Revenge (14 page)

With a flick of her arm, Zafi sent Jimmy flying into the air. He hurtled upwards. The wind bit into him and it felt like he’d left his stomach holding on to the side of the building. He landed with a bump, back on the roof. The impact jarred through his body, but he rolled over, unhurt. He had to move.

He wished he could explain to Zafi that there was no way he’d ever work for NJ7. The injustice of the situation tore at his mind. There was no reason for Zafi to kill him, but she wouldn’t listen.

Jimmy jumped to his feet, ready to run, but Zafi’s fingers appeared over the edge of the roof. She’d climbed back up for him.

“You know it’s not that easy, killing me!” Jimmy shouted, backing away. There was a light rain refreshing his face, keeping every sense tingling. He told himself to stand firm, though his knees were trembling. Was it because they wanted him to run or
because of fear? Zafi crawled on to the roof and looked up at Jimmy. There was menace in her eyes.

“By the time this fight is over,” Jimmy went on, “they will have found us. And there’s no way past the security cordon. You won’t kill me and have a chance to escape. You’re trapped.”

Zafi raised an eyebrow and hissed, “One thing at a time.”

Then she pounced. She moved with such well-directed pace that even though Jimmy knew she was coming, he couldn’t get completely out of the way. Zafi was like a tiger, her eyes flashing in the dying light.

Jimmy dived to the side, but Zafi’s hand snatched his collar. She dragged him three metres across the roof, then jumped, bringing Jimmy with her.

Jimmy had no idea what she had planned, but he was in her control now. He’d never imagined that anybody could move as fast as she could. Even with his programming pumping through him at full volume, he was virtually powerless against her. She was the wrong girl to have made into an enemy.

Together, they left the ground, Jimmy dangling in Zafi’s grip like a rag doll. With her other hand she caught the claw of the crane. Jimmy gradually realised how she was going to get past the security cordon – in her situation, he might have done the same.

They swung through the air, the world spinning by in a grey blur. Zafi’s momentum carried them high into the
air. To Jimmy, it felt like being on a huge swing, except that somebody else was in control. Jimmy flailed his legs up at Zafi, like a circus trapeze artist, but she dodged his foot with a graceful sway.

As the crane claw reached the top of the arc, Zafi kicked out, sending them swinging back down on their giant pendulum with even greater velocity. The roof of the building lurched towards them. Jimmy’s insides were churning.
How does Spider-man do this without
puking?
he thought.

He reached out with his legs to try and catch something he could use to pull himself free of Zafi’s hold, but she yanked him closer. Then she let go of the crane.

Suddenly, the world went silent except for the rushing of the wind in Jimmy’s ears. Even his heartbeat seemed to stop. For a few seconds, the beauty of it overcame all of the pain and the terror. This was as close as man could come to flying. Jimmy’s heart swelled with amazement.

It didn’t last long.

They soared over the heads of the agents manning the security cordon, but they were still well below the sights of the aerial patrol above them. Jimmy braced himself. They were falling now, and from a considerable height. What if Zafi tried to use him to break her fall? But she was smarter than that. She had planned her escape meticulously and judged their flight perfectly.

In an alley three blocks away, Zafi and Jimmy plunged to earth. They landed precisely in the middle of a dumpster, specially packed not with rubbish but with polystyrene foam. It was like landing on cushions. Jimmy couldn’t help smiling at Zafi’s attention to detail, but he had no time to waste.

He spat some foam from his mouth and clambered out of the bin. Zafi had lost her grip on him when they landed. This was his chance to escape. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he ran. He was out of the alley in a flash, but Zafi’s steps rang out close behind him.

The street was packed with people – they were outside the security cordon now. Jimmy ducked his head and dodged through the crowds. The noise of the city filled his head, but he filtered it out until all he could hear was the rapid-fire pace of Zafi’s feet. For a second it sounded almost as if there were two people chasing him. He didn’t dare look back. That would slow him down. But he knew that if they kept running, Zafi was bound to catch him. She was faster.

