The Last Enemy(52)

‘Pull over,’ snapped Guy.

Jake pulled the car to a halt.

‘What now?’ he asked.

‘Swing back and pull up in a sheltered area near one of the buildings,’ ordered Guy. ‘Out of sight of that checkpoint.’

Jake turned the SUV and drove back, heading towards the main gate.

‘There, on the left,’ said Guy.

There was a car park on the left, behind one of the low buildings. Jake turned the SUV into it.

‘OK,’ mused Guy thoughtfully. ‘If they use the fingerprint ID check at that gate, this could be a problem. I should be able to get through there with Level Five clearance, but you definitely won’t.’

‘So I’ll drop you off and wait for you here,’ said Jake.

Guy scowled.

‘If you test my patience with that kind of asinine crack again, Jake, I’ll shoot you without further thought. You are not leaving my sight until all this is over.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘We get out of the car and you get in the boot. There’s a nice little space there under the carpet. I’ll drive us through using your friend’s Level Five pass. Once we’re in, you can get out from the boot. And don’t try shouting out any warnings. Remember, if I don’t make that call, your girlfriend dies.’

‘I remember,’ grunted Jake.

Jake and Guy got out. Jake went to the boot, opened it, and lifted up the carpet. As Guy had said, there was a perfect empty space beneath it. Jake guessed that it had been used before for smuggling things in and out of places: people, contraband.

Jake climbed in and curled himself up into the hole, and Guy pulled the carpet over him, covering him.

‘Remember,’ warned Guy, his voice now muffled by the carpet, ‘no tricks.’

Jake felt the car shudder as the boot slammed shut, then he heard Guy clamber into the driving seat. The car started up, and moved off.

The space was small and cramped. Jake was already feeling pain in his back from where he was bent double to fit into it, but he knew he daren’t make any noises or movements to try and stretch and ease his discomfort.

Would they get through? Would the soldiers on duty believe Guy? Would Guy be able to use Gareth’s finger on the fingerprint ID without his sleight of hand being spotted? How? What if the soldiers on duty got suspicious and made Guy open the boot, and they peeled back the carpet and found Jake?

The thought of all the things that could go wrong made Jake feel sick.

The car stopped and Jake heard one of the soldiers say, ‘We saw you pull up before. What happened to you?’

Jake heard Guy’s voice, cheerful and chatty, friendly as ever, as he said, ‘I had to drop my pal off.’

‘OK,’ grunted the soldier. ‘ID?’

‘Here,’ said Guy.

Jake could imagine him handing over Gareth’s ID card, and the soldier studying it.

‘OK,’ said the soldier. ‘Fingerprint on the glass screen.’

There was silence, and Jake’s heart was in his mouth as he imagined the scene outside the car, as the soldier held out the ID machine to Guy. Guy surely couldn’t produce the remains of a bloody finger and press it against an ID screen in front of the soldier!

There was a heart-stopping pause that seemed to go on for ages. Then Jake heard the sound of machinery activating as the gates opened, and the soldier said, ‘OK. Go through.’

Jake felt the SUV move forward. He heard the gates shut heavily behind them. They travelled for a few moments, and then the car stopped. Jake heard the driver’s door open and close, and then the sound of the boot being opened. The carpet was peeled back, and Jake looked up into Guy’s face.

‘Easier than I thought,’ said Guy, smirking. ‘Your friend’s finger worked a treat.’

As Jake got out of the back of the car, he saw that Guy had parked next to a high-sided van, which kept them out of sight from the security checkpoint gate. They were right beside a door set into the wall of the hangar. Next to the door was an ID scanner, with a slot for the ID card, and another screen for the fingerprint check.

‘How did you do it?’ asked Jake, stunned. ‘You can’t have just pulled a bloody finger out of your pocket!’

‘Credit me with some intelligence!’ snapped Guy irritably. ‘They had one of these mirror pads, like a mobile phone screen. He handed it to me through the car window. I dropped it, accidentally on purpose, into the footwell of the car, and while I was picking it up off the floor, I pressed Mr Findlay-Weston’s finger against the screen. Hey presto! Open sesame!’ He looked up at the massive shape of the hangar and muttered, ‘So far so good, Jake. Right, this is the last stage. Let’s hope our luck continues, because if The Index isn’t in here, things are going to go very bad.’