6
He found it amusing that he had been cuffed after the flight to England, not during it. Had he been so inclined, he could have caused the men guarding him several problems.
It was raining, he noted, though he'd heard that was a near-permanent weather condition in the former United Kingdom. The guards led him to a pillar, telling him not to run away while they ran his papers. He didn't even bother to ask them where was he going to go with handcuffs on. Eventually, he was led to a small room, and told to wait outside.
Inside he could hear a man's voice, a slippery American accent. "I'm going to ask you again, and if you refuse to co-operate, I will have to persuade you to talk. What was your mother's screen name?"
"I don't know!" The reply was a girl's voice, English accented, shrill with worry and frustration. "I'd tell you if I knew! I want her back as much as you do!"
"Do you know her email address? Her passwords?"
"No! I -" The girl broke off with a gasp, as though she were in pain.
The male voice came again. "One last chance..."
The boy's eyes narrowed, and he rose to his feet. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was the fucking suits harassing kids. He tested the knob, and found that it was locked. Well, fuck that. He braced himself, then slammed his full weight against it, counting on the general flimsiness of government-funded buildings to work for him.
It did.
The door fell off its hinges to reveal not one, but two suited tall men crowding around a girl, maybe eight or nine years old, her features marking her as half-Asian. The suited man released his grip on the girl's jacket and turned to face the vandal. The girl dropped onto the bench, her large dark eyes focused on him as well.
His own eyes narrowed. "Hey, assholes," he snarled angrily. "Lay off th' kid, else I'll put ya through a hurtin' so bad yo' whole fam'ly'll feel it, cuffs or no cuffs."
The suited man's face remained impassive behind his shades. The girl blinked. The man put and hand to his ear piece and listened a moment, then nodded at his sidekick and strode out past him without another word.
The kid slumped, exhaling unsteadily. "Thanks..."
He looked at her, noting tear-tracks on her face. A bit awkwardly - he wasn't used to kids - he walked to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, kid, don' worry. I'll keep ya safe, I promise."
The girl shot him a grateful look, scrubbing her eyes with her fists. "Who are you?" she asked presently.
He hesitated, wondering if she had noticed the cuffs. "Greene," he said at last. "Quentin Greene."
She offered her hand to shake. "I'm Arin White. Pleased to meet you, Quentin."
After another moment's hesitation, he took her small hand in his right hand, wincing as his left hand followed the right. "Nice ta meetcha too."
She looked from the cuffs to his face. "Are you a convict?"
"Yeah," he said softly. "I was forced inta runnin' drugs. Back home, they don' really take that inta consideration," 'specially if you've a prior conviction, he didn't add.
"That's horrible... Forcing people to do things is just wrong. Why do people never get a choice?" She seemed to be incredibly angry about something, but unsure of how to express it; her eyes shone with wetness in the dim light.
Hesitantly, he looped his arms around her and gave her a gentle hug. "I was jus' dumped in a bad foster home. Victim o' circumstance. Don' cry, a'ight?" Casting about for a subject change, he asked, "They didn' hurt ya too badly, did they?"
She shook her head, "No, they were just questioning me about my mother, again. How does her screen name have any effect on the fact that she's gone?" She wiped her eyes, clenching her teeth to stop the flow. "She's gone, and I don't know why..."
Screen name? Why in the hell would American suits want some British - or Asian - lady's screen name? he wondered, keeping the girl in a gentle hug. He was surprised that nobody'd come to try and separate her from the 'dangerous criminal' yet. "'Again?' When'd she disappear?"
"Yesterday. When I woke up she was gone, and she's not come back yet. They had me in an interrogation thingy all day, and I had to sleep in the flat by myself." She shivered in his arms, instinctively clinging to the comfort. "My mum and dad are separated, so I suppose I'll have to move in with him and his girlfriend. But I don't want to."
