The place certainly existed to Marr, as he stood in one of the cells. He seethed with rage – the irrepressible emotion only exasperated by the silent indifference emanating from the two bleeders standing before him; arms clasped behind their backs, completely unaffected from the tirade of abuse spewing from Marr’s mouth. Most people would be too unnerved to even comprehend hurling insults at a couple of bleeders, especially within their base of operations – but Marr wasn’t most people.
“So, I ask again, how the fuck did this happen?” he asked through gritted teeth, pointing to the mass of butchered flesh that used to be Alon Reid. “Your job was to question him, not cut him to ribbons like some wet-behind-the-ears butcher’s apprentice on his first day.”
The bleeders slowly turned their heads in unison to the former investigator. Reid lay in a bloodied heap. What remained of his clothing hung off him in tatters, his most exposed extremities mostly devoid of skin. His eyes had been gouged out of their sockets; the raw holes stared out at the trio almost in accusation. His lips had been cut off and Marr could see that the majority of his teeth had either been drilled or pull out at the root. Marr soon averted his eyes from the horror; unable to maintain his gaze on the mess.
This was going to take some fixing, he thought to himself. He suspected Faulks had a hand in this nightmare; he’d been quite keen to give Reid to the bleeders based on piss-weak accusations. The Proxy was becoming more and more unhinged the longer this Moretti business dragged on.
The bleeders fixed their gaze on Marr once more. Their eyes peered at him from behind their surgical masks; completely devoid of any comprehension of what their handiwork had caused. For their own self-preservation, they were lucky none of their sadistic tools were close to hand, as Marr would be more than tempted to send them to join Reid in whatever fiery hell the investigator was now languishing in.
“Much to our disappointment,” one of them said in that flat, emotionless voice they all seemed to have. “We did not anticipate his heart failing as it did. We had such high hopes of him lasting a little longer.” They both turned to look at Reid, with as close to regret as Marr assumed they were capable of.
He laughed bitterly. “You’ve got to be kidding?” He approached Reid’s body and knelt down beside it. He immediately regretted getting so near to the corpse; the smell of shit and blood was more prominent this close. But he chose not to rise to his feet – he would be damned if he was giving the two of them the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort. Instead, he turned his head to face them, sucking in a quick breath to help suppress the urge to vomit from the putrid stench coming off Reid like heat. “Did you try and remove his heart with a blunt hatchet – beginning at his ass – to have a closer look. I may not fully understand your craft, as macabre as it is, but I’m not fucking stupid. You were ordered to kill him, weren’t you?”
“We are not at liberty to discuss the nature of our interrogation,” the bleeder replied calmly.
He stood up, knowing he wasn’t going to get any answers from the two sadists and made for the door. He needed to get as far away from the bleeders as possible – for their sakes. He desperately needed fresh air; the place was so thick with the reek of disinfectant; he was struggling to breathe and he was beginning to feel light-headed. Also, the mood he was in if he remained where he was, he was sorely tempted to triple the room’s current body-count. Yet more problems lay on his doorstep; this new addition provided by the two scalpel-happy sociopaths in front of him, completely incapable of understanding and considering the greater good.
“Do you wish to take the body, or may we be permitted to carry out further tests on it. Though dead, he may prove…”
Marr felt something inside him snap. In a heartbeat, he rushed over, pulling out a curved blade from within his coat, and grabbed the nearest bleeder by the collar, pressing cold steel against his pale throat.
In an equally impressive display of speed, the other bleeder whipped out a scalpel, resting the small razor-sharp blade against the flesh of his neck, he knew the carotid artery lay. One quick flick of the wrist would mean death in an instant; the room quickly washed in his blood.
“Please release my colleague,” the bleeder asked, in a similar tone one would use if asking a guest in your home if they would like a cup of tea. He noticed this one was female, though her dullness of tone was similar to her partner’s.
They stood there, bathed in artificial light and the aftermath of Reid’s misery, amidst the stench of disinfectant and blood. Marr glared at them, murder blazing from his eyes – a complete contrast to the bleeders, who merely returned his anger with expressions of abstract curiosity. The female bleeder cocked her head to the side, studying him.
Thankfully, their impasse was interrupted, as the door opened. It was Faulks.
“What the fuck is going on here? Marr, let him go,” Faulks ordered.
Marr glanced over to the Proxy, then back to the bleeder. He grimaced as his rage began to subside, only to be replaced with frustration. He released his grip on the bleeder and pushed him back a few paces He concealed his weapon. The female bleeder flicked her eyes to the Proxy who narrowed his eyes in warning. She slowly drew her eyes back to Marr, as though deciding what to do. Her colleague placed a hand on her arm and gently eased the scalpel away from Marr’s neck. She blinked, as though snapping out of a trance and slipped the scalpel inside her overalls.
Faulks broke the awkward silence, which had replaced the stand-off. He addressed Marr. “I see you’re not happy with the results,” Faulks said, stating the obvious. “I could hear you bawling like a petulant child from the elevator.”
