'Will Mommy be back when I wake up?' Jack asked sleepily.

'I bet she will be, don't you worry, son,' lied Vernon, gunning the engine and roaring away down the dark quiet country lane.

By the time he found himself on the motorway that led to the airport, Vernon had made up his mind. I'm outta here, he thought. I've done my bit. Now all I got to do is get my boy home again.

He would call the police once he was safely on the plane and no-one could stop him from taking Jack out of the UK. Then, a matter of hours later, they would be far away from Kate and the chaos she surrounded herself with. When they were together he had had always found her straight-laced and kind of boring, if he was honest with himself. And now she was involved with rogue scientists and their henchmen and who knew what else. If only she'd been so interesting when they were together he might never have needed to go to Shirl to get his kicks. Not that there was any going back. He had surprised himself that he'd felt no jealousy when he'd met Paul. He actually liked the guy. Good luck to him. As long as he didn't plan on playing step-daddy to Jack.

He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping son on the back seat.

Why had they made Jack visit 'a sick lady'? What the h.e.l.l were the people who had s.n.a.t.c.hed his son up to?

Oh, Jack's just fine, Vernon thought, trying to convince himself. He just needs to be taken out of this screwed up country and its wacko populace. If he gets a cold, or whatever the h.e.l.l this is all about, he'd get Shirley to take Jack down to the Medical Centre in Boston tomorrow afternoon once they were home. One more day wouldn't make any difference, would it?

CHAPTER 44.

Gaunt led Kate back out into the harshly-lit corridor, gripping her wrist hard, breathing his foul halitosis into her hair and face.

Sampson unlocked the door of the room across the corridor, and dragged out a protesting Paul, bending his arm up behind his back to incapacitate him. 'Move it, Wilson, you've got a meeting to go to.'

Paul glanced at Kate, glad she seemed to be unharmed, apart from the fear etched on her face.

The awkward procession halted outside another heavy door, this one with a gla.s.s porthole cut into it. Gaunt poked several of the keys on an alpha-numeric keypad beside the door. A light turned from red to green, and he pushed the door which opened into a large subterranean laboratory, illuminated by long strip lights.

As they shuffled inside, Paul glanced again at Kate's face. Her eyes were gla.s.sy with stress. She looked like she wouldn't mind right now if someone put a gun to her head, just so she wouldn't have to worry any more. He knew that the only thing keeping her going, stopping her from curling up into a ball, was the hope that burned inside her, the hope that she would somehow be able to save her son.

'I love you,' he mouthed, but Kate was in no fit state to respond, or even acknowledge the declaration. She felt as if she was inside the sort of bad dream which just goes on and on, silently unfolding and trans.m.u.ting from one nightmare scenario to another.

A very thin, hunched, bald old man in a white coat was seated at the far end of the room, his back to them, tapping away on a keyboard.

'Who's this?' Kate said in a tired voice. 'Another member of the Gaunt family?'

At the sound of Kate's voice, the old man on the computer turned his head slowly, like a tortoise.

Gaunt laughed. 'Oh no. He's not a member of my family.'

Looking thoroughly pleased with himself, Gaunt gestured to the thin bald man, who was now advancing towards them, an expression of fear and confusion on his deathly white face.

Sampson closed the lab door behind them, released Paul, and leaned back against the wall, his arms folded, as if he was waiting for a show to begin.

It was Paul who realized first.

'Holy s.h.i.t,' he muttered, grabbing on to the edge of a workbench for support. 'Holy f.u.c.king s.h.i.t. No...'

Something in the tone of his voice snapped Kate back to reality, back to an acceptance of the full, terrible reality of the situation.

She looked at the ghostly man still advancing like a zombie, and half-gasped, half-sobbed: 'Stephen?'

It was undoubtedly her former lover. He looked like he'd spent the last decade and a half in the grave, and that Gaunt, like some real-life necromancer, had brought him back from the dead, built his very own Frankenstein's monster. But it was definitely him.

Stephen had been alive all these years.

He was motionless, gripping the nearest bench with weak fingers. Kate looked at Paul, who was staring at his brother, a c.o.c.ktail of emotions on his face: shock, pity, horror. It was impossible to believe they were twins. Stephen appeared twice as old as Paul. He had burn marks down one side of his face and on his hands, long-healed scars from the night of the fire.

Without thinking, she stepped towards Stephen, her arms outstretched, wanting to hold him, to fling her arms around him just as she'd fantasised about doing so many times, in dreams and daydreams, all those times she had found herself caught in a reverie in which Stephen was alive. But in all those dreams, he hadn't looked like this. He'd been the same beautiful young man she'd known in the summer of 1990.

She tried to hug him and he made a squeaking noise and cowered away.

'Stephen,' she said, in the voice she used when Jack was upset, 'It's me, Kate. Don't you remember?'

He wouldn't look at her. Couldn't look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on the laboratory floor.

