by Stephen Cole
‘… so you tell me, Coldhardt,’ Street raged on, ‘you ever learn to live with yourself? You ever look back and feel good for what you did?’
Coldhardt stared back at him, his voice measured, eyes placid. ‘To be honest, Street, I’m wishing I’d killed you when I had the chance instead of giving you a flesh wound.’
Street swung the gun round and aimed at Coldhardt’s head. ‘Don’t give me that. You meant to kill me.’
‘You fired the first shot,’ said Coldhardt, frighteningly calm. ‘And Saitou fired the second. I shot back to save my own life but I had no desire then to take yours.’
‘Lies!’ Street screamed.
The whispers and gasps in the gallery grew louder; someone called out in protest. Saitou quickly hit Street on a pressure point in the small of his back, striking a nerve so that the gun clattered from his fingers. Street cried out, then rounded on his partner. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘You need to step back,’ said Saitou tersely. ‘We didn’t spend all this time planning for you to ruin everything with your goddamn temper.’
‘Have you forgotten how it felt?’ Street turned from him and addressed the gallery now as if trying to win the audience over to his side. ‘Thirty-two years ago Coldhardt shoots the real Heidel, not some shite imitation … then he helps himself to the boss man’s money and screws us out of every penny. Blows up the systems, wipes out every last file, every last trace of him …’
‘And that’s precisely what we’re going to do to you, Coldhardt,’ Saitou interjected. Tye sensed how anxious he was to regain control of both Street and his big event. ‘Computers have come a fair way since the 1970s, but we’re inside your networks right now. We’ll be helping ourselves to all those little offshore bank accounts of yours, and splitting the proceeds between the members of the consortium …’
‘And I suppose you’ll be getting that information from the microprocessor you concealed in that rather splendid gold ring of mine,’ Coldhardt surmised. ‘Is that so?’
Tye felt her insides twitch as Coldhardt climbed determinedly to his feet. Nervous mutterings started to build around the arena, and judging by Bree’s frown and the look Saitou and Street shared, things were once again going not-as-rehearsed.
‘Don’t make out you knew about it,’ Street began savagely. ‘It was hidden –’
‘– beneath the enamel, yes,’ said Coldhardt, wiping the blood from his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘Naturally, I’ve moved any sensitive files to a non-networked computer. My experiences with you both taught me never to take anything at face value.’ He straightened to his full height, nodded to Heidel’s gory corpse. ‘Take him, for instance. I’ve known for certain he was a fake ever since you and your “Scribe” visited my safe house at Chamonix.’
‘Sure you did.’ Saitou sneered, but Tye saw him glance nervously up at the displeased crowds above.
‘The footage my Talent took of your impostor in action only made me more certain,’ Coldhardt went on. ‘But I couldn’t tell them that because I knew that Jonah Wish and Maya Marisova had been bugged – despite dear Dr Draith assuring me of their rude health.’
‘Sure, you knew all that,’ said Street, ‘and still you came blundering in here.’
‘Once I saw you in the surveillance footage outside the auction house, of course I realised you were involved. But, like Saitou, you lack the imagination to contrive such a splendidly sordid affair on your own. You would have needed help and funding.’ Coldhardt straightened his collar and glanced round at the onlookers. ‘I was intrigued to know who my greatest enemies were. Though I must admit I didn’t expect to find quite so many of you in attendance …’
‘That’s enough,’ snapped Saitou. He gestured to Bree, who spoke into a tiny radio, and a few moments later Tye saw two robed guards enter the arena from two different tunnels. Each was armed with electric shock prods. ‘Whatever you claim you knew,’ Saitou went on, ‘you were still a fool to come here alone.’
‘But I’m not alone, am I?’
Tye was still concealed beneath her robes but Coldhardt looked straight at her and smiled.
‘I sent my Talent here ahead of me.’
‘You betrayed them!’ Bree objected.
No, thought Tye, the hairs on her neck rising, that’s what you said he did. She wondered for a moment if she were dreaming, if should pinch herself at this point; but the arrow point in her back was pinch enough, and already Tye’s every muscle was tensing for action. She shrugged off her hood and he nodded to her – a nod she took to mean Be ready.
