AWOL 2

by Andrew Lane

  ‘Three Harley Davidsons totally wrecked,’ Tara said. She walked towards him, keeping the huge weapon pointed at him. ‘Quite a score.’

  ‘I only counted one wrecked, and one goo-ed up,’ he objected.

  She grimaced. ‘The one that you “goo-ed up” –’ she started to say, but he interrupted her.

  ‘You goo-ed it up, not me.’

  ‘Children,’ she muttered, then, louder: ‘The one that was goo-ed up, by people yet to be established, will take a lot of restoration to get the scratches out. And the goo has an unfortunate corrosive effect on metal. A lot of the parts will need to be replaced. The second bike drove into a glass wall and burned up, while the third was driven into the security fence at the far side of the Institute by a guard who’d never ridden a bike before and didn’t know what he was doing.’

  ‘You can’t blame me for that last one,’ Kieron protested. ‘And frankly the other two are a bit of a stretch.’

  ‘It’s not up to me,’ she said, raising the goo gun so that it pointed at his face. ‘Todd will not be happy about this. One of them was a customised Hardtail Bobber, one was ridden by Steve McQueen in The Great Escape and one was ridden by Peter Fonda in Easy Rider. Those last two are the very definition of “irreplaceable”.’

  Things had got very confusing for Kieron. He felt as if he’d been pummelled all over his body; his head hurt, the scratches on his hands and his back stung, and he seemed to be expected to keep his end up in an increasingly bizarre conversation.

  ‘I think I saw The Great Escape a few years ago, at Christmas,’ he said weakly. ‘I’ve never seen Easy Rider.’

  ‘Of course you haven’t,’ Tara said dismissively. ‘You’re only a kid, and they haven’t done a big-budget remake with CGI.’ She sighed. ‘Both films – all the good guys die. It’s just like real life. Now brace yourself – this won’t be pleasant.’

  Kieron stared down the barrel of her weapon. ‘You’re not going to fire that at my face, are you? It’s meant to incapacitate, not choke, surely?’

  ‘Normally I’d aim it at your arms or legs,’ Tara admitted, ‘but you’ve annoyed me.’

  ‘You said it corrodes metal! What about skin?’

  ‘Let’s find out,’ she said. And pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They parked up on the side of the interstate, in a lay-by that seemed to be set up for truckers who needed a break. Fortunately, they were the only ones there. Sitting in the hire car, listening to some bizarre American rock station whose name was composed of random-sounding initials – KVCG or KUJG or something – Bex was getting increasingly worried. She realised this because her fingers were drumming on the steering wheel, because she kept changing the radio station to see if there was anything better to listen to, and because Sam kept saying, ‘Are you all right? You seem nervous.’

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ she said eventually.

  From where he sat in the back, Sam patted her shoulder reassuringly. ‘Nothing’s wrong. Kieron’s intelligent. He’s even fairly active. He’ll complete the mission. OK, we’ve driven past the car park three times now and he’s not been there, but all that means is that he hasn’t got into the computers yet. He’s fine. Trust me.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Bex said.

  After a few moments silence Sam said, in a small voice, ‘You’re right – I don’t. I’m just trying to keep your spirits up. And mine.’

  ‘You guys watch a lot of movies, don’t you?’ Bex asked.

  ‘Yeah. Why?’

  ‘You know that whenever a character says, “I’m sure everything’s OK,” it’s about to go terribly wrong?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a cliché. Or a trope, which is what we call it these days.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks for that glimpse into teenage slang.’ She took a breath. ‘And you know whenever a character says, “Something’s wrong,” then something is actually wrong, and the audience is just about to find out how wrong it is?’

  Sam’s voice sounded like each word was being pulled from him with forceps. ‘Yeah. I know films like that.’

  ‘Well, something’s wrong.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ And it was true – she didn’t. Her careful preparation of Kieron for this mission had covered everything that he might do, depending on a range of circumstances, but hadn’t, she realised belatedly, addressed what she would do if she started getting worried. ‘Let’s drive back to the security gate again, just to see if anything’s changed.’

