by Tyler Danann
“Stop! You’re under arrest!” said one of the lawmen who now moved ahead of another three to intercept them.
“We can’t get out this way!” Riley said almost in despair. “We’ll have to shoot our way out!”
“That’s what you think.”
Gearson activated the Artifact device in the case and deployed it onto his back. The thigh and shoulder straps automatically snake-locked into place he took his arm around Lorraine’s waist. The wrist unit that dangled from a thick wire cord .
He made a long rotational twist of the wrist units dial, activating the device.
“Hold on this will be rough!”
The Flight Unit made a reassuring whine before it intensified into an explosive roar and sent the pair of them roaring into the skies. Two seconds later the posse of Enforcers stopped just short of where they’d been and could only stare as their quarry vanished skyward.
The intensity of their ascent took them level with the two-storey rooftops within three seconds. Five more seconds saw them over three hundred yards on top of that, only then did Gearson cycled back the power using the wrist controller. As the explosive whine faded to a pleasing hum he leaned forwards so they were almost horizontal, sending them in a south-westerly direction. Few men could be capable of piloting a Flight Unit while carrying a 140 pound woman with one arm, but Kallan Gearson could. Gearson was born and raised in another place where such things were as common as football and pints of beer in Albion. A glider-line was ideal for taking a passenger, but there had been no time for that.
“Kallan you’re a genius!”
“I just know how to escape a trap when there’s no other way.”
“I knew you had gadgets but this is unreal.”
“I was hoping to get it tested up in Albion for Seymour’s Rangers to play with but we’re the test pilots now though!” he shouted.
“What do you mean?” she replied puzzled.
“I’ve not had time to test or tune his thing, it’ll do for now though.”
“But poor Malthar! I hope they don’t hurt him”
“Such are the ways,” Gearson said fatefully.
“Are we leaving the city?”
“Yes, but we’ve got to head back to your place, there’s my other Artifact cases. We can’t allow them to fall into the wrong hands.”
Using a Flight-Unit required not only discipline, nerve and courage but a high-standard of fitness. Gearson had the right mettle but lacked a helmet with built-in instruments to guide him. Riley knew London’s layout fairly well and guided him by sight. With the Thames estuary to his north-east Gearson manually flew back south-south-west towards their Croydon base. The speed of their travel was over seventy miles an hour and by staying below four hundred feet they remained at a reasonably low profile.
After nearly ten minutes of flying from Market Square Gearson and Riley had closed the distance to her safe house. The cloudy skies had become thick and dark though and they felt a few droplets start to fall from above. The atmospheric gauge on Gearson’s wrist unit dropped down to the red-zone and with it so did their altitude.
“We’re losing power!” Gearson warned as they made their descent. “This pressure is too lean, so get ready for a rough landing!”
“What?! Can’t you increase it?”
“I can’t, it’s tuned to fair-weather only! We’re in a power-fade, very dangerous! Especially with a passenger!”
“Retune it then?!”
“This isn’t a Storm Pack, just a souped-up Glider Unit!” Gearson admonished, his eyes and brain making frenzied calculations. “Hush now while I work out a landing spot.”
Finding a landing spot and successfully landing was not going to be easy. With a power-fade you only got one shot at landing before the Flight Unit failed completely. It required timing and expert agility. Normally a parachute would provide an additional safeguard. Yet the model Gearson was using had forgone that in favour of a customized turbo-start package. It had saved them at Covent Square but now they needed to land and quickly.
They were flying at over sixty miles an hour and an opposing, thrust vector was required. It had to be balanced, at an opposing diagonal to the descent path. If he tried too much, too soon they’d plunge like a stone. If he tried too little, too late they’d end up ploughing into the ground. The latter was a shade more preferable, but with no lakes or soft terrain they’d crash into the urban obstructions in no time.
Below them it was row after row of houses as the packed urban landscape of south London took on a new challenge. Alleys that were too small showed no promise nor did the roads that either had busy traffic or parked cars everywhere. Street-lights that obstructed were now dangerously below their feet, along with power-lines cross-crossing every so often. They barely cleared two more rows of houses when Crystal Park opened up before them to the right. Gearson vectored over to it. The auto-stabilization field was now degrading and he fought to prevent them spinning out of control.
At the moment when their fragile air-unit was on its last burst of speed, Gearson acted. He aimed towards a dense clump of oak trees so they were slightly on their right. Just prior to passing them over he gave Riley a warning shout before releasing her into the thick branches. As this was happening he made his flare-movement. He wrenched at muscles while leaning backwards with all his might. As he was doing all this his right hand slowly increased the throttle control on his left wrist. According to his old teacher not only was an opposing angle to the descent path required but an extra ten degrees as well. This would, in theory, allow for a perfect landing without a forward roll being needed. Gearson had no time for that, he worked on raw intuition, not angle plotting or computer assistance. As the ground came rushing up he opened the throttle completely. He slowed down but even with the ground-effect he had a rough and tumble impact. The landing was on grass though and the flying man rolled over three times. Almost immediately he took to his feet like a person arising from an accidental fall.
