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Metal Voice chuckled. “Oh, and I should probably let you know that earlier, when I said you needed to keep still or it would detonate, I was yanking your chain. All your hysterics and theatrics were pissing me off, and that seemed to be the easiest way to shut you down. It won’t detonate if you move calmly about your daily life. That said, if you go throwing yourself down flights of stairs or off buildings in an attempt to dislodge it, or, like I said before, otherwise attempt to pry or prize it free, I cannot give you the same assurance.” This was crazy.
I kept hoping that I was dreaming or that I’d accidentally taken some kind of edibles and was actually tripping and none of this was really happening.
“Are you ready to hear the conditions?”
“Yes.” I did my best to clear my mind and listen.
“Good. Phone.”
“Huh?” I didn’t move, unsure of what I was being asked.
“Give me your goddamned phone!” I had no idea what he wanted my phone for, but knew he was up to no good. I also knew that I had no choice but to reluctantly hand it over.
“Good. We’ll give you a burner phone with our number preprogramed. When you’ve completed each task, you’ll message, and we will come and check it has been done to our satisfaction. Then, and only then, will you get the key. And remember, you’re not to contact anyone about this, not even the telco to report your phone lost or stolen. Nobody.” Such an elaborate plan just to silence little old me. It made me wonder what else they had to hide.
“First condition. Erase all details of the article you were planning on writing about us. And I do mean all traces. Backups. Backups of the backups. Your triplicate versions—portable hard drives, memory sticks, cloud storage, hard copies. Everything. And by everything, I mean research, notes, notebooks. The full nine. Any and everything that could ever possibly lead to you writing about us.” This again. I wish I’d never told Bear about the duplicates. I’d thought I was being clever and baiting him at the time, but all I’d succeeded in doing was screwing myself over.
“Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about completely wiping your internal hard drive—i.e. your brain. Believe me, if I could, I fucking would. As it is, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll develop selective amnesia where anything to do with Cygnus is concerned.” My God, he was insane. “Do you understand the condition?”
“Yes.”
“Do you agree to carry it out?”
“Yes.” I squeezed out the word through gritted teeth.
“Good. Seems you’re a quick study when you want to be.”
God, I hated him.
“Second condition. Very similar to the first. You are to get rid of all photographic evidence from that night and anything else related to Cygnus Dei. Same terms. All versions. All locations. All traces. Wipe all of your hard drives if you have to. That includes those fucking Polaroids you’ve been delivering around the place like a demented Santa. Do you understand the condition?”
“Yes.”
“Do you agree to carry it out?”
“Yes, but I can’t. Not fully, anyway. The Polaroids aren’t mine. I mean, I didn’t take them, so there’s nothing I can do to stop them.”
There was an extended silence.
Robot Voice seemed to be carefully considering this new information. Either that or he was having a microsleep or a mini-stroke. It was hard to tell given that his face was covered by the creepy mask like they were all wearing.
Speaking of the others, keeping my movement to a bare minimum, I swept my gaze around the room. There were only four of them this time, and apart from the one doing all of the talking, and the one who’d put on and removed the hood—assuming it was the same person doing both—the others seemed to be largely set-dressing. If I wasn’t strapped to an explosive device, I’d be tempted to at least try to escape. As it was, I remained stock still and rooted to the spot. I couldn’t afford to be a hero.
“Apart from the Polaroids, do you agree to carry this out?”
“Yes.”
“Smart girl.”
Fuck off and die.
“Third condition. You are to sign a sworn affidavit confirming not only your presence that night, but also your willing participation in whatever it is you think you saw.”
“But I wasn’t—”
“What you did and didn’t do isn’t important. What matters is that if we go down, you go down with us. It’s called an insurance policy. Do you agree to carry this out?”
“Yes.” My voice was scarcely above a whisper.
