Alex Scarrow - City of Shadows

Then she saw her face. Becks. Only of course it wasn’t Becks.

‘Jesus! You guys took your goddamn time!’ the mall guard called out, relieved at the sight of five cops jogging along the narrow service passage towards him.

‘These the two perps you called in?’ said one of them. A police sergeant. He and one of the others were carrying shotguns.

‘Yeah. These are them.’

‘They don’t match the description our boys called in,’ he said, pumping shells into the weapon’s breech. ‘Armed male and female. Both adults, both Caucasian.’ He looked at Rashim and Sal. ‘These clearly aren’t them.’

‘But — ’

‘Jason, take these two out!’

‘Yessir,’ said one of the cops.

‘You give your details to him,’ he said to Sal and Rashim. ‘We’ll need witness statements off you later.’

‘Right,’ said Sal. ‘Thanks.’

The sergeant stroked his chin thoughtfully, his radio crackled with traffic. More cops on their way in. An armed response unit among them.

‘We got several officers down in there, sir.’

‘I know that!’ the police sergeant barked. ‘I know that. Lemme think. Lemme think.’

Just then they heard the echo of a door bang open, the slap of heavy footsteps on linoleum. Nothing Sal could see. It came from around the corner, from where she and Rashim had just emerged via the toystore’s stockroom some minutes ago.

‘Who’s that?’ whispered one of the cops.

The footsteps echoed. Heavy. Even. Measured.

‘It’s one of them!’ said Sal.

‘Them? Who?’ The sergeant cocked his weapon. ‘One of the shooters?’

She nodded.

‘POLICE!’ he called out quickly. ‘WE ARE ARMED POLICE.’ His voice rolled down the passageway and eventually faded to silence.

The sound of approaching footsteps suddenly ceased.

‘POLICE!’ he called again. ‘YOU BEST COME ROUND WITH YOUR HANDS UP!’

There was no reply. Just the sound of an ammo clip being ejected and rattling on the floor. The clack-snick of a new one being rammed home.

‘That don’t sound so good,’ said the mall guard.

‘Just get these two civilians the hell out of here before this turns nasty,’ whispered the sergeant.

The mall guard nodded. Grabbed Sal’s arm. ‘Let’s go, folks.’

‘OK… OK,’ she whispered eagerly.

The guard led the way. ‘Delivery bay six is right up here. Just ahead,’ he said quietly. ‘We can exit that way.’

He picked up the pace. Sal stole one last glance over her shoulder at the huddle of police officers in the anaemic, turquoise glow of the passage’s wall lights, checking their weapons and holding them up and steady in the trained and engrained two-hand legs-apart stance.

‘Here, this way,’ said the guard. He pushed open double doors that led on to an underground delivery bay.

As they stepped out, the mall guard holding the swing doors open for them, Sal thought she heard the police sergeant call out one last challenge. Then, as the echo of his shaky voice tailed away, the passage behind them suddenly sounded like a war zone.

7.37 a.m., 12 September 2001, North Haven Plaza, outside Branford

Liam, Bob and Becks approached the RV cautiously. It sat in the motel’s small forecourt on its own. Overhead the sky was noisy with the thwup-thwup of a police helicopter, hovering above the pale slab of the mall several hundred yards away.

Liam could also hear the sound of several approaching police cars and ambulances coming from further up Interstate 95, brake lights winking on down the congested road like a Mexican wave as drivers slowed to pull aside and let them through.

Ahead of them, the RV.

‘Maddy said we should meet at the diner,’ said Bob.

‘I want to check on SpongeBubba,’ said Liam. ‘You think it’s safe?’ he added. ‘Maybe there’s another of them inside.’

‘I detect no idents,’ said Becks.

‘Just a moment,’ said Bob. He closed his eyes.

‘Why? What’re you doing?’

A few seconds later the rear door of the RV swung open and a yellow cube appeared on the top step.

‘Communicating with the lab unit,’ replied Bob. He smiled down at Liam. ‘SpongeBubba says it’s all clear inside.’

They crossed the last fifty yards, Liam gesturing at SpongeBubba to get back inside. They didn’t need the lab robot attracting attention. Liam climbed up and slumped down on the rear seat, damp with perspiration.

‘Gee!’ said SpongeBubba with a fixed plastic grin. ‘Fun and games!’

Becks looked down at the small robot. ‘No. Not fun and games. Danger.’

Bob clambered inside. The RV rocked. ‘Your warning saved us, lab unit. We are grateful.’

‘You’re welcome. Where’s my skippa?’

Liam looked out through the scuffed perspex, hoping to catch sight of the others weaving through the cars in the mall’s car park towards the motel. Nothing yet.

‘They’re coming,’ he said. ‘They were just behind us. I think.’ He looked at Bob and Becks. ‘Right?’

Bob shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Foster will have slowed them down,’ said Becks. ‘He moved very slowly.’

She was right. Liam decided he should have stayed behind, with Maddy, to help her with the old man. A dreadful thought occurred to him. That those killer meatbots had trapped and finished both of them off. Perhaps Rashim and Sal as well. He felt a growing surge of panic inside him. The idea of spending the rest of his life alone on the run with two support units and something that looked like a yellow bar of soap on stumpy legs terrified him.

Please… please… somebody else turn up.

Faith recognized the young woman instantly. The oval jawline, the glasses, the curly strawberry-blonde hair, all a perfect match. But even without the visual match the look of sudden recognition and sheer horror — as their eyes locked — gave the girl away. Faith reached round behind her and whipped out the handgun from her waistband.

‘Please move out of the way!’ she commanded the evacuating people all around her as she levelled the gun at her target.

‘ OH-MY-GOD-SHE’S-GOT-A-GUN! ’ someone screamed.

That worked better. The crowd, jostling to get down the frozen escalator, dropped to the floor as one, and Faith had a perfect line-of-sight on Maddy. The only person still on her feet.

Maddy pushed the large woman crouching in front, desperately trying to get past. But the woman was too big to make a space on the escalator. Maddy found herself clambering over her back.

‘Ow! Jesus help me! I’m being assaulted!’ screamed the woman.

‘I need to get past!’ Maddy replied. ‘I need to freakin’ well get — ’

A shot rang out. The glass of the escalator’s side exploded. The woman ducked down as shards scattered over her rounded shoulders and Maddy rolled over the top of her, on to someone else in front. Another shot thudded into the thick rubber handrest.

She found her feet and decided she was far enough down the escalator to jump over the side. She landed on the top of a display of plastic tropical bushes embedded in a bed of pebbles. Not the softest landing, but perhaps far better than the mall’s faux marble floor. She scrambled on to her feet yet again, people all around her shrieking in alarm as several more shots rang out across the entrance foyer.

‘Get out, get out!’ Maddy screamed at the bottleneck of people fighting with each other to exit through the revolving door, and the fire exits either side of it.

Faith strode towards the safety rail of the concourse above, overlooking the escalator. She saw her target below on the ground floor, grappling with people, tugging at them to make way for her. She took aim again and fired two shots, emptying the clip. Downstairs, more glass exploded, and the screaming all around her took on a new shrill, intense pitch.