All Fun and Games Until Somebody Loses an Eye Read online

  Bett had offered a way out. Taking it was only marginally less scary than what she was already staring down the barrel of, involving, as it did, disappearing from her old life with just the clothes on her back (and doing so within an hour of receiving the email), but as far as decisions went, it was a no-brainer. Not quite the career trajectory she’d once envisaged, but things had worked out a lot more colourfully than the future had looked from her old bedroom. She had a great apartment in a beautiful village in the south of France. She had a good job with an excellent salary, plus health and dental. The only niggling flaw was there was no fixed term of contract and nothing in the small print regarding how you went about leaving. Oh, and it occasionally involved killing people.

  To Lex’s relief, Som at last stood up straight, the flight case gently righting itself as he relieved it of his weight. He jumped up and down on the spot a couple of times and wrapped his arms around himself.

  ‘I hope this place we’re hitting has central heating,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t have to worry if it was a hollowed-out volcano. The top-of-the-range ones have a pool of boiling lava for the evil genius to dispose of dissenters and broil burgers at masterplan-launching parties.’

  ‘This isn’t cold,’ Lex told him. ‘Try winter in Ontario some time. You should have more layers on too.’

  ‘I didn’t expect to be standing out here more than a couple of minutes. Plus, we’ll have to change when we get there. Bett would have mentioned clothing at the briefing if it was an issue, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lex replied. ‘Maybe he did. I wasn’t listening. I thought it was your turn to pay attention.’

  ‘No, I traded with Armand. I have to pay attention next time. Armand?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I fell asleep,’ Armand said with a shrug. ‘I’m sure he didn’t say anything important.’

  ‘Where is Bett anyway?’ Lex asked.

  ‘Probably taking a bath,’ Armand told her. ‘You leave that man unoccupied for any length of time and psshh! He’s in the tub.’

  ‘Hey, he’s the boss,’ she reasoned. ‘Guy owns a mansion with half-a-dozen bathrooms. Maybe he figures he’s gotta get his use out of all of them or he’s wasted his money.’

  ‘Whatever makes him happy,’ Som said, stamping his feet on the flagstones.

  ‘He’s Bett,’ Lex reminded him. ‘Nothing makes him happy.’

  ‘Okay, whatever makes him marginally less belligerent.’

  ‘He’s got this forecourt bugged, you both know that?’ Armand warned, casting his eyes melodramatically towards a nearby fir.

  ‘Seriously, is he around?’ Lex asked again. ‘Because it doesn’t look like anybody’s home. Or are we meeting him there?’

  ‘That’s a negative,’ Som said. ‘Nuno’s meeting us there. I’m pretty sure I heard Rebekah say we were gonna pick up Bett in Aix.’

  ‘In Aix?’ Lex asked, a little dismayed. ‘This place is in the Alps. If we’re picking up Bett en route, we’ll be lucky to get there by lunchtime tomorrow. Are we planning to hit it in daylight, is that the deal? What would be the point of that? Who the hell hits a place like Marledoq in the middle of the afternoon?’

  ‘Maybe that is the point,’ Armand suggested, smiling. ‘Why pay anyone to guard it during office hours if the thieves and marauders only work the late shift?’

  ‘You’ve been around Bett too long. You’re starting to sound like him with that disingenuous bullshit.’

  Som rasped his lips and shuddered.

  ‘Day or night, we’re not going to get there at all if the wheels don’t show up. Where is she?’

  ‘Why don’t you wait inside if you’re cold?’ Lex suggested, prompting him to glance back bitterly at the mansion’s sturdily locked storm doors.

  ‘Yeah, very funny. But I’m gonna go sit in my car if she doesn’t show soon. What’s the time?’

  ‘Seven minutes past five,’ Lex told him.

  ‘She’s cutting it fine,’ Som said. ‘You know what Bett’s like about punctuality. “Late is what we call the dead”,’ he quoted.

  ‘She’s not late yet,’ Lex observed. ‘She was only going to Nice, to pick up our ride, she said.’

  ‘She said that much?’ muttered Som. ‘Favouritism.’

  ‘Our ride?’ asked Armand. ‘What’s wrong with the old charabanc?’

