Myron nodded in agreement to Gerick’s last statement. It was right that Gerick take point for this stage of their mission.
‘Gerick, thank you!’ Myron said. ‘We will head out tomorrow night, an hour before curfew. That is the safest time, as the bustle of people fleeing the patrols will be at its highest then!’
The Independent Mind looked on the plan with deep satisfaction as a whole, relishing the thought of how close they were to carrying out their objective.
‘When we return with the weaponry, those of us that can, will train you on how to use them, down to the last detail,’ Myron added.
*
Myron and the others huddled together for a final prayer, five minutes remaining before they moved out. It was going to be the riskiest move they had made so far in their ongoing battle with the Government, and they needed all the help they could get from the celestial being that was God himself.
‘May the powers that be, protect us in what we are about to undertake,’ Myron said quietly. Jen looked up at him, and revelled in his majesty.
‘Let’s do this!’ Jen added, with a smug smile on her face. They all put their hands on top of Myron’s and let out a defiant whoop!
Quickly, and with no further reservations about the danger that lay ahead, the seven operatives moved out of Ryker’s into the back alley. They waited for the opportunity to mingle, which didn’t take long as the bustle was growing with people urgently moving from one place to the other to get out of sight. Charing Cross station was within reach and appeared overcrowded, but it didn’t hinder Myron, Jen or the others in any way. To the contrary, it only helped them. The crowds heading to the station had created a smokescreen for them to effectively hide behind.
‘Come on, guys, not far to go now!’ Myron remarked. ‘A few more feet and we are home and dry.’
Once in the underground station, they were free to go about their business without having to worry about being set upon. Weaving in and out of the tunnels with the wiry scientist in the lead, they sprinted like racehorses toward the grate that led to Gerick’s office.
The entry point was looming, but the grate was not where Gerick had left it. He could recall replacing it when he left his post a week earlier. Maybe he hadn’t put it back properly, or someone had found his escape route. Either way, there was no turning back now; there was also enough of them to handle any situation that might arise from their risky venture. Gerick did not air his concerns, but carried on regardless.
‘Here we are!’ Gerick said, with a hint of trepidation attached to his voice. ‘Ladies first!’
Jen pushed her way through, and gave Gerick her usual distrusting look as she clambered up and through the hole in the wall. One by one, the others followed.
They entered the darkness of what used to be Gerick’s office. All that remained were the hundred or so cryogenic chambers with the fully-grown army of clones that Gerick had given life to before he absconded. The ricin mix would only take effect once the clones had been deployed onto the streets.
‘Wow!’ Jen exclaimed. ‘You’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you?’
A hint of sarcasm was evident in her tone, but Gerick chose to ignore her.
Once through to the office, Gerick pulled the only leftover piece of furniture—a broken chair—toward the grate in the ceiling that led to the overhead crawlspace. The cameras that used to spy upon Gerick while he was working, had been removed.
Gerick climbed up first, followed directly by Myron and the others as adrenalin rushed through their veins. Slowly they moved through the crawlspace, trying not to make a sound as they crawled overhead. They looked down at the unsuspecting Government workers as they did so.
‘Only four hundred yards to go,’ Gerick whispered to Myron. ‘The old buildings are closed off to all personnel—have been for years—so once we hit that area, we’re free to climb down for the last one hundred yards.’
The realisation that the plan was actually underway and snag-free so far hit Myron all at once; he couldn’t have imagined getting this far without the support of his operatives and friends. He thought of the brave new future—without the tyrant John Howard in control—as they made their way through the last few yards via the crawlspace.
‘We’re here!’ Gerick crowed triumphantly. ‘Let’s get down to ground level.’
One by one they jumped down, landing as softly and noiselessly as possible just in case there were guards about.
‘This way!’ Gerick pointed east by way of direction to the weaponry. ‘Only about fifty yards to go!’
Less than three minutes later, Gerick stopped in his tracks and looked up. There they were, perched ten feet up on a mezzanine platform in the rafters: box upon box of dynamite, pistols, rifles, and ammunition aplenty.
