(Jonathan Roper Investigates Boxset Page 43

  Roper was very frightened. His mouth had gone dry, for some reason his bladder was hurting, and his heart was thumping. He had read about people knowing when they were about to die and wondered if this was what it felt like. With blinding speed, the knife moved towards him. He closed his eyes then shouted in pain as the blade entered his body.

  He felt a burning sensation as the knife withdrew. He opened his eyes and saw the weapon had gone into his palm. Blood was pumping out. It hurt but he daren’t shout out again.

  He was panting with the effort to keep his equilibrium but recovered enough to look at his tormentor. The man was disturbingly calm.

  Roper wondered what to do but eventuality his powerful sense of curiosity managed to override the pain and fear. He said. “You’re not David Cotter, are you?”

  To his surprise the man laughed out loud. “That little wimp. No, I’m not him. Although he likes to think he can tell me what to do. The little coward has disappeared. Just as well really; when I get hold of him we are going to have a nice little chat.”

  Anybody else might have found the conversation almost impossible to deal with; especially since the David Cotter look-alike was brandishing a bloodied knife he had just stabbed you with.

  Roper was different, he really wanted to know. “Would you mind telling me who you are? I’ve got a theory but first, if you don’t mind, I need the answers to a couple of questions.”

  The man who said he wasn’t Cotter looked at his knife and then shrugged as if to say, ‘why not.’ He said. “You can call me Mr. Roberts. Now go ahead, ask your questions.”

  His hand was really hurting now but his need to know helped him overcome the pain. He used his mind to screen it away where it couldn’t do so much harm.

  “The murders of Tom Bennett and Harry Jordan. Were you behind that?”

  Roberts grinned, showing a row of brilliant white teeth. “Yes, that was me. Cotter put me up to it, he didn’t have the balls to do it himself so got my help. But he whined like a little girl when I did it my way. He told me I had got it all wrong so I had to warn him.”

  No more was forthcoming so Roper asked. “I’m guessing he didn’t like the fact that you cut their faces off, or sent that video to the police?”

  “You could say that. He went potty about that. But stuff him. I wanted to know what it would be like wearing their faces. I thought it might make me feel like them.” All the time he was talking his expression hadn’t changed, although he now sat down on the edge of the bed. He went on. “It didn’t work though. I still felt like me. But at least I knew what was what.”

  He’d been looking at his knife but now he said. “Your turn again.”

  “I’m interested in how you talked to each other. I mean you’ve never actually met, have you?

  Mr. Roberts gave him an appeasing look. “Sounds like you already know the answer. So why don’t you tell me.” he waved the knife at him.

  “I think you’ve always known what each other is up to. At first, it must have felt like you were leaving messages for each other, but later it got more confusing. Somethings you knew, somethings you didn’t.

  “The problem is that you have never been able to meet up and speak directly. That might have helped, or not. You might not like each other. I’m thinking that things really started going wrong with the murders of Peter Knight and Sandra Hall.”

  Roberts studied him intently. “Cotter likes to make out that you’re not as sharp as people say, but how did you know that?” He leaned forward, letting the sharp blade run gently across Roper’s forehead. It was all he could do not to scream. It wasn’t painful but it was truly terrifying; it made him think of having his face cut off. Once again, he forced the fear down. He had to know the truth: that was the most important thing.

  Roberts was back on his feet. He was losing some of his detachment, swaying on his feet. “I admit that things got odd. I started getting strange memory lapses. After I’d taken the pair of them I couldn’t remember if Cotter had asked me to do it, or it was something I’d done myself. I was so confused that I did not leave myself enough time to take their faces.

  “If I’m honest it gets worse. Sometimes I can’t even remember where I’ve been for a couple of hours. It was a real shock to find you here when I walked into the flat. I didn’t know if I had brought you here, or it was him.”

  He started hitting his head with the palm of his hand, the hard blows making his skin redden.

  “Sometimes I think my mind is going altogether. My memory seems to be in little pieces, none of it is connected and some of it is disappearing, it’s like something is eating away at my brain.”

  The blows were landing harder, Roberts was starting to make himself bleed as the skin around his eyes swelled and burst under the onslaught. He lurched out of sight and Roper heard the front door open and close.

  All was quiet, then the door burst open and a wild-eyed Roberts - he was sure it was Roberts - burst back into the room. “You know what’s going on. You have to tell me.”

  Chapter 53

  It took almost an hour to assemble the hit team but finally they were ready to go. Hooley was waiting outside in the street as the officers prepared to force their way into the flat registered in David Cotter’s name.

  But even before they had got inside doubts were growing. The hit team had deployed a mini-drone to point its cameras inside. There was nothing to be seen. They needed to get inside to be sure but it wasn’t looking hopeful.

  Even so, the Inspector in charge was taking no chances. Hooley’s request to come in with the first wave had been emphatically rebuffed. He would wait out in the street until he was told it was safe.

