Jimmy Coates (18 page)

Eva pressed her lips together.
Don't say a word
, she ordered herself.
Don't even breathe.
She squeezed her hands into fists, physically restraining herself from trying to win Mitchell round.
He'd attack before he understood.
More than ever, she was aware of the thick muscles in the boy's neck and shoulders. The harsh light overhead cast deep shadows in his skin, making him look older than he was.

“Why are you looking at me?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“Nothing,” Eva said, quickly. “I…” She tried to force out of her mind the thought of Mitchell's blood and what it made him capable of – what it compelled him to do. Could the boy in front of her ever realise the good that he could achieve? “I need to show you something,” Eva added suddenly. “Follow me.”

She didn't wait for a response, but hurried away through the murky tunnels. After a second she heard Mitchell's steps behind her.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Eva didn't reply. “I've been everywhere in this whole underground maze. There's nothing you can show me I don't know about.”

Eva just kept walking, taking quicker and longer strides. She was scared that if she slowed down, or distracted herself by replying to Mitchell's questions, she'd lose the courage to lead him where she wanted him to go.

Eventually they were away from the busier areas of the network and into the tech department. Once again Eva noticed how much murkier it was here.

“Stupid energy-saving light bulbs,” Mitchell muttered, just half a pace behind her. “I reckon the science lot must all be vampires or something.” He choked up a nervous laugh.

Eva led him through the labs. To her relief, they were largely deserted, with only a couple of cleaners and a lone technician totally absorbed in his work. Eva shuddered at the thought that she might encounter William Lee again. Her heart eased in the next lab when she saw that Lee's blue chair was empty. However, it was swivelling. Was the man still lurking somewhere? Perhaps this was where he liked to hide from Miss Bennett, thought Eva. Or perhaps he was working on something.
Still fixing the satellite surveillance system?
she wondered. No – surely he would have called in an entire tech team to help him by now.

Eva hurried past, and in the tunnel that led them away, they came at last to the slim gap in the concrete wall. Eva couldn't help smiling. A small part of her had wondered whether she'd imagined the whole thing and that the gap would have disappeared. She paused on the threshold and took a deep breath.

“What's in there?” Mitchell asked, confused. “I've never seen…”

“Mind the steps,” Eva whispered, without turning to look at him. Was she doing the right thing? Was this what Mitchell needed to see? It was too late to doubt herself now. She stepped into the darkness and led Mitchell down the narrow flight of stairs, towards the strip of bright light at the bottom. Mitchell had to squeeze his shoulders in to fit, but he was following keenly. Eva could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

At the bottom Eva paused again, listening. There were no voices from inside the lab this time. She peered out at the brightly lit chamber to double-check, then finally stepped out.

“What does…?” Mitchell wandered in, gazing around and blinking hard.

“I saw this the other day,” Eva explained, nervously. “When I realised what it was… I mean,
who
it was…”

“What do you mean?”

Eva marched right up to the metal table in the centre of the room. A black plastic sheet covered the human-shaped mound that lay on top of it, but the green laser was still firing, and still in place. When Eva got closer, she saw there was a tiny hole in the black sheet around the eye. The laser was still at work. Eva could hardly breathe at the horror of seeing it in detail, and the faint smell of bleach made her feel sick, but she couldn't stop now. Mitchell had to see. He had to know what NJ7 was doing. He had to realise that there was something more he could do, another way he could live.

“Show me, then!” Mitchell huffed. “You've led me all round this stupid…”

Eva whipped the sheet away. She did it in one smooth, swift movement, so she wouldn't have the chance to back out. Suddenly the temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees. Eva stepped back and looked away, wincing. Mitchell staggered forward. A noise escaped his mouth that Eva had never heard before – the whistle of breath from a parched throat, a silent scream. He seemed to buckle at the knees and had to plant his hands on the edge of the metal slab to support himself.

Eva backed away and watched Mitchell's back arch forward over the ragged, but still breathing, body of his only brother, Lenny Glenthorne. And that's how she left him.

The ornate red letters of LOCO hung from the awning over the pavement like four twisted devils trying to snatch the people below. There was already a crowd outside the venue so Jimmy and Saffron drove past without dropping their speed and pulled up round the corner. The Bentley would have drawn too much attention. He saw it for only a second, but the image of the scene froze in Jimmy's mind. The first thing he remembered were the two huge bouncers. A man and a woman. Both armed. Why weren't they hurrying everybody inside? And why hadn't the police come to disperse the crowd – or arrest everybody?

“I thought crowds like that were illegal without a licence,” Jimmy muttered, almost to himself.

“They are,” Saffron replied. “Looks like the Capita pays off the local police.”

Jimmy nodded, already shifting his focus to the other features of LOCO. He found himself mentally deconstructing the building: a huge place, detached from the houses around it. A converted cinema, Jimmy quickly realised from the crumbling art deco façade and the fact that it was all brick, no windows. His brain filtered the information, rubbing every detail together, testing connections to see what became significant. The size of the crowd outside, for example. Jimmy found he was comfortable assuming that the place was similarly packed inside. And from the size of the building, that meant a lot of people.

