Tunnels 05 - Spiral

plastic container and fished out what appeared to be a pair of small earplugs, which he passed to Will.
    Will examined them, then looked at Drake questioningly.
    “Belt and suspenders,” Drake said. “Celia and I were KO’d by a Styx subaural bomb on Highfield Common. I lost Leatherman and too many men that day. I’m not going to let it happen again.” Drake looked down for a moment. “There’ve been a couple of reports that the Styx are using similar devices in London.”
    He took a second pair of plugs from the container and inserted them into his ears. “So these are a little something I knocked up while I was at Eddie’s flat. They won’t interfere with normal frequencies, but the moment they detect a subaural bomb, they kick in. They replicate its wavelength, but out of phase. So they’ll counteract any audiosonics being used on you.”
    “They’ll protect us?” Will asked.
    “Well, you’ll still know you’ve been zapped — maybe you’ll feel some dizziness, and your vision might go a little funny — but at least you won’t black out. These plugs will protect you long enough either to skedaddle, or to neutralize the source . . . the bomb itself.”
    “Cool,” Will said as he went to slip them into his pocket.
    “No, you should get into the habit of wearing them. Put them in,” Drake said quickly. “And I’ve finished with you now, so you can lend Danforth a hand to crate up the mobile detectors over there. We need them outside, ready for pickup by our transport.”
    Will was about to ask what the transport was when Drake turned and went back to the waiting queue. With a shrug, Will made his way over to Danforth. He slowed as he passed Parry, who was on a satphone. He seemed to be employing a pass code sequence similar to the one Sergeant Finch had used when they’d first arrived at the main entrance of the Complex — Parry was quoting lines of what sounded like poetry about waking slumbering dragons, then waiting for responses from whoever he was speaking to.
    “Drake said I should help you,” Will began, announcing himself to Danforth. The Professor was so intent on the symbols scrolling down the screen, he took a few moments to look up.
    “That’s a classified government program I’ve got translating the
Book of Proliferation
. And from what I’ve read so far, it’s quite an eye-opener,” he said, tipping his head toward the screen. “The document gives an insight into one of the oldest, most resilient, and arguably most highly evolved species the world has ever known.”
    “Really,” Will said indifferently. He wanted to spend as little time in Danforth’s company as he possibly could. Chester was right — there was something incredibly unnerving about the man.
    And Will was surprised when Danforth stepped from behind the table and nearer to him, albeit making sure he wasn’t too close because of his phobia about human contact. “So you’re off to London on a wild frolic to hunt for Dark Light activity,” Danforth said, keeping his voice low. “How do you feel about that?”
    “I don’t know anything about it yet — Drake hasn’t briefed me,” Will admitted.
    “Ours is not to question why, ours is but to do or die,” Danforth said, misquoting the poem by Tennyson. “How very admirable you’re willing to throw your life away for the cause.”
    “Well . . . no . . . we’ve got to do everything we can to stop the Phase, haven’t we?” Will met the Professor’s intense pupils through his glasses, but the man didn’t answer.
    For a moment the Professor and the boy locked eyes, as if trying to delve deeper, to understand each other. In Danforth, Will again sensed something akin to Dr. Burrows’s obsessive dedication to the pursuit of new knowledge. A cold shiver passed down the length of his spine; he could almost imagine he was back with his dead father. But there was a stark difference. The Professor’s eyes were completely devoid of any warmth or compassion — no one mattered to him. No one at all. And that frightened Will.
    Danforth began to smile, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile.
    “Why — what’s wrong with the plan?” Will asked, hoping to find out more about it.
    “Well, it promises to be interesting,” Danforth said, his smile transforming into a sneer. “Look at what we’ve got here.” He indicated everyone in the Hub with a sweep of his hand. “A leftover from the Third Reich, a Styx turncoat, a man with a microwave oven in his