Target (7 page)

M
ITCHELL AND
E
VA
walked in silence through the clatter of the Gare du Nord. They’d left the horse at the next town on from Beuvron and reached Paris in a taxi. At every stage, Eva questioned her decision to come with Mitchell. For his part, Mitchell had hardly spoken. Perhaps it was just awkwardness now that he had a girl with him – and one who had clearly acted as if she had strong feelings for him. But Eva sensed it was more than that. He didn’t act coldly towards her – but he seemed deep in thought.

They joined the queue at passport control. Eva was about to ask what Mitchell meant to do about the rest of his family, who were meant to be on holiday with him, when she suddenly froze.

“I don’t have my passport,” she gasped. She pictured it sitting in her father’s desk at home. Collecting their passports certainly hadn’t been on anybody’s mind when they fled London in the helicopter. Mitchell sighed and looked around, distracted.

“Did you hear me?” Eva asked. “We can’t go anywhere. I don’t have my passport. Do you have yours?”

“We don’t need them,” Mitchell said quickly.

“What?”

“Look, I’m sorry, Eva,” he lowered his voice and looked her straight in the eye, “I lied to you. I’m not here on holiday. I’m not with my family. And that stuff I told you about me having a criminal record?” He shook his head slowly.

Eva stared back at him. It felt like the station forecourt was melting beneath her feet. Mitchell took her by the shoulder and continued in an undertone. “I’m Secret Service,” he confided, “I was sent to France to find you and bring you back.”

Eva felt her knees wobbling. It was as if the station itself was dissolving around her. Could this possibly be true? Viggo had snatched Eva in the middle of the night by mistake; he and Jimmy had been trying to rescue Georgie from Eva’s family, who were supporters of Ares Hollingdale. As far as NJ7 knew, Eva had been a hostage of theirs, rather than a willing helper.

But why had the Secret Service been looking for her, not the police? Why hadn’t Mitchell just explained that when they first met? And why had he lied even after Jimmy had been killed?

Her questions tormented her, but she couldn’t ask them. So much flashed through her mind: meeting Mitchell at the Internet café, flirting with him while they
were riding, the roar of the shredder, Jimmy’s blood on Mitchell’s clothes. Should she run now? Would she get away? Beneath the confusion, another thought crept up on her. It was the same urge that had led her to come with Mitchell in the first place.
Don’t let him get away with this,
it begged.

Before she could piece any of it together, Mitchell pulled her forwards, past the queue. On the other side of the desk there was a booth with mirrored windows. From it emerged a tall, dark-haired man in the uniform of a customs officer. Mitchell gave a discreet nod, and the officer nodded back. He whisked them through passport control.

Everything was happening so fast, Eva couldn’t take it in. They scurried through the terminal, the customs officer escorting them all the way into a first-class carriage. Only as she took her seat did Eva notice the enamel badge nestled against the man’s lapel – a green stripe.

‘Semper Occultus’
– Always Secret. Mitchell stared up at the Secret Service motto. It adorned the wall behind the desk, just beneath the crest of the Royal Family. It wasn’t Miss Bennett’s desk, because they weren’t at NJ7. Mitchell and Eva had been met by a car at Waterloo and brought to the headquarters of M16, on the banks of the Thames. The building looked almost like a castle, but one
that was peppered with security cameras. Mitchell was on the top floor now, and out of the window he could look from London’s skyline to the people crawling across Vauxhall Bridge below.

He was here because it was out of the question to allow Eva, a civilian, into NJ7 HQ. Even the agent whose office they had borrowed had been shocked to learn that NJ7 really existed. He had always thought of it as some kind of ghost story. Now that he knew, he would be manning an observation tower in the Outer Hebrides by the end of the day.

Mitchell was keen to avoid eye contact with the woman who was technically his commanding officer.

“Well?” Miss Bennett stabbed Mitchell with a stare.

“Jimmy Coates is dead,” he announced without emotion.

Miss Bennett made no response. Did her eyes flicker for a moment? Mitchell couldn’t tell. He didn’t want to look too closely.

“Anything else?” she said at last.

“There might be two hostile operatives gathering intelligence for a raid on the French Embassy. One man, one woman.”

“Might be?”

“It’s possible the source was trying to impress me.” Mitchell paused then clarified, “She might have made it up.”

