The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,78

her an odd look. ‘Aren’t you going to weigh him?’

‘Did you bring any scales?’ she snapped.

‘No.’

‘Well, then! You just picked him up; how heavy would you say he is?’

‘I’d guess about . . . a hundred and eighty pounds?’

‘That means nothing to me – I work in kilograms!’

‘Eighty-one kilos,’ said Holly Jo through her earwig after a moment.

‘Thank you!’ Bianca backed away, trying to do the sums in her head and quickly finding that they were beyond the limits of her mental arithmetic. ‘I need a pen and paper, or a calc—’ Adam used his free hand to take out his phone and toss it to her. ‘Okay, thanks.’ She found the calculator app and started tapping in numbers.

Zykov was as confused as he was angry. ‘Who are you? This is about more than just taking my money, isn’t it?’

‘Very perceptive, little comrade,’ said Adam.

Zykov scowled. ‘I will kill you for this. And her.’

‘You won’t even know it happened. Bianca?’

‘Got it,’ she said with relief. She loaded the jet injector with Hyperthymexine and set the dial to what she hoped was the right dose. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’

Zykov started to struggle; Adam jammed his free hand down hard on his throat. The Russian rasped, choking. ‘Shit!’ Bianca gasped, afraid that he would alert his guards. She pushed the injector against his neck.

‘No, wait!’ said Adam, but it was too late. A brief phut of gas. Zykov’s breathless rattle became a strained gurgle of pain as his entire body convulsed. ‘Wrong order, you’ve done it in the wrong order!’ He released the Russian and scrambled across the bed to the laptop bag.

‘Sorry, I’m sorry!’ Bianca squeaked, close to panic. ‘I thought he was going to shout for help!’

‘It’s okay. Help me with this.’ Dropping the gun, he unzipped the bag to reveal the PERSONA equipment. One corner of the recorder was cracked where it had hit the rooftop. ‘Tony!’

His superior’s voice came through the earwig. ‘Yes?’

‘The recorder’s damaged,’ he said, already opening the main unit’s screen and starting it up. ‘Do you want to risk—’

‘No, just make a direct transfer,’ Tony ordered. He didn’t need to ask what had happened; the audio feed from their earwigs and the hovering drone’s cameras had told the full story. ‘Get as much as you can before the drug wears off.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bianca said again as she prepared the skullcaps. ‘I was—’

‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter,’ he assured her. ‘Just set everything up as quickly as you can.’

She gave one of the caps to Adam, who donned it and started to adjust the positions of the electrode clusters. ‘I don’t know what the margin of error is on this thing,’ he said, as much to himself as anyone, ‘so it’s a good job I’m a gambler right now.’

Bianca pulled the second skullcap over Zykov’s head. She had seen the effects of being injected with Hyperthymexine on video, finding it merely unsettling, but in person – and on an unwilling subject – it was extremely disturbing. ‘How long have we got?’

‘No idea. Roger was the expert. Does this look right?’ Adam pulled the chin strap tight, then turned his head so she could see it from all angles.

‘As far as I can tell.’

‘Okay.’ He took out the jet injector. ‘I’ll wipe Vanwall’s persona. You connect everything up, and the second you’re ready, start the transfer.’ He lay back on the bed and put the injector’s nozzle to his neck.

‘Adam, I . . .’ Bianca started to say, but he had already pulled the trigger. His body tensed . . . then the ever-etched smirk of Peter Vanwall slowly dissolved from his face.

She turned back to Zykov. The Russian was straining as if his muscles were trying to burst through his skin, eyes flicking rapidly from side to side. The drug was firing his synapses, forcing him to recall all his memories – but how many had already gone?

The thought galvanised her. She secured the skullcap, giving the electrodes one last quick check. If they were wrongly positioned, it was too late to do anything about it. She took the cable and plugged it into the PERSONA, then did the same with the lead from Adam’s cap. ‘Okay, here we go,’ she said breathlessly as she tapped the keyboard.

ACTIVE: PERSONA TRANSFER IN PROGRESS.

The screen lit up, numbers scrolling up one window. The stylised graphic flared with pulsating colours as the electrodes read Zykov’s brain activity and sent that data into Adam’s mind. How much had her mistake lost?