Power

by Joe Craig

  “They miss you,” Viggo replied, a slight smile breaking through. “But apart from that…”

  “When can I see them?”

  “Where do you think we’re going now?” Viggo chuckled. He slammed his foot even harder on the accelerator and the Bentley’s 7-litre twin-turbocharged V8 engine responded with a purr that pushed them effortlessly forwards.

  “And what about Saffron?” Jimmy asked cautiously. The last time he’d seen Viggo’s girlfriend, she’d been bleeding to death from an NJ7 bullet.

  “She’s fine too.” For the first time a genuine smile stretched across Viggo’s face. Jimmy punched the air in triumph. He was so excited about seeing everybody again that he almost forgot about the strip of plastic that was gripped in his fist.

  “Do you have a computer?” he asked at last.

  “Of course,” Viggo replied. “Why?”

  “I saw Eva,” Jimmy explained, holding out the flash drive.

  Viggo glanced from Jimmy’s hand to his face. “Eva?” he gasped. “Did she give you this?”

  Jimmy didn’t need to say anything. Suddenly, Viggo slammed on the brakes and veered over to the side of the road. They were still out in London’s suburbs, but the streets were more built up now and they came to rest under a lamp-post.

  “If Eva gave you this,” said Viggo, fiddling with the air-conditioning controls on the dashboard, “she’s managed to get something out of NJ7 that we have to see. And that means we have to see it right now.”

  He twisted one more dial, which caused a catch to click, and the whole central section of the dashboard opened up. Viggo reached in and pulled out a laptop. Jimmy was impressed and couldn’t hide it.

  “When I was redoing the bodywork on the car,” Viggo explained, “it turned out this thing has secret compartments all over the place. I think there must be some I haven’t even found yet.”

  He hurriedly started up the laptop and took the flash drive from Jimmy.

  “Wait,” said Jimmy. “What if it’s…”

  “Booby-trapped?” Viggo pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. “Don’t you trust Eva?”

  “I do,” Jimmy insisted. “Of course I do.” He wanted to sound sure, but his voice gave away his doubt. “It’s just that, I don’t know…she was trying to tell me something when she gave it to me.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. She couldn’t really say anything, in case it gave away that we’re still on the same side. We were being watched.”

  “Cameras?”

  Jimmy nodded.

  “Jimmy.” Viggo sighed and ran his hands through his hair, obviously trying to weigh up all of the risks. “If NJ7 were watching you, why didn’t they follow you from the institute? Why didn’t they…” he tailed off.

  “I know, I know,” said Jimmy. “Why didn’t they try to kill me then if they could obviously see where I was?”

  “Maybe they couldn’t,” Viggo suggested. “Trust me, if they could have, they would have.”

  Jimmy knew that was true, but something didn’t add up. He couldn’t puzzle it out, and there was an insistent voice in his head telling him that perhaps the answer would be on this flash drive. He quickly gestured to Viggo to plug it in.

  As soon as the drive connected, a video screen popped up. Even with the grainy image, Jimmy immediately recognised his so-called father. The frozen image of Ian Coates made Jimmy feel like a firework had gone off in his belly. Fear, anger and uncertainty fizzed through him, mixed with the old feelings of familiarity that he desperately wished would die.

  Jimmy’s father was sitting behind a table, with the shoulders of the people next to him just visible at the edges of the shot. It looked like a smartly decorated room, but that’s all Jimmy could establish from what was on the screen.

  “Hit ‘play’,” Jimmy insisted impatiently, unable to tear his eyes from the screen.

  With one click from Viggo, Ian Coates burst into life. His eyes seemed to bulge in his head and he swayed from side to side in his chair as if he might keel over at any moment. But it wasn’t the action that was so disturbing, it was the sound. There were only muffled voices at first, but then Ian Coates’ voice cut through clearly.

  “We’re blowing up a tower block,” he said.

  Jimmy leaned in closer to the laptop’s speakers, unable to believe what he’d just heard.

