‘Nate. You need to get a shuffle on. Now.’
‘OK. I was just going to—’
‘She’s gone, fella. They’re all gone. You’re not meant to be there. Get out. Now.’
It was just before midnight. In the seventeen minutes since Helix left the Blackburns’ apartment three police vehicles and two drones had arrived, along with a swarm of drone-based mediabots. A Mobile Forensics Unit was expected in the next fifteen. The mediabots were kept from encroaching on the airspace by a 300 hundred metre GPS exclusion zone that inhibited their flight systems. High voltage crowd fences were installed at each end of the street complete with a sentrybot should the risk of electrocution not be enough to discourage the idle curious. A pause in the rain had ushered forth a growing gaggle of gawpers requiring an additional perimeter around the apartment building. The homes above Blackburn’s had been cleared. The police drones maintained their programmed sweep of the area, pausing above anything that registered as a movement or heat signature.
In the shadow of an oak, Helix tightened the hood of his jacket trapping the heat radiating from his head. He wasn’t any closer to getting answers and the longer he stayed the more risk there was of him being spotted. Two good men had died and he wanted answers. The rough bark of the oak pressed into his back as he avoided detection from a low flying drone. With the drone gone, his mind wandered back to the MoHD, Yawlander’s apartment and the conversation he’d had with Ormandy. Had he missed something? A chasm opened in his stomach. The one person whose opinion he valued was gone. Yawlander had a knack of asking the question you hadn’t thought of, or for spotting the tiniest detail on which a case pivoted.
Forcing his mind back to the present, he zoomed in and made one more sweep of the crowd gathered at the eastern end of the street. Umbrellas were hoisted as the rain returned, thinning out the onlookers. What had happened to Yawlander, Blackburn and his family was clinical. It wouldn’t take Ethan long to find out why there wasn’t anything on the video feeds and logs at the MoHD. Helix swivelled to the west, scanning the crowd. A movement in the shadows of an alleyway beyond caught his attention. He froze. Switching to thermal imaging, he confirmed the presence of a large heat source. Night vision revealed a bald bulky man with a beard. The facial hair was impressive, almost hipster, but its wearer didn’t look like the type to use beard oil or queue up for the latest trendy brain-boosting nootropic snack. The tactical clothing wasn’t from a unit that Helix was familiar with. ‘You seeing what I’m seeing, Ethan?’
‘Brick shithouse. Not someone you’d want to meet in the proverbial dark alley.’
‘No. What’s he doing?’
‘Why don’t you go and ask him?’
‘He’s not paying a lot of attention to what’s going on. Just standing there.’ Helix zoomed closer to the face. ‘Shit! He’s got a night vision monocular. He’s looking straight at me.’
‘You’re meant to be blending into the shrubbery. Standby. Get ready to move.’
‘What have you got in mind?’
‘You’ll see. Keep your eye on him.’
A blinding flash of white light burst across Helix’s night vision as two police drones crashed into the high voltage perimeter fence, scattering the crowd and activating the sentrybot.
Helix sprinted through the muddy park towards his AV. ‘A warning would have been nice or were you trying to blind me?’ he hissed.
Ten minutes and three diversionary loops later, he entered the bottom of the street where he’d left his AV and slowed to walking pace. ‘Ethan? Are you there?’
Pulling back the flap over the graphene panel in his jacket sleeve, he stopped and scrolled through the apps, selecting the backup comms channel. ‘Ethan. Come in, Bruv.’ The technology was advanced but not infallible. He scratched his ear, trying to recall the last time they’d had an unplanned outage. He was probably in the crapper, not that that stopped him from answering. Pushing his hood from his head, he scanned the street. Nothing moved. Locked-in life gave itself away in faint shards of light that escaped around the edges of shutters and blinds.
A beep in his ear gave a brief beat of relief, but it wasn’t his brother. He ground his teeth. What did she want now? He prodded Julia Ormandy’s unsmiling image. ‘Home Secretary.’ He folded his arms. The lamp-lit drizzle persisted, beading on the collar of his jacket, rolling down his neck.
‘Helix, where exactly are you?’
‘On suspension, ma’am. As per your orders.’
‘Location?’
‘With my brother. At the Observatory.’
‘Really. Then perhaps you can explain the explosion that has just destroyed said Observatory.’
Helix stumbled towards a parked AV, catching himself on its side as all strength deserted his legs. ‘What explosion?’ Ethan. The break in comms. ‘What fucking explosion?’ he shouted.
‘I thought that might be the case. As a P1 location, the MoHD is notified of anything untoward that occurs. The explosion was heard in Westminster and the police have had a least a dozen calls from concerned residents in the Meridian. Is your brother with you?’
‘No.’
‘You best come in until we know what’s happening. For your own protection.’
‘Protection? I can look after myself. I need to find Ethan.’
‘Major. The building has been completely—’
‘I’m going to find him.’ He’d lost one brother, he wasn’t going to lose the only surviving family he had. Ethan had to be alive. ‘If he’s in there, I don’t want anyone near him.’ Brushing his finger over the display, he ended the call. He had to get to his AV. Get
