At that moment, two shapes dropped from beneath the car, wriggled forward, and disappeared beneath the cleaning van. Then the old man reached the end of the crossing and waved his thanks to the van driver, who nodded and put his vehicle into drive.
The van pulled away, followed a second later by the blue car. At the next junction, the car turned into a side street and was gone, leaving the van to continue slowly forward. Soon it drew up before the heavy metal doors of a service entrance leading to the Barbican Estate. The doors rattled aside, and the van drove into a covered entrance bay, echoing with engine sounds bouncing back from concrete. Then the doors clanged back into place, followed by the dull thudding counterpoint of mag locks ramming home.
Vibration and soot, the tremor in his eyeballs making it hard to see, and the cloud of carcinogenic crap turning his respiration into wheezing, the underneath of the van pressed against his face, hard and caked with grime and oil, all of it unpleasant, his thoughts slow and difficult. The webbing harness bit into Josh's body everywhere, pinching his inner thighs, constricting his balls into aching compression, dug into his back below his shoulder blades, and bounced him against hard metal with every unevenness in the road.
Poor Suzanne must be having a hard time of it. For him, this was business as usual. He twisted, careful not to let a jolt damage his neck, and squinted at Suzanne. She was clinging, knuckles pale, using all her strength to assist the harness. They had planned this so they would be under the van only during the last part of its journey, when it was moving slowly; but for her this was probably a high-speed ride more dangerous than she had ever attempted.
"Scan coming up." Tony's voice sounded in his earbead. "And you're over it."
In the old days, guards used mirrors on castors, pushed on long poles, to check underneath vehicles. Thank God for modern systems, relying on cameras and intelligent software, just waiting to be subverted by those with the right technology and attitude.
The van rolled to a halt beside a loading platform, the engine whining down to stillness, the suspension rocking. After a moment, the guys inside dismounted.
"Check-in with security is through there, right?"
"Yeah. Bring the gear, it'll save time."
"OK."
Thumps and swearing meant they were unloading their cleaning equipment. Loud trundling accompanied their exit from the loading area, ending with the dull bang of a heavy steel door. Then silence.
Webbing dug into Josh's back and hamstrings as he hung there.
"Get ready," came Tony's voice.
Josh looked over at Suzanne. Her mouth was tight with strain as she nodded.
"Release in five seconds, four, three, two, one, go now."
Gekkofastenings tore free, and Josh and Suzanne dropped to the ground. They rolled sideways as if spilled from a carpet, the loading bay a blur of oil-stained concrete and corrugated roofing. Then he thumped against brickwork, and Suzanne rolled into him.
"Internal bay is clear. Go for next stage."
The spycams around the loading bay would be transmitting an ongoing still image.
Josh vaulted up onto the high platform, crouched into a squat, and hauled Suzanne up. Then they flung themselves either side of a utility doorway, not the one the cleaners had left by. In the centre of the door was a pane of armoured glass, revealing distorted outlines of blazerclad men moving on the other side. From that glimpse, it appeared they were walking and looking, a roving patrol. With luck, they would rove off out of here.
"Hold position."
Suzanne was swallowing. Josh gave her a wink.
"Move in three, two, one, go now."
The door clicked open – Tony's handiwork, conducted remotely – and they went through. The security personnel were gone.
"Third door on the right."
Josh gave a tongue-click acknowledgment, then nodded to Suzanne and led the way, half jogging to the target doorway. His boot soles were rubber, therefore silent, as were Suzanne's.
"Clear to go through."
Suzanne was staring at him, eyes huge. It took a moment, then he realised: a hunter's fang-revealing grin was stretching his mouth.
"Go now."
Filled with electric aliveness, he went through, every action magnified and excited by surrounding danger, like a stage performer thrilled by the onset of showtime, coming fully into his own. His movements were exact, exquisitely controlled, because these were the conditions he had learned to operate under, against role-playing opponents using live ammunition and out in the field, against real and lethal threats; and that made all the difference.
This was home, where he did more than operate: he came alive.
On the edge.
Ten minutes later, they were just inside a door that opened onto a quadrangle. Once through the threshold, they would move into the domain of another tier of the surveillance system, where security personnel wandered in greater numbers. At this point, it was no longer possible for Tony to edit over the images. Deep inside the system, the software observer-components were subverted, failing to report on two individuals whose gaits and features had not been logged on entering the estate. But for human security staff watching monitors, there was no way of hiding Josh and Suzanne. It was time to move openly.
From their pockets, they pulled out squares of lightweight fabric that unfolded parachute-like into bright, billowing jackets: his, fluorescent orange and silvery grey; hers a blazing lime-green. Suzanne wrinkled her nose. At the training house, she had made remarks about how ugly it looked, how it made her appear fat.
Josh blew her a kiss.
She gave a sick attempt at a smile, then pulled out a silver cylinder from her pocket. A twist of her wrist, and it blossomed into a heart-shaped helium balloon, floating upward on string until it bounced against the ceiling. Tugging it down, she nodded to Josh.
Josh triple-clicked his tongue, signalling Tony.
"Raj, ready for your big fight scene, and… do it now."
In the earbead, there was a muted, distant sound of shattering bottles and hostile shouts. Suzanne swallowed.
"Go now."
They slipped through.
Josh pulled a big smile, a deliberate tensing of facial muscles, nothing amused about it. Taking hold of Suzanne's free hand, he walked forward with her, while she let the balloon rise a little on its string, bobbing as they progressed.
"Natural looking. Very nice," came Tony's voice. "Ready in five paces, Suzanne."
As they walked, water was to their left, where one of the towers stood partly on wide brick-covered pillars acting as stilts, the building's underside forming a watery cavern lit by rippling reflections. Only one spycam was trained directly on them, and the timing needed to be exact. Suzanne's hand felt sweat-slick in his. He gave her a squeeze, then released her.
"Ready to let go, two, one, go now."
Suzanne's fingers opened and the balloon rose, just as Josh tore open his loose jacket, ripped a package from the small of his back and tossed it into the water. There was a plop, an attenuated ripple, and it sank from sight. They walked on.
The main security sweep had been yesterday. As the protection teams tightened up the system, they had scoured everywhere, including underwater. Secondary sweeps would follow, but they would focus on telltales of weapon technology, the spectroscopic signatures of airborne and waterborne molecules that might indicate explosives, the inductive resonance of electronic devices. Even if they found the thing, they would consider it an oddity, perhaps from a party balloon similar to the one Suzanne had just let loose.