“You could say that,” Marr said, dryly, still struggling to compose himself. “I knew Reid wasn’t working out for you, but I didn’t think he needed chopping up like firewood.”
Faulks placed a clammy hand on his shoulder. He was finally thankful for the stench of disinfectant – tempering the Proxy’s cologne. He thought about grabbing his scrawny arm and snapping it in two, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and sighed.
“You think I wanted this?” He pointed to the corpse. Marr noted there was an absence of remorse… or even disgust on the Proxy’s face. “If that fucking idiot had done his job, I wouldn’t be forced to take drastic measures.” He waved a hand at the investigator. “At least this way, we can inform Prime Vonn Investigator Reid was a Sapien-Republic turncoat. A loose end all tied up in a pretty bow.”
Marr shook Faulks’ hand off his shoulder. “You think this solves everything? What about Reid’s partner, Hall? She’s been sniffing a little too close to our business of late. Sound familiar? Look how the last intrepid, poke-nosed cop, who got a little too close for comfort, turned out? Six months of complete and utter anarchy. All because you can’t help playing with your toys, instead of pulling the trigger quick and being done about it.”
Faulks’ face took on a deep purple, his rage evident from Marr’s short tone. “Don’t you start getting insubordinate with me, you little shit. Do you know who you speak to with that mouth of yours? The Proxy, second only to the Prime.” He pointed down at Reid. His eye was drawn to one of the Proxy’s veins; throbbing on his temple. “Just get this fucking mess fixed before I make any rash decisions about your place within the Inner-Sanctum.”
Marr had stepped too far; he knew it, but he didn’t care. “Do you know where I’ve just come from?” he asked, diverting the subject of his ‘place within the Inner-Sanctum’. “The precinct. Reid’s underling, Hall, has just informed her Captain Alexandra Moretti is the woman.”
The news took the wind from Faulks’ sails, pacifying his rage. “Leave us,” he ordered the bleeders, waving a dismissive hand to them. They complied, nodding their heads and leaving the room. The Proxy waited until they’d closed the door, then peered at Marr; his eyes bloodshot. “If she’s told her captain… that makes things difficult. Is there any chance we can bring them on board?”
Marr shook his head. “I gave Hall
the opportunity to unburden herself while we were in the captain’s office. She decided to hold her silence until I’d left, before spilling her guts to Mercer.”
“Hmm… what about the captain? Is he pliant?”
“No, not with this. In the past, we’ve been able to subtly manipulate the direction of some of his investigations, whenever there was a chance it could interfere with our operations. This is different. It’s too big, too obvious. Besides, he doesn’t hold rep’s from NewHaven in a particularly bright light. He’s going to take the information to his superiors… to command.”
A glimmer of hope began to gleam in the corners of the Proxy’s eyes. “We have creatures placed within command…” He rubbed his jaw, thinking.
Marr was beginning to lose his patience. “If we let Mercer pass this information on, we run the risk of exposure. Not every member of police command is in our pocket,” he said, raising a hand in irritation. “If the web grows too large, it becomes weaker, with too many loose ends to tie up. I suggest we take this to the Prime.”
Faulks stared at him, nodding. He turned away, sighing audibly. “The Prime won’t be pleased with our current predicament,” he said.
Marr rolled his eyes. “Really? The way things have transpired of late; I’d expect the Prime to understand. Everything is not entirely in our hands – we can’t be everywhere at once.”
“That’s not strictly true,” the Proxy said, quietly.
“What do you mean?”
The Proxy took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. His eyes flitted briefly to the body of Reid, before closing. He began to pace. “The Prime is a busy man, Marr. Most of his time is spent keeping our machine well oiled. I’ve taken it upon myself to only divulge certain aspects of the hunt for the woman to him.”
This didn’t sound good. He could feel what little hold they had of the situation begin to slip through his fingers. “What exactly does the Prime know?” he asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like Faulks’ response.
The Proxy’s expression darkened. Marr detected a hint of shame and nervousness. “He doesn’t know the woman is Moretti…”
Whatever fucked up answer Marr had been expecting, not in his wildest dreams could he imagine this. “For the love of fuck, you’ve got to be kidding me?” Marr exclaimed, his initial surprise quickly morphing into a red-hot rage. “It’s been six months. Why?”
“When Sapien-Republic first reared its ugly heads – staging their ‘peaceful protests’ – I tried to convince the Prime to put the threat down quickly before it got out of hand. As you know, we conduct certain operations, which are necessary for the continued survival of Sanctum-One. If information regarding our activities got into the hands of those fucking firebrands, they would have a field day with it. I suggested the best course of action would be to apprehend the leaders and eliminate them… but, he wouldn’t listen. He just wasn’t convinced they posed a threat. They are a cancer on the very civilisation the Prime created for us. If they had their way, they would destroy it all, hurtling us back to the dark days.”
