The gunship was turning head-on towards Warsuit 1.0, with obvious hostile intent.
Chapter Ten
“They’ve locked on to us,” said Wes. “I’m being ‘painted’ with multiple laser target designators. The crew’s radioed their base. They’re requesting permission to proceed.”
“Proceed with opening fire on us, you mean?”
“And that’s a pretty serious-looking payload they’re carrying. Enough to do some damage even to me.”
“Oh God,” said Od, fighting down panic. “Why? I don’t get this at all. First they want to steal you, now they want to destroy you?”
“Listen in.”
Wes relayed the T-Cellers’ radio conversation over the loudspeaker.
“… repeat, we have the objective in our sights, sir. The Warsuit is at our mercy.” This was the gunship’s captain talking.
“And there’s absolutely no alternative?” drawled a deep, aristocratic voice. It spoke with the suave self-assurance of someone who had known all his life that he was born to lead and give orders. “No way we can acquire it in one piece now?”
“That’s a negative, Mr d’Arc. Somebody got to the suit before we did. I don’t understand how, because there wasn’t supposed to be anybody in that lab. But, whoever it is, they’ve already shown aggressive behaviour. They took out the entire strike team.”
“I’m aware of that, Hexaflyer Bravo Tango. I’ve been following the action via the live feeds from their helmet cams. Frankly, those men got what they deserved for their incompetence. And mark my words, it won’t be their only punishment.”
The man called d’Arc heaved a world-weary sigh.
“Well, if T-Cell can’t have the suit, I don’t see why anyone else should either. Besides, we have the brains behind the whole project staying as our guest here. We just have to persuade him to co-operate with us. Then all our problems are solved.”
“Dad,” Od murmured. “That’s Dad he’s talking about.”
“I think you’re right,” said Wes.
“So by all means,” continued d’Arc, “obliterate the Warsuit. Leave nothing of it behind, not so much as a single rivet. Reduce it to slag.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“And Hexaflyer Bravo Tango? Don’t mess up. One fiasco is more than enough for one night.”
“Yes, sir,” said the gunship captain with an audible gulp. “Hexaflyer Bravo Tango over and out.”
“They’re priming missiles, Od,” said Wes. “Hi-ex warheads. We have less than five seconds.”
“Get us out of here!” Od yelled.
“Routing power to main thrusters. Lift-off in three, two, one…”
Warsuit 1.0 began to roar and shake violently. At once, Od felt an incredible pressure bearing down on him from above. It was as if someone had thrown an invisible tarpaulin over him and was pulling down hard on the corners. He seemed to have doubled in weight. Just keeping his head up took a supreme effort, the muscles in his neck aching with the strain. He tried to scream but even his voice had become too heavy and the cry remained trapped in his throat.
His vision was a blur but he could just make out the screen images. They leapt about crazily. Landscape and sky competed to see which could take up more screen space.
Then, just when Od was beginning to think he couldn’t stand it any longer, things calmed a bit. The roar lessened. The shaking got smoother. There was a sensation of bumpy, energetic progress, like being in a car riding over a gravel driveway full of potholes.
On the main screen he saw the moors gliding by below. Roads glimmered in the dim pearly grey light, narrow as pencil strokes. Trees were tiny asterisks. Here and there was a house, no bigger than a Tetris block.
“Flying,” he said softly. “We’re actually flying.”
“Yes,” said Wes. “Sorry about the acceleration. Hope the g-force wasn’t too unpleasant. I had to use maximum thrust. Otherwise we’d be nothing but wreckage right now.”
“Flying,” repeated Od. He didn’t know whether he was terrified or exhilarated. It was a bit of both, he decided.
“We’re travelling at four hundred miles per hour, cruising at an altitude of five thousand feet. You’re quite safe. Nothing to worry about. I’ve put a good distance between us and that gunship, that Hexaflyer thing, and even if it tries to catch up, the Warsuit has a radar cross-section of almost zero. As an added precaution I’m elevating into that cloud layer ahead. We’ll be invisible to both electronic detection and the naked eye.”
