Number Three was going stir crazy. Stuck in bed while they made decisions about him that he couldn’t hear or argue with. Not that he could have heard them if he’d been in the room but that wouldn’t have stopped him from arguing.

If he couldn’t be out in the world kicking arse and taking names then he wanted to be with his friends. If that was the right word for Five and Six. But one of the ‘benefits’ of SIS’s high security medical unit was the private rooms.

The staff had refused to tell him how Five and Six were doing. Every time he asked the nurses they all broke out identical professionally neutral faces and said 'I’m sorry sir but I can’t tell you anything.' They must be cloning them somewhere. A few of them had blushed when he asked about Six which tended to suggest that Six was not only alive but actively flirting with everyone.

There was nothing to do but worry about Five, brood about One and Two and stare at the raven that kept him company on the branch right outside his window. He assumed it was the same raven. It would stare at him for a bit, fly away, come back a few minutes later and then stare some more. Maybe it wasn’t the same bird at all. Perhaps every carrion bird in London had heard he was injured and they were all coming over, one by one, to check him out and see if he had stopped moving yet.

Time to bust out. Officially he had a back injury but it couldn’t be all that bad because he could still feel his feet and they hadn’t strapped him to the bed. It must be a lie to keep him from doing what he was about to do.

Perhaps they didn’t know that he’d recovered from real back injuries twice now and he knew the real procedure. They probably don’t strap spinal injury patients to the bed in regular hospitals but the Service had to. You didn’t get to be a Blank unless you literally did not know when to stay down.

The staff were slipping. Having three blanks in the unit at once must be distracting them. Particularly if Six was up to his usual bullshit. Six had to be the most competitive man that Three had ever met and he seemed to regard Seven’s reputation as a seducer as a personal challenge. Finding out that Number One had shagged everyone was bound to make him act out.

Whatever the reason for the uncharacteristic lapse someone had left a wheelchair in the room with him. It was a good eight feet from the bed. Getting to it was going to be tricky.

Number Three sat up and then wriggled up the bed. He swung his legs down, one at a time. Every movement sent blinding pain signals up his spine. His entire body was trying to tell him that this was a bad idea. Fuck. That. Shit. They might be a team but his body was not the boss of him. He got both feet on the ground but he had to stop for a rest.

He waited, perched on the edge of the bed, for the pain to recede. Next to the bed was a largely pointless cabinet. In an NHS hospital it would have held his personal effects but here it was just so much set dressing. The staff were not stupid enough to leave a Blank with access to anything that might help him get out before it was time. It was also just the right height for leaning on if you were six foot five. How convenient.

He rocked forward onto his feet and braced for the explosion of pain that was bound to follow. He’d been prepared for the possibility that he might have to sit right back down. Either that or that his legs might crumple under him and he’d hit the floor in an embarrassing tangle of IV line and gape-backed hospital gown and lie there till one of the clone nurses found him. He was relieved when his body only swayed slightly. He clung to the top of the cabinet but he remained upright.

He inched around the cabinet till he reached the wall. Just like an NHS hospital there was a safety rail fixed to the wall just above waist height. Waist height on an average person. It was too low for him but if he splayed his legs, bent at the knee and slouched he could just lean on it. He inched around the room to the door.

Now the tough bit. He had to get the dressing gown off the hook on the back of the door without landing on his arse.

He lurched towards the door and grabbed the handle with his right hand. Before his body had the chance to complain too much about the sudden movement he stuck his left arm inside the dressing gown. In one movement he got his left arm into the appropriate sleeve and hitched the gown off the hook.

The pain shot up his left arm and down his left leg at the same time. Some part of his back really didn’t like that movement. He froze until his breathing returned to normal and the pain had subsided a bit.

He swapped hands on the door handle. He reached behind his neck and hooked the collar of the dressing gown with one finger and flicked it over his right shoulder. He grabbed the front of it with his right hand and held it there. He needed to get his right arm into the dressing gown but that could wait until he was sitting down.

