by Joe Craig
The Capita woman stuffed the gun into her coat and thrust the laptop to the guard next to her.
“Plug this in,” she ordered. “Or do whatever you need to do to tell me we have the H Code.”
“Do you know what you could do with that?” Jimmy asked, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. In truth, he just needed to slow down the Capita. It wouldn’t take long once the laptop was powered up for them to realise that Jimmy and Saffron were bluffing.
“Sorry, Jimmy,” said the woman. “Enough conversation.”
“But you know what you’ve…”
“Be quiet.” The woman folded her arms and watched her assistant as he cradled the laptop in his arms and powered it up, still standing at the back of the room. Stop him, Jimmy heard himself thinking. Destroy him. He squeezed his fists, forcing the blackness of the club out of his head.
“Do we have it?” asked the woman. There was no response. “Do we have it?” she shouted. Jimmy knew his time was running out. He could hear the whirring of the laptop’s fan as the hard drive started up. All the time, the pounding of the club’s music was relentless. It seemed to surround him. But there was another noise too – a faint tapping. Viggo’s big toe was bobbing up and down in a slow but regular rhythm and Jimmy was the only one in the room able to hear it.
Jimmy glanced up at Viggo’s face. For a split second the zombie was gone and the man’s spirit was back. Jimmy felt a flood of exhilaration. Had Viggo’s body and mind been strong enough to withstand whatever the Capita had done to him? The next instant, Jimmy was sure. Viggo jerked a single eyebrow and flashed his eyes to one side. He was signalling. Immediately his expression switched back to the zombie, but Jimmy knew what to do.
“There’s a password,” he announced. “On the laptop.”
“No, there isn’t,” said the guard, looking at the screen.
“It’s an encrypted operating system,” Jimmy lied, stepping forward slowly.
“Stay there,” said the woman, positioning herself between him and the laptop. “What’s the password? Where does he enter it?” Jimmy was almost eye to eye with her. He could feel his limbs preparing for combat, throbbing with controlled power. But the assassin in him disguised his strength perfectly. He couldn’t afford to give away that he was ready to strike at any moment.
“You have to search for a file,” Jimmy explained, speaking slowly and clearly. “Open a search box.”
“What next?” asked the guard, urgently. “What do I type in?”
“Type in ‘now’,” Jimmy replied.
“Now?” the guard repeated, confused.
“N, O, W,” said Jimmy, then he shouted: “NOW!”
Suddenly Jimmy and Viggo burst into action. Jimmy leapt up and slapped at the light bulb in the centre of the ceiling like a basketball player delivering a slam dunk. In one movement he ripped the bulb free and threw it straight at the Capita woman. She just put her hand up in time to shield her face and the glass smashed against her elbow, but Jimmy followed it up with a kick while he was still in midair. The ball of his foot struck the woman’s temple with pinpoint accuracy and she staggered backwards, her eyes rolling in her head until she was able to support herself against the wall.
At the same time, Viggo swung his arms round in front of him. Somehow, he’d cut through the bindings at his wrists. In the chaos, nobody noticed the lemonade bottle cap falling from his fist. He ducked and swivelled, still sitting on the chair, and landed the base of his palm in the gut of the guard next to him.
At the door, the other guards tried to raise their weapons, but Saffron was quicker to react. She chopped both guards’ arms at the same time, slamming their wrists against the wall. As they struggled to hold on to their guns, Saffron delivered a knee to one man’s groin, then twisted to land a fist in the other man’s nose. Immediately she grabbed Viggo by the collar. He was still attached to his chair at the ankles, so she dragged him out into the storeroom.
Once Jimmy shattered the light bulb, the guard with the laptop spun it round to illuminate Jimmy and fight back. But he was too slow. Jimmy’s heel shot into the centre of the computer’s screen. Not only did the screen crack, but the force of the blow sent the laptop into the guard’s chest like a battering ram. Jimmy didn’t wait for his enemies to catch their breath. He dashed out, skidding into the storeroom after Saffron and Viggo. They were nowhere to be seen, but on the floor was the barman’s knife, a lemon and Viggo’s severed ankle ties.
