Joe Craig - Jimmy Coates - Revenge

It didn’t take long for the man to find some bandages and patch up his ear properly. Then he pulled a mirror from Dr Higgins’ old desk and wiped most of the blood from his face. His shirt was almost completely red, blending in with the worn, leather worktop.

“Well?” barked Miss Bennett. “What have you got for me? I’ve been told you’re a genius.” Before Stanton could even smile, she added, “I never trust what I’m told.”

In response, Stanton could only sneer. When he started his explanation, there were daggers in his voice.

“As you know,” he began, “Jimmy Coates doesn’t transmit a signal.” He pulled out a pile of papers from a drawer and slammed them down in front of him on the desk. “He was designed that way so that no enemy could trace him. Unfortunately, it means that we can’t trace him either. So I wondered whether, instead of transmitting a signal, he could receive one. He wasn’t designed to receive signals electronically, but I studied Dr Higgins’ old notes and I believe that if we transmit a series of strong enough images, bombarding every frequency, it could be enough to jam Jimmy’s programming.”

“What do you mean, jam his programming?” Miss Bennett scoffed. “He’ll just fall over and melt?”

“No, he won’t even realise it’s happening, but we could force him to do certain things he would never usually do, or go places without knowing why. All the time, he’d feel like it was his programming compelling him to act. But it’ll be us.”

Mitchell looked across at Miss Bennett’s blank expression. He wasn’t great with computers, but this seemed like technical talk that was fairly simple to understand.

“You mean it’ll be like hacking into him and giving him a virus.” He tried to sound casual about it, but really he thought Stanton’s idea was one of the most fantastic he had ever heard. Miss Bennett glanced at him. He didn’t look back, but couldn’t hide his proud smile.

“Yeah, that’s sort of right,” Stanton replied. His ear may have been bandaged now, but he hadn’t forgotten about his run-in with Mitchell. He glared at him a moment longer than was necessary. “Except that we can’t just email it to him,” he went on. “We need to transmit it through the airwaves and force it on him. So it’s everywhere around him – in the very air he breathes.”

“But we don’t know where he is,” Miss Bennett interjected. “We’d need a transmitter strong enough to cover the whole country.”

“Or a network of transmitters.” Stanton let his full lips curl into a smile. His eyes twinkled like the earring Mitchell had ripped out.

“You look like a man who has something in mind, Ark,” Miss Bennett cooed.

“Mobile phone masts.”

“Yes, of course,” Miss Bennett gasped, leaning back in her seat. Her eyes seemed to go misty for a second or two and her words were faint. “Even if we can’t find him,” she whispered, “we can control him.”

“The signal might periodically jam some other electrical systems,” Stanton interrupted, “but nothing serious.”

“Like what?” Miss Bennett asked suspiciously.

“The power supply, air-traffic control, TV reception.”

“Air-traffic control isn’t serious?”

Stanton shrugged. “Were you thinking of flying somewhere?”

Miss Bennett stroked her chin for a second, then also shrugged.

“What about me?” Mitchell asked. “Won’t I also, you know, pick up the signal?” He squirmed a little – referring to himself as if he was a radio didn't come naturally.

“Forget about it,” Stanton told him. “You might get headaches or muscle cramps, but the signal’s designed for Jimmy’s psyche, not yours.”

Mitchell nodded uncertainly.

“So,” Miss Bennett cut in, “apart from control over every phone mast in the country, what else do you need?”

“I need to know everything there is to know about Jimmy,” Stanton gabbled, delighted that his plan was being taken seriously. “For maximum impact I’ll need a psychologist, a graphic designer, and a complete behavioural and emotional profile of the target.”

“You need to know how Jimmy behaves and feels?”

“Yes – I need to get inside his head. Will I have any chance to interview the Prime Minister? He would know him best, wouldn’t he?”

“No time for that,” Miss Bennett murmured. “He’s in America.”

She thought for a moment and looked sideways at Mitchell. He always assumed he had done something wrong when she did that, but he held his chest out, not wanting to seem uneasy.

“Eva Doren,” Miss Bennett announced suddenly. “The girl’s known him for years through his sister. Recently she was even living with him. She must have observed something. I knew that girl would be useful to this organisation.” Miss Bennett jumped up, full of excitement.

“What about her family?” Stanton asked. “Are they still looking for her?”

“Unfortunately, yes. They’re a nuisance.”

“What if they find out she’s here and take her away? I don’t want to lose Eva halfway through the project. I’m not so worried about her parents, but those two brothers of hers are angry. I heard they were smart too. They could cause problems. And Eva’s intelligence will be integral to this project.”

Miss Bennett raised an eyebrow. “Is she that clever?”

“This isn’t a joke, Miss Bennett. You know I mean the vital information she can provide us about the target.” Stanton’s expression was becoming more fraught. Miss Bennett raised a hand to calm him down.

“I’ll deal with them,” she said softly. “Her parents and her brothers. Don’t worry. But wait a minute, if we’re going to control Jimmy, we have to decide what we’re going to make him do…”

Stanton smiled, relaxed once more and leaned forward to conspire closer.

“Actually, I have designed some rough images ready for transmission. I thought this would be the perfect way to implement the Reflex Plan.”

Miss Bennett seemed to freeze. This was the first time Mitchell had seen her remotely close to being dumbfounded, but he had no idea what this ‘Reflex Plan’ was. Gradually, Miss Bennett’s expression melted into one of utter glee.

“Well, that would mean I could assign this young gentleman another mission.” She was almost talking to herself, but Mitchell knew she meant him. Then she leapt up and her words reverberated around the bunker. “Well, what are you waiting for? We can improve the images as we go along. For now – start transmitting the signal.”

“Miss Bennett,” Stanton smirked, “we already are.”

Jimmy knew not to look the checkout girl in the eye. But his new appearance made him seem older than nearly twelve, and he could think of a much more natural way for a teenage boy to act. When he took his change he lifted his head and smiled.

“Thanks, love,” he grunted. Then he winked and swaggered away.

His hair was bleached blond now, and spiked. It wasn’t inconspicuous, but it was certainly different to the pictures of him on the news. His new look, combined with his confident demeanour, meant there was no way that checkout girl would connect him to the boy everyone was after.

Jimmy moved briskly down the street. Since Zafi had left them, they had spent three days in hiding at the Bed and Breakfast place. Too long , Jimmy thought. Despite Zafi telling them to move on straight away, they had stayed put, waiting for Christopher Viggo. But now, even in this short walk back from the corner shop, Jimmy saw threats on every side. Every shadow twitched; every sound was a cocked rifle; every passer-by was an NJ7 agent about to pounce.

Jimmy pulled his hoodie over his head and quickened his stride. His heart picked up its pace as well. There was something wrong. It was in the rhythm of his steps – they had an echo. Somebody was following him. He stopped dead. One step later, so did whoever was following. Jimmy pretended to be looking in a shop window. He studied the reflection, comparing every shadow to what he could remember of the street behind him. What had changed? He could feel his gut churning, but was it his programming preparing for a strike, or his fear?