by Andy Briggs
Dev slung the kitbag over his shoulder as he led Lot and Mason down the ramp. To anybody watching, it would have looked like they’d stepped out of thin air. Dev scanned the dark park, while Lot had her nose in her Inventory-issue mobile phone.
“So thirteen-and-a-half million people live here,” said Lot with an exasperated sigh, “and we’re supposed to find one specific guy?”
“How hard can it be,” said Mason flippantly.
“Uh, guys, we have company!” said Dev as a uniformed guard ran from the shadows, shouting in Japanese.
“Can either of you speak Japanese?” asked Mason.
Dev was about to make a joke back when he realized he could. They all could. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wireless headphone piece. He shoved it into his ear the same moment the guard shone a torch into Dev’s eyes. Instinctively, Dev raised his hands to shield his eyes, with the bonus effect of covering his face.
“You are trespassing!” snapped the guard, his voice being translated from Japanese in real time. The only problem was it didn’t translate Dev’s own voice, so any response in English probably wouldn’t be understood. “You are under arrest!”
Great, thought Dev. They’d only been here thirty seconds and already they were in trouble. His fingers moved over his watch, which was in fact quite special – the smartwatch that other smartwatches longed to be. It communicated directly back to base and to the Avro behind them.
Colours flashed in Dev’s vision and he heard pleasant digital chimes. They weren’t real; they were the effects of his synaesthesia ability, audio and visual guides that allowed him to navigate the smartwatch by touch and sense alone. In a split second his watch sent the command to the aircraft’s main computer.
The guard reached for his radio, intent on reporting the intruders. He had raised it to his mouth when Dev deactivated the aircraft’s cloaking device – and the Avro materialized behind them. The guard’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.
Mason raised his hand and pulled his face in the most grotesque gurn he could. Then he croaked in the most alien voice he could conjure up. “We come in peace, earthling!”
The guard keeled over backwards, having passed out from the shock of his close encounter.
“We come in peace?” Dev laughed as they hurried down the street. He still had tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Always wanted to say that,” grinned Mason.
They had spent ten minutes dragging the guard back to his little security booth and propping him in his chair. They hoped that when he woke, he’d assume it had all been a dream. The ship was invisible once again, now hovering out of human reach, and any surveillance cameras in the area would have automatically been “mysteriously” blanked by the aircraft’s stealth technology.
Lot used the map on her phone to guide them down a network of streets, and the buildings around them became taller, illuminated with signs and brand names. The streets themselves became increasingly busy and loud as the roads widened and the traffic increased. With so many people around, nobody questioned three young teenagers strolling late at night.
Lot glanced up from her phone. “According to the intel report, this Christen person should be staying in that hotel.” They all looked up at the sleek tower rising before them. Dev let out a low whistle.
“That’s got to be fifty or sixty stories tall.” The promise to himself about avoiding heights was proving more difficult than he had hoped. “So if the stolen item is in there, do we just walk in and get it, or do we wait for this Christen to leave and follow him – hopefully to the item itself?”
Lot and Mason exchanged a look, then shrugged. They hadn’t been given a plan during the briefing, and the flight had been so short – ultrasonic, according to Eema – that they’d arrived before thinking to discuss the next steps.
“I think we need to ask some questions,” said Dev, pressing the phone option on his smartwatch. In seconds he had opened an encrypted secure communications channel to the Inventory command bunker. “Well, uncle, we arrived in one piece. Now what?”
Silence. Dev wondered if he hadn’t programmed the channel correctly. “Uncle Parker?”
Eema’s voice cut in. “Your uncle isn’t here at the moment, Dev.”
Dev felt uneasy. “Where’d he go? Don’t tell me he’s gone to the toilet the one time we need his help.”
“He has left the Inventory for a while.”
Dev could see the concern on his friends’ faces. This was highly irregular. “What about Sergeant Wade?”
“There is nobody here, Dev.”
“Then who’s in charge?”
There was a slightly amused tone to Eema’s reply. “I suppose that would be you, Dev.”
Dev had always complained about not being trusted with the tech in the Inventory, but to actually be handed total responsibility for his second mission was, frankly, irresponsible.
Dev couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Simple. Retrieve the item and return it to the Inventory. What’s the problem?”
Dev considered replying, but instead stabbed the disconnect button on his watch. He was fuming that Eema was proving to be so unhelpful. He looked back up at the building.
“Knowing my luck, I bet he’s on the very top floor. What do you think we should do?”
Lot nudged him playfully in the arm. “Well, we’ve come all this way. It would be a shame if we didn’t cause some trouble.”
Mason nodded. “We spent all that time trying to break out of the Inventory.” He nodded towards the hotel. “It’s gonna be fun breaking in somewhere.”
Despite his anger, Dev couldn’t resist Lot’s infectious smile. He grinned too. “Let’s do this. Let’s find this guy. And if he has our stuff, he won’t have it for much longer.”
The trio spent the next hour drinking milkshakes in the fast-food restaurant opposite the hotel. They dreamed up elaborate plans to determine which room Christen was staying in. Complicated diversions and risky acrobatics were considered and numerous films and books were referenced as they planned their daring break-in.
