The Cut Out

by Jack Heath

  He backed away, stepping out of the shadows—

  And Silverback’s expression changed.

  ‘Troy?’ he said.

  Fero only hesitated for a split second. ‘Gear,’ he said, in Besmari. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I caught the lift down after your men tried to gas me upstairs.’ He held up his palms. ‘No offence taken.’

  ‘I meant,’ Silverback said, ‘what are you doing in Melzen?’

  ‘Vartaniev sent me.’ Fero walked towards Silverback, struggling to swallow his terror. ‘He wanted me to warn you.’

  Silverback’s eyes narrowed. ‘About what?’

  The other terrorist – a blond man in full body armour with half of one ear missing – was coming closer, eyeing Fero cautiously.

  ‘The operation has been compromised,’ Fero said. ‘Someone on your team . . . isn’t on your team.’

  Silverback and the other terrorist looked at each other.

  ‘I heard you were locked up in Velechnya,’ Silverback said finally.

  ‘No prison can keep me. You know that.’ Fero looked at the train. ‘Do you have a safe way out of here?’

  Silverback stared at him with bloodshot eyes. ‘You’re saying we have to abort this mission?’

  Fero held up his hands. ‘I’m not saying that. Vartaniev is. He wants you back home.’

  ‘Eruz.’ Silverback’s radio crackled. ‘I just found Orren – someone tied him up.’

  Fero and Silverback stared at one another for a moment.

  ‘Was that you?’ Silverback asked.

  If Fero denied it, the terrorists would go looking for Cormanenko.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know he was one of yours. I thought he was a Librarian.’

  ‘You thought there was a Librarian in the building, and you didn’t mention it?’

  ‘I’d already dealt with him. It didn’t seem important.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Okay,’ Silverback said.

  Then he picked up the vending machine and threw it at Fero.

  Fero was so astonished by the sudden feat of strength that he almost didn’t have time to duck. The vending machine sailed over his head, two hundred kilograms of steel, before crashing against the floor behind him. Cans of soft drink spilled out across the corridor.

  Fero scrambled to his feet as Silverback clomped towards him.

  ‘You traitor!’ Silverback roared. ‘What did they offer you?’

  Fero picked up a can and hurled it at him with all his strength. It was about to strike Silverback’s nose when he snatched it out of the air and crushed it in his hand. Cola spewed out of the twisted metal as he tossed it aside.

  ‘Was it worth it? You backstabbing little—’

  A shadow behind Silverback came to life, and grabbed him from behind. A gun pressed against his temple.

  ‘You’re strong,’ Cormanenko said. ‘But are you bulletproof?’

  ‘Frankenstein,’ Silverback hissed.

  ‘Good, you remember me. Tell your friend to put his gun down.’

  The blond terrorist had his rifle pointed at Fero. He didn’t move. Neither did Silverback.

  ‘I know you’re willing to kill for your country,’ Cormanenko said. ‘But are you willing to die for it?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Very well,’ Cormanenko said. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

  ‘Put it down,’ Silverback told the other terrorist.

  The blond man put his gun on the ground.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Cormanenko said. ‘Cuckoo, throw his gun onto the tracks.’

  Fero walked over to the other terrorist, picked up the rifle, and hurled it away. It clattered against the train and fell between the platform and the carriage.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ Cormanenko called.

  Fero looked around. Nobody else was on the platform.

  ‘Frankenstein,’ Silverback’s radio said.

  Everyone froze.

  ‘I have a nice shot lined up,’ the radio said. ‘If you want your brain to stay in your head, you should let Eruz go.’

  Fero peered into the darkness. On the distant stairs, he could see the outline of a person. Crouched on a step with a long-barrelled rifle.

  Three Tellers against two Librarians. One of the Tellers was a giant. It didn’t look good.

  ‘You’re smarter than the others,’ Cormanenko called. ‘How about we make a deal?’

  ‘You have five seconds to comply,’ the radio replied.

  ‘Before you shoot me in the back, you should take a look at the object in my hand.’

