to make good his escape along the alleyway behind the fence.

“HE’S GOT AWAY,” the officer said.

A frustrated DS Stevens heard this on the radio. “Ok, secure the scene and wait for another car to collect the female,” she responded. She informed Sarah and Will that their aunt was ok and they would be taken to the station to be spoken to.

Officers provided Janice with vague information about what had happened and questioned her about John. All three were unaware that John was now in the vicinity of the front of the house. He carefully entered his car parked opposite, desperately trying not to attract attention. He reached into the glove compartment for his gun and contemplated returning to the house, even with the officers in attendance.

As John was about to step out from his car, another marked police car appeared in his rear-view mirror, drove past his vehicle, and parked a short distance in front of him. He hid from view as two visibly armed officers got out of their vehicle and rushed towards the house, where one of the officers present let them in.

John concluded the situation was now too risky and instead seized the opportunity to get away. He started his engine, which alerted officers in the house. Janice looked out of the window.

“That’s him. That’s John.”

The armed officers rushed outside towards their vehicle as John sped away. They identified the registration details of the vehicle and commenced pursuit, but they were too far behind and quickly lost his trail. John had escaped.

In a car on the way to the station, Stevens heard the news. “I don’t believe it,” Stevens said, and punched the steering wheel in annoyance. “ALL UNITS IN THE LOCAL AREA, FOCUS ON FINDING THAT CAR NOW,” Stevens transmitted across the radio. Sarah and Will looked at each other, both equally scared and bemused by the rapidly unravelling circumstances they found themselves in.

Stevens turned to Sarah and Will. “Everything will be ok. We’ll get things sorted. Try not to worry.” The tone in Stevens’ voice and feigned look of hope in her eyes did very little to reassure them.

Sarah and Will were led through a corridor to a small room with a brown windowless door. The door had a small silver-coloured sign in the middle of it, with ‘Witnesses’ inscribed in black letters.

“I’ve never been in a police station before. It really does look just like Sun Hill Station on The Bill,” Will said.

Stevens rolled her eyes. “Most offices look the same, William; this is just an office with people who wear a uniform. Please take a seat,” Stevens said and closed the door behind them.

Sarah and Will again sat next to each other facing the door; Stevens remained on her feet. The table was somewhat sturdier than the one in the coffee shop. Will instinctively checked the table for cream; he wasn’t going to make that mistake twice in the same day.

The door opened and in walked Janice. Sarah and Will both jumped to their feet at the sight of their aunt. They hugged her tightly. Janice was still none the wiser about the facts surrounding the unfolding drama.

“I’m glad you’re both ok. What on earth is going on?” Janice said.

Stevens interrupted the reunion, introduced herself to Janice and shook her hand.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Stevens, Clare Stevens, and I need to speak to Sarah and Will privately. There’s been some confusion around some of Dr Leidenstraum… Robert’s work, and where he kept some keys to his laboratory. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Ok dear,” Janice said, as she was ushered away by some other officers and taken to another room.

“Tell me what you know of your father’s work, then I’ll explain to you what’s happening and what will happen next.”

“He’s been making human-robot hybrids that are clones of real humans and keeping them in a warehouse. We don’t know a lot more than that,” Will said, resigned to the fact the truth had to emerge.

“It’s been going on for a very long time, since the eighties,” Sarah said. “My father’s not a bad man, is he? Please tell me he’s not?”

Stevens took a deep breath. “I’ll give you both a full overview of events. You will have to decide for yourselves the ethics and morality of your father and his work. I’d be grateful if you could save any questions you have until the end.” Stevens proceeded to read from a briefing document:

“Dr Robert Leidenstraum was commissioned by the British Government in nineteen eighty to be a long-term scientific advisor in the development of interactive technology and software. This was with the objective of assisting humans in overcoming a variety of medical conditions and ailments. He would be a leading specialist in his field which would be known as biotechphilanthropical studies.”

Sarah and Will raised their eyebrows. “No, me either,” Stevens acknowledged.

