Counterstrike

by Peter Jay Black

Slink looked at him. ‘You’ve got something?’

  ‘It’s this or nothing. Wren?’ he called.

  When Jack had finished explaining his plan, they were all frowning at him.

  ‘So, Jack,’ Slink said, glancing at Wren and Obi, ‘I’ve got like one tiny question.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘How do you figure that what you just said is stealthy?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Sometimes the most obvious way is the best way.’

  ‘Well,’ Slink said, ‘as usual, it’s completely crazy, dangerous and we are so gonna get caught.’

  ‘You’re up for it then?’ Jack said.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Slink grinned. ‘Of course I am. Proper up for it.’

  ‘Me too,’ Wren said.

  Jack cracked a smile at them.

  At last, they were getting somewhere.

  • • •

  That night Jack and Slink hid behind a skip and watched as Wren hurried up to the stage door of The Globe.

  She glanced around, then knocked quietly.

  After a minute, a woman wearing a black shirt and trousers answered. She looked down at Wren. ‘Hello,’ she whispered.

  Wren was crying. ‘H-hi.’

  The woman glanced about. ‘Are you lost?’

  Wren nodded and tears streamed down her face.

  ‘Hey,’ the woman said, kneeling in front of her. ‘It’s OK.’

  Wren shook her head. ‘I can’t find them.’

  ‘Who?’

  Wren sniffed. ‘Mum and Dad.’

  The woman glanced over her shoulder. ‘Where did you last see them?’

  Wren’s shoulders moved in silent sobs. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you know their phone number?’

  Wren shook her head.

  The woman took a breath, glanced behind her again, then back at Wren. ‘Come on, you can wait in here and we’ll call someone, but you have to be extra, extra quiet, OK?’

  Wren sniffed again and took the woman’s hand. ‘OK. I promise.’ She looked back at Jack and Slink and grinned.

  ‘She’s scarily good at that,’ Slink whispered.

  ‘Yep.’

  Wren and the woman went inside, and as the door closed Wren dropped a sponge, preventing it from clicking shut.

  ‘Remember,’ Jack said, turning to Slink, ‘if we’re not back in ten minutes –’

  ‘Smash the door down and come in after you.’

  ‘No,’ Jack said, staring at him. ‘They’ll just throw us out, not arrest us.’ At least he hoped so. Jack glanced at the door. ‘If we’re not back here in ten minutes, come see what’s happening, but don’t get caught. Right?’

  ‘No worries.’

  Jack hurried to the stage door, peered through the gap and snuck inside.

  The backstage area was filled with five or six people dressed in black. They were all facing the other way, so Jack ducked behind a rack of costumes. He held his breath for a few seconds and peered around the corner.

  Wren was sitting on a stool, while the woman comforted her in quiet whispers.

  Jack could hear the play was in full swing and the audience laughed and clapped.

  With everyone distracted, Jack moved as silently as he could, edged around the clothes rack and stepped to a table. He glanced over the objects, but it was impossible to tell what belonged to John Grant.

  Footsteps made Jack jump back and a woman in a long flowing costume breezed past and on to the stage.

  Jack let out a breath and, keeping as low as he could, he moved to another rack of clothes and bags and started checking all the men’s trousers and jackets, searching each pocket in turn.

  Every time he found a wallet, Jack checked the name on the credit cards and finally found the right one. There were three cards inside – two credit cards and a blank one with no markings, lettering or logos.

  That’s really stupid, he thought. Using a plain card made it stand out. They should’ve disguised it as another credit card or something.

  He slipped a card reader from his jacket pocket, swiped the security card and checked the display on the reader. A series of numbers and letters scrolled past. Jack stored the code, then swiped the card again for good measure. When he was sure he’d copied it, he slipped the card back into the wallet.

  More footsteps behind him – someone was coming.

  Jack pulled back behind the rack just in time to see a tall man dressed in a gold and white costume stride past. The man took a breath and stepped on to the stage.