Paul stepped forward. 'What about me, Stephen? Do you remember me? It's Paul. Remember, Stevie? Remember me?'

Stephen looked up, his eyes bloodshot and watery. Kate wanted to know what he was thinking: what was going on inside that head? His eyes spoke of terrible confusion, of pain and incomprehension. But there was something else there, when he looked at Paul. A sign of the old Stephen. Maybe in Paul he could see the man he should have been. Maybe it gave him strength.

But when Paul moved towards him and tried to touch him, he backed away like a dog that has spent its whole life being beaten. Tears filled Paul's eyes. 'Oh Stevie,' he said quietly. 'What have they done to you?'

Kate turned to Gaunt, who couldn't stop grinning.

'Such a beautiful reunion,' Gaunt sneered. 'Brothers and lovers brought together again.'

'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' Kate said.

Gaunt raised his hands. 'Now, now. I thought you'd be pleased. Here I am, making your wishes come true, and you're so ungrateful.' He shook his head in a fake demonstration of disappointment. 'You thought Sampson had left Stephen to die in the lab after he'd started the fire. And he very nearly did die. When the fire fighters brought him out of the building, he was burned and unconscious from inhaling so much smoke. But he was still alive.'

Kate remembered it so clearly: seeing them carry Stephen out of the CRU. She had rushed to reach him but Gaunt had stopped her. That was when he had injected her and knocked her out. And when she woke up they told her Stephen was dead.

'We rushed him to hospital. I mean, you really ought to be grateful because we actually did save his life.'

'Which hospital?' Kate asked. 'The same place as me?'

'That's right.'

'You mean, all the time I was there, Stephen was there too?'

'Just down the hall.'

'But why?' Paul asked. His eyes had been fixed on his brother, but now he stared at Gaunt. 'Why did you pretend he was dead?'

'Isn't it obvious? I knew I'd need help to continue my work, and I saw the ideal opportunity. Stephen was bright, a good scientist. Frankly, his talents were wasted at the CRU. I knew that because of his...ethics, he wouldn't willingly join me. So I made everyone believe he had perished in the fire. I sent Sampson out to find a homeless person, who he set on fire, and presented that body as Stephen's.'

'There's somebody else in Stephen's grave? Some other poor soul you murdered?'

'Yes, some...homeless person.'

Kate shook her head. 'My G.o.d.'

'And you brought him here?' Paul said. 'Kept him prisoner, like a slave.'

Gaunt shrugged. 'Well, not a slave exactly.' He paused. 'Oh, okay, yes. Like a slave. But he enjoys his work here. Don't you, Stephen?'

Stephen didn't react, just continued staring blankly into s.p.a.ce.

Gaunt raised his voice. 'Don't you?' he said harshly.

Stephen flinched and nodded. 'I like it.' His voice was sandpaper rough, weakened by years of little use. But underneath, Kate recognised the soft, gentle voice of her old lover. Her first lover.

'Has he ever been allowed out? Has he has he seen the sun? Been allowed any sort of life at all?' She hated talking about him as if he wasn't there, but she knew that if she asked Stephen directly he wouldn't be able to answer.

Gaunt didn't smile. 'His life is down here.'

Kate heard someone sniff, and turned to see that Paul was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared at his twin. 'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' he said to Gaunt. 'You f.u.c.king inhumane b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'

For a moment, Kate thought Paul was going to try to attack Gaunt again. Sampson sensed it too, and stepped in front of his boss, a human shield. Not that she would describe Sampson as 'human'. But Paul didn't move towards Gaunt instead, he grabbed hold of Stephen and although his twin tried to shrink away again, he held on to him, forcing him into an embrace.

'I'm so sorry.' Paul's voice was m.u.f.fled, his face pressed against Stephen's shoulder. 'I should have been a better brother to you. I should have...' He couldn't get the words out. 'But we're going to get you out of here, and things will be different. We'll make you better.'

'Ah, it's so touching,' Gaunt sneered. 'But you really shouldn't feel pity for your brother. He's done great work. If it wasn't for his brilliance brilliance that lay untapped until I helped him discover it the Pandora Virus would still be a dream. Stephen Wilson has an important role in history. When the world-'

Kate gritted her teeth and prepared to listen to Gaunt launch into another of his megalomaniacal speeches. But he was drowned out, as a siren suddenly started to scream, the noise piercing through everything, and bouncing off the white walls and low ceilings of the room which had been Stephen's entire world for so many years.

CHAPTER 45.

The wail of the siren threw Kate back in time to the night of the fire. She remembered it all so clearly now how desperate she had been, even in her fever, to find Stephen. That time, she hadn't found him, had been tricked into believing he had perished in the flames. But now he was here, and though he might be a sick shadow of the man she had loved all those years ago, she still wanted to save him.

Except there was no fire this time, and she wished there was. A fire to destroy this place, to cleanse the earth of the viruses that were stored here, to wipe Gaunt and Sampson and all their evil from the planet. To set her free to find Jack.