“Dr Leidenstraum has conducted research and produced numerous papers for official purposes within government, scientific and medical circles. What he didn’t communicate was that he had been conducting experiments outside of the scope of his brief for many years. In recent times some of your father’s conclusions had drawn scepticism from other experts in medical, scientific, and technological fields and suspicion was raised as to how he was generating the results of his research. A top-secret undercover investigation was launched into your father. You’ll appreciate that due to the sensitivity of the operation not many people were aware of it. However, rumours of a leak within the investigation started to circulate and a counter investigation was initiated which established that details of your father’s work and the existence of a warehouse/laboratory had become known by, shall we say, hostile countries who would be interested in these developments. The counter investigation established that the man you know as John, he himself a scientific advisor to the top-secret investigation, was likely responsible for the leak. At this point, we don’t know if he’s been paid for this or how he came to leak the information. Investigations into John have so far led us to the female you know as Rachel, but nobody else. The plan was to allow John to contact your father and take it from there, but your father’s death has altered events and leaves you and the legacy of his work vulnerable to exploitation by dangerous individuals. Had your father survived, we would have been looking to arrest him for his actions.”

“What happens now and what about his funeral?” Sarah said, as tears streamed down her face.

“We need to protect you and those closest to you, including at the funeral. We will take all necessary steps to do so.”

“Once John found out dad was dead, why did he come to the house?” Will said.

“At the moment our working hypothesis is that John hadn’t managed to establish the location of the warehouse. He was trying to obtain information about that and anything else of significance to your father’s work. We’re going to keep you in an apartment and you will have security twenty-four hours a day. Your home will remain under armed guard. We’ll also be looking to put in plans to covertly guard the warehouse once we know where it is.”

Sarah and Will looked at each other and nodded. “We know where it is,” they said.

“Ok, I’ll talk to you about that later. In the meantime, I can arrange for some of your things to be collected, but you won’t be able to go back home for the foreseeable future. I know this must be difficult for you, but I’m sure you’ll appreciate your safety is paramount.”

“What about Aunt Janice?” Will said.

“She’s going to be taken to her own house and will have officers covertly monitoring her address. She mustn’t be told what’s going on. The less she or anyone else knows the better. We’ll let you speak to her on the phone later.”

Sarah and Will were then taken to an underground car park at the station, placed into an unmarked van and escorted to the secret location.

In a quiet street near a country park, in a neighbouring town, a male sat anxiously in his car. His face and body were drenched in sweat. Tears filled his eyes. It was John. He took a photo from his wallet of a woman and two children. “I love you. I’m sorry,” he whispered tenderly. A solitary tear dripped onto the photo. He reminisced about the many times he’d parked in this street to take his family to the park. His children loved the adventure play area almost as much as the sound of the ice cream van that inevitably appeared on cue, much to the delight of the swathes of children playing joyously. John was partial to a ninety-nine with raspberry sauce himself. Would he ever come here and buy his family ice cream again? Then his phone rang. His eyes widened with fear.

“Hello. Who is this?” his voice trembled.

“John, I’m not sure if you know, but Rachel has been detained. I hope you have obtained the information we require?” a male voice said.

“No, the police turned up. I was fortunate to get away without being arrested.”

“This isn’t good enough, John. I’m going to give you two days to resolve or else.”

“Two days. How?” The phone line went dead.

John head-butted the steering wheel of the car four times in sheer frustration. He then received a text message from a number he didn’t recognise which read:

Unknown: “To help you with your mission. Meet me at the coffee shop on Argyll Street tomorrow morning at nine. Don’t be late.”

Magnolia paint covered every wall of the sparsely furnished, but sizeable apartment. It had a cosy kitchen diner with white table and chairs which camouflaged into the matching clinical kitchen cupboards, work tops, and electrical goods.

“It could be quite a nice apartment, this,” Sarah said. “With some different paint on the walls, and maybe some wallpaper and some pictures. The police protection budget clearly doesn’t stretch far where furniture is concerned.”

“I don’t care about the colour of the paint and the fact there’s no coffee table. I can’t believe we’re stuck here, it’s ridiculous,” Will said as he paced up and down the lounge.

“What else did you expect from dad pretending to be a modern-day Frankenstein? You thought it was cool and exciting him playing God. And you, trying to impress him by helping him. I just wish he were her to experience this, I just wish he was here.”

Sarah held her head in her hands and cried what little tears she had left. Will hugged his sister; their father’s death seemingly continuing to bring them closer together than ever before.

Chapter Three: Danger

Tuesday 6^th July, 1999. 8:55am.

John had grown to like the coffee shop on Argyll Street. It was cosier than the one on the High St and unlike the one on the High St his wife’s cousin wasn’t the Duty Manager. She didn’t like John and would invariably tell his wife if he dared to treat himself to a luxury chocolate brownie to accompany one of their delicious tuna and cheese melt toasties. John’s wife didn’t understand why the toasties weren’t satisfying enough. She lectured him about the outrageous calorie content of consuming the unnecessary sugary snack.

