revEnge: Black Ops

The Visitors
Chapter One: Gone in Sixty Seconds
Chapter Two: Guidance
Chapter Three: The Challenge of the Hunt
(Home)

His attention was taken when the floor to the side of the helicopter was suddenly lit and one of its doors swung open.  A tall man with a shaven head stepped out and then stood to one side.  A cane then appeared, closely followed by its owner, an older but impeccably dressed man.  Seemingly unaffected by the weather, the newcomers made their way steadily across the rooftop, the taller man giving way to the other.  As they approached him, the lab-coated man began wringing his hands nervously.

                ‘Hi, I mean hello.  Good to see you here again. Not that I think that you don’t come enough, it’s just that we’re excited to show you…’  His words were as awkward as the rest of him.

The man with the cane gestured toward the door with it.

                ‘Are you going to keep us here all night, Mr Francis, or shall we go in?’

                ‘Yes, yes of course,’ he replied hastily, turning toward the door to the building.  He grabbed the handle and yanked.  Nothing happened.  He cursed to himself.  ‘Sorry, your new security.’  He bent toward a scanner, offering his eye.  Nothing.  More curses.  Pulling off his damp glasses he tried once again.  The door clunked as the locks withdrew.  ‘Come, come!’

The three men made their way down a dim corridor, vague emergency lights in the ceiling showing a complex of cables and pipes following their route.  As they went, the visitors were subjected to a hurried recap of progress, the words tumbling out and tripping over themselves like pent-up animals finally released.

                ‘And of course there’s still the power delivery problem, and the interference issues, but-’ the man stopped just short of another door, his damp lab coat flapping as he spun around to face the two men, ‘- you’re going to love what we’ve managed to do!’

                ‘I’m sure,’ replied the older of the two visitors, his leather gloves creaking as he gripped the glass diamond handle of his cane.

Turning back to the door, Francis scanned his retina and pushed it open.

The men passed into a circular observation area; around its circumference were glass windows, angled to give an unrestricted view of the floor below.  The visitors looked down upon a cluttered work area where benches laden with technical equipment were arranged around a mostly clear hexagonal floor space.  Lights pulsed, hard-drive indicators flickered like manic morse code, never-ending blocks of data scrolled up large screens.  Faces of other lab-coated people stared up, paused momentarily in their frantic preparations.  It was a scene of fascination and chaos in equal measure.

                ‘Right, okay,’ said Francis, who had resumed the nervous wringing of his hands, their previous coating of rain water now replaced with perspiration, ‘you stay here – health and safety and all that – and I will get things started.’  With that he almost ran to a set of stairs that lead to the floor below.

Within seconds, an electronic representation of his voice crackled through discrete speakers set around the observation area, a sound quality at odds with the futuristic-looking equipment on the benches.

                ‘So, it may be worth talking through where we were-’

                ‘I think,’ interrupted the older visitor, ‘that we are all up to speed with progress thus far.  As they say in the movies, let’s cut to the chase, Mr Francis.’

                ‘Yes, yes of course.  Let us begin.’

Over the next twenty minutes, the two men watched on as various demonstrations were completed below.  As time passed, their initial stoic, unreadable expressions gave way to ever greater looks of absorbed fascination, their attention absolute until the very end.

                ‘And now’ announced Francis with an almost theatrical delivery, ‘for the pièce de résistance…’

Below, the men typed into keyboards, connected electrical couplings, flicked switches.  When they were all set, they looked between each other, nodding to confirm their readiness.  Francis nodded in return, held his hand over a dramatic red button and looked up at the viewing platform.  The two men looking down stood a little straighter.  The button was pressed; their eyes and smiles grew wide.

                ‘What do you think?’ asked Francis.  The visitors looked between each other.

                ‘Bravo, gentlemen.  Bravo.  You have impressed us with your work.’

                ‘Can I ask…the, er, source of-’

The others in the lab looked up eagerly; expectantly.

                ‘No, Mr Francis.  You cannot ask.’  The tone was level, but final.

On the viewing platform, the communications microphone was muted with a button press.  The older man turned to his colleague.

                ‘I had my doubts but they’ve done it.  Everything.  Can we take it from here?’

                ‘I believe so, yes.’

The older man nodded, turning back to look at the lab below.

                ‘Good,’ he mused, briefly lost in his thoughts before coming back resolute.  ‘Good.  Then you know what to do.’

A nod in response.  The two men turned and walked back the way they had come, their outlines quickly swallowed by the murkiness of the corridor.

Chapter One: Gone in Sixty Seconds

Reece looked at the knife as Jarred twisted it around in his hand, the orange light from the streetlights above glinted from its scored blade.

            ‘Are you planning on using that?’

            ‘Why, think I might stick it in you?’ replied Jarred, a menacing grin splitting the large boy’s face. Jarred may only have been fifteen, the same as Reece, but his size meant he appeared much older and right now Reece didn’t like the look in his eye.  ‘All you need to worry about is doin’ your stuff and I’ll worry about this,’ said Jarred, waving the knife carelessly, as if it were a phone.

Reece looked through the foliage of the bush the two of them were hiding in and down the bank to a car showroom below. As he watched, a man was climbing into each car and driving them back through the high metal gates to the compound behind.   Once parked, the man would then enter the showroom through the glass doors to get the keys to the next vehicle.

            ‘I don’t like this,’ said Reece.

                ‘Are you tryin’ to chicken out on me?’ demanded Jarred.  Reece stared back at the large boy for a few moments before sighing, slipping his backpack off and unzipping it.

             ‘That’s a good boy,’ said Jarred.

Reece reached into his bag and pulled out a small netbook computer; he hit the power button and whilst he waited for it to boot up he pulled out his phone from his jeans pocket.

            ‘You sure you can kill that camera?’ asked Jarred, looking at the device fixed to the top of the building.  It was emitting a dim red glow from its infrared sensors.

            ‘I’m sure,’ replied Reece, confidently, not looking up from his phone.

            ‘Well you’d better be damn sure.  I don’t want my face splashed all over Crime Watch.’

            The man below had now driven all but two of the cars into the compound and was walking toward the remaining vehicles. Reece launched an application on his phone that displayed a radar-like image on the screen.  The cars on the forecourt appeared as a slowly pulsing blips as Reece’s phone software picked up the signal emitted from their alarm system.

