Operation Hurricane: The Evan Boyd Adventures #1

by Benjamin Shaw

  Boyd twisted his shoulders and looked out of the back window. The chasing car was close and would be right on their back bumper if Harry didn’t do something soon. ‘Whatever you’re going to do, it had better work.’

  Boyd popped himself up out of the sunroof. As they got closer to the hay bales, Harry put his foot down and pulled right, skidding their car between the two high stacks, then turned another sharp right and stopped. The chasing car could travel fast in a straight line but it couldn’t make turns over the rough terrain of the field that quickly, so it was forced to take the long way around both the large stacks of hay.

  ‘Aim at the hay bales, two shots, go!’

  Boyd pointed the barrel at the far stack of hay and pulled the trigger just as the chasing car disappeared behind it. There was almost no kick from the weapon at all, but the effect out of the other end was absolutely devastating. Boyd heard a ‘WHUMP!’ and noticed his ears pop as a massive projectile of air flew at the far stack of hay, bursting some bales open and sending others crashing down onto the chasing car.

  Boyd quickly adjusted his aim, then fired at the nearest stack of bales and got the same results, sending clouds of yellow straw flying everywhere – but this time the chasing car went with them. The driver was still side-on, bringing the car around the stacks and Boyd watched as it got caught by the blast and flipped over twice.

  Boyd lowered himself back into the car, just as Harry stepped on the accelerator. He stared with surprise at the weapon in his hands.

  ‘We call it a pop gun,’ Harry said.

  ‘Of course, you do,’ Boyd said with a wry smile.

  Harry powered the car towards the exit on the opposite side of the field to where they had smashed through the hedge. The gate was open, and just inside it, Boyd could see a trailer attached to a green van. Harry slowed down, lined up the big wheels with the trailer and drove the car up straight up onto the back.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said as he jumped from the driver’s seat. He pointed to the pop gun. ‘Bring that with you.’

  Boyd saw Fitz and Azima jump out of the van and around the back of the car before he had even climbed out; neither of them acknowledged him as they leapt into action.

  ‘I’ll get the bonnet, you get the roof!’ Harry shouted to Boyd.

  Boyd gave him a puzzled look. Then he watched as Azima picked at the paintwork on his side of the car until she had a handful of the black material that covered it. She pulled it away, revealing bright racing-car colours and the names of sponsors. Boyd saw Harry doing the same on the bonnet. He jumped up onto the trailer, reached up to the roof and pulled at the corner of the black paintwork until it started to come away in his hands. He saw Azima scrunch up the black covering and run for the van, so he did the same.

  Boyd climbed in the side door behind Harry, just as Fitz and Azima climbed in the front. Ophelia pulled the van out and drove for no more than five seconds before they hit traffic. She pulled to a halt behind a mobile home pulling a stock car on a trailer. Boyd lifted his head up and saw a queue of vehicles in front, all towing cars just like theirs.

  There was a familiar sound overhead as a helicopter emerged over the horizon, seemingly scanning the area, no doubt looking for a black car carrying a man and a teenage boy. They wouldn’t find it.

  This is the Life

  Harry’s flat was tucked away in London, in a place called Notting Hill. It was a terraced house in what Harry said was called a ‘mews’; Boyd didn’t much care. It seemed like Harry wanted to talk about everything from his first undercover operation, to what type of tea Boyd wanted, or whether he liked Chinese takeaway or pizza; anything to avoid talking about how Section X planned to find Martin and Skye.

  Ophelia had driven them to an old, disused farm building on the outskirts of Bloomfield, where they split up and headed off in different directions. Ophelia told Boyd to go with Harry in his old MG sports car and they would catch up tomorrow. When Boyd had asked what they were going to do next, she had simply told him that they had to regroup and find out if anyone had survived the blast at the Barn, but it would take time. Getting Boyd out alive had been their priority.

  He had felt a surge of frustration at this. He couldn’t be any more important than Skye; he wouldn’t have got this far without her help. He didn’t lose his temper, he didn’t argue, or storm off alone; tonight, he would do whatever Ophelia asked him to. Tomorrow, he would listen to what she had to say, then quietly assess his options.

