Something strange was coming over me. Alongside the utter paralysing fear, there was . . .
Curiosity?
No way. I’m not going to search for the source of the monstrous noise.
Come on! How bad could it be?
Really bad. Quite seriously, terrifyingly, ‘sob for Mum and collapse in a pool of whining bad’ bad.
Wimp.
I’m not a wimp. Most definitely a not-wimp. And anyway, seasoned not-wimps would probably balk at this.
Plus, mission to do.
With this conflict still rolling around in my head like a pair of battling tomcats, I stood up and walked gingerly to the edge of the platform. The roar didn’t come.
Maybe it’s gone away.
As if on cue, it came again. I shivered. Being hot and shivery is a very strange feeling.
You were saying?
Shut up. I said ‘maybe’, didn’t I?
Definitely one of the worst sounds I’ve ever heard.
Yeah? What was worse?
The worst sound, then.
This whole debate was putting me further on edge so I looked defiantly away from the roar and took off into the darkness. This was easy now, especially compared with the sewers. No trains, no stinking human waste, just the smell of dust and ageing metal, and me, and my light. All I had to do was follow it.
The journey took about twenty minutes and I used it to go over the plan yet again, as well as my last short conversation with Sharon.
‘Love you,’ she whispered.
‘You too,’ I said, willing my voice not to shake. ‘Take care of yourself. See you afterwards.’
Connor had said nothing. Not even ‘good luck’.
My last conversation with Kloe kept coming back to me as well, but this I forced myself to ignore. It wouldn’t do me any good. Purpose turned the air around me to ice and I emerged from the tunnel with the plan carved into my mind, like an incantation into living rock. I could visualise the words, every step. I was ready. I flew up through the station with my coat flapping in that strange processed breeze, and Skank and Maguire met me at the entrance, dressed in the black uniforms of Department 9 soldiers. I didn’t ask how they’d disposed of the suits’ owners. Daryl was there too, dressed as himself, which threatened to make their disguises slightly redundant, but I didn’t have the heart to say so. They led us to the truck they’d commandeered and Skank drove us towards our destination, or as close as we could get to it at any rate.
‘Right,’ said Maguire. ‘We don’t move until we have confirmation that the others are in place. Now let’s go over it again.’
‘Really?’ said Daryl. ‘I think if anyone needs it repeated at this point, we should probably call the whole thing off. Actually, that’s not a bad plan . . .’
‘Let’s go over it again,’ repeated Maguire, slowly and with more of a growl in his voice. Daryl made a face at him behind his back, and I tried not to giggle.
‘No problemo,’ I said, as chirpily as possible. ‘Concealed entrance down to Site One. You guys can get past the computers, but because of the high alert there’s also a big patrol and a bunch of soldiers. I create a distraction while you two do your lock-picking thing with the laptop, then I follow you down and we go in and do some smashing.’
‘Well done,’ said Maguire.
‘I learn fast,’ I said. ‘Especially when I go over plans every five minutes for what feels like years.’
Maguire looked ready to say something snippy, then thought better of it. We sat in silence for a while, waiting, and Skank smoked several cigarettes. Finally I decided to try breaking the ice. ‘What’s your origin story then, Maguire?’
‘Eh?’
‘Your history. Maguire’s Tale. How’d you come to be General Custer-ing this little assault?’
‘Not sure it’s your business.’
‘It isn’t. I’m just interested.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to see you as a rounded human being rather than an irritable Scot with a master plan.’
‘I warned you about that lip . . .’
‘How long have you lived in London?’
Maguire looked exasperated, but shook his head in resignation. ‘Twelve years.’
‘What did you do before this?’
‘If you must know, I dealt cocaine and heroin. Mostly heroin.’
That stopped me. ‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘Yep. I was one of the city’s biggest suppliers of illegal narcotics. That’s how I met Box, he used to be my . . . right-hand man, I suppose.’ My expression must have betrayed me because Maguire shook his head as though I were unbearably naïve. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘don’t start judging me or whatever you’re doing with that face. Yeah it’s a scummy disgusting vile drug and nowadays I’d lamp anyone who tried to shoot it in front of me. But it’s what I did. Box persuaded me to get out, in the end. We got clean together, then Box told me about these rumours he’d heard. Showed me enough to make me want to get involved.’
