by Joe Craig
“Relieved?” gasped Coates.
“Yes,” came the sharp reply. “If she hadn’t, I would have assumed that you were working with him.” She thrust a thumb in the direction of the crumpled pile of limbs that William Lee had been reduced to. The breath barely wheezed from his lips.
“Who put you up to this?!” Miss Bennett snapped, shoving a foot into William Lee’s ribs. The man’s head lolled backwards, his eyes rolling without any control. “Who sent you?!” Again there was no reaction.
“What did you do to him?” Coates whispered.
“It was self-defence,” came a new voice from the door. Mitchell turned to see that Eva had slipped into the room behind her boss. “Miss Bennett was attacked,” she said, her voice trembling. “And then… then…”
“Thank you, Eva,” Miss Bennett cut in, calmly. “What she’s trying to say is that he didn’t stand a chance.” She narrowed her eyes. “Try that one.” She ordered Mitchell to go to the masked woman slumped against the wall. “Bring her round. Find out who sent her.”
Mitchell grabbed the woman’s shoulders and dragged her closer to the light. He could feel his programming thudding through his veins, setting his thoughts racing. This woman’s shoulders weren’t big. This was no soldier. He propped her up against the Prime Minister’s desk and slowly peeled the balaclava from her face, keeping his guard up, ready for anything, in case the woman burst into life and attempted a counterattack.
She didn’t. She had been knocked unconscious and was just beginning to come round now as Mitchell’s hands clasped her head. But when her face was revealed, the effect on the room was greater than any attack. Eva let out a gasp and seemed to lose her breath for a few seconds. The Prime Minister staggered backwards and supported himself against the filing cabinet.
“Where am I?” said the woman on the floor. “What’s…?” She looked round, squinting in the dim light to see the faces of the people in the room. After a few seconds, she saw the Prime Minister. “Ian…” she said, half-smiling at first, as if she’d seen a friend. Then confusion attacked her again. She frowned and looked round, frantic. “How did I get here?” She stared at Eva. “You,” she said intently. “I know you too.”
Eva tried to speak, but there wasn’t enough air in her lungs. At last, the Prime Minister broke the silence.
“Olivia,” he said gently. “We need to know who sent you here.”
The woman looked up at him, her eyes wide, fearful, and her lips trembling.
“But where is this?” she whispered. “And where’s Felix? Where’s my son?”
Jimmy threw himself over the balcony, keeping his hands on the rail. He clambered down like a spider, shifting his weight with precision and speed, then swung towards Saffron. Together, they bundled to the floor of the next level down and Jimmy propped her up against the balcony rail.
“I’m OK,” Saffron said, obviously trying to sound stronger than she felt. “I’ve been shot worse than this before, remember? This one’s just a graze.” She clutched her shoulder, where red was blooming over her hands. It flashed in the strobe light, but so did the determination in her eyes. “Get to Chris,” she whispered intently. “There’s only one shooter and Chris is the target. I’ll get to the basement. Your mum and the others will take me from there.”
“They’re here?”
Saffron nodded. “They sent a text. They’ll patch me up.”
“Yeah,” said Jimmy. “Felix is obviously a genius at first aid.” He forced himself to smile, and was flooded with relief when Saffron smiled back.
“Go!” Saffron ordered, and Jimmy’s body responded. He circled the balcony, peering into the darkness, learning the rhythm of the strobe flashes – when to run, when to look.
He spotted Viggo on the level below, being carried on either side by Capita guards, unable to fight. Jimmy ducked his head and sprinted round to the point exactly above them. Then, without even hesitating, he launched himself over the side. He caught the bottom edge of the balcony behind his back, his legs extended in a pike position like an Olympic gymnast on monkey bars, then swung down. A surge of power in his hips directed Jimmy’s fall. He was so fast neither guard saw him coming. It all happened in the single breath between flashes of the strobe light. The back of Jimmy’s heels connected perfectly with the collar bone of one of the guards, who staggered, tripped and fell.
Jimmy twisted in the air and used the body of the guard as his own bouncy castle to get back on his feet. The spirit of La Savate combat was surging through him again. He took down the second man with a coup de pied bas – a low kick with the arch of his foot that swept his opponent away at the knee. The guard crumpled and fell on top of his partner.
