Enemy Invasion (14 page)

“Sure you don’t want me to take the stick?” Craig asked, not sounding too certain as he looked over the array of unfamiliar control panels.

Sarah placed her hand on the joystick and the panels lit up around her. She felt the instant, easy connection with the on-board systems of the jet.
This machine was designed to be
thought-controlled,
she reminded herself.
And I was designed to fly it.

Jets, power up,
she thought and immediately the engines at the back of the plane roared into life. She gave Commander Craig a glance.

“I think I’ll manage.”

She put on the pilot’s headset. “
Ulysses
tower, this is stealth jet. Open Bay 3’s roof and raise us to the deck.”

There was no response. Sarah tried again.

“Tower, this is—”

Hydraulics squealed outside. The hangar roof split open. The jet juddered as the platform upon which it sat began to rise. Sarah was more than a little relieved. She’d anticipated having
to take control of at least one of the tower operatives in order to get the jet to the runway, but then there would be the problem of the deck crew getting in the way if they didn’t want her
taking off. Someone in the tower was helping out and suddenly she had a good idea who.

The jet cleared the ceiling of the hangar and the platform slotted into place with a
clunk
, forming part of the deck. Evening sunlight cast a golden glow over the wide expanse of the
aircraft carrier’s deck. Men and women in orange jumpsuits scurried around, preparing the area for take-off. One of the men ran to the front of the jet and held up a flashing signal beacon.
He waved it over his head to get Sarah’s attention and then pointed it towards the end of the ship, indicating where she should place the jet. Sarah manipulated the joystick and the plane
taxied towards take-off position.

In less than a minute she had the vehicle in the correct spot – nose pointed directly down the deck. The runway was a dark rectangle stretching ahead, high contrast against the reddish
gold sky on either side. Perfect flying conditions. The deck crew scrambled as they completed their final tasks and cleared the way ahead.

Sarah and the others sat in the cockpit, waiting for the final confirmation from the tower. Robert shifted nervously in the seat behind Commander Craig.

“What’s taking them so long? Perhaps we should just take off.”

“Calm down,” Sarah said.

Her headphones crackled as a message came through from the tower.

“Stealth jet, this is the tower. Deck crew is away. You’re cleared for take-off when ready.” Sarah smiled to hear Rachel Andersen’s voice. “But it’s not too
late to abort this mission. Nobody’s asking you to put your lives at risk here.”

Sarah looked at Robert sitting in the seat behind and gave him a reassuring nod. “We’re keeping a promise we made,” Sarah told Rachel as she turned her attention back to the
open runway. “Wisher’s going to be crazy when he wakes up, you know. I don’t think he’ll buy that I controlled you as well.”

“Let me worry about him,” Rachel replied. “Just make sure you’re off that island by dawn tomorrow. There isn’t going to be much left after we send in the predator
drones.”

“Understood… And thanks, Rachel.”

“Good luck.”

The connection closed. Sarah placed her right hand on the stick and thought,
Jets to full power
. The howling of the engines increased threefold. The entire plane began to shudder,
vibrating from the massive forward force from the back of the vehicle to the elongated tip, like some beast desperate to break free of bonds holding it back. Sarah took a deep breath.

Brakes release.

The engines whined and the jet shot forward. The world in Sarah’s peripheral vision became a motion blur as the massive G-force pushed her back in her seat. Sarah focused directly ahead
– on the solid blackness of the runway. The jet tore forward. In less than a second it had covered half the ship, but Sarah sensed that it was not at take-off speed.

“Gonna be close!” Craig yelled over the engines.

The end of the runway was less than a second away. Sarah pulled back on the stick and the nose lifted…

Then the runway and the
Ulysses
raced past and there was only blue water and red sky on either side. Sarah’s heart leaped and for a terrible instant she was convinced the jet was
simply going to plough right into the ocean. But the world angled down as she forced the stick back. The ocean disappeared, replaced by sky through every window of the cockpit as the jet executed
an incredibly steep climb. Golden light bathed the cockpit. Altitude information flashed through Sarah’s mind directly from the on-board computer...

