The Legacy

Jude nodded, swivel ed round and watched as men dressed in khaki jumped out in front of the lorry, pul ing out the driver, forcing the back open. Jude felt the familiar surge of adrenalin as he watched the scene unfold – David against Goliath, Good against Evil.
    The doors were open now and Jude’s eyes were on the driver who was on the ground, two men holding him down. He looked agitated, fearful – he was shouting something. The Underground men were dragging large boxes out of the lorry; they didn’t look like the usual boxes carrying Longevity drugs. Not that it mat ered – they would be torched anyway, destroyed. The Underground would leave its message loud and clear on the side of the road.
    But as he watched the boxes being prised open Jude frowned, the lines between his eyes deepening. Something wasn’t right. The boxes weren’t cardboard, they were made of wood. The men were improvising, making tools from their guns in order to break into them. And then one was opened and Jude’s jaw dropped, and his hand moved towards his mouth, clamped over it, his eyes widening, his pulse quickening, a dark foreboding rising up within him.
    He looked up at Pip in alarm. ‘They’re not drugs,’ he said, watching bodies tumble out of the containers – dead bodies, black, shrivel ed-up bodies. The men were jumping back as they took in the horror that lay in front of them. Some were running away, others were prodding the bodies to see if they were alive.
    ‘No,’ Pip agreed, his gaze fixed to the screen, his clear blue eyes clouded suddenly. ‘No, they’re not.’
    ‘They’re like the woman,’ Jude gasped, fear gripping at his chest like strong, icy hands.
    ‘The woman? She looked like that?’ Pip asked, his voice urgent and low.
    Jude nodded. ‘Exactly the same,’ he said breathlessly.
    Pip didn’t say anything; he just kept looking right ahead at the screen.
    ‘Pip?’ Jude turned to him anxiously. ‘What does this mean? What happened to them?’
    ‘A very good question,’ Pip said gravely.
    ‘It’s Pincent Pharma, isn’t it?’ Jude said through grit ed teeth. ‘I’m going to upload this on to the Web. Tel the newsfeeds. People have to see this.’
    Pip turned to him, his eyes cloudy, and shook his head. ‘No, Jude. Now is not the time to act. Now is the time to wait.’
    ‘Wait? For what?’ Jude asked incredulously. ‘Stop pushing me away. I can help.
    We should be broadcasting this. We should be using this to let the world know that Pincent Pharma is corrupt, that it’s kil ing people! Let me be part of the fight, Pip.
    Please.’ He looked up hopeful y, desperately, his eyes passionate, his fists clenched. And for a moment, he thought Pip was going to say yes; for a moment, Pip looked like he was real y considering it.
    But then he felt himself crash down to earth as Pip shook his head. ‘A broadcast isn’t necessary or desirable, Jude. News of this wil get out eventual y, I assure you.’ He got up and started to walk away.
    ‘That’s it? That’s al you’re going to say?’ Jude asked desperately. ‘What do I say to the men? What do I do?’ He looked down miserably at his handheld device. ‘Do you even realise what I’ve got here? Are you even aware that I worked for months on this communications network? That it’s unrival ed as far as I know? Do you care that I don’t just film at acks; that because of me, you or I can speak directly to the leaders of the soldiers, send for back-up, give orders when dead bodies spil out of lorries instead of drugs? Do you?’
    He stared at Pip defiantly, angrily.
    Pip looked back at him, then nodded. ‘Of course I know, Jude,’ he said quietly.
    ‘Tens, maybe hundreds of lives have been saved because of what you have done.’
    Jude started in surprise. Pip had never so much as said thank you for the network, never seemed to show any interest in it. ‘So what do I tel them to do?’ he asked.
    ‘You tel them to go home,’ Pip said quietly. ‘And then you track the lorries back through their journeys. I want to know where they came from and where they stopped on their way. Can you do that, Jude?’
    ‘Track lorries? Sure, I can do that,’ Jude said heavily, turning back to the images and feeling his blood turn cold at the sight of them. ‘I can do whatever you want.’
    .

Chapter Four
    Richard stood at the window of his large office, looking at but barely seeing the panoramic view of London, the symbol of al his power and