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  In the morning Louise headed to Bath. After just over an hour of driving, she found the house of a fairly recent crash survivor called Ashley Davidson. Ashley had had a miraculous car escape in 2009.

  He lived in a quiet side street off the main high street in Bath. He was in his mid-thirties, very personable and chatty. Louise gave him the high level story and, as the conversation moved on, it became clear there was a resonance.

  ‘I’m not sure I should be saying this to anyone, let alone a news reporter, but I have always felt I was a little special.’ He paused and chuckled. ‘On reflection, I’d prefer to tell this to you than a psychiatrist. Okay, so…‌I do feel generally that 50-50 chances go my way more often than they should.’

  ‘Have you ever tested this?’

  Ashley looked a little sheepish. ‘I did try a few years ago…‌rolling dice…‌nothing. I haven’t tried recently, but I’m still convinced things generally go my way.’

  ‘You shouldn’t feel weird about it. I’m doing investigation into this very thing and I’ve met a few other people like you.’ Well, I’ve almost met them.

  Ashley gave a tiny nod, an indication, perhaps, that he was not averse to believing her. Louise pressed on. ‘Would you be prepared do some formal tests with me and the scientific team I am collaborating with?’ Can’t say husband and his quiz partner.

  ‘Maybe, what are the specifics? What’s this other team?’

  Louise did not miss a beat. ‘I’ve put together a small research team with some professors from a north London university. It’s a small team, but we’re determined to get to the bottom of our investigations.’

  For a few moments Ashley was silent. ‘Where and when?’

  ‘We’ll be running our first session this Wednesday evening in North London. Clearly that’s very short notice for you. So you could come to another one instead. But if you’re good for this Wednesday then I’ll pay costs.’ Please.

  Silence.

  ‘You may get some helpful insights, plus we’re testing other people from similar circumstances.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Louise smile broadly. Thank god! Louise provided additional details of where and when, then said her goodbyes and left.

  On her way back into London, Louise noticed she was gripping the steering wheel very hard. She really needed this story. Although Harry constantly denied it, she was under pressure at The Daily Record. All Harry’s talk about her being his star reporter was true…‌to him. But he wouldn’t be around forever, and alternative sponsors were notable by their absence.

  One genuine crash survivor; hopefully one more tomorrow.

  Chapter 31

  As Louise was driving home, Mike settled down in The Three Kings. Jeff was late. He nursed his beer and reflected on their current situation. It was fun! The intrigue and speculation really got him excited. Of course, nothing would happen at the tests on Wednesday, but they would have created a story of failure they’d savour for years.

  Mike was brought out of his contemplations by Jeff’s arrival. Jeff sat down with a thud. ‘Louise just called. She’s got a crash survivor.’

  ‘Good news.’ Mike opened up his notebook and took a pen from his inside jacket pocket. Not any old pen either, it was his lucky pen. A shiny Montblanc, given to him by the Fermi Research lab for a paper he’d written almost 20 years previously. ‘So, what shall we say to Bob?’

  ‘Do we even need him? Louise was a little scathing when I spoke to her earlier.’ Jeff took a sip of beer. ‘She’s worried about leaks.’

  ‘I did a little digging over the weekend into my records: emails, notes from university meetings, memories! Etcetera.’ Mike consulted his notebook. ‘I did come across an old email in which he was named as our liaison with the MOD.’

  ‘So you’re suspicious?

  ‘Not really; we should try to use his expertise.’

  Jeff looked concerned. ‘Louise was adamant about secrecy.’

  Mike was about to respond, when he noticed Bob walk in. Maintaining his usual gait, Bob marched across the pub—shoulders back, chin up—he’d perfected the small man charge. Mike stood up as he approached. ‘Welcome, Monsieur Reaple.’

  ‘Mike.’ Bob turned to Jeff. ‘Jeff.’ Without waiting, Bob sat down, a look of intrigue on his face. ‘So, how are the mind control experiments going? Go on—tell me which TV production company it’s for.’

  ‘I can’t say too much.’ Jeff eyed him warily.

  ‘You haven’t said anything yet.’

