Gheist

by Richard Mosses

  34

  It seemed wrong to simply walk in through the door. With all the sneaking around and tricking open locks just going into the penthouse without having to subdue an alarm through a complex operation felt a little anticlimactic. But then Mrs Danton was there and this had only just begun.

  Danton Jr had called on the radio for a medic to look at the guard, but Clint had been missing when they’d come up the stairs. Hopefully he was resting within his anchor. Danton walked behind Kat, gently but firmly guiding her to the elevator. So far as Kat knew Amy and Fingers were still inside the vault lock and the building’s security system. Jack was keeping quiet and was following along, but he looked like a trapped animal ready to lash out. Kat felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck as the static in the air increased.

  How had Danton Jnr found them? Was he just playing her along, to see what would happen if he pushed her buttons? His visit the other day was another part of this psychodrama; keeping the squeeze on her, making her more desperate, as winning the money got even further out of her reach. Perhaps it was all just a wild coincidence and he just happened to randomly check on the vault, just when Amy’s attention was elsewhere. Then there was the most likely possibility that one of the crew had turned on them.

  With so many conflicting thoughts, Kat’s emotions were a kaleidoscope. Mostly she was very angry. So angry she could feel her hands twitch every time that she thought about turning round and scratching Danton’s eyes out. But it wasn’t his fault they’d failed. It was all hers. So she also felt deep despair. When they passed the kitchens she took a step towards a room full of knives and flame. She couldn’t see any way out and despite the torrent of feelings she knew she couldn’t go back to being a husk. She’d rather end it.

  When she wasn’t so occupied with herself, Kat did snatch a few moments of concern for her friends. Mainly for Jack given how desperate he looked, but for Clint too. They’d given a lot for her for nothing in return. Amy would likely not find anyone else to help her rid the world of that file, not for a while, her torment continuing, played out as she selectively chose to torture random downloaders looking to get their own jollies from another’s misfortune. Fingers, well who knew about Fingers? He always seemed to be alright no matter what. One of them, though, might be her Judas. Unless it was Vincent, or maybe Melchior. But they had nothing to gain from betraying her. Did any of them? Maybe it was just a curious case of bad chance after all.

  “So this is the woman who’s been causing us so much trouble,” said Mrs Danton, sizing Kat up. She reminded Kat of an Eighties soap queen, an Alexis or a Krystle. Mrs Danton didn’t quite have the shoulder pads, but she had an expensive outfit, ridiculously chunky jewellery and the manner of someone who owned everything and could drop some change to get what she didn’t. It was probably why she needed other people’s hearts. “I’d expected someone…smarter.”

  Kat knew she was being baited. But she’d expected to be smarter too. Clearly it hadn’t worked out that way or they’d not be having this conversation. Sometimes you had to accept what you were; she was just an ordinary girl, not good for much, not ever going to be great.

  “You’ve certainly given George the run around, though.” She nodded at her grandson. “That takes some doing.”

  Kat felt uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny. Mrs D’s eyes were dark but occasionally it seemed like there was another intelligence looking through her. It was like speaking with Melchior. Was a ghost riding her too? Was this what Amy had seen?

  “I just want my heart back,” said Kat. “I’ll take it and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  “Didn’t George go through this with you? You owe us a lot of money.” Mrs Danton tapped her nails on the hard surface of her desk.

  “No, I don’t. My former fiancée, Tony, owes you a lot of money. He’s here, somewhere. I owe you a few grand really. But you made me desperate enough that this was my only option. You asked me to steal it back, really. You practically left the door open too.”

  “It’s not like you did it all on your own,” said Mrs Danton. “You had some help. Shame one of them was working for me too.” Mrs D couldn’t keep the triumph out of her voice.

  So, she had been betrayed after all. It was only a matter of moments, no doubt, before the culprit was revealed, but Kat was close enough still to her heart to feel the bite, to have her stomach sink and a deep sadness creep into her bones. She thought they were a team.

