‘That’s why you never made it to the top tier of fieldwork, Peter,’ Brice replied as he dismissed the image and checked other cameras. ‘You never had the balls to do whatever was necessary. You’re just like Quentin Hove and all the other politicians — happy to give the orders, but too afraid of getting any dirt on your plump little hands.’
The older man noticed a frown forming on Brice’s face. ‘My hands are not “plump”,’ he said with exaggerated indignation, wanting to distract his captor for as long as possible. If Brice couldn’t find Eddie and Nina, then maybe they were outside the test area… ‘And what do you want from me?’
‘What I want,’ said Brice, still flicking between the feeds, ‘is for you to arrange an NQA flight out of the country from Southampton. I know the airspace is closed and all civilian flights are grounded, but your getting here so quickly tells me you’ve got the authority to circumvent that.’
‘I don’t think that my turning up at the airport with the most wanted man in Britain will qualify as “No Questions Asked”.’
‘Well, that’s just it, Peter. I don’t need you to think; I need you to do.’ The frown deepened. ‘Where are they?’
Eddie sidestepped carefully along the precarious catwalk and looked down through a narrow gap between the scrims. He was almost above the control tower. Once he jumped on to its roof, he should be able to lift one of its corrugated panels and reach Macy.
The last few steps. His wounded calf muscle felt as if someone was slowly driving a corkscrew ever deeper into his flesh, but he took a long breath, willing away the pain as he reached the centre of the tower’s roof… then dropped.
The gauze beneath the lights tore loose as he fell. He hit the roof with a bang—
And kept falling.
The thin metal folded like cardboard under his weight. Eddie plunged through into the control room with a yelp — and landed heavily on one of the dummies, flattening it.
Macy looked around in astonishment. ‘Daddy!’
‘Macy, duck!’ he yelled as he rolled painfully off the broken figure. There were three other plastic Russians surrounding her — and now they were all turning his way—
‘There you are!’ crowed Brice as one feed suddenly revealed a flurry of movement. He tapped it to zoom in, then another touch of the screen gave him control over the sentries. His target scrambled to his feet as the dummies pivoted towards him, guns at the ready—
Eddie grabbed the fallen dummy’s rifle, but couldn’t risk firing so close to Macy. Instead he swung the weapon above her head, smacking the AK out of the closest soldier’s hands before whirling to take an entire arm off another.
But there was still one left—
He dived forward — wrapping his arms around his daughter and bowling the chair over as the dummy fired.
Macy screamed as they hit the floor, bullets whipping above them. Eddie released her and rolled at the dummy’s legs. It lurched, but was attached to a weighted base and sprang back upright, still shooting. The control room’s windows shattered.
The rifle jerked mechanically downwards as it tracked the Yorkshireman—
But the soldier’s arms had reached the limit of their movement. Eddie jumped up and snatched the AK from the unliving hands — then punched the dummy’s head clean off its shoulders. ‘Up yours, Charlie Crippen!’
‘Daddy!’ Macy wailed. He dropped the gun and untied the rope, then hugged her. ‘Daddy, you’re here, Daddy!’
‘Course I’m here, love,’ he replied, experiencing a wave of relief so strong that it felt as if his heart would burst from his chest. ‘I’ll always come back for you, always.’ Macy buried her face into his cheek.
But he knew the day was far from over. He still had to find Nina and Alderley — and deal with Brice. ‘Come on, Macy,’ he said. ‘Sorry I forgot to bring you a toy lion; we’ll go and find one with Mummy.’
‘Mommy,’ his daughter automatically corrected. Eddie grinned, then started down the damaged stairs.
‘How sweet,’ Brice said sarcastically, as the tablet showed father and daughter descending from the control room.
Alderley, engaged in a phone call, glanced at the screen. ‘They’re okay? Good,’ he muttered in an aside.
The ex-spy suppressed his annoyance. Killing Chase, after all, was not the reason he had come to the Funhouse; getting Alderley away from the safety of SIS headquarters had been his true objective. With a gun trained upon him through the open passenger door, the section head had been forced to make arrangements via back-door channels — any officer worth his salt knew ways to bypass the agency’s bureaucracy — for a light aircraft flight from Southampton across the English Channel to France. A parachute jump into Normandy, where he had contacts who would either be willing or be given no choice but to help, and Brice would be gone, with the whole of Europe and beyond into which to disappear.
The irony that the one place he could never again go was his home country didn’t escape him. Now that he had been exposed, Britain’s ruling elite — even though they would benefit the most from his actions — could not be seen to grant him the slightest leniency. But it was a price he was willing to pay for saving the nation.
Besides, even he had to admit that while England had many charms, its weather was not one of them. Heading south had its advantages…
‘Okay, the plane’ll be ready in forty minutes,’ said the man Alderley had called. Brice had insisted the conversation take place on speaker so he could be sure a trap was not being set. There was still the possibility that Alderley had used a duress code, but the field agent was gambling that he wasn’t nearly paranoid enough to have prepared one for every eventuality. ‘The parachute’ll be on board.’
‘Great, thanks,’ Alderley replied. Brice gestured for him to disconnect. ‘All right, John, now what?’
‘Now, you call off the surveillance teams. Tell them I’d already left before they got here — the whole thing was a diversion.’
‘They won’t believe it.’
The gun’s muzzle tilted towards his head. ‘I’ve got seventeen reasons for you to be very convincing. Now make the call—’
‘Drop it or I shoot!’
Brice looked up to see Nina — holding an AK-74. Even with her left arm in a sling, the rifle was aimed unwaveringly at him. ‘Nina!’ cried Alderley in relief. ‘You’re okay!’
‘Yeah, no thanks to this asshole. Brice, I said drop the gun. Now.’ Brice let the gun clatter to the ground. ‘Now move back.’ He slowly retreated, watching her intently. ‘Peter, are you okay?’
‘Yeah — and Eddie and Macy are fine,’ Alderley told her as she rounded the car and kicked the pistol under it. ‘He just rescued her.’
‘Oh, thank God.’ Her gaze momentarily flicked towards the doors, hoping to see her family—
The flat crack of a gunshot and a searing pain in her upper chest came as one.
Nina fell against the car. Agony overpowered any thought of retaliation as she clutched at the burning wound torn from the side of her left breast to beneath her armpit. Brice had shot her — but how?
The answer came as he snatched up her rifle. She glimpsed smoke trailing from his right shirt cuff. Some kind of trick weapon, an ace hidden literally up his sleeve…
‘It was in the armoury here,’ Brice said smugly, tugging back his cuff to reveal a dull grey tube strapped to the inside of his wrist. ‘Single shot, triggered by muscle action. James Bond may not be real, but SIS still has its own little gadgets.’ He brought the AK towards Nina and Alderley, his face turning cold. ‘Now. Peter, make the call. Or she dies.’