‘Argue later.’ Miri holsters her gun and picks up the tablet. She thumbs the name Roland’s House and glances up as the device once again bathes the room in shimmering blue. ‘Blue is live. I’ll go first,’ Miri says as Safa rushes past.
‘I’m on point,’ Safa says. ‘Harry behind me. Ben next, Miri on rear . . . Shit a brick, I am buzzing my tits off . . .’ She goes forward through the wall of iridescent light with Harry hot on her heels. Both with pistols drawn and held double-handed, pointing down. Ben blinks once and follows them, still wincing as he touches the light, as though he can’t quite believe he’ll pass through it.
Miri goes last, hiding her irritation. She starts the stopwatch with a glance at the time on the tablet and passes through, leaving the good doctor staring at the blue light with the crushing knowledge that right now, he is the only human being on earth.
‘Where the fuck is the handle?’ Safa whisper-snaps as Harry bunches up behind her from Ben bunching up behind him from Miri coming through.
It may be a large wardrobe for clothes, but four people now make the space feel very cramped and confined. Especially with Safa pawing at what she thinks is the door while cursing at why it won’t open.
Ben blinks round at the tight space now bathed in blue from the portal shimmering behind them. Safa moves back, tutting at Harry in her way, while still moving too fast and too wired from the drugs in her system.
‘Move over,’ Safa whisper-snaps again, trying to glare at Harry, who tries moving away, which physically shifts Ben into Miri, who pops into the Cretaceous period, nods at the good doctor and returns to the chaos in the closet.
‘. . . said I can’t bloody find it,’ Safa says, her voice growing louder as her pistol clunks against the inside of the closet door.
‘And I said they don’t put bloody handles on the inside,’ Ben whispers back, trying to peer round Harry to Safa. ‘There won’t be one.’
‘Then how do we get out, Mr Smartarse?’ Safa asks.
‘Push the bloody door,’ Ben groans, then yelps as Harry stands on his foot.
‘I am pushing the door . . .’
‘Sliding door,’ Miri says quietly from the back.
‘Miri said sliding door,’ Ben relays the message.
‘Hang on, I think it’s a sliding door,’ Safa says.
The sound of rollers as light bathes the room to reveal four armed people peering out into a very large, luxurious bedroom. Safa’s pistol lifts to aim as she sweeps. In her peripheral vision, she sees Harry doing the same, then two more joining in.
‘Put your gun away, Ben.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I bloody said so. Put it away.’
‘Fine,’ he says, pushing it back into the holster.
‘Is the safety on?’ Safa asks.
‘Didn’t take it off,’ he mumbles.
‘Moving out,’ Safa says, striding into the bedroom to point her pistol at the bed, at the set of drawers and the mirrors, while Harry points his at the door, at the corners and everything else. ‘Room clear,’ Safa says, nodding too fast as she realises her heart rate is too high. She draws a deep, steadying breath and blinks a few times.
‘Nice room.’
‘DOWN,’ Safa shouts as she, Harry and Miri spin round to aim at the poor doctor falling back with his hands up.
‘It’s me,’ he whimpers.
‘What the fuck?’ Safa asks. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Thought you might need a medic,’ he says, trying to stand upright and regain his dignity.
‘Who said you could come? This is a live job, for fuck’s sake,’ Safa says.
‘You try being the only person on a planet, and see if you like it,’ Doctor Watson retorts, blustering and red-faced as Miri rubs the bridge of her nose.
‘Jesus,’ Safa growls, knowing how bad they look in front of Miri. She tries to focus and switch on, but finds herself blinking rapidly again and twitching her head and shoulders. ‘This is a shower of shit . . .’
‘Safa and Harry abort,’ Miri says. ‘Return to HB. Me and Ben will proceed.’
‘HB?’ Ben asks with a puzzled frown. ‘What was that again? Hungry bunker?’
‘Home base,’ Safa says tightly. ‘We’re fine. Doc, go back . . .’
‘I shall wait here and guard the portal,’ he replies quickly.
‘Fine. Just don’t bloody move anywhere,’ Safa says.
‘You can rely on me,’ Doctor Watson says bravely.
‘Said the drug dealer,’ Ben mutters as Safa goes back to the bedroom door being glared at by Harry.
‘I’ll go first,’ Safa says, getting in front of Harry. ‘I’ll look right, you look left,’ she tells the big man. ‘Ready?’
‘Aye, when you’ve been in a war with tanks,’ Harry says loudly.
‘What?’ Safa asks. ‘Never mind. Right . . . ready?’
‘You said left,’ Harry says.
‘I meant right! As in okay . . . We’re going . . . now . . .’ She opens the door to sweep out with her pistol up and aimed to the right as Harry surges past to aim left. Ben nods in admiration at how cool that just looked. Like something from a movie. He still doesn’t feel scared. This is only Roland’s house. The baddies were all in Berlin about an hour and a half ago; there is no way they’ll get to here in that time. Wherever here is.
‘Where are we?’ he asks Miri.
‘Roland’s house,’ she replies, giving him a blank look.
‘No, I mean what country?’
‘I told you. England. Hampshire.’
‘Ah, right, yes, you did say that,’ he says amiably as Safa groans that her side is clear.
‘What?’ Ben asks at the sound of dismay. He walks out of the bedroom to look down a wide corridor. First or second floor, judging by the view from the windows. Doors on both sides. Everything quiet.
‘It’s bloody huge,’ Safa says.
‘Yeah,’ Ben says. ‘Nice house.’
‘I mean, it will take ages to clear.’
‘Clear?’ Ben looks around, then over at the big windows and the view of the gorgeous grounds outside. A summer’s day. All pretty and picturesque. Like something from a postcard. Willow trees and manicured lawns. He leans over a little to catch sight of what looks like a pond or a water feature further down in the grounds. ‘It’s daytime,’ he adds.
‘And?’ she asks.
‘Well, it’s a big house, but it’s still a house. Bedrooms at the top and the living rooms on the ground floor . . . which is where most people tend to be in the daytime, and if the son is an inventor, then he’ll probably have an outbuilding or a garage, I would have thought.’
‘Oh,’ Safa says, staring with drug-induced fascination at the way his lips move and the sparkle back in his eyes. She takes in the scar on his face and how different he looks now after the decline he suffered over the last few months.
‘Safa?’
‘Huh?’ Safa asks, blinking at Ben. ‘Yep, downstairs then. Harry, where are the stairs?’
‘Er, right there,’ Ben says, pointing to the top of the stairs a few metres away.
‘Yep, good . . . er . . . Harry? Seen any other stairs?’
‘Aye, when you’ve been in a war with stairs.’
‘Shush,’ Safa whisper-shouts, blinking at Ben’s scar.
‘Need to move,’ Miri says bluntly.