The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller (39 page)

Paul whirled around to me fully and grabbed my collar with his free hand, but not hard enough to pull me towards him; he didn’t have the strength.

“Feel
around
the house,” he urged again, almost spitting in my eyes as he did so. “We were trying so hard to find the target, we almost missed the booby trap! They don’t want us here, whatever we did with Patrick, be it the, the, the thing, the adrenaline injections, whatever,
they didn’t like it!
We tainted him, don’t you see, putting those chemicals in him? They want him their way or they don’t want him at all! Can’t you feel it? It’s moving, it’s moving on the floor! Use the connection!” He held up both of our hands, clasped together, and shook them in front of my face.

I was speechless, rattled utterly by these new revelations, and as my mouth gaped and I stared into Paul’s eyes—who by turning to me had now turned his back on Straub—I watched one of those eyes open and close in a very rapid wink.

I got it. I couldn’t believe it.
Paul, you sneaky little bastard.
On that day of unbelievable events, the thing that shocked me the most out of all them was the sheer size of Paul’s balls.

He was gambling, quite possibly, with his own freedom, and banking it all on his acting skills. Looking back, I can see why he would. He’d been great. On any other day I might have frozen with the shock of it, but with all the craziness going on, I somehow found myself rising to the challenge in a way that I might have otherwise failed to pull off. I didn’t have to pretend to be feeling the pull, after all; I just had to adapt the truth. I had no real idea what Paul was trying to get at, or what he was trying to achieve with this charade of his; if it turned out that he was trying to sabotage the operation, I decided then and there that I would ruin that attempt. I didn’t like the idea of doing that, but I believed the operation was the best and only option, damned as we would be, and I didn’t want it stopped by a possible attack of pointless principle from Paul. But I didn’t think Paul
was
trying to do that. Either way—unless I definitely knew he wasn’t onside with the mission—I had to back him. He was going to jail if didn’t, and strangely, in that moment, I realised that he had become my friend. It’s funny, isn’t it, how things only strike you in the right place and time. If that moment never comes, how would you ever know?

I looked at Straub to check if she’d seen—I couldn’t help it—but I immediately looked away, encouraged by the clear confusion on her face. David was shouting something over the walkie, but I ignored it and focused on the house, on the pull, closing my eyes. I was going to have to pull off a convincing performance of my own, now and under immense pressure. Paul’s hand hit me in the chest.

“Try holding my hand, use the connection,” he said. He sounded completely sincere. I grasped his hand, still staring at the house as intently as I could, trying to focus on the pull for inspiration without looking as if I was faking it.

“Those … those sneaky
bastards
,” I said, trying to match Paul’s tone. “It
is
different. I can see it … it’s near the door … the window … but … it’s … it’s moving?” I hoped to God this was the kind of thing he wanted, and I had to restrain an urge to look at Straub to see how I was doing, but I knew that would blow the whole thing. I was terrified.

“The gaps,” said Paul, still working the urgency in his voice. “Can you see the
gaps
?”

And that’s when I got the rest of it.

Gaps in a moving barrier, and everybody would believe only we could see it.

Paul wanted one of us to get into the house for some reason. I had to make a choice then and there if I was still on board. I still didn’t dare look at Straub, but I took her continued silence to mean that she was buying this. She wouldn’t have let us go on this long if she didn’t. And who could blame her? Our whole story before was insane, and we’d been proved right. Why would she think this was any different? She had to trust us ... or at least we were gambling that she did.

“
Yes
,” I said, surprising myself at how believable it sounded; the amazement in my voice was clear to all. “I see them. It’s not perfect; they must have changed it in a hurry and thought it was enough. They’ve put a perimeter, a different one, I feel like it’s ... lethal. Maybe not just to the target, either.” I heard Straub sigh, but not in annoyed or impatient way. I thought I heard dismay, frustration. I pressed on. “Someone could get in, but … you’ll never get that squad in. It’s moving too fast, I’d have to guide them and … I couldn’t do it….”

“Can you get through?” snapped Straub, brief, low and efficient. That was it. We had her.

“I … I think so … but … what if I get subdued? That guy’s a lot bigger than Patrick, I can see it from here.” No acting here; it was a genuine question.

“You’re not both going in,” said Straub. “That’s out of the question. We have no idea what’s in there, and if we lose you both we’re screwed.” There was also an edge to her voice now, a slight tone, and to this day I don’t know if it meant maybe she didn’t believe us one hundred percent. Straub was a very smart woman; she would have had doubts, I think.

“We have to,” said Paul, “we can’t see them without each other, and it might be too dangerous on our own.”

“If Patrick was anything to go by, they’ll be alone,” I said, actually starting to believe we might get away with this. “They look big, but not as big as Paul, and I think we’ll be okay. There’s two of us, don’t forget. And you must have some kind of non-lethal weaponry here? Pepper spray, rubber bullets?”

“And how exactly are you going to get them out?” asked Straub, angry and uncertain … but I thought she was considering it.

“We can get
one
man through the gaps between us, just not a whole military unit. Believe me, Brigadier, the last thing I want is to go into that house,” I lied, really pushing my luck but thinking it was necessary. “I’ve already got my money and frankly I’d rather be on a beach somewhere than dealing with half-naked crazies. I’m trying to be a real reporter and not the flavour of the month, but if you want this problem solved with the target alive or without losing half of your men, this is the only way.”