  Cormanenko held up the grenade she had showed Fero earlier. The pin was gone, and she was holding down the trigger lever.

  There was silence.

  ‘If I let go,’ she said, ‘we all die.’

  Fero backed away, towards the train platform. Maybe he could get to the gun, and shift the odds back into their favour.

  ‘Throw your rifle out here,’ Cormanenko called.

  ‘Not until you disarm the grenade,’ the radio said.

  ‘This isn’t a negotiation—’

  Silverback whirled around, snatched the pistol out of Cormanenko’s hand and pointed it at her. It happened as fast as a magic trick. Fero gasped.

  ‘Disarm the grenade,’ Silverback growled.

  ‘Not a chance,’ Cormanenko said.

  And behind Fero, the train started to move.

  He watched in horror as it accelerated towards the tunnel. The terrorists must have already finished drilling through the blockage and put the train on autopilot. Now the three bombs were headed into the subway, where they would kill millions of people.

  We’ve failed, Fero realised. And now we’re going to die.

  ‘You’ve lost, Frankenstein,’ Silverback said. ‘Disarm the grenade.’

  Cormanenko ignored him. She stood with her spine ramrod straight and one hand behind her back, like a fencing champion. She looked at Fero.

  ‘Catch that train,’ she said.

  Then she let go of the trigger.

  ‘No!’ Fero screamed, and then his voice was lost in the deafening roar. A white flash shot out from Cormanenko’s body, enveloping Silverback and the other terrorist. A flurry of gunshots filled the air, and a storm of smoke roiled outwards across the ceiling.

  Fero scrambled away from the spreading flames and tumbled backwards onto the train tracks just as the train vanished into the tunnel.

  He could hear Silverback screeching as the fire consumed him. The other terrorist was screaming too – but Cormanenko never made a sound.

  She’s dead, Fero thought. It’s just me now. Me, three bombs, three train carriages rattling away . . .

  And my spring-loaded shoes.

  Catch that train.

  Fero launched himself into the blackness of the tunnel.

  THE PAYLOAD

  It was terrifying, sprinting through the darkness. At any moment he might misstep, slip over and break his neck. Or fall into one of the bottomless pits between the tracks.

  But he could hear the train chugging up ahead. It was accelerating. He didn’t dare slow down.

  The clattering of the wheels boomed around the tunnel. The ballast crackled like billiard balls beneath his pounding feet.

  He couldn’t get the look on Cormanenko’s face out of his head. He had seen no fear, no anger. She hadn’t blamed him for bringing her back here.

  He had seen only trust. She had died believing that he could do this.

  He wasn’t going to let her down.

  Fero was getting closer to the train. If he jumped, maybe he could reach the rear doorstep.

  Come on, Fero, he thought. Go, go, go!

  He jumped.

  For a horrifying second he thought he wasn’t going to make it. His right hand missed the doorstep. But just as he started to plummet towards the deadly gravel his left hand caught the coupler – a heavy cl
amp designed to pull other carriages along. Suddenly he was being sucked down the tunnel after the train.

  It was only two days ago that he’d been dragged through this very subway by another speeding train. But this time was different. This time, he couldn’t just hang on. He had to climb up, get inside and defuse the first bomb before the carriage was detached.

  He grabbed the doorstep with his other hand and hauled himself upwards. The ballast bruised his flesh and split the skin on his ankles, but he made it up onto the step and forced the doors apart.

  Time had worn away the gloss inside the train carriage. The walls and ceiling had yellowed like an old photograph. Every bend in the track shook dust off the seats.

  The bomb was easy to find. A backpack sat in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by bundles of gas canisters. The timer on top read 08:49. As he watched, it clicked over to 08:48. Then 08:47.

  ‘Okay,’ Fero muttered. ‘Okay.’

  Sloth hadn’t taught him this. Everything he knew about defusing explosives Cormanenko had told him in the car on the way here. Fero had never seen a bomb in real life.

