The Assassin Drone, Part 5
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After failing to find any clue to Jeremy Owusu's movements, Lucas went home late that night. He had an unopened bottle of champagne in the fridge, left over from that day when he'd asked Lina to marry him. Now he popped the cork and poured himself a glass to celebrate his first day back at Thames House, his own private victory. He'd made it! He'd been in prison, but he'd come back, and now he was working again, just as though he'd never been gone. The thought was exhilarating, especially when he remembered all the times in his cell when he'd imagined he would die there, never seeing anybody or anything else ever again.
"To me!" he said aloud, lifting his glass. "I've got my life back now!"
But when he remembered Lina, his exhilaration disappeared. Lina. She was supposed to be here with him, celebrating with him, but she wasn't. Suddenly, the champagne tasted sickeningly sweet, the flat seemed not only empty, but oppressive, and he no longer felt triumphant, just exhausted and alone. Lucas dashed the contents of his glass into the sink, slung the bottle back into the fridge, and stumbled off to bed.
The next morning, at their first briefing session, Connie announced, "The police found Jeremy Owusu's body in the night. A rough estimate of the time of death puts it after the bus explosion."
"Where did they find it?" Adam asked.
"Under some bushes in Battersea Park," she reported. "He'd been tied to one of them and gagged, then shot in the genitals and left to bleed to death."
All of the younger, more inexperienced agents winced, and Tim said, "That rules out suicide, then."
Harry shot the young agent a hard look, and Lucas mused aloud, "Geographically speaking, that's not very far from the bus explosion, but it is from Gunnersbury Park. As he left his car in Acton, and I haven't been able to spot him on the public transport CCTV footage, somebody must have picked him up and driven him there."
"To work the assassination drone?" Adam asked, and Lucas could only shrug.
"So, we have a possible traitor, but no idea who he was working for," Harry said. "Nobody's come forward to claim the explosion as a terrorist attack."
"They're usually so keen to boast about their handiwork," Ben murmured.
"Olivia Stephens is the next best thing we have to a lead," Lucas said. "I think we should talk to her, but if her house is bugged, somebody may also be watching her."
"Speaking of Olivia," Malcolm spoke up. "The evening surveillance team recorded that she drove away last night. They followed her to Central Middlesex Hospital, where unfortunately, they lost her. She was gone for about thirty five minutes, then came back, and was carrying this the entire time."
He put a picture on the screen of Olivia exiting her house with a large carrier bag that obviously held something bulky. The same bulk remained visible on the pictures from the CCTV footage of the hospital entrances, and on the picture of Olivia getting it out of the car again.
"Maybe her son's in hospital and she was visiting him with some kind of toy?" Tim suggested, but Malcolm shook his head. "We checked. He's not there."
"Could that be another assassination drone?" Harry asked.
"There've been no new reports of any explosions or even mysterious deaths that could be traced back to laser beams," Connie said.
"Perhaps she went there to meet somebody and they didn't show, so she had to take it back again, whatever it was," Ben mused.
"I agree we need to talk," Harry agreed. "Lucas, stage a meeting with her, as soon as possible."
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At work the next day, Olivia had to requisition the specialists for the kind of camera, or rather, the camera parts, that they had used on the Death Star. It wasn't an unusual request, but she still felt nervous about it, even after the specialists delivered the equipment. She'd been through the older prototypes, but the camera designs available there weren't suitable for what she had in mind. Still, she'd taken one of the old ones anyway, to use in the new prototype. Hopefully, it would mean that the new camera wouldn't be discovered missing for a while.
She couldn't stop thinking about the night before, the fact that she'd been followed, combined with what the men had told her about Jeremy's death. They had certainly killed him, but was it only because the drone had been defective? Or were they trying to cover their tracks? Would they kill her as well, even if she made them the perfect drone? And Owen? She didn't want to die, but she wouldn't mind it so awfully much as long as they killed Owen at the same time. It was the thought of him being left alive without her that made her panic.
Or would the men let her go and simply wait for the government to pick her up on a charge of treason? The people from the government had certainly been able to track the Death Star quickly enough; it wouldn't take long for them to find her. Maybe they already had. Just because she hadn't seen them after she'd reached the hospital last night didn't mean they hadn't seen her. She was becoming paranoid just thinking about it, but then she remembered Owen and knew she had to continue, no matter what.
Just before her usual quitting time, Olivia wrapped the camera parts in a thin sheet of foam, then placed them in the bin bag and raced to the loo to hang it out of the window. She forgot the stepladder in her rush to get it over with, and had to go back. Of course George came out of his office at exactly the moment when Olivia was halfway between the workshop and the loo.
