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PrologueLife In A DayTwo months gone and it was like they had never lived anywhere else. Jack is woken at seven-thirty in the morning, his cover mum, Sophie, hammering on his bedroom door and demanding that he shifts his lazy arse out of bed. Cereal is waiting on the kitchen table along with bowls and spoons; there is fruit juice and a loaf of bread in the fridge if you want anything else. Jack is barely stumbling out of the shower and into his school uniform when it’s time to leave for school. Sophie is the unfortunate parent stuck with taxi duties, Bradley Lancaster claiming that because he’s ‘senior’ he gets a morning lie-in. Screams of “Hurry up!” and “We’re leaving!” ringing in his ears, Jack stuffs a cereal bar and apple into his pocket and sprints into the lift, tie still dangling uncompleted around his neck. The good thing about living so high up in a Hong Kong skyscraper is that you have plenty of time to deal with these things. Then it’s in the car and on the move, Sophie driving like a professional rally driver under the influence of alcohol and Class A drugs. So many horns blare that you could have been standing in the middle of a brass band. Jack and his three siblings – fellow MI6 junior agents Ella, Fred and Toby – are thrown about like rag dolls in their seats and Jack is secretly glad that he didn’t have anything to eat before clambering in. But they make it onto the highway and then it’s to the Hong Kong International School in Repulse Bay, one of the most famous and prestigious establishments in Asia. At the gates they are greeted by four children, all of the same age. They are Charlie, Charlotte, Kayden and Megan. But for the purpose of the mission, they are really the children of Calvin King. He’s the real target. He’s the one this mission is all about. Calvin King is the Head of K.O – a major retail organisation that specialises in the marketing and delivery of illegal weapons and black market goods. Heard of Apple? Heard of Coca-Cola? Well, in terms of annual profit, these guys make nearly as much. Then school starts and it’s into lessons... Yawn, quite boring for the next few hours. That is until Charlie draws a penis on the classroom whiteboard when the teacher is out of the room and she returns to gasp horrifyingly at the image and to find both Charlie and Jack laughing their heads off. Afternoon detention. No big deal. So while Jack and Charlie throw paper balls at each other in an empty classroom, the school bell rings and everyone else leaves. Ella and Charlotte are talking about the new range of clothes from Dolce and Gabbana, the latter promising to take them both on a shopping spree as soon as they hit the local shops. Kayden is taunting Fred about how he’d thrashed him at a multiplayer Call of Duty match the evening before, their minds already beginning to turn to today’s choice of video game. And Megan is explaining to Toby the best method for solving quadratic equations, Toby doing the best he can to prevent his brain from melting. Detention ends at half-four in the afternoon, Charlie sticking his middle finger up at the teacher on duty when their back is turned and hastily leaving with Jack before anyone spots. Then it is back to the King’s luxury penthouse on the twenty-fifth and last floor of Tsui Tower for rushed homework and a spot of dinner. All the other teenagers are already there, Megan constantly complaining that she can’t concentrate on her English essay because of all the racket coming out of Kayden’s PS3. Too bad he’s playing Guitar Hero. Calvin King’s wife, Olivia, joins them at the dinner table. The Head of K.O himself is busy in his study, only making it to the table when everyone else has finished and is starting on pudding. He doesn’t talk about his work. But perhaps that is because no one dares ask him. Jack, Ella, Charlie and Charlotte leave soon after. Their destination is the Golden Sun, an exclusive clubhouse in downtown Kowloon where only registered K.O members are allowed entry. That includes Jack and Ella. Charlie and Charlotte are exceptions, but because their father is the guy that actually owns the place, no one is going to argue. They arrive at roughly eight o’clock, half an hour after the doors first opened. Don’t want to appear overly keen. Inside is a large socialising area complete with a well-stocked bar, tables and chairs; the walls lined with an impressive collection of old-fashioned weaponry. Playing cards is the most popular entertainment among the members and several games of blackjack and poker are already underway. For the millionth time, Charlie immodestly reminds Jack of how he’d thrashed everyone with a royal flush during their very first game. Leading on from the bar is a games room containing a large collection of games tables (football, hockey, snooker), several dart boards and, most unusually, a full-sized boxing ring. Jack smiles. For the billionth time, Jack boastfully reminds Charlie of how he totally floored him with a punch to the head during a thirty-second bout. The final room of importance (toilets not included) is upstairs on the secret second floor. This is the conference hall, the place used when urgent business needs to be discussed with a large number of people. So far Jack has only been up there a handful of times, the first when he’d been officially accepted into the organisation. Just one week later, Ella had been called up there as well. Charlie goes up to order the drinks from the bar while the others all find a free table and sit down. The beers come quickly, Charlie already making swift progress through his own glass before they hit the coasters. Then they simply talk. There is never any trouble about not knowing what to say. If one falters, another just picks up from where they left off and the more they drink, the more easily the conversation seems to flow. No such problem for Charlie then. And on the odd occasions that they do run out of things to say, it isn’t as if there is any shortage of other things to do. Dance, pool, cards… As it turns out, Charlotte is a natural at solitaire – a game as much about patience as skill and strategy. For that reason, Charlie fails almost every time. The only time the group are ever separated for a prolonged period is either when Jack or Ella are called over by one of the senior members to discuss upcoming deliveries that need completing or when Charlie goes off for his daily fifteen-minute sparring session with Travis. It had taken a lot of persuasion from Jack before Charlie had eventually agreed, but after just a few further days of reluctance he’d quickly got into the swing of it. Quite literally, in this case. His movement during a fight had now vastly improved, as had his defensive work, while he’d once stunned Jack with a perfectly executed roundhouse kick when the others had come to watch. While he still lived and breathed alcohol, karate had now become his second passion and had set a speculative target of one day being able to beat Jack in a proper bout. If only to shut him up about all the taunting. But although Charlie was rapidly improving – something Jack would never have believed if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes – he wasn’t beginning to sweat just yet. He’d be in a retirement home by the time that Charlie got the better of him. During these brief periods that Charlie is absent, and when Ella suddenly finds her shoelaces and the wooden floorboards to be extremely interesting, Jack will lean across the table and kiss Charlotte over their drinks. To be honest, he didn’t quite know how it had happened, but at some moment over the past few weeks Charlotte had sort of become his unofficial girlfriend. He supposed it might’ve been when they were watching a film round at the King’s penthouse and, after Ella had called it a day and headed for home and Charlie had passed out on the floor after one too many Vodka shots, they’d suddenly found themselves alone sitting on the sofa. The movie about an LA gangster was shit (Charlie’s choice) so they began talking, one thing led to another and suddenly they’d found themselves making out, just like that. It was a good job Charlie was as stoned as a hippy during the summer of ’69, otherwise he might’ve kicked Jack down all twenty-five flights of stairs. By the time they both told him, they’d been going out for a week. They picked the very rare moment when Charlie was both sober and acting sensibly to reveal the news, therefore reducing the chance of him going utterly ballistic. But in the end there was nothing to worry about. Charlie was cool with the idea and, in the same way that Jack had grown used to helping his mate back home from the club each evening, Charlie had grown used to the fact that it often took a while for news to reach his ears. It had been the same with the news that first Jack and then Ella had officially joined K.O and when they couldn’t hide the secret for any longer and decided to tell him, at first he’d reacted badly. He’d pretended to be angry at Jack for not telling him instantly and had even threatened to get him barred from the club, but in fact that wasn’t the real thing that was getting at him. He was jealous, jealous that both of them could now earn huge wages and work properly for the coolest business in the world while Charlie was forced to drink his life away, attend school and miss out on all the fun. He wanted more than anything to be a part of it, but that was the one thing his father wouldn’t allow. Apparently, it wasn’t safe and, unlike Jack and Ella, Charlie wasn’t skilled enough to face the dangers of the job. Well, screw Dad! That was why he’d eventually allowed himself to be persuaded into taking up fighting lessons, so that he could get better, improve his ability and show his father that he was worthy of a place in the organisation. Soon after Jack had told him of his involvement with K.O, Charlie had revealed this secret desire to him. And it was a secret that he’d never told anyone ever before. Being the son of one of the richest men in the world, jealousy was not an emotion he came across often and it pained him inside more than almost anything else. But Charlie had quickly learnt that he could trust Jack – he’d been his only real friend ever since the King family had moved out to Hong Kong four years ago – and so, after finally plucking up the courage, he’d told him. Charlie had been expecting taunts, jokes, laughter, the full works. But like a real friend, Jack had taken it seriously. So now they’d both kept secrets from each other, this culminating in a deal agreed by both that had remained intact right to this very day. In exchange for Charlie not blowing his stack over every envious thing Jack did, the latter promised he would teach Charlie everything he knew to try and get him up to K.O standard. That included weapon handling, fitness training and karate lessons, each taught whenever they had spare time and Charlie felt up to it. And so when he’d learnt a couple of weeks ago that Jack and Charlotte were going out, Charlie had kept to his side of the bargain, remained calm and even congratulated them. By the next day, he’d mastered the wheel kick - one of the hardest moves in basic karate. Jack was confused about his feelings for Charlotte; Jessica Miller, his real-life girlfriend, never too far from his mind whenever their lips touched. He still loved Jessica to bits and always would, but they hadn’t spoken (let alone seen each other) for over eight weeks and Jack was beginning to get restless in her absence. He’d considered more than once about trying to make contact with her, but it was too much of a risk. Like with his family, he didn’t know what he’d do if she ended up in danger because of a reckless decision. Besides, it wasn’t as if Charlotte was a total minger. She wasn’t quite up to Jessica’s standards but she wasn’t far off, her wavy auburn hair and dazzling white smile Jack’s personal highlights. Her curvy body wasn’t bad either. In a way Charlotte was more stunning than any other girl Jack had ever met, supplemented in no small measure by all the expensive and glamorous dresses she could afford to buy as well as the endless supplies of diamond jewellery and branded cosmetics. But in terms of raw magnificence, in Jack’s eyes there was no one more beautiful than Jessica. And for all he cared, there never would be. Despite the promise, Jack knew Charlie was never going to be completely comfortable around them if he and Charlotte were constantly making out, so as soon as his mate returns, drowning in sweat and gagging for a drink, they break apart and Ella quickly re-joins the conversation. They continue like this up to ten o’clock by which time, particularly when they have school the following day, it is usually wise to start heading for home. It isn’t a proper evening without Charlie complaining for at least five minutes about why he can’t stay for a few more drinks, but the others reply with their usual threat – if he has to walk home alone in the dark then the snatchers will get him – and more often than not this causes him to reluctantly change his mind. A taxi takes them back over to Hong Kong Island and drops them off at the foot of Tsui Tower before the four say their goodbyes and head their different ways. Jack enjoys the short walk back to their own apartment, the crisp autumn night air nulling the effects of the alcohol and churning his senses back into gear. Without Charlie and Charlotte around, Jack can talk to Ella a lot more freely, usually about the day’s major events and their most recent delivery errands. On average they get about three per week, the number fluctuating depending on demand and the number of K.O delivery people available. One week Ella was forced to do double her usual amount of shifts when a contagious bug struck down a reasonable proportion of the K.O workforce. But it wasn’t too much extra work. All the deliveries were registered to addresses within Hong Kong or nearby China so Ella didn’t have to take Sophie’s car very far to get there while so far she’d only ever run into a spot of trouble twice; once when a nosy policeman had begun to question what she was stashing in her bag (he’d woken up the following morning lying in a gutter with no recollection of how and why he’d got there) and also when a drunk customer had tried coming onto her after she’d turned up at his door with his order. Needless to say that the only thing he’d received other than his parcel was a good old bloody nose. Something to remember her by, Ella had thought smugly. Certainly, the real job was nothing like the difficulty of the entry test she’d been put through. Now that had been painful. Occasionally she questioned exactly why King and Brain had insisted on making the entry test so torturous (she still had a faint scar on her ankle from where a dagger had slashed across her skin) until one day she plucked up the courage to ask the latter. The second-in-command’s answer had been surprisingly sincere and shrewd: “Ever heard of the saying hope for the best, prepare for the worst? Well, that’s exactly what the test is designed to do. In that one hour you are put through things that many people would consider unimaginable and in a sense, yes, torturous. Not to be scared the first time you are put through this would be very alarming indeed, but it’s basically just like jumping from a very high diving platform. “The first time you’re up there your mind is constantly thinking about how high it is, how badly it will hurt when you hit the water and thus your concentration starts to go as well. But once you do make the first jump, you quickly realise that it’s not so bad after all. It is only the fear factor that makes it seem that bad and so take that out of the equation and you have nothing to worry about. Go up to the platform a second time and because you’ve already done it before you’ll be a lot less scared and a lot more confident. This time, you’ll make the jump a lot quicker than before and that rate will keep on decreasing the more and more you jump until it is almost second nature. “Back to the test, I’m not guaranteeing that you’re going to experience something like that again in real life, but it could happen. It most definitely could happen. And that is why preparation and experience is so important. Because you’ve already been through it all before, should this occurrence do come around then you’ll be in a far better position to deal with it than if you hadn’t. And at the end of the day, dealing with it well or badly is what’s going to make the difference, isn’t it?” Hope for the best, prepare for the worst… Ella was a relaxing and easy person to talk to, this down to her being a good listener as much as anything else. Jack had identified that trait in her from when he’d taught her at the MI6 training weekend back in September and it had been one of the reasons why he’d chosen her to accompany him on the mission. If you were a good listener, you weren’t about to go and ignore all the important instructions. Jack finds that they’ve barely started chatting before they’ve reached their apartment near the harbour, the words simply eating up the blocks. In a way Jack is often a bit disappointed when this moment arrives as he doesn’t usually get the chance to talk to Ella unless it’s just the two of them. Unfortunately, that is one of the drawbacks about living in a neat but cosy apartment with four other members of family. You can’t even take a dump without everyone else knowing about it. It is almost gone eleven by the time they pass through the front door and most of the others have already gone to sleep. Only Lancaster is still up, updating a mission report while making sure that both Jack and Ella return back safely. The experienced MI6 agent smiles at them as they enter and asks how their evening has been. Jack shrugs nonchalantly. Ella gives a polite but brief answer. Then they all hit the showers and clamber into bed, the Hong Kong lights twinkling through the windows as they finally rest their heads against the pillows and close their eyes. That was life in a day for Jack Knight, as it had been pretty much for the past two months. It had become almost a ritual and one that he wasn’t about to break. As each week and each delivery went by, the respect he gained from the other K.O members steadily increased – even Grimes didn’t entirely hate him anymore – while his friendship with Charlie and Charlotte grew ever tighter. For what seemed like the first time in the past four years (or ever since Jack had first been introduced to MI6 on his fourteenth birthday) he could actually safely predict what was going to happen to him in a full day; even the K.O deliveries were fairly routine. For once he didn’t have to worry about assassin’s shooting him while he was walking down the street or strange men trying to kidnap him in the back of a van. And if there was a psychopath on the other side of the world trying to blow up the Prime Minister then it wasn’t his problem. If MI6 wanted a job doing, they were going to have to find someone else. But that didn’t mean Jack escaped the clutches of his real life forever. It was now approaching mid-November and back home in England, Jack’s proper classmates at Ashbrook High would be beginning to think about their first A2 exams in the coming January. He could almost hear the teachers moaning in his ear, groaning on and on about how they needed to start revising months in advance. Jack hadn’t completely forgotten that he was supposed to be taking exams too and out of fairness towards his mum who still maintained hopes of him moving on to university when he finished in Sixth Form, he’d brought several of his subject text books over with him to study. He’d like to say that he revised from them regularly, but the truth was that most of the time he was too caught up with either Charlie or Charlotte (or both), too absorbed in his undercover identity to think about anything else. He managed a couple of hours every week, stashing the books underneath his bed in case one of the King’s came round and spotted them, but he saw it as unwise to focus too much on his real-life school work considering his situation. He was here on a mission, representing MI6 in a foreign field, and so that always came top in the priority list. He was what he was: a spy, not a schoolboy. And if he succeeded, it meant thousands of lives might be saved in the future. So finally to the mission itself. On some occasions it was frustratingly slow progress, whole weeks going by without any meaningful new leads, but gradually they were gathering new pieces of information together and compiling them all in the official secret mission document – a copy emailed to MI6 Headquarters in Vauxhall, London every Sunday at midday on the dot and all traces of it then deleted and checked through five times over on the laptop. You could never be too careful. Most of the new details that were added to the report were the names and addresses of as many of the known K.O members as possible, more cropping up every week as workers returned from business abroad or decided to show up at the club for once. Jack was now confident that he could recognise and name well over ninety per cent of all K.O’s main members as well as give accurate details about their appearance and personality. The chances were that most of this information wouldn’t be relevant in the grand scheme of the mission, but you could never be sure. The overall target that Mr. Grey, experienced Head of MI6, had set for the agents before flying out to Hong Kong had been to gather as much secret information as they could about K.O in general, any relevant locations and the way the organisation was run. If enough key details were discovered, it would make the job of a trained SAS SWAT team designed to break in and bring down entire organisations that little bit easier. In that sense, Jack and the other junior agents were only the scouts while the SWAT team would be the real force of the attack. But without the vital information that the agents might bring the SWAT team wouldn’t be able to get anywhere, let alone see to the complete collapse of the whole organisation. Their time would come, but for now it was all down to the MI6 junior agents. The whole progress and success of the mission rested upon their shoulders… 1Lessons To Be LearntThis evening was a special day at the Golden Sun clubhouse and the building was packed to the rafters. In the same way that a regular club might hold quiz nights or a disco every once in a while, this was one of those days on the calendar that K.O decided to do something different from the norm. But here it wasn’t bingo or anything crap like that on the menu. No, it was something much more up their street… The karate sessions were designed to make sure that the K.O members kept up their fitness levels as well as helping them to improve their fighting ability. These evenings came around twice per week without fail and today, Wednesday, was one of those. All the entertainment from the large games room had been cleared away including the boxing ring, pushed to one side and shoved into cupboard doors so that they didn’t get in the way. What was left was an open space easily large enough for fifty people to move about freely with a designated strip down one side for the instructors to stand and demonstrate. While these sessions were not officially compulsory, any member who continuously skived off could expect a harsh reprimand from either Brain or Travis, the leader of the karate sessions. But because everyone was wise and experienced enough to realise that this was never a good idea even at the best of times, the sessions received almost a full house every time. The only person that never attended these sessions was Calvin King, relying on feedback from his two deputies to get an idea about how everyone was doing. Whether this was because he had a bad back, a phobia for exercise or was simply too busy on weekday evenings to indulge in such activities, Jack did not know, but one thing was for sure: it certainly didn’t mean that any of the attending members were going to lose their discipline. By the time the doors opened at half past seven, there was already a reasonable crowd hanging around the entrance; Brain having to push his way through in order to feed the keys into the secure set of locks. Jack, Charlie and Ella were among the crowd that filed into the bar before making their way into the games room. Karate evenings were the odd days that Charlotte didn’t bother turning up, purely because she didn’t want to learn karate and there’d be no one in the bar area to talk to. Jack, Charlie and Ella all gathered round one of the pool tables and withdrew the legs so that it would take up less room. Then they picked up and carried it over to the giant store cupboard at the back of the room. It took fifteen minutes for the whole room to be properly cleared and by then the vast majority of other members had arrived. Brain instructed them to spread themselves out into five rows of ten facing the front and then they waited for Travis to arrive. “Evening, everyone!” Travis entered carrying a crate of fillable water bottles in his hand, placing them in the corner of the room before taking up his position in front of the group. “All fighting fit, I hope?” There was a smattering of grumbled replies from the forty-eight members attending. “God, this is a miserable bunch,” Travis muttered. “If I’d wanted to watch some corpses standing around I would have popped up into the cemetery before coming here.” “You’re shit!” someone yelled from the back of the group. “Get off the stage!” “Takes one to know one, McQueen,” Travis grinned. “Now come on, time to knock some energy into you depressing sods. We’ll start off with everyone’s favourite warm-up: press ups!” This time the groan was even louder, but there was a good-humoured edge to it. “Chop, chop. Everyone down on your fronts. Now when I say ‘down’ you bend your arms and you don’t push back up again until I say so. Down!” Lying on the floor with Ella and Charlie either side of him, Jack allowed his body to drop down so that his chest was almost brushing the wooden planks, the muscles in his arms now taking the strain. After about three seconds, Travis shouted: “Up!” The K.O members all moved simultaneously, returning to their previous position. “Down! Up! Down! Up!” Travis paced back and forth at the front of the room as the members soon found their rhythm, the most unfit gasping and grunting as the minutes pressed on. “One last one,” Travis announced. “Down!” Everyone dropped and held their position for two seconds, four seconds, six seconds… Jack felt his arms start to tremble as he began to lose strength. A bead of sweat rolled off the tip of his nose and splashed onto the floor in front of him. “Up!” The K.O members groaned with relief as they pushed themselves back up and stood back on their feet, flexing their biceps to try and loosen them up. “Now for sit-ups. Let’s have arms folded across your chest while you’re doing so and anyone I catch doing otherwise will receive the extremely severe punishment of cleaning up the room with a mop afterwards.” “Hold on a moment,” Jack grinned. “That’s Ella’s job, isn’t it?” All the members standing around him laughed out loud as Ella flushed bright red and ground her fist into her palm. “Just wait for the sparring sessions, Jack,” she growled. “Then we’ll see who’s laughing.” Compared to press-ups, sit-ups were pretty easy; even if they did hurt your bum. After a further five minutes, everyone stood back up and Jack wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. “Good effort, group,” Travis said, tossing a few of the drink bottles around for people to share. “Although I did hear some rather disturbing grunts coming from the back just then. Just to remind you, McQueen, you’re not back home with the missus just yet.” “Bloody hilarious,” the Australian retorted. “And besides, it wasn’t me, it was Raj.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Travis said. “Raj will never have a girlfriend.” “At least I don’t apply for a free bus pass!” Raj shouted back. “Oi! Watch it, you!” the grey-haired instructor smiled. After everyone who’d wanted a drink had taken a few gulps, the bottles were passed back to the front and the session continued. “To see how much we remember from our previous sessions I’m going to call a few people forward to the front to demonstrate some moves. So how about Li, Naomi, Rocky and Charlie – can you all come up beside me, please.” “Oh why the hell did he have to pick me?” Charlie moaned, trudging to the front of the room where everyone could now see him. “We’ll start off with you, Rocky,” Travis said. “Can you show everyone else exactly how you do a double butterfly kick.” Rocky, a member from New Zealand and who was built like a rugby player, nodded before performing two simple butterfly kicks in quick succession, the trick being not to pause in-between each one and allowing the spin to carry you into the next kick. “Trust him to get the easy one,” Charlie muttered aggrievedly as there was a polite smattering of applause from the crowd. Naomi was next; a half-English, half-Chinese woman in her mid-twenties who had been going out with one of the other members when they’d first joined and had decided to do the same a few months later. Her move was an axe-kick into an aerial, relatively simple on their own but a lot more difficult when combined together. However Naomi had no trouble completing it, her aerial spin as graceful as a ballerina before landing perfectly on both feet. This time the applause was much greater and Naomi blushed as she stepped back against the wall. “Li, can you try the guile kick for me?” This was a move that the group had learnt only a couple of sessions ago so it was still relatively fresh in Li’s mind as he stepped forward. Extremely impressive when executed correctly and fluently, it wasn’t one for someone that gets dizzy easily. Li began with a standing backflip-kick, taking off from both feet and performing the straight-legged kick as quickly and early as possible into the flip so as to have more time to concentrate on the landing. As his body arced round he kept his kicking leg straight and the other bent so that when he landed on the straight leg he could step forward and retain his balance. “Not bad,” Travis nodded. “Kicking leg needs to be a little straighter though, otherwise you won’t get the same amount of power behind it. Charlie, you’re up last.” Nervously, Charlie stepped forward. He could feel every pair of eyes in the room bearing into him like beams of harsh sunlight, just waiting for him to slip up. “I’m going to give you a bit of a challenge,” Travis said, a sentence that made Charlie’s heart plummet right down into his foot. “Perform for me a jackknife kick.” Jackknife kick… jackknife kick… Slowly Charlie’s memory returned to him and any remaining hope of impressing the others disintegrated before him like a broken vase. He remembered the jackknife kick and it was one of the moves he’d struggled with most during the one-on-one sessions with Travis; designed to speed-track him up to a similar level as the others. The hardest thing about the move was the sheer amount of time you were airborne for – a full 540 degrees spin. This was concluded with a hook kick throw at the end, a move that Charlie had only just managed to master on the ground. Charlie could just imagine the results of his efforts now; sprawled on the floor after hitting it head first and all the other members around him laughing their heads off. That was the last thing he needed. He felt a hand pat him on the shoulder and Travis quietly whisper in his ear. “Just remember what I’ve taught you and commit to the move,” Travis muttered. “If you back out at the last moment, the consequences are going to be even worse, believe me.” Then Travis stepped back to give Charlie room and shouted: “Go!” Charlie gritted his teeth and just went for it. He swung his whole body weight round to get maximum lift then brought up his legs and took off. 180, 360… it was all just a blur of colour in Charlie’s head. He had no idea when 540 degrees was so just guessed, remembering to bring up his left leg at the last moment to execute the hook kick. He landed off balance, stumbling to one side as the spin continued to carry him and he saw the wooden floorboards rush up towards him. But at the last moment he managed to regain his poise and staggered forward, almost knocking into one of the members standing in the front row before straightening upright. At first he couldn’t quite believe that he was on his own two feet. Had he really just done that? Had he really just performed a successful guile kick? He was sure he had to be imagining it and that at any moment he would wake up to find that he’d been knocked unconscious by the heavy fall to the floor, but then the crowd started to clap – led by a yelling Jack and Ella – and it was in that moment that Charlie knew it was real. He had done it! “See what a bit of practice and self-belief does, eh?” Travis said, having to raise his voice to make himself heard over the applause. “Landing still needs a bit of fine tuning but other than that, great!” Charlie nodded and punched the air with his fist. He glanced around to try and spot Brain and wondered if he’d been watching. Who wasn’t at a good enough standard now? “Thank you, demonstrators. You can return back to your positions now.” Still glowing, Charlie slipped in beside Jack and grinned victoriously at him. “Give me another few weeks and I’ll be able to whip your arse, Jacko.” “I look forward to it,” Jack replied, secretly pleased inside for his friend. “Call me up when pigs start to fly, yeah?” Charlie laughed. “Sure thing.” “Nice move, Charlie,” Ella said from the other side of Jack as up at the front, Travis started to prepare for the next exercise. “Just make you sure don’t fall over when we start sparring.” Charlie frowned. “Why do you say that?” “Because at the moment your head is about the size of a hot air balloon.” “She’s got a point,” Jack nodded. “Ha ha, very funny,” Charlie muttered. “Just because neither of you two amateurs could have pulled off that move.” “Yeah,” Ella smiled. “You just keep thinking that when we’ve got your head buried in the wall.” Travis clapped his hands to call for silence and held up several pairs of red objects in his hand. The karate pads looked like a cross between boxing gloves and oven mittens, flat in shape with a strap on one side to slip your hand through. The purpose of them was to provide movable targets that the fighter was supposed to aim at. “Time to get everyone involved,” Travis said, “And so that we’re not all standing around getting cold we’re going to have lots of lines with just five people in each. If I can have ten volunteers to hold the targets first, please? Thank you.” Travis handed out the karate pads and then stood from a distance and watched as the K.O members organised themselves into ten lines. As usual, Jack, Ella and Charlie stuck together, teaming up with two Chinese twins called Zhang and Zheng one of which was in possession of the karate pads. “We’ll begin off nice and simple with some jab punches, uppercuts and palm heel strikes,” Travis said. “Mix it up so that it keeps both you and the target on their toes.” Zheng raised the two pads and they began, Jack starting off with a powerful palm heel strike that Zheng deflected just in front of his chin. The next time Jack came around he tried a double jab and Zheng had to be alert to block them both in time. Each one made a satisfying thwack as Jack’s fist made contact with the padding. “Now time to step it up a bit,” Travis called as he walked up and down between the ten lines, inspecting everyone’s progress. “Front, side, knee, back and groin kicks. Once you feel comfortable, try doing doubles with both your right and left feet. Also swap round the person with the pads so that everyone has a go.” Charlie offered to take the pads and when Jack reached the front of the queue he put all his strength into one single front kick. Despite having both pads in position, the force almost knocked Charlie completely off balance. He staggered backwards before pulling out his hands and rubbing them against his trousers. “Shit, that stung!” he muttered and the rest of the line laughed. Charlie tried to get his own back when it was Jack’s turn with the pads, the exercise now having moved on to more atypical moves such as butterfly kicks and the like. Still not entirely confident on the more advanced moves, Charlie opted for a simple roundhouse kick, spinning round like a top on the ball of his foot before aiming a fierce strike at Jack’s chest. But Jack had been fully expecting it and already had one leg back to give him extra stability, the stance absorbing the full blow of Charlie’s foot as it smacked into the pads. “Better luck next time,” Jack grinned. Charlie scowled and turned away in disgust. “Alright, people, you can hold it there. Time for a breather,” Travis announced ten minutes later. “Grab some water if you need it then get back into five rows like you started off.” Brain handed out bottles and Jack took a large swig before passing it on to Zhang, swishing the water round to cool his mouth before swallowing. “You’re definitely getting better,” Jack said to Charlie as they quickly took up a position at the end of one of the rows. “You almost knocked me over on that last kick.” “Sure,” Charlie mumbled. “How’s the hand?” “Brilliant, that’s why it’s bright red and looks like a bloody lump of raw meat.” “Bloody – ha, good one, Charlie.” “Oh shut up.” Jack smiled and shrugged. Because of his drink problems, Charlie was prone to these violent mood swings and over the two months since they’d first met, Jack had learnt that the best way to deal with it was just to ignore him and not talk. He’d calm down soon enough. He always did. “Now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” Travis said dramatically. “It’s time to learn a new move and tonight is one of my personal favourites. Drum roll, please…” Travis tapped loudly on his thighs and the people at the back of the group rolled their eyes. “Quite aptly, I think, considering where we are based, it is called the Hong Kong Twist – named so because of its popularity in local action movies. This is not so much an attacking move as improving your defensive and evasive skills and so for that reason, I will not need a helper to demonstrate with. Lucky for you, I suppose, otherwise someone would have been leaving the club today with a very bad headache.” “Oh get on with it, old man!” Luke McQueen yelled out, prompting those around to him to snigger into their hands. “Well, now I know who my volunteer is next week,” Travis replied. “So, the Hong Kong Twist – usually you use it either after landing or faking a blow, the purpose of it being to get out of the way before your opponent can strike back. How well you can perform it will depend on you natural agility, but the idea is to travel as greater distance as possible in the air. This means by the time you land you are out of your opponent’s range and will have confused him. Here, watch this…” Travis tensed his legs then suddenly pushed upwards, at the same time rotating forwards on his body’s vertical axis. He spun once in mid-air then twice, twisting his body round as he descended so that he would have been facing his opponent should there have been one. It was strangely graceful, something you would expect a dancer or a gymnast to perform rather than a talented fighter with grey hair. Travis landed lightly on his toes and crouched down on the ground in a stance that Jack found similar to that of Spiderman. “End up close to the ground like this,” Travis said, “As it will give you a lower centre of gravity, a springboard to push up from and also a smaller target for your opponent to aim for.” He stood up and brushed dirt off his hands theatrically. “Now, if an old timer like me can do it, so can you. We’ll start off with half watching and half performing so agree with the person standing beside you who’ll do what first. Attempt just a single twist or rotation first so that you can get the hang of it and when you feel confident move onto two.” Jack agreed with Charlie that he would go first to show him how it was done and Charlie backed away to a safe distance as Jack prepared himself. Knees bent, legs tensed – Jack threw himself up into the air and twisted, the world flashing and spinning by like he was on a scary rollercoaster. The next moment his feet touched ground again and he absorbed the impact by bending his knees and dropping to one hand, just as Travis had showed them. “Terrific,” the man himself said, suddenly appearing from nowhere behind Jack and clapping him on the back. “I’d say you’re ready to go for the double or even triple twist straightaway.” “Oh, thanks,” Jack replied gratefully. “Come on then, Charlie, let’s see you next.” “Uh, um, fine… okay.” As he stepped into an area of free space, Jack couldn’t help thinking he looked about as confident as a shy guy who was about to ask a girl out for the first time. The dread and apprehension was written all over his face, so much so that he could have published a book with it. He began by bouncing on his toes, trying to gain the upwards momentum that would make sure he had time to complete the full rotation, then committed to the move. The twist was alright, Jack thought, if perhaps slightly lopsided and so when he came down to land his feet weren’t directly beneath him. One flailed helplessly, the other touched the floor and slipped as Charlie tumbled backwards. He ended up landing plum on the arse, Jack cringing for his friend as Charlie spat out a swear word. “Not bad for a first try,” Travis said, helping Charlie to his feet, “But you need to pull in your legs more when you spin so that you can go faster.” “And what? Make it even harder to land?” Charlie grumbled. Travis shrugged. “You know what they say: practice makes perfect.” Jack wouldn’t call it ‘perfect’ – not by a long way – but Charlie had at least improved by the time Travis drew the exercise to a close. Travis glanced at his watch as the group reassembled themselves then clapped his hands together. “We’ve got ten minutes left,” he said, “So now it’s time to put everything that you’ve learnt today into practice. Pick a partner, find a space and when I blow my whistle you start sparring. Use any move or method of karate that you want, but I’ll be particularly impressed if anyone manages to perform the Hong Kong Twist during the fight. The winner is the first one to properly floor their opponent and by that I don’t mean someone falling over. Now, choose your partners.” Jack looked around for Charlie, keen to rub his friend’s nose in the dirt, but before he could spot him Ella turned up and grabbed his arm. “Oh no you don’t,” she said firmly. “I’m going to give you a real challenge.” Jack grinned. “Bring it on, girl.” Travis blew his whistle and all around the room the sparring sessions began, the air suddenly filled with the squeak of feet and the thud of body making contact with body. Ella landed an early hook kick on the point just above Jack’s knee, but he swivelled underneath her follow through and swung out a leg, tripping her over and sending her tumbling to the floor. At the last moment, she managed to convert it into a forwards roll and was back on her feet as Jack’s next wave of attack came. First she blocked his uppercut with an arm across her face then reacted quickly to deflect a reverse crescent kick. Eager to get back on the offensive, she charged forward and kneed Jack in the stomach. He stumbled back, dodged out of the way of Ella’s approaching leg and then responded with an axe kick to keep her at bay. “Phew, someone’s getting aggressive,” Jack said, rubbing the spot on his stomach where Ella had hit. “Hope it hurt,” Ella smirked then lunged forward again, not about to give Jack a moment’s rest. They exchanged quick-fire punches, only a handful of them landing on their intended targets with most being blocked or dodged by their opponent, before Jack caught Ella in the solar plexus with a well-timed elbow strike and looked to seize the initiative. Ella staggered backwards and for several moments she was vulnerable, a split second decision resulting in Jack going for a rainbow kick to finish her off. He spun round 540 degrees in the air to gain power and as he began to land, lashed out with his right foot at the point where Ella’s shoulder was. Except Ella had already gone. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack spotted a blur of blond hair beneath him as Ella slid underneath his body and the next thing he knew as he landed, a foot had made sharp contact with the back of his knee. Jack’s leg buckled but he remained on his feet. He ducked instinctively as an axe kick shot over his head, almost brushing the tips of his hair, and kicked backwards to try and prevent Ella from getting too close. His foot hit soft flesh and Jack realised Ella was a lot nearer than he’d expected. Heavy footfalls told him that Ella had staggered backwards and he spun round on the ball of his foot, fists raised. Bam! The spinning hook kick came out of nowhere, Jack just about glimpsing the foot rocketing towards him before it smashed into his chin and he was flung backwards. He hadn’t even had time to flinch. Jack landed awkwardly, somewhere between on his back and on his hip, but it didn’t matter that he was struggling to get up. That had been as clear a knockout as you were ever going to see. The bout was over. Ella had won. “Ha! Did you just see that?” Charlie whooped with delight from his position a few metres away where he’d been standing watching. “Jack Bennett owned by his sister! Oh I wish I had that on camera.” Jack heaved himself up from the floor, his hip only slightly bruised, and turned towards Charlie. “You can hardly talk. You were floored two bloody minutes ago.” “Yeah, but that was to be expected,” Charlie smirked, the grin on his face the size of the Great Wall of China. “You’re supposed to be the karate kid - Mr. Unbeatable - and you get totally mashed by a girl a whole foot and a whole year younger than you! Classic!” Jack scowled, but didn’t rise to the bait. Losing his temper wouldn’t do the progress of the mission any favours whatsoever. He turned and spotted Travis walking over towards them; he too was beaming. Oh great, Jack thought, here we go again. “Fantastic duel you two,” the instructor said, clapping them both warmly on the back. “I thought you had her with that rainbow kick, Jack, I really did. But that movement to turn defence into attack, Ella… bloody hell you must have the agility of a squirrel or something.” Ella shrugged one shoulder. “It has been said…” “Really?” “Nah, that would be weird.” “And as for the spinning hook kick to finish it off… why, I’d be pleased with that one myself. Executed to perfection.” He clapped them both on the back again. “Great effort, you two. Great effort. Top quality all round.” Travis looked up and sighed exasperatedly before marching off towards one of the other pairs. “McQueen, what did I tell you about putting Raj into a headlock?” That left Jack and Ella alone for the first time since the bout had ended and for a few moments there was awkward silence. Ella stood back, her arms folded, waiting to see how Jack would react to his shock loss. She wore a slight smile, but certainly wasn’t milking the victory. Unlike in the sparring session, this time she wasn’t going to make the first move. Jack sighed and could see no other option but to swallow his pride and congratulate his opponent. Besides, it wasn’t as if Ella was a bad fighter. Her natural ability was one of the reasons why Jack had elected her for the mission in the first place. And she hadn’t rubbed the win in, at least not yet, which was pretty good of her so he supposed she kind of deserved the praise. If it had been Grimes or Charlie (God forbid) that Jack had lost to, he’d be knee deep in it already. Jack looked up at Ella from the spot on the floor where he’d been staring and held out his hand. “Good fight,” he said, “You probably deserved it.” “Probably?” Ella smirked. Jack groaned. “Alright, you definitely deserved it.” Ella smiled. “That’s more like it.” She reached out and shook Jack’s hand. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch, like a cosy blanket in the middle of winter. “Sportsmanship, right?” she said, looking down at their hands as she let go. Jack’s mind had gone blurry for a second. “Huh?” “It’s called sportsmanship, isn’t it?” she repeated. “At least, that’s what you told me.” It took Jack a few moments to work out what she meant, but eventually he realised. At the MI6 training weekend back in September there had been a cocky kid called Derrick who had ridiculed shaking hands with an opponent. His exact choice of words were ‘it’s for queers’ if Jack remembered correctly. As the person in charge of the group, Jack had repeated to Derrick the phrase told to him by every single football coach that he’d ever played under: it’s called sportsmanship. And although Derrick hadn’t listened to him, it didn’t matter. In the end, he’d got what he deserved… “Oh yeah,” Jack said, breaking into a grin. “So someone did actually listen to what I was saying?” “Course they did,” Ella beamed. She was about to say more, but then realised they weren’t at MI6 anymore. They were undercover in a clubhouse on the other side of the world and surrounded by criminals at every single angle. If she started mouthing off about MI6 training weekends, someone was surely going to smell a rat. “There was just one thing about the fight that I haven’t mentioned yet,” Jack said, quickly steering the conversation back to the present. Ella raised her eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah, the kick to the face.” “What about it?” Ella asked. “Apart from it being absolutely terrific, obviously.” Jack began to grin and Ella could almost sense what was coming. Two months of sharing the same apartment, you get used to these kind of things. “Well, before you knocked me onto my arse I got a whiff of your feet.” Jack flapped a hand in front of his nose to try and emphasise his point. “Smelt worse than mouldy cheese stuffed with rotten eggs, I’m telling you.” “Oh how very imaginative of you, Jack,” Ella sighed. “Not forgetting how extraordinarily amusing as well,” Jack added. “Yeah, of course.” She shook her head. “Trust you to come up with a gag as lame as that, Jack.” “Hey, at least I’m not being a sore loser.” “True,” Ella nodded. “In which case, I’m going to let you off this time.” “Oh, I feel so blessed.” “But on the next occasion you do anything to insult me…” Ella interlocked her hands together and clicked her fingers to show that she meant business. “And now you know that I can, don’t you?” Jack smiled. “Remind me to keep you in my good books from now on,” he said. “Consider it a deal.” They turned around in time to watch the last few seconds of the one remaining fight that was still undecided. It was between Grimes and another member called Lee and it must have been very evenly contested to have lasted such a long while. But even as everyone watched they could tell that Lee was tiring, unable to keep up the intense tempo of his opponent. From then on, the result was a formality. Lee made a sloppy error when he threw a weary vertical kick at Grimes’ chest and his opponent punished him ruthlessly. Still full of energy, an impressive poe kick knocked Lee of his feet and the nail in the coffin came when Grimes leapt on top of him, pummelling him into submission. “I always knew the guy was bent,” Charlie muttered, suddenly appearing behind Jack’s shoulder. Jack laughed. “Takes one to know one.” “Piss off.” Grimes roared and punched the air with his fist as he clambered off of Lee’s body, only remembering to help him up a full five seconds later. As the group had already formed a rough circle, Travis stepped into the middle to address them. “Top karate session today, people,” he shouted. “I’ve seen some brilliant moves being carried out, particularly in that last exercise, and you should all be extremely proud of yourselves. As usual, the bar will be open for the next thirty minutes if any of you want to grab a refreshing drink, otherwise I expect I’ll see you all again in the coming days. Remember to keep your phones switched on 24-7 in case we need to contact you. There should be some big deliveries coming up within the next few days, you’ll be pleased to hear. Alright, see you everyone. And well done again.” “You fancy a beer?” Jack asked Charlie as they both slipped their shoes back on, expecting it to be a foregone conclusion. But to his surprise, Charlie shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be alright. There are beers in the fridge back home if I want to grab one later.” “Who are you?” Jack grinned. “And what have you done with the old Charlie?” “Shut up, Jack.” So after saying a few goodbyes and thanking Travis personally for the session, they left the clubhouse and headed for home. Despite winter quickly approaching, the Hong Kong climate bore no obvious effects that worse weather was on its way. As is typical in autumn, the temperature was mild and pleasant, only the occasional cold fronts from the north bringing with it strong and cooling winds. And with the fact that they were already hot anyway from all the exercise, they were comfortable walking to their usual taxi-hailing spot in just their tracksuit bottoms and t-shirts. One appeared within just a few minutes and they all dragged their exhausted bodies onto the back seat. Because she was still feeling in a good mood, Ella offered to pay and the whole journey was filled with a calming, relaxing silence as nobody risked mentioning anything about the evening with an outsider in presence. Eyes closed and with his head resting against the window, Jack still couldn’t get his brain around the idea that the K.O members were all so good at karate. He remembered the day when he’d first met them and how they’d struck him as just a group of local adults who’d popped down to their nearest pub for a pint and a game of cards. Some of them were pretty beefy, yeah, but other than that they’d looked about as lethal as cuddly toys. Cuddly toys with beers. So you can imagine his surprise a few days later when he’d attended his first karate session to find them all strutting around like Chuck bloody Norris. Okay, maybe not that good, but easily skilled enough to knock out an enemy with one kick should the situation present itself. Two months later and, if anything, they’d improved even more. Though a lot of that had to go down to the hard work, effort and extraordinary teaching skills of Travis - K.O’s resident karate guru - it was still a remarkable achievement. Jack had been learning and practicing karate on a weekly basis ever since he was five (after his father had inexplicably taken him to the local club out of the blue one day and he’d eventually come to enjoy it) and was now a 2nd Dan, one rank higher than a standard black belt. Yet, almost all of the members at the club could give him a decent run for his money, even beating him on the odd occasion as Ella had today. This new revelation had thrown Jack’s earlier preconceptions completely out of the water. In a way, he supposed it made sense. This was K.O he was talking about, not some small-time gang that barely made enough money to buy their new tracksuits and bags of weed. Of course they were going to be professionally trained. Sure they would be able to stand up for themselves in a fight. But up to this standard? Even MI6 didn’t have workers as hard-working, dedicated and disciplined as these. It was only then that Jack truly realised why K.O was such a successful organisation. Yes, they had a smart, careful, inspirational boss and a well-organised business plan to deservedly match, but that doesn’t necessarily make a successful company. You also needed members - the more efficient the better. And K.O’s members were about as efficient as an A+++ fridge freezer. They were the ones that made the company tick and he and Ella were among them, so settled now that they almost felt like part of the family. And the others had come to respect them in the same way. Without the loyal members, K.O would be like a story without an ending, a human without a heart: Nothing. 2Through Thick And ThinJack should have been revising for a maths test at school tomorrow morning, but he couldn’t be bothered. If Charlie wasn’t going to, why should he? And what were the teachers going to do about it if he failed? Give him a detention? They’d already got five between them that week and it was only Wednesday. The club rotated the days that the karate sessions were held on so that it gave some members that were busy on particular days a chance to attend. As well as the Wednesday last week when Ella had beaten him in the sparring bout (she and Charlie still hadn’t let him forget about it, the gits), a training session had also been held on Saturday, resulting in Monday and Friday being the two designated days this week. That gave Jack a welcome evening off tonight and right now he was making full use of it… …By sitting on his arse, watching shit TV. It was as if he’d become so dependent on the Golden Sun as a source of entertainment that he’d completely lost the ability to enjoy anything else. It was quite sad really. Then again, on this occasion, it might have something to do with the fact that he couldn’t understand a single word that the young Chinese couple on the screen were nattering on about. They might’ve been going on about the latest football results for all he knew. In his defence, he hadn’t been the one to choose it. That mistake had been made by Sophie, his undercover mum now snoring like a grampus with her body sprawled out over one of the armchairs. The remote control was tucked underneath one of her arms and Jack didn’t have the heart or energy to disturb her for it. Wearily, he heaved himself up from the sofa and trudged down the corridor towards his bedroom. He didn’t know what he was going to do there, but anything had to be better than watching the Chinese version of Coronation Street. As he passed Toby’s bedroom he paused, convinced that he could hear swearing from inside. Jack frowned and knocked once on the door before nudging it open. “You alright in there, Toby?” he asked. He found his covert brother hunched over his desk with the light switched on, attacking a workbook furiously with a rapidly diminishing rubber. “Yeah, fine,” he mumbled, although his tone of voice suggested anything but. Jack hovered around in the doorway as Toby stared down at his text book, glaring at it as if he hoped it would suddenly burst into flames. He started to tap his chin with a pen, muttering random calculations under his breath. At first Jack thought he’d cracked it, but then Toby let out a huge groan and hurled the pen at the wall. “Ah it’s no good,” he growled, punching the desk and sending his pencil case clattering to the floor. “I can’t work out a bloody thing. My brain’s turned to shit.” Jack stepped into the room and pushed the door shut so that it wouldn’t wake Sophie up. “Homework trouble?” he said knowingly. “Grrr,” Toby growled, on the verge of screwing up the page and starting again from scratch. “Where’s Megan?” Jack asked. “Doesn’t she usually help you out?” “She was off school today so I didn’t get a chance to speak with her,” Toby explained. “It must be an illness or something because there’s no way that she would ever bunk off.” “Tough break,” Jack shrugged. “And now I’m totally screwed because I’m way out of my depth and don’t have a bloody clue how to solve all these problems.” He picked up his textbook and stabbed a question with his finger. “I mean, what the hell’s a surd? It sounds like a cross between a shit and a turd, not a piece of frickin’ maths vocabulary.” Jack laughed. “That’s one way to put it.” “I’ve been working at this pile of crap for over two hours now and I’m still less than halfway through.” Toby put his head in his hands and slumped against the desk. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.” “Well, just make sure it’s not all over me, okay?” Jack grinned, before suddenly realising that Toby was genuinely troubled by it. He walked over and craned over the fourteen-year-old’s shoulder so that he could read some of the questions. Maybe he could help. “I’m no expert,” Jack admitted, “But I think a surd is a number that includes a root – you know, that squiggly line that looks like the recording produced from a heart monitor.” “Yeah, I know it.” “What question are you on?” Barely looking up from the table, Toby pointed to a question halfway down the page. “That one.” “Rationalising the denominator,” Jack murmured and slowly his brain began to kick back into gear after all the weeks of being able to slack off. “Alright, I’ll give you a bit of a hint. The denominator of a fraction can’t be a surd so you have to times both the top and bottom by that number or its negative counterpart so that you get an integer.” “A what now?” “An integer or, in other words, a whole number.” “Shit, I knew that,” Toby muttered and rubbed his eyes wearily. “Have a go at it, go one,” Jack encouraged. Toby sighed exasperatedly and snatched up his pen. “Fine…” He chewed the plastic end for a few moments as he reread the question then hesitantly started to jot down the calculation and then the answer. “Is that right?” “Perfect,” Jack said. “You see, you’re getting the hang of it already.” “Can you finish it all?” Toby asked hopefully. Jack laughed. “Nah, I think that would be pushing it a bit.” “Ah, come on,” Toby complained. “You’ve done shit all in terms of schoolwork since the moment we arrived here.” “All in the name of the mission, little bro,” Jack grinned. “Dick.” “Thick.” “Hey!” “You started it.” “Did not!” “Did too.” The two boys looked at each and suddenly burst out laughing. “You see,” Jack said. “I’ve got you smiling already. Who’s a genius?” He’d left the door open for Toby to get right back at him and Jack was fully expecting him to do so, but instead Toby sighed and switched off his desk light. “Do you really want to know why I’m getting so frustrated?” he asked, turning round to Jack. Jack looked surprised. “Why?” Toby scratched his head gingerly, unsure whether he’d gone too far and had said enough already. But he was the one that had asked the question. He couldn’t back down now. “It’s because of the mission,” he said. “I don’t whether it’s me towards the mission or the mission towards me, but one way or another it’s been a let-down. In fact, it’s probably both.” “What do you mean?” “Well, look at me!” Toby leant back in his chair and spread his arms over his desk. “I’m supposed to be a secret agent, delving behind enemy lines and kicking bad guys up the arse. I’m the one that’s supposed to be responsible for locking them in jail and throwing away the key. But no… every day I simply get mountains of homework that takes me all evening to complete and gives me a constant bloody headache. In terms of the actual mission objective I’ve done diddly squat, nil pois… a big fat zero.” “Hey, you managed to sneak into Calvin King’s office without being detected,” Jack said defensively, “And then had the intelligence of mind to rig up a listening device inside. Without you, we may not have been able to get inside even now.” “Oh yeah? And how much good has that been to us?” Toby muttered bitterly. “We’re meant to be finding out top secret information about K.O, not the King family’s bloody weekly shopping list.” Under different circumstances, Jack might have laughed. But there was nothing funny about a shortage of morale running through a member of the team. “I mean, at least Fred gets to play computer games all day,” Toby continued. “What do I get? Double science homework and a walking calculator to hang around with.” “I thought you liked Megan?” Jack frowned. Toby sighed and ran a hand through his thick locks of brown hair. “She’s decent looking and is pleasant enough to talk to most of the time, but I just wish that sometimes she wouldn’t be so serious about her schoolwork. In two months I don’t think she’s ever done anything fun without getting all of her homework out of the way first. And considering that takes up pretty much the whole evening, it doesn’t exactly leave much time left over, does it? Plus it’s really annoying when she gets full marks in a test and I get about half, because it just reminds of how utterly stupid I am.” Jack bit his lip; he could tell this one was going to be difficult to convince. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Toby,” Jack said. Toby shook his head. “I came here expecting loads of action and fighting, just like we’re always trained for back at MI6. But so far the only frickin’ fight I’ve seen is between Megan and Bo Wei for the bloody top-of-the-class trophy. I’ve got nothing against you, Jack, but let’s face it… it’s only you and Ella that are involved in this mission now. You’re the ones that are following up all the leads. Fred is now an expert at Call of Duty so I strongly doubt he’s too miserable, but I’ve got nothing. Absolutely nothing. I may as well not even be here.” “Hey, don’t say that.” “But it’s true!” “So what, you’re trying to tell me that you’d rather be stuck in dreary old England in the middle of the rain season than here?” “Well…” “Exactly. And come on, but are you ever going to have a better view to do your homework than the one you’ve got right here?” Toby looked up and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling window. The sight was stunning. “Listen to me mate,” Jack said, resting a comforting hand on the young lad’s shoulder, “You’re doing a great job. Part of the role of being a spy is to fit in seamlessly with your surroundings and in that department you’ve been absolutely faultless. No matter what you might have seen on TV, being a secret agent isn’t all about guns, loud cars and beating up the bad guys. Some of it is and yes, I agree with you, that’s always the best part, but things can’t always go your way and that’s something that everybody in the world needs to learn whether they’re an undercover agent or just a normal citizen. There are good times and bad times, but it’s how you cope through the bad times that really counts. And when you snuck into King’s office and hid inside the cupboard, that showed great opportunism and quick, calm thinking.” “I was just lucky,” Toby muttered. “If King’s phone hadn’t started to ring we’d probably all be dead by now.” “Hey,” Jack said, “A wise man once told me that real men make their own luck. Believe in it, ‘cause I did. Luck isn’t a fortune. It’s a skill. Ever heard of the old Latin proverb: fortune favours the brave? That’s my motto and it’s never let me down, not once.” “You’re nuts.” Jack laughed. “So are you if you’re going to let a little bit of frustration and disappointment ruin your whole mission. This might not work out for you, but the one thing that you should never do is give up hope and start to wish you were in a different place. Not only will you not put in your full commitment, but that’s also when you start slipping up and making mistakes. And mistakes, as you know, can cost lives. “We came on this mission as a team and we’re here now as a team. Just us four junior agents, Lancaster and Sophie with barely any outside help from anyone. And the one thing that teams always do is stick together. Through thick and thin.” Toby nodded, but still had a few niggling anxieties. “It’s just, this is my first mission and I really want to make a good impression,” he said. “I’m worried that… if I do badly… I might not be chosen for another mission again.” “Listen, mate,” Jack said and spun Toby round so that he was looking directly at him. “Do you know who it was that chose you to come on this mission?” “Mr. Grey?” Toby asked unsurely. “Wrong. It was me. And do you know why I chose you? I saw potential. I saw class. I saw a fourteen year old boy who had come top of a training exercise that most fully grown adults would struggle copiously with. That’s why I chose you, Toby. That’s why you’re here now. “And if they pick you once, they’ll pick you again. You’re still young and, as you say, this is your very first mission. You’ve got your whole MI6 junior career still laid out in front of you, so why start moping when you haven’t even begun yet? And if you do ever feel that you’re not performing up to your high standards then just remember this: form is temporary, class is permanent. It’s like with a footballer; as soon as they get their confidence back, they start banging in the goals. But first, you’ve just got to believe in yourself. Do you get what I’m saying?” Toby nodded and this time he looked a lot happier. Gone was the moaning, skulking teenager from a few minutes ago and back in his place was the energetic, cheerful fourteen year old that Jack had originally first picked for the mission. “You’re going to play an important part in this mission yet, Toby,” Jack said. “Just you wait and see.” Just then Jack’s phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hold on one moment,” he muttered and quickly fished it out. It was a text. And it was Brain that had sent it. Jack’s brain started to whir. Whatever it was, it had to be important. “Sorry, mate, I’ve got to go now.” Jack patted Toby warmly on the shoulder, acutely aware that this was exactly the type of action that the kid was praying for, then turned for the door. “Good luck with the homework.” He was already out in the corridor by the time that Toby shouted for him to come back. “Yeah?” Jack said, poking his head back into the bedroom. “Just… thanks,” Toby said meekly. The pen was back on his hand and he was already beginning to tackle the next surds question on the worksheet. Jack smiled and did a mock solute. “No worries, mate. I’ll catch you later.” Then he left the room for good and turned his attention back to the new message: Can u be at club for 8 this evening 2 help out with delivery? Contact me ASAP wiv answer. Jack didn’t even hesitate. He selected the option to ring the caller back and then put the phone to his ear. Brain picked up on the third dial. “Jack? That you?” the second-in-command of K.O answered hesitantly. “Yep, sure is.” “I’m guessing you must have received my text then. So what, can you do it?” “Yeah, no problem. I’ll be there on the dot.” “Oh excellent, thank you,” Brain said, sounding relieved. “A couple of the other guys were supposed to do it, but they pulled out through illness at the last minute. I needed someone reliable to replace them and so you were one of the first people I thought of.” “Do you want Ella to come along as well?” Jack asked. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Brain said. “We could do with an extra pair of hands to help out. Even so, it’ll take a while to unload the whole van so I hope neither of you have got anything planned for late this evening.” “Uh, no, we haven’t,” Jack muttered, suddenly distracted. “Did you just say a van?” “Yeah, it’s bringing a big supply of stock in,” Brain answered before realising that he’d probably said enough already. As long as they didn’t directly mention the profession of the club during a phone call or within a text then it shouldn’t cause a problem, but even so they were always wary about how much detail they exchanged. There was always a chance that a phone had been hacked and was being listened to by the police or the enemy and so giving away important information could put the organisation into jeopardy. If important company matters needed to be discussed, face to face was always a lot safer. “Alright then,” Jack said, picking up the hint from Brain that it was time to stop talking. “We’ll see you there.” “Bye.” Jack ended the call and was already striding down the corridor by the time the phone slipped into his pocket. He hammered on Ella’s bedroom door, standing there agitatedly while his undercover sister fumbled around inside and took her time making it to the door. “Yeah?” she said, peering out into the corridor and her face softening when she saw Jack. “Oh, hi, Jack.” “Hi. Now listen, you’ll never guess what Brain has just said to me on the phone. A couple of the other members were supposed to be helping out with the stock at the club tonight but they pulled out, so Brain has asked if you and I can do it instead.” Ella leant against the door frame and frowned. “So what? We’ve both been in the Golden Sun store cupboard loads of times. There’s nothing special in there.” “Yeah,” Jack said eagerly, “But has a mysterious van ever turned up before while we were there?” Ella’s eyes widened. “I thought not.” “What van? You don’t mean, like, a delivery van, do you?” “That’s what Brain seemed to be implying,” Jack nodded. “And he says it will be bringing in a huge supply of goods, hence why he needs so many people to help unload it.” “Hang on,” Ella muttered, “I think I see what you’re getting at. If somehow we can find a way of tracking this van as it moves, we might be able to find the source of all K.O’s goods.” Jack grinned broadly. “That’s exactly what I’m getting at. And in terms of being able to track it, I’ve got an idea for that already. But first we need to go and speak to Lancaster. Come on, Brain wants us to be at the club by eight o’clock at the latest.” Lancaster was at the kitchen table, engrossed in a new detective novel with his feet propped up on the chair beside him. He flicked over the page then looked up as Jack and Ella hurried towards him. “Alright?” he mumbled lethargically. “Why all the sudden excitement? Don’t tell me, the science block has blown up and school has been suspended for the next six months.” “Unfortunately, no,” Jack admitted, “But it’s nearly as good.” Lancaster raised his eyebrows. “Must be pretty important then.” “This was sent to me just a few minutes ago,” Jack said and handed Lancaster his phone with the text message on the screen. As the experienced senior agent read it, Jack and Ella quickly filled him on all the other details, including their plan to try and track where the van went. “So what we were hoping,” Jack concluded, “Is that you might have a tracking device which we could attach to the van while it was stationary. Then, once it is on the move, you can follow it from a safe distance.” Lancaster handed Jack back his phone and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I think I have something that might work,” he said and stood up. “Wait here.” He went off to his room and came back a few moments later with a clear plastic bag full of black cuboid objects. They looked a bit like batteries except without the caps, similar in size and shape with an LED bulb inserted into the middle of one side. Lancaster pulled one out and handed it to Jack. “Familiar with these, I hope?” he said. “Am I ever?” Jack said, tossing it up in the air and catching it before rolling it around between his fingers. “An MI6 tracking device – part of every agent’s standard mission equipment. Strong battery inside gives it an approximate life expectancy of over seven days from full charge while because it uses GPS tracking to display where it is, the signal can be picked up from anywhere around the world. Has three different sides which enables it to attach to different surfaces. You’ve got the double-sided sticky tape side that allows it to stick to smooth surfaces, the clip side which enables it to fasten onto more abnormal shapes and finally the magnetic side which does pretty much exactly what it says on the tin.” Ella nodded. “That’s going to be useful if we’re planning to stick it to the underside of the van.” “It can be activated both via a button and remotely while you know it has been switched on when this red LED here starts to flash.” Jack paused to catch his breath. “Have I missed anything?” “Yes, you can cause it to self-destruct by selecting the option remotely. This is useful, for instance, if you are unable to remove the device once it’s reached its destination and you don’t want it to be discovered.” “Much like what we’re planning to do tonight,” Ella added. “Exactly.” “Shit,” Jack muttered, “I knew that.” “Of course you did, Jack,” Lancaster grinned. “Keep it safe in your pocket or whatever until the time is right and then attach it to the van. I’ll be on standby ready to chase as soon as the van starts to move.” “The roads will be pretty empty at this time of night,” Jack said. “Make sure you don’t get spotted and blow the whole operation.” Lancaster raised one eyebrow at him. “Do I look like an idiot to you?” Jack smiled. “Well…” “You might have turned eighteen now, Jack,” Lancaster said, feigning seriousness, “But that still doesn’t mean you have the right to insult me about my age. Being forty years old makes me senior and so I can get half a dozen highly-qualified SAS men to kick you from this side of Hong Kong to the other with just the click of my fingers. Do we have an understanding?” “Totally.” “Excellent. Now don’t worry about me. I have a plan. Just concentrate on your own job. As long as you do your part, I’ll do mine. And then who knows? Maybe we’ll return back here this evening a little bit wiser than when we set off.” 3Under The Cover Of Darkness“Thanks for coming you two at such short notice. I appreciate it.” Brain shook both Jack and Ella’s hands as they reached the entrance of the club before guiding them down one of the side alleys towards the rear of the building. There were already a couple of burly members there, chatting to each other in gruff voices and smoking as they leaned against the brick wall. The smoke curled up into the night air like a fine mist. “Van not here yet?” Jack asked. “It’s eight o’clock.” “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s usually a couple of minutes late,” Brain replied. “Driver has to take all these detours on the way here, you see, to make sure that he isn’t being tailed. Can’t be too careful when you’ve got thousands of pounds of illegal goods hidden in the cargo hold.” Jack nodded. “Makes sense.” A few seconds later, the sound of an engine rumbled into hearing range and the delivery van appeared slowly round the corner, its headlights blazing. It was a VW Crafter panel van, by far the most agile and speediest model in its class. It could reach speeds of close to ninety miles per hour which was impressive considering it was basically just a box on wheels with seventeen cubic metres of space inside. It was also brand new and painted entirely in white, with no logos, slogans or information details on it at all apart from its make and model. If somebody saw it passing on the street, it could have come from anywhere. Florists, greengrocers, builders… those would probably be the most common guesses. No one would for one moment believe it to be a deliverer of illegal goods. “As anonymous as a blank sheet of paper,” Brain said, catching Jack studying. “And that’s just the way we like it. After all, what the public don’t know can’t hurt them.” The van driver must have followed the same routine at least a hundred times previously because no questions or orders were need to be asked as he completed a three point turn so that the van was pointing in the opposite direction then slowly began to reverse towards the drop-off zone. The two burly members had stamped out their cigarettes and were now swinging into action, coaxing the driver backwards while making sure he didn’t crash into the priceless building. “Ella, do you mind opening up the storage room so we’re ready to move all the stock inside?” Brain asked. “The code today is 2349.” “Sure, no problem.” Ella hurried back round to the side of the clubhouse, leaving Jack and Brain alone together. “Come on, I don’t want to be standing around out here any longer than I have to.” Once the van had come to a complete stop, the driver clambered out of the cabin and clasped hands with Brain. “Good to see you again, Ed,” Brain said, smiling warmly. “No problems on the way down here, I hope?” “Smooth as my wife’s arse,” Ed chuckled in a Yorkshire accent, his double chin wobbling as he did so. The K.O driver was badly overweight, this fact not helped by his naturally bulky frame. It was a miracle he managed to fit inside the cabin, let alone have enough space to turn the steering wheel. Brain’s hand was almost engulfed as the two colleagues continued to talk, like a blue whale swallowing a mouthful of krill. To Jack, Ed looked the least likely person to ever be a professional criminal, let alone one that was part of an organisation as successful as K.O. But then again, that was the same opinion he’d had of most of K.O’s main members. And how badly had he been proved wrong…? “Done it,” Ella said, suddenly reappearing beside Jack. Brain nodded. “Marlon, Rex, let’s have the doors open.” Ed unlocked the back of the van and the two men pulled it open, revealing piles and piles of wooden crates inside. Each one was labelled in clear red ink, determining the type of goods stored inside. “Alright,” Brain said, taking instant control of the situation. He placed his hands on his hips, staring at the contents of the van thoughtfully. “Let’s get the closest crates out first and begin to unpack them. Marlon, Rex, you can make a start on that job. Jack, Ella, sorry, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with shuttling duties.” Ella frowned. “Shuttling duties?” “Carrying the packages from the drop-off zone to the store cupboard,” Jack answered for her. “Some of the other members have already told me about it.” “And let me guess,” Brain smiled, “They said it’s the punishment for anyone who mucks around inside the clubhouse?” Jack laughed. “They might’ve mentioned it.” “In that case, don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Just see it as trying out something new.” Rex groaned as he and Marlon lifted the first crate out of the back of the van and placed it carefully down on the tarmac. Brain then removed a crowbar from the inside of one of the doors and jammed it underneath the lid of the crate, pushing downwards with all his strength until the nails were pulled out and the lid flew up into the air. “Let’s see what we’ve got in here,” Brain murmured and they all crowded round and peered inside. “Pirate video games,” Jack grinned. “Nice.” He reached inside to look at an Xbox game that wasn’t due out in the shops for another month (he knew this because Fred had been going on about it at the dinner table just a few days ago) and whistled low under his breath. “How much do these retail for?” “In pounds sterling, it costs our secret source less than a quid per copy to produce,” Brain answered. “The main bulk of which is to cover the cost of materials. We pay them triple that price to buy the goods in a bulk amount and then finally sell each one on to our customers for approximately twenty pounds depending on the title and demand. That gives us an average profit of seventeen pounds per unit but, most importantly, leaves everyone in the chain very happy with their business. Our source earns triple pay for some simple counterfeit goods, we too make a handsome business on our trading and also our customer gets to play a video game weeks in advance of anyone else. It’s the same with pirate DVDs, CDs and computer software, all of which I think you’ll probably expect to find in one of the crates tonight.” Jack nodded and placed the game back into the crate, impressed by what he saw. “I suppose that’s how Kayden King gets every video game that’s ever been released,” he commented. “Might consider buying a few myself if they’re that cheap.” “It’s double price for members,” Brain interrupted, making Jack baulk. The K.O regular grinned. “Only joking, you idiot.” “Are we just going to stand around here getting cold all day or we actually going to start moving some goods?” Ed asked impatiently, hanging around by the side of his truck. Jack wouldn’t have thought getting cold would be a problem for him – he wore a permanent blubbery winter’s jacket around his body as well as the clothes he was currently standing in – but Brain seemed to agree with him and clapped his hands together. “He’s right, people,” he said, pulling out a stack of video games - all wrapped in clear polyethene bags – and dumping them into Jack’s arms. “Let’s get cracking.” After all the deliveries over the previous week, the store room was now practically empty. Only a couple of packages that had been forgotten or their deliveries postponed were left, leaving plenty of space for the new stock to come in. The shelves were labelled according to the type of product, making it easier for the delivery people to find the correct package when it came to making a delivery. The large shelf for pirate merchandise was near the bottom, Jack pushing his bundle to the back then standing aside for Ella to follow suit. Then they both returned back to the crate and picked up another armful. It was simple but strenuous work, Jack’s arms and legs beginning to ache like a sore tooth as they came to the last few crates. Jack gathered up a large breeze block of illegally laundered American dollars, each brick worth precisely a thousand dollars of the currency, and heaved them down the alleyway towards the store room, cursing his painful limbs with every step. Ella was already there when he arrived, trying to make space on the middle shelf for some more satchels of Class A drugs. “I swear this is the last time I ever handle this much ecstasy,” Ella mumbled, holding a big bagful of the white tablets for Jack to see. In such large quantities, they looked more like packets of peppermints than lethal drugs. “Course it is,” Jack grinned and glanced down at the stacks of money. “Although the same can’t be said of me and these big bucks.” Ella snorted. “You? A millionaire? That’ll be the day.” “I was thinking more along the lines of a billionaire, but I suppose a couple of hundred million won’t be too bad.” “Yeah, you keep wishing you that.” Jack placed the bank notes on the top shelf above the label US$ and held Ella back as she prepared to fetch the next load. “What?” “All the crates have now been loaded off the van and it’ll only take a couple more minutes to empty the remaining ones. The van could leave at any minute and we still haven’t got the tracking device on.” “But what can we do?” Ella replied, her voice a hushed whisper. “The right moment hasn’t come along yet. Brain hasn’t even moved an inch away from the drop-zone since the van arrived. We can’t risk trying to attach it with anybody watching and you know that. We’ll be dead before we can even say oops.” Jack scratched his head and looked around thoughtfully, searching for an answer. And then it clicked. “A distraction,” he said. “That’s what we need.” He stared at the replenished shelves of illegal goods, some now so full that they were almost spilling over the edges. “That’s it! Ella, can you try and get Brain and the others to help you out in here where they’ll be out of the way. Say that you’re running out of room to store all the packages or something, I don’t know. Just come up with an excuse that means you’ll keep all of them away from the van for a while. I should only need a couple of seconds, that’s all.” Ella still looked unsure; she was looking around at the shelves with a mixture of worry and unease, as if she somehow expected one of the K.O members to be listening in on their conversation at that very moment. But there was nobody else there. They were completely alone. As Jack had just said, the others hadn’t left the drop-zone since the van had arrived. “But what if I mess up and they-” “Come on, Ella. We need to do this.” Ella took a deep breath then nodded. “Fine,” she said and puffed out her cheeks. “I’ll try my best.” “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.” Jack reached over and patted his fellow junior agent warmly on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine, honest. If you can evade five triad men armed with guns, this’ll be a walk in the park. Just remember the key to coming up with bullshit and you’ll be fine.” “Always act confident,” Ella mumbled under her breath and Jack nodded. “That’s right. Now let’s go, before the others start getting suspicious.” They hurried back down the alleyway and slowed to a brisk walk just as they turned the corner back into the drop-off zone. Rex and Marlon were leaning against two of the crates with fresh cigarettes in their mouths while Brain was busy chatting with Ed about the next delivery schedule. Jack eyed Ella and gave her a subtle nod before wandering casually over towards the crates to pick up his next package. Ella nervously tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, focused her mind on the task in hand and then approached Brain. From beside the crates with his hands reaching inside for another block of currency, Jack listened closely to every word that was spoken. “Uh, sorry to interrupt your conversation, Brain, but we’ve got a bit of a problem over in the store room.” “What?” Brain demanded, suddenly fixing his attention on Ella. “What problem?” “Oh, no, it’s nothing serious. It’s just that we’re beginning to run out of shelf space and there are still about two and a half crates to go.” “Oh… oh, I see.” Brain breathed a small sigh of relief. “No, that happens all the time. Can only be expected when you’re the biggest retailer of illegal in the worlds, eh?” Ella smiled politely and tried not to fidget. “I’ll come and give you a hand shifting some of the stuff. I’ve got experience when it comes to knowing where the best place for everything is.” “Uh, there is quite a lot of stock in there,” Ella said hurriedly. “And the room is getting awfully cramped. Wouldn’t it be better if Rex and Marlon came along and helped us as well, seeing as they’re no longer busy.” Inside Ella tensed, just waiting for the moment when Brain demanded to know what she was playing at. “Yes… I suppose that might work. Rex! Marlon! Come and give us a hand with something quickly.” The two men groaned and portrayed their annoyance by puffing strongly on their cigarettes, but neither of them complained verbally and reluctantly trawled after Brain and Ella as they set off down the alleyway. Ed watched them go and then, realising that he was beginning to get cold, clambered back into his cabin and closed the door. The opportunity was almost too good to be true. This was the only chance that Jack was ever going to get. Quickly, he placed the money back in the crate and hurried over towards the van, approaching it from the driver’s blind side. There was no knowing how long Ella could keep the others preoccupied for – it could be seconds or it could be minutes – but either way, Jack was going to have to be quick. When he didn’t turn up at the store room soon with the next load of packages, one of them was sure to smell a rat. He pulled the tracking device from his pocket and knelt down at the rear of the van, glancing around warily in case someone suddenly appeared. If they did, he might just be able to buy himself out of the situation by claiming he was tying his shoelaces. But when no one appeared, he reached out and pressed the tracking device against the underside of the van, at the same time activating it by pressing the button on the main face. The magnet was instantly attracted to the metal chassis and stuck fast with a soft clang. When Jack let go, the tracking device remained where it was. The tracker was in place. Heart racing, Jack sprinted back to the crates and scooped up two blocks of bank notes in his arms. He then quickly carried them round to the storage room where Brain was busy barking out orders to a disgruntled Rex, Marlon and Ella. “There, that should do the trick,” he mumbled, admiring his alterations. “Place those blocks inside, Jack, and let’s see how much more room there is.” The others stepped aside and Jack reached up to push the money into its correct place. There wasn’t much extra space, but the distraction had served its purpose and it was now time to set things back to normal as soon as possible. “Yeah, that’s much better,” Jack lied. “Thanks.” “Any time. Now let’s get those last few crates emptied so that we can all be back home in time for the evening news.” “The evening news,” Rex snorted under his breath. “That’ll be the day.” With four members now manning the shuttling duties, the group made light work of the remaining few crates and soon the storage room was overflowing to the brim with new stock. All that was left in the drop-off zone were the carcasses of the crates, all to be dismantled and taken by Marlon to the nearest incinerator once they all finally left for home. No one would ever know they had existed. No one would ever know the dark secrets that they had once contained. That just left the delivery van and Brain walked up to the cabin door to see Ed off with the others hanging back by the clubhouse. “Have a good journey, mate,” he said and patted the side of the van, the now hollow inside echoing like an oil drum. “Stay out of trouble.” “Will do, Mr Brian, sir,” Ed nodded and promptly started up the rumbling diesel engine. And so, under the cover of darkness, the van picked up speed and set off down the street once more, the red taillights flashing like two evil eyes in the pitch black. *Lancaster loved motorbikes. The speed, the agility, the noise… the addictive sensation of wind rushing passed you along with pretty much everything else. Sports cars were all well and good, but a decent motorbike was about a hundred times cooler and better looking. Nothing beat them. And the Yamaha YZF-R1 that he currently straddled was one of the very best. Based on Yamaha’s MotoGP bikes, the YZF-R1 had been built by the company with only one thing in mind: getting the rider from A to B in as little time as possible. Acceleration happened in a blur, a puff of exhaust fumes and a streak of burnt rubber on the tarmac the only signs that the bike had ever been there. Flat out the bike could hit three hundred kilometres an hour, a top speed that left most of your average Porsche’s and Mercedes’ trailing in the dust. But Lancaster reckoned he wouldn’t need to go quite that fast today. After all, they were only following a van. But whatever K.O had to throw at him, he was ready. Lancaster was parked about two kilometres from the Golden Sun’s secret location in the heart of Kowloon, resting inconspicuously near the front entrance of a local all-night food store. He’d been waiting there for well over an hour now, not taking any risks when it came to missing the van. He had every confidence in Jack and Ella that they’d do their job and do it well, the satnav-like screen attached to the dashboard ready to confirm that as soon as the tracking device was activated. At the moment there was only one arrow among the tight, confined network of streets – a blue one. This was Lancaster. The second arrow was red and didn’t appear on the screen until almost quarter to nine. Lancaster reacted instantly, the satnav giving him a couple of warning beeps in case he hadn’t been paying attention. But that was never going to happen. This was perhaps the most important day so far in the progress of the mission. He wasn’t going to mess this up. Lancaster snapped down his helmet visor and powered the engine, prepared for the off. The noise that greeted his ears was like thunder on a stormy night, the low rumble so powerful that he could feel his heart tremble inside. He loved that sound. It was the sound of a monster awakening, a formidable beast clawing its way out from the pits of hell. And it was angry. For Lancaster, there were few things such as satisfying in the whole entire world. Even his wife was only scraping just ahead. Put it on the radio instead of all that hip-hop and R&B crap any day of the week. The van didn’t move off straight away, but Lancaster had been expecting that. It would have been leaving it a bit fine on Jack and Ella’s behalf if they’d managed to attach and activate the tracking device within seconds of the van preparing to leave. Five minutes later, the red arrow started to pull away from the anonymous dark square that Lancaster knew was K.O’s secret clubhouse. He steered the Yamaha out of the car park and set off in pursuit. The engine hummed softly as Lancaster paused at the first of what would be many traffic lights on his journey. The red arrow had taken an immediate left after leaving the clubhouse and was now following a street that would take it to the main road running through Hong Kong, at which point it would be able to turn in any direction it should choose. The traffic light turned green and Lancaster roared on the accelerator, easily pulling away from the vehicle behind before sweeping round so that he was travelling west, following a road that was exactly parallel to the one that the van was on. When the van slowed down, so did Lancaster, not wanting to get ahead of himself. When the van sped up again, Lancaster followed suit. Two different vehicles, but it was almost as if they were being controlled by the same remote. The van seemed to be having more luck with the traffic than Lancaster and reached the main road first, pausing for just a few moments before turning so that it was now heading northbound… away from the city. Interesting, Lancaster thought, before suddenly realising that the van was going to pass him at any moment. In other agents, panic might have started to build up at this sudden news, but Lancaster was calm and experienced enough to stay cool and know that it wasn’t going to make a difference. The driver didn’t know him and even if he did, he would never recognise him behind the riding leathers and full helmet. And that was even supposing that the driver actually looked in his direction. Lancaster was the third vehicle in the chain waiting for the traffic lights to change and made a point of ducking behind the car in front as much as possible as the red arrow on the screen rapidly neared. Any moment… now. Lancaster looked up and caught his very first glimpse of the K.O delivery van. The sight was somewhat unspectacular, and a bit of an anti-climax after all the mystery that had been surrounding it. The van was like any other van that Lancaster had seen in his forty years on Planet Earth; plain, boring and, in this case, white. Certainly, it was no match for the YZF-R1 in the looks department. When the lights changed, Lancaster pulled into the main road about half a kilometre behind the van – a close yet comfortable distance which meant Lancaster would have time to react should anything unexpected occur up front. But it didn’t. Lancaster maintained the gap as constantly as he could, only closing up whenever they hit a set of traffic lights, and quickly they left the city altogether; the tall skyscrapers mere specks in Lancaster’s side mirrors. They were now in open countryside, venturing into an area of Hong Kong that Lancaster had never had the privilege of seeing before. He was sure they could have gone on day trips that would have taken them on pleasant walks of the many country parks in Hong Kong, but that wouldn’t have really been appropriate in the context of the mission. They weren’t here for a holiday. They weren’t here to settle down and admire the scenery. They were here to carry out a mission. But now that Lancaster could admire it with his very own eyes, he could tell that they’d been missing out. Rolling hills and mountains surrounded him in all directions, looking very much like large hillocks on an extremely wide and expansive golf course. The greenery was lush and fresh from the humid conditions of the day, only broken on the steepest and highest outcrops where it became a dull brown of solid rock. It was a nice contrast. They had been travelling through the countryside for less than a minute before all signs of human life had been completely obscured behind the mountains, like the moon blotting out the sun during a solar eclipse. Only a halo of artificial light could be seen shimmering in the night air behind them, and even that was faint. Tranquillity met chaos as the 998cc 4-cylinder engine continued to grow and rumble in Lancaster’s ears, splitting the peacefulness as effectively as a nuclear bomb. This brought up a slight problem as in the wide, open, lonely world that they currently found themselves in, noise was going to travel far. And when the only natural noises were the tweeting of birds, the gentle patter of rain and the swashing of waves in the distance, the yowl of a powerful engine revved to the maximum torque was going to stand out like an eagle in a robin’s nest. So Lancaster thought about this quickly and tuned the engine down so that it was now only purring like a tabby cat, not roaring like a full-grown African lion. Then, he pressed on. Lancaster didn’t see the van again for another thirty minutes, the country road having seemingly been draped upon the landscape like a ribbon before being set into tarmac. Whenever Lancaster reached the crest of a hill, the van would be hidden behind the next one and vice versa. But Lancaster preferred it this way. Indeed, it was probably a lot safer. Like the sound of the engine, a bright headlight would carry far when the only light came from the glow of the crescent moon way up above. It was a long and lonely journey, driving through the countryside seemingly in the middle of nowhere. But not for one second was Lancaster ever bored. First and foremost he was trained not to be bored; any mission worth undertaking in the first place required his total concentration and attention from the moment it began to the moment it ended. Getting distracted was when you started making mistakes, and Lancaster had seen as many as anyone in his two decades working for Britain’s secret intelligence service. But secondly, the road itself kept Lancaster constantly on his toes. It was clear that it wasn’t a road that people drove along often simply because of how neat and unworn it looked. And when you were forced to negotiate tight apexes and steep descents in the pitch darkness, Lancaster wasn’t surprised. Out here on the winding roads, the Yamaha came into its own. The specially designed tyres stayed glued to the road surface like a limpet, reacting instantly to every turn and manoeuvre that Lancaster made with the handlebars. And even then, he did have his hairy moments. At the bottom of a valley, a small puddle had settled in the middle of the road and because of the overwhelming darkness he didn’t spot it until right at the last moment. The bike had skidded sideways for several metres, almost taking Lancaster off the edge of the road and down the hillside, but at the last moment he’d managed to regain control and straighten the steering up, zooming back up the slope with his heart racing as fast as his bike. He could only begin to imagine what it must be like for the K.O member, having to make this journey in a four tonne van with all the steering qualities of a rusting barge. But then again, what with all the deliveries that K.O made, they were probably used to it by now. Speaking of the van… Lancaster was suddenly aware that the van had slowed down and braked sharply, almost throwing himself over the handlebars. He slowed the bike down to a crawl and climbed to the top of the next hill where he’d have a better vantage point, cutting the headlights at the same time. Yes, the van had slowed down. In fact, it had now come to a complete stop. This was much more promising. Lancaster decided to cut the engine entirely and wheeled the bike the last few metres, arriving at the top of the hill as silently and invisibly as a puff of wind. He kicked out the bike prop and left the Yamaha on the side of the road, venturing forward a few metres and then dropping down onto his stomach so that he would have a perfect view of the unfolding events. And what a view… They’d come to the edge of the land, a single large mountain blotching the horizon before it became sea and would stay as sea all the way across the Pacific Ocean until it hit West-coast America on the opposite side of the world. Waves crashed aggressively against the base of the cliff, kicking up a salty spray before receding back into the water. At World’s End… isn’t that what the Pirates of the Caribbean film had been called? It certainly felt like it now. They’d reached the end of the line - Lancaster just knew it. Soon K.O’s deepest secrets were going to be revealed. The van had stopped at the trough of the valley, where the winding road banked sharply to the left before continuing back towards the mainland. But the strange thing was that there was nothing that immediately suggested a secret hideout in the vicinity. There was no building, no signs, no other vehicles. No nothing. They were simply in the middle of nowhere with just a few shrubs and a cawing bird for company. So why had the van stopped here? Was there something that Lancaster couldn’t see, camouflaged in against the landscape? Lancaster removed a pair of professional binoculars from the pack on his back and put them to his eyes. And in the distant light coming from the van’s headlights, he could just make out the signs of a rubble and dirt track snaking up towards the mountain. The driver clambered out onto the grass and Lancaster instinctively flattened himself against the earth, hoping that the undergrowth would distort his body shape. The driver looked around once, only briefly, then walked round to the front of the van and disappeared from sight. Lancaster put the binoculars back to his eyes and peered down into the valley, but he couldn’t see the driver. Lancaster started to feel slightly anxious. Where had he gone? Had he been seen? Or perhaps more importantly, what was he going to do? He needn’t have worried. The driver reappeared seconds later and hauled himself back up into the van. The door closed, the wheels spun and the vehicle started to trundle up the dirt path towards the mountain. Lancaster frowned and stared at the spot where the van had stopped, wondering if he’d missed anything. But all that was there were a few muddy footprints, tufts of long grass and a small rock about the size of a human head. If Lancaster had been expecting a turret gun or an underground hatch, he was left bitterly disappointed. But there must have been a reason why the driver had got out, surely? It couldn’t have been just to stretch his legs and catch a few breaths of fresh air (although by the look of him, he needed both). The van was halfway up the slope and nearing the foot of the mountain, Lancaster following it through the binoculars every metre of the way. The track was rough, narrow and winding, but the driver handled it perfectly in the large vehicle, as if he’d already done it hundreds of times before. It reached the foot of the mountain and slowed, coming to a flat rocky outcrop that might have once been created by falling boulders. Then it carefully continued round the side of the mountain until it had disappeared from view, the valley suddenly becoming extremely dark and forbidding with the absence of its main light source. Lancaster switched the binoculars to night-vision setting and lay there patiently, watching the point on the side of the mountain where the van had last been seen. A particularly large wave smashed against the rock and in the still night air, Lancaster heard it clearly. It struck him that if the van had been circling the mountain, it would have gone right up close to the edge of the cliff. Might it have fallen in? Was that actually what the big crash had been? Lancaster hoped so, but somehow he doubted it. By the way the driver had steered the van up there, he clearly knew what he was doing. This was all part of the routine. Lancaster must have lain there for another fifteen minutes, allowing the cold to tear at his body like a scavenging hyena with every passing second, but the van didn’t reappear. This time, it had gone for good. Lancaster sighed and stood up. So this was where the trail ended, quite literally. And although Lancaster had made progress tonight that he could only have dreamed of several days ago, if anything there were even more questions tugging at his mind now than had been answered. The discovery had opened up a whole new wealth of possibilities, none of which made any sense. It was true that he would never have stumbled across this place in a million years if he hadn’t tracked the van, but where exactly was here? It was as nondescript as, well, the white van. Why had it come here? Where had it gone to when it had disappeared round the mountain? Was it trying to hide anything? And why of all the mountains in the whole of Hong Kong was it this one? The list was endless. Lancaster could have been running each one through his mind until dawn and he still wouldn’t have been finished. Dawn… The idea of a new day suddenly made Lancaster very tired and all of the driving of the last half an hour began to catch up with him. His legs were as unresponsive as corpses, his head – still covered by the helmet – as heavy as a triple chocolate fudge cake with extra icing. All he wanted to do was lie down and close his eyes, allow the grass to become his mattress for the night. But he was awake enough to know that was crazy. He was in the middle of nowhere and if he didn’t report back to the others pronto, they’d be shitting themselves panicking about where he might’ve got to. Besides, there were two more things he needed to do. First, he glanced one last time at the screen on the dashboard – the red arrow had now stopped moving entirely on what must have been the opposite side of the mountain – and then brought up a large black button which he pressed down on instantly. Wherever it was, Lancaster knew that the tracking device would have just self-destructed underneath the K.O van; the small amount of explosive inside detonating powerfully but silently, as designed by MI6’s chief scientists back in London. And if anyone happened to look underneath when the van went in for its next MOT or something (did K.O allow MOT checks?) there wouldn’t be a single trace of the tracking device left to be found. It would have all disintegrated into an extremely fine powder that would be lost forever in the smallest gust of wind. Now for the second thing. Again he reached inside his backpack and this time brought out what looked like an SLR camera mounted upon a small tripod. It was indeed a camera, but not one that you could walk into any Canon shop and buy straight off the counter. For starters, it would cost you five times as much because of the in-built remote control zoom and manoeuvrability feature. It could also change into ten different picture settings, produce a picture quality exceeding twenty-five mega pixels and was both water and weather resistant. But mainly it was because this camera had been specifically produced for Ministry of Defence usage… in the field of surveillance. Lancaster carried the camera well away from the road and then rigged it up on a flat patch of land where it would have a perfect view of all the action on and around the mountainside. The tripod dug deep into the earth and gave it impeccable stability while the specially designed camouflage colour would help it merge well with its surroundings. Even so, Lancaster made sure it was well hidden inside a small shrub before deciding that he was satisfied. He returned back to his motorbike, did a last sweep of the area to make sure he hadn’t left anything that he shouldn’t have and wheeled it down from the top of the hill before saddling up again. Backpack, check. Camera in place, check. Right, it was time to go. As quietly as he could, Lancaster started the engine and began moving once more. His eyelids were sagging, his mouth stifling yawn upon yawn. But if there was one thing that was going to keep him awake tonight, it was the surge of new questions hurtling through his mind like a continuous electric current: Where was the van? Would the camera be spotted? What to do next…? It was enough to give anyone a nightmare. 