by Adam Carter
“Interfere?” Baronaire asked. “Sorry if I don’t happen to support the murder of innocent young women.”
The flicker of a sneer crossed Ilium’s face, and Baronaire knew it was involuntary. “You’re police. I know you by sight now. It doesn’t matter, you know. You can’t win. Even if you stopped me killing her, I would still walk free of the courts. I own you, officer. I own you all.”
Baronaire did the one thing guaranteed to annoy the man; he ignored him and spoke directly to the girl. “Miss Greene, are you all right?”
Her eyes were wild, but she nodded regardless. Baronaire could see no injuries and took her at her word.
“I need you to close your eyes for me,” he said. “Can you do that, miss?”
Greene did not understand, and it was several moments before she obeyed. Ilium followed the exchange with an unexpected calm and said, “And what exactly is that going to ...”
Baronaire moved faster than Ilium could have anticipated, his fist smashing into Ilium’s jaw and sending him reeling. Greene fell from his hands and Baronaire took her. She was distraught, almost fighting him, but Baronaire needed her out of the way so dropped her behind the settee. “Keep your head down,” he told her. “And don’t look out.”
By this time Ilium had recovered and was eyeing Baronaire strangely. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You move like lightning.”
“You’re nuts.”
“No,” Ilium said slowly. “No, I don’t think so. Very well, officer. Take me in. I am your prisoner,” he said with a queer flourish. “I shall enjoy debating your speed with some of my ...”
“What makes you think I want to take you in, Donny?” He spoke the name as sarcastically as he could as he landed another punch, connecting to the man’s stomach. Ilium doubled over, blood flecking the carpet. Baronaire had incredible strength and had not pulled the punch in the slightest. He began to circle Ilium as the man attempted to regain his breath. “You think you’re in control, Ilium, you think you own this city.”
“This city is a joke,” Ilium spat, laughing through the blood upon his teeth. “This whole country is a joke.”
“You may be a big shot in your little circle of friends, Ilium, but remember one thing.” He grabbed the man by the shoulder and raised him into the air with the trouble it would take a child to lift a beetle. He stared daggers into Ilium’s angry eyes and whispered, “I know who owns this city. I know who’s Satan here, Ilium, because I’m one of his archangels.”
He tossed Ilium as though he was nothing and the man struck the wall and collapsed. Baronaire cast a glance to check Greene wasn’t poking her head where it should not have been, and then turned his attention back to Ilium. The man was already trying to crawl to safety and Baronaire strolled across to him. It was then he realised Ilium wasn’t trying to escape: he was reaching for a weapon.
Ilium span upon his back with a grin of victory, raising the pistol and firing before Baronaire had the chance to evade the shot. The bullet tore through Baronaire’s chest, pierced his heart, and was the cleanest kill Baronaire had ever seen. But Baronaire had more abilities than simply his speed, and he did not have to move in order to evade the shot. Instead he did the only thing he could when he lacked the time to move. He allowed his body to transmogrify, momentarily becoming an insubstantial white mist, to re-form into his solid living body once more. The bullet passed harmlessly through him and shattered another toby jug.
“What the ...?”
Baronaire had had enough, his hand snapping out to crush the gun and Ilium’s hand with it. Ilium screamed in pain and Baronaire hoisted him to his feet. “I get to make you pay for your crimes, Ilium,” he told him sternly. “Lucky me.”
Just then the door burst open and three figures rushed in. Lin went straight to the trembling young woman, removing her own coat to drape over Greene’s shoulders to keep her warm. Marius and Milton ground to a halt in the living room, noticing Baronaire had Ilium contained.
Suddenly Baronaire knew he could not kill Ilium with these two men watching. He did not know why Lin thought the need to bring them and supposed they must have insisted. Whatever the case, it hardly mattered. It meant Baronaire was going to have to make a show of arresting Ilium so he could get him out of sight of these two men. He could figure out what to do with them all later.
