by Ben Onslow
I figure, if I move fast, I should be able to warn the others before Vector gets me.
I need to use Dad’s computer.
The one good thing about what I’ve read is, none of it came from Dad’s computer. So the shields work and should hold long enough to send out a CatchingFire to everyone.
I activate the HazeApp.
Go out of the room.
Fly down the stairs.
Make my way back to our living quarters.
Jacob needs to get Ela out now.
Curley and Nick need to get away.
I need to warn Mum she’s in danger.
Someone needs to get rid of these papers.
Someone needs to neutralise Vincent and the sidekick.
All those thoughts are running through my mind as I fly up the stairs.
34.
CatchingFire
Wednesday 22nd Feb 2051
10:30 p.m.
I motor down the passage. Go into the office.
I hear Mum come through the front door and along the passageway, she must have just finished work.
“What’s happening?” she asks.
I unhaze and sit at the computer. “You need to get out of the pub now.” I’m frantically sending out CatchingFires to everyone I can think of before that Intercept starts clawing at the computer.
I get out one to Jacob, one to Ela, one to Nick then Curley.
I get them done just in time. Only milliseconds before the shields come up. The computer crashes and I’m staring at a blank screen.
I hear the front door bang open.
Not sure who it is. “You’re not safe, get out now,” I say to Mum again. “You’re on Vincent’s hit list too.”
I hear a voice from the kitchen.
“Patsy? Jack?”
It’s Fitzgerald.
He got here fast.
Mum disappears into her room.
I go and meet Fitzgerald.
“What’s happened?” he asks.
By the time I’ve explained about papers in Vincent’s room and the Intercepts, Mum’s standing beside us, out of her work clothes, dressed in jeans, boots, black long sleeve t-shirt.
“What’s the plan?” says Mum. And Fitzgerald doesn’t even question that Mum will be helping solve the Vincent problem.
Me and Mum start clearing out Vincent’s room.
Fitzgerald takes off to get some help.
“I’ll take this load of papers to my car.” Mum’s just kept working methodically to get rid of everything. At first she’d stop to read a paper here and there but now she’s all business.
“Can you get another box?” I say. “I’ll carry on packing the stuff up.”
“Okay. Back in a minute,” says Mum as she goes out the door.
I keep packing; the last box is just about full, there’s still a couple of piles to go. Then I hear a noise behind me.
I turn and see the sidekick coming into the room carrying a briefcase.
Shit.
I drop the folder I’m holding. Pick up my Com, I figure if I can’t be seen, I’ve got a chance of getting out of here.
Preferably without getting shot.
“What the hell?” The sidekick drops the briefcase.
Launches at me.
He always looked like he spent a fair bit of time in the gym, but coming towards me, all power and threat, he looks the size of a gorilla.
I hit the HazeApp.
Move fast to the other side of the room.
The sidekick pulls a gun with a silencer.
I see him watching the carpet, like he knows why I’ve disappeared and is trying to track my footprints.
He smiles. Moves towards where I’m hovering.
I have to get out of here.
I move to the side then forward.
He’s concentrating on footprints on the carpet.
I gather up every ounce of strength I have.
Launch at him.
And hit him hard in the throat.
I can’t see the impact, but I feel it through my arm.
The sidekick’s head flies back. His body goes rigid. Then folds. He falls on the floor.
Lies really still.
There’s something about the way he is resting. I know he’s dead. It was a lucky hit.
If I had any plan when I hit him, it was just to distract him while I got out of here.
But I’ve killed him.
The gun’s fallen about a metre from the body.
I pick it up.
My mind thinks about all the problems that killing a Vector hit man at the pub is going to cause. Fitzgerald was planning on ambushing the sidekick and Vincent somewhere near the Outpost.
I think about who this will effect, what needs to be done.
He probably has his Com on him.
It’ll have a Locate that will put him right here in the pub. That’s going to mean trouble for Mum.
