by Philip Henry
Fenton laid back in his chair. ‘I never took you for gullible, Nicholl.’
The door bleeped and opened. Fenton’s second-in-command walked in carrying two cardboard cups of coffee. He set one down in front of Fenton and the other in front of Nicholl, then returned to stand by the door. Fenton leaned forward and sipped his coffee. He smiled and nodded to Nicholl’s cup. Nicholl lifted the cup and slowly emptied it onto the floor. She looked inside the empty cup and saw the remains of a powdery substance. She looked at Fenton. ‘Sodium Pentothal in the coffee? You really thought I’d fall for that?’ She dropped the cup to the ground.
‘A few years ago I would have said no way, but ever since Bradley died you’ve been going steadily downhill. Led a lot of people to assume that Bradley was the brains of your little partnership and without her you’re struggling. That and your – what are we calling it – relationship? with Rek Hughes has made you a serious security threat, Nicholl. No one knows what the hell you’re going to do next. There have been a lot of wild rumours about you over the last few years and I didn’t want to believe them at first. It couldn’t be possible. Not Nicholl. Not the ministry’s golden girl. But this latest stunt just goes to prove that maybe the rumours aren’t wrong. The ease with which I caught you tonight only proves you’re getting older. Older and slower. Maybe you are losing it.’
‘You don’t want to listen to rumours, Fenton,’ Nicholl said calmly. ‘I mean, I heard a rumour that you were sent over here to babysit Takamura’s collection because Kyle said you were a “grossly incompetent field agent”.’
Fenton winced, choking back the rage. Nicholl smiled. Fenton shot his second-in-command a look, which the man deliberately avoided. Fenton looked back to Nicholl. ‘Fine. You go on believing your little fairytale prophecy. You believe everything Rek Hughes tells you when your face is buried in a pillow. Do you think Bradley would be proud of you? Betraying the Ministry just because some guy gave you an orgasm!’
Nicholl leapt across the table and pressed the chain of the handcuffs against Fenton’s windpipe. The chair fell backwards and they both landed on the ground. Nicholl pushed down on his neck with the handcuff chain. Fenton fought to release himself but couldn’t. A second later Nicholl was grabbed by the hair and yanked backwards. Fenton’s second-in-command pulled her to her feet and then threw her to the other side of the room. Nicholl hit the corner and slid to the ground.
Fenton got to his feet slowly. He undid his tie and massaged his bruised windpipe. He lifted the toppled chair and slammed it down on its legs again. He glared over at Nicholl. ‘Get up!’
Nicholl slid back up the wall but remained in the corner. Fenton walked over to her and stood face to face, their noses almost touching. He locked eyes with her. Nicholl never saw the punch coming. She dropped to the floor again, clutching her mid-section.
Fenton leaned down and whispered, ‘I’m going to make sure you end up in Section Zero for this. You mark my fucking words, Nicholl.’
There was a bleep behind them and the door opened. A junior agent appeared. He was about to speak when he saw Nicholl buckled-over on the floor. ‘Well, what is it?’ Fenton yelled impatiently.
The young agent told his second-in-command, who relayed the message to Fenton. ‘An urgent phone call for you, sir, from Takamura’s manservant.’
‘You still using a translator, Fenton? Most people pick up a language in about a year. How long have you been here now?’ Fenton grabbed Nicholl by the collar and pulled her to her feet then dragged her back to the table and pushed her down into her seat.
‘Look at me.’ Nicholl continued looking forward as she pushed her hair out of her face and clipped it in place. Fenton grabbed her mouth and twisted her face towards him. ‘I said look at me!’ He moved closer to her. ‘We’re going to have a lot more time to talk before your escort gets here. I’ll be back soon.’ He let go of her face with a push. He could see how full of rage Nicholl was, but also impotent to do anything about it. He felt how stiff he was in his trousers.
Fenton walked towards the door. The young agent left first, followed by his second-in-command. Fenton looked back over his shoulder at Nicholl and smiled before pulling the door closed behind him.
