But today, they had taken a sudden extra interest in her. They’d subjected her to these strange and intense conditions, then interrogated her with hardly a moment’s pause. Hours and hours, with more and more questions – all about Jimmy. Surely this meant they had found her out.
“We need to know, Eva,” Ark Stanton said firmly.
“Erm…” Eva squirmed and fought back the tears. Any second she knew she would break down and confess everything. She could picture herself doing it and a huge part of her longed to give in.
“Make your best guess,” Dr Amar insisted. “Is it a, b, c or d?”
Eva was genuinely trying to work out the answer, but could hardly remember the question. Her thoughts were continually invaded by memories of her friends. She missed them all even more than she missed her own family. The feeling was so strong it made her feel sick. She peered into the light, shielding her eyes with her hand.
“I’m sorry about the extreme conditions, my dear,” the psychologist added. “They are necessary so that we can scrutinise your physical responses as well as your verbal ones. We need a thorough psychological profile of the target.”
“The target?” Eva repeated instinctively. She did her best to hide her distress, but how could she conceal anything under this much scrutiny? The light burned into her forehead. The designer’s pen tapped against his clipboard, and each tap pounded through Eva’s head. They know, she thought. They know I’m a traitor. Admit it and they won’t kill you.
Her breathing was rapid. Each breath felt like sandpaper in her throat. A tear dripped through the sweat on her face. She opened her mouth, about to spill everything, but suddenly… blackness.
Stanton had switched off the spotlight. Eva’s eyes took several seconds to adjust to the normal light of the room.
“I think we’ve got as much out of you as we can for today,” Stanton muttered. “You’ve done well. Thanks, kid.” Eva couldn’t speak. She choked back a scream and looked around her, dazed.
“We can carry on tomorrow,” Stanton continued. “Thanks, doctor.” He signalled to the psychologist and the graphic designer. Both nodded, gathered their notes, and left. On his way out, Dr Amar took the film from a camera that had been trained on Eva the whole time. Then she was alone with Ark Stanton.
“That was tough, wasn’t it?” he started, his soft voice coming like an embrace to Eva’s ears. “Your intelligence is vital, you know. Dr Higgins would have had all the answers, but he’s gone. Miss Bennett knew Jimmy well as his form teacher, but that’s old data now. You are the last person to have spent time with Jimmy. The last person on our side anyway. You can tell us how he thinks, how he acts and how far his capabilities have developed.”
“Maybe it would help if I knew what all this was for,” Eva suggested. If she knew what was going on, she might be able to help Jimmy.
Stanton thought for a second, then nodded. “Let me show you what we’re going to use it for. You deserve it. You’ve worked hard.”
He dashed out of the room and came back cradling a cat in his arms. Its fur was black and ragged, sticking out from a tough, wiry frame.
“Say hello to Miles,” Stanton announced, shaking the cat’s paw in Eva’s direction. “This used to belong to Dr Higgins. He left it here when he deserted.”
Eva was so confused she didn’t know what do with herself. Seconds before, she thought she was going to be exposed as a double agent – now she was being introduced to the staff pets. She could feel her knees quivering and had to consciously try to relax them.
“This isn’t an ordinary cat though,” Stanton explained, placing the animal carefully on the floor. He pulled his chair up behind his desk and tapped a few keys on his computer. His eyes were still on the screen as he spoke. “When Dr Higgins and his team were designing the organically programmed assassins, they needed a prototype.”
“A prototype?” Eva gasped, slowly pulling herself back together.
“To test the technology,” Stanton replied, still focused on the computer. “So they built a cat.”
Eva couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She stared at the creature at her feet. It curled round her ankles and peered up at her, purring.
“This cat is… an organic assassin?” She could hardly contain a laugh. It was as if she’d slipped into a weird dream.
“No,” tutted Stanton. “The cat’s not an assassin. They couldn’t programme that sort of intention into a cat. Miles is just tougher, stronger and faster – plus he’s survived to be about three times the age of any cat that ever lived.”
“A cat with twenty-seven lives,” Eva mumbled, reaching down to stroke it.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing.” She felt its warmth on her hand. “Poor thing.”
“Useful thing, you mean,” Stanton insisted. “Thanks to Miles I can test out my theory about Jimmy Coates.” Then he reached forward and set up what looked like a grey plastic stick on a little stand – an aerial. There was a broad smile on his face as he tapped one final key. He leaned back, a glint in his eye, and whispered, “Watch this.”
Eva didn’t know what he was talking about at first. Stroking the cat was the most relaxing thing she’d done in all the time she’d been at NJ7. She was quite happy to lose herself in that feeling, but suddenly the cat pulled away and hissed. Eva jumped and drew her hand back sharply. For a second, she was terrified that the cat was going to attack her. But it didn’t.
Instead, the creature lurched sideways as if an invisible train had hit it – then slammed against the concrete wall. Eva let out a yelp of disgust. The cat slid down to the floor. But that wasn’t the end of it. Eva could only watch as Miles shook off the pain, crawled a few metres, then hurled itself against the wall once more. This time it crashed head first and a smear of cat blood followed it to the floor.
“Stop that!” Eva screamed. “He’s gone mad! He’s going to kill himself!”
“Ha! Don’t worry,” Stanton laughed. “He’s tough. It would take hours of this to kill him.”
“Stop it!” Eva cried again, her hands over her face. “Stop it now!” Her whole body was trembling at the horror of it. She staggered forwards to grab hold of the cat, but it hissed at her with murder in its eyes, then dived at the concrete again.
“Enough!” Eva yelled, her words barely audible through her tears.
At last, Stanton tapped the space bar. “Looks like Miles was receiving my signal all right,” he chuckled.
Eva felt she never wanted to open her eyes again, but she couldn’t stop herself watching the cat. Its self-destructive passion had gone. It was reeling about as if it was drunk, and licked its paws to start slicking back its fur. Then it limped out of the room.
“You’re going to do that to Jimmy?” Eva panted. The blood on the wall burned into her eyes. It was the only colour in a room full of grey.
“No, no,” Stanton replied. “He might be a kid, but he’s smarter than that cat. Jimmy will destroy himself in a much more sophisticated way. I’m designing the signal now.”
Terror seized Eva’s body. She had guessed what Ark Stanton was going to say next.
“And Eva,” he declared, “I couldn’t do it without you.”
Viggo