Survival (11 page)

Lieutenant-Commander Love sat alone in the command
centre of
HMS Enforcer
. His head was in his hands.
Then a voice crackled through his intercom.

“Sir, we’re getting some irregularities on our system.
Possible engine failure. Do you see that?”

Love snapped out of his reverie and studied his
control panel. “It’s not on my system,” he said. “Are you
sure about this?”

“We’re sure, sir. We’re going to have to abandon ship.”

“Abandon ship?” Love scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. It’s
probably a technical problem on your console. Or what
if it’s a trick? Those rebels could have worked out how
to get inside the system and—”

“Nevertheless, sir, we need to follow protocol on this.”

Love clenched his fists. “No!” he shouted. “We can’t
abandon ship until we’ve found a way out of this…
situation. If we leave before I’ve secured the mine, I’ll be
discharged, or court-martialled, or… worse.”

“Sorry, sir,” came the response. “It’s protocol. I’m
issuing the alert now.” Suddenly the lights in the
command centre cut out and were replaced by a
flashing red alarm, accompanied by a siren. “See you at
the lifeboats, sir.”

“I’m not coming!” Love roared. “You can’t make me!”
He ran to the door and locked himself in. “Cowards!”

As soon as he turned back to his console, the door
crashed open behind him. Love spun round, but too
slowly to catch sight of the intruder.

“Who’s that?” he hissed, twisting to search the
shadows of the room. His hand jumped to the service
revolver on his belt. Before his fingers touched the
handle, he felt a blow on the side of his head so strong
that he thought one of the ship’s missiles had been
aimed at his brain. That was his last thought before
he blacked out.

Love’s limp body slumped to the floor. Standing over
it was Jimmy Coates.

Love wasn’t dead. In fact Jimmy hadn’t even struck
him that hard – just a sharp and precise stab with his
fingertips into the occipital artery beneath Love’s ear.
The split-second surge of blood to Love’s brain intensified
the sensations of his nerves, then caused the blackout.

Jimmy waited a few minutes, until he could see from
the control panel that all of the lifeboats had been
launched, then quickly dragged Love out of the
command centre. Within minutes he had placed three
flotation aids on the Lieutenant-Commander, hauled
him overboard and returned to the controls.
The cold
water will bring him round,
Jimmy thought.

Now Jimmy stood alone in the command centre, the
thrill of the mission rushing through his veins. The blood
pumping in his head drowned out the sea, the wind and
the rolling of the ship. His entire body was exhilarated.
His eyes flitted over the vast desk of screens, thirsty for
information. He was buzzing, but at the same time he
felt supremely calm, as if his natural emotions were
locked down.

The French had manipulated him for too long, just
like the Americans and the British before them. Now
was his chance to make sure nobody ever tried to take
advantage of him again. At the same time he could
make certain that Stovorsky brought his family to safety.

But his mother and sister faded further and further
from Jimmy’s mind. That thought throbbed in his head
again:
Destroy
. At first he wanted to control it, but
then he focused on it. He revelled in it. This is what
he was here for.

His hands moved around the controls as easily as if
he was answering an email on a home computer. He
didn’t understand how to control a Royal Navy
destroyer, but he could feel it. His commands went
straight from the deepest part of his subconscious
directly into the operating system of the ship’s
navigational computer.

When the groan of the engines forced the huge
vessel forward, Jimmy felt the power in his gut.
HMS Enforcer
quickly gathered speed.

“Any word?” asked Stovorsky’s driver, hunched over the
steering wheel with binoculars clamped against his face.

“Two units are on their way,” replied Stovorsky, “but
they’ll be half an hour at least. Getting across this
terrain at night is a pain.”

“Two units? But he’s just—”

“Don’t you dare say he’s just a kid. Don’t be a fool.”
Stovorsky lifted his hands from his laptop to wipe the
sweat from his face. “If I could call in twenty-two units I
would. If that boy does anything to that mine, France will
be plunged into economic chaos.” He sucked a lungful of
air in through his teeth. “Anyway, if I can get this signal
to him we might not need the military support.”

They were much closer to Mutam-ul-it now. As soon as
it had been cool enough, they’d driven out of the town and
taken a position a safe distance from the mine compound,
watching and waiting for Jimmy to show himself.

“I think I’ve got it!” Stovorsky exclaimed at last.
“How’s this?”

