by Gareth Lewis
Like finding the mole. IA'd like that. It might not help my case, but it can't hurt. And traitors spoil the game for everyone.
There must be a traitor. How else did Stone know about Marcy? Access to the police investigation is the only way.
I may not be as conversant with computers as Jake, but I know my way around our systems. And they haven't revoked my clearance yet.
Doing the basics isn't too hard anyway. Like checking who accessed the case files.
Other than me and Jake, only the captain and someone in IA. That'd presumable be Wolfe or Sinclair. No one unexpected then.
It'd hardly be a surprise for someone in IA to be crooked.
Captain Walters I can't believe. She's far too straight.
IA have an excuse for accessing them, of course. The case is related to the reasons for some of my actions.
Which of them's more likely to be crooked? Wolfe or Sinclair?
I try to run through the interviews, work out which of them could have had an agenda beyond the obvious.
No. I stop cold, a lump gathering in my stomach. Stupid. I didn't want to see it, so I didn't.
Stone wasn't questioning a witness. If he was following the investigation, his mole could keep him apprised. He wanted Marcy for her knowledge. And that wasn't in the system.
Only two of us know what she knows.
I've always known Jake was mildly crooked. But to be on a crook's payroll? Maybe Stone learned of his petty criminality and decided to promote him.
That was how Stone knew about Marcy. How he knew what I'd seen. I assumed Marcy had told him, but she wouldn't need to.
And I missed it.
There's no proof, of course. Would I turn Jake in if there was?
I'm not sure.
I have to assume Stone knows everything I told Jake. Which is most of it.
I didn't tell him where the angel was. Didn't want him barging in. But he knows Marcy knows where to find one. I have to warn her.
And then? What do I do about him?
Try and entrap him? Pointless until I decide if I'm going to turn him in.
Use him to get Stone? Would that get me out of this hole with IA?
The hell with it. I've never been that manipulative. Not in a subtle way. He may've lied to me for years, but I won't do the same.
I'll confront him, see where that leads.
I run a quick trace on his location. Another misuse of department resources they can add to the list.
He's at the Apollo. Why?
Maybe he's joined the surveillance team. Or is it something else? Something for Stone.
And I realise I have only Jake's word that there is a surveillance team.
At least I know the way.
33
It's dark when I reach the hotel.
Unless the surveillance is hidden in some darkened room on the darkened street, I suspect Jake may've lied. I can't see any of our cars in the surrounding streets, other than his.
Which isn't to say the place isn't under surveillance, but I'm sure the idiot being a bit too obvious in his car is one of Carlisle's people. The suit's too smart for a pretentious thug. I could run him off, but doubt that'll discourage them long. Don't know it'll do me much good, but at least I know he's here.
I ignore him as I approach the hotel. I'm not sure I can get in around back, and can't be bothered looking.
Marcy was okay when I called, and promised to find somewhere safe to lie low for a while. That's one problem hopefully delayed. A few others left to choose from.
I'll deal with Jake first.
I ascend the stairs quietly, the light from my phone leading the way until I spot another light. Guess which floor?
Stepping into the corridor and letting the door close behind me, I freeze. It takes my mind a moment to catch up with the reality of the scene. Although I feel little real surprise.
I should.
I knew something was wrong with Jake. The understandable shock of the revelation we'd experienced. And I know it seems to break everyone eventually.
Even so, finding him standing over a dead body should be a shock.
The gun's slack in his hand, and he seems lost. No doubt he's recently experienced the demon. At least five minutes ago, or I'd have heard the shot.
I recognise the dead guy. One of Stone's men from the other night. Which makes it likely Jake also killed the other one, Eden. That's why he wasn't tired when he picked me up.
I draw my gun with reluctance and aim it at him. 'Jake.'
No response. He's probably still out of it.
'Drop the gun, Jake.'
There's no reaction for a moment. Then his head tilts, as though finally hearing. He starts to turn.
