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The woman shuddered slightly and her eyes jumped to her customer’s face. Zafi pouted. “Of course,” said the woman, nervously fingering the gold chains round her neck. She lifted the coin tray in the till and pulled out a selection of half a dozen airline tickets. Her hands were trembling as she fanned them on the desk.
“Get them out of sight,” Zafi snapped.
The woman gasped and shoved her hands back in the till.
“Is this Icelandic wool?” Zafi asked loudly, feeling the pashmina between her thumb and fingers. The woman took another corner of the scarf and felt it the same way.
“It’s the finest quality,” she announced.
“But too expensive for me,” Zafi replied and swept out of the shop. In her hand was the ticket that the woman had passed her under the scarf. It was a small charter flight, destination: Reykjavik, Iceland. The passenger name was ‘Glenthornia Mitchell’.
06 SUSPICION (#ulink_a53024cc-1170-5f26-b5f6-26d3cedf4727)
Colonel Keays was shaped like a box and his chest was a tapestry of medals, with ribbons in every different colour against the dark blue material of his uniform. He stood tall and proud, with his chin slightly raised and his cap under his arm. The stark light of the room reflected off the parts of his head where the hair was at its thinnest.
He looked over the three people standing in front of him and for a long time there was silence. Georgie and Felix stood on either side of Georgie’s mum, shifting from foot to foot. Helen Coates herself seemed completely relaxed, staring straight back at Keays.
A small team of CIA agents had brought them deep into the basement of Sak’s Fifth Avenue Department Store. But the ornate interior of the shop floor was a world away. They had found themselves surrounded by the stormy grey of completely bare concrete walls, facing the US Director of Intelligence, while three other agents waited outside.
For no apparent reason, Keays snorted a short laugh, though he wasn’t smiling. “I’m glad we found you first,” he announced. “The streets were still crawling with NJ7 agents when my men picked you up. But don’t worry; this is America. Miss Bennett knows she can’t do anything here unless I give her the OK.”
“You know Miss Bennett?” Felix blurted.
“Of course. Intelligence agencies all over the world have to talk to each other, don’t we? Especially countries like Britain and America. Countries that used to be close.” He paused and looked at them hard. “It’s a shame we’re not so close any more.”
“A shame for who?” Helen muttered.
“Ha!” Keays laughed properly this time. “You tell me—do British people like not being allowed to buyAmerican products?”
“Do American companies like not being allowed to sell them?” Helen’s voice was soft yet full of confidence.
“We used to protect you,” Keays insisted.
“We used to fight your wars,” said Helen. “Times change.”
“And so do people,” Keays replied quickly. “I understand you used to work for NJ7 yourself, Mrs Coates?”
Helen nodded slowly. “I…retired.”
“And yet your husband appears to have been promoted.”
Helen dropped her chin to her chest and Felix noticed her fingers automatically twisting her wedding ring. “Please,” she began, her voice cracking slightly for the first time, “just tell me what happened to Jimmy.”
“You should be very proud, Mrs Coates.” Keays spoke quietly and quickly. “Your son is a remarkably intelligent young man, quite apart from his unique skills. Yes, he’s alive. He wanted me to make sure you knew that, even though it could jeopardise the safety of all of you. As long as Miss Bennett is sure that Jimmy is dead, you’ll be safe.”
Huge smiles burst out on the faces of his visitors. Helen breathed a massive sigh of relief and gripped Georgie’s hand.
“Not so tight,” Georgie whispered, but she didn’t really mind. She looked across and beamed at Felix, who was almost bouncing on the spot with delight.
“Thank you, Colonel,” said Helen.
Suddenly, Felix’s mood changed. “What about the safehouse?” he asked. “Not very safe, was it? It was rubbish.” He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. “You don’t even care, do you? They took my…” He didn’t finish his sentence. “You were meant to be protecting us.”
“He’s right,” Helen jumped in. “Felix could have expressed it a little more politely,” she gave him a quick glare, “but we do have to know what’s going on. If the CIA spends so much time talking to NJ7, is it possible one of your agents was talking about something they shouldn’t have been?”
