“What the fuck? Where are we?” Kelly spun on his heels and glared at his subjugators.
“It doesn’t matter where we are. You have a job to do. And we are willing to pay you to do it.”
“And that’s why you drugged me?” Kelly’s voice carried more than a little indignity.
“We don’t have time to waste on this. We needed to get you here first. We could convince you once you were here ... with substantial compensation.”
The woman slid into the room, gliding effortlessly toward Kelly. Her slender frame was shrouded in a long, gray, wrap-around dress, and a patent leather belt cinched her midriff. Kelly looked into her emerald-green eyes, the focal point of her oval, doll-like face. Jet black, shoulder-length hair contrasted with her porcelain skin. She reminded Kelly of her.
“So,” the woman began, eyeing Kelly, “what would your price be to help us, hmmm?”
“Look, lady—”
“Freya Nilsson,” she interrupted.
“Whatever. Even if I wanted to do whatever it is you want me to do, you couldn’t afford me. So why don’t you just put me back where you found me, huh?” Kelly marched over to Chris and plonked on the floor like a defiant child.
Chris shifted his head toward his friend. “Mature. Oh, and by the way, I wouldn’t mess with these guys. While you were having your beauty sleep, I had a little conversation with our new friends. Turns out, they’re with the CIA or something.”
Kelly’s eyes widened. Chris nodded.
“I assure you, Mr. Graham, we have deep pockets. You will be well-compensated.” Ms. Nilsson took a single step toward him.
Kelly studied her. “I’m sure you do.”
“I’m sure if you offer him a warm cave and a shiny new clubbing implement, he’ll be as giddy as a schoolgirl.” Victoria stood in the doorway, leaning against the bulkhead.
“Oh great, it’s a fucking party. What are you doing here?” Kelly rolled his eyes, elbowed his friend in the shoulder, and then motioned toward the doorframe.
Chris choked back a laugh. “It’s your girlfriend. She’s probably here because she wants you.”
“Hello to you, too, Chris.”
“Hi, Victoria. Long time no see. What’s it been, twenty-four hours?”
The Shadow Man tapped at his oversized military watch. “Look, I hate to break up your little reunion, but we got a thing to do here, and we’re on a bit of a time schedule, ya know.”
“Indeed. Mr. Graham, I must insist.” Ms. Nilsson’s icy stare cut through Kelly, causing his skin to horripilate.
Kelly glanced at Chris and then Victoria. “Okay, first things first. I don’t need your money. I’ll hear your request, then decide if I wanna do it. If I do, I will. If I don’t, I leave. Deal?”
“Deal. Follow me. I’ll explain in the briefing room.” Ms. Nilsson turned on a dime and tramped out of the room.
Kelly stood and minced after Ms. Nilsson, swinging his hips mockingly. “I guess we follow her,” he called over his shoulder.
Victoria and Chris exchanged a glance and smirked before following suit, marching out the room.
* * *
The group meandered through the narrow white corridors, ducking overhead pipes, stepping over the lips of bulkheads, all the while trying to keep pace with Ms. Nilsson. The maze of passageways was incomprehensible and never-ending. Each hallway looked just like the last.
Eventually, Kelly stepped through a doorway and into a large room. Ms. Nilsson was already sitting herself at the head of a large, rectangular table. The group conformed, each taking a place, waiting expectantly.
Finally Ms. Nilsson spoke. “We need you to collect something for us.”
“Okay, what?” Kelly asked. “And from where?”
“From a thousand feet below us,” she replied.
“A thousand feet? That’s it? You drug me and drag me halfway round the world to dive a thousand feet?” Kelly began to rise from his chair.
“Technically, we don’t know where we are, so we can’t really say it’s halfway round the world,” Chris whispered.
Kelly glared at him.
The military woman offered an emotionless smile. “We need you to free dive a thousand feet.”