  He gently lifted the timer, looking for the detonator. There it was – a round disc, connected to the payload by two prongs and a red wire. Exactly as Cormanenko had described.

  ‘Break the alarm circuit,’ he murmured. He took out the cutters that Cormanenko had given him and poised them over the red wire. The blood was roaring in his ears.

  Snick.

  The wire split into two. Nothing exploded. But the timer kept counting down.

  Fero pinched the detonator, and slowly pulled out the prongs. The timer froze at 08:26.

  He let the air out of his lungs. That was surprisingly easy. Maybe in a past life he had been in a bomb squad.

  It seemed dangerous to leave the detonator in the carriage with the backpack. He slipped it into his pocket, hoping Cormanenko was right that it was harmless without the payload.

  One down, he thought. Two to go.

  He ran over to the door that led to the next carriage and pushed the button to open it.

  The button didn’t work.

  Fero pushed it again, but the doors didn’t open. He couldn’t get through to the next carriage.

  He tried to haul the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. The terrorists had been coming and going, so the door couldn’t be rusted closed. And they were all behind him, so it must have been locked from this side. Unless they had moved along the platform rather than through the carriages.

  Fero pressed his face against the greasy glass. He could see the backpack in the next carriage. He couldn’t see the timer, but he doubted that he had very long.

  The train slowed down. Towzhik Station, he guessed. Where the first bomb was supposed to go off.

  A fire extinguisher hung from the wall. Fero wrenched it off the hook and slammed the butt against the window. Cracks spiderwebbed across the glass. A second strike broke it. Fero reached through and yanked the handle.

  The door slid aside. Fero took the fire extinguisher onto the platform between the two carriages, but the second door opened without incident. He found himself in the second carriage, looking at the second bomb.

  The timer read 06:19.

  It felt like about two minutes since he had defused the last bomb. Perhaps they had all been set to blow at the same time. If so, Fero had six minutes and nineteen – no, eleven seconds now – to defuse not just this bomb, but also the next one.

  The train stopped. Fero heard a clunk as the automatic coupler between the carriages popped open. When the train started moving again the rear carriage was left behind.

  Towzhik Station rolled past the windows – empty. No trains, no people. A paper cup lay alone on the platform, bleeding coffee.

  There was no time to wonder where everyone had gone. Fero snipped the red wire, and pulled the detonator out of the payload.

  The timer didn’t stop.

  Fero stared at it. Was something wrong with the timer? Or was the bomb still counting down?

  05:56.

  05:55.

  05:54.

  He picked up the backpack. He was pretty sure it couldn’t detonate without a detonator. But if it did, it would do much less damage on the tracks in between stations, away from the gas canisters.

  He ran to the rear door and pulled it open. The noise was deafening. The tracks whirled past beneath his feet.

  He tossed the backpack out, and then threw himself onto the floor of the carriage, pressing his hands over his ears.

  Nothing happened. The payload must be shock resistant.

  The train slowed down, and stopped. Fero saw the empty platform outside the windows, and a sign – Stolkalny Station. Where he’d resisted arrest two nights ago. Where bomb number two was supposed to go off—

  Clank. His carriage was being left behind.

  Fero sprinted towards the door and slammed his hand down on the button. The door didn’t open. Through the glass, he could see the remaining carriage pulling away, headed for Coralsk. Where it would kill his parents, Irla, and everyone else in those towering apartment buildings.

  He slammed the fire extinguisher against the window. The glass smashed on the first try, and he fumbled with the handle.

  The door popped open, and Fero tumbled down into the blackness of the tunnel. He hit the tracks running, desperate to catch the last carriage.

  The countdown was running in his head. 03:10. 03:09. 03:08.

  The train wasn’t yet moving quite as fast as him, but it was accelerating. He bounded forward, closing the gap.

  Catch that train.

  I’m doing it! he thought. Come on!

  He jumped, sprang off the coupler and landed on the rear doorstep.

  Three minutes, he thought. Three minutes to defuse the last bomb. I can do this.

