by Sepulchre
'Liam, we have to go back to London immediately.' He looked past her at the empty chair opposite.
Only grey ashes were in the fireplace and daylight did its best to penetrate the heavy curtains over the windows. Stone eyes still watched him from the corner of the room.
'Liam,' Cora urged.
'It's all right.' He stood, all drowsiness gone, his senses fully alert. He was angry with himself when he glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was nearly 8.40. Why the hell had he allowed himself to fall asleep in this room, and why hadn't one of the bodyguards woken him at the proper time? 'What's the problem, Cora?' he quickly asked.
'Felix has just had a call from Sir Victor. He has to return to Magma right away.'
'On a Sunday?' She nodded. 'It's serious.' He made towards the door, but her hand on his arm stopped him.
'Last night . . .' she said.
So much had happened the night before that it took him a second or two to understand what Cora meant. Her expression was so solemn, her eyes so grave, that he couldn't help but smile. 'We'll talk later,'
he told her, then kissed her cheek. They left the room together.
The streets of the City were empty, save for the few tourists who took the occasion of such quietness to view London's financial sector. Light drizzle soaked the pavements and roadways, freshening them for the onslaught they would take during the rest of the week. Glass towers glistened as though newly varnished, while older buildings hued darker as they soaked up the dampness.
A convoy of three cars, a black limousine, a Mercedes and a Granada, sped through the deserted streets, the drivers of each checking their surrounds and rearview mirrors each time they were halted by traffic lights.
Halloran was in the back of the second car, the silver-grey Mercedes, sitting next to Felix Kline, prepared to cover his client with his own body should anything untoward occur. Janusz Palusinski was driving the armoured vehicle, and Cora sat beside him in the passenger seat. Monk was the driver of the car ahead, Khayed and Daoud, who never ceased looking back to satisfy themselves that their master was not far behind, were his companions. In the Granada, the last in the procession, were two Shield men who had been taken off patrol duty around the estate.
Kline had been unusually silent throughout the journey, mentioning neither the events of the previous night, nor the reason for the summons to the Magma building that morning. Halloran realised he was witnessing yet another facet of this strange man's nature, a quiet brooding stillness that was in sharp contrast to Kline's irritatingly animated and talkative side. This mood was more akin to the soft-spoken, cultured role that Kline sometimes adopted, although again it was different, for there was no mocking in his gaze and no air of secret knowledge. The small man was withdrawn, thoughtful, seemingly unaware of any danger he might be in, with no agitation in his movements, no nervousness in his scrutiny. Yet Halloran could sense a deep anger burning inside him.
The Shield operative remembered the dream Cora had roused him from, for Kline had been part of it.
They had walked together, he and Kline, Halloran allowing himself to be led by the other man through a great blackness, his hand in Kline's as though they were lovers. Although nothing could be seen, he had felt a frightening vastness of space around and above them, as if they were inside a cathedral or a huge subterranean cave. Now and then something light would waft across his face, so that he recoiled, tearing there were long trailing cobwebs on all sides. Kline's whispered voice assured him that there was nothing to be afraid of, they were merely passing through thin, unseen veils. There was something in the distance, a tenuous mass that was blacker than the blackness around them, and Halloran could hear the sound of his own heartbeat as they drew nearer to that ultimate darkness, the thudding growing louder, joined by the beating of another's—Kline's—their life-surge keeping time, becoming as one. And then, all about the darkness, eyelids were opening in slow, drawn-out movements, so that a multitude of stone eyes stared as the two men drew closer to the void, the nucleus of the blackness itself. Kline had released his hand and was stretching his arms towards the core, creating an opening within its shell, their combined heartbeats becoming thunderous, joining—or so it seemed—with yet another whose loudness grew so that soon, very soon, it smothered their own, and although the rising sound appeared to emanate from the void before them, it was everywhere, filling the infinite space, deafening the two men. Kline was reaching inside that pitchy nothingness, arms trembling, his mouth gaping in a silent ecstatic scream and Halloran had moved close to see what it was that the other man grasped, but he was blind in such blackness; he could feel a terrible heat, sense something there, something he was glad he could not see. Yet still he reached out with Kline, the two men joined in an unholy alliance, compelled by the mystery . . .
