She should really call Ash, he’d be worried. And, strangely, if there was one person in the world – just one – who might just understand that her mind had been hijacked by an invisible entity from another world, then it was probably Ash. She began to feel guilty about hacking into his machine. There might be a perfectly plausible explanation for all that stuff about her she found. A little interest in a girl was healthy anyway and recent events had put a lot of things in context.
What do you feel about him?
Azrael’s voice startled her.
“What?” she said.
“What?” said Patrick.
The man you think about all the time. Asher Fielding. He’s a detective you work with, isn’t he?
“I don’t know,” she said.
No, there’s a lot of confusion in here, Alix. Anwick’s mind was very unemotional. Everything was logically laid out and departmentalised. Yours is saturated. It’s like living in a building site.
“Thanks,” and the comment even brought a small smile to her face.
“For what?” asked Patrick gruffly.
But he’s always there, you know. Him and Zara, floating around. But I can’t quite work out what you feel...
“Neither can I,” she admitted, slumping back against the lift wall.
“What?” asked Patrick. “Neither can I what?”
The lift stopped and a mechanical voice told them they had reached the tenth floor. The doors slid open to reveal a long corridor lined with oak bookshelves. The smell of old leather hung in the air. An enormous canvass showing a court room and lawyers in horse hair wigs eyeing each other resentfully hung on the other side.
As they stepped out, Patrick made no attempt to hide the look he gave Alix.
The Necromire that resides in Harker is called Lilith, explained Azrael. She is an ancient demon, a vanguard of the first of our kind to come to the Ether. For thousands of years she has worked to contain the Hollow One but she is bitter and vengeful.
“A perfect match, then,” said Alix.
Just don’t upset her.
“I already have.”
Outside Harker’s room Alix caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She’d looked better. She picked off a little mud from her nose and inspected the cut on her chin. It had healed surprisingly well. Her hair was fairly unsatisfactory. A cross between a bird’s nest and an old tyre yard.
Yes, for an audience with Amanda Harker Q.C., she looked perfect.
*
Penny puffed and panted as she hauled five bags of shopping across the multi-story car park. She had parked in a disabled bay to give her more room to get the shopping in the car but when she got to the car she saw someone had given her a ticket for not having a blue badge.
“Oh can this day get any worse?” she exclaimed, dumping the shopping by the boot before emptying the contents of her handbag out on the bonnet trying to find her keys.
Her phone rang and she answered.
“Hi mum... oh, not too bad but would you believe I got another parking ticket? ... I know! It’s because I never have the right change. Crazy, isn’t it? ... What? Yeah, things are going great, he’s so wonderful, mum, I’ve never been happier. I was actually just at Argos buying some stuff for his house. You should see it! It certainly needs a woman’s touch so I’ve got some coasters with pictures of dolphins on them... yeah, he loves dolphins... well, soon. He’s really high up in the police, you know, it’s not like criminals stop at the weekend or anything but soon. Next week maybe... I know I said that last week but something came up, a really important case and I need to support his career... I know, it’s tough but rewarding... ok... yeah... great... love to nan... bye.”
She clicked the phone shut and removed the feigned smile from her face. One of the bags was partially open revealing a soggy looking tuna pasta bake for one. She kicked it hard and sent the contents scattering under the car. She resisted the temptation to cry again. That was pointless, there were no more tears left, so she busied herself bundling the bags into the hatchback’s boot.
Something made her stop and turn round. She had heard something, a noise coming from the other side of the car park. She was on a high level and there weren’t many other cars near the mall at this time. A few spaces taken but not much. It must have been nothing and she turned back to the car. But there it was again. What was that? Scratching and scrambling, like a trapped animal trying to escape from a box.
“Hello?” she called out. She waited for a response but the noise stopped. Slowly, she turned back to the car.
The last noise she heard was the beating of wings and the crunching of a mass of feathers.
Chapter 68
“What the Hell’s going on?”
Baron hadn’t spoken since the Home Secretary had led Grigori away and put him in the back of an unmarked car. Now he poured himself a coffee from the filter behind his desk and sat stirring in the sugar, an unreadable look of indifference on his face. He didn’t answer Ash’s question immediately.
“Detective Sergeant Julian,” he said to Keera, not looking up from his drink. “Would you leave us for a moment?”
Keera scowled at the floor but thought better of defying Baron. She waited just long enough to make a point and slammed the door behind her.
“Boss?”
“Have a seat, Inspector.”
“Boss, did the Home Secretary just personally commandeer our lead suspect or am I dreaming?”
“Have a seat, Inspector.” Baron looked up suddenly. Ash sat down obediently. He was incensed and confused, but not stupid.
He waited for the DSI to finish stirring. Baron’s office was pristine; the desk was devoid of papers, no files spread out on the floor, pens neatly placed in a holder in the corner, the phone was perfectly in line with the edge of the desk. It was a miracle that Baron managed to work at all in such perfect order.
“Recent events,” he said slowly, as if he was choosing his words with great care, “have required me to consider a restructure of the way that we are approaching the Laicey cases. Concerns about resources have been raised by a number of very influential sources and I’m afraid that my weight isn’t perhaps what I thought it was.”