  Staying hidden, Jack pulled Charlie’s fingerprint scanner from his pocket. It looked like a modified calculator. He used it to scan each of the credit cards in turn, but to his horror none of them revealed any fingerprints.

  Jack checked the wallet itself – same result.

  He stared at it for a moment. Without fingerprints, the card was useless.

  Jack stayed still for a several seconds, closed his eyes and tried to think. His mind moved sluggishly through several plans and he’d got to number four when it hit him.

  Jack’s eyes flew open.

  He had an idea.

  Thank God.

  It wasn’t a very good one, but with a bit of luck . . .

  Keeping his eyes on a group of actors with their backs to him, Jack darted out from behind the clothes rack, hurried behind the main stage and opened a door that led underneath.

  He snuck through and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, Jack’s eyes adjusted to the gloom and he spotted the ropes and pulleys.

  Keeping his voice as low as he could, Jack whispered into his headset, ‘Wren?’

  There was a sniff in reply.

  ‘Listen carefully,’ he breathed, and he explained what he wanted her to do. ‘Have you got it?’

  Another sniff.

  Jack reached up with his penknife until the blade was hovering over one of the ropes above his head. ‘Say when.’

  He could imagine Wren peering at the stage and the actors.

  A couple of minutes went by and Jack listened to the play going on above him with increasing anxiety knotting his stomach.

  His arm started to shake.

  Finally Wren sniffed twice.

  Jack sliced through the rope, a trapdoor opened in the stage and the audience gasped as John Grant plummeted through.

  Jack pulled back into a darkened corner as the man lay dazed on the mat, staring up at the trapdoor.

  One of the actors on the stage above looked down at him. ‘Are you all right?’ he hissed.

  John checked himself over, then nodded.

  The audience’s excited chatter grew in intensity.

  The second actor glanced over his shoulder at them, then back to John. ‘Can you get up here?’

  John seemed to shake himself back to reality. He rolled off the mat, stood up and dusted himself off. His eyes roamed over the trapdoor, the rope and the pulleys.

  Then he reached up, shut the trapdoor and secured it in place with a heavy bolt.

  For a few beats Jack thought John suspected something, but to his relief the man spun on his heels, threw open the door and ran up the stairs.

  Ten seconds later, the crowd roared and clapped.

  Jack could imagine him taking a flamboyant bow.

  Wasting no time, Jack stepped to the door and knelt down. ‘I hope this worked,’ he muttered to himself. He took out Charlie’s scanner and held it over the door handle. To his relief, a set of fingerprints emerged on the display.

  Jack smiled to himself and scanned the prints several more times, making sure he definitely had them. There was no way he was going through all this hassle again.

  Finally satisfied, he slipped the scanner back into his pocket and straightened up.

  ‘OK, Wren,’ he whispered into the headset. ‘Keep them distracted while I get out of here.’

  Jack crept through the door, went up the stairs and inched past the racks of costumes to the rear stage door. He glanced back to see Wren had turned the waterwo
rks up to maximum and a small crowd had gathered around her.

  With them distracted, Jack went to turn the door handle, but someone grabbed his arm.

  Startled, he looked up. It was the woman who’d answered the door to Wren in the first place.

  She glared at Jack. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Err.’ Jack’s thoughts stuttered.

  She glanced about. ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed.

  ‘I, err, I –’

  ‘Jack.’ Wren came hurrying over, her face lighting up.

  The woman released Jack’s arm and stepped back as Wren hugged him.

  ‘Where were you? I was so scared.’

  Jack looked around at the people. ‘I was . . . I was outside, searching for you.’ He gestured at the door. ‘It was open.’

  ‘Is this your brother?’ the woman asked Wren.

  Wren gave her a fervent nod and turned back to Jack. ‘Where’re Mum and Dad?’

  ‘They’re – They’re looking around at the front. They were about to call the police.’

  Wren thanked the backstage people, then took Jack’s hand and led him away from the Globe before anyone had time to think.

  ‘Thanks,’ Jack said as they rounded the corner. ‘I owe you one.’