Straub stared at us for a moment, and raised her walkie to her mouth.

“Do we have an ID on the resident yet, over?” she said.

When the voice came back over the speaker, and I knew we’d taken another step towards getting inside.

“Williams, Henry P. Aged seventy-three, husband to Williams, Mildred R., deceased. Over.”

Straub spoke into the walkie, this time whilst still looking at us.

“Stand by. Over and out.” She turned to face the APC, and to the ranking officer of some sort that David had been talking to earlier. David was nowhere to be seen, presumably inside the APC.

“Any signs of forced entry?” she called over, and was met with a shake of the head. She turned back to us, seemed about to say something, and then hesitated. She pointed at Paul. When she spoke again, she was clearly very angry, but I wondered how much of that was directed at herself for even listening to us. She shouldn’t have blamed herself, if so. She had no choice, really.

“I could get on the phone to Boldfield right now, and get him to correlate any radiation spikes we’ve detected since Caementum One’s return—and there have been a few, I’m not saying how many—but he is up to his fucking eyeballs in it right now, and it would take him time,” she snapped, her voice still low and deeply threatening, her finger pointed at Paul’s face like knife. “What I’m faced with is suiting you two up in stab armour—as I very much doubt that a British man in his seventies is packing heat—and sending you in to face a pensioner that you could take down even if you’re physically out of it. Plus, let’s face it, in terms of Caementum, or Caementum One at least, you two are the closest thing to experts we have, and you didn’t screw things up when you were unsupervised. We have rubber bullets, and heat imaging sights, and the target is in the front room of the house. So, as long as he stays in that room—that’s a big front window—we can even provide ranged backup, to an extent. On paper, it’s all there. The risks are pretty much zero, you could say.” She leant further forward, very close to us now, her lip curling with now barely concealed fury. “
If you’re telling me the truth,
” she added, spitting the words out through gritted teeth. A vein was throbbing in her forehead. “So believe me, once this is over, I
will
correlate the spikes. And I’ll know if you’re bullshitting me. So trust me—
trust me—
if you’re lying, take it back now, and I’ll let this pass. But this. Is. Your. Only. Chance.”

I will admit, I was the most terrified that I had been since this whole affair had begun over three months ago, and if Paul hadn’t have answered first I might have confessed then and there. I’ll say it. Why not? What do I have to lose? I might have done it ... I probably would have done.

“It’s the truth,” said Paul. His poker face was amazing. Straub turned to me.

“Mr Pointer? Andy?”

I heard myself reply, my voice seeming to come from someone else.

“It’s the truth. I just want to get out of here.”

She stared at us for a long time, and then, not taking her eyes off us, I was sure I heard a faint sigh. She then raised the walkie again.

“I need two stab vests, two helmets and two headsets up here right now.” She addressed us again. “Gentlemen, tell me exactly where he is in the room and I’ll tell you how this is going to go.”

***

I’ve timed this about perfectly, I think. The booze is taking care of business very, very nicely … excellent. Good job. I find this next part pretty hard to talk about, you see.

***

So that’s how Paul and I found ourselves covered in the gear that Straub had requested, standing behind a perimeter of our own; the men and vehicles forming a rough semicircle around the entrance, about fifteen away from it. Straub was going through the instructions for the fifth time, her voice loud and clear through the two-way headsets we were wearing.

In a nutshell, we were to find our way through the ‘gaps’, and then to use the glass cutter provided to pop the downstairs window. It was the kind that extended from the front of the house, with two smaller, angled side windows and a large centre pane. We were to go in through the side pane, whilst Straub’s men covered us via the centre. They had the target sighted through their heat vision scopes now; he was still sitting in his chair, unmoving. The warmth of his body indicated that he was still alive, a fact that I might have doubted otherwise. There was no way they could just be asleep with all the chaos going on outside, and surely they wouldn’t be sitting upright, out on display in relatively open space in the middle of the room. It was confusing; Patrick had been doing his terrified best to hide when we’d turned up. Why did this person appear to be waiting? It was more than confusing, in fact; it was frightening. But if Paul was going in, then I didn’t feel that I could let him go in alone.

But I’d make sure he went in first.

Once inside, we were to identify the target, and to inform him that he was being ‘evacuated’. If he didn’t comply, then we were to subdue him with the chloroform rags we’d been given. We asked why they just didn’t stun dart him through the window so that we could bring him out; apparently, given his age, the chemical risk of direct injection was just too high. To my concern, we’d also been given extendable batons as backup. Again, overkill, but they weren’t taking any chances … other than letting two untrained civilians inside. But again, what choice did they have? Plus, as Straub had said, on paper, it all looked reasonably foolproof.

David was stood a few feet back from the group, talking on his phone and occasionally scowling at us. I tried not to catch his eye as Straub finished.

“Keep chatter to a minimum, both with the target and between yourselves. Only communicate that which is absolutely necessary. Get in, get the target, get out. Understood?”

“Got it,” said Paul, as confidently as his shaking voice would let him sound. His symptoms were still bad, as were mine, and I heard the weakness in him and suddenly remembered the trouble that I’d had last time with getting in through a window. I realised Straub was looking at me, and nodded quickly. My mouth was dry and I didn’t want to speak.