The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,39

It’s the protein inhibitor I mentioned.’ He returned with a jet injector, carefully loading a small vial of liquid. ‘It suppresses certain parts of the target brain’s memory, and it’s also used after a mission to erase the implanted persona.’

Bianca looked down at Adam. He was still staring silently up at the lights, unmoving. ‘Are you sure there aren’t any long-term side effects?’ she felt compelled to ask. ‘Especially if you’re giving him repeated doses.’

Kiddrick shot a look at Tony – whether seeking his permission to speak or warning him not to say anything, Bianca couldn’t tell – before replying. ‘There are side effects, yes, but they’re minor and easily managed. Now, watch this.’ He moved to the head of the operating table and positioned the injector against Adam’s neck. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes,’ said Adam, without emotion.

Kiddrick pulled the trigger. Adam grimaced, then relaxed. Bianca watched him closely. Though it was hard to imagine how, he seemed to become even more expressionless, as if the little personality that he had expressed was draining away.

After half a minute, Kiddrick clicked his fingers above Adam’s face. The agent’s gaze instantly locked on to them. ‘Okay, Adam. Does everything feel normal?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ He examined the PERSONA’s screen, seeing a ready message. ‘Okay. Here we go.’

He typed in a command. New windows appeared, one displaying a simplified graphic of a brain. Coloured patterns drifted across it – then flared into brilliant, manic life.

Adam’s whole body spasmed. Bianca jerked back in surprise, before leaning in for a closer look. His eyes were flickering rapidly from side to side. She also saw that his hands had twisted into gnarled fists. ‘Is he in pain?’ she asked, concerned.

She expected Kiddrick to answer, but Tony spoke first. ‘No. It’s not exactly pleasant, but it doesn’t hurt.’

‘Okay, the transfer is in progress,’ said Kiddrick, looking up from the machine. ‘It’ll take six or seven minutes. That’s longer than a direct transfer would take, because it has to decompress the data.’

Bianca kept watching Adam. His eye movements, she realised, mirrored the unconscious flicks of a person recalling memories – but at a far greater speed. ‘You know, I have real trouble reducing the sum total of a person’s self to just “data”.’

‘Would you prefer if I called it the “soul”?’ Kiddrick replied sarcastically.

They waited for the device to do its work. The whirlwind of colours on the graphic eventually dimmed and slowed. Kiddrick peered at some numbers on the screen, then nodded. ‘Okay, it’s done. Now, Dr Childs.’ He gestured theatrically at Adam. ‘I’d like you to meet . . . Conrad Wilmar.’

Adam sat up, blinking. His gaze hopped to each person around the table. ‘Okay, ah . . . yeah, I can do without the whole staring thing, thanks.’

Bianca was no expert in American accents, but even from those few words she could tell that Adam’s had changed. It did sound like Wilmar’s, but she wasn’t prepared to accept that alone as proof that the PERSONA process genuinely worked.

‘The memory check?’ Tony prompted.

‘Yes, yes.’ Kiddrick signalled for Adam to face him. ‘Okay. What’s your full name?’

‘Conrad Mathias Wilmar,’ said Adam, peering quizzically back at him.

‘What was your date of birth?’

‘June twelfth, 1959. At twelve minutes past six. So, six twelve on six twelve.’ A lopsided grin at the quirky coincidence.

‘Where were you born?’

‘Bridgeport, Connecticut.’

‘Your mother’s maiden name?’

‘Schumacher.’

Kiddrick nodded, then an oily little smirk crept on to his face. ‘Now . . . what’s your most guilty secret? The one that you’d least want anyone else to ever know?’

‘I . . .’ Adam’s expression suddenly turned to one of shame, even alarm. ‘I, I mean he, he . . . I’ve been unfaithful to my wife. There’s another woman, Meg, I’ve been seeing. We work together.’

To Bianca, it felt as though each word was being forced out of him at gunpoint, so clear was his reluctance to make the admission. She looked at the others, to find that the three men were regarding Adam with anything from mild curiosity – Tony – to Kiddrick’s outright amusement. ‘Wait a minute,’ the latter said. ‘Not Meg Garner, surely?’

Adam nodded frantically. ‘Yeah, yeah.’

Kiddrick chuckled. ‘Well, that should be fun next time I go down to Carnegie Mellon!’ Adam’s face expressed utter dismay.

‘Wait a minute,’ protested Bianca. ‘You just got Adam – Conrad – whichever, to confess his biggest secret, and you’re treating it all as a big laugh? I mean, he’s . . .’ She stopped, unsure exactly what to say. Did she mean Adam, or