Bionic Agent (22 page)

“He wouldn’t suffer if he died. And I want him to suffer.”

“But you might change your mind when you get up close. I can’t risk what you’d do. I have to bear in mind that, in a way, you’re fitted with a lethal weapon.”

That was what Melissa Pink had called his robotic arm. But Jordan looked down at his sagging sleeve. “I’m not at the moment.”

Angel hesitated. “I suppose not.”

“I’ve got to hear him admit what he’s done.”

“Will it really help – or just bring everything back?”

“It’ll help.”

Angel sighed and then took two deep breaths. “Well, I understand he’s conscious now. If you go before your arm gets refitted...”

“Thanks.”

“I want you to cool off for the rest of the day. I’ll tell his police guard you’re on your way tomorrow morning. They’ll be under orders to stay outside, watching your
every move.”

“All right.” Jordan’s shrug was awkward and lopsided. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything bad.”

Norman Lightfoot was a very special patient. He had his own private room in the hospital. Two police officers were stationed permanently outside. One faced the corridor. One
watched him through the glass. Both were armed. In a way, the hospital room was a prison cell, but its occupant was not capable of escaping or going anywhere.

Jordan had worked out for himself why the battered prisoner was under guard for twenty-four hours a day. If anyone found out who he was and what he’d done, the police might have to protect
him from people bent on revenge. Norman Lightfoot would not be short of enemies. His police guards, like Angel, might even mistake Jordan for someone who wanted to take the law into his own
hands.

But the law wasn’t on Jordan’s mind.

He walked slowly up to the bed and looked down on the feeble creature lying in it. Lightfoot wasn’t like a rugby player any more. He looked broken.

In a way, Jordan had got what he wished for. He always wanted the bomber to go through the same pain and suffering as he had. Right now, Norman Lightfoot looked as hurt as Ben Smith had
been.

His face was a curious purple colour. There were tubes everywhere. Some dripped liquids in, some took liquids away. Monitors beeped and hummed. The sound of suspended life. A fragile life,
supported by machine and medicine. There was a strange smell of disinfectant and decay.

As Jordan watched in silence, Norman’s eyes opened. They were dull like the eyes of a zombie in a horror film.

“Do you recognize me?” Jordan asked.

Lightfoot’s head moved just a little. It was a faint nod.

“I never got to tell you that you destroyed my family. All dead. And you nearly killed me.”

The eyes closed and then opened again. There was hurt in them, but Jordan wasn’t sure if Lightfoot was feeling physical pain or the pain of remorse.

“I know you did it. The estuary explosion. There’s forensic evidence. I need to hear you admit it.”

There was no resistance left in this helpless stranded creature. He made the same movement again and his lips parted. A wispy voice said, “It was me. Yes.”

Jordan shivered. “I know why you did it. To get your revenge on the company, the ship, the new captain and the crew.”

The craggy head shifted again, acknowledging Jordan’s words.

“It was nothing to do with me or my family. It was nothing to do with most of the people you killed. Why take it out on so many?”

“I didn’t mean to...”

“You were just going for
Ocean Courage
?”

Tears formed in those dead eyes. He mumbled, “I didn’t realize how big... I’m sorry.”

So, he’d miscalculated. He wasn’t quite the monster he could have been, but Jordan was still appalled. “There were thirty people on that ship.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Do you think saying sorry makes things okay?”

His head rocked slightly from side to side.

“I could smash all this gear and pull the tubes out in a couple of seconds. I’m glad I’d have to use my real arm. It’d feel good to do it with flesh and blood. The police
and doctors would rush in, but I don’t know if they’d be quick enough to save you. Let’s face it. A lot of people would beg me to do it while I’ve got the chance.
Don’t you think I’ve got every right?”

“Yes,” he croaked. The word was barely audible but Jordan could hear without leaning close to his mouth.

Jordan shook his head. “No chance. I’m not giving you an easy way out. And I hope no one else does.” He hesitated and then said, “But what about you? Why did you set off
the bomb on
Windsong
?”

“I was...I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You weren’t trying to kill yourself?”