Gearson raced over to the oak trees, to his relief Riley was unhurt except for the mildest scratches and bruises.
“That’s one way to get me down I suppose,” she joked. The old oak tree was plentiful with branches to the lower trunk and she climbed down unaided.
“Come on, it’s only five minutes to your apartment from here.”
Their descent was noticed and attracted a small crowd of teenagers. They had been flying small race drones around in the park and several filmed the aftermath of Gearson’s landing.
For now they were both free but the ministry machine was relentless. Unseen wheels and cogs would be turning and organs pumping at full speed as the cities authorities went onto full alert.
Malthar was cuffed and frogmarched by the strange civilian duo brutally. Then found himself bundled into the waiting police van. His small, slight frame was an organ of pain. His arms were almost numb but his legs were hardly able to support him. His skull felt as though it had been split open and if he moved in the wrong way his spine would send jolts of pain rippling about. Both the man and the woman had beaten him with frustrated rage after the effects of the CS gas were wearing off. If it wasn’t for the Enforcer sergeant who stepped between them he feared they’d have baton-struck him to death. It was only then that he heard his charge being read out. Malthar did not make it all out but caught the words ‘Espionage’ and ‘Terrorist’ among the litany of legalize wordings.
Now inside the van raised voices could be heard.
“They escaped! They escaped! How could you let this happen!?” he could hear them saying.
“It’s not easy to catch people that fly you know!”
“If your rentacop idiots had moved in quicker we’d have all three of them!” The accent sounded foreign from the angry-voiced one. It sounded like one of those who had beaten him.
“We have their agent, so don’t worry. We’ll get the others soon enough.”
“Does control have an address on them?” the female voice asked. She t
oo was foreign-sounding. “I heard one of the other spies gotten away?”
Malthar groaned as the engine started and the voices faded. He was captured and now would face goodness knows what fate.
After a short drive to Frostrise Police Station he was processed, then left in a solitary cell. From in there he could faintly hear the down-pouring rain from outside. After half an hour footsteps came to the door and it was thrown open. A plain clothes man was there with a uniformed Enforcer.
“Out! It’s time for a chat,” said the uniformed man.
“Where’s my legal representation?”
“Terrorists don’t get that anymore! Now OUT!”
In his weakened state the Enforcer practically dragged Malthar to the interrogation room while the plain-clothes man followed.
Once inside he was sat down inside. The other man who had not spoken took a seat opposite him, while the uniformed one stood by the door.
“Hello Henry,” he said pleasantly. “I’m Junior Commissioner Raines and the uniformed gentleman is Detective-Sergeant Green.”
Malthar said nothing.
“I understand you’re in a spot of bother?”
Again he responded with no answer.
“Well, we have enough charges against you to put you inside for a long time.”
“What charges?” Malthar protested. “I was just talking with strangers at Covent Square.”
The uniformed officer spoke now. “So the lies begin eh? Well besides carrying section 5 weaponry, resisting arrest, espionage, having illegal devices on your computer and so on we’ve got you on the grand-daddy of them all.” Detective Green leaned in close. “Aiding and abetting a hostile power. That alone that will get you fifty years in prison. On top of the other charges probably sixty years total with little to no chance of parole.”
Green leaned back and Malthar felt his world crumbling from within.
“However,” Raines began, “you’re fortunate because you aren’t the one we really want.” He moved in before speaking up. “Also, because you’ve been arrested first you could win the lucky-prize. That’s your freedom. You only win that prize though by telling us EVERYTHING!”
“Now what’s it going to be?” asked Sergeant Green. “Help us get the terrorists you met with or you get the full treatment.”
“Oh and in case you’re wondering, we have the two plain-clothes agents outside and a few friends. You know, the ones who you sprayed with gas. They are very keen to speak to you in private.”
He let the words hang for maximum impact before speaking on.
“We don’t have to let them in here though.”
To emphasize the point Green opened the window slot of the door and sure enough the angry red face of Mastock was outside. He glanced in at the sound and glared at Malthar. The frightened spy’s heart sank at the sight.
The slot was shut again and Raines’ voice filled the silence.
“Do you want to start talking now Henry?”
Chapter 15
Escape
The rain continued to fall hard for ten minutes then slackened off to a drizzle. Inside apartment twelve, White Horse Lane the fugitives ignored the weather as they prepared to abandon the city. Parked outside, Lorraine Riley’s choice of vehicle was a silver colored Ford Puma. It was small and lacked four-wheel drive. The boot storage was barely adequate and it stood out slightly compared to other compact vehicles. The machine was good on fuel economy though and easy to park in big cities.
Gearson said nothing in complaint about the machine though, ignoring the drizzle as they loaded up the vehicle. Doing so was tiring though, as two floors of concrete steps had to be descended and ascended time and time again. First went in Riley’s evacuation bag, then more cached gear followed.
The back seats were next loaded with Gearson’s first Artifact case, that of the Flight Unit.
Both returned inside just as the sound of a police siren became audible. It was distant but getting closer. Riley checked her remote sensors to try and get a spectrum fix.