"Are you climbing the career ladder?" George teased. "It looks a bit short to me."
"There's a lightbulb in the ladies' loo that needs changing and I really can't wait for the janitor," Olivia said, trying to sound blithe at the same time as she was breaking out in a cold sweat. "When it's that time of the month, you just want to get things done as soon as possible and get it over with, if you know what I mean."
"Right …" George tried to hide a horrified expression and scurried down the hall, eager now to avoid any further conversation. Olivia continued on her way, glad that it had been George. Jeremy wouldn't have been scared off so easily – he might even have offered to help with the lightbulb – but then, if Jeremy had been there, she wouldn't be dragging the stepladder around in the first place. She just hoped that her explanation was good enough and that George wasn't starting to suspect anything now that he'd twice caught her doing funny things.
There was a bit more wind that day than the day before, and the bag with the camera parts rustled occasionally, but otherwise hung nicely. Olivia knew that a good gust could carry it off, but there was nothing she could do about that except hope and pray. Replacing the stepladder, she got her handbag and left the building.
She had just pulled up outside Owen's school when she remembered he wasn't there, and slapped her hand to her forehead in annoyance. What a scatterbrain she was becoming! As she drove off, however, she found herself wondering if she'd ever drive that stretch again, and had to blink away tears.
At home, she'd barely got out of the car when a postal worker came huffing up the street under the weight of a bulky, heavy package. "Hi! Good to find someone at home. I've got a package for a Johnny Baxter, can you take it for him?"
"Yeah, sure," Olivia said, taking the box and nearly dropping it.
"Somebody's been ordering weight lifting equipment, feels like," the woman said with a grin. "Which number is your house? I'll put a note on Johnny Baxter's door, and he can come pick it up."
Olivia heaved the box indoors and dumped it in the front hall, then glanced down at the address on it. She didn't remember any Baxters living two doors down on the other side of the street; the old married couple in that house was named McCallum. They always shouted at Owen for trampling through the flowers in their front garden to pet their cat. It didn't help that Owen liked the cat and always thought that seeing the tabby sunning itself on their windowbox was a open invitation for him to run over and stroke it until it purred. Well, the McCallums wouldn't be shouting at him this week, Olivia thought.
But maybe those men would be.
Olivia tried not to think of how Owen was coping, or even how the men were coping with Owen, and busied herself instead with making dinner. When the doorbell rang, she was right in the middle of chicken korma, and had to turn the stove off and wipe her hands before she could open the door.
A tall blond man stood there, leaning on crutches, his ankle in a splint. When he saw her, he smiled broadly. "Hi, I'm Johnny Baxter, I got a note that you took a package for me?"
"Yeah, it's here," Olivia said, opening the door a bit wider so he could see it.
"Oh, great. Um, you'd be doing me a big favour if you could carry it home for me." Apologetically, he indicated his leg. "I've broken a bone in my ankle, just got back from the hospital."
"No problem," Olivia told him, although it was. She didn't want to leave the house in case the men called early, or something else happened. Still, the package was heavy and the man did have crutches. After she'd hefted the box into her arms, Johnny led the way down the path.
"I tripped on the stairs," he said. "Can you imagine?"
"Better than breaking your neck," Olivia said, and he laughed. "Yeah. Still, I got off lightly. I knew a girl once who fell down a spiral staircase and broke her leg in three places."
He looked back at her with a grin, but Olivia couldn't reciprocate his cheerfulness. He didn't seem to notice, however, as he continued along the pavement. Olivia was surprised at how fast he was, even with his crutches, and she struggled to keep up.
"So, here we are." Johnny had left the door ajar, and now he used one crutch to push it open. "Would you mind terribly taking it into the living room? I'll offer you a drink for your trouble."
"Thanks, but I can't stay." Olivia followed him in, nearly tripping over the cat as it ran in between her legs. "Whoops. Where are the McCallums?"
"They won free tickets to dinner and a play to-night," Johnny said.
"Nice," Olivia said, making her way through the living room to the table. Letting the box down, she said, "Like I said, thanks for the offer …"
She let her voice trail off as she realized that there was somebody else in the room as well, someone whose dark hair and big nose she recognized instantly, even if she couldn’t remember his name. It was the man from the government, the man who’d come to Tarla to speak to her about the Death Star! Panicking, Olivia glanced back to the door, but Johnny had not only shut it, he was also standing directly in front of it, with his crutches set aside and his weight balanced equally on both legs.
"Please sit down, Olivia," the dark-haired man said.
