One Last Chance

Chapter 17

13 years ago....

The computer gave off a bluish glow onto the surrounding walls. The clickety-clack of the keyboard keys echoed in the otherwise empty room. A single lightbulb threw off a dim yellow light, occasionally flickering.

The man sat in front of the computer. He inserted a microchip in a hidden slot and opened a special programme, entered a password, and, cracking his knuckles, began his job.

First, he dragged up a spreadsheet. Glancing at a scrap of paper, he keyed in the two strings of numbers, before double-checking they were correct. He pulled up a second programme, and entered the same numbers. A map of the country appeared, before zooming in until houses, trees and streets could be seen in detail.

One particular spot was circled in red, and blinked twice. The man smiled, closed the programme, and saved the spreadsheet he had opened earlier and pulled out the microchip from the computer. Placing it safely in his wallet, he hurried out of the room without bothering to shut down the computer.

*****************

The hospital loomed out of the early morning darkness, its buildings awashed with light. It was not quite 6am yet. The man clambered out of his car, and hurried in. He headed straight for the Operating Theatre, at the very heart of the hospital.

The Operating Theatre was almost ready. Inside, it was a beehive of activity, with surgeons and nurses in green sterile scrubs moving around. Trolleys were wheeled into specific postions, each boasting an array of surgical instruments- scalples, knives, syringes, sterile cotton buds, alcoholic swabs, scissors, thread and needle; the list went on.

And then they were ready. They only required two more things for the operation to begin. One, of course, was the patient. The second, came from a wallet.

The patient was brought in. The Head Surgeon gently lay him on the hard metal table, then placed a mask over the patient's mouth and nose. The patient wouldn't be waking up for the next twelve hours.

The man handed the microchip over and stepped out of the Operating Theatre. The doors swung shut and a red light blinked on above it.

Inside the Theatre, the Head Surgeon chose a scapel from a trolley. It gleamed in the light for just a moment, before it came down and sliced skin, drawing fresh, red blood out.

This was not your average surgery. Firstly, the patient was only ten months old. Secondly, this type of surgery was fairly new, and the surgeons weren't exactly familiar with the procedure. It was an implant. And lastly, it was to implant a microchip into the baby. The baby's head.

There was a neat cut down the baby boy's right temple, just about an inch long. The Head Surgeon stopped, beckoned for the microchip and carefully encased it in a special toughened plastic before gently inserting it into the boy's head. When that was done, the Head Surgeon pulled off his blood-slicked latex gloves and signaled to his colleagues to take over, to stitch the cut close.

Within thirty minutes, the boy was lying in a bed in a children's ward, his head neatly bandaged. The nurses were specially instructed to not allow anyone near him. As soon as he woke up he would be taken home. The nurses attending to him were mystified at this request, but they didn't ask questions. They never did.

Later that evening, the man came to take the baby boy away. The conspicious white bandage was removed and replaced with a single plaster. Barely an hour passed before he and boy stepped into the empty house did two policemen came knocking on the door.

Opening the door with one hand, the other rocking the boy to sleep, the man answered the door.

They shoved their IDs in his face, telling him that he was wanted for questioning related to a major robbery, and would he choose to do it here in his house or at the police station?

Here in his house, he replied.

So the policemen stayed late into the night, asking him questions. At last when they finally left, it was almost midnight. As they got off the sofa and headed for the door, one policeman queried, "What's the baby's name?"

The man hesitated for a moment, "Daniel. My son's name is Daniel."