Vortex

by Chris Ryan

  Annie interrupted his thoughts. 'Lucian wouldn't really do that, would he?' she trembled. 'Kill him, I mean. His own brother.'

  'I don't know,' Ben replied grimly. 'If what Joseph told us was true – and I don't really see any reason to doubt him – then that brother of his is a pretty nasty piece of work. Look what he did to him all those years ago.'

  Annie looked troubled. 'But he didn't kill him. Surely that's something, isn't it?'

  Ben wanted to agree with her, but he couldn't. 'I don't think we can count on the kindness of Joseph's brother to get us out of this, do you?'

  Annie thought for a moment, then shook her head. 'No,' she said finally. 'I don't.'

  Silently, Ben held up his handgun. 'I don't know about you,' he said, 'but it seems to me that this is the only ace we're holding.'

  His cousin's eyes narrowed. 'Listen to me carefully, Ben,' she said. 'Flight Lieutenant Johnson is still in that room. He's RAF, you can bet your bottom dollar that he's armed, and he's been highly trained. If you rush in there all guns blazing, I promise you he'll have a bullet in your head before you can raise an arm.'

  The warning hung there in the air between them. Eventually Ben nodded his head. 'You're right,' he said. 'But if we walk in there unarmed, we'll just be taken prisoner again, and who knows what they'll do with us this time—'

  'Quiet!' Annie hushed him. 'Footsteps!'

  Ben listened. Sure enough, he heard the unmistakable sound of people leaving the room. And then a voice, so loud that it made them both jump. 'How dare you!' they heard Joseph almost shout. 'How dare you treat me like this and leave my brother alone there with that wicked device!'

  A thump.

  A pained cough.

  'Shut up,' they heard Johnson growl.

  Annie's eyes went steely. 'Let's follow them,' she whispered with determination in her voice.

  'No,' Ben replied forcefully. 'Don't you see? Joseph was just letting us know that Lucian's alone with the device. He's in charge round here. If we can get him to do what we say, that makes us in charge. You said it yourself – we'd be stupid to go face to face with Johnson.'

  'But Joseph—' Annie started to say, and Ben wondered if he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

  'I know,' he whispered. 'I know. But this is the best chance we have of saving him – and stopping Vortex from seeing the light of day.'

  Annie bit her lip. 'Do you think it's as bad as Joseph said?' she asked.

  Ben breathed out heavily. 'I don't know,' he replied. 'But I don't think it's a risk we can afford to take, do you?'

  Annie shook her head.

  'OK then,' Ben said tersely. 'Let's go.' And with the gun firmly in his grip, he moved stealthily back up the corridor, round the corner and towards the door. It was shut now, and the two of them waited outside for a brief moment as they prepared themselves for what was to follow. Then Ben stretched his gun arm out straight, pointing the firearm in front of him, and slowly, quietly opened the door.

  Lucian was there, but he did not see them at first. His back was turned, and he stooped over a desk against the far wall, resting his hands on the table and seeming to stare into space. His back was hunched, and the hair on the back of his head thin: from this angle, he looked to Ben like a very old man. An old man who was carrying a tremendous weight on his shoulders.

  In front of him, in the middle of the room, was another table, a large one, with extremely bright halogen lights beaming down onto it from the ceiling. And on the table, gleaming in the bright light, was a metallic cylinder. It was about the size of a small suitcase, and there was something rather elegant about the smooth, polished metal and the surprisingly few controls and displays that were embedded along the top of the cylinder.

  Ben found himself momentarily transfixed. That was it, he told himself. That was Vortex. It had to be.

  It was a beautiful object. Slick and shiny. But it was capable of so much terror.

  He dragged his eyes from the device and looked back at Lucian. He noticed that his gun hand was trembling slightly, so he did his best to steady it, then spoke in as firm a voice as he could muster. 'Turn round slowly, Lucian, and put your hands on your head.'

  Lucian didn't move.

  'I said, turn round!' Ben instructed more firmly. 'Now!'

  With infinite slowness, Lucian's body creaked to its full height like a snake rising from the ground. He refused to put his hands on his head, instead looking at Ben and Annie over his round glasses with an expression half of amusement, half of dislike.

