The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,87
– then Adam popped up right in front of him. ‘Boo!’
Spence let out a startled yelp, losing his hold and falling back with an echoing crash. Twin explosions of swearing told Bianca that he had knocked Fallon down with him. Adam dropped to the ground beside her. His expression as he pulled her back upright was nothing short of mischievous glee. ‘Come on!’
They ran to the street. Adam almost seemed to be dancing as he crossed the road, dodging and weaving through the cars. Bianca followed with rather more apprehension. They reached the other side and ran down the next block.
‘Stop, stop!’ Bianca gasped as they rounded a corner. While she tried to exercise as often as she could at home, the sheer unexpectedness of the chase had caught her unprepared.
Adam slowed to let her catch up. He was almost buzzing with energy. ‘Damn!’ he said, laughing. ‘That was fun.’
‘That’s your idea of fun?’ she complained. ‘Being chased by – okay, I don’t want to call them “goons”, because you work with them, but . . . by goons?’
‘They wouldn’t have hurt you.’
‘I don’t know, they seemed pretty angry.’
‘I wouldn’t have let them.’ There was a matter-of-factness to the statement that made her very glad he was on her side.
‘Won’t that cause you a lot of trouble at STS, though?’
He shook his head. ‘Those two overstepped the mark. Anyway, don’t worry about it. Are you okay?’
She recovered her breath. ‘More or less. Oh!’ She twisted to check her trousers, and found a dirty mark across her buttocks. ‘Bloody hell. I landed in some mud.’
‘Sorry. I’ll take you somewhere you can get cleaned up.’
She was about to suggest her hotel, when impulsive curiosity took over. ‘Your place?’
Adam appeared briefly surprised, but then nodded. There was not a trace of lascivious intent, though. ‘Sure. We can carry on our conversation.’
‘About?’
Another smile, but one tinged with disquiet. ‘About why that was literally the most fun I can ever remember having.’
23
The Impossible Dream
They took a cab to Adam’s apartment. He received three phone calls en route, all of which he ignored. Once there, he watched Bianca’s reaction as she looked around the living room.
‘What do you think?’ he asked. It was not the tone of someone awaiting praise for their taste, more that of a patient expecting the worst.
‘Hmm,’ she said.
‘That bad?’
‘It’s very . . . minimalist.’ She felt as if she had entered some sort of avant-garde art installation. The room was almost completely devoid of colour: white walls and ceiling, black furniture, the carpet a nondescript grey. Even the Apple laptop on a desk was monochrome aluminium.
There was something else unusual, but it took her a few seconds to work out what. When the answer came, it was startling in its obviousness. ‘You don’t have a television?’
Adam shook his head. ‘I don’t have a radio, either.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. It just never occurred to me to buy one.’
‘It reminds me of the Cube, back at STS.’
‘Yeah, I know. And that’s something else that hadn’t occurred to me before – at least, not until you started making me think about it.’
She peered into the kitchen. It was as plain as the lounge; no mess, no clutter, everything neatly stored. ‘Did you choose this place?’
‘No. After I joined the Persona Project, they arranged it for me. All the furniture was already here.’
‘And you didn’t bring any of your own stuff with you?’
‘I didn’t have any stuff, now I think about it. Just clothes.’
‘Nothing else? No books or CDs, anything like that?’
Another shake of his head. ‘Now, I’m fairly sure that’s not normal.’
‘Not unless you’re secretly a Trappist monk. And I can’t picture you in a robe.’
‘Maybe on a mission . . .’ His phone rang again. He checked the screen. ‘Tony.’
‘You’re still not going to answer?’
‘Not yet. I want to see how panicked they get about all this.’
‘Is that wise?’
‘Probably not.’ He cocked his head towards her. ‘Well, there’s something we’ve found out about my personality. Apparently I’m reckless.’
‘I’m not sure I’d go that far,’ she assured him. ‘Maybe you like to test the boundaries, though.’
The ringing stopped. ‘I’ll get something so you can clean yourself off. Please, have a seat.’
She sat in a black leather armchair as he went into the kitchen. ‘This apartment, then – have you ever done anything here except eat and sleep?’
‘No. And you’re actually my first social visitor.’
‘In how long?’
‘In, ah . . . seven months. That’s when I moved in here.’