They all turned to the vacant lot and Jack tried to imagine what it would look like filled with ramps and climbing frames.
He couldn’t wait to see it.
The park would be a place for kids to come and learn skating and parkour in relative safety.
Jack’s phone beeped and he looked at the display.
‘Who’s that?’ Slink asked.
Jack smiled. For the first time in a while, something had gone right. ‘It’s Obi. He says John Grant left the Facility and he followed him on the cameras.’
‘That’s good news,’ Wren said.
‘Oh no.’ Jack’s initial optimism quickly faded as he read the rest of Obi’s text message.
‘Now what?’ Slink said.
Jack closed his eyes.
Why was nothing ever simple?
• • •
That evening, Jack stood on the Thames’s South Bank, leaning against a railing and staring at a circular building several storeys high with wooden beams, white plaster and a thatched roof.
Shakespeare’s Globe was one of the most recognisable structures in London, but it looked out of place surrounded by modern architecture.
Slink jogged up to him. ‘Wren’s gone to see where the guy’s parked his car.’ He glanced around. ‘Any idea what he’s doing here?’
Jack kept his gaze focused on the building.
Obi had followed John Grant on the cameras to this location, but then lost him when he went inside.
Grant was their only chance of making it down through the first level of the Facility. If they couldn’t get his card and fingerprints, then all was lost and – worst of all – Hector would’ve won.
Jack’s mind wandered as he tried to imagine what the weapon could possibly be, but as always he drew a blank.
‘Jack?’
He glanced at Slink. ‘What?’
‘I said, “Have you got any idea why the guy came here?” ’
‘Oh, no, not yet.’
‘I’m positive he went in there, guys,’ Obi said through the headset. ‘I watched him on the camera next door.’
Jack looked to his left, spotted a CCTV camera mounted high on the corner of the building, then refocused on the Globe.
He tried to concentrate on their task.
First they needed to pick Grant’s pocket and take his swipe card.
Jack smacked his forehead. ‘Oh no!’
‘What’s wrong?’ Slink asked.
‘I forgot the card reader.’
Slink held it up. ‘You left it on the dining-room table.’
Jack let out a breath and took it from him. ‘Thanks.’
They still had the other task of getting John Grant’s fingerprints, but one problem at a time.
‘Where exactly did he go?’ Slink said, looking back at the building.
‘Through the main entrance,’ Obi said, ‘and he hasn’t come out since. Must be a fan of Shakespeare or something.’
Slink pointed down the road.
The play was about to start and hundreds of people poured through the glass doors that led to the Globe itself.
‘Could be a good chance to grab his card,’ Slink said to Jack. ‘You know, if he’s sitting in the audience.’
Jack nodded and kept his gaze on the building as he remembered the device Charlie had made to scan fingerprints. Only problem was – he’d forgotten that too and it was back at the bunker.
So they needed to get John Grant to touch something. Then they’d take it with them and lift the fingerprints later.
Jack straightened up and glanced around. ‘Where’s Wren?’
‘I told you,’ Slink said. ‘Gone to look for Grant’s car.’
‘Oh yeah. Sorry.’
Slink frowned. ‘Are you all right?’
‘What?’ Jack looked at him. ‘I’m fine. Why does everyone keep asking me that?’ His phone beeped and he pulled it from his pocket.
Obi had sent him a CCTV image of John Grant – he was a tall man with blond hair.
Jack showed Slink, then strode towards the theatre. ‘Come on.’
Slink hurried after him. ‘How are we going to get in?’
Jack reached into his back pocket, pulled out a few ten-pound notes and held them up. ‘The old-fashioned way.’
• • •
Five minutes later Jack and Slink entered the main theatre. A steward examined their tickets and gestured to the front.
The Globe was open – with no roof – and circular. It had balconies that followed the curve of the building, filled with benches. The stage itself jutted out from the far side, with its own roof above it, protecting the actors from the British weather.
Jack and Slink moved with the crowd and stood in the yard – an open forecourt surrounded by other rows of benches.
‘What kind of place is this?’ Slink whispered. ‘What are we supposed to do, sit on the floor?’ He crossed his arms and looked about. ‘We need to find this guy, and quickly.’
‘You search from the top,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll start looking here.’
The chatter of the crowd faded from Jack’s ears as he stood on the spot next to Slink, his eyes slowly scanning faces, checking each man against the memory of the blond-haired John Grant from the CCTV image.
After a few minutes he had finished with the people in the yard and his eyes drifted through the crowds on the benches surrounding it.
‘Where are you?’ he whispered after a couple of minutes.
‘I’ve done the top balcony,’ Slink said. ‘He’s not there. Moving to the next level down.’
Suddenly it started to rain.
Droplets came thick and fast and the crowd noise grew louder as the people standing around them started buying and putting on macs.
Jack wiped water from his face and tried to ignore the commotion as he continued to methodically scan the crowd, searching for their target, but so far – no luck.
The rain wasn’t helping either.
‘Come on,’ he muttered. ‘Where are you?’
John Grant was their only chance at getting into the Facility, and as each moment passed, Jack grew more and more impatient.
