Stuff the three metres. I put a hand on the concrete wall, and swung my body over, looking down at the escalators.
The concrete barrier partially contained the blast for a moment while I was thrown sideways. The barrier disintegrated, and my left arm was squashed against the wall. A sharp stab of pain and a nasty crack made me shriek in pain as a bone snapped. I dropped heavily onto the escalators, bruising my right elbow in the process.
Out of breath, my arms and legs aching from the abuse they had endured, I glanced up. All I could see was a thick cloud, billowing down between the concrete walls on either side of the long escalators, which had stopped.
I had survived another of Stephane's attempts on my life. I can't say I was feeling invulnerable, but something close at any rate.
That was when I noticed the cloud darkening slightly. I knew what that was, and just the thought of it got me moving again. Ignoring the pain from the other arm, I pushed myself up with my good arm, then jumped down two steps. Looking up momentarily as I landed, I glimpsed three shocked faces staring up at me from the bottom of the escalator.
"Move," I yelled, clearing another two steps. "Get out of here!" Two of them reacted immediately. They spun around and reached the bottom in three jumps. The other, a short middle-aged businessman, first stumbled backwards, then he, too, took to his heels.
There was no way I would make it, running down the escalators, so I took the only option left. I jumped onto the separator between the two escalators, between the two, black hand ramps. I soon picked up speed, accelerating when I could with my uninjured arm. I hit the bottom and dropped clumsily off the end of the ramp, landing legs askew. From my position, all I could see was the businessman's back running away from me. The other two people, who were on the escalators moments before, must have reached the step and headed down to the platform.
A large piece of concrete came hurtling down one of the escalators, crashed into the last step, and bounced up, spinning. I barely had time to lean back, to avoid it hitting me in the head. My leg was less lucky, it caught the edge of the block on the rebound, half its energy spent. It gouged out a piece of flesh that ran half way down my leg.
I hardly felt the pain, and anyway, I had more urgent matters on my mind, like getting to safety, away from the escalator entrance that was rapidly becoming condemned. I picked myself up and limped further in to the metro station. Then the cloud of dust hit me. I was savagely thrown forward, hit my knee as I went down, smashed my cheek into the floor, and felt myself roll down the next flight of stairs. Instinctively, I brought my good hand up to protect my head.
When the noise settled, I opened my eyes cautiously, felt an instant sting and closed them. With my handkerchief, I wiped some of the grime away, and tried again. This time, though the pain was still there, it was more bearable. Dust filled the air, but seemed to be settling. My clothes were full of it.
I turned round for a look. Initially, I was unable to see far enough, but as more of the dust fell out of the air, my view got clearer. The entrance I had just used was blocked with rubble and concrete.
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* * *
Chapter Twenty
4.21 p.m.
Akila had rapidly left Wellens' room. He had only just turned the corner when he had heard heavy footsteps rushing down the corridor. Cautiously, he had leaned forward to see what was happening. Three men in impeccable suits but carrying guns had stopped outside Wellens' room. One of them had started turning his head towards him. Akila had pulled back, only just in time. He assumed they were British Secret Service, since the British Prime Minister was in this hotel. He reached the door to the stairs quietly, and changed floors.
Since Wellens was dead, there was one other person he needed to see. He realised now that he had been right to amass information on Marion Grayson. He had found that she worked for the British, and would therefore be staying in this hotel. If Wellens was here, then it could only have been to meet with her. They had planned something during the take-over of the city by his men, the OPA. He didn't bother thinking about it. All he had to do was ask Miss Grayson.
He reached her floor. Looking through the glass in the door, he checked that the corridor was empty. He stepped out cautiously, and walked towards her room. The door was ajar, so he decided to walk past without stopping. As he did so, he glanced inside.
Two men were training guns on Grayson and a man lying on the bed. A woman was opening a black case. Akila didn't have the time to take all that in and see the contents of the case clearly. What he had seen looked like a new kind of high-powered weapon.
He continued walking until he reached the lift. When it arrived, he stepped inside and prepared to leave the building.
***
Fortunately no one else but me had been injured. I had managed to warn off the only other possible victims in time. I reached the stairs above the tracks, and painfully hobbled down. About a dozen people, including the three from the escalators, stopped brushing dust off their clothes, and froze. When I reached the bottom, I stumbled. A young woman, wearing a baseball cap back to front, put out her hand to help, but pulled it back when she saw me recover.
"Are you all right?"
From somewhere, I summoned up the energy to smile at her. "I'm alive. I suppose I'll have to be happy with that. Can't have everything, can we?"
Her smile faded while some of the other people on the platform crowded round. "What happened?" she asked. Her question sparked a flurry of inquiries.
"What did you do?"
"What was that explosion?"
"Are we safe here?"
"Do you think the tracks were damaged?"
I raised a hand feebly, and they settled down. "Calm down. The worst is over. All that happened was that a lorry drove into the wall above the entrance and knocked it down the escalators." It was the best I could come up with, in such a short time. It was certainly better than telling them the truth. "I shouldn't think it would have affected the tracks." I continued, and, as if on cue, a metro train slid up to the platform. City line was certainly back up and running. The depth it was at must have protected it from damage. The shop and tunnels higher up would probably not have fared as well.