  “We’re blowing up the tower block on Walnut Tree Walk!” Ian Coates shouted. He slammed the table with his fist, causing the picture to judder slightly. “If anybody has any problem with that, they can leave the room now!”

  That was the end of the video clip.

  Eva held herself upright as she strode away from the institute building, even though she felt like crumbling. She pulled her coat around her, wishing it could make her disappear completely. Outside the gate she broke into a run. Twenty metres up the Ridgeway a long, black car slowed to a crawl and the rear door was pushed open. Eva dived in and the car pulled off again without ever having to come to a complete stop.

  The warmth of the car was stifling. Eva had never had to fight so hard to hold back tears, but now it mattered more than ever that she reveal nothing of her emotions.

  “Did he find it?” came a low voice from the front passenger seat. Eva was trembling too hard to answer at first. “Did he believe you were helping him?” the woman in the front asked sternly. She turned in her seat and Eva found herself fixed by a glare from Miss Bennett. “Did he fall for it?”

  All Eva could do was nod.

  12 THE CORPORATION

  Jimmy and Viggo were both speechless. Viggo played the clip again, and even after that neither of them knew what to say. Viggo started the video a third time.

  “Enough!” Jimmy snapped. He pushed Viggo’s hand away and stopped playback.

  “I can’t believe it,” Viggo whispered, all the colour gone from his face. “I knew the Government was evil, but this…this is psychotic.”

  Jimmy couldn’t stop staring at the slightly blurred freeze-frame on Ian Coates’ face. It seemed to be sneering at him.

  “I…” Jimmy couldn’t get any more words out. His chest was heaving, having to strain for every breath.

  “It’s OK, Jimmy,” Viggo tried to reassure him. “He’s not your father. He’s just…”

  “He is my father!” Jimmy shouted. “I might not have his blood, but he brought me up. And he’s definitely Georgie’s father. I can’t believe he’d do this! Why would he do it?” Jimmy couldn’t control his rage. “And why would Eva show me this? Why would she…” He tailed off and ended by slamming the lid of the laptop shut.

  Viggo grabbed him by the shoulders. “Eva knew it would be hard for you to see this,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. “Of course she did. That’s probably what she wanted to tell you and couldn’t. But she also knew you were the only person who could do what has to be done with this video.”

  “What do you mean, ‘what has to be done’?” Even as Jimmy asked the question, he realised what the answer was. There was only one thing they could do with this—make sure as many people as possible saw it. “We need to get this on to the Internet,” he whispered. “When people know—”

  “Not the Internet, Jimmy,” Viggo interrupted. “NJ7 will shut it down one site at a time. A few people will see it, but the impact would be minimal.” He pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and dialled a number. “We need to put this where millions of people can see it in one go. This is what I’ve been waiting for since the day I left NJ7.” He pressed the phone up against his ear. “This could bring down the Government. We need to get this broadcast on TV.”

  At first Jimmy’s anger at his father was overwhelmed by his excitement. Viggo was right—if they could get this clip to be shown on TV even once, it would be too late for NJ7 to cover it up. Jimmy knew how tightly the TV stations were controlled, so it wasn’t going to be easy, but he could already feel his head buzzing, possibilities swirling around, joining together to create a
plan of how it could be done. Then his thoughts shifted. His heartbeat slowed. Those doubts rumbled inside him again.

  “Chris,” said Jimmy softly, but Viggo was already talking on the phone, arranging with somebody to meet them tonight. “Chris, this isn’t right.”

  Viggo ended his call and looked at Jimmy, confused.

  “What if NJ7 wanted me to have this?” Jimmy asked.

  Viggo shrugged. “All that means is that somebody at NJ7 has realised what we knew already: Neo-democracy has to be ended. It’s no mystery, Jimmy. We even know who the person at NJ7 is—Eva. She filmed this and knew straight away that she had to smuggle it out to the rest of the world somehow. And you were the best person to give it to if she wanted to make sure it was safe.”