He tapped a couple of keys and swivelled the laptop
round on his knee to face the driver. A second later a voice
recording rang through the speakers, as clearly as if the
speaker had been sitting in the car with them. It was Felix.

“
We’re in a safehouse
,” said Felix’s voice.

Then came Georgie’s, adding, “
We’re doing fine
.”
Then, after a short pause, “
The French rule
.”

Felix again: “
We owe them
.”

Stovorsky stopped the playback. He and the driver
stared at each other.

“Is that it?” asked the younger man cautiously.

Stovorsky threw up his hands. “You want to try?” he
roared. “Zafi sent me a two-hour recording of a game
of Monopoly! This is all I could edit together that’s even
remotely usable.”

“Nothing from his mother?”

“His mother must be a mute or something. She
barely said a word.”

They both thought in silence for a minute. Eventually
Stovorsky asked gently, “Do you think he’ll…?”

The driver shrugged.

“It’s our only chance,” announced Stovorsky. “I’m
sending it.”

He tapped a sequence of keys on the laptop then sat
back, trying to seem relaxed – and failing. Straightaway
his body snapped upright again and his eyes almost
popped out of his head.

“Look at this.” He turned the laptop screen to the
driver again. “The British destroyer. It’s moving. It’s
heading towards the mine.”

“What are they doing?”

“They’re not slowing down.” Stovorsky frantically tapped
at the keys again, adjusting the contrast of the satellite
feed. “They’re going to crash straight into the dock.”

“Wait, look.” The driver pointed at the corner of the
screen, to a cluster of dots on the map a little further down
the coast. Stovorsky zoomed in. At first the dots were
blurred and pixelated, but as Stovorsky tinkered with the
settings, the shapes became clearer. They were lifeboats.
And from those lifeboats figures streamed up the beach.

“It’s the British crew,” Stovorsky gasped.

“But if they’re not manning the destroyer…”

Stovorsky was already scrabbling for his radio. “This is
Stovorsky,” he screamed. “Where are those two units?!”

HMS Enforcer
powered through the waves like a charging
rhino through tall grass. And the only soul aboard was
Jimmy Coates. His eyes almost throbbed as he stared at
the horizon. All he could see of the dock of Mutam-ul-it
was the line of huge warehouses, black rectangles against
the faint orange of the mine. Somewhere there must have
been embers still glowing after the British attack.

Every few seconds Jimmy adjusted the navigational
heading on the ship’s computer. But when his fingers
touched the controls he felt a rush of doubt. Who was
making his decisions? He couldn’t tell any more whether it
was his programming acting to make sure he survived, or
his human side pushing his programming out of control.
All he knew was that his doubts were crushed by the urge
inside him to destroy the Mutam-ul-it mine. He could feel
it in his assassin’s instincts. And he wanted it too.
It’s the
only way
, he thought, forcing away any hesitation.

He looked up at the dock. It was close enough to
make out the individual lights on the piers now. He
wiped the sweat from his face. Then his hand reached
out to the controls again. There was still time to turn
the ship and avoid a collision.

“No!” Jimmy shouted. “Force them.” His voice
cracked in every word.

In his head he pushed himself to think through the
consequences:
Destroy the mine
. The ship plunged
onwards, unrelenting.
Force Stovorsky to protect Mum
and Georgie and Felix
. He was so close to shore now he
could hear the growl of the ship echoing off the
warehouses.
Go to London
–
finish their war
.

Now the
Enforcer’s
warning system rang out an
alarm – the water was too shallow and the shore was
too close. The siren blended with the silent screams in
Jimmy’s head. Each side of his mind pushed the other
towards destruction, while somewhere in the middle
was a tiny voice that knew it was crazy.

But now it was too late anyway. Jimmy’s ears were
nearly ripped apart by a new noise. It drowned out the
wail of the ship’s siren and the fighting in his head –
the keel scraping against the seabed. It sounded like
the screeching of a thousand ocean monsters,
grinding the bones of their victims.

Still the destroyer tore on: 7500 tonnes of iron
crashed into the pier at over 30 knots. Shreds of wood
and metal exploded into the sky. The momentum of the
ship didn’t drop. It smashed through the dock as if it
was splitting the Earth itself in two. The impact knocked
Jimmy off his feet. The vibrations and the noise quaked
through his body, clattering every organ.

