Into the Fire (22 page)

Presently Jimmy came to see me, mini-screen in hand. “There's a substation just along the beach.”

“Great.”

“But—”

“What?”

“Can't find out anything about their generator. Nothing. Whether that's deliberate or not, I don't know.”

“Maybe they don't wanna advertise a weakness?”

“Mm. Maybe,” he replied, doubtfully.

“Even if they have to go to emergency lighting, it'll be something.”

He gave a slightly begrudging nod. “So whaddya want me to do?”

I hadn't wanted to push him—in fact, I hadn't been planning on saying anything at all, but I should've known he'd want to get involved. I hesitated for a moment, but he was way ahead of me.

“I could blow it,” he said, plainly referring to the substation. “Me and Gordie, Hanna too, if she wants.”

“She will,” I told him.

“I don't think Lile's up to it.”

“What d'you reckon they got on the gate?”

He sighed. “Scanners. After that, could be anything.”

“What are they looking for?”

“Weapons, explosive materials, hidden life forms—all sorts of stuff.”

“There don't seem to be many guards.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “which is kind of worrying in itself.”

I admit, I shared his concern. I needed to know more, much more, which was why I had to speak to Gigi.

She appeared that night, a few moments after everyone had zipped up, sneaking in and damn near frightening us all to death. I wasn't sure what she'd have to say, or if I wanted the others to hear, so I took her outside, Gordie trailing on behind us.

“What's up?” she asked.

“You know people on the inside, right?”

Immediately she went on the defensive. “Well . . . kind of.”

“Will they help us get in there?”

“No!” she replied, scoffing at the idea.

“Why not?”

“Too damn scared.”

I paused for a moment, not feeling comfortable about it but knowing I had to tell her. “There's a gang of us going in there, but we need help.”

“Jeez!” she groaned, like we were crazy to even consider it. “You just don't get it, do you? Infinity's like, you know, a dictatorship. Everyone's paranoid. The enemy they fear most is the one within. They're watching each other day and night. No one trusts anyone. The only person who ain't watched is Nora Jagger—she's head of
security and the meanest all-powerful bitch you're ever likely to come across. It's her rule that no one knows their roster from one day to the next—not what they're doing, when or who with. Even if you could persuade anyone to help—and that's one helluvan ‘if'—they wouldn't know if they were going to be in a position to or not.”

I went quiet for a moment. I'd been really counting on this—in fact, I couldn't see Ray going without it. “Could they at least give us information about what we might come up against? An internal breakdown? What's on the gate?”

Gigi shrugged. “Maybe. I gotta get a message to them. I mean, they want to, 'course they do, but . . .” She shook her head, as if no other words were necessary.

“D'you know anything about the generators?”

Again she shook her head, now looking that bit embarrassed. “I'll try and find out.”

“Lena's pregnant!” Gordie suddenly blurted out, I guess wanting to be the first to deliver the killer news.

“
What?
” Gigi cried, her voice filled with such astonishment, such disbelief, I was a little put out.

“You gotta problem with that?”

“No! I just—”

“What?”

“Hey, you gonna jump down someone's throat, take your big boots off,” she said aggressively, reminding me she was an Island kid.

“I just don't see what's so amazing.”

She paused for a moment like she didn't know whether to go on with the subject or not. “How many babies you seen on the Mainland?”

I stared into her grimy little pixie-like face, immediately getting a really bad feeling. “. . . none—”

She never commented, just waited for the information to percolate on down inside me.

“Where are they?” I eventually asked.

“I dunno.”

Again there was silence, I had another question but it was a while before I could ask it. “Is that why they took her?”

Gigi sighed. “Could be.”

I thought I'd felt bad before, but that made me feel a whole lot worse. I mean, was that really what this was all about: the baby's organs? That something about Lena being its mother meant each and every spare part would be worth a fortune?

Whether the subject just got too uncomfortable for her or what, I didn't know, but Gigi suddenly announced she had to go. The last thing she said as she hurried away was to think long and hard before going into Infinity—that there were good reasons no one else had ever attempted it. And of course she was right—and yet, after what we'd been discussing, the possibility that my partner and baby's bodies would be ransacked, nothing was gonna stop me.