The shop on Argyll St looked relatively quiet this morning. John entered and ordered a flat white with an accompanying packet of biscuits. He sat on a table with two seats in the corner. As he proceeded to melt a biscuit over his hot beverage, a tall attractive female in her late twenties with brown hair, wearing a smart grey suit jacket and skirt approached him.

“Good morning, John,” she said smiling. She hugged John warmly which made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. “My name is Laura. Pretend we know each other and be convincing,” she whispered.

John did as Laura instructed and awkwardly reciprocated the hug. “It’s lovely to see you, Laura. What can I get you?” His greeting sincerely lacked any tangible authenticity.

“Skinny latte please, John. I’ll pass on the biscuits,” Laura said, as she elegantly took a seat. John stared intently at Laura with his face scrunched up in thought.

“What are you staring at? Go and get my coffee. We haven’t got all day.”

“It’s just… well, you remind me a lot of Rachel. Only greyer. The suit I mean, not your hair, or personality or anything.”

“Coffee. Now, John.”

Upon his return with the beverage, Laura retrieved an envelope from her handbag and discreetly opened it to reveal photographs of Rachel’s meeting with Sarah and Will leading up to the police raid and Rachel’s apprehension.

Laura sniggered at the shocked expression on John’s face. “Staying one step ahead is very important if you wish to succeed, John.” Astonished, John merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Laura showed John a photograph of Clare Stevens taken during the arrest. “This is Detective Sergeant Clare Stevens. She announced her name during the arrest and Rachel slipped it to her solicitor in custody.”

“The solicitor’s corrupt?”

“Keep your voice down. Yes, of course he is. Do you think our employers would expect us to use the duty solicitor if we’re nicked?”

“They’re not my employers.”

Laura smiled. “The Leidenstraum household is going to be off limits now. To complete your mission, you’re going to need to figure out where they’ve taken Sarah and Will and the best solution to that is Clare Stevens. Now you know what she looks like, I suggest you stake out the police station, and follow her when she leaves.”

“You want me to carry out surveillance of a police station and of a police officer? Are you mad? I’ll get caught.”

“John, you’re displaying a very negative attitude. I suggest you show a bit more positivity about what you need to do and focus on the consequences of failure. That should help you to explore the art of the possible,” Laura said, as she leaned in close to John. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do as you’re told and you’ll do it well.” She kissed John on the cheek delicately and laughed.

“Thank you for the coffee, John. It’s been lovely. See you again soon.”

“I hope not,” John muttered under his breath. He stared at the photo of Clare Stevens and worriedly contemplated the day ahead.

Will paced up and down the beige carpet of the living room. Every carpet in the apartment was beige. Magnolia walls and beige carpet. Sarah looked out of the window at the car park. Thirty-four parking bays, fifteen in use. Four of the cars were red. None of them were ‘Joanna.’ They both grew increasingly restless. Fear and grief had been fleetingly substituted with tedium.

Will received a text message from his friend Tariq:

Tariq: “Hi bro, what’s happening? I’ve not heard from you and thought we could play Snooker later? Txt bk.”

Tariq was eighteen years old, medium height with a stocky build and was a bit of a joker. He was one of Will’s best friends.

Will responded: “Hi mate, sorry I’ve not been in touch, my dad has died and things have been a bit crazy. My head is all over the place.”

Tariq replied: “Sorry, bro. We must meet up soon.” Tariq turned to his sister Shabeela, aged thirteen, and said: “That’s sad, you know?”

“What is?”

“My mate Will. His dad has died.” At this point their father Tanveer entered the room.

“That is sad news, Tariq. How old was he?” Shabeela said.

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

“How old was who? What are you two talking about?” Tanveer said. He was a short, rotund man with an even shorter temper.

“My mate Will’s dad has died.”

“Will who? Not a name I’ve heard you mention much of before, son.”

“I met him at college. We went to different schools so I didn’t know him from before. He’s got a strange surname. I think his dad was German or something. It’s Leivenbaum or Leidenbeam, or something like that anyway.”

“Is it Leidenstraum?” Tanveer said, with a look of horror etched on his face.

“Yes, that’s it. How did you get that dad?”

“Well, it sounds German, doesn’t it? It was obvious,” Tanveer said sheepishly.

