First Horseman, The (18 page)

The lift halted and the doors opened. He drove out.

‘Fuck me.’ He rolled out into what looked like a giant warehouse. Rows and rows of racking towered up to a ceiling a hundred feet above. He drove forwards, lights flashing on in waves as he sped into the giant space. He reached the end of the aisle and set off down a parallel row. About halfway along he stopped the Segway, got off and went to a rack. He looked at the white sacks. ‘Sugar?’ he muttered.

McCloud opened the control-room door with his pass card and strode in. It was in darkness, save for the bank of screens taking their video feeds. Twelve panels were playing the drama-less events outside and within the building. The screens were empty.

Jimenez, the security operator, was fast asleep in his chair, snoring loudly.

McCloud put on the lights and looked unhappily at Cardini, who did not respond. He went to Jimenez, jammed his foot under one of the chair’s castors, heaved, and Jimenez fell to the floor, waking with a yelp. He looked around, dazed. ‘Oh, Mr McCloud,’ he said, half crouching, ‘you surprised me.’ His eyes focused on Cardini and the hulking outline of Dario behind him. ‘Is anything the matter?’ He picked up his chair awkwardly.

McCloud seemed ready to hit him. Instead he said, ‘Jim Evans, where is he?’

Jimenez scrambled back into his chair. ‘I‘ll check the logs. It won’t take me long to find him.’ He hit some keys on his console. ‘In warehouse five,’ he said. He glanced at McCloud’s furious expression, looked back at his screen and tapped. He pointed up to the top array of three monitors. A light was on off-screen but Evans was not in view. Jimenez clicked with his mouse and the central screen pulled up a picture of him Segwaying down an aisle.

McCloud looked at the screen, then grabbed Jimenez by the arm. ‘Now close the whole system down and delete the last twenty-four hours of files and directories, in addition to the bedroom-floor streams I asked you to shut down earlier. Once I’ve seen you do it, I’m going to give you ten minutes to get your hide out of here or you’ll be sorry you hung around.’

Jimenez typed fast. The screens blinked out. ‘Done,’ he said.

‘Show me.’

‘Here, look, the directory’s empty.’

‘I said kill the directories too.’

Jimenez typed with incredible speed. ‘See? Gone,’ he panted.

McCloud peered over his shoulder. He knew the system: he had trawled the videos on many occasions in the past. ‘OK,’ he confirmed.

McCloud took the pass from around Jimenez’s neck and threw it to Dario. ‘Now git,’ he said, stepping back to give Jimenez a route to the door.

Jimenez jumped to his feet. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, watching Dario from the corner of his eye. He stumbled towards the door, flinching as he passed Dario. He pressed the button that operated the door release and yanked it open, went out and pulled it smartly closed behind him.

‘Should I go deal with him?’ said Dario.

‘No,’ said McCloud. ‘He won’t cause any trouble. Let’s get on down to that warehouse.’

Jim jumped back on the Segway and drove. There seemed to be acre upon acre of food, but a grey shadow drew him to the far side of the space. ‘Holy cow,’ he muttered. ‘Guns.’ He stopped. Each rack had an example gun on display and behind it dozens of boxes or crates. There were rifles, pistols, RPGs, five-millimetre sniper cannons, machine guns, mortars and mines. There were also tons of ammunition. He looked towards the far wall. ‘Hummers,’ he murmured. ‘Military Humvees.’

He ran back to the Segway and jumped on, riding further down the canyon of armaments. He stopped and stared at the line of hardened vehicles. He was standing in an arsenal, looking at the provisioning for the army that would use it. McCloud really was prepared for the apocalypse, ready to hold off the marauding hordes with more than just a gate and a long driveway.

He turned around and set off back the way he had come. The sooner he was out of McCloud’s asylum the better.

There was a distant flash as lighting came on far away at the entrance. He slowed. Someone was there.

Jim was preparing what he would say to whoever was waiting for him by the lift. If it was a staff member, he would try to bluff. A friendly ‘hello’ would be a good opener, and it would soon become apparent whether or not he was in hot water. Or if, after all, no one was there to meet him, perhaps he should stay on the Segway and ride on out of the complex.