In the end, Lot had thought to ask Eema to hack into the hotel’s computers, only to discover that Dev had been right all along: Christen had indeed booked the penthouse suite on the very top floor.
From there it had been a very simple process. They walked into the hotel lobby with their kitbags slung over their shoulders, smiling and acting as if they belonged there. Nobody stopped them; everyone just assumed they were guests. Dev had used his gift to trick the elevator into accepting his hand as an electronic key card, and in seconds they were in the express elevator.
Lot pouted. “That was a bit too easy.”
“Yeah,” said Mason. “This breaking-in lark is a lot easier than busting out of somewhere.”
“Easy is good,” said Dev. “Easy is our friend.”
The next part of the plan was the most risky – breaking into Christen’s room. They were hoping it was empty, though, as Eema had checked the hotel’s key card logs and seen that he had swiped out of the room.
Again, Dev used his hand to spoof the room’s key card sensor. He pushed the room door open, and they entered.
“Two visits in two days,” said the Collector with a hint of a smile. “Why, Charles, you are beginning to make me think you really need me.”
Charles Parker slid a thick pile of papers in between them. The Collector gave a quizzical frown.
“Paper? How unenvironmental.”
“Handing you an electronic device seems a little extravagant.”
The Collector was forbidden any technology for fear he would find some way to manipulate it into escaping. Instead, Sergeant Wade had spent several hours assembling and printing all the information.
“This is everything we have on Shadow Helix’s latest operations,” Charles said, his jaw clenching as he inhaled a deep breath to steady his nerves.
The Collector stared a
t the pile. His adapted eyesight allowed him to read through each layer individually, with no need to turn the pages.
Charles leaned back in his chair. “Feel free to share any insights you may have about their intentions.”
“You are sending the boy to retrieve the artefacts?”
“Of course. He’s on a field mission as we speak.”
The Collector’s head tilted up, curious. Then he continued reading. “Ah, yes. Here it is. Japan? You have sent him there?”
“To track down a fellow named Christen Sandberg. Would you happen to know how Mr Sandberg came into possession of stolen material?”
“I haven’t heard of him before, although his file is quite impressive. As for how he came into possession of the artefact, he would have been selected especially. His ego, pride, lust for glory – they all make him a perfect candidate for somebody they can easily manipulate.”
“For what purpose?”
“That depends on what item he was given.”
Charles hesitated, then indicated to the papers. “It was an item that was not catalogued correctly.”
The Collector’s face lit up in delight. “Not catalogued correctly? My dear Charles, how is such a thing possible? You were always one with an attention for detail. So you don’t even know what the misplaced item is?”
Charles’s face became rigid; he refused to let the criminal see he had hit a nerve. He patted the file. “The details are in there.”
The Collector’s lips parted in a smile. “You have at least told Dev who is selecting these scapegoats for Shadow Helix?”
Charles was good at keeping his face blank. Too good. The Collector saw through his uncertainty in an instant.
“You don’t know?” It was almost a gasp of astonishment. “You haven’t even worked out who has taken my place at Double Helix’s side while I fester in here?” The prisoner leaned across the table with a sense of urgency. “Does the name Kardach mean anything to you?”
Charles Parker hesitated. “Jim Kardach invented Bluetooth wireless technology.”
The Collector stared at him. “Really? That is all you have to say? Your mind is confused by all the secrets you keep. Never once wondering if they need to be kept at all. You should warn Dev immediately. He is about to walk into a whole new world of trouble. This is when things start to turn nasty.”
“Nice,” said Lot, looking around the opulent suite.
A large leather couch was positioned by an oval glass table, both of which sat before a panoramic window that filled one entire wall, offering up a twinkling sea of city lights stretching to the horizon.
Dev headed straight for the table. “Spread out. Keep an eye out for anything that looks as if it’s linked to the Inventory.”
Mason headed for the bedroom, and moments later Dev heard a gasp of wonder; another splendid room lay beyond. Lot headed for the open-plan kitchen and started peering in the bin.
“I hardly think he’d bin technology of the future,” Dev said testily.
“I’m looking for clues. You know, ones they tried to get rid of? Or may have got wedged behind the sofa?”
Dev got the hint and dropped to the floor, peering under the couch.
Mason suddenly ran in from the bedroom, his face flushed with excitement.
“What did you find?” asked Dev.
“The toilets over here!” gasped Mason, catching his breath. “They speak to you – and even wash your bum!”
Dev blinked at him in surprise. “No way!”
Lot coughed for attention. “Uh, Dev? You live in the Inventory, with thousands of gadgets . . . and a toilet impresses you?”
“Our loos are broken most of the time,” he said sheepishly. “Since they put in those biological ones, we’ve had trees growing out of them every time you take a—”
Lot slapped down a pile of shredded paper on the kitchen counter to cut him off. “Well, while you geniuses think a bog is the best thing you’ve ever seen, I found this.”
“Scrap paper,” said Mason, crossing over. “Impressive.”
Lot ignored him as she straightened the papers, revealing a mass of individual strips. “Must be something important if he took time to shred it.” She carefully laid a few strips out, trying to see if they’d match to form more of the page.
