The Trust (The Downlode Heroes Book 2)

by Mikey Campling

  Hank shrugs and pockets his phone. “I don’t know. What room was that?”

  “Six. It’s next to the one we were in last night.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Hank says darkly.

  For a second, Seb doesn’t say anything. “You did the task OK though, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. I did it. Took me a while but I made it.”

  “Cool. Once you get the hang of it, it’s easier, right? So you’ll be fine today. No problem.”

  “Yeah,” Hank admits. “I guess so. Piece of cake.” He keeps his voice light and his expression neutral, but he keeps his eyes on the Learning Hub’s doors. Will he have to use WPR to gain access to the building? Will he succeed this time, or will he fail in front of everyone?

  “Come on,” Seb says. ”We’d better find the room fast.” He steps up to the door, and it slides open automatically.

  “Don’t worry, Seb,” Hank says. “We’ll make it in time.” Then they hurry inside and breeze through the lobby and into the corridor, with Seb leading the way.

  “Here it is,” Seb says. “Room six.”

  “Right.” Hank pushes the door open and they step inside, then Hank scans the rows of seats, searching for two empty chairs. “Where do you want to sit?”

  Seb hesitates, and in that moment, the door opens and a tall woman with long dark hair marches into the room. She’s a striking figure, with a cold, almost haughty expression, and she passes Hank and Seb without a glance and strides confidently to the lectern.

  “Just sit there,” Seb hisses, and they grab a couple seats in the front row.

  “Good morning,” the woman calls out, and her stern tone commands instant silence in the room. “My name is Doctor Jamilla Winslett, and I shall be teaching you the principles of applied psychology. And let me make something very clear to you.” She pauses to look slowly from left to right, studying her audience with sharp eyes. “Psychology is a science—a hard science, like chemistry or physics. It is not a soft subject, but a rigorous discipline and the bar to success in this class is set very high.” Another pause. “There were no books in the three-roomed flat I grew up in, in Kingston Jamaica. No computers. But I worked hard and made my own way through the education system until I won a scholarship to attend the International University of the Caribbean. Armed with my first class honors degree, I came to England and attended the University of Oxford, where I achieved my doctorate. For this, and for many other reasons, you will refer to me by proper title—Doctor Winslett. I know that most of the other staff use first name terms, but I am here to teach you, not to be your friend. I hope that you understand the distinction.” She tilts her head to one side as if waiting, but there is no sound in the room, not even a murmur.

  “Right,” Winslett says, “we’ll begin.” The large screen behind her lights up, and though she doesn’t turn around, the words Tactical Awareness appear on the screen.

  Did she do that by WPR? Hank wonders and a sinking sensation settles in his stomach. Man, I should be over this, he tells himself. But what if I have to post something up on the screen? And what if it takes me just as long as last night? He finds his phone and runs through the settings, checking if everything is OK. It’s still fully charged so at least the battery won’t let him down. But when he looks up, Winslett is glaring at him.

  He sits back in his chair and meets her gaze. A piece of him wants to snort derisively, to tilt his chin up and defy her authority, but he pushes those thoughts aside. Those days are over, he thinks. I’m better than that. He has no use for empty gestures of back-row bravado—not anymore. His doubts got the better of him yesterday, and they nagged him in his dreams half the night, but he’s through with all that. I deserve to be here, he tells himself. I earned my place, and it’s about time I accepted it.

  “When you’re all ready to listen, we’ll continue,” Winslett says. She looks away from Hank. “In a moment, and when I give the instruction, I’d like you to take out your tablets, and select the tactical awareness icon that has just appeared on the home screen. As soon as you do that, the exercise will begin. We’ll be playing out a simulation together, and you’ll see that you have each been allocated a role for the purposes of this exercise. Do not reveal that role to those sitting around you. Read the instructions and then prepare to take part. During the exercise, we’ll work in silence. Clear?” She waits while a murmur of agreement runs through the room. “Very well. Take out your tablets and we’ll begin.”

