Operation Hurricane: The Evan Boyd Adventures #1

by Benjamin Shaw

  Just as he was steeling himself to make the next slide, Boyd heard a far-off sound, like a beating drum. He swung his head around in the direction of the sound and saw that Spider was no longer giving chase. In fact, he and bullet-head were now way up above him, crawling back up towards the capsules. What the hell where they up to? Boyd stayed put as the strange noise got louder, sounding less like a drum now and more like air being sliced apart by a heavy set of rotor blades. Then, it came into view: an imposing black helicopter tipped forward, chopping through the sky like a shark cutting through water. Somehow Boyd didn’t think this belonged to FrakeNews, or Section X; this was Hornet’s reinforcements and they were moving in for the kill.

  He brought his feet up on the rim and, holding onto the umbrella, quickly began to pull himself back up towards the cars. Boyd did his best to concentrate on where he was putting his feet whilst he snatched a look back towards the skyline, searching for signs of the helicopter. It was getting closer now, surely only moments away, and Boyd saw that the Russian was nearly back to Skye’s capsule – he was running out of time.

  Then he saw her coming around the side of the car he had departed only moments ago – Hornet and two more men. How could he have been so stupid? He hadn’t saved anyone. He had tried to play the hero, just like he had done at Waterloo Station; just as Hornet knew he would, and he had left his friends completely unguarded.

  Boyd put the umbrella back into his belt loop and moved as fast as he could back through the frame. He had to make it to that capsule before she did. What had Ophelia called her? A “highly-skilled assassin”? And Boyd had left his friends within her reach.

  He let his anger drive him on. When he reached the section directly under his capsule, he looked up and saw the soles of the Russian’s boots, plus three pairs of the same black boots belonging to the other men, but no sign of Hornet. Boyd was about to shimmy up the frame when his breath was taken away by the force of the helicopter. It rose alongside the London Eye, just metres away from him. The ‘THWAP!’ of the rotor blades and the power of the air hitting him knocked him back against the steel bars. He struggled to open his eyes as the wind held him down. When he managed to part them into a squint, he saw the long, black machine rise and hover over the big wheel before a rope ladder dropped down from its belly.

  ‘Oh no!’ Boyd shouted to himself, as the Russian lunged out and grabbed for the ladder.

  Boyd didn’t have time to think about what was going on in the capsule before he heard a scream. Hornet appeared at the door, pushing Skye close to the edge. Her face was twisted with pure terror. The Russian caught the ladder and put his foot on it. Just as it looked like Skye was beginning to fight back, Hornet shoved her out of the capsule and Boyd stopped breathing. He watched helplessly as she fell, limbs flailing, until she was caught by a waiting henchman.

  Hornet jumped after her, then pushed a petrified Skye towards the ladder. A moment later, Harry jumped from the capsule and landed on top of Spider. They tumbled through the steel frame, right next to Boyd. Spider grabbed at his ankle, his face screwed up and his teeth gritted.

  Before Boyd had a chance to respond, Harry kicked at the man’s arm. ‘Go, get her back!’ he shouted before lunging at the other man.

  Boyd hauled himself up and onto the top of the frame just as Skye was pulled into the cab of the helicopter, and Hornet and her team scrambled in behind her. Boyd reached the top of the frame, the London skyline silhouetted behind him as he pulled himself to his feet. The bullet-headed Russian smiled from the helicopter as he started to pull up the ladder and gave the order for the pilot to swing away into the sky.

  Boyd took two steps across the frame and jumped with everything he had left. His heart seemed to stop beating as, for a second or two, he was soaring forward and upwards, almost like he was flying. Then gravity kicked in and he started to drop downward. As he did, he desperately reached out towards the ladder with everything he had, stretched until it physically hurt, but it wouldn’t be enough.

  For just a split-second, Boyd’s mind drifted to what it would be like to fall from here. Would he end up in the Thames? Would he survive? As soon as it had come, the thought was overtaken with another; he reached around to the back of his jeans, grabbed the umbrella, and chopped through the air with it, like an axe. It caught on the last rung of the ladder at the same moment that the helicopter started to roar away.

