At least he could be open and honest with her from now on because she knew who he was. But then would she want to stay friends? And did they have any hope of a future?
Jordan wanted to get himself and Amy out of this mess on his own. He didn’t want to rely on Unit Red, especially when he was determined to keep Amy secret. But they were in big trouble. He had little choice. Concentrating enough to log on to the Unit Red computer was difficult under the circumstances. It took him three attempts to gain access. Then he left a message. In a van, kidnapped by Melissa Pink. Arm broken. No idea where going. Will update when I can.
What would Angel make of that? He’d know what was happening, but what could he do about it? To attempt any sort of rescue, he’d have to know where Jordan was. But Jordan didn’t have a clue. There were no windows in the back of the van.
Winter stood between the silos with half of Jordan’s arm in her hand. The GPS device that revealed Jordan’s location at all times was in this part of his false arm. Into her phone, she said, “No, it’s not Jordan. It’s the section from the hand to the elbow. That’s all.”
“Is there any blood on it?” asked Angel.
“No. They’ve detached it at the elbow. He’s probably okay. But we’ve lost our trace. Has he got his mobile on?”
“No.”
“So, unless he can tell us where he is, he’s on his own.”
“That’s not the only problem,” Angel replied.
“I know,” Winter said.
After Jordan’s robotic hand had been damaged by caustic, Angel had ordered a GPS chip to be inserted under the new silicone skin when his right arm had been de-gloved. Then, after the Hunstanton incident, Angel had decided that tracking Jordan’s position wasn’t enough. He’d told the technician who had tested Jordan’s false arm to slip a microphone secretly into the thumb. Unit Red had heard everything that had been said among the grain silos.
“We need to find Jordan,” Angel said. “And we need to find Amy Goss. Then you’re going to have to deal with her, Winter. We can’t afford another security risk.”
The tyre noise changed. The van was driving over gravel when it came to a sudden halt. The rear doors banged open, daylight stung Jordan’s eyes, and he was bundled outside. He was standing on a stony path that led to a simple and isolated jetty. He didn’t recognize the area. There were bushes on either side but no buildings within sight and the shoreline showed no distinguishing features. Melissa’s men were pouring out of a second van. Within seconds, Jordan was marched towards a rundown fishing boat, an armed guard on each side of him. Melissa was in front, Amy was behind.
They were shoved on board and pushed roughly onto smelly upturned crates that had once held the boat’s catch. The wheelhouse was at the front and the stern was full of rusting equipment for catching, handling and storing fish. A metal arch with pulleys and dangling ropes bridged the two sides of the boat. In one corner, there were some rotting fish-heads.
Melissa smiled spitefully at Jordan and said, “Look around. We’ve got hooks, winches, chains, rope, nets, all sorts of instruments. Any of them could be used imaginatively to make you talk. And, believe me, I can be very inventive.”
Jordan shuddered. He could see how a traditional trawler could easily become a torture chamber. While he glanced around he also engaged his terahertz vision. Three of Melissa’s men had concealed knives and the other two were carrying guns. As he lowered his eyes, he noticed that the bald and bearded minder had a second gun in a holster strapped to the bottom of his leg, just above his right ankle. There was also a knife attached to his left leg. Having encountered Jordan in the sports club, he was taking no chances this time.
Jordan recognized three of the men who had tried to dunk him in caustic solution. One had an ugly scar on his cheek and Jordan wondered if he’d caused the wound when he’d flung the corrosive liquid at them. The thug deserved it, but was no doubt hungry to get even now.
Melissa shouted to someone in the wheelhouse, “Okay. Let’s head out.”
One of the crew untied the mooring ropes and the engine throbbed louder. The fishing boat made for deep water.
Jordan forced his mind to go online. It wasn’t easy to stay alert and, at the same time, think his password into the Unit Red system. Once again, it took several attempts. As soon as he logged on, he left another message. On an old fishing boat at sea. No idea where. It wasn’t a helpful message, but he had to do something. As an afterthought, he added, They’ve got guns. He did not sign out of the system.
