Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (35 page)

The second krun moved into Johnny's narrow field of view, saying to his colleague,
“We've got him. We've got both of them. They're on their way off this dungpile of a planet. You're right—there's no need to keep this alive.”

Bentley raised his head slightly and stared silently at the krun who was pointing a weapon at him.

“Goodbye you wretched little dog. Time to …”

From nowhere an archway appeared in the storeroom behind Bentley and Clara stumbled through. “What are you doing here?” one of the krun asked. It was now or never. Johnny rushed forward and charged into the back of both the krun, who tripped over some cartons and fell headlong through the opening which folded away into nothingness. Clara sank to her knees.

Bentley's eyes smiled weakly at Johnny. Johnny looked at the blood on the floor. He looked at his sister, who was paler than he'd ever seen her. This rescue mission wasn't exactly going as planned. Gently, he stroked Bentley's big head. “You'll be OK,” he said. “We'll have you out in no time.” He scooped the Old English sheepdog up in his arms. Bentley winced, but didn't make a sound.

“Sorry,” said Clara. “I couldn't get away from the doctor.”

“It was perfect timing,” Johnny replied. “Can you get us to Louise?”

Clara nodded. She sat down cross-legged on the floor, closed her eyes and turned her palms upward toward the ceiling. The space in front of her started to disappear. One moment Johnny was looking at nothing at all. The next he could see Louise,
standing bleeding in front of the tank, and staring back at him, open-mouthed.

“What's happening?” Louise asked. “What's going on?”

Johnny stepped forward with Bentley in his arms, but before he could pass through the fold it closed up in front of him and was replaced by the storeroom wall instead. He turned round. Clara had collapsed on the floor in a pool of Bentley's blood. Johnny knelt down next to her and tapped her on her arm.

She came to, her blue eyes unfocused, and said, “I'm sorry—I couldn't hold it open any longer.”

“It's OK,” said Johnny. “I'll have to come back for Louise. Let's get you two out of here first.” Still holding Bentley, he struggled to his feet helping Clara up at the same time. She wobbled for a second, but looked as though she'd stay upright.

“I know a way out,” she said quietly, as though it was a great effort to speak. “Takes us to near the fence.”

“OK. After you,” said Johnny, and Clara led them out of the storeroom and into the main corridor. Bentley's eyes were shut and Johnny could feel his tunic getting soaked in the dog's warm blood.

“Down here … I think,” said Clara, turning off in a new direction. “Not much further.”

Johnny followed behind, with Bentley getting heavier and heavier in his arms. He wished the Diaquant was there to magically lighten the load. He turned around. There didn't seem to be any krun coming after them just yet.

They reached another corridor—much wider than any of the others. “This is it,” said Clara. “There … at the end. That's the way out.” She was pointing to a ramp that led upward to a set of double doors. Seeing the escape route seemed to give them both renewed energy. Clara ran toward the ramp with Johnny, carrying Bentley, close behind. Clara reached the top first and pushed down on a metal bar to open the doors. Sunlight
streamed into the corridor from outside, accompanied by an ear-splitting alarm. Johnny followed Clara out into the open air. They were close to the fence.

“Johnny … Clara. Thank goodness. I was so worried,” came Alf's voice inside his ear, above the sound of Bentley barking.

“Alf—where are you?” Johnny asked, maneuvering his mouth as close to his wristcom as he could while he looked round wildly for the shuttle. It was nowhere to be seen. Louise's red setter, Rusty, was tearing across the grass toward them.

“I am forty-eight meters away on the other side of the fence,” Alf replied.

“Come and get us,” said Johnny. Clara had sunk to her knees and Johnny felt he wanted to do the same. His arms were screaming at him to put Bentley down. Still there was no sign of Alf, but then the air shimmered nearby and from nowhere a black door opened in seemingly empty space. A London taxi materialized on the grass next to them.

“Oh my goodness, Master Johnny,” said Alf. “Are you hurt?”

Johnny shook his head. “It's Bentley,” he said. “He looks really bad.” Johnny lifted his old friend onto the back seat, climbing in after him, while Clara got into the front with Alf. “Hang on, Alf,” shouted Johnny, as he held the rear door open for Rusty to leap inside at full pelt. The red setter landed on top of Johnny's head before bouncing off onto the floor.

