Survival (19 page)

Eva and Mitchell exchanged a glance of sympathy.
The tension in the room seemed to dissolve now that
Miss Bennett was gone and everybody carried on with
their jobs.

“I was so close to him,” Mitchell grumbled to Eva. “I’d
tracked him to somewhere round King’s Cross. I thought
I had anyway. Then I was called in about all of this.”

“She’s been nuts since that guy turned up,” said Eva,
nodding towards William Lee. The man was stooped
over a table, scrutinising a melted lump of red plastic.
The white tag on the table read ‘ketchup bottle’. “She
wants me to watch him. Find out about him.”

Mitchell shrugged. “You can do that,” he said.
“You’re good at all this secret stuff. It’s perfect for you.”

Eva’s heart jolted.

“You’ve gone red,” Mitchell chuckled.

Eva couldn’t answer. She was burning with a violent
mix of pride and horror. Was working at NJ7 really the
perfect job for her? She couldn’t even work out how
she’d feel about that if it was true.

After an awkward moment of silence, Mitchell
became embarrassed himself and shuffled across the
room to find a seat. Eva fought to block out her
thoughts.
Act normal
, she scolded herself. Eventually
she followed Mitchell and they sat together in the
darkest corner, behind one of the evidence tables.

“It’s so weird,” Eva said, almost to herself, fiddling
with some of the items on the table.

“What is?”

“To think of Felix and Georgie using all of this stuff.”
All of the pieces of the board games had been carefully
set out and listed on a clipboard on the evidence table.
The boxes were mostly burned, but the pieces were
still there and recognisable for what they were – chess,
Cluedo, Scrabble… Eva flicked through the Monopoly
money and turned the little dog over in her fingers.

“Maybe even Jimmy,” she added, a croak in her voice.

“Jimmy’s dead,” said Mitchell sharply.

Eva felt it like an alarm call. She sat more upright
and pretended she was studying the little dog. “Yeah,
of-of course,” she stuttered. “I’m just saying, you know.
That’s weird. That he’s dead, I mean. And Felix and
Georgie play with all this stuff.”

She threw a smile up at Mitchell. She knew that
would distract him. She rarely smiled at him and
whenever she did he became like an obedient little
puppy. She put the little dog down and rolled the dice.

“What do think that is?” she asked when they
landed. The cubes had melted out of shape and some
of the spots had burned off.

“Who cares?” Mitchell asked. “You can’t play when
half the pieces are just bits of soot…”

“No, look,” Eva protested. “You can still make out
what it says on them. Anyway – you got anything better
to do?”

Mitchell shrugged. “Guess not,” he muttered. He
peered round the room then dropped his head again.
“I’ve got to wait around here for all these boffins to do
their… boffining.”

“I think it’s called forensic investigation.”

“Looks like boffining to me.” He rolled the dice and
picked up the battleship playing piece. “Double four,” he
announced, moving the piece round the board, over
black patches and smears of melted plastic.

“That’s not a four,” said Eva. She dusted some of the
ash off the dice, but it didn’t make it any clearer.

“Whatever,” Mitchell shrugged. He rolled again.

“You meant to be taking notes on all of this?”

Eva picked up her notebook and pretended to write.

“9.41 p. m.” she announced in mock seriousness.
“Mitchell Glenthorne rolled a double four, followed by a
double one million.” She picked up his battleship and
zoomed it round the board as fast as she could. “Pass
‘Go’ and collect £200.” They both collapsed into giggles
and had to control themselves when some of the
forensic team eyed them with disapproval.

“You can’t play with that,” hissed a technician from
across the room. “It’s evidence.”

“Yeah,” Mitchell groaned. “Evidence that Felix and
Georgie have no life.” He grabbed a fistful of the
Monopoly property cards and waved them in front of
Eva’s face. “All mine,” he announced.

“You wish,” Eva said with a smile.

“Aw, poor Eva. OK then, you can have the stations.” He
flicked through the cards and picked out the four stations:
Liverpool Street, Marylebone, Fenchurch Street…

“Where’s Euston?” he asked.

“There is no Euston, you idiot. It’s King’s Cross.” Eva
grabbed the cards from him. “Let me have a look.” She
dealt them out slowly, deciphering the fragments of
print on the surviving portions of the cards.

“Forget it,” said Mitchell. “It’s not there. It probably
went up in flames.”

“That’s stupid,” Eva protested. “Why would just one
of the cards burn up when every other one is here?”

