Cat Flap

by Ian Jarvis

  ‘I’m so sorry, Bernie.’ The old man grimaced apologetically. ‘But they’re the ones helping me.’

  ‘Silva can sense other Elite,’ said Zucco. ‘Your eyes aren’t green like ours and he’ll allow you close. He wears Kevlar armour under his clothing, so I suggest you go for his head...’

  ‘Forget it,’ snarled Quist, his eyes still on the miserable-looking Larry. ‘I won’t help your schemes.’

  ‘You’re forgetting our hostages,’ said Fran. ‘And you still don’t know why my research staff were killed. We needed a few murders to get the police searching for a crazed killer.’

  ‘That’s you,’ said Strand. ‘When you left this afternoon, Larry and I planted a few things in your house: Lisa’s binoculars, Diane’s bracelet, Becca’s bag, Gillette’s wristwatch and some motorcycle badges.’

  ‘I might have alibis.’ Quist glared at Larry. ‘I was in a cell when the bikers were killed.

  Strand walked close to the bars. ‘I roughed up a hospital porter last night, knowing he’d call the police. I was responsible for your arrest. I knew they couldn’t hold you, but I wanted to get the police interested in you. They’re not interested enough to search your cottage, but a phone call would remedy that. Even if my planted evidence doesn’t stick, they’ll still investigate and that wouldn’t do at all, would it?’ Strand reached in his pocket and held out a wallet. ‘Believe me, it will be a thorough investigation.’

  Quist read the warrant card inside. ‘Detective Constable Gregson.’

  ‘Dead police officers are far more provocative than binoculars and bracelets. Larry killed Gregson outside Doctor Clarkson’s and what’s left of him is in your bathtub.’

  ‘That was you?’ stammered Amy, staring at Larry. ‘But what I saw...’

  ‘Silva has no idea who you are,’ said Strand. ‘You’ll be allowed close at the meeting. It will be simple.’

  Quist visibly wilted. ‘Why, Larry?’ he whispered. ‘You told them everything about me. Why?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Bernie.’ The old man turned away, unable to meet his eyes. ‘Just do what they ask and it’ll soon be over. Killing Silva will be easy for you.’

  Rex sucked hard on his trembling cigarette. As far as Strand was aware, the man next to Quist was an SAS killer and ideal for such a dangerous mission. He decided not to point this out.

  ‘We bumped into your friend Larry in October.’ Fran draped an arm around the old man’s waist and kissed his cheek. He squirmed, uncomfortable with the embrace. ‘When I found it was possible to produce a sunscreen, Matthew and I visited another member of our group who despises the President, Bob Quarry in Glasgow. We spent days planning how to kill Silva, before fate stepped in. Matthew and I were hunting junkies one evening in the old part of town.’

  ‘Talk about luck,’ said Strand. ‘Larry was stalking the same addict.’

  ‘What?’ Watson turned to Quist, confused. ‘But he can’t be Ubasteri, Guv. His eyes are brown and I’ve seen him in daylight before they invented that cream.’

  Strand ignored him. ‘We wanted Larry for the assassination, but he’s too old and slow.’

  ‘So he suggested me instead,’ muttered Quist.

  ‘That’s right. We met again last week in Glasgow to finalise plans and supply the tracking and bugging devices.’

  Watson looked Quist up and down. ‘I’ve asked if I’m missing something,’ he said, gaping at the shapeshifters. ‘You’re staking everything on Cyrano killing the top cat in a fortress with armed guards? First you pick a geriatric and now him. Do you cat people use psychiatrists? Some practise in the evenings, you know?’

  Strand grinned. ‘He doesn’t have much confidence, does he, Bernard?’ He checked his watch. ‘The meeting begins at seven, so Fran and I will leave now with Doctor Clarkson and Captain Grant. I need time to show the sunscreen to the Committee. Doctor Zucco will follow in thirty minutes with you. He’ll explain on the way what you’re to do.’

  ‘You’re taking these two.’ Quist glanced at the teenager. ‘What about Watson?’

  ‘Never put all your hostages in one basket.’ Strand unlocked the cell. ‘No, he stays here.’

  ‘Get to the wall,’ snapped Zucco. He trained his gun on Quist and nodded to Rex and Amy. ‘You two, out!’