He strained every muscle to put some distance between them, but he knew it was just a matter of time before that chop came down on the back of his neck. At the end of the street he hurdled a low grey wall, hardly breaking his stride. He had made it to Central Park. Grass stretched out in front of him, with a wooded area about 200 metres away. Maybe on the less-even terrain he’d stand more of a chance. Or maybe not.

He powered his way across the field with new determination. His breathing was heavy but regular. His mouth was dry and the rain coated his skin, but he didn’t care. Groups of tourists stopped to watch them, amazed at how fast they were running, but to them it looked like two kids playing games. How could they know that they’d seen two of the world’s most dangerous assassins fighting for supremacy?

Jimmy kept running, changing direction at every opportunity to counteract Zafi’s greater speed. He made it into the wood, weaving between the trees. It was no good. He could almost feel Zafi’s breath on his back. Tears pricked his eyes from the effort, but his programming kept him going, always digging deeper for that extra energy that would keep him going.

Finally, Jimmy dived into the air. His body braced rigid and his arms stretched out above his head. He splashed down into Central Park Lake.

The water was ice-cold, but it felt like wonderful relief. He plunged several metres down, already kicking with the efficiency and power of a turbine engine. After a few seconds he drew a gulp of water into his lungs. It tasted disgusting, almost burning his tongue with its bitterness, but he couldn’t let that stop him. He knew it was his body’s mechanism to keep him breathing underwater.

Zafi followed him into the lake without hesitation. Now there was nothing else Jimmy could do. If she was
faster on land and faster in the water, it was time to turn and fight.

Jimmy flipped over suddenly. Zafi was taken by surprise, but it hardly showed. Straight away she made a dive for Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy spun out of the way at the last split-second and Zafi found herself lost in a school of shocked fish. She shook them off, her hair tangling up around her head, even trapping some of the smaller fish. She glared at Jimmy in anger and for the first time Jimmy began to suspect that he might stand a chance against her. There was only one way to find out.

Jimmy spun round, generating enough energy to lash out a devastating kick. But instead of dodging, Zafi caught Jimmy’s ankle a centimetre from her cheek. Then she used his own pace to throw him off-balance. He was sucked deeper into the water in the mini-whirlpool he’d created. The further down he went, the darker it became, and the thicker this ancient swamp was with reeds and mud.

Jimmy looked up. There was nowhere for him to go now. Beneath him was the bed of the lake. If he went to either side, Zafi could easily cut him off. And above him was Zafi herself, silhouetted against the faint light coming from the surface of the water. With the agility of an eel, she flipped over, raising her arms – she was ready to strike.

Jimmy braced himself, his brain churning. How long could he fend her off before she destroyed him? Just
then, his eye was drawn to something else in the water. It was behind Zafi and speeding down towards her, spinning through the lake like a torpedo. It stirred up the water, sending clouds of silt in all directions.

Zafi hesitated, noticing Jimmy’s expression. She looked over her shoulder. The missile crashed into her. Jimmy didn’t wait to see what happened. He kicked for all he was worth to get back to the surface.

At last his head broke through into the air and he choked up a lungful of water. Every time he did that it still felt like he was going to throw up the lining of his chest. He rolled on to the bank, lying flat on his back for a second to catch his breath. He knew he had to move, but the water next to him was stirring with amazing force. Something was happening down there; something violent. Jimmy peered down. That instant, two figures leapt out of the water, thrashing at each other’s throats.

Jimmy ducked behind a bush, watching as Zafi and her opponent made it to the bank opposite. Zafi’s arms were whirring like propellers, spraying Central Park Lake for several metres around her. But it wasn’t her Jimmy was looking at – it was who she was fighting. What Jimmy had thought at first was a missile when it had pelted into Zafi’s back was now a living, breathing boy – Mitchell.

Jimmy gasped. The two of them were half in, half out of the water. Neither one was backing down, but neither
had the upper hand either. For all Mitchell’s incredible strength and determination, Zafi was moving so fast that only one in four of his blows connected. Then suddenly, he bent double and barrelled into Zafi with his entire body weight. She was knocked back and fell to the ground on the opposite bank.

