THE SEVENTH EVENT

by Phillip Shaw

  Arbitan stepped back and allowed Massaro to answer the bland questions from the press. He had announced himself; his name would be broadcasted across the world. To many it would mean nothing but to those who mattered it was the declaration of war.

  Jenny Darcy began her piece. ‘There we have it. The tragic death of a sportsman will be used to help the underprivileged members of our society. That is not the end of the story however as a police investigation is on-going into this death and the death of another male, Stan Markov, joint proprietor of an automobile beauty shop in lower Manhattan. We will be back with more reaction from the gathering crowd who have started to leave floral tributes at the doors here. But for now, this is Jenny Darcy for Blaincorp.'

  Kim Clements moved through the crowd to the barriers, surprisingly the two PMC guards had been left out the front and normal security surrounded the two speakers. ‘Clyne spoke very well for a grease monkey' she said to Janice. Janice nodded in agreement as the two stood to wait for the obligatory questions from local media to finish. Already scores of people had laid flowers up at the podium. Kim looked away; flowers were missing from the last funeral she attended. At least, these people can have a focal point for their grief; the death may bring some good. It isn't just a dark abyss that sucks the life out of the survivors. Janice was standing awestruck at the scene before her as well. Her large frame drew a few onlookers but most were caught up with the furore of press and police. Kim knew this story had just begun, she needed to get inside, Massaro and Clyne both needed questioning after this performance.

  Thomas Blain sat staring at the news feed. He marvelled at how someone as unskilled as Umberto Massaro had risen through the ranks. He had been a good boy, did whatever the society asked him, didn't push against his restraints and as a reward had been handed New York City to play in. Blain felt the man would have been better suited to the sleepy Italian village he was born in. The other man now rose to speak, he hadn't seen him before among Umberto's inner circle, Blain presumed this was some masterstroke of the order or Massaro to give the press something good to take out of the situation. Losing a prize pet like Hutchens was not normal and Umberto had brought this marionette up to say where the money was going. Maybe there is a future for Umberto after all. Mackintosh thought he was a weak fool but he was sitting in the big apple and she had been at Brussels for years waiting her time in the spotlight.

  Tatum walked in with the morning news feeds. She wondered what her boss was watching so intently as she bent down to leave them on the table. It didn't matter to her, all she cared about was doing a good job for him, and he had been so kind to her since spotting her talents at that desk downstairs now it looked like he was doing the same for her friend Jenny. He seemed unusual to her, his hand was on his sword-shaped letter opener but instead of toying with it, as usual, the knuckled were blanched. She looked at his face, something was wrong, the colour that usually was there had vanished, his mouth was aghast, and if she was not mistaken a tear was running from the corner of each eye.

  Schultz and Sulién sat over a morning espresso. Sulién was to assist his superior in information collation. He enjoyed the older man's company, he was so refined so cultured and such a difference from that thug Miller. He was glad he had returned to London. If what had been revealed earlier was true then this was a time for cool heads and hearts not the emotionally retarded. The screen on the wall showed one of the American adept, Umberto Massaro. Sulién had never met the man; he had been plucked from the rural eastern coast of Italy and placed in New York after his enlightenment. From all accounts he was a model pupil, carrying out the will of the order and controlling anyone who looked like a risk. In fact, the dead man they were talking about had been a risk identified by Schultz a few years ago. A tennis player who wanted to do more than play the sport, he had a fan base to rival rock stars, now it had come to a sad end in front of a floral tribute. Sulién stopped dead as the coffee cup hit the floor. He didn't just say that word, he couldn't have.

  Schultz startled by the noise of the broken ceramic turned to his friend. ‘Now do you believe me, Patrick?'

  22. Trail

  Markus' jet lag did nothing to help his mood. Since leaving Europe yesterday they hadn't rested. He had stayed awake on the flight hoping to prise some information from his new partner. The most he had got was a glare that suggested he could end up on the wrong end of her blade. Ava had spent the time sleeping peacefully and as a result now sat bright-eyed staring at him.

  ‘Not a morning person Magister Stent?' she asked coyly.

  ‘If I knew what time morning was then I could answer that.' He growled. They were travelling in a blacked out SUV provided by the order in America, to the local law enforcement they would be outside contractors, security experts hired in to assess the carnage at the prison. There were still a few miles to go so Markus took it upon himself to reassert some authority in this partnership.

  ‘Ava if we are going to work together I need to know more about you, more about your training. ‘

  ‘What do you need to know?'

  This openness shocked Markus but he kept his face emotionless. He couldn't feel any pressure on his thoughts. ‘Well for a start, how did you fall into the service of Schultz and the order?'