  ‘Cheerio for now, Bernard.’ Fran ushered them up the stairs. ‘Make sure you guard him, Jordan.’

  Larry shook his head. ‘Bernie can’t get out.’ He turned uneasily from the detective’s icy stare and watched Zucco lock the cage. ‘I tried the bars earlier and I couldn’t move them.’

  ‘Fuck me! There’s a surprise,’ murmured Watson. ‘Seventy-odd and he can’t bend steel.’

  Quist smiled tightly as Larry shot him a rueful glance.

  Chapter 59

  Silva stood at one of his penthouse windows. He held a small terrier in his arms, stroking the terrified animal and watching the blizzard swirl above the converted warehouses on Salford Quays. He turned from the snowstorm to see his bodyguard Galeen admitting Tayman into the lower level of the enormous lounge. The Committee Executive wore a charcoal suit, his bald head gleaming as he glanced around, searching for the President amongst the vegetation and rocks.

  ‘Frederick.’ Silva tossed the dog into the snake pit. ‘Punctual as ever.’

  ‘Of course, Sir.’ Tayman rushed past the lily pond and up the steps to the elevated control level. ‘I’m never late for meetings, especially if it concerns something as important as...’ The words faltered as he reached the pit where the king cobras Kali and Shiva wrestled with their supper.

  ‘Important as?’ prompted Silva.

  ‘As I mentioned on the phone, I believe the Vice-President’s loyalty is in serious question.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it?’

  Like to? Tayman stopped himself laughing out loud. ‘Strand and Stapleton have been spending time at Zucco’s asylum and with Quarry in Glasgow. Something is going on between them.’

  ‘Yes I know.’

  ‘You do?’ Tayman sagged. ‘I suspected they were planning something, and for the past month, I’ve had the hospital and Quarry’s house watched around the clock. Strand has...’

  ‘Around the clock? How was that possible?’

  ‘I used a private agency. They watched Sunnyvale from a nearby wood and...’

  ‘Humans?’

  ‘It was the only way during daylight and they can be disposed of afterwards.’ Tayman smiled. ‘They rang this afternoon when Stapleton turned up at the asylum in a Ferrari. That’s when I called you. They rang again later to let me know Strand had arrived too.’

  Silva fixed Tayman with his cold green stare. ‘How did your investigators recognise the visitors?’

  ‘Er, pictures.’

  ‘Not only have you had humans watching the Elite, but you supplied photographs for identification? All this was without authorisation, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was for the good of the society.’ Tayman gave a nervous twitch. ‘If my methods displease you, I beg forgiveness, but they worked. Strand was ordered to kill Stapleton and he failed. He obviously knows where she is, but he’s done nothing. They’re plotting something and I think we’d better look into it fast.’

  Silva turned to stare through the window. ‘How old do you suppose I am, Frederick?’

  ‘Er...’ Tayman plumped for an enigmatic answer. ‘Older than any of us, Sir.’

  ‘Older than you could possibly imagine. Just as this snow covers Raven’s Wharf, a deadly ash once covered Pompeii. I watched as it spewed from Vesuvius.’

  ‘Ah! Getting on quite a bit then?’

  ‘And tell me...’ Silva strolled to a control panel. ‘How do you suppose I’ve managed to exist for so long?’

  Tayman looked blank. It probably had little to do with m
onitoring feline cholesterol and drinking low-fat blood.

  ‘By anticipation and constantly being several steps ahead.’ The President spoke into an intercom. ‘Send her in, Galeen, then bring the item I requested.’

  A girl entered the lower lounge, the golden light from the fire flickering on her red hair, white sweater, and leather mini skirt.

  ‘Frederick, I’d like you to meet Sarah Aldridge.’ Silva watched her stroll by the cat statue of Bast to mount the steps. ‘Or Nicole Patterson, as she’s been known for the past week. Sarah has been working at Stapleton’s laboratory since the research director’s secretary met with an accident.’

  ‘Aldridge?’ Tayman twitched as Sarah sat on an ornamental boulder and crossed her legs. ‘She’s one of those missing Scottish secretaries; I recognise her from the photos.’

