Target (12 page)

G
EORGE RUSHED INTO
the farmhouse and let the door slam behind her. Her cheeks were flushed.

“Felix!” she shouted, not waiting to catch her breath. “We have to get to London!”

Felix burst out of the kitchen. “What?”

Georgie barely knew where to start. “I printed this out at the Internet café in the village.” She thrust a piece of paper into Felix’s hands while she caught her breath. “I found it on a Louise Rennison message board.”

“Who’s that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Georgie panted. “When I started looking, I found loads of messages that were identical, all on different sites.”

Felix studied the printout, a smile creeping on to his face:
Get 2 London. Feel icks too? Then leave the cook.
“It’s Jimmy!” he exclaimed. “It has to be.”

“I know. And look at the username – ‘JawG’. He’s talking to me.”

“He knows it’s dangerous to use email, so he found another way of getting in touch with us.” Felix read the message again.
“Feel icks
– that’s me, isn’t it?”

“You know, for such an idiot, he’s pretty clever sometimes – there’s nothing in this message NJ7 could pick up.” Georgie thought for a second then added, “Do you think this means Mum’s in trouble? And what’s happened to the others?”

For a second she was almost talking to herself. Then she snapped back to Felix. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

Felix looked at her with thinly disguised disappointment. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, bubbling over with energy. “Pack light. Don’t wear anything that might attract attention. Do you have a hat? Maybe wear something that will cover your eyes just in case. Not that NJ7 will be looking for us or Jimmy wouldn’t have told us to come. That’s why he says to leave the cook behind. He means Yannick. Did you get that bit?”

Georgie rolled her eyes. “Duh!”

“What about me?” Yannick had appeared at the bottom of the stairs, alerted by the excitable conversation and then the sound of his name.

“We have to go to London.” Georgie’s mind was made up. “Not you though. Drive us to the station and we’ll explain on the way. Oh, and we’ll need some cash.” Her voice was firm, but Yannick was startled.

“Are you mad?” he whispered, peering up the stairs
to make sure his mother wasn’t listening. “Look,” he started, “I’m responsible for you while the others are away. I can’t let…”

Felix and Georgie already had their coats on. Georgie dangled the key to the truck in front of Yannick. “You can come back here and look after your mother,” she ordered. “But we need a lift to the station.” She held up the printout of Jimmy’s message in front of Yannick’s nose.

The chef read it several times, then sighed and rubbed his face. “OK,” he groaned.

Felix’s face lit up. He beamed at Georgie and under his breath he quipped, “Time to put our training into action.”

Along with places like Fort Monckton in Hampshire and Fort Monmouth in Yorkshire, Fort Einsmoor’s existence was officially denied by the British Government. It always had been. But Monckton and Monmouth were relatively innocent establishments. One was the principle MIB training centre, the other housed eleven underground floors of computers analysing and eavesdropping on the world’s electronic communications. Jimmy had learned that Fort Einsmoor was Britain’s Siberia. Where the Government sent people to disappear.

Jimmy lay on his front, hidden by the grass. Fort Einsmoor glowed against the dark of the sea. He was just
out of range of the floodlights, which meant he was still more than 200 metres away. The fort consisted of a group of simple but sturdy buildings, surrounded by a high fence of corrugated metal, barbed wire and more security guards than Jimmy had ever seen in a single place. They had guard dogs too, but Jimmy wasn’t worried about those. They couldn’t smell him. Jimmy knew from the computer at NJ7 that Neil and Olivia Muzbeke were being held in separate buildings within the complex.

The rain lashed against his back; he didn’t mind. It would only make his job easier by reducing visibility for the guards. Besides, he had already hiked for two hours through the rain from the station.

The only other building for miles was the small concrete hut that Jimmy was studying now – the hut that contained the transformer for the fort’s power supply. Jimmy knew that if he knocked out the electricity, the fort’s back-up generator would kick in. But all he needed was the slight delay before that happened. In those seconds, the lights would be out and Jimmy would be the only person there able to see. That would be enough to get him to the main gate.

