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They did as he said, stepping into the darkness of the corridors on the floor below the apartment. They crept up the stairs with Jimmy leading the way.
“This is genius, Jimmy,” whispered Felix. “Maybe we can pretend we never even left.”
Jimmy held up a hand to tell him to be quiet and peered round the corner at the top of the stairs. The corridor was dark, but he could see the light from the door of the living room, where he reasoned his mum would be waiting, listening for the lift. He was about to signal for his friends to creep back to their rooms, but the sound of voices stopped him.
He moved quickly and silently into the corridor, the carpet cushioning his steps. But instead of turning left towards where he was meant to be asleep, he dashed to the right and pushed his back up against the wall outside the living room. The door was slightly ajar, and from his position Jimmy had a perfect view through the crack at the hinges.
“What are we doing?” Felix whispered, his hot breath exploding into Jimmy’s ear.
Jimmy whipped round and planted a hand over his friend’s mouth. He held it there until he felt Felix’s body relax and signalled that he was listening. In turn, Felix turned to Georgie behind him and pressed a finger to his lips. Georgie rolled her eyes and mouthed a sarcastic, ‘Oh really!?’
Jimmy’s eyes adjusted quickly to the bright light coming through the crack in the door. He could see the back of his mum’s head. She was sitting on the sofa in her dressing gown. But she wasn’t alone. To Jimmy’s surprise, Christopher Viggo was in the corner of the room, gripping the neck of an open champagne bottle in his fist.
“I told you,” said Jimmy’s mum, the frustration in her voice obvious, “you don’t need to wait with me.”
“I saw the light was on and I was worried,” Viggo replied. “That’s all.” His voice was deep, but slightly hoarse.
“You’ve been making too many speeches,” replied Helen Coates. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, and Jimmy could see her head subtly following the movement of the champagne bottle. “You should rest your voice.”
“Don’t worry. It’s nearly over.” Viggo ran a hand across his stubbled chin and pushed some stray strands of hair behind his ear. “Or it’s just beginning, depending on how you look at it.” There was a glint in his eye, a brown twinkle in the soft lighting. He stood fully upright, a tall man dominating the small space. The lack of any furniture apart from the sofa made him seem even more imposing. His lips were set in a flat smile.
“You need some sleep,” said Helen, pulling her dressing gown around her against the cool of the air-conditioning. “No point working through the night when you need to look fresh for tomorrow.”
“You need sleep too,” he said softly. “Is Saffron in bed?” His eyes flicked across the room, sending a shiver through Jimmy, but he was confident he couldn’t be seen.
Jimmy quickly glanced up the corridor towards the room that Viggo shared with Saffron Walden, his girlfriend. The door was closed, with no light coming through the cracks.
“What are they saying?” Felix whispered suddenly. “I can’t hear them.”
Jimmy reluctantly shuffled over slightly to give his friend a view through the door crack. Meanwhile, Georgie was less and less interested.
“This is stupid,” she whispered. “I’m going to bed. Tell me what happened in the morning.”
Just as she turned towards her bedroom, Jimmy reached out and caught her arm, then pulled her towards him until his mouth was right by her ear.
“Thanks for coming after me,” he said softly.
Georgie simply nodded and threw a smile back up the corridor as she walked away. The voice of Jimmy’s mother pulled him back to the crack in the living-room door.
“Either get back to work or go to bed,” Helen said to Viggo. “The kids will be here soon.”
“How do you know?” Viggo was confused. “Where have they been? It’s the small hours of the morning!”
“Do you care?” Helen snapped, suddenly fixing Viggo with a stare. All Viggo could do was hold up his hands in defence, letting the champagne bottle swing from his fingertips. “I checked with the guards,” Helen went on. “The three of them left a couple of hours ago. There was nobody with them. Now put that bottle down. You look ridiculous.”
“Celebrate with me,” Viggo said, almost pleading.
“You haven’t won the election yet.”
“But I will.” He smiled and every tooth seemed to gleam as brightly as his eyes.