  ‘Maybe it wouldn’t stand up to her hot driving skillz,’ Som suggested, emphasising the z for Lex’s benefit.

  ‘I’m not so convinced about that,’ Armand said. ‘Have you seen her in that new Beetle?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lex agreed. ‘I saw her driving out of here yesterday and it was rocking like it was being boffed by an invisible Herbie.’

  ‘A bit rusty with the manual transmission,’ Armand mused. ‘Not unusual for a visitor recently arrived from the United States,’ he added archly, alluding to the typically shady provenance of Bett’s latest appointment.

  ‘Yeah, well, whatever her story, Bett wouldn’t be calling her “Transport Manager” for nothing,’ Som insisted. ‘Hey, what time’s it now?’ he then asked.

  ‘It’s …’ Lex started, but stopped herself as it occurred to her that Som could not possibly have come out on an op minus a timepiece. ‘Why don’t you look at your own watch?’

  ‘I don’t want to roll up my sleeve. Too cold.’

  ‘You’re a pussy, Som,’ she told him. ‘A shivering, pitiful Thai pussy.’

  ‘Thai pussy beaucoup good,’ he responded in a hammy accent. ‘Love you long time.’

  ‘It’s nine minutes past,’ she told him, mainly to stop the routine going any further.

  ‘Shit. Doesn’t augur well for Rebekah’s first op,’ he stated.

  ‘She’s not late yet,’ Lex reiterated. ‘Not for fifty seconds, leastways.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see any headlights.’

  ‘Maybe her killer skillz let her drive in the dark,’ Lex told him, emphasising the z herself this time.

  ‘Shhh,’ said Armand. ‘Listen. Do you hear that?’

  ‘What?’ asked Som.

  Nobody said anything for a few moments, allowing them to hear a low bassy sound, distant but getting incrementally louder by the second.

  ‘You gotta be kidding me,’ Lex declared. She stepped further out into the forecourt and looked around, but saw only black night beyond the avenue of trees. Still the noise grew nearer.

  ‘No way,’ said Som.

  ‘Thirty seconds,’ Armand remarked, standing away from the flight cases and looking towards the house, from which direction the sound was approaching.

  Less than ten seconds later, the black shape of a helicopter swooped upwards into sight above the building and circled the property once by way of signalling intention to land on the gravel. The three of them stepped back towards the house, Lex taking a moment to rest Som’s flight case down flat before making her retreat.

  She looked at her watch again. The chopper touched down at nine minutes and fifty-four seconds past five.

  ‘She’s six seconds early,’ Lex reported to Som above the storm of the rotorblades. ‘Oh ye of little faith.’

  ‘Transport Manager,’ Som called back. ‘Very funny. I guess she meant Nice as in Nice Côte d’Azure airport, for a charter. Wonder who she hired to fly the thing. Somebody who can keep his mouth shut, I hope.’

  The front cabin door opened and out stepped Rebekah in a black one-piece jumpsuit, her blonde hair fluttering untidily in the wind where it spilled from beneath her helmet. She slid open the door to the passenger cabin and strode towards the flight cases. Given their cue, Lex, Som and Armand came forward again and joined her in loading their equipment. Directly underneath the blades, the noise was too intense to allow any verbal communication, so an exchange of gestures conveyed that everything was in place and they were ready to board. Som eagerly climbed in first, followed by Lex, deferred to by the bowing Armand. Rebekah then slammed the cabin door closed and returned to her seat at the controls. It was far quieter inside, b
ut the noise level increased again as the blades accelerated in preparation for take-off. A voice cut across the growing whine, carried clearly over embedded speakers along both sides of the cabin.

  ‘Good evening everybody and welcome aboard this Eurocopter Dauphin AS365N2 travelling to Marledoq via Aix en Provence. We will be leaving very shortly, so please fasten your seat belts and place all personal items, including handguns, tasers and plastic explosives, securely in the hatches provided. We ask also at this time that you stow all mobile phones and personal tracking devices, and that passengers with laptops refrain from hacking any mainframe computer systems as this can interfere with our navigational instruments. We would like to take this opportunity to say thank you for flying Air Bett, and that we appreciate you have no choice.’

