by Chris Lofts
‘But how will we get onto the hyperlink?’ Wheeler said, taking a grey fedora from the top shelf of his wardrobe. ‘If we can’t scan in.’
Helix pulled on his gloves. ‘I’ll scan us through,’ he said, touching each of the tips of the fingers on his right hand against his thumb. ‘Borrowed identities.’
Wheeler raised his eyebrows. ‘And retina scans?’
‘Who do you want to be?’ Helix mimicked Wheeler’s wink. He had as many retina options as fingerprints. ‘Listen, Wheeler. This isn’t exactly my first rodeo.’ He zipped up his coat. ‘And I don’t have time for your questions. Just do as I tell you and try not to lose your head.’
Wheeler rubbed at his neck and turned up the collar of his coat.
Helix took two spare clips of smart ammo for his P226s and four multi-mode grenades. He left Sofi with the Glock concealed in her coat pocket. They needed to blend in. The bergen wouldn’t help with that. It had to stay. If he needed anything else, there was a grab bag stashed in a luggage locker at each of the hyperlink terminals in London.
The AV Sofi had borrowed was comfortable, designed for human transportation. Maintenance and security outside city limits was handled by bots or drones and they weren’t concerned with creature comforts.
A pack of feral dogs, attracted by the remains of the two unknowns, scattered as the AV swung into the car park. A murder of crows or ravens gathered along the ramparts waiting for their chance, rendered more sinister by the brooding clouds that massed overhead. The door of the AV slid open as the three passengers jogged down the path, hands on hats and hoods, shoulders hunched against the weather. The showroom-new odour of warm plastic greeted them as they slid inside. Wheeler and Sofi took the back seat, Helix the pull-down opposite. He toggled the window switch, rendering the glass transparent. He wasn’t concerned about being seen from ground level but if Ormandy had deployed anything overhead he wanted to see it.
Eight minutes later, buffeted by the wind, the AV weaved its way across the Severn bridge. Wheeler’s fidgeting and rubbing of his neck increased with the passing of each mile. Helix flicked his eyebrows at Sofi.
The ring of glass and steel around Bristol served the same purpose as that around each of the cardinal cities. Hidden behind the AV glass, restored to its opaque state, software Sofi navigated through a separate gate reserved for military and maintenance use. Negotiating the maze of guideways, she avoided the agribots as they swarmed amongst the vegetation tending their green charges. A coded service door brought them out onto the street where they abandoned the AV and hailed a taxi for the hyperlink station at Temple Meads.
Helix ordered the taxi to stop at the bottom of the station approach, knowing camera surveillance would be clustered around the bottle neck of the station entrance. Using one of his stolen identities he pressed his fingertip to the payment terminal and joined Wheeler and Sofi on the pavement amongst the other passengers and holo-ads.
‘Remember, hats down, collars up, eyes towards the—’ He flinched towards the sound of approaching sirens. ‘Shit! What’s that all about?’ Assessing the threat, he counted three ambulances and two police AVs speeding towards the imposing mock-Tudor station entrance.
‘An incident inside the station,’ Sofi reported. ‘They’re not for us.’
Not taking any chances, Helix ushered them through a metal gate into an alleyway. ‘Move your arse, Wheeler, for fuck’s—’
‘Justin. What’s wrong,’ Sofi said catching his arm as he stumbled.
They’d both grown tired of Wheeler’s constant prodding at his neck but the egg-shaped protuberances now bulging from the sides of his throat were difficult to ignore. He slumped to the ground, his eyes rolling back.
‘What the hell’s going on, Sofi?’ Helix said.
‘It’s the dog collar,’ she replied. ‘I can’t access it.’
Helix loosened Wheeler’s tie and gave him a slap. Wheeler coughed and retched.
‘They’ve taken it down,’ Sofi said. ‘The entire system. The devices are trying to handshake with the server but it’s not responding.’
‘I thought these things had better resilience and backups. Does it detonate after a number of failed attempts to establish a connection?’ Helix asked, poking his fingers into Wheeler’s neck.
‘They do, unless someone wants to take the whole thing offline for a reason.’
‘The swelling’s reducing.’ He gave Wheeler another slap. ‘He’s coming round.’ Pulling him to his feet, he handed him his hat.