The door snapped shut. “Shields on,” said Alf, and as the craft rose into the air, the floor beneath them and everything else inside disappeared from view. Johnny knew exactly where Bentley's head was and kept stroking it as gently as he could. Rusty was barking madly. Alf's disembodied voice continued, “I say we get you out of here—and not a moment too soon.”

Johnny looked around. A few krun had emerged from the Proteus Institute building and were scanning the grounds. “We can't go, Alf,” said Johnny. “We can't leave Louise.”

“I do believe Miss Clara is unconscious,” said Alf. “I do not see how we can free Louise without her.”

The shuttle swung round above the fence. “No, Alf,” said Johnny. “We've got to go back. See the doors we came out of? You can take the shuttle through there.”

“If you say so. I do hate to think what Sol's probability of success would be,” said Alf.

“Computing … 8.589 869 056%,” came Sol's voice into the cabin.

Johnny smiled. Lose the decimal point and it was a perfect number.

“Hang on then,” shouted Alf, and the invisible craft dived toward the ground, touching down and speeding unseen through the double doors and into the corridor they'd just escaped from. Two krun were running toward them. “Nothing I can do,” said Alf, who kept the Jubilee moving forward, sending the aliens flying out of the way.

“Turn right here,” said Johnny, hoping he could remember the way properly.

“It will be tight,” said Alf, and sparks flew from Johnny's left where the invisible shuttle must be scraping along the wall.

“Now left,” said Johnny. They passed the storeroom where they'd found Bentley. “Left again … then right here.” This was it—definitely the right place. As Alf piloted them along the corridor sparks flew past on both sides of Johnny. Up ahead of them was a set of wrought-iron steps that led up into the main building. They were the ones Clara and he had climbed before, on their way to the space elevator. Alf would somehow have to fly them out backward.

“Stop by the door on the left,” said Johnny.

“We cannot go further anyway,” said Alf. “Oh my goodness—we are stuck. Whatever are we going to do?”

Johnny thought it, and the left door sprang open, forcing its
way through the half-glass door that led into the room beyond. The insides of the Jubilee came into view again—the back seat was swimming in blood. Johnny climbed over Bentley and Rusty and stepped out through the splintered wooden remains and into the room with all the tanks where they'd hidden from the krun with Louise. Only now it was empty, except for a single familiar figure facing him.

“Nice of you to join us, Johnny.”

“Hello, bugface,” said Johnny to the man in the suit. “I thought you were dead.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I am very much alive. I am one of nine in my birthing egg. And, of course, each is expendable.” Stevens pointed his weapon at Johnny's chest.

“What have you done with the tanks? Where's Louise?”

“I don't think you're in any position to be asking questions,” said the krun. “All the exits are sealed. You really shouldn't have come back. Yet I am intrigued—it's so soon since we thought you'd disappeared into orbit and left us forever.”

Johnny heard a low growl behind him. “Seems I'm as hard to get rid of as you are,” he said to the suited figure.

“Oh I don't think so,” said Stevens. He walked calmly toward Johnny and pressed his weapon into the five gold stars emblazoned across the Melanian tunic.

Johnny looked into Stevens's ice-cold eyes. The krun didn't blink, but neither did he. And then, as Johnny felt something brush past his legs, the look on the alien's face changed. Rusty had fixed her teeth onto the krun's leg and Stevens fell to the floor screaming with pain. A blast of green light struck the ceiling, bringing part of it crashing down before Johnny kicked the weapon out of the alien's hand.

“Master Johnny—you must get back in the shuttle,” shouted Alf from out in the corridor.

Johnny turned and ran to the Jubilee. As he reached the open
door, he halted and shouted, “Rusty—here … now!” The dog took one final bite out of Stevens's thigh and scampered back to the doorway, but stopped, uncertain about climbing inside. As the red setter whimpered and began to back away, Johnny reached down, grabbed her collar and hoisted her over Bentley and onto the back seat.