Jimmy’s legs were twitching. His whole body was tearing him away. The assassin in him would never have waited by the side of the lake for even a second. Yet Jimmy had just enough control. His mind was much clearer now that those images were no longer tormenting him.

Watching Zafi and Mitchell was so compelling that he could hardly blink. Mitchell loomed over Zafi. He raised his fist above his head. Zafi cowered. There was nothing she could do now. In her fear, she looked across the lake – to Jimmy. In that instant, Jimmy saw in her the same expression he had seen back at the Museum. It was the look of someone trapped. Not trapped physically – although Zafi was certainly boxed in by Mitchell’s imposing frame. But it looked as if she herself were the cage, and something inside her was crying out for freedom.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, or why, Jimmy snatched a stone from the ground and jumped to his feet.

“Hey!” he yelled, before he could stop himself. Mitchell turned to look at him. Jimmy bent low and
snapped his arm by his side, sending the stone fizzing across the surface of the water. It bounced on the lake three times, then jumped up, cracking into Mitchell’s knee.

He didn’t cry out, but even at a distance Jimmy saw him wince and list slightly to one side. In that moment, Zafi crawled backwards, out of Mitchell’s reach and out of danger. She looked at Jimmy in disbelief. So did Mitchell. For less than a second the three of them stood absolutely still, sizing each other up, each one trying to work out the motives of the other two. Surely now Zafi must have understood that he wasn’t working for NJ7, Jimmy thought. And did Mitchell realise that he had saved Jimmy from Zafi?

Before any of them moved, Jimmy looked directly at Zafi and called out, “If you need me, I’m a stone’s throw away.” His voice was low and calm.

Zafi smiled, then broke into a sprint. Mitchell hesitated for a second. His face was a picture of confusion, anger and disappointment. Jimmy had upset another of his missions. He headed quickly after Zafi, but Jimmy had no doubt that she would make it to safety – for now.

Finally, Jimmy dashed in the opposite direction. He didn’t care where he was going, so long as he made it out of Central Park alive.

Jimmy was sodden and shivering when he slumped against one of the park’s low outer walls. It was only now that he remembered his radio set. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. It too was dripping wet, but he had confidence that the Icom F-Series would still work after being underwater. He jammed his thumb down on the general alert key and waited.

Traffic buzzed along the road in front of him. There were tourists and businessmen waiting at the bus stop. He overheard one man in a sharp suit ask, “Do you think it’s a conspiracy?”

“I heard it was a lone gunman,” came the reply.

“That definitely means it’s a conspiracy.”

Jimmy deliberately shut out their words. It was the last thing he wanted to hear. He closed his eyes and revisited that moment – Mitchell and Zafi both staring at him. Didn’t they realise they could fight against their programming? Didn’t they
want
to?

Within six minutes a black Lincoln Sedan pulled up in front of him. The back door flew open even before it had come to a complete stop. Jimmy jumped in, not even bothering to shake off the rest of Central Park Lake that was still dripping from his skin and his clothes. Inside the car, pools of water gathered on the black leather.

Colonel Keays was next to him on the back seat, and sitting by the other door was Viggo. The driver was behind a perspex screen, guiding them smoothly through Manhattan.

“It was Zafi,” Jimmy panted, before anyone could ask him anything. “She was going to kill my— She was going to kill the Prime Minister.”

Should he tell them about how close he came to assassinating Grogan? Maybe that was best saved for later. Viggo grumbled something from the other side of the car, but Jimmy didn’t catch what it was.

“Whoever this Zafi is,” Keays croaked, “we can protect you. You have my promise.”

“And my friends?” Jimmy asked. “And Georgie and Mum?”

Keays sighed, looking straight ahead out of the front of the car. “Of course,” he reassured Jimmy. “You’ll all be protected.”

“Looked like you were protecting Ian Coates as well,” Viggo snapped. Keays didn’t turn to look at him, but Jimmy felt him tense up. “I saw your agents rush to him
when he was hit,” Viggo went on. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course,” Keays barked.

