by Eliza Green
The air was tight in this space, enough that he might not need the air-filtration device. But he kept it in and crept up to the hatch.
Someone knocked into him from behind. He looked back to see it was Anton.
‘It’s too dark in here,’ he muttered.
A strange sensation nipped at Stephen’s skin and stopped him halfway up.
He looked up at the metal hatch separating him from whatever was happening up top. He inched closer and put his ear next to the metal. A low, pulsing sound reached him. He grazed the surface of the hatch, feeling the sound replay into his fingers like a heartbeat.
Without seeing what lay beyond, he could only guess what was happening. Stephen pushed against the hatch, feeling heavy resistance there. A new prickle shot up his arm and to his face, startling him.
Anton lent his shoulder to the effort. The more they cracked the hatch open, the more intense the prickle became.
‘Close it!’ ordered Stephen.
‘What’s out there?’ Serena shouted up the stairs.
‘I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s electrified.’ He’d recognise that sensation anywhere.
Stephen pulled Anton back down and into the protected space of District Three. He coughed out the air-filtration device.
Electricity incapacitated them. And while his charges were still recovering from their infection, he could not afford anyone to be further weakened by whatever electrically charged object was out there.
‘We need to check the other exits. Now.’
Stephen ran on ahead, not waiting for the others. His first stop was the south entrance. A group of Indigenes had gathered there. One pointed inside the black corridor that led to a similarly hatched opening to the main one.
‘It won’t open,’ one said.
‘Electrified?’
The Indigene nodded.
‘Same as the main entrance.’
‘There are also guards patrolling inside the train tunnels, near our secret entrance.’
With its narrow gaps and false walls, he was not concerned about them finding the way in from beneath Victoria’s Maglev station. But the presence of soldiers in the tunnels was a worry.
Stephen left the group and checked the other three exits to find similar stories there. He hurried to the last one, the secret tunnel used by his charges to defy lockdown rules and go hunting. If it was blocked, it would mean members of his district were behind this move. His heart pounded thickly in his chest as he entered the inky-black space. He used the wall to guide him through the darkness. The outline of a figure was up ahead. When he drew nearer, he made out the shorter shape of Margaux—District Eight’s former elder and Gabriel’s former mate. She was touching the stone that Stephen had ordered there recently, to block the disused tunnel.
‘The way out is no more,’ she said without turning, ‘because of what you did.’
He’d become used to Margaux’s straight talking, but it still hurt to hear her say it.
He slumped against the wall. ‘I did what I had to do.’
‘I know, child.’ She turned and locked her intense gaze on him. ‘It’s not your fault. It’s theirs. And the ITF.’
Stephen shook his head. Her confusion still came and went. ‘You are mistaken. The ITF aren’t to blame for this. Bill would never allow this to happen.’
‘No, child. I heard them talking’—she pointed up—‘above. I heard them say the ITF was finally doing what it should have done before.’
Stephen straightened up. ‘Then you must have misheard.’ He would not have her speak ill about his friend.
Also, Bill would not turn on him like this.
‘Wake up, child. The ITF controls this world and everything in it. It dictates where we can hunt, and what times we can do it. We are prisoners behind an invisible wall. We are too much trouble, even for them.’
He shifted back from her. Bill was his ally, his friend. And Laura. There must be some other explanation.
‘You misheard,’ he said simply.
Margaux’s gaze hardened. ‘I did not.’
‘You did.’
He turned away and felt his way back to the start, until he could see more than vague shapes. Serena, Anton and Arianna waited, eager for news.
‘It’s blocked,’ was all he could manage. ‘Excuse me, I need to check something.’
He left them with Margaux, whom he was certain would fill them in on her theory.
Because that’s all it was.
Anton caught up to him.
‘Who’s behind it?’ he asked as they entered one of the tunnels.
Stephen watched his feet on the way back to his private quarters. He had lost some of his coordination since his cure.
He bounded up the stairs and jerked open the door on the top floor. He lunged for the DPad that he’d left sitting in one corner of the room. Forgotten. Stephen picked it up and shook it. It was still out of power.
A breathless Anton stood at the door. ‘What’s going on?’
Stephen shook the pad at him. ‘Can you charge this?’
‘I can. In my lab.’
‘Then let’s go.’
They set off for their new destination with a harried step and silence. Indigenes they passed stopped and stared at them. Perhaps they sensed his unease. Stephen had no time to explain. He needed to know if what Margaux had said was true.
Anton slipped inside his lab and walked over to a silver plate sitting on one workbench. He took the DPad from Stephen and placed it on top of it. A clink, clunk followed and the DPad levitated an inch from the plate.
‘One of their mobile recharging plates. Laura gave me one a while ago.’
Their district had a supply of power independent to that of the cities. Theirs came from solar energy that was stored inside carbon nanotubes.
Anton turned, resting his hands on the workbench. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
Stephen didn’t want to say in case he was wrong. He tipped his chin at the device. ‘How long before it charges?’
‘Ten minutes.’
They waited in silence. Anton stood motionless, while Stephen paced.