  Bex put the car in drive and pulled off. She’d chosen the waiting area carefully: just a little way ahead an intersection lay where she could turn around and go back to the Goldfinch Institute turn-off.

  Thirteen minutes later they were heading back down the road to the Institute.

  As they got closer, Bex noticed that the low clouds in the sky seemed to be reflecting light from the Institute. Irregular, flashing light. Blue light.

  ‘Someone’s activated the alarms,’ she said. ‘I think Kieron’s been discovered.’ She pressed down hard on the accelerator.

  ‘What will they do to him?’ Sam asked.

  ‘I don’t know. It depends how guilty they are. If there’s a simple explanation for the deaths of so many people in the same place for the same reason, then they’ll probably call the police. If that’s what’s happened we can probably negotiate him out of custody fairly easily. Or break him out.’ She took a deep breath. ‘If, on the other hand, the Goldfinch Institute are at fault then they might just take him off for questioning.’

  ‘And that means …?’

  ‘I’m not going to lie to you, Sam – it means they’re going to hurt him.’

  Silence from the back seat, then: ‘We need to rescue him.’

  ‘We do, but he’s got both pairs of the glasses. We’re literally and metaphorically going in blind.’

  The Goldfinch Institute appeared over the horizon: a mass of blue glass buildings reflecting the light of the desert moon. As they approached it was obvious that alarm lights were flashing all over the complex, giving it the look of a macabre dance club.

  ‘This is bad,’ Sam whispered. ‘This is really bad.’

  ‘I’ll do a slow drive-past of the parking area,’ Bex said, as she approached the security cabin. ‘If we’re lucky, Kieron will have got out and will be waiting there.’

  He wasn’t. The tarmac square was empty. Bex didn’t stop, but she made sure she drove through the area slowly enough that Kieron could make his presence known, if he was there.

  The back of her neck itched. Someone was watching her careful drive-past. Maybe a security guard in the cabin; maybe someone else, somewhere else. And she didn’t think it was Kieron.

  ‘Stop!’ Sam said urgently.

  ‘Why?’ Bex asked, but she was already slowing down.

  ‘I saw something.’

  She brought the car to a stop. As she tried to look casual, like a wife who’d come by to pick up a husband who was working late, she heard Sam move across the leather upholstery towards the driver’s side back door. It opened and he slid out.

  Bex noticed that across the tarmac, beyond the security fence, a guard had left the cabin and was staring at her.

  ‘Hurry,’ she said. ‘Whatever you’re doing, just hurry.’

  The security guard started to walk towards her. Either he had a hidden remote control or there was someone else in the cabin, because the metal barriers started sliding down to allow him to exit.

  ‘Sam?’ she hissed.

  ‘Got it!’ he said, sliding back into the car and shutting the door.

  Bex put the car back into drive and began to accelerate towards the one road that led to the Institute. In her rear-view mirror she kept watching the security guard. He stood there uncertainly, one hand on the butt of his gun.

  ‘What have you got?’ she asked as they sped away.

  ‘Kieron’s glasses,’ Sam said bleakly. ‘Either he dropped them, or he thre
w them over for us to find or because he didn’t want to be caught with them.’

  ‘Which pair are they?’

  ‘Does it matter? They’ve got Kieron.’

  ‘Yes, it matters. Which glasses?’

  ‘The ones that Bradley was wearing when we first saw him, and Kieron used when you were in Mumbai and Pakistan, and you had on when he went into the Institute this morning. Those ones.’

  ‘Thank heavens,’ she said. ‘Quick – put them on! See if you can see what Kieron’s looking at!’

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’ Sam said, slipping the glasses on: ‘They’ve got Kieron!’

  ‘Yes, but if we’ve got those glasses – if he managed to get those glasses to us – then we hopefully have a record of what’s happened to him and what he found out. And that’s the only thing that might help us to rescue him! Well done for spotting them. I could have driven right over them.’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said angrily. ‘Just darkness.’ He pulled the glasses off in disgust. ‘They’re switched off, or in a bag or something.’ He shook his head. ‘We have to get in there. We’ve got to get him out!’

