by Ian Williams
“You’re crazy, you want to take us that close to Isaac’s centre tower thing?” Graham said.
“Hang on a second, Graham.” Stephen moved out of the edge of the group and took his place beside the others. He too began to pick at the scattered remains of the plan. “Don’t forget, this will be the last thing Isaac’s forces will be expecting us to do. With that in mind we could make it most of the way, possibly even past this area here,” he pointed on his chosen map for the others to see, “before they even realise what’s happening.”
Graham could not argue with Stephen’s logic there, he had clearly thought it through. It still had no effect on the sense of impending doom Graham had begun to feel. There was no more room for doubt, but still he was not as confident as the rest of them. Not even Alex appeared to see the black cloud of insecurity hanging above their human companion.
The time had come for him to commit without another moment’s hesitation. With him were beings about to take their last chance of survival. They did not need him becoming a problem along the way. After all, if they failed, he would be torn apart just as they would be. Nothing could go wrong from this point on.
“Are we agreed then?” Stephen said, looking around the table for the confirmations from each. He received a resounding ‘yes’ from the group before finally landing on Graham again. “Graham? Well?”
An image of his family popped to the front of his mind as he stared ahead at the messy table. He could see Jane and Alex sitting on the beach with two oversized ice-cream cones dripping white goo down the sides. It was one he often thought of when realising just how lucky a person he was. The memory had the weight behind it that he needed to push him into action. That single image had enough power over him to make his mind up once and for all.
He wanted more than anything in the world to see them again. There were so many new memories waiting to be made between them all. He could not bear the thought of missing out on any of them.
“I’m in,” he said after a worrying moment of silence.
Alex sat staring at him with a large smile and a slight twinkle in her eyes. It became clear to him how such a vivid memory could have come out of nowhere like it had; she had guided him to it. He understood the message and her reasons for tampering with his mind, but he could not exactly agree with her method though. If they made it to safety he really needed to ask her not to do such a thing again, it was a little rude.
“Excellent,” Kindness said as the group dispersed. He clapped his hands together, removing the table and all of its loose paperwork in a flash. He then looked to his people and spoke with his booming voice again, calling out like a megaphone at full volume. “Get ready to leave. We move in ten minutes!”
Chapter 22
Who goes there?
10pm, Friday: 2 hours until Switchover
Time alone had given Conrad a chance to gather his evidence together in one convenient – albeit imaginary – place in his mind. With his eyes closed he could see it all hovering in front of his eyes, just like it did in his beloved holographic evidence room. It helped calm him down a little to imagine more friendly surroundings rather than the empty room.
The last time he had seen the Mayor, neither of them had been in a very chatty mood. Mayor Crawley’s injuries were bad, but not quite as bad as Conrad had expected. It appeared their kidnappers had a limit on the damage they were to cause him. Despite the specks of blood where the Mayor had last sat, he had only suffered a broken finger and a face full of bruises. His change in mood had come about for another reason.
Conrad only hoped that did not mean he had told them what they needed. If he had, their time there would be cut short – their lives too. It had now been well over an hour since Mayor Crawley had returned this time.
So was he chatting to the enemy?
An ache in Conrad’s left leg forced him to stretch it out in front of him. With the remains of the chair no more than pieces of kindling upon the floor, he had been left with only the concrete to rest on. What he would give for a cushion. It was a quick reminder of exactly where he had ended up. His imaginary evidence room could wait while he tried to find a comfortable position.
After a minute or so of shuffling in place to relieve the cramp in his body, he finally stopped and attempted to return to his thoughts again. His concentration had escaped him for the time being. He was not getting anywhere anyway. All he had managed to come up with so far involved nothing more than a crazy conspiracy theory. Could the Mayor know more than he let on?
He felt his limbs tense the instant a footstep echoed down the hall toward his cell. The threat of his turn being soon had reverberated around inside his skull each time they had come back. This time was no different. He would not help them take him. If they wanted him, they would have to drag him the entire way.
The footsteps stopped just outside his cell.
“Step away from the door,” the person on the other side said. His words were muffled, so Conrad knew he wore a mask like the others. Keeping their identities a secret seemed a tad pointless to him; they were going to kill their captives afterwards anyway, so why bother? “If you’re going to try anything, know that I’ve got a Taser pistol on me this time.”
Then get ready to use it, buddy, Conrad thought.
The door opened much slower than the last few times. They were expecting another fight. Little did they know Conrad had neither the strength nor interest in another round with them. He welcomed a knockout shot from the Taser though. It would make the job of sliding him along the floor much easier for them and a lot more comfortable for him too.
“Get up,” the masked man ordered.
Conrad ignored him and continued to face the far wall. The man then kicked him from behind, the thick boot digging a sore rib.
How you gonna play this one then, buddy boy!
“Look, Conrad, we only want to talk to you, OK, that’s all.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“We believe you.”