  ‘We’re planning some experiments to see if participants can somehow influence a coin tossed in a closed box.’

  Mike watched the conversation unfold, concentrating on Bob.

  Bob leant forward, accusing. ‘So what makes you think there could be anything to be found? Surely it goes against pretty much all we know about the way the human brain interacts with the world. There are no scientifically plausible records of mind control or telekinesis.’

  Jeff looked chagrined. ‘A null result will be a valid result. We just need to make sure the experiment is tight, and the data is well controlled.’

  ‘So you don’t actually expect to find anything out.’ Bob paused for only a second, before charging on. ‘You must be aware that there are billions of dollars spent on gambling every year—all of that would be defunct if people could skew the results.’

  Jeff nodded.

  Mike was suddenly nervous. They hadn’t prepared well enough for this. Bob was steam-rolling them. Need to get some breathing space.

  Bob continued. ‘So the most pertinent question is…‌why did you start this investigation at all?’

  Mike interjected. ‘Bob, surely you’ve already computed that we’re prostituting ourselves to a wacko television programme.’

  Bob did not miss a beat. ‘Are you?’

  ‘We’re…’

  Jeff cut Mike off. ‘No. We’re genuinely trying to investigate luck.’ Jeff paused. ‘Actual luck.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My wife is a journalist. She investigated a guy who had miraculously escaped from a car crash. She found other miraculous escapees. She found references to special powers. One thing led to another and we’re trying to replicate the activity.’

  ‘I hope you’re not planning to crash cars, are you?’

  Jeff smiled. A disarming smile, self-effacing and open. ‘No, of course not. We will try to set up simple experiments to investigate luck. We’re expecting null results, but we’ve come across…’

  Mike interjected. ‘Hedgehog!’

  Bob was an excellent scientist and an effective political mover, but Mike allowed himself a satisfied smile as Bob proved to be a terrible actor. He jumped in his seat, visibly startled.

  Mike raised an eyebrow at Jeff. Now turn on the indignation.

  Jeff stood and started to collect his things. He whispered at Bob angrily. ‘You have set me up in some way. I don’t know how, but I’m leaving now. Shame on you for taking advantage of our professional connection.’

  Bob was startled for a moment. ‘Wait Jeff, Mike, I know it looks bad, but there’s no entrapment going on here. I will be honest with you…‌well, as honest as I can be without going to jail. Give me two minutes to explain.’

  Jeff made no move to retake his seat.

  Bob looked at Mike imploring. ‘Come on, Mike, we go back a long way.’

  Mike nodded and Jeff retook his seat.

  ‘You guys went snooping around the government, and the internet, using code words which have been buried for 50 years. There are some very concerned people at the MOD worried about security leaks.’ Bob looked to each of them in turn, and then continued. ‘The most reasonable person, my boss, decided a few tacit questions from me would be significantly preferable to black masks, tear gas and guns in the middle of the night.’

  Mike chuckled. ‘Come on, Bob. We may go back a long way but half an apology and half a threat is not sufficiently conciliato
ry. Let’s put all of our cards on the table.’

  Leaning back, Jeff folded his arms. ‘I want to know about Project Hedgehog? So what do you want to know? ’

  ‘When your wife tricked the General into giving information about Project Hedgehog an alert was generated.’ Bob stopped to take a sip of his beer. ‘They want to know how you got the code name Hedgehog.’

  Jeff looked at Mike briefly then shrugged. ‘Louise was investigating this guy who had survived a nasty crash. She was looking at all angles. She’s under pressure at work. Anyway, she picked up the phrase Project Hedgehog from an internet conspiracy site. The…’

  Mike cut in over Jeff. ‘What do you know about Hedgehog, Bob?’

  Bob shook his head. ‘Nothing at all. My boss has told me nothing, except it was top secret.’ They looked at each other for a few moments. He smiled. ‘Look, I have to report back to him. But I will tell him there’s no leak. You just got it off the internet. Can you give me the URLs?’

  ‘It’s rather hard to reconcile the fact that you’ve been sent by the MOD with your claim that you are blissfully unaware of any background to Hedgehog.’

