“I don’t even like my brother,” Ro protested.
Mary smiled. “Once, I might have given you the chance to prove that. Put a shooter in your hand, and set it all up nice. But we’re doing things differently these days. We’re not ready to go to war with them – not just yet.” She leaned close. “But before I decide, I want to know whether you’re a grass.”
“I’m not an informer,” Ro said.
“Billy?”
Billy hit Ro with a stiff thump to the ribs. She was ready for it and turned with the blow. Her own fist snapped out and he grunted as it struck home. Mary retreated as the two of them circled one another. “What was you talking about with Danny last night then, Rosemary?” Billy asked, raising his fists.
“I told you, our mum.” Ro hunched forward, trying to make herself a smaller target, her own hands ready. Billy came in quick, with complicated salvo. Ro swatted one aside and took the other on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to go after him. That was what he wanted. When he realised she hadn’t taken the bait, he pressed in on her.
She retreated, wondering if she could make it to the door. Over Billy’s shoulder, she saw Mary watching – smiling. The Godfreys were watching as well, eyes narrowed. She hoped they stayed out of it. “Are you sure?” Billy said, throwing another punch.
Ro avoided it, but only just. “I’m no bloody grass!”
Billy hit her twice in the time it took her to speak. She stumbled but didn’t fall. Mad now, she responded in kind, and her fist caught him on the side of the cheek. He staggered, blinking, and she bent and loosed a kick. His hands snapped shut around her ankle, and suddenly she was flying. She hit the desk, the edge digging into her back, and went down. Billy was on her before she could get up.
He was faster than he looked, and stronger. Ro tried to shove him back, but he was having none of it. Blows rained down, and the world started getting blurry. She took it all, and when he gave her an opening, she went for it with every bit of strength left to her. She caught him in the kidney twice. He rolled off her, and she kicked him in the hip. He fell onto his back, laughing, and Ro straddled him in an instant, fists raised.
She froze as something sharp pricked her throat. “That’s enough of that,” Mary said. She held her knife to Ro’s neck. “What do you think, Billy?”
Billy scrambled to his feet, grinning. “She’s a bloody terrible liar, but she throws a good punch.” He rubbed his hip. “For what’s worth, I don’t think she’s anybody’s snout.”
Mary chuckled. “Can’t trust her, though. Too much at stake.” She gestured for Ro to rise and looked at her. “So what do we do with you then, luv?”
Danny climbed out of the unmarked car, one hand on his sidearm. He was out of uniform, but wearing his flak vest under his jacket. Faulkner, coming around the front of the car, was dressed the same. The warehouse was a square lump against the dark sky. Floodlights popped on as they got in range of the motion sensors.
Cameras mounted along the walls whirred and pivoted, following them. Danny eyed them warily. “They’re watching us, Sarge.”
“I’d be disappointed if they weren’t,” Faulkner said. “Probably recording us, too.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“No. Does it bother you, Danny?”
“A bit, Sarge.”
Faulkner paused. “If I were you, Danny, I’d be more worried about things you can control. Now stiffen that lip, and raise the flag. We’re heading into enemy territory and I’d prefer you didn’t embarrass me.”
Danny fell silent. When he’d gotten back to base the day before, Faulkner had been out hunting for someone named Holden – a tech who’d gone rogue, according to Hattersley. At first, there hadn’t seemed to be any connection at all to the dead white van man, Wilson. Then Faulkner had called Danny into his office, and now here they were, outside a Kelley-owned warehouse, acting on an anonymous tip. Or so Faulkner claimed.
All Danny knew for sure was that he didn’t like any part of this. He felt like he had a target on his back, though he couldn’t say why. Something was going on, but he wasn’t in a position to ask. As Faulkner often reminded him, his was but to do and die.
The digital lock clicked as they approached the door. Faulkner drew his sidearm and glanced at Danny. Danny nodded and took up a position on the other side of the door. Faulkner tried the door, and it swung open. He gestured, and Danny followed him in, pistol at the ready. As they entered, the warehouse lit up, one overhead fixture at a time.