Now that he was unsupported, Viggo swayed, tried to walk, and fell forward. Jimmy caught his friend on the back and heaved him away from the guards, dragging him round the curve of the balcony. He could feel the warmth of the blood from Viggo’s gut spreading over his own back. When they were out of sight of the guards, Jimmy brought his friend to the floor to look at the wound. Straight away, he saw the man was more badly hurt than he’d realised. He’d been shot twice.
“Jimmy…” gasped Viggo.
Jimmy was busy trying to work out if there was anything he could do to stem the bleeding. I should have gone for the shooter, he thought. He couldn’t help reliving that split second – his moment of hesitation. This is where the extra bullet landed! I should have followed my instinct! Would that indecision cost Viggo his life? He might have had the strength to recover from one bullet, but two…
“Jimmy…” Viggo whispered again, more insistent this time, forcing his voice out. There wasn’t time to say any more. Without looking round, Jimmy felt the heavy steps of two huge guards sprinting towards them. He launched a back kick at head height – with perfect timing. Even through the sole of his shoe, he felt the connection with the guard’s teeth. Then he threw back his other leg, planting his foot in the stomach of the second guard.
Viggo struggled to his feet, swaying and clutching the wound in his belly. But instead of joining the fight, he twisted like a leaf in the wind and slumped over the balcony railing. Jimmy grabbed him with both hands. He held him firmly in his grip to stop him from falling. That’s when Jimmy saw it.
A flash lit up the hall as the last of the clubbers dashed out of the doors. Left alone on the dance floor was a single figure: a masked man in a long grey coat, with a rifle in his hand. One glimpse of Jimmy and Viggo was enough. He started to take aim, but Jimmy’s reactions kicked in before the shooter could raise his rifle.
In one movement, Jimmy hauled Viggo down behind the protection of a pillar and threw himself over the side, into the air. It was a five-floor drop, but he had no option. He pulled his knees into a tuck position and spun over himself. For seven seconds it felt like he was just revolving in space. The black floor of the club loomed towards him, but Jimmy’s inner power was deeper and darker. He locked his fists together and brought them down perfectly on the back of the shooter’s neck. The landing knocked the breath from Jimmy’s chest, but the man underneath him cushioned his fall.
Immediately Jimmy tossed the rifle away. He turned the shooter over on to his back, with no doubt that the precision blow to the nerves in the back of his enemy’s neck had knocked him unconscious. Jimmy planted his knees on the man’s shoulders and peeled the balaclava off his face.
The next strobe flash seemed to last forever. The image of the man’s face struck Jimmy’s eyes, but his brain refused to understand it. I’m hallucinating, Jimmy thought. This can’t be true. But he kept looking and the face didn’t change. The man was unconscious, his eyes open – big, brown discs that Jimmy was used to seeing full of kindness. The same silver stubble that Jimmy knew flecked the man’s cheeks. His face was thinner than the last time Jimmy had seen it, but there was still the hint of bagginess around his jaw. Jimmy’s brain screamed out with confusion: why is Neil Muzbeke here? Why is Felix’s father trying to kill Christopher Viggo?
Eva brought in a tray of tea, the shake in her hands causing the mugs to rattle against each other. Miss Bennett was issuing orders down the phone, recalling an NJ7 force to HQ and deploying others to strategic locations around the country, just in case the battle wasn’t yet over. Ian Coates was slumped behind his desk, holding his head, while Mitchell was helping Olivia Muzbeke to an armchair. The pain in her ribs was obvious, but so was her genuine confusion.
“Get some answers out of her,” Miss Bennett said firmly to nobody in particular.
“What do you want us to do?” Ian Coates sighed. “She doesn’t remember anything!”
“I’m not suggesting we beat it out of her,” Miss Bennett muttered, slamming the phone down. “She obviously knows nothing – consciously.”
“I don’t… I d-don’t…” Olivia Muzbeke’s voice quivered and her hands were so unsteady that when Eva gave her the mug of tea, some of the hot brown liquid splashed over the sides. “I remember flashes…” Olivia muttered. “Just images, really… an old man…”
“What’s the last thing you do remember?” Miss Bennett asked.
