by Joe Craig
Jimmy had saved the President. Now he had to save Zafi.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – REVENGE OF THE SON
A hundred metres below them, on the Museum floor, the journalists were laughing. The President’s microphone had stopped working and he resorted to shouting his final answer. With a gloating smile at a job well done, Grogan nodded his thanks and waved. Then he held out his hand to the British Prime Minister, Ian Coates.
Up in the rafters, Jimmy knew that as soon as the Prime Minister’s back was turned, his Union Jack lapel pin would tear through his body. All Jimmy had to do to save him was dive across and knock Zafi away from her MARS weapon.
So why was he hesitating?
It was then that one thundering truth hit him right between the eyes. He looked down at Ian Coates. Jimmy had a chance that might never come to him again – to let the man be killed.
Didn’t Ian Coates deserve it? Didn’t he, above all people, need to pay for the blood on his hands? He’d been a killer since long before Jimmy was born. Who knew how many innocent people he’d slaughtered to keep the tyrant Hollingdale in power? And now he was in power himself, how many more was he murdering or brutally intimidating every day just to stay there? And there would be even more massacred if Coates were allowed to take Britain and France into an unnecessary war. Maybe killing him now would save lives.
But Jimmy realised that wasn’t why he was hesitating. There was only one reason Jimmy wanted that man dead. Ian Coates had betrayed him. As a father, he’d lied day after day, with every gesture that built up the fiction that they were a family, and with every act of false love. He’d gradually destroyed Jimmy’s life. And then he had sacrificed his family for power over a nation.
It was time to pay. It was time for revenge.
The President clasped the Prime Minister’s hand. Photographers bunched together at the front of the hall, bustling for the best shot. Jimmy could hear Zafi’s breathing quicken. Ian Coates was still facing the front. As soon as the posing was over, he would turn to go and that would be the end of him.
Jimmy didn’t move. It’s for what he’s doing to Britain, he thought. For what NJ7 have done on his orders. Tears rolled down his face. For what he did to me.
Scores of cameras flashed like a firework display. Then they stopped. The two heads of state released each other’s hands. Ian Coates turned to leave. Jimmy watched, his whole body shaking. He couldn’t hold back his sobs. He heard Zafi draw in a deep breath. His ears were so finely tuned, he could make out the creaking of the trigger as her finger clenched.
Suddenly, Jimmy dived to the side. He barged into Zafi, leading with his shoulder, and reached out with both hands to push her weapon off target. He landed on top of Zafi. They turned together to watch her specially designed and custom-built magnetic traction gun crash into the grating. The weight of the weapon forced a panel loose. Light from the hall streamed into their hiding place. The MARS weapon teetered for a second, then toppled over the precipice.
Jimmy jumped forwards quickly enough to watch the weapon and the grating swirling through the air. They seemed to be falling forever.
“Non!” cried Zafi.
Then, at last, with every face in the hall watching, the metal smashed into the floor. Tiny parts bounced up several metres. Some hit journalists, who held up their arms to protect themselves, shouting in panic. But one piece was strong enough to withstand the impact – the trigger. It clicked into place. The remains of the weapon gave an almost inaudible buzz. Then the Prime Minister’s shoulder exploded in a shower of blood. The painting behind him was spattered with even more abstract red shapes. He fell to the floor.
“He’s hit!” somebody shouted, before the rest of the room erupted into screams. The President was whisked away to safety.
“The angle was wrong,” Zafi whispered in a fluster.
“What?” cried Jimmy, wiping the sweat and tears from his face with the back of his sleeve.
“It was meant to be activated up here, not down there.” The words rushed out of Zafi’s mouth. Her eyes darted from side to side as she tried to work out the geometry of what had just happened. “It was a hundred metres off. It pulled the pin in the wrong direction. Look, it’s barely a scratch.”
Journalists were rushing for the exits, while the security team drew their weapons and took up new positions. They were completely calm, as if they’d rehearsed this drill a million times. Several of them stared up at the ceiling, straight at the point where Jimmy and Zafi were hiding.