  “I’m sorry,” said Fingers, from behind Kat. “I didn’t really grass on you. She’s got my main anchor around her neck. I couldn’t refuse and somehow she can see what I do.”

  Kat took a long look at the necklace. The pendant was a crystal, maybe a rough diamond, about the size of a chicken egg, with a halo of circuitry roughly two inches wide. As the light shifted with the rise and fall of Mrs D’s chest it was clear it wasn’t tracks and transistors, but the same metal Evelyn’s key was made from. The whole thing was attached to a chain made from large silver links. Apart from anything it must weigh heavy on the neck. “The Star of Irem,” Kat said, recalling one of the many, many times Fingers had told them about his final job. “So we were anticipated.”

  “I was curious to see how far you would get,” Mrs Danton said. “It will help us ensure our security is improved.”

  They had just been rats running through a maze. “Is the guard going to be okay? It wasn’t his fault.”

  “He just got a concussion,” said Danton Jnr. “Not the first he’s had. We’ll give him some paid leave. Now he’s seen what he’s seen he may be more useful in the future.”

  “I was also hoping you’d brought Clinton with you,” Mrs D said. “Is he here?”

  “Why would you want to see Clint?” said Kat.

  “I saw him through Finger’s eyes and it would be good to catch up.” Mrs D smiled to herself.

  “Clint is gone, Mrs Danton,” said Fingers. “I fear he may have overexerted himself.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Mrs D. “I’d so been looking forward to seeing him again.”

  “How did you come to know about all this?” said Kat. “About the dead, taking hearts?”

  “There were times when I couldn’t shake the feeling that people were near me. People I was sure had been most unfortunate, meeting with horrific, fatal, accidents. Occasionally there was something more tangible. A vase had fallen on the floor from the centre of a table, or I thought I saw one of them reflected in a mirror. Naturally, I sought some spiritual guidance on the matter. The regular churches weren’t much help, but I found a small sect just starting out in town and they had a very different perspective. We came to a mutual understanding and I found that the pastor had some other skills that were useful in building my business.”

  “That reminds me,” said Kat. “May I have my heart back? Call it a finder’s fee for helping you get in touch with Tony, or we could call it quits on the security consultancy I’ve done for you.”

  Mrs Danton’s smile didn’t touch more than her lips. She came out from behind her desk to stand in front of Kat. “How about we don’t increase what you owe us? You’ve damaged my vault, assaulted a guard and ruined a uniform.”

  “What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with this uni…” The light just caught the sliver of metal darting toward Kat’s side. She dodged to the side, but the shirt was slashed.

  “Always one step behind,” said Mrs Danton, reversing the arc of the blade.

  “Meema, if you injure her you may lose the heart too,” said Danton Jr, catching her hand gently.

  “If I have to lose this one’s heart then so be it, but she isn’t going to have it either,” said Mrs D, struggling against her grandson’s grip. “You’re too soft, George, like your father.”

  “I’m nothing like my Dad, Meema,” said George, taking the blade, weary irritation in his voice; he’d heard this many times before. “He didn’t want anything to do with our business. I grew it.”

  “
Because he’s soft. If your grandfather had been here, it would all be different.” Mrs Danton steadied herself on the edge of her desk. “He would’ve been raised right.”

  “Let me wound her carefully,” said Danton Jr, playing with the blade. “I’ll ensure you teach Ms McKay whatever lesson you want and keep her heart.”

  “What did I miss?” said Clint, appearing next to Kat.

  “He’s here,” said Fingers.

  “We opened the vault, but Fingers was a grass,” said Kat. “Danton Junior invited us up for a cup of gloat tea with his grandma. Looks like he’ll be serving some Kat carpaccio shortly.”

  “Clinton? Clinton Jefferson?” said Mrs Danton. “I’ve waited so, so long to see you again.” She touched the gem in the necklace – her eyes again took on the look that someone else looked through them.

  “I’m sorry,” said Clint. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Mrs Danton was clearly shocked and disappointed to hear this. “It’s me, Marie-Claire.”