Od almost said, “Flying,” a third time. But then his phone sang its ringtone, the chorus of Green Day’s “Know Your Enemy”.
“You have an incoming call,” Wes said.
“Yeah. Nothing I can do about it. Kind of hard to reach my phone at the moment.”
“I can help.”
A large version of his phone’s display appeared on a screen in front of Od. UNKNOWN CALLER, it said.
“You want to take it?” Wes asked.
“I’m five thousand feet above the ground in a one-person, man-shaped aircraft. Of course I’ve got time to chat.”
Even as he delivered the quip, Od had a sudden sneaking suspicion that he knew who was trying to get in touch with him. He was about to tell Wes to cut the connection, but by then it was too late.
Sure enough, it was as he feared.
Her. Angelica W-K.
“Od,” she said, frostily serene, like an iceberg on a collision course with an ocean liner. “I imagine you’re feeling rather pleased with yourself.”
“I wouldn’t say pleased. A little airsick, maybe.”
“Clever, the way you gave us the slip back at the house. Not so clever, breaking into Selston Tor. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”
“From your tone of voice, I’m guessing it’s a lot.”
“You have stolen – that’s the only word for it – stolen an item of government property worth a billion pounds.”
“You’re kidding!” This was said with frank astonishment.
“One point two billion, to be precise,” said Angelica W-K. “For that serious a crime, I don’t think there’s a jail sentence long enough. When you’re caught, young man, they won’t simply lock you up and throw away the key. They’ll forget where they put you. You won’t see the light of day again until you’re ninety, and maybe not even then.”
Od felt a sudden, swooping sense of dread as the full impact of what he’d done hit home. He began to tremble, and his stomach knotted so tightly he thought it might just suck him into himself like a black hole. He felt close to throwing up, which in the limited confines of the Warsuit would have been even less pleasant than throwing up usually was.
Then his father’s advice about Angelica W-K came back to him. Treat her as you would a dangerous dog. A blonde, sexy, dangerous dog. In his mind’s eye Od saw again that absurd, comedy image of a lipsticked Rottweiler. It calmed him a little, just enough.
What did you do when confronted by a dangerous dog? You made sure not to show fear.
“I take your point, Miss W-K,” he said. “When you put it like that, I have been a bit of an ASBO kid, haven’t I? But look at it another way. If I hadn’t taken Warsuit One Point Oh out of Selston Tor when I did, who would have it right now? I’ll tell you. T-Cell, that’s who. So, instead of stealing a billion quid’s worth of government property, I’ve actually kept it from falling into enemy hands. You should be thanking me, not threatening me.”
A brief pause from Angelica W-K’s end of the line told him all he needed to know. He was right, and she knew it. She just didn’t care to admit it.
“That may be so,” she said stiffly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made off with the Warsuit and we want it back. So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to arrange a rendezvous. We meet up, you hand over the suit, and I guarantee that’ll be the end of the matter. There’ll be no repercussions for you, no being taken into custody, no criminal prosecution. You walk away
scot-free. I’m being more than generous here, under the circumstances.”
“It’s a very tempting offer. But I’m going to have to say no.”
“That would be highly unwise. I’m giving you this one chance, and one chance only. Return the suit. It’ll be the best outcome for all of us.”
“No.”
Od found it weirdly exhilarating to defy Angelica W-K like this. He wasn’t just standing up to her, he was standing up to everything she represented – the forces of authority, the powers-that-be, the big people who pushed the little people around. “Not yet. You can have it back but not till after I’m done with it. I heard that posh bloke, d’Arc, say they’re going to try and persuade my dad to work for them.”
“You know about Jupiter d’Arc?”
“I know he’s got a stupid name and an accent like Prince Charles. I can also tell he’s ruthless, so I reckon being ‘persuaded’ won’t be much fun for my dad. It’ll probably involve torture, sleep deprivation, beating up… You know, the sort of stuff you lot do to terror suspects to get them to confess.”