There’s the Tablet that was on the table. It will have a Locate too.
There’s all the papers. Some still here. Some in Mum’s car. They tell the whole story. They mean trouble for everyone.
Then there’s the briefcase the sidekick was carrying. It could have a Locate too, or more incriminating evidence.
Then I realise the ESD Vincent drives will have one as well. And the thing has to be parked right outside the pub. Probably with Vincent in it. I haven’t ever seen either of them without the other.
The problems are getting bigger and bigger.
A body, Coms, an ESD, the Tablet, all the stuff in the room and Mum’s car. It all needs to be erased.
I think about Curley. Could he change the Locate records?
I think about Scott or Nick. They could help get rid of the body.
And then I give in again.
I get my Com out. Make the Connect to Fitzgerald. Decide to ignore the Intercept. There’s so much to clean up now, what’s one Connect?
But the Intercept’s gone.
“Fitzgerald,” I hear.
“I’ve still got that book you wanted,” I say.
There’s a real long pause.
“Where are you now?”
“Where you left me.”
“I’m coming,” says Fitzgerald.
And I’m standing there, holding my Com and the sidekick’s gun, trying to figure out what to do next and Vincent comes through the door. He is pushing Mum in front of him, got his forearm around her neck and she’s clawing at it like she can only just breathe.
He looks at the body on the floor, then at the gun floating through the air.
I lift it. Aim it at him.
He tightens his hold on Mum and brings his gun up and pushes it into her cheek.
“Drop it, Jack, then switch the haze off,” he says quietly. “Or I’ll start shooting bits off your mother.”
Mum tries to throw herself to the side. “Don’t listen Jack, just shoot him,” she orders.
Vincent tightens his grip, presses the gun harder into her cheek. “Put the weapon down.”
I lift it to take a shot, but even though Vincent’s huge and Mum’s pretty slim, he’s got her positioned so she’s covering all his vital organs. If I shoot, I either kill my mother, or I get Vincent in a bicep or a foot, just make him mad.
I don’t like either scenario.
Need to wait until the odds are better.
I go to put the gun down on the carpet.
“Slowly.” Vincent tightens his grip on Mum, like a warning. “Then, kick it away.” When the gun is on the floor, I kick it and it slides until it comes to a stop by the table leg. “Now turn off the haze,” he instructs.
I slowly slide my thumb across the Com, the shimmer disappears and I appear, standing there in the middle of the room, boxes and papers around me. There’s still a pile of papers on the table.
“Now the Com can join the gun.”
I put the Com on the floor and give it a kick.
“Good boy.” Then Vincent looks at the sidekick�
��s body taking up most of the rest of the floor. “Disappointing.” He keeps his hold on Mum and with the hand with the gun in, reaches out for a dining chair, and turns it round.
“Have a seat, Mrs Fraser.” He pushes Mum at it.
She pushes back. He grabs her hand, twists her arm and makes her sit. She spits at him, glances at the gun on the floor, not too far from her. Vincent just laughs, wipes his face, bends down and picks it up.
“Not quite as friendly as you were a few days ago, Mrs Fraser.” He runs the gun over Mum’s shoulder and down her arm like he is caressing her.
I’ll kill him.
“Not inviting me for a drink tonight, or trying to pump me for information?” he asks. And that was my idea, I got her into this. “Instead I find you loading my things into your car.” Now the tip of the pistol caresses her face, Mum pulls away from it. “What were you planning on doing with the information I spent so much time collecting, lovely Patsy.” The voice is silky, the barrel still caressing.
Then he puts the gun down on the table, well away from Mum, she’s eyeing it. He removes the silencer from the barrel of the sidekick’s gun, works the safety, and puts everything in his pocket, picks up his own pistol again. All the time making sure he is too close to Mum for me to risk charging at him.
“Now, what am I going to do with you two?” he asks, still silky.
The question sounds rhetorical, like it doesn’t really need an answer, so I stay quiet.
