Page 140 of Tapeworld Induction

Dylan

Midnight. A red light lit the end of the tunnel illuminating the spartan walls, the roar of spinning blades echoing towards them. A black helicopter awaited them, sleek, built for stealth.

She climbed aboard, the inside all brushed aluminium finishings, various straps and poles hanging from above. Dylan and Isaak were securely strapped into their seat belts. Isaak was carrying the lobster phone inside his side bag.

They’d slip in with the usual night air traffic, Elodie explained. Drones and helicopters were a common sight across the Thames, navigating the city far below zeppelin altitude. The plan was for Isaak and Dylan to get to the warehouse first in the helicopter, while Sacha and Elodie travelled by van, with Talia in tow. A staggered arrival would allow the two of them to investigate the building more discreetly. And Sacha and Elodie would bring Talia inside. It was the only way to save her, since she needed to be physically near them when they found her in the Tapeworld.

The scale of the operation, the technology available to her… Dylan wondered again if Elodie was really working for one of the Kingdoms – whether this one, or a foreign one. But they had no choice but to trust her.

The helicopter lifted slowly into the air, Elodie’s puke-green hair becoming smaller and smaller as Dylan looked down. The pilot was a masked enigma, who didn’t respond to any of their requests for information. As they left behind the busy streets of Shoreditch, their speed made waves in the peaceful river.

The helicopter landed across the Thames on a deserted square a few minutes’ walk from their target. The two of them scrambled out, and the helicopter took off, back to the Royal Car Wash.

“First time in a chopper,” Dylan said, pulling the faux-leather jacket close. The wind was biting.

“I’ve been in one before, for a stunt with the London Lazarus. Not a fan.”

“You don’t like heights?”

“Not when I’m strapped to a VR headset trying to frag Sacha in mid-air.”

She grinned.

They walked the suburban streets towards their destiny. In contrast to the bustle of Shoreditch and London’s beating work centre, this was a quiet former residential area. The buildings capped at two or three stories at most, converted warehouses from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, some in sandstone, some in concrete, many adorned with wooden beams.

The moon shone brightly in the sky.

Dylan’s eyes darted left and right as they walked, looking out for any passersby. But they were in luck. The place was deserted.

After turning a corner, they arrived at the location Elodie’s analysis had pinpointed. The building was the same architectural style as the surrounding ones, but it was more run-down, haphazard graffiti all over its walls.

“Elodie,” Isaak said, speaking through the comms in his ear, “any sightings?”

“Astrid is still at Crypterra HQ, where she’s expected to stay for at least the next few hours. Jewel’s whereabouts are unknown.”

Dylan looked at the warehouse in the distance. “I don’t see anyone. Come on.”

They hopped over overgrown clumps of grass between the cobbles in the road, a slight wobble on Isaak’s side on account of his knee.

“Well, we know it’s not completely abandoned…” he said.

The secluded entryway to the warehouse was covered by a metal shutter, hidden from the moonlight by nearby builds.

Isaak produced a metal canister from his side bag. He knelt down and sprayed a chrome substance onto the lock securing the metal shutter, large enough for a van to drive through. After a few seconds, he kicked the lock and it fell apart.

“Help me with this.”

Kneeling, Dylan grabbed the bottom of the shutter and pulled upward, and it quickly gave way. They ducked under, letting the shutter fall closed behind them.

Inside was a vast space, concrete pillars dotted across the large room.

Isaak pointed. “There on the floor, see?”

“Tracks?”

“No, worse.”

She looked closer. Among the trash and dirt caking the floor, there were dark red stains. Blood. “Fuck.”