‘But why? Why did you want to get involved? Why fight them?’
Maguire frowned, but it wasn’t an irritated frown. It was more like he was trying very hard to find the right words. ‘I . . . to begin with, to be honest, it was just the idea of saying a big fuck you to . . . to some embodiment of “the man”. You can imagine what an enticing prospect it was for an angry, directionless guy with skills. A huge conspiracy, an evil corporation, corrupt government figures. And the more we learned about them, the more I realised that this world’s not ours any more. It hasn’t been for a long time.’
‘Ours?’ said Daryl.
‘People’s,’ said Maguire. ‘Ordinary people. It belongs to the Angel Groups now, to the big conglomerates, big pharma and big oil and the military-industrial complex. Profit and secrets. The revolving door of corruption, politicians and lobbyists crawling in and out of one another’s pockets, selling anyone and everyone up the river. Not one of them ever met a principle they couldn’t abandon, a scruple they couldn’t look past. And the more I learned about this mass of unaccountable scumbags, the more I wanted to smash ‘em to bits. To see what happens next.’ He laughed grimly. ‘Probably going to be absolute mayhem. But you know. Phoenixes, ashes, blah blah blah. Be interesting to see what emerges from the anarchy. Funnily enough, when we brought Fitz on board, Box recruited him from a gang of self-styled anarchists. And did those pathetic wee bastards want to help us lay down some real anarchy? Proper honest-to-God smash the system stuff? Did they bollocks.’ He shook his head, looking like he wanted to spit on the floor to emphasise his point. ‘Anyway. So eventually we found Skank, and then you bunch of weirdos. No-one else wanted to know. No-one gives a rat’s arse about what these bastards do, so long as it doesn’t get in the way of them doing exactly what they want to do when they want to do it. People just want a quiet life.’
‘I sympathise,’ said Daryl, darkly.
‘Not saying I’m on the side of the angels, by any means,’ said Maguire. ‘Don’t want to paint myself as a crusader for democracy and transparency and truth or whatever. I’m not a particularly moral guy, although seeing what the Angel Group’s been doing to those empowered certainly turns my stomach . . . but what I have got coming out of my arse is conviction. Which is in pretty short supply these days. So it seems as though I might as well make use of it.’ He looked at me, and I felt like there was actual respect there, maybe for the first time. ‘I think you’ve got it,’ he said.
‘Hope so.’
Maguire smiled a smile that you wouldn’t want to encounter down a dark alley – or a brightly lit one, to be fair – and glanced at Daryl. ‘And I’d like to read your tell-all biography sometime.’
‘Not much to tell,’ said Daryl.
‘Oh, I’m sure there isn’t,’ said Maguire. ‘Talking beagle fighting an evil corporation. Nothing juicy t
here.’
Daryl offered a polite laugh, but it was painfully obvious that this was not a subject he wanted to talk about. Maguire shrugged. ‘Fair enough, if you don’t want to get into it. I’m not one to pry, generally. One question, though?’
‘Shoot.’
‘Why do you want to fight them? The Angel Group?’
Daryl’s eyes flickered to his paws very briefly, then back up to the Scotsman. ‘Reasons,’ he said.
‘Fair enough.’ Maguire suddenly put a hand to his ear. ‘Fitz?’
‘What’s going on?’ I said.
‘Earpiece,’ said Skank. ‘Woops.’ He handed me a small piece of plastic and showed me how to insert it in my ear.
‘Feels weird, doesn’t it?’ said Daryl.
‘I’ll say. Where’d you get these?’
‘All the guns and equipment come from acquaintances of myself and Maguire,’ said Skank. ‘Not all people you’d necessarily want to associate with. Maguire’s got his reputation, which is how he can get so much stuff. And I’ve got wads of cash. The two go together quite nicely.’
‘So I’ll be able to hear everyone else?’ I said. ‘Eddie and stuff?’
