by Joe Craig
Jimmy held his head in his hands. Where were these thoughts coming from? Was this his NJ7 programming throwing up a belief in Neo-democracy? But it didn’t feel like his programming. It felt like him.
“Listen,” said Saffron, gripping Jimmy’s arm and startling him out of his thoughts. “I think they’re…” She looked up, craning to see the sky. Jimmy suddenly noticed how much darker it had become. And at last the sound of the helicopters was gradually receding, swallowed by the drone of the traffic.
“Let’s go.” Saffron pushed herself to her feet and held out a hand for Jimmy. They both hurried back into the Bentley.
“LOCO,” said Jimmy, reading the card. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the fight ahead.
*
The fleet of black cars split up and swept through London to over a dozen different locations. Each of them was unmarked but for small, vertical green stripes by the front grilles and by the rear lights. They were an army of shadows, gliding into every street, hiding themselves in the night.
Only one had been dispatched from NJ7 HQ, and that one pulled up now on the lowest level of an underground car park on Great College Street in Westminster, Central London. An anonymous-looking white door opened in the darkest corner of the car park. Only a discreet green stripe by the hinge gave away where it led.
Miss Bennett and Eva were waiting for the agents – was it to welcome them, Eva wondered, or to interrogate them about what went wrong? Miss Bennett certainly wasn’t here to congratulate them – they had completely failed in their mission to eliminate Jimmy and the others. Eva was still getting used to the way her boss’s moods could shift. Sometimes even if she was happy she would pretend to be furious, or vice versa, just to make a certain point.
Eva watched the driver and two other men get out of the car. All were the standard template of NJ7 agents: tall, broad, with fiercely cropped hair, plain black suits and thin black ties. A couple of them wore small green stripes on their lapels. Eva guessed the others weren’t yet senior enough. Then, bringing up the rear, came a fourth person, and when she saw him Eva realised why Miss Bennett had made the effort to come and greet this team.
This was Miss Bennett’s second protégé, but unlike Eva, this one was a genuine devotee of NJ7. In fact, he was a remarkable one. Like the other agents, he was dressed in a plain black suit, but his tie was hanging loose with the knot swinging over his heart. His shirt was untucked. At first glance he looked like a messier and slightly shorter version of the others, but his face was much younger. And although he had the broad shoulders of a man, they were hunched over and his hands were shoved roughly into his pockets. His cheeks were fresh and smooth, but they bore a scowl. Eva knew this boy could look quite good when he smiled, but she rarely saw that.
“Good evening, Mitchell,” said Miss Bennett. Mitchell Glenthorne grunted an indistinct response while the other agents filed past. They all avoided catching Miss Bennett’s eye, Eva noticed, and for a second she thought she heard Miss Bennett softly tutting.
“Looks like you missed again,” said Miss Bennett to Mitchell, once the others had gone. Mitchell stopped dead and his face flushed red.
“It wasn’t me this time,” he said through gritted teeth. “I saw him. He was running about like a… like a…” His intense frustration was obvious. “Then I saw him squirming about in the back of one of the limos. He’s a little boy.”
Eva sunk back into the shadows. She felt so awkward – like she had stumbled into an argument between a mother and a son. It was so strange that they were arguing over matters of life and death.
“You should have sent me on my own,” Mitchell insisted, breathing heavily to control his emotions.
“We’ve tried that before, haven’t we?” Miss Bennett spun on her high heels and marched away up the corridor, back towards the hub of NJ7. Mitchell was visibly stung. Eva was shocked to feel a pang of sympathy for him. He lived to destroy Jimmy Coates, yet every time they’d been up against each other, Jimmy had escaped him by a whisker.
“But if you send in a whole squad…” Mitchell called out, hurrying after Miss Bennett. Eva followed them at a distance, “it’s… clumsy. We all go crashing in and Jimmy knows we’re coming.” Mitchell was running his hands over his head frantically, tearing at the tiny spikes of blond hair. “The only way to take him out will be to surprise him. A single assassin. From out of nowhere.” He slammed his palm against the wall to emphasise his point. “Me.” Eva felt the emotional force of it, even several metres back.
