If I could reach my pocket I could grab the knife that’s still sitting there, but my arms are threaded through the back of the chair and there’s just no way. What a waste, I think to myself angrily.
"There, now. Tell me what you’ve been doing at Jonathan Clarence’s house, Curtis," she says smoothly, her heels clicking on the concrete floor just out of sight.
"I think my leg is broken," I say, ignoring her.
"I’ll be sure to have a medic look at it when we’re done here. But you need to answer my questions first. What can you tell me about Clarence, or the Duke, as he likes to be known?”
Silence. I ponder it for a moment as she waits for my answer. I sigh and hang my head, as if searching the ground for answer. What can I tell her that will keep her happy but won’t hurt any of the people that I know will be affected by anything I reveal here and now?
"You don’t owe them anything, Curtis, so don’t make this difficult for both of us. Just tell me what you know, and we can get you cleaned up and that leg looked at. They haven’t done anything to help you at all, you know?" she says sounding a little more sincere than before. "I mean, don’t you think it’s odd that I got the phone call of where you would be at exactly what time in order to pick you up? Does that not indicate to you that perhaps someone is pulling strings that you’re unaware of, and you’re nothing more than a piece of their intricate game?"
I don’t want to go down that line of thought but immediately can’t help it. The Duke is the only person who knew what our mission was and where I would be. Admittedly, he probably didn’t realise that we’d be putting the plan into action so soon, but he knew that at some point I’d be visiting the papers. Christ, he even warned Ella to keep well away. He can’t be trusted, I know that for sure, but she wouldn’t be asking questions about him if she already knew the answers. I’m wracking my brain desperately for some out, something that I can tell her to keep her happy without doing more damage. But what can I possibly say?
"Curtis, tell me what I need to know, and I can make sure that you and Ella are safe. I know that you two are an item, and that you’ll do anything to protect her." I would smirk if my face didn’t hurt so much.
"How could you possibly keep her safe?" I ask incredulously.
"Well, it doesn’t take much to get someone a change of ID, a passport and some kind of witness protection plan. That’s got to be a better option than being at the beck and call of someone who probably doesn’t care whether you live or die in the attempt to get what they want." She makes a good point. Isn’t this the solution that I’ve been looking for? Trying to get Ella to leave the Society and run somewhere, anywhere with me?
"Yes, that’s right," the woman says smoothly, filling the silence, "you two could get away from all this if you would just tell me anything you can about what the Duke is doing."
"You know," I say suddenly, "the problem is, I can’t really tell you anything because I don’t know what’s going on. I was asked to give a USB stick to someone. I went along with it because, well, why not?"
Telling her the truth of what I do know can’t hurt, I realise. "The reporter I gave the information to opened it up and there was evidence that Carlton Munday had been the Head of Research in a place called ‘FADE’. They used to do experiments on Augurs. Drug them, electrocute them and then see if it would affect their powers. Kids, old people, you name it. It was barbaric, and Munday was in charge of it all," I say monotonously. I don’t know whether it’s the head injury or something else, but abruptly, like a flash of lightning, it hits me as to where I know this woman from. "But then, you probably already knew that, didn’t you, Miss Banks?"
It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch —the voice, the setting, the clicking of heels —but the vision I had when Mumbe seemed to be testing me, what feels like a lifetime ago but was only yesterday evening, came back to me. Now I don’t know whether what he showed me was part of his own memory or some kind of distorted vision of the future, but the Duke clearly said that Miss Banks was a threat.
There’s what I hope is a stunned silence. It goes on for quite some time and I can’t tell, in the darkness what her actual reaction is.
"I suppose," she finally says, "that you won’t tell me where you got that name from?"
"You wouldn’t believe me even if I did," I sneer.
"Curtis, I need you to work with me here. The fact that you know about FADE helps massively because you’ll understand why I’m actually trying to stop it from happening again, but so much worse," she sounds sincere, almost pleading.