I'd arranged with Ray to rendezvous at the First Original Sushi Bar. I got there nice and early, feeling I should apologize to Yoshi for what'd happened with the job in case it'd caused him any embarrassment, but when I tried to raise the subject he just smiled and waved it away.

“I thought you'd gone,” he said, bringing me miso soup. “Found a way through the fires.”

“Not yet.”

“You must.”

“You too.”

“No—this is my home. Where would I go?”

“Back to Japan?” I suggested.

“You can travel in distance, not time,” he said. “I know nobody. Strange country full of strange people.”

He looked at me and we both laughed, each aware of what the other was thinking: that nowhere could be more bizarre than this place.

A familiar limousine drew up in the street and a look of fear immediately collapsed Yoshi's face. “Ray!”

“I know. We gotta meeting.”

He turned and got busy behind the bar, like he didn't want to be seen talking to me, and I took my soup and retired to one of the booths. Moments later, Ray exploded in, followed by his two goons, his swollen legs caged in the tapered superstructure of his wheelchair so that he entered like a launched torpedo. Yoshi went into genial-host mode, offering them free drinks, directing them to my table, though I could see he was still concerned Ray might exact revenge for him paying me for the job and not checking it'd been done properly.

As I expected, Ray had done some research of his own. They'd even gone down to the Infinity building to take a proper look. He wasn't exactly encouraged by what he'd seen, repeatedly cursing Infinity, calling them “fucking animals,” as if protecting themselves from someone like him was about as low as you could get.

“What about these people on the inside?” he asked.

Despite the fact that I'd known the question would come and how critical it was, I didn't have my answer off as pat as I'd hoped. “Yeah, yeah, they're fine,” I said. “When the power goes off, they'll make sure everything stays that way.”

“Everything?” he asked, a little surprised.

“Well, most.”

“General stuff or just security?”

Again I hesitated. “As much as they can.”

Ray sighed, his face starting to redden. “Do you have any idea what the fuck you're doing?”

“Yeah!” I retorted, “they're good guys. I trust them.”

“You've met them?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Ray turned to Van, saying in a barely lowered aside, “I must be fucking insane getting involved with this loser.”

There was a long pause. I knew I was on thin ice and was anxious to change the subject. “I need some explosives.”

“What the fuck for?”

“The substation.”

Just for a moment, I thought that was it: the step too far. His hand actually went to the joystick of his chair.

“We'll teach Infinity who's running this city,” I said, attempting a bit of a rallying cry.

I admit it was pretty basic stuff, but as I knew all too well, the only other thing guaranteed to motivate Ray apart from money was revenge.

He grunted. “Nothing would please me more than to settle with those bastards.”

From there on, it got a little easier. Both of us had ideas on how it should go and we slowly molded them into a workable plan. First we would bust our way in through the gate—which, Ray agreed, looked a little undermanned—then split into three groups. The main one would be a decoy, that would go to the general office, steal any cash available and later, if for any reason things went badly awry, take hostages. Another group, just two or three sharpshooters, would position themselves overlooking the Specials' barracks at the back and prevent anyone coming out. And Van, his sidekick, me and a few others would go to the hospital and grab “the mark.”

“And don't think I won't be keeping a close eye on you either,” Ray warned.

“You're coming?” I said, much surprised.

“You think I'm just going to let you waltz off with her?”

“No—I thought—”

“I still do jobs,” he said, reversing his chair a few feet and spinning it around, though he had no need to demonstrate to me what a formidable weapon it could be.

After we'd worked out our strategy, we went through what equipment we'd need. I could hardly believe my ears. They might not have had access to M1 tanks, but it appeared they could get their hands on just about anything else—even RPGs to bring down the Dragonflies.

“And something for me too,” I told them.

“I thought you didn't do firearms anymore?” Ray commented.

“For this, I'm gonna make an exception,” I said, trying to make light of it, though he knew as well as I did why I wanted to be armed.

