Chapter 88

88

Anthony

The two vehicles parked side by side in Anthony’s garage had not been used in weeks. Anthony had barely left the house. There had been no more project meetings in London, no unauthorized visits to Freedom for All gatherings nor runs to clear his head.

But, today, there was somewhere Anthony needed to be. His estrangement from Jada and Matthew was coming to an end once their flight from Orlando landed later that afternoon. And nothing was going to stop him from greeting them as the doors to arrivals opened. The idea of it flooded him with joy until he caught his reflection in the car’s wing mirror. He turned away before he could completely take in this shadow of his former self. God only knew what Jada would think when she saw his hollow cheeks, red eyes and flashes of cobweb greys that seemed to have appeared in his hair overnight.

As the gullwing door to his vehicle opened, he climbed inside, pushing the ignition button in the centre of the steering wheel. A red battery sign illuminated on the dashboard warning that it had run out of charge. He cursed himself for forgetting to switch on the charging pads embedded in the garage floor. Anthony entered Jada’s vehicle instead, a more modern autonomous car than his own. Vehicles like this came without steering wheels or an option for manual driver control, which always made him nervous. He’d not forgotten the terrorist attack on British vehicles years earlier in which hundreds were taken over remotely. But there was too much to be done today to await a taxi.

Anthony dictated the airport’s address into the satnav, and then removed a scrap of paper from his pocket containing a second address, which he also read aloud. An animated map appeared on his screen as he slipped his hand into his jacket and wrapped his fingers around an object to reassure himself it was still in his charge.

His head felt simultaneously alert yet foggy as the car made its way through the streets of New Northampton. Weeks of working twenty-hour days on two separate projects – one for Hyde and the other for himself – was culminating in his near exhaustion. He had pushed himself harder and further than he ever had before and would ever do again. Today he was running on caffeine and adrenaline.

But the light at the end of the tunnel was finally in sight. As long as Jada was on board with the next part of his plan, they’d be driving through France by nightfall. Switzerland would follow before they caught a flight from Milan to Saint Lucia. The profit made from the forthcoming sale of the house would be deposited straight into an offshore and near-undetectable Seychelles account his brother-in-law had opened. It would offer them breathing space before they’d need to seek employment again.

Anthony relaxed into his seat and allowed himself to daydream of years to come spent on balmy beaches, with endless pale-blue skies above them, silver shimmering oceans as far as the eye can see and as little technology as he could get away with using. And, as the autonomous car drove itself, his eyelids began to droop as he envisaged a new family dynamic, one in which he was a key player and no longer a spectator. He was going to prove to Jada and Matthew that he was worthy of them.

And he would also leave behind him the memory of Jem Jones. To move forward, he had to forget about her. Only now could he admit to himself that he had loved her, despite the absurdity of it. He’d built her up into something she wasn’t and never could be. Too much time had been wasted obsessing over a person who never loved him back.

‘Good afternoon, Anthony.’

‘Fuck!’ he yelled as he jumped, his eyes saucer wide. How long had he been asleep? The voice was so crystal clear he turned quickly to see if it was coming from behind him. The rear seats were empty.

‘Did I wake you up?’ it came again. It was Hyde’s voice coming through the speakers. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he continued, but Anthony knew that he did. ‘How are you?’

‘Okay, thank you,’ he replied coolly, trying to mask his unease.

‘I thought it might be a convenient time for a catch-up as we haven’t spoken properly for some time. Not since our misunderstanding.’

‘It’s not a good time.’

‘Why? What has you so preoccupied?’

‘I’m picking up my family from the airport.’

‘Ah yes, a little bird told me they were returning today. But isn’t that later this afternoon?’

Anthony didn’t reply.

‘So where are you travelling to now that requires your undivided attention?’

‘Errands. Food shopping . . . and things like that.’

‘Hmm . . . I wonder . . . does meeting with Howie Cosby from Freedom for All fall under the “things like that” category?’

Anthony’s chest tightened. He knows, thought Anthony. Jada’s satnav had given away the address he and Cosby were to meet at. And if Hyde had access to his vehicle’s operating system, he was also likely reading the signals his watch was transmitting to the central console indicating his rising blood pressure and stress levels. There was little point in denying his destination.

‘My part in your project is over,’ he said. ‘I delivered everything last night ahead of schedule so I no longer work for you. You agreed to that. I’ve held up my side of the bargain so now I’m free to meet whoever I want to meet.’

‘I am justifiably concerned if you’re affiliating yourself with an organization in direct conflict with Government policy.’

‘I have no intention of telling anyone anything I shouldn’t,’ Anthony said. ‘I’ve signed enough non-disclosure agreements and official secrets acts to know I’ll spend years locked up and away from my family if I do.’

‘Then tell me about the digital memory stick in your pocket.’

Anthony froze. How could Hyde know that?

‘The vehicles of all employees and their families are fitted with scanners for prohibited electronic devices and gadgets,’ Hyde continued. ‘As per your contract, you are not permitted anything resembling that stick in your possession for any purpose, business or pleasure. Since we’ve been enjoying our catch-up, your car has downloaded everything on that contraband hardware and sent it to us. One can only assume you were planning to share this with your new-found ally Mr Cosby?’

Anthony’s heart pounded so rapidly that a ‘danger to health’ warning appeared on the console.

‘Why haven’t you had me arrested then?’ he asked.