“No.”

“Good,” said Jordan. “You’ll get better. You’ll learn to walk again. You’ll have bad days. You’ll hurt like hell, but not as much as the people whose
lives you ruined by murdering their family and friends. You’ll know how much they hate you, though. You’ll feel their disgust. And they’ll never forgive you. Never. You’ll
go to prison for the rest of your life.” Determined to control his temper, Jordan gazed steadily into Norman Lightfoot’s face. “You know what? I almost feel sorry for
you.”

His mission over, Jordan turned and left the room.

Jordan’s robotic arm had been refitted. He had become whole again, yet in many ways he was still incomplete. His right hand could once more pick up a spider without
killing it or smash violently through a door panel but, from shoulder to fingertip, it wasn’t really his arm. He was living in the Highgate house, but it didn’t really feel like home.
He was safely among Angel and the other agents, but they were no substitute for Amy and his family.

Angel said to him, “You’ve done well. Better than I had any right to expect. I want you to be happy in Unit Red. So, now your arm’s back in action, I’ve got something and
someone to show you.”

“Oh?”

“Here’s your new ID.”

At first glance, the small rectangle of plastic looked the same as the one he already had. Puzzled, Jordan asked, “What’s different about it?”

“You’ve had a change of birthday. Same day, different year. You’re seventeen.”

Then it dawned on him. It was something that Winter had said to him when they’d first set out for Lower Stoke in her Audi. It seemed a long time ago.

Angel led the way down the stairs to the back of the house that faced Swain’s Lane. At ground-level, there was a secure door. Once Angel had entered the code, he stood to one side and
said, “After you.”

Jordan reached out with his reconditioned right arm. Controlling the power so he didn’t break the handle, he pulled the door open. What he saw inside wasn’t simply a garage. It was a
large area that could house three cars. Part of it was an engineering workshop. Ramps, computers, tyres, car parts, welding equipment, all sorts of contraptions. And two engineers. One of them had
her back towards him but her head and shoulders were vaguely familiar. When Jordan and Angel entered and the door closed behind them, she turned round.

Open-mouthed, Jordan gasped.

“Hello, Jordan,” she said. “Good to see you again.”

Jordan was staring in disbelief at the missing firefighter and the woman who had saved his life. Unit Red had not killed her or exiled her in a foreign country. “You’re
Deborah...”

“She’s our newest recruit,” Angel said, interrupting. “And you’re wrong about her name. She’s Kate Stelfox. In a Unit Red sort of way.”

Kate smiled at Jordan. “You and me, we’ve got something in common.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve both got to leave a life behind.”

“Why you?”

“Because I know too much about you. I had a choice. I could disappear to another country or I could join the club.” She shrugged. “Here I am.”

With a wry expression, Jordan nodded.

“Not much point dwelling on the past,” she said. “Might as well enjoy what’s in front of us.”

Jordan knew it was true. He’d already got used to leaving Ben Smith behind, but it was hard to let Amy and his family go. Right now, one of his mum’s mottos came to his mind.
Life
isn’t a rehearsal so make the most of what you’ve got
. He muttered, “I guess so.”

Wiping her hands on a rag, Kate added, “But you haven’t come down to see me. You’ve come to see that.” She pointed towards the nearest car. “It’s a modified
Jaguar. A much modified Jaguar. An awesome piece of work.”

Jordan stared at Kate, Angel and the sports car in turn.

Angel said, “Well, you’ve got to get around somehow. And, given what’s happened, I thought it’d be better to put a bit of distance between you and Winter. Kate’s
your new handler. And driving instructor.”

“I’ll just get out of these overalls,” she said, “and we can go for a spin. Okay?”

Jordan nodded eagerly. “More than okay.”

“We’ll have to stop somewhere and buy L-plates.” Kate paused and added, “I feel like a Unit Red learner as well.”

Jordan wasn’t really listening. He ran his left hand along the roof of the Jaguar. It felt solid and sleek. It wasn’t a dream. It was as real as his strange new life in Unit Red.

