Jimmy Coates: Survival

“The PM has my dossier on that,” said Miss Bennett.

“The PM has read your dossier. But I’m afraid he’s been unwell. Everything goes through me for the time being.”

“You?” Miss Bennett was taken aback, but quickly hid it. Lee perused his files, then carried on as if Miss Bennett weren’t even there.

“Mutam-ul-it,” he announced. The strange word seemed to linger on his tongue and in the air. “I have a strong suspicion we’ll be going with that option. Have everybody on standby.”

He got up to leave and Eva was shocked at his height all over again. It was almost as if he’d grown during the meeting.

While he gathered his papers a thought struck him.

“By the way, did you see the memo about my predecessor’s memorial service tomorrow?”

“I see every memo,” Miss Bennett hissed.

“It’s at the Mercantile Marine Memorial,” he continued. “The PM is expecting everybody to be there. Paduk was his friend.”

“Of course we’ll be there,” said Mitchell. “Paduk was our friend too.”

“And one more thing,” Lee added, ignoring Mitchell’s annoyance. “What about this Jimmy Coates? Anything to worry about there?”

“The file is closed.” Miss Bennett pulled a slim brown folder from the middle of her pile and threw it across the table. One page slid out. In the top right corner was a grainy image of Jimmy’s face, next to yet another green stripe. Large red letters were stamped across his forehead. They read ‘TERMINATED’. Under that was typed ‘New York, USA’.

“I know all of this,” Lee snarled, looking down his nose at the file. “But do we have a body yet?”

“Another tasty meal for the fish,” Mitchell cut in with a smirk.

“There are no fish in the East River,” Lee said, reading the details more closely. “Too much pollution.” There was a moment’s pause, then he tossed the file back on to the table and shot an expectant look at the others. “Well?”

“We had divers trawl the river,” Miss Bennett explained with a sigh.

“No bodies?” asked Lee.

“Too many bodies actually.”

“Children?” Lee was shocked.

“This is New York we’re talking about.” Miss Bennett shrugged. “We’re not the only organisation to use children as operatives. There’s the Mafia, the Triads, the Capita…”

The thought made Eva’s skin crawl. Could there really be that many people in the world prepared to kill children, and to use children as killers?

“In any case, Jimmy could breathe underwater,” Mitchell put in. “He could have drifted miles before finally dying.”

Miss Bennett agreed. “The search area is far too big for us to cover,” she said with another shrug. “And without jurisdiction…”

“But we’re sure he’s dead,” Lee asked, stooping to lean one hand on the table. He and Miss Bennett stared at each other. She slowly nodded.

“That many bullets in him? We’re sure.”

Lee absorbed the information, nodded, then marched out without another word. Miss Bennett waved Mitchell out of the room as well. He gave her an awkward salute before he left and dropped a nervous glance at Eva.

Before Eva could follow the others, Miss Bennett held up a hand. She leaned to the centre of the table and tapped the stop button on the digital recorder. Concentration furrowed her brow.

“Find out about that man,” she whispered, without looking up.

“William Lee?” Eva frowned. “Find out what?”

“Everything. Where he’s come from, who he is and what he wants.”

“What he wants? What do you mean?”

“Everybody wants something.” Miss Bennett slowly tapped her finger on the table and raised her eyes to Eva. “If you find out what it is, you find their weakness.”

03 A WING AND A PRAYER

Jimmy Coates had been chased, kicked, shot at and throttled. He’d been blown up, nearly drowned in oil and set on fire. But it was the lies that had done the damage.

He shivered violently. Several hours at 10,000 metres was taking its toll. Without the climate control systems of a commercial jet, it was almost as cold as the Arctic. The Falcon wasn’t designed for it and Jimmy certainly wasn’t dressed for it. His jeans were ragged and torn, and his hoodie was too thin to provide any real insulation.

Keeping control of the plane was even more difficult now. He had to shift the flightstick with the weight of his shoulders because he couldn’t rely on the delicate touch of his fingers any more – he couldn’t even feel his fingers. Not only that, but soon his chest was straining for every breath. It felt as if each rib was barbed wire.

Despite the pain, all Jimmy could think about were the lies that had brought him here. First, the head of the CIA had tricked him into blowing up a British oil rig. He knew the British were blaming the French and were ready to strike back. Any second a war could start between France and Britain. It’s partly my fault, Jimmy thought. His stomach lurched and it wasn’t because of the turbulence.

His whole life had become a network of lies and secrets. Secrets like the fact that he was even alive. The British Secret Service thought they’d killed Jimmy in New York, but he’d tricked them and survived.

Lies like the ones his so-called father had told for twelve years, before revealing that Jimmy wasn’t really his son. Then Ian Coates had taken over as Prime Minister and issued the order to have Jimmy hunted down and killed.

Lies suit him, thought Jimmy. He’s a professional at it now.

Even I’m a lie, he thought.

38 per cent human. He could remember with cruel clarity the exact moment when he’d first heard those words. The intense dread rushed back to him. He’d discovered he was genetically designed by the Secret Service to grow as a seemingly normal child, but to develop the skills of the perfect assassin by the time he turned eighteen. He was to remain unnoticed by the rest of the world, while his true nature was kept secret even from himself.

But instead of waiting for Jimmy to grow up, the Government had sent him on a mission early. Theydidn’t even care that I’m a child, but they wanted me to kill. He couldn’t help imagining the terror he would have experienced if he’d gone through with the mission, instead of rejecting it at the last moment. That’s when NJ7 had turned on him.

Ever since, Jimmy’s assassin skills had been growing and causing nothing but distress. Now they might cause a war, he thought with horror.

Jimmy had been searching desperately for ways to prevent it. The simplest way seemed to be for him to reveal that he had blown up the oil rig – not the French. But to turn up in Britain now, alive, would bring all the heat from the Secret Service back on to him. I can take that, he thought. If it stops a war it must be worth it.

But he knew it wasn’t that simple. His mother, his sister and his best friend were in London. British agents watched over them every second. As soon as Jimmy revealed that he was still alive, the people he loved would be under threat again. At best they would be taken into custody. At worst… Jimmy didn’t dare imagine what nightmares NJ7 would put them through to extract information.

He shuddered and tried to focus all his energy on balancing the plane. But still his dilemma tore at him. It was simple: either he prevented a war, but left his family at the mercy of the Secret Service, or he could stay in hiding, protecting his family, but potentially destroying the fragile peace in Europe.

By now, Jimmy knew he was somewhere near the French-Spanish border, over the mountains. He had tuned the Falcon’s radio into the airbus’s communication system. On the seat next to him and across the floor of the cockpit, he had spread out all of the aeronautical charts he could find. Every signal to the airbus came with an automated verbal repetition – standard safety set-up on commercial flights. So Jimmy had picked up enough clues to work out the flight path. It was almost like Jimmy was listening to the plane’s thoughts.

And in his own head came the beginnings of an idea. France, he thought. Maybe that’s the answer… Could there be a way to keep his family safe and prevent war? Keep going, he told himself. The voice in his head was insistent, but his thoughts were muffled by the oxygen deprivation.

Jimmy was slowly suffocating. He realised he had to reduce his altitude, regardless of where he was. He flicked his eyes between the charts next to him and the nose of his plane, always watching and feeling for the constant adjustments in the airflow that was keeping him in the sky.