Stevens forced a laugh from the floor of the empty room. “Be my guest—it won't do you any good. You see you're in what I would call a tight spot. There's no way forward or backward.”

Johnny followed Rusty into the Jubilee but he knew Stevens was right—they were wedged solidly between the walls of the corridor. Yet when the door to the shuttle swung shut behind him, the craft lurched forward. For a fraction of a second he saw Stevens's face screwed up in fury. Johnny turned, expecting to watch them crash into the metal staircase in front, only to find himself staring into a piece of bright blue sky. Alf drove through the arch which closed quickly behind them. Clara turned around and smiled weakly, before everything dematerialized. Rusty started barking frantically and Johnny, stroking Bentley's head, once again felt as though he was a disembodied pair of eyes flying over the English countryside.

Johnny was sitting in sickbay, positioned between the two beds where Clara and Bentley lay, both with their eyes shut. Clara would be fine. In fact she hadn't seen the need to be there at all, but after the exertion of umpteen folds, Alf wasn't going to take no for an answer. Johnny had carried Bentley up there himself and was still wearing the same bloodstained top as he stroked his friend's furry coat and waited anxiously for signs of an improvement. And all the time he couldn't stop thinking about Louise, who would never have gone to the Proteus Institute without him and was now the krun's prisoner.

The door slid open and in walked Alf. “Master Johnny,” he said as he walked across the room, twirling his bowler hat very quickly between his fingers. “You did … you said to speak up if I knew … if I might possibly know …”

“What is it, Alf?”

Clara opened her eyes and turned onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow so she could see what was going on.

“Miss Clara—you are supposed to be resting.”

“Alf—spit it out,” said Johnny.

“It is the krun,” Alf replied. “Now they know you are back on Terra they will be sure you will try to rescue your friend.” Johnny nodded. He knew he had no choice. “I believe,” Alf continued, looking at the sickbay floor, “they will also be expecting you to go looking for your father.”

“But Dad's in prison,” said Johnny. “He's nothing to do with the krun.” Even as the words left his mouth, Johnny realized how stupid they sounded.

“Believe me,” said Alf. “If the Diaquant was interested in your father, then the krun are sure to be.”

Johnny nodded again. “You're right—thanks.” Alf looked up, smiling, and replaced the hat on top of his head.

“But how do we find either of them?” Clara asked. “They could be anywhere?”

“I found you, didn't I?” said Johnny. “I'll do it the same way.” It seemed forever since Johnny had spoken to the computer in Halader House. He jumped to his feet, said, “I've just got to get something,” and hurried out through the swishing sickbay door, down through the lifts and into his quarters. His bloodstained clothes were horribly cold and clammy so he changed into jeans and a T-shirt, and then grabbed the games console which he'd come for. He ran out of the doors and took an antigrav lift up to the bridge.

“Hi, Sol,” he said, as he stepped out and walked forward toward the main viewscreen.

“Hello, Johnny,” Sol replied.

“I want you to meet a friend of mine,” said Johnny, fiddling with the rather battered handheld. “Say hello to Kovac.”

“I don't understand, Johnny,” said Sol. “Who is Kovac?”

“He's a computer. I built him. Well, he's an operating system really.”

“And you want
me
to talk to
him
?”

“Look—I know he's not like you. He's not alive and he's dead basic and all that, but he is really useful.” From Sol's silence Johnny gathered she wasn't convinced. He tried again. “I programmed him to find patterns … signals. He can help us find my dad—and Louise.”

“Show me,” said Sol.

Johnny turned to the device in his hand. “Kovac—begin search. Michael Mackintosh, father of Jonathan Mackintosh. Convicted for the murder of Nicholas Mackintosh.”

Sol must have patched into the signal from Johnny's console as the results of the search that scrolled across the miniature display were replicated on the giant screen in front of him. There was a lot of it—the case had attracted a great deal of press attention at the time.

“Kovac—search for current location, Michael Mackintosh.”

Sol cut in. “Congratulations, Johnny—examining Kovac's code it is indeed a remarkable, if inanimate, creation. However, the current search will take an estimated 3 days 3 hours 55 minutes 0.0336 seconds, with no guarantee of success. Might I suggest an upgrade?”