Rebound

by PJ Adams

  He looked away, then back at her again. “Has he hurt you?”

  She didn’t know how to answer that question. She knew the ‘he’ referred to Bernard Bowler, and no, he hadn’t physically hurt her. But had he challenged the very core of who she was? Had he highlighted her vulnerability, made her terrified of every sound in this godforsaken building, made her scared to fall asleep for fear of what she might wake to? That hurt her more than any physical blows, and it would be with her far longer than any bruises.

  “No,” she said. “No, he hasn’t done anything.”

  There was an immediate sag in Alex’s shoulders.

  “How did you find me?”

  “It’s what I do.”

  That was the first time either of them had said anything out loud that acknowledged that they both knew who he was. What he was.

  “I was here earlier today,” Alex said. “Bowler said you’d left already, but what he said didn’t ring true.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He... claimed to know you well but clearly didn’t. It was obvious he was lying to us.”

  “‘Us’?”

  “Me and my partner. Laura. Your link person. My ex.”

  She hadn’t made the connection. Laura wasn’t such an uncommon name, and she’d had no idea Alex’s ex had been an agent, too...

  She felt so stupid. Blind. So that was the Laura who had treated Alex so badly... Not just the cheating, but the casual, off-hand way she’d run circles around him before that – not that Alex would ever see it that way, but everything he’d told her about his ex had portrayed a selfish woman, used to helping herself to whatever she wanted from life.

  Laura had always struck Sunita as a control freak: intrusive and patronizing, and perhaps even one of the reasons Sunita had felt so oppressed by the way she and her work were being managed by the Company. It all fit now.

  She glanced at the door, wondering where Laura was now.

  “You’re working together?”

  A shrug, looking awkwardly away. “Kind of.”

  She told herself there was no good reason for that stab of jealousy, and that he wasn’t being evasive in his response.

  “I shook her off tonight,” said Alex. “After we saw Bowler, Halliday called us back in to regroup. They’re moving the focus of the investigation to north London, where Bowler said you’d gone. I ducked out for the night, and came back here on my own. I had to know you were okay.”

  “Why?” Then, in response to his confused look, she said, “Not why did you have to know I was okay. Why shake Laura off? She’s your partner... Aren’t you duty bound...?”

  “There was something she asked me,” he said. “Something that stopped me in my tracks. She wanted to know where my loyalties lay if it came to a choice between... between you and my duties.”

  Sunita swallowed. “What did you tell her?” she asked.

  “I didn’t answer. But... well, that’s the first time I’ve ever had to pause and even think about that.”

  And he’d come here to find her, which was more than answer enough.

  21. Alex

  He didn’t know.

  Didn’t know why he’d done that, why he’d thrown Laura off his back and slipped away, back to the BoTech research center.

  Didn’t know why he’d suddenly gone rogue like this, after a career when loyalty could have been engraved on his heart.

  Loyalties. His had clearly shifted, and perhaps Laura, in that annoyingly insightful and one step ahead way of hers, had seen it before anyone else.

  He’d had to know Sunita was okay, that whatever she was doing, for whatever reasons, was her own choice.

  He’d risked everything for that.

  He’d had to shake off Laura. At one time he could have staked his life on the trust between them, but no more. Laura had been using him to get to Sunita, and he knew the longer this went on the less likely it was that any outcome would go in Sunita’s favor. Even if she was entirely innocent in the events of the last two days, the authorities would never see her in the same way again.

  She had crossed the line from asset to risk, forever tainted with doubts about where her loyalties lay.

  And he knew how little the Company liked any kind of uncertainty.

  He’d had good reason to throw Laura off the trail. That thing she had with Halliday, the trust between them, the command loop Mitchell had been left out of... He could only speculate about when the operation to recover Sunita would become one to tidy away the loose ends, but he knew one thing for sure: he would be the last to find out.

  Outside Halliday’s office, he’d told Laura he’d go back and get his own car and they could drive down to join up with the London team separately. It’d make sense to have two cars, he’d argued. They didn’t have to do everything together.

  “It’s that difficult is it?” she said, fixing him with those green eyes that were too small, and set too close together, although he might only have just decided that. “Spending time with me in a car?”

  He’d shrugged, turned away. Let her think that if she wanted. It was true, after all, just not his real reason for wanting to travel separately now.

  “You’ll get over me, Mitch,” she called after him. “Eventually. They always do.”

  §

  There’s always a way in. Particularly when, as with Bowler’s BoTech research center, a place hasn’t been built with absolute security in mind.

  That ten-foot high chain link fence was more for show than anything else. The boundary was too long for the fence to be intact for the entire perimeter, and once you reached the beach it would be easy to get round when the tide was even partway out. A boat could have landed anywhere along those miles of private beach and salt marsh.

  There was nothing in Mitchell’s initial assessment of the site that fazed him.

