And the World Changes, A M Kirk [best feel good books TXT] 📗

As you have seen, our orders are liable to change, so we have to stay loose, and stay on our toes. I don’t know myself the full picture. What use it is to take this woman, scare the boy and abandon him to the elements, is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But because we have the boy’s mother we can put a serious dent in the aliens’ plans. Any questions?”
There were none. Henderson and Johns had never felt so valuable in their lives.
“Right,” said Logan. He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to McGregor and turned the key in the ignition. “Time to move.” Throwing up a backwards spray of grit, the Jeep accelerated out of McGregor’s yard to join the southbound A85.


19 Hospital

Vague, general noise. Machinery whirring. Rotor blades? No sight. Eyes closed. Too scared to open them on a frightening world gone mad. Best not to open them.
“Are you awake?”
A man’s voice, not recognised. Not hostile, but not friendly either. And in this world gone crazy you can never be sure. Say nothing. Keep eyes closed. Safer that way.
“He’s still out.”
A warm hand takes his wrist and feels his pulse for a while. Mark becomes aware of his heart-beat and he realises that something in him is close to giving up. He will pack up, fold up the table, call the game over. He sees himself casting round, searching for a stable point in a world spinning out of control. The hand on his wrist is still warm.
Noise fades, oblivion comes again, and Mark welcomes it. This is a healing darkness, and in oblivion the incredible changes that are overtaking his unconscious mind can move all the faster.

**********
The helicopter landed at the Southern General Hospital in Glasgow and Mark was transferred to a secure private room. His dirty clothes were removed and nurses dressed him in warm pyjamas and a dressing gown and wrapped up in bed in a warm quilt, for his body was chilled. A saline drip was administered, although he struggled – almost waking - against the pricking of his arm by the needle.
“The boy sure doesn’t like needles,” muttered the nurse given the task.
Roberts used this lull, this waiting time, to call home. Sally was fine now, but Jacqueline feared it was her turn for the bug now. Her tummy was feeling queasy. When would he be home?
Soon. Soon.
“Love you both.”
“Love you too, Chris.”
He suddenly felt very tired indeed. The disturbed night and the furious activity of the day were catching up with him with a vengeance. Roberts had no sooner ended the call when the phone buzzed again. Miller’s concerned face appeared on the screen.
“I’ve arranged to meet with the Soros tomorrow,” he said. “I told them that there were a few questions we’d like to put to them about recent events. How is the boy?”
“He’ll live.”
“And his mother?”
“No word yet. I’ve got a trace out on helicopters in that area. We’ll find them.”
“I’ve had an idea about that, but I’ll tell you about it later. Can you bring the boy to Stirling Command? We have every facility here.”
“I’m afraid not. He’s not yet in a state where he can be moved. Believe me, I wish I could, but the doctors are forbidding it at the moment.”
“Right. In that case, I’m coming there. One or two things to see to here, then I’ll be on my way. Should be there for five o’clock this evening. All right?”
Roberts agreed and the connection ended. Roberts pulled an easy chair over to the bedside, and leaned back into it, relaxing his shoulders and neck. Unable to prevent it, he closed his eyes and before he knew it was fast asleep.

**********

Something has changed. Some subtle shift in perception, in capability, in understanding. Drifting, still in darkness, but aware now, aware of the darkness. Now he feels a connection. Like huge floating continents coming gently together in his mind, coastlines meet and merge, links are forged and light returns.
There are the Soros.
There is his father.
And there is himself.
Mark takes in a deep, slow breath. He is aware without opening his eyes of the vague presence at his bedside sitting up anxiously and craning forward towards him. He lets his breath out slowly.
He calls up his mind’s eye and focuses sharply on it. Images reel and swirl, indistinguishable, but finally the apparently random succession slows and slows and one bizarre image takes on definite shape. He sees a blue dolphin puttering towards him on a motorbike. The dolphin has his mother’s face. Somehow this insane image tells him what he needs to know, and he knows now she is all right. He smiles and opens his eyes.