“Not talking?” He considers Mum, then looks back at me. “You will in a moment. I have a few questions for you to answer, Jack, just few things I need to tidy up.”
He considers Mum again, uses the end of his pistol to make her lift her chin and look at him. Then he looks back to me again, still keeping Mum’s head forced back.
“Leave her alone,” I say. “She doesn’t know anything.”
“So, there are things to know,” says Vincent, in that silky, cat playing with a mouse way. “You have a pretty mother, Jack, I will leave her face as it is for a while if you play ball.” He turns back to Mum. “Mrs Fraser, please put your hand on the table.”
“Fuck you.’ Mum, clasps both hands tight together and pushes them down between her legs.
I watch Vincent as he puts his pistol on the table again, still well away from Mum’s reach, takes the sidekicks gun out of his pocket, refits the silencer, runs the silencer in a line from Mum’s forehead, down her face to her chin, then down between her breasts, over her stomach, until he gets to where she has her hands clutched together between her thighs. It’s sickening, but Vincent is a bit too competent and ruthless to risk rushing him. Mum will get hurt. There’s nothing I can do yet
“Put your hand on the table, Mrs Fraser,” Vincent says again, less silk, more iron this time. “Or I will put a shot in it now.” And he pushes harder against her hands and starts putting pressure on the trigger.
I know a fair bit of what he knows already, I’ll just tell him that. I’ve got to do something.
“Don’t hurt her, I’ll talk,” I say urgently. I need to buy time to figure out what to do.
“Don’t say anything, Jack,” says Mum like she means it.
“Move your hand to the table, Mrs Fraser.”
Mum just looks up at Vincent, ignores the pistol between her legs.
“Do what he says, Mum,” I say urgently.
“Good advice,” says Vincent.
“Jack, don’t say anything,” says Mum.
Vincent looks over at me. “This is not the time to listen to your mother if you want to keep her healthy.” He lifts the gun. Grabs one of Mum’s hands, places it on the table beside her, palm down, then pushes the silencer into the back. Looks at me.
Fuck. How far away is Fitzgerald?
“What do you want to know?” I ask.
Vincent rubs his nose with his free hand, like he needs to figure out where to start.
“Jack, don’t tell him anything,” Mum orders fiercely.
The barrel presses deeper into her hand. “Was it you doing the searches on me?” Vincent asks.
He probably knows that already, so I nod.
“Thought so,” he says. Nonchalantly keeps the gun pressed deep into Mum’s hand. “I got an Alert a few days ago, checked my status and someone had done a search, tried to track where it originated.” He leans against the table as he talks, real close to Mum, his leg between hers now, gun still pressed into her hand. “Saw shields go up so I couldn’t take the track right to the source. But before the shields went up I saw the search was local. I was starting to get a reaction. Just needed to find out where and who.”
Shit, I wipe my mouth with my hand, should have listened to Fitzgerald and Jacob.
“Next question, was it you at the Egans’ place?”
He knows that too.
I nod again.
“Who was with you?”
I hesitate, I remember reading he knew Nick was there, but did he know about Ela? Does it matter? He’s already after her anyway. I can’t decide. One of them? Both of them?
“Too slow,” he says.
And he pulls the bloody trigger. Shoots Mum through the hand. She screams and snatches her hand back, all I can think is, there’s not much blood, and why wouldn’t there be blood? Cauterised by the flash maybe. She’s cradling her hand in her lap again, holding it with the other hand, and then the blood starts oozing through the fingers of her good hand.
Fuck.
Vincent grabs the unhurt hand, now covered in blood. Slaps it down on the table and pushes the end of the gun into it.
“It was Nick!” I yell. “Nick was there.”
“Good boy,” he says. “Now what do you know about the Vault?”
Mum watches me, pain on her face now, her injured hand leaking blood all over her jeans. “Don’t say anything,” she whispers. “Please Jack.”