Part 6
After failing to find any clue to Jeremy Owusu's movements, Lucas went home late that night. He had an unopened bottle of champagne in the fridge, left over from that day when he'd asked Lina to marry him. Now he popped the cork and poured himself a glass to celebrate his first day back at Thames House, his own private victory. He'd made it! He'd been in prison, but he'd come back, and now he was working again, just as though he'd never been gone. The thought was exhilarating, especially when he remembered all the times in his cell when he'd imagined he would die there, never seeing anybody or anything else ever again.
"To me!" he said aloud, lifting his glass. "I've got my life back now!"
But when he remembered Lina, his exhilaration disappeared. Lina. She was supposed to be here with him, celebrating with him, but she wasn't. Suddenly, the champagne tasted sickeningly sweet, the flat seemed not only empty, but oppressive, and he no longer felt triumphant, just exhausted and alone. Lucas dashed the contents of his glass into the sink, slung the bottle back into the fridge, and stumbled off to bed.
The next morning, at their first briefing session, Connie announced, "The police found Jeremy Owusu's body in the night. A rough estimate of the time of death puts it after the bus explosion."
"Where did they find it?" Adam asked.
"Under some bushes in Battersea Park," she reported. "He'd been tied to one of them and gagged, then shot in the genitals and left to bleed to death."
All of the younger, more inexperienced agents winced, and Tim said, "That rules out suicide, then."
Harry shot the young agent a hard look, and Lucas mused aloud, "Geographically speaking, that's not very far from the bus explosion, but it is from Gunnersbury Park. As he left his car in Acton, and I haven't been able to spot him on the public transport CCTV footage, somebody must have picked him up and driven him there."
"To work the assassination drone?" Adam asked, and Lucas could only shrug.
"So, we have a possible traitor, but no idea who he was working for," Harry said. "Nobody's come forward to claim the explosion as a terrorist attack."
"They're usually so keen to boast about their handiwork," Ben murmured.
"Olivia Stephens is the next best thing we have to a lead," Lucas said. "I think we should talk to her, but if her house is bugged, somebody may also be watching her."
"Speaking of Olivia," Malcolm spoke up. "The evening surveillance team recorded that she drove away last night. They followed her to Central Middlesex Hospital, where unfortunately, they lost her. She was gone for about thirty five minutes, then came back, and was carrying this the entire time."
He put a picture on the screen of Olivia exiting her house with a large carrier bag that obviously held something bulky. The same bulk remained visible on the pictures from the CCTV footage of the hospital entrances, and on the picture of Olivia getting it out of the car again.
"Maybe her son's in hospital and she was visiting him with some kind of toy?" Tim suggested, but Malcolm shook his head. "We checked. He's not there."
"Could that be another assassination drone?" Harry asked.
"There've been no new reports of any explosions or even mysterious deaths that could be traced back to laser beams," Connie said.
"Perhaps she went there to meet somebody and they didn't show, so she had to take it back again, whatever it was," Ben mused.
"I agree we need to talk," Harry agreed. "Lucas, stage a meeting with her, as soon as possible."
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At work the next day, Olivia had to requisition the specialists for the kind of camera, or rather, the camera parts, that they had used on the Death Star. It wasn't an unusual request, but she still felt nervous about it, even after the specialists delivered the equipment. She'd been through the older prototypes, but the camera designs available there weren't suitable for what she had in mind. Still, she'd taken one of the old ones anyway, to use in the new prototype. Hopefully, it would mean that the new camera wouldn't be discovered missing for a while.
She couldn't stop thinking about the night before, the fact that she'd been followed, combined with what the men had told her about Jeremy's death. They had certainly killed him, but was it only because the drone had been defective? Or were they trying to cover their tracks? Would they kill her as well, even if she made them the perfect drone? And Owen? She didn't want to die, but she wouldn't mind it so awfully much as long as they killed Owen at the same time. It was the thought of him being left alive without her that made her panic.
Or would the men let her go and simply wait for the government to pick her up on a charge of treason? The people from the government had certainly been able to track the Death Star quickly enough; it wouldn't take long for them to find her. Maybe they already had. Just because she hadn't seen them after she'd reached the hospital last night didn't mean they hadn't seen her. She was becoming paranoid just thinking about it, but then she remembered Owen and knew she had to continue, no matter what.
Just before her usual quitting time, Olivia wrapped the camera parts in a thin sheet of foam, then placed them in the bin bag and raced to the loo to hang it out of the window. She forgot the stepladder in her rush to get it over with, and had to go back. Of course George came out of his office at exactly the moment when Olivia was halfway between the workshop and the loo.
