Chapter 8 as it appeared

They were holed up in a cabin somewhere in the north of New York State. They'd been on the move for forty-eight hours but seemed to have lost the pursuit. The joys of the info-sphere meant they had had rolling news coverage the whole time. Bodies had been recovered from the ruins of the chopper crash and Jim's face had been plastered everywhere. As usual the administration had picked the mug shot that was taken when he left Malton. In this case the effect of grimy desperation was slightly spoiled by Jim's large grin and an inflatable parrot he'd apparently found somewhere and worn on his shoulder for the event. Cat was surprised no one had had the presence of mind to air brush it out.

She stood in the back of the cabin with a hand on his pack. They needed to travel light. There was no way they could carry his stuff with them any further. With sudden decision, she hoisted it up and headed out. There was a workshop in a lean-to. She was going to get a spade.

"What are you doing?" Vicky came out of the hut as she started to dig.

"Can't take his stuff with us. Damned if I'm going to leave it where it can be found."

Vicky nodded. "I'll tell the others."

Cat heard her walking off as she continued to dig.

"Here, let me have that." It was Gabby's voice. Gently he took the spade from her hands. Sam stood behind him with a second spade. "You'd better sort through his things," added Gabby. "In case there is anything we should keep."

As Sam and Gabby dug, Cat emptied the pack. There wasn't much there; a change of clothes; a spare identity; his Delta badge and, for some reason, a small box of fireworks and a penguin that said "Give us a kiss" when you pressed its beak. There was an old and faded photo of Delta Squad and a more recent one of the five of them. Cat kept the photos and the badge, but once the hole was a couple of feet deep she consigned the rest to the earth.

Vicky took a turn helping to fill the hole back in and then the four of them stood around the small patch of over-turned earth.

"Do you think we should say something?" asked Gabby.

Cat knelt down and pressed the DHPD badge into the ground, covering it over with a small layer of earth.

"Goodbye Jim," she said. Then she stood up and headed back to the house.

"Why are we doing this?" asked Sam.

"I'm not sure," said Cat. "But something about the whole prostitute business has never felt right to me."

"I was an idiot. OK, so maybe Simon paid her to pick me up and pump me for information, but I was the one who argued with Vicky, got blind drunk, let myself get picked up and then spilled the beans on half a dozen classified projects."

Cat bit her lip. "Bear with me, Sam. It was all too convenient. You getting that drunk, just when he needed you to. You've always said you couldn't remember a thing right?"

"Yeah, but I've seen the photographs, along with half the western world."

"Ever happen before or since?"

"Since I was in my twenties? No."

"Look here's the Press release he made. You know, the `more in sorrow than in anger' one."

"What?"

"Look at the date stamp on the files. That's two weeks before the whole prostitute thing."

"That can't be right."

"He was already planning to set you up. He knew the information you'd hand over. Hell, he may have briefed the girl himself, you probably didn't say anything at all!"

"But why would he bother?"

"Sam, you were on record criticising the direction Necrotech was taking it's research in and publicly linking his name to the company. Even I worked that bit out."

Sam shrugged. "OK, so we have evidence I was set up. But really, right now, that's not the bit that bothers me so much."

"Personal loyalty more important than professional ethics?"

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

"I've never had a profession, so I wouldn't know."

Cat was clicking through more files. "Here we go, financial details."

"How does that help?"

"Look, here's where he paid Rose Stubbs."

"We know he paid her to pick me up."

"Ah ha! But look Rohypnol!"

"What!"

"Two days earlier. Purchase of Rohypnol."

"You saying I was date raped?"

"It's a sedative, so I doubt any sex was involved on your part. But yeah, it would explain the amnesia."

"I don't know," said Sam. "The evidence is pretty thin."

"Set your mind at ease any though?"

"A little, I should show it to Vicky."

Cat sighed and set the spreadsheet to print. "Don't know how much difference it will make. She's with Gabby now and anyway, you were both prepared to believe things had got bad enough that you would have slept with the prostitute. The fact that you didn't doesn't alter that."

"I know." Sam pecked Cat on the cheek. "Still, worth a try, eh?"

Kate sat and stared at the spreadsheet for a bit, trying to get her breathing under control. She was aware of a sense of impotent rage. In her head she'd suspected, in fact she'd thought she'd known, she would find something like this in the files. However, it seemed that, until this moment she'd never actually believed that Simon would deliberately ruin a person's life as he had. She'd never been close to the musketeers in Malton, but she'd counted all the DHPD as comrades, even if not friends. It felt like Simon had betrayed her in destroying Sam's life.