Coldhardt seemed to have taken control of this little gathering – and the onlookers weren’t liking it. The guards with the prods stepped closer to him uncertainly.
‘Kill him now,’ someone shouted.
‘Gloating’s getting us nowhere,’ a woman added.
‘She has a point,’ said Coldhardt drily. ‘And I’m a busy man, so –’
‘Just shut it, Coldhardt.’ Saitou flexed his fingers as if getting ready to put them to use. ‘You’re mine now.’
‘Ours,’ said Street thickly, picking up his gun. ‘You know what, Coldhardt? You’re going to apologise to us for all you’ve done.’
Saitou looked up at Tye. ‘And you’d better mean it.’
Coldhardt looked down at the crushed orchids at his feet, stooped to pick up one that was intact. ‘I’ll always be sorry for what I did that day,’ he said quietly, and Tye could see at once he did mean it. ‘More sorry than you could know.’
‘Oh, we can know a lot of sorry,’ Saitou’s smile was chilling as his fingers curled to dangerous points.
Coldhardt nodded. ‘But if I hadn’t killed Heidel, he would have killed me.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Street sneered.
Facing up to the gun, still gripping the orchid, Coldhardt stepped towards them. ‘How’d you think I knew for certain your Heidel replacement wasn’t for real? If Nomen Oblitum had him in their care for thirty years, if he’d talked about me every day, if his thirst for revenge was so very unquenchable … don’t you think he’d have told them what he never told you? The same thing I tried to tell you that day it all fell apart … only you were too busy trying to kill me for all that you believed I’d done.’
‘He’s tapped!’ jeered Street, but Tye could tell he was speaking angrily to mask his nerves. ‘Trying to talk his way out of –’
‘Heidel wasn’t just my boss,’ Coldhardt snapped, his words ringing out around the ancient rock. ‘He was my father.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
For a second, no one spoke in the arena, as Coldhardt’s words bounced around the bare rock. His father? Street and Saitou were staring, disbelief written all over their faces.
But even from this distance, Tye had seen the flash of pain in Coldhardt’s eye and knew he was straight on the level.
Then she noticed that the guard with the prod who’d been standing nearest Coldhardt was moving slowly, purposefully towards Bree and the Scribe. The other guard was edging closer to Saitou and Street. With a jolt Tye saw that these guards were wearing Converses. She bit her sore lip, not daring to hope. It couldn’t be …
But Sadie must have seen them too. She couldn’t shout a warning but her bolt would scream for her. The girl’s face pressed up to hers for a moment, dark eyes burning, mouth twisted in a savage grin. Then Tye gasped as she was shoved to the ground, as Sadie leaned forward with the crossbow.
Desperately, Tye scissored her legs tight around Sadie’s ankles and lifted them with all her strength. Sadie fell forward and toppled right over the balcony rail. She plummeted to the ground ten metres below, hit heavily. The impact must have triggered the bolt. Tye heard the murderous whoop of its flight through the air …
And a thunk as it embedded itself between Saitou’s ribs. Saitou gave a hoarse cry and staggered sideways under the weight of impact.
‘As good a cue as any,’ Coldhardt shouted, and thrust his orchid into Street’s face. It was clearly no
ordinary flower – Tye saw a cloud of white mist spray out from inside the petals. Choking, clawing at his eyes, Street sank to his knees.
At the same moment, as the gallery filled with noise and scuffling feet, the guard behind Bree zapped her with the electric prod, stunning her. Then he quickly grabbed her in an arm lock with one arm and pulled off his restricting hood with the other – it was Motti. The Scribe started forward but Motti jammed the tip of the prod into Bree’s ear.
‘Back off,’ he spat, glaring round at anyone else who might try to rush him. ‘Or it won’t be pretty.’
‘Let go of me,’ Bree hissed, as Saitou groaned, clutching his side. ‘He needs medical help.’
‘Aw, I think I just cried the world’s smallest tear,’ said Motti. ‘Now tell these assholes to drop their guns!’
The guards hesitated, looked to Bree for guidance. She nodded curtly, and the guns were duly thrown to the ground.
