Bionic Agent (13 page)

“Me? Help you? What is this?”

“I’m trying to find out who attacked you. Did you see him?”

Vinnie took a deep breath before he answered. “Yes, I saw him. Just a flash, but I won’t forget.”

“Can you look at a photo and tell me if it’s him?”

“Yes. But...”

“What?”

“I know who did it.”

Puzzled, Jordan asked, “Who?”

“Well, I owe money...”

“Who to?”

“He calls himself
EasyCash
. He sent one of his men. When I couldn’t pay...” He touched the ragged parts of his face. “It’s a reminder to keep up the
payments.”

Jordan grimaced. “Did you report it to the police?”

“What’s the point? And I don’t want them looking into where my money comes from – or how I spend it.” He glanced at Winter and asked, “You’re not
police, are you?”

Winter laughed and shook her head.

Looking back at Jordan, Vinnie said, “Did he do your arm in as well? Is that why you’re after him?”

“I’d like to know who did this to me. More than that. I need to know.” He turned towards Winter and she held out the photo of Salam Bool.

Immediately, Vinnie nodded.

“Sure?”

“Certain.”

It didn’t make sense to Jordan. Vinnie and Mr. Bool should have been on the same side. They both owed money to
EasyCash OnLine
. “Thanks,” he said. “That’s
all I need.”

“What’s his name?”

“Salam Bool. He’s a teacher. Or was. We’re pretty sure he died in the Thames explosion a year back, straight after he saw you.”

“Good.”

“At least he can’t do it to anyone else. But...”

“What?”

“One thing’s puzzling me. He owed
EasyCash
a lot of money as well.”

Vinnie looked faintly surprised, but then smiled and nodded. “When you’re in debt and the devil’s after you, you’ll agree to anything.”

“What? You mean...”

“There’s more than one way to pay it back. He couldn’t cough up enough so I bet he agreed to extract money from other people in the same boat – like me.”

Jordan was horrified that Vinnie almost seemed to accept that this was the way the world worked. Jordan also wondered how many other clients had ended up in hospital because of Salam Bool.

If Mr. Bool had become a vicious debt collector, it explained why he’d destroyed the messages on his computer and hunted down his missing mobile. They could have given him away. And the
final recording on his home phone made sense.
“I hear you’ve done the job. I’ll be in touch.”
It was probably
EasyCash
acknowledging the success of Mr.
Bool’s latest – and last – contract. Perhaps Ed Hathaway had unknowingly done a favour to everyone who got into trouble with the loan company.

Back in the car, Winter said, “Good work. Salam Bool isn’t one of our suspects any more. Ed Hathaway gave him an alibi at Hoo Marina. You can’t blow anything
up when you’re unconscious or dead. And all the suspicious stuff – like the landline message and his missing mobile – was about debts, not bombs.”

Angel’s urgent voice sounded above the hum of the engine, making Jordan jump. “Winter. There’s a situation brewing. I want you to turn round and head for Hunstanton.”

Winter did not question her chief’s order for a moment. She tugged on the steering wheel and executed a perfect U-turn at speed. Jordan was thrown sideways in his seat, the tyres
screeched, a horn sounded somewhere, and Winter accelerated in the opposite direction. The engine’s hum became a roar as the Audi hurtled north-east.

“On the way,” she said calmly into the hands-free phone. “You’d better brief us.”

“There’s a group of political extremists who’ve smashed up a few banks here in London, brought down some government websites, scrawled slogans across the
city, and even kidnapped a businessman for a while,” Angel explained. “I’ve got an undercover agent in there trying to find out if they were responsible for the estuary bomb as
well. For the purposes of the mission, he’s called Tom Flynn. I know
where
he is. Hunstanton. His GPS chip tells me he’s stationary at a supermarket on the edge of the town, but
he missed his last two contact times. That means something’s wrong. I hope for his sake they haven’t worked out who he really is.”

“Before he went quiet,” Winter said, “what did he find out?”

“Nothing about the estuary bomb, but he said the group’s planning a big splash. They’re bent on attacking a symbol of capitalism and getting their cause on the news. I
don’t need to tell you that could mean a hit on a supermarket. Find out what’s going on, Winter.”

Eyes fixed on the road as she overtook a long line of cars, she replied, “Okay.”

