by Gareth Otton
PROXY
by Gareth Otton
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2018 by Gareth Otton, all rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author.
Cover design by Gareth Otton
Prologue
Wednesday, 16th June 2004
02:14
Tyres screeched and Dinah winced.
Police cars waiting at her destination while she transported an unconscious body was too much even for her. Survival instinct forced her to brake hard. Tyre screeching was the natural result. It was a rookie mistake and a good way to get caught, but she hadn’t done this sort of thing in a while and was rusty.
She swore in her native Hebrew and took a second to calm herself. She was better than this.
Closed eyes. A deep breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Calm.
She assessed the situation.
Three police cars parked outside the old, red-brick office. The parking was neat, so it hadn’t been a hasty arrival. Maybe they weren’t waiting for her. Maybe she had time to act.
She threw the van into reverse and backed onto the main road. The midnight traffic in that part of Cardiff was non-existent, so she didn’t cause a scene as she drove away.
A scattering of cars littered the carpark of a nearby industrial estate, enough that she risked being seen, but her van would attract less attention amongst other vehicles. Just to be safe she parked in the shadow of the large sign at the entrance.
She glanced at the unconscious shape in the back. The drugs should keep him out for another hour, but she didn’t like to leave him. What other choice was there? She stepped from the van and locked it behind her.
It was an old, white Transit. No automatic lock to beep and flash the indicators. Just the way she liked it.
Satisfied it was secure, she walked back the way she had come.
This was her first job for her new employer and she was nervous. That was not like Dinah. Twelve years in the Israeli Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations, the Mossad, had long since removed the butterflies from her stomach. She thought herself unfazed by anything life had to offer. That was until she met her new employer.
He made the consequences of getting on his bad side all too clear and she had no intention of failing. More than her life was riding on it. If it was just her life, she could handle it. She had long since lost count of the times she risked her life for a job. Her life was cheap.
But Moshe, Adam and Gabriella. Her husband, son and daughter. Their lives were everything.
She approached the building from the rear, keeping to the shadows and remaining vigilant. The brightness of a mild summer night did nothing to aid her efforts, but she was good at this, born for it. She was confident she hadn’t been spotted when she reached the old, cheap fire door. It took a full five minutes of fighting against rust and disuse before she managed to pick the lock.
The hallway beyond smelled of fake lemon and furniture polish, a remnant of its recent occupants. The building had been in use as little as a week before, famously so. Her employer’s forced purchase of this building made national headlines. The original owners didn’t want to sell, the tenants didn’t want to leave, yet the sale went through regardless. There were talks of political scandals and back room deals. Dinah didn’t care other than for what it said about her employer.
She'd researched him after his threats. He proved himself on their initial contact and she knew his threats weren’t idle, but she wanted to know more. Her standard searches turned up no results, but when she looked deeper she found a different story.
He had done a fine job of hiding himself, but his name carried weight. Some contacts Dinah spoke with were too terrified to talk beyond saying she should stop looking. Strange, because they were not the sort of people who scared easy.
By the time she gave up on her research she was terrified. That a man like him could exist was beyond understanding. There should be an international task force with the dedicated purpose of wiping him out.
The sound of voices, muffled by the fire door at the end of the corridor, called her from her thoughts. Dinah could see shapes moving through the squares of glass in the door, their silhouettes outlined against the glow from the streetlights washing in from the carpark.
She crept closer, keeping herself in the deep black of the corridor and daring to crack the door open, letting in the voices.
“…good men. We’ll all come through for you, sir.”
Dinah recognised the sound of thinly veiled fear in the rushed words. She’d heard it enough over the years.
“Of course you will. I never thought any different, sergeant.”
This second voice made her nerves tingle. It was surprisingly deep to come from such a small frame and it always had that mocking, amused tone. She placed the accent as East London, but it was muddied enough to show he no longer called the English capital home.
He was a short man, thin to the point of malnourishment. His sharp cheek bones, bald head and sunken eyes leant him a sickly appearance. That deep voice told a different story.
As with the first time she had seen him, he held the ruin of his left arm to his side. Withered and twisted, it ended in fingers that resembled gnarled twigs entangled in a complicated knot.
He looked unhealthy, but he didn’t seem to care.
Even outlined against the dim light she could see his wicked smile. His skeletal body hid under a tailored suit that helped improve his appearance. But, the true attention grabber was his voice.
That damned, deep, hypnotic voice that so terrified her and was talking again.
“Is she now?”
“What was that, sir?” the sergeant asked after a slight hesitation, glancing at the five, uniformed men behind him.
“I wasn’t talking to you, sergeant.”
The sergeant clearly wanted to ask who he was talking to. He wisely remained silent.
Her employer spoke again.