“Are you ok dad? You’ve gone a bit pale,” Tariq said, perturbed by his father’s odd reaction.

“I’m fine, son. I’m fine. I just need to get some air.” He then went outside and sent a message on his phone:

Tanveer: “WE NEED TO SPEAK NOW.”

The phone rang instantly. “What is it?” a male voice said.

“My boy knows Leidenstraum’s son.”

“Why the hell have you never said anything before now?”

“I didn’t know, I’ve just found out. I had no idea.”

“Ok, see what you can do through your boy to track him down. I’ve got someone else working on it as well.”

Tanveer walked back into the room. “You should get back in touch with your mate Will and see if you can help him with anything, like the funeral.”

“Why are you so interested all of a sudden?” Tariq said.

“I’m not, just trying to teach you some manners and respect, boy, which you’re clearly lacking. Maybe you should arrange to meet up with him.”

“I’ve made that offer, just got to give him some space to let him grieve I think and let him decide if he wants to get in touch with me.”

“You’re right, son. Just be there for him if he needs you.”

Tariq and Shabeela glanced at each other, both suspicious of their father’s unusually caring attitude.

John sat in his car watching the comings and goings of Oxford’s boys and girls in blue. Who carries out surveillance of a police station, he thought to himself as he peered through a pair of binoculars that would be more suited to birdwatching. Is this what officers did when watching suspects? It wasn’t a job John would want to do. A good friend of his from secondary school had moved to London and joined the police cadets. The last he’d heard, he had been promoted to Inspector and had married a sergeant. They’d had twins and were living in a leafy Surrey suburb. If only he could see John now.

John observed DS Stevens leaving the station in a car and started to follow her, but soon got caught up in traffic at a red light. In a split second he decided to swerve around the car in front and jump the red light, turning right onto the dual carriageway to maintain his pursuit of Stevens. Cars beeped furiously at John as a collision was narrowly avoided.

Unbeknownst to John, the beeping horns and his actions were witnessed by Stevens in her rear-view mirror. She realised the car matched the description of John’s, thought it was too much of a coincidence and requested back-up. So as to not alert John, she maintained a steady speed, but amended her route away from the journey to the location of Sarah and Will.

Continuing to give her position and with back up units not far away, she pulled into the residential car park of an apartment block and parked up. John drove behind her and parked a few spaces further along. Stevens pretended to search for something in her bag and did everything she could so as not to alert John or arouse his suspicion. This caused John to panic and he became caught in two minds as to how to react. Impatiently, he got out of his vehicle and approached hers. She locked herself in. He banged furiously at the window, pulled out a gun and pointed it towards her. Stevens screamed and, with exquisite timing, police cars swarmed the car park. John turned around with the gun still poised. This was perceived as an act of aggression by armed officers who immediately discharged their weapons. John fell to the ground, blood trickled out of him and under Stevens’ car. She got out of the car and tended to him on the ground.

“My wife and kids, please. You’ve got to help me. They’ve got my wife and kids. I’m not the bad guy,” John said as he gasped for breath.

John was rushed to hospital by ambulance. Stevens accompanied him. Drifting in and out of consciousness, Stevens encouraged John to expand on what he’d said. She gripped his hand firmly. “Stay awake. Speak to me. Come on, tell me about your family.”

“Kidnapped. They’ve been kidnapped. I was forced to do this,” he said as he became increasingly weak.

“Who has kidnapped them? Come on give me something that will help me find them?”

John gasped and reached towards his trouser pocket. “Phone. Numbers in phone. Photos. Rachel.”

“I know about Rachel, but I need other names. Anything you can remember.”

“Laura. Laura,” he said.

“Laura. Who is Laura?” Stevens said. She pressed John for more information, but he became unresponsive. As a paramedic tended to him, Stevens removed the phone, wallet, and keys from John’s pocket. The ambulance arrived at hospital and John was rushed immediately into surgery. Stevens opened John’s wallet and found the picture of his wife and children. She prayed that John would survive his injuries, but vowed to find them no matter what.

Detective Chief Superintendent (DCS) Paul Johnson was a domineering figure, very tall and stocky with broad shoulders; a talented rugby player in his youth, he was renowned for his expensive but ill-fitting suits and receding hairline. He was carrying a substantial beer belly and double chin; his reliance on alcohol evident in the angry capillaries that adorned his face like intertwining lines on a map.