Keays exploded with another short, sharp laugh. It echoed round the room. “Ha! A leak!” He shook his head quickly. “Impossible. I’ve got to tell you, Felix,” he stared into the boy’s eyes, “I don’t blame you for being mad. It makes me mad too, and I’m not the one whose parents are being held by NJ7 right now. To be honest, I don’t even know what they plan to do with them. They can’t use them against Jimmy, because as far as they know Jimmy is dead. Maybe it’s a kind of insurance. I don’t know. But it’s something I’d like to find out.”
Felix was about to jump in with another question, but Keays cut him off. “And no, I have no idea how the security of the safehouse was breached. I have people looking into it right now. But one thing is for sure—double agents don’t exist any more. There is nobody in the CIA leaking classified information to NJ7. It’s a tactic that’s just too messy. The Russians demonstrated that for everybody back in the Cold War. It’s more likely to be from electronic espionage, or from one of their operatives working on American soil. We’ll have to tighten up our systems, that’s all.”
The colonel winked and it sent a shudder down Felix’s spine. He had the urge to spit, but managed to stop himself. Instead, he gave a deliberately over-the-top smile and a huge wink of his own.
“There’s good news as well, though,” Keays went on.
“Are you sending us back to the UK?” Helen asked, her voice sombre.
Keays nodded.
“What?” said Georgie and Felix together.
“I thought you would,” said Helen. “It’s for the best. We can look for Felix’s parents.” She ruffled his hair into an even more chaotic state than it was normally. “And find Chris too.” Her smile dissolved.
“Jimmy did what he did so that the rest of you wouldn’t have to be on the run for the rest of your lives,” Keays explained. “Realistically, we’d never be able to hide you as a family. It’s much harder than hiding just one person and NJ7 have the best resources in the world. They’d find you.”
“But now they think Jimmy’s dead,” said Georgie, “we have to go back to Britain?”
“Right.” Keays clapped his hands together. He sounded far too cheerful. “It’s time to go home!”
“Won’t Miss Bennett try to kill us again?”
“Ha! Don’t worry. She’s got no reason to hurt you now. And anyway, I can talk to her. I’ll sort everything out and you can be on a plane home by this afternoon.”
“What will you tell her?” Georgie asked.
“Don’t worry about it. You guys will be fully briefed and have a complete cover story. It’ll probably be something like this: you were all arrested for being in the US illegally. The authorities here obviously want to send you back to Britain, but I have to check with Miss Bennett whether you’re going to be in danger if that goes ahead. We’re not allowed to send people back home to be killed. If I know Miss Bennett at all, she’ll jump at this. She’d much rather have you under her nose where she can watch you, than see you thrown in prison over here.”
“Thrown in prison?” Georgie gasped.
“You wouldn’t really be, understand,” Keays quickly reassured her. “That’s just what Miss Bennett will think.”
Georgie nodded slowly. She was still far from certain that she should trust this man and she hated that he was so light-hearted. “Mum,” she said, trying to hold back tears.
“What’s the matter?” asked Helen, crouching down to take her daughter’s face in her hands. Georgie shivered at her touch.
“Don’t you know?” Georgie’s voice was unsteady and full of anger. Her mother just looked at her in astonishment, eyes wide. “How can you go ahead with this as if everything’s great? It’s never going to go back to normal, is it?”
“It won’t be normal exactly,” Helen said softly, “but we’ll get by. This is the only way. We’ll be able to have a life again.”
“Yeah,” scoffed Georgie. “Some life—with Dad running the country now as some kind of dictator. I suppose that’s OK, isn’t it?” Her voice was growing more and more sarcastic, and tears brimmed in her eyes. “And how can you act like it’s OK that we’re never going to see Jimmy again?”
Helen pulled her daughter towards her, but Georgie held back.
