23 REVENGE
Refusing to move, Amy nodded towards Winter and asked, “Who’s she?”
Jordan smiled nervously. “Her name’s Winter.”
“What sort of a name is that?”
“She’s okay,” Jordan said. “Really.”
“I bet it’s a name like Jordan Stryker. Made up. Does she know who you are?”
Jordan nodded. Keeping his voice down, he said, “But it’s important you don’t let her know that you do as well. Very important.”
Amy didn’t ask why. She was still too annoyed. She also looked worried. “Is she some sort of cop? Is she going to ask what I did on the boat?”
“It’s all right,” Jordan replied as the trawler chugged away from the jetty. “No one’s going to blame you. Trust me...”
“Trust you? How can I trust you now?”
“I’ll explain, Amy. At least, I’ll try. Honest. Jordan Stryker, Winter, everything. But not here. Not now.” Noticing that his Unit Red handler had disappeared into the van, Jordan said to Amy, “Come on. Winter’ll take us home.”
But Amy stayed where she was, looking at the revolver in her hand. Making up her mind, she drew her arm back, ready to launch the evidence into the sea.
She was about to throw it as far as she could when someone behind her snatched the weapon from her grasp.
Jordan twisted round and gasped in shock as he came face-to-face with Melissa Pink. The gang leader had sneaked out from the bushes and for once touched one of her enemies. In a slick move, she hooked one arm around Amy’s neck and pushed the barrel of the gun against her head with the other.
It was exactly how Jordan had threatened Melissa Pink on the trawler.
She dragged her victim a few steps away from Jordan. Her expression was contorted with rage and she was dripping seawater like blood. Her long hair was flattened against her head and shoulders. A tangled piece of seaweed gave her a bizarre green ribbon. She was shaking and wild growling noises came from her nose and throat. But she also looked triumphant.
Jordan was numb. He thought that Melissa was going to kill Amy right there in front of him, just three or four metres away. She was certainly in the mood to kill someone.
Slowly, her mouth curved into a smile and she shook her head at him. “No, I’m not going to shoot your precious girlfriend. Not yet.”
With horror, Jordan watched Melissa turn the gun towards him until it was pointing straight at his face. That cold metal barrel was all he saw. It blanked out everything else from his vision. The last thing he would see was an emerging bullet and a puff of smoke.
Melissa Pink milked the moment. “This is so easy,” she said. “No challenge at all, but immensely satisfying.” She squeezed the trigger.
Two loud bangs made Jordan jump. But there was no pain, no sudden impact. Just two gunshots echoing in his head like a death knell.
First, Amy slumped forwards and then Melissa jerked sideways. Both crumpled onto the wooden surface of the jetty.
Still groggy, Jordan couldn’t work out exactly what had happened. He saw Winter sprinting from the van to the jetty. He heard her shout, “I had no choice.” He saw blood spreading. Some of it was his, coming from his open wounds. The rest collected between Amy and Melissa.
Amy had rolled oddly onto her back. Her arms and legs were splayed out on the ground. She seemed to be staring up at the sky. But she wasn’t. Her eyes had glazed over.
That was all that Jordan saw. Shock and exhaustion got the better of him. He blacked out.
On one side of Jordan was a stone angel, standing on a plinth. Like Jordan, the winged boy was missing a right arm. On the other side was a row of grubby headstones at odd angles. They reminded him of rotten teeth.
He imagined that, when she was thirteen, Amy would have gone to his funeral. Yet he was still here. Alive. Lying on the ground of Highgate Cemetery. And where was Amy? Lying on a cold slab in a pathology laboratory. But Jordan would not be able to go to her funeral when her body was released to her family. He could not risk the Goss family asking him difficult questions.
Jordan thumped the earth. He had died and come back to life. He could not get used to the idea that Amy would not do the same. The bullet had done too much damage. Modern medicine had come to his rescue, but apparently it couldn’t help Amy.
