Warhead (18 page)

If she has harmed my boy, she will surely die a long and painful death.

Yes. He nodded to himself, eyes glowing in the darkness of the cockpit.

Carter landed with a crunch that the Manta could only just absorb. Several struts buckled, and as Carter’s feet hit the ground the Manta listed helplessly to one side.

Carter’s mouth was set in a grim line of determination.

Slowly, he walked forward over ground he knew well, adrenalin counteracting his deep weariness. This was a land he had made his own; a home he had created as a base, a haven of stability for his child, far away from the evils of the world. Or as far away as a father and his son could possibly retreat...

The sea surged to his right, hissing against the beach and thundering against the rocks. He moved up the narrow path towards the house—then paused, head cocked, eyes alert and scanning.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

Carter moved to the front door and paused — suddenly afraid of what he might find. He became aware of an absence.

Samson. Where was his dog? The mutt should have been there, bounding around and wagging his tail.

Slowly, Carter eased open the door and peered into the house’s cool interior. He listened, but could hear nothing. He crept in, moving carefully, and his ears picked up a soft whimper. The muted sound of an animal in pain ...

Resisting the urge to call out, Carter moved to the kitchen where he found Samson lying, his head on his paws, in a pool of blood. Carter dropped to one knee, smiling softly as Samson’s tail gave a half-hearted wag. He peered into the great sad eyes of the chocolate Labrador.

‘You been in the wars, old friend?’

Samson licked his master’s hand, and Carter quickly examined the dog. The animal had been shot, in the shoulder and from the front—which meant that Samson had been wounded while attacking whoever had levelled the gun. He ran his hand gently across the dog’s flanks, feeling the buckle of broken ribs.

‘Oh, Samson!’

Carter stood quickly, noticing the disarray. Dishes lay strewn and smashed, there was a knife on the floor, and a footprint was visible in Samson’s spilled, congealing blood. So there’d been a struggle—but
after
the dog had been shot...

‘Joe?’ he bellowed. ‘Joseph?’

Carter moved through the house at speed, searching each and every room. There were no more signs of struggle—but his child, his boy, his son—Joseph was not there.

‘Maybe Nicky took him somewhere safe,’
came Kade’s sardonic mewl.

Carter ignored him. He filled a bowl with water, and checked Samson more thoroughly. The dog was seriously dehydrated and lapped at the water thirstily ... Carter supported the animal’s head, then pushed a blanket under his great velvet ears and fixed a pad over the bullet wound, sticking the tape clumsily to Samson’s fur. The wound had already clotted but Carter did not know whether Samson would survive. Pulling free his medical pack, he hurriedly gave the dog an injection of antibiotics, a K7 stimulant, vitamin enhancers and a shot of diamorphine. Samson put his head on his paws and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

And it was only then that Carter saw it. An ECube. A silver ECube, sitting innocently on the kitchen work surface.

Carter glanced around. Then he reached out and felt the tiny machine buzz in his fingers. He initiated the ECube and it spun open to reveal the tiny eye of a projector unit. Carter pointed the device at the wall and waited impatiently. A circle of light appeared, framing Nicky’s face.

She smiled. ‘Sorry, Carter,’ she said, shrugging and tilting her head to one side.

The camera drew back to show two masked Nex binding Joseph with raze-wire. It cut into the young boy’s wrists and blood dripped to the carpet. He was shouting, and one of the Nex punched the five-year-old child in the face, silencing him with shock and sudden pain. Then they wound duct tape around his head, covering first his mouth and then his eyes. Joseph continued to struggle futilely, tears streaming down his face from under the thick grey tape.

Nicky strode forward and reached over. She held the camera as one would hold a lover’s head, with both hands, and with a tender look on her face she whispered into it, ‘I’m sure you have many questions which burn you with the need for answers. I’m sure all manner of emotions are flowing through that thick Spiral skull of yours ... predominantly anger, and hatred, confusion, and a need to kill. Yes, I
understand
.’ She breathed deeply. ‘But, dear Mr Carter, all I can say is that you need to sit still... and you need to wait. We will contact you, and if you don’t do what we ask ... well ...’ She smiled, her eyes blinking slowly, and then moved away from the camera to reveal the dark-robed bulk of Durell. Durell, there in Carter’s house.