"Well, I'd offa t' let ya stay wit' me, but I dunno what th' hell they're plannin' on doin' wit' me. I doubt they'd letcha stay wit' me anyway." He awkwardly stroked her dark hair. "But I'll try ta keep an eye on ya, if ya want."
She nodded, "Thank you. Somehow it just feels right..."
He smiled. "I know whatcha mean." He had since sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and waiting for someone to notice the door knocked from its hinges and the child hugging the convict inside. After awhile, her breathing became slow and even, and he realised she had fallen asleep in his arms.
Well, at least somebody trusts me, he thought, smiling a little.
Arin awoke as the jeep lurched to a halt in a deserted car park. A fine rain was falling; vapour obscured the windows. She nestled into Cue's enveloping arms and groaned sleepily. Cue was still asleep, though he had mumbled something along the lines of 'know what you mean.' In the passenger seat, Kitty looked at Aries, wondering where they were.
"Welcome to Cambridge," announced the blond program shortly, switching off the engine but leaving the battery running. The dash clock read 3:06. Aries shot a glance at the other program. "How are you doing for time?"
She checked her watch. "Pretty good; it's 10:06 or so in the evening back home." Cue had awakened when the engine stopped.
"We there yet?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.
Arin stirred, sitting up slightly. "Yep." She yawned, rubbing her eyes furiously.
Aries reached back and ruffled her hair. "Go back to sleep," he advised. "I'll contact Scorpius in the morning. There's not much to see here, anyway."
Cue was wide awake at the mention of his contact. "So we're staying with the jeep, then?" he asked. God, but his shoulder hurt. He should've swiped some pain meds when they left the hospital. Hell, he was surprised they'd let him walk out with Arin without trying to force him into a wheelchair. It seemed to be a rule in hospitals worldwide that patients couldn't walk out: someone might think they were cured.
Aries flicked on the radio, which cut in to the middle of a news report. "... in Namibia. Robert White was trampled to death whilst filming a riot in the capital city of Windhoek. Sarah Henderson has the full report from Namibia..."
Arin sat up very suddenly, the colour draining from her face. A female voice went on, "The BBC cameraman was part of a convoy of journalists sending regular reports of the disturbances here. When the riot broke out early yesterday evening, Mr White was in the thick of it. It is believed that..."
Aries switched it off quickly, seeing Arin's face. "What is it?"
Cue's eyes were wide. "Robert White is her father."
Arin couldn't look at anyone. "That's not true," she whispered, "It can't be..." Kitty had swivelled in her seat to look at the girl; Cue's hold on her tightened. First Calloway and Wingless, and now this…
Arin was shaking her head, her mind trying to comprehend what the reporter had said. "It's not true," she repeated, biting her lip.
Aries stared straight ahead: a youngster about to go into shock was not something he was experienced in dealing with. He reasoned it would fade. Eventually.
Cue shifted in his seat, gently cupping Arin's face in his hands. "Look at me," he ordered her softly. "It is true, or it wouldn't have made an early-morning news report. I hate to say it, but he's gone, kid."
Arin dropped her gaze from his eyes. "It's too much. Miss Calloway's kidnap, Wingless at the flat, and now this..."
He gripped her chin and tilted her head up until she was looking at him again. "I told you to look at me, Arin. Things like this can and do happen all at once. It's just bad luck that it's all happening to you. That doesn't mean you can deny it, kid. Shit happens, and there isn't much we can do other than accept it and move on. Welcome to the real world."
Aries and Kitty exchanged a glance.
Arin blinked; a tear fell from her eyelashes and slipped down her cheek. Eventually she nodded.
The light rain had grown heavier, hammering down on the jeep. Arin pressed her fists into her eyes, resolving not to cry. There was no point: crying wouldn't help. She blinked bright patches of colour from her vision and took a deep breath. "Thanks, Cue."
He nodded, releasing her chin and pulling her into a protective hug. She still had him, at least.
Kitty looked at Aries. "Now what?" she asked quietly.