“It was probably lost before the fire then.”

Eva ignored him and placed the cards around the
board next to their property spaces. When her hands
were empty, she prodded her finger into King’s Cross,
the only property without a card on it.

“Where’d it go?” she asked again, raking over the
objects on the table and checking the floor around
them. When she looked back at Mitchell his expression
had changed. His arrogant smile had faded into
uncertainty, as if he was puzzling out a maths problem.

“What’s up?” Eva asked softly. She tried flashing a
smile at him again, but he wasn’t looking at her. His
eyes were flicking rapidly all over the Monopoly board.
Then they fixed on King’s Cross Station.

“Gotta go,” he said, rushing to his feet. He nearly
knocked over the whole table.

“Mitchell,” Eva called out. “Wait…”

It was no good. She watched him say just a couple
of words to William Lee, then they both dashed for the
door. Eva was left alone, staring at the Monopoly
board, with the feeling, deep in her stomach, that
she’d done something terrible.

Jimmy and Marla seared through the night sky like a
comet – but one with 1200 kW turboshaft engines and
two Mistral missiles.

“How did you find me?” Jimmy asked over the noise
of the chopper.

Marla picked up the helmet from behind her seat,
put it on and spoke into the headset. “I followed from
Rome,” she explained. “I told you not to trust Browder.
But I did not think you were listening.”

“But—” Jimmy stopped himself. “Thank you,”
he said. He looked across at Marla and tried to smile, but
it didn’t come out right. His mouth became a wiggly mess.

“What’s the matter?” asked Marla. “You’re fine now.
You can go to England, just like you wanted.”

“I’m not fine.” Jimmy’s face darkened and he pushed
all of his strength into the flightstick of the helicopter,
powering them onwards even faster. “Stovorsky sent
the order to kill my mum, my sister and my best friend.”

“I am sorry, Jimmy.” Marla’s voice was suddenly
sombre.

“And there’s more,” Jimmy added. “Worse.”

“Worse? What can be worse?” Marla looked at him in
astonishment, but he looked away, concentrating instead
on the controls of the helicopter. Marla stared at him
hard. The light from the LCD screens lit his expression,
a perfect mix of courage and terror. Then her eyes ran
down his arms. She saw his fingers. She saw the growing
blue stains. At first she thought it was the light from the
controls, but she quickly realised the truth.

“Jimmy, your hands…” she gasped.

Jimmy didn’t react.

“I thought…” Marla couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Stovorsky lied,” Jimmy explained quietly.

“But, but… why? Why would he do that?”

“Because lies work,” Jimmy whispered, barely audible.

“So you are…” Marla couldn’t bring herself to say it.
She looked at her own fingers and her face hardened.
The sympathy disappeared and in its place came pure
determination. “You will survive, Jimmy,” she declared.

“Not just perhaps – for sure. You will find a doctor.
Like me also.” Jimmy was shaking his head gently,
but Marla pressed on as if she was issuing a stream
of orders. “And your poison is much less than mine.
I lived near that place, remember. The poison killed
my parents.”

“It killed your parents?”

“Many years ago, yes. They worked there. For the
French.” She looked down at her lap. “But you were
only perhaps two hours. No more. You will survive.”

“It makes no difference,” Jimmy said, his tone flat.
“It’s deadly, Marla.” Steadily his voice rose. “I put my
hands into it. Like it wasn’t enough to be near to it – I
put my hands right into the actinium! Then I…” He
stopped himself suddenly.

“What?” Marla asked.

Jimmy’s eyes filled up with tears. “I thought I was
going to be able to save them,” he said. “Georgie, Mum
and Felix.” His words started to slur into each other.
“But I couldn’t anyway. And now I’m finished.”

“Jimmy, do not say it. You can still get to them
in time.”

She reached across to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Jimmy snapped, pulling away.

“Everything that comes near me…” He tailed off. “I was
built to kill and I can’t stop it. Even if I fight it. Can’t you
see all I do is cause destruction?”

“What?”

“I destroy life!” His voice boomed over the din of the
flight. “I destroy everything!”

“Jimmy, stop!” Marla yelled. “You have to be strong.
You do not destroy! You save! You are not a killer!”

Jimmy didn’t react. His fists squeezed the flight
stick and his lip trembled.

“You saved me, no?” Marla shouted. “And you
are going to save your mum and your friend and your
sister also!”

“How can I?” Jimmy yelled back. “When I can’t even
save myself?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget it. You can’t help me. Nobody can.”