4Full ContactAfter another uneventful day, Jack sat on his bed with his back pressed against the wall flicking through a geography text book – one of the A Levels he’d decided to take back when he was at Ashbrook High. His head was slightly woozy after perhaps one too many drinks at the clubhouse - he blamed Charlie and a game of spin the bottle (a shot of vodka for whoever it landed on) for that - but if there was one thing that succeeded in numbing the brain even more successfully it was schoolwork. Studying the rock formations along the south coast of England was a prime example. Jack puffed out his cheeks and exhaled loudly as he went over sedimentary rock for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last hour. But his mind just wasn’t into it. All the information just went straight through his head and out the other side. It was hopeless. He closed the book and tossed it to one side, planning to pick up where he left off tomorrow when perhaps he wasn’t so knackered. It was now ten o’clock and Jack figured he could do with an early night for once, so wearily got to his feet, grabbed a spare change of boxers and headed towards the door. He was just reaching for the door handle when it opened, swinging inwards and almost knocking Jack flat onto his back. “Oh sorry, Jack,” Lancaster said. “Didn’t see you there.” “Evidently,” Jack muttered. “Are you alright?” “Yeah, fine. I was just doing a bit of school revision.” “Pull the other one,” Lancaster grinned. “You wouldn’t open up a text book if it offered you a million pounds.” Jack shrugged. “Don’t believe me then.” “I won’t.” “So, is there a reason why you’re here or is it just so that you can poke fun at me and insult my intelligence?” “I want to show you something,” Lancaster said, beckoning Jack out into the corridor. “It won’t take a minute, I promise.” Jack frowned suspiciously, suspecting a trap. “What something?” “It’s not anything dangerous if that’s what you worried about,” Lancaster said. “Come on, the others are all waiting.” Jack eventually agreed and followed Lancaster out into the corridor. The senior agent led him to the kitchen table where everyone else was already gathered tightly around the open MacBook laptop. “This should be right up your street, Jack,” Lancaster said. “Scuse me, can I get through.” Toby and Fred shuffled over on the bench so that Lancaster could reach the keyboard. He clicked a few buttons and then brought a full image up onto the screen. “Everyone just sit back and watch,” he said, the cursor hovering over a play button in the bottom corner of the screen. He pressed down and everyone stared intently as the video began to play out. It showed a view that was as black and dense as tar, the only light coming from the faint crescent moon that hovered way up in the night sky. Jack could see it reflecting on the surface of the sea way off on the right, the waves rippling as they ploughed towards shore. But that was about the only thing he could see. The rest was a total mystery. “I can’t see anything,” Fred complained, moving his head about in case it was a trick of the light. “It’s a dud.” “You’re not supposed to be watching anything,” Lancaster replied patiently, his arms folded. “At least not yet anyway. Just listen… listen closely… and then maybe that will give you a clue about what this is all about.” And so they did. Toby and Fred stopped fidgeting about and sat perfectly still, so silent that they could hear each other’s breath as they stared in anticipation at the screen. And then they heard something. They all did. So quiet at first that they wondered if they might’ve made a mistake, but then it grew and grew until the distinct sound of an engine was echoing out of the laptop speakers. “A car!” Toby shouted out loud. “It’s gotta be.” “That’s the mistake that I made at first as well,” Lancaster replied. “But listen more carefully. The noise is too rumbly and too monotonous. Do you hear? It’s all one constant sound. A car or a bike engine is whiny in comparison and changes in pitch as it builds up the revs. It definitely isn’t a land vehicle.” “A helicopter then?” Ella suggested. Lancaster smiled. “Let’s see what the video says, shall we?” He pressed another button on the laptop and suddenly the whole image changed. Now everything was basked in a luminous green glow, as if a vat of nuclear waste had been poured over the whole scene. But it also made visibility a lot clearer and the group could now see that what they were actually looking at was a tall mountain positioned on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. If there was nicer weather and it was at a better time of day, it might have been a popular beauty spot. “So this is where the van disappeared?” Sophie said, piecing the accurate description that Lancaster had given them a few days ago when he’d finally returned back to the apartment at midnight with the image that was now in front of her on the screen. “K.O’s secret base?” Lancaster said. “Yeah, as far as we know. And look now what’s about to join the party.” He raised a finger and pointed just as a dark object suddenly swept into view, speeding over the Hong Kong mountainside as lightly and effortlessly as a cloud. It was a helicopter alright, Jack thought, and a rather large one at that. From this distance he couldn’t be sure, but it looked very much like a Boeing CH-47 Chinook. In terms of this beast, it really was survival of the biggest. Along with the C-130 Hercules and the UH-1 Iroquois, it was the only helicopter from the 1960s that was still in production today. And on this showing, it wasn’t planning on retiring just yet. “CH-47 Chinook,” Lancaster confirmed. “These are the most important facts about it: it has a top speed of 170 knots, a cargo space of 42 cubic metres and room to accommodate thirty-three fully equipped soldiers comfortably - including me on several occasions. Its primary roles during modern warfare include troop movement, artillery emplacement and battlefield resupply. But I have a feeling that K.O aren’t using this particular model for any of those things.” The helicopter moved surprisingly quickly for such a huge machine and in the few seconds that Lancaster had been talking it had reached the mountain and was now hovering over the peak, its rotor blades keeping it perfectly balanced despite the wind. Then all of a sudden it started to descend, gradually, until like the white van it too had disappeared behind the mountain. “That was taken precisely fifteen minutes ago by the surveillance camera I rigged up overlooking the mountain,” Lancaster explained. “The helicopter hasn’t reappeared as of yet, but I’m sure it can only be a matter of time. Like the van, it is very much used to travelling back and forth from that place.” “A delivery helicopter,” Jack mumbled and the others nodded in agreement. “So that’s how K.O make their international deliveries?” “It seems so,” Lancaster nodded. “Although, of course, it doesn’t rule out the possibility of other modes of transport; container ships, for example.” “And that mountain,” Ella said, pointing at the screen. Now that the helicopter had gone, the image could have just been a photograph. “Surely this means it’s definitely K.O’s secret base now? Why else would both a helicopter and the delivery van turn up one after the other?” “We can’t rule anything out,” Lancaster replied, “But it’s certainly looking that way. Whatever its purpose, there’s definitely something secretive going on down there that no one else knows about. And if we’re to succeed in this mission, chances are we’re going to need to find out what.” “So what are we going to do about it?” Toby asked excitedly, practically bouncing up and down on the wooden bench. “Storm the mountain with machine guns and Kevlar vests?” “Nah, Juggernaut suits are way more effective,” Fred corrected. “That’s what they use on the new Call of Duty.” “Yes, except this isn’t a video game, durbrain,” Toby scoffed. “If you get hit in the head by a bullet on COD, the screen flashes red and your vision goes a bit blurry. Stroll into the K.O base and get hit in the same place, I can guarantee that the results are going to be slightly different.” “Yeah, yeah, keep your wig on. It was only a joke.” “Alright, that’s enough you two,” Sophie said firmly. “Break it up. This isn’t a situation to make jokes about.” “What about the SWAT team?” Jack suggested. “Isn’t this the kind of secret information they’re looking for?” Lancaster scratched his hair thoughtfully. “It is,” he agreed, “But I don’t think it’s even nearly enough to justify a full scale attack. I mean, we may now know that it’s a K.O base, but in terms of security systems and defensive mechanisms we’re completely in the dark. If we send in a SWAT team and it turns out they’ve got sentry guns set up around the whole perimeter then it’s going to be a bloodbath, an absolute massacre. Field Marshall Haig got his tactics wrong at the Battle of the Somme and how did that turn out? I’m not going to make the same mistake, that’s for sure, and that means not rushing into a rash decision. “I suggest we just bide our time and see how things play out. Discovering this secret location is a big positive, but until we learn more about it it’s not going to be very useful. Jack, Ella, keep your eyes and ears peeled in case anything crops up that might be relevant to the base while I’ll keep checking up on the camera footage to see if anything else leaves or arrives. But until another major breakthrough comes along, let’s just carry on exactly the same way that we’ve been doing for the past two and a bit months. There’s no point taking risks now that we’ve come this far.” Lancaster closed the video footage and shut down the laptop, ready to turn in for the night. “Now off to bed the lot of you,” he said. “We’ve got some big days ahead of us.” *The personal gym was state-of-the-art and as new and neat and modern as a contemporary sculpture. It had been built on the top floor of the King’s luxury penthouse, on the opposite side of the corridor from Calvin’s private office. The tiled walls were chequered black and white like a chess board, the rubber tiles on the floor soft and springy to the touch so as to reduce the risk of an accident. All the equipment could have come straight out of the factory and looked as if they hadn’t been touched since. The metal weights in one corner gleamed like a shiny penny while the leather seating on the exercise bikes didn’t have a single crease in them. Jack began to wonder whether anybody actually used the room on a regular basis or whether it was just for show. It wouldn’t be the first time. However, today it was in use; Jack and Charlie both milling around the open dance and gymnastics area in the far corner of the room. The waist-high railing that you used to keep your balance was attached to the panoramic window, so that when you were stretching your thighs or practicing yoga moves you could watch the cars crawl across Hong Kong down below. Staring out across the skyline and realising how badly they dwarfed the other buildings, Jack suddenly began to understand why Calvin King should choose such a place to live. Up here you really were on top of the world and if the great gods did really live high up in the sky, then you weren’t going to get much closer than this. “Hang on a minute,” Charlie said, scratching his head with confusion. “Tell me how to do it again, just one more time.” Jack sighed. “It’s simple - just perform a regular flash kick, but twist your body a hundred-and-eighty degrees halfway through.” “I thought you said after the kick?” Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s the same thing, muppet.” “Oh, right… can you show me?” “What? For the fifth time in the last sixty seconds?” “Yes.” “Fine.” Jack moved into the centre of the mat and got into the ready position with his knees bent and his feet side by side. Then he pushed up and performed a back flip, his right leg sticking out from the rest of his body and providing the blow that would knock out his opponent. Then halfway through he twisted his body round and landed smoothly on both feet, now facing the opposite way to which he’d started. “There, I told you it was simple.” “I can do the flash kick no problem,” Charlie muttered, still not entirely sure how he was supposed to do it, “But it’s the twist thing in the middle that I don’t get. What’s even the point of it?” “How the heck should I know? I didn’t make the move up,” Jack replied, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “You just asked me to teach you the Charlie kick and so that’s what I’m doing.” “You’re a shit teacher.” “And you’re a shit pupil. Maybe if you actually had a go at the move instead of moaning then you’d find out that it’s really not that hard.” “Fine, whatever.” Charlie replaced Jack in the centre of the mat and stood there, summoning up his courage. “Just remember, if you do cock up then you’ll only break half the bones in your body, not all of them.” “Right… thanks a lot, Jack.” “My pleasure.” Charlie gritted his teeth and went for it. He started off well, gaining good height with his jump and stretching out his kicking leg to just the right length. But like he’d said, it was the twist that he was struggling with and that was when it all went wrong. He tried to throw his body round rather than let it spin agilely and as a result ended up plummeting face-first straight into the mat. “Ah, shit… bollocks!” Charlie yelled, quickly scrambling up from the mat and pinching his nose as blood started to drip from his bashed nose. “I told you I couldn’t do it.” To make matters worse, there was a shriek of laughter from the doorway and they both spun round to see Charlotte leaning against the door frame dressed in grey jogging pants and a bright pink tank top. “Oh no…” Charlie moaned and looked accusingly at Jack. “I thought you bloody locked the door?” Jack shrugged one shoulder. “Must have forgotten.” “Dickhead.” “Now that was the funniest thing I’ve seen all week,” Charlotte grinned, strolling into the gym with an iPhone in her hand. “How many hits do you think I’ll get by next week if I upload it to YouTube right now?” “You did not…” Charlie growled. Charlotte smiled sweetly and turned the phone round so that they could see the screen. Jack cringed and Charlie’s face turned a ghostly white as they both watched the latter face plant the ground once more. “I’m thinking a million… perhaps two million…” “Give that to me,” Charlie snapped and made a lunge for it. Charlotte easily held it out of his reach and dangled it tantalisingly in the air, mocking him. “Come and get it, Jackie Chan.” “Oh you are so dead when I get my hands on you.” Jack could only stand and watch as Charlie scrambled after his sister, chasing her around the cross trainer, over the pair of rowing machines and between the treadmills before Charlotte sprinted back towards Jack and ducked behind him. “Protect me, Jack,” she said, clinging on to the back of his shirt. “Knock him out with one of your karate kick thingies.” “It wouldn’t be too hard,” Jack admitted as a fuming Charlie trudged up towards them. “Delete it now,” he demanded. Charlotte pretended to think about it. “Tempting, but no thanks,” she said. “I’ll pass.” “This isn’t fair. You’ve got no right to keep hold of that video, let alone put it on the web.” Charlotte snorted. “Rights? Come on, Charles, you’re going to have to do a bit better than that to turn me around.” “Don’t call me that,” Charlie snapped. “It’s not my name. And how about a punch to the face? Is that enough to turn you around?” “Ooh,” Charlotte teased. “Someone’s getting tetchy.” That was the final straw. “Now you’re for it!” Charlie made another lunge at Charlotte, but Jack quickly stepped in the way as his girlfriend shrieked and cowered behind his back. “Sorry, can’t let you do that I’m afraid.” “Why? ‘Cause she’s a girl?” “Well, yeah.” “Tough, she’s my sister and she needs to start showing a bit more respect towards her elders. Now get out of the way.” Charlie tried to barge passed, but Jack blocked him again. “Don’t make me have to floor you again, mate,” Jack warned. “And don’t kid yourself that you might have a chance of beating me, because you know as well as I do that that’s not going to happen.” Despite his enraged state, Charlie’s head was clear enough to realise that what Jack had said was very much true and that any fight at all would only end up making things worse for himself. “Fine, have it your way,” he scowled. “Protect your stupid girlfriend. But if you’re anything of a ‘mate’ to me, you’d tell her to wipe the whole video off her phone this second.” Jack turned round and looked down at Charlotte, smiling awkwardly. “You heard him, babe.” Charlotte lifted up her phone to reveal a blank screen. “Already done,” she said. “Let me see that,” Charlie said, quickly snatching it off her and skimming through the video records. “I’d rather trust a terrorist with my Pin number than you keeping to your word about something.” “Fine, don’t believe me then,” Charlotte said and waited patiently with her arms folded for Charlie to finish. After checking the contents three times over, and once more just for good measure, Charlie reluctantly handed back the phone and scowled. “Just because I can’t find it, it doesn’t mean you still haven’t got a copy.” “Whatever.” “Look, if Charlotte says she’s deleted it, I’m sure she’s deleted it,” Jack said. “And that’s the end of the matter. Now, how about I cheer everyone up with a little magic trick?” “Magic tricks are for gays,” Charlie muttered. “Then we’ve got the perfect volunteer,” Jack grinned. “Only kidding, mate. Now hold out you arm.” “What? Why?” “Because I said so.” Charlie groaned. “Fine…” He held out his right hand. “Now grab hold of my left arm and twist it round as hard as you can,” Jack instructed. “Consider it revenge for making you look like an idiot just now. I’ll take it as the more painful you make it, the more you’d like to kick me straight in the plums.” Charlie grinned and licked his lips. “Alright.” He grabbed Jack’s arm just above the wrist and twisted it round with all his strength. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Jack muttered, not putting up any resistance and allowing Charlie to twist his arm and body out of shape. When Charlie stopped, his forearm was burning and his whole upper body had been bent over with his elbow sticking up in the air. “That’s good. Hold it there. Now, do you think there’s any way that I can get out of this which doesn’t involve attacking you in any form?” “What, so no kicking?” “No kicking whatsoever, however tempting the idea.” Charlie smiled and twisted Jack’s arm a little further, enjoying the sense of control and power he was experiencing. “Then I’d say you were pretty screwed.” Jack raised his eyebrows with interest. “Really? You think so?” “Yep.” Charlie turned the arm another notch so that the tendons in Jack’s shoulder were practically bursting alight with pain. Any further and it would be dislocated for sure. But despite this, Jack could only smile. “Well then, watch this…” Jack suddenly leapt up and somersaulted to the side, using his twisted arm as a pivot to spin around. He moved in the opposite direction to which Charlie had twisted in, so that after the full 360 degree turn Jack’s arm was perfectly straight again. But he didn’t stop there. He kept on spinning… 540… 720… And as he landed, he stuck out one leg and swept it expertly underneath Charlie’s body. His victim didn’t even know anything had happened until he felt a sharp pain shoot up his right arm as it was twisted out of shape and a sudden whack as something hard caught him round the ankles. Then he found himself falling… falling… his legs having been pulled away from beneath him. The mat rushed up towards him once more and he closed his eyes, ready for the impact. But it didn’t come. There was a second jolt as his right arm stopped falling, keeping up the rest of his body with it. Charlie opened his eyes and found his face was dangling literally inches from the mat, so close that he could examine every single bead of scarlet as it dripped from his bloody nose to the floor. Another feature of the rubber surface was that it was easy to clean and maintain… and on this showing, that was probably a good thing. Charlie looked up to find that Jack was holding onto his right arm, preventing him from falling all the way. It was in that moment that Charlie realised this time he’d been done good and proper. “How about that for a magic trick?” Jack grinned, heaving Charlie up and then letting go of his arm so that he could go back to pinching his nose. “Neat or what?” Charlotte nodded. “I bet Charles couldn’t do it,” she smiled, raising her eyebrows towards her brother. The gauntlet had been laid. “Are you serious? I could so do that,” Charlie retorted, his eyes flaring with rage at the mention of his birth name again. “All it is is a sideways somersaulted.” “Go on then,” Charlotte challenged. “Prove it.” “Duh! Haven’t you seen my bloody nose, you stupid, blind woman? If I try doing a somersault then the blood will go absolutely everywhere.” “Oh, I’m sure we could arrange for you to mop up,” Charlotte replied. “Might as well get used to it seeing as it’s the only job you’re going to get when you’re older.” “Oh yeah, and you’re a grade A student all round,” Charlie muttered sarcastically. “Don’t think I don’t know how atrocious your last school report was.” “Stop trying to change the subject, chicken. Now are you going to try it or are you just going to wuss out like you usually do?” “Actually, I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you try it? Go on, go on. I bet you don’t even make it halfway through the first spin.” Charlie held out his right arm again, daring her to give it a go. Charlotte had done gymnastics for a few years, reaching the point where she could perform somersaults and cartwheels without any assistance and on any surface. But that had been almost five years ago and what with her extra height and her lack of practice, now she wasn’t so confident. “I’m not a fighting person,” she said defiantly. “It goes against my morals.” Charlie laughed scornfully. “Never mind human rights, that’s got to be the shittest excuse in the whole entire history of shit excuses. Although, in your case, I suppose it’s true.” “Exactly. My point proven.” “The only time she’s ever fought someone,” Charlie said, turning towards Jack, “Was for the last pair of Gucci sunglasses at a designer sale in Westfield. Five per cent discount and she went at it like a flipping Alsatian with rabies.” “And did she win?” “Nah, she lost. The owner kicked her out of the shop for making such a tantrum and she was in a massive sulk for basically the rest of the week.” “That did not happen!” “Yeah it did.” “I let the other person have the sunglasses out of kindness; they weren’t even my style anyway.” “Kindness? Pah! You wouldn’t know kindness if started humping you naked in the shower.” “Shut up!” “Now look who’s the tetchy one. And you still lost the argument which just goes to show how shit you are in a fight. So until you at least have a decent go at that sideways flip thing, you’ve got nothing on me in the combat department, sis.” “Oh well, I guess I can just beat you at everything else then.” “Pussy. Come on, look, your boyfriend’s waiting for you to do something. Why don’t you have a go and show him how butch you really are?” “Look, she doesn’t have to try it if she doesn’t want to,” Jack intervened, trying to halt the argument before it progressed any further. Charlie rolled his eyes. “Oh take her side for once, why don’t you?” he shouted sarcastically. “What’s she promised to do this time? Show you her tits?” “Hey, that’s not fair,” Jack replied, standing his ground firmly. “You don’t have to do the trick either if you don’t want to.” “Good, ‘cause I don’t.” “Fine then. That’s sorted. Now how about you calm down and we try doing some of those karate moves again, yeah? Like we were supposed to.” “Spare me the crap,” Charlie muttered and stormed towards the exit. “I’ve gone off it.” The door slammed shut loudly and they heard Charlie’s angry footsteps as he stomped off down the corridor and down the stairs. A stunned silence filled the room, only interrupted by the shallow breathing of the remaining inhabitants. “Well, that went brilliantly,” Jack muttered, running a sweaty hand through his hair. Charlotte edged over and took hold of his arm. “It isn’t your fault,” she said comfortingly. “He’s always been like that.” “I know,” Jack replied. “I’m getting used to it by now. I just wish he was a little less unpredictable, that’s all. You never know when he’s gonna laugh something off and smile or take it as an insult and suddenly get really angry.” “Hey, consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to live in the same house as him,” Charlotte said. “It can drive you up the wall.” “Other than that he’s a decent mate. Except perhaps when he throws up down my shirt after one too many drinks at the club, but I can deal with that.” Jack stared at the door anxiously and bit his lip. “Do you think I should go and apologise? I did make him look like a bit of a twit with that last move.” “Nah, leave it. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Charlotte stood on her tip toes so that she could kiss Jack lightly on the lips. “Besides, he’ll calm down soon enough when he realises he’s got no one else to talk to.” “Yeah, but I still feel a bit bad…” “Hey, Jack, I never got to thank you for sticking up for me back there,” Charlotte purred. “Don’t you think that’s a little more important at this moment in time?” Jack grinned knowingly and leaned down slightly so that Charlotte could properly reach him. Their lips touched and suddenly they were full-on snogging, Charlotte holding Jack’s face against hers while he eagerly thrust his hands down the back of her jogging pants. They tottered round the room with their lips locked, almost tripping over one of the rowing machines in their excitement. No one else used the private gym while Charlie certainly wouldn’t be back for at least another half an hour, once he’d cooled off his foul mood with a couple of cans of lager from the fridge and a few listens of his favourite rock CDs. That meant, for now at least, they weren’t going to be interrupted. “Lock the door,” Charlotte mumbled, pulling her mouth away from Jack’s just long enough to utter those words. They made a staggered bee-line for the door and Jack turned the lock, sealing themselves inside. Then he started to help Charlotte remove her top. Once again, the thought of Jessica and how he was abusing her trust by doing this with Charlotte failed to escape his mind. He’d already ignored her and broken a promise once by going on the mission in the first place. Now he was doing it again and this time it was perhaps even severer. If she somehow found out… hell, she’d be heartbroken. Every time Jack went anywhere near Charlotte, there it was: a tsunami of culpability that surged over him, battering him, beating him, trying to knock him to the floor. So far he’d resisted. So far he’d managed to stay on his feet. But recently the cracks had been beginning to show and, like a crumbling dam, suddenly it all burst out of him at once. God, didn’t his conscience ever give him a moment’s peace? Jack felt bad. Really bad. He hadn’t meant for things to turn out this way. The guilt was building up inside of him like molten lava in a volcano, ready to explode. He knew that the right thing to do would be to stop and never let it happen again, but somehow he couldn’t quite pull himself together to do it. He wasn’t usually anxious about things – heck, he’d fought fearsome lions in an African gladiator ring without being nervous – but right here, right now he was absolutely terrified. Terrified what Jessica might think if she found out. Terrified what Jessica might do if she found out. Charlotte immediately noticed his hesitation and paused, her arms hanging loosely from around his neck. “What’s the matter?” she asked, staring at him curiously. “Is something wrong?” Jack sighed, his shoulders sagging like a puppet that had just had its strings cut. “It’s not you, Charlotte, it’s me,” he mumbled. “I just… I just don’t think this is right.” “Is it because of Charlie? Jack, just leave it. He’ll come round in his own time. He always does.” “No, it’s not that… it’s just… it’s...” Jack ran a hand through his hair. Why did this have to be so difficult? “Say it,” Charlotte demanded, her arms dropping from Jack’s neck. It took several awkward seconds for Jack to finally make up his mind. “Okay, I’m going to be honest with you, Charlotte. I- I already sort of have a girlfriend.” Charlotte took a step back and her eyes flared. “What? Here in Hong Kong?” “No, in London… back from when my family lived in Richmond. When we left, I- I’m not sure if I properly ended it with her.” It was a good job that the situation naturally called for stuttering, awkward unconvincing speech; otherwise Charlotte might’ve been able to tell that everything Jack was saying was made up. Then again, from Jack’s perspective, she looked a bit too preoccupied with shooting daggers at him to notice. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Charlotte muttered scornfully. “And I thought Charlie was the one with no brains in this group.” Jack stayed where he was, wringing his hands anxiously. So Charlotte continued: “It’s time to wake up, Jack,” she said, clapping her hands in front of his eyes and making him jump. “It’s time to look around you. Life moves on. People move on. Relationships move on. It’s all part of the natural cycle of life. It’s time for you to do the same. “This girl lives in England, on the other side of the world. Face it, Jack, you’re never going to see her again. You’ve started a new life here in Hong Kong. Don’t you think it’s now time to cut your ties with the past and start new relationships as well?” Jack scratched his head uncertainly. He really was shit at this. Or to be more precise, about as shit as the feeling that was currently lingering at the pit of his stomach. “Uh, yeah… I suppose.” “I suppose?” Charlotte scoffed. “Yeah, you just keep on supposing.” She turned around and started to pull her shirt back over her head. “No, Charlotte, wait!” Charlotte spun round like a ninja and slapped away Jack’s outstretched hand. His skin began to ache; almost as much as his heart. “I like you, Jack,” Charlotte admitted, staring at him crossly, “But I’m not going to be with you if all you’re ever going to be is half-hearted. Forget the past, start again and maybe things will work out between us. But until then, you’ve got some serious thinking to do.” Just like her elder brother before her, Charlotte stormed over to the door, unlocked it and then turned back to look at Jack. “Enjoy your afternoon. It won’t be with me.” Then she was gone, the door slamming loudly behind her. Jack groaned and buried his face in his hands. This was all wrong. He should have been feeling happy, happy that he’d remembered Jessica’s promise and seen it through. But instead he felt even worse than before. It hadn’t been his bravery that had resulted in Charlotte leaving him. It had been his stupidity. “Great, just great,” Jack muttered, feeling like smashing his head against the wall. He would have done, except he knew how much more it hurt than they lot on in the movies. “You turned up here with two friends, now you’ve got none. Not a bad score for one day… you complete and utter moron.” Jack sighed and wiped his sweaty forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. Oh well, he thought, there’s no point feeling sorry for yourself. He walked over to the side of the gym where he’d left a bottle of water and took several long sips before squirting the rest over his head. Then he grabbed his phone which he’d left alongside so that it didn’t fall out of his pocket while he was doing the karate and checked to see if he had any messages. Surprisingly, two came up straight away. The first one was from Brain and had been sent over an hour ago: Big delivery ready to be transported. Be at clubhouse this afternoon for 3 exactly. Anyone late will be left behind. Standard uniform. Equipment will be supplied there. B The big delivery! Jack couldn’t believe that, after over two months of waiting, it was finally happening. He was so excited that he almost forgot about the second text that had been sent just ten minutes ago: Jack! Hav u received the message from Brain? Big deliv goin down, be at club for 3. U need to get back to flat and get ready. Now! Won’t w8 up so c u there. Ella. Jack’s first thought was: yeah, yeah, I know. No need to panic. His second thought was: why all the sudden rush? He glanced at his watch and soon found out. “Bollocks,” Jack muttered and sprinted for the exit. He’d been so engrossed with all the karate and after-training incidents that he’d completely lost track of time and it was now quarter past two. He had forty-five minutes to get back home, change into his gear and then make it all the way to the clubhouse in time to catch the delivery. A tall order not by any stretch of the imagination. And he hadn’t even had lunch yet. The plan had been to eat with the Kings after the karate session had finished, but for some reason Jack didn’t think he was very welcome around here anymore. As he hurried down the corridor towards the stairs, he considered knocking on Charlie and Charlotte’s doors and apologising. But he was already running late and Jack suspected it wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway. They’d probably just kick him out for being intrusive. Thankfully, he passed no one on the way out and was soon in the lift, the machine seemingly moving like a tortoise with arthritis as the numbers slowly crept towards nought. There was a taxi rank just across the road which was fortunate and soon Jack was on the move, travelling a lot faster than he would have done if he’d been made to walk. As Ella had promised, she’d already been and gone by the time that Jack got there. Lancaster already knew what was happening and was there to greet him at the door, promising to quickly rustle up a ham sandwich which he could eat while he was heading over to the clubhouse. Jack thanked him and sprinted into the room, closing the door behind him. First, get changed. His K.O uniform was hanging in the closet; a combination of black padded jacket, plain white shirt and black tracksuit bottoms that provided decent warmth and comfort as well as practicality. Footwear was Jack’s own choice and he selected a relatively new pair of AstroTurf trainers that would provide him with grip and speed in the likely event that he needed to start running. Next were some basic pieces of equipment: his Victorinox penknife which his mum had given him as a present one Christmas and, miraculously, he hadn’t managed to lose; his mobile phone which he switched from the trousers he’d previously been wearing; a mini first aid kit which Jack could strap to his waistband and hide underneath his jacket; and finally… some bars of chocolate to maintain energy. Jack gorged himself on an Aero as he zipped up his jacket, made sure he hadn’t left anything behind and then sprinted back out into the main room. “Here’s your sandwich,” Lancaster called, thrusting a package wrapped in cellophane into his hand. “Now go and make sure that Ella doesn’t screw up all by herself.” Jack smiled and nodded. “Will do, old timer.” He raced for the exit. “Good luck!” Lancaster shouted after him. And with the way the rest of today had gone, he was going to need it. Badly. 5Stopping PowerWhen Jack eventually arrived at the clubhouse it was five past three and the front doors were securely locked. The crack underneath the entrance showed that all the lights had been switched off inside and there were no motorbikes resting against the walls like there usually were. Jack thought he must have missed them and that they had already gone without him as the text had promised, a feeling of dejection slapping him across the face like Charlotte’s hand. So much for good luck. But then he heard the sound of voices and engines coming from the back of the building and hurried down the side alley towards the drop-off zone. This was where everything was happening. As he turned the corner and skidded to a breathless halt, he found Brain dictating events with his usual authority, standing on the edge of the group and barking out orders to the rest of the members. “Ray, get those doors shut!” “Remember to keep the safety catches on while we’re mobile. The last thing I want is for one of our own team to accidentally blow up the fuel tank.” “McQueen, stop fooling around and get in the van.” “And has everybody got at least one weapon to protect themselves with?” “Alright?” Jack said, walking up to Brain from his blind side and standing beside him. “God, it’s more hectic than a school playground here, isn’t it?” Brain jumped and whirled round to see who it was. “Jack! Thank God, you’ve managed to make it. Ella told me you were going to be a bit late, but this really is pushing the boundaries.” “Sorry,” Jack apologised. “I missed the text and was stuck on the other side of town.” “Oh well, can’t be helped,” Brain mumbled. “And at least you’re here now, that’s the main thing.” “You said something about supplying us with equipment here?” “Oh yes, of course. Come with me, but we’re going to have to be quick. We’re already running way behind schedule as it is.” In total there were ten vehicles cramped into the tight, enclosed confinements of the drop-off zone: five vans, three cars and two motorbikes. The vans were exactly the same as the one that Lancaster had followed the week before – large, white, anonymous – while the cars were three Japanese estates that could house a maximum of seven people each inside. Brain led Jack over to one of the vans and pulled open the back doors. Like all the others, it was already loaded and ready for the off, the crates packed so tightly together that there was only the need for a few straps to tie them down. The one nearest to the doors had been opened and Jack peered inside to find the final remaining sub-machine guns lying at the bottom. Brain reached inside, pulled one out and handed it to Jack. “Heckler & Koch UMP40,” Brain stated as Jack gave it a quick examine. “Imported straight over here from Germany where they’re built. Primarily a weapon used for speed and agility, it has a rate of fire of six hundred rounds per minute and weighs just 2.1 kilograms without the magazine. That’s less than your average bag of shopping.” “Wow,” Jack murmured. “I really needed to know that.” “Do you know how to use a gun?” Brain asked. “It’s fine if you don’t, but it means someone is going to have to teach you while we’re on the move.” Jack raised one eyebrow and in less than ten seconds flat, had performed a full safety check on the gun (as you are supposed to whenever you receive a new weapon) and then loaded a round into the chamber. Jack made sure the safety catch was on and then smiled at Brain. “Yeah, I think I know how to handle a gun.” Brain was blown away. “I’m not even going to ask,” he muttered and slammed the door shut. “If you want a pistol or some hand grenades, go and find Travis or Grimes and they’ll sort you out. If not then I suggest you go and take your position ready for when we start moving.” “Where am I supposed to be?” Jack asked looking around. Brain pointed over to one of the cars where Ella and several other members were leaning against the boot chatting. “Your sister will fill you in on everything you need to know. But now that everyone’s here, we’ll be leaving in five minutes so don’t start engaging in the works of Shakespeare or anything.” Jack nodded with a smile and walked over to Ella, taking in his surroundings as he did so. At a rough estimate, he guessed that there must have been about fifty members on site, either hanging around for any final orders or waiting impatiently inside their designated vehicles. That meant most if not all of the regular full time members were in attendance. Then again, that wasn’t surprising considering how much build up there had been to this day and what was to become the biggest delivery in the organisation’s history. No one was going to miss it, not this one. Not for anything in the world. It was to be a landmark of K.O’s achievements, success and longevity while others crumbled down around them. It was the very reason why the organisation existed at all. “Well look who decided to show up,” Ella grinned, nodding in Jack’s direction. The two members either side of her – a young woman called Tori, short for Victoria, and Barmy – also nodded at him. “Thought you might have a cup of tea and a biscuit before heading out here?” Jack shrugged. “Better late than never. And thanks for the warm welcome.” He then turned his attention to the car. It was a Honda, four years old and with two long, narrow crates squashed in the boot behind the third row of seats. Clearly, K.O were being made to use every single piece of space available to store the deliveries. “This our ride for the day then?” “Uh huh,” Barmy nodded. “And lucky you, I’ll be the one driving.” “Can’t wait. Shotgun the front seat.” “Tough,” Ella smirked. “I’ve already beaten you to it.” “Oh what!” “She’s right,” Tori added, “And rules are rules.” “Bollocks.” “Hard luck, Jack,” Ella smiled, patting him on the shoulder. “I guess you’ll just have to get here earlier next time.” “Sod that.” He couldn’t bear to look at Ella’s smug grin any longer so turned to Barmy instead. Out of all the K.O members, he was one of the few that both Jack and Charlie got on well with, Grimes being the complete opposite. “Any sign of Calvin King? I’ve been looking around and can’t seem to see him.” “Not coming,” Barmy replied instantly. “Never does when it comes to making a delivery.” “So basically what you mean is that he’s skimping out of all the dirty work… manual labour and all that.” “Uh… yes.” “Lazy git.” They all laughed. “If he heard you say that,” Barmy warned. “Yeah I know, he’d probably have me strung up by my nuts in the middle of the games room with everyone else taking pot shots at me with paintball guns,” Jack smiled. “And so that’s why nobody’s ever going to mention it to him, right?” “Sure, Jack,” Ella said, trying to keep a straight face and failing. “You can trust us one hundred per cent.” “Can I have everyone’s attention?” Brain called out suddenly, clapping his hands together and standing in the middle of the ring of vehicles so that everybody could her him. “Thank you. Before we set off, I’d just like to say a few words. “Two months of hard work has gone into this delivery, two months since K.O first received the large order from our wealthy customer. In fact, large is probably the understatement of the century. Without a shadow of a doubt, it is the biggest single delivery in our history. As you well know, it has stretched our resources to the very limits which is why it has taken such a long time to compose the whole list together. But now that moment has finally arrived and the first of two decided deliveries is upon on us. I must apologise now for the lack of warning – as I understand it, some people were made to dash across half the city just to get here – but our client was most impatient to get his hands on his order as soon as possible. And as we all know, the customer is always right. So let’s have a nice, smooth operation today to get us going and to show our client that he was right to do business with the finest illegal goods dealers in the world. “Everyone knows their positions. Everyone knows their roles. Everyone knows what they’re supposed to be doing. Each vehicle has at least one member with a radio and we’ll use these to keep in contact while we’re on the move. Before we get going, does anyone have any final questions?” The group all glanced around at each, but no one put their hands up. “Travis and OJ will lead the way on the first motorbike. All the rest of you have to do is keep up. Now let’s roll!” The members hurried to their respective vehicles and clambered inside. Jack slammed the door shut as he slipped in behind the driver’s seat and soon the air was full of the noise of engines starting and tyres squealing. Although he had never been involved in one before, it reminded Jack of a carnival procession or a biker’s ride – the way they were all lined up one after the other in an orderly queue. Travis set off on the motorbike, his passenger clinging to the seat with both hands as it swept gracefully round the corner. Jack wondered where he kept his weapon, because of course he couldn’t simply rest it on his lap as Jack was doing now. One of the cars moved off next followed by two vans, another of the cars and two more of the vans. Then it was their turn. Barmy floored the accelerator and the car lurched forward, slipping in behind the van in front as it left the high-rise walls that was the sanctuary of the clubhouse and emerged out onto a narrow public road. Jack glanced behind him as they waited at the intersection to see the final van close on their tail with the second motorbike bringing up the rear. The convoy was complete. Now it was time to really step on the gas. “You drive like my grandmother,” Jack muttered, as the convoy hit the main road leading out of Hong Kong. “Look, the van in front of us is pulling away. A bloody van!” “Alright, keep your hair on,” Barmy replied. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.” “It’s also better to be early than late.” “We’re not going to be late!” “Yeah, we are.” “Only because you stopped off for a lunch break on the way to the club.” “What! I was hungry!” “Shut up, Jack!” Ella moaned. “We’ve barely left the city and already you’re being annoying.” “Well, I do apologise,” Jack mumbled sarcastically. “Is he always like this on car journeys?” Barmy asked Ella as they slowly closed the gap on the van in front. Ella nodded. “Yep, you bet.” “Hey, I heard that!” Barmy rolled his eyes. “Someone initiate a restraining order on him… please.” “Alright, alright, I’ll be quiet,” Jack sighed. “But I get to drive on the way back.” “Fine,” Barmy agreed. “Then we get to see how you like an irritating little prat moaning in your ears.” “Ha ha, I forgot to laugh.” Jack fell silent for all of thirty seconds before he became restless again. He stared out of the window and found that they were now on a three-lane highway, green mountains visible in the distance indicating the boundary into China. “Where are we going exactly?” he asked to no one in particular. Ella buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “Oh God, here we go again.” “No, it’s a serious question,” Jack said indignantly. “I mean, what makes one place more suitable for a changeover than another? And why does it have to be so far away?” “The honest answer is, we don’t know,” Tori said. “We could be going anywhere right now and none of us would be any the wiser.” “Apart from the senior members, of course,” Barmy added. “Brain, Travis, Grimbo, and Scarlett. Plus King, obviously. They all know where we’re going whenever there’s a delivery run like this. But as far as I’m aware, no one else does.” “So you don’t have a clue?” “Not a sausage,” Barmy replied, shaking his head. “At the end of the day, all I get paid for is driving this car along some roads and following the vehicle in front. Nowhere in my contract does it state map reading is involved.” Jack nodded. It was clear that Barmy was just as in the dark as he was about where they were heading, so he decided not to press the issue further and sat back in his seat. As the miles got eaten up and the ever more remote countryside rolled past the windows, Jack found himself continually checking and fiddling with his weapon, almost absentmindedly so. That was until he fired the empty chamber once too often and Barmy moaned that it was distracting. Jack sighed and propped up the gun between his knees before someone could have a go at him again or before Barmy accidentally swerved off the road. After an hour of driving, the convoy turned off the highway and followed a B-road that descended down into a large, deep valley. Ella had switched the radio on to try and liven the mood and for a time it had worked, but the sudden change of direction had got everyone tense. They must be getting close now, Jack thought. Way up front, Travis slowed down the pace so that they could negotiate the swooping curves and dips safely. What with five vans loaded to the brim with heavy crates, it would be all too easy for one of them to topple over by taking a corner too vigorously. Within minutes they’d diverted off to an even more rural road, this one barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other. The road was rough and potholed, each bump keenly felt inside the car. Jack could only imagine what it was like for the members unfortunate enough to be stuck inside the heavier, less comfortable vans. This time, he was not going to complain about their lack of speed. They were now deep into Chinese territory, about fifty kilometres east of the town of Shenzhen. To one side was the whole of Asia, the biggest continent in the world, while on the other side give or take a few sets of hills was the Pacific, the biggest ocean in the world. Land of the giants here, Jack thought, and as they drove along, he was suddenly struck by an idea about why they were all coming out here to make the delivery rather than simply stay in Hong Kong. It was a well-known fact that Hong Kong was one of the safest cities in the world and a large part of that was down to the low crime rate and the efficient security services. You hardly ever heard about mass murders or bank robberies in the news, which was why the main source of law-breaking came from the likes of K.O and the triads who dealt in organised crime. But even then, smuggling goods in and out of the city wasn’t easy. If anything, the reason why the convoy had made it out of Hong Kong so simply was because of the sheer normality of what they were doing. If any workers from border control happened to be looking, all they would have seen were five regular delivery vans crossing into China. They would be more likely to be transporting toys or microwave meals than illegal goods. But to try and organise a trade worth millions of pounds as K.O were doing now under their very noses would have been pushing the boundaries severely. When the crime was happening in their own city that was when it got serious. Outside in a neighbouring country? Not such a big problem. And so that’s why Jack presumed they’d come here, to a country that had a far worse record on managing crime and had such a high, growing population that it was impossible to keep track of everything that went on inside of it. If they couldn’t even control their own birth rate, what were the chances of them being able to control cross-border smuggling? Jack was just concluding this thought when the van crested a rise and Barmy changed down a gear as they descended into another valley. This one was long and narrow, shaped a bit like a bath tub with the edges comprising of tall, thick woodland and the road running down the centre. Surely there couldn’t be much further to go now? “Why’re we stopping?” Jack asked as Brain suddenly slammed on the brakes. They’d just reached the flat bottom of the valley, but looking around there wasn’t a hint of civilisation in sight. Apart from the road and a low crumbling stone wall that had been positioned on either side of it, it was all just open grass and greenery all the way up to the tree line; no towns and no buildings anywhere near them. What was K.O’s client planning to do? Drop them all off here and plan to collect them later? No, this couldn’t be it. Then why had they stopped? “There’s a vehicle coming the other way,” Tori said, peering through the side window. She laughed. “Looks like a doddery old farmer in a battered pick up. Doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Jack craned his neck over to see. Indeed there was a pickup truck coming the other way, passing the motorbike of Travis and OJ with ease, but becoming stuck when it came to slipping past the first car and the larger, wider van. If the stone wall hadn’t been there it would have been easy enough for one of them to divert onto the verge in order to pass. But it was there, and that made any space to pass exceedingly small. The pickup truck might have originally been red, but over the years had been eaten away at by rust and the weather to leave it an ancient-looking brown. Jack was surprised it could even move, let alone negotiate the difficult terrain that they found themselves in. He supposed this must be a typical local, heading into the nearest main town for food and supplies. By the looks of things, it was going to take him a very long time. “Come on, you old fart,” Barmy muttered under his breath. “And you called me a bloody slowcoach.” Jack smiled. “Yeah, well, at least he’s got an excuse.” Jack looked at the pickup truck again… and frowned. Why wasn’t it moving? Why had it suddenly just stopped on the edge of the road, effectively blocking their path? The man behind the driver’s seat ducked into the footwell. And that was when it happened. With a sound like hailstones raining down onto a corrugated metal roof, bullets started to slam into the side of the car and not just their car, but every single vehicle in the K.O convoy. As he flung himself away from the window, Jack caught a glimpse of OJ hurling himself from the motorbike. Travis was already lying prone on the ground, struggling to pull out his weapon from inside his jacket. “It’s an ambush!” Barmy yelled, shielding his head as the wing mirror splintered into broken shards just a few centimetres from him. “Everyone get down and pull out your weapons.” Jack grabbed the UMP and stabbed the safety catch into fire mode, but it was no good. There simply wasn’t enough space inside the cramped car to aim and position his gun properly. “It’s not working,” Jack yelled. “We need to get outside and fight back.” “Are you crazy?” Ella screamed in hysterics as the passenger window shattered above her. “Why don’t you just shoot us all now?” “Get behind the wall and stay close to it,” Jack yelled. “Hopefully, the bullets won’t be able to reach use there.” “Hopefully?” Ella shrieked, but Jack was already gone. He quickly opened the door and rolled out onto the hard tarmac, slamming it shut with a kick of his leg. Then he scrambled on all fours to the shelter of the stone wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily. The UMP was in his hands. “Take some of this, bastards,” Jack yelled and suddenly popped up with the weapon at his shoulder. The attack was coming from the dense treeline and not just on one side, but on both. Jack fired a burst of rounds randomly into the trees and hoped by some miracle they had managed to hit someone. But even if they didn’t, it would at least give the enemy something to think about. A sudden explosion almost flung Jack onto his back and he spun round to find that the second motorbike had been completely wiped off the face of the earth. All that was left were some scorched remains that could have either been part of the chassis or some charred bones. The rest was scattered all across the valley, like a dead person’s ashes. “Get out here now!” Jack yelled. “Before all the vehicles start to blow.” After seeing what had happened to the motorbike, the others didn’t need any more encouragement. Barmy spilled out beside Jack while, on the other side, Ella hit the road and rolled over so that she was lying flat against the wall. Tori made it out okay, but the member following her barely had time to smell the fresh air before a bullet had sliced through the side of his head. He crumpled like a paper bag, toppling forwards out of the car and almost squashing Tori as she scrambled out of the way. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jack said loudly. The ground shook like an earthquake and a second fireball ballooned up into the afternoon sky. “There goes another one,” Barmy cringed and this time it had been one of the cars. Jack wondered how many people had made it out alive. If they’d been any slower than they had been at sensing the danger, the answer: probably not many. Luke McQueen bailed it out of the nearest van and stumbled towards them, running low with his hands hanging down like a gorilla. “Shit this is bad,” the Australian muttered, repeating what Jack had said just seconds earlier. “The enemy must’ve got a tip off. There’s no way that any of this can be down to chance.” Barmy nodded. “Agreed.” “It’s all very well complaining about what’s happened,” Tori interrupted. “But what exactly are we going to do? We’ve no idea what we’re up against or even who they are. They could outnumber us ten to one.” Jack tugged at his hair as he tried to come up with a plan, but Luke beat him to it. “We return fire,” he said. “That’s the only way we’ll be able to peg them back. If we try salvaging the vehicles, they’ll just run in and mow us down one by one.” “What about all the goods though?” Tori exclaimed. “If we don’t protect them they’ll be destroyed.” “The vans are armour plated,” Barmy answered. “We’ll just have to hope that it’s enough to keep the bullets at bay.” “Enough chit-chat,” Jack shouted, quickly reloading his weapon. “It’s time to fight back.” All together they raised their weapons and fired a hurl of bullets into the trees, each focusing on a particular area to aim at so that they could try and cover the whole width. Jack saw a blur of movement behind a trunk as a startled something dived out of sight, but by the time he turned to look properly it had gone, skittering into the shadows. “Keep it going, this is good!” Jack shouted. Indeed, some of the return fire seemed to be ceasing, as if the enemy were retreating or beginning to have second thoughts about launching an attack. It turned out to be wishful thinking. Their progress was blown out of the water, quite literally, as several spherical objects were hurled out of the forest all at the same time. From afar, they could have been tennis balls. Except tennis balls aren’t packed with half a kilogram of explosives. “Grenades!” someone bellowed out from further down the road. “Get to cover.” The problem was though that there wasn’t any cover. At least, not when the grenades landed right on top of you. The whole team was sandwiched between the two walls which would confine the blast and make it more powerful, but if they tried to make a break for it by hurdling over into the field then the gunners would pick them off easily. Whichever way you looked at it, it was a situation with no happy ending. Jack tried solving the problem by hurling one of the grenades that had landed near him back at the enemy. But it had barely left his fingers before it exploded in mid-air, showering him with shrapnel and sending him crashing onto his arse. His nerves were about as shattered as the stone wall he was leaning against. Never again. Meanwhile, sheltering behind the rear end of one of the vans, Ella was facing problems of her own. A grenade had landed just metres beside her without her knowing until the very last moment. She’d flung herself away as it detonated, but the force had still been strong enough to send her tumbling head over heels. In the process, her gun had been whisked from her grasp and now lay in no man’s land on the other side of the wall. Although she was now defenceless, even she wasn’t mad enough to try and retrieve it. She scrambled across the tarmac on her hands and knees, desperately searching for someone else’s fallen weapon, and crashed into something soft. The something swore and turned on her, thrusting the barrel of a gun in her face. “Oh, it’s you,” Grimes said, retracting the gun. Rather ironically, his face was dirty and grimy from when he’d been forced to face plant into the grass to escape a grenade. “Where’s your weapon?” “Lost it.” Under normal circumstances, Grimes might have berated her for being so careless, but this wasn’t under normal circumstances. What it was was a complete disaster. “Here take this,” he muttered, thrusting a Glock 17 pistol into her hands. “It’s small and weak, but it’s better than nothing.” “Thanks.” “Don’t thank me,” he growled, nodding down at a motionless body by his feet. “Thank the dead guy. He’s the one that doesn’t need it anymore.” Ella hurried off before Grimes could say anything more. She found Jack pressed against the wall, taking it in turns with Barmy and Tori to fire random bursts at the enemy. Luke McQueen was further along, tending to a fellow member who’d just taken a bullet to the chest. Even with Luke applying pressure to the wound, blood was pouring everywhere, spilling out of him like a tap turned to full blast. The man’s lips were trembling, his skin as white as milk. He couldn’t have more than a few seconds to live. Suddenly Ella considered herself lucky just to have lost her weapon. “Ella, thank God you’re alright,” Jack sighed with relief. “When you jumped out of the car I couldn’t see you and then all the grenades started to rain down on us.” He shook his head. “We can’t go on like this. They’re just tearing down our defences chunk by chunk.” As if to emphasise his point, a rocket-propelled projectile soared down from the sky like a space shuttle coming for re-entry and crashed straight into the side of one the vans. Even with its armour plating, the vehicle didn’t stand a chance. It was tossed onto its side as if it was as light as a tin can, the sound of crunching metal echoing around the valley like a clap of thunder. “What did I tell you?” Jack muttered aggrievedly through gritted teeth. “They’re dropping like flies.” Ella couldn’t help but agree, but as she continued to stare at the wreckage of the delivery van it began to give her an idea. “Follow me! Quick!” she said and sprinted towards the van, keeping her head low as bullets whistled over her. She crouched down by the smouldering rear of the vehicle and beckoned Jack over. There was nothing else going for them, he decided. It was probably worth a look. “What?” he spluttered, almost choking from all the debris that had been cast up into the air. “Help me open this,” Ella replied and started yanking at the back doors. The explosion had dented the metal inwards, creasing it like a sheet of paper, and inside Jack could see the crates of goods, many of them having been blown to smithereens. Jack kicked at the door and eventually the lock broke and swung inwards. They each grabbed a crate and dragged it out onto the road, pushing it out of the way before diving in for more. Several other members spotted what they were doing and tried to help, but then Jack noticed the pool of translucent liquid seeping out from underneath the lopsided van. It had a slick, shiny surface that reflected the lowering sun like a mirror, but more distinct was the smell. It burnt the back of Jack’s throat just inhaling it and he instantly knew what it was. “Get back!” he yelled, holding out his arm to prevent Raj from blundering inside. “It’s leaking petrol. It could blow at any minute.” There was no point risking anyone’s life trying to rescue anything else. They were going to need all the men that they could get. They’d managed to salvage six crates from the van, four of which had already been sufficiently opened by the blast. While Tao worked on opening the others, shooting the corners with his pistol to try and blow it open, Ella started investigating their hoard. “Barrett sniper rifles,” she said, handing several out to those nearest to her. “These could come in handy.” They all instinctively threw themselves to the ground as another projectile rocketed over them. It seemed to swoop up into the air for a moment, like a bird taking off from the ground, but then it changed direction again just as suddenly and plummeted down right on top of the central van. The explosion was terrific, every single object in the near vicinity including people hurled through the air like rag dolls. One man smashed against the stone wall, his spine splintering like wood. And even if he survived that which was unlikely, a quick spurt of bullets from the enemy quickly finished him off. “Holy shit,” Raj murmured under his breath. They were being massacred. Like cattle being sent to the slaughter. If a single one of them was going to survive today, someone needed to take charge. And as no one else seemed like they were going to do it, Jack decided to step forward. “Oi, you three!” he shouted, pointing a finger at the three members who’d just been given snipers. “I want some return fire on those enemies. You’ve got scopes, now use them. Pick off anyone you can find, but if you have a choice go for the rocket launchers first. They’re the ones causing us all this grief.” “Hey, who put you in charge?” said a chunky Chinese guy who looked like a sumo wrestler, but without the stained underpants. “I did,” Jack snapped. “And if you have any problems with that, I suggest you might as well walk naked across the field while all the enemy are shooting at you.” The Chinese guy scowled, but at least Jack had a plan. It might not have been to everyone’s taste, but it gave them an objective and it gave them a job to do. The snipers split into two groups to cover both sides of the road and then took up positions with the barrel resting on the top of the wall. At the first sign of movement, they fired. “What else might be useful?” Jack demanded and checked the next few crates. But it was all just more standard weaponry with limited ammunition, only useful if you’d lost your weapon as Ella had. “How about these?” another guy suggested, holding up two canisters of smokescreen in his hands. Jack shook his head. “No, we need weapons. Something that will boost our firepower and allow us to fight back properly.” Then he paused. “Actually, let me see them.” He snatched another handful from the open crate and studied them. All of a sudden, the idea just seemed to waltz into his head. “I’ve got it.” He tossed the canisters out to every member who had stopped to listen and then took three for himself, stuffing two into his pockets and keeping one in his hand. Then he faced the others, holding it up in the air. “This is our key to getting out of here.” They all stared at him as if he’d gone completely mental. “It’s a smoke canister, Jack,” Raj said. “Not a nuclear bomb. We’re supposed to be taking the fight to them. How’s that going to kill the enemy?” “No, not kill the enemy,” Jack corrected. “Disorientate them. Think about it. Have none of you ever seen those Western movies where a few cowboys on horseback herd all the cattle into a narrow gorge with cliffs on either side? Then the rest of the gang up on the cliffs simply pick them off one by one as the cattle are trapped and have nowhere else to go? Well, that’s the exact same position that we’re in. We’re the cattle and the enemy are the cowboys. And so no matter how much we shoot back, we’re never going to win if we remain stuck in here. They could be anywhere in the trees for all we know, while they on the other hand know exactly where we are. A few more rocket launchers over the top and it will be bye bye us. However, if we throw these smokescreens either side of us then it will create an opaque barrier that they won’t be able to see through. They’ll be just like us: lost, disorientated. And that’s when we make our move.” “What? Charge straight at them like a bunch of kamikaze warriors?” “Do I look like an idiot to you?” he replied incredulously. “Of course we’re not going to just run straight at them. That would be suicide.” “Then what?” “We flank them. Half go right, half go left and then we meet in the middle. Let’s give these bastards a taste of their own medicine. They’ve trapped us once, now we’re going to do the same to them.” “It’ll never work,” someone muttered pessimistically. Jack felt like punching him in the side of the head. “Do we have any better ideas?” The group said nothing. “No, I thought not. Now, on the count of three, pull out the pins and throw the canisters as close to the woods as you can. Half of you take this side, half of you the other. Alright, one… two… three!” Jack wrenched the pin out and hurled the canister as far as he could, just as if he was back at school returning the ball to the bowler during a game of cricket. Altogether at least five canisters must have been thrown on either side and it was soon twice that amount as everyone quickly did the same with their second. When they landed they were scattered all about the place, but that didn’t matter. These were jumbo gas canisters, a special import from the United States. A hundred quid a pop was what K.O’s client had had to pay for them. But now it suddenly all seemed worth it. Like great big volcanic eruptions, the smoke billowed out straight from impact, mushrooming up until they were almost blotting out the sun. The enemy certainly wouldn’t be able to see anything. They would be lucky if they could spot the end of their nose. As faint air currents buffeted the smoke about and merged it all together, it soon became just two big slabs of solid grey, like an impenetrable fog on a cold winter’s morning. It was thicker than soup, and for the first time since the ambush, Jack suddenly began to feel as if they might have a hope. He grabbed a Glock pistol from one of the crates and stuffed it in his waistband, just in case he ever needed it. Then after splitting with half the others and hurrying down the road until the terrain started to climb again, he stopped and turned to face the solid wall of smoke. Ella stood beside him, ready for action. She nodded. Jack raised his UMP in the air and uttered just one word: “Charge!”6Up In SmokeEven Red Rum would have been impressed by the way they straddled the stone walls, regaining their footing before sprinting straight as an arrow into the haze. And Red Rum never had to do it while carrying three kilograms of lethal weaponry in its arms either. Or while having to remain as silent as a public library. Even those who hadn’t listened to Jack’s idea vaulted the wall and legged it stealthily towards the enemy, abandoning the ruined vehicles and any sense of caution behind them. It didn’t take a genius to realise that they would only get one opportunity to even out the battle. And this was it. Jack had been taught by MI6 to use a zigzag motion when running towards the enemy as this was a way of dodging any bullets, but in this case it wasn’t necessary. The enemy were as blind as bats with a bag pulled down over their heads and in any case, all the shooting was being made down the centre at the stationary vehicles. Out here on the flanks they were relatively safe, as long as they kept silent and the smoke held up until they reached cover. Swerving left to right would only slow him down and increase the chances of slipping on the long grass. It should have been scary running into the smoke as they were effectively venturing into the unknown. He should have been absolutely terrified. A bullet could have appeared in front of him at any moment and when it did it would be the end. Dead. No second chances. Yet Jack felt none of this - only a grim determination to pound every single living enemy into the hard earth. Life was difficult enough as an undercover spy without these bastards intervening. And now they were going to pay for it. Jack heard a colossal bang and another of the convoy vehicles being blown to smithereens - he couldn’t be sure which – but he carried on going, didn’t even hesitate to think how mad the situation was. The sound of crackling bodywork would momentarily drown their running. And then suddenly he felt twigs underneath his feet, crunching like bone. He slowed. The noise died. Dark shadows loomed ahead of him; gnarled, spindly fingers clawing at his face and arms and clothes. Trees. They’d made it into the forest. And that was when all hell started to break loose. The smoke had spread across the valley as easily as sound, the thick tree canopies trapping the smoke and preventing it from escaping up into the air. It was like being inside a smoker’s bar but about a hundred times worse and without the horrid smell. As Jack continued to creep through, wheeling slowly round so that he was now heading directly towards the enemy, waves formed in the smoke and spread outwards like ripples on a pond. But straightaway more smoke took its place and everything was just as invisible as before. The group started to spread out, following different routes through the trees, and suddenly Jack found himself alone. Apart from the odd bang somewhere in the distance as the enemy continued to shoot randomly at the road, the air was eerily quiet. So focused was he on finding an enemy so that he could start attacking, Jack suddenly tripped straight over a large root and was sent sprawling through the undergrowth. Mud and damp grass plastered his sleeves while he just had to hope that no dirt had managed to get inside the UMP. Otherwise it wouldn’t work. Just then he heard urgent voices, quickly matched with the distinctive crunching sound of approaching footsteps. “I could swear I just heard something,” a man said, hurrying towards the spot where Jack lay. “It came from round about here, I’m sure of it.” “You’d better be right,” a second guy muttered. “Otherwise you’re the biggest twerp in history.” Jack understood every word of what was being said, which meant that they definitely weren’t speaking in Mandarin, Indian or any other local language. But the strange thing was they weren’t speaking in English either, as some natives from Hong Kong and Singapore did. They were speaking in fluent German. Before Jack could begin to wonder what the hell a group of Germans were doing all the way over in China, he spotted movement through the smoke. The shape of a man suddenly appeared in front of him and Jack pressed himself flat against the undergrowth, hoping that it would disguise his figure. At the same time he pulled out the Glock pistol and held it tightly by his side. The irony of using their own native weapon against them was too alluring to resist. “Can you see anything?” the second guy mumbled, clearly not convinced. “I’m not a bloody superhero, Bastian,” the first guy tutted. “I don’t have x-ray vision that can see straight through thick smoke.” “You don’t say, genius.” The man, Bastian, kicked at a stone and it rolled out of the gloom, bouncing just in front of Jack’s nose before settling down next to the stump of a tree. “I’ll tell you one thing for nothing though: Nico was dead right about all these K.O losers. They might have an alright business model, but when it comes to fighting they’re just a big bunch of pansies. Not like us. They couldn’t kill an ant. I mean, smoke? What the hell’s that supposed to do? Once it clears we’ll all just move in and finish them off. Job done.” “Shut it,” the first man hissed and stopped moving. Bastian juddered to a halt a few paces behind him. Jack could now see both of them clearly; they were staring into the distance rather than examining the ground around their feet. That was probably the only thing keeping him alive right now. They couldn’t have been more than a few metres away. Any movement, even the twitch of a leg, and they would spot him. “What is it this time?” Bastian snapped sourly. “Another noise,” his colleague whispered, “But this time from further away. Whatever it is, it’s moving.” “Probably just a bird or something,” Bastian muttered. “This stupid wood is full of them.” But the other guy had more than one brain cell and was clearly in charge so they started forward once more, slower this time and with more caution. Jack’s eyes darted to the left as a black combat boot landed less than a metre from his head, sinking into the soft mud. “There it was again,” the man muttered. “There’s definitely something-” Suddenly the man fell to the ground with a thud and disappeared into the smoke. “Jürgen?” Bastian called, a definite edginess to his voice. “What’s happened? Where are you?” He stumbled blindly forwards. And then a big, black shape loomed up from beside him, like a terrifying zombie rising from the grave. But this was no zombie. A bunched fist lashed out and smacked straight into Bastian’s nose, snapping his head back and sending him crashing loudly into a tree. At the same time, on the opposite side of the wood, gunfire started. A group of startled larks squawked and took flight, bumping into each other in their haste. The rattle and chatter of machine gun fire brought back fateful memories as Jack wiped his bloody fist on his trouser leg and hurried over to the unconscious German. It had only been last April that he’d been involved in a war and not a sudden, out of the blue event like this. He was talking about a proper full-scale bloodbath, with all or nothing the prizes for the competing sides. He’d lost a lot of good friends those few days, not least Stanislav Svoboda – the person whose death he was supposed to be avenging by helping to bring K.O down. Jack hoped he wasn’t about to lose any more. The man had been knocked out cold and offered no resistance as Jack grabbed his rifle, unclipped several grenades from the belt around his waist and stuffed several magazines of ammo into his pocket. Then he heard someone running towards him and spun round, about to fire. “Don’t shoot!” the person yelled, raising their hands in the air. “It’s only me.” “Ella…” Jack sighed and lowered his weapon. “You almost scared the shit out of me.” “Sorry, I thought you might be in trouble.” “Trouble?” Jack glanced down at the motionless body by his feet. “Why should I be in any trouble?” “I saw you fall over and then the two men started hurrying towards you,” Ella answered. “I would have taken them out right there and then, but at that moment the smoke blocked my view and I lost you all.” “I didn’t fall over,” Jack scoffed. “I was merely dropping to prone position.” “Course you were,” Ella smirked. “That’s why you made yourself look like a total arse.” “Must’ve been all the smoke,” Jack decided, “Distorting your vision. Anyway, come on. There’s some shit going down and I want to be a part of it.” “Lovely image,” Ella murmured and they both sprinted towards the epicentre of the fighting, dodging behind trees for shelter. Jack spotted a man coming the other way in the same olive green uniform as the two Germans and fired instantly. The enemy toppled forwards and crashed straight into the mud, lying there like a log. Jack and Ella hurdled him before Jack caught a second flash of green off to his left and turned instinctively to shoot again. This time it was only the branch of a tree, the abundance of leaves weighing it down and causing it to hang low over the ground. But he had to be sure. There was no point taking chances when it was your own life on the line. Soon Jack lost sight of Ella again. Maybe she’d spotted an enemy and had gone off in pursuit or had tripped over like Jack had done and was somewhere behind, but one moment she’d been there, the next she was not. Swallowed up into the smoke like by some great mythical monster. But Jack wasn’t worried; she could handle herself just fine. At the moment, it was his K.O colleagues that he was most concerned about. It was still as disorientating as a maze inside the forest and someone bundled straight into the side of Jack, knocking him over. Whether it was on purpose or by accident, only the assailant could know. Jack didn’t even know it if had been one of the enemies because by the time he was back on his feet, whoever it was had disappeared. Jack crossed a small clearing, enjoying the momentary respite and the visibility to see the setting sun, before plunging back into the darkness. He spotted a man perched up in a tree, using a sniper with a thermal scope to pick off anyone that appeared in his sights. As luck would have it, he was looking the other way. Jack simply crept up behind him and shot him once in the back. The man pitched forward, tumbling out of the tree like a flightless baby chick that’d managed to escape from the nest, and crashed into the earth. As he tried to drag himself towards his fallen weapon, Jack ran over and kicked him in the side of the head. The man lay still. Jack quickly scavenged whatever useful equipment he had on him and moved on. The next enemy came out of nowhere. Jack was simply running along minding his own business when something flew at him from the side, like a rugby player going in for a tackle. In the space of a second, Jack’s heart missed several beats. He was sent tumbling to the earth with the enemy on top of him, desperately wrestling to keep him off. The enemy had a pistol and tried to use it by smashing it on top of Jack’s head. He managed to dodge the first attempt, but could do nothing about the second. Jack’s head was a brass bell, violently ringing and vibrating inside. His vision blurred and he thought he might pass out, but the cold earth pressed against his cheek kept him conscious. And the fact that there was a thirteen stone lump trying to batter his brains in. With a surge of strength, Jack threw the enemy off and staggered to his feet. The man tried to floor him again with a roundhouse kick but it was clumsily executed and Jack ducked straight underneath it, popping up again to plant a knee straight into the stomach. The man belched and doubled over, his face turning sickly. Whatever he’d been eating recently – sausages and beer, probably – it looked like it was all about to end up on the forest floor. Jack decided not to hang around to see it. He shoved the man to the floor and carried on running. If another of the K.O members came across him, they could do what they liked, frankly. A bright light flashed in the distance as someone threw a stun grenade, the other side responding with a hail of machine gun fire. The sound of bodies thumping to the ground could be heard all around him, as if it was the hunting season and all these people were just farmed pheasants being shot down one by one. How many more were there left on either side? With K.O it couldn’t be more than forty, what with all the fatalities and casualties from the earlier ambush. With the enemy? Who knew? There could be hundreds of them on this side of the valley alone. Certainly it felt like that. “Shit!” Suddenly Jack heard a familiar yell and, without thinking, ran straight towards it. Brain had got himself cornered, three enemies in olive camouflage uniform forcing him back against a large tree trunk. Worse still, somehow he’d managed to drop his weapon. Jack saw it lying underneath one of the enemies, coated in mud. He supposed that was why Brain had been swearing. The second-in-command had both his arms up in surrender, but the three men looked unconvinced by it. They’d much rather just shoot him now and save their breath. Jack took all this in in a split second as he ran into the scene from the side. Four heads turned as he raised his UMP and took out the two nearest enemies, one with a bullet to the knee, the other to the shoulder. Both fell to the ground, leaving the third and final man alone and outnumbered. The original or the new arrival? Which one should he go for? The man hesitated for just a fraction of a second before identifying Jack as the immediate threat and wheeling his gun around… But by then it was too late. The third enemy dropped down next to his companions, writhing in agony from the bullet that had splintered his shin. Jack hurried forward and kicked each of their weapons away, out of arm’s reach. Threat over, he turned to Brain. “You hurt?” “No.” “Good.” Jack picked up one of the enemies’ weapons and gave it to him. “Here, have this. I think your other one’s beyond repair.” Jack started to move off again. “Wait! What about these three?” Jack stopped and turned to look. “What about them?” “Well, aren’t you going to finish them off?” Jack stared down at the three men, reduced to squirming around in the mud like helpless babies. “They’re not my business,” he muttered. “You can do what you like.” Jack couldn’t be sure what with all the commotion and shouting reverberating around him, but he thought he might’ve heard three separated shots from behind as he quickly ventured further into the forest. Brain? Or was it just his imagination? But one thing that definitely wasn’t his imagination was the number of bodies he was coming across, strewn around the forest like discarded litter. And most of them appeared to belong to the enemy. The olive green uniforms were as distinct as a national flag against the brown of the forest floor and the numbers were definitely increasing. He couldn’t be sure how many were dead or just simply unconscious, but in the grand scheme of the battle it didn’t matter which. As long as they were unable to fight, that was another enemy down. Jack was following the action which now seemed to have spread over to one particular side of the forest, in a concentrated area close to the edge of the valley. It wasn’t the only thing that was spreading either. The smoke was now rapidly beginning to dissipate, particularly as they were so far away from where the grenades had first been detonated. He heard the K.O members before he saw them, Luke McQueen bellowing some sort of improvised war cry as they continued to chase the enemy. Jack sprinted for fifty yards in order to catch up and found himself sandwiched between Tori and Raj. But despite his sudden appearance, neither of them paid him any attention. For both, like the rest of the group, were too busy concentrating on driving the enemy backwards, forcing them to turn and run for their lives. At first Jack couldn’t see the point – surely they would just escape? - but then he realised what they were approaching: the wall of the valley. It wasn’t quite ninety degrees, but it was close enough; a sheer climb of loose rock and dirt that must have stretched up for at least twenty metres before slowly levelling out again. And this was where the enemy were being forced to run towards, their attacks having been reduced to random bursts that were as likely to hit a bird in the sky as much as anything else. “Stand your ground!” one desperate German commander cried, kneeling in the dirt and aiming his gun at the approaching enemy. “Keep up the resistance!” But despite managing to pick off one member from the advancing line, someone else soon took care of him and his blood-stained body was trampled underfoot as the group surged forward. After seeing what had happened to his colleague, another German stood up and bolted it, firing his weapon wildly behind him. Further down the line, Luke McQueen put his rifle to his shoulder and fired a single sharp burst. The German keeled over in midstride. “Keep going! We’re almost there!” Luke shouted. “Those bastards have got nowhere else to go.” It was true. Despite having a fifty metre head start the enemy had now reached the wall of the valley and were only just beginning to realise how deep the shit they were in was; a sheer wall on one side and enemies closing in from the three others. It wasn’t a good position to be in. But that didn’t stop the most desperate of the enemies from trying. They gave themselves a ten metre run up and then launched themselves at the slope, trying to scramble up towards the peak like a monkey climbs a tree. But while a monkey could easily find grip from which to push off from, there was no such luck for the men. The furthest any of them managed to reach was four metres before the earth gave way beneath their feet and they slid back down to square one, landing in a disgruntled heap one on top of the other. The sensible gave up at once and turned round to set up a last line of defence with the others. The mad kept on flinging themselves desperately at the slope, becoming increasingly frustrated, exhausted and dirty. The K.O team focused on the fighters first, taking up cover behind the trees and patiently picking off each one. With nowhere for the enemy to go, it was all too easy. Altogether there may have been more of them, but they were less skilled and a lot less disciplined than Calvin King’s men and it was showing. Now that things had got tough, none of them had a clue about what to do. Soon only the climbers remained and it was almost comical, watching them hurl themselves at the slope as if their lives depended on it – which, Jack supposed, they did. One of the guys made it almost halfway by stabbing a pair of branches into the earth and using it as leverage to push up from. At ten metres he looked up, saw how much closer he was getting, and in his excitement one of his feet slipped. In a sequence of events, his other leg lost its footing and so he was now dangling in mid-air, basically a sitting duck for anyone who could stop laughing long enough to shoot him. Several people decided to put him out of his misery, but before they could reach the trigger the two branches snapped in the middle and the man found himself falling. He knocked over two of his colleagues on the way down and they all ended up as a tangle of limbs on the ground. “Enough fooling around,” Luke said eventually, stepping forwards from the line. “Let’s finish them off for good.” *It was a double victory. Grimes, Travis and all the other members that had taken off towards the other half of the forest were already waiting on the roadside by the time that Luke McQueen’s victorious party returned. Brain was there as well, a body in olive green uniform lying by his feet. Despite the celebratory mood of the arriving group, he didn’t look happy. “…And did you see the way that guy just stood there cowering against the tree,” Raj laughed to Jack. “I tell ya, he was well shitting his pants, bruv.” Jack laughed, as did Ella who was walking the other side of him. “You said it, man.” But the chatter was sharply cut short as soon as the group were close enough to see the true devastation that had been inflected on the convoy. Two of the cars and the rear bike were destroyed beyond repair, but more significantly so were two of the vans while another had a smashed windscreen and a severely dented roof. And that was only the damage visible to the naked eye. If a grenade had managed to get underneath the van, there could easily be suspension or wishbone damage. But perhaps worse still were the sheer number of bodies that littered that tarmac and here in the centre of the valley, for once the enemy couldn’t be accounted for. Jack noticed Zhang - or was it Zheng? – clutching their other identical twin in their arms, tears streaming down their face. But he supposed it didn’t matter now. There would be no more confusion. For one of them, whatever the name, was gone forever. Looking around, Jack noticed more and more people lying on the ground that he recognised, people that would never have the chance to greet him or shake his hand ever again. Propped up against the stone wall he saw Naomi and her husband, Lee, resting against each other, their eyes closed. They could have been snoozing after taking a long walk on a fine summer’s day… if it wasn’t for the two bullet wounds that punctured their chests, ruining the picture. In death they almost looked happy, peaceful and in a way, Jack couldn’t help feel jealous about how they’d now moved onto a better place, leaving him and the others to stand around grieving in a battlefield. Hao was there as well… at least, what was left of him. The grenade had torn off pretty much the whole of his lower body. Jack couldn’t bear to look any longer. He closed his eyes and turned away. “How did this happen?” Brain demanded. His face was as white and stretched as a bed sheet, except for his cheeks which had turned an angry red. His eyes were livid, going close to bloodshot. His fists were bunched, as if he wanted to punch anyone who dared even look at him. He may have been a good leader, Jack thought, but he wasn’t very good at suppressing his emotions. “I said… HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?” His voice boomed and echoed around the valley, louder than any grenade explosion. Spittle flew from his mouth, faster than any bullet. “Well…? No one…?” Brain stared at his colleagues as if trying to force one of them into speaking. But no one did. As Raj would have put it, they were too busy shitting their pants. “No? Quite sure? Well, I must say, I find that quite strange. Because to me it’s perfectly clear how this happened.” His eyes honed in on Luke. “McQueen, care to answer the question for me?” “Uh, the Snatchers have recently upped their game a bit?” he said, grinning weakly. It was the wrong thing to say. “NO!” Brain bellowed and kicked out at the dead body in front of him, flipping it over. “We have a leak in our midst, ladies and gentleman. And not a stupid bloody vegetable, McQueen, before you start pulling another of your wisecrack jokes! I’m talking about a traitor. A rat. A double agent. Someone who has sold information to the enemy in exchange for money. And that person is standing here right now…” Brain glared at each of them in turn, his eyes finally ending up on Jack and Ella. Was he just being paranoid or did Brain stare just a fraction longer at them than anyone else? “Now, Brian, just calm down for a moment,” Travis said, resting a reassuring hand on Brain’s shoulder. “For God’s sake, think about what you’re saying!” “I have been thinking about it,” Brain growled, throwing Travis’ hand off him. “I’ve been thinking about it for the last fifteen bloody minutes while grenades and dead bodies rained down all around me. Do I need much more of an incentive?” “Well then you should be able to see that this isn’t the only conclusion,” Travis persisted. “You’re putting all your eggs into one basket without weighing up the other options, jumping to conclusions. I mean, why would one of us betray K.O?” “I don’t know. Why don’t they tell me?” “We’re a close-knit group here. That’s what makes us who we are. Teamwork. Trust. That’s what has got us through this battle today, even though we were heavily outnumbered and had the element of surprise against us. We all trust each other. We all respect each other. So why would someone try and turn us all in?” “Money?” “We’ve all got plenty of money. Heck, isn’t that why we all joined K.O in the first place? Because you can’t get better salaries anywhere this side of New York? Why would anyone risk their whole career just to make an extra bit of cash?” This piece of evidence seemed to sway Brain a bit, but he wasn’t to be convinced. “How else do you explain it then? Abnormally organised Snatchers as Luke McStupid suggests?” “That I cannot answer,” Travis admitted, “But we’ll find out the true reason soon enough, that’s for certain. And only then can we start pointing the finger and dishing out punishments.” Brain might have been the second-in-command, but Travis was still a very senior member in K.O and was one of the most respected people in the organisation. Grudgingly, he nodded. “Fine,” he muttered, “But if this traitor ends up stabbing me in the back again, I’m holding you responsible.” “Now there’s an idea,” Jack heard Luke murmur under his breath, only when Brain had turned and was stomping towards the remains of the convoy. With Brain in a strop, quickly Travis took over leadership. “It’s getting late,” he announced, staring up into the sky. “And our client will still be expecting us. There’s not much further to go. We can make it before sundown.” “What’s the point?” Rex blurted, blood seeping from a wound in his thigh. “We’ve lost about half the convoy and most of the goods have either been broken or totally destroyed. What’s the client gonna think when we turn up in this shambles? It’s do a job properly or don’t do it all.” “Oh really?” Travis said, arms folded. “And how’s our client going to react when we don’t even bother to turn up, huh? At least if we make it to the rendezvous point, it shows that we have guts, determination. That’s better than nothing, isn’t it? Limping across the finishing line is better than just giving up halfway through.” “I’m tired, I’m bleeding and I’m knackered to the bone,” Rex muttered. “Let’s just go home.” “No!” Brain yelled, suddenly appearing beside Travis again. “The guy’s right. We can’t give up. Right after finishing us off altogether, that is exactly what the enemy would want us to do. Lose morale. Fall apart. Make us weak. Because that’s when we are at our most vulnerable.” “What do you mean?” someone else shouted from the listening group. “To me, it’s quite clear that the aim of this ambush wasn’t to steal all our goods,” Brain said. “When they first attacked that was definitely a possibility, but if they were trying to take them, perhaps to sell on or keep for themselves, why go to so much effort to destroy them? We’re lucky to have one van still intact, let alone two. There’s so little amount of goods left, the attack wouldn’t have been worth it. “Which leaves us with only one conclusion. And this time, Travis, there can be no argument. These people are trying to destroy our organisation and today they very nearly succeeded. We are wounded, but we are not dead and so we live to see another day. K.O has not gone up in smoke just yet. But to prove this to our new enemy, to show them that this attack was a mere stumble, not a fall, we must finish off the job in hand. “The goods are valuable, but nowhere near as much as the many lives that we have lost today. It takes time, but stock is replaceable. Skilled and committed members… now that’s completely different. If we give up, Rex, their sacrifice will have been nothing. Do you want your parting gift to Marlon and the others to be to turn around and trudge back home? No, I thought not. So let’s say our final goodbyes, get back into the surviving vehicles and start moving. As for the client, I’ll deal with him. I assure you, he’s one person that won’t be giving us any trouble today.” Brain stared at the crowd, waiting for a response. “I said get moving!” “Yes, sir.” “Sorry, Brain.” As the group hurried onto the road and began trying to salvage as much as they could from the wreckage, Brain wandered over to the lone body of the enemy and crouched down beside it. Travis came to join him. “I’m sorry, Ryan,” Brain murmured, patting down and examining the dead body. “I shouldn’t have got mad back there. I should have listened to you earlier.” Travis shrugged. “I don’t blame you. Everyone gets angry now and again. It was an emotional moment for the whole group.” Brain found an object in the breast pocket and pulled it out, but it was only a spare pistol magazine. He chucked it away. “Did you mean what you said about there not being a traitor?” he queried. “Or was that just to protect the others?” “I meant it, Brian,” Travis nodded. “You can’t make an accusation without solid evidence and at the moment we have none. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty.” “But you’ll keep an eye on them, right? Just in case there is something fishy going on?” “Of course, mate. No secret will be safe.” With that over with, the two adults turned their attention to the body. “Any idea who they are?” Travis asked. “Not a clue,” Brain muttered. “But I wish I did, because then I’d go straight round there and beat every single one of the bastards up.” Travis wiped a thick smear of blood from the body’s face and studied it. “White skin, brown hair… The guy could probably come from a quarter of all the countries in the entire world.” “I know,” Brain muttered bitterly. “It’s bloody annoying.” “Aussie, perhaps? We know there’s a fair few of them around in this sort of area.” “Could be.” “Or Russian? They’ve got a long history of crime and corruption.” “I don’t know, I don’t know.” Brain pulled at his hair in exasperation. “If he had a passport on him or something then it would be easy, but I’ve checked a couple of the others and they don’t have one either. They must have left them somewhere before setting up the ambush, like at a hotel or a secret base or something.” “Tough break.” Suddenly they became aware of someone standing behind them. They both looked round and saw Jack waiting there patiently, his UMP hanging by his side. “They’re German,” he said. “I thought you might like to know.” “What?” Travis said. “How do you know that?” “I heard two of them speaking while I was in the forest,” Jack replied. “I’m fluent so it was pretty easy to recognise.” “And you’re absolutely sure about this?” Brain asked. “You couldn’t have misheard them?” Jack shook his head. “They were German. A hundred and fifty per cent.” Brain stood up and stared across the valley, his eyes glazing over. Jack could tell he was thinking hard about something. Travis scowled slightly and stared at the ground; obviously he didn’t like the Germans very much, Jack thought. “The Black Eagles,” Brain muttered. “It can’t be.” “What?” Jack exclaimed. “Who are the Black Eagles?” “A fellow illegal weapons dealer, based somewhere in Germany,” Brain replied, almost absentmindedly. “When K.O was still located in Britain, the Black Eagles were our biggest rivals for custom. Together we fought for control of the Western Europe market and for many a year it was nip and tuck. Fifty per cent each. It was only when our organisation expanded and we immigrated here to Hong Kong that we started to pull ahead and dominate the market. To be honest with you, for the past few years I’d completely forgotten that the Black Eagles must still exist, continuously plying their trade in our shadow.” “And now it seems they’re attempting to step out of it,” Travis finished. Like Brain and King, he’d been with K.O right from the beginning. “Yes, so it seems.” Brain shook his head. “This is bad, worse than I first feared. If Nico Müller is sensing blood, there’s no knowing what extremes he might go to in order to destroy us.” “Nico!” Jack gasped. “That was the name that one of the enemy soldiers mentioned.” “I thought they might,” Brain nodded grimly. “Nico Müller – joint leader of the Black Eagles along with his compatriot, a guy that goes by the name of Franz. They’re both nasty pieces of work, I can tell you, but Franz isn’t the brightest spark in the light bulb. Nico, on the other hand, is. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of him. Not if you don’t want to be inflicted with every single form of torture known to man that is.” Jack tried not to gulp. “So what did they say exactly?” Travis asked. “The guys that were talking about Nico?” “Uh, I’m not quite sure.” Jack scratched his head, racking his brains. But the memory shelf was empty. “I- I can’t remember. Sorry.” “Not to worry,” Travis said. “Clearly wasn’t very significant then.” “Calvin will want to hear about this immediately,” Brain muttered. “Both the ambush and the involvement of the Black Eagles.” But before he could reach for his phone, Grimes walked over and spoke to him. “Everyone’s ready to leave. Shall we get going so that we reach the meeting point before sunset?” All four of them examined the sky. The sun was beginning to sink behind the rim of the valley, throwing a blood red glow across the sky. “I think so,” Brain nodded. “After what’s happened today, I don’t want to be caught out here when it turns dark.” He looked down one last time at the German’s body, spat at the ground and then started towards the remaining vehicles.7Better Late Than NeverAs Travis had promised, the rendezvous point was just a few miles away on the other side of the valley, over a couple more small hills and located on a flat plateau squashed in the centre of the Chinese mountain range. “Here we are,” Brain said from the passenger seat, Ella having had to relinquish her place to make way for the second-in-command. Barmy was still driving despite having a broken nose from when a German had punched him while Jack, Ella and Tori were sitting behind him. The two who’d originally been in the back hadn’t made it so had been replaced by a man and a woman who had been in one of the destroyed vans. The rendezvous point was an airfield, but not one that was still in official use or had been in a very long time for that matter. Abandoned in the 1950s after the end of the Chinese Civil War, the local authorities had completely forgotten about it. Indeed, most people didn’t even realise it existed. Most of the buildings had been knocked down either by force or nature leaving just one shallow concrete hut beside the longer of the two runways. In places the asphalt had cracked, allowing weeds and wildlife to sprout up from the ground. The lawns needed a trim even more badly than Barmy’s facial hair while if a plane was going to land or take off right now, it would have to do it in the closing darkness for there were no runway lights or floodlights or anything. In fact, it was a miracle that a plane could land at all! Yet there it was, parked in front of the concrete hut; two men standing either side of the flip-down stairs. As the convoy of five vehicles sped across the flat ground into the airfield, Jack looked out of the window at the plane and whistled. “Someone’s doing alright for themselves,” he mumbled. It was a Gulfstream 550, a heavy executive jet, capable of a top speed in excess of 900kph and a fuel range of over 10,000 kilometres. Yet for a private jet it could carry eighteen passengers, not the standard twelve. And if you took a peek inside, you would be guaranteed to find all sorts of luxury furnishing from reclining armchairs and leather sofas to flat screen TVs and enclosed toilets. It also came with a price tag… for forty million dollars. Jack had thought it was the land of the giants. He hadn’t been wrong. “Get to the front of the convoy,” Brain said tensely. “I need to be the one to address the client.” “Right you are.” Barmy indicated and pulled out from behind the van, putting on an extra burst of speed so that they overtook Travis and OJ on the bike out front. “This’ll do,” Brain murmured and unbuckled his seat belt. The car stopped and so did the other vehicles behind it. “Jack, Ella, I want you two to come out with me. Have your weapons armed and ready, just in case something happens like it did last time.” “No problem,” Jack said and they all stepped out of the car into the cool evening air. The clients were Arab, dressed in thick white robes that draped around their body like bandages and an equally white head cloth which was held in place by a black ring. To Jack they looked a bit like halos, but he didn’t dare mention it. They may have been shorter than him but they radiated wealth and power. If the luxury jet was anything to go by, they probably had more money in their back pocket than Jack would ever earn in his life. “Sheikh Al-Jaber,” Brain smiled, opening out his arms like he was greeting an old friend. “It’s so good to finally meet you face to face.” “Where is Mr King?” the Sheikh replied, looking slightly surprised to see Brain and not moving from where he stood. “I was expecting him to be here.” Brain turned out his hands. “Busy, I’m afraid. He wanted to make it, but was called into some urgent business right at the last moment. He sends his apologies.” “And you are?” It was the other Arab that had spoken. Standing close beside the Sheikh, he was a personal bodyguard; a fact clearly demonstrated by the assortment of weapons and equipment hanging from his waist. Robes and guns – it seemed an odd combination. The bodyguard’s name was Ismail and he was relatively new to the job. In fact, he’d only been hired two months ago, but in that time he’d proven himself to be both skilled and brave. He’d replaced a man called Abdullah who, in all honesty, had been less than half as effective as him. Yet he’d been in the job for almost five years. He’d been careless, sloppy, but the Sheikh had never seemed to notice. In fact it had taken someone else, someone who Ismail had been expecting to meet today, to finally point the truth out to the Sheikh. But none of that mattered now. Abdullah was out, he was in. And he was taking his job very, very seriously. “My name is Brian, but most people call me Brain,” Brain replied calmly. “I’m the organiser of deliveries and operations, hence the nickname, and Mr King’s second-in-command.” Ismail listened attentively then nodded slowly. “So what does Mr King do then?” he asked. “He controls the financial and business side of the organisation, occasionally dipping his toes into the action when he deems it necessary.” “Such as?” “Such as personally meeting important clients in order to arrange a deal with us.” Ismail nodded. “Very well.” He quickly examined Jack and Ella, warily eyeing the weapons in their hands, and then whispered into his master’s ear. It was all clear. “I thought we arranged to meet at five?” the Sheikh said, adjusting his robes and pulling them closer around him. “It’s now closer to six.” “Better late than never,” Brain shrugged. “We ran into a bit of trouble on the way.” Ismail’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of trouble?” Well, it wasn’t a tyre puncture if that’s what you’re thinking, Jack thought, watching how Brain reacted to the question with interest. “There was an ambush waiting for us on the other side of those set of hills,” Brain said honestly, pointing into the fading darkness. “Armed men that outnumbered us three to one and attacked just when we were least expecting it. Caught us off guard, gave us a battering. But we managed to pull through. At least, half of us did.” “How unfortunate,” Ismail said. “Does this kind of attack occur often?” “Very rarely. There are a group of local rebels called Snatchers who give us a bit of trouble now and again, but this wasn’t the work of rebels. It was far too organised, far too powerful. Snatchers are lowlifes who earn a living through a few muggings a couple of times a week, on both us and fellow triad groups. The enemies today… they were different. The enemies today… they were foreign. Never before have we come across a threat as powerful as that.” “And so this ambush? Is that why you have so few delivery vans here right now?” Brain’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What makes you think that?” But Ismail didn’t even flinch. “Master Sheikh put forward an order in excess of ten million US dollars. Whichever way you look at it, that means a lot of goods we’re asking for. Your boss, Mr King, has already told us that he plans to deliver the goods in two separate journeys, the first being today. So don’t take this the wrong way, but unless you’re planning to make the second journey in a freight train or a fleet of jumbo jets then there is some stock missing.” Jack couldn’t help but be impressed; that was some clear, sensible thinking from the Sheikh’s bodyguard, particularly when he was being confronted by one of the most powerful people in the criminal underworld. Brain knew he couldn’t lie; as soon as the time came to hand over the goods, they’d instantly realise that the vast majority of it wasn’t there anyway. “You are right, we have lost some vans,” he admitted, “And I must apologise in advance for that inconvenience. We will, of course, replace all the stock that has been lost.” “Oh well, that’s alright then,” the Sheikh said. “However, we do ask that you pay fifty per cent to cover this extra cost. We see it as a sort of compromise on both parties’ behalf.” “What?” the Sheikh exclaimed. “This is outrageous!” “Mr King made this all very clear when you last spoke to each other, Mr Al-Jaber,” Brain continued calmly. “There is always a risk whenever our organisation makes a delivery, always a chance that someone will try and steal, or in this case destroy, the transported goods. If we have to replace these goods with our own money whenever this happens, we’ll end up making huge losses. We appreciate that none of it is your fault in the slightest, but consider it a bit like travel or home insurance – you have to pay extra to cover the risks.” “But I thought the insurance was included in the price of the goods?” Brain turned out his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them. It’s the same for everyone, no matter how big or small the delivery.” The Sheikh scowled slightly. “Do I have any choice?” “Of course you have a choice,” Brain replied. “Everyone has a choice. But it makes more sense just to fill in the extra payment and receive the rest of your order with the second delivery. You see, barely any delay. Otherwise you effectively leave with nothing and will have wasted even more money.” The Sheikh mulled this over and realised he was left with no option. “Fine, I’ll pay the extra money,” he said. