Revenge (6 page)

As the sun broke, the gray London sky slowly appeared above the rooftops of row upon row of houses. TV antennas pointed south, attached to smokeless chimneys that lined up in a never-ending row of disorganized modern architecture. George nudged Jason to wake up. They were outside Boudica's compound. SYUI wanted Jason to join the raid, as he knew where Kinver was being held. Although George had a secret agenda, he wanted to witness for himself Jason in action.

Jason yawned and slowly opened an eye. He snuggled under what he thought was a blanket. He looked down. It was George's jacket. He must have placed it on him after Jason had gone to sleep.

He
does
have
a
heart
after
all.

“What time is it?” Jason yawned, stretching his arms and shivering.

“Just after six. They just called us on the radio. Scott was right. Coco-Bites is loaded with special sugars and chemicals that attach themselves to our bodies' nervous systems. That's why you kids are addicted to it. The stuff works like a super dose of caffeine and illegal drugs. If you stopped eating the cereal, you would go through withdraw. It would give headaches and cause depression.”

“Don't look at me. I don't touch it, but I bet that's what killed a friend of mine. Colin Wilkes, he must have been eating it before they gave him a drug test. He ended up killing himself after being thrown off the Manchester United second team. Boudica is responsible for that too. That witch has a lot to answer for.”

When Jason climbed out of the car and removed George's jacket, the cold air flushed over his stiff body and he tried to flex his muscle to get some warm blood pumping around. George gave orders on the radio. Everyone was to stand and wait for his signal.

“Okay, Jason, where is he?”

“That building on the right. We need to get to him before this lot comes crushing through the gates.” Jason pointed with his finger.

“Easier said than done. That building is the farthest away from the gates. How do we get that far before the guards come out?”

“Drive in and leave the rest to me. I will sit in the back.” Jason climbed in the back of George's black Rover, which was unmarked. There was no reason to suspect it was a police vehicle.

When they approached the gate, Jason rolled down his window. The guard, a small Chinese man, approached. Another much older guard looked down at them through the glass windows of the gatehouse.

“I'm Jason Steed. I work for Lin Cho. I have some urgent news for Boudica.”

“Who's this man?” asked the guard pointing a nicotine-stained finger.

“Oh, that's just George. He's my driver.”

“Boudica is not here. You will have to come back later.”

“No, it's urgent,” Jason said as he stepped out of the car. “We will have to call her from the guardhouse.” He walked into the guardhouse to ensure the guard inside didn't raised the alarm. Jason strolled in and spoke to the guard, who was drinking a mug of tea and working on a newspaper crossword puzzle. Jason was not proud of what he was about to do, but thinking about Kinver and how he was suffering made it easier.

“I need to call Boudica. It's urgent,” Jason said. The old guard smiled at Jason—so young and innocent looking. He briefly took his eyes off the boy while he lifted the phone receiver. Jason hopped on his right foot and gave a hard kick with his left foot, hitting the guard in the chest and knocking him back against the wall. The guard fell to the floor, winded. Jason threw a second kick that landed across the guard's face. The guard's head smashed back against the wall. He slowly slid down the wall into an unconscious heap.

George appeared with the second guard in a headlock. He used his other hand to call on the radio. Within a few seconds, two uniformed police officers took the man. George ran to his car with Jason in tow. He sped through the gates to the warehouse where Kinver was being held.

The morning silence was broken by the sound of police sirens as blue-and-white police cars sped into the compound. The guards with the dogs patrolling the perimeter released them in a bid to escape.

George and Jason simultaneously jumped out of his Rover and tried the door on the factory. It was locked. George took a step back and ran at it, hitting it hard with his shoulder. The door lock gave, and the door flew open. George ran inside, quickly followed by Jason, who ran passed him down a corridor. As he turned a corner, they came into a large open area. Two guards shouted at Jason and ran toward him. A third guard shouted from behind them and also gave chase.

Jason felt adrenaline rush through his body. His first karate instructor, Wong Tong, had shown him how to use an adrenaline rush as a powerful weapon. He had explained that when a mother saw her child run over by a car, she had the strength to lift the car or how a man in a field being chased by a bull had enough adrenaline to leap and clear a fence. Jason could force it through his body, triggering full alertness. The only disadvantage was that afterward, he would be very tired. Adrenaline burned the body's sugar levels.

The closest guard tried to grab Jason. Jason ducked and dove to the floor in a push-up position and swung his legs around, knocking the man's own legs away and bringing him down to the floor. Jason sprang to his feet and threw a full roundhouse kick at the second guard, catching him in the chest. Jason leapt in the air and landed with full force on his right foot against the man's knee. The result, as intended, shattered the man's kneecap. He screamed in pain and rolled around on the floor, holding his knee. The first guard was now back up on his feet. He dove at Jason with outstretched arms. Jason jumped back and then kicked out with his right foot—directly into the guard's face. The impact made a crack as the guard's nose broke, and pain shot through his body. He fell to the ground, blood gushing from his nose.