The Segway was fully charged and he thought it would take him twenty miles. That was enough to get him to the highway. He accelerated to the machine‘s top speed. He wondered about zigzagging across the huge warehouse, snaking his way towards the lift to appear alongside it, but with the lights switching on and off above him he’d hardly surprise whoever was waiting there for him. If he popped up beside them, rather than riding the last couple of hundred yards in full view, it was unlikely to make any difference to their reaction.

He rounded the final corner and looked down the concourse. There were three figures. Two he recognised as McCloud and Cardini but the third was unfamiliar. He waved at them and, when he was near enough, called, ‘Evening.’

The third character was a thug. Jim could see that at a hundred paces. Not all thugs were bad people but in general they had only one purpose in life: to hurt someone. It had already occurred to Jim that McCloud might react badly to him traipsing all over his secret militia cache. After all, a man planning for the final battle was not going to have the most balanced reaction to someone uncovering his bizarre schemes.

The thug in black sparked a cascade of what-ifs in Jim’s mind. At least Cardini was there. McCloud couldn’t have planned anything too drastic with the English professor as audience and witness; that would be a shade too crazy even for McCloud.

It wasn’t long before he found out how the cards would fall.

‘Pretty amazing place you’ve got down here,’ called Jim, jumping off the Segway and trotting up to them.

McCloud was furious and agitated. ‘Had a good look, have you?’ he said aggressively.

‘Yes, thanks,’ said Jim, and saw McCloud give the thug a nod. It was one of those nods that meant trouble.

The thug moved his hand, like a cowboy bringing his hand up to the pistol handle on his holster. There was no hip holster but the initial movement was the same, even though the hand was travelling inside his jacket for the pistol under his arm. He was watching for McCloud’s signal, and McCloud was clearly enjoying commanding his executioner to step into action. Only Cardini was watching Jim, his eyes cold and his face impassive.

Jim had learnt never to hesitate at such an instant. You had to strike first and without warning. You did not entertain doubt; you did not take a second thought. If there was a chance that a fight would start, you had to finish it before it began.

The thug saw the first blow coming and just got a block in, instinctively reeling back to avoid the next. This was already on its way and landed a split second later, as did the third and fourth. Jim shot five punches into his stomach in the next second, four more to his head in a blur of fists that made even Cardini step back.

The thug collapsed as if he’d been shot. Jim straightened up, suddenly surprised at himself and the savagery of his attack. The man was shaking on the ground, a sickening croak rasping from his mouth.

‘Swallowed his tongue, no doubt,’ observed Cardini, stiffly, as Jim gazed down at the convulsing body.

Jim bent to help the stricken figure – and a blow to his temple sent him skidding to one side. He spun round bent double, his vision blurred, his head pulsing. He took a guard and squinted at McCloud coming forwards at him. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ he said, ‘help that guy, he’s choking to death.’

‘I’m going to beat the crap out of you,’ hissed McCloud.

Cardini was bending down to the quivering figure, whose croaks were dying away.

‘Then I’m going to kill you.’

Cardini wasn’t helping the thug: he was feeling inside his jacket.

‘Then I’m going to burn your body and piss on your ashes.’

Jim was backing away, buying time for his head to clear. His eyes were getting their focus again. A primitive desire to say something bubbled inside him, but he bottled it up and focused yet more tightly on McCloud.

‘Stop this,’ called Cardini, suddenly, flourishing a revolver he had extracted from the prostrate man.

‘Put it down, Chris,’ spat McCloud, moving towards Jim. ‘You ain’t going to shoot either of us.’

McCloud was no longer the infirm old man Jim had met just a few hours ago. Now he was all puffed up and red, like a weight-lifter posing for a competition. His angry face seemed swollen and distorted, veins standing out on his skull.

‘This is madness,’ shouted Cardini. ‘Stop it immediately.’

Jim stood still.

McCloud eyed him with a wicked smile. He stepped forward and swung a right. Jim blocked it with his left and drove his right fist onto the point of McCloud’s chin. The old man’s head snapped back and before Jim’s next blow had arrived his body was already falling backwards, his head twisted to one side at an unnatural angle. It hit the concrete with an ugly crack.

Jim looked down at the lifeless McCloud, then at Cardini, who trained the pistol on him. ‘You’ve killed him,’ Cardini said. He looked at the thug. ‘You’ve killed them both.’ Fear flickered in his eyes.

‘You could have saved that guy.’