'Liam.' And Cora's voice had recalled him from the dream.
'Liam.' The Mercedes was passing the Mansion House, the Magma building not far away, towering above others around it. Cora had turned in her seat and was looking directly at him.
Halloran blinked. He'd been completely lost in his own thoughts and once again was angry at himself for his negligence.
'Should we drive straight down into Magma's underground carpark,' Cora said, 'or do you want us to be dropped by the front entrance?'
'The carpark,' he replied. 'I arranged for it to be checked out by Shield before we left Neath. If there were problems they'd have contacted us.'
'Was there any news of those people who tried to stop us on Friday?' she asked.
Cora's face was still pale, her actions skittish, the weekend in the country apparently having had little calming effect, Halloran thought wryly. 'Nothing's turned up so far. Something'll break soon though, it usually does. We'll be okay so long as we're prepared.' He had addressed the last remarks to Kline, but the psychic's attention was averted; he was watching the streets, though Halloran had the feeling his client's vision was directed inwards.
The Magma Corporation's headquarters came into full view, and Halloran was once again impressed by its grandeur. The rain had intensified the lustre of its bronze surfaces, the deep shade of the windows defining and enhancing the metal sections so that the building's complicated structure was drawn in bold and deliberately simple lines. The curved buttresses and various levels added to the forcefulness of design, a formidable edifice amidst staid and less aggressive architecture.
The limousine ahead pulled into the kerb outside the main entrance and Halloran instructed Palusinski to keep moving until they reached the garage entrance around the corner in a narrow side-street. A member of the Shield team saw their approach and signalled for the entrance barrier inside the building to be lifted. The Granada followed the Mercedes down the ramp, the limousine now in the rear of the convoy.
The Pole reversed their vehicle into a bay and Halloran stepped out immediately it came to a halt. He quickly went around to Kline's side, right hand inside his jacket. A figure was already limping towards them as Palusinski opened the passenger door for Kline, and Halloran raised a hand in greeting. Mather's countenance was unusually grim.
'A word, Liam,' he said as he drew near.
'Go on ahead to the lift,' Halloran told the others. 'I'll join you there.' He went towards Mather, who ushered him a short distance away so that they would not be overheard.
'How have things been at your end?' the Planner said, stopping by a concrete pillar. At the top of the ramp the Shield operative who had signalled the car's approach stood with his back to them, observing the street outside.
'Not good as far as security's concerned,' answered Halloran. 'Neath is wide open.'
'But you've had no more trouble?' He hesitated before giving a shake of his head. 'What's wrong, Charles?'
'It's Dieter, I'm afraid.' Mather looked down at his cane, unconsciously tapping it twice on the ground.
'His body was recovered not more than an hour ago.' Halloran saw the others were walking towards the lifts, Monk and the
two Arabs following close behind. The two operatives from the Granada were standing by their car, waiting for further instructions. 'What happened?' he said to Mather.
'Shot through the back of the head. Gerald is with the police finding out a bit more at this very moment.
What we do know is that Dieter was tortured before being killed.'
'Jesus, Mary . . .' breathed Halloran. 'Who?' Mather shrugged. 'I haven't a clue, Liam. No trademarks that we're aware of as yet.'
'Where was he found?'
'Floating in the Thames. Whoever did it didn't even bother to weigh down the body.'
'Anything to do with this operation?'
'We can't discount that factor. If there is any logical reason for his murder, and providing it isn't the work of some outraged husband, then torture obviously suggests information was being sought. Nevertheless, it's somewhat drastic to go to such lengths just to gain details of our plans for Felix Kline. It's reasonable to assume that any would-be kidnappers have sufficient knowledge of their target without resorting to that kind of violence. Another theory is that someone with a grudge from Dieter's past hated him enough to inflict such injuries before ending his life.'
'There's another possibility,' suggested Halloran. Kline and his entourage were at the lifts and looking round to see what was delaying him. 'It could be a way of warning us off.'
'From protecting Felix Kline?' He nodded. 'It's our only major assignment at the moment.'