Stevens entered the CID room and headed straight for Johnson’s office. He was the senior responsible officer for the investigation and had trained her when she first became a Detective Constable. Clare had full faith in him as both a superior and a trusted confidante.

“Sir, I need to debrief you on this afternoon’s events,” Stevens said.

“Come in, Clare, and close the door,” Johnson said.

DC Marcia Reynolds watched intently from her desk. She was a tall, well-built mixed-race female in her mid-twenties, very smartly dressed, and a recently qualified, but ambitious and eager detective who had asked to shadow DS Stevens as part of her development. DC Reynolds admired Stevens and had sought advice from her when she had sat her exams and applied to be a detective. Something in Stevens’ demeanour made Reynolds think this could be a good opportunity.

“Sir, the subject who was shot. I don’t think he’s the cause of the leak in the investigation into Dr Leidenstraum.”

“Clare, I find your response a bit of a surprise. All evidence points towards him and he’s just followed you armed with a gun,” Johnson said.

“Sir, whilst laying on the ground having been shot, he told me someone had taken his wife and kids. In the ambulance he again reiterated they’d been kidnapped. I think he’s been set up.”

“He’d just been shot. He probably didn’t know what he was saying.”

“Sir, honestly I am convinced he’s telling the truth.”

“Ok, I will assign some resources from here to work with you. It is best we keep it secret between us, Clare. I’m not convinced we can trust the others in the counter investigation.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it, but are you sure that’s wise? It’s a breach of protocol. The counter investigation was set up–”

“Clare, I’m well versed in the protocols of such matters, but this is an unusual case. I’d rather be confident in my own command and control, if that’s ok? I will be completely responsible for this. I don’t want you to feel I’m placing you in a compromising situation.”

“Thank you, sir. I respect your decision.” As Stevens turned around to leave the office, she saw Reynolds through the glass. Reynolds looked at Stevens with a willing smile. Stevens stopped and turned around to face the Chief Superintendent.

“Was there something else, Clare?”

“Actually sir,” she pointed at DC Reynolds, “maybe Marcia Reynolds can help me. She’s new and really keen. It could be a good learning opportunity for her.”

“Errr no,” Johnson stuttered. “She’s still relatively new as you say and I think you need more experienced detectives for this. Please leave it to me.”

“Sir, I’m sure she would benefit from–”

“Clare, Marcia has other things she needs to do. She will no doubt be able to support you on something else when she’s more experienced. Trust me, I will find you some resources.”

“Yes sir. Sorry. Thank you.” Clare was disappointed in the response, but respected his decision gracefully. As Clare left Johnson’s office, she looked at Reynolds and said: “I’m sorry, I tried. We’ll definitely work together soon, I promise.”

Reynolds smiled and nodded at Clare. “Thank you, Sarge. I appreciate it.”

It had been frowned upon when Tanveer had put his mother into a care home a few months ago. Tanveer’s family, friends, and the wider Muslim community were disgusted with him. It was perceived as a shameful and selfish act not to take an elder into your own home and care for them as they had cared for you. Some people at the mosque had shunned Tanveer ever since. Tanveer wished he’d had a sister to take care of her; he had two brothers, but they were both overseas. If neither of them were prepared to give up their lives and return to the UK to look after her, why should he? Besides it was a nice care home, although culturally his mother had struggled to adapt, as her English wasn’t very good. He was sure she was happy enough though.

Tanveer’s phone rang. “I’m going to have to take this, Mum,” he said. He stepped out of her room into the nursing home corridor and answered it.

“Has your boy got in touch with the Leidenstraum boy yet?”

“Give me a chance. I don’t want to arouse any suspicion.”

“You need to get a grip of this. Time is of the essence and I’m currently having trouble getting hold of the person I had looking into it. You need to show a bit more urgency, do you hear me?”

“Ok, ok. I will speak to my boy.”

“You’ve got twenty-four hours.” The phone went dead. In a panic, Tanveer phoned his son.

“Hi dad.”

“Hi son. Are you at home?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason. I am just with grandma and was going to have a chat with you when I get home. I haven’t spent much time with you lately.”

“Are you ok, dad?”

“Fine son, fine.”

“Ok, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Tanveer said goodbye to his mother and drove home. He walked in the front door and shouted Tariq’s name repeatedly and impatiently.

“Dad, what is wrong?” Tariq said as he walked out of the lounge.

“Nothing’s wrong, boy. Can’t a father be interested in spending time with his boy.”

