Whack! A fist slams into his face.
‘Where is she?!’
Judd throws another punch, hits Thompkins in the jaw, stuns him. He stumbles backwards, falls into his chute.
‘Where is she?!’ Judd drops onto him, pins him to the ground with knees on his chest, clamps both hands around his neck.
Thompkins gasps for breath. ‘Where’s who?’
‘Rhonda!’ Judd vibrates with anger. ‘Is she on board Atlantis?’
‘I don’t know what you’re —’
‘Tell me!’ Judd squeezes harder.
‘— talking about —’
Judd loosens his grip. If he kills him he has nothing. No information, no options, nothing.
Thompkins drives a knee upwards, knocks Judd aside, reaches inside his flight-suit pocket, grabs a Glock pistol, points the weapon —
It’s wrenched from his hand. He looks up through the swirling dust, focuses on his assailant.
It’s Judd Bell. Thompkins is genuinely shocked he’s alive. Instantly he has second thoughts about sending him out here, though he’s not sure what else he could’ve done. During the launch Judd had seen both Dirk and Henri’s faces. Thompkins couldn’t have him reporting that information to the authorities so he sent him directly to the Northern Territory, to be eliminated when he arrived at the Kinabara Dish.
Thompkins plays it straight. ‘Judd? What are you doing?’
‘Wrong answer.’ Judd’s fist shoots out like a piston, cracks Thompkins’ nose.
‘Stop it!’
‘Where is she? Is she alive?!’
‘I’m on your side.’
‘Liar. You sent the marines to Tunisia.’
Thompkins is, once again, shocked. How does he know this? Judd drives the pistol under his chin.
‘I’m just here to help.’
‘Bullshit.’
A noise. They turn, see a black chopper skim the desert towards them.
‘They coming to get you?’
Thompkins plays dumb. ‘Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about —’
‘Get up!’ Judd drags Thompkins to his feet, the pistol pushed against his chest.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m gonna trade your sorry arse.’
The Tiger chunters towards the two men standing in the middle of the desert. One is Thompkins, Dirk knows that. He saw him eject, saw the parachute open, saw him land. The other guy is a bit of a mystery. Then he looks closer and realises it’s no mystery at all.
Dirk couldn’t be happier. After days spent trying to kill the astronaut, Judd Bell has come to him.
‘What are we doing?’ Big Bird’s voice buzzes in Dirk’s headset.
‘Put it down, fifty meters away.’
The Tiger settles onto the desert in a swirl of dust. Dirk draws his pistol, cracks open the cockpit and climbs down. Buffeted by rotor wash, he approaches Thompkins and Judd Bell, stops 20 metres away.
‘Are they alive?’ The astronaut shouts over the rasp of the Tiger’s turbine.
‘Who?’
‘The women.’
‘Ms Jacolby is safely strapped into the shuttle as we speak. Ms Burnett is in the Galaxy.’
Judd points the pistol at Thompkins’ neck. ‘You want this guy alive then you release them both, now.’
‘I don’t think Ms Burnett would like that. She’s with us, and has been for a number of years.’
Judd recoils. ‘Bullshit.’
‘It’s true. As for Ms Jacolby, I’m afraid we can’t spare her. She still has an important role to play.’
‘Hand them over or he dies.’
Dirk waves his pistol at Thompkins. ‘You seem to be under the impression that his death would somehow concern me.’ Dirk’s eyes move to Thompkins. ‘How did you get yourself into this situation?’
‘Do it. It’s an easy trade.’ Thompkins’ voice is edged with panic.
Judd pushes the gun hard into his neck. ‘Don’t know what I’m talking about, huh?’
Thompkins ignores him. ‘Come on, I did everything for you people. Let me talk to Henri.’
‘He is no longer in charge.’
Thompkins frowns. ‘What? Then who is?’
Dirk grins. ‘Me.’ His eyes fall on the astronaut. ‘While I consider your offer, Mr Bell, I must know one thing. Have you told anyone about me?’
Judd’s surprised by the question, then nods at Thompkins. ‘Only this prick.’
‘Thank you.’ Fast and smooth, Dirk raises his pistol and fires the way professional soldiers do. The bullet slams into Thompkins’ forehead; his head snaps back and he crumples to the desert.
Judd swings his weapon at Dirk but he’s not a professional and the German has already aimed and fired. The bullet thumps into the astronaut’s chest and he drops to the dust.
Dirk pivots, strides back to the waiting Tiger. He’s pleased Judd Bell is dead but not sure if he was telling the truth. The German will just have to wait and see if Thompkins is the only person he told about his past. It’s not ideal but then Dirk knows it’s no one’s fault but his own. He pulls the walkie from his belt, speaks into it: ‘Nico, get the Galaxy airborne.’
The Italian’s voice crackles in response: ‘Roger that. What about Thompkins?’
‘He won’t be making the trip.’
Yes, Thompkins had proved useful for the years he’d been on the payroll, had been instrumental in helping enlist the all-important Martie Burnett and giving them access to information regarding the shuttle’s systems, but now the crew is under new management and those days are over. Just as Thompkins had been disloyal to NASA, he would eventually be disloyal to Dirk so he could never become part of the crew, and if he wasn’t part of the crew he couldn’t be out in the world knowing what he knew. So he had to go, as would Martie Burnett and Kelvin Atwater once the mission was complete.
Dirk climbs into the Tiger, pulls on his Top Hawk helmet and barks into its headset’s microphone. ‘Let’s go.’
42
It hurts like a motherfucker and he couldn’t be happier about that. If he’s feeling pain then he’s alive.
Judd forces his eyes open. The sunlight dazzles him. Yep, still alive. He blinks, reaches his right hand to the profound pain at the left side of his chest, finds the bullet’s entry wound, to the left and down from his nipple. He’s certain the slug has cracked a rib but it doesn’t seem to have punctured a lung because he can breathe okay. He moves his hand to his side and finds the exit wound under his arm. He’s one lucky son of a bitch. Yes, he’s been shot, but it’s a ‘through and through’ that doesn’t seem to have hit any major organs; essentially it’s a flesh wound with delusions of grandeur.
He feels moisture at his back. He shifts, sees the large, dark puddle in the sand beneath him. Suddenly he doesn’t feel lucky at all. He’s lost a lot of blood and is still losing it. His shirt is drenched and his head feels light. He breathes in, wills the dizziness to pass.
The whine of turbofans sweeps across the desert. His eyes move, focus, find the Galaxy with Atlantis on its back. It’s taxiing, a good kilometre away. Tango in Berlin’s black chopper hovers behind it.
Judd looks back at the wound. He needs to get steely-eyed and quickly solve this life-or-death problem before he bleeds out. Instinctively he knows what the ingenious solution is: he saw it in a movie years ago, Rambo III, when Sylvester Stallone was the biggest movie star in the world.
Judd pushes his hand into his shirt pocket, pulls out the Marlboro soft pack. He upends the pack and the zippo and cigarette drop onto his chest. He brushes the cigarette away, knowing that if he survives this he has given up smoking. If the last couple of days have taught him anything it’s that there are altogether too many other ways to die prematurely so he must eliminate one, even if he will always miss those seven seconds.