Very carefully she removed the data stick and then put in the next. She typed in the decryption key she recalled from that year and began searching through the files. What she found was a report Snow had sent into the party governing committee. It was counter-signed by Marty. It documented very carefully every bruise they'd observed on her, the painkillers they prescribed and the one's they hadn't but had nevertheless deduced she had taken. They had monitored the contents of the first aid kits she'd kept under the bed and noted when the contents got used and her own behaviour the following days. It was a nasty little picture they drew up and their concern was clear in every line. It closed with a very carefully worded suggestion that the committee should consider the political ramifications if the situation escalated or became widely known.

Kate was fairly sure the report had never made it to the committee. They would have sent it via Ian, she figured, but someone must have intercepted it. It was dated the day before the two of them were suddenly arrested. She'd known they were concerned about her. Snow had tried to raise the topic several times and she had shut him out. She'd half known the arrests were related to that concern but somehow she'd persuaded herself to believe it was because of their contacts with Kulko. But here it was, pretty much in black and white. They had been concerned for her and Simon had had them ruthlessly removed. They had both been in a maximum security prison for over five years now. She hadn't been to visit. She hadn't even attended the trial. Simon had destroyed them as well. How could he?

Cat grabbed hold of the monitor screen and flung it against the wall. She threw the computer after it and screamed. Then she kicked over the chair and the table for good measure. Footsteps came running.

"Cat!" It was Vicky. "Cat are you all right." Vicky was holding onto her shoulders.

"He fitted up Marty and Snow as well. He put Dixie in jail."

"But we knew that." It was Gabby, standing in the doorway.

"Get out Gabby," said Vicky. "Leave us alone for a minute or two."

Cat realised she was shaking with anger. "I can't believe he did that, to people I cared about."

"Cat." Vicky was sitting her down on the bed. "Cat, you knew this."

"I just... I just never saw it in black and white before."

"Oh Cat!" Vicky gave her a hug.

"I hate him! hate him! hate him!" and Cat beat her clenched fists on her knees.

Malton +51

"So where is this contact of yours?" Gabby demanded, shifting uneasily in his chair.

"Let me check my crystal ball. I don't fucking know. He's coming. Why couldn't Sam come? Or Vicky?"

"I'm the poster boy." Gabby shrugged. "I always do first contact. Look, I reckon this is him," he suggested, pointing out a small man entering the bar, his skin sun-tanned.

"Why? You seen pictures?"

"How many Berliners have a tan in winter, Steve? Besides, look at his badge - that was the symbol of the French Resistance back in the 40s."

"Eh? What did the French ever resist?"

Gabby scowled. "The Nazis, moron."

"Don't mention the war!" the contact urged as he approached, grinning broadly.

"Hey, man, nice to meet you. I'm ... well, you know who I am. So, you wanted to meet us?" Gabby offered a chair.

"Yes I did. I wholly support your aims, and I have some information that I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear... for a price."

Kulko sighed heavily as Gabby started negotiating. No-one had any loyalty anymore. It was all about money these days.

"What do you think?" Gabby inquired as they left the bar. Kulko thought for a moment. He raised his gaze to fix Gabby with one of his searching stares and froze. Just over Gabby's shoulder, a squad of heavily armed police officers were smashing into the bar.

"Don't turn around," Kulko breathed. "Just walk away, calmly, and we'll hail a cab."

One of the police officers caught sight of Kulko's beard and barked, "Halt!"

"It's your motherfucking beard, caveman!" Gabby groaned, "Run!"

The two men started sprinting, pounding through the red-light district of the German regional capital, ducking under prostitutes who did not know what the two men were bringing after them. As they exited the claustrophobic warren of brothels and strip clubs, they heard the yells of an entire district concealing itself. Gabby smirked slightly.

"In here!" Kulko urged, dragging him into a narrow alleyway.

"They'll never suspect we went down here," Gabby drawled, overturning bins and cardboard boxes as he passed to slow down their pursuers.

"You got any better ideas?"

"Yeah - turn left now! In this shop!" Gabby ordered.

"Guitars? Who will have the intelligence to draw the link between you and guitars, eh?"