“Sure, but–”

“But what?”

“We don’t spend a lot of time together, do we? We haven’t done for a long time. Not since before mum went to Pakistan.”

Tanveer looked Tariq directly in the eye. “That’s what I want to change. Even just having a chat. Let’s sit down and have a chat in the lounge now,” completely ignoring the reference to his estranged wife.

“Ok, dad.” They sat down, Tariq on the sofa, Tanveer on a chair. There was an awkward silence.

Tariq’s phone beeped. He instinctively retrieved the phone from his pocket.

“So, I say I want to talk to you and you’re more interested in your phone.”

“Sorry. What do you want from me, dad? It’s a message from Will. Ok?”

“The Leidenstraum boy?”

“Yes, and can’t you just call him Will?”

“How is he doing?”

“Why are you bothered?”

Tanveer looked at his son angrily.

“Ok. He says he wants to meet me, but he can’t at the moment.”

“Perhaps you could go and see him. Say that you’ll go and see him.”

“Do you think I should? Maybe he just needs time.”

Tariq: “I’ll come to yours if it’s easier. We’ll go to Snooker another time.”

Will: “I’m not at home.”

Tariq: “Ok, maybe I can meet you somewhere?”

Will: “That’d be good. Let’s meet at the Snooker Hall actually. Give me two hours, ok?”

Tariq: “Ok bro. See you there.”

“I’m going to meet Will at the Snooker Hall in two hours,” Tariq said to Tanveer.

“Ok, son. I think that’s a great idea. It’s very caring of you for a friend in need of support at a difficult time. I’m proud of you.” Tanveer then stood up to leave the lounge.

“Where are you going? I thought you wanted to spend time together,” Tariq said.

“I do son, but–”

“But what dad?”

“I’ve got things to do and you’re going to be meeting your friend soon anyway.”

Tariq stood up from his seat angrily, brushed past his father and left the room to go upstairs. Tanveer went outside into the garden and took out his phone. Tariq slammed his bedroom door and stared out of the window. He saw his father in the garden and opened the window ajar. Tanveer made a call, unaware his son was listening to him.

“My boy is going to meet the Leidenstraum boy at the Snooker Hall on Chamberlain St in two hours’ time. I need reassurances for my boy’s safety. Please tell me my boy won’t come to any harm, please. Hello… HELLO.” Tariq watched his father pacing and holding his head. As Tanveer turned around to face the house, Tariq dropped to the floor in his room to ensure his father didn’t see him. Tariq messaged Will:

Tariq: “Yo bro, not sure about Snooker innit. I hurt my arm in the gym, you know? Meet me in the coffee shop opposite. Can you make it half hour earlier?”

Will: “Hurt yourself in the gym. A likely excuse. You need to stop watching porn, but yeah ok, I’ll meet you in the coffee shop.”

“I’m feeling a bit tired. I’m going to have a lie down for a while,” Will said to Sarah.

“Ok, no worries. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Once inside his bedroom, Will opened a window and climbed out. He managed to hang out of the window by his fingertips and shuffled along to drop to the balcony below. He then climbed over the balcony and lowered himself until it was just a short drop to the ground.

Johnson sat in his plush glass fronted office and squeezed a bright red stress ball. He had a lot of outstanding paperwork to complete, but the sports section of his favourite newspaper sprawled out in front of him was competing for his attention.

DC Simon Lyle and DC Natasha Herbert bounded confidently into the CID office and knocked the door of Johnson’s office. Clare Stevens briefly looked up from her paperwork.

Johnson slid the sports section out of sight and beckoned them in. “Tell Clare Stevens to join us, Natasha,” Johnson said.

“Sarge,” Natasha said, as she poked her head out of the door and planted a fake smile in Clare’s direction. “The guv has asked if you can join us.”

Clare Stevens put down her trusted black biro, walked to the office and closed the door behind her.

“Clare, I’ve spoken to DI Taylor and DS Simpson and they’re able to release Simon and Natasha to help you review this potential kidnap,” Johnson said.

Stevens wasn’t particularly pleased with the resources Johnson had allocated to her, but didn’t wish to appear ungrateful to a superior officer whom she held in high regard. Whilst she’d never worked closely with them, she was aware Herbert and Lyle both had mixed reputations at best amongst colleagues. “Thank you, sir. I have a plan of action in mind which Simon and Natasha can assist me with.”