Aries shrugged. "We could go for a walk, I suppose." He peered out at the rain. A thought struck him, "Where did that Sparrow character get to? He was supposed to catch us up..."
Cue heard that. "As if the songbird would leave his precious computer behind for the Feds to look at? He's probably packing essentials and getting rid of the flat."
"Getting rid?" echoed Aries curiously. "Selling it on, you mean?"
"Yeah. That may take him a bit, though; he'll be wanting cash. Cheaper for the buyer, but harder to gather the money. Sparrow's very careful to not leave paper or electronic trails."
"Sounds like someone who prefers to stay away from law enforcement," Kitty mused.
"Yeah, that's him to a T."
Briefly wondering where on earth that expression came from, Aries looked into the back again. "How's your shoulder doing?"
"Let's just say I should've swiped some pain meds and leave it at that," Cue replied, looking worriedly at Arin.
Arin raised her head, "Kathryn, check the glove compartment for pain-killers."
"Call me Kitty, everyone does," she said as she opened the glove compartment, muttering something about the wrong side as she did. "Well, I'll be damned." She removed a tube of ibuprofen from it and passed it back. "Prescription stuff; should be strong."
Cue took one gratefully, then looked at the bottle. "Shit."
"What?" Arin looked from him to the bottle and back again.
"We borrowed this sucker from a runner. I recognise the signs." He grinned. "Serves 'em right for busting my chip."
"So this jeep was used by drug runners?" repeated Aries incredulously.
"Small world," muttered Arin.
"Yeah. And that doesn't mean that they were from the group that had me, Arin. Odds are they aren't; that group's been broken up and either deported or tossed in hard labour camps."
"So that might not be painkiller?" asked Arin, squinting at the pills.
"Oh, they're painkillers all right. But it ain't nobody's ibuprofen." He thought for a moment. "Oxycodone," he said at last. "Bad, bad runners… if taken wrong, this stuff can be lethal."
Kitty whirled in her seat, staring at him with wide eyes; before Arin could say anything, he added, "Relax, it's a swallow-pill, and I swallowed it. However, to be on the safe side, I'm gonna need some water."
Arin leant over to dig in her rucksack, and produced a half-full bottle of Evian. She passed it to him, "Tap water okay?"
"Perfect."
Kitty watched Cue curiously as he drained the bottle in two gulps, then asked, "How'd you know all that?"
He shrugged. "Used to be a runner. They hammered all that junk into us in case we ever took it into our heads to start experimenting. Kid ODs, there's gonna be questions. They were covering their asses."
"They de-chipped you?" questioned Aries. They had time to waste; he might as well find out more about them.
"Later, when I was sixteen. For some reason, they decided they wanted me back and so they came to Britain to get me. I don't like talking about it." And for good reason, too - the bastards had nearly killed Arin.
"You were forced into drug running?" Aries shot a concerned glance at Arin, who was curled up against Cue and shivering slightly. "Are you cold?"
Arin looked up after a beat, shaking her head. "Not really."
Nevertheless, Aries flicked the heater on the second setting, and warm air streamed through the vents.
"It's a long story," Cue said, "and it's all in the past, anyway." A not-too-subtle hint to drop it.
Aries took the hint with a quick flick of his brows.
The transaction completed, Sparrowhawk watched the man who called himself Jack vanish. The rebel glared at him as he did so, his left eye black and swollen. Sparrow had meant what he'd said about one of them getting hit. He'd backed up his information to a single waterproof flash drive, which he then stored in a pocket inside his vest before wiping his computer clean. As an extra precaution, he reformatted the hard drive as well.
Sparrow was not taking any chances.
Arin's slice of pizza had hovered above the carpet for going on three hours. Unfortunately, the sugar packet was less lucky. It dropped from the ceiling where the girl had slung it and burst, spilling sugar over the linoleum.
"Solkin syn!!" Sparrow kicked the pizza slice from the air and caught it in his hand so as not to look entirely suspicious. "Now what!?"