‘Please stop,’ said Anton suddenly. ‘You’re making me nervous.’
He did, resting his back against the edge of the counter instead. ‘Better?’
‘Yes and no. I’m still nervous.’
When ten minutes had passed, Stephen snatched the DPad off the plate. He shook it to activate it. That’s when he saw several missed calls from Bill.
‘Bill called?’ Anton peered over his shoulder. ‘When?’
He felt sick. ‘A few hours ago.’
Stephen called his number, livid that Bill would have authorised this move on them. The number rang and rang. He tried again. Then again. Nothing.
He tossed the DPad on the counter.
Anton frowned at him. ‘What is going on, Stephen?’
‘Margaux said she heard ITF talking outside one of the entrances.’
‘And?’
It pained him to say it. ‘I think Bill Taggart has something to do with all this.’
11
Harvey’s insurgents came and went all day. The Buzz Gun supplies dwindled after each visit, but the same six men Harvey had assigned to watch the docking station stayed. Marcus slumped in his chair outside the room holding Ben hostage. He’d been buzzing after Harvey had freed him from Taggart’s prison that morning and ready to do damage. And when Harvey had suggested they take Ben, he’d been all for it. But to kill him, not babysit the turd.
Ben’s muffled whining reached him through the locked door and the small window two-thirds up the wall. He ignored him and slouched more.
One of Harvey’s men walked passed, looking pissed off. He pointed at the room. ‘You gonna get that?’
Marcus folded his arms. ‘He’s just after attention.’
The man smiled. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Okay, but if he shits and pisses himself it’s on you.’
The thought drove Marcus to his feet. ‘I, uh... yeah, thanks.’
He opened the door to see Ben had worked his gag free.
‘I need to use the toilet,’ Ben whined at him like a little kid.
Marcus checked the floor, hoping, praying, he hadn’t relieved himself. He’d had to do it once—clean up after Enzo Agostini had stumbled home from a night of drinking, gambling and hookers. It had been the most humiliating night of his life.
He strode over to the teen and yanked him to his feet.
A bound Ben pitched forward; Marcus caught him before he fell.
‘Could you untie my feet?’
With a sigh, Marcus ordered, ‘On your belly.’
Ben lay down and Marcus undid his feet, but looped the binds like a noose around the boy’s neck. Ben got to his feet and Marcus controlled him with the extra reins.
‘Try anything and I’ll yank this so hard, you’ll see spots.’
He pushed him out of the room and across the wide, open space to a corridor housing facilities that had once been open to the public. He pushed the kid inside the bathroom and into one of the stalls.
Ben could manage from here with his hands tied to the front. This was as far as the help went.
Holding on to the reins, Marcus waited by the door, trying not to listen to the sounds in the stall. Wishing he could be out there with the other men, wreaking havoc. Taking little shits to take a shit was not why he’d signed up to this. Not why he’d suffered humiliation and threats to his life under Gaetano’s rule for all those years. The humiliation part had been courtesy of Enzo.
Marcus was better than Harvey believed him to be. He was better than Carl, his former friend turned betrayer.
Ben exited the stall and Marcus yanked him by the neck over to the sink. While Ben washed his hands, Marcus stared at his still-altered face in one of the many mirrors.
Ben kept glancing at him while he washed.
Marcus stared at the turd. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘I’m starting to see your old face return.’
Panicked, he eyed the work Harvey had completed. Shit, he was right. The bottom half of his face, and below his eyes, was beginning to change back to what it used to be. Except for his throat scar, any changes made to his appearance could not be considered permanent.
Not that it mattered anyway. He was past hiding on this planet.
He was past hiding. Period.
The sound of the water turning off broke him out of his daze. Marcus straightened up and snapped the snarl of rope looped around Ben’s neck.
‘Ow, that hurts.’
He whipped the ends on his neck. It would be easy to kill the kid, to put him down like the dog he was. He could say the kid slipped, banged his head on the porcelain sink.
Harvey would be livid. The men outside would fear him, worry about being left alone with him. He’d be revered. Gaetano had taught him there was a time and place for fear. Strike at the right moment, and those you worried taking over would never step out of line again.
But Buchanan would shoot him dead if the kid died.
With another sigh, Marcus shoved Ben out of the bathroom and steered him back to the main hall.
The six men dotted around the place—most up on the higher balcony—were using magnification glasses to check out of the windows there. Marcus eyed the trestle table with a few weapons left, some set to charge. He swiped one off the table before they saw him, and added it to the knife in his waistband.
Marcus nudged the teen on and back to the room, ordering him to lie down while he retied his feet. He then shoved him into his seat and bound him.
Ben stared up at him. Gone was the kid from Waverley who feared Marcus Murphy. Maybe killing his grandfather had pushed him too far, made him fear no one.
Technically, the old man hadn’t died by Marcus’ hand. But he had brought him closer to death by beating him up and tying him to the chair. Still, Albert Lee had been alive and kicking when Marcus had bolted from the inn.
He sensed more bravado now than fear from the kid. Maybe he still had hope someone would rescue him.
