Clermont turned in shock at the sudden violent impact and found himself staring at something dredged from his worst nightmares. A huge, red-furred beast moved into the room, its eyes burning and its claws dripping with what could only be blood.
The animal stood up on its hind legs. It was well over six feet tall but it was far more wolflike than human. Its snout face was covered in a patch of triangular white fur, and its lips were pulled back, exposing perfect white fangs that were drooling.
While its form was lupine, standing up on two caninelike legs, its arms had more of a simian look to them, albeit with paws tipped with long vicious claws.
Its body was a mass of sinewy muscle, taut and powerful looking, while also being lean and balletic.
The female SO1 officer’s gun spat fire as she stepped forwards. Her hands were steady and her aim was sure, but the automatic pistol’s bullets were unable to penetrate the animal’s thick hide, and the wooden floor was soon tinkling with the sound of flattened rounds.
The woman, whose name Clermont was desperately trying to remember but failing to do so, rushed forwards towards the creature, blocking its path to Clermont himself.
Dimly, he heard his wife screaming and turned to see her ashen face. He reacted as best he could and stepped towards her, forcing her into the panic room.
She flailed against him in her blind panic, but he kept on pushing until she fell backwards across the threshold. Only when she was in did he turn back to check on the protection officer who was currently saving their lives.
The second woman was also screaming, but hers was a warrior’s cry as she launched herself at the creature, using the butt of her now empty gun as a weapon as she beat against the creature’s face, momentarily driving it backwards through her pure fury, but she was no real match for it.
The creature slashed out with one deadly clawed paw and severed the woman’s arm with a single blow. The officer was shocked into silence and stood still for a brief moment, her eyes trying to process why her arm was lying on the floor and not attached to her body anymore.
A second blow now tore open her chest, slicing through the body armour under her shirt as though it was made of tissue paper and sending a spurt of blood flying out across the library and ruining several priceless first editions.
The woman dropped to her knees, and her eyes met his for a split second before they clouded over. He couldn’t hear her voice but he could read her lips. “Run,” they said.
Clermont felt his wife’s hands at his back desperately trying to drag him into the panic room with her, but now his gaze locked with the creature’s and he found himself rooted to the spot.
He couldn’t get a read on any intelligence from the animal; it hadn’t appeared to be exhibiting any kind of rational thought but now, now it seemed to pause as it stared at him with burning sunken eyes.
Gloria was still clawing and now screaming at him, but her voice was distant, a dull echo lost in a sunken well as the thing moved towards him.
He was within striking distance now and the thing tilted its head as though evaluating his response to its sheer unnatural presence. A paw reached out and a single claw touched his face, almost gently, stroking his cheek, and there was suddenly something vaguely familiar, almost human, in the thing’s aura.
The animal suddenly tensed and Clermont knew that he had missed his chance to escape its grasp. He was about to die, but now the beast was jerking as though being struck multiple times from behind.
It shoved him forwards, and with Gloria pulling him at the same time, he fell backwards and into the panic room. He lay on the ground as Gloria hit a button by the door and the massive thick metal door started to close on hissing hydraulics
Clermont looked up from the ground and saw Ken come staggering into the room. The protection officer looked like he had been dragged through a combine harvester as his clothing was shredded in multiple places, exposing torn skin and vicious-looking wounds underneath.
The man looked like he should already be dead, let alone staggering into the library firing some kind of machine gun as he peppered the animal with multiple bullets. Some were bouncing off the beast’s hide but others were finding softer parts, and now, for the first time, the creature screamed in a little pain and a lot of anger.
The door was almost closed now. Clermont struggled to get to his feet to hit the button to open the door again, but Gloria landed her entire weight on him and fought to stop him from doing so.
Through what was now a small crack in the door, he could see Ken’s face break into a smile as he saw that the love of his life was finally safe and that his sacrifice would not be in vain.
Their eyes locked through the narrowing gap as the creature seized Ken in its powerful grip and lifted him high. Ken nodded that it was okay as Clermont screamed out in impotent frustration as the door shut and he was at least spared the sight of the man he loved being torn apart.
The heavy door was now in place just as the animal slammed into it, and while the whole room shook, the door held. The impact happened a second time, then a third, each one harder than the last, but the door held firm and eventually the slamming stopped.
At some point, his wife’s grip went from one of restraint to one of love as she hugged him while he wept.
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chapter 29
SEEKING ANSWERS
Brian Dennison entered the small café as discreetly as he could. As a man without a spy’s background, that meant that he stood out a mile with his trenchcoat pulled up high, a hat shoved down low and dark sunglasses despite the dark day sky overhead outside. As a result, almost everyone in the café turned to notice him when he finally came inside after much pacing.
He looked around for his coffee companion and a woman waved him over, obviously expecting him.
“I think that we can dispense with the costume,” Number One said, nodding towards his hat and glasses.
“Why am I here?”
“Because you were summoned.”