‘Yes, I could,’ said Cardini. ‘But to what purpose?’ He pointed at McCloud. ‘That fool, on the other hand, had his uses.’ He strode to McCloud’s body, still training the pistol on Jim, and rolled the head from side to side. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘as I guessed. The body of a forty-year-old held up by the skeleton of a ninety-year-old. You snapped his neck.’

Jim didn’t seem shocked, and a shiver of panic shot through Cardini. He tightened his aim.

Jim took a step towards him. ‘Give me the gun, Professor.’

Cardini drew himself to his full height.

‘Don’t make me have to take it.’

‘Stop,’ commanded Cardini.

‘It’s on safety, you idiot,’ said Jim, darting forward and wrenching it from Cardini’s grasp.

Cardini gasped in pain and hugged his arm to his chest. ‘I wouldn’t have shot you,’ he said, noticing how familiarly Jim handled the firearm.

‘I know,’ said Jim, ‘but guns are dangerous, especially in the hands of someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing.’ And it wasn’t on safety. He flicked a switch on the pistol, then looked down at the thug. He imagined the agony of choking to death on his own tongue. It must be a most horrible way to die.

‘You could have saved that guy,’ he said again.

Cardini didn’t reply.

‘You’re on your own,’ said Jim. He trotted back to the Segway and jumped on, heading for the lift. His DNA would be all over the scene but so would a lot of other people’s. The bottom line was, he had several friends where it counted and if anyone put him on the spot he would simply tell the truth. The set-up would speak for itself.

The lift closed, and as it rose, he thought about the Humvees. They must be able to drive out of the underground complex. The chances were that one of the floors near ground level would lead out of the building. He looked at the lift panel again. ‘G’ appeared just below ‘1’. He hit the button. Was that G for ‘Ground’ or ‘Garage’?

The space beyond was dark. As he stepped out, the lights tripped on. It was indeed a garage, empty but for a dozen black Town Cars. He hopped on to the Segway and drove over to the vehicles. There was a metal box on the wall with a clipboard below, the paper attached to it half filled with logs. Inside the box, the keys were neatly lined up and identified. No need for petty security inside a castle, he thought.

He matched a bunch of keys with a black limo and walked quickly over to it. He got in and turned the key without starting the engine. The petrol gauge flicked up and floated to ‘full’. He took the pistol from his pocket and dropped it onto the front passenger seat, fired up the big engine and pulled out of the parking space, checking the armrest for a gate key. There was a black box in the visor – the key? He drove round the garage, following the tyre marks left by others on the smooth concrete, to the up ramp and a barrier. He edged forward.

It didn’t open.

He stopped. There was a post with a grey device on it. He took the black box from the visor and waved it frantically at the device, then flipped it over and waved it some more. A green light went on and the barrier rose. He sighed with relief, the prospect of Segwaying miles into the dark banished. He accelerated up the ramp and out of a portal in the side of the massive building.

He wondered how far he would have to go before he had a mobile signal he could use. As soon as he was connected to the world he would be so much safer. He drove along the winding road that led to the highway. It seemed interminably long. At the end of it, he remembered, there was a gatehouse. Somehow he had to get past it. He could stick the gun into the guard’s face, of course, but he’d save that for a last resort. Perhaps the transmitter in the car that he had used in the garage would open the gatehouse barrier. After all, the gatehouse was to stop people entering, not leaving. Anyone inside was already trusted. He shook his head. He had to be ready for more problems.

He wondered if he was heading in the right direction. He had been driving for what seemed like a very long time. Perhaps he was on his way further into McCloud’s wilderness rather than back to the highway. He kept going. As long as the road stayed perfect he would carry on down it.

He came round a hilly bend and let out a little cry of relief. There was the gatehouse.

The transmitter didn’t seem to work and the guard was opening his window. Jim buzzed down his. ‘Going out for cigarettes,’ he said. ‘Your boss doesn’t keep my brand.’

‘Sure,’ said the guard. ‘Let me call the house.’

‘At this fucking time?’ snapped Jim. ‘You want to piss me and everyone else off?’ He gave the guard the hairy eyeball. ‘I’m in a hurry to get my fix, so press the fucking button.’ He was thinking about the exact position of the pistol. His hand flew out of the window and he was pointing something at the guard. The guard recoiled, then saw what Jim was holding: a hundred-dollar bill. ‘Take it and do us all a favour.’