“Shootings,” he said. “Plural.”
“Another one?”
“Night before last.” Holden ran his hand through his hair and leaned forward. “You didn’t answer my question. I need protection. MI5, the police, someone. Everyone. What I know – it’s big. Albion won’t want it to get out.”
Sarah frowned. “Is that who you’re worried about then? Albion?”
“Among others.” Holden gave a sickly grin. “It’s not them. Not really. But when they find out, they’ll be looking to shut me up.” His grin faded. “Or worse.”
Sarah paused. “What is this about, Mr Holden? I need something other than vague statements if I am to do anything.”
Holden licked his lips. “A conspiracy. I don’t know what its purpose is, but I know some of the players, and they’re making their moves even as we speak.”
“Albion, you mean…”
“You’re not listening,” Holden blurted. “Albion are tangential. Or maybe not. But they’re not the ones pulling the trigger.” He pulled out his Optik in sudden, convulsive motion. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Jenks start to rise, and waved her back. She didn’t want to startle Holden. Not when he was finally getting to the point.
“Look, look here – these are pictures, he didn’t realise I’d taken them,” he began, then hesitated. “Or maybe he didn’t care. Either way, I have them.” He brought up an image, a hasty snapshot of an average looking man, dressed in the subdued browns and greys she’d come to associate with a certain sort of middle class undecided voter.
“And who is this?”
“The one pulling the trigger.” Holden frowned. “At least I think so.”
“And why do you think this?”
Another pause. Longer this time. She could smell his sweat, seeping out from under the shroud of cologne. “Because I sold him the gun.” He laughed harshly. “I needed the money. I didn’t think… and now…” He sat back, a hollow look on his face. “But it’s bigger than him. I’ve been putting the pieces together. Little bits here and there. Things he said. Things the others said…”
“Others?”
“He’s not the only one.” Holden caught her wrist in a tight grip. “I need a guarantee of protection before I say anything else.”
Sarah waved Jenks back again, not taking her eyes from Holden. No one had noticed his increasing anxiety yet, but eventually someone would. She needed to keep him calm. “Why come to me, Mr Holden?”
He released her and sat back. “Who better? Everyone knows you’ve got a grudge against Albion. That’s why you wanted to see the drone facilities, isn’t it? You’re trying to dig up dirt on them, on Cass. Well, what I can tell you will make that easier.”
Sarah said nothing. She rubbed her wrist where Holden had caught her. He was frightened and desperate, and that in turn made her uneasy. It was as if she had gone fishing and caught a shark by accident. What was she supposed to do now? Reel it in and hope for the best – or cut the line, like a sensible person?
Her choice was made for her when Holden’s Optik gave a shrill ping. He looked at it, eyes widening, and then at her. “You told them we were meeting,” he said, accusingly.
“What? Who are you talking about?”
“Albion! They’ll be here any second. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.” Holden shot to his feet, knocking his chair over backwards. He was wild-eyed as he looked around. “This is a trap!”
“It’s no trap, Holden,” Sarah began, half-rising to her feet. “I didn’t tell anyone. I – oh shit shit.” She hesitated. “Faulkner. I mentioned you’d come to see me…”
“Faulkner? You fucking told Faulkner?” He was shouting now, and as he backed away from the table she caught a flash of a pistol holstered beneath his coat. Jenks was on her feet as well, moving towards him.
“Moira, no – he’s armed,” Sarah said. Jenks froze, just for an instant, and then dove towards Holden, clearly intending to rugby-tackle him to the floor. Holden cursed and fell back, and the two of them went down in a tangle. Sarah hesitated, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t a feeling she liked. Hannah caught her wrist and pulled her back. The café was in an uproar now as the struggle upended tables and knocked over chairs.
Despite the differences in their weight, Jenks had the better of Holden from the outset. She hit him quickly, in the sides, and then across the jaw. It was only thanks to his desperation that he managed to throw her off, and her bad luck that she went face-first into a table. As Jenks rolled away, Holden scrambled to his feet. Through the big windows at the front of the café, Sarah saw three Albion drones drop down. Computerized voices bellowed commands as Holden lifted his Optik.
He did something, and all three drones fell out of the air. A moment later, Albion APVs skidded into view along the street, disgorging men and women in fatigues and body armour. Holden backed away from the entrance, eyes wide. He drew his weapon, and for a moment, Sarah thought he was going to make a fight of it.
Holden turned and ran for the kitchen. Sarah almost followed, but common sense kept her in place as Albion burst into the café and spread out with military precision. Every patron who hadn’t already fled was held at gunpoint, as were the staff. Shouted commands dropped people back into their seats. On the other side of the café, a child started to cry.
Sarah ignored the guns, and the shouts, and went to help Jenks to her feet. Her nose was busted, and Sarah grabbed a handful of napkins. She sat Jenks down. “Doesn’t look broken,” she said, passing the napkins to her bodyguard.
“Adding field medicine to your resume?” a familiar voice growled, behind her.
Sarah turned and put on an icy demeanour. “Sergeant Faulkner. Is there a reason you’re waving a gun in my face? I trust I haven’t done anything to make you fear for your life?” She