Con had already shrugged off her own heavy crimson robe and dropped her own prod to grab one of the fallen weapons. Tye watched her friend fire awkwardly into the air to bring those in the gallery to order.
‘Everyone be still,’ Con yelled, ‘yes?’
Tye wanted to call out to her and Motti but suddenly realised how vulnerable she was. Many people up here – Draith for a start – must know she was part of Coldhardt’s team and so prime hostage material herself. She held still for now, not wanting to draw attention.
‘I’m blind! Damn it, Coldhardt, what did you do?’ Street shouted, rubbing furiously at his eyes. ‘I can’t see!’
‘Just a little pepper spray variant,’ said Coldhardt briskly, looking down at Saitou’s prone body. ‘I knew I couldn’t smuggle a conventional weapon in here, but with an atomiser hidden in the bloom and a nylon wire threaded through the stem …’
‘Show’s over now, folks,’ Motti shouted up at the winding gallery. ‘We’re getting out of here so everyone stay nice and –’
‘No!’ Street bellowed. ‘Nobody’s leaving till we finish this.’
‘It is finished,’ said Coldhardt, and did Tye imagine the note of regret in his voice? ‘And so are you.’
‘Guards,’ snapped Bree suddenly. ‘Change of orders. Pick up your guns and shoot Coldhardt.’
Motti scowled and tightened his grip on the prod. ‘You crazy?’
‘They’re thieves, not killers,’ Bree ground out, ‘they don’t have the guts. Do it!’
‘No!’ Con fired at the discarded guns on the ground, sent rock and shrapnel flying. But the Scribe had circled round Motti and Bree and now grabbed Con from behind, wrestled her over backwards. Con’s finger was still on the trigger and the gunfire raked upwards, bullets slamming into the rock walls and the balcony.
At once, total, bloody pandemonium broke out.
The gallery erupted as the onlookers upped and ran – Every evil bastard for himself seemingly the order of the day. For a few seconds the noise of the gunfire drowned out everything. Stone chips peppered Tye’s back, and her wrists burned as she strained against her cuffs. Someone stepped on her ankle, and she rolled desperately to the edge of the balcony for cover to avoid being trampled.
Then the firing stopped. What the hell was happening down there now? Staring out through the stone balusters at the war zone below, Tye found her eyes flicking between different scenes of chaos, as if channel-hopping on Mayhem TV.
Lithe and catlike, Con was fighting the Scribe and another guard both at once, trying to keep them from the weapons on the ground, but –
flick
– out of her reach, another guard had scooped up his rifle. He aimed it at Coldhardt, but Motti shoved Bree savagely into the line of fire –
flick
– which left Motti with no shield and another two guards coming for him. Motti managed to zap one with the prod, sent him staggering back into his mate, then ran for the thrones at the back of the arena, diving for cover as a hail of gunfire exploded all around him and –
flick
– Coldhardt was hugging the ground behind Saitou’s body as Street went on bellowing with helpless anger, as –
‘We can take the old man ourselves!’ one man shouted as he started down the staircase to the arena. ‘You with me?’
And at his words Tye jumped out of her terror trance, felt a rush tear through her, as if her body was suddenly nine parts adrenaline. If these onlookers joined in, some of Coldhardt’s biggest enemies … She was up on her feet and running for the staircase before she even consciously realised it. Even with her hands behind her back, she had to do something. Bree would have the keys to the cuffs, so if Tye could get to her …
She forced her way down the steps through the scrum of bodies, saw Draith was just ahead of her, trampling a woman who’d stumbled in his haste to get down. ‘You’re a doctor!’ she shouted in outrage, as if this might shame him into helping anyone.
‘He’ll kill me,’ Draith gasped hoarsely, hobbling out into the arena. ‘If we don’t kill him first.’
She charged after him, had almost caught him up. And then his gaunt frame danced suddenly in a storm of bullets. He pitched forward, and Tye hurled herself to the ground beside his body. Peeping over Draith’s bony shoulder, she saw with horror that Street had got hold of an M16 and was firing wildly and sporadically in a sweeping semicircle, still blinded by the pepper spray. All around, consortium members danced and jerked in a gruesome, bloody ballet as bullets tore into their bodies. Behind her Sadie’s limbs twitched with stray impacts, each movement rippling the black-red moat widening around her broken skull.
