Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Warhead - Andrew Cartmel [107]
The suite of prefab huts which Stephanie used as her offices were located 150 metres down the sloping length of the tunnel. But even this deep it was impossible to see how much further the tunnel went. It faded away in the thick mists of evaporating runoff that glared under the harsh beams of the temporary lighting system. Stephanie unlocked the offices and flicked on the lights, leaving Mulwray outside trying to scrape the mud off his shoes and the cuffs of his suit pants. She went directly to the telephone on the nearest desk and dialled the number for O’Hara’s house.
She knew it must be a difficult day for him and she wanted to lend her support.
* * *
The signal from Stephanie’s phone travelled a kilometre via land lines, routed through the communications centre, up to O’Hara’s redwood house on the slope above the excavation site. Inside the big house the B&O home‐entertainment computer detected the incoming call and came to life.
The video sample created by O’Hara’s son was still in the memory of the machine and it was the default image for all communications. So instead of a simple telephone bell ringing, the B&O created a holographic image of Jack Blood and sent him stalking through the house, looking for the inhabitants, eager to inform them of the phone call.
The pumpkin‐headed killer strutted across the wide empty living room, the image of a jagged carving knife waving in one holographic hand and the image of an old‐fashioned telephone, presented on a silver butler’s tray, in the other.
Jack wandered the length of the silent living room, his image fading a little and the colours turning watery in the mountain sunlight as he crossed in front of the floor‐to‐ceiling picture window. He then quartered the room, exploring it carefully, empty pumpkin eye sockets scanning from side to side as he searched for someone to take the call.
Once it was clear that the living room was empty the hologram promptly vanished, only to appear in the kitchen. Projectors mounted high on the walls of the room picked up the signal from the home‐entertainment unit and projected Jack in full colour and apparent solidity, striding the tile floor between gleaming refrigerator and cooking unit. The kitchen was bare and peaceful, only a slight buzzing from the refrigerator disturbing the silence. Jack paused, standing in the quiet sunlight, then turned and strode through the wall, the projector in the master bedroom picking him up and flashing his image into the shadows as he appeared again. The blinds were down in the master bedroom and the silence was heavy. Jack stood there only for a moment before moving on to Patrick’s bedroom at the back of the house.
He prowled up and down the little boy’s room, stalking among the colouring books and crayons and computer scattered on the floor. He peered into both layers of the bunk bed but all he found was a tangle of sheets and blankets. Jack stood in the doorway of the empty closet. Finally he walked over to stand with his back to the window, the unanswered telephone still sitting on the silver tray in his rotted twig hand. His misshapen head was tilted to one side, giving an illusion of regret, as if Jack was sad that he couldn’t complete his mission.
Now Stephanie abandoned her phone call and hung up the receiver a kilometre away. The disconnect code pulsed along the wire and the B&O cancelled Jack.
Just before the hologram vanished, the tall pumpkin head did a final turn, as if giving the child’s bedroom a final survey. The computer graphics faded when he was halfway through the turn. The image froze and lingered for a moment, apparently staring out the window at the mountain slope below