by Joe Craig
“She has them in the palm of her hand,” Eva explained. “She’ll wait until it disintegrates into total disorder, then announce that the Prime Minister is dead and take control herself. There’s nothing we can do unless we get him to safety.” She jerked her head towards Ian Coates.
“That won’t do any good,” Jimmy murmured.
“Then what?” Eva threw her hands up in despair, but Jimmy spun round with new energy.
“Listen to me,” he said with confidence. “You too, Mitchell.” Mitchell eyed Jimmy cautiously, but he listened as Jimmy’s words whirled on. “Parked on the forecourt of the public wing of this hospital is a Corporation TV News van. I’m going to tell you a list of things. You two bring them up.”
“I don’t work for you,” Mitchell grunted.
“Do it,” Jimmy ordered. His voice was as powerful as any weapon. “We’ve got to finish this forever.”
Jimmy turned to the window and stayed like that until long after he heard Mitchell and Eva going down in the lift. He pretended to be staring out at the world, but all he could see were the slats of the blind. The sound of his father’s breathing filled his head.
“Jimmy,” Ian Coates said eventually, his voice soft.
Jimmy fought to stop himself trembling with rage. “I was there,” he whispered. “At the tower block.”
“What?” His father sounded horrified.
“I tried to…” Jimmy’s voice faded, overpowered by the memory of the heat…the flash…the total destruction.
“I tried to stop them too,” said Ian Coates in a rush. “I tried to tell them it was an outrage. But Miss Bennett…”
“Shut up!” Jimmy shouted, gripping his head in his hands. He couldn’t stop hearing his father’s voice as he’d heard it on that recording: “We’re blowing up the tower block on Walnut Tree Walk!”
The sound pounded through his head until the words didn’t make any sense any more. It was fake, Jimmy told himself, insisting it over and over to try to drown out the horror of the bombing.
“It was fake!” he murmured through clenched teeth.
“Yes,” said his father desperately. “It was! I saw it on TV. It was a fake! I would never have bombed a London tower block. That would make me…”
Only now did Jimmy turn to look at his father. The man’s face was pale again and streaked with tears.
“That would make me a monster,” he gasped.
21 TIME TO SHOOT
The door clicked open before Jimmy could react to his father’s words. Mitchell strode in with a TV camera across his shoulder, while Eva struggled in behind him with a long boom microphone, a portable audio mixer strapped over her arm in a protective case, several cables and a couple of sets of headphones.
With a deliberate effort, Jimmy swallowed his emotions. He pulled out the mobile phone from his pocket and handed it to his father.
“Call the Corporation,” he ordered.
“What’s the number?” Ian Coates asked.
“You’re the Prime Minister,” Jimmy snarled. “I’m sure you’ll remember it.”
His father looked shocked for a moment, then quickly nodded and started dialling.
“You want the news desk,” Jimmy went on. “You’re about to address the nation and they’re to broadcast it live, on every channel—just like they did for Miss Bennett.”
“The Prime Minister doesn’t just call the news desk, Jimmy.” Ian Coates held the phone up to his ear, but at the last minute Jimmy grabbed his father’s wrist and pressed a button on the handset.
“Speakerphone,” he explained. “Just so we all know what’s going on.”
Coates nodded slowly and held the phone in front of his mouth. When somebody answered, it obviously wasn’t the main Corporation switchboard that the general public might have called.
“Specify path,” said a man’s voice, in an almost robotic tone.
“Cobra, Robin, Alpha, One, Grey,” said Ian Coates. His eyes darted across the faces of Jimmy, Mitchell and Eva. They were standing round his bed, staring at him.
There was a click on the other end of the line, then another man’s voice came on.
“Hello?” he said. “Prime Minister?”
“Yes,” said Coates. “Is that the duty controller?”
“It is, sir.” The man sounded uncertain and surprised—as if he’d just been woken up.
“It’s good to know these protocols work when we need them, isn’t it?” Ian Coates let out a forced laugh. To Jimmy it only made him sound more uneasy.