  For now, he sat on Harry’s cracked leather sofa, in a lounge that had a lot of paintings but not many photographs. Harry came in and put two over-sized teacups on a small wooden coffee table.

  ‘How are you feeling? Anything broken?’ Harry asked, settling back into a matching leather club chair with a small groan that acknowledged everything he had put his body through in the last few hours.

  ‘Nope. I’m fine,’ Boyd responded without emotion.

  ‘Right, of course you are.’

  ‘What do you want me to say, Harry? I’m just peachy. The guy who raised me and the one person who put everything she believed in on the line for me were taken by a psychotic multi-millionaire and some nut-job cult he’s involved with, and they have probably been blown to pieces in a raid that wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me. In fact, none of it would have happened if I had just gone with them in the first place and not dragged Skye into this.’

  ‘Skye was already involved. She was on the government’s radar and making all the wrong noises to get her noticed by all the wrong people. Trust me, it was just a matter of time before she got snared in their trap.’

  ‘That doesn’t help, Harry. She isn’t here now because I dragged her into my drama.’

  ‘So, tell me then, what else could you have done back there?’

  ‘I could have stayed. I could have gone to find her.’

  ‘We’ve been through this – you would have been blown to pieces.’ Harry sat forward. ‘Do you think I don’t know what you’re feeling? I’ve been right where you are, son, and I know that leaving there without them goes against everything you feel as a human being. But you didn’t have any choice. It was between everyone staying and no one getting out or making the smart play. For the first time in your life, you used your head, and now the consequences hurt like hell, but it doesn’t mean it was the wrong move. I’ve been doing this stuff a long time and those questions you’ve just asked, they never go away. If you’re a decent human being, then you’ll always question your actions. So, it’s good that you feel that pain, it’s part of this life we chose.’

  ‘When did I get to make a choice, tell me that? It’s not part of my life. I’m not like you or Ophelia bloody Bletchley. I’m going to hear what she has to say tomorrow and it had better be a plan to go back in there because I can’t leave Martin and Skye with those people.’

  ‘If I know you at all, then you will do what you have to do, son, and I respect that.’ Harry leant back against the soft leather of his chair and closed his eyes.

  A few moments of silence went by and Boyd realised that that he owed Harry something. ‘But thanks.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For risking your neck for me. I won’t forget it.’

  Harry allowed himself a smile. ‘No problem. Like I said, kid – it’s part of the life.’

  The Worst Kind of Betrayal

  Fitz woke up in his own bed for the first time in a few days and wondered for a moment where he was. He had slept like a baby. His dreams had been all about the unrelenting drama of the last few days and nights. He could barely believe that he had turned his ideas into real, working gadgets that had helped saved his friend’s life. He had got home last night still buzzing with excitement. But this morning, he couldn’t muster the same feelings. Despite his relief that Boyd was safe, he was worried about Skye; what could he do to help her? When Ophelia dropped him off at the end of his road last night, it had all felt a little final and he wasn’t sure that they would need him an
ymore. For the first time in his life, Fitz had felt like he had a purpose, like he was needed, but now it had just come to a sudden end and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  His dad had been strange with him again when he got home. Roger had been on the phone, pacing up and down in the back garden in the early hours of the morning, so there was obviously some big emergency at work. His mum seemed to believe that Fitz had gone away on a hike in Wales for his Duke of Edinburgh Award; he guessed that was a cover story of his dad’s creation, so he had just gone along with it. At least his mum was proud of him again, which always made for an easier life.

  Fitz slowly trudged downstairs, taking his stack of bowls and plates with him into the kitchen. His mum was just heading out to her office in the back garden.

  ‘Look at this, cleaning up after himself now!’ She tousled his hair. ‘Whoever you went away with, they’ve obviously had a good influence on you.’

  Fitz smiled.

  ‘Time to go and see what kind of a mess your father made in my office last night. He was working out there until all hours. The front room looks lovely by the way, thank you, Fitz.’ And she disappeared out the back door.