“Eavesdropping is she? How rude. But, if she has good news then I suppose I can forgive her.”
He turned his head and looked directly at Dinah. There was no way he could see her. Surely.
“Come out, Mrs Mizrahi. We’re all friends here.”
Shit. How the hell did he know?
Again she felt the grip of fear, a foreign feeling for so long she didn’t know how to handle it. She pushed it down, swallowed and then pressed harder against the door.
“What the…?” one policeman asked, surprised by her entrance. He was younger than the rest, not so seasoned.
Dinah ignored him and looked at her employer. “I didn’t know if it was safe to show myself.”
He laughed, not unkindly, but neither was it a comforting sound.
“You don’t need to worry about these men. They’re here to discuss a new working arrangement. Isn’t that right gentlemen?” Ignoring their nodded agreement, he asked, “Did you bring him?”
She hesitated one final time, glancing to the police before nodding.
“Good. Did he give you any trouble?” She shook her head. “Really? I thought he might have been… difficult.”
She knew what he referred to but couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it. “I took him by surprise. He… they… weren’t ready for me.�
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Her employer looked impressed.
“Wonderful. You’re every bit as talented as I hoped. I’d heard you were the best at what you…” His words trailed off and he waved his good hand dismissively. “Never mind. Where is he? Have you got him stored away back there?”
Dinah shook her head. “Half a mile down the road. I didn’t want to bring him here with police parked outside.”
Her employer was nodding. “Of course. Wise. It would do me no good to lose my prize before I’ve had chance to see him.” He turned to the young policeman who had jumped so hard when Dinah appeared. “You… what was your name?”
“Mark… Uh… Mark Patterson.”
“Why don’t you go with Dinah to collect my delivery?”
The young man looked to his sergeant for approval, to which he received only a sharp, almost panicked nod.
Mark’s feet dragged as he followed Dinah out of the building and they were on the street before he dared to speak.
“Uh… What are we going to get?”
“My van.”
“Right.” Another few seconds of silence before, “Um… Sorry to ask. But… what’s in the van?”
Dinah sighed. She didn’t like bringing unknowns to a crime scene, especially when those unknowns were policemen and the crime in question was one she had committed. Not for the first time, she was without a choice.
“A man.” She’d travelled two steps before she realised he’d stopped walking. “Come on. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
Mark didn’t speak again until he was in the van. He opened the door as though it were a viper that would bite if he wasn’t quick. He took a deep breath, snatched the handle and jumped in before his nerve could fail him. Said nerve lasted only until he looked at their cargo.
“Oh shit. What the fuck? I thought… Jesus.”
Dinah thought he might cry. Poor kid. Clearly didn’t know what he was getting in to.
“Mark.” He didn’t respond. “Mark!” Still nothing other than staring and cursing.
She slapped him.
Hard.
She finally had his attention. He turned back to her with wide eyes and she met that gaze levelly.
“We good here?” she asked.
He swallowed and nodded. Dinah started the engine. She wanted tonight over with.
They drove back to the building in silence and this time she pulled into the carpark. No other buildings looked into that carpark so they were safe to move the body.
It took more coaxing and the threat of another slap to make Mark touch the unconscious man. It had been a hell of a struggle getting the body in the van, Mark’s six foot three rugby player build made it much easer getting the body out.
The other police held the door open for them as her employer cackled gleefully.
“Just there will be fine,” he said and they let the unconscious man down. “So, where were you when all this went down?”
It took a few seconds to realise that he was talking to himself again. His eyes focused on something above the unconscious man.
“That’s not much of an excuse. There are three of you and you couldn’t keep him safe from one little woman. I would offer you the chance to join my menagerie, but… well, you’re pathetic, aren’t you? What talents do you have?”
He listened for a few seconds, then laughed. “Pathetic. They mean nothing to me. Still, I’m in a generous mood. Join me and I’ll let you live… or whatever you call your kind of existence. Otherwise…” he left the threat hanging.
Though Dinah couldn’t see who he was talking to, she knew he wasn’t mad. He had proved himself before and she would never forget it.
“Really? That’s a shame. Never mind. Easy come, easy go.”
He moved so fast he was a blur. Her employer’s good hand stretched out and suddenly he was holding a woman by the throat, her feet not touching the floor. She struggled against his choking hand and lashed out. She did no damage, and he just laughed.
Suddenly the woman stopped thrashing and stiffened, her arms and legs going straight and every muscle tensing up. She started to glow from within, an eerie red and orange glow that grew ever brighter until the orange turned to white and Dinah had to cover her eyes. A second later there were spots in her vision and blackness beyond that. When her eyes returned to normal, the woman was gone, her employer had another shape by the throat, a man this time, and the whole thing started again.
A few seconds later he did it a third time and then he was done.
