Brock Steele Sphere Page 24

  Brock pulled at her, rolling his eyes, and guided her towards the stairs. They stepped into her tiny room, and Sarah took a seat at the desk.

  “Is she Argentinian?”

  “I’m pleased for him, Brock said. “Do the lad good. Once he picks up the passports, they can cruise across the channel. He’ll be safe.”

  “Hang on, it’s her arranging the two passports. I remember him saying. She’s either an illegal immigrant or something more is going on.”

  “Forget them. Bring up the files, see what we missed.”

  The screen lit up, and Sarah pushed the small USB drive into the slot. They went through the files, meticulously reading every one.

  “Everything is here, like before. Anyone with a half a brain can see what’s going on,” said Sarah.

  A thunder of feet came from the stairs and the bedroom door flies open. Brock grabbed, Sarah pulling her to the ground and snatching his handgun. Ty appeared at the door.

  “It’s Meriden, he’s been killed. We’ve seen it on the TV. Guess what? They’re blaming you two.”

  “I reckon I know what’s happened,” Sarah said. “When I emailed the files, someone changed their contents. It’s only a hunch, but chances are this awful man is sitting waiting in some control centre, tracing the IP, anticipating our every move. This is exactly why we need to stop him.”

  “Can we be careful what we say around Rosa?” Ty said quietly. “She hasn’t got the full picture and she might panic.”

  Brock nodded and Ty stepped out onto the landing.

  “Ty, wait. Rosa should pack now ready to move out, for her safety.”

  He went back down the stairs. Sarah glanced up as Brock came back in the room.

  “I’m shooting these files over again, this time with a bigger pool of emails to important people. It should take me a while. Let’s see if this monster anticipates this.”

  Her hands shook as she anxiously attached the files, the email written up mentioning Lady Ranskill’s payoff. Rosa threw some clothes in a suitcase and Ty phoned a taxi from the bedroom phone. Mere minutes passed before she left.

  “Half her stuff is still hanging up. What did you say to her?” Brock asked Ty.

  “They don’t belong to her—she planned to leave today. The taxi is taking her to her mate’s house, and she’s meeting me at the ferry with the passports in a couple of days.”

  “One click of this button,” Sarah said, “and the email will be over to some very important people.”

  “Send it. Now I should like to head over to Richmond, on my own. I’m going to finish him off,” said Brock.

  Chapter 37

  The drive across London appeared unusually busy for that time of night; it was after 8 p.m. according to Sarah’s watch, and rush hour should have dispersed by now. Brock become aware of a police checkpoint set up directly ahead. There were probably more the whole city, looking for him. He swerved the car into a left turn, avoiding it.

  “You should let me do this on my own,” said Brock.

  “I’m confused why you have to do this at all. Once these emails circulate, Sighrus is history,” said Sarah.

  Brock shook his head. He drove as near as he dared to Sighrus’s house: no black jeep. Driving to the installation, nothing there either.

  “Where could he be this late?” said Ty.

  “Arrested perhaps? My work is done!” said Sarah.

  Brock reached into his pocket, pulling out the handgun. “I’m going to teach this creature a lesson, but something is bothering me.”

  He pushed himself further into his seat and watched several people leaving the installation. Probably cleaners, but no old woman. A few cars skimmed across their view and the installation appeared quiet.

  “If the authorities arrest Sighrus, all well and good. In the meantime, I’d like to check out this installation. If Sighrus is still walking the streets, his computer might hold clues as to where he is. As soon as I enter the car park their CCTV will likely pick me up. But I have an idea.”

  “The money, what about the money? If someone nicks this car we’re screwed.”

  “Stick it in the boot!” shouted Sarah.

  “There’s no need, I told you, I’m going on my own,” said Brock.

  “Like hell you are. I’m up for a fight, my country too,” she said.

  “It’s settled. I stay with the money,” said Ty.

  Brock stepped out of the red Nissan, heading towards the installation. Sarah followed behind, refusing to leave.

  “You trust your friend too much. I doubt he’ll be there on our return.”

