LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

of the ones on the armoured cars, lashed safely to the floor and walls alongside racks of beam guns and UV grenades.

      The rotors rose to a whining scream, and the seat beneath Jamie shook and rattled as the huge helicopter lumbered into the air. The exhaustion he had been battling all day returned with a vengeance, and he shut his eyes as the strike team headed north.

      He was woken by the sound of Frankenstein’s voice ordering the Operators to carry out their final checks. The men, who looked to the half-asleep Jamie like rows of black robots in their identical uniforms and anonymous helmets, pulled their weapons from their belts, unloaded and reloaded them, and replaced them in their loops and holsters.

      “Absolute silence until we reach the go point,” said Frankenstein, looking round at the men. “No one moves until the UV cannons are in place and all four squads are in position. Is that clear?”

      “Yes, sir,” chorused the soldiers.

      “I want this to run smooth and simple,” Frankenstein continued. “I don’t want any heroics. We go in, we eliminate the targets, we bring the package out. Understood?”

       The package? Is he talking about my mother?

      “Yes, sir.”

      The helicopters landed a mile away from the target, sending cut grass spinning into the air, and startling a herd of grazing cows. The ramps lowered and the Blacklight team deployed, the four armoured cars rolling silently down into the field, their wheels propelled by engines that were surrounded by sound-dampening ceramic plates. The UV spotlights came next, attached to purpose-built housings at the rears of the vehicles. The squads of Operators followed them, their purple visors lowered, their T-Bones held loosely across their chests. The men climbed into the vehicles, and Frankenstein called for a readiness report over the closed-circuit radio system that linked them together. The four squads reported back ready, and Frankenstein ordered the driver of his vehicle to proceed. The armoured car moved smoothly across the field and out on to a narrow country road. Jamie sat next to Frankenstein, his visor raised, his weapons checked and re-checked, his leg bouncing nervously up and down as they neared their destination.

      Light blazed from the windows of the estate’s main house, and the sounds of music and voices floated out on the night air.

      The Blacklight team brought the vehicles to a halt in the trees at the bottom of the drive, where they would be invisible from both the road and the house, and the Operators disembarked. Frankenstein and Morris directed them into position, giving their orders via a series of complex hand signals that Jamie found utterly impenetrable. The first squad, Morris’s squad, took one of the UV spotlights, flanked the house and took up a position at the rear, covering the back door and the outbuildings that stood in a loose semi-circle around it. The second and third squads took a spotlight each and positioned themselves at the sides of the building. Frankenstein waited until he received silent confirmation that each of the teams were in position, then led his own team slowly forward towards the house. He turned to Jamie as his men started to move through the trees.

      “Stay here,” he whispered.

      Then he smiled.

      Jamie stared, unsure how to respond, and then the monster was gone, just another shadow moving through the black columns of trees. Jamie stared after him for a few seconds, then climbed back into the armoured car.

      Suddenly the estate was filled with purple as the UV spotlights burst into life, covering the doors and windows. Jamie heard the bang from a hundred yards away as one of the Operators kicked the front door of the house in, then a millisecond later saw it happen on one of the monitors on the vehicle’s control console. A moment later he heard the first shouts and screams as he watched the Blacklight squads pour into the house.

       I want to see this for myself.

      Jamie leapt down from the vehicle and streaked through the trees towards the house. The noise rose as he ran across the wide lawn in front of the building, and then he was through the front door, directly disobeying the only order Frankenstein had given him. The noise was coming from behind a huge carved wooden door at the rear of the lobby, and he hauled it open, his heart pounding, his mind racing with what he was going to say to his mother when he was reunited with her.

      It was a large dining hall, set for a dinner that was never going to be served. A huge open fire roared in a fireplace at the back of the room, sending orange light reflecting off an ornate chandelier that hung above the long table. Standing in front of the fire were maybe twenty men and women in tuxedos and cocktail dresses. The Blacklight strike team surrounded them, their T-Bones set against their shoulders and pointing at the protesting crowd.

      Jamie’s heart sank.

      His mother wasn’t there.

      Neither was Alexandru.

      As he stared into the room, Frankenstein pulled the beam gun from his belt and raked purple UV light across the group. Several of the women shrieked, and most of the men bellowed angrily, but there were no screams of pain, and no smoke rose from the exposed skin. Frankenstein turned away from them, his face as dark as thunder, and Jamie saw him speak into his radio.

      “I demand to know the meaning of this outrage!” shouted one of the men by the fire, a large, portly man in a tuxedo that was straining at the seams. His round face was bright red with indignation, a glistening black moustache quivering on his upper lip. “This is private property! I demand an explanation, this instant!”

      A Blacklight Operator stepped forward and jabbed the tip of his T-Bone into the man’s chest, hard. Several of the women cried out; the man backed away in a hurry, shouting as he did so, until a striking woman in a figure-hugging black dress placed a hand on his shoulder, and he was quiet.

      Frankenstein strode back through the Operators and addressed the small crowd.

      “Where is Alexandru Rusmanov?” he growled.

      “Never heard of him,” snapped a woman at the front of the group.

      Frankenstein strode to a table set against one off the long walls of the hall. On it were glasses, plates and a silver tray containing glass vials of a dark red powder. He picked one of the vials up, and held it out towards the woman.

      “I suppose you don’t know what this either?” he snarled. “Or do you always keep a supply of Bliss on hand for whenever you throw a party?”

      “I’ve never seen that before in my life,” the woman replied, a maddening smile on her face. “I don’t know what it is, or why it’s here, and I challenge you to prove otherwise. Now, why don’t you get the hell out of my house?”

      Frankenstein threw the vial to the floor. It smashed, and Bliss flew into the air in a small red cloud. He saw a number of the guests eye the spilt powder with naked desire, and felt himself teeter on the edge of control of his temper. He took a half step towards her, but the woman didn’t back down an inch. She stared up at the monster, her eyes narrow, her face calm. She was standing steadily, her hands on her narrow hips, wearing a dark red cocktail dress and a white shawl around her shoulders..

      “Tell me where Alexandru is, and we’ll go,” replied Frankenstein, his voice low and dangerous.

      They faced each other for a long moment, until a voice called from the back of the group.

      “You’ll never find him, you filthy monster!”

      The crowd parted, revealing the woman who had quieted the blustering man. She was incredibly beautiful, her limbs long and slender, her narrow face framed by jet-black hair that fell across her shoulders. She smiled at Frankenstein as he walked slowly towards her.

      He leant in until his enormous face was only millimetres from hers. “What did you say?” he asked. His voice sounded like tectonic plates shifting.

      “I said you’ll never find him, you filthy monster,” she replied, calmly. “He floats above the earth like a God, while you crawl on your stomach like a beetle. You could never hope to understand him, or find

Скачать книгу