Halfhead - Страница 58

Ken could feel his cheeks flushing in the darkness. ‘We couldn’t use the trackers in the park, sir, the jammer blocked the-’

‘I don’t like excuses, Ken, you know that.’

Tokumu Kikan smiled and placed a hand on the back of Ken’s neck. The old man was easily a foot taller than him-even with the Cuban heels-and Ken had to try really hard not to flinch as the long, cool fingers wrapped around.

‘I would so hate for this to come between us, Ken.’ Pause. ‘Don’t let it come to that.’

‘Yes, sir. Definitely, sir. I’ll get onto the teams and make sure they know-’

‘Find Hunter for me. Maybe we’ll forget all about your errors of judgement.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

The test tube stopped its dance and Ken watched the liquid inside slide back down the sides of the glass into a thick green pool.

‘And if you can’t…’ Kikan shrugged. ‘If you can’t, well, we always need people to help us test the formula.’ He slipped the test tube into Ken’s top pocket and patted it gently.

‘It’s not goin’ to come to that, sir, I swear it.’

‘Good lad.’ The old man smiled again and turned back to look through the window at Detective Sergeant Jo Cameron pretending to be unconscious.

Interview terminated.

Ken got the hell out of there as fast as his cowboy boots would go. If the old man was pissed at him it might be better to keep on running. Make himself disappear before an assault team broke his door down in the middle of the night and did it for him. Maybe hop a Trans-Atlantic shuttle, set up shop in one of those half-assed redneck republics. Get a new name and a new face and keep his head way down. Not even the old man could live forever…But Ken knew it wouldn’t work, the Newnited States wasn’t far enough: they’d still find him.

No choice then. Have to see this out to the end.

The control room was quiet, the bank of monitors covering one wall flickering from apartment to apartment in the building above. A mousy blonde in a headset sat behind the large, crescent-shaped desk. Ken parked himself on the edge of it and demanded a progress report.

‘Not much, sir.’ The controller hit a button and the monitors flickered, all the pictures merging into one. An aerial shot of Finneston slid past, the distinctive pug nose of a Hopper just visible on the left of the frame. ‘Team two is doing a segment sweep, but they’re not getting anything on the tracker.’

She hit another button and a Network Dragonfly shot across the wall, its navigation lights winking red and green in the rain-drenched night.

‘Team three picked up this blip fifteen minutes ago: the codes don’t match, but.’

‘That’ll be Lieutenant Brand: the one that crippled Arkwright. Forget about her, she’s…’ Ken stopped, remembering the old man’s fingers wrapping around his neck. ‘Second thoughts, stay on her: she’s wired for sound. If Hunter tries to get in touch I want to know.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What about team one?’

‘Spiral search pattern out from Network Headquarters. He was in Glasgow Royal Infirmary for a couple of hours getting his head stitched back together, but we couldn’t touch him: too much security. He took a shuttle to Network HQ an hour ago. Twenty minutes later we lost the tracking signal.’

‘God damn it.’ Forty minutes-bastard could be anywhere by now. ‘You pull in every extra man we’ve got. I want to know where this sonuvabitch is.’

‘There we go.’ Brian’s voice was little more than a whisper, but it still echoed uncomfortably loud in the dark, empty hollow of the shuttlenet tunnel. Up ahead, just visible as a faint semicircle, was an unmarked branch off the main line.

Will swept the green beam of his lightsight up the nearside wall and then snapped it off, leaving them in absolute darkness.

‘Anyone see any cameras?’ he asked.

‘No, sir.’

‘How’re we supposed to see cameras? You’ve switched the bloody light off!’

‘Stop moaning.’ Will reached out, searching for the person nearest to him and finding Constable MacDonald. ‘You grab the back of my harness, Brian’ll grab yours. Single file.’ He inched forward, feeling his way in the dark towards the private branch line.

‘Sir?’ Cat whispered. ‘Sir? What are we going to do when we get there?’

‘Grab the first person we find, ask them where Jo is. Then we rescue her and do a runner before they send in the Marines.’

‘Great.’ She sighed. ‘A well thought out plan. Nothing left to chance. How could it possibly go wrong?’

‘You want a list?’ asked Brian from the back of the line.

‘Would you two shut up!’

They crept on in silence, off the main line into the private tunnel-using the maglev track in the middle as a guide. The tunnel swept away from the Sherman House station and, after what seemed like hours sneaking along in the dark, Will shuffled to a halt. He felt his way back along Cat’s arm to where Brian was holding onto her battledress.