Winter spun the wheel, taking the sharp bend past the petrol station and up into the car park. It was large and mostly empty. Bringing the car to a halt at the front of the
supermarket, Winter reported, “We’ve arrived. Is Tom still somewhere here?”

“Yes,” Angel’s voice replied from the speaker. “He hasn’t moved.”

“Worrying.”

“Take care.”

Winter undid her safety belt. “I’m going into the shop to look around,” she said to Jordan. “You stay here in contact with Angel. Watch out for anything unusual.”
Without giving him time to reply, she got out, slammed the door, and strode to the entrance.

As soon as she disappeared inside, everything became still and quiet. The sky was dull and thick with cloud. Over the road, there was another parking area, caravans and houses. Through the
drizzle, Jordan could also see a large carousel and the tops of funfair rides. They weren’t moving, though. They seemed to be closed. Beyond them was the grey sea. An elderly couple in heavy
coats emerged from the supermarket and shuffled towards some steps that led up into a housing estate. Two cars drove past the shop and out of town.

A minute passed. Nothing happened. This part of the coastal town appeared to be dead.

Then Angel’s voice came out of the phone speaker. “He’s moving! Not fast. Just a few metres away from the building.”

Suddenly alert, Jordan looked all around. There was no sign of movement.

“He’s edging towards the road.”

Jordan was puzzled. “But nothing’s...” He stopped when he spotted the cab of a truck pulling out of the delivery area at the back of the supermarket. “Hang on. It’s
a lorry!” he said. There was no sign of Winter so he made a decision. “I’m going after it!”

As he shut the car door, Angel was saying something through the secure phone but Jordan didn’t listen. He sprinted along the pavement beside the shop.

Ahead of him, the lorry eased out of the goods entrance and turned right. It was heading away from him, towards the centre of Hunstanton. Jordan was too late to see the driver or to clamber up
the passenger’s side. The truck gathered speed. Without Winter’s help, he had only two options. He could watch it go or he could try and do something about it.

He would risk anything if it helped him solve his first case. Putting on a burst of speed, he ran up to its rear end and jumped onto the back door. Clinging onto a damp handle, he stood on its
footplate. The lorry went along the straight road for a short distance, slowed and then forked left. Jordan gripped tighter as it swayed round the corner.

The truck juddered as it went over bumps and drain covers in the road. It seemed to be trying to shake him off. Jordan had no idea how long he would have to hang onto the lorry’s tailgate.
It could be hours. He decided he had to get inside. Grasping the locked handle tightly with his left hand, he smashed his right fist through the thin metal door. Peeling back the aluminium sheet
with his artificial arm, he made a hole big enough to edge through.

Running parallel to the beach, the lorry swerved round a parked car and Jordan’s feet slipped off their wet and risky perch. He let out an instinctive scream. He was about to fall heavily
into the road when his right hand closed around the torn metal. Hanging from the back of the truck, he heaved himself awkwardly upwards. The strong wind coming off the sea buffeted him. Manoeuvring
his top half in through the hole, he pitched forward. The rough edge of the metal was as sharp as an opened tin can. It cut painfully into his skin as his waist and legs followed the rest of him
through the gap.

He landed head first on the floor of the trailer and rolled over. His legs slammed against a stack of cardboard boxes. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet, lurching with the lorry’s
uneven movement. The trailer wasn’t full. It must have delivered most of its load. Some boxes were still strapped to the struts around its sides and there were a few scattered items but there
was a lot of space. Inside, the air smelled of everything. He detected fish, tobacco, soaps, vegetables, lots more supermarket goods, and the seaside smell of seaweed. He heard the wind pummelling
the side of the truck, the engine growling and the screams of seagulls. In the gloom, Jordan’s vision system picked out a warm body at the far end, near the cab. His legs cut and stinging, he
tottered towards it.

The shape was a man, silenced by duct tape across his mouth. He was lying down, tied with rope to one of the upright bars, just like one of the cardboard boxes.

Jordan kneeled beside him and ripped the tape away from his mouth. “Are you Tom Flynn?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Trying to undo the rope, Jordan replied, “Angel sent me.”

“He’s going to drive the lorry over the cliff!” Tom cried.

“What?”

