Thieves Like Us 01 - Thieves Like Us (2 page)

He never got the chance.

As Wilson brought down his club, Patch ducked and dodged neatly out of the way. At the same time, Con slipped behind the warder. Jonah blinked, and so almost missed the bit where she knocked the baton from Wilson’s hand and struck him in the stomach. Next thing he knew, Patch was wielding the club while Wilson lay sprawled on the concrete floor, gasping for breath.

‘Now come on, you kids,’ Wilson said weakly, like he thought he was still somehow in control. ‘I don’t know what your game is, but give it up. You can’t hope to walk out of here.’

‘Kids?’ Con hauled him up by one arm. ‘Look at me, you patronising little man.’ Her green eyes were unblinking, as green and cold as Arctic waters. ‘What is his name, Jonah?’

The warder looked at him warningly.

‘She asked you a question, Jonah,’ said Patch quietly. ‘What, you’re on
his
side, now?’

At least I understand his side
, thought Jonah, his mouth dry.

‘Wilson,’ he croaked at last. ‘His name’s Wilson.’

‘Well, well, Mr Wilson. I am glad you woke up. We have need of you.’

‘If you think you can use me as a hostage –’ He broke off, wincing as she placed a hand on the back of his neck.

‘Mr Wilson, you are going to do something for us. You are going to walk to the main gate and tell them to open up.’

‘You must be out of your –’

‘Shhh.’ Con leaned in to the warder’s face like she was going to kiss him, her eyes boring into his own, her voice soft and soothing as her fingers stroked his neck. ‘You
will
walk to the main gate,’ she assured him. ‘You will tell the guards there to open up so that a white van may gain entrance.’

Wilson just stared at her, kind of glassily.

‘The driver will not be carrying identification, but you can vouch for her. Ask that they bend the rules
and let her through. She is … some entertainment you have arranged for Doug Hurst, no? It’s his birthday today.’

‘Entertainment,’ said Wilson, nodding as if this was a perfectly plausible idea.

‘For Doug’s birthday,’ Con reminded him gently. It was weird; the way she spoke, her words …She sounded so much older than she looked.

Patch didn’t. ‘Say you’ll show them some juicy photos of the gig later,’ he smirked. ‘
Well
juicy photos.’

Con ignored him, all her attention on Wilson. ‘Once you have told them this, you will go back inside, sit at the front desk and fall asleep.’ Her voice grew softer, huskier. ‘You will fall into a deep, deep sleep, and when you wake up you will remember nothing of this evening’s events whatsoever. Do you understand me, Wilson?’

The warder nodded meekly.

‘Then off you go.’

She let go of him and he shambled off out of the corridor.

‘I’m the one in the deep, deep sleep,’ Jonah muttered, pulling on his trainers. ‘I’ve got to be dreaming, right?’ He sank back against the cell wall and checked his watch. It was three o’clock exactly. ‘Got to be.’ Five minutes ago, the world stank but at least it was sane. Now …

‘Two minutes till Motti’s due at the main entrance,’ hissed Patch. ‘Come on, Con, fix up the geek and let’s get going!’

‘Who’s Motti?’ Jonah demanded. ‘And what do you mean, fix up the –?’

‘How long have you been in this pit, Jonah?’ Con started walking slowly, steadily towards him.

‘Too long,’ he said stiffly.

‘I’ll bet you have dreamed of all the things you would like to do.’ She unzipped her black jacket, which fell open to reveal a high-necked blouse. ‘You have dreamed of
this
moment, yes? The moment of release.’

‘Release?’

‘Life is about opportunities.’ She moved in close, her slim fingers slipping around the topmost of her blouse’s tiny black buttons. ‘And this is the biggest opportunity you’ll ever have, Jonah. This is the chance of a lifetime.’

He stared transfixed as the little buttons popped open, one by one. ‘What are you … I mean, you can’t …We only just –’

But Con had already tugged open the neck of her blouse. Jonah’s voice died in his throat as he saw the two glass ampoules glowing a sickly yellow, affixed just beneath her collarbone.

‘But like any other chance – before you take it, you have to make it.’ She plucked both ampoules deftly from the pale skin without even glancing down. ‘One for you and one for me.’

‘What are they?’ Jonah said as she pressed one into his hand.

‘We may need them if Wilson does not convince. And if we run into any more trouble on the way out.’

Jonah felt reality falling away. This was all a joke, it had to be – some big elaborate wind-up. ‘You’re really going to do it? You’ll get me out of here?’