  Clint frowned deeply troubled and thinking hard. His face softened; he must have found a memory after all. “Marie-Claire? Is that really you? You’re the Danton we’ve heard so much about?”

  “Still as handsome as the last time I saw you,” she said, a genuine smile on her face. “Such a shame I had to have Jack kill you.”

  “What?” said Jack. “I didn’t do anything of the sort.” Sparks crackled in his eyes.

  “But you did,” said Mrs D, either able to hear through her connection to Fingers, or knowing what the reaction would be. “I lured you away from your wife, promised we’d be together, but I needed you to take out the one thing standing in our way before we ran off to LA.”

  “Oh, Marie-Claire, princess, always making dramas,” said Clint. “And here we are, in one again. Give the lady her heart back. I never asked anythin’ of you before, so do this one thing for me, for old time’s sake.”

  Had Kat been the one to bang her head? Perhaps in truth the guard had shot her and this was a fever fantasy. She must have dreamed herself into a noir thriller or some over the top soap opera. She’d not heard it all yet.

  “But you did ask me for something, darling,” said Marie-Claire Danton, who looked like she’d been waiting a long time to say this. She seemed to relish every word. “You asked me to get rid of our child. You couldn’t stand to see it brought up in the world you lived in. I knew then that if I didn’t you’d get rid of me. I wasn’t such a foolish girl I hadn’t heard the rumours about you. I’d just laughed them off. Looking into your eyes that night I knew they were true. I knew I had to kill you, my love, before you killed me. I invited you to the building site, so I could share with you the good news. Just in case, Jack here was lying in wait, ready to take you down.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” said Clint. “It’s all a blank to me. I know I was to meet someone that night. I remember fallin’ into the wet cement. I wanted you to kill our child? I can’t believe that. Did it live? Am I a father?”

  “You’re much more than that, Clinton. George is your grandson.”

  “Really?” Clint turned towards George Danton. He smiled, a big dumb smile. “Good to meet you, Boy.”

  Mrs D repeated Clint’s words for Danton Jnr. “Papa.” George Danton nodded. “My father, your son, he’s a Clinton too. He’s still alive. I’m sure he’d be pleased to meet you,” George said.

  “I have a son, a grandson.” Clint shook his head. “Why would I ever have wanted otherwise?”

  “You were a gangster, my love,” said Marie-Claire. “Worked for the Mob. No life was beneath you in getting your way.”

  “Sure I killed, in the war, in self-defence,” said Clint. “But my own kid? I just can’t see myself in the man you describe. And you, you killed me, killed Jack I bet, took Vincent’s heart, killed Melchior, used Fingers and you’ve taken Kat’s heart. I’m sure you’ve killed others too. Built a criminal empire on the deaths of others and dragged our grandson into this. Even if it were true, you think this was better?”

  “With you gone I had no protection. I learnt you’ve got do what you have to, to survive,” said Marie-Claire. “I learned it from you.”

  “What about our son? Is he here somewhere waitin’ to shoot someone?”

  “That boy was soft, no good. He knew what was needed from him, but refused to give it. His only saving grace was he brought me George here. This one bred true.”

  “Did he bring George, or did you take him?”

  “In a way you were right. I should’ve aborted him. The weakling. He wouldn’t take my milk. Nearly starved himself until the nurses fed him formula. He grew up inside, a reader. I gave him everything he wanted, and it was never good enough for him. It was like he was above it all looking down on us, on me. If you’d been around it would’ve been different.”

  “Guess you gave yourself that problem,” said Kat.

  “Are you a mother? What would you know about raising a child, alone?”

  “Ah, there’s that Mother’s Prerogative. If you’re not a mother you’re not allowed an opinion on raising kids. And even if I was a mother, you’d hear no criticism anyway,” said Kat, who’d given up trying to have meaningful conversations with her friends who’d birthed monstrous offspring. She’d practically stopped seeing them at all. “You’re a one-woman apocalypse. I’m glad I’m nothing like you.”

  “You’re nothing like me?” said Mrs Danton. “You’re using the same men I used for your own ends. You’re exactly like me.”