Jimmy watched the Prime Minister. The man was surrounded by Secret Service agents, but already Ian Coates was waving them away. Jimmy read his lips:
“I’m fine, I’m fine – it’s just my shoulder.”
Paduk was holding the Prime Minister’s head. Then he peered upwards, looking for where the weapon had fallen from. For less than a second, he and Jimmy locked eyes. Paduk cracked his jaw and helped Ian Coates out of the room.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jimmy declared. He looked round. Zafi was already gone.
Jimmy crashed through a vent in the ceiling and crawled out on to the roof. Steam floated around him. The Manhattan wind buffeted his body. This was the only way out. He knew that the CIA would believe that he’d had nothing to do with trying to kill the Prime Minister, but if he’d gone back down to the stairwell there was too much chance that he’d be met by NJ7. Paduk had seen him and that meant Jimmy had to get away as quickly as possible. He could meet up with Viggo and the CIA later.
He staggered to his feet, but before he could run, or even work out which direction to go, he was knocked sideways by a piercing squeal. He clasped his ears, but it did no good. The noise was inside his head. It sounded like feedback. He rocked from side to side, trying to shake out the horrific sound. He wanted to tear at his own skull and physically remove whatever this was.
He reached out to steady himself and found a metal structure in the middle of the roof. It was a system of aerials, with five long, slim rectangles pointing in every different direction. Jimmy waited for relief, but the closer he got to this metal structure, the worse the screech in his head became. He tottered backwards, barely able to keep his balance. It was then that he realised this must be the cellphone mast Zafi had mentioned. Was it causing some kind of interference inside his head?
Jimmy should have run. He knew that. Any second there might be helicopters shooting at him, or Paduk’s muscly grin charging through the vent on to the Museum roof. Instead, Jimmy launched an attack on the mast. His hands stayed firmly around his ears, but he kicked at the metal poles until they were bent out of recognition. Now there were sirens mixing with the already deafening noise. Jimmy was wasting time, but he didn’t care.
“Get out of my head!” he screamed. “Get out! It’s my head! It’s my life!” Now he went at the phone mast with his fists, tearing at every corner of metal, twisting each element of the mast and ripping it off where he could. “You stole my life!” he screamed. “You deserve to die!”
At last, the din that was drilling into his brain subsided. A couple of sparks fizzled and died. However many millions of messages the phone mast had been beaming across New York City, the conversations were silent now.
Jimmy wiped his face. His tears were blown away in the wind. His screams had gone with them, lost in the air. It felt like every emotion he was capable of had flown away too, leaving only the thought of his father.
“Why did I save you?” he whispered.
The battered mast couldn’t answer. Nor could the wind. But there wasn’t time to wait. At last, the voice of sanity took control. Jimmy powered his limbs into a sprint. He dashed across the roof of the Museum, hardly even conscious of what he was doing any more. His survival instinct kept him moving.
In seconds, he was at the end of the block. He looked over the edge of the building and immediately had to pull back. He’d never been afraid of heights, but the distance to the ground made his head swirl. There was a mist clinging to the buildings
that made it almost impossible to see the street. There’s no way I’m jumping, he thought, yet at the same time he could feel his brain turning it over as a possibility, calculating the force of the impact, working out how he would land. He looked over the edge again. A rush of wind swept up into his face and took his breath away. No way, Jimmy commanded himself.
He wiped his hands on his trousers and crouched, ready to start his climb down. But then, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a shadow hurtling towards him. A grey shape loomed out of the fog. Jimmy dropped flat on his face, just in time. It swooped over him, without making a sound.
Jimmy flipped over to get a glimpse of it as it disappeared again. He instantly recognised the fragile outline of a twelve-year-old girl – Zafi. Was she flying, he wondered, aghast. Then he spotted it – emerging out of the mist was a huge crane. There were no construction workers in the area today – it had been evacuated as a security measure for the press conference. So there was nobody to stop Zafi swinging on the end of the crane’s line like a fish caught by an angler. But Zafi was as deadly as a shark.
