Jimmy Coates (17 page)

It was chaos. While the police and NJ7 descended on the plane, the baggage handlers were tearing in the opposite direction. Helen, Georgie and Felix joined them. They dashed on to the nearest abandoned baggage cart. Helen snatched a handful of fluorescent vests from the back, threw one over her head and thrust the others at Felix and Georgie.

“Get right down!” she shouted, bundling her hair up into a cap that had been left on the front seat. She started up the cart, which whined and heaved itself along the tarmac at a steady crawl.

To Felix's amazement, the security forces blasted straight past them, ignoring the terrified herd of airport staff that was fleeing the scene. Instead, they encircled the plane. The flashing blue lights of the police vans reflected off the spreading black pool of aviation fuel in a haze of fumes. The smell burned into Felix's nostrils. The pool of fuel had spread out under the whole plane, with parallel trails leading all the way back along the route of the baggage car's wheels.

“Felix,” said Helen firmly. “I'm about to ask you to do something which you must promise never to tell your parents about.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to blow up that plane.”

Felix's mouth dropped open.

“Look through those bags behind you and find a lighter,” Helen went on.

“I will absolutely do that for you!” Felix exclaimed, his eyes wide. He frantically heaved on the suitcases one at a time and ripped them open, searching through the contents. “There must be a lighter here,” he muttered. “Doesn't anybody pack a lighter? Come on! This might be the only chance in my life I get to make something massive blow up!”

“I can't believe you're letting him do this…” said Georgie, with a small smile.

“It'll take them a few seconds to search the plane and see we're not there,” her mum explained. “But if they had to search a wreckage for our bodies…”

“Yes!” Felix punched the air, a pink plastic lighter in his fist.

“Wait until all the fuel is off our wheels,” said Helen, glancing back. “I don't want you setting light to us at the same time.” The trail from one of their wheels had run out, leaving just a single, thin line connecting them to the highly inflammable reservoir.

Felix clambered over the baggage towards the back and leaned over the side. He ignited the trail of fuel just as Helen surged the cart forward, out of the danger. The flames licked the ground behind them, almost invisible, until a sudden streak of fire ripped towards the plane.

BOOM!

A huge black and orange fist seemed to burst out of the ground and squeeze the whole plane. Vehicles toppled over and the security forces were knocked off their feet.

“This is the greatest moment of my life,” Felix whispered.

The constant buzz of the helicopters overhead went on longer than Jimmy or Saffron expected. NJ7 weren't giving up the search easily.

“Looks like you were right about their satellites,” Saffron said. They'd left the car now and were sitting near it on the muddy verge under the bridge. “They might keep the choppers up until it gets dark.”

She peered out, trying to get a glimpse of the helicopters' flight patterns. The light was already fading. Next to her, Jimmy wasn't interested in looking out at the world. He was staring down at what he held in his hands: the small rectangle of card that the Capita had shot through the window after they abducted Viggo. The corners were dog-eared and some of the print had rubbed off a little from all the wear and tear it had suffered in Jimmy's back pocket, but the type was still bold and clear: LOCO.

“Once it's dark we'll have to move quickly,” Jimmy said. “The Capita said twenty-four hours and I doubt they admit latecomers.” He stuffed the flier back into his pocket. That black mist was already building up inside him: his programming swirling into action. Was it formulating a plan? Jimmy had no idea how his own body was preparing for the night ahead, and he realised he probably wouldn't find out until he was executing the will of his assassin instinct. How was he going to get Viggo back? He searched inside himself, longing for some clue about how he could handle the battles to come.

“We have nothing to negotiate with,” he sighed, almost to himself. “Nothing. We don't have the money Chris owed them, we don't have the H Code, and the computers from Chisley Hall were useless. We're going up against the Capita with nothing.”

For at least an hour they'd been sitting under the bridge watching the shadows lengthening and listening to the helicopters. Jimmy's hunger had grown and he'd felt his energy fading. The crack of gunshots haunted his imagination. He was sure they wouldn't be the last he'd hear. He couldn't stop himself picturing Dr Longville and his guard slumped over each other. One enemy, one man who had turned out to be a friend. Both dispatched in an instant with no second chances.

“We'll find a way,” said Saffron gently. “We have to. We owe it to Chris. However he's acted lately, we have to get him back.”

Jimmy let her soothing voice wash through him. He was hardly listening. She didn't understand what was on his mind, or the torment he felt twisting his guts.

“I've been thinking about it a lot,” Saffron went on. “Even if things between us all are different afterwards – even if Chris isn't…” She paused, searching for the right word. “We owe it to everybody in Britain to save him. This country deserves the leader it voted for.”

Jimmy felt a shiver rip through him. He hadn't been able to tell her.
She still thinks NJ7 fixed the election for the Government.
Jimmy held himself still, not wanting to give away that he was hiding this secret. He wanted to give Viggo the chance to defend himself first, if he could. Had Viggo been behind the corruption, or was it all down to the Capita? Jimmy wanted to believe his friend was innocent, but the more he thought about it, the more unlikely that felt.

The darkness in Jimmy's mind was growing. Why had so many people voted against Viggo? Enough people for it not to matter that the HERMES system was crooked. Jimmy looked up to watch the cars whizzing past. All these people – did they really believe in Ian Coates? Jimmy hated even thinking about the man, but he had to. He had to work out why so many people seemed to want him to stay in charge of Britain. He noticed that a few of the cars even had bumper stickers with the Government's election slogan:
Efficiency. Stability. Security
. Maybe they'd been fooled, Jimmy thought. Maybe Miss Bennett had organised such a brilliant campaign, and been able to manipulate the TV, the press, the radio… and ultimately the voters.

Or maybe they were right. Maybe people had voted for Ian Coates because it was the right decision. Even though he had promised to abolish voting again – once and for all, this time. Maybe that's what people really wanted. Maybe it was the best way to run the country…
Efficiency. Stability. Security
. Christopher Viggo couldn't have offered any of those things.

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?