levers. He pulled them. Marion aimed the gun again. But she was too late. The next moment there was a rush and a gurgle as two hundred gallons of bright red vanishing cream shot out of a pipe and crashed down onto the unfortunate woman.
Marion Thorn vanished.
Tad looked back. The door burst open and two more security guards appeared, both of them armed. Grateful now for the speed and agility he must have inherited from Bob Snarby, Tad twisted around and ran. There was an explosion and a bullet whistled past, smashing into a pipe close to Tad’s head. A thin spray of pink ooze jetted into the air. Tad ran forward, vanishing cream licking at his ankles, and threw himself through the door.
And he was out! The cold night air embraced him and he ran into it with a sense of exhilaration. Quickly he took in the low redbrick buildings that made up the compound and the tall wire fence that surrounded it. Already an alarm had begun to let out its unnatural wail, and at the same time brilliant spotlights suddenly sliced through the darkness, huge white circles gliding across the asphalt.
Tad ran on, but with every step he found himself slowing down, realizing the hopelessness of his situation. There was no way out of the Center. The gate was too heavily guarded. The fence was unclimbable. And everywhere he looked there were more security guards, some on foot, some on motorbikes, making sure every square inch of the compound was covered.
“Security alert! Security alert!” The inhuman voice rang out across the rooftops. Tad stumbled and came to a breathless halt.
On the other side of the fence he could see houses. In the distance there was a pub. He almost wanted to cry. The real world, ordinary people doing ordinary things, were only a few yards away. But he couldn’t reach them. He would never see them again. There was no way out.
“There he is!”
It was a man’s voice, coming from just behind him. To one side a Jeep suddenly sprang forward, its headlights slanting down. Tad stood where he was. There was nothing more he could do.
And then it happened. At the last minute, just when he thought it was all over, there was the blare of a horn and a London taxi appeared out of nowhere, accelerating toward the fence. Tad watched as it burst through, snapping the wire, and hurtled toward him. Meanwhile the Jeep had also accelerated and suddenly the two vehicles were heading straight for each other in what had to be a head-on collision. It was the driver of the Jeep who lost his nerve. With mere inches to spare, he wrenched the wheel. The Jeep swerved, crashed into a building and disappeared in a pillar of flame. The taxi screeched to a halt in front of Tad and the back door opened.
“Get in!” a voice commanded.
Tad hesitated. But then there was a gunshot and a bullet hammered into the taxi’s chassis, and without any further prompting, Tad dived forward. His head and arms passed through the open door and he was full length on the back floor and the voice was yelling, “Go! Go! Go!” The taxi leaped forward again, made a complete circle and shot through the hole in the fence. There were more shots. The back window shattered and fell inward, covering Tad with glass. The driver cursed as the taxi mounted the pavement then rocketed into the road. But they were away! Around one corner and through a set of red traffic lights and they had left the Center far behind.
Tad lay where he was, stretched out on the floor. He was bruised and exhausted and there was glass in his hair and all over his clothes. But he was safe.
“All right. You can sit up now.”
Tad recognized the voice and felt the hairs on his neck prickle. A hand reached down and dragged him into the seat. Tad slumped back, the last of his strength draining out of him.
“Good evening, Bobby-boy,” Finn said. “What a surprise—eh! We been looking all over for you.”
GREAT YARMOUTH
Aren’t you pleased to see me?” Finn demanded.
“And me!” The driver
Marion Thorn vanished.
Tad looked back. The door burst open and two more security guards appeared, both of them armed. Grateful now for the speed and agility he must have inherited from Bob Snarby, Tad twisted around and ran. There was an explosion and a bullet whistled past, smashing into a pipe close to Tad’s head. A thin spray of pink ooze jetted into the air. Tad ran forward, vanishing cream licking at his ankles, and threw himself through the door.
And he was out! The cold night air embraced him and he ran into it with a sense of exhilaration. Quickly he took in the low redbrick buildings that made up the compound and the tall wire fence that surrounded it. Already an alarm had begun to let out its unnatural wail, and at the same time brilliant spotlights suddenly sliced through the darkness, huge white circles gliding across the asphalt.
Tad ran on, but with every step he found himself slowing down, realizing the hopelessness of his situation. There was no way out of the Center. The gate was too heavily guarded. The fence was unclimbable. And everywhere he looked there were more security guards, some on foot, some on motorbikes, making sure every square inch of the compound was covered.
“Security alert! Security alert!” The inhuman voice rang out across the rooftops. Tad stumbled and came to a breathless halt.
On the other side of the fence he could see houses. In the distance there was a pub. He almost wanted to cry. The real world, ordinary people doing ordinary things, were only a few yards away. But he couldn’t reach them. He would never see them again. There was no way out.
“There he is!”
It was a man’s voice, coming from just behind him. To one side a Jeep suddenly sprang forward, its headlights slanting down. Tad stood where he was. There was nothing more he could do.
And then it happened. At the last minute, just when he thought it was all over, there was the blare of a horn and a London taxi appeared out of nowhere, accelerating toward the fence. Tad watched as it burst through, snapping the wire, and hurtled toward him. Meanwhile the Jeep had also accelerated and suddenly the two vehicles were heading straight for each other in what had to be a head-on collision. It was the driver of the Jeep who lost his nerve. With mere inches to spare, he wrenched the wheel. The Jeep swerved, crashed into a building and disappeared in a pillar of flame. The taxi screeched to a halt in front of Tad and the back door opened.
“Get in!” a voice commanded.
Tad hesitated. But then there was a gunshot and a bullet hammered into the taxi’s chassis, and without any further prompting, Tad dived forward. His head and arms passed through the open door and he was full length on the back floor and the voice was yelling, “Go! Go! Go!” The taxi leaped forward again, made a complete circle and shot through the hole in the fence. There were more shots. The back window shattered and fell inward, covering Tad with glass. The driver cursed as the taxi mounted the pavement then rocketed into the road. But they were away! Around one corner and through a set of red traffic lights and they had left the Center far behind.
Tad lay where he was, stretched out on the floor. He was bruised and exhausted and there was glass in his hair and all over his clothes. But he was safe.
“All right. You can sit up now.”
Tad recognized the voice and felt the hairs on his neck prickle. A hand reached down and dragged him into the seat. Tad slumped back, the last of his strength draining out of him.
“Good evening, Bobby-boy,” Finn said. “What a surprise—eh! We been looking all over for you.”
GREAT YARMOUTH
Aren’t you pleased to see me?” Finn demanded.
“And me!” The driver
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