“Stitch that!” George shouted as he head-butted the guard that approached from behind. Jason looked up to see the guard falling backward, blood already streaming from his nose. Jason gave George a smile and nod of approval before he headed off down a corridor. He found the room where he had last seen Kinver and burst through the doors. Kinver was still on the bed. Jason went over to him to wake him and grabbed his arm. It was cold and stiff. He pulled away and cringed. Kinver was dead.

“Is he okay?” George asked, panting as he entered the room.

“No, we're too late. Look, they have burned his chest with something.” Jason grimaced as he pointed at fresh burn marks on Jim's chest. Another guard had come up behind George and put his arm around his throat and pulled George back. They fell on the ground, with George desperately trying to get a hand on his attacker. Jason started to run over to help; however, a side door opened and two identical men in white coats appeared.

Wing
and
Wong. I
wondered
where
you
would
be
, Jason said to himself. One of them ran at Jason, screaming as he approached. He leapt in the air and aimed a high kick toward Jason's face. Jason jumped aside and retaliated with a kick of his own. It was blocked by the man's forearm. He spun around to kick Jason.

So
we
know
karate, do we? What style? I wonder.
Jason said to himself.

Jason defended himself, blocking blow after blow from his attacker. He didn't attempt to attack back. He was trying to size up his opponent. George was still struggling with the guard on the floor.

Tae
kwon
do—good style and fast.

Now that Jason knew what he was up against, he launched an attack on Wing, kicking out in succession, jumping from foot to foot. Wong joined in. The fight began in earnest. Grunts of pain and effort, showers of sweat, and smears of blood covered Jason. No doubt Jason was fast—his punches and kicks powerful and precise. He delivered as good as he got, but he was facing two very determined martial arts experts. When Jason drove Wong to his knees, Wing took his place so there was always one of them fighting him while the other got a breath.

They clearly hoped to wear Jason down. Bloody and bruised, they continued their relentless assault until Jason drove his fingers into the windpipe of one of his assailants and crushed the man's trachea. As Wong staggered back and fell to the ground, gasping and snorting like a pig, Wing's attention slipped for a second. Jason was high on adrenaline. His gift of quick reflexes, along with years of training, made a lethal combination, and he recoiled his right leg. The savage kick caught Wing off-guard—the blow breaking his jaw in two places. Doctors would later have to fit three titanium plates to get his jaw back together.

Jason leapt over Wing and threw a roundhouse kick at the other twin, who was trying to get to his feet. Wong fell and landed on his back. Jason pounced on him with his knee in the man's chest, followed by more than a dozen punches into Wong's blood-covered face. He heard George gasping for air from his attacker, who still had his arms around his throat.

Jason cursed and ran to George's aid. He kicked out at the man's face, breaking the man's nose and rendering him unconscious. Jason stepped over George, who was rubbing his throat and trying to get to his feet. Jason attacked the unconscious man again. George watched as Jason dived at the man, who was already not moving. Jason turned him over and pounded the man's face with an onslaught of fast, well-aimed punches. Blood splattered back into Jason's face and mixed with his own blood and sweat. He panted heavily as he tried to gasp for oxygen to supply his lungs.

“Jason, stop. He isn't going anywhere,” George said.

The pounding continued.

“Jason, stop,” George shouted. “I think you bloody killed him—stop!” Jason, who seemed to lose control, becoming a brutal and savage predator, shocked George.

Jason then stopped and sat on the floor next to his blood-covered prey. He panted heavily. Sweat and blood rained down his face. He wiped his face with his trembling hands. Several police officers ran into the room. George took control. They called an ambulance to collect the wounded. They were visibly stunned by the sight of Jason's victims.

“Look, sir,” a young officer who was holding up a clipboard with writing on it said. “It looks like they got Kinver to talk.”

“What does it say?” George asked, still rubbing his throat. The SYUI officer walked over.

“It's in Chinese, but it has two names written in English on it,” he said, showing his superior. George took it and walked over to Jason. He still sat on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees, his head down. George kneeled down beside him.

“Are you all right, Jason?” George asked sympathetically.

Jason looked up, his nose still running with blood and his hair and face covered in blood splashes. Jason looked at the back of his trembling hands. His knuckles were split open. They were also covered in his and his victim's blood.

“Tired, sir.”

“You speak Chinese. What does this say? It looks like they got poor Jim Kinver to speak after all.”

Jason glanced at it. “It says George Young and Jason Steed. The rest is in Chinese.”

“I bloody know that, don't I? What does the Chinese say?” George shouted impatiently. His sympathetic feelings did not last long.

“I can speak Chinese. I have no idea how to read it.” Jason bowed his head back down. He was still trembling.