He crawled on his front, digging his elbows into the mud and dragging himself onwards. The power supply was guarded, but nowhere near as heavily as the main complex of the fort. Jimmy was close now. There were two guards, both heavily armed and covered from head to toe in bulletproof body armour.

Jimmy took two deep breaths. This was the last moment before the assault began. Once he revealed his presence, there was no going back. But he was determined – before the end of the night he would have freed Felix’s parents from Fort Einsmoor.

He sprang up from the ground and sprinted towards the first guard. Before the man could aim his gun, Jimmy was on him. He spun full circle, kicking the guard first with his right leg then with his left. The second guard turned in time to see his colleague crumple to the ground. He didn’t have time to raise the alarm. Jimmy rolled through the grass and hacked him down at the knee. Then he slammed his hand on to the back of the man’s head with a sharp chop.

Both guards were knocked unconscious. Jimmy grabbed the padlock on the door to the hut.
Focus,
he told himself. His programming was already on high alert. It surged through his fingers. The padlock snapped with apparent ease.

Inside, Jimmy was met by a baffling piece of machinery: a large grey box with dials on every surface and spindles of wire coming out of the top. There were dramatic warning signs that depicted the figure of a man being struck by lightning. Jimmy could only ignore them.

He scuttled back to one of the guards, who was still lying in the mud. Gently, Jimmy lifted the machine gun from the man’s hands. Then his eye caught on a weapon he preferred – there was a knife tucked into the guard’s
belt. Jimmy took it delicately and crawled back to the transformer.

He set about his work efficiently, using the blade of the knife like a screwdriver to open up more of the machine’s panels. This exposed even more wiring. Fortunately, Jimmy didn’t need to know how this thing worked. He just needed to stop it working. He slipped the knife between the wires in different places around the machine and slit right through them. Sparks rained around the concrete in a series of tiny explosions. The noise attracted the attention of every security guard in the fort. Jimmy peeked his head out of the bunker. Dogs pounded towards him, slavering at the mouth. Then the lights went out and Jimmy ran.

Suddenly, the barking turned to a howling. The dogs had nothing to chase. Jimmy tore across the field, pumping his legs harder than even he realised he could. Torch beams flashed in every direction, but only Jimmy had night vision. Seconds later, he was thrown forward by a massive explosion. The transformer. Flames lit up the whole area. In the confusion, nobody noticed Jimmy.

He made it to the gate just as the back-up generator brought the floodlights back to life. Jimmy sprinted to the main building. As one, an entire unit turned to aim their weapons at him. From guard towers fifty metres up came a hail of bullets, fired in panic.

Jimmy burst into the entrance hall, never letting up in his pace. He brushed aside four guards with efficient
karate moves. From the last to fall, he snatched an ID card-key, snapping it off the man’s belt. In the same movement he swiped it and slipped through the metal door beside the reception desk. There, a single jab flattened the waiting guard. At the desk, a single button released the doors of the cells.

Chaos descended on Fort Einsmoor. A siren exploded into life. Beneath it, Jimmy heard the pounding of feet rushing down the corridors towards him. Their boots squeaked on the lino. The sound of the siren was drowned out by the scores of inmates hollering with excitement. They had been forewarned that something was about to happen when the lights went out. Now they were each attempting their own escape.

Jimmy needed just a glance at the register on the computer to check where Neil Muzbeke would be. Then he ran through the commotion. He could have found the correct cell with his eyes closed – since leaving NJ7 he had thought of nothing but the schematics of the fort. He raced along the rows of cells, counting the doors. He dodged guards and inmates alike, battling it out between themselves. Then he slid to a stop and swung into the next cell.

“Jimmy!” exclaimed Neil Muzbeke, sitting calmly on the edge of his bunk. Prison had worn him down. His face looked thin and his stubble was silver. The grey uniform drained the colour from his skin. But there was a smile on his face. It seemed like the first smile his face
had ever attempted. Jimmy dropped his knife and went to embrace his best friend’s father. “How’s Felix?” the man asked.

