4
ALYSSA COULD HEAR the excited chatter of teenagers behind her as she sat next to Karl Janklow on the comfortable leather bench seat. Giggles erupted as the rollercoaster started to move slowly forward and upward.
Alyssa had been surprised when Karl had suggested the amusement park as a meeting place, but on reflection she could see the logic of it. The area, a seaside resort on a peninsula just outside the city, had three such amusement parks, and Karl had chosen the oldest and, in Alyssa’s opinion, most charming.
She’d spent many happy hours with her family and friends on the rides here. It all came back to her in vivid, living colour – the roar of the coasters, the screams of the thrill seekers; the smell of candyfloss and hot dogs; the glare of the neon lights; the carousels and the big wheel delivering thrills and excitement to the hundreds of people who visited the huge pleasure ground.
Karl Janklow had been a friend of both her and her husband, many years ago. He was a systems engineer, Alyssa remembered now, and Patrick had told her how good he was. A good climber too, he had accompanied them on several trips. But then Alyssa had become pregnant, her and Patrick’s priorities had changed, and despite a couple of attempts to meet up, they had finally lost touch with their old friend.
They’d been here once before, she remembered, the three of them. Before Anna, before Patrick’s illness, before the accident that had changed Alyssa’s life forever. It had been a summer’s day, and the three of them were young, carefree, just enjoying the pleasure of life as it came. Those had been good days, Alyssa thought, and the throng of visitors here today seemed completely unaffected by the growing chaos back on the streets of the city beyond. Yes, it was a good place to meet, and more importantly, perhaps, it was noisy and crowded, an ideal place to lose anyone who might be following you. It wasn’t likely they’d be overheard, either.
But when they met, Karl seemed nervous, jittery, and even more paranoid than he had sounded on the phone; he wanted to ride the rollercoaster, claiming that he feared their conversation might still be monitored despite the noise from the rest of the park. His paranoia made her feel a little bit better about the fact that she’d disguised herself for the meeting, a longstanding tactic she always used when meeting sources.
Karl even remained silent as the rollercoaster train started to move, pulling them inexorably upwards to start the ride. She let him be, patiently waiting for him to tell her what he knew.
They reached the top of the first peak and, despite herself, Alyssa felt the excitement rise within her. It was a combination of the physical thrill of the old wooden rollercoaster and the anticipation of the secrets Karl had to tell her.
As the train started to tip over the peak to its stomach-churning first descent, Karl finally turned to Alyssa. As the teens behind them let out unbridled screams and the train shot down the coaster at a speed which rippled the skin, he gestured with his head, beckoning Alyssa to come closer.
She leant in, but even with his mouth at her ear, she still had to strain to hear.
‘Alyssa,’ Karl shouted above the roar of the tracks and the screams, ‘the things that are happening, they are not natural. They—’
Alyssa didn’t catch the next words, Karl’s head had moved away. She leant in even closer and felt the weight of his head resting on her cheek.
She pulled back to look at him, and her stomach lurched violently, independently of the motion of the rollercoaster. Karl’s eyes were still open, staring straight ahead, his mouth agape. And, to Alyssa’s horror, there was a neat hole in the centre of his forehead and blood was dripping over his disbelieving face.
And then, for the first time during the ride, she screamed.
‘Good shot,’ Colonel Anderson announced over the radio headset worn by the sniper. The professional soldier was lying comfortably on a shooting rug, positioned strategically on the roof of a building over half a mile away. ‘Now take out the woman,’ Anderson ordered.
The sniper followed the path of the coaster with his optical sight, tracking the unknown woman as she turned, realized what had happened, and started to scream. The angle wasn’t quite right yet, but down the next hill, up and round a bend, would be just perfect.
‘Yes, sir,’ he responded confidently.
He would be putting away his equipment and high-tailing it out of there within thirty seconds.
Alyssa could feel herself starting to hyperventilate. As she hunched reflexively down in the train, trying to minimize her target profile, she tried to get control of her breathing, her years in the mountains having instilled in her the knowledge that panic would be her worst enemy.
Where had the shot come from? A sniper could be literally anywhere. Was she a target too? Of course she was, she quickly realized; if they had killed Karl to keep him quiet, they would kill her too in case he had already told her anything.
She knew nobody else would have any idea what was going on – the people behind her would be too wrapped up in the rollercoaster ride to notice, everyone was screaming anyway, the ride was too far away and going too fast for anyone on the ground to realize what had happened. She was on her own.
The speed of the coaster wasn’t helping her think, but she knew immediately what she had to do. In the train, she was a sitting duck. Karl had been hit right in the middle of the forehead, so whoever was out there, they weren’t amateurs. She couldn’t stay on the rollercoaster. She was going to have to get off while it was still moving.
What the hell is she doing? the sniper wondered, watching as his second target started squirming in her seat.
She had previously ducked down as far as she could, which he had anticipated – it still wouldn’t stop him making the fatal shot in just ten seconds’ time – but now she was twisting, wrenching, and—
She’s trying to escape! The sniper couldn’t help but admire her. Most people would have just capitulated entirely, fear overcoming their faculties of reason. But not this woman. Oh no, she was going to get out of the train and then – what? Jump?
