The Last Resort(6)

‘Never mind that now, Tigs.’ Giles raises an arm and everyone turns to see what he’s pointing at. A golf cart, like the one in the hangar, is making its way silently down the hill towards them.

‘Well . . .’ Redhead says. ‘Looks like we’ve got company.’





Amelia

The buggy stops in front of them and a man climbs out. He’s dressed from head to toe in white. Trousers smooth, with a crease down the middle, polo shirt neatly tucked in and buttoned to the top. There’s a gold logo on the right, with Timeo in a swirly embossed typeface.

‘Hello!’ He grins at them and his eyes crinkle at the sides. It’s hard to put an age on him. His skin is smooth and tanned. He’s in good shape. Late forties, maybe. He fits the demographic for this type of company, Amelia thinks.

He picks up a white plastic box from the back of the cart and walks towards them.

‘Well, don’t all talk at once,’ he says, still grinning. He heads along the pebble-lined path to the visitor orientation centre. Amelia tries to catch Camera-guy’s eye with a ‘who’s this?’ look, but he doesn’t notice; everyone is watching the newcomer with interest.

He holds his watch up to a sensor at the side of the door, and there’s a small click as the door unlocks and swings open.

He turns round and gestures to the group with one hand, the other still clutching the white box.

‘Come on in, then,’ he says.

They follow him into the building. It was hard to judge from outside, but it’s smaller than she expected. The glass pitched roof gives a feeling of space, but there are no windows. The walls are painted a pale lemon and lined with built-in sofas in the same colour. In the centre of the room there’s a glossy white table, empty except for a pile of white plates and a row of glasses at one end. Underneath the table is what looks like a long, low fridge. As the last person enters, the door swings closed and the room is silent, but for the hum of the fridge and the mild static charge of anticipation in the air.

The American breaks the silence. ‘So, are you going to tell us what’s going on? Are you in charge of this thing? What the heck happened in that plane? Can we get a drink or something?’ His words continue tumbling out on top of each other, his blurted frustration fuelled by the shock of what’s happened so far, the confusion about what they’re all doing here.

It’s clear that none of them is used to being kept in the dark – relinquishing all control. The American’s outburst has triggered that little niggle in her again. The NDA. The secrecy . . . and whatever it was that happened on the plane, it’s not exactly normal to have them all panic like that. If the aim was to unsettle them, then they’ve succeeded. Amelia wonders if it’s too late to back out. Ask to return to the plane. To her real life, where none of this stuff matters. Does she really care about this so-called luxury retreat? Not that there’s been anything luxurious about it yet. A fleeting thought crosses her mind. She remembers a festival that was supposed to happen in America – something with proper, no-expense-spared luxury – except it was all a sham. Or a scam – the organiser had gone to prison for fraud, hadn’t he? Hopefully this isn’t what’s happening here.

The American is still gabbling on, the anxiety clear in his voice. The man in white raises a hand, silencing him. ‘All in good time, my friend.’ He nods towards Tiggy. ‘I think you were after a drink too, is that right?’

She wrinkles her nose. ‘Yes. But how did you . . . ?’

He grins again and points to the fridge, ignoring her question. ‘Maybe you’d like to hand out some water? Then we’ll get started.’

She looks disappointed for a moment, then opens the fridge and sees the rows of designer mineral water, smiles as she hands one to each of them. ‘This stuff has purified charcoal crystals in it,’ she whispers as she hands a bottle to Amelia. ‘It’s a complete mind-and-body cleanser.’

Amelia smiles back, thinking of the filthy water she’s had to boil up and purify with iodine, and wonders if this stuff is going to change her life, or just hydrate her like any other water. The consumerist world is bad enough at the best of times, but it seems even worse when you’ve lived in the places that she has. The places where people die because they don’t have essential medicines. In Tiggy’s world, people get stressed when the composition of their mineral water isn’t to their liking, and excited by the prospect of an energy boost from purified charcoal. What a lot of nonsense.

Perhaps it was a mistake to come here. Her mind keeps flitting back and forth. It’s not like her to do something so frivolous, and she’s finding it hard to adjust. It’s never been money that’s attracted her to her job.

Low-level chatter has started now that everyone has had a drink and they’re feeling more refreshed.

The man in white clears his throat. ‘OK, guys. Let’s get down to business.’ He waves his watch across the side of the white box and there’s a click as the top pops open. ‘Right,’ he says, taking a small device that looks like a Bluetooth headset out of the box. ‘Who’s first?’ He holds it up for them to see, and Amelia notices a thin metal prong protruding from the back of the piece that hooks over your ear. She’s about to ask about it when Giles stands up.

‘Me?’ He places his empty water bottle on the table.