Target (13 page)

“J
IMMY, IT’S US
!” the girl cried.

The boy in his grip was gurgling and spluttering. Jimmy lifted him off the ground by the throat.

“It’s me, Georgie – your sister!”

Jimmy twitched. His sister?
No,
he heard inside his head,
they could be assassins like you.

“You sent for us,” the girl pleaded. Her eye squeezed out a tear. “Jimmy!” At last, Jimmy forced his sleepy human self to take control. There was a faint warmth in his brain. He focused on that, bringing it to life. He relaxed his grip on Felix, who staggered about, heaving in deep breaths.

“I’m so sorry,” Jimmy gasped. “I didn’t…” His voice trailed off. There was nothing he could say. Instead he let his sister squash him in a hug.

The three of them moved out of the hallway and Jimmy closed the door, making sure to lock it again. “You woke me,” Jimmy explained, still panting.

“That,” Felix announced when he could speak, “was
so
cool.”

Finally, Jimmy smiled and threw Felix a punch on the arm. “Good to see you,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

“You look terrible,” Felix replied.

“Where’s Mum?” Georgie asked, still examining Jimmy with concern in her eyes.

Jimmy hesitated over his words, searching for the right way to explain things. “Mum’s OK—” he started. Then Georgie interrupted.

“I didn’t ask how she was – I asked
where
she was.” Jimmy’s momentary silence told Georgie all she needed to know. “NJ7 have her?” she asked quietly.

Jimmy nodded. “They’re all being held in the basement of the French Embassy. I’m on my own. That’s why I sent you that message.” Suddenly, a thought struck him. His mind was clicking into gear, throwing up what should have come to him immediately.

He smiled at Felix and all his words tumbled out at once. “Your parents,” he babbled, brushing his hair back. “They’re OK. They weren’t at the French Embassy. That was a trap. But I found them in this detention centre called Fort Einsmoor. I went there and I, like, broke them out. Well, I got the SAS to do it for me, sort of.”

Felix jumped in, “My parents are free?” Jimmy nodded frantically. “Where are they?”

“Don’t worry, they went to a safe place. Some B&B they used to go to.”

“That’s amazing!” Felix jumped on the spot then belted round the room punching the air.

“That’s brilliant, Jimmy,” said Georgie, much calmer, but still thrilled. “Now we have to rescue all the others.”

“I know,” Jimmy replied.

Felix had stopped dancing around and found his way to the fridge. He didn’t seem too perturbed by the prospect of having to rescue everybody else. He was more concerned with what he could put on his toast.

“I didn’t realise the Deputy Prime Minister had to stay at the office so late into the night.” Dr Higgins’s voice was hoarse and his step was unusually shaky.

“Oh, it’s you, Kasimit.” Ian Coates looked up from his desk, taken aback. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He indicated the chair opposite his, but Dr Higgins remained hovering at the door. “I’ll stay in the office as late as the Prime Minister,” Coates added with a dry chuckle. “Have you cracked the code already?”

The light from Coates’s desk bounced up to catch the doctor’s face as he entered the office. “I won’t sit down, thank you,” Dr Higgins said slowly and carefully. He enunciated every syllable with a sinister clarity. “I came to talk about Memnon Sauvage.”

Coates stood up and gathered himself to his full height. Being away from his family and a full-time agent once more had given him time to work out and retrain in
the art of combat; his physique showed the benefit now. “Dr Sauvage was a threat to national security,” he said. “As such, he had to be neutralised. You know that.”

Ian Coates tensed up again as the doctor approached. Dr Higgins’s right hand was completely enveloped in bandages. But in his left, he held a gun.

“There’s no point taking your grief out on me,” Ian Coates said calmly. As he spoke, the blood rushed to his fingers. If persuasion failed, his own weapon was in the top drawer of his desk. Could he aim and fire fast enough? It was only then that he perceived the opportunity presenting itself to him.