‘I prefer a more direct approach. And, to be honest, I’ve been side-tracked with more pressing matters. You might like to take a look at your screen.’

Footage began to play of Jada and Matthew inside Orlando International Airport as they arrived at an airline check-in desk. Audio recorded them being informed the flight before theirs was delayed but it contained empty seats and, if they wanted to catch it, they’d receive free First-Class upgrades. A grateful Jada agreed.

Before Anthony could ask Hyde what was happening, he was then shown clips of his family disembarking nine hours later in London and making their way through customs channels. Finally, and as they were about to exit with their luggage, border force staff and armed uniformed police officers ushered them into a side room where their suitcases were searched. Jada’s contained a handful of canisters that, when opened, revealed dozens of transparent bags of pills.

‘Some contain amphetamines, others were stuffed with opiates and the rest Oxycodone,’ Hyde explained before Anthony had the opportunity to ask. ‘Total street value, approximately a hundred and twenty thousand. And you know how seriously our Government takes the smuggling of prescription medication, much more so than street drugs. Prison sentences are mandatory.’

‘No!’ yelled Anthony. ‘This is bullshit. Why are you doing this to them? Where are they now?’

‘Well, your wife is still being interviewed by police. But I’m afraid poor Matthew didn’t react well to being separated from his mother. He was clearly agitated, so, for his own safety, he was taken to the psychiatric ward of a private medical facility where he’s currently being monitored.’

The next image to appear on-screen was that of Matthew lying on a bed in a room, alone. His eyes were shut and arms and legs secured with restraints attached to the metal sidings.

‘My son . . .’ choked Anthony.

‘I know, tragic, isn’t it? Apparently, the only way to calm him down was to sedate him. Ironic, considering your dislike of medicating children.’

‘Henry, you don’t need to do this,’ Anthony begged. ‘Let them go and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll stay on this project or any other one for as long as you want me.’

‘But that’s the problem, I don’t want you. Not any more.’

‘No, it’s not too late . . .’

‘You like to think of yourself as a history buff, don’t you, Anthony? Do you know much about the Soviet Union in the nineteen-thirties?’

‘Henry . . .’

‘Apparently during Stalin’s purges, it wasn’t just traitors who were arrested, but their families too. It was commonplace for them to be convicted and executed on the flimsiest of evidence. They paid the ultimate price for the wrongdoings of their loved ones. We should be grateful that we don’t live in such unfair times.’

‘Please, don’t hurt them. They don’t deserve this.’ Anthony couldn’t take his eyes off Matthew. He would do anything to free him. ‘Just take the memory stick. Have me arrested; I don’t care how long I get.’

‘The stick is now inconsequential. It’s already been remotely erased.’

‘Then why are you doing this?’

He paused between each word. ‘Because. I. Can.’

Matthew’s image faded and a map reappeared, with an alternate destination to the one Anthony had programmed. He looked from the windscreen, only now realizing he was no longer travelling along New Northampton’s roads but the M1 motorway. He pressed the cancel route icon but the map remained unchanged. He jabbed at the rest of the screen and then at the ignition button but the car failed to respond. Instead, it accelerated. It was no longer under his control. As a last resort he yanked at the handles but they wouldn’t open. And the standard toughened safety glass of the windows was impervious to his fists and feet.

‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked as his car both overtook and undertook other vehicles with frightening proximity. Both hands clutched the side of his seat as he willed the car to slow down.

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Hyde replied calmly.

‘You’ve taken over my car so you must be sending me somewhere?’

Anthony glanced at the speedometer. It was approaching the 110mph mark. Other autonomous vehicles were moving their occupants swiftly into different lanes to avoid an accident.

‘Henry!’ he shouted.

‘You’re a traitor, Anthony,’ Hyde said. If Anthony didn’t know him better, he might have sensed a touch of melancholy in his tone. ‘To yourself, to your family, to your country and, most importantly, to me. For fifteen years I had your best interests at heart. I was more of a parent to you than your absent father or insane mother ever were. I told myself your crisis of confidence was a blip, an error in judgement, that you’d see sense in the end. And I gave you a second chance, which is not something I make a habit of doing. But I was wrong and you let me down. And I take that very personally. So now it’s Matthew and Jada who will pay for your mistakes.’

‘We can work this out!’ he yelled but Hyde didn’t reply. Anthony repeated his name over and over again, only to be greeted by silence. He was alone.

Thoughts raced through his head of his mother’s short life, how much of his own life he had wasted, the time he should have spent with his family and how, given another opportunity, he would change so much. He could picture so clearly the palm tree-lined beaches of Saint Lucia he’d left behind a lifetime ago and how tantalizingly close they were to being within his grasp.

Instead, Anthony was helpless as the car swerved from the fourth lane into the third, then the second and the first. And, in a flash, he knew where the car was taking him and what Hyde had planned.

Within view was the spot where his mother had finally given in to her psychosis and ended her life. As Anthony’s vehicle ploughed through a crash barrier, his seatbelt remotely ejected.

The next handful of seconds passed too quickly for him to process. He didn’t feel pain as the car collided with the bridge and began to crumple, he felt nothing when he was hurled head-first through the windscreen with a burst of glass confetti. He didn’t feel his shoulder blades and vertebrae shatter as they hit the bonnet. And there was no pain when his head took the brunt of the concrete pillar. By the time his body came to rest on the grass verge, he was already dead.