What’s happening?
he wondered, even though this
was exactly what he had planned. He crawled across
the floor, every centimetre a battle against the massive
juddering of the ship’s walls and floor. Now every
instinct shouted the same thing:
Get out of here
.

“Faster!” Stovorsky roared.

His driver didn’t respond. The Panhard PVP 360 was
already going at over 110 kph. The tyres slipped in
every direction across the wet sand, but still the young
driver kept his foot fully planted on the accelerator.

“I thought you were a driver!” Stovorsky cried. “DRIVE!”

That moment, Stovorsky’s wail was lost against an
ear-splitting crack. The driver slammed his foot on the
brakes. The off-roader skidded for 100 metres,
spinning full circle before coming to a stop. Ahead of
them, just visible in the darkness, was the compound of
Mutam-ul-it. At one end of it were the charred skeletons
of the bombed buildings. At the other were the giant
warehouses of the dock. But ploughing through them,
like a dog ravaging a house of cards, was the British
Navy destroyer,
HMS Enforcer
. They were too late.

For a second they froze. Only the shaking of the
earth brought the two men to their senses. The
impact of the ship in the harbour shot tremors up
the coast, creating huge clouds of ash, dust and sand.

“Turn around,” Stovorsky ordered. “Get us out of here.”

The driver was already doing it. In no time, they were
speeding away as quickly as they’d arrived.

“They’ll never hold,” gasped Stovorsky.

“What?” shouted the driver.

“The tunnels.”

Stovorsky peered over his shoulder. Within seconds his
sight of the mine was lost in a huge black cloud. Another
massive crash echoed across the beach. The miles and
miles of tunnels snaking beneath Mutam-ul-it were collapsing.

“He’s destroyed everything,” gasped Stovorsky. He
couldn’t even hear his own voice beneath the sounds
of obliteration.

Then a flash caught his eye. Against the huge black
cloud that engulfed the landscape it looked like a diamond
in a coalface. He strained his eyes to see what it was and
scrabbled for his binoculars.

Racing across the sand, emerging from the blackness
behind them, was the solitary headlight beam of a MZ 125
SX French military motorbike. Driving it, bent forwards over
the handlebars so far his chin was between his hands and
his backside didn’t touch the seat, was Jimmy Coates.

“That way!” Stovorsky shouted. He shoved the driver
in the shoulder and pointed wildly to the side. “It’s him!”

* * *

Jimmy squinted against the wind and clenched his lips
tightly shut. He didn’t want a mouth full of wet sand. His
heel never lifted from the accelerator. Even over the snarl
of his bike’s 15 crank-horsepower and the elements
bombarding his face, he could hear the crashing of
Mutam-ul-it collapsing behind him. Maybe his imagination
exaggerated it, but he thought he could feel the rumbles
in the earth as each tunnel gave way.
That place is
finished
, he thought with a rush of hot satisfaction.

Straight away his blood ran cold again. Streaking
towards him in a brown/grey blur was a Panhard PVP
360 off-roader. Stovorsky was leaning out of the side,
aiming his gun.

This wasn’t part of Jimmy’s plan. He needed the
chance to explain what he’d done if he was going to
force Stovorsky to help him, but the man didn’t look in
the mood to talk.

Jimmy jerked his wrist to open out the throttle even
further. The engine gave a kick as more petrol ignited in
the chamber. Jimmy felt like he’d been thrown into the
next dimension of speed. The wet sand offered a
perfectly greased surface, with no friction to slow him
down. What’s more, the slightest bump in the ground
became a launch pad, lifting Jimmy into the air for
jumps that felt like short flights. He could almost feel
the power of the machine underneath him infusing his
limbs, as if they were just extra pistons.

But Stovorsky was racing to cut him off and the off-
roader had a bigger engine than Jimmy’s bike. Jimmy
charged north up the coast, with the ocean on his left.
To his right was Stovorsky, hurtling nearer, trapping him
against the water.

The two vehicles tore towards a collision point,
through a bank of smog and ash, their tracks scarring
the sand. Jimmy flicked off his headlight. Why give
Stovorsky a clearer target?

Then came the first shot. Jimmy heard the crack of the
pistol and the whiz of the bullet over his head. He swerved
to the left. The slightest nudge on the handlebars sent the
bike spinning wildly off-line, until he was skidding along the
very edge of the beach, the tide licking his tyres.