“You have no grudge against me,” he continued. “I was a soldier. I was following an order.” Dr Higgins crept closer. “The man who bears responsibility for this terrible deed is the man who gave that order.” Ian Coates was almost frozen to the spot now, pierced by the stare of an elderly man whose world had been shattered.

“I came to kill you, Ian,” stated the doctor. The hollows of his cheeks sucked the life from his face. “I came to kill
you.”
By his hip, his fingers trembled around the handle of the gun.

Ian Coates felt his loyalty grappling with his shark-like desire to survive. “Kasimit, you’re not thinking straight,” he insisted. “You’d be killing the wrong man. What sort of revenge is that?”

Dr Higgins held the gun level for one more second. Then, at last, his eyes wandered away and his hand
relaxed. “What do you mean?” he gasped. “H-H-Hollingdale? I’ll never get near him.”

“Of course you can, Kasimit,” Coates replied. The tension in his chest forced his voice out too loud. He reined it in. “You’re his doctor. And if his personal security is ordered to let you treat him in private…”

The desperation in Higgins’s eye shifted now to something more – a glint revealed the workings of his immense intellect. “You’re a smart man,” he said. His voice wobbled with emotion. “If I kill Hollingdale, who would take over as Prime Minister?”

Ian Coates let his smile answer the question. Dr Higgins smiled back and mused, “Don’t you think the British public will have something to say about the change?”

“They’ll accept anything if it’s presented to them right. For comfort, people will always cling to apathy.” The two men stared at each other for a few seconds, each understanding the other’s motives perfectly.

Then Dr Higgins spun on his heels and hurried away. Ian Coates’s eyes followed him out of the room. He found himself strangely calm. He picked up the telephone sitting on his desk and tapped a few keys. “Dr Higgins is on his way,” he said with authority. “He needs to see the Prime Minister alone – some…private treatment.”

He replaced the handset with a bang. Was this wise? His hand wavered over the telephone for an instant. He could easily call back and warn the Prime Minister’s
security not to admit Dr Higgins. But his hand dropped to his side. Then he sat down, staring at the documents on his desk, unable to work.

Ian Coates was still staring at the same meaningless document when his telephone rang shortly afterwards. He lifted the receiver and waited for the news he had been expecting.

“Oh no,” he said in response, “that’s terrible…Yes, send an agent over.” He hung up. His hand was still on the receiver when a young NJ7 agent rushed into his office.

“It must have been in his pills – poison, sir,” the agent announced, not sure where to look. “The PM died almost instantly. There was nothing we could do.”

Ian Coates nodded slowly and rose from his desk. The young agent searched his face for guidance. “What should we do, sir?” he ventured. “Dr Higgins has fled. Should we send all units after him? Do you want air support?”

Jimmy’s father ran his fingers along the edge of his desk in thought. He was silent for no more than a moment. “Let him go,” he ordered suddenly.

“What?” gasped the agent.

Ian Coates glared at the younger man. “I gave you an order!” he shouted. “I do not repeat orders.” He pulled his jacket from the back of his chair and smoothed his
hair with his hands. “Call the television stations,” he declared. “Issue a press release. I’m going to the French Embassy. This afternoon I’ll address the nation from there.”

The young agent stood to attention. As Ian Coates marched past, the boy saluted and stuttered: “Y-yes, Prime Minister.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, Jimmy woke up with Felix’s feet in his face. They’d had to share a bed, head to toe. He jerked in horror and nearly fell out.

“What is it?” Felix gabbled, jolted awake. “What? What?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy yawned, scrabbling to his feet. The floorboards were surprisingly cold. “It’s just me.” Georgie had already made the other bed and was buttering a slice of toast.

“Mmm, I’ll have some of that.” Felix was suddenly more awake than any of them. He dashed towards the food. “Nice one, Georgie – thanks. This is the real stuff – way better than baguette.”

Jimmy scratched his head. He took a couple of deep breaths, bringing himself into the real world, not the twisted blackness of his nightmares.

“So what’s the plan today then?” Felix piped up, his mouth already full. “Operation Thumbscrew – phase one.”

“What?” Jimmy exclaimed.