"A scrawny teenager with long hair and a leather jacket and a bearded mad guy will fit right into a guitar shop. Just come and look at acoustics and pretend you know what they are!"

Kulko rolled his eyes and followed Gabby into the cramped guitar store, edging through the displays to the small room at the back containing the acoustic guitars. Gabby glanced towards the entrance, saw a police-man peering in, and grabbed a guitar from the wall. He began strumming aimlessly, hoping to pass himself off as a casual browser. While Gabby noodled, Kulko watched shop-owner approach the police officer. The owner raised a hand, pointing towards the acoustic guitar room.

"Move!" Kulko hissed. Gabby looked up at him and nodded, trying to hang the guitar back up and getting stuck on two other guitars.

"What the fuck are you doing? Move it!" Kulko growled, jerking Gabby away from the wall. The guitar slipped from his grasp and crashed to the floor with a nasty-sounding bang. Gabby whimpered as they burst out through the back door, surprising a scruffy German tramp. Gabby placed a finger across his lips as the two men scrambled into yet another maze of alleyways.

"Over this wall!" Kulko ordered, clambering up onto a bin. As he kicked up onto the top of the wall, the bin toppled over, clattering away down the street. Gabby swore and stood at the foot of the wall, clawing ineffectually at it in search of a handhold. Running footsteps approached. Kulko groaned and turned back to help the younger man climb up. The two leapt down together, and as they ran, Gabby murmured,

"For a moment there, I really thought you were going to ditch me."

"I was. Then I remembered the resistance apparently needs a pretty-boy to appear on the wanted posters. You're all we've got for the moment. Now shut up and run, stop wasting breath!"

They emerged onto a busy main road. Gabby skidded to a halt, almost colliding with a businessman strolling by and shouting into a phone. A black hatchback screeched down the road and braked sharply next to them. The door burst open.

"Get in!" Cat yelled, clutching the wheel tightly.

Can I get you a drink, Vicky?" Sam offered as he headed for the minibar.

"I would feel bad - aren't those extortionately-priced drinks you're downing coming out of Gabby's accounts?"

"Not exactly - he put the money into the Resistance - I'm an equal player in the resistance. So it's as much mine as his."

Vicky smiled faintly.

"You always did have an interesting set of morals, Sam. Go on then."

"Yeah... where did the others go again?"

"Danny and Anton went out for a drink. Gabby's meeting this new contact with Kulko. Cat and BD are doing something high tech involving surveillance devices and that car Gabby bought." Vicky shrugged. "We're waiting."

"Here you go, one Jack'n'Coke - double Jack, not much Coke, just like you like it."

Vicky gave Sam a small smile as she took a gulp of her drink.

"Vicky... you know... us? Do you think we can ever, like, get back to what we were?" Sam stammered.

"Do we want to, Sam? Really? I mean, even if we were set-up, we didn't have much left, did we? A year, tops."

"Then... what happened?"

Vicky opened her mouth to answer. Then she shut it again, staring at the ice cubes in the bottom of her drink. There was a loud knock on the door.

"The fuck? They've got keys!" Sam grumbled, shuffling towards the door.

"Wait." Vicky peered out of the window. Police helicopters were flying overhead, their spotlights circling the high-rise luxury hotel Gabby had insisted on staying in. "Sam, it's not Gabby. It's the cops."

"Fuck me. Do we have guns anymore?"

"Yes, they left the stocks here. You're not seriously considering fighting them, are you?" Vicky said incredulously, tossing Sam a shotgun.

A hole was torn in the door by a heavy battering ram. Vicky joined Sam behind it, clutching two Desert Eagles.

They were running down a back street somewhere behind the hotel. Vicky could hear sirens and running feet. Sam rounded a corner and she heard a sharp cry and a shot. As she skidded round behind him with guns raised she was pleased to see him still standing, a man's body at his feet.

"Which way now?" he asked. "This place is a warren."

"No idea." Vicky couldn't help grinning at him, but she managed to lace accusation into her tone. "You never did worry too much about killing did you? not like Gabe."

Sam's look raked her up and down. "Neither did you babe. You'd save lives if you could, but if you had to kill, you did."

Vicky shrugged and pointed ahead of them. "I guess we keep going." She flashed him a grin. "Catch me if you can."

