The House of Killers

by Samantha Lee Howe

  The driver doesn’t speak to him behind the film of black glass that separates them, and Sharrick makes no attempt to engage him.

  When they reach their destination, Sharrick has no idea in what part of the country he is, any more than he did when he was a child living in the house. Though he may be able to speculate because of the time it’s taken, he makes a conscious effort not to think about it.

  As the driver pulls up, the glass clears and Sharrick sees for the first time in years the place that had once been his home and his prison.

  The chauffeur opens the door and Sharrick gets out.

  A woman stands on the impressive steps at the front of the house. She is wearing a suit and looks ordinary, but Sharrick’s practised eye notices the bulge in her jacket that signifies a gun and holster. Despite her plain looks, he knows this is Olive and that she is a dangerous operative.

  Sharrick looks up beyond her, his gaze following the line of the house up to the third floor. The thought floats through his mind that the description of this place as ‘the house’ is modest. This is a palatial property. It’s large enough to be a boarding school that can house students and teachers as well as have its own classrooms and training areas.

  ‘Sharrick?’ says Olive. She holds out her hand and Sharrick takes it. They shake hands.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet,’ he says.

  Olive nods and invites him inside. Sharrick enters the imposing front door and hallway, eyes wide with both curiosity and apprehension. The entrance is still as large as he remembers and it opens out onto a central staircase and two long corridors, one either side, that lead off into other areas of the house.

  ‘It makes you feel strange, being here, doesn’t it?’ Olive says as she leads him to the left of the staircase, into an office which is the first door. Sharrick doesn’t answer; she accepts this as acknowledgement that she’s right.

  Sharrick doesn’t recall the inside of this room; perhaps he was never permitted to enter it.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Olive says and she goes around to the other side of an exquisite antique desk made of polished oak.

  Sharrick sits opposite her. Then he sees the plaque that sits on the desk.

  OLIVE REDDING

  Headteacher

  ‘This is a school?’ he says, surprised.

  ‘It always was,’ Olive says. ‘Only now we find it is the best cover of all to admit what we are. It’s a school for gifted children. The students think they are sent willingly by their parents. As you see, I warrant respect as the head. We must evolve, especially in how we condition each generation.’

  The thought of this jars Sharrick. He feels nauseous. What was it they had told him during his time here? He can barely recall, possibly because after the conditioning it didn’t matter. For certain, he and his peers stopped asking to go home and made no attempt to escape. He remembered being afraid when he arrived. The house was big, his guards intimidating. He had been so young, barely five years old.

  ‘Can I get you something to drink?’ Olive asks.

  This courtesy also appears odd to Sharrick. ‘No. Let’s get to business. Then I can let you get back to your important work. You know why I’m here?’

  ‘Yes. You want to know about Tracey’s methods?’

  Sharrick nods.

  ‘Brutal. Unforgiving. She really ran a very tight ship when she was in the house. Ruling us with pain and fear.’

  ‘This was always the method,’ Sharrick says. ‘I’m looking for something diverse. Some training of hers that was different to that of others. As someone now familiar with how this is done, maybe you can enlighten me?’

  ‘That’s difficult,’ Olive says. ‘But I’ve put together a full dossier of all the regular methods of brainwashing that have been commonly used over the years. We are doing things slightly differently now, as I explained. Our students are no longer being forced to become operatives; they are conditioned to want to be one. There was always an element of competition before; now, the focus on this is heavier. Academic achievement is just as important as physical abilities. It is not an option to be a good assassin; they are taught to want to be the greatest.’

  ‘What you say is the same philosophy we were taught from the beginning.’

  Olive smiles. ‘With all due respect, the torture you underwent made you believe that. Nowadays we encourage with positive reinforcement, and punish only when it is absolutely necessary. Obviously, on top of controlled conditioning. We are seeing great results. This round of students will be ready much younger to take up their duties. Their youth will be of great advantage. Theoretically, they will also be useful to us for longer.’

  Sharrick quells the tremor of emotion that runs through him at Olive’s revelations.