He glanced at Amy. Her expression was a mixture of fear and defiance. He wondered where her loyalties now lay. If Melissa Pink quizzed her about him, what would she say? Would Amy lie for him or would she blurt out all that she knew? Jordan wasn’t sure. He was familiar only with the younger Amy. That Amy would never have betrayed Ben Smith. But Jordan Stryker had duped this Amy and she knew it. She owed him nothing. She might even bear him a grudge.
Melissa stood up straight and sniffed the sea air. “Ah. Bracing.” She turned to her captives and said, “I like boats. You’re out in the open, but no one sees or hears. And no one escapes. If anyone happens to realize where you are, we can see them coming from a long way off.” She nodded at her bald bodyguard and he seemed to understand what she wanted. He stepped forward, untied them and yanked the sticky tape from both of their mouths.
Jordan let out a quiet yelp and swallowed a couple of times. Amy spat over the side of the trawler.
“Now mobiles,” Melissa added.
The same thug went through their pockets and extracted their phones. Once he’d handed them to Melissa, she pitched them over her shoulder and into the sea. Then she sat down, well away from Jordan and Amy, rested her head on the rail and closed her eyes as if she were a tourist relaxing on a cruise.
It struck Jordan that Melissa avoided getting close to them as if she were scared of catching germs. When there had to be contact, she got her bouncers to step in. Perhaps it was her way of remaining superior. Perhaps she just didn’t want to leave any evidence on her victims.
A few noisy and hopeful seagulls followed the trawler for a while, but they scattered as soon as they realized there were no fish to scavenge.
“How far can you swim? With a disability like yours,” Melissa said, opening her eyes and staring at Jordan, “not far at all. But I don’t know about you, young Goss. So, I’m taking no chances. Let’s have a chat when we’ve gone a bit further. The water’s so cold out there even strong swimmers don’t last long.”
Jordan looked at what was left of his artificial arm. He sent a message to flex his fingers and, of course, nothing happened. Checking what movement he had still got, he found he could move the stump forwards and backwards – like the arm action of a marching soldier – but nothing more.
Amy watched him testing his right arm, but she said nothing.
Jordan knew she had plenty to say to him, but she’d stay silent while Melissa and her heavies hovered over them like big birds of prey.
After about twenty minutes, Melissa stood up again and went towards the wheelhouse. “That’ll do,” she said to someone inside. Then she returned to the rear of the boat.
Jordan’s heart began to pound even more than before.
The trawler rocked gently and the engine chugged idly. Standing in the centre of the stern and facing Amy, Melissa jerked her thumb in Jordan’s direction. “What do you know about him?”
“Almost nothing,” Amy replied. “We bumped into each other after your lot chased him out of the sports club a couple of weeks back.” She shrugged. “That’s it really.”
“And from that sprang a beautiful relationship?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“How would you put it?”
Amy shrugged again. “He’s all right. We met twice more.”
“Did you ask to see him or was it the other way round?”
“He came to me.”
Overhead, a commercial aircraft made its way n
oisily towards the mainland.
Melissa looked around again. No doubt she wanted to give the impression that she wasn’t in a hurry. “Mmm. It’s nice out here. Quite calm and sunny today. Can’t see much of the land. I gave some of your dad’s people a tour like this. It was their last chance to switch sides. The ones that didn’t take it were counted as victims of the Thames explosion. Very convenient.” She paused before adding, “That was somewhere different, you understand. We’re nowhere near the estuary here.”
Jordan wondered if that was the truth or a double bluff. He was desperate to find out where they were.
Abruptly, Melissa turned back to Amy. “You’re hiding something.”
Amy shook her head and then changed her mind. “Oh. He fancies himself as a hero. He dragged someone from a burning car. I was impressed with that. And he doesn’t go to school. He gets home tuition.”
“There’s more.”
“Er... He lost his real arm in a car accident.”
