The Medusa Project: Double-Cross Page 11

The five of us raced over to the staff door. We needn’t have worried about the security guard; he was transfixed by the papers still swirling in the air.

  I focused on the lock. A swift flick of my hand and the security bar sprang open.

  Dylan and Cal raced through the door. Ed and Ketty stopped. Our plan was for them to wait in the lobby for us to return, ready to send a warning telepathically if need be.

  As I passed Ketty, we looked into each other’s eyes. I wanted to say something . . . to put our earlier row behind us . . . but I had no idea what. Anyway, there was no time.

  ‘Go,’ she whispered.

  And, with a final twist of my hand to release all the papers still soaring about the bank lobby, I followed Cal and Dylan through the door. It shut behind me with a snap.

  We were in a long corridor. Doors led off on either side, but from the plans we’d seen earlier, the vault with the safety deposit box we were looking for was right at the end.

  We flew along the carpet, round a corner to the left. I spotted another security camera up ahead. This one turned easily when I focused on it.

  We ran, silently, past an open office. Neither of the workers inside the small room noticed us. Seconds later we reached a sturdy locked door. I opened it using telekinesis. No problem. Behind it stood the vault. The opening was arched and made from metal. It was a harder lock for me to get past, but I was confident I could do it.

  I stood facing the vault, both arms outstretched, visualising how it would look from the inside. I’d learned some time back that you don’t need to be able to see the lock in precise detail in order to open it . . . but you do have to see it as a whole.

  Seconds ticked by. Dylan paced backwards and forwards, the flick of her red ponytail just in my eyeline.

  ‘What’s holding us up?’ Cal said desperately.

  ‘Shut up,’ I snapped.

  I could hear him muttering to himself. Then Dylan’s whispered drawl. She was presumably telling him that I needed time to get the vault door open.

  I redoubled my efforts. At last the four vault locks released as one and the three of us ran inside the vault. It was a small room, one wall of which was lined with tiny cubicles.

  ‘Look for safety deposit box 1763,’ I reminded the others.

  We raced up and down the lines. My heart thudded. We hadn’t heard from Ed yet – which had to mean the coast was still clear. But every second we spent in here, we were taking a terrible risk.

  ‘Here it is!’ Cal pointed at one of the cubicles. He turned to me expectantly. ‘It’s locked.’

  Another flick of my wrist and the cubicle popped open. Cal drew the handle back. Six boxes were stacked inside. He pulled them out.

  ‘Here,’ he said.

  He handed safety deposit box 1763 to Dylan who set it on the table in the middle of the room. It was made of chrome and about the size of a shoebox.

  I bent over the electronic keyholes and punched in the entry code Ed had mind-read from McMurdo, trying to shut out the hushed tension of the room and the sound of my own frantic heartbeat.

  I took a deep breath. I could feel Dylan beside me, peering anxiously over my shoulder. We were about to get our hands on the film of Geri Paterson’s confession . . . the evidence that would enable us to expose Geri, clear our names and go home.

  I reached down and lifted the lid of the box.

  For a second, there was silence as Dylan and I stared inside, unable to believe what we were seeing.

  And then the room filled with noise as the bank’s security alarm pierced the air.

  16: Inside the Box

  The box was empty apart from a piece of white card. I stared at it, the alarm screaming around me, as the vault door slammed shut.

  ‘No!’ Dylan raced across the room.

  Five words were written in black ink: Better luck next time, Nico!

  My heart plummeted to my shoes. This whole thing had been a trap.

  ‘Nico!’ Dylan yelled. ‘Open the vault door!’

  I looked up, trying to focus on the door. I raised my hands, but I couldn’t concentrate. Blood pounded in my ears. My whole body was shaking.

  The noise of the alarm pierced through my skull. Beside me, Cal was yelling.

  I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath . . . to calm down.

  ‘Come on, Nico!’ Dylan shouted.

  I opened my eyes and, taking a long breath from deep inside my stomach, I gave it everything I had. It worked. The door slid open.

  Dylan, already right beside it, raced outside. Cal and I ran after her. Back down the corridor. Bank personnel were milling about, all talking at the tops of their voices. A security guard – gun in outstretched arm – lunged into the corridor ahead of us.

