The Legacy

it behind them.
    Peter felt a sense of foreboding as he was finally taken to a lift linking the reception area to the rest of the building. It was a terrifying plan, walking into Pincent Pharma and asking to see his grandfather, but he wasn’t sure what the alternative was. And Jude was right: if his grandfather really needed the ring, then Peter would be safe. If his grandfather really needed the ring, they could name their terms.
    He remembered the first time he’d been here, remembered trying his best not to be blown away by the whiteness, the newness, the sheer scale of the place. Now it felt different, it felt like a terrifying prison, the last bastion of an emperor who was losing his empire. Gone was the busy flurry of white coats; now fewer people could be seen, all walking with their heads down. Guards were everywhere, their grey uniforms reminding Peter of the corridors of Grange Hall; it was a colour that sucked out all joy, all life.
    The guard who had been sent to meet him in reception had taken him into a small room and searched him comprehensively, stripping him of his clothes, of his dignity. Now, finally, he was being taken to his grandfather, the man he despised, to the man he wished more than anything he wasn’t related to.
    The lift felt slow – too slow, but eventually they reached the fifth floor and stepped out on to the luxurious carpet that covered Richard Pincent’s suite.
    His office door, a few metres away, opened and he appeared, the thin smile on his face not disguising the bags under his eyes, the strain, the exhaustion.
    ‘Peter,’ he said, walking towards his grandson.
    ‘I’ve come for Pip,’ Peter said levelly. ‘I know he’s here. I want you to let him go. Now. With me.’
    Richard said nothing for a few seconds, then he laughed. ‘And the ring? I understand you don’t have it.’
    ‘You’ll have the ring when Pip is free. And the Surpluses,’ Peter said, his voice wavering slightly with emotion.
    ‘I’ll have the ring now or Anna will die, do you hear me?’ his grandfather said suddenly, his face going red. ‘She will die and the Surpluses will die. Slowly. Painfully. And you will watch them suffer. They will die knowing that you didn’t save them.’
    ‘You don’t know where Anna is,’ Peter said levelly. ‘Don’t throw empty threats at me.’
    ‘I don’t know where they are?’ Richard smiled coldly. ‘No, Peter. It seems that you are the one who doesn’t know where they are. They are here. Derek brought them here. I only discovered them this morning – can you imagine what a delight that was?’
    He laughed as the blood drained from Peter’s face.
    ‘You’re lying,’ Peter seethed. ‘You’re lying.’
    ‘You are a fool,’ Richard said, shaking his head. He moved forward, grabbed Peter by the shoulders. ‘Get me the ring, Peter,’ he shouted. ‘Get me the ring now.’
    Peter stared resolutely ahead. ‘You don’t have them,’ he repeated. ‘I know you don’t.’
    His grandfather let go of him. Then he walked back to his desk and picked up his phone. ‘Bring the girl up. The Surplus girl and her Surplus progeny,’ he said, his lip curling with distaste as he spoke. He turned back to Peter. ‘We’ll see whether you’ll have nothing to say when the baby is killed,’ he said darkly. ‘We’ll start with the smallest, shall we, and work our way up?’
    Peter swallowed uncomfortably. In his pocket was the bleeper Jude had given him for emergency; silently he pressed the button. Jude would hear it; Jude would come.
    Please, Jude , he thought silently. Please don’t let me down.
    Jude didn’t notice the flashing light on his handheld device; he was too busy orienting himself, working out which way to turn. They were in a vast, bleak corridor, too visible, too vulnerable; they had to get to their destination quickly.
    It was the smell that had made him freeze momentarily. A smell of scrubbed floors, of disinfectant. Sheila smelt it too and he felt her stiffen with fear. He hadn’t feared coming back until now, hadn’t really understood what it would mean to be back inside Pincent Pharma, inside the centre of Richard Pincent’s power base, the prison where Sheila had been kept. But the smell brought memories back more vividly than anything else, reminding him how dangerous this place was, how sinister. He took her hand and squeezed it; she gripped it hard.
    ‘You ready?’ he asked.
    Sheila nodded.
    ‘OK. This way,’ he said,