The tall man ignored her and returned outside. Using a jerry can with spare fuel in it he carefully replenished the Flight Unit’s reservoir. It only took about half a pint before it was topped up again. Satisfied that the device would once again give a burst of amplified power for glider-flight he stowed it behind passenger seat.
“They’re heading to the decoy address!” she said from her room. Gearson was just climbing the stairs when he caught her words.
“Are you sure? That could be anyone’s emergency.”
“The proximity warnings are sounding and burglars don’t normally raid empty apartments.”
“Those police must be the visual force then, irregular plain clothes will have gone in advance!”
“I know it. We may have to kill people to escape this city Kallan,” Riley said tightly, more to herself that her leader.
“We’ve not much time then, get your data together, destroy what you can’t take.”
“Malthar must have sung them a tune. I knew he’d rat us out,” she said bitterly before zipping up a duffle bag.
“Hold yourself woman, he did what he had to do,” Gearson chided. “Does he know your car or this place?”
“No, none of them do, but they have ways of fingering us if we leave it too long. If they have his computer and cypher, the communications to here could be tracked. It’s encrypted though, that should take a while for a slow-tracker to work its way here.”
“The dark forces we are up against are a match for any cyber marauder.”
From the third case he removed a new piece of equipment discretely. To the casual eye it resembled a gun, to the more intelligent, a revolver and to those experienced in firearms, a Webley .455. Gearson knew it was much more than that though, it was both a weapon and a tool with two triggers, one smaller than the other. He pressed a little catch and opened up the Webley’s top-break action then slid across another metal part, allowing the cylinder that was in it to be removed. Putting that into a jacket pocket he replaced the cylinder with a new one. This one had brass cartridges like the first, but enclosed non-lethal slugs that he’d had custom-made. A third cylinder he removed from the Artifact case and checked that the prism array had not degraded after the many years in storage. It had not and this went into an inside jacket pocket. A custom shoulder holster in buffalo hide came out next and the revolver slid snugly into it. By the time he’d removed his jacket, donned the holster and put it on again Riley was leaving her room.
She was laden with the last of her bags and belongings. Gearson almost gasped at the weight as he helped her move them to the car.
“What’s in these things? Haven’t you heard of traveling light?”
“This is light, there’s gold and silver reserves for setting up a new base elsewhere. Your cases aren’t much lighter.”
They managed to get the rest of the baggage loaded in without incident, the rest of Gearson’s gear went on the back seats. The boot would hardly close such was the size of Riley’s bags. After some rummaging and a hard push it clicked shut.
Gearson climbed in the passenger side to let her drive, she being more experienced at it, and more used to driving in Britain than he was. The engine started and purred faintly like a cat. Ford Puma’s were a small engine car but not insignificant either. The Puma began moving around to leave the parking area. A stream of traffic prevented them turning left and they had to wait for it to clear. Almost at that moment Gearson picked out two men walking on the far side of the street. They were young, European and smartly dressed. This combined into them being very much out of place to White Horse Lane. Neither wore waterproof clothing, nor was it casual to be exposing electronic items to moisture like the portable device one was holding. It looked like any other smart phone except he’d glance constantly up and around at buildings and make adjustments to it. The other was taking on a mobile-device and giving indications to the smart-phone man.
“Lorraine, what signs on those tw
o?” Gearson said keeping his left hand close to his chest.
She donned her cap and flipped down the glass-visor. “Searchers, highly-driven.”
“MI5?” Gearson held his hand close to his Webley.
“Maybe, or Special Branch? Hell I don’t know Kallan, the analyser doesn’t tell me that much.”
“Let’s go, nice and easy.”
The Puma slowly left the apartment complex before indicating left, taking them in the direction of the M-25. As they passed by the men one of them looked at the apartment complex, but not the car that passed them.
The two men continued walking, unknowing of those that drove past. Then the Puma was out of sight.
“We were that close,” Gearson cautioned.
“We aren’t out of London yet and it’s a long drive to Albion.”
“I just hope we are in time to prevent them marching on London.”
“Did you hear what I just said? It’s over a hundred and fifty miles to Yeomanry territory in the north and your Glider machine won’t work in this weather.”
“Stay positive Lorraine, we’d have lost years ago if we gave in to negative ways,” Gearson said coaxing a grin from her.
Chapter 16
Suspects
“Ahh fuck! I’ve lost the precise fix,” Corporal Johnson said, as they passed another street junction. “This Ferret works perfect in a country village but cities like this have too much interference,” he lamented.
The Ferret was a very new bit of kit recently issued to SOTF. Focused cyberspace tracing was in its infancy but the boffins at Research Wing had come up trumps with the device. It was handheld compared to the truck-mounted prototype and could triangulate IP sources to a fair degree of accuracy. Compared to the large, mile-wide grid-squares more suited for open country the Ferret was their ace-in-the-hole. Before they’d have to weasel out the information from an internet company the suspects were using, not so now they had the Ferret.
“Are you getting any more intel from control?”
