Helix_Episode 1 Page 8

‘What are you doing?’ she asked .

  He handed his socks to her. ‘Put those on. I didn’t rescue you from halfway around the world so you could get frostbite .’

  She dusted off her feet and pulled on the socks. Her toes began to thaw .

  ‘The van was hit,’ she said. ‘I guess you did that .’

  ‘No.’ He inhaled slowly and paused for a moment. ‘That was the Blue Berets. The Fifth Column’s soldiers, they’re drawn from special forces units around — ’

  ‘I know who they are, they helped train us,’ she said. ‘But why did they want to hurt us ?’

  ‘Because we’re not on their side anymore,’ Illarion said .

  Barefoot, he placed his boots neatly in front of her .

  ‘China had a South Blade unit from Guangzhou on location,’ he said. ‘They were able to extract everyone under threat, including you. We were lucky .’

  ‘I don’t feel lucky.’ She snatched one of Illarion’s boots. Her foot slipped inside with room to spare. She put the other boot on and hugged her legs. ‘I can’t go back, can I?’ she asked .

  He shook his head. ‘No, you can never go back .’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Six years ago

  Location: Unknown

  O lesya looked through the glass at Ark, sleeping in a hospital bed .

  ‘Is he in pain?’ Olesya asked, speaking in Russian .

  ‘He sleeps for now,’ Illarion said. ‘He needs time to recover, time to process. To understand that everything he’s been taught about the world is a lie .’

  Illarion didn’t wait for her. He was already moving across the white tiles in the corridor. She had to hurry to catch up. He paused to scratch dark whiskers, then looked through the glass to the next room. Inside she could see Ark’s sister, Val. She was sleeping peacefully .

  ‘So we’re all you’ve got,’ Olesya said. ‘Everyone in that one van ?’

  ‘There was more than one van, but it would be unwise to have you all in one place,’ he said. ‘There are many places like here .’

  She wanted to ask about Xiu, but she already knew the answer. She wasn’t coming. She didn’t belong here, or in China .

  ‘How long have I been here?’ Olesya asked .

  ‘A little over a month,’ he said. ‘You were the quickest for us to deprogram. Congratulations .’

  She stared at him. ‘What do you mean, deprogram ?’

  He clasped his hands behind his back. ‘The Fifth Column programmed your mind. Fortunately, the programming at your stage was preliminary,’ he said. ‘Think of it as a framework. All the wooden beams put in place so at a later stage in your training they can build on it .’

  She frowned. ‘I’m a … house ?’

  ‘The land on which your house is built, that’s the real you. It’s called the archeopsyche ,’ Illarion said. ‘Your house has no rooms yet, it’s big and it’s empty. This new, empty house is called the neopsyche .’

  Olesya crossed her arms. ‘What’s the point of an empty house ?’

  ‘The Fifth Column’s plan is to build rooms,’ he said. ‘Each one has a specific purpose. The living room is for assassination and combat. The cloakroom is for adopting undercover personas. The bedroom is for developing them. The study is for surveillance and gathering of intelligence. And the attic, that’s for self-destruction .’

  ‘To kill yourself,’ Olesya whispered .

  Illarion nodded. ‘The Fifth Column use a simpler framework for their suicide bombers,’ he said .

  ‘They … turn people into bombs ?’

  Illarion ran one hand through his hair. ‘Do you know how hard it is to find a real suicide bomber?’ he said. ‘The Fifth Column’s demand is larger than the supply .’

  ‘So they make their own?’ Olesya asked .

  ‘Two rooms. The living room and the attic. It’s all they need .’

  ‘So we’re just like them? We’re ticking time bombs?’ she said .

  ‘No. Your programming was intended to be more complex. And you were trained to do more. You can move from one room to another as the situation requires,’ Illarion said. ‘Each room feels different. Each window has a different tint, a different color. Things outside appear … altered .’

  ‘How?’

  ‘The man on the street walking his dog; through your window, he looks like the world’s most dangerous terrorist, because that’s what the window reveals to you. That’s what the Fifth Column reveals to you for your operation. Does that make sense ?’

  ‘So I don’t know if he’s a terrorist or just a man?’ she asked .