5,000... 10,000... 15,000 feet..
.

At 20,000 feet she pushed forward on the stick and the plane levelled out. She ordered the engines down to cruising power, not wanting to burn through all their fuel on the outward journey.
Sarah took a calming breath as she sensed the jet’s on-board systems settle into a perfectly stable flight.

“So, how did I do?” she asked, glancing at Commander Craig in the seat beside her.

Craig, whose face was just a little pale, wiped the sheen of sweat from his face. “Textbook stuff.”

“I thought we were going to die,” Robert said, a little more honestly.

“Thanks,” Sarah said.

Can Wei and I watch a Blu-ray?
Louise asked from the back.

Yes,
Sarah replied, and then added,
But nothing too adult.

She looked round at Robert. “Keep an eye on those two, will you?”

With just a little eye-roll, Robert unstrapped himself from the seat and went through to the back of the jet. Sarah turned her attention to Craig, who had removed the dart pistol from his belt
and was in the process of placing it in a backpack at his feet. He produced an automatic pistol – the bullet-firing variety – checked the clip and then placed it in his holster.

“Darts don’t seem so effective against Major Bright,” the commander said as he noticed Sarah watching him. He removed a second weapon from the bag: a chunky, black machine gun
with a laser sight clipped to the top.

“I was wondering why Rachel let us go so easily,” Sarah said. “And why you were so eager to come along. You wanted this, didn’t you? All that talk in the sparring room
– you needed me to steal the jet because it was the only way you were going to get to the island.”

The briefest smile flickered across his lips. “You’ve got your mission, I’ve got mine.”

“And that is?”

Craig met her enquiring eyes. “Take down Bright by any means necessary.”

“Won’t the drone bombers take care of that?”

Craig slotted a curved bullet clip into the front of the machine gun. “Call this a belt and braces approach. HIDRA dropped the ball with Bright three times, Sarah. Now Colonel Andersen
wants him dealt with for good. When the bombs hit the island, he’ll already be dead if I have anything to say about it.”

“And what if Bright gets to you first?”

“That’s my business. All you have to worry about is retrieving Hack and getting off the island – with or without me.”

Sarah shook her head. “We don’t leave anyone behind.”

Craig laid the gun on the panel in front of him and spun his chair to face her. He leaned forward, holding her eyes with the same intensity he had shown in the sparring room. “This
isn’t a game, Sarah. I thought we went through that before.”

“I’ve faced Bright.”

“Not like this,” Craig said. “Mercenaries… Weaponry… Bright on his own territory. Colonel Andersen let you take the jet only because she suspected there
wasn’t much she could do to stop you either way. And because she wanted me along for the ride.”

“As our babysitter, right?”

Craig shook his head slowly. “Be under no illusion: my primary mission is Bright. All other concerns are secondary – and that includes you and your friends.”

She studied Craig’s face carefully and didn’t have to read his mind to know that he was being deadly serious. If it came to a choice between them and Bright, the commander would
follow his directives. He was a soldier – an assassin if necessary – and his first loyalty was to the mission. Sarah shivered involuntarily, suddenly cold, despite the
temperature-controlled interior of the jet. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t think what.

Craig rose from his seat and went to the cockpit door. “Our ETA on the island is six hours. I’m going to get some sleep before then. Maybe you should put on the autopilot and try to
do the same.”

“Okay,” Sarah said as he left. The feeling of coldness hadn’t gone away – in fact, it was spreading through her body.

A bad feeling that wasn’t going away any time soon.

14

The soldiers returned as the last light of the day was fading through the cell window. There was no electric lighting in the room, so Kotler shone a torch into the cell as they
opened the door. Hack held up a hand against the beam.

“On your feet.”

Hack did as he was told. “We need water.”

The merc leader grabbed his arm and pushed him towards the door, then shone the torch on May. She lay sleeping by the wall, her head still on Hack’s T-shirt. Two more soldiers entered,
grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out of the cell.

“Be careful with her!” Hack protested.