“Operation Thumbscrew,” Felix explained. “It’s a cool name. All good operations have a cool name.”

“Yeah, but – ‘Thumbscrew’?”

“You don’t like it? How about Operation Thunderjam?” He looked at Georgie.

“I think you’re both nuts,” she shrugged.

“Whatever,” Jimmy said with a shake of his head. “I need information, so I’m going to see Eva.”

“Eva?” Felix stopped munching.

“But Eva…” Georgie trailed off.

Jimmy took a deep breath. “Look,” he began, “I know she ran off with Mitchell and I know she’s not my favourite person. But when I was in trouble she helped me. It’s complicated. I think she’s still on our side.”

There was a moment of silence while this sank in.

“Was she ever on our side?” Felix grumbled.

“She’s not like her parents,” Jimmy replied. “She helped me.”

Georgie looked away. “Be careful,” she muttered.

“I thought Eva was your friend.” Jimmy kept his eyes on his sister, but she wouldn’t look at him. “Georgie, don’t be upset with her just because of Mitchell. He’s programmed to kill me. You can’t fancy him.”

“Shut up!” Georgie snapped. “It’s nothing to do with Mitchell. Of course Eva’s still my friend. I just don’t trust her, that’s all.”

Jimmy moved into the bathroom and methodically
began the routine to create a new disguise – the soap, the toilet paper under his lip, the rust from the drainpipe to change the shade of his skin and the ashes in his hair. When he finally looked up, several minutes later, Felix was staring at him, his mouth wide open.

“That is…” He was so impressed he couldn’t even finish his sentence. “Will you teach me how to do that?”

“Another time,” Jimmy said, trying not to smile. “I have to go. Operation…whatever it is.” He punched his friend on the arm, smiled at his sister and strode to the door. Just before he left, he ordered, “Whatever happens, don’t leave this room. Wait for me here. I’ll come for you when I need you.” He looked each of them in the eye in turn, gave a sharp nod and left.

When the door closed after him, Georgie and Felix stood in silence for a few seconds. Both were amazed at Jimmy’s transformation. Eventually, Felix realised something and gasped, “He looked like your dad!”

Ian Coates strode through the lobby of the French Embassy. He glowed with pride though there was still no smile on his face. Running the country was a serious business and there was a lot to worry about. For now though a line of staff waited to meet him. Right at the end were Eva and Mitchell.

By now Eva was beginning to adjust to playing the part of the appreciative little girl. She was growing sick of her
own simpering gratitude. It was Miss Bennett she blamed though. For Mitchell, she only felt pity. She knew he was as trapped at NJ7 as she was, albeit for different reasons. And, after all, he
had
saved her life – even though she hadn’t really been in danger.

There was a part of her that longed to return home, but she knew that she was in a position too valuable to throw away. Miss Bennett had taken her under her wing. Eva had access to NJ7 intelligence and when the time came she might be able to help the prisoners escape.

As the new Prime Minister made his way down the line, Eva was thinking about everything she missed: Georgie, her other school friends, her brothers and now perhaps even her parents. They may have been loyal to the Government, but they had always treated
her
well, hadn’t they? It seemed that, despite their beliefs, Eva loved them.

Eva had her hands firmly behind her back. She leaned forward slightly to keep the Prime Minister in view. She had met Ian Coates many times before of course – but only when he had been nothing more than her best friend’s father.

“What’s he like?” whispered Mitchell.

“Stop fidgeting,” Eva replied. She was trying to concentrate on what was going on at the other end of the line.

“This is the new French Ambassador,” Miss Bennett was saying quietly, acting as Ian Coates’s guide. Eva
couldn’t make out every word, but the gist was obvious.

“Thank you for letting us take over your splendid building,” Coates said in a deep tone.

“Of course, Prime Minister,” gushed the Ambassador. He was a small man with smooth grey hair moulded into an elaborate quiff. “When I heard that security had been breached, it was the least I could do.” He bowed his head and for a second his eyes flicked down to Eva. She pulled herself smartly back into line.