  ‘Would you like to see what we do?’ Olive asks. ‘I’ve been authorised to show you around.’

  Sharrick nods. ‘That might be very beneficial to my inquiry.’

  Olive stands. She walks back around the desk and Sharrick is aware of how young she is to have such responsibility, but also how powerful her bearing is. She is confident and at home in this environment. Unlike himself.

  ‘Come,’ Olive says. She studies his face as he stands and then she turns and leads him out of the office and into the house proper.

  Sharrick pulls his emotions in check. He’s always been in control, never falling down. As one of Doctor Mendez’s first experiments, he was conditioned to fear failure as much as he feared his masters. He, like the others of his class group, had worked to please the trainers, looking for some recognition that they were worthy, but never receiving it.

  He listens now as Olive explains the new methods. Drugs and hypnosis are used, but there is a conscious effort to praise and reward hard work too. It creates, she explains, the perfect slaves who adore their masters more than they fear them.

  ‘But how do you factor in issues of breakdown? Of self-awareness that leads to disobedience?’

  ‘These are children,’ Olive says. ‘They are taught to love and respect us. This generates far more loyalty than fear alone. Also, failure at times is seen as a learning curve. Though, of course, the conditioning instils the innate horror of defiance. What we create these days are far more rounded individuals than before. They are taught that this is their vocation, not a forced enslavement. If you think you have free will, you have no reason to rebel. Also, because of this, we feel that all of them may well be able to retire in the traditional sense. As functioning human beings, they will not be a danger to the Network or themselves when set free.’

  ‘How is this different then from the conditioning you received from Tracey?’ Sharrick asks. ‘And how is it that you seem so rounded?’

  ‘There have been many breakdowns in recent years because of the old style of training. With the aid of psychologists, we’ve come to believe we need to deal with the underlying issues that cause such a breakdown. You and I were damaged badly by our experiences, but each of us was intelligent enough to rise above it and understand that we can choose to be part of the Network or we become retired. I have had therapy to help me become who I am. To make me into the best instructor for future generations. You have naturally evolved, haven’t you? Though I suspect you suffer from many of the fears that were deliberately placed inside your psyche.’

  Sharrick is shocked by Olive’s blunt analysis of their mutual state. He doesn’t acknowledge the truth of what she says, as her statements are not put as questions, to see if he agrees. This tactic frees him from responsibility. He can listen without acquiescence. Part of him realises that this is why Olive structures her words in this way. His loyalty is not in doubt. He is not required to question what his superiors did. Just as well, since he is incapable of doing so.

  ‘I have been assured that lessons have been learnt and I’m permitted to analyse any possible mistakes in order to execute my role here effectively,’ Olive explains. ‘You are now being given the same permission. The Network has seen a great deal of strength
in you, Sharrick. We are looking to move forward and develop you.’

  Sharrick shudders at her words. Even though she’s years younger than him, she is his superior, and therefore she has the right to say this. His head feels light as he thinks about the implication: he now has the right to ask questions. The feeling is difficult to comprehend and accept. It fights with his inner self. Curiosity kills.

  ‘You’ll get used to this freedom,’ she says. ‘Mr Beech believes it will help you in your search. It is also important for your future. Come.’

  Sharrick follows Olive but a cold prickle puts the hairs on his scalp on edge. His teeth chatter with anxiety, but he forces his jaw to relax.

  ‘You’re remembering the fear,’ Olive says. ‘Watch this.’

  They reach the door and Sharrick sees a girl sitting in a chair, unsupervised, outside the doctor’s room. She is fourteen or fifteen years old. Petite but wiry. Her face is relaxed. She smiles at Olive and at Sharrick as though seeing them there is perfectly normal.

  ‘Elsbeth is going for her treatment shortly. How do you like the treatments?’ Olive asks the girl.

  ‘Enjoyable. Relaxing,’ says the girl smiling broadly.

  Sharrick searches her face for signs of distress but finds none. Then the door opens and a female nurse is standing in the doorway.

