by Ian Jarvis
‘You’re stupid even to think of running.’ Strand gestured to Atwill. ‘You wouldn’t get twenty feet before he changed to feline form and caught you.’
Atwill nodded. ‘Then I’d bite off a kneecap to prevent you trying again.’
Gulping, Rex watched Fran climb out with Amy. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Oh yeah,’ muttered Amy. ‘Just wonderful!’
Fran smoothed out her short dress and eyed the doctor. Amy was petrified, but hid it well. Fear before slaughter tainted the meat of most creatures, but humans were different. The greater the terror, the better the taste. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, but fright left the blood so much sweeter.
‘For goodness sake, smile,’ said Fran, giggling. ‘Cheer up, Amy. It might never happen.’
‘Oh, I think it probably will,’ said Strand. He clasped a pair of shiny handcuffs on Fran’s wrists. ‘Those should pass for silver and you’ll certainly pass for my prisoner.’ He took her arm and pushed Rex across the snowy lawn to the entrance porch. ‘Come along now. Let’s not keep Lucius waiting.’
‘Good evening, Sir.’ Costigan, one of the security team, admitted them into the lobby. ‘I wasn’t informed you’d be bringing Doctor Stapleton.’ He ran an eye over Amy and Rex. ‘And who are they?’
‘They’re here to be questioned by the President.’ Strand brushed snowflakes from his suit. ‘Doctor Zucco will be arriving soon with a third human.’
‘Yes, Sir.’ The guard watched as they walked into the lift, waiting until the doors had closed before lifting the phone.
Silva had just finished speaking to Galeen on the external line when the lobby light flashed. ‘Yes?’ he said.
‘Strand and Atwill are here,’ said Costigan. ‘With Stapleton and two humans.’
‘Yes, Galeen said they must have left the asylum before he arrived.’
‘Strand says Zucco will be following.’
‘He’s mistaken,’ said the President.
***
The lift arrived at the fourth floor, opening onto a wide passage where Holland and Boam, two of Silva’s security squad, waited by the conference room. Rex looked around. The black-suited guards with their Uzis, the ceiling hi-tech robo-sentries and the steel elevator all combined to give him a feeling of Deja Vu. This could be a scene from a Bond movie, a series of films he’d studied in preparation for his Marines training. Silva’s guards turned, eyes blazing green and smiles exposing cat fangs, and the 007 illusion instantly vanished.
‘After you.’ Strand pushed Rex and lowered his voice to speak with Atwill. ‘Wait out here. You know what to do when Zucco and Quist arrive.’
Atwill hung back as the guards opened the chamber. Rex glanced at their silenced Uzis–obviously standard pussy issue–and shuddered to see the congregation of shapeshifters staring malevolently from the circular table.
‘Ah, Doctor Stapleton.’ The President eyed her handcuffs with unguarded amusement. ‘Are you aware that your progress report on the eye droplets is overdue?’
Fran and Strand exchanged looks. He was supposed to be surprised at her appearance.
‘You’ve brought friends, Matthew.’ Silva smiled courteously at Amy and Rex. ‘Well no need to stand. Three chairs are spare, although they require dusting.’
Strand turned to the seats where Tayman, Quarry and Peel always sat, and the piles of crimson ash on the leather.
***
Holland and Boam watched quietly as Atwill paced the corridor and reached in his jacket for a cigar.
‘Not out here.’ Boam pointed to the ceiling. ‘The smoke detectors.’
‘Oh!’ he frowned. ‘Then where can I...’
‘Please...’ Holland opened the room where Sharp died three nights ago and waved him inside. ‘Through here.’
The doctor frowned suspiciously at the plastic sheet covering the floor, and stiffened as something pressed against his spine. He heard the splutter and saw the scarlet explosion beneath his chin. Atwill’s medical specialisation was psychiatry and anatomy classes were a vague memory from the distant past. Had his heart and lungs been surgically removed and laid out, he’d have recognised them, but shredded and blown through his chest like this, there was no chance.
Holland changed magazines on the machine pistol as Atwill crumpled onto the plastic, then closed the door on the stench.