“So what is there to celebrate tonight?” Helen stood up slowly and stepped towards Viggo. “The fact that we hardly speak to each other any more?”
“Stop this.” Viggo changed his tone, sounding more gentle than triumphant. He put the bottle on the floor and took Jimmy’s mother by her wrists. “We’re making history. I’m going to change the way this country is run. I know you want the same thing! So all this…” He hesitated and brought Helen’s hands together in his. “…it’s all going to be worth it.”
Helen Coates turned away and for the first time Jimmy could see the emotion weighing heavy on her face. Her short brown hair cast a net of shadows that seemed to accentuate the worry lines round her eyes.
“It seems like you’re worth quite a lot,” she whispered. “To somebody.”
“What do you mean?” Viggo asked, letting her go and stepping back.
“This building,” Helen explained. “All the staff downstairs. Your whole campaign. How much has it all cost? Even that.” She flicked a hand at the champagne bottle as if she wanted it to topple over. “How did you get hold of real French champagne? That’s almost impossible the way things are. Who’s providing all of this? Where’s the money coming from, Chris?”
Viggo turned his back on her and stared out of the window.
“It doesn’t matter how many times you ask me,” he grumbled, “I’m keeping my promise. I’ll tell you – of course I will. But not until I’ve won the election.”
“Why?” Helen raised her voice. “You’re driving everybody crazy! You have to trust us!”
“I do trust you.” Viggo’s voice was so low Jimmy could barely make out the words. “But it’s…”
“What? What is it? Dangerous?” Helen sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “Are you ashamed of it? Money that you’re ashamed of isn’t worth having, Chris.”
“Even if it means I can make the changes we’ve all hoped for? If I don’t win this election tomorrow, NJ7 will be more powerful than ever. The Government will never let anybody vote again. They’ll lock up or kill anybody that speaks out against them and the whole of Britain will be like one giant prison! Tomorrow is everything, Helen.” He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes, desperate to get his message across. “We might never have a second chance to bring down this Government peacefully. And if that takes money then I don’t care where the money comes from, I’m going to use it.”
Jimmy pressed his face closer against the crack in the door. Felix was crouching below him doing the same. In the last few months they’d talked many times about where all the money had come from to fund Viggo’s campaign. Jimmy had even tried to ask Viggo about it, but Viggo always seemed distracted at just the wrong moment. Jimmy and Viggo had hardly had a proper conversation for months. It didn’t sound like his mum was having any more luck.
“I didn’t come up here to argue,” Viggo said gently. He started towards the door, so Jimmy jumped to one side, dragging Felix with him.
“We’re finished now, Jimmy,” Helen called out. “You can come in. You too, Felix.”
Jimmy and Felix looked at each other, the deep shadows not enough to hide the shock on their faces. That moment, Viggo charged out into the corridor. He turned towards the lifts without even glancing at Jimmy and Felix.
“She’s waiting for you,” he grunted, before disappearing into the lift.
Jimmy and Felix edged into the living room.
“How did you…?” Jimmy gasped.
“Don’t be surprised,” his mother replied. “I was trained by NJ7 once too. And even though you were so quiet out there…”
Jimmy dropped his head, embarrassed at the obvious sarcasm in his mum’s voice.
“Sorry, Mum, we…” Jimmy’s voice trailed off.
“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” said his mum.
Jimmy felt so stupid, and wished his programming could give him some way of dealing with the situation. His hands automatically went deep into his pockets. So far, his fingers were the most obvious sign of his poisoning, and he’d grown used to hiding them. This time, however, he was more aware of them than usual. His friends had found out his secret and there was a part of him that felt relieved. Was this the moment to explain everything to his mum? He wasn’t sure how he could do it. He wasn’t even sure of the facts himself – at times he felt fine, but at times he was convinced he was getting worse and it terrified him.
“Everything OK?” It was Saffron Walden. She’d appeared at the door, wrapped in a full-length black dressing gown. Jimmy turned to look at her, amazed that she could seem so poised and so beautiful when she’d obviously just been woken up in the middle of the night.