She ran down the streets, ducking between side alleys but always heading away from the Fernsehturm so they didn't double back on themselves. She could hear Sam at her heels but she had always been faster than him. She made sure he didn't lose her. She rounded a corner and stopped dead. She turned round to face Sam as he came after her.

"Dead End!" she gasped.

"Caught you," he said, pressing her against the far wall and kissing her hard.

She was going to push him away when she caught sight of a police officer, rounding the corner behind him. She levelled both pistols and fired. The man went down.

Sam lifted his head but didn't look behind him. "Did you get him?"

"Yes." She was breathless and not just from the running.

"Do you remember our first time?"

"What? In Malton?" She saw the invitation in his expression. "You're fucking mad Sam Stokoe. The living move a lot faster than the dead."

"Take less shooting though."

She thought about that. "You were wearing sunglasses that time."

"It's the middle of the fucking night Vick."

"Sunglasses!"

Sam sighed. Somehow, while still holding her tight he extracted his aviator sunglasses from his jacket pocket and put them on.

"Happy? I can't see a fucking thing."

"You don't need to."

He kissed her again, hands fumbling at her clothes.

"Hey! I haven't agreed yet."

Expressionless mirrored sunglasses, devil-may-care grin. "No, but you're going to."

Once, in Malton, she had felt like Sam could see every thought that went through her mind, as if half the time she didn't even need to speak for him to know what she wanted or felt. Somewhere, in the intervening years, that had been lost. Now, here in a Berlin back street with the Police on their heels, she had that same sense of connection once again.

She closed her eyes and listened. The sounds of sirens and running feet seemed to have diminished somewhat. "All right, let me reload first though."

"Jesus, Gabby. The guitar heist was mental enough. Now you want us to blow up the seat of the world government? How many deaths would that cause?" Vicky groaned.

"None. Kulko's contact said there is an annual fire-drill. The whole building gets emptied. We blow the building up. It's a perfect protest against the government."

"How the fuck do you want us to blow up that monstrosity of a building?" Sam snapped.

"Lots and lots of explosives. Boom." Gabe explained, a broad grin on his face.

"Cat, do you know how Jim contacted Tarrok?"

Cat frowned at the grainy image of Hali on the media screen while she thought about it. "I can probably piece it together," she conceded eventually.

"Cool! Because I've worked out how we can bring the media filtering down. At least for a while."

"What?"

"It's from that program I had you insert into Simon's machine. I've worked out how the surveillance code all works by monitoring Simon's incoming reports. The code is decades old now. I know that from poking around inside the systems. It's a legacy system patched a hundred times. The only way they keep it running is through some dedicated machines in Tibet."

"Tibet?"

"Yeah, big military base out there. Anyway, knock out those machines and you take the whole system down. They'll be forced to rebuild from scratch. It'll take them years. But you'll need a serious team to get in. Probably time to call in Tarrok's Black Ops people."

Kulko was tossing a soft ball against the motel room wall. He'd been doing it for half an hour.

"Something's not right," observed Anton.

Kulko looked up. "I just can't put my finger on what. But yes, something's not right."

Danny was cleaning his gun. "Whatever. You linked the contact up with Gabby. It's his call now. If he wants to do something big and showy in Beijing he can."

"No can do," said BD. "If Cat's involved and you smell a rat, I want it shut down."

"You're welcome to try," said Kulko. "But you've got as much chance of persuading Gabby to put something off based on one of my hunches as I have."

"None basically," said Danny.

BD scratched his head. "It was all very convenient. Your egg-heads being able to link us up with someone working security in the world parliament building."

"Coincidences happen," said Kulko.

"Not often enough to accept at face value," pointed out Anton.

"Agreed." Kulko thought about the situation. "The egg-head just said his cousin worked in the building but this guy walks in with the full security details and a timetable of meetings and drills for the next two years. Time and date of attack all planned out. I'm feeling bounced into something unexpected."

"Let's check back with the eggheads," said Danny. "At least see if we can get this guy to ID his cousin and guarantee it's the same man."

"That will mean getting back to the US," said Kulko. "Don't want to risk the mediasphere for this, too many keywords could get triggered."

BD stood up. "Better get going then. There's a train leaves for the coast every couple of hours, then we can see about hitching a lift on a fast ship."

"You heard about Sam and Vicky then?"

"Cat. Half of Berlin heard those two. Now, they're treating French Switzerland to their performances. It's like the comeback tour of some great rock band," Gabby groaned, slumping down into the sofa next to Purple Cat.