The crowd applauded as actors walked on to the stage and the play started.
Jack ignored them and remained focused on his task.
He came to the end of the benches and moved his attention up to the first balcony level. His eyes moved left to right and he turned slowly on the spot.
The crowd laughed and cheered, but he didn’t bother with the play – he had to find John Grant.
As the time slipped past, his anxiety and frustration grew. ‘Slink?’
‘Just finished the second balcony.’
‘What?’ Jack glanced at him. ‘I’m halfway through it. Are you sure he wasn’t there?’
Slink nodded. ‘Positive.’
Jack looked back at the seating area and continued to move along the sea of faces. Slink must have missed him. John Grant had to be there somewhere. He couldn’t just vanish.
‘Err, Jack?’
Jack continued his search up to the final balcony.
‘Jack?’ Slink hissed.
‘Shhhh.’ A lady standing next to them scowled.
Slink grabbed Jack’s arm and turned him around.
‘What are you –’ Jack’s jaw dropped.
On the stage – dressed in a green outfit with baggy trousers that only went down to his knees, and an orange hat with bells – was John Grant.
He was prancing about like a madman, while another guy tried to wrestle him, spouting words that Jack didn’t recognise. Some of them sounded as though they might be English, and the crowd roared with laughter.
‘Well,’ Slink said, looking equally amazed, ‘at least we found him.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jack waited in the shadows outside the Globe theatre, a little way down the road.
Slink stayed out back, covering the rear exit, just in case Grant left that way.
Wren had found
the man’s car, thanks to Obi, and was now sat across the road from it. Jack had considered planting a tracker on the vehicle, but didn’t want to risk it being discovered.
Besides, he hadn’t thought to bring one of those either. He really was losing it.
Finally Jack’s headset crackled and Slink whispered, ‘He’s here.’
Jack turned, sprinted around the building and joined Slink. John Grant was striding down the road away from them, so they followed, trying to stay as far back as possible.
Grant headed towards the main road.
‘Wait a minute,’ Slink whispered. He gestured to a side street. ‘His car’s parked down that way. Where’s he going?’
Jack shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s hungry.’
They glanced around to make sure no one else was watching them, then continued after their target.
They followed him down one winding street after another, taking so many turns that Obi had trouble following them on the cameras and map.
‘Obi?’ Jack breathed into his headset as John set off down yet another side road.
‘I’ve got no idea where he’s going, Jack. Sorry.’
Jack sighed. ‘OK. Just do your best.’
‘I’m on it.’
Eventually he crossed another main road and went into a Thai restaurant.
Jack and Slink hurried over to it and peered through the window.
John Grant said something to a waitress, then walked to the back of the restaurant and into the toilets.
‘Let’s go,’ Jack said, pushing the door open and hurrying inside.
The waitress stepped into their path. ‘Table for two?’ she asked with a dubious look.
Jack gestured to the bar. ‘Can we wait for our mum and dad?’
The waitress smiled. ‘Of course.’ She pointed to a small table in the corner. ‘Perhaps there would be better for you.’
‘Thanks.’
Jack and Slink sat down, but their focus was still on the door to the men’s room.
An awkward few minutes passed as the waitress kept glancing in their direction with a suspicious expression etched on her face.
Jack stood. He couldn’t take it any more. ‘I’m gonna check it out.’ Taking no notice of the waitress’s scowl, he hurried to the back of the restaurant and into the men’s toilets.
No one was at the urinals or sinks.
Jack tiptoed towards the two stalls.
The door to the first was open and it was empty.
He edged as quietly as he could to the second and peered around the corner. ‘What the . . . ?’
The door was ajar and that stall was empty too.
Jack’s breath caught and he spun around.
Where had their target gone?
He spotted another door to the right of the sinks, rushed over to it and peered out.
Beyond was an alleyway, and a gate at the far end stood open.
Jack swore and pressed a finger to his ear. ‘Obi, you seen him?’
‘Huh? I thought he was in that restaurant with you guys.’
‘Look at the map,’ Jack said, jogging down the alley and stepping through the gate. He was now standing in a narrow road flanked by tall buildings. Jack glanced left and right. ‘Obi? Any ideas?’
‘No. Hold on . . . Wait. Oh no.’
Jack’s stomach sank. ‘What is it?’
‘Go right, Jack.’
By Obi’s tone, it didn’t sound like good news.
Jack jogged up the road and came to a sudden halt when he spotted the entrance to Southwark Tube station.
He groaned. ‘Brilliant.’
How had they been so stupid?
After a minute he turned around and – head bowed in defeat – walked slowly back to the restaurant.
• • •
The next morning Jack paced the bunker, trying desperately to think of a way to get to their elusive target – John Grant. But, without knowing where he currently lived, Jack was finding ideas hard to come by.
Grant was their only hope, and Jack had to think of a way to get to him. And quickly – because he had so much more to plan.
He looked over at Obi.
Obi’s expression was blank as he trawled through thousands of CCTV images and recordings taken from the surrounding area, looking for any sign of where John Grant had disappeared to.
Obi seemed to be taking it personally that the guy had given them the slip.
‘Jack?’ he said.