“Oh how very worldly wise you are, Od. How very flippant, too. Don’t forget you’re talking about such things happening your father. Not so funny when it’s a close relative, eh?”
“I’m not trying to be funny, as a matter of fact. I’m scared as hell for my dad. But at least I know it doesn’t have to happen to him, because I can stop it. I have exactly what I need to prevent it. This big hunk of tin I’m in.”
Wes gave a soft, polite cough. “‘Big hunk of tin’?”
“No offence,” Od said.
“I’m not offended,” said Angelica W-K.
“I was talking to the suit, not you.”
“Ah yes, the suit. You know that the Warsuit is still in the early stages of production, don’t you? It is, after all, just version one point oh.”
Od sensed that Angelica W-K was taking a fresh tack, trying to worm through his defences another way.
“It hasn’t been field-tested. It’s months away from being certified combat-ready. You’re on board something that could malfunction at any moment. What if the operating system freezes, just like that, while you’re in mid-air? You’d drop like a stone. Think about it.”
As if to underscore her point, the suit began to shudder and vibrate around Od. His breath caught.
“Nothing to worry about,” Wes reassured him. “Just a patch of turbulence. Air pocket. Be through it in a moment.”
“My dad built this thing,” Od said to Angelica W-K as the turbulence subsided. “He knows his stuff. I’m sure he’s put in failsafes and backups by the bucketload. He wouldn’t have let me near the suit if he didn’t think it was a hundred per cent safe.”
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, Od, but your father isn’t all that you think he is. You have this impression of him as a crackpot genius, and he is, but crackpot is another way of saying unreliable. In all my dealings with him, I’ve found him obstructive, difficult, sometimes even downright infuriating.”
“That probably says more about you than about him.”
“He’s putting you in terrible danger, don’t you see?” She sounded concerned, on the surface. Beneath, though, anger still bubbled and simmered. “What kind of father would do that to his son? He’s thinking only about himself, not you. His own selfish needs.”
“It’s hardly selfish to want to be rescued from terrorists. I’d call it common sense.”
“At the risk of his only child’s life?”
“It’s a risk I’m prepared to take. Do you have parents, Miss W-K? What am I saying? Of course you don’t. You were brewed in a test tube in a government laboratory, weren’t you?”
Angelica W-K spluttered.
“Me,” Od continued, “I don’t have a mum any more, but I do still have a dad, and as he’s the only parent I’ve got, in fact the only family, I’m going to do my very best to keep him. And if that means putting myself in harm’s way, then OK, that’s just how it has to be.”
He meant every word he said. Angelica W-K was just trying to sow doubt in his mind, make him question his father’s character and motives. He wouldn’t let her succeed.
What was it his dad had said? This woman will do anything to get her own way. Well, not this time, lady.
“Your mother,” Angelica W-K said. “Hmmm. Funny you should mention her. I wasn’t going to go there, but…”
“No, you can go there,” Od said, pretending to be reasonable. “Be my guest. Say what you like about my dead mother. Slag her off if you like. Because that’ll just make me even more annoyed with you and I’ll find it a whole lot easier telling you to get stuffed.”
“It wasn’t cancer that killed her, you know.”
“Oh yes it was,” Od replied hotly. “Don’t talk rubbish. I saw the brain scans. I watched her with my own eyes, wasting away day by day. She had a tumour in her head the size of an orange, and it slowly ate her alive.”
“She had cancer, yes. I’m not denying that. But the surgery she had should have saved her.”
“Could have,” said Od. “We were told it would be fifty-fifty. The operation was as likely to kill her as cure her. Like a coin toss, heads or tails. She knew that going in. We all did. It was a gamble she was willing to take. Had to take. The tumour was right next to her brain stem. A malignant glioma, it’s called. And if the surgeon made the tiniest mistake, slipped up by even a millimetre, that would be it. End of story.