Jimmy bounced to his feet. Before he could move away, Zafi was back at him. She was holding on to the metal claw with one hand, twirling in the air like an acrobat. Jimmy recognised the moves of a master of Capoeira – a lethal brand of Brazilian martial arts. She landed a kick hard in the base of Jimmy’s back. He stumbled forwards. The pain shooting up from his kidneys told him this was no play-fight.
Now Jimmy had a chance to move. He forced himself to ignore the sharp sting from Zafi’s attack and climbed over the side of the building. Digging his fingers into the brickwork, he clambered downwards as fast as he could. He had to heave in every breath. Then she hit him again.
With the force of a missile, Zafi launched herself off the crane and landed right on Jimmy’s back. She clamped her arm round his neck and squeezed. Jimmy twisted, but couldn’t shake her off. He let go of the brickwork with one hand to try to prise her grip loose. His fingers were already white from holding the entire weight of both him and Zafi. Now they were numb, but still able to lock into the tiniest irregularities in the surface of the wall.
Below him, the earth seemed to loom upwards, making him dizzy. Then he glimpsed Zafi’s other arm raised above her head. Any second she would deliver a vicious chop to the back of his neck. Jimmy knew that would be fatal for any normal human. He didn’t care to find out how much damage it would do to him. He let go of the wall.
He felt Zafi gasp. She clung on to him even tighter. Jimmy’s face was red – only a tiny amount of air was seeping through Zafi’s stranglehold. They fell together for less than a second. Zafi kicked her legs forwards and caught a window ledge with her ankles, but she couldn’t keep hold of Jimmy. As they fell, he sent a jab into her midriff to loosen her grip and grabbed hold of her arm. They hung there – Zafi upside-down, Jimmy beneath her, staring up, his rock-hard fingers now locked in position round Zafi’s wrist, instead of digging into the wall.
“What are you doing?” he yelled.
“Feels like yoga,” Zafi giggled. Jimmy wasn’t in the mood.
“I’m not your enemy, remember?”
“You’re NJ7,” Zafi announced. “And you saved your Prime Minister.”
“I might have saved the Prime Minister, but I was saving you too.”
“Saving me?” Zafi scoffed.
“Yes – from being a killer.” Jimmy was seething. “You don’t have to be one.”
Zafi tried to shake him loose, but his fingers were like bolts, drilling into Zafi’s skin. However much she stretched and twisted her hand, she couldn’t get rid of him.
“I saw you trying to kill the President,” Zafi snapped. “That’s the work of NJ7.”
“You’ve got it wrong,” Jimmy hollered. “That wasn’t really me!”
“I don’t blame you, Jimmy, but I’m going to have to kill you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – A WALK IN THE PARK
With a flick of her arm, Zafi sent Jimmy flying into the air. He hurtled upwards. The wind bit into him and it felt like he’d left his stomach holding on to the side of the building. He landed with a bump, back on the roof. The impact jarred through his body, but he rolled over, unhurt. He had to move.
He wished he could explain to Zafi that there was no way he’d ever work for NJ7. The injustice of the situation tore at his mind. There was no reason for Zafi to kill him, but she wouldn’t listen.
Jimmy jumped to his feet, ready to run, but Zafi’s fingers appeared over the edge of the roof. She’d climbed back up for him.
“You know it’s not that easy, killing me!” Jimmy shouted, backing away. There was a light rain refreshing his face, keeping every sense tingling. He told himself to stand firm, though his knees were trembling. Was it because they wanted him to run or because of fear? Zafi crawled on to the roof and looked up at Jimmy. There was menace in her eyes.
“By the time this fight is over,” Jimmy went on, “they will have found us. And there’s no way past the security cordon. You won’t kill me and have a chance to escape. You’re trapped.”
Zafi raised an eyebrow and hissed, “One thing at a time.”
Then she pounced. She moved with such well-directed pace that even though Jimmy knew she was coming, he couldn’t get completely out of the way. Zafi was like a tiger, her eyes flashing in the dying light.