"You were no better when you were with her, you know," Cat said disapprovingly. Gabby smirked.

"Yeah, well. They're meant for each other, aren't they? Even when they were apart... it's always been Sam and Vicky."

"Didn't stop you trying it on with her, did it?"

Gabby winked.

"C'mon - was I supposed to not take advantage of perhaps the only chance I'll ever get? In all eternity?"

"I suppose you have been lusting after poor old Vicky since Malton, haven't you?" Cat said dryly. Gabby nodded, grinning. "Gabby, Gabby, what are we going to do with you, eh?"

"I can think of a few things," Gabby murmured with a smirk. Cat smacked him on the arm. The two of them sat in silence for a while, staring out at the Swiss Alps.

"Cat - do you ever get scared you won't find someone? Like, an Immortal?"

"What do you mean? I've got you lot, and my brother's immortal - I'm not going to end up too lonely."

"You know what I mean. Single."

"Well, until you became the new Che Guevara, I don't think you were ever single."

"Not true. I gave up on fucking random teenagers years ago. No, but I mean... Sam's got Vicky. I reckon they're good to go forever now. Who have we got, you know?"

"There's us," Cat murmured, looking up at Gabby. The two of them were almost in each other's arms. Cat appeared to have moved closer at some point during the conversation.

"Us," Gabby repeated, his voice husky. They had been here before, he realised. Both vulnerable, alone, with Sam and Vicky's passionate example fresh in their minds. Gabby stood up abruptly.

"Just us. And Simon, I presume," he said flatly, still feeling the sting of her quiet rejection all those years ago. "We're in Montreux, right? I'm going to catch the Jazz Festival. See you later, Cat."

Malton +52

The rope had already frozen solid when Tarrok rappeled back down it. Snow whirled against his mask, settling briefly on his goggles until the built-in heaters melted it. He kicked off the rock-face, disturbing snow and ice from the ledges above him, and landed knee-deep in the powdery snow-drift heaped up against the cliff-face over-looking the military base. The surveillance system all ran from here. He hadn't asked where Cat had got the details from, but once she'd passed him the information he'd been able to double-check with his own contacts.

The team were operating under comms blackout. He had done exercises under blackout but this was the first time he had had to work in the field under such conditions. The procedure felt was alien to him. He had survived for fifty years by maximising every benefit of modern technology that he thought would keep him and his men alive. Without active communications with his team, he felt naked. Primitive. Tarrok whistled, hoping the wind wouldn't carry the sound down the valley to the server complex.

At the sound of his voice, the snow came alive, two dozen men emerging from the surface in a flurry of powder. Shaking themselves off, they gathered around him, checking their equipment.

"You know your missions. You know the targets. Let's move," he said shortly, flicking off the safety on his sub-machine gun.

The group formed up Ranger file, with Tarrok in the middle, and his lieutenants at either end.

Tarrok glanced nervously up at the spotlights. According to intelligence, they took a minute to make a 180 sweep. They moved as the lights had commenced a pass. In theory, they should have been able to reach the perimeter before the light reached them, but snow had fallen the night before and their plans had not taken it into account enough - it was hampering their mobility. The spotlight wasn't the basic lamp Tarrok had learnt to fight against in his youth. It had a raft of sensors on board - in theory if the beam was interrupted by anything larger than a snowflake, the base would go onto full alert, which meant artillery aimed at the perimeter, the full regiment of guards being mobilised, along with air support. Worst of all it meant the base buildings would go into lock down. Nothing would get in. In short, it meant complete failure of the mission.

They weren't going to make it in time. Tarrok made the hand signal to drop and the line of men fell face first into the snow. Now they were going to find who was ahead in military research. The intrusion measures department or the counter-intrusion measures. Tarrok and his team were wearing the state-of-the-art in stealth clothing. Built in electronics diffused the sounds of heart-beats, complex heat exchange systems detected the closest heat sink and channeled excess body heat there, chemical sprays masked sweat and materials residue by diluting it with stronger latent signals from the environment. Tarrok had been impressed in the briefing, many months ago. Face down in a snow drift he cursed that his life was in the hand of some scientist or technician with a penchant for building toys, rather than in his own or those of men he had trained and trusted.

The snow around him was bathed in a bright light. Tarrok held himself still and prayed.