Marla stared at him. Jimmy could feel her eyes on
his face. A part of him wanted to look back, as if just
seeing her sympathy would take away his troubles. But
he knew he couldn’t. He forced himself to look only
straight ahead, out of the cockpit.

Then his senses were pricked by a new noise – a
warning beep. He glanced down at the LCD and
tapped through several different screens, sucking the
information into his brain before he was even aware of
what he’d seen.

“They’re coming,” he announced grimly.

“What?”

Jimmy slammed his fist into the control panel. Then he
pointed at the screen to show Marla the two flashing red
dots steadily closing in on the black one in the centre.

“That’s us,” Jimmy explained in a gruff tone. “And that’s
two French fighter jets.” Then there was another beep,
more shrill this time, and all of the controls lit up red.

“And what does that mean?” Marla asked.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, flicked his eyes over the
dials in front of him and said, “It means hold on tight.”

Felix, Georgie and Helen moved through King’s Cross
Station with their heads dipped, scanning everything for
another sign from Zafi. Felix and Georgie had no idea
what form that would take.

“I can’t think with all this noise!” Georgie muttered.
Four station cleaners were pushing large mopping
machines across the main concourse in an area that
had been roped off after some kind of accident with two
of the stock carts. There were pools of liquid across the
floor. “Should we check the card again?” she whispered.
“Maybe it has another clue on it?”

“No,” replied her mother. “What do you smell?”

Georgie and Felix looked at each other.

“I dunno,” Felix muttered. “Smells like… station stuff.”

Georgie shrugged, but after a second her face
changed. “Wait,” she said. “Smells like breakfast
or something.”

“It’s milk and fruit juice,” said Helen.

“Milk and fruit juice?” Felix mouthed to Georgie. “I
think your mum’s lost it.” He tapped a finger against his
temple. Georgie suppressed a giggle, but then looked
across the forecourt and her expression changed.

Felix followed her eyes. The cleaners in the centre of
the concourse were scurrying around two stock carts –
the small electric vehicles that carry merchandise to
the refreshment outlets in the station. The carts were
lying on their sides about five metres from each other,
their engines burnt out and their shelf units mangled.

“Looks like they exploded,” Felix suggested.

“Explosions are popular tonight,” muttered Helen.

Felix looked again. One of the carts had obviously
been carrying milk, while the other must have been
loaded with red fruit juice of some kind. There was a
huge pool of each spreading across the floor, merging
in the middle into pink slime.

“It’s just a red pool and a white pool,” said Georgie.
“It’s not a message or a sign.”

Helen pointed to the part of the floor just next to
where the cleaners were working. It was outside the
partitioned area, so it was thick with commuters, but
for a second they cleared to reveal the bigger picture.

The pool of juice formed a red streak. The milk had
spread into a white one. But next to that was a third colour
– a permanent band of blue in the pattern of the floor tiles.

Three stripes: red, white and blue.

“It’s the French flag!” Felix gasped.

“But it’s—” Before Georgie could finish, the three of
them were running through the station. Because of the
way the carts had fallen, the liquids had spread out in
two balloon shapes to form a giant arrow, with the point
aimed in one definite direction: the passage through to
St Pancras International Terminal next door.

St Pancras was surprisingly busy, despite the Neo-democratic
Government’s restrictions on who could
travel in and out of the country. Helen, Georgie and
Felix tried to blend in, but there weren’t many other
children around.

“Where now?” asked Georgie. She and Felix couldn’t
help lifting their heads to gawp at the amazing terminal
interior. It was dominated by a huge new statue of Ares
Hollingdale, the last Prime Minister, who’d been
assassinated. Several commuters stopped to take
photos of it on their mobile phones. It was over thirty
metres high, reaching nearly all the way up to the wall
of glass and steel that loomed over everything.

About fifteen metres directly above the statue was
the ornate station clock. Felix was mesmerised by the
huge gold arms that seemed to flash in the light like
mediaeval swords.

“Get your head down,” Helen ordered. “It’s this way.” She
pulled Felix and Georgie towards the end of the concourse
where there were two refreshment outlets. One consisted
of just a few tables and chairs around a stand pretending
to be an old English pub. The other was shuttered up.

Felix was confused at first, but when he looked again
it was obvious: underneath the day’s specials chalked on
the pub blackboard there was a small ‘Z’.

“She thinks she’s Zorro, doesn’t she?” Georgie
sighed.