“And he did. It sucks, but he did. She lost the coin toss. At least we were warned in advance what the odds were. Dad and I said our goodbyes to her before she went under the anaesthetic, just in case. At least we had that.”
“You were told an error happened,” said Angelica W-K. Her tone was cordially vicious. “That’s the official account of events. The truth is different.”
“The truth?”
“It was a specialist hospital where she was treated, wasn’t it? A place called the Oncodyne Clinic. The surgery was a highly advanced procedure. Experimental. Cutting-edge.”
“Something to do with ion beams fired by a laser, I think. So? Standard radiation therapy hadn’t worked. Ordinary scalpel-type surgery wouldn’t have had a chance. It was her only hope.”
“Yet I know for a fact that the surgeon, the entire medical team, did everything right. What went wrong was beyond their control.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Od said. “I don’t want to hear any of it.”
“I think you need to, Od.”
“No, I don’t. You can shut up now.”
“Why are scared of the truth?”
“Because it isn’t the truth. Nothing that comes out of your big fat lying gob is the truth.”
“I swear I’m not lying.”
“I said shut up.”
“Your father knows what really happened, why she died.” There was an almost gleeful note in Angelica W-K’s voice now. “Of course, I’d never accuse him of being responsible for her death. But haven’t you wondered why he’s been so withdrawn since then, so obsessive? It’s as if he’s trying to make up for what happened. As if he feels guilty somehow.”
“Not listening.”
“Ask him yourself, then. Ask him why he made the Warsuit.”
“All right, I will,” said Od. “Right after I’ve got him out of T-Cell’s clutches. Now, you’re starting to bore me. I’m ending the conversation.”
“Od, hear me out. You have no idea what you’re up against.” She was giving it one last, desperate shot. “I’ve been fighting people like T-Cell my whole professional life. They’re beyond dangerous. They’re great white sharks in human form. They kill to live and live to kill. What are you going to do, anyway? You don’t even know how to find your father. You have no idea where he is.”
“Do you?”
“No. We assume T-Cell must have a base of operations somewhere, but we’ve never been able to pinpoint its location.”
“Then we’re all in the same boat,”
said Od. “Only difference is, I’ve got an oar and you don’t. Goodbye, Miss W-K. See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya.”
“Od!”
“Wes, cut her off, will you?”
CALL ENDED appeared on the screen.
“Done,” said Wes.
“And can you block any further incoming calls from that same number?”
“One moment. Also done.”
“Thanks.”
“Od…”
“Hold on. Give me a second.”
Od collected his thoughts. He had just put himself firmly on the wrong side of Angelica W-K. That didn’t bother him on a personal level. On a practical level, though, it wasn’t the smartest of moves. She was a woman with power and clout, and the type to hold a grudge, too. She could seriously mess up his life if she felt like it, and right now she probably did feel like it.
Oh well, he’d just have to deal with that when he came to it.
What troubled him more were the dark hints she had dropped about his mother’s death. Had she been making it all up? If so, why? To rattle him, perhaps. Cause him to second-guess himself. Drive a wedge between him and his father and deter him from his rescue mission. Would Angelica W-K stoop so low as to use the death of someone’s parent in order to put the thumbscrews on that person? Oh yes, Od felt sure she would.
At the same time, something she’d said did chime with his own feelings about his father.
Haven’t you wondered why he’s been so withdrawn since then, so obsessive? It’s as if he’s trying to make up for what happened. As if he feels guilty somehow.
Tremaine Fitch had been a changed man since losing his wife. Which was only to be expected. He had loved her very much. She had died tragically young, long before she should have. That kind of grief was particularly hard to bear.
But he hadn’t become merely sad. He had become, deep in the heart of himself, stone cold. Outwardly he could still be witty, jolly, affectionate, warm. But a hollowness had settled in his soul. A bitterness. Od had seen it on those days when his father would simply sit and stare at nothing, his mouth set hard.
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