  Jimmy knew what Viggo was saying made sense, but still he couldn’t dismiss his suspicions. Relax, he urged himself. He only felt uneasy because he’d been used so many times in the past. But this was different. This involved his friend, and whatever her motives, the evidence was in front of him. Ian Coates had ordered the destruction of a London tower block. He’d tried to murder his own people, presumably so he could blame it on the French.

  In any case, it didn’t look like Jimmy was going to have much choice about this. Viggo had clearly made up his mind. He’d started the car and was already pulling out into the road, accelerating at an amazing rate.

  “Listen, Jimmy,” he said, putting his foot down even harder. “It looks like your family reunion is going to have to wait.” Jimmy shot him a questioning look. “I’ve told Saffron to meet us. She’s already working on this.”

  “On what?” Jimmy didn’t understand. Why couldn’t they go to see his family straightaway?

  “Jimmy,” Viggo’s voice was insistent, even a little impatient. “We can’t waste any time. It’s already getting late. If we wait any longer, everybody will be asleep and nobody will be watching TV. And by tomorrow we might have missed our chance.” The lights of the dashboard reflected in his eyes, making him look even more focused. “You’ve found the one piece of evidence that could finally make this country a real democracy again.”

  Jimmy didn’t see why democracy couldn’t wait until after he’d seen his family, but he could tell Viggo wasn’t going to be persuaded. “Whatever,” he said with a shrug.

  “Whatever?!” Viggo blasted. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel in frustration. “This isn’t ‘whatever,’ Jimmy. This is democracy! Don’t you care that your country is being run by a lunatic?”

  Jimmy felt the sudden sting of tears prickling his eyes. He turned his face to the window and watched the boarded-up buildings flashing by. When Jimmy didn’t answer, Viggo filled the silence.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I know you want to see the others. But for all we know NJ7 have already found out that video clip has been leaked and right now they’re doubling all of the security round Corporation facilities. That’s anywhere we could possibly get it seen by the public. They’d shut down the whole of the Internet and cut TV transmission completely.”

  “What?” Jimmy was astounded.

  “They’d do it, as well. The Government wants to stay in power that badly, they’ll simply tell the Corporation to pull the plug on every communications system in the country and nobody could stop them.”

  “They really control everything?” Jimmy asked. He’d heard about the Corporation, and he’d always known about Government censorship, but he’d never realised their grip on what the public saw and read was so strong.

  “They wouldn’t be able to keep power if the Corporation didn’t control people’s access to information, Jimmy.” Viggo sucked in a long breath through his teeth and muttered to himself, “Sometimes I think that’s all power is.”

  Viggo’s foot hardly left the accelerator. He powered the Bentley along side streets and blind alleys, expertly twisting through a maze of minor roads towards the centre of London. All Jimmy could do was marvel at the man’s control and navigation. They didn’t just avoid traffic; Jimmy realised they were travelling along the route monitored by fewest cameras. He was beginning to see how the Government’s greatest enemy could travel through its capital city without being caught.

  Within a few minutes they pulled into an underground car park and finally had to slow down when they reached the security barrier. Jimmy was sure they’d be caught on video now, but straightaway he noticed the security camera had been knocked off target. All it could possibly be recording were the wheels of the car. Then the barrier simply lifted to let them pass. Only then did Jimmy spot a tiny laser scanner fastened to the security bar with an elastic band.

  “It’s crude,” said Viggo, obviously guessing what Jimmy was thinking, “but it works for a while. And by the time they discover all this and fix it, I’ve found a dozen other safe points where I can disappear for a few hours.”

  Jimmy wondered whether he would have known how to do something similar himself. Maybe his programming would have guided him to an even better solution, he thought. At the same time, it was difficult to weigh up his natural assassin instincts against the experience of a man who’d lived on the run for much longer than he had.

  From here it was a short walk to the rendezvous with Saffron—at a greasy spoon café. The place was closed for the night, but when Viggo tapped on the window a light came on and a muscly young man unlocked the door. He greeted them with only a nod before disappearing into the kitchens.

  “You must be a regular,” Jimmy muttered.