  He made a furious protest, insisting that if Roper was being held captive he would need to see a friendly face. The Inspector wasn’t having it. “We’d all like to see a friendly face but if you go in there you are just going to get in the way. Best case, that slows us down, worst case, you, or one of my team, gets shot.”

  The DCI had given up at that point; he knew the argument was over and prolonging it just wasted time. Now, over the radio link, he could hear the team calling in that the flat was empty and there were no signs of life. He dashed upstairs, determined to see for himself, but even an eagle-eyed inspection could find nothing. The place was coated in a thick layer of dust, indicating it hadn’t been occupied for a very long time.

  He’d almost made it back to the temporary command centre near Roper’s penthouse when the call came in from GCHQ. Roper’s tracking device had just turned itself on. They would have a location in a few minutes. His car pulled up and he sprinted to the Control van. They had big screens which would be better for displaying the information when it came through.

  Opening the door, he found Mayweather was already in position. She said. “We should have the information any second now.”

  Hooley had one urgent question. “Does this mean he’s still alive?”

  The answer chilled him. “Not necessarily. The device doesn’t need him to be living to turn itself on.”

  He was stood in the door, holding it open so that light flooded in. The space was surprisingly large, allowing two sets of desks on either side with space to walk down the centre.

  An operative stepped forward and held out her hand to encourage him in, pointing at the door as she did so. He noticed the natural light was disturbing everyone and hurriedly pulled the door behind him. He went and stood by Mayweather. Nobody spoke. They just had to wait.

  “Got it.” The voice appeared to float out of the gloom. “I should have full contact in a few seconds.”

  Hooley was grinding his teeth so hard he was surprised no one had complained about the noise. “Come on, come on, come on.” His voice was playing in his head on a continuous loop.

  The technician started talking again, reeling off GPS details which the operative next to Mayweather fed into an online map. Hooley leaned forward and was stunned to see it appeared to be exactly where he had just come from. T
hen he did a double take. It was the Elephant and Castle but a different building. At last some good news. They already had a team in place.

  He was about to dash out when Mayweather held his arm. “Let the team there get on with what they’re good at. You and I can travel together. He’s going to be alright. I can feel it.”

  By the time they turned up at the new address the hit team were almost ready to go in again. The drone had been in action once more and this time they had captured something. The inspector was replaying the film on a lap top.

  “We only had a quick look, I didn’t want to tip anyone off that we’re outside, but there is something. I think we have your man and Cotter, and I’m hoping you can confirm.”

  The picture quality was surprisingly good and suddenly they were looking through a window into a bedroom where the familiar figure of Roper appeared to be tied to a bed. Also in the room was David Cotter.

  Hooley’s sense of relief to find him still alive was immediately squashed when he saw the knife in Cotter’s hand.

  The inspector spoke “Did you notice the blood all over Mr. Roper’s hand? I think he has been stabbed. We are going to be ready to go any minute and we shan’t be hanging around. Your man is clearly in danger. Do I have your permission to use lethal force once we gain access?”

  This last request was directed at Mayweather, who didn’t hesitate “You are authorised to use lethal force.” she replied. Spelling it out for the record.

  Chapter 54

  “Have you ever heard of Professor Roland Penrose? Or maybe Neuromorphic Computing?”

  Roberts shook his head. “What have they got to do with me?”

  “Let me explain,” said Roper. He felt surprisingly calm and alert. “The idea of Neuromorphic Computing has been around for quite a while. More than 30 years, and Professor Penrose was one of the leading figures in the field.

  “The idea is simple, the reality is very complex; maybe it will never happen. But it started out as the thought that you might be able to create computer chips that would mimic functions of the brain. From that there were all sorts of theories.

  “Some people started talking about the ability to create super-soldiers or super-learners. People with neuromorphic chips in their brains who would be able to do things that no one else could. That theory got a flurry of mention in the media, then it went quiet once it was more widely understood how difficult that is to do.

  “There has been progress on creating neuromorphic computer systems, but these are highly specialised and only available in the most advanced institutions or companies on the cutting edge of Artificial Intelligence. But no one has yet worked out how to make the most of these advances so they remain a sort of fantasy.”

  The burst of talking had tired him out and he shut his eyes for a moment as he gathered his thoughts for the next bit. Sitting in front of his own screen this had seemed very easy, but out here it was proving harder to pin down. When he opened his eyes again he was surprised to see Roberts holding a glass of water. He raised his head to accept the offer, gulping down water while half of it ran down his chin.

  “Thanks for that. I was thirsty.” He swallowed and carried on. “The problem of trying to link people to computer chips is that chips are very hard and brains are very soft. So, they’re not the most compatible material. But things changed a few years ago.

  “A new material was developed that could, in theory, be implanted in a brain. Body heat would then allow it to gently firm up and start working. This is still a very complex field and Professor Penrose was one of the leaders in it. He was also working on a much easier way of implanting the chips that did away with the need for major surgery.”

  “You keep mentioning this guy and saying he ‘was’; I take it he died? If so, what on earth has that got to do with me?” While Roper couldn’t read it, he was looking anxious, as though dormant thoughts were coming to life.