The front door lay in a splintered mess on the floor, otherwise the three suited men would have knocked. As it was, the leader stepped into the room, his shoes thudding on the wood. "Mikhail Romanov?"
He glared at them all. "It's two-freaking-thirty in the morning," he growled, a Russian tinge to his accent now. "What the hell could you possibly want?"
"Please, Mr Romanov, this is an emergency. A file recently downloaded by an acquaintance of yours contained a very dangerous Trojan attachment. We need access to your computer."
One of the three stalked across to the window and peered out, feigning boredom. The other remained in the doorway, while the first started towards the computer.
He tried, he really did, but he just couldn't stifle his derisive snort. "Do you really want to play that game with me?"
The suit looked at him, his expressionless face creasing into a slight frown. "Mr Romanov, you will appreciate our concern for the safety of the country. I will be checking this computer." His gaze slid to the slice of pizza in Sparrow's hand.
"What? I had a late night, I got hungry. That a crime?" Sparrow's eyes were narrowed, noting that one suit had blocked the window while the other was lingering in the doorway. Escape routes cut off… though the kitchen window might work, if he were to go up…
The lead suit resumed his course towards the computer, daring Sparrow to resist. "Have you made any phone calls tonight, Mr Romanov?"
"A few," he said evasively. "But I've got a cable modem anyway, not dial-up; what have my phone calls to do with my computer?"
"We have reason to believe you are connected with an extremely dangerous group of people." The suit took a seat on the swivel chair and booted up the PC. "Once the Trojan is destroyed, we will require to talk to you about certain... events." Once more, the suit glanced to the pizza, then to the spilt sugar.
Warning bells went off in Sparrow's head. "Really," he drawled.
"We have also received a report that indicates your flat was broken into at around eleven-forty."
"Yeah, well, it's been a bitch of a night." He glared pointedly at his lack of a front door.
"Not that event, Mr Romanov." The suit opened up an MS-DOS window and entered a long and complex command. "I refer to the stabbing of your flatmate, one Quentin Greene. The attacker is of great interest to us - we would be especially glad if you would answer a few questions."
"I'm really not in the mood for an interrogation," he said, stalling a bit. Fuck Wingless, anyway. "And I wasn't there when it happened. I just got a call from the hospital telling me that he'd recover."
The Suit turned back the screen, and hammered the keyboard rapidly. "Hmmm. Well it seems, Mr Romanov, that your hard drive has been formatted." He swivelled again and stood. "It seems we were too late to catch the Trojan; however..." The gaze flew again to the sugar. "There are still questions we need to ask you."
"Well, if I'd known you were coming, I'd've tidied up the place," he quipped, his eyes flicking between the trio. His fight-or-flight instinct had kicked in, and fight had been burned out of him years ago.
The Suit stood, powering down the computer. "Have you previously noticed anything strange about your telephone line, Mr Romanov?"
The suit at the door moved to examine the cordless set-up on the table.
Free path.
Sparrow bolted, checking his vest pocket to be sure he still had the flash drive as he went. He was tall, but he had quick-enough reflexes to avoid being grabbed.
The first suit's hand flew to his earpiece, and within three seconds he was out of the doorway, closely followed by his companions. They charged after Sparrow with the kind of agility men only dream of.
Well, that confirmed his theory that these guys were programs. Sparrow didn't bother with several of the bottom steps for the three landings, just jumping in order to gain distance.
The suits barely slowed; one of them vaulted a banister entirely to gain an extra flight of stairs.
Shit! Sparrow burst out the door, glad he'd thought to park nearby. He slid into the driver's seat and started the car, tearing out of the parking lot before he thought to close the door. "Catch me now, why don't you?" he muttered.
Rule one: never tempt fate when Feds are around.
Sparrow learned this very quickly as his rear tyres were punctured by a hail of well-aimed bullets from three semi-automatics.