“Go,” Baronaire said, shoving Ilium towards the door. “Go while I’m still in a good mood.”
Ilium stumbled where Baronaire pushed him, although he straightened his back to regain a semblance of dignity. Passing Marius and Milton he exchanged an imperious glare, and Marius’s eyes flicked to Baronaire. Baronaire could not say what had passed in that exchange, although clearly some secret communication had been received regarding him. Like a secret handshake or something.
Growling once more, Baronaire pushed past the two men and all but threw Ilium through the door to the hall. He looked to Lin, huddled with Greene. “You all right with her?” he asked.
“I’ll get her to a hospital.”
“I’ll see you back at the bunker, then.”
Lin nodded. “What about these guys?”
Baronaire snorted. “Like I care. Go home,” he told Marius and Milton. “And for your own sakes stay out of my way.”
He did not like taking prisoners back to the bunker, it was just not the done thing. However, until he could figure out a way to kill or frame Ilium without Marius and Milton realising he had done so, there was no better place for him. Now if he could just avoid Sanders for a while Baronaire would be able to figure out exactly what to do about all of this.
He did not like the way that even now Ilium seemed to be smirking, as though he had never actually lost control of the situation at all.
CHAPTER SIX
“Well this is a first.” Jeremiah stared through the glass. The prisoner was kept in a five-metre square room. He had a chair to sit on and nothing else. Four of the walls were stone, the fourth was a mirror on the prisoner’s side, a window on the outside. Ilium sat uncomplaining, staring at the mirror, clearly knowing he was being watched from the other side. Baronaire had called ahead to say he was bringing in a prisoner, bound and blindfolded so Ilium would not learn the route to the bunker. It had been many years since Jeremiah had seen a prisoner brought in, and Baronaire had always been too good at his job to have ever done this before.
“I need to figure out what to do with him,” Baronaire said. “He can stay here for a couple of days for all I care. Maybe he’ll just rot away and save me the trouble of deciding what to do.”
Jeremiah wanted to ask where Lin was, but guessed she had gone home. He did not know what shift she was on, but with the prisoner in the cell she had probably just gone anyway. He knew Baronaire would not appreciate his asking after the detective so said nothing.
“She’s gone home.”
Jeremiah winced, keeping his attention focused upon the prisoner. “Who has?”
Baronaire shook his head. He really didn’t seem in the mood for Jeremiah’s games.
“I’ve moved on,” Jeremiah assured him. “Seriously. God, Charles, I didn’t realise she meant that much to you, why don’t you just marry her or something?”
Baronaire ignored him and took a step closer to the glass. Jeremiah could not see that Ilium’s expression had changed, and had no idea what Baronaire was looking for.
“I want to know more about this club of theirs,” Baronaire said. “I asked Stockwell and he couldn’t find out anything. These people are so rich they seem to be able to hide everything.”
“If Stockwell can’t find anything,” Jeremiah said reasonably, “it likely can’t be found.”
There was a tight smile to Baronaire’s lips then. “That doesn’t sound like the Jeremiah I used to know. What happened to the man who lost a fortune in a casino in seventy-nine and tracked the money clear across the country?”
Jeremiah smiled at the memory. After so many years at WetFish it was someti
mes easy to forget that for many years previously he and Baronaire had travelled the country together. He had met Baronaire in the early sixties and they had hardly been separated since. They had achieved so much together, had always aspired to greatness. They had become heroes in a small town near Edinburgh, where they had foiled a traveller who had attempted to kidnap a young woman; they had been chased through Dudley as rogues and had hidden for an entire day in a long tunnel of one of the canals; they had even played a round of cricket with Princess Di, not that she would remember it. They had crammed so much into so few years, and now they had jobs and responsibilities and targets.
They were middle-aged and yet had so much life before them.
“I miss those times,” Jeremiah said, not realising he had spoken aloud. He realised then Baronaire was looking at him with a longing in his own eyes. Baronaire did not have to voice his thoughts: the two men had always known how the other felt about anything.