Chapter 64
The Ferrari flew along the moorland lane. Braking hard at a junction, Watson threw the black car into a sickening spin, bounced it off the verge, and regained control to squeal down the road towards Birchley village.
‘Be careful!’ The wolf opened its eyes. ‘These Pennine roads are covered in snow. Go right at the village and...’
‘Listen, Fido,’ stammered Watson. ‘When I want safety advice and directions from a fuckin’ overgrown Doberman, I’ll ask, okay?’
The wolf shrugged. ‘Okay.’
The car skidded to a halt at the hamlet. ‘Er...’ Watson peered around. ‘So which way?’
‘Right,’ said Quist, patiently. ‘Head towards Stalybridge and central Manchester.’
‘You’re going to follow them?’
‘Rex and Amy will soon be dead, or worse, and I’m entirely to blame. I can’t possibly abandon them. I can’t leave Strand and Stapleton either. Remember the things they know and the items they planted in my cottage?’
‘So what are you going to do? Kill them?’ Watson accelerated. ‘This is crazy, Guv. We’ve no idea where they’re going.’
‘Silver Security Systems is on the waterfront.’ The wolf held out a paw. ‘Amy’s mobile, please.’
Watson handed him the phone and watched deadpan as he clumsily began searching Google Earth with furry taloned fingers.
***
The saloons on the A635 garage forecourt provided excellent camouflage. Speeding vehicles never noticed Tony and Derek in their parked police car.
‘Whooo!’ said Tony, sitting up behind the wheel. ‘Check this out.’
‘Nice one.’ A Ferrari shot by and Derek turned off the boxing match on his phone radio. ‘Let’s do it.’
Tony hit the siren and tore off the forecourt, cursing to see the F50 pull over down the road.
‘I thought he’d put his foot down,’ snapped Derek.
‘What’s he playing at?’ Tony cruised past to park the patrol car in front. ‘I was hoping for a good chase.’
Lowering the glass, Watson took a deep breath as the officers swaggered through the snowstorm.
Tony had only been with the force two years, but his nasal drawl already contained the condescending superiority and sarcasm perfected by traffic police the world over. ‘Evening, Sir. With respect, have you heard of speed limits?’ He bit his tongue. He’d used respect and sir before noticing it was a black teenager.
Derek had noticed, and his tone was professionally tailored to suit. ‘What’s your game, Sooty? I know it’s a stupid question, but is this Ferrari yours?’
‘Not really,’ admitted Watson. ‘Sorry about the speed, but it’s an emergency.’
‘Emergency?’ Tony chuckled. ‘Run out of ganja, have you?’
‘It’s my dog. He’s hurt his leg and I’m taking him to a vet.’
The monster in the passenger seat leant across and held up a paw for inspection. The policemen gaped at the glowing eyes, then slowly turned to the gun in the footwell. Wagging its tail, the wolf grinned and gave a pained whimper.
‘Get...’ coughed Tony ‘Get out of that fuckin’ car right now.’
Slamming into reverse, Watson threw the F50 backwards, span the wheel and screeched around the patrol car.
‘Shit!’ Derek scrabbled for his radio. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’
Tony tore it from him. ‘You won’t believe this,’ he babbled, ‘but we’ve got a
black kid with a fuckin’ pet wolf. He’s driving a Ferrari west towards the city centre.’
Derek snatched it back. ‘And he’s got a fuckin’ machine gun.’
***
Police sirens wailed as the Ferrari took a roundabout anti-clockwise sending the Manchester traffic into the kind of chaos normally only seen on stock car circuits. The wolf winced as Watson launched them into yet another heart-stopping skid.
‘I thought you could drive?’ he growled.
‘I can drive.’ The youth glanced at the police cars in the mirror. ‘What the fuck do you call this? Knitting?’
‘Just out of interest, who taught you?’
‘Mates let me have a go in their cars, but I picked up most of what I know from computer games.’
‘Ah!’ Quist raised what passed for eyebrows and turned back to the satnav map on Amy’s mobile.
‘I’m doing better than usual. On the computer, I’ve normally killed myself by now.’
Slamming into third, he took a corner on two wheels to turn onto Chorlton Road, then dropped to second and stamped the accelerator. With a Ferrari, this was like pulling the trigger of a gun.