The warehouse was empty. Stripped down to the concrete floors. Faulkner chuckled. “Taking no chances is she, eh? Come on.”
They proceeded slowly, their footsteps loud in the emptiness. When they’d reached the halfway point, there was a crackle from above as a PA system kicked into life. “Right on time, Faulkner. But then, punctuality is a virtue in the military, so I’ve been told.”
A woman’s voice. Harsh and pure East End. Faulkner stopped and signalled for Danny to do the same. “Is that you, Bloody Mary?” Faulkner called out.
“I prefer Ms Kelley,” she replied. “We are all professionals here, after all.”
“Debatable,” Faulkner said. “Why don’t you come out and we’ll discuss it over a cuppa, what say?”
“We’re not quite there yet, Sergeant.”
“Disappointing, but understandable. I’m told you have information for us?”
“Oh, better than that. A little birdie told me you’re looking for a certain gentleman by the name of… Holden? Is that right?”
Faulkner smiled. “You heard right.”
“What if I were to tell you that I know where he is – that I could even get him for you? What might that be worth?”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing excessive. A bit of consideration is all.”
Faulkner paused. “I’m listening.”
“Word is, Albion’s remit will be expanding. I want a guarantee you lot won’t interfere with Kelley businesses for, oh, let’s say… a year from now. How does that sound?”
“A year is a long time.”
“But not forever.”
Faulkner holstered his sidearm. “Agreed.”
“I am recording all of this, by the way. Just in case you get any ideas.”
“Trust me when I say that your piddly little crypto-scams aren’t exactly high on our list of priorities, Ms Kelley. But feel free to protect yourself however you see fit. Where’s Holden?”
“There’s an office at the back of the warehouse. See it? He’s in there. Plus something extra, just to sweeten the deal.”
“And I assume you’re not here at all. Clever.” Faulkner started towards the back. Danny trailed after him. There was no response from the PA. Mary Kelley, if that was indeed who it had been, was obviously done with them.
The office was a square along the back wall. The door was open, and Faulkner led the way inside. The room was bare, save for the two figures who sat within, both zip-tied to chairs in the centre of the room. One was a dishevelled man of middle age, the other was –
Danny froze.
The other was Ro. She sagged on her chair, her face bruised and bloody. She looked up as they entered, but the light was behind them and she obviously couldn’t make out their faces. Faulkner turned on the lights in the office, and her eyes widened. Thankfully, she said nothing. Faulkner glanced at her, and then turned his attentions to Holden.
“Hello, George. You’ve looked better.”
“Faulkner…” Holden said hoarsely.
“Clever trick with the drones, earlier. Shorting them out like that. Luckily, they’re easy to replace.” Faulkner circled him. “You went looking to the Kelleys for protection? Not your smartest move.”
“I am aware,” Holden said. “What now?”
Faulkner stopped in front of him. “Now I debrief you, George.” He glanced at Danny. “You know what that means, don’t you, Danny?”
“Means we’re to question him, Sarge.”
“Close. It means to question vigorously. Like so.” Faulkner swiped Holden with the back of his hand. Holden rocked in his chair, his cheek split and already swelling. Faulkner caught the back of his head, leaned in and gave him a sharp jab to the ribs. Holden wheezed and sagged. Faulkner stepped back.
“Right. Take notes, Danny.”
“Sarge, shouldn’t we take him – them – back to base first?”
Faulkner didn’t look at him. “No need. Now holster your sidearm and take notes.”
Danny did as he was ordered. His eyes kept straying to Ro, but she hadn’t spoken. She looked dazed. Out of it. He realised she might have a concussion. No time to worry about that now, though. He took out his Optik and began to record.
Faulkner hit Holden again – another quick jab. “Where were you hiding?”
“A lock-up… in Hackney,” Holden coughed. He rattled off an address, and Faulkner glanced at Danny to make sure he’d gotten it.
