The Dark Master of Dogs

by Chris Ward

  Stanley Carmichael-Jones Esq. had been partial to high technology. Three exquisite, imported motorbikes, fully fueled and ready to ride, sat in a row inside the garage. Kurou climbed onto the nearest, started the engine, and turned it around.

  Ten minutes later, he was motoring along toward Wells, gravel spraying up from the old roadway behind him.

  Urla Wynne had placed a guard on the warehouse where the festival floats were held. Kurou, not wishing to shed any blood so late in the day, waved the man forward, then clicked his fingers, performing a neat little hypnotist’s trick to gain the man’s compliance.

  ‘It would be your greatest honour to unlock this warehouse and turn on the lights,’ he told the guard.

  ‘My greatest honour,’ the guard slurred, then pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked a side door. With a flick of his finger he illuminated a cavernous room, the floor of which was lined by orderly rows of carnival floats. Built by local businesses and schools, they were colourful wooden contraptions depicting scenes of village life, sports, hobbies, and fantastical situations.

  ‘Quite delightful,’ Kurou said, rubbing his chin.

  Urla Wynne was clearly trying to impress Maxim Cale. It would take most of the town to push these lumbering things past Britain’s future leader tomorrow afternoon.

  How spectacular it would be.

  Kurou instructed his willing guard to take a nap in a corner, then pulled off a rucksack and opened it up to reveal spools of wires and bags of tiny electrical devices.

  He sighed as he hefted the empty bag. It would be so nice not to have the weight on the bumpy ride back.

  An hour later, he was done, his fingers sore from rolling back the years, working the kind of magic that even in his youth would have made him proud. Maxim Cale would certainly see a parade he would never forget, and Kurou only hoped he could make it close enough to get a bird’s-eye view of the action. It was time to entertain the Grey Man with a rainbow of epic proportions.

  He returned the guard to his post with a little memory loss trick which would leave the visit of a unique stranger confined to his dreams, then climbed back on to his motorbike and set out. The rumble of distant traffic disturbed his thoughts as he headed back in darkness, car headlights flickering over the hills up ahead. He pulled off the road and hid in a farm gateway while a convoy of unmarked cars came up behind him and then sped past.

  Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, he decided to wait a while before heading straight home. He pulled out the computer tablet and called up Laurette.

  ‘Dear friend, pray tell me what is going on back there?’

  For a while Laurette didn’t answer. Just as Kurou was beginning to fear something had happened to his assistant, Laurette’s face appeared on the screen.

  ‘Master, it’s bad news,’ he growled. ‘The factory is surrounded. They are calling for you to emerge.’

  Kurou winced. So, the DCA had come at last. It would take a little strategic planning to escape such a mortal situation unscathed.

  ‘Alas, I am currently occupied. Hunt out a loudspeaker or some other such device and inform them that I do not wish to concur with their demands, but that should they wish tea to be brought out while they wait, we can negotiate. On no account should you open the gate unless I give the instruction. Is that clear?’

  ‘Clear, Master,’ Laurette growled.

  ‘You are a fine servant. I’ll be in touch.’

  He switched off the connection and instead established a group link going to all his operational Huntsmen, currently scouting or hiding out in positions across the town. He had underestimated Urla Wynne, who it seemed had allocated the majority of her resources to an offensive against himself, when they might have been better served protecting the town. Now, they laid siege to a factory they felt was brim full of deadly technology, when in actual fact most of it was wandering around outside. Like ducks at a broken shooting gallery, they would be easily to dispatch with even the wobbliest of aims.

  And then, a little parade would go ahead tomorrow close to unguarded.

  Things were falling into place. If such a god of technology existed, it was surely smiling on him, offering him an olive branch for the years of imbalance, and an opportunity to finally exact his vengeance on the man who had left him blinded, crippled and scarred.

  ‘Dear friends,’ he told his Huntsmen, once they were all online. ‘I would like you to return to your nest and await further orders. I am feeling in an artistic mood, and have decided to paint a mural outside my factory, one which examines the full range of textures and tints that can be achieved with the colour red.’