  “You should have stayed with him. It’s not safe out here. Anyway, killing this rogue is more satisfying than a bag full of money. If you insist on being here, we’ll just have to take our chances.”

  Sarah looked at his adrenaline-flushed face. Slowly, both stepped onto the pavement next to the installation. The place was still quiet, and they headed directly towards the end of the building. A neatly dressed man in security attire leapt in front of them. Brock slid his hand into the back of his trousers, feeling around for the handgun.

  “Hey, Brock, I hardly recognised you! Long time no see. I’ve been off sick for months, only got back to work yesterday. Do you have your card to get in? You are coming in, aren’t you? Always the same here: you need your card to get into the building, you know the rules.”

  Brock took his hand off the gun and pulled his shoulders back like a soldier standing to attention. “Sorry to hear that, old chap. Me and my, err, colleague are popping in, I’ll show you my card.:”

  Brock dug his hand into his pocket as they all stepped towards the installation. His heart uncontrollably started to race as they neared the main entrance.

  “You must have finished all your sphere training by now,” said the security guard.

  “Sphere training programme.” He laughed as though a light in his head had been switched on. “Ages ago. Moved on now to the interesting stuff.”

  They reached the installation door.

  “Sure you have. I’ve lost track. Another set of trainees are starting the course.”

  “Do you know if Sighrus is around? I need to talk to him.”

  “Apparently he popped in this morning,” said the security guard.

  Brock pulled out Sighrus’s Sphere pass, banging it on a square metal surface in front of the door. A red light came on, and the security guard snatched the pass.

  “This belongs to Sighrus. What are you doing with it?”

  Brock’s hand grazed over the gun.

  “I’m aware of that. We’ve picked up each other’s passes by accident.”

  The security guard inspected the card closely. “This isn’t a gate pass, it’s his Sphere pass, to his room upstairs. Do you have his gate pass? And who’s your friend? Tell you what, forget it … it’s my first proper day back, we’re short-staffed and I know you. Just go in.”

  “Short-staffed?” said Sarah.

  “Something’s kicked off. I’m doing three jobs in one this evening. I’ll pass his card onto him.”

  Brock snatched the card back. “I’ll take, it if you don’t mind. I’ll probably see him first.”

  The guard hit his card onto the silver reader; the light flashed green and a buzzer sounded. Brock yanked the door open, nodding to the guard. Sarah followed him inside, running her trembling hand through her hair.

  “I’m so scared. This is a crazy idea,” she said.

  They entered into the amazingly big and spacious complex, grey metal girders running through the building. Brock racked his brains, glancing up at the high ceilings and doors leading off to rooms all over the place, seeing if it would jog any memories. The shooting range across the way caused a burning sensation on the left of Brock’s temple as though a magnifying glass was being pointed at it. Stepping much
deeper into the installation, Brock saw a grey door across the big corridor. It was different from the others, and his body froze up. Sarah was also staring towards the same door.

  “This is where they held me, inside there, I’m sure of it. Are you alright?”

  “Feeling a little sick and my head’s going a little funny. This place is giving me a cold eerie feeling just being here. Downstairs is an underground basement complex, and the lift across there … I remember someone dragged me in and pushed me to the ground. But I’m still sure I was here of my own free will. It’s starting to come back. Sighrus’s room is upstairs on the second floor. Let’s take a look.”

  As they climbed up the grey metal stairs, paint flaked from the matt emulsion grey walls. When they reached the top, Brock pushed his body into the grey double doors and headed left down the corridor, stopping at Sighrus’s room and slamming the card onto the reader. The light on the reader flashed red. Sarah leaned over his shoulder peering at it. He pushed her away, barrelling into the door several times, and it flung open into a boring grey office. A security officer came running from the other side of the bleak grey corridor. Brock held Sighrus’s card in the air. “I’m on official business.”

  The security guard nodded and retreated. Brock grabbed Sarah, pulling her into the office and slamming the door behind them. Inside, a computer sat on the beech-effect desk; behind it, a black leather swivel chair. An aroma of new paint filled the air. Recently decorated, unlike the rest of the building.

