The Phoenix Page 9

  ‘Perhaps you know the man who recruited me?’ she asked Jackson, describing him again. ‘Christine said she doesn’t.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s not ringing a bell for me either,’ Jackson said, apologetically.

  No one seemed to know anything, other than the fact that Ella herself was ‘important’ and ‘expected’ and ‘different’, like some sort of magical unicorn they’d been told to wait for, and who had now miraculously appeared among them.

  I’m like the messiah of a religion I’ve never heard of and don’t understand, she thought. A mix of fatigue and extreme anger washed over Ella.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She stood up abruptly. ‘I seem to have made a mistake. I should never have come here. I need to leave.’

  ‘Leave?’ Christine looked aghast. ‘But, you can’t leave. You’ve literally only just arrived.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Ella again, to Christine and Jackson. ‘Good luck with everything. It was nice to meet you both.’

  She grabbed her suitcase and turned on her heel out of the cabin without a second glance. It had been a long and grueling day, coming here, and her hopes had been so high after last night. But it had all been for nothing. The man had lured her here under false pretenses. She didn’t believe that anyone at Camp Hope knew her parents. The man had delivered Ella to his group of misfits and weirdoes, like a good little brainwashed boy, and then disappeared. Again.

  Jackson seemed pleasant, and perhaps Christine was nice enough too in her own pneumatic, giggly way. But it was a carefully controlled ‘nice’. A cult nice, a ‘be patient, all will be revealed’ nice, designed to suck Ella into whatever cause it was that ‘The Group’ believed in, without actually answering any of her questions.

  She marched up the winding maze of paths towards the front gates. She passed only a few people along the way, some of whom gave her curious glances, although no one intervened. Everybody else was obviously on the way to community dinner. Reaching the gates at last, her heart pounded as she approached the two men on duty.

  ‘I need to leave,’ she blurted. ‘Now.’

  ‘Leave?’ the first man looked puzzled.

  ‘Yes,’ Ella said firmly, although inside her panic was mounting. What if they wouldn’t let her out? What if they tried to keep her a prisoner here?

  ‘Are you sure?’ the second man asked, compounding Ella’s anxiety. ‘It’s very late. Where will you go?’

  ‘Just open the gates,’ Ella demanded.

  He hesitated.

  ‘Open them!’

  To her surprise and relief, the man shrugged and did as she asked, pressing a button that caused the camp gates to swing open. Outside, beyond the softly floodlit glow of Camp Hope, the pitch-dark forest stretched endlessly out in front of her. Ella hesitated. Where am I going to go? she wondered. It suddenly struck her that she had no idea in which direction her car was parked, and Agnes must have driven her at least a few miles away from that spot. There’d be bears out there, and mountain lions, and heaven knew what else. Her phone was dead and she was unarmed. Should she turn back and wait till morning?

  ‘Leaving us so soon, Ella?’ Ella spun around. The man’s voice rang out in her head as clearly as if she were watching television or listening to the radio in her room. As ever he sounded supremely calm and unconcerned. Amused, almost. It was infuriating.

  ‘Where are you?!’ Ella’s exasperated voice rang out through the trees. There must be a camera up there somewhere, hidden in the canopy, but in this light she couldn’t see it. ‘Answer me!’

  ‘No need to shout. You’re free to go at any time, of course,’ he continued, his voice patronizingly slow and patient, as if Ella were the crazy one, not him. ‘This isn’t a prison.’

  ‘It might as well be,’ Ella yelled into the darkness, aware that anyone listening to her must think her completely insane, having a confrontational conversation with an imaginary friend. ‘Everyone inside is completely brainwashed.’

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

  So there were listening devices out there too? There must be, or how could he be hearing her?

  ‘How are you doing this? How are you speaking to me? Transmitting …?’

  ‘Be patient,’ said the man. ‘The answers you seek are all here, Ella, I promise you that. About your parents. Your past. Your future.’

  ‘No,’ she shot back. ‘They aren’t. No one knows anything.’

  A long sigh. ‘They do. Trust me.’

