Day Zero

by James Swallow

  “What about it?”

  “Nothing, nothing. I knew Colin was one of theirs. I assumed you were too.” He glanced at her. “The Kelleys want to know who killed him, then? Surprised old Ma Kelley doesn’t know all about it already.”

  Ro nodded. “Do you know?”

  “I could give it a good guess.” He paused. “Is there a… reward, so to speak?”

  “Maybe.” Ro wasn’t so sure about that, but saw no reason not to play along.

  Holden nodded. “Well, discussion is the key to any negotiation.” He stopped in front of a lock-up garage, set off side and around the corner from the flats. “Here we are. My little home away from home.”

  “You’re staying here?”

  He gave a sickly smile as he swung the door up. “Everyone needs some place to stay. And my gaff, nice as it was, is no longer hospitable.”

  “Why?” Ro asked, as she followed him in. “Someone after you?”

  “You might say that.” Holden closed the lock-up. Automatic lights flickered on, illuminating racks of equipment crammed into a too-small space. Military grade hardware, disassembled drones, communications equipment.

  Ro stared at it all in incomprehension. “Holy shit.”

  Holden shrugged. “Albion’s got more kit than it knows what to do with. Half of it goes into storage or gets sold off to their partners. I just decided to cut out the middleman.”

  “You mean you nicked it.”

  He grimaced. “Yes, fine. I nicked it. What’s it to you?”

  “You work for Albion.”

  “I did. I doubt I do anymore.”

  “Was this shit what Colin was moving?”

  He looked at her. “Some of it.”

  She held up the phone. “There’s two other numbers on here. Who do they belong to?”

  He sank back against a bench and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know.”

  Ro took a breath. Then, she hit him. Just a quick jab, under the ribs. He gave a strangled yelp and fell off the bench. She kicked him in the belly before he could get up, and dropped her knee onto his chest when he rolled over. Using her weight, she pinned him to the floor, extracted the pistol from his shoulder holster, ejected the clip and tossed the weapon into a nearby cardboard box.

  She grabbed a handful of his hair, and made him look at her. “Who do they belong to?” she asked again, calmly. One of the first lessons Billy had taught her was to stay calm when you were giving someone a thump. If you lost your head, you might permanently injure or even kill them. Or they might stick a shank in, while you were distracted.

  Holden clawed at her wrist. He was a big man, but he was in bad shape, and she was on top and ready. She popped him in the nose, and something crunched. He yelped and fell back, clutching at his face. She batted his hands away and jerked his head back up. “Stop whining. It’s not broken – just bent. I will break it if you keep acting like a wasteman. Who do the numbers belong to?”

  “I– I don’t know their names!”

  She let his head fall back with a thump. “But you know who they are?”

  “Yes! Yes, goddamn it.”

  She rose smoothly to her feet, and let Holden scramble to his. He sat on the bench, holding his face. “Who are they?”

  “Clients,” he said, in a strangled voice. “Colin was a go-between. They bought, he delivered…” He hesitated. There was something else.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “They might have… sub-contracted him. If you get me.”

  “To deliver for them.”

  “One of them, at least, yeah. He mentioned something, and I put it together. Later. After… after what happened.”

  “After he was murdered, you mean.”

  Holden swallowed. “Yeah.”

  Ro looked down at him. “One of them killed him. With something you sold him.” Even as she said it, she knew it was right. “Which one did it?”

  Holden looked away. “I need protection.”

  Ro paused. “What?”

  “Are you deaf? Protection. Help. If I say anything, I’m as good as dead. And not just because of these guys. Albion wants to shut me up as well. They almost caught me earlier today. I’ve been living out of this box for the last forty-eight hours.”

  Ro shook her head. “I need more, or you can stay here for all I care.”

  Holden stared at her. Then, softly, “I know who they’re working for.”

  That got her attention. “Talk.”

