“My god, this guy is heavy,” Andrew said, panting under the inventor’s bulk. “You’d think a skinny man like this wouldn’t weigh so much.”
“Dead weight,” Simon said between clenched teeth. “So to speak.”
“But you’re sure he’s not?”
“Positive,” Simon said as he put his shoulder under one side of Hayden’s body, and Andrew adjusted to take the other side. They began their uneven stagger down the dark subway tunnel, back the way they had come. Every minute took them a few steps farther from the safe house and closer to their secret exit. “Did you smell the gas in the safe house?” Simon said breathlessly. “I know that stink. Not poison, immobilization gas.”
“So he’s alive-”
“-but paralyzed. Hopefully temporarily.”
“Hopefully?”
Simon shrugged under Hayden’s weight.
“Depends on how big a whiff he got.”
“My god, Simon, do you think he’ll be okay?”
“Don’t know,” Simon replied. “We have to get him to Samantha as quick as we can.”
Hayden could barely feel his body being carried through the tunnel. All he could feel was cold: cold face, cold fingers, cold curve of his eyeballs.
He concentrated as hard as he could on moving his head, but nothing happened. He tried lifting an arm, turning a hand, even crooking a finger. Nothing. His body was as limp and unresponsive as a corpse.
But he could hear-too well, in fact. He was fully aware of every sound around him, and was able to see-in a distant, blurred way-whatever happened to pass near his open, unfocused eyes. He could hear Simon’s voice and Andrew’s. He could see a faint show of bouncing lights as they carried him down the tunnel. Nothing more. Nothing.
Don’t leave me, he prayed. Don’t get tired, don’t give up, don’t think I’m dead. Please. Please.
They picked up the pace, straining to find a light in front of them or detect the sounds of pursuit from the rear. It was harder to haul Hayden’s body than Simon expected, but both of them were in good condition. They could do this, he knew. They had to.
They trudged along in silence for almost five minutes. Finally Andrew couldn’t stand it anymore. “How much farther do you think?” he said, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.
“A few more minutes, but I can carry him alone, if you’d like,” Simon insisted.
“No,” Andrew said, “I’m good.”
Simon set his jaw. “Hayden risked his life for me and my father.” He took in another lungful of air and forced his breathing to normalize. “This is my responsibility. None of this would have happened if I had kept my mouth shut.”
Andrew shook his head. “You’re wrong.” He pointed his flashlight ahead of him to see how far they needed to go. It looked like an endless shaft of blackness. “You couldn’t have known. There’s definitely something much bigger going on here.”
Hayden’s weight had started to become overwhelming, but Simon pushed on. Ignore it, he ordered himself. Get him out of here. Hayden’s survival was the only thing on his mind. He pictured Samantha waiting just outside the tunnel; he knew she would snap into ‘doctor mode’ the minute she saw a patient in need. She’d pull out of her silly, passive stupor and help. For the first time, he was almost glad she had forced her way into the team. Her presence just might save Hayden’s life.
“Can’t be much farther,” he said aloud, as much to himself as Andrew. “Can’t be.”
* * *
All Hayden could hear was soggy footsteps and rasping, heavy breathing. All he could see was a swaying, indecipherable slice of light against endless blackness as they stumbled slowly down the abandoned tunnel. It seemed to have been going on for hours. It felt as if it would go on for hours more.
Too easy, he told himself dreamily.
The ops team, they’ll get through that door. They’re not going to let a brain like mine get away without a fight.
Not my big, big brain.
Not long after, he heard the gunshots. But he never did see them.
* * *
Simon’s legs were stiff as logs. He felt as if he’d been hauling Hayden’s inert body down the rocky track bed since the beginning of time. Conversation between the two of them had stopped. They needed every ounce of energy to just keep moving.
The exhaustion made Simon slow. He didn’t notice the green dot on Andrew’s neck until the very last second.
What the hell? He thought. Green…
“Andrew!” he bellowed. “Watch out!” He shoved them all to the side as hard as he could, tripping and falling as he heaved.
The first bullet made a harsh, metallic thwang as it hit a pipe embedded in the subway tunnel wall-approximately the same position Andrew’s head had been, seconds before.
Andrew rolled onto his back, groaning. “What…?” he said.
“Laser-guided sight,” Simon grated, scrambling to his feet. “Saw the dot on your neck.”
Andrew pulled himself up beside him. “Jesus…”
They looked back with sudden clarity and saw the glint of gunmetal and goggles in the near-darkness. They were being followed. They couldn’t tell how many, but they were gaining ground fast, but cautiously.
There was no time for Simon to be cautious.
He reached down and jerked Hayden’s body up with a strength he didn’t know he had. “Run,” he said as he tossed the man’s body over his shoulder, bowing under its weight, but still upright.
“What?” Andrew said, still swaying. “But-”
“RUN!”
They pounded down the tunnel as fast as they could. A second shot thwanged off the concrete wall, and then they were around the last curve and out of sight of their pursuers, if only for a few moments.
“There,” Simon said breathlessly. Hayden felt like a thousand pounds across his back, but he couldn’t stop-not now. “There.”
The open iron grate of the staircase up to the surface was fifty feet away.
NORTH OXFORD, ENGLAND
Range Rover
As Samantha walked toward the convenience store, she realized how refreshing the air was. She had been stuck in the Range Rover for far too long. She needed time to think, to move.
The tea shop was a tidy, little place run by a husband-and-wife team who kept it going despite the speed and efficiencies of the twenty-first century-a proud throwback to the past. Sam took her time browsing through the aisles, breathing and thinking and not saying a word. Ten minutes later she bought a bottle of water, a small packet of biscuits, and a pack of cigarettes. She even lingered over a conversation with the husband and wife, then-feeling a thousand percent better-slipped out of the store and back into the parking lot.
Clouds as dark and heavy as iron had closed in again, covering the sky over Oxford from end to end and side to side. Just what we need, she thought glumly as she stood on the curb and looked at the silent, immobile Range Rover on the far side of the street. More rain. The overcast had reduced what light existed to almost blackness. She knew the look of it; it would be pouring in minutes.
She pulled the cigarettes from her bag and looked at them for a moment. She had quit smoking at the age of twenty-two, and hadn’t felt the urge to start again, not once, until today. What the hell, she told herself. If all of this doesn’t warrant a smoke, nothing does.
The air was suddenly, unexpectedly chilly against her skin as the storm front rolled in. Still, she stood a moment longer on the sidewalk, in no particular hurry to rush back to the car. I wish Ryan would get here, she thought. Then at least I’d have someone else to talk to until Simon and Andrew get back. The thought of quietly, meekly sitting with Jonathan in the car irked her. The whole thing felt as if it was her fault that she was here and concerned about Simon’s safety-about all of them.
Part of her was very angry with Simon. How could he have gotten himself involved in all of this? How could he have kept all of this from her? It was all too unreal, too dangerous…