            ‘The BMW?’ he asked.

            ‘Are you joking?’ said Jarred.  ‘Nah, that one.’  He nodded toward the remaining car on the forecourt: an Aston Martin Vanquish, its gleaming silver paint was reflecting the orange of the streets lamps.  It looked stunning with its huge sports alloys and tinted windows.

            ‘The Aston? You sure? It’s a bit…showy.  It’s going to attract attention.’

            ‘It don’t matter what it is.  The way I’m gonna drive it, it’ll be noticed!’

Reece looked between Jarred, the knife and the car below; this wasn’t him, this wasn’t what he was about. But it was too late to back out now, Jarred would not be happy. Not happy at all. And besides, he wasn’t doing this for himself, or Jarred for that matter. But it was best not to think too much about that right now; he needed his head clear.

Down below, the man had parked the BMW and was making his way out of the showroom and toward the Aston, the key fob in his hand.

            ‘Get ready!’ hissed Jarred.

Reece pressed a button on the screen of his phone and pointed the device as far forward as he could, just as the man below lifted the key fob and unlocked the Aston. As the car’s indicators flashed and the locks clunked, Reece’s phone beeped in response.  The blip on the screen that represented the Aston turned red and pulsed rapidly as the device successfully detected and recorded the car’s alarm signal.

            ‘Got it!’

Jarred grinned and they both watched as the man climbed into the car and fired up the engine.  The noise of it sent a tingle down Reece’s spine.  Jarred let out a laugh of anticipation.

            ‘Yeh, baby; you’re mine!’

They remained where they were, hunkered down in the bushes as they watched the man step out of the car, briefly re-enter the showroom and then step back outside to lock up.  They could hear the sound of the intruder alarm initialising.  The man then walked across to the main gates and pulled them closed after him, snapping a large padlock through before leaving in his own car.

            ‘About time,’ said Jarred.  ‘Kill that camera.’

Reece turned back to the netbook and clicked an icon on the desktop; seconds later an application loaded onto the small screen.

            ‘Just keep a watch out,’ he said as he typed long lines of commands into the keyboard, occasionally looking in the direction of the showroom.

Jarred was getting restless waiting for Reece to do his thing.

            ‘Come on!’

            ‘Wait,’ replied Reece through gritted teeth, his fingers still flicking expertly across the keyboard.  ‘I’m in.  Just need to access the security control system.’

After a few moments Reece hit the enter key in a decisive manner and with a dull clunk the lock to the showroom released and the dim red glow of the security camera went out.

            ‘Result!’ exclaimed Jarred and he rose to his feet and burst from the bush.

            ‘Wait!’ said Reece but Jarred was already halfway down the grassy bank, a stout set of bolt-croppers swinging in his right hand.  With a thrill of adrenaline, Reece thrust the computer back into his bag and jumped out after Jarred.

He ran down the slope, his feet struggling to grip and more than once he slipped, only just managing to regain his balance.  By the time he had reached the bottom, Jarred was already using his considerable strength to cut the padlock from the gate.  With a loud snap the lock gave way and Jarred plucked it out and tossed it aside, wrenching the gates open.  Reece followed the bigger youth toward the Aston, keeping his face away from the direction of the camera just in case.

Jarred reached the car first; his face was alive with desire and he was stroking it like it were a favourite pet, making appreciative noises.

            ‘Get this thing open!’ he demanded. Reece pressed a couple of buttons on his phone.  The device emitted the disarm signal that it had detected from the key fob when the man had moved it. The car’s locks clunked and the lights flashed.

            ‘Oh yeah!’ said Jarred and he pulled open the door and jumped into the driver’s seat, ducking below the dashboard.  Reece looked around, expecting the sound of sirens at any moment.  There was a loud snap from within the car and moments later the engine roared to life.  Jarred whooped with delight.  Lowering the passenger-side window, he shouted across to Reece.

            ‘Are you gettin’ in or what?’

            ‘Nah, don’t think so. I’ve done what you wanted,’ said Reece, stepping back from the car as if it were a rabid dog that looked like biting him.  ‘I’m going into town.  Get a burger or something.’

            ‘Get in, I’ll give you a lift.’

            ‘Don’t bother; I’m good.  Anyway, have you got it?’

            ‘Huh?’ grunted Jarred absentmindedly as he poked and jabbed at various buttons on the dash.

            ‘I’ve done what you wanted, now it’s your turn.’

Jarred laughed scornfully.

            ‘What is it with you, anyway?’ he said.  Shaking his head, he reached into a large inside jacket pocket that he’d sewn in himself for better shoplifting purposes and pulled out a black notepad.  It contained so many bits of paper that the owner had placed an elastic band around it to keep it closed.

            ‘You should see the crap in there,’ barked Jarred.  ‘What a loser!  I don’t know why you’re bothering.  Do y’think you’ve got a chance or something?’  Jarred laughed ironically once more and tossed the book out of the window.

            ‘I’m just doing her a favour,’ said Reece, stowing the notepad quickly into his backpack.

            ‘Sure you don’t want a lift?’

            ‘Nah.’

            ‘You’re pathetic!’ barked Jarred, stabbing at the throttle pedal and making the engine shriek.

            ‘See you back at Speranza,’ said Reece.  He turned to walk away and his heart suddenly pounded painfully in his chest – there was someone standing by the open gates, staring at them.

            ‘Oy!  Get out of that car!’

Reece momentarily grabbed at his chest, the pain was so bad.

            ‘Get in!’ bellowed Jarred, who was now gunning the throttle so hard that the car was rocking from side to side.  Reece stood, staring between the car and the man, who was now hurrying toward them.

            ‘Reece!  Now!  I’m going!’

Reece paused for just one second more before he dived for the Aston’s passenger door. Falling into the chair, he grabbed at the seatbelt just as Jarred jammed the gear lever into first and floored the accelerator.  For a few seconds they didn’t move as the car’s back wheels spun furiously.  Reece felt the back end start to move sideways and then, with the tyres screaming, the car gained traction and thrust forward.