  The front room! The painting! He had completely forgotten about that. Fitz put the crockery down and ran back down the hallway to the front room. He pushed open the door and found beautifully painted walls, with no sign of his radio-controlled car. His dad must have covered for him again. He owed him big time – and his mum was right, it looked good. In fact, it was a better job than Fitz could have managed had he stayed at home and used a paint brush.

  Just as he was about to go and make himself some breakfast, Fitz noticed a car pull up outside – a black Range Rover. It stopped at the end of their path and someone got out. Fitz stood on tiptoes but still couldn’t see who it was over the bushes in the front garden. The gate opened and his dad started down the path; Fitz headed straight for the front door. Had he stayed in the front room, Fitz would have seen that his father wasn’t alone, as another figure exited the car and followed Roger down the path.

  Fitz’s dad opened the door and stepped into the hallway as he was greeted by his son.

  ‘Man, do I owe you some serious payback!’ he said in hushed tones. ‘Massive, huge! Maybe I need to paint the whole house or something, with a brush this time!’

  Roger moved into the house, away from the open door. ‘No, don’t be silly, it’s fine.’ He attempted a laugh, but it fell flat. His face was ashen, like he hadn’t slept in days.

  ‘Dad, are you alright?’ Fitz was suddenly concerned. He moved past his dad to close the front door, turned to face him, with his back to the outside. ‘And whose car is that?’

  Hornet stepped around the porch and into the open doorway, behind Fitz. He saw her in the hallway mirror over his dad’s shoulder. Her face was covered on one side by deep, angry scars, criss-crossed with red-raw burn marks.

  Before Fitz could move or utter a word, Hornet clasped a large hand over his mouth and his eyes exploded with fear. She raised her right hand and brought down the point of the ‘T’ on her ring, breaking the skin on Fitz’s neck. Before he could grab at the door frame, the powerful woman had dragged him away from the house, his arms and legs thrashing in desperation. But his eyes didn’t move from his father. Roger stood inside the doorway, his face down, unable to look at his son.

  Fitz was unconscious by the time Hornet reached the gate. She closed it carefully, carried the boy to the Range Rover and laid him down on the backseat. She then smoothed her leather suit, climbed into the passenger seat and gave Bull the signal to pull away.

  Without looking outside, Roger Tork closed the front door.

  Call me Six

  Harry had taken Boyd to the Toy Shop and Ophelia had filled him in on everything they knew about the Trinity Guild and Lord Ravensbrook. Boyd then explained Martin’s version of events and Ophelia, ever the spy, was sceptical that he had done what he did for Erica Adler.

  ‘There’s one way we can find out,’ Boyd said. ‘We can go back in there and get them – him and Skye.’

  They were sitting in a room away from the main operations centre. Harry had led Boyd through a door and up a rusted metal staircase to a glass office where Ophelia was sitting behind a desk; Boyd and Harry were now sitting opposite her.

  Ophelia looked at Harry. ‘Could you give me a moment with Six, please?’

  Harry stood up and left the room.

  ‘Six?’ Boyd tilted his head. ‘That’s the second time you’ve called me that.’

  ‘Yes, we were hoping you’d join Section X, and we know that Six is the number you wear when you run and play football.’

  ‘Well, you have done your homework. It’s actually the day I was supposedly born on, but for some reason I’m now having trouble believing anything I thought was true.’

  Ophelia had a file in front of her, she closed it. ‘No, from what we can gather, your birth date is genuine.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s a relief,’ Boyd said sarcastically. ‘Alright if I go now? Get back to my life?’ He stood and half turned away. ‘Whatever’s left of it.’

  ‘Tell me, Boyd, do you plan to stop whining anytime soon? To stop being such a child?’

  ‘I am a child! That’s kind of my point!’

  Ophelia considered him for a moment. ‘You’re right. Your life, the one you knew, is over. What you do now is up to you, but the job’s not done. Getting you out was just the first step. Finding Martin and Skye – Harry and Barnaby can do that. It’s what they’re good at. You’re needed for something else.’

  Ophelia stood up and walked around the desk. She sat on the edge of it, in front of Boyd. ‘Did you actually listen to what I said about the Trinity Guild? They won’t stop, Boyd, not until they have everything they want, and we can’t let that happen.’

