by Rob Stevens
Archie looked into the cold beady eyes of the man who was about to kill him. Suddenly a brilliant white light flashed momentarily across Klaus’s face. The intensely bright spot passed quickly from the professor’s left ear lobe to his right temple then, almost instantaneously it was gone.
Remaining completely still, Von Grosskopf stared at Archie with a smug grin fixed on his coarse face.
‘Come on then,’ Archie goaded, glancing back at the bubbling blue-green acid awaiting him. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
Klaus didn’t move.
Then Archie noticed a wisp of smoke rising from the right side of the goon’s eyebrow. A moment later a straight red line appeared across Klaus’s brow and a thick crimson liquid started to trickle down his face. Archie suddenly understood what that bright light must have been.
Still grinning, Von Grosskopf released Archie’s foot and let his hands drop to his sides. Klaus fell to his knees and the top half of his head, which had been cleanly sliced through by the laser, was jarred loose by the impact. The bloody dome slid down the angled cleft through his skull, toppled on to his shoulder and bounced on to the floor. Archie leaped out of the way as Klaus’s lifeless body slumped forward, sprawling over the edge of the moat and sliding into the boiling chemicals.
Relieved and shaken, Archie turned and beamed at Barney who was clambering to his feet on the platform, his cheeks pink with exertion. His intervention had slewed the gun away from the Prime Minister, swinging the laser beam around the Command Room and leaving it pointing at the ceiling.
‘Nice work, Agent Zulu,’ Archie said. ‘Or should I call you Super-Zulu?’
‘You can just call me Super,’ Barney replied, blushing.
‘I can’t believe you did that,’ Gemma marvelled, getting to her feet.
‘I was only risking my life to save a fellow agent.’ Barney shrugged. ‘It was no biggie.’
‘I meant I can’t believe you actually managed to jump.’ Gemma smiled as she jogged over the bridge to study the control panels.
‘Listen, thanks,’ said Archie. ‘I really put my foot in it with Klaus, didn’t I?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Barney replied. ‘I think his invention went to his head in the end.’
‘By the way,’ Archie said, nodding to the scorched trail veering across the platform and over Adam Winchester’s ankle. ‘Good thinking – using the manacle to protect the PM’s leg. Otherwise he’d have been going back to London in two pieces.’
Barney’s cheeks instantly lost their reddish hue. ‘All part of the plan,’ he laughed unconvincingly.
‘Guys, I think I’ve found the Manacle Release Mechanism,’ Gemma called.
She turned a dial, flicked a series of switches and the four metal cuffs sprang open. Barney helped the Prime Minister to his feet and they both edged gingerly over the gangplank.
Adam Winchester gratefully shook hands with each of the agents. Gemma reached up to peel the silver duct tape from over his mouth but he recoiled and shook his head urgently, mumbling unintelligibly and gesturing to his face.
‘I think he’s saying that Evelyn Tension glued the tape to his face with super-strength adhesive,’ Barney reported. ‘If you pull it off it will remove half of his face. It’s perforated so he can breathe OK but it can only be removed by applying a chemical solvent.’
Adam Winchester nodded rapidly to confirm Barney’s translation.
Archie and Gemma exchanged looks of incredulity. ‘Dare I ask how you can understand him?’ Gemma enquired.
Barney beamed. ‘If you’d seen as many spy films as I have, you’d be able to speak fluent Gaglish too.’
‘Gaglish?’ Archie repeated.
‘Uh-huh,’ Barney replied, as if perplexed by his friend’s ignorance. ‘Gaglish is the particular dialect of English spoken by anyone wearing a gag.’
Archie felt a cold wet drop land on his arm. Instinctively he looked up, as if inspecting the sky for rainclouds, and his mood darkened.
The laser beam had burned a hole in the roof of the Command Room about the size of a squash ball. But as well as the ceiling immediately above them Archie knew the laser had scorched its way through the submarine’s outer skin – because sea water was now gushing through the hole.
‘The laser’s breeched the hull!’ he said.
‘We’re looking at Dakota Level flotation capability,’ Barney remarked, studying the roof. ‘Possibly Level Indianapolis.’