‘There’s a spring-loaded, pull-down staircase at the top of the mezzanine,’ Gerick said.
‘Lonny, give me a boost, will you,’ Myron asked. ‘I’ll fetch the munitions down to you!’
Lonny clasped his dinner plate hands together and squatted a little. Myron placed his foot in the stirrup that Lonny had made, and was swiftly boosted. He released the steps down to the floor. Lonny climbed half way up them, ready for the first weapons to be passed.
Piece after piece, Myron passed enough munitions to arm all the operatives and enough dynamite to blow the Parliament buildings to smithereens. With enough weaponry to carry between the seven of them, Myron made his descent down the steps to the others. Gerick took hold of the staircase and pulled it down slightly to trigger the retraction device. With a swift, sharp movement, they shot back up to the rafters again.
‘Let’s get out of here!’ Myron urged. ‘We have half an hour left before curfew!’
‘Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t we?’ Jen piped up. ‘It took us nearly an hour to get here. What makes you think it is going to take us half an hour to get back—especially with the extra weight!’
‘We’re going to have to take our chances beyond eight-thirty, aren’t we!’ Myron snapped back.
Myron and the others ran towards the crawlspace with a sense of urgency. How they were going to get the weaponry and themselves in was something that Myron hadn’t thought about. Gerick was apprehensive. With the amount of munitions they had, it was going to be difficult to get through the crawlspace without making any noise.
‘There is another way to get out of here,’ Gerick said, ‘but it will be a messy venture.’
‘You lead, Gerick, and we’ll follow!’ Myron replied.
Gerick led them back towards the old building, and a derelict sewer duct. He removed the grate that led down to it and was hit by the foulest of stenches. For safety’s sake, they were going to have to endure it. The sewer would lead them to within ten meters of Ryker’s back entrance, and out of sight of the patrols.
One by one, they jumped down into it, each holding onto his or her share of the weaponry for dear life. They made every effort not to drop anything along the way.
*
It hadn’t taken them long to get back to the safety of Ryker’s, but the stink that they brought in with them turned even the strongest of stomachs. Jonah was disgusted with them all for daring to enter his establishment in their odoriferous state.
‘What the hell!’ Jonah snapped. ‘How dare you bring that smell in here? Put that shit down and get your arses into the basement—all of you!’
Myron, Jen and the others did as they were told, not wanting to push Jonah any further than they already had. The munitions acquired were put on one of the back tables, and they proceeded down to the basement. Jonah followed them down after grabbing his high-pressure hose, used primarily for cleaning bar equipment
‘Get your arses against the back wall!’ he hissed. When they had complied, he turned the hose on them.
They let out a collective screech as the high-pressure jet of water hit them, but it was doing the trick. They were clean enough although the stink was still apparent, if only slightly.
‘
That’s better! Can’t smell you quite so much now!’
Jonah dropped the hose and went back upstairs to tend his bar, leaving Myron and the others pinned up against the wall, shivering with cold.
A few minutes passed by, and not one of them had moved back up to the bar. It was Myron’s hope that Jonah would at least find them some clean clothes, but no such luck.
‘Jonah!’ Jen yelled in frustration ‘What the hell! I’m dying down here!’
‘What do you want from me?’ was the muted response.
‘Some dry clothes would be nice!’ Jen shot back.
Jonah left the bar momentarily to find something suitable for the seven operatives to wear. He couldn’t have them turning hypothermic on him.
The only problem he had was finding something for Jen and Lonny to wear; she was far too small for the clothes he had, and Lonny was far too big. Jen would have to put up with loose-fitting clothes, but he doubted that Lonny could even fit his head through the hole of one of his T-shirts.
‘Here! Try these on.’ Jonah threw a set of clothing to each of them. ‘Toss us your dirties! I’ll stick ’em in the washer!’
Jen was reluctant to strip down to her underwear in front of so many males, but Jonah quickly disabused her of any false modesty.
