Fugitive

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Fugitive Page 20

by Chris Bradford


  ‘Sacrifice?’ interrupted Connor. ‘You sacrificed everyone in Buddyguard!’

  Charley stared at him, uncomprehending and shocked. ‘Connor … what are you talking about? Has something dreadful happened?’

  ‘Don’t play games with me,’ he snapped, extracting himself from her embrace and standing up. ‘We spoke only yesterday and you let slip about Zhen. I know you’re in league with Equilibrium.’

  ‘Equilibrium?’ Charley propped herself up on her hands, a hurt and baffled expression on her face. ‘I haven’t spoken to you in over a week! Not since that party with the fireworks. I thought you were too involved in your Mexican assignment, or else had lost interest in me … like Blake did.’

  She lowered her gaze. Although Connor had never met Blake, the recruit having left Buddyguard soon after he joined, he knew that Blake had been Charley’s boyfriend prior to her accident.

  ‘I wouldn’t have blamed you,’ Charley went on, her voice now a wounded whisper. ‘I realize I’ve been focused on my treatment and we haven’t seen each other for ages. But I don’t understand …’ She looked up again, fearful and confused. ‘What’s all this talk about betrayal? I haven’t done any–’

  ‘Connor, she’s playing you,’ said Amir. ‘Keeping you occupied until back-up arrives. There’s someone heading for your room. You have to –’

  The door swung open and a doctor strode in. He clocked Charley on the floor, then glared at Connor. ‘Who are you?’

  Connor drew the iStun from his pocket. The doctor rushed towards an alarm button on the wall. But Connor intercepted and jabbed the iStun into the man’s side. The doctor jerked, convulsed, then collapsed to the ground. Before he could recover from the debilitating shock, Connor struck him in the neck, momentarily cutting off the blood supply to his brain and knocking the man out cold.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ exclaimed Charley, her eyes wide and horrified as he now stripped the doctor of his lab coat and ID card. ‘He’s my consultant!’

  Snatching up the resistance bands, Connor began to bind the man’s wrists and feet. He glanced sidelong at Charley. ‘Well, if you didn’t speak to me the other day, then who did?’

  Charley ran both her hands through her hair, pulling at her roots, and shot him a desperate look. ‘Honestly, Connor, it wasn’t me. My phone’s not been working for the past week. Try it yourself if you don’t believe me.’ She hauled herself back into her chair. Tears stung her eyes. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages and you burst in here acting all crazy. I’ve no idea what’s going on, why you’re here, why you’re accusing me of betrayal … why you’ve just knocked my consultant out! Please, please explain what’s going on.’

  Connor finished tying up the doctor, then checked the corridor for more hostiles before closing the door. ‘This place – your spinal research centre – is a front for the headquarters of Equilibrium.’

  Charley was stunned into silence.

  ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know,’ said Connor.

  ‘You mean … the criminal organization that was involved with Viktor Malkov?’

  Connor nodded. ‘Him, and countless other corrupt people around the world. They’re responsible for multiple major terrorist attacks. And you revealed the location of Buddyguard headquarters to them, along with all our security details. Because of that, people are dead – Steve, Bugsy, and maybe soon the colonel and the rest of our friends – Buddyguard is no more, thanks to you!’

  ‘Steve and Bugsy are … dead?’ Charley’s hands gripped the bars of her chair, tightening until her knuckles were white. A shudder ran through her and she fell silent, staring at the floor for a long while.

  ‘Charley, you’re not fooling anyone. I’ve seen the video of you telling Equilibrium everything, even your access codes! Now drop the act.’

  Slowly, as if the strain of raising her head was almost too much to bear, she lifted her eyes to meet Connor’s. ‘I’ve … had bad dreams, nightmares where I thought I said stuff … secrets I knew I should never reveal … but I thought that was just the side-effects of the drugs the doctors were giving me. They made me hazy and my thoughts sluggish for a while. I couldn’t quite tell reality apart. Are you telling me I did say those things?’

  Connor nodded. If she’s acting, he thought, then she’s doing a convincing job.

  Tears welled in Charley’s eyes. ‘No … no … I can’t have …’ She stared pleadingly at Connor. ‘They must have drugged me or something. I didn’t mean to … I wouldn’t ever … I could never betray Buddyguard … or you! You have to believe me.’

