Fear Of Broken Glass: The Elements: Prologue

by Mark, David

  ‘So you were working some story?’

  She shrugged, surprised at the thought she ought not to tell him. ‘It was an old article that had never been finished by someone else.’ She looked at him, still feeling a need to unburden herself, then sat back, folding her arms around her legs as she looked up into that ever-grey sky. ‘A reporter from the Stockholm Daily News – that’s my paper.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He went missing.’

  ‘Just disappeared?’

  ‘Exactly,’ she whispered. ‘That lead me on to something... a roll of negatives. It was his last. So, I decided to take a look.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with Agard?’

  She suddenly became aware she was staring into space and blinked, returning her attention to Ash. ‘The reporter had discovered the painting. It was on a list. That list lead me to here.’

  She noticed Bok’s car pull out of the carpark and thought of what lay ahead. Was she really game for it? She suddenly felt drained, depleted. For the first time in days she thought of her little apartment in Stockholm. It was located on the third floor. It was nothing special, but right now she coveted it more than anything else in the world, her candles and her comfortable bed. She missed her bed. She missed her life, the old life. She missed that life, no cares in the world.

  ‘So... a reporter’s been killed then.’

  He said so matter-of-factly. Just another death. She felt it creeping back, into her: Fear.

  ‘I had this dream once.’ Ash said eventually.

  The feeling receded for a moment and she turned to him, wondering for a moment if he could read her thoughts.

  He was looking over the edge. ‘I fell off a cliff.’

  ‘And you flew?’

  ‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘I died.’ He looked up. ‘I woke up just before I was about to die. I can still picture it, as clear as if it happened this morning.’

  If he was trying to tell her something he was slow going about it. ‘I had one like that too,’ she raised a hand, feeling the need to let some of it out, at least a little. ‘I had one, it was when I was just a little girl.’ She turned and found him, her voice becoming small. ‘I was standing on the top of an iceberg. The wind was blowing, a storm was coming. There was nowhere to go, only stand there on the top all exposed. From that place there was nothing to see. Just ocean, wind and sky...there was a gust of wind. I lost my footing and slid close to the edge. Only then, looking down into the sea, about to fall, could I see anything of the place I was standing on.’ Ulrika walked closer to the edge of the great boulder, looking down past the dead remains of fallen trees, the ground falling steeply away from them towards the valley where Gustav Kron had once lived. ‘So much surf, waves crashing against the side of the ice spreading outwards, deep down into the sea... so big it was.’ She noticed a little robin red breast. ‘Outwards and downwards; so vast,’ she said quietly, ‘fading into the ocean.’ It flew down towards the homestead and alighted upon a tree. That was when she thought of Almquist.

  Ash stood close.

  She shook her head and looked at him. ‘There’s more.’ She could almost feel his heat. She needed it. She wanted it. She wondered where any of this was heading. She felt connected, she felt that now. She could never have thought it. It was just there. Images she didn’t want to see flashed past her mind in places she never wanted to go to again. But she knew she had to. ‘There was no way, no way to know what you were standing on, you know?’

  There was no way she could have known where the Pastor’s tale would lead, none at all... dead, he was. She hadn’t though about it until now. Who had killed the Pastor? Bok had been tight-lipped about it. He had never mentioned it on the drive back to the homestead.

  ‘Not unless you got so close to the edge, so you might not make it back at all.’ She could tell him. But everyone she told... she thought of a car found in the Stockholm canal. Drunk driving they called it. That was two murders, before all of this. How many more had there been in the past? She tried to shut it out, feeling suddenly cold and windblown, wondering how the death of a friend in Stockholm could possibly be connected with what had happened here.

  His voice sounded distant, ‘No ending, then.’

  ‘No.’ Was there an ending? ‘I was standing high on a mound of ice surrounded by mist, so much surf, nothing to see.’ There was for Almquist. She thought of Vikland and felt she could trust her. ‘The only way you could know anything about what was down there was by taking the fall.’ Vikland had to know more.

  A silence descended, as if to make an unknown point.

  Eventually, Ash looked across in a way she found comforting and reassuring. ‘I thought this was the end.’

  ‘It isn’t the end of anything...’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It’s the beginning.’

  She didn’t want it to be the beginning of anything.

  ‘The girl who quit: Her name was Angelica. She asked me to help her discover the truth.’

  ‘Guess you fucked up then...’

  ‘Yeah,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me about it.’

  Before she could pursue the thought any further, Ash placed an arm around her. She felt herself relax, an unfamiliar warmth working its way into her neck, then her head.

  ‘When you asked me to help you, were you asking me what I think you’re asking?’ He said, a smile playing lightly across his full lips.

  It worked it’s way down into her heart. She looked up into the big warm brown eyes knowing somehow she could aways trust Ash and knew then that the questions could wait. She smiled back. Had she made it that obvious? ‘Well... why not?’

  ‘That’s why this is the beginning.’ He leaned in to her and kissed her, soft and warm, filling her with hope. He pulled back, and lifted a hand to stroke her hair and she looked into him, feeling something new, forgetting for a moment all that had happened.