  'Your hand is shaking, boy,' he whispered.

  Ben cursed himself inwardly for allowing his nerves to show, but he did not let his aim waver.

  'Put your hands on your head,' he repeated. 'I mean it, Lucian. I'm not messing around.'

  Lucian's lined face moulded itself into a sneer. 'How old are you, boy?' he practically whispered.

  'That doesn't matter. Put your hands on your head.'

  'Oh, I don't think I'll be doing that. I can tell a bluff when I see one. I know perfectly well that you don't have the faintest idea how that gun works. Put it down before you hurt yourself.' He took a confident step towards them.

  Ben narrowed his eyes. The old man in front of him had a look of such supreme arrogance it was all he could do to suppress his anger. Their eyes locked, and Ben stared at him emotionlessly before it became clear what he had to do to get Lucian's attention.

  The old man took another step forward. 'Ben . . .' Annie breathed urgently.

  Ben didn't reply. Slowly he lowered his arm so that the gun was pointing towards the floor. Lucian smiled unpleasantly. 'Good boy,' he said, as though he were talking to an obedient dog.

  But before he could take another step towards the two of them, Ben raised the gun again. This time he was not pointing it at Lucian; he was pointing it at the metal canister on the table between them. 'Let's see if I can't guess how this gun works, shall we?' he said with a half-smile.

  And with a squeeze of the trigger, he fired.

  Almost instantaneously, there were two noises: the loud crack of the gun, and a more tinny ring as the bullet ricocheted off the metal device, leaving a small dent in the sturdy metal exterior. Annie stifled a scream as the bullet whistled past them to embed itself in the wall. Lucian's reaction could not have been more extreme. The lazy arrogance fell from his face and he stepped forward towards the device, almost caressing it. 'What do you think you're playing at?' he demanded, aghast. 'Do you have any idea what you could have done?'

  'Yeah,' Ben replied. 'Actually, I do.' He aimed the gun back in Lucian's direction. 'Now put your hands on your head like I told you. We're going to have a little chat.'

  'What could we possibly have to chat about?' Lucian spat. All the colour had drained from his face the moment Ben had shot at the device on the table, and although he still sounded contemptuous and superior, he looked like half the man he had when they had first walked in.

  'Joseph, for a start. Where have they taken him?'

  'It's no concern of yours, boy.'

  Ben aimed the gun back at the device.

  'No!' Lucian shouted. 'Stop. Wait.'

  Ben raised an eyebrow. 'You'd better start talking,' he said, 'because I will shoot again.'

  'OK, OK,' Lucian stuttered. 'He's being escorted off the premises.'

  Immediately, Ben fired another shot at the device. This time it caused an even bigger dent towards the centre and, once again, the ricocheting bullet shot into the wall – on the other side of the room this time. 'Don't lie to me, Lucian,' he said. 'I overheard that Russian man telling you to kill him, and I don't believe for a minute that you'd just let him go, not after everything you've done to keep us out of the way.'

  Lucian's eyes narrowed. For some reason he glanced up to the ceiling, but then he stared back at Ben and moistened his lips with his tongue before speaking again. 'Very well,' he whispered. 'If you think you're old enough to ask the question, then you'd better be prepared to hear the answer. M
y idiot brother is being taken to a target range, much like the one where you were discovered snooping around. There is a training exercise at dawn. The principal target there is a newly constructed hut. Joseph is being locked in there, and it will definitely be destroyed during the training exercise.'

  'You're sick,' Annie declared.

  'I'm not sick, missie,' he retorted with sudden anger. 'I'm a pragmatist.'

  'You're a nutter, more like,' she replied. 'What's with all this James Bond stuff ? Why didn't you just shoot him while you had the chance?'

  'I wouldn't expect you to understand, little girl,' he said as insultingly as he could.

  'Oh, we understand all right,' Ben said quietly. 'You're doing it this way because you don't want his blood on your hands. If he's killed during a training exercise, everyone will think it's just a terrible accident caused as a result of him nosing around in a place where he shouldn't be.'