The Prime Minister continued steadily, greeting each member of staff with a handshake and a few words of reassurance that the Government would soon return the building to the French Ambassador’s control. Eva wondered whether that could possibly be true. If that were the case, why was the digger still tunnelling in the basement? Eva suspected it wouldn’t stop until it had connected with the maze of tunnels that comprised NJ7 HQ.

When Ian Coates had moved along the line, past the office staff, the NJ7 agents (most of whom he already knew) and finally the building cleaners, he reached Eva. Not a flicker of surprise showed on his face. Perhaps Miss Bennett had warned him that Eva would be there. He nodded slowly and held out his hand. Eva hesitated for less than a second then took it.

“I’m glad you’re on our side,” Jimmy’s father said carefully. In that moment, Eva thought she saw a hint of disappointment. Did he wish it were his own daughter standing in front of him?

“Ah, the man of the hour,” said the Prime Minister, holding his hand out to Mitchell. But he didn’t smile. Mitchell stood as tall as he could. Eva’s heart went out to him for a second. She knew that Mitchell thought of himself as a soldier now, but in reality what was he? A boy?
No,
thought Eva,
but he isn’t a machine either. He’s more confused than anyone I’ve ever met.

“Pleased to meet you, Prime Minister,” Mitchell muttered.

The light cast deep shadows under Ian Coates’s eyes, as if the weight of responsibility had aged him overnight. Or maybe he just hadn’t slept. “I knew a boy a little younger than you,” he whispered, almost talking to himself. “He could have been a soldier, too.” He turned away immediately and walked towards the staircase.

“Did I do OK?” whispered Mitchell, frantically fidgeting again. Eva tried to respond, but she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was dry and her throat had closed up. Mitchell’s fidgets melted away. He stood completely still now, staring out in front of him.

“I can’t believe I just met the Prime Minister,” he said, but he didn’t sound happy, and the corners of his mouth were turned down. “You know, when someone meets the Prime Minister…” He paused as if he didn’t want to carry on speaking. When he did, his voice was tremulous. “It’s meant to make people proud of you, isn’t it? I mean, your…family and stuff. I think my brother would have been proud.”

Eva could hardly hear what Mitchell was saying. At that moment, she felt so strongly that she should put her arm round him. But she couldn’t do it. Her arm had frozen to her side. Suddenly, she was aware of Miss Bennett frantically clicking her fingers at her from the top of the stairs.

“Eva!” she snapped. “We’re waiting for you.” Eva shuddered. She hadn’t even noticed that everyone else had gone back to work. “Where’s your notebook?” Miss Bennett asked.

Eva pulled out a notebook and pencil from her pocket. She scurried up the stairs. Mitchell was left alone in the lobby. He dropped his head and walked away.

When Eva reached the top of the stairs, she almost tripped. Miss Bennett was waiting with the new Prime Minister. Following Miss Bennett around and taking notes had become one of Eva’s primary duties.

“Sorry, Prime Minister,” Miss Bennett cooed. “Do carry on.”

They walked down the corridor, with Eva scribbling behind them, taking down the crucial pieces of information.

“The crew will be here soon,” Ian Coates was saying. “I’m going to address the nation. My personal security staff will also be here. While Downing Street is still out of commission, I want this to be the safest building in the city. Paduk will need a full set of schematics.”

Eva struggled to keep up – both with their furious
walking pace through the corridors and Ian Coates’s imperious speech. When she heard his next item, however, the world reeled about her.

“As for the prisoners,” Ian Coates sighed, “they have two hours to reveal the location of their safehouse. That will be where Jimmy’s hiding. Tell them that if they don’t, you will execute one of them on the hour, every hour.”

Miss Bennett nodded. “Do you want them killed in any particular order?” she asked. The PM seemed to hesitate. He couldn’t answer.

Out of the corner of her eye, Miss Bennett glanced backwards to check that Eva was still working. Gripping her pencil in her fist, Eva dug it into the page. She wrote, in fat capital letters: “TWO HOURS.” She circled it, and her lead broke.