  ‘To know for sure, you need to leave the house,’ Illarion said. ‘Right now, Val is trapped inside her own house. We need to dismantle it piece by piece until all she has left is her mind .’

  It looked like Val was dreaming. Her eyelids and arms twitched .

  ‘You can’t just open the door and she walks out?’ Olesya asked .

  Illarion paused at another room to check on a boy inside. He lay in his bed with his eyes closed, breathing slowly and calmly. He was from English Squad .

  ‘We opened the door for this boy too soon,’ Illarion said. ‘He refused to step outside .’

  ‘Why?’ Olesya asked .

  ‘The house—his neopsyche —was real to him. He didn’t believe what was outside,’ he said. ‘When we forced him out there, he rejected it. It was not real to him anymore. The man walking the dog was still the terrorist, even without the window .’

  ‘What happened ?’

  ‘He rejected reality. He went back inside and the man was a terrorist once more,’ Illarion said. ‘So we continue to dismantle his house until there is nothing left. When there is no house—when the illusion is destroyed—only then will he see the real world. Only then will he see himself as he really is .’

  ‘And the man walking the dog,’ she said .

  ‘Of course,’ Illarion said. ‘Seeing ourselves as we really are, that is humanity’s greatest challenge. One that most of us will certainly fail .’

  ‘What about these recruits, will they fail?’ Olesya asked .

  ‘It’s my job to ensure they succeed .’

  ‘If you knew all this, then why didn’t you get us out sooner ?’

  ‘We’ve been planning your rescue for two years,’ Illarion said. ‘Believe me, if I could have gotten you out sooner I would’ve done so in a heartbeat .’

  ‘I don’t have to believe you .’

  He studied her with arctic eyes. ‘In the real world, belief is worth nothing .’

  ‘What about my family?’ she asked .

  ‘They’re safe,’ he said. ‘We relocated everyone’s families and helped fund them. When the Fifth Column come looking for you in Russia—and they will—they’ll go for your family first. We won’t let that happen .’

  ‘Can I see them?’ Olesya asked .

  ‘As long as the Fifth Column exists, it’s not safe,’ he said. ‘Your parents still believe you are completing your scholarship .’

  ‘You just said belief is worth nothing .’

  ‘Nothing to us. But it’s everything to the Fifth Column. They run the entire world on belief .’

  ‘Why aren’t we on their side anymore?’ Olesya asked. ‘Because of Project GATE ?’

  ‘And so much more .’

  ‘I want to know,’ Olesya said, folding her arms. ‘Everything .’

  ‘Some say it happened in the 1940s. Others say it was the ’60s. Others say it was now,’ Illarion said. ‘I don’t know when, but I know at some point in history the Fifth Column quietly and gradually took over the United States of America .’

  ‘So that’s why you broke it off?’ Olesya asked .

  Illarion shook his head, slowly .

  ‘They didn’t stop with America,’ he said. ‘They took Russia next. Quietly and gradually. And once they had Russia’s resources and America’s military industrial complex, the Fifth Column tripled their power in just a few years. We were the pipes that fed t
he machine and it was killing us. We lost millions of people to the cold, to starvation, to suicide. Russia could no longer provide for its people. But over the years we formed a splinter faction inside the Fifth Column .’

  Illarion led her into a larger room where others were busy working. They looked up at Illarion and Olesya then resumed their activities .

  ‘We called it the Sixth Column,’ Illarion said. ‘Comprised of Russia, China, some of our neighbors, and a growing resistance inside the United States. But the alliance did not hold. It fractured the day after we rescued you .’

  ‘Why did you rescue us?’ Olesya asked. ‘Are we really that special ?’

  ‘We were planning a major operation to strike at the Fifth Column from within,’ Illarion said. ‘But we underestimated our enemy. They saw us coming and took measures to stop us. They dismantled everything we were doing. They captured many of us before we could free ourselves of their dominion .’

  ‘What about all the other kids from Project GATE, from all the other countries?’ Olesya asked. ‘I could help the Sixth Column rescue them all .’

  Illarion’s gaze drifted to the floor. ‘As I said, the Sixth Column dissolved. Now, we work solely for a clandestine Directorate. Our objective is to protect Russia—and hopefully the world—from the Fifth Column .’