  He pulled the door open. The backpack sat in the same place as the others. The timer read 02:56.

  But Fero wasn’t alone in the last carriage.

  A sixth terrorist stood beside the backpack, pointing a gun at him. Fero was so distracted by the gun that it took him a moment to recognise the face.

  ‘Sloth?’

  THE DOUBLE AGENT

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Sloth demanded.

  Fero boggled at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Lesson three,’ Sloth said. ‘Nothing is what it seems.’

  Fero took a step towards the backpack. Sloth’s finger moved from the trigger guard to the trigger.

  ‘Stay back,’ Sloth said. ‘You don’t know it, but we’re on the same side.’

  The sleepy, kind look was gone from his eyes. He was alert and stern, dressed in the same combat gear as the other terrorists. Somehow he held the pistol perfectly still, despite the rocking of the train.

  Fero couldn’t comprehend what he was looking at. A Librarian, standing over a bomb that was about to kill a million Kamauans.

  ‘I don’t have time to explain this to you,’ Sloth said. ‘Get away from that backpack.’

  ‘You’ve been a Teller all along,’ Fero said.

  ‘Not all along. It’s just the way things turned out.’

  The timer stood at 02:12.

  ‘They’re going to gas a whole city,’ Fero said. ‘You can’t let them do this.’

  ‘If they don’t, the Kamauans will keep killing Besmaris, who will keep killing Kamauans, who will keep killing Besmaris. There’s no right or wrong here, kid. Both sides kill – but Besmar pays better.’

  Fero gaped at him. ‘You’re going to kill a million people for money?’

  He wasn’t sure why that was worse than killing a million people for any other reason, but somehow it was.

  The train started to slow down. The automatic brakes hissed. The engine groaned as it wound down.

  ‘This is Garden Station,’ Sloth said. ‘The last stop before this train terminates at Coralsk. I’m getting off here. Are you coming with me, or do I have to shoot you?’

  Fero looked at
the gun. The bomb. The approaching lights of Garden Station.

  ‘Answer one question and I’ll come with you,’ Fero said.

  Sloth’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘How did you make sure there were no other trains on the line?’ Fero asked.

  ‘That’s your question?’

  Fero nodded.

  ‘We announced that we were going to bomb the subway,’ Sloth said. ‘The trains all fled up to the other end of the tracks, clearing the way.’

  Fero looked out the window over Sloth’s shoulder.

  ‘Then what’s that one doing here?’ he asked.

  Sloth was faster than he was smart. He turned to look—

  And Fero ripped the pin out of the fire extinguisher. He squeezed the handle.

  Sloth vanished into a flood of mist. Fero ducked just in time – two shots buzzed over his head and clanged against the walls of the carriage. He grabbed the backpack and sprinted towards the rear door.

  Sloth’s footsteps clomped towards him. ‘Get back here!’

  Fero jumped out of the train, hurtling over the speeding gravel, and landed on one spring-soled shoe. It launched him into the air and he nearly hit his head on the roof before falling back onto the tracks.

  He had planned to stop here and defuse the bomb – but Sloth leapt out onto the tracks and raced after him, his eyes lit up with mad rage.

  Fero sprinted away down the subway tunnel, the bomb bouncing on his back. When he last looked at the timer, it had read 00:48. Could he really lose Sloth and disarm it that quickly?

  He could hear the clack of Sloth’s shoes behind him. They must be spring-soled too.

  ‘It’s about to go off!’ Fero yelled. ‘If you keep chasing me, you’ll die!’

  A gunshot cracked the air. He’s gone crazy! Fero thought. He’s giving up his life to kill me!

  Or perhaps Sloth intended to kill Fero, defuse the bomb himself, take it back up the tunnel to Coralsk Station, and restart the timer. That made more sense – but Fero wouldn’t be any less dead.

  Fero dashed up the tunnel, weaving from side to side to avoid the bullets. He saw one of the pits, almost too late to avoid falling into it and breaking his neck. There would be more hazards up ahead. But he couldn’t afford to slow down.