Knowing the futility of her actions, the sniper settled down and waited to take the shot.
The lap bar that secured Alyssa had also secured Karl, and because he had significantly larger legs than she had, there was a gap of at least an inch between the bar and her own thighs. Space enough to move; space enough to escape.
Alyssa had no idea what she was going to do when free, but she knew it was first things first. She had to take things one at a time, and her primary task was to get out of the confinement of the coaster train.
She shifted in her seat, trying to slide through and across. Ideally, she would have just pushed down on the bar and levered herself out upwards, but the acceleration of the coaster prevented this; even if it hadn’t, her instinct for self-preservation made her want to get down low, not make more of a target of herself.
She lay down across the seat, her head in her dead friend’s lap as she tried desperately to manoeuvre her legs out of the narrow opening. She clawed herself across, straining to release her lower body from the safety bar.
She gasped as one knee popped out, and quickly extended her leg out over the seat and then shifted her hips, pulling free the other leg as the coaster got to the top of another rise and started to slow down.
Her legs free, she pulled her head away from Karl’s lap and risked a glance at the track. There was a bend up ahead, which meant the coaster would be slowing down even more before accelerating down the next peak.
If she was going to make her move, it would have to be soon.
‘Target’s moving,’ the sniper reported, his voice cold and professional.
‘What do you mean?’ Anderson asked from his mobile command centre in a converted motorhome just outside the amusement park.
‘She’s trying to get out of the car.’
‘Can you take a shot yet?’ Anderson asked quickly.
‘Negative,’ the sniper replied. ‘Not yet. After this bend. She. . .’
Ther
e was a pause, and Anderson knew his man would be watching the woman’s actions carefully. Then muffled thumps came over the connection; the sniper was firing. But there were too many shots.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Anderson demanded.
‘I’ve missed,’ the sniper replied. ‘She got out over the other side, used the train for cover. She’s in the tunnel scaffolding, heading down to the ground.’
‘Dammit!’ Anderson cursed. ‘Keep watching. If you get another shot, take it.’ Cutting the connection, Anderson changed channels to link with the other members of his team. ‘All units, converge on the rollercoaster. The woman has escaped. Don’t let her leave this park alive.’
The ‘slow’ section of the roller coaster was still terrifyingly fast. But fearing a bullet even more, Alyssa finally took a deep breath, steadied herself, and swung her body right out of the car.
She saw chips of wood flying inches from her hands, and some small part of her mind processed the information, realized the sniper was shooting at her. The car was blocking the shots and she gripped the side for dear life, timing her next action carefully.
One . . . two . . . now!
Alyssa let go of the coaster and stepped out on to the side of the wooden tracks. The speed left her stumbling, falling, about to go right over the edge and plummet forty feet to the ground below. But then she managed to grab a metal strut in the tunnel scaffolding and steadied herself.
She could hear screams from below now as people realized what she had done, vaguely saw people pointing up at her. But then one of her hands spun off the scaffold as something hit the metal strut, the sound of the ricochet coming moments later, and she knew the sniper was firing at her again, and the cars of the rollercoaster were no longer there to protect her.
Gasping, she stepped off the side of the track and dropped straight down, catching hold of the metal struts underneath, steadying herself once more in the scaffold, hoping the wooden tracks would give her cover.
Breathing out slowly, gathering herself, Alyssa looked down; a crowd was gathering beneath, and she felt safer knowing that there were people there. Surely nobody would risk killing her once she was among them.
She hadn’t climbed since that fateful day in the mountains, when she had failed her daughter so badly. She hadn’t visited so much as an indoor climbing wall since. She just hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. But now she barely gave those fears a thought. With the adrenalin surging into her system, for the first time in years the desire to climb became as powerful – as natural – as the urge to breathe.
Steeling herself, she started to carefully climb down the scaffold.
‘There are a lot of people here,’ Anderson heard one of his men say as they approached the coaster. ‘Too many people.’
Anderson understood. Other information coming from the park indicated that the ride was being stopped; too many people had seen the woman climb out on to the scaffolding. And when the ride stopped and Karl Janklow’s body was discovered . . .
A thought struck him suddenly, and he thumbed the microphone. ‘Use your police IDs,’ he ordered his team. ‘Clear the area beneath the scaffold. When she gets down, arrest her.’
The original plan was for his men to pretend to be with federal law enforcement, telling the park authorities that they’d had the area under surveillance and removing the two dead bodies from the coaster before the real cops could move in. But for the time being, there was only one dead body, which put something of a spanner in the works.
Still, Anderson knew that plans rarely survived contact with the enemy. Flexibility was the key, and Anderson issued his new orders. They would claim that the woman killed Janklow – it wouldn’t be immediately obvious that the shot had been long-range – and then some of his men could take Janklow’s body whilst others could move in to ‘arrest’ the woman, and kill her someplace away from the park; away from prying eyes.