“Who’s Zorro?” asked Felix.

“Never mind.”

They tried to slip round the pub stand, but the server
cut them off. “Can I help you?” she barked.

Before Helen could respond, there was low, deep
voice.

“It’s OK, Steff. They’re with me.”

Jimmy’s hands flashed across the dials and switches.
He was amazed to see himself moving so calmly and
with such control, while at the same time his insides
were on fire with anger, confusion and fear.

He dipped hard, taking them close to the rooftops of
Northern France. He knew the fighter jets would never
fire at him if he was so close to French civilians. The red
flashing light in the cabin went solid for a moment, then
beeped off. The missile launch detector in the electronic
warfare software suite showed that the jets had
cancelled the missile lock on Jimmy. They were waiting.

Jimmy pulled up rapidly. The chopper leapt high into the
air and pitched backwards. The two fighter jets ripped past
them. They’d have to circle round to make another pass.

In the corner of Jimmy’s eye was Marla. Despite the
danger, she was perfectly still, staring at Jimmy as if he
was a puzzle to be solved. “Jimmy,” she said softly, “if
the actinium is not in that suitcase you buried in the
desert, where is it?”

Jimmy stayed silent. He pretended not to have heard
her and concentrated on manoeuvring the chopper.

“Where is it, Jimmy?” Marla pressed.

Jimmy took a deep breath, but couldn’t stop the rage
bubbling inside him. “I thought I was immune, OK?” he
shouted. “I didn’t know!”

“Where is it?”

Marla was shouting now too, matching Jimmy’s
anger with her own strength of will. Still Jimmy wouldn’t
say. Marla didn’t ask again. Instead she reached all the
way across and grabbed Jimmy by both shoulders.
Jimmy’s shock rattled through him like the vibrations of
the helicopter. Marla twisted him round to face her,
ripping his hands from the controls. She stared into his
eyes for a second.

What’s she doing?
Jimmy thought desperately.
Does
she want us to crash?
He knew the chopper would stay
stable for a short time, but they had less than a minute
before the French jets would be back to fire at them.
Then, with a deep breath, Marla slammed her fist into
Jimmy’s stomach.

All the wind burst from his body. He bent double over
Marla’s arm, clutching at his belly. His instincts fizzed
inside him. His hands twitched, ready to counter-attack.
It would have been simple, he knew that, as both sides of
the cockpit were still open. His mind had already
visualised the move –
twist away
, it told him.
Grab her.
Throw her out
. But Jimmy didn’t move. He didn’t want to.

He wheezed hard. It felt like he would never breathe
again, but he didn’t make a move to fight back. Marla
punched a second time, this time with her knuckles
extended. The blow came sharper, harder and aimed
precisely at his stomach. She pressed deep into him, as
if she was trying to reach inside and rip out his guts.

Jimmy had no breath left to give. He forced himself
to move his hands away.
Sit up
, he ordered himself.
Give her a target. If she wants to hit you, let her
. He
extended his arms out to the side as far as he could in
the cramped cabin and presented his front to Marla.
There were tears in his eyes from the pain, but he
wasn’t going to give in.

Marla pounded her fists into his stomach: left, right,
left, right… each time harder and harder. She was
crying now and with each blow she let out a furious
grunt. Jimmy held up a hand to stop her. She’d done
enough. He could feel it. He didn’t know how she’d
worked out what she had to do, but there was no way
he could hide it now.

Jimmy crumpled in two and pitched forward until his
head rested on the control panel. Then, with two gut-
wrenching heaves, he retched violently. He turned his face
to Marla, barely able to see her through the water in his
eyes, and puked at her feet. Marla didn’t flinch. This was
exactly what she had intended and Jimmy knew it too.

He had hardly eaten in the last twenty-four hours, so
at first nothing came up. But then, coated in thick
yellow bile from Jimmy’s stomach, came a shower of
glowing blue stones: the actinium.

Jimmy was almost on the floor of the cockpit now,
barely able to stay in his seat. The helicopter rocked
from side to side. The cabin shook. The rotor over their
heads rattled. But Marla and Jimmy were frozen. They
looked at each other, then to the pile of actinium at
Marla’s feet.

“Why?” Marla mouthed, unable to get her voice out.

Jimmy couldn’t answer at first. He was still finding it
hard to breathe and he knew there was a higher
priority. He pulled himself back into his seat and planted
his hands firmly on the control panel, just as the
helicopter threatened to dive. He snatched the
flightstick and hauled them back under control.

