Hudson rose, nervous. He was not good at breaking rules. He lumped down the stairs of the bus, carrying Grandma’s wicker basket. Three undercover Security Service Officers – ‘Suits’ – followed. The boys’ secret plan was to escort Grandma into the show for the bare minimum of time before being “free to do their own thing” and visit the museums for a couple of hours, or as free as one could be with the Suits hovering. But little did Grandma or the Suits know that hidden in the mouthpiece of Hudson’s asthma inhaler was the X1 nCraft – the Ugly Bug …
They’d bagged it the night before just after lights out. Finn had said, “Hudson. Don’t go to sleep yet. I’ve got an idea for tomorrow.”
“Is it about flowers?” said Hudson.
“No. Ever stolen a car?”
Later, after much debate and reassurance, Finn had directed Hudson to crawl below CCTV range in order to slip into Lab Three where they’d nabbed the Bug. They would both be in terrible trouble if they got caught but, as long as Hudson held his nerve and avoided a major asthma attack, they wouldn’t get caught.
For once Finn was going to be selfish. For once he was going to be free – even if just for an hour. They would find a way for him to board the Bug unseen and, while Hudson made his way around the Science Museum, Finn would fly around London – looping the Albert Hall, racing around Hyde Park and even dive-bombing the Changing of The Guard …
VROOOOOOM!
The moment Hudson and Grandma stepped off the bus Finn heard the screams of over-revved moped engines. In the microsecond blur before the first Vespa hit the curb and knocked Hudson flying, Finn saw all three Suits reach for their guns.
“Grandma!” Finn yelled, but before she could react everything went red, white and blue – SLAM – she hit the pavement and all Finn could hear was screaming, all he could see were shoes and smoke and tyres …
Vespas circled, engines buzzed, gushing out coloured smoke like the Red Arrows – one red, one white, one blue. Each moped was driven by a Tyro, each with a passenger, infrared visors giving them clear vision through the fog.
Kaparis caught sight of Hudson unconscious in the gutter. He could hardly believe it. His pulse leapt, his mouth watered … Drake. Why else would the Allenby woman be dragging the idiot Hudson around London except as a companion? He felt something bloom through his consciousness: Fate. He could almost smell the boy.
“Take her down fast! Get her into the container!”
Tzzzzzooft. Tzzzzzooft.
Silenced bullets spat from sidearms. Down went two of the Suits.
The third stood over Grandma to protect them, yelling into his radio. People on the street were scattering or screaming.
The three Vespa passengers dismounted. One aimed at the last Suit and shot out his knee. The Suit collapsed in agony but returned fire, felling one of the attackers.
Two remained. As they flipped up their visors Finn saw them. Identical twin girls, Thai, but with albino-white skin, flat eyes and fixed grins. One had a scar across her face, the other had chrome spikes sticking through pierced ears and lower lip.
“WHAT on EARTH do you think you are doing?” Grandma thundered at them from the ground.
For a moment they seemed surprised. Then, still grinning, they kicked themselves into the air to assault her.
With a sling-shot of her handbag – WHUMP – Grandma caught Scar in the solar plexis and sprang up. A snap pirouette (learned in the Miss Ellis Ballet School circa 1958) avoided Spike’s incoming fist and was followed up by a D’artagnon-like swipe of the umbrella – DOINK – across her throat.
There was a moment of relative calm as the twin attackers reeled at Grandma’s feet.
“Woah,” said Finn.
But then –
“Go Viper Four!”
Just behind the bus a street sweeper detached himself from his cart and ran towards Grandma, swinging his broom like a majorette, clipping Grandma’s ankles and sending her back to the pavement (she never expected such a thing from a local council employee). Spike and Scar seized her and sprayed something in her face.
“NO!” Finn cried as all three began to manhandle her into the street sweeper’s cart.
He kicked open the nDen and was immediately hit by a sweet chemical smell … then everything slowed down and went black.
Nobody noticed the street sweeper and his cart emerge from the smoke. His passage south was uninterrupted. When he reached the river he pushed the cart to the end of a jetty and transferred it to a waiting speedboat.
Moments later the boat was cutting through the grey-brown water of the Thames.
DAY TWO 18:38 (Local GMT+8), Roof of the World, Shanghai.
Al headed back up in the elevator surrounded by a team of Chinese State Security Officers who had appeared in alarm while he queued at the ice-cream van.
On the top floor King and Bo Zhang waited for him to arrive. King had been alerted to the misdemeanour – “Allenby has left the building! Without an escort!” – and had agreed to talk to him about his conduct. Eccentricity might be seen as a marker of genius (or just an annoying trait) in Britain, but in China it bore no such association.
Then an emergency call came in and King had to step back and pick up a phone.
The elevator doors slid open and Al stepped out.
“Doctor! I insist we follow security protocols!” said Bo Zhang in polished distress.
“Take a chill pill, or at least get yourself one of these,” said Al, indicating the ice-cream cone. “If we’re going to work together, you have to understand my only rule is – ‘there are no rules’. Frees up the mind,
