Reaper's Legacy: Book Two (Toxic City) (16 page)

Fleeter accompanied Reaper, and Sparky and Jenna were with Jack, as always. Other small groups of Superiors and Irregulars were moving towards their rendezvous point three miles to the east, from where their
assault on the container park would commence. They hoped to leave it to the very last moment before giving away their presence.

Jack had reluctantly admitted that it was Reaper's people who should lead the assault. They were the ones with the most disruptive, destructive powers, and there was no telling how long it would take to find the relevant containers.

“I told you before, he interests me.” Reaper and Jack were in the lead, but it could not be said that they walked together. Even if they were shoulder to shoulder, Reaper's dismissive aura would have meant he walked alone.

“It seems like a strange sort of mercy to me,” Jack said.

“It's not mercy. I have none for Choppers, and less so for the monster who leads them.”

“They why? You had him kneeling before you, defenceless. Yet you let him live, and allowed him to pursue me and my friends.”

“I knew he'd never catch you,” Reaper said.

“What?”

Reaper glanced over at Jack, and a ghost of something passed from his face, leaving only his brutal expression behind.
What the hell was that?
Jack thought.
It sounded for a moment like he cared
.

“Miller is a man obsessed,” Reaper said. “London is his playground, and Irregulars are his test subjects. You know all that. He yearns to get his hands on Superiors, too. See how different
we
are.” Reaper tapped his head.

“He's never caught one of yours?”

“Some. They haven't been seen since.”

“Probably dead, then,” Jack said coldly.

Reaper shrugged as if unconcerned. “As to why I left him alive? London is much more my playground than his. And he is one of my toys. Get rid of Miller, and things around here won't be as…exciting.”

“You mean that,” Jack said. “You really mean it.” Reaper walked on ahead and Fleeter followed, walking close to the tall man in black. She touched his arm, slid her hand down, and for the briefest moment they entwined fingers. Then Reaper shook her off, and Fleeter hung back to let him walk ahead.

Jack looked away. That was his father, with another woman. A deep sadness engulfed him, for his mother and Emily, and also because he was not surprised. Reaper projected himself as a heartless, superior man, but he drank whiskey like water, and now it appeared he and Fleeter might be an item. The more Jack saw brief flashes of his father in Reaper's expression and demeanour, the greater the distance seemed between them.

“What about this time?” Jack asked. “Will you kill him now?”

“That's down to Miller,” Reaper said without turning around. “It always is.”

They walked on, following the course of the Thames. Fleeter flipped now and then to scout their way ahead, and once she told them to change direction and divert around the charred remains of a school. She did not say why, and Jack and his friends did not ask.

Sparky and Jenna walked close to Jack, hand in hand. Their togetherness pleased him, but also made him feel more alone. Jenna could smile and Sparky could give him the finger, but they all knew that things could never be the same again.

Close to East India Dock Road, Reaper called a halt. They entered a hotel through its smashed front door and waited in the reception area while Fleeter did her thing. For several minutes Reaper sat separate from Jack and his two best friends, barely acknowledging their presence. Sparky perused the hotel's guest book, and even when he became quietly excited when he found a rock star's name, Reaper did not react.

Jack sat back in a comfortable chair and closed his eyes. His
father was as much an enigma to him now as he was when he'd first clapped eyes on Reaper. Perhaps somewhere deep down he was helping because of Emily and his wife. But perhaps not. If he was not prepared to open up and reveal which, then Jack would have to step away. He'd done all he could to get his father back.

A
clap!
stirred dust across the hotel lobby, and Fleeter sauntered from between two marble columns.

“The Chopper was right,” she said. “Half a mile past the Millennium Dome on the north bank. The container yard's massive, but I got in pretty close and saw some of them patrolling.”

“You found the containers they're using?” Jack asked.

Fleeter glanced at Reaper. He nodded for her to continue.

“Not as such. But I got close to an open area in the piled containers. A sort of courtyard. I found one route that twisted its way in there, so there'll be others. And there were sharpshooters up on some of the higher boxes.”

“How many troops?” Reaper asked.