In his head, Jordan could still hear Winter’s explanation of what she had done. “I was by the van. Melissa Pink was about to kill you. I couldn’t let that happen, Jordan. But she was holding Amy in front of her. I had to go through Amy. It was a snap decision. There was no other way.”
Winter had been totally successful. Her first bullet had passed through Amy’s body and wounded Melissa before she could fire. A moment later, the second had killed the gangster outright.
Amy was no longer a security risk. No longer an embarrassment to Unit Red. She was no longer upset with Jordan. No longer waiting for an explanation for his strange behaviour and appearance. She was no longer his secret friend.
His shoulders shaking, Jordan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could not escape the thought that, if he’d really died and been buried in a place like this cemetery, Amy would still be alive. But he’d cheated death and somehow they’d swapped fates. He felt guilty, nauseous and numb. He felt that the world was carrying on without him.
Still grieving for his old friend, Jordan slumped into a chair in the bunker. He didn’t even have half a right arm any more. The upper part had been unscrewed from his shoulder and removed for repair. Once fixed, it would be reattached to the forearm that Winter had rescued from the ground between the silos. Then he would get a complete refit.
It seemed that Angel was saying sorry to him for the hundredth time. “I can’t tell you how much I regret what happened. It’s always dreadful when an innocent life... I know Amy meant a lot...”
The estuary explosion had damaged Jordan’s eyes but apparently it had not damaged his tear ducts. He felt tears welling up yet again. “Winter shot Amy. It wasn’t an accident. But you said killing’s never the first choice.”
“That’s perfectly true, Jordan. But we’ve been through this before. Melissa Pink wasn’t drowned. She was alive with a firearm. She turned it on you and she was about to fire. Did you have any doubt she was going to kill you?”
“No,” Jordan admitted.
“That’s not a situation Winter could tolerate. Shooting was her only choice. It was justified and I would have done the same.”
Of course, it wasn’t the story that had emerged in the news. The gangster, Melissa Pink, had shot a rival’s daughter and then a police marksman had shot her. No mention of Winter, Jordan or Unit Red.
“But did she have to...”
“I’m afraid so. If Pink had been taller than Amy, Winter would have had a line of sight for a head shot. But she wasn’t. Holding Amy in front of her, there was no direct target.” Sympathetically, Angel added, “Look, I can’t make you feel any better about it, but I’ve got some good news.”
Jordan did not show any interest.
Carrying on, Angel said, “Forensics analysed the metal fragments of Lightfoot’s Windsong bomb. They were identical to the parts salvaged from the device planted on the wreck of the Richard Montgomery.”
At once, Jordan looked up. “So, there’s a link to the estuary blast?”
“A strong link. And you were right about a remote control. They got it out of the River Crouch. It’s a type that would have been capable of setting off the Thames bomb. So, that’s the physical evidence that wraps it up. You got your man. I’m impressed.”
Jordan closed his eyes for a moment and, despite everything, allowed himself to feel relieved that he had uncovered the truth. Then he looked at Angel. “I still want to go and see him.”
Angel shook his head. “The answer’s still the same. I wouldn’t blame you – and I wouldn’t be surprised – if you wanted to murder him.”
“He wouldn’t suffer if he died. And I want him to suffer.”
“But you might change your mind when you get up close. I can’t risk what you’d do. I have to bear in mind that, in a way, you’re fitted with a lethal weapon.”
That was what Melissa Pink had called his robotic arm. But Jordan looked down at his sagging sleeve. “I’m not at the moment.”
Angel hesitated. “I suppose not.”
“I’ve got to hear him admit what he’s done.”
“Will it really help – or just bring everything back?”
“It’ll help.”
Angel sighed and then took two deep breaths. “Well, I understand he’s conscious now. If you go before your arm gets refitted...”
“Thanks.”
“I want you to cool off for the rest of the day. I’ll tell his police guard you’re on your way tomorrow morning. They’ll be under orders to stay outside, watching your every move.”
