Deep Trouble

by Rob Stevens

  ‘This must be it,’ Archie said excitedly, grabbing the knob. He didn’t know what ‘FF’ stood for but he was pretty sure the top two positions moved the bridge Up and Down.

  ‘STOP!’ Gemma yelled.

  Shocked by Agent X-ray’s outburst, he released the lever and spun round.

  ‘What’s up?’ he demanded.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ Gemma replied. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Who did then?’

  The agents stood in silent confusion for a moment, then the sound of footsteps from the other side of the room drew their attention.

  Archie watched in fear as a grisly man stepped from the gloom. He was about six feet tall with dark skin and a shadow of bristles over his shaved head and square jaw. His face was bisected by one thick black eyebrow, sitting above tiny eyes that were sunken deep into their sockets. As he grinned menacingly he revealed a mouth full of metal. He was wearing a grubby white vest stretched over his powerful torso, and green overalls tied at his waist.

  One of his thick muscular arms was wrapped around a young girl’s neck – her black hair falling forward as she struggled, hiding her face.

  ‘Touch that lever again and I’ll break her neck,’ the man promised threateningly in an accent Archie placed somewhere in northern Germany.

  ‘Why would I care what you do to her?’ Archie replied, trying to sound as tough as he could. ‘Who is she anyway?’

  ‘See for yourself,’ the man sneered, gripping the girl’s head and yanking it back.

  As her hair fell from her face Archie’s mouth dropped open in utter confusion. He recognised her crooked fringe and the defiant curl of her mouth but for a moment he couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

  ‘Gemma?’ he whispered. ‘Is that you?’

  Archie’s eyes flicked from one Gemma to the other. The one standing at the edge of the fizzing moat looked exactly like his friend and fellow STINKBOMB agent, right down to the tiny details of her tight ponytail and expression of utter contempt. But maybe she was too composed, too perfect?

  The other Gemma, struggling in the grip of Evelyn Tension’s henchman, wore an unfamiliar expression – one of pure fear. He’d never seen Gemma’s hair tangled and loose but she could easily have lost her hair bobble in the struggle with the bad guy – and Archie was in no doubt that the real Gemma would have put up one heck of a struggle.

  ‘One of them must be Evelyn Tension in disguise,’ he muttered through the corner of his mouth. ‘But which one?’

  Barney shook his head. ‘They look identical to me.’

  ‘So how do I tell them apart?’

  ‘Come on, Yankee,’ the Gemma by the moat urged, planting her hands on her hips. ‘She’s a fake – just lower the bridge and let’s get on with this.’

  ‘She’s right,’ the other Gemma offered, her defiant tones grabbing Archie’s attention. ‘Don’t worry about me. You just need to do whatever it takes to rescue Winchester.’

  Archie’s gaze bounced from one to the other with quickening frequency as he tried desperately to identify the real Agent X-ray. If the Gemma he’d hidden with by the steel cylinder was a fake, then why hadn’t she grabbed him there and then? Unless she couldn’t be sure of capturing him and Barney at the same time? Then again, if the Gemma being held captive was a fake, would she really encourage him to lower the bridge and call her own bluff? Unless that in itself was a double bluff and the bridge was booby-trapped somehow? He could taste salt on his tongue as sweat trickled over his lip. His mind continued its tightening spirals, guessing and second-guessing the true identities of the two Gemmas in front of him.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ announced the Gemma standing by the moat. ‘If you’re not going to lower the bridge I will.’

  ‘Hold it right there,’ Archie ordered before she had taken her second stride towards him. ‘If you take one more step I’ll throw you in that acid myself.’

  Gemma froze, her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that a threat?’

  Archie shook his head. ‘It’s a promise.’

  Gemma kept her eyes locked on Archie’s for a few seconds and he wondered if she was going to test his resolve, but eventually she relaxed and signalled her compliance with a nod.

  If she is really Evelyn Tension, surely she’d have fancied her chances of beating me, one on one? Archie thought. Unless Tension had concluded that, having dispatched her guards, he was a force to be reckoned with? Or maybe she just couldn’t resist playing one last Evil Genius mind game before she destroyed the world?