“Free dive a thousand feet?” Kelly sat again. “You’re fucking crazy. Okay, I get why you called on me now—I hold the free dive record—I get it. But I’ve only gone eight hundred fifty feet, and that was no limits apnea; I had a guide rope, weighted sled, fins, and an inflatable.” Kelly shook his head and gesticulated frantically.
“I have a more practical question.” Victoria raised her slight hand. Her delicate English accent and reserved politeness commanded attention. “Why free dive? Why can’t we use tanks?”
“A sensible question.” Ms. Nilsson pointed a remote control at the opposite wall and pressed a button. An overhead projector suspended from the ceiling whirred into life, flooding the white wall with a bright blue light. Another press of a button, and a new image flicked onto the wall. “Okay, here we are.” She wielded a laser pointer like a long-distance marker pen to fleetingly circle in red the simulated image of a large ship. “There’s the sea floor and structures below us. We need to retrieve something, but every time we send divers down, their equipment malfunctions, and we lose them ...” Her voice trailed off.
“By lose, you mean they died—right?” Chris asked.
“Yes,” the Shadow Man replied.
Victoria furrowed her brow. “Why? What happened to their equipment?”
“We don’t know,” Ms. Nilsson replied. “The divers who came back... their equipment was corroded. The cylinders were destroyed.”
“And you can’t send an ROV?” Chris was frowning, clearly trying to get his head around the situation.
“No, the terrain down there makes it difficult to pilot any kind of remote submersible.”
“Can I see a cylinder? A corroded one, I mean,” Victoria asked.
“Of course.” Ms. Nilsson flicked a glance at the Shadow Man, who immediately left the room.
A few seconds later, he returned carrying a large, plastic crate full of diving gear. He slammed the heavy cage down on the table. The three friends sifted through the equipment, picking up individual pieces, examining each, and then moving to the next. A few confused glances were shot across the table.
“This is very peculiar,” Victoria whispered.
“You’re not fucking kidding.” Kelly exhaled through his nostrils. “There’s no burn edge and nothing to indicate acidic corrosion. And it’s not the seals. Something has literally eaten through the cylinder.”
“Okay, no, we’re not going.” Chris stood up. “We have no idea what we’re collecting or what happened to this equipment—or your divers.”
“I’ll do it,” Kelly said.
Chris spun around and stared at his companion. “Are you nuts? Look at this stuff.”
“I assume the divers died from drowning, not anything else?” Kelly asked.
“As far as we know,” Ms. Nilsson replied.
“Fine. Let’s just do this so I can get the hell out of here.” Kelly pushed away from the table with his palms.
“That’s the spirit, Mr. Graham. We’re on a schedule anyway. Let’s go.” Ms. Nilsson stood, ready to leave.
Chris leaned into his friend. “What are you doing?”
Kelly looked into his friend’s eyes, a playful glint in his own. “I wanna know what’s down there. What the hell did that kind of damage? You get me?”
Chris paused, studying his comrade. “You’ll need a buddy. I’ll go with you.”
“No!” Kelly shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be an idiot. Diving 101—you need a buddy.” Chris’s arms were folded across his chest, a schoolteacher scowl on his face.
“Yes, he does. And that’s why she’s here.” Ms. Nilsson nodded toward Victoria.
“What?” Kelly demanded. “No, I’m fine.”
“What’s the matter,
Kelly Graham? Scared I’ll dive deeper than you?” Victoria taunted him from across the table.
“In fact, Miss McKenzie, that’s exactly why you are here—to double our chances.” With that, Ms. Nilsson left the room.
“You heard the woman. Let’s go.” Victoria winked at Kelly and sauntered out of the room. He quickly followed, mumbling something about dive records and the female lung capacity.
“Are they always like this?” the Shadow Man asked.
Chris sighed. “Well, they were friends a long time ago. And they were like this then. It’s like they’re still in high school.”
Location: Los Angeles, California, USA
It was open, only slightly but open nonetheless. Jerry pushed at it tentatively. The hinges groaned as the door slid slowly backward. He peered inside—no lights. He stepped cautiously into the dim hallway of the apartment.