“Do you trust me?” Miss Bennett asked, gently.
Eva shuddered at the question, but knew Mitchell would be a fool not to answer straightaway. He did.
“Of course.” From Mitchell’s voice, Eva considered that he might actually mean it.
“Do you believe that I care for you?” Miss Bennett asked, again in that silky tone, as if she was coaxing a baby to sleep. Mitchell was slower this time, more suspicious. He dropped his gaze and nodded.
“If you care for me,” he mumbled, “you’ll let me do my job.”
Miss Bennett let out a deep sigh. It hissed round the NJ7 tunnels.
“You might be right,” she said. “We have to analyse what happened this afternoon and put right the mistakes for next time. Maybe that will mean sending you alone. Or maybe you’ll need a different kind of support.” As they walked through the labyrinth of grey concrete, she placed a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder. Her bright-green nail polish flashed in the fluorescent strip lights. “Remember,” she went on, “you’re not fully… developed yet. You will be soon. I don’t want you getting hurt before then. I have your best interests at heart.”
They stopped at an intersection of tunnels. More NJ7 staff hurried round them, grey people in a grey world.
“You do believe that, don’t you, Mitchell?” Miss Bennett turned him towards her and looked at him hard until he nodded. “Good. Now go and get debriefed. Eva,” she called behind her. Eva jumped to attention. “I’ll need thorough notes from the debrief. Go with Mitchell.”
Before Eva could respond, Miss Bennett strode away towards her office.
“I can almost feel the leash!” Mitchell snarled when he was alone with Eva. He tore his tie from his neck and threw it to the ground. “Why won’t she let me…?” He tailed off with a grunt of frustration. Eva stared at him, trying to understand. What was it like inside his head? One minute she’d find him clumsy and a bit of a lout, the next she might look in his eyes and see a cruel and efficient assassin.
“Why do you even want to…?” Eva began, but stopped herself. How could she challenge what he did when it was part of his blood? His DNA was designed to make him a killer. How could Eva possibly question it?
Mitchell leaned against the wall and bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stayed like that for a long time, his head down. Eva shifted from foot to foot. She didn’t know whether to comfort him or creep away. Or run for my life, she thought, then immediately hated herself for thinking it.
“I have nothing else,” Mitchell whispered at last. Eva struggled to catch the words. She’d never known Mitchell’s voice to be so soft and vulnerable. “I have nothing else,” he whispered again, looking up at her. He wasn’t crying, but every muscle in his face was clenched to prevent it.
“You have nothing but…” Eva spread her arms and looked round at the bare concrete walls. “Nothing but this?”
“I was born for this,” Mitchell said, breathing heavily. “Made for this. There’s nothing for me except NJ7. Nothing in me except—”
“I don’t believe that.” Eva was surprised at the force in her own voice. Why did she care how Mitchell’s life went? Why was she even standing there talking to him? “Your life is a lot more than NJ7. Or it could be, even if it isn’t now.”
“How do you know?” Mitchell snapped back. “Your life isn’t much different. When was the last time you even left this place? Why don’t your parents know—”
“They don’t
need to know,” Eva insisted. She forced back the lump rising in her throat. Her parents didn’t deserve to know anything. They’d betrayed Jimmy and tried to force her to be loyal to an evil government. “You don’t know anything about it.”
She stared into Mitchell’s eyes and refused to let herself flinch. In that moment she wanted to hit him as hard as she could, but at the same time she wished she could tell him everything. She longed to spill out her secrets, to explain every detail of the double life she’d been leading. Then he’d understand, she thought, trying to stop herself shaking. Maybe then he’d see that there was more to the world than Miss Bennett and NJ7 – and that Eva was prepared to risk everything for that cause. If he knew that, she thought, how would he look at her then?