  The more he tried to figure out the conundrum, the more confused he felt about who was who.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ he demanded of the henchman.

  ‘I want you and your tubby friend to lie face down on the floor with your hands behind your heads.’

  Archie’s eyes flickered towards the circular stage where the lethal laser beam was edging slowly but surely towards Adam Winchester’s groin. Even if he could disable the ray-gun he would still have to cross the moat to rescue Adam Winchester.

  Archie thought about his options and he knew exactly what was the right thing to do. All his training, the whole philosophy of STINKBOMB’s mission to preserve national security left him in no doubt as to how he ought to proceed.

  His training told him to ignore Gemma’s safety and pursue his mission’s objective, which was to rescue the Prime Minister. To do so he had to lower the bridge.

  He could hear Highwater’s words in his mind. One day, as a STINKBOMB agent, you may be called upon to sacrifice someone close to you in order to protect national security.

  One agent’s life was a small price to pay for a chance of averting all-out nuclear war. Sacrifice one life to save millions. If it was his own neck on the line he would do it, no question.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to lower the bridge and sign Gemma’s death warrant. There had to be another way.

  ‘I can’t tell them apart,’ he said to Barney through the side of his mouth.

  ‘We have to think,’ Barney urged. ‘Explore every inch of our knowledge.’

  ‘Knowledge – that’s it!’ Archie exclaimed, seeing a chance of distinguishing between the two girls. Addressing both Gemmas, he announced, ‘Girls go to college, to get more knowledge.’

  ‘Boys go to Jupiter,’ they responded in unison, ‘to get more stupider.’

  Archie grimaced with frustration. How did the fake Gemma know their codes?

  ‘Girls ace school,’ Barney said casually, ‘because they’re smart and cool.’

  Again both Gemmas replied together: ‘Boys are smelly and they watch too much telly.’

  Archie sighed with exasperation. ‘She knows all our passwords,’ he muttered, glancing at the lever on the wall. Suddenly it reminded him of an aircraft’s landing-gear lever, normally used to lower the undercarriage using hydraulic pressure. But if the hydraulic system is damaged the wheels can still be extended by allowing the gear to free-fall into position. ‘FF’ – free-fall!

  Barney cupped a hand over his mouth. ‘She must have access to our mission files. That means she’s up to speed with every trick in our book.’

  Suddenly a plan flashed into Archie’s mind. It was risky, but if it worked they might still have a chance of rescuing the Prime Minister without sacrificing Gemma.

  To Barney he muttered, ‘In that case we’ll just have to test her on something that isn’t written in our files. I need you to block their view of this lever.’

  Barney shuffled to his left and puffed out his chest.

  Turning to the other three people in the Command Room, Archie laughed maniacally. ‘I’m having so much fun right now,’ he exclaimed. Tightening his grip on the black knob, he slid the lever across and slammed it down, forcing it straight past the ‘D’ gate and snapping it into the detent marked ‘FF’. ‘In fact I’d go as far as to say, I’m having a blast.’

  Pivoting on the ceiling-mounted hinge, the thick metal strut was already halfway through its
swing by the time Archie had finished delivering the code. With immense power the huge pendulum accelerated down, gaining rapid momentum as the weight of the gangplank plummeted through a perfect arc. The silence of its progress only seemed to emphasise the lethal power it contained.

  Archie caught his breath as the sheer might of what he had unleashed became clear. If the real Gemma failed to react to his coded instruction she would be annihilated, like a condemned building at the mercy of a wrecking ball.

  Archie felt a slight breeze on his face as the pendulum forced the air from its path. Suddenly the Gemma who was standing near the moat threw herself to the floor. It seemed to Archie like an age since he’d spoken the code but in reality it was probably a fraction of a second – just long enough for his words to reach her ears, and the electric impulses from her brain to fire her muscles into action.

  As the real Gemma hit the deck, pressing herself flat against its cold hard surface, the pendulum reached the bottom of its arc, bridging the toxic moat for just an instant. But its momentum carried it through the vertical position and the section of walkway whistled over Gemma’s head, missing her by millimetres.