"Are you climbing the career ladder?" George teased. "It looks a bit short to me."
"There's a lightbulb in the ladies' loo that needs changing and I really can't wait for the janitor," Olivia said, trying to sound blithe at the same time as she was breaking out in a cold sweat. "When it's that time of the month, you just want to get things done as soon as possible and get it over with, if you know what I mean."
"Right …" George tried to hide a horrified expression and scurried down the hall, eager now to avoid any further conversation. Olivia continued on her way, glad that it had been George. Jeremy wouldn't have been scared off so easily – he might even have offered to help with the lightbulb – but then, if Jeremy had been there, she wouldn't be dragging the stepladder around in the first place. She just hoped that her explanation was good enough and that George wasn't starting to suspect anything now that he'd twice caught her doing funny things.
There was a bit more wind that day than the day before, and the bag with the camera parts rustled occasionally, but otherwise hung nicely. Olivia knew that a good gust could carry it off, but there was nothing she could do about that except hope and pray. Replacing the stepladder, she got her handbag and left the building.
She had just pulled up outside Owen's school when she remembered he wasn't there, and slapped her hand to her forehead in annoyance. What a scatterbrain she was becoming! As she drove off, however, she found herself wondering if she'd ever drive that stretch again, and had to blink away tears.
At home, she'd barely got out of the car when a postal worker came huffing up the street under the weight of a bulky, heavy package. "Hi! Good to find someone at home. I've got a package for a Johnny Baxter, can you take it for him?"
"Yeah, sure," Olivia said, taking the box and nearly dropping it.
"Somebody's been ordering weight lifting equipment, feels like," the woman said with a grin. "Which number is your house? I'll put a note on Johnny Baxter's door, and he can come pick it up."
Olivia heaved the box indoors and dumped it in the front hall, then glanced down at the address on it. She didn't remember any Baxters living two doors down on the other side of the street; the old married couple in that house was named McCallum. They always shouted at Owen for trampling through the flowers in their front garden to pet their cat. It didn't help that Owen liked the cat and always thought that seeing the tabby sunning itself on their windowbox was a open invitation for him to run over and stroke it until it purred. Well, the McCallums wouldn't be shouting at him this week, Olivia thought.
But maybe those men would be.
Olivia tried not to think of how Owen was coping, or even how the men were coping with Owen, and busied herself instead with making dinner. When the doorbell rang, she was right in the middle of chicken korma, and had to turn the stove off and wipe her hands before she could open the door.
A tall blond man stood there, leaning on crutches, his ankle in a splint. When he saw her, he smiled broadly. "Hi, I'm Johnny Baxter, I got a note that you took a package for me?"
"Yeah, it's here," Olivia said, opening the door a bit wider so he could see it.
"Oh, great. Um, you'd be doing me a big favour if you could carry it home for me." Apologetically, he indicated his leg. "I've broken a bone in my ankle, just got back from the hospital."
"No problem," Olivia told him, although it was. She didn't want to leave the house in case the men called early, or something else happened. Still, the package was heavy and the man did have crutches. After she'd hefted the box into her arms, Johnny led the way down the path.
"I tripped on the stairs," he said. "Can you imagine?"
"Better than breaking your neck," Olivia said, and he laughed. "Yeah. Still, I got off lightly. I knew a girl once who fell down a spiral staircase and broke her leg in three places."
He looked back at her with a grin, but Olivia couldn't reciprocate his cheerfulness. He didn't seem to notice, however, as he continued along the pavement. Olivia was surprised at how fast he was, even with his crutches, and she struggled to keep up.
"So, here we are." Johnny had left the door ajar, and now he used one crutch to push it open. "Would you mind terribly taking it into the living room? I'll offer you a drink for your trouble."
"Thanks, but I can't stay." Olivia followed him in, nearly tripping over the cat as it ran in between her legs. "Whoops. Where are the McCallums?"
"They won free tickets to dinner and a play to-night," Johnny said.
"Nice," Olivia said, making her way through the living room to the table. Letting the box down, she said, "Like I said, thanks for the offer …"
She let her voice trail off as she realized that there was somebody else in the room as well, someone whose dark hair and big nose she recognized instantly, even if she couldn’t remember his name. It was the man from the government, the man who’d come to Tarla to speak to her about the Death Star! Panicking, Olivia glanced back to the door, but Johnny had not only shut it, he was also standing directly in front of it, with his crutches set aside and his weight balanced equally on both legs.
"Please sit down, Olivia," the dark-haired man said.
Part 6