It took mere seconds to cover the space to the gate; the man who had disturbed them jumped for his life as the car sped past.  Flying through the open gates, Jarred hit the brakes and pulled hard to the right so as to keep from hitting the curb.  With the car pointing in the right direction, Jarred once more pushed hard on the accelerator; again the back wheels squealed in protest before rocketing them down the road.  In the passenger seat, Reece was still struggling to get his seatbelt secured.

            ‘Just slow it down,’ he demanded, one hand holding onto the handle above the door for support.

            ‘Where the hell’s your sense of adventure?’ yelled Jarred, an insane grin etched into his face as he threw the car ever more wilfully around the road.  Reece was begrudgingly impressed in the large boy’s ability behind the wheel but he absolutely didn’t want to be in the car when the driver inevitably ran out of talent and put it through a wall on its roof.

They sped through the town, narrowly avoiding other vehicles and pedestrians as Jarred jumped red lights and negotiated traffic islands at terrifying speeds.  Soon they emerged onto the bypass, which was a faster but more open road.

            ‘What’s that noise, anyway?’ said Jarred as he drove around an island on what felt to Reece like two wheels.  Reece had heard the muffled beeping but assumed that it was some sort of in-car alert, probably one that warned of dangerous driving.  However, there seemed to be nothing on the dash and it suddenly occurred to Reece that it was coming from his pocket. He pulled out his phone and stared at the screen.

            ‘Damn!’

            ‘Damn what?’ asked Jarred, recklessly overtaking a Porsche. 

            ‘The car – it’s got a tracker installed!’

            ‘Can you fix it?’

            ‘I can jam the signal but there’s no point.’

            ‘Why?’

Reece didn’t have to explain; the sound of sirens yelled from somewhere behind them and the flash of blue light flared in the mirrors.

Jarred swore but Reece thought that the triumphant look on his face told a different story.  This was what he’d been hoping for – the thrill of the chase.

            ‘Come on, Jarred; let’s ditch it before we’re caught!’

The response from Jarred was emphatic; he pushed the accelerator pedal to the carpet and the scenery became a blur. Behind them the police car continued to chase, siren wailing and the blue of its lights rebounding off everything in sight.  Up ahead the traffic was getting heavier but this did not seem to concern Jarred, who passed the cars as if they were stationary.  With the police making ground, the Aston was yanked hard left at the last moment and they shot up a slip road.  Behind them, the police car saw the move and just managed to follow, the front of the car bumping up over a raised curb.

            ‘Hold on!’ yelled Jarred as they reached the top of the slip road and jumped the red lights.  A car coming from the right swerved, its tyres screeching into the night before it embedded itself in a barrier, steam jetting from a ruptured radiator.  Jarred whooped loudly as they took the third exit off the island and headed back into town.

Reece stared out of the back window.

            ‘He’s catching us.  Ditch it!’

Jarred looked like he had no intention of stopping but then more blue lights flashed into view up ahead as another police car joined the chase, blocking their exit through the top of the high-street.

Jarred swerved the car around a bollard and sped up a narrow access road to the shop fronts.

            ‘Watch out!’ yelled Reece as a metal barrier blocked their way ahead.  Jarred jumped on the brakes and the car slid into the obstruction with a horrendous crunch.

            ‘Leg it!’ laughed Jarred.

Reece yanked at his seatbelt before finally finding the button that released it.  Within seconds he was out of the car and running desperately in the same direction as Jarred.  He risked a glance over his shoulder – the two police cars had pulled up dramatically behind the bent Aston and four policemen were hounding after them.

As he ran through gawping late-night shoppers who jumped out of their way as they barrelled through, Reece’s chest began to sear with pain.  Automatically he grabbed at it with a hand but the more he ran, the worse it became until he could feel his breath becoming short and his vision began to tunnel.

Up ahead, Jarred had reached the other side of the town centre and made for a waiting bus.  Jumping in through the open door, he turned and shouted at Reece.

            ‘What’s the matter, nerd; that heart of yours playing you up?’

With the sound of heavy feet just yards behind, Reece willed his legs to go faster but as he watched Jarred turned from the doors, spoke with the driver and sat down.  The bus closed its doors, stirred it’s engine and pulled away, Jarred laughing heartily at him through the window.

Behind him the chasing officers were yelling at him to stop, but there was no way he was going to be caught for Jarred.

Barging through a group of shoppers exiting the centre, Reece grabbed desperately for the door handle.  He yanked open the glass door and sprang through, his rucksack jostling upon his back.  As he ran across the shiny chequered floor of the foyer, the policemen charged through in pursuit.

With his breath coming in gasps, Reece reached an escalator and ran up its steps, shunting people to the side as he went.  Just yards behind him, the police were shouting into their radios as they climbed after him.  After what felt like a mountain climb, Reece reached the top.  With a swift kick, he triggered the escalator’s emergency stop.  All down the slope, people yelled with surprise as they were pitched forward.

Leaving the escalator he ran on, looking around desperately for an escape route.  Across the wide floor flanked by outlets and busy with shoppers, Reece saw a door with an emergency exit sign above it.  Battling against the pain in his chest he ran for it as the police stumbled their way to the top of the escalator.  Reaching the door he barrelled through and slammed it shut behind him.  On his left was a tall trolley filled with tubs of cleaning fluids and other cleaning equipment; he dragged it against the door just as the police tried to get through it.  The whole trolley shook violently as the men tried shouldering their way through.  Turning he saw a window and next to it a set of concrete steps going downward.  He ran to the steps.

            ‘Stop there, kid!’

He stared; below a man dressed in overalls leant his mop against the wall and started up the stairs toward him.  Reece cursed to himself; the trolley lodged against the door was putting up a good fight but was starting to lean dramatically and any moment they would be through it.  He turned from the staircase, pulled up the window latch and lifted the window.  Reece climbed onto the sill and looked down; the ground was several meters away and it looked hard.  The pain in his chest writhed and bit like a nest of venomous snakes.  His vision swam.

There was a crash as the trolley tipped over, sending mops, buckets and the green contents of split cleaning fluid tubs across the concrete floor.

            ‘Don’t move!’ yelled one of the policemen.  Reece looked between the pavement outside and the furious looks on the officer’s faces.

            ‘No chance,’ he mumbled and dropped.

