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Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. CONTACTS
  3. Dedication
  4. PART ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. PART TWO
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. PART THREE
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. EPILOGUE
  42. AUTHOR NOTE
  43. Keep Reading …
  44. About the Author
  45. Also by Mark Watson
  46. About the Publisher

His heart rate – after the cold-water spike of the phone screen – dropped gradually over the next minute, then the minute after that. It had been a mistake to look at it at all; it had gone against everything he told himself he’d do; but it didn’t matter. He was still on track. You couldn’t stop a train. It would get where it was going.

He had absolutely no responsibility to engage with any of the messages, or even engage with the idea of their existence. The flight mode was back on, the screen door was pulled back across. In fact it was more secure even than that. The phone was effectively locked in a safe. As long as he didn’t weaken again, which he would not. People could send as many messages as they liked, but they would not get to talk to James. They were just talking to themselves.

At the thought that they were gone – all of them – James felt his stomach tighten, and a sort of tingling or fizzing in his limbs. It made him change his position, rolling onto his side; it was a strange feeling. But it wasn’t fear, and it was shadier and tricksier than excitement. It was a chemical response, a sort of heightened aliveness, like the bristling of nerve-endings before lightning strikes.

PART THREE

THE MISSION

17

EVERYWHERE, 03:15

One night in the pub, Karl had remarked that – if it had come only a few years later – the internet start-up could actually have worked, could have made all of them very rich indeed instead of ending with their boss fleeing the country never to return. Could have been life-changing. If it had just happened a little later. ‘I mean, yeah, trying to sell instead of give it away was a mistake,’ he said. ‘He didn’t realize the future would be about giving stuff away and then selling secretly, selling information, whatever. But the actual ideas. Making a network of people, instant-messaging them. Having computers guess what you want and find it for you.’ Karl swigged from his pint. His friends leaned in, nodding, humming approval. He stood, spoke, gesticulated like a textbook man-leading-pub-conversation – his listeners could have been arranged around him that way on purpose, like extras in a beer advert – and it was only James who knew that Karl was actually having a hard time. Working a series of wretched, unrewarding jobs to keep his mum afloat; forever looking over his shoulder for his father, who drifted spectrally back into the picture whenever they thought he was gone.