Better Than Human

by Matt Stark

  Sam hesitated for a moment then spoke quickly:

  “On your twenty-first birthday Serina gave you a watch,” said Sam, thinking back to a mental image he’d seen in her mind. “It was your grandfather’s. She said it was a thank-you for your commitment to the cause. It was the 16th December last year. You had just lost your parents and your two younger sisters.”

  Irfan was in tears.

  “You bastard. What have you done to her?”

  “We haven’t done anything. She’s alive and well. She wants to see you. She doesn’t want you to go through with this,” lied Sam.

  Tears streamed down Irfan’s face.

  “Serina – I’m so sorry.”

  Sam saw Irfan’s face relax and knew what he was going to do a split second before he released the trigger. He dived away from Irfan, hitting the floor and rolling just before everything went black.

  Chapter 19

  Sam took a sip from the water bottle Suzie was holding, and blew out a long breath. He was in the Starbucks coffee bar just off the main concourse with Suzie and Peter. They were sitting in a booth next to a shattered window looking out over the concourse – Suzie alongside Sam, and Peter opposite. Only a few hours ago the booth had probably been occupied by commuters or Leicester City fans drinking lattes excited about the match.

  Sam rubbed his fingers over a tender gash on his forehead. He had by some miracle survived the blast. All he’d have to show for it were a few bruises and the scratch on his forehead. But Irfan was dead – as were a good number of civilians who were too close – who hadn’t managed to get out of the station in time. Sam had rolled behind a large concrete pillar, which had protected him from the blast and the even more lethal shrapnel packed into Irfan’s vest.

  He forced himself to look through the shattered Starbucks window. A few bodies lay scattered here and there. JIS agents and paramedics were moving among them doing what they could. Sam’s mind was quiet again. As he watched the green-suited paramedics do their work he had no idea what they were thinking – which right now he was very glad about.

  Sam swallowed. He had failed – big time. But at least now he would get the truth. He turned back to Peter. He looked like he hadn’t slept for a week. Sam could smell the faint odour of whiskey on his breath. But his eyes were still clear. Clear and cold.

  “Why did you lie to me, Peter?”

  Peter didn’t have to ask what Sam meant.

  “I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

  “Why?”

  “You weren’t ready to know.”

  “You mean you didn’t trust me.”

  “We couldn’t trust you. Sam, you’d just got off out of ten years in a Chinese prison.”

  “What has that got to do with the post-humans?”

  “If you knew New Dawn were post-human you might choose them, not us.”

  “Give me some credit, Peter. I’m not a traitor.”

  Peter leaned forward.

  “We couldn’t risk it.”

  “I want to know the truth. Before we leave this station.”

  Peter glanced at Suzie.

  “He deserves to know, Peter,” said Suzie.

  Peter sighed.

  “Okay, Sam. But after you’ve heard what I’ve got to say I hope you’ll understand why I kept you in the dark.”

  “We’ll see,” replied Sam.

  “Here’s what I didn’t lie about,” said Peter. “You are a post-human. You have telepathic and other powers. But you are not one of a kind. There are others. The terror group called New Dawn are post-human like you, Sam. They are not however Islamic. They have no connection with any Islamic State or any other Islamic terror group. But the attacks are real. Each one of those photos in the file I showed you is genuine.”

  Sam stared at Peter’s cold eyes looking for a sign that he was lying, but with his telepathy off he might as well be trying to figure out what a crocodile was thinking.

  “Why?” he said, finally.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. We – the government – tried to work with them but they weren’t satisfied. They felt restricted – controlled, or so they said. And some of them thought we were in their way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some post-humans thought norms, as they called us, were obsolete. They thought they should be ruling the country, the world. They wanted a revolution. When they didn’t get it they declared war on humanity.”

  Sam was trying to check everything Peter said against his internal bullshit meter but wasn’t getting anywhere. But he knew Peter hadn’t told him the full truth yet.

  “Serina said you were persecuting post-humans,” he said after a pause.

  Peter pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to hold back his temper.

  “After New Dawn attacked and killed hundreds of civilians we hunted them – and held those we caught for interrogation and later trial.”

  Sam looked at Suzie.

  “You knew about this?”

  She had to unless she was the dumbest and most out-of-the-loop JIS agent in history, and she certainly wasn’t. But Sam just wanted to hear her say it.

  “I had no choice.”

  He nodded. He knew that was true, and he didn’t blame her, nor Peter. The state was under attack by post-humans, and Sam, a post-human just back from ten years in a Chinese prison, couldn’t be trusted, not right away. He understood why they’d lied. Sam’s gut told him Peter was still holding back on him. But he wouldn’t push him – for now.

  He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  “I don’t know about you two but I could sleep for a year.”

  Peter smiled.

  “I’ve organized an apartment for you nearby. I’ll get someone to take you there. Get some rest, eat. And we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Sam nodded. He wasn’t going to argue with that.

