Jimmy Coates: Blackout

“Everything OK?” It was Saffron Walden. She’d appeared at the door, wrapped in a full-length black dressing gown. Jimmy turned to look at her, amazed that she could seem so poised and so beautiful when she’d obviously just been woken up in the middle of the night.

“Just Chris being weird again,” said Felix quickly.

“And these two running off to who-knows-where,” Helen added.

Saffron nodded slowly.

“Chris being weird isn’t news to me,” she said softly. Her voice seemed as smooth as her skin, and had some of the same darkness.

“Do you think we should, erm, keep him under surveillance?” said Felix quickly.

Jimmy smiled. He was always impressed by Felix’s ability to distract attention from anything that could get him into trouble – and as long as they were talking about Viggo, they couldn’t talk about Jimmy, Felix and Georgie sneaking off together.

“I know he has a lot on his mind,” Jimmy joined in, “but he’s kept so many secrets from us. He hardly talks to us any more.”

Saffron and Helen looked at each other, but Jimmy couldn’t read their expressions.

“It’s the money that worries me,” admitted Saffron. “You might be right, Felix. We might need to keep an eye on him – for his own safety. I don’t know how well we can trust his campaign staff or even his security guards. Everybody was hired in such a hurry.”

“We’ve come this far without any problems,” said Helen, now eyeing up Jimmy and Felix, as if to tell them she hadn’t forgotten they were in trouble. But so far, Jimmy thought, Felix’s distraction technique was working. They hadn’t been sent straight to bed yet.

“But with the election so close…” said Saffron softly. “This is when it counts. If he loses—”

“He won’t lose,” Felix cut in. “How can he? Everybody knows this Government is evil. They tried to go to war with France, and they haven’t let anybody vote about anything until now.”

“But if he does lose,” Saffron went on, “I doubt many of his so-called supporters will stick by him. And if he wins it could be worse. We’ll find out how many of them have been using him for their own power.”

There was genuine concern on her face. It was obvious to Jimmy that she still cared deeply about Viggo, despite his erratic behaviour since his campaign had become official. The man had worked against the Government in secret for so long, thought Jimmy. Maybe he just wasn’t used to being allowed to do it in public. Maybe sometimes secrets could protect you.

Jimmy felt his fingers tingling. He knew it wasn’t his programming, or even the radiation poisoning. It was his mind churning, unsure whether to show his mum.While he was deep in his thoughts, Saffron said goodnight and went back to bed. Now Jimmy looked at Felix. To Jimmy’s relief, his friend saw the uncertainty on his face and immediately understood what to do.

“OK, bye then,” said Felix brightly. “I need my beauty sleep, you know.” He tilted his head and patted his hair, as if he was some kind of supermodel, then hurried out of the room. Jimmy couldn’t help smiling, despite the dread in his heart.

“You too, Jimmy,” said his mum.

Jimmy didn’t move, but he couldn’t say anything either. It was several seconds before he forced his arm muscles to pull his hands from his pockets.

“What’s this?” asked his mum, taking his hands and turning them over to examine them.

“Mum,” choked Jimmy, “I have to explain where I went tonight, and why and…” He paused, staring at the floor, knowing that if he looked at his mother’s face he might not be able to stop himself crying. “…and I have to tell you what’s happening to me.”

(#ulink_ea5519b6-6c8a-513a-9259-a562098a6d5c)

The White House seemed to glow in the late-afternoon sun. The perfectly neat lines of its construction were broken by the flashes of red and blue coming from the dozens of Stars and Stripes flags that flapped wildly. In the centre of it all was Colonel Keays.

His medals glinted off his navy uniform. He was a stocky man of about sixty, but today, with his chin high and triumph in his eyes, he looked a little younger. The seal of the President of the United States was emblazoned on the lectern in front of him. It may as well have been on the man’s chest.

“…I am greatly humbled by the honour the people of this great nation have thrust upon me,” he was saying. His words boomed over the public address system. The gathered crowd listened obediently, smiles fixed. The whole occasion was perfectly stage-managed. Even the few thin hairs left on top of Colonel Keays’ head were greased flat so they wouldn’t misbehave.