Boudica's men had started a fire to try to burn the evidence. The wooden pallets and boxes burned rapidly, and a hungry blaze raged through the building. Smoke started to fill the corridors.

A police officer pulled Jason to his feet. They had to get out of the blazing inferno.

Mrs. Bristow gently woke Janice by giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Morning, sweetheart. It's time to get up,” she said, picking up Janice's clothes from yesterday off the carpet. “Oh, and if you want to spend half an hour in the bathroom getting ready, at least wait until Jason has used the toilet. Yesterday, the poor boy stood outside dancing on the spot.” She headed into Jason's room.

Oh, no, Jason. How am I going to explain that? Maybe the police brought him back after the doctor and Scott dropped me off
, Janice thought, dreading what might happen if he was still out.

“Jason,” Mrs. Bristow shouted as she ran out of his room. “Jason…he's gone!” Mr. Bristow came out of the kitchen and helped look for him. It was not long before they came into Janice's room to look for him.

“He's not here. He's at the police station. He's been there all night,” Janice admitted.

“What has he done now?” her father asked. “Why didn't you tell us?”

Janice tried to explain, but she was cut off by the doorbell. Thinking it might be Jason and she'd be off the hook, Janice jumped up to get it.

“I have a package for Mr. and Mrs. Bristow,” a man said. He was wearing black leather motorcycle trousers and a jacket. He wore a large, black, full-face crash helmet. Janice took the package and went into the kitchen, where her parents were starting breakfast.

“It's a delivery for you,” Janice said as she handed the package to her mother. Mrs. Bristow looked puzzled and started to open the parcel.

The explosion could be heard from miles around. Not a single window was left intact. Glass and debris showered the few parked cars below the apartments. The explosion also blew a hole in the ceiling, damaging the apartment upstairs and killing the cat. The fire that burned afterward completely gutted the apartment. The bodies of the Bristow family were never found.

When Jason emerged from Boudica's blazing factory, he was faced with a parking lot full of flashing sirens from police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks. He staggered toward George's car, coughing from the smoke. He needed to sleep somewhere. He limped a few paces when two paramedics swiftly approached him. They walked him to the ambulance and told him to lie on the bed while they cleaned the blood from his hands and face. His nose had finally stopped bleeding. The loss of blood and earlier exertion had drained Jason's young body of all his energy.

“You'll be all right now, son. I'll take you to St. Mary's Hospital and they will check you over,” the paramedic said.

“No, I want to go home now,” Jason coughed. Jason climbed off the bed and tried to stand. The paramedic pushed against Jason's shoulder.

“No, son, stay on the bed. You need to go to the hospital. You are injured and have breathed in a lot of smoke.”

Jason swiftly knocked his hand away. “I'm not in the mood to argue, sir. I want to go home. I need to see George Young.” Jason stood. He could just see George talking to some other officers. George caught sight of Jason standing in the doorway of the ambulance and broke away to talk to him.

“You all right, son?” George asked.

“I want to go home, George. I'm okay. I don't need the hospital.” George studied Jason. He looked so small. His normally shiny blond hair was matted with blood and dried sweat. His face was still covered with soot, and his hands were covered in fresh bandages. George felt guilty for using such a young boy on an operation. He has a fifteen-year-old son of his own and would never dream of putting him through this.

“You're right, son. I will drive you myself. That's the least I can do.” He put his arm on Jason's shoulder and led the boy to his car. The drive home started quiet. Jason sat heavily in the front seat, fighting to stay awake. His and George's eyes were still stinging from the smoke.

“Jason, if you don't mind me saying, you lost it back there, didn't you?”

Jason didn't reply.

“You just kept hitting that guy. It was bloody scary to watch you like that.”

Jason sighed. “I build up adrenalin in my body and use it as a weapon. It helps me fight. Without it, I could never take on those twins and win. I just can't control it properly yet. It's worse when I lose my temper.”

There was a long silence.

“I wanted to thank you, Jason, not just back there for getting that guy off me but for the whole operation. Oh, and I'll need you to make a statement regarding the murder of Russell Watson. They'll arrest Andrew Cho for that and the store owner's murder.” Jason's eyes had closed, but at George's statement, they popped opened.

“What did you say? Store owner?” Jason looked horrified. George looked away from Jason's glare and kept his eyes on the road. “It was a real knife? You tricked me! I killed him.” Jason punched his own forehead with the back of his hand and swore at George.

“Come on, Jason. We couldn't use a fake knife. Cho may have noticed and the whole bleeding operation would have been at risk.”

Another long silence.

Jason stared out the window and said quietly, “I will never forgive you for doing this.”

After an awkward silence, George turned on his police radio. The voice over the radio was giving details about a large explosion at an apartment block. It was suspected to be a gas pipe accident.