by Nick Cook
‘You did?’ Dad asked.
‘How did she react?’
‘Claire was of course shocked to learn that you were alive, Martin. There was quite a lot of colourful swearing, the meanings of some of which I had to look up. Anyway, I’ve arranged for us to meet her at a cafe in the Royal Festival Hall on the South Bank. Despite all the checks I’ve run on her, it’s still better if we meet her somewhere public.’
My brow furrowed. ‘In other words, it’s best to be paranoid?’
‘Precisely,’ Sentinel replied. ‘I’ve asked Claire to bring the spare parts we need for Waverider. Also, now I’m connected to the internet again, I started searching for a data hole in the network coverage over London, but so far there’s no sign of one.’
‘Does that mean there isn’t a DEC in London after all?’ I asked.
‘Not necessarily – it may just mean their new DEC hasn’t generated a big enough portal yet to cause any major interference. If that’s the case, we may have a bit longer to locate it than I first thought.’
‘At last, a small bit of good news,’ Dad said.
‘So how long till we reach a harbour in London?’ I asked.
‘Thirty-one minutes and thirty-three seconds…’ Sentinel paused. ‘Hang on, I’m picking up an interesting broadcast that you’re going to want to hear.’
A woman’s voice came from a laptop’s speakers. ‘This is the BBC News. The police have just revealed that terrorists are responsible for the small bomb explosion in Big Ben, which caused damage to the clock faces. Security has been tightened around the capital…’ The voice faded out.
‘So that’s why they did it. The capital will be on lockdown now, making it easier to attack the population.’
‘Plans within plans. Pure Shade tactics,’ Sentinel said.
Before I could respond, a movement through one of the portholes caught my attention. A black-and-white boat with a blue flashing light surged towards us.
Clarke rushed into the cabin. ‘That’s the river police. I don’t need to tell you that there are arrest warrants out for most of us, courtesy of the Shade’s influence on the government, not to mention…’ He waved his hand towards Allan’s covered body.
I was on my feet. ‘What should we do?’
‘They’ll probably just give us a close look and sail by,’ Clarke said. ‘Kelly has said that she’ll try to deal with them, but the rest of us should keep below deck until the coast is clear.’
As Clarke closed the door behind him, I flicked off the cabin lights, plunging us into darkness. We listened to the growl of the police launch’s engine growing louder.
A searchlight stabbed through the night. I could see Kelly silhouetted in its beam through the cabin door’s window.
A voice amplified by a speaker boomed out, ‘Moon Dancer, where are you headed?’
‘St Katherine’s Dock, as usual,’ Kelly called back.
‘You’re off to the theatre again, Kelly?’
We exchanged startled looks, but we shouldn’t have been surprised, I realised. Kelly had told us that she used to come to London all the time, obviously frequently enough that the river police knew her by name.
‘Yep, it’s a hard life,’ she called back.
‘It’s all right for some,’ the man’s voice boomed back. ‘But that must have been one hell of a crossing. Nothing else is sailing at the moment. It’s a miracle you didn’t sink out there.’
‘Just a lucky old sailor, I guess.’
We heard the policeman on the boat laugh. ‘That’s the understatement of the century. Anyway, you should have a relatively smooth sailing from here on in. The storm is holding off over London for now.’
‘That’s what I wanted to hear.’
‘Safe journey. But please do us all a favour and stay moored up till this storm blows through.’
‘Aye, aye, captain.’
Another laugh. I guessed she had snapped the guy a salute in reply.
The searchlight flicked off, plunging the cabin back into utter darkness. With a surge of gurgling noise, the launch began to move away.
Kelly cracked the door open. ‘OK, everyone can relax. That was just a social call. I know most of the police along the Thames.’
I shook my head. ‘You could have warned us—’
I suddenly gagged as red-hot needles pierced my brain. The world began to spin as a deafening cry of pure anger filled my ears. Gemma.
Bile flooded up through my gullet, but as quickly as it had come, the cry vanished.