“Let me,” said Dev, stepping in. He took a picture of the strips with his smartwatch, and within seconds the strips on his screen had been reassembled into the correct order.
“Wow, you have an app for that?” said Lot – then corrected herself. “Of course you do. The Inventory’s got everything!”
Dev shrugged. “Or, in this case, ninety-nine pence well spent from the Download Store.”
The reconstructed image on Dev’s screen was a map of Tokyo, with an address written at the bottom as well as a time – 22:00.
Dev glanced at his watch. “Eighteen minutes from now.”
Mason toyed with the paper fragments. “That’s a pretty low-tech way of keeping a secret.”
Lot shook her head. “It’s perfect. It can’t be hacked, there are no duplicate files and, if he’d thought to burn the evidence, it can be deleted without a trace. My dad says sometimes old school ways are the best.”
Dev was studying the map. “It’s not far from here. We might be able to get there if we hurry.”
The business district behind Shinjuku station was a nest of high-rise towers, amongst which the Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower stood out – a futuristic marvel of white steel woven around gently curved glass walls. The streets around here were a lot quieter than those nearer the station.
The hissing brakes of a bus caught the trio’s attention as it pulled up to an empty stop across the plaza. Nobody got on or off, but the driver waited patiently, maintaining his schedule.
Then a squeal of rubber made them spin around. A black van skidded around the corner and pulled up opposite them some twenty metres away. The side door slid open, and the unmistakable figure of Christen Sandberg stepped out with a case. He didn’t even look around before placing it on the pavement. After unclasping the latches, he opened the case and began assembling the green plastic components inside.
Dev, Lot and Mason hadn’t moved.
“He looks a lot bigger than on his picture,” hissed Mason. “He’s killed loads of people too,” he added, more quietly.
“That looks like some kind of futuristic rifle,” Lot added with a tremor of concern. “I guess that’s the tech we’re supposed to retrieve?”
Dev realized they were waiting on his instructions. He cursed the fact that his uncle had forbidden him from taking the Iron Fist mech suit, something that was designed to go up against weapons that would otherwise easily kill them. The kitbag Eema had provided was a joke when it came to weapons.
Christen finished assembling the gun, thumbed a button, and easily lifted it up, aiming it at the tower. The rifle whined to life, and the orb hanging from the barrel began to glow. From the indicators on the barrel, it was clearly charging up.
“Dev. . .?” urged Lot.
Dev gathered his courage. He pulled the plastic cylinder of what looked like marbles from the kitbag and stepped forward.
“Hey, you!” In retrospect, Dev realized it wasn’t the most intimidating opener he could have come up with.
Christen turned his head and frowned. “Beat it, kid.”
“I can’t let you do . . . whatever it is you’re doing,” said Dev lamely. He sounded like the worst cop in the world.
Christen laughed and turned his attention back to the building. The rifle had nearly finished powering to life, forcing the big man to shoulder the weapon’s rapidly increasing weight.
Frustrated, Dev looked to his friends for support. Mason gave a toothy smile, a thumbs up and a nod of encouragement.
Dev took out the SHOK-BALLS!TM container, gave it a short, sharp shake, then spilled the contents towards Christen. A dozen steel balls rolled along the pavement. The moment they hit Christen’s feet a powerful sp
ark zapped out and struck his ankle.
Christen howled in pain, stepped back on to another ball – and received another powerful shock. He stumbled, triggering more and more of the SHOK-BALLS!TM in a succession of jagged orange sparks. The sparks from the balls were so powerful that the bottom of Christen’s trousers began to smoke and smoulder. Dev could see why the balls were banned.
Still, Christen kept his balance and didn’t drop the gun. Instead he turned the barrel towards Dev, his mocking smile now replaced with an expression of rage.
He pulled the trigger.
Dev hit the deck a fraction of a second before a shimmering wave of gravitons passed overhead. It arced across the plaza and struck the bus. Dev waited for an explosion, but instead he watched in surprise as the bus lifted into the air, still encased in the shimmering beam. The panicking driver just had time to leap from the open door as Christen moved the gun – effortlessly guiding the bus through the air.
Straight towards Dev.
Christen controlled the range using a small toggle next to the trigger, drawing the vehicle closer – and then swung the entire gun down, mimicking the strike of a hammer.
Dev threw himself against a low wall as the bus crashed down with such force that the front quarter of it concertinaed into a mass of twisted metal and smashed glass. He felt the rush of air from the impact, and threw his arms over his head to protect himself from the shower of safety glass. Luckily the wall took the force of the impact; otherwise, Dev would have become a pancake.
With a bellow, Christen angled the gun, raising the bus high in the air. Clearly he wasn’t finished with it – or Dev.
“Hey, idiot!” screamed Lot, waving her arms over her head. “Over here!”
Christen scythed the gun in an arc sideways, and the crumpled vehicle flew through the air in a corresponding motion, centimetres off the ground.
Lot and Mason ran for their lives as the bus, now angled on its side, smashed several lamp posts, trees and a couple of benches as it thundered straight towards them. They reached the safety of the train station entrance just as the bus crumpled sidelong into the building – too large to fit through the gap.