I can make it.
Crawling faster, her elbows bloodied and knees scraping with every stretch, she rolled the final few feet. As the sound of the Mercedes’ engine roared, she reached out as far as she could, pressing the last button she hadn’t tried on the app.
She felt the grime and dirt from the road pressed between her finger and the phone’s screen as the car’s lights went black. She rolled towards the median as the roar of the car’s engine cut out, replaced by the sound of tires rolling along wet pavement.
The ignition kill switch. Thank God.
The dark, dead car sailed just inches by her face, finally slamming into the corner of an adjacent building with a smash of glass and metal. The Mercedes found its final resting place halfway up the set of stone stairs that sat next to a red, white, and blue ‘Underground’ signpost.
Haylie’s heart pounded as she curled up into a sitting position and grabbed her glasses off the pavement, feeling a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see a relieved Vector. She rose to her feet and ran towards the wreck, hobbling behind Vector as fast as she could manage.
She could see the airbags had deployed, knocking out the two men sitting in the front seats. They slumped over the deflating bags; she couldn’t tell if they were dead or alive.
As she approached, the two rear doors of the car cracked open. The Sterling brothers emerged from their respective sides of the back seat, blood smeared across each of their faces. They looked at Haylie, Benjamin giving her a forced smile.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said.
CHAPTER FORTY
Blackfriars Bridge - London
March 11th, 10:18PM
“I should have known,” Haylie yelled across the road in the rough direction of the Sterling brothers. “You two were behind this whole thing, weren’t you?”
As Haylie spoke, Vector traced his way around the far side of the car, keeping an eye on Walter and Benjamin while checking for any movement from the two men in the front seat.
“Haylie,” Walter stuttered as he took an awkward step towards her, stretching out a friendly arm. “It’s so great to see you.”
“Don’t,” she shouted back, “don’t even try it with me. Was it you, Walter? Were you the one that sent the agents in the National Gallery? Were you trying to stop me from finding Caesar?”
“No, no, Haylie. You’ve got it all wrong,” Benjamin interjected, bringing a hand to his forehead to check for injuries. “We were set up. The guys in there,” gesturing to the front seat, “Martin, he tricked us. He had us at gunpoint until you showed up.”
Haylie scowled. “Martin? So that’s Martin? He put my face
on every TV in the world.” She walked slowly towards the car, trying to get an angle on the man’s face.
“I think he’s been taken care of,” Benjamin said. “But there are more of them. And we can help.”
“Here’s the gun,” Vector yelled, picking up the pistol that had been ejected onto the stone steps. He flipped it into his palm, turning it over and on its side to inspect the finish. “Never held a gun before.” He raised his arm, pointing the pistol at the Sterling brothers.
“Who’s this guy?” Benjamin asked, looking over at Vector.
Haylie just stared back, shaking her head. “I don’t think you’re in any place to ask questions,” she said.
“Haylie,” Walter said, “there’s still time to stop this.”
Both brothers slowly walked towards Haylie with their hands extended, the lights above showing the shards of glass and cuts littering their faces.
“I know how it looks,” Walter continued. “Yes, we screwed you over, that was a mistake. But you have to understand, we’re on the same team now. We’ve been double-crossed; we want to stop Crowne as much as you do.”
“Crowne?” Haylie said. “Who’s Crowne?”
“Crowne’s behind this?” Vector said, looking over to Haylie. “He’s our PM—Prime Minister.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“He’s the one that created The Project,” Benjamin said. “It’s been his plan to seize power and switch the globe over to a one-world government. Everything—the Raven puzzle, the Iceland tests, Caesar’s disappearance—he’s been calling the shots all along.”
“And Caesar?” Haylie asked. “He’s with Crowne?”
“Yes,” Benjamin assured her. “The final step of the Raven puzzle led Caesar straight to their headquarters—they’re still holding him there. Crowne thought whoever could solve the puzzles could help them with this new society—help design the technology that’s going to be needed as they build out the next phase.”
“Unbelievable. So rude of him,” Vector said, looking down to the ground and chuckling. “Not very British of him at all, really.”
Haylie thought for a moment. “When is Crowne planning to cut the power?” she asked.
“Midnight tonight,” Benjamin said.
“But,” Walter interjected, “we know where he is. We can find him … we can stop him. Just, please, put the gun down and we can–”
A gunshot rang out in the air.
The brothers dove to the ground. Haylie snapped down to her knees, her hands over her ears. She looked over to Vector, wondering why on earth he had just pulled the trigger.
Vector stood with the pistol still extended, his left hand now clutching his side as he dropped the weapon. It fell to pavement. Vector slumped down onto the street, the weight of his body crumpled over his legs, his right arm extended out and over the curb.
“A prepared … man is a dangerous … man,” stuttered Martin, standing propped against the passenger-side car door with a small pistol pointed in Vector’s direction. Martin’s face, stained with trails of blood, contorted with rage as he moved the pistol’s aim towards Haylie.
“Sometimes, one gun isn’t enough,” Martin slurred.