“Then why don’t you show it?” Viggo’s voice filled the car. “Ian Coates is here, in New York – he’s right in your lap. Are you just going to let him waltz back to London to carry on destroying Britain, and maybe even trample all over France while he’s at it?” His fists were clenched and between each word his teeth ground together. But Keays was furious too.

“What do you expect me to do?” the American shouted.

“Kill Coates,” came Viggo’s whispered reply. “Then send agents to smash NJ7.”

“There are laws—” Keays replied, but Viggo cut him off.

“Forget laws! What about what’s right? NJ7 is an illegal organisation, and it’s broken the law so many times you could easily get away with it. Anyway, nobody has to find out. Or doesn’t the CIA do covert operations any more?”

Jimmy was stunned. He shifted uneasily. How different this Viggo was to the man Jimmy had first met, the man who believed in solving Britain’s problems without violence.

The windows were steamed up now – it was the moisture from Jimmy’s clothes mixed with the anger in the air. Keays took a deep breath. “One thing at
a time,” he groaned. “I’m not here to run your personal crusade against NJ7. For now I can only protect you.”

“Protect me?” Viggo stormed. “I’m not some kid. I don’t need protecting. Protect them.” He waved his hand at Jimmy and turned to look out of the window. Jimmy felt his gesture like a bee sting. He owed Viggo so much. The man was right to feel angry. The only thing he’d had since Jimmy came into his life was pain and misery.

When Viggo turned back to them there was an even more intense anger in his voice.

“I left Saffron for your promises,” he snarled. “I left her lying there, in a filthy back room in the middle of nowhere, with some dodgy doctor I hardly even know – and she was dying. I left because of your promises.” Viggo choked on his words, hardly able to get them out. “I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Jimmy wanted desperately to say something, to comfort the man or to bring him back to his senses. But Viggo’s passion was overwhelming.

“Protection isn’t good enough,” Viggo went on. “I came to annihilate the people who harmed her.”

Keays didn’t know how to respond. He bowed his head and stared into his lap.

“There are bigger things going on here, Chris,” he said, trying to sound calm. “Diplomacy, politics – there’s a time for everything.”

“Bigger things?” Viggo spat, his rage only building. “Don’t talk to me about ‘bigger things’. Don’t you remember her being shot, Jimmy?”

Viggo’s stare stabbed Jimmy like a syringe full of poison. Of course he remembered, but what could he say?

“Since the second it happened,” Viggo stormed on, “I’ve thought of nothing else. We’d made it to the lift in the basement of the French Embassy, remember? There were dozens of NJ7 agents behind us, but we were going to make it. I really thought we were going to make it. You’d already made a hole in the roof of the lift. And I jumped up first.” He clenched a fist and ground his teeth. His eyes glazed over, but there was passion running all the way through him. “I should never have jumped up first.”

Jimmy felt his heart being crushed under the weight of Viggo’s grief. He watched a tear brimming at the edge of the man’s eye.

“Then you came up next,” Viggo continued. “And you were so quick. I knew nothing could touch you.” A smile flashed on to his face, but it was pure anguish. “She was right behind you. Do you remember the sound of the bullet when it tore through her muscles?”

Jimmy felt sick. He was pleading with himself to do something to interrupt the torture of reliving that event, but Viggo was unstoppable. Even Colonel Keays appeared mesmerised.

“That noise, Jimmy,” Viggo sobbed. “It’s been in my dreams every night. The feeling of her grip going weak when I caught her wrist – I can’t wash it off.”

“Miss Bennett was aiming for me,” Jimmy whispered, hardly able to get his voice out of his throat.

“I know. But it’s not your fault. It’s NJ7. And I have to put it right. I don’t care about diplomacy and politics. I’ll crush them. Even if I have to do it on my own, I’ll ring the neck of every last NJ7 agent on the planet, right up to Miss Bennett and Ian Coates.”

Viggo wiped his face. He took a deep breath, then shouted, “Stop the car!”