  Continuing its upward swing, the arm of the pendulum possessed considerable force when it struck the fake Gemma and the goon posing as her captor.

  Oblivious to the hammer-blow he was about to endure, he took the full force of the impact on his forehead. Grunting loudly as the steel walkway thumped into him, he flew off his feet and crashed across the room before slamming into a control panel.

  The replica Gemma seemed to catch a glimpse of the tethered missile as it neared her face and she managed to raise an arm in self-defence. Nevertheless she took a crashing blow to her jaw that sent her sprawling across the floor, coming to rest in a tangled, motionless heap.

  The real Gemma raised her head tentatively but quickly ducked again as the massive pendulum whistled millimetres above her again as it swung back towards its original position. When it had passed she scrambled out of its path before it returned on its next swing.

  ‘Well, she got what she deserved,’ she said, hauling herself to her feet.

  Archie smiled. ‘She certainly took it on the chin.’

  ‘I thought she really got into the swing of it,’ Barney added, puffing hard as he climbed to his feet.

  ‘You hit the deck too?’ Gemma noted. ‘I’m impressed, Zulu. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember our private little signal.’

  Barney’s face froze into a smile and he nodded rigidly. When Gemma looked away he cupped a hand to his mouth and whispered to Archie, ‘What signal is she talking about?’

  ‘The signal you devised,’ Archie whispered. ‘I’m having a blast was the code for all agents to drop to the floor. Hang on, what were you doing on the floor then?’

  Barney shifted awkwardly. ‘I think I may have experienced a momentary suspension of consciousness when the metal ramp connected with that dude’s forehead.’

  Archie replayed Barney’s words in his head for a moment, then his mouth fought to suppress a smile. ‘You mean you fainted?

  Barney bobbed his head sheepishly. ‘I can’t really handle the sight of blood.’

  A desperate stifled groan from the direction of the round platform reminded Archie that their mission was far from accomplished. Evelyn Tension may well have been neutralised but the fiendish chain reaction of events she had set in motion was still drawing the world towards certain destruction.

  The laser beam continued to edge ever closer to the Prime Minister, who was writhing helplessly on the circular slab.

  ‘Come on, let’s get him free – quickly!’ Archie ordered.

  The periodic screech of the ramp dragging on the ground at the bottom of each swing had now ceased. The section of walkway had come to rest balanced between the floor and the rim of the round platform, angled precariously over the boiling moat.

  Gemma reached the bridge first, testing its solidity with one foot. Satisfied it would hold firm, she stepped on to the gangway and, holding her arms out for balance, climbed the slope to the platform. As she knelt at Adam Winchester’s hand, examining the steel manacle clamped around his wrist, Barney stepped nervously on to the bridge.

  Archie stood at the foot of the steel gangplank and as he watched his friend edge gingerly towards the safety of the island, he felt the warm waters of triumph lapping at his toes. All they had to do was get the Prime Minister back to London, discredit his impersonator and put an end to this crisis. No one could stand in their way now.

  Then a murderous scream echoed round the Command Room, plunging Archie into an icy sea of absolute terror.

  Archie spun round to see Gemma’s double standing upright and looking at her reflection in a glass radar screen. Her lower jaw was twisted to one side, jutting out unnaturally beneath her ear.

  ‘MY FACE!!’ she shrieked, looking wildly at Archie. ‘Look what you’ve done to my face. It’s ruined!’

  ‘Strictly speaking, that isn’t your face at all,’ Archie’s voice quavered, as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘It’s hers.’

  ‘You’ll pay for this, you little oik,’ the fake Gemma snarled, slurring slightly due to her jaw being horribly wonky.

  She was holding a metal box housing a red and a green button. With a triumphant smirk she punched the red one with the heel of her hand and tossed the box away. Archie heard a mechanical whirr behind him but before he realised what it meant the giant pendulum had started to rotate and the metal gangplank motored into the air, stranding Gemma and Barney on the island.

