The Creator

by Neil Carstairs

  London felt more like home to Devon than the miles of open country they had crossed during the train journey. That had been a foreign place to her. Fields with animals, woodland, villages and hamlets like places on the lid of a box of biscuits. Now she walked in a city, a place full of traffic and movement and noise. Pedestrians filled the pavements. People with skin colour of every possible shade and voices that spoke in dozens of languages. She let Connor lead as the buildings crowded closer. Her view narrowed to a view of the sky as strips of light grey. She had no idea how far they walked nor for how long. Finally, Connor turned into a narrow street, where the only traffic allowed came on foot or bicycle. Her son stopped in front of an anonymous brownstone building with a smoked glass frontage at ground level.

  ‘Is this it?’ Devon asked, looking to see if there was a company name on display.

  ‘Yes,’ Connor said, though he didn’t sound too sure of himself.

  Devon tried to see into the interior. There were pot plants, a few leather chairs, a reception desk and receptionist. A security guard looked back at her as if she represented public enemy number one.

  Connor pushed the door open before Devon could even think of stopping him. She hurried to catch him up in the air-conditioned interior as the guard barred his way. The guard looked at Connor and then at Devon. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked in a way that said he hoped he couldn’t.

  ‘I...’ Devon felt herself wilt under his gaze.

  ‘We’re here to see Douglas Congrave,’ Connor said.

  The guard switched his attention to Connor. The boy didn’t flinch as the guard frowned down at him. Devon held her breath for a moment before the guard said, ‘I don’t recognise the name.’

  ‘Maybe she does.’ Devon pointed at the receptionist.

  For a moment it looked like the guard wouldn’t let them pass. Connor gave him no choice as with a quick sidestep he approached the desk. ‘We’d like to see Douglas Congrave please,’ Connor said in the second before the security guard arrived alongside him.

  The receptionist looked at Connor over half-moon glasses. She had greying hair tied in a bun and thin, humourless lips. ‘Do you have an appointment?’ she asked.

  Which told Devon all she needed to know. Connor had a name from somewhere and the name belonged to a man who actually existed and worked in the building.

  ‘No,’ Connor said.

  ‘Then I’m afraid you will not be able to see Mr Congrave today.’

  ‘It’s important,’ Connor said. ‘We haven’t got much time.’

  The thin lips almost disappeared as the receptionist glared at Connor. ‘Mr Congrave is unable to see you.’

  The security guard put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. ‘Time to go,’ he said.

  Devon wanted to bat the man’s hand away but Connor said, ‘We’ll wait down the street. Tell him to come out and see us.’

  ‘Mr Congrave is too busy to see the likes of you,’ the guard said.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Devon snapped. She reached out to pull his hand from her son’s shoulder.

  The guard realised he had said the wrong thing and took a step back. ‘I mean people who walk in off the street.’ It didn’t sound like an excuse and Devon gave him a look that said she did not believe him either.

  ‘We’ve got important information,’ Connor said. ‘It’s about the project Mr Congrave is working on.’

  Both guard and receptionist were wary now, they didn’t want any accusations of racism thrown at them. The receptionist tapped at the keyboard on her desk and said, ‘Mr Congrave is extremely busy. I’ll see if I can get a message to him. Would you like to take a seat over there?’

  ‘No,’ Devon said before Connor could speak. ‘Like my son said, we’ll wait down the street. We know when we’re not welcome.’

  The security guard looked as if he wanted to apologise but knew anything he said would just make the situation worse. Instead, he led the to the door and opened it to allow Devon and Connor back out onto the pavement. Devon gave him another glare before she led Connor away.

  When they were far enough down the street she said, ‘So where did you get that name from?’

  ‘It just came to me,’ Connor said. The school called her son gifted but did not realise he had other gifts beyond the fact that he studied work three years ahead of his peers.