  “Don’t paint me with your own brush. I’m not using anyone. They’re here of their own free will, and I wouldn’t be doing any of this if you hadn’t taken my heart. And what’s your excuse? Survival?”

  “Isn’t that yours?” said Mrs Danton. “You’re doing this to survive.”

  Kat laughed, a genuine laugh. She surprised herself. When was the last time she’d really laughed? “No. I was surviving quite well before our paths crossed. Even afterwards all I was doing was surviving. If this was just about that I wouldn’t need my heart. No. I want to live.”

  There was a flash, a bang, and everyone turned to see Melchior stride through a cloud of smoke. “As do I,” Melchior said.

  “Can just anyone walk in here? What do we pay security for?” said Mrs Danton.

  “Don’t blame them,” said Melchior, smiling. Kat recognised the eyes as belonging to the sister. “They felt a need to rest. I didn’t discourage it.”

  “You! You’re dead,” said Mrs D.

  “Rumours, exaggeration. If some of your employees and former lovers can in some form survive, why surely one or two can completely escape death altogether?” said Melchior.

  Which Melchior was which? Had the sister survived and the brother was the ghost? But he seemed to be present most of the time, in public at least. That would surely take a lot of effort. Maybe it was all a bluff and Kat had been told the truth. In all the excitement though she saw an opportunity and started edging towards the corner of the penthouse with the elevator to the vault.

  “It looks like all your transgressions are coming home to roost,” said Melchior.

  “I’m as clean as that expensive suit I paid for,” said Mrs Danton.

  “While I’m sure your hands might be,” said Melchior. “Your soul may be another matter.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Marie-Claire,” said Clint. “Did you take my grandson from his father?”

  Kat reached the elevator and pushed the button to summon the car. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. Did she need a key to make it work?

  “George here came looking for me,” said Marie-Claire. “Our son was ashamed of his family. Georgie, came round to see me soon as he was old enough, wanted learn about the family trade. Wanted to know about his grand-daddy, the war hero.” She turned to Kat. “I’m sorry, dear, but that simply won’t work for you. You haven’t got what it takes.”

  What did it take to summon an elevator? Was it a key? No. Mrs D w
ould have said something different. She seemed very hung up on strength and weakness. Oh God, if she needed a heart she was completely screwed. Had Melchior forgotten to mention this was part of the work that had been done by them or was it an upgrade? Didn’t look like it was something Amy could do something about, wherever she was hiding.

  Clint must have concentrated the way Melchior had shown him, so he could speak for himself. “This true, Boy?” Clint asked George, his voice audible, but barely more than a whisper.

  George shrugged. “More or less, Papa. Dad works at the University, lecturer in gender studies or something. Doesn’t know what he’s missing.” He smiled at his Meema.

  A grandson? Did she need a grandson to open the door? No again that was like an object. Kat, apparently, didn’t have what it took. Was there a quality she needed to have? Maybe being a grandmother was a quality. Having a family, a bloodline. Oh, what about blood, or DNA? Wasn’t that effectively the same?

  “I should drop by some time, give him some notes,” said Melchior.

  “Shut up,” said Jack. “Shut up! SHUT UP all of you.” The noise of the constant argument had just gotten too much. And while Jack knew he had killed, sometimes for money, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept that he had killed his friend in the after-life, and on top of that his other friend had betrayed him. He could feel the Commissars watching him, judging him. They didn’t care what he had done in life, but in death, everything he did was their concern. He’d conspired with other deceased, he’d used his powers to act on the living, and they were going to come for him once the case against him was complete. He had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Anyone he cared about had either deceived him, or he had apparently betrayed them. Marie-Claire had said she loved him. She said the child was his. Didn’t that mean George was his grandson? Maybe he had other grandsons? If he did kill Clint it was Marie-Claire who put him up to it. She said so herself. She had gotten Jack killed too. All of this was her fault. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t left Diane, and their daughter, for her. And all for nothing. What had he been thinking?