The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,117

with Trenton and Cope pinning him, he struggled, trying to strike the back of his skull against the floor to break the electrodes. Tony took hold of his coat collar to pull him up. ‘This bloody thing,’ Bianca complained, repositioning the cap. ‘Why couldn’t Kiddrick have just designed it as a hat?’

‘I’ll put that on the requirements list if he builds a Mark Two,’ said Tony with a wry smile.

She secured the Velcro strap, then took the Neutharsine from the case and turned to Adam, who was sitting facing al-Rais. ‘Are you ready?’ He nodded. ‘Okay. Hold still . . .’ While the drug did its work, wiping the memories and personality of Eugene Browning from Adam’s mind, she put the other skullcap in place on him. Seeing all expression drain from his face at such close range was even more unsettling than before.

Baxter came back in to watch as the final preparations for the transfer were made, taking distinct pleasure in pinning al-Rais down with a foot on his chest as Bianca gave the terrorist his injection. That done, she activated the PERSONA. The transfer and recording process started. Minutes passed as the machine processed the vast amount of data flowing through it.

Finally it stopped. Bianca checked the readings, then powered it down. Unfastening the skullcap, she asked Adam: ‘Can you hear me?’

Adam’s eyes slowly opened. For a moment they were unfocused – then they locked on to her with a malevolent, hawk-like sharpness. ‘Yes, I hear you,’ he said quietly. His accent was now several time zones removed from that of a West Coast scientist. His gaze flicked past her to al-Rais. His startled reaction reminded Bianca of someone who had glanced in a mirror to discover something unexpected stuck to his face. ‘Wait, I am—’ He looked back at her, anger briefly burning in his eyes before he brought himself back under control. ‘Bianca?’

‘Are you all right?’ she asked, concerned. She had never seen him so intense following a transfer.

‘Yes, but . . . it’s different, somehow. Al-Rais’s persona, it’s . . . stronger than anything before.’

Tony crouched beside him. ‘Like it’s fighting with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You can beat it. Take it from me, I know.’ He put a reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder. ‘I had the same thing with Najjar. These guys aren’t mooks – they’re leaders, they’re strong-willed, they have to be. But you’re stronger. Trust me.’

‘I’m stronger,’ Adam repeated. ‘I can beat him.’ He clapped one hand over Tony’s, then looked back at Bianca. ‘I don’t think we need a cheat sheet to know that the transfer was successful.’

‘I guess not,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘I’ll be fine.’ He stood, Bianca and Tony helping him up. ‘I’ll just . . . need a minute.’

‘We’ll get al-Rais on to the plane,’ said Tony.

‘What about the Mnemexal?’ Bianca asked.

‘It doesn’t matter if he remembers what we did now that we’ve got him.’ He faced the two men holding the dazed terrorist. ‘You two, with me.’

‘You’re seriously going to commandeer that Ruskie boatplane out there?’ said Baxter incredulously. ‘Why don’t we just use the snowcat?’

‘I want to get out of here as quick as we can. Rossovich speaks Russian – get him to make that pilot fly us back to Provideniya airport. Bring him to the plane when you’re done.’

‘What about the other prisoner?’

‘We’re taking him too,’ Adam said firmly. Baxter looked to Tony, who nodded. With a disgruntled shrug, the ex-Marine went into the other room. Cope and Trenton picked up al-Rais and dragged him out of the building after Tony.

Bianca watched them go, then looked back at Adam. His fingertips were pressed to his temples, eyes closed. ‘Are you okay? Does it hurt?’

He opened his eyes. ‘No, it’s not like a headache. But it’s . . .’ A deep breath. ‘Not pleasant.’

‘None of this is,’ she said, starting to pack away the equipment. She pulled the memory module out of the recorder and regarded it ruefully. ‘After what happened to Tony with Najjar, now they want to do the same to you with al-Rais. It’s mad.’

Adam glanced towards the doorway through which Baxter had gone, checking that nobody was listening. ‘Holly Jo, I’m going off-comms,’ he said, pressing his finger behind his ear to deactivate the link before lowering his voice. ‘To be honest, I’m worried. This isn’t just finding out someone’s guilty secret about an affair. Al-Rais controls a terrorist group that’s killed thousands of people. It’ll take a lot more than a