City of Shadows

Chapter 48

7 October 2001, Washington DC

Faith appraised Agent Cooper. Unlike most humans he appeared to be very task-focused, very driven. One could say binary, almost Boolean, in his mindset. He could almost have passed as one of her short-lived batch of clone brothers and sisters. Except, of course, he wasn’t six foot six inches tall and carrying around eighteen stone of muscle and dense-lattice bone. He was just as frail and vulnerable as any other human being: one of her hands round his neck and a quick twist and he’d be burger meat in a suit. That unfortunate frailty notwithstanding… she’d so far been quite impressed with his performance.

She resumed eating the bowl of Cow amp; Gate baby food.

Cooper in turn was silently appraising her. Perched on the edge of his desk, he grimaced as he watched her spoon the baby food into her mouth. ‘I can’t believe you can chow down that stuff.’

‘It is an optimal formula,’ she replied with her mouth full. ‘Maximum nutrition with a minimum of energy consumed in the process of breaking it down and digesting it.’

She noticed he was looking at her intently. ‘What is it, Agent Cooper?’

‘You’ve, uh… you’ve got a blob of that stuff right there on the end of your nose.’

She remained staring at him — a face that seemed to be wondering why that mattered in any meaningful way.

‘It’s not a good look, Faith.’ He leaned forward, reached out with a finger and deftly flicked it away.

‘ Not a good look,’ she mimicked him. An almost exact copy of his southern Virginian accent. ‘Why?’

‘Why… why? Because you don’t want to look like some sort of day-release outpatient from a nuthouse.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘You’re odd enough without dried baby food plastered all over your face. If you’re going to be working alongside me, we need you to not attract any attention. I’m pretty much exceeding my authority letting you down here as it is.’

Faith finished her food, put down the bowl and carefully wiped round her mouth. ‘I understand.’

Cooper really had stuck his neck out. He’d brought her to The Department a couple of weeks ago. Ushered her past several ID checks, pulling rank on the security personnel. And now here she was down on the mezzanine floor in his domain — the ‘catacombs’ — being kept here like some sort of a pet.

Truth was he didn’t know what to do with her. She couldn’t be left to her own devices roaming around Boston conducting her very own hunt-and-seek mission, murdering who she pleased because she might just consider them ‘a contaminant’ — whatever the heck that was really supposed to mean. And he didn’t want to kill her. She was all he had. She was his only connection to whoever these mysterious time travellers were.

What he had was not very much: an autopsy report on Faith’s dead colleague, and a tiny chunk of fried circuitry pulled from his head that wasn’t anything more now than an interesting fingernail-sized nugget of silicon and graphene.

This creature, this flesh-and-blood robot-woman, was the best piece of evidence he had that he wasn’t going mad; that time travel had been quietly going on right in front of everyone’s nose for God knows how long. For God knows how many decades. Cooper couldn’t even begin to contemplate how valuable the treasure trove of knowledge residing in that digital mind of hers was.

But right now the only investigative process he had on the go was Agent Mallard out there doing the donkey work to track down and confiscate all the CCTV footage that he could lay his hands on. There was the footage from the mall, but also a petrol station, a diner and a motel they’d used the day before. Mallard had already brought back several boxes of tapes, and from those there were some not bad, albeit grainy images of their faces that they’d managed to isolate and enhance.

But that was it. Other than Mallard’s legwork, and hoping for a lead to turn up, he had this unlikely ‘woman’ in front of him.

‘I know I keep saying this,’ he said, breaking the long silence, ‘but if you just shared with me the data you have on them, I could put it to good use. I can get priority access to the Bureau’s IT department. We can tap all sorts of databases… medical insurance, local and state law-enforcement incident reports, bank records, traffic — ’

‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Your assistance in this matter is — ’ she paused, her eyelids flickering as she considered a choice of phrase — ‘ appreciated. However, I am unable to share with you data about the target.’

Perhaps he could try a different angle. ‘Well, what about you, then? Hmmm? Or how about telling me something about where you’ve come from?’

Her cool grey eyes locked on his. ‘You wish to know about the future?’

He shrugged. ‘Yeah, why not?’

She silently considered that for a moment. ‘I am unable to tell you specific details. But I can discuss the early symptoms that are occurring in the world at present.’

‘Symptoms?’ He laughed at that. ‘You make the world sound like it’s a hospital patient.’

She cocked her head slightly. ‘That analogy is suitable. This world is “sick”. It is unsustainable. It is dying.’

‘Dying? What do you mean?’

‘Population tangents increasing versus rapidly diminishing world resources. Even in this time evidence of this, of these future problems, is known to your world leaders. But they choose to do nothing. Oil will run out. Global warming will increase. The polar caps will melt and a third of the world’s land mass will be submerged by rising sea levels. It will become accepted in 2035 — far too late to deploy corrective measures — that global warming was more significantly affected by the explosion in world population than it was by hydrocarbon usage.’

She adjusted the cuffs of her jacket. Her hair was growing in quickly — still boyishly short, though. But now, with a vaguely feminine fringe of dark hair and office clothes Cooper had bought her from JC Penney, she almost looked like your typical Wall Street go-to girl: hard-faced, ambitious and smartly turned out.

‘In only twenty-five years from now there will be nine billion human beings attempting to exist on a diminishing resource-poor land mass. The arithmetic is inevitable, and was always entirely predictable, Cooper. Even now there are scientists that are accurately predicting mankind’s fate.’

‘Which is what?’

She shrugged. ‘You will destroy yourselves.’

He puffed his cheeks. ‘That’s, uh… that’s pretty grim.’

‘It is what will happen.’

‘Jeez, I bet you’re a blast at parties.’

She cocked an eyebrow. ‘I don’t understand the relevance or intended meaning of that comment.’

‘Never mind.’

Just then the door into the main office swung inwards with a bang. Cooper jerked and spilled coffee on to the crisp white cuff of his shirt. He saw Mallard’s face across a chest-high maze of vacant office cubicles.

‘Christ, Mallard! You made me jump!’

‘Sir! Sir!’

‘What the hell is it?’

Mallard picked his way through, past an empty watercooler that hadn’t been used in years, past desks with dust-covered computers that, if someone actually bothered to switch them on, they’d find still ran on Windows 95.

‘Sir,’ he said, breathless, as he finally stood in front of Cooper and Faith. ‘We’ve got a solid lead. Some small-town sheriff reckons he’s ID’ed one of the images we put up on the Bureau’s Most Wanted site.’

‘Where?’

Mallard looked down at a Post-it note in his hand. ‘They’re in Ohio. Someplace called Harcourt. It’s some has-been town. Used to have several auto-parts factories. They’re all closed down now. Mothballed.’

‘Hang on.’ Cooper looked at Faith. ‘That’s what you suggested, wasn’t it? They’d go to ground someplace like that? Quiet. Out of the way…?’

‘With access to a source of electricity and required technical components.’ She nodded and almost smiled. ‘It is what I would do.’