Simon Lyle was in his late twenties, a conventionally good-looking male who was fully aware of that fact, tall with blonde, perfectly styled hair. He swaggered, with a confidence bordering on arrogance, was streetwise, opinionated, and often aggressive. He was a challenging character who revelled in his polarising reputation.

Natasha Herbert was a cold, cunning, vicious, manipulative, short and slim female in her mid-twenties with shoulder length dark hair. Her persona made her less popular than Lyle with her peers, but she was respected by seniors for her demonstrable intelligence and diligence.

Stevens placed the items retrieved from John’s pocket on Johnson’s desk and listed actions to be taken. “I’ve noted one number from John’s phone that’s been in touch with him recently, but isn’t stored as a contact. I think that must be a starting point. Natasha, can you please cross reference it with the phone seized from Rachel when she was brought into custody? Simon, we need to go to John Paterson’s home and do a search,” Stevens said.

Three miles away in Chamberlain St, Will occupied a wooden seat looking out of the window of the coffee shop. He ordered a latte and waited for Tariq.

A short while later, Tariq appeared. Tariq was clearly nervous and on edge. He had a worried look on his face and was fidgeting. A concerned Will asked him if he was ok.

“I’m fine. Do you mind if I sit facing the window? I’ve got a headache and need to get some light.”

“Bad arm, bad head. I thought you were the one supposed to be cheering me up,” Will said.

“Sorry, bro, how are you? I’m sorry to hear about your dad.”

“Thank you. It’s tough. I’m trying to come to terms with things, but I’m finding it hard.”

“I can imagine. I know it seems a strange thing to say, but are you in some sort of trouble mate?”

“How do you mean? Why would you ask that?”

“I’m sorry, man, ignore me.”

“What do you know?” Before Tariq could respond he saw his dad’s silver-coloured Mercedes C Class car pull up outside the Snooker Club.

Tariq grabbed will. “We need to hide, bro. Stay away from the window.”

“What the hell is going on, Tariq?”

“It’s my dad. He mustn’t see us.”

“Your dad. Why, what’s up with him?”

Tariq and Will squatted. Their eyeline was level with the bottom of the window. This drew stares from the barista and other patrons. To reassure them, Tariq laughed and said: “I’m hiding from my dad. I didn’t wash the dishes as I promised.” This convinced nobody and they looked away from them shaking their heads disapprovingly.

“The youth of today, they are a waste of space,” one patron muttered under his breath.

“What aren’t you telling me, Tariq?” Will said as quietly as possible.

“I don’t know mate, I really don’t, but something’s not right. My dad was pushing for me to meet you and I couldn’t figure out why. Then, after I agreed to meet you at the Snooker Hall, I overheard him on the phone and he was talking about you, the fact we were going to be meeting at the Snooker Hall and talking about guaranteeing my safety. I was freaked out, which is why I asked you to meet me here. There’s nothing wrong with my arm. I’m just a bit shook up by it. I said to come here so we could scope out the Snooker Club.”

Will reflected for a moment and looked at Tariq. “I know what it’s about, but I don’t know where your dad fits in.” At that moment, Tariq and Will’s attention was drawn to two vehicles, one car and one van pulling up outside the Snooker Club. As two men got out of each vehicle, Tanveer got out of his vehicle and confronted them. A short exchange took place and all five men entered the Club. Tariq and Will looked at each other. Both were bemused, neither said a word.

Apart from a smattering of lights hovering above the rows of illuminated green baize cloth covered tables, the room was pitch black. Tobacco smoke filled the air. Stephen Hendry and Steve Davis wannabes eyed up their next pot with cues in hand. Snooker tables didn’t look this big on television, Tanveer thought. What did his son find enjoyable about this game? Where was his son?

“Tariq isn’t here,” Tanveer said.

One of the men asked the owner if they’d been in. He responded he knew Will and Tariq, but hadn’t seen them today. All five men left the club. As they did so, one of the men nodded to the others. Tanveer was set upon, punched repeatedly, placed in a headlock, and dragged to the van.

Tariq got up in an apparent attempt to leave the coffee shop to help his dad, but Will stopped him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ve got to help him.”

“You aren’t going to help him by getting kidnapped as well. We need a plan.”

The car and van started to pull away, leaving Tanveer’s vehicle behind. “I’ve got it. I’ve got the spare key to his car. I’ve been driving it without him knowing sometimes. I did it to impress the girls at college because they laughed at my Fiesta.”

