Brock Steele Sphere Page 20

  “And the old woman helped you escape after all?” said Sarah.

  “No! I was no prisoner,” Brock said. “I was there of my own free will. But this mysterious old woman likely picked up what was happening and warned me to get out”

  The droning hum of the helicopter surrounded them as they cross the tightly spread buildings. Brock pulled on the lever and a light came on.

  “You’ve knowledge of flying, I can tell,” said Sarah. “From where, may I ask?”

  “You could say that. Where should we fly this whirlybird to? The north, Yorkshire Moors, Edinburgh, Paris, America, Australia perhaps.”

  “Let’s give Edinburgh a wide berth, you know what happened last time,” said Ty.

  “And we may encounter problems with regards to airspace in some of these places. How about popping back to the hotel? A delicious chocolate eclair is sitting patiently in the kitchen waiting for me,” said Sarah.

  “Sorry to disappoint but I scoffed it this morning. Or is it the wine you need?”

  Sarah’s face reddened and she quickly changed the subject. “I imagined us being caught for sure. In the boat I’d pretty much given up,” she said.

  “Doubt we’re out of the woods just yet. I’m listening in to the radio communications through these earmuffs—they’re sending in the police choppers,” said Ty.

  “We should land this thing and run,” said Brock.

  “In London? The whole place is built up—an aircraft like this requires space. Could head north and find some farmland country fields, land it and dump it,” said Ty.

  “Surely somewhere nearby has room to land this monster, but my mind’s a blank,” said Brock.

  “The police will catch us,” Sarah burst out, tears running down her face. “I know it. That horrible man will walk free and be allowed to inflict a terrible tragedy on everyone.”

  A tall building appeared in front and Brock pulled on a lever, turning the chopper slightly left, directing the craft sideways. A red light sprung on in the control dashboard beeping. He slapped his hand across his forehead.

  “What’s wrong?” said Sarah.

  “Nothing to worry about. Just the fuel gauge indicating we’re out of fuel,” said Brock.

  “What?” cried Sarah.

  The chopper poised in the air, Ty tapped on the earphones of the radio. “He’s saying that if we don’t find somewhere to land soon, this craft will be up in flames on the side of some building. And if we jump mid-air. our bodies will be shattered on impact.”

  Sarah sniffled.

  “Hang on, we’re clear of Richmond,” Brock said. “Hyde Park is to our right now. Regent’s Park will be coming up soon.”

  “We can’t land here—it’s brimming with people,” said Sarah.

  “I know, but Hampstead Heath’s coming up. The craft will make it, I think.”

  “You think?” screeched Sarah.

  “The hotel car park is too small. How much do you know Hampstead Heath? It’s a big place, surely you can recommend somewhere.”

  Sarah shook her head furiously. “What do you want me to do? Recommend a local takeaway? Get real!” she shouted.

  “If we land it across this park, the authorities will be all over us. A craft of this size will be spotted and attract the wrong type of attention. We’ll struggle to get out of the park, and where will we go? If this little machine can make it further, we’ll better our chances,” said Brock.

  “Wait, there is the Hampstead Heath extension. If there’s enough fuel we can land it there. It’s a quiet park but nobody ever goes there,” said Sarah.

  Brock breathed out, glancing at the fuel gauge. Sarah peered through the oval-shaped window of the helicopter to the ground below. Moments passed and then she screamed. “We made it! The park is over there.”

  They all peered down.

  Chapter 31

  Brock snatched at the plastic package, ripping it open in the dimly lit bar back at the derelict hotel. The USB drive looked damp and little spots of rust had appeared in its metal. He turned it over in his hands while the other two watched.

  “What we going to do?” asked Ty.

  Brock slid the drive onto the bar, glaring at him.

  “This drive needs to be inserted into some sort of computer. We need a laptop,” said Brock.

  “Here? And what about the money? These items are costly,” muttered Sarah.

  “Think he’s implying I steal one,” said Ty.

  “Absolutely out of the question. The authorities have probably found the chopper by now. They’ll be swarming over the whole area. He’ll be caught, Brock.”

  Ty sprawled himself over the barstool while Brock stared at the drive.

  “She’s right. This whole experience is setting alarm bells ringing in my head. I wish I could think straight. I know it sounds crazy, but all this debacle is starting to make sense. We should pack our stuff and move out in case the hotel’s raided,” said Brock.

  He snatched a hairdryer from a room upstairs and plugged it in near the bar, waving it over the drive. Then he poured himself a glass of red.

  “How can this be?” he muttered. “I’m so close. I remember someone babbling on about computers once. Pissed the hell out of me at the time, but I could sure use his help now.”

  Sarah stepped towards him. “Sounds silly but this hotel … it’s grown on me. Are you talking about Meriden, by any chance?”

  “That’s the guy!,” said Brock.

  “I watched you chatting at the party. He can be a right annoying nerd at times, but he’s alright, I guess. One thing you’re right about: he knows a tremendous amount about computers. He’s studying at Oxford, getting an MA in IT. I reckon he would be able to fix it,” said Sarah.

  Brock poked at the drive, picking up his glass and necking the rest of the wine. “Doubt it. Where would we start looking for him? How do you know him? Your animal rights hacking days?”.

