Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [46]
‘Where?’ said Creed.
‘The seventh floor. No immediate threat.’
No immediate threat, thought Creed as he ran down the corridor and threw himself into the elevator. Rebounding off one mirrored wall, he spun around and jabbed the button.
Seventh floor.
Amy.
Chapter 18
‘He’s about three years older than Ricky,’ Creed said.
Amy put her hand on his shoulder and gently rubbed his back. Creed realized he was trembling.
‘You had to do it,’ she said.
‘I know I had to do it,’ snapped Creed. ‘That doesn’t make me feel any better about it. He was just a kid.’
The kid was lying on the floor between two desks. He had long hair and it streamed out on the pale carpet above his head like a flow of black ink. He was wearing white overalls that had been clean before. Now they had two small red patches just below his collar, where Creed had shot him.
He was about nineteen. He was just a kid.
Creed remembered seeing him in the parking lot when he’d driven in. The kid had been unloading stuff from his plumbing van. The kid had looked disgusted about having to work on Saturday.
‘He looked pissed off about his job,’ said Creed.
‘What?’ said Amy.
‘I saw him downstairs when I arrived. He looked pissed off about having to do his job. I thought his job was being a plumber. But I guess it was actually to break in here. Anyway, he seemed pissed off with it.’
Creed wondered if he was still trembling. It was difficult to tell because Amy was holding him so close, hugging him so hard.
‘What happened? Jesus Christ.’ They turned to see Stanmer coming through the glass doors. He had his sidearm in one hand but was already returning it to his holster. He kneeled beside the dead kid and studied the gun that lay beside the kid’s outstretched left hand.
He was left-handed, thought Creed, staring down at the dead body over Amy’s shoulder. Kneeling on the carpet Buddy Stanmer looked up at them. Amy was still holding Creed and
neither of them made any effort to hide the fact from Stanmer.
‘What happened?’ said Stanmer again.
‘He was coming out of the communications room.’
‘He was coming out and he saw me,’ said Amy. ‘He saw me and he pulled his gun. I was unarmed. I’d just put my weapon back in the armoury.’ Amy winced at the memory. ‘I was standing there unarmed and he drew on me and he was about to shoot me.’
‘We’re not sure of that,’ said Creed.
‘I’m sure of it. But before he could fire Creed came in and shot him.’
‘Nice going,’ said Stanmer. He bent over and picked up the kid’s gun, kicking the kid’s hand aside, as though there was some danger of residual activity.
‘I killed him,’ said Creed.
‘You sure did,’ said Stanmer. ‘Nice shooting.’
‘You had to kill him,’ said Amy. She hugged him fiercely.
‘You saved my life,’ she said.
‘And I was worrying about you getting enough practice on the target range,’ said Stanmer. He shook his head, smiling.
‘I haven’t shot anyone in years,’ said Creed. ‘I’d forgotten what it felt like.’
‘Don’t waste any tears on this little bag of shit,’ said Stanmer, stepping over the dead kid. ‘You should be worrying about us.’ He put the gun on a desk and looked around. ‘He was coming out of the communications room, eh?’ Stanmer shook his head woefully. ‘This should never have happened. This is very bad news. If the opposition has penetrated us this easily, our security is seriously compromised.’
He walked over to the open door of the communications room. ‘What did he do in here?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Creed. ‘We haven’t had a chance to look.’ He and Amy followed Stanmer into the communications room.
Inside the small concrete cubicle were five computers.
They were unusual in that none of them were networked.
Being connected to the network inevitably left a computer open to intrusion from outside. These computers talked to the outside world along a single land-line, connected to a single destination.
Stanmer moved deeper into the room to make room for Creed and Amy.
Four of the computers extended to other Agency communications centres spread across America. The fifth took messages