Kotler scooped up the T-shirt and tossed it over. “Dress yourself and keep your mouth shut.”

Hack made to protest at their treatment once more, but Kotler slapped the torch head against his open palm. It was a heavy-duty metal Maglite, equally effective as a club. Hack had no doubt the
man would use it on him if he made trouble. Pulling the T-shirt over his head, he followed the other soldiers down the corridor and out into the compound beyond.

The night was alive with the sound of insects and still incredibly hot. Mosquitoes danced in the beams of the lights strung along the wire perimeter fence. Hack slapped a bloodsucker on his
cheek as he kept pace behind the soldiers dragging May, semi-conscious, between them. He cast another look around the camp – at the military vehicles stood waiting for action, and the
patrolling guards. A merc in a tower flicked a searchlight beam around the buildings, illuminating the shadowy areas in a regular pattern.

“Keep up, scum.” Kotler jabbed him in the spine with the Maglite as extra incentive.

Hack bristled, but kept walking.
Scum.
He wondered if it was necessary for men like Kotler to hate the people they guarded. Presumably it made it easier to abuse and hurt them. He knew
one thing: whether Robert and HIDRA came or not, he would escape the island prison and tell the world what had been done to him and May. Somehow he would bring these men to justice for what they
were doing.

All he had to do was escape.

They approached their destination: the largest buildings in the camp – two massive aircraft hangars standing side by side. The twenty-metre-high doors of the nearest hangar were half-open,
revealing a brilliantly lit interior. As they passed inside, Hack blinked against the light and took in the scene.

The hangar was relatively empty. Hack had expected to see the transport plane that carried him to the island, but it was not there – perhaps in the other building. There were only a couple
of vehicles – a pair of Humvees standing against the closed doors on the other side. Apart from that, the hangar was one giant open space, all the more impressive because of its emptiness.
Metal steps on either side led up to balconies, while a network of catwalks criss-crossed the ceiling. Hack made out soldiers stationed around these walkways, sniper rifles cradled in their arms.
He counted four of them.

Kotler gave him another shove and they crossed the hangar floor towards the centre, their footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Directly ahead was an even more brightly lit area: a square about
twenty metres by twenty, demarcated by yellow and black tape on the floor. High-powered lamps were mounted on stands at each corner of the square – the type you’d expect to see in a
television studio. There were also three cameras mounted on tripods pointed into the middle, enhancing the feeling of being in a studio. Cables trailed across the floor, some of them taped down,
some merely a tangled mess on the ground.

Hack’s heart leaped as he walked into the area.
Electronics.
The place hummed with connectivity. After the technological cold turkey of the cell, this area made his head throb. The
machinery sang to him.
Now, this I can use,
Hack thought, looking around…

“Ah, ah, ah. I know what you’re thinking.”

Hack turned in the direction of Marlon Good’s mocking voice. Now dressed in a white suit and trainers, the man appeared beside one of the tripod-mounted cameras.

“I bet all this tech must look like Christmas come early to you,” Good said, flipping the camera’s view screen open and angling the unit on Hack. “But I wouldn’t
mess with anything. Those guys up top have orders to take you out at the first sign of trouble.”

Good pointed a finger at the ceiling. Hack looked up and saw that one of the snipers had moved to the edge of a catwalk and was leaning over to watch him through the sights of his rifle.

“I’ve never seen anyone head-tapped outside of a computer game, have you?” Marlon Good asked with his characteristic giggle.

Hack looked at the man and wondered if he was truly mad or if it was just some kind of act. He had a nasty feeling he’d find out soon enough. The area was clearly set up to film something,
but what? “What is all this?” he asked.

“We’re going to make history tonight,” Good replied. “And I want to make sure it’s caught on camera. You know, for posterity. What we film here will become one of
the most important documents in history: the moment the world changed for ever.”

Delusions of grandeur,
Hack thought, but before he could ask any more questions, two soldiers approached with May between them and sat her down in a metal chair off to one side. She
mumbled something, but sat limply as the soldiers backed off. Hack started towards her, but Kotler smacked him in the chest with the torch.