by RR Haywood
‘Are you sure?’ the woman asks.
‘I’m sure.’
The woman covers the boy and rises stiffly to rest a hand on Emily’s shoulder. ‘Down the street, there’s more . . . I’ll pray for you.’
‘Danke.’ Emily moves off, her hand finding Konrad’s as they once more set off in their search.
‘I can’t do this,’ Konrad whispers. ‘I’m not one of you . . .’
She looks past Konrad to Arch 451 at the end of the street and the door opening with a hint of a green glow shining behind the five men coming out and pulls on Konrad’s hand to guide him over to the side of the street. ‘Face me,’ she whispers urgently.
‘I can’t do this, Emily . . .’ He turns to look at her, his face in abject misery.
‘It’s Emily, they’re coming out of a doorway underneath the arch. Five of them. Distance too great to confirm. Standby . . .’
‘Standing by.’ Ben’s soft voice in her ear.
‘Ben, there’s a green light behind the door – only saw a glimpse.’
‘Understood.’
Emily holds the photograph in her right hand that rests on her husband’s shoulder. It makes sure anyone passing will see the image of the child and complete the mental picture of two grieving adults. She leans in closer, pressing her cheek to Konrad’s as the tears fall.
‘Emily to Ben. Confirmed . . . It’s them.’ She whispers the words softly as though praying with Konrad. ‘Alpha and Bravo in the lead, Charlie behind them. Delta and Echo at the rear . . .’
‘Thanks, Emily,’ Ben replies, his voice as soft as hers. He stays at the window on the top floor of building twenty-five, his view fixed down the street as he waits for them to come into view.
Further down and on the other side of the street in building number eight, Alpha and Echo stand quietly in the front room on the top floor.
They deployed two hours early, to watch and study the street. To buy time for Alpha to be out of the complex and away from Mother and Bravo. To buy time with Echo. To buy time to think.
‘It’s not pretty,’ Alpha remarks quietly, taking in the destruction of the street below them.
‘They did it first,’ Echo replies. He shifts position, looking left and right up and down the street. ‘And the Holocaust.’
A light bulb moment. Ian Isaacs. Echo is Ian Isaacs. Alpha has access to all of their personnel files. Ian’s heritage is Jewish. Does it give leverage? If anything it makes him realise Echo is committed to his role. He has worked to give the Nazis a nuclear bomb.
‘Your family are Jewish, aren’t they?’ Alpha asks as though making conversation to pass the time.
‘Non-practising,’ Echo says. ‘We’re from Germany actually.’
‘Are you?’
Echo nods, maintaining his vigil at the window. ‘They got out in nineteen thirty-eight . . . Some did anyway. We lost people in the camps.’
‘Jesus,’ Alpha says, gently humanising himself and the conversation. ‘You could have said.’
‘Said what?’ Echo asks.
‘Your heritage. You’ve just helped us give the Nazis a nuclear bomb.’
‘It’s a mission,’ Echo says quickly. ‘I’m an agent, Alpha . . . My commitment is to the service.’
‘Take it easy. I wasn’t questioning your loyalty.’
Echo glances at him, his face as impassive as ever, but then he is highly trained to suppress any reaction. ‘I’m loyal.’
‘I know,’ Alpha says, looking back at him. ‘I know you are.’
‘But, yeah, it sucks,’ Echo says, turning to face the window again.
Tread carefully. Was Echo testing Alpha by saying that? Has Mother spoken to him and asked him to probe Alpha’s loyalty or is it simply a passing remark?
Echo inhales deeply and releases the air slowly, studying the people below as Alpha looks up at the top floor of building number twenty-five where he saw the flash of blue light before. Are they there now? Is Maggie Sanderson staring out of that window looking for them?
‘It’s going to be hard to steal a modern nuclear bomb,’ Echo says.
‘You think?’ Alpha asks drily.
‘Missiles are built into entire systems. We’d need that entire system to launch one of the biggest. We can take a smaller one to plant and detonate from a distance, but the yield won’t be as great . . .’
