Jimmy Coates

by Joe Craig

  Saffron appeared at the driver’s door and dragged the two rubbish men from the cab. She nodded to Jimmy, acknowledging his skill and efficiency. Jimmy was already jumping down to the street and running to the first house, while Saffron took the bin men to the Bentley and bound them in gaffer tape.

  When Jimmy had faked the fox attack, he’d only overturned alternate bins. Now he headed for the ones he’d left standing. He dragged the first one out to the back of the truck. The stench was thick and fruity, but it didn’t bother him. Without emotion he noticed the third member of the refuse team – a fatter man that Saffron had already dealt with. He was nestled among the rubbish inside the truck, unconscious, like a baby hippo sleeping in a polluted swamp.

  “Don’t forget this one,” Jimmy said firmly. His heart was pumping but his breathing was steady, a plume of condensation flowering from his lips with every breath. In seconds, Saffron was back with the bag of explosive devices. She tied the last man up with his colleagues while Jimmy took the first device from the bag and plunged it deep into the full bin. Then he wedged the bin upright in the back of the truck.

  He did the same with seven more full dustbins, until they were all stacked up on top of each other in the truck. Meanwhile Saffron left the Bentley round the back of a line of garages, then ran out with the handsaw and the Cornettos. Jimmy took the handsaw and two of the ice creams from her as she jumped into the cabin of the truck. The engine was still running.

  “South corner, twenty minutes,” she called out, taking the first huge lick of her Cornetto. Jimmy gave a firm wave with the saw, ripped the top off his own ice cream, and jogged away, back in the direction of Chisley Hall. Exactly nineteen minutes later, their attack began.

  Jimmy sprinted round to the southern corner of Chisley Hall just in time to see Saffron roaring up the road in the rubbish truck from the other direction. She spotted him and smiled. Immediately Jimmy signalled not to slow down. She gave a nod, and Jimmy jumped on to the back of the truck as she passed. There was no need for any more communication between them. They both knew their jobs. Jimmy could see from the back of the truck that she’d played her part so far – only one rubbish bin was left. Saffron must have distributed the others round the perimeter wall of Chisley Hall, just as she was supposed to.

  Jimmy tossed his handsaw among the rubbish and brushed the leaves from his huge coat with one hand, then wiped the ice cream from round his lips. His other arm was looped round one of the pistons of the truck’s dumping mechanism. His mouth and nose were filled with the rich rubbish stench.

  Had he done enough to make escape possible? He wished he had more time, but time was one thing they had very little of. I did all I could, he told himself. It would have to be enough. He would find out for sure later. For now, the main part of the operation was just beginning, and making his escape seemed a long way off.

  The truck turned the corner into the top of Chisley Hall’s driveway. Jimmy knew they were only about fifty metres from the gate now. He tried to steady his nerves. His programming was rushing through him, gathering pace along with the acceleration of the truck. He felt power surging into his muscles, swamping the fear and weakness in his heart. Then he picked out the first warning. A voice bellowing through a loudspeaker came to him on the wind that swirled round his head. The words were lost, but Jimmy knew it would be a message instructing the driver of the truck to stop and turn back.

  They were charging closer and closer. Jimmy forced himself to resist peering round the side of the truck to see the main gate of Chisley Hall looming towards them. Then came the second warning, this one shorter than the first – more urgent. Jimmy braced himself, ready for action, each step of what he was about to try running through his imagination. Stay calm, he ordered himself. Do this one step at a time.

  A rifle shot cracked through the air. Just another warning, Jimmy reassured himself, and he urged the truck onwards, faster and faster. Finally a volley of gunfire blistered across the country road. Jimmy winced, certain that Saffron would have ducked down beneath the dashboard, but terrified nonetheless.

  The gunfire didn’t let up. They knew this was an attack now but the truck was already too fast to be stopped. There was no going back. The battle was on. Jimmy pulled out his mobile phone, scrolled to the first number and poised his thumb over the call button.