“What?” Keays sat up. “But—”

“STOP THE CAR!”

The car slammed to a halt. Viggo pushed open his door, nearly thrusting it into a passing vehicle. Jimmy couldn’t believe what was happening. He looked into Viggo’s face, searching for something to say, some comforting words – anything that would make him stay. But nothing came. The noise and smell of city traffic flooded into the car. It was the perfect mirror of the conflict that wrenched Jimmy in two.
If he’s going back
to beat NJ7
, he thought,
I could go with him
. And yet his body stayed absolutely still.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” Viggo whispered. Then his face was gone and the car door banged shut.

“Drive on, Kez,” ordered Keays solemnly. “Get us back to Chinatown.”

* * *

Jimmy stepped out of the car feeling like a bomb had gone off inside him. As soon as Keays had driven away, Jimmy rushed up the stairs of the Star of Manchuria and the story of everything that had happened poured out of him. But even while his mouth was moving and his words explained the events of the day, his head was buzzing with confusion.

“I can’t believe it,” gasped Georgie when he was done.

“Nor can I,” Felix agreed, his mouth full of dried wontons and his fist rummaging in the packet. “The CIA is protecting me! It’s awesome.”

“I meant I can’t believe Chris just left like that,” said Georgie.

Jimmy’s mother pushed herself up from the sofa and stepped over to the sink for a glass of water. The rush of the tap was the loudest noise in the room. Nobody knew what to say – Georgie and Felix on the floor, Felix’s parents on the sofa. Jimmy was wrapped in a towel and leaning against the radiator.

“So what do we do now?” Felix’s mum asked gently.

“We sit tight and wait,” answered Felix’s dad in his soft, deep tone. “That’s all we can do. If this Colonel Keays says that he’s going to protect us, then we should wait here until he’s arranged where we’re going and how we’re getting there. That’s right, isn’t it,
Helen?” He looked up at Jimmy’s mum. “I mean, I’m not a Secret Service agent, but that seems like the right thing to do.”

“Do you think Chris’ll be OK?” Georgie asked.

Helen Coates just downed her water, keeping her back to the others. She didn’t reply.

Suddenly, the disasters of the day faded into the background for Jimmy. Nearly assassinating the President, hurtling through the air from a hijacked crane, being attacked and chased through Central Park by a French killing machine – at that moment, none of it seemed to hurt quite as much. But seeing his mother’s expression was like digging a spike into his belly. For the first time she looked old. There was a sadness in her face that he had never seen before – even when his father had abandoned them.

“Come on,” said Felix’s mum, “we should all sort out what we’re eating tonight.”

The distraction was too late. Georgie and Jimmy glanced at each other. They’d both seen their mother’s grief.

“That man’s such an idiot sometimes,” Helen sighed at last. “Does he think he can storm back into Britain and bring down NJ7 on his own? He’s going to get himself killed. What a selfish idiot. I can’t let him do it. I’m sorry. I have to go after him. He ran away twelve years ago and I’m not letting him do it again.” She screwed up her face for an instant, then pushed away
her anger. “You two stay here,” she ordered sternly, looking from Georgie to Jimmy. “Don’t move until I’m back or the CIA comes to get you. Hear me?”

“We’ll be fine,” Georgie insisted. “Won’t we, Jimmy?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Whatever happens, I’ll be back here by tomorrow morning,” his mother promised. “OK? Even if I can’t track him down.”

“He’ll be heading for the airport.” Jimmy said. “Go now and you can catch him.”

Helen looked to her friends, Olivia and Neil Muzbeke. She didn’t need to say anything – her expression asked for their advice.

“We’ll look after Jimmy and Georgie,” said Olivia in a comforting voice. “Go. Bring Chris back.”

“OK.” Helen took a deep breath. “I can’t believe he’s making me do this.” She hugged Jimmy and Georgie, then announced, “You’re in charge, Felix. Look after this lot for a few hours.”

Felix saluted, but his smile was uncertain. With less than ten minutes of preparation, Helen Coates was out of the door.