As one of Angel’s agents, Jordan had immense power and privilege, but he would also face immense danger and difficulty. He accepted it, though, because there was no other way forward. He
accepted that he was part-human, part-machine because there was no tolerable alternative. He also accepted that there would be more enhancements to come. He might even look forward to them.

“Can I get in?”

“Sure,” Angel replied. “Try out the driver’s seat.”

Jordan slipped inside and took a deep breath. The car smelled of new leather. It also oozed style and energy. He put his feet on the pedals and his hands on the steering wheel – and he
smiled.

In August 1944, an American ship carrying a large supply of bombs arrived in Sheerness, near London, to help with the war effort. Unfortunately, strong winds pushed the SS
Richard Montgomery
onto a sandbank in the River Thames where it broke its back. It is still there today, two-and-a-half kilometres from Sheerness and eight kilometres from Southend, with a
cargo of 1400 tonnes of explosives. The wreck lies in about 15 metres of water, partly buried in silt. Successive British governments have not dared to risk moving it or do anything about it
because it is disintegrating and some of the explosives are dangerously unstable. If one bomb exploded, it would set off the rest and the resulting blast would be one of the world’s biggest
non-nuclear explosions.

The bombs could be triggered if another ship rammed the wreck; a rusted piece of the remains collapsed onto the cargo; the tide pushed one bomb against another; a terrorist or criminal
deliberately disturbed the shipment, or even if one of the fused bombs reacted spontaneously. If it happened, a column of water about 300 metres in diameter would be blown three kilometres into the
sky. The blast would cause widespread damage in the area of the Thames Estuary, just sixty kilometres from central London. The towns of Sheerness and Southend and nearby oil and gas refineries
would suffer the most. Forty thousand people would be affected. Among them, there would be some injuries and deaths.

When I want to come up with a new idea for a story, I usually look to science because scientists are always discovering and creating new things. Some exciting advances are
bound to be just around the corner. For a few years, I have been keeping an eye on the coming bionic age. There are so many new developments I’m fascinated by: brain implants that give vision
to the blind and hearing to the deaf, robotic limbs controlled entirely by the mind, touch-sensitive skin for artificial hands, designer DNA, power-enhancing drugs, developing replacement body
parts through stem cells, terahertz technology, a bat-like echolocation device to help the blind, generating electricity from body movement, smart clothing, and drugs to wipe painful memories.
It’s clear that human re-engineering is under way.

Some of these body enhancements are already hitting the news. When soldiers return from war zones with dreadful injuries – often missing a limb after an encounter with a bomb – their
medical treatment can grab the headlines. In writing the Jordan Stryker thriller series, I’ve been inspired not only by what modern medicine and technology can do for people, but also by
their determination to cope.

I have seen today’s artificial arms in action. By the power of thought alone, they can hold food, stir tea and pick up a small key. Whilst this cutting-edge science enables the disabled,
it does not allow them to bust through doors like Jordan does with his bionic arm. In creating Jordan Stryker, I have not limited myself to today’s exact medical technology. I have allowed
myself to imagine where the science of body enhancement might take us in the next twenty years or so. By then, there will be some amazing developments. I’ve simply allowed Jordan to have the
technology right now. I’ve also given him some of the grit shown by real-life victims of serious injury.

I haven’t given Jordan the fantastic powers of a superhero. That would have been interesting and exciting, but not what I wanted to write about. If Jordan walks up a wall (and he might in
a future book), it’s because super-grip shoes are on the way to becoming practical, not because he’s transforming into a superhero.

At least one expert thinks the first bionic eyes will be developed by 2020. Of all Jordan’s abilities, I have peered into the future most with his artificial eyesight. I suspect that the
power and range of his fictional vision will not become reality for many years.

One scientist is already talking about a time when people will merge with machines. This would be called the singularity. I don’t know if that will happen and, if so, I wonder if it is to
be welcomed or feared. If a human being and a machine become a single thing at some point, the hybrid will probably be really smart and live for ever. This seems too fanciful for Jordan, but I
wouldn’t be surprised if a character in the second book regards Jordan as a step on the way to this awesome future.