'Hmn, it's a thought, I suppose,' voiced Mather. 'Unlikely, though. In the event of a successful snatch, kidnappers would rather negotiate with K & R people than the authorities, who're invariably against payment of ransom money.' The lift doors were opening. 'We'd better join the others,' said Halloran. 'I assume we keep this to ourselves.' Mather limped alongside him, the group ahead beginning to enter the lift. 'No need to cause undue anxiety as far as our client is concerned. We may have to issue some kind of public statement once the Press gets hold of the story, but even then there's no reason why Dieter's death should be linked with the Magma contract.' Halloran signalled the two Shield bodyguards to wait in the carpark, and stepped ahead of Monk and the Arabs before they could follow their employer into the lift. 'Take the other one,' he ordered and before they could protest, Kline nodded his head in a gesture of assent.
Mather endeavoured to promote conversation during the swift journey to the eighteenth floor, but the psychic refused to be drawn from his brooding silence and Cora's replies were perfunctory although polite.
Sir Victor Penlock himself was waiting to greet them when the lift doors opened again. He wore a navy-blue double-breasted blazer over a fawn turtle-neck jumper, sharply pressed beige slacks adding to the casual elegance. Halloran realised that Magma's security guard in the booth by the carpark entrance must have reported Kline's arrival. It seemed unusual, though, that the chairman of such a vast corporation should be waiting so anxiously for one of his own employees.
'Sorry to have dragged you back to town, Felix,' Sir Victor apologised, 'but as I explained over the phone, the situation is serious.' Apparently a day for bad tidings, mused Halloran as Kline swept by Sir Victor with barely a glance. The tall chairman nodded towards the two Shield men before walking after the psychic. 'Henry is waiting for us in my office,' they heard him tell Kline as they, too, followed behind along the mauve-carpeted corridor. As they passed the display cabinets set in the walls on either side, Halloran rubbed a hand across his stubbled chin and wondered what the fuss was shout. Kline had not been forthcoming on the drive up to London, and Cora appeared to know no more than he, himself.
Judging by the gravity of Sir Victor's tone and by the fact that the matter could not be fully discussed over the telephone, the cause for concern was not only serious but extremely confidential, too. The corridor widened into the broad hallways and whereas previously he had heard normal office hubbub from the offices to his left and right, now there was only silence. The big double-door opposite was already open and the chairman ushered them through. Once inside, however, he asked Mother and Halloran to wait in the outer office.
Then Kline spoke up. 'No. Halloran can listen in on this. But not Cora.' Without another word he disappeared into Sir Victor's office.
The chairman raised his eyebrows at the girl, then indicated that Halloran should follow him. He went after Kline.
'Seems you're to be privileged,' Mother remarked lightly. 'Well, Miss Redmile,shall we see if we can brew up some tea for ourselves? Perhaps you'll remain on guard here, Mr, er, Palusinski?' The Pole sat at one of the two secretaries' desks. 'I will keep good watch,' he assured them and frowned, his eyes narrowing behind his spectacles, as he regarded the computer screen on the desk top. 'Such knowledge inside this tiny window,' he said distractedly.
Before Halloran went through to the main office, he caught C'orn's surprised expression; she was obviously bewildered by her employer's blunt dismissal. He closed the door behind him, curious himself about Kline's motive.
Quinn-Reece glanced up briefly from the papers neatly spread on a low table in front of him, but gave no sign of welcome. Kline was standing with his back to the room, staring out of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, the rain outside stippling the glass. Sir Victor vaguely waved towards a chair and Halloran lowered himself into it. Kline then did something quite unexpected: he whirled around, walked across to the chairman's broad, oak desk and took the seat behind it. He looked directly at Quinn-Reece and asked, 'How is it possible?' The vice-chairman cleared his throat before answering. Obviously we have a leak within the Corporation.' Sir Victor sat in a chair close to his own desk and tugged at the crease in his trouser leg. 'But who? How could such information be divulged so quickly unless its source was from a very high level.' Halloran shifted in his seat, puzzled but intrigued by the conversation.