  CLANG!

  The truck crashed through the gates like a charging rhino. The huge wrought-iron structure buckled and twisted, desperate to hold on to its hinges. Chunks of brickwork ripped out of the wall as the gates flew into the air. Jimmy knew he was through, into the grounds of Chisley Hall. He pressed his thumb down on the call button of his phone. At the same moment, he dived from the truck and rolled across the grass. For a split second he was exposed. The truck wasn’t shielding him any more, and the gunfire was thundering down from all directions. But then:

  BOOM!

  Jimmy’s phone call connected to the device in the back of the rubbish truck. The spark from the wiring in the phone ignited the fuse, which detonated the explosives. It was perfect. The blast was magnified by the extra pressure from the device being packed into the bottom of a full rubbish bin, and as if that wasn’t enough, some of the material in the bin was flammable. Jimmy had counted on that. He felt the thrill of executing a good plan to maximum effect.

  The truck bucked violently in a shower of bright flashes and flames. The back end leapt off the ground until Jimmy was sure the whole thing would tip over. Immediately his view was obscured by thick black smoke – and so was the view of every security guard trying to fight off the attackers. By the time the back of the truck slammed down on the ground, Jimmy was swamped in total blackness.

  He pulled himself across the turf on his front, digging in with his elbows. After a few seconds he could make out Saffron doing the same thing a few metres ahead of him. Guards were descending on the burning truck, but visibility was so bad they were in chaos. Some were shouting orders, some were firing wildly into the metal, while a few were trying to take control and warn the others away – for all they knew there were more devices hidden on the truck timed to blow up.

  Jimmy coughed and spluttered in the fumes, but kept moving forward. Then, beneath the shouts and gunfire, Jimmy picked out two sharp grunts. Saffron had struck. One of the guards had stumbled too close to her and she’d pounced, bringing the man down with a single strike, but following up with a second to be certain he was out cold. Jimmy caught up with her just in time to see her dragging the guard’s uniform off him. Quickly, Jimmy urged in his head. As soon as the smoke clears we’re exposed.

  Saffron pulled the uniform on over her clothes and jumped to her feet. Jimmy shadowed her, staying just close enough to stay in touch, but far enough back so that whoever she came in contact with wouldn’t see him.

  “Man down!” Saffron yelled, deliberately stumbling and coughing. She brandished the guard’s walkie-talkie above her head and headed for a second security man. “They need two more to secure the control centre! We need to get there!”

  “What?” The second guard was confused. At first he swung his handgun towards Saffron, but lowered it when he could make out the uniform through the smog.

  “The control centre!” Saffron repeated. “You and me. Let’s go.”

  “The attack is here!” the man shouted back. “The control centre is…” He pulled out his walkie-talkie to check. Before he could speak, Jimmy placed another call. The sound of the second explosion came from far away on the other side of the Chisley Hall grounds, but it was powerful enough to resound in Jimmy’s ears.

  The guard spun round in the direction of the second explosion.

  “Come on!” he shouted, and set off towards the main house, beckoning for Saffron to follow. Jimmy tore after them, shrouded in smoke. After a few metres, however, the blackness cleared and Jimmy saw Chisley Hall itself. The glory of it made him catch his breath, despite the danger. The red brick seemed to glow, while flashes of autumn sunlight pierced t
he smoke and picked out the cream stone trimmings. The frontage was divided into three, with each section boasting three lines of three windows. The elegant balance of the proportions made Jimmy wish he knew something about architecture – not that he had any time to admire it.

  There were guards everywhere now, swarming over the plush green lawns and through the ornamental gardens. Jimmy quickly set off another explosion using his phone. The security forces turned as one in the direction of the latest blast to see a black tower of flames and smoke rising at the edge of the estate, along with a few brightly coloured sparks. The distraction was enough to cover those few vital seconds when Jimmy was exposed. He and Saffron made it to the front door of the house on the heels of the security guard, who was unknowingly acting as their guide.