He felt an odd lightness in his stomach before the floor came up hard and slammed into his feet.  His legs gave way and his knees plunged into his chest, winding him.

For a few moments he just lay there in the orange light of a dimly-lit access way, moaning.  From up above, a shout brought him to his senses.  Pushing himself up, he briefly checked himself over – amazingly nothing seemed to be broken.

            ‘You!  Stay right where you are!’

Reece stared up at the officers and then turned – there was a blaze of light and a raucous engine sound coming from behind him.  Shielding his eyes against the glare, he watched as a refuse lorry came down the narrow road.  It slowed as it neared him, negotiating its way past a pair of bollards.

            Reece looked at the truck and then up at the window.  One of the officers had vanished and was presumably on his way down.

            ‘Don’t you dare!’ shouted the other.

Reece jumped onto the back of the truck as it passed down the street.  As he hung on to the vehicle, he looked back to where he had jumped from, the policeman was thumping the windowsill in frustration.  Reece smiled as the driver, unaware he had a stowaway, accelerated into the night.

Chapter Two: Guidance

Reece trudged up the gravel driveway toward Speranza House, his chest hurting him from where his knees had tried to smash through his ribs and his feet aching from both the fall and the walk.

Speranza was a tall and imposing building created in the early twentieth century; it was four stories high, including the attic rooms, and almost the entire frontage was covered in a rampant ivy that was slowly consuming the tired building.   For decades it had been privately owned by someone as their home.  Reece would often glance around its impressive stairways and mullioned windows and try to imagine how it would be to have grown up in such a place, with a loving family that laughed together, dined together and played piano in the drawing room together.  But for Reece, who had never known any real family, it was as alien a concept as quantum physics.  In fact Reece would probably be more likely to understand quantum physics than normal home life.

But Speranza House was no longer a private family residence but a care home for those that had nowhere better to go.  Its interior was, thought Reece, as faded and jaded as those that now took refuge under its roof.

There was a tall iron lamp in the centre of the round driveway, its black paint was bubbling and peeling badly and the glass was so grimy that the light it gave off was little more than a glow.  Reece passed it and made his way toward the light of the porch.  He reached for the door handle but was surprised when it opened without him touching it.

            ‘Reece?  Where on earth have you been, boy?’

It was Bernard, the head carer.  In the dim light of the hall, his eyes seemed to shine brightly from the darkness of his skin.

            ‘I…err…’

            ‘It’s late – almost early in fact!’

            ‘Sorry,’ said Reece, adjusting his backpack needlessly.  ‘I’ve been for a walk.’

            ‘Where to, Jamaica?’

There was a silence where Bernard waited for more information and Reece waited for him to give up waiting.  In the end, Bernard sighed heavily and waved him over the threshold.

            ‘You realise that I should follow the rules and lock you outside until the morning, don’t you?’

            ‘You wouldn’t,’ replied Reece with a trace of a grin, ‘you’re too nice a guy.’

            ‘Don’t try me,’ grunted Bernard but there was no trace of threat in it.

There was a clunk as the door was shut and locked.  Reece started toward the stairs.

            ‘Now that you’re here, Reece, maybe you could help me with a bit of a computer problem.  After all, you are the resident techno-expert.’

Reece paused with one foot on the bottom step.

            ‘Aren’t you going to bed?’ he asked.

            ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got some work to finish first and it looks like my internet’s decided it wants to turn in!  I’m sure it won’t take you two seconds to sort it, eh?’

Reece sighed; after the evening he’d had, he suspected that he’d have trouble getting to sleep anyway.

            ‘Okay,’ he said and turned from the stairs.

            ‘Excellent,’ smiled Bernard and he lead the way to the office.

The office was a large room with a wide bay window looking over the dark grounds; the faded and well-trodden carpet was a fussy red and gold colour and the peeling wallpaper was similar.  However, Reece thought that with its deep armchairs, packed bookshelves and a large, crackling fire, it was comfortable and welcoming and for the first time since he got inside the stolen car that afternoon, he felt himself relax.

            ‘Over there,’ said Bernard, pointing to the computer on the cluttered desk.

Reece walked over, took a seat and started typing into the keyboard.

            ‘Fancy a hot drink?  Coffee?  Tea?’  Reece made a non-committal noise.  ‘Go on; I’m having one anyway.  Coffee?  I’ve got decaf.’

            ‘Yeh, ok.  Thanks.’

As Reece looked over the computer, Bernard made drinks at a work surface next to a small sink.

            ‘So, you not going to tell me where you were walking from tonight?  You’re lucky that I had work to do or you’d be curled up in the garden by now.’

Reece glanced up quickly to try and judge Bernard’s mood but he had his back to the room, clattering around with the cups and spoons at a sink.  He shrugged and looked back at the screen.

            ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ said Bernard, raising his voice over the loud grumble of the kettle.  ‘But remember that I’m here to try and help.’

            ‘It’s your IP address,’ said Reece, not looking up from the keyboard.

            ‘It’s my what, you say?’

            ‘Your IP address – you’ve lost it.  I’ve rebooted your broadband router; it’s working now.’

            ‘Oh, that’s great, Reece, thanks.’

Bernard finished making the drinks, took them over to two seats by the fire and placed Reece’s on the hearth before collapsing into a chair with a groan.

            ‘Don’t let it go cold,’ he said, gesturing at the drink next to the empty chair.  Reece took a deep breath – he could feel the approach of one of Bernard’s not-so-subtle guidance sessions.  ‘Come on; keep some company with an old man!’

            ‘You’re not old, you’re only, what, forty-five?’

            ‘Forty-nine, actually but it feels more tonight.’

Reece paused for a little longer before rolling his eyes and rising from the desk.  He may not be in the mood for a pep talk but the warmth of that fire was attractive.

            ‘That’s better,’ said Bernard, handing Reece his drink.

For a while nobody spoke; Reece stared into the crackling fire, watching the embers glow and collapse in on themselves, but all the time he did so he could feel the eyes of Bernard studying him over the top of his coffee cup.

            ‘Jarred was in late tonight too,’ said Bernard in a voice he must have considered was casual.  Reece’s stomach felt like it had been force-fed an iron bar.  He tried to appear uninterested in this news.

            ‘Yeh?  Did you give him a hard time too?’