“He’s fine,” Jimmy shouted over the din. “Now let’s get out of here.” But Neil Muzbeke was not alone in his cell. Leaning against the wall, perfectly still, was a man whose lean physique could have been all muscle. His bright blue stare pierced the disorder. Then, in a flash, he pulled out a gun from under the sink.

“Don’t move,” he snarled. Neil Muzbeke shot to his feet, amazed.

Jimmy stayed perfectly still. He hadn’t expected to find an NJ7 agent undercover in Neil Muzbeke’s cell. But this wasn’t the first time he’d faced the business end of a gun. He steadily raised his hands. Then, in a sudden burst of movement, Jimmy twisted and ducked. The agent fired, but Jimmy was too quick. He ripped a sheet from the bunk and whipped it at the agent’s arm. The agent tried to adjust his aim, but the sheet had wrapped itself around his wrist. Jimmy had control and he pulled the sheet downwards. The agent made a move to switch hands, but Jimmy brought him to the floor with an explosive roundhouse kick.

Outside the cell the confusion was still growing. Jimmy peeked out of the door. The prison security guards were busy quelling the disquiet among the inmates. Then Jimmy saw a different team of soldiers at the end of the corridor: the SAS had arrived. With
devastating efficiency they were searching and securing every cell. They were looking for Jimmy.

“There’s no time,” Jimmy muttered, almost to himself.

“How are we going to get out of here?” whispered Neil Muzbeke. Jimmy had no answer. He had lost vital seconds dealing with the undercover NJ7 agent. Fort security was one thing, but now the SAS was here…

Neil realised what Jimmy’s silence signified. He whispered, “Jimmy, leave me here. You’ll be able to get out alone.”

Jimmy felt a dark anger squeezing him from the inside. He couldn’t fail. But he knew that Neil was right. Alone he would probably be able to make it, but Neil wouldn’t last ten seconds. His infiltration of Fort Einsmoor had been a total waste of time. Tears of fury welled up in Jimmy’s eyes. He turned back to the NJ7 agent lying on the floor, just starting to come round again.

You did this,
thought Jimmy.
You and your whole organisation.
Jimmy strode over to him and heaved his foot into the man’s side. The agent clutched at his ribs. Jimmy couldn’t hold it in any more. “You did this!” he shouted, overwhelmed by the bitter power of his anger. “You and my father! How could you do this?”

“Jimmy, what should we do?” Neil whispered frantically. “Those men are getting closer.”

Jimmy brushed off Neil’s consoling hand and
screamed at the agent, “How could you let your friend be locked up?” His feet rained blows on to the agent’s body. “How could you do this to your own friend? How could you do this to your son?” Tears streamed down his cheeks. Finally Neil Muzbeke pulled Jimmy away, holding him in a tight hug. Jimmy heaved in wretched sobs.

He closed his eyes and wished the darkness would swallow him. Still, the sounds of the prison invaded his head. He pulled away from Neil and turned once again to the NJ7 agent. But the man on the floor wasn’t moving; a trickle of blood drained from his mouth. Somewhere deep beneath his anger, stifled by the violent rage, Jimmy heard a small voice in his head.
What have I done?

“I
T’S
OK,” N
EIL
said softly, holding Jimmy back from the blood that seeped towards them. “We have to get out of here – now!”

Jimmy snapped round. If the man at his feet was dead, he didn’t want to know right now. “OK, I’ll go,” he choked. “You stay.” His programming blew a path through the fog in his head and he grasped the spark of an idea. “You have to be him.” He pointed at the crumpled agent.

“What?”

“There’s a river six miles east of here…” Jimmy had trouble finishing his sentence. Neil clasped him by the shoulders and Jimmy marshalled his thoughts. “I’ll meet you there. Here’s what you do…”

Jimmy explained everything in a rush. There was no time for Neil to ask questions. The SAS was searching the cell next door.