> > > > >
Titanhurst - London
March 11th, 10:20PM
Standing at the edge of the engineering pit with Caesar at his side, Crowne straightened the cuffs of his jacket as he took in the activity below. Clearing his throat, he called for the team’s attention. The room fell silent as everyone turned from their work.
“We have less than two hours until the end of the world, everyone,” Crowne said. “Then it will be time for a new direction, a better path. I have some tough news tonight; unfortunately, Martin has shown himself to be a man that is susceptible to ideas—ideas that are contrary to our main objectives. He’s made poor decisions. It’s truly unfortunate, really.”
The room hummed as the monitors blinked with activity, unattended.
“Before Martin left, I had our security team install a remote detonation device in his vehicle,” Crowne continued. “I asked him to take care of the Sterling brothers, who were also, sadly, a liability. But I wasn’t fully confident that Martin would actually follow my orders. It seems my hunch was correct. They’ve been able to persuade him with the offer of finances or power, I’m not sure which. All I know is that I cannot have a high-functioning team with people I cannot trust.”
The room sat waiting for what was coming next.
“Sean, let’s get Martin’s location up on the screen, shall we please?”
Sean gestured to a young engineer on the other side of the room who had just pulled his earphones down around his neck. The main screen in the pit flickered and switched over to a map of London, with a single red dot pulsing on the North side of Blackfriars Bridge. Sean turned back to Crowne with his full attention, saying nothing.
“Caesar, I would like to make this official,” Crowne announced. “Martin has shown all of us tonight that he doesn’t have what it takes. His interests lie only in his position in the world: being elite, being special. He thinks that by being part of The Project, he is somehow worth more than others.”
Crowne placed his hand on Caesar’s shoulder, and Caesar felt his skin jolt at the touch.
“But you’re not a man like that,�
� Crowne said. “I’ve learned that about you. You understand that what we’re doing here is bigger than ourselves.”
Scanning the room, Caesar saw a few faint smiles of approval mixed with questions in the eyes of others. He looked back to the screen hanging above the pit, the single red dot, pulsing. Blinking in binary—dead then alive then dead again—over and over and over, without a sound.
“In the new world, we do not have time for these types of agendas. These types of people,” Crowne said. “Leadership takes sacrifice, and it takes hard decisions.”
The past two weeks—had it only been that long?—flashed through Caesar’s mind. How has it come to this? His heart pounded as the eyes of the room weighed down on him.
“Is….” Caesar struggled to get the words out. “Is Haylie with him?”
“No, she’s not. But one of the last things Martin said to me,” Crowne replied, “was that he was on his way to find your sister. He was going to stop her at all costs; he didn’t want her reaching headquarters. Martin fears people like Haylie.”
Caesar stared back at the screen, thinking. The dot blinked. And blinked. And blinked.
“Caesar,” Crowne whispered, turning his back to the rest of the team. “I need you to give the order.”
> > > > >
Blackfriars Bridge - London
March 11th, 10:22PM
“You thought … you thought you could walk in here at the last minute and ruin everything?” Martin screamed. “That you could stop what I’ve helped create?”
Haylie stood facing Vector, tears blurring her vision as she covered her face with her hands. She screamed his name, taking a step towards her only friend.
“Don’t move!” Martin shouted. “Stay right there. And you two—the wonder twins—get over by her.”
Benjamin and Walter paced backwards away from the car, hands elevated at their sides and palms facing Martin. They stopped next to Haylie by the center median. Haylie kept her eyes locked on Vector but couldn’t tell anything about his condition; he lay silent and slumped over, still as a stone in the night.
“I’ve been doing everything, everything, that has been asked of me for years.” Martin limped back towards the car, keeping the pistol locked on the group. His collar was stained a deep red, with blood flowing down from an open gash in his head.
Spit flew from his mouth as he screamed. “I gave up my life for this cause, for my mentor! Sacrifice. That’s what shows people what you’re made of. What have you ever sacrificed?”
He slumped back against the car and cocked the pistol. “The next step starts now. Too bad you won’t get to see it.”
As Martin raised a second hand to hold the gun steady, a loud click sounded from the Mercedes behind him. He turned just in time to see a fireball flowing from the undercarriage, igniting the gas tank with an ear-splitting explosion.
A wave of force sent the hood flying against the adjacent building as a push of hot air, glass, and metal shards sailed in all directions. Haylie and the brothers were thrown flat on their backs, lying in crumpled poses on the median. She spun away from the blast of heat that filled the air, as the night went dark once again.
A car door slammed to the ground directly next to Haylie’s head, shooting sparks on contact as the twisting smells of burning metal and plastic filled her nostrils. She felt heat on her arm and looked down to the sleeve of her jacket to see a small patch of fabric on fire. She frantically padded it with her other hand, rolling away from the burning metal and scrambling in any direction where she didn’t see flames.
Her ears rang and throbbed, overloaded from the shockwave that had hit the three of them. She tasted blood, and wiped at her mouth with her shoulder, seeing a small red smear soaking the olive tones of the fabric. She could make out Benjamin and Walter in the distance, both blown to the other side of the median, slowly rising to their feet, holding their ears with their hands.