  Lucian smiled again. 'Very good,' he whispered.

  'How could you do that to him?' Ben asked in shock. 'He's your brother. First you put him in a mental asylum all his life, now this.'

  'Ah.' Lucian's eyes widened. 'Is that what he told you?' He turned round and walked away from them back towards the wall, before spinning back to look at them angrily. 'Well let me tell you,' he said waspishly, 'that my brother was heading for a life in and out of mental institutions from before he was even your age.'

  'We've seen the room where you did it, Lucian,' Ben countered. 'We've seen the place where you made your brother's mental instability ten times worse.'

  'He was going to blow the whistle!' Lucian shouted. 'He was going to ruin important research.'

  'Some things are more important than research,' Ben told him.

  'Don't be so naïve. People had tried to put a stop to our experiments before dear Joseph had the idea. Every single one of them disappeared. I was doing Joseph a favour, stopping the authorities from killing him. He should be thanking me, but he's too crazy to know any different.'

  'Funny, isn't it,' Annie observed as though to herself, 'that after fifty years in psychiatric hospitals, he doesn't quite see it that way. And you know another thing that's funny? That for all this talk of what a big favour you did him, you're happy to let him die now.'

  Annie's barbed comment seemed to echo all around the room.

  'He knew what he was doing, interfering with my work once again,' Lucian told her.

  'I thought you said he was crazy. If he's crazy, surely he doesn't know what he's doing.'

  'It hardly matters,' Lucian spat. He pointed at the metal cylinder. 'Some things are more important. Do you have any idea how many lives my invention could save?'

  'What?' Ben and Annie said in unison.

  'Of course!' Lucian hollered, waving his arms slightly maniacally in the air. 'If the North Koreans – or whoever – get their hands on it, it will stop them from resorting to nuclear weapons. They won't need to go nuclear, because they'll have a far more effective weapon at their disposal.' As he spoke, his eyes betrayed the light of a zealot.

  'Really?' Ben asked, his voice trembling though he did his best to keep it level. 'Well, try telling that to the people who'll die when their planes fall out of the sky as a result of your toy.'

  Lucian shrugged. 'Collateral damage,' he stated. 'In every conflict there has to be a certain amount of acceptable loss. If you think it doesn't happen with our current systems of warfare, then you really are more stupid than I thought.'

  But Ben just shook his head. 'You know what?' he said, not allowing his gun to waver from Lucian's direction. 'You're the crazy one, not your brother.'

  Lucian snorted. 'It's amazing how many people seem to think so,' he said. 'Crazy old Lucian, stuck at Spadeadam for all his working life. Those do-gooding RAF muppets above ground treat me like I'm just as crazy as Joseph. But they're not the ones about to receive a five-million-pound payment and a one-way ticket to anywhere they want in the world. They're not the ones who have spent the past five years working on a project that governments around the world would pay millions to get their hands on.'

  'Just shut up, Lucian!' Ben shouted him down, sickened by the man's greed. 'You're not going anywhere until we've found Joseph and made sure he's—'

  But before Ben could finish, something silenced him. From the ceiling of the room, he became aware of a dull red light, flashing metronomically. He glanced up at it, and was aware that Lucian was also looking at the light with satisfaction.

  'It's flashing all the way down the corridor, Ben,' he heard Annie say tensely from behind him.

  Lucian smiled his unpleasant smile once more. 'Of course it is,' he said. 'It's been so nice having this little chat with you – thank you for being so interested in what I have to say. And while we've been jabbering away, of course, Flight Lieutenant Johnson has been a good little soldier and checked your cell, just as I told him to. They've discovered you're missing, and they're taking the necessary precautions.'

  Ben and Annie looked at each other with barely disguised panic.

  'You might as well put the gun down,' Lucian continued implacably, 'and stop your silly, childish little games. This is grown-ups' business now. They're shutting the place down and there's no way out. And when they get their hands on you, you'll be taken to the same place as Lucian. Sorry, kids, but I'm afraid you're not in for a very good day.'

