The Seraphim Sequence: The Fifth Column 2 (11 page)

‘Yeah, but most people don’t know that.’

‘I know it,’ Freeman said. ‘And you know it. There are no assurances in this world, there are only probabilities. Some people are unable to deal with that. Maybe you’re one of them.’ He drew on his cigarette. ‘And maybe you aren’t.’

Jay shook his head. ‘You know what? I don’t care what they do any more. I just want to get as far away from that shitstorm as possible.’

He didn’t want to go upstairs while Grace was there, so he stepped outside for some fresh air, leaving Freeman to his cooking. He didn’t have the energy or the patience to deal with a high and mighty do-gooder this morning. He liked Freeman but they just weren’t after the same thing. Plus, he had a killer hangover.

He looked down the street at some kids playing with a dog. This place was woefully unprepared for anything the Fifth Column could dish out. The Akhana had been almost wiped clean. What was there to fight for now?

Nothing, he told himself.

After an awkward breakfast, Jay was keen to get out of the inn as soon as possible. He made an excuse to leave and returned to his modest quarters. Nasira caught him there and told him she was running a training session in half an hour, at the basketball court by the church. Jay agreed to be there. He enjoyed the training and, as much as he hated to admit it, he enjoyed getting beaten up by Nasira.

It was a group session today so he dragged Damien along. They made their way from their sleeping quarters down a winding back path that ended at a fork in the road. He could see the church ahead, painted a pale blue and trimmed in white. Behind it was the basketball court. It was open, paved in concrete, with a single basketball ring at the far end.

All he’d thought about on the walk down was Damien and Grace. There was something unsettling about her presence that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Damien meant a lot to him. Jay had lost his little brother not long before he was recruited into Project GATE. His brother had fallen three stories inside a building during a BOPE raid in Rio de Janeiro. Not long after, Jay had been recruited into Project GATE, where he’d taken Damien under his wing.

‘Do you know what happens in the shocktrooper induction?’ Jay asked as they walked toward the church.

‘I didn’t make the cut, so no,’ Damien said. ‘And neither did you.’

‘It sure as hell would screw you up more than an operative induction,’ Jay said. ‘Sophia’s paint-by-numbers deprogramming guide wasn’t designed for shocktroopers. Deprogramming a shocktrooper, that’s next level shit. How can Freeman be so sure she’s clean?’

Damien was looking up at the hills ahead. ‘She seems normal,’ he said. ‘Too normal.’

Jay followed his gaze. He could just make out Grace’s lithe figure in the distance, traversing a steep slope.

‘And that’s enough for you?’ Jay said, stepping in front of Damien. ‘She’s a goddamn shocktrooper. She could snap at any moment. Do you realize you’re flirting with a power keg just waiting to go off?’

‘I’m not flirting,’ Damien said. ‘And I think you mean
powder
keg.’

‘No,’ Jay said. ‘Whatever. But it’s only a matter of time before she snaps.’

‘Could say the same about you.’ Damien shouldered past Jay and kept walking.

‘Me?’ Jay called after him. ‘What are you trying to say?’

He knew what Damien thought. He wanted to make him say it.

Damien looked over his shoulder. ‘Nothing.’

Jay stormed after him. ‘Don’t give me this nothing bullshit. I know why you brought me to Sophia. I’m not fucking stupid. I see the way you look at me every time I come back from a job. Or every time you come over. It’s always this disappointment.’

He took a step closer. He was inches from Damien’s face. ‘You can say it. You’re disappointed.’

Damien didn’t move. ‘I’m not disappointed,’ he said. ‘I’m worried.’

‘Trying to save the day, huh?’ Jay said, pulling back a fraction. ‘Trying to save me. As though I need saving. As though I can be—’

He stopped. He didn’t like what he was saying any more.

‘I guess you prefer it the other way around,’ Damien said. He looked angry now. But it was a different kind of anger to Jay’s. It seemed to smolder through him, slow and measured. ‘Big brother Jay. Trying to save his little brother.’

Jay grabbed Damien by his T-shirt. He clenched his teeth and tried to fight the urge to hit him. ‘Don’t,’ he hissed. ‘Just don’t.’

He released Damien and stepped back.

‘You know, I was happy to help Sophia,’ Jay said. ‘Check out those construction sites. Work together. Like old times. But not like this. Not with that DC guy watching our every move, and Crouching Tiger Hidden Time Bomb ticking away until she goes boom.’

‘What about Nasira?’ Damien said.

‘Nasira has nothing to do with it,’ Jay snapped. ‘But we’re in way over our heads here.’

‘So now you want to rescue me, is that right? You want to save me? Would that make you feel better?’

