by Asia Mackay
I texted back the code for the lift emergency authorisation code number and code word. We didn’t rely on fingerprint recognition for entry. We had found if people really wanted to get in somewhere that needed it they’d just cut off fingers. For the same reason we didn’t use iris recognition. Or facial recognition. While the entry code followed by ‘open-sesame’ would activate the lift and take you to our lower level of offices. Entering the code and ‘sesameseeds’ would mean the lift would take you down to a level below the main offices where a wall of alerted, heavily armed Rats would be waiting. If we were compromised and forced to give up the entry code, we had the chance of giving one that would save everyone inside. We were dead anyway but a final act of rebellion, a massive fuck you from the grave to our murderers, was a nice consolation.
Whatever the Ghosts were here for it had to do with the Dictaphone. The Ghosts at the fashion show last night had failed to secure it. Tenebris must have realised that Platform Eight had it and were prepared to risk an all-out invasion to get whatever intel we had stolen off it. Why was it so important to them? I’d scanned a copy of Robin’s translation of the meeting notes and had seen nothing of interest.
Yet Tenebris making a strike to get it just showed how valuable the audio files must be.
And made me all the more determined to keep them safe.
*
I opened the chamber of the Ghost’s gun. A full six rounds. I clicked it back. I heard the sound of desk drawers slamming from down the corridor as his companions searched the offices. How many were there?
The Dictaphone recordings were saved on a hard drive, which was right now in our office inside Robin’s desk drawer. I’d seen him putting it there just before he left. As we were on lockdown nothing was getting saved onto the server in case the Snake could access it. All the information we had to do with the ongoing mission was saved to our individual laptops and to hard drives or USB sticks. The Ghosts wouldn’t know what we’d saved the audio onto so would have no idea what they were looking for. They would take everything just to be safe. If they left with all our hardware we were fucked. Not just the Dictaphone intel but all our intel would be gone.
I needed to stop them.
With just six bullets.
The artillery room was at the end of a long corridor next to the car park. A room filled with weapons of every size and shape, and a pick and mix of bullets. But who knew how many Ghosts were between me and that room? The locker room was opposite me. I picked up the feet of the unconscious ghost and dragged him in. At least he was out of sight if anyone came looking. I got to my locker and pulled out my bag. I opened it and rummaged round inside – I needed to make do with what I had in here. The irony of being thirty feet away from an arsenal of weapons yet having to go into battle with a borrowed gun and the contents of my tote bag was not lost on me.
*
As I came out of the locker room I was face to face with another Ghost. His gun wasn’t raised. Mine was. I fired. The bullet hit his stomach. The shock made him drop his gun. But he was still standing. And there was no blood. Bulletproof vest. He charged at me, slamming me up against the locker room mirror. The force shattered it. Splintered glass cut into me as I fell to the floor. He pulled me to my feet and clamped an arm across my chest and dragged me down the corridor towards the sound of his colleagues searching the offices. I knew what came next. A little heated questioning about where to find what they were looking for.
That wasn’t going to happen.
I opened wide and bit down on his arm with everything I could muster.
Like daughter, like mother.
He yelped, ‘Bitch!’ and loosened his grip just for a second, but it was enough. I stamped down on his foot and a sharp elbow to the stomach before spinning round and slamming him in the balls with my knee. He screamed out and keeled over.
It was funny how many men wore bulletproof vests. Sometimes helmets. Yet never thought to wear anything to protect the part of the body that could so easily incapacitate them. I jumped on his back and held him in a sleeper hold until he went limp. I dragged him back to the locker room next to his resting friend. Two down.
I felt a sharp pain in my left side and looked down. A mirror shard had sliced into me. It was a deep cut and bleeding heavily. Rummaging through my locker I pulled out a scarf and tied it tightly round my waist, hoping it would stem the flow.
I needed to get to our office before they found the hard drive.
At least I now had two guns. I tucked one into the side pocket of my bag and held the other. I flung the bag over my shoulder and pulled the locker-room door shut, typing a code into the door’s keypad that locked it from both the inside and outside.
Things had gone quiet down the corridor.
Had the mirror man’s shout alerted them? Were they waiting for me? I reached into my bag and pulled out Gigi’s beloved Elsa doll. I leaned round the corner and flung it down the corridor. I heard the sound of her plastic head hitting the floor as she burst into: ‘Let it go, let it goo—’ Bang bang bang. Her high-pitched plea was cut off by the sound of gunfire.
There were definitely two guns. Maybe even three.
Thanks, Elsa, you did not die in vain.
I made a mental note to Amazon one-click a replacement. If I survived tonight I was going to need to make sure I didn’t have to deal with an incandescent toddler missing her favourite doll tomorrow.
Now what?
Two to three Ghosts. Armed. And those were only the ones I heard. There could be more.
I didn’t want to get shot again.
I didn’t need another scar to have to hide for the summer.
Another story to create for a concerned husband.
I had to use everything I had to my advantage. And the fact I knew the battleground was a major one.