"That makes no sense at all. I thought you were part of the government?" I ask.
"Yes, but I’m part of the government that is actually trying to create equality for Augurs, despite the many attempts at various groups to make sure that doesn’t happen."
"I still don’t get it. You said you thought I was a terrorist. How can you be trying to create equality for Augurs by holding me here?"
She sighs deeply and steps into the light, almost dead in front of me. Her dark hair is tied tightly into a bun, and she wears a skirt suit with a black blouse underneath. The only bit of colour on her is her shoes, which are high, shiny red things that look as lethal as she does. "I can’t tell you everything. I shouldn’t even really be revealing myself to you, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. You seem like a good kid, caught up in things that you don’t really understand."
"You got that right," I snort.
"I work for a part of the British government that includes anti-terrorism, something that the Magic Circle fall into. We call ourselves ATU —the Anti-Terror Unit. In order to give Augurs a chance at equality we need to put a stop to the idiots who are making it worse for themselves. But my job also includes an ongoing investigation about FADE that was never closed. A lot of people died when that facility went down, but it was never, ever part of the government. The funding came from outside sources, as did the personnel and everything they did." She walks towards me so that I can clearly see her face. Although I’m in the light and she’s still in the shadow I can see her dark irises. Her eyes are plaintive and earnest.
"So, if you had a stick which contained information on FADE, which somehow exposes Carlton Munday, well that’s going to make a lot of people ask a lot of questions, and I need to know the answers before they do."
"Why? Surely the investigation should be public, if there’s going to be one?" I ask, thinking clearly for once.
"Because right now there are a lot of people higher than me on the food chain who are proposing something that closely resembles FADE, but this time government funded. They don’t think it’s inhumane if it’s criminal Augurs being locked up, and they would be the perfect candidate for mental health ‘testing’," she makes inverted commas with her fingers. "Which, when you look at it is basically exactly what FADE were doing, except the drugs have different names and the electroshock therapy is considered treatment instead of experimentation."
I have no idea if what she is saying is true but despite myself I’m starting to feel like there’s a tiny chance she could be telling the truth.
"What would you do with the information if I told you where I got it from?"
"It depends on what it is you tell me. At worst it’s not going to help at all and I’ll be right where I started, stumbling in the dark and searching for the person who’s pulling all the strings. Between you and me, I think that it’s all connected. So, if you can tell me something that I don’t know that can point me in the direction of where to look, I’m going to investigate."
"I’ve got friends who are trusting me with their identities. If somehow they’re connected to this, I don’t want anything to happen to them," I say, trying to bargain with a chip I don’t really have.
"Curtis, it depends entirely on how deeply connected they are to FADE, or people that know about it. But I can promise that if they are innocent bystanders, like yourself, I’ll do what I can to keep them out of it."
"Weird way to treat an innocent bystander," I say nodding towards my leg, which feels worryingly numb. She sighs again, something that she sounds well-practised in.
"I’m sorry about Steve. Unfortunately, he was not my choice for bringing you in, but I had to work with what I had."
I should not trust her, I tell myself, but so much of what she’s saying rings true that I feel like I want to.
"Fine. Look, I got the data from the cyber criminal you mentioned, or at least I’m guessing that’s what he is. He seemed dodgy enough," I half shrug. She seems to look a little relieved to hear me say something that she actually wants to hear.
"Unfortunately, I don’t know his name, but it sounds like you already knew where he lived if you had people watching his house." The white lie can’t hurt. She nods once, a simple gesture that speaks volumes. The police coming round the corner right after we left was not a coincidence.
"And as for the Duke, well, I don’t really know what’s up with him. He told me to give the data to the reporter but the only reason I did it was because there was the promise that Carlton Munday might be exposed, and his determination to implement Anti-Magic and Anti-Augur laws everywhere seemed good enough reason to have him removed from his position. The man is trouble, and now he’s basically running the country it seems like all the more reason to get rid of him.