“What are you saying, guv?”
“What we’ve seen recently, Asher, is unusual. One murdered girl, two older men, both in their homes and a child missing. It’s a stressful situation for a young DI with less than a year under his belt in charge.”
Ash didn’t like the way that the last words were spoken. There was a tone of warning underneath them.
“Boss?”
“I didn’t want this to work out like this, Asher. I didn’t want you to be plunged head first into the deep end. I’m under pressure to keep this situation under wraps. The media are crawling all over White Helmsley at the moment. The massacre is their number one priority but with little progress on the case there’s only so many times they can run and re-run the same speculative crap about what happened and sooner or later they’ll cotton on to what’s happening here. I’m concerned that there may be a perception that we aren’t taking it seriously enough.”
“What the Hell do you mean, boss, not taking it seriously enough? Most of us haven’t slept in a week!”
“I’m not questioning the dedication of you and your team, Asher. But I am questioning your experience.”
Ash felt like someone had just winded him.
“My experience? You picked me for this, I-”
Baron held up his hands defensively, “I know, I’m as much to blame for this as anyone. I thought it would be an easy couple of years and you’d soon bed in. I hadn’t envisaged anything like this.”
“But we were making progress,” Ash protested. “Progress up until the point that you let the fucking Home Secretary take my lead suspect away.”
“That’s enough!” Baron bellowed, letting his hand fall on the table with a thud and upsetting the coffee cup. “Just remember your place, Inspector. Remember you’d be dir
ecting traffic if it wasn’t for me. This isn’t a negotiation, nor is it Jobs-for-Mates. You’re a good detective, Asher, but this shit is way over you.”
“So what does this mean?”
“It means I’m personally assuming conduct of the Laicey mystery, Anwick and Ephraim Speck’s crucifixion. You’ll be leading a sub-team to look into George Bricken’s murder.”
Ash weighed it up. Baron was right: he would be directing traffic if it wasn’t for him. But that didn’t give him the right to stab him in the back.
“But the Bricken murder may be connected to the Laicey’s and Speck. You can’t separate-”
“I can,” he said firmly. “I can, Asher. And George Bricken’s murder isn’t connected.”
“Reid says the murders are similar-”
“Reid’s job is to analyse hair samples, not make connections.”
“Who’s in my sub-team?”
“Eran Green and Jeff Eldridge.”
“And Alix and Keera?”
“With me.”
“No, wait, let’s just-”
“What part of this isn’t a negotiation are you struggling with, Inspector?” Baron glared up at him, his head leant over the desk and his dark eyes glinting under his bushy brow. Ash made a few movements with his mouth but he couldn’t think of anything clever to say.
“And Walter Cargil?”
“Is my problem.”
Baron looked at him expectantly. It was clear that the conversation was over. Ash got up and left. He ignored Keera looking at him quizzically from her desk and went straight to his office. When he slumped back in his chair with the door shut his phone rang.
“Sir? It’s Jeff. I’m at Doctor Franchot’s flat. You better get straight over here.”
When Ash hung up he looked down and noticed how badly his hand was shaking.
Chapter 69
Amanda Harker’s office took up what seemed like the whole of the tenth floor. Alix’s feet sank into a deep red carpet, freshly vacuumed; the smell of leather permeated the whole room. Every wall was covered with books. A complete collection of Halburys Laws of England and every statute book ever printed set out across shelves from floor to ceiling. A great chandelier hung delicately in the centre of the room and provided the only illumination. Heavy patterned curtains covered the windows giving the whole place a gloomy, old world feel.
The only other source of light: a fifty inch flat screen TV attached to the northern wall to the side of Harker’s desk. The screen showed a reporter wrapped in a heavy coat standing in the snow, a blazing fire behind her. Next to the Sky News symbol, the headline beneath her read M4 TERRORISM ATTACK. UK ON HIGH ALERT. As Alix approached the desk, she could see Harker had her back to her and was sat watching the screen, remote held loosely in one hand.
The reporter was speaking urgently, trying to convey the terror of the scene unfolding behind her, obviously chuffed to be one of the first covering the attack.
“Clive, you can see behind me a raging fire, which we’re told is what remains of the Shell petrol tanker explosion just hours ago. There’s a fire crew here battling to keep this under control but what’s more startling is the scale of this attack.” The camera panned away from the reported and up the motorway showing burnt out cars and smoking debris. “Over fifty cars have been practically destroyed in what is being dubbed the most extensive and expertly co-ordinated terrorist attack since nine eleven. It’s not yet clear how the terrorists managed to target so many individual vehicles or even what kind of explosives were used but I was speaking to Chief Superintendant John Baron of the Bristol Police and he told me so far there are nine confirmed fatalities and sixty six people injured. Twelve are missing and you’ll see behind me a massive effort made by the emergency services to find those missing people.”
“Janette, do you know if any one group has claimed responsibility for this attack yet?”