Haylie raised her head from the asphalt to look back across the road, seeing Martin’s burning body—cut into pieces and thrown twenty feet from the car —in a lifeless heap on the adjacent sidewalk. It lay still and splayed, like a burning rag doll.
She looked away, focusing instead on the fire as it danced around the skeleton of the car’s frame, her eyes flicking along with the flames. She felt the heat rolling over the pavement, warming her face like a summer’s day in Texas, back at home lying out in her backyard.
Vector. You have to check on Vector.
Pushing her body back upright, Haylie sprinted down the road, stopping and crouching down by Vector’s side. Flipping him over, she placed her body between her friend and the heat of the burning car. His eyes were open, blinking, with a baseball-sized bloodstain soaking the shoulder of his jacket into a dark black pool.
“You’ll be okay,” she whispered, now almost able to hear herself as her hearing slowly returned. “You’ll be okay.”
Walter approached from the other side, dropping to his knees and reaching in to check Vector’s pulse. He watched Vector’s eyes as he felt for a heartbeat.
“He’s alive,” Walter said, out of breath. “He got lucky; it looks like the bullet hit his shoulder.” He pulled out his phone. “I should be able to get an ambulance here in about two minutes.”
“Okay, but seriously,” Benjamin said from behind Haylie’s shoulder. “Who is this guy?”
“None of your business,” she shot back, not even giving him the courtesy of turning around.
She held Vector, looking out into the blackness of the London night. The chilled, wet air from the Thames rolled across her, sending her hair flying back across her shoulders, as she huddled closer to her best friend. Her only friend.
It’s time to end this. It’s time to find Caesar, stop this madness, and go home.
“Haylie,” Benjamin said as he dusted himself off, “Crowne is dangerous. We need to stop him, and we need to go now, we don’t have much time.”
She rose from Vector’s side, turning back to face the heat of the burning wreckage. A siren sounded in the distance.
She knew what she had to do.
“Just get me in the front door. I’ll take care of the rest.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Titanhurst - London
March 11th, 11:52PM
My God, the time is almost here. Tomorrow will be a brand new day.
For such a key turning point in the history of the world, the halls of Titanhurst were surprisingly empty. Crowne had pictured the few moments before The Project’s start as a frantic push to finish last-minute tasks or convince leaders on the right course of action. But it had all been taken care of. Things were running perfectly, according to plan.
And now, for the first time since he could remember, he had nothing to do.
Crowne strolled down the halls, winding his way slowly towards his office. He would stop there to grab a few things and then he’d work his way to the control room, where he was sure to receive a hero’s welcome. And then, with Caesar’s help, he’d make the world go dark.
And then we begin the real work.
His mind wandered with each footstep as he thought back to just a few minutes earlier, rolling through the final status checkpoints with a collection of leaders from across the globe. As Crowne had paced in front of the giant screens, back and forth like a tiger in a cage, he had examined the faces of each Bilderberg leader. Faces chosen from all over the world, from all cultures. That’s when it finally hit him.
We’re leading the globe to the place it needs to be, but not with guns or bombs or tanks. We’re not doing it with tyranny; we’re doing it with a new sense of global cooperation. It’s a marvel.
Pacing leisurely through the halls, he dwelled on the one last loose end that hadn’t been wrapped up. That hacker—Crash, is that what she calls herself? —was still running loose out in the streets, probably scared for her life, with her face plastered across every television screen in the civilized world. She missed her chance … in a few minutes,
she’ll just blend in with the rest of the darkness.
Tracing his hand across the wallpaper’s gritty surface, up and down and into figure-eights like his daughter would do on a lazy Sunday morning, he drew a line towards his office as he glided towards the door. Crowne pulled his hand back into his pocket and eased his way in.
The echoing voices of the people—those poor, miserable, unknowing people—will finally stop ringing. I don’t even know what the world will sound like without their pathetic, constant cries for–
Turning, Crowne froze as he focused on the figure that rose from the couch, standing in the middle of the room. A smile crept across his face as he looked down to her knees and saw his laptop splayed open on the coffee table in front of her.
He knew that face—the one that Martin had showed him from the Morgan Library footage. Caesar’s sister.
It’s so lovely to finally meet the mighty Crash in the flesh.
The girl stood firm, arms locked forward and legs at shoulder width, aiming Martin’s pistol right at Crowne’s head.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Titanhurst - London
March 11th, 11:54PM
The pistol felt foreign in Haylie’s soft hands, cold and heavy. As she adjusted her grip to something more like she had seen on TV, the metal bit into her palms. She brought one hand back to push her glasses up on her nose, quickly returning to a two-handed grip as they stared each other down.
“Hi,” she said. “Been looking for me?”
Raising his hands in a move of mimicked surrender, Crowne laughed. “I believe I have. You must be the girl calling herself Crash, is that right? It’s good to finally meet you; let’s sit down and talk for a bit?”
Crash Alive (The Haylie Black Series Book 1) Page 27