  Silva nodded. ‘I was aware Sharp was killing without permission, and my security staff were watching him long before you became suspicious. I had them bring me an office girl from Glasgow while they were observing his movements.’

  ‘You knew about Sharp?’

  ‘I’ve known about every item of information you’ve ever brought to me. Stapleton was taking too long with her experiments and she and Strand were spending too much time with Zucco and Quarry. I knew there was a conspiracy. Gillette, the Research Director at Stapleton’s company, was conducting the work for her, so I knew he’d have answers.’

  ‘So you had this girl abducted to place in there?’

  ‘That’s right. I saw to it that Gillette’s secretary met with an accident and when the agency sent Nicole Patterson, she was intercepted and replaced.’

  Tayman shook his head. ‘How could you know who’d be sent?’

  ‘Ah, the wonders of modern technology. Accessing Gillette’s personal terminal was impossible, but it was simple enough to hack the company computer to discover which secretarial agency they used. The agency computer was then accessed, the real Nicole was disposed of and Sarah went in her place.’

  ‘Is she Elite?’

  ‘I am now.’ Sarah’s green eyes sparkled and she pulled down her neckline. The cat bite, covered by the turtleneck sweater over the past week, had vanished. ‘Lucius saw to it a short while ago.’

  ‘Transforming her fully was impossible earlier.’ Silva stroked Sarah’s hair. ‘I needed her to watch Gillette by day and report what he and Stapleton were up to. Gillette told her everything after she mesmerised him and my suspicions were correct. Plotting has been going on, Frederick. Rather subversive plotting.’

  ‘Really?’ Tayman brightened.

  Silva smiled. ‘According to her reports, Stapleton was making no progress, but that was a lie. Not only has she completed the eye droplets, but a barrier sunscreen has been developed and apparently it works. Stapleton is able to walk in sunlight.’

  ‘What?’ Tayman twitched. ‘Are you joking?’

  ‘Me? Joking?’ Silva peered curiously at him. ‘Was that a serious question?’

  The stunned Executive pulled his thoughts together. ‘You say they’re plotting against you?’

  ‘Gillette didn’t know much about that. Apparently they mean to replace me with Strand, although I can’t imagine how they hope to accomplish it. That’s why I let him talk me into his heading the York operation; I wanted to see where his schemes would lead. They’ll probably attempt their coup at tonight’s meeting. Quarry and Zucco are in this too, and I expect they’ll try to sway the rest with this sunscreen.’ Silva’s eyes cut into Tayman like emerald lasers. ‘Speaking of withholding information, I believe one of your people has disappeared: your Leeds manager, Dreyer?’

  ‘He’ll turn up. That’s why I didn’t trouble you, Sir.’

  ‘He’s dead. His ashes were found by the police. Why didn’t you report his disappearance?’

  ‘Dead?’ Tayman twitched. ‘I didn’t know. Actually, er, I was going to mention it tonight. Like I say, I didn’t want to bother...’ The words faltered and the twitching increased. This wasn’t going quite how he’d expected and things needed an upward turn. ‘I almost forgot. The new glass filtration system is ready.’

  ‘Now that Doctor Stapleton has developed a sunscreen, I don’t think that matters. Such a pity she chose to side against me.’ Silva looked over the Executive’s shoulder. ‘Ah, there you are at last.’

  Tayman hadn’t heard anyone enter, but three security personnel were silently climbing the steps from the lower level. On the intercom, Galeen had been told to bring something. It was a chainsaw.

  Silva signalled to Sarah, who slipped down from the boulder. ‘In light of this subversive activity, I’ve decided upon a purge,’ he said. ‘Time to restructure our society and dispose of the undesirables and dead wood.’

  ‘Er, right,’ said Tayman. ‘Er, why has he got that chainsaw?’

  ‘It’s the ideal tool for removing dead wood.’

  The two empty-handed guards snatched Tayman and bent him facedown over the boulder. Galeen revved the saw, drowning the shapeshifter’s scuffling and whimpering.

  ‘Time for a society cleanse.’ The President raised his voice over the mechanical roar. ‘You’ve been bending the rules, Frederick, and you’d stop at nothing to climb the hierarchical ladder. The position of Vice-President has always been your ambition, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Er, with respect...’ stammered Tayman, ‘I think this is a bad idea. If you let me...’