“Got that?” Jimmy asked. Neil Muzbeke nodded.
Jimmy collected his energy for the fights to come, shutting out the body at his feet.

“Go,” Neil whispered. Jimmy burst out of the cell, just as an SAS soldier stepped out of the one next door. “In here, quickly!” The SAS man peered through the turmoil, but whatever it was he had seen, it was gone. In seconds the SAS filled Neil’s cell.

“Secret Service!” Neil shouted to identify himself before the commanding officer could say anything. “I’m undercover. Jimmy Coates was in here, so I killed the prisoner he came for.” He indicated the NJ7 agent lying at his feet.

“Do you have ID?” barked the soldier.

“ID?” scoffed Neil. “This is an attempted jail break, not a post office. Now do as I say.” The SAS team looked unsure whether to shoot or listen to orders. Their commanding officer leaned his mouth down to a walkie-talkie on his shoulder.

“Warden,” he muttered, “please confirm – is there a Government agent undercover in cell 217-4? Out.” A moment later the response crackled through:

“Affirmative. Repeat: There
is
an agent of the Secret Services posted in 217-4. Out.”

Immediately, the soldier’s body language changed. He stood to attention and saluted. “Sabre Squadron G, Mobility Troop under your command, sir.”

Only Neil’s fear stopped him smiling. His adrenaline lent his voice authority. “Jimmy Coates is heading for
Cellblock D. He’s leading a team of at least a dozen men. Inform the warden. Take your troop to that block, bring the prisoner Olivia Muzbeke away from the enemy. Fort Einsmoor is compromised. I need the prisoner alive, in a prison van at the main gate, where I – and I alone – will escort her to a secure location.”

The SAS commander saluted again and led the troop away. Neil was about to jog after them, but the NJ7 agent on the floor rolled over and groaned. Relieved that the man was alive, Neil used the bed sheets to tie him up and gag him, making sure he wouldn’t ruin the plan. Then Felix’s father caught up with the SAS.

As soon as he was outside, he couldn’t help it. A broad smile split his face and he pulled the rain-soaked air into his lungs. He saluted the SAS and peeled away towards the main gate. Nobody stopped him – a few even saluted.

Jimmy didn’t waste time looking back. He jumped through the crowds of inmates, weaving a path that was impossible to shoot at, ducking below the sights of anybody behind him. It came naturally to him now – his programming was conveying him to safety.

But had it been his programming at work in the cell? Once the NJ7 agent had been incapacitated there had been no reason to continue with the assault. Jimmy feared that even without his programming he would have
lost his temper and kept on kicking the agent. Was the man still alive?

Jimmy tried to remember exactly what he had done to the NJ7 agent, blow by blow, but he couldn’t. Did he kick him in the head? When he thought back, all he saw was a confused haze. Just as anger threatened to swamp him again, a bullet screamed past his ear. That refocused Jimmy’s attention.

He used the ID card to slip through a supposedly secure door. A guard spun round, surprised, but Jimmy nailed him with a kick to the solar plexus. A backhand slap knocked the guard out and Jimmy was back at the main desk. From here he could control what happened throughout the whole of the fort. For a start, on a bank of a dozen monitors, he could see the coverage of every CCTV camera. Now he knew exactly where security was heaviest and, more importantly, where it wasn’t.

From the grainy images on the screens in front of him, it looked like the plan was working. The army had brought in back-up and established a cordon around cellblock D – the block where Olivia Muzbeke was being held. Then the SAS expertly stormed the building. Jimmy had no chance of getting her out himself. But Jimmy didn’t need to. The SAS was doing it for him – when you need the best, employ the best. Jimmy watched as they moved in waves round each corner, secured the route from the cell and gently pulled Olivia Muzbeke from her bunk.

Jimmy’s block was virtually unguarded now. He plotted a path in his head, based on what he could see on the screens. Then he hit the lights. This time it would be much longer before they came on again – Jimmy didn’t just flick the switch, he smashed the whole control desk out of recognition. He ripped off the metal casing and tore through wiring with his fists. First the surveillance monitors died then the lights went out across the whole of Fort Einsmoor.