‘No,’ said Skank. ‘Sorry. We decided that having everybody tuned to everybody would be far too confusing, far too noisy. Worse than multiplayer Call of Duty. We can talk to everyone within our own groups, and the group leaders can hear each other too.’
Group leaders.
Don’t remember voting for them.
Ha ha.
‘Right,’ said Maguire. ‘Go time.’
‘Distraction o’clock?’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ said Maguire. ‘And . . . well. I had an idea about that, if you’re up for it . . .’
OK, maybe I was wrong about this not being fun.
If you’d not known that they were guarding something, it would have looked like a load of army types hanging about a bleak industrial ground doing not much of anything. They’d set up a huge perimeter fence around the area and there were three trucks and roughly twenty soldiers, and what looked like some kind of mobile command centre next to a large tent. The soldiers were a mixture of regular army and the Angel Group’s black-clad Department 9 special forces types. I couldn’t help but wonder how much the regular army ones knew about the others, or if it was just a case of ‘shut up and follow orders’.
As for me, I was standing some way away from the main gate, next to a car that I’d quietly brought with me.
A tall fence. Oh dear. However will I bypass this fiendish security device.
I jumped into the air and pulled the car up underneath me, rising about thirty feet off the ground. Then, standing on its roof and striking an appropriately stylish pose, I sent both of us hurtling through the air and over the gate. I heard yelling, heard the first bullets, and ducked down, the wind whipping harshly at my skin. Keeping a bubble around myself to deflect the bullets, I surfed the car through the air, tense, ready, three seconds, two seconds, one second . . .
NOW!
I relaxed control of the car and stepped off its roof, staying in the air, and the vehicle kept on going, right towards the centre of the three parked trucks. Soldiers scattered, and I gave one slower one a psychic helping hand so he wouldn’t be crushed. The car bashed right into the side of one truck and they bounced away from one another, spinning and shedding broken glass and pieces of warped metal all over the black snow. Beyond the confusion, I saw a pair of soldiers and a galloping white blur disappear into the tent by the mobile command centre. ‘We’re going in,’ crackled Maguire’s voice in my earpiece. His was the only voice I could hear. Kind of wish I knew what was going on with the others. AAARGHSHITGUNS—
Soldiers were firing at me. I kept my bubble around myself and started to fly this way and that, up and down, dipping and diving as fast as I could, twirling, serpentine. This was a risky strategy, as complicated flight took a lot of concentration and at any moment I could potentially let a bullet slip through my psychic shield, but I just kept thinking focus focus focus come on now the practice pays off WOAH AHHH GRAB THAT GUY THROW HIM OVER THERE OK focus focus come on AAH DODGE GO OVER THERE NOW OVER HERE UP THERE PICK UP ALL THAT WRECKAGE THROW IT OVER THERE OK focus focus . . .
Maguire’s voice in my ear: ‘We’re in!’
Oh thank Christ. This is really stressful. ‘OK!’ I said. Right. Onward. I swooped down towards the ground, as low as I could get, then abruptly pulled up and hammered it towards the big tent, bullets zipping past me. I threw as many mental punches as I could, knocking soldiers off their feet and skirting battered vehicles. Into the tent, over three unconscious soldiers and down through the concealed entrance, a circle in the floor giving way to a spiral staircase. I could hear soldiers pursuing me, running, shouting, shooting, but as I disappeared through the hole the hatch slammed shut behind me.
Skank, Maguire and Daryl were at the bottom of the staircase, in a very long corridor that lead further downward. ‘Well,’ said Daryl. ‘That was . . . incredibly dangerous.’
‘You can handle yourself pretty well, for a beagle,’ said Maguire. He was standing over two more unconscious soldiers, and Skank was staring intently at his laptop screen.
‘I’ve locked the entrance,’ Skank said, ‘although I’m not sure how long it will hold. Nice work by the way, Stanly.’
‘Thanks.’ I think my heart might explode.
‘Yeah,’ said Maguire. ‘Well done. Come on, we need to go now.’ Skank slid his laptop into its bag and we started to jog down the corridor. I could hear the chaos above, muffled by metal and rock but still highly off-putting. Two soldiers appeared from around the corner, weapons aimed, and without breaking stride Maguire fired twice, getting both men in the kneecaps. They collapsed, yelling hoarsely in pain, and we hurried past them.