  To Jimmy’s delight, the inside of the house was in almost as much disorder as the outside. Security guards were charging in every direction, looking totally out of place next to the wood panelling and marble floor. Stuffed heads of dead animals lined the walls, peering down on the mess, disgruntled. After a couple of seconds, Jimmy realised he didn’t even need to hide himself. The guards obviously hadn’t been expecting an attack – not the day after the election.

  Jimmy kept his head down and pushed through the rush of people. He caught two female guards glancing at him, but in his pocket, his thumb was poised on the buttons of his phone. Another explosion outside quickly drew attention away from him, and in seconds he and Saffron had been led out of the entrance hall, down a dark wooden staircase.

  There were more guards running ahead of them now. Four more had been enlisted by the man at the front to help secure the control centre and Saffron blended in with them effortlessly. There was too much panic for anybody to notice that her ID didn’t match her face – she was neither white nor male – and obviously nobody had found the unconscious guard outside yet.

  Two floors below ground level Jimmy was beginning to marvel at the unseen enormousness of the place. The kitchens and old servants’ quarters stretched out in corridors that reminded Jimmy of the NJ7 labyrinth under London. While the group of guards, including Saffron, ran up one long corridor, Jimmy hid behind a huge stuffed bear until he could follow without being seen. Then his body glided forward, every muscle shifting to keep him light on his feet, moving silently.

  Down another flight of stairs came the cellars. At first, they were the original cellars of the stately home, but the next level down took on a very different appearance. Instead of well-worn flagstones, stuffed animals and a wooden staircase, the deepest level had a concrete floor and modern strip lights – again, just like NJ7 HQ. It had clearly been excavated and constructed much more recently than the rest of Chisley Hall, but it wasn’t modern. From the yellowing paint on the walls, Jimmy suspected it dated from the Second World War.

  Jimmy felt his body preparing to strike. That throbbing violence beneath his skin bubbled constantly, building until it even seemed to infuse the breath in his lungs. The guards filed through a large black door. As soon as it shut behind them, Jimmy burst into a sprint. He heard one brief shout, then a series of grunts that echoed off the walls. He charged through the door and crashed straight into the backs of two security guards. One went down straightaway. The other tried to swivel to defend himself, but Jimmy was too fast – and unexpectedly small. The guard’s fist swished well over his head, while he jammed the base of both palms into the man’s gut.

  Saffron had already brought down the other three guards. She was calmly collecting their walkie-talkies and making sure they were unconscious. Jimmy did the same for his two, while all the time there were two more men sitting bolt upright on swivel chairs with their hands up. These two were obviously technical staff, not security guards. Their build was much more delicate. Both wore slightly crumpled suits with ties dangling loosely from their necks. Jimmy immediately noticed a food stain on the younger man’s shirt.

  “Whatever you want, we’ll cooperate,” said the older of the two men calmly. “We don’t need to be heroes. But you can’t change anything now. The election’s over. The votes have been counted and the result—”

  “We’re counting them again,” Saffron interrupted. “How do we get to the machines?”

  “The machines?”

  Saffron slapped him across the cheek. “I thought you were cooperating?” Jimmy was shocked by her sudden but serene aggression. “The voting kiosks. Where are they?”

  The two technicians were sitting with the backs of their chairs pressed up against the work station – a desk covered in a bank of monitors and four keyboards, each one with a green stripe on it. Stacked up at either end were two piles of computer hard drives with multicoloured wires spilling out of them. The constant whirring blended with the frightened panting of the two computer operators.

  Saffron sighed and raised her hand, ready to administer another slap.

  “OK,” said the older man quickly. “I told you, I’m cooperating!”

  “So…?” Saffron’s open hand was still hovering over her shoulder.

  “The kiosks are being decommissioned.”

  “Sorry, I’m not fluent in geek,” Saffron replied, not dropping her hand.