  ‘Rats,’ Barney whispered, clenching his fists. ‘I should have known there’d be a portable override remote. There’s always a portable override remote.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Archie called out. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’

  The fake Gemma dug the nails of her right hand into her own neck just below her left ear, hooking her fingers round a flap of skin. Drawing her hand upward and back across her face, she let out a maniacal scream as she stripped away her disguise.

  The mask stretched and peeled off in one rubbery, sticky movement, finally releasing its grip on the impostor’s face with an elastic snap. The face beneath the mask was pale and slender with piercing green eyes.

  ‘Evelyn Tension,’ Archie muttered.

  ‘What a relief,’ the woman sighed. ‘Those masks are so bad for one’s skin, you know.’

  The mask hung limply from her hand like a ghoulish head that had been wrenched from its body and had its eyes removed. Evelyn Tension pulled off her wig to reveal a long mane of vivid copper-coloured hair. Then, grimacing and grunting, she grabbed her crooked jaw and yanked, twisting it with a grinding screech back round to its proper position.

  She exercised her mouth a couple of times then smiled sweetly at Archie, who couldn’t help thinking, in spite of himself, how pretty she now was.

  ‘That’s better,’ Tension purred, batting her thick dark eyelashes and letting out a girlish giggle. ‘Well, well. You must be Archie. Sweet, young Archie.’

  Archie couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. The freakish removal of the incredibly lifelike mask, followed by the inhuman way she had relocated her own jaw, told him Evelyn Tension was someone to treat with maximum caution. And yet now she seemed so innocent and kind, making it hard to believe she was capable of being a deadly assassin.

  ‘Now, now, young man,’ she scolded playfully, winking slowly. ‘Are you planning to take the Prime Minister away from me, you naughty boy?’

  Archie cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he replied. ‘The game is up.’

  ‘How do you intend getting back to London with him?’ she asked gently.

  Archie found the pleasantries both incongruous and oddly charming, but he also knew Tension was just biding her time. ‘Er . . . do you really expect me to stand here and chat all night?’

  ‘Not really, Master Hunt.’ She gave a sinister smile. ‘I expect you to die!’

 
As she spoke Evelyn Tension broke into a run, charging at Archie with fury in her eyes.

  Standing his ground, Archie waited until his attacker was within range, then ducked low and drove his right fist straight out towards her stomach. It was a textbook punch, timed to perfection and packed full of power.

  But it was matched by Tension’s blocking manoeuvre, swiping a hand downward and smacking Archie’s wrist, sending his punch flying harmlessly wide.

  ‘Aahh!’ he yelled, feeling as though his arm had been beaten with an iron bar.

  Tension followed up her block by driving the heel of her hand towards the bridge of Archie’s nose. The blow could have killed him if it had connected but he saw it coming at the last second and dropped his chin to his chest. Nevertheless the punch caught him square on the forehead and sent him sprawling on to his back, his head overhanging the edge of the bubbling chemical moat. Momentum carried his arms above his head and the knuckles of one hand skimmed the surface of the fluorescent fluid.

  Archie’s hand recoiled instinctively as the acid scorched his flesh. Glancing at his hand he saw the skin on two knuckles was charred and black – a glimpse of white bone showing on each joint. Grinding his teeth, he growled in agony and rolled away from the edge but, before he could jump to his feet, Evelyn Tension was upon him. Her thighs straddled him and squeezed his ribs tightly.

  Archie again saw her punch coming and snapped his head to one side, dodging her fist as it flashed past his ear and plunged into the liquid behind him.

  Expecting the acid to strip the flesh from her bones, he waited for the agonised scream that would signal his moment to counterattack. But Evelyn Tension didn’t withdraw a skeletal stump from the moat. She didn’t even scream. Instead she smiled serenely at Archie, swishing her hand in the acid as if enjoying the refreshing waters of a mountain stream on a summer’s day.

  ‘I do so love the feel of Boro-chloro-hydro-sulphur-nucleic acid, don’t you?’ she enquired, the sweetness in her voice contrasting with the aggressive way she was pushing Archie’s head towards the fluid. ‘It’s so good for one’s joints.’