Although all the carriages were full, we all managed to squeeze into one of them. Strange looks were par for the course, I suppose. My clothes were in shreds where the glass fragments had torn at them, and we all had dust on our clothes. Fortunately, no one asked any questions, they just stared at us, disapprovingly.
Most people stared in horror at my head. I felt blood seeping out of several minor injuries, and my handkerchief was soaked, but head wounds always look worse for the blood. An elderly lady got up and gave me her seat. Feeling rather faint, I thanked her and sat down. She leaned over and whispered, "You need a doctor, dear?"
"No, thanks. It's very kind of you to ask."
It took only a few minutes to get to the station near the backup centre, Botanique. I left the metro and hobbled all the way to the TMC, then climbed the steps with difficulty. It was just as I had left it - Martin still busy at the console, Maria on the phone, and Michaux standing in the middle trying to appear useful.
Maria saw me first, and without a word dropped the phone. She headed around a table with a look of grave concern on her face. It was nice to see someone was happy to see me again.
A sudden weakness overcame me. My good leg was giving way under me, but there didn't seem like anything I could do about it. Maria ran towards me, and I vaguely remember smiling as I gave in and collapsed into her arms.
***
Shorty and Sideburns reached the rendezvous point at the warehouse where Wellens had given them their morning briefing. They propped their motorbikes against the wall and entered. They had expected to see their colleagues impatiently waiting for them. Instead, the warehouse appeared empty.
Shorty said, "Wait here. I'm going to get my gun from my bike." He returned with two guns, and handed Sideburns one.
Shorty was the first around the side. What he saw stunned him into immobility. Propped against the side of the crate were the bodies of their twelve colleagues. Four of them had their right sleeves rolled up, and the backs of their hands were bloody. A bulky helmeted figure crouched above the fifth body. Shorty aimed his gun just as Sideburns stepped into sight opposite him. Sideburns raised his gun, but the man was too quick. One bullet went straight through his right arm, then his chest exploded as his body was thrown backwards.
Shorty didn't hesitate. He put three shots into the back of the figure. Pausing, he was surprised to notice that the man slowly stood up and calmly turned round. Shorty raised his gun, and shot the figure twice in the head. That didn't seem to have any effect, either. The gun slowly came up.
Shorty reacted instantly. He ducked behind the crates and ran for the entrance. He somehow managed to make it to his bike before the shooting started. Hopping on, he started it up. He swung it around and roared off. As he swerved around the corner, he saw his attacker return inside the warehouse.
Stephane took off his helmet as he walked back inside. He looked down at the scuff marks on his Kevlar trench coat. Pretty effective. Underneath it, he wore a Kevlar vest, capable of resisting a shotgun at point-blank range. He looked at his helmet. It had two or three scratches, but nothing else. It, too, was bullet-proof.
His encounter with Wellens' man in the morning had infuriated him. He had given several good years to Wellens, and his payment would have been his death in a car crash. If Wellens were going to play hard, he would show him. Right after the accident, he had gone to an army surplus store, and bought a complete set of body armour: bullet-proof helmet, shoes, trench coat, gloves. He would only use them if his initial idea didn't work, if he didn't find Wellens. He had overheard a conversation of the team that had to install the bombs, and therefore had known that one beeper was unlike all the others.
He had returned home to pick up his weapons, then had gone to the backup TMC, where the OPA were. Although it had seemed obvious that Wellens had wanted him dead, there was always an outside possibility that someone else had thought it would be a clever idea to get rid of him. That was why he had been forced to go to the OPA. There was too much money at stake for him to make an error of judgement. He had to be absolutely sure that Wellens was the man who wanted him dead. The sniper who had been waiting for him cleared up any doubts he had had.
As it had turned out, his suspicions had been correct. Wellens was too clever to get trapped in a building with a live bomb. He had made an exception for the bomb in his hotel. He had ordered a special beeper, one that he could switch off when the time came. Before entering the hotel, he had transmitted the code to the beeper to deactivate it.
The conversation with Wellens had not been very useful, but Stephane had taken the electronic notebook with him as he left. He had known that it contained the exact location where Sam had put the money. All he needed was to find the password to access it. That's when he had noticed Hugh in the lobby, and had lost the notebook.
That had left him with only one option. He was thankful that he had had the foresight to have an alternative plan. He had picked up his body armour, and waited for each team to turn up at the rendezvous in the warehouse. Once he had killed them, he had started collecting chips.
Shorty and Sideburns had interrupted him. He walked over to Sideburns' body, knelt beside it, and pulled out a knife. Picking up the body's hand, he felt around the back of the hand until his finger made contact with a small set of ridges. With his knife, he carved out a slab of skin and pulled it away.
Beneath the bloody mess was a small ellipsoid of green material. He pulled it out, and wiped it with a cloth. Opening his trench coat, he unzipped the inner pocket and put the chip inside it, with the others.