“Don’t listen to your mother,” says Vincent, squeezing slowly on the trigger. “I know it exists. I’ve been through the accounts, plans and records of building the Outpost, then matched orders to deliveries to invoices to be sure. The quantities supplied didn’t match the quantity surveyor’s estimates. Truckloads of building materials went missing while they were building the Outpost. Do you know where it is?”
The gun digs into Mums hand. He already has the coordinates marked on the map. He already sent the Willises to find it. If I tell him, it doesn’t matter, he already knows.
He’s torturing us for fun.
I watch the gun push deeper.
“I can give you the coordinates,” I say in a rush. “Will need a map though.”
Vincent nods.
“And where is that little girlfriend of yours?”
Now the choice is Mum or Ela.
Which? Which? Which? Mum or Ela.
And Fitzgerald appears in the doorway.
Thank God.
Vincent looks over at him, stands, lifts the gun off Mum’s hand to take Fitzgerald out. Mum leaps up, crashes her shoulder into Vincent. Grabs his gun hand, must have had surprise on her side, massive weight difference, he staggers, the table topples, papers and gun slide off the top, hit the floor, the shot Vincent gets off goes wild.
I dive for the gun on the floor. Fitzgerald goes for Vincent.
Vincent gets free of Mum, sidesteps Fitzgerald
Takes a few steps my way.
I roll, both hands holding his weapon.
Aim. Shoot him.
Straight through the heart.
He drops to the floor by the sidekick.
Two dead bodies to deal with now.
35.
FireCrew
Thursday 23rd Feb 2051
1:30 a.m.
To give Fitzgerald his due, he doesn’t waste time on extraneous questions. He gets straight to the point. “We need to get this cleaned up. If this gets out, we’ve all had it.”
He gets on his Com. “I need the FireCrew at the pub right now, forget what we’ve just planned, everything’s change
d.”
He listens for a moment. “Keep it low key.” Listens again. “Yeah, four at least. And pick up Curley and Nick. We’re going to need them.”
Fitzgerald makes more Connects. It sounds like he’s calling in a whole army, changing what he already had in place.
Mum’s holding onto the table, trying to stay upright, blood from her hand leaking all over her jeans and the floor.
Fitzgerald disconnects. “Curley will reset the Locates later. Where are their Coms?”
“Still on them.”
“Okay,” he says. “When Curley gets here, he can adjust them. No one can know Vincent has been here.” Fitzgerald pulls out his Com again, checks how far away the FireCrew is. He looks at Mum.
She is swaying, ready to crumple, he goes to her, and catches her as she falls.
And, bloody hell, he picks her up and holds her like something precious has been broken. Her good hand curls up round his neck, her hurt hand bleeding all over his shirt and her tshirt. He kisses her on her forehead. She leans her head against his shoulder and he curls his body around her, like he’s protecting her the way Joe did with Lucinda.
It’s all done without talking, like they know what the other will do, done it before.
How come I didn’t see that coming?
“Johnson will be here soon,” Fitzgerald murmurs to Mum. “I’ll get you to your room. He can treat that hand first.” He looks over at me, I’ve made it up off the floor, but nearly fell back down when I saw that kiss. “Jack, get the rest of the stuff out to Patsy’s car. The others will be here anytime now. We’ve got a few hours to clean up this mess.” It’s like he’s thinking out loud. Real fast. “If we can cover this up, we should be able to use Vincent and his sidekick’s documents to get Joe and Lucinda out of the country. Curley can change the details and the retina scans to get them through customs. Then change them back to show Vincent and the other guy are in Aussie.”
It’s a bit of a puzzle how he’s going to make a young kid and a really crook girl look like a couple of hit men, but I’ll leave that to him.
There is no doubt Fitzgerald is in charge now and I follow his instructions all night and all the next day. Work with the FireCrew, cleaning up the mess. They’re real slick. They’ve dealt with this stuff before.