  Chapter Sixteen

  The red light continued to flash. Somehow Ben felt it would be less sinister if there had been some kind of siren to go with it, but there wasn't: just a repetitive, silent warning that they were in real danger. Each time it lit up, it bathed Lucian's face in its dusty red glow: the flatness in his eyes and the strange effect of the lighting made him look somehow demonic.

  Ben's mind was a mass of confusion, but he had to think quickly. No doubt some of Lucian's renegade soldiers were already on their way, heavily armed and under strict instructions to apprehend them, and then who could say what? There was no point running – they would only get lost in this underground warren of dingy concrete corridors – and soon enough they would be found and overcome. 'What are we going to do, Ben?' he heard Annie whisper.

  'The only thing we can,' he said tensely as a sketchy plan started to form in his head. It wasn't much, but it would have to do until he could think of something better. He took a step towards Lucian, still brandishing the handgun. 'You're going to get us out of here,' he instructed, 'and you're going to take us to Joseph.'

  One of the old man's eyebrows shot up. 'Really?' he asked sarcastically. 'And why would I do that? What possible reason would I have when I know there are armed soldiers on their way to deal with you?'

  Abruptly, Ben walked around the table bearing Vortex and rushed up to Lucian. 'You're going to do it because you know we haven't got a thing to lose. If it's a choice between being blown to smithereens with Joseph, or shooting you, I swear I'll do what I have to do.'

  Ben struggled to keep control of his emotions. He didn't really think he would ever be able to bring himself to shoot a man, even someone as loathsome as Lucian, but he couldn't let on that this was the case. Their lives depended on it. It seemed to work. As he thrust the gun into the loose flesh of Lucian's neck, the old man appeared suddenly wrong-footed and scared. 'I will shoot you,' Ben whispered with all the seriousness he could muster. Then, without taking his eyes from his hostage's face, he spoke to his cousin. 'Annie, are you wearing a belt?'

  'Yeah. Why?'

  'Take it off. We need to tie his hands behind his back. Do it tightly.'

  Immediately Annie was there, belt in hands. Lucian, his face full of hatred, obediently put his arms behind his back, then winced slightly as Annie pulled the leather belt firmly around his wrists before tying it into a tight and sturdy knot. 'He won't get out of that,' she said.

  'Right.' Ben was improvising as he went along, but he knew he had to sound sure of himself. He moved behind Lucian, pointed the gun between his shoulder blades and dug it in sharply. He felt h
is hand shaking as he did so. He didn't like holding a gun. It didn't feel right. 'Walk,' he said with more confidence than he felt. 'You're going to take us to the exit. Mess up and I'll shoot.'

  Lucian stood still. 'You'll never make it,' he said. 'They'll be on their way even now.'

  'Shut up and walk,' Ben growled. Slowly, Lucian made his way to the door, Ben following, the gun still pressed against the old man's back and Annie by his side. They started to walk down the corridors, which Lucian navigated with ease. Ben was acutely aware of the fact that he couldn't be sure if his hostage was leading them in the correct direction or not; he just had to trust that he had instilled sufficient fear into the old man to stop him from trying it on. It was a long shot – Lucian hadn't reacted to being at the wrong end of the barrel of a gun in quite the way he had expected. In fact, he had seemed far more distressed at the idea of his metal cylinder being damaged than anything else.

  He jabbed the gun sharply into Lucian's back. 'Faster,' he said, and the old man picked up pace.

  It was eerie, hurrying along those deserted corridors with the red lights flashing silently. Every time they turned a corner, Ben expected to see a group of heavily armed soldiers waiting for them, guns at the ready; but they never appeared. 'How close are we to the exit?' Ben demanded when they had been walking for a couple of minutes.

  'Too close.' A voice rang out clearly from behind them, and they came to an abrupt halt. Ben's blood turned to ice as he realized they had been so concerned with checking what was coming up ahead of them that they had forgotten to look over their shoulder.

  'The girl's in my sights,' the voice informed them. 'I'm going to count to five. If you haven't put the gun on the ground by then, I'll shoot her.'

  Ben's eyes flicked over to Annie. She had instinctively put her hands in the air.