  Bex tried to keep her voice calm and level, even though she didn’t feel in the slightest bit calm. ‘The best thing we can do,’ she said, ‘is get out of here, so we don’t get taken as well. We’re no help to Kieron if we get captured. Once we’re back, we can look at the glasses, see if he managed to record anything we can use. We can also talk to Bradley and see if he’s got any ideas.’

  ‘But you’re employed by MI6!’ Sam protested. ‘Call them in to help!’

  ‘That’s not how it works, Sam. This is a deniable operation, which means MI6 won’t even admit we exist. And remember – I’m not even supposed to have involved you and Kieron. No, we need to sort this out ourselves.’ She sighed. ‘Somehow.’

  The tense and silent drive back to the hotel took half an hour, taking them from the desert isolation of the Goldfinch Institute to the perpetual lights and traffic of the centre of Albuquerque. Late though it was, cars, trucks and vans were heading in all directions, but Bex had never felt so alone. This had been her nightmare – getting Kieron into a dangerous, potentially lethal, situation just because he’d wanted to help. This was what she’d fought so hard to avoid. She should never have agreed to keep in contact with him. When she’d returned from India she should have taken the ARCC glasses and the earpiece from him, grabbed Bradley and relocated somewhere Kieron couldn’t find her.

  But beneath all that, beneath the professional guilt over getting an innocent member of the public involved in intelligence matters, there was something else. She liked Kieron. She’d come to really appreciate his attitude, his resilience, his intelligence and even his taste in music. Sometimes. If anything bad should happen to him, she didn’t know how she’d be able to cope.

  ‘Bex …’

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly.

  ‘I’m sorry I got angry. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘It is my fault.’

  ‘Kieron made his own choices, and I’ve never seen him happier than he’s been this past month. It’s like he’s found something to believe in.’ Sam hesitated for a moment. ‘We’re greebs. We don’t believe in anything apart from darkness and the ultimate futility of human existence.’

  ‘And ice cream,’ Bex pointed out.

  ‘And ice cream,’ Sam conceded. ‘But we’ve both discovered there’s something bigger than ourselves that we can help with. That we can make a difference to. Kieron isn’t here by accident – he made a choice. And so did I. You should respect that.’

  Arriving in the hotel car park, Bex chose a spot away from other cars and in the shade of a desert tree with wide, spreading leaves. At least that meant the car would be slightly cooler when they came back to it. She checked the time. Sunrise would be occurring in maybe an hour or so. She needed sleep, but she had to keep going. She had to find Kieron.

  As she opened the door to get out of the car, her mobile rang. Getting back in, she pulled it from her pocket. Probably Bradley, she thought – it was mid-afternoon in the UK. She quailed slightly at the prospect of telling him what had happened, but he might be able to help, and he had to know that things had gone wrong.

  The ringing continued, but not from the mobile she held. It still came from her pocket.

  She pulled out her other mobile – the one that she’d bought back in England to use as part of her undercover identity.

  ‘Hello?’ No mention of her name – that was standard practice for agents. Just an acknowledgement that she was there, listening.

  ‘Hello?’ A woman’s voice. She recognised it, but couldn’t place it. ‘Is that Chloe Gibbons?’

  Chloe Gibbons – the supposed publicist for the Lethal Insomnia competition. Her current cover identity. And now she recognised the voice – it was Kieron’s mother.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, feeling her heart race. A tight band seemed to be gripping her chest, stopping her from breathing properly. ‘Who is this?’ She knew perfectly well, but she had to buy a few moments to get herself under control.

  ‘This is Veronica – Veronica Mellor. I’ve been trying to phone Kieron to see how he is. Everything’s OK, isn’t it? It’s just – I haven’t heard from him.’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Mrs Mellor,’ Bex said, trying to sound as reassuring as she could. ‘The boys crashed out after the flight. They were exhausted, poor things. That’s probably why Kieron hasn’t called you.’

  ‘Could you put him on – just for a second. I want to hear his voice, just to reassure myself.’