  Hank takes his tablet from his bag. Sure enough, there’s a new icon on the screen: a simple box labeled Tactical Awareness. Hank taps the icon and a document opens. He reads it as quickly as he can.

  In this exercise, you will play a role in a simulated tactical exercise. You will make decisions on the basis of the information you are given. Each student will only see the information that is specific to their individual role.

  Your role is: Gold Commander. You will have total control of the tactical operation and take ultimate responsibility for the consequences of your actions. The other students are divided into either law enforcement units or armed terrorists.

  Hank looks at Winslett, thinking, Why me? Why do I have to be in charge? But she turns toward him, her dark eyes cold as stone, and Hank rapidly returns his attention to his tablet. The first lines of information have already disappeared, and he’s presented with a screen full of small moving images arranged in four rows of six. For a second it looks like an ordinary collection of videos, but no, they’re thumbnails for CCTV feeds. Some show busy city streets, some show shopping malls, others are aerial footage from helicopters or drones, but all the videos are too small to provide any real detail. He taps on a thumbnail labeled Blue Skies Mall and it expands to fill most of the screen while the other thumbnails shrink to accommodate it, and a menu appears at the side of the mall’s feed, giving him some options to change the field of view. So far, so good, Hank thinks. Everything is fine in the mall: families mill around the shops, groups of teenagers loiter by the benches, a pair of security guards saunter along, and heavily laden shoppers struggle through the bustling crowds.

  Hank switches to an aerial feed, and he scrolls quickly across the streets, taking in the layout of the roads and the local landmarks. But he hasn’t quite covered the city center when a message flashes onto the screen:

  Alert - incident in Blue Skies Mall. Possible shots fired. Select units to deploy.

  A set of new thumbnails slides onto the screen, this time showing groups of uniformed officers. Hank selects a group labeled SWAT Team and a menu appears, asking him where to deploy the team. He could send them to the mall’s roof, but he chooses the main entrance as a safer option. He selects another thumbnail, a police squad, and sends them to the mall too, but this time he sets their deployment mode to Establish perimeter. His fingers move rapidly over the screen as he sends a helicopter to hover over the mall, then he puts the remaining SWAT team on the mall’s rear entrance. There’s another police squad he can send out, but he hesitates. Wait! You haven’t checked inside the goddamned mall. His blood runs cold, but this is no time to beat himself up. He switches back to the video feeds and pulls up the Blue Skies Mall. Oh no! Hank stares at the screen in disbelief. One of the security guards has a young man pinned against the floor, while the other guard waves the onlookers away. A few shoppers shake their heads as they pass the scene, but everything else is just as before. Whatever happened in the mall, it’s now firmly under control, and it certainly wasn’t a terror attack.

  Hank pinches the bridge of his nose. What the hell was I thinking? He switches back to his enforcement units, but before he can cancel their orders, a slew of messages scrolls onto the screen:

  Suspicious package reported at Bus Depot

  Suspicious vehicle reported outside Central Rail Station - evacuation in progress

  Suspicious bag reported in West Street Mall

  Possible shots fired in North Avenue Bank.

  Hank stares at the screen. Should he redepl
oy his units immediately or check each scene first? What’s the probability of there being another false alarm so soon after the first? Which report presents the greatest threat to human life?

  Thinking quickly, he redeploys the helicopter to the train station, then he recalls his SWAT teams, sending them back to base. He redirects one police squad to the bus station and sends the other squad to deploy to the West Street Mall. He searches for a bomb disposal squad, but there’s no such unit available. And with so much going on, he’d better learn from his mistakes and keep his SWAT units in reserve. The trouble at the bank can wait a few minutes. It might be a robbery in progress, but his gut tells him it’s a trick to throw him off course: another false alarm.

  He checks the feeds. The evacuation at the train station looks under control, and there are police cars drawing up outside the bus depot and the West Street Mall. He gives both squads the same orders, instructing them to clear the area, then he watches as the officers spring into action.

  Hank smiles to himself. This is more like it. He’s back in control, he has a handle on the situation. It’s clearly an attempted bombing campaign, and if he can get everyone clear in time, he’ll have done his very best to keep people safe.