Jordan recognized edginess in her voice. He guessed that she was nervous. He also thought that, inside, she was seething with rage.
“Put your mind to it,” Melissa said as she fingered a large boathook. “You might come up with something worthwhile.”
“I can’t... No. There’s one more thing.” She glanced sideways at Jordan and said, “He lives next door to one of my teachers.”
Melissa nodded. “You’re not trying hard enough. Perhaps a bit of persuasion... But first...” She turned towards Jordan. “You puzzle me, Stryker. And I don’t like puzzles. I like to know things. If a member of the great British public has their arm ripped off in a car crash, the NHS doesn’t provide a false one like yours. They get something tinny and basic. It makes them feel better about themselves and makes it easier for the rest of us to look at them and forget they got hurt. They don’t get what you’ve got – or what you had. That’s a lot more than basic. It’s very special. A lethal weapon. So, someone’s backing you with money and power. Maybe it’s not young Amy’s dad. Maybe I was wrong.” She paused. “I don’t like being wrong any more than I like puzzles. So, talk to me. Explain.”
The guard with the shaggy beard stood to her left and the second stood to her right, next to a crate of dirty nets. Both men were still holding guns. One was trained on Amy, the other on Jordan.
He decided to throw Melissa a titbit. He hoped it might satisfy her curiosity. “All right. My arm came off in the Thames explosion...”
“I’m not stupid. I’d guessed that.”
“I wanted to find out who mashed me up so I started asking...”
Melissa interrupted again. “It’s the bit in between that interests me. You can’t do that without backup. If it’s not Goss’s outfit, who’s behind you? I want to know. I want to know who patched you up and told you to start asking questions about the bombing.”
Jordan shook his head.
She sighed loudly. Bending down, she picked up an old, rusting fish hook from one of the equipment chests and then fiddled with it in her hand. “Have you ever wondered about fish?” she asked. “I have. It’s the way we catch them. Not nets. When we hook them with this sort of thing.” She held out the vicious barbed hook. “It goes right through the cheek. Is it called a cheek if you’re a fish? Anyway, I bet it hurts when we pull them out of the sea.”
Jordan didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that he was afraid.
“This is a good opportunity for some research. If we try it on you, we’ll soon find out.” She handed the hook to one of her henchmen.
It was the bald guy. He put his gun back inside his jacket and, holding the hook in his right hand, advanced eagerly on Jordan. He was about to grab Jordan’s jaw with his nicotine-stained left fingers, when he hesitated. “His eyes are funny, boss. Know what I mean?”
“Are they?” she replied, but she didn’t take a close look herself. “What’s going on with them?” she asked Jordan. “Have you had something done to them?”
Jordan swallowed before he could talk. “They got scratched and stuff. I had to have an operation to put them right.”
“What else have you had done?” she demanded to know.
“Nothing else like my arm, if that’s what you mean. Just lots of operations.”
Melissa smiled. “You’re like some ageing celebrity. Cosmetic surgeons crawling all over you. Someone wanted you in good condition for a reason. Undress him. Let’s take a look.”
Jordan shrank back.
“Come on,” she said. “Don’t be shy. If you resist, it’ll be worse. We’ll tie you up in nets.”
They yanked off his top and trousers, but at least they left him in his pants. They dragged him to his feet and prowled around, examining him as if he were some sort of exhibit or freak.
The thug with the disfigured face said, “There’s something in his leg.” He reached for the knife that was concealed inside his leather jacket.
“No!” Jordan recoiled even before the guy got it out.
Melissa exclaimed, “You know he’s got a knife! How?”
“I don’t,” Jordan lied. “It’s just that... It’s not hard to guess. He looked like he was going to cut me up.”
Melissa wasn’t entirely satisfied, but she didn’t pursue it. “What’s in your leg?”
“It’s a battery. That’s all. It powers my arm.”