“Difficult to say. I couldn't get too close, didn't want to risk giving anything away. But I saw at least twenty in the courtyard. Dressed casual, not in Chopper outfits, but they're slack at hiding their weapons.”

“Could be countless others in the containers,” Jenna said.

“Yeah, great place for a barracks,” Sparky said.

“Tell the others,” Reaper said.

“Hang on a minute.” Sparky walked from behind the reception desk, twirling a set of keys on one finger. “We can't just storm in all gung-ho.”

“I don't storm anywhere,” Fleeter said.

“You're as good as a blazing gun,” Jenna said. “All you Superiors are. No subtlety, that's your problem. So, we go in like that and they'll respond in kind. Who's to say they won't just execute whatever
prisoners they have and then get away somehow? No way they'd risk an HQ like this without having a pretty good escape plan. In case of…” She waved her hand at Reaper.

“In case of something like this,” Sparky said.

“So what do you suggest?” Reaper asked.

“The girl,” Jenna said. She glanced around at them all, and her gaze finally rested on Jack.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Show of strength.” He glanced at Fleeter. She was smiling at him, leaning against a wall, hand on hip. She was trying to look seductive, and after what he'd seen her do he found that grotesque. But they could work together.

“You and me?” Fleeter asked.

Jack nodded.

“We go in, kill the girl, show them they don't have a hope.” Fleeter's voice was high with excitement.

“No!” Jenna said. “Don't you get it, you stupid bitch? You don't kill her. You don't kill anyone. You just—”

A
clap!
, a swish of air across the hotel lobby, and between blinks Fleeter was behind Jenna with one arm tugging across her neck. Jenna gasped in surprise, then choked, clawing at Fleeter's arm. But the woman was stronger than she looked.

Sparky threw a punch and Fleeter stepped aside, dodging the blow without having to flip.

“Stop it,” Jack said, but no one heard. He glanced at his father, breathed deeply, and spoke the words again, this time imbuing them with Reaper's power.

Behind the counter, cobwebbed keys jangled on their hooks, and dust rose from the lobby carpet. The building itself seemed to grumble, and everyone froze.

With a grunt, Jenna shoved Fleeter away. Sparky glared at the woman, and Reaper watched them all with a humourless smile.

“What Jenna said,” Jack said. “We don't kill anyone. We need a distraction, then Fleeter and I go in and take the girl. Bring her out. Show them what we can do right under their noses, and that to stand against us will be hopeless.”

“Even if there's forty of them?” Sparky said. “Eighty? A hundred?”

“They're ants,” Reaper said.

“Ants with machine guns!”

“We'll force a stalemate,” Jack said. “They've got a perfect hiding place, but it'll go against them as well. They might know the area, but they can't see around corners.”

“And you can?” Breezer asked.

Jack shrugged. He hadn't tried. “With the talents we have here, we can find our way in. And it's the best way. If what we're doing here is actually going to help anyone, we have to move on. Them picking up Irregulars and hunting for…” He nodded at Reaper and Fleeter. “And you killing them whenever you can. If any sort of progress is to be made, the killing has to stop. Here and now.”

“Progress,” Reaper said slowly, as if tasting the word.

“I'll be your distraction,” Sparky said.

“Me too.” Jenna turned her back on Fleeter and faced Jack. “And maybe Breezer and a couple of his people can help.”

Reaper grunted in agreement.

Jack experienced a sudden, overwhelming sense of familiarity—the way his father stood with his hands behind his back, the brush of his hair, the shadow of weak light falling across his cheek and chin. He wanted to go to him and hug him, squeeze away the last two years and tell him how much he loved him, and how much they all needed him.

“And if the distraction fails,” Reaper said, “we'll be waiting to mop up the pieces.”

“It won't fail,” Jack said. But the fragility of their alliance was
already obvious. Reaper and his people seemed almost flippant in their confidence, and there was no telling what their real aims and ambitions were. Reaper had left Miller alive because he amused him. Like a cat leaving a mouse to play with the next day.

And yet Jack was certain that there were underlying insecurities that he had yet to find. If not, why did Reaper not rule London?