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was short on the stuff. “Do you mind if we sort out the paperwork inside?” “Of course.” The Sheikh stood aside and ushered them towards the plane. “After you.” Brain nodded curtly and started up the short staircase into the plane. As Jack and Ella tried to follow him, Ismail put out a hand to block them. “You won’t be needing those,” he said, nodding down at the guns in their arms. “We’d much rather you left them outside so as to avoid causing an accident.” “They’re coming in with us,” Ella replied sternly. “We’ve just been ambushed and have lost half of our men as a result. We’re not taking any chances.” “It’s alright, Ismail,” the Sheikh said from the mouth of the plane, Brain just behind him. “I’m sure they’ll be careful.” “Fine.” Ismail nodded at them. “In you go.” They all walked up the steps into the private jet and the door was sealed shut behind them. “Please, do take a seat,” the Sheikh said, pointing towards four armchairs surrounding a coffee table. “Might as well do it in comfort.” “We’re fine, thank you,” Brain replied, standing in the middle of the aisle with Jack and Ella either side of him. “We don’t plan to hang around for very long.” “Oh, right.” The Sheikh fingered his neat beard gingerly. “So no refreshments? Not even a small glass of-?” “No thanks. We’re just here to do business.” The Sheikh nodded. “Very well.” He turned to his bodyguard. “Ismail, fetch the briefcase.” “Yes, sir.” Ismail hurried down the aisle and disappeared from view for a few moments, diverting off into a small closet at the back of the plane. When he returned he had a large metal briefcase in his hand, several kilograms of heavy, solid indestructible stainless steel. He laid it on the table and stood to attention. “Thank you, Ismail.” The Sheikh moved round so that he was leaning over the briefcase then pushed up a piece of the metal casing to reveal a small glass panel underneath. “Fingerprint sensitive,” he explained and pressed his thumb against the glass. A red light flashed underneath, soon to turn to green as the fingerprint was accepted, then the buckles came loose automatically and the Sheikh flipped the lid open. Inside was money. Lots of money. In fact, excluding the illegally laundered money bricks that K.O sold, it was more than all the money Jack had ever seen in his life put together. All the notes were in US dollars and of the highest denomination: $100. They were packaged in slabs about the size of a bar of butter, sealed and pressed tightly together in cellophane wrappers. And there must have been at least twenty bricks on the top layer alone. Jack had been in the company of multi-billionaires before; as well as Calvin King there had been the Canadian oil baron Miles Clarke, Forbes’ thirteenth richest man in the world. Jack and a fellow junior agent had been sent by MI6 to protect his family after a number of failed attempts to kill him, the mission culminating in the two of them preventing a bomb from triggering an avalanche that would have otherwise crushed the whole entire village. They’d spent several weeks living with the family, experiencing the jet set lifestyle, and now he was practically round the King penthouse twenty four-seven. He should have been used to it. But that still didn’t detract anything from the slight pang of jealousy that Jack felt whenever he saw anybody with abnormally huge mountains of cash to splash. And this Arab had plenty. “So I’m only paying the first instalment today, is that correct?” the Sheikh said warily. “Yes. To make it fair to the customer, we only ask for the money once the order has been delivered.” “And so how much is it? Taking into account that I’ve already paid the ten per cent forward payment that came with the order, of course.” Brain pulled out a slip of paper and read it out loud. “Your whole order is worth approximately eleven million US dollars, no tax or VAT added on, of course. Deduct the ten per cent forward payment and that leaves roughly ten million still to be resolved. Today was the smaller of the two deliveries and so is worth four million. Finally, considering about half of the stock has been lost from the ambush, I suggest an extra million dollars to cover the replacements is a fair amount all round.” “So five million dollars in total?” “You do the maths.” The Sheikh stroked his beard and nodded. “I suppose that’s reasonable.” “Very reasonable, I think you’ll find. No other organisation would be able to obtain such a large amount of stock in such a short space of time.” “Indeed.” The Sheikh reached into the briefcase and carefully started to take out brick after brick, carefully handling each one like it was a priceless diamond. When his arms became too full, he started stacking them up on the table until there were five towers standing in front of Jack, each one consisting of ten bricks and as high as the Hong Kong skyscrapers. “Fifty bricks, $100,000 in each,” the Sheikh said, clicking the briefcase shut again. “That makes five million, does it not?” “It does.” Brain removed a sports bag which he’d been wearing on his back and pulled open the drawstrings. He didn’t need to check if the money was real or not; the deal worked on a game of trust and if either side attempted to rip off the other they could expect grave consequences. Brain simply counted each brick as he dropped it into the bag to make sure they were all there and, as his mouth formed the number fifty, the final wad of money disappeared from view. “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr Al-Jaber,” Brain smiled, shaking the Arab’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m so glad we managed to see eye to eye on the little incident today.” “I appreciate it’s a dangerous game that you people play,” the Sheikh said, shrugging one shoulder slightly. “And at least you eventually managed to get here. After all, half the order is better than no order at all.” “My way of thinking exactly,” Brain smiled. “Shall I introduce you to your new goods?” “Please do,” the Sheikh nodded. “I’ll just tell the pilot to open up the cargo hold.” Rather than order his bodyguard to do it, the Sheikh entered the cockpit himself, briefly speaking to the pilot before returning to the fuselage. “Lead the way.” Brain sent Ella ahead to warn the others and by the time the Sheikh and his bodyguard arrived at the edge of the runway, the boots of the two vans and the seven-seater estate were wide open. “All the crates are clearly labelled so you know what’s what,” Brain explained. “While there are details on a sheet inside that tells you everything you need to be aware of.” He prised open the lid of a box of claymore mines and stood aside so that the client could examine them. “Very nice,” the Sheikh murmured and ran his hands lightly over a couple of AA-12 shotguns from the box next to it. The quality and condition of each one was perfect, as if they’d just come straight out of the factory which, for most of the items, they had. “Very impressive.” “You approve of the goods?” Brain said hopefully. “I do indeed.” The Sheikh carefully placed the shotguns back where they belonged and Brain shut the lid. “Now they just need moving over to the plane so that we don’t have to carry them so far.” “Right away.” Without Brain even needing to say anything, the doors closed almost simultaneously and the group stood back to allow the vehicles to crawl over closer to the plane. The tailgate had dropped down at the rear of the Gulfstream and the co-pilot stood there with his arms folded, waiting for them to arrive. The convoy stopped, forming a semi-circle around the tailgate, and the boots reopened. “No, no, you leave it to us,” Brain said as Ismail made an attempt to lift one of the crates. “What sort of an organisation would we be if we didn’t include a free bit of manual labour into the price, eh?” Brain clapped his hands together and made a signal. Immediately the other twenty-five remaining members all leapt into action, clambering from their seats and hurrying round to the rears of the vehicles. They each took one large crate in their arms and then lugged it over to the cargo hold where the co-pilot was shouting out directions. “Put them up against the back wall. That’s it. Now do the whole of the bottom layer first and then place the others on top if there’s any still left over.” But the Gulfstream was large for a private jet and the Arab had been expecting twice as many crates to be stored inside, meaning that as the last box was placed down and pushed up against the others so that it didn’t jiggle about, the cargo hold was still less than half full. “Is that the lot?” the co-pilot asked. “It is,” Brain nodded. “You can close up now and get going.” So as the co-pilot made sure nothing would slide about once the plane was in the air and returned to the cockpit, Brain and the Sheikh addressed each other for the last time. “So when can I expect the final delivery?” the Arab asked. “Within a fortnight,” Brain replied. “And the replacements will be included, guaranteed.” “I look forward to it.” They shook hands. “Come, Ismail. It’s time to leave.” Without another word, the two men strode up the staircase and disappeared inside, settling into two leather armchairs to prepare for take-off. The staircase lifted back up again and sealed into place and the K.O team all moved the vehicles back fifty metres so that they wouldn’t be caught in the crosswinds from the engines. The engines started up and the Gulfstream pivoted on an axis, turning a full semi-circle so that it was now facing down the runway. The flashing lights on the wings came on and the pilots did their final checks. “Sucker,” Jack heard Brain mumble under his breath, clutching the bag of money tightly in one hand. “The guy has too much money for his own good.” There was no need to wait for ground clearance; no need to speak to air traffic control for permission to take off. As far as Chinese airspace was concerned, no flight had taken off from this airfield for over half a century. The engines roared and the plane picked up speed, the wheels bumping over the old asphalt. But the pilot kept the machine under control and with a final roar, it lifted off and rose into the sky. From inside the warmth and comfort of the car, Jack and Ella watched the plane until it was just another glimmering star in a universe of black. Then the engines started and they headed for home.8A Rush Of BloodAnd Jack had thought Brain had been furious. When they eventually returned to the Golden Sun it was late in the evening and the narrow streets were empty. So was the beer that Calvin King had been mulling over, waiting restlessly in the bar for the convoy’s arrival. Of course, Brain had already told him by text about the ambush, the losses and the deaths. Not to do so would have been foolish as it allowed King to release his rage with no one about to point the finger at. According to Luke McQueen, to be in his presence upon the hearing of bad news was like standing on the edge of a volcano just as it was about to erupt – you were going to be dead before you even knew it. Then again, this was from Luke McQueen. If he’d exaggerated the whole story just for a cheap joke, it wouldn’t have been the first time. All told, that meant when King heard the convoy park up at the rear of the clubhouse and he opened the back doors to greet them, he at least wasn’t throwing punches at anybody who even so much as looked at him. But if the remaining members were hoping for an easy time, they had another thing coming. King examined the group as they dragged themselves wearily out from their respective vehicles and frowned deeply. The lack of numbers was clearly noticeable. Half the team that had set out appeared to be missing. If K.O was going to become strong again, a drastic recruitment plan was going to need to be put into place. But not yet though. First a few problems needed settling, starting now. At least it appeared as if all the key members were still alive: Brain, Travis, Grimes, Scarlett… Jack. Those five were priceless, utterly irreplaceable. King didn’t know what he might have done if one of them had been lost. As for the others? Well, suddenly they’d become a lot more important to the organisation that they might realise. After stepping out of the sole remaining estate, Brain hurried straight up to King and handed him a black sports bag, weighed down by something heavy inside. “The money, Calvin,” Brain said seriously. “All five million dollars of it.” Despite his anger, King managed to look surprised. “Five million dollars? It was supposed to be four.” “I requested our client paid an extra amount to cover the cost of replacing the destroyed goods,” Brain replied calmly. “He cooperated willingly.” “Are you certain?” “Yes. I told him it was standard procedure, a bit like home insurance. He didn’t suspect a thing.” King nodded. “Fine, well done. We’re going to have to salvage everything we can from this disaster.” “Would you like me to assemble the remaining members?” “Yes, I was just about to come on to that. I want them all in the bar, immediately. No drinks will be served. Not this time.” “Right away, sir.” As King wheeled away and returned indoors, he heard Brain shouting out his orders. It was to be the first of many in the next half an hour or so. King stood at one end of the bar, leaning against the counter and trying to remain calm as he watched each member as they filed into the room. They all looked tired, dirty and worst for wear, but only a handful had noticeable injuries and they could all be treated with medication from a standard first aid kit. King was sure they’d rather be anywhere than here right now, tucked up in bed with a hot drink the most favourable choice. But this had to be sorted. The organisation couldn’t afford another slip up. “Please, do sit down. Depending on how well certain individuals cooperate, this may take a while.” King waited patiently for everyone to find a seat, breathing deeply through his nostrils and out his mouth, then continued. “I want to know what happened out there today and seeing as there are no enemy hostages on whom to call upon, you people sitting in front of me are going to have to provide the answers. Brain has already given me the general outline, but the specific detail that eludes me is how it happened. How could this enemy mount an ambush in the first place? Raj, any suggestions?” The Indian kept his eyes to the ground and shook his head. “I don’t know, sir.” “Disappointing.” King folded his arms. “It should not have been possible. The location of the rendezvous point was top secret information that only a handful of the most senior members knew about. And that fact that they were all ready and prepared for the attack shows that not only did they know the exact location of the delivery, but also the exact time. How they came to know those things, I hope to find out very shortly. “In my opinion, treachery is an offence worse than murder. At least with murder the crime is honest. Treachery on the other hand is cold, wicked and deceitful. But the inconvenient truth of the matter is that we have a traitor in our midst. And, assuming, of course, that they arranged it with the enemy so that they’d definitely survive the ambush, that person is sitting in front of me right now.” “That’s exactly what I was thinking in the aftermath of the battle,” Brain chipped in, giving Travis a meaningful stare across the opposite side of the bar that didn’t go unnoticed. “There can be no other possible way for the enemy to obtain such information other than there being a traitor in the organisation.” “Indeed. And not just a traitor, but a spy as well. Whoever it was must have overheard or specifically listened in when the details were being revealed a few days ago. Either that or they somehow managed to blackmail one of the senior members into parting with the information.” King glanced between Brain and Travis and Grimes and Scarlett – a stern, serious-looking woman in her early thirties with black hair tied back in a bun and thighs like boulders - but none of them so much as moved. “Travis?” “No, sir. We were not blackmailed or bribed by any of the members.” “Well then, that means they were working independently. Which begs the question, doesn’t it? Which one of you is it?” King stroked his chin thoughtfully and examined the crowd in the same way that a farmer might when deciding which live chicken to have for supper. “Actually, before I take any action, I am going to give the culprit responsible a chance to own up right now in front of everyone else. Whichever one of you it is, I suggest you step forward now because I can guarantee that the punishment will be a lot severer if I have to worm the truth out of you myself. A lot, lot severer.” King paused for several moments but no one moved. Jack just kept on staring straight ahead, not taking his eyes off King for fear of looking suspicious. “Last chance saloon people… This is your only opportunity to make the consequences more favourable for yourself…” King waited, but was evidently disappointed when no one chose to turn themselves in. They hadn’t been fooled by the bluff of a fairer punishment. It was going to be tougher than he’d been hoping. “Fine then, chance gone,” he said icily. “You’ve chosen to play it the hard way.” He glanced at Brain. “Senior members, could you come to me, please.” Brain, Travis, Grimes and Scarlett hesitated for a moment then walked over one by one. King led them behind the bar and then spoke to them in a low whisper. “What do you think the best method is to crack this traitor?” he asked. “I want suggestions and good ones. I’m going to find out this piece of scum if it’s the last thing I do.” “The guilt trip,” Scarlett recommended, speaking in a Scottish accent. “You address each member in turn, ask them searching questions and monitor whether they act suspiciously or not.” “A possibility,” King nodded. “Anything else?” Grimes hesitated for a moment as he glanced across at Travis, his mouth half open as if he was trying to speak. “You have a suggestion, Gareth?” Grimes was left with no choice now. Everyone was watching him. He had to put forward the idea. “Yes, sir. How about you search everyone’s pockets for clues that might link them to being the traitor? I mean it could be anything from a dodgy bill to a letter or a phone and if you then team that up with Scarlett’s guilt trip idea, any suspicious behaviour should be even more noticeable.” “I suppose it’s worth a try,” King mumbled, mulling the decision over. “We’ll do it. Brain, tell each member to come forward one after the other and turn out their pockets. I want to see everything that they’ve got on them whether it’s an iPod or a notebook or a picture of their bloody family. Nothing is to go unchecked.” “Yes, sir.” “As for you lot, you can help me with the questioning and the examining. Remember, be thorough. Check once, then check again for good measure. This is one net that this traitor is not going to slip through.” “Yes, sir.” Raj was first up. Even though he was trying not to show it, he looked terrified; not knowing what was about to happen to him. He gulped. “Hello, Raj. Can you put all your belongings onto the bar counter, please, to be checked? And by all, I mean everything.” “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” Raj hastily turned out his pockets and placed them in front of the senior members. Even though he knew he had nothing to hide, he was still scared witless. King noticed this and for a few moments he was suspicious. Could Raj be the traitor they were looking for? But then he realised Raj’s behaviour was so obvious it must have been to do with something else, perhaps the pressure of being the first one called forward. Even if the traitor was as poor and unconvincing an actor as Daniel Radcliffe in the first Harry Potter movie, they wouldn’t make it this plainly obvious. “An iPhone 4,” Travis said, picking up the phone and sifting through the menu page. “Someone is living the high life.” “There’s nothing on there,” Raj said. “I’m just warning you.” “Yes, well, we’ll be the judges of that,” King muttered as he skimmed through the man’s wallet. Raj was clean so he was told to form a new line for checked people inside the deserted gym and then they moved onto the next person. And then the next person. And then the next person. “Ooh, now this is interesting,” Grimes said suddenly, holding up a new Nokia with a large screen for the others to see. “Guys, look what I just found on McQueen’s phone.” “What is it?” King said excitedly and leaned quickly over. Luke’s breath caught in his throat, fearing the worst. “Saucy pictures of McQueen’s girlfriend, that’s what!” Grimes smirked. “And very nice too may I add. No wonder he’s kept the bird secret for so long.” Luke breathed a silent sigh of relief and, now that he knew he wasn’t in danger, decided to quickly get his own back. “Paedo,” he muttered disdainfully in Grimes’ direction. “Look up dirty old man in the dictionary and you’ll find a picture of you leering at some girl from across the street.” “Shut it both of you,” King growled. “And Gareth, to be frank, I don’t find that particularly helpful or amusing. We’re trying to find hints, not tits. Now get your bloody act together.” Grimes scowled. “Sorry, boss.” He finished checking the phone and then Luke snatched it off of him before he could do anything else. “Just because you could never get a girl like that in a million years,” he muttered then grabbed the rest of his stuff and strode off into the gym. When it was Jack’s turn, inside he was deeply relieved that he’d remembered to remove the SIM card in his phone before leaving England and replace it with a new one. Otherwise it would be full of all his old contacts, text messages and phone history, many of them with MI6 members. For the enemy or a Sun news reporter, the information on there would have been pure gold. Certainly, it would have taken a hell of a lot of explaining to squirm his way out of it. The senior members checked his belongings as thoroughly as everyone else, but none of them looked as if they really suspected Jack of the being traitor, particularly as he’d saved Brain’s life and had been the one to come up with the counter attacking plan in the first place. “All clear,” King said. “You may proceed into the gym.” Despite himself, Jack let out a small sigh of relief as he left the bar and stood in the corner of the gym, watching as two guys played a half-hearted game of darts to pass the time. He’d been ninety-nine per cent sure that there had been no clues on him that could possibly link him to being the traitor, but even then nothing could ever be certain. There was still the one per cent chance of things going disastrously wrong and he was glad that he’d got through the ordeal unscathed. A few minutes later, Ella followed him through and they both hovered around the doorway, trying to listen in on what was happening in the room next door. They weren’t the only ones. They’d been joined by a group of about five others, all pressing their eyes or ears to the cracks between the door and the doorframe. Now that they were clean, everyone wanted to know who the real traitor was. But member after member went by and so far the only suspicious thing that the seniors had come across was a used condom in the murky depths of Rex’s pocket. “Trying to recycle,” Rex explained, grinning sheepishly. “Dirty bugger,” Brain muttered and swept it straight into the nearest bin. “Get the hell out of here.” Soon there were only two members left and as Calvin King called the next person forward, his mind had already completely given up hope. Did he really expect to find such important details so easily that all it took was a brief scan of their belongings? The K.O members weren’t stupid – he would never have hired them if they were – so what were the chances that they would make such a basic mistake as leave crucial evidence on their own body? Zilch - that was what. The check had been worth a try, but it wasn’t going to pay off. Not this time. King sighed and forced his mind back to the present. “Stuff on the counter, please, OJ.” OJ emptied his pockets and the senior members started to examine them while King went round to pat him down and make sure he wasn’t hiding anything. But like everyone before him, there was nothing. “Just wait there,” King mumbled, returning to behind the bar. “This shouldn’t take long.” But just then a sudden squeak from Scarlett made everyone turn and look and King could clearly see shock in her eyes as she offered him a black Motorola phone. “Sir, I think you should see this,” she said, her voice barely more than hoarse whisper. King frowned and snatched the phone up, holding the screen to his eyes. Brain, Travis and Grimes all crowded round his shoulders to try and get a glimpse. It was a single text message, the box in the top corner stating that it had been sent by the phone to an anonymous number at precisely two o’clock that afternoon. King immediately made the connection – it was just an hour before the convoy was supposed to have been leaving the clubhouse and would have been just a few minutes after Brain had sent the texts out to all the members confirming the delivery and the details. Already King was beginning to suspect what might be going on here. And that was before he read the actual text message itself. It was only then that his suspicions were confirmed:NM Delivery going ahead. Location: Kuiyongzhen Airfield, Guangdong, China. Expected arrival time: 17:00. Will b on lead bike so don’t shoot. C u there. I’ll b ready. Glück. “NM,” Brain whispered behind King. “Nico Müller.” “Leader of the Black Eagles,” Grimes nodded solemnly. “And Glück,” Travis added. “German for good luck.” “I found it in the recycling bin,” Scarlet explained. “He must have been trying to delete it, but forgot to go the whole way.” King reread the whole text again, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, and then suddenly turned on OJ, his cheeks and eyes flaring. He was a fire-breathing dragon, about to burn a puny human into ashes. “How do you explain this?” he roared, spittle flying into the helpless member’s face. OJ cowered into himself like a tortoise recoiling into its shell, as if King’s voice had physically forced him backwards, and his lower lip trembled. “I- I don’t what it is, sir,” he stammered. His forehead was glazed with a thick sheet of sweat. “This, you treacherous little bastard!” King thundered, thrusting the screen into OJ’s face and almost knocking him out with it. “How do you explain this?” OJ quickly read the message, his pupils almost as wide as the eyeballs themselves, and let out a stifled cry as soon as he’d finished. “Well? Spit it out!” King bellowed, doing just that as saliva continued to go everywhere. “You’re the one that bloody sent it!” OJ started shaking his head, so vigorously that it looked as if it might fall off. “I don’t- I didn’t-” he rambled. “I’ve never seen this before in my life.” “Lies! Utter lies!” King roared. “It’s on your phone for God’s sake! What do you have to say about that? More lies?” “I swear, sir,” OJ cried, “I didn’t send this! I would never betray you! Never!” “I don’t believe you.” “Please, I beg of you…” “Oh shut up! You knew the consequences when you decided to try and turn us in, so why not start standing up to them, eh? Instead of sobbing there like a frickin’ baby.” “But, sir!” King swung his fist across the counter and caught OJ straight in the cheek. For a man that skimped out on the karate sessions and the manual labour side of the company, he sure could pack some power. OJ crumpled to the floor and knelt there clutching his face and sobbing as King turned to his fellow senior members. “We need conclusive proof,” he said, slamming the phone down on the counter. “This message was sent at two o’clock, only minutes after the details of the delivery were confirmed by us in the private meeting. How could he possibly know them so quickly, particularly when he was supposed to be elsewhere at the time?” “Listening device in the room?” Scarlett suggested. “We haven’t had a scan since last week now.” But before King could reply, Travis came up with the answer. “He wasn’t elsewhere, sir,” he said calmly. “He was in the clubhouse, remember?” “Oh yeah,” Grimes said, nodding in agreement. “I remember seeing him now. Apparently he’d just returned from a small delivery over by Kowloon Bay and after Ryan mentioned that the first delivery to the client was very likely to be this afternoon he claimed that there was no point returning home and that he might as well just stay here and wait for the others.” “And where was he when you came up to join us in the meeting room?” “By the bar, I think, helping himself to a packet of crisps.” “Greedy shit,” King muttered and turned to Travis. “Ryan, is this true?” “I do believe it is, sir.” “So he could have easily snuck up the stairs and listened in on our conversation while we were discussing the delivery details?” “Yes, sir,” Travis nodded. “And I guess with no one else around, he was in no danger of being detected.” “He’s lying!” OJ yelled. “I never went up there to eavesdrop.” “But you were here by yourself while the meeting was taking place?” King demanded. OJ faltered, his eyes wide with fright and King knew he’d nailed him. “I was t-” “There you go! Even you can’t deny it now! Pity we don’t have surveillance cameras inside the clubhouse otherwise we could have found out for ourselves.” “But what about the reference to the lead bike?” Scarlett questioned. “How did he know about that so early in advance?” “That would be down to me,” Travis answered. “During the meeting we’d already agreed that I would be on the lead bike and so when I came down and saw OJ – he must have raced down when he knew we were about to finish - I asked him if he wanted to be the passenger. I thought it would be a good idea to find a volunteer as early as possible to save from delays and arguments later on when we were supposed to be leaving. It turned out to be a big mistake, but how was I supposed to know? And no wonder the piece of filth leapt to the chance; it meant he was easily distinguishable from the rest of the convoy and less likely to be hit that way.” “Conclusive proof,” King nodded, and the rest of the senior members agreed with him. “The slimy git,” Brain muttered under his breath. “You’re wrong! You’re all wrong!” OJ shouted, scrabbling hold of the counter and trying to pull himself to his feet. “I’m innocent!” King batted him to the ground with a backhand worthy of Roger Federer and picked up the phone, looking one last time at the text message on the screen. “It all makes sense now,” he said through gritted teeth. “We’ve found our rat.” Then he dropped the phone onto the floor and crushed it with one massive stomp of the heel. “What are we going to do about him?” Brain said, nodding down at OJ’s snivelling wreck on the floor. “We need to show him a lesson,” Grimes nodded. “He can’t get away with this, not betrayal of the whole organisation.” “Don’t worry,” King growled, his ruthless side finally coming out. “I know what I’m going to do.” He walked round the counter and grabbed OJ by the scruff of his neck, yanking him up onto his feet. “You’re coming with me, you lying son of a bitch,” he spat into OJ’s face. “I’ve got a few bones to pick.” Then he took hold of OJ’s sweaty hair and proceeded to drag him towards the nearest exit, OJ howling and pleading his innocence all the while. But King wasn’t going to listen to him. He’d seen all that he needed to see. He opened the door and the two men disappeared outside, moving round to the side alley where no one would be able to see them. Inside the gym, Jack and the others all exchanged shocked stares. OJ the traitor? Who would’ve thought it? But then again, there was the evidence right in front of them, as hard and solid as a slab of concrete. At least, that was what it seemed. Suddenly there was a loud bang from outside the clubhouse and everyone jumped, even the senior members. Then there was a scraping as something heavy was dragged along the rough tarmac in the alley, the object being dumped inside the store room before King reappeared again through the same door that he’d exited from. There were only two differences: Firstly, OJ was no longer with him. And secondly, his hands were covered in blood. Fresh blood. King went straight to the bar and rinsed his hands in the wash basin, making sure he used extra soap to remove all traces of the red, sticky liquid. Then he dried his hands and turned to the senior members, unaware that everyone was now listening in. “His membership has been terminated,” he announced with authority. “Permanently.” 9Price To PayNo one at the club had heard or seen anything of Calvin King since the incident at the clubhouse so Jack was quite surprised a few days later to find a text message waiting for him on his mobile soon after he’d returned from school: Jack I’d like to meet you in private. Today. Tower Block 1, Queen’s Road in the Central District of Hong Kong. You can’t miss it. Ask for Mr King, floor 24, and someone will take you through the rest. Tell no one, don’t deviate and make sure you’re not followed. It’s of paramount importance. Come when ur ready. I’ll be waiting. No name had been left, but even if it hadn’t been mentioned in the text itself, Jack would have known anyway; he recognised the phone number. He’d made it a priority to learn all the mobile numbers belonging to the senior members of K.O off by heart, just in case he was ever in trouble and needed their help, like on a delivery. The digits were as familiar to him as his own family. At first, he wasn’t sure if he should feel elated or scared about this sudden twist in the plot. Any chance at all to talk to King, the Head of K.O, should have been a big positive and an opportunity to discover more about the company as well as further gaining his trust. But after the events of the last few days, suddenly it was a different matter. Jack had always found it hard to believe that Calvin King could be a merciless and extremely successful criminal businessman. It wasn’t just his lackadaisical appearance, but also the fact that he had a family, was protective of his children, supported a football team and always enjoyed a good laugh with the other guys at the club. For example, you never saw Ernst Blofeld or Al Capone cheering to Newcastle United did you? Or any other football team for that matter. To summarise, Calvin King seemed like any other middle-aged father in the world. Except that any other middle-aged father in the world didn’t go around murdering people just because they’d broken a club rule. Admittedly, it was quite a big club rule, but even then… As he changed out of his suit and slipped into something more comfortable, Jack recalled the moment when King had returned into the clubhouse with his hands stained with fresh blood, the bang of the gun still echoing in everyone’s ears. Jack had known he was angry about the ambush, but even then... It had been a rush of blood to the head and he’d lost total control of himself. That was the fact that made Jack so nervous. If there was one similarity he’d noticed between all the dangerous criminals he’d ever met in his life it was that sense of mental unbalance. It was like a tightrope walker constantly tipping one way or another on a fine, precarious line – never equal, never in balance. And all it would take was for something to make that tightrope walker lose his concentration, slip and fall for the balance to be thrown. That was when someone lost control. Ask any scientist; often the most volatile and unpredictable substances are the most dangerous. Such as an atomic bomb, an active volcano or a madman. Jack had hoped King would be different, but he should have known better. In fact, the reality that King had managed to hide and suppress this side of him for so long made the truth even more unbearable. He was a man that would pull the trigger at a person without a moment’s hesitation and there was no getting around that. Before agreeing to the mission, Mr Grey had told him that K.O had a nickname that was meant to summarise their line of work. The nickname was Massacre Chain, apparently because of all the global deaths that the company was responsible for. Well, they could add another one to that tally now. It was all very well reflecting on how ruthless King had proven himself to be, but that still didn’t explain why he should suddenly want to see Jack. Given the choice, Jack may have declined the meeting and decided to play it safe, allowing King a few more days to fully calm down. But Jack didn’t have a choice. The text had been an order not an offer and on the back of the weekend’s events, he was not about to ignore it. Jack made sure he hadn’t left his phone and wallet in his suit and then grabbed a jacket from the peg by the door. It wasn’t going to provide much protection if King was in the mood for a bit of shooting practice, but at least it would fend him from the cold. “Mum, I’m going out!” Jack yelled as he crossed the hall, heading for the exit. If King was expecting him to turn up, it might as well be as early as possible. At least then he couldn’t use tardiness as an excuse against him. “Okay, honey!” Sophie yelled back. “But I want you back by ten o’clock. You’ve got school tomorrow, remember?” “No worries.” Jack quickly slipped out of the door and called for the lift. “Honey,” he scoffed and faked throwing up. On the way down to street level, he began to wonder what it could possibly be that King wanted to talk about. Surely not about the ambush or the events after it? That was in the past, done and dusted with. Just like OJ. Then what? Another delivery? Karate training? Or perhaps even the chance of a promotion? But Jack got the sense that this was just wishful thinking. From reading the text, Jack had got the impression that this was something urgent and of greater importance. Whether this was a good thing or not for him remained to be seen. Central District was a couple of miles further down the coast from the Bennett’s apartment, the main hotspot for all trade and business coming in and out of Hong Kong. This was where all the big offices were: HSBC, the International Finance Centres and all the rest of them. The fact that K.O had managed to sneak among them, apparently unnoticed, was a credit to the success of King and the business. Jack didn’t feel like walking so he got a taxi and was at Tower Block 1 within fifteen minutes. He paid the driver and got out, staring up at the skyscraper. As soon as Jack looked at it, he was reminded of another building. Not here in Hong Kong. Not even back home in London. The building he was reminded of was right on the opposite side of the world in New York, America: The ex-Torpedo Headquarters. The similarities were uncanny. The building was plain but modern, somehow managing to fit in perfectly with its surroundings without giving anything away. Apart from the sign Tower Block 1 above the entrance and a few logos belonging to local security services, there was nothing to hint what could be inside. Like all of the buildings in the city it would have been designed to be earthquake proof, but Jack suspected there may have been a few other defence systems built in if Torpedo had got their way: bomb proofing and sound proofing, for instance. And although there was no spiked fence circling the base of the perimeter, unlike the building in New York, Jack was in no doubt that it would have a sufficient enough security system to deal with any trouble. They could probably tell when an ant was trying to wriggle into the building, let alone a person. Confident that he was being watched by surveillance cameras even as he stood there, Jack took a deep breath and walked into the tower. The reception area was as anonymous as the outside; clean, neat, contemporary – he could have been in the entrance to a health clinic or a swanky hotel. At least there were now some names for people to get a bearing; all imprinted on silver placards behind the reception desk with the floor number beside them. It started off with a housing association on level one and worked all the way up in numerical order until it reached level 22 – a national insurance firm – and stopped. Jack blinked, sure that he was seeing things. But the placard was correct – the floors stopped at 22. “Can I help you, sir?” Drat, he’d been noticed. Now what he was supposed to do? Jack sighed; there was only one thing for it. He approached the guy behind the desk – early thirties, lean-figured, local – who’d spoken to him in accented English and smiled uneasily. “Uh, yeah, hello. I’m supposed to be meeting a Mr King round about now-ish.” “Do you know which floor his office is located on?” the receptionist asked. Bollocks, Jack thought. He’d been hoping the guy wouldn’t ask him that. Now if he gave the floor number and it turned out that it didn’t actually exist, he’d look like the biggest muppet in the history of the world. What if it was a practical joke? Jack thought with horror. What if King was watching him right now, about to start laughing his head off? Either way, he had to find out. And the prospect of being laughed at for being gullible was a lot more attractive than being shouted and yelled at for not turning up, that was for sure. Well, here it goes… “Uh, he told me floor twenty-four… if that’s possible?” And to Jack’s relief, the receptionist nodded and stood up from his chair. “Of course. Would you hold on for one moment?” “Sure.” The man disappeared through a door into an enclosed office behind the desk, closing the door so that no one could peek inside. Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited, gazing around the room. He noticed three cameras in one quick sweep alone, all of them trained almost directly on his position. So he wasn’t going mad about there being twenty-four floors, he thought. That was a good sign. Then the receptionist reappeared and this time he wasn’t alone. There was someone else with him, a second guy, and weirdly Jack recognised him. “Luke?” “Hey! Alright, Jack the lad?” Luke McQueen greeted in his strong Aussie accent. He grabbed Jack’s hand from across the desk and shook it. He looked slightly odd, Jack thought, in a crisp white shirt and tie, but that was probably because he could never imagine someone so immature ever having something so serious as a professional job. Jack was used to seeing Luke play cards and cracking jokes, not working behind a desk. It just seemed… wrong. Jack tried to cover up his surprise by coughing into his fist. “So, you work here do you?” “Duh! That’s why I’m dressed in a suit, dimwit.” “But I thought you worked in the sewage system?” Jack said. “Or was it in the skip on the side of the motorway? I’m confused.” “Oi, you’d better watch it,” Luke warned. “Being a staff member I can kick out anybody that I don’t like the look of. And right now, you’re looking like an annoying little prat to me.” Jack shrugged. “So you recognise him?” the first man asked. Luke nodded. “Unfortunately.” “He claims to have an appointment with Mr King, floor twenty-four.” “Yeah, he told me to expect a new arrival. I’ll handle it from here.” He turned to Jack. “You, follow me.” They called for one of the lifts and waited. “So you’re a receptionist, are you?” Jack asked, merely to break the silence. “Of sorts.” “Isn’t that usually a woman’s job?” “Shut up! Don’t be ridiculous.” “I think it is. You know what I mean, all those slim girls with white teeth and perfectly manicured nails. The ones you always seem to find behind hotel desks.” “You’re so full of crap,” Luke muttered dismissively, but even so Jack could have sworn he glanced down at his fingers as the lift arrived and the doors slid open. As they stepped inside, Jack examined the column of buttons and frowned. “Hang on a moment, there’s no twenty-four!” he said. “It’s alright, don’t shit yourself, Jack the lad.” Luke pulled up a safety notice describing what to do in a fire to reveal a secret compartment underneath housing three extra buttons and a keypad. Luke chose floor twenty-four and then typed in a passcode, using his body as a shield so that Jack couldn’t see. Within seconds, the doors closed and the lift began to steadily rise. “Do you have any idea what King wants?” Jack asked, casting the jokes aside as the seriousness of a formal meeting with the boss of the organisation beckoned. Luke shook his head. “No, and even if I did know I couldn’t tell you.” “Why?” “Breach of rules.” “But how’d he find out?” “It doesn’t matter how, but he always finds out. Always.” Luke looked round the confined space of the lift and Jack found himself doing the same. It didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary, but then again Jack knew that looks could be deceptive. The building itself was a prime example. “If you haven’t already guessed, this is K.O’s formal headquarters,” Luke mumbled quietly. “You’d have to be a complete idiot not to put up hi-tech security systems in every possible spot. The passcode to gain access to the twenty-fourth floor is only the start. The lift alone is packed with more gadgets than a Sony warehouse.” “What do you mean by formal?” Jack asked. “I mean this is where all the financial shit gets done,” Luke replied. “Payments, income, gross profit… you know, business stuff. I’m only a receptionist / security guy so I don’t really know much about it.” “So there’s a second headquarters? I mean, an informal one?” “Of course. Where do you think we store all our stock?” “In the store cupboard?” “Pfft, that thing couldn’t hold a tank.” “A tank!” “Yeah. Did no one ever tell you that we sell armoured vehicles as well?” Jack was excited; finally he might be getting somewhere with K.O’s mysterious base in the mountains. But this prospect was ruined by the sudden stopping of the lift and the opening of the doors. “Out,” Luke ordered. Jack had no choice. Without another word, they both entered the room. For an office, Jack didn’t think he’d ever seen one quite so large. The lift had been housed in the direct core of the building, a large square column that stretched from the ground floor to the top floor and formed the basis from which the rest was built around. It was made of extremely strong steel and would keep the building in place in the unlikely event of an earthquake. Therefore the office formed a circular doughnut shape around the centre, tall bookcases stuffed with binders and folders lining the inner ring. If Jack had managed to look closer, he would have found the names and details of every single sale and customer K.O had ever had printed inside. A large glass coffee table had been positioned on one side, surrounded by seven armchairs with one further one at the very end. By the way the leather was still smooth and shiny, Jack suspected that most of them hadn’t been used in a very long time. Another feature of the earthquake proof building was the distinct lack of windows, solid walls that were also made out of steel taking their place. This was to prevent the glass shattering upon impact and creating a dangerous hazard. Powerful ceiling lights made up for the lack of sunlight, casting a harsh glow on everything below them. The state of the art technology that Jack was expecting came in the shape of several large computers, the monitors spread out regularly along a wide table. At the moment one showed a black and white image of the lift that they’d just vacated, another a camera’s view of the street directly outside the tower while the final one showed the image of a person. The photograph had been taken face on so that the whole body filled up the screen. It was hard to tell who it was because the whole image was displayed in bright luminous colours; green and blues for the background, reds and yellows for the figure. Jack realised it was thermal imaging where the amount of heat being radiated by the object determined the colour. But then after briefly flitting through x-ray mode – revealing a mobile phone and a wallet in the figure’s pockets – it returned to its normal setting. And Jack could see that the figure was actually him. It had been taken as he’d walked into the building and headed towards reception; the hidden camera must have been mounted on the desk. But for all this furniture and all this space, there was only one man that was currently using it. He sat at the glass desk directly in front of Jack and casually switched off the third of the three computer screens with the click of a controller. “Jack! Come in!” Calvin King beamed, all negative feelings from the weekend apparently gone. “Nice and early, that’s what I like to see.” “What was that?” Jack asked, nodding at the now blank computer screen. “That? Oh nothing, just a precautionary scan,” King explained dismissively. “I was making sure that you didn’t possess any unnecessary items on your body, that’s all.” “What? Like a gun?” “Guns, knives, grenades – anything that could potentially cause serious damage,” King said. “We’ve already discovered one traitor in our midst. What’s to say that there aren’t more?” He noticed Jack look taken aback and quickly backtracked. “Not that I’d ever suspect you of betraying me, Jack. Quite the contrary. You’re one of the most reliable members we’ve got. In fact, that’s the reason why I’ve called you in here today. Sit.” He pointed to a chair on the other side of the desk and then turned to Luke. “You can go now, McQueen.” “Sir.” He left. “I bet you’re relieved to hear that you’re not in any trouble,” King said slyly. Jack nodded and puffed out his cheeks. “Just a bit.” Relieved was the right word; Jack had been dreading that King had somehow found out about his ties with MI6 all journey long. Also, after finding out that his whole body had been scanned upon entry, he was glad that he’d decided not to bring any listening devices along. Now that would have been awkward. “Well, you needn’t have worried. I only ever call people into my professional office if I’ve got something positive or really important to say, like now.” “So what do you do when you’ve got something bad to say?” Jack asked. “I storm up to their house and blow the bloody doors down, of course,” King grinned. Jack tried to join in, but the image in his mind of King breaking into someone’s house with a sledgehammer seemed all too real. “So, where to begin… if I’m correct, it’s been two months since you first joined K.O. How are you finding it? Have you settled in well?” Jack was slightly thrown by the question. It was something he more expected his teachers to ask during parents’ evening rather than the boss of a huge criminal organisation. “Uh, yeah, good... There probably isn’t a better job than this for an eighteen year old in the whole city.” King smiled. “That’s what I like to hear. The truth is, Jack, I’ve been very impressed by your attitude and performance in recent weeks and that kind of positive behaviour has suddenly become a lot more vital in light of recent events. That ambush cost us nearly half of our team and even though we’re desperately short on numbers, I can’t just go around hiring the first person that looks as if they can throw a punch. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from this whole ordeal it is to be wary about who I trust and even now I am sceptical about a few of our current members. To find reliable replacements for the lost members is going to take weeks of thorough trialling and investigative work and this is going to stretch our current resources even more. Therefore, in the meantime, we survivors are going to have to work our socks off. I know I can trust you, Jack, to give your all and so that’s why I invited you here today to propose a little offer.” No way… promotion? Jack thought and even though he uttered not a single word, King somehow managed to read his body language. “No, not a promotion,” he chuckled. “Thankfully, all four of the senior members made it through the ambush unscathed. Otherwise, yes, I may have been looking at people to take their place. But as it is, I would like to propose a small pay rise to reward you for your efforts since you joined. Consider it a small incentive for you to keep up the good work.” “So how many extra noughts are we talking here?” Jack grinned. “Double your current pay,” King offered with a smile. “How does that sound?” Jack nodded. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.” He reached forward to shake King’s hand as he expected the Head of K.O did with all business agreements. But before King accepted it, he had one last thing to say: “On one condition,” he said, “And that is that you are willing to do anything, anything at all, for the sake of the organisation.” “Anything?” Jack smiled. “What, like swim across a lake of freezing cold water… or share a bathroom with a hungry polar bear?” But King was deadly serious. “There’s a reason why my workers are paid so highly,” he said, “And it’s not just because the organisation is so wealthy and successful. Most of the time our line of work might seem relatively easy and straightforward, but it’s also dangerous. There’s an element of risk hanging in the air whatever we do. And I need to know for certain that my workers are prepared to do anything for the company’s wellbeing. Including this condition in the agreement confirms once and for all if they’re fully committed to the job or not. In that sense, you’re a bit like personal bodyguards; simple work, paid well, but there’s always a chance that you’re going to have to make a few sacrifices down the line. Except, of course, you get paid much more handsomely than your average bodyguard, especially with that pay rise. I think that’s fair enough, don’t you?” “Uh huh.” “Glad you think so. Now, are you willing to accept this term?” “Sure, no problem.” “Then you’ve suddenly become a rich man, Jack. Congratulations.” Only then did they shake hands. “Your classmates at school might spend all week with their noses buried in text books, but I bet none of them have made as much money as you have.” Jack laughed. “You can say that again.” Now that the business stuff was over and done with and Jack had committed to the K.O bandwagon (as he’d very much hoped) King could afford to relax. He slouched back in his office chair and propped his feet up on the desk. “You fancy a drink?” he asked, reaching down towards a mini fridge underneath the desk. “What is there?” “Coke, lemonade, Red Bull,” King replied. “Anything really so long as it’s not French and has been kept in a barrel for half a century.” “I’ll have a coke.” “You’re the boss.” King pulled out a Coca Cola can and tossed it to Jack before helping himself to another of the same. “The real stuff,” he added. “Not those disgusting supermarket fizzy drinks that are more artificial than plastic surgery.” “Living the dream,” Jack mumbled and cracked open his can before taking a sip. It was ice cold, just the way he liked it. “You weren’t planning to go to the Golden Sun this evening, were you?” King asked, the thought suddenly striking him. Jack shrugged then shook his head. “Not particularly.” “Oh well, that’s alright then.” “Why? What’s happening there?” “Oh nothing, nothing. I was just wondering if you were planning to leave straightaway.” Jack nodded then realised this was the perfect opportunity to ask what had been one of the most pressing questions he’d been contemplating for the past eight weeks. And while the likes of Luke and Raj had never been too sure about the actual answer, surely there would be no such trouble with the Head of the organisation. “Why’s it called the Golden Sun?” Jack asked. “Ah,” King said and smiled knowingly, “The one question that everyone ends up asking at one point or another. If I got a tenner for every time I’ve heard that question thrown about then I’d be… well, even richer than I am already.” He laughed. Was this really the same man that had shot a person in cold blood just a few days ago, Jack found himself thinking? Despite the image of the blood-stained hands still as fresh in his mind as the blood itself had been, for some reason he found himself doubting it. “As you well know, the sun always rises from the East due to the earth’s rotation and here in Hong Kong we’re about as far east as you can get without drowning in the Pacific. A sunrise represents the start of a new day or the start of a new life, a cycle starting back round again. Here at K.O we like to think that this is only the beginning of something great and long-lasting, an organisation to dominate the black market for decades to come, hence why I chose the word ‘sun’ to be included in the name. It’s sort of a metaphor for the philosophy of the company. Every day we are here doing our usual business and carrying out our same goals, much like the sun itself.” “And golden?” “Ah, now that’s a lot more straightforward. Typically gold symbolises power, success and riches – all attributes that K.O aims and has managed to achieve over the past four years. You could say that we are the golden generation of illegal goods dealing. And the fact that it also goes well with the noun ‘sun’ both in the context of a sunrise – the sun always glows gold as it breaks over the horizon, if you hadn’t noticed – and our current surroundings – the Golden Sun or something similar are very traditional and popular place names in this area of the world – makes it the perfect candidate for the name of our club.” “Wow,” Jack said. “That’s deep.” “As deep as the Marianas Trench? You betcha.” “Whose idea was it?” “Mine.” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Really?” “I know, I know… how on earth did I not win a Nobel Prize in literature for it? And what do you mean by really?” “Well, you’re not the one they call Brain, are you?” King laughed and shook his head. “Cheeky bastard,” he muttered. “I have a good mind to throw you out of the window and teach you a lesson.” “You’d have to catch me first.” King chuckled. “Too bad you’ve got nowhere to run.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully and then, as if suddenly remembering something that had been bothering him, leaned forward with intent. “Actually, Jack, now that I come to think of it, there was one other thing that I wished to discuss with you.” “Go for it. I’m in no hurry to get back.” King went to speak, but it was as if he suddenly began to have second thoughts as he paused for a moment, the first word balancing on the tip of his tongue. Then he cast them aside, decided Jack could be trusted, and continued. 10Jack Of All Trades“Here at K.O we have reached a pivotal moment, not only in our history and our present, but also in our future. This revolutionary business deal with the Arab, or Sheikh Al-Jaber as he is more commonly known, was supposed to be a landmark for our success, a marker in the sand to show how far we’d come in the last few years. If anything was going to prove to rival organisations that we were still going strong despite the setbacks, this was it. You see, Jack, this deal is about more than just the money. Sure, that’s got some importance, but the message it sends out to others has the potential to be even greater. And by others I’m not just talking about the enemy but possible customers as well. They’re going to want the best in the business, an organisation that they can rely on to cough up the goods. It might mean paying slightly extra, but that’s a price worth paying in a market as volatile and deceitful as the criminal underworld. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from running an organisation such as this it is that reputation comes first, custom comes second. And if you get the first, the second comes along hand in hand. “Think about it, Jack, you go onto eBay and you find two different sellers of the same product. One is selling it for dirt cheap but has a poor customer satisfaction rating, the other is asking for a little bit more but you know you can trust them. Which one are you going to pick?” “The second one.” “Exactly, and I know that because I’ve been doing it almost every day for the past ten years. And I’m not talking about eBay or another online store, I’m talking about suppliers; for weapons, for illegal goods. Do business with someone you can trust otherwise one day it’s going to come back to bite you, mark my words. I’d never do business with a guy if I knew there was even a slight chance that he could try fobbing me off. And that is why it is so important that we get the customers on our side, at the same time dispelling the rivals into the shadows. And what could make more of an impression than a deal as large as this? The little tiddlers... no one cares about them. But the big deliveries… they’re the ones that matter. Then you know you’re doing business with people from the very top. “More than on any occasion I can ever remember, I wanted this deal to go smoothly. No cock ups, no messing around, just a good old solid delivery. That was all that was required. But at least one other person decided otherwise. One other person decided that this deal shouldn’t be allowed to go through and, well… we all know how that turned out. That’s why it is paramount that this second delivery - soon to be arranged within the next few days - goes through without a single flaw. Not. One. Hiccup. “OJ is dead so at least that’s one problem out the way.” King drummed his fingers on the desk, chewing on his lips. He looked anxious, restless even. “At least, that’s what I thought. I should be relaxed. I should be pleased that we’ve managed to worm out this traitor before he could do more harm… but for some reason I’m not. Some part of me refuses to lie down and concede that all is well. “And I think I know why. It’s been gnawing at me for some days now, keeping me up awake at night and haunting me still when I do get to sleep. That’s why not many of you will have seen me recently; I’ve been too busy with my thoughts. I’ve been trying to take a step back and look at things through a different perspective, a perspective that isn’t blighted by anger and revenge for everything that shouldn’t but did happen last weekend. And I think I’ve finally found the source of my anxieties… “I believe that there is a second traitor among the team, possibly more. If the enemy can turn one guy against me, why not another? And worse than that, I’m even starting to fear that maybe OJ wasn’t the real culprit at all.” “But the text messages,” Jack protested. “They were there for everyone to see.” “I know, I know,” King muttered, clawing at his hair like a mad old woman. “I should be looking at it as conclusive evidence, as I did on that evening at the clubhouse, but now my conscience is telling me different. I mean, could it possibly be just a bit too apparent? A bit too easy to find? Or am I just being paranoid? Is the truth so blindingly obvious that I can’t even see it? Arggh! So many questions and so few answers. It’s driving me insane.” “You’re starting to doubt your own decisions?” Jack ventured. “If you’re talking about killing OJ then yes, I am. Greatly. Deeply. If he were still alive, at least I’d have somewhere to start; a witness who I could force into revealing everything he knew. As it is I’m as lost as a couple of Chinese tourists in the middle of Piccadilly. I know I shouldn’t have reacted so hastily, should have given a bit more thought into the decision. But I couldn’t help it. I was just… so… angry. Getting revenge on the person who’d betrayed me seemed like the only thing that mattered. I didn’t even pause to consider what OJ - traitor or not - was trying to say.” King buried his head in his hands and then reached for a bottle of cold water from the fridge. He drank it greedily, like an animal that had gone days without sustenance. “So what are you going to do about it?” Jack asked, trying to sound comforting. But inside, his brain was more excited at this sudden flood of information than a sprightly puppy after hearing the front doorbell ring. “And am I somehow involved in all this?” King sighed; he’d already demolished half of the whole bottle. “It’s no use. I have to know the truth. I need to know. As I say, K.O’s whole future could hinge on this delivery being successful. It’s make or break. And if it turns out that there is still a traitor somewhere in our midst then they need to be found now, before it’s too late. There is no other option. It’s do or die. “Jack... you’re young, you’re relatively inexperienced compared to most; no one will suspect you of anything but trying to earn a bit of cash for yourself, perhaps to pay for university fees. Plus, you’re an expert in karate – you can take care of yourself. No one is going to give you any grief, that’s for sure. And most of the time they don’t even notice you. You’re in the room, but you may as well not be. All of which makes you the perfect candidate to perform a very special job for me. A job which I would not ask of you under any other circumstance. “I would like you to try and root out the traitor.” Jack went to say something but King held up his hand and it was like flicking off a switch inside Jack’s voice box. “I’m not talking Sherlock Holmes style with magnifying glass and smoking pipe; the importance of this role is that you remain hidden and discrete. No one must suspect that you’re keeping a close eye on them because then the game is up. If the traitor gets whiff that I’m looking out for suspicious behaviour, they’ll play it safe twenty-four-seven and our chance will be gone. Therefore, what I need you to do is… spy. Yes, that’s a good way of putting it. Essentially, I want you to become a spy, a secret agent. And on my command only. I’m not asking too much of you; just mingle in with the crowds, keep your wits about you and relay any useful details that you might pick up back to me. How does that sound? Even this small favour, it will give me so much more reassurance knowing someone is out there keeping an eye on things.” “Does anyone else know about this?” Jack asked. “Brain,” King replied. “I’ve made this request of him too, purely because he is the one person on this planet that I would trust with my life. I promised to him that he would be the only one, that it would be our little secret. But desperate times call for desperate measures and two pairs of ears are better than one.” “And if I think I find the traitor?” Jack said. “What then?” “If you’re sure, if you’re absolutely sure that they’re hiding something… then I’ll bring them in, give them a thorough interrogation and find out what secrets they’ve been keeping from me. Right down to the very finest details. Nothing will be safe.” King was still trying to convince him, but Jack’s choice was already made. A personal request from the head of K.O himself, a job that he’d only deemed two people trustworthy enough out of the whole company to carry out… if anything was going to gain him access to the very top rung of the step ladder, this was it. “I’ll do it, sir,” Jack said after pretending to contemplate the situation. “You gave me a chance in the first place by allowing me to join your organisation. Now I want to pay you back properly.” “Thank you, Jack,” King replied gratefully. “I’ve said it once already and I’ll say it again; we need more people like you. If you discover anything of interest tell Brain straight away and he’ll pass it on to me. Otherwise my door is always open.” Jack nodded then paused hesitantly. “Sir, I’m curious. A few minutes ago you mentioned something about setbacks, setbacks to the company before I’d even arrived. Pardon me for asking, and I hope you don’t mind, but what were those setbacks?” King sighed. “No, not at all, not at all... It will be my pleasure. You say before you arrived, but to be honest it was not that long ago, less than six months in fact. At least, the biggest hammer blow was. We had a sister organisation you see, a sort of Toyota to our Lexus if you understand cars as well as I do. And by that I mean they were the ones that always received the fame, the fear and the plaudits. They were the company that everyone had heard of while we were just the little bit on the side, in existence but nowhere near as prominent. Inevitably, like us, they delved in the criminal underworld, but instead of illegal smuggling and dealing, their forte lied in the likes of assassinations, sabotage missions, human trafficking… the list could go on and on. Basically, if you needed something illegal doing - anything at all - then these were the people you needed to speak to. In fact, come to think of it, that might’ve even been their motto.” “Were,” Jack noted. “You’re speaking in the past tense.” “Unfortunately, yes. The organisation is no longer in existence, leaving just us remaining to fly the flag. In a way that can be seen as a good thing; it gives us a chance to step out of their shadow, to make a proper name for ourselves. But in so many other ways, it was the worst thing that could possibly happen to us.” “Such as?” “Lack of support and protection for one thing. We may have been two separate companies, but that didn’t stop them from helping us out once in a while. Their most notable contribution was the providing of men, trained guards and all that stuff. They would give us extra strength in numbers when our resources were stretched while we could rely on them to man the forts while we out on a delivery, for example. Such luxury is now but a distant memory which is a shame because heck we could use some more workers. In addition, we’ve lost wise heads whom I could consult in troubled times as well as several of our best suppliers who worked and made contact through the organisation.” “But how did they fold? Surely it didn’t happen just overnight.” “You’re right, it didn’t. I’m not too exact on the details, but it seemed to me as if their demise occurred over a number of years. Basically one failure led to another, causing their reputation to plummet like a meteorite from outer space. You see, Jack, it’s just like I told you. Reputation is the key. Coupled with the fact that for some reason the main board members were being shot down like rabbits, it resulted in the organisation entering turmoil. Nothing they did seemed to go right despite extensive planning and preparation. And when that moment arrives, you might as well just turn in and call it a day. There’s nothing you can do. Liquidation is inevitable. King stared at Jack. “Their name was Torpedo. Have you ever heard of them?” Jack scratched his temple thoughtfully then shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t say I have.” “Ah, I didn’t expect you to. And now that they’re gone, I doubt that you’ll hear much more about them either. I don’t want to go the same way as them, Jack, but the fact that the biggest criminal organisation in the world was forced into collapsing just goes to show that, in this business, no one is safe. Often it is as volatile and unpredictable as freak weather which makes it even more important that we recover from this small slip up and regain our balance. And the best way we can do that is by delivering a solid performance in front of the Sheikh.” Suddenly Jack’s mobile rang and he jumped with a start. “Sorry,” Jack apologised sheepishly and quickly went to answer it. It was just like being back at school and facing that embarrassing moment where your phone makes a loud noise during class. Jack could almost feel the teacher’s eyes glaring at him from beside the whiteboard. And for some reason, it always has to happen to everyone at least once. Jack checked the screen, recognised the name and put the phone to his ear. “Charlie, how are you doing, mate?” “Not bad. Bit of a headache after detention, I suppose. Can you believe that Mr Chang made me do a whole bloody test paper just for missing a piece of shitty homework?” “What’s the world coming to?” Jack smiled. From the tone of Charlie’s voice, Jack could tell that for once he was in a relatively good mood. After their spat at the weekend, Jack planned to keep it that way. “Tell me about it. It’s like corporal punishment all over again. And what about yourself? How you keeping?” “Yeah, pretty good. Glad that I missed that detention, that’s for sure.” “Homework is for gays,” Charlie muttered. “I mean, who gives a shit that I’m not going to pass my exams when my dad’s already loaded? I’ll just take a big fat chunk of his Swiss bank account once the old man hits the bucket and then life will be as easy as shit. I’ll have cars, girls, booze… the whole lot!” Jack stifled a laugh and glanced nervously at King to check if he’d heard it. The Head of K.O slowly nodded his head, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “Uh, I probably wouldn’t say that if I were you,” Jack warned. “Why?” Charlie demanded. “It’s not as if he’s listening in on our conversation, is he?” Jack suppressed a smile. “No, of course not.” “You heading Golden Sun tonight?” “I might arrive late, but yeah, why not? I’ve just got to deal with some work first.” “Better not be homework.” “Hell, no! Are you crazy? It’s K.O stuff, uh… something quite important.” “Oh, right.” He always got like this whenever K.O was mentioned, Jack thought ruefully, particularly as his dad still continued to overlook him as a member, even though he’d drastically improved his combat skill. “Listen, mate. Bag a table, bring in the drinks and I’ll be there around eight. How about that?” This seemed to perk Charlie up a bit. “Sure, no problem. I’ll see you there then.” “Will do.” “Sorry about the weekend by the way. I shouldn’t have got so annoyed over the karate.” “Hey, it’s no big deal. Forget about it. I know I have.” “Charlotte’s getting withdrawal symptoms over you as well. She thinks she blew it by storming off last Saturday and is now beating herself up about it; thinks it’s the end of the relationship. It’s so serious she doesn’t even want to go to the opening of the new Ralph Lauren shop down in town. Me old ma almost fell down the stairs when she heard about it.” “Whoa, that it is serious.” “Wanna pass on any message or are you going to allow the local clothes shops to go bust?” Charlie asked. “It was my fault more than anything that she stormed off,” Jack conceded. “Tell her to be at the club this evening and we’ll try and patch things over. It’s the least I can do.” “You old softy,” Charlie muttered. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her.” “Thanks, mate.” “No worries. Alright then, I’ll guess we’ll both see you later at the club.” “I’ll be there.” Charlie hung up and Jack pocketed the phone before turning to King. “How much of that did you hear?” Jack asked nervously. King shrugged one shoulder. “Enough.” Jack tried not to cringe, but King only smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m used to this kind of talk from my kids now. It’s what I’ve come to expect really.” “But aren’t you, you know, a bit pissed that all they want is the money?” “As long as it keeps them happy, that’s fine by me,” King replied. “And in a way, Charlie’s right. I haven’t got much use for billions of pounds other than a few flash cars and a nice penthouse, so most of it is going to end up in their hands one way or another.” “The jammy gits,” Jack muttered and they both laughed. “If you keep on his good side, I’m sure he’d be perfectly willing to lend you a few hundred grand,” King continued, “And by the sounds of things, you’re passing that with flying colours.” “Let’s be honest, there’s not much competition,” Jack said, “Not that that’s taking anything away from Charlie. He can be a bit loopy sometimes, not to mention as thick as clotted cream, but he’s always a good laugh and he’s taken the news of me working for K.O surprisingly well.” “Yeah, he’s a good kid,” King agreed wistfully. “Pity he took from his mother in the brain’s department, but there you go - can’t have it all.” Jack laughed and shook his head, not quite able to believe that King had just said that. “And you’re also getting on very well with my eldest daughter, or so I hear?” “Uh, yeah, you could say that,” Jack replied, trying not to blush. But King was used to spotting the tiniest of twitches in a person’s body language that could determine whether they were lying or not. Noticing a teenager’s rapidly reddening cheeks was almost an insult to his intelligence. “Relax, Jack, I’ve heard it all before,” he grinned, making Jack even more uncomfortable. “Besides, you’ve got nothing to fear. I’m not one of those over protective dads that boots a boyfriend out of the house if he so much as lays a finger on my daughter, no matter what my actions at the weekend may suggest.” “You don’t let Charlie join the company,” Jack pointed out. “That’s different. K.O’s line of work can be extremely dangerous, particularly when you are inexperienced, na?ve and occasionally foolish as I believe that Charlie can still be. With your help he’s getting better, but I won’t risk his life just so that he stops whining to me about letting him join. If he’s going to be a proper man, he’ll learn to deal with it. Then I might start to reconsider. “You and Charlotte, on the other hand, is a different matter entirely. Charlotte’s seventeen – she can look after herself now when it comes to getting with guys. And I trust you, Jack. I trust you to treat her kindly and fairly in the same way that I trust you to serve fully committed to the K.O cause in the commencing few weeks. But more than that, I trust that you will not betray either of us, because if you do then I’m afraid the consequences will be very severe indeed.” “We had a bit of an argument at the weekend,” Jack admitted, “And I haven’t spoken to her since. So I’m going to speak to her tonight at the club and try and sort things out. Hopefully, it will turn out best for us both.” “I know, I heard the phone call,” King said and leaned forward. “If you want my advice, buy her a box of chocolates and give them to her as soon as you meet. She’ll like that, I know she will.” “What kind?” “There’s a chocolatier just down the road from here. When you leave turn right and keep walking for about five minutes until you reach it: Big red sign with stacks of chocolates in the display window – you can’t miss it. Go inside, ask for their continental range and they’ll do the rest. If you really want to impress her, I’d go for the largest box.” Jack fished out his wallet and examined the contents. “Uh, how much is it going to cost?” he asked, holding up a single hundred dollar note. “Sorry, but I wasn’t exactly expecting to buy anything when I came out.” King sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he pulled out his own wallet, removed two five hundred dollar notes and tossed them onto the desk. “Here, go wild,” he said and tucked his wallet away before Jack could protest. “You deserve it.” “Are- are you sure?” “Positive.” “Uh, thanks.” Jack slipped the money into his pocket. “You don’t want me to bring back a box for you, do you?” “For me? Oh no, I’m watching my weight at the moment.” King patted his stomach as if to prove his point. “The missus would blow a fit if she knew I was helping myself to a whole box of choccies.” “Right, I’ll bear that in mind.” “You’ll look out for them, won’t you?” King said sharply. “Charlie and Charlotte, I mean. If there is still a traitor among us, they might start targeting our families in order to try and get to us. I’m not sure I could bear it if one of them was to get hurt, so just keep an eye on them… please. Watch out for any attackers. Make sure that they come to no harm.” “So now I’m a bodyguard as well as a spy and a delivery boy, am I?” Jack grinned. King opened out his palms, shrugged and smiled. “Jack of all trades?” “Jack of all trades,” Jack mumbled and nodded. “I think I like that.” King stood up and so did Jack. They shook hands and then the former showed Jack to the door. “Remember the chocolates,” King smiled as Jack stepped into the waiting lift. “Otherwise you’ll have me to answer to.” “I won’t forget,” Jack replied. “I can assure you of that.” Then the doors closed and suddenly King had gone. The journey back down to the ground floor was carried out in silence, Jack taking the time to examine the lift properly, looking out for the cameras which he now knew were hidden somewhere inside. But he couldn’t find anything. They must have been hidden behind false walls, Jack thought, but he didn’t have any further time to investigate for just then the lift stopped moving and the doors opened up to the reception. Luke McQueen was taking his shift behind the desk, doodling on computer pinball to pass the time. He looked up as Jack approached and swivelled his chair round to face him. “Hey, Jack the lad,” he cheered. “How did it go?” “Couldn’t have been better,” Jack smiled. It was then that he remembered King’s request to look out for possible traitors in the organisation and here was one right in front of him. If King was hoping for him to spy on every single person, he might as well start getting used to it. He tried to study Luke from a different perspective, as if they’d never met before and were only just being introduced. Was he someone that was naturally untrustworthy? Did his behaviour suggest that he had something dark and secret to hide? “Uh, Jack,” Luke muttered. “Why are you looking at me in that weird way?” Jack sighed and gave up. Out of all the members, Luke was the one he suspected least of betraying King. He may not have been the most senior ranked, the most reliable or the most skilled, but there was something about him that made it impossible to ever suspect betrayal. For starters, Jack doubted he could keep a straight face if he tried. And secondly, out of all the members, what kind of enemy would try and turn the one that rarely ever took things seriously? They’d have to be flipping mad. “Uh, nothing, just… thinking,” Jack replied quickly. Luke frowned. “Oookay….” Jack left before Luke could make another witty comment and turned right when he reached the street, remembering what King had said about the box of chocolates. It was getting late so he was going to have to hurry, but if it meant getting back together again with Charlotte as King had promised then anything would be worth it. As he walked briskly along the pavement, glancing at each shop as he went by, Jack reflected on everything new that he’d learnt in the last three quarters of an hour: Calvin King needed to watch his weight, Charlotte liked expensive chocolates and Charlie had a legitimate excuse for being stupid. But overriding all that was King’s suspicion that the organisation still wasn’t safe; there might still be a traitor lurking inside and he no idea who it might be. And it was causing him so much pain and anxiety that he saw it necessary to recruit two private investigators in the shape of Brain and himself to explore the matter. Suddenly all the pressure was back on Jack’s shoulders for he knew that if this traitor wasn’t discovered before the start of the second delivery then things could go from bad to worse. The aim of the mission was to destroy K.O, but it couldn’t be a success if a rival organisation was just going to instantly take its place. No progress will have been made. As Jack saw it, it was like scoring a goal in a football match and then conceding one at the other end straight from the kick off. You might as well have not bothered at all. And so after all this, what did that make Jack? How had his position in the organisation changed from when he’d entered King’s office? Well, King had confided company secrets in him which was certainly promising and had also stated his trust for Jack – another good sign. King also wanted him to be a double agent; working with the other members during the deliveries, but also reporting back to the boss with any useful information. And so considering that he was already a double agent against K.O by working for MI6, what did that make him now? A triple agent? Or was it a quadruple agent? Suffice to say that any more spying and it was going to get seriously confusing, not to mention extraordinarily dangerous. So despite the fact that he was now going to have to keep on his toes more than ever, things were finally beginning to look up. Coupled with the fact that he might have got back together with Charlotte again by the end of the night… Yeah, not bad, Jack thought with a smile on his face. Not bad at all. 11The Man In The ShadowsQuestion: Add together three very late nights in quick succession and what do you get? Answer: a very bad hangover come Saturday morning. When Jack woke he could have sworn that there was someone thumping on the door. Or was that just his head? Either way the noise was so loud he couldn’t even think straight. Slowly Jack’s senses started to return to him. His nose told him that it was close to midday as the smell of frying bacon was thick in the air; Lancaster was cooking a breakfast-cum-lunch of sausages, bacon, beans and toast as he did every Saturday morning. Apparently it was his speciality. His sense of touch told him that there was something digging into his waist, perhaps what had woken him, but he didn’t have the strength to push it away. And finally his eyesight… his eyesight told him that there was someone in the bed with him, head buried deep in the pillows with the majority of the quilt wrapped around them. “Urgh, what’s the time?” Charlotte muttered and heaved herself onto her back. As she did so she retracted her knee and the object digging into Jack’s waist disappeared. “Twelve, I think,” Jack muttered back. God his voice sounded terrible, croaky and deep like a frog. It was also painful, as if someone was rubbing sandpaper against his throat whenever he tried to speak. Jack tried to reach for the alarm clock on his bedside table but only succeeded in knocking it to the floor. “Shit.” “What?” “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Charlotte snuggled up next to Jack and kissed him lightly on the shoulder. It was only when he felt her smooth, cold skin against his that he remembered that they were both naked. It acted as a stimulant and suddenly all the events of the night before started to come back. “God, how much must I have drunk?” Jack muttered. It was a miracle that there were no sick puddles lying around; he must have got rid of it all outside the clubhouse. “More than you’re used to, that’s for sure,” Charlotte yawned. “Usually you’re the one dragging me home.” Suddenly there was a bang on the door and this time it was definitely real. “Hey, I can hear talking. You two lovebirds finally up in there?” “Get lost, Fred,” Jack growled. “You’re not funny.” “Cooked breakfast is nearly ready if you fancy it!” came Lancaster’s call from the kitchen. “I probably shouldn’t,” Jack muttered. “Not if I don’t want to start hurling up my small intestines all over again.” “Thanks for reminding me,” Charlotte muttered and slipped out of bed. Jack watched as motionless as a statue as she found her clothes which had been strewn across the floor from the night before, redressed as respectably as she could and then leaned over Jack’s face to kiss him goodbye. “I had a great night,” she said and her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Can I expect to see you at the club again tonight?” “If I can force myself to make it,” Jack nodded. Despite all the aching muscles in the world, Jack knew he was going to have to go regardless. Part of King’s request involved him being surrounded by the other members as often as possible and the only way he could achieve that was by going to the club every evening. Most of the time he came back alright, but a combination of Charlie, Charlotte and it being Friday night had sent him over the edge on this occasion. Not that he was regretting the outcome in any way, shape or form. “I’ll see you later then,” Charlotte said and then slipped out of the door. Still lying in bed, Jack heard her greet Lancaster, politely refuse the offer to stay for lunch and then leave through the front door. For the first time in hours… silence. Jack groaned and rolled out of bed, heaving himself to his feet. He then wrapped a dressing gown round his body and quickly darted into the bathroom before anyone could spot him. Unless he wanted to risk facing the wrath of Brain or King when he arrived at the club, it was probably best to start sobering up as soon as possible. A cold shower did the trick and Jack was feeling a lot more alive by the time he joined the rest of the family at the kitchen table. “Ah, so the monster finally awakens!” Lancaster announced, clapping Jack on the back as everyone else sniggered into their plates. “Fancy a fry up to get your strength back?” “I think I’ll stick with cornflakes, thanks,” Jack muttered and went to the cupboard to fetch himself a bowl and the box of cereals. “Presumably you haven’t had a chance to read the text message yet,” Ella said as Jack sat back down at the table. Jack almost spilt milk over Toby’s plate. “Oi watch it!” the fourteen-year-old protested, shielding his rasher of bacon protectively. “Sorry, Toby. And what text message?” “It arrived this morning from King which just goes to show how important it is. But even then, I found that there wasn’t much to it. Basically it’s just informing us that the second delivery has been arranged and so to expect to be called to the clubhouse within the next few days.” “So no specific details?” “Not a sausage.” “Speaking of sausage,” Lancaster interrupted, “Are you going to eat that?” He pointed to the untouched Cumberland on Ella’s plate. “It would be a waste of my excellent cooking if it were to go cold.” Ella rolled her eyes. “Fine, have it.” “Then how are you supposed to know when to get ready?” Toby asked, resuming the conversation. “I think that’s the point,” Jack said. “You don’t. As a means of protection, King and Brain are keeping the exact details in the dark until much later notice.” “Now to see whether it actually works or not,” Sophie added. “For our sake, let’s hope it does,” Lancaster concluded, swallowing down the last mouthful of sausage. Jack helped the others clear up then returned to his room. It was as he was reluctantly pulling out an A-level biology revision book from underneath his bed that he noticed the pocket mirror lying on the floor, half hidden underneath a pair of balled up socks. For something so simplistic in design it had cost the buyer a fortune, the metal casing made out of pure silver and with a sparkling circular ruby embedded on one side. It could only belong to one person. “Charlotte,” Jack muttered and shook his head knowingly. “Dopey girl.” The buyer had been her father, of course; a little present for her sixteenth birthday. Jack picked up and gave it an examine, hoping that the dirty socks hadn’t somehow tarnished the metalwork. But despite a faint pong that might’ve been sweat, it was perfectly fine. Jack rubbed it clean against the side of his jeans and then slipped it into his pocket. He could give it to Charlotte when they saw each other again at the club. Then he settled down on the bed, forced himself to pick up the text book and began to skim through a section on the structure of the heart: The human heart is really two separate pumps lying side by side. The pump on the left deals with oxygenated blood from the lungs, while the one on the right deals with… Within minutes, Jack was already drifting out of consciousness…*“So that’s where it was! I’ve been looking for it all day.” Charlotte took the silver mirror off Jack and then gave him a slobbery kiss on the lips by way of thanks. “My dad would have killed me if he found out that I’d lost it.” Calvin King killing someone… wouldn’t have been the first time, Jack couldn’t help thinking. Charlotte placed it safely in her pocket and then beckoned him further into the clubhouse. “Come on, Charlie’s already got us some seats.” Charlie sat in the corner watching a football match on the plasma screen TV hanging from the wall. At a modest fifty inches, it was slightly shorter than the ones in the King’s penthouse. No surprises, Charlie was slurping his way through a glass of beer, but at least he still had the awareness and courtesy to kick out a chair for Jack to sit on. “Alright, bro?” he said. “Where’s Ella? Ain’t she coming?” “She’s giving it a miss tonight,” Jack replied. “Has a history essay in for tomorrow or something.” “Pah!” Charlie muttered in disgust. “I thought she was better than that.” He turned his attention back to the football match. It was a Premier League game between Swansea and (who else?) Newcastle United – a large proportion of the club’s favourite team. At the moment Newcastle were losing by a single goal with fifteen minutes to go and the born and bred Geordies were beginning to get agitated. “Bring Ben Arfa on, you stupid pillock!” Baz shouted out loudly. “We need a bit of creativity in the final third.” “Give it a few more minutes,” Rocky murmured. “The gaffer knows what he’s doing, you’ll see.” “Do you have any idea what language they’re speaking?” Charlotte murmured under her breath to Jack. “It’s called man-talk,” Charlie announced, overhearing their conversation. “You wouldn’t understand.” “Evidently.” “Who do you support again?” Charlie asked, glancing back casually towards Jack. “Arsenal,” Jack said with a smirk. “Best team in the world, bar none.” “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re just a bunch of French pansies who are scared to have a shot at goal.” “Ahem, where are Newcastle in the league?” “Seventh.” “And where are Arsenal?” “Last?” “No.” “Fourth?” “Exactly.” Charlie shrugged. “We’ll smash you next time we play each other.” “Yeah, I look forward to it.” “Alright, twenty pound bet?” “Pah, that’s nothing to you. You could afford to pay ten times that much just from your weekly pocket money.” “Okay then. You bet twenty quid, I’ll bet two hundred. How about that?” “Mate, you’re on.” They shook hands. “Easy money,” Jack grinned. “Cash or cheque will be fine by me. Theo Walcott is going to wipe the floor with you.” Charlie snorted. “Theo Walcott, my arse.” “Can we stop talking about football,” Charlotte said sulkily. “I don’t have a clue what’s going on.” “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Charlie murmured, watching the game intently. A Newcastle player had an effort from the edge of the box that easily cleared the crossbar and everyone gathered around the TV screen groaned with annoyance. Jack went to the bar to order a new round of drinks and then followed the next five minutes of the match, laughing at Charlie and mocking him whenever Newcastle spurned another golden opportunity. “Now come on,” Jack teased, pointing at the screen, “Even you could have scored that one.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Well, you’re hardly Lionel Messi, are you?” “I played Sunday League back in England, I’ll have you know.” “What position?” “Left back.” “What? In the changing rooms?” “Piss off.” Charlotte groaned loudly. “I didn’t come here for a lecture on sports, you know.” Jack realised he’d been blanking her and should have been acting more considerate, such was the recent fragility of their relationship, so moved his chair round so that he was next to Charlotte and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, Char, I was getting a bit carried away.” Charlotte shrugged. “It’s alright,” she pouted, but by the way she spoke she made it clear that it wasn’t alright at all. Jack leaned across, kissed her on the cheek and then took a swig of his drink. “What say we find somewhere more private?” he suggested. “Just you and me.” “No football?” “If that’s what you wish.” They both leapt to their feet and bundled their way from the table before cutting into the games room. Charlie didn’t even notice them for, at that moment, Demba Ba chested down a through-ball over the top of the Swansea defence and stroked it coolly past the goalkeeper. The British K.O members roared and pumped their fists with delight, more than one of them sending beer cascading over the unfortunate guy sitting next to them. “What did I tell you? What did I tell you?” Rocky could be heard boasting. “Drat. The jammy gits have equalised,” Jack muttered, only for Charlotte to dig him sharply in the ribs. “What was that for?” “No football, remember?” “Oh yeah, sorry.” A couple of members were gathered round one of the pool tables so they diverted off and slipped through the fire exit at the back of the building. They emerged out in the drop-off zone where the air felt the full force of the cool winds blowing in from across the Pacific. “Shit, it’s cold,” Jack trembled. “Let’s try round in the alleyway.” It turned out to be a good call. The alleyway was a lot more sheltered with the clubhouse and a high brick wall shielding them from the elements and trapping in the heat. “Enough dawdling,” Charlotte muttered and thrust Jack against the wall before moving in for the kill with her tongue. They were wild lions, clawing at each with every inch of their bodies. Jack plunged one hand down the back of Charlotte’s mini skirt and gave a cheeky squeeze. Charlotte yelped in surprise, but didn’t resist. “This is much more like it,” she mumbled, coming up for air. “Agreed,” Jack muttered, his face now plastered with so many smears of red lipstick that it was as if a bomb had gone off in a branch of Boots. If they’d known him better, some people might have asked what had changed over the past week in Jack’s attitudes to convince him that going out with Charlotte was actually the right decision both morally and physically. Well, aside from the obvious in that it could greatly help the progress of the mission (Sophie hadn’t been totally convinced by this) through close ties with the King’s, Jack had come to realise that he was now eighteen and you were only eighteen once in your life, even if you grew up to be as old as the Queen. He remembered someone telling him way back that your teenage years were supposed to be the ‘happiest time of your life’ when you didn’t have work or kids or mortgages or bills to worry about, only school exams. Oh, and deadly criminals from all around the globe if you happened to be a MI6 junior agent. But that fact of the matter was that Jack wouldn’t have many chances like this come round again, so he might as well enjoy himself while he could. At least, that’s the way he saw it. As they continued to snog passionately in the alleyway, Jack lost all sense of time and location. They could have been there for seconds or they could have been there for minutes… who knew? They could have been back in one of their bedrooms, not outside a Kowloon clubhouse on a cool November’s day. But even if the weather had reached them, neither of them would have felt it. The warmth each one radiated would have put the sun to shame. The only thing Jack was aware of was Charlotte’s thighs pressing against his waist and her soft lips brushing and caressing over his like the paintbrush of some majestic artist. It was a wonderful feeling, a moment that he could pause and live for the next hundred years, and now Jack was in no doubt that he’d made the right choice. Charlotte didn’t seem to be arguing either. However, this blissful embracement was abruptly ruined by a sudden creaking from up the far end of the alley. “What was that?” Jack said, his natural instincts getting the better of him, even in an irresistible situation such as this. “Probably just someone popping out the club for a fag,” Charlotte murmured, kissing his neck delicately. “They do it all the time.” Rather surprisingly, Charlotte had been right. The noise had been the front door of the clubhouse opening and as Jack looked up the alleyway, he noticed a shadow sweeping across the paving stones. It paused underneath one of the entrance lights and stood still. Still trying to satisfy Charlotte’s desires but his intrigue quickly getting the better of him, Jack pulled her over to the opposite side of the alley and leaned against the brick wall, nibbling her on the cheek while discreetly casting a glance over at the silhouette. Drat. They’d moved just before Jack had had a chance to look and now stood in the darkness, looking around at the clubhouse and the surrounding area like a burglar sizing up their next bank job. Even from afar and with Charlotte’s wavy, scented hair obscuring his view, Jack could tell it was a man; the physique was too hulking and too slab-like to be a woman. However, that hardly narrowed the possibilities down. Apart from Scarlett, Tori and perhaps a couple of others, all the remaining K.O members were male. So who was it then… the man in the shadows? And if they’d popped outside for a smoke like Charlotte had suggested, why weren’t they lighting a cigarette? Suddenly the figure pulled out a mobile phone and the screen lit up like a light bulb as they briefly typed something in. However, either by smart calculation or pure damn luck, the darkness remained thick enough to preserve his identity. The phone went away and Jack felt his heart start to race even faster for no reason that he could explain. Even with Charlotte’s hand sliding up his back and her lips blessing his bare neck, his attention was long gone. Suddenly, in barely more than a second, the man in the shadows had turned around and started to stride down the pathway leading away from the clubhouse, emerging into a high-rise council estate with budget price apartments. In less than half that time, Jack had made his mind up about what he was going to do. “Kiss me again, Jack,” Charlotte purred, positioning her curvy body close against his. But no matter how tempting the idea, Jack’s mind was set. “Sorry, babes. I’ll be back in a moment.” He slipped out of Charlotte’s stunned grasp and sprinted down the alleyway after the figure, eager not to lose him so early on in the pursuit. By the time Charlotte had finally found her tongue, Jack was no longer there. Aware that the noise of his trainers on the pavement could give away his position, Jack slowed to a brisk walk and peered into the gloom. Yes, there he was. His silhouette illuminated by the amber glow of a passing streetlight, he was making hasty progress through the council estate towards another block of flats behind it. Whoever he was, the man was wearing a long black trench coat with the collar drawn up to shield his face. Pulled low over his head was a red baseball cap sporting the emblem of the local national team. It completely shrouded his face in darkness, so effective in the dimming light that he could have been wearing a balaclava. Trying to pick out any specific details, particularly from twenty metres away, was like trying to watch a film with a blindfold over your eyes. The man had chosen the perfect moment to go for a walk; on such a miserable day in the city, everyone with any sense was either cooped up indoors or sheltering inside their cars. As a result, the narrow streets were about as populous as the Gobi desert. Even so the man did not rush, sticking to his brisk walk so as not to draw attention to himself. Thus Jack was able to keep up with him easily, giving him plenty of time to duck into the shadows whenever they reached an open stretch of area. But really he needn’t have bothered. The man never looked back once. As far as he was concerned, all was well. A rusting street sign pointing towards a modern complex of apartments appeared in front of them. The man didn’t hesitate. Like each of the times before, he simply carried on walking straight into the estate. Jack had originally decided to follow the man because he’d thought the character’s behaviour had been suspicious; the way he’d been standing there looking around shiftily, as if he’d had something to hide. But now he wasn’t so sure. Could he just be one of the members returning home from the club? That would certainly explain why he was passing through so many housing estates and why he was content to just amble along through the night, enjoying the fresh air. But then the man entered a residential square… …and suddenly the picture changed. 12The Balance Of PowerStanding in the middle of the square, positioned each side of a lamppost like bodyguards shielding a valuable client, were a further two men. Tall, stocky and with chiselled facial features that could have been made out of warped steel, their hair appeared fair underneath the streetlights. But that was the only thing fair about them. The look in their black eyes was murderous, following the cloaked man every step of the way as he walked towards them. Jack suspected this was the closest he’d ever come to staring into the eyes of Medusa. The square was a perfect place for a meeting, set out like a compass with four different routes from which to enter from… or to escape from. The three men were the only ones about, the only other movement a discarded plastic bag rolling and fluttering about in the wind. It seemed everyone else had turned in for the night judging by the number of dark rooms and drawn curtains stretching up the four blocks of flats. Crouching behind a recycling bin on the edge of the square that stank of raw fish and rotting vegetation, Jack had a relatively good view of the events as they unfolded. One of the newcomers stepped forward towards the approaching figure and his lips curled into a toothy smile. However, Jack had seen piranhas with a friendlier grin than that. The man was dressed in ripped jeans, a skull and crossbones t-shirt and a leather jacket with metal spikes studding the shoulders. Jack half expected him to be wearing leather cowboy boots with spurs and perhaps a silver chain with a cross dangling from the end to match, but it was just black boots on this occasion. The soles were so thick you could have hidden a small handgun inside them. The man held out a massive hand and the figure from the club had no choice but to shake it. Jack watched as the newcomer tried to squeeze the bones inwards, but surprisingly the cloaked guy was easily a match for him and simply squeezed back. “You’re keeping your strength up,” the man in the leather jacket grinned, trying to hide his evident disappointment. “That’s gut. Sehr gut.” “It’s not all about strength, Nico,” the cloaked man replied, purposely keeping his voice low and grating. “Technique plays a big part in it as well.” The leather jacket man – Nico – tried not to smirk. “Whatever you say, big guy.” He thumped the cloaked man on the shoulder and then turned back towards his equally ugly accomplice. Nico… where had he heard that name before? “Come,” Nico called to the cloaked man, beckoning him over towards the streetlight. “We have much to discuss.” And that was when Jack realised. The man was speaking in a German accent… just like all those enemies that had ambushed the convoy on the first delivery. Jack tried to recall what Brain had said about the rival organisation, the Black Eagles: “Nico Müller – joint leader of the Black Eagles along with his compatriot, a guy that goes by the name of Franz. They’re both nasty pieces of work, I can tell you…” Nico… it couldn’t be a coincidence. This was the nasty piece of work that Brain had been talking about and here he was, right here in Hong Kong! Which by power of deduction meant that the thickset guy standing next to him was Franz. Brain had thought they were both nasty pieces of work… now Jack was beginning to understand why. “So tell me, my good freund,” Nico said. “What new updates do you have to share with us?” The cloaked man replied in a hushed growl, so quiet that Jack couldn’t make a single word out. This was no use; if he wanted to hear the whole of the conversation, he had to get closer. “And what about the second delivery? That is what you mentioned in the most recent message.” Jack spotted a second recycling bin further up ahead – this one for cardboard and papers – and with the three men distracted by their questions, he quickly scampered forward and ducked down behind it. “What do you mean you don’t know?” Nico demanded. “I thought in your position you were supposed to know everything?” “Normally, yes,” the cloaked man mumbled. “But after the ambush on the first delivery, King is being extra cautious with all the details. He won’t even tell us the exact day it’s going to happen only that it will occur soon.” Nico swore loudly in his native language and spat at the ground. There was something about what the German had just said that had caught Jack’s attention, but he was struggling to work out what it was… What do you mean you don’t know? I thought in your position you were supposed to know everything. And that was when it struck him. Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Clearly, the cloaked figure was a member high up in the hierarchy of K.O, one that got to hear about any new news stories much earlier than most. That was why Nico was expecting him to know all the information coming out of the organisation. Then it clicked. One of the senior members. It had to be: Brain or Travis or Scarlett or… Grimes. If Jack hadn’t been positioned less than twenty metres from the three men, he might’ve gasped. From past experience, Jack knew that Gareth Grimes could be a true bastard if he wanted to be. He also had a cruel streak, enjoyed inflicting pain on other people and had that slimy, greasy aura about him that always made you suspect whether he was telling the whole truth or not. Jack had always had a hunch that there was something dodgy about him, right from the first moment they’d met. And now here was the proof. It all fitted into place. Grimes was the real traitor. It couldn’t be anyone else. “So does anyone know about the delivery?” Nico asked, his fists clenched. “Apart from King, obviously.” “Brain, the second in command,” Grimes muttered. Yes, Jack thought excitedly, even the voice was starting to sound familiar now. “The two never hide secrets from each other when it comes to business and, apparently, he’s the one guy that King trusts more than anyone else. If you ask me, it sounds pretty fishy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were homosexual buddies or something.” Franz roared out laughing while even Nico, angry though he was, managed a callous smirk. Jack felt like punching them all square in the face, particularly Grimes. After everything, how could he just betray them like this? All in good time, Jack thought, all in good time. “I’ll agree with that,” Nico chuckled, “But it does leave us with a problem. It’s vital that we know the exact details of the delivery as far in advance as possible so that we can plan and prepare ahead for another ambush. I need not remind you that, if this next attack is successful, it will almost certainly spell doom for Calvin King and the whole of his organisation.” “Yes, he knows that,” Grimes replied. “And that is why he is being so overprotective about it.” “We need twelve hours at least, I’d say, to get ready before the delivery begins,” Nico estimated, “Which means that if you have not found out by then, you need to start taking drastic action, even if it means risking your cover.” “Such as?” “Target this Brain guy. After King himself, he seems to be the best source of information. Talk to him, get him drunk, bribe him or threaten to throw him off a building; I don’t care. But when the time of the delivery draws near, I want to know everything that King is planning to do: Where they’re going, how they’re getting there, what weapons they’ll be using, what mode of transport, how many people… shit, I even want to know what colour shirt he’s wearing so that I can snipe him dead with one bloody bullet. Everything, do you understand? Everything.” “I’ll see to it, Nico,” Grimes growled. “Don’t you worry.” It was then that Jack suddenly sensed someone behind him. He whirled round in panic, knocking over the recycling bin in his haste. Balls of paper and brown packaging cardboard sprawled everywhere, causing the three men’s heads to snap round. But even after all that, there was still nothing that Jack could do to defend himself. A large frame leapt on top of him and Jack suspected that if he was ever charged at by a giant hippopotamus, it would hurt something a bit like this. Jack smacked against the ground, his shoulders jarring as he tried to withstand the fall. He felt a burning sensation shoot down both his arms as they scraped along the concrete. The attacker grabbed Jack’s neck and tried to pin him to the floor, squeezing tight. Somehow Jack managed to wriggle out from underneath him by elbowing him in the balls, but he hadn’t even made it onto his feet when the second guy arrived. Working as a team, they managed to bring Jack under control and then dragged him forwards into the open space of the residential square. Nico Muller stepped forward, his face angry. “What is this?” he demanded in German; little did he know that Jack understood every word of it. “Who is this person?” “We don’t know, Herr Müller,” the larger of the two attackers replied. “We just saw him hiding behind one of the bins, listening in on your conversation.” “A spy if ever I saw one,” the other one added. Nico stepped forward and grabbed Jack by his hair, wrenching his head back so that he had no choice but to stare into the German’s devilish eyes. Jack let out a moan and Nico slapped him across the cheek. “You!” he yelled reverting back to English, more spittle ending up on Jack’s face than inside the German’s mouth. “Who are you and what are you doing here? And I suggest you think very carefully about your answer before speaking.” With Grimes in the vicinity and sure to recognise him as soon as he looked at him properly, Jack decided that there was no point keeping up pretences. He stared back angrily at Nico, challenging his authority just as Grimes had done with the handshake, and summoned up as much gob as he could in his mouth. “Or what?” he said and spat with all his strength. Nico roared with rage and wiped the saliva from his skin with the front of his punk t-shirt. “Otherwise, you little schwein, I’m going to make the future very dark and miserable for you indeed.” “Try me,” Jack snorted, trying not to act afraid. “And in terms of names I’m already one step ahead of you, Nico Müller.” Such was the tremendous bellow that erupted from Nico’s lungs, you could have been mistaken for thinking that he’d just found out that his wife was having an affair with another bloke. Not that a guy like him would ever have a wife, Jack suspected. How many girls were there out there that liked a man with bad breath, a short temper and who stomped around dressed up as if he was a punk rocker from the 1980s? Not many was Jack’s best guess. Too cross to put up with Jack’s backchat any longer, Nico shoved him roughly towards the floor and then stomped back to the two others. “I’d keep your voice down if I were you, Nico,” Grimes muttered warningly. “You don’t want to wake up the whole neighbourhood and get the local cops on the scene.” “Shut it, you,” Nico muttered, “And start making yourself useful.” He turned and pointed an accusing finger at Jack, his forehead streaked with a nasty combination of sweat and spit. “You’ve been hanging around here for the last four years. Tell me if you recognise this guy.” “Oh, I recognise him alright,” Grimes said, louder and clearer than before. Jack found himself frowning; something wasn’t quite right here... “What do you mean you recognise him?” Nico demanded. “You haven’t even bloody looked at him yet.” “I don’t need to,” Grimes continued calmly. “I already know who he is.” “Who goddammit?” “His name is Jack Bennett and he is a current K.O member. Joined a couple of months ago if I’m not mistaken and has so far made quite a name for himself.” Now Jack was certain that something was wrong. It wasn’t the fact that Grimes knew who he was – he’d been expecting that – but rather that there was an element to his voice that had changed over the last few minutes. It wasn’t that it had become more sinister or more threatening. It was simply that the whole tone had changed completely. In other words, it wasn’t Grimes’ voice. “A K.O member, eh?” Nico muttered and his cruel grin quickly returned to his face, even uglier than the one plastered on his t-shirt. “Then maybe he’d like to know the real identity of one of his colleagues. Go on, put him out of his misery...” He elbowed the cloaked man in the ribs then stood back to give his colleague the full attention. Jack could only slump and stare as the man turned around and slowly removed the baseball cap that had been shielding his face. “Hello there, Jack. I must say, it’s nice to see you again.” It wasn’t Grimes. It was Ryan Travis. Standing there in the broad light from the lamppost, there could be no mistaking the man’s real identity. Not from five metres away. The greying brown hair, the well-toned body, the once friendly, comforting smile – it was the same guy that had led so many of the K.O karate training sessions over the past ten weeks and had always been happy to provide invaluable advice and encouragement to those who sought it. “No, it can’t be,” Jack stammered, shaking his head. “I thought… Grimes….” “Yes, he does seem the type, doesn’t he?” Travis agreed, nodding his head. “Meanwhile, who would ever suspect me: sensible, likeable, inconspicuous Ryan Travis?” Not Jack, that was for sure. He doubted he could be more gobsmacked if a UFO happened to land on top of one of the apartment blocks. Of all the people it could have been… Jack wondered how King would react if he could be here now. “I’m sure you’ll be wondering why I did it,” Travis continued. “Well, please, allow me to explain.” “We don’t have time,” Nico interrupted, but for once the German was not going to have his way. “Jack obviously wants to know so I’m going to tell him,” Travis said firmly. “If standing here in the open is what’s bothering you then we’ll move.” Travis led them over to a more secluded area round the back of one of the buildings and Jack was dragged before him once more. Jack didn’t know whether to watch him with interest or look away in shame. To think he’d trusted Travis for all these weeks, confided in him and chatted to him in the club over a pint of beer… it was like Craig Taylor and MI6 all over again. “Let me begin by hearing your thoughts,” Travis said. “To be honest, I am quite intrigued. Why do you think I’ve chosen to betray Calvin King and K.O?” Jack shrugged, brain still not functioning properly. “Money?” Travis allowed himself a smug smile. “Money? That’s what everyone says whenever they are asked that question. Even in the aftermath of OJ’s passing that was all anyone could ever think of: oh, he’s done it for the money. The rival organisation is offering to double his wages or something like that. But in this case, that’s where you’re wrong. After over ten years at K.O, I’ve got plenty of money. I could call it a day this very moment and still have ample resources to see out the rest of my life such is how wealthy I am.” “Then what?” Jack asked. “Two words, Jack: power and control. You see, I may have been a senior member with K.O, but in the grand scheme of things that means nothing. It’s like having a small share in a huge company, as I’m sure Calvin and his business mind would put it. When it comes to all the big decisions, my opinion barely ever makes a difference. Naturally, King is the big shot of the organisation, the one that pulls all the strings, but Brain plays an important role as well. As he continually likes to boast, he’s the one that organises all the deliveries. You know, now that come I come to think of it, maybe Nico’s right when he says that they’re gay buddies or something, because King has always favoured that bastard over everyone else, no matter what happens. And that’s even though, all those years ago, Grimes and I actually joined King’s organisation before Brain; when the company was nothing more than just a small gang that delved in smuggling illegal goods across the North Sea to Scandinavia. I was there from the start. I should be the one that is the second in command. “But no. King chose that arrogant prick instead and, inexplicably, has stuck with him ever since, even when the bastard cocks up big time and shits himself about what’s going to happen. Why, he’s even still doing it now, after all these years! You were there at the ambush, Jack, so you would have seen him: pointing the finger at everyone but himself and running around like a frickin’ headless chicken, shouting and screaming about how awful the situation was. You need to keep a level head in those types of situations and think things through properly, just as I did. Calvin King made a fatal mistake when he chose Brain over me, but only now is it really going to come back to haunt him. “The Black Eagles are offering me everything that I am looking for: power, control, authority and this time it’s going to be fair for all. Three leaders in control of the organisation which means that we can put triple the amount of brainpower and effort into every plan. And if some of us disagree on a subject we simply have a vote; the beauty about having three leaders is that you’re always going to get a majority. “They first made contact with me six months ago and, at that moment in time, they had no idea about the inner feelings that I have just revealed to you. They were simply looking for someone to bribe, someone who was already embedded relatively high up in the organisation and who would be able to pass on plenty of secret information from right under King’s nose. They struck gold at the very first time of asking. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for, not only to claim my rightful position at the top of a company, but also a chance to get my own back on King and Brain. Tell me, Jack, have you ever heard of an organisation called Torpedo?” To save himself from hearing another lecture, Jack nodded. “King told me about them just a few days ago,” he said. “A sister company or something, weren’t they?” “That’s right and you’re using the correct terminology with the word weren’t there. It was six months ago that Torpedo fell, and with that K.O lost all of its back-up resources. I was still fully part of the company at this time and I can tell you, the effects of their demise hit us hard. The Black Eagles also recognised this and, opportunistically, could sense that K.O was in real jeopardy. If they were going to have a chance of overtaking K.O as the leading black market company, this was it. So they found me, brought me onto their side and now they have easy access to all of King’s supposedly private plans. It’s a winning combination and by the time the second delivery comes to an end in the next few days, you and Brain will be on the losing side. Even now the balance of power is shifting; inch by inch, yard by yard. As for Calvin… well, he doesn’t suspect a thing. The way I managed to convince him that OJ was the traitor was like taking candy from a baby. I barely had to do anything; he just fell straight into it.” “Not anymore,” Jack said. “He’s starting to have second thoughts. He told me the same day he told me about Torpedo.” Travis shrugged. “It matters not. What’s done is done and apart from you, nobody else knows who I really work for, not even Mr Perfect who’s so ostentatious he’s even got a nickname that bigs himself up. And by the time they do find out where my loyalty lies, it will be too late. K.O will have been crushed forever.” “So all this time OJ was innocent?” Jack muttered. He wondered how many more innocent lives Travis’ actions were responsible for taking. “Ah, I’m glad you mentioned that,” Travis grinned. “As I’m sure you can tell, I am most pleased about how that particular trick turned out.” “Get on with it, Ryan,” Nico muttered impatiently. “We don’t want to be out here in the open any longer than we have to.” “Just this one more thing,” Travis replied and turned back to Jack. “After ten years living in his shadow, I knew that Brain would instantly suspect there of being a traitor in the organisation. That’s just how the bastard works. It would have been much more satisfying if he’d just been killed in the ambush – I was tempted to pull the trigger a few times myself, even though we were supposed to be on the same team – but ho hum, you can’t win them all. Therefore, I’d had to plan ahead, knowing that as soon as we were back at the club, King would want to conduct a thorough investigation into the traitor’s identity. And I was right. “I had nothing personal against OJ. Compared to some people in the organisation – not mentioning any names – he was an alright bloke. But fate drove him my way and I’m afraid I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by. If it makes you feel any better, he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. My target could have been any one of the members… even you. “I wasn’t totally lying when I gave my account of the incident to King. It is true that I asked OJ to accompany me on the bike which he accepted and it was also true that he’d been hanging around the clubhouse at the time of the meeting after returning back from a delivery in Kowloon Bay. However, he never eavesdropped on the meeting, he never knew that we were up there discussing the first delivery and, most significantly, he never sent the text message. Those were all things that I just discretely implied and King – who by then was getting even angrier than Gordon Ramsay in his heyday – lapped the fake information up like a cat over a bowl of fresh milk. I made sure that OJ never got a chance to put his own input in and, as you know, King kindly did the rest for me. If he hadn’t, I would have just done it myself.” “But to send the text message, first you would have needed to get hold of OJ’s phone,” Jack frowned. Travis smiled. “That’s why I wanted him on the motorbike with me, you see. Because then I’d be as close to his phone as I could without it seeming suspicious. Even then I had to bide my time, waiting for the right moment to slip it out of his pocket. That moment arrived straight after the Black Eagles started shooting and I purposely tipped the bike over to hide from the bullets. So disorientated was he with the sudden attack, he didn’t notice a thing as I deftly removed it from his possession. While the fight was on-going and OJ was pulled away from me in all the commotion, I simply turned back the clock so that it would seem as if the text had been sent much earlier in the day then typed in the message that King and the others would find later on. I sent it directly to a pay-as-you-go phone belonging to Nico and receiving the text acted as a message in itself: the job was done. If everything had gone according to plan, that would have been that. Most of the K.O members would have ended up dead while all the rest bar me would be captured and taken for questioning. At this moment in time, K.O would no longer exist. However, it didn’t pan out like that and I believe you, Jack, are at least partially responsible for this.” Jack kept quiet; if Travis found out that Jack had saved Brain’s life in the woods that day, he’d probably start going mental. But that did bring up an interesting thought in Jack’s mind; maybe Travis was sort of right about Brain and his egotistic personality. As far as Jack could recall, Calvin King’s second in command had never thanked him for the favour. Not once. “As I say, you can’t win everything,” Travis continued. “But this time it will be different. K.O is weaker while the Black Eagles are stronger. We may have lost men too during the ambush, but unlike King we haven’t fallen into the trap of pinning too much expectation on so few people. We have literally a whole army waiting on standby for the second delivery to begin. K.O might as well start saying their prayers already.” “You arsehole,” Jack muttered through gritted teeth. “And to think I trusted you before today.” “What can I say, I’m a trustworthy guy,” Travis grinned and tapped his temple in mock farewell. “Good to catch up with you again, Jack. The pleasure’s been all mine. I don’t know what Nico and Franz have in store for you, but I doubt I’ll be seeing you again.” Travis stepped forward and rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder, as if he was once again the kind, friendly karate instructor about to offer him some advice on how to master a death kick. “But then again, considering what I’ve got in mind for the other members, maybe that’s a good thing.” He winked. “Tschüss, Jack. It’s been nice knowing you.” “If you discover any more updates on the second delivery, let us know immediately, ja?” Nico called as Travis started to walk back towards the clubhouse. Travis turned round and, still walking backwards, nodded his head. “Of course, Nico. When did I last let you down?” Before Nico could answer, Travis had gone. “So, what to do with this pile of K.O filth?” Franz snarled, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep, rumbling and rough at the edges, reminding Jack of Vin Diesel but with a German accent, while his face was shaped like a pitbull’s: flat, square, large and, above all, ugly. “If you ask me, we dispose of him right here and now. It will save us from having to lug him all the way back to Germany.” “We can’t let him go, that’s for sure,” Nico nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Jack started to fidget and the two guards shook him roughly; he was an idiot to have thought that Nico and Franz wouldn’t have at least some sort of protection around them and that he could just waltz right up to them without any caution at all. The moment of carelessness had cost him and Jack could just imagine Mr Grey shaking his head in disgust. It was an amateurish mistake, not something he expected from an experienced junior agent who had just reached the end of their career. Franz must suddenly have had an idea because his face lit up with excitement; the pitbull could have just found a meaty bone to chew on. “How about the town?” he suggested eagerly. “I know it will mean taking him to our secret base, but come on… a K.O member! It’s an opportunity that’s too good to miss. And it’s not like he’s going to give us any trouble, is it? One puny teenager against all fifty guards inside the facility?” “Town? What town?” Jack demanded, but no one was listening to him. Nico pondered over this idea and the more he thought about it, the more he began to like it; and the more he began to like it, the more he started to smile. “You know what, Franz,” he grinned. “I think that’s an exzellent idea.” He nodded to the two guards and they both proceeded to clobber Jack on the head. It only needed one thump; the tired teenager posed no resistance. Jack’s whole world turned as black as the night sky and he sagged to the floor, sprawled out across the cold tarmac like all the rubbish that surrounded him. “He knows too much,” Nico decided. “The boy can never see the light day of day again.” Franz nodded. “Dead End is the only option.” Signal given, the two guards picked up Jack’s limp body and carried him over to the waiting van. 13Fresh MeatThe prison cell had no windows so Jack couldn’t tell what time of the day it was. His watch had been removed while he’d been unconscious; as had his mobile phone, his wallet and pretty much everything else he’d had on him. Basically, all that he had left were the clothes that he sat in; t-shirt, jeans, boxers, trainers, socks. Oh, and a huge welt on the back of his head from where the guards had clobbered him. Apart from that, nothing else. Not even a sausage. The cell managed to be large without very much in it. Jack sat on the only piece of furnishing – an old metal hospital bed that was chained to the wall to prevent it from being moved – while his captives had had the courtesy of providing a rusting bucket and a roll of cheap toilet paper for when duty called. Apart from that there were a couple of red stains on the floor that could have been blood and a pile of dead insects that had been swept into the corner during the last clean - if it had ever been cleaned that is. The mattress that Jack was expected to sleep on was so filthy it made the London sewers look like a kitchen worktop. What he’d give to be back in his own bedroom in his own home right now, Jack found himself longing. Away from all this crime and danger and deceit. How his dad had made it twenty years before finally hanging up his boots, Jack would never know. The way things were going, Jack’s life expectancy wouldn’t even reach that length! If teacher’s thought their lives were stressful, they should try being an undercover spy, Jack thought. You might have stacks of homework to mark, but at least you were never threatened, shot at or chased by gun-wielding maniacs. Unless you lived in Port Moresby perhaps, Jack conceded. Maybe one of the teachers from Ashbrook High would consider a swap, he thought hopefully. Probably one that spoke German would be best so that they’d be able to understand Nico and Franz when the two Black Eagle leaders eventually appeared again. Either that or one of the PE teachers because whatever the ugly brothers had planned for Jack, he suspected it wasn’t going to be easy. For hours it seemed Jack rambled on like this, occasionally drifting in and out of consciousness when his mind started to wander. All this wishful thinking was doing his head in, but he couldn’t help it. What else were you supposed to do when you were trapped alone in an empty prison cell? Apart from praying that somehow you make it out alive, obviously. He didn’t even have a tennis ball which he could bounce again the wall, like in all the movies. Not for the first time, Jack found himself cursing Mr. Grey’s name. If the Head of MI6 hadn’t practically forced him into accepting the mission in the first place, none of this would have happened. And everyone’s lives might not be at such a great risk. Jack stood up and strolled around the cell. The walls were solid concrete; unbreakable, immovable. From how they were worn and scarred on the surface, Jack got the impression that the foundations had been here for a long time. The door was newer, a slab of thick steel that was bolted in place by several chunky bolts. No way through. There was a metal grate at head height, but the shutter could only be moved from the outside and someone had chosen for it to be shut. The light came from a single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. No wires, no components – any of which might be used as a potential weapon. The base was set into the concrete, only allowing the bulb to stick out into the cell. The filament flickered and for a split second, the room was in almost total darkness – a tiny crack underneath the door the saving grace. When the light did come back on, it looked about as weak as Jack felt. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d first woken from unconsciousness, but eventually there was a sharp rap at the door and the shutter slid open with a clang. A pair of stern blue eyes peered into the cell. “Stand well back from the door,” the person said in accented English and then fed a key into the lock. Jack did as he was told, settling back down on the bed, and the door swung open to allow the German guard inside. He was accompanied by Nico Muller, the organisation leader looking like a cross between Ghost Rider and Billy Idol in his latest punk-style outfit. “Ah, you are awake,” Nico beamed. “That is good. Otherwise Arne here would have had to wake you up in our traditional friendly style.” He laughed and mimed slapping Jack sharply on the cheek. “How was your night, may I ask?” “Brilliant. Top notch. Couldn’t have been better.” “I am pleased to hear it. So you got a lot of rest then? Conserved your strength?” “I’d been knocked unconscious by a pair of thugs and was sporting a lump on my head the size of a grapefruit,” Jack muttered sarcastically. “What do you think?” Nico frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s called sarcasm, you moron. It means no, I did not get a good night’s sleep and no, I did not get a lot of rest. That said, I’m getting more tired of hearing your voice than anything else.” “Oh dear, that is a shame,” Nico said, ignoring Jack’s remarks. It was hard to tell whether he was trying to be genuine or not, such was his lack of understanding of the concept of irony. “I was hoping you’d be fully fit and well ahead of the big exercise later on today.” “What big exercise?” Jack asked instantly. Nico smiled. “All in good time, kind. But first you must eat. I’m sure you must be very hungry after your little excursion two nights ago.” “Two nights ago!” Jack exclaimed. “How long have I been out of it for?” “Well, you didn’t move a muscle throughout the whole plane journey and you were still as dead to the world as K.O will be in a few days’ time when we deposited you here in the cell yesterday afternoon, so in total I’d have to say at least twenty-four hours. That’s why I expected you to be alive and full of energy.” “Yeah, but-” Jack suddenly paused as something else caught his attention. Something more important. “Hang on, what do you mean plane journey?” “You didn’t think we were going to keep you in Hong Kong, did you?” Nico laughed. “Where it gives K.O a chance of finding and tracking you down?” He shook his head. “It appears you are the moron here, I’m afraid.” “Then where am I?” Jack said. But Nico didn’t need to reply for, in that very second, Jack came up with his own answer. “I’m in Germany, aren’t I? Your home country.” Nico nodded. “Berlin to be precise. This building here is the Black Eagle’s secret base and you, kind, currently find yourself located in the resident prison block. If you are interested, please, allow me to show you around. It is not often that I have the pleasure of tour-guiding an outsider.” Even though Jack was sure the experience would numb his brain to death, he figured it might be useful later on to know the layout of the complex if he ever got the chance to escape. In addition, his lethargic legs and stuffy head could probably use the exercise. “Might as well,” Jack said and stood up. After all, what harm could it do? “Lead the way.” Before they left, the guard snapped a pair of handcuffs around Jack’s wrists so that he couldn’t try anything when their backs were turned. He pulled them tight so that the cold metal was digging sharply into Jack’s skin then pocketed the key. Safety precautions complete, they stepped out into the corridor and the cell door closed. As it turned out, outside was just more of the same: bare grey rock stretching in either direction with metal doors positioned at intervals along it. The prison block – that was what Nico had called it. “The building is almost a century old,” Nico explained, catching Jack staring. “Built in the early 1900s in preparation for the First World War, it was used as a training facility for German soldiers before they were shipped out to the Western and Eastern fronts. It was again used in the 1940s when Germany fought the Second World War before being abandoned and allowed to fall into disrepair soon after. The fact that a vast majority of it is made out of solid rock means that it remained relatively structurally sound during that period, but even then there were a few modifications needed to be made when the Black Eagles took control of it at the turn of the century – many of which you will no doubt encounter later on. This area was the prison block, used during the war to house enemy operatives or spies, enemies against the state such as gypsies, homosexuals and Jews, or finally, if they’d doing something really bad such as insult the leadership, to punish German soldiers for indiscipline. A century later, it’s still used for pretty much the same thing. You come in the enemy operative category, but of course you could always be in more…” “Urkomisch,” Jack muttered; German for ‘hilarious’. Nico beamed. “Ah, you speak good German! This is going to be most amusing.” Nico turned left down the corridor and Jack was forced to follow him, the guard bringing up the rear. He noticed fire exit signs pointing in the opposite direction and made a mental note of them in his head. The guard prodded him in the back with a sub machine gun and told him to stop dawdling. Suddenly there was a loud, high-pitched noise from back down the corridor and Jack’s head snapped round. The noise echoed against its stone confinements, only dying when it had passed them and reached a flight of stairs leading up to the next floor. “What was that?” Jack asked. If it was down to him, he would have said it was a scream of some sort. Either that or a desperate, pleading cry for help. But whatever it was, it had sounded human and it stimulated a cold chill to shiver down the back of his spine. “Nothing,” Nico snapped. “It’s none of your business.” He nodded at the guard and Jack found himself being shoved brusquely forward, warning him to start moving again. Reluctantly, he complied. You didn’t get treatment like this on a tour of Buckingham Palace, Jack thought to himself bitterly. The next floor up was a lot more hospitable, at least by Black Eagle standards. The walls were a pasty white; no sign of blood marks or excrement stains anywhere. The stone flooring had been replaced by much more modern plastic tiling while there were even a couple of bright red security notices hanging around to liven the mood. “The business floor,” Nico explained and pointed down the corridor. “Offices on the right for dealing with orders and payment, workshops on the left where most of the stock is sorted and packaged. Inside every workshop is a large lift linking it directly to the distribution warehouse underneath. This is so that we don’t have to lug heavy crates down fifty flights of stairs.” He laughed inexplicably. “You don’t say,” Jack muttered under his breath. “We have a large fleet of five lorries who carry out the deliveries nationwide,” Nico continued. “Plus two apache helicopters to deal with overseas orders. They usually embark every Friday and Monday in the evening – when traffic is at its lightest and the sky is at its darkest. We even do deliveries on bank holidays, you know.” “Wow, someone give this guy a medal,” Jack muttered sarcastically. Unfortunately, Nico took his comment literally and broke out in a proud smile – the sight would haunt Jack for the rest of his life, however short it may be. “Thank you, kind. I do try my best.” “Stop calling me kind all the time,” Jack said irritably. “It’s stupid and I’m not a child.” “Well, you made a childish, foolish mistake by messing with us, kind,” Nico grinned. “So I think the nickname is justified. Now, moving swiftly on...” As they passed the workshops, Jack could glance through the wide windows and examine the Black Eagle employees as they worked. Large open crates not too dissimilar from those used by K.O were piled up on workbenches, workers ferrying back and forth from tall shelves after consulting the sheets on their clipboards. Thanks to the high ceiling that came with most ancient buildings, the shelves could stretch to over five metres. That was taller than a double-decker bus! As a result, when it came to reaching stock located on the very uppermost shelves, it required a sliding step ladder for the workers to retrieve it. This same process carried on right down the corridor – all fifty yards of it – and Jack couldn’t help but be mildly impressed by the scale of the operation they had running here. Certainly, it was enough to give K.O a run for their money. “Bloody hell,” Jack mumbled. “It’s like Santa’s workshop in here, isn’t it?” Nico didn’t approve of the comparison and scowled. “Since when did Saint Nikolaus deliver illegal weaponry?” he mumbled and picked up the pace. At the end of the corridor were two right hand turns; they took the first one and Nico stopped by the first door they came across. “Here we are,” he said and opened the door. Jack was ushered in behind by the guard. Jack didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he’d entered the new room, but whatever it had been it most definitely wasn’t this. The room was small and square, perhaps used as a study, with whitewashed walls and a framed photograph of the Berlin Tower. In the middle of the room was a table; bog-standard from your local branch of IKEA. And in the middle of the table were dishes of food, all laid out neatly on porcelain plates and accompanied by water goblets and fine cutlery. If Jack hadn’t known better, he could have just accidentally stumbled into someone’s dining room. “Ah, lovely,” Nico sighed, licking his lips as he settled down on one of the two available chairs. He offered the other one to Jack. “No thanks, I’m not hungry,” he replied, always wary of being offered food by a stranger whether it was a hard boiled sweet from an old granny on the bus or a three course meal from a German weirdo. But Nico was in control here and he was not to be denied. “Come on, it’s fresh meat,” he said, pointing to a pile of bratwurst sausages and tender hamburgers on the showpiece plate. “Traditional German delicacies.” Jack stayed where he was. “Besides, you must be absolutely starving. You haven’t eaten for what… almost forty-eight hours? Sit down and have a bite to eat. Come on, it’s delicious. The resident cook prepared it especially for your arrival. You wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings, would you? Particularly as your complaints would have to go through me first.” What Nico had said about being hungry was true. In fact, starving was an understatement. Jack’s stomach felt as empty as a bare cupboard and the tantalising, wafting aroma of the cooked food really was inviting. But could Nico be trusted? Was this the first stage of his plan to finish Jack off? The answer to the first was definitive. As for the second… Jack couldn’t be sure. “I promise nothing’s been tampered with,” Nico said, somehow reading his mind. “No rat poison in the salad, cyanide in the tomato ketchup or anything like that. It isn’t really my style, to be honest. Food should be savoured, even in situations like this, and to prove that the selection you see before you is clean, I will join you in dining.” He grabbed a handful of oven-baked chips from a wicker basket and stuffed them into his mouth. “You see? No harm done whatsoever.” It did look awfully appetising… and he was seriously hungry…. Oh sod it, Jack decided and finally sat down in the seat. Consequently, the guard pulled out the key and removed the handcuffs from around his wrists so that he could eat. If he was ever going to escape from this foreign hellhole he was going to need his energy. Nico had mentioned over fifty workers earlier on and they weren’t going to be taken down by themselves. Jack studied the selection carefully then cautiously dropped a few of the tastiest morsels onto his plate. Still not entirely convinced by Nico’s claim that none of it was drugged, he made sure that he only chose items from random places on the pile. “There… that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Nico said as Jack took a tentative nibble out of a slice of cured ham. Jack nodded eagerly, his stomach rumbling like the engine of some great tanker truck. It really was tasty. He forked half a frankfurter and stuffed it in his mouth all in one go; at least with Nico, he wouldn’t be banging on about bad table manners. And he may not have got his phone or wallet back just yet, but at least he had that sausage now: a whole mound of them. “That’s right, help yourself to anything that takes your fancy,” Nico encouraged. “There’s plenty to go round, don’t you worry.” “Why are you trying to be so hospitable all of a sudden?” Jack said suspiciously. “Back in Hong Kong you wanted to kill me.” “Oh, I do want to kill you, kind, make no mistake about that. But everyone deserves a last meal, don’t they? Even mortal enemies. Besides, as I say, you’re going to need the energy for what lies in wait for you. It would be dreadfully disappointing if you were too weak and feeble to give it a proper go.” “Give what a proper go?” Predictably, Nico just tapped the side of his nose and helped himself to a pretzel. So Jack tried a different question: “Where’s Franz?” he asked. “Is he elsewhere or has he just decided not to show his ugly face when you’ve got guests visiting?” “He’s in Hong Kong with Travis and most of our army, preparing to sabotage Calvin King’s second delivery,” Nico replied bluntly. “Now enough talking. You don’t want all the food to go cold.” Despite his hunger, Jack made sure that he didn’t overeat. When it came to exercise, a bloated stomach and a stitch was arguably even worse than no energy at all. He finished off with a few goblets of water to rehydrate and freshen himself – bottled, of course – and then laid his cutlery down on the table. He waited for Nico to finish. “Mmm, that hit the spot,” the Black Eagle leader mumbled and slouched back in his chair. “Wouldn’t you agree, kind?” “I’ve had better,” Jack replied. Nico tutted. “Always so negative.” Shaking his head, he stood up. Jack followed suit and the handcuffs were promptly reattached. “I hope you enjoyed your final taste of food, kind, I really do. I shall now accompany you back to your cell where you can digest in peace and comfort. Savour the flavour. Cherish the taste. You will not be getting anymore.” They returned to the cell, taking the same route as the way they’d come. Thump. Jack was shoved inside. Bang. The door slammed shut. Jangle. The guard locked it securely from the outside. “I will see you again in precisely three hours, kind,” Nico said through the grill. “Then, and only then, will the games truly begin.”*True to his word, Nico arrived exactly three hours later on the dot. That was the annoying thing about Germans, Jack thought; always neat and never ever late for anything. However, even so, he’d had plenty of times to reflect on his troubled thoughts. A game… that was the only clue Nico had given him thus far, but the possibilities of what it could mean were about as wide and open as the Pacific Ocean. Did he mean a game like a board game; chess, monopoly and all those kinds of things? Somehow Jack doubted it. How about a game of sport then; football or motor racing? Germany was renowned for its success in both but looking at Nico, it seemed about as likely as the previous suggestion. And as for musical statues and hide-and-seek… Jack doubted he’d be more surprised if Wayne Rooney became the next Prime Minister of the UK. All told, Jack could safely conclude that he had no idea what to expect from the Black Eagles apart from that it was a ‘game’ and eating lots of cooked meat supposedly helped you. And so, come the moment of Nico’s arrival, Jack’s future was about as hazy as a Scottish mire during winter. Not exactly spiriting. “You have had plenty of time to gather your thoughts,” Nico announced. “Let’s not waste any longer.” They returned to the same room as before but this time there was no food. Instead, the table had been pushed to one side out of the way leaving the two chairs in the middle. “Sit,” Nico ordered, “Although I wouldn’t make yourself too comfortable – we’re not going to be here for very long.” Jack sat down, the guard watching him carefully. Now that he took a second glance at the table, he realised that there was something on it. Unfortunately, it was hidden underneath a large cloth so that Jack couldn’t see. The first object that Nico pulled out from beneath it was a power drill. At least, it looked like a power drill. Jack suddenly had awful images of nails being drilled into his skull and he almost toppled out of his chair with fright; he could scarcely imagine a worse way to go. But as Nico neared, he realised that it wasn’t a drill. Firstly, there was no drill bit which meant nothing could impregnate his head. And secondly, the barrel was too stubby with no spinning mechanism, instead replaced by a black tube that looked like the end of a piece of lipstick. “Sebastian, hold the subject down for me,” Nico ordered. The guard nodded and positioned himself behind the chair so that he could keep both of Jack’s shoulders firmly planted to the seat. Jack frowned curiously, wondering what was going to happen. “Now this won’t hurt a bit,” Nico said, holding up the gadget like you would a pistol, “It will hurt excruciatingly. I will make no bones about it. But all I can say is, if you scream at this, you don’t stand a chance at what is coming next.” The guard gripped Jack’s arm tightly and pressed it hard against his thigh so that it couldn’t move. Then Nico placed the barrel of the gadget on the point just below Jack’s wrist and squeezed the trigger. It wasn’t so much a bang as a timid pop, but even so something shot out of the end of the gadget faster than Jack could blink. It penetrated his skin and sank in deep, tearing straight through like a bullet through paper before finally embedding itself somewhere in his flesh. “Ow,” Jack muttered through gritted teeth, trying to make it sound sarcastic. But even if he’d succeeded, Nico wouldn’t have understood it. He whipped out a tissue and handed it to Jack, but he needn’t have bothered. The wound was as neat and clean as the Ritz Hotel. “Dab it if it starts bleeding,” he said and placed the gun onto the table. Jack gave the wound a tentative poke and cringed as his nerves seized up with pain. “What is that?” he asked, peering into the wound and catching a glimpse of silver deep inside. “A tracking device,” Nico replied. “Used for tracking.” “Oh wow, I’d never have guessed.” “If you’ll let me finish… This one’s specifically for human use only. About the size of a garden pea it embeds perfectly in human flesh. It also means that we will be able to know exactly where you are every second of the day so that if you do try to escape somehow or enter an area that is out of bounds, we’ll know about it instantly. And can thus take appropriate action.” He tapped the side of his waist and this time it was a real gun that he was indicating to. “Right, I’ll bear that in mind.” The guard, seemingly knowing what was going to happen next either by magic or experience, let go of Jack’s shoulders and Nico gestured for him to rise. “Formalities over with, let’s get down to the real business.” He shepherded Jack out of the room and for the first time since Jack had been here, they ventured into the second corridor. As soon as he saw the sight that greeted his eyes, Jack immediately wished they hadn’t. They were standing on some sort of balcony with the usual hand rail having been replaced by a thick floor-to-ceiling glass viewing window. Nothing wrong with that. However - unlike a balcony in your holiday hotel room, for example - this one stretched out to form a large rectangle, the corridor disappearing off one side and sweeping fully round three hundred and sixty degrees to link back up again from the opposite direction. Indeed, if Jack stared straight ahead of him, he could see the other side of the balcony almost two hundred metres away. But this wasn’t the problem. This wasn’t what prompted Jack to tremble… and Nico to smirk. Looking across and up was absolutely fine. It was when you looked down that you started to get an idea of what the Black Eagles were conjuring. Jack was looking at a life-sized model of a German village which, if you thought about it, didn’t make it a model at all. Three hundred metres wide and two hundred metres across, it was by far larger than many pokey English countryside hamlets that Jack had come across before. It had all the key features of a legitimate village: houses, a church, roads and shops. It even had a children’s playground unless Jack’s eyes were very much mistaken. But at the same time, there was definitely something eerily sinister about it. And Jack quickly realised why. There were no people. The few cars were motionless, abandoned in their positions as if they’d run out of petrol. The insides of the buildings were dark and unmoving, as if the occupants had moved out decades ago. And it wasn’t just the lack of life that was disturbing. There was no wind and no noise, the whole village as disconcertingly silent as an American ghost town. Jack could have been looking at an old photograph, not a real life image directly in front of him. It was as if the whole place was holding its breath. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to trigger it off. “Welcome, kind… to Dead End.” Nico spoke surprisingly calmly despite the evident excitement on his face; he was beaming like a child on Christmas day, staring down at the indoor village as if he was admiring his new present. “Originally built soon after the facility was first constructed at the start of the last century, for all these years afterwards Dead End has only served one purpose: to train soldiers. In the early nineteen hundreds it was the Germans and the Nazis, in preparation for their battle against the Allied Forces. And now it is the Black Eagle army, in preparation for their successful conquering of the illegal trade market and K.O. As a training arena, what can be more ideal than an authentic urban village? Often this is the exact location that you will find yourself fighting in and so the more authentic the training is, the better prepared you will be for the real life situation. “Back in the day, the targets always used to be cardboard cut-outs or dummies – you know, the burlap sacks with wonky heads that look about as convincing as a false moustache. True they were both cheap, replaceable and sustainable solutions, but if you ask me they were just a bit too… static. In a real battle enemies are going to run out at you from the darkness and sudden corners and it’s all about how quickly you can react that determines whether you survive or not. So what is the point of stationary targets that will never test you in this field? Surely, there is no point? “And that is why, since the Black Eagles took over this facility, we have been trying a different tactic. One that satisfies my ideas and ambitions perfectly. We use a live target; one that runs about, attempts to cause trouble and gives our soldiers a thoroughly good examination of their ability. That’s what tests should be like. They should be constantly on the edge. And I’m not talking about a rapid dog or a rat in case you’re wondering. I’m talking about humans.” Nico turned and stared directly at Jack. “Or in this case, to be more specific… you.” He caught sight of Jack’s terrified face and laughed mercilessly. “Don’t worry, kind,” he said. “We don’t just pick up random civilians off the street and force them to take part in our little training exercise. No, we’re not that cruel. All our targets are specific enemies; people that have done something to upset or annoy us in any size, shape or form. If you would like to know why you fit into this category it is because you conspire with our great rival – a dreadful sin - and, as I understand it, are at least partly responsible for many of the deaths of our soldiers during the first ambush. Have no doubt in your mind, kind, that I would very much like to see the favour returned to you shortly. Revenge. Payback. For me, there are very few things sweeter in the world.” “Not even black forest gateau?” Jack mocked half-heartedly. “Tempting, but no, not even that. In the three hours since I last saw you, my soldiers have been getting ready. As always there will be a dozen of them, all of a general equal ability and all with the same protection and weaponry. The weaponry in question are either Heckler and Koch MG4 machine guns or Heckler and Koch PSG-1 sniper rifles – both of which can be readily purchased from our organisation. The foot soldiers will be carrying the MG4s and will be constantly patrolling around the village, looking out for your position, while the snipers will be positioned out of sight, ready to pick you off as soon as you make a fatal move. Their order is to kill on sight. That means no second chances. Think about this information carefully, kind, because I’m only saying it for your benefit. If you go in there thinking it will be a walk in the park, you won’t last a second. And that would be… anti-climactic.” “Do I get any weaponry?” Jack asked, fearing the worst. But to his surprise, Nico nodded eagerly. “Of course, of course. We’ve got to give you a sporting chance, haven’t we?” From his back pocket he pulled out a handgun and at first Jack thought it might be an M9 or a German-made HK 45. Maybe he would have a chance after all, he thought hopefully. But then Nico placed it in Jack’s open hand and he instantly knew something was wrong. For starters, it barely weighed more than an apple – definitely not a real handgun which were often twice as heavy, if not more. And then there was the texture. It wasn’t made of steel. It wasn’t even made of aluminium. It was plastic. Cheap plastic. The kind that all children’s toys are made from. It was a BB gun. “What kind of sick joke is this?” Jack muttered in disgust and shoved the BB gun angrily into his pocket. Nico struggled to contain his delight. “Well, it’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, is it not?” “I’ll tell you who can get a poke in the eye with a sharp stick,” Jack muttered back, his nostrils flaring. “There’s exactly a hundred and twenty pellets in there,” Nico informed, nodding down at the BB gun. “Ten for each soldier. Use them wisely, kind, because it’s the only help that you’re going to get.” Nico glanced at his Breitling watch and promptly clapped his hands together. “Five minutes till the game begins,” he announced. “Let’s quickly go through the rules.” He turned back to Jack and spoke seriously. “Once you’re in there, kind, there is no getting out. Over the years, hundreds of sacrificial lambs have contested the exercise and none have ever escaped. You might as well get it into your skull now, because this is the truth: you’re not going to come out of it alive. One way or another, however long it takes, the arena will be you deathbed. So you might as well play the game, fight like a man and try and go out with some dignity. “The aim of the exercise from your point of view is simply to stay alive for as long as possible. The current record is…” Nico glanced at Sebastian for help. “One hour, twenty-nine minutes and three seconds precisely,” the guard answered. “Achieved by a Bavarian man in his twenties who threatened to reveal us to the Polizei if we did not comply to his ransom.” “Oh yes, I remember now,” Nico nodded. “2008, wasn’t it? He achieved that impressive time by hiding underneath a staircase, like a coward. The hole has since been blocked up to prevent it from happening again, but even so, I hope that you do not attempt to follow the same method, kind. What sort of test would that be to our soldiers, hmm?” “A pretty boring one, I imagine.” “Exactly. If you want my advice, keep on the move and never stay in one place otherwise you’re more likely to be found. Therefore, not only will it give the soldiers a harder challenge, but it will also give you a few precious extra minutes of life of which to savour. Beat the record, kind, and who knows? Maybe we’ll even give your body a proper burial. “Now, I must warn you, it’s not just the soldiers that you will have to avoid in order to keep the timer ticking. All around the arena, hidden in secret places, are booby traps designed to finish you off if you so foolishly wander into their midst. I cannot tell you what or where they are, but what I can say for certain is that they make death’s arrival a lot more painful. Therefore, probably best to avoid them at all cost.” Jack stared down into Dead End, his hands and forehead clammy with sweat. He couldn’t remember ever being so scared. It was as if his whole body was teetering on a knife edge, sharp rocks waiting at the bottom for him to fall. Nico was right: however long it took and whatever Jack tried to do down there, the outcome was always going to be the same: Jack was going to die. “I can see why you made me build up my energy,” he managed to mumble. Nico nodded. “Fresh meat,” he replied and smiled. “Now it’s your turn.” A few metres further down the balcony was a small doorway inbuilt into the glass. And on the other side, seemingly hovering in mid-air with nothing to support it, was an old-fashioned red telephone box. If Jack hadn’t been facing imminent certain death, he might’ve laughed. Sebastian opened the door and Jack found that you could step right inside the telephone box. Suspended high up in the air with the ground below it, it was almost as if it was a space capsule from a different time period. “Please, do jump aboard,” Nico said. “Your carriage awaits. As does your death.” The telephone box was a lift, but it only became apparent after you’d stepped inside and spotted the thick cables snaking up the wall of the arena, as thick as a man’s arm. Jack wondered if he might be able to dial 112 on the inbuilt telephone, but somehow he doubted it. “I’m afraid this is where I leave you, kind,” Nico said, blocking the doorway to prevent Jack from getting back out. “And so all I can say now is good luck and give it your best shot. I will of course be watching from up here on the balcony, perhaps with a nice mug of Augustiner Br?u and some fresh bread rolls. And when the game is over I shall contact Franz over in Hong Kong and see how the second delivery is progressing. Oh sorry, didn’t I tell you? Calvin King revealed to our insider this morning that the delivery is due to take place tomorrow and that he’s planning to…” Nico leaned close to Jack’s ear and whispered the details inside of it, as if they were best friends sharing a dark secret that they wanted no one else to hear about. Nico took a step back. “You see, I always said we would find out sooner rather than later what King was thinking. All it takes is a bit of patience and a bit of perseverance. We are, of course, already prepared for the final attack. The last arrangements will be being undertaken even as I speak, no doubt. King will be confident this time round that nothing can go wrong, what with the removal of the supposed traitor. But that is where he’ll make his biggest mistake. With the element of surprise on our side once more, we’re going to blow K.O straight out of the water.” Nico chuckled and smiled to himself. “And then the black market will be ours for the taking.” “Seeing as I’m going to die in the next few hours,” Jack said. “Can I ask you just one last thing?” “If you wish,” Nico nodded. “It can do no harm against us now.” “Are you really going to let Travis just walk into the organisation and become one of the leaders, just like that? I know he’s the only reason why you’re in this situation now, but even so, I have the impression that you’re hiding something from him. You haven’t shown me the full picture.” Nico folded his arms and his face cracked into a smile. “A clever one this one, isn’t he?” he grinned, exchanging a knowing look with Sebastian. “Maybe he isn’t just a kind after all. Yes, Jack Bennett, I haven’t told him the whole truth. And there’s a very good reason for that which I’m sure you’ll be able to guess.” “You’re double-crossing him,” Jack answered. “You were never planning to give him power over the Black Eagles in the first place.” “Of course we weren’t!” Nico exclaimed. “I mean, how thick can the guy get? He’s a Brit and traditionally they have always been the Germans fiercest foes. This instance is no different. We were never going to stick to our promise with him. Not for one moment. We only wanted to use him, to make sure that we got our way and the only way to do that was to promise him the one thing that he craved more than anything else. We even went to the trouble of making it sound plausible and that we were already thinking ahead to how it would all work out – I was the one that suggested the three gives a majority thing in the first place. Ryan Travis thinks he’s the clever one here by deceiving King, but really he’s not. He’s just another one of the victims. Like Calvin King. Like you. “The Black Eagles are the clever ones. We’re the ones that are going to benefit most when this battle for supremacy finally comes to an end.” “And what of Travis?” Jack asked finally. “Are you going to drop him into Dead End as well?” “Now that is a gut idea,” Nico smirked, stroking his chin. “It can be a direct duel between K.O members: you vs. Ryan. Who will win? No offence, but personally I’ve got my money on Ryan. He’s bigger, stronger and doesn’t insult me nearly as much as you do. However, if ever there’s a chance to prove someone wrong, this is it.” Nico took a step back and Sebastian reached out to close the door. “Rest assured, I’ll be watching your progress with interest.” He nodded down at Jack’s arm and Jack knew he was talking about the microchip. “And just remember, you’re not the first person to die this way. And you definitely won’t be the last.” The door closed and Jack was sealed off from the Black Eagle leader. Confined in a tiny space once more, Jack could hear his rasping breath as it bounced off the inside of the telephone box. His heart was also abnormally loud, pounding like footsteps. The next moment the cables whirred into life and the customised lift started to descend down into the arena. Jack remembered a scene from Jurassic Park where a helpless cow was being lowered into a high-voltage cage for the savage, hungry Velociraptors to tear at. He remembered wincing at the scene when he was a child, huddling on the sofa with a cushion clutched tightly in his arms, reflecting on how unfair and barbaric the situation was in favour of the cow. Funnily enough, that’s exactly how he felt now. The twelve people inside this arena wanted to kill him at all costs and, really, there was nothing he could do about it. Lamb to the slaughter. Fresh meat. Call it what you want. As Nico said, the outcome was the same. The telephone box came to a juddering halt just above the ground and there was a crackle as someone initiated the inbuilt speaker system. “When the doors open, the timer will start and you will have thirty seconds to get as far away from the telephone box as possible,” Nico said. “When that safety period elapses, the soldiers will start coming after you. At the moment, they know exactly where you are so I suggest that you don’t hang around for too long. Then again, nowhere is really that safe… is it?” The speaker system died and at the same time the telephone box settled down on the ground. Jack stared out through the glass window panes; taking in the scene, plotting his first move. But in the end he didn’t have the chance. The doors suddenly flipped open with a clang and warm air rushed into the telephone box, tinged with the stale, unmistakable stench of imminent danger. Like a ticking time bomb, the clock started. Jack drew a final breath and raced out into the open. The game had begun. 14Man Or Mouse?Jack figured the best thing he could do was get straight into cover and so made for a block of houses directly to his right. As he shoved open the front door, he quickly glanced up and spotted Nico on the balcony. He’d positioned himself directly in the middle of the corridor, where he would have the best view of all the events as they unfurled around him. He noticed Jack stare at him but did nothing; made no movement that would suggest anything was wrong. It was only later that Jack realised this was so as not to give the game away. If one of the soldiers caught Nico constantly staring at a specific point in the arena, it was sure to raise some eyebrows. The guard, Sebastian, wasn’t there which meant, for now, Nico was watching alone. Maybe he’d gone to get that bottle of Augustiner Br?u, Jack thought. He was surprised to find that, no matter how sparsely, the Black Eagles had made an attempt to furnish the insides of the buildings. From the threshold where he closed the door quietly shut behind him, Jack emerged into a kitchen complete with a wooden table, a couple of chairs and some pots and pans on a shelf. Jack hurried up a staircase to the second floor, cut into a bedroom and scurried over to the window, keeping low in case anyone happened to be looking this way. The one modification that you wouldn’t expect to see in most normal villages was that all the glass panes had been removed from the windows, leaving an open space through which to see out of. Or to shoot in through. Jack understood the decision – it would take time and money to clear and repair up each window after it had been smashed – but it did make him feel slightly more vulnerable. Well, more vulnerable than you can get when you’re in a sealed arena surrounded by twelve blokes armed with machine guns who all want to kill you. Jack went back down the stairs and was slipping out of the back door into a narrow garden when the alarm sounded. It was short, sharp and very, very loud, echoing round the enclosed space like a voice in a cave. Jack knew instantly that his thirty seconds were now up which meant that the soldiers would be after him, perhaps closing in on his position even as he stood there. Jack quickly moved on. Plan A: scope the area. That was his best bet if he wanted to get a better idea of what exactly he was up against. He climbed up a three storey building and crouched by the window on the top floor. Here he had a decent view of the surrounding area. It became apparent quite quickly that the centre of the village was the most congested area, houses and mini skyscrapers all cramped together not too unlike Hong Kong. There was sure to be plenty of hiding places so that was the best place to go if Jack wanted to remain of sight, but it also meant that most of the enemy soldiers were probably somewhere inside as well. A difficult choice. A large ring-road surrounded the nucleated settlement with small, narrow alleys branching off of it. The tallest and the biggest buildings – the church and the town hall – were at the opposite end of the village, just about visible over the skyline from the other houses. Jack realised that if someone managed to get to the top of the church spire it would be the perfect sniping point. Probably best to keep an eye on it, Jack decided. You wouldn’t miss a thing from up there. There was a roof to the whole arena which at least explained why the air was so stale and warm. Instead of open sky, a transparent plastic dome had been fitted up above the village, not too dissimilar to the dome on a mosque or St Paul’s Cathedral, Jack reflected. The only differences apart from the material was that this dome was a lot shallower in height – almost flat but still curved enough to allow rainwater to spill over the sides – while it was structurally supported by giant steel beams that crisscrossed the space above like cobwebs or the lines on a chess board. To match the colour of the sky, they’d been painted a dull, sullen grey. It also matched the mood. The playground was definitely a no-go zone, as was the village green just beside the church. Setting up camp in either of those two spots would be like sending up a flare and shouting into a microphone for all the cover it would give you. So where then? Jack’s trail of thought was interrupted as movement down below suddenly caught his eye. He ducked down instinctively and it was just in time as well for, at that moment, a patrolling guard stepped round the corner and passed along the pavement underneath the windowsill. Jack waited until he’d crossed the road and was heading back up towards the village centre and the town hall before reappearing and watching him go. The guard was clad in a Kevlar helmet with a thick bulletproof vest pulled over the same olive green overalls that the other Black Eagle soldiers had worn during the first ambush. Exactly why Nico had seen the need for so much extra protection, Jack had no idea. What threat could he pose with just a useless BB gun in his armoury? Nothing, that was what. Bloody nothing. But despite that, Nico was clearly taking no chances when it came to Jack. He’d already led to the death of some of his men before. He was determined not to let it happen again. As soon as the guard was out of sight, diverting off into the main housing estate, Jack cast his eyes one last time over the arena and crept back down the stairs. Plan B: get out of sight. Jack was always going to feel uneasy and exposed when he knew that Nico was watching him directly from the viewing balcony and even though he’d promised not to give away any clues to the soldiers about his exact whereabouts, Jack would sooner put his head in a lion’s mouth than trust the slimy German to hold a promise. That left only one real option then because the location with the most cover was a no-brainer. About thirty seconds later, Jack was crouching by the side of the house, staring across the road towards the large cluster of houses. It was when he was out in the open that he would be at his most vulnerable and if anyone saw him, they were sure to start shooting or raise the alarm. Therefore, he was not only going to have to be quick, but he was going to have be smart and careful; choose the shortest route across the road so that he had less distance to run and pick a moment when no one was about and no one would be looking. There was a car parked directly across from him, an old silver Audi, positioned parallel to the row of houses and with its left wheels mounting the curve. Just beyond its rear end, Jack spotted a narrow alleyway leading into the housing estate. It looked empty, secluded and, best of all, the car would provide useful cover for when he made his mad dash across the road. It was perfect. He swept the village with his eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Once again, nothing stirred. The arena was so still and so quiet, he could have been the only one in here. But he knew that was impossible. It was just what the enemy wanted him to think. Now! If anyone had been looking in his direction, Jack hoped that the suddenness of his movement would catch them off guard. He leapt to his feet like an Olympic sprinter and dashed across the open road, not bothering with zigzags or any of that crap. Just hell for leather he charged straight back into the welcome safety of the buildings, only for the rear headlights on the back of the Audi to flash bright red as he raced past. Red. Red for danger. Before Jack could piece together what was happening, thick smoke started to billow out from the rear exhaust, blasting Jack in the face and sending him stumbling back into the alleyway. He smacked against the brick wall and sagged to his knees, spluttering like a first-time smoker. The smoke seemed to clog in his throat like a lump of food, making him retch. He tried to cover his nose and mouth to prevent the smoke getting in, but it just passed straight through the gaps. One of Nico’s booby traps. It had to be. To make matter worse, the knock to the head had definitely done more than just leave a lump and for a few moments Jack eyes started to swim. He felt nauseous, his head spinning, and he would have certainly fallen over if the wall hadn’t been there to support him. The aggravating smoke didn’t help either. No, no, no, Jack thought angrily, gritting his teeth. Not this! Not now! How stupid would it be if the soldiers eventually found him because he was lying on the floor having passed out from sprinting twenty metres? So much for giving them a run for their money. Come on, Jack, concentrate. Deep breaths. Lower your heart rate. Clear your head. You might be across, but you’re far from out of the woods yet. Slowly his senses came back to him and he managed to stumble into the nearest house, leaning against the wall for support and then collapsing into a chair in the kitchen. It took a further few seconds for his mind to return back to normal, Jack using that time to listen out for any signs of close movement. If he’d been spotted as he’d crossed the road, the soldiers would surely be onto him already. The sound of pounding feet would reach him at any moment. But apart from Jack’s heavy breathing, everything was quiet. He might’ve just got away with it. Take your time, Jack. Don’t rush anything. A relapse is the worst thing that can happen to you now. But then he remembered the smoke, now nothing but a fine autumn mist in the air. In the aftermath of the trap activating, the smoke would have been at his thickest and as it ballooned up in the air it would have been the equivalent of sending up a distress beacon. Except the people that saw it weren’t going to come and help him. Quite the opposite in fact. Jack quickly eased himself back onto his feet and started moving. No time to allow his body to completely recover; it would be in a much worse state if he allowed the enemy to find him. After the wave of nausea, he’d been about to say no more sudden, strenuous exercise unless it was absolutely vital. However, recent events had rather ruined that plan. And considering he was outnumbered twelve people to one and the only solution he had was to run away from them, it didn’t bode well for the future either. Don’t think about it. Just get on with your job. Hesitation and fear is what’s going to kill you quicker than anything else. Actions speak louder than words. That was another useful saying that suited the situation perfectly. Jack stopped thinking and started to run instead. If he took the town hall and the church as being North, the only soldier Jack had seen to date had entered the housing estate from the East side. Therefore, Jack decided to avoid that area at all costs. He stuck to the rows of houses on the outskirts of the estate where he had better visibility and options to go either way. If a soldier approached from either direction, he’d at least have a chance of getting away by either venturing further into the estate or emerging back out onto the road. Another thing he came to realise was that the insides of the houses weren’t as normal as he’d first imagined. In some instances, doorways had been built in the walls so that one building connected with another, allowing easy passage through it. It also meant that most of the time Jack didn’t need to venture outside which he was glad of, because outside in the open could only mean one thing: danger. And speaking of danger… Jack had just passed into a building designed to appear like a grocery store – all manner of vegetables and fruit had been painted onto the back wall while there was also a curved counter which could provide a useful hiding place should he ever need it – when the wooden floorboards suddenly creaked from above him. Jack froze in an instant and quickly started to back off, worried that one of the guards would appear on the staircase at any moment. If they did, he would be as good as dead. He retraced his steps into the neighbouring building – supposedly a newsagents – and ducked behind a magazine rack where he would have a good view of the staircase should anyone appear. He gave it a whole thirty seconds but no one appeared and Jack decided that the guard must have just been pacing about or shifting their weight onto the other foot. He hadn’t heard Jack coming in underneath him which was a blessed relief. But it left a big dilemma – what to do about the guard now that Jack knew he was there and while he still had the element of surprise. The easy option was to just turn and flee; stay out of trouble and give the soldier no extra reason to attack him. For almost a full second, Jack was tempted to just do that. After all, engaging with the enemy wasn’t likely to do much good to his life expectancy, was it? But as he turned and headed for the exit he started to have second thoughts, the main one being: what was the point of running away? It was true – if he kept on fleeing every time he spotted a soldier, what would that achieve? The answer was nothing. Zilch. Zippo. Nil. Eventually his luck would run out, the soldiers would pounce on him and he’d be as dead as a dodo. It was a game of cat and mouse and, in an endurance race, the larger mammal was always going to win. The truth was Jack didn’t care about the game. He didn’t care whether he set a new record for longest survivor or not. Nico would be disappointed, but sod him. Sod the lot of them. He could go and jump under a train for all Jack cared. It was a sick side dish to an already sick main course and Jack refused to play his way. To do so would be caving in to their power; something that Jack was determined not to do right up to his final breath. He’d never given anyone the satisfaction of beating him, even when he was down, and he wasn’t about to start now. Besides, what would Nico be able to do about it? Make his death even more painful? He was already on the highway to hell. Man or mouse? Which was it to be...? What Jack did care about was at least giving the Black Eagles something to remember him by; going out with a bang rather than limping timidly and feebly across the finishing line. Where was the pride or bravery in that? In that sense, Nico had been right. It was better to go out fighting than to go out a coward, even if it meant sacrificing an extra thirty minutes. But an extra thirty minutes of what exactly? It wasn’t life that was for sure. A life isn’t being chased witless around an enclosed arena by a dozen men armed with machine guns. That was torture. That was pain. An extra thirty minutes of getting a taster of what hell was really like. So you might as well stick two fingers up at it and take the fight to them. That was what Jack was going to do. Now he was sure of it. Nothing had ever been clearer in his mind. Even if he could successfully attack just one soldier, at least he might be able to put the bastard out of action for a few weeks. If things went well, who knew? Maybe he could take out three and four. He bet that would make Nico spit into his beer. Cause some mischief. Give them a proper examination of their ability. That was the way he needed to go. And even if he failed, so what? It was better than being constantly hunted by the soldiers that was for sure, as if they were poachers and he was the helpless specimen that they wanted to bring down. Yeah, better any day of the week. In fact he’d rather kiss the Tottenham Hotspur badge than fail to give the Black Eagle soldiers something to think about, and as a devoted Arsenal fan since the day he’d been born, that was saying something. All of which culminated in the biggest question of all: how the hell was he supposed to take down the soldier? It wasn’t just that Jack was totally unarmed but, as he’d seen from the previous guy, the soldier was heavily armoured and carried a machine gun. It wasn’t so much mouse against cat, but mouse against lion. That said, wasn’t there some fairy-tale about how a mouse had beaten a lion because of its size, intellect and nimbleness? Aesop’s Fables – that was the one. Well, Jack was just going to have to hope that lightning struck the same place twice because he couldn’t postpone the attack any longer. The soldier could make a move at any moment and if he started coming down the stairs that would be Jack’s chance gone. He tiptoed back into the grocery store, making sure he didn’t make the same mistake as the soldier and creaking a floorboard, and settled down behind the counter to formulate a plan. But he wouldn’t have long. Every second he waited would count against him. Firstly, Jack tried to look at what advantages he had over the soldier, anything at all which he could use to his benefit. The list was very slim. Apart from the element of surprise and perhaps mildly better at hand-to-hand combat, everything else was in the enemy’s favour. So could he try sneaking up on the soldier and launching an attack before the guy knew what was happening? A single karate chop to the neck should be a sufficient enough blow to knock him out cold first time. It was a possibility, Jack decided, trying to consider his options in a formulated and structured way. Definitely a possibility. But what else was there? Maybe there was a better option that he hadn’t come across yet. Difficult situations called for a cool head and that was how Jack tried to act as he stood up and looked around the room. His eyes were drawn to a stool propped up in the far corner, a thin layer of dust covering its surface. Perhaps he could use it as a weapon to strike the soldier with; it would be better than nothing and he’d feel more confident with a proper weapon in his hand. Well, a weapon that was better than a useless BB gun anyway. As long as he didn’t slip up once he’d reached the top of the stairs by missing his swing, it could be a possibility. Hmm… Slip up… Jack didn’t know quite how it happened, but it was in that moment that a ridiculous idea started to form in his head. He thought it through thrice over and, despite everything, a sly grin cracked over his face (he didn’t think he’d ever have the positivity to do that again). The idea was preposterous and stupid, not to mention calling upon a whole chunk of fortune and improvisation. But Jack’s motto all along had been fortune favours the brave. It could just work. Jack pulled out the BB gun that was still tucked away in his trouser pocket and held it up in his hands. Perhaps it could be of some us after all. Jack carried the BB gun into the neighbouring building and crouched down behind the doorway, out of sight should anyone happen to look his way. He then flicked the switch on the side of the BB gun to release the ammunition and caught the magazine in his other hand as it dropped out from the bottom of the grip. A hundred and twenty bullets, ten for each soldier – that was what Nico had said. Jack just hoped it was going to be enough. Without further ado, he pulled open the lid of the magazine and proceeded to tip the contents out onto the floor. The yellow plastic pellets spilled out onto the floor like a cascade of hailstones, bouncing up and down and scattering out in all directions. Those that went too far astray Jack pushed back into the middle and soon he had all a hundred and twenty little balls gathered in a rough circle in front of him. Jack spread them out a bit more so that they covered an area roughly one metre in diameter and then stood up. He measured the circle against the size of his foot and nodded. It would have to do. He couldn’t risk spreading the pellets out more, otherwise they might not do their job at all. Jack crossed his fingers that the plan would work and crept back into the grocery store, careful not to step on any of the pellets as he did so. The trap was set. Now for the next stage of the plan. Gripping the empty BB gun tightly in his hand, Jack tiptoed over to the staircase and slowly started to climb. He winced every time there was even the slightest creak as his feet pressed against the wooden slats and he would hold his breath, expecting the soldier to appear above him at any instance. He was all too aware that one foot in the wrong place and it would essentially be game over. If the soldier knew he was coming and got too close to him, the plan wouldn’t work. Jack was banking on him having a small head start, just as he’d done at the start of the exercise. If he didn’t… well, Jack didn’t want to think about it. Every creak sounded like a clap of thunder in Jack’s ears, but miraculously he made it to the top without a single mishap. His head slowly bobbed above the handrail on the landing and he got his first glimpse of his soon-to-be target. Six foot five, as chunky as an extra-large Kit Kat, the guy was a brute if ever he saw one. This was good news. Very good news in fact. A fit, agile, sprightly soldier was what Jack had feared most as not only would they be quicker, but they would also have a lower centre of gravity. That was the key attribute, the one on which Jack’s whole plan hinged upon. The soldier was facing the window, his heavy machine gun swallowed up comfortably in his massive arms. But not for long. With the soldier looking the wrong way, Jack knew that he wouldn’t get a better opportunity. He hurled the empty BB gun at the soldier’s back and, even before the projectile had hit, he’d turned and was already sprinting back down the stairs. For a man as huge as the Black Eagle soldier, the plastic gun hitting him in the back was like trying to cut down an oak tree with a table knife. However, the soldier still felt it, and it had the desired effect as the man spun round and stared at the spot from where it had been thrown. Even though he could no longer see Jack, he heard the sound of footsteps charging down the staircase and knew instantly who it was. The soldier made a split decision. He could have contacted the others via the radio and told them he’d sighted the target, but that would have taken time. Time that he didn’t have. By the time he’d finished speaking, the target would be long gone and then they’d have to start from scratch all over again. No… act now, speak later. This was his chance. A chance to be the hero. A chance to be the one that killed the target. This was the right way to do it. Without further hesitation, the soldier lumbered forward with all the poise and subtleness of a charging bull and careered onto the staircase. The target wasn’t as far ahead as he’d feared and he could see the boy now, racing into the next building, running for his life. Too little, too late, the soldier thought with a killer smile. The floor trembled as he launched himself onto solid ground, at the same time bringing the machine gun up to his shoulder. He couldn’t get a clear shot away at the moment, but it would only be a matter of time. A fired bullet could move at speeds in excess of one thousand metres per second, particularly one with as much firepower behind it as the MG4. The target could have been Usain Bolt when it came to running and he still wouldn’t have a chance. About ten metres ahead, the target swerved out of the line of sight and disappeared behind the wall of one of the rooms. The soldier was about to curse when he realised the mistake that the target had made; the room was a dead end. No way out. The silly boy had got himself cornered. And the soldier was not about to show any mercy. Grinning with delicious anticipation, the soldier thundered round the corner into the room, raised his gun ready to shoot and… …found that his legs were no longer touching the floor. Yellow pellets were strewn everywhere as the soldier’s feet passed straight over them, losing their grip in an instant and flying out from underneath his body. The look of surprise on the man’s face was almost comical as his body weight sent him tipping backwards, head over heels. The machine gun flew up into the air, crashing against the ceiling with a deafening crunch before sailing back down to earth where Jack was there to catch it. Meanwhile, with a noise that sounded like a herd of elephants trampling through a wood, the soldier landed smack on his arse on the floor and rolled over in agony. Bulletproof vests might protect your vital organs, but they did nothing to cover the really sensitive parts. It took a split second for the soldier to realise he’d been tricked and to open his mouth, ready to scream for help. But Jack had been expecting this and was already in position, stuffing one of his dirty socks into the man’s gaping trap before he could even utter a syllable. Talk about rubbing salt into the wounds. The soldier’s eyes watered up as his tongue tasted three-day-old sweat and dirt. He thrashed about on the floor, trying to get at the gag or Jack or both. Anything. But not for the first time his enormous size was against him and he could barely move his limbs, confined to the narrow gap between the wall and a turned-over table. Jack decided to put him out of his misery before he caused any trouble and knocked the soldier out with a sharp blow to the temple. The man stopped struggling and his body went limp. Jack knew he didn’t have much time. Seconds at most. The sound of the attack was sure to draw the other soldiers nearer, like a pack of sharks being drawn to its prey by the scent of fresh blood. But he couldn’t abandon the body. Not when it was equipped with such useful, vital tools. Jack quickly set to work, kneeling down beside the unconscious soldier and tearing off his helmet. He then unstrapped the bulletproof vest and pulled it over the guy’s head, laying it down beside the helmet and the MG4. Now, what else might come in handy? He was just reaching for a couple of stun grenades clipped to the soldier’s belt when there was a sudden crackle, a bit like the static on an old television. Jack paused, wondering where it had come from. It was only when he noticed the red light flashing from a square bulge underneath the soldier’s shirt that he realised what it was. Jack snatched up the radio and held it up to his ear as an urgent voice started to speak through it. “What was that noise?” a man demanded, speaking in German. Jack assumed he must be one of the other soldiers for it definitely wasn’t Nico. “I heard a bang just now, from somewhere in the middle of the village.” “Wasn’t me,” another soldier contributed. “Nor me,” another added. “But did either of you hear anything?” “I did, chief,” a new voice replied, “But it could have just been one of the traps being activated. They’re louder than an atomic bomb at the best of times.” “Perhaps,” the first soldier – the chief – murmured, “But we need to be sure. I’m calling a role call so when I say your name, reply back to me. That way I know you’re all still here. Okay, Markus…” “Ja, chef.” “Timo.” “Ich bin hier.” “Shit,” Jack muttered under his breath, moving the radio away from his mouth so that the others wouldn’t hear him. Now what was he supposed to do? As soon as the unconscious guard didn’t reply, his cover would be blown. It would be plainly obvious that something had gone wrong and that it needed investigating. And with soldiers closing in from every side, how the hell was he supposed to escape then? “Moritz?” “Hier, chef.” “Christophe?” Silence. “Christophe? Are you there?” Still no one replied. With a sudden surge of panic, Jack realised that the unconscious guard’s name had been called. This was it. He was done for. Without even thinking, he put the radio to his lips and spoke as quickly and sharply as he dared: “Ja.” Even though he’d only spoken one syllable, Jack knew he was for it. He hadn’t even managed to get the accent right. How much more suspicious could you get? “In ordnung, Christophe. Maxi?” But miraculously, somehow, impossibly, the chief accepted it and moved on to the next soldier. Perhaps it was the poor sound quality of the radio that had distorted his voice. Perhaps it was that the chief was half-death and needed a hearing aid. Either way, he’d got away with it! But only for now. They may have given him the benefit of the doubt this time, but the length of the pause that had come before his reply was sure to raise some eyebrows among the others soldiers. If he’d been treading a fine enough line beforehand, it had now shrunk to the width of a pencil lead. That meant he was going to have to act even more carefully than before. But at least he was alright for now. That was something to be pleased about. Plus, in the shape of the radio, he now had one ear permanently listening in on the soldier’s conversations. If anyone decided to discuss battle tactics in order to find him, Jack would know about it. Jack pulled the bulletproof vest over his head, tightened the straps so that it was more comfortable, buckled the helmet up under his chin and then picked up his new weaponry. Two grenades went into each of his pockets, the MG4 he cradled in his arms; heavy as a baby and just as precious. Even though he’d replied to the chief’s call, they weren’t going to be totally fooled and at least one was probably on his way over here to check the noise out. Therefore, after dragging the soldier’s heavy body up the stairs and hiding it underneath a double bed and then hiding all the yellow pellets underneath a cheap rug, he scarpered. It didn’t matter where he went this time. Anywhere was better than waiting for the enemy to catch up with him. Leading from the front. Making the first move. Taking the challenge to them. This was what the game was all about. Except, it was more than just a game… wasn’t it? It was a matter of life and death. 15Dead Man WalkingThe second booby trap that Jack came across was even better disguised than the first. Indeed, Jack was basically right on top of it, blissfully unaware of the danger he was entering, when it decided to activate. In fairness to him, how was he supposed to have seen it? How was he supposed to know that that the dented beer can lying in the gutter didn’t actually contain remnants of alcohol, but was stuffed with five grams of a pyrotechnic magnesium-oxidant and some ammonium perchlorate? In other words, a stun grenade? He had no idea - that was the point. And that was why it came as such a shock when the beer can exploded, the inbuilt motion sensor detecting his moving foot just several inches away and simultaneously triggering the oxidant and the oxidiser to mix. Kaboom! Jack was thrown instantly off his feet, searing light shooting all around him like laser beams. He crashed heavily against the tarmac ground but even though he chafed his elbows, it was the least of his problems. The main one was that he was now deaf and completely blind and would be for at least another ten seconds until his eyes restored to their normal state. His whole head rang as if someone had clapped him over the skull with a pair of cymbals. Completely disorientated he scrambled to his feet and groped through the air until he came to a solid wall which he promptly slumped against. It was a weird sensation; not being able to see or hear anything. In different circumstances it might have seemed calm and peaceful, being totally immersed in a world where no one could disrupt you. That would be nice. Particularly when you were stuck in another boring history lesson being run by Mr Martin. But Jack couldn’t afford to relax, not when the loud bang of the grenade would have attracted every single soldier in the arena. They would be after him like a pack of wolves; closing in, licking their lips, sensing blood. Blindly, Jack staggered down the alleyway and tripped over the threshold of a house as he struggled to find his way. He ended up sprawled flat on his stomach but was back on his feet in milliseconds and this time his eyes could just begin to make out the outlines of the objects around him. There was a chest of drawers to his left and a staircase to his right; this he took, leaping up three steps at a time, and then ran as far as he could down the length of the corridor. Right turn, down a flight of stairs, right, left, left again, out into a tiny yard of a garden and hurdle the fence without anyone spotting. Jack hit the grass and rolled underneath a wooden picnic bench, breathing heavily. He laid his head back against the ground and tucked his legs into his chest so that no part of his body was sticking out. Then, he waited. It wasn’t real grass underneath his body; it was AstroTurf and if he hadn’t been wearing the bulletproof vest the prickly blades would have been digging into his back like porcupine quills. It didn’t just block bullets then. However, it was very heavy – as was the machine gun and the helmet – so Jack was glad for the opportunity to catch his breath as he allowed the heat to die down. He experienced one scare when a shadow passed over the fence in front of him, but the soldier was on the other side in the alleyway and didn’t spot Jack as he hurried towards the place where the stun grenade had detonated. Even so, it had been close and Jack appreciated that it was no longer safe to remain in the vicinity. Keep moving. Keep the enemy on their toes. Jack wriggled out from underneath the table and set off once more, but this time with a great deal extra caution. He was in no doubt that if it had been plastic explosive stuffed into the beer can rather than a stun grenade then he’d be dead now. And not just dead – obliterated. His organs would be a Picasso sprayed onto the alleyway walls. That was twice now he’d been caught out by Nico’s booby traps and he could just imagine the Black Eagle laughing out loud as he watched Jack lurch from danger to danger, trap to trap. Well, not any more. There would be no third time unlucky. Jack kept his eyes to the ground and his ears to the air, looking out for any signs of another trap on the ground while also listening out in case any of the soldiers happened to be approaching his position. Both senses had now almost fully recovered from their encounter with the stun grenade and it was a good thing too because the soldiers would be even more determined to kill him now that he’d escaped from their clutches again. They would step up their efforts; perhaps start working as a team more. Jack might now have some means of protection and weaponry on his body, but he was still heavily outmanned and out-experienced. And whichever way you looked at it, it didn’t exactly fill the mind with promise. The central housing estate was getting pretty hot with activity so, after checking that the route was totally clear and that there were no soldiers hiding behind cars or sticks of dynamite strapped to bicycles, Jack crossed over to a row of semi-detached houses and broke into the first house. It was spacious inside and better furnished than the buildings in the main housing estate. In fact, if it weren’t for the smatterings of dry blood that stained the hallway, he might have believed that it was just an ordinary house somewhere in Berlin. There were also tiny little pockmarks in the wall where someone had made a bad job of removing some bullets and then repairing the holes that had been left behind. Clearly, there had once been a struggle here and someone had lost their life as a result. Was it another one of him… a fellow target? Almost certainly. Jack climbed the stairs, carefully avoiding the blood stains, and found himself in a neat bedroom with a single bed and a baby’s cot in the corner. He settled down on the bed and examined the MG4, making sure he knew exactly how it worked for when he inevitably needed to use it. Being German-made, it wasn’t MI6’s first choice to supply to their agents and as a result Jack was unfamiliar with it. But no guns were really that drastically different from each other – they all had a chamber, a trigger and a barrel where the bullet came out of it – so it didn’t take long for him to sus it out. Then he checked how much ammunition he had; it was about fifty rounds, all conjoined together in a long chain like the links on a metal watch. When the weapon in question had a fire rate in excess of 800 rounds per minute it wasn’t much at all so Jack was going to have to use his provisions scarcely and sparingly. Equipment sorted, he turned to the window. He was sure that the Black Eagle leader couldn’t see him, but if Jack squinted he could make out Nico still up on the balcony, now on the opposite side of the arena. The German had whipped out a pair of binoculars and was now staring down intently into the main housing estate, like a nature lover studying a fleet of rare birds. Sicko. By the way the binoculars kept on sweeping from side to side, not focusing on one particular point, Jack would have said that he was restless, struggling to make head or tails of everything that was going on. Well, Jack planned to keep it that way. It would serve the bastard right. Speaking of which, how much time had passed since the game had begun? To Jack it felt like bare seconds, but he knew that was impossible. It was only because he was always active, constantly having to run and hide from the enemy that everything had gone so fast. Inexplicably, Jack’s eyes were drawn to the village church or, more specifically, the grand clock face hanging from the bottom of the spire. Despite himself, Jack smiled. It wasn’t so much a clock as a timer, both the hour and minute hand having started on 12 at the beginning of the game and now having moved slowly round as the time had ticked away. The minute hand was now positioned just above the 8 indicating that forty minutes had elapsed since then. “Jesus Christ,” Jack muttered. Had it really been forty minutes already? He couldn’t exactly say that he was having fun, but heck… that still didn’t stop time from flying, did it? At this rate, the exercise record would be smashed with ease. Suddenly there was a loud smash from below, like the splintering of glass, followed by a thump as something heavy whacked against the back door. Jack jumped with a start, his thoughts and peace instantly shattered. He instinctively grabbed the MG4 and held it close to his chest – his only lifeline if it came to a head-on fight with one of the soldiers. Then, he listened. Carefully. His life depended on it. There was someone breaking into the house alright. Jack could tell by the creaking of wood and the crunching of glass under heavy boots as someone shoved their hand through the broken window in the door and reached down for the handle, twisting it a hundred and eighty degrees so that the door unlocked and then retracting his arm back through. Jack stood up and edged towards the bedroom door as the loudest bang of all sounded; the intruder had kicked open the door, tearing it half off its hinges. He was in. Jack rushed out onto the landing, at the same time flicking off the safety catch, and fired a burst of bullets down the stairs towards the intruder. Not too many. Just a few. Enough to give the soldier a warning. Show him that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d been expecting. The fleeting shape of the soldier dodged into a side room as machine gun bullets peppered the walls, adding to the scars of previous fights. Then Jack risked sacrificing one of his flash grenades, ripping out the pin and then hurling it with pin point accuracy into the side room. A brilliant light filled the house, like a second gun, and Jack was sure the soldier would now be blinded for at least five seconds – as Jack had been just minutes before. Jack could’ve ran down the stairs and finished the soldier off – a quick bullet to the brain would have been sufficient – but he didn’t have time. Seconds were crucial now. A single one could mean the difference between life and death. Sure, if he decided to kill the intruder it would mean one less enemy to contend with. But it would also allow the others to close in, to surround the house. And then there would be no escape. No… for once, engaging in battle wasn’t the right choice. It was time to run. Run for your life. Jack was considering taking the stairs down to the ground floor but, in the end, his decision was made for him. A second soldier appeared through the back door – presumably he’d been sticking close to the first in case anything happened – charging in from the garden with a live frag grenade already in his retracted hand. He hurled it up onto the landing, the spherical shape allowing it to bounce and roll into the bedroom. It was the only thing he could do; Jack turned and sprinted. As fast as he could. There could be no waiting, no hesitating. Not when there was a giant lump of volatile explosive on his tail; about to detonate at any moment, about to blow everything around it into dust. Jack took one look at the window and then dived straight through it, using the sill as a platform to push off from. At the same time, the grenade exploded, ripping the bed and the baby’s cot into shreds. Jack tumbled sideways, the machine gun flying out of his hands and embedding itself deep in a hedge. It was a good thing too, because Jack was going to need his hands for comforting the fall. His ankle jarred as he hit the ground, buckling and twisting under his own weight. He stumbled forwards but remained on his feet by using his arms to push himself back up. Pain shot up his calf every time he placed his foot on the ground, like he was being repeatedly stabbed by a dagger, but he had to endure it. He couldn’t let up. He had to keep going whether it be running or staggering, hobbling or crawling. His life depended on it. Jack was halfway across the road when he remembered the machine gun, but by then it was far too late to go back and try and retrieve it. Really, it had been lost the moment it had slipped from his grasp. It was a big blow, but it wasn’t the end of the world. That only came with death. Besides, he still had his last flash grenade, his bulletproof armour and his Kevlar helmet. He wasn’t totally exposed. As he reached the opposite pavement and lurched into one of the many alleyways, he risked a glance backwards. Not one but both soldiers were now on his tail, charging out of the smoky house with their faces locked in concentration. Men on a mission. One was staggering slightly as he still recovered from the effects of the flash grenade, but the other was alert and agile with the physique of a sprinter. He’d have caught up with Jack easily, even if he hadn’t twisted his ankle. Jack knew he was doomed but still he kept going; never giving up, never losing faith that he might somehow make it out alive. Twisting this way and that, he lost himself in the maze of alleyways. Each corner and intersection he took at random, more out of hope than strategy or anything else. He heard a loud shout from somewhere over to his left. One of the soldiers. Perhaps a call or an order. Jack didn’t stop to listen. The heavy armour was weighing him down, sapping his energy. It was like trying to run with a small child constantly clinging to your back. Jack was a decent long distance runner, but what with the injury to compound his misery even he was struggling. He couldn’t go on like this. Not for much longer. He had to find somewhere to rest. Even if it killed him. When his ankle jarred for a second time he was left with no choice. He came to a juddering halt in a second floor apartment and sought refuge behind a large wardrobe. He was tempted to just climb inside and curl into a ball underneath the clothes hangers, but some part of his mind forced himself not to stoop down to that level. It would be as good as giving up. There he inspected his ankle, pulling back the sock and wincing at the puffy swelling he saw. It was red. Bright red. Back home, this would mean no football training and no running for several weeks. Guaranteed. Here, it meant nothing. Swelling or no swelling, sprain or no sprain, he was going to have to run. And run fast. Jack stopped and cupped his ear, directing it towards the entrance to the room. In the distance he heard more shouting, more orders, but they were a good fifty metres away. A safe distance. Well, as safe as he was going to get in this hellhole. Had that meant he’d lost them? It seemed like it. For now at least. Like him, they must have got completely lost in the labyrinth. Gone a different direction. But they’d be back soon. They’d always be back. Relentless. Unremitting. Until there was no breath left in his body. Remarkably, he still had the radio. As Jack sat there it crackled into life; he pulled it out of his pocket and put it to his ear. “Any sign of the target?” a man demanded. Jack recognised the voice as the chief. By the deathly silence that was thrown back at him, Jack took that as a no. Good. The chief swore. “Keep looking,” he growled. “The bastard can’t have gone far.” “I’ll keep an eye on the house in Murder Terrace, chief,” one of the soldiers said. “Just in case he decides to come back.” “Don’t be stupid, Timo,” the chief growled. “Why the hell would he go back there? The bastard’s just going to hide and quake like all the others that have come up against us.” “Because he dropped his gun, sir,” Timo replied. “It’s lying in one of the hedges not two metres from me. If I lie in ambush and he comes back then-” “Wait a minute… did you just say he had a gun?” “Yes, sir. An MG4.” “But how…?” Then it hit home. “Christophe…” So now they knew, Jack thought. About the soldier he’d knocked unconscious. The secret was out. And that meant they would no longer be underestimating him. Damn. “Very well, Timo. Remain in your position. If he appears, don’t hesitate to shoot the bastard. Snipers, keep watching from your posts. Foot soldiers, start surrounding the housing estate. I want as many exits out of the place cornered off so that the target can’t escape. Then start closing in. There’ll be no way out for him. And when we do find the target, kill him slowly. I want it to be painful. Very painful indeed.” A chorus of “Yes, sirs” sounded in Jack’s ear before he stuffed the radio back in his pocket and folded his arms, frowning deeply. His face was set in a grim expression, eyes full of anxiety as he reflected on the chief’s new orders. So they were trying to trap him were they? Force him into a corner from which was there no escape? A dead end? Jack knew he couldn’t let them. In chess, if you allowed your king to be surrounded you’d lose ninety-nine per cent of the time. It was the same situation here. Keep moving – that was the solution. Even if his ankle was going to slow him up. Dead man walking. That was what it felt like now. Although perhaps dead man hobbling was more suitable for the occasion. Jack stood up, left the building and walked straight into another trap. In the end, it was his quick reflexes that saved him. That and a whole heap of timely luck. There had been a letterbox built into the wall of one of the houses, a bit like the cash machines you see all over Britain. Jack had seen it clearly as he’d approached – the bright red paint sticking out like a sore thumb against the brown brick backdrop – but hadn’t thought anything of it. After all, he’d passed lots of letterboxes before back home and none of them had ever attacked him. It was only natural. Human instinct. Letterboxes weren’t there to kill you. How he’d been proven wrong. He was almost directly in line with the letterbox when he sensed it. The danger. Maybe it was just luck or maybe just instinct, but in that moment he suddenly knew that something was wrong. That something wasn’t all as it seemed. However, by then, he’d already taken another step forward, bringing him in line with the mouth of the letterbox. The motion sensor had calculated it perfectly so that in the precise instant that Jack’s body was in line, the trap decided to activate. A complex mechanism hidden inside the well of the letterbox triggered and in the space of half a second, a wide shuriken had been spat out through the mouth of the letterbox. Traditionally used by Japanese ninjas in hand to hand combat, a shuriken was like a lethal poison: fast and deadly. Shaped like a star and made out of metal, each prong was as sharp as a razor. And this one had five of them. Curved slightly at the edges like the claws on a dinosaur, it was designed to tear through bone and flesh as if it was tissue paper. It spun through the air like a Frisbee, gathering up speed: indeed, Jack had used a shuriken before disguised as that very object. But while that had saved his life, this one was designed to do the opposite. Hurtling straight at his ribs at close to a hundred miles per hour, his internal organs wouldn’t stand a chance. At the last moment, Jack saved himself. And even then he hardly knew anything about it. The sound of the shuriken being fired had caught his attention and as the deadly weapon hurtled towards him, slicing through the air like a knife, he turned to see what had happened. It was only ever so slightly – perhaps even just a few centimetres – but it was enough. One thing that Jack had learned working for MI6 was that often the line between life and death was a thin one. The shuriken slashed into the side of the bulletproof vest, producing nothing but a small dent in the material; a few centimetres to one side and it would have cut straight into Jack’s flesh. And carried on going, right through his chest. As it was the armour absorbed most of the impact, but Jack was still thrown off his feet by the impact. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Jack ended up hitting the ground, skidding across the tarmac before ending up half buried in the gutter. Spluttering, for all the breath had been knocked out of him by the shuriken, Jack staggered to his feet and doubled over, clutching his side. He felt the dent in the bulletproof vest with his finger and knew that he’d been lucky. He might end up with a large bruise on his ribs, but compared to what could have happened it wasn’t much of a sacrifice, was it? Jack looked down and noticed the shuriken, metal blades glinting in the light. He bent down and picked it up, wiping off the dirt on his trousers before inspecting it. Two of the spikes had been blunted from its encounter with the vest, but given a strong enough throw it could still do some damage. Jack took it all the same. A sudden shout brought Jack crashing back to his senses, accompanied by the thundering of charging feet. “This way! I heard something!” “Oh shit,” Jack muttered. Not again. Didn’t these guys ever give you a break? In the opposite direction, he turned and ran. Well… hobbled, at least. His body had now taken so many blows, he could probably pass off as a boxer’s punch bag. “Marko! Cut him off on the south side.” As soon as Jack heard the instruction he changed direction, veering off to the side and scrambling over a garden fence. To protect his ankle, his landing had to be cautious and it almost cost him as a hail of bullets sprayed into the fence not seconds after. “There! There he is!” Panting, Jack hobbled down the alleyway and almost tripped over a pothole. Sweat was pouring down his face and soaking into his shirt, causing it to cling to his skin. Every step was an effort and every step was becoming more and more difficult. He was knackered, exhausted, worn out. If he ever closed his eyes, Jack was sure he wouldn’t wake up until the new year. Nico may have presented him with a whole meat buffet for lunch in order to build up his strength, but Jack doubted even a whole stack of 13” pizzas would have done the job. He couldn’t go on like this. He just couldn’t. The soldiers were effectively toying him. That was the underlying fact of the matter. The exercise record might be at risk, but they weren’t. Not really. Not if safety in numbers was anything to go by. They could afford to relax, to take it easy; once in a while giving chase just to keep Jack scared and on his toes, slowly sapping his strength. He’d ridden his luck so far, but it wouldn’t last. Nothing ever did. And the soldiers would be waiting for him. They always would be. Calmly. Efficiently. Effectively, they had all the time in the world. Jack remembered a clip from Frozen Planet where a pack of killer whales – orcas – were attempting to bring down a single minke whale. How he could think about a thing like that in such a perilous situation was beyond him, but it was relevant and at least it helped take his mind off his current predicament. The minke whale had been faster in a straight line and had better endurance than the orca, but outnumbered he hadn’t stood a chance. Working as a team, the killer whales had simply kept pace with the minke, all the while bumping into it and wearing it down. They weren’t massive blows – the equivalent of a twisted ankle, a bruised rib and a grazed knee – but over time it had accumulated. As for the orcas, whenever one of them got tired there’d always be another to take their place. Simple as. In the end the pursuit lasted over several hours, but the result had never been in doubt. It was a formality. A final blow was all it took and the minke was no more. It had fought valiantly, but in the end it was all in vain. Actually, scrap that, Jack thought. It wasn’t taking his mind off it at all. He camped out in a bathroom for a few minutes before continuing, recharging his batteries and watching with a mix of amusement and apprehension as a soldier appeared in a garden not ten metres away and crouched down behind a large rose bush, plotting an ambush. His olive green uniform camouflaged perfectly against the shrubbery and Jack was glad that he’d spotted him now rather than later when he was outside. Even then, it narrowed down his options about which way he could go. The exercise was getting tense; even tenser than before if that was possible. Even though they were under no threat, even the soldiers were starting to get restless. Jack heard more and more swear words over the radio line while the chief’s orders became more and more aggressive, voice tinged with malice and desperation: “Maxi! Start searching through the houses, for God’s sake!” “Find that boy! He can’t keep running forever!” Their health wasn’t at risk, but their pride was. Once, Jack risked a sneaky glance up at the balcony and could see that Nico was not only getting bored, but irritated as well. This was not what he’d been expecting. It was a teenager, goddammit! He should have been easy prey for twelve highly-trained soldiers. At least that gave Jack something to smile about, however slight it was. Slightly rejuvenated and with half a plan in his head, Jack gave his injuries a tender rub and then continued on his way, heading towards one of the tallest buildings in the whole of Dead End. A lot had changed since the start of the exercise and everyone was disorientated, even the soldiers. The way Jack saw it, to get a better understanding of how the enemy was currently laid out he needed another good sweep of the arena which meant, of course, finding another decent vantage point. The four-floor block of flats was ideal. So wrapped up was he on the lookout for enemy ambushes, he almost walked straight into another of the traps. In fact, if the sunlight hadn’t caught the thin metal wire right at the last moment, causing it to glint, then he would have done. Jack’s legs stopped so suddenly, his upper body almost sent him toppling forwards. The trip wire was barely a centimetre from his ankle, positioned strategically at this height so that it would easily be caught and pulled if any unwary victim walked into it while also low enough for most people not to notice. Jack blew a deep sigh of relief, mopped his brow with the back of his hand and followed the trip wire across the alleyway to find the source. There it was, cleverly hidden inside a battered metal dustbin. A small hole no larger than a finger had been cut into the corrugated metal and through it the wire ran. Jack checked his shoulder in case anyone happened to be approaching then slowly, carefully, silently lifted off the dustbin lid. At the bottom, half hidden underneath some faded newspaper, was a bomb. Even though it was wrapped in brown parcel paper, Jack had seen enough in his time to know exactly what it was even without touching it. Why else would it be rigged up to a tripwire? About the size of a fist, even inside the dustbin it would have caused a lot damage. Indeed, once the metalwork was torn to shreds, it would effectively become flying shrapnel. Jack’s whole body would have ripped apart, almost beyond recognition. Well, he was glad he’d spotted that one in time that was for sure. He replaced the dustbin lid and turned back the way he’d come. Hopefully, if any of the soldiers were following him, they wouldn’t be so lucky. The entrance to the block of flats was in the next alleyway and Jack pushed open to the door, pausing, listening, then slipping quietly inside. Someone had already been here. Jack could tell from the footprints in the dust and the dirt; big, ridged and wide. Army boots. The rest of the dust was neatly settled, like a layer of ash in the wake of a volcanic eruption. From the shape and direction of the boot marks, Jack could also tell that the soldier had walked into the building and then climbed the stairs; large, purposeful paces. The footprints hadn’t come back. The single line was all there was; one way, no return. So unless there was a secret exit further up that Jack didn’t know about, it could only mean one thing: the soldier was still inside the building. Jack stared up at the ceiling and suddenly didn’t feel quite so safe. But he wasn’t going to turn and flee; he’d already had that argument. The way he saw it, the soldier wasn’t another threat. It was just one more enemy that he had the chance to eliminate. Taking it slowly and silently by keeping light on the balls of his feet, Jack crept over to the stairs and started to climb. Thankfully, these were made of stone rather than word and made no sound. The second floor was empty which meant that the soldier had to be further up; the footprints supported this so Jack followed. It was on the third floor that he heard the voice; a low incoherent mumble, coming from above. Jack climbed the final flight of stairs and crouched low, poking his head round the banister. It was a soldier alright – a sniper. Jack could tell from the large weapon hanging from his chest; over a metre in length with a telescopic sight fitted to the top. Even if a target appeared on the other side of the arena, the sniper would be able to pick them off with ease. The guy was still muttering something, but Jack could tell that it was more out boredom than anything else. If it had been a conversation with the other soldiers, Jack would have been able to hear it on the radio. In a way, Jack couldn’t blame him. Judging by his body language it appeared as if the soldier had been posted in this same position for a long time, staring out of the same window and staring at the same scenery for over an hour. And it wasn’t as if he’d had anything to do either. Jack had made sure he’d steered well clear of any possible snipers, sticking to the confinements of the alleyways where he only had foot soldiers to contend with. They might have machine guns, but at least Jack had a chance of outrunning them or beating them in single combat. In comparison, there was no outrunning a sniper rifle. Not if it was shot accurately enough. The soldier sighed with frustration and muttered a string of words under his breath, most of which Jack understood. Half of them had been swear words. The other half confirmed what Jack already suspected – the guy was fed up about having nothing to do. Well, Jack was about to change that. The soldier wanted action? He’d get action. The soldier wanted to see the target for once? That could certainly be arranged. In less than a second, Jack covered the distance between the staircase and the window, swinging his fist round at the soldier’s exposed face before the guy could even react. He made perfect contact, the soldier’s nose crunching like a paper bag. Jack’s left hand smothered the soldier’s mouth to muffle his screams and then he backed up, dragging the man to the floor. The soldier’s legs kicked and thrashed wildly, like the tail of a fish after it’s been pulled out of the water, but Jack held firmly onto him and started pummelling him further, smashing his fist and elbow into every vulnerable part of his body. It was one hit too much for the soldier. A final fist to the temple snuffed out the fuse and his body went limp, head lolling to the side. Jack let go of him and stood up, hands and clothes streaked with fresh blood. At least it wasn’t his own. Jack pressed his fingers against the soldier’s neck and held it there. He could feel a pulse; faint, but most definitely there. Good, that meant he was just unconscious. Even though the guy was the enemy and was being paid to kill him, Jack still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of ending his life so brutally. “What was that?” the voice shouted out at him, louder than usual because of course there were two radios in the room rather than one. “I thought I heard something just now.” Jack was about to ignore the question and hope for the best when he had a brainwave. He snatched up his radio and, putting on his best, most authentic German accent said: “I saw him! The target – I saw him! Over by the church!” It was a good job he was fluent in German, otherwise the plan would never have worked. Jack’s comment was greeted by the chief who, in the heat of the moment, didn’t stop for a moment to consider whether it was legitimate or not. All he was interested in was eliminating the target and this had been the sighting he’d been waiting for. “Joachim, Ditmar, Hermann, Marko. Get over to the church now and surround the perimeter. I want that bastard brought back in a matchbox, you hear me?” Jack managed to force a smile; at least that would keep them busy for a while, at the same time giving him some much needed respite. Leaving the sniper rifle because it would be too heavy to carry, Jack removed all of the soldier’s hand and flash grenades and added them to his own supply. As a plus, he even found a hunting knife tucked into the man’s back pocket which could prove to be useful. Another man down, resources replenished… perhaps his luck was holding out. Yet Jack wasn’t happy. There was still something bothering him; something big, something important. With his fatigued brain, it took almost a full minute for him to work out what it was: What was the point? Seriously, what was the point? Jack was suddenly overwhelmed with a great tidal wave of depression as he realised that the situation was hopeless. That his future was bleaker than a grey winter’s morning. He could keep knocking out the soldiers one by one, but at the end of the day, what would that achieve? He’d still be trapped inside the arena whatever happened. Either his luck would eventually run out – surely it couldn’t hold out for much longer, not when he was so drained physically – or Nico would just lose patience and reveal his position to the soldiers. Bang, bang. Bullet to the head. As the chief had just said, the only way he’d be leaving the arena would be in a matchbox. It was a never ending ride through a sadistic haunted house, new horrors jumping out at him from the darkness every few minutes. Unless he wanted to be stuck on this same torturous track for the rest of his life, he had to make a definitive decision soon: he had to get off the ride and find his own way to the exit. Only then would any of this be worth it. So what he really needed to do was escape from the arena. Escape, but still be enough in one piece to fly back to Hong Kong to warn the others about the awaiting danger. Easier said than done was an understatement. Considering that there was only one way in and one way out of the place, and the fact that he was just one teenager surrounded by a whole army of enemies, it seemed almost impossible. Almost… Where there was a will there was a way. And Jack was going to find a way, even if it killed him. Or if the soldiers got to him first, of course. Most of the odds were against him… all of them in fact… but this wasn’t the first time that he’d been in a seemingly hopeless situation. There’d been the drowning tank in Sydney, the archery range in Africa, the mountain top in Canada, to name but a few. True, all those times he’d had gadgets with him to help him, but somehow he’d always made it out. By luck or skill, he’d always escaped, survived and lived to tell the tale. Today would be no different. Whatever it took, Jack was determined not to break the trend. All he needed was a plan…16Double TroubleThe question was: how? Whichever way you looked at it, escape really did seem impossible. As far as he was aware, the telephone box was the only way in and out, but when Jack had been dropped into the arena it had been controlled from the balcony so there was no chance of hitching a lift back to the surface. Jack was sure there were others – surely the soldiers hadn’t arrived single file via the lift – but right now, he had no idea where they were. And if he had no idea where they were, he couldn’t escape. Then there were the soldiers to deal with. While he was still breathing, they weren’t going to give him a moment’s peace. An escape would be difficult enough if it was just him inside the arena. To do it with ten soldiers constantly on his tail was even harder. The main problem was that the exits would be on the edge of the arena, where the village was most open. With so many snipers around, they’d see him in an instant. He needed at least several minutes to have a proper search for an exit, not mere seconds. Unless, of course, he could somehow make the enemy show him where the exits were… As the chief had just said, the only way he’d be leaving the arena would be in a matchbox… Jack suddenly realised what he needed to do; what was the only way that he’d ever be allowed to leave the arena. It was the chief soldier that had given him the answer, the hint that he’d been looking for. To leave the arena, he needed the soldiers to think he was dead. Somehow he had to trick them into believing that the exercise was over as then and only then would they stop pursuing him. And once they thought he was dead, with any luck they might reveal one of the secret exits out of here. It was as simple as that. However, there was just one problem. Quite a big one. How was he supposed to convince the soldiers that he was dead without actually killing himself? Whatever the plan, it couldn’t involve harming himself in any way otherwise he’d never be able to escape. He could always get back onto the radio and claim that he’d just seen the target’s dead body lying on the floor – perhaps suggest he was the one that had just killed him, maybe with a knife to the throat or something. Yes, that could work… But the further Jack thought about it, the less convinced he became. Before the soldiers did anything, they would want to see the evidence. They would want to see the dead body with their very own eyes to know for sure that the target was down and that the exercise was over. Only then would they consider leaving the arena. It was the same with all Jack’s other plan; they all came down to the one, same pivotal problem: there needed to be a body. There needed to be evidence. And for obvious reasons, it couldn’t be Jack lying on the floor. Not his actual self, at least. Then what…? Jack stared down at the body of the knocked out soldier… and that was when he noticed it. Sprawled face down on the floor with his hands tucked by his side, was it just Jack’s imagination or did the soldier look a bit like him? Certainly he had the same blond hair, sticking out in tufts from underneath the Kevlar helmet. He also appeared to be of a similar build and a similar height. Take the distinct facial features and the slight age gap out of the equation and they could have been twins. The only blatant differences were the clothes, but that could easily be fixed. Clothes were temporary, physical appearances were permanent. Could it work…? Would it be enough to fool the soldiers…? Would they be convinced that the body was him, not just one of their fellow soldiers in disguise…? A rush of excitement filled Jack’s body and he even afforded himself a sly smile. It wasn’t fool proof by a long way, but it was the best idea he had. However slim the chances of it working, at least it was a chance. And that was all he was looking for. Besides, he couldn’t afford to waste any longer dallying around coming up with plans to escape. Every second that went by was another second closer to the soldiers finding him or Nico losing his patience. And when the Black Eagle leader decided that it was time for Jack to die, nothing would get in his way. In a way, it was a bit like taking a penalty during a football match – something Jack had plenty of experience at. If you took too long before taking the kick, the pressure of the moment could get to you. You were more likely to make a mistake and you would start to doubt your own ability. It was the same with choosing where to place the shot; if you kept on changing your mind right up to the last moment, in the end the shot would lack conviction and placement. It would end up somewhere in between and the goalkeeper would save easily. Therefore, the best option all round was just to pick a spot and go for it. No second doubts, no hesitating over whether you’d made the right decision – just get your head down, go for it and hope for the best. And more often than not, you’d hit the back of the net. That was the way Jack viewed the plan. He had a decent idea. It wasn’t impossible. Now he just had to go for it. Dragging the soldier’s body into the corner of the room so nobody could see what was happening through the open window, Jack unstrapped the Kevlar helmet and started to undress the soldier. Helmet, bulletproof vest, jacket, shirt, trousers, boots, even the blue and white striped socks… they all came off until the unconscious soldier was lying half-naked on the floor, only a pair of department store boxers sparing his blushes. Jack could have gone the extra mile and removed those too, but asides from all the obvious reasons about personal privacy, he didn’t think it was necessary. The other soldiers were hardly going to check his privates when they found the dead body, were they? Even with a freak like Nico in control, Jack doubted they’d go that far. Now Jack started undressing himself, stripping down to his boxers just as he’d done with the soldier. He realised how awkward it would be if one of the soldiers walked into the room right now and saw this sight. It would take a hell of a lot of explaining, that was for sure. Although, to be honest, he probably wouldn’t even have the chance. He would be gunned down before he could even utter a syllable. Maybe it was better that way. Once all their clothes were organised into two rough piles, Jack set about redressing, but this time switching the clothes round so that he would appear in the olive green soldier’s uniform while the soldier would be lying in Jack’s sweaty red t-shirt, trousers and Nike trainers. Dressing the unconscious body was more difficult because it required Jack to feed both the arms and the legs through their respective sleeves and on more than one occasion, Jack was afraid that the soldier might wake up. What a shock that would be, Jack thought, waking up to find someone pulling a stinky t-shirt over your head. But thankfully the soldier didn’t wake up and, within five minutes, the switchover was complete. Jack rolled the soldier onto his stomach so that he was lying face down then stepped back for a better look. It wasn’t a perfect match and people who knew Jack well would immediately identify that his hair wasn’t so thick or that his feet didn’t bulge out of his trainers like they’d been injected with histamine (it was the opposite problem for Jack with the combat boots as they were about two sizes too big for him). But the soldiers didn’t know him well and as long as the body remained face down for as long as it took Jack to escape the arena, there was no reason why the plan shouldn’t work. Still… that did leave a lot down to chance. If there were some way of distorting the body’s physical features, making it harder to distinguish who the real identity actually was, then maybe that would give Jack a bit more time. The bomb… of course! It all started to fit into place as Jack realised not only would the bomb provide the perfect cover to explain how the target had died, but with any luck it would also destroy the body to such an extent that it would be impossible to make out any distinct features that could give the game away. The only way he’d be leaving the arena would be in a matchbox… Well, it seemed as if the chief was going to get his wish after all. Jack was just about to pick up the body and start dragging it down the stairs when he remembered just one last thing: the microchip. Nico’s defence mechanism to make sure that Jack could never escape without being noticed, the whole plan would be ruined in an instant if the tracking signal on Nico’s GPS didn’t match up with the position of the body in the arena. The Black Eagle leader would be able to suss what had happened in a split second… and would come at Jack with even stronger vengeance. He had to get the microchip out. He just had to. There was no other way. Jack pulled out the hunting knife that had, until recently, belonged to the unconscious soldier and held the point above the wound in his left wrist – the exact point where the microchip had entered and embedded in his flesh. Jack gritted his teeth and could almost feel the tears of pain welling up in his eyes already. This was going to hurt. More than anything he’d ever experienced before. He plunged down and, clamping his jaw tightly shut to prevent himself from screaming, started to dig into his own flesh, trying to flick the microchip out through the hole. The serrated blade stabbed deeper into his wrist and Jack’s whole face contorted in agony. But still he didn’t let go. He had to get it out. There was no other choice. The pain was now so tremendous that Jack thought he was going to pass out. Fresh blood was pouring out of the wound and down his arm, reaching his elbow before dripping onto the floor. His mind was beginning to swim, even worse than when the smoke had attacked him. With one final thrust, he dug the blade underneath the microchip and forced it upwards, pushing it with all his strength. With a bloody mess of metal, electronic components and tissue fibres, the microchip burst out through the wound and fell to the floor, strong enough so as not to break as it rolled across the carpet. Jack fell to his knees and clenched all his muscles, his insides screaming at him with agony and fury. It felt as if his whole hand had been ripped off; wrist throbbing, tendons straining. Jack swore out loud, a low hiss that helped to alleviate the pain by stimulating the body to release endorphins. But it was already beginning to subside anyway, much like the trail of blood as a scab started to form over the large, ugly wound. Jack let out a deep sigh, throwing back his head and breathing in huge lungfuls of air, before eventually finding the strength to pick up the microchip, walk over to the soldier’s body and slip it deep into one of the pockets. There, that should do the trick. Then he grabbed the soldier by the arms and, making sure he was still unconscious, started to drag him slowly down the stairs towards the ground floor. The knife was back in his pocket, within easy reach in case danger happened to be lurking around the next corner, but for once he made it down without incidence and soon found his way all the way back to the alleyway where the metal dustbin containing the bomb stood about two thirds of the way down. Yep, everything was just the same as he’d left it. Jack took a deep breath and shuffled forward so that he was standing about two metres from the tripwire. He then yanked the body up so that it was almost standing upright, Jack’s arms around the waist, face looking towards the trap that was about to kill him. Jack was saddened that it had to end this way, that in order for him to escape the soldier was going to have to die. But you couldn’t make an omelette without breaking any eggs. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A life for a life. The soldier’s death would at least provide Jack with a chance to live. Sometimes there is no next time. No time outs. No second chances. Sometimes it’s now or never. Jack shoved the soldier towards the tripwire with all his strength, at the same time spinning round and flinging himself to the ground. He hit the tarmac and scrunched himself up into a ball, placing his hands over his ears to drown out the inevitable noise. Mere milliseconds later, both legs caught the nylon tripwire and as the limp body continued to topple forwards they yanked it out of position. Boom! Pin pulled out, the bomb exploded in a massive fireball. The soldier’s body was flung forwards about five metres in the air, limbs wheeling. Flames ravaged at his skin and clothes, tearing away huge chunks like hungry mouths. As Jack had expected, the metal dustbin became flying daggers of shrapnel and Jack could sense them, feel them, raining down around him and lashing at his skin. Flaming scraps of rubbish settled on his thighs and he could feel it searing into him. The noise was tremendous, louder than a V10 engine at full revs. Even with his hands over his ears, Jack felt as if his eardrums were going to explode. There could be no way that the other soldiers missed that. Indeed, there was a higher chance that those nearest would be deafened. All this took place in less than a second, but to Jack it seemed like minutes – time moving in slow motion. The explosion was followed by a heavy thump as the soldier’s body came down to earth with a crash, not even the Kevlar helmet and bulletproof vest that had previously belonged to Jack preventing every bone in his body from breaking. But even before that the damage had been done. The initial blast had created severe wounds across the body that were beyond repair. Indeed, it was probably only the clothes and the bulletproof vest that were stopping every limb from simply falling apart; a sack full of useless body parts. Jack staggered to his feet, ignoring his own injuries to first check the state of the soldier. One glimpse told him all he needed to know. The body, lying face down but with its head to the side, wasn’t going to get up again. That was a definite. The side of the face visible was a mass of cut and large burns, deep red in colour through a mixture of blistered skin and thick, oozing blood. However, the most important thing was that the identity was undistinguishable and would remain so until a great deal of cleaning work was undertaken at the very least. Just to be sure, Jack carefully turned the head round so that the eyes that would never see again were facing the ground and then sprinted back the way he’d come. At any moment, the other soldiers would be arriving in their hoards to find out what had just happened. In the nick of time, Jack darted back into the block of flats and sprinted up the first flight of stairs as two soldiers came racing passed behind him, heading directly towards the alleyway and the billows of smoke visible above the rooftops. Jack continued running right up to the fourth floor and then hurried over to the window, leaning out and desperately searching for the one person he was looking for. And there he was. In the last few seconds, Nico Muller’s body language had changed completely. After hearing the loud explosion from inside the arena he’d stood up and was now pacing up and down the balcony, barking orders into his radio. His face was alive; all signs of boredom from earlier vanished. “What’s happened? Get over there and tell me what’s happened now?” His conversation was with the chief soldier, speaking on a private frequency so that no one else could listen in on what was being said. “Yes, sir,” the chief replied. “I’m already on my way.” Hopping up and down with excitement, Nico took a last swig of his beer and waited. This target had been a particularly hard nut to crack, but it had only ever been a matter of time. And now, if his suspicions were correct, he’d finally been brought down. Nico savoured the moment, enjoying the taste of revenge. It felt good. Very good. From his high vantage point, Jack watched carefully as the chief appeared from inside the town hall where he’d been stationed and started hurrying over to the alleyway. He wasn’t the only one; soldiers from all locations were appearing and making their way quickly to the scene of the crime. His eyes then returned to Nico who was clasping his radio eagerly like a boy on Christmas morning and finally to the church clock, almost directly in front of him. The timer had been stopped, the minute hand hovering just a few degrees from the twelve. Almost two whole hours in hell! If all else failed today, at least Jack could claim he’d broken the exercise record. His radio squawked into life as the first soldiers reached the alleyway and suddenly the stagnant air was full of urgent messages being spoken. “It was a bomb, alright. The one hidden in the dustbin right next to the toy store.” “Bloody hell! The damage is colossal! There’s no way anyone could have survived that.” “Is it the target? Is it the boy?” the chief yelled, his powerful voice carrying over everyone else’s. “Yes, sir. Most definitely. You can tell by the clothes he’s wearing… what little of it there is left.” “And you’re absolutely sure he’s dead?” A second later, Jack heard machine gun fire and knew that one of the soldiers was emptying his magazine into his colleague’s body. “I am now.” “Very well. I’ll tell Nico. He’ll want to know the news straightaway.” Now was the important part. Jack watched Nico’s movement intently as first the Black Eagle leader put his radio to his ear and then started to speak. He hadn’t stopped pacing, but the one difference that Jack did notice was that his face was becoming more and more elated. Eventually, he put the radio down and reached for a second radio, this time attached to the wall. The tannoy. “No one is to touch the body until I get there!” Nico announced, his commanding voice booming out across Dead End. “I want to be first one to spit in his face, to show K.O what is to become of their proud organisation.” With that, he put the radio back and started to pace down the corridor. Jack was already on the move. He sprinted down to the third floor and went over to the window. Much more like it, he thought. With most of the buildings in the town being no more than two floors high, a pathway of roofs had now opened up in front of him: A pathway to freedom. Leaning out of the window, Jack swung himself up onto the window ledge and looked down. The first roof was directly below him, a drop of no more than two metres. Piece of cake. Jack jumped out, easily clearing the narrow alleyway beneath, and landed silently on the rooftop. He forward rolled to comfort the impact and to prevent his sprained ankle from jarring again, then stood up in a crouch. With so much adrenalin pumping through his veins now that he could actually smell freedom, now that he actually had a chance of escape, he barely felt the pain any longer. He could hear the soldiers mumbling between themselves over to one side, but there was at least several brick walls between him and them and no one saw as he took a run up and leapt onto the next roof, pausing to regain his balance and then moving on to the next one. Once he’d reached the southern edge of the housing estate, Jack dropped carefully down and crouched down behind a garden hedge. He looked up and followed Nico’s progress round the balcony, noticing the new sense of determination and authority to the man’s walk. No one was going to disobey his orders – not if they wanted to live that is – and this would benefit Jack. Even once he’d escaped from the arena, there was still the problem of the Black Eagle complex to deal with. He didn’t know his way around, the facility would be crawling with guards and they’d perhaps give him two glances before realising that he was an enemy and shooting him down. In addition, he would then have to find a way out of the complex’s high security perimeter and pick up a mode of transport that would carry him safely away from the area before they could start up a pursuit. Jack knew he was somewhere near Berlin, but he didn’t have a clue which part. He could be slap bang in the middle of the city or he could still be several miles from civilisation. It would just be bad sodding luck if he were to get out, only to be captured again because he couldn’t reach or call help in time. And all this while working against the clock, praying that the siren which would signal that his escape had been detected and which would alert the guards to start hunting him again would only sound once he was well away from danger. Yeah… things were far from done and dusted. He might be nearing the edge of the lion’s den, but he still had the whole pride to get through. A few seconds could make the difference. That was just how close it was going to be… Nico suddenly reached a doorway and turned off the balcony, descending down a flight of stairs that would take him closer to ground level. Jack re-gathered his senses and sprinted forwards, charging across the open road and aiming for the very edge of the arena. Safety, freedom… he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue. He threw himself down in the children’s playground and crawled underneath the climbing frame, pressing his body flat against the artificial grass. His new olive uniform would help keep him camouflaged. In front of him was a row of detached houses that might have been quite pretty had they not been built in a town called Dead End. Behind was a row of terraced houses; grottier, narrower and about as attractive as a hippopotamus in a leotard. Jack waited, wondering where Nico would appear from. He didn’t have to wait long. Mere seconds after he’d settled down in his hiding place, the garage door of the nearest detached house lifted upwards to reveal a secret passage behind it. And from that secret passage, driving a golf buggy with a large trailer at the back (presumably to carry the body), came Nico. They were so close they would have been able to hear each other sneeze. Nico turned the steering wheel and started driving up the road towards the alleyway. At the same time, Jack scrambled out from underneath the climbing frame and leopard-crawled across the grass to the edge of the playground. A low hedge was keeping him hidden for now, but when it came to entering the secret tunnel he was going to have to be quick. He would be out in the open and if Nico checked his rear view mirrors he’d be spotted easily. Jack stood up, forced his way through the hedge and then sprinted across to the garage. As for Nico, he and the golf buggy were already out of sight, disappearing down the road. Jack turned into the tunnel, crossed the threshold and his heart leapt. He was out! So far he’d made it through. But was that the easiest or the hardest part over with? Jack didn’t know. But he was about to find out. The tunnel was large, open and wide – a bit like a corridor in an airport terminal or the insides of a football stadium. Rectangular in shape, all four sides were made of solid concrete. It didn’t seem to lead anywhere apart from a dead end (ironically enough), so Jack turned off at the first opportunity and climbed a steep flight of stairs up to a higher level. Jack found himself on the balcony and realised this was the route Nico must have taken in order to hop onto the golf buggy. This was good news as at least the area was slightly familiar to him. He decided that his best bet was to stick with what he knew and go back the way he’d come; along the corridor lined with offices and packaging rooms and then down to the prison cells. Hopefully after that or on the way, he’d find a fire exit sign or something. Anything that could lead him to a route outside. Getting to the office corridor meant running round to the next side of the balcony, but with all the soldiers and Nico otherwise occupied deep in the heart of Dead End, no one was paying him any attention. Jack ran as fast as he could to the corridor, all the while casting anxious glances down into the arena and expecting to hear sirens blaring at any moment. The corridor was just as he remembered it; busy in the rooms either side of him but the actual corridor, thankfully, empty. By keeping low and running like a monkey with his knuckles brushing the floor, Jack made sure that no one could see him out of the windows and quickly made it to the far end. Even if someone had appeared and challenged him, he still had the hunting knife close by to silence them. It was a good feeling to run past the prison cells, but this time knowing that it was on his own free will and that he wasn’t being trooped back inside one of them with a pistol shoved in his back. Jack was sure that if he lived beyond today he would have nightmares about the dreadful living conditions inside, but for now the experience was far behind him. As were Nico and the rest of the Black Eagle soldiers. That was when he heard the sobbing. Distraught. Pitiful. Human. It came from several cells behind him and Jack was reminded of the shrill scream he’d heard from earlier on. He’d thought back then that he’d heard someone. Now here was the proof. But Jack couldn’t stop. He was already running against time and even if there was someone inside, there was nothing he could do to help. The door would be locked and you needed a key to open it - a key that Jack didn’t have. He was sorry that he had to abandon the hostage like this and hoped that they too wouldn’t be forced to take part in the Dead End game like him, but right now it was every man for himself. Better one person gets out than none at all. There was a single door at the far end of the passage but it looked promising. Jack pulled down the handle and, opening it slowly for he had no idea what to expect on the other side, pressed an eye to the gap. It was some sort of a warehouse; that was Jack’s first opinion and it was easy to see how he’d deduced this. The room was huge and cavernous like a barnyard, except instead of bundles of hay the room was full of stacks of wooden crates. Some were almost as high as the ceiling; at least five metres high. There was a red crane at one end, a pudgy man in a fluorescent safety jacket sitting in the operator’s cabin. Jack watched as he pulled at some joysticks and the jib swung round slowly, trailing a thick chain and hook underneath. Next to the crane, built into the walls, were five large hatches – all of which were currently open. Conveyor belts like you see at a cashier in a supermarket or at baggage claim in an airport fed into each hatch and on each of them, placed either by the crane or manual workers, were some of the wooden crates. The conveyer belt carried them straight through the wall where, presumably, they were removed further down the line. A more pressing issue for Jack though were the number of guards patrolling the area. Each one was equipped with the same MG4 machine guns as the soldiers from the arena and walked purposely down each aisle of the warehouse, keeping a close eye out for any trouble. However, the big advantage that Jack had was the sheer number of hiding place he had at his disposal. He wasn’t interested in starting a fight with any of the guards. All he wanted to do was escape. Skirting round the edge of the warehouse so there was less chance of him being noticed, Jack stuck close to the crates, ducking down whenever someone looked his way and using the crates as a shield. He’d noticed the exit as soon as he’d entered the warehouse and this was where he was heading now. With any luck, it would lead straight out into the open and he’d be able to start thinking about getting out of here permanently. He was ten metres away from the door when he noticed what was being stored in the crate next to him: HK416 assault rifles and right beside them an unlimited supply of ammunition. It was too good an opportunity to miss. Making sure that no one was watching, Jack quickly stole one of the rifles and then grabbed a handful of full magazines, clipping one into the weapon and then dropping the rest into various pockets. Now not only was he well protected but he was also armed. Things really were beginning to look up. Jack made it to the door and silently slipped out of the warehouse. And joy of joys, he found himself out in the open! The temperature was a harsh ten degrees centigrade and there was a biting wind already nipping at his exposed cheeks, but right then it was the best feeling in the world. Fresh air meant freedom and up until now, that was something Jack was convinced he’d never experience again. Now for the final stage of his escape. The Black Eagle complex was surrounded by a high metal fence, over four metres tall and spiked with barbed wire. There was no getting through that. So if he couldn’t get over, how about under? That was another dead end. The fence had been built on solid concrete, otherwise he might have been able to dig his way through. Beyond the fence was an open field that must have stretched for at least five miles before reaching civilisation. Overgrown weeds with absolutely nothing remotely of significance to be found anywhere in sight, it spoke volumes about the group of people it surrounded. No wonder the Black Eagles had been drawn to such a place when choosing where to locate their headquarters. Positioned where no one would ever bother them or question what they were up to, it was as distant from reality as they were. But none of this was going to help Jack escape. Acutely aware that there were probably security cameras picking up his every move, he sprinted round the edge of the building and found his path suddenly blocked… By five large lorries. Of course, Jack thought, it was Monday. And as Nico had told him, the organisation delivery days were always today and Friday. But only in the evening... that was why the lorries hadn’t left yet – they were still being loaded. The conveyor belts... Jack dashed forward and pressed himself against the outside of the warehouse, craning his head round the corner to see what was going on. Just as he’d expected the conveyor belts finished here and there were even more workers, this time lifting the crates off the belt and then carrying them one by one over to the lorries where they were placed carefully inside ready for delivery. Jack’s attention quickly turned to the lorries themselves and while others would see a large vehicle with a cabin and a huge container for a trailer with black and white diagonal stripes painted on the outside, Jack only saw one thing: a mode of transport. It wasn’t particularly fast and it wasn’t going to have good acceleration or handling either, but it would be strong, tough and it would move. That was good enough for him. Jack had just started running towards the cabin when the siren sounded. Ear-splittingly loud, the noise easily carried across the area of the complex and with its dull, distinct whine there could be no mistaking what it meant: an emergency. An intruder had been detected. They’d discovered the truth, Jack thought, his heart pounding. They knew he wasn’t dead. That he’d been tricking them all along and that he would now be trying to escape from the complex. But while all the workers suddenly became scared and static, frozen still by the seriousness of the situation, Jack carried on moving. He reached the nearest cabin in three big steps and grabbed hold of the door handle, yanking it open and then using the side mirror to swing himself into the driver’s seat. The HK416 was tossed onto the passenger side. The key, the key… where was the key? In his panic, Jack almost failed to realise that it was already in the ignition, ready and waiting for when it was time for the lorries to depart. He yanked it round and the engine rumbled into life, causing the whole cabin to vibrate. Jack slammed the door shut and stared at the controls, trying to fathom how the contraption worked. He’d driven plenty of cars, vans and motorbikes before but never a lorry and, after seeing how complex it all looked, he was beginning to regret picking the large vehicle. But there was no time to change his mind now – some of the workers had heard the engine starting up and were now beginning to hurry towards him; he could see them in his rear view mirrors. Letting his instincts take over, Jack released the handbrake and forced the lorry into first gear, at the same time stamping down on the clutch. The gear stick was a lot more resistant than in a car and it took all Jack’s strength to get it in place, but eventually he heard it click and the lorry lurched forwards. At the same time, the driver’s door swung open as the bravest of the workers made a last ditch attempt to halt Jack in his tracks. Jack turned to the side in shock and saw the worker dangling from the door, flapping about like a piece of ribbon as the lorry picked up speed. “Stop right there!” the worker yelled loudly. With his spare hand, he waved his fist threateningly. “You’ll be hanged for this!” “Go away!” Jack snarled and slammed the door back shut. The force was enough to make the worker lose his grip and Jack watched as he bounced off the concrete, just managing to roll out of the way in time as the lorry’s duel back wheels rumbled past him. It was a struggle, but Jack managed to get the lorry into third gear as he rounded a bend and suddenly found himself face to face with the entrance gate. One way in, one way out – the gate was heavily manned with security guards, most of which had attempted to form a barricade by forming a line across the entrance. The gate itself was a solid slab of steel and without pressing the electronic button inside the side booth it would take at least half a dozen fully grown men to shift it. “Halt!” one of the guards shouted into a microphone and held up the palm of one hand, signalling him to stop. “If you do not halt in the next three seconds, we will open fire.” “Do you worst, wanker,” Jack muttered and urged the lorry to go faster. When it became apparent that the lorry wasn’t going to stop, the guards went berserk. Half let loose with their machine guns, sending hails of bullets smashing into the front windscreen of the lorry. The other half turned and fled, making sure that they were well out of reach of the approaching tyres. It was a good job all the glass in the cabin was bulletproof, otherwise he would have been torn to shreds. The windscreen became a sheet of spider webs and cracks, completely distorting Jack’s view, but that didn’t disconcert him. He just kept the steering wheel dead straight and hoped for the best, praying that he was heading in the right direction. Now the guards turned on the tyres, but they too were designed to be bulletproof. Really, they should have known better. This was a Black Eagle vehicle so of course it would have all the basic defence mechanisms on board to make sure that the driver and cargo would remain safe for as long as possible. Jack had found a small gap in the windscreen that remained crack-free and used it to slightly adjust the wheel so that he was now heading directly towards his target. The lorry moved up into fifth and then sixth gear, travelling at close to thirty miles per hour. The roar of the engine filled Jack’s ears, a crescendo of rage and destruction. “Halt! I say halt!” the guard yelled, but nobody was listening to him now. The lorry was almost right on top of them and there was nothing they could do. The remaining guards who had chosen to remain and fight flung themselves to the side as the lorry stormed straight through them before carrying on right towards the gate. Jack shifted up one last time then gripped the steering wheel so that his knuckles were white, bowing his head so that it was touching his knees and bracing himself for the impact. It was going to be a big one. Smash! The whole cabin rocked back on its axis with a terrific crunch and if Jack had been sitting upright or hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt, he would have been flung straight through the windscreen – bulletproof or not. Even after adopting the safety position, Jack felt the back of his head whack against the bottom of the steering wheel and when he touched the wound with his fingers, sticky red liquid was what he saw. But he was through! The front of the lorry was dented inwards and the sides were peppered with bullet holes, but the engine was still running. Jack shifted back down a few gears and the big engine whined in complaint. But there was no time for mechanical sympathy; Jack forced it onwards and the lorry lurched forward once more, the whole vehicle bouncing up and down as the back wheels negotiated the piles of broken metal poles now lying in the middle of the road. Jack glanced in his side mirror and saw that the guards had resumed their firing. Several shots pinged off the cabin, but barely caused more than a scratch. The whole complex was in a state of panic, people running around like headless chickens not knowing where to go or what to do. Some of the guards were trying to take control but no one was listening. Jack suspected that no one had ever broken out of the complex before – it was a whole new first. And it was working to his advantage. The lorry picked up speed once more and roared down the lonely country road, leaving the enemy far behind. 17DownturnJack was just beginning to congratulate himself on a very successful breakout when the Audis caught up with him. Large, grey and fast with their front grilles snarling like an angry dog, they crested the rise not fifty yards behind him and floored the accelerators. The lorry’s lack of speed was costing him dear, the speedometer barely touching sixty. It had helped him greatly in the actual breakout – Jack doubted any other vehicle bar an armoured tank would have been able to smash through the gates so successfully – but now that he was attempting to outrun the enemy, it was well out of its comfort zone. He hadn’t even made it two thirds of the way down the country road and already the enemy vehicles were upon him. There were five in total and Jack noticed at least three people in each; the driver and two gunmen. They may have been stunned by the suddenness of Jack’s escape, but as Nico had said his men were well-trained and it had only taken seconds for the word to spread that a chaser team should be launched. And now here they were. He may have been out of the Black Eagle complex, but Nico clearly didn’t want him to make it to Berlin alive. And considering all the secret information he now knew, Jack wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised. The first Audi pulled in behind the lorry and Jack watched in disbelief as the man in the passenger seat opened the door and started to scramble out onto the bonnet – all the while with the car speeding along at close to seventy miles per hour! If he fell now, he would die for sure. What on earth were they trying to do? Jack thought. Commit suicide? Somehow jump onto the lorry and hope they held on? Then suddenly Jack realised. The rear of the lorry – it would still be open from when the workers had been filling the trailer with crates. Jack had completely forgotten about it and now the man was trying to jump aboard, guaranteeing that no matter what happened to the other vehicles there would always be at least one person following the lorry. Jack would never get away from them! He hurriedly started scanning the dashboard searching for a button with a downwards arrow that might indicate closing the tailgate. The problem was there were about a hundred buttons from which to choose from, all of which looked almost identical. Jack could have gone for the pressing random buttons technique and hoped that he found the right one, but there was more of a chance that he accidentally hit the emergency engine cut or something. And then he really would be screwed. Jack glanced in the side mirror again to find that the man was now on the bonnet, crouching down low with both hands pressed against the metalwork. Slowly he was shuffling further forwards, preparing himself for the leap. Jack stared down at the dashboard again and this time he saw it: a square button just below the radio. He stabbed down and the whole lorry whirred as the tailgate started to descend. Jack watched the look of horror that quickly appeared on the man’s face and knew that the guy had no choice but to jump now if he wanted any chance of making the landing. Jack would have thought he wouldn’t take the risk, but clearly Nico’s instructions had been strict and definite: the lorry was not to get away. At any cost. As the man tensed his legs and jumped, Jack did the only thing he could do. He spun the steering wheel round and the lorry lurched to one side, dragging the trailer with it. The man had executed his jump perfectly, but now found his landing point whisking off to the side to be replaced by the sharp edge of the trailer and the solid road. The man didn’t even have to raise his arms before his head smacked against the corner of the lorry and he crumpled limply to the ground like a ragdoll. The driver of the car behind him screamed and wrenched the wheel round, desperately trying to avoid hitting his colleague. The Audi skidded sideways, the tyres squealing in a cloud of smoke, and then suddenly flipped over as the driver made the fatal mistake of applying the brakes. The car was launched in the air, barrel-rolling as it skimmed over the concussed man before smashing back down into the road and spinning into the field off to the side. Jack could only imagine what the people inside were experiencing: their whole world would be turned upside down as they were thrown and buffeted about like fruit in a blender. Better them than him, Jack thought. The other four cars steamed up behind him, choosing to abandon their fallen colleague in the middle of the road. He could get help later. For now, the lorry was their primary objective. The gunmen whipped out their weapons and started firing, the bullets hitting the trailer with the sound of hailstones. Jack continued to swerve left and right across the narrow road, hoping to deter his pursuers as well as slowing them down. The trailer fishtailed alarmingly, but he just about managed to keep it under control. One of the Audis suddenly put on an extra burst of speed and stormed up alongside Jack, hoping to shoot into the cabin via the side window. However, what they failed to notice was the trailer swinging back across the road towards them and by the time the driver realised they were doomed… they were doomed. The trailer smashed into the side of the car like a wrecking ball, flinging it up into the air with such ease it could have been made out of paper. It flipped in mid-air then crash landed, the vehicle a steaming wreck. The driver had been knocked unconscious after witnessing the full impact of the original blow while the passenger was clawing at the airbag that had exploded in his face, desperately trying to reach for the door handle. Three down, two to go. By the time the lorry hit top speed, they’d reached the edge of Berlin. The pursuit roared straight through an empty industrial estate, on-looking pedestrians gasping in shock as they sped by. The city centre… that was where Jack needed to aim for. Only then would he have a chance of properly escaping. Not only would the network of roads be more congested and twisty, giving him a better chance of losing his pursuers, but there would also be a lot more people milling around. Jack wasn’t sure how far the Black Eagles were planning to go in order to bring him down, but a shoot out of any sort in the middle of Berlin wasn’t going to go unnoticed. The Black Eagles vs. the Polizei: now there was an intriguing matchup. But first, Jack had to survive that long. Without braking, he yanked the wheel sharply round and the lorry swerved out of the industrial estate and onto the main road. Jack felt the whole cabin tilt alarmingly to the side and as he felt the seatbelt digging into his ribs, preventing him from slipping, he wondered if it was going to topple. For about half a second, he thought it might. But then he straightened the wheel out and the lorry rocked back upright, swaying like a tree in the wind. The three Audis were right on his tail, their headlights glaring like angry pairs of eyes. It was a three-lane motorway with an unlimited maximum speed – an autobahn – and Jack was forced to drive in the outside lane, purely to try and keep the Audis behind him. Car horns were blaring at him from every direction, but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead, only glancing away occasionally to check up on his pursuers. He could feel the whole vehicle straining and groaning, being pushed to the ragged edge of its capabilities. It was a heavy goods vehicle, for god’s sake! It shouldn’t be doing this! Statdzentrum. Jack spotted the road sign up ahead and quickly translated it: city centre. Yes, this was the one he wanted. He didn’t have time to search for the indicators so simply veered into the middle lane, almost taking out a fast-moving Porsche. The Porsche driver slammed on the brakes and threw the car into a last-ditch turn to avoid the lorry, sending the car spinning out of control into the inside lane. Crash! The Black Eagle Audi that had been steaming up the inside rammed straight into the Porsche’s bonnet, the wheels riding up onto the silver metalwork and then leaving solid ground altogether. With the driver unable to do anything but scream and hold on for dear life, for several moments the car was flying through the air, wheels spinning uselessly. The next it had hit a lamppost on the edge of the motorway and exploded in a collision of heat and noise. Charred car parts fell to the road like meteorites, denting any vehicle that strayed too close. “Whoa,” Jack uttered. The explosion was so great he could almost feel the flames singe his skin. The turning rushed up towards him and Jack pulled into the correct lane, the lorry grumbling as it struggled up the slope. Suddenly the two Audis had moved up beside him, one on each side, and Jack ducked as bullets showered both sides of the cabin. The noise was so loud, he couldn’t even hear himself think. He swerved to the right and forced one of the Audis against the side rail, trying to grind them into submission. The smooth metalwork scraped against the barrier, sending sparks flying and scratching new grooves into the car. But it appeared as if they too were armour plated and no matter how much force Jack applied neither the rail nor the car buckled. Jack was forced to concentrate back on the road as they joined another road and crossed over a bridge, a wide river running underneath. And then suddenly the city of Berlin itself was before them, the distinct Berlin Tower rising up from its midst. To Jack, it just seemed like an oversized javelin. He spotted another sign for the city centre and made for it, cutting up a BMW that had been attempting an overtake. The city centre… where the battle would be won or lost. The three vehicles raced into downtown Berlin, all sorts of buildings and street advertisements flashing past Jack’s damaged windows. Berlin was a very interesting city with plenty of history and Jack had always planned of one day visiting the German capital and discovering its secrets. Today wasn’t that day. As much as he would have liked to stop off at the Reichstag or the Berlin wall and enjoy a pleasant walk down to the river, being chased by two vehicles containing angry, vengeful, gun-wielding enemies didn’t make for the most pleasant or relaxing of experiences. Maybe later, Jack thought. Perhaps if he had some spare time on his hands… and so long as his body parts weren’t scattered right across the city. Up ahead was the iconic Brandenburg Gate and, typically, the roads approaching it were heaving with traffic. All tourists, no doubt, Jack thought. Essentially they’d formed a stationary blockade across the whole stretch of road and with all the turnings now behind him, the only way was forwards. Jack only realised how fast he was travelling when he was almost right on top of the traffic jam. Hurtling along at fifty in the equivalent of a bungalow, it was quite a frightening experience. Jack slammed on the brakes and held on for dear life. The massive tyres gripped into the road, squealing like tortured pigs, and he just managed to stop behind the rear car, almost bumper to bumper. Jack sighed with relief. Enemies were one thing, but he didn’t think he could live with innocent civilians on his conscience. But suddenly there was a gigantic shunt from behind as one of the Audis, completely misjudging their braking distance, ploughed into the back of the lorry. Jack’s head smashed back sharply against the headrest and he groaned, praying that he hadn’t suffered serious whiplash. At the same time, the lorry buffeted the cars in front and soon the whole street was full of sirens wailing, horns blaring and aggrieved civilians trying to make themselves heard. Jack rubbed his neck, gritted his teeth and glanced in the side mirror. The car that had hit him from behind was now just a smouldering heap, the whole front bonnet having caved and crumpled inwards like a tin can. Jack could see the silhouettes of the Black Eagle guards inside and they weren’t moving. However, the final Audi was still a threat and even as he looked, two men leapt out from the back and started to sprint towards him, dodging through the traffic. Jack considered trying to outrun them in the lorry but the road was now totally gridlocked. The combination of road accidents had ground everything to a complete halt and no one was going anywhere. The lorry itself was completely cornered in, surrounded on all sides. There was only one thing for it. Leaving the engine idle, Jack grabbed the HK416 from the passenger seat and kicked the cabin door open. The lorry had run its race. Now it was time ditch it. He stumbled out onto the road and looked around, searching for an exit. He spotted a subway entrance not a hundred yards away, staircase leading underground, and although he didn’t have a ticket Jack was sure he would be able to sneak his way in. But before he’d even made it half a dozen paces there was a sudden crack and a wing mirror right behind Jack splintered into shards of plastic. The guards had found him. And now they were taking pot shots… in broad daylight! Jack flung himself to the floor and leaned against the nearest car, hurriedly bringing the rifle up to his chest. Safety off. Sights up. Magazine loaded. He was ready. Shuffling to the rear of the car, Jack suddenly stood up and sprinted across to the next vehicle. At the same time he glanced over his shoulder and saw the three men that were pursuing him, spread out across the road to try and cover all areas. There was no mistaking who they were. No one else around was dressed in olive green army fatigues and cradled MG4 machines gun in their arms. Another round of bullets were spat in Jack’s direction and several car windows blew up, shattering like vases. Jack felt the glass shards shower over him, trickling down his shirt and back. He ducked out of sight again and skirted round several more cars, attempting to sneak up on the guards from the side. He popped up and found that one of them was less than a metre from him, on the other side of a 4x4. They both overcame their shock and scrabbled for their guns; the winner would be the first one who could pull the trigger. The guard raised his gun and let loose, grinning wickedly in triumph. The boy hadn’t stood a chance. Except the boy wasn’t there any longer. Flinging himself once more to the floor, Jack was lying on his belly with a perfect view of the underside of the 4x4. And on the other side, his feet and ankles clearly visible against the vehicles behind, was the guard. Jack whisked round his rifle and fired, aiming straight at the ankles. Bone splintered like wood and the guard crumpled, screaming in agony as he rolled on the road. Jack didn’t wait to see what happened next. He stood up and sprinted back towards the tube station, realising that it was his best chance of escape. Running on foot would be tiring and slow, particularly on his dodgy ankle, while buses were for old age pensioners and would never be there when he needed them. The Berlin subway network – the U-bahn, meaning ‘underground railway’ – included ten different lines, 173 stations and almost a hundred and fifty kilometres of track. If there was any place to try and lose a pair of stalkers, this was it. Jack hurdled the banister and started sprinting down the staircase, shoving pedestrians out of his way so that he could try and move faster. Behind him he could hear the two guards yelling instructions at each other, madly chasing after him. Jack descended into the darkness then emerged in a large lobby, corridors sprouting off like the numbers on a clock. He decided to follow the majority of the crowd and took an immediate left, charging towards the line of ticket barriers and squeezing in behind a young woman dressed in a red coat just as she fed in her ticket. The flaps opened and the woman removed her ticket before shuffling forwards through the opening. Jack stuck right behind her, his hands almost touching her waist they were so close, then darted round her and sprinted forward as soon as they’d cleared the barrier. It was a trick that Jack had witnessed plenty of times before on European subways and the great thing about it was that so many people did it, no one really cared. What would be the point of catching a single wasp when you were being attacked by a whole swarm? All the times before though Jack had had a ticket so this was the first time he’d actually performed it himself. He was glad it had worked and even as he sprinted down the subsequent escalator, he knew he must be pulling out a lead. “Move! Get out of the way!” As if right on cue, Jack heard the two guards’ voices shouting from behind as they struggled to keep up. Jack stuffed the rifle underneath his shirt so that nobody would see it and took the second left when he reached the bottom, hoping that the two guards would take other routes. He raced onto the crowded platform and looked up at the information board. Next train in five minutes? Sod that! Jack sprinted down the platform looking desperately for another exit, but there wasn’t one. The platform just stopped as it reached the entrance to the train tunnel, a solid brick wall blocking his path. A dead end. Jack whirled round. Just as the two guards stepped onto the platform. Jack saw them up ahead about twenty metres away. So they had managed to follow him down here! Jammy gits. Jack watched as the two men exchanged words and then split up to search for him, one heading up the platform towards where Jack should have gone and the other one taking the opposite route… striding purposefully towards where Jack was now cornered. The guard hadn’t seen him yet, but it would only be a matter of time. Yes, there were a lot of people around, but they were only looking for one person. Jack got ready to pull his gun out, but then had a better idea. Suicidal or not, Jack preferred it to charging all guns blazing through a crowd of locals. Crouching down slightly so that he was hidden by most of the people around him – thankfully, no one paid him any attention - Jack started to walk back up the platform and towards the approaching guard. Because of all the civilians in the way it was slow progress, but within seconds the guard was just several metres away. At this point, Jack shuffled to the side so that they wouldn’t collide and then crouched down lower; muscles tensed, ready to strike. The guard stepped alongside him, head still facing up as he scanned the crowd for a sign of Jack. He didn’t even know that there was someone there before they’d shoved him in the leg, sending him toppling off the platform and down onto the railway track below. “Schei?e!” the guard swore loudly before his back hit the central rail and he lay still, limbs flopping like a fish. Jack used the sudden screaming and commotion as the perfect cover to stand up and start sprinting for the exit. Hopefully someone would fish the guard out before the next train arrived, but if they didn’t… oh well, he probably deserved it. The platform would just be getting an unexpected new paintwork: shade of crimson. Jack could see the other guard hurrying towards him from down the platform as he took the exit out of here, hurling foul abuse and shoving anyone who came within twenty inches of him. Jack sprinted back into the confluence where all the platforms diverged from and stared at each option, trying to work out which one to pick. Machine gun fire sounded from behind him and several people went down screaming. There could only be one person responsible. And then Jack suddenly heard what he’d been waiting for: the screech of wheels and the rush of air as a tube pulled in to one of the platforms. But which one? Jack trusted his instincts and sprinted across the hallway, taking the one in the very opposite corner. He stared down the corridor as he ran and his heart leapt; yes, there was the train. Doors already open. People already filing in. More screams from behind told him that the guard was still in pursuit. It was going to be a close one. Jack had already got himself trapped on a platform once before and escaped by the skin of his teeth. He wouldn’t be so lucky next time. If he missed this train now, he was as good as doomed. Suddenly the alarms sounded to signal that the doors were closing, that the tube was about to pull away from the platform. No way was that fifteen seconds, Jack exclaimed! It had been like five! With a final burst of energy, he charged onto the platform and flung himself at the open gap in the train just as the doors started to slide close. A middle-aged couple shrieked as Jack’s head and shoulders crashed straight into them, knocking them off their feet. But Jack had other worries. His upper body might be in, but that wasn’t the rest of him. Jack retracted his legs in the nick of time, the doors so close to trapping them that Jack could feel it as they brushed his toes. Ignoring the mumble of disapproval from the passengers around him, Jack stood up and stared out of the window, just as the final guard ran onto the platform. His cheeks were bright red, his clothes were bathed in sweat and blood, but that was nothing compared to the look of dismay in his eyes as he watched the tube roll forwards into the tunnel. Jack smiled triumphantly and gave him a little wave. The guard scowled angrily, but there was nothing he could do. Not anymore. Jack had got away. The target was gone. The tube picked up speed and plunged into the safety of the darkness. *Jack got off the tube several stops later at Storkower Street and walked back out into the open. The weather was now clear and pleasant; a perfect afternoon for a spot of sightseeing. But Jack didn’t have time. His plate was still as piled high with things to do as Nico Muller’s had been with German food. He might be out of trouble – for now – but the others back in Hong Kong most definitely weren’t. For them, the danger was only just beginning. Somehow he had to warn them. Tell them what he knew. Make sure they were safe. After dumping the rifle in a rubbish bin (what a shock that would be for the bin man!) Jack picked up a free map of Berlin from a tourist information office and looked up where he was. Damn, right in the centre. There’d be civilians everywhere. He needed to get out of the city, head towards the outskirts. Only then he could he start making some arrangements. But first things first: him. Food, drink, a first aid kit and a new jumper – all things he desperately needed if he wasn’t going to faint from exhaustion during his excursion across Berlin. All the action of the past few hours had completely drained Jack and he hadn’t had anything to eat since the meal of fresh meat early on in the morning. It was the same story with drink. Jack must’ve sweated about half the water in the Elbe River after everything that he’d been through and he felt seriously dehydrated. The first aid kit was obvious: his sprained ankle was in a bad way and needed a strapping while the cuts and bruises all over his body could do with some tending. As for the jumper, Jack’s reasoning was simple: now that he’d stopped running and was just standing in the army fatigues he was bloody freezing! Getting some money was no problem. Jack had known how to pick pocket someone for as long as he could remember: all it required was a wise judgement and a quick, delicate sleight of hand. Jack had both. He snatched two wallets and a mobile phone in quick succession and set about buying all his required items from the nearby shopping centre. He felt bad about having to steal from innocent pedestrians – they’d done nothing wrong and didn’t deserve it; if anything, it was the Black Eagle guards that should pay – but if it was going to help Jack save hundreds of lives then it would be worth it all day long. *Stomach now content on a snack of frankfurter hot dog and chips, Jack sneaked back onto the tube and took a ride towards the outskirts of the city. His ankle was heavily strapped up which made walking awkward, but in the long term it would help it to recover faster. Jack got off at the very last station on the line and walked out into a small suburb. The buildings were drab, grey concrete and the whole atmosphere somehow felt cold and lifeless. Jack pulled his new jumper closer around his chest and set off, heading towards a large open field that he’d noticed on the train. The sign read: ‘Privaten Grundstücken’ – ‘Private Land’, but no one seemed to be about so Jack perched himself on top of one of the fences and pulled out the mobile phone. It was a good job Jack could remember MI6’s emergency hotline, otherwise he would have been totally and utterly screwed. Stuck out here in the middle of the German wilderness with no permanent mode of transport, they were the only group of people that he could rely on to help him out. “Lightning Electronics, how can I help you?” Jack’s spirits leapt as he recognised the voice of Ralph Muchamore speaking back to him. Ralph was one of the MI6 Headquarters’ main receptionists, responsible for answering any inbound calls and then relaying them onto their respective targets – but only if he deemed them trustworthy enough. He and Jack were on good terms and Jack knew he could rely on Ralph to get the job done. “Ralph! It’s agent J048, currently stuck on the outskirts of Berlin. I need emergency transport to fly me over to Hong Kong immediately.” Jack heard the rattle of keys being entered into a computer before Ralph quickly got back to him. “Jack, good to hear from you again. And what the hell did you just say?” “I’m stuck on the outskirts of Berlin without any money or transport. I need to be flown over to Hong Kong immediately – there are people’s lives at risk.” “Okay, Jack. Just calm down and answer these simple questions: where are you exactly in Berlin?” “Uh, near Bernau tube station. That’s in the north of the city, I think.” “Sure is,” Ralph replied, quickly looking it up on the web. “Now what’s your physical situation? Do we need to bring emergency first aid over?” “Stable. The situation’s stable. Few cuts and bruises here and there, but nothing major. However, speaking on the subject of bringing things over, can I request a range of weapons to be added as well?” “Of course,” Ralph replied. “And perhaps a few packets of crisps? Hong Kong is an awfully long way from here.” Ralph managed a wry chuckle. “I’ll see to it straightaway. Stay put, Jack, and don’t do anything stupid. Transport will be over there to pick you up within two hours.” “Make sure it’s fast,” Jack added. “Like… really fast. I don’t know how much time I’ve got left.” “Keep an eye out for it then. It might be so fast that you don’t even see it.” Ralph ended the call and Jack was wrapped in silence once more. 18False DawnTen hours earlier…“Ladies and gentlemen, please take a seat.” Calvin King nodded to his group of senior members and they all sat down around the meeting table. Brain and Travis were on one side, Grimes and Scarlett on the other. As usual, King was sitting at the head, looking as serious as he had ever been before in his life. It would have been unwise to hold the private meeting upstairs in the clubhouse, especially after everything that had been said and heard concerning the traitor. Even if some of it might have been lies as King was starting to suspect, he couldn’t be sure. After all, back then it had sounded possible enough. He couldn’t take the risk, not at such a delicate stage in proceedings, and so had instead decided to house the meeting in his very own personal office; Floor Twenty-four, Tower Block 1, Central District. It was the only placed he deemed safe enough. In total, the four adults sitting in front of him couldn’t have been inside more than perhaps a dozen times in the whole history of K.O. That was how secretive it was. And that was why, for certain, no one would be able to listen in on what was about to be said… “Today is Monday,” King announced, filling the room with his voice. “And tomorrow morning, without fail, the second delivery will embark from K.O’s secret base and complete its journey to Macau. That is where the Sheikh and I have arranged to meet and this time he shall not be disappointed, understand? As he has already expressed to me, he was most upset by the tardiness and shoddiness of the last delivery. He understands and accepts that, for the most part, events were out of our own hands, but even so… our clients expect better quality and service and they are absolutely right to do so. Brain… I don’t want this happening again, you hear? It’s your job to make sure that this operation goes off without a hitch.” “Yes, sir,” Brain nodded, and gulped nervously. Sitting beside him, Travis let off a discrete smirk when no one was looking. “Last evening, when all the current full members were assembled in the clubhouse, I told them that the delivery would be taking place on Tuesday afternoon and so to get ready in preparation for the off,” King continued. “I also told them that to get to Macau – our target destination – we would be taking another convoy of vehicles round the ring road that encircles the Zhujiang River Estuary – the stretch of water that separates the two different provinces. They would have gone home last night believing this was absolutely true and no doubt you four would have done too. However, I can reveal to you now that everything I said yesterday was lies. It was nothing more than a fa?ade to hide the real truth.” “You mean… we’re not travelling by road?” Scarlett asked. “After the last disaster? Absolutely not!” King exclaimed. “You’re supposed to learn from your mistakes and that is what I’m trying to do. Also, we do not leave on Tuesday afternoon, we leave on Tuesday morning. Just minutes ago, I sent round texts to all the members stating that the set off time would be 15:00, but that they should get to the clubhouse for 09:00 in order to be fully prepared for the big delivery. In fact, there will be no time for preparation – that is being done today as I speak. Instead, the team will set off almost straightaway, picking up the supply of goods and then heading for Macau. Hopefully then, if the enemy do somehow find out about our original delivery plans, not only will they be bamboozled by the change in transport but also the change in time. We’ll be roaring past them already halfway on our journey to Macau while they’ll still be crawling out of their stupid German tents.” “You mention a change in transport,” Grimes asked calmly. “What mode to be precise? Or are you not allowed to reveal it to us for security reasons?” Luckily, King missed the sarcasm. “Boats, ladies and gentlemen. Boats. With a total nautical distance of roughly fifty miles from our secret base to the port in Macau, the route will be a lot, lot shorter than if we go by road. Also you can eliminate the problem of getting stuck in traffic and, most importantly, being sandwiched between two brick walls as the convoy was last time.” He avoided glaring at the people around him. “Aside from me, you are the only people to now know this secret. When you leave this building, don’t tell anyone because I need it to be a surprise. If there is still a traitor in our midst, we can’t let him know the actual delivery details until the very last moment when it will be too late for them to do anything. And to make absolutely sure, I am taking the extra precaution of removing and confiscating all electrical devices from their persons, most notably their mobile phones. All members must hand their phone over to me or face the consequences. This shall take place tonight at the clubhouse and they are not to get them back until tomorrow afternoon once the delivery is successfully completed.” “What if the traitor doesn’t turn up?” Scarlett asked. “So close to the start of the second delivery?” King replied, raising his eyebrows. “I very much doubt it. They’ll probably be leaping at every chance they get.” “What’s stopping them from just going out and buying a new pay-as-you-go?” Brain then asked. “Will you shut it with the questions?” Travis growled. “Calvin’s obviously thought it all through carefully so stop trying to undermine him will you?” “Because, Brain,” King said calmly, “I am going to check them all again when they turn up for the delivery. If any new phones have been bought or brought along since the previous evening, they too shall be confiscated. You have nothing to fear and Ryan is correct when he says that I have considered all the options and this is the best solution to our problems.” King nodded gratefully at Travis and the senior member smiled smugly into his hands. “So, if I find out that anyone else knows even the slightest bit about all that I’ve just said…” King stared seriously at each of the senior members in turn. “…I will know roughly who’s responsible. But I trust you four; you have been with the organisation for a very long time and have rarely ever let me down. That is why I see it fit that you should know and the others shouldn’t. But no one is safe… not anymore. And on that warning, I bid you farewell.” *Ryan Travis was the last to leave the office. Glancing one last time back at Calvin King and smiling at how foolish the old man was to keep trusting him, he politely said goodbye and took the lift back down with the others to the ground floor. “I expect I’ll see you guys later at the club,” Travis said and then they went their separate ways. Travis took a taxi straight back home; a reasonable-sized flat overlooking Victoria Park. As far as accommodation came it was pretty decent; a nice view, five rooms, luxury furnishing and space for all his weight-lifting and gym equipment. In fact, it easily had everything that Travis needed, plus lots more besides. But the point was, he could have had more. So much more. If only he had a higher rank, more power and thus could earn a higher salary. It wasn’t so much as needing or wanting… it was for self-pride and satisfaction. Take Brain for example; he lived in a luxury penthouse several blocks away where he could hang out with movie stars, wealthy businessman and A-list celebrities daily. The guy didn’t even have a family to share it with! Brain had far more wealth and luxury than he needed, but that didn’t stop him, did it? He could afford to flaunt all his money about like he was the richest man in the world or something. And as for King… True, he had been the one that had created the organisation in the first place and Travis respected that, but the guy didn’t even do much of the work nowadays. It was the likes of him and Grimes that were forced to do all the dirty work, doing the same shitty delivery jobs as the low-life members and then only being called up to the big boys’ table when Brain or King felt like it. Sometimes they were treated like scum – always putting their life on the line in the name of the company. Yet, King was a billionaire and he, Ryan Travis, was not. How was that fair? Had he ever seen King do a delivery? Never. It was always easy-peasy paperwork and meeting up with ‘important’ clients. And where had King been when the ambush had struck the convoy? Sitting in the clubhouse that’s what, no doubt scoffing his face with crisps or beer. In what way did his role justify him being the richest and more powerful criminal in the world? People like Travis were the ones that did the real work, the cogs in the wheel that kept it all turning and running smoothly. If anyone should be the powerful billionaire here it was him. The Black Eagles were offering him the chance to change all that. To become the powerful figure that he deserved to be. A new dawn of illegal trading would rise and he, Ryan Travis, would be at the spearhead of it. That was why he was switching sides, jumping ship. That was why he was going to betray King again. When Travis opened the door to his flat, there was a man waiting inside. He’d arrived uninvited, but somehow Travis wasn’t surprised to see him. In fact, deep down he’d probably expected it. “Good meeting?” Franz asked. Travis nodded and dumped his satchel down on the leather sofa. “You could say that.” Franz closed the door and took a long swig of his beer; he must have decided to raid the fridge while he was waiting, Travis realised. Germans… couldn’t be without alcohol for more than a few minutes. “How did you get in?” Travis asked casually. Franz fished into his pocket and pulled out something shiny. “Spare key,” he explained. “Easy enough to steal from the reception area downstairs if you know your stuff as well as I do.” “Ah,” Travis murmured and made a mental note of hiding it as soon as Franz had gone. He didn’t like people breaking into his flat, particularly if they then go and help himself to his beers. At least he wouldn’t have to offer his guest a drink now. “So, are you going to tell me what King had to say or not?” Franz asked. “Gimme a moment,” Travis said and switched off his phone, just in case someone had managed to bug it. “You got a notepad and pen to write things down?” “Of course.” Franz pulled out his iPhone and clicked on notepad, his fingers hovering over the keys. “Go ahead.” And so Travis explained everything that King had just revealed to him, putting extra detail and emphasis on the actual details of the delivery. “Tuesday morning?” Franz repeated. “Did he give a specific time?” “He said he plans for everyone to meet up for 09:00 exactly. The delivery could set off at any point after that.” Franz nodded and typed the information down. “Whenever it is, we’ll be ready and waiting,” he said. “I’m counting on it,” Travis murmured back. When Travis was done, Franz saved the information, tucked his phone away and nodded. “Good job,” he congratulated. “I’m sure Nico will be most eager to hear this.” “The boy… Jack Bennett,” Travis said. “Is he still alive?” “Why?” Franz sneered. “Not feeling guilty are you?” “No, I just want to know when he’s gone so that I can celebrate him not interfering with our plans again. It was all his fault that the first ambush went tits up.” Franz checked his watch and grinned. “He’s still alive… but won’t be for much longer.” “I’m glad to hear it.” Franz tipped his head back and finished his beer, crumpling the can in his giant fists and then chucking it at the nearest bin. He missed by several inches, the can bouncing off the carpet and rolling behind a chair. “Oops.” “You’ll be going now?” “Yeah, yeah, of course.” Franz walked over to the door and crossed the threshold. “Hang on, my spare keys!” Travis called. “Oh, I think I’ll keep hold of them,” Franz replied. “Just in case we need to see each other again.” He smiled sickly and started to walk off down the corridor. “Don’t let King find out the truth, Ryan… now that really would be a shame.” *It was Monday evening and for the second night in succession, Ella Fox was forced to walk to the Golden Sun clubhouse alone. Aside from the big upcoming delivery, Jack’s sudden and mysterious disappearance had been the hottest talking point at the clubhouse bar none. Not even news of Newcastle United beating Sunderland in the North-East derby could distract them from their various theories. Some members thought that he’d been kidnapped by the Black Eagles or one of the triad groups and would be sold back to them for a huge, extortionate ransom. But that didn’t make any sense: money wasn’t something that either group needed and it wouldn’t even make a dent in K.O’s bulging bank account. Alternatively, some members suggested that he may have been picked up by the local police and was currently awaiting trial for illegal weapon smuggling and facing a prison sentence of up to ten years. But if the police had nabbed him, someone would have heard about it. It would be plastered all over the news and Jack would have at least been allowed a mandatory phone call. Next came the weird and the wacky, from people who were seemingly taking the whole situation as just one big joke: Jack had been abducted by aliens, Jack had run off with a prostitute, Jack had gone for a swim and been dragged off to sea, Jack had gone on a city break to Singapore… etcetera… etcetera… Fill in any ridiculous scenario available and someone had probably mentioned it (Luke McQueen more often than not). Ella hadn’t laughed at these in the slightest, but they weren’t the nastiest suggestions she’d heard. Oh no, there had been far, far worse… Because finally came the cynical ideas and these were the ones that Ella really despised, the ones that had made her blood boil and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Predictably, Grimes had been the ringleader. If Ella didn’t know better, she would have said that he was the real traitor, not OJ. It had started off with random remarks that Jack might have somehow been involved with the Black Eagle ambush and quickly, over the course of yesterday evening, it had escalated into full-blown accusations. Several members were now convinced that Jack was the real traitor and that he’d legged it as soon as he realised that King was taking serious action. They seemed to have completely forgotten that Jack may well have been the one that had saved their arses down in the valley. Eventually Ella had got fed up and had screamed at them exactly what she thought of all their snide taunts and remarks. Grimes had just laughed. So then she’d left for home, angry and early. But really she didn’t know what to think. Like everyone else, she hadn’t seen or heard from Jack since he’d disappeared on Saturday evening. She would have thought that of all the people, if he was safe and well, he would have at least let her know. So did that mean he wasn’t safe and he wasn’t well? Or was he simply ignoring her? Whatever other people’s opinions, Ella was sure that wasn’t the case. She’d been living in the same household as Jack for two months now and she knew what he was like. He wouldn’t have disappeared without a reason or without at least telling someone why he’d done it. Which only left one conclusion: he’d been kidnapped. Of course, Sophie and Lancaster had blown their stack when they heard the news. Losing an agent was the last thing they needed at this stage; just as the mission was beginning to progress along nicely. More than that, it was the agent that had been best placed to find out more information about the K.O infrastructure. It was a huge setback to say the least, but that wasn’t what the whole family were most worried about. Safety always came first and Lancaster and Sophie had agreed with Ella almost instantly: Jack must have been captured. No other explanation was plausible. Which meant that, wherever he was being held, most likely he was in serious danger. Word had been sent to MI6 immediately and in the commencing few hours, the whole organisation had been on high alert. Calls had been made to every single MoD contact situated in Eastern Asia while all transport systems and passport files had been hacked into to see if Jack’s name could be discovered. But every single time the result had been the same: nothing. If Jack had been taken out of the country, it must have been done on private transport. However, one useful thing came out of it; the Hong Kong Police quarters were contacted and using special clearance, the names of all people arrested within the past twenty-four hours were revealed. The name Jack Bennett hadn’t been one of them. So at least that narrowed it down slightly; he hadn’t been taken by the cops. Even Mr. Grey got in on the act, but in the end it was all in vain. Despite working tirelessly through the night not a single clue had been discovered and the research team had hit a definitive dead end. It really did appear as if, somehow, Jack’s identity had been completely wiped off the face of the earth. Maybe the guy that had suggested alien abductions was right, Ella had thought glumly. There was even talk that the whole mission would be plugged; one agent had been lost – why risk three others? But in the end Lancaster had managed to convince them otherwise; despite Jack’s loss they were still in a good position through Ella’s involvement with K.O and with the second delivery just hours away, it made no sense to quit now. Besides, Ella had a feeling that one way or another, the second delivery would mark the end anyway. Reluctantly, Mr. Grey and the MoD had agreed. But any more trouble and the mission was off. Finite. So that was the situation now as Ella took a deep breath and walked into the K.O clubhouse. Her behaviour from the evening before would still be fresh in people’s memories and she was preparing herself for more taunts from Grimes and the gang. However, it was so busy inside the building that barely anyone noticed her enter. It seemed as if every single member had converged on the Golden Sun tonight and Ella suspected it might have something to do with the delivery tomorrow. It was like Christmas on the annual calendar and no one wanted to miss it. Eventually she found Charlotte and Charlie sitting in a corner looking miserable and sat down with them. She struggled to think up something encouraging to say. As the last person to have seen Jack in the flesh before he’d disappeared, Charlotte was more emotionally upset than most. At first when he’d failed to return back to the clubhouse after snogging her in the alleyway, she’d been angry more than anything else. She’d called him a heartless pig and threatened to dump him again. But then she’d started overhearing the rumours that Jack had disappeared and, all of a sudden, the landscape had changed. Now ever since she’d been bawling her eyes out, begging and harassing anyone who she thought might know something. Unfortunately, that had included Ella. Charlotte had even directly requested that her dad hire a SWAT team to go and hunt for Jack, effectively pleading that he did everything in his power to make sure he was found. King had ended up promising that he’d do his best, but really there wasn’t much he could do. As far as where Jack could have gone, the trail was about as cold as liquid nitrogen. Ella smiled sympathetically at Charlotte and patted her on the back. Her friend barely seemed to notice. Ella realised it must have taken real guts for her to come to the clubhouse on a day like this. Either that or she was planning to drown her sorrows over half a barrel of scotch. “Any news of Jack?” Charlie asked, but he’d barely even uttered the name before Ella shook her head. “Don’t you think I’d look a bit more excited if there was?” she muttered. “Oh, right. Yeah.” “Not even-” Charlotte began. “Nothing,” Ella said firmly. She sighed and let her shoulders drop, staring down at the table as if in shame. “Sorry, Charlotte, I didn’t mean to snap. But you know that you’d be the first I’d tell if anything did crop up, don’t you?” “If anything does crop up,” Charlotte murmured into her drink. “We can live and hope.” Just then the whole room hushed down and Ella turned in her seat. Calvin King had appeared from upstairs and was now standing by the bar, Brain as ever by his side. He clapped his hands and waited for silence. “I’m glad to see so many of you here today,” he said, studying the crowd with watchful eyes. “It bodes well for tomorrow afternoon once the delivery gets under way. It is also good because, before any of you leave tonight, there is one other thing that I would like to do.” King turned around and appeared to pick something up off the counter; something small and rectangular. He turned back to face the crowd and held it up in the air. “Mobile phones,” he announced. “Or indeed any other electrical device with a texting or calling facility. In light of recent events, I have deemed it necessary that, as a precaution, all electronics should be confiscated from each of you. Don’t worry: we don’t plan to do anything with them and it won’t be for very long – only about twenty-four hours until the delivery has been completed – but to make sure that the same thing doesn’t happen as last time, we need to take drastic measures. As we all know, last time the traitor contacted the enemy via mobile and how did that turn out? By eliminating this threat, we eliminate the risk of another ambush. Now doesn’t that sound good?” A murmur of voices rippled through the crowd and Ella could see some people nodding their heads. “There will be no questioning my decision so would you all like to line up facing me with your electronics in your hand: mobile phones, iPods, mp3s… I want the lot.” “Like an evil Father Christmas!” someone shouted out from the back of the hastily assembled queue. “Hilarious, McQueen. Real funny. All your electronics will be deposited in a plastic bag with your name on it so that there can be no mix ups and they’ll all be then placed inside a secure vault for safe-keeping. You see, nothing to worry about.” The first person – Baz – stepped forward and held out his electronics: a Motorola phone and an iPod shuffle. Standing next to King, Brain took both of them and placed them into a see-through plastic bag with a seal at the top which he pressed. Then he pulled out a marker pen and scrawled Baz’s name on the front. “Now, arms up so that I can give you a proper pat down,” King ordered. “What?” Baz exclaimed. “Since when was this in the script?” “Just shut up and do as I say,” King snapped. “Don’t think for one moment that I’m doing this for fun.” Baz obeyed him immediately and King started patting down his upper body, making sure all his pockets were empty before moving onto the lower torso and legs. Someone wolf-whistled as King reached round and started tapping Baz on the bum. “I’m making sure he isn’t concealing anything in his back pockets,” King growled, his face bright red. He finished off by asking Baz to remove his shoes and once happy that they were empty, told him to move. “Go on, you’re clean,” he said. “Wait in the games room like last time for us to finish.” Altogether, to work through every single member took almost an hour and a whole half of the evening. King insisted on being painstakingly accurate, even asking some people to open their mouths or come back if he wasn’t one hundred and ten per cent sure. Ella managed to get through quicker because a second line had formed alongside the first – this one for females only. This time it was Scarlett responsible for doing the check up with Ryan Travis standing alongside to help with the bags. Aside from the senior members, the only two people that weren’t checked out were Charlie and Charlotte. Still sitting at the back of the bar with their drinks, no one really paid them any attention. It was as if they weren’t even there. However, Ella somehow suspected that suited them. Once all the members had been conveyed into the gym, Calvin King addressed them one last time. “Thank you all for your cooperation,” the Head of K.O said. “As I say, you will get all your belongings back by tomorrow. But for now, have a good evening, enjoy yourself and make sure you’re back in bed for a good night’s rest. There’s a big day ahead of us… and even that’s the understatement of the century.” He looked at the group and nodded, work done. “Goodnight.” As soon as the crowd was dismissed and had started swarming back into the bar, chattering among themselves about all the hassle, Ella found that Calvin King was walking up to her. “Ella, do you mind if I have a quick word?” he asked. “Uh, sure, not at all.” King smiled gratefully and pulled her to one side. There were still some people in the room starting up a game of snooker or playing darts so they kept their voices low. “Any news on Jack’s whereabouts yet?” King asked hopefully. Ella sighed; she should have been expecting it. “You’re not the first person to ask me that this evening,” she replied. “And?” “Sorry, not a word.” King swore under his breath. “Damn, we’re going to miss him tomorrow. Badly. Might not be the biggest or strongest chap in the world but shit can he do some damage with those fighting skills of his.” Ella shrugged, trying to stay positive. “There are others. I’m sure they’ll be ready to step up to the plate.” “Yeah, perhaps.” King grimaced and swore again. “The problem is, Ella, we don’t have many more members left. The first ambush wiped half of us out and I haven’t had time to recruit. I’ve had to rope in a dozen standard-trained security guards from the secret base as an emergency backup and even then we don’t have nearly enough, not if the Black Eagles turn up with a whole army as they did last time.” King looked anxious and Ella was beginning to understand why. “I tell you, if the enemy do show up, we’re really going to have be on our game to get the better of them this time.” “Don’t worry, sir. We won’t let you down.” And then suddenly, out of nowhere, she had a brainwave. “Hang on, if it’s extra members that you want then I can help you out.” “You can?” “Yeah, my two younger brothers – Fred and Toby. You must’ve met them. Like both Jack and I, they’re black belts in karate and much stronger than first meets the eye. I suppose it must be a family thing.” “Wait a minute. How old are they?” “Sixteen and fourteen.” “Fourteen? No way, Ella, I can’t take him. I just can’t. Sixteen’s possible, but fourteen? Is he even out of nappies yet?” “Whoa, I’d be careful what you say, sir. Anyone but you, and Toby would probably take your head off for saying that.” “Really?” “Sure. My youngest brother – he’s a bit like a terrier. Small, innocent, but he’s got a really strong bite if you ever make him angry.” King seemed to consider this for a moment, but then shook his head. “I can’t take kids into battle, Ella. What if they get hurt?” “They won’t get hurt. I’ll keep an eye on them.” King still didn’t look convinced so she tried a different tactic. “Look, sir. You’re desperate – that’s clear enough. You need numbers fast and here I am offering you two new recruits. So what’s the problem? They’re teenagers, for God’s sake, so they’re hardly going to sell you out to the Russian mafia and you probably won’t even have to pay them. The chance to shoot up some bad guys like they do on Call of Duty or whatever it’s called will be a prize in itself.” King stared up at the ceiling and Ella sighed. “Sir, think about it. You don’t really have a choice.” “There’s always a choice.” “Not this time there isn’t.” King continued to stare at the ceiling before finally looking down and nodding. “Fine, fine, you’re right – I’m bloody desperate. Call them now and tell them to get down here this evening. I’ll give them a quick onceover and, if I like the look of them, then they can take part in the delivery. Is that fair?” “Very. But, sir, you’ve got my phone. How can I call them?” “Oh, for God’s sake!” King went over to the bucket that contained all the plastic bags and after finding the one with Ella’s name on it, brought it back over and handed her the phone. “Make it quick,” he said, “Then come back with it straightaway, otherwise people will start accusing me of favouritism.” Ella dialled Sophie’s number and, once she’d picked up, explained to her the new situation. “No way!” Sophie exclaimed with delight, prompting Ella to turn down the volume and shuffle away from King so that he didn’t hear. “This is just the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.” “Yeah, so go on, tell them. King wants to see them at the clubhouse tonight.” “Oh right, of course.” Dropping the phone on the kitchen counter, Sophie raced off to tell the two boys. Two minutes later she was back, out of breath but with spirits raised. “I’ll drive them down there straightaway,” she said. “Excellent,” Ella replied. “Tell them I’ll see them soon then.” “Will do.” Sophie hung up and Ella gave King back her phone. “So they’re coming?” he asked. “Just you try and stop them.” King nodded and puffed out his cheeks. “Tell me when they arrive,” he said. “In the meantime, I’d better lock these things safely away.” He nodded down at the large bucket in his hand and smiled at Ella wearily. Suddenly, the Head of K.O looked very tired. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” *Heeding Calvin King’s advice, most of the other members had gone home for the night. This left Ella alone as she anxiously waited in the empty bar for King, Fred and Toby to reappear. How long had they been up there for now? Twenty minutes? Thirty? It was hard to tell. Ella had lost all track of what was going on around her. Then suddenly the door by the bar opened and King strode out, Toby and Fred trundling in his wake like loyal servants. Their faces were impassive, but even if there had been extreme emotions it wouldn’t have taught Ella anything. Like all junior agents, they would have been trained in the fine art of hiding your feelings from show – useful if you didn’t want people to know what you were really thinking. “Well?” she asked, standing up from her seat. “They performed for me a basic routine of karate moves and then weapon handling,” King explained. “I must say, I was very impressed. The straw dummy barely had anything left inside it once these two had finished. And tell me, when did they learn to use guns as efficiently as that?” “Army cadets,” Ella replied, recalling their programmed answer in an instant. “We all went.” “Ah, that explains it then.” “So they’re in?” “With flying colours.” Ella smiled and, out of the corner of her eye, could see that Fred and Toby were smiling too. Behind Calvin King’s back they high-fived each other and then touched knuckles. “Maybe after all this is over, I should make you my chief recruitment scout,” King continued, now even smiling himself despite the heavy bags underneath his eyelids. “Would I be getting a pay rise?” “Almost certainly.” Ella smiled. “I’ll consider it.” “Yeah, you do that.” King shook her hand and then turned back towards the two boys. They were each carrying two plastic bags full of their own electronics which they handed to King. “Toby, Fred, it’s been good doing business with you. Now go home and get some well-earned rest. I’ll be seeing all three of you tomorrow. Without fail.” 19Up In The AirJack must have somehow drifted off because the next thing he knew, a loud whirring noise was forcing him awake. Wearily he opened one eye, reluctant to be dragged back into the real world of danger, enemies and death. Why couldn’t he just have a bit of peace and quiet for once? But the sight that greeted him was enough to jolt anyone awake. In an instant, Jack was on his feet and waving as the white Bell UH-1H Huey Mark II circled up above him, like a soaring eagle searching for its next prey. He noticed the pilot raise his hand in recognition and then the helicopter suddenly swooped down towards the field. Jack couldn’t even begin to imagine what the locals were making of it all. After all, it wasn’t every day that a military-spec helicopter interrupted your mid-afternoon nap by flying directly over your roof. Looking back, Jack could see several civilians had gathered in the street and were shielding their eyes with a hand, staring up into the sky and wondering what on earth was happening. Surely it couldn’t be World War III? Jack stood back so that he wouldn’t be hit or buffeted by the rotor blades and the helicopter settled down beside him, sending blades of grass whipping up in a tornado. The pilot formed an ‘O’ with his fingers, signalling that everything was okay, and the blades started to slow. Jack hurried forwards. The heavy door on the side of the helicopter slid open as he approached and Jack almost fell back with surprise when he saw the person who had opened it. Fair hair, blue eyes, beaming smile, scars… if the man hadn’t been over twice his age, Jack could have been staring at his own reflection. James. His father. “Dad! What the hell are you doing here?” Jack shouted, trying to make himself heard over the rotor blades. “Making sure you’re alright, of course!” James yelled back. “Is the next question going to be quite so stupid?” James offered his son a hand and Jack clambered aboard, slumping into a seat beside him. “This is Roy,” James said, nodding towards the pilot. “He’s the one taking orders nowadays.” Roy stepped out from the cabin and shook Jack’s hand. “Good to meet you, dude,” he said, unbuckling his helmet to reveal a mop of shaggy brown hair. “What seems to be the problem? Officials at MI6 told me there was some sort of emergency or something.” He gave Jack the once over, but couldn’t see anything wrong. “It’s not me, it’s someone else,” Jack said. “A whole group of people in fact. Now get back in the cabin and get this thing back in the air.” “Whoa, cool it, man,” Roy said. “I’ve been given strict instructions to take you straight back to London HQ. If there is an emergency going on, some important people need to hear about it so that they can decide what to do.” “There’s no time!” Jack yelled. “We need to get to Hong Kong now.” “Hong Kong?” James said. “But that’s miles away.” “I know, I know… Look, just get me there, okay? Lives are at risk, for God’s sake. Another junior agent is in peril. Isn’t that more important than some half-arsed orders?” “They were very firm with me, dude,” Roy said stubbornly. “Questioning first, action later.” But after hearing that other MI6 agents were in danger, James had switched to Jack’s side. He never once forgot that he too had been an MI6 agent before in his life and if there was one part of the job that was worse than any other, it was losing a colleague. Bullet wounds, knife fights and assault courses were tough and painful, but they were nothing compared to the emotion of coping with a close loss. It felt like your soul was being wrenched out and then stabbed in a million different places, never to be pieced back together again. James began to shiver even at the thought. “What sort of danger are they in?” James asked. “There’s an ambush,” Jack replied hurriedly. “An ambush that they don’t know about and they’re about to walk right into it. They won’t stand a chance, trust me.” “If all you need to do is to warn them, why don’t you simply call them?” Roy suggested. It was a good idea and James looked at his son expectantly. “I tried that,” Jack explained. “But no one picked up. I have no idea why and I wish it weren’t true, but I tried all three junior agents and none of them answered. Then the battery ran out on the phone and I was stuck.” It was the last thing Jack had done before he’d fallen asleep, remembering that he needed to warn them at all costs. But Ella, Fred, Toby… the result had been the same. For some reason, all their phones had been switched off. “What about the mission instructors?” James asked. “Surely there must be at least one senior agent with you?” “Lancaster and some woman called Sophie,” Jack nodded. “But I can’t remember their phone numbers off by heart. It was logged on my mobile, but that was taken by Nico Muller back at the complex.” “Nico Muller?” “Look, I don’t have time to explain. Can we just get moving, okay?” It was annoying because Jack couldn’t remember Charlie or Charlotte’s number either. And knowing Charlotte, her phone would be on 24-7. That was if she would even listen to him; it occurred to Jack that she probably hadn’t been too pleased with him ditching her back in the alley. Focus back on the present, idiot, Jack thought to himself. You can sort your relationships out later. Roy and James were biting their lips in thought. “When do you have to be there by?” Roy asked. Jack sighed with irritation and rolled his eyes. “Tomorrow morning. Around nine o’clock, I think.” “Tomorrow morning?” Roy chuckled and shook his head. “Dude, we’d never get there in seventeen hours – not in this slow coach of a helicopter.” “Why? What’s its top speed?” “About a hundred and eighty. Berlin to Hong Kong is, at a guess, five thousand miles which means in this old bird it’ll take us… roughly twenty-eight hours. And that’s not to mention all the fuel stops and the potential for bad weather.” “Bollocks,” Jack muttered. That was a huge spanner in his plan. “Hang on, it’s not even seventeen hours,” James interrupted. “Think about it. You’ve got the big time gap to contend with.” Roy nodded. “Hong Kong’s eight hours ahead of England so that’s seven ahead of Germany.” “Exactly. So we have nine hours to get there, not an ample seventeen.” “Shit, shit, shit.” Jack buried his head in his hands. “We’re totally screwed. Ella’s totally screwed.” “Wait a minute, dude, I’ve got an idea.” Roy scratched the layer of stubble on his chin thoughtfully then nodded. “If we make it back to England in double-quick time then a fighter bomber might be fast enough to get you over to Hong Kong by the morning.” “Really?” Roy nodded. “I’ve flown all sorts of aircraft in my time and I can tell ya, the Tornado GR4 is one speedy beast.” “Then what are we waiting for?” Jack said, leaping to his feet and almost collapsing from the pain in his ankle. “Let’s get going.” Roy glanced at James for confirmation; even though James was no longer a high-ranking senior agent, he was still very well respected within the undercover world of MI6 and the MoD. “You’re orders were to take him back to London anyway,” James said. “I say we get shifting. If needs be, we can discuss alternative options on the way.” “Righto, boss.” Roy clambered quickly back into the cockpit and buckled himself in, reattaching his helmet and making sure that all the dials were in the right place. The rotor blades started up again and soon the whole helicopter was shaking, almost as if in excitement at how fast they would be going. “Hold on tight, dudes!” Roy yelled and pulled up on the joystick. The Bell Uh-1H swooped straight up into the air, reaching an altitude of fifty metres before Roy eased the controls forward and the helicopter started to soar over the field towards the Belgian border, the English Channel and then, finally, Britain. “Next stop: London!” In the cargo hold, Jack was too anxious to enjoy the scenery down below. His knees were jiggling up and down so much anyone would have thought they were attached to pieces of string. “Is there anyone else who we might be able to contact who’s based in Hong Kong?” James asked helpfully. Jack shook his head. “No one. No one that could help, at least.” “What if MI6 tries to track down Lancaster or Sophie’s number? That will work, won’t it?” But again, Jack shook his head. “We’re all using pay-as-you-go phones for safety reasons,” he explained. “So they won’t be on record.” “But surely MI6 must have some way to contact you? You know, in an emergency or something?” “We never speak on the phone. It’s not safe. You of all people should know that, dad, being Mr Golden Agent and everything.” “Ex-Mr Golden Agent,” James said with a smile that exposed the creases of age around his mouth. “That title would have been passed on to someone else by now.” James still worked for MI6, but no longer as a secret agent. His career had been ruined the instant he’d been shot in the chest by a sniper, the bullet missing his beating heart by mere millimetres. It was a long story, but if the dictator of the assassination attempt had got his way, James wouldn’t have survived at all. He’d been kept in hospital for several weeks and although he could now talk, walk, speak and eat as normal, he would never fully recover. He got tired very easily which meant that he could never go on long walks or take part in any serious sports matches. Indeed, most of the time he had to carry around a walking stick just in case he got too exhausted to move properly; right now it was propped up against the fuselage, tucked in between the two seats. But not once did James ever complain or bemoan his fortune. That was simply the way of the undercover spy; you just put everything to one side and get on with it. And James Knight had been as good a spy as any. While Mr Grey might have once turned out a permanently-injured old timer like James from the organisation, that was not the case now. Ever since the fall of Torpedo (again, another long story) the Head of MI6 had turned over a new leaf and now began treating others with the respect that they deserved. Jack had to admit, it was a big improvement. James had been offered a full-time job as an office worker and even though it meant he was confined to a desk and a computer for most of the day, at least he was still involved with MI6. Unlike Jack, his dad was a true patriot and would do anything for his country. He’d lived and breathed MI6 for over a decade of his life and, this way, he was still able to play his part… even if it was in the Research and Investigation Department. James liked to say that he was semi-retired, but as far as Jack was concerned none of that mattered. His dad was as cheerful and as positive as he’d ever seen him and that was all he cared about. “I’m glad that you’re safe, Jack,” James said suddenly, turning his head towards his son. Down below, they were just passing Wolfsburg. “MI6 has been going manic trying to find you.” “What do you mean?” James quickly explained how Lancaster or Sophie must have contacted HQ and told them about Jack’s sudden disappearance. The organisation had then made it their number one priority to track him down, but to no avail. “And as soon as I heard that you’d called and would be picked up by a helicopter, I made sure I was straight on board.” “I’m not surprised that they didn’t find any clues,” Jack said. “Nico kept me locked up in a cell for most of the time.” “Who’s Nico?” James said. “You keep mentioning his name.” “A criminal,” Jack replied, “But I can’t tell you more than that. It’s strictly confidential about the mission and, as you know, I can’t reveal anything to someone who isn’t involved.” “It’s alright, I understand.” James sighed and Jack could see that his eyes were watery. “I- I’m just so glad you’re safe.” “You’ve already said that.” “I know, I know… it’s just, I don’t think that I could bear it if I lost you. And that’s coming from the deepest part of my heart.” Jack smiled and now he too was struggling to fight back the tears. “Battered, bruised, but otherwise fine,” he mumbled. “Son, I know we’ve had our differences over the past few years – in particular recently over your choices for the future – but I want you to know that, no matter what you do and what decisions you make, I’ll always be proud of you, okay? Prouder than a dad has ever been before.” Jack couldn’t hold it back any longer; he leaned over and gave his dad a hug. “Uh, sorry to break up the family reunion, dudes!” Roy shouted from the cockpit. “But how are those alternative ideas coming along?” “Oh yeah, shit,” Jack muttered, and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He’d become completely distracted from the real reason why they were here: to launch a last-minute rescue mission. “So your plan at the moment is that a harrier transports you to Hong Kong for tomorrow morning and then you find the other agents and warn them about the ambush?” James asked. Jack nodded. “Or, alternatively, if I’m too late and the delivery has already begun, I try and intervene and help out our side as best as I can.” “Delivery?” “Basically, if Ella has already gone.” “Right.” “No offence, man, but you’re just one dude,” Roy shouted having listened in on their discussion. “If what’s occurring here is a rescue mission, then surely it will make more sense to send a whole squadron in; shoot the enemies down, bang, bang, bang and then whisk the dudess away to safety.” “Nice idea,” Jack said, imagining Travis and Franz being blown to smithereens by a big explosion, “But it won’t work.” “Why not?” James asked. “Yeah, why not?” Roy added. “Because if other army soldiers turn up or anyone else at all for that matter, Calvin King – the head of the organisation Ella and I are currently working for – will know that I’ve been double-crossing him and that I actually work for the British government. If there’s one thing he hates more than anything else it’s traitors to his company and so he’ll probably piece together than Ella is a spy as well and will have her killed before someone can get anywhere near her. We may as well have done nothing at all for all the good it would do.” “Damn,” Roy muttered. “How about we drop bombs?” “I’m expecting a lot of close quarter combat,” Jack replied. “There’s no knowing who you’d hit.” “God, you have to be really picky, don’t you?” “Let’s face it,” Jack said and looked at the others in turn. “I’m the only one who can help them now. I’m the only one who knows what’s happening and who won’t break our cover by being there.” James considered this for several seconds then nodded. “He’s right. It seems like the only way.” “Very well, dude,” Roy said with a sigh. “That means we’re going to have ring up HQ and arrange for a GR4 to be ready for take-off by the time we land. By the sound of things, we haven’t got a minute to lose.” “I’ll do that,” James said firmly, pulling out a satellite phone from underneath his seat. “You concentrate on getting us back in one piece.” Roy chuckled. “I’m on it.” So as James called up MI6 Headquarters and started making the necessary arrangements, Jack could finally rest his head against the window and close his eyes. But he couldn’t afford to relax. Not yet. Not until Ella and the K.O members were saved and firmly out of harm’s way. Jack was in no doubt that, despite all the perilous danger that lay ahead, he was doing the right thing. For if you didn’t do all you could to try and save your friends while you still had the chance, then what sort of a friend were you? *It was good to be home, but unfortunately Jack didn’t have time to enjoy the experience of being back on familiar soil for very long. As soon as the Bell helicopter touched down on the concrete pad at RAF Northolt, several kilometres to the west of London, Jack was whisked away towards the main runway where the Tornado GR4 was waiting. He didn’t even have time to say thanks to Roy or goodbye to James. While the huge aircraft was finishing refuelling, Jack was introduced to the pilot: an RAF pilot with twenty-five years of experience called Flight Sergeant Charman. Six foot three and with a stern face that could have intimidated a polar bear, he didn’t look particularly pleased to be giving flying lessons to a teenage boy. It was almost as if, by simply being there, Jack was somehow insulting his pride. “Rule number one is that you listen to my orders at all times,” Flight Sergeant Charman said austerely. “And I mean at all times. If I ask you to press a button, you press the button. If I ask you turn a dial, you turn the dial. If I-” “-ask you to jump off a cliff, I jump off the cliff?” Jack suggested. Charman wasn’t impressed. “Rule number two: never distract the pilot during the flight. Particularly with stupid, immature remarks such as that.” “Sorry.” “And finally, don’t fiddle with anything. I shall be doing most of the work from the front seat, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be buttons where you’ll be sitting. This isn’t a comedy like you watch on TV: it isn’t funny when you press the big red button and the aircraft plummets down towards the ground.” “Sure,” Jack nodded, trying not to smirk. “I understand totally.” “Good. We leave in five minutes. If you need the toilet, I suggest you go now. Once we’re in the air, we won’t be stopping.” No questions were asked; MI6 had already dealt with all of them. Jack was simply given a helmet, strapped securely into the confined space behind the pilot and given a small Mini-Uzi machine gun to tuck between his legs: “As I understand it, you asked for a weapon.” Then the hatch was brought down over him and Flight Sergeant Charman and the bolts clicked automatically into place. Silence. Apart from his head, Jack could barely move. It wasn’t so much a seat as a tiny domed box lined with machinery and the cold, hard inside of the fuselage. Jack was convinced that what he was actually sitting on was the fuel tank, or the gear box or maybe another one of the joysticks. Suddenly, through the dark tint of his new visor, Jack noticed that all the technicians and maintenance men were backing off, pulling their equipment with them. James was standing on the edge of the runway, leaning heavily on his walking stick. He lifted a hand and waved. Jack simply nodded; his arm was stuck somewhere underneath his thigh. Then the engines started up. It was as if someone had ignited an atomic bomb underneath Jack’s seat. The whole aircraft shook like a house in the middle of an earthquake and the noise of the dual Rolls-Royce RB 199 Mk 103 turbofan engines tore through Jack like shrapnel. The very aircraft seemed to roar and reverberate with pure power, flexing its muscles and preparing for action. Terror rose, but Jack forced himself to breath normally, taking long, deep draws of air through the breathing tube attached to his helmet. “Ready?” Charman asked, his voice sounding through the inbuilt speakers by Jack’s ears. “Yep.” Jack was too scared to make a witty comment out of it. A man standing by the edge of the runway raised a green flag and Jack’s heart wedged in his throat: this was it. They were off. Charman pushed forward the thrusters and the aircraft rolled forward, engines now shrieking. Jack felt his skull rattle against the insides of the helmet, but he could do nothing. Feel nothing. Think nothing. Everything was out of his hands. The Tornado hit fifty miles per hour and then suddenly hurtled forward, flinging Jack back in his seat. There was an invisible force pressing Jack backwards and no matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t break it. The tendons in his neck were already aching from the G-forces, hands gripping his knees like they were the only thing keeping him unconscious. And then, with one final roar, Charman pulled up on the controls and the Tornado left the runway, soaring up into the evening sky like a missile. Already they were moving at over two hundred miles per hour… and that was nowhere its overall maximum speed of a thousand mph plus! “You okay back there?” Charman asked, his voice as cool as cucumber. Jack gulped, his mouth dry, and somehow managed to utter a reply: “Yeah.” “Good, good.” With a sonic boom that sounded like amplified thunder, the Tornado rocketed out over London and started its direct journey across Europe and Asia towards Hong Kong. And despite moving faster than Jack had ever experienced before in his life, he could only think one thing: It was going to be a long and torturous ride. 20Heart Of Stone“Raj?” “Here.” “Chak?” “Here.” “McQueen?” No reply. “McQueen?” “Oh yeah, oops. I’m here, sir.” “Good, then that’s everyone.” King totted up the total number of people and frowned: twenty-nine and it would only have been one extra if Zhang hadn’t called in sick at the last moment. The guards waiting for them at the base would take that total up to forty-one, but even then… Was it enough? King chewed his tongue; even if it wasn’t, there was nothing he could do about it now. It was nine o’clock. It was time to start moving. “Members, can you all gather round me, please.” King ushered the group towards him so that they could all hear what he was about to say. “On Sunday I told you that the delivery would be setting off at three and to be here for nine so that we can get properly prepared. I am pleased to see that almost all of you have managed to follow that instruction. However, I’m telling you now that there has been a change in the plan. A last minute decision between the senior members and I has resulted in the delivery being brought forward to this morning. All the transport and goods have already been prepared in advance, so all that there’s left to do now is pick them up. Transport is waiting round the back of the clubhouse to take you to the pick-up zone so the faster that you can get over there and get buckled up, the quicker we can get started. Time is of the essence. Now hop to it.” The members weren’t going to be asked twice. Discussing animatedly among themselves about the sudden, dramatic alteration to the schedule, they trooped into the games room and then passed through the fire exit doors at the back of the building. Ella made sure that Fred and Toby were right beside her before following them out into the bright morning light. Bringing them on the delivery had been too good a chance to miss and as soon as Ella had realised that she had the opportunity to bring the two junior agents into play, it had been a no-brainer. It was no secret that Fred and Toby had been growing agitated and irritated over the last month by their lack of conclusive activity and importance in terms of the progression of the mission. While she and Jack effectively hogged the limelight, they’d been forced to play the supporting roles, second fiddle. It had been homework, not karate. School teachers, not mortal enemies. But now they would have the chance to prove themselves once and for all. King was relying on them to put in a good shift… and that’s exactly what they intended to do. “Is that everyone?” King called, scanning the room with his eyes. “Looks like it,” Brain replied, appearing from the bar. “There’s no one in the toilets.” “In that case, we leave now.” King was just about to lock the front doors when suddenly they burst open, almost knocking him on his backside. A figure rushed into the room and stared down at him. “Wait, we’re coming with you!” It was Charlie. And it had obviously been a last minute decision, because he’d tried to slip into some suitable clothes and had his tracksuit bottoms on back to front. King gasped in disbelief and staggered to his feet, shaking his head. “No.” Ella came rushing over, dragging Fred and Toby behind her. “Charlie, what are you doing?” she hissed. “I know about the delivery,” Charlie said. “I want to be a part of it.” “You can’t!” King replied firmly. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not getting involved.” “Then how come they get to help?” Charlie yelled, pointing a finger at Fred and Toby. “No offence, but they’re like half the size of me.” “I’ve seen them in action,” King said stubbornly. “They’re good enough for the job.” “But I’ve been practicing karate for the last two months!” Charlie protested. He busted out some quick moves to try and demonstrate his point. “Travis says that I’m now probably better than some of the regular members.” “N-O spells no, Charlie. I have to admit, hiring Fred and Toby wasn’t my idea in the first place – Ella managed to convince me round it. But I draw the line at this. It’s for your own safety.” “Safety, safety, safety!” Charlie muttered and threw his arms up in the air. “Stop trying to wrap me up in cotton wool all the time, Dad. I’m eighteen now. I’m not a kid. I can look after myself.” “Can you?” “Yes, and more importantly I can make my own choices. And I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.” King groaned and stared up at the ceiling; a big argument with his eldest son was definitely not what he needed. “He’s got a point you know, sir,” Ella said quietly, trying to be helpful. “And you are desperately short on numbers – you said it yourself.” “Exactly,” Charlie said, flashing a smile at Ella. “It’s a win-win situation.” Ella nodded. “Really, in an ideal world, you need every man that you can get.” “And woman…” The group had been so animated by their discussion that they hadn’t noticed the second figure walk into the room. “I want to come too,” Charlotte said. “Oh, Christ,” King said and slapped himself in the forehead. “Not you as well.” Charlie wanting to join was understandable - he’d been going on non-stop about it for the past two months – but Charlotte? Ella was stunned. They were best friends and as far as Ella could work out, she much preferred hair dryers to guns; hair clips to ammunition clips. So what on earth was she doing here, volunteering for a dangerous operation? “Charlotte, are you sure about this?” Ella asked, her voice laced with concern. Charlotte nodded. “More than anything in my life.” “But why?” “These are the people who took Jack,” she said, teeth gritted with a new determination. “And who knows? They may even have killed him.” “You don’t know that…” “But it’s a possibility. And either way, I want to make them pay. I want to make them suffer like I have, so they know how it feels.” They all turned to look at King; like the public in the X-Factor, he would have the deciding vote. “Fine,” he snapped, throwing his arms up into the air in defeat. “I don’t have the strength or the patience to fight anymore. You two can come. But we move now, okay? We don’t have time for more delays.” “Yeah!” Charlie grinned and gave his sister a high five. “I’ll keep an eye on them, sir, don’t you worry,” Ella said as King locked the door and sprinted over to the fire exit. “Humph,” King grunted. Everyone else was already seated; three minibuses had been parked in the drop-off zone and as King and the others appeared, the engines rumbled into life. “Quick, get in here,” King instructed and ushered the teenagers into the back of the rear minibus. They found some spare seats all clustered relatively close together and sat down, buckling themselves in. King then ran up to the front minibus where Brain was driving and hopped in next to him. “All locked up?” Brain asked. “Of course,” King replied. “Now drive like hell.” *For Ella, Fred, Toby, Charlie and Charlotte, the route to the secret base proved unfamiliar territory. Ella had heard from Lancaster about how he’d tracked one of the delivery vans into the mountains of Hong Kong, but seeing it for yourself was completely different. She felt her stomach lurch for the umpteenth time as the minibus crested another hill and was glad that she’d insisted on just toast for breakfast. To be honest, after waking up, she hadn’t really had the appetite. It wasn’t every day that you transported ten million pounds worth of illegal goods, with the threat of an ambush to add a little spice to the journey. “This is looking promising,” Toby whispered from across the aisle, nodding out of the window at the sea of rolling hills. Ella knew he was talking about Lancaster’s story and how he suspected that K.O had a secret base hidden somewhere behind a mountain; she nodded. In the seat behind her, Charlie appeared to be almost shitting himself with excitement. He was bouncing up and down in his seat so much – like a toddler after hearing that they were going to Disneyland – that he could have had fireworks stuck up his arse. “This is so cool,” he muttered to no one in particular, grinning from ear to ear. “Wait till my mates back in Newcastle hear about this.” To be honest, Ella couldn’t blame him. If it had been her about to fulfil a lifelong dream, she’d be a bit excited too. In comparison, Charlotte wasn’t excited but nor was she scared or apprehensive. Sitting beside her, Ella noticed a steely glaze over her eyes that she couldn’t recall ever seeing before. It suggested grit, yearning and determination; an overwhelming desire to get back at the people who were threatening to ruin her perfect life. She was a woman on a mission and no one was going to stand in her way. Suddenly someone gasped and all heads turned towards the right hand side of the minibus; the sea had just come into view, surface sparkling like glitter in the sunlight. The waves were so calm it could have been a millpond. Ella turned back to face the direction in which they were heading and the large mountain itself loomed up before them. Positioned near the edge of the cliff and marking the transformation from land to sea, it was at least a hundred metres high and double that in width. As the convoy descended down the final slope, the driver eased down on the brakes and the minibus started to slow. Charlotte sat upright and glanced at the mountain. She remained emotionless. “Are we stopping here?” she asked; it was a bit different to a Gucci clothes shop. “I guess we’re about to find out,” Ella replied. Up ahead, the lead minibus had ground to a halt and King was stepping out onto the road. Raising a thumb in the direction of the other vehicles and indicating for them to stop, he then walked forwards towards the dirt trail leading up to the mountain. Ella craned her neck and pressed her cheek to the window to try and see what he was doing. King had stopped on the edge of the track and was crouching down beside a large boulder. Nothing too suspicious about that, Ella thought; he could have been tying his shoelace. But then something extraordinary happened; King reached out and appeared to pull up a flap built into the rock, revealing a hidden panel underneath. Into this panel he typed in a code – Ella was too far away and at the wrong angle to see exactly what it was – then stood up. An LED bulb flashed green from the top of the boulder and King formed an ‘O’ with his thumb and forefinger – so far, everything had gone according to plan. “What was that?” Ella and Charlotte said at the same time. “Defence mechanisms,” a voice replied and the two girls looked up to see that Scarlett had been sitting in the seat in front of them. “Calvin was just disabling them to allow us safe passage up the track.” “Defence mechanism?” Charlie grinned; his smile was now so wide you could probably stuff a plate into his mouth. “Like what?” Scarlett attempted a smile. “Let me give you a little walkthrough.” The engines started up again and the convoy began trundling up the dirt track towards the foot of the mountain. They were barely ten metres along when Scarlett spoke again: “Landmines underneath all the rubble,” she said as the minibus lurched up and down, side to side, the hard suspension struggling to cope with the difficult terrain. “If anything triggers them, they’ll be blown to smithereens.” “A scorch mark in the dirt,” Charlie smiled, nodding eagerly. A further fifty yards along there were: “Retractable spikes… a bit like the tyre stingers that police use to stop getaway vehicles. A motion detector senses a vehicle as it passes and triggers the spikes to pop up underneath the wheels. The point of them is that they burst the tyres and leave the vehicle stranded, making it easy prey for our clearance team to deal with.” “The point,” Fred laughed. “Good one.” Scarlett frowned and stared curiously at him. Fred blushed. “You know, point as in spike and then point as in… oh, forget it.” “These two boulders act as crushers, once again using a motion sensor for pinpoint accuracy,” Scarlett continued, pointing out of the window as they passed. “The two boulders slide together, trapping the vehicle between them. “And then finally, if they somehow get past all of them, we have a pair of sentry guns hidden in those trees.” “Sweet,” Charlie grinned, following where Scarlett was pointing. “Surveillance cameras attached to the barrels spot the approaching intruder and the sentry gun is then controlled remotely by guards within the base.” “Nice,” Charlie nodded. “I could do that for a living.” “The only way to disarm them all is via the boulder at the bottom of the trail and even then you need a password. Otherwise, to be honest, you don’t really stand a chance.” Suddenly the ground seemed to flatten out as the minibus stopped climbing and reached the foot of the mountain. Looking out of the window, Ella could see just how high and steep it was. Surely they couldn’t drive up there? She was right; the minibus continued round the edge of the mountain and, if you looked the other way, you’d find that you were now right on the edge of the cliff. Just a few metres of rock separated them from solid ground and a free-fall to their death. Suddenly they stopped on a flat, wide outcrop; down below, the waves were beginning to pick up, crashing fiercely against the cliff face. Ella realised that from where they were currently parked, nobody from the mainland would be able to see them. The large mountain made sure of that. Only the open sea was in view and there wasn’t a single boat in sight. But surely this couldn’t be their final destination, Ella thought? After all, where was the secret base? Once more, King stepped out of the lead minibus; this time the hidden panel had been built into the rock face of the mountain. Another password was typed in then King stood back, watching the subsequent events as they unfolded. Ella gasped as a section of the rock face – about double the size of a garage door – rotated upwards to reveal a secret passageway behind it leading directly into the heart of the mountain! Currently it was dark inside, but then a moment later tubes in the ceiling were activated and started throwing down artificial light into the tunnel. Everyone peered inside. “Entering the code also reactivates all of the defence mechanisms,” Scarlett said, but no one was listening. They were transfixed by the sheer novelty of what they were witnessing. “Alright, everyone inside!” King shouted and after clambering back into the minibus, they all drove carefully in. The secret door sealed itself behind them and, for anyone who had been watching outside, it would seem as if they’d never even been there. More lights flashed on the further they delved into the mountain before, eventually, they reached its heart. The rocky tunnel opened up into a huge cavern, bigger than anything Ella had ever seen before in her life. It was like standing at the bottom of St Paul’s cathedral and looking up at the dome and the golden gallery except even bigger and even more stunning. The minibuses parked astern along the edge of the circular wall and, one by one, all the members clambered out. “Whoa,” Fred muttered beside Ella, “Now that’s impressive.” The secret base appeared to be structured in layers, each one built on top of each other and getting smaller and smaller in radius until you reached the peak of the mountain. Ella was reminded of the Tower of Babel, as described in the Book of Genesis – it was the same concept. Also, the central section of each floor had been removed so that you could see all the way up the cavern and all the way down, like a pile of different sized tyres. A two metre high railing, painted in bright red, lined the hole - it would be a long way down if you ever fell, that was for sure. It was easily the most impressive piece of architecture and engineering that Ella had ever seen, but unfortunately she wasn’t going to have much time to admire it. King had called the members over to him and was now leading them down one of what must have been hundreds of corridors located inside the base. As she passed the hole, Ella looked down and could see at least five further floors below them. On the one directly underneath, rows of desks had been set out with a computer and a telephone on each. Most of these desks were occupied by workers in cheap shirts and ties, picking up the phones and answering calls even as Ella watched. Below that she could see high shelves and people walking among them, glancing at their clipboards before pulling an item off the correct shelf. And beyond that, who knew? But the one thing that Ella did know was that K.O had one hell of a set up here. Calvin King may have been a criminal, but he certainly knew how to run a business. So much to see, but so little time. “Come on, keep up there at the back!” King yelled. Unsurprisingly for such a large building – if that’s what you could call it – several lifts had been put in place to improve ease of movement. The group had stopped before four lifts and were waiting for them to appear while, according to Raj, there was also another one on the opposite side so that it appeared symmetrical. “That’s not symmetrical!” Toby protested. “It is if the lift’s four times larger than normal,” Raj replied. “Oh yeah?” Fred said. “And what’s the point of that?” Raj rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So you can move the battle tanks, of course.” Charlie’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. “Did you… did you just say battle tanks?” he stammered. “Sure, you’ve got Challenger 2’s, M60A3’s, Leopard’s, T-72’s… you name it, really!” “This is too cool,” Charlie grinned. There was also a winding staircase if anyone fancied shedding a few pounds, curving round the edge of the cavern in a helix shape. But on this occasion, no one did. It was probably best to save their energy for the exercise ahead. “Ground floor,” King instructed and the first of the lifts appeared. A quarter of the group filed inside and the doors resealed. Within the next minute, the three others arrived and Ella and the others shuffled inside. She found herself wedged near the door and so had a good view of the buttons as Brain selected the ground floor. According to the list, the floor they were currently on was the ‘Loading Bay’:11Air10Staff Quarters9Staff Quarters8Weapons & Equipment7Weapons6Loading Bay5Order Room4Black Market Goods3Standard Vehicles2Armoured Vehicles1TanksGroundMarine “Staff quarters?” Toby frowned. “For who?” “Maybe the staff, you idiot,” Fred muttered. “Yeah but… don’t they go home?” All eyes turned to Brain as the lift started to descend. “The staff work in weekly slots,” he explained grudgingly. “That means one week in doing their jobs every single day and then one week out where they get the chance to have a break. Then, at the end of the fortnight, the cycle starts again. Therefore, effectively we have two sets of staff that alternate between each other. When a set is on duty, they don’t ever leave the base. Everything that they need is in the staff quarters from sleeping areas to hot meals.” Fred snorted. “What sort of a person would apply for that job?” he muttered. “Actually, they don’t apply at all,” Brain replied. “They are forced… or to put it a better way, they have no other choice. Almost every single worker that you see here is a released convict: murder, assault, burglary… I’ve heard them all. Out in the real world, the majority of them would never ever get a job again. And that’s for certain. Their criminal record will tarnish any possibilities forever and in a world that is already short on job availabilities, they wouldn’t have a hope in hell. By working here, not only do they get decent living conditions but they are also generously paid. Plus, they get regular breaks. And it’s not as if the work is particularly taxing or strenuous: taking orders from customers or finding a parcel on a shelf, for example. If you want the honest answer from me, why would they ever want to leave?” “And ‘Air’?” “Helicopters and that sort of stuff. We don’t have room for normal planes because, of course, there’s no runway but that top floor is effectively a small aircraft hangar.” “So the helicopters can take off?” Charlotte asked. “Sure.” “But… it’s solid rock, isn’t it?” Brain smirked. “That’s what you think and certainly it looks that way from the outside. But in the hangar is a hatch that opens up on the blind side of the mountain, controlled from inside the base, of course. This allows helicopters to take off and land freely. It’s where most of our stock is deposited before being transported down to their respective floors via the big lift.” Ella nodded, everything suddenly making more sense, and her attention turned to the floor they were heading for: Marine. She pointed at the button. “Why are we going there exactly? I thought we were driving to Macau.” Brain smiled slyly. “Why don’t you wait and see?” The doors opened. As soon as Ella saw the contents of the floor, she knew why it was called ‘Marine’. The whole area was filled with boats from fast, powerful speedboats that you usually see hanging around such glamorous locations as Monte Carlo and San Tropez to armoured military boats that even now still had their original police badges stencilled to the hulls. There was no room for rubber dinghies, gondolas or any other unwanted merchandise, but what Ella could see were harpoons and electrical Tasers lining the walls, the sort you might take with you when diving with sharks. Or when you were preparing to fight enemy soldiers, Ella thought. Enemies, sharks… they were the same thing really. However, despite all the things around her, Ella still couldn’t understand why they’d come down here. They were supposed to be driving to Macau, weren’t they? They were supposed to be taking the ring road around Zhujiang River Estuary? At least, that was what King had told them all. So why the need to come down to the Marine floor? But then she heard the sound of rushing water crashing against rock and she knew that King had lied to them… or, at least, had been hiding the truth. On the far side of the circular room, the rocky floor fell away into a large pool of moving water. It was sea water, gallons of it rushing in through a large crevice in the mountain before being pulled back in by the tide. Through the crevice Ella could see real sunlight, the sun hovering just above the line of the ocean. And now she understood. King had never planned to make the delivery by land. It had always been by sea. Already a dozen boats were moored in the small dockyard, awaiting cast off. Half of these were armoured shipping vessels – about the size of a standard cabin cruiser but with the seating areas stripped out to be replaced by raw storage space. The other half were faster, sleeker, more agile swift boats. Also known as Fast Patrol Craft, they were mainly used by the Unites States Navy for coastal patrols and although they were small compared to the shipping vessels, they were equally as strong. As Ella came nearer, she could see that all the boats were already full to the brim of the familiar wooden crates. Even the swift boats had been used to carry some of the delivery, crates having been wedged inside the cabin and strapped to spare areas of the deck. So this was what King had meant when he’d said that everything had already been prepared. Now all that needed doing was to get on board and hoist the anchor. “If you haven’t already guessed,” King said, turning to the crowd, “We’re not going to be driving to the rendezvous point like last time. Instead we’re going to be travelling by sea, reducing the risk of an ambush, and these are the vessels which we’ll be taking. I apologise for having to lie to you, but it was the only way to make sure that a traitor couldn’t turn us over again. Now, I’m going to assign each of you to a boat and some weapons and then, hopefully, we can get moving.” Boxes of weapons had been brought down from the weapons floor in preparation for their arrival and Brain and Travis handed these out to the members while King sorted the boats. They were each given two guns – an M9 pistol and an SA80 assault rifle – plus a couple of hand grenades and stun grenades to slip into their pockets. King placed Ella along with Fred, Toby, Charlie and Charlotte on one of the shipping vessels and told them to take up defensive positions around the sides, covering all possible angles of attack. At least then they would be able to stick together. Within minutes they were ready. King’s plan was running like clockwork. There was just time for one more inspirational speech designed to spur the team on then the boats started firing up. “Three swift boats will go at the front of the line and three at the back with all the shipping vessels huddled in the middle,” King informed as he stepped off the jetty onto one of the larger boats. So the Head of K.O was coming with them for once, Ella thought. It just went to show how important this delivery meant to him. “If we come under attack, the shipping vessels are the ones that need to be protected most – they hold the majority of the stock and won’t be able to outrun most other boats. They are our priority. Alright… swift boats one, two and three: proceed forward.” With a burst of spray, the first boats rumbled out of the cave through the crevice and banked sharply, following the coastline southwards towards Macau. King then nodded and Ella’s boat, driven by Brain, eased after them. The sea had definitely picked up. They were barely out of the cave before the waves started buffeting them about, trying to force them against the craggy rock of the cliff face. Brain gunned the engine and exhaust smoke poured out of the rear, as thick and opaque as tar. But it was working. He was able to steer them away to a safe distance and then, with the rest of the convoy closing in behind him, set about keeping up with the lead boats. 21Dangerous Waters“Maybe this isn’t the best time to mention it,” Charlotte mumbled, shuffling up alongside Ella with her body leaning against the railings, “But I don’t really like boats. I get seasick quite easily.” “Oh dear,” Ella cringed. “That isn’t good news.” Suddenly her friend didn’t look quite so determined or confident. The boat hit a particularly large wave, sending the bow soaring up into the air, and Charlotte took a tentative step back. Ella wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Just stay with me, yeah?” she said. “I’ll make sure that you’re okay.” Charlotte nodded. She didn’t have the courage to hear her own voice. Meanwhile, Fred and Toby were taking to the situation like ducks to water. Because they were smallest and wouldn’t get in the way of his line of sight, Brain had sent them to the bow of the boat. They were now both standing upright with their rifles at the ready, pretending to shoot down any seagull that came within a hundred metre range of them. “Bam!” Fred yelled as a bird soared over him. “He’s dead.” “Save it for the enemy,” Brain shouted from the cabin – it was difficult to hear properly over the racket from the engine. “If they turn up that is.” “Fingers crossed,” Fred mumbled and lined up his next target. Charlie had been given the stern to cover and was familiarising himself with his new weapon, leaning against one of the crates and running through the process of changing a magazine as Jack had taught him. “Remember to tap the bottom… remember to tap the bottom,” he muttered to himself as the magazine dropped from the gun once more. Ella looked over and couldn’t help smiling. “At least he’s keeping himself occupied,” she said to Charlotte. Her friend tried to muster a smile but failed; her face was turning a shade of green. “I’ll keep watch for now,” Ella said, trying to be helpful. “Sit down on one of the crates and focus on a point on the horizon. That should help cure your sea sickness. Also, try and take your mind off Jack. It’ll only make things worse.” Charlotte nodded and, keeping her weapon nearby, settled down on one of the crates behind the cabin. The convoy was making good progress. Already ten miles had been covered and, after negotiating the southern tip of Hong Kong Island, they were now nearing Lantau Island which stuck out into the mouth of the river estuary like a branch off a tree. Ella looked up as one of the other shipping vessels pulled slowly alongside them. Calvin King was standing on the bridge, a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes. Ella watched as he scanned the horizon carefully, looking out for any signs of trouble. If there were enemy boats lying in wait, he wanted to know about them early. If they launched a sudden ambush as they’d done last time, there was no knowing what damage they could cause. “See anything?” Ella yelled across the water. King put down his binoculars and shook his head. “Doesn’t mean they’re not out there though.” King’s boat continued edging forward and Brain slowed down so that it could slip in front of them in the line. Salty spray sprang out of the ocean like flying fish every time the boat hit a wave, slowly drenching the side deck and the bottom of Ella’s trousers in water. She shivered and zipped up her jacket tighter; the sea wind whipped at her hair, blond strands flapping about and getting in her face. She pulled out a piece of string from her pocket and quickly tied it back, the nimble movement ridding some of the numbness from her cold fingers. Smaller islands approached and past, nothing more than rocky crags sticking out of the water. A group of seagulls were perched on top of one, pecking at the carcass of a yellow croaker. Ella looked down and saw silver shimmering near the surface of the water; a shoal of common biddies or gerres oyena. Ella found herself smiling as they darted from side to side, like a car dodging through the traffic. Then suddenly a large shadow loomed up from beneath them and snapped its mouth, plucking a helpless biddy from the group. The rest of the shoal scarpered, swimming about in all directions. Panicking. Meanwhile, the Chinese Sturgeon finished its starter in two quick bites, teeth crunching through scales, before darting underneath the boat as it searched for the main course. Ella gulped. It seemed that no matter where you were or what you were doing, death was always lurking somewhere nearby. It was part of nature. The cycle of life. It was as inevitable as your next breath or the end of a day. There could be no escaping it. A sudden yell brought Ella back to her senses; a yell tinged with shock and curiosity. It had come from the lead swift boat and as Ella looked up she could see Chak standing on the bow, leaning over the railing with his hand shielding his eyes. “I swear I just saw something!” he yelled as King stepped out to see what was going on. Chak pointed towards the Western tip of Lantau Island. “Just there.” Then there was a bang and Chak jerked backwards, a ribbon of blood erupting into the air. The sniper bullet had passed straight through his skull. The man was dead instantly. The driver of the boat screamed in horror and jerked the wheel round, sending the vessel veering off course. Chak’s body hit the deck and rolled off the side, slipping through the railings and splashing into the water. It floated there for about a second before being pulled under where it would no doubt soon become dinner for some lucky sturgeons. “Enemy contact!” King roared and dived back into the cabin. “Get to cover!” Brain wrenched the wheel round and the boat swerved away from the island, tilting startlingly onto its port side. Ella’s numbs hands slipped from the railings and she crashed into the side of the cabin, her rifle falling from her grasp. Charlie came rushing over and helped her up, just nabbing the rifle in time before it slipped overboard. “Thanks,” Ella muttered, her butt now soaked in seawater. “Don’t mention… Oh shit, this doesn’t look good.” They took shelter behind a pile of the crates as the enemy finally started to show their faces. Chak had been taken out by a sniper on the lead boat: a gun-metal grey warship cruiser that, despite the fact it was renowned for being one of the smallest independent warships, was still at least twice as large as K.O’s shipping vessels. The sniper was lying down flat on the bow of the ship, lining up its next target. Ella flinched as a second bullet was fired and there was a smash as a window in one of the cabins shattered. There must have been at least twenty soldiers crammed on the cruiser alone with a further ten on the two speedboats flanking the ship’s either side. Who knew what else was lurking behind them, still out of sight behind the island? “Return fire!” Brian yelled, picking his own rifle up from the floor and rushing out of the cabin to take aim. Ella and Charlie leapt into action, crouching beside Brain and aiming for the group of soldiers on the cruiser. But although that was the biggest threat, it wasn’t the most immediate. With a great whine, the two speed boats sped forward, breaking away from the group and hurtling straight towards the K.O convoy. They were still at least two hundred metres away, but closing fast. A machine gun had been fitted to the top of both windscreens and Ella watched in horror as the gunmen got into position, ready to mow down the boats as soon as they were within range. But she was wrong. It wasn’t their immediate problem. Because, at that moment, the Black Eagle soldiers on the warship cruiser initiated their secret weapon. The cannon was as thick as a tree trunk, the shell that was being dropped into the barrel as large as a boulder. Ella felt all the life drain out of her as the soldiers stood back, lighted the fuse and covered their ears. Boom! The shell soared up into the air and then came hurtling back down like an asteroid from outer space. Up ahead, someone screamed. However, the trajectory had just been out and the shell overshot, smashing into the ocean and rocketing down towards the seabed. “A cannon! That’s not fair!” Charlie protested. Ella couldn’t have agreed more. It was clear straightway that, once again, they’d underestimated the power of the Black Eagles. Assault rifles and armoured boats were all very well, but against a warship? They didn’t stand a chance. “How did they know?” Brain was muttering to himself over and over again. “It was supposed to have been a last-minute decision. None of the members knew.” “Uh, I think we’ve got some bigger problems on our hands right now,” Charlie stammered and pointed. “Look!” The speed boats had got within range and, as soon as the machine guns started firing, all hell broke loose. The bullets tore into the side of the lead swift boat, creating huge dents in the reinforced metal the size of golf balls. The boat rocked from side to side, flinging the members on board to the floor. The speed boat then started to sweep round so that it was running parallel but in the opposite direction to the convoy. The hail of machine gun fire was relentless, ripping into each boat as it passed. “Take out the machine gun!” someone yelled only to be thrown backwards into the water as he caught the full force of a kilogram of lead. They were being shot down like rabbits, Ella couldn’t help thinking. The members from the two boats up ahead were showing some resistance so they decided to join them, propping their rifles up on the crate in front and using it as a tripod to keep their aim steady. As the first of the speedboats roared past they pulled the triggers. Most of the bullets hit the hull, deflecting harmlessly off into the water, but several found their way into the cabin, shattering the windscreen and slicing through the driver, killing him instantly. The speedboat lost control and swerved, two soldiers both diving desperately for the wheel. One was hit by bullets from another of the shipping vessels, but the other managed to grab hold of the wheel, regaining control and bringing the speedboat back round for another run. Meanwhile the warship, a lot closer this time, had restocked the cannon. It arced through the air and this time found its target, smashing into the keel of one of the swift boats. It had a see-saw effect, the bow being launched up into the air with flailing limbs everywhere. The boat flipped over before exploding in a gigantic fireball, splints of wooden crate shooting outwards and hammering the boats behind. The third swift boat was forced to take drastic action, dodging the wreckage just in the nick of time. Any severe damage to the hull and it would be game over. Water would rush in and the boat would drop down like an anchor. So much was going on, Ella barely registered that they’d now reached open water. The Zhujiang River Estuary stretched out in front of them, twenty miles of clear ocean before you hit Macau on the other side. And at this rate, hit was the right word. Worse was to come. The full extent of the Black Eagle’s force was now visible and, crawling along behind the warship like slaves in chains, were three armoured cruisers similar to the K.O shipping vessels. Except, instead of being piled high with wooden crates, they were piled high with more soldiers - at least thirty in total. Bringing up the rear were four more speed boats, ready to spring as soon as the order was given. Ella looked over and saw the colour drain out of Charlie’s face. “Still glad you came on the delivery?” she asked. Charlie didn’t reply. The two speedboats moved in for their second attack, but this time the members were ready. Standing on the lead shipping vessel, Luke McQueen hurled one of his grenades into the speedboat just was it was passing, then dropped down to his stomach as the crates above his head were reduced to kindling. M79 grenade launchers spilled out onto the deck and that gave Ella an idea. “Rocket launchers,” she hissed. “We need rocket launchers.” However, the last two words were drowned out as the grenade inside the speedboat detonated, despite the crews best efforts to chuck it out. The explosion was so great, it flipped the wreckage over and sent a tidal wave of water shooting out from the epicentre. “Brace yourself!” Brain warned and they all gripped to the nearest crate as the wave hit. Ella felt her stomach bounce around as the boat was lifted up then down and could only fear for Charlotte considering the state she was already in. Speaking of which… where was Charlotte? With a horrible dread, Ella realised she should have been looking out for her. She spun round and was shocked to see Charlotte standing in the cabin, grasping hold of the wheel so tightly it reminded Ella of the first time she’d driven a car. “Charlotte, what are you doing?” Ella yelled, waiting for a cease in the gunfire before scrambling into the cabin. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Charlotte replied, her voice quivering uncontrollably. “I’m trying to be useful.” Ella managed a small smile but any hope generated from that was quickly distinguished by the return of the warship. Despite its huge engines it was a lot slower than the shipping vessels, meaning it had had to move across the water diagonally in an attempt to try and cut them off. The first swift boat had slipped past it right at the last second, but the next one wasn’t so lucky. The driver forced the motor into reverse and spun the wheel, but it was too late. They were going too fast. Two of the members just had time to throw themselves off the side before the swift boat hit the hull of the warship. Really, it was like ramming into a tank in a Mini Cooper. The whole front of the boat was sheared off, wrenching the vessel round. The engine cut out and the boat tipped on its side, quickly sinking under the surface and dragging down any unfortunate soul who’d been trapped inside. The sea here was at least twenty metres deep at the shallowest point. It was going to be a long way down. As for the warship, the collision had barely left a scratch. What’s more, the soldiers on board were now in easy shooting range and could put their weapons to use, turning on the shipping vessels and firing almost all at once. At the bow, Fred and Toby shrieked and sprinted back to the safety of the deck, flinging themselves to the floor just as the bullets flew over them. Inside the cabin, Charlotte fell to her knees, but it was only to get out of sight rather than having been hit as Ella first feared. It was now officially a fully blown war, all the vessels having caught up with each other and grouped together in one congested area. The group received a heavy shunt from behind as one of the shipping vessels failed to stop in time, throwing them all off their feet. However, the damage was minimal and in all the chaos that had emerged around them, Ella couldn’t blame the driver for making a hash of it. It was then that things got really bad. The warship was now right alongside several of the shipping vessels, including Ella’s, and – without hesitating for even a second – half of the soldiers on board threw themselves over the side aiming for the decks. All but one hit their targets. Toby screamed and took cover as a full grown man almost landed right on top of him. Fred was knocked over onto his backside, but managed to kick upwards, his foot landing in a soft midriff and propelling the soldier away. “Stay behind here!” Ella yelled and dragged one of the crates into the cabin for Charlotte to duck behind. “It’s not much, but it’s something.” Meanwhile, Charlie was locked in a fierce hand-to-hand battle with one of the soldiers, using every ounce of his karate ability to keep the man at bay. Both had dropped their weapons and were fighting for their lives, but not only was the soldier bigger, he also was vastly more experienced. Charlie knew some moves but he made his big mistake when he tried to go for an uppercut punch, completely misjudging the distance to his opponent. The soldier dodged out of the way and kneed Charlie in the crotch, sending him sprawling back across the desk. The soldier snatched up his fallen weapon and would have surely shot Charlie right there and then if Ella hadn’t come flying at him from the side, smacking him in the ribs and sending them both tumbling against the railings. “Let go!” Ella yelled and started smashing the soldier’s hands against the deck, trying to force the gun from his grip. The man accidentally pulled the trigger but thankfully the barrel was pointing the wrong way; away from the boat rather than towards. The soldier snarled and grabbed Ella’s hair, yanking it back sharply. It didn’t matter if it was dirty play. Out here, in the middle of the sea, there were no rules. Ella screamed but it only spurred her on. She head-butted backwards and made perfect connection with the soldier’s nose, feeling it crunch underneath her. The soldier roared and Ella used the opportunity to squirm out of his grasp, turning around and then slamming his head against one of the metal railings. The soldier’s eyes rolled back in his skull and Ella shoved him overboard. Who cared if the fish got to him before his colleagues? It would only be payback. “Ella! Get out of there!” Charlie warned. He grabbed Ella by the jacket and dragged her backwards behind a crate just as some of the soldiers up on the warship spotted them and took aim. Suddenly it was raining bullets, the wooden decking being ripped up all around them. Fred and Toby were sheltering on the other side of the boat while Charlotte was still inside the cabin, blindly trying to steer them to safety. There was no sign of Brain. Ella hoped he was alright. “Sis! Get us away from the bloody battleship!” Charlie shouted as a bullet skimmed off the crate above him. “If I die here, I’m blaming it all on you!” It wasn’t exactly the most encouraging thing to say, Ella thought, but it seemed to do the trick. Charlotte slammed the engine up to full power and the boat lurched forward, pulling away from the warship. Charlie and Ella shuffled round so that they were still in cover and breathed out a sigh of relief. The worst was behind them. But then suddenly, out of nowhere, another boat loomed up from the port side. They all ducked, expecting another burst of bullets to come shooting at them, but instead it was a familiar voice that reached them. “Charlie! Charlotte! Are you both alright?” It was King. He had a scrape on his cheek and there was a rip in his trouser leg from where he’d presumably caught it on something, but otherwise he looked fine. Certainly, Ella had seen K.O members in a lot worse state. “Dad!” Charlotte yelled and crawled out of the cabin, trying not to place her hands on any of the broken glass. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I wish I hadn’t come.” “I know,” King said through gritted teeth. He ducked as someone fired a sniper rifle nearby, but the target was elsewhere. “That’s why I’m getting you out of here. It was a mistake bringing you… both of you. I know I shouldn’t have given in to your pleas. I’m taking you back to the mainland – Lantau Island. I’ll drop you off there then you need to find your own way home because I’ll be coming back. I can’t abandon my organisation, not in a crisis like this.” King was forced to duck again and this time the shot was much closer. Several bullets slammed into the hull, creating an almost perfect straight line. Then there was a loud whoosh from up above and Ella realised that someone must have broken out the rocket launchers. “Now come on! Get over here both of you!” Charlotte didn’t need asking twice. She hurried forwards, a mix of grime and tears streaking down her cheeks and grabbed hold of her father’s outstretched hand. Then, as she jumped, King hoisted her up in the air and she landed down beside him on the deck. “Get into cover!” he ordered and then turned to his son. “Now you, Charlie. Come on!” But Charlie didn’t budge. He folded his arms and scowled, as if he wasn’t on a boat in the middle of a gang war but was at home, getting angry because his parents had told him to go up for bed early. “I’m not going with you.” King’s eyes flared with warning. “We don’t have time for another of your tantrums,” he snapped. “Hurry up and get over here!” “No.” “Listen to him, Charlie,” Ella pleaded beside him. “He’s only doing it for your own good.” “No, he isn’t!” Charlie yelled. “He doesn’t have a clue what’s good for me.” “Charlie… I’m warning you,” King growled. “Charlie. Just go, please,” Ella said. “Before an enemy boat gets here. Then we’ll all be in danger.” Charlie gnashed his teeth angrily and stood up, throwing his arms up in the air. “Fine,” he yelled. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” “Shift it!” King roared. “Alright! Alright!” With Fred and Toby lying down providing covering fire, Charlie hurried over to the side of the shipping vessel. Then, ignoring the offer of King’s help, he leapt over onto the swift boat and barged past his father, settling down grumpily on a seat beside his sister. “Good luck and keep fighting,” King said, nodding down at Ella, Fred and Toby. “Hopefully, I’ll be seeing you again later.” The only other person on the swift boat was the driver – a K.O member called Terry – and as soon as King stepped down from the bow, he turned the wheel so that the boat was pointing towards shore and then revved the engine. The boat eased by, quickly picking up speed. Neither Charlie nor Charlotte glanced over once. Fred and Toby scrambled to their feet and hurried over to Ella, now the senior agent in Jack’s perhaps permanent absence. A current from the river had carried them away from the main battle, further out to sea, and it was strangely quiet now that no one was shooting at them and no one was shouting. “So what do we do now?” Toby asked. He was still only a fourteen year old boy, but he seemed to have grown up a lot over the last few minutes. “We go back and help,” Ella said firmly. “What? Go back into death row? Are you crazy?” Fred yelled. “We’ve got a job to do here, kiddo, and I intend to do it,” Ella replied. “And that’s that. I’m senior here so whether you like it or not, you’re doing what I say.” “But it’s a suicide mission! We’re being torn apart!” “And that’s because we’re not helping. Are you honestly going to tell me that we should just give up, let Jack’s sacrifice go in vain?” “But-” “Toby you’re on steering duty – I don’t trust this one to lead us the right way.” Ella stood up and turned away from them. She wiped her dampening eyes with the back of her hand and fought back a snivel; if anyone asked, her eyes were stinging from all the acrid smoke and sea salt. Then she took a deep breath, picked up her weapon again and took up a position on the starboard side of the vessel. “Toby… go get them.” *“Get lost. I’m not even going to talk to you.” Charlie folded his arms and turned his body around so that he no longer had to look at his father. King raised his hand, ready to slap him across the cheek but then aborted it at the last moment. Instead, he bent over and hissed into Charlie’s ear: “I’ll deal with you later. And when I do, you’re going to wish that you were never even born.” King stood up and went to stand beside Terry. They were skirting round the edge of the battleground, taking the long route towards Lantau Island. There wasn’t an enemy soldier in sight. King sighed with anger and shook his head. If he was a dragon, he’d be breathing out fire at the moment. His world was full of so many problems that he didn’t even know where to begin. “I wish I had never been born,” Charlie suddenly muttered. King’s head snapped round, eyes glowing dangerously. “Particularly when I get stuck with you as a frickin’ dad.” King gritted his teeth and walked across to Charlie in two giant steps; it was only a small boat. He grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck and yanked him to his feet. “What the hell is your problem?” he yelled at Charlie. “You’re my problem,” Charlie sneered. “Isn’t it obvious?” The tether snapped. King raised his hand and smacked Charlie hard across the cheek. It sounded like the crack of a whip. Charlotte shrieked and scrambled out of the way as Charlie staggered back into his seat, his cheek smarting. It had gone completely red. Redder than blood. Redder than danger. Terry spun round and stared, alarmed by all the commotion. “You see, there you go again,” Charlie yelled, trying to remain defiant. “First you threaten me, now you assault me. How much of a worse father can you get?” “You’re on your last warning here, Charlie,” King growled, his voice as poisonous as a viper. “If you say one more thing about me… anything at all… then I’m going to throw you off this boat.” Charlotte gasped and started sobbing into her hands; Charlie remained as still as a statue. “You want adventure? You want excitement? Then you can swim back to shore instead. And if the current gets you and drags you out to sea… who cares? I couldn’t give a shit. It will be one less mouth to feed.” Charlie glared at his father, chest rising and falling. He licked his lips and opened his mouth, ready to speak. “No, Charlie. Don’t!” Charlotte cried desperately and tried to grab him. Charlie pushed her out of the way and stood up so that he was face to face with King, their noses almost touching. “You know, I’m not surprised that you’ve got a traitor in your ranks,” he said clearly. “On this basis, I would probably ditch you too.” For a middle aged man, King moved as fast as light. The palm of his hand slammed against Charlie’s chest and he was sent flying backwards, crashing against the deck of the boat and moaning in pain. “You just don’t listen, do you?” King yelled. “That’s always been your problem. Ever since you were born. No wonder you flunk all your exams. No wonder you get pissed and smoke weed every day of the week. No wonder you’re such a failure at life.” Charlie leapt to his feet and charged at King; his strength took the latter by surprise and they both fell backwards, hitting the deck with a loud crash. Charlie was trying to grab King’s neck with the K.O leader desperately trying to shove him off. “I hate you!” Charlie roared, a crazed look in his eye. “I hate everything about you. You don’t care about me! You don’t care about your family! You just case about your stupid organisation.” King eventually succeeded in prising Charlie’s hands from his neck and elbowed him in the chest, sending him sprawling. Charlie rolled over and clattered straight into the back of Terry’s legs, sending him crashing down on top of him. “Stop it! Stop it both of you!” Charlotte cried, but it was like trying to speak to two gorillas. Suddenly Charlie had an idea and made a grab for the controls, taking hold of the steering wheel and wrenching it round. “Oh no you don’t!” King roared and dived after him, seizing him by the waist and dragging him back. Terry tried to scramble to his feet, but in the confusion he was knocked back over. Charlie was repeatedly kicking King in the groin, trying to make him let go, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. He hauled himself forward and landed the decisive blow, whacking Charlie across the temple with a hooked fist. Charlie sagged to the floor and Charlotte squealed. King stood up, dusting the dirt of his trousers and glared down at Charlie, nothing but contempt in his eyes. “You are no son of mine,” he said. And then there was a sudden, metallic click. “Well, well, well… what have we got here?” King, Charlie, Charlotte and Terry all spun round and gasped. A speed boat had pulled alongside them, easily keeping pacing as they drifted through the water. A man was standing on the bow, dressed in green uniform. The man smiled craftily. “Not interrupting anything, I hope?” King scowled. He recognised the person standing before him. And it wasn’t good news. In his deranged state, Charlie might be dangerous. This man was dangerous full stop. “Franz,” King muttered. “Mr King.” “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Mr King. I wouldn’t worry about that.” The joint leader of the Black Eagles held up the Heckler & Koch USP and flexed his index finger around the trigger. The safety catch was off. The pistol was already cocked. “I would love to chat, Mr King. Really, I would.” He lowered the pistol down and aimed it at King’s chest. “However, I’m afraid there is a war going on. And as I’m sure you’ll agree, an army always needs their leader.” Franz smiled. He fired the pistol. Charlotte screamed. King flinched. Beside him, Terry let out a soft moan and sunk to the floor in a spatter of blood. He wasn’t to get up again. “Oh, and I see you’ve brought your family along with you,” Franz said, looking over Charlie and Charlotte with cold eyes. “I have to say, they don’t look very happy. Not happy at all. Tell me, Mr King, did they not particularly fancy a boat ride today? Was the weather not good enough for them?” “No,” King said coldly. “They weren’t supposed to be here.” “Pity,” Franz said. “Although, if you’d like, I’ll give them something really to be unhappy about.” In a split second, Franz had moved the pistol. It was now aimed at Charlotte and an evil grin spread across the German’s face. “So… who first, Mr King? The voluptuous daughter…” Franz moved the gun over to Charlie. “…or the prodigal son?” King knew his answer, but didn’t speak it. There could only be one person responsible for getting them in this mess. But it wasn’t only him that was going to pay for it. “Hmm…” Franz stroked his neatly trimmed goatee, as if he was really considering his options. The pistol turned back to Charlotte. A chill ran down her spine, as cold as ice. Even if there was anywhere to run, she wouldn’t have been able to. Her whole body was paralysed with fear, unable to move. She’d been stupid to have ever even considered coming on the delivery. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And it was going to cost her. More than anything she’d ever bought in her life. Out here, in the middle of the sea, she really was out of her depth. “You know, I think I’ll go for the voluptuous daughter,” Franz smiled. He lined up the gun, holding it tight. There was nothing anyone could do to stop him – he was too far out of reach. Yet, at the same time, there was no chance that he was going to miss – not from this range. “After all, it’s only polite. Ladies first and all that…” Franz laughed and his finger curled around the trigger. Charlotte closed her eyes, awaiting her death… And prayed for a miracle. 22Down From HeavenJack could honestly say that he’d never experienced anything like it before in his life. As the Tornado GR4 reached its top speed of 1,600 mph – way over six times as fast as the quickest production car, the Bugatti Veyron – whole countries just seemed to disappear beneath them. One moment there, the next gone. That was if Jack had had the stomach to look down. He knew it was a once in a lifetime experience. He knew that some people would give both their legs to be where he was right now (it would certainly make sitting down more comfortable). And he knew that for every hour they were in the air, it was costing the British government ?35,000 of the taxpayer’s money to fund. But the truth was that he was scared senseless. It felt like all the organs inside of him were being jumbled up by Picasso and it was taking all his concentration just to breathe normally. And even then it had to be through a plastic tube. Jack was glad when they came to the first checkpoint: a large military base just on the outskirts of Donetsk, Ukraine. As Flight Sergeant Charman told him just before landing, it would only be for a quick fuel stop. Even with four external drop tanks, the maximum range for the Tornado on a full tank was two and a quarter thousand miles. That meant they would have to stop off once more before Hong Kong. And by a quick fuel stop… The refuelling process took well over an hour and even then Jack wasn’t allowed to get out. Apparently, it was for health and safety reasons. Jack could just see the rescue mission crumbling away before him, all the brilliant progress they’d made up in the air counting for nothing because of the time it was taking to refuel. It was so frustrating, knowing that someone out there was in grave danger and being able to do sod all about it but sit in a cramped box and share a conversation with the least humorous man in the history of the world. Jack could almost feel his friends’ lives slipping through his fingers. When they finally got going, Jack was more agitated than ever. He felt like saying screw the pre-flight checks to Charman and just get us up in the air. Except, funnily enough, he didn’t think that would go down too well. “What’s our current predicted arrival time?” Jack asked soon after they were back in the air and crossing over into Russia. “The second fuel stop included.” Charman checked one of the dials in front of him and made a quick calculation in his head. “I’d say about two o’clock in the morning Greenwich Mean Time, although it’s hard to be sure.” Roy had said that Hong Kong was eight hours ahead which meant it would be roughly ten o’clock over there. Nico had told him that the delivery was due to set off at any point after nine o’clock. Jack sucked air through his teeth and almost choked. It was going to be close. Somehow Jack managed to nod off – all the activity of the past twenty-four hours suddenly catching up with him – and he completely bypassed the second fuel stop in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. “You snore in your sleep,” Charman complained later on when Jack eventually woke up, somewhere above the mountains of Tibet. From then on, it was just a mad dash to Hong Kong. “Reaching target in t-minus five minutes,” Charman said into the radio. Jack sat upright. “What’s the time?” Charman sighed. “Haven’t you got a watch? “No, the Germans stole it from me.” Charman decided not to go there. “2:02 GMT,” he said. “We’re running slightly behind schedule.” Jack muttered a swear word. He might already be too late… “There’s a military base called Shek Kong Airfield,” Charman informed him moments later. “It’s owned by the People’s Liberation Army Air Force. We’ve been given special permission to land there.” “What!” Jack exclaimed. “No, we can’t!” “Why not?” “We don’t have time. Screw the airfield. I need to get to the Zhujiang River Estuary now!” “What? You want to be dropped off in the middle of the sea?” “Yes.” “That’s not possible.” “At least just fly over it first,” Jack pleaded. “Then I can see what’s going on below; decide whether we’ve got time to make a proper landing or not.” Charman sighed and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered and tilted the plane slightly, altering their course. Soon the South China Sea became visible on the horizon and Jack felt a brew of excitement and nerves bubble up inside of him. “Slow down,” Jack said. “I need a good look.” Charman eased back on the thrusters and the plane slowed dramatically, Jack almost whacking his head on the object in front. But they were still travelling at over five hundred miles per hour and he knew he was going to have to be quick. “I’ll fly over the estuary, circle back round and then fly over it once more,” Charman stated. “After that, we’re heading for the airfield.” “Deal.” Jack tried to push himself up in his seat, peering out of the hatch down at the ground below. Hong Kong itself quickly came into view; a mass of brick towers that could have been designed and created by a child. No thought seemed to have been put into the structure and layout of the city; it was just each skyscraper challenging its rivals, fighting for prowess and domination of the sky. That said, they were nowhere near as high as the Tornado. Then Jack saw the estuary. Still five miles away, they were closing in fast and at this altitude Jack realised that he would struggle to make out anything at all. He was looking for a convoy of boats – that was all he knew. It was what Nico had told him back at the compound and he just had to hope that the Black Eagle leader hadn’t been lying. “Swoop lower,” Jack ordered and Charman reluctantly obliged. He wasn’t used to being bossed around in his own aircraft, particularly by a teenage boy. All too soon they were over the estuary and Jack knew he would have just a couple of seconds before they reached the other side. He looked down and at first couldn’t see anything. Although the sea was about as calm and still as he was, no boats were visible. And then a ball of fire rose up into the air, glowing hot and orange against the blue sea. From up here, it was only about the size of a pinprick but Jack knew what it meant. A boat had just blown up. Someone was under attack. “The ambush has been launched,” Jack said urgently. “I need to get down there immediately.” “I told you, I can’t do it,” Charman growled. As they passed over Macau, he banked the aircraft sharply and they began to turn, heading back towards Hong Kong. “A Tornado can’t land on water. If we were in a Sea Harrier FA2 then perhaps we could hover just above the surface, but in this it is not possible. We have to land at the airfield.” Jack gritted his teeth and kicked the floor in frustration. There had to be another way… and it had to be now, before the estuary passed underneath them. “I’m sure someone will be there to help you as soon as we land,” Charman said, trying to sound sympathetic. “They could take you down to the coast in a Jeep or something. It shouldn’t take more than five, ten minutes.” Then he paused. In his earpiece, he could hear fidgeting. “What are you doing back there?” In the second compartment, Jack placed the Mini-Uzi in his lap and grabbed hold of it tight. He was going to need it. “Finding my own way out,” he said. “How?” Charman frowned. “We’re two thousand metres up in the air.” And then he realised. “No! Don’t do it! You can’t!” They were now right above the estuary. “Laters, Charman,” Jack shouted. “And thanks for the ride.” He pressed the big red button in front of him and held on tight. Whoosh! The emergency eject was activated and the hatch was torn off the cockpit, being snatched away in an instant by the whirling wind. Then Jack felt the seat underneath him rumble before several canisters of compressed air all fired at once, shooting the seat up into the air. Jack yelled and gripped on for dear life as the seat rose like a rocket and the Tornado passed straight underneath him, engines roaring. If he hadn’t been wearing the protective helmet it would have surely deafened him. As the Tornado shot into the distance, the ejector seat started to tumble, plummeting down towards the ground. Panic rose up in Jack’s throat. Where was the parachute? Why wasn’t it working? Then Jack felt his face being tugged backwards as the canopy burst from the back of the seat, catching the wind in an instant. It yanked the seat back upwards, stopping the free fall, and Jack gasped with relief. His hands were gripping the sub machine gun so tightly he thought he might snap it in two. He was now descending at a brisk but comfortable rate, giving him time to take stock of his surroundings. He could now make out the shape of the boats below and, in particular, there was one much larger than the rest. A warship perhaps? If so, Jack wondered whose side it was on. It was positioned in what seemed like the centre of the battle, smaller boats swarming around it like fleas. There was another explosion and the rear end of one of the boats went up in flames. Jack’s eyes were then drawn to two boats that, for some reason, had drifted away from the rest of them. They were both small in size, but definitely different models with one being white and the other being grey. And they’d stopped moving. They were both simply floating in the water, as if the engines had cut out or something. Jack made a split second decision and decided to head for them, grabbing the handles by his ears and tugging them accordingly with the machine gun balanced perilously between his thighs. At least with these boats he might be able to get a better understanding of what was going on before diving into the thick of the action. Using all the parachute training he’d learnt with MI6, Jack adjusted the control lines so that he was drifting down towards the two boats, carefully correcting it now and again to make sure he remained on track. He was now less than a hundred metres up in the air and could make out figures on the two boats. On the white boat there were four people, all clustered together. On the grey boat there were just two people; one behind the wheel and another standing on the bow. The two parties appeared to be talking. Then Jack heard a bang, followed by a piercing scream that tore right through his chest. He looked down in time to see one of the figures on the white boat collapse to the floor. It must have been the person on the bow that had taken the shot. It must have been one of the others on the white boat that had screamed. Jack’s heart suddenly contorted, as clenched as a fist, as he realised the scream had been familiar. Female, definitely female… So where had he heard it before? And then he remembered: The gym. In the King’s penthouse. She’d screamed at him then too. Charlotte. Which meant… no! It can’t be! Jack looked down in horror and sure enough, now that he was closer, he could immediately recognise the two other figures standing beside Charlotte: Calvin King and Charlie. And the man on the bow of the grey boat was about to shoot them. Just like he’d shot the fourth guy. Jack forced the parachute into a dive, knowing that he had only seconds to intercept them. Otherwise the family were dead. But it was a risky move; the parachute started to spiral round and round like a whirlwind and Jack knew that if he lost control, the Kings wouldn’t be the only ones knocking on heaven’s door. He dropped fifty metres in no more than a few seconds and now he was right above the two boats, about to drop down on top of them. Five figures, but no one looked up. They were all too focused on what was happening on the water. “You know, I think I’ll go for the voluptuous daughter,” the man on the bow said. Jack saw that he had a gun – a HK USP – which he promptly turned on Charlotte. He was going to kill her. Jack let go of the handles and desperately scrambled for the sub-machine gun as the man with the pistol said his parting words: “After all, it’s only polite. Ladies first and all that…” Jack saw the finger curl around the trigger; Charlotte closed her eyes, admitting defeat. There was nothing that King or Charlie could do. They were both dead as well. The man with the pistol smiled. And then the gunshot sounded. Charlotte tensed, ready to feel the bullet puncture through her chest. But it never came. She heard King and Charlie gasped beside her so opened her eyes and stared as Franz collapsed forwards into the water, a single bullet having passed straight through the top of his skull. But how? There was nobody else here! “Watch out!” Charlotte suddenly looked up and screamed as a dark shape dropped down out of the heavens in front of her. Jack shot the Black Eagle driver twice in the chest and hurled the gun onto the boat before tucking in his legs and bombing straight into the water. There hadn’t been time for a proper landing. His head went under the surface and the parachute collapsed on top of him, blotting out the sun. Quickly Jack swam forward and kicked back up to the surface, breaking out into open sunlight and taking in a huge lungful of air. “Jack?” Charlotte screamed from the boat. Treading water, Jack turned around and waved at her. “Just thought I’d drop by,” he grinned. “Here! Let me help you out!” Charlotte and Charlie rushed over to the side of the boat and stretched out their hands. Jack swam over and grasped hold of them. With a heave he was dragged sopping wet onto the deck of the boat. The dead body of the fourth figure was lying next to him, but thankfully Jack didn’t recognise it. Calvin King hadn’t moved. He was still too much in shock. “We thought you were dead,” Charlie stammered as Jack set about removing the harness from around his chest. “Where the hell did you just come from?” “The underworld, obviously.” “What?” “Or heaven, perhaps. Think of me as a guardian angel or something.” “I’m serious!” Charlie stared up into the sky but the Tornado GR4 was long gone, a fuming Charman having already landed at the military airfield several miles away. Jack noticed that King was listening in and decided to break out his best lie. “I parachuted out of a fighter plane,” he explained, trying to act as if the incident was perfectly normal. “After I escaped, I held the pilot at gun point and threatened to kill him if he didn’t do exactly as I said. The man was pissing himself and so flew me straight over here. There wasn’t time to land so I just jumped out and, well, it looks as if it was the right call. A few seconds later, and you lot would be fish food… putting that in the nicest possible way.” Despite just saving his life, King was straight onto his case. “Where did you escape from?” he demanded. “The Black Eagle compound in Berlin,” Jack replied. “They took me there as soon as they’d captured me from near the clubhouse.” King nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.” “And there’s something else you should know too.” Jack threw the parachute off and walked straight up to King. “I know who the real traitor is.” King’s eyes widened. “Who?” “Ryan Travis.” “What!?” King looked as if he was about to faint. “Sir, I don’t have time to explain, but it’s true. Trust me. He works for the Black Eagles. He’s the one that’s been selling all your secrets.” As King considered this, Jack ran over to the controls and grabbed the steering wheel. Slamming the accelerator forwards, he then turned the boat round so that it was facing the battle. “Hey! What are you doing?” King demanded. “What does it look like?” Jack replied. The engine roared and the swift boat took off, skimming across the water like a jet ski. “I’m going to help the others.” “Oh no, you’re not!” King ran forward and snatched the wheel from him. “I’m taking these two back to shore!” “Why?” “It’s too dangerous. And they are the reason that Franz sneaked up on us in the first place.” Franz… Jack had thought he’d recognised the man as he’d shot him. Then he snapped back to his senses and shoved King away. “No!” he yelled. “I just saved your family. Now you’re helping me save mine.” The swift boat roared back towards the battle once more and Jack turned to Charlotte. “Where’s Ella?” “Ella…?” Charlotte whispered. “What about Fred and Toby as well?” Jack was so shocked he almost fell overboard. “What?” “Oh… didn’t you know? Sorry. They came on the delivery as well.” He’d been trapped in a prison cell for over twenty-four hours, Jack thought. Of course he didn’t bloody know! But that didn’t matter now. He could find out exactly what they were doing out here later. First, he had to find them. “But they might be dead!” King suggested. “We’ve got ability, but we’re being completely outgunned, overpowered and outnumbered.” Yeah, that’s the spirit, Jack thought. “I’ve got to try and find them at least,” he said through gritted teeth. “Otherwise what will Mum say when I get back?” King had no answer to this. As a father of four kids himself, he knew how distraught he would be if he lost one of them… even if it was Charlie. It wouldn’t be fair if his survived and the Bennett’s didn’t. Besides, they were only out here because they were doing him a favour. It was probably time to try and repay it back. “Fine,” King growled reluctantly, putting someone before himself for the first time that he could remember. “But watch out for the enemy. They’ve got soldiers everywhere.” “As if I hadn’t noticed.” King turned around and glared at Charlie. “Might as well make yourself useful,” he said and tossed him an assault rifle that had belonged to Terry. “If anyone attacks us, shoot them.” I’ll shoot you if you don’t shut up, Charlie thought, but they were only hollow words. Deep down, he knew he could never do anything like that. Scowling, he crouched down on the edge of the boat and started aiming down the sights at the approaching battleground. Meanwhile, Charlotte had edged up towards Jack and was now standing alongside him, watching as he wrestled with the steering wheel, trying to avoid all the flotsam and jetsam that was floating around in the water. The Zhujiang River was already known as one of the most polluted rivers in the whole world. This was hardly going to help. “You saved my life,” Charlotte mumbled, resting her head against Jack’s shoulder, even though his shirt was still soaking wet and stank of sweat. “Thank you.” “No worries, babe,” Jack replied. “Although I’m afraid to say we’re not out of harm’s way quite yet.” He nodded in the direction they were heading just as a grenade exploded and a body was flung up in the air – well, half a body. “Charlie! Prepare to start shooting, mate. Charlotte, look out for the others will you?” “I’m on it,” Charlie said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “Sure,” Charlotte nodded. “What will you be doing?” “Me? I’ll be trying to make sure we don’t get killed.” Jack smiled and kissed Charlotte on the cheek. “Here we go!” The swift boat sped into the chaos and almost instantly there were bullets flying around them, like wasps in the middle of summer. Both Charlie and King started firing and a Black Eagle soldier who’d been thrashing about in the water, unable to swim, was put out of his misery. “See them?” Jack asked, swerving out of the way to avoid a floating body that looked disturbingly like Baz. “No, not yet. To be honest, it’s difficult to see anything in all this.” She was right. So much was going on it was hard to focus on one place and the fact that Jack was making the boat swerve from side to side wasn’t exactly helping. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She knew it was for their own good. “Keep trying.” Jack looked up ahead and his jaw dropped. “Uh oh… heads down everybody!” A machine gunner was turning around to face them and they all ducked in the nick of time as the front of the boat was given a new design. The glass windscreen was already smashed so there was no need to worry about that, but bullets were pinging off the metal in all directions and Jack feared a ricochet. “Turn the wheel!” Charlotte yelled, cowering behind Jack’s body. “Get away from him.” But Jack knew better. “Then he’ll have a clear shot from the side!” Jack yelled. The gunfire really was deafening. “To stay safe, we have to keep going straight towards him.” It sounded like madness, but Jack had a plan. And as they neared to within ten metres of the machine gunner, he activated it. “Fasten your seatbelts!” he yelled and floored the engine. There was nothing the machine gunner could do. He didn’t even have time to say his prayers before the nose of the swift boat smashed straight into his idle vessel, ripping through it like paper. The follow-through was even more painful, the boat smacking him in the legs with a crunch and sending him wheeling up in the air. Jack didn’t hang around to see where he landed; he spun the wheel and brought the boat back round to face the fighting. And then Charlotte spotted them. “There!” she said and pointed at a boat almost right in the centre of the action. “I think that’s them.” Jack took one glance at them and nodded. “It’s them alright.” They set off at once, weaving quickly through the obstacles before pulling alongside the boat. The shipping vessel was not in a good shape. Thick smoke billowed out of a knackered engine, the wooden decking had more holes in it than an old t-shirt and on board, the three junior agents had been left to fend for themselves. It seemed as if they’d picked a fellow member up at one point, but that person now lay dead on the floor, a stitch work of bullet wounds in their back. Despite the blood covering his face, Jack instantly recognised it as Luke McQueen. Jack cringed with sympathy: Poor sod. He didn’t deserve it. “Is that-?” Charlie began, but Jack interrupted him. They were here on a rescue mission, not to inspect a morgue. “Ella! Fred! Toby! Over here!” They all looked over and the look on Ella’s face as she saw him was priceless. It was as if she hadn’t seen him for several decades and was only just realising that he was actually there. “Jack!” she exclaimed, so distracted that she accidentally dropped her gun. “You’re alive! But how did-?” “If one more person asks me how I escaped, I’m going to throw myself over board,” Jack announced. “Please, now’s really not the most suitable time to explain.” “Right, of course.” “Any time today would be nice!” King roared from the back of the swift boat. The three junior agents snapped into action. Toby went first, waiting for a break in the gunfire and then sprinting across the deck. The gap between the two boats was over a metre but he made the jump easily, Jack there to make sure he didn’t fall into the water. “Good man,” Jack said, patting Toby on the back. “Now make sure no one starts taking pot shots at us.” King pointed Toby to a position on the starboard side as Jack beckoned Ella over. “Come on, you next!” “No, wait!” Charlie shouted and pointed further up the shipping vessel. They all turned. Three soldiers clad in olive had leapt across onto the bow of the boat and were now bringing their machine guns, round ready to fire. “Get down!” Jack dragged Charlie down to the floor as bullets whisked over their heads. The other flattened themselves to the deck but there was barely any room in the cramped swift boat. Sooner or later, their luck would run out. “Do you have a grenade, a flash, anything?” Jack shouted to Charlie. Charlie nodded and, with his clammy hands, offered him both stun grenades from his pocket. “They’ll have to do,” Jack muttered and wrenched both pins out. “Don’t move.” “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” Charlie muttered. Jack threw the stun grenades and the three soldiers took cover, flinging themselves behind the front of the cabin as they exploded. “Keep them at bay,” he ordered to no one in particular and scrambled to his feet, running back into the open. He nodded at Ella. “Come on, quickly!” Ella got to her feet, leaving Fred alone on the shipping vessel, and sprinted to the edge of the deck. But as she jumped, her foot slipped on the wet surface and she lost her balance. She wasn’t going to make it across. Ella screamed and looked down, water rushing up towards her. But then Jack grabbed her flailing arm and pulled her up, only her feet and ankles splashing into the bloody sea before she was dragged onto the boat. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Jack muttered and pulled Ella to safety. “Thanks,” she smiled. “I guess that means you’re not a ghost then.” “Yeah, I guess not.” “Watch out!” Jack instinctively ducked as the three soldiers came out of hiding, charging down the side of the shipping vessel and taking aim once more. Part of the steering column disintegrated as the bullets hit, their cover slowly being gnawed away. “Take them out!” Jack yelled and Toby duly obliged, popping up from behind a crate and shooting one of the soldiers in the knee. The soldier grunted and fell forwards, hitting the railings with the side of his head before flipping over the edge. The soldiers quickly retreated back into cover, but not before they’d ripped out a hand grenade and hurled it at the swift boat. Jack’s breath caught in his throat as the grenade sailed towards him, moving almost in slow motion. The fuse couldn’t have more than a few seconds left before it blew. Then suddenly Charlie appeared out of nowhere, catching the grenade in mid-air and hurling it back from where it had come from. The soldiers yelled in terror and dived out of the way, but one of them was too slow. The grenade exploded and he caught the full force, shrapnel tearing into him and throwing him up into the air. On the downside, he’d acted as a human shield to protect the third soldier. “Nice catch, mate!” Jack grinned. “You should try your hand at rounders.” “Yeah,” Charlotte said from where she was sheltering at the bottom of the boat. She forced an anxious smile. “Too bad he’s shit at everything else.” “Jack,” Ella warned. “...Fred.” Jack turned and saw Fred trying to get to his feet, only to fall down again as bullets skimmed over his head. “Fred, come on!” Jack shouted. “Stop messing about and shift your butt.” “I’m trying,” came Fred’s anguished reply and eventually, with Toby and King keeping the soldier at bay, he managed to find his feet. However, just then, a chain of events was triggered with catastrophic results. It all began with the driver of a K.O boat – another swift boat – losing control. As he tried to dodge the bullets from a pursuing vessel, the boat got away from him and he found himself hurtling straight towards the shipping vessel. He managed to yank the wheel back round at the last moment, but even then it was too late. The side of the swift boat smashed straight into the shipping vessel, knocking Fred instantly off his feet. He crashed down onto the deck and landed on top of his right hand, the wrist buckling underneath him. At the same time the strappings keeping the crates together snapped from the heavy impact and suddenly the whole pile came crashing down, right on top of Fred. You could have heard the screams all the way from Lantau Island. “Oh shit,” Jack gasped. It was shit indeed. Fred was completely buried underneath the crates and Jack couldn’t see any movement. Either he was badly injured, had been knocked unconscious or…. No, don’t even go there. “I’ve got to go over. He’s in deep trouble,” Jack said and snatched up a gun. “If we don’t make it back, just go without us, okay? There’s no point all of us getting killed.” “Jack, no! Wait!” But Jack had already gone. He sprinted right up to the edge of the boat and hurled himself across the water, hitting the deck of the shipping vessel and rolling quickly out of the open. He then crawled over to the pile of crates and started dragging them out of the way. “Fred! Fred, are you alright?” He managed to pull one crate away to reveal Fred’s head; covered in blood and sawdust but thankfully all in one piece. “Fred! Can you hear me?” “Just about.” Fred grimaced and tried to pull himself out of the rubble, but suddenly his face seized up and he let out a howl of agony. “Shit! Hell that’s painful.” “What is it?” “My leg. One of the crates is crushing it. I think it might be broken.” This was not good news and Jack swore out loud, scratching his head with desperation. His hair was thick and grimy and he realised he must look like an absolute mess. “I’ve got to try and move it,” Jack decided. “It’s the only way.” “Be careful,” Fred moaned. “Sorry, kid. No time for careful.” Jack stood up only to fling himself back down less than half a second later as a grey speed boat came tearing round the corner, machine gun chattering. However, the crates formed a solid enough wall on either side of him and the speed boat soon had bigger things on its plate as a different shipping vessel started firing explosive projectiles at it. Jack stood up and grabbed the uppermost crate, attempting to fling it to the side. It didn’t matter if it went overboard. Human lives were more precious than machinery. But the crate didn’t budge. It was far too heavy. Jack stood back and rammed into it, but only succeeded in causing Fred more pain. “Ah, shit! Shit!” Fred groaned, tears stinging his eyes. “It’s definitely broken. I can feel the bone sticking out of my shin.” “Shut up and breathe normally!” Jack snapped. “Don’t hyperventilate. I’m going to get you out of this.” The crate was too heavy to move and Jack suspected it was going to be the same for most of them. He needed another plan. The first idea that came to his head was to blow them up, but unless he wanted Fred to return to England in an urn that wasn’t going to work. “What’s the matter?” Ella yelled from the swift boat. “Crates are too heavy,” Jack replied. “I can’t budge them.” “Try emptying them!” Ella shouted then was forced to take cover. Empty them? That was going to take forever! It was a stupid idea. Jack looked down at the crates and pulled out his gun. But he didn’t have a better idea. Hopefully it wouldn’t be so stupid after all. The lids were held in place by thick nails, but Jack didn’t have time to faff around with those. After checking the label to make sure it wasn’t high explosives inside, he fired a round of bullets into the side of the crate to create a hole then kicked inwards, smashing the panels open. Then, as fast as he could, he started pulling out the contents. “Just leave me. Go!” Fred shouted. “I’m only endangering you all.” “Shut it! I’m not leaving you behind and that’s final.” Jack finished removing about half of the guns inside and then stood up. “This might hurt a bit,” he warned and then lashed out with his foot. The crate was blown off the top of the pile, smashing against the far railings and disintegrating further. Brand new weapons that would usually sell for over a hundred pounds each on the black market tumbled into the water, never to be seen again. Fred managed to avoid making a noise by clamping his jaw together and Jack crouched down to inspect the damage. The bone was indeed broken. That much was obvious. His whole shin had splintered and blood was oozing out onto the deck. Fred took one look at it and convulsed into a fit of snivels. “Keep it together, Fred. It’s fixable,” Jack muttered. Now all he needed to do was remove the crate pressing down on Fred’s shoulders and he would be free. Jack created a hole in the side just as he’d done with the previous one but as he reached in to grab the first item, there was suddenly a loud bang from close by. Jack felt something smack him in the shoulder and wheeled backwards, crashing into the crates behind. His head smacked against wood and his vision went fuzzy. Oh no, not this again. Jack forced himself back to his feet as the soldier suddenly appeared behind the pile of crates having silently sneaked round the blind side of the boat. The gun in his hands was smoking, as if it had just shot a bullet. Jack threw himself to the floor and scrambled out of the line of sight as the soldier fired twice more and lunged after him. The railings in front of Jack snapped in two as the rifle shots hit them. Jack gasped in horror, but remained silent. He then waited for the soldier to come round before leaping up and smashing him in the chin with his right elbow. His left arm hung uselessly by his side and he could feel the blood dripping out of it. The soldier crashed back into the crates, but kept hold of the shotgun. Just before he shot Jack managed to push it to one side and the palm of his hand was scorched on the hot metal as the cartridge shot out of the barrel. Jack swore and kicked the soldier in the chin, sending him tumbling back over the pile. Jack jumped after him, kicking him in the privates and then smashing his knee in. But the soldier wasn’t done. He snatched up a slab of wood off the deck and hurled it at Jack. The jagged edge caught him in the face and sliced straight across his cheek, drawing blood. Bursting with anger, Jack forgot any remaining pity. He grabbed the soldier with his one good arm and slammed his head against the railings, knocking him out cold. Then he roared out loud and kicked him into the water. When Jack turned back to help Fred, there was someone already there. Heaving for all she was worth, Ella managed to pull the crate from on top of Fred and then offered her hand, trying to pull him to his feet. “Don’t! He’s got a broken leg,” Jack warned and came running over. So much adrenalin was coursing through his veins that he barely felt the bullet wound from the shotgun pellets. “You take his head and shoulders, I’ll take his legs. When I say lift, we lift, okay?” “Got it.” They got into position and, with Jack’s hand supporting Fred’s thighs, he nodded. They lifted Fred up and he screamed in agony, his broken leg jolting slightly from the movement. “Ignore him,” Jack said. “Just get him back on the boat quickly.” King had had the presence of thought to move the swift boat closer which meant that they could step from one boat to the other while carrying Fred. They deposited him down on the deck, but before anyone could start tending to him an armoured cruiser appeared from behind the shipping vessel and starting making towards them. “There!” a soldier shouted in German. “Get them!” “Run!” Jack yelled. “Just run!” King thrust the engine up to full power and the swift boat took off, steaming across the water and away from danger with Fred whimpering with every bump. They left the armoured cruiser far behind and then turned around, using the rare break in fighting to survey the situation. They’d been broken, shot at, wounded, splintered and soaked, but minus a few shards of tibia they were all in one piece. Charlie blew out his cheeks dramatically and everyone stared at him. “Surely that’s the worse of the fighting out of the way,” he muttered. “I mean, what else can go wrong?” Somehow, Jack already knew he would be eating those words for breakfast. 