A lot of places to conceal a hostage
, he thought, picturing Viggo strapped down somewhere, possibly unconscious.

“We'll need to get the vehicle close,” he said, scared for a moment at the unfamiliarity of his own voice. It sounded flat, almost mechanical. “The subject might be immobile.” These words were coming from somewhere else, a deep inner sense that operated more clinically, more automatically. A place where people were ‘subjects' or ‘targets' and life was just a mission to be executed. No doubts. No hesitation. No feelings.

“Can we be sure he's definitely in there?” Saffron asked. It had crossed Jimmy's mind too. What if the Capita were really keeping Viggo somewhere else?
What if he's dead?
Jimmy thought suddenly. He shook off the question, not wanting to acknowledge that his programming was right to ask it. Without evidence that Viggo was still alive, and that he was at LOCO, was it too risky to go in trying to find him?
No
, Jimmy told himself, struggling to keep control of his thoughts, like they were wild dogs.
The risk is
not
going in. If Viggo is there and we leave him, he will be dead.

“We have to assume he's in there,” Jimmy announced. “And the Capita has to assume we have the H Code.”

“The H Code,” Saffron repeated, blankly. She stared into the middle distance, terror gradually creeping across her face. “What are we going to do?”

Jimmy leaned over and ran his fingers up either side of the centre panel of the dashboard.

“We don't need the H Code,” Jimmy said, his voice growing stronger every second as the dark energy of an assassin flooded his body, blotting out the human vulnerability. “We just need a few extra seconds.” There was a click, and the dashboard panel came away. Jimmy carefully lifted it out of position and reached into the secret compartment behind.

The Bentley was full of hiding places like this. It had first belonged to the French Ambassador, and he'd used it to smuggle documents, among other things, from Britain to France. Then NJ7 had seized the car and been in the process of searching it when Viggo had used it as his escape from Secret Service life. Ever since then it had been disguised many times, reconstructed, repainted and considerably battered by Viggo and Saffron's muscular driving. With every fix-it job on the bodywork, Viggo had discovered more and more hidden compartments. This one was the most obvious. Jimmy and Saffron had been using it to store the laptop.

“This will give us time,” he said.

“It won't work, Jimmy. They won't let us out with Chris in return for a laptop. We'll have to prove that the H Code is on that computer.”

Jimmy shrugged. “That's just something we'll have to deal with.” He searched his mind for a strategy, but all he found was darkness, like a swarm of wasps cutting out the light. It was time to act. Jimmy took a deep breath and steadied his shoulders.

“We have to plan this,” Saffron said urgently. “And we should wait for the others. Helen will be able to help, at least.”

Jimmy glanced at the clock behind the steering wheel. He didn't need to say anything. The rendezvous was scheduled for eight minutes' time. The Capita wouldn't wait.

“OK, Rambo,” said Saffron, showing her anger now. “You're just going to blast through the front doors? Through the crowd? The bouncers?”

Jimmy thought for a few seconds, but no more. His mind was heavy with strength, but serene at the same time, as if a thick black ink had injected itself and was infusing every thought.

“Who's Rambo?” he said, thrusting the car door open and stepping into the night. Saffron had no choice but to follow. She kept her head down and jogged to catch up with him. Jimmy kept the laptop tight under his arm.

Every step swept leaves into a swirl that picked up with the wind and curled round their feet. They were two thunderstorms picking up momentum.

“They'll see us,” Saffron whispered. “They have cameras.”

The position and angles of the security cameras were already fixed in Jimmy's head. It seemed so natural to him that he hadn't even thought to comment on it.

“We walk straight past,” he said under his breath. “Head down. To the row of houses.”

Jimmy's mind zoomed from the image of the security cameras back to something else, another detail so small he hadn't even realised his eyes had registered it. When they drove past, the leaves and litter in the gutter had been dancing. Not drifting in the wind, not resting in the shelter of the curb, but trembling.
Rhythmically
, thought Jimmy.

“The bass is coming up from the underground level of the club,” he announced, picking up his pace. “Strong enough to feel it on the pavement. We go in through the basement flat of the house next door.”

“And the people who live in that flat?” Saffron asked.

“I…” Jimmy trailed off. He could only guess how he would instinctively react in order to take control of the flat. All he could predict was efficiency, speed… violence.

“Leave it to me,” Saffron ordered. She diverted into the crowd outside LOCO. Jimmy slowed his pace so as not to lose her, but she disappeared from view for a moment. Jimmy felt his eyes flicking from side to side, always searching, spotting every detail. They locked on to the faces of the people in the crowd. The assassin in him was analysing everything about them, picking up on body language. Was it hostile? Wary? Had these people been warned about Jimmy? Would they offer any resistance? Would they be easy opponents if they did?

All the time, Jimmy felt like he was watching through frosted windows, seeing the same faces with his other self – his purely human side. He wanted to wonder how old these people were, whether they had families who knew where they were and that they were breaking the law to be there… whether he would ever be able to come to a club to relax, instead of to attack.