A claw reached out and cupped Joseph’s chin.

‘No,’ moaned Carter, his tongue licking at desert-dry lips.

The projection ended, the silver ECube folding in on itself and sitting innocuously on the worktop. Carter picked up the small device and launched it with a yell of rage against the wall, where it bounded off and skittered across the stone-tiled floor, spinning slowly to a halt. He glared at it with loathing.

Carter lifted his M24, then turned slightly as he spotted—

The bottle. Whisky. Lagavulin. Just one sip. A burning taste to clear his head, to make the world a good place again. It would taste good. It would help him. It would end his pain. Yeah, he thought, one sip would lead to five sips, a dram to another dram to a bottle and Joseph would die lost and alone and Carter would condemn himself to hell.

Just one ... He reached out. The amber Lagavulin swirled enticingly within its dark glass container. Carter threw the bottle across the room, where it smashed into sharp-edged shards and left a spreading stain across the terracotta tiles.

He met Samson’s gaze. The dog was panting heavily, his eyelids drooping under the effects of the drugs that Carter had administered. He knelt, refilled the bowl with water, and said, ‘I’ll be back soon, buddy. Don’t go anywhere.’

Samson whined. Carter nodded, stood, and moved towards the back of the house. At the rear there was a narrow doorway, camouflaged by hanging coats and other wooden panels. He placed both hands against the smooth surface and pushed gently A panel slid back to reveal a dark hole through which Carter squeezed before descending a flight of narrow steps into blackness. A light appeared, a solitary bulb that could be switched on and off by a simple chain. And then came a metallic grating sound—two alloy panels sliding neatly apart to reveal Carter’s secret weapon stash.

Five minutes later, the Manta lifted on its abused jets and hovered for a moment over Carter’s house. Then it banked, leapt forward and howled down the coast until the town of Paphos surged into view. At the heart of the Old Town, by the low sea wall, stood the Sentinel Tower.

The Manta thundered towards the tower at only twenty feet above the ground, sending people running, screaming, and causing Nex patrols to stare up, guns hanging from limp hands—

At first hand, Carter had seen these towers withstand a nuclear blast. To attack their exteriors was futile—and Carter was no fool. But he had often wondered what kind of damage a missile could do
inside
the protective shell? After all, he had seen the leaked blueprints ...

A single K-TF8 missile hissed from its pylon, its rocket igniting as the Manta banked suddenly and skimmed the tower to the right with only inches to spare. The missile flew low over the ground, whipping past the sentries and patrols of Nex gathered at the entrance to the building. It ploughed straight through the welcoming open doors.

There was an instant of silence and then a terrible roar shook the Sentinel Tower. A billowing cloud of fiery gas erupted from the interior like a volcanic explosion, melting the interior glass partitions instantly and pulverising the twenty or so JT8s and Nex standing outside the tower; the savage power of the blast smashed them outwards like skittles, tearing their arms and legs off.

Carter brought the screaming Manta around in a tight circle at twenty feet above the ground, so low as to make the tower’s SAM defences useless. He landed amid the shattered remains of the buckled paving flags, and leapt down from the cockpit, M24 in one hand and 9mm Browning HiPower in the other. He strode towards the blasted doorway, the fire-crisped opening smeared with melted Nex fat. Flames still burned, and smoke rose in a black column. A Nex sprinted from the fire, its clothing burning and its mouth open in a silent scream. Carter fired and a bullet cannoned into one side of the Nex’s head, exiting in a shower of skull and brains from the other. For a moment its legs kept running, then it collapsed in a tangle, slapping face-first to the ground.