  ‘Have you ever worked with the government? It doesn’t even know it has a left hand, let alone what it’s doing.’

  Mike smiled. ‘Perhaps there’s a modicum of truth in that. Okay, then, Mr Reaple. We believe you.’ Mike turned to Jeff, who shrugged. ‘Now, can we buy you another drink?’

  ‘Sure, a strong one.’ Bob chuckled. ‘I wasn’t completely lying about being interested in the mind control stuff, though. I am open to scientific controversy and I’d be interested in talking more about it.’

  Jeff looked at him. ‘It depends on your further orders for this investigation.’

  ‘Well, I can’t be sure what those orders will be at the moment.’

  Jeff replied. ‘We would be interested in your thoughts. Maybe once you’ve done your report we can talk further.’

  Mike leant forward. ‘Nothing at all about Hedgehog, really?’

  Bob spread his hand wide, palms up in supplication. ‘As I said, nothing. My boss has given me nothing to go on.’

  Jeff’s phone pinged. It was a text from Louise. She was home. He jumped up and collected his things. ‘I’ll speak to both of you tomorrow.’

  Mike and Bob sat in amiable silence for a few minutes, finishing their drinks. Mike had worked with Bob quite a few times before on university funding committees. They knew each other. As Bob made ready to leave, Mike felt the need to say something more. He felt a little guilty about entrapping Bob earlier. ‘Cards on the table, Bob. This all started as therapy for Louise. She feels she’s struggling at work and just wanted a big story. But it’s morphed into something a little more interesting; there are a few tantalising bits of information all teasing us as to the existence of something bigger.’

  Bob grimaced. ‘But the science…’

  ‘We’re just doing a little research. We may find something, we may not.’ Mike stood up. ‘It would be great to see the Hedgehog results. Please could you try to orchestrate something?’

  ‘I have no idea how. My boss doesn’t seem to know anything. I’ll try. Let’s keep communication lines open.’

  ‘Do you want to review our experiment set-up?’

  ‘Let me think about it. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.’

  On Tuesday morning, Louise stomped around the kitchen making her breakfast in the loudest way she possibly could. Jeff’s revelation the previous evening about how much he’d told Bob Reaple had annoyed her immensely. He just didn’t understand about confidentiality and control of information. Bloody naïve scientists.

  Jeff came into the kitchen looking a little bedraggled. His night on the sofa had not been comfortable. Louise eyed him guardedly, daring him to say anything to lighten the mood.

  After a few moments searching through his jacket pockets, Jeff lit a cigarette and went into the garden. Louise watched him through the kitchen window. The drizzle was falling incessantly and she could see him getting drenched. She opened a window. ‘Come in, Jeff.’ He wasn’t really to blame; Mike and he were trying their best. They just weren’t seasoned at snooping.

  Jeff came back in. ‘We know now our investigation has something going for it.’

  In a blink her burgeoning sympathy evaporated, she simply couldn’t stop herself. ‘We knew already. Mary Jones confirmed it. General Crowley confirmed it.’ She reached for her coat and walked to the front door. ‘Now you’ve told them, they know we know.’

  Jeff followed her down the corridor. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I’m off to Acton to track down another crash survivor—well, not a crash exactly. Willis Fereepe—gang fight survivor.’

  ‘What’s his story?’

  ‘Willis and his gang were ambushed down a dead-end alley. Initially only a half-serious attack; just pot shots with small airguns. But one of the rival gang had managed to get his hands on a black-market stun-grenade—or so he thought.’

  ‘So he thought?’

  ‘It was a high-powered fragmentation grenade; Willis had six close friends ripped to shreds while he had no more than a few deep scratches. It was characterised as a mistake, a tragedy and a miracle all at the same time.’ Louise opened the front door, then turned. ‘You need to ask Mike if there’s anything you can do for tomorrow’s tests.’

  Jeff nodded. ‘I’m going to speak to him later this afternoon.’

  Louise mouthed. ‘Now!’

  Jeff opened his mouth to make his excuses as Louise pulled the door shut.