“It’s a protestor driving it. He’ll jump out at the last second. We’ll go over.”

Fumbling with the rope, Jordan felt the truck braking.

Tom shouted, “Quick! We’ve only got a few seconds. They talked about going over this side of the old lighthouse. I tried to contact Angel but they rumbled me.”

Jordan freed the last knot and yanked the rope away from his fellow agent.

They both got up and at once fell over. The sudden change of direction told them that the lorry had veered left and jumped the kerb. The vibration meant that the truck had begun to bounce across
the grass towards the sheer drop over the cliff edge.

“Come on!” Jordan yelled, jumping up again and staggering down the length of the trailer to the hole at the back.

The engine snarled louder and louder. The driver was giving it full throttle to crash through the wire fence and plummet down onto the stony beach. There was a crunch as the cab barged aside a
park bench.

Jordan grabbed Tom Flynn and, without wasting a second, pushed him head first out of the gap. At the same time, there was a thump and a jerk as the truck flattened two wooden fence-posts. The
wires wrapped themselves around the cab but didn’t stop it. The engine revved and the trailer tilted. The rear end leaped off the ground.

Jordan threw himself at the hole in the door, squeezed through, rolled down the outside and then fell through the air. He landed with a thud on the weeds right at the edge of the cliff and
grabbed at a bush to steady himself.

The nervous driver had misjudged his own leap from the cab. He’d got out in time but rolled to the lip of the cliff. Unable to stop himself going over, he was now hanging on to the
crumbling edge by his fingertips as the truck plunged down spectacularly, scattering the seagulls nesting on the cliff face.

The cab struck first. With a huge bang, it crumpled against the slabs of fallen rock below. The trailer landed on top of it and then fell sideways until it lay on the stones and sand like a
shipwreck. Then the whole vehicle caught fire.

Flames shot up the white and red layers of rock. They singed the driver’s clothes and skin. Shrieking in agony, he lost his grip on the lip of the cliff.

On impulse, Jordan thrust out his bionic arm and grabbed the man’s left wrist. The driver’s weight jolted Jordan forwards but he didn’t topple over. He held on tightly.

Tom had been injured in the fall but he stumbled towards Jordan and lay across his blood-stained jeans, pinning his legs down and making sure he didn’t tumble over the edge. He
couldn’t do much more.

Winter’s white Audi slithered across the grass, just missed the remains of the stone arch and screeched to a halt. Winter flung the door open and rushed to the scene of the accident.
Seeing both Jordan and Tom Flynn, she breathed a sigh of relief. Leaning over the edge, she looked down at the dangling driver and said, “What have we here?”

“Help!” he cried.

Winter smiled. “Jordan’s only fourteen, you know.”

“What?”

“He’s strong but, when you’re fourteen, you get tired. You can’t expect him to hold you very long.”

The activist spluttered and yelped like a wounded creature.

She kneeled down to get close to him. “Tell me. Did you or your group have anything to do with the Thames Estuary explosion?”

“No!” he shouted. “Get me up!”

“Why should we? What are you offering in return?”

“Please!”

Winter looked at Jordan. “Are you getting tired?”

There was something much worse than being tired. He was worried that his arm might be wrenched from its fitting to his shoulder. And his legs had gone numb. But he played her game anyway.
“Very.”

Winter looked down at the terrified man. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll check with my boss if I can do a deal with you. Hang on there a minute.” She took out her phone,
giggled and said, “Sorry about the pun.” She hit a few buttons and then turned away, waiting for a response.

Jordan guessed that she was only pretending.

She spoke as if updating a superior on the situation and then let out a series of responses. “Yes.” “Yes.” “That’s right.” “Okay.”
“I’ve got your go-ahead, then.” “Good.”

Winter squatted down again at the edge of the cliff. “Right,” she said. “I can offer you a deal. If your group bombed the wreck in the Thames, you can shop the people who
actually did it, and walk away free yourself. Unless Jordan drops you, of course.”

“But we didn’t do it! Help me.” Squirming, his legs scraped against the cliff face and sent stones cascading down to the beach below.

Along with the smell of smoke, Jordan had become aware of the nearby whiff of urine. He shifted his position and his grasp of the driver’s wrist slipped a little. He gripped more
firmly.