Jimmy ran through the rain without a single obstacle. Soon he was out of the fort complex, steaming across the field. Ahead of him he caught sight of the silhouette of a prison van. As soon as he saw it, it rounded a corner and was gone. Jimmy smiled.

Jimmy was reunited with the Muzbekes at the river, as he’d arranged.

“Thank you, Jimmy,” panted Neil Muzbeke. “Thank you so much.” He embraced Jimmy again then took hold of his wife’s hand. Jimmy grimaced against the rain. They were in open country now, with only the van to shield them from the wind. Jimmy looked at the smiling faces of Neil and Olivia, but couldn’t bring himself to share their joy.

“It’s OK, Jimmy,” Neil said, reading his expression, “the agent in the cell was still alive. I had to knock him out again. You didn’t do permanent harm to anybody.”

Jimmy turned away. His insides heaved with relief – he still hadn’t become the killer his body wanted him to be. But there was no satisfaction in that. He knew that this time it hadn’t been his assassin’s programming forcing him to kill. It had been
him
– the human Jimmy Coates. He had never before lost control over that part of him. Whether the man had died or not didn’t seem to matter any more. That had just been luck. The fact was, from the position he’d been in, Jimmy could easily have killed him.

“How’s Felix?” asked Olivia Muzbeke, pulling him out of his turmoil for the moment.

Jimmy wiped his eyes. “Don’t worry. He’s fine. And safe.” He smiled and added, “He says ‘hi’.”

“Thank you, Jimmy,” declared Olivia, “That’s wonderful.”

Jimmy scanned the horizon, wondering how much time they had before they should move on. “I don’t know where you can go,” he said. “London’s too dangerous. I can’t take you to the safehouse. We can use the van for now, but soon NJ7 will identify their agent and be after us.”

“He’ll identify himself, Jimmy,” reprimanded Neil. “He’s not dead – remember?” Jimmy nodded faintly, his brain torn between the military planning of the assassin and the terror of a normal boy. For an instant they united. Both knew that when the NJ7 agent raised the alarm, all of Britain’s military resources would be searching the countryside for that prison van.

“Neil,” started Olivia softly, “what about the bed and
breakfast in that village we visited years ago? Do you remember the owners? I’d trust them. And nobody would ever think to look for us there.” Neil nodded slowly.

“Where is this place?” Jimmy asked.

“I’ll show you on the map,” replied Neil.

There didn’t seem to be many other options – they certainly couldn’t seek out any family. NJ7 would be hot on to every obvious contact.

“As soon as you get there,” Jimmy instructed, “repaint the van, remove the number plates then get rid of it anyway.” Felix’s parents nodded solemnly.

The three of them hurried back into the van and sped across the fields to join the country roads. Soon they were back at Ulverston Station, where Jimmy jumped out, still covered head to toe in mud. Neil and Olivia thanked him over and over then drove on. Jimmy hoped they were right about being able to hide at that B&B. If not, all his efforts would be for nothing.

He found himself a seat on the train back to London – a four-hour journey – and tried to sleep. It was impossible. The anxiety tore at his brain until he thought he could hear it. Blood clogged the fibres of his trainers. As it dried, Jimmy picked at it, diligently scratching at every speck.

“What do you mean?” raged Hollingdale, from his bunker deep beneath the streets of London. “Their location was top secret!”

Paduk dropped his eyes to his shoes and cracked his jaw. “I know that, sir,” he said. “But the news has just been confirmed: the Muzbekes are in the open. We’re doing all we can.”

“Who did this?” Hollingdale’s face was blistering red. His lips were raw and speckled with spit. Paduk looked into the Prime Minister’s face. He knew he didn’t need to answer the question. Hollingdale knew it too and didn’t wait for an answer.

“That boy!” he fumed. “But how?”

