by Guy Adams
No! He couldn’t have done!
The wind continued to build, stronger and stronger, until Fratfield was forced to dig his nails into the grass to avoid being pushed along by it.
He looked towards the watchtower as the pale, bloated wind demon appeared, the storm raging from its wide open mouth.
‘I cast you!’ Fratfield screamed. ‘You can’t come for me!’
‘I am cast,’ the wind seemed to say, ‘it does not matter by whom. All that matters is promises. We get what is owed to us.’
With one last scream, Fratfield felt his grip give way and found himself sailing backwards, his heels kicking at the grass until they found nothing but fresh air.
Below, the diners looked up in horror as a scream rang out. The dark shape of a man flying through the air before finally, inevitably, hitting the rocks below.
‘Madre Mia!’ gasped the waiter who had handed Fratfield the envelope. He crossed himself. He turned to the old man who had found it. ‘He must not have liked what was in it.’
‘Possibly not,’ the man admitted, ‘but it was all his.’
With that he turned and walked away, his eyes gazing out at the brilliant, shining sea.
ADDITIONAL DOCUMENT: THE SECOND LIFE OF AUGUST SHINING
‘I ask you to remember an important thing. Sometimes we do not see what is real. Sometimes, what we think has played out before us is not as we perceive it. Our eyes cheat. Our hearts lie. Sometimes it is necessary to make a little theatre.’
‘You said, “Is this now?”’ said Shining. ‘What did you mean?’
The sudden change of subject seemed to confuse the entity that inhabited Ryska for a moment. She stared at him for a couple of seconds before answering.
‘Moving from my plane to yours, it’s hard to be precise. Time is not so linear to us. I have found you before but it was never the right time. Sometimes you were younger, sometimes it was too late.’
‘Too late? That’s reassuring.’
When Ryska didn’t reply, Shining paused and turned back. She was looking at him with a quizzical expression that he recognised as sign that Ryska’s consciousness was no longer in residence.
‘You again, is it?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Have you thought about what you mean to do?’
‘About the rebel?’
She nodded.
He leaned back in the doorway, checking briefly that the others were out of earshot. He could hear them faintly outside, chatting in the porch.
‘You’re the same as him?’ he asked. ‘By which I mean you can do everything he can?’
She nodded.
‘Then, yes, I know what I mean to do, as much as the idea terrifies me. You said it yourself, I have to give him what he wants.’
‘Tell me your plan.’
‘Doppelgänger Contract,’ he said. ‘I need you to go back and make another me.’
Shining watched Toby and Tamar dancing in the courtyard of the Church of the Sacred Mind. Ah… weddings, such a shame he didn’t get to go to many. Give it five minutes and he’d be on the dance floor himself showing the young idiots what hips were made for.
First, he had to…
He stumbled, a wave of dizziness washing over him. Surely he hadn’t had that much to drink? He’d been taking it steady, like all of them, but he wasn’t a man to hit the bottle too hard. It came again, stronger this time. He sank to his knees and blacked out.
‘You all right, August?’ asked Pleasance, stepping out of the kitchen. ‘What you doing sitting on the floor? We run out of chairs? I’ll fix some more in a minute. I got some pecan and raspberry muffins coming on like hellfire in that oven.’
‘More cakes? Dear God, woman, are you trying to kill us?’
‘Not with the cakes, it’s the punch that’ll do that. Come on, I’ll pour you another glassful.’
She led him outside.
In Pleasance’s office, watching through a crack in the door, August Shining saw himself leave, arm in arm with their host.
He turned back to face the thing wearing Jamie Goss’s body.
‘How do I know you’re telling me the truth?’ he said.
Goss shrugged. ‘You obviously thought you would,’ he said, ‘or you wouldn’t have sent me back to do this.’
‘My head’s splitting. Doppelgänger Contract? Aren’t you supposed to ask first? Doesn’t it have to be some kind of deal?’
‘No. The rebel just phrases it that way. It’s so he can get something from you that he wants.’
‘Whereas this is what I want?’
‘Very much so.’
Shining rubbed his aching head. It had explained it to him twice already, he trying to process it as he watched his unconscious body — his unconscious other body — sat out in the hallway. He was having a hard time of it.
‘So I have to take this extra time to fake my own death…’
‘You won’t be faking. He will die. He has to.’
‘But he’s me!’
‘So are you.’
Shining waved the conversation away with his hands. This was getting too much for him to cope with. He sat down at Pleasance’s desk.
‘Let me take some notes, dates, details…’
Bill Fratfield had received the email while waiting for his flight out of Mexico. Using the airport’s rented computer space, he had logged on to his business email account and there was the message: URGENT: SERVICES REQUIRED.
He’d read the mail. There were no details regarding the kill, just details of where he was to travel to and a number he was to message on arrival. This was normal. Clients didn’t like to mention the name of the person they wanted removing until the assassin was hired. In fact, on the rare occasion that a client did mention the name, any professional tended to run a mile – if they’d told you, who else had they told?
