Agent 21 (9 page)

‘OK, Zak,’ Raf said. ‘This is where it starts to get interesting.’

Gabs interrupted. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that to him, Raf.’ Her face was very serious, her blue eyes intense. She ran one hand through her white-blonde
hair. ‘You need to listen to me carefully, Zak. Once you’re activated, you’ll find yourself in some dangerous situations. The whole reason Michael wants you as an agent is so that you can get access to places where adults would cause suspicion. Nothing’s going to raise people’s eyebrows more than kids with guns, so you’ll find it pretty rare to be inserted anywhere with a firearm. You’ll likely be surrounded by them, though, so you need to know how to recognize and operate the major types.’

Zak nodded.

‘This isn’t playground stuff, Zak. Each one of these weapons can kill you instantly if you don’t use them properly.’ She glanced at Raf. ‘Interesting enough for you, Raf?’ she asked.

Raf grunted and approached the table. He picked up the weapon on the far left-hand side. ‘This is a handgun,’ he said. ‘We call it that because it’s designed to be held in one hand. Your other hand supports the firing arm. Some people call them pistols – same difference. They’re small, light and easy to carry. There are different types of handgun, but the ones you’re most likely to come across are revolvers and semiautomatics. Revolvers have a rotating chamber that normally holds between five and eight rounds. Semiautomatics use the energy from firing one round to load the next into the chamber. You only need to cock
the hammer once, and the gun will do the rest. Are you getting this?’

‘I think so.’

‘This is a Browning Hi-Power. It’s one of the most common semi-automatic pistols in the world. There’s a safety switch on the side, but some handguns have their safety in the handle, which means the gun will only fire when the user is holding it. If the weapon is loaded and the safety’s on, we say it’s locked and loaded. This gun fires nine-millimetre rounds – that’s the size of the bullets – and has a thirteen-round magazine. All making sense?’

‘Nine-millimetre, thirteen rounds,’ Zak repeated. His brain ached from trying to take it all in.

Raf lay the handgun back on the table and picked up the next gun – a longer one this time. ‘This is an assault rifle,’ he continued. ‘AK-47. Some people call it a Kalashnikov after the guy who designed it. This is the most popular gun in the world. Other common types of assault rifle are the M16, the Colt Commando and the C4 carbine. The AK fires 7.62 millimetre rounds – people refer to these as seven-six-twos or thirty calibres. The safety catch on an assault rifle typically has three settings: off, semi-automatic and fully automatic. When it’s set to off, the weapon is safe; semi-automatic, each time you pull the trigger it will discharge one round; fully automatic and the
weapon will continue firing until you take your finger off the trigger or it runs out of ammo.’

Raf moved on to a third weapon. ‘This is a Heckler and Koch MP5. It’s a sub-machine-gun. Machine guns are fully automatic; sub-machine-guns fire smallcalibre rounds similar to pistols. MP5s typically fire seven to nine hundred rounds per minute. If you see somebody carrying one, duck.’

Zak nodded.

‘We’ll start with the handgun,’ Raf said. ‘Put these on.’ He handed Zak a set of protective headphones, then he and Gabs both put some on themselves. Zak watched as Gabs picked up the Browning Hi-Power and inserted a magazine into the handle with a satisfying clunk. She approached one of the firing ranges, unlocked the safety catch and raised the handgun.

She fired three shots. One hit the target square in the forehead; the other two made holes in the centre of the chest. Gabs switched the safety back on and handed the gun to Zak.

He handled it gingerly at first. ‘Don’t be scared of it, sweetie,’ Gabs said. ‘You need to respect your firearm, but remember that you’re in charge. Now, switch off the safety and raise your arm.’

Zak did as he was told.

‘Steady yourself,’ Gabs told him. ‘When you fire
there’ll be a recoil. You need to be ready for it. Take a shot in your own time.’

Zak lined the sights up with the target’s chest – for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to attempt a head shot. He took a breath and fired.

The recoil was worse than he was expecting, jarring his arm up and to the left. He looked hopefully at his target, but there wasn’t even a single mark on it.

Raf and Gabs glanced at each other. ‘We’ll practise every day,’ Raf said. ‘We’ll soon get you—’

But Zak was hardly listening to him. He had already lined up the sights with the target once more and this time he knew what was coming. He steeled himself, then fired again.

This time he didn’t miss. A small hole appeared just above the heart area. Zak switched the safety back on, lowered the gun and removed his ear-protectors. He turned to his guardian angels. ‘Every day, right?’ he asked as Raf and Gabs shared an astonished look.

He returned to the table, and put the gun back in its place.

As the weeks went by, Zak’s training grew more intense. The runs grew longer, the weights heavier. His mind swam with new facts and techniques, his Spanish, Arabic and Mandarin became practically fluent and he learned to live with the constant bruising on both shoulders as he practised with the assault rifle. Raf taught him to drive, using an old Land Rover that bumped over the rough terrain around St Peter’s Crag. ‘Try not to break the vehicle,’ he said without a hint of a smile. ‘The RAC don’t come out this far.’ It was slow-going at first, but Raf was patient and in a couple of weeks Zak was driving like he’d been doing it all his life.

One day he ran with Gabs to the eastern edge of the island. Before they turned back, however, she stopped. ‘Wait up, Zak,’ she said. ‘We’re doing something different today.’

Zak nodded. He’d grown fond of Gabs. She was
straight-talking and no-nonsense. When your world had changed, you needed someone like that.

They were on top of a cliff and there was a stiff breeze. Gabs pointed out to sea. In the distance there was a tanker, grey against the horizon.