            ‘You think this is a hard time?’ laughed Bernard, but he fell silent for a while before continuing.  ‘I was hoping that you’d be able to tell me what he’s been up to.’

            ‘How would I know?’ said Reece, taking too large a swig of hot coffee and spluttering.

            ‘Just thought you may’ve been out with him, that’s all.’  Reece didn’t answer and so Bernard pressed on.  ‘I shouldn’t say it maybe, but he’s trouble that one.’

            ‘You can’t throw a stick in here without hitting someone that’s been in trouble,’ said Reece.

            ‘True,’ admitted Bernard, ‘but there’s a difference between being in trouble and being trouble.’

            ‘I can handle myself,’ said Reece, shrugging dismissively.

            ‘You’re a good kid, Reece, your head’s on straight.  Don’t get mixed up in Jarred’s games.  You’ve got a future ahead of you, a trade that’ll see you right.  You just need to sit tight for a while.’

Reece let out an ironic laugh – he knew what he was hinting at.  Speranza House was not Reece’s first care home.  Not even close.  In fact, he’d only been here for nine months; before that it’d been somewhere else far away and before that somewhere else.  Bernard would joke about him having ‘commitment problems’, that he ‘only stayed somewhere long enough to charge his laptop’.   Always on the verge of running, that’s what he thought.

            ‘It was a risk giving you a room,’ said Bernard with a thoughtful expression.  ‘Any unnecessary attention from the police could lead to, well, complications for you.’

Reece remembered the day well.  It had been winter, a particularly bitter one at that.  He’d travelled for hours on the train, sleeping much of it, before being forced to jump off when the conductor demanded his non-existent ticket.  Tiredness and the cold had forced him into sheltering in the dark doorway of an abandoned cinema.  It was there that Bernard had found him by chance.   Normally you only got to live at Speranza House if you were referred by the authorities; however, Bernard had taken him back anyway, making him up a room in the loft.  Reece had not felt much like running since.  Much.

            ‘It’s not like I’m looking for trouble.’

            ‘And all I’m saying is that, depending upon who you hang around with, trouble can end up finding you.  Just…I don’t know, just trust yourself, your instincts.  Sometimes you’re the only one you can trust.’

            ‘Deep,’ replied Reece, but he nodded and turned back to look at the flames thoughtfully.

            ‘Apart from me,’ added Bernard, laughing in a way that suggested that he too had felt the mood needed lightening.

            ‘I don’t even trust you, Bernard; you said you wanted me out so you could put a snooker table in my room.’

            ‘Ah, but I was only joking!’

            ‘You’d have to be – you would have trouble getting a pool table in there.’

Bernard laughed again and Reece took one last, deep swig of coffee before wiping his mouth and placing the cup back down on the hearth.

            ‘Suppose I’d best be going up.’

            ‘Yeh, me too,’ said Bernard.

            ‘I thought you had work to do?’ pointed out Reece, looking cynically at Bernard.

            ‘Nah; got to get my beauty sleep.’

            Reece walked to the door and turned.

            ‘In that case, you’d better have a lie-in.’

            ‘Cheeky bugger!’

Reece left the room, feeling Bernard’s eyes linger on him.  He climbed the ornate, creaky staircase, trying not to make too much noise; there were some residents at Speranza that wouldn’t take too kindly to being awoke in the early hours.  Jarred being one of them.  However, when he reached the second landing on his way to the loft, a door opened as he passed it.  He knew whose door that was and turned.

            ‘What’re you doing up so late?’  The voice belonged to a girl; she had one hand on her slim hips whilst the other was leaning against the door jam.  Her long brown hair was draped smoothly across her shoulders and Reece couldn’t help thinking that it didn’t look like it had seen a pillow.

            ‘I could ask you the same question,’ he countered.

            ‘I was up, heard someone stamping up the stairs, thought I’d take a look.  So what’s your excuse?”

            ‘I was out for a walk, that’s all.’

            ‘Really?  Where to, Edinburgh?’

            ‘Don’t you start,’ said Reece, frowning.  The girl studied him with her green eyes slightly narrowed.  Reece thought they looked red and a little puffy.  ‘Anyway, it’s good that I’ve bumped into you, Jenna.’

            ‘Why?’ she asked, suspiciously.  Reece slipped his bag from his shoulder and unzipped it.

            ‘Here,’ he said, offering her the black notebook he had taken from Jarred.  Jenna took a sudden breath and stared at it.

            ‘How…where…?’  She turned her shocked stare to Reece’s face.

            ‘I got it from Jarred.’

            ‘What, and he just handed it over?’  Her voice was almost accusing somehow.

            ‘Not exactly.  I had to do something for him first.  It’s back now and that’s what matters.’

            Jenna studied Reece for a few moments before she dropped her gaze, her brow furrowing.

            ‘You’ve not looked at it?’ she said.

            ‘No.  Honest,’ replied Reece, who thought it best not to mention that Jarred had.

Jenna took a deep, shuddering breath and made to open it as if she wanted to check that everything was still there, but she changed her mind and pulled it instead into her chest, locking her arms around it as if it were a cushion.  She looked up at Reece, opened her mouth to say something but stopped.

            ‘Thanks,’ she said simply before stepping backward and grabbing the door-handle.

            ‘Wait, Jenna…’

            ‘I said thanks.  And goodnight, I suppose.’

            With that, Jenna shut the door in Reece’s face.

*

The next day seemed as reluctant to start as Reece.  The sky was cloudy and dull, an unending mass of damp grey hanging low over the rooftops.  Reece put off rising for as long as he could before hunger forced him up.  Walking over to the small window alcove, he looked out.  Amongst all the randomness of the buildings that lay sprawled and cluttered before him, one feature took his eye as usual: the main road out of the city.  He let his eyes be attracted to the long, straight construction as it split the jumble of the city sprawl and led off into the unknown horizon.  It seemed to point like an arrow…

His thoughts were interrupted by a squeal from the door handle and a thump at the door; with a sigh he turned away.

            ‘Oy, Reece; are you alive in there or are you dead in your pit?’

Reece unconsciously rubbed at his chest, the memories of the previous day speeding back recklessly, just like the car they had taken.