  ‘If we’re protecting the world then I’ll help the Directorate rescue the kids .’

  ‘I want you to help, Olesya. It’s why we’re having this conversation,’ he said. ‘But you need to know the reality of the situation. We aren’t even a fraction as powerful as the Fifth Column. If we tried to rescue your friends we would all be dead before we hit the ground. The remaining children of Project GATE will be trained as planned. They will become black operatives, as planned .’

  ‘Then what am I supposed to become?’ Olesya asked. ‘If I agree to help, you’re training me to be an operative as well. Is that your plan ?’

  ‘No.’ He met her gaze. ‘I’m training you to hunt them .’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Today

  Cartagena, Colombia

  D amien woke suddenly, Nasira’s elbow catching him in the ribs. She was in the back seat, peering through a window with her night vision monocular. Damien was beside her, sitting so low that he’d fallen asleep. Driving in shifts through half of Central America would do that to you. Even with regular changeovers, they’d clocked thirty hours and seven vehicles before they’d even reached Colombia. Her latest steal was an old midnight blue Chevrolet sedan. Damien found the blue an odd choice but didn’t comment. Until they figured out who’d flagged Jay’s passport, they weren’t going anywhere near an airport .

  ‘They’re here,’ she said .

  Damien rubbed his eyes and checked Nasira’s phone. The GPS locator she’d fixed to the vessel was blinking close to the port. Their guess had been right, this port was where they were heading. He looked past the front seat and saw a large lumbering freight vessel approach the Colombian port of Cartagena .

  He checked his watch. The sun would rise soon, but for now the bay was dark and still. On the other side, wafer-thin skyscrapers sparkled in the night .

  ‘They have a bus ready?’ Damien asked .

  ‘Nothing yet,’ she said .

  Damien reached for a fresh bottle of water and slowly opened it. It fizzed, and he cursed. He’d purchased carbonated water by accident again because his Spanish was terrible .

  Nasira kept her eye glued to the monocular. They waited for the vessel to dock .

  She spoke quickly. ‘Standby,’ she said. ‘I think I see the captives .’

  She handed the monocular to him. He peered through and saw four armed guards in civilian clothes guiding two people with hands bound behind their back. They weren’t blindfolded or hooded, but they looked sluggish, sedated .

  ‘OK, I see two of them,’ Damien said .

  ‘Front seat. After me .’

  Damien waited for her to wiggle forward, into the driver’s seat, careful not to bump the wheel and hit the horn. Then he climbed through to the front passenger seat .

  ‘I don’t see a — ’

  ‘There it is,’ Nasira said, looking over the dashboard .

  She didn’t point, but he could see she was watching a small silver van as it pulled up in front of a shipping crane mounted on rail tracks. The van’s headlamps bathed Nasira’s Chevrolet in blue-white light. Damien slid down, just in time to avoid the light catching his pale skin. In the driver’s seat, Nasira slouched low .

  Risking a glance over the dashboard, Damien counted two men in civilian clothes, armed with carbines and rifles, climb out of the van and wait .

  Damien cracked his window open a fraction. The air was still warm and heavy, and he could smell the sea salt. Putting his enhanced hearing to good use, he listened as someone orders to put the two passengers in the van. The engine growled. Nasira flinched. She wanted to move but she couldn’t just yet. Damien rolled up his window .

  He held their last GPS tracker in his hand. ‘I could try and sneak up, slap it on there .’

  Nasira shook her head. ‘I want you to tag them more than anyone. But if their security is half decent, you’ll blow our chances .’

  ‘I know, but if I pull it off, we can follow from a distance and then — ’

  ‘And then they get spooked, switch vehicles and we lose Jay forever,’ Nasira said. ‘No way .’

  Damien nodded. ‘Then we follow by eye .’

  Nasira didn’t respond. She waited in silence as the van drove right past them, oblivious to their presence. Damien remained in the footwell, knees to his chest, listening to the van recede into the distance. He heard Nasira counting to ten, before pulling herself back up and turning the screwdriver in the ignition. Lights off, she made a quick turn. Damien reached for the monocular .