  He shook his head. “Look, I’ll tell you, and I’ll give all of this to your bosses if they can get me out of the country.” He gestured. “I got enough equipment in here to outfit a small army. You’re telling me the Kelleys can’t use some of it?”

  Ro frowned. The Kelleys could always use a few extra shooters. And it might be enough to get her off the hook for Colin’s mistakes. “I can’t make any promises,” she began.

  “Then take me to someone who can,” he said.

  21: The Flat

  Marcus Tell’s flat was empty when Olly and Liz got there. Not totally stripped bare, but empty nonetheless. Olly could feel it. “Done a runner,” he said.

  Liz nodded. “Yes. But to where?”

  “A person with this much to hide – he’s probably got a few places hidden in the city. I know I would.” Olly looked around, thinking. “Nothing on his Optik, but maybe something written down?”

  “Analog. Old school.”

  “He’s in his sixties, according to his – I mean Tell’s – current ID.” Olly paused. “Though that doesn’t mean much. My nan used to love the internet.”

  “So you’ve said. Still, it’s somewhere to start at least. I’ll check the loo.”

  “I’ll check the fridge.” Olly opened it, and looked over the contents. Nothing special, nothing curious. The sort of things you might find in any pensioner’s larder. But as he closed the fridge, his Optik gave a chime and he pulled it out.

  He had a number of passive apps installed, including one used to detect signals from web cameras and the like. In a lot of laptops and tablets, the camera app was always recording in some fashion, even when you thought otherwise. Most of what it recorded it automatically sent to the cloud, but if you were clever you could divert the data into a private server.

  Olly activated a signal tracer and followed it around the kitchen, and then across the small sitting room. It faded and strengthened by turns. Where was it coming from? He could hear Liz rooting around in the loo. “Liz…?” he called out.

  “What?”

  “I think I’ve got something.”

  Liz came into the setting room. “What is it?”

  “There’s a signal. I haven’t found the source yet, but I bet it’s a camera.” He looked at her. “If it was me, and I was going to hide, I might leave a camera behind just to see who came looking.”

  “Smart.” Liz turned, studying the ceiling and the moulding. “If you find it, don’t touch it. It might be booby trapped.”

  “You what?” Olly said, startled. “Like a bomb or some shit?”

  “Yeah, something like that. We don’t know who Tell is, or why they’re after him. We don’t even know who’s after him.”

  Olly frowned. “I figured it was Albion.”

  Liz shook her head. “Maybe. Or maybe someone else entirely.” She sat down on the couch. “The possibilities are fair endless at this point.”

  “This is getting complicated.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I – hang on.” She pulled out her Optik as it buzzed, her eyes narrowed. “What is this… a photo?” Bagley’s voice filled the air a moment later.

  Courtesy of Hannah Shah, Elizabeth. Lincoln met with a certain Mr Holden, in Whitechapel. It seems that he’s tied up in Dempsey’s death.

  “How?” she demanded.

  Unknown at the moment.

  “Where is he now?”

  Also unknown. Albion arrived. He made a daring escape.

  “Shit. Have we got people looking?
”

  Obviously. As soon as I know anything, you’ll know.

  Liz looked at Olly. “Looks like Hannah might have found something.”

  “I heard.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  Olly shrugged. “No. I mean, she got us those passes, but she ain’t exactly bypassing firewalls, is she?”

  “Not everyone is a spy or script-kiddie, Olly. But they can all be useful.”

  “Like Sarah Lincoln, you mean? Is she one of us too?”

  Liz laughed. “God, no. No, she’s playing her own game. But Hannah, bless her, thinks she can aim the honourable MP for Tower Hamlets South at the right targets.” Liz sat back, arms crossed. “I wasn’t keen on the idea, I admit, but it seems to be working. At least for now.”

  “And what about when it stops?” Olly looked down at her. “She ain’t one of us. Not really. Politician, innit? Albion is bad now, but what about when it ain’t politically expedient to bust their balls?”

  “Expedient?” Liz said, eyebrow raised.

  “I know what it means.”