It was no good. The water slowed him down and
Stovorsky immediately changed direction to compensate,
speeding up even more. Jimmy would never outrun them
like this. His bike was straining at 120 kph and there was
nowhere to hide. Any second Stovorsky would be close
enough to shoot the hairs off his head.
Get to the town
,
Jimmy told himself, his inner voice calm and clear.

With a sudden jerk, he twisted the bike back away
from the water – and straight towards Stovorsky. Jimmy
charged on, ducking left and right every half-second in
case Stovorsky fired again. The car was heading
straight for him now. They’d seen him turn.

Within seconds there were barely fifty metres
separating them. Then thirty, then fifteen… Before
Jimmy could even think, he was close enough to see the
lines on Stovorsky’s forehead. And the barrel of his gun.

Jimmy didn’t wait for the shot. His body was in the grip
of his assassin instinct. The instinct to survive at all costs.
The instinct that constantly tested his body, pushing his
abilities to the very limits of what was possible.

The instant the bullet left Stovorsky’s barrel, Jimmy
let go of the handlebars and pushed with his knee to
overbalance the bike. Still travelling at over 130 kph, it
crashed to its side and slid along the sand, while Jimmy
kicked off it, into the air.

Crash point. The two vehicles were on top of each
other now – but they never touched. The tube-steel frame
of the bike slid between the front wheels of the off-roader
and right underneath it. Jimmy slammed into the front
windshield and bounced back into the air. He soared right
over Stovorsky’s head. As he flew, he rolled and kicked
out one leg to push himself off the back of the car.

He reached out, in blind faith, clutching for
something without even realising what it was. Then he
landed on it – his bike spinning out from under the car.
In a split-second, Jimmy grabbed the handlebars, but
kept spinning, like a puck across ice. At the perfect
moment, he gave one more kick, jamming his heel into
the sand and heaving with his forearms.

The bike jumped on to its back wheel like a trained
animal leaping to its feet. Stovorsky’s driver braked hard and
swirled round in a giant U-turn, showered in sand. By the
time they were in pursuit again, Jimmy had a head start. It
wasn’t huge, but it was enough. He willed the motor to spin
even faster and his wheels to find some grip on the sand.
He didn’t dare look round to see how close Stovorsky was.

At last the terrain became more solid. There was the
vague outline of a track and the occasional building. A
few seconds at top speed and suddenly Jimmy was
in the heart of Tlon.

What a difference from the open landscape. The
narrow streets twisted like the branches of a desert
tree. Jimmy careered up the main street, but then
abruptly skidded to a stop and twisted 90 degrees. He
kicked off again straight away, firing himself between
two buildings. He just caught sight of the off-roader
close behind him before he disappeared into the alley.
The buildings were so close together Jimmy could have
touched the walls on either side of him at once. There
was no way the car could follow.

At the other end of the alley he was spat out into
another wider road. Jimmy’s pace hardly dropped.
Stovorsky was tearing round the corner at the top of
the street. They’d worked out where he would emerge.
Jimmy didn’t have time to think. He slammed his heel
down and charged straight towards the wall of a house.

All he could see was the white plasterwork plunging
towards his face. One image flashed into his head: his
brains going splat against the building. But his body had
a plan. Immediately he cut the engine and redoubled his
grip on the bike. The front wheel hit the wall with a
bone-crunching shock. Jimmy’s chest clenched and he
pulled with his arms. The back end of the bike was
thrown into the air and Jimmy with it – straight through
an open window directly above the point of impact.

Jimmy was aware of a woman’s scream. He tumbled
over himself, still attached to the bike. The world
became a whirl of colour, then
CRASH
!

Darkness. He’d flown through a window into a
couple’s bedroom, right over the bed and smashed into
the wardrobe. But still Jimmy’s body didn’t stop. He
stood up, brushed the splinters of the wardrobe from
his front and hauled his bike out of the pile of gaudy pink
and orange dresses.
With clothes like that,
he thought,
they don’t deserve a wardrobe
.

The couple were sitting up in bed, with books in their
hands and their mouths hanging open. Jimmy gave a
small nod, then jumped on to his bike and drove out of
the room. He let himself out of the front door of the
apartment and sped along the hallway, building up
enough speed to make another jump, this time out of the
window at the end of the corridor, back into the open.

Any shadow of Stovorsky giving chase in the all-
terrain PVP was gone.

‘
All-
terrain’ obviously doesn’t include wardrobes
,
Jimmy thought to himself with a smile.