Dad took my arm. ‘Are you OK, Jake?’
I gulped in air, the needle pain already receding into a dull headache. I nodded.
‘What happened, lad?’ Clarke asked.
‘Gemma was in my head…’
I could still feel the echo of her fury vibrating through my bones as I sucked in more air.
‘But she’s gone now?’ Sentinel asked.
I rubbed my temples. ‘For now.’ But something else inside me felt wrong. I stood to get myself a glass of water, but almost toppled over.
Dad grabbed me. ‘Steady, Jake. Are you sure that you’re OK?’
Beyond my thudding headache, part of me felt missing. ‘I’m not sure…’
‘I suspect that was some sort of psychic attack through this mental link you both seem to share with each other,’ Sentinel said.
An attack? An impossible and awful thought struck me. ‘Hang on, let me check something.’ Despite my headache, I tried to focus enough to shift myself.
Absolutely nothing happened. I tried again, screwing my eyes shut this time. But there was no Shadowlands, no Light Web – nothing but the Real.
Dad peered at me. ‘Jake?’
‘I think it’s Gemma. She’s jamming my ability to shift.’
‘No wonder they wanted to seize Gemma if she can do this,’ Sentinel said. ‘And if you can’t shift, none of your other powers will work either.’
‘Does that also mean Jake can’t stabilise Waverider’s field now?’ Dad asked.
‘I’m afraid so, Martin,’ Sentinel replied.
I looked down at Chloe and dropped my head into my hands. ‘This can’t be happening.’
‘But unfortunately it is,’ Clarke said, his voice calm and way too professional. ‘The question is: what are we going to do about it?’
Kelly opened the cabin door and stuck her head in, oblivious to what had just happened. ‘We’re approaching the Thames Barrier. I’m going to radio ahead to confirm which channel we need to sail through.’
The cabin suddenly seemed impossibly small and suffocating. Every part of our plan was falling apart.
‘I need some fresh air,’ I said.
Clarke got up and put his arm across the doorway. ‘We should remain out of sight until we’re safely moored in the harbour, Jake.’
‘Please… I need to clear my head.’
He slowly nodded. ‘Of course, lad. But try to stay hidden in the cabin doorway so you can quickly slip back inside if necessary.’
‘Deal.’ I opened the door, stepped into the cool night air and drew in a breath.
Kelly crossed back to the yacht’s cockpit and picked up a mic on the side of the radio. ‘Hi, Barrier Control. This is yacht Moon Dancer. Can you advise me which channel to sail through?’
‘Hi, Kelly. Take the right-hand one. You’ve only just made it. We’re expecting a storm surge of high tide to arrive at any moment and we’re about to close the barrier.’
They knew her name? It seemed that everyone around here did.
‘Understood.’ She spun the wheel and our yacht turned towards the last open route in the barrier.
The shining metal structures slid past, towering over us like silver giants.
‘It looks like some sort of massive modern sculpture, doesn’t it?’ Kelly said.
I managed a vague nod. I just didn’t care at that moment.
As we cleared the barrier, a wedge of metal slid up from the Thames behind us with a hydraulic who
osh, water cascading from it in mini waterfalls.
I huddled into my jacket as Moon Dancer sailed through the drizzle towards the shimmering lights of central London.
After having successfully docked Moon Dancer in St Katherine’s Dock, hidden away right next to Tower Bridge, a courier had turned up in the harbour to deliver a bright, shiny and very powerful new smartphone to me – courtesy of Sentinel making an online order, of course. It meant we didn’t need to take a laptop – I could carry another of his micro minds with us as Dad, Clarke and I rode in a black cab to meet Claire. Kelly had agreed to stay behind to look after Chloe, because there was no way we could leave her alone.
As our taxi crossed Westminster Bridge, I glanced back towards Big Ben and the enormous tarpaulins that had been stretched over the clock tower’s damaged faces. The image of Chloe battling the shadow birds circled through my mind. The Shade would have almost certainly moved her trapped consciousness the moment that I’d managed to escape. But where to?