He stood in the corridor until the door bleeped and gave it a pull to make sure it was secure – he was taking no chances with Nicholl. Fenton walked up the corridor and paused at the top of it. He directed the other agents to go ahead while he went into the toilets.
There was no one else in the toilets but he went to a cubicle anyway and locked the door. He unzipped his trousers and released his erection. He looked down at it, smiling. He took out his phone and got a photo of it at full strength. He looked at the screen of his phone and smiled broadly at the photo. ‘That’s what I’m fuckin’ talking about,’ he said in an excited whisper. He swayed his hips back and forth gently. It took all his willpower not to make lightsabre noises. He waited until the muscles started to relax and then zipped himself back up and left the cubicle. He threw some water on his face and dried it with a paper towel. He looked in the mirror and adjusted the remains of the bulge in his trousers. He took a deep breath and left the toilets.
He strode confidently through the office. He had a sense of seniority he had not felt since being dumped in this field office nine years before. It was all he could do to suppress a smile. As he walked through the maze of desks he could tell that the junior agent had already passed on what he had seen. They looked at him with respect now. Or it could have been fear. Or even awe. Whatever it was, Fenton would take it. They had looked at him for almost a decade like he was little more than a night watchman at an empty building. He reached his office and closed the door behind him when he entered. He watched them chatter quickly back and forth to each other, stealing glances at his office every now and then. Fenton sat down at his desk. He took a deep breath and allowed himself a smile now. He saw the flashing button on his phone and remembered his call.
He took out his mobile phone and went to the photos folder. His suspicions were correct; in the photo he had just taken his penis was definitely bigger than the other two pictures he had taken of himself aroused. There it was: scientific proof. When you compare manual arousal and chemical arousal against the aphrodisiac that is power; power wins, by at least a quarter of an inch. Though in the interests of scientific objectivity he should compare those three to an erection given to him by an actual three-dimensional, living, breathing woman in close proximity. That was the only theoretical aspect in his research at the moment. Still, with his newfound sense of power it was only a matter of time before one of the secretaries gave in to her desire and then all his photocopier-room fantasies would come true. He smiled, snapped his phone shut and dropped it in his pocket. He pressed the flashing button on his office phone.
‘Fenton.’
‘Ah, yes, Mister Fenton. Takamura, san, wishes to know if your man has finished?’
‘What man?’
‘The agent you left to do an inventory of Takamura, san’s, collection. It is most late already. He has most important meeting in morning and…’
‘I didn’t leave anyone to do an inventory, you must be…’ Fenton’s smile disappeared and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. His mouth was dry. It took three attempts to get the question out. ‘Is the… the Fist… is it still there?’
‘Excuse please, why would it…?’
‘Is The Fist of Merlin still there?’ Fenton shouted.
‘I will check.’
The line went quiet. Fenton waved frantically through his office window and attracted his second-in-command’s attention. He rushed into the office. ‘We didn’t leave anyone behind at Takamura’s, did we?’
‘No, sir, you said there was no need since we had caught the thief.’
Fenton held up a quieting hand as the manservant came back on the line. ‘The Fist of Merlin is not here. Takamura, san, is most upset.’
‘What did he look like? The man you thought we left
behind, what did he look like?’ Fenton barked.
‘He was white man. He had the accent of the Irish.’
‘Fuck!’ Fenton slammed the phone down and then threw both parts of it across the room. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to get his thoughts straight. ‘Shit! I should’ve known. I should’ve fuckin’ known if she was here, he would be here too.’
The second-in-command spoke cautiously. ‘Who would be here too, sir?’
‘Hughes! Rek fuckin’ Hughes. Get his picture out to all the law enforcement agencies and the airports. He’s on the Ministry’s database. That bitch was just buying him time. She’ll know where he is.’
Fenton stamped out through his office and across the main office floor, now wanting to avoid the stares of his subordinates. He strode down the corridor to the interrogation room, his blood boiling. He reached the door and felt his jacket pockets one by one, then again. Then he tried his trouser pockets. ‘Where’s my fuckin’…?’ His sentence stopped short as he remembered Nicholl lying on top of him during the scuffle. He turned to his second-in-command. ‘Open it!’