  He checks the train station once again. Everything is going well and people are moving quickly and calmly away from the danger area, so he redeploys the helicopter, sending it to the bank.

  He monitors the chopper’s video feed, scanning the streets below for any sign of a getaway car. But the streets here are quiet, almost deserted. That’s weird, he thinks. The malls were crowded. He zooms the video out. The buildings are tall here: soaring tower blocks of steel and glass. Oh my God! This must be the financial district, and North Avenue Bank isn’t a branch, but the bank’s head office. Why would shots be fired in an office block? He searches the video feed, looking desperately for some sign of suspicious activity, and that’s when something catches his eye. In the bottom right-hand corner of the feed there’s a time stamp, and when he sees the date, he takes a sharp breath. It’s the first of January. New year’s day! A holiday! So that’s why the financial district is deserted and the shops are crowded. But if the building is empty, why would shots be fired?

  The bank’s office block looms larger as the helicopter closes in, and a chill creeps across Hank’s skin. A soft target, he thinks. Perhaps there’s a security guard inside or maybe two, and that would account for the shots. He should send the SWAT team, or maybe both of them. But before he can send out new orders, one side of the building erupts in a ball of flame. The helicopter’s feed flickers and sways, rocking violently back and forth as if buffeted by the blast, and Hank stares stupidly at the screen, transfixed by the plume of billowing smoke barreling toward the camera. About half way up the office block, a gaping hole appears, and now the upper floors tip slowly sideways, crumbling, collapsing in on themselves. The top half of the building leans farther and farther, and Hank’s blood freezes in his veins. Then, in one agonizing, unstoppable movement, the entire building topples to the ground, colliding with a neighboring block and sending fresh clouds of smoke and dust to swirl in the air. “Jesus Christ!” Hank whispers. And a message flashes onto his screen: Simulation Ends.

  CHAPTER 36

  STEWART KNEELS DOWN BESIDE Marcus’s unconscious body and examines the black box connected to the young man’s headset. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Me neither,” Gordon says. “It looks custom-made, though. There’s nothing remotely similar on the market. We should get Kwan to take a look at it.”

  Stewart gives a non-committal grunt, then he looks carefully at Marcus’s pale face. It’s hard to tell in the flashlight’s glare, but the young man’s lips appear to be pale blue. “I wonder how long he’s been like this. Could he be suffering from hypothermia?”

  Gordon hesitates before answering. “He could be. But I think we’ve got a deeper problem.”

  Stewart stands up. “You think he’s integrated? Locked into a scenario?”

  Gordon nods slowly. “I can’t be sure, but we can’t just unplug him and carry him back. That’s not a risk we can take.”

  “I agree,” Stewart says. “But if we can get a security team out here, do you think you could stretcher him back to Northridge without disconnecting the headset from that box?”

  “Definitely. That’s what I was thinking myself, but I needed your permission to go ahead. Mr. Brunner was very clear on that.”

  “You talked to Brunner? Why?”

  Gordon looks Stewart in the eye. “I have my instructions, Colonel, and I follow them to the letter. You know how things stand, and Mr. Brunner has been demanding updates every half hour. If there’s a screw-up, it won’t be on my watch.”

  “I understand, Gordon. I meant no disrespect.” Stewart studies Gordon’s expression. In the dim light, it’s hard to tell if he’s holding anything back, but Gordon is a good man: honest and open. It’s safe to take him at his word. “Stradford must be angry about all this. The new students have arrived, and we still haven’t found Eileen Barber. Things aren’t looking good.”

  Gordon stays stony-faced. “I won’t speak for Mr. Brunner, but I’m confident we can keep all the students safe—just like always. And as for Ms. Barber, we’ll find her soon enough.”

  “I know you’ll do your best, Gordon. But I’m still not sure what we’re dealing with here. I’m sure that Eileen drew this young man into some kind of trouble, but we still don’t know why. What is she hoping to achieve?”