He shuffled along the wall until he got to the wheelchair. He couldn’t get into it yet because the brakes were off. If he tried to sit down it would roll away. He nudged it and it rolled back. Using tiny shuffling steps and gentle nudges he managed to get the chair back into the corner. Once he had it pinned he turned around and half fell into it.

Now that he was sitting down the temptation to just stay there was almost overwhelming. He was bone tired and the pain filled his brain and wouldn’t let him think. He shrugged his right arm into the sleeve of the dressing gown by persuading himself that it was just to keep his arm warm. He definitely wasn’t planning on going anywhere. But once he was respectably covered and he had both feet on the footrests and the brakes were already off it seemed a shame not to make a break for it.

#

Number Seven drove west. For the first time in two days he felt comfortable. At home behind the wheel. He could have driven to the secure medical unit in his sleep. He hated the place but it was etched into his memory.

Number Four sat next to him glaring out of the passenger window as if she had a personal grudge against the London streets. She was easily the most talkative of the Blanks. The silence worried him.

'The brooding stare out of the window is my thing,' said Seven. 'I’m going to have to ask you to try something else.'

He kept his eyes on the road but he sensed the movement of her head and when she spoke he could hear a smile in her voice.

'You’re busy driving. I’m brooding for two,' she said.

'About the Department specifically or just that the Boss is calling in outsiders?' he said.

'I’ve never worked with them but Nancy has. He won’t say much but they don’t sound very reliable.' Her voice sounded strained to him as if she were taking unusual care over each word. He couldn’t tell if she were suppressing tears, or anger or if she just didn’t believe what she was saying.

'How’s your ears?' she said. So whatever the problem was, she didn’t want to talk about it.

'Held together with super glue. How’s yours?' he said.

'They’re ok. I mean they’ve recovered as much as they’re going to. Another few blasts like that and I’ll be as deaf as you are. When I signed on you warned me about the dangers of premature death, and moral decay, and STDs, and the constant grind of seducing absolute arseholes but you never told me I had to worry about going deaf.'

'I’m not deaf,' he said.

'You’re wearing hearing aids, old man.'

'Brace yourself.' They passed the sign for the Huntsmoor Park Clinic, the cover name for the medical facility, and he suppressed a shudder.

'This fucking place,' said Four.

From the outside it was an expensive private hospital specialising in plastic surgery. Too much security attracts unwanted attention unless everyone thinks the security is there to prevent despots, billionaires and foreign royals from being disturbed while they recover from their face lifts, hair implants and penis enlargements.

The foyer of the building looked exactly like the entrance of the expensive private hospital it pretended to be. Only the security officers in their smart grey suits gave it away and only then if you knew to look for the tell-tale bulge at the left armpit.

The reception desk was a trap for the unwary. Seven went straight to the nearest grey suit and flashed his ID. The man tried hard not to look impressed at the Xs where a name should be and the small number 7 in the bottom corner. When Four flashed hers Seven could see him fighting the urge to question her right to the ID and ask if her Mum knew she was out.

The man stalled, mouth agape, clearly forgetting what he was supposed to be doing.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

'Oh just get the door open,' said Number Four.

This grey suit nodded to another, larger, one standing by an unmarked door. He unlocked the door with a key then swiped a card through a security reader and the door popped open.

Beyond the door was a short corridor leading to a desk staffed not by a nurse or a receptionist but another grey suit, this one female.

Number Four led the way. She flashed her ID and her sweetest smile and said, 'We’re here to see Numbers Three, Five and Six but in no particular order.'

The woman in the grey suit frowned and looked down at her desk. That was the ‘I wasn’t informed of this’ look. Four glanced up at Seven and he caught her expression. They both knew the look. They also both knew that their jobs were mostly about doing the things that other people hadn’t been informed of.

The grey suit must know that too. Seven could see the internal debate going on. She must know that there was no way she could stop two Blank officers from going anywhere they wanted to go. She had to know that all she could do was slow them down and if she did that all she’d really done was piss them off. When Blanks got pissed off people died, buildings exploded and governments fell.

Surely it would be better to send them on their way and immediately boot the information as far up the chain of command as it would go. And then maybe a tea break. A well timed tea break and she might avoid any unpleasant fallout.