Miss Bennett smiled, but still her eyes seemed dead. “And you’ve brought Eva Doren back with you,” she mused.

“Yes,” replied Mitchell. “I told her I was sent by Secret Services—”

“Coming here would have looked a little odd if you hadn’t,” interrupted Miss Bennett.

“But she thinks I was sent to look for
her,
not Jimmy Coates.”

Miss Bennett stroked her chin for a moment, then spoke softly. “That’s quick thinking. Good.” She flicked her eyes to the back of the room, where a man in a black suit guarded the door. “Send in the girl.”

The man nodded discreetly and left. Mitchell’s heart was thumping.

“What happens to me now?” he said, his voice betraying his trepidation.

“As long as you continue to work for us,” Miss Bennett replied, unsurprised by his question, “you’ll be in no trouble.”

Mitchell had no time to say anything more before Eva Doren came in. He stepped aside, taking up a position by the wall. Eva glanced at him, but again he avoided making eye contact.

He really is in the Secret Service,
thought Eva.

“Good afternoon, Miss Doren,” said Miss Bennett in a tone that was disgustingly friendly. “Your parents will be here shortly. In the mean time, if there is anything we can do to help you…Counselling of any kind…”

Eva was only half listening. She knew the choice she was faced with.
That’s the easy way out,
she thought.

Her dilemma was clear.
Go home, or stay near Mitchell to find out what’s really going on.
She’d made up her mind at the Gare du Nord.

Miss Bennett was still rattling on. Eva cut her off. “I don’t want to go back with my parents,” she blurted.

Miss Bennett was taken aback, but it took only a moment for her to adjust. “Eva, your parents have spent every minute since your abduction trying to find you,” she explained.

“But I can help you,” Eva said. “Let me work for you.”

Miss Bennett let out an abrasive laugh. “I know the idea of being a ‘spy’ is all very glamorous, young lady, and maybe one day when you’re older…”

“I mean now. You don’t need to pay me. Think of it as work experience.”

Miss Bennett stifled her laughter and waved to the man at the door to take Eva away.

“Christopher Viggo and Saffron Walden are planning to break into the French Embassy!” Eva shouted as quickly as she could. Miss Bennett held up a hand to the man in the suit. “They’re trying to rescue Felix Muzbeke’s parents,” Eva continued.

“Is this true?” enquired Miss Bennett slowly. “Or are you trying to impress me?” She shot Mitchell a wry smile.

“I know all about their operation.” Eva waited, trying to work out what Miss Bennett was thinking. “And I know all about yours too,” she added. “For example, if Mitchell
is like Jimmy, I assume he’s also only 38 per cent human.”

Mitchell’s head whipped round in her direction. “You know about…that?” he gasped. Eva nodded. “And you still…” Mitchell paused, searching for the right words,
“…like
me?” Eva nodded again and a sparkle lit up Mitchell’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before. Miss Bennett’s expression still gave nothing away.

“I know about NJ7,” Eva declared. At that Miss Bennett visibly tensed up.

“Your parents have been informed that we found you,” she said calmly. “It would be a shame to have to tell them that what we found was your body.”

Mitchell found himself short of breath, suddenly terrified for Eva. But she didn’t need his help. “You’re either going to have to kill me or employ me,” she announced.

At that Miss Bennett really smiled. Something had clearly struck her. Then her mobile phone rang and she flipped it open. Her eyes were still on Eva. Mitchell began to summon his programming. If they tried to kill Eva he could intervene.

“Yes?” Miss Bennett barked into her phone. “Tell them it wasn’t their daughter after all…Tell them we’re still looking.” She snapped her phone shut and slipped it back into her pocket. “I like your attitude, Miss Doren,” she said. “You’re practical. Like me.”

“You were wise to call me, Stovorsky,” said the doctor, still poring over Jimmy’s ankle. “A civilian doctor would have gone straight to the authorities.”

“Is he OK?” Stovorsky replied. They spoke in French, but even in his woozy state Jimmy had no problem understanding. Felix, however, was bewildered. He sat next to the bed with his mouth hanging open.

The doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Most of the bones in his leg were shattered, but they’re not normal bones. They’re as tough as girders and seemed to be replenishing even as I was examining them. The flesh round his calf is shredded to pieces, as you saw, but he’s already clotting the wound from the inside. He stopped bleeding remarkably quickly, given the degree of trauma.” The doctor was strapping up the injury as he spoke. Jimmy didn’t squirm. His body appeared to have shut off all feeling below his left knee while that part of his leg healed. It was as if his brain had sent an anaesthetic to be administered automatically.