‘Hurry up, you silly bird,’ he said. ‘You ain’t got nothin’ we ain’t seen!’ Myron and the others roared with laughter at Jen’s expense.
Lonny had managed to squeeze into Jonah’s clothes, stretching them beyond repair. Jen wasn’t into clothes more befitting a clown, but she was going to have to put up with it. Jonah’s togs fitted the others almost perfectly.
Their dirty clothes were tossed over to Jonah for washing.
‘The sooner I get my clothes back, the better!’ Jen griped, tugging on the oversized T-shirt while trying to prevent the trousers from falling around her ankles.
‘I suppose you want a belt, do you?’ Jonah grunted.
Jen just stared and said nothing. Myron knew that face all too well.
‘Don’t say a word, Jen!’ he whispered in her ear.
‘Wasn’t going to, Myron!’ she whispered back.
All of them made their way back up to the bar and prepared to distribute the weaponry.
‘Right, guys!’ Myron cried. ‘All of you, come over here. Those of us with experience are going to give you all a crash course on how to use these weapons.’
They drilled for hours, going over stance, loading, safety, and firing procedures until everyone considered themselves at least competent. Obviously they couldn’t fire off shots as the noise would arouse the patrols, but the training session they had been given was sufficient for one night’s work.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Three hours remained before Big Ben struck the midnight hour, ushering in the year 2047, and heralding The Independent Mind’s final, most important mission. Everybody was in an intense state of readiness for what lay ahead, both physically and mentally. No one, not even battle-hardened Lonny, was immune to the jitters as ‘Operation: Independence Day’ neared.
Myron had been in the back room with Jane Meyer for most of the day, interrogating her about where she was going the night he caught her. For the umpteenth time, she had refused to answer any questions. Myron wasn’t brutal; no harm had come to her, aside from the abuse Jen had inflicted on her. Jane was not privy to ‘Operation: Independence Day’, nor would she be.
With time of the essence, Myron took his leave of Jane to rally his operatives for one final time before moving out.
‘Everyone, down in the basement,’ Myron ordered. ‘We need to make final preparations for tonight.’
Jen was the first to get up, followed swiftly by Lonny, Lawrence, and the other Mind operatives. Even Jonah wanted to hear what Myron had to say.
Myron was the last to enter the basement, and was welcomed by a raucous ovation from his peers for his tireless work for the cause. Jen heartily joined in this outpouring of adulation and respect, although she had worked just as hard to bring the final episode to fruition.
‘Thank you, everyone, but we haven’t finished yet!’ Myron said. ‘I have one more thing I need to say before we move out. Oscar will not be with us tonight. He met with a tragic and untimely death, which we will avenge tonight!’
A collective gasp rose from the group. Some shook their heads in disbelief. Others murmured amongst themselves. Jonah, who had earlier guessed that Myron wasn’t being completely forthcoming about Oscar’s absence, took the youth’s death to heart.
‘What happened to the boy?’ he demanded to know. A chorus of voices echoed his sentiment.
‘He was a casualty of Howard’s iron fist,’ Myron said quietly. ‘We believe Dr. Simon Besson implanted a time-delayed explosive device in his neck, which ultimately went off. His end was as grisly as you can imagine. The device was also responsible for Oscar’s odd behaviour in recent weeks. In short, he gave his life to the cause—and tonight, we dedicate the final chapter of The Independent Mind’s illustrious career to his memory!’
With tears in his eyes, Lonny cried: ‘For Oscar! Death to John Howard!’ All joined in the chant. Myron was pleased; he knew Oscar’s martyrdom would stir his operatives’ blood.
Jen sidled up to Myron and held onto his hand.
‘We need to do more than avenge Oscar. We need to make him the hero tonight!’ Jen chimed in. ‘Myron and I witnessed his demise, and I need him to be part of this!’
Myron turned to Jen and smiled.