‘She’ll want the biggest,’ Alpha says.
‘Can’t be done,’ Echo says. ‘The biggest is ten thousand times more powerful than the one we dropped in London . . . but they’re launched from those systems. We’d have to take over a whole launch facility while holding whatever country’s head of state hostage to get the launch codes. We’re good, but there’s only five of us . . .’ He pauses to look at Alpha. ‘And if we did launch one, everyone else will detect that launch and start throwing theirs about . . . It’s an extinction level event, Alpha . . .’
It hangs in the air. An instinct in Alpha that they are two men who want to say the same thing but are holding back through fear of the repercussions of being wrong. He watches a man and woman threading a route through the street. Clambering and slipping over piles of bricks and broken buildings. They stop at every row of corpses, checking the smaller ones as they go. Something in the woman’s hand, maybe a picture of someone they lost.
‘We’re coming out,’ Echo says, looking down at the arch at the end of the street.
‘Got it,’ Alpha says, seeing the five coming from the doorway. He remembers seeing this street. He remembers all of it. His memory is highly trained to retain sights and information. He remembers the shape of the ruined buildings and looking up at the undamaged buildings and picking this one out to use as an observation point in the future. He remembers the rows of bodies. The old men and young women working to clear the area, the broken ambulances, the smoke coming from the fires, the tiny details that make this scene up.
He doesn’t remember that man and woman. They were not here. They are new.
He looks at Echo, trying to see what the other agent is looking at, but it’s impossible to tell. Alpha glances up to building twenty-five, then back down to the man and woman now moving over to the side of the road. They appear devastated and filthy. Their clothing is the same as everyone else’s, torn and stained with grime. Their faces are pale and drawn, smeared with black streaks. He can see the man is crying and the way the woman holds her hand on his shoulder giving comfort while clutching a picture that is angled out for anyone passing to see, and his heart thumps louder because the skin of her hand is tanned and stark against the skin on her face. She’s taken an effort to disguise her features but not her hand. She’s one of them.
‘Look at that,’ Echo says, making Alpha snap his head over. ‘At us. I mean, weird seeing us . . .’
‘Yeah,’ Alpha says, forcing a hint of humour in his voice. ‘Bravo said the same thing . . . along with a running commentary of everything he saw.’
Emily holds her husband in his grief. Whispering words of comfort while snatching glances past Konrad’s head to Alpha and Bravo walking up the street. Charlie behind them. Delta and Echo a short distance away. She nestles further into Konrad, hiding her own features while making sure the picture of the child can be seen. She wants to change hands and hold the picture in her left so her right can go into the pocket of her filthy overcoat to grip the butt of the pistol. Her senses ramp, her heart beats harder and the agents pass on by as she notices her suntanned hand holding the photograph that shines like a beacon in the desolation of this place. Instinct tells her to pull it back now, but a rapid movement will be detected so she forces herself to move slowly and pull the hand down to the gap between her body and Konrad’s. She glances down to Konrad’s hands, seeing them the same, suntanned and healthy. She drags at his wrist, pulling his arm up to smother it between them in the desperate actions of a grief-stricken wife clutching at her husband.
Don’t see them. Don’t see them. Alpha pleads silently from the top floor of building
number eight that neither the agents walking through nor Echo next to him at the window see the man and woman. He spots her bringing her suntanned hand down, then a few seconds later she paws at the man’s arm, dragging it between them. His hand is also tanned, but the movements look natural to the situation. The woman is trained in covert behaviours. His mind flashes back to the track and watching them give comfort to the dying Roman soldier. He matches the body shapes of the two women to the woman in the street. It’s not Safa Patel. Her skin is darker, her hair is black, she’s a bit shorter and slimmer. It must be Tango Two. Emily Rose.
‘I don’t remember those two,’ Echo says quietly.
‘Which two?’ Alpha asks.
‘Man and woman over there, see them? They look upset . . .’
‘They were here before,’ Alpha says, glancing away to track the five agents moving up the street.