  He parked the car he’d borrowed from Terry Regan behind a hedge on a farm turning, just along the public road. Regan had driven Mitchell’s car down to north London, with Mitchell’s phone on the seat beside him. Mitchell knew his phone was traceable, and there was undoubtedly something in his car, too – let Halliday’s tracking devices think Mitchell was still playing the game.

  After parking up, he followed a farm track as far as it went, and then cut across a rough field to the beach where he walked north until he came to the security fence. The act of cutting the fence was unlikely to set off any alarms – there was no indication it was wired in that way. He might be picked up on CCTV, perhaps motion sensors; there might be guard dogs, too, although he’d made the assessment that they wouldn’t turn dogs loose within the compound because of the staff on site.

  In short, he’d broken into far tougher places than this, but still he was careful. He needed time to locate Sunita.

  §

  She felt tiny beneath him. Tiny and strong as she bucked her body, trying to shake him free before she realized it was him and she was safe.

  He hadn’t expected his own response to be so intense, the vivid flashback to one night a month before when he’d last felt her beneath him.

  He backed away across the darkened room, gathering himself, trying to find the focus he needed. Saw too late that she was reaching for the light switch.

  When he saw the look in her eyes he knew he’d been right in his assessment, but still he had to ask, to make sure she was not here voluntarily.

  She looked so vulnerable, sitting there in an over-sized t-shirt, her knees drawn up to her chest, the bedding rucked up around her. He clamped down on his own mad rush of thoughts. He had to stay focused, had to keep this succinct. Stick to the essentials. He didn’t have room in his head right now for complications like feelings and thinking beyond the immediate need to get the hell out.

  “We have to get out of here,” he said. “I have to get you safe.”

  “How? How do we get out, Alex?”

  §

  There’s always a way out, too. And sometimes it’s the most direct route of all
.

  He’d considered slipping away quietly, finding the opening he’d cut into the fence, leading Sunita along the beach, across the field, and along that farm track until they found the road again. But no. Mitchell had come in that way, and the ground was rough, the heavy clay of the field deeply rutted from where the farmer had recently plowed. It would take much longer and if Sunita turned an ankle they’d be stuck.

  Sunita pulled on jeans, her little boots, her leather jacket over the over-sized t-shirt. Mitchell took her hand in his and led her out of the suite.

  She knew the way, nodding towards glass doors that led to the stairs.

  Had they been picked up already by CCTV?

  At every breath he expected to hear voices, doors slamming, running feet. But there was nothing. The place seemed deserted.

  Across a courtyard, they came to another set of doors to the rear of the farmhouse, but instead Sunita indicated the paved path that led round the side of the building.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly to Sunita. “Nearly there. I have a car waiting on the road.”

  She squeezed his hand.

  The side of the building was in darkness, and then they emerged onto the graveled area to the front, lit with lamps set onto the farmhouse’s front wall, and others set into the ground on the far side.

  Mitchell blinked, and then a dark figure stepped out from a doorway.

  A man, a good few inches taller than Mitchell, and broader across the shoulders, his hair tied back, and a thick beard covering most of his face.

  And a Glock 17 casually hanging from a hand that clearly knew how to handle it.

  Mitchell stopped half in front of Sunita, partly shielding her. “She’s with me,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately low and soft so the guy would have to concentrate to hear. “And we’re leaving.”

  It was one of those ineffable moments. One that could go in any of a number of directions.

  If it came to action, the guard had his gun in his hand and Mitchell’s was still in the holster at his waist, but Mitchell was fast, which evened things up to an extent.

  If the guy wasn’t alone, that would shift the balance dramatically, but there was no sign of anyone else yet.

  It was a finely balanced judgment, but one Mitchell hoped the guy was smart enough to make. Nobody wanted any trouble. Nobody wanted to have a mess to clear up. And if one of Bowler’s men shot either Sunita or a member of the security services they could have absolute certainty that all hell would be brought down upon them.

  The guy nodded, raised his free hand, palm outward. Didn’t want any of this.

  “Come on,” Mitchell said, gently tugging Sunita’s hand, only now realizing that this was almost certainly the first time she’d been faced by an armed man trying to stop her. She would be in shock. She might be physically unable to move. She might–

  She squeezed his hand in return, and started to walk.

  He should have known she would have the strength to deal with this.

  They walked, and Mitchell was intensely aware of the security guard’s eyes on them. If he’d got it wrong, at any moment the guy might jump him from behind, or simply shoot him between the shoulder blades.

  He ballsed it out.

  He hadn’t got it wrong.

  They kept walking.

  When they came to the gate, someone had already buzzed them through, the lock hanging open.

  “You okay to walk?” he said. “I’m parked on the road.”

  “I’m good.”

  Still holding hands, they set off along the access road.

  “He wanted me to work for him,” she said, after a minute. “He promised me whatever I wanted. Said he’d do whatever it took to get my work out to the world.”

  “Did you want that? Did you believe him?”

  She looked down. Was she having regrets? Already?