  The air stirred but it wasn’t the wind. And the bird sat in the tree and the tree swayed delicately in the breeze.

  Epilogue

  Odin could know beforehand

  the predestined fate of men

  or their not yet completed lot;

  And also bring on the death,

  ill-luck, or bad health of people,

  And take the strength or wit from one person

  and give it to another.

  Yngling saga

  Tiveden National Park.

  13th October 1987 (four days previous)

  If she were into girls, she’d go for that girl’s smile. A few discrete enquiries confirmed and surprised her. Take out the man first, the Voice had said. He will have a package on him. Make sure she doesn’t take it. It was an odd situation. So she became curious. That was when she knew, she would have let this one be, if she’d had her wits about her.

  Too late for that now.

  Ah now, Little Missy, this be a real shame.

  Maybe, it was because they had smiled, both of them. Perhaps because there had simply been too many bad people. Or him, the Voice, or that the times, they really were changin’. Anyway, she be feeling plenty naked, knowing somewhere out there someone was a-lookin’ at her through that scope. There was an observer out there, she’d been told. Watchin’ her, now, keepin’ an eye out’n’all. She tried not to think about it, just the nature of doin’ the job was all. If she always worked that way, not knowin’ who the customer was, she wouldn’t be workin’ anymore. She had to go through with it, or she’d be next. That pissed her proper it did.

  She found a space in front of his head, the girl at the top of the stairs takin’ one last step towards him. Then the woman, she’d been told’n’all. Two targets, double pay.

  If the girl takes the package, kill her too.

  So why would they want to take her out too, Little Missy?

  The wind was pickin’ up. But the wind wasn’t the one in her hair, or the one in the trees, or blowin’ them leaves over the ground. And her own voice was back inside her head, wo
ndering what it was Missy knew? She held still looking at that face, eye pressed tight to that black rubber cup. Him the Voice want you dead Missy.

  So what you be knowing?

  She released her breath, slowly, aim... aimin’, findin’ an empty, steady space. Between them. She applied pressure, thinkin’ of him the Voice and why. She knew him. She knew all her voices. She made it her job to know them. He worked for the Queen’s Country he did, the Voice. Why he want you dead Missy?

  What if there were others? She had asked. Then take them all out if you have to, he had replied. She thought of good old Bob. State sanctioned murder; they were a changin’ these times. Somethin’ was real wrong...

  Take them all out... men in places like that shouldn’t takin’ people out like Missy here.

  Stop thinking bitch.

  She looked back through the scope seeing faces. She was smilin’. Still, she had a nice smile, Missy did. And now, he was smilin’ too. They looked like normal people these people did.

  She should have taken the shot by now.

  She never paused to think, thinking wasn’t pro.

  So why should this job be any different?

  The Voice, he gave her the number and a place on the map, in case, he said. In case it all go to hell, he meant. And take her out too? Ah, the job no matter no more. She had the money she needed. Done all the jobs needed doin’. They even told her this was a bad-ass old place where people been killed and had eyes taken from bad-ass faces. She didn’t need his no-name number no more. The winds were blowin’ from old, goin’ in new directions. But that not make this feel much better, none of it. Not right, police business messin’ with people like this. Not right they call like that. The Voice, there be some song ‘bout that.

  She need more time, she had told him that, the Voice. Still, Missy had a real nice smile she did.

  There was no more time, him the bad Voice said.

  She knew then, she need to find the Voice.

  She done too many bad ass things.

  She was tired, that was all...

  She aimed between them.

  She took the shot.

  The wind blew.

  She missed.

  Falling.

  Done.

  No.

  The Elements

  Labyrinth Trilogy

  Everything has an origin

  7 elements 7 deceptions 7 revelations

  The Elements is a high-concept mystery thriller series set in the timeframe of the 20th century with the depth and breadth of vision of epic fantasy.

  In the quest for truth, to discover that truth will mean struggling to understand the lives and actions of the past. To reveal that truth means to remove it from the shadows of those who would not be found, those who would not enlighten, caught up in the tide of fate and time. To survive that truth will mean challenging the game masters who want to keep the mysteries just the way they are.

  The Labyrinth Trilogy

  The Elements books starts at the beginning.

  Angelica Lux is a young attractive analyst working for MI6, the British Secret Intelligence Service. When a preserved bog body is discovered in a bog in the grounds of a nobleman’s residence, Angelica is sent to Copenhagen to investigate.

  Their world was ending. Hers was just beginning. The first book in the elements pantheon Labyrinth 1 concerns fate and time, following Angelica’s experiences in London and Copenhagen. Her mission: Investigate the circumstances uniting the discovery of a preserved SS officer from the second world war in a forest bog and the murder of the survivors of the resistance cell called The Nightingales.

  The Labyrinth Trilogy

  The Labyrinth trilogy is a three-part examination of the Ancient Egyptian element darkness, Tenebris. Learn about what’s in store on elementamundi.com (for release summer 2017).