Dinah was stunned. She had seen evidence of his gifts before, but she had never seen the figures. What were those people? Ghosts as he claimed?
“Oh shit. Mother of god. What the fuck?”
It was Mark again, babbling to himself as he struggled to make sense of what he’d seen.
“Get him out of here,” her employer ordered. “In fact, all of you go. I’ll talk to you later.”
No one needed convincing. They turned and rushed for the door, Dinah being no exception. She stopped when he called her name though.
“The money will be in your account by the time you wake up. There’ll even be a bonus for you. This was good work.”
“Thank you,” she said woodenly, eager to be away and not mollified by the huge payday waiting for her. The threat may be what forced her to work, but the compensation was immense.
“No problems. Keep up the good work and I see you being a rich woman soon.”
He casually reached for the unconscious figure. The man must have weighed at least fifteen stone but her employer lifted him as easily as if he were filled with straw.
“You can leave me now. I have things to do and you won’t want to see them.”
He couldn’t have been more right.
She was too proud to run, but she power walked to her van. She got in, fired up the engine and nearly cried out when her lights illuminated her employer standing over the body that was laid over a table in the reception. He had a knife in his hand and he was talking to himself again… or to ghosts, maybe.
Dinah had seen enough. She pulled out of the carpark and drove, soon going seventy in a thirty mile per hour zone and not caring. She needed to be away from that place, from that man.
But where to go?
She felt dirty and knew she couldn’t go home. She needed time alone and a scalding shower.
As she drove she couldn’t help hating herself for what she'd done. She hated herself more for the knowledge of what she still had to do. There were more nights like this to come. A lot more. She would lose a little of her soul with every one.
Dinah drove into the night and the tears finally started. They wouldn’t stop until morning. They would be her last for a long time.
1
Sunday, 15th November 2015
22:06
The typical patriotic pride of a Welshman can be hard to maintain. This night’s horizontal rain was making it harder than ever. The heavy drops flew directly at Tad, bouncing off stinging, cold skin, soaking him in spite of the hood drawn tight about his pale face.
Keeping his eyes open was struggle enough, but navigation was impossible. All Tad could see through the wet blurriness was the vague glow of the illuminated, ancient walls of Cardiff Castle.
His supposedly waterproof coat kept out the rain about as well as a string vest. Wet and clingy, it looked about as good on him as that same string vest. Tall and skinny, Tad had never been one for close fitting clothes. He looked enough like a stick already.
His real irritation was that he alone of the four in his group was affected by the rain. His companions had come to an understanding with the weather, agreeing not to bother the rain if it in return wouldn’t bother them.
He hated them for that.
“I never appreciated rain when I was alive. It’s rather beautiful now I think on it. The way it dances with the wind… magnificent.”
The voice belonged to Charles Dickens.
Not the Charles Dickens, but a ten year older
model who was often put out that the other Charles Dickens hogged all the glory. As one of his oldest friends, Tad normally got on well with Charles. Right then, Tad was prepared to bring about his second death.
“You have a point,” said a second voice, equally unbothered by the weather. Tony appeared to be a fourteen-year-old boy of Chinese ancestry. However, appearances are deceiving when dealing with a ghost. He was fourteen when he died, but was now two years older than Tad's twenty-seven. “I never thought about it before.”
“Of course you didn’t,” said Tad’s third ghostly companion. “You only have your mind on one thing. You should be locked up.”
Miriam, a short blonde in her early forties, had joined Tad three years earlier and had been on Tony’s case ever since. A detective inspector for Cardiff Police in life, she did her utmost to continue her calling from beyond the grave.
Give any teenage boy invisibility and let him walk through walls and you won't win any prizes for guessing what he’d do next. Tony had been dead for fifteen years and he'd put his ghostly powers to what he considered good use ever since.
“You’re just jealous because you haven’t learned to have fun. One of these days you should come with me. Some new college-girls have moved in down the street and they look great in the shower. You know you’ll like it.”
Like any good parent, not that he was their parent, Tad knew the perfect moment to intercede and stop an argument escalating. Miriam had been in a civil partnership before her tragic demise, and Tony never failed to impose his perverted brand of lesbianism on her relationship. Nothing annoyed her more. Tad had to act fast.
“Everyone, knock it off. Don’t forget why we’re here. You’re supposed to be keeping an eye out because I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Everyone? What did I do?” Charles demanded, his moustache twitching.
“You’re trying to annoy me with talk of the rain. Congratulations, it worked.”
“Well I never,” Charles huffed. “I would never intentionally annoy you, Thaddeus.”
Had Tad not been shivering, fighting a headache, and still nervous about what they might be heading into, he may have felt guilty at the tone of hurt behind Charles’ words. As it was, he ignored the ghost and kept walking. That was a mistake.