‘Do not let go of this till I say.’ Con closed Jonah’s fingers around the ampoule. ‘Phosphor caps are quite stable at body temperature, but away from the skin they cool quickly and …’ She puffed up her cheeks then blew out the air as if by way of demonstration.

Jonah stared at his fist. ‘You used these to get in here.’

‘Amongst other things.’

‘Why’s it gone so quiet out there? What did you do to everyone?’

‘Your questions can wait.
We
can’t.’

Patch nodded. ‘So are you coming, or what?’

Jonah stared at them helplessly. ‘Who
are
you people?’

‘Maybe your best friends. Maybe your worst nightmare.’ Con’s eyes seemed to glitter as she gestured to the cell door, which still stood wide open. The shadowy corridor was waiting outside. ‘Want to find out which?’

Jonah’s heart started to race as he was pushed out of his cell. How many times had he trudged along this corridor, eyes down, trying to keep out of trouble? But suddenly the unit seemed like another world, strange and unreal to him. The lights were down low. Wisps of white smoke coiled about his ankles. He started to walk. Con had one hand on his shoulder, steering him onwards. It was unnaturally quiet, no one about, save for a few officers slumped against the walls or sprawled on the floor.

He didn’t want to know if they were dead or just sleeping. His mind had locked on a single thought, bright like the glass pellet trapped in his sweaty fist:
You’re getting out
. Jonah was picking up speed now, his feet slapping down on the corridor, breaking into a stumbling run.
It’s really going to happen
.

They were headed for the next wing. It seemed a roundabout route to the main exit. Jonah glanced back at Con, puzzled.

‘Not safe to go out the same way we came in,’ she told him. ‘The caps only stun. The screws we zapped will be waking up.’

A turn in the corridor revealed a heavy iron door
blocking their way.

‘What the hell is this?’ Con looked at Jonah accusingly as if he’d put it there himself. ‘This wasn’t on the plans.’

‘Looks new.’ Patch sniffed. ‘Yeah, smell that oil. The lock’s still lubed.’ He plunged two delicate metal rods into the keyhole and shook his head. ‘They use five-pin tumblers and call a place secure. It’s a bleedin’ insult.’

‘Could you stop being offended and just pick the damn thing?’

‘What, Con?’ The door swung open and Patch smiled cheekily. ‘Couldn’t hear what you said. Too busy picking the damn thing.’

‘That’s faster than the screws manage with a key,’ said Jonah.

Con shoved him through the doorway. ‘You can praise him later.’

‘Don’t let her boss you, Jonah,’ said Patch. ‘You can praise me right now. I can take it.’

Con was pushing them both along the corridor now, forcing them into a run. Noise was starting up, hoarse shouts and swearing from the cells, jeering and laughter. When no screws slapped them down, they grew bolder, louder, started banging on their doors. Jonah could feel the fear and excitement building around him.

‘Animals,’ said Con darkly. ‘We should have drugged the whole lot of them, not just your block.’

‘You drugged my whole
block
?’ Jonah skidded to a halt. ‘How the hell did you –?’

‘Keep moving,’ Con told him.

‘We spiked the chicken and the tuna in the canteen,’ Patch told him, ignoring a glare from Con. ‘You’re a veggie, aren’t you?’

‘How’d you know that?’

‘Only four lettuce-lovers in your whole block.’ Again, Patch grinned. ‘Guess the other three sleep heavy.’

‘We knew noise like this would only make you more scared,’ said Con. ‘Harder work.’

Jonah folded his arms. ‘Right. Nothing to do with the fact that you can’t do that creepy hypnotism unless it’s quiet?’

‘Mesmerism,’ she corrected him with a tight smile. ‘It is called
mesmerism
, yes? Now,
move
.’

She shoved Jonah forward, urging him to run through the harsh contours of the block. But his mind was racing way ahead. Drugged food? Stun bombs? Just what the hell was he getting himself into? These people had the cash and the know-how to pull off a spectacular jailbreak, and yet they were pretty much kids like he was. Con had mastered some freaky hypnosis thing, Patch could open a door faster than Jonah could open an envelope. But was Motti their boss or just another specialist – good with electrics, perhaps?

Whatever, they were going to big trouble to break Jonah out. It didn’t take a genius to know they must need him for
his
little speciality – Jonah Wish, the cipherpunk.

But what if he didn’t want to play ball? What would happen to him then?