‘You’re not beating me again, Coldhardt!’ Street shrieked, his eyes streaming.
‘Stop it!’ Bree yelled behind him, now struggling with Con. ‘You idiot, Street, you’ll kill us all!’
Feeling sick and frozen inside, Tye shut her eyes and curled up tight as a child, trying to make herself as small a target as possible as the ground was shot up in shards all around her, as the madness went on.
Jonah felt a sense of rising elation as he ran towards the arena with Maya. They’d just taken control of Saitou’s computer systems. This whole island would be going offline soon, no communications, no lights, no security – nothing. He couldn’t believe they’d got away with it – but if Patch truly was still alive, then that was the real miracle. This was just luck.
Luck that could run out at any time.
Jonah skidded to a halt at the sound of running footsteps ahead, coming their way. He motioned to Maya to hide in an alcove in the wall, while he did the same on the opposite side.
They needn’t have worried. The Scribe ran straight past them, his robes soiled and bloody, a dark-haired woman trailing behind him. ‘Saitou’s got guards on the perimeter,’ the Scribe was saying. ‘We’ll get back-up …’
‘Looks like things have kicked off in there,’ said Jonah.
‘Come on,’ said Maya simply.
They hurried along the tunnel, the rattle of gunfire echoing weirdly as they grew closer. Jonah swore under his breath. He knew Coldhardt’s plan now, and flying bullets weren’t a part of it.
More people fled past them. Jonah followed Maya to the tunnel’s end, looked out into the arena – and almost hurled his guts. It was a massacre. Dead ahead, facing away from them, Street was firing an M16 in deranged, screaming sweeps. Corpses lay scattered like the blood-spattered flowers, and Jonah was afraid to study them too closely for fear of recognising someone he cared for. Bree was yelling something, sat astride Con, who struggled beneath her. And close to Jonah’s right, about the only guard left standing was firing at the thrones. He saw someone hiding out down there.
‘Motti,’ he breathed, a sense of helpless panic rising. ‘What can we do?’
‘Want to know a secret?’ Maya looked at Jonah, her eyes dust-grey. ‘Follow me quickly, while Bree and Street are distracted …’
I’m going to die, I’m going to die, Jonah thought, tearing after Maya, terrified that any moment Street would t
urn and the bullets would tear into them too. He watched as Maya ran up behind the guard and jabbed her fingertip against his neck, while striking him around his kidney with the flat of her other hand.
She can do it too. Jonah just stared. Saitou’s trick.
The guard froze, still clutching the gun but apparently unable to fire it. Then Maya raced on towards the thrones, and Jonah hared after her. They reached Motti, chucking themselves behind the thrones.
Jonah stared at her, shaken up. ‘Just who the hell are you, Maya?’
‘Skip it,’ said Motti, sparing Jonah the tiniest nod in greeting. ‘Right now, how the hell are we gonna save our family?’
Body tensed, still hugging the ground and straining against the cuffs, Tye couldn’t help but wonder if she was already dead and this was her hell – the gunfire going on for ever. He’s got to run out of ammo soon, she told herself. He’s got to.
Then the firing broke off. Bree’s bellow filled the ringing silence that followed. ‘Street, for the last time – put down the gun!’
Street lowered the rifle. He looked exhausted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. ‘Can’t … bloody see …’
‘Give me the gun and I’ll kill Coldhardt!’
‘No!’ That was Con. Tye raised her head cautiously and saw her friend flat on her back, writhing underneath Bree, trying to stop the girl from reaching for Street’s rifle. ‘Coldhardt, run!’
Tye scrambled up from behind Draith’s body and sprinted over to help. At the same time, her heart leapt to see Jonah, Motti and Maya racing towards Con and Bree too, from the opposite direction.
Closer than either group, Coldhardt got up from behind Saitou’s body; for a few supercharged seconds it seemed they would all converge on Street and Bree, save Con and kick some collective ass.
But a sudden flash of movement showed Tye that Saitou wasn’t out for the count after all. He propped himself up on one elbow and reached out, grabbing Coldhardt’s ankle with gory fingers. With a cry of pain, Coldhardt fell down.