‘Which means?’ Gemma probed.
Barney pursed his lips gravely. ‘We’re sinking. Fast.’
‘This way!’ Archie yelled. ‘Hurry we don’t have much time.’
The water was sloshing over his ankles as he ran towards the doorway. By the time he’d ducked through the hatch and waded along the walkway to the ladder he was waist deep in a fast moving current.
‘You go first,’ he called to Gemma, at the foot of the ladder. ‘Take the Prime Minister to the safety-hatch we came in through.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll be right behind you. We need to get the PM out of here.’
Gemma nodded once and scurried up the ladder.
The water was gushing from the command room like swirling river rapids and Archie had to grip the ladder firmly. Adam Winchester was next up, followed by Barney. As his friend’s feet receded above him Archie lifted one foot to the first rung.
Unknown to Archie, the floodwater had dislodged a fire extinguisher from its mounting and was dragging it along the floor. Just as he was about to climb the ladder the heavy steel cylinder struck Archie’s standing leg, knocking it from under him. He slipped and fell under the water, which closed around him like an icy fist, squeezing the breath from his lungs.
Floundering beneath the angry torrent Archie struggled to hold on to the ladder but his hands were frozen and his strength was failing. He knew if he lost his grip he’d be swept down into the bowels of the submarine – never to draw breath again. Agonisingly he felt his grip start to loosen and his fists began to unfurl. The rung slipped from his fingers and the force of the water took over him.
Archie knew he was powerless to resist. He closed his eyes and relaxed, surrendering himself to the overwhelming force of the ocean. But suddenly something gripped his outstretched arm, pulling him against the might of the current. His eyes sprang open and he saw a hand clasping his wrist, pulling him back towards the ladder, which he grabbed with renewed determination.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
Barney nodded. ‘You looked a little out of your depth.’
‘I was getting a bit carried away.’ Archie smiled wryly. ‘How did you know to come back for me?’
‘When the hero stays behind until last, he always encounters some kind of trouble. Everyone knows that.’
Suddenly the submarine lurched, throwing the boys against the railing.
‘We’re sinking,’ Archie said, urging Barney along the walkway, which was now angled steeply downward.
The floodwater had swamped the lower level and was surging up through the metal grille of the walkway. Archie and Barney pelted along the narrow corridor. The torrent echoed louder and louder as the flood gained on them, coursing rapidly through the sub’s narrow corridors. Within seconds the water level had risen to their knees.
‘Hurry!’ Archie yelled, struggling to make himself heard over the metallic roar of the flood.
Frantically they ducked through the hatch in the bulkhead and sloshed towards the exit. The inner hatch of the airlock was open and Gemma and Adam Winchester were inside the capsule, which was already half full of floodwater. Archie and Barney clambered in and pulled the hatch shut spinning the inner handle to lock it.
Adam Winchester was just zipping up a black wetsuit – flexing his knees as he hauled the fastener up to his chin.
‘Where did that come from?’ Archie asked.
Gemma shrugged and jabbed her thumb at a recess in the curved wall that was covered by a piece of shattered glass.
Barney read out the label above the compartment. ‘Emergency wetsuit: break glass in case of sinking.’
‘Handy,’ Archie commented. ‘And it happens to be a perfect fit too.’
‘There were no masks or oxygen cylinders in there though.’ Gemma held up the three sets of STINKBOMB scuba gear she’d recovered from their alcove. ‘So we’re one short.’
‘Mr Winchester can have mine,’ Archie said, firmly passing a mask and air tank to the Prime Minister. ‘I’ll hold my breath.’
‘You’ll never make it,’ Barney said plaintively. ‘Who knows how far we’ve sunk? It could be minutes before we reach the surface.’
Archie knew his friend was right and his stomach was flipping out with fear but he tried to keep his voice even. ‘Listen, Mr Winchester has to have a mask which means one of us must go without. I’ve done the Advanced Navy Diver Emergency Training so if one of us has to swim without an oxygen tank it should be me.’