‘Your driving is certainly different.’ Flattened by G-force, Quist watched the bright shops strobe past. ‘They’d queue all day for this at Disneyworld.’
‘You’re the problem,’ shouted Watson. ‘You’re shitting me up. Why the hell don’t you change back to normal?’
‘Call me pessimistic, but there’s a teensy chance you’ll crash and we’ll end up on foot. I run faster on four legs and I’m naked.’
Flashing blue light filled the road ahead. Watson checked the mirror. ‘Shit! We’re sandwiched and they’re parking across the street.’ He mounted the pavement. ‘Hang on.’
‘Ah!’ said Quist. ‘The Computer College of Motoring obviously covers roadblocks. Damn! The lights are red.’
‘What lights?’ Horns drowned the youth’s question as the F50 shot over the busy crossroads. ‘Oops! I don’t reckon we had the right-of-way there.’
‘I couldn’t say. My eyes were shut.’
‘Well, not to worry.’ Watson checked the mirror again. ‘The cops are having problems getting through the traffic stream.’
‘Okay, slow down so we don’t attract attention.’ Quist consulted the map. ‘Turn left, then take the second right.’
Watson pulled into a quiet street lined with businesses closed for the evening.
‘Reverse down there.’ The wolf nodded to a dark, narrow alley leading to one of the empty office car parks. ‘Hopefully the police will assume we raced off.’
Braking and spinning in the tail, the teenager killed the lights and inky shadow shrouded the car. Prising his soaking fingers from the wheel, he slumped back onto the headrest with a practically orgasmic sigh, finally able, for the first time since escaping the cell, to slacken the taut mass of intestinal knots. Luminous yellow eyes blinked in the darkness, the realisation of what he was sitting beside hit home and the abdominal boy scouts went back to work with a vengeance. Several seconds passed before Watson cleared his throat.
‘So, er, don’t you think it’s time you explained?’
‘Explained what?’
‘What?’ Manic laughter escaped. ‘How come you’re a fuckin’ werewolf?’
‘Oh, yes, that,’ said Quist.
Chapter 65
The plan was simple. Strand would explain how he’d exposed a plot: Stapleton had perfected a sunscreen with which she hoped to sway the Committee into dumping Silva in favour of her. She’d been aided by Quarry and three human doctors–Amy, Rex, and Quist–who were promised feline immortality for their services. While the President reeled in shock and the Committee were captivated by the Solstice, Quist would be brought in by Zucco. Silva had nothing to fear from a defenceless human and the werewolf would get close. Close enough to tear off his head while Atwill kept the guards busy outside. Strand would take command, and thanks to the cream and the droplets, he’d be hailed as the saviour of the Elite and the new President.
The Committee shuffled uncomfortably at the conference table. Rex, Amy and Fran stood in silence, the latter staring at the red dust. Silva knew something! From his suave manner and the unhealthy condition of Quarry, that was obvious.
‘Forgive my tardiness.’ Strand sprawled in the chair opposite the President and unbuttoned his jacket. ‘But I think you’ll find this was worth the wait.’ Despite his coolness, he felt as relaxed as a tightrope walker with hiccups, but the only option now was to bluff it out until Quist showed.
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Matthew.’ Silva gave a sham look of puzzlement. ‘But didn’t I say I had no wish to see Doctor Stapleton?’
‘You did, but I uncovered some disturbing facts in York and I knew you’d want to question her. She’s been plotting against you. These two helped her, along with another human who’ll be arriving shortly with Zucco.’
Rex wrapped his arm around Amy, holding her close, as the white-haired shapeshifter ran an indifferent eye over them. So this was the character who Quist was supposed to kill? He didn’t look strong, but the aura of evil power was so intense, you’d have felt it behind lead shielding.
‘How interesting.’ Silva nodded politely to Rex and waved them towards the empty seats. ‘Please, young man, brush away that dusty mess and sit down.’
Rex didn’t move and held tightly onto Amy. The terrified girl eyed the Ubasteri and the huge Egyptian statue of Bast beside the door, clamping her teeth to prevent them chattering.
‘You’re clearly aware of this treachery.’ Strand motioned to the dust. ‘Tayman, Quarry, and Peel were involved too and...’