  Ty raised a surprised eyebrow.

  “Hacking? Him?” Sarah scoffed. “You’re joking. He’s annoyingly very by the book. Lacy and I visited him a couple of times. He fixed up her computer.”

  Brock studied his empty glass.

  “However, there is a problem,” she said.

  He picked up the wine bottle, pouring some into the glass as he waited for Sarah to speak.

  “He resides in Richmond,” she said.

  “Maybe I should pop out and acquire a laptop,” Ty said. “Save us the hassle. I know where to find one.”

  Brock rolled the wine around his glass. “We should pay him a visit.”

  A cool breeze swept across the quiet street. Meriden’s house was inconveniently located: only several streets around the corner from the installation. Brock, Sarah and Ty were sprawled across the seats of a stolen dark blue Ford Mustang. Sarah pointed into an overgrown garden; dark green trees hid part of the house and shrubbery grew over the brick fence.

  “It’s the one with the blue door. He lives with his mother,” Sarah said.

  “I have a feeling this is going to go horribly wrong,” said Ty.

  “Me too. You mentioned he’s very by the book … that worries me, and my pistol is located somewhere at the bottom of the Thames,” Brock said.

  “Use your charms … I think he likes you. At least that was the impression I got that night at the party,” she said. “I can see why—you’re very attractive. However, a thought has just entered my head. He might be at work. If his mother answers the door, she might recognise us and try to call the police.”

  “Then we have to stop her,” said Ty.

  Brock started to open the Mustang door, but was startled by three men appearing out of thin air fast, approaching the car. Ty frantically rubbed the wires under the dash, firing up the engine, but one of the men pulled at the door while the other stepped in the road in fron
t of the Mustang, his back towards them.

  “Hello, Brock,” said a familiar voice.

  Meriden hovered over them, looking puzzled.

  Brock sighed with relief. “Hi. I need a big favour. Please.”

  “A favour? Did you see yourself on television? The news presenter said you’re a dangerous fugitive infiltrating our security services. CCTV shows you gate-crashing the security services conference south of the river and attempting to kill agents of her Majesty the Queen. And you need a favour?” said Meriden.

  “Meriden, it’s all lies. Please, help him, he’s desperate,” said Sarah.

  “Who are these two people in front of the car?” asked Brock.

  “I’ll need to think about it. This could get me into serious trouble. I’d go down for a long time, harbouring fugitives. Let me ask my mates to leave. We can go into the house.”

  Meriden stepped towards the two men, chatting to them for several minutes before both eventually walked up the street in the opposite direction.

  “Do you think his mates will grass us up?” whispered Ty.

  Brock shrugged, and Meriden edged around the car towards them, signalling them in the direction of the house. They all followed.

  “I’d like to apologise for running out of the house the other night at the party—” said Brock.

  “Lacy spiked his drink,” interrupted Sarah.

  “The television presenter warned the public to be vigilant. Said you’re all extremely dangerous. Lacy spiked his drink?” asked Meriden.

  They followed him into the green-patterned carpeted hallway to a room on the left. It was packed to the brim with books, and several pushbikes cluttered the walls. Model airplanes hovered over them, dangling from the ceiling. Ty shot a glance at Brock, trying to contain his laughter.

  “If my mum spots you, she’ll call the police. Someone stand against the door,” said Meriden.

  He wandered towards the end of the room and sprawled over a chair, sticking his feet on the crammed desk amongst computer parts and random papers. The thunder of someone coming down the stairs shook the room walls, but everyone remained silent.

  “Put your foot on the door, Brock. If she opens it and sees us, you’ll be in serious trouble. What exactly are you asking?”

  “We wondered if someone with your incredible knowledge and intelligence would be able to help us get some files out of this USB drive,” said Sarah.

  Brock nodded, holding the door handle tight and keeping his foot firmly in place. He threw the drive to Meriden and he inspected it, fiddling with it, pulling faces at it and staring into his computer screen.

  “Technically speaking, and in all probability, the data will still be stored on here. I could decipher it, pull the files over to my desktop and copy them to a new USB drive. Even if it is somewhat waterlogged. If the chip is corroded inside, though, it’s unlikely any technician would be able to access the data, depending on the damage.”

  They all stared at him as though he was some kind of scientist in a lab.

  “Luckily, I’m an expert. I’ll do what I can. You see, if I take the memory chip from the board inside the USB, I can try and jig it about so the files can be pulled. It’s possible, but depending on the corrosion, some files could be missing. Leave it with me and pop in, say, tomorrow morning.”

  Brock felt his body tense. “We need it now.”

  Meriden shrugged. “This is specialised work. I need time and I’m popping out with some acquaintances shortly. This is the best I can do.”

  Brock stepped over, snatching the drive back.

  “What choice do we have?” Sarah asked. “Leave it with him, collect it tomorrow as he says. He offered to fix it.”

  “You hardly know him, Sarah. Leaving something of this value while he is somewhere gallivanting could be dangerous,” said Brock.

  “Keep your voice down! If my mum hears you arguing like this, she’ll call the police station. Oh, what the hell …seeing as it’s you, Brock … Give it to me. I’ll do it now, but it’ll take a while.”