Of all the people that Reece wanted to avoid today, Jarred was at the very top of the list.  He considered not answering at all but Jarred’s hammering was threatening to cave the door in.  He unlocked it, unsure as to why he’d used the lock in the first place, and opened it.

            ‘Yeh?  What’s up?’

Jarred charged in with a stupid grin on his face, clearly still buzzing from last night.

            ‘Ha ha!  You made it back then,’ he said, whacking Reece on the shoulder as he barged passed.  He fell into a chair at a desk and swung his filthy boots onto the bed.

            ‘No thanks to you.’

            ‘Oh dear,’ said Jarred, pulling a pretend sad face, ‘did I upset you?’

Reece gave him a scornful look before grabbing his jeans and pulling them on.

            ‘You know the score,’ continued Jarred, ‘it’s every man for himself.  Or every boy, in your case.’

            ‘Whatever.’

A sly grin grew on Jarred’s face.

            ‘Did you give miss prissy her book back yet?’

            ‘Yes.’ replied Reece, not meeting the bigger boy’s eyes.

            ‘Already!  I’m impressed.  Did you pay her a little night-time visit?  Yeh, you wish!’  Jarred let out a dark laugh.

            ‘Is that it?  Are we done now?  I need some breakfast.’

            ‘What is it with you?  You’re no fun, nerdy boy.’  Jarred turned in his chair and played with the items on Reece’s desk, paying particular attention to what looked like a shark tooth necklace.  ‘Gross,’ he said with disgust.  ‘Is it one of yours?’  Not waiting for a reply, he threw it back down.  He turned his gaze back to Reece and, in particular, his dirty jeans.  ‘When’re you going to get some new gear anyway?  You’ve had those jeans since, what, the day you turned up here?’

Reece looked down at them; he had to admit that they were looking tired, just like the rest of his wardrobe.  Reece inwardly scoffed at the thought of his “wardrobe”; he only had a few items – just enough to squeeze into his backpack.

            ‘And where am I supposed to get the money from?’ he said.

            ‘I dunno – get a job?’. Jarred laughed as if getting an actual job was the biggest of jokes.

            ‘Oh yeh, that’s going to happen,’ said Reece, sounding suddenly bitter.  ‘I’m so spoilt for choice, having no legitimate home address and all that.’

            ‘Relax; would I ever seriously recommend actually getting a job?  There’s always ways of getting money when you need it.’

Reece didn’t much like the look that stole across Jarred’s face at this point.

            ‘I would rather try and find work than resort to your methods.’

            ‘Suit yourself, but you’ve already said it: who’s going to give you a chance?  Nah, we’re all the same, all in the same boat.’

Reece hated the thought of being the same as Jarred.

            ‘Think about it,’ continued Jarred, ‘done any work for Bernard lately?’

            ‘Maybe.’

            ‘Yeh?  Get paid?’

Reece couldn’t hide his reaction in time.

            ‘There you go; he’s the closest thing we’ve got to family here and even he’s rippin’ you off.’

            ‘Doesn’t matter.’

            ‘Yeh, keep telling yourself that.  Besides, you don’t have to resort to my methods,’ said Jarred, cracking his knuckles absently.  ‘You can use that thing.’  Jarred gestured over to the netbook, which was lying on top of Reece’s backpack.  ‘Bet it’d be dead easy.  You wouldn’t have to even hit anyone or break anything…’

Reece stared down at the device for a little too long and Jarred barked a laugh that made him jump.

            ‘Yes!  There you go, you’re thinkin’ about it, aren’t you?’  Jarred wore an intense, hungry expression.  ‘Maybe we could go into business, you and me.  You’d be the brains, I’d be the muscle.  We could be minted!’

            ‘I need breakfast,’ said Reece, holding the door open for Jarred in a “this conversation is over” type of way.  However, once Jarred had stomped out, Reece paused in the doorway, staring down at the netbook as it sat, invitingly, in the corner of the room.  With a groan, he walked out, putting the door firmly between him and the computer.

Chapter Three: The challenge of the hunt

The rain hammered against the cafe window as Reece sat next to it; his knees were pulled up to his chest and his hands were clasped around his half empty coffee cup.  He’d been staring out to the rain-soaked street for over an hour now and he suspected that his coffee was cold.  He’d have got.  himself a new one if he wasn’t down to his last few coppers.  Besides, it wasn’t the coffee that concerned him.  He took his eyes away from the window and looked down at his backpack; the zip was half open and the blue metallic of his netbook computer glinted out from within.  With an audible groan he turned away from the bag and looked back outside as snatches of conversation went around in his head.

            “Don’t get mixed up in Jarred’s games; you’ve got a future ahead of you,” said Bernard.

            “There’s always ways of getting money when you need it,” countered Jarred.

            “…a trade that’ll see you right,” said Bernard.

            “Who’s going to give you a chance?” questioned Jarred’sdisillusionedvoice.

            “Trouble can end up finding you,” warned Bernard.

Reece closed his eyes and rubbed them, hoping that it would clear the voices from within his head.  Opening them once more, he watched as a well-dressed couple emerged from a jewellery shop across the road, smiling as they huddled beneath a large umbrella.  The woman was admiring a ring on her finger and the man wore a smug look.

It must be great being able to buy what you wanted, when you wanted, thought Reece, who was suddenly conscious of the dampness of his right foot caused by the hole in his trainer.

The door to the cafe opened and a harassed-looking woman struggled in with a child in a buggy.  As she grappled with the shopping bags that were slung over the buggy’s handles so that they would fit through the door, two young children barged passed her, soaking wet and whooping with excitement.

            ‘Elliot, Luke!  Will you please calm down!’ she demanded as she pushed the dripping buggy into the corner of the room and unstrapped the small girl from within it.  Reece watched the scene with mild interest; the children were probably siblings and the woman their mother.  It may have been a scene of stress and chaos, but Reece felt an odd sensation writhe from somewhere deep within.  As he watched the boys laugh at their mother’s attempts to admonish them for upending the saltcellar, he couldn’t suppress a small smile.

Lifting his coffee cup, he took a swig; it was indeed cold and he nearly spat it back into the cup in disgust.  Someone left the cafe and the gust of cold wind from outside made him pull his thin jacket closer around him.  The woman ordered some hot chocolate for the children and a coffee for herself before reaching into her bag and pulling out her mobile phone.

