The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,12

booted foot as if to stamp on Syed’s head. ‘Can I shut this clown up?’

‘He’ll be quiet enough in a minute,’ said Albion amiably as he opened the larger case. Inside was a piece of equipment resembling a laptop computer, but with a much bulkier base. He raised the screen. The machine came to life, fans whining as the display lit up. Diagnostic tests flashed on it, replaced after several seconds by a simple statement: PERSONA READY.

Albion took something from a pocket in the case’s lid: a skullcap, a mesh of thick black nylon dotted with dozens of coin-sized grey electrodes. Wires ran from each one, joining up at the cap’s back to form a thick umbilicus.

Syed stared at it. ‘What is this? What are you doing?’ He tried in vain to break free. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just stay calm,’ said Albion as he pulled the cap down over Syed’s skull. The terrorist resisted, but one of the men forced his head up so the doctor could tug it into place. A strap was fastened under his chin and secured tightly with Velcro. Albion fussed with the electrodes, nudging them into alignment, then took a second skullcap from the case.

This one he placed on Adam. It took him longer to secure it, positioning the electrodes with more care. Finally he opened the smaller case. He took out a jet injector, a glass vial containing a colourless liquid already loaded, and gently pushed the blunt stainless-steel nozzle against Adam’s neck. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes.’

Albion’s finger tightened on the trigger. There was a sharp phut, then he withdrew the injector, leaving a faint pink mark.

Adam flinched at the sharp pain as the drug was blasted through the pores of his skin. But the brief discomfort that had briefly registered on his face quickly faded . . .

Followed by all other expression, leaving him blank as a mask. His eyes defocused. Albion watched him closely, every few seconds glancing at the sweeping hand of his watch.

Even with his head restrained, Syed observed what was happening with a mix of fascination and fear. ‘What are you doing to him?’ he said, with more trepidation than before. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

Albion ignored him, still counting off time. Thirty seconds. He held a hand above Adam’s face, waving his fingers from side to side. Adam blinked, eyes tracking the movement.

Albion leaned closer. ‘Adam, can you hear me?’

‘Yes, I hear you.’

‘I’m going to do a memory check. I want you to tell me . . . the name of Giorgi Toradze’s best friend when he was a child.’

For a moment there was no reaction, then a slight frown creased Adam’s brow. ‘I . . . I don’t remember.’ His accent was now a neutral American, all traces of the Georgian’s inflection gone.

‘What about the name of the first girl Toradze fell in love with?’

Another frown. ‘I don’t remember.’

Albion gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Okay, that’s good. Toradze’s persona has been wiped. I’ll give Syed the Hyperthymexine.’

The terrorist thrashed and screamed, but could not get free, his captors pushing down with painful force. Albion took out a second jet injector, this one with a red stripe around its body. He inserted a vial of a faintly amber liquid and turned a dial marked in millilitres to a particular number.

‘What is that?’ Syed shrieked, staring at it in horror. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just relax,’ said Albion, bringing the injector to the terrorist’s neck. The Pakistani tried to twist away, but had nowhere to go. ‘You’re going to have a brainstorm.’

He pulled the trigger.

Syed screamed, face contorting as if he had been burned – then the sound faded to a gurgle in his throat as every muscle in his body tensed, tendons straining under his skin.

Albion tapped a key on the black-cased machine. The words on the display changed. ACTIVE: PERSONA TRANSFER IN PROGRESS. Columns of rapidly changing numbers scrolled up a window on one side of the screen. An oval object appeared beside it; a stylised graphic of a human brain, seen from above. It shimmered, each pixel subtly shifting in hue.

The changes suddenly became anything but subtle.

Syed’s eyes went wide, pupils constricting and flicking from side to side with unnatural speed. Adam also reacted, fingers clenching. His eyes began to flicker just like Syed’s – as if in time to their movements.

Albion watched the screen. The graphic was now flaring, swathes of colour sweeping across it. The scrolling numbers moved ever faster, barely legible, but