  Chapter 32

  Returning to the crew room, Aytch found Justio deeply immersed in studying the data feeds from Jack’s house. Jack was mostly wandering around the house and talking to himself. He did appear to be more relaxed than on the previous few days: there was less compulsive straightening of furniture, less double-checking of door locks, and a generally slower pace of wandering.

  Aytch sat down. ‘Are there notable developments I should be aware of?’

  ‘Nope.’ Justio looked up. ‘I’m just studying his movements…‌considering ways to lure him up to North London.’

  Fiddling with his comms tablet, Aytch brought up some technical statistics related to Jack’s electronic appliances—no degradation in the last 24 hours.

  ‘We’re missing a mini-bot. Given the last recorded position, when it stopped transmitting, I’d guess we lost it down the shower plug hole.’ Justio shrugged. ‘It shouldn’t have been there.’

  ‘I can take a few hundred more when I go down for the extraction. We need to agree a date and time for that.’

  ‘A week or so.’

  Aytch turned to face Justio. ‘I would really like to formalise the time and date.’

  Justio did not meet his gaze, instead concentrating on his own comms tablet. ‘I will provide some options within the next 24 hours.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Aytch involuntarily looked to the ceiling, where he pretended that the Gadium recording machinery was. Although, in reality, it was embedded into his chair.

  A new set of screens appeared on the main wall. Justio had projected the recent G60 and Harding transcripts. ‘So we’re agreed to let them run their experiments, find nothing and lose interest.’

  ‘Assuming Louise doesn’t create a problem when Jack disappears.’

  ‘Disinformation will be easy, Aytch, we’ll fabricate a story—send Louise an anonymous email saying Jack has relocated to Buenos Aries.’ Justio brought up the screens showing Louise’s progress in recruiting crash survivors for their tests. He directed Aytch’s attention to the relevant screens. ‘She’s met Mary Jones and Ashley Davidson. She did get an alien hint, so we’ll have to monitor them.’

  Aytch scanned the transcripts. ‘She also got a fairly strong lead on Hedgehog.’

  ‘There’s nothing there for her to find.’ Justio made a calming gesture. ‘We’ve seen their experiment design, they’re nowhere: they
don’t have the right people, they don’t have the right conditions, and they have no idea what they are looking for.’

  ‘If they get close, we’ll need to take action.’

  ‘They’ll give up. If not, we have plenty of options. Murdering reporters and old women is not the first one.’

  Yet again Aytch felt a twinge, the Gadium dictates were very clear. Everything was focused on the greater good. Sometimes it was necessary to take drastic steps. Why does Justio paint me into a corner?

  ‘Formally noted and agreed.’ Aytch paused. ‘But I will instruct the mini-bots to start cutting into the Mike Littlejohn garage gas pipes.’ There was an itch in the back of Aytch’s subconscious; he’d overlooked something.

  Justio spoke again. ‘It will go smoothly. My only real concern is the talk of aliens. It would be a genuine disaster if we had to quarantine the planet for a hundred generations.’

  ‘There are other failures too: Despots, war and animustosis.’

  Justio started closing down the transcripts on the main wall.

  There! ‘Can you freeze, please, Justio?’ Aytch pointed to a section of the transcript. ‘That’s new—James Hollander—have you come across him before?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Justio paused and checked his comms tablet. ‘He came up on a Potential Alpha event log about ten years ago…‌ah, yes, you were in a stasis break. It was too tenuous to investigate.’

  Silence settled on the crew room and Aytch continued to review the video footage from Earth related to Louise Harding. It was not as clear cut as Justio would have him believe. Yes, the historical precedents were clear, if host populations became aware of the Gadium mission before most of the population were Alphas there was often war. But an open mind towards aliens in general helped cultural assimilation.

  Aytch looked across the room; Justio continued to work, his head buried in his own communications tablet. Aytch preferred to use the main crew room walls, it encouraged consensus.

  With a shrug, Aytch turned back to his own work. He reviewed the locations and statuses of the Jack Bullage mini-bots—yes, there was one missing. He started a search for it using the other mini-bots’ active electromagnetic probing. It seemed a safe option, it was not as if Jack Bullage was scanning for stray signals.