"Fuck me!" He managed to keep the car from off-roading, but it was a near thing. Oh, he was screwed… unless he could get to the water. It was a last-ditch plan, and not very bright, but he had no other choice. If he could keep from losing control for five minutes…
Behind him, the black Sedan came to life. More gunshots sounded, and bullets punctured the rear of the Corvette. Sparrow instinctively ducked. It looked like he'd need a new car, too. Bastards. Fighting his protesting vehicle, he drove towards the Thames, hoping it would last him long enough.
The driver held a hand to his ear piece again, then spun the car onto the pavement. The three of them got out in sync and simply watched the battered Corvette on its route towards the river.
Sparrow stopped the car, wondering why they'd stopped chasing him. He stumbled out, nearly cracking his head on the top of the door frame, and paused to take a breather. "Jesus," he muttered. "Welcome to the Twilight Zone."
The river was calm, sloshing gently against the concrete banks. The sound of accelerating footsteps echoed down the alley. "Scheiße," he hissed. "Don't they ever give up?" He looked towards the river, then back towards where the sedan had stopped. The suited men broke into a sprint, appearing from the gloom like avenging angels. Their guns were holstered, though.
Sparrow made a snap-decision and jumped.
He didn't count on catching his shoe on the low fence, causing him to hit his head on the concrete before his body rolled into the water. The blow was enough to knock his glasses from his face and knock him unconscious; his scrawny frame sank slowly out of sight.
The three Agents slowed to a stop and watched him sink into the murky water. "Estimated river depth?"
"Five-point-seven metres."
"He will drown then."
"Hopefully."
"What about the hard line?"
"We will deal with that later."
They turned away from the Thames and set a course back to the car.
Sparrow's limp form sank beneath the river, bumping gently onto the bottom. Precious air bubbled up from inside his clothing.
From the other bank, something stirred in the water, tendrils of weed wafting in the current. It propelled itself easily across the width of the river and studied him curiously. It tugged on his arms, swimming upwards, persuading him gently towards the surface.
His head broke the surface, and his unconscious body seemed to recognise that it could again breathe; his mouth opened and air rushed into his lungs. His eyelids fluttered, he seemed to be regaining consciousness.
Sparrow was hoisted back out onto the bank, one arm draping into the water. A face peered at him from the water level: two large, almond-shaped eyes set in a strangely bluish face. Slowly, his own grey eyes opened, blinking twice before focusing on her face. "S'all blurry," he mumbled in German, then coughed.
The face tilted to the side as she translated, then she grinned and replied in French-accented German. "Are you all right?"
He nodded and winced. "Head hurts…"
She laughed - a sound curiously akin to running water. "You had a bad fall. You were being chased, right?" Her eyes intensified, focusing on his face.
Chased… yes, that was right… three men in suits… Agents!
His brain lurched into gear as he sat up quickly. "Shit! The Agents-- !"
She reached up with long arms and grabbed him, "Calm down! They left after you fell in." She released him and folded her arms on the bank. The cold air spread goose bumps over her bare arms, and long dark hair spilled over her shoulders in loose waves.
Sparrowhawk let out a long breath, then winced and put a hand to his aching head. "Ow, ow, ow…" He looked at the girl, wondering why she was blurry, then blinked and touched his face. "Aw, shit," he observed. His glasses were gone.
"Do you need these?" She sounded puzzled, and a little disappointed. She held up him glasses; a crack ran through the right hand lens from the fall. He squinted, then grabbed. "Yes, thank you." He put them on, glared at the crack, and closed his right eye before looking at her.
Her eyes went wide, and she blushed. With the world in focus, her face was rounded and finely featured, almost Asian. Her skin gleamed with water in the dim light; a pale blue colour. She wore no visible clothing to speak of...
Sparrow blinked, coughed, and politely kept his eyes on her face. "I'm called Sparrowhawk," he said, offering her a hand.
Her touch was cold and slightly clammy. "My name is Shasa."