“We will see him again,” Helen insisted. “It might not be for a long time, but we will see him. One day we’ll all be back together. For the time being, isn’t it better that we’re alive and safe? Isn’t that better than running across the world with NJ7 trying to kill us every second of the day? That’s why Jimmy did this. He did it so we could stop running. You need to be back at school, getting on with your life, spending time with your friends…We need to go home.”
Georgie wiped her eyes. “How will it be home without Jimmy? And without Dad?”
“We have to try.”
“You don’t even remember,” Georgie mumbled.
“Remember what?”
Georgie stared at her mother for a long time, her face full of bitterness. Then she looked past her, to Felix.
After a long pause, Felix’s face lit up. “Oh my God!” he gasped. “You mean his birthday, right?”
Georgie nodded. “It’s next week.”
Helen stood up and ran her hands through her hair. “Is it nearly April already?” she whispered. “I guess with everything else I didn’t notice the date.”
“I haven’t got him a present,” Felix blurted out.
“Of course you haven’t,” said Georgie. “When have we had time for shopping?”
“Yeah, but, you know, a birthday’s a birthday, even if you are on the run from the Secret Service. You know what? I think they should have some kind of rule that nobody is allowed to try to kill you on your birthday.” Georgie rolled her eyes. Once Felix got started, there was no point trying to stop him. “And if you do try to kill someone on their birthday, they should be allowed to keep all your presents when it’s your birthday. And your cards. No wait, you can keep your cards. Nobody wants cards anyway. So just the presents.”
“You’re a nutcase,” Georgie mumbled—but a smile had crept on to her face. Felix was bursting with energy again and bouncing on the spot.
He turned to Colonel Keays. “Can we send Jimmy a card?” he asked suddenly. “It can be secret. Nobody has to know about it but us. And Jimmy, obviously. And you can give it to him. You can, can’t you?”
Colonel Keays was taken aback. “Jimmy’s deep in hiding,” he mumbled. “A team of agents is making sure nobody knows who he is. He’s officially dead.”
“But he can still have a birthday, can’t he?”
Keays shook his head in wonder and let out a deep chuckle. “Jimmy’s lucky to have a friend like you,” he announced, “and a sister who loves him as much as you do, Georgie.” He paused to think for a second, then went on, “I don’t think we should start sending cards to people who are meant to be dead. It’s not good to have anything identifiable lying around that might give the game away to NJ7. But how about you write Jimmy a message? Don’t sign though. Don’t even write his name on it. I’ll make sure Jimmy gets it.”
He pulled out a notepad and a pencil from his inside pocket.
“Wicked,” Felix beamed. “I’m going to write him the funniest birthday message ever.”
“Wait,” said Georgie, “I’ll give you a hand.” She moved towards Felix, but her eyes were studying Colonel Keays. “Let’s write it together.” She took the pencil and a sheet of paper from Keays. “Colonel Keays,” she said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you help us escape from Britain in the first place, if you were just going to send us back?”
“I’m sending you back now that it’s safe,” Keays explained, his expression completely blank.
“You mean, now that we don’t have Jimmy—and you do?”
Keays didn’t move. His eyes locked on to Georgie’s. “Write your message,” he said, pushing the paper into Georgie’s hand. “And have a good flight home.”
Georgie and Felix huddled over the sheet of paper in a corner of the room.
“Thank you, Colonel,” said Helen. “I know they seem…ungrateful, but your help means a lot to us.”
Keays nodded silently. Then Georgie spun round, waving the paper above her head.
“OK, we’re done. Do you want to add something, Mum?” She thrust the paper into her mother’s hand. Helen examined it as if she’d never seen a page of writing before. Her whole body seemed to freeze. Georgie held out the pencil, but noticed that her mum’s lips were trembling.
“It’s OK,” said Georgie, “I’ll put ‘love from Mum’ or something at the bottom.” She pulled the pencil back towards her. Helen Coates turned away, wiping her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” said Keays. “Your son did the right thing. It’s better this way. For everyone. Jimmy is going to be fine. You have my promise.”
“Where is he now?” Helen whispered.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Where is he?” Helen insisted. “I need to know where my son is.”