‘We made it!’ Patch kicked open the door that led
out to the reception area. Jonah ran through, saw two officers slumped on the desk, snoring softly. One of them was Wilson. Clearly he’d done just as he was told.

The main doors stood unbolted.

‘Worked like a charm. No one lifted a finger to stop us!’ Con smiled. ‘Lock that door behind us, Patch.’ While her accomplice got busy, she held out a hand to Jonah. ‘OK, let me have that cap I gave you.’

Jonah looked between her and the main doors. Then he smiled, reached out his hand …

Shut his eyes and threw the cap down at her feet.

The glass burst with a blinding light and a thick fog of smoke. He heard Patch swear. Con shouted as she jumped back and crashed into the reception desk. But Jonah was already running for the doors.

‘Sorry,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘but you did say life was about opportunities.’

Heart in his mouth, Jonah slung open one of the doors. He felt the night air cold on his face, and a moment’s euphoria. They’d wanted him to go with them, and he had – as far as the exit. Now it was time to make and take his
own
chances.

The yard outside was dark and silent. A white van was parked close by – had to be Con and Patch’s friend, OK’d by Wilson and let through at the main gate. Jonah swiftly changed direction, backing off round the side of the reception building. He’d never make it past the guards on foot, but there had to be some other way of getting out of this –

He gasped as something fell on him from above, knocking him to the ground – or rather, some
body
.
Before he could catch his breath, he was dragged to his feet and shoved up against the wall by a tall, rangy guy with black hair pulled back in a ponytail and a razor-cut goatee.

The guy’s hand closed threateningly on his throat. ‘Going somewhere, Jonah?’

‘S’pose not,’ gasped Jonah, and the pressure on his throat relaxed a little. The guy was maybe twenty, sounded American. His fierce scowl would have been more intimidating if his round-rimmed glasses hadn’t come loose in the tumble – the left lens was now perched on his nose. ‘You must be Motti. The boss man.’

‘Boss man?
Him?
’ Jonah turned to find Patch and Con slipping through the shadows towards them, Patch laughing like a drain. ‘Wait till Coldhardt hears!’

Jonah frowned. ‘Coldhardt?’

‘Shut your dumb mouth, Patch,’ Motti hissed, quickly straightening his glasses. ‘What gives with the geek getaway, Con? Losing your touch?’

‘He’s got more nerve than we thought.’ Con shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to put him under. I thought it best he could watch out for himself if we found trouble.’

‘Looks to me like he
is
trouble,’ said Motti. ‘Maybe we should just off him now. Say
sayonara
.’

Con arched an eyebrow. ‘You want to explain that to Coldhardt?’

He shrugged. ‘Shit happens.’

‘Smells to me like it already did.’ Jonah forced himself to face Motti’s stare; he’d learned a thing or two
about standing up to creeps these last two months inside. ‘What happened, get scared up on the dark spooky roof all by yourself?’

Patch sniggered, but Motti only tightened his grip on Jonah’s throat once more. ‘Careful, geek. Working the lights from up there was a cinch – and I can punch out yours just as easily. You got a big mouth.’

‘And a fair-sized brain,’ Jonah gasped, acting about twenty degrees cooler than he felt. ‘Which is why Coldhardt sent you here to spring me, right? So how about you stop wasting time and get on with it.’

‘He’s right,’ said Con. ‘We’re pushing our luck already. Come on, Tye is waiting.’ She grabbed Jonah by the hand and pulled him free of Motti’s grip.

Now, as well as fear, Jonah felt embarrassed as he was dragged towards the white van. He knew Con must be able to feel him trembling. But to his surprise, as Motti and Patch caught up with them she simply gave his hand a little squeeze of reassurance.

Motti slid open the rear door. ‘Get in, Patch. C’mon, Con, you too. Guards on the gate need to think Tye’s come back out alone.’

Con shook her head. ‘I’m taking the front. I’ll crouch down out of sight.’

‘No way. What if the guards on the gate look in and see you?’

‘They won’t. It’ll be cool.’

‘Jeez, Con, you knew the plan. As soon as we’re clear of this dump you can get out and –’

‘I’m
taking the front
!’ Con opened the passenger door and climbed nimbly inside, slamming it shut behind her.

‘What was all that about?’ hissed Jonah.

‘Don’t go there,’ muttered Motti. He roughly bundled Jonah inside after Patch, then scrambled in himself.

The moment he’d shut the door, the van engine roared into life. It was pitch black – the windows were blanked out and a divider had been put up between the front and the rear. Jonah felt sick with nerves.