Not for the first time, Gaetano entered his mind. How would he play it?
Marcus slouched against the wall and goaded, ‘Who’s coming for you?’
The kid—teen—just stared at him.
‘I said who’s coming for you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Marcus pulled the Buzz Gun out and pointed it at him. ‘You know I know how to use one of these.’
He caught the flicker of uncertainty—and fear—in Ben’s eyes. It sent a thrill through him.
‘Bill will come. And Stephen.’
Marcus laughed. The Indigenes cared about nobody but their own. And Marcus cared only about his own kind. It was the way life was—the way it should be.
‘Fat chance. You’re on your own. Or, rather, it’s just you and me. And I’ll make fucking sure I’m the last person you see.’
Ben lifted his chin. ‘So why is Harvey keeping me here? I assume it’s because he’s sure Bill will come.’
Marcus had assumed that too. He still didn’t know what Harvey’s end game was. The man was too damn secretive, like Gaetano Agostini.
But Harvey was no Gaetano. And Marcus had gotten to know his former boss’s habits well. Who better to channel his former employer than the one person who’d revered him more than his own son?
He straightened up and walked over to Ben, getting close enough to sniff him. ‘It doesn’t matter if he comes. He won’t get past my men.’
The kid eyed him. ‘Don’t you mean Harvey’s men? Did you see that red-haired one? Looks exactly like Carl. Must be weird to be working for your old friend. He wasn’t very smart as I remember.’
Marcus backhanded him across the face; Ben yelped.
‘Shut your mouth.’
The kid smiled through the pain. ‘You’re nothing here, like you were nothing on Earth.’
‘If I’m nothing here, then why has Harvey put me in charge of the bait?’
Ben worked his jaw from side to side, as if releasing the last of the pain there. The kid had no answer.
Just as he thought.
Marcus brought his face closer. ‘Listen to me carefully. You will not make it out alive. I will make sure of it.’
The kid laughed. Actually laughed. The sound startled Marcus enough that he pulled back.
‘Are you shitting me right now?’ said Ben. His laugh faded away. ‘I remember your style of management and it’s to hurt first, never ask questions. You’ve never been a negotiator. But I assume Gaetano was.’ Marcus’ blood ran hot at the mention of his former boss. ‘You’re trying to reinvent yourself around someone who knows your tactics, who had to live with your bullshit.’
Marcus straightened up. The kid was right. His efforts were wasted on this turd.
He worked the gag into place and left the room. But not before he punched the closed door.
Might as well make it sound authentic in here.
The six men in the docking bay didn’t know him, didn’t know his reputation. They were a blank slate upon which to wield his Agostino charm. Harvey had made a mistake in underestimating him. He would turn the men one by one, make them follow him. Rule with an iron fist and no mercy—just like Enzo used to.
He wandered over to one man who had climbed down from the balcony and was sitting in a chair, taking a break. It was the one who had red hair like his former friend turned enemy, Carl.
‘Anything out there?’ Marcus asked.
The man barely looked up at him.
‘Who are you expecting first—Taggart?’
The Carl lookalike lifted his gaze lazily. ‘Get back to your post.’
‘The kid’s bound and gagged. He isn’t going anywhere. Wh
y don’t you tell me what’s going on, see if I can help. I used to be first-in-command for the most ruthless man in Brooklyn.’
The man stood and towered over Marcus. ‘How about you go do your job and leave the rest of us to ours?’
He would not let one of Harvey’s untrained men threaten him. Especially not one who looked like that dipshit Carl.
Marcus pointed a finger at him. ‘How about you sit the fuck down and show me some respect?’
The man narrowed his eyes at him. His lip curled up in part disgust, part sneer. ‘What the fuck’s wrong with your face? It’s like half of it is falling.’
Marcus covered his chin. ‘Harvey’s work gone wrong.’
‘He change your face?’
Marcus released it. ‘Yeah, because I’m a dangerous fucker. So don’t get on the wrong side of me.’
The man laughed. ‘Okay, whatever you say. Now fuck off.’
Marcus stomped back to his chair, noticing the other men up high had been watching. Their smiles had him seething inside.
He’d only just met them. How could they have sized him up so fast?
Unless Harvey had spoken to them...
That made his blood boil. Harvey had underestimated him. Again.
He would make these men listen to him. Make them respect him, like he’d respected Gaetano. Then he would make them follow.
12
‘I’m going off grid for a while,’ Bill said to Julie.
They were standing inside the secret meeting room on the fifth floor, next to the hidden tunnel entrance. Gunnar had just used this entrance to meet with him.
‘How will I get in touch?’
‘Call me on my private channel in case of emergencies. The main DPad channels are offline with the Wave disabled, but the encrypted channels are still working. Some of the underground operatives will also be staying inside the city. I’ve asked them to keep an eye on this place.’
Julie nodded, looking relieved. ‘Where are you headed?’
‘Best you don’t know, but we have a lead on Harvey.’
Her eyes widened a little. ‘You and Laura?’
‘Yes. She—we’re both counting on you to look after things while we’re away.’