  “I’ll leave that for others to figure out,” Gordon replies. “I’ll take care of Marcus, and then we’ll concentrate on protecting the site. I don’t know what that damned Barber woman was trying to do, but if she shows up at Northridge, she won’t make it inside a building. We’ll snap her up in seconds.”

  “I don’t doubt it, Gordon. But what if she’s holed up somewhere like this? It’s a miracle you found this place at all. How did you manage it?”

  And for the first time, a twitch of uncertainty tugs at Gordon’s lips.

  Stewart narrows his eyes. “What happened, Gordon? Tell me.”

  “We got a message. A set of coordinates—nothing else. We didn’t know what to make of it. I thought it was probably nothing, but I wanted to be sure.”

  “Who was the message from?”

  Gordon lifts his chin. “It was anonymous. We tried to trace it, but we came up empty. It was bounced through so many proxies we couldn’t track it down.”

  Stewart lets out a growl of frustration. “You should’ve told me that straight away, Gordon. I need to have all the facts.”

  “Mr. Brunner said—” Gordon begins, but Stewart doesn’t let him finish.

  “I don’t give a damn what Brunner says. He put me in charge of this investigation, and I’m the one on the ground trying to fix this mess. I need to be kept informed. I need to know every detail. And we haven’t got time for you and your team to clear every damned thing with Brunner before you let me know. We need to move fast or the students will be at risk. Do you want anyone else to end up like Marcus here?”

  Gordon glares at Stewart, tight-lipped, but he doesn’t reply.

  “I know you’re trying to respect the chain of command,” Stewart goes on, “but from now on, I get to hear of any developments as soon as they happen. Mr. Brunner has given me the highest level of clearance in this matter, and you can check that with him. But whatever happens, I cannot be left out of the loop. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gordon says, his voice laced with grim resentment. “Crystal clear. In the meantime, I suggest that we move Marcus as soon as possible. Most of the students will be in class right now, so this is our best chance to get him inside. I doubt that you want the new students to be greeted by the sight of this young man laid out on a stretcher.”

  Stewart takes a breath. “Go ahead. Get a team of three people to meet you here. Make sure at least one of them is a paramedic. Tell them to bring a thermal blanket and a d
rip to get him rehydrated. But make sure you handle the black box carefully. Don’t remove the headset and make sure no one breaks the connection. I don’t want anyone interfering with that box until Kwan’s had a look at it. All right?”

  “Got it,” Gordon says, and already the indignant irritation has gone from his tone.

  “I’ll head back to Northridge,” Stewart says. “Take Marcus to the medical center and I’ll have Kwan meet you there. I’ll field any questions Kwan might have. It would be best if you tell him as little as possible. He isn’t cleared for any of this.” He pauses for a moment. “You did well to find him, Gordon. You’ve probably saved his life.”

  Gordon nods. “I hope so.”

  “There’s no doubt about it, Gordon. But we need to act fast. I’ll catch up with you later. If there are any developments, let me know.” He squeezes past Gordon in the narrow confines of the crude shelter and heads for the ladder. He casts a glance back at Gordon, but the security man is already making a call on his phone, his eyes on Marcus. I don’t like this, Stewart thinks. I don’t like this at all. And with that thought, he climbs the ladder as quickly as he can and lets himself out onto the open moor.

  CHAPTER 37

  IT’S FINISHED, HANK THINKS. I’m done. The screen on his tablet goes dark, and he drops his head until his chin rests on his chest. There’s a chorus of frustrated groans from around the room, a murmur of discontent, and when Hank lifts his head, Dr. Winslett is looking directly at him, a satisfied smile on her lips and a glint of triumph in her eyes. She looks away, turning her piercing gaze on the students. “I’m cutting this session off early today,” she says. “I have some urgent business to attend to, and you need to consider what you’ve just learned. So go and take a break, get some coffee, get some air, then go to your next timetabled session. We’ll discuss this exercise when we next meet. Your homework assignments are on your tablets, and I’ll expect all the tasks to be completed for tomorrow. That is all.” Then, without hesitation, she heads for the door.