‘You know what?’ Jay said. ‘I was happy doing those pissy jobs in those shithole places. I think all along it was
you
who wanted more. You’re always talking about how you want a normal life with none of this crap, but it’s all a lie. To yourself. What you really wanted was
this
.’

Damien said nothing. He stood there, his gaze firmly on Jay. His expression gave little, but Jay could see frustration shimmering in his eyes. He knew Damien enough to know the accusation had stung.

‘Don’t try to pin this on me,’ Jay said. ‘You wanted this.’

‘Enjoy your training,’ Damien said. ‘I’ll catch up.’ He walked right past the church and started up the hill they’d seen Grace climbing.

Jay shook his head. He needed to get Damien out of this before things got too crazy.

***

Nasira, Big Dog and Chickenhead were already on the basketball court.

‘Nice of you to join us,’ Nasira said. ‘Warm up, then come on in.’

Jay begrudgingly did a few laps around the court, threw in a few token stretches only when Nasira was looking, and then included himself in whatever they were doing—hopefully the cool stuff.

Nasira paired off Big and Chickenhead, then made Jay stand in one spot. Her fist moved slowly toward the side of his face. He saw it coming and, matching her speed, moved to avoid it.

‘Keep it minimal,’ she said.

He shifted his head and her fist went over his shoulder. Her other fist came in slowly, aiming for his stomach. Everything was at half-speed. Jay rolled his eyes and shifted his arm just enough to knock her arm off course. She kept moving it past his torso as though it was really full speed and Jay was stuck in a slo-mo replay. He stepped away, this time at normal speed.

‘This slow-motion shit drives me crazy,’ he said. ‘It’s painful.’

Nasira was treating him like a baby and it was getting annoying.

‘There’s a reason we train at this speed,’ she said.

‘It’s so basic. Feels like a waste of time.’

‘You can’t handle me at full speed.’

Jay grinned. ‘Oh, I bet—’

Nasira closed her fist. ‘Don’t even try to finish that sentence.’

Chickenhead, overhearing her retort, laughed. Jay ignored him.

‘Your brain takes this on at slower speeds and can apply it at any speed,’ she went on.

‘I can see your strikes coming a mile away. It’s boring.’

‘I’m teaching you to not react with your mind,’ she said, circling him. ‘Not with planned combinations. I’m trying to get your subconscious—which I’ve been training intensively for the last two weeks—to take over.’ She stopped in front of him. ‘I’m teaching you to act without anticipation.’

Jay put his hands on his hips. ‘Why?’

‘To free your mind.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever you say, Morpheus. So what’s up next?’

‘Guys, fall in,’ she said.

Chickenhead and Big Dog stopped their own slow-motion drill and hustled over.

‘Chickenhead, you’re going to attack Jay. Not too fast, but fast enough,’ Nasira said. ‘Big Dog, I’m attacking you. Two teams of two.’ She turned to Jay. ‘Now, you’re going to defend yourself during this exercise.’

Jay rubbed his hands together. ‘Sounds legit.’

‘But at the same time you’re going to watch the other team. You’re going to watch Big Dog. Analyze how he moves, how well he defends himself, how he walks, how he reacts, how he interacts with me in combat. And you need to do this while defending yourself. Understood?’

Chickenhead immediately paired off with Jay while Big Dog sided with Nasira.

‘Hold up,’ Jay said. ‘You want me to watch Big Dog
while
I fight Chickenhead? At the same time? No shit?’

‘At the same time,’ Nasira said. ‘No shit.’

Jay turned his attention to Chickenhead. ‘Right.’

‘No problem, mate,’ Chickenhead said.

‘Yeah,’ Jay said. ‘No problem.’

Chickenhead took three steps and was all up in Jay. He moved desperately, tense, dealing with each of Chickenhead’s blows. Everything that Nasira had taught him went out the window as he fell back on his Project GATE mixed martial arts training. He felt his cheeks flush when he realized he’d hardened up like a goddamn mannequin in a department store. Relax, you idiot, he told himself.

Chickenhead threw in a hook punch. They seemed easy enough to avoid, but the hook made it difficult to judge the timing.

Everything slowed down. Jay brought his elbow up, brushing softly across Chickenhead’s forearm. He sidestepped a fraction and dropped his elbow inside Chickenhead’s. He took Chickenhead’s arm with it, opening up his face for a strike. He almost moved to punch him—nothing too hard—then remembered he was supposed to be watching Big Dog.