The doctor wasn’t finished with his report though. Now he turned to Jimmy’s neck. “It looks like the skin here was split cleanly. There are no fragments of tooth or leather to infect the wound. And his body shut off the bleeding here before it even started, if such a thing is possible.”

Jimmy had bandaging wrapped round his neck that meant he couldn’t turn to either side, and gauze stuffed in
his mouth that made it hard to speak. He felt like most of it was unnecessary, but he made tiny nods and grunts to show that he understood. The doctor looked into Jimmy’s face, but there was no friendly smile to go with the medical attention.

“Any normal boy would never walk again,” he said flatly. “But as far as I can tell you’ll be fine. Just stay in bed for a few days with your leg up. And I’ve written out some exercises for you.” He started to gather his instruments, but Jimmy wasn’t satisfied.

“Og-oh,” he tried, then spat out the lumps of gauze in frustration. “Doctor, I don’t understand.” His voice was raw and his throat hurt when he spoke – not that he cared.

The doctor rolled his eyes and gathered the bandages he had so carefully administered.

“Why wasn’t my body tougher?” Jimmy implored.

The doctor stared at Stovorsky and was about to address him, but Stovorsky nodded as if to reassure him. “You might be specially built,” the doctor began at last, his tone heavy with annoyance, “but you’re not finished yet, are you?”

Jimmy didn’t know how to answer. He felt so vulnerable – almost betrayed by his own deficiencies.

“Look,” the doctor sighed, “from what I’ve seen, even if you keep developing, you’ll never be Superman. Sure, you’ll be able to cope with some pretty serious knocks and cuts, and your body will heal itself far quicker than
any normal body. But how can you expect not to bleed if you stick your leg in a shredder? And it’s a fluke you didn’t pierce a major artery with your tooth. Stupid boy. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Jimmy was shocked. No doctor had ever spoken to him like that. Medicine was obviously different in the military. He didn’t want to provoke any more attacks, so he lent his head back and opened his mouth, ready for the doctor to put the gauze back in. The doctor just laughed.

“You expect me to do all that again?” he scoffed. “So you can spit it out and ask stupid questions?” Jimmy sheepishly closed his mouth, anger welling up inside him.

“Listen, son,” the doctor whispered, wagging a finger in Jimmy’s face. “Arrogance is fatal. One day a bullet’s going to bring you down. Believe me.” For the first time his eyes really connected with Jimmy’s and wouldn’t let him look away. “Maybe the first bullet won’t kill you – OK, you’re special. But the second one certainly will. And it won’t be a quick death like it might be for a human. Your body’s as obstinate as your brain. You’ll resist. You won’t want to, but you will. You’ll die slowly.”

Jimmy’s face was burning. He focused on the taste of blood to stop himself crying. The doctor snatched his bag and strutted across the room, scowling at every person in it. He was met at the door by Jimmy’s mother and sister.

“Thank you, doctor,” whispered Helen, shaking his hand before entering the room. Jimmy wanted to be sick. He let a fresh trickle of blood creep down his throat. Then he was pleased to be distracted by the sight of his sister. But something was wrong. Jimmy wasn’t sure, but it looked like Georgie had been crying.

Helen cleared her throat. “Everyone, we have a problem.”

The others waited expectantly to hear what it was; Jimmy felt a lump in his stomach like a bowling ball.

“If Mitchell is NJ7,” his mother continued, “then NJ7 know about Chris and Saffron’s plans at the French Embassy.”

“What?” Stovorsky exclaimed. “How did he find out?”

“I told him.” It was Georgie, her voice clear but meek.

Jimmy was furious. “How could you do that?” he shouted, ignoring the sting in his gullet.

“Calm down,” said his mother. But Jimmy was fuming.

“Did he torture you?” he rasped.

“I was trying to impress him.” Georgie stared at the floor. “It was stupid. Eva overheard me telling him and she was furious. I thought it was because she was jealous of me talking to Mitchell privately. But she was right. And in the end he chose her over me anyway.” The end of her sentence disintegrated as she burst into tears and ran out of the room.