  The stop in Aix was brief, little more than a touchdown. The chopper landed in a car park on the perimeter of a light industrial estate outside the city. A solitary figure stood motionless on the black-top beneath the yellow sodium of street lights, flanked either side by aluminium cases. Frost had enveloped all but one of the four cars lined up closest to the abutting low-rise building, windscreens and bodywork glinting as the chopper’s lights passed over them.

  Bett began walking forward as soon as the wheels met the earth, leaving the cases where they stood. Without prompt, Armand opened the door and climbed out, moving with brisk but unhurried steps to retrieve Bett’s luggage. Bett climbed aboard, ignoring Som’s proffered hand-up, and took a rear-facing seat directly behind the slim partition separating the passenger cabin from the cockpit. He glanced emotionlessly at his watch: they were dead on time. As ever, this didn’t appear to be any source of particular satisfaction, though Lex had nothing to compare it to. Thus far in her experience, Bett’s vaunted displeasure at ever being behind schedule remained at quantum level.

  Armand handed up Bett’s cases to the waiting Som, who stowed them, as Armand climbed back aboard and closed the cabin door. Then Bett gave the most cursory hand signal through the perspex window panel to the attentively waiting Rebekah, and they were off again.

  They were on the ground less than ninety seconds.

  Nobody spoke, in conspicuous contrast to the relentless back-and-forth bullshit between Som and Armand on the flight to Aix. It was an observed silence, and slightly tense for it. It was always like this when Bett took his place, like a schoolroom hushed by the intimidating presence of a strict and respected teacher. Nobody would speak until he did first. Once Bett set the tone, other conversation could and would resume, if appropriate. Until he did speak, however, it was impossible to know what that tone would be. He sat silently as they ascended, impenetrable seriousness in his eyes as he stared out into the night.

  There had been no greetings, nor would there be any checks or queries as to their preparations. Bett had no need to ask, for instance, whether you had remembered to bring a particular item, or to reiterate any information. Armand couldn’t have been less serious when he said he’d fallen asleep during the briefing.

  Bett stirred from his inscrutable absorption once they had reattained cruising altitude. He glanced around the cabin at their faces, all three meeting his eye expectantly.

  ‘Alexis, boot up, please,’ he ordered, unsnapping his seat belt. He projected his delivery just enough to carry over the ambient noise, which was louder than on a passenger aircraft. Bett didn’t like to raise his voice; didn’t like ever to consider it necessary. It was said that if you wanted people to listen, you should speak softly. Bett simply assumed people were listening, and didn’t expect to have to shout to get their attention.

  Lex recalled Rebekah’s words over the intercom, echoing the standard in-flight passenger protocols about laptops. On commercial airline flights, that only applied during take-off and landing. She didn’t know about helicopters, or therefore whether Rebekah’s warning was serious despite its humour, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to refer it to Bett. Any sentence that began ‘But sir,’ was a bad start with the boss. He hated ‘whining’ as he called it, presumably because it infringed upon his exclusive rights to all grumpiness and complaining within the company.

  She unbuckled her restraint and reached beneath the seat for her kit. Meantime, Bett knelt down and slid out one of his cases from the cargo rack, flipping it slightly ajar. She didn’t see precisely what he had removed – a flat plastic sleeve, possibly a CD – but did catch a glimpse of a row of identical gun butts nestling cosily in protective plastic foam. A glance at her co-passengers confirmed they were also sneaking a peak. Bett’s mission briefings were detailed, but seldom comprehensive. There were almost always surprises.

  The first one, this trip, was for her.

  ‘Get into the network at Marledoq,’ he said.

  ‘Sure thing.’

  Mid-air hacks were not part of the plan; in fact, she hadn’t been instructed to do anything more than a covert recce of the Marledoq system prior to the mission, so there was definitely no need to be doing this at fifteen thousand feet. She guessed it must have been a CD-ROM he’d taken from the case, and the contents of it were possibly something that had only latterly come into his possession. Far more likely, however, was that he simply wanted to see her dance. He liked to keep everybody on the edge of their game, always ready to improvise and adapt at zero notice. There was no record in the company of anyone ever complaining about being bored.