Wheeler blinked, pressing his fingers to his neck. ‘They’re gone,’ he said, checking both sides. ‘I thought—’
‘Stop thinking and start walking,’ Helix said, ducking through the gate. ‘Ormandy’s taken the system offline. I can still put a bullet in you though, so don’t get too comfortable.’ He checked over his shoulder to make sure Sofi was following. ‘On the plus side, it creates a diversion for us.’ Stepping through the main entrance, he counted three clusters of concerned onlookers, police and paramedics, helping others to their feet on the busy concourse. Fingers were pressed to necks, nods of reassurance administered. ‘You’re obviously not the only one getting a stay of execution,’ he muttered to Wheeler as he scanned them through the gate to the London platform.
‘I don’t understand,’ Wheeler said. ‘How could they be inside the city?’
‘The tags are configured according to the gravity of the misdemeanour. The punishment for breaking parole rules or curfew is the same as entering the city when you’re not welcome. Now, move it,’ he said, shoving Wheeler forward.
29
20 Hours
Helix loitered at the threshold of the red and silver hyperlink pod until the door closing signal sounded. His presence had discouraged anyone from attempting to fill the fourth seat for the fifteen minute journey to Paddington. With the pod sealed in an unlit vacuum there were no windows because there was nothing to see. Motion was minimal save the gentle but relentless acceleration as the bullet-shaped pod reached its cruising speed of 400 miles-per-hour. Three minutes out, the gentle pressure of the seatbelts as the pod decelerated heralded their arrival in London.
Helix squeezed Sofi’s hand causing the AI to open her eyes. The gentle kiss she’d given him before pretending to nap had caused an eruption of winks from Wheeler’s eye whereupon he’d titled his hat over his eyes and pretended not to notice. Sofi had passed the time analysing data and monitoring communications, streaming her thoughts to Helix. The net was quiet, Ormandy was playing ball.
The lift deposited them on the arrivals concourse that offered two levels of shops, dining and other ways to waste money and time. Artificial sunlight streamed from the roof, casting dappled shadows through the synthetic sub-tropical foliage. Colourful birds flitted between branches too high to tell if they were real or holographic.
Helix paused, scanned around and nodded to Sofi. ‘We need to collect some things from the left luggage and get out of here,’ he said, slipping his sunglasses from the top of his head. ‘You don’t see police or security at terminals unless they’re looking for somebody. Looks like we’re OK. For now.’
‘Justin Wheeler?’ a man’s voice said from behind them.
Helix turned around, putting himself between Wheeler and the holo-ad. ‘I told you to keep your eyes down.’ The hologram of a nameless celebrity who was no doubt getting a hefty kickback, shimmered and pixilated as Helix brushed it aside. ‘Unsubscribe and forget,’ he ordered, unsure if the latter part would be enough to stop any flags being raised. He grabbed Wheeler by the arm and dragged him towards a bank of luggage lockers.
‘Eyes right,’ Sofi said.
Helix glanced over his shoulder. ‘Bollocks.’ Two police officers stomped their feet as they stepped in through a side entrance and out of the rain. It was too soon to be anything other than a coincidence. Or was it? ‘Keep an eye on them,’ Helix said, ushering Wheeler into a cul-de-sac between two rows of lockers. At the end of the row, he pressed his thumb o
n a small panel. The door released with a click and a pair of brushed aluminium cases rolled into the aisle. He turned to Wheeler. ‘Stay in front of me and keep—’
‘Yes, Major. Keep my eyes down. Understood,’ he sighed. ‘Where are we heading?’
‘Out of the main entrance,’ Helix said, glancing over Wheeler’s shoulder. ‘Straight across and take the first on the left through the arch.’
The two cases followed at Helix’s heel, like two well behaved dogs. Emerging from between the lockers he paused and located the two police officers standing at a coffee bar, nursing steaming drinks while staring up at the rolling news on a large TV screen. Satisfied they were doing nothing other than warming up, he led the way to the exit.
The doors swept aside. The rain cascaded in sheets, rebounding from the pavement around the feet of travellers as they tiptoed around the puddles and torrents. About to step out, Helix was knocked aside by someone looking at his feet instead of where he was going. The man cannoned into Sofi, his hand sliding from her shoulder and rebounded from Wheeler who brushed his hands away. Helix lunged, grabbing two handfuls of the man’s coat. ‘Look where you’re going,’ he growled.