  Summer 1986: Lethragard, Denmark:

  A body is found in a Danish bog in the grounds of a residence of aristocracy wearing the uniform of the SS, mutilated with the Viking blood-eagle. Soon afterwards, a member of the Danish resistance cell called the Nightingales is murdered by the same method used during wartime liquidation operations. With possible connections with ongoing operations, British MI6 send analyst Angelica Lux to Copenhagen to investigate.

  What at first seems like an investigation into a past psychopathic killer, becomes a journey into liquidation actions of those who fought on both sides during the war. Questioning the true motives of her superiors, she becomes irrevocably involved in a labyrinthine network of past deeds and hidden agendas – where her quest for the hidden truth leads her into dark places and darker deeds.

  As her investigation takes her deeper into the past, Angelica begins the task of discovering the truth, meeting survivors of the resistance group and compiling tapes on their past deeds while the last remaining Nightingales are still left around to tell their tale. When the nature of the truth becomes more and more illusive, Angelica is left isolated, struggling to understand the true nature of her involvement, forced to overcome fear while navigating the delicate balance between morality, reason and a Count with a taste for fast drugs and faster women.

  Suspecting the Lethragard Estate’s past involvement is being covered up, Angelica turns to her only allies – the archaeological staff left to maintain the increasingly empty shell of a bogus excavation. When she realizes the only common denominator is a name, the one name that has not been mentioned in her brief – the Swedish archaeologist Karl Oskar Eklund, murdered four years previously, Angelica begins her journey into the underworld that is the Labyrinth.

  The Labyrinth trilogy is one evocative book, rich in detail, taking the reader into a journey of discovery, with repercussions no one can predict, least for all those caught in the tide of events they have become an inextricable part of.

  Next: Bonus Material

  Read the first chapter of Labyrinth Part 1...

  Labyrinth 1: Prologue

  et lux in tenebris lucet

  et tenebrae eam non conprehenderunt

  The Light shines in the darkness,

  and the darkness did not comprehend it.

  The Gospel Of John Verse 5, Chapter I

  Something really strange is going on at Lethragard...

  The Lethragard Estate. Seeland, Denmark.

  August 1986

  The driver of the excavator rattled the gear lever into neutral, frowning at the solitary bee. It was lit by a bright August sun, hovering. Then it moved to the side. First one way, then back again. It made another attempt, hitting the glass of the cabin, rebounding. It tried again, hitting the glass a third time. Then another; two bees, three and five, from where they came he knew not.

  A bee flew through the open window and into his face, another flying in circles, trying to get out. Then came the noise; deep, amplified by the dozens, then the hundreds, a dozen bees inside his cabin, then two dozen. He felt them stir the air around his hair and shot out his hand out for the door lever, opening the door to hundreds, jumping the three metal steps to the soft ground that was neither water nor earth but somewhere in-between. He ran forwards, looking over his shoulder as they consumed the vehicle, the trees and the air around them, the sound of the swarm growing into a storm: Bees in their thousands hitting the body panels, hitting the windshield; blotting out the trees around him, blotting out the land and the sky. Blotting out the light. Blotting out his thoughts, growing, multiplying; passing over, under, around. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

  He looked down at the excavation ditch and jumped blindly landing in soft, stinking mud and black water that coated his skin and soaked his clothes. Frightened. Fascinated. Fading. And then, it was as if they had never been there at all, the swarm obscuring other places, other trees, leaving the air once again clear and calm.

  Another worker dressed in a pair of blue overalls emerged white-faced from the woods, making for the man sitting up in his excavation pit.

  ‘Did you see that?’ The worker said, picking his way ac
ross the ground shouting excitedly. ‘Did you see that?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that...’ He looked down at the driver, eyes shining like king-carat diamonds.

  The driver became aware again of the rumble of his engine. How could he not have seen it? He had never seen a swarm before. He would never see a swarm again.

  ‘Why do they do that? Why?’ The worker shook his head again. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that...’ he repeated.

  He was standing erect, looking out across the open ground then back to the trench where the driver was staring at the ground into the mud. The same mud where he knew people were working up to their neck in it, wet and rank despite anything the heat of the sun could offer. All thoughts of bees faded, staring at one of those many holes made by himself in the course of the morning’s work. There, lying half-submerged in water. Something.

  He leaned forwards and reached out with his left gloved-hand to remove it, dark and leathery. He pulled it free and stood up in frantic haste, stumbling backwards, staring at the dead forearm of an even more dead person as dark, wet and odorless as the earth from where it came.

  Labyrinth 1: Chapter 1

  The sun shone, the insects buzzed, the swallows screeched, twisting and diving. Days had come, days had gone and all she had to show for all the work was a word – junk.

  They worked in a clearing next to primitive forms of shelter, temporary working and cleaning facilities for the people working out in the trenches. A site divided between clean and dirty, dirty places predominating. Canvas and plastic tarpaulins spread between trees, places accessed by paths of boards and sheets of ply. A lot of dirty places. Other than those oversized boxes on wheels they called site huts, placed higher uphill on each side of a hastily cleared access road sheltered by the trees: Offices, toilets, changing facilities and a canteen that could only be entered once the working clothes had been hosed clean and removed for drying.