Free Black Mountain by Greig Beck Page A

was too easy , Adira thought, as she pushed out through the doors of the nondescript building and inhaled the scents of the street. There was a hint of citrus on the air; she liked it. Tel Aviv was small, but modern and centralised – a pool of highrises, expensive shops and perfect streetscapes surrounded by parkland, gentrified neighbourhoods and beautiful beaches. She was part of the only real democracy in the entire Middle East and it made her proud. It is a jewel worth protecting , she thought, as she went lightly down the steps. She knew her uncle was just as determined to understand Alex Hunter as she was – they just had differing ideas on how to go about it. In addition, she cared only about Alex. Her uncle wanted a thousand like him.
    Adira chewed her lip as she walked quickly. She hoped her uncle had agreed so readily to her request because he had confidence in her. But her time was limited, and Alex’s memory loss presented her with a dilemma – there were some things she wanted and needed him to remember, but there were other memories she didn’t want him to recover at all. She had no idea whether his full memory would seep back in time, or whether he would be forever a clean slate. The latter presented an opportunity to implant a whole new mosaic of memories, to create an entire matrix of suggestions – ones she wanted him to have. The trick was for her to get enough information from him to satisfy the general and her objectives, but not to open him up so much that she could lose him back to the Americans.
    She hurried down the street, feeling the bite of the afternoon heat on her neck. She would take him out of the city, she decided. Somewhere comfortable and relaxing – she knew the perfect place. She smiled. In a week or two, she bet she could coax the answers from him. Her smile broadened; she hadn’t felt like this in years.

EIGHT
    Hickory, North Carolina
    ‘Will . . . Will! ’
    Big Will Jordan jerked upright as he heard his mother scream his name. All the Jordan brothers made it their duty to help their folks on weekends with the heavy chores now the pair were getting on. This Saturday it had been his turn. The old folks were as mellow as they came, but his mother’s tone now worried him. It spoke of shock, anxiety and not a little fear. Last time he’d heard her like that was when Hank got busted up in a car crash. He dropped the axe he was using, but hung onto a good-sized lump of splintered wood, and sprinted for the back door.
    His father stood at the sunroom window, his back turned and a whisky in his hand. It was way too early for the old man to be drinking. Will’s mother paced back and forth. On seeing him, she wiped her hands on her dress, gripped his shoulders and looked up into his broad face.
    ‘That was the Asheville police. It’s Brad, he’s missing.’
    ‘What? But he’s –’
    His mother didn’t let him finish. ‘They found Amanda; she’s hurt.’ Her lips trembled and the word hurt came out long and filled with anguish.
    ‘Have they –’
    His father turned. ‘Nope; not even started looking yet.’
    His father could do that: read his sons like an open book.
    His mother wrung her hands some more. ‘He’s up on the mountain by himself . . . and I read about a lion escaping. I thought it was funny at the time.’ She crossed herself, as though asking forgiveness for a sin, and turned back to Will. ‘Leave it to them, they said, they’ll keep us informed.’ She shook her head. ‘Brad’s not as strong as you boys; he’s . . .’ She put her hand over her mouth.
    Will felt a flash of anger at the police inactivity. He knew that Brad was their mother’s favourite – they used to rib him about it when they were young. Where he, Jackson and Hank were big blocky men of average intelligence, Brad was still big but finer-featured; more of a thinker, his mother used to say.
    Will put his arm around his mother’s tiny shoulders, and felt her trembling. He asked