I've never seen his face this close up before. What strikes me most is how ordinary he is. Even as his hand tightens around my throat there's no trace of evil in his gaze. He's even dressed like a civilian: a sensible white shirt and black trousers. If you put him on a street full of normal, decent people he'd blend right in. His calm, careful ordinariness only makes him worse.
"Please," I say. And I would be disgusted with myself but I'm past caring now. If I had to beg for him to let me go I would. I would do anything but go back. "Please. Laura . . . leave her. She . . . only--"
He cuts me off with a sharp, hard slap to the face. Then he releases me and I slump back to the floor of the helicopter, gasping and wheezing for breath. I can see Laura lying with her hands tied behind her back and a sack over her head at the back of the cabin. There are a couple of Academy wardens sitting there too, rifles balanced across their knees.
Ingleman grabs the back of my jumpsuit and hauls me to my knees again, shoving me towards the curved window in the side of the small cabin. He shoves my face up against it.
"Look," he says, voice raised above the noise of the rotors. I look down. Below us is a beach, alive with activity. Men are racing back and forth, unloading boxes off the back of trucks. As the helicopter turns a little I see that they are transferring the boxes to a series of small motor launches that bob about in the shallows. I watch one of the little boats take off from the shore, heading out to sea. It's only when the helicopter completes its turn that I see where the little launch is heading.
Sitting out at anchor, maybe a quarter mile from the shore is a massive ship. I make out the hard lines of decks and chimneys, everything gunmetal grey, lit by harsh halogen floodlights. The thing is immense, built for war. Even the sight of it makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Ingleman wrenches me away from the window. "We've had to vacate our premises on the island," he sneers. "Costly, but a necessary precaution. We've already found office space in a . . . more liberal part of the world. One where our work will not be so . . . obstructed." He smiles. "Our studies will continue, little girl. I will see to that. You and your little friend, in fact, will be our first test subjects for some very experimental new procedures." He flings me away from him and I hit the floor with a thud that feels like it cracks a rib. I gasp for air. "You've cost me significantly, little girl," he says coldly, "And I intend to make you pay in full."
At that moment the helicopter lurches and Ingleman is distracted by a shouted question from one of the pilots. He turns away, and I use the opportunity to check on Laura. She's lying quite still, visibly shaking, and even over the roar of the rotors I can tell that she's sobbing behind that hood. I wish I could reach out and comfort her, but I can't. Instead I shut my eyes and try to wish myself somewhere else. Retreat, I tell myself, but it's no good. This time there's no getting away.