Jimmy vaulted over the bar and landed among the crowd. He ignored the shouts, barged through to the edge of the balcony and looked out into the blackness. His eyes scanned the huge dance floor below, then the circles of the balconies below him. In a second, his mind highlighted what he needed to see – Saffron and Viggo had already made it to the next level down. They were charging round the balcony, ploughing people out of the way, heading for the stairs.
We’re going to do it, Jimmy thought. We’ve escaped the Capita.
BANG!
The shot ripped through the pounding music, straight to the centre of Jimmy’s senses. He automatically dropped low, but kept moving. His eyes were wide, every muscle tingling. Nobody round him had reacted. They didn’t know what they’d heard. Jimmy doubled his efforts, sprinting on, but then, abruptly, the music stopped. The lights came on. Everywhere, people blinked and staggered about, shouting and complaining.
Jimmy shoved his way through to the edge of the balcony again. He had to see what was happening. His mind raced to reconstruct the sound of the shot and isolate its source. From that he could work out the position of shooter and the identity of the target. Were they aiming at Viggo? Saffron? Jimmy himself? Before Jimmy could take two more steps, a second gunshot ripped through the calm confusion of the club – and it sparked chaos.
Jimmy was pressed up against the balcony railing by the surging mass of people, all screaming, all rushing for the exits. In the centre of the hysteria, Jimmy was focused. He had to decipher what was going on. He crawled to a solid pillar to shield himself, in case the shooting was aimed at him, bracing himself against the buffeting around him.
Another shot blasted through the screams. Something inside Jimmy was primed to pinpoint the noise. He turned just in time to see the black tip of a rifle on the balcony directly opposite him, on the same level. It withdrew immediately and disappeared into the crowd, but Jimmy knew that the angle of the shot had been levelled downwards. His eyes darted across the hall, tracking where his brain calculated the bullet must have been aimed.
It was pandemonium, but amid the surging sea of bodies on the level below, Jimmy spotted Saffron, lurching from side to side, with Viggo draped over her shoulders like a lion’s fleece. He was hit! Jimmy peered closer, but as soon as he looked, the heads of his two friends disappeared again into the mass. They’ll be OK, Jimmy told himself. It’s probably just a graze. No marksman could hit a single head in this crowd. But the crowd was gradually dispersing, especially on the top level, where Jimmy was. He was becoming more and more exposed.
He spun round, searching for the assassin. Then, through the crowd, he saw the white coat of the Capita woman. Was she the shooter? Jimmy instantly knew she wasn’t – she climbed on to the bar to look over the heads of the crowd. Her hands were empty and there was fear on her face.
“Don’t shoot!” she cried out. Her voice was completely lost in the clamour, but Jimmy’s eyes locked on to her lips and the words were obvious. “We need him alive!” She cried out. “Don’t shoot!” As the top-level balcony cleared and the constant screams travelled down the building, her voice finally broke through for Jimmy to hear: “We don’t have the H Code!”
Of course – Jimmy knew the Capita would be fools to try to kill Viggo now. They had taken him hostage for the H Code and that’s still what they were after. Viggo was the only one who could tell them where it was. Jimmy didn’t even know what it was, and the Capita must have realised by now that he’d been trying to bluff.
The
Capita woman marshalled her guards, who gathered in a force around her. She issued orders in a forceful stream: “Stop them! Bring Viggo back alive!” Then her eyes fell on Jimmy. The woman dismissed her guards and called out to him.
“Stop them!” she shouted. Does she mean me? Jimmy thought, frozen in her gaze. He wanted to run, but his programming was keeping him locked in place. A would-be assassin was up here somewhere trying to kill Viggo, so that’s where Jimmy had to be.