I rubbed my temples.
The constant low-level headache hadn’t eased since we’d entered London. I’d tried a few further attempts to shift, but they’d all failed spectacularly. It seemed that Gemma jamming my ability was anything but temporary. And that was making me feel increasingly anxious.
Dad looked back along the river towards Tower Bridge in the distance. ‘I wish we hadn’t had to leave Chloe and Kelly behind.’
Clarke frowned as he peered out of the taxi’s windows. ‘With the Shade running around London, it makes sense to be paranoid at the moment. Somebody needed to stay behind and look after Chloe, to keep Waverider safe and…’ He let his words trail away.
To guard Allan’s body… I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Keep a clear head, Jake, and don’t let those emotions rise up…
‘How’s your injury, Inspector?’ Dad asked.
‘I’ve had better days.’
I focused on Clarke – anything to avoid listening to the churn of my own thoughts. ‘You really shouldn’t have come, Inspector.’
‘Well, that’s my decision isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.’
He gave me a withering look, which I guessed he also used on criminals.
Our black cab turned on to a side road and we swept under an orange-lit railway arch. The taxi pulled in at Waterloo Station, where crowds of people hurried past. I glanced at my watch – 6 p.m. – the middle of the daily rush to get home.
Dad paid the fare as I helped Clarke out of the taxi. I inwardly winced when I noticed he was using Allan’s walking stick to support himself.
‘Welcome to one of my favourite parts of London,’ Dad said. He gestured around us. ‘This is the South Bank and that large concrete building over there is the Royal Festival Hall. That’s where we’re meeting Claire.’ He slicked back his hair with his hand as he started to climb some steps.
I cast a wary eye over the crowds flowing around the building as I followed him. A bubble of anxiety was growing inside me. I’d already been labelled a terrorist once, and London was covered in cameras. With the heightened security situation after what had happened at Big Ben, no doubt they would be even more closely monitored than usual. I pulled my hoody up over my head.
Clarke glanced at me, his expression a question mark.
‘Just feeling a bit paranoid,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘Good. Paranoia is what may well keep us all alive and out of the clutches of the Shade today.’
We reached the glass doors of the Royal Festival Hall and entered a large open space where a band was playing jazz music. Around the bar area, hundreds of people sat chatting, drinking and laughing. It was another world away from mine. This felt safe and ordinary – normal people out having a good time. My unease started to release its grip on me.
A woman in her early forties jumped up from one of the tables with an excited yelp and rushed over to us. She was casually dressed in a jumper and jeans, her long blonde hair tied back with a band. She had the clearest pool-blue eyes and a face with the warmest smile. She flew to Martin and flung her arms round him.
‘My god, Martin, can that really be you?’ she said with a soft Irish accent. ‘I thought this might just be someone’s idea of bad joke.’
Martin hugged her. ‘It’s me, Claire, as large as life.’
‘And looking as if you haven’t aged a day. Just as handsome as always.’
Martin squeezed her arms. ‘And you look great too.’
‘You old flatterer.’ She frowned. ‘But how is any of this possible? You hinted at all sorts of things on the phone.’ Claire stepped back and took in the rest of us. Her eyes widened at me. ‘This can’t be your son, Jake, can it?’
Dad smiled. ‘It most certainly is. I guess you haven’t seen him since he was a toddler…since Mary died.’
A cloud filled Claire’s expression, but it was gone again in a second. ‘Oh my goodness, Jake, you’re the spitting image of your mother.’ She offered me her hand.
I shook it. ‘It’s good to meet you, Claire. Dad has told me next to nothing about you.’
‘That’s probably just as well, with all those stories from our university days together.’
Dad sighed. ‘I’m sure you’ll make a point to fill Jake in with all the sordid details.’
‘I definitely will. Your dad was quite the party animal back in the day, Jake.’
I felt a smile tugging on my lips. It was hard to think of Dad being that guy.
Clarke stepped forward. ‘I’m Inspector Clarke, but please call me Paul.’