Jimmy dived to the side, but Zafi’s hand snatched his collar. She dragged him three metres across the roof, then jumped, bringing Jimmy with her.
Jimmy had no idea what she had planned, but he was in her control now. He’d never imagined that anybody could move as fast as she could. Even with his programming pumping through him at full volume, he was virtually powerless against her. She was the wrong girl to have made into an enemy.
Together, they left the ground, Jimmy dangling in Zafi’s grip like a rag doll. With her other hand she caught the claw of the crane. Jimmy gradually realised how she was going to get past the security cordon – in her situation, he might have done the same.
They swung through the air, the world spinning by in a grey blur. Zafi’s momentum carried them high into the air. To Jimmy, it felt like being on a huge swing, except that somebody else was in control. Jimmy flailed his legs up at Zafi, like a circus trapeze artist, but she dodged his foot with a graceful sway.
As the crane claw reached the top of the arc, Zafi kicked out, sending them swinging back down on their giant pendulum with even greater velocity. The roof of the building lurched towards them. Jimmy’s insides were churning. How does Spider-man do this without puking? he thought.
He reached out with his legs to try and catch something he could use to pull himself free of Zafi’s hold, but she yanked him closer. Then she let go of the crane.
Suddenly, the world went silent except for the rushing of the wind in Jimmy’s ears. Even his heartbeat seemed to stop. For a few seconds, the beauty of it overcame all of the pain and the terror. This was as close as man could come to flying. Jimmy’s heart swelled with amazement.
It didn’t last long.
They soared over the heads of the agents manning the security cordon, but they were still well below the sights of the aerial patrol above them. Jimmy braced himself. They were falling now, and from a considerable height. What if Zafi tried to use him to break her fall? But she was smarter than that. She had planned her escape meticulously and judged their flight perfectly.
In an alley three blocks away, Zafi and Jimmy plunged to earth. They landed precisely in the middle of a dumpster, specially packed not with rubbish but with polystyrene foam. It was like landing on cushions. Jimmy couldn’t help smiling at Zafi’s attention to detail, but he had no time to waste.
He spat some foam from his mouth and clambered out of the bin. Zafi had lost her grip on him when they landed. This was his chance to escape. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he ran. He was out of the alley in a flash, but Zafi’s steps rang out close behind him.
The stree
t was packed with people – they were outside the security cordon now. Jimmy ducked his head and dodged through the crowds. The noise of the city filled his head, but he filtered it out until all he could hear was the rapid-fire pace of Zafi’s feet. For a second it sounded almost as if there were two people chasing him. He didn’t dare look back. That would slow him down. But he knew that if they kept running, Zafi was bound to catch him. She was faster.
He strained every muscle to put some distance between them, but he knew it was just a matter of time before that chop came down on the back of his neck. At the end of the street he hurdled a low grey wall, hardly breaking his stride. He had made it to Central Park. Grass stretched out in front of him, with a wooded area about 200 metres away. Maybe on the less-even terrain he’d stand more of a chance. Or maybe not.
He powered his way across the field with new determination. His breathing was heavy but regular. His mouth was dry and the rain coated his skin, but he didn’t care. Groups of tourists stopped to watch them, amazed at how fast they were running, but to them it looked like two kids playing games. How could they know that they’d seen two of the world’s most dangerous assassins fighting for supremacy?
Jimmy kept running, changing direction at every opportunity to counteract Zafi’s greater speed. He made it into the wood, weaving between the trees. It was no good. He could almost feel Zafi’s breath on his back. Tears pricked his eyes from the effort, but his programming kept him going, always digging deeper for that extra energy that would keep him going.
Finally, Jimmy dived into the air. His body braced rigid and his arms stretched out above his head. He splashed down into Central Park Lake.
The water was ice-cold, but it felt like wonderful relief. He plunged several metres down, already kicking with the efficiency and power of a turbine engine. After a few seconds he drew a gulp of water into his lungs. It tasted disgusting, almost burning his tongue with its bitterness, but he couldn’t let that stop him. He knew it was his body’s mechanism to keep him breathing underwater.