'Slowly,' I say.
He slows, a perplexed look edging the euphoria from his face. His eyes finally focus on me, and he gets a vacant smile.
Then he sees my gun, which causes some confusion. It takes a moment for him to remember he's also armed. 'Oh.'
Jake leans slowly down to place his on the floor, then kicks it towards me.
He still looks puzzled. Until, glancing around he spots the body. 'What? That?' He waves dismissively at it. 'Come on. Haven't I covered for you enough times?'
'For murder?'
'For killing scumbags.'
'Not like this. I gave them a choice.' This guy's hand is in his jacket. He'd probably been going for his gun, but it was too late by that point. I doubt we could cover this up, even if I wanted to.
I pick up the gun Jake surrendered. Not his regulation piece. Its disposable.
Jake's snort sounds incredulous. 'Right. So are you going to shoot me now?'
'Not if I can help it. You've been killing Stone's men then?'
He shrugs.
'Why?' I ask. 'You think you can kill your way free of his hold on you?'
'What? No. That wouldn't work. They were just convenient and expendable. He rarely talks to me direct, so I use those he's contacted me through.'
'So why?' But the answer is obvious. They're not left here to appear linked to Mortimer. He's worse than I thought. 'You wanted to see the demon.'
Jake frowns. 'No, I... Not want. It’s hideous. But mesmerising. I can't believe it’s real. I need to know. I needed to see it again. You know. You must know. Don't you feel the urge?'
'I never want to see it again.'
He stares at me, uncomprehending. I'm close enough now to see his eyes glaze over as memories of the thing return. There's a thread of euphoria there, mixed with something else around the edges. The panic of a fractured mind.
He's not well. He needs help. I'm not sure he'd accept it though.
'Hands on your head,' I say.
That draws him back from his reverie. 'What? Really?'
'You have another piece?'
'I was planning to kill a bad guy. Of course I have another piece. At my belt, around back. Not like they're not already jumpy with the other guy being killed. They'll be worse after this.'
'Hands on your head,' I say again.
He doesn't move. He simply glances around in distraction. 'Stone won't be happy about it. I'll be dead anyway.'
'Don't,' I say.
'Don't what?'
'Don't think about forcing me to kill you.'
'Why not?' asks Jake. 'Look, we can set everything so the forensics line up. You can even come out of it the hero. Except for the killing your partner part.'
'You think I want to shoot you?'
Jake frowns. 'To be honest I didn't think you'd care.'
'What?'
'Killing never seems to bother you.'
'You really think I'd feel nothing from killing you?' Is this him, or the madness? Or is he trying to goad me? And, if I'm honest, would I feel anything? I know I should, but can't be sure I would.
'Well, no,' says Jake.
'How long have we been partners?'
'Around three years.'
Two years, eleven months, to be more accurate. I've lost track of the
days. 'And after all that time you honestly think I could just shoot you?'
'Yes.'
I stare at him for a moment. 'Keep going. I'm starting to want to shoot you.'
'That's the Blake I know and love,' says Jake.
'Somewhere non-fatal. But painful.'
'Oh, come on. Doesn't our time together mean anything to you? Make it fatal.'
'You really want to die here?' I ask. 'With that thing waiting?'
He glances around, his expression somewhere between exultation and dread. 'I don't want to die at all. But we've all got it coming. If that's where my soul's headed, what does it matter if it's this one or another that takes me.'
'We don't know all souls face that fate.'
'Hopeful doesn't work on you.'
'Not hopeful,' I say. 'We don't know everything about these things. Hell, we only know a few things, all of which could be wrong. And what if I don't shoot you? Will you shoot me?'
He opens his mouth, then closes it again, unused. 'Come on. Be a pal. Aren't I just a criminal now?'
'You're traumatised. It's understandable.'
'And how would I explain that in my defence against the murder charges?'