The second-in-command swiped his card through. The door bleeped and unlocked. Fenton pushed him aside and ran into the room. The room was empty apart from two chairs and a table. Resting on the table were a pair of handcuffs and a hair-clip. ‘Fucking bitch!’ he screamed. He upturned the table and slammed it against the wall. The crash made his second-in-command jump. Fenton took a few deep breaths. ‘OK, she didn’t come past us, so she must have gone out the back entrance. Get everyone out to the back car park now!’
The second-in-command rushed away at once. Fenton seethed as he stared at the handcuffs lying on the floor. He turned and ran out to join the chase.
Dawn was just breaking as Fenton stepped out into the back car park. A dozen of his men were spread out over the large car park, shining torches into cars, under cars and between cars. The roar of an engine broke the silence. Everyone looked around trying to pinpoint where the sound had originated. A pair of headlights came on, full beam, and a car bolted out of its parking spot. A few agents ran after her on foot but they had no chance. Nicholl just had time to smile at Fenton as she sped past him and out into the Tokyo night.
Fenton screamed at his second-in-command, ‘Get after her. Shoot her if you have to, but she does not leave Japan. Understand me?’ Eight agents bundled into two cars after his orders had been relayed. With a screech of tyres, they took off after Nicholl. Fenton grabbed his second-in-command and said, ‘Get the helicopter prepped and ready for take-off.’ His second-in-command nodded and ran off. Fenton stared at the lights of Tokyo.
Rek walked down the back ramp of the plane as a fork-lift carried another crate inside. He looked at the rapidly dwindling cargo sitting on the runway waiting to be loaded. He loosened the tie around his neck. He was still wearing the Ministry suit he had used to gain access to Takamura’s house. He patted his jacket pocket again and was relieved to find The Fist of Merlin hadn’t disappeared in the last three minutes. He looked towards the terminal building and saw no sign of Nicholl. He knew this was a bad idea. It was way too risky from the beginning. He looked over at the crates. Once they were all loaded this plane would be taking off. He should have gone with her. It was madness to expect her to escape from a Ministry field office on her own.
Promise me, Rek.
They had arrived in Japan early yesterday morning. After acquiring the security codes and making their return flight arrangements, they had been back in the hotel by late afternoon. They had lunch in their room and spent the rest of the day in bed. Nicholl had become less and less worried about the Ministry finding out about her relationship with Rek. He was on the Ministry’s Watch List after Takamura had reported being harassed by him by phone, mail and email. So much for trying to get the Fist legally. It had also put Rek on the outside, and any Ministry agent consorting with him would be viewed with suspicion. Nicholl had been careful in the beginning but now Rek felt that she sensed the same as he did; that bigger things were happening. The Endtime was close.
She had sat up in bed, facing away from him. He ran his fingers down her naked back. Her skin was so soft and smooth in places, but there were many scars; knife wounds, bullet wounds, scratches and bites, each tied to a place and time in her career. Her skin was a map of the path that had led her here.
‘Is your mobile fully charged?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, it is.’
‘As soon as I go over the wall you should call in the tip-off to Fenton.’
‘OK.’
She kept her back to him. ‘Rek, if I don’t make it back in time…’
‘You’re going to make it back. Remember your great escape plan.’
‘Yeah, I will get away, but I may not get away in time, and if that happens… you have to leave without me.’
‘Let’s not talk about this.’
‘Rek, you have to get the Fist back home. This is bigger than either of us. Bigger than both of us. Everything depends on it. Promise me, Rek.’
Promise me, Rek.
The fork-lift climbed the ramp. There were less than a dozen crates left now. Rek stared over at the terminal building. No one emerged from the doors. He whispered, ‘Come on. What the hell’s keeping you?’
The back window of Nicholl’s car exploded amid a hail of gunfire. She pulled the car hard right and ducked down an alleyway. The streets of Tokyo were empty at this time of the morning so she was keeping her foot down as much as possible. The black sedans were still behind her. Another burst of machine gun fire erupted and Nicholl heard metal being punched and the tail-lights shattering. She threw the car into a hard left, then a right. She put her foot down and the car lurched forwards. Behind her was clear. She raced down the neon-lined street ignoring the early-morning traffic lights.