Why not? he thought. If he had to run, he might as well earn some money while he was doing it. He sent back a reply and proceeded to book a new flight. He’d let his original tickets stand, and with a bit of luck Toby Greene would end up following him as far as Italy before he realised he was chasing an empty seat.
Shining waved cheerily at the man behind the shop counter and made his way over to the storage lockers.
‘Got something nice, have you?’ the shop assistant asked.
‘Hopefully!’ Shining replied, using the open locker door to hide the fact that he was slipping an envelope from out of his jacket. ‘Oh,’ he said, dropping the envelope in. ‘That’s annoying. It’s empty.’ He closed the locker door and pulled out his new phone. ‘Better email them and see what’s going on.’
‘Happens sometimes,’ said the shop assistant. ‘Probably on its way and they sent you the delivery notification early by mistake.’
‘That’ll be it for sure,’ August agreed, walking out. ‘Not to worry. Thank you!’
Heading towards the office, Shining handled the messages from Fratfield. It was all falling into place. With Fratfield hired as the assassin to – how unnerving this thought was – kill his other body, he’d deal with both of their longstanding problems in one fell swoop. Fratfield could handle the Higher Power and then August would handle Fratfield.
Across the road, August Shining saw himself – his other self – step out onto the street. Quickly he darted into the closest shop.
‘Hello sir,’ said the owner. ‘Can I help you at all?’
‘Just browsing for now,’ he said, immediately turning to stare through the window. On the opposite side of the road, his other self was staring right back at him. He jumped back from the window.
‘Browsing for sandwiches?’ the owner asked, with no small amount of sarcasm, pointing at the array of fillings stocked before him in the chilled counter.
‘Ah, right… yes… erm, tuna salad please.’
‘Certainly, sir.’
While the sandwich was being made, he checked his notes. If he was leaving the office now then they’d be driving him to the safe house. He didn
’t have time for this, he had to get to his car.
‘Sorry,’ he said, grabbing the sandwich, ‘just remembered a thing, must run.’ He threw a five pound note towards the owner and peered out of the doorway. Across the road, his other self was looking towards a car that was indicating to pull in.
Shining dashed up the road a short distance and then crossed over, all the time keeping an eye on his other self and the car he was climbing into. He ran around the corner from the office to where his car was parked in a rented garage a few doors down.
He’d given it a couple of runs over the last few days, only too aware of how little he used it. He’d had visions of the damn thing packing up on him when he really needed it. Besides, he’d had time to kill — what an unfortunate phrase that was in the circumstances, he thought. Over the last few weeks he’d been living in the house on Morrison Close, doing his best to run over the plan until he was sure it was as safe as it could be.
The problem was that he had come up with it in a rush, thinking on the hoof and laying down the bare bones of it to the entity that had come back and duplicated him. The second August – him – could hardly communicate with the first, so even though he looked at the arrangements and saw countless ways they could be made safer and better, he couldn’t risk altering them. His original self would play his part and that was now fixed. The entity had made it perfectly clear that the risks of altering his timeline at this stage could be catastrophic and, in truth, he hadn’t needed to be told. It was vital that he kept out of sight and ensured that everything that had led the other August to that safe house – and the conversation with the entity – remained identical. He would handle Fratfield and ensure that part of it was secure, the rest would just have to play out with no involvement from him.
He got in the car, shoved his sandwich in the bag with the rest of the kit he’d prepared, and drove back to the main road.
He had to annoy a few fellow motorists to begin with, overtaking and cutting between the other cars as he tried to get the car he was tailing in sight. Once he’d spotted it a short way ahead, he settled back and followed, heading out of the city and towards the house where soon he would die.
On the hill above the safe house, Shining brushed the remains of a sandwich from his fingers, raised a pair of night-vision binoculars to his eyes and followed Jennings as he stepped out of the cottage and made his way over to the two other security officers.
Shining had been in position for several hours now, had monitored the movements of the security officers as they took it in turns to make circuits of the building, plodding through their duty in the thorough manner only ex-military could really manage.
You learned a great deal training in the army, but he often thought that one of the most impressive skills you inherited was an ability to do the mundane without going mad with boredom. For himself, as important as his supervision was, he had found himself begging for something to happen within a couple of hours of setting up position. Waiting wouldn’t kill him, he knew, but there were times it felt like it would.
He reached for his phone, checking for messages. Nothing. This was no great surprise. Fratfield was waiting on his orders like the good professional he was. Shining wondered when those orders would be given. He trained his glasses on the blank window of the interrogation room, picturing the target beyond the drapes. He wondered when it would be time for August Shining to die.
It would have to be soon. Should he risk it? Was it better to have Fratfield arrive too early or too late?
Too late, probably. Still… He glanced at his watch. He’d give it another half an hour and then set the assassin moving.
Convergence.
From his position on the hill, Shining saw it all come together.
He saw the car leave with the security officers inside it, bouncing its way out of the rough driveway, then speeding off along the road, its lights receding.
He saw Fratfield jogging along the road before making his cautious circuit of the house. He received the man’s text message and replied accordingly. How strange it was to be sat here, orchestrating events from afar, pulling strings like a puppeteer.