There was an eerie silence. Hollingdale’s eyes flicked all around the room as if the concrete walls were closing in on him. “Someone will suffer for this,” he hissed. “Someone will suffer. And we
will
terminate Jimmy Coates.”

Viggo, Saffron, Helen and Stovorsky all slumped against the walls of the cell. For a few hours it would be too much effort to stand because of the small but painful operation to implant tracking chips in their heels. Their faces were twisted in concentration – blocking out the discomfort, and puzzling over what to do about their predicament.

They were silent until Helen Coates let out another blistering cough.

“They have to let you see a doctor,” said Viggo, looking across at Helen’s sickly colouring.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied with a slight smile. “Nobody can come out of the English Channel in perfect health.”

“But you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Helen chuckled.

“No, I mean…” Viggo was blushing.

“One of you knows where Jimmy Coates is,” announced Paduk, appearing at the cell as if out of nowhere. “And it’s time to tell me. I mean
you,
Viggo.”

Paduk pointed and another agent stepped in to drag Viggo to the end of the hall, back into the interrogation room. Viggo breathed deeply as they strapped him once again into a vast leather chair. It was similar to a dentist’s chair, but this one had buckles to secure the arms, legs and neck.

“Where is Jimmy Coates?” Paduk began. It was the question he had repeated over and over throughout every interrogation session. This time, however, there was an added ferocity in his eyes.

“This is a waste of time,” Viggo replied. His voice didn’t waver, but every one of his muscles was tensed. Then he felt the stab of a syringe in his lower back. He didn’t wince.

“Where is Jimmy Coates?” Paduk asked again.

“How can I tell you,” Viggo slurred, “when I don’t know?”

Paduk bent down and placed his mouth next to Viggo’s ear. “Be creative,” he whispered.

“You’re sure this is the street?” Georgie had been trying to think of some way to verify Felix’s information.

“This is definitely the address,” Felix replied. “Trust me.” He cast his eyes around the blocks. The place was deserted. “It’s that one,” he announced.

“It looks like a normal house.”

“And you look like a normal human being. Just goes to show, doesn’t it?”

Georgie realised she had no choice. She was completely in Felix’s hands. She reached the doorway first. “There’s no buzzer,” she whispered. “Just a keypad.”

“Oh yeah, the code.” Felix scrunched up his brow and mouthed a series of numbers.

“Tell me you remember the code,” pleaded Georgie, her eyes to the sky.

“Got it!” Felix shoved Georgie to one side and pounded the keypad. Georgie felt herself tense up, half expecting a cage to come down on top of them. Instead, the door buzzed long enough for Felix to push it open. He welcomed Georgie in with a massive grin on his face.

“It’s the top floor,” he whispered before turning to bound up the stairs. Georgie didn’t follow.

“Don’t worry,” Felix reassured her. “That Vostorsky guy wrote down very specific instructions.”

“It’s Stovorsky,” Georgie responded, one eyebrow arching upwards, “and you remembered every single detail when you only saw it for a second?”

“It’s a vital skill. How else could I copy Jimmy’s school work?”

Jimmy’s eyes burst open. The flash of a nightmare sizzled away. His programming zipped through his veins, stirring every sinew of his body. A creak on the stairs. Definitely. He knew that immediately, despite the fact that he had been asleep. A glance at the clock told him he hadn’t been sleeping long.

There it was again. Then voices. Whoever it was, they were indiscreet. His programming made the judgement – the human in him overheard it, but hadn’t yet woken up fully. He rolled off the bed and crept to the door.

He blinked fast. There was mumbling in the corridor. Somewhere in his head, he felt he knew who it was. But he couldn’t trust that. It could be a trick.

In one movement, he unlocked the door and ripped it open. Two people. Moving with the speed of a machine, he twisted between them. He grabbed the smaller one by the neck and pressed him up against the doorpost. The other one, a girl, screamed and stepped away.

Jimmy caught her ankle with his foot. She crashed to the floor. Jimmy jammed his heel into the back of her neck.