Bravo, you’ve got my attention, Conrad thought as he slowly turned to face the man. He was not expected that as a reply.
“Good,” the man continued. “Now, if you’ll follow me.” He stepped aside and allowed Conrad the room to pass him by.
For a short while he considered staying in place, just to see if the guy would turn nasty. But there was something to his tone that had Conrad wondering. Pushing his luck too far, he could possibly end his chances of discovering the enemy’s motive. They were not acting on random impulses, he knew that much. There was a plan behind their actions, one he had not even found a hint of so far.
He deliberated after standing and focused on the scuffs on the floor. His previous attempt at causing them trouble had failed miserably and quickly. It was not worth bothering again. Through this train of thought he came to a decision soon after and walked to the door. He would keep the man in front of him at all times, to guarantee no chance of taking him unawares.
“That way,” the man said, pointing down the dark hallway. Even in here the windows were covered.
Without his wrist computer Conrad could not tell the time of day, only that it had to be night by then.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked as they walked. Despite the awkwardness, he kept his head looking to the side to keep the man in view.
“Just keep going.”
At the end of the hall and through an open door was another dark room. This one appeared much larger than his cramped cell, but no more welcoming to be led into. It had little to no lighting, only enough to highlight an empty chair – from the same set as the one Conrad had used earlier – sitting in the centre.
“Inside,” the man said, nudging his prisoner ahead.
Conrad looked to him again. “What’s going on?”
“Sit in the chair and wait. The questions will begin once you are comfortable.”
Without much of a choice left, he entered and head into the middle of the room. He was plunged into almost tota
l darkness as soon as the door closed behind him. His direction of travel took him to the chair in the sudden blackout, which he found with the edge of his shin.
Dammit!
He felt his way to the front of the chair and, remembering the small amount he could about his own station’s set up, turned to where he believed the one-way mirror was located. The convenience of having chosen an old and abandoned police station worked for both sides.
“Anyone there,” he said, staring into his own dim reflection.
A crackle from the speakers in each corner of the room made him step away. “Sit down,” the highly distorted voice said. Again with this? he thought. His enemy were once again going through the redundant process of hiding their identity.
“Who are you?”
“I said sit down, Mr. Robinson.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll sit.”
The lights came on as soon as he parked himself on the wooden chair. They were too bright at first, causing him to wince and cover his eyes with his hand. After a few seconds he could see again, although not as well as he would like. It was a routine tactic when interrogating someone, he knew from his days on the other side of the mirror.
“Where’s Mayor Crawley?”
The voice was low, more like an extended burp in tone. “We ask the questions. You answer them, understood?”
“Bullshit, where is he? You don’t honestly believe no-one will come looking for him, do you?”
“Quiet! Now, shall I continue?”
Conrad nodded. He never expected they would explain themselves straight away. Instead he was ready to learn what he could from their questions. They would have to reveal something to him at some point. How could they ask him their questions without doing so?
“Your name is Conrad Robinson,” the questioner continued with. “Your wife’s name was Gloria, your two daughters are Samantha and Ellen. Your wife died October, 21st, 2054.”
“What’s your point?” Conrad said, interrupting the summary of his own life. That they knew anything about him at all had him gripping his seat. It was another tool he sometimes used on some of the criminals he had questioned. It sent a strong message, ‘you can’t hide anything from me’.
“You were born in Jamaica in 2001, then moved to the UK in 2007. You were six years old at the time. In 2020, aged nineteen, you joined the police force. Your current rank is Detective Chief Inspector. Your current partner is a Joe Willis. We have everything Mr. Robinson; your school records, tax code, pension details, everything. Shall I go on in more detail?”
“No, I get it.”
“Then you understand there is nothing you could possibly hide from us.”
What about my lottery numbers, dickhead?! “I do,” Conrad answered.
“Good. Now, tell me what you know about us.”
After releasing his tight grip of the seat, Conrad replied. “Nothing specific.”
“Go on.”
“I’ve been investigating a spate of murders across the city, all with the same MO. That led me here. What more can I say?”
“Perhaps you could tell me how it led you here.”
“Sure, why not. Well, at the last dump site – nice job by the way – we found a body that hadn’t been mutilated like the others; those holes you seem to enjoy cutting out of your victims’ skulls, you know the ones.”
“Do not push me, Conrad,” the man growled.
“I’m not. We got a name and a last known, so we took a look. That’s when we found another of yours; strangulation this time and left on the kitchen counter. From there we found you.”
“Really? So you didn’t find an encrypted data coin in the apartment too?”
“Possibly. Does it matter?”
“It does. Who else knows about it?”
Is that what you wanted to know all this time, who saw the data coin? Conrad thought to himself. That cleared the Mayor at least, he had not been told about it.
“What if I said no-one, would that make you happy?” he said. “Of course I could be lying. Maybe I’ve told my entire department already.”
“And what about Mayor Crawley, does he know about it?”