  “You’re like an onion, Olly. Layers and layers.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Also, you can be a bit whiffy.”

  Olly made to retort, when his Optik vibrated in his hands. “Found it,” he said. “Right there, in the moulding over the kitchen door.”

  Liz stood, eyes narrowed. “There’s a knothole there. Might be something behind it. Get me a chair.” Olly grabbed a chair from the kitchen and she clambered up to the hole, pulling out her multi-tool as she did so. Carefully, she prised away a cork blind to reveal a neatly cut hole, just large enough for a web camera. She pulled it out and studied. “I know this model. Runs off the wifi. Has a battery life of a day or two. People use them as nanny-cams. Here, see if you can trace the signal.”

  Olly caught it. But as he did so, a second alert chimed. “What the hell…?”

  Liz looked down. “What?”

  “I think someone is trying to – shit! Liz!” Olly lunged and tackled her from the chair, even as the first shot sounded. It was like a whip-crack, echoing amid the sound of breaking glass. The shot passed through the air where Liz’s head had been and punched into the wall opposite, filling the air with plaster dust. A second shot followed, and a third.

  “I think we found the drone,” Olly shouted.

  “More like it found us – stay down. We got to get to the door.” Liz pushed Olly aside and rolled onto her stomach. Follow me, and keep your bloody head down.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Out of here. Bagley – I need a route, something that won’t walk us in front of a bullet,” she snarled.

  Calculating. You should know that the police have been alerted. That almost certainly means Albion has been as well.

  “Wonderful,” Olly said. “If the drone doesn’t shoot us, they will.”

  “Not if we move quickly. Come on.” Liz crawled towards the front door. Out of the corner of his eye, Olly saw a dark shape pass across the window. He grabbed Liz’s ankle.

  “Wait! I think he’s tracking us.”

  Liz froze. Olly watched the window. The drone hovered for a moment, and then dropped away. Olly released Liz. “Go, go, go.”

  They reached the door a moment later, and went through into the corridor. Doors slammed as eavesdroppers retreated. There were no windows in the corridor, but that didn’t mean much, especially given the calibre of weapon involved. Olly had watched enough online ballistic tests to know the walls of the building weren’t going to be much of an impediment. As if to prove the point, the wall abruptly burst inwards, showering the corridor with chips of brick and splinters of wood. A second shot followed, burying itself in the doors of the lift at the other end of the corridor.

  “Stairs,” Liz said. “Hurry!”

  “How the hell can he see us?” Olly shouted.

  Liz grabbed him and yanked the Optik out of his hand. “This. You cloned Tell’s Optik, remember?” She smashed it against the wall and flung it back the way they’d come. “Right. Keep moving.”

  They hurried down the stairs. Olly’s back itched the entire way, in expectation of a bullet. But no more shots followed. “He can’t have many bullets left,” he said, panting slightly. “Weight requirements alone would throw off the ammunition capacity…”

  “All he needs is one,” Liz said, over her shoulder. “We have to get somewhere a drone can’t follow, right now, or we’re dead.”

  Coyle frowned in concentration as he strafed the side of the council block. Calculations ran through his head as he fired, trying to predict and track the movements of targets he couldn’t see. He needed them out in the open, and quickly. It wasn’t like the other times – this was a prolonged assault rather than a surgical strike, and that could have consequences.

  A certain amount of collateral damage was acceptable, but too much and it attracted the wrong sort of attention. If Albion managed to tag Holden, there was a chance he might have information that could compromise the operation. Then again, maybe not. But whoever these two were, they were a definite danger. They’d raided a police station, and they’d located what he was now certain was Tell’s flat, something even he hadn’t been able to do – that implied a level of professionalism he found unsettling.

  No one had warned him that there would be other specialists in play. That added a layer of complication to an already complex problem. Albion was bad enough, but another group – equally skilled – meant the chances of discovery had gone up.