“David?”
Light flickered from the living room at the end of the hall. Jerry shuffled slowly down the passageway. He paused next to the kitchen door and pushed it open—empty. He continued, eventually stepping into the open-plan living room. It was dark except for the muted flat screen TV flickering images of some music video.
Jerry picked up the remote control, switched off the television, and looked around the dark room. The brown leather couch looked like it had recently been sat on. A human impression was still carved into the seat. He stepped over to the wall and flicked on the main light. The brightness hurt his eyes as the unshaded light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling burst into life. He blinked, adjusting to the new environment.
There was nothing suspicious or out of place.
He looked to the spiral staircase leading to the upper level of the duplex. Taking a deep breath, he strode toward it and grabbed the hand railing. Slowly, he ascended, each step heavier than the last. He circled upward to reach the opening to the bedroom. As his vision crested the floor’s horizon, his eyes fell upon David slumped face down over the bed. His body was sprawled out, arms and legs outstretched, his head turned to the left with eyes open, staring off into nowhere. The white sheets were stained red.
Jerry could see a single gaping wound in the back of David’s head; a bloody mix of plasma and brain tissue glinted inside the small hole.
Jerry’s stomach convulsed; the need to vomit was overwhelming. He stepped slowly to the corpse of his friend.
“Fuck.” He clasped a hand to his mouth, afraid of who may have heard him. Jerry swallowed hard and leaned to feel his friend’s neck.
The cell phone exploded into life, vibrating in his jeans. Jerry leapt back squealing and grabbed at the object shuddering on his left leg. His heart raced, thumping through his chest. He pulled the iPhone from his pocket and looked at the screen: Caller out of area.
“H ... hello?”
“Listen to me carefully, Mr. Caulfield. You have a few minutes at best. Go to the bedroom window and leave via the fire escape.”
“Who is this? What do you ...?”
“I suggest you do what I say. Your friend’s killer is probably still in the building.”
The front door creaked open. Jerry muffled a squeak from his lips and started to the window, the cell phone still clamped to his left ear.
“When you get to the bottom of the ladder, there will be a black sedan with the keys in the ignition. The satellite navigation has been pre-programmed. Just follow the instructions.”
Click.
Jerry looked at his phone. The call had been ended. He paused and peered out the window and over the rusty metal framework of the fire escape into the wet street below. There was the sedan, just as the caller had indicated. Jerry clambered through the window frame onto the metal stairs and started downward but froze as the clanging of his feet against the metalwork echoed all around him. He looked up through the grated platforms at the open bedroom window. Shit. Probably should have closed that. Fuck it. Keep moving.
Moving more stealthily, he tip-toed down the rest of the ladder until he reached the bottom platform. It must have been twenty feet to the street below. Should he unlock the last ladder to get down? No. That would make too much noise. Jerry climbed clumsily over the slippery railing and slid down the other side until he was hanging by only his hands from the platform, dangling above the street below. It didn’t look that far. His fingers slipped. Jerry fell to the concrete below, twisting his left ankle awkwardly as he crashed into the pavement. He cried out in pain, clutching at his leg, and rolled about the pavement on his back.
Two yellow beams of light pierced the dark street, drowning Jerry’s face. He covered his eyes with one free hand. The cones of light shook as the car’s engine growled into life. Jerry froze. He couldn’t move. He knew he should, but his body wasn’t listening to his brain. He looked up at the black sedan waiting for him. It was too far away. His attention snapped back to the other car as its screeching tires propelled it toward him. Jerry closed his eyes and covered his head, as if that would protect him from a ton of metal crushing his frail human skull. The roaring of the engine grew louder as the car accelerated. Jerry squeezed his eyes closed and prayed.
The car gunned past his head and off into the night. Silence. Jerry opened his eyes. He was alive. He pried himself from the floor and limped over to the sedan, his heart still racing. He grabbed the door handle, opened the car, and jumped inside—safe, at least for now. He twisted the key in the ignition, firing up the engine. The satellite navigation screen flickered on.
