The Passengers(24)

‘How … how are you?’

‘I’m good … well, I was until you appeared on the screen.’

‘You two know each other?’ said Jack. His surprise quickly turned accusatory. ‘I told you she had something to do with this. I want her removed and held until the police—’

‘Now, now, Jack,’ the Hacker interrupted. ‘Calm yourself and let them continue.’

‘Why didn’t you mention you knew him?’ asked Muriel. She sounded as suspicious of Libby as Jack.

‘I couldn’t be sure until I heard his voice. We only met once, a few months ago at a bar in Manchester.’

‘Do you know how hard I tried to find you after that night?’ Jude asked.

Libby’s heart fluttered. ‘I tried to find you too,’ she replied. ‘The music was too loud to hear your name so it’s been like trying to find a needle in a haystack.’

Jude appeared about to reply when the Hacker interrupted. ‘There will be an opportunity for you sweethearts to catch up later. But time waits for no man and certainly not for you, Jack.’

Jack redirected his eyes up towards the speakers.

‘You can spend the rest of the morning playing I spy and searching for where in the room I’ve placed my beady little eyes, or I can draw your attention towards car number eight.’

The largest of the screens switched from a shot of the jurors to the most elderly of Passengers. He sported a head of thick, white hair, milky blue eyes and wore a relaxed expression. Colourful medals were pinned above his jacket pocket. The inside trim of his vehicle was plastic and contravision advertisements were spread across the windows, suggesting he was inside a taxi. He spotted himself on the dashboard monitor and cleared his throat.

‘Hello?’ he asked.

‘Good morning, sir,’ began the Hacker. ‘Can you tell us who you are?’

He sat up straight, leaned forwards and stared directly into the lens. ‘My name is Victor Patterson,’ he said slowly and a little louder than necessary. ‘That’s P.A.T.T.E.R.S.O.N.’

‘Can you tell us a little about yourself, Mr. Patterson?’ said the Hacker.

‘I’m seventy-five years old and a retired printer. I have three children and seven grandchildren. Who are you? Did my daughter give the car the wrong address?’

‘I see by your medals that you’ve served in the armed forces?’

‘Oh yes,’ Victor replied proudly. ‘29 Commando Regiment Royal Artillery in The Falklands War then two tours of duty in Afghanistan before the landmine got me.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Can you tell me what happened?’

‘What do you think happens when a landmine gets you, son?’ he chuckled. ‘It blew my bloody arm and leg off.’ He tapped his right knee with his right hand and both made hollow thumps. ‘But there’s no use in complaining, is there? You just get on with it. And I enjoyed a good twenty years driving the buses before they got rid of us all.’

‘Who got rid of you all?’

‘The council did when they brought in the driverless ones. There was no need for the likes of me, was there?’

‘And where are you going today, Mr Patterson?’

‘Well, this taxi picked me up and was supposed to be taking me to a hospital appointment. And then I started hearing all these voices telling me about a car crash that hasn’t happened yet. So I’m a bit confused.’

‘What are you attending hospital for, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘Radiotherapy, son. I have prostate cancer. The doctors tell me the treatment will give me another eight to ten years. That’ll be enough.’

Victor reminded Libby of her late grandfather, a man she had rarely seen without a smile on his face until the death of her brother. Soon after, he too had died. She could still remember him like he’d disappeared from her life only yesterday. It was the same for everyone she had loved and lost; it was as if she remembered the dead better than those they left behind. She pulled at the ring on her finger, this time revealing a tattoo underneath. ‘Nicky’ it read in a five-point font. She had a larger one across her left collarbone written in a bigger font, and the words ‘Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.’

Suddenly, the camera left Victor’s face and switched to one outside the taxi, which appeared to be following his car along a busy city centre street.

‘Jack,’ said the Hacker calmly, ‘do you remember earlier when I told you that for every one of your actions, there will be a reaction from me? Well, when I ask you not to do something, such as touch my cameras, it is best that you listen.’

Without warning, Victor’s car suddenly exploded into a giant fireball, with huge plumes of black smoke and bright orange flames shooting high up into the morning sky.





Chapter 17





SOFIA BRADBURY


‘I’m quite impressed by the special effects,’ Sofia whispered to her dog Oscar. ‘It looks like they’ve invested some money into this show.’

She watched on her monitor with interest as Victor’s car ‘exploded’. She was relieved that one of her competitors in the reality TV programme she assumed she was a part of had exited so swiftly. She rolled her eyes as the other contestants reacted with loud screams and obscenities. ‘They’re a bit over the top, aren’t they?’ Her dog rolled from his side and on to his back, kicking her arm with his paw until she rubbed his belly. ‘I wonder if they still pay the full fee even if you’ve been voted off after half an hour? Doesn’t seem fair if they don’t.’