            ‘Will you just sit still for one moment?  No, Elliot, you can’t take your shoes off.  Just be quiet while I transfer some money online.’

At the last sentence Reece, who had only been half listening, felt his brain switch to full alert – the woman was going to access her bank account using her phone.  She asked a member of staff what their WiFi password was; the girl at the till shouted it out and the woman typed it into the phone’s screen.  Reece sat up straight in his chair and felt his heart pound suddenly in his chest.   Jarred’s voice came to him once more.

            “…it’d be dead easy; you wouldn’t have to even hit anyone or break anything…”

The woman stared at her phone as if trying to remember how to get it to do what she wanted.  Reece looked down – the netbook was just there, in arms reach, all he had to do was lift it out, turn it on and latch onto the woman’s phone over the cafe’s wireless network.  He reached down; putting his hand into the bag he felt the cool metallic case of the computer under his fingertips.

            ‘Mummy, can I have that cuddly owl from the shop?’

            ‘Oh, Luke,’ moaned the woman, ‘where exactly is the money going to come from?  I can hardly pay the electric bill this month.’

Reece pulled his hand away from the bag as if it’d stung him.  How could he have even thought about it?  He felt a wave of shame wash over him and he turned back to the window, not really taking in the view.

Reece had no idea how long he sat there; he felt oddly detached, as if he were watching himself from afar.  The woman eventually found time between trying to control her wayward children to finish her coffee.  She struggled her daughter back into the buggy and went, leaving the place suddenly quiet and Reece alone.  He watched the family hurry down the wet street, still feeling guilt at even considering taking money from them.

As he stared through the blurred window, another hurrying shape passed, a man with his suit jacket lifted over his head and a bag slung over one arm.  A moment later and the cafe door opened and the man entered, shaking himself down on the doormat like dog.  Reece looked at him; he was quite unremarkable, just over average height with thin, receding hair, glasses and the rather pallid look of someone that doesn’t get much sunlight.  However, whilst his suit was soaked from the rain, its close fit and neat cut suggested that it was probably expensive.

 The man approached the counter and ordered a drink before collapsing down at the table two away from where Reece sat.  As he waited for his drink to arrive he placed his bag on the chair next to him, removed his glasses and dried the lenses on a crisp white handkerchief that he took from the inside pocket of his jacket.  Reece watched him, wondering idly what it was that the man did for a living.  A lawyer maybe?  Or an accountant?  He looked like a details type of person.

The waitress came to the man’s table and placed his drink down.  He thrust his hand into his pocket and removed a wallet thick with cards and cash before giving the very appreciative waitress a tip.  When Reece saw the cash, he felt that odd squirming sensation in his stomach once more.

            ‘Thanks, Mary,’ said the man.

            ‘You’re welcome, Bill.  How’s work?’

            ‘Busy, as usual.’

There was a ringing noise and the man reached into his jacket once more, pulling out a phone.  Reece’s heart thumped in his chest, his eyes flicked involuntarily to his bag.

            He shouldn’t, he thought.  But if anyone could afford to lose a bit…

            ‘Bill Fenton.  Oh, hello, Frank,’ said Bill, talking into his phone whilst holding onto his coffee cup.  ‘How’re things?  Really?  That’s a shame…’

Reece wrestled with his guilt as the man continued to talk on the phone.

            I couldn’t connect to his phone anyway, thought Reece, he’s not asked for the WiFi password.

            ‘What, my place?’ said Bill into the phone.  ‘It’s crazy – you should see the stuff we’ve been working on.’  Bill’s voice dropped slightly.  ‘I mean, my God, Frank, if I could only tell you.  I’ve absolutely no idea where it’s come from.  What?  Oh yeh, if they found out I’d said anything…’

Reece, who’d been on the verge of leaving, became aware that he was listening in to the conversation without really meaning to.

            ‘No; no way, they locked the place down.  Solid.  Did it as soon as we won the contract.  They came in with van loads of computer and security equipment; I reckon our place is more secure than the bloody pentagon.’

Reece suddenly realised that his body was absolutely rigid with concentration.

            ‘We’ve been working on it now for nearly five years, but the major breakthrough has only happened in the last eight months.  Still, can’t say anything.’

Bill took a deep swig of coffee from his cup.

            ‘You think I’m joking?  They’re a serious bunch, they may even be tapping our phones!’  Bill said it like it was a joke but he looked around anyway, as if he was expecting to see shadowy figures watching him.  His eyes met Reece’s and for a moment their gazes were locked.  A look of concern flicked across Bill’s face and Reece quickly moved his eyes to the window, watching the man’s reflection in the darkening glass.  After a pause, Bill continued to talk into his phone.  Feeling conspicuous sitting there not doing anything, Reece pulled out his netbook from his backpack, turned it on and pretended to do something whilst continuing to listen to Bill’s conversation.

            ‘Holidays?’ said Bill.  ‘No, too much on.  Although the company have organised some sort of corporate outing.  They must be insane; we’re all too busy.  Anyway, should get off; I’ve got some work to finish.  I shouldn’t have taken the laptop out again but still, I’ll be in trouble for that one if they find out.  Okay, Frank; look after yourself.’

Bill ended the call, reached into the bag on the chair next to him and lifted out a sleek laptop.  Opening it up, he prodded a button on the side and then sat back and drank some more coffee whilst it booted.

Reece could feel the pulse of his heart against his clothes.  Having memorised the cafe’s wireless network password, he located the signal and logged on, his hands shaking slightly over the keyboard.  Money was no longer his aim; just like Jarred who lived for the chase, Reece couldn’t resist the challenge of the hunt.  And access to this man’s computer was the target.

            It’s pointless anyway, he thought, if he’s working off-line then nothing short of shoving a network cable in the side is going to get me in.

Bill’s laptop played a sound to announce that it had finished booting; he leaned forward and started typing into the keyboard.  A few moments later Reece’s netbook, a message appeared.  His eyes widened – Bill’s computer had appeared in his network scanner.  He was in luck, Bill was clearly a regular and must have the wireless access key already programmed into his laptop.

            Ok, thought Reece, let’s see what you’ve got.

