Jimmy Coates: Power
Joe Craig
The country is under attack, but the people don’t know the truth. Is Jimmy too late to save even himself?
To Mary-Ann Ochota, always.
Table of Contents
24 THE LAIR OF THE RIVER SPIDER
“This is Jimmy Coates…”
The boy paused and stared harder into the lens of the tiny camera attached to the top of the computer monitor. His eyes didn’t flicker. “I mean, I am Jimmy Coates.” He could hear his voice trembling, but he knew he had to go on. He had to get his message out—tell his story. Tell people the truth.
“This is going to sound like the craziest—” He cut himself short, startled by a noise behind him. He looked round. The glow from the lamp-post outside filtered through the slats of the Venetian blinds and the rain on the windows, lighting the small second-floor office in disfigured orange lines, like diseased skin. Nothing had changed.
He glanced again at the infrared detector in the corner of the ceiling. He knew it wouldn’t be flashing. Only minutes earlier he’d disabled the office’s alarm system. But if anybody passed by the building they might notice the gleam from the computer screen. If they investigated any further and saw Jimmy’s makeshift rewiring of the entry system at the door, they’d certainly call the police. There wasn’t meant to be anybody in the office of the Hailsham Gazette this late at night.
“I know I look like a normal boy,” Jimmy went on, trying to steady his breathing so he could get the words out. “I’m twelve. But…” Again he stopped himself. His mouth wouldn’t form the words. They raced through his head, but he couldn’t force them out. He wanted to scream everything at once: I’m the perfect assassin. They made me that way. They designed my DNA in a test tube…
At the same time he knew that some parts of the truth were better left out. Nobody would believe him, and if they did, they’d be terrified instead of listening to what he had to say.
Jimmy forced himself to concentrate and adjusted the direction of the webcam, making sure his face was clear on the monitor. It was so strange seeing himself like this. His features didn’t look like his own. His cheeks were thinner and his eyes looked grey.
But in front of him on the desk was something that strengthened his resolve. It was the latest edition of the Gazette. The headline leapt out: BRAVE BRITAIN TO HIT BACK AFTER FRENCH ATTACK OUR OIL RIG.
“The Government is lying,” continued Jimmy. “The French didn’t attack the oil rig. They’re just telling everybody that, and like always they’re controlling the newspapers and TV and the Internet…” Jimmy half-scrunched the newspaper in frustration. “But now they should know it isn’t true. I’m the proof. I blew it up—by accident.” His words rushed out in a torrent. “Everybody has to know. If the Government carries on with plans for war, everyone needs to know their reasons for it are a lie. People will die for nothing.”
He stopped and took a deep breath. It felt like there was so much more to say, but before he could go on, he saw a reflection in the screen. A blue flash. He’d stayed too long. The police were coming.
“Spread this message,” he insisted into the webcam. “And protest every way you can. I know you can’t vote,