  Connor looked her in the eyes and saw only truth: a shell-shocked realization that her nightmare confessions had been real, a searing grief and pain at the tragic fate of her friends and tutors, and a burning guilt and shame for failing to protect those she cared for. There was no way Charley could fake that reaction.

  Amir seemed to recognize it too. ‘It’s entirely plausible that she could’ve been given a truth drug.’

  Connor recalled the video: in hindsight, her eyes had appeared glassy and unfocused, her manner slightly delirious and odd. ‘But what about the phone call?’ he whispered into his throat mic. ‘That was Charley, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Amir replied. ‘Another of Equilibrium’s AI projects is voice cloning. Mr Grey could’ve used an imprint of her voice to talk to you. To try to manipulate you to hand over the drive.’

  Connor thought about their conversation. When had Charley ever been so self-centred that she only cared about herself? That wasn’t like her at all. It had to have been Mr Grey on the other end of the line.

  ‘Wh-who are you talking to?’ asked Charley, her voice hitching.

  ‘Amir,’ he replied.

  Charley bowed her head. ‘He must hate me too …’

  ‘He doesn’t hate you,’ said Connor, kneeling down beside her and wrapping his arms round her heaving shoulders as she wept. ‘Nor do I. We believe you. We know it’s not your fault. Equilibrium used you, took advantage of your disability and exploited your vulnerability to –’

  ‘Connor, more hostiles are headed your way,’ interrupted Amir.

  ‘Charley, grab your things,’ ordered Connor. ‘We have to get you and Colonel Black out of here. Now!’

  ‘You don’t need to push me,’ said Charley as Connor wheeled her towards the door. ‘I can do that myself.’

  The urgency of their predicament and her own resilience to tragedy had enabled Charley to regain her composure for their escape, and she was once more her assertive and commanding self. Connor felt reassured by this; it was one of the many aspects he admired about her.

  ‘I know, but I need to look like I’m doing something,’ he whispered, his voice muffled behind the surgical mask he now wore. Besides concealing his face, he’d donned the white lab coat and scrub cap that he’d taken from the hog-tied doctor. At a glance he looked like any of the other countless Equilibrium employees wandering the rat-run of the Hive.

  ‘Then walk beside me with the clipboard,’ instructed Charley, handing him the medical report from the end of her bed. ‘The techs here are used to seeing me get around by myself.’

  Having gathered only her essentials, Charley propelled her chair out of the room. Connor closed the door behind them just as two security guards rounded the corner. He tensed, readying himself to fight or flee. The two men approached and Charley greeted them brightly. ‘Nĭmén hǎo.’

  The guards grunted in response. One of them asked her a question in Chinese. Charley replied fluently, while Connor kept his head bent, as if buried in the medical notes. He felt the guards’ watchful eyes upon him, but didn’t risk looking up. They’d see the shape of his eyes and immediately know he wasn’t Chinese.

  Charley continued to talk with the two men. Not understanding a word, Connor started to sweat – were they interrogating her or passing the time of day? And when had she become so competent in Chinese?

  Then Charley bid the two men goodbye and glided off. Co
nnor kept pace at her side, playing the role of the preoccupied doctor. His status seemed to preclude any necessity to speak to the guards, for which he was grateful. They turned the corner and left the two security men behind.

  ‘What were they asking you?’ hissed Connor.

  ‘Where I was going,’ replied Charley. ‘I told them to the gymnasium. I’m there most days so it shouldn’t raise any suspicions.’

  ‘How come you speak Chinese so well?’ asked Connor.

  Charley glanced sideways at him. ‘I’ve had a lot of time on my hands in between surgery and physio. That, and the fact I used to speak Chinese with Kerry. You know, my friend who was abducted.’

  Connor nodded. She’d once told him all about Kerry, whose kidnapping was one of the reasons Charley had become a buddyguard in the first place.

  Amir’s voice came through on his earpiece. ‘Up one flight, then third door along the left-hand gallery.’

  ‘Got it,’ replied Connor, relaying the directions to Charley.

  ‘Follow me,’ said Charley. Familiar with the complex layout of the Hive, she passed the spiral staircase cornering the vast atrium and headed towards an air bridge that sloped steeply up to the next level. A couple of technicians passed them with no more than a brief acknowledgement.