In the end, after we'd gorged on Yoshi's sushi, not to mention his special sake—though I noticed Ray gave him the cold shoulder, the decision whether to punish, punishment in itself—we made our way back out onto the street.

“I'll be in touch,” Ray said, driving his wheelchair up the ramp into the limo. “Oh fuck—you don't have a cell, do you?”

I shook my head. “Nonpeople,” I explained.

“Okay, same time, same place. Four days.”

“Four!” I exclaimed.

“There's a lot to organize!”

“I'd hate to go in there and find we were too late,” I told him. “That they've done what they wanted with this woman and disposed of her.”

He thought for a moment, then conceded the point. “
Two
fucking days,” he said, and motioned for Van to close the door.

They swept away in an effortless purr of power and money, leaving me to slowly make my way back to the churchyard. Not that I would've accepted a lift even if they'd offered—I mean, we were the strangest of bedfellows: half-brothers who couldn't bear each other's company, who'd mount a whole comic opera on the other's grave. He thought he was using me and I knew I was using him, but I had no other choice: for even the faintest possibility of getting Lena back, I would've lain down with the Devil and given him a back rub.

I returned a couple of days later to the First Original, still worried Ray might've changed his mind, but everything was fine. He had these explosives for me—this new stuff that looks like a pack of gum but blows everything sky-high, that I hoped Jimmy was familiar with. Everything was arranged for Saturday; he'd chosen the weekend 'cuz he thought there'd be fewer people around, which kinda made sense.

All in all, there were gonna be twenty-seven of us, including me and him, which sounded like quite a formidable team. One thing you could be sure of with Ray; all of them would be seasoned professionals familiar with violence. In fact they'd probably killed many times.

We discussed a few of the finer details, me still having to drag him along occasionally when he sounded on the point of balking, rebuilding the blaze with the tried-and-trusted fuels of greed and revenge. We agreed to rendezvous on Saturday evening at a venue I suggested halfway between the churchyard and Infinity. No way was I gonna give him any clue as to where we were living—who knew how it'd turn out, what repercussions there might be?

Friday night I was that on edge I couldn't sleep at all. If only I could've let Lena know, maybe stretch my arm out across this city and tap on her window, tell her she might be back lying beside me the following night.

I think that must've been the thought I took with me when I finally fell asleep, 'cuz when I woke the next morning, I was that bit disappointed to find my arms still empty. I lay there for a few moments, my head slowly clearing, praying that really had been my last night alone—then noticed we had a visitor.

Gigi must've sneaked in sometime during the night and again made herself comfortable in Arturo's sleeping bag. Don't ask me why, but for a while I just lay there studying her. The flurry of wild hair braided with seagull feathers, the sprinkle of freckles, in that moment she was looking what she was: a child, and with all a child's innocence. That was the thing with Island kids: one moment they were laughing and giggling, appearing almost normal, the next they got this real harsh look about them, like they were a pocket-knife and you'd just flicked the blade.

I sighed to myself, knowing all too well why she'd become a temporary object of fascination: I was thinking about Lena and me again, what sort of kid we'd have. I wanted it to have her looks and character—it'd be cruel if it had anything else. And if it turned out to be a boy, well, maybe he'd benefit from a little bit of my strength, though he wasn't gonna be a big guy, not as long as I was around to show him a better way.

I took a deep breath, unzipped my sleeping bag and slowly got to my feet. The aches and pains of my beating were still there, but restricting my movements much less. I had to get the fire going for breakfast.

“You okay, Clancy?” Delilah mumbled, as I poked at last night's embers.

I glanced over to her and Jimmy in their sleeping bag. Neither of them had their eyes open. “Fine.”

“Sorry I'm not coming tonight.”

I gave a little grunt. “Not really your kinda thing, and certainly not the sort of company you wanna mix with.”

“Just get her. Bring her home.”

I smiled to myself. “I will,” I promised.

Slowly, one by one, the others vacated their sleeping bags. Apparently Gigi was there to help Jimmy—or more likely Gordie—blow up the substation, which was a bit of a worry, 'cuz Hanna was also part of that team and I just hoped those two could forget their differences for one evening.