“I didn’t show it to him. You’ve beaten him for nothing, he hasn’t a clue. But I do. You couldn’t hide your plans from me, you bastards. Tell me, why take the Mayor at all? He’s done nothing.”
He received no reply this time, no snide comment or threat either, just silence. Conrad found himself surrounded by his own thoughts again. It still made little sense to him, despite his assured answers to their questions. He was unable to pick out the real issue. The data coin was important, but exactly why remained unclear. The information stored on it was useless now they had completed their kidnapping. Unless it was not the police they feared would access it.
Considering this gave him a slight fright; had he missed something obvious all along, another faction perhaps?
“You took the Mayor,” he began, thinking aloud, “because you believed he knew something about you. I found the data coin, which led me to finding out about your plan to grab him. So why take me? I’m the one that shouldn’t really be here. You’d only do that if you thought I was helping the Mayor in some way.” He lowered his voice before finishing his thought. “What does he know that I don’t?”
Everything appeared confused in his mind. Things were just not adding up anymore, they were spinning around in a whirlwind of evidence, like a tornado had torn through it all. The killer-cult had him and the Mayor, but they needed something from them. They were asking about the data coin, yet they did not appear interested in the case surrounding their little group. Nothing was going the way Conrad had expected.
“You’re not asking me about the data coin because of what’s on it, are you? You’re trying to find out if I know what you think the Mayor does. Who are you people?” he asked the speaker in the corner of the room.
“What do you know about your Mayor, Conrad?” The questioner said, his reply startling Conrad a little.
“Enough that I wasn’t going to vote for him in the next election.”
“Do you know how he came to be the Mayor?”
“I don’t follow politics that closely.”
“But you work for him.”
“What?”
“You follow his orders. Do you deny that you and the Mayor have colluded to hide the truth?”
The insult brought Conrad to his feet in protest. “Of course I deny it, it’s bullshit!”
“Then why have you covered up these murders? People have been killed, yet you’ve made no arrests, told no-one outside your office and kept witnesses silent? All by order of Mayor Crawley, why?”
“I… That wasn’t my fault. I’ve tried my best to catch you out, to stop you.”
“Conrad,” the voice called through the speakers to him, bringing his enthused defence to a swift end. “We are not the killers!”
Conrad froze mid breath as it slowly sunk in. He had it all wrong after all. So who were these people then, if not the killer-cult?
“I don’t understand. The information on the data coin, it came from one of your people. We found your dead-drop too. For Christ’s sake, I’ve been tracking you down since finding Oliver’s body in the warehouse. I know you’re part of it.”
The conversation ended suddenly, broken off by another loud crackle from the speakers. Conrad sat and leaned forward on his knees. It was hopeless. The whole ordeal was beginning to feel like a huge screw-up to him. There was far more going on than he could explain. His own evidence explained none of this.
Sitting and expecting a reply through the intercom, Conrad almost failed to notice when the lock on the door to his side slid open. The door then swung in just enough to allow him to see through the gap. Another guard stood outside, his body casting a shadow across the open doorway.
“What’s happening?” Conrad asked.
“Bring him through to me,” the deep voice ordered of the masked accomplice.
* * *
The past hour-and-a-half had been almost totally devoid of conversation between Phoenix and Luke. Few words were wasted when they had spoken. If one needed a certain tool the other had gotten it without any unnecessary chatting. They had worked without break and were not going to stop any time soon. Not until the Conduit was up and running.
Phoenix had managed to see to cleaning up her friend, but even that had been done during the repairs. After a quick splash over with warm water, she had checked on his wound. The redness surrounding the area of his injury had told a grim story; it was infected after all. After a quick change of the dressing, she had jabbed him with an antibiotic pen, bought by Matt from one of their more discreet drug dealers.
Out of all of the things on the list, finding someone who supplied illegally obtained or knock-off pharmaceuticals had proved the most difficult. Thankfully they had quickly gathered together everything required and were making good progress in the repairs of the Conduit device.
With the floor panels around the left side of the room-sized tower pulled up and discarded, it revealed the true extent of Isaac’s incursion into the real world. They could not reach all the way down to the enormous, crystal tendrils that had worked through the ground to the city. That remained out of their reach, despite the large amount of already broken concrete they had removed. The tower had shattered and cracked it enough to leave it loose, and in a fairly neat circle. What they could reach still had everything they needed to complete their plan.
Luke sat with his legs dangling over the edge of their little hole beside the tower. He could not get himself down to the bottom in the state of exhaustion he was in. It had fallen to Phoenix to tell him not to push himself too much. Judging his weakness was something he just could not get to grips with, so she had jumped into the hole for him.
“What next?” she asked, before passing up a small section of the towers glass-like casing. Her tatty red jumper had quickly caused her body to overheat, so she had removed it and tied it around her waist. Now her father’s t-shirt could be seen and the big letters on it, spelling out her father’s favourite band: Pearl Jam.