He felt himself wanting to consider those questions, but he couldn't. His brain and body were locked. He was like a missile, primed for launch. He let his frail thoughts fall away, driven out by the tremors coming up from the pavement that confirmed the presence of the underground club.

There was a shout. Jimmy tensed, but held back. One corner of the crowd was bustling, and Jimmy could hear the female bouncer taking control. A second later Saffron was spat back out of the throng of people. They marched on together, keeping their heads low.

Saffron rang the bell of the basement flat just past the club. It was the first in a line of old-fashioned houses that had been converted into flats years ago. Saffron and Jimmy lurked in the shadows at the bottom of the steps, hidden from more of LOCO's customers hurrying past on the pavement.

A middle-aged woman answered the door with a napkin hanging from her trousers. She was still chewing.

“Sorry to disturb you, madam,” Saffron began straight away. She sounded firm, but friendly. “We're from the electricity board.” She thrust an ID card towards the woman's face. Jimmy smiled as the woman peered forward, squinting.

“I don't have my glasses,” she shrugged. “What's the matter?” In the shadows it would have been impossible to read the ID card anyway. Jimmy glanced back towards the street, wondering whether the female bouncer was going to have any trouble controlling the crowd without her security pass.

“This is an emergency call out, madam,” Saffron explained. “We've got a surge in the network that we think is being caused by a fault in your wiring. If you don't mind, we're going to have to come in and do a quick scan.”

The woman looked bemused, but Saffron's patter was fluent.

“This is my nephew,” Saffron added when the woman looked suspiciously at Jimmy. “He's on work placement with me. Bit of a computer whiz.” She leaned forward to conspire with the woman. “I couldn't do this job without him, if I'm honest.”

The woman shrugged, still chewing on the same mouthful and stepped out of the way.

“We won't be a moment, madam,” said Saffron. “You just enjoy your dinner.”

Jimmy unfolded the laptop, switched it on, then held it up against the walls, pretending to be scanning for something. Saffron went ahead of him, tapping and pressing her ear against the paintwork, gradually working her way through the flat.

“James!” the woman called out. “It's the electricity!” She pushed open the door to the kitchen and Jimmy caught sight of the woman's husband tucking into some delicious-looking food – from both plates. “I'll bet it's because of that hellhole next door,” the woman added, to Jimmy and Saffron. “Can't hear myself think most nights.”

Meanwhile, Jimmy had made his way into the room at the side of the building. It turned out to be a small bathroom: their portal into the club.

“I'm afraid we have to strip the tiling on that wall,” he called out, re-emerging into the hallway.

“Strip the tiling?” The woman was aghast. “That doesn't sound…” She looked Saffron and Jimmy up and down. “Let me just make a phone call…”

“Wait,” Saffron urged as the woman reached for the phone.

“What's going on?” It was the man, hurrying from the kitchen.

“OK,” said Saffron with a deep breath. “Here's the truth: Christopher Viggo is in the building next door.”

“What?!” gasped the woman.

“And if we don't—”

“Yes,” Jimmy cut in. His eyes flicked to the pot of pencils by the phone. “If we don't get in there to arrest him, we'll never stop what he's planning.”

“What's he planning?” asked the man.

“I'm afraid we can't tell you that, sir,” Jimmy replied. “We're from a government agency called NJ7. This is top secret and vital to the security of our nation. Can we rely on your loyalty?”

The couple looked at each other.

“Of course,” whispered the man.

“I knew you weren't from the electricity company,” said the woman with an excited smile.

“Your government will reward you for this,” said Jimmy. “You!” He turned to Saffron. “Come with me and take notes.” He grabbed a pencil from the pot by the telephone and thrust it at her. Printed along it were three words:
Efficiency. Stability. Security.

“He's the technical expert,” Saffron explained, following Jimmy into the bathroom. “But we might need some tools…”

Within a minute, the bathroom tiles were clattering round Jimmy's knees as he knelt in the bath with all the necessary tools. “You sure we won't be disturbed?” He nodded towards the door.

Saffron shrugged. “They seem pretty excited. I told them a back-up team was on the way.”

“Back-up team?” Jimmy's confusion melted into a smile when he saw Saffron texting. “Tell Felix to bring me something to eat,” he said. “The smell of that dinner is driving me nuts.”

Jimmy worked on a small, clearly defined square, not wasting any effort making the hole bigger than it needed to be. Once the tiles were off, he quickly went through the plaster, then the brick. A layer of stone slowed his progress before he hit clay, but by now the tunnel was almost long enough.

Jimmy drilled into key stress points in the earth, then chipped away at the rest, while Saffron worked behind him to remove what he dug out. His right arm slammed down with the regularity of the heavy beat pounding through from next door. Every bit of force Jimmy hammered through the chisel was magnified by the vibrations of the club. It was as if LOCO was drawing them in, willing them to break down the last barriers between them and Viggo. Them and the Capita.