**********

Roberts had been coming out of his doze when suddenly he became aware that the boy had woken up. He came swiftly back to full alertness, stood up and pressed the bedside switch to summon a nurse. Then, unexpectedly, a little smile flickered on the boy’s face and he opened his eyes.
Roberts was taken aback by the clarity he saw there.
“You’re awake,” Roberts said, thinking as he said it was the most useless comment possible at that moment. “Welcome back, Mark.”
Mark seemed to study the policeman, but said nothing. He turned his head toward the door and an instant afterwards a nurse bustled in.
“Well it’s about time, young fellah,” she said. “You had us a wee bit worried just for a while. Och look, who’s taken your drip out? It’s all over the floor. Well, well, maybe you won’t be needing one now. I’ll get the doctor to come in a bit to check you over.” She inspected his eyes and saw how clear they were. “Nothing wrong there.” She took his pulse. “Now, that’s what I call a pulse, and no mistake.”
“I’m hungry,” said Mark.
“Och, he talks as well. What about that, now, Inspector Roberts, does that not take the biscuit? Well, I’ll see if I can arrange for some caviar and cheese to be sent up.” She winked. “Dinner’s at five thirty – you’ll have to wait.” She bustled out.
“How do you feel?” asked Roberts, perching on the bed.
“Starving. Apart from that, a little confused about some things still, but a lot has been cleared up. I’ll be needing my clothes.”
“Who took your mother, Mark? Did you get a look at them?”
“Oh yes. Four members of the Human Freedom League organisation took her. They had a helicopter. The pilot’s name was… “ Somehow, despite the fact none of the kidnappers had used names, the name came to him – “McGregor. They headed for Killin.”
“Did you hear any other names, Mark? Anything might help us find them and your mother.”
“No, I didn’t hear any names. I need clothes. And food. Then we can talk.”
“Just one more thing, then I’ll see that you get everything you need. Do you know who General Miller is?”
“Of course. I believe he’s on his way here to see me.”
Roberts frowned, paused, and left the room. Mark in his sleep must have overheard his conversation with Miller. Roberts found a constable and despatched him to the shops in the Govan shopping precinct to pick up suitable clothing for a fifteen year old boy – jeans, a t-shirt, a fleece, cheap trainers, pants and socks: nothing outrageous, nothing expensive. He relocated the nurse and persuaded her to use all her charms on the kitchen staff to send an emergency meal to Mark’s room. Then he called Miller.
Miller was en route. He travelled in a convoy of three Jaguar saloons, himself in the middle one, with his aide, Captain Lucas. They were currently speeding on the M80 past Cumbernauld. “I’m on my way there now,” said Miller. “Be there in about thirty minutes, traffic permitting.”
Roberts returned to sit with Mark. Despite the policeman’s efforts Mark would answer no questions yet. He seemed, despite his trauma, to be a very self-assured young man. It took another thirty minutes for the food and clothing to appear. By then Mark had been examined by a doctor and pronounced fit enough to get up. Mark did so, got dressed and started wolfing down the roast beef and boiled potatoes the nurse had succeeded in procuring for him.
“Now,” began Roberts, “if you don’t mind me talking while you eat…”
Mark held up a fork. His jaw continued to chew. “There is one more thing.”
“Just one more? Are you sure?”
Mark shrugged and continued eating.
“All right. What is it?” asked Roberts.
“My girlfriend. Her name is Carrie Jenkins. What time is it?”
“Nearly five thirty. Why?”
“We may be too late. Listen carefully. The League are going to try to kidnap her too, to get another hold over me. She lives at 35 Wallace Way, in Touch. You’ve got to try to get someone to her.”
“But wait a minute. If you overheard the guys at the helicopter discussing these plans, as you obviously did, why didn’t you mention them before? Why leave it until now? Why eat first?”
Mark looked steadily at Roberts. “I’m not just leaving it until now. I just learned of it myself.” He finished his food and pushed the plate aside. “Why are you looking at me like that? You read my notes from the hotel, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but – “
“Then you must understand that something very odd is happening to me. I’m not sure entirely what yet, but it’s starting to make sense, to me at least. You’ve figured out I’m not a criminal – “
“Let’s not leap to conclusions,” interrupted Roberts. “I should tell you something Mark. You and your mother are still suspects for the explosions in Touch and Crieff. And there is a terrorist connection in your family.”
“What do you mean?”
“Before you were born, when I was still a rookie, I was involved in the arrest of your father. He was involved with a group who wanted to blow up the Scottish Parliament building.”
Mark studied Roberts’ face for a moment, then his eyes took on a far away look. “I heard about that. My mother told me.” Then Mark’s eyes focused sharply on Roberts and seemed to bore right into him, looking for something. “You let him go. Nothing was proved.”
“That’s true,” agreed Roberts, just a little surprised that Mark should know that. It had all happened, after all, before he was even thought of. “Nevertheless, a connection is a connection.”
“We’re wasting time,” said Mark. “Are you going to send someone to Carrie’s place or not?”
The confidence the boy was showing in his look and tone of voice was beginning to seem remarkable. Roberts sighed. “I will if you tell