“Why are your people shooting at Viggo?” the woman screamed, marching right up to him. “Tell them to stop!”
“It’s not…” Jimmy said, stumbling over his words. The confusion on his face was reflected by the Capita woman. They stared at each other, almost nose to nose. They realised together that the situation had drastically changed. Somebody was trying to kill Viggo, and neither of them knew who it was.
Another shot made Jimmy shudder. His programming seemed to slap him from the inside, forcing his senses to focus again. But then came the blackness.
William Lee’s fingers trembled on his keyboard. He hunched over the computer as if people were constantly trying to watch what he was doing over his shoulder. But in reality, the large NJ7 tech lab was empty apart from him. He hammered each key like he was trying to kill an ant. This was his weapon. So far in his career he’d never been good at direct confrontation with an enemy. Guns made him nervous. All he could do with a knife was chop an onion. But at a computer keyboard, there was so much more that could be done, more cleanly, more efficiently, and more secretly.
With the tap of one final key, he sent out his carefully worded security alert to all NJ7 operatives in the area and every member of staff currently at NJ7 HQ. He had left out Miss Bennett, of course. He wanted her there. He had plans for her. But he double-checked that the recipients included the Prime Minister’s personal bodyguards.
A nervous smile wobbled his lips. He jumped up from the computer and ran through the corridors of NJ7. With delight, he watched agent after agent receiving the alert. Some of them consulted with each other, some were content to be confused on their own, but they all knew about the recent problems with the NJ7 satellite surveillance system. A security alert was to be taken seriously – especially a warning that they should all leave NJ7 HQ, and even clear the surrounding streets.
Lee was panting by the time he reached the distant corner of the NJ7 complex where there was an exit into the Great College Street car park. He supported himself against the wall, trying to breathe deeply. His heart was pounding with excitement, terror and a thousand other emotions. He couldn’t force from his head the idea that he was about to bring down a government. Where a democratic election had failed, where a genetically-programmed boy assassin had fallen short, William Lee was certain that he was about to triumph. In minutes, Ian Coates would be dead.
What’s more, if the coordinated attack on Christopher Viggo was going according to plan, then that man wouldn’t be around to take over. And I’ll deal with Miss Bennett myself, Lee thought. There would be only one person left to take over. It didn’t matter to Lee that the plan had come from his new masters, and that he was simply helping to put it into operation. They might think they have control, he thought, but I’ll be in power. William Lee would be Prime Minister, and once he achieved that, the people who thought they were controlling him would find things a little more difficult.
Lee took a deep breath and glanced up the corridor to check once again that it was empty. He didn’t have to worry about the CCTV cameras. He’d dealt with that already. He waited as long as he dared, to give the NJ7 agents time to clear the corridors, then pushed open the small white door that led out into the car park. His guest arrived as if the entrance had been timed down to the second. It was a woman, tall and elegant in a long grey coat. A single silver stud shone out from her ear, behind a curtain of long black hair.
The assassin didn’t acknowledge William Lee’s presence. She simply glided past him, her steps silent, and floated towards Number 10 Downing Street.
Eva hurried through the NJ7 corridors. She had to get to her appointment with her boss on time. If she was even half a minute late, Miss Bennett would be suspicious. There might not be any comment made, but she would still suspect something. And Miss Bennett’s slightest suspicion could be enough to prevent Eva from finding the information that would help Jimmy.
Eva was finally becoming comfortable with the strange and secretive systems used in the NJ7 archives. She was sure that eventually she would find what Jimmy needed. She couldn’t put that at risk with something as stupid as being late for Miss Bennett.
Suddenly she felt a fist on her arm. She was spun round and pressed up against the wall before she could even take a breath to scream. The whole corridor seemed to whirl round in a haze of blackness.
“What are they doing to him?” came a sharp whisper, barely a millimetre from her face. Mitchell pressed her against the wall and stared. Eva felt a thrill of relief and terror. She couldn’t look away from his huge, slate-grey eyes.