"I’m no rebel, but all the Augurs I know are good people, trying to live their lives and not be interfered with." Although all the Augurs I know are also mixed up with the Duke in some way or another, I think to myself. "Besides, if I could do anything to make my girlfriend’s life easier and stop her from hiding all the time, I’m prepared to do it."
The words tumble out of me, like an open tap, and I feel relieved to finally be able to tell someone something about it all. She seems to think about it for a moment, I imagine wondering what to do with me now that I’ve told her everything I know. Eventually she nods again and crosses her arms.
"Thank you, Curtis. That has been incredibly valuable. Now, let me get someone to look at your leg and you can be on your way," she turns around and makes to leave.
"Wait! That’s it? But what about Munday? And the Duke? What are you going to do about them?"
"That’s for me to know, Curtis. I’m just going to add our little interview here to my files and see if any of the information I have from you is now actionable. Believe me, I’m dying to be able to put someone behind bars, and if you’ve helped me to do that, well, all the better for your girlfriend." She leaves it at that and turns on her heel. Somewhere in the darkness I hear the electronic buzz of a security door opening and her heels clicking away.
As I sit there, alone in the damp room, I wonder to myself what the hell has happened. How did I get into this mess? Have I completely screwed it up for everyone by admitting that the Duke is involved? I can’t even remember if I mentioned him. I shake my head and swear under my breath, just as I hear the door open again.
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, laddie?" a Scotswoman says to me. She walks out of the darkness with a white lab coat on, a holdall in her right hand.
"Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was listening," I mutter miserably.
"Och, dinnae fash, lad, I’ll have you out of here in no time, okay?" the singsong voice comforts me, although I know I’m becoming altogether too trusting of strangers. Particularly ones that cause me injury and then come to patch it up later. Her auburn hair falls to just below her shoulders and her green eyes sparkle even in the dinginess of this place. I age her somewhere in her forties, but she could easily be older with a very good complexion. She opens her medical bag wide open, and I see an array tools, bandages and concoctions as well as syringes. She selects various items with efficiency and lifts my trouser leg to inspect the damage done, tutting under her breath a little. She orders me to do various things with it, which I find difficult but not impossible, and she cuts my wrists free so that I can stand and try and walk. I yelp out in pain when I do, but she tells me it’s a good thing I can still feel anything, which I should be encouraged by apparently.
"Well, I’ll bandage it up and give you some meds for the pain, but you’ll have to rest a few days," she says tersely.
"Really? Can I get that in writing?" I ask, dying for a few days of rest now. She laughs, a musical sound not unlike Ella’s but deeper and more mature.
"What’s your name, Doctor?" I ask as she goes about her business.
"You can call me Dr. Lingham, laddie, but I doubt you’ll be seeing me again any time soon, so don’t worry about remembering it," she replies. Once she finishes with my leg she gives me an injection, for the pain, just below the knee, which hurts almost as much as the leg does, then gives my cheek a full appraisal. By now I can feel that it’s swollen and bruised, but the blood has dried where the skin broke.
"That’s going to leave a mark for a few days," she says as she applies some clear, cold liquid to it, "but it looks worse than it is, so just be sure not to lie on it when you sleep, and the body will heal itself."
"Thanks, Doc. How’d you get mixed up with a bunch like this?" I venture to ask.
"What? The government? Well, I’m good at my job and they pay me well, so I’d consider it a natural progression, really," she shrugs. I suppose that’s what it is really —just another job to these people. And ‘the government’, the giant, unthinking machine that it is, isn’t always filled with bad people, I reason to myself. Just like all Augurs aren’t bad. Or good. My mind flickers back to Edward Clarence, who was ready to out all the members of the Society, and probably the Magic Circle too, just for some kind of revenge. I shake my head and then realise that she can see me doing it.
"What’s the internal debate about?" she says as she puts a plaster over the cut on my cheek.