  He switched off the connection and rubbed his birdlike nose. Yes. His final victory was coming.

  Soon, soon, soon.

  37

  Suzanne

  She felt like a prisoner as she waited with Kelly in a small backroom of Frank’s surgery. He had gone to meet a contact, but that had been over an hour ago and Suzanne was beginning to fear that he had shopped them to the DCA.

  ‘Where is he?’ Kelly said.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Kelly sighed. Sitting on a chair beside Suzanne, she was awake and coherent but in constant pain. The infection was in remission, Frank claimed, but the wound itself needed proper medical care if it were to heal properly.

  From an adjacent room Suzanne heard a door open and close. She stood up as the backroom door opened and Frank appeared. He looked flustered, as though he had been running.

  ‘Okay, come with me now. Both of you.’

  They stood up and followed after him. It was dark outside, the shoreline beyond the last row of houses a glitter of lapping waves beneath the glow of a half-moon. They followed Frank along the street, passing the solitary pub and down a side street that sloped steeply upward. Frank stopped outside a narrow door. In the adjacent window, light peeked around the edges of a thick, black curtain.

  ‘Let me do the talking,’ Frank said. ‘Dill Hedgers is an old friend, but he’s not a trusting man. You can’t be in his main line of work.’

  ‘Running a bric-a-brac store?’ Suzanne said, looking up at the sign over the window.

  ‘A cover,’ Frank said. ‘He’s a ferry master. Of a very risky kind.’

  Frank opened the door and went inside. Suzanne exchanged glances with Kelly, who gave a tired shrug.

  ‘It might be our only chance,’ Suzanne said. ‘Come on.’

  She took her younger sister’s hand and led her inside. She found herself in a cramped shop piled high with all manner of junk, from dusty ornaments to wind-up toys and old electrical items, many of which were officially illegal. With no clear order, it felt like a storeroom until she realised there was a price label on everything.

  A door opened at the back and a figure appeared. He ducked under a collection of die-cast model planes hanging from strings and beckoned them forward.

  ‘My office,’ he said.

  Whatever Dill Hedgers had for muscle was hidden beneath the signs of very healthy eating. A long grey beard hung almost to his stomach, and a fisherman’s cap held a mop of wispy hair against his head. Hard eyes stared out of a face weathered by the ocean. Suzanne could only guess at an age somewhere between thirty and fifty.

  ‘This the pair?’ he said to Frank in a thick Westcountry accent.

  ‘Two girls,’ Frank said. ‘One has an injury that needs hospital care. When can you go?’

  ‘Friday,’ Hedgers said. ‘That’s the earliest. On Fridays the coastguard changes shifts. There’s a window of a couple of hours to get out beyond the guard line, then we’re good.’ He turned to Suzanne. ‘Ever been to Ireland?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a lot prettier than this shithole. You’ll like it.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Hedgers pulled out a chair and sat down beside a cash register Suzanne had until now thought part of the goods for sale. He took a deep breath as though standing made him uncomfortable, then began laying out terms.
/>   ‘You have a vehicle to trade,’ he said, at last, after outlining the grave threat of the coastguard, not just on the people being transported, but on himself, and by association his whole extended family. ‘That’s better than most. Believe it or not, I’m a reasonable man. I could charge ten times what I do and still get takers.’ With a chuckle he added, ‘And Britain would have a whole lot more crime.’

  ‘Friday,’ Suzanne said. ‘That’s three days from now. Don’t you have any boats going sooner?’

  Hedgers glared at her until she felt so uncomfortable that she looked away. ‘Do I look like a fucking charter service? The day will come soon when they’ll have machine guns on those coastguard frigates and they’ll hunt us like whales. There used to be three of us making runs over to Ireland, helping losers like you who’d be spending your best years on your back in a London brothel otherwise. I’m the only one left, and I want to keep it that way.’ He leaned forward. ‘We go Friday.’