  ‘You already had that annoying twitch when you became Elite.’ Silva slipped an arm around Sarah and nodded to the bodyguard. ‘Galeen has a cure for it.’

  The saw hovered over Tayman’s neck before ripping agonisingly into his spine and slicing through the flesh to spark on the rock below. Galeen killed the motor, thuds filling the silence as the bald head bounced down the steps.

  Silva smiled with satisfaction. ‘You were always too pushy for my liking, Frederick. Even with promotion, you still wouldn’t have been content, would you?’

  Galeen didn’t know whether the President expected an answer, but if so, he was disappointed. He snapped to attention as Silva turned to him.

  ‘Go to Zucco’s hospital and bring Strand and Stapleton here. I don’t wish to see Zucco, Atwill, or Houghton again. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’ The bodyguard watched as Tayman’s head melted to sludge like raspberry ice-cream in a frying pan. ‘Absolutely, Sir.’

  Chapter 60

  Rex sat in the front of the van between Atwill and Strand, staring miserably at the snow as they motored through Manchester. The blizzard had little effect on the weekend crowds. The pavements and bars were bright and alive with Christmas revellers and the streets were filled with traffic. The exciting detective stuff had turned out different to what Rex had originally envisaged in Wiltshire. The meeting with his brother seemed a lifetime ago, and although he couldn’t recall his expectations, he was pretty sure they didn’t include being the hostage of bloodsucking cats. This had to rate as his shittiest Christmas ever.

  Amy sat in the rear of the van and gave a sullen nod as he twisted to check on her. Fran sat beside her and blew him a kiss. He glowered and turned away.

  Strand twiddled at the radio, smiling with approval as Slade’s Merry Christmas Everybody poured from the speakers. ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ He leant forward, peering up at the snowfall. ‘Shall we take a toboggan up on the moors when this is over?’

  Rex didn’t answer.

  ‘Another couple of miles to Salford Quays and the fun begins.’ Strand turned up the music and tugged a curtain across the back of the seat to conceal Amy. ‘For once I’m looking forward to the meeting. These gatherings are usually so tedious.’ He grinned at his silent prisoner. ‘I can tell you the good news now. I didn’t say anything earlier. I didn’t want Clarkson or the black kid getting jealous.’

  ‘Good news?’


  ‘Your future, Captain Grant. We’ve chosen you to be Elite. Fran will see to it after tonight’s takeover.’

  Rex’s jaw fell into the footwell. ‘What?’

  ‘You’ll be an ideal addition. Wealthy and a special forces background. Just the kind of...’

  ‘Hang on, please. If it’s money you want, you can have it without...’

  ‘We want your money and you.’

  ‘But, Jesus...’ Rex laughed manically. ‘I don’t want to be a fucking cat.’

  ‘You’d turn down immortality? Then perhaps it’s just as well that I’m not giving you a choice.’

  ‘Look, I don’t know why, but I made up that SAS stuff to impress people. Yes, my family are rich, but I’m no Captain. After Christmas, I’ll be supervising some shitty building site.’

  ‘The housing company is another reason we chose you. A few family accidents and you’ll be the sole owner. Fran told me all about you, so it’s pointless lying. You’re exactly what we need, so get used to it.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘I said get used to it!’

  ‘And what about Amy?’

  ‘Doctor Clarkson has nothing to offer. It’s too late for dinner, so we’ll have to call her supper.’

  ‘You bastard!’

  ‘You’ve formed an attachment?’ Strand sneered. ‘Those human feelings won’t last and soon you’ll be able to have any woman you want. With our feline powers you can...’

  ‘I don’t do so badly now, pal.’ Rex cringed, realising that he was bragging about his sexual expertise to a supernatural cat. ‘You don’t have to kill Amy.’

  ‘Of course we do. She knows everything, just like that mouthy brat back there.’

  ‘You’re going to kill Watson too? After Quist assassinates Silva...’

  ‘Ah, Bernard is somewhat different. Anyhow, don’t worry about Amy. You can have Fran.’

  ‘I thought she was your... girlfriend.’

  Strand chuckled. ‘Emotional relationships don’t rank highly with the Elite. Once you’re with us, you can screw her any time. She’s very good, as you already know.’