“All right.” Jordan’s shrug was awkward and lopsided. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything bad.”
Norman Lightfoot was a very special patient. He had his own private room in the hospital. Two police officers were stationed permanently outside. One faced the corridor. One watched him through the glass. Both were armed. In a way, the hospital room was a prison cell, but its occupant was not capable of escaping or going anywhere.
Jordan had worked out for himself why the battered prisoner was under guard for twenty-four hours a day. If anyone found out who he was and what he’d done, the police might have to protect him from people bent on revenge. Norman Lightfoot would not be short of enemies. His police guards, like Angel, might even mistake Jordan for someone who wanted to take the law into his own hands.
But the law wasn’t on Jordan’s mind.
He walked slowly up to the bed and looked down on the feeble creature lying in it. Lightfoot wasn’t like a rugby player any more. He looked broken.
In a way, Jordan had got what he wished for. He always wanted the bomber to go through the same pain and suffering as he had. Right now, Norman Lightfoot looked as hurt as Ben Smith had been.
His face was a curious purple colour. There were tubes everywhere. Some dripped liquids in, some took liquids away. Monitors beeped and hummed. The sound of suspended life. A fragile life, supported by machine and medicine. There was a strange smell of disinfectant and decay.
As Jordan watched in silence, Norman’s eyes opened. They were dull like the eyes of a zombie in a horror film.
“Do you recognize me?” Jordan asked.
Lightfoot’s head moved just a little. It was a faint nod.
“I never got to tell you that you destroyed my family. All dead. And you nearly killed me.”
The eyes closed and then opened again. There was hurt in them, but Jordan wasn’t sure if Lightfoot was feeling physical pain or the pain of remorse.
“I know you did it. The estuary explosion. There’s forensic evidence. I need to hear you admit it.”
There was no resistance left in this helpless stranded creature. He made the same movement again and his lips parted. A wispy voice said, “It was me. Yes.”
Jordan shivered. “I know why you did it. To get your revenge on the company, the ship, the new captain and the crew.”
The craggy head shifted again, acknowledging Jordan’s words.
“It was nothing to do with me or my family. It was nothing to do with most of the people you killed. Why take it out on so many?”
“I didn’t mean to...”
“You were just going for Ocean Courage?”
Tears formed in those dead eyes. He mumbled, “I didn’t realize how big... I’m sorry.”
So, he’d miscalculated. He wasn’t quite the monster he could have been, but Jordan was still appalled. “There were thirty people on that ship.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Do you think saying sorry makes things okay?”
His head rocked slightly from side to side.
“I could smash all this gear and pull the tubes out in a couple of seconds. I’m glad I’d have to use my real arm. It’d feel good to do it with flesh and blood. The police and doctors would rush in, but I don’t know if they’d be quick enough to save you. Let’s face it. A lot of people would beg me to do it while I’ve got the chance. Don’t you think I’ve got every right?”
“Yes,” he croaked. The word was barely audible but Jordan could hear without leaning close to his mouth.
Jordan shook his head. “No chance. I’m not giving you an easy way out. And I hope no one else does.” He hesitated and then said, “But what about you? Why did you set off the bomb on Windsong?”
“I was...I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“You weren’t trying to kill yourself?”
“No.”
“Good,” said Jordan. “You’ll get better. You’ll learn to walk again. You’ll have bad days. You’ll hurt like hell, but not as much as the people whose lives you ruined by murdering their family and friends. You’ll know how much they hate you, though. You’ll feel their disgust. And they’ll never forgive you. Never. You’ll go to prison for the rest of your life.” Determined to control his temper, Jordan gazed steadily into Norman Lightfoot’s face. “You know what? I almost feel sorry for you.”
His mission over, Jordan turned and left the room.