  A glimmer of concern flitted over Wren’s face.

  Jack knew what she was thinking – it was unlike him not to react quickly in such a situation. But they could take some time off after the Facility mission. For now, they had a lot still to do.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Slink said, hurrying over to them. ‘I was about to give up and come looking for ya.’

  ‘I’ll explain later, but it worked.’ Jack tapped his pocket. ‘I’ve got his fingerprints and a copy of his card.’

  ‘Nice one.’

  As they marched down the alley, away from the Globe, Wren said, ‘Can we go back one day and see one of those plays?’

  ‘I didn’t know you liked Shakespeare,’ Slink said.

  Wren frowned. ‘I don’t think I do. But the costumes are pretty.’

  • • •

  Back at the bunker, Jack, Slink and Wren went through the airlock door.

  ‘Good work, you guys,’ Obi said.

  ‘Want us to make snacks before bed?’ Wren asked Jack.

  ‘I’m OK.’ He felt guilty that he’d not pulled his weight recently when it came to chores, but he’d make it up to them later. Right at that moment he needed to focus all his attention on planning the rest of the Facility mission before Hector got there.

  Jack needed quiet time, so he hurried to his bedroom.

  It was minimally furnished, with a single bed, wardrobe and bedside cabinet. An Albert Einstein clock hung on the wall.

  First he called Domino – a friend of theirs with a set of unique skills – and explained what he needed. To his relief she agreed, and said she’d phone the others for him too.

  Jack hung up, lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

  The next task on his list was to get them past the server room. He closed his eyes and remembered the layout from the three-dimensional plan.

  The server room was like a maze with its many twists and turns. Jack concentrated and could see the path in front of him. He’d gone wrong several times before in the 3D simulation, but he had gone back so he could work out the correct path.

  Now all he needed to do was follow that route and make sure he committed it exactly to memory.

  He took a breath, passed between the server cabinets and took the first right. At the next junction, Jack went right again, then left . . . He continued forward, past the first right and then turned down the second.

  Suddenly he came to a clearing.

  Wait, this wasn’t correct – there was supposed to be another row of servers.

  Should he have gone left instead?

  Jack was about to turn back when he noticed five beds on the opposite side of the clearing.

  Bodies lay in the first four, covered in white sheets.

  The fifth was empty.

  With trepidation, Jack walked over to them. He looked down at the first bed, and before he knew it his hand was outstretched and clutching the edge of the sheet.

  Heart hammering in his chest, he yanked it off and gasped.

  Lying on the bed, pale and lifeless, was Charlie.

  ‘No.’

  Jack tore his eyes from her, hurried to the next bed and pulled the sheet off that one too.

  Staring up at him with dead eyes was Obi.

  ‘Oh, God. No.’

  Jack ran to the other two beds and, sure enough, the waxy, rigid forms of Slink and Wren lay there.

  He backed away, shaking his head.

  This wasn’t happening.

  What had gone wrong? How had they got here?

  What had he done?

  This was his fault – he knew it.

  Suddenly there was a massive explosion and the server cabinets collapsed on top of him.

  Jack screamed, scrambling to free himself. ‘No. Help. Help me!’

  ‘Jack?’

  The cabinets around him shook. He tried to wriggle out from under them, but he couldn’t move – they pinned him to the floor, crushing him.

  A thick blanket of smoke slid over Jack’s face, choking him. ‘Help. Help!’

  ‘Jack. Wake up.’

  Jack’s eyes flew open.

  Slink was holding him by the shoulders, looking worried. ‘Are you all right?’ He let go and stepped back.

  Jack sat up and wiped sweat from his brow. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Slink said. ‘You were shouting.’

  Jack swung his legs out of bed and shook his head. ‘I must have fallen asleep.’ He felt his cheeks flush.

  ‘Yeah, you must have.’

  ‘I was running through the route past the server cabinets.’

  ‘Do you want a breakfast sandwich?’ Slink said after a moment. ‘Me and Wren are making some.’