He's right, of course. It'd be a difficult argument to get across without convincing someone of what we saw. We can probably convince them of PTSD. Which may be part of what he's got anyway. It's murder. Unless we can present it as more justified.
Who am I kidding? I'm too suspect to ever get that accepted.
I need to get him help. But I'm pretty sure I can't just convince him to get it.
'Is there anything I can do to stop you killing again?' I ask.
He glances back along the corridor, then sighs and turns those haunted eyes on me. 'Only killing me.' He gives a tired little laugh, almost giddy. 'I hate it. The image of it is seared into my eyes, and I can't stand it, so why am I compelled to come back here and try to see it again and again?'
He can't stop. Not on his own. Not while he's on the loose. 'Jacob Reilly, you're under arrest.'
'Don't call me Jacob. You know I hate that.'
'I have to warn you that the claims you've made about feeding souls to a demon make you seem mentally unstable, so you should let your lawyer know what you've said.'
He gives me a tired look. 'The nuthouse rather than the big house. That's your plan.'
'Just tell the truth. It's obvious you believe it.'
Jake shakes his head. But he reluctantly puts his hands up and turns his back to me.
I advance, take each hand in turn down behind his back and cuff him.
'I still wish you'd shoot me,' he says.
The stair door opens behind me before I can respond. I spin, using Jake as a shield and taking aim.
Two thugs are through before they register us. They drop gas cans and draw guns.
Gas cans? Maybe talking with Marcy convinced Stone he'd doesn't need to keep feeding the thing. He could have timed it better.
Stone himself emerges next. It's a few moments for him to take in the scene, and recognise the body. His eyes harden as he focusses on Jake. He hesitates as he seems to recognise something in Jake's eyes. A familiar fracture.
Stone sighs, speaking in a weary tone. 'He killed my men.'
'For which he'll be charged,' I say. Probably more hopeful than I usually bother being, but I'm not giving him up.
'I don't think so.'
'He's my prisoner,' I say.
'And your partner. You'll forgive my scepticism.'
'You think these cuffs are foreplay?'
'Walk away,' says Stone. 'It'll be easier with only one dead cop. Especially given the evidence.'
'Not happening.'
Stone glares at me. He's trapped. He can't let the murder of his men go unpunished. He'll look weak. 'What do you care? You shoot criminals.'
'You really want to remind me of that right now?'
The tension of his flunkies, already high, elevates.
He can't back down, and I won't. There's really only one way this ends, and it's not talking it out. I may as well get the first shot in.
I shoot one of the thugs in the shoulder as I shove Jake at the nearest doorway.
34
'This is dumb,' says Jake.
I flinch back as another bullet hits the doorpost opposite, and find it hard to argue. They've got us pinned, no telling how many reinforcements for them downstairs, and we've no chance of calling out. It's not ideal.
'Uncuff me or give me up,' says Jake.
I reach around the corner and fire blindly, to keep them back. They also likely have more ammunition, so I need to fire conservatively. I've already emptied Jake's main piece, leaving me with my main one and the two backups.
I heard them move the gas cans a minute ago, no doubt getting them out of the firing line.
'Where's your phone?' I ask Jake.
'Inside jacket pocket. But if yours isn't working, why think mine'll be any different?'
'I don't,' I say as I rummage for his. 'But we might as well try.'
It's no better than mine though.
'How do you think this ends?' Stone calls from whatever cover he has. 'You think the gunshots will draw attention? In this neighbourhood? You keep this up, I may just leave you in here and torch the building.'
'Why haven't you?' While he's inclined to talk, I may as well let him. Time is on his side, but it's not as though I've any better options.
'Because I want to kill that little shit myself.' Or be seen by his men to do so, for the sake of his authority.
If I were him, I'd have sent someone round to the back stairs on the next floor down, so they could sneak up along the corridor from the other direction while he's talking to us. They're unlikely to want to advance while he's shooting.
