Page 37 of Savage Protector

Give me your hand.”

I obey, and he places my index finger on the clasp. “Feel it? That tiny flower, slightly raised up?”

“Isn’t that just to open it?”

“No. Only my key does that. Press on the flower.”

I do as I’m told, and the necklace starts to beep. “How on earth…?” I let go immediately. “What was that?”

He gets his phone out and shows it to me. The beeping is coming from the device, not my necklace, and the screen is flashing. “The button activates an alarm that’s connected to my phone.” He taps a couple of buttons. “And it’s a tracker, too. See?”

He turns the phone around, and I see a red dot. He zooms out to reveal more background. It’s a map of Caraksay, and the dot is right in the middle of the island.

“There’s a What Three Words reference as well,” he adds. “Foolproof.”

“But, why…?” I’m baffled and more than a little overwhelmed.

“Call it additional insurance. You’ll always be wearing this necklace, and now, if anything goes wrong, if you need help, just press that button and I’ll know. And I’ll find you. It’s Wi-Fi enabled, so the range is limitless. And the metal is toughened in case anyone tries to remove it by force, which would activate the alarm automatically. I gather there are muggers, even in Stirling.”

I simply stare at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

“What about? Our unfinished business, or my sudden rush of caution?”

“Both.”

“Then say nothing for now. Just be safe and become a doctor. This is your time. You have dreams, go out and get them.”

“I…thank you.”

His smile is dazzling. “You’re welcome,may-ri-jaan.”

9

Leila

Two years later…

“Miss Mansour,if we could trouble you for your attention? Just briefly?”

The sarcastic tone of Professor Evans cuts into my daydream. Or should that be my waking nightmare? The intricacies of biochemistry are challenging enough without distractions, and yesterday’s startling discovery in my email inbox is most definitely a distraction.

I thought it was an advert at first.We see you, the title line announced. I almost sent it straight to my junk folder. I wish now I had.

“Miss Mansour?” Professor Evans continues. “Perhaps you could remind the group of the structure and principal functions of proteins and the likely outcomes of protein misfolding?”

I gape at him helplessly. “I…I…”

“Quite.” The professor puts me out of my misery. “I look forward to receiving your essay on that precise subject by this time tomorrow. And now, if we may continue? And is there some chance, however remote, that we might be further blessed by your undivided attention?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I murmur. “Yes, of course.”

He resumes his lecture, and I make a renewed effort to appear interested.

My coffee goescold on the low table in front of me. I’m between lectures, in the student refectory, surrounded by the chatter of other medical students. The talk is of the upcoming toxicology exam which no one expects to pass, despite it being essential if we are to progress to clinical practice on the wards. But I’m completely tuned out. I get out my phone for what must be the millionth time and scowl yet again at the image I received by email yesterday morning.

It’s a picture of me, letting myself into the house in Stirling. I’m pretty sure it was taken from just across the street, solid proof that someone is watching me. Someone close.

They know where I live.

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