The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,79

And how would only having a partial persona affect Adam? She had no idea; it was not a possibility Albion or Kiddrick had ever envisaged.

Adam’s fingers were twitching, eyes moving as quickly as Zykov’s. Something was being transferred, at least. Enough to get the information they needed? All she could do was wait and hope.

A minute passed. The data on the screen told her that everything seemed normal – so far. But for how much longer?

‘Bianca,’ Holly Jo said, giving her a start. ‘One of the bodyguards just came into the lounge.’ More urgency in her voice. ‘He’s heading for the bedroom!’

Bianca whipped round in helpless horror as someone knocked on the door.

20

The Face on the Bathroom Floor

A man said something in Russian. A question, Bianca could tell from his intonation. But she had no answer. And with Zykov trapped in the whirlwind of his own memories, there was no way she could force him to reply.

Another knock. If he didn’t get an answer soon—

She didn’t know what prompted her to do it, perhaps the half-forgotten memory of a scene from some movie or book, but she giggled, bouncing up and down on the end of the bed. The mattress creaked. Simultaneously blushing at the incongruous silliness of her actions and gripped with utter terror, she waited . . .

The door didn’t open.

‘He’s going,’ said Holly Jo, voice filled with relief.

‘Bianca, stay still,’ Tony added. Seconds passed. Bianca heard the faint clunk of a door. ‘Okay, he’s gone.’

She let out an explosive exhalation. ‘Oh Jesus! Shit.’ Her hands were shaking – no, her whole body. ‘God, that was close.’

‘Are you all right?’ asked Tony.

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m just . . . scared,’ she admitted.

‘You’ve done an amazing job, Bianca. Really. All you need to do now is wrap it up and we can get you out of there. How’s the transfer going?’

She checked the PERSONA. The visual representations of the process were now quiescent. ‘I think it’s done,’ she said, pecking at the keyboard with a quivering finger. ‘It says the latency estimates are . . . God, I don’t know. Not what they should be, is all I can tell you.’

‘Check on Adam.’

She moved to him. His eyes were closed. ‘Adam?’ she said quietly. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Yes.’ He frowned, as if experiencing a mild headache.

‘Ask him his name,’ said Tony.

She did so. Adam opened his eyes, giving her a pained look. ‘Adam Gray.’

‘It didn’t work,’ she said, crestfallen. Everything had been for nothing . . .

‘No, wait,’ Adam said, raising a hand. ‘It’s there, it’s just . . . fuzzy. Hold on. My name is . . . Ruslan. Ruslan Pavelovich Zykov.’ His voice changed as he repeated the name, taking on some of the Russian’s heavy accent.

‘Your date of birth?’ Bianca asked hopefully.

‘January 1966. The . . . the tenth.’

‘That’s right,’ said Holly Jo through Bianca’s earwig.

Bianca decided to skip through the standard questions. ‘What’s your most guilty secret?’

Adam’s reluctance to answer told her that at least some of Zykov’s persona had been transferred to him. ‘When I was a boy, I . . . I stole from our church. I broke in and took all the icons, and sold them to a trader for two hundred American dollars. The whole village was horrified, but they never found out it was me who took them.’

Bianca leaned back, surprised. Zykov was an arms dealer, a violent killer – and that was the event in his life of which he was most ashamed? ‘Okay, I think it worked,’ she announced to those listening. ‘So now can we get out of here?’

Adam unstrapped his skullcap. ‘We need to wipe Zykov’s memory first.’

‘And figure out a way to explain why he’s missing ten minutes of his life,’ Holly Jo added.

Bianca looked into the bathroom. ‘I’ve got an idea. You move him in there – I’ll pack up the gear.’ She removed the cap from Zykov’s head.

Adam took hold of the blank-eyed Russian and dragged him from the bed. ‘Always the same. The man has to lift heavy stuff while the woman does nothing.’

‘I hope that was Zykov saying that and not you,’ Bianca chided, unplugging the cables and powering down the PERSONA.

Adam towed Zykov to the bathroom and manoeuvred him through the doorway. By the time he had pulled him inside, Bianca had packed everything up – except for the injector of Mnemexal. ‘Okay,’ she said, joining him. ‘See where I spilled the champagne?’ She indicated the splash. ‘I’ll yell for help,