‘See that ship?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

Zak gave her a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean? Because I’ve got eyes and it’s there. What are you talking about, Gabs?’

‘All right then,’ she smiled at him. ‘When you’re running about the island, do you ever see any animals apart from birds?’

Zak thought about it. ‘No,’ he admitted.

‘Why not? After all, you’ve got eyes, and I can promise you they’re there.’

‘What are you getting at?’

‘Concealment, sweetie. There’ll be times when you need to hide. To camouflage yourself, either because someone’s hunting you down or because you’re observing them. You can’t do that effectively unless you know why things are seen. Walk with me and I’ll explain it to you.’

They started strolling away from the cliff edge. ‘The first thing is shape,’ Gabs explained. ‘You knew that was a ship because you know what a ship looks like. I
know what a human being looks like, so if I was observing you, I could easily recognize a full human shape. If you crouch down, though, or hide part of your body, my eyes would be less likely to pick you out.

‘After shape, there’s shadow. If you’re hiding, you need to be aware of where your shadow is falling, otherwise it’s a giveaway. Another giveaway is your silhouette. If you stand against a plain background, like the sky or a field, I’d be able to see you much more easily than if the background is uneven. Make sense?’

Zak smiled at her. ‘All I want to know,’ he said, ‘is why you’re trying to find me in the first place.’

‘Pay attention to this, sweetie. It’s important.’

‘Sorry. Shape, shadow, silhouette. Got that.’

‘Next thing is surface. If an object’s surface is different to its surroundings, it’ll stand out. Shiny things are the worst – if they catch the sunlight, they can be seen from miles. And spacing is really important.’

‘What do you mean.’

Gabs pointed up ahead. ‘See the boulders in that field?’

Zak looked. They were dotted all around. ‘Yeah, I see them.’

‘They’re all randomly spaced. Nature’s like that. Nothing is even. Remember that if you’re trying to melt into the background. Last thing: movement. You
might be so well camouflaged that I could be staring straight at you and not know you’re there. But the second you move . . . it’s bye-bye.’

Gabs’s turn of phrase made him feel uneasy.

‘I wish I’d known all this when Michael was following me back in London,’ he said.

‘I’m not sure it would have done much good,’ Gabs replied. ‘Michael can find just about anybody, even if they don’t want to be seen.’

‘Is he that good?’ Zak asked.

‘He’s the best,’ said Gabs, and there was no doubt in her voice.

They walked for a bit in silence.

‘Gabs?’ Zak said after a bit. Something had been bothering him and he didn’t quite know how to say it.

‘Yeah?’

‘You know these operations I’m supposed to be training for? Nobody’s told me what they are. You know, what to expect.’

‘That’s because we don’t know yet. Me and Raf, anyway.’

‘What about Michael? Does he know?’

‘Maybe. He wouldn’t tell us if he did.’

They walked some more.

‘I’m scared,’ Zak admitted.

‘Good,’ said Gabs. She didn’t say it in a mean way; her voice was quite gentle.

‘What do you mean, good?’

‘Fear is an important emotion, Zak. You can’t stop it, but if you can admit you’re scared, that’s the first step to controlling it. And if you can’t control your fear, it can get in the way of you making the right decisions. A bit of fear is good. It keeps you alert. Trust me – in our line of work you don’t want to get blasé.’

‘I just wish I knew what our line of work was.’

‘You will, Zak. When you’re ready. There’s still a lot for you to learn.’

Zak frowned. ‘You know what scares me most of all?’

‘What’s that, sweetie?’

‘Michael calls me Agent 21. But he wouldn’t tell me what happened to Agents 1 to 20. I can’t help thinking they must be . . . you know . . .
dead
.’

Gabs looked at him seriously for a moment. ‘Would it help you to meet some of them?’ she asked.

Zak nodded mutely.

‘All right then.’ She held out her hand. ‘Agent 17, pleased to meet you.’

Zak blinked. ‘You mean . . .
you’re
. . .’

‘Of course. And Raf is my predecessor, Agent 16. But to be honest, we prefer “Gabs” and “Raf”. It’s so much more personal, don’t you think? Really, sweetie, you shouldn’t look so surprised. What do you think they do with us when we’ve outgrown our usefulness?’
She winked. ‘Find us a nice quiet little job in a garden centre somewhere? Come on, it’s getting cold. Let’s run back. Morse code this afternoon.’ And without waiting for an answer, she started jogging.

It rained for the rest of the day. Zak was glad they were inside, even if the piece of paper Gabs and Raf gave him looked very complicated. ‘Morse code is more than a hundred years old,’ Raf explained, ‘but you’d be surprised how useful it can be. You probably know how to send an SOS.’

‘Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot?’

‘Right. But once you’re proficient, you can use it to transmit any message. Most pilots and air-traffic controllers are fluent, and so are special forces signallers. Morse code uses rhythm to transmit messages – sequences of short and long elements to represent different letters, using sound or light. That piece of paper shows you the Morse code alphabet.’

Zak studied it.

‘Each dash is three times the length of a dot,’ Raf explained. ‘With practice, you should be able to deliver Morse code messages very quickly.’

‘Let me guess,’ Zak said. ‘The practice starts now.’

Gabs smiled at Raf. ‘He’s getting the hang of it, isn’t he?’

Morse Code Alphabet
The international morse code characters

A .-

B -...

C -.-.

D -..

E .

F ..-.

G --.

H ...

I ..

J .---

K -.-

L .-..

M --

N -.

O ---

P .--.

Q --.-

R .-.

S ...

T -

U ..-

V ...-

W .--

X -..-

Y -.--

Z --..