Revenge (4 page)

He couldn’t believe it. With such a powerful assassin inside him, surely he could have sprung up and taken control. He heard a distant calling in his head, urging him to resist. But the fight was gone from his heart. He had no real reason to challenge Miss Bennett. She was one of the few people in his life who had treated him well.

“If we hadn’t told you your brother was dead,” she explained gently, “you would never have agreed to work for us, would you?” Mitchell shook his head. “And that would have been the real tragedy, wouldn’t it? Because, you see, this is where you
belong
.”

“So
you
killed him, not me?” Mitchell asked meekly. A release of energy surged through him – was that relief?

Miss Bennett took him by the shoulder and helped him to his feet. “No,” she replied. “Nobody killed him.”

Mitchell’s relief froze. The news should have made him happy, but it didn’t. Instead, he could feel anxiety creeping through him, stiffening every muscle.

“You came close,” Miss Bennett went on, “but NJ7 doctors are keeping him alive for their own purposes.”

Mitchell felt a jolt of anger. His cheeks grew hot and
his hands trembled slightly. But it was anger at himself. How could he have behaved like this? He was an assassin working for the finest espionage organisation in the world. It was time to annihilate his old feelings. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand tall, looking straight at Miss Bennett. This was his family now.

“You sent agents after me,” he said, holding his voice steady. “Just now, when I was hiding on the Underground, I mean. Why didn’t they bring me in?”

“I knew you’d come back,” Miss Bennett countered, obviously trying to sound casual about it. “You’re not like that other one, Jimmy Coates. I had agents keeping an eye on you just to make sure you didn’t cause any trouble, but I thought you deserved some time to yourself. You’ve worked very hard. Now, isn’t it good that I trusted you?” She smiled a feline smile, then pulled out a mobile phone from her suit jacket and punched a few keys.

“But while you’ve been away, some of us have been working,” she added. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

A few seconds later there were footsteps in the corridor. Then in walked a short man in his mid-twenties, who had a blood-soaked rag clutched to his ear and a look of deep resentment on his face.

“This,” Miss Bennett announced grandly, “is the man who is going to end the Jimmy Coates affair and bring
order back to Britain’s Neo-democratic project.” She held out an arm in welcome. “Mitchell, meet the new head of NJ7’s technological team, Ark Stanton.”

“Yeah,” grunted the man. “We already met, thanks.”

Mitchell couldn’t help laughing. This was clearly a man who liked to be smartly turned out. There’s only so much you can do to look good when there’s blood pouring out of one ripped earlobe. Apart from that, he looked like an artist had sculpted his head out of olive-brown clay and stuck on two flints of slate for his eyes. It was a perfectly proportioned face, even down to the impeccably neat layer of stubble.

“What the hell happened to your ear, Stanton?” Miss Bennett asked.

“Just an experiment that went wrong.” He glared at Mitchell, his Irish accent a little stronger than before.

“I think this belongs to you,” Mitchell announced casually, holding out a diamond earring. Ark Stanton pocketed it abruptly.

It didn’t take long for the man to find some bandages and patch up his ear properly. Then he pulled a mirror from Dr Higgins’ old desk and wiped most of the blood
from his face. His shirt was almost completely red, blending in with the worn, leather worktop.

“Well?” barked Miss Bennett. “What have you got for me? I’ve been told you’re a genius.” Before Stanton could even smile, she added, “I never trust what I’m told.”

In response, Stanton could only sneer. When he started his explanation, there were daggers in his voice.

“As you know,” he began, “Jimmy Coates doesn’t transmit a signal.” He pulled out a pile of papers from a drawer and slammed them down in front of him on the desk. “He was designed that way so that no enemy could trace him. Unfortunately, it means that we can’t trace him either. So I wondered whether, instead of
transmitting
a signal, he could
receive
one. He wasn’t designed to receive signals electronically, but I studied Dr Higgins’ old notes and I believe that if we transmit a series of strong enough images, bombarding every frequency, it could be enough to jam Jimmy’s programming.”

“What do you mean, jam his programming?” Miss Bennett scoffed. “He’ll just fall over and melt?”

“No, he won’t even realise it’s happening, but we could force him to do certain things he would never usually do, or go places without knowing why. All the time, he’d feel like it was his programming compelling him to act. But it’ll be us.”

Mitchell looked across at Miss Bennett’s blank expression. He wasn’t great with computers, but this seemed like technical talk that was fairly simple to understand.

