Helix Nexus by Chris Lofts (read e books online free .TXT) 📕

rovers, the side street was empty. He unzipped his jacket, pulled one of his P226s. With the gun hanging loosely at his side he strode up to the parked vehicle. Observing his progress, Sofi timed the opening of the door to perfection. Inside, the minder was man-spreading, his new friend on her knees between his legs, her face in his lap. The woman shrieked as Helix ducked into the cabin, taking the seat opposite. The door slid shut.

Peering down the barrel of the gun, the minder raised his hands. ‘Who the fu—’

‘Quiet,’ Helix snapped. ‘Zip yourself up.’ He nudged the terrified woman with his foot. ‘You. Get on the seat next to him.’

She complied, tugging at the hem of her skirt.

‘Permit?’ Helix said, his hand held out.

Pulling a small handbag from behind her, she poked around inside and handed over a card.

‘Jasmin?’ Helix said, matching the image on the card with the person sitting opposite.

‘It’s my stage name,’ she replied. ‘I’m an—’

‘I’m not interested in your day job.’ He flipped the card and tapped it on the scanner in his jacket sleeve. ‘Oh dear. You’re past your sell by date, Jasminge.’

‘It’s Jasmin, funny man, and there must be some kind of mistake.’

‘Nope. No mistake. You’re three weeks past your health check and vaccinations.’ He smiled. ‘Hope yours are up to date, fella,’ he added, looking at the minder. ‘OK. So, this is all a bit awkward.’

‘Is there anything I can do to make the problem go away?’ She pouted, leaning forward.

‘Hmm. Tempting, but no.’ He handed the card back. ‘And bribing an officer is also an offense.’

‘I wasn’t offering you money,’ she said.

‘Assault with a diseased weapon is also an offence.’ He sighed. ‘But it looks like it’s your lucky night. Technically, I should call a meat wagon and have you carted off for processing, but I’ve got better things to do.’ He opened the door. ‘You can go.’

She wriggled to the edge of the seat.

Helix caught her arm. ‘You were never here and you’ve never seen me. Understood?’

She nodded.

He gritted his teeth. ‘Good. Because you don’t ever want to cross my path again.’ He released her arm. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

She nodded again and made for the door.

‘Wait,’ Helix said.

She looked back over her shoulder.

‘Has he paid you?’

She slid back up onto the seat. ‘It’s normally cash on delivery.’ She flicked her eyebrows.

‘He won’t be delivering anything.’ Helix nodded at the minder. ‘Cough up.’

The minder slid the sleeve over his wrist band. Jasmin leaned over and touched hers against his. A faint beep confirmed the transaction.

She turned to Helix. ‘Thanks.’

With the door closed, Helix leaned back in the seat, the gun trained on the minder.

Lowering his hands into his lap, the minder spoke. ‘I know you. You’re Nath—’ He stiffened, blinked and looked down at the two red patches spreading through the cotton of his white shirt. He ran his fingers shakily over the blood and slumped forward.

Helix caught him by the shoulders and shoved him back into the seat. He holstered his gun and checked the time. ‘Phase two complete.’

33

12 Hours

Waterloo was alive with pedestrians, disguising the fact that it was close to midnight. The single surviving demand of city life seemed to be how to spend your time and the Government’s money. The day of the week was irrelevant; every night was Friday night or Saturday night, every hour was happy hour. Most of the populace hadn’t got a clue what time or day it was, much less care.

Sheltering behind the hoardings, Helix waited for a pause in the pedestrian traffic. His eyes had stopped watering. He didn’t wear sunglasses when it was dark as a fashion statement. Linked with his ocular enhancements, they distributed the augmented reality overlay across both eyes. On this occasion they had also provided protection against most of the capsaicin-laced spray, the remains of which he was still trying to get out of his mouth. He spat again, dabbing his fingers on the parallel scratches on his left cheek. The pepper spray was an old defence that, so far, technology had failed to better. He slipped through the gap, pulled the hoardings closed and turned towards the station.

Back at the luggage lockers, he recovered his daysack, checked the nano-cams he’d left back at the building site and slipped out of the side entrance. ‘Phase three complete,’ he said, heading east. ‘All quiet there?’

‘All quiet,’ Sofi responded. ‘You have approximately 7 hours until dawn.’

He picked up his pace. His objective was 5.4 miles away, estimated walking time: 1 hour 49 mins. ‘I should be on location in around 90 minutes.’ He tightened the straps on his daysack and bent himself to the task.

Forty-five minutes later he entered Southwark Park from the north. Pausing beneath a horse chestnut tree by the bandstand, he sipped from a bottle of water. Fat drops of rain clung to the branches. Reaching up, he tugged at a twig unleashing a deluge, a trick he’d learned from Jon which in turn he’d handed down to Ethan. The happy memories were made more vivid by the smell of autumn riding on the breeze. It evoked other memories he’d sooner have left forgotten. His destination was a blend of both. Stowing the bottle, he pressed on, the towers of Canary Wharf looming over the treeline.

Doubt and guilt bloomed in his chest in equal measure. It felt like the Meridian and the Observatory were cursed. If he hadn’t persuaded Ethan to set up there, none of this would be happening. Gabrielle’s gift of the Observatory was generous, but they didn’t belong there. She’d been right about the scientific community. They had huffed and puffed but hadn’t got over it. The destruction of the landmark would only bring more rancour. It would be rebuilt, but not by them. The next 12 hours were critical. Gabrielle was safe, for now. Ethan was the priority.

The prime meridian marked the eastern edge of