'That isn't necessarily so,' said Quinn-Reece. 'Someone in the field team could be selling us out.'
'You mean that every single time that Consolidated Ores has negotiated exploration rights before us one of our agents in that particular area has gone over to them?' Kline spoke as though the notion were not feasible.
'It's hardly likely, is it?' Sir Victor agreed. 'The betrayal must he from these offices.' Halloran interrupted.
'Does what you're discussing have any bearing on my company's assignment for Magma?' As Kline, himself, had insisted that he 'listen in', ii was a reasonable assumption to make.
Quinn-Reece's reply was brusque. 'This matter doesn't concern Achilles' Shield in any way. As a matter of fact, I don't understand why your presence is required in this room.'
'I invited him,' Kline said quietly. He was staring at the vice-chairman, his dark eyes unblinking, and Quinn-Reece appeared uncomfortable under his gaze. 'Halloran has been hired to protect me, and this morning I feel in particular need of that protection. Strange how betrayal can leave you feeling so vulnerable.'
'You can't seriously imagine that Consolidated would be behind an attempted kidnapping?' the astonished Sir Victor protested. 'They may be formidable business rivals, and admittedly we've fought some fierce battles with them in the past, but it's always been purely on a competitive business basis. I can't honestly believe that they would resort to any kind of physical violence.'
'Someone has,' Kline snapped back.
'It might help if I know what's happened,' Halloran suggested.
'What's happened, my friend,' said Kline 'is that over recent months, practically every new source of mineral deposits I've discovered has been laid claim to by Consolidated Ores before our field agents have had a chance to make tests. It doesn't take an Einstein to figure out someone from within our own organisation is tipping them off.'
'If that's the case and they're getting their information anyway, why bother to kidnap you?' Halloran commented. 'Wouldn't that in effect be killing the golden goose? Besides, industrial espionage may be illegal, but it's nowhere as serious as abduction.'
'That's a fair argument, Felix,' put in Sir
Victor. 'Why should any rival company take that risk when it doesn't appear to be necessary?'
'Because sooner or later the informer will be exposed.' Kline's reply was calm, his demeanour having changed yet again, his normal (normal? Halloran had to wonder at the term) excitability subdued.
'But what good would kidnapping you do?' queried QuinnReece.
'Maybe the idea's to eliminate me permanently.' Sir Victor and his vice-chairman exchanged astonished glances.
'I think that would be too extreme, particularly if Consolidated really is involved. I know the chairman personally and although he's something of a scoundrel, I cannot believe he'd sanction murder. No, no Felix, that really is beyond the bounds of reason.'
'Then why do I feel so threatened?' Kline coolly retorted.
'Uh, perhaps, Felix, perhaps you're overwrought,' Sir Victor suggested cautiously. 'After all, so much reliance on your psychic ability must eventually take its toll. You know, you haven't had a proper break for quite some time now.' Kline smiled. And Halloran's eyes narrowed. Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, he hadn't realised until that moment that there was so much danger in the man.
'Yes,' the psychic admitted, 'I do feel in need of some rest. A few more days at Neatly maybe. And then some travelling.
Yes, it's time I ventured abroad again.' His smile withered. 'But that doesn't resolve our current crisis.'
'How often has this other company managed to beat you to these new locations?' asked Halloran, genuinely interested in Magma's problem.
Quinn-Reece provided the answer. 'Three times in a period of five months.' Halloran raised his eyebrows. 'That doesn't seem an awful 'I can assure you,' Sir Victor said, 'that in a world of diminishing natural resources, it is.'
'Couldn't it be coincidence?'
'We were prepared to accept that on the first two occasions,' replied the chairman. 'But Felix indicated to us only last Thursday that an as yet untapped source of copper could be found in a certain region of Papua New Guinea. By the time our agent had arranged to see the appropriate authority dealing with land exploration rights, negotiations were already well underway with Consolidated Ores. These matters are usually dealt with on a first-come, first-served, basis—provided contracts are favourable to the country of origins, naturally. But no, Mr Halloran, this time we're certain that confidential information is being disclosed outside almost as soon as we, ourselves, learn of new deposits.'