“At this moment, Jimmy is absolutely fine.” Keays took the note from Georgie, folded it carefully and slipped it into his pocket. “I absolutely guarantee it. Jimmy is happy and Jimmy is safe.”
07 SUSHI FOR ONE (#ulink_c3a0f2e9-a60d-5f05-8be3-1e0ea5db7adf)
Jimmy’s legs hit the water and his whole body pitched forwards. Huge waves lifted him up, then sucked him down again. With incredible force he was pulled under the surface. His breathing was so fast he was afraid his heart might stop. But he wasn’t panicking. He unclipped his parachute and kicked out with his legs, desperately trying to stop his whole body going numb. He could feel the cold scratching at his bones.
His programming surged through him, controlling his muscles. It would never let him give in to the cold or the water. He was at least two metres under the surface now. Salt water stung his eyes, but Jimmy kept them open. At last another of his amazing capabilities was kicking in: his in-built night-vision enhanced the light. The underwater world took on a rich, blue haze. Jimmy would have been lost without it. Now he was able to fight towards the surface.
The ocean churned with such force that Jimmy felt like he was a sock in a washing machine. He wanted to thrash his limbs. He wanted to panic, but his body wouldn’t let him. Instead, his arms and legs moved calmly, with a maximum of precision and efficiency. His assassin’s programming guided him back to the surface within thirty seconds.
His arms wrapped themselves over one of the largest fragments of the plane’s fuselage. The air trapped underneath it supported Jimmy’s weight. He flopped his chest on to it, clutching it as the waves threw him around like a shuttlecock.
Jimmy’s lower half still dangled in the water and he kept his legs moving in a vain fight against the cold. Every few seconds he wiped his eyes. Through the spray, he could see the carpet of flaming debris spread out across the water. Beyond that was a vast empty space, stretching out between him and the horizon. It was overwhelming. But only for a second—then a wave as strong as a wall jumped up to block his view.
There were thoughts racing through his head that sounded like an overheard conversation at the end of a crackling phone line. Hardly understanding it, he was reading the current. He hauled himself completely on to the makeshift raft, steadying himself on his hands and knees.
Gradually, he reached for more fragments of debris, building up a little shelter around him. Then he heaved on the parachute that was swelling in the waves. It took all his strength to gather it in, but eventually he dumped an armful of soaking black silk on to the metal in front of him. Still the wind and the waves buffeted Jimmy around. He had to grip the piece of the plane’s fuselage with his knees, while he went about ripping up the parachute.
Every few seconds, a part of him wanted to give up. His limbs were straining just to keep him from falling off his raft back into the water. But something inside him kept him going. Maybe it was programming or maybe it was his human hunger to stay alive. Eventually, he managed to tie half of his parachute across his raft, fastened on each side to a fragment of the aeroplane. He had a sail.
In a few minutes, the sea would consume almost every scrap of what remained of the plane. There’d be hardly any evidence that they’d ever gone down there. But what about the people on board? Was Jimmy the only survivor?
“Hello!?” he shouted. His voice was lost against the crash of the waves and the wind. “Anyone there!?” he screamed, pouring out every last crumb of energy. Tears mixed with the spray of the ocean. He clenched his fists and pounded his metal raft, cursing the forces inside him.
Maybe if his genetics hadn’t taken over from his common sense, the agents would have had a chance. But the assassin in Jimmy hadn’t wanted to be seen by NJ7. Jimmy’s programming had overcome his human protests. It had saved him, but at the others’ expense. It was driven by the most selfish instinct of an assassin: self-protection at all costs.
He could feel it inside him now. It purred while his human self longed to scream at the wind. I killed them, he thought. How could they possibly have survived the fall from a plane without an open parachute? They were trying to save me and I killed them. How could he have let his programming do it? The second his human instinct had given in, he had condemned two agents.
I won’t give in again, Jimmy told himself. You won’t control me. From now on, he insisted, he would do everything he could to make his programming serve his human intuition. I control me.