Olivia’s eyes lit up. “Felix,” she announced. “I remember seeing Felix. We were in New York. Yes, that’s right – I remember being in America.”
“The Americans,” growled Miss Bennett. “That much is obvious. I knew we couldn’t trust them! They just couldn’t let Britain run itself, could they?!”
“What about him?” asked Mitchell, nodding towards William Lee. “He hasn’t been anywhere near America.”
“The CIA has tentacles everywhere,” Miss Bennett replied. “They must have reached him when they saw he had no more authority here. Or he went to them. Either way, it doesn’t matter.”
“The satellite surveillance,” Eva gasped. “Mr Lee was meant to be fixing it, but…”
“But he was the one jamming it.” Miss Bennett nodded with a grim expression on her face. “He needed to create the surveillance blackouts so the CIA could send in their assassin.”
“Assassin?” gasped Olivia Muzbeke, obviously fighting back tears. “Did I…?”
“It’s OK,” said Eva gently. She crouched down at Olivia’s side and held her hands, clasping them round the warmth of the mug. Eva looked up into the woman’s eyes and nearly burst into tears herself. She desperately wanted to tell her everything she knew about Felix. He’s OK, Eva shouted in her head. He’s OK! He’s out there with Jimmy and they miss you and they’re OK!
“Try to bring him round again,” said Miss Bennett to Mitchell, indicating William Lee. “We need to know what he’s done to the surveillance system so we can fix it.”
“And find out whether there’s anybody else…” added Ian Coates. He jumped up and shifted from foot to foot, peeping through the curtains. “There could be any number of them lurking out there… stars and stripes on the brain…”
Mitchell knelt down by William Lee. Mitchell let his arms be guided by the force inside him. In the chaos of tonight’s events, it was a relief to feel that control taking hold. His hands locked round William Lee’s left ankle. Mitchell didn’t question it. He felt his fingers digging into a point just above Lee’s Achilles’ tendon. Pressure point, he heard himself thinking.
Suddenly Lee gasped for air. His eyes shot open and his body bucked. In a flash, he was sitting up, looking around at Miss Bennett, Ian Coates and the others. He looked like a startled rat cornered by hounds but, thanks to Mitchell, at least he was fully alert.
“Right then,” said Miss Bennett with a sigh. “Anything you want to tell us?” She perched on the edge of Ian Coates’ desk and smiled. William Lee said nothing, he just looked around, his terror obvious. “We know about the Americans already,” Miss Bennett added, watching Lee’s reaction carefully.
“You know…?” Lee gasped.
Miss Bennett’s lips stretched into a bright-red sneer. That moment, her mobile phone buzzed. She checked the message and turned to Mitchell.
“Get to the labs, Mitchell,” she ordered. “Some of the technicians are back. They’re working on the satellites. As soon as they have anything, track Christopher Viggo from his last known location. Find out where he’s hiding out now. Go after him. After this attack we’ll have even more public support.”
“You’ll blame Viggo for this?” asked Coates.
“Of course,” Miss Bennett explained. “It gives us the perfect justification for taking him out. Mitchell, go to it.”
Eva watched Mitchell’s chest swell. He stood tall, his chin held high. She was amazed at how quickly his demeanour shifted from muddled boy to trained military expert. But then she saw him hesitate. Her heart leapt. Was he having second thoughts? His mouth opened and Eva felt a surge of anticipation. She was sure Mitchell was going to say something about his brother. Or maybe he was simply going to refuse to go. Or perhaps…
“Pass on anything you get out of him,” Mitchell announced in a gruff tone. He stuck out his chin in the direction of William Lee, then hurried from the room. Eva felt like a part of her spirit had disintegrated. Her eyes remained on the door long after Mitchell had passed through it. Even while Miss Bennett continued questioning William Lee, Eva couldn’t help trying to puzzle out what was happening inside Mitchell’s head. Her thoughts were only broken when Ian Coates’ voice cut into Miss Bennett’s interrogation.
“How did they do it!?” he roared.