Carter, his face a grim mask, moved into the charred devastation of the entrance hall. An automatic sprinkler system sprayed foam over the leaping flames and made the floor treacherous with its frothing slime. More Nex sprinted into view, three lithe black-clad figures. Carter’s gun was already blasting as they appeared, fire blossoming from its scorched barrel as bullets slammed into Nex flesh, sending bodies sprawling.

Carter moved across the entrance chamber, halted by some steps and listened for a moment, head tilted. Sirens wailed, and he could hear the pounding of chopper blades. Gunshots echoed. Carter saw through the smoking hole of the building’s entrance a group of civilians kicking a JT8 on the ground. Someone levelled a double-barrelled shotgun at the man’s head and gave it both barrels, spreading bone fragments and the slop of pulverised brains across the ground in a sudden splash.

The word leapt into Carter’s mind.
Riot.
The people had merely been waiting.

And Carter had been the trigger. But it wouldn’t last for long. These things never did. What was important, however, was that Carter was given precious seconds.

With a grim smile he spun right and disappeared down the emergency-lit staircase, his expression grim, cold, determined.

The only sounds were the soft hiss and drip of the sprinkler systems from far above. Small groups of Nex had attacked Carter three more times—and he had cut them down without a flicker of emotion. You want to fuck with me? he thought. You want to threaten my boy? Well, if it’s death you’re looking for, then that’s what I’ll deliver ...

He crouched by a support pillar and planted the HighJ. The small unit gave a tiny flicker of blue light as it integrated with his ECube; then the light went out.

Carter strode purposefully through the surreal subterranean vaults of the Sentinel Tower. His recklessness, he knew, could easily get him killed or maimed. But by some incredible twist of fate he had survived. So far.

Again, he dropped to one knee and positioned another pack of HighJ. Tiny mechanical jaws burrowed into concrete supports. The blue glow indicated integration and a complicated detonation sequence.

Carter heard a faint sound and stood smoothly, his Browning pointing around in the gloom. The missile strike had disabled the tower’s main power subsystems.

Carter watched the Nex glide into view. He raised his gun.

The Nex heard him. It dived to the right and a bullet shattered a chunk of concrete next to Carter’s ear—so close that he felt the shower of shards sting the side of his head. Carter did not flinch—instead, his Browning began to bark, bullets streaming from the weapon as the Nex moved inhumanly fast. Carter slid behind the protective slab of a pillar. He pulled free the final HighJ unit. Just this one and the detonation sequence would be complete. A sheen of sweat on his brow, Carter hefted the HighJ thoughtfully.

‘Fucking Nex,’
came Kade’s soft voice.
‘Getting in the way of you and your destiny!’

‘Destiny?’

‘
Destruction!’

Carter could feel his energy waning, exhaustion finally creeping through his abused muscles, teasing out his last remaining dregs of strength.

Carter ground his teeth. They had his son. He
had
to push on ...

A sudden click inside his brain kicked him into focus. There wasn’t one Nex, but three, and they were trying to encircle him. The first Nex he had seen was the decoy—shit, he thought, in a few seconds—

He sprinted through the gloom towards a huge bank of thick piping against the far wall. Shots suddenly rang out behind him as he ran, filling the vault with an incredible echoing din.

Carter dived, connecting with the solidity of the wall with a hard thud. One fist still clenched the HighJ and he slammed it against the piping. It flickered blue and Carter felt the rattle of his ECube against his chest, confirming integration as he once more pictured the Sentinel Tower’s blueprints in his mind.
Ready.

He peered from behind the pipes, eased free a smoke grenade, pulled the pin and sent it spinning, clattering across the chamber. A billowing grey cloud rolled up and around, curling against the ceiling and spreading. Two Nex stumbled choking from the smoke and Carter cut them down in a moment. They lay twitching, one with a leg kicking spasmodically as it choked on its own blood, its gloved fingers clasping feebly at a destroyed windpipe through which it could no longer take in air. Carter scanned the smoke, then moved forward cautiously.

‘
There were three,’
came Kade’s unbidden intrusion.