“Get on with it,” Jimmy whispered. “Tell him you need to broadcast a message.”
“It looks like I’m going to be addressing the nation,” said Ian Coates into the phone, his eyes fixed on Jimmy. “I’ll need you to broadcast it.”
“Addressing the nation?” said the Controller. “Right… OK…Do you need me to send a—”
“I think we have everything we need,” Coates interrupted, looking at all of the equipment Mitchell and Eva had brought up. “We have a camera, and I assume that will send the footage to the news van it came from, is that right?”
“Yes, yes…” replied the controller hurriedly. “It’ll have an automatic radio link-up, then the feed will be sent by satellite to Corporation House.”
“Tell him he has to put it on every channel,” Jimmy insisted. “Live.”
His father put his thumb over the speaker on the phone and glared at Jimmy.
“You can’t force me to do this,” he whispered, anger growing in his face. “I’m still in power and I’ll be the one to decide—”
“This is the only thing you can do,” Jimmy cut in. “The public has to see you’ve recovered so Miss Bennett can’t have you killed and blame it on an illness. And you have to get people back on your side.”
“I can’t do that with a stupid speech on television!”
“That depends on what you say, doesn’t it?”
“I’ll say what I like.”
“No.” Jimmy couldn’t help raising his voice, not caring if the duty controller heard him. “There’s only one thing you can say to save yourself, and save this country, and I’m going to tell you what it is.”
Jimmy and his father stared at each other, but Jimmy could see his father’s mind racing through the possibilities. Did he know what he was going to have to do? Did he have any idea how unstable the country was at that moment?
“Put me on every channel,” the Prime Minister said at last, into the phone. “Live.”
They all waited for a response, but the duty controller said nothing for several seconds. “Is there a problem?” asked Ian Coates.
“Well…” said the voice on the phone.
“Do you need another authorisation code?”
“No…no…” stammered the controller. “We know it’s you. You’ve given the codes, and we have voice recognition software…”
“So what’s the problem?” Coates barked.
“I have instructions, sir,” the man explained.
“Instructions?”
Jimmy was getting more and more agitated. “Sort this out,” he hissed. “We don’t have time. Miss Bennett could be sending more…”
“It’s instructions from your own Secret Service, sir,” said the controller on the phone. “They told me it was an emergency security procedure. Everything is being monitored tonight. I can only put out what comes through their office.”
“I’m the Prime Minister!” yelled Coates. “Their office is my office!”
“I’m sorry, sir.” The man sounded genuinely scared now. “I’m acting on specific orders from Miss Bennett. She was very… persuasive.”
Jimmy clenched his fists in annoyance.
“I knew she’d do this,” gasped Eva. She turned to Jimmy and whispered, “The Corporation has always been monitored by NJ7 anyway. Now Miss Bennett’s taken complete control.”
“She can’t!” Jimmy cried.
“She can do anything she wants,” Eva replied.
<
br /> “Any more bright ideas?” Ian Coates asked, still clutching the phone. “Can I end this ridiculous call now? I think I’m strong enough to get out of here.”
“And go where?” Eva snapped. “If Miss Bennett has control of the Corporation she has control of the whole country whether you’re alive or not.”
“She’s right,” Jimmy agreed. “Miss Bennett doesn’t even need to kill you if she has power over what people think…” He wanted to say more, but his voice faded away. His head was reeling. There had to be a way to get the Prime Minister on to TV. This was Jimmy’s chance to send out a message to the whole country in a way that would force them to listen.
Jimmy could feel his programming attacking his brain from every angle, then his chest convulsed with a powerful surge of energy that burst up from his stomach. His hands leapt to his throat and he felt like he desperately needed to cough, but couldn’t. In the corner of his eye, he could just make out Mitchell in exactly the same pose as him—hands clasped around his throat, rocking from side to side, his mouth open, hoping to cough. What was happening?