  Boyd was pulled with it at savage speed; he had given up hanging from one thing and traded it for hanging from another, only this one was moving at around 50 miles an hour. He quickly got his other hand on the ladder and started to climb.

  ‘Come and join the party!’ was the shout from above as Hornet held out her hand.

  He had no choice; he reached up and took the treacherous woman’s hand. She pulled him into the helicopter and as he was sprawled on his belly, he felt a hot sting at the back of his neck. His vision immediately started to blur as the strength in his body drained away.

  The helicopter started to bank left and Boyd was helpless to stop himself rolling over. The last thing he saw was Skye’s face, her familiar hard-as-nails expression now firmly back in place.

  ‘Keep your head, Boyd,’ she said earnestly. ‘These fools won’t beat us.’

  Hornet laughed. ‘Kids these days – they think they know everything.’

  Everything Changes

  It only took a moment to bring someone back from a jump, but the minutes that followed could be crucial, because you never knew what effects they might be suffering from. Karl had known subjects to be unconscious, or in excruciating pain, and he silently hoped that Blair would be spared both.

  As the noise subsided and the light dimmed, Karl released the catches on the lid of the Chamber and opened it. There, inside the sleeve, floating in the water, was Blair, conscious but breathing hard and fast. Karl released the valve to empty the water, unzipped the sleeve and pulled his daughter into his arms. ‘Alright, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’ Water spilled over the concrete floor as Karl removed the breathing mask and tilted Blair’s head towards him. ‘Take a long breath, stay calm and take your time.’

  Blair was gasping at the air around her, desperate to catch her breath as she tried to speak. ‘Father,’ she managed, heaving and choking.

  ‘It’s okay, take a moment, we have time,’ he reassured her.

  She shook her head. ‘No, listen, we don’t...’ Blair steadied herself. ‘Bishop was killed,’ she said, then gasped again. ‘Bishop was killed by travellers from the future.’ Her eyes flickered before she passed out in her father’s arms.

  Karl lifted her carefully from the Chamber and carried her across the old warehouse to her bed. He gently rested her weary body down and covered her with a blanket. Then he stood and thought for a moment in the darkness, stroking his face with his long fingers.

  This changed everything. He had to make sure Blair got her strength back. He knew what he had to do.

  PART THREE

  Solid Ground

  Fitz had watched the helicopter disappear out of view with a sense of total helplessness. The men had stormed into their capsule, taken Skye and there had been nothing he could do about it; there were too many of them and they were too strong. Now they had flown out of sight with Skye and Boyd in their clutches and his stomach churned with an anger and frustration unlike anything he had ever experienced.

  The authorities had got the London Eye moving again and by the time their car reached the ground, the police were taking statements and trying to figure out what had gone on. Harry had used one of Spider’s own shoelaces to secure him to the railing inside the capsule.

  Ophelia had quietly made another phone call before giving Fitz and Harry a clear order: ‘When we get to ground level, absolute quiet and follow my lead.’

  Fitz did as he was told. He didn’t know what else he could do; he was in a complete state of shock. He had come up to London to help Boyd and Skye and they were gone, missing, facing God knows what; a
nd he hadn’t done a thing to stop it. He felt an instinct to run away from these people and go home, but he would be no help to Boyd at all if he did that. Only a few days ago, this had all seemed like a game, an adventure, and now he could see it for what it was: it was about life and death.

  Their capsule settled to a stop at ground level and Ophelia reached her hands out, taking hold of both Harry and Fitz. She held their arms tight and mumbled some thanks and prayers as they made their way across the concourse and away from the London Eye. Ophelia could put on a convincing act when she wanted to, looking for all the world like an old lady who had been through a terrifying ordeal. A couple who had been in the same capsule were talking to the police and pointing in Harry’s direction.

  ‘Okay, nice and quick now, please, team,’ Ophelia said. ‘Around the corner you’ll find a green van; that’s our man.’