  ‘Hello, Elsbeth,’ the nurse says. She too smiles and appears benign. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Oh, yes please!’ says Elsbeth. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day!’

  The child goes inside and the nurse closes the door.

  ‘She wasn’t scared,’ Sharrick says.

  ‘No. The treatments are considered to be rewards not punishment. What happens in there absolves the students of all future guilt about the path that has been chosen for them. They learn a morality.’

  ‘Morality? That seems to be an oxymoron in light of their future job, and I say this with no judgement. It’s how the world sees what we do, though we know our role is important.’

  ‘They believe that what they do is for the good of humanity. The people they go after are evil. They don’t consider anything else.’

  Sharrick fights with his new freedom. He must ask more, but fears reprisals.

  ‘Ask anything,’ Olive says, as though she knows he is struggling.

  ‘What I really need to understand is what changes Tracey Herod made to the conditioning of Neva that freed her. Can you answer that?’

  ‘Possibly,’ says Olive. ‘Though we may need to find Neva and study her to be sure. Our failures can inform our future successes.’

  ‘But the trouble is,’ Sharrick says, ‘this very thing is how she has learnt to escape us. I need to know how to unpick her mind. I need insight into how she might warp her training.’

  Olive nods. ‘I thought you might need help with this. We have the doctor who worked on her here. He’s not working anymore. His mind is a little confused these days, but we take care of him. He deserves that loyalty. And if we have him in our control then he can never be a threat.’

  ‘Mendez? Can I see him?’ Sharrick asks, even though the thought strikes terror in his heart.

  ‘He’s ready for you,’ Olive says.

  Sharrick follows her away from the treatment room and to the entrance hall. Then Olive leads him upstairs to the second floor.

  ‘This is our medical zone,’ she says. ‘Was it the same in your time?’

  ‘I don’t recall. Maybe there was a treatment room, and a doctor occasionally examined us other than Doctor Mendez.’

  ‘Mendez was such a pioneer. We owe so much of our success to his experiments.’

  Sharrick says nothing.

  ‘His room is in the west wing,’ Olive says as they turn left at the top of the stairs. ‘His appearance may shock you. He is quite frail. And thirty years older than the last time you saw him.’

  They pass two doors before Olive stops and knocks on the third one on the right.

  ‘Come in,’ says a small voice.

  Olive opens the door and walks confidently inside as though Mendez holds no terror for her at all.

  Sharrick pauses at the door. He feels the same sick, scared sensation that once accompanied all visits to Mendez, but even more so the treatment room.

  ‘Good day, doctor,’ says Olive. ‘Here is the visitor I told you about. You remember Sharrick, don’t you?’

  Mendez is indeed frail in appearance but his eyes are steely cold mirrors that inform Sharrick more about the character of the man than his infirm body. Sharrick remembers Mendez as strong, tall, and young, but now he appears shrivelled. He realises that if the man is eighty or older then he must have been at least fifty when he worked on Sharrick’s group. How many other assassins had he created before then?

  ‘I remember you,’ says Mendez. ‘The acrobat…’

  This reference to Sharrick’s particular physical skills jars him somewhat. He hadn’t expected Mendez to remember him at all because the doctor had always made them feel so unimportant. He treated them like lab rats, as something less than human. Sharrick hadn’t felt like that since he left this house and gained a modicum of freedom as an operative. Now he is plummeted back into that awful position.

  Mendez studies him as if he knows exactly how Sharrick is feeling. A small smile curves the wrinkled lips upwards, and yet the humour doesn’t reach the doctor’s eyes. It is cruelty that Sharrick sees there, and disgust.

  ‘Do you want a drink?’ Mendez says and suddenly his face becomes more congenial, less frightening and brutal. ‘I don’t get visitors much and it will be nice to hear about your successes. You may not know this, but I am proud of you, Sharrick. You reached heights that others only dreamed of.’

  Sharrick sinks down into a chair that’s been placed beside Mendez’s by the window, but facing inwards. There is a teapot on a small table beside the doctor and he begins to pour tea into two cups.