Reluctantly, Will agreed. They left the coffee shop, got into Tanveer’s car and began pursuing the car and van from a distance, with Tariq in the driver’s seat and Will in the passenger seat.

“In the coffee shop you said you knew what all this was about?” Tariq said.

“My dad’s been doing some weird science experiments for years. It turns out he attracted the attention of some dodgy people not long before he died, but I don’t know where your dad would fit in. We had this guy John come to our house and then me and my sister met with this woman who knew John, and then the police turned up. It’s been crazy, Tariq.”

“No way, bro, I didn’t know your dad was a scientist. But wait a minute, my dad is a scientist too, you know.”

“What? I didn’t know that.”

“This John you were talking about. What does he look like?”

Will gave Tariq a detailed description of him.

“That sounds a lot like my dad’s manager. This is crazy, bro.”

The black leather two-seater sofa was ripped in no fewer than three places. It had at least four cigarette burns. How many people had sat on this sofa confronting their deepest fears and staving off monotony as Sarah was now? Sarah moved one of the cushions and could see some paper poking through the sofa seat. It was a five-pound note. Sarah pocketed it and smiled to herself that she’d found it and not Will. She’d use it for petrol money for ‘Joanna’, if she ever saw ‘Joanna’ again.

Sarah knocked on Will’s bedroom door and called his name a couple of times. “I’ve found a fiver down the side of the sofa,” Sarah said. Receiving no response, she entered and saw that he’d gone.

In a panic, Sarah immediately called Clare Stevens who was at the Paterson household. “Clare, my brother has gone.”

“Gone, gone where? Have you tried calling him?”

“No, not yet.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call him now,” Stevens said.

The pursuit continued as Will’s phone rang.

“Who is that?” Tariq said.

“It’s the police.”

“Don’t answer it.”

“I’ve got to. Hi Clare.”

“Don’t you ‘hi Clare’ me. What the hell do you think you’re playing at? Your sister is scared witless. Where are you?”

“We’re in a pursuit. Someone has kidnapped Tariq’s dad. I think it’s all connected in some way.”

“A pursuit? Who the hell is Tariq and who is his dad?” Lyle heard the conversation and sent a message on his phone, unbeknownst to Stevens.

“Look, I’ve got to go, Clare. I’ll update you as soon as I can.”

“Problem, Sarge?” Lyle said.

“Isn’t it always?” Stevens said before calling Sarah back to try and allay her fears.

“Your brother’s ok, I think. He’s with Tariq, if you know him. You stay where you are and I’ll update you as soon as I can.” Sarah bit her fingernails and seethed with anger at her brother’s recklessness.

Stevens and Lyle continued to search the Paterson home. Herbert then arrived at the property. Surprised by her arrival, Stevens asked Herbert why she had attended the address.

“All I can say is sorry, Sarge,” Herbert said. Lyle then approached Stevens from behind and tasered her, causing her to fall to the ground in a heap.

“Now what are we going to do with her?” Herbert said, as DCS Johnson arrived.

“Let’s ask the guv,” Lyle said.

As Stevens writhed in pain, Johnson walked in. “What are we going to do with you, Clare? Always like a dog with a bone, you just can’t let go,” Johnson said.

Stevens looked up to see Johnson hovering over her with Herbert and Lyle watching on unsympathetically.

“W-w-w-hat is going on, sir?” Stevens said.

“Clare, I’m so sorry that I have to do this.” He retrieved a gun from his pocket and ordered Herbert and Lyle to wait outside. Both did as they were instructed.

“You’re one of, if not the, best detectives I’ve ever trained, Clare. I trained you too well, if anything. It breaks my heart to have to do this, it really does, Clare.”

“SIR, WHAT IS GOING ON? WHY ARE YOU GOING TO SHOOT ME? I’VE LOOKED UP TO YOU MY WHOLE CAREER. I NEVER HAD YOU DOWN FOR BEING CORRUPT. YOU’RE NOT A KILLER, I DON’T BELIEVE IT.”

“I wasn’t, Clare, but since Sharon divorced me, I’ve been really struggling for cash. I’ve got serious debts, and needs must, I’m afraid.”

“What about Herbert and Lyle? Where do they fit in? There’s always been rumours about them?”

“They both joined the police on behalf of organised criminals. I only found that out since I–”

“Became corrupt. You disgust me, Paul. You don’t deserve to be called sir.” Outside the address, Herbert and Lyle heard a single gunshot.