  “He said the right things. He knew what I wanted to hear. But the only way for someone like him to profit from my work is to restrict access, limit supply, keep the price high. A world that lives in fear is where his money comes from. I want to make the world better. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  Mitchell studied her dark profile again as they walked. They’d each come at it from different angles, with very different methods, but that’s all he’d ever wanted, too. Make the world a better, and safer, place. He wished he could offer her something, other than escape.

  “He’d framed me,” Sunita went on. “He’s been putting money into a mystery account somewhere in my name, made it look like I’d already sold out. We can put this right, can’t we? You can tell Halliday I was set up.”

  “We can try.” Did that count as a lie? It wasn’t untrue, as such, but he knew it was futile, and the real lie was in him not saying this and allowing her to cling to hope.

  Silence for a time. He didn’t know what to say.

  “Bowler said there was no way back,” Sunita said. “He said they’d never trust me again, now that some doubt had been cast. Now that he’s made them doubt me...”

  He wondered how far she’d taken that thinking, if she knew the implications of that doubt – if she understood what happened to people the Company had doubts about...

  “We just need to get somewhere safe,” he told her. “Then we can look at the options.”

  §

  All the way along that track, he expected to hear the sound of engines, pursuit, but there was nothing.

  Bowler must know he was powerless to stop them leaving. Even he wouldn’t cross the line into acts of violence, outright kidnapping, or worse.

  They reached the twisting public road, turned left and walked a short way farther, dark hedges looming to either side. Still nothing.

  They came to Regan’s car. No sign of interference.

  Mitchell held the door for Sunita, closing it softly when she was in. Round to the driver’s side, he slipped in behind the wheel, was about to thumb the ignition button when he sensed her moving, leaning toward him. Her hand went to his cheek, so soft and delicate.

  “Alex.”

  “We have to get away. Get you safe.”

  “Alex, I don’t know what this is. What it’s become, or what it might turn into. But I know this thing between us has changed, and not just because of what you’ve done tonight. I knew it before that.”

  This thing between us...

  He wouldn’t look, wouldn’t turn his face to her under the soft pressure of that hand.

  He couldn’t do feelings right now.

  “Alex, I think I’ve fallen in love with you. Or I’m falling. Or something.”

  He nodded. Wanted to leave it at that. Deal with this stuff later, that voice of Laura’s in the back of his mind reminding him, You really care for her, don’t you?

  But instead, he turned and met her look, the whites of her eyes glinting in the dim light of the interior.

  He reached across, took hold of the collar of her jacket, and dragged her into a kiss.

  Just then – that one brief moment – nothing could have been more perfect. The connection between them, the things she’d said, the things he wanted to say in return... the need to balance that equation, meet her I think I’ve fallen in love with you with his own mangled version of the same words. He cared for her. He loved her. He’d made that step and needed to say it out loud.

  The kiss – long, tender, passionate, her hands cradling his face, his fist bunching her clothes, holding her hard against him as if he might lose her at any instant.

  Because, intense as his response was, he knew that at least part of it was because this might be the only moment like this they would ever have. The knowledge that she was at risk – from Bowler’s goons, but also from the Company.

  He knew how this worked.

  Knew that Sunita now fell into that category of people whose existence might be seen as more risk than benefit, and that he did, too, for if Halliday wasn’t already aware of his betrayal then he would be soon.

  This wasn
’t a recoverable position.

  The moment passed, the tightness of their grips eased. Their mouths separated, but still their faces were only a fraction apart, their foreheads still pressing together, her breath hot on his mouth. His lips felt bruised, and all of a sudden he hoped he hadn’t hurt her.

  “I love you,” he whispered, and knew then that with those words he risked hurting her far more brutally than anything physical.

  §

  Sometimes the direct way isn’t best after all. You stare down the barrel, you make the calculations and call the bluff, but you’ve got it wrong.

  They’d just walked out. They’d confronted Bowler’s security and dared them to try to stop them. And then they’d kept on walking.

  They’d walked the length of that straight single lane access road without any sign of pursuit.

  They’d come to the car, Regan’s red VW that Mitchell had switched with his one reliable friend, an ex- special forces guy who understood those times when you didn’t ask questions, when you just did what you could for a comrade at arms.

  Sunita and Mitchell had kissed, they’d said those words that could never be taken back, raising their own stakes.

  Finally, they’d let go, sat back, sucked deep breaths, tried to stop madly spinning thoughts.

  “Let’s go,” Mitchell said, finally thumbing the ignition, shifting into reverse to pull back out onto the road.

  Sunita reached across, pressed her hand to his thigh, squeezed.

  Mitchell declutched, shifted into first, eased forward, shifted to second and then a massive impact to the rear of Terry Regan’s car spun them one-eighty with a loud explosion of sound that left Mitchell’s ears ringing, and his body slamming against the seatbelt and the door.

  He didn’t lose consciousness at all. He kept his senses, kept his wits about him, turned to Sunita and saw her mouth open, perhaps screaming although his ears were ringing so loudly he heard no sound coming from her, but at least she was okay if she could react like that, her hands raised to her face, just as they’d been raised to his only moments before.