We spent the day going over and over the plan, making last-minute preparations, weeding out any potential unwanted surprises. Jimmy was going to wear his parka and a bandanna Gigi had lent him to cover up his face, which hopefully would mean he wouldn't get read or recorded anywhere. As soon as it got dark, the four of them would be heading off, making their way down to the beach and getting into position to blow the substation at ten on the dot. After that—well, who knew? It was up to us and Lady Luck.

When they set off across the churchyard—three kids and an old guy with a limp—I got that self-same feeling I'd had when Jimmy and Delilah had gone off to demolish the drugs warehouse on the Island; that I was sending people whose rightful place was at home in front of the screen or playing computer games off on a suicide mission. Thank God Delilah was sitting this one out—though it did mean the two of us were left alone for a while, each trying to reassure the other that everything was going to be fine. The conversation rapidly became uncomfortable until it finally withered away to nothing.

I set off thirty minutes early, making up some excuse about not being sure about finding my way in the smoke and darkness. By the time I reached the rendezvous point, and despite taking it easy, I was still a good fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. I waited in the shadows, expecting to see several limos approaching, but what turned up was one limo sandwiched between two trucks.

I walked up to the limo as the window was sliding down, anticipating Ray, but there were a bunch of guys I didn't know.

“Behind,” one of them said, indicating the following vehicle.

As I approached the back of the final truck the door swung open and there, surrounded by a bunch of real hard-looking sons-of-bitches, was Ray, squatting menacingly in his wheelchair.

Tell the truth, it gave me a bit of a fright—that thing had obviously been converted into battle mode: the framework extended all the way around, armor cladding bolted on, so he looked like he was encased in his own private shell. Furthermore, he was wearing a helmet with a computer-screen visor, night-vision glasses and microphone, presumably so he could orchestrate the whole thing.

Sure enough, he handed me an earpiece. “Put this on. And don't fucking lose it.”

I did as asked, checking out the rest of the gang; no one met my gaze, no one was saying a word.

As we got closer to Infinity I thought it was time to remind Ray he'd promised me a weapon.

Grudgingly he turned to Van's companion and nodded his head in my direction. The guy handed me a laser, a surprisingly modern one, with a heavy power-pack grip, though personally, I've always preferred good old-fashioned bullets.

“Thanks,” I said, just for once happy to be reunited with that reassuring tug on my inside pocket.

We stopped a few hundred yards down the street from Infinity and Ray checked the time again. “Six minutes,” he growled.

Immediately the tension inside the truck began to rise, as if we'd come under starter's orders; everyone was looking all single-minded and serious, checking their weapons and kit.

“You sure you can trust this guy?” Ray asked me.

“With my life,” I told him.

He grunted like there was no one in the world he'd trust with that. “Okay, let's go,” he said into his microphone. “Take it slowly.”

We didn't go as a convoy. The larger truck headed off first, followed by the limo thirty seconds or so later, and we finally moved off another thirty seconds after that. As we turned into the Infinity entrance, the other two were waiting in line and a couple of Specials were lowering their health masks to talk to the guys in the front truck.

I gotta say, Jimmy was every bit as good as his word. We'd synchronized watches before he left and the explosion went off literally to the second. There was a loud
kerrumph!
over toward the sea and the air flashed and rippled out to the horizon and instantly every light in the Infinity building flickered and dimmed.

That was it: the critical moment, the unknown element I'd put so much faith into, that I'd repeatedly assured Ray would give us the edge. Everything depended on what the emergency generator could and couldn't handle—on what Infinity was about to lose. I was hoping for something close to a blackout, panic perhaps, maybe even people deserting their posts, but if I had to choose one moment when I realized our plan was about to go awry, that was it.

Some things
were
extinguished: lights in the main building, spotlights overlooking the lawn, even the gate office was left at the mercy of something close to darkness. At the same time a couple of things came on that weren't there before, and one that I instantly knew meant big trouble.

There'd been this green neon sign flashing as we'd turned in:

However, with the loss of grid power, another sign, pulsing bright red, instantly appeared in its place:

I didn't know exactly what Ray's gadgetry was capable of—what he was seeing on his visor—but suddenly he looked really alarmed.