  ‘Like you knew which building he would be in?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  They reached the end of the street. Devon looked back to see the security guard had come out to watch them. She gave him a wave as Connor said, ‘Let’s sit over there.’

  He led Devon to the plinth of a statue to someone else she had never heard of. Devon didn’t want to ask Connor so she took the time to look around. Most of the buildings were occupied by banks either with names she had never heard of or national banks for countries she would never be able to find in an atlas.

  ‘It scares me sometimes,’ Devon said.

  ‘What does?’

  ‘These things you can do. Picking out names and places. Seeing people who aren’t there. Hearing voices.’

  Connor put his arm around her shoulder. ‘I’ve told you before,’ he said. ‘To me this is normal.’

  ‘I know, but all the same, when you walk halfway across London to find a man I never knew existed it’s scary.’

  ‘He may not come,’ Connor said.

  ‘You think?’ Devon gave her son a sidelong glance. ‘He’s an idiot if he doesn’t.’

  Connor laughed. ‘You know that and I know that but he might not.’

  ‘Them folks back in the building are scared I’ll scream racist,’ Devon said. ‘He’ll come out if only to make sure I can’t.’

  Watery sunlight filtered through the clouds and pollution to warm up the area they sat in. Devon leant back against the base of the statue and tried not to think about where they would stay that night. She didn’t know anyone who lived in London. Maybe Connor would be able to magic up the name of a cheap hotel.

  Devon began to enjoy the sunshine when a shadow stopped in front of them.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ Squinting up, Devon got the view of a slim man in his early sixties, dressed in a grey suit with a blue tie.

  Devon scrambled to her feet, aware of how stupid they must look with their cheap clothes and duffel bag. Next to her Connor stood a little more slowly. He looked around and identified the three younger men who were spaced out around them and stood back about three metres or so. Bodyguards or something similar.

  ‘It was Connor,’ Devon said as she pointed at her son.

  ‘Oh?’ The man called Congrave looked with interest at the boy. ‘I’d be interested to know how you know my name and where I work.’

  ‘I was told it,’ Connor said.

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘My spirit guide.’

  Devon thought Connor had blown it. Congrave gave him a long, slow smile and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Spirit guide?’

  ‘Yes.’ Connor didn’t flinch from the older man’s scrutiny.

  ‘And what else did your... spirit guide... tell you?’

  ‘Just that you can help because you will understand.’

  Congrave looked at Devon. ‘And you are?’

  ‘I’m his mother.’ She held her hand out instinctively. ‘Devon Shaw.’

  ‘Douglas Congrave.’ His handshake was firm and the smile he gave her genuine as he said to Connor, ‘And you are?’

  ‘Connor.’

  ‘Well, an interesting day just got more so,’ Congrave said. ‘From your accents, I’d say you’re from Birmingham. Yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ Devon said.

  ‘Did you travel down today?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And have you eaten recently?’

  ‘No,’ Devon said.

  ‘There’s a stall not far from here that my colleagues in the office tell me has the best street food in London. We can talk more there.’

  Devon hesitated. ‘How muc
h will it cost?’ she asked.

  ‘No need to worry. I’ll pay.’

  Devon exchanged a glance with her son as Congrave led them away from the statue. Connor kept his face neutral as Devon willed him to at least give her a clue. She had no idea what this man represented. She couldn’t trust any man. Especially a middle-aged white man who looked like he belonged to the Establishment.

  The food stall turned out to be an upmarket burger van selling the kind of food normally found on MasterChef. The prices were eye-wateringly high but Congrave didn’t bat an eyelid as he bought burgers and fries plus drinks for Devon, Connor and himself. The three escorts hung around nearby. They scanned the street and four-storey buildings for any threats.

  Devon watched them as she ate the first few bites of her food before she said, ‘Who are those men?’

  ‘Bodyguards,’ Congrave said.

  ‘Bodyguards for who? Us or you?’

  ‘Originally me, but I’d say all of us now.’