“Calm down, Ian,” said Miss Bennett. “The question of the satellite surveillance is more urgent.”
“No!” Coates barked, running his hands frantically through his hair and gesticulating at Olivia. “I need to know! She was a friend!”
“Friends mean nothing,” said Miss Bennett, holding up a hand to try to stop him. She turned back to Lee. “Ignore him. Tell me exactly what the tech team needs to do to unlock the surveillance satellites, and precisely what data the Americans had access to.”
Lee’s breathing was hard and fast. He was still on his knees, but Eva could see the panic growing through his body just in the way he held himself. There was nothing he could do. Miss Bennett didn’t even have to threaten him. The knowledge of what she was capable of and what she had done to NJ7’s enemies in the past – that fear was enough to drive any man over the edge.
Terror seemed to creep through Lee’s entire body. He erupted into a flurry of words. Miss Bennett leaned back, smiling. Was she even listening, Eva wondered, or was she merely enjoying the satisfaction of having won again, and so easily? After a couple of seconds, Miss Bennett tapped a couple of keys on her phone and held the handset out to catch every word of William Lee’s explanation.
Most of it Eva didn’t understand, but she recognised enough of the technical language to know that in minutes NJ7 would have their full satellite surveillance capability back online, and the Americans would be locked out of the system. While Lee rattled on, Eva watched Ian Coates. The man was standing just behind the armchair where Olivia Muzbeke still sat, shaking, lost in her own thoughts.
“How is it possible?” Coates whispered, to nobody in particular. “A normal, healthy, kind human being transformed into… into…”
“It’s brainwashing,” announced Miss Bennett suddenly. Lee had finished his explanation and Miss Bennett turned her attention to Olivia Muzbeke.
“Brainwashing?!” Coates shouted. “What do you mean?!”
“If I have to tell you to calm down one more time,” Miss Bennett said firmly, “I’ll send you outside to sort yourself out.”
Eva shuddered, remembering that this woman had once been posted undercover as a school teacher.
“I’m calm,” said Coates. “I just need to know how many brainwashed zombie killers might be out there.” He gripped the curtain, pulling it in front of himself slightly, almost as if he could hide.
“It isn’t a very advanced technique,” Miss Bennett explained, dismissively. “In fact it’s quite old-fashioned. People have been trying it for over a century.”
“I know people h
ave tried it,” Coates echoed. “It looks like they’ve succeeded!”
“We succeeded,” said Miss Bennett.
“What?”
“It’s an NJ7 technique. A very old one. It was replaced by the genetically designed assassins. But before Dr Higgins developed that concept, he perfected the art of brainwashing civilians to become unknowing assassins.”
“It was Dr Higgins?” Coates asked.
“Yes, and it sounds like the Americans have got him now.” She turned to Olivia Muzbeke. “That old man you remember – that must have been him.”
Ian Coates stared at Miss Bennett in disbelief. “But if Dr Higgins developed this… technique… why can’t we do this?”
Miss Bennett shrugged. “We can do it, we have done it and…” She paused. “…we are doing it.”
“We are doing it?!” Coates charged up to Miss Bennett and gripped her shoulders, pulling her towards him. Eva felt a chill tearing up her spine – a part of her knew what Miss Bennett was going to say – but she fought it back, refusing to acknowledge the idea. Then Miss Bennett confirmed it.
“Mitchell has a brother,” she smiled. Eva lost her breath. Her mug of tea tipped over in her hands and flooded on to the carpet. Nobody noticed. “If I give the word,” Miss Bennett went on, “we could have another assassin alongside Mitchell in five minutes. We just need to specify the target and beam it straight into Lenny Glenthorne’s brain with a laser.”
“Send him!” Ian Coates begged, suddenly invigorated. “I want Viggo out of the way for good. He mustn’t have the chance to gather support again. Send a whole NJ7 division!”
“Where do you want me to get a division from?” Miss Bennett asked. “Every agent was sent to who-knows-where by that CIA mole!” She jerked a finger at Lee without looking at him. “Even the security for this building is missing! Mitchell is enough. He’s a precision weapon.”
“He’s failed before.”
“Every time he fails, he learns, but I agree he needs support. I’ll send—”