The man recoiled, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Hey, I know you.’ He wiped his hand across his mouth, hanging on to Helix with the other. ‘Matrix? Major Matrix, that’s it.’ He laughed, swaying away. ‘You ‘rrested me on a drugs charge.’
Helix shook him free. ‘Shut your mouth,’ he hissed. ‘You smell like you’ve just climbed out of a bottle.’
‘Gave me the ben’fit of the doubt, that was it. Put me back on the straight and narrow. Lemme buy you a drink. Come on, man. For old time’s sake.’
‘Perhaps another time,’ Helix replied, twisting a handful of the drunk’s jacket in his fist. ‘It’s raining. It’s cold. I have water pissing down my neck and have somewhere to be. Now fuck off.’ He locked eyes with the man as he attempted a salute, staggered and rebounded off the edge of the door.
The creatively named London Mews was accessed via a narrow arch from the equally creative London Street. The anonymous single-storey dwelling was hidden from the road well enough to escape the attention of the developers whom, if they’d known of its existence, might have piled at least a further ten apartments on top of it. Helix pressed his hand to the scanner and stood aside as the door opened, ushering Wheeler and Sofi inside with the roll-along luggage.
‘Nice little pied-à-terre,’ Wheeler said, shrugging off his dripping coat. ‘What’s the plan from here?’
‘Bedrooms at each end with own facilities. Kitchen in the middle and this, as you can see is the sitting room,’ Helix explained, heaving one of the cases onto a dining room table. ‘Don’t get too comfortable. We won’t be here for long.’
Wheeler pulled the curtain aside. ‘And bars on the windows. Are they to keep us in or others out?’
‘Well, we could hardly call it a safe house, if it wasn’t safe, could we?’
Sofi hung her coat, tied up her hair and sauntered into the kitchen. ‘Who wants a drink?’ she called, leaning into the fridge.
Helix watched from the corner of his eye as Wheeler joined her. ‘I’ll have a brew, thanks,’ he said, taking off his jacket and picking over the equipment.
‘Can I pour you one, Gabrielle?’ Wheeler said, holding up a bottle of brandy.
‘No, I’m going to stick with tea,’ she said, adding tea bags to two mugs. ‘A life without alcohol seems to agree with me.’ She added boiling water to the cups. ‘Just like life without you, Justin. Agreeable.’
Wheeler huffed, downing his drink in one greedy mouthful. He poured another, left it on the counter and skulked off to the bathroom. Helix moved the glass aside as he leaned back against the counter next to Sofi. She glanced up at him. ‘How am I doing?’
Helix nodded. ‘Not bad for a shrink-wrap.’
The sound of the toilet flushing came from the bedroom.
‘Really?’ she said, slinging her arms around his neck.
Helix went with the downwards pressure, his lips coming to hers. ‘I told—’
‘Just playing my part,’ she whispered, pressing her mouth to his.
Wheeler coughed from behind them. They didn’t move, remaining in the embrace as he brushed past them scooping his glass from the counter.
Helix fought the growing tingle in his trousers, wishing it was Gabrielle and not a synthetic Sharon.
‘What’s up?’ Sofi said.
‘Nothing.’ He cleared his throat. ‘We need to crack on.’ He rubbed her arms and stepped away. What was it with the arm rubbing?
‘You’re on the news, Major,’ Wheeler called from the sitting room.
Helix increased the volume, listening as the news reader voiced over footage of Julia Ormandy making a statement to Parliament.
‘Duped by a fake,’ the presenter began. ‘Julia Ormandy has been forced to climb down. The allegations against Doctor Gabrielle Stepper have been proven to be false. The Home Secretary is fighting for her political life.’
Helix muted it, took off his shoulder holsters and sat at the table. ‘Nothing we didn’t know already,’ he said, taking a gun cleaning kit from the case.
Sofi leaned against the door frame, nursing her tea.
‘Dear Julia,’ Wheeler said, his glass held up in a toast. ‘That’s the mistake people make with her.’ He took a deep draught.
‘Meaning?’ Helix said.