  In all his years as a killer, Coyle had only ever come close to discovery on a few occasions. In every instance, he had pulled out of the operation in question, and made himself scarce. Professional ethics aside, discretion was the better part of valour.

  Unfortunately, that option was not available to him here. If he departed, Zero Day would almost certainly seek to punish him – not to mention those he was closest to. Unless he managed to get to them first. His eyes flicked to the tracker program, still sifting through the jungles of data in search of its prey, and his. Until it located Zero Day, there was nothing to be done save press forward and do what he’d been hired to do.

  He pulled the drone back, letting them descend. They’d make for a vehicle of some kind. There was a smallish car park not far from the doors. He let the drone circle the building while he considered his options.

  The GPS he’d been using to track them was gone. They’d figured out how he was tracking them. Luckily, there were other methods available to him. He brought up the drone’s proximity-grid and saw that there were almost a dozen other drones in the area. It was a matter of moments to hijack their sensors and build a picture of the area. He didn’t have much time. Already, the police were on their way, Albion too. His window for dealing with this particular problem was rapidly closing.

  His Optik trilled. Frowning, he answered the call. “Hello?”

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  Zero Day.

  “I am handling a situation, as we discussed.”

  “As solutions go, that will only lead to more problems.”

  “If you had located Tell’s Optik in time, it wouldn’t be an issue. But here we are.” Coyle turned his attentions back to the drone’s display. “Rest assured, I will keep collateral damage to a minimum.”

  “Collateral damage is irrelevant. Your actions threaten the security of our ongoing operation – ironic, given that you were employed to do the opposite.”

  Coyle smiled. He could hear the anger in Zero Day’s voice. “I am merely attempting to hold up my end of the bargain.” He paused, and then added, “I was not warned that there were other professionals involved.”

  “An unforeseen complication.”

  Coyle’s smile faded. Had there been a hesitation there? Grist for the mill. He filed the possibility away for later. “If you have a better solution, I’m all ears.” He toggled the drone’s control and sent it veering out over the street. As he did
so, he saw the side door of the building open, and two figures sprint for the car park. “Targets sighted. Do I take the shot – or not?”

  No reply. For a moment, he thought Zero Day had cut the connection. Then, “Do as you think best. That is why you were hired.”

  Coyle fired.

  22: Sacrifice

  The shot sounded like a thunderclap.

  Liz felt it burn through the air past her, and into the side of a nearby car, rocking the vehicle on its axle. The shot had narrowly missed her, and only because she’d been helping Olly to his feet when he’d slipped. Too close for comfort.

  “Car! Get a car!” Liz shouted, shoving Olly down and out of the line of fire. The drone was moving fast, arrowing towards them. Her display futzed and fizzed as she tried to get a bead on it. Something was wrong. “Bagley – what’s going on?”

  The drone. It has a more extensive set of tools than we predicted. I would suggest getting out of sight and quickly. The police are coming, and Albion aren’t far behind.

  “So you said. Olly?”

  “Got one,” he said. The doors of a nearby Sumitzu swung open. Liz shoved him towards it as the drone approached. She spun, firing. The drone veered off at the last second and she dove into the car. Olly was already in the driver’s seat.

  “Do you actually know how to drive?”

  “Yeah, of course,” he said, but didn’t sound confident. The car growled to life.

  You’re welcome. Now get your posteriors in gear.

  A shot puckered the pavement, and bits of tarmac punched into the side of the car. Olly reversed, stomping on the accelerator. Liz was flung back into her seat as he spun the wheel and took them onto the street, banging up against a few other cars on the way. “This isn’t as easy as games make it out to be,” he said, apologetically.

  Liz laughed. “No, I expect not. Just keep us moving.”

  “Where to?”

  “Whitechapel Station. There’s an entrance on Durward Street, that’s closest. Bagley, pull us up a route.” She turned, checking for pursuit. Police cars were swarming in the distance, lights flashing. The plods would have the car’s registration in a few minutes. They’d have to ditch it as soon as possible. “We’ll leave the car and go on foot from there.”