"Ah, just trying to understand something is all," I sigh.
"Well, I say the best thing is to talk about it. Not to me, mind, but just to someone. No good bottling things up inside that wee head of yours," she says, offering me an arm so that she can escort me out of the room.
"Thanks," I say again, and she presses a button that was nearly invisible on the wall in order to let us out. Limping and leaning on her the whole way, she walks me down a corridor that the lift sits at the end of. I can’t help but feel excited to see it, knowing that I’m going to be out of here in a matter of minutes and then reunited with Ella once I’ve figured out how to get back home. I silently pray that she’s okay and hasn’t done something stupid, like call the police or the army or sent out a search party.
The corridor is a long thing with big glass windows on each side, most of which are completely pitch black, although there’s a light coming from one near the end. I realise it must be one-way glass where you can see in, but the subject can’t see out, probably a similar affair to the one that I was in only moments ago.
There’s another poor sod tied to a chair in the room and the sight gives me the chills. How can they possibly justify treating people like this? Oh, yeah. Affiliation with Augur Terrorism is all they currently need. I imagine with the dampness of the place that this operation has been out of business for a while, but thanks to Munday’s new law they’ve been bringing people in left, right and centre.
As we pass the window, I try and resist the urge to peer in, even though I’m sure I’m not supposed to be seeing anything. Hell, Dr. Lingham will probably get in heaps of trouble for not putting the sack back over my head before leaving the interview room. The unfortunately familiar figure of Miss Banks is inside, staring down her victim, evidently waiting for an answer.
But then I see who the prisoner is, and my heart stops dead in my chest.
Tied to the chair, head hanging limply but face still visible beneath his dark hair, is Jer.
CHAPTER 13
I stand right in the middle of the corridor and stare in horror through the glass. Dr. Lingham takes a moment to realise what has made me stop so abruptly.
"Oh, sorry, laddie but I can’
t have you interfering with interviews and government business. I’ll already be in trouble for breaking protocol and allowing you to see the examination rooms," she flusters about me, trying to pull me towards the lift.
"That’s my friend in there!" I say, trying not to shout and alert anyone more deadly than the doctor that I’ve seen something I shouldn’t have.
"Oh, gosh, well I’m sure they’ve got good reason to be holding him or he wouldn’t be here. Listen now, I need you to go home and rest your leg, remember? If you try and stop an official investigation you’ll be arrested and then there’s nothing I can do for you," she’s practically pleading with me to let it go, although she does it in as serious a voice as she can muster. I try to think quickly. What weapon do I have? Only the switch blade in my pocket, which honestly isn’t going to do much against the likes of Miss Banks and Sunglasses Steve, if he decides to show up suddenly. But Jer is an Augur so maybe he can do something I don’t know about and help get us out without losing our or anyone else’s lives.
The only Augur power I’ve known him to use is that ‘magic reading’ thing he can do, which isn’t going to help us here at all, plus he looks in a bad way.
Do I screw up the chance to grab Ella and run now that I’ve been freed, or do I leave Jer here at the mercy of these people? I only give myself a second to contemplate the second option, but really there’s no question. I have to help him.
Obviously, Miss Banks inside doesn't know what is going on behind her as it’s a one-way window, which gives me the element of surprise. Thinking on my feet I grab the doctor’s kit bag out of her hand before she has a chance to react and fling it open. I quickly scan the contents to see if there’s anything I can use and settle on a couple of syringes full of what I’m guessing is some kind of anaesthetic, praying that it’s not just a flu shot that will end up doing little more than annoying someone.
I hear a sound that I’ve only ever heard in shows on the TV: the click of a safety catch coming off and a gun being cocked. I look up to find the barrel of a Glock 17, standard-issue police and military weapon, pointing right at me in the steady hands of the Doctor. I remember reading that was what police were armed with somewhere, and the useless piece of information seems to surface now for no good reason at all.
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