‘Yeah?’ Echo asks, scratching the side of his head. ‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure. They had a picture of someone. I saw them and figured they were looking for a body.’
‘Christ,’ Echo says. ‘I’m so sorry, Alpha . . . I didn’t see them.’
‘Lot going on.’
‘Yeah, but that’s basic stuff.’
‘You know what,’ Alpha says. ‘I’ll go and take a closer look at them . . .’
‘I can do it. It’s my error if I didn’t see them.’
‘It’s fine. I’ll go and have a walk up and down the street. You keep watch on Herr Weber’s building in case anyone goes in after us.’
‘We can both go,’ Echo says, displaying a tone and manner that suggests he feels bad at not spotting something.
‘Stay here and watch that door. Radio me if anyone goes in.’
‘Roger that. Alpha, don’t forget the air-raid siren goes off before we come out . . .’
‘Konrad, look past me . . . Tell me when they go in,’ Emily whispers into his ear. ‘Slowly,’ she hisses when he jerks his head up too fast.
‘Crossing the road now,’ he says. ‘I don’t want to do this. I’m an engineer . . .’
‘Just watch,’ she says calmly. ‘It’s okay . . . We’re just watching . . .’
‘They’re going in now,’ Konrad whispers. ‘One . . . two . . . three . . . four and five . . . They’re all inside. Can we go now?’
‘It’s Emily. They’ve gone inside.’
‘Okay. Keep your eyes on that arch to see if they come from there again. They’ll be here somewhere watching for us.’
‘Understood. Emily out.’
‘This isn’t fair . . . I’m an engineer, not a spy . . .’
‘Shush, we’re fine. We need to go down a bit further, okay?’
‘No! It’s not okay. I don’t want to look at dead kids or dead anybody . . .’
‘I’ll do it. Just hold my hand and look upset.’
‘I am upset. I’m very upset.’
They set off with a visibly shaken Konrad trudging on slowly with his head down in abject misery while Emily scans everything and constantly flicks her gaze to the door in the arch, but worries there are too many points from which they could be observed.
She guides Konrad on towards the next row of bodies dragged, carried and pulled from the bombed buildings. Smoke wafts across the street and fires burn and crackle with orange flames still licking at the wooden frames. People move around them, lost in their own grief and shock. They go past a woman sitting with her back against a wall holding the body of a child clasped to her chest. Her eyes unblinking as she stares up at the heavens.
Alpha descends the stairs. Moving swiftly down the flights until he reaches the ground floor. A long, narrow hallway with a once tiled and polished floor now tracked in dirt. The walls, which were cream, now smudged and tinged with the same soot that seems to coat every surface.
Every turn of events can be manipulated to an advantage. Echo saw them, but Alpha can use that to get closer. Not that he has a plan yet. He has no plan. He has nothing except wits and instinct that propel him on and out into the street.
He walks slowly with his head down and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark-grey overcoat. These are the same clothes he wore during the visits to Herr Weber so it poses a risk of someone spotting the same man twice in a few minutes, but it’s a risk he has to take.
Within a few seconds, he gains sight of the man and woman ahead on the left side. They’ve moved off to continue searching for whoever they are looking for, but Alpha can see they are heading closer to the archway and keeping it in their line of sight. He goes slowly, carefully, blending into the background and adopting his own expression of anguish and grief to match those around him.
Another row of bodes laid out neatly, covered by scraps of material. There isn’t anyone here. No old man or woman willing to look at the picture. That means Emily has to examine the corpses herself to maintain their cover, but her sixth sense is going nuts. That feeling of being watched. She wants to look up and round to try and spot if anyone is staring from a window, but resists.
‘Oh god no . . . please no,’ Konrad says, seeing the covered mounds.
‘I’ll look. Just stay close.’
She moves away from him, stepping over the broken bricks and burnt chunks of furniture to reach the bodies. She lowers down, grips a sheet and gently lifts it to see the awful injuries of the child that make her tense and squeeze her eyes closed, but to anyone observing they will see an entirely human reaction.