Jack stopped pacing. ‘Yeah?’
‘There has to be some other way down through the Facility without needing that guy’s card and prints.’
‘There isn’t.’
‘I agree,’ Slink said, opening the fridge and handing a lemonade to Wren. ‘We’re wasting time, Jack. We’ve got less than three days left before Hector goes in.’
Jack clenched his teeth. ‘Don’t you think I know that?’
‘We’re supposed to be doing the mission tomorrow night,’ Obi added.
Jack made an annoyed huffing sound.
He knew they had to get in there the day before Hector’s crew, but that was looking less and less possible.
‘Can we get John Grant when he parks his car?’ Wren asked. ‘I checked, and he’s doing another show tonight.’
‘Good idea,’ Slink said. ‘Why don’t we just knock the guy out and be done with it?’
‘In the open?’ Jack said, incredulous. ‘In broad daylight?’
Slink shrugged. ‘We’ve done worse things.’
Jack balled his fists and tried to control his temper. ‘We have to get his card and prints without him knowing. Otherwise he’ll alert his bosses and we’ll have no chance at breaking in.’
Slink crossed his arms. ‘But you’re taking too long. There’s no way you’ll get this all planned in time.’
Jack turned to face him. ‘I will. I have to.’
The other three glanced uneasily at each other.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jack said in a sarcastic tone. ‘I thought you lot liked to live dangerously?’ He turned his back on them, pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to clear his head.
They were right though – he had so much left to plan, so many hurdles to overcome. They had to get John Grant’s fingerprints and swipe card by that night, or there was no chance of getting the rest planned in time.
Slink and Wren sat in the lounge area, while Obi resumed his search through the thousands of CCTV images.
‘It’s no use,’ Jack said for the millionth time. ‘He must have had specialised training on how to avoid being followed.’ He’d also noticed that John Grant was wearing gloves. So that meant the Outlaws couldn’t lift his prints off his car door handle.
Obi sat back with a snort of anger and frustration. Without taking his weary eyes off the screens, his hand dipped by the side of his chair, a packet rustled and he stuffed a fistful of crisps into his mouth. ‘You reckon he knows we’re following him?’ he asked through a mouthful.
‘I doubt it.’
Obi frowned. ‘But that makes no sense. He must know.’
‘He’s deliberately avoiding being followed. It’s a security measure they probably demand of all their employees. And,’ Jack added, ‘you know what that means, right?’
‘No.’ Obi stuffed another mound of crisps into his gob. A third of them missed. ‘What does it mean?’
‘There’s definitely something down in the Facility. They’ve gone to a huge amount of trouble to protect it and its employees.’
It also meant that, so far, Cloud had been telling the truth.
‘Why don’t we put a tracker on him?’ Obi said. ‘Wren could slip it into his pocket. At least we could try and break into his house then.’
‘That’s no good,’ Jack said. He’d already thought of that. ‘We can’t risk getting caught. If he realises we’re tracking him, they’ll lock down the Facility. Besides, I bet his house is well protected too.’
‘Let me get this right,’ Obi said, grabbing yet another h
andful of crisps. ‘If he realises we’re following him, it’s over, right? Even if we could find out where he lives, we’d get caught trying to break in, and it’s over, yeah? And, if we try and follow him any more, he’ll realise we’re on to him and –’
‘It’s over.’ Jack stared at the ceiling. They had to do this stealthily.
But, what?
How?
Jack rubbed his eyes. Right at that moment, he had no idea.
The airlock door hissed open.
Obi swallowed the crisps and brushed the crumbs from his T-shirt as Charlie walked through.
‘How are you?’ Jack asked her.
‘I’m good,’ she said. ‘Just popped back for a quick shower and change of clothes.’
‘How’s the project coming along?’
She sighed. ‘It’s tough, but I’ll get it done in time.’
Jack nodded. At least one of them was making progress. ‘Everything else is up to me then,’ he muttered.
No pressure.
As Charlie set off down the corridor she called over her shoulder, ‘Oh yeah, and Obi? I saw those crisps. Throw the rest away. And if I catch you not sticking to your diet again, I’ll kill ya.’
Obi’s shoulders slumped.
Slink laughed. ‘Rumbled.’
With renewed determination, Jack turned to Obi. ‘Right, please get me a plan of the sewers and the other buildings around the Globe.’
If they couldn’t follow John Grant after he left, that meant they had to get to him somehow while he was at the Globe itself.
A couple of minutes later Jack was flipping through the designs and plans on the main screen.
His eyes moved quickly over the paths and tunnels, looking at all the possible routes, but they were extremely limited.
Slink joined them and leant against Obi’s chair. ‘Any ideas yet?’
‘I’m working on it,’ Jack muttered. He glanced at Slink and sighed. ‘Look, I’m sorry, guys.’
‘It’s OK,’ Obi said. ‘We know what stress you’re under. What can we do to help?’
Jack looked at the screen again. ‘The main thing is, we need to be stealthy. No one can know what we’re going to do or what we’ve done. We have to go in and get back here as quietly and as quickly as possible.’ Jack stared at the display a long while, then finally straightened up.
Counterstrike Page 8