  ‘Rough skies ahead,’ Lex announced to no one in particular as she tapped slowly at the keyboard and patiently scanned the screen.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Bett asked. ‘You scanning Met office websites or are you just … channelling?’ He paused before the last word to give it emphasis, then pronounced it with a clipped crispness. Bett’s scorn was seldom far from breaking the surface, but nor was it ever less than elegant.

  ‘Latency,’ she explained. ‘Connection’s a bit sluggish. Electrical storms tend to do that to these satellite modems.’

  ‘Oh, neato,’ ventured Som, gloomily. ‘I always wanted to be in a helicopter during a lightning storm.’

  ‘Are you in yet?’ Bett enquired.

  ‘General network access,’ she replied, ‘but if you want me to start tampering with surveillance and security systems, it’s gonna take—’

  ‘No, no,’ he interrupted. ‘I just want you to shut down one of the PCs in the Security HQ. Can you do that?’

  ‘Shutting down a PC isn’t going to …’ Lex stopped herself. ‘Yes, sir,’ she corrected.

  ‘Good. I want you to script something that monitors when it gets rebooted. Run a clock on it from the moment you close it down. I want a response time.’

  ‘You got it.’

  Lex did as instructed, leaving the response-time clock running in a minimised panel towards the left edge of her screen. It would open fully and play an alarm chime when someone at the Marledoq end turned the machine back on. She looked up expectantly for Bett’s next instruction, but that appeared to be all for now. He was staring out of the window again, though there was nothing to look at but a few wispy snowflakes dancing across the beams of the helicopter’s lights.

  The chime sounded and the clock stopped after four minutes and eighteen seconds.

  ‘Log that,’ Bett said. ‘And shut the same PC down again at exactly twenty hundred hours.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The snow grew gradually heavier as the flight continued. There was no lightning, but the wind was picking up and the chopper lurched and dipped with increasing frequency. Lex felt a little nauseous, but wasn’t sure whether it was as much to do with the motion as worry. This was only her second time in a helicopter. The first had been eight years ago, a tourist jaunt over Niagara Falls on a sunny July morning, in maximum visibility and nary a breath of wind. Right now it was December, pitch black, there was a snowstorm brewing and they were flying towards the Alps.

  ‘Looks like Lex was right about the weather,’ Armand said, looking a little concerned.

  ‘If we don’t do th
is tonight, it’ll be at least two weeks before we can reschedule,’ Bett stated.

  ‘Only if you’re stuck on exposing—’

  ‘I’m stuck on all aspects of my plan, yes,’ Bett assured him, with the calm of a man who seldom had to stress his point. ‘But if the weather continues to deteriorate, it won’t be my intentions that prevail. That will be Rebekah’s prerogative. In fact, I’ll just have a word.’

  Bett got up and opened the door to the cockpit, reaching with his other hand into the pocket where he’d secreted whatever he removed from his case. Through the window panel, Lex saw him talk to Rebekah, then hand her what indeed turned out to be a silver disc. He returned to the passenger cabin and took his seat once again, his visage familiarly betraying nothing.

  He waited for the next sudden, stomach-knotting surge before responding to Lex’s eager gaze.

  ‘Rebekah seems unconcerned,’ he said flatly. ‘The snow is getting pretty heavy, but she’s not navigating by sight anyway.’

  ‘What about the turbulence?’ Lex asked.

  ‘Unconcerned,’ he repeated. ‘I believe her exact words were: “This isn’t turbulence.” She then added something I didn’t precisely catch, but the gist of it was that you’d know what turbulence was once we’re above the mountains. Which should be any time now, I estimate,’ he concluded, fastening his seat belt with precise delicacy.

  Everyone else followed suit, knowing a cue from this bastard when they saw one.

  Mere moments passed before the chopper plummeted like a broken elevator, Lez feeling as though her guts had remained at the previous altitude. The descent stopped just as suddenly, the plunge bottoming out, rising and banking into a swoop that seemed to increase their velocity by about fifty per cent.

  Those in the passenger cabin weren’t the only ones to get a cue. Bett reached his hand behind his head and rapped on the window before gracefully flicking his wrist in a gesture that looked like the proverbial royal wave until Lex realised his fingers were gripping an imaginary baton.

  Music. Motherfucker. And a thousand bucks said Ride of the Valkyries.