“I can’t be seen here, not now,” Dennison hissed. “The whole place is on lockdown. You've no idea how difficult it was to slip away. If they notice I’m gone, then someone’s going to chuck me in a deep dark cell and throw away the key!”
“Calm yourself, Mr Dennison. There is no need for hysterics.”
“Hysterics!” he screeched, loudly enough to garner more interested looks.
“You really need to calm down, Mr Dennison. Now,” she added coldly.
A waitress approached the table, a pleasant older woman with a warm greeting smile.
“And what can I get for you today?” she asked.
“Nothing. Go away,” Dennison replied rudely.
“Please excuse my friend,” Number One said in a kind voice. “It’s been a trying time for him at work.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that,” the waitress consoled. “Times are tough all over these days.” She sighed. “How about a nice piece of pie? Our rhubarb is the talk of the town.”
“I highly doubt that,” Dennison pouted.
“Oh, I assure you it is, sir, especially to those of us with a sweet tooth,” the waitress added as she patted her own rotund figure.
“I don’t want pie,” Dennison grumbled.
“Soup then? Homemade chicken broth, always good for what ails you, my mother always used to say.”
“I don’t want soup, and I don’t want pie!” Dennison snapped.
“Perhaps if you just bring us a couple of coffees?” Number One said politely.
“Of course,” the waitress answered before leaving, seemingly without taking offence.
“Why the hell am I here?” Dennison bristled.
“I believe that this establishment was your choosing.”
“I don’t mean here, I mean here,” he said with an irritated flap of his hand. “Meeting you!”
“Because you were paid an awful lot of money by our organisation and I have questions for you, Mr Dennison.”
&n
bsp; “Oh really? Because I have a few for you, like what was that bloody thing that almost saw me out of a job?”
“You think that was our doing?” she mused.
“Who the hell else would it have been?” he hissed back as he leaned across the table.
“And pray tell, why would we go to all the trouble of procuring ourselves a prime minister, only to have him assassinated, Mr Dennison?”
“Beats me, but that’s not exactly a denial.”
“Do we strike you as stupid people? Sitting here now, do I appear to be a woman without a plan, Mr Dennison?”
“Well…, no…,” he admitted.
“I have gone to great lengths to tie my packages with just the right bows. Everything has a place and everything in its place, Mr Dennison, for ours is the pathway to redemption. It is a troublesome road to be sure, but we intend to walk it, and walk it true we shall.”
“Then what was that thing?”
“What are the authorities saying?” she responded, ignoring his question.
“Not much. They don’t have any idea from what I can gather.”
“And our fearless leader?”
“He and his wife are in lockdown.”
“Well I need to talk to him, and I require full copies of the investigation.”
“You’re out of your mind to ask for something like that!” Dennison laughed bitterly.
“I can quite assure you that I’m not; neither am I asking.”
“Look, lady, just because you people bought a service from me, that doesn’t mean that you bought me. Understood?”
“Now you can’t possibly believe that, Mr Dennison?”
“You got what you paid for,” he bristled.
“We always do.” She smiled back.
“Look, I don’t know just what sort of people you’re used to dealing with, but I shall not be bullied by the likes of you.”
“I want full copies of the investigation.”
“You are not hearing me.”
“I am afraid that is you, Mr Dennison, with the hearing problem. Do you really think that you are the worm on my hook?”
“We’re done here,” Dennison said, standing up to leave. “Whatever business we had is concluded, and I don’t expect to hear from any of you again.”
The prime minister’s private secretary stood firmly and turned to go, but Number One stopped him with two words.
“Sit… down…,” she ordered, and her voice and expression would not be denied. “Before I slit your throat open and stain these quite lovely linen tablecloths.”
Dennison sat down with a white face, suddenly looking fearful as he well might.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Is that right?”
“Look…, our business is concluded; I delivered what you wanted. I gave you a prime minister on a silver platter, and you paid me handsomely for it. We’re done, right?”
“We are done when I say we’re done, Mr Dennison.”
“Look, the way I see it, I’ve got as much on you people as you have on me, so then why should I do anything you say?”
“You mean apart from facing treason charges?”
“There’s no proof that I accepted anything from you. I was very careful to cover my tracks,” he replied slowly as though not quite believing it.
“Oh, Mr Dennison, do you really think that? Have I really done such a poor job in presenting myself?”
“I am starting to think that you might be crazy,” he said before he could stop the thought from exiting his mouth.
“Crazy? Is that really how I strike you? Can you picture me running naked and howling at the moon?”
“I didn’t mean anything…,” Dennison said quietly.
“Soon, this whole entire country will see us again, Mr Dennison, the us that I will create for them, for the world to see.”
“That would take some doing, especially given your… past history.”
“History is written by the victors, Mr Dennison, or have you not heard that? This world is run by the opinion makers, and I shall give them their opinions.”
“Really? And how exactly are you going to do that, pray tell? Are you going to try and bribe someone like Wilson Fontaine? Because I’m not sure you have the funds for that. I’m not sure anyone has enough money to pay off the richest man in the country.”