  Devon looked at the men again before turning back to Congrave. ‘So what are you?’

  ‘What am I?’ the question seemed to amuse Congrave. ‘I suppose I am a Civil Servant.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ Devon said. ‘We had social workers who called themselves Civil Servants.’

  ‘What do you want me to be?’

  The question stumped Devon for a moment. She didn’t want another social worker that was for sure but what did she want? Congrave seemed happy to wait for her reply. Thinking of Connor gave Devon the answer she needed.

  ‘I want you to be someone who understands Connor,’ she said.

  ‘Because he talks about spirit guides?’

  ‘That and other things.’

  Congrave looked at Connor. ‘How old are you Connor?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘And how long have you had a spirit guide?’

  ‘As long as I can remember.’

  ‘And how old are you, Devon?’

  ‘Twenty-five,’ Devon said.

  ‘Have you ever had insights similar to Connor?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Anyone in your family that you know of?’

  ‘No.’ Devon shifted uneasily in her chair. Congrave asked her questions but never took his eyes from her son. ‘But if you think that’s a reason to split us up then you can think again.’

  ‘Split you up?’ Congrave looked at her in surprise. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because it’s what you people always do. You think you know better than the parent and take the child away.’

  ‘I guess you’ve had problems in the past,’ Congrave said.

  ‘Yes. And in the present.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Social Services were going to take Connor away from me this morning. We had to get away from them and came down here. Connor was guided to you.’

  ‘When you say you had to get away from them I take it that legally speaking you may well have absconded with Connor?’

  ‘If that means what I think it does then yes.’

  ‘And don’t forget Sally,’ Connor said.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Devon dropped her gaze. ‘We had to do something to one of the social workers to escape.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Congrave asked softly.

  ‘We hit her on the head,’ Connor said when his mother didn’t reply. ‘Not too hard, she should have been okay after a few minutes.’

  Congrave sighed. ‘Well, I was going to invite you back to our offices to meet some of my colleagues and then put you up in a local hotel overnight but it looks like I’ll have some other work to do first to clear up that mess. We can’t have the police or social services chasing after you.’

  ‘You can do that?’ Devon asked in surprise.

  ‘You’d be surprised at the things I can do,’ Congrave said with a smile.

  Connor nudged his mother’s leg with his foot. ‘Tell him about Ty,’ he said.

  ‘Who’s Ty?’ Congrave asked.

  ‘Oh,’ Devon drew the word out. ‘He helped us get away but then we found he wasn’t so friendly and... well... I think the police wouldn’t be as bothered about Ty as they would be about Sally because Ty is involved in gangs and drugs and shit like that but we might have had to hit him as well to get away.’

  ‘Might?’

  ‘Well, we did, or at least Connor did.’

  Congrave sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll get my people onto it.’

  ‘Um, we still don’t actually know who you are,’ Devon said.

  ‘You’ll have heard of the Security Services,’ Congrave said and when Devon and Connor both nodded he continued. ‘We fall under part of them. Officially we are MI-18, otherwise known as the Office of Environmental Security.’

  As Congrave stood, Devon said, ‘Environment like in green things?’

  ‘It’s just a name to put people off.’ Congrave stood. ‘We like to think the Environmental part covers the world around us that we can see and also one we can’t.’

  ‘Like spirit guides?’

  ‘Indeed, just like spirit guides,’ Congrave said. ‘Now, let’s head back to the office. There’s a lot of work to be done.’

  ***

  Six hours later Devon watched Connor pad around the room in his underwear ready for bed. She still hadn’t quite got over the last few hours. First, Congrave escorting them past the open-mouthed security guard and receptionist before heading up to the third-floor offices where a couple of dozen men and women worked at computers in a large open plan office. Congrave had introduced to them to a slim black girl named Natalie who he detailed to ‘clear up any problems back in Birmingham’.