  Suzanne forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘Sure. That’s fine.’

  ‘Fucking right it is. Now, I want that car brought down tomorrow night. I’ll tell you where.’

  Suzanne looked at Frank, hoping for support, but the doctor had his eyes averted. She reached out and squeezed Kelly’s hand. Her sister looked up at her, tears in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Suzanne said. ‘It’ll be all right.’

  ‘Friday, at six p.m.,’ Hedgers said. ‘I need the two of you to be ready to leave. Time is of massive importance—’

  The door behind them creaked. Suzanne turned, her heart skipping a beat as a ghost stepped inside, looked up at her and gave a smile that had once melted her heart.

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’

  Time froze. A single word fell from Suzanne’s lips. ‘Patrick—’

  Boxes rattled, tumbling to the floor. Suzanne looked back to see Hedgers rising to his feet, something shiny and metal in his hands.

  ‘Wait, no, he’s a friend!’

  The harpoon gun whizzed. Suzanne screamed. Patrick twisted sideways into the nearest stack of boxes, but a shadow flashed between them, a billow of brown cloth that grunted as it absorbed the harpoon and then rolled on, out of the door and into the night.

  The bell above the door rattled as it clicked shut.

  ‘Get the fuck out of my shop!’ Hedgers roared. ‘All of you. Now!’

  He lifted the harpoon, but Frank reached for it, pushing its barrel away from Suzanne and Kelly.

  ‘Dill, wait—’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Patrick said, pushing himself up to his knees and holding up his hands. ‘I’m a friend. I’m her boyfriend.’

  ‘You’re a fucking risk to my life and everyone I’m involved with!’ Hedgers shouted, throwing Frank off and marching forward. Frank reached for his shoulder but took an elbow in his face for his efforts. Hedgers held up the end of a severed wire cord.

  ‘What the fuck was that thing, and who in God’s bleeding name are you?’

  Suzanne had barely seen what happened. All she had known was that Dill intended to shoot Patrick, but something had appeared out of the shadows and got in his way.

  ‘I followed you,’ Patrick said to Suzanne, the desperation in his face making her love for him burn, even though on some level she knew he had just royally fucked up their chance of escape, possibly even putting Kelly’s life at risk. ‘I’m sorry I never came back. I got sidetracked, got involved in some bad shit, but I’m back now, and I’ll look after you from now on.’

  He reached for her, pulling her forward into a hug. He was shaking, and as they embraced, Suzanne realised he was sobbing into her shoulder.

  ‘You smell like a dead dog,’ she said, unable to resist a smile. Beside her, Kelly looked disgusted as she flapped a hand in front of her nose.

  ‘Get the fuck out of my shop,’ Hedgers shouted again, turning and stomping away into a back room. He flapped a hand in the air as he slammed the door, and Suzanne heard a muffled, ‘The deal’s off.’

  Frank gave Suzanne a pained look and then said, ‘I’ll try to talk him around.’ With a glare aimed at Patrick he added, ‘That was not the most timely of appearances.’

  ‘Who’s this guy?’ Patrick said as Frank knocked on the back room door and then went inside. ‘Is he helping you?’

  ‘He’s a doctor,’ Suzanne said. ‘Yeah, he’s helping us.’

  Jealousy flashed in Patrick’s eyes, so she reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. ‘He saved Kelly’s life.’

  He looked away for a couple of seconds, and when he looked back, Suzanne saw the failure in his eyes: He saved her when I couldn’t. She squeezed his hand again, but he was turning toward the door.

  ‘I have to find him,’ he said.

  ‘Who? That was one of those things, wasn’t it?’

  ‘He, not it. And yeah. That’s how I found you. He tracked you.’

  Suzanne suppressed a shiver. Even though the creature had helped them, the idea of it following her filled her with dread.

  ‘Is it Race? Is it your brother?’

  Patrick nodded. ‘What’s left of him.’ He let go of her hand. ‘I have to find him. I’ll be back soon, I promise. And then … I’ll make everything right.’