  ‘Isn’t there a lift?’ asked Connor under his breath, glancing around for an easier route.

  ‘On the other side, but we don’t have time for that,’ replied Charley. ‘Besides, my chair’s powered – remember? And I’ve been doing a lot of physio.’

  Connor could tell by the definition in her arm muscles that she’d been training even harder than usual. She took the slope without even having to engage the electric motor. Her wheelchair had been provided by Colonel Black following the tragic end to her last assignment and had been specially designed for close-protection work and hostile environments. Aside from the rechargeable electric motor for an emergency getaway, the chair was equipped with carbon-fibre off-road wheels and run-flat tyres. There was a first-aid trauma kit and three flash-bang smoke grenades stored under the seat. The seat cushion itself, back panel and sides were constructed from Kevlar plates to protect the user against bullets. And, if that wasn’t enough, the armrests could be converted into tonfa batons for combat situations. The wheelchair was a virtual embodiment of Charley herself – tough, resourceful and a force to be reckoned with.

  They reached the next level unchallenged and made their way along to the third doorway. It looked no different from the rows of other nondescript white doors that lined each of the six levels.

  ‘Are you sure this is it?’ Connor whispered to Amir.

  ‘Matches the CCTV reference, plus there’s a double-layer of security,’ replied Amir. ‘I’ve killed the camera, but I’m having trouble overriding the lock. Keep getting forced out …’

  ‘Well, hurry up!’ urged Connor. ‘Someone’s coming.’

  He heard Amir’s furious typing over his earpiece at the same time as the voices grew louder from the direction of the air bridge. Charley exchanged an anxious glance with him. ‘I don’t usually come up here,’ she said. ‘Not sure how I’ll explain this …’

  Connor looked towards the bridge. The top of a woman’s head was just visible, along with two other people. She was turning their way –

  ‘Got it!’ exclaimed Amir. The coded lock turned green, Connor opened the door and both he and Charley bolted inside. But in their desperation to evade the woman they ran straight into a guard manning a security station within the room.

  Startled at their sudden entrance, he rose from his seat and barked a question in Chinese. Rolling closer, Charley replied in what sounded an apologetic tone. The guard clearly wasn’t convinced – he went for the radio on his hip. Charley whipped out the right armrest of her chair and smashed the metal bar across his wrist, forcing him to drop the radio. The guard now reached for his gun. Without a pause in her attack, Charley swung her baton into the man’s gut. The guard doubled over with a whoosh of pained breath. Then she brought the end down hard and fast on to the back of the man’s head. There was a skull-splitting thunk and the guard dropped in an unconscious heap to the floor.

  Connor stared in awe at Charley. ‘You’ve certainly perfected that move since you last tried it on Richie!’

  Charley reinserted the handle. ‘A girl’s got to let off steam somehow.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Amir’s voice in Connor’s ear. ‘I’d assumed the guard was Colonel Black on the Hive’s monitoring system. The colonel must be in the adjoining room. The temperature registers minus four degrees! That’s some air conditioning. It must be the reason the signal’s disrupted.’

  Through a one-way mirror, Connor and Charley could see a body shuddering on a narrow bench under the glare of a neon strip light. Amir unlocked the inner door to the cell. A blast of sub-zero air hit them. The room was as cold as a meat freezer, chilling them both to the bone as they went inside.

  ‘Colonel?’ asked Charley, her voice soft and full of concern.

  Colonel Black weakly raised his head. His face was a mess, his nose broken, one eye swollen and several teeth missing. A bandage caked in dried blood was wrapped around the bullet wound in his shoulder. Through his one good eye, he glared at Charley.

  ‘YOU! YOU TRAITOR!’ he spluttered, lunging for her like a wild dog.

  Connor leapt between them. Even though the colonel was enfeebled, he was a heavyset man and Connor had to use all his strength to hold him back. ‘NO! Charley’s no traitor. They drugged her.’

  Colonel Black snarled at him. ‘I wouldn’t believe anything you people say!’

  ‘It’s me, Colonel! It’s me!’ said Connor, removing his surgical mask.

  ‘Connor?’ he gasped, his one good eye flaring wide. Then all the remaining fight drained out of him and he slumped to his knees.

  Connor did his best to hold the colonel up.