  One of the policemen approached and raised a hand to Harry. ‘Can I have a word, please, sir?’

  ‘Please, constable,’ Harry said meekly, ‘my mother is very shaken. Can I just get her to the ambulance over there?’ He pointed to the road nearby, which was now lined with emergency vehicles of all varieties, blue lights flashing.

  ‘Oh, right. Yes, of course. Let me help you.’

  ‘Oh, you are very kind,’ Ophelia said, making sure her voice was suitably thin and reedy.

  Fitz broke away and walked behind them, watching as Ophelia took her small, unsteady steps towards the ambulance at the front of the line. He could see that there was a paramedic behind the wheel, filling in some paperwork. As they got to the back of the ambulance, Harry climbed in through the open doors and held his hands out. The policeman stood behind Ophelia and helped her up.

  Once she was inside and out of sight, the tiny woman allowed the policeman to follow up the steps behind her before she broke out of character. Ophelia spun swiftly around to her right and brought her elbow up under the policeman’s jaw; his legs gave way as he went out like a light. Harry caught the copper as he tumbled and gently laid him out on the gurney. Ophelia gave the young man a thoughtful tap on the cheek. ‘Nothing personal. Best we get you to hospital.’ She looked to Harry. ‘Your mother? Cheeky sod.’

  They climbed out of the ambulance and Harry shut the doors. He banged twice on the back and the driver, thinking this was a signal that he was loaded with a patient and ready to go, put the big machine in gear and roared away in a scream of sirens. Ophelia led them away as she marched along the pavement, the walk of the struggling old lady had given way to one of single-minded resolve.

  Three cars down was an old green van, a royal crest in gold on the side, above the words ‘Royal Parks’. Ophelia pulled back the side door and ushered Fitz inside while Harry climbed in the front next to the driver, who had thick white hair rebelliously jutting out at all angles from his small head. There were padded leather benches on both sides of the van. Fitz sat on the far side and Ophelia positioned herself opposite him.

  ‘Fitz, this is Barnaby Pine. Barnaby, meet Fitz.’

  ‘Afternoon, Fitz,’ the man said in a Yorkshire accent and gave a little salute with his left hand.

  ‘Straight back to the shop, I think, Barney,’ Ophelia said, looking out of the front window at the traffic.

  ‘Very good, ma’am.’

  ‘Did our guest arrive?’

  ‘Indeed. She’s having a coffee while she waits.’

  ‘Wonderful, I think we’re going to need all the help we can get.’

  She looked at Fitz, who had just noticed that his hands were shaking.

  ‘We need to find Boyd,’ he managed to say, almost too quietly for anyone to hear, but Ophelia clearly picked up on it.

  She leant over and tapped his hand. ‘Fitz, listen to me, we’re going to get him back.’

  ‘Good.’ That was all Fitz needed to hear. ‘I know what he can be like. But it’s because no one’s ever really had his back, it’s not his fault. I can’t let him down.’

  The Toy Shop

  Barnaby pointed the van towards a sign for Regent’s Park. He drove under a beautiful, ornate black gateway adorned with gold, before slowly crawling along a tree-lined road. The green van was right at home here, with its ‘Royal Parks’ crest emblazoned on the side and the bonnet. Dog walkers and joggers happily moved aside to allow them through and Barnaby replied with a raised hand and a nod.

  When he reached a sign pointing left for the English Garden, Barnaby swung the van right down a narrow path. He pulled to a stop near a small café hut and tucked the van under a tree. It wasn’t especially busy in this isolated section of the park; most of the tourists and walkers would visit one of the many picturesque gardens rather than choose this remote café for a pit stop.

  As they climbed out of the van, Fitz noticed someone sitting at a table – a young woman looking at a phone. She had black and pink hair pulled up into a topknot and wore a baggy animal-print jumper. As Fitz got closer, he could see she was watching a news report showing scenes from the incident at the London Eye: a reporter was standing in front of crowds, with police milling around behind the taped-off tourist attraction.