  Chapter 20

  When Sam arrived at his apartment in Regents Row it was already 9.30 p.m. and he was bushed. It had been a long, long day. He pulled the key Peter had given him out of his jacket pocket, shoved it in the brass-lined keyhole and opened the glossy back door. Sam let the heavy door shut behind him, leaned back against the door, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. Then he went to look for a bed to collapse onto. He found a bedroom with a king-size bed. The apartment was expensively but minimally furnished, like something from a brochure. But he was too tired to pick up on any more details. He walked over to the bed and, without bothering to take off his clothes, fell on it. Within seconds he was asleep.

  ***

  He woke to a noise and checked the digital clock on the bedside table. 1.30 a.m. More noises – coming from the hallway, he thought. If it was a break-in they were making a very bad job of being quiet. Sam got out of bed, grabbing his Glock from beside the clock, and leaving the lights off went in search of the noisy burglar. But instead of a burglar he found Suzie. It had been too dark to recognize the black figure standing in the hallway carefully closing the apartment door as her. But he couldn’t mistake the apple and cinnamon scent of her perfume. He flicked the light switch on the wall – and flooded the hallway with light.

  “Hello,” he said, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the brightness.

  Suzie had her back to him closing the door. She jerked when the light came on and then turned around. She’d changed out of the black bomber jacket and jeans she’d been wearing earlier. The jeans and puffy jacket combo weren’t what most people would have thought of as sexy clothing. Even so they’d looked pretty good on Suzie. But she’d changed into a figure-hugging cotton dress. Sam found his eyes tracing her body – following every curve.

  “Hi,” said Suzie.

  Sam shook his head to clear it.

  “Hi.”

  She smiled – impishly – making two dimples appear in her cheeks.

  “I thought you might like some company.”

  He was smiling now – as Suzie walked up to him and then ran her hand throu
gh his hair. Her skin was ice-cold from outside and made Sam shiver. She pulled him close pressing her body against his, and traced her fingers down his cheek to his neck and the chest, stopping at the nipple. She leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip a little as she did.

  “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” she said softly.

  Sam was pulling at that tight flimsy dress in a heartbeat while his lips pressed against Suzie’s. He felt like he was inside her somehow. Her smell, her body seemed to surround him. Then, when she and he were both naked, she took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

  ***

  In the morning when he woke to the smell of her perfume, and felt Suzie’s body against his, he felt good for the first time since this whole nightmare had begun. Maybe life wasn’t a complete crock of shit, he thought as he gently kissed Suzie’s shoulder, careful not to wake her, and looked through the open window at the manicured lawns on the edge of Regent’s Park. As Sam enjoyed the pre-dawn stillness, and the warmth of Suzie’s body, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

  The shrill buzz of his JIS cell phone – newly acquired from Peter – shattered his mood, and had him leaning over Suzie and fumbling for it on the bedside table. By the time he found it and pressed answer Suzie was fully awake and Sam’s mood had taken a nosedive. The caller ID was blank but he knew who it was.

  “I need you and Suzie here now,” said Peter sounding like he’d been up all night.

  “Where are you?” said Sam, mouthing “Peter” to Suzie.

  “In Whitehall,” replied Peter.

  Sam shifted to phone to his right ear and sat up, suddenly alert and worried.

  “What’s happened?”

  “New Dawn have broken into Number Ten and taken the PM hostage.”

  Chapter 21

  The JIS Audi pulled up on the edge of Downing Street in front of a set of black steel gates, and a ridiculously large guy in a too-small grey suit who appeared out of nowhere bundled Suzie and Sam out of the car. Behind the gates was mayhem. It looked like half of JIS were there – a host of cars, agents, snipers on the roofs of every building overlooking Number Ten. JIS was ready, it seemed, for a war.

  The bulky minder led Suzie and Sam past the chaos to a large white articulated truck bristling with aerials. The back doors were open, and the inside had been converted into a mini JIS office, with desks, computer terminals and two agents wearing headphones bent over their terminals. Peter was inside sat at a small table at the back. Suzie and Sam climbed up and sat opposite him.

  “Is this for real?” said Suzie.

  Peter sighed. He looked even more knackered than before.

  “It’s real. New Dawn have taken the PM hostage. They’re holding him right now along with half a dozen of his staff in his private office.”

  “How?” said Sam, glancing at the army of personnel on Downing Street.

  Peter grimaced as if embarrassed. “We don’t know.”

  “Did they use their abilities?”

  Peter shook his head. “We don’t know.”

  “What do they want?” said Suzie.

  Peter’s jaw clenched.

  “The release of every New Dawn we’re holding. And that request – before you ask – will not be granted. Even for the PM.”

  There was a long pause while they digested Peter’s words.

  “Why are we here, Peter?” said Sam finally.

  Peter gave Sam a dirty look.

  “I told you. New Dawn have the PM at gunpoint.”

  That wasn’t an answer. Sam hoped Peter wasn’t going to give him another impossible mission, one that would require his special talents. Because there was still precious little fucking sign of them. He wanted to help, but he didn’t want to be put on the spot again and come up short. He wouldn’t mind if Peter needed his skills – as a JIS officer. He seemed to have retained most of them, as if they were hardwired. But he knew Peter was only interested in his ability.

  “But that doesn’t explain why we are here, Peter.”

  Suzie’s thigh touched Sam’s. He shifted his leg away. He couldn’t afford to be persuaded by Suzie into another impossible situation.