I angle myself best I can to watch for movement back that way.
'Give me my gun,' says Jake. 'Let me go out shooting. I'm dead, but you may as well have a chance.'
'I won't. I witness them killing you, you think he'd let this end without me dead or in his pocket? Unlike you, I can't live with that.'
That gets some profanity aimed my way. 'You think I wanted it? I inherited this shit. I don't do this, Stone reveals what he has on my father. Come on, at least give me a chance to get the bastard. Or maybe we could kill them all.'
'How many you think he has with him?' I ask. 'He wants this floor destroyed, so he's making sure. But he likely wants the rest of the place too, so he'll have guys downstairs spreading gas. And they could already have called in more guns.'
The silence is suddenly broken by a muffled gunshot. Not nearby. Probably downstairs.
'Hey, Stone,' I call. 'You did spot the cultist watching the hotel, didn't you? Because they probably don't want it burned down.'
The silence grows more pointed.
Apparently they weren't aware of them. Though Jake no doubt informed Stone about Carlisle.
With Stone's forces dispersed, the cultists will have the advantage. Could Stone get reinforcements here in time? Without also drawing police attention. Even in this neighbourhood, an extended gunfight could draw notice.
'There are back ways out,' I call to him.
No response.
I don't particularly want him using them though, since he could set up and wait for us to come out. But suggesting it loudly will make him reluctant to order his men out that way. It'll look like he's listening to me.
There's a faint sound of movement back along the corridor. Whoever he sent to circle around is getting in position. He'll be close to this side of the corridor. There was no furniture in the way.
Lying flat, I put the gun around the corner and fire a couple of shots low and close to the wall.
I get a pained yelp, and the sound of someone falling. Probably a leg wound.
'Sorry,' I shout. 'Was that one of yours?'
My question is overwhelmed by a volley of gunfire from Stone's direction. I duck back from the edge as the opposite doorpost is furth
er shredded.
Stone sharply orders them to conserve bullets, and the shooting stops again. Up here. There's still the occasional shot from down below.
There's the sound of someone dragging their wounded leg away, but it's otherwise eerily quiet. Until the sloshing, accompanied by the odour of gasoline. He's given up playing.
At least they've stopped shooting at us.
Can I use the fire? Try to ignite it before they're ready. They'll expect us to run, so will probably try to get out back before us and set up. He may already have dispatched someone. Either way, this seems like our only opportunity.
'Ready to move?' I whisper to Jake.
'Faster uncuffed.'
'Not happening.'
We crouch by the door, and I have the gun ready. I'll also have to deal with the idiot who tried sneaking up on us, but let's get a fire going first.
We duck back from the door at a burst of gunfire. But it isn't coming our way. It's back down the corridor, near the gas.
Presumably the cultists are here. Which could be the diversion we need.
As soon as I glance around the corner the bullets are flying this way, pushing Stone back. He's hit, and stumbles into the doorway as he falls.
I kick the gun from his hands before he can recover his senses. From the look of the holes in him, I doubt it'd matter much.
He grabs my trouser leg, his grip flimsy. He inhales a shallow, damp, breath. 'Don't let it take me,' he pleads. There's panic in his eyes, as he glances about for something that isn't yet here.
As though there's anything I could do to stop it. I suppose I could throw him out the window. But then he's gone, and we won't have time to drag him over there.
His other hand drops from the ridiculous bullet medallion he always wears. It's of no use in any weapon I know of. Any firearm, anyway. But it occurs to me it may fit a different kind of weapon. I snatch it free and shove it in my pocket, then grab his gun and check Jake is ready to move.
My stomach starts to clench, announcing the demon's approach. I need to get Jake out before it snares his attention. Before I can lean far enough out for a proper look, a volley of gunfire forces me back.
At least three guys, though only one actively firing.
Before I can try to force them onto the defensive, I get that disturbingly familiar sensation. The nausea that seems to start in my head.