Chapters (45)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Prologue
- 2046
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- About the Author
‘Shit,’ Safa mutters. The first capsule comes into view. Broken from the main spoke and lying away from the huge wheel that was once the London Eye. Capsules litter the ground everywhere. Some still attached to the spokes. Bricks, rusted steel girders, slabs of concrete everywhere. No grass though. No weeds sprouting through the gaps. A complete lack of any greenery. The edge of the river comes into view. The filthy brown water flows past sunken objects as the drone banks left. Westminster Bridge lies with the middle section submerged in the river. Chunks of buildings poke up through the surface of the water. The drone rises further still as the ruined Houses of Parliament come on to the screen. The iconic clock face of Big Ben lying amongst the masonry and spires. Everything broken. Everything ruined, filthy, dirty and lifeless.
Ben’s heart hammers in his chest. Safa’s mouth goes dry. Harry just watches the screen, any emotion hidden, but his eyes are sharp with understanding. Roland watches them. Seeing the same thing as when he showed the footage to Malcolm and Konrad and no doubt a mirror of his face when he first saw it.
London ruined. The capital gone. Iconic landmarks fallen and broken. No life anywhere. The whole of the vista looks barren. Not a blade of grass on the ground or a bird in the sky.
‘We don’t know how this happens,’ Roland says softly. ‘But we know it will happen. Which is why we need you. We need you to find out how this happens and stop it. I can’t make you help me . . . I can only hope you will do so because you see the gravity of the situation. Other than the inventor, there is myself, Malcolm, Konrad and now you three that know of this. Just us . . .’
Safa flicks her eyes from the screen to Roland. Harry does the same. Impassive and centred without a flicker of panic or worry on either of their faces.
‘If we help,’ Safa says slowly. ‘Can we go back?’
‘Miss Patel,’ Roland says, conveying a deep sadness. ‘We can never go back. We have to . . .’ He stops, flicking his eyes left and right, trying to find the right words. ‘Detach ourselves from the lives we had . . . those lives are not ours.’
‘Ours?’ Ben asks.
‘Yes, ours. I was extracted too, Mr Ryder. In fact, I was the first extraction.’
Twelve
Twelve
‘Berlin. Germany,’ she says, looking over the table. Years of training show in the absolute lack of reaction on her impassive face. ‘Private clinic. Dozen operatives taken in. Six dead. Six injured. That’s the start point.’
‘Understood,’ he says. ‘Team?’
‘You plus four,’ she says.