Helix Nexus, Chris Lofts [best android ereader .txt] 📗

roar was reminiscent of airborne deployment from a military transport: a transition from humming tranquillity to roaring wind-whipped chaos as the load ramp yawned open, framing a lightless chasm into which everything was sucked. Pausing next to the fallen officer, Helix maintained his aim. Sweeping the shadows and recesses of the room, the once-comfortable sitting room rendered in his vision in shades of ghostly white and green. The headless corpse of Monty, Yawlander’s beloved golden retriever, lay in the middle of the room. Regulating his breathing, He stepped over the dog and deeper into the apartment. The rain-laden air snatched at the blinds through the shattered edges of the triple glazed window. A second officer lay next to the splintered remains of a small table, a lamp shattered on the floor beside it.

‘Sitting room clear,’ he reported over the thought comms despite knowing Ethan would be following his every move. He paused at the archway separating the sitting room from the kitchen. No further human casualties. Tiny silver bodies lay on the black granite floor beneath the shattered remains of the tropical fish tank set into the wall. Rommel, Yawlander’s Persian blue cat, lay skewered with a broad-bladed knife to a wooden chopping board on the kitchen counter. ‘It’s a fucking massacre. Kitchen clear. Moving to bedroom.’

To the left of the door, his back to the wall, he pressed the bedroom door handle. The door swung inwards. The room was undisturbed. The bed made. A military history book on the side table with a pair of reading glasses. Helix deployed two spherical HD nano-cams from a panel in his right boot. Their view of the underneath and sides of the bed materialised in his right eye. Clear. He stepped inside and waited while one cam entered the walk-in wardrobe and the other the adjoining ensuite bathroom. ‘All clear.’

Spinning towards the sound of urgent footsteps from the hallway, he recognised the uniform and insignia of the medical detail. ‘All clear,’ he called. He looked up at the dormant LED lights set into the ceiling. ‘Lights on,’ he instructed. Nothing. If Helix was old-school in his choice of weapons, Yawlander was prehistoric when it came to technology. He located a switch next to the main door. The room filled with light revealing the full extent of the struggle that had taken place.

‘Jesus!’ Ethan whistled in Helix’s ear.

‘Just given me a couple of minutes, Ethan. I need to think.’

Helix took time to scan each corner of the room, focusing on any detail that might provide clues. Ethan would follow and record everything via the real-time HD feed from his brother’s right eye. Yawlander hadn’t gone down without a fight. Shattered glass, overturned and broken furniture, littered the room. His side-arm lay on the small table next to the entrance door, beneath the hooks holding his cap and the leads for his dog and cat.

The four-man medical team divided into two pairs. The status of each casualty was established, followed by silent shakes of the head towards each other. They collected their medical bags and filed out of the door.

Helix pivoted towards the shattered window swinging his P226 up at the sound. A drone hovered outside, its rotors buzzing in the wind as it fought to maintain its position. Helix blinked as the machine identified him with its broad fans of red laser light. ‘Major Nathan Helix,’ he barked. It was always better to give a verbal confirmation. They’d been known to shoot first and ask questions afterwards.

The drone dipped through the window, landed on the floor and began deploying its scan-orbs and crime scene collection bots.

Helix holstered his P226. ‘Have you requested a full forensics team, Ethan?’

‘On their way. ETA 30 minutes.’

A heavy, blue-covered book lay open on the floor next to Yawlander’s reading chair. It was one of the many first editions that packed the old oak bookcase. The pages of The World Crisis 1915, by Winston S. Churchill, flapped in the wind, drawn towards the gaping hole in the panoramic window that framed the cloudy night sky. It was impossible to tell from the middle of the room that 500 hundred metres below lay the beating heart of London.

He crouched next to the chair. A gold-framed photograph lay underneath. The face of Yawlander’s daughter, Lauren, smiled behind an angry crack in the glass. He left it where it was, not wanting to compromise any forensic evidence. The promise he’d made to the child’s late mother tugged at his heart. How much more loss could an eight-year-old endure?

A faint beep in his ear drew his attention. He folded back the flap in his jacket sleeve covering the graphene communications screen. He tapped, accepting the inbound call. ‘Helix.’

‘Good evening, Major. Julia Ormandy—’

‘Home Secretary.’

‘Your initial thoughts?’

‘About?’

The Home Secretary’s sigh conveyed her impatience. ‘Well, given your precise location and the fact that General Yawlander has just plummeted hundreds of metres to his death, I was hoping you might give me an update.’

Helix ground his teeth. Ornery Ormandy, as she was known by some, held two cabinet positions. He was ambivalent about politics and didn’t understand why they hadn’t abolished her secondary position as Secretary of State for Defence after the police and military had merged.

‘It’s early days, ma’am. We have—’

‘In my office. I’ll expect you in five minutes.’

Helix stared at the Call Ended notification on the screen.

‘What’s your take, Ethan?’

‘Not much better than yours. What the fuck does she expect? It’s been less than 15 minutes. We’ve got the thick end of fuck all at the moment.’

Helix grinned. Ethan’s expression could be translated as ‘absolutely nothing’. Its opposite was ‘the thin end of fuck all’ which could, depending on his brother’s mood, mean something, but still not much. ‘It’ll be a short meeting then,’ he said, turning towards the door. ‘I’m going to seal the apartment. Get the forensics team to contact me as soon as they arrive. At least that’ll give me an out if she’s still revelling in the sound of her