Halfway down, Alyssa saw the crowd dispersing and wondered what was happening. And then six suited men arrived, looking up at her. They had handguns drawn and what looked like badges pulled out. Cops?
Alyssa allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. It was OK. She was going to be OK. The police were here, and they would handle it. She looked further across to where the six-car train had come to a halt, saw other men extracting Karl’s dead body and restraining the shocked and screaming teenagers. Park security were erecting a cordon around the area, sealing the ride off from the rest of the park, ushering the other riders out of the way. Yes, she thought, it would be all right.
But then she paused, going no further, her mind racing furiously. Why were they moving the body? It was a murder scene, wasn’t it? And she’d covered enough of those in her time to know that the body shouldn’t be moved. The cops should be leaving it for the forensics people and other members of the crime scene investigation team. And come to think of it, what the hell were non-uniform police doing here anyway? There were six below her, another six taking care of the body. How could they have got here so quickly?
Something wasn’t right, and Alyssa knew immediately what it was: the twelve suits weren’t the police at all. They were here because they wanted to kill her. It was the only explanation that made sense; they were clearing the body before Karl could be identified, and they were waiting for her so that they could finish the job.
She checked around her, looking for avenues of escape. The faces on the ‘cops’ below her changed from expressions of welcoming helpfulness to ones of concern as she stopped moving towards them. She watched as they spoke into lapel microphones, listened to their earpieces, looked up at her again with even greater concern as she still refused to move.
Anxious, she scanned the area. The scaffold she was on was wrapped round one section of track and led all the way down to the ground. She was on the internal side of the scaffold but she noticed that the bare metal structure went further out into the park. She peered between the thick metal struts and saw that there were stalls below on the other side, the scaffold just feet away from the rear of their canvas coverings.
Without a second thought, she turned her body, twisting through the metal to head towards the outside of the structure. Gripping the metal tightly, she manoeuvred past the track and out into the abyss, nothing below her for thirty feet except exposed metal bars and the solid, unforgiving concrete of the park floor.
She heard the fake cops shouting to her from below, bellowing instructions for her to come back, but she ignored them and headed quickly for the other side of the scaffold. The people below her would have to head back out of the entrance and race all the way round the structure to get to her. She turned to look at them, saw that they were already setting off at a run. Trying to keep calm, she knew she would have less than a minute to escape.
Slipping her lithe body through the bars, she quickly got through to the outside of the ride, clinging tight to the struts as she looked at the small stalls beneath her. She knew she could climb down in a couple of minutes, but she also knew that this would be far too long; she only had about thirty seconds left before the killers would be there.
The sound of a ricochet and the hot spark of damaged metal jolted her, adrenalin flooding her system once more, rocketing her heart rate and making her palms instantly slick with sweat. She almost lost her grip and went sailing to the ground below, but just held on, years of climbing instinct hard-wired into her.
Sniper, she thought, and knew the people after her must be getting desperate. The shooter must have been positioned to fire at the inside of the tracks, and the shot had come through the scaffold at her, which explained how he’d missed. The guy must be an incredible shot just to get close under such conditions. Then there were more shots, sparks from the metal struts hitting her skin and burning her face.
Her reaction was instantaneous, and utterly unexpected to her pursuers. Taking one single, deep breath, she crouched down and jumped from the scaffolding towards the park below.
The s
niper watched as his target jumped from thirty feet. What was she thinking?
His view wasn’t ideal, the heavy metal of the scaffold obscuring much of it, but he could see that the woman hadn’t fallen. No, she had bent at the legs and intentionally jumped. Had the shots scared her into trying a suicidal escape?
Despite the extremely demanding conditions, he had still been disappointed to have missed. Anderson had ordered him to take the shot as soon as he knew the woman was heading away from the other agents, and he had done so, knowing that hitting her would be a miracle but wanting to do so all the same. It was not in his nature to accept missing his target.
But perhaps he hadn’t had to hit her anyway; she would be stone-cold dead as soon as she hit the concrete even without a bullet inside her.
Alyssa had purposefully propelled herself forwards, away from the scaffold, hoping to make several feet of distance as she plummeted earthwards.
As she sailed through the air, she prayed she’d jumped far enough; and then she was there, her feet reaching the stretched canvas roof of one of the amusement stalls on this side of the ride.
The fabric bent, and Alyssa’s heart dipped as she thought it would tear; but then she used the stored energy in her legs to jump again, pushing down against the taut canvas to dispel the force of gravity, and managed to somersault forwards, turning in mid-air to grab hold of the edge of the roof and swing her body round and down until she let go and dropped to the ground amidst a group of startled onlookers.
She saw the crowds parting beyond her and realized that the killers would be on her in seconds. Ignoring the offers of help from those around her, she turned to face the opposite direction and ran, pushing through the mass of people, desperate to get away, her heart pumping so violently she thought it was going to explode right out of her chest.
‘Status?’ Anderson asked twenty minutes later, every nerve shredded.
He knew the answer before it came through to him. ‘Negative,’ the reply came. ‘We lost her, sir. She’s nowhere to be found.’
Extinction Page 5