“You don’t understand,” Jimmy wheezed. He wiped
the back of his sleeve across his mouth, spreading
strings of yellow saliva. His words came in lurches, his
sentences chopped up between huge gulps of air. “I
needed Stovorsky to think… I’d hidden it in the desert…
so he would get Mum… and Georgie to safety.”

Marla couldn’t take her eyes off the actinium. She
pressed herself back in her seat, trying to avoid touching
it, even though she knew it was already too late for her.

“This was the only way…” Jimmy went on, gradually
getting his voice back. “So I didn’t poison everybody
around me… my body would insulate it… like the lead
suitcase…” He leaned all of his weight on the flightstick,
plunging them forwards, accelerating rapidly.

“You idiot!” Marla screamed. “You protect everybody
else, but poison yourself!”

“I thought I couldn’t be affected!” Jimmy tried to
shout, but didn’t have the strength.

“You forgot you were human.”

“I’m not human!”

“Yes you are!” Marla shoved him in the shoulder,
tears streaming down her face. “You might be
different from the rest of us, but… but… look at you!
You act and think and feel like every human I have ever
met. No – that is not right. You are only like the best
humans.” Jimmy couldn’t help glancing across at her,
but she looked away. “You are human. If you forget
that, you destroy yourself.”

Jimmy didn’t know what to say. Her words washed
through his mind. Outside the darkness closed in
around them. They were over the water now, leaving
the lights of the French towns behind them. Fog rushed
past them like ghosts escaping from hell. Jimmy gritted
his teeth and punched a few buttons on the control
panel, employing the Saphir-M chaff and flare dispenser
– the Tiger’s missile countermeasures.

“But my DNA…” he whispered, almost to himself.

“Who cares about your DNA?” Marla screamed.

“I DO!”

His cry was lost in the roar of an explosion. A French
missile tore through the debris trailing the chopper and
detonated barely two metres from them. The helicopter
banked wildly to the side and Jimmy lost control.

From behind the pub stand at St Pancras Station
emerged a tall man dressed in a shabby brown coat and
big trainers with a cap pulled down low.

“Viggsy!” Felix whispered.

Christopher Viggo couldn’t stop his harsh expression
melting into a smile. He held up a hand and Felix gave
him an athletic high five.

“I knew I couldn’t keep you lot away forever,” said Viggo.

“Why keep us away at all?” Helen wasn’t smiling. “Do
you know what we’ve been going through trying to find
you?” She gave him a shove in the chest. He stumbled
backwards and held up his hands in self-defence.

“I was protecting you,” he protested quietly, all the time
checking the station concourse to make sure they weren’t
being observed. “You should be getting on with your—”

“Protecting us?” Helen shoved him again, harder.

“He’s in so much trouble,” said Felix softly, shaking
his head.

“You don’t have a clue, do you?” Helen went on, only
keeping her voice down with difficulty. “You think you can
change the world on your own? Do you even realise that
Felix’s parents have been taken?”

“Taken?” Viggo was shocked. “By who? Where?”

“Exactly!” Helen shoved him again, even harder. Viggo
caught her wrists and pulled her round the back of the
pub stand. Felix and Georgie followed. “We need you,
Chris,” whispered Helen. She stared into his eyes. Her
voice softened. “And you need us.”

“What good do you think you being here could
possibly do?” Viggo seethed. “Even if Felix’s parents have
been taken. The only way to put that right is to get rid of
this Government. And I can’t do that with kids around.”

“Hey!” Felix protested.

“He’s right,” said Georgie. “We’re just going to get in
the way.”

“But it’s not as if we can go anywhere else, is it?”
Felix ranted. “Somebody tried to blow me up tonight.”

Before Viggo could react, Helen cut him off. “
Is
it the
kids?” she asked bitterly. “Or is it me?”

Viggo was stunned into silence. They looked at each
other, Viggo still holding Helen by the wrists. His grip
melted. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
“How’s…”

“Jimmy?” Helen shook her head. “I don’t know.” She
dropped her eyes to the floor. “He did some amazing
things so that we could come back here and live without
Miss Bennett trying to kill us.”

“Doesn’t sound like that lasted too long.” They looked
intently into each other’s faces, barely centimetres
apart, as if they were having a whole conversation
without speaking.

“So,” Felix chirped, “when you’re not single-handedly
fighting evil, you like to lurk about behind fake pubs,
right?”