***
Later, I was told that she alone carried me to the couch in the kitchen. She wouldn't let anyone come near until I had regained consciousness.
I awoke with a stinging pain above my eye. I lifted my arm, but gentle hands grabbed it and levered it back. I opened my eyes.
Ron was standing above me. I felt a wrenching pain again, and I saw him jerk back. He showed me the bloody glass fragment he had just extracted.
They gave me five minutes despite my continued protests that I felt fine, before they let me sit up. When I finally did, I felt a bit dizzy. They handed me a steaming mug of coffee, and I sipped it gingerly.
Maria and Michaux were sitting across from me. Martin was leaning on the doorjamb, half in and half out of the kitchen. Somebody had to keep an eye on the network, after all. All eyes were anxiously fixed on me, except Ron's - he was attacking another fragment on the side of my face.
Michaux had to tear his eyes away from the injury. "Hugh, what the hell happened--"
Maria interrupted him. "It's good to see you again. Ron's given you the once over. In a little while, we'll take you to the hospital. Your arm is broken, and we've made a temporary sling. You also have some nasty cuts and a few bruises."
I looked down at myself. New clothes. I was wearing some fresh, un-ripped trousers and a loose short sleeved shirt with the most horrible flower pattern I've ever seen. "You mean you--" I spluttered.
"Yes, I undressed you. Someone had to do it. Sorry about the style, but Ron was the only one who had any spares. He always carries a change of clothes in his backpack. Now, stop being such a baby. A lot has happened since you left."
Allowing a weak smile to reach my lips, I mumbled, "I know. Look at me."
"Apart from that, we mean," interjected Michaux. "But first, tell us what happened to you."
Maria was all I could see at the time, and I hadn't really paid attention to Michaux. "What?"
"You were on your way back. Then you turn up here looking like Indiana Jones. What happened?"
I didn't really feel ready to relive those terror-filled minutes. Not this soon, at any rate, and I would have said so, had it not been for the urgency of their questions. They wouldn't leave me alone until I told them. No choice but to bite the bullet. Ouch! Not a good choice of words. Appropriate, but not healthy.
"Stephane worked for a larger group. From what I could gather, there are quite a few people involved. The boss seems to be a guy called Wellens. They stole a new laser gun from the Americans, and sold it.
"Stephane had two jobs. One was to give them the information they needed to paralyse the city. The other job surprised me; he was to eliminate the OPA when you discovered where they were. To kill them."
"The sniper?" added Maria.
"I don't know. Stephane also talked about another sniper at the backup site. He seemed to think they were trying to get rid of him at the same time as the OPA. That way they could divide more of the loot between them. Unfortunately, they didn't expand on that. The last thing I saw was Stephane holding a gun on Wellens. I don't know what happened after that. You called me back here."
Michaux nodded "I talked to Hamlyn when you didn't arrive here. After you left, Stephane tried to find where the money was stashed. Wellens refused to tell him, and died for his trouble. Then Stephane left."
"That would explain it."
"Explain what?" Maria asked.
"Stephane attacked me in the lobby, and I legged it."
Michaux frowned, "Legged it?"
"Yes; you know. Ran for it?"
"Okay, go on."
"To cut a long story short, he chased me down several streets, but I managed to get away."
"Yes, you escaped him. You wouldn't be here, otherwise. What I want to know is how you got injured."
"I see. Remember that gadget I told you about? The one I saw the OPA with. The one you said was a detonator?"
"Yes"
"You were right. It was for blowing up the buildings. Stephane tried four times to trap me under one."
Maria's face was once again concerned. "What? You mean he blew up a building to kill you?"
"Yep. And not just one building, but four. I still find it hard to believe his cold-bloodedness. He killed so many people just to get me. He wanted revenge."
"Maybe you heard something you weren't supposed to?" asked Michaux.
As I ignored the question, I realised something. "Michaux, you have to find Stephane. He's still got the detonator, and we don't know how many buildings he's rigged."
"Yes, yes. We'll catch him," he said dismissively. "Let's go back one step. Why did Stephane want to kill you? What did you hear?"
"Nothing. He dropped this," I said, as I handed them the notebook. It was smashed, and the liquid from the screen had seeped out. "And he was desperate to get it back."
"It doesn't look like we will be able to get much from it, but we'll try," Maria said.
"Another thing," I said weakly. "On the way from Hamlyn, I crossed an African."
Michaux seemed interested suddenly. "Yes?"
"He hid his face from me, and stared at me until I was out of sight. At the time, I didn't make the connection, and once I had reached the lobby, I had Stephane to contend with. Now that I think about it, I think that African might be the one from the CD."
"The Speaker for the OPA?"
"Yes. It was his eyes. The intensity of his stare. It looked like he knew me."
Michaux's GSM rang. He left the kitchen to answer it.
The minor shock and the fatigue I had been stocking up through one emergency after another came back to the surface. Maria's face faded as I passed out.
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* * *
Chapter Twenty-One
4h53 PM
Roadworks Page 20