“I want your opinion on this guy,” Baronaire said.
Jeremiah glanced back to Ilium and shrugged. “Kill him.”
“That’s not what I meant. Is he human?”
Jeremiah did not understand what was being asked of him. He looked to Ilium once more, sitting silent in that small chamber, waiting for someone or something. A patient man, but Jeremiah could detect nothing unusual about him. “What do you mean?”
“Is he like us?”
Jeremiah laughed. “No.”
Baronaire tore his eyes from Ilium and Jeremiah could see the genuine concern therein. It wasn’t that Baronaire was afraid, it was more that he was excited about the prospect. “We met three men in this club of theirs. One of them, the bar owner, he resisted my hypnosis.”
“Some people can. I’m surprised you’ve never come across one before. Charles, men with open minds can achieve anything. Whatever this club of theirs is, it’s clearly something unusual. Maybe they’re just used to the bizarre and having someone try to hypnotise them isn’t something to get them worried.”
Baronaire was a strange old stick, Jeremiah reflected. He was always on the search for answers. He and Baronaire were different to other men, and Baronaire simply could not accept that without knowing the reason why. There had been many times when Jeremiah had been tempted to tell him everything, to put his mind at ease; but with Baronaire every answer would just lead to more questions and Jeremiah did not have all the answers. He could tell Baronaire what he wanted to know, certainly, but Jeremiah wasn’t sure it was healthy to know too much about what they were and where they came from.
Jeremiah was about to say he was heading home when he jumped, shocked. Ilium was standing at the glass, bare centimetres from it, staring straight at him. He held Jeremiah’s gaze as though he could see through the mirror, and Jeremiah felt his heart racing. It had been a long time since Jeremiah had been shocked over anything, and he did not like it one bit.
“I know what you are,” Ilium said, and while they could not hear the words Jeremiah could read the movement of his lips well enough.
Jeremiah caught Baronaire looking at him with an expression half amused, half determined. “He’s human,” Jeremiah hissed and stormed away. It would have done no good to tell Baronaire not to talk to Ilium, since he would do what he wanted anyway. If Ilium started to fill in the blanks, then so be it, but Jeremiah honestly could not see how a man like Ilium could have known anything.
He noticed Baronaire had not followed, which meant he was likely speaking with the prisoner even now. It wasn’t the best of scenarios, but Jeremiah had no option but to allow it to happen. He could not himself head home now, however, not when Baronaire would likely need his counsel, and so instead found himself moving across the office to where Stockwell was all but plugged into his machine. It was rare that Jeremiah saw the young man’s desk vacant, although right now it would be perhaps useful to talk with him.
“Busy?” Jeremiah asked.
Stockwell looked up from his keyboard. “Thompson has me researching one of her cases. You want help with something?”
“Ilium.”
“I gave Baronaire and Lin everything I dug up about him. It wasn’t much.”
Jeremiah reflected that he could raid Baronaire’s drawers later. “I want to know about his secret society.”
“Couldn’t find anything about that, sorry. It’s as though it doesn’t exist.”
“I thought computers were the way forward. Isn’t everything supposed to be available on the Internet now?”
“Maybe someday. But right now we’re limited by the times, Jeremiah.”
“What about these others, then? Marius and the barman?”
Stockwell fished around his desk and pulled out some notes. “Here are their addresses, but they haven’t done anything wrong. Ilium’s in custody, so Baronaire has it pretty much tied up.”
Jeremiah did not care to listen to any more of the young man’s ranting and departed before Stockwell could start telling him the difference between the common and yellow-legged gulls. Presumably one had yellow legs. It was worrying that Jeremiah even knew their names and he hurried away before he could think too much about it.