“Just Chris being weird again,” said Felix quickly.
“And these two running off to who-knows-where,” Helen added.
Saffron nodded slowly.
“Chris being weird isn’t news to me,” she said softly. Her voice seemed as smooth as her skin, and had some of the same darkness.
“Do you think we should, erm, keep him under surveillance?” said Felix quickly.
Jimmy smiled. He was always impressed by Felix’s ability to distract attention from anything that could get him into trouble – and as long as they were talking about Viggo, they couldn’t talk about Jimmy, Felix and Georgie sneaking off together.
“I know he has a lot on his mind,” Jimmy joined in, “but he’s kept so many secrets from us. He hardly talks to us any more.”
Saffron and Helen looked at each other, but Jimmy couldn’t read their expressions.
“It’s the money that worries me,” admitted Saffron. “You might be right, Felix. We might need to keep an eye on him – for his own safety. I don’t know how well we can trust his campaign staff or even his security guards. Everybody was hired in such a hurry.”
“We’ve come this far without any problems,” said Helen, now eyeing up Jimmy and Felix, as if to tell them she hadn’t forgotten they were in trouble. But so far, Jimmy thought, Felix’s distraction technique was working. They hadn’t been sent straight to bed yet.
“But with the election so close…” said Saffron softly. “This is when it counts. If he loses—”
“He won’t lose,” Felix cut in. “How can he? Everybody knows this Government is evil. They tried to go to war with France, and they haven’t let anybody vote about anything until now.”
“But if he does lose,” Saffron went on, “I doubt many of his so-called supporters will stick by him. And if he wins it could be worse. We’ll find out how many of them have been using him for their own power.”
There was genuine concern on her face. It was obvious to Jimmy that she still cared deeply about Viggo, despite his erratic behaviour since his campaign had become official. The man had worked against the Government in secret for so long, thought Jimmy. Maybe he just wasn’t used to being allowed to do it in public. Maybe sometimes secrets could protect you.
Jimmy felt his fingers tingling. He knew it wasn’t his programming, or even the radiation poisoning. It was his mind churning, unsure whether to show his mum.While he was deep in his thoughts, Saffron said goodnight and went back to bed. Now Jimmy looked at Felix. To Jimmy’s relief, his friend saw the uncertainty on his face and immediately understood what to do.
“OK, bye then,” said Felix brightly. “I need my beauty sleep, you know.” He tilted his head and patted his hair, as if he was some kind of supermodel, then hurried out of the room. Jimmy couldn’t help smiling, despite the dread in his heart.
“You too, Jimmy,” said his mum.
Jimmy didn’t move, but he couldn’t say anything either. It was several seconds before he forced his arm muscles to pull his hands from his pockets.
“What’s this?” asked his mum, taking his hands and turning them over to examine them.
“Mum,” choked Jimmy, “I have to explain where I went tonight, and why and…” He paused, staring at the floor, knowing that if he looked at his mother’s face he might not be able to stop himself crying. “…and I have to tell you what’s happening to me.”
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The White House seemed to glow in the late-afternoon sun. The perfectly neat lines of its construction were broken by the flashes of red and blue coming from the dozens of Stars and Stripes flags that flapped wildly. In the centre of it all was Colonel Keays.
His medals glinted off his navy uniform. He was a stocky man of about sixty, but today, with his chin high and triumph in his eyes, he looked a little younger. The seal of the President of the United States was emblazoned on the lectern in front of him. It may as well have been on the man’s chest.
“…I am greatly humbled by the honour the people of this great nation have thrust upon me,” he was saying. His words boomed over the public address system. The gathered crowd listened obediently, smiles fixed. The whole occasion was perfectly stage-managed. Even the few thin hairs left on top of Colonel Keays’ head were greased flat so they wouldn’t misbehave.
“…and I promise to you all that the country will be made even greater by my efforts, within our own boundaries and beyond. For example, while our cousins in the United Kingdom struggle through their own election, I pledge to help them in their first steps towards real democracy, whatever the outcome of their vote.”