“You mean it’ll be like hacking into him and giving him a virus.” He tried to sound casual about it, but really he thought Stanton’s idea was one of the most fantastic he had ever heard. Miss Bennett glanced at him. He didn’t look back, but couldn’t hide his proud smile.

“Yeah, that’s sort of right,” Stanton replied. His ear may have been bandaged now, but he hadn’t forgotten about his run-in with Mitchell. He glared at him a moment longer than was necessary. “Except that we can’t just email it to him,” he went on. “We need to transmit it through the airwaves and force it on him. So it’s everywhere around him – in the very air he breathes.”

“But we don’t know where he is,” Miss Bennett interjected. “We’d need a transmitter strong enough to cover the whole country.”

“Or a network of transmitters.” Stanton let his full lips curl into a smile. His eyes twinkled like the earring Mitchell had ripped out.

“You look like a man who has something in mind, Ark,” Miss Bennett cooed.

“Mobile phone masts.”

“Yes, of course,” Miss Bennett gasped, leaning back in her seat. Her eyes seemed to go misty for a second
or two and her words were faint. “Even if we can’t find him,” she whispered, “we can control him.”

“The signal might periodically jam some other electrical systems,” Stanton interrupted, “but nothing serious.”

“Like what?” Miss Bennett asked suspiciously.

“The power supply, air-traffic control, TV reception.”

“Air-traffic control isn’t serious?”

Stanton shrugged. “Were you thinking of flying somewhere?”

Miss Bennett stroked her chin for a second, then also shrugged.

“What about me?” Mitchell asked. “Won’t I also, you know, pick up the signal?” He squirmed a little – referring to himself as if he was a radio didn't come naturally.

“Forget about it,” Stanton told him. “You might get headaches or muscle cramps, but the signal’s designed for Jimmy’s psyche, not yours.”

Mitchell nodded uncertainly.

“So,” Miss Bennett cut in, “apart from control over every phone mast in the country, what else do you need?”

“I need to know everything there is to know about Jimmy,” Stanton gabbled, delighted that his plan was being taken seriously. “For maximum impact I’ll need a psychologist, a graphic designer, and a complete behavioural and emotional profile of the target.”

“You need to know how Jimmy behaves and feels?”

“Yes – I need to get inside his head. Will I have any chance to interview the Prime Minister? He would know him best, wouldn’t he?”

“No time for that,” Miss Bennett murmured. “He’s in America.”

She thought for a moment and looked sideways at Mitchell. He always assumed he had done something wrong when she did that, but he held his chest out, not wanting to seem uneasy.

“Eva Doren,” Miss Bennett announced suddenly. “The girl’s known him for years through his sister. Recently she was even living with him. She must have observed something. I knew that girl would be useful to this organisation.” Miss Bennett jumped up, full of excitement.

“What about her family?” Stanton asked. “Are they still looking for her?”

“Unfortunately, yes. They’re a nuisance.”

“What if they find out she’s here and take her away? I don’t want to lose Eva halfway through the project. I’m not so worried about her parents, but those two brothers of hers are angry. I heard they were smart too. They could cause problems. And Eva’s intelligence will be integral to this project.”

Miss Bennett raised an eyebrow. “Is she that clever?”

“This isn’t a joke, Miss Bennett. You know I mean the vital information she can provide us about the target.”
Stanton’s expression was becoming more fraught. Miss Bennett raised a hand to calm him down.

“I’ll deal with them,” she said softly. “Her parents and her brothers. Don’t worry. But wait a minute, if we’re going to control Jimmy, we have to decide what we’re going to make him do…”

Stanton smiled, relaxed once more and leaned forward to conspire closer.

“Actually, I have designed some rough images ready for transmission. I thought this would be the perfect way to implement the Reflex Plan.”

Miss Bennett seemed to freeze. This was the first time Mitchell had seen her remotely close to being dumbfounded, but he had no idea what this ‘Reflex Plan’ was. Gradually, Miss Bennett’s expression melted into one of utter glee.

“Well, that would mean I could assign this young gentleman another mission.” She was almost talking to herself, but Mitchell knew she meant him. Then she leapt up and her words reverberated around the bunker. “Well, what are you waiting for? We can improve the images as we go along. For now – start transmitting the signal.”

“Miss Bennett,” Stanton smirked, “we already are.”

Jimmy knew not to look the checkout girl in the eye. But his new appearance made him seem older than nearly
twelve, and he could think of a much more natural way for a teenage boy to act. When he took his change he lifted his head and smiled.

“Thanks, love,” he grunted. Then he winked and swaggered away.