  ‘Why should I?’ said Ella furiously. ‘Why should I trust you when you won’t tell me who you are, or where you are, or anything at all? And if you really have the answers, why won’t you just tell me them now? What are you waiting for? For me to be brainwashed too? Because I’m telling you now, it’s not going to happen.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Total silence. Ella wondered whether the man had gone, ‘hung up’ on whatever line it was he seemed to have into her head, her psyche. But then he spoke again, more kindly than before.

  ‘Stay here tonight.’ It was less of a command, more of a suggestion. ‘The woods aren’t safe and you need to sleep.’

  That much at least was true, much as she wished it weren’t.

  ‘Someone will brief you by the end of the day tomorrow. If you still want to leave after that meeting, then I’ll help you get safely back home.’

  Mute and exhausted, Ella nodded. Wordlessly, she trudged back down the hill towards her bungalow, watched by the two bewildered guards.

  She didn’t trust the man. Not as far as she could throw him. But she didn’t trust the bears either.

  Tomorrow.

  She would leave tomorrow.

  One day at Camp Hope wouldn’t kill her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  They’re trying to kill me. They are actually trying to kill me.

  Ella sank to her knees, unable to move another step. Her lungs were in agony. After an eight-mile run in punishing midday heat, she felt as if she’d inhaled a bag of razor blades. Her skin burned, the blisters on her feet screamed and a dreadful feeling of nausea rose all the way from the pit of her (empty) stomach to her parched throat. Forget the Marine Corps. The first day’s ‘introductory’ physical training at Camp Hope had clearly been devised by an experienced torturer, possibly headhunted by The Group from a Malaysian prison.

  ‘All right, ladies. One-minute water break and then you’re in active recovery. That means a light jog back to base. No walking.’ The tracksuit-wearing giant from yesterday smiled at Ella and the two other young women slumped on the ground beside her, as if he’d just done them a favor. He’d apparently abandoned yesterday’s tag-team of skeletons to initiate Ella and the other new recruits into the joys of ops training, an experience Ella would categorically not be repeating after today. Astonishingly, both the other girls smiled weakly back at him, earning themselves a withering glare from Ella. These brainwashed, cult groupies were too much for her. She could tell they were intimidated by her anger, but she couldn’t have cared less if her life depended on it.

  Jogging back through the forest, she felt her frustration building, even as the agony in her lungs began to recede. She’d heard nothing from the man today, about this ‘briefing’ she was supposed to receive, or anything else. The voices in her head had gone completely silent. She didn’t have a watch on, but she reckoned it must be three o’clock at least, judging by the position of the sun, and the long, grueling hours she’d been out training. She’d longed to tell the Adidas giant where he could stick his barked orders, but having come this far she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the promised meeting and explanation. Now, however, she was beginning to think that the man was simply stringing her along again, dangling carrots he never had any intention of actually delivering.

  Back at the camp, Ella stopped for a moment to catch her breath before heading straight up the path that Christine had told her led to the administrative offices.

  ‘Praeger!’ the giant boomed. ‘Where do you think you’re going? The
showers are this way.’

  Ella’s only answer was a succinct middle finger raised above her head as she kept walking, to audible shocked gasps from her training mates. A few minutes later, pulling open the door to the main office so violently it might have come off its hinges, she stood like an angry bull in front of the reception desk, sweating and panting. ‘I demand to see whoever’s in charge of this dump,’ she snapped at the young man behind the desk. ‘Right now.’

  The young man didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Of course, Ms Praeger,’ he smiled. ‘Ms MacAvoy’s been expecting you. Can I get you a glass of water or would you prefer to go straight through?’

  Thrown by his reaction, Ella hesitated. Before she could answer, the glass door behind the reception desk swung open and an attractive, professional-looking woman in her early fifties stepped forwards.

  ‘Ah, Ella. I thought it was you. I’m Katherine MacAvoy, the supervisor here at Camp Hope.’ Extending her arm she shook Ella’s hand warmly. ‘Do come in.’