“You better let me go,” she insisted quietly, surprised that she sounded so calm when inside her there was so much confusion.
“You can’t just take me to see my brother lying unconscious on a slab with a laser in his eye and not tell me what’s happening. I knew they had him somewhere, alive, but what have they been doing to him? How long have they…?” Mitchell broke off, unable to finish, and looked down.
Eva took a moment before replying. She didn’t know how much to tell him. If she was honest, she wasn’t even sure how much of what she had found out could possibly be true.
“I think it’s…” She caught her breath as Mitchell’s eyes jumped to hers again. “I found something about it in Dr Higgins’ old files.”
“Dr Higgins?”
Eva immediately scolded herself for revealing that she’d been searching that man’s files. Dr Higgins had started the programme to create organic assassins through genetic manipulation, but he’d escaped from NJ7 and was possibly even dead. What reason could Eva have for snooping through his papers?
“I didn’t understand it all,” she went on, hoping to distract Mitchell by playing the ignorant little girl. “It all looked so complicated.” She let her lips bloom into a pout and sensed Mitchell’s grip weaken.
“What did it say?” he asked, a break in his voice.
“I’m sorry, Mitchell. I think Dr Higgins was trying to work out a way to give your brother new… abilities.”
“You mean, like… like me?” Mitchell stammered slightly over his words.
“You have them genetically, but your brother doesn’t. I think Dr Higgins revived an older experiment. Before he could create assassins genetically, he tried to do it through…”
“Through what? Tell me!”
“Mind control,” said Eva quickly, unable to believe she was even saying it. She didn’t understand it completely, but that was what she’d understood from the dusty, faded government reports on Dr Higgins’ old experimental programmes. From what she’d seen, over the years, the NJ7 tech team had been forced to explain their science to the non-scientific people in the Government – especially when they were asking for more money. Those documents had been Eva’s only hope of understanding why Lenny Glenthorne was being kept alive in the lab with a laser constantly trained on his eye.
“I think,” she went on, gently, “I think they’re still trying to work out a way to change a person’s personality and intentions… through their brain.”
“Can they change their genetics?” Mitchell asked. Eva was startled. That wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. Why was that the first thing Mitchell wanted to know? And why was there such a strange expression on his face now?
He released Eva and backed away, suddenly looking more vulnerable than Eva had ever seen. “Can they…?” he whispered, looking everywhere but at Eva. “What if they can reprogramme…”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Eva replied, frowning. “Thi
s isn’t genetics. This is brainwashing! They’re keeping him alive to continue the old experiments into changing a person’s brain when it’s already fully grown.”
For a few seconds the two of them stared at each other, slumped against the walls on opposite sides of the corridor. The positions of their bodies perfectly mirrored each other.
“They’re changing who he is,” Eva explained, though she was far from certain that was the truth. Really, she had no idea what was being zapped into Lenny Glenthorne’s mind. “If they bring him round,” she went on, “he might not be the same person.”
To Eva’s surprise, Mitchell let out a rough grunt of a laugh.
“The same person?” he spat. “You mean a miserable, mean…”
“He might not remember you,” Eva cut in, desperate to bring back the softness she’d seen in Mitchell only moments before. But the more he thought about his brother, the more hardened he seemed to become, in body and mind. “He might not be him any more!” Eva exclaimed.
Mitchell just stared at her. Eva wished she knew what he was thinking. For the first time she felt like Mitchell couldn’t even see her, and she realised that she hated it. At last he was pulled back to reality by his phone vibrating in his pocket. Startled, he pulled it out and checked the message.
“Security alert,” he muttered. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“But Miss Bennett…” That second, Eva received the same message on her phone. At least this would mean she wouldn’t have to explain her lateness to her boss. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“You go,” Mitchell replied after a second. “I’m staying.” He looked up the corridor in the wrong direction – away from the nearest exit. Eva realised straight away he was looking back towards the tech labs where his brother was.