The grey suit licked her lips. He must have been right about the tea break. She started to direct them to the lift but Seven stopped her. 'We know where it is. This is not our first time.'

Beyond the desk and down the long corridor at some point they crossed an unseen line and entered the genuine medical territory. The place smelled different and Seven’s gait faltered. Four slowed too.

Seven hated this place. This was the place of forced inaction. This was the place where he had to watch the minutes creep by, tied to the bed by the stately pace at which his body healed and occasionally by actual restraints.

He knew where the others would be. Number Five would be in the high dependency unit. He’d only been there once. That time he faked a heart attack. They’d probably boosted the security since then. Three and Six would be in the high security unit. Both units were on the top floor.

The lift required SIS ID cards before it would move. So did the door that opened onto the stairwell. So did all the fire doors. If you weren’t SIS then you’d better not be there in a fire because you were going to burn.

When the lift doors opened on the third floor they could hear shouting.

'Get back in your room… No. No you can’t… He’s resting… He’s in isolation… Precisely so people like you can’t bother him.' It was a woman’s voice and she was getting increasingly strident. They couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation, just a deep, soft rumbling that must be Number Three.

They followed the sound until they rounded a corner on the way to the HDU and found a large woman with her back to them. She was wearing a white nurse’s uniform with Sergeant stripes on the sleeve. She was blocking Number Three. He was sitting in a wheelchair that was meant for normal sized people and was thus far too small for him.

Four and Seven exchanged a brief look. Number Four raised an eyebrow that Seven took to mean. ‘Well she’s a lady, and a soldier, and those military girls do love you’.

Number Seven tilted his head and shrugged slightly and hoped that Four would understand that he meant ‘yes but if she’s expecting it then it will only make her angrier’. Then he nodded toward Number Three and raised his own eyebrow meaning ‘if he can’t charm her with the whole wounded hero thing then I’ve got no chance’.

Four nodded almost imperceptibly. 'Excuse me, Sergeant, perhaps I can be of assistance,' she said.

The nurse span round looking ready for round two but deflated very slightly when she saw Four. She recovered quickly when she saw Four’s outstretched ID. 'Oh not another one of you people.'

'Now, now, Sergeant. I know he can be a pain in the arse but can you really blame him? He’s worried,' said Four.

The nurse opened her mouth with every sign that she intended to continue the dressing down but then stopped. Seven could see her considering Four’s words. Four had humanised Three in her mind. She’d made him less of an irritation and more of the magnificent force of nature that he was.

'Nevertheless,' the Sergeant said, 'he can’t go swanning around the corridors with a spinal injury. He needs to get back to his own room.'

'We’re here to visit Five and Six. Perhaps I can wheel him over to the HDU with us so he can check on Number Five? Even if it’s only through glass. Then I’ll take him back to his own room and get him into bed while Number Seven here goes to visit Number Six. How’s that?' said Four.

'Are you sure you can manage to get him into bed by yourself?' said the Nurse.

Seven covered his smile and avoided the Nurse’s eyes but he was sure he caught a glimpse of her right eye beginning to twitch as she saw Four’s expression and realised she’d made a terrible error.

Four tapped her ID. 'Do you think they’re handing these things out in Lucky Bags or something? Maybe free with 10 litres of petrol? Bundled with Amazon Prime or something? I must have missed that meeting ‘cause I earned the fucker the hard way.'

The nurse turned pale. 'That way to HDU. You can’t can’t go in but you can see him through the viewing window. Number Six is in room, um, six. It’s that way,' she said, pointing.

'We know the way,' said Number Three.

Four pushed Three down the corridor to the HDU.

'How are you bearing up?' said Seven.

'Speak up, face me or sign,' said Three.

Seven signed the question.

'Oh you know. The usual. I’m half deaf, again. And I can’t believe they’re trying the old ‘you’ve got a spinal injury so you can’t get out of bed’ bollocks,' said Three.

'You’d think they’d have at least glanced at your records,' said Seven, signing as he did.

'His medical records are probably redacted so as to not frighten the livestock. Especially the photographs,' said Four loudly.