It made him a little bit too much like the enemy for comfort.
Any moment now, he felt sure, August Shining – the other August Shining – would die and then the night’s work would be all but over. He checked his weapon. He hated to kill but Fratfield must die. Alive he would always be a threat to Toby and Tamar. Perhaps he should just kill him now? Then kill his other self?
He wasn’t sure he was capable of that. Besides, in that split second while he aimed his shot – perhaps more than a split second, he was not the practised killer Fratfield was – might the higher power not see it had been tricked? What might it be capable of then?
Best to stick to the plan, however rough it was. Surely, as long as he was quick, everything would work just fine.
But plans are slippery things and, however much you may think you have anticipated all the possibilities, life invariably surprises you.
The first surprise of the night was the presence of another car on the road. This in itself was not worrying, it was an open road after all and, even at this time of night, traffic was only to be expected. When it pulled into the driveway of the cottage, however, Shining’s plans really began to fall apart.
April! What was she doing here?
Everything hinged on the fact that his other self would get everyone else out of the house. No risk of innocent casualties. His possessed body would step out of the front door, Fratfield would take his shot and then August would take out Fratfield… but now?
August began to run down the hill. He had to figure out a way of getting his sister out of the house.
The wind began to blow. Harder, then harder still. It robbed him of his balance and he fought to keep his feet as he heard the sound of another car approaching. What was this now? The wind. Fratfield. The curse… surely they were out of the country? Toby and Tamar couldn’t be here!
He saw the car headlights streaking towards the house, swaying along with the car as it fought to keep to the road. Then he saw it bounce and tip into a roll.
He looked back at the house.
April or Toby and Tamar. That was his choice. Damn him for coming up with such a stupid plan. Damn him for not anticipating better…
He ran towards the road.
Toby pulled himself free of his seatbelt, falling onto the roof of the upturned car. ‘Tamar?’
She grunted and he reached for her seatbelt even as the car began to spin again, turning on its roof.
‘Oh God,’ he moaned. ‘Tamar…’
The car flipped again and he collided with the dashboard, losing consciousness.
The car nearly hit Shining as he skidded onto the road, the wind forcing him to bend forward, legs wide. Keeping low, the upturned vehicle shielded him from some of it, he could see both passengers were out cold.
Toby was closest, and Shining pulled him out through the shattered window. The car shifted again and he toppled backwards, losing his grip on Toby, who rolled down the incline of the verge, coming to rest at the foot of the hedge.
It was Tamar he needed to get clear, she was the trigger.
He undid her seatbelt and lifted her out, throwing her over his shoulder.
Glancing towards the road, he could see the wind demon, puffing up its cheeks in preparation for another gust. Around it, detritus swirled, a cyclone of dead leaves and small branches.
August had the wind behind him as he ran, moving up the hill away from the road as fast as he could. There would be a point, he knew, where Tamar was far enough away from Fratfield that the curse ceased.
Of course, now it occurred to him that easiest course of action would have been to kill Fratfield but then he would have been in the position of having to face his duplicate, possessed self. Maybe that would have worked, maybe the whole plan would then have come crashing around him, nobody would ever know. He’d made his decision
and now he was sticking with it.
But what if he didn’t manage to get back for Fratfield? What if the assassin escaped again?
What would be would be. For now he just had to do his best to ensure Toby and Tamar survived the night.
He stumbled, both he and Tamar falling to the ground. Still too close, he thought, as the wind howled around them. He grabbed her by her T-shirt and began to drag her, his energy fading. If they weren’t clear soon, he would never make it. He couldn’t keep moving much longer.
He saw the demon at his heels. It had followed him, its pale white face looking quizzically at him as he dragged Tamar a few more feet.
Suddenly, the wind stopped and Shining collapsed, in relief.
‘Far enough,’ he sighed lying down on the grass next to the unconscious Tamar.
‘Far enough,’ the demon agreed.
Shining sat up and looked at it, fighting for breath. ‘You can talk?’
‘Why shouldn’t I?’
‘No reason, I suppose. I just looked upon you as a force of nature.’
The demon scratched at the soft skin of its face, its cheeks distended like defaulted balloons. ‘A force of nature that can speak.’
‘Yes.’ He tried to get up. He had to keep moving, had to deal with Fratfield. He sank back down, it was no good, he could barely breathe.
‘Why do you want to run?’ the demon asked. ‘She is safe now.’
‘Not while the man who cast you is still alive she’s not.’
The demon nodded. ‘He is a dark man, I look for a soul inside him but I think he has none. I wish I was not bound to him.’
Shining thought for a moment. ‘Can I release you?’
‘Only by turning the curse back on the man who cast it. It is possible but not simple.’
Shining nodded. ‘You just let me worry about that.’
He left Tamar and worked his way back towards the house. Every part of him ached. He was getting far too old for this sort of exertion. His vision was blurring and there was a pain in his chest as he neared the road. What was wrong with him? He’d never felt so… the pain in his chest increased, tightening, crushing…