Prediction

by Tony Batton

  Fifty thousand volts of electricity surged from an onboard battery, flowing through the grip and into her body. Screaming, she staggered back, collapsing to the floor, unable to move.

  Cortez walked calmly over. "Sorry about this, my dear, but you’ve been asking far too many difficult questions."

  Kelly lay on the floor, her muscles on fire.

  "If it’s any consolation, you were on the right track. Our modelling suggested you would make the connection to me within a few days – far sooner than our schedule will allow."

  "Do you work for Rose?" Kelly gasped.

  "You don’t really believe that, do you?

  Kelly grimaced. "You work for whoever launched the drones." Her eyes narrowed. "I’ve seen you before. You’re the auditor. Your face is different but I recognise the walk."

  "Impressive." The woman beamed. "Although we both know that I’m no more an auditor than I am a security guard. Unfortunately for you, with that level of attention to detail there's only one course of action open to us. No hard feelings, eh?" Cortez picked up the smart-rifle, unchecking the safety. "Well, in just a moment there won’t be any feelings at all."

  Kelly moaned, flexing her fingers against the ground as Cortez aimed the weapon in a leisurely manner. Just as she saw her finger tighten on the trigger, she shouted, "Override Gamma One Zero One."

  The woman’s eyes widened and she started to throw the rifle away.

  She was fast. But not quite fast enough. Her body twisted and she screamed as the electricity flowed again. She stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, her glasses falling off.

  Kelly managed a faint smile before consciousness faded.

  Kelly didn’t know how long she was out. All she was aware of was pain as she woke. She struggled to raise herself up on her forearms, trying to remember where she was. Then she saw Cortez sprawled nearby, the rifle still clutched in her right hand.

  Other than the faint rattle of an air-conditioning unit, there was no other sound in the warehouse. With a grunt, Kelly forced herself to sit up. She had to get out of here. She had to warn Jenson of what had happened. Fire coursing through her body with every movement, she tried to stand. And failed. Cursing she tried again. On the third attempt she made it. Hissing with every step, she staggered over to Cortez.

  The woman was sighing as she breathed.

  Kelly kicked the rifle away. It skidded over the concrete and came to rest against a wall. But Kelly had no doubt this woman would be dangerous without the weapon. She needed to create an advantage. The most obvious one would lie in the equipment cache. But as she turned, she saw that it had closed and was emitting an angry red glow. Muttering, she recognised it as a familiar ZAT protocol. If secure storage wasn’t locked down, it went into secure mode for twenty-four hours, so what else could she do to control the situation? Turning she looked for something to use as a restraint. On a nearby shelf she found a box of zip-ties. She grabbed several and walked back to where her assailant lay.

  Cortez opened her eyes. "Hello again."

  Kelly hesitated. "Don’t move."

  "Or you’ll shoot me? Even if you had a gun, I hear that’s not your thing."

  "What?"

  "I know about your military past. Why you were discharged. After that debacle I’m amazed you ever worked again."

  Kelly frowned. "Save your words for the authorities; they might reduce your sentence. I’ve already called them, by the way."

  Cortez smiled. "I find that unlikely. Your phone was almost certainly fried when the rifle shocked you. And even if it wasn’t, I’ve jammed all cell signals in the area."

  "How would you—"

  "I come with a certain level of resource. And, like I said, I know everything."

  "But you didn’t know everything about the rifle."

  "And that is annoying. But this is not over."

  "It is for you."

  "We’ll see." Cortez sighed. "Look, I still can’t move, so if you’re going to tie me up, get it over with."

  Kelly narrowed her eyes. "This is a trick."

  "There are many tricks, but this is not one of them." She rolled on her side and put her wrists behind her back. "Anyway, it only seems fair to give you a head start. Because I will come after you. And I will kill you. Nothing personal. For now, you should thank me."

  Kelly knelt and pulled the zip-tie around Cortez’s wrists. "And why is that?"

