“You what?” Olly said, startled. “Like a bomb or some shit?”
“Yeah, something like that. We don’t know who Tell is, or why they’re after him. We don’t even know who’s after him.”
Olly frowned. “I figured it was Albion.”
Liz shook her head. “Maybe. Or maybe someone else entirely.” She sat down on the couch. “The possibilities are fair endless at this point.”
“This is getting complicated.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I – hang on.” She pulled out her Optik as it buzzed, her eyes narrowed. “What is this… a photo?” Bagley’s voice filled the air a moment later.
Courtesy of Hannah Shah, Elizabeth. Lincoln met with a certain Mr Holden, in Whitechapel. It seems that he’s tied up in Dempsey’s death.
“How?” she demanded.
Unknown at the moment.
“Where is he now?”
Also unknown. Albion arrived. He made a daring escape.
“Shit. Have we got people looking?”
Obviously. As soon as I know anything, you’ll know.
Liz looked at Olly. “Looks like Hannah might have found something.”
“I heard.”
“You sound surprised.”
Olly shrugged. “No. I mean, she got us those passes, but she ain’t exactly bypassing firewalls, is she?”
“Not everyone is a spy or script-kiddie, Olly. But they can all be useful.”
“Like Sarah Lincoln, you mean? Is she one of us too?”
Liz laughed. “God, no. No, she’s playing her own game. But Hannah, bless her, thinks she can aim the honourable MP for Tower Hamlets South at the right targets.” Liz sat back, arms crossed. “I wasn’t keen on the idea, I admit, but it seems to be working. At least for now.”
“And what about when it stops?” Olly looked down at her. “She ain’t one of us. Not really. Politician, innit? Albion is bad now, but what about when it ain’t politically expedient to bust their balls?”
“Expedient?” Liz said, eyebrow raised.
“I know what it means.”
“You’re like an onion, Olly. Layers and layers.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“Also, you can be a bit whiffy.”
Olly made to retort, when his Optik vibrated in his hands. “Found it,” he said. “Right there, in the moulding over the kitchen door.”
Liz stood, eyes narrowed. “There’s a knothole there. Might be something behind it. Get me a chair.” Olly grabbed a chair from the kitchen and she clambered up to the hole, pulling out her multi-tool as she did so. Carefully, she prised away a cork blind to reveal a neatly cut hole, just large enough for a web camera. She pulled it out and studied. “I know this model. Runs off the wifi. Has a battery life of a day or two. People use them as nanny-cams. Here, see if you can trace the signal.”
Olly caught it. But as he did so, a second alert chimed. “What the hell…?”
Liz looked down. “What?”
“I think someone is trying to – shit! Liz!” Olly lunged and tackled her from the chair, even as the first shot sounded. It was like a whip-crack, echoing amid the sound of breaking glass. The shot passed through the air where Liz’s head had been and punched into the wall opposite, filling the air with plaster dust. A second shot followed, and a third.
“I think we found the drone,” Olly shouted.
“More like it found us – stay down. We got to get to the door.” Liz pushed Olly aside and rolled onto her stomach. Follow me, and keep your bloody head down.”
“Where are we going?”
“Out of here. Bagley – I need a route, something that won’t walk us in front of a bullet,” she snarled.
Calculating. You should know that the police have been alerted. That almost certainly means Albion has been as well.
“Wonderful,” Olly said. “If the drone doesn’t shoot us, they will.”
“Not if we move quickly. Come on.” Liz crawled towards the front door. Out of the corner of his eye, Olly saw a dark shape pass across the window. He grabbed Liz’s ankle.
“Wait! I think he’s tracking us.”
Liz froze. Olly watched the window. The drone hovered for a moment, and then dropped away. Olly released Liz. “Go, go, go.”
They reached the door a moment later, and went through into the corridor. Doors slammed as eavesdroppers retreated. There were no windows in the corridor, but that didn’t mean much, especially given the calibre of weapon involved. Olly had watched enough online ballistic tests to know the walls of the building weren’t going to be much of an impediment. As if to prove the point, the wall abruptly burst inwards, showering the corridor with chips of brick and splinters of wood. A second shot followed, burying itself in the doors of the lift at the other end of the corridor.
“Stairs,” Liz said. “Hurry!”
“How the hell can he see us?” Olly shouted.
Liz grabbed him and yanked the Optik out of his hand. “This. You cloned Tell’s Optik, remember?” She smashed it against the wall and flung it back the way they’d come. “Right. Keep moving.”
They hurried down the stairs. Olly’s back itched the entire way, in expectation of a bullet. But no more shots followed. “He can’t have many bullets left,” he said, panting slightly. “Weight requirements alone would throw off the ammunition capacity…”
“All he needs is one,” Liz said, over her shoulder. “We have to get somewhere a drone can’t follow, right now, or we’re dead.”
Coyle frowned in concentration as he strafed the side of the council block. Calculations ran through his head as he fired, trying to predict and track the movements of targets he couldn’t see. He needed them out in the open, and quickly. It wasn’t like the other times – this was a prolonged assault rather than a surgical strike, and that could have consequences.
A certain amount of collateral damage was acceptable, but too much and it attracted the wrong sort of attention. If Albion managed to tag Holden, there was a chance he might have information that could compromise the operation. Then again, maybe not. But whoever these two were, they were a definite danger. They’d raided a police station, and they’d located what he was now certain was Tell’s flat, something