‘How much further?’

There was a click and a faint grey glow lit Brian’s face from beneath. The light was turned down so low it was almost off, but after the pitch black of the tunnel it was like a searchlight.

‘Two hunnerd and fifty feet…Jesus.’ He snapped the screen shut, plunging them back into darkness. ‘We’re right on top of the damn thing.’

‘Right, here’s what we…’ Will ground to a halt, staring back down the tunnel. It wasn’t much; just a faint flicker of light, but it was getting brighter. He stuck his arms out to encompass Brian and Cat and leapt for the tunnel wall. They slammed into the concrete as the light bars on either side of them burst into life, stinging their eyes. A pressure shock-wave made his ears pop and he hung on for dear life as the shuttle screamed past. It decelerated rapidly, settled into a stately glide and coasted to a halt at the research facility’s private station.

On either side of them the stanchion lights flickered out, plunging them back into darkness again. Globes on the station walls blossomed into life and Will had to squint to make out anything more than a harsh, painful blur. Three figures stepped out of the car and onto the platform. The sound of a punchline wafted down the tunnel-just audible over the ringing in his ears-and the newcomers laughed, slapped each other on the back, and disappeared through the station doors.

‘Shite that was close!’ said Brian when they’d gone. ‘My whole life flashed before my eyes…Mind, the dirty bits were good, but.’

Will turned his head and found his face less than an inch away from Constable MacDonald’s. Her hips hard against his, her breath hot on his neck where they were all squashed together against the tunnel wall. The adrenaline of almost getting killed was making this feel a lot more erotic than it should. She smiled at him, licked her lips, and said: ‘My hero!’

‘Yes, well…’ He backed away into the middle of the tunnel. ‘We’d, erm, better get moving.’

Will led the way across to the vacated shuttle and up onto the platform. He pulled his Whomper round, hit the ‘on’ button, and the assault rifle came online with a soft electric whine. Brian powered his up. Then they waited for Cat to get the Bull Thrummer going.

Nothing.

She poked at the buttons and flicked the switches. ‘It’s a different model to the one I’m used to, OK?’

Brian turned it on for her and the siege weapon growled, drowning everything else out.

‘Right,’ said Will, ‘here’s what we’re going to do: single file from here on. I’ll take point; Cat in the middle; Brian, you’re tail-end Charley.’

‘Shite. No’ again.’

‘Yes again. The place will be wired so…’ He dug into Brian’s pack and pulled out a portable jammer. ‘It’s got a range of about two hundred meters.’ He flipped the switch and stuffed it back where he got it. ‘They’ll be able to guess our position as the cameras go out ahead of us, but there’s nothing we can do about that.’

‘Aye there is.’ Brian winked at Cat. ‘Will’s supposed tae be the brains of the organization, but I’m no’ just a pretty face maself.’ He pointed at a big grey box marked ‘DANGER OF ELECTROCUTION!’ welded onto the concrete wall with about a ton of foamsteel. ‘See that? That’s the main power line goin’ in tae the place. Cat, you want to do the honours?’

‘What?’

Brian sighed. ‘Thrum the damn thing.’

‘Oh. My pleasure.’ She swung the massive siege weapon round and thumbed the trigger. Nothing happened.

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed again.

‘It works better when you’ve no’ got the safety on,’ he said, reaching over and clicking it off for her.

‘Thanks.’ This time the tines began to tremble, sticking out behind her like an angry metal porcupine. And then the Bull Thrummer bellowed. Cat rocked back on her feet as a hard blue pulse surged forward, ripping through the foamsteel as if it was made of jelly. Tiny ionized particles of metal and concrete exploded under the Bull Thrummer’s touch, whirling round in a cyclone of powder-grey dust, crackling with static electricity.

Cat McDonald was grinning like a maniac as the siege weapon thundered its way through the power line.

The noise was deafening, amplified by the tunnel walls. Sparks showered out of the ravaged foamcrete and all the lights in the station cracked off. The roar of the Bull Thrummer died away, leaving nothing but the sizzle and fizz of the dust storm, glowing with its own discharging electricity. And then they were back in darkness once again. Tinnitus ringing in their ears.

‘THERE YOU GO,’ Brian yelled. ‘NO POWER. NOW ALL THE CAMERAS ARE ON THE BLINK.’