She looks up as though summoning courage to keep going, blinking rapidly while quickly scanning the windows and doorways as the air-raid siren fills the air. Everyone bursts to action, abandoning whatever they are doing to run down the street for the safety of the shelter at the far end. The horror of yesterday drives them on, the knowledge of another coming air raid and within seconds people are streaming past, screaming out and barging into a terrified looking Konrad.
‘Emily . . . can you hear me? Get back now . . . air raid . . . can . . . me . . .’
She rises and runs to Konrad, grabbing his wrist to drag him on as she catches sight of a man in a grey overcoat also pushing against the flow of people. Something jars in her mind. Recognition of the coat, the build of the man and the way he walks. It’s Alpha. She looks for the other agents and realises it’s too quick for them to have come out. He’s on his own. This is Alpha now and not the memory of him. She heaves on with Konrad in her grasp, her head down as she pushes through the people running past.
‘GET TO COVER . . . GET TO COVER . . . WRONG WAY, YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY . . .’ A woman grabs at Emily, screaming in her face.
‘MY SON,’ Emily shouts back, showing the picture of the child. She jerks her arm free and keeps going, then spots that Alpha has turned to walk away from her and goes after him.
The noise is immense. A solid wall of sound made by people screaming in fear and the air-raid siren. Distant booms soon join the noise as the bombers start dropping their loads and the AA guns add their bass-filled sounds to the cacophony.
She tries to transmit to Ben, but she can’t hear her own voice let alone anything coming back. Still, she is an agent, trained to respond to live events in the field, and the chance of capturing Alpha now is too great to pass up.
She starts weaving across the street, over the rubble and round the people going past. Running now with Konrad behind her, not having a clue what is going on. She spots the grey overcoat go hard left towards a row of intact buildings and aims after him, grim-faced and leaning left and right to keep him in sight. A doorway ahead of him. She sees him go for it, speeding up over the last few metres to push inside.
‘GET TO BEN,’ she screams at Konrad and then runs on, faster now she is free of his hand. She grabs at the pistol in her coat pocket, flicking the safety off as she covers those last few metres to burst through the door, yanking the pistol to hold it up and aimed as she transitions from the bedlam of the street to the muted interior of the long, narrow hallway.
The pressure
comes fast. The feel of a barrel pushing against the back of her head followed swiftly by his hand clamping on her shoulder to prevent her launching back into him.
‘Don’t move . . .’ Alpha’s voice. The best agent in the British Secret Service. In a heartbeat she is outwitted and out-manoeuvred.
‘Fuck you,’ she says, and starts to turn to fight and show she isn’t afraid. Harry will come for her. Her team will use the device and Harry will tear Alpha apart again.
‘Stop,’ Alpha whispers. He moves in fast, wrapping an arm round to clamp over her mouth while bringing the pistol to jab under her chin. ‘I won’t kill you . . . Listen, Emily . . .’
She stiffens in readiness for the shot and waits for the Blue to show and for Harry to come. She waits for the roar of his bellow and the cessation of pressure on her mouth and in the heat of that second she realises he called her Emily and not Tango Two.
‘Echo is on the top floor. If you scream he will hear you and come down, then I’ll have to kill you and I do not want to kill you. Nod.’
She nods once. Breathing hard through her nose while gently pushing back to test his weight and centre of mass.
‘No.’ He pushes into her, sensing the test. ‘Why did you join them? I’ll take my hand away . . . Just tell me . . . why did you join them?’ He eases the hand away a fraction, ready to clamp it back while holding her tight.
‘Fuck you.’ She tries to shout out, but the hand comes back.
‘Please,’ he whispers into her ear. ‘Why did you join them?’
‘They’re good people,’ she whispers angrily when his hand lifts away. ‘Not murdering fucking bastards . . . Kill me and Harry won’t stop until you’re dead.’
He thinks hard and he thinks fast. His hand still holding away from her mouth. So many questions run through his mind, but he has only a few seconds. ‘You chose to go with them.’ He didn’t know he was going to say that, but the words come out. ‘They’re good, right? Tell me they’re good . . .’