“And what about LIBRA?”
Danny frowned. He’d never heard that name before.
Holden had, though. “S-sold it.”
Another jab. Holden grimaced. “To who?” Faulkner asked.
“C-Coyle. Bloke named Coyle.”
“Coyle…” Faulkner hesitated. Danny wondered if he recognised the name. “When?”
“Few days ago. Didn’t think anyone would notice.”
“Until someone did. And then you tried to cover it all up. Wilson was one of the Kelleys’ drivers. What were you doing mixed up with him?”
“A– a mutual acquaintance put us in touch.”
Faulkner paused – and hit him again, twice. Back to the face this time, but the punches were pulled. Just hard enough to rattle Holden, not enough to stun him.
Watching, Danny could tell Faulkner had done this before. “Sarge, maybe you should lay off him.”
Faulkner turned. “Wish I could, Danny. But there’s bigger stakes at play here than you can see. Lives in the balance. Old George here, he sold some nasty equipment to some bad people. The sort of kit you probably saw in the sandbox – isn’t that right, George?”
“I– I didn’t know what it was for,” Holden began.
Faulkner slapped him. “IEDs, Danny. Ordnance for amateurs. And LIBRA, let’s not forget that.” He slapped Holden again, and the other man groaned in pain.
“What’s LIBRA, Sarge?”
Faulkner stepped back. “Nothing you need to worry about, lad. Now this Coyle, George – where is he?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a number, that’s all.”
Faulkner leaned close to him. “And where is this number?”
“On my Optik.”
“And where’s your Optik?”
“The Kelleys took it.”
Faulkner grunted. Then he hit Holden again, nearly knocking him over. “Anything else you’d like to say for yourself?”
“Go screw yourself, Faulkner,” Holden mumbled, through bruised lips.
Faulkner laughed. “That’s the spirit.” He looked at Danny. “What do you think, Danny? Is he telling the truth?”
“I don’t know, Sarge.”
Faulkner turned back to Holden. “I think he’s telling the truth. Of course, that means he’s a traitor to Albion. And what do we do with traitors, Danny boy?”
Danny didn’t say anything and Faulkner didn’t appear to expect an answer. Holden licked his lips and looked up at Faulkner. “I need to warn you – I’ve taken measures. Everything I know has been uploaded to my private servers. If something happens to me, if I don’t check in every four hours, it’ll get sent out to certain parties.”
“Like Sarah Lincoln, for instance?”
“Among others.”
“Good to know. The company thanks you for your service, George.” He drew his sidearm and Holden began to speak – maybe to protest, maybe to beg. But he never got a word out because Faulkner painted the concrete with his brains. The chair rocked and settled, Holden sagging in his bonds. Smoke rose from his head. Faulkner turned to Danny. “Right. That’s taken care of. Let’s go.”
“I thought we were taking him back to base,” Danny said hoarsely, staring at the body.
“No need. I already know what he did, Danny. And once we get to that lock-up, we’ll have the gear he stole and probably some records as well. George was always the organised sort. He probably made back-ups of his back-ups.” He gestured. “And, of course, we have his little friend here.” He smiled. “You’ve been a bit rude, by the way, Danny boy. Not introducing me to your sister here.” He looked at Ro, and Danny reluctantly followed his gaze. She was staring at Holden, a sick look on her face.
When Danny turned his attention back to Faulkner, the other man had his sidearm pointed at Danny’s face. “I’m not an idiot, Danny. And shame on you for trying to play silly buggers. How long have you known your sister was involved?”
“I didn’t – I mean – she’s not…”
“Bloody Mary leaving her here totally implies that she is.”
“And you trust her?”
“Danny, if a man can’t trust an East End crime boss, who can he trust?” Faulkner smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Answer my question, Danny, there’s a good lad.”
“She’s not involved, Sarge,” Danny insisted.
