A spotlight shone on Clairbourne. He tried to shield his eyes with his hand, but it was too bright, he squinted and blinked furiously.
"For the record, could you please state your current role?"
Clairbourne's head moved from side to side, trying to locate the person asking the question.
"Who, are you? How dare you do this to me? Have you any idea who I am?"
"Answer the question, Mr. Clairbourne please."
"Mr. Mr! I'm Professor Clairbourne and you will address me in the correct manner, do you hear?"
"Mr. Clairbourne, we do not recognise or acknowledge any terms or titles which could directly or indirectly both elevate your position or demean the position of others. Now, answer the question. What is it that you currently do for on behalf of Michael Briggs's government?"
"I'm not telling you anything," Clairbourne smirked and stood up, brandishing a clenched fist.
"I strongly urge you to sit down, Mr. Clairbourne."
The last sentence had an incendiary effect. Clairbourne began to rant and rave, spittle flying through the air, glistening in the spotlight. He paced around the chair, his language as colourful as the bruising around his right eye. However he wasn't so lost to his rage that he didn't hear the click of a handgun being cocked.
He stopped and stood wide eyed. For the first time since he'd been brought downstairs, he looked scared.
"I will ask you to sit down for the last time, Mr. Clairbourne." The enunciation of the word, Mr was mocking and confrontational. "I strongly recommend you do just that."
Clairbourne rubbed at his wrists, the red chafing from recent bindings very apparent. Without further a word, he sat down.
"Your role, Mr Clairbourne?"
Clairbourne sighed, closed his eyes and lowered his head. "My current role is Lead Scientific Officer", he began. "I advise General Briggs of current and proposed scientific policy."
"Thank you. Is it true that you also hold responsibility for the SPR process and therefore the systematic degradation and debasement of the majority of this country's population? Isn't that so, Mr. Clairbourne?"
"What? No, no, that's not true at all. The SPR system allows our government to manage our limited resources very effectively. Without such a system, where would we be?"
Amelia Dexter laughed. "Indeed, Mr. Clairbourne, where would you be?"
Clairbourne shifted in his seat.
"So, Mr. Clairbourne, I would now like to know about Briggs's plan to raise the Flawed threshold. What can you tell me about that?"
Clairbourne squirmed in his seat this time. "I'm sorry...err... I don't understand what you mean."
"Come, come, Mr. Clairbourne. Are you telling me that someone of your importance, your stature in this government doesn't know of this great plan? Surely, you would be at the forefront of this, considering how important the management of our country's resources are."
"I...I may have heard something, but I've forgotten ..."
"Would you like us to help you remember?" Amelia interrupted.
Clairbourne's eyes showed he would not.
"Very well," he sighed, "General Briggs decided that the Flawed level is to be raised to eighty-five. To be honest, I don't really see the need, but he insists. He said that because of that Hannah girl being so damned perfect, we should be working on ways to improve our general level of perfection and that raising the bar will help do just that, amongst other things."
"What other things?"
"Um... just improved healthcare, that type of thing."
"What other things, Mr. Clairbourne? Is it true under your leadership that clinical trials have begun using genetic material from Hannah Page, formally Hannah Green?"
Hannah jumped up out of her chair, only to be pulled back down again by Scott who was sat beside her. Scott shook his head and held his hand out to silence her. Her father, who was seated on the other side in the darkened corner of the room, gave her hand a squeeze.
Clairbourne looked floored. "How could you possibly even know about that? There are only ten people who know about that."
"And is it true that you will begin to test on Flawed foetuses in the near future?"
Hannah felt bile rise up in her throat and she leapt up from the chair and ran out of the nearest exit. She found an old waste paper basket in the nearby office and threw up into. Once empty and drained, she slid down onto the floor.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you first or at least warn you," Scott walked over to her slowly. "I didn't think she would just blurt it out like that."
Hannah wiped her mouth against her sleeve. "Is it true?"
"Yes."
"But why?"
"...Because according to Clairbourne's test, Hannah, you're perfect. They are using you as a genetic blueprint."
"But if it works then there would be no more Flawed, so why bother raising the level?"
Scott sighed. "They won't be trying to make every baby perfect, Hannah. They aren't going to offer this kind of service to the Flawed, but they'll sure as hell test it out of the Flawed. What people seem to confuse is that Briggs doesn't want to abolish the Flawed; he merely wants to control them. After all, you can't be perfect if you've nothing to compare yourself against."
"So, are there any more sickening little revelations waiting for me to hear as a result of your heart to heart with Amelia and Bill? You were in there for four hours!"
Scott shook his head. "No, Hannah there is nothing else. For almost all of that time I was spent trying to convince them not to shoot me and that I am on your side and not Briggs. We had better get back."
Hannah and Scott quietly re-entered the room and took their seats. The conversation had moved on considerably.
"It will be interesting to hear what Briggs does to you when he finds out that you were once in cahoots with Charles Eastman."
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, we would."
"But he'd kill me."
"Oh, not straight away, I'm sure."
Clairbourne put his head into his hands. "Do I have any choice at all?"
"Choice, Mr. Clairbourne, of course. Either you live by helping us or you die by helping Briggs. I'd say that's a pretty profound choice you have there, wouldn't you?"
The van pulled up inside the loading bay. Hannah hugged her father and then Tucker. Leaving them behind was going to be the hardest thing of all, but they had important jobs to do nearer the time. Plus reports of Tuckers death would help support all of their stories when they got back.
"Time to sit down, Hannah, Diana." Scott walked over to the chairs that were placed next to Clairbourne who was bound and gagged already. Diana sat down first looking absolutely terrified, but she had sworn in those first few hours of being reunited with Hannah, that she would do anything to make her daughter happy. If this is what it took, then so be it.
Scott bound her wrists and ankles to the chair. He placed a gag over her mouth and a covering over her eyes. Hannah was next to sit down. She gave a last wave to the people that remained in the old factory: her father, Tucker, Amelia, Bill and Nathan.
"I will protect you Hannah. I promise," he whispered into her ear as he finished tying the scarf around her eyes.
Finally, Scott sat on the chair closest to Hannah's and allowed Bill to tie him up as well. The wrist restraints were pulled tightly and Hannah could hear Scott take a sharp intake of breath. Bill might just have about accepted Scott, but there was to be no friendship there.
"Okay, we're leaving. Good luck."
Hannah heard the van drive out and the roller door come back down. The engine then disappeared into the background and all they had to do was wait. The wail of the sirens came soon enough and within just a few minutes she was returned to Briggs's perfect world, but this time they had a plan. She couldn't wait to find Zeke and tell him all about it.