  ‘I was chosen; I discovered that I could see people's thoughts at an early age. I knew it wasn't right so I told my parents; they took me to the doctors. After a few years of tests, I realised the only way I was going to get out was to say I had made it all up. I confessed that anything I had done before was a lucky guess and they let me out. Trouble was I lied. I continued to influence people at my school, cheating on tests, making teachers let us out early, just normal childhood desires. Then I was caught out. I was moved to a school for the gifted, away from my Austrian home to Bavaria. Schultz found me himself. He was a teacher at my school, I didn't know of his real position until I was chosen. The other pupils in the class were returned but I remained. I passed the tests. I knew something was different, I couldn't read the teachers' minds so I concentrated on my pupils. Schultz discovered it and so did another teacher Dr. Flint. Together they took me aside and explained who they were, who we all are and why we are here. I knew my gift wasn't natural, their explanation convinced me. I trained and here I am.'

  Markus pondered for a moment, Ava was so cold, so precise like the workings of a machine. He couldn't believe she had told him everything is short succinct sentences. He knew that Schultz had been a teacher but he had no idea there was some sort of school in southern Germany devoted to finding Adept. Markus always thought Adept revealed themselves over time, it was true the earlier you discovered one the more useful they could be but to take one as early as Ava when she was still a child was a thought which cut through his jet lag like the blade she carried. From his only dealings with her so far, he had determined she didn't lie. He delved deeper.

  ‘What about your training? On the train, we worked well as a team and I can see you have no problem getting your hands dirty, but what did you train in?'

  ‘I remember sitting in class one day, we were dissecting a frog, the scalpel felt so balanced, no conflict in it, I picked it up and threw it at the wall, it stuck where I aimed. It was something that my gift had nothing to do with, an affinity I had. From then I just liked blades, when I was training in the order I started building my own until I had it perfect. It's the only thing sometimes that makes me feel human.'

  Those last words said with an outward breath saddened Markus before he had known adept but they were just figureheads, people to be feared and protected. Destined for higher things, the young slight girl in front of him was still a girl, he decided against any more questions, they had nearly reached the jail, instead he passed her a bottle of water. He couldn't help remembering why he didn't believe in working with others.

  The prison loomed ahead of them like the defeated fortress on a conquered land. Smoke still rose from the wreckage of one of the wings and there was an aura of death all arou
nd, hanging in the air like a moist fog. The exercise yard had turned into a mass coroner's office and screens had been erected to protect the dignity of the dead. Seventy-five inmates and prison personnel had been killed in the riot and subsequent fire among them the adept Governor of the prison. Schultz had been quiet on the reason for an adept being in charge here but Markus knew it was a way to remove possible enemies. The governor's body would be the place to start.

  Ava stepped out of the vehicle first, the blade only noticeable to Markus, others would no doubt be infatuated by the rest of her. She moved with a stern assurance and waited by the side of the vehicle for him. He stepped out taking his time to adjust after travelling for so long, shades adjusted joints creaking he checked his weapon was in its holster and wrapped his jacket around him, despite the heat of an early morning in Dallas, Markus Stent did not travel without a jacket. He joined her side and with a nod, they walked towards the security cordon.

  ‘Agent Stent, here for the clean-up operation.' He flashed the security card he had been provided with at the airport and was waved through. The scene that greeted him was like something from a war zone. The remains of the dead were collected together and placed under white sheets. Markus could see from the outline below the sheets that not all of the bodies had remained intact. He sought out the person in charge for the lowdown. A man holding a clipboard with a haunted look in his eyes fitted the bill. He spoke quietly to Ava, and she whispered back. ‘That man must be in charge, the thoughts in his head they all cry pain and confusion.' Markus would have to ask her later if her talent actually allowed her to read minds or just manipulate him. He needed to keep a lid on things; the proximity of a willing adept stirred the detective in him. They approached the troubled man who identified himself as the local sheriff.

  ‘European? Well, I guess this is an unusual riot. Heck in all my years I have never seen anything like this. It's just madness. They tore each other apart.' The sheriff lifted the nearest sheet to highlight his point. Markus looked down; Ava just behind stared emotionless at the body. The arms had been broken, dislocated from the shoulders as if pulled in separate directions, the fingers on the left hand hung by their skin. The face had been pounded into a bloody pulp with no recognisable features. The best they could say was that this had been an athletically built young man. The cause of death was noted on a chart beside him as asphyxiation. ‘He choked to death?'

  ‘He was crushed like many others; the brutality seems to have been done post mortem.'

  ‘Why are the bodies out here in this heat?' Ava said.

  ‘We were told you would be coming, our instructions were to collect the bodies, line them up like this and await your instructions. My superiors said that you had your own way of doing things. I'd suggest whatever you do with these that you do it quickly. Cos like the young lady says, it's hot in Dallas and we need to get these remains to the morgue.'

  Markus thanked the sheriff and sent him to gather an itinerary of the identified bodies so far. Passing the second page to Ava he said ‘Look at the bodies, the cause of death, anything that isn't as grotesque as this one note it, name, address and history. We will meet in the middle.'

