The Legacy

steeled herself. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.
    Richard Pincent smiled. ‘You received a let er,’ he said. ‘I’d like it, please.’
    Margaret stared at him for a few seconds. ‘You mean it wasn’t read before I got it?
    ’ she asked flatly. ‘Surely not.’
    ‘It was checked for seditious content,’ Richard said, a smile on his face but not in his eyes. He looked strained, Margaret realised. He never looked strained. ‘But then it was given to you. Only then did anyone think to tel me about it.’
    ‘And you want me to give it to you?’
    ‘Yes,’ Richard said.
    Margaret nodded. ‘What you mean is that my room is being searched, am I right?’
    Richard shrugged. ‘You are a prisoner, Margaret. Possessions are a luxury that you cannot expect to benefit from.’
    A guard appeared at the door and nodded his head. Richard smiled and scraped back his chair, walking to the door and holding out his hand. Margaret watched tight-lipped as the guard whispered something in her father’s ear and gave him Anna’s let er. He quickly scanned it then walked back to her.
    ‘Apparently the envelope was postmarked Scotland,’ he said, leaning towards her so that she could see the fine red veins that covered his nose, the slightly enlarged pores around his eyes. Even as a child she hadn’t trusted his face, but she had also been scared of him. She’d thought she had nothing left to fear, but she’d been wrong.
    ‘He’s protected by people cleverer than you,’ she said, her voice low but the shake in it audible to them both. ‘You wil never find my son.’
    Richard sat down again. ‘Oh, but I wil ,’ he said, leaning back, a relaxed expression on his face. ‘Right now, though, I’m more interested in how you managed to write to him. To the girl. How does a prisoner of the Authorities track down two dissidents that have managed to evade the Catchers? You’ve had no visitors. So is it another prisoner? A guard?’
    Margaret said nothing.
    ‘Tel me,’ Richard said, his eyes narrowing. ‘Who took your let ers for you? Who sent them?’
    Margaret looked him right in the eye and suddenly she realised that she wasn’t afraid of him any more. ‘There are people al around the world who hate you, just as I have always hated you,’ she said quietly. ‘There wil always be people who wil fight you, who wil at ack you, who wil eventual y destroy you. And I hope that Peter is one of them. I hope he wins. So I’l tel you nothing. Not one thing.’
    Richard didn’t say anything for a few moments, then he shrugged and stood up.
    ‘Suit yourself,’ he said. ‘You were always a disappointment to me, Margaret, and it’s no surprise that you should disappoint me today as wel . We’l track down your accomplice – it won’t be hard. In the meantime, I’l suggest to the guards that they withdraw your drugs completely. No use extending your life any more, is there? You can die knowing that I remain unbeaten. That you failed, just as you have always failed. I’l send Peter your best, shal I? Tel him that your weakness failed him yet again.’
    ‘Tel him . . .’ Margaret started to say, her eyes fil ing with tears in spite of her best efforts to stop them. ‘Tel him . . .’ But it was already too late – her father had stood up and was striding back towards the door.
    .

Chapter Thirteen
    ‘Unfortunately the Underground do not appreciate the sanctity of human life, nor do they respect it. What we are dealing with here is unadulterated evil. And we wil crush it, be assured of that. The Authorities and Pincent Pharma wil not stop until these terrorists are stopped and brought to justice . . .’
    The brick came through the window at 9 a.m., three days after the Authorities had first pointed the finger of blame at the Underground. Jude heard it immediately; he’d been listening to the radio, manning the phone while Sheila caught up on some sleep. The crash sent him running to the room he cal ed his office, fearing the worst.
    The noise had come from the room that housed his computer, the only possession he truly valued, but it wasn’t the computer he was worried about this time – it was the children, six of them now, huddled on the floor. The boy he’d rescued, a girl brought here by one of the Underground guards, and four more who had been left by their desperate parents and guardians.
    He arrived to find glass on the floor, the window shat ered, the brick in the middle of the room wrapped