Marr remained silent. He glared at the Proxy, his hands balling into fists. He felt betrayed. He thought the Proxy trusted him with everything. It would seem not, apparently. The Proxy continued.
“Refused by the Prime, I was left with no choice. I couldn’t just sit there and let it happen. So, as Proxy – the Prime’s second – I undertook an operation, off the books, using the Inner-Sanctum’s contacts within the SPD to lure out Sapien-Republic’s leaders. For a time, we managed to grab a few of their lower-ranking operatives, giving them to the bleeders to play with. We obtained some information, but not enough to go on.”
Faulks walked over to the far wall on the opposite side of the room, leaning his back against it. “They caught on to our tactics quickly. We began to pull in less and less of them until we were left with nothing. As time drew on, their following began to grow, their ‘protests’ rising in number.”
There was no denying it; over the last year, Marr had noticed a steady increase in rallies by the so-called peaceful protest organisation. There weren’t many incidents of violence, only a few – which was natural when a group of passionate liberals were situated in close proximity to the authorities. But it was getting more and more difficult to exact curfews when dealing with thousands of people descending on one venue at a specific time. There weren’t enough officers to deal with such a high magnitude of people, crammed into such small areas and venues. Aside from this, there was one thing that was bothering Marr.
“Why wasn’t I involved?” he asked.
Faulks closed his eyes, as though the question physically hurt him. “You are my brightest and best, Marr. If I’m being honest, I excluded you because I thought there was an almost certain chance the Prime would discover my off-the-book operation and punish those, especially of high-ranking authority, accordingly. I didn’t want to lose my best operative.”
Marr opened his arms out wide, his face contorted in a sarcastic sneer. “And here I am anyway.” He dropped his hands by his side. He was begrudgingly thankful the Proxy was coming clean with him. If he’d left it any longer, who knows what irreparable damage might be caused. In spite of this unburdening of the soul – of which he had no choice – it still didn’t answer the most important question. “Where does Moretti come into this?”
Faulks looked sheepish. “A few members, with knowledge of my activities, began to sense weakness in my position as Proxy, like sharks who’d caught the scent of blood in the water. When Moretti surfaced, I thought I could use her to convince the Prime to use a more militant approach to Sapien-Republic, and at the same time strengthen my position as Proxy by removing the vultures… so much has been sacrificed.”
The last part caught Marr. There was something Faulks was holding back. He thought of all the Inner-Sanctum members that had been killed in the last six months. This wasn’t good. “What do you mean by ‘removing the vultures’? What have you done?”
The Proxy looked uncharacteristically flustered. Marr knew the man to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but it was generally bouts of controlled rage and anger. This new side of the Proxy, opening up like a flower blooming in spring, was beginning to give him cause for concern.
“I’ve known of the woman’s exact whereabouts for quite some time. I’ve been using her to increase pressure on the Prime for months…to change his mind on the real threat.”
Marr was lost for words. For six months, the Proxy had been using Moretti to dispose of rivals and possible threats to his position. He hadn’t just used Moretti for his own ends… he’d also used Marr. He could feel the bile of fury rise up from his guts, a feeling he’d kept caged for so long.
Well, no more.
He swept across the room and grabbed the Proxy by the collar, hoisting him off his feet so that his expensive leather shoes dangled a full foot above the ground.
“You fucking idiot,” he screamed. “I’ve been tying myself in loops for six… fucking… months.”
“It was for the greater good,” Faulks choked.
Marr almost laughed. “The greater good? Sanctum’s or yours?”
Confusion reigned supreme on the Proxy’s face, which was growing redder by the second. Faulks’ veins bulged on his forehead, which was slick with sweat. “What do you mean? Put me down before you do something you’ll regret.”
Marr gripped him tighter, his knuckles going white, the bones threatening to burst through his skin. He let go, dropping Faulks to the ground. He landed hard on his ass. He remained on the ground, coughing and spluttering as Marr took a few steps back, disgusted with his boss.
Marr pointed at the body of Investigator Reid. “It’s not the only reason you let Moretti murder members of the Inner-Sanctum, was it?” He wanted to hear it from Faulks’ own mouth.
The guilt which flashed across the Proxy’s eyes told Marr all he needed to know. He left Faulks alone in the room, slamming the door behind him. He wasn’t surprised to find the two bleede
rs waiting quietly outside.
“Bag the body and have it sent to my cruiser,” he commanded, striding away from them, his need for fresh air having never been more desperate.
XXV
On the east side of the city – three miles from the merchant district – lay the projects; a collection of ramshackle, three-story apartment complexes, built into a grid system spanning four square miles. Though hardly squalor, its occupants did lack the luxury of convenience enjoyed by their counterparts at the city centre; the market quadrant; leisure facilities; and more prominent schooling academies. For those not fortunate enough to be able to afford a vehicle of their own, the city provided a shuttle service which ran at thirty-minute intervals.
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