  “A friend in the right place can be more effective than a weapon sometimes,” Viggo explained.

  “Any chance of a fry-up?” Jimmy’s stomach growled.

  “Kitchen’s closed.”

  Before Jimmy could react there was another tap on the window, in the same rhythm as Viggo’s. It was Saffron, but she wasn’t alone. When Viggo unlocked the door to let in the newcomers, Jimmy thought the dim light was playing tricks on him. The second person was his mum.

  “Jimmy!” Helen Coates cried out, rushing to hug him.

  “I thought we could use an extra pair of hands on this one,” Saffron explained.

  Jimmy let his mum’s arms squeeze him until he thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Inside, he was numb. He could hear the sound of Saffron and Viggo talking softly, but he was oblivious to their words. It was a full minute before he was able to press enough strength into his arms to hug his mum back.

  Eventually she let him go and held him at arm’s length, drinking in every bit of him with her eyes.

  “Your face!” she gasped, bringing her fingers up to the burns on Jimmy’s cheek.

  “Mum!” he protested, pulling away. He’d almost forgotten he was so burned, but it seemed that the skin was still raw to the touch.

  “What happened?” asked Helen.

  Jimmy didn’t know where to start. He was tempted to roll up his sleeve and show her that it wasn’t just his face, but at the last moment he realised there were probably several things she didn’t need to know about—not yet at least.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Just forgot to put suncream on.”

  His mum shoved him in the shoulder. “Don’t try to be clever with me, mate.” She broke into a huge smile and pulled him close for another hug. “We missed your birthday,” she whispered.

  That was the first time Jimmy felt something cutting through his numbness. It was a sour twist in his chest that made him want to break down in a heap on the floor. Only the warmth of his mother’s embrace kept him upright. He pushed his face into her shoulder to stop himself crying.

  “Sorry to cut in,” said Viggo. Jimmy was startled and felt his muscles tensing up again, holding back his feelings. “Can we save the emotional stuff for later?” Viggo went on. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Hey Jimmy,” added Saffron. “Chris said you didn’t have any shoes.” She tossed him a pair of old trainers and went back to setting out maps, diagrams, scheduling charts and photographs on one of the ta
bles. Then she pulled out a black briefcase containing computer equipment and a huge rucksack full of what looked like survival kit.

  “What is all this?” asked Jimmy, keen to distract himself from the prickling in his eyes.

  “This is the Corporation,” she explained. “They control the only TV transmitters in the country. Every programme is sent back to one of these transmitters so it can be broadcast across the country. Our best chance of getting the video clip seen on TV is to go straight to where the output is broadcast from. The nearest transmitter is on the roof of Corporation House.” She prodded a point on a map. “Regent Street.”

  Jimmy looked across the photographs of the building set out in front of him.

  “It would be easier to hijack one of their vans,” he suggested. “You know, like the ones they had outside the hospital for the news report.”

  “It wouldn’t do any good,” Saffron replied. “Whatever we did in the van would still have to go through one of the Corporation transmitters if we wanted anybody to see it. We might have control of their van, but they’d still decide whether we got on to anybody’s TV screen or not. That’s why we have to hit them at Corporation House, and hit them fast.”

  Jimmy’s mind was whirring, relieved to be thinking about something other than being reunited with his mother. But he couldn’t see how this was going to work.

  “Even if we get into the building,” he said, “how are we going to make them put the video clip on TV? I might be able to work out how to use the equipment. I mean, probably, with my…you know…”

  “It’s OK, Jimmy,” Viggo reassured him. “We won’t need to use the equipment.”

  “Hold on,” Helen cut in. “It sounds like we’re going to have to hold a whole studio hostage.”

  Viggo tipped his head from side to side. “We might have to…” He paused, searching for the right words. “…persuade one or two people to work for us, on a temporary basis.”

  “They’ll shoot us,” Helen declared, obviously aware of the shock value her words would have. “This is the Corporation. It may as well be NJ7’s private TV company. We’re not talking about the Disney Channel here.”