"Pretty name," he said offhandedly. "I owe you my life, Shasa. Thank you."
She averted her eyes and flushed again. "It was nothing; I couldn't have you drowning in my river, could I?" Immediately, her gaze flew to his face, while her hand flew to her mouth. "I mean..."
"Your riv…," he gave her a closer look. "Oh. Damn, you people are everywhere tonight."
"You know?" She flicked her tail excitedly. Not often did the river program meet an ex-battery...
He nodded. "I know a lot more than I should." He shot a glance to his aching right hand, which he'd bruised punching Jack in the face. Damn, but that'd felt good.
The mermaid tilted her head again. "So what are you going to do now, Sparrowhawk?"
He frowned. "Walk, I guess. The Agents trashed my ride."
"Walk where?"
"No idea. Somewhere far from London; city isn't safe anymore. Eh, never liked it anyway."
"You could follow the river," suggested the program, non-too subtly.
Sparrow considered this. The river didn't go the way he was heading, but if he did follow it, it could throw the Agents off Cue's trail… and he did owe his flatmate. "Why not? It's as good a route as any."
Shasa grinned in the eerie reflected light from the water. "I'll come with you. It gets very lonely down here most nights..."
Ooookay… nice girl, but I'm going to have to ditch her, Sparrow thought, eyeing her. Too dangerous for Ariel there to be liking me as much as she seems to.
The mermaid didn't seem to notice his unease - rather her flirting intensified. She vanished into the water, and then surfaced in a dolphin-leap. "Very nice," he said, his eyes darting about to see if she'd been noticed. He didn't want to be responsible for someone getting killed - directly, anyway.
"Thank you." Luckily the river banks were deserted. A decent distance further down the river, the bells of Big Ben clumsily rang the hour. Two-forty-five am. The program stuck her head up. "Happy Sunday, Sparrowhawk!"
"Happy Sunday," he replied distractedly, patting his vest. Good, he still had his flash drive, but his book was…
He pulled the paperback out and looked at it mournfully. "Ruined."
"Awww…" Drat - a bookworm. How's he supposed to dote on me when he has fictional characters to worship? Shasa went into a slight huff, and remained silent for a good few minutes.
Sparrow scarcely noticed. He almost tossed the book back into the river but checked himself, recalling his flirty, aquatic saviour might not appreciate that. With a sigh, he tossed it in the dustbin and made a mental note to get a new one ASAP. "Time to head out, I suppose."
"Head out?" she echoed, stopping abruptly.
"You know, start moving," Sparrow said, looking at her. "I'd rather not stay here and get attacked by Agents again." He'd taken off his vest, slipping the flash drive in his pants pocket when she wasn't looking, and was now wringing the water out of it.
Shasa stared at, and then through, the transparent white material, her mouth dropping slightly open. "Will you not hide in the river?" she asked, attempting and failing to keep the desperation from her voice.
"If need be. I don't swim well, and humans aren't meant to stay in the water for prolonged periods of time."
"So you will?!"
"If Agents show up. I need to dry off, and like I said, staying in the water too long could have some adverse side-effects on me." Wingless is almost preferable in comparison to this girl… dear God, how long has she been alone?
"I'll wait for you. Take care!" Shasa blew him a watery kiss.
He waved a bit and started walking, mumbling under his breath.
Shasa waved him off, an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on her features. Then she dived easily and disappeared.
She swam quickly through a large pipe and broke the surface of the water. The pipe had originally been waste disposal, but Thames Water soon stopped that. There was a small shelf of concrete here, and the mermaid heaved herself up onto it. She grabbed the mobile phone and dialled her employer.
"Allo?"
"It's Shasa; a human named Sparrowhawk has just evaded Agents by jumping into the Thames. He's now following the river east."
"Bon travail, Shasa! Follow him as much as you can, then report back to me. I'm sending someone over there now to help you."
Shasa grinned slyly, and hung up.