Gaunt turned to Sampson, and for the first time since she had met him he appeared worried. 'Go and find out what's going on,' he commanded.

Sampson went to push the door open, then stopped. 'I need the card.'

Gaunt had designed the system to make it as difficult as possible to get in and out of the lab because he didn't want anyone else getting in, and he didn't want Stephen getting out. His prisoner wasn't allowed to roam the building at will. Like a caged pet, he could only come out when his master allowed him. So to get into the room you had to know the code on the keypad; and to get out you either had to get someone else to punch in the code, or use the card that Gaunt always carried with him.

Gaunt handed Sampson the keycard. Sampson pushed it into the slot beside the door, turning the LED light from red to green, and left the lab. Kate watched him through the gla.s.s, walking calmly towards the stairway that led back up to the house.

That was when they heard the first bangs, like firecrackers above the shriek of the siren. Gunshots.

Paul said, 'Sounds like you've got visitors.'

Outside the room, the Asian scientist who they had encountered on their way into the cellar appeared and exchanged a few words with Sampson. He looked terrified.

'What the h.e.l.l's going on?' Gaunt said. He walked over to the door and pushed it, then swore. Of course, he couldn't get out because Sampson had taken the keycard with him.

Stephen cowered in the corner, behind the lab bench. Kate went to comfort him, to put her arms around him, but he backed away. Feeling unable to grab him in the way Paul had, she let her arms fall limply by her sides.

'Stephen, it's okay. It's not a fire. And we're going to get you out of here.'

Gaunt sneered. 'Don't give him false hope.' But his eyes betrayed him. He was scared.

Sampson came jogging towards the room and let himself back in, using the code that Gaunt had entrusted him with earlier that day, just in case he needed it.

'The police are here.'

'What?' Gaunt's face lost whatever colour it had previously had.

Paul grinned. 'It's all over, Gaunt. You'd better let us go.'

'Shut up.' He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'It doesn't matter anyway. Pandora is already out there. Your son is doing my work now.'

All the hope that had filled Kate in the previous minutes left her like air whooshing out of a balloon. Gaunt was right: even if the police came down here now and killed Gaunt and all his cronies, Jack still carried a time bomb inside him.

She felt Stephen staring at her, but when she turned to look at him he cast his eyes downwards, staring into his own private void.

Sampson said, 'I need to go and help.'

He let himself out of the lab again and ran up the corridor, pulling out his gun on the way. He disappeared up the stairs and they heard more gunshots. Kate clasped her hands together and prayed beneath her breath for Sampson to be on the receiving end of a fatal bullet.

Sampson took the stairs two at a time, two heartbeats to every step, gripping the handle of his gun, his finger ready on the trigger. His head was filled with a rushing, pounding roar that dulled the screech of the siren.

This was what it felt like to be alive.

All his life, he'd felt nothing for anyone. Not for his mother or his father. Not for any of the other kids at school (apart from a low-level contempt); not for the people he'd tortured or murdered or maimed. He felt nothing at all for Gaunt, but did what he told him to do because he paid him and because, well, because he couldn't think of anything better to do. He had been working for Gaunt for so long now. Though he had a feeling it would end tonight.

During this long night, something weird had happened to him. If he had stopped to think about it, he might have realised that it had been coming for a while. Since Kate had returned to England. Because it was all about her.

It was her that made him feel alive.

In the car earlier, driving her and Wilson to this place, alien thoughts had crept into his head. He had imagined himself pushing Wilson out of the car, leaving him behind, and ignoring Gaunt's instructions, driving on with Kate; just driving, the two of them heading into the darkness. Together. She would sit beside him in the pa.s.senger seat. She would put her hand on his thigh. And she would smile at him, the smile making him feel...good.

Downstairs in the lab, he had felt it too. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. The scent of her fear intoxicated him. He wanted to lie down with her on the hard floor and feel the heat of her body against his. He wanted to hear her say his name. No sigh his name. Gaunt and the Wilson twins would fade away, evaporating into nothingness, and it would just be him and Kate. For one insane moment he had even imagined himself rescuing her son, because he knew it would make her happy. In the moments after he emerged from this reverie, he felt sick. What was wrong with him?

He reached the top of the stairs and paused, panting. He felt unfit, cigarettes burning in his lungs. But even that felt good, made him feel alive. Beyond the door he could hear shouting, more gunshots.

He pushed the door open and threw himself through it, immediately going into a crouching position behind a leather sofa. Behind him, cowering in the corner, was the Asian scientist. Beside the doorway ahead of him, one of the security guards was pressed against the wall, his gun arm raised. The police were outside, one of them speaking through a megaphone, appealing for them to put down their weapons and come outside.

The security guard looked at Sampson, his eyes wild with panic, seeking instructions. Sampson gestured for him to go out and fight, and as the security guard stepped into the doorway he was felled by a police marksman's bullet.