‘It’s when she’s at her most dangerous. She’ll come out fighting. Just you wait and see.’ He held his empty glass up to Sofi.
‘I’m not your bloody slave, Justin. Get it yourself.’ She slumped down on the chair opposite Helix.
Helix grinned, slipped one of his P226s from its holster and stripped it down, laying the parts out on a cloth. ‘Do you think she’ll ever be PM?’
Wheeler laughed. ‘More a case of when, not if.’
‘I’m surprised she didn’t jump at the chance after the wheels came off your wagon.’
‘Hmm, indeed,’ Wheeler said, leaning back on the sofa. He scratched his chin. ‘Yes. Thanks to you and your cohorts, my ambitions have – how shall I put it – have suffered a minor perturbation.’
‘Well, don’t hold your breath. I can’t imagine what it would take to see you restored to parliament. But I’m sure the political class will think of something.’ He dripped cleaner from a small bottle onto the underside of the slide and began working it with a small brush. He exchanged the brush for a cloth and wiped the slide down. ‘Anyway, back in the real world. I got you into London in one piece—’
‘I think we’re even, Major.’
‘Even? You need to snap out of your dream world, man. Do you even have a plan?’ He turned his attention to the stubby gun barrel, pointing to the light and peering down it. ‘Did you think we were going to have a teary farewell at the station and then go our separate ways?’
‘No. Not exactly. But I need to conclude my business and return to exile,’ Wheeler said, taking his glass to the kitchen. ‘As you said, Major, I am dead to the people of London. My presence will not be welcomed, it will garner unwanted media attention and elicit awkward questions in Parliament.’
Helix pursed his lips. ‘And we wouldn’t want that, would we?’ he muttered, taking a long thin brush from the cleaning kit. He applied a few drops of cleaner to the inside of the gun barrel and worked the brush down its length. ‘So, let me ask you again. What’s your plan?’
Wheeler stood in the doorway, brandy bottle in hand. ‘I hate to admit it, but that’s where I need your help.’ he said, tilting the bottle towards Helix.
‘Call the BBC, a politician, sorry ex-politician, admits to not having a scooby-do.’ He shook his head. ‘I got you to London. That was what we agreed.’
Wheeler shrugged. ‘You’ve hardly touched your tea, Gabrielle. Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a snifter?’
Sofi shook her head and took a sip of tea. Helix paused his cleaning and glanced at her. What did sh
e do with it after she swallowed it? Was there a warning light that came on when the tank was full? He attached a small white cleaning patch to the end of a rod.
Wheeler returned to the sofa and charged his glass. ‘Why is Gabrielle here, Helix?’ he asked, returning the top to the bottle. ‘After all, Julia Ormandy agreed to call off her pursuit before we left the castle. You insisted that we were coming to London.’
Helix pushed the rod through the barrel and examined the stained patch. Wheeler was a prat but he wasn’t stupid. He turned the patch over and repeated the process. He held his hand up as Wheeler drew breath. ‘I heard you.’ He pulled the recoil spring from its guide and inspected it. ‘We both have our reasons for being here. I needed Ormandy off my back as much as you.’
Wheeler cleared his throat. ‘But surely with your resources… Why would you need me? And that still doesn’t—’
Helix slammed his hand down. ‘She’s here because I need her here.’
Wheeler nosed his brandy. ‘There’s always more to it,’ he said, more to himself than the room.
‘Meaning?’ Helix snapped. He wasn’t interested in the answer. He rubbed his hand across his mouth, the cleaning solvent making his nose tingle. Wiping the recoil guide, he applied a dot of lubricant. ‘The letter that Ormandy claimed to have from Gabrielle…’ He leaned back in the chair. ‘It’s genuine.’
Wheeler’s eyes widened. He shot a stare at Sofi. ‘Oh my God. You killed—’
‘I had no choice,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘He was insane, Justin. And he was going to start a bloody war.’
‘He was more than just a political donor, he was my friend.’
‘Friend?’ Sofi sprung up from the chair. ‘What about Miriam? What about Rachel? What about Lauren? Like I said, they were my friends. Lauren’s an orphan because—’
‘The video from Lytkin’s apartment isn’t real,’ Helix said, poking his finger into a recess in the pistol’s frame.