  Inside the office was bright and clean, with a lot of white, modern furniture and chrome accents. An enormous picture window provided panoramic views of the redwoods and distant pastures beyond, and there were photographs of waterfalls and autumnal scenes on the walls. Katherine MacAvoy’s desk was bare except for an open MacBook Air, a charging iPhone and a single beige manila file with Ella’s name typed on the front.

  ‘Please.’ Sitting down at the desk, Katherine gestured for Ella to take the chair opposite. ‘You must be exhausted. I remember my own first day of training. It’s no picnic, is it?’

  She smiled but Ella didn’t reciprocate. No way was she falling for these people’s charm offensives.

  ‘I’m not interested in your training. I’m not a member of your stupid Group, OK? I came here to learn more about my parents, William and Rachel Praeger, and what they may or may not have done to my brain. That is literally the only reason I am sitting here right now. Because I was promised answers. Not because I’m buying into this, or you, in any way.’

  Katherine MacAvoy nodded calmly. ‘I understand.’

  ‘No you don’t!’ Ella snapped. ‘How could you possibly?’

  ‘You’re agitated,’ the older woman said gently. ‘Why don’t you—’

  ‘The man who contacted me, who came to my grandmother’s funeral and told me about this place … he claimed that my mother and father used to be part of your organization. He showed me a video file of my father that seemed to confirm it. He also said that my parents were scientists and that they’d …’ She searched around for the right word. ‘… edited certain parts of my brain.’

  ‘That’s right,’ the older woman assented.

  ‘I was brought up to believe that my mother and father died in a car crash in 1998. Is that correct?’

  Katherine MacAvoy met Ella’s hostile gaze with her own steady one.

  ‘It is not correct, no. But I imagine the man you met explained that to you already?’

  ‘He said my parents were murdered.’

  Katherine cleared her throat. ‘I’m afraid that’s true, Ella.’

  ‘Yes, well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t take your word for it,’ Ella hissed, as impotently furious as a trapped snake. ‘I want to see proof.’

  ‘I see. Well …’

  ‘I also want proof that it really was my parents and not you people who messed around with my brain so that I hear these goddamn … things. All the time!’ Ella banged the side of her temples with her fists. She felt as if years of repressed anger and fear and frustration were in imminent danger of bursting out of her. As if her skull might literally explode, like a grenade. ‘Because he said that too, this man. And he said coming here would help me, but it hasn’t helped me, and he promised me again last night, sending goddamn audio messages into my brain like he has some right of access, which he doesn’t, and I actually think all you people are full of shit!’ She banged her fist on the table, sending the manila folder skidding across the polished wood of the desk. Seeing her name on the front, Ella picked it up.

  ‘So this is for me, is it?’ she demanded, still furious.

  ‘It is.’ Katherine MacAvoy’s calm demeanor never wavered.

  ‘And is it proof?’

  ‘No,’ said Katherine. ‘The “proof” you’re looking for doesn’t exist, Ella. But what Gabriel told you is true.’

  Gabriel? Somehow Ella couldn’t imagine that being the man’s name.

  ‘This file,’ Katherine patted the manila folder, ‘contains a briefing document on us and our work, and some preliminary information about your first mission. I hope it answers some of your initial questions. But perhaps you should read it first and then we can talk further?’

  ‘No.’ Ella stood up, shaking her head. ‘No more. This ends here. This man – Gabriel – told me last night that if I wasn’t satisfied after my meeting today, I could leave and he would help me get back to San Francisco. So I’m leaving. Right now.’

  Katherine MacAvoy studied Ella’s face. There was no regret there, no hesitation. Only a very dangerous combination of disgust and determination. If she leaves now, we’ve lost her. She won’t come back.

  ‘How did Gabriel contact you last night?’

  Ella had already turned to leave. The question felt like an arrow in her back.

  ‘He transmitted directly to your brain, didn’t he?’ Katherine MacAvoy pressed her advantage. ‘You heard his voice internally. In your head.’

  Ella nodded grudgingly. ‘I told you. He does that sometimes. He cuts through all the other noise.’

  ‘How?’ asked Katherine. ‘Surely the only way he could do that would be if he understood the changes your parents made to your brain chemistry? Think about it, Ella. We know who you are. We understand why you’re different. Nobody else does.’