He puffed up his chest and stretched his shoulders, appearing even more broad than usual. Behind him, the marching band was given their cue. They lifted their instruments, light shimmering across the crowd as the sun reflected off the brass.
“I have already extended the hand of friendship to the British,” Keays went on, “and will continue to do so in countries around the world. We must never waver in our determination to extend our influence across the globe. This is the greatest nation on Earth.” There was a small ‘hurrah’ from the crowd. “And I pledge to you now that as President I see our future as the greatest nation the human race has ever seen.” Another cheer, slightly louder, just as well orchestrated. “God bless America!”
Finally the crowd was allowed to give full-bodied applause. The carefully positioned Secret Service staff made sure it lasted just the right amount of time, never dropping below a spirited level, but remaining civilised.
The brass band struck up a lilting chorus of ‘Hail to the Chief’ and dozens of government staff lined up for Keays to grip each hand in turn and grin into the nearby TV cameras.
At the end of the line, the cameras were escorted away and a team of aides bustled around Keays.
“Congratulations, Colonel,” whispered one, as they marched into the shadows, away from the crowds.
“I’m no longer a colonel,” Keays barked immediately. “I’m now Commander-in-Chief. You’ll address me as ‘Mr President’.”
“Yes, Mr President.” The aide was so embarrassed he almost bowed.
“Any news from Britain?”
“Not yet, Mr President. Still a few hours to go. But Operation Blackout is in play.”
President Keays let out a stabbing laugh that echoed off the colonnades, then he led his staff quickly away through the doors of the White House.
Eva felt her eye muscles twitching. She’d gone through the whole night without sleep, but so had most of the staff of NJ7, she realised. She guessed that outside the labyrinth of NJ7 HQ the sun was probably rising, but down here in the tunnels there was no difference between night and day.
She stared at her notebook, watching her pencil move across the page automatically, barely able to focus on what Miss Bennett was saying. Instead, all Eva could see were the faces from an old photograph. Not only was she exhausted, but every time Miss Bennett looked at her she imagined the woman could see straight through to her back pocket, to the scanned copy of a tattered snapshot of a dozen old scientists.
Three of them already had bold black crosses over their faces. Those three could be no help to Jimmy now. The records of their deaths had been relatively simple to find, though Eva had been shocked to discover how easy it had been for NJ7 to assassinate their own staff. Now she had to fight to force the image from her mind.
“Eva, are you bored?” Miss Bennett’s voice was cool and steady. She slipped so effortlessly from dictating notes to barbed comments that Eva almost scribbled down ‘are you bored’ before she realised what Miss Bennett meant.
“Bored? No, of course not,” said Eva in a hurry. “Sorry.” She looked up from her notebook to see a compact smile on Miss Bennett’s lips – a bright red flash across the middle of her pale face, like a ‘no entry’ sign in negative. The Director of NJ7 was leaning against her desk, her long legs crossed casually in front of her. Her brown hair was, as always, immaculate, and with a glossy sheen that made it look almost unreal. She was dressed in a sharp black business suit, with a black shirt. How did she look so smart, Eva wondered, when she’s also been up for almost 36 hours without sleeping?
“Good. Then we’re done for now,” said Miss Bennett, gliding across her office to make her way out. “No need to read anything back to me. You can deal with it all in the car on the way to the airport.”
“Airport?” Eva could feel the tiredness enveloping her mind.
“Are you under the impression that the final word of anything I say needs translating into gibberish?”
Eva froze in Miss Bennett’s glare.
“Er, no, Miss Bennett.”
“Then let’s get on with the day, shall we?”
Eva hurried after her boss, mentally kicking herself – until now she’d completely forgotten that the first item on her schedule for that day was accompanying Miss Bennett to Heathrow. She longed to run as far away from NJ7 as possible. Every hour now felt like the prelude to her execution.
“This is going to be very delicate,” Miss Bennett explained as they walked briskly through the NJ7 complex. “The United Nations inspection team hasn’t been making enough noise.”