23The Red Sea“At least we’re all together,” Ella said. “That’s the most important thing.” King snorted and buried his head in his hands. “How are we all together?” he muttered. “I must have lost over half of my men already.” “It’s the warship that’s done it,” Toby chipped in. Even as he said it, another cannonball was fired and a shipping vessel came inches away from becoming a shipwreck. “That’s the only reason why they’re winning.” “Apart from the fact that they also outnumber us five to one?” Charlie added. “Well, yeah.” Jack looked across the water and stared at the warship. Toby was definitely right in saying that it was giving the Black Eagle’s the advantage, not only in the form of a lethal weapon but also unrivalled protection. The metal hull must have been at least several centimetres thick. Not even a rocket launcher seemed to be able to penetrate it. But that gave Jack an idea and suddenly he knew what they had to do. “We need to destroy the warship,” he told the others. “Otherwise the battle is over.” “Oh, it’s still going, is it?” Fred muttered. “I thought we’d lost hours ago.” “Shut up and listen, all of you. If we take the warship out, the enemy lose their secret weapon. They’ll be so shocked that they’ll fall into disarray, I guarantee it. Then the rest will be simple.” “And how do you propose we destroy the warship?” King asked. “Yeah, has it escaped your eyes that it’s over fifteen metres long and heavier than a tank?” Fred added sourly. “Then it should be obvious,” Jack said. “We destroy it-” “From the inside,” Charlie said suddenly. Jack smiled and nodded at Charlie. “You see. Even Mr F-Minus gets it.” “Hey!” “He gets F-Minuses alright,” King muttered, all the strength having drained out of him. “I’ve seen his report card.” “The engine room,” Jack continued. “That’s where all ships are at their most vulnerable. I know it will mean having to sneak past enemy lines, but if we can get inside, blow up the engines and then get out sharpish, the ship will be permanently out of action.” He looked at the others. “So who’s with me?” “Well not me, obviously,” Fred muttered, nodding down at his broken leg. “Yeah not you, obviously,” Jack said, “But anyone else? I can’t do it on my own what with one dodgy arm.” “I’m with you,” Ella said. “Me too,” Toby added. “Excellent,” Jack grinned. “Charlie, how about you?” “No!” King snapped and stood up. “I forbid it.” “Well, guess what? I don’t care,” Charlie replied. He turned to Jack. “I’m going to help you, Jack. Whether he likes it or not.” Jack wasn’t exactly following what was happening, but guessed that Charlie and King must have had a big argument recently. Hardly the time or the place, he couldn’t help thinking. “You’re not going,” King hissed menacingly. “You’ll just screw everything up like you always do. You’ll end up endangering lives rather than saving them.” Charlie resisted the urge to punch his dad, purely because he knew that someone would intervene before he could. So instead he turned the other cheek and ignored him. Inside he was still fuming. “I’ll prove to you that I’m not useless,” he muttered under his breath. “Just you see if I don’t.” “So, Jack,” Toby said eagerly as the four teenagers going on the sub operation all huddled together. “What’s the plan?” “The plan? Oh, you’re going to love it.” “Is it simple?” Charlie asked. “Oh yeah, very simple.” “Go on then,” Ella said, “While we’re still young.” “Okay, here it goes… We run in, blow everything up and then run out again.” Jack looked at the others and grinned. “What could be more straightforward?” “Hang on,” Ella said. “You don’t actually have a plan, do you?” “Of course I have a plan,” Jack grinned. “The plan is to blow up the warship and make it out alive, hopefully all in one piece. It’s how we get to that point that I’m not quite sure about, but if I’ve learnt anything over the past couple of days it’s how to improvise.” They all stared at him as if he was criminally insane. “At least that way you catch them by surprise…” *“Are we ready?” “Yep.” “Yes.” “Uh, kind of.” “Kind of? What the hell do you think this is?” “Sorry. I mean, yes. Definitely.” “Better. Now just remember the golden rule about a sabotage operation and you will come to no harm.” “And what’s that?” Jack grinned. “If the place is about to blow… just go.” “Right… thanks, Jack.” “Okay, pep talk over. On the count of three we get moving. One… two… three…!” Charlie jumped out from beneath the boat wreckage first, then Jack, then Ella and then finally Toby. “Crouch down,” Jack muttered and Charlie obliged. With a great leap, Jack jumped onto his back and nodded at Ella. “You’re on next.” There was a slight wobble as Ella landed on Jack’s shoulders but they steadied themselves by leaning against the metal hull of the warship. They then waited for the speed boat wreckage to stop shifting underneath them then Ella gave the signal to Toby. Being the smallest and the lightest, Toby was the obvious candidate to go top of the chain. As he pulled himself up onto Ella’s shoulder, he lifted up with him a rope which he then placed over one shoulder. The human tower wobbled alarmingly, but they kept their balance. “Ah Christ, my back,” Charlie muttered and then looked up. “Oh God, that’s not a nice view.” “Shut up, you muppet,” Jack muttered. “Toby, attach the rope before anyone sees.” The rope had come from the side of the shipping vessel and was usually used for emergencies such as when someone falls into the water; the rope can be thrown and the person dragged back to safety. Today, it was going to have a different use. As the boat swayed beneath Charlie’s feet, buffeted by the waves, Toby quickly poked his head up and scanned the deck of the warship. A soldier disappeared below deck and then the coast was clear. Quickly, he tied the rope around the railings, performing a double knot just to be on the safe side, and then looked down. “All done.” “Excellent,” Jack said. “Up you go then. Watch out for enemies. We’ll be right behind you.” Toby grabbed hold of the railing then hauled himself up onto the deck. As soon as he was up, he dropped the end of the rope back down so that the others could climb up then sprinted into the nearest cover. Jack watched as the rope fell down in front of him and smiled. The rope was going to be long enough. As Ella started to climb up onto the ship, a K.O swift boat cruised round behind them. King nodded in their direction and, after making sure their boss was alright, the newcomers steered the boat away so that they didn’t attract any unnecessary attention. Charlie went next, but just as he was nearing the top his hands slipped and he dropped several feet. “Shit,” he muttered. “Rope burn.” “Just get a move on,” Jack said. He waited until Charlie was pulling himself over the railing then started climbing himself, gritting his teeth to drive out the pain in his shoulder and then wriggling onto the deck. While Jack caught his breath, Ella untied the rope and threw it down into the water where it landed with a splash and started drifting away in a current. They could have kept it for when they were making their escape, but Jack had already told them that it would be unlikely that they’d have the time to climb down. It wasn’t worth the risk of it being spotted. “Now nobody should know that they’ve got four intruders on board,” Jack said and nodded towards the staircase leading down into the galley. “Let’s go.” The inside of the warship was just as rugged as the outside. Strength over style had definitely been in mind, Jack decided, hurrying down a metal staircase with the others in his wake. They all kept light on their toes so that the metal didn’t make a sound. “The engine room’s going to be right at the bottom of the ship,” Jack whispered to the others as they paused along a gangway, listening out for trouble. “That way it keeps the air temperature as cool as possible.” “We’re not here for a bloody science lesson,” Charlie muttered. “Get moving.” A soldier was standing just round the next corner, helping himself to a box of machine gun ammunition on a shelf. Jack put his finger to his lips and nodded at Toby. The message was clear; this was his takedown. But as Toby stepped forward, the soldier suddenly noticed the movement reflected on one of the bullets and spun round, his machine gun still running on empty. He raised the weapon, ready to use it as a bludgeon, but then saw who it was and stared. A fourteen year old boy... Dressed in tracksuit bottoms... What the hell was he doing here? And how had he got on board? “What the-?” Before the soldier could work out that he was an enemy member, Toby leapt forward and kicked out, smashing him straight in the plums. The soldier groaned and fell to his knees, the gun clattering down beside him. Toby then brought his foot down on top of the soldier’s head and he slumped to the floor. “Nice job,” Jack said and the others hurried round to help him with the body. There was a store cupboard further down the corridor and they dumped the body in there, closing the door and then snapping the handle off so that nobody could open it again. Then they crept on. They found the engine room soon after descending down another flight of stairs. Even though from where they were crouching they couldn’t see inside, they knew exactly what the room was. The noise and the heat were the biggest giveaways. The whole floor seemed to glow red from the hot furnaces while the sound that echoed off the metal walls was like the thundering of a train. There was no use trying to speak; Jack simply pointed towards the noise and they all understood him. Ella went first to scope the area then beckoned the others over, putting a finger to her lips. Jack hurried over and they crouched just outside the engine room. The heat was like a gas oven and the Sahara desert all rolled into one, the air thick with steam that clogged up in your nostrils. “How many guards?” Jack mouthed and Ella held up two fingers. Jack nodded and crept forward, glancing into the room and then sneaking inside. There was no chance of the two people hearing them and, even if they had, it didn’t look as if there was much they could do. They were both engineers, dressed in greasy grey overalls with hands covered in oil and grime. Their faces were covered in black smudges, as if they’d been messing around in a coalhouse. Jack snuck up behind the first and took him out with a chop to the head. The other engineer didn’t even hear him fall to the floor. The second engineer followed in similar suit and Jack waved the others over. “Weren’t very many!” Charlie shouted and only because his voice box was used to it did anyone hear him. However, Jack wasn’t surprised by this. The warship was expecting attacks to come from the outside, not within. That was where all their main defences lay – outside on the deck. Down here, in the hull of the ship, they were expecting no trouble. But trouble was what they were about to get. Lots of it. Jack nodded at the others and they all pulled out a large pack wrapped in brown paper from their pockets. Rummaging through the rubble on a stricken shipping vessel, it had taken several minutes to find what they were looking for. But then they’d found it, spilling out of a cracked crate: plastic explosive. Each weighed just under two kilograms and had come with three timers: ten seconds, a minute and five minutes. They were metal capsules containing a strong acid and once the acid had corroded through the metal, it would trigger the explosive and cause it to detonate. They would be using the one minute timer. Five minutes would have been a lot safer as it gave them more time to get away, but it would also increase the risk of the explosion failing. The engineers couldn’t be left on their own all the time and if a soldier walked down and noticed the explosives, it would be all too easy for him just to remove the timer. One minute would be more of a rush, but it was doable. Besides, they’d found their way in. Now all they needed to do was retrace their steps. They all took out the correct timers – checking the markings to make sure – then fed them into their packages. They’d gone over where to position them back on the boat and wasted no time in placing them: Jack’s went on top of the main fan turbine, the sticky back keeping it securely in place, then he looked at the others. They all raised their thumbs. Jack nodded and the timers were bent. Even before the first acid started eating at the metal, the teenagers were spinning round and racing for the exit. They had sixty seconds and counting to get off the ship and as far away as possible. Because when the explosives blew, nothing was going to get in their way. They tore up the first staircase, Ella leading the way, and reached the gangway. “This way!” Ella shouted and turned right. “No wait! I thought it was this way!” Toby said, stopping and pointing left. They all stared at each other. “It was this way. Come on,” Charlie decided and barged past Ella, taking the right route. The others had no choice but to follow him. Within fifteen seconds they reached the final staircase and sprinted out into the open. There was a soldier patrolling the stern of the ship, gun in hands, but he didn’t even have time to shout before Charlie had crashed straight into him, flattening him like a pancake. “Watch where you’re going, you knob!” Charlie shouted and stamped on his face, knocking him out cold. “Leave it,” Jack said and grabbed his friend by the shirt. Ella and Toby had already reached the railings and, without hesitating, hurled themselves over the edge. Toby got his jump all wrong and ended up belly-flopping, but Ella managed to pull the leap into a perfect dive at the last moment and sliced through the water like a knife. “You first!” Jack said and shoved Charlie forwards. Charlie toppled over the railings and plunged head-first into the sea. Then Jack threw himself after him. The water was cold, murky and more polluted than a landfill site, but Jack ignored all this and started swimming, clawing his way forwards and trying not to swallow any water. Who knew how many different bacteria and parasites were floating around him, not to mention all the human blood? Millions, Jack guessed, many of them infectious, but at least with a disease he would stand a chance. With an exploding ship…? Think again. “Go!” Jack yelled and shoved Charlie forward in front of him. “Don’t thrash for God’s sake. Swim!” “I’m trying,” Charlie spluttered and his head went under the surface. Jack couldn’t wait for him without endangering himself. He gave Charlie another yank then sped on ahead. That was when the ship exploded. In the last few days alone Jack had seen cars explode, boats explode and people explode. But none of them even came close to the devastation of the warship. A raging fireball the size of a building blew outwards, like a huge dragon breathing fire. Jack would go with the germs any day of the week and dived under the surface, kicking downwards and feeling the flames scorch the air above him. Military equipment, debris, human limbs… they all wafted past him as he swam further, but he didn’t dare surface. Not yet. Not until he was sure that there couldn’t be a second explosion, a chain reaction. He waited for twenty seconds, holding his breath and feeling the seawater sting his eyes, before finally kicking upwards. Jack broke to the surface and immediately felt hands reaching under his arms. “I’ve got you, Jack. Here we are, up you get.” Spluttering and shivering from his traumatic swim, Jack allowed himself to be pulled onto a boat and then doubled over, coughing up seawater, phlegm and God knew what else. “That’s right. Get it all up, mate.” Raj patted him hard on the back and then turned to look at the boat floating next to him. “Who else did you say there was, sir?” “Charlie… my son,” King replied anxiously. “He’s in there somewhere. Under the water.” “There!” a voice yelled and Jack distinctly recognised Ella’s voice. She was safe as well. Thank God. The boat moved underneath Jack as he lay sprawled on the deck and, a few moments later, a body was being dumped alongside him. “Ah jeez, yuck,” Charlie retched, spitting saliva onto the deck next to him. “That water tastes like shit.” “Then you should be used to it,” Raj grinned, “Considering all the bullshit that comes out of your mouth.” “Brilliant,” Charlie muttered. “You really know how to tend to a sick patient, don’t you, Raj?” Jack sat up and found himself lying on one of shipping vessels. The swift boat was beside them, bobbing in the water, with Toby and Ella being tended to by a pale-looking Charlotte. Add Charlie to the equation and that meant they’d all made it out. Phew, Jack thought. Fortunately, the same couldn’t be said of the soldiers on the warship. The smouldering carcass was quickly becoming the next lump of rubbish to pollute the waterway, sinking under the surface like a miniature version of the Titanic. The explosion had also taken out a Black Eagle speedboat and an armoured cruiser who’d been sailing past, adding to the overall destruction level and death toll. Considering how many soldier’s there’d been on the warship deck when they’d jumped off, Jack guessed the number was easily into double figures. “Shit, your arm,” Raj said, suddenly noticing the big rip in Jack’s new and now extremely dirty and soggy jumper. “What happened?” “Bullet to the shoulder,” Jack said and gave it a wriggle. The hole was now covered in a mound of congealed blood, the scab looking strangely like a wax seal on an old fashioned envelope. “It’s a bit stiff, but I’ll live.” “Best let someone take a look at it,” Raj decided and helped Jack down into the well of the boat. “We can’t lose our best fighter because his arm’s fallen off.” “You flatter me, really,” Jack muttered but he barely had the strength to smile. Jack sagged down with his back against a broken crate and a figure turned to him; it was Tori, hands covered in fresh blood. “Oh no, not another one!” she cried in exasperation. “Afraid so,” Jack smiled weakly. The boat suddenly started moving again, Rex at the helm. “And what do you mean another one?” Grimly, Tori shuffled aside to reveal another body. It was Brain. And he was bleeding badly. The wound was in the side of his waist and immediately Jack could tell it wasn’t a bullet wound or an injury caused by flying shrapnel. A huge gash had been torn into his flesh and blood was leaking out an alarming rate, as if pouring from a hose. Already a huge pool had formed around his legs. The features were distinctive and Jack recognised it instantly. A knife wound. It couldn’t have been anything else. And all told, it made Jack’s injury look like a paper cut. Jack swore involuntarily and his body went numb. Brain’s skin was paler than milk and although there were beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, he was shivering uncontrollably, his lips bluer than the sea that surrounded them. With a heavy heart, Jack knew that there was nothing Tori could do for him. There was nothing that anybody could do for him now. He was on his last legs, the last traces of life draining out of him like the blood. He had perhaps second left. Jack shuffled over and rested a hand on Brain’s shoulder. King’s second-in-command barely seemed to feel it. “What happened?” Jack asked. “It’s alright, you can tell me.” Painfully, Brain turned his head and stared at Jack. His eyes were hollow and empty. “Ryan Travis,” he whispered. “That’s what happened.” Even though his voice was so faint there was no mistaking the loathing. Brain spluttered and flecks of blood speckled his trousers. “The bastard stabbed me in the back when I wasn’t looking. Wrenched the knife out and left me bleeding to death on the boat rather than having the guts to finish me off.” “You’re not the only person he’s been stabbing in the back,” Jack growled, teeth gritted. “He’s been backstabbing all of us. Ever since the first ambush and God knows how long before that as well.” Brain nodded. “As soon as he attacked me, I knew. We trusted him and he deceived us all. Even Calvin. You’d better be far away from him when he finds out because he’s going to-” Brain didn’t finished the sentence; he erupted into a fit of violent coughs, chunks of internal tissue flying out from his bloody mouth. “There’s nothing I can do about it now,” Brain continued. Every word seemed to send a spasm of pain through his body. He barely had the energy to form the correct words. “He got me. But you, Jack… you can still do something. Kill him for me, Jack. Please. Take my revenge.” “What if he’s already dead?” “He’s not already dead. I just know it. The bastard’s too damn jammy to go down that easily.” “I’ll pass the message round,” Jack said. “Then everyone can help hunt him down.” “Good lad,” Brain grinned and his teeth were soaked in blood. “And when we both meet up again in hell, then I’ll show him who is boss. And who has always been the boss.” A pained smile still stretched across his face, Brain’s head lolled to the side and he didn’t move again. “Is he-?” Tori began. Jack nodded. Tori snivelled, wiping her eyes on a clean patch of her shirt and then kneeling down beside Jack. She pulled out an antiseptic wipe and folded it around her finger. “Here, let me clean that for you.” She reached out to dab the wound, but suddenly the whole boat shook and she fell forwards, stabbing the wound instead. Jack screamed and swore out loud. “Sorry!” Tori cried and the wound start dripping blood again. “What the hell was that?” Jack yelled and scrambled back onto his feet, once more driving out the pain. He looked out across the water and found that, unsurprisingly, the swift boat was way ahead of them, carving a path across the estuary towards the port of Macau. Carbon fibre body compared to heavy metal shipping vessel – it wasn’t exactly a fair race. But the more pressing issue was what was coming up behind them: two Black Eagle speedboats. It was a big shunt from the stern that had caused the sudden jolt and Rex veered the boat to the right to try and avoid a second hit. But the problem was that the speed boats were moving twice as fast and although they couldn’t judge Rex’s moves, they knew they could easily keep up. A soldier standing in the closest chaser raised a weapon and bullets slammed into the back of the boat. “Go faster!” Charlie yelled, quickly getting away from the edge of the boat and sheltering behind a crate. “I can’t!” Rex roared. “The engine’s maxed out!” “It’s this heap of junk,” Jack said, staring down at the aged shipping vessel. “We’ll never outrun them in this.” They needed a new boat. That much was obvious. “The speedboat,” Tori realised with excitement. “We need to get one of the speedboats.” “But how?” Charlie said. Rex, too busy concentrating on keeping them alive, didn’t answer. But Raj had the answer: “We’ve got to hijack it.” Jack nodded. “Which means first things first, getting rid of the crew.” Jack was out of action because of his arm which meant the others would have to take up the shooting role. While Rex did his best to keep them out of the line of fire by swerving around, Raj and Tori took up shooting stances behind a line of crates and aimed their weapons. “Go for it!” Jack yelled. The sound of returning gunfire filled the air and one of the soldiers was hit in the chest, slumping over the side of the boat. But this only spurred the enemy on and so they were right on top of them again, forcing them all into cover. “Rex, get us away!” “I’m trying!” Rex stood up to get a better voice of where he was going, but he stood up slightly too much and that was his fatal mistake. A bullet passed straight through the back of the skull and he was dead instantly, toppling backwards and almost crushing Tori underneath him. Tori screamed and things weren’t made any better when one of the speedboats crashed into the back of them. Jack was left with no choice. “I’ve got the wheel,” he yelled and scrambled up to the helm. “Keep up the shooting!” Jack quickly took stock of their surroundings and that was when he spotted it; a small rocky island sticking out from the water. There were hundreds of them dotted around the mouth of the Zhujiang River Estuary and this was just one. About the size of several detached houses side by side, it would easily hide the shipping vessel from view. And that’s what gave Jack his idea. He wrenched the wheel round and the boat swerved to the side, almost sending the others toppling onto their backside. He ignored their shouts of complaint and, just as he’d hoped, the two speed boats came after him. Without hesitating he reached the island and started to turn around it, keeping as close to the rock as possible. Behind him, the speedboats disappeared from sight. “What are you doing?” Raj yelled. “We can’t get a clear shot.” “Then neither can they!” Jack shouted back. He glanced quickly behind him and prayed that his plan would work. If it didn’t, it could well be the end for all of them. The two speedboats had seen the shipping vessel disappear behind the rock and both drivers had known instantly what to do. If one boat went right and the other went left around the rock, then they’d have both sides covered with the shipping vessel trapped in between. The K.O members would have nowhere to go and then they really would be easy pickings. However, what they hadn’t anticipated was that as soon as both speed boats were in sight, Jack would yank the wheel round at the last moment and dodge out of the way. That left both boats ploughing towards each other and there was no time to stop or turn. Both drivers could only grasp the wheels and pray. They hit each other almost directly head on. There was a great crunching of carbon fibre as both noses smashed into each other, crumpling inwards and sending all the passengers flying forwards. One of the boats was launched up into the air and came crashing down on the island, the sharp rock tearing through the bodywork and drawing fuel. A moment later there was an explosion and those on board who weren’t dead already were finished off. Meanwhile, on the second boat, the driver had soared straight into the windscreen, breaking his neck with a loud crack. Two soldiers had plunged straight into the water, the runaway boat then ploughing straight over them. And the final soldier had cracked open his skull on the side of the boat, convulsing in random fits before finally succumbing to his injuries. Jack stared back at the crash scene and grimaced. “Hmm, I think that went slightly too well,” he admitted. He spun the boat round and drew up alongside the floating wreckage which, up until moments ago, was supposed to have been their quicker route back to shore. “You know what, I think I’m fine where I am,” Charlie said, staring down at the smoke billowing out from the ruined engine. “I think I’m going to agree with you there, Charlie,” Tori nodded. Raj raised his eyebrows and looked at Jack, the latter urging the vessel forward and resetting their course towards Macau once more. “First time for everything, I suppose.” 24Stitched UpThe others were already waiting for them on the quayside by the time the old shipping vessel finally pulled into the dock. Jack misjudged the braking distance and the nose nudged into one of the wooden piers, but no one complained. Drained, scarred and drenched from head to toe, they were just glad of making it back to dry land in one piece. The swift boat had picked up several stragglers on the way, most of which were sprawled out on the jetty with their wounds being tended. Jack was relieved to see that Barmy and Rocky were among them. Grimes? Less so. As for Travis, there was no sign of him anywhere. Several people came running over to help and Jack allowed Ella and Barmy to drag him onto the jetty. He’d lost almost all feeling in his arm and was feeling slightly light-heated from the loss of blood. Still, at least they were safe now. “Brian!” King called with delight as he spotted his colleague snoozing in the boat. But then he took a second look and his face went pale. Tori shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. I did everything I could.” “Who?” King demanded. “How?” “We can discuss that later,” Grimes snapped, his whole body contorted with anger. “But first, we need to root out this traitor once and for all.” He stared at each member in turn, trying to psyche them out with his glare. The process didn’t take him very long; there were only about ten members left. The ambush had been a total bloodbath for both sides. “There’s no need,” Jack said as Grimes looked accusingly in his direction. “I already know who it is.” “Who?” “It’s Ryan Travis.” They all glanced at King, but for once he didn’t seem surprised. Jack figured that so many and so much of his plans had gone wrong over the last few months, nothing could shock or surprise him anymore. Instead, King just sighed with heavy shoulders and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair in exasperation. “This is what you told me before. And you are absolutely certain that-?” “Yes. Nico Muller told it to me himself. I saw the two of them together in Hong Kong.” “It makes sense,” Barmy added quietly. “He was always there in the senior meetings when the delivery details were being handed out.” Suddenly all the emotions burst out of King at once and he roared like a dragon, smashing his fist down on the nose of the boat. Then, just as abruptly, he doubled over and started sobbing, tears splashing down into the water. “All these hours of preparation, all the money that has gone into it, all the lives that have been risked,” he whimpered under his breath. “And it’s all ruined. Ruined! All because of one god damn son of a bitch who I thought I trusted!” Everyone else turned away, leaving him to his own thoughts, apart from Charlotte who, after a suggestive nudge from Ella, went over to her father and put an arm around his shoulder. “You’ve still got us,” she whispered in his ear. “Isn’t that the most important thing? We’re here. We’re safe. I know your company means a lot to you, Dad, but it isn’t your whole life. It’s not the end of the world.” Eventually, King nodded and wiped a tear from his eye. Charlotte stayed by his side. “Well come on, you plum,” Jack said, elbowing Charlie in the ribs. “What are you waiting for?” “What? Why me?” “You’re his son, you inconsiderate moron. His eldest son. Go and make him feel better.” Charlie stared at Jack then sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” Gingerly, he walked over. “Uh, dad...” King didn’t look up. Charlotte patted him on the back and nodded at Charlie, urging him on. “Um… ahem, I’d just like to say… I- I’m sorry that I was rude to you. I, uh… I’m sorry that I ever said that I hated you or that I wish I’d never been born. They were all just lies. Heat of the moment. I didn’t mean any of them. The truth is, the only reason I ever wanted to join K.O in the first place was because, one day, I wanted to grow up to be just like you: happy and successful. I wanted to make something good out of my life. I wanted to be someone people could be proud of, who people could stand back and admire.” He bit his lip hesitantly, wondering if he should continue. “I mean, you might have a dimwit for a son and a Barbie doll for a daughter-” “Hey!” “Just kidding, Charlotte. But the point is… I bet you’ve achieved more already than any of those nerds at school ever will in their whole entire lives. Sure they’ve got brains, but you’ve got drive, you’ve got passion. And you’re about a billion times cooler! Believe it or not, Charlotte’s dead right… you might have lost lots of people today - good people, great people – as well as the strength in depth of the organisation… but we’ll always be here for you, Dad. Now and always.” Jack stepped forward and patted him on the back and Charlie smiled. “Just brings a tear to my eye,” Toby mocked and Ella cuffed him sharply round the back of the head. King stood up, turned round and then looked down at Charlie. For once, he too was trying to put on a smile. “And do you know what else is the truth?” he said. “I never thought I’d say it, but honestly, I’m really proud of you, son. The way you volunteered to help blow up the warship, even though the odds were against us and you were already in a bad state. That took real guts. And, above all, bravery and determination is what makes a K.O member unique. You displayed both today, even when it was standing up against me because you wanted to continue fighting. I should have listened to you, Charlie. I should have listened to you a long time ago. But now I’m going to make things right. Son…” King placed his big hands on Charlie’s shoulders and looked straight across at him, deep into his eyes. “...should you choose to accept it, I would like to make you an official honorary member of K.O. And to be quite frank, it’s the least that you deserve.” Charlie’s face cracked into a huge grin and he dived into his father’s arms before nodding. “Should you choose to accept it? You’ve got to be bloody joking, right?” King laughed. “I thought you might say something like that.” He looked up at the others. “Ladies and gentlemen… our newest recruit!” Everyone raised their hands and applauded apart from Grimes who, still scowling, muttered under his breath: “Oh great. The day just gets better and better.” Jack laughed and stamped on his toe. “Liven up, you old goat,” he grinned and then stared whistling. King patted Charlie on the shoulder then stepped forward. Now that he and his family had settled their differences, he looked a lot more like his usual self. “No point crying over spilt milk, I suppose,” he said and stared down at the two boats. Somehow, after everything, they were still floating. “Even if it has gone slightly sour.” “What do we do with the remaining cargo?” Rocky asked. King shrugged. “Just leave it,” he said, not looking at all bothered. “After all the noise and commotion out in the bay, the pigs will be sure to be sniffing around here any time soon; particularly now that the heat’s died down. There’s no point trying to salvage anything – to be honest, there’s nothing there worth keeping. We’ve still got money. The goods can be replaced again. And besides, getting caught by the police trying to lug this junk back to the base really would be rubbing salt in the wounds.” Jack looked out across the water and watched the final trails of smoke curling up into the atmosphere, as if all the dead bodies were being cremated in the centre of the devastation. He realised that if the battle had taken place on land on the busy motorway linking Hong Kong and Macau as had originally been planned, the death toll would have been a lot higher. The sea might have been open, but at least innocent civilians couldn’t get in the way. “I can’t see any movement,” Toby said suddenly. “Does this mean we’ve won?” Raj shrugged and muttered, “I guess so.” But King had a different opinion. And, of course, everyone listened to him. “Today, no one’s a winner,” he said solemnly. “There are only losers. We’ve both taken heavy losses and, truth be told, have suffered more than we’ve gained as a result of the battle. We’re both weak, we’re both wounded. But at least us lot are still alive. I suppose that’s something.” He stared one last time at the grave of so many of his colleagues (he couldn’t bring himself round to watch the headlines news later on) and then turned away from the water. “Come on then, people,” he sighed and started walking towards the centre of town. “We’ve got an angry Arab to see.” *But the Arab wasn’t there. Nor was Ismail or any other of the Sheikh’s close advisors or bodyguards. “Are you sure this is the place?” Jack asked, looking around the quiet food court. Unsurprisingly for midday during the middle of the week, there weren’t many customers about. Although the extortionate prices on some of the menus could have something to do with that, Jack thought. “There aren’t many people.” “That’s the point,” King muttered. “During the week it’s almost always empty which should make it easy to spot him… or for him to spot us. And it’s near the quayside, just as he asked, so that we can deal with the handover of goods quickly.” “How was he planning to transport the goods back to the UAE?” Jack asked, looking around. “By magic? By a special portal perhaps?” “I don’t know,” King muttered, “Although I see what you’re getting at. If they’re somewhere about then there should be a big truck or a tanker nearby as well.” “And so far the biggest thing we’ve seen,” Jack concluded, “Is the price tag for the plate of fresh lobster.” King looked over at him and shook his head. “Honestly...” There were six of them standing in the food court: King, Ella, Toby, Raj, Grimes and Jack. The others had all gone off to the local hospital, Barmy driving them in a white van that they’d managed to break into and hotwire down by the quayside. (They’d already broken about fifty different governmental laws today. What difference would a few more make?) Aside from Fred’s broken leg, Rocky had suffered mild concussion from when he’d hit his head against the deck of the boat and Charlie was being checked out as a precaution in case he’d ingested harmful parasites. As the resident doctor, Tori had accompanied them and advised that Jack came along too, just to get his shoulder looked at. But Jack had refused. Dealing with the Sheikh was a bigger priority right now… If only they knew where he was. “He’s not here, is he?” Ella said eventually after ten minutes of fruitless searching. They’d walked round each restaurant in turn, peering inside to see if he was sitting down with a plate of spring rolls or something, but most of them had been totally empty. He was nowhere to be seen. “He couldn’t just be late, could he?” Toby suggested. “Considering we were supposed to meet up over an hour ago?” King replied. “I think that’s highly unlikely.” “So what? He just hasn’t bothered turning up?” Jack said. King nodded grimly. “It looks very much that way.” “But what’s the point of that?” Toby exclaimed. “Exactly,” Ella nodded. “He was the one that requested the order in the first place. Why arrange a delivery and pay a vast quantity of money to make sure it happens and then not turn up to collect them?” Jack nodded and smiled. “I mean, how lazy can you get? Is he expecting home delivery or something?” Raj grinned. “Imagine that… all of us turning up on little scooters like we’re delivering a stack of pizzas.” “I tell you what though: I bet they’d go a damn sight faster than that poor excuse for a boat.” Jack and Raj both burst out laughing and King scowled. “Shut up, you two. I’m thinking.” “Does it hurt?” Raj mumbled and they both start giggling into their hands again. Ella shook her head. “They’re such a bunch of toddlers.” “Tell me about it,” Grimes muttered and stared at them both with disdain. Then again, he stared at everyone with disdain. Suddenly King started walking across the food court and everyone hurried to catch up with him. “What is it?” Grimes asked, posing the question that was on everyone else’s lips. “I’ve had a thought,” King said and pulled out his wallet. “And not a very nice one. Now come with me. I’ve got a phone call to make.” *It was precisely three hours later and the surviving group were reunited again. King had paid for five rooms in a nearby 4-star hotel using his virtually unlimited credit card and that was where they currently resided. At the moment, they were all crowded in one room surrounding the TV apart from Grimes who’d grumpily informed the others that he was feeling tired and had gone for a nap down the corridor and King who was busy with his important phone call next door. Jack was sat down on one of the beds and winced with pain as the sterilised needle was stabbed into his skin. “Oh stop being such a baby, Jack,” Tori said and quickly preceded to finishing off the stitch across the bullet wound; the bullet itself lay in a glass cup on the bedside table having been removed, rather painfully, with a pair of tweezers and a cloth. “Yeah, well, you aren’t the one that’s been shot in the shoulder, are you?” Jack muttered. He winced again as the needle re-entered his skin and turned to watch the television, hoping that the programme would distract him. Unfortunately, Barmy had insisted on putting on the local news and, inevitably, there it was flashing on the screen in front of them: live footage of the boat wreckages out in the Zhujiang River Estuary. The reporter was saying something about local gang warfare, but Jack didn’t really pay attention. The images told him everything he needed to know. Just then there was a knock at the door and Rocky got up to open it. King walked in, placing the mobile back in his pocket as he did so. The door closed and the others all looked at him expectantly. “Well?” they all asked. King sat down in one of the leather armchairs by the window. The sun was just beginning to shine from behind the dense, grey clouds of this morning. “That was Sheikh Al-Jaber on the phone just now,” he said calmly. “I rang him up using the emergency hotline he gave me at the start of the business deal and, unlike with the delivery, he actually picked up.” “Lol,” Toby smiled to himself. “What did he have to say?” Barmy asked. “Nothing. That’s the problem,” King replied. “I greeted him politely, but as soon as he realised who I was he completely freaked out and hung up.” King leaned forward and rested his chin on the top of his hands. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s not normal.” Tori nodded. “Especially for someone with his power and reputation. If he knew he wasn’t going to turn up for the second delivery, surely he should have been expecting a call?” “Precisely, Tori. If you ask me, it’s almost like, for whatever reason and despite our pre-settled agreement, he’s trying to avoid us at all costs. The question I’m asking is: why? And is it just me, or is it strange that it should occur directly on the day of the second delivery?” “It’s almost as if he was expecting the delivery not to arrive and just thought: Sod it. I can’t be bothered to go,” Raj added. King nodded. “A very good point, Raj.” And then suddenly something in Jack’s brain came back to him, the two pieces clicking together seamlessly like connecting rails on a track. “Hang on a minute… do any of you remember when we first saw the Sheikh straight after the first ambush?” he asked. Several people nodded. “Did anyone else notice apart from me, but when we stepped out to greet him, from his direct body language it looked as if he was shocked or surprised by something? It was almost as if…” “…He hadn’t expected us to turn up,” King finished and Jack realised that the Head of K.O had already thought all this through and come up with the conclusion for himself. “Which begs the question, doesn’t it? This time round, did he think or know for certain that we weren’t going to turn up? Or, in other words, did he think or know that there was going to be a second ambush?” King sat back in his seat as a series of gasps sounded around the room. Toby was slow to pick up on what was being said, but eventually even he got the gist. “It seems to me,” King continued, “As if the Sheikh was told by someone not to expect us to turn up with his delivery and so not to bother going at all. Which means, quite possibly, it could have been the Black Eagles themselves who revealed this to him.” “But why would they do that?” Ella asked, genuinely puzzled. “The Sheikh’s doing business with us – surely that makes him an enemy?” “That’s what I thought,” King agreed. “But I’m afraid the facts suggest differently. We can’t be sure, but it sounds like the Sheikh might be in secret legion with the Black Eagles – for how long, I’m not sure. And it would be just my luck if we were to find out this was all true. “So, now that one way or another the two deliveries are over, that leaves us two options for our next course of action: One, attack the Black Eagle compound and exact our revenge on Travis for all the sacrifices he has cost us. Or two, we pay a visit to the Sheikh in his homeland… and then attack the Black Eagle compound. Frankly, at this moment I’m leaning towards the second. The Sheikh is supposed to be on our side and it hangs in the balance whether he has formed an alliance with the Black Eagles or not. So I intend to go over to the Emirates and carry out a little investigative work. We will have a formal chat with the Sheikh and his advisors. And we will find out the truth.” 25Paying A VisitAfter the coldness of swimming in the Zhujiang River Estuary and then having to place an ice pack on his sprained ankle to help it heal, the hot, arid weather of the United Arab Emirates provided a welcome relief. It had been easy enough finding out exactly where the Sheikh lived; a man as powerful and rich as he, everyone in the country would have probably heard of him. King had used his extensive resources to phone a contact and, after finding out that the Sheikh owned a large mansion near the port in Dubai where he lived with his family and his hundreds of guards, had booked the first flight from Hong Kong to the UAE. But he wasn’t going to travel alone. All the surviving K.O members were coming with him (apart from Fred who’d been forced to rest at home) and King had bought out every single spare seat in business class to accommodate them all – after everything that happened over the past few weeks, they were all going to stick together. Ryan Travis had gone so they didn’t have to worry about another traitor. This time they were going to be a proper team. There were ten of them in total, but only four were crouching underneath the shade of a line of palm trees near the perimeter of the Sheikh’s mansion. The other six had checked into a five-star hotel – all costs covered for, of course – and were currently waiting there, awaiting further orders. If anything went wrong, they would be acting as backup. But King wasn’t expecting anything to go wrong. Then again, he’d also thought that before the first delivery… The mansion was immodest to say the least, similar to the size and shape of the White House. Perhaps he saw himself as some sort of Middle Eastern ruler, Jack contemplated. After all, in oil-rich countries such as the UAE and Saudi Arabia, power and wealth was everything. The brick in the walls had been cut into regular squares, painted orange on the outside to deflect the heat and merge in with its sandy surroundings. Al Mamzer beach was not half a mile away and Jack wouldn’t be surprised if he found that the mansion backed right onto it. There was a large balcony set before wooden French windows on each of the five floors apart from the first where a grand arch welcomed any wealthy or important guests. This entrance was manned by no less than four security guards with a further five down by the main gate. They were all dressed in traditional white robes or dish-dash-ah – like the Sheikh had been at the abandoned airfield in China – but even from fifty metres away, Jack noticed the distinct bulges by their waists. These people were armed and probably had orders to use this power whenever they deemed it necessary. However, despite the high level of security, there were no razor wire fences or hi-tech security cameras scanning the perimeter; that would have ruined the picturesque view that the Sheikh no doubt would have paid millions of dollars for. Instead, the mansion was surrounded by a simple low brick wall, the same colour as the house, with curved terracotta tiles lining the top. This allowed the quartet to watch clearly from their hiding place in the shadows as a garage door round the side of the mansion opened and a white Ferrari California, roof down, swept out into the open. “Nice,” Jack grinned. “I fancy myself one of those.” “Bring this bastard down and I might just buy you one,” King muttered beside him, staring at the man in the driver’s seat. Unsurprisingly, it was Sheikh Al-Jaber with his personal bodyguard, Ismail, in the passenger seat. Their red and white checked shumags – traditional scarf-like head covers – flapped in a warm breeze as they rolled down to the main gates and waited for the guards to open the wooden gate and let them through. By the time they were on the main road and heading towards the centre of Dubai, they weren’t alone. In a rented 4x4 several car lengths behind, the K.O team were on their tail. *Twenty minutes later, Jack was standing in the middle of a busy souk wondering how on earth he’d come to be here. Not forty-eight hours ago he had been locked up in a German prison cell and now here he was, admiring colourful sequins and pushing past loud, irritating shopkeepers several thousand miles away! Berlin to Dubai via Hong Kong in the space of two days; his carbon footprint must be massive! In fact, if there was a member of Greenpeace anywhere around, they’d probably start throwing a tantrum. The Sheikh had parked up a few hundred metres away on the Deira side of the creek running through central Dubai and the K.O team had followed him here to one of the local souks. Spices, perfumes, textiles… most of them specialised in something. With this one it was gold. “You want gold? I give you good price,” a shopkeeper yelled, suddenly stepping in front of Jack and jangling gold necklaces in his face. “Go away,” Jack muttered and pushed past, trying to keep up with King, Grimes and Ella up ahead. Walking through a crowded souk was an experience that only came with going to the Middle East and Northern Africa, but while he’d heard some people fantasise about how exotic and lively all the stalls were, Jack couldn’t exactly say that he was enjoying his own experience. The shopkeepers – or hawkers as they were most commonly known – were the worst thing. They came at you from all directions, pleading and shouting like beggars, and for some reason they always seemed to think that they had the best prices and they had the most unique gifts for sale when in fact what they had was the same as everyone else. Couldn’t they just see that he wasn’t interested and leave him alone? He was here to follow someone, not buy knick-knacks for rip-off prices. Then there was the crowdedness. Jack remembered the platform in Berlin when he was running away from the two soldiers and then the tube train as he finally made his escape; compared to the souk, they both seemed like roomy apartments. The souk was so busy Jack barely had room to breathe. Whenever he tried to move he would end up treading on someone’s toes and when the person went to shout at him, their voice would be drowned out by about fifty different others. It was hot, dry and claustrophobic and Jack felt like he was being compressed inwards from all angles. It was hell. Bring on Christmas shopping in Westfield’s any day of the week, he thought to himself. “You have girlfriend?” a hawker said, leaping out from his stall and blocking Jack’s path once more. “You buy her gold bracelet. Very cheap.” “Move, you oaf,” Jack growled and quickly barged through a gap so that he didn’t lose the others. However, thankfully, they’d stopped moving several metres up ahead and instead were examining some wooden beads hanging down from one of the stalls. At least, that’s what it looked like. But straight away Jack knew their eyes were on a different prize. “Target acquired,” King whispered as Jack caught up with them and they all stared through a gap between the stalls at the next aisle along. The Sheikh and his bodyguard were wandering among the crowd and paused to admire a range of golden ornaments displayed on a table. Ismail pointed to a small statue of an elephant, but the Sheikh shook his head and moved on. “When do we move in?” Jack asked, wary of the fact that the nearby hawker was eyeing up them eagerly. Dressed in thin, white linen shirts and navy shorts that they’d managed to pick up from Duty-Free, it was clear to everyone that they were foreign tourists. It kept them cool and comfortable in the sweltering, stuffy conditions, but for hawkers it was like walking around with a big sign on your head saying: An idiot abroad is walking this way! Altogether, there must have been almost a hundred others milling around the souk that were clothed the same way, but at least that meant they wouldn’t look out of place. King put up a hand as a hawker tried to approach him then stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We’re now in the centre of the souk, well away from any possible exits,” he said. “I’d say now’s as good an opportunity as we’re going to get.” They set off again and turned left at the end of the aisle, sticking close together; it was very easy to get lost in a place like this, not only because of how crowded it was, but also because every single aisle looked exactly the same as the next. “You remember the plan?” King whispered and the others nodded. “Then let’s do it.” Jack and Ella stepped ahead of the group and both pulled down sunglasses and baseballs caps to cover their face; the Sheikh knew both of them from the first delivery and, even in a place as crowded as this, was likely to recognise them if he saw them face on. Then they started walking straight towards the Sheikh and his bodyguard, flexing their fingers as they did so. “Ready?” Jack asked as they closed to within five metres. “You bet.” Ismail had been standing behind the Sheikh, watching his back while staring over his master’s shoulder as they examined Christmas gifts for the Arab’s relatives. But not any longer. Ismail suddenly found himself being dragged away, two strong pairs of hands gripping his arms and shoulder. Before he could scream, a handkerchief was stuffed into his mouth and a hand clamped over that, muffling any cries for help. It wasn’t for another few seconds that the Sheikh realised his bodyguard had gone. And by then it was too late. The Sheikh felt the sharp point of a blade pressing into his back and a hand clasped his shoulder, preventing him from moving. “Hello, Mr Al-Jaber,” a voice crooned. “Fancy seeing you here.” In his panicked state, it took the Sheikh several seconds to recognise the voice. “Mr King.” His voice quivered with fear. “What are you doing here?” “Shopping for a birthday present,” King snarled. “What does it look like?” “Uh-” “I think it’s plainly obvious, Mr Al-Jaber, why I’m here. I want my money. I was promised money in exchange for goods and I am still waiting for my payment.” “I can explain,” the Sheikh cried. In the disorganised bustle of the souk, no one noticed anything out of the ordinary. “Please, I’m sorry!” “You will be,” King growled, “Once I’m finished with you.” King nodded at the others and jerked his head towards the exit. It was time to leave. “But you’re right about one thing, Mr Al-Jaber. You’re going to explain everything to me. And I mean everything. Whether you like it or not…” *They took the Sheikh back to the hotel and dumped him on one of the beds, trussing up Ismail against the bedpost with a length of thick rope. He looked angrier than a beaver that’d just had his dam destroyed and Jack couldn’t blame him. He’d only been looking for Christmas presents… and now this! “Would you like anything to drink, Mr Al-Jaber?” King asked politely, pointing to the minibar. “It really was scorching out there.” “No thanks,” the Sheikh muttered. His shumag and ogal were now hanging lopsided off his head, dripping with sweat. “Probably wise,” King nodded, grabbing a lemonade and cracking off the top. “I don’t want you swallowing down any of the truth.” He took a long swig of his drink and then sat down in an armchair across from the Sheikh. Jack, Ella, Grimes and Rocky were in the room with him. Now that the abduction was complete, the others had gone down to the hotel casino to enjoy themselves. Charlie had made a bet with Jack that he could breakeven on the poker table with Toby being the witness: fifty quid to whoever won. After witnessing Charlie’s heroics at the table back at the Golden Sun, Jack’s money was less than safe. “First, I want to know precisely why you did not turn up at the meeting point yesterday,” King asked, leaning forwards in his chair. “I was there. Why weren’t you?” “I- I didn’t think you were going to turn up.” King smiled triumphantly; so he’d been right all along. “And what the bloody hell gave you that idea?” “I was told that you wouldn’t be there,” the Sheikh trembled. “I was told that you were never going to make it to Macau and so to save my time by not turning up.” King snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you. Ever heard of the phrase ‘time is money’? If that’s the case, then you should at least be able to spare a few hours of your day to honour a deal.” “I’m sorry…” “Spare me the crap, Mr Al-Jaber. Now who told you that we weren’t going to make it?” “Pardon?” “Was it the Black Eagles?” “Or to put it another way, a group of psychopathic German bastards,” Grimes added with a growl. The Sheikh nodded. “I think that’s them. The name sounds familiar.” King looked at the others and a look of understanding passed between them; it was all as they’d first suspected. “So you’ve heard of the name,” King continued, “Do you know anything else about them?” “What do you mean?” Suddenly the Sheikh looked very anxious. He fidgeted nervously on the bed, wringing his sweaty palms together. All his life it had always been him in control. He had always been the one with power over everyone else in the room. For once the roles had been reversed and he wasn’t coping well with it at all. “Mr Al-Jaber, please don’t try and take me for a fool, because I can assure you, I am not. From your body language it is quite clear that you have something to hide, something that either you do not wish to tell me or someone else does not wish for me to find out. Now, I’m only going to ask you once so I advise that you don’t try my patience.” King glanced over at Grimes. “If you do, I might have to start taking drastic action. As I’ve already said, time is money in this business. So you’d better start paying up…” King licked his lips. “What do you know about the Black Eagles?” The Sheikh shrugged one shoulder and stared down at the bed sheets. “I know they’re a criminal organisation, very much like yourselves,” he mumbled. “They originate from Germany and specialise in the smuggling and trade of illegal goods. I guess it’s no surprise that they’re your biggest rivals.” “Who told you that?” “They did.” King nodded. “Have you been in contact with them often?” The Sheikh hesitated then shook his head. “No, they’ve only spoken to me a few times. And never face to face. In fact, I don’t even know any of their names, let alone what they look like.” “And why are they interested in you?” King demanded. “Money?” The Sheikh shook his head. “Then what?” The Sheikh didn’t move. “Tell me, god damn it!” “They wanted to use me as bait.” The Sheikh buried his head in his hands and sobbed. “There, I said it!” King glanced at the others in confusion. Bait, they were all thinking? This wasn’t in the script. Money, yes. But bait? “Mr Al-Jaber… sit up, look at me and start acting a bit like your reputation.” King waited until the Sheikh did as he was told then continued. “We can help you. There’s obviously something troubling you and if you tell us what it is, we can help you. But first I need to hear everything that has happened between you and the Black Eagles. You might find that getting it off your chest will be a big benefit to all of us.” The Sheikh sighed and wiped an eye with the back of his hand. “Fine, I’ll tell you. Then will you promise to let me go?” “I’m not promising anything until I’ve heard what you have to say, Mr Al-Jaber. If I’m pleased with it, then I’ll consider. So I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say, this had better be good.” The Sheikh nodded and took a deep breath. Then, he began. “It all began soon after I arranged the big order with you, that day in the café in downtown Hong Kong. Somehow this rival organisation, the Black Eagles, found out that I’d been doing with business with you and were angry, jealous even. Honestly, I have no idea how they found out and still don’t to this day, but I suspect that they were annoyed that I’d chosen to turn to you and not them in my search for military weapons.” “And why did you choose us?” King asked with interest. “Because your reputation preceded you, Mr King,” the Sheikh replied. “It was a known fact that if you wanted to buy anything illegal and in a large supply, it was you that they should come to.” King smiled. “Good, you’re learning. Now please, do carry on…” “So one day soon after, the Black Eagles decided to show me the supposed error in my judgement by getting their own back. They sent over a group of soldiers here to Dubai and waited outside the local private school for the end of the school day to finish. It seems they’d decided that punishing me physically wouldn’t be enough. Not when I’d lost them a huge business deal in excess of ten million dollars. Instead, they didn’t target me at all.” The Sheikh snivelled and Jack could see tears the size of peas forming in his eyes. “They targeted my children. I was in my office, working. My wife was at the spa, completely oblivious to the danger. The guards that had been sent to the school to escort my children safely home had been disposed of a full hour before the bell went. My children… little Ayham and Basilah… they didn’t stand a chance. The names mean ‘brave’, you know? That’s why I chose them. But all the bravery in the world couldn’t have helped them there. The Black Eagle soldiers kidnapped them straight off the street and slipped off into the crowd before a single person had noticed. As for me, I was still working as if nothing had happened. Nothing at all. The first thing I knew of their disappearance was when they didn’t turn up in time for dinner. Neither them nor the guards. And then, later in the evening, just as I had plucked up the courage to ring up the police… they called. “It wasn’t a very long phone call. The gist of the conversation was this: We have your children. They are safe… for now… and in captivity. But if you ever want to see your children alive again then you are going to have to do everything that we say. “Of course, I was left with no choice. I couldn’t let my children die – not the pride and joy of my whole world. Not when they were totally innocent, being dragged into a cruel, dark world in which they didn’t belong. Mr King, you have children. Surely you must realise that, despite all the wealth and power in the world, nothing can buy something as special as a family.” “They were blackmailing you.” The Sheikh nodded. “I’m sorry… there was nothing I could do. That was over two months ago. I still haven’t heard from either of them since.” “And so what did they want from you? What orders did they want you to follow?” But already, King had an idea of what they might be. He just wanted to be sure. “They wanted me to help them get to you. It seems they already had their desires set on destroying your organisation, wiping you out of contention and then filling the gap in the market that you’d left behind. I suppose that’s why they knew about the business deal in the first place.” King nodded. “We had a traitor in our midst,” he said. “But he’s gone now.” “Gone as in dead?” “Unfortunately not. But he will be… as soon as I’ve got this little conversation over with.” “They didn’t tell me exactly what they had in store for you – they didn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut - but I suspected it must be some kind of ambush or attack after they directly asked me to arrange the locations for the meeting points according to their preference. The abandoned airfield in China and then the docks in Macau – both were places that they researched and chose because there were areas in between that would provide perfect spots for a sudden ambush. They told me both of these locations and it was my job to then present them to you. If I failed in convincing you or failed to report any changes to the arrangements immediately then they would kill my children. It was as simple as that.” “And now that you’ve completed your half of the bargain?” King said. “What now?” “I can only imagine that something went wrong with the ambush,” the Sheikh conceded, “Because I haven’t heard back from them since they suggested we meet in Macau.” King shook his head and spat into the bin beside him. “You say that we and the Black Eagles are similar organisations,” he said. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. We always keep our promises, Mr Al-Jaber, which is why we turned up at the docks with some of your goods even after fighting through several waves of enemy attacks – warships, speedboats, cannonballs, the lot. We never give up, even when faced with the impossible. The Black Eagles on the other hand… they’re just a bunch of dirty cowards. I know Nico Muller well and if there’s a bigger scumbag in the world, I’ve yet to meet him.” “Apart from Ryan Travis, of course,” Jack added. “I can tell you now, Mr Al-Jaber, that it was never in the Black Eagle’s intention to let you have your children back. Because while they still have hostages, they are still in control. While they still have your children, you are willing to do absolutely anything for them. Essentially they have become puppeteers with you dangling from the end of their string. The powerful, rich person that you are… why would they ever sacrifice that position? They could make you do anything they want.” “I know… I know…” The Sheikh shook his head and rubbed his reddening eyes. “I made a terrible mistake ever letting Ayham or Basilah out of my sight. What kind of a father am I, letting my children be snatched away like that? I want you to know, Mr King, that I despise the Black Eagles. I never wanted to betray your trust, but can’t you see? I was left with no other option. A ransom for a billion dollars I can live with. But my children? That is something else entirely. And to assist them in bringing about your downfall was the only reprieve they offered me.” The Sheikh snivelled and a single tear splashed down onto the bed sheets. “If only there were some way of rectifying the situation,” he mumbled. “If only there were some way of wiping out the Black Eagles once and for all, but at the same time finding out where my children are being kept before it’s too late.” “I know where they are.” They all turned to stare at Jack, who’d said the sentence almost without thinking. As the Sheikh had been speaking, the answer had just suddenly come to him and, before he knew what he was doing, it had slipped out. “What?” King said. “Where?” the Sheikh cried and leapt off the bed, grabbing Jack by the arms. Grimes and Rocky reached for pistols by their waists, but King put up a hand. Everything was under control. “Where are my children?” “They’re at the Black Eagle’s secret complex several miles outside of Berlin,” Jack answered calmly. “Locked up in a prison cell one floor underneath the main building.” “How do you know this for sure?” King demanded. “Because I was there, wasn’t I?” Jack replied. On the flight over from Hong Kong, he’d had plenty of time to tell the story of his mysterious disappearance and escape to the other members. Now they all knew what had happened down to a t. “I was locked up just several cells down from them before I was taken and dumped in the arena.” “Why did you not try and release them?” the Sheikh yelled in his desperation. “While you had the chance?” “I was meant to be dead,” Jack retorted. “I didn’t have time to stop and help and, even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. All the cells were locked from the outside and required a key to open them. I had no idea where those keys were and, I’m sorry, but I was running for my life. At any moment, my escape could have been discovered and I couldn’t afford to waste a single second messing around looking for stuff. That’s just the way it was.” The Sheikh muttered a swear word under his breath and Jack grabbed him by the dish-dash-ah. “Okay, so what if I did set them free… what then?” Jack snapped in the Sheikh’s face. “They would be two kids running around like headless chickens in the middle of a foreign place. How am I supposed to get them out like that? Alone, I only just escaped and even then it was by the skin of my teeth. If luck hadn’t been on my side, I could easily not be here right now. Two kids sobbing nonstop in my wake was hardly going to help, was it? The guards would shoot us all down as soon as they spotted us, regardless of whether they were being used as bartering items against you. After all, ever since they were taken you haven’t heard or seen from them once. For all you knew they could have been dead and yet you’d still keep on doing the Black Eagle’s bidding in the vague hope that you’d see them again. And how deep in shit would you be then, huh? “You might have billions of pounds, Mr Al-Jaber, but you can’t buy everything. I’m the only person there is that knows the inside of the compound and that’s going to be vital if we’re going to rescue your children all in one piece. Face it, the information I know is more important than any team of soldiers you can afford to rustle up. Without me, they’re as good as dead. So if you ever want to see your children alive again, I suggest you listen to and respect everything that we have to say.” The Sheikh backed off, looking stunned, but quickly he came to realise that everything Jack was saying was true. He slumped back on the bed, his shoulders sagging, and nodded. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.” He snivelled. “But you know for sure… that they’re alright, I mean?” “I heard them,” Jack replied. “They were sobbing in their cell, but not out of pain. More out of misery. Hopelessness. I don’t think they were badly injured. That was a few days ago. Hopefully, they’ll still be okay.” The Sheikh nodded, satisfied by the answer. “Then it seems we’ve got ourselves a plan,” King announced. He stood up and started pacing up and down the room, stroking his chin. “You want to rescue your two children who are being held hostage in the Black Eagle compound and we want to get our revenge on the organisation by destroying every single living member.” He stopped walking and stared at the others. “Is it just me, or do we all want the same thing?” “You mean we attack the compound?” the Sheikh said. “Release my children, take them to safety and then-” “-blow the place up?” King grinned and his eyes lit up like fireworks. “Yes, I think that could work.” “Then it seems we know our next move, Mr King,” the Sheikh said. King nodded. “There is just one small problem though,” he said. “Those of us here today may have survived the second ambush but a lot of my men did not. We are short-staffed to say the least and, although I can rope in the rest of the guards from our secret base, there still won’t be nearly enough to bring down a whole enemy compound. What are the defences like, Jack?” “The compound’s in the middle of nowhere so sneaking up on them won’t be easy,” he admitted. “There’s a one way in, one way out system at the main entrance and the perimeter is surrounded by a steel fence several centimetres thick, higher than a ladder and topped with barbwire. No climbing over that.” “But a tank could break through?” King asked, his mind already at work. Jack shrugged. “Possibly, I’ve never tried. However, I managed to smash through the main gate in a lorry so nothing’s impossible. Inside, the corridors are crawling with guards, but like always, they may have the advantage in raw numbers but they don’t have anything on us in terms of ability. Therefore, all we need is an assault team large enough to rival their defensive forces and we’ll have a good chance of making it out successfully.” At that, they all turned to stare at the Sheikh. “You were saying not two months ago, Mr Al-Jaber, that the reason you were buying all these weapons was to create an army strong and worthy enough to rival the militaries of the western world,” King said. “Now is the chance for your men to prove it.” He smiled. “Wouldn’t you agree?” The Sheikh noticeably hesitated, but then he remembered his children; that his children, his pride and joy, were still locked up inside the compound. Terrified. Innocent. Helpless. He made his decision and stood up. “How many are you going to need?” he asked. He already had his phone out in his hand, ready to contact the huge military base in Al Minhad and request their services. All he needed was a number. King smiled. “A few hundred of your finest men will suffice.” The Sheikh nodded and typed in the number. Before the last digit he paused and looked up at King. “On one condition,” he said, “That it is my men’s main priority to get my children out safely. When they are completely out of harm’s way, then we help you bring the compound to its knees.” King considered this for a moment then nodded. “Mr Al-Jaber, I think we have a deal.” They shook hands. “And this time,” the Sheikh concluded, “Nothing will get in its way.” 26Eye Of The StormThe very next day, before the assault on the Black Eagle compound was due to begin, the K.O team were boosted by the arrival of twenty guards from the secret base in Hong Kong. It was leaving the defences weak and vulnerable, but with the Black Eagles hopefully confined to their compound after the failure of the second ambush, hopefully no one was planning an immediate attack. The twenty guards were not alone. They’d arrived in two large Sikorsky CH-53 Super Stallions – one of the largest heavy-lift transport helicopters in the world – which had also contained boxes of weapons, grenades, bulletproof armour and, as King had personally requested, a military armoured vehicle commonly known as the Jackal. It wasn’t in the same league as a tank (it wouldn’t have fit on the helicopter), but it was still a formidable addition to have on any side. Heavily armoured and surprisingly sprightly for such a cumbersome vehicle, King was quietly confident that, this time, the Black Eagles would have nothing to match them. And not only that, but there were three K.O members standing with the rest of the guards that Jack had been convinced he’d never see again. “Back from the dead, are we?” King smiled, clapping Scarlett on the back and welcoming her back to the group. Li was standing just behind her, as was Zhang who appeared to have recovered from the illness that meant he missed the second delivery. “If you mean back from hell, then yeah,” Scarlett replied. “Two miles through polluted water Li and I had to swim to get back to solid land! Two! Plus, we had all the TV crew from the local news channels buzzing over our heads as we swam.” King grinned. “You always were a tough nut to crack, Scarlett.” “Yeah, well… try not to leave us behind next time,” she mumbled, but King’s evidently buoyant mood quickly rubbed off on her and she couldn’t stay grumpy for long. “It’s good to have you back, man,” King said to Zhang and promptly started distributing out all the equipment. Zhang was so surprised that he didn’t receive a bollocking for missing the delivery that he dropped his Kevlar helmet when King tossed it to him. “Bloody hell,” Charlie muttered, staring round at the piles of equipment surrounding him. “There’s enough stuff here to kit out the whole Newcastle United squad.” “Well then, no one should be without anything,” King replied. “I’ve learnt my lesson from last time and this time we’re going in prepared. The Black Eagles will have the advantage no longer.” He grabbed a crate of hand grenades and then started carrying them round to each member of his team, as if they were apples that he’d just picked up from a nearby orchard. “Take as many as you want, there’s plenty to go round,” he said. “The bastards aren’t going to know what hit them.” But the pièce de résistance was a large black chest made out of toughened plastic, a bit like a tool box, that was stuffed full with enough plastic explosive to bring down a whole building. Because that, of course, was going to be the exact purpose of it. King flicked open a panel in the lid to reveal an inbuilt timer, the digital screen currently blank. Jack knew that inside the container, wires would already have been inserted into the Composition C4 plastic explosive, linking it to the trigger. “As soon as the attack begins, I shall start the timer,” King announced to the group. “Fifteen minutes should be more than enough, I think, for us to kill as many enemies as possible and then get back out again.” “How much is in there?” Jack asked eagerly. “Just a couple of tonnes,” King grinned excitedly. “Enough to bring down the whole compound no problemo.” “And have you told the Arabs about this?” Rocky asked warily. “Of course,” King replied. “They’re on our side for this, don’t forget. I’ve also already requested that each soldier wears one of these and, for obvious reasons, I expect you to keep hold of one as well.” King handed out cheap, plastic digital watches that couldn’t have cost more than a few quid each, but which Jack suspected King probably got for a whole lot less. Jack took his and adjusted the strap before attaching it around his wrist. “As soon as the bomb has been activated, I ask that you each start the electronic timer on your watches. This will give you an accurate idea of how long you’ve got left to escape. If you’re still inside by the time the clock hits fifteen then you might as well start saying your prayers because this little baby’s going to show no mercy.” He tapped the bomb like a favourite pet. “It’s designed to bring the whole compound crumbling to its foundations and that’s exactly what it’s going to do, regardless of how many people are still inside.” “What’s stopping someone from disarming it once it’s been placed?” Grimes asked. “A ten digit code, that’s what,” King smiled. “And even then the keys are fingerprint sensitive. Only I can activate and deactivate the bomb. No one else. Honestly, you worry too much, Grimbo. Smile for once. Carpe diem. Enjoy the moment. I’ve got everything planned out and under control, you’ll see.” On the opposite side of the field five miles from the exact position of the Black Eagle’s secret compound, the Sheikh’s battalion of soldiers were also getting prepared. There were two hundred of them in total and all of them were trained professionals. However, an elite dozen of them handpicked by the army commander himself, had an even greater reputation. And today, they’d been given a special job different to all the rest. The commander’s name was Fathi – Arabic for ‘victorious one’ – and, unsurprisingly, he wasn’t used to being on the losing side. Like name, like nature; he was going to be the one that would lead the elite squad into the depths of the compound in search for the Sheikh’s children. The request had come directly from the rich Arab himself… and he wasn’t expecting failure. Coming with the elite squad would be Jack. As the only one who knew the layout of the compound, it was pivotal that he should come along to point out the precise whereabouts of the prison cells. In return, they would offer him unlimited protection. After all, as Jack himself had stated, without his knowledge their task would suddenly become a lot, lot harder. Ten minutes later, Calvin King and Fathi met in the middle of the field and shook hands with each other. They’d never seen each other before, but each knew who the other was. “Are your people ready?” King asked, adjusting the army webbing clipped around his waist. In addition to the SA80 rifle hanging from around his neck, he also had an M9 pistol in a holster by his hip, a UMP sub-machine gun strapped to his back and a commando knife strapped to the inside of his thigh. Any more weapons and he was practically a walking armoury. “Of course,” Fathi replied and saluted. “We are waiting upon your orders, sir.” “Good. That’s what I like to hear.” King checked his watch and stared out across the horizon. In the distance, a blood red sun was just dragging itself into view, throwing splashes of colour across the sky. “We start advancing in five minutes. It’s time to give these bastards a rude awakening.” King returned to his team and they all gathered around him, forming a circle. They could tell what was coming up next: “Gentlemen, ladies, there is something I ought to tell you before we do anything else today. And that is that this might be the last few days of K.O’s survival.” A few people raised their eyebrows, but no one gasped; deep down they knew it had been coming. Their ship had been caught in a storm once too often… and now it was finally sinking. “Ever since Torpedo were destroyed we’ve been slowly weakening and I’m afraid the recent enemy attacks are likely to have been the nail in the coffin. You can’t run an organisation without workers and, right now, there’s only us left. I knew it was going to happen eventually and, unfortunately, I am right. You don’t survive for long in the world of crime. Even Torpedo were eventually brought to their knees and, for a while at least, they seemed untouchable. That’s just the way it is. “If you ask me, the criminal underworld is a bit like the tectonic plates that make up the Earth. Somewhere in the world land is being destroyed, pushed into the mantle where it is promptly melted down into nothingness. But at the same time, at the same rate, somewhere else in the world magma is bubbling up to the surface and new land is being created. It is a constant cycle that is always chopping and changing, never still, never at peace. That is why it is so hard for the government to track us down. But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end at some point. And I fear that we are the next to collapse. “But don’t despair. If we’re going down, then the enemy is going down with us. And by that I mean, of course, the Black Eagles. While there is still breath in my body I will use every ounce of it to crush them, to bring them to justice. And I’m hoping you will too. Members of K.O, they started this feud between us… “Now we’re going to finish it.” *Kurt Schmidt had been working for the Black Eagles as a security guard for almost twelve months now and he had to admit, it was good work. Having left school with limited qualifications when he was eighteen, for several years he’d flitted from small-time job to small-time job, hoping beyond hope that the next one might be the one where he’d strike gold. Now twenty-five, he’d finally found where he belonged. It was easy and simple work, if not slightly boring and tedious when there wasn’t much to do. But, to be honest, Kurt preferred it that way. When he’d first joined the organisation he’d been given proper training about how to handle a gun, but he’d never been brilliant at it. If he had the choice, he would rather not have to use it at all. It had been a short stint as a nightclub bouncer that had caught the boss’s eye – a mysterious man named Nico Muller who Kurt didn’t often see much of. Kurt had sworn an oath that he would never tell of the organisation’s existence and whereabouts (he knew his life would be the forfeit if he did) and, since then, life had gone on smoothly. Most weeks were overwhelmingly uneventful. Sometimes a vehicle might stray too close to the main entrance after taking a wrong turning down by the industrial estate or someone might find that a folder of order details had disappeared off a desk, but nothing was ever more exciting than that. In fact, since Kurt had been working there, false identification had been the most common cause of security alerts. Once the whole compound had had to be evacuated when one of the workers claimed that a crate of time bombs had accidentally been triggered in the packaging room. In fact, all that had happened was that the face of a digital watch had reflected off the surface of one of the bombs. But a few days ago had been different. A few days ago there had been a proper break in and, rather irritably, the intruder had got away. Kurt had been on his tea break when the siren had gone off, echoing round the complex like the bell for lessons back at his secondary school. Dropping his mug of coffee and snatching up his machine gun, he’d been forced to run to the main entrance where all the guards were ordered to conform in a red alert. But by then it had already been too late. Kurt had heard that not one of the guards that had set out in the chaser cars had come back alive. Secretly, he was glad that he was such a slow runner. The one bad thing about the job meant early starts or, in some instances, night shifts. They were by far the worst things, particularly when the building you were guarding was about as warm and comforting as a graveyard from a horror film. It was still half six in the morning and the sun was only just beginning to creep into the sky as Kurt parked his second-hand VW Polo at the back of the compound before making his way into the building via the staff entrance. “Morning, Kurt.” “Looking tired, Kurt.” “Your coffee’s already waiting for you on the table, Kurt.” Kurt was welcomed by the normal chatter from his colleagues as he walked into the guard’s room near the centre of the compound and removed his jacket. Bulletproof vest and machine gun were already waiting for him on the bench and he quickly got ready, finishing off his coffee and then heading out towards the warehouse for his morning shift. Kurt was thirty minutes into his shift when he heard it: a low whirring noise that seemed to be come from up above him. He turned to one of the other guards, a guy he got on quite well with called Jan, and called out to him: “Here, Jan. Did you hear a noise just now?” “What noise?” “Uh, it was a kind of whirring. A bit like a generator or an engine.” Jan stared at him, smiled and shook his head. “I think you’ve been at the old whisky bottle, haven’t you, Kurt?” he grinned. “I knew you couldn’t stay away for more than a few weeks.” “No, I’m serious.” Kurt paused and listened again. “There! There it is again!” Jan listened and this time he heard it as well. But he just shrugged. “Probably just the air conditioning,” he muttered and got back to his patrol. However, by then, everyone in the warehouse could hear it. Workers placed heavy crates down on the floor beside them and started wandering over to the doors. Frowning, Kurt decided to follow them. After all, if something suspicious was going on, it was his job as a security guard to investigate. He pushed past several workers – “Excuse me, guard coming through” – and stumbled out into the open. Within seconds, they all saw the source of the whirring noise. Two Sikorsky CH-53’s were hovering above their heads, rotors spinning in a blur of metal. Kurt and the others stared up in amazement wondering what they were doing here? Could it be more of Nico Muller’s soldiers returning back from the operation in Hong Kong? It was certainly possible… But then Kurt found out the truth. They all did. These helicopters were no friendlies. They were foes. All of a sudden over a hundred metal canisters dropped from the two helicopters, raining down on the workers and guards like chunks of masonry from a collapsing building. People screamed, but the worst was still yet to come. They were gas canisters and as soon as they hit the ground thick smoke blew outwards, turning the morning sky into an impenetrable winter’s fog. Nobody could see anything. They were as blind and helpless as baby puppies. Except people didn’t shoot puppies, did they?*In all the confusion, and with the two helicopters drawing all the attention up in the sky, not a single guard noticed as the large army of K.O members and UAE military soldiers surrounded the complex and prepared to attack. The moment for silent and deadly was over. Now it was time for all guns blazing. “Start your timers!” King yelled through a microphone and punched in the passcode. There was an audible beep and red digits flashed on the screen. The bomb had been activated. “The countdown has begun!” The Jackal had lined up fifty metres from the gate and as the first signs of firing began, the accelerator was floored. A five tonne monster barrelling along at eighty miles per hour – the recently repaired gate didn’t stand a chance. The Jackal burst through the defences and soon the Arab soldiers were spilling into the compound, occasional K.O members dotted in their midst. Barmy was scurrying around the edge keeping close to the fence, Calvin King in tow and making sure that his colleague was well protected. Like a pirate sprinting towards his ship with a heavy treasure chest, Barmy was hunched over slightly with the bomb container in his arms, weighing him down. But still they were making good progress. The enemy were stunned, dazed, and slow to react. Their target was the boiler room near the heart of the complex, full of pressurised gas and machinery. The equivalent of the engine room upon the Black Eagle warship, it was the location that would bring out the most satisfactory and devastating results. And clearly, King wanted the bomb readied and placed before the enemy had a chance to gather their senses and realise what was happening. The Arabs took the fight straight to the Black Eagles guards and let loose, mowing down anything that moved; workers, guards… they all came toppling like trees. With Calvin King in charge it wasn’t so much an assault as a total annihilation. Twice now they’d tried to destroy him. Now it was payback. Lock gun… check. Magnesium flares… check. Radio… check. Emergency transport… “So you’re sure that a vehicle will be waiting to pick us up?” Jack shouted across at Fathi. Crouching twenty metres from the perimeter of the compound, the elite squad were making their final preparations. The idea was that the other Arab soldiers would run in first and clear away most of the enemy forces. That meant, when it came to finding the prison cells, hopefully the way through would be a lot clearer. “Yes, Jack. Trust me.” Fathi pointed over to a line of off-road vehicles painted in desert camouflage. “As soon as we arrive back with the Sheikh’s children, they will be ready to pick us up.” Jack nodded. “Fine.” They turned and watched the battle as it spread out in front of them. At first the Black Eagle guards had been taking a beating, but as they retreated inside the buildings and more and more forces began to appear they were slowly putting up a stronger resistance. Stun grenades flashed. Machine guns rattled. Jack’s knee started bouncing up and down in agitation. He’d promised himself that he’d never come back here. Not after the first time. Never in a million years. Yet, here he was, rifle in arms. And he was about to go in. Fathi signalled and the squad moved forward, forming a human shield around Jack with Fathi leading the way. As part of the deal to help them, Jack had been promised all the protection they could offer him. They sprinted into the courtyard and were suddenly plunged straight into the action. Bullets whistled over their heads and both flanks of the elite squad turned and fired at the enemy guards. Thermal scopes were attached to each of their guns, allowing them perfect visibility through the smoke. One Arab soldier went down, but it didn’t matter. The line all shuffled along and the gap was quickly closed. “Which way?” Fathi yelled back at Jack. Above them, about a dozen ropes dropped from the two helicopters and the soldiers inside started to descend onto the roof of the compound. It looked as if King really was planning to attack from all angles. Once all the soldiers were out, the helicopters banked away and retreated to a safe distance. For now, their work was done. “Straight inside the building,” Jack shouted, making a split second decision. “I’ll get my bearings from there.” The front doors had been blown apart by a grenade explosion meaning the pathway was clear for them to enter. They emerged into a dank hallway with about as much colour and cheer as a pavement slab. There had once been a reception desk and a couple of chairs to one side, but now all that remained was some bundles of stuffing and a few broken pieces of wood. “This way,” Jack said and pointed to the corridor directly in front of them. On his previous visit to the Black Eagle compound Jack hadn’t come along this way, but using common sense he could figure out roughly where he wanted to be heading. The warehouse that was right next to the prison cells was at the back of facility – the opposite location to where they were right now. Running around the side of the building would have been easier and quicker, but it would also have been a lot more exposed. Jack knew the elite squad were here to protect him, but he didn’t want to send them on a death march. Halfway down the corridor, three guards suddenly burst out from a room on the right. The front soldiers all raised their weapons, but the danger had already been nullified. As it turned out, the guards had been running away and Jack soon found out who from. There was a burst of loud gunfire from inside the room and the guards all fell, one on top of the other. Then Grimes strode out into the corridor. He looked across, nodded at Jack and then quickly moved on into another room. “Come on, let’s run,” Jack said. At the end of the corridor was a T junction that stretched for almost fifty metres either way. Jack realised they must have reached the edge of the arena and on the other side of the concrete wall in front of him would be Deathville itself. Jack wondered if they’d removed all the blood stains from the alleyway yet. Jack chose the right route and they all hurried along, army boots smacking against the hard floor, before Jack found what he was looking for: a staircase leading upwards. If his calculations were correct, it would take him straight up onto the balcony. Suddenly there was a shout from the end of the corridor and two guards appeared, weapons already raised. “Up the stairs! Go!” Fathi yelled and Jack scrambled into cover. Meanwhile, four soldiers had dropped onto their stomachs into the prone position and, in the space of time it took to blink, had lined up their new targets. One of them never reached the trigger as he’d already been shot in the face, but the other three did. The two guards fell against the wall and slumped to the ground, their weapons clattering against the floor. “Leave him,” Fathi ordered, dragging one of the soldiers away from his stricken colleague. “He’s gone. It’s too late.” Jack gulped and they continued upwards. It did indeed lead to the balcony and suddenly Jack was back in familiar territory. The arena hadn’t changed at all, but after just three days Jack hadn’t expected it to. There was the church with the clock reset back to twelve and there was the main estate where Jack had so nearly lost his life on more than one occasion. Just seeing the place again made him shudder with fright, but for the soldiers there was no such problem. To them it was just an indoor training arena, much like the ones that they’d been put through back in the UAE. They had no idea about the true horrors that lurked down there… and Jack was jealous of that. “Which way now?” Fathi asked. He’d already lost two of his men and, although he was trained not to show it and stay calm, there was a certain agitation to his voice. Grab the kids and then get out – that was all that was supposed to happen. Jack took stock of his bearings and stared down into the arena, using it as a makeshift compass. He remembered that the telephone box that had transported him down to the arena had been right beside the corridor leading to the prison cells. All he had to do was to find it. Jack looked around and quickly spotted it on the opposite side of the arena; bright red and out in the open, it was hard to miss. “Across to the other side,” he said and started running. The soldiers quickly caught up with him and Jack allowed three of them to slip in front, leading the way. “You’re sure?” Fathi asked. “Positive.” Suddenly there was a massive explosion and the whole building shook, as if a massive dog had grabbed it in its slobbering jaw and was flinging its head from side to side. Jack staggered against the wall and one of the soldiers smashed against the glass screen of the viewing window; the soldier came off worse. Several others swore in their native language, but Fathi remained calm throughout. “Rocket-propelled missiles,” he stated knowledgeably. “Mr King really does want to bring the compound crashing down to earth.” They all looked up as several fragments of masonry trickled onto the carpet, leaving a hole the size of a golf ball in the ceiling. A fault line. The compound might have been around for a long time, Jack thought, but it was still old. And that meant the structural integrity would be old fashioned as well. Piles of concrete and stone were all very well in the early 20th century, but building work had moved on since then. Now it was all about steel bars and proper reinforcements. Even when locked up in the prison cell, Jack had noticed the signs of wear and tear on the walls. As Nico himself had admitted, for several decades the compound had been left in disarray. Abandoned. Left to rot. It would be interesting to see how long the facility could last and stand up for when face to face with powerful explosives. Interesting in the sense… how many people would make it out alive? “Come on,” Fathi muttered and ushered his team forward. “I suspect that we do not have too much time left.” The team sprinted round the bend in the balcony and the corridor opposite the telephone box beckoned. “This way,” Jack said and the others followed his every command. Unsurprisingly, all work had ground to a halt inside the two rooms. Some workers had decided to try their luck and flee; others were cowering underneath work stations, praying that their clipboards would provide protection against falling lumps of concrete or a machine gun bullet. All the guards that were usually on patrol had gone. Several workers screamed and Fathi fired through the glass windows, shattering them. Blood splattered against the wall and Jack felt sick. “Stay back or we’ll shoot!” Fathi yelled and not a single person challenged them down the whole length of the corridor. “How much further?” Fathi panted as they hurried down the staircase. “Not far,” Jack replied. They reached the foot of the stairs. “We’re here.” But in their haste and excitement, they became careless. Two guards had been stationed at the end of the corridor, both on their knees with their weapons raised, and before the elite squad knew what was happening they were under siege. Two soldiers went down instantly and another quickly followed before they started to make sense of the situation. Fathi raised his gun and, straight down the length of the grey corridor, picked off the two guards. They were perfect shots, straight through the head. And he had barely even had to line them up. Instinctive shooting: that was what the instructor’s at MI6 called it. On his day, Jack saw himself as a decent shot. But that was totally out of his league. Even so, Fathi wasn’t happy. He was angry. But, quickly putting his emotions to one side and concentrating on the job in hand, he rushed forward and started peering into each of the prison cells. “Ayham! Basilah! Where are you?” A high-pitched wail told him all he needed to know. He skipped two more cells and suddenly stopped, pressing his face against the grate. Jack came to join him while the remaining soldiers formed a defensive position facing both ways down the corridor. A sudden ambush was the last thing they needed now. Jack stared inside the cell and his heart was almost wrenched out of his chest with grief. Undoubtedly, it was the most pitiful sight he had even seen before in his life. The children couldn’t have been more than ten years old but, slumped here in a prison cell far from home with no one to talk to but each other, they looked a lot younger. What had once been a smart school uniform were now dirty rags; two months of dirt, grime and bacteria infesting the fabric. Appearance-wise they didn’t appear particularly injured or harmed which was good news because, in a few moments, they’d be up and running. However, they were as thin as pencils, their bones so fragile that Jack was certain that if the children ever stood up they would snap like a twig. Their eyes were hollow and empty, like black holes. All the hope and life seemed to have been sucked out of them. But, now that they realised it wasn’t guards standing by the door to their cell, they stood up – slowly, painfully – and approached them warily. “Hello?” the boy said unsurely, speaking in his native tongue. Fathi replied back instantly and, soon enough, Jack could see a glimmer of hope flicker in those obsidian orbs, as if someone had suddenly lit a match inside their bodies. “But we’ve got to hurry,” Fathi concluded. “Every second we remain in the compound is a second closer to possible danger.” “Daddy…” the girl whispered, “Is he-?” “He’s fine,” Fathi said. “He’s the one that sent us here to rescue you. Now enough chatter. Let’s bust you out.” Fathi nodded over one shoulder and Jack stepped forward, pulling the lock gun out from his waistband. They both knelt down in front of the door and examined the lock. “This one should do it,” Jack said and quickly attached one of the picks to the end of the drill. Then he fed it into the lock and pulled the trigger. With the creaking of rusting metal, the door swung open. “Bingo,” Jack grinned. A loud siren in the ceiling suddenly wailed out loud, echoing off the walls. An alarm. It must have been triggered by the prison door opening illegally, Jack thought. But hopefully the guards were too distracted by the sudden attack to come snooping. Even so, just to be on the safe side, one of the soldiers raised their weapon and fired at the alarm. There was a crack as a bullet split through the plastic casing and the siren was promptly silenced. “Much better,” the soldier mumbled. The two children burst out into the corridor, grinning from ear to ear. Immediately a couple of the soldiers fell back from the defensive line and came to stand by the two children. It had been agreed even before they’d set foot inside the compound that the two soldiers would be responsible for keeping the Sheikh’s children safe. That meant staying with them 24-7 and, if it ever came to it, jumping in front of a bullet to save them. Whatever they were being paid, Jack hoped it was worth the sacrifice. “I think we might have outstayed our welcome,” Fathi said, looking up at the broken siren and the dead bodies lying in the corridor. Then he checked his wrist: less than eight minutes were left on the clock. “It’s time for us to leave.”27The Final Countdown Jack pointed them down the corridor and they all ran forward, the Sheikh’s two children now squashed in the middle. To make sure that no one could sneak up on them from behind, the rear soldiers were forced to keep checking their shoulders. At the end of the corridor they stopped and Jack nodded at the metal door through which he’d exited the last time round. “Straight through there is a large warehouse,” he said to Fathi, “With plenty of boxes to provide cover. Then you go through the fire exit door and you’re out in the open.” “Good work,” Fathi nodded and turned to two of his men. “Clear the room out.” One soldier went to the side of the doorway and pressed himself against the wall, weapon ready. The other grabbed the door handle and, after exchanging nods of confirmation, pulled down. But nothing happened. Nothing until they all noticed a red light flashing just above the door frame. “It’s locked mechanically,” Jack realised bitterly. “And there’s no keyhole to use the lock gun.” Well, there went their easy escape route. “Must have been triggered by the cell door opening,” Fathi mused, “To try and prevent escapists from making it out of the building.” He turned to Jack. “We need to find another way out.” “Can’t you blow down the door or something?” One of the soldiers tapped against the metal with his knuckles and shook his head. “It sounds like at least several inches of pure steel to me,” he said. “You’d need a powerful blowtorch to get through this thing.” Jack swore; going back and hunting for another exit would mean venturing into the unknown. And in the middle of a warzone, the prospect was about as appetising as a soil and worm sandwich. “Might there be a control room?” Fathi suggested as Jack stood there thinking. Jack could tell he was getting restless; now that they had the children, all his natural senses were screaming at him to get out. “Somewhere we can shut off the automatic locking?” “There could be,” Jack replied, “But I have no idea where it is. The compound’s a big place and I’ve only seen a small section of it.” A few of the soldier’s muttered in discontent and Jack could feel their confidence in him waning; the only reason he’d been brought with them was because he knew the layout of the compound. Rescuing the Sheikh’s children was only half of the deal. “Then we’ve got no choice,” Fathi said and nodded back down the corridor. “We need to find another way out.” The workers still hadn’t moved from their stations as they ran back down the corridor; nor had they plucked enough courage in the past few minutes to try and stop them. They reached the end of the corridor, but instead of heading back out onto the balcony like before, Jack noticed a winding staircase leading down towards a lower level. It was worth a try, he thought and relayed this to Fathi. The elite squad leader nodded and down they went. As far as finding the control room went, Jack knew almost immediately that they were on the right trail. They were in a completely different part of the compound to where the average workers were and it looked it; concrete walls had given way to chrome fittings, the light was being provided by modern powerful ceiling lights and, for once, it didn’t look as if a sack of bloody meat had been dragged along the floor. Altogether it should have been a much pleasanter place to be. But it wasn’t. Jack could tell that this was where the important staff members worked – the likes of Nico Muller and his late colleague, Franz – and that made the atmosphere even more tense and sinister that it had been already. If any place was likely to be swamped with guards and security devices, this was it. Suddenly the front soldiers stopped and the rest of the team followed suit seamlessly. One of the men put a finger to his lips, signalling for quiet, and then pointed over at the next bend in the passage. They could all hear it now: Footsteps. Running towards them. And they were urgent, frantic even. As if someone was being chased. The soldiers’ weapons were already raised, prepared to fire when the figure came sprinting round the corner. And Jack recognised them. His eyes widened with shock… and then with horror. “Stop!” he yelled at the top of his voice. But it was too late. He could see the fingers closing around the triggers. But the shots never came. Quicker than Jack could even blink, Fathi had stepped in front of his own team’s guns and raised his hands in the airs, ordering them to halt. A few metres behind him, Ella stumbled to a halt. Her face was whiter than snow and that was even before she saw the weapons pointed at her. The soldiers reacted instantly and lowered their weapons, standing back up to their full height. None of them wanted to be the one to shoot their own leader. “She’s with us,” Fathi said, recognising her from the preparations before the assault. “Stand down.” “Ella!” Jack cried and ran forward, pulling into her arms. He knew it was neither the time nor the place, but you couldn’t blame him for feeling slightly relieved that she hadn’t just been shot up into tiny pieces right in front of his eyes. But to his surprise, she pushed him away and continued on moving. “There’s a big group of guards coming towards us,” she said and charged past the static soldiers. “There was too many for me to hold off on my own, but you might be able to if you stand your ground.” Jack looked at Fathi and the leader nodded. He pointed to three of his soldiers. “Stay here and give us time to get away,” he said as the others started shepherding Ayham and Basilah after the retreating figure of Ella. “Once the coast is clear, find your own way out. I’ll see you again outside.” There was no time to say anything else. Jack tugged Fathi on the sleeve then they both turned and ran, sprinting for their lives. They’d barely made it ten metres before the gunfire started behind them. Ella had been right; the guards had been right on her tail. The gunfire was accompanied by sudden screams of agony, but Jack didn’t dare look back. A single moment’s hesitation could make all the difference. Ella had been trying to lead them back up the staircase towards the balcony, but in a split second she had turned on her heel and was running back down having spotted more guards. Jack realised she’d lost her weapon in a previous fight and was now feeling about as self-assured as a snail without its shell. One of the soldiers thrust Ella back next to Ayham and Basilah and focused his rifle on the landing above them, waiting for the guards to appear. “Keep going,” he yelled to Fathi. “I’ll keep them busy.” They were left with no choice. They continued down the corridor, bypassing the staircase, and left the guard to fend for himself. “We’re dropping like flies,” Fathi growled and swore under his breath. Jack agreed with him and could tell what he was thinking; if they didn’t get out now, they were all doomed. It didn’t matter how highly-trained you were. If you were in a foreign environment and outnumbered by the enemy, the odds were always against you. Jack and Fathi caught up with the frontrunners – there were only four of the other soldiers remaining now – and were just about to head round a second bend when one of the soldiers stopped and turned back. “What is it?” Fathi yelled, but barely had the words left his mouth when he saw it: a little alcove in the wall, leading into a separate room. Inside the place was glowing brightly with electronic blue light, but from the corridor it was almost invisible behind a solid partitioning, presumably strategically placed there to prevent the light from escaping. Fathi stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything the soldier had stepped through the alcove and walked into the room. By then his fate was sealed. So intent was he on finding the control panel and unlocking the doors that he completely missed the tripwire spanning the threshold. The silver nylon glinted into the fluorescent light and was yanked forward. One moment the soldier had been there. The next he had disappeared in a mist of blood and dust. There was no other way to put it. Fathi put his hands on his head and swore, spittle flying everywhere as part of the ceiling in the control room collapsed inwards. Another one of the soldiers stepped forward to inspect the damage, but Fathi held up a hand. “Don’t!” he hissed, and Jack quickly realised why. The danger wasn’t over yet. Not by a long way. The soldier on the staircase had fought valiantly, but in the end he’d been totally overwhelmed. His dead body tumbled down the steps and slumped limply to the floor not thirty metres away and Jack could see the sinews in Fathi’s temple pulse frantically as thundering feet told him that the guards now had a free run towards them. Meanwhile, one sight of the Arab soldier being blown to smithereens had sent the two children into hysterics. They were wailing at the top of their voices, as if they’d just found out that Father Christmas wasn’t visiting them this year, and suddenly Ayham made a break for it. He slipped through the grasp of the soldier that was guarding him and made for the corner, trying to put as much distance between himself and the gunfire as he could. What he didn’t know was that there was a second group of guards charging up from that side. The guards took one look at him and fired. It didn’t matter that he was a child; he definitely wasn’t one of them and that’s all that counted. Shoot first, ask questions later. Ayham would have surely been killed if Ella hadn’t grabbed him by the shirt at the last moment and tugged him back out of the line of fire. Bullets sliced through the exact point where Ayham had been standing milliseconds before and smashed into the far wall, denting the chrome fittings with pockmarks. It was only then that the truth suddenly struck home. Not only were they outnumbered, but now they were also trapped. Two sets of guards were approaching imminently from each side, hunting them down like a pack of wolves, while they were stuck in the middle, helpless as a cub. And there was nowhere to go. Both sides of the corridor were shut off while the control room was a death trap in itself. If there was one thing worse than being trapped in the middle, it was being trapped in a corner. Then there really was no escape. But at the end of the day, what other choice did they have? There was nowhere else. And then Jack spotted it. “In here!” he yelled and launched himself at the large grey door that had been standing just on the edge of his field of vision. It was designed like a fire door with a bar that you had to pull down, but also - just like a fire door - it was heavy and stiff from lack of usage. Jack pulled it backwards with all his strength, but either the tension of the situation was getting to him or the door was genuinely extremely heavy because he could barely shift it a few inches. It felt like it was made of granite. Jack knew he had to stay calm - the lives of everyone around him were now depending on him – but he couldn’t do it. The hinge was clogged up with decades of thick rust. And the anguished screams as the three other Arab soldiers who’d been positioned at the far end of the corridor finally succumbed to the enemy was hardly helping either. “Help me!” Jack yelled. “Someone help!” As if paralysed by fear, all the others could seem to do was just stand and watch. In fact, it was almost as if they were already dead. Then Ella and Fathi snapped into action and hooked their fingers around the door, preventing it from closing. Then, on the count of three, they all heaved. Slowly but surely, the door swung open. “Get in! Get in!” Fathi yelled and the Sheikh’s children screamed in terror. But their legs refused to move. Like the twigs they were, they seemed to be rooted to the ground. “I said go!” Fathi threw himself away from the door and grabbed both Ayham and Basilah by the scruff of the neck. Then, he hurled them through the threshold. It didn’t matter if they sprained their wrist or broke both their ankles – anywhere was better right now than in the corridor. Ella slipped in next and suddenly all the weight of the door was back in Jack’s arms. His biceps screamed in protest, so tense that Jack thought they were about to explode. “I’ve got it! Go!” Fathi yelled, suddenly grabbing hold of the door frame. “Get inside!” As Jack stumbled around the elite squad leader and dived into the darkness of the passage beyond, two more of the Arab soldiers screamed out their final breaths. “Fathi! Come on!” Jack roared. “They’re almost on us!” Aside from Fathi, there was just one other soldier fighting against the surroundings guards. He’d crossed over to the other side of the corridor to take cover behind a bulge in the wall, popping out randomly to shoot down one of the guards. But it wouldn’t last. Soon there’d be too many. And when he saw the heavy door open, safety and sanctuary lying in wait for him beyond, he made his decision. He sprinted across the open corridor, bullets flying everywhere, and inevitably one hit him in the thigh. He stumbled forwards but remained on his feet, dragging himself the last few metres. By now Fathi was inside the passage, pushing against the door. It was only him stopping the door from resealing itself. The gap was down to a few centimetres. “Open it!” the soldier cried, blood oozing from his leg. “Please, I beg of you! Don’t leave me!” But there was no time. If they did, the guards would rush in and they would all be dead. Every single one of them. “I’m sorry,” Fathi said and slammed the door shut. Inside the passageway, staring down at the dark floor, they all heard the shriek as the bullets from about ten different guns all piled into the soldier at once. It echoed against the stone and reverberated, sounding again and again in their ears, so that it was almost as if a hundred people were dying. Not just one. But it could have easily been more. Then there was a final thud as the pulverised body – now with more holes in it than the Augusta National Golf Course - crashed against the door. It slipped down to the floor, blood smearing the metal like a scar. Then silence. On this side of the door there were two vertical handles, positioned side by side with one attached to the wall, the other to the door. Fathi used the first thing that came to hand and slipped his gun between the loops, making sure that the magazine and grip were firmly caught before letting go. A guard outside tried to charge down the door and there was a terrific bang as he whacked into the metal, shoulder first. But the gun was stronger and aside from an alarming creak, it held firm. Even then, it wasn’t time for sighing with relief just yet. “We need to keep moving,” Fathi said, casting his personal emotions aside and concentrating on the job. “The gun will slow them up, but it won’t keep them out forever. They’ll find a way through soon enough. We’ve perhaps got a minute’s head start to try and escape before they’re back onto us.” “Then I’ll stay,” Jack said. They all stared at him, aghast. Illuminated by the yellow artificial glow of the weak light bulbs in the ceiling, their faces looked almost haunting. Sickly. Ghost-like. “Someone needs to fend them off,” he explained. “Buy us a bit more time. One minute won’t be enough, not even nearly enough.” He nodded down at Ayham and Basilah. “Not with those two slowing you down.” “Then I’ll stay behind,” Fathi offered, but Jack shook his head. “You’re the only one that speaks Arabic. If the two kids start panicking and we can’t tell them to calm down then we’re all doomed, head start or not. You need to stay with them. Besides, they trust you. You know their father.” Fathi nodded and gritted his teeth. “Fine.” He took hold of the children’s hands and turned down the passageway. “Good luck.” “What! You can’t be serious?” Throughout all this Ella had been silent. But now, suddenly, she came out in an uproar. “We’re not leaving you behind, Jack. I’m not leaving you behind.” There was another bang on the door and the whole passage seemed to tremble, as if in fear of what was about to happen. “They’re almost in,” Fathi muttered. His voice was flat. “You see? There’s no time,” Jack persuaded. “You’ve got to go without me. I’ve got try and hold them up. If not then we’re all dead.” “So be it,” Ella sobbed. “Besides, there’s my ankle. All this running has caused it to flare up again. If I go, I’d only slow you down further.” “Here, take my gun.” He handed Ella his rifle and pulled out the spare M9 pistol from his waistband. “I’m afraid you might be needing it.” Fathi made a snap decision. If they didn’t move now, it wouldn’t matter how many people stayed behind. “Jack’s right, missy,” Fathi said firmly and grabbed Ella by the arm. “We need to leave.” “No!” Ella cried, but Fathi was too strong. He started dragging her down the stone passageway along with the two children, into the darkness. Suddenly Ella broke free and ran back towards the door. Jack could only stand there, expecting another rollicking. But then she did something quite unexpected. She opened her mouth, but it wasn’t to speak. She leaned forward and their lips brushed; tenderly, delicately. She whispered something in Jack’s ear – just three little words - then she stood back. “We’re meant to be siblings,” Jack gasped. It wasn’t fear that had his feet now rooted to the spot. “You said it yourself,” Ella said. “Either way, after today, the mission’s going to be over.” She kissed Jack once more and this time her lips were damp and salty. “I won’t forget about you.” Then she turned and raced after the others. Another bang, this time louder and with a lot more intent, brought Jack crashing back to earth. He shook his head, slapped himself across the cheek and looked back down the corridor. Ella was gone. They all were. “The pricks must have jammed the handles,” a guard suddenly muttered and Jack spun round, focusing back on the door. This was why he was here. This was why he had stayed behind. Now he had to make sure it was worth it. The gun had almost slipped out from between the handles and Jack quickly grabbed it, forcing it back into position. But Jack realised it would only be a temporary solution. Already the metal of both the gun and the handles were beginning to bend and soon one of them would give way altogether. It was only a matter of time. But where there’s a will, there’s a way. And Jack was determined to find the way. Such a rush had he been in to get inside the passage, he hadn’t had a chance to properly look at it. To be honest, there wasn’t much to see. It reminded Jack of the corridor outside the prison cells – all solid stone and no decor – but instead of blood stains, this was covered in something else: pipes. Lots of them. All different colours and all attached at irregular intervals up and down both walls, running parallel to each other down the passageway like rails on a railway track. Quickly, Jack knelt down beside some and read the markings on the plastic casings. One read ‘water’; two others ‘gas’ and ‘electricity’. Jack realised they must be pipelines supplying power and resources to the whole of the compound, meaning that if he were to cut one of them it would lead to an immediate shortage. But what would that achieve? It was hardly as if the guards were going to die by not having any water to put into their teas. And if he cut the gas tube, he would only succeed in killing himself. There’s got to be a way, Jack thought to himself. There’s always a way. Instinctively, he pulled out the commando knife from between his thighs and held it up, the cruel blade gleaming wickedly. Then he picked a pipe and started to hack through it, sawing for all he was worth. The plastic casing was designed to be thick so as to act as a good insulator, but eventually the knife broke through and water started to gush out onto the floor. Jack didn’t rest there; he slashed straight through the remaining plastic and stood up, one end of the broken tube in his hand. Cold water spilled over the rim and down his arm, dripping onto the floor. It was as icy as frost and bit into his skin, chilling him to the bone. Now at least he had an alternative weapon of some sort, but a water gun? Jack shook his head. He must be going mental. What was he going to do; freeze them to death? The force of five guards threw itself against the door, but still it didn’t budge. It was a good job that the metal was thicker than Charlie on exam day, Jack thought, otherwise they’d already be in. However, that did give him a better idea of how he could use the pipe… Moving across to the opposite wall, he pulled out enough of the pipe from its bindings so as to span the width of the passage then quickly tied the flexible tube around one of the others. There, now he had his very own makeshift tripwire. It wasn’t exactly in the same league as a nylon thread, but it was better than nothing. Then Jack realised how he could improve it even further. Conscious of how little time he had left, Jack sliced open a second water pipe and watched as the contents spilled out into the passageway. The area beneath his feet was now covered by a huge puddle at least several millimetres high, stretching from the door all the way to the tripwire. Jack could see it now: the guards run in, slip on the water, trip over the pipe and then land head first into the concrete. With any luck they’d be knocked out. If not, the pistol would be the only thing for it. As an added thought, Jack pulled out the rest of the grenades from his pockets and deposited them down on the floor, just beyond the tripwire. There, now he had explosive power as well on his side. Bang! The guards were getting ever closer. A few more impacts and they’d be in, surely. The trap was laid. Now Jack needed to hide. But in an open, empty corridor how many places were there? Jack looked up at the high ceiling; he couldn’t think of anything better. He slashed through a yellow tube and, using it like a rope to keep his balance as he clambered up the ladder of pipes, he eventually made it to the ceiling. He winced as he was forced to turn on his ankle so that his back was facing the wall then he pushed himself up into the very corner of the corridor, trying to force himself out of sight, into the stone itself. But it was still no good. He was only about fifty centimetres above the doorframe and if one single guard happened to look up, they would spot him for certain. What he needed was darkness. Total darkness. Jack pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the light bulbs. One after the other he shot them down, like he was at a fairground taking part in the duck range, the glass tinkling down to the floor below in tiny fragments. Soon, there wasn’t a light within fifteen metres that was working properly. Jack slipped the pistol away. And that was when the door finally crashed open. Three… four… five guards piled into the passage, weapons raised, expecting an ambush. But none came. They stumbled forward and their feet sloshed through the rapidly rising puddle. “They’ve busted the lights,” one guard growled and a moment later he pulled out a torch and flicked it on. In an instant, the bright beam settled on the tripwire in front of them, the grenades lying just beyond, lurking in the shadows like tiny monsters about to leap out at you. But the lead guard was still several inches away. He hadn’t even come close to tripping over the pipe. The guard laughed. “Is that the best they can do?” He pulled out his own torch and shone it down on the trap. “A piece of piping and a couple of grenades - the pins haven’t even been pulled out!” But that hadn’t been Jack’s plan at all. It was far too obvious. Suddenly one of the guards shone his torch down at the puddle of water and he saw a reflection, shimmering on the surface like a mirage on a hot day. But it wasn’t of him. It was of a teenage boy pressed up against the ceiling. The guard gasped. Jack let go of the pipe. Yellow. Yellow for electricity. The pipe dropped down into the pool below and the splayed wires, several hundred volts of electricity coursing through them like blood through veins, came into contact with the water. Boring science lessons suddenly came back to Jack and, in the instant that the guards knew they’d been tricked, he recalled what happened when electricity passed through water. Firstly, the majority of water contains metal ions that come about from dissolved substances in the liquid. This is most common in tap or rain water – water that has not been fully distilled - and Jack had smiled when he realised that this was exactly what the pipes would contain. The ions possess an electrical charge which means they can carry electrons and results in water being a perfect conductor of electricity. Not only that, but the human body is made up of sixty percent water. Sodium, calcium, potassium… more metal ions than you can count on two hands would be dissolved inside. Which, in the end, means only one thing… The human body can conduct electricity as well. But although Jack had been taught all this in lessons, unfortunately they’d never been shown a practical. No matter, Jack thought. Now he would know exactly what it was like. With no resistance, electricity can move at almost the same speed as light. Jack didn’t even have time to blink before the electrical current spread across the pool of water and passed into the nearest other electrical conductors it could find: the legs of the guards. From a bird’s eye view, it looked almost as if the guards were having a fit. Their whole bodies suddenly convulsed into series of random jerks and spasms, and the torches dropped from their hands. In a matter of milliseconds, the electricity had taken over. The guards no longer had control over their reactions and they fell to their knees, stumbling through the water. Several tried to scream, but only a hoarse whisper came out. The torches started flickering and in between brief moments of darkness, Jack saw bloodshot eyes the size of golf balls and fists clenched tighter than a pair of handcuffs. The guards were trying to put up a fight, but all too quickly their strength was being sapped. Hairs smouldering, muscles trembling, they pitched forward and collapsed into the water. There they lay, limbs jerking randomly, and the electricity did the rest. Jack remembered it wasn’t actually the voltage that killed you. It was the current. It took a matter of seconds to disrupt the heartbeat. It took even less than that to kill it altogether. By the time Jack had reached this trail of thought, the guards were already dead. Apart from the odd nervous twitch of a finger or a foot, they were not going to move again. Jack stayed where he was and listened, turning his ear towards the corridor. But nobody came. If there had been any other guards, they’d gone a different way. Jack didn’t dare risk messing about with the electricity cable - not after he’d just witnessed first-hand its destructive power – so pulled himself along the wall using the pipes as pedestals until he was well clear of the puddle. Then he dropped down and stared at the carnage. The guards had stopped moving altogether now. “Well, that was shocking,” Jack muttered. Then he turned and ran down the passageway. Quickly he came to a crossroads with each turning looking exactly the same as the next. He realised it must be part of the foundations of the building, like an underground tunnel, which meant that each passage would take him to a different corner of the compound. But which way had the others gone? That was the important question. Jack was in no doubt that they would have left him far behind, but if he could at least follow in their footsteps then maybe there was a chance of catching up. Jack studied the floor of each passage, but there were no clues. No footprints, no shoe marks, no dropped bread crumbs. Nothing. Jack sighed. He would have to guess. He went straight on, supposing that this might have been a quicker route rather than having to turn, and hobbled forwards until the passage ended. Like from where he’d entered, his path was blocked by a heavy metal door. Slowly, Jack opened it and peered outside. Surprisingly, he recognised where he was. The door opened up from the side of a wide, open tunnel but it wasn’t the design or layout that he recognised; it was the golf buggy, parked almost directly in front of him. The trailer had been recently cleaned and, this time, there was nobody at the wheel, but there was no mistaking it. And sure enough, as Jack stepped out from the passage and looked down the tunnel, he saw the garage door. And it was open. Sensing the need to protect himself now that he was back out in the open, Jack pulled out the M9 pistol and ventured forward. In the few minutes he’d been trapped down on the lower floors of the compound, the battle between the Black Eagles, the Arab soldiers and the K.O members had spread. The majority of this had spilled into the arena and the evidence was everywhere. A body had fallen out of a second floor window and crashed into the car below before rolling onto the pavement, spine shattered. Machine gun shells, shards of shrapnel and masonry littered the ground, like cigarette butts and two-year-old chewing gum might in a real town. And then there were the sheer number of casualties, as if Dead End had suddenly been struck by the bubonic plague. But since then the fighting had dispersed again, leaving only a few smaller groups to battle it out in the arena. And Jack quickly realised why; all it took was a quick glance at his watch and suddenly his heart was racing at a million beats per second. There was just under two minutes left before the countdown was up. A hundred and fourteen seconds to make it out of the compound and to safety. Then the bomb would detonate. And if you were still inside… you were toast. Worse than that, you were incinerated. So that was where the majority of the Arab soldiers and K.O members had gone: Outside. To safety. The people that remained were either prepared to sacrifice their life to continue fighting, were planning to try and make it out at the very last second or, like Jack, had completely lost track of time. The events down in the passageway seemed to have passed in seconds, but clearly it had been a lot longer. Now all Jack had was a hundred seconds to find an exit. The final countdown had begun. He had to get out now.28Fall From PowerJack remembered the staircase that led up to the balcony – the same one that he had taken after escaping the arena – and sprinted towards it, already calculating which way he should turn when he reached the top. Except that the staircase was blocked. A massive explosion had shattered the ceiling above it, causing it to collapse downwards. Jack found himself wondering if it might have been the big shockwave he’d felt up on the balcony. But whether it had been or not, it didn’t change his current predicament. The exit was totally sealed off, huge slabs of concrete separating him from freedom. It could take hours to dig his way through all of it. There had to be another way. Briefly, Jack considered heading back into the passageway, but he knew it would be like entering a maze – and one that he didn’t know the end to. He could have had double the amount of time that he had now and he still mightn’t find his way out. So what options did that leave? Jack looked around; the passage was a no-go, the staircase was blocked. That just left the arena. Even then, he knew it was hopeless. Suicidal even. The main feature of the arena – the actual point of it – was that there could be no escape from it. That was why Jack was the only person to have ever made it out of there alive. There might be other exits, secretly hidden like the garage door had been, but Jack didn’t know where or what they were. He didn’t even know where to begin looking. And it was hardly as if he could walk up to one of the guards and ask them for directions. Jack was just beginning to concede that he might have to chance it with the passage after all when this happened: from inside the arena, several launchers were fired and the rockets shot through the air. Some hit their target, blowing up whole houses into smithereens. Others spiralled upwards, like a leaf caught in the wind, before smashing into the domed ceiling. Jack knew it was made out of a toughened polycarbonate plastic and, for most intents and purposes, was deemed unbreakable. Indeed, it was the same material used in ‘unbreakable’ glasses and kitchen utensils. But that was only because the worst damage they ever faced was being dropped from waist height or accidentally trodden on. Jack could guarantee that none of them had ever come face to face with the force of several explosive rockets. Two rocket launchers hit almost the exact same spot in the dome and there was a terrific crash as the thick plastic shattered. For half a second, it even drowned out the sound of gunfire. Then an area of plastic about a metre squared fell away from the dome, raining down like hailstones and hammering into the ground below. Jack hurried over to the edge of the garage door and looked up. Compared to the rest of the dome that was still intact, the hole was the equivalent of a pinprick. But it was still large enough for him to squeeze through and that was all the mattered. Suddenly Jack had decided: this was his way out. He’d seen nothing else to change his mind and if he dallied about for much longer, the deadline would be on to him in a flash. He wouldn’t even get a chance to escape. But the hole was almost twenty metres above him, well out of reach of any ladder or even the balcony for that matter. So how the hell was he supposed to get up there? The church spire. Jack remembered when he first entered the arena how he’d made sure he climbed to a good vantage point so that he could study the village properly and get to grips with where everything was. Back then it had helped him greatly. Now it was going to help him even more. The main estate had been the most congested area; the playground the most open. The town hall was the biggest building… and the church, with its pointed spire, the tallest. Before he’d even thought things through properly, Jack was up and running. He sprinted across the road, acutely aware of the bullets flying either side of him, and dived into one of the housing estates. From there it was straight towards the church, trying to take as direct a route as possible without straying into the open. It would just be sod’s law if he was shot now – when he’d finally found a way out of this death trap. Jack hurdled through a window and checked his watch. Ninety seconds. Was it just him or was time moving even faster now? He cut through a row of terraced houses and then emerged back onto the pavement. The church was directly in front of him. But so was something else. Nico Muller and Ryan Travis were standing less than ten metres away, but oddly enough they weren’t interested in Jack. Indeed, they hadn’t even noticed him appear. They were locked in hand-to-hand combat with Calvin King and Gareth Grimes – all of them having seemingly lost their weapons or run out of ammo. It was almost as if they were trapped in an impenetrable bubble, blocking them from the outside world. All they could see was each other and all they could do was fight, even if it meant to the death. The way Grimes and Travis were sparring, they could have almost been back at the Golden Sun clubhouse watching one of the latter’s karate training drills. Jack could almost see the crowd of eager members surrounding them, egging the duo on. For months it would always have been Travis who got the majority of support; Grimes who was booed whenever he landed a solid hit. But not anymore. Now the tables had been turned. Grimes was the good guy. Travis was the villain. “Come on then, Grimbo,” Travis grinned and dodged from side to side, moving about with speed and agility that defied his aging frame. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Let’s see how much you’ve picked up from all my lessons.” “Oh, I’ve picked up plenty,” Grimes growled back, “As you’re about to find out.” He feigned one way then quickly unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick that would have smacked straight into Travis’ midriff. But the karate expert was too quick for him and only a last minute intervention with his arms prevented Travis from landing a punch straight back. “Too slow!” Travis smirked. “Anyone would think you were the older one.” Meanwhile, King was locked in a fierce battle with Nico, the two organisation leaders going straight at each other’s throats. They lacked the skill, speed and agility of their colleagues, but made up for it in terms of pure determination and passion. King caught hold of Nico’s neck and started squeezing, trying to strangle him to death, but then the German kneed him in the gut and shoved him backwards, wriggling out of his grasp. The fight was firmly in the balance with neither side looking more likely to win than the other. But then King glanced to the side and spotted Jack. “Jack!” He noticed the M9 in his hand and his eyes lit up, but only briefly; Nico had aimed a fist at his head and he was forced to duck out of the way. “Shoot them, Jack!” King roared, catching Nico on the kneecap and sending him stumbling. “Shoot them now!” But Jack knew he couldn’t; it would only waste even more precious time. Instead he threw the pistol down on the ground and, with the group occupied, sprinted across the road and into the church. Behind him, King spotted the gun bounce off the tarmac and spin towards him, like in a game of Russian roulette. But Nico had seen it as well and soon they were side by side, trying to be the first one to reach it. They both dived at precisely the same time; hands outstretched, fingers ready to grab, turn and pull the trigger. Jack was already halfway up the winding staircase when he heard the gunshot sound. But he didn’t pause, he didn’t stop. He just carried on running. Like time. Time was running as well. Running out. Quickly. Too quickly. Time was running out too quickly. Jack reached the top of the stairs and, with the most fleeting of glances, stared down over the banister. The church was now far below him, at least eight metres; the pews, the altar, even the baptismal font now the same size as ornaments in a doll’s house. A church, Jack thought: a portal between life and death… the perfect place for a funeral to be carried out. The only question was: whose would it be? After passing the triforium, his feet slapping loudly against the hard stone, he reached the bell tower and ran over to the edge, bursting back into the open. Looking up, he could now see that the spire was directly above him, pointing up into the sky like a gigantic spear. Without even pausing to catch his breath, Jack stepped onto the edge of the low stone wall surrounding the bell tower and pushed himself up. He risked a glance down and immediately wished he hadn’t. It wasn’t in the same league as the view from his bedroom window back in Hong Kong, but this time there was a fundamental difference. There was no glass. Nothing to hold him back if he accidentally stumbled and fell the wrong way. If he toppled from this height, he would fall to his death. No amount of bulletproof armour would change that. He noticed a body lying on the floor, clad in green. But he didn’t stop to see who it was. Whoever it was, it made no difference to him now. His future was in his own hands. Jack found a handhold in the stone and swung himself up, digging his feet into the sculptured columns and shuffling up a few centimetres at a time. It was agonisingly slow process, but it was as fast as he could go. Any faster and he opened himself up to the risk of slipping. Eventually, he cleared the bell tower and dragged himself up onto the spire itself. It was now all that remained between him and the dome, but that was only half of the story. He still had over five metres of steeply sloped tiles to climb. It was at close to an eighty degree angle so definitely no chance of running straight up it. However, it seemed that luck was once again on his side. The spire was studded with small spheres – like closed rose buds – which, presumably, had been placed there simply for ornamental value. Why they should bother in a town that was designed to be as deathly and unwelcoming as possible was beyond Jack, but at least they did have one useful feature: they provided perfect footholds in order for him to climb to the very tip of the spire. Jack wasted no time. The motion was a bit like ice skating, stepping from side to side so that his foot caught hold of the spheres before kicking off and propelling himself forwards. And upwards. He kept his hands out in front of him, ready to grab the spire at the first hint that he’d lost his footing. But his main fear were the spheres themselves; they were only small – would they take his weight? Thankfully they did and now Jack was at the highest point of the whole arena. If he’d had the time, he could have looked around and taken in the view. He could have seen a grenade being hurled up into an open window, a Black Eagles guard stacking it over the curb in his attempts to escape and, far down below, Travis landing a kick in Grimes’ solar plexus and grinning madly. But he didn’t have the time. That was the point. And speaking of point… There was nothing else for it. Jack balanced himself on the very tip of the spire, body pointing straight upwards, and for half a second it felt as if he was floating in mid-air. As far as Jack was concerned, it was half a second too long. He’d been through some scary experiences in his time, and this was right up there. Emphasis on the words up there, Jack thought. He reached up and grabbed hold of the steel girder above his head. It was ice cold against his clammy skin and Jack suspected no one had been up this close to it since the dome had first been erected. Then, making sure his grip wouldn’t fail him once all his body weight was concentrated on it, he swung himself up and scrambled on top. He was out of breath, panting, but he had to keep going. If he’d stood up, he would have conked his head against the surface of the dome and fallen to his doom – he was that close to freedom. But there was only one way out of this place and it was about fifteen metres ahead of him. Keeping crouched, Jack ran forwards as fast as he dared. Although the girders were strong and thick, they were also extremely narrow. A bit like Nico Muller, Jack thought. Six inches wide, they were barely larger than a gymnastics beam. When the dome had been designed this would have been to reduce the amount of sunlight being blocked, but now it was counting against Jack. A single slip, one false move and he’d be falling for weeks. Eventually he made it. He didn’t dare glance at his watch again – he didn’t think he could bring himself to do so, to see how little time he had left before the bomb detonated. The sight of all the 0’s might paralyse him with fear. But in the back of his mind, he knew that he could only have seconds left. It was all very well getting up here, away from the action. But the job needed to be completed. He was still in as much danger as anyone else. Being a dome, the plastic here had risen up away from the girders so that it now hovered just over two metres above his head. With a heavy heart, Jack realised that, in order to reach the jagged hole, he was going to have to jump. A loud explosion from below almost knocked his concentration and he teetered backwards, on the edge of falling. But he spun his arms like a windmill, driving his body forwards, and regained his balance. Phew, he thought. Close call. Then he looked up and, without hesitating, jumped. His arms hooked round the lip of the hole and his chest slammed against the jagged plastic, knocking the breath out of him. But for the protection of the bulletproof vest, the sharper pieces might have punctured his rib cage. Jack felt his arms start slipping on the smooth plastic and his body started to drop back into the arena, legs dangling in the air. He thrashed about wildly and tried to claw his way back up, but there was no purchase, no grip. Nothing to hold on to. A dagger of plastic stabbed him in the arm and Jack yelled, blood dripping down his arm. It missed the girder underneath him, falling all the way back down to the ground and splattering on the pavement. And if Jack didn’t hurry up soon, he would be joining it. But it was no use. Jack felt himself slipping, slipping and all the while those precious seconds evaporated in front of him. His life was hanging by a thread in front of his very eyes. And the last strands were about to break. *Fathi had taken the left turning at the crossroads and joy of joys, after passing through desolate weapon armouries and staff rooms that had long since been abandoned, they burst through a fire exit and emerged into clear air. Still dragging Ayham and Basilah along behind him, Fathi thrust them ahead and told them to go and hide behind a row of parked cars. When they tried to protested, as kids always do, he snapped at them: “Do as you’re told!” he yelled and they promptly hurried into cover. Then Fathi turned round and waited for Ella to catch up with them. It didn’t take more than a few seconds. Despite two months living off Lancaster’s speciality of sausage and mash, she was still a decent runner and what with Fathi being slowed down by the two kids, she had never been too far behind. In fact, she would have easily caught up with them earlier if she hadn’t kept on checking her shoulder, glancing behind to see if anyone was following her. If Fathi had noticed she would have said that she was looking out for guards, making sure they didn’t sneak up on them from behind. That was only part of the truth. Who she was really looking out for was Jack, hoping beyond hope that he might have somehow made it out of the underground passage alive. She remembered how the Arab soldiers guarding the corridors had been cast aside as if they hadn’t been there – and they were professional soldiers! So what chance did a teenage boy have of beating them? Under normal circumstances, Ella would have said none. But there was something different about this boy. She’d sensed it, known it the moment she’d first met him. He wasn’t like the other junior agents she’d come across at MI6, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on why. Perhaps then that was Jack in a nutshell: unpredictable. Unless it was telling crappy jokes in an attempt to impress someone, you could never know what to expect from him. So while most people down in the passage would put up a good fight, eliminate a few enemies but ultimately fall, was it possible that Jack might just do it differently? Was it too much to ask that he might actually live to tell the tale? It wasn’t much to go by, but it gave Ella hope. And hope was all she had. He’d got out of the Black Eagle compound before. He could do it again. “Are you alright?” Fathi said, helping her out of the building and towards the parked cars where the Sheikh’s children were crouching. Aside from them, nobody else was around. Either they were still trapped inside, fighting for their lives, or they’d got out of the compound and legged it in preparation for the bomb. How long was left? Two minutes. If people didn’t start getting out now, they wouldn’t get out at all. “I’m fine.” “You sure? You look pale.” “Yeah, well... that’s understandable, isn’t it?” She stared back at the fire exit, the door flapping in the wind, more out of hope than expectation. And just like before, it was empty. “I’ll call the chopper,” Fathi murmured. “I don’t know about you, but I fancy getting out of here pronto.” After a routine glance at his wrist to check how much time they had left, he pulled off his rucksack and ripped it open. Inside, as requested by Jack, were several magnesium flares. “These should do the trick.” Shaped like glow sticks but about ten times brighter, Fathi snapped off the tops and red smoke came tumbling out like liquid nitrogen. Then he held it up in the air and the wind caught it instantly, throwing the smoke up in a column of red. From a distance, it would almost look like he was holding pure fire in his hands. “Don’t look at it directly,” Fathi warned the others. “It’s so bright it could blind you.” Ella went over to Basilah and put an arm around her shoulder; she was shaking uncontrollably, whether from fear or the cold it was hard to tell – school uniform designed for the desert wasn’t the best solution for fending off a German winter. “It’s alright,” Ella mumbled, stroking her hair soothingly – it was always what her mother would do to her whenever she was feeling down. “Help’s going to arrive before you know it. Then you’ll be able to see your dad again. He’s been so worried about you. But you’re safe now. That’s the most important thing.” Ella wasn’t sure if the little girl understood her, but she buried her face deeper into Ella’s shoulder and so she took it as a good sign. All the dirt from Basilah’s sooty cheek rubbed off on her jumper, but that didn’t matter. It could be cleaned. It wasn’t permanent. “Here we are!” Fathi said excitedly and he came to stand beside them as a large Chinook helicopter zoomed overhead. “I told you they’d be here to rescue us.” He spoke in Arab so that the children would understand him and their tired little faces exploded with emotion as a hatch on the side of the helicopter opened and a rope ladder was dropped out. Fathi allowed the ladder to stop swaying in front of him and then called the kids over. “Ayham, you can go first,” he said. “Just climb straight up to the helicopter and don’t look down. I’ll keep the ladder steady from the bottom so that it doesn’t move.” Ayham nodded and gulped nervously before clambering onto the ladder. Fathi waited until he was halfway up then nodded at Basilah. “You can do it,” he said. “I’ll be right below you in case you fall.” Basilah was stick thin and barely had enough energy to walk, let alone climb. But with Ella’s encouragement and Fathi clambering up right behind to make sure that she kept moving, she made it up with her brother. Now it was just Ella left on the ground. With the kids safely inside the helicopter so no need to protect them, her attention had once again returned to the open door. She closed her eyes, mouthed a silent prayer and then reopened them again. A few stones were blown into the building from the force of the rotor blades. Nothing else. “Come on, we have to go now!” Fathi was hanging from the top of the ladder, staring down at her. The blades were buffeting him about from side to side, the ladder swaying like a tree in the wind, but he wasn’t going to head inside; not until he was certain that every member of his team was going to join him. Meanwhile the pilot was gesticulating wildly, at the same time wrestling with the joystick and trying to keep the helicopter under control. So close to the top of the spiked fence and the side of the building, it would be all too easy to be blown off course in a cross-wind and smash against something solid. The message was clear: he wanted to get going as soon as possible. There were also a couple of soldiers manning the hatches while watching out for any possible threats. But so far there wasn’t any – none of them knew it at that point, but some of the other soldiers had successfully trapped the Black Eagle guards in by sealing the main exits. That meant there was only one danger to them now and that was the bomb itself; no more than thirty seconds were on the clock. To leave it so fine would be a foolish error of judgement. “Wait! Please! Just a few more moments!” Ella cried, her hair being blown about all over her face. “He might have got away. He might be coming.” “We don’t have time!” Another check of the watch. “The compound’s going to blow at any second.” Deep down, Ella knew Fathi was right. They needed to get out of here. By refusing to climb up the ladder, she was only endangering themselves. She wasn’t saving anyone. But she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not without Jack. And now Ella realised why Jack was different. What set him apart from all the other boys at MI6. What had been bothering her at the back of her mind ever since he’d first spoken to her: She loved him. Despite all the crappy jokes, the annoying stunts and the times that he humiliated her during karate training, she couldn’t imagine them ever being apart. But more than that, out here on the mission, they were supposed to be a family – the strongest and tightest of all bonds. And no one lets down a family member. But what was she to do? She didn’t know where he was! Or even if he was still alive! She stared again at the door, but any figure walking towards her was only a mirage. “Ella, please!” Fathi shouted again. “Think about it. Maybe he’s found his own way out? In which case, he’s probably already waiting for us outside.” Ella chewed her lower lip. In a sense, Fathi was right: if anyone could get out of an impossible situation, it was Jack. She’d heard all about some of his previous missions during boring weekday afternoons after returning back from school; he’d escaped from certain death more times than Houdini. But he’d been outnumbered about ten to one, trapped in a narrow passageway with only a pistol for protection. Even Ella struggled to see how he could have made it out of that one. Thirty seconds. “If you don’t get on now, we’re going to leave you!” And Ella had no doubt that Fathi was telling the truth. He’d slammed the door in the face of one of his own soldiers when it had come to protecting the Sheikh’s children. Because to save lives, first sacrifices needed to be made. With an overwhelming sense of resignation and sadness, Ella turned her back on the door and grabbed hold of the ladder, pulling herself up onto the first rung. Straight away Fathi signalled to the pilot and the helicopter quickly rose, pulling Ella away from the ground; a lift – at least that was something she could do with. The helicopter carried her higher until she was looking directly down on the compound; the perfect view for watching as the Black Eagle’s whole empire exploded. If she’d had a camera, she could have taken a photo for Calvin King’s scrapbook, she thought glumly. And then she heard the yell. It was so faint that at first Ella was certain that she’d imagined it. It was her mind playing tricks on her again. Her heart getting the better of her brain. Because, for a fraction of a second, the voice had sounded exactly like Jack. Ella looked over the compound one last time… …and suddenly she saw him. “There!” she screamed at the top of her voice. “It’s Jack!” She was pointing at the domed roof in the very centre of the compound; she only knew vaguely about the horrors that were stored inside, once again from one of Jack’s accounts. A hole had been blown near the middle of the dome and she could make out a small figure trying to claw its way up onto the roof. Even from this distance, there was no mistaking him. “Lower me down! We need to help him.” “But Ella…” Fathi was at the opening of the hatch again. “…the bomb.” They needed to be getting away from the compound, not back towards it. But this time, Ella was not to be denied. Not when she knew there was still a chance of rescuing him. “He risked his life to save us, remember?” she shouted. “Don’t ever forget that!” Fathi sighed and shook his head; he must be losing his mind. “Turn back!” he shouted to the pilot. “We’ve forgotten someone.” “What?” the pilot shouted. “But the bomb!” “I said turn back!” Fathi roared. “And that’s a direct order.” Spurred on by fear, the pilot yanked the joystick round and the helicopter dived back towards the compound. Standing on the bottom rung of the ladder, Ella was almost thrown off by the sudden change in direction. But she managed to cling on and her heart leapt when she realised they were heading back towards the compound, back towards Jack. Fifteen seconds. Ella got herself into position: They were going to have to be quick. Quicker than lightning. Quicker than they’d ever moved before. But the question was: would they get there in time? Or were they already too late?*It was no use. He was dead. Jack felt his arms slip on the plastic and at the same time something else was slipping as well: his life. Slipping out of his grasp. Slipping away from him. He made the mistake of looking down and could only stare as his legs dangled beneath him, supported by over twenty metres of pure air before they hit the next thing solid. The girder was slightly off to the side and would be a tough ask to land on even if it hadn’t been six inches wide. His arm muscles were on fire… and, in a few seconds, so too would be the building. To get so near, yet to fall so far, Jack thought grimly. The saying was strangely applicable to him right now. Jack sighed and closed his eyes, allowing his exhausted arms to slide away from the hole. And then he was falling. Suddenly there was a sharp jolt and Jack’s eyes snapped open, his whole body alert again. Surely he couldn’t have hit the ground already? And if he had, surely he should be dead… spine shattered like a porcelain vase? But then Jack noticed the strained hand gripping tightly around the shoulder pad of his bulletproof vest and he looked up to see Ella staring down at him, her face less than fifty centimetres away from his. “What the hell?” Jack stammered. “Grab hold!” Ella shouted and offered him her spare arm. Looking past, Jack could see that she was hanging from the bottom of a swaying rope ladder, her legs bent round the rung at the knee to prevent her from falling. And above that was a Chinook helicopter, Fathi leaning out from an open hatch and beckoning him up. The situation was so precarious, Jack almost toppled backwards. However, Ella anticipated it. She grabbed his sweaty wrist, gripping so firmly that Jack thought the bone would break, then shouted just one word: “Up!” The helicopter shot upwards, yanking the rope ladder with it. Ella winced as the plastic rung stabbed into the back of her knees, but she refused to let go. It wasn’t only her life that depended on it. Jack’s trailing foot cleared the top of the dome and for half a second the fresh air was cool, calm and peaceful. It could almost have been beautiful. Then the bomb exploded. It was like a fire-breathing dragon had suddenly burst out from the pits of the compound; a huge fireball engulfed the building, spreading upwards and outwards in a huge mushroom. Dead End – with most of the houses being made out of ninety-nine percent wood – and all of its inhabitants were incinerated in an instant. Then the flames tried to escape, bursting through the roof and sending the aged, weakened concrete crashing down in huge slabs. Jack actually felt the bottom of his feet be scorched by the flames and Ella screamed; jagged daggers of red, orange and yellow swarming all around them. They were surrounded! And then the helicopter whipped them up into the air and they were suddenly pulled out from the pit of hell. With a great roar and a crackle, several flames leapt out and tried to grab them, to haul their prey back into their midst. It wanted more victims! To escape was to cheat Death itself! But escape was what they did. With an anguished cry, the explosion folded in on itself and the whole building was brought crashing to its foundations. Even though they were over fifty metres in the air, the noise was so loud it was almost as if they were standing right in the middle of it. “You came back for me!” Jack cried as the helicopter carried them over the barbed wire fence and towards the desolate field where all the surviving soldiers and K.O member had already assembled. It looked as if a fair few had managed to make it out and from this view, Jack could see every one of them. “Why?” “Because I didn’t want to have to make a stupid speech at your funeral, durbrain,” Ella shouted back. “Isn’t it obvious?” Jack was tired, exhausted even. But he wasn’t too tired to smile. “Besides,” Ella continued. “United we stand, divided we fall.” “Where did you hear that?” Jack asked. Ella shrugged. “Dunno, a TV programme? It just sounds like the right thing to say, you know?” Jack smiled again and nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. 29No Place Like HomeJack had seen some extraordinary things in his time: he’d seen a pack of savage wolves chase him up a tree (that had been scary). He’d seen the world come within one second of being destroyed (that had been really scary). And he’d seen Javier Gonzalez, his fellow junior agent and good friend, attempt a rendition of Enrique Iglesias’ Hero while drunk (that had been really, really scary). But in terms of sheer happiness, nothing compared to the moment when Ayham and Basilah were reunited with their parents. After refuelling at a nearby air base in Berlin to make sure that they could all make it back to Dubai on two tanks of fuel, the convoy had set off… Victorious. Calvin King, Grimes and Scarlett were just three of many that didn’t make it back. But in terms of damage and numbers, the Black Eagles had suffered a lot worse. And Nico and Travis had finally got what they deserved. After all, as King had announced before the final assault: “If we’re going down, they’re going down with us.” To save lives, first sacrifices have to be made. Someone must have contacted ahead to warn the Sheikh that they were returning, because by the time the triumphant and jubilant convoy arrived at Al-Minhad military airport, he and his wife were already waiting by the side of the landing pads, hand in hand. They looked extremely tense and nervous, huddled together despite it being over a hundred degrees outside. Ismail was standing behind them, arms behind back, and even he could feel the suspense hanging in the air. “Alright,” Fathi grinned, abandoning his tough-guy persona for the first time all day. “Who wants to see mummy?” Then he yanked open the hatch and the two children spilled out onto the landing pad. For as long as he lived, Jack would never forget the moment when the Sheikh and his wife spotted their children running towards them. Two months had elapsed since they last set eyes and although they now looked nothing like the children that had been snatched unwillingly from under their noses, it was their children all the same. Every single joyous emotion under the sun exploded from their beings as they dropped to one knee, held out their arms and Ayham and Basilah dived into their embrace. By now everyone had stepped out of their helicopters and were watching them, but the Sheikh and his family didn’t care. His hug was so fierce, it didn’t look as if he ever wanted to let go. It didn’t matter if they smelled of their own excrement and their hair was shaggier than a lion’s mane. They were together, reunited. And nothing is more important than a happy family. Standing beside Jack with a proud smile on her face, Ella wiped a tear from her eye and rested her head on his shoulder. “Seeing this,” she whispered, “Knowing that you’ve made a big difference to just a few people in the world…” Her eyes turned watery. “…suddenly it all becomes worth it.” Jack smiled, pulled out a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. “Agreed.” It was the only word he could manage; suddenly his throat had welled up and he was unable to speak. But in the end, no words were required. The sight itself – a family happy and reunified at last - said everything that needed to be said.*The remaining K.O members were welcomed by the Sheikh to come back to his mansion and with dusk fast approaching and no other arrangements made for the night, they gladly accepted. After King failed to make it back from the assault, Raj had been put in temporary charge of the group and Jack couldn’t think of a more deserving person. Besides, it wasn’t as if the Sheikh lacked the room. As it turned out, there were ten spare bedrooms which meant almost one each with only Jack and Toby being forced to share. Not that that really mattered either. Not when each room was the size of a tennis court, packed with more technology than an outlet of Sony and had an en-suite bathroom with its own private Jacuzzi. Dinner was the best meal he’d had in months (no offence, Lancaster, he’d thought) and, lying in a king-size bed that was as soft as a feather, finally Jack was content. After the bullet to the shoulder and his sprained ankle, twenty-four hours ago Tori had advised that he should rest for at least a week. Instead, he’d been chased down corridors and had been forced to climb out of a twenty metre high dome with no safety harness. It was no wonder that as soon as his head hit the plumped-up pillow, he didn’t wake up again until gone late the next morning. To be honest, he was so at ease that he could have slept until next summer. But it still wasn’t home and right now that was all where Jack wanted to be. The recent events had taken their toll on him in more ways than he cared to admit and, despite the night’s rest, he still felt shattered. Not physically, but mentally, as if this time the scars were more than skin deep. So as soon as breakfast was over and the Sheikh had finished showing the group his collection of valuable paintings and automobiles, Jack requested that he go home to Hong Kong that very afternoon. Anyone else who wanted to join him was welcome. “Are you sure?” the Sheikh asked. “You’re more than welcome to stay if you want to.” “I’m sure.” The Sheikh nodded. “In that case, I’ll get on the phone to the local airport. I’m sure I can squeeze you into business class or something.” Only Ella and Toby would be coming with him. Everyone else had decided to stay in Dubai for a few more days, not only to recover, but also to enjoy themselves. There’d been far too much tension in the group over the past few weeks and they all knew it. Now it was time to relieve that stress. To live a relaxed life for once with no threat of being attacked by a rival organisation. But for now, Jack couldn’t join them. Calvin King might be dead, but the mission wasn’t over. Not yet. There was one last thing to do. “Fathi told me about what happened in Berlin, what you did in the underground passageway,” the Sheikh said seriously. He’d pulled Jack aside into an empty room – an ornate library with books from all ages and cultures lining the shelves – to speak to him in privacy. “You were prepared to do anything for the wellbeing of my children, even if it meant risking your life. As a relieved parent, I cannot think of anything more heroic. I want you to know, Jack, that I am eternally grateful. Without a doubt, I will be forever in your debt. Because without a family around you, to comfort you when you’re down and smile with you when you’re high… is life really worth living? “What you have done for me, Jack… it is priceless. You can be the richest man in the world, but no amount of money can buy happiness - as you have brought me. But if there is anything I can do for you by way of thanks - anything at all - then I shall be more than happy to oblige.” Jack smiled wearily. It was a nice offer and he was pleased that the Sheikh had made the effort to acknowledge him personally, but there was nothing that Jack wanted that he didn’t already have. The Sheikh was right: family, friends… they were the most important things in life. More than anything, all Jack wanted to do was to see them again. But not yet… soon. Jack was about to shake his head when suddenly he had an idea. “Actually, now that you come to mention it, there is something I might like.” Jack smiled. And told him. *Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Carter had been serving in the SAS regiment for over twenty years. That made him one of the most experienced men in the whole of the special force. In that time he’d climbed slowly up the ranks, culminating in him being appointed an officer no less than two months ago. This would be his first operation as field commander. They had two targets, but both were very different in location and structure and thus would require drastically diverse tactics in order to successfully bring them down. It was a decision that had had Carter puzzling for the past thirty minutes. He was standing outside the first of these targets; a tall steel skyscraper in the heavily urbanised vicinity of downtown Hong Kong. Standing on the opposite side of the road and pretending to be waiting for a bus, he had a perfect view of the building which they were supposed to infiltrate within the next few hours. From the outside it looked like an ordinary work tower and, for most of the floors, it was. But what most people didn’t know and what Carter did know was that the top three floors belonged to a criminal organisation called K.O. They specialised in the secret trade of illegal goods and, up until a few days ago, had owned an empire that stretched to the four corners of the earth. Since then they’d taken a beating and had been knocked flat on their face, but none of that mattered to Carter. It was his job to calculate the risk and, despite the loss of their influential leader, there was always a chance that the organisation could climb back to its feet. It was unlikely, but you could never be sure. Whether the organisation was weakened or not didn’t play a part in Carter’s plans. He would treat the enemy like anyone else: with ruthlessness. The second target was about fifteen miles away in the wild, sweeping Hong Kong countryside. Of the fifty-strong SWAT team that had made the journey over to Eastern Asia from Britain, thirty men had been sent over there including Carter’s second-in-command, a capable Lieutenant called Briggs. Carter had decided the second target was the biggest threat because of all the defence mechanisms that had been put in place in order to protect it – unsurprising considering the value of some of the goods that passed through it each day. However, Carter already knew about these traps and had passed this information on to every member of the SWAT team – there would be no excuses where breaking inside the base was concerned. It had been a group of teenagers that had revealed this to him; supposedly they were working undercover for MI6 and had managed to successfully infiltrate the K.O organisation. They’d met just three hours ago at a fast-food restaurant a couple of blocks away and Carter had been told everything he needed to know in order to make the raid a success. Carter didn’t approve of kids being used in an adult’s world – it was far too dangerous and he suspected they would crack at the first sign of trouble - but he’d pushed that opinion to one side. He had far more important things on his mind. Meanwhile, no more than a few kilometres away on the other side of Hong Kong Island, the Bennett family had just finished dinner. Still buoyant from the excitement of being involved in two separate shoot-ups in the past few days, Toby offered to clear the plates away while Jack helped Fred hobble over to the lounge. “There, put your leg up on the table, you old cripple,” Jack smiled. Fred scowled and slumped back onto the sofa. “I swear to God,” he muttered. “If one more person calls me that I’m going to punch them into next week.” “Whack them with your walking stick more like,” Ella added and sat down beside him. “How’s it feeling?” “Alright at the moment, I suppose. Hurts like hell when I try and do anything physical though.” “Well, no change there then,” Jack grinned. Fred ignored him. “Of all the ways to break your leg though,” he muttered. “At least if I’d got shot then I’d have a really cool scar to show all my mates back at MI6. But no, a wooden crate has to fall on me instead. A bloody crate!” Everyone laughed. “Oh well, at least it’s not your arm,” Toby said. “How on earth would you play Call of Duty then?” Fred shrugged. “I’m so bad a broken arm probably wouldn’t make much difference.” “That reminds me,” Sophie said, joining them in the lounge and switching on the TV. “How are they coping? King’s children, I mean.” “Badly,” Jack admitted. “It’s just sod’s law that, just as they were beginning to grow closer, their father should be snatched away from them like that. Olivia’s trying to keep them all together, but you know what Charlie’s like when he gets upset. Apparently, he’s drinking more than he’s ever done before. For both his and his family’s sake, I hope he doesn’t go and do anything stupid.” Sophie nodded solemnly. “You did all you could,” she said and patted Jack on the back. “Calvin King made his choice a long time ago.” Just then Lancaster appeared and he was carrying something in his hand. It was a radio, but not a neat, modern one which you could purchase from just about every electronics shop in Hong Kong. It was a chunkier thing with more dials and buttons than a Blackberry. “Satellite radio,” Lancaster explained and slumped down in one of the armchairs. He stared at the TV screen and cringed. “Why are we watching this crap?” “I’ll look for a film,” Ella said and grabbed the remote control. “So what’s this for exactly?” Toby said, studying the radio closely and fiddling with a couple of the dials. Lancaster pushed him away and told him off. “For the next few hours, this is going to be our only source of information,” he answered. “There are two SAS units, each targeting one of K.O’s headquarters, and both leaders have radios on them. If anything important happens that’s worth us knowing, I’ve asked them to tell us about it.” “So it’s basically a live news feed,” Jack said, “Like they’re commentators at a football match or something.” “Uh, yeah. I suppose you could see it that way.” “96.3 SAS FM,” Fred smiled. “Does that mean we have musical interludes?” “No.” “How about adverts? Oh God, I hope they’re not as bad as those in England.” “No, no adverts.” Lancaster shook his head exasperatedly and checked the time. “Six o’clock. If they’re as precise as everyone says they are, they should be starting any moment now.” “Are you sure you want to hang around for this?” Sophie asked seriously. “For the most part, it’s going to be pretty boring.” “We’ve come this far,” Toby replied, summing up all four of the junior agents’ feelings. “I think we can make it through a few more hours.” “Very well.” Lancaster flicked a few dials, adjusted the tuning and then switched the radio on. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room and Lancaster turned the volume down slightly. They heard footsteps pounding on a hard surface and knew that the SAS unit were already up and running. Efficient – it summed them up in a nutshell. “What if someone intercepts the signal?” Ella asked, but Lancaster shook his head. “Private satellite and frequency,” he explained. “Only two radios in the world can pick it up. Ours…” “And MI6’s,” Jack answered. Lancaster nodded. “At the end of the day, it is the success of our mission that has made this all possible. Consider ourselves a bit like woodworms. We’re the ones that break down the tree and create the frailties and fault lines, but it’s the wind that actually knocks it to the ground.” “Woodworms, thanks,” Ella muttered sarcastically. “I can’t think of anything more flattering.” The next hour passed slowly. Ella had found a film on TV that they all could watch, but no one really paid it any attention. They were too busy listening out for news from the radio, even though all they’d received so far were a few brief updates. The last had been over half an hour ago when the SAS Unit at the secret base had successfully made it up the dirt trail and past the defence mechanisms. For everything that had happened since then, they were completely in the dark. Toby was so agitated, he couldn’t sit still. “I wish I was out there now,” he mumbled. “You know… finishing what we started.” The others could only smile. Jack realised Toby was going to make a great junior agent, if only because of his energetic and enthusiastic attitude. Jack supposed he himself might have once been like that, years ago before he’d come to terms with the true reality of what working undercover in a foreign country was like. He’d always thought that being a spy was cool and fun and admittedly, sometimes, it was. But it could also be frustrating and tedious, especially when things didn’t go your way. More than anything though it was dangerous – exceedingly dangerous - and no amount of success could ever patch over that. Sometimes Jack felt he couldn’t even go to the toilet or walk to the nearest shop without feeling vulnerable. And the only way to stop this would be to put it behind him. Once and for all. Fred had fallen asleep with his leg still propped up on the table, so Toby busied himself by grabbing a marker pen and scrawling crude images on his cast. Only minutes later when Toby couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer did Fred awake with a jolt. “What? What’s happened?” Then he noticed the freshly-drawn pictures on his leg and the marker pen in Toby’s hand, lid off. “You bastard,” he yelled and lunged towards him. But Toby was too quick. He scampered behind the sofa and Fred was stranded, unable to reach him without having to grab his crutches. And then the radio crackled. “Come on then, old man,” Toby laughed and drew the pen quickly down Fred’s cheek. “Catch me if you can.” “Quiet!” Lancaster shouted and Toby stopped laughing in an instant. The senior agent’s voice had been so firm and serious, it was almost as if he had no choice. Lancaster turned up the volume and they all gathered round; nobody was going to miss this. “This is Leiutenant Colonel Joseph Carter,” a voice said, so emotionless that it was impossible to tell whether he was about to say good or bad news. “Do you copy?” “We hear you, Colonel,” Lancaster replied into the inbuilt microphone. “Loud and clear.” “The enemy headquarters in Hong Kong city is now safely under SAS control. Enemy bodies have either been eliminated or captured for further interrogation, as requested by the Head of MI6. Friendly causalities: zero. Now awaiting confirmation that the assault on Target Two was equally as successful.” The group all looked at each other, unable to hide the excitement from their faces. They were almost there! The finishing line was in sight. Two months of hard work had come down to this one moment. And ten minutes later, it arrived. “Lieutenant Briggs speaking: The guards put up a strong fight, but we managed to beat them in the end. Defence mechanisms deactivated. Remaining enemies surrendered… The base is ours.” Lancaster smiled with relief and picked up the microphone. “Good work, gentlemen. Over and out.” He switched off the radio. And only then did the celebrations truly begin.*It was gone midnight by the time Jack staggered back into his bedroom, his body drunk on champagne and his brain throbbing from all the loud voices that had been pumped through his ears. But for once it didn’t matter. There would be no school tomorrow – no need to get up early in the morning. As soon as they were awake, Lancaster would organise the first flight back to London and then all that would be left to do was to pack their bags. They’d been living here in Hong Kong for well over two months now. They didn’t want to stay a second longer than they had to. Even secret agents feel homesick sometimes. Jack kicked off his socks then flopped onto the bed, his head sinking into the soft pillows. His jaws ached from non-stop talking and laughing, but still he kept on smiling. It was as if his muscles were glued in place by a strong adhesive, as unbreakable as the close bond that had formed between the six MI6 agents over the course of the mission. Besides, Jack thought, in the past few years he’d been shot at, kicked at and stabbed at more times than he cared to remember. He could handle a small ache no problem. He could handle anything. Sighing with pure happiness and content, Jack slipped under the covers and turned his head to look out of the panoramic window. It was true that he would miss Hong Kong, not just because of the fabulous setting but also because of the people he’d got to know in it: Ella, Fred, Toby… and of course Charlie and Charlotte. Jack was sad that he wouldn’t be able to see them again, but he knew the rules. He’d known this moment would arrive eventually even before the plane had landed all those weeks ago. Each mission was the same, but he already knew that this one would leave a longer-lasting impact on him than all the others. The scars had penetrated deeper, but so had the memories. Two months was a long time and while he’d never truly settled down in the city, there was a lot he could take away from the experience: New friends. New enemies. And the same old danger, of course. But at the end of the day, there was no place like home. Hong Kong might be stunning with all its modern skyscrapers and rich millionaire penthouses, but it wasn’t where he belonged. It wasn’t everything. After all, what was the point of the finest house in the world if you didn’t have anybody to share it with – the people that mattered most in your life? It wasn’t the design and furniture that made a house perfect. It was the people inside of it. And now it was final. He would be going home tomorrow. A chance to see his real friends and his real family again. A chance to put the past behind him. A chance to perhaps even lead a normal life for a while. For while he was still living, he could always hope. Even Jack could admit it; he’d been tied to this mission for too long. But not anymore. Finally he could let go of the rope and close his eyes, allow tomorrow to guide him to the one place that he wanted to be more than any other: Home. Finally it was over. 30Nothing Lasts ForeverNew Year’s Eve They were going to have to contact him eventually. Whenever he came back from a mission, they always did. It was standard procedure. But this time they waited. It was now the winter holidays and the team had made it back just in time for Christmas; even Mr Grey wasn’t going to be that harsh. So that meant Jack had almost a whole week to spend with his family, to catch up with proceedings and find out about everything that had happened in his absence before being dragged back into the world that he was so reluctant to return to. It was only for an hour, he told himself. They could do nothing to him this time. He decided not to tell his mum that he was going. He felt it was better that way. James would know, of course – he was working at the MI6 Headquarters in Vauxhall even as Jack caught the midday train into London. But he understood Jack’s position. They’d already spoken about it at great length since his return from Hong Kong. Jack had made his decision and, whatever it was, James would always stand by that. After all, they were family. It’s what you do. Fourth floor. Far end of the corridor. Jack knew the place like the back of his hand. As he stepped out of the lift and approached the most important room in the whole building, the door opened and Ella walked out. She’d changed since they last saw each other; her blond hair had been cut shorter, she was wearing less make up and, now that there was no karate practice to worry about, she’d ditched the tracksuit bottoms for a pair of navy legwarmers; if there was one thing that Jack didn’t miss about home, it was the dreary British winter weather. But to Jack she was still the same person that had rescued him from the Black Eagle compound and as they reached each other in the corridor, he stopped and smiled. “Fancy seeing you here, sis.” “How was your Christmas?” “Crackers,” Jack replied, “Although not a patch on a good night out at the Golden Sun.” Ella laughed and shook her head. “Always the wisecrack.” “Toby or Fred not with you?” Jack asked. She shook her head. “They were debriefed before me,” she said, “But by the sounds of things, Grey only had positive things to say about them.” “They’re good kids,” Jack nodded. “I hope they do well in life. What did he have to say to you?” Ella shrugged. “Not much. Well done, you performed admirably, you’ve helped to save many innocent lives… the usual, I suppose.” “You deserve better,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you.” Ella smiled shyly and raised one shoulder. “Just looking out for a friend.” She stared down the corridor; the open lift was waiting for her. “Well, have a good New Year.” “Yeah, you too.” As she walked down the corridor and stepped into the lift, smiling and waving at Jack as the door closed, Jack knew that was the last time he would ever see her. Ella was seventeen – she had at least one more year of her spy career to go. Jack was eighteen – it was time to make the biggest decision of his life. He knocked on the office door, took a deep breath, then walked in. “Jack, you’re looking well.” Mr Grey desperately tried to force a smile onto his face as Jack entered, but ultimately failed. There were St Bernard’s that smiled more often than Mr Grey – it just wasn’t in the man’s nature. Eventually he gave up and pointed Jack to the seat across from his desk. “My shoulder’s in heavy strapping and the doctor’s say I can’t play football for another fortnight,” Jack said. “I’d hardly call it well.” Mr Grey raised his eyebrows. “But Calvin King and Nico Muller are looking a lot worse, are they not?” He left Jack to ponder over this thought and turned to his private secretary, a middle-aged woman called Miss Woodham, who was hanging around in the corner of the room. “Strong coffee, please, Jennifer. Black.” Mr Grey turned back to Jack. “Coffee?” “No thanks.” He couldn’t stand the stuff. “Biscuits?” “I’m fine.” Jack knew why Mr Grey was acting so welcoming; he’d suspected this would happen the moment he’d landed back on home soil. “I won’t be staying for long.” Mr Grey didn’t reply. “Just the coffee then, Jennifer,” he said and as his secretary left the room, he reached across his desk and pulled a neat file closer towards him, tucking in one of the sheets inside so that it was exactly flush with the folder. Prepared and pedantic – it summed up the Head of MI6 perfectly. “Where to begin…” Mr Grey mused and opened up the folder. Jack pretended not to be interested – the last time Mr Grey had shown him a Top Secret file, the next morning he’d been jetted off to the other side of the world. But, despite his best efforts, he was drawn to it and this time he could see that it wasn’t a file on the Massacre Chain at all. It wasn’t even to do with a mission. It was about him. On the inside of the document there was a black and white image clipped to the top of the beige card. It was a photograph, taken last summer soon after school had broken, and it showed a teenage boy with fair hair swept to one side across his forehead, an athletic body and a broad grin on his face as a result of telling a joke just seconds previously. The tie had come off, the top button was undone and he was looking forward to six long weeks of nothing but rest and relaxation. Jack remembered the moment as if it was only yesterday. If the picture had been enlarged, his best friend, Matt, would have been standing beside him, scowling no doubt after Jack had taken a jibe at his holiday plans. But the photographer hadn’t been interested in Matt. After all, what use would he be? Jack had never seen the photographer that day, but then that was MI6 for you: invisible one day, knocking on your door and sending you off to Iraq the next. They were always in control, never the victims. That’s what made them so good at their job. “Thunder Rider: Success… Suicidal: Success… Devil’s Heart: Success.” Mr Grey went through each of Jack’s missions over the past four years, ticking them off as he read them. And with each one, a different memory would return to Jack: the burning building in Rio de Janeiro, the gladiator coliseum in Egypt… Looking back on it, it was startling to hear just how many times his life had been put in danger by the man sitting in front of him. Only now was the truth fully beginning to dawn on Jack. “And finally we come to this one: Massacre Chain.” Mr Grey looked across at Jack. “Success?” “You tell me.” “Well, I should think so.” Mr Grey didn’t need a document – he knew all the facts off by heart. “The once gargantuan illegal weaponry dealers known as K.O have crumbled, following in the footsteps of their late ally, and as an added bonus their major rival - the Black Eagles – have followed suit. Already the German Chancellor has contacted the Home Office personally to thank us for our contribution in helping stop cross-border crime.” Mr Grey paused. “Or should that be your contribution?” “I wasn’t the only one,” Jack replied. “It’s called a team effort.” “Yes, so it is.” Mr Grey coughed and changed the subject. “This is the first time we’ve spoken to each other since you arrived back from Hong Kong. As a result, I don’t suppose you will have heard about what’s happened in the aftermath of the mission.” “Thanks for the offer,” Jack said. “But I’m not interested.” “Oh really?” Mr Grey said, raising his eyebrows behind the rimmed spectacles. “That is rather odd. I would have thought you’d want to know what has happened to the King family; what’s become of the two elder siblings… Charlie and Charlotte, I believe.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It was my understanding that the three of you had become quite close.” Inside, Jack cursed. The Head of MI6 was always doing that to him; exploiting the weakness that was his strong sense of curiosity. Three months ago it had almost ended up getting him killed. This time he would be more careful. “Fine,” Jack sighed. “Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.” Still remaining emotionless, Mr Grey began: “As you know, the two K.O headquarters in Hong Kong are now under army control. After a thorough search in which anything of interest or use was taken for further investigation, both buildings were handed over to the Hong Kong government yesterday afternoon. I don’t know what they intend to do with them at the moment, but my guess is that the secret base will be razed and the office in the city centre converted. After all the embarrassment that has been caused by one of the biggest criminal organisations in the world working under their very noses, I doubt they’ll want to keep any of the memories behind. As for the Black Eagle compound in Berlin, as I understand it you’ve already done the demolisher’s work for them.” “Well, blow me down,” Jack muttered dryly. “What about the K.O clubhouse?” “Planning has already been put in place by the local council to convert the Golden Sun into a martial arts centre for local, underprivileged children,” Mr Grey answered. “They hope it will encourage a healthier lifestyle among the local population and will enable young people to defend themselves more ably against the remaining Triad groups in the city.” “I bet that’s a kick in the teeth for them.” “More than you’d think,” Mr Grey nodded. “In the wake of K.O’s demise, the Hong Kong government has demanded a crackdown on organised crime. As far as they’re concerned, no organisation is safe. It is the same story in Germany and so, unsurprisingly, this month’s figures have shown a dramatic decrease in the amount of trade through the illegal and black market. Even the smartest criminal in the world couldn’t deny it: the criminal underworld is on its way down.” Jack tried not to show any emotion, but deep down a part of his body liked the sound of that. Saving lives, making the world a better place… Ella was right: sometimes it did all make sense. Sometimes. “So what about the Kings?” Jack asked. “It’s not as if they don’t have enough money to start a new life.” Mr Grey nodded. “It was reported a few days ago that they’ve immigrated back to Britain, settling down in their old hometown of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, they may have even bought back the same house that they vacated half a decade ago.” “Whose choice was that?” “That I do not know. In fact, I was rather hoping that you might be able to answer it for me. After all, you were the closest the family ever had to a friend while out there.” Jack had a theory alright; he’d always known that the likes of Charlie and Charlotte had never really settled down and fitted in with their new lifestyle. Compared to what they were used to, it was just too different. The luxury penthouse and the lavishing of gifts had helped to paper over the cracks, but the feelings of discontent had always been there, just waiting to break free from their restraints. Jack had suspected that all the family needed was one excuse to move back to England and now they had one. While it hadn’t turned out exactly as they’d hoped, there would be no point dwelling upon it now. They were still extremely wealthy and while all the money in the world wouldn’t bring their father and husband back, it could buy them a hell of a lot of other things instead. “Charlotte tried calling me soon after we arrived at Heathrow,” Jack said instead to Mr Grey. “I didn’t reply. The SIM card’s been destroyed.” Life moved on. They would never hear of Jack or any of the Bennett family ever again (they’d all decided that a silent exit with minimal fuss was the best thing for everyone). But at least they were back where they belonged, Jack thought. He suspected they would be happier there. Unlike their father, they didn’t deserve to be tied up in the complex, unforgiving web that was the criminal world. “A sensible move,” Mr Grey nodded. “The mission’s well and truly over. As far as we’re concerned, the Bennett family never existed. It wouldn’t be wise to dwell on the past.” Jack nodded. “Anything else?” “Only to say that once again, Jack, you have excelled beyond all expectation. And this time not only through your actions, but also the guidance that you’ve shown towards the younger agents. Skill and ability is valuable. Experience is priceless. You have both. Take the scenario in the Black Eagle compound, for example, when Nico Muller was planning to make you a pheasant for his men to shoot down. In such a hopeless and impossible situation, most normal people would have panicked and been picked off easily. But not you, Jack. You’re not normal.” “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “You stayed calm, kept a cool head and considered the situation properly. That’s the only reason why you’re sitting here today and that’s why you are so invaluable to us, Jack. There’s no one else like you in the organisation. Sometimes the difference between life and death is so slight, it’s barely noticeable; such as a slight inaccuracy in a bullet can mean puncturing a heart or missing it altogether. A couple of millimetres, but it makes all the difference. You are that difference, Jack. That is why we need you.” It took several seconds for Jack to work out what to say. He’d come in here with a plan, but the suddenness and brutality of Mr Grey’s plea had knocked him off guard. And the Head of MI6 knew it. But Mr Grey had tricked him once too often. It wasn’t going to happen again. “Then if that’s all you’ve got to say,” Jack said and stood up. “I’ll leave you to your coffee.” “Jack, please. Just hear me out.” Jack froze. Had Mr Grey just pleaded with him? The Head of MI6 was one of the most powerful men in the whole country and here he was, begging Jack to listen to what he had to say. It was only then that Jack realised how big this was to him. Before he knew what he was doing, he had sat back down. “I’m eighteen now,” Jack said calmly. “By law, that means I can make my own decisions.” “I am well aware of that,” Mr Grey replied. “And believe me, I will respect whatever decision you make. As you say, at the end of the day, it is entirely your choice. But please, even if your mind is already set, allow me to finish. Now that you’ve come to the end of your junior career, if you do decide to leave us, then it will be the last thing I ever say to you. “I’ve been Head of MI6 for twenty years – a long time even by my standards – and in that time I’ve seen many an agent come and go. Some were decent. Some were no more than average. But only a handful of agents truly excel at what they do. “However, strangely enough, it is not unbelievable skill or brute determination that makes them this. Of course, that has some part to play in it, but I have made it my job to observe every single secret agent – senior or junior – that passes through this organisation, and the one thing I notice that all great agents have his instinct. It’s not something that you can learn. It’s not something that you can teach. It’s just something that comes naturally to the person. In other words, being a spy is in their blood. I’m an old man, Jack. I’m more experienced than any other person in the organisation. I know a great agent when I see one. Lancaster was one… your father was one… “…And you are one.” Miss Woodham returned with his coffee and left it on the desk without a single word. Then she left. Mr Grey took a long sip of his drink, allowing Jack to chew over what had been said. “I can see it in your eyes, Jack,” Mr Grey then continued. “You know what I’m talking about. For example, has there been any moment in your life when you’ve just sensed danger approaching? Even without any hint or warning? Or how about the unerring ability to escape out of impossible situations? Don’t tell me that Chase or one of the other instructors taught you that! Can’t you see, Jack? You were born to be a spy. That was why your father first brought you here all those years ago!” Jack wanted to speak, but Mr Grey raised a hand for silence. This was still his office. He made the rules. “Let me pose you a question Jack,” he said and stroked his withered chin. “Now that Torpedo and K.O are gone forever, do you think that the world is a safer place?” “There’s certainly a lot less psychopaths around if that’s what you mean,” Jack mumbled. Mr Grey smiled, but there was about as much warmth in it as an icicle. “I’m afraid, Jack, that is where you are wrong. Two huge criminal organisations may have collapsed, yes. But there will always be others just waiting to fill their place. Take the Black Eagles for example: the whole purpose of their attack on K.O was so that they could usurp them as the dominant organisation and, if it hadn’t been for you, they might well have succeeded. “You might understand it better if I said it was like a football club. When one player leaves, it provides the chance for another to step up to the plate. There are always budding youngsters ready to prove their worth to the world and it’s the same with most things in society; government, filmmakers, teachers… Really, the criminal underworld is no different. It’s a constant cycle that, I’m afraid, shows no signs of stopping. You can tame the beast, but you cannot kill it. And that is why we always need our best agents. Agents like you.” “Sorry, sir. You’re not going to change my mind.” “But isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? To follow in your father’s footsteps and become a senior agent?” The Head of MI6 was trying his best, but the desperation was beginning to show. Jack had never seen Mr Grey lose his cool over anything so mundane… until now. “For a time, I thought I did,” Jack admitted. “But that was a while ago. Now I’ve changed my mind. And I’m not a patriot if that’s what you think. I’m not like James who does it for the queen, the country and the glory. I joined MI6 because I thought it was fun. It was a chance to meet new people, make new friends, do stuff that I wouldn’t normally do stuck at home doing nothing every weekend. It was a chance to see new places, to occupy my spare time and to test myself by pushing my ability to the very limit. And, for a while, I very much enjoyed the experience, even the missions – as Ella said to me not a couple of days ago, there’s something distinctly satisfying about making a positive difference to people’s lives. It makes you proud.” “Then what’s changed?” Mr Grey was genuinely interested. “It’s not what, Mr Grey. It’s not even you. It’s me. I’m what has changed. I’ve grown up. I’m not the child that first stepped into your office four years ago. I’ve developed into an adult and with that I’ve become wiser. Not that I’m saying I was stupid or anything to join MI6 in the first place… It’s just, recently, I’ve come to recognise and appreciate what’s around me a whole lot more. “I’m extremely proud of what I’ve done. Make no mistake about that. And I can tell you now that I don’t regret any of it. If I had the opportunity to rewind the last four years of my life, I wouldn’t. I’d keep it exactly the same.” “Then why?” That was the problem with Mr Grey. For all his intelligence, he could never understand true emotions. He was about as sensitive as a stone. A stone that had been weather-beaten for the past century. “Nothing lasts forever, sir,” Jack replied. “You of all people should know that. I suppose I started doubting this was where my future lied soon after I returned back from Australia two years ago. Aside from when Thomas ingested the class A drugs, it was the first time that anyone really close to me had been put in danger. First there was Dad being sniped right in front of his own house. Then there was a member of Jess’ family being a target for an assassination over in Sydney. I never wanted people to get hurt, but when it’s someone close to you it’s even worse. Craig Taylor capturing all my friends and family last summer only enhanced that feeling. “Not only that, but as I say, I’ve started to become more aware of the world around me. Visiting all these different places around the world – from Brasilia to Berlin, Cairo to Calgary – and seeing how people live has shown me just how much more there still is for me to live for. There are hundreds of things that I want to see and do before I die and I fear that, if I carry on working for MI6, I won’t have that opportunity for much longer. “Being a secret agent is full of secrets, Mr Grey, but this isn’t one of them: being a spy is dangerous. In the past few years, I’ve been in so many life-threatening situations that, quite frankly, I’ve lost count. It’s a miracle that I haven’t been killed already. Only pure luck has kept me alive so far, but that will run out eventually. You surely can’t expect me to keep defying death every time? I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: nothing lasts forever. “And so now, I feel, is the right time to call it a day; to pack my bags, to say my goodbyes and to leave the organisation while still on good terms. I’ve devoted four years of my life to the service and, considering I’m still only a teenager, I think that’s a respectable career in any profession, let alone one as challenging and dangerous as being a spy. “Now I want to start a new chapter of my life and one that doesn’t involve armed men trying to shoot me down every time I step out of my house or kick a football. I know it might sound odd, but what I really want is just a normal life. Not boring. Just normal. I want a decent house, a nice car and, most importantly, a family. But before that, I’m going to go to university. If I quit now, that gives me six months to catch up on my schoolwork and try and salvage my education. I’d intended to leave MI6 at the start of the school year, but you managed to talk me into this one final mission. I’m not angry at you anymore – I understand the benefit that our success will have on the world. If you ask me, it is a fitting swansong. But now it’s time for me to leave. For good. No more secrets. No more lies. No more danger. I’ve had enough…. Enough excitement to last a lifetime.” “Please…” Now there was no denying the desperation in Mr Grey’s voice. He was hunched over the desk, almost pleading with Jack. Jack had never seen him like this before. In their last few seconds together, the Head of MI6 was showing a new side to his stern personality. But the sympathy vote wouldn’t work. It wasn’t going to change anything. “Sorry, sir,” Jack said firmly. “I made my decision a long time ago. I’m going. You won’t see me again. But I leave by wishing you the best of luck for the future. Both you and MI6.” “What a great…. shame.” Mr Grey sat back in his chair and frowned, the age lines in his forehead creasing deeply. “Your father, I know, would be very disappointed.” “Well, actually, that’s where you’re wrong!” Suddenly Jack was angry. More angry than he’d ever been before. In fact, he was furious. He couldn’t believe that, even now, Mr Grey was using the same old guilt trip on him. Did the man have no shame? No, of course he didn’t, Jack thought. That was why he was here now. That was why he was the Head of MI6. “I’ve already spoken with my dad. He knows my favoured choice and he understands my decision. It doesn’t mean he agrees with it, but at least he doesn’t go round trying to force me to change my mind. I’ve already told you countless time where my future lies. You’re not going to change that. So why keep trying with more and more pathetic excuses?” Jack suddenly stood up, sending his chair shooting backwards like a bullet. “I’ve risked my life for you countless times and this is how you repay me? Do you appreciate anything that I’ve done?” “Of course, we do, Jack.” Mr Grey sighed and shook his head. “You’re overreacting. Clearly the stress of the last missions is getting to you. If you just let-” “You know what? Forget it! I don’t need to be here. I don’t work for you anymore. I’ve heard about the mission and now I can leave. There are better things I could be doing with my time. Catching up on all the schoolwork you’ve cost me for one.” “Jack…! Wait!” “Goodbye, sir,” Jack said and stared down with pure loathing and contempt at the man that had once been his boss. In recent months, he’d thought that the man had changed. How wrong could he have been? It wasn’t the Head of MI6 that had changed. It had only been himself. “I’d like to say that I’ll miss you, but I’m afraid I can’t. Frankly, I’d rather share a room with Craig Taylor than go anywhere near you again.” And with that, Jack turned on his heel and stormed out of the office. The door slammed behind him for the very last time. *It was lucky that Jack had calmed himself down by the time he made it back home, because his mum was waiting for him by the front door. If his cheeks had still been flustered and there’d been tears staining his eyes, there would have been some questions to answer. “How did it go?” Rachel asked. Jack shrugged. “I won’t be going back again,” he replied. “That’s the main thing.” “That’s my boy,” she smiled, ruffling his hair like he was still a little kid. “We’ll make a university graduate out of you yet.” “Yeah, yeah, no pressure.” Jack pushed her hand away, feeling embarrassed, and stepped into the house. Straight away he knew something was up. Usually the house was teeming with life, but now it was strangely quiet. Was this the natural instinct Mr Grey had been talking about? How he could sense danger even before he saw it? No. Jack put the thought of his mind. He didn’t have anything to do with that man anymore. Besides, despite the silence, it wasn’t danger that he sensed. It was something else. Rachel had followed him into the house. She closed the door and nodded across the hallway. “Why don’t we go into the living room?” she suggested and nudged Jack forward. Frowning with suspicion, Jack walked in… …and suddenly everyone burst out to greet him. James and Thomas were at the front of the pack and reached him first. Thomas smiled at him awkwardly, not really knowing what to do, but James ignored everything and embraced his son in a huge bear hug. “I’ll always be proud of you, Jack,” he said. “No matter what path in life you take.” “Thanks, Dad,” Jack smiled. “That means a lot to me.” James smiled and hobbled backwards, only just beginning to get used to the crutches which would stay with him for the rest of his life. Next in line were Matt and Darren, Jack’s best friends from secondary school. They both clapped him on the back then Matt said, “Where the hell were you, man? The school team’s lost half of its games because of you!” Jack smiled; trust Matt to bring football up first in a conversation. If it wasn’t girls, it was always sport. “I’ll try and be a bit quicker next time,” he said. “Yeah, you do that.” Then it was Darren’s turn: “Good to have you back, mate,” he said warmly. “After what happened in the summer, I swear you must be mental to ever go back to that place.” Jack forced a wry grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to return any time soon.” The final figure was standing at the back of the crowd, hanging around nervously by one of the sofas, and it wasn’t until Matt and Darren stepped aside that Jack noticed her. “Jess…” He couldn’t believe his eyes. She was supposed to be in Australia! “…what are you doing here?” Jessica smiled shyly; they hadn’t seen each other for several months and, clearly, she hadn’t been quite sure what to expect. “It’s the Christmas holidays, you idiot,” she said. “We’ve come over for two weeks and rented a cottage down in Somerset. This is the first chance we’ve had to come up here. Looks like I made it just in time.” She looked at him, taking him all in as if, somehow, in her absence she’d forgotten just what he looked like. “Why? Aren’t you pleased to see me?” “No! Of course I am!” Jack stammered hurriedly. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. I’m just… surprised. That’s all. But surprised in a good way.” “Good,” Jess smiled. “You had me worried there.” For the next few seconds there was an awkward silence in which they both tried to think of something to say. And it was in those few seconds that Jack suddenly realised: if Jess was here to welcome him back home then that meant she must know about the mission. A horrible sinking feeling stemmed from the pit of Jack’s stomach and he closed his eyes. Girl trouble. This was the last thing he needed. “I’m sorry, Jess,” he said quietly. “I should’ve listened to you. I broke my promise. I went on another mission.” He hung his head in shame. He felt rotten. Rotten as a corpse. “If you want to break up with me, that’s fine. If you never want to see me again, then I’ll completely understand.” Silence. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. And then Jessica laughed, shattering the tension. Jack’s ears perked up and his head lifted from the floor; he remembered that laugh. He’d missed that laugh. Out of all the great things about her, it was one of the things he’d always loved most. “Do you think I’d come all this way if I wanted to dump you?” She shook her head and grinned. “Honestly, Jack… what have these Chinese schools been doing to your brain?” Jack smiled sheepishly. “It was Hong Kong actually.” “Same thing.” Jack was about to argue, but then thought better of it. He’d already been involved in one big argument today. He didn’t want to start another. “Listen, Jack. Nobody’s perfect. Not you. Not me. Not anyone. That is what I understand. Besides, I figured you would go on one more anyway. You’re too good for them to let you get away that easily. But you’re back in one piece – that’s the most important thing. And now you’ve put it all behind you. Permanently. You’re not going to get involved with them again. Guns, criminals, murder… it’s all behind you. And now you’ve only got me to worry about.” She smiled and suddenly all the nerves from earlier had vanished. “That’s all I care about.” Just as he’d always done out in the field with MI6, Jack allowed his natural instincts to guide him. He stepped forward and, before he knew what he was doing, had taken Jessica’s soft cheeks in his hands and kissed her flush on the lips. But it was more than a kiss. It was the best thing in the whole wide world. Jessica didn’t resist. Instead, Jack felt her lips relax and mould into his; smoother than silk, softer than a pillow. It was glorious. Wonderful. Exhilarating. Perfect. Jack didn’t know for how long they stood there like that; he was subconsciously aware that the others were all watching them, but he didn’t care. That was just part of the spy in him. The part of him that he was leaving behind forever. As far as he was concerned it was just he and Jessica, trapped in their own perfect bubble; as unbreakable as a Kevlar vest, not a single thing could disturb them. Eventually, after what might have been minutes, they prised each other away, still keeping their faces close. Jessica’s blue eyes twinkled like rays of sun reflecting off the sea and her smile was more dazzling than all the stars in the night sky. “There, you’ve kissed and made up,” Matt said impatiently. “Now are we going to go to this firework display or not?” “What?” For the first time, Jack was distracted. “What firework display?” He wondered whether it was for him. “It’s New Year’s Eve,” Rachel reiterated. “There’s always a firework display down in the park, remember?” “Oh yeah.” “We thought it might be a nice idea for all of us to go over there, you know, to celebrate. What do you think of that?” Jack smiled; already he was beginning to remember the last time he’d been to the firework display, when he was still just a toddler. Shit, that was a long time ago. He remembered jumping every time the fireworks exploded, his mum holding his hand to comfort him. But not anymore. Since then Jack had fought lions, sprinted through burning buildings and parachuted out of a Tornado GR4. Now, there were very few things in the world that scared him at all: The Exorcist was one, Torpedo coming back from the grave another. Mrs Barker, Jack’s maths teacher at school, was pushing for a top-three place, but then Jack remembered something else and knew that there could only be one clear winner: Losing his friends and family. And, unfortunately, he’d experienced that fear first hand. Jack brought himself back to his senses and realised everyone was waiting for his verdict. He smiled: “I think that’s a great idea.” “I thought you might,” Rachel said knowingly. “That’s why I’m your mother. Now, it’s cold outside so there are mugs of hot chocolate waiting in the kitchen and don’t forget to wrap up warm. You left your coat at the top of the stairs, Jack.” “Mum…” Jack gestured silently towards his friends standing around him. Matt and Darren snickered playfully into their hands and turned around. “I think I know where I put my stuff by now.” Rachel smiled; she didn’t look in the slightest bit apologetic. In fact, she seemed to enjoy watching him get flustered in front of his mates and girlfriend. He may have turned eighteen, but as long as she kept on playing the embarrassing-mum role whenever there were others around, she would always have some power over him. Teenage spy or not. “I know, honey,” she beamed and patted his head. “I was just making sure.” Jack shook his head in disapproval, but even he could see the funny side of it. By the time they all stepped out of the front door five minutes later, pausing half way down the driveway to take in the still night air, they were still all laughing. *Rachel was right: it was cold outside. But with Jessica holding onto his arm and Matt talking animatedly about Arsenal’s win at the weekend a few paces in front of him, Jack didn’t feel it at all. In all his life, he’d never felt more alive than right now. The park was a fifteen minute walk away, but after just a few streets they could tell they were getting close. It was hidden by several rows of houses and a high skyline of trees, but even from this distance it was clear that something special was going on. The whole area was bathed in the artificial glow of several floodlights, like a bright light being shone down from heaven. As they got nearer, more and more families began to join them from the local neighbourhood until it was a stronghold of over fifty people that eventually made it up the gravel path and into the park. Standing in the very heart of the crowd, Jack and Jessica looked at each other and smiled. In a large clearing that was often used as a cricket pitch during the summer, the event organisers had set up the display; lines and lines of cylindrical tubes pointing up into the sky that reminded Jack of rocket launchers or the barrels of a hundred artillery machines. With just a few minutes left till midnight the clearing was heaving with excited families, but they were lucky; James managed to find them a small space right next to the edge of the action and they all huddled together, like a family of penguins in the middle of a snowstorm. “You don’t get nights like this in Sydney,” Jessica said, staring all around her with amazement. “You don’t get boyfriends like this in Sydney,” Jack grinned and kissed her on the cheek. Jessica laughed and shook her head, her sapphire blue eyes catching in the moonlight. “You leave MI6 and suddenly you think you’re James Bond.” She smiled and returned the kiss. “I’ve missed you.” “Five months for this one moment,” Jack whispered back. “I’d say it was worth the wait.” Suddenly the countdown began and they both turned to face the centre of the ring. “Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…”Jack took Jessica’s hand in his and she squeezed it tightly. For most of the year she might be on the other side of the world, Jack thought, but really she would never leave him. Not while she was always in his heart. “Six… Five… Four…” James put his arm around Jack’s shoulder and they all stared up into the sky, in anticipation for the start of the celebration. The last few seconds of the year were about to run out, giving Jack enough time to reflect on everything that had happened: Without a doubt, it had been his most difficult to date by far. And also his most dangerous. Was it only five months ago that Craig Taylor had almost succeeded in killing every single person that Jack had ever loved (plus many more besides)? For a few seconds, Jack had died that day. Not just mentally, but also physically. If things hadn’t turned out different and the defibrillator hadn’t brought his heart back to life, he would have stayed that way. And now the mission in Hong Kong! How many times was he going to dance with the devil and get away with it? Some people hadn’t been so lucky: as Jack stared up into heaven, a few familiar faces came back to him, faces that he hadn’t seen for a very long time and would never see in the flesh again: Stanislav Svoboda… Fernando Gonzalez… members from K.O like Luke McQueen and Brain… They were gone. Gone forever. But they wouldn’t be forgotten. As Jack looked back on all this, he wouldn’t have been surprised if every single person in the world were to say that this must have been the worst year of his life. But they were wrong. They didn’t know him like he did. There’d been rough patches, admittedly, and Jack could have definitely done without the experiences on the Juggernaut and in the Dead End arena. But like in a football match, it isn’t the match itself that matters most. It’s the result at the final whistle. And while so many times Jack had thought he would never live to see another year, here he was and midnight was just seconds away. Against all the odds, he’d survived to tell his tale. “Three… Two… One…” Midnight! No sooner had the clock struck twelve, the fireworks were released. They shot up into the air like rockets, spiralling in the darkness before exploding into bursts of bright colour: reds, blues, greens… the sparks then tumbling back down to earth like shooting stars. Beside him, Jessica gasped and squeezed his hand tighter. Jack smiled and put his lips to her ear. “Not scared, are you?” he teased. “With Jack Knight – saviour of the world – beside me?” she laughed. “Who would be?” Jack laughed back and in that moment, he truly realised that this was all he’d ever wanted: just to be with his friends and family, having fun and enjoying life. His career at MI6 had taken over much of his time and, because of that, he’d never had the chance to live a real life. It had been Mr Grey that had controlled his life. Not his teenage self. But not anymore. All that had changed. He’d broken free from the shackles of his past. And he was glad of it. Jack kissed Jessica once more then they both turned and looked up into the night sky, watching as the fireworks performed cartwheels of delight right in front of their very eyes. He smiled. The start of a new year. The start of a new life. And Jack had never been happier. EpilogueThe Last WordMr Grey put the phone down and closed his eyes. Sitting behind his traditional mahogany desk with the door to his office closed and the windows firmly shut, the huge annual fireworks display taking place not one mile away by the London Eye could scarcely be heard. The design of the building was almost entirely responsible for this: as one of the most important and top-secret establishments in the whole country, the MI6 Headquarters had certainly been built with security and privacy in mind. Soundproof walls were just one of a long list of features which Mr Grey had approved of personally before its official opening in 1994. In truth, he preferred it this way. He hated shouting and loud noises. It smacked of unruliness and chaos – neither of which were good things. Silence was much better, he found: it allowed him to clear his mind and think. And right now, he had a lot of thinking to do. Mr Grey rested his elbows on the desk and placed his chin on top of his hands in a position of deep thought. Having been Head of MI6 for the past two decades, he was a man that was used to getting his own way. But this afternoon hadn’t turned out at all as he’d planned. Not in the slightest. That was why he’d just made the phone call. He needed someone to talk to. To decide on the next course of action. In preparation for his visitor’s arrival, Mr Grey reached under his desk and pulled out a single file – the same one that he had studied and presented that very afternoon. In bold letters the colour of blood, a name had been printed across its front: Jack Knight. It was one of the most highly-classified stories in the history of the Ministry of Defence… and, if today was anything to go by, it had finally reached its conclusion. Mr Grey sighed - whether with irritation or acceptance he couldn’t be sure – and laid the file carefully down on the desk in front of him. Then he placed a red ink pen directly beside it so that it was perfectly parallel with the edge of the document. In Mr Grey’s world, everything had to be precise, methodical and faultless. After the afternoon’s failures, he was intending to rectify that. Not many people knew it, (and by looking at him, even fewer people would suspect it), but Mr Grey was one of the most powerful men in the whole government; regularly, the Prime Minister made a decision based on his word, especially if it concerned foreign conflict and relations. And with that great power came a great deal of responsibility. Order needed to be restored. The door opened and Bradley Lancaster walked in. “You called, sir?” The chief senior agent looked tired and Mr Grey wasn’t surprised; the clock had just struck midnight and Lancaster had spent the whole day organising paperwork in conclusion to the Massacre Chain mission – in a few days, the case would be closed altogether. Not only that, but Lancaster was getting old now too. He’d reached his forties and that, by a secret agent’s standard, was practically ancient. Lancaster was a first-rate agent as Mr Grey had always stressed. The Head of MI6 had never seen a man with such an accurate shot. But now it seemed as though his age was finally beginning to catch up with him. “Yes, I did.” He nodded at the chair across from him, just as he’d done with Jack mere hours before. “Please, Bradley. Take a seat. This may take a while.” Frowning, Lancaster sat down. He’d known straightaway that something was up – why else would Mr Grey contact him at this time of night? But now it seemed to be worse than he’d first feared. “What’s the problem, sir?” “Not what, Bradley: who. Who is the problem?” Mr Grey took the document in one hand and passed it across to his colleague. “Him.” He nodded down at the name on the front. “This is who this is all about.” Lancaster read the name: Jack Knight. He should have known. In all his time at MI6, he’d never seen or worked with a junior agent quite like him. “What about him, sir?” he asked. And then he remembered; Mr Grey had mentioned it to him last week, soon after arriving back from Hong Kong. “He’s decided he doesn’t want to join the Senior Section.” Mr Grey nodded solemnly. “We need him, Brad. More than any other agent.” “There are others.” “Not like him there aren’t.” Mr Grey stared at Lancaster. “You’ve worked with him, Brad. Not once, but several times. Look me in the eye right now and tell me that he isn’t something special.” Lancaster had been trained never to show any emotion when under pressure, but Mr Grey’s gaze was so cold, so fixed that he found his defences crumbling. He nodded. “He’s a unique talent, I’ll give him that,” he said. “Certainly, we would never have managed to bring down K.O – or Torpedo for that matter – if it wasn’t for him.” “Exactly. Now do you see my point?” Mr Grey stood up from his chair and paced over to the window, feeling restless. He looked out into the night sky of another morning and, for a few moments, brilliant flashes of multi-coloured light reflected off his rimmed spectacles. Personally, he’d never seen the big fuss about New Year’s Day. Often he was so busy with his work that every year just seemed to roll into one. And what exactly were they celebrating anyway? Another year of massive unemployment, a worsening economy and huge wars and uprisings in the Middle East? Triple murders every other day and another phone-hacking scandal that was sure to rumble on for the next few months at least? Mr Grey shook his head with contempt and drew the blind. The world really was in a huge mess. A Mount Everest-sized mess. And that was why they needed spies like Jack Knight more than ever – to try and restore peace and order to the earth once more. For while there was still trouble in the world, MI6’s job would never be complete. “James has already retired from field operations and no doubt in a few years you’ll be joining him, Brad,” Mr Grey said, turning his back on the window. “For whatever reason, the career of a secret agent is never particularly long. The old guard is moving on and we need new faces to replace you, to keep the cycle of life flowing, to keep the criminals of this world on their toes. I very much hope that, one day, Jack Knight will be part of that.” “But he said-” “I am well aware of what he said, Brad,” Mr Grey replied calmly. “But we need him. I’m afraid there’s no other way around it.” “What about Javier Gonzalez? As I understand it, he’s joining the Senior Section… just like his late father. He worked with Jack for much of his junior career. He’s a good agent, is he not?” Mr Grey stroked his chin, deep in thought. “And how about that Ella girl?” Lancaster suggested. “She showed a lot of promise in this last mission.” “Promise is not the same as quality, Brad. Jack has already proven himself many a time at this level of work, each time passing with flying colours. His record is impeccable; his usefulness to us unlimited.” “Then what do you intend to do?” Mr Grey sat back down in his chair and then, quite suddenly, Lancaster noticed a familiar gleam in the cold, emotionless pupils. “I suppose, in a way, we might not have to do anything,” Mr Grey said broodingly. “The boy has a habit for this kind of thing. As I’ve said many a time, being a spy is simply in his genes. Danger will find him even if he chooses not to pursue it. And then his natural instinct to help others will guide him straight back into our world. That’s when we move in. That’s when we make sure he knows whose side he is on.” “And if nothing happens?” Lancaster asked. “If danger decides to take pity on him?” Mr Grey smiled his usual smile – the one he always used if he had something smart to say. “Then I’m sure we’ll manage to persuade him one way or another.” Lancaster’s jaw tensed. “Blackmail?” Mr Grey nodded. “If it comes to it. You’ve already mentioned that Mr Gonzalez and Miss Fox are good friends with Jack. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to convince them into altering his decision.” “But, sir? He’s still only a teenager! What about his right of free will?” “We’ve got no other choice, Brad.” Mr Grey sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes with both hands. Suddenly he was very tired and just wanted to get the business over with. He never liked dwelling on a situation, but this one was of the upmost importance. Hundreds of lives could possibly hinge on it. Mr Grey sometimes wondered whether he was getting too old for this job - if Lancaster was old, what did that make him? He could think of very few more stressful positions in the whole world. At least the Prime Minister had hundreds of advisors to consult before making a decision. As Head of MI6, everything came down to him and that resulted in a pressure equivalent of the sky constantly weighing down on his shoulders. Fighting crime – it was no country for old men. But for all the younger agents, there always needed to be an experienced head to guide them through their career. And that was why Mr Grey knew he would never leave the organisation. Not unless the time came when he was driven out by natural forces. “Jack Knight is the best secret weapon that the organisation’s had in decades. We can’t let him slip through our grasp, not when there are so many missions in the pipeline, not when we need him so badly. Sometimes in my job, Brad, you need to make difficult choices. This isn’t one of them. For me, it is a no-brainer. Sometimes in my job, you need to take risks in order to help the greater good. This is a risk. Make no mistake about that. If anyone other than you or I learns of this conversation, I’ll be outside on the street in a heartbeat. “But it is a risk that is worth taking. After all, what is one normal life lost compared to millions saved?” “Sir, if I may?” But Mr Grey held up a hand and it had the effect of flicking off a switch inside Lancaster’s voice box. The man was silenced. “I will wait until Jack has finished his course at university,” Mr Grey said instead. “As I understand it, his mother is most determined for him to go there. Then, after that, we will make our move. In the meantime, I suppose we’ll just have to make do – give some of the junior agents a chance to prove their worth. A few years of his absence won’t hurt us too badly.” Mr Grey leaned back in his chair and smiled. “After all, he deserves a break.” “Sir? Are you absolutely sure about this? If the PM found out… the whole organisation could be closed down.” Mr Grey nodded – he’d never been so sure of something in his life. “Jack will work for MI6 again,” he said. “I will have the last word.” Lancaster stood up and nodded curtly. There was nothing more to be said. “Goodbye, sir,” he mumbled then promptly left the room, closing the door behind him and already planning how he would spend the morning with his wife and new-born child. Mr Grey would never have that problem. Mr Grey had never had friends while his late parents would have been lucky if they’d got ten words out of him per day. Even after leaving for Oxford University, he rarely spoke except when asking questions. In short, he’d always been just as unsocial, unpopular and dreary as he was now. But he didn’t care. He preferred to be alone. It meant that he was always the one in full control. It was now getting very late, but still there was work to do; Mr Grey never left his office until everything had been completed beforehand. Life was much more organised that way. A slim document had been left in his inbox tray earlier on by Miss Woodham regarding an upcoming mission. Mr Grey had been so focused on his immediate priorities that he hadn’t had a chance to look at it. Now he took it out, placed it on the desk and opened it up: a suspected plot to disrupt the 2012 London Olympic Games, coordinated by a group of foreigners angry that their own host nations had lost out in the vote. Mr Grey sighed: why wasn’t he surprised? Within minutes he’d read the mission brief and was already considering which agent to send – which agent would excel most in the designated scenario. Mr Grey tapped on the desk and his fingers brushed the cover of the first file, still lying out open to the side of him. Mr Grey looked at it without emotion and, for the last time – at least for a good while - his eyes studied the photograph of the handsome, athletic teenager attached to the inside. He allowed himself the smallest of smiles. “We’ll meet again, Jack Knight,” Mr Grey said. “I know we will.” Then he closed the document, filed it back in its correct place then returned once more to the mission in hand. And as he studied the complicated briefing in front of him, simultaneously considering and analysing several different strategies through his head, Jack Knight was already out of his mind. ................
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