“Not everyone is motivated by something as simplistic as money, Mr Dennison. After all, not everyone’s you.”
“You got to Fontaine?” He breathed hard as the implications started to sink in.
He knew that Fontaine was the single most influential man in the country, more so even than the prime minister. Fontaine had the media empire, both traditional and new, to shape any opinion he so chose. If Cynthia Arrow’s organisation had somehow gotten to him, then heaven only knew what kind of agenda she might be able to push.
“Really?” he mused. “Fontaine? Wilson Fontaine?”
“My husband might have been a powerful man, but the most powerful man is still just a man, Mr Dennison, and I am the servant of God, his emissary on earth, and my will shall be done.”
“You people really are crazy.”
“They say the same about all visionaries at some point, Mr Dennison, right up until the history books are rewritten,” Number One said, her wild eyes gleaming with an intensity that Dennison didn’t like the look of one little bit.
“We’re done here. For good,” he added.
“Do you require a demonstration of just how little power you have here, Mr Dennison? Is that it? Are you lacking your faith?”
“You’re not in control here. I picked this place because it’s very public and very busy at this time of the day. You really think that you can do anything to me here?”
Number One merely smiled. She raised one hand and clicked her fingers. In an instant, everyone else in the café stopped talking. They then all stood and one by one silently filed out of the door into the street, customers and staff alike, with their waitress being the one to close and lock the door behind them.
Dennison watched the scene unfold before his eyes until they were alone. A room full of people all choreographed in an instant by a crazy lady. He knew then in that instant that he had made a terrible mistake getting into bed with them.
When they were completely alone again, and his thoughts were organised as his brain operated at record speed, only then did he finally speak.
“Well then,” he said with a clap of his hands and a warm, fake helpful smile that was usually reserved for his boss. “So when would best suit your schedule?”
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Jamie-Lyn and the rest of the team caught the news in a wooden cabin on the outskirts of the small Swedish fishing town of Blasvik where they’d landed.
The holiday resort was spotlessly clean and the small staff helpful as they booked into three of the six cabins that were rented out.
There was a reception, bar and restaurant in a separate building located at the entrance to the tourist spot, but they were out of season and the place was largely deserted.
The only staff on duty were the owner and his wife who were most surprised and then apologetic at their new guests having to carry their own bags. They did, however, offer to open the bar which Crimson readily agreed to.
The couple were busy and friendly, with Ebba especially attentive and fussing over them in an almost maternal manner.
Albin had apologised profusely that they had not been expecting guests at this time of the year. His family lived on site, and even though the cabins were closed for the season, he’d quickly opened up for them, apologising the whole time as he roused his daughter, Lilly, to help sheet the beds and towel the bathrooms.
Lilly hadn’t shared her parents’ enthusiasm for helping unexpected guests, and Jamie-Lyn had found out that the teenager proved that most teens shared the same solemn grumpiness regardless of nationality.
The boat crossing had b
een an opportunity to alter their appearances as best they could, given the circumstances. Link, as far as they knew, had yet to be identified and his face had been kept off the news reports, so he handled their dealings with the locals.
Crimson had shaved his head bald and was wearing multiple clothing to hide his lean body shape along with a pair of glasses he’d taken from the boat.
Jesus was wearing bulky fisherman clothing with a thick woollen hat pulled down low. His face was already starting to show signs of stubble, which altered his usual clean-cut appearance, ideal since every photo of the man showed him impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit looking like an accountant.
For her part, Jamie-Lyn had given herself an awkward haircut with a pair of none too sharp scissors she’d found on board, and her hair was now a reddish brown after she’d fashioned a dye from carrot juice and olive oil that she’d gotten on board. The short bob with the change of colour wouldn’t pass muster under close inspection, but in a small Swedish fishing village, she felt confident of not looking like the glossy image taken from her on-air days that was currently being shown on the news.
Of course, there was no disguising CJ, so he’d hidden out of sight until Link had paid for the cabins before teleporting directly into one of them.
Link, for his part, was now laying out his findings for Jamie-Lyn, Crimson and Jesus in the deserted restaurant, whilst CJ was tucked away out of sight in the cabin.
It had been Crimson’s idea to speak here away from CJ, and Jamie-Lyn had noted that no one had disagreed.
Their hosts, Albin and his wife Ebba, had served them with husmanskost which comprised a meatball dish and some fried herring with potatoes and rice. The food was a little bland, but wholesome and hearty, designed for fuel during a hard day’s work in the snow.
The table was laden with steins of strong beer which Crimson was particularly enjoying as he drank more than he ate, seemingly without it having much in the way of an effect.
“I’m not sure about this,” Jamie-Lyn said once the resort owners had gracefully made their exit.
“The fish is good,” Link offered.
“Not the food,” she hissed back. “I mean having this discussion without CJ here.”
Capes Page 42