I had to stop myself staring at him, imagining what Chloe would say if she were here: ‘Oh my god, the guy actually has a first name!’
‘Charmed to meet you, Paul,’ Claire said. ‘I’m guessing that means the police are already investigating what’s been going on?’
‘Not officially. You could say this is something of a private matter for me.’
‘I see… In that case, you had better tell me everything. I’m sensing there’s a lot to explain.’ Claire looped her arm through Dad’s and herded us back to her table. ‘Even though so much bad stuff has been happening too, I think this calls for a celebration so let’s order champagne.
My headache pulsed and I grimaced. ‘A Coke will do for me, thanks.’
‘Then Coke for you it is, but first…’ She pulled her chair up and, resting her chin on her hand, gazed intently at Dad. ‘Over to you, my dear friend.’
Dad spread his hands wide and threw me a lost look.
‘Just start at the beginning and work from there,’ I suggested.
He nodded, leant forward and began.
Chapter Fourteen
Dad, Clarke and even Sentinel, via my new phone placed on the table, had totally blown Claire’s mind as they’d briefed her for over an hour. Her eyes had grown ever wider when she’d learnt the true story of the original DEC experiment, the Shade, and how Sentinel had activated a gene in human DNA to Awaken Chloe and me. But she’d taken the news of Dave’s and Allan’s deaths particularly badly, since she’d known them both, and there’d been quite a few tears and toasts to their memories.
While they’d talked, I’d stared out of the window, my thoughts stuck on Chloe’s unconscious body back on the yacht. Now, thanks to Gemma jamming my abilities, how was I going to be able to save her?
Claire stood up. ‘Can I get anyone another drink from the bar?’
Clarke settled back into his chair. ‘If you’re going to insist, a whiskey would be most welcome.’
‘Good man. I’ll get you a decent Irish malt. Martin?’
‘No, I’m good.’
She smiled at me. ‘Come on, Jake, give me a hand.’
‘No problem.’
I stood and she hooked her arm through mine.
As we walked away from the others, she gave me a sideways glance. ‘I hope you don’t mind me abducting you like this, but I thought you might need a bit of a talk.’
> ‘You did?’
‘I know you’ve only just met me, Jake, but I’ve lived long enough to be able to see when someone is really hurting inside.’
‘It’s that obvious?’
‘You couldn’t look any more broken if you tried.’
My shoulders sank into my body. ‘I can’t get out of my head what happened to Allan.’
‘Me too – and I didn’t have to witness it, unlike you.’
‘It was one of the worst moments of my life. I wish I could just scrub the memory from my mind.’
‘I know, I know. And you haven’t had any time to grieve either. That’s going to take time – lots of it.’
‘And then there’s Chloe—’ my voice caught.
Claire rubbed my arm.
I breathed through my nose. ‘She should be standing here, not me.’
‘You would trade places with her and have your consciousness trapped by these awful things called the Shade?’
‘In a heartbeat.’
‘You love her that much?’
‘Yes, I guess I do.’
Claire nodded. ‘Of course you do, Jake. But you do also realise that if it were Chloe standing here rather than you, I’d be having this exact same conversation with her?’
‘I guess.’
‘I know so – based on what the others have told me about her.’
‘Which part exactly?’
‘That she loved you enough to put her life on the line for you.’
I avoided her eyes, which seemed to be peering deep into my soul. I wandered over to a large window to look out at the crowds strolling along the embankment.
Claire’s reflection came to stand beside me. We stood in silence for a moment, gazing out together at people going about their lives as though the end of the world wasn’t just round the corner.
Claire finally patted my arm. ‘Life, huh?’
‘Is beyond tough.’
‘Sometimes it most certainly is. But whenever you need to talk about it, please know you can always chat to me.’ She sighed. ‘Martin was never that great with this sort of emotional stuff. Not that he doesn’t care, just that he’s too locked into those crazy ideas spinning through his mind. Your mother, Mary, was one of the few people who could bring him out of himself.’