‘MJ,’ Karczewski continued. ‘Just put the gun down on the floor and walk away. It’s the only thing you need to do.’
‘And if I return to the facility, what if it happens again? What if I kill more innocent people?’
‘But you won’t.’
‘You can’tknowthat because you’re not real. You are one part of my brain that’s communicating with the other. Now that I know who I was and what I’ve become, how can I take the risk of ever being her again? I do believe that you wanted the best for me, but by hiding me, you allowed the monster inside me to return. You allowed it to kill again, only this time, you were a victim too. And I’m truly sorry for that. But I think this is the end of the road for me. If I lost myself again, I don’t know that I could ever come back.’
In one swift manoeuvre, Emilia placed the gun’s muzzle to the slight lump at the crown of her head, pointed it in a downward motion and pulled the trigger.
She was dead before she hit the ground.
Chapter 87
FLICK, ALDEBURGH, SUFFOLK
‘No!’ yelled Flick, and from her position behind the pew, her body recoiled at the sound of gunfire and the split second of muzzle flash. Then Emilia fell from view.
Flick clasped her stomach tighter, as if to shield her unborn baby from the horrors of its mother’s world. Then she waited, half expecting Dr Porter, or MJ, or Emilia or whoever she’d thought she was, to rise from the dead and come for her next. But nothing happened. She moved slowly towards her and only when she saw a pool of blood around MJ’s head and shoulders, did she know for certain that she was dead.
The gripping feeling in Flick’s back and stomach was becoming more persistent but though it still didn’t hurt, it was affecting her ability to remain on her feet.
The thunderous sound of Aldeburgh’s fireworks display reached its climax, with a crescendo rainbow of colours turning night into day. Only when it stopped and she heard Elijah gasping for breath did she remember what had brought her to that old church. She hurried to her feet and ran to him, yanking the gag from his mouth.
‘Elijah,’ she said, the word breathy and brimming with desperation. She placed her ear next to his mouth – shallow, near-silent breaths could just about be heard. She sensedhe didn’t have long left. Flick returned to the aisle where she’d dropped the knife and used it to hack at the ropes binding his legs, wrists and neck to the crucifix. He fell towards her as she tried to support his weight, the two of them tumbling to the floor in a heap of limbs.
‘Elijah,’ she repeated, her voice now reduced to a tremble. ‘Please talk to me?’
There was still no response. She carried out a fingertip search of his body until she located the bloody bullet wound in his thigh. If it had penetrated the femoral artery, he would already be bleeding to death unless she was quick. She unhooked his belt and tied it tightly around his thigh as a temporary tourniquet. All she wanted was to look after him, to make up for the anguish she had caused.
‘Please, hang on,’ she continued and patted his pockets, searching for a phone. He wasn’t carrying one.
She scanned the gloom of the church for a landline but didn’t know where to begin. However, she recalled Aldeburgh’s only remaining public telephone box from one of her many walks as she committed the town to memory. It was only two streets away. Flick ran as fast as her legs could carry her, clutching her stomach and stumbling as she hurried through the lashing rain. And after dialling the emergency services and anonymously warning the operator of an injured man and dead woman in the church of St Paul, she hung up and returned to the building.
Flick hesitated as she gripped the large metal rings to open the doors. She knew that as much as she wanted it, she couldn’t be with Elijah when the ambulance and police arrived. There was too much explaining to be done. If, as she hoped, this was all over, the best thing she could do for everyone was to disappear back into the night as quietly as she had come. She made her way to the far corner of the churchyard, using a full-height gravestone to hide behind.
‘Come on, come on, come on,’ she muttered impatiently, wringing her hands as she awaited the ambulance. If there had been any doubt before, now she understood why Karczewski had warned against forming emotional attachments. All who came into contact with her were dead or injured. She desperately wanted to be with Elijah in that church, comforting him and telling him how much she loved him. But happy-ever-afters were not written for people like Flick.
She thought about Dr Porter. Their paths had not crossed and by the time Flick was enrolled into the programme, she was just a name in a file, stored inside her head. The deaths of the first four Minders had been hushed up, lessons had been learned, techniques tweaked and alterations made so that her actions could never be replicated. The data suggested that Dr Porter had been killed, but now it was clear she hadn’t been. The world was so full of lies that even the data she stored in her brain couldn’t be trusted.
Despite the cruelty inflicted by Dr Porter on the other Minders and Grace, there was a side of Flick that pitied her. She had witnessed the confusion and turmoil in her face as she debated and argued with a person who was not present. Flick listened helplessly as she had quarrelled with herself, her subconscious and repressed memories doing battle with her present to reveal the truth. If it meant Dr Porter had been acting alone, then there was no longer a threat to Flick’s safety.
Finally, a first responder’s vehicle arrived, blue and red lights flashing, followed moments later by an ambulance, then two marked police vehicles. Another stabbing pain in her stomach caused her to fall to her knees. And when she slipped her hand inside her underwear and saw her fingertips were red, she feared the worst. It was all she could do to stop herself from asking for help to treat her miscarriage. Instead, she waited until Elijah was carried out on a gurneyflanked by paramedics, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. Only then did she quietly disappear in the car she’d arrived in hours earlier.
Once again, Flick was back on the road, potentially the last Minder standing from both programmes.
THREE YEARS LATER
** CONFIDENTIAL **
TOP SECRET: UK EYES ONLY, CLASSIFIED ‘A’
THIS DOCUMENT IS THE PROPERTY OF HIS MAJESTY’S GOVERNMENT
MINUTES OF JOINT CYBER-ESPIONAGE / INTELLIGENCE COMMITTEE ASSESSMENT MEETING 11.7
‘THE ALTERNATIVE APPROACH TO STORAGE OF CLASSIFIED DOCUMENTS’
** Please note this is an account of the minutes taken from the above meeting. Portions of text and certain participants have been redacted to prevent threats to security. **