  Without any hesitation, Ava walked to the far end with her notepad and began. At that age, Markus would have emptied his stomach over such sights. Not now. First, few bodies were clear signs of riot, mob violence death either by crushing or vicious beatings. A few stabbings but mostly the murders had been performed with blunt implements. Nothing of note so far. On and on the bodies went until he reached one of the Magisters. The agent's tattoo was visible and the body itself looked in good condition compared to the others. Markus turned the body over and saw the damage. A large laceration just off centre heading upwards on her back. Death would have followed swiftly but the lack of further damage suggested that this may have been the last enemy and the last bullet in a gun. The other agent's body was worse, the shin bone protruded from the skin, clearly broken by a larger heavier attacker, the bones hyperextended though the rear of the calf. Walking again would have been months, amputation possible. Neither of these mattered as the wounds to the chest of the female had ended her life. Both bodies lay beside each other, they had died together protecting each other, evident from the gunshot wounds to the eight bodies around them. Markus turned away in disgust and went over to Ava. She was looking at the Governors body. Blemish free except the face, the eyes liquefied, punctured by something, the trauma and shock back into the brain. Death was painful but mercifully quick. Ava for the first time was starting to show emotion. The other bodies had taken her no time at all yet she lingered over this one. ‘What is it, Ava?'

  ‘He was like me wasn't he?'

  Markus nodded. Ava turned away, ‘He wasn't trained like me.' he saw her grip the hilt of her blade as she fell into line beside him. They compared notes. Nothing of interest. Both had ignored the large sheet in the middle. They pulled it back. The remains of an undetermined number of people lay charred in a pile. Markus estimated, at least, five bodies hand been burned beyond recognition. He looked at Ava, ‘This has to be it, Sheriff? You can begin moving the other bodies; we need forensics down here to identify what they can.' The sheriff and his team began loading the other bodies. The two agents were collected separately as was the governor. Ava turned to Markus, ‘Whoever did this to them must have survived.' Markus nodded, ‘That's our only lead, now we need to figure out who these people are and why they are dead. We have to hope there's a trail.'

  23. I.D.

  It didn't take long for the process to begin. The prison kept DNA records off all inhabitants. The painstaking process of identification had begun as soon as the surviving prisoners had been placed back in their cells. Markus and Ava looked at the list of the fallen. The two dead agent's names had been stricken from the records. They would have grieving families but their own family had already mourned, buried and moved on. Losses were not common in the order but they had protocols to deal with every eventuality. There had not been an eventuality to rival the death toll here in many years. There need be no cover up, the story of the riot was its own clean-up operation. The dead had all been accounted for now the missing were all that remained. Three guards four prisoners and a visitor to the prison identified as Pamela Harding, a state-appointed defence lawyer.

  The two agents studied the prison intelligence files on the missing any normal prison may have had some information but the complicated network of servers and storage devices each Magister networked would reveal its true purpose to the initiated. Markus entered his username and password and upon checking his phone for the randomly generated pin was welcomed by his own desktop a simple picture of Everest. The files were detailed in the extreme; the entire prison's history was at his fingertips as well as footage of the execution room. The victims had all been studied and filed under three categories, Threat, confirmed, undetermined. I wonder what one caused this mess thought Markus. The last log was the interrupted execution of James Coated, a small-time independent film director convicted of underage molestation, drug abuse, supplying drugs to a minor and first-degree murder. With a rap sheet so long the death penalty was certain. Ava saw the screen as well. ‘What happened there?' She said Markus replied ‘The date's yesterday, before the riot.'

  The report had been compiled by one of the dead agents but it too was unfinished, the digital snapshot of the report allowed it to be read in its entirety. ‘The time of shutdown must have been when the adept died.' Ava just nodded. They both scanned through the document.

  Account of the execution of James Coates, subject 119. Magister Cortez. The subject Coates had been kept longer than most. The detailed analysis of him has proven inconclusive and conclusive at the same time. We identified him as a threat almost as soon as he entered the country. His time here and his interactions with others have not changed that opinion. He is dangerous, seems unaffected by the adept presence and is charismatic. However unlike other confirmed threats the sight of the governor doesn't
throw him into the rage state. This is a new precedent. Usually, the rage state confirms the ability and is needed for the removal procedure however the combination of aspects in 119 meant the order was passed. Termination is to follow.

  Termination has been aborted. The subject 119 has shown other disturbing traits. At the moment of extinction, the power of the adept on the executioner wavered. The subject then began speaking to the gathered unsullied. The results were unexpected. Further study will be needed in this case and I await authorisation from HQ, full file attached wait……

  The screenshot ended there, Markus took a moment. The file still had the send option highlighted. The message had never reached HQ. Taking a pen drive from his jacket he downloaded the files on James Coates. Ava didn't even question him. She had been well trained on Magister Protocol. When on a mission you do the job to the best of your abilities. The debriefing is where rules come in. return with the objective completed and how you did it is secondary. Markus lived by this ethos.

  The DNA results from the mangled remains of the bodies were being rushed through by on-site specialists. Firstly the existence of DNA then the job of separating the remains into coherent forms. The first results came slow. Coates DNA was evident and then Harding, the missing prisoners and guards followed over the next few coffee fuelled hours until finally the results were complete.