Gemma and Barney exchanged worried glances, then nodded reluctantly. Adam Winchester placed a hand on Archie’s shoulder, fixed him with a meaningful stare and mumbled something totally unintelligible.
‘Did he say, Your crunchy nose is a bit wet?’ Archie asked.
Barney laughed ‘No. He said, Your country owes you a big debt. Then he said, You will never be forgotten.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Archie swallowed hard. ‘When you place the mask over your face it will fill with oxygen. Just breathe normally. I suggest you follow Agent X-ray through the hatch. Agent Zulu will be right behind you. They’ll escort you to the surface.’
‘You should go first,’ Barney insisted.
Archie shook his head firmly. ‘I don’t want to distract you. Your priority is to make sure the Prime Minister is safe.’
Gemma, Barney and Adam Winchester pulled the rubber balaclavas over their heads, slung their oxygen cylinders on their backs and adjusted their masks. Archie took his last opportunity to take some deep breaths, filling his lungs and forcing as much oxygen as possible into his bloodstream.
‘Ready,’ Gemma announced, giving the others a thumbs up. Barney and the PM responded with the same hand signal.
‘OK, let’s get out of here,’ Archie said. ‘This place is a wreck.’
Barney reached overhead and rotated the cross-shaped handle on the outer hatch. The latch turned slowly at first, then spun freely, withdrawing four integral locking bolts. A motor began to drive the hatch open.
Archie took one last deep breath.
Then the freezing ocean cascaded into the chamber and closed over his head.
The water was like an icy mask pressing against Archie’s bare face. He felt trapped and helpless – like he’d been buried in a watery coffin.
When the water was no longer gushing around his ears Archie knew the capsule was completely flooded. He watched Gemma’s blurry outline swim through the hatch, then he gestured to the Prime Minister to follow. Barney went next and Archie swam after him.
Archie placed his hands on the rim of the hatch and propelled himself into the blackness above.
He looked ahead, hoping to see the pale shimmer of moonlight on the surface but his eyes were met by nothing but darkness. Such absence of light would be impossible to find even in the remotest part of the world, where stars or clouds or distant towns always reflect some sort of illumination. Only as a child, accidentally shutting himself in his mother’s wardrobe, had Archie ever experienced such all consuming, terrifying blackness.
He looked round for a glimpse of his fellow agent’s head-torches but they had already been swallowed by the dark. Kicking hard, he pulled the water back with his arms, following the path of the bubbles that he released through his pursed lips. The immense pressure of the sea squeezed agonisingly on his temples and his eardrums, like a tightening vice.
He took another mighty stroke. His heart was pounding. Still nothing to see but blackness.
Two more desperate strokes. The veins in his throat were throbbing and his brain was pulsating.
Everything was still black.
Maybe he’d taken on too much? Maybe the sub had sunk further than he could swim holding his breath?
His breaststroke pull was weakening and his lungs were convulsing – crying out for oxygen. He fought the instinct to open his mouth wide and gasp for air because he knew it would mean certain death. He had to keep swimming but he knew he couldn’t manage more than a few more seconds.
Subversive thoughts swam into Archie’s head as oxygen starvation started to take its toll on his brain.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to end it all here. Just take a lungful of seawater and all the agony will be over.
A movement above caught his eye and he banished the seductive appeal of surrender from his mind. After another stroke he saw a flicker of light.
Out of the darkness emerged a faint row of tiny white lights and he knew it was the head-torch belonging to one of his fellow agents, searching the depths for him.
Ignoring the screaming pain in his chest and the unbearable constriction of his throat, he kicked for all he was worth. Punching through the surface with a scream he gasped in the cool night air.
Glancing around he saw three heads bobbing in the silvery moonlight.
‘Where’s the Dragonfly?’ he asked, his lungs heaving as he spoke.
‘Over there,’ Barney replied. ‘Bearing zero-six-zero degrees, approximate range two hundred yards.’
Archie looked at his watch. It was ten o’clock – T minus two hours.
‘Well what are you all waiting for? Last one there’s a numbskull.’
Five minutes later Archie helped the Prime Minister into the plane’s cockpit, watched from the back seats by Barney and Gemma.