And why was he even still here?

He sighed, and thought of his mother and Emily.

They slowly drew together with the others. One of the women with Breezer could communicate in a basic way with her mind, sending hints and urges rather than words. She liaised their meeting point, and long before they got there, Jack and his friends saw the huge area of stacked containers.

It was almost beautiful. The rectangular metal containers came in an array of colours—yellow, green, rusty red, cream, varying shades of blue. There seemed to be no design to how they were stacked, and the mess of colours was busy and pleasing to the eye. But knowing what lay within the container park gave it a sinister edge.

This was where Miller and his Choppers operated from. A place of imprisonment and cruelty. A place of chopping to see what made London's survivors—the New—able to do the amazing things they could. He probed inward and reached out, but he was not able to see far into the maze of containers. It was confused. He wasn't sure why, but his senses were flooded with input from all around, like splashes of colour and light on a dark background. Thousands of containers filled with millions of items. Perhaps they all meant something to someone—all bearing distinct, deep histories—and that concentration of meaning was confusing his talents.

They crossed a wide spread of concrete and approached the first of the containers, watching out for movement. Breezer and his
people emerged from behind one of the metal boxes where they had been waiting, and without a word they joined forces. It was a significant moment, marked by no more than a glance between Reaper and Breezer. Both men hid their thoughts.

The Choppers already knew they were there. Of course they did. They had the girl working for them. But this time the advantage belonged to the New.

Jack and Fleeter held back at the tail end of the group as they moved into a shadowy passageway between container piles. The route quickly became as wide as one of London's streets—wide enough for container trucks and mobile cranes, Jack guessed. Sparky and Jenna led, with Breezer and the three Irregulars just behind them. Puppeteer followed, to the side and slightly apart. Reaper had vanished, advancing from elsewhere, and Jack knew that others would be with him—Shade, Scryer, and more.

So these are the New
, Jack thought, and a tingle ran down his spine. Tense though this moment was, it was also painfully exciting. He had seen more death and murder than anyone his age should ever see, and he hoped that this might be the first step beyond that.

But he also knew that grudges ran white-hot. The slightest mistake could push one side or the other over the precipice.

After ten minutes wending their way between piled metal containers, Fleeter grabbed his arm and pulled him close. The others paused as well, watching expectantly.

“The open area is around the next junction,” she said, nodding at where two routes met a hundred yards ahead.

“The air's loaded,” Jack said. “Tense.”

“Don't need Spidey senses to feel that,” Sparky muttered.

“They'll have guards,” Jenna said.

“And the sharpshooters I told you about,” Fleeter whispered, pointing up.

“Come on,” Jack said. “Fleeter and I will get out of sight while you move on. But…”

“Of course we'll be careful,” Sparky said

Jenna nodded. “I'll look after him.”

Jack watched his friends moving away from him, and the sinking feeling could only have been dread.

Fleeter grabbed his hand and pulled, edging into a much narrower gap. Then she started to climb. He followed, glancing up and then looking away, embarrassed, when he realised he could see up her short skirt. He heard her chuckling above him, and he concentrated on handholds and footholds. In places it was easy, and elsewhere he had to prop himself across the gap and edge upwards an inch at a time. After a few minutes Fleeter's hand reached down and helped haul him up, and they emerged into sunlight.

Jack rolled onto his stomach and looked around. They'd climbed four containers, and around them many were stacked only two or three high. Fleeter pressed her finger to her lips and pointed, and thirty yards away Jack could see someone lying on a lower box, rifle resting before them. They had one hand pressed to their ear, listening to some sort of communicator. Binoculars sat beside them. Fleeter gesticulated “wanker,” then nodded in the opposite direction. To the east the wide, open area where there were no units at all was obvious. They crawled across the roof of the container, keeping as low as possible, and looked down onto a large expanse of concrete.

There were several Chopper vehicles parked there, Land Rovers and a few of the powerful motorbikes they'd seen only recently. People rushed around, weapons on display. They exuded an aura of confidence.
Good
, Jack thought.
We'll soon change that
.