  Dawn was starting to break over the bay .

  Nasira accelerated hard, catching the van as it slipped onto a busy highway. From there they tracked it for fifteen minutes before the traffic slimmed to two lanes and the highway became a one-way freeway. On either side there was paved stone for pedestrians. On the left, gleaming white condominiums and on the right, the stone walls of old town .

  ‘Chute one of two,’ Nasira said .

  She reported the lane as chute , using the surveillance terminology they’d learned as recruits in Project GATE .

  ‘Heading for the coast,’ Damien said, watching the map on her phone. ‘Or maybe Centro .’

  The sky warmed orange. The Chevrolet’s air conditioning wasn’t working, and Damien’s t-shirt was already damp under his arms. He could see beads of sweat collecting on Nasira’s neck, under her coiled hair .

  ‘Uh, we have a problem,’ she said .

  Damien looked over to see the van in chute one, the left-hand lane. It was two vehicles ahead of them and the traffic was starting to thin. But that wasn’t the problem .

  A white Renault 4x4 overtook Nasira and aimed for the van. In his side mirror, Damien caught sight of a second Renault. Their shared distinctive feature: very dark windows .

  ‘Really contrasts against white, huh,’ Nasira said .

  ‘Subtle.’ Damien reached down into the footwell. He opened the folding stock on his Heckler & Koch UMP submachine gun .

  ‘Count?’ Nasira said, remaining calm .

  Damien already knew. ‘Thirteen rounds .’

  She sighed. ‘Pistol ?’

  It was tucked in his waistband with a new magazine. ‘Ten .’

  The foremost Renault accelerated .

  ‘First Renault in front, chute two of two,’ Nasira said .

  Damien looked over to see a taxi push past, oblivious. ‘Second Renault is behind us, chute one of two .’

  It was still in the other lane. He watched in the side mirror as it crept forward, its front wheels lining with Nasira’s rear. He knew why .

  ‘Third vehicle, stacked two back,’ Nasira said. ‘I think they’ve seen us .’

  D
amien noticed a gunmetal gray Daewoo sedan with equally blackened windows .

  Nasira tried to nose her way into the traffic ahead, only to be blocked by the front Renault. Both 4x4s were keeping her boxed in, at the speed they wanted. Damien gripped his UMP in both hands, low enough so no one could see. He wondered if the tinted glass was also bullet-resistant .

  ‘They’re going to spin us out,’ Damien said .

  Nasira growled. ‘The hell they are .’

  She hit the brake, dropping them back suddenly. The Renault overshot and their side crunched into Nasira’s Chevrolet. Damien held on as they turned to the pavement. Nasira corrected it, keeping them in chute two .

  The Renault lined up for another shot. Its front wheel drew level with her rear wheel. Nasira touched the brakes and let them overshoot. She slammed into the side of the Renault, striking its rear wheel. She accelerated into it .

  Damien felt the crunch .

  The Renault driver wasn’t ready. He was already turning the wrong way and it was too late to correct his mistake. His rear wheels lost traction. Damien watched the 4x4 fishtail, then lose control in the high-speed traffic. It spun through the one-way freeway and smashed sidelong into a row of metal bollards .

  Bong bong bong bong .

  The Renault rolled over the bollards and went flying upside down. Glass and metal sheared off in fragments. The car landed on its roof and scraped across the freeway; Nasira jerked her Chevrolet into chute two, narrowly missing it. The Daewoo pulled in behind her, then lurched back into chute one .

  Damien saw it. Nasira saw it. But it was too late .

  The Daewoo clipped Nasira’s rear wheel. She tried to counteract, pulled her wheel in the opposite direction. It wasn’t enough. Damien braced himself, both hands on the dashboard. The Chevrolet fishtailed. They lurched sideways across the two lanes .

  ‘Hold on,’ Nasira said .

  She flicked the wheel right, then left, slipped the stick into reverse .

  The beaten up Chevrolet roared along the freeway, only now it was backward. Damien was face to face with the tinted windshield of the Daewoo. The sunroof slid open and a man with shiny long hair and imitation Ray-Bans emerged. He braced himself with widened elbows and aimed an AK-103 rifle .