Eva pressed her lips together. Don’t say a word, she ordered herself. Don’t even breathe. She squeezed her hands into fists, physically restraining herself from trying to win Mitchell round. He’d attack before he understood. More than ever, she was aware of the thick muscles in the boy’s neck and shoulders. The harsh light overhead cast deep shadows in his skin, making him look older than he was.
“Why are you looking at me?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably.
“Nothing,” Eva said, quickly. “I…” She tried to force out of her mind the thought of Mitchell’s blood and what it made him capable of – what it compelled him to do. Could the boy in front of her ever realise the good that he could achieve? “I need to show you something,” Eva added suddenly. “Follow me.”
She didn’t wait for a response, but hurried away through the murky tunnels. After a second she heard Mitchell’s steps behind her.
“Where are we going?” he asked. Eva didn’t reply. “I’ve been everywhere in this whole underground maze. There’s nothing you can show me I don’t know about.”
Eva just kept walking, taking quicker and longer strides. She was scared that if she slowed down, or distracted herself by replying to Mitchell’s questions, she’d lose the courage to lead him where she wanted him to go.
Eventually they were away from the busier areas of the network and into the tech department. Once again Eva noticed how much murkier it was here.
“Stupid energy-saving light bulbs,” Mitchell muttered, just half a pace behind her. “I reckon the science lot must all be vampires or something.” He choked up a nervous laugh.
Eva led him through the labs. To her relief, they were largely deserted, with only a couple of cleaners and a lone technician totally absorbed in his work. Eva shuddered at the thought that she might encounter William Lee again. Her heart eased in the next lab when she saw that Lee’s blue chair was empty. However, it was swivelling. Was the man still lurking somewhere? Perhaps this was where he liked to hide from Miss Bennett, thought Eva. Or perhaps he was working on something. Still fixing the satellite surveillance system? she wondered. No – surely he would have called in an entire tech team to help him by now.
Eva hurried past, and in the tunnel that led them away, they came at last to the slim gap in the concrete wall. Eva couldn’t help smiling. A small part of her had wondered whether she’d imagined the whole thing and that the gap would have disappeared. She paused on the threshold and took a deep breath.
“What’s in there?” Mitchell asked, confused. “I’ve never seen…”
“Mind the steps,” Eva whispered, without turning to look at him. Was she doing the right thing? Was this what Mitchell needed to see? It was too late to doubt herself now. She stepped into the darkness and led Mitchell down the narrow flight of stairs, towards the strip of bright light at the bottom. Mitchell had to squeeze his shoulders in to fit, but he was following keenly. Eva could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
At the bottom Eva paused again, listening. There were no voices from inside the lab this time. She peered out at the brightly lit chamber to double-check, then finally stepped out.
“What does…?” Mitchell wandered in, gazing around and blinking hard.
“I saw this the other day,” Eva explained, nervously. “When I realised what it was… I mean, who it was…”
“What do you mean?”
Eva marched right up to the metal table in the centre of the room. A black plastic sheet covered the human-shaped mound that lay on top of it, but the green laser was still firing, and still in place. When Eva got closer, she saw there was a tiny hole in the black sheet around the eye. The laser was still at work. Eva could hardly breathe at the horror of seeing it in detail, and the faint smell of bleach made her feel sick, but she couldn’t stop now. Mitchell had to see. He had to know what NJ7 was doing. He had to realise that there was something more he could do, another way he could live.
“Show me, then!” Mitchell huffed. “You’ve led me all round this stupid…”
Eva whipped the sheet away. She did it in one smooth, swift movement, so she wouldn’t have the chance to back out. Suddenly the temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees. Eva stepped back and looked away, wincing. Mitchell staggered forward. A noise escaped his mouth that Eva had never heard before – the whistle of breath from a parched throat, a silent scream. He seemed to buckle at the knees and had to plant his hands on the edge of the metal slab to support himself.
Eva backed away and watched Mitchell’s back arch forward over the ragged, but still breathing, body of his only brother, Lenny Glenthorne. And that’s how she left him.
