Though Mr Dine had exited the shopping centre first, Mr Lowe’s ruthless drive put him in the lead. He flew out across the traffic, crunching in the roof of an Audi and then vaulting over the high back of a minibus. His gymnastics, his sheer grace, would have scored him maximum points at any Olympics. No one really saw it because he had become just a blur by then.
He landed on the far pavement, his impact cracking the expensive zigzag paving stones.
Mr Dine landed beside him. There was a terrible commotion of voices and shouting and car horns all around them. They each scanned the crowd. They looked at one another.
There was no sign of James.
Mr Dine looked at the scrum of injured people outside the Mall entrance.
‘That was unnecessary,’ he said.
‘It was appropriate. Only the Principal matters,’ Mr Lowe replied.
Thirty yards east of them, the passengers of a bendy-bus erupted in alarm. A man was clinging to the outside of the moving vehicle, looking in at them through the window. The driver began to slow the bus as he heard the ripple of panic behind him.
James gazed in at the alarmed passengers. So much agitation, so much fear. As the bus slowed, he let go of the hand-and toe-holds he had dug in its metal skin.
He landed on his feet and used the bus’s momentum to propel his onward flight.
They were behind him still, both of them. He could taste it.
He crossed the road again, weaving through the moving traffic, and ran down an underpass. He slowed. He was barely panting.
He took out his mobile.
‘How could she not know?’ Owen demanded.
Jack shrugged. ‘How could she not? How?’
‘Just take it easy,’ Jack suggested.
‘I will not. I bloody well will not!’
‘Then go and sit over there where I can’t hear you,’ said Jack.
‘I’m having trouble understanding this too,’ said Toshiko.
‘Join the club,’ Jack snapped.
‘Something hot,’ Ianto called. They crossed to the station he was monitoring.
‘Show me,’ Jack said.
‘Some kind of incident at the Capitol Mall,’ Ianto said. ‘Reports of property damage, injuries. Some kind of foot pursuit. Some guys apparently leapt off a moving escalator.’
Jack studied the screen. ‘Not much to go on. Could just be-’
His phone rang.
‘This is Jack.’
‘Jack, it’s James.’
Jack hesitated before answering. He pointed to Ianto and then at his phone. Ianto nodded and started to tap at the keyboard.
‘Jack, are you there?’
‘Yeah, James. We were worried about you. Where a-’
‘Jack, listen to me. Something’s going on. Something wrong.’
‘James, what do you-’
‘Just listen. I haven’t got much time to talk. They’re after me.’
‘Who’s after you, James?’
‘The men. For Christ’s sake, Jack, help me. I’m going crazy here. Talk to Owen. Owen can tell you about it. Tell him I said it was OK to tell you.’
‘James,’ said Jack carefully. ‘I think I already know. Owen didn’t need to tell me.’
There was a long silence.
‘Oh,’ said James. ‘OK. That’s good, then. I trust you, Jack. I trust you.’
‘Glad to hear it. What kind of trouble are we talking? Scale of one to ten?’
‘Twenty-seven, you idiot! Please!’
The line muffled for a moment. There were some indistinct noises.
‘James? James, are you there?’
‘Jack, they’re coming! They’re-’
‘CALL ENDED’ read the screen of Jack’s phone.
‘Did you get it?’ Jack asked. ‘Please tell me you got it.’
Ianto nodded. ‘GPS is just punching it up. Phone location…’ He looked at Jack. ‘Phone location two hundred and thirty-three yards south of that Mall.’
‘I’ll start the car,’ said Owen.
The dead centre of Cardiff: gleaming shops and boutique arcades, and bold new developments overlapping with the last relics of the City’s poorer past. Saturday afternoon, a weak sun smiling, the town crawling with the retail-hungry and the credit card debt-addicted.
The black SUV ploughed through the inner-city traffic, anonymous as a storm cloud.
They pulled up on double yellow lines and got out. Jack, Toshiko and Owen.
‘Ianto?’ Jack asked into his Bluetooth.
‘Hearing you.’
‘Fix?’
‘You’re right on it.’
Jack looked around at the other two. ‘Boiled egg,’ he said.
Side by side, they began to run.
James looked up and down the tiled cavity of the underpass. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket. No signal.
Traffic thumped by overhead. He took a step towards the east end of the underpass.
The man in dark jeans appeared, walking slowly down the slope towards him. James switched back. The blond man in the suit came down the steps to the west.
James tried to back away from both advancing figures, a feat he quickly realised was technically impossible.
He held out his palms in either direction.
‘That’s far enough!’ he barked. His voice echoed along the little tunnel.
They slowed down, but continued to advance.
‘I mean it!’ James cried.
They halted.
‘I want you to leave me alone. Leave me alone!’
That is not possible, ever.
‘What?’
The safety of the Principal is our paramount concern.
‘Which of you said that? Who said that?’
The dark-haired man took a step closer.
‘Whoa! No you don’t!’ James exclaimed.
The dark-haired man stopped.
We are here only to protect the Principal.
‘Yeah, so you said.’
Your actions and behaviour are contrary to the Principal’s best interests.
‘Great. Maybe I can help with that.’
The blond man smiled. ‘That is unlikely. You have been compromised.’
‘I’ve been what?’
‘You have been compromised,’ said the dark-haired man. ‘Your investment has been damaged and, as a result, your self-protection protocols have been compromised.’
‘I really don’t understand,’ said James, keeping his hands raised, aimed at both of them.
‘That is the point,’ said the blond man. ‘You don’t understand. By now, you should, but you clearly don’t. We see this. This proves your investment has compromised you.’
‘Lower your hands,’ said the dark-haired man.
‘Just explain… please. Explain what you mean,’ James said, keeping his hands up.
The blond man sighed. ‘Explanation should not be necessary. The jeopardy upload should have re-installed your base consciousness by now. This also proves that your self-protection protocols have been compromised. You should know yourself and understand this situation. You should not be resisting. You should be ready and willing for extraction.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ said James, ‘whatever that means.’
‘You are-’ the dark-haired man began.
‘You, shut up,’ warned James. ‘I’m listening to you both. I want to understand, but you’re going to have to start making sense really soon. Speak plainly. Explain it in terms I can grasp.’
‘Plainly?’ asked the dark-haired man.
‘Information evidently must be seated in terms that can be understood using this milieu’s frames of reference,’ said the blond man. ‘Like the fact that chocolate ice cream… is animal fats and flavourings, pretty much.’
The dark-haired man looked uncertain. ‘None of this is important. Only the duty is important. The Principal must be protected and recovered.’
He moved forwards.