  There was a metal tray full of letters and random notes were scattered the desk. A picture of Sighrus and his family faced Brock head-on.

  Sarah swung her body into the chair, clicking the mouse. Screens flashed by one by one until all the programs had loaded and a box came up for user credentials. Her fingers whizzed across the keyboard as she attempted to bypass his security password. After entering some different credentials, she was through, and the screen came up. She had tapped into his account. Brock peered over her. Every instinct, every message from the brain, was telling him to get out.

  “What are we looking for?” she asked.

  “Something we’re both missing. At the very least, it might incriminate him further or jog a few memories,” said Brock.

  He stepped over to the window, peering out.

  “It’s bothering me … it’s too quiet here.”

  A rattle in the hallway startled him, and he edged to the doorway, reaching for the gun. “Sarah, we have company,” he whispered.

  She glanced up just as the door flung open. Sighrus appeared in the doorway, staring right towards her and pointing his standard-issue Glock against her head. Brock threw out a kick. It hit Sighrus’s hands, knocking the Glock to the other side of the room. Brock lunged into Sighrus’s side, knocking him flat on the floor. Sarah jumped towards the Glock, picking it up and pointing it directly at him. Brock kicked the door closed.

  “It’s payback time, And I know what you’re planning,” said Brock.

  Sighrus pulled himself and forced out a laugh. “It’s over, Mr Steele. Men are all over this complex. Give yourself up and we can talk—or die.”

  “No, Sighrus, it’s over for you this time. Screwing with someone like me is your biggest mistake. You think we’re going to allow you to unleash a virus and other damage you are planning on our country? You must be stupid.”

  “Shame, you’re a decent agent, probably one of the best I’ve trained. Problem is, you’re a little too damn good, but you underestimate me. This entire complex is surrounded by our armed security agents, and they’re on my side. I suggest you drop your weapons or you will be killed instantly. It’s the only way, Mr Steele.”

  Sarah stood up, stepping towards him. “This man standing here will stop you screwing up our country. He’s a gentleman, unlike you, and we’re both prepared to die for our country to stop you. Tell your men to stand down or I will personally blow your disgusting head off!”

  “Ah, Sarah, thinking you would get the better of me. Chances are if you kill me you both die too. Do you want to die?” asked Sighrus.

  Brock aimed the gun towards Sighrus’s, leg sliding his finger across the trigger. He pulled the catch and released a bullet, which caught the top of the skin on Sighrus’s thigh. He screamed, and Brock lifts the handgun towards his head. Shouting echoed in the corridor. Sarah nodded towards the window, and Brock moved towards it, still pointing the gun towards Sighrus. He glanced through the window, flicking its catch, pushing it open.

  “Ah, looks like your men are all in the building now. Sarah, climb down here,” said Brock.

  Sarah climbed out the window, and Brock followed, pointing his handgun towards Sighrus . The door flew open and bulleted spray towards him; Brock slipped from the window, pressing the trigger. Sarah was halfway down the drainpipe as Brock slammed to the ground, landing on his shoulder. He heard Sighrus shouting. Pulling himself up, rubbing his shoulder, Sarah jumped into his arms and they darted towards the car. “I pulled the trigger and missed. That monster is still breathing,” he muttered.

  A couple of security service agents sprinted after them, spraying bullets towards them. Sarah cried as they darted across the road. As they turned into the street, eagerly expecting the car, an empty space greeted them.

  Chapter 38

  Brock stared into the road where the red Nissan should have been. Shouting erupted in the distance and Sarah pulled at her hair with her trembling hands. He looked frantically up and down the street. A yellow taxi was heading towards them, and for a flash he imagined Ty driving it. He picked up a brick at the roadside, stepped up to the car, and slammed it into the driver’s side window, grabbing at the man and pulling him right out of the car. He threw him so far, the man landed across the pavement.