“Shit! They're scanning us!”

No sooner had he said it, and God knows why, the guys in the front truck panicked and started shooting. The two Specials fell to the ground.

“
No! No! What the fuck're you doing?
” Ray screamed into his microphone. He hesitated for a moment as if not sure whether to go on or not, but when there was no reaction from the office he decided to chance it. “Go!” he screamed. “
Go, go!
”

For some reason, the first truck—our main one, with most of the guys in it—stayed where it was, and the limo was forced to pull out and go around it. We followed immediately, speeding in the direction of the main building with Ray shouting and cursing at everyone. This wasn't the way it was supposed to have gone: blasting our way in, a fire-fight threatening at any moment. Infinity's loss of power and the ensuing chaos was supposed to have been our opportunity to take them by surprise.

Behind us, the main truck still hadn't moved.

“Frank, what the fuck are you doing?” Ray screamed at the driver. “Frank . . . ? What? I can't understand a word you're saying!
What?
”

At that moment, and to our utter astonishment, the truck suddenly blew up, spraying fire and wreckage in every direction.

“
Fuck!
” shouted Ray, yanking off his headset as if he'd caught some of it in his ear.

“What happened?” Van asked.

“I don't know! They got scanned and blown up—he was talking about ‘swelling' or something, then they started screaming—”

The limo in front of us suddenly faltered, coughed and bucked, then came to a halt like it had run out of gas. We almost slammed into the back of it.

Instantly Ray was screaming again, “
Go back! Go back!
” at our driver.

And sure enough, we hadn't reversed more than twenty-odd yards before the limo also exploded with that same sense of erupting from within: as though pressure had been created inside to a point where everything simply tore apart. A piece of heavy debris, maybe the back axle, hurtled straight at us,
smashing through the windshield and killing our driver before he had a chance to move.

“Oh fuck!” Ray wailed.

“Get out!” Van shouted, knowing we were next—that the scan was locking onto us and the truck was starting to tremble, to creak and strain.

The incredible thing was, however it was being generated, it worked on
everything
: I could feel this pressure, this sense that the space inside my body was starting to fill, the bones of my ribcage expanding, my skull starting to crack. The back door swung open and I made a dive for it, but I wasn't alone. The floor beneath our feet moved, a ramp projected straight out into the air and landed with a crash on the ground and instantly Ray shot forward, knocking people aside.

One guy ended up on the pavement, hitting his head with a real thump and lying there out cold, but the others managed to get out safely and started running back in the direction of the gate—however, a group of Specials burst out of the main building, cutting us off with a wall of laser-fire.

For the first time in many years I pulled out a gun and started shooting, and I gotta say, these new weapons are something else. They take all the skill out of hitting your target; you don't even have to worry too much about aiming, just point in the general direction and the software does the rest. Mind you, it wouldn't be a lot of use if you wanted to fire a warning shot at someone. I took out three Specials in the same number of seconds and not one of them was actually in my sights.

There was this loud report only feet behind me—it actually made me jump—and the door from where more Specials had been about to emerge more or less exploded. I turned around and was not in the least bit surprised to see Ray had cannons mounted in the armrests of his chair. That was why that thing was so squat and stable: to combat recoil. He fired again, and this time the foyer of the building took a direct hit. Jesus, perhaps we were going to get out of this after all.

But my optimism was hopelessly misplaced: a large group of Specials suddenly came streaming over from the gate, directing more bullets and lasers our way, and I realized why the gate always looked undermanned: there had to be a tunnel from there to the main building. One of our guys went to the ground, another, right next to me, got just about cut in two.

“Shit!” Van groaned. I thought it was 'cuz he realized we were cut off, that we were on the losing side of things, but then he went down too, that big muscular frame of his as vulnerable as any to a bullet or laser. He must've got off five or six rounds before his face finally collided with the ground and he stopped moving.

“You fuck!
You fucker!
” Ray screamed. I turned, thinking he was angry at the enemy, at how they'd just slain his number-one man, but it was me he was so furious with.

“I should've known! Anything to do with you, you fucking
loser
!”