  Brock was sprawled across the floor next to one of Meriden’s pushbikes. Sarah was engaged in her usual agitated routine, insisting on fresh coffee to perk up her severe lack of caffeine. Meriden shouted to his mother to dish up four steamy cups of the stuff and she placed them next to the door shortly after.

  A couple of hours passed. Meriden ripped the drive apart piece by piece using the most fascinating, intricate tools, giving out a long-running commentary on everything he touched. Brock envisaged doing the whole damn job in five minutes, despite the component requiring extreme care. After all, he only required the little chip inside.

  Eventually, the grand finale arrive., Meriden slipped the tiny chip inside a small device he called a reader, anti-climatically plugging it into his computer.

  “Oh dear, I just need to bypass the password. Did you know it required such a thing? Funnily enough, this very thought came to mind as soon as you passed me the drive. This could be a serious problem.”

  “I may be able to hack my way in—” said Sarah.

  “Try Sphere,” interrupted Brock.

  Meriden tapped it in, shaking his head. Brock’s thoughts jumbled in desperation. He needed to crack the code; their lives depended on it. Words tumbled through his brain, seemingly with no connection to anything. “Try Ranstone Park, all one word!” he blurted out.

  Sarah stared at him, and Meriden tapped it into the computer. A blank box lit up on the computer screen, and moments later files appeared. Brock gasped as Meriden pulled open his desk drawer, revealing a large array of coloured USB drives. His eyes firmly on the screen, he reached in, grabbing one.

  “I’ll copy the files over to this fresh drive. They should transfer in a couple of minutes. What’s on these files anyway? Forgot to ask.”

  “Err, thank you. This means a lot to all of us. We appreciate your efforts. Maybe we can buy you a drink sometime,” said Sarah.

  Brock stepped from the door. “Any chance you could make three copies?”

  After a few minutes, Meriden passed three USB drives over to Brock.

  “Maybe we should view the files, you know, first, and get them sent to relevant parties, if you know what I mean,” said Sarah.

  The door burst open and Meriden’s mother appeared, clutching her dark blue dress, her grey hair wild.

  “I know who you animals are!” she shouted. “I’ve called the police. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes. Get away from my boy!”

  Brock clutched the wheel of the Mustang as he steered in the opposite direction of the installation. He was hyper-aware of the road ahead, and at the same time shaky. All three sat with their eyes forward, watching the road in complete silence, Brock was worried about Meriden and the fact he had downloaded the entire contents onto his computer. His promise to erase the files bothered him; it was likely he was viewing them right now. But showing them to the police might get him killed.

  He hit the accelerator. Spots of rain splashed onto the windscreen and he distracted himself by clicking the wipers, veering slightly into the curb.

  “Slow down,” Sarah cried out. “Police will be on every corner. You’ll grab their attention. Can I ask a question? Where exactly are we heading?”

  “Something sprang into my mind in Meriden’s house … something important, and I’d like to investigate further so we’re heading to—”

  He slammed his foot hard on the brakes and the Mustang skidded, coming to a sudden halt. He peered through the passenger window; Gunner stared directly back into the Ford Mustang. Brock urged Sarah to wind down the window and Gunner stepped across. He seemed speechless, eventually opening his mouth to speak.

  “What are you doing around here?”

  “Just chilling. I thought you lived in a flat across town,” said Brock.

  “Might be a good idea
to chill somewhere else. We should drive,” said Sarah.

  “Me, I work here now … fancy place around the corner. What’s going on, Brock? I’ve seen you guys on television,” said Gunner.

  “I’m in a tack of trouble. Do you have a computer by any chance?”

  “He sacked me, you know … Sergei. Truth is, I hated the place anyway. I was glad to leave. This new job is far more exciting. A lot more challenging.”

  A siren sounded and flashing blue lights filled the street heading right towards them. Brock ducked his head and the police unit sped past and into the distance.

  “It’s alright, you’re safe. The police have pulled into the junction ahead. I’m worried about you, Brock. All types of people keep asking a lot of questions. In fact, in the end, I’m glad that tosser Sergei sacked me. I’m sick of it. Even at the bloody gun range … the guy who shot Lacy is a long-standing member here. Miserable git pops in on a Tuesday night. Oh, what’s his name, Sighrus?”

  “Sighrus? Gun range? Where the hell are you working? Get in!” shouted Brock.

  Gunner jumped into the back and Brock hit the gas, swinging the Mustang around so fast it skidded across the road.

  “What these people are saying on television is rubbish. You know me very well. I’d appreciate a massive favour,” said Brock.

  “Yes, we need quick access to a computer. You have a laptop at home?” asked Sarah.

  “Sod the laptop,” Brock said. “How about getting us some guns? Can you by any chance dig up Sighrus’s home address? I’d love to pay him a visit.”

  “Suppose so. Might get into some trouble, though.”

  “Please, Gunner, I know I can rely on you. I’m desperate, and this monster Sighrus is a walking time bomb.”

  “You’re telling me. The minute I set my eyes on him I thought something was very off about him,” said Gunner.