  Sarah was frozen on the spot, so he snatched her, pulling her into the car. The engine still running, he hooked his hand around the wheel, pulling it swiftly, turning the yellow taxi around. He slammed down hard on the accelerator and, in his rear-view mirror, he saw the red-faced driver sticking his fingers at him; behind, several men on foot were attempting to chase the taxi, gradually slowing down.

  Sarah shook as she sat quietly in the passenger seat, sniffling. Brock swerved into the next junction, noticing men in all sorts of undercover attire leaping into cars and screaming at him, guns in the air. A silver Audi pulled out directly behind him at speed, and to his left, the black jeep slammed out of a junction on his right.

  Sighrus, being a highly trained driver, swerved around the silver Audi, positioning his black jeep directly behind Brock as he headed for central London. The speedometer hit a hundred miles per hour, and the car shook. Sarah struggled to catch her breath as she peered through the window, clutching onto her seat.

  The taxi zipped through a set of traffic lights causing an oncoming car to swerve and hit a lamppost. Brock checked his rear-view mirror again; several cars, including a police unit were following, the black jeep still firmly behind. A bullet smashed into the back window; Sarah yelled, ducking forward. Several cars hovered in the distance, waiting for the traffic lights to change. As Brock approached, he slammed on his brakes, swinging the yellow taxi onto the pavement to overtake them. The black jeep followed, mounting the pavement.

  “Sarah, I have an idea. Grab my jacket and the paper bag on the floor. Oh, and do you have any lipstick on you?” he shouted. She looked at him blankly.

  As they turned the corner, Brock slammed on the brakes—hard. Sarah opened the taxi door, jumping out into some bushes. In the passenger seat sat a made-up dummy of her: his jacket, a blown-up paper bag, and a dash of lipstick making it appear like a face. Brock sped into the junction ahead, the black jeep firmly behind and the other cars following. It had worked. Sarah was now, free and he sped down the main road at one hundred miles per hour, taking full control of the car.

  As he approached London, he headed for Vauxhall Bridge at high s
peed. But when he saw it, he was distracted and lost control, slamming on the brakes. The car smashed into a brick wall. He pulled at the door catch; the door was jammed. Winding down the window, he jumped out, sprinting away.

  The black jeep skidded alongside him and three men jumped out, scuttling towards him—one of them Sighrus. One of the men drew close, smashing his gun over Brock’s head. Sighrus limped over, throwing a punch into the left side of Brock’s temple that slammed him into the ground.

  “Give it up, Mr Steele.” Sighrus yanked out his Glock. “You’re quite a killer and a wanted man, according to the press,” said Sighrus.

  “You set me up,” spat Brock.

  A sharp pain ran down the back of Brock’s temple and the aching pain in his stomach from a well-aimed kick made him retch. Sighrus turned to one of his men, giving him an order to get some restraints out of the jeep. Brock slowly moved his body, pulling himself forward. He hauled himself up, throwing a punch towards Sighrus’s face. Sighrus ducked sideways, the punch missed, and he kicked Brock in the stomach again, knocking him violently to the ground.

  “Mr Steele, you’re in a lot of trouble and I still require the USB. Where is it?”

  “USB? But—”

  “You think those files transferred over, do you? Oh, Mr Steele, your IP address in that fancy little apartment of yours in Canary Wharf was tapped. Good old Jeanette Ranskill popped by. Wonderful woman, I must say. I gathered your inquisitiveness would get the better of you, and that you would visit the property and send the files there. So, I waited. As soon as you flung this disgusting email across, my trainees went to work attaching some rather compromising files about you, MI5 already believed you to be a big traitor, I made sure. I’ve laughed ever since. You made an even bigger fool of yourself.”

  Brock tried to disguise his smile. “OK, you win. I have the USB and you can have it. It’s carefully hidden, so perhaps we can do a deal. Payoff perhaps?”

  “On the contrary, Brock, I gather you have the money. You see, I had agents watching you. Standard procedure of course. You withdrew a considerable amount of cash from your bank account and seemed to be shutting your life down. Immediately, it aroused my suspicions, and after a few tapped phone calls, I clicked. You planned to discredit me, and if I came up trumps, grab your life savings and run.”