  ‘Oh, I’m really sorry but I’m afraid he’s in the studio with the band right now,’ Bex said. She mentally crossed her fingers. ‘I could drag him out, if you like.’

  ‘No – don’t do that,’ Kieron’s mother said hurriedly. ‘He’d never forgive me. Is he eating properly?’

  ‘Like a horse.’

  ‘Not crap food – good food. Not chips and burgers and stuff.’

  Bex remembered back to the ice creams, but said, ‘I’m making sure they’re both getting fresh vegetables and proper steaks. They seem to like the food here.’

  ‘And Sam – is he having fun?’

  She glanced over at Sam and put a finger to her lips, just in case he was going to say something. ‘Yes, he’s having a great time too.’

  ‘And they’re not too much for you to cope with?’

  ‘They’re both great boys.’ She hesitated. ‘Kieron’s a credit to you, Mrs Mellor. He’s been brought up really well.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s been … hard. Especially since his dad left. Look, I don’t want to waste your time. Just, you know, get him to ring his mum, will you? And tell him I love him.’

  ‘I will. And don’t worry – he’s having the time of his life.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She rang off, and Bex just sat there for a moment, holding the phone up to her ear. Those last seven words had been the hardest lie she’d ever had to tell.

  ‘You should phone your mum,’ she said eventually to Sam.

  ‘Oh, she’s probably forgotten I’m abroad,’ he said levelly, looking away out of the car window. ‘She probably thinks I’m down at the local youth club or something.’ He paused for a moment. ‘It’s a big family,’ he went on. ‘Easy to lose track of a child or two.’

  Bex wanted to say something reassuring, but she couldn’t think of anything that might help. Instead she pushed her door open, intending to leave the car, but something made her stay where she was. It took her a moment to work out what had triggered her mental alarm bells.

  ‘Sam?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Your room overlooks this car park, doesn’t it?’

  He thought for a second. ‘Yeah, it does. I’d hoped for, like, a desert view or something, or maybe a panoramic view of the city, but all I get is tarmac, trees, cars and white lines. Why?’

  ‘Which one is your room?’

  He craned his neck, gazing up at the concrete edifice of t
he hotel. ‘Third floor, two windows along from the end … oh. That’s odd.’

  ‘What do you see?’

  ‘There’s someone at the window. They’re looking down here. Maybe I got it wrong.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Maybe there’s another car park.’

  ‘There isn’t another car park, and there is someone in your room. And probably in mine as well. They’ve realised that Kieron isn’t all he seems, and so they’ve come to take us prisoner.’

  ‘They’ve stepped back,’ Sam said. ‘They’ve let the curtains fall back.’

  ‘Then they’ve seen us, and probably alerted their people. They’ll be coming for us.’ Bex turned the key in the ignition. ‘We need to get out of here.’

  As Sam scrabbled to get his seat belt back on she reversed rapidly out of the bay, nearly hitting a black SUV that had appeared out of nowhere and which seemed determined to block their path. She managed to weave around it like a drunk driver spotting an obstruction just in time, then slam the car into drive and accelerate away.

  Across the car park, people wearing black had appeared from all the hotel entrances. Two other black SUVs had leaped out of their parking spots and were converging on them.

  Rather than crash into the SUV directly ahead of her, Bex veered left, heading diagonally across the parking lot and through the gap between a lemon-yellow sports car and a battered pick-up truck that was only a few centimetres wider than their car. She made it with just a bump or two but without hearing any squealing metal.

  ‘We may have lost a door handle,’ Sam shouted over the roar of the engine. ‘Just saying.’

  The SUV that had tried to block their exit had followed them, almost bumper to bumper. Too late, the driver realised they were driving a wider vehicle as the SUV slammed into the sports car and the truck. The sports car spun round, glass smashing and alarm blaring. The truck just rocked back on its suspension. In her rear-view mirror Bex could see a sudden bloom of white in the SUV’s windscreen as the airbags deployed.

  One down; no idea how many to go.

  ‘Head over there!’ Sam shouted, pointing to a distant corner of the car park.