‘I’m very sorry, Prime Minister, sir,’ Archie mumbled sheepishly. ‘I didn’t mean to call you a numbskull.’
Adam Winchester mumbled something and his good eye narrowed with amusement.
‘He says he’s been called worse,’ Barney said. ‘Usually by the Home Secretary.’
Dripping and shivering, Archie flipped open a small compartment in the cockpit’s central console and took out a spare pair of glasses – his others having been washed off somewhere in the sinking submarine. He slid the canopy closed and swept his hands across the aircraft’s control panels, flicking switches and pressing buttons.
Within a minute the Dragonfly’s two jet engines whined into life, Archie threw the throttles forward and the plane lifted off and speared into the sky.
As the jet ripped through the night, heading for London, Gemma called Helen Highwater and gave her an update on the mission, putting her on speakerphone so the other STINKBOMB agents could hear the conversation.
When Gemma had completed her summary of recent events, Highwater responded sharply. ‘When this is over I shall debrief you all on the importance of maintaining regular comms and following orders. But first of all we have to get the Prime Minister into Number Ten. Where is Yankee planning to land?’
‘Right in the middle of Downing Street,’ Archie replied, glancing anxiously at the plane’s flight management computer. ‘Our ETA is twenty-three fifty. We won’t have time for secrecy.’
‘That isn’t no big ting,’ Holden Grey chipped in. ‘We’ll file you as a diplomatic flight and clear any journalists from the proximate vicinity nearby.’
‘We can probably substitute the constable on the door.’ Highwater added, ‘Use passcode six-bravo to let him know who you are. But that’s as far as STINKBOMB’s clearance level will get you. Once you’re inside the building you’re on your own. Is that understood?’
‘Understood,’ Archie and Gemma replied.
Barney was munching a packet of crisps. ‘Copy that,’ he replied, spraying the glass canopy with moist yellow globules. ‘The three little pigs will flush out the wolf in sheep’s clothing from the lion’s den.’
‘Thank you, Zulu,’ Highwater sighed. ‘Good luck.’
‘Remember what’s
at stake, team,’ Grey said. ‘The national security of the nation.’
Gemma hung up and stared through the glass at the sea shimmering five hundred feet below. ‘It’s not just our nation that’s in danger though,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s all of them.’
Archie flew the Dragonfly low over the Essex countryside, echoing the gentle rise and fall of the terrain. Ripping over the twinkling lights of London, he thought about the millions of people living in the mosaic of buildings spread as far as he could see. He knew their safety depended on STINKBOMB’s success in the next – he glanced at his watch – fifteen minutes.
Over the river Archie descended to a hundred feet. Reaching Big Ben he banked hard, snapping the jet on to its wingtip. Easing the power back he lowered the Dragonfly on to the ground, directly in front of the iconic Georgian house with a glossy black door.
Archie and Barney jumped out of the plane and ran over to the policeman guarding the entrance to 10 Downing Street.
‘The sun rises in the east,’ Barney announced breathlessly.
The policeman gave him an impatient frown, but then his eyes slowly widened as the realisation dawned. Fumbling in his pocket he produced a small notebook and flipped it open.
‘Ah, yes, the sun rises in the east,’ he muttered, then clearly recited: ‘And it sets in the west.’
‘Every day,’ Barney replied, completing the sequence.
The policeman looked amazed. ‘You’re the MI6 operatives? In my fifteen years as a police off—’
‘Can you open the door, please?’ Archie interrupted firmly, tapping his watch. ‘We’re kind of in a hurry.’
With a deferential nod the PC opened the glossy black door. Archie checked his watch as he led the others into 10 Downing Street.
It was two minutes to midnight.
In the Cabinet Room inside the Prime Minister’s residence, Kurt Von Grosskopf was sitting at the head of a long wooden table. He was rather enjoying running the country – everyone doing exactly as he said, with no Klaus or Evelyn Tension bossing him around. Every one of the cabinet ministers was seated around the table alongside the most senior officers in each of the armed forces. Nobody spoke. All eyes were on the digital clock on the desk.