His hair was bleached blond now, and spiked. It wasn’t inconspicuous, but it was certainly different to the pictures of him on the news. His new look, combined with his confident demeanour, meant there was no way that checkout girl would connect him to the boy everyone was after.

Jimmy moved briskly down the street. Since Zafi had left them, they had spent three days in hiding at the Bed and Breakfast place.
Too long
, Jimmy thought. Despite Zafi telling them to move on straight away, they had stayed put, waiting for Christopher Viggo. But now, even in this short walk back from the corner shop, Jimmy saw threats on every side. Every shadow twitched; every sound was a cocked rifle; every passer-by was an NJ7 agent about to pounce.

Jimmy pulled his hoodie over his head and quickened his stride. His heart picked up its pace as well. There was something wrong. It was in the rhythm of his steps – they had an echo. Somebody was following him. He stopped dead. One step later, so did whoever was following. Jimmy pretended to be looking in a shop window. He studied the reflection, comparing every shadow to what he could remember of the street
behind him. What had changed? He could feel his gut churning, but was it his programming preparing for a strike, or his fear?

A breeze sent a chill through his body. He couldn’t stay standing in the street like that. It was too exposed. Should he run?
I shouldn’t have come out at all
, he thought. Even though it was starting to get dark, he felt far too visible. He knew the others were just as vulnerable to an ambush by NJ7. Any of them could be recognised, but Jimmy was the only one equipped to deal with the danger, except for his mother. She had once been a fully trained NJ7 operative, but she’d already been out for a pile of second-hand clothes, the bleach for Jimmy’s hair and basic food supplies. It was too risky for the same person to go out again and they’d needed to replenish their stock of fresh groceries.

Jimmy’s eyes flicked from side to side, checking for even the slightest hint at the presence of the Green Stripe.
Am I imagining things?
he wondered. Noises, shadows, suspicions – was this the only evidence he had that he was being followed? The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
Get back
, he ordered himself.
Quickly
. His instincts were screaming it.

When he turned to carry on walking, he was sure he caught a glimpse of a figure crouching behind one of the cars.
Attack me
, he urged inside his head.
Please,
attack
. At least if they did, Jimmy would know that he
wasn’t going mad and then maybe this whole thing could be over. But no attack came.

Eventually, he was back inside the refuge of the Bed and Breakfast.

“We’ve got to move on,” he shouted out. One by one the others emerged into the hallway. “This is crazy. They know we’re here. I can feel it.”

“Calm down,” his mother reassured him.

“You’re the one that’s crazy,” added Georgie. “If NJ7 knew where we were they would have come to get us.”

“Somebody was following me out there.” Jimmy looked at the faces of the others. Each of them was more filled with doubt and fear.

“Are you sure?” his mother asked. Jimmy didn’t answer. He knew he couldn’t be sure, but he was almost overwhelmed by that jittery feeling. His programming was warning him that there had been somebody else out there in the street. And Jimmy had learned that when his programming told him something, he should trust it – without question.

“We have to wait for Chris,” Helen Coates insisted.

“Why?” Jimmy snapped back. “Why do we have to wait for Chris?”

His mother was astonished. “What do you mean?”

“If this were an NJ7 operation,” Jimmy went on, “would we wait for Chris? Would we? I’m telling you, it’s the wrong decision. We’re running out of money already, and for all we know Chris might not be back for
weeks. What if he can’t find a doctor who will help Saffron in secret? What if—”

“We have to give him every chance,” his mother cut in. “Otherwise we’re abandoning the one man who’s done most to help us, aren’t we?”

“Is that really why we’re waiting for him, Mum? Because he helped us?” Jimmy dropped the groceries and rubbed his eyes. “What good does it do him if we wait here? Does he need us? Or do we need him? Do
you
need him, Mum?”

Everybody stared at him – Felix and Georgie, Felix’s parents, and Jimmy’s mother. Even the couple who used to run the B&B shuffled down the stairs to see what the shouting was about. Jimmy longed to know what was going on in his mother’s mind.

“What if he doesn’t come back at all?” he whispered.

Everybody in the hallway took on a look of horror. But gradually, Jimmy realised none of them was looking at him any more – they were staring straight over his head.

Jimmy spun round to see a black silhouette in the frosted glass of the door. Before he could move, the door handle slowly turned. With a click, the door opened just a crack, and four fingers curled around the wood. The wind swept in, bringing with it the words, “You shouldn’t leave the door unlocked.”

With that, Christopher Viggo was back.