“Clive, we’ve not been told anyone has come forward yet but this is the work of a highly motivated and well resourced group with links to the UK and I think it would be unusual if the initial finger of blame wasn’t pointed at Al-Qieda and no doubt there’s a possibility that this is a revenge attack following the killing of Osama Bin Laden in May 2011 but there are other possibilities-”
Harker hit the mute button and turned to face Alix. She took her in and winced slightly. Like somebody had rearranged her furniture in a way she didn’t like. For what seemed like a long time, there was silence. Alix stood awkwardly and couldn’t help being brought back to the times at school where she was summoned to the head masters office.
“That’ll be all, Patrick,” she sighed, waving him away.
“I thought I’d stay, Miss,” he said. “This girl was talking to herself in the lift. I think she’s a little, you know, wacky.” He twirled his finger next to his head and crossed his eyes to add effect.
“Thank you, Patrick, for your concern but perhaps you and Melony can go and swap make-up ideas.”
Patrick looked disgusted and left. Alix managed a smile. There might even be a case for liking the sour-faced bitch.
“Hi. I know about the Necromire,” she said casually when Patrick had gone.
“Yes. I know,” Harker replied. Alix was about to speak again but Harker had turned back to the TV screen. She clicked the remote and the image rewound for a few seconds. She pressed play and the screen switched to a grainy image of the motorway, the tanker just off screen, the focus was a red Audi. In the background, the reporter from earlier was talking.
“This was one of the videos sent to us of the M4 attack taken by an eye witness’s mobile phone. The noise you can hear is of a car just off screen exploding but watch this unknown female crash through the back screen and, this is unbelievable, Clive...”
Alix visibly shrank as she saw herself burst out of the car’s back window in a shower of shattered glass, hit the tarmac and leap unnaturally off the carriageway taking Charlie with her just before the car was consumed by fire. The video quality was poor and ended with the phone being dropped in the snow.
“We’re trying to establish whether this video is a hoax or not, Clive, but, if it’s not, experts are at a loss to explain how this woman managed to cover such an incredible distance so quickly. You can see her literally fly off the carriageway taking five year old Charlie McDermont with her to safety in what seems like a super-human feat.”
“Janette, have you had any luck tracking this woman down?”
“No, unfortunately she’s one of the fifteen missing people but we did get this interview with Martha McDermont, the mother of the child you can see swept up in the unknown woman’s arms.”
The shot switched to an harassed looking woman in her forties nervously speaking into a Sky News microphone.
“He just said this woman picked him by the scruff of the neck and flew with him to the other side of the bank. Have you ever heard of that?”
“Mrs McDermont, what do you say to people who say this was some kind of female super hero?”
The woman’s eyes shifted nervously from side to side before Harker switched the screen off.
More uncomfortable silence. Harker spoke first.
“I assume the Necromire inside you speculated that the Harbinger had assassinated Anwick and that, miraculously, in her final moments of existence, she was able to convey into you?”
“She?”
“We refer to all Necromire as female although they are technically genderless. Azrael? Is that you?”
Tell her I’m not here¸ the Necromire hissed.
“Yes,” said Alix. “Azrael is... in me.”
Snitch.
“Indeed. So now you’re part of the family, doctor Franchot. That video of you is on You-Tube. Half a million views so far and counting. Well done. Although what the Hell you were doing at Innsmouth without my authority is entirely a different matter.”
“Disproving you. That’s what I was doing. Building a case to show that Anwick didn’t kill Katelyn Laicey.�
�
“Of course Anwick didn’t kill Katelyn Laicey! Eugene Anwick was the Host to a Necromire who is, although heavily flawed, supposedly on our side.”
You’re very kind, said Azrael.
Alix opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She still didn’t understand. She felt Harker’s penetrating eyes bore into her. It sent a shiver down her spine.
“Tea?” Harker asked.
“What?”
“Would you like some tea?” She spelt the words out carefully, as if she was talking to a simpleton. “It’s decaffeinated ,” she added, giving her a knowing look.
“Okay,” Alix agreed and a pot was produced almost immediately. She took a sip and nearly gagged. “It’s cold!” She exclaimed. Harker smiled, unconcerned. In the background, Alix became aware of the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Suddenly, it was all she could hear.
“That little stunt you pulled on the motorway was potentially costly. We have existed in secret for ten thousand years. You have managed to expose us in less than twenty four hours,” Harker lowered her eyes dangerously.
“I was trying to get out of the car,” Alix protested. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“Nonetheless, I am intrigued to know why the Harbinger went to such great lengths to try and destroy your Necromire. Equally, I am intrigued to know why he has now apparently failed, twice. A most unusual turn of events.”
“I’m pleased to have entertained you. But I still don’t understand what’s going on.”
“No, apparently you don’t. Perhaps you do deserve some indulgence, though. From the beginning?”
“From the beginning.”
Harker sat back in her chair and folded her arms. Inexplicably, the ticking had stopped. Alix glanced at the clock; the pendulum was suspended mid-swing. She looked back at the beehive, confused.
“Time is not on our side, my dear,” Harker explained.
“You can stop time?”
“For a short while. Why don’t you concentrate on warming your tea while I explain?”
Church of Sin (The Ether Book 1) Page 30