At last, Jimmy realised. It was obvious. He grabbed for the phone in his father’s hand in one sharp movement. At the same time, Mitchell reached out as well. Both of them grasped the handset, their fingers interlocking. They looked up at each other, startled. But before Jimmy could react, the burning in his throat intensified. His lips went soft. He watched the same thing happen to Mitchell, as if he was looking into a mirror.
“Do exactly as I tell you,” said Jimmy and Mitchell at precisely the same moment, but their voices weren’t their own. Both had produced a perfect imitation of Miss Bennett. They stared at each other. Jimmy could feel his heart pounding so hard he felt like he was being punched.
“Hello?” said the voice on the other end of the line. “Who is that?”
Jimmy drew in a deep breath. His programming was still pumping through him. Relax, he ordered himself, but it took his strongest effort to force his fingers to release the phone. He closed his eyes and staggered backwards until he was leaning against the window.
Mitchell’s arm snapped up automatically, bringing the phone to his lips. Jimmy mouthed the words with him as he spoke. His muscles seemed to know exactly what the other boy was going to say, before either of them had any idea themselves. And again, it was the voice of Miss Bennett that filled the room.
“This is Miss Bennett,” snapped Mitchell. “Since when did it become fashionable to disobey direct orders from your Prime Minister?”
“Miss Bennett?” gasped the duty controller. “You’re there?”
“Of course,” snapped Mitchell. “I don’t let my voice go out unaccompanied.”
Jimmy was exhilarated. Mitchell was doing better than he ever could have done himself. Spending so much time with the woman meant Mitchell perfectly replicated not just her voice, but her tone and patterns of speech.
“But you said…” burbled the man on the other end of the phone.
“I know what I said,” Mitchell cut in. “I didn’t realise I was speaking to a dullard.”
“But—”
“Just do as the PM tells you,” Mitchell ordered, with a withering sigh.
Only now could Jimmy bring himself to open his eyes. The shock and fear on Mitchell’s face was a perfect reflection of his own feelings. It was in total contrast to the authority of the voice coming from Mitchell’s throat.
Mitchell handed the phone back to Ian Coates, who obviously knew there was no point resisting Jimmy’s instructions. In under a minute, the phone call was over and the Corporation was ready to receive the signal from the hospital. Eva and Jimmy set about the equipment, preparing to film Ian Coates’ message to the nation.
It took several seconds before Mitchell was able to help them. He was leaning forwards, supporting himself with one hand on the bed frame, panting hard.
“It was like she was…” he whispered, almost to himself. Jimmy put down the camera and crept up to the other boy.
“Like she was in your throat,” he said softly. “But not just your throat. All through your brain as well. Like every memory you’ve ever had was infected with her. Her voice.”
Mitchell turned his head slowly to look at Jimmy out of the corner of his eye. His back straightened, emphasising the power in his shoulders. Even since the last time Jimmy had seen him, Mitchell had grown taller and broader. He nodded once, his bloodshot eyes penetrating Jimmy’s skull.
“We’re still enemies,” he growled. It sent a shiver through Jimmy’s frame.
“Come on,” said Eva suddenly, shocking Jimmy and Mitchell out of their silent battle. “We’re ready. Let’s shoot.”
Jimmy hurried to pick up the camera, while Eva took control of the sound and Mitchell slunk out of the way of the shot. Ian Coates was busy slicking down his hair and pinching his cheeks to give his face a healthier colour.
“Do you have any make-up, Eva?” he asked. Jimmy couldn’t believe his father was saying that without even a hint of humour. Eva shook her head without looking up from her controls.
“Any idea how to work this?” she said quickly.
“Sorry,” said Jimmy, struggling to position the camera comfortably on his shoulder. “It can’t be that hard. TV people do it all the time. But don’t we need someone in the van?”
“I think it was set up to transmit automatically,” Eva explained.
“You think?”
Eva shrugged and looked across at Mitchell, who nodded. Jimmy knew that would have to do.
“OK,” he said with a sigh. “You ready?”
Eva nodded. “When we’re done you should call that man at the Corporation again and tell him to show more cookery programmes.”