  ‘Stop!’ he yelled.

  Dylan stopped instantly, flinging her arms wide to protect me and Cal. Her hand gripped my arm and I felt the energy of her force field flow around me, just as it had outside the explosion at Wardingham a few days ago.

  She turned, her eyes wild.

  ‘Run!’ she shrieked.

  The three of us pounded down the corridor.

  ‘Stop or I’ll shoot!’ the guard yelled.

  ‘Keep going!’ Dylan shouted.

  We ran on. I darted sideways, through an open door into an empty storeroom, momentarily losing Dylan’s hand on my arm.

  Behind us the guard fired a shot into the ceiling. I jumped.

  ‘He missed,’ Cal hissed. ‘It’s okay.’

  We raced through the storeroom, into an office. I was leading the way, following the open doors. But I had no idea where I was going . . . or how on earth we were going to get out of this bank.

  Nico . . . where are . . . ? All of a sudden Ed appeared in my head.

  Not now, I thought-spoke.

  Ed vanished.

  And then a man dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, a mask pulled over his face, lurched in front of us. I raised my hands, ready to haul him out of our way, but to my surprise the man stepped back, pointing ahead of him down the corridor.

  I blinked, taking in what he was showing us. A few metres along the wall was a small hole – about the size of a large pet flap. The man pointed again, then raced to the hole. He tugged at a crumbling piece of brick. I bent down. The hole led outside – into daylight.

  ‘Through here,’ he said, his voice muffled by the mask over his mouth.

  Behind us another shot fired. I didn’t hesitate. I scrambled through the hole and stood up. The sun glared in my eyes. I could just make out that we were in a car park.

  I felt a hand on my arm. The man in the mask led me past the cars to a van parked just a couple of metres away.

  ‘In the back,’ he ordered.

  ‘Wait!’ I looked around.

  Dylan and Cal were beside me, looking as alarmed as I felt.

  ‘Who are you?’ I demanded.

  The alarm was still shrieking out of the bank. In the distance we could hear police sirens.

  ‘There’s no time,’ the man said. His voice was still muffled, but I was certain I didn’t know him.

  ‘No.’ I raised my hands.

  Instantly, the man whipped out a small can. He pressed the top and an odourless liquid squirted out. A fine spray coated all three of us, hitting me right in the face.

  I blinked, shocked, then raised my hand to teleport the can away. But as soon as I tried, I knew that my telekinesis had gone. All the psychic power had drained out of me like water out of a leaking bucket.

  My heart raced.

  The man opened the back of the van and jerked his head to indicate we should get inside.

  I glanced at Dylan. From her expression I was guessing that she was experiencing the same block on her abilities that I was.

  The man pocketed his spray can and took out a gun. ‘I’m not asking again.’

  I tried to jerk the gun out of his hand.

  It didn’t work. I had no idea what was happening. But I could see we had no choice.

&n
bsp; I hauled myself into the back of the van. Dylan and Cal followed right after me. I turned as the man slammed the door shut. As soon as we were inside, I tried to open it telekinetically. Nothing happened.

  As the van’s engine roared into life, I turned to Dylan.

  ‘I’ve lost my Medusa power.’

  ‘Me too.’ Her eyes were wide and desperate. ‘I can’t protect myself.’

  The horror of this filled me as the van screeched round a corner. My eyes were getting used to the darkness. The back of the van was completely empty.

  Cal was backed into a corner, his head in his hands. Suddenly I was sure Cal was behind everything that had happened.

  ‘I knew we shouldn’t have told you what we were planning.’ I lunged across the van and hurled myself at him. ‘What have you done?’

  I shoved Cal in the chest. He stumbled backwards.

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ he gasped. ‘This guy’s got me, too. I can’t fly. Why would I do that to myself?’

  ‘He’s right, Nico, think it through,’ said Dylan.

  I staggered backwards, panting for breath. I sat down, bent over my knees, my head in my hands.

  If Cal was telling the truth, then who had taken us?