The Platform’s fusebox was fixed to the wall next to the locker room. It was a frequented area. Due to the intense nature of our interrogation techniques, the lights often flickered and fused. The two Ghosts I had locked into the locker room didn’t have night-vision goggles so it was a fair guess their colleagues wouldn’t either.
I opened the fusebox and flicked every switch. All the lights went out.
Shouts on my right from the corridor and offices and from back past the canteen. Jesus. How many of them were there?
While I was at the back of the canteen, chomping through my sandwich, worrying about what to donate to the school tombola, they must have walked straight past without seeing me.
Inside my bag was a small dinosaur torch of Gigi’s. I couldn’t risk turning it on in the corridor. I felt my way from the fuse box towards our office. I needed to get the hard drive from Robin’s desk and break protocol by copying its contents, and everything else we had on the mission, onto our server. Right now the risk of exposing the info to our network was lower than the risk of losing the intel altogether.
I got to our office door, reached inside my bag and pulled out two packets of Pom-Bears. I sprinkled them all around the hallway and the entrance to our office. Inside the office I turned on Gigi’s torch – a T-Rex projected onto the floor. Checking around the room showed that each of the desks had a laptop on it. I left Robin’s but picked up the rest and took them to the safe on the back wall, gently placing them inside and securing the door. I went to Robin’s desk and got the hard drive out of his drawer and connected it to his laptop. With the press of a few buttons the laptop was logged onto our server. I started copying over both the hard drive and the desktop folder labelled with Peng’s mission number. ‘Nine minutes remaining’ said the screen.
Nine minutes to hold them off. I watched the screen as it copied. At least if they got all our hardware we would have a copy of everything relevant to the mission saved on our server. At six minutes to go I heard the unmistakable crunch-crunch of heavy boots on crisps. I gently lowered the laptop screen and crawled under the desk. Six minutes until the intel was safe.
With any luck reinforcements wou
ld’ve arrived by then.
I heard more crunches as the footsteps entered the office. There was a pause. I could nearly feel him staring round the dark room, straining his eyes.
There were more crunches as another Ghost entered.
The first spoke in a low voice: ‘No sign of anyone.’
‘There are clearly people here. We don’t even know where the fuck all the others are. I saw three torches fixed to the wall just past that canteen. Get them. We don’t leave until we’ve searched every office.’
I listened as their footsteps went back down the corridor, away from the offices and towards the canteen. Dammit, they’d seen Eight’s emergency torches. It would only take a few minutes for them to get there. I needed to act fast. Soon as they had those torches they could potentially find the fuse box and get the lights back on.
With the dinosaur torch in one hand and a gun in the other, I left our office, my bag still slung over my shoulder, and headed down towards their colleagues along the corridor. I limbered up and stomped my feet and waved the torch light around.
Come on, boys.
Come and play.
There was a shot.
Great. I fired two rounds into the darkness. I doubt I hit anyone but that wasn’t the plan. I turned and ran, my feet thudding against the floor. Shouts and I heard them chasing. I held the torchlight behind me, a jostling light leading the way. I ran to the corner and fired another shot.
I ran towards the canteen. No torch lights shone back at me. I still had time before they got to them.
Now for the hard part. Timing was everything.
I rolled my torch down the corridor towards the canteen and fired a shot to my left and to my right before diving through the door to the interrogation room behind me.
Next was an array of gunfire as the Ghosts fired at each other.
I stayed inside the interrogation room, up against the wall.
I hoped I’d be at least a few Ghosts down by the time they realised they were killing each other.
A shout. Followed by another shout. The gunfire stopped.
The penny had dropped. But how many men had?
I heard three different voices.
‘What the fuck, Jerry?’
‘Someone was here, they were shooting at us.’
‘This place was meant to be empty. There’s who knows how many people down here fucking with us.’
‘Is this everyone left?’
‘Fucking hell.’
‘Come on, we’ve found some torches.’
I heard footsteps going down the corridor as they headed away. I waited a minute and then quietly opened the door and slipped out.
A hand grabbed me by the throat and pinned me against the wall. Fuck. One had been waiting. These guys weren’t total amateurs.
He pulled the gun out of my hand and tucked it into his waistband. Least it was the one whose chamber I had already emptied of bullets.
‘Pass me the bag.’ He spoke in a low tone, clearly worried as to where my colleagues were.
I took it off my shoulder, slipping my hand inside it for the briefest of moments, and handed it over to him.
He threw it to the floor.
‘You’re going to turn the damn lights back on. And no more tricks. What other weapons do you have down here?’
‘You know what this place is, right? We have every sort of weapon imaginable. My favourite is totally unnoticeable . . . Until you’re breathing it.’ I opened my hand in front of his face and blew onto my palm. The man screamed and rubbed at his eyes as he was showered in an impossible to escape substance.
I charged at him, pushing him backwards into the interrogation room, and pulled shut the door and bolted it.
I headed down the corridor, brushing my hands together.
Glitter.
It really did get fucking everywhere.
Chapter Eighteen
BY MY COUNT THERE were only two or three Ghosts now left. I looked down at my watch. The files should’ve all copied. I needed to get back to our office and secure the box.