The door to the HDU required an SIS ID to open. Number Five was in the only room in use and the door to that room was seriously locked. It required two keys, a retinal scan and an SIS ID from a pre-approved list. The viewing window was laminated glass reinforced with wire.

'Is that to stop us breaking in or him breaking out,' said Four.

Three snorted. 'You didn’t hear? That’s all there to stop Lucky breaking out again,' he said.

Seven ignored him. He was too concerned about Five to object.

Five was in the centre of a mass of equipment. Wires and tubes sprouted from him like Frankenstein’s monster awaiting the lightning bolt. Seven recognised the EEG and ECG machines but not much else. There were two IV stands to push fluids in. There was a bag of a straw coloured fluid that was leaving his body. Seven wasn’t sure if came from a urine catheter or a wound drain.

'How’s the Boss taking it?' said Three.

'Well she barracked Lucky for a bit,' said Four.

'Don’t call me that.'

'That’s just stress relief for her,' said Three.

'She says it’s supernatural and she’s calling in Department Y,' said Seven.

'Shit. She hates working with them,' said Three.

'She’s worked with them before?' said Four.

'She’s worked with everyone before and she hates most of them,' said Seven, 'but I haven’t heard anything about her and the Department. Do you know something I don’t?'

'You remember back in September when they switched on the Large Hadron Collider for testing and then after 9 days they had to switch it off again?' said Three.

'That was you?' said Seven.

'That was nearly the end of the world. There was a church, one of those weird American Evangelical things, that took offence to the search for the God Particle. We got a tip from the Americans that they were on their way to CERN to attack the LHC.

'They were amateurs. No one expected them to get close. I was only there in case they were a distraction, a cover for something else. Turned out it was a cover. The Church was a front for a Satanic Cult. Well I say Cult. It was more of a Demon'

'A demon? Horns and hooves and a pointy tail kind of a demon? How much morphine are they giving you?' said Seven.

'Shut up, Seven. Go on,' said Four.

'I don’t know about horns and hooves. I never got a clear look at it in its true form. When I arrived things were already going worse than expected. The church leader was this weirdly charismatic pastor. He’d already made friends at CERN and wrangled a pass. I arranged for his car to have an explosive accident with him in it. He walked away from that. I thought screw subtlety, got my rifle and shot him in the head on his way into the building. When that didn’t take I called it in.'

'And?' said Four.

'The Department sent some guy with the codename of Justice. Looked like a refugee from the sixties. Dressed in a white Nehru jacket and carried a sword cane.

'We followed the pastor into the LHC building. We didn’t know what he was until he saw the Justice guy. Then he just flat out told us. Laughed. Said we couldn’t stop him, couldn’t bind him, didn’t even have a priest with us. Started taking control of the collider. Told us he was going to open a Hellmouth and end the primacy of man. So I shot him again. Didn’t work. Justice went for him with the sword cane. The Demon laughed at him. Said the weapon couldn’t hurt him. Justice said he wasn’t trying to hurt him just inconvenience him. Slashed at him. Looked like nothing had happened. Then this black tear opened up in the air behind it.'

'In the air?' Seven sounded more sceptical than he intended to.

'In the world, or space time, or reality or whatever science fiction bullshit the explanation was. I don’t remember. I do remember the tentacles that came out of it and grabbed the Demon. That’s when he stopped trying to look human and started with all the hellfire stuff.

'It didn’t do him any good though, he still got dragged into the slit, but the fire damaged the equipment. They tell me they’ll have it up and running in a couple of months.

'When I got back to HQ I got debriefed by the Boss personally. I have never heard her swear so much. She knows the Justice guy and some of it sounded personal. Her exact words about the Department were ‘An entire agency of loose cannons. They make Number Seven look subtle.’ I thought you might like to know that you’re always on her mind.'

'I like to make an impression.'

Three was starting to look drained. His skin was greyish. He looked like a man who’d been blown up just the day before.

'Right. Time to get you back to your room,' said Four.

Seven expected Three to argue but the big man just nodded.

Four turned the wheelchair away from seven and signed, ^See you in room 6^.