  Peter stared at Sam for a long moment – his eyes hard, his cheeks slightly flushed.

  “Because of an old friend, Sam.”

  Sam rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. He wished Peter would just for once use plain English – instead of innuendo and hints.

  “What old friend?” he said.

  Suzie put her hand on his. She must have sensed the rising anger in him. She might even have guessed the reason: that Sam was afraid Peter was going to give him a job that required his telepathic ability. Sam wouldn’t be able to deliver again. He’d fuck it up – because he had no damn control over his special ability. It would be Waterloo all over again.

  Suzie squeezed his hand.

  “It’s Glaser, isn’t it?” she said to Peter.

  “Yes,” answered Peter.

  Sam wanted to grab Peter by the neck and shake him until he started making sense. But he settled for another question.

  “What the fuck are you two talking about?”

  Peter blew out a breath.

  “The PM has been taken hostage by your ex-partner, Craig Glaser.”

  Sam pulled his hand away from Suzie’s.

  “My what? I thought JIS agents didn’t have partners.”

  Peter leaned forward and spoke slowly, like he might to a young child.

  “If two agents work particularly well together or their skills match they might be paired up for an operation – sometimes for several. Sometimes for a career. It all depends.”

  “And I had a partner?” asked Sam, feeling like an idiot stumbling in the dark.

  “Yes, a man called, Craig Glaser. He leads New Dawn.”

  Sam sat back in his chair as if Peter had hit him with a flurry of stiff-armed jabs. You had a partner. Oh, and by the way, your partner is head of the most dangerous terror group this country has ever known. Which would probably soon be followed by And I need you to stop him.

  Sam rubbed his hand over his forehead – feeling like he was drowning. Of course he couldn’t remember any Craig Glaser, and he couldn’t be sure Peter wasn’t fucking with him again.

  “Why are you only just telling me this now?” he said, trying to deflect Peter for long enough to clear his head.

  “Because you didn’t need to know before,” answered Peter quick as a flash. Now you do – because Glaser is in Number Ten with a gun to the PM’s head.”

  Sam shook his head trying to clear that drowning feeling. He had a hundred questions. But only one mattered right now.

  “Was he telepathic like me?”

  “No, not telepathic – but he had some other abilities.”

  “Like what?”

  “Weakly enhanced mental abilities, and slightly enhanced regenerative capacity.”

  “What?”

  “He could heal a little quicker than the average human. Really, Sam, it was nothing special. But he was an excellent agent.”

  Sam ducked his head, rubbing his hand through his hair, aware of Suzie’s concerned eyes on him. She was unusually quiet. He wondered how much she knew about Glaser, New Dawn and the post-humans. Possibly everything. In which case she’d hidden a great deal from him. He didn’t know, but he could only deal with one problem at a time. And right now he wanted to put his cards on the table – so there could be no misunderstanding between him and Peter.

  “You know my ability is switched off. Right now, I’m not telepathic or anything else.”

  “So what’s the plan?” asked Suzie before Peter could answer.

  “We’re going to take the bastard out,” said Peter.

  “So we’re not negotiating,” said Sam.

  “I told you, Sam.” Peter had that “I’m talking to a young child” tone again. “His demands are unacceptable to us. We can’t negotiate, and he – I can assure you – won’t back down.”

&
nbsp; Sam blinked at Peter. He had been away for ten years but the realities of life hadn’t changed in that time. And that meant storming a secure government building like Number Ten without giving Glaser ample time to kill the PM and whoever else he was holding – it would be impossible.

  “How?”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute. First take a look at this.”

  Peter passed him another A4 manila file about half an inch thick. Sam was getting to really dislike these files. But he took it, glancing briefly at Suzie as he did to see if she had any idea what was inside. If she did she showed no sign.

  Sam flicked through the file, scanning the contents. It was Glaser’s file or rather Glaser’s and Sam’s. A detailed description by the look of it of every mission they’d been on. Covert ops, assassinations, recruiting agents, developing them, collecting intelligence, sabotage in every part of Europe and Asia. Sam was impressed but didn’t remember any of it. It might as well have been written about someone else. And Peter was out of luck if he expected some kind of insight here.

  He closed the file and put it on the table in front of him.

  Peter didn’t seem to realize or accept what Sam was only starting to see himself. The younger man had been damaged – hurt – both physically and mentally. And his recovery, if it happened, would be long, slow and painful. He was in no state to be involved in operations like this – with real people’s lives at stake. Not now and maybe not ever. Stopping Glaser was a job for JIS Special Forces or one of Peter’s expert negotiators, not a washed-up ex-superhuman.

  “He’s threatened to shoot a hostage every hour until we release the New Dawn prisoners,” said Peter in a low voice.

  Sam knew Peter expected a response and forced himself to ask the obvious question.

  “Releasing the New Dawn prisoners is not on the table?”

  “It isn’t. Of course we’ve told Glaser we’re working on it. But he’s no fool. If he doesn’t see his friends’ faces on the TV in the next few hours he’ll start firing.”

  “So how? There’s no way you can storm Number Ten.”