Jimmy couldn’t help smiling. They both knew Felix was almost addicted to cookery shows and there were never enough of them. Jimmy could feel the warmth of Eva’s affection, even though he knew she was nervous and didn’t want to reveal to Mitchell or the Prime Minister that she’d been on Jimmy’s side all along.
“And more kung-fu movies,” Mitchell chipped in. Jimmy was taken aback to see a small smile creeping on to his enemy’s face. He almost brought himself to smile back. Finally, Mitchell stepped towards him and planted his huge fists on the camera.
“You look like you’re having trouble with that,” he said quietly, taking the camera from Jimmy and hoisting it on to his own shoulders. Jimmy let it go silently. He could imagine the confusion raging inside Mitchell.
“How do I look?” asked Ian Coates.
Jimmy didn’t want to answer. In truth, his father had managed to make himself look much healthier than he was. He even stuck his chest out with an air of authority. But Jimmy wasn’t proud of what he saw. Seeing his father taking charge only served as a reminder of the lies he’d told, and how easily he’d abandoned Jimmy. He’s not my real father, Jimmy repeated over and over to himself, almost trying to turn the man in front of him into an object. Just another obstacle to force out of the way.
“OK,” announced Coates, “I think I know what I’m going to say. Let’s go.”
“No,” Jimmy replied quietly. “I’ll tell you what to say.”
Ian Coates almost choked on his own indignation. Jimmy ignored him. Quickly, he nodded to Mitchell, who aimed the camera at Ian Coates and shifted his hands into position. A small red light came on, on top of the camera. Jimmy picked up his mobile phone and found the TV function.
“You’re on,” Jimmy announced, a buzz rippling through him. On the tiny screen in his palm was a crystal clear picture of Ian Coates sitting up in his hospital bed.
“Good evening, everybody,” Jimmy whispered, suddenly terrified that his father wouldn’t say what he was told—either through stubbornness or fear. “Go on!” Jimmy scowled at his father. Now he was convinced this idea was never going to work. But then Ian Coates turned to the camera, his lips curling into an uneasy smile. He took a deep breath, as if, instead of a camera, he was looking into the jaws of a ravenous ti
ger and any sudden movement would get him devoured. Finally, very slowly, he said, “Good evening, everybody.”
22 POWER AND RESPONSIBILITY
Jimmy heard the thoughts charging through his head at a rate of thousands per second. This was his chance. But how much control did he really have over his father? Or, more importantly, how much power did he have over the Prime Minister?
Jimmy wished he knew how to hypnotise people, or trick them into obeying his every word, but instead he just had to trust that his father knew what the consequences would be if he disobeyed. Jimmy had stopped short of harming the man once, but neither of them could predict what his programming would force him to do next time. Then there was the real threat—Miss Bennett. She was out there, somewhere in London, plotting to take power. And this message was the only way to stop her. Jimmy and his father both knew that. Ian Coates had to trust that Jimmy knew what this message had to say to command the attention of the whole country and seize back control. After all, Jimmy had been the one out in the streets, among Londoners, while Ian Coates had been semi-conscious in a hospital bed.
“There have been some shocking accusations made,” Jimmy began, as quietly as he could. His father obediently repeated the words, but he sounded awkward. “So I have decided to put an end to all the rumours.” Again, Ian Coates copied Jimmy word for word. He was gradually beginning to sound more fluent, as if he was inventing the speech himself.
“I am alive and well,” Jimmy went on, with his father repeating everything perfectly. “And I am still in charge of Great Britain.” Now Ian Coates started embellishing Jimmy’s speech, adding that he was, “proud to be at the helm of a great nation”. Jimmy didn’t mind. If it made the speech sound more adult, it would have a stronger effect.
“And I didn’t blow up that tower block,” said Jimmy.
“The horrors that have been laid at my door,” said his father, “are groundless lies put about by our French enemy simply to weaken our national resolve.”
No, thought Jimmy, stick to what I tell you! He could feel his control slipping, but had to carry on.
“There is no need for war,” said Jimmy. He paused, waiting for his father.