24 HIGHGATE
Jordan’s robotic arm had been refitted. He had become whole again, yet in many ways he was still incomplete. His right hand could once more pick up a spider without killing it or smash violently through a door panel but, from shoulder to fingertip, it wasn’t really his arm. He was living in the Highgate house, but it didn’t really feel like home. He was safely among Angel and the other agents, but they were no substitute for Amy and his family.
Angel said to him, “You’ve done well. Better than I had any right to expect. I want you to be happy in Unit Red. So, now your arm’s back in action, I’ve got something and someone to show you.”
“Oh?”
“Here’s your new ID.”
At first glance, the small rectangle of plastic looked the same as the one he already had. Puzzled, Jordan asked, “What’s different about it?”
“You’ve had a change of birthday. Same day, different year. You’re seventeen.”
Then it dawned on him. It was something that Winter had said to him when they’d first set out for Lower Stoke in her Audi. It seemed a long time ago.
Angel led the way down the stairs to the back of the house that faced Swain’s Lane. At ground-level, there was a secure door. Once Angel had entered the code, he stood to one side and said, “After you.”
Jordan reached out with his reconditioned right arm. Controlling the power so he didn’t break the handle, he pulled the door open. What he saw inside wasn’t simply a garage. It was a large area that could house three cars. Part of it was an engineering workshop. Ramps, computers, tyres, car parts, welding equipment, all sorts of contraptions. And two engineers. One of them had her back towards him but her head and shoulders were vaguely familiar. When Jordan and Angel entered and the door closed behind them, she turned round.
Open-mouthed, Jordan gasped.
“Hello, Jordan,” she said. “Good to see you again.”
Jordan was staring in disbelief at the missing firefighter and the woman who had saved his life. Unit Red had not killed her or exiled her in a foreign country. “You’re Deborah...”
“She’s our newest recruit,” Angel said, interrupting. “And you’re wrong about her name. She’s Kate Stelfox. In a Unit Red sort of way.”
Kate smiled at Jordan. “You and me, we’ve got something in common.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve both got to leave a life behind.”
“Why you?”
“Because I know too much about you. I had a choice. I could disappear to another country or I could join the club.” She shrugged. “Here I am.”
With a wry expression, Jordan nodded.
“Not much point dwelling on the pa
st,” she said. “Might as well enjoy what’s in front of us.”
Jordan knew it was true. He’d already got used to leaving Ben Smith behind, but it was hard to let Amy and his family go. Right now, one of his mum’s mottos came to his mind. Life isn’t a rehearsal so make the most of what you’ve got. He muttered, “I guess so.”
Wiping her hands on a rag, Kate added, “But you haven’t come down to see me. You’ve come to see that.” She pointed towards the nearest car. “It’s a modified Jaguar. A much modified Jaguar. An awesome piece of work.”
Jordan stared at Kate, Angel and the sports car in turn.
Angel said, “Well, you’ve got to get around somehow. And, given what’s happened, I thought it’d be better to put a bit of distance between you and Winter. Kate’s your new handler. And driving instructor.”
“I’ll just get out of these overalls,” she said, “and we can go for a spin. Okay?”
Jordan nodded eagerly. “More than okay.”
“We’ll have to stop somewhere and buy L-plates.” Kate paused and added, “I feel like a Unit Red learner as well.”
Jordan wasn’t really listening. He ran his left hand along the roof of the Jaguar. It felt solid and sleek. It wasn’t a dream. It was as real as his strange new life in Unit Red.
As one of Angel’s agents, Jordan had immense power and privilege, but he would also face immense danger and difficulty. He accepted it, though, because there was no other way forward. He accepted that he was part-human, part-machine because there was no tolerable alternative. He also accepted that there would be more enhancements to come. He might even look forward to them.
“Can I get in?”
“Sure,” Angel replied. “Try out the driver’s seat.”
Jordan slipped inside and took a deep breath. The car smelled of new leather. It also oozed style and energy. He put his feet on the pedals and his hands on the steering wheel – and he smiled.
Bionic Agent Page 17