  Devon watched in awe as Natalie spoke to senior children’s services staff, police and education officers. Phone calls, emails and even a web chat with Lydia to clear up the ‘misunderstanding’ and assure her that Devon and Connor were now in protective custody having provided information in a drug investigation. The good news, Sally had no serious injuries and had already said she did not want to press any charges. Natalie finished with a big smile for Devon and a high-five for Connor.

  ‘I’m not bothering to ask about this Ty character,’ Natalie said. ‘Nothing has come up on the police database so we’ll let sleeping dogs lie on that one.’

  After Natalie came medicals for both Devon and Connor and a long talk with a middle-aged woman who introduced herself to Devon as a psychologist. Then they had drinks and biscuits before Natalie returned with her colleagues Reuben and Josie. More tests took place. This time for Connor, to evaluate his IQ and his psychic abilities. The last act of the day, apart from being provided with an evening meal and being driven to the hotel, had been Congrave handing her an envelope. ‘What’s this?’ Devon asked him.

  ‘Temporary Contract of Employment for you.’

  ‘For me?’ Devon stared at the paperwork.

  ‘Yes. We need to recruit Connor. He will get full access to education and any other needs he may have but we need you to be employed as his ward during the time he is with us. Take the evening to read it. Let me know if you have any questions in the morning and we can get them sorted out.’

  Devon managed to hold back on asking how much she would get paid. She didn’t want to seem too much of a mercenary. She took the envelope and Connor to a pizza restaurant to spend more of Congrave’s money before one of Congrave’s drivers took them to the hotel. Connor read the contract of employment. Devon tried, but there were too many long words and truth be told Connor understood it better anyway. He’d been happy enough with the terms and conditions, and Devon had been even happier at the pay she would receive. ‘Plus we’re on expenses.’ Connor pointed out. ‘Look, all accommodation costs will be met along with other sundry costs as long as they are evidenced by receipts.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Devon asked.

  ‘It means they’ll pay for everything. Food, clothes, travel costs.’

  ‘You mean they’ll pay for us to go to America?’

 
‘I’ve already spoken to Natalie about that this afternoon. She says they need to check up to see if this girl Emily is real and in trouble. If she is we go straight away.’

  ‘And she is real, isn’t she?’ Devon asked.

  Connor walked to the window. He pulled the curtains back to show a night-time view of London. ‘Yes, she’s real, and so are the creatures chasing her.’

  Chapter 8

  ‘Call for you.’ Daniel Mack handed his cell phone to Kramer.

  She gave him a quick smile of thanks and said, ‘Kramer.’

  Ben tried not to listen in to her conversation. He sat a few yards away as he gave a statement to a uniformed police officer about the previous day’s events. Kramer stood. She walked away but Ben could tell from the set of her shoulders that the conversation was not going well.

  The police officer with Ben said, ‘I think that just about wraps it up.’

  Ben glanced at his watch. ‘Only three hours.’

  The officer laughed. ‘My typing must be getting quicker.’ He held out a hand. ‘Just want to say well done. I knew the officer who died there yesterday. We went through the academy together. Death was too easy for the bastards but I’m glad you were there.’

  Ben shook the hand. He wasn’t sure how good he felt about the firefight twenty-four hours later but he didn’t want to be ungracious. He finished the coffee he’d been drinking and dropped the styrofoam cup into a wastebasket. Kramer finished her call, so Ben went to her side and said, ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘No.’ She gave him a glare before waving Mack, Pruitt and Buhl over. She gave Mack his phone back and said, ‘You three are to get the next available flight from McChord to Fort Bragg and rejoin General Dawson. He’s rebuilding our team with some additions from Army Special Forces units. You guys are to assist in their assimilation.’

  ‘You mean babysitting,’ Mack said.

  ‘As soon as they are up to speed you’ll be out in the field. Probably overseas on a search and destroy mission for the people behind all this shit.’

  Mack nodded and said, ‘We’ll get in touch with McChord and see when they have anything going east.’