  She let him kiss her, and then she watched him back away, push out of the door and vanish into the night. She glanced at Kelly and found her younger sister staring at her openmouthed.

  ‘I’m not sure I can explain,’ Suzanne said, but before she could say anything else, the backroom door opened and Frank appeared. His cheeks were red, and he wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand as he shook his head.

  ‘I’m not quite regretting ever setting eyes on you,’ he said, ‘but I’m close. I’ve managed to talk Dill into taking you, and that friend of yours too. But the price just doubled.’

  Suzanne stared. ‘He can’t do that.’

  ‘He can do whatever he likes, I’m afraid. Where did your friend go?’

  ‘He went after that thing.’

  Frank shook his head again. ‘I’m not sure I understand what I saw back then. Dill swears he saw a ghost, and it’s got him spooked.’

  ‘I don’t know what it was, but it’s on our side.’

  ‘It had better be, because I don’t want to be going up against something that can take a harpoon and still move at that speed.’

  Suzanne looked at Kelly, then back at Frank. ‘I need to find him. Can you look after my sister for a few minutes?’

  Kelly looked terrified, but Frank nodded. ‘They went outside together and Frank pointed in the direction of his surgery. ‘We’ll wait for you there.’

  ‘Suzanne, be careful.’

  Suzanne nodded. ‘I will.’

  She had no idea where she might find Patrick or the creature, but Porlock only had so many streets for her to search. Figuring it was the most likely way they had gone, she headed back to the beachside.

  In a circle of light on a promenade along the beachfront, she saw a hand-sized patch of liquid. Squatting down, she found it was a mixture of oil and human blood. A short distance away was more, the ground flecked with droplets of the same substance.

  Following the line of the shore, Suzanne trailed the droplets around the curve of the beach to a set of huts at the far end. The door of one had been broken open, a low growling sound coming from within.

  ‘Race, I can get you help….’

  Suzanne shivered at the sound of Patrick’s voice, and the growl that came in response. Every fibre of her being wanted to turn around and run from that thing, and she had to continually remind herself that it had saved her life.

  ‘Patrick?’ she whispered. ‘Patrick, it’s me.’

  A shape emerged from the hut, and for a moment Suzanne’s heart skipped a beat. Even as she realised it could only be Patrick, her hands trembled so much she had to clasp them together to keep them still.

  ‘He’s hurt,’ Patrick said. ‘He took that weapon in my place. He’s my brother, Suzanne. He’s Race, and he re
membered.’

  At the air of Patrick’s self-pity, Suzanne felt a rolling shoreline of emotions building up inside her. There was the relief at seeing him juxtaposed against the resentment that he had screwed up their chance to escape. And that in turn led to guilt that she had planned to leave without him.

  ‘Patrick, I….’ she began, unsure what to say.

  ‘I came to find you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about what happened. I saw you, and I got excited. Race was supposed to wait outside, but he might have sensed something.’

  ‘Where did it come from?’

  ‘He, Suzanne. I’ve told you. It’s Race.’

  Suzanne clenched her fists, trying to dispel a growing frustration. ‘Okay, he. Where did he come from? Who did that to … to his face?’

  ‘Doctor Crow. The man who took over your father’s factory. I met him. We … made a deal.’

  ‘What kind of deal?’

  Patrick shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter now. The important thing is that I’ve found you.’

  ‘And that thing—sorry, Race—is hurt. What can we do about it?’

  ‘That man, that friend of yours, you said he was a doctor.’

  Suzanne’s heart sank. She had involved Frank too much already. She dreaded the words she knew Patrick was about to say, because she knew she couldn’t refuse. After everything, she couldn’t deny him.

  ‘Maybe, if we can take Race to him, he can help.’

  Suzanne closed her eyes, trying to forget that she was nodding, muttering, ‘Sure. I’m sure he can help,’ under her breath.

  Frank was sitting in a chair near the door when Suzanne tapped lightly on the window. He shook his head as though he had been dozing, then got up and let her in.