  “Professor Penrose did die, two-years-ago. There was an explosion and a fire at his lab in London and all his research was reported missing. But there was one lucky survivor, David Cotter, who in fact had a cast iron alibi because he was being interviewed for a post at GCHQ. He told the interviewing panel that the work with Professor Penrose was getting nowhere and he wanted a change.”

  “Go on,” said Roberts. His voice low and wary.

  “I think David Cotter caused the fire and stole the advanced work. I believe Penrose had a new chip ready to implant and this is what Cotter got his hands on. I think he wanted to turn himself into a super being with an extraordinarily high IQ and strength, but he wanted to keep it secret so that’s why he sabotaged the lab, killing Professor Penrose in the process.

  “Moving to GCHQ was a key part of his plan. It gave him access to military secrets and diplomatic intelligence, things he could exploit by selling to the highest bidder. There are plenty of people out there who pay top dollar to get an advantage over their rivals.

  “From the moment he inserted the new chip he gave himself a huge increase in brain power - the trouble is he also created you at the same time. Not that he realised. You and he are one and the same. I suppose you are like a modern Jekyll and Hyde. Something about the chip went wrong and made two personalities.

  “I think that may have something to do with him implanting the chip in the wrong place. Our knowledge of the mind may be growing, but there is a long way to go. I suspect that in reality, having two personalities is just too much for the mind to process, and that is probably why you started to develop memory problems. The two of you fighting for the same space just succeed in erasing small bits of each other.”

  Roberts made a growling noise, like an enraged dog. “Are you saying that I’m some sort of freak? Who else knows this?”

  “I wouldn’t say freak, but no one else knows all the details. But it won’t take them long to find out though.”

  Roberts stood up. “Well let’s slow that process down a little bit by getting rid of you. He raised the knife, his face becoming a mask of menace. At that moment, there was an ear-splitting bang and a dazzling light. The room seemed to shake from the incredible noises.

  Totally blinded, Roper missed Roberts spinning round and falling as masked men ran in and shot him. The effects of the flash-bang grenade detonated by the rescuers had rendered him helpless.

  He was still suffering deafness, and temporary blindness, as he was cut free and rushed straight out of the flat and down the stairs to the next floor where a make-shift field hospital had been set up. Hooley and Mayweather looked on anxiously as Roper was laid out on a stretcher.

  A doctor swiftly checked him and pronounced him in reasonable condition. “We can fix the wound in his hand but it will be a little while longer before his hearing and sight return. Some people are more sensitive to that than others. What we need now is to get him into hospital so that we can do a full job on him.”

  Mayweather thanked him. “You go with him Brian. He’s used to you turning up when he’s had a bit of a going over so we might as well keep things in the normal routine.”

  She watched him being stretchered into the lift and wiped at her eyes. “How come it has to be Jonathan who ends up on the wrong side of a beating, every time?”

  Hooley said. “I’ve come to the conclusion that where trouble is concerned he’s like a magnet. There’s no other way to describe it. I’ll call you from the hospital. I’m rather hoping that Cotter survived. I’d quite like to know what was going on in there.”

  Chapter 55

  Forty-eight hours later.

  After two days on a drip and some antibiotics, Roper had been cleared to leave the hospital. He had declined pain killers, telling the doctor he would use mental control against the pain. The consultant had shrugged and warned him to expect some lingering after effects.

  He told Hooley and Mayweather. “For anyone else, the dose of LSD he received might have been fatal. Not your man. Mr. Roper has a unique strategy where he just ignores any side-effects. And do you
know what? It seems to work brilliantly. I’m happy for him to go home.”

  The police officers had smiled and nodded, entirely unsurprised to learn Roper was defying conventional medical wisdom.

  Also present was Helen Sharples. She gave Roper a wry smile. “You must talk me through this technique of yours. I can see it being very useful to lots of other people. I suppose you could call it a sort of placebo effect - do nothing and get better.”

  Roper, who was lying in bed in a private room at Guy’s Hospital, levered himself up on his pillows and went to reply. She held up a hand. “Just one more thing. While you’re explaining to me how that works; you can also explain how you managed to get hold of my email details and trick some poor young chap in security to handing over top-secret technology? Some people might call that espionage.”

  Roper looked so crest-fallen she felt sorry for him. “Actually, don’t worry about the espionage bit. The view is that since we almost got you murdered, then the least we can do is overlook a small problem of miscommunication.”

  Mayweather gave her a quizzical look. Sharples picked up on the expression. She glanced around and closed the door.

  “I got a head’s up on part of the ‘official’ response last night. The feeling is that not only did we let Mr. Roper down, but it was a good job he took things into his own hands and sorted it out. Otherwise who knows what would have happened. I gather there is going to be some sort of briefing at Downing Street later today.”

  Mayweather nodded. She had received her invitation to the ‘top-secret’ briefing just that morning. She said. “What about Cotter or Mr. Roberts? What’s happening there?”