  ‘What are you doing here, Connor?’ spat Colonel Black. ‘You swore to me you’d deliver the drive to Stella.’

  Taken aback by the colonel’s anger, Connor replied, ‘We’ve come to rescue you.’

  ‘I told you sacrifices have to be made,’ he growled. ‘You disobeyed a direct order!’

  ‘Getting the drive out of the country proved harder than anticipated,’ explained Connor. ‘Now come on – we haven’t much time!’

  But Colonel Black didn’t move. And Connor couldn’t lift him.

  ‘I’m not … worth rescuing, Connor,’ he rasped. ‘They’ve broken me. I don’t have the will or strength …’

  ‘Get up!’ ordered Connor. ‘You’re SAS. You’re trained to survive. To overcome.’

  Connor tried to yank the former soldier to his feet. But the colonel was as heavy and cumbersome as a sack of dirt. There was no life left in him. ‘Leave me … Connor. Get the drive to …’ He trailed off into semi-consciousness.

  Charley reached under her seat for her trauma kit. She pulled out an auto-injector and handed it to Connor. ‘Give this to him.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Connor.

  ‘Adrenalin. It should boost his system, at least enough to get him out of here.’

  Connor jabbed the injector into the colonel’s thigh and he came round with a start. His respiratory rate accelerated, clarity returned to his vision and strength seemed to seep into his muscles. The colonel sat up and gave Connor a lop-sided grin. ‘You just won’t let me die, will you?’

  ‘No man is left behind on the battlefield, right?’ said Connor, helping him to his feet.

  ‘You’re as stubborn as your father!’ The colonel laughed, shaking his head. ‘He once saved me; now it’s his son!’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  They staggered out of the bitterly cold cell together, Charley following close behind. The guard was groaning, slowly coming round.

  ‘He’ll raise the alarm if we don’t deal with him,’ warned Colonel Black.

  Connor leant the colonel against a wall for suppor
t, Charley staying at his side. Then, taking the guard under the arms, Connor dragged the dazed man into the cell. Panting with effort, he dumped him on the chilled floor. Locking the cell door behind him, Connor whispered into his throat mic, ‘Anyone in the corridor?’

  His earpiece was hit by a burst of static, then Amir’s panicked voice came over the airwaves. ‘My connection to the Hive’s been cut! Get out of there NOW!’

  Connor heard a pained groan and spun round. Colonel Black was doubled over. Connor watched in disbelief as Charley raised her arm to strike the colonel again.

  ‘NO!’ Connor cried, rushing forward to stop her. But he was too late. She knife-handed Colonel Black in the neck and knocked him senseless.

  Connor dived at Charley. Suddenly standing, her hand shot out at lightning speed and she caught him by the throat. Stopped dead in his tracks, to Connor her strength was unimaginable, overpowering him and bringing him to his knees.

  ‘No … Charley!’ he spluttered in despair, feeling his windpipe being crushed. Gasping for breath, he clawed at her outstretched arm. But it was no use. Her elbow was locked and her muscles tense as steel. The pressure only increased. As his strength leeched away, Connor stared pleadingly at Charley, unable to fathom her treachery even as tears spilt down her cheeks. Then darkness seeped into his vision and he slipped from consciousness …

  ‘The bait worked,’ announced Mr Grey, presenting Connor and Colonel Black to the Director. The colonel swayed on his feet, head bowed, the effects of the adrenalin having worn off. Connor himself still felt light-headed, his throat bruised and sore, Charley’s fingernails having gouged deep marks into his neck.

  The Director sat ramrod-straight and regal behind a metal-framed desk, its feet like talons and its dark polished surface like a shield. Her personal office occupied the entire upper floor of the 1933 Building. The heart of the Hive, the immense chamber was built upon a reinforced glass floor, giving the illusion that the room floated over the plunging central atrium below. Through the tinted glazing at his feet Connor could see white-coated lab technicians scurrying around like worker bees, dutifully carrying out the bidding of their queen. Above his head a large round skylight illuminated the room, spotlighting him and the colonel as they were held at gunpoint by Mr Grey and three armed guards. The roof itself was supported by an intricate lattice of steel beams, criss-crossing the ceiling and reinforcing the unsettling impression of the Director as a black widow spider at the centre of an insidious web.

 

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