Abduction. Theft. Murder. Betrayal.
Created as a prototype for a soldier of the future, sixteen-year-old Sophie Jennings possesses abilities like no other. With exceptional strength, intelligence, endurance, longevity and the ability to become invisible, she is a force to be reckoned with, but many will try.
Her father, a bio-geneticist with a murky past, has ties to a corporation whose motives are questionable. His unease with their intentions, prompts him to run, taking Sophie with him.
Their journey unleashes a malicious chain of events that will pin Sophie up against a sadistic and equally powerful opponent and force her into a position to utilise every skill necessary to outwit and outrun her pursuers.
Fight or flight? Hide or seek?
For Sophie, the decision is simple.
Unbeknownst to her, taking out two armed men will only be the beginning of what she’ll face during the next forty-eight hours.
Will Sophie, inexperienced and untested, prove to be their worst enemy?
The Girl in the Mirror is a gripping action adventure that twists and turns, and twists some more. Like Sophie Jennings, you won’t see the end coming…
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Sophie was now standing in front of the fallen soldier. He slowly reached up to his ear and removed the earpiece, electronic voices continuing to whisper commands and instructions, oblivious to what had concluded in the apartment. He pulled the microphone out from his jacket and tossed it aside.
“I’m done,” he repeated hoarsely, then spat a globule of spit and blood out.
Sophie reached down and picked up the ear and mouth piece, holding it up to her ear.
“Alpha Team, what’s going on? Report? Back up team will be with you shortly. Do you copy?”
Sophie walked over to the place where the window had been, the curtains billowing in like an unfurled flag. She peered out just as her father had done earlier.
“Why won’t you leave us alone?” she asked into the microphone. “We’ve done nothing to you!”
At first the radio went silent.
In the distance the sound of sirens wailed as they fast approached in answer to all the gunfire and an elderly neighbour who’d been crudely woken from a nap in his armchair from all the hullabaloo. A small gathering of nosey onlookers had gathered at a safe distance down the road, their macabre fascination for blood, death and destruction fuelled their appetite to watch, no matter the risk to themselves.
“It’s not what you’ve done… Sophie. It’s what you are programmed to do.” An electronic voice secreted from the earpiece now held in the palm of Sophie’s right hand.
“You should stop. Whilst you have the chance. Stop now, I’m warning you.”
A police car appeared at the end of the road, tyres screeching, siren blaring, flashing lights splashing blue translucent colour urgently as it drew closer, coming to a halt outside the apartment block. Another police vehicle arrived moments later and still more sirens sounded in the background.
“Sophie… It doesn’t have to be like this. We could be friends, you and I.”
Sophie knew the voice at the end was playing with her, stalling for time, time which she didn’t have. She had to leave, and leave immediately, but before she did there were things she had to retrieve, things essential to her (and her father’s) survival.
Speaking as she worked, Sophie replied: “I doubt that very much.”
Retrieving a backpack and a large sports holdall, she filled the backpack with things she absolutely needed; spare clothes; provisions, water, food; the iPad which had miraculously survived the gunfire and violence; a mobile phone; a torch; her fluffy kangaroo from the safe room. What she couldn’t fit into the backpack, she placed into the holdall. She then emptied the refrigerator of every vial of serum, not forgetting to pack the jet injector.
From one of the fallen soldiers she unholstered a handgun and collected all the ammunition she could find (from them both), six magazines in all.
“We need to meet Sophie. I’m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Lastly, Sophie located the place where her father’s floor safe was, hidden beneath a section of carpet that was easily lifted. She pulled up the floorboard, exposing the digital combination lock of the safe. She keyed in her date of birth − a combination, or version thereof favoured by her father:
The latch clicked as the door from within was released. Sophie opened the door and reached in; removing her father’s laptop and two thick A5 envelopes which she knew each contained a thick wad of fifty pound notes. These last items she dropped into the holdall without much ado, and zipped it closed.
“Nice talking to you creep. Let’s do it again… not!” Sophie dropped the ear and mouth piece back to intruder number two, and unseen she left the apartment carrying the big holdall in one hand and the backpack over the shoulder of her opposite arm. She passed the policemen who were busy marking their territory, some armed and taking up strategic positions, rifles aimed ahead of them; others cordoning off the area at a safe distance, trying to assess the situation.
She passed further the group of bystanders who’d gathered into a very large force of spectators, busily gleaning and gloating at the theatrics now playing out ahead of them. Ignoring them, she continued at a pace putting distance between her and the Chelsea apartment, passing the black car that had gained her father’s attention but which hadn’t quite convinced him that there was an occupant staking them out, despite the possible sighting of a riflescope or the glass from a pair of binoculars.
She paid the car little more than a sideward glance, deep in concentration as she tried to make sense of what had just happened and formulate some ideas as to what next to do.
Sophie knew there was only one place she could really go, one place where the people who lived therein she could honestly trust. Although angered to be leaving all her worldly goods and her home behind, she was equally excited at the prospect of seeing her sister again, the only friend she knew.
The rear window of the black car, now behind her, electrically wound down. The passenger watched from a safe distance, night vision binoculars held against his eyes. For all intents and purposes he looked like a Peeping Tom. He watched the girl religiously, unseen by all she passed, her dishevelled appearance and determined look concealed to all except one. The man picked up a walkie-talkie and spoke into it.
“Bravo Team, stand down. Do not engage; repeat, DO NOT ENGAGE.”