  Why was the film of Geri’s confession no longer in that safety deposit box?

  And what on earth had happened to our psychic abilities?

  Another ten minutes or so passed. We barely spoke, all three of us in shock. And then the van stopped with a jolt.

  A second later the back door opened. The man, still wearing his mask, beckoned us out. I reached out my hands, trying to move him telekinetically.

  Again, nothing happened.

  I jumped down, feelings of frustration and fear shooting through me.

  The van was parked outside a small detached house. I glanced down the street. A copse of trees opposite, then more houses in the distance. Maybe we could make a run for it.

  ‘Don’t think about it, Nico.’ The man had followed my gaze.

  As I turned towards him, he brandished his gun, then pointed towards a door in the side of the house. I followed Cal and Dylan through, along a short corridor and into a small, stuffy room.

  No furniture. No windows

  The four of us stood in silence for a second.

  ‘Who are you?’ I said.

  The man pulled off his mask.

  He looked straight at me. ‘You know who I am, Nico. You saw me the other day. I just left you a note in my safety deposit box.’

  I stared back at him. He was right. A million questions flooded my head. But before I could ask any of them, the man smiled, his dark brown eyes crinkling as his gaze shifted from me to the others.

  ‘Dylan . . . Cal . . . we haven’t met, but the pleasure is mine,’ he said in a crisp English accent. ‘I’m Rod McMurdo.’

  17: The Deal

  The whitewashed room McMurdo had brought us into was completely bare. Cal and Dylan stood on either side of me.

  ‘What do you want?’ I demanded.

  McMurdo drew the white card with the words Better luck next time, Nico! from out of my pocket.

  ‘I want you to do something for me, Nico,’ he said. ‘That’s why I saved you back at the bank.’

  ‘How did you even know we’d be there?’ I said, glancing suspiciously at Cal.

  ‘After I saw you outside the art gallery earlier I sent a security guard to follow you.’

  ‘He saw you?’ Dylan turned on me accusingly.

  I kept my eyes on McMurdo, who smiled.

  ‘Didn’t Nico mention it?’ he said lightly. ‘Well, anyway, the guard followed you as far as Avery Jones’s car. He saw you all drive off together. There are two others, aren’t there – a boy and a girl?’

  I stared at him. No way was I giving away any information about Ketty or Ed. I glanced sideways at Cal and Dylan. They looked as determined to keep silent as I was.

  ‘Ah, well,’ McMurdo went on. ‘So there you all were with Avery Jones and I started wondering what Avery could possibly want with me after all this time. So I did a little investigation into what’s been going on in England and – to cut a long story short – after an hour or so I realised you must be after my film of Geri Paterson’s confession to murder. Since then, I’ve been keeping a watch on the bank where the film was hidden, taking care to remove it first, of course.’ He smiled again. ‘One thing still mystifies me – how did you know for sure where it was? Did you use your Medusa abilities? I mean, that safety deposit box you got into . . . the number was never written down and I never told anyone. Is one of you a telepath of some kind?’

  I stared at him.

  ‘None of us can read minds,’ Dylan snapped.

  McMurdo shrugged. ‘Well, perhaps one of the others can. Anyway, his work is impressive.’

  I made a small movement with my hands, attempting to teleport McMurdo off the floor. It was no good. My telekinesis was totally gone.

  ‘You’re stopping us using our abilities,’ I said.

  ‘That’s right.’ McMurdo nodded. ‘The spray I used on you contains a chemical called Medutox that prevents the neural pathways linked to your Medusa powers from firing. I’m releasing it into this room, too – you’re breathing it right now. Don’t worry, its effects will wear off once you’re no longer exposed.’

  So that was why I couldn’t move anything with my mind and why Dylan had lost her force field and Cal could no longer fly.

  With a jolt, I realised that it also explained why Ed had not made remote telepathic contact since we’d been shut inside the van. He was probably trying . . . but we were unable to hear him.

  ‘So, if you’ve created some antidote, then you admit Geri Paterson sold you the Medusa gene?’ Dylan said, tight-lipped.