Reece opened a terminal application and typed into it furiously, risking the occasional glimpse at Bill over the top of his screen.  He hit the ‘enter’ key on his keyboard, sending a command across the wireless network.  Immediately a log-on prompt appeared on Reece’s display for Bill’s system.

            Good start, he thought as if mentally coaching himself.  Now I just need to crack the password.  Got to load up the dictionary file and run it through the current connection session.

Within a few keystrokes, the netbook opened a huge file of predefined keywords and systematically sent them one by one as login credentials to Bill’s machine, the list of rejected combinations scrolled up the screen in a rush.  Reece turned his eyes to Bill once more, hoping that he wouldn’t finish his work before he’d had the chance to break into the man’s system.

 There was a muted alarm from the netbook and Reece’s eyes snapped back to his screen.  A message flashed:

            Access granted; make yourself at home!

Reece smiled; the humour was his own – literally.  After all, he’d written the hacking application himself, adding complex heuristics for greater chance of success.  Just knowing the account holder’s name meant the software could concentrate its efforts in deducing the username for the computer’s account, cutting down processing time dramatically.

Reece typed more commands into the keyboard and within a second a screen full of gibberish appeared.

            One hundred and twenty-eight-bit encryption, he thought.  No problem.

Reece opened the encryption cracking program, pointed it in the direction of Bill’s computer and let it go.  Ordinarily it could take up to six hours to crack this level of encryption but he had rewritten the application to make it run faster.  Much faster.  Within five minutes Bill’s file system appeared on Reece’s screen, completely unlocked and ready.  Before he could stop himself, he let out a vehement “yes!”.  Bill looked up, giving Reece a deeply considering stare before returning to his screen.  Reece watched as the man nervously drained the contents of his coffee cup in one go – he may not have much time, so what to go for?  Bill’s conversation had been intriguing, what on earth was it that he did for a living?  There was only one thing for it – raid his email.

Seconds later, Reece had brought up Bill’s email account on his own screen.  He scanned through the items in the inbox but nothing jumped out as interesting, just the usual corporate guff: overdue form returns for human resources, updates on policy documents, review meeting arrangements.  The list went on.

And then a very interesting folder caught his eye.

            “Ultra Security: Internal Only”

Reece clicked the folder and its contents scrolled down his screen.  His eyes scanned the list of email messages; most had subject titles that meant nothing to him at all or contained words that looked like they belonged to a physics manual.  But then a line stood out from those around it: Prototype Weaponry Systems. Reece’s pulse quickened and his finger moved over the ‘read’ button.  With a click, the email opened.

His eyes widened.

The email contained lots of text, tables of figures and graphs.  He scrolled down the message; there was a set of computer created 3D images of what looked like electronic components, most of which didn’t mean much to Reece, although some were more obvious, like a complex helmet with virtual displays beamed across its visor.  One of the images must have been incorrectly rendered as half of it was blurry.

Reece looked up at the man opposite – Bill was staring back.  Reece held his gaze for a moment too long before looking quickly back down.  There was a snap as Bill closed his laptop.  On Reece’s screen a connection failure message flashed.

            No, not now.  Don’t go now!

But Bill was going.  Maybe being stared at had put him at unease, especially after joking to Frank on the phone about being watched.  He grabbed his laptop bag, dropped the laptop hastily into it and got to his feet.

Reece felt a stab of panic; he’d stumbled across something here, something that had ignited the true hacker within him.  He had to know more about this top-secret and revolutionary system.

Bill hadn’t even reached the door before Reece stood.  Too quickly, as it turned out.  His coffee cup tipped, sending the dregs of his cold drink across the table.  Bill turned, halfway out of the door, a deep frown burrowing its way into his brow.  Reece snatched up his netbook before coffee soaked into it and thrust it into his backpack.  Bill almost fled from the cafe.  Making a vague apology to the waitress as he passed, Reece sprinted after him.

He had no idea what he was doing; he was just acting upon impulse and adrenalin.  All he knew was that he needed more information, he needed to know more about Bill so that he could find out more about his work.  If he let him vanish now, that may be impossible.

Outside the weather was still grim; the rain had backed off a little but was still drizzling.  Reece stared up the high-street and saw Bill; he was virtually running now.  With his backpack secured in place, Reece took off after him, trying to keep in the shadows.

He made up ground quickly; Bill half turned, looking over his shoulder and saw he was being followed.  Reece pulled his hoody up over his head, sending his face into menacing darkness.  At this, Bill positively panicked and ran full pelt up the deserted pathway.  Reece sped after him.

The man ran through the dark and the rain, crossing roads with abandonment.  Reece could see that Bill was tiring, his laptop bucking and swinging over his shoulder.  Bill must have realised that he was never going to win a sprint and suddenly turned a corner up head.  Reece reached the point and entered a narrow alleyway, almost skidding over in his haste.  If it had been dark before, it was almost a complete blackout in here.  He stopped, his heart thrumming hard and sending warning pains through his chest.  All was quiet and he could see no signs of movement.

Then he heard a crash up ahead.  In the dim light of an emergency exit sign, he saw flailing movement.  Reece lurched forward, covering the ground quickly despite the darkness.

            ‘No!  Leave me alone!’

It was Bill and he was sprawled on his back, his arms clutching his laptop bag as if it were a child.  ‘Please,’ he pleaded, pushing himself backward with his feet.

Reece, who had stopped suddenly, stared down at him in surprise, unable to say anything.  His plan had been to try and keep a low profile, to follow the man without him noticing but he’d blow that big time.  He raised his hand to help the man up but Bill flinched away.

            ‘Look, I know what your kind want; just take it!’ he said before thrusting his shaking hand inside his suit-jacket and pulling something out of a pocket.

            ‘Wait…I don’t…’ stammered Reece, but Bill was too frantic to listen.  He threw the small object at Reece, who watched as it flew passed him.  When he turned back around, Bill had scrambled to his feet and was sprinting down the alleyway, his laptop still cradled in his arms as he ran.

Reece watched as the man and his rapid footfalls disappeared, his heart still banging and his breathing heavy.  He turned, reached down and picked up the object that Bill had thrown.

            ‘Oh no,’ he said as he ran a thumb across the wad of crisp banknotes in Bill’s wallet.  ‘What have I done?’ 

(Home)