It was still dark outside and Jeremiah forsook a vehicle to take to the very air itself. Standing upon the bunker’s roof Jeremiah leaped to a nearby building, scaling the wall with the ease of a spider. The night was crisp and clear and there was a chill wind which sent a warm smile to his face. He propelled himself over the edge of the building and stood upon its roof, gazing down at the city beneath him. Cars crawled through the streets, men and women hurried out of each other’s way even at this time of night. No one would suspect that the bunker lay beneath their feet, no one could know the horrors the officers planned within those secluded walls.
Jeremiah stood upon the edge of the rooftop, closing his eyes and breathing in the heady night air. He spread his arms wide as though he was intending to execute the perfect jump and smiled to himself. Sometimes life was good.
He felt his skin tingle as he began to lose all feeling in his limbs. His arms were the first to go completely numb, and he felt his heart slow, his blood ceasing to pump. His knees buckled as a substance akin to steam came pouring from him, and he opened his eyes to see the cloud forming before him. Ordinarily the process would only take half a second, but on nights such as these Jeremiah liked to indulge himself and he laughed even as his voice-box disintegrated and there was left nothing of the man he had one time been. In his place a thick white mist was spreading away from the rooftop, slowly at first and building momentum. The mist shot out across the city, moving at speeds in excess of any ordinary human being.
Sanders was just a human being, and Jeremiah often wondered why they had not completed their mission and taken the man down in all the years they had served him. With powers such as these there was nothing Sanders could do against them, and yet here they were, over ten years later, still working for him.
The cloud headed clear across the city, to a specific address, and re-formed reluctantly into the shape of Jeremiah. He felt feeling return to his limbs as his heart once more began to pump blood, and he stopped for a moment upon the rooftop, wondering just how it was he did this. Baronaire did not have a clue what they were, or maybe just did not want to admit the truth. Jeremiah on the other hand knew precisely what they were; he knew the what but did not understand the how. Or why. He had never been told everything, had only been told it was necessary to destroy these foul creatures.
But one day, one of these beasts would destroy Alsa-Tet and save the world.
He was not even certain himself what that meant, but it had been something of a prophecy he had kept hold of for many, many years. Perhaps it meant nothing, just the mad ramblings of his imagination. But that hope had formed a part of Jeremiah’s original commands and he was not about to abandon the thought now.
Setting aside such for the moment, Jeremiah found a chimney and swept through as a mist, taking a detour through the floorboards so he would
not burn when he reached the fire itself. The house he had come to was old and large, and was likely very cold at this time of the year were it not for the real log fires. Taking human form once more, Jeremiah found himself in a bedroom. There were few furnishings, and those that were there suggested the room to belong to a lady. There was a dressing table, a mirror and an old record player with several vinyls sitting neatly to one side. He opened a wardrobe to find a selection of expensive dresses, all of them sized for a teenager or young woman.
Closing the door, he wondered who could have called this room her own, and whether she was even still around.
He moved slowly through the house, making no sound at all. Jeremiah may not have understood precisely what he was, but he had long ago mastered his powers. He was the ultimate in stealth agents and had even served his country on occasion at personal request of the Queen.
The house was large and bore little in the form of character. Aside from that one room in which he had rematerialized Jeremiah could see only plain furnishings, white chambers, a thin coating of dust over everything. He veritably floated down the stairwell, a truly grand and inspiring affair, but entirely lacking in character. As he approached the living room it was to wonder whether this house was even lived in at all. Peering through the door he could see a man seated in an armchair beside the fireplace. There was a roaring blaze in the hearth, but while the fireplace was decorated with various brass ornaments and an expensive rug was laid before it, the armchair situated half atop this, the rest of the room was as the rest of the house; empty, devoid of all life and feeling.
Jeremiah crept into the room, his eyes upon the man reclining in the chair. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end and Jeremiah was at last conscious that this was some form of trap. But he had started now and would not back down just because of a little trepidation. Jeremiah feared no man, and would never admit to such a feeling.
He reached within a metre of the chair, its back facing him still, and he judged the best way to approach the seated figure. He could leap before him, or spin the chair around with his amazing strength. He could even speak, demanding answers.