  ‘Milk and sugar?’ he asks politely.

  The scene is surreal and Sharrick almost believes he’s still in the limo and has fallen into a vivid and fantastical dream.

  ‘Sugar, no milk,’ Sharrick says.

  The doctor adds a spoon of sugar to Sharrick’s cup, and milk to his own. Then he stirs them with separate spoons.

  ‘I don’t have a sweet tooth,’ he says. ‘But I could never have tea black.’

  He holds out the cup with black tea and sugar and Sharrick automatically takes it. He sips, wincing because it is still not sweet enough for his taste but he doesn’t ask for more sugar.

  ‘I need to know about the work you did. With Tracey.’

  ‘I’ll be in my office,’ Olive says. ‘This is for your ears only.’

  Then she turns and leaves Sharrick alone with the man who tortured him for more than twelve years.

  Chapter Forty

  NEVA

  ‘Rent’s due again tomorrow,’ Daz says.

  As though anticipating her arrival, Daz is waiting by the stairs as Neva comes in the front door.

  ‘Yes. I know,’ she says. She smiles. ‘I have it for you. I’ll just go upstairs and put my coat away. I’ll bring it to the living room in a minute.’

  Daz smiles back. Neva knows that he thinks she is a good tenant. They barely see her and she pays on time. If only they knew what she really was? Would Daz feel so comfortable knowing she had an arsenal of weapons hidden in her room?

  Daz goes into the living room and Neva hears him switch on the television. A short time later, she comes downstairs and goes in the room holding a wad of cash in a white envelope.

  ‘Six months again?’ he says.

  Neva nods.

  Daz takes the envelope. His eyes show avarice. Neva thinks he had been planning to increase the rent but has weighed this up against her reliability and decided to leave things as they are. She was prepared for the greed though, and had planned to deal with it diplomatically. It is a relief that this obstacle has not come up. Dealing with normal people is harder than dealing with killer
s. At least you know where you are with someone when they are trying to murder you.

  ‘Have a great evening,’ she says. Then she goes back to her room.

  Inside, she locks the door and pulls her guns from their hiding places. Even though they haven’t been used, she begins her weekly ritual of cleaning the weapons. She’s soothed by the routine, as though this task is a touchstone to her true nature. She meditates while she polishes the barrel of the Uzi. But she doesn’t repeat the mantra of old. These days, she has her own chant. She tells herself how she can be free. She promises herself revenge.

  There is a knock on the door and Neva hides her weapons under the duvet of the single bed. She opens the door and finds Marie there.

  ‘Hi. Just wondered if you wanted takeaway as we’re ordering?’

  This is the first time they’ve asked her this question, and Neva knows they have takeout once a week.

  ‘What are you getting?’

  ‘Chinese.’

  ‘Lovely,’ says Neva. ‘A quarter crispy duck would be great!’

  ‘I’ll call you down when it arrives.’

  Neva closes the door, wondering about Marie’s sudden friendliness.

  Forty minutes later, Marie calls upstairs. Neva has finished cleaning her guns and has hidden them again. She now leaves her room and goes downstairs. Marie has put some candles on the kitchen table and laid four places.

  ‘Expecting company?’ Neva says.

  ‘Yeah. My brother Anthony is visiting. He’ll be staying in the spare room. Red or white?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Wine,’ says Marie.

  ‘I prefer red.’

  Marie places a bottle of merlot on the table alongside an average bottle of pinot grigio. Neva smiles a little at this. Pinot is always the choice of someone who knows nothing about wine. Both bottles are screw tops, although the choice of red isn’t a bad one – Chilean, and a respectable brand that has a consistent quality.

  Daz comes into the kitchen followed by Anthony. He introduces her and they all sit while Marie dishes out the food. The wine flows and Neva enjoys this normal company despite herself. Anthony is cute; under normal circumstances she would have made him a one-night stand. But you don’t crap where you eat, and so she doesn’t encourage his flirting and pretends not to notice.