‘Jesus!’ I said.
‘That seemed unnecessary,’ said Skank.
‘Kneecaps are fine,’ said Maguire. ‘They won’t bleed out.’ He raised a hand to his ear. ‘Box says they’ve successfully penetrated the Shard. They’re well on their way up already.’
‘And they’re all right?’ I said.
‘Lauren and your cousin are fine,’ said Maguire, tersely.
They’d better be. ‘And the others?’
Maguire tapped his ear. ‘Freeman? You in?’ He listened for a few seconds and I kept my fingers crossed, thinking about Connor and Sharon. To be honest, in my head Freeman was kind of expendable, but the other members of his group most definitely were not. Maguire nodded. ‘They’re fine. They’re in.’
We encountered four more soldiers before we reached the end of the corridor and I made sure to take them down before Maguire could repeat his special move. Better a minor concussion than never being able to walk again. We stopped at a wall-sized silver door with a big red number 1 printed on it and a small computer pad to one side. ‘Right,’ said Skank, pulling off his helmet. He knelt down by the computer and connected up his laptop. ‘Let’s open the pod bay doors.’ Maguire, Daryl and I stood facing away from him, waiting for reinforcements.
Surely this was too easy.
We stood that way for two unbearable minutes, nobody speaking, Skank working quietly and methodically on the laptop. I was just about to vocalise an anxious thought when Maguire jumped, causing Daryl and me to jump too. ‘Box?’ said Maguire. ‘Box!’
‘What’s wrong?’ said Daryl.
‘Box,’ said Maguire. ‘He said . . . ambush. Empowered . . . I think . . .’ He looked at us, disbelief and fear filling his eyes and voice. ‘I think someone shot him.’
‘What?’ I said. ‘What about Lauren and Eddie? Nailah?’
‘I . . . what? Freeman? What the hell’s . . . taking fire where? Well, get out–’ Maguire was cut short by the huge door chugging open and a bullet hitting him square in the back of the head. He pitched over, blood spattering on t
he spotless white floor of the corridor.
The door revealed a huge cargo area with two piles of metal crates stacked floor-to-ceiling and another identical door at the other end. There were also about ten soldiers. Skank had ducked to the side and was laying down covering fire and Daryl was crouched by him, eyes darting, looking for an opening.
How about we make one.
I launched myself in, feeling the heat as bullets burned the atoms in the air around me. I made straight for the ceiling and started picking up soldiers and hurling them around, mental tentacles flailing everywhere, thinking bullets away. I lashed out at the stacks of crates and they overbalanced violently, clattering, some splitting open as they struck the floor and spilling weapons and electronic equipment everywhere. One crate impacted against a soldier’s head, cracking his helmet. He went down hard and I swooped back down and flew towards the last two, cold with purpose, psychically disarming them and extending both my arms to the height of their chests. I had sufficient velocity, coupled with a bit of help from my brain, to clothesline them, lifting them clean off the ground, and they sprawled through the air. I stopped dead, mentally gifting them with some added speed, and they hit the opposite wall. It sounded like at least a couple of bones cracked.
I landed and looked back at Skank. He was speaking into his earpiece while Daryl made the rounds in the room, pinpointing any soldiers who were still conscious and taking them out with swift, brutal body blows. ‘Hello?’ said Skank. ‘Hello, is anyone there? What the hell’s going on? Lauren? Eddie? Nailah?’
‘Are they all right?’ I said.
‘No answer.’
‘Oh God . . .’
‘This mission is over,’ said Skank. ‘We are getting out of here.’
‘Oh no we’re not,’ I said. ‘We came to do a job, we’re going to get it done.’ I turned and flew to the other door. ‘Can you open this?’ I called.
‘No,’ said Skank. He was standing up now. ‘Well . . . probably, but I’m not going to. How long do you think we’re going to last, three of us against whoever’s beyond there?’
Ace of Spiders Page 25