Faulkner lowered his weapon. “I’d hate to think you were lying to me, Danny. So I’m going to assume you’re not taking the piss. But we need to debrief her regardless. A bit less permanently than we did George, here.” He holstered his sidearm. “I’ll let someone else do it, don’t worry.”
“Th– thanks, Sarge.”
“Of course, afterwards she is getting banged up.” Faulkner clapped Danny on the shoulder and stepped past him. “Sorry lad, but we can’t show favouritism in these sorts of things. You understand.”
Danny said nothing. He looked Ro. She wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Day One
Thursday
Bagley-bytes 13684-3: …Redqueen is dead. God save the queen…
+++
Leake Street safe house has been burned. Begin materiel evacuation and data transfer procedures.
+++
Getting reports from Camden Market and Walker’s Court of increased Met presence, and amplified surveillance. Albion advisors on-site.
+++
Crouch End safe house has been burned. Begin materiel evacuation and data transfer procedures.
+++
Increased Albion presence reported in Tower Hamlets. Might be related to the TOAN Conference, might not. Everyone keep your masks on and your heads down.
+++
The Harp & Heron safe house has been burned. Multiple Met and Albion agents on-site. Catherine is in the wind. Local proceeds confiscated. Begin cTOS clean-up of all related ops.
+++
Blackwall Station and Dock Green have been burned. Begin materiel evacuation and data transfer procedures.
+++
Hobbs End and Totters Lane under surveillance. Heavy Albion presence. Begin preliminary materiel evacuation and data transfer procedures.
+++
Museum Station safe house has been burned. Begin materiel evacuation and data transfer procedures.
+++
Well, this is bollocks.
24: Politics
Art Coyle rubbed at his fatigued eyes and leaned back in his chair, yawning. The morning was overcast, and a light rain pattered against the windows. It had been a long, fruitless night. He’d managed to kill one of the two individuals who’d absconded with Tell’s Optik, but the other was still on the loose.
Unfortunately, the hunt would have to wait. The drone had returned a few minutes ago, to recharge and reload. He rose and went to it, checking the scuff marks where the woman’s shots had skimmed off its armour. There was some damage to one of the motors – a glancing hit – but nothing he couldn’t fix.
He set about the task while the drone recharged. After he’d finished, he’d refill its ammunition hoppe
r. As soon as it was ready, he’d send it out again. Tell’s Optik was gone – deactivated – but the drone had caught the scent of another signal. A wireless stream, as if from a camera.
Coyle was certain now that the flat had been Tell’s and had quickly deduced that the stream was likely from a web camera. Tell had scarpered, but not without leaving a pair of eyes to watch and see who might come looking for him. He was already in the process of tracing the signal back to whoever was on the other end. Once he’d gotten a location, he would dispatch the drone and wait.
He knew, with a hunter’s instinct, that the surviving operative was heading for Tell. It was what he would do, if their situations were reversed. He wondered who they were – not Albion, not the police. Someone else. The government, perhaps. Or maybe DedSec.
He’d run across the Resistance movement once before, when he’d followed a target to the States. They’d seemed largely ineffective at the time. Maybe the London branch was simply more competent. Perhaps he should ask Zero Day about them.
At the thought of his employer, he brought his display, and the tracker-app that was still running. Nothing concrete yet, but he knew he was close. He could feel it. Whatever Zero Day was planning would happen in the next forty-eight hours.
As if his thoughts had summoned them, a call-alert chimed in his ear. “Yes,” he said quietly.
“Have you found Tell yet?”
“If I had, I would have informed you immediately.”
“You sound upset.”
“Merely tired.” Coyle pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have anything useful to tell me, or are you merely being annoying?”
“Careful, Coyle. Remember who is in charge here.”
“I have not forgotten,” Coyle murmured. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way to the window. “I believe the operation has been compromised. By DedSec.”
“What makes you think that?”
Coyle looked out over the city. “Suffice it to say, I have some experience in these matters. If it is DedSec–”
“It is.”
Coyle paused, digesting this. “You knew this already. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You did not need to know.”
Day Zero Page 23