I took a deep breath. I pulled the one remaining gun out my bag. I turned the corner and heard a familiar sound. Lift doors opening. I flattened myself against the wall and held my breath. Reinforcements. Mine or theirs?
Frederick stepped out. Gun raised. Thank fuck.
‘Frederick, I’m here,’ I whispered. I put a hand on his arm.
He swivelled towards me. ‘Lex, you OK?’
‘I’m fine. We need to get down there.’ I motioned back towards my office. ‘They’re after all our intel. They can’t leave here with anything. By my count two or three Ghosts are left in play.’ I winced as I felt my side; blood had soaked through the scarf. ‘Follow my lead.’
Frederick would be as blind as the Ghosts having only been down here once before. With his hand on my shoulder we made slow progress down the corridor. We got to the corner before the offices; the flash of torchlights lit up Watermelon’s office at the end of the corridor.
‘My office is the one nearest to us. You need to cover me when I get in there. How much ammo have you got?’
‘Just what’s in the chamber. Six shots.’
‘Well, I hope it hasn’t been too long since you fired. Just stand at the door. If they look like they’re coming in, start firing.’
I felt my way through our office, I felt past my desk, then Jake’s and finally got to Robin’s. I opened the laptop. The screen announced: ‘Transfer complete’. I unplugged the hard drive and slipped it into my jeans pocket. I moved Robin’s laptop to the safe on the back wall and shut the door.
‘Lex!’ I heard Frederick shout and then two shots fired.
I stumbled back through the dark office.
Frederick was still by the doorway. He was lit up by the torch on the floor next to the body at his feet.
‘I saw the torchlight coming this way and just fired.’ He didn’t take his eyes off the corridor ahead. He was right not to. Another Ghost could be coming.
‘Good call.’ I winced and held my side as I reached down to the body and pulled the gun out his hand and the torch off the floor.
I thought about what I’d do if I was one of the last remaining Ghosts. In an unknown territory. With an unknown number of hostiles. I heard a clatter from the office down the hallway. One was running. The torchlight was flashing down the corridor.
‘Come on. We can’t let him get out.’
We ran after him, Frederick a little ahead, the searing pain in my side slowing me down. I saw the swing of the torch light as the Ghost half-turned back towards us. Getting ready to fire.
Frederick hesitated.
I didn’t.
I fired and the Ghost went down. There was a cry and a series of ‘Fuuuuucckkk’s.
We approached him slowly, guns still raised, torch shining right on him. He held his hands up against the light.
It was just a leg wound. I kicked his gun away from him.
‘Stay with him. I’ll get the lights back on. Keep your gun on him; if he makes a move, shoot him.’
I was halfway down the corridor when all the lights came on. I blinked three times, adjusting. Hattie and Jake were walking towards me. Both of them held a gun in each hand. I went towards them holding my side.
‘Lex, you’re bleeding.’ Jake came straight to me.
‘I’m OK.’
‘How many are there?’
‘There are two in the locker room and if you go back towards the canteen there are probably two or three down there. All of them are either dead or near dead. There’s a live sparkly one locked in Interrogation Room Three. There’s a dead one outside our office and an injured one outside Jagger. Frederick arrived five minutes ago.’ I winced as Jake peeled back the scarf to look at the cut. ‘He’s watching the one by Jagger.’
‘You’re going to need stitches.’
‘Figured as much. I’ll do a quick patch-up now and drop in to the Kensington Wing later.’
The ex
clusive, private Kensington Wing of Chelsea and Westminster Hospital was where all injured Rats ended up. We all had comprehensive health insurance, which covered our frequent stays there, where we were cared for by a fleet of security-cleared doctors and nurses who knew not to ask any questions and write reports to fit in with designated cover stories.
‘Get to the canteen and use the first aid kit there. We’ll go relieve Frederick and round up the Ghosts.’
As I was easing myself into a chair in the canteen I heard Jake opening the interrogation room door, followed by laughter and ‘Do you always wear glitter when on a break-in?’
I used the special glue inside the first aid kit as best I could. I just needed to stop the bleeding. I was bandaging myself up as Frederick walked in.
‘I didn’t realise you were injured.’ He came up to me and helped me fasten the bandage.
‘It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine. Are you all right? You look a little pale.’
I felt bad. This wasn’t what he was used to. But he’d got my call for help and he’d come. One gun and little experience, blazing to try and do what he could.
‘I’m OK. I just . . . well, what will happen now?’
I shrugged. ‘The usual – interrogation for the live, the Clean Team for the dead.’
The Clean Team were incredibly efficient at eliminating any trace of a crime having been committed or a body being left behind. They worked for Mrs Moulage at Requiem, Eight’s crematorium business. The only way to drive around London without worrying about having a body in the boot is by having a business where you were expected to have a body in the boot.
I walked over to the cabinet at the back of the canteen and took out a bottle of whisky. I opened it and poured him a large shot.
I didn’t want to probe, didn’t want to ask, but that Ghost may have been his first kill. Having scanned his service record, eight years as an officer speeding through the ranks in the army didn’t mean close combat. It didn’t mean having to cut down a man coming at you.
I poured myself one and downed it. It burned the back of my throat.