Eva elbowed her way through the lunchtime crowds. She kept her eyes down, not wishing to attract any more attention to herself. She already stood out as the only child in a street full of secretaries. This was the only time of day when she had a chance to be away from NJ7 – away from Miss Bennett and Mitchell. Today, however, it was not a time to relax.

As she pushed her way to the counter of the sandwich bar to pay for her lunch, her mind was screaming. Two hours. What could she do in two hours? Where was Jimmy?

As she turned to leave, a small old man bustled into her. “Excuse me,” she huffed, but the old man hurried on without even apologising for walking straight into her.

Eva plunged her teeth into her sandwich. It was disgusting. There was something chewy inside it. She pulled it out of her mouth – a soggy piece of paper. She was about to return to the counter to complain, but the paper wasn’t blank. There was a message on it: “Hyde Park boathouse. Five minutes.”

She recognised that the handwriting was that of a child. She quickly stuffed the paper back into her mouth and swallowed. Eva looked around her. All she could see was a crowd of hungry workers on their lunch breaks.

Eva wolfed down another bite of sandwich, happy to take away the taste of the note. She hurried into the street, constantly checking for anybody who might be following her.

The park was fairly quiet – it was too cold and windy for anybody to be taking their lunch outdoors. Unsurprisingly, the area round the boathouse was almost deserted. Even the few tourists who were still allowed to come into Britain wouldn’t have ventured into the park on a day like today. There were only closed up ice-cream stalls and an old man sweeping the path.

Eva moved towards the ticket window of the boathouse, but the old man stepped in front of her. Eva was shocked as he brushed past, pushing something
into her hand. “Pedal to the centre of the lake,” he whispered. Then he shuffled on.

Eva opened her palm to find a ticket for a pedalo boat. She stepped towards the edge of the Serpentine – the lake that runs through the middle of Hyde Park. She stopped at the gate in the fence, where a scruffy young man was reading a newspaper. He took her ticket, showing no interest at all, and led her to the cluster of pedalo boats that were tied up at the edge of the lake. He gruffly detached one with his pole and pulled it into position for Eva.

All the time she was looking about. The old man with the broom was nowhere to be seen. Eva kept telling herself that it must be Jimmy, but she couldn’t believe it.

Pulling her coat tighter around her, she pedalled the boat towards the centre of the lake. Hers was the only one out on the water today. Even the ducks kept their distance, happier to shelter near the banks.

Eva shivered. Suddenly, her doubts overcame her. What if it hadn’t been Jimmy passing her notes? She’d never seen the man’s face. This whole charade could be a trap. Then she felt something cold grab her hand. She almost jumped out of her seat – a clammy white arm reached out of the water and held tight to her wrist. Eva wanted to scream but she was too shocked. Then a head followed the arm: Jimmy.

He placed a finger on his lips but didn’t ease his grip on Eva’s arm. He had crept up on her silently, breaking
the surface of the water with hardly a ripple. “Don’t look at me,” he whispered. “Keep your eyes straight ahead.” Eva did as she was told. “I could pull you under in a second. You know that, don’t you?” Eva’s eyes were watering. Jimmy’s fist was hurting her arm. She nodded.

“Now tell me the truth,” Jimmy rasped. “What are you doing at NJ7? Why did you run off with Mitchell?”

Eva was almost in tears. Her words tumbled out: “I thought Mitchell killed you. I saw him holding you down in that machine. He pretended he was reaching in to help you, but I saw him pushing. He doesn’t know that. He thinks I’m his friend.”

“What about NJ7?”

“They think I’m working for them,” she quivered. “I told them about Viggo and Saffron.”

“You
told them?” Jimmy hissed through his teeth, digging his fingers in even harder.

“They already knew,” she added quickly. “But they had to think I was betraying you. Please! Let go of my arm!”

Jimmy released her and held on to the side of the boat instead. Eva immediately pulled her arm away and rubbed the red marks left by Jimmy’s grasp.