‘Yes, I’m aware,’ said Silva. ‘I’m aware of Quarry’s part in this conspiracy. I’m aware that Peel was Stapleton’s Yorkshire Controller and guilty of incompetence. Tayman was guilty of... well, being Tayman. I’ve decided to purge our society, Matthew. To rid it of disloyal elements. I explained this to Tayman earlier. So as not to miss the meeting, he was brought on a shovel.’ He gestured to the cat creature’s ashes and pressed the intercom.
‘Yes, Sir?’ Boam’s voice barked from the speaker.
Silva’s eyes stayed on Strand. ‘Is Doctor Atwill still out there?’
‘No, Sir. We’ve vacuumed him up.’
Strand and Fran exchanged fleeting glances. He knew, but how could he? And how much did he know? It was time to begin wooing the Committee.
‘I have something you all must see.’ Strand produced a tub and a bottle from his pocket. ‘Something which...’
‘Ah, the eye protection I ordered,’ enthused Silva. ‘And the Solstice too.’
‘How?’ Strand couldn’t have looked more astounded had the President broken into song. ‘How could you possibly...’
Holland and Boam entered carrying guns. They were followed by a red-haired girl.
‘Nicole?’ gasped Amy. ‘Nicole, what are you doing here? I don’t understand.’
Sarah smiled and the light glinted on her cat fangs.
Silva watched as Amy’s legs buckled and she sat at the circular table with Rex. ‘You must be Doctor Clarkson,’ said the President. ‘Sarah here told me all about you.’
‘Sarah?’ Amy gave Gillette’s secretary a bewildered look. ‘So you’re not called Nicole Patterson?’
Silva stroked the redhead’s arm. ‘No, Sarah replaced the real Miss Patterson at your laboratory when I became suspicious of Doctor Stapleton.’ He ran a quizzical eye over Rex. ‘I’m sorry, young man, but I’m afraid I don’t know you.’
‘Rex Grant.’ He sullenly dusted dried cat from his jeans. ‘Your friends here murdered my brother’s fiancé.’
‘How terrible.’ Silva turned to Strand. ‘But not as terrible as betrayal, Matthew. My security have just had an educational chat wit
h Quarry.’ He pointed to a cooling poker in a bucket by the wall. ‘He was most enlightening after the insertion of white-hot metal. Will Gillette was also informative after Sarah mesmerised him. He told her all about Stapleton’s covert research and their amazing success. I assume you have the Solstice data disc with you?’
Strand turned to the door where Holland and Boam stood, his eyes drifting over their guns. ‘So I assume you know everything?’
‘Virtually. I’m afraid Holland was overenthusiastic with his anal probing. The heated poker burnt into Quarry’s heart before he could explain how you intended to kill me.’
‘Kill you?’ Strand feigned astonishment as he spotted his chance - keep him talking until Quist arrived. ‘It’s pointless now denying my ambitions to take over the Presidency, but assassination was never part of the plan.’
‘Oh?’ Sitting back, Silva crossed his legs. ‘Perhaps you should explain why you’d want to depose me.’
Strand dropped his eyes, furtively checking his watch. ‘I felt new leadership would be advantageous to our people.’
‘Ah, for the good of the Elite?’ Silva pointed to Fran’s handcuffs. ‘We’ve established that you’re not Matthew’s prisoner, so why don’t you remove those silly things and sit down, my dear? We both know they’re not silver.’
Pulling a derisive face, Fran flicked open the fake manacles and flopped into the vacant chair beside Strand.
‘So apparently you’re unhappy?’ Silva raised his eyebrows. ‘Unhappy with everything I’ve achieved? The way I’ve streamlined, protected and governed our people? The security I’ve introduced?’
Strand shrugged. ‘The early days were excellent, Lucius, and I can’t argue with the benefits you brought, but seven decades is a long time and things need to change. Everything needs to change eventually. Salford Quays–this entire area outside–was one of the busiest British ports, but they closed it down and turned it into what we have now. That move generated countless billions and gave birth to thousands of businesses, including this one. Things that don’t progress stagnate and we’re all beginning to feel stifled.’