  ‘Huh?’ Jack looked at the clock. ‘Ten?’ he said, his eyes wide. ‘In the morning?’

  ‘Of course,’ Slink said.

  ‘Oh no.’

  That meant they only had that day left.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Slink frowned at Jack. ‘Why don’t you get a couple hours’ more sleep? You look knackered, mate.’

  Jack shook off the grogginess. ‘No. There’s no time. Like I said – we’ll have to go in a few hours before Hector does.’

  Slink stared at him. ‘Is that even possible?’

  Jack stood up. ‘We’ve got to try, but there’s still work to be done.’ Besides, he’d now wasted an entire night too. ‘I’ve got to figure out how to get past that tank room, remember?’

  And get that retracting bridge extended.

  John Grant’s fingerprints and card still only got them down to the first level. From then on, they were on their own.

  Jack rubbed his aching temples. If it hadn’t been for the John Grant mission, he would’ve had most of the other stuff done by now.

  Slink walked to the door and turned back. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Jack gave him a weak smile. ‘Thanks. Come on, I have another idea, and you’re going to like this one.’

  Together they went back to the main bunker and over to Obi’s chair.

  Wren handed Jack a sandwich. ‘It’s egg and bacon,’ she said. ‘There’s more if you want it.’

  Jack took a bite. ‘Cheers.’ He nodded at the far right-hand screen, which had a map of London. ‘Obi, can you find somewhere Slink can practise climbing?’

  ‘Practise?’ Slink looked offended. ‘Since when have I ever needed to practise?’

  ‘This is one of those times I think it’s best you do,’ Jack said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Wren said as she walked over to the games area. ‘You remember when you had to jump between the buildings to get to the roof and help save Charlie from Connor? If you hadn’t practised, you wouldn’t have known you needed Charlie’s s
pring shoes. And if you hadn’t used the spring shoes –’

  ‘I would’ve gone splat.’ Slink turned to Jack. ‘All right, fair point.’

  ‘What kind of place are you looking for?’ Obi asked Jack.

  Jack continued eating his sandwich and thought for a moment. Finally he said, ‘You remember the bridge over that weird tank thing in the Facility?’

  ‘Yeah. The one that needs a chip to activate it?’

  ‘Well, we don’t have a way to get a chip, but I noticed that you can extend it from the far side of the tank.’

  ‘So I’ve gotta climb over?’ Slink asked, looking hopeful.

  ‘Exactly.’ Jack took another large bite of sandwich, swallowed and said, ‘Once you’re on the other side, you can activate the bridge so the rest of us can get across.’ He nodded at Obi. ‘The ceiling was supported by a load of metal beams.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘So do you think you can find somewhere similar in London where Slink can practise?’ Jack asked.

  ‘On it.’ Obi clicked the trackerball.

  As Jack finished his sandwich his phone beeped. He looked at the display. ‘Perfect timing.’ He glanced at Obi. ‘Let me know when you’ve found a good climbing location.’ Jack headed to the airlock door.

  ‘Where are you going now?’ Slink called.

  ‘I have to go quickly to see Noble. He’s helping us find out what’s in the mystery room.’

  ‘Want me and Wren to come with you?’

  ‘I should be OK, thanks,’ Jack said. ‘You two take it easy. You’re going to need your strength for the Facility mission.’

  ‘Hey,’ Wren said to Slink as she sat at the racing game, ‘you wanna lose for like, the billionth time?’

  Slink clapped his hands together. ‘Not this time, Tinkerbell.’

  Jack hit the button on the airlock door and stepped through.

  • • •

  An hour later Jack stood at the front gates of Buckingham Palace and stared up at the immense building. He tried to imagine what it would be like if the Urban Outlaws lived there. It was so huge they’d probably waste their entire time looking for each other, rather than planning missions.

  Perhaps Charlie could make some kind of tracking device for each of them. Or maybe one of those key-rings that beeped when you whistled.

  Mind you, that would be a bad idea, Jack thought. He could well imagine Slink continually whistling and setting them off all the time.