  McMurdo looked at her. ‘Ah, Dylan . . . I’ve often wondered if I would ever meet you. I’ve always felt terrible that the Medusa gene robbed you not just of your beautiful mother, like the others, but your father, too.’

  ‘I don’t care how you feel.’ Dylan crossed her arms. ‘You took the gene code from Geri even though you knew she’d murdered both my parents. You’re no better than she is.’

  ‘Excuse me, but I disagree,’ McMurdo said patiently. ‘Geri gave me the gene code because your dad . . . William Fox . . . was . . . er, a difficult man to deal with and she thought I might be more amenable. She was in a hurry . . . She hadn’t had time to copy the gene code, not that she would have understood any of its references. Geri is not a scientist.’ He paused. ‘She gave me the code because I’d promised to work for her, but when she realised I had no intention of doing so, she wanted the gene code back. Naturally, I refused. I mean, I had Geri’s confession on film – evidence she killed William and Ashley Fox. It was a stalemate, so Geri left.’

  ‘What have you done with the film of her confession?’ Dylan demanded.

  McMurdo jerked his head to indicate the rest of the house. ‘It’s here,’ he said. ‘It’s safe.’ He hesitated. ‘I didn’t know at the time that using the Medusa gene would result in the deaths of the mothers who carried the Medusa babies. I think, looking back, that Geri didn’t tell me deliberately – as a sort of revenge for double-crossing her.’

  ‘So you used the gene on me,’ Cal said furiously. ‘You persuaded my dad to let you experiment on me?’

  ‘Both your parents agreed to give it a try,’ McMurdo said. ‘None of us thought anyone would suffer as a result. I didn’t use it again. Not on a real person. Unlike Avery, I’ve never been interested in the developmental effects of the gene. Only in controlling it.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I said.

  ‘My ambition was never to raise a child who would one day exhibit psychic abilities of some kind. My aim was to harness the ability and make it available to a wider market.’

  ‘You mean like invent a kind of Medusa pill people could take?’ Dylan said.

  ‘Yes, like a drug that temporarily gives you a psychic power.’

  ‘An
d has it worked?’ I held my breath. What McMurdo was describing would be huge if it happened. People could just pop a pill and find themselves able to read minds or see into the future or move objects telekinetically.

  ‘No so far.’ McMurdo sighed. ‘Though I accidentally discovered the Medutox I used on you, that prevents the gene from working.’

  McMurdo left us for a few hours. We kept testing our Medusa powers. They seemed to return briefly a couple of times, then went again. Eventually McMurdo returned. He explained he’d been testing exactly how long it took for the drug he’d sprayed us with to wear off.

  ‘You said you wanted me to do something for you?’ I said.

  ‘That’s right,’ McMurdo said. ‘There’s a man who needs dealing with . . .’

  ‘A man?’ I said.

  ‘My work on the Medusa gene – then developing Medutox – hasn’t been cheap,’ said McMurdo. ‘I have debts.’

  ‘Why is that our problem?’ Dylan snarled.

  ‘I owe this particular man a lot of money,’ McMurdo said.

  ‘So?’ I said. ‘I don’t have any money. None of us do.’

  McMurdo laughed. ‘I’m not expecting you to pay him off.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do?’

  McMurdo fixed me with a serious look. ‘I want you to kill him.’

  There was a stunned silence. He couldn’t be serious.

  ‘You’re genuinely asking me to take somebody’s life?’ I said finally.

  ‘Yes.’ McMurdo nodded. ‘You can take either Cal or Dylan with you to help. The other one stays here as collateral. If you even think about double-crossing me, they’ll die, too.’

  My thoughts raced back to the suspicions I’d had earlier. Was this why McMurdo had recognised me before . . . because he’d been planning on using me all along? What about the DNA test results conversation I’d overheard Avery having on the telephone?

  I stared at McMurdo. ‘Why me?’ I said. ‘When I saw you outside the gallery, you knew who I was and now you want me to go on this mission for you. Why me?’

  ‘Because you’re special, Nico,’ McMurdo said.

  ‘Special?’ I made sure my voice sounded cold and cynical, but inside my guts twisted into a knot. Was McMurdo about to announce that I was his son?