The ornate red letters of LOCO hung from the awning over the pavement like four twisted devils trying to snatch the people below. There was already a crowd outside the venue so Jimmy and Saffron drove past without dropping their speed and pulled up round the corner. The Bentley would have drawn too much attention. He saw it for only a second, but the image of the scene froze in Jimmy’s mind. The first thing he remembered were the two huge bouncers. A man and a woman. Both armed. Why weren’t they hurrying everybody inside? And why hadn’t the police come to disperse the crowd – or arrest everybody?
“I thought crowds like that were illegal without a licence,” Jimmy muttered, almost to himself.
“They are,” Saffron replied. “Looks like the Capita pays off the local police.”
Jimmy nodded, already shifting his focus to the other features of LOCO. He found himself mentally deconstructing the building: a huge place, detached from the houses around it. A converted cinema, Jimmy quickly realised from the crumbling art deco façade and the fact that it was all brick, no windows. His brain filtered the information, rubbing every detail together, testing connections to see what became significant. The size of the crowd outside, for example. Jimmy found he was comfortable assuming that the place was similarly packed inside. And from the size of the building, that meant a lot of people.
A lot of places to conceal a hostage, he thought, picturing Viggo strapped down somewhere, possibly unconscious.
“We’ll need to get the vehicle close,” he said, scared for a moment at the unfamiliarity of his own voice. It sounded flat, almost mechanical. “The subject might be immobile.” These words were coming from somewhere else, a deep inner sense that operated more clinically, more automatically. A place where people were ‘subjects’ or ‘targets’ and life was just a mission to be executed. No doubts. No hesitation. No feelings.
“Can we be sure he’s definitely in there?” Saffron asked. It had crossed Jimmy’s mind too. What if the Capita were really keeping Viggo somewhere else? What if he’s dead? Jimmy thought suddenly. He shook off the question, not wanting to acknowledge that his programming was right to ask it. Without evidence that Viggo was still alive, and that he was at LOCO, was it too risky to go in trying to find him? No, Jimmy told himself, struggling to keep control of his thoughts, like they were wild dogs. The risk is not going in. If Viggo is there and we leave him, he will be dead.
“We have to assume he’s in there,” Jimmy announced. “And the Capita has to assume we have the H Code.”
“The H Code,” Saffron repeated, blankly. She stared into the middle distance, t
error gradually creeping across her face. “What are we going to do?”
Jimmy leaned over and ran his fingers up either side of the centre panel of the dashboard.
“We don’t need the H Code,” Jimmy said, his voice growing stronger every second as the dark energy of an assassin flooded his body, blotting out the human vulnerability. “We just need a few extra seconds.” There was a click, and the dashboard panel came away. Jimmy carefully lifted it out of position and reached into the secret compartment behind.
The Bentley was full of hiding places like this. It had first belonged to the French Ambassador, and he’d used it to smuggle documents, among other things, from Britain to France. Then NJ7 had seized the car and been in the process of searching it when Viggo had used it as his escape from Secret Service life. Ever since then it had been disguised many times, reconstructed, repainted and considerably battered by Viggo and Saffron’s muscular driving. With every fix-it job on the bodywork, Viggo had discovered more and more hidden compartments. This one was the most obvious. Jimmy and Saffron had been using it to store the laptop.
“This will give us time,” he said.
“It won’t work, Jimmy. They won’t let us out with Chris in return for a laptop. We’ll have to prove that the H Code is on that computer.”
Jimmy shrugged. “That’s just something we’ll have to deal with.” He searched his mind for a strategy, but all he found was darkness, like a swarm of wasps cutting out the light. It was time to act. Jimmy took a deep breath and steadied his shoulders.
“We have to plan this,” Saffron said urgently. “And we should wait for the others. Helen will be able to help, at least.”
Jimmy glanced at the clock behind the steering wheel. He didn’t need to say anything. The rendezvous was scheduled for eight minutes’ time. The Capita wouldn’t wait.
“OK, Rambo,” said Saffron, showing her anger now. “You’re just going to blast through the front doors? Through the crowd? The bouncers?”