Her freedom was short-lived. One of the black sedans appeared in her mirror again. They were still quite a distance behind; she might be able to outrun them. Explosions of steam ripped from the car’s bonnet as bullets ploughed into the engine. Nicholl looked up and saw a black helicopter shooting down at her. She started swerving wildly back and forth across the street. The black sedan in her mirror was gaining ground.
The other black sedan appeared on the street ahead, coming straight at her. There was nowhere to go. No side streets. No alleys. Nicholl put her foot down and set a collision course with the oncoming car. Just yards from impact she pushed open her door and threw herself out. The sedan tried to swerve at the last moment but the car Nicholl had been driving slammed into it at full speed. The force of the impact slammed both cars into a nearby shop-front.
Nicholl had fallen hard on the street, but her training had taught her to roll so she had got off fairly lightly. She turned around and saw the second sedan was almost upon her. She got to her feet, a little unsteadily, and ran to the pavement and started trying doors. The agents were out of the second sedan and running towards her. She found an open door and ran inside. She closed and dead-bolted the door behind her then ran for the stairs. She heard the agents pounding as she raced upwards. She was in a small apartment complex. It was three storeys high. She reached the roof access and slammed the door open.
She turned, closed and dead-bolted the roof access door. She ran to the far side of the roof. The next building was at least fifteen feet away and a little higher – there was no way she could jump. She ran back across but was stopped halfway by a gust of wind. She looked up and saw the helicopter. Long black ropes dropped from either side and two men started to slide down. Nicholl was landing punches on the first one before he’d let go of the rope. Though he was trained in martial arts, he was small and of slight build. Nicholl punched his face and torso repeatedly and finished off by kicking him in the groin. The agent grabbed his testicles and dropped to his knees.
Nicholl turned around and was punched square in the face. She didn’t fall over but stepped back far enough to administer a front-kick to the face of her opponent. His nose
exploded and within seconds blood was pouring over his lips and chin. The agent staggered forwards, blinded by his own tears. He was about to walk into the other agent, still on his knees, when Nicholl grabbed him by the tie and jerked him down, hard. The bleeding agent’s skull cracked loudly off his kneeling colleague’s and they both fell to the ground. Nicholl could hear the agents from the sedan now throwing themselves against the roof access door.
She grabbed one of the ropes hanging from the helicopter and tied it to the railing around the roof. The pilot saw what she was doing and manoeuvred the helicopter backwards and over the street but he was too late. The rope was tied and the helicopter was tethered to the roof. Bullets started to rip through the roof access door around the dead-bolt. Nicholl took a few steps backwards and then ran at the side of the building. She jumped off the side and caught the other rope dangling from the helicopter. She immediately started to shin down towards the street.
She was fifteen feet from the ground when the pilot saw what she was up to. He lurched the helicopter forwards. Nicholl was propelled towards a brick wall in front of her. She let go and dropped to the ground. She heard a screech of brakes and the crash of metal. She got up and tried to rub feeling back into the shoulder she had fallen on. She looked up at the helicopter bouncing around on its leash. The agents were on the roof now and desperately trying to untie or cut the rope. She turned around and saw a bike messenger had fallen off his motorcycle while trying to avoid hitting her.
Nicholl limped over to him quickly. She asked if he was all right in Japanese. She couldn’t see his eyes through his visor, but his helmet nodded. She lifted his motorcycle and brought it to life. ‘Sorry about this, but I really need to be somewhere.’ She painfully threw her leg over the motorcycle, kicked it into gear and was gone in a gust of exhaust fumes.
By the time the helicopter caught up with her, Nicholl was racing towards the entrance to Narita International Airport. Fenton took out his handgun and fired a few shots at her from the air as they closed in. Nicholl increased her speed towards the barrier gate. The guard had just waved a car through. The barrier was lowering again. The guard put his palm up to halt the motorcycle screaming towards him. The barrier was almost down. Nicholl leaned into the corner and just managed to get under it. The guard fired two shots into the ground and then got on his radio.