  ‘Miss Azima,’ Barnaby got her attention as he approached the table, ‘please allow me to introduce Ophelia, Harry and Fitzgerald.’

  ‘Fitz,’ he said, feeling his cheeks flush. ‘Just call me Fitz.’

  ‘Whatever you say, lad,’ Barnaby continued. ‘And this young lady is Azima, an associate of Miss Rake.’

  ‘Ah, okay. Gotcha.’ Fitz nodded. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t… well, anyway, I’m just sorry.’

  ‘Follow me, please,’ Ophelia said. Fitz and Azima didn’t move. Ophelia glanced at each one of the group; they looked exhausted and bewildered.

  ‘Wait!’ Azima waved her hand. ‘Skye told me to go with this guy, so I did. But I have no idea who you are and why I’m here.’

  Ophelia glanced around the park, ensuring that they were alone. ‘I should have thought that was obvious?’

  ‘Well, it isn’t, and from what I’ve just seen, Skye’s been kidnapped. You let that happen, so I’m thinking maybe I just go back to HQ and try my luck with people I know.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, Azima, FrakeNews has gone. You got everyone out before they tore the place apart, but I wouldn’t advise you go back there.’

  ‘What do you mean? Who tore the place apart?’ Azima’s voice cracked.

  ‘Come with me now and I will tell you. I promise.’

  ‘Right, sure. Skye was perfectly safe with you lot, wasn’t she?’

  Ophelia stood back and looked around the faces in front of her. ‘Look, we have all lost a great deal today. Friends have been taken, yes, but I am asking you to look beyond that, just for now. It’s a fact that our entire future is being threatened, as is our past. I look at you and, much like what you see when you look at me, this probably isn’t the team we would choose for this battle, but we are where we are. So, Azima, I can’t offer you any guarantees around your safety. I can’t even promise you we will get your friend back, but I can give you my word that you can trust me to do everything in my power to make this right. And at this point, is there anyone offering you a better deal than that?’

  Ophelia began to march away from the café. ‘Right, speeches over. Arses in gear. Let’s be having you.’

  Fitz and Azima looked at each other, grabbed their things and followed her – wherever it was she was leading.

  There was a public toilet just beyond the café, with a sign hanging from the door saying, ‘Closed to the Public’. The powder-red brickwork was cracked and the green painted wood around the building’s frame was peeling away. The small print on the sign told anyone who needed a comfort break that they could find the nearest convenience five minutes’ walk away in Queen Mary’s Gardens. Ophelia slid an old-fashioned iron key into the lock on the big, green door. Fitz noticed as she put the key back into her pocket that it was tied onto a green ribbon and the circle at the top of the key had the outline of a roaring lion’s he
ad inside it.

  ‘Do you hold all your meetings in a toilet?’ Fitz asked, screwing his nose up. ‘I know you said you were low on budget, but man.’

  ‘Everyone in, no more questions for now, please.’ Ophelia ushered them through the door, then closed it and drew a bolt across the top. ‘With me,’ she said as she marched down to the last stall.

  The building clearly hadn’t been open to the public in a very long time. It didn’t smell like a toilet. In fact, Fitz was reminded of the smell in his grandad’s garage: brick dust and damp wood. There were piles of old leaves gathering in the corners of the tiled floor and sitting on the row of sinks was an old newspaper, turning brown and curled at the edges. Fitz carefully folded back the front cover and saw a colour picture of two ice skaters holding medals; the date in the corner said 15th February 1984.

  Ophelia entered the last cubicle as Harry stood against the back wall with Barnaby, giving Azima and Fitz room to peer around the door. Ophelia reached up and carefully took hold of the old flush chain. She turned and faced her two guests, a knowing smile on her face as she placed her thumb over the bottom of the ornate wooden handle. She pulled the flush and held it down. Fitz saw a light move across her thumb, like a photocopier scanning a page.

  ‘No way,’ he said, the beginnings of a smile creeping across his face.