  ‘They made me who I was then, and they made me who I am now. I’m going after my friend and I’m going to use that against them.’

  ‘And if Skye is dead and you’re walking into a trap?’

  ‘Then I’ll take them all down.’

  ‘Revenge? That’s your grand plan? You go in there alone and they’ll just rebuild whatever you knock down. Whoever you take out, they’ll just find someone stronger, quicker, faster. You’ll have achieved nothing.’

  ‘So what? Join Section X?’

  Ophelia picked up a black control, clicked it and pointed him towards a TV screen in the corner of the room. ‘If you won’t do it for me, do it for her.’

  Boyd turned to the TV. A woman appeared on screen. She was in her early forties, with blonde hair and soft features. Boyd immediately recognised Miranda Capshaw. The image was a warm sepia and there was a whirring sound like Boyd had seen with old-fashioned movies on projectors. The picture broke up a couple of times before she started talking.

  ‘Evan, I don’t have a lot of time.’ She swallowed hard and looked down, steadying her nerves. ‘I wish I could see your face, I wish I could tell you everything you need to hear. I can’t imagine how all over the place you must feel. Just know, you are special, my boy. You have something inside you that makes you different.’ She nodded and smiled. ‘You know what I’m talking about, don’t you.? You’ve felt it from time to time. I know because I have it too.’ Miranda laughed nervously.

  Boyd realised that the voice he heard in his dreams, the woman who called his name when he slept, was Miranda Capshaw. His pale blue eyes fixed on her face and he felt like she was right there in the room.

  ‘All you need to know for now is that it will help you be strong for what’s ahead. So I need you to do two things – find this,’ Miranda held up a Casio digital watch.

  Boyd instinctively reached down and touched the watch on his wrist – the watch Martin had given him – and he hadn’t taken off.

  ‘Now, this bit is going to take a leap of faith, it’s going to sound crazy, but I promise you, it’s not just the truth, it’s your destiny. Inside these watches, I placed something very un
ique, called a Sutter Clock. This allows you to focus the energy of a wormhole to an exact date and time in the past and, because you’re special, you can jump to it. I have a friend, a woman called Rose, and I need you to meet her. You see, there’s something I need to do, but I can’t do it on my own.’

  She sat forward and stared intently.

  ‘There are dark forces gathering – they are going to follow me here and I need your help. Find Rose in Paris, in 1986. I’ve sent some written instructions in the package I left for Harry Lazenby, but the truth is I don’t even know if you’ll get this message.’ A tear escaped and slowly slid down her cheek.

  ‘Oh, my boy. I wish… I wish I could have seen you grow up. I am so sorry this has all landed on you. I hope you’ll see one day that I had to disappear to keep you safe, though I’m not sure that worked out very well. You can hate me, you can blame me, but for now, Section X needs you. Someone always has to save the world, and I’m afraid that this time, it has to be you.’ A sudden noise broke the silence and Miranda snapped her head around. ‘I have to go, I’ve run out of time – maybe you can bring me some more, please, Evan. I love you.’

  The screen turned from sepia to white and the room was filled with a whirring sound as the film ran out. Ophelia clicked the remote and switched off the TV. Boyd took a moment, still facing away from Ophelia. She saw him reach up and wipe his face with his sleeve.

  ‘Miranda Capshaw is my mother.’ His voice cracked. He coughed and then turned to face her. ‘My mum is Erica Adler, that’s why they were chasing her and this…’ he held up the watch on his wrist… ‘this is how she disappeared.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘When did she leave this for Harry?’

  ‘She left it with a courier more than 30 years ago, with instructions to deliver it to Harry – yesterday. All this time you’ve felt out of place and this is why – this is who you really are. Now, I know it’s a lot to take in and it’s a lot to ask, but you heard her – we need you. Personally, I’m not sure you’re ready for it and I’m damn well sure you’re not up to it. You’re no more than a child and you let your heart rule your head most of the time. But Harry tells me you’re a fast learner. He also says you’re colder than a penguin’s arse and as hard as an anvil, and I happen to trust Harry Lazenby implicitly. In this case, I have little choice.’