‘We will retrieve his body from the warehouse and take him with us tonight!’ Myron added. ‘It will be found within the Parliamentary ruins for all to see. I have made up a waistcoat of dynamite that we will strap to his body before we go. His name will be the only name that goes down in history! And you, Lawrence, will be the one who finds him in the rubble the next morning.’
‘But it’s not likely there’ll be anything left of him,’ Lawrence protested. ‘His body will be obliterated by the blast!’
‘True, but the dog tags from his stint on the front line will hopefully survive,’ Myron observed. ‘That will suffice to identify Oscar, the well-known radical, as the architect of the destruction.’
Everybody nodded in agreement with Myron’s sound reasoning.
‘Everybody! Grab your weapons of choice, and conceal them well. Gerick, Lonny, and Lawrence, grab the rest of the dynamite. You all know what you have to do!’ Myron cried as he rallied them for the final onslaught. At first it was a free-for-all with everybody scrambling for the same items, but Lonny threatened to crack heads and the distribution became less frantic.
‘Move out!’ Myron yelled. ‘We’ll see you on the other side!’
*
Myron and Jen took a separate direction from the others, moving freely and without having to duck and dive as they headed towards the old warehouse to retrieve Oscar’s body. They had always promised him that he would be a part of the Government’s destruction, as it had been his greatest wish from the beginning. The martyrdom they were going to bestow on him as a result of his work would’ve been his greatest honour.
With the warehouse in sight, and nothing to hinder them, Myron and Jen ran as fast as they could towards the entrance. Upon opening the door, they were hit with the stench of rotting flesh, a smell they were all too familiar with.
‘Oh, God!’ Jen gasped. ‘I’ve never known Oscar to smell so bad.’
She was trying desperately not to show her true emotions by making light of the situation. With Jen, once she had shed tears for someone, she shed them no more.
‘That wasn’t funny, Jen!’ Myron replied sternly. ‘Let’s get him and go!’
Myron took out his flashlight and made his way over to where he had hidden Oscar’s body, lifting the floorboards to reveal his remains. The beam fell upon the youth’s half-severed head, revealing a huge, writhing colony of maggots gorging on gray matter. The disgusting sight was too much for Myron, who projectile-vomited his earlier snack.
‘Way to go, namby-pamby,’ Jen jeered.
‘Oh, shut up!’ replied Myron, quickly recovering.
Luckily, there was still enough of a body to make their plan feasible in the aftermath of the New Year’s Eve celebrations.
They lifted him up quickly. Jen had the foresight to bring the duct tape with her—how else were they going to keep his head from falling off as they dragged him to his martyrdom? She had the grisly task of emptying his head of its inhabitants and taping what was left of it to his decaying body. Jen took the tatty scarf she had round her neck and placed it around Oscar’s to hide the tape. She took off Oscar’s threadbare coat and placed it on him, not caring that she was freezing cold herself.
‘Jen, he has no need for his coat—you do!’ Myron took hold of Oscar and took the coat off his body. ‘Put it back on, you’ll catch your death!’
‘But it’s his coat, Myron, and it needs to be on him to cover the dynamite!’ she snapped.
‘Not yet, it doesn’t,’ Myron replied calmly. ‘You wear it until that time comes.’
Jen put the coat back on and wrapped herself tightly in it to alleviate the chill. Myron took off his coat and relieved himself of the jumper he was wearing, and placed that on Oscar instead.
‘Come on, let’s get back to the others—the time is drawing near,’ Myron said, as he grabbed one side of Oscar’s body, and Jen the other.
Slowly, they headed towards Charing Cross station, to enter and make their way towards Gerick’s office again. Myron had the idea that Oscar’s body should be put among the other weaponry, especially the remaining dynamite on the mezzanine floor in the old House of Lords. That would trigger an explosion of maximum effect.
Lonny, Gerick and Lawrence were in the process of strategically placing their several bundles of dynamite along the foundations of the Parliament buildings, giving them long enough fuses to be able to get out and safely way in the open before they exploded.
Going Underground Page 35