  "I saved your client’s daughter. The one you’re so fond of. In the barn." Cortez smiled. "It was quite a scene, I can tell you."

  "Did you hire those men?"

  "It’s a little more complicated than that."

  "What game are you playing?"

  "A very long one."

  Kelly’s eyes narrowed. "You’re stalling."

  Cortez nodded. "Good old-fashioned deduction. I’d run if I were you."

  "Why give me a warning?"

  "Because I like the chase. I’ll see you soon, Astrid. Watch for me."

  Kelly clenched her fist, drawing it back to swing at Cortez. Then she hesitated.

  Cortez smiled back. "I thought not. Now run."

  It was still dark when Kelly emerged from the warehouse. Her mechanical Rolex told her that it was just gone 3am. She ducked behind a car and tried to see if anyone was watching the warehouse. Did Cortez have other people about to arrive? And who the hell was she with? Wary of breaking cover, she decided to watch for a little longer while she apprised Jenson of what was going on. She pulled out her phone, but as Cortez had predicted it was dead.

  With one last look around, she began to jog along the road towards her Vauxhall. There was a twang, a vibration in the air. Something thin and straight, about a meter long, struck the car’s front tyre. With a squeal, it deflated.

  An arrow.

  Kelly took a step back and looked behind her. A silhouetted figure stood on top of a van next to the warehouse: a slim woman, holding a bow.

  "I did say I’d see you soon," Cortez said.

  "You missed."

  "I wanted to make sure you didn’t just drive off."

  "What is this, the Middle Ages?"

  In a blur, Cortez had nocked another arrow, and it was humming through the night. It struck the car’s rear tyre and, again, there was a scream of compressed air escaping. "Most satisfying, wouldn’t you agree?"

  Kelly didn’t wait to hear any more. Instead, she ran. She wasn’t sure what was going on or who she was fighting.

  She knew only one thing: she had to survive. Then she could warn Jenson. She wasn’t ready to give up, not by a long shot.

  She ran away from her car, south towards the river, hoping that Cortez might be caught off guard by the sudden change of direction – and that a moving target would be a lot harder to hit.

  Another arrow flexed in the night and struck a street lamp directly above her, shattering the glass cover. Kelly leaped forward to avoid the fragments as they fell. Behind her, she was aware of a figure moving fast.

  Cortez’s voice floated in the darkness. "Full disclosure: I’m not trying to hit you. Not yet."

  Kelly increased her pace. Gritting her teeth, she turned down an access alleyway between two apartment blocks. At the end, she reached a paved walkway: a gentrified towpath along the Thames. Each way wove between the support columns of overhanging residential apartments. Her only other option was straight ahead and jumping in the Thames.

  She turned left, moving east along the path, going downstream. Behind her the pursuit seemed to have gone quiet. If she could cover a bit of ground she could get to a minicab company in Wapping where she knew one of the drivers. He owed her a favour, and she would make sure he remembered it. She went to glance over her shoulder again, then froze.

  Her pursuer was in front of her. How?

  Cortez tipped her head, then raised the bow, an arrow at the ready. "What are the chances?"

  Kelly frowned. "Are you really in charge? Maybe you don’t have the authority to kill me. Maybe your orders say something
else."

  "It’s a great theory. Unfortunately for you I have a great deal of latitude in how I carry out my role." Cortez scowled. "Anyway, I think I’ve had enough now. So I’m going to count to ten. And then I’m going to shoot you." She pulled out an arrow.

  "You’ll shoot me in the back, if I run?"

  "It’s all the same to me."

  "How did you manage to get ahead of me?"

  "I told you: I know everything. And you can’t beat someone with perfect information."

  "Just how are you getting this information?"

  "Well, that would be telling." Cortez moved in a blur. The arrow was on the bowstring and flying towards Kelly before she even realised it. There was no time to dodge.

  This is it, Kelly’s brain told her. I’ve lost.