“Drive 400 yards, then turn left.” The mechanical woman’s voice was somehow reassuring.
Jerry sucked in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before letting go—expelling his fear. He released the handbrake and pressed the accelerator. The car slid calmly forward and picked up speed. He was on his way.
* * *
The starless night sky was covered in thick, invisible clouds that poured cold rain on to the city streets. The glass-like needles of water shattered across the car, obscuring the windshield for a second, before the wiper swept them away, and the cycle started over.
The sedan weaved through the streets as Jerry numbly followed the mechanical woman’s voice. He wasn’t concentrating on the road. He was thinking of David. What the hell had happened? And who was the guy on the phone? What the hell was going on?
“You have arrived at your destination.”
Jerry glared at the sat nav screen and pressed hard on the brakes. Where was he? Peering out through the gaps in the rain as the windshield wipers shuffled backward and forward, he could see a large sign: Zen Lounge.
“Why the fuck would someone bring me here?”
Once again, Jerry’s iPhone chimed, as if on cue. He picked it up, slid his index finger across the onscreen bar to unlock it, and held to his ear.
“Go inside now and head to the bar. Order a drink and stay there. I will call you in ten minutes.”
Click.
Jerry stared at his phone, and then out at the club. He looked at his watch: 7:08 pm. He sighed, opened the car door, and stepped out into the rain. His ankle burned. Jerry winced. Covering his head with his sport jacket, he limped across the road and into the club. A large man dressed in a dark gray suit was standing in the doorway. He eyed Jerry closely.
“I’m meeting a friend inside,” he lied.
The doorman opened the door with a nod.
Jerry shook off the rain and re-adjusted his jacket onto his shoulders. His slim-fitting blue jeans and brown brogues were sodden and considerably darker in color than they were supposed to be when dry. A crowd of giggling girls to his left stopped their clucking and turned to him, a look of disgust on their faces. Used to this kind of treatment, and with bigger things on his mind, Jerry smiled weakly and carried on into the club.
The room was lit with a dim red hue, barely illuminating the various Buddha-esque statues dotted around the edges of the space. Large plasma screens adorned the walls, flashing images of people dancing. The dance floor was virtually empt
y, though it was relatively early. Jerry walked across to the bar, a large structure that had been fashioned to resemble a Chinese building; it was square, allowing access from all sides, and had a sloping roof. Red circular stools were placed all around.
Jerry sat on the nearest stool.
“What can I get you?” The barman rested both hands on the bar and offered a practiced grin that barely hid his disdain for working yet another nightshift.
“I’m sorry?” Jerry asked.
“Yeah, music’s a bit loud. What can I get you?”
“Oh, I’m waiting for a friend.”
“Well, it’s a two-drink minimum tonight, pal, so why don’t you order for you and your friend?”
“Right, sure, two beers, then.”
“Sure, what would you”
“Anything! Anything, it doesn’t matter.”
The barman raised his eyes to heaven and turned away briefly before reappearing with two bottles of beer. “That’ll be fifteen bucks.”
“Okay, thanks.” Jerry rummaged in his jeans and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change, okay.”
Jerry sat nervously, eyeing the smattering of people in the room. There were two middle-aged women in the corner, their handbags on the floor, gossiping while necking large glasses of champagne, and a strange little man standing on his own near the toilet doorway, nursing a glass of draught beer. It could be anyone. Any person in that room could have called him. Which one was it? What did they want? He picked up one of the beers and took a long swig.
Location: Unknown
Kelly sat on the deck. The ship looked smaller from up here. It was definitely military. Turrets with huge elongated gun barrels were strewn down either flank. A command center protruded into the blue sky some three hundred feet from him. This thing had to be as big as a frigate. Still, it was empty. A ship this large and no crew? It just didn’t feel right.
Children of the Fifth Sun Page 2