“…and I promise to you all that the country will be made even greater by my efforts, within our own boundaries and beyond. For example, while our cousins in the United Kingdom struggle through their own election, I pledge to help them in their first steps towards real democracy, whatever the outcome of their vote.”

He puffed up his chest and stretched his shoulders, appearing even more broad than usual. Behind him, the marching band was given their cue. They lifted their instruments, light shimmering across the crowd as the sun reflected off the brass.

“I have already extended the hand of friendship to the British,” Keays went on, “and will continue to do so in countries around the world. We must never waver in our determination to extend our influence across the globe. This is the greatest nation on Earth.” There was a small ‘hurrah’ from the crowd. “And I pledge to you now that as President I see our future as the greatest nation the human race has ever seen.” Another cheer, slightly louder, just as well orchestrated. “God bless America!”

Finally the crowd was allowed to give full-bodied applause. The carefully positioned Secret Service staff made sure it lasted just the right amount of time, never dropping below a spirited level, but remaining civilised.

The brass band struck up a lilting chorus of ‘Hail to the Chief’ and dozens of government staff lined up for Keays to grip each hand in turn and grin into the nearby TV cameras.

At the end of the line, the cameras were escorted away and a team of aides bustled around Keays.

“Congratulations, Colonel,” whispered one, as they marched into the shadows, away from the crowds.

“I’m no longer a colonel,” Keays barked immediately. “I’m now Commander-in-Chief. You’ll address me as ‘Mr President’.”

“Yes, Mr President.” The aide was so embarrassed he almost bowed.

“Any news from Britain?”

“Not yet, Mr President. Still a few hours to go. But Operation Blackout is in play.”

President Keays let out a stabbing laugh that echoed off the colonnades, then he led his staff quickly away through the doors of the White House.

Eva felt her eye muscles twitching. She’d gone through the whole night without sleep, but so had most of the staff of NJ7, she realised. She guessed that outside the labyrinth of NJ7 HQ the sun was probably rising, but down here in the tunnels there was no difference between night and day.

She stared at her notebook, watching her pencil move across the page automatically, barely able to focus on what Miss Bennett was saying. Instead, all Eva could see were the faces from an old photograph. Not only was she exhausted, but every time Miss Bennett looked at her she imagined the woman could see straight through to her back pocket, to the scanned copy of a tattered snapshot of a dozen old scientists.

Three of them already had bold black crosses over their faces. Those three could be no help to Jimmy now. The records of their deaths had been relatively simple to find, though Eva had been shocked to discover how easy it had been for NJ7 to assassinate their own staff. Now she had to fight to force the image from her mind.

“Eva, are you bored?” Miss Bennett’s voice was cool and steady. She slipped so effortlessly from dictating notes to barbed comments that Eva almost scribbled down ‘are you bored’ before she realised what Miss Bennett meant.

“Bored? No, of course not,” said Eva in a hurry. “Sorry.” She looked up from her notebook to see a compact smile on Miss Bennett’s lips – a bright red flash across the middle of her pale face, like a ‘no entry’ sign in negative. The Director of NJ7 was leaning against her desk, her long legs crossed casually in front of her. Her brown hair was, as always, immaculate, and with a glossy sheen that made it look almost unreal. She was dressed in a sharp black business suit, with a black shirt. How did she look so smart, Eva wondered, when she’s also been up for almost 36 hours without sleeping?

“Good. Then we’re done for now,” said Miss Bennett, gliding across her office to make her way out. “No need to read anything back to me. You can deal with it all in the car on the way to the airport.”

“Airport?” Eva could feel the tiredness enveloping her mind.

“Are you under the impression that the final word of anything I say needs translating into gibberish?”

Eva froze in Miss Bennett’s glare.

“Er, no, Miss Bennett.”

“Then let’s get on with the day, shall we?”

Eva hurried after her boss, mentally kicking herself – until now she’d completely forgotten that the first item on her schedule for that day was accompanying Miss Bennett to Heathrow. She longed to run as far away from NJ7 as possible. Every hour now felt like the prelude to her execution.

“This is going to be very delicate,” Miss Bennett explained as they walked briskly through the NJ7 complex. “The United Nations inspection team hasn’t been making enough noise.”