Olly cried out as he rolled across the roof of a New Routemaster, his body aching with the sudden impact. The bus kept going, despite the crashed drone. The pursuit drones closed, swooping towards him like giant wasps.
On your feet, Oliver, now’s not the time to be laying down on the job!
Olly shoved himself to his feet and ran along the top of the moving bus, his brain still rattling in his skull. He had no idea where he was going, only that he needed to get there quick. Bits of burning drone littered the front of the bus and he skidded through them as the vehicle picked up speed.
Best hang on, Oliver. They’re about to–
The bus shuddered as the pursuit drones shorted its systems. Olly sank into a crouch and tensed, ready for what he knew was coming. There were startled shouts from the passengers as the vehicle locked and careened across a corner, glancing off a traffic light post in a spray of sparks and a yelp of abused metal, before plunging into oncoming traffic.
Horns blared, brakes squealed and glass shattered as a ripple of collisions expanded outwards from the Routemaster. Olly found himself skidding across the top of the bus and then off the side. He got a flash of the shocked face of a tourist peering out at him. His fingers scrabbled vainly at the metal surface for a few moments – and then he was falling backwards. He struck the roof of a car, rolled down its bonnet and onto the street, hard enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
Gasping, aching, he hauled himself to his knees. The pursuit drones were circling, as if confused. Despite the pain of his landing, he smiled. Not as if – they were. They were running cTOS facial recognition software, trying to ID him, and failing. Hand on the front of the car, he pushed himself to his feet. His Optik was cracked, but thankfully still working.
The drones descended, still circling. He could hear the growl of high-powered engines. Albion was closing in. People were out of their cars now, shouting questions. Olly waited until one of the drones got close enough – and struck.
The pursuit drone had a more sophisticated firewall than a courier, but not sophisticated enough. Olly had control three seconds later. The drone spun on its rotors and disabled the nearest of its fellows. It fell to the street a moment later, disabled by the third. And while that one was distracted, Olly struck again.
Hobbling towards the pavement, Olly gave the remaining pursuit drone a new target – the Albion APV that had just turned the corner at the other end of the street. He didn’t stay to watch what happened next. Activating the camouflage app, he wove through the growing crowd. “Bagley, give me the straightest route to the rally point.”
Say the magic word.
“Now.”
Close enough. Well done, by the way.
Olly didn’t reply. He was too busy running.
14: Sibling Rivalry
Ro looked down the corridor first one way, and then the other. No one in sight, though she could hear the shouts of the corner boys outside. Colin’s flat was on the third floor, and at the end of the corridor near the stairs. She’d visited once, and remembered the smell of takeaways and body odour. Colin was a confirmed bachelor.
She eyed the lock, stepped back and gave the door a precisely placed kick, then another. On the third, the lock popped and the door swung in. She paused, waiting to see if anyone had heard or was otherwise coming to investigate. When no one showed up, she went in and pushed the door closed behind her.
She’d spent most of the day trying to get a lead on Colin’s mates, hoping one of them might be able to help her. But they’d proven elusive, so she’d decided to hit the flat, like Billy had suggested.
It was as messy as she remembered. Clothes everywhere, magazines and games piled sloppily around a ratty couch. A big flat screen television occupied the opposite wall. Besides the television and the couch, there wasn’t much in the way of furniture. A smallish balcony looked out over a shared green space that was mostly dirt and crisp bags.
She made her way to the back of the flat, investigating the kitchen and the bedroom. She left Colin’s bathroom for last. The kitchen was the cleanest room in the flat, mostly because it looked as if it hadn’t been used. Stacks of takeaway menus sat on the table, and the bin was full of Styrofoam containers and plastic cutlery. She could still smell Colin’s last meal, and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
The bedroom was as much a tip as the sitting room. She didn’t find anything under his bed other than a dizzying assortment of pornography. The closet had nothing of interest, nor was there anything under the mattress. Her annoyance grew. Colin wasn’t her responsibility, but she was taking the blame for his mistakes. It wasn’t fair.
She pushed her brimming frustration down. She’d gotten good at that, over the years. She knew better than most that life wasn’t fair. It wasn’t a question of getting hit – it was only a question of what you did afterwards. You could lie around and feel sorry for yourself, or you could get up and maybe throw a few punches of your own.
Ro leaned against the bedroom door, thinking again about the moment Colin had gone down. The way he’d folded up as the life went out of him. She didn’t feel sick, thinking about it