  “Dismantled,” the younger technician cut in. “He means they’re being automatically and securely taken apart. Up there.” He nodded towards the corner of the room, where six metal rungs attached to the wall led to a hatch in the ceiling. “To recycle or destroy the components without exposing the sensitive data.”

  “Without exposing the way people really voted, you mean.” Saffron gave Jimmy a nod. He was already halfway up the ladder.

  “You can’t go up there!” the older technician shouted. Saffron slapped him, but Jimmy noticed it was softer this time. “It doesn’t matter how many times you slap me,” the man protested, rubbing his cheek and cowering slightly. “I meant it’s dangerous to go up there. It’s a mechanical production line and it’s running. It could rip you apart.”

  Jimmy hesitated at the top of the ladder, his fingers hovering on the brass latch. He hadn’t failed to notice the bright-orange hazard sign staring him in the face.

  The moment of silence was broken by the other technician. “We can turn it off,” he said quietly. Without waiting for Saffron’s permission, he turned to one of the computer keyboards and tapped a few keys.

  “Now that’s cooperating,” Saffron beamed. “But it does make it harder for me to do this.”

  “What?” Before the word had fully escaped the technicians’ mouths, Saffron’s hands jerked out. With two deft flicks she chopped both men in the side of the head simultaneously. She caught them as they slumped forward and settled them in their chairs, unconscious.

  “Get up there, Jimmy,” Saffron ordered. “If we’re lucky we’ve got about two minutes before anybody—” She turned to see an empty ladder and an open hatch. Jimmy was already gone.

  Jimmy clambered up on to a rickety metal platform a couple of metres square. It overlooked a dimly lit, cavernous hall six metres below that must have stretched out under the whole building. A line of voting kiosks wound its way round the hall like the Great Wall of China. They were clamped on to some kind of conveyor belt that at times disappeared into huge grey blocks of machinery. All of this just so that people can vote, Jimmy thought.

  As the production line continued, the kiosks were more and more stripped down, like bodies with the flesh removed, revealing the skeletons underneath. In fact, there were only a few left intact. Did any of them still have the data he needed? Jimmy wondered.

  He dashed across the platform, swung himself over the safety rail and climbed down the wall to the production floor. He ran to the start of the conveyor belt, where the last few kiosks were still complete, and he could be sure they hadn’t lost their hard drives yet. He searched one for an identification or serial number. He felt like he was inspecting a soldier at the head of his regiment. The serial number was on the bottom corner of the machine and as soon as he found it, Jimmy pul
led out his phone. Saffron answered straightaway.

  “I wasn’t sure we’d have phone reception down here,” she said.

  “Nor me,” Jimmy replied. “But I’m glad we do.” He was thinking of setting off another explosion in the grounds outside to try to buy them a little more time. “I need you to find the data for voting kiosk number MA-C*080-5.”

  “No problem.”

  Jimmy still had the screwdriver on him from when he’d built the explosive devices. He knelt down at the back of the machine and cradled his phone in the crook of his neck while he unscrewed the cover on the kiosk to expose the wiring. Meanwhile, he could hear the faint tapping of keys – Saffron was playing her part at the other end of the phone. But while Saffron could simply download the data on to a flash drive, Jimmy had no way of powering up the kiosk to try hacking the software. He’d come prepared to dismantle the guts of the machine and find its hard drive. That’s where the raw data would be stored – the actual votes that people had made in the election. And that’s what he would need the UN Inspector to compare to the data Saffron found. “How you doing?” Jimmy asked, teasing out the wires of the kiosk with his screwdriver.

  “I’m nearly there,” Saffron replied. “Just a few codes to get through…”

  Jimmy felt a smile creep on to his face, despite the tension in his chest. His hands were steady and it felt like the screwdriver was simply an extension of his finger. He reached deep into the kiosk and pulled out the components one by one, aware that somewhere in his head he knew what each part was and that his instincts were using that knowledge to navigate towards the hard drive. He could almost hear a whisper, listing the components as he removed them: motherboard, sound card, fan…