  The arrow grazed her shoulder. A slight sting, nothing more.

  She looked up. "Today is a day of surprises. Looks like that was your last arrow."

  Cortez didn’t move.

  Kelly blinked. "What are you waiting for?" And then she started to feel it.

  The sting became a burn. Her limbs felt heavy. Her eyes began to water.

  Cortez walked towards her, smiling. "Do you understand now?"

  "Some kind of poison?" Kelly felt her mouth go dry. She was losing control of her body.

  "A bespoke neurotoxin. Coded to your biochemistry. You can already feel the way things are heading."

  "You’re a…" she staggered and fell to one knee, "monster."

  Cortez ducked down and caught her before she collapsed, lifting her on to the stone wall. Below the black waters of the Thames heaved and slapped hungrily. "The perfect monster you could say," she whispered.

  Then she dropped Kelly into the river.

  Kelly would have gasped as she hit the cold water, but the toxin had already made her too numb. Everything went black.

  Cortez stood on the towpath watching her victim floating downstream, a sequence of graphics and text streaming across the inside of her glasses. A red icon flashed. With a grunt, Cortez shouldered her composite bow and pulled out a secure phone. "Thought you were too busy to track my ops?"

  "My attention," Marcia replied, "goes where it is most required, hence my call. Would you care to explain what is going on?"

  "Complications at the warehouse. I have it under control."

  "And yet you are not in the warehouse. You were told to intercept Ms Kelly and take her out of the equation."

  Cortez pulled carefully at her earlobe. "Somehow the system did not pick up that the rifle’s security feature could be used multiple times."

  There was a pause. "The system isn’t perfect. Which is why we’re changing things."

  "Until we do, complications will happen."

  Marcia’s voice remained even. "Maybe you should accept that a larger team would be advisable."

  "And maybe I shouldn’t be tied down by a group of unreliable meatheads."

  There was a longer pause. "Your primary glasses were damaged?"

  "I had a spare set available. My backup team released me."

  "And then you chased the target alone through open streets?"

  "Given the hour, the risk was minimal. The alternative was to let her escape."

  "The alternative was to consult me. You cannot keep going off-book. You have to follow the plan."

  "You use me because I serve your bigger plan. Otherwise you’d use someone else. In fact, for all I know you expect me to go off book. Maybe that was the plan."

  The pause this time was extended. "I need you to be predictable so that everything else is."

  "Fine. What does the system tell you now? What’s next?"

  "A thank you. Dinner on me."

  "Anywhere particular?"

  "What do you think?"

  Thirty-Nine

  Gregory Jenson, wearing jeans and a pullover, stood leaning on the handrail outside the lions’ enclosure at London Zoo. Inside lay several females, none of which spared a glance for the crowd. They looked bored, but ready to explode into action if given the chance. Jenson could empathise.

  "Greg, I hardly recognised you," said a familiar voice from behind his left shoulder.

  Jenson turned and extended his hand. "Max, it is a pleasure to see you today."

  Errington smiled. "I’m here to help."

  "And I’ve got quite the challenge for you." They moved away from the lion enclosure, past a small cafeteria and towards the monkey habitat. Jenson cleared his throat, then spoke in a low voice. "This place used to cheer me up until it occurred to me that maybe the animals weren’t happy about being in cages."

  "Happiness is all about perspective," Errington replied. "Is this really a good place to meet?"

  "It’s pretty hard to operate surveillance: there’s ticketed entry and it’s a large site away from other buildings, plus there’s plenty of background noise from the animals."

  "You don’t trust your own offices? Who have you upset?"

  Jenson narrowed his eyes. "What have you heard?"

  "Nothing. Just a guess based on a great deal of experience. I've been round that block more times than I’d care to admit."

  "That’s why I have need of your skills."

  "Then tell me everything. And I’ll see what I can do."

  They walked on, reaching the polar bear enclosure as Jenson finished explaining the situation. The huge white animals looked even more bored than the lions.