Big Dog was low to the ground, his muscular legs visible below his shorts. Jay was actually impressed at how spry the guy was. He managed to cleanly avoid most of Nasira’s strikes. He didn’t even need to—

Chickenhead’s fist clanged against Jay’s teeth. It was a light strike, but light popped in his vision. The blow stunned him, but he recovered quickly, kept his footing and prepared himself for Chickenhead’s next attack. Chickenhead hooked his boot under Jay’s knee and threw him sideways. Jay stumbled to keep from falling over, and when that failed he dropped into a shoulder roll behind Chickenhead. When he returned to his feet, Chickenhead was on him again.

He tried to look over at Big Dog. Nasira was throwing in a few punches at him. They seemed to slip in from nowhere. By the time he watched for Big Dog’s reaction, it was too late and it had already happened. Her shoulders, her arms, nothing in her body movement gave early signals that she was punching.

Jay moved his head to one side, narrowly avoiding a punch from Chickenhead, who was now wearing his trademark mischievous grin again. Jay didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of another hit. He brushed another of Chickenhead’s blows downward and stepped around him, kept moving, watching Big Dog defend against Nasira at the other end of the basketball court.

Big Dog weaved around Nasira’s blows, stepping out of view. She was in the way and Jay couldn’t see. Chickenhead pinned him down again. Jay circled around so Big Dog was in his peripheral. He focused on Chickenhead’s attacks, then focused on Big Dog, and then on Chickenhead again.

Before he knew it, he was focusing on Big Dog entirely. Chickenhead advanced. This time, Jay’s body moved before he could issue commands. Chickenhead’s fists rained in and Jay was already moving around them, sliding them fractionally off course or redirecting them somewhere else. Chickenhead’s grin faded and his forehead creased with concentration. He started using his elbows and legs to score a hit.

Jay focused on Big Dog, taking note of his movements and his style of defense. He moved in small spurts, never standing still for too long. He was lower to the ground and defended himself predominantly with hooked arms and tightly bunched fists.

Chickenhead’s foot caught Jay on the inside of his knee. Jay twisted inward, carrying his torso right into Chickenhead’s perfectly placed fist. Stupid move, Jay thought. Chickenhead’s grin returned.

‘Look sharp, mate,’ he said.

Jay absorbed the fist as Nasira had taught him. He tried to return his attention to Big Dog’s fancy footwork but Chickenhead was barraging him with strike after strike, many of them decoys for follow-ups that stung him a fraction of a second later. Bastard. Jay couldn’t see them coming and watch Big Dog at the same time. He’d only taken one breath when he’d been struck by Chickenhead four times.

‘OK, take a break,’ Nasira said.

Jay’s cheeks burned. She’d noticed him get overwhelmed. And she probably hadn’t noticed how well he was doing just before that.

‘You did well,’ she said.

Jay shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘The point isn’t how well Chickenhead beat you up. It’s whether or not you were able to focus on something else. Tell me about Big Dog’s performance.’

‘It was good,’ Jay said. ‘He moves in small steps, keeps his fists moving. He looked calm and never lost his shit.’

Nasira nodded. ‘You had a moment there when you were watching him,’ she said, ‘and you were still able to defend yourself from this big guy.’

‘Well, hit or miss,’ Jay said. ‘No pun intended.’

‘Today you’ve learnt two very important things,’ Nasira said. ‘How to fight without anticipation, and how to fight unconsciously.’

‘You can’t really do one without the other,’ Chickenhead said.

‘They go together,’ Nasira said. ‘Once you can do that, it all falls into place.’ She put her hand on Jay’s shoulder and gripped it. ‘When you’re attacked, you just move, you don’t think. And since it ain’t some inflexible technique, you’re drawing from the
principle
of movement. Your brain don’t need to do as much. So you react quicker. And smarter.’

Without warning, she placed her other hand under his knee and knocked him off balance. He pivoted outward and then moved in, his hand clamping over hers. One slight movement and he could break her wrist.

She smiled. ‘Nicely done.’

***

Damien spotted Grace in a field, edging closer to a pair of wild horses. He headed in their direction, watching as she ran her hand lightly over one horse’s brown coat. It glistened in the morning sun. The horse watched her with a careful black eye. Damien reached the edge of the field and the other horse bolted. Its friend moved a second later, leaving Grace to shoot him a disappointed stare.

He thought of what to say as he approached her. She didn’t turn away, which was a good sign. She was wearing a Bob Marley T-shirt and faded blue jeans tucked into brown hiking boots. He stopped twenty feet short. She didn’t say anything. It looked like she was still deciding whether to talk to him.

‘Hi,’ he said, slightly out of breath.

‘Is socially awkward your default setting?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘On important occasions.’

‘I’m flattered.’ She started away from him, through the field. ‘Let me guess, you’re here just to talk, right?’