apologise for the short delay…”
“What are those pictures?” Felix asked, at last looking up from his in-depth study of what was going to be showing on the TV during the flight.
Meanwhile, the captain continued over him: “…We were experiencing minor interference with our computer systems. There must be an electrical storm on the continent. But there’s nothing to worry about…”
“They’re stuck in my head,” Jimmy rasped. His throat was suddenly dry.
“It’s easily fixed,” the captain droned on, “so we’ll make up the time in the air and should be landing at JFK on schedule.”
The flight was turbulent, but nevertheless Jimmy was determined to get some sleep. He wasn’t really tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be happy until he found out whether he was going to dream again. He half expected that he’d imagined the whole thing and convinced himself that these images were inside his head – just like he now doubted whether there really had been two people following them at the airport.
It wasn’t until several hours later, when the stewardess was handing round the immigration cards for US customs, that Jimmy finally dropped off. His card sat on his lap, unnoticed.
Jimmy only woke up when the plane touched the ground at John F Kennedy International Airport, New York City. All the excitement about coming to America was gone. There were just four things in Jimmy’s head: thin horizontal strips in the colours of the rainbow. Splashes of red and yellow against a dirty cream background. A white number 53 on a green background. The letter K, bold and black on a bright white wall.
Jimmy reached for his pens.
CHAPTER NINE – FATAL THUMBS
Jimmy’s first experience of the United States was waiting in line at customs. He felt a little woozy from the flight, but kept a constant check on his surroundings. He deliberately stirred up his programming every few seconds so that it was never far from the surface.
“Hey,” Felix whispered, sidling up to him. “Is your immigration card already filled in?”
Jimmy glanced down at them, clutched in his fist. Before he could check, Felix pulled them towards him to see for himself.
“Isn’t that a bit weird?” he asked.
Jimmy didn’t know what to say. Had one of the stewards on the flight been Viggo’s contact? Were they being smuggled into the US by a renegade airline company? For Jimmy, nothing seemed too ridiculous after everything he’d found out in the last few weeks. He peered further back in the queue, where Viggo was waiting with Helen and Georgie. Viggo gave Jimmy aslow nod of reassurance, but it did nothing to calm the boy’s nerves.
“I don’t trust any of this,” Jimmy muttered. Anger infused his voice. A surveillance camera swivelled over the crowd. Jimmy dropped his head.
“Take it easy,” Felix urged. “We’ve made it, haven’t we?”
“You really think that? Look up there.” Jimmy nodded to the head of the queue, where the customs officials waited in their high-sided booths. “First those guys will scan our passports. Then they’ll check our forms. All the time we’re on camera. The computer is already comparing our faces against a database of the faces of millions of criminals. Then they’ll take our thumbprints using an electronic reader that automatically scans the database for matches.”
“But—”
“Exactly – NJ7 probably put all our fingerprints on that database. As far as Interpol is concerned, we’re criminals. We’ve got perfect passports and documents. We even look a little different from usual, but Felix – we don’t have fake thumbs. And what about retinal scanners? Even with your eyes closed, the laser can read the identity that’s imprinted on the back of your eyes. Ask Chris how his ‘contacts’ are going to fix that.”
Felix was silent, staring at his thumbs. As they shuffled together up to the desk, the fear in them both grew deeper. Jimmy closed his eyes and rolled histhumb over the
“What are those pictures?” Felix asked, at last looking up from his in-depth study of what was going to be showing on the TV during the flight.
Meanwhile, the captain continued over him: “…We were experiencing minor interference with our computer systems. There must be an electrical storm on the continent. But there’s nothing to worry about…”
“They’re stuck in my head,” Jimmy rasped. His throat was suddenly dry.
“It’s easily fixed,” the captain droned on, “so we’ll make up the time in the air and should be landing at JFK on schedule.”
The flight was turbulent, but nevertheless Jimmy was determined to get some sleep. He wasn’t really tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be happy until he found out whether he was going to dream again. He half expected that he’d imagined the whole thing and convinced himself that these images were inside his head – just like he now doubted whether there really had been two people following them at the airport.
It wasn’t until several hours later, when the stewardess was handing round the immigration cards for US customs, that Jimmy finally dropped off. His card sat on his lap, unnoticed.
Jimmy only woke up when the plane touched the ground at John F Kennedy International Airport, New York City. All the excitement about coming to America was gone. There were just four things in Jimmy’s head: thin horizontal strips in the colours of the rainbow. Splashes of red and yellow against a dirty cream background. A white number 53 on a green background. The letter K, bold and black on a bright white wall.
Jimmy reached for his pens.
CHAPTER NINE – FATAL THUMBS
Jimmy’s first experience of the United States was waiting in line at customs. He felt a little woozy from the flight, but kept a constant check on his surroundings. He deliberately stirred up his programming every few seconds so that it was never far from the surface.
“Hey,” Felix whispered, sidling up to him. “Is your immigration card already filled in?”
Jimmy glanced down at them, clutched in his fist. Before he could check, Felix pulled them towards him to see for himself.
“Isn’t that a bit weird?” he asked.
Jimmy didn’t know what to say. Had one of the stewards on the flight been Viggo’s contact? Were they being smuggled into the US by a renegade airline company? For Jimmy, nothing seemed too ridiculous after everything he’d found out in the last few weeks. He peered further back in the queue, where Viggo was waiting with Helen and Georgie. Viggo gave Jimmy aslow nod of reassurance, but it did nothing to calm the boy’s nerves.
“I don’t trust any of this,” Jimmy muttered. Anger infused his voice. A surveillance camera swivelled over the crowd. Jimmy dropped his head.
“Take it easy,” Felix urged. “We’ve made it, haven’t we?”
“You really think that? Look up there.” Jimmy nodded to the head of the queue, where the customs officials waited in their high-sided booths. “First those guys will scan our passports. Then they’ll check our forms. All the time we’re on camera. The computer is already comparing our faces against a database of the faces of millions of criminals. Then they’ll take our thumbprints using an electronic reader that automatically scans the database for matches.”
“But—”
“Exactly – NJ7 probably put all our fingerprints on that database. As far as Interpol is concerned, we’re criminals. We’ve got perfect passports and documents. We even look a little different from usual, but Felix – we don’t have fake thumbs. And what about retinal scanners? Even with your eyes closed, the laser can read the identity that’s imprinted on the back of your eyes. Ask Chris how his ‘contacts’ are going to fix that.”
Felix was silent, staring at his thumbs. As they shuffled together up to the desk, the fear in them both grew deeper. Jimmy closed his eyes and rolled histhumb over the
Similar Books