  "What’s your opinion?" Jenson asked.

  Errington scratched his nose. "I have no doubt there’s a whole load of crap that Saxton hasn't told you, quite apart from the crap that you haven't told me."

  "Thanks. I knew you’d be motivational."

  "The good news is that Infinity can help you."

  Jenson folded his arms. "I want to believe you, Max."

  "No government plans to spend a billion on a project that doesn’t matter – or that suddenly stops mattering - without everyone understanding why. Something else is going on." He paused. "Plus, with the drones it seems you’re the victim here. Yes, there’s a lot we can do. I know Saxton from way back. He has certain… buttons I can press."

  "Great. But how quickly? They want me to cease all development."

  Errington frowned. "Your research is all centred at your HQ. What about an alternate location? Somewhere a little less high profile."

  "You’re suggesting I ignore Saxton’s instruction to kill the project?"

  Errington held up his hands. "As your lawyer, I would never say that. But if you were to infer that it would be harder for them to keep track of what you’re doing at a different site, that’s up to you. It’s your choice." There was a soft chiming sound and Errington pulled his phone from his pocket. He glanced at it and frowned.

  "Another client? Another problem?" Jenson asked.

  "Both," Errington replied. "The former wants me to pay her a visit to discuss the latter. Which means I have a flight to catch and a lot of stuff to set in motion for you before I do." He put the phone back in his pocket. "Decide how you’re going to play the development issue. Meanwhile I’ll get my people pouring over the government order, exploring all the angles. Send me over your project files and correspondence. This is the moment you start fighting back."

  Jenson nodded. "Don’t pull any punches."

  "You think we’re only going to punch them?" Errington smiled. "They should be so lucky."

  Forty

  Regina Rose stood on the deck of the Evolution as the small motor launch made its approach between a number of larger leisure craft moored in Marseilles’ harbour. On deck she could make out a familiar figure in a suit. The man who was going to help her solve her problem. The man who had changed the rules on her behalf so many times.

  The launch docked gently and Rose descended the steps as Maxwell Errington navigated the gang-plank. "You're looking well, old friend," she said, shaking his hand.

  Errington patted his stomach. "That’s arguable. I’m certainly eating well."


  "Then I trust my chef won't disappoint if you'll stay for dinner."

  "Having come all this way? I should hope I will. Always happy to spend time on my yacht."

  Rose raised an eyebrow. "I took your suggestion for a name. That doesn’t mean you own her."

  "Let a man dream."

  "As long as I’m not paying for it." She turned and led the way to her private office. Two heavy-set, visibly-armed bodyguards followed them in, closing the door and taking up positions to either side. Rose poured two large glasses of cognac from a decanter.

  Errington took one glass and glanced around. "What’s up, Regina? You look like someone who just had three lots of bad news."

  Rose indicated two large leather armchairs. "It’s a matter of some sensitivity."

  "I’m sure that describes most of your business these days. I assumed that’s why I haven’t seen you in London for some time."

  "There’s always the risk that the authorities will insist on speaking to me, probably in a sound-proof room with no windows."

  "Perhaps if you paid a few more taxes they might back off."

  "And that," Rose said, "is why I never come to you for financial advice. I've had men shot for less." She flashed her teeth.

  "Then I'm pleased I am your friend."

  "Good, because as your friend I need a favour."

  "Of course. Although I should stress that my friends still get billed for favours."

  Rose gave a snort. "Last week there was an attempted kidnapping in your country of a young girl."

  "It was all over the news. She was very lucky." Errington shifted in his seat.

  "I believe you know Mr Jenson."

  "We’ve had dealings in the past. But I shouldn’t think he can even remember my name."

  Errington frowned, face suddenly grave. "Did you have something to do with his daughter being taken?"

  The bodyguards shifted involuntarily but Rose raised her hand and they stepped back. "I’ve heard you know Jenson rather well indeed."