  ‘Then tell me!’ Ella roared, turning around to face her. ‘Tell me right now, today, or I will leave here and I will not come back. I want to see this Gabriel. I want him here, in person.’ She jabbed a finger down on Katherine’s desk. ‘I want him to tell me everything he knows about me and about what happened to my parents. And if he doesn’t then I’ll leave and I’ll … I’ll go to the police and tell them about this place.’

  Katherine’s expression darkened. ‘Don’t do that, Ella.’ The calm tone still hadn’t wavered, but underlying it now there was an unmistakable note of threat.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Ella’s entire body seemed to quiver with defiance.

  ‘Just don’t.’

  For a moment a heavy silence fell. Then Katherine continued.

  ‘I will request that Gabriel attend Camp Hope in person during your stay,’ Katherine went on. ‘I will also commit to providing you with more detailed, written evidence about your parents’ time with us, and specifically their last mission and the circumstances of their deaths.’

  ‘When?’ asked Ella.

  ‘I’ll need a few days. Perhaps a week.’

  ‘A week? No. I won’t stay here for a week. I can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Katherine said briskly, smiling again. ‘Young women your age pay thousands of dollars to go away on fitness retreats.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Ella. ‘And this isn’t a fitness retreat.’

  ‘You’re right. It’s much more,’ Katherine agreed. ‘The physical side of things is only a part of your training.’

  Ella let out an exasperated sigh. ‘What is the point of training me for a “mission” I’ve already told you I’m not going to be going on?’

  Katherine looked at her intently. ‘Because I believe you are a good person, Ella. A moral person. I believe you are your parents’ daughter. And, as such, once you understand the work we do, and how vital it is,’ she handed the manila envelope back to Ella, ‘I’m convinced you’ll choose to join us. Eventually.’

  Ella took the envelope in silence.

  ‘But,’ Katherine added, leaning back, ‘if I’m wrong and you don’t decide to join us, then try to look upon t
his time as an opportunity; a chance to get fit, to learn more about your abilities, to push yourself to new limits. A chance to discover your true strength, Ella.

  ‘I’d like to start by sending you to see Professor Michael Dixon. He should be able to help you right away with your headaches.’

  ‘Help me how?’ asked Ella warily, aware that once again she’d been talked around, bamboozled into staying with precious little to show for it. ‘Is he a doctor?’

  Katherine’s smile broadened till she looked positively beatific. ‘In a way.’

  ‘You can’t be a doctor in a way,’ said Ella. ‘Either you are or you aren’t.’

  ‘You’ll like him, I’m sure,’ Katherine said brightly. ‘Gordon at the front desk will show you where to go. You can see yourself out.’

  ‘You want me to meet this person right now?’ said Ella.

  Katherine looked amused. ‘Do make up your mind, my dear. I thought you were the one in a hurry?’

  Professor Michael ‘Dix’ Dixon turned out to be a tiny gnome of a man, barely over five foot tall, with a mop of wiry gray hair, a pronounced stoop and a face so wrinkled it reminded Ella of the pickled walnuts that Grandmother Mimi used to preserve in jars back at the cabin. His tiny, jet-black eyes were set deep into the sockets, like two raisins pushed too far into the dough on a gingerbread man. He wore a thick, brushed cotton shirt and knitted waistcoat that made Ella sweat just to look at them, teamed with baggy corduroy slacks and a pair of immaculately polished brogues. And when he spoke it was with an upper-class British accent straight out of Downton Abbey.

  ‘Ella Praeger! As I live and breathe.’ He looked Ella up and down appraisingly as soon as she walked into his lab, from the outside a rather nondescript, breeze-block building with a row of square, high-set windows, but inside a gleaming example of technological innovation at its best. ‘We all thought you were a myth, my dear. An urban legend. But no! Here you are, in the flesh, and come to talk to me of all people. Well I’m honored, my dear. Honored.’ Turning to a group of technicians huddled over a computer screen in the corner, Professor Dixon scowled disapprovingly. ‘For heaven’s sake. Would one of you young hooligans get Miss Praeger a chair?’