“Do you see yourself as some sort of James Bond? He had lots of gadgets.” She laughed. “That makes me a Bond villain. But they were all fools. They strapped our James into some contraption to kill him and then left, giving him time and opportunity to escape. That’s not me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here till the job’s done.” Checking with her heavies, she asked, “Nothing else bionic and dangerous?”
“No. Just lots of scars.”
Luckily his brain implants weren’t obvious. His hair hid the marks.
“Carry on with the experiment.”
The bald thug looked puzzled.
“To find out if it hurts when you’re hooked. I’ve got a hunch it’s as painful as it looks, but we’d better make sure.”
The bouncer’s face creased into a repulsive smile. He forced Jordan’s jaws apart with the foul stained fingers of his left hand. Enjoying himself, he shoved the barbed hook into Jordan’s mouth with his right.
Flinching, Amy looked away.
21 UNDERWATER
“All right!” Jordan choked over his words because of the dirty fingers in his mouth. “I’ll tell you the truth.”
Melissa nodded at the gangster and, denied the chance to torture Jordan, he stepped back, disappointed.
Jordan steadied himself and, head down, took a few deep breaths. The horrible taste lingered in his mouth. Another aeroplane emerged out of the cloud when he looked up. “My mum was in the police. When my family died in the estuary explosion, the police looked after me. They asked me to find out what happened as a sort of payback for patching me up.”
Melissa didn’t reply at first. She simply stared at him. Then she shook her head. “You’re holding back. Those crazy eyes tell me there’s more. And I don’t believe in the Police Youth Squad for a second.”
The captain called from the wheelhouse. “Low-flying helicopter coming in!”
Melissa did not have to give any orders. The crew executed a routine that was as practised as a school fire drill. Within seconds, Jordan and Amy had been tossed roughly into separate crates and covered with nets. Men stood over them with knives, pretending to mend the nets. One crew member operated the winch and two more pretended to ready the fishing tackle. Melissa was out of sight in the wheelhouse. From above, the trawler would seem to be going about its business of catching fish.
From the coffin-like box, Jordan could not see very much. He heard the helicopter approach, he saw it flash past, and he listened to the fading sound of its rotors with a sinking feeling.
But, while he lay there in his underwear, before the torture began again, he thought another
message onto Angel’s computer. Was that Winter in a helicopter? It just came close.
Angel must have been online because, in his mind, Jordan saw an immediate response. No.
Can’t you use it to find out where I am?
What type was it?
Not sure. Something like Coastal Rescue written down the side.
Angel’s typed reply appeared gradually in his mind. Good. I’ll get onto the Coastguard and find out where they’ve got a chopper in the air.
We’re on a flight path as well. Two planes have gone overhead about ten minutes apart.
Leaving or coming in to land?
Heading inland.
That’ll help to fix your position. I’m working on it.
As two men dragged him out of the crate, Jordan lost contact with Unit Red but, for the first time, he sensed hope. He tried not to show it, though.
“I’m sick of the sight of you like that,” Melissa said to Jordan. “Get dressed.”
It wasn’t easy to put his clothes back on with one hand and a stump.
When he’d finished, she stood in front of him and Amy, glancing from one to the other with a sneer on her pale face. “Sorry about the interruption. I think we can resume our session now.” She scratched at her nose and sniffed loudly. “What if I said only one of you is going to survive? Who’d volunteer to go under to save the other? It’s interesting to speculate, isn’t it? And it’d be fun to find out.” Fixing her eyes on Amy, she continued, “If he’s only chatted you up three times and there’s nothing between you, it won’t upset you much to see him die. That’s no use.” She shifted her gaze to Jordan, “So, I’ll let you watch her die. That’ll get things moving because you’re the type to get upset. Perfect.”
Melissa gave another of her knowing nods. This time, it was directed at the man standing by the winch.
“It’s a variation on waterskiing, I suppose,” she announced. “Only it happens under the water. And, believe me, your dad’s men couldn’t take it. Not a single one. Let’s see how you get on.”
Bionic Agent Page 15