Kymiera

by Steve Turnbull

  ‘What’s this one?’

  ‘Another abandoned residence. Built on the land previously owned by the manor.’

  ‘Get a squad to check it.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Graham stirred from his cocoon of smugness. ‘You’re wasting men, Mitchell. We’ll need everyone in the main building.’

  ‘And if they decided to hide in that building and escape after we’d gone past?’

  Mitchell knew Graham had done some sort of deal with Utopia Genetics.

  ‘There’s a helipad on the southwest corner of the estate,’ said Lament. ‘Not in our records.’

  Graham stirred again. ‘We’ll take that, Mitchell.’

  The vehicle took a sharp left, its wheels slipping on the snow, then the chains bit in and it moved up.

  ‘Aren’t you going to turn the lights off?’ said Graham.

  ‘We’re police, not a hit squad,’ said Mitchell. ‘We want to arrest people, not kill them from the shadows.’

  The windscreen cracked as something fast-moving hit it.

  ‘I don’t think they want to be arrested,’ said Graham.

  ‘This vehicle is fully equipped with bullet-proof glass and panels,’ said Lament. ‘Firing coming from the main building.’

  ‘Get in as close as you can. Their sniper won’t be able to shoot at that angle.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The gate from the narrow lane into the building’s grounds was closed. Lament took no notice and accelerated. The vehicle ripped through, though the sudden loss of speed jerked all the passengers forward. The five cars behind pulled through as well and fanned out. One of them stopped and a marksman took up a position at the rear.

  Mitchell activated the car’s loudspeaker and his voice boomed across the snow. ‘THIS IS THE POLICE. EVERYONE ON THIS PROPERTY SHOULD CONSIDER THEMSELVES UNDER ARREST. LAY DOWN ANY WEAPONS AND LIE DOWN WHERE YOU ARE. ANY ATTEMPT TO RESIST WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to kill anyone,’ said Graham.

  ‘That’s why they get a warning,’ said Mitchell.

  The other cars headed for the main building while Lament took a path leading to the southwest corner. The helipad was lit up and several men stood around a helicopter. The rotors were beginning to turn.

  A spray of machine gun bullets splattered across the windscreen, leaving scarred trails. The car stopped.

  ‘Orders, sir?’ asked Lament.

  ‘Immobilise the chopper.’

  The car spun its wheels on the snow and then kicked forward.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ shouted Graham.

  ‘I hope you’re buckled up,’ said Mitchell. Intense gunfire raked across the windshield and bodywork; cracks appeared in the glass but they were closing on the helicopter fast. The men with the guns held their ground until the moment they realised the car was not going to stop. They threw themselves out of its path as it bumped violently up on to the pad, took less than a second to cross the distance and slammed into the helicopter’s body. The skid on their side collapsed under the strain and the body tilted.

  The car shuddered to a halt. Mitchell unclipped his seatbelt and threw himself out of the car.

  The rotors were winding down, but they were now at an angle and lethal. Staying low, Mitchell moved outside their circle and trained his gun on the figures now crawling in the snow. There was still too much noise to give the warning protocol. But the kidnappers could see the weapon. They left theirs on the ground and knelt up with their hands behind their heads.

  Graham got out, looking with concern at the rotors.

  The sound of gunfire erupted from the main building and then cut off.

  Keeping his gun on the kneeling men, Mitchell looked up at the one passenger in the helicopter. He recognised the face: Alistair McCormack.

  This was going to be difficult. Utopia controlled most of the medical equipment in the city. They couldn’t be closed down. The people needed to have something they could trust. The face of Mercedes Smith was that symbol.

  Mitchell gestured for the man to get out, and he climbed down.

  Graham came over, taking note to get between Mitchell and his prey.

  ‘Well done, DI Mitchell. I’ll be sure to recommend a commendation for the help you’ve been to the Purity today.’

  McCormack climbed shakily down from the cockpit. He clung on to the struts as if he was going to fall over at any time.

  ‘This is a police operation, Special Agent.’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘This is my collar.’

  ‘We can’t have you destabilising the city, and something like this would be potentially bad for the entire country.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘I can, and it’s already done,’ said Graham. ‘A rogue element of Utopia Genetics, run by Alistair McCormack—’ he nodded in the man’s direction ‘—was operating on freaks outside the jurisdiction of the Purity. Of course the rest of the board knew nothing of it. We have apprehended him, and he, with his entire operation, will be tried by the Purity. Those who knew no better will be quarantined for a period to ensure there is no infection. Those who were complicit will be dealt with appropriately.’

  ‘The press?’

  ‘Will know nothing. If they find out, they will also find they are not permitted to print it.’ Graham turned to Mitchell with an earnest look. ‘This is for the country, and for the people. We cannot let their faith in our power be undermined.’ Not waiting for a response, Graham strode off across the snow towards the main house.

  Mitchell shivered. The icy wind was blowing in across the Cheshire Plain from the Irish Sea.

  He felt empty and frozen inside.

  On automatic, he went over to the men on the ground and cuffed them. He muttered their rights as he did so. Even though, under the Purity’s jurisdiction, they had none. McCormack did not move and Mitchell cuffed him as well.

  ‘Were you operating on your own, McCormack?’ said Mitchell.

  ‘It was my operation,’ he said.

  ‘Who else on Utopia’s board knew?’

  The man shook his head. But Mitchell did not need him to say it. He knew the truth. That was the deal that Mercedes Smith had struck with Graham. Utopia gives up McCormack, Graham gets the credit for the arrests.

  ‘Where are the girls, McCormack?’

  He shook his head again.

  ‘Listen, you Scottish git, I don’t care that you’ve been sold out by Utopia to cover their tracks. I don’t care that the Purity will take you and all your people. I just want the girls—I know what they are, I know they aren’t S.I.D.’

  McCormack looked up finally, stared at Mitchell’s face only inches from his.

  ‘Did you kill them, McCormack?’

  ‘They’re alive.’

  Mitchell’s eye was caught by a movement behind McCormack. Something human-sized moved in the trees and then was gone.

  Chapter 3

  Chloe

  She had spent the night in a nearby house. The owners had clearly been very well-to-do before it was abandoned. As she had before, she spent the night sleeping on a table to stay off the mouldy furnishings. Though she searched, she had been unable to find one of those airtight bags, but there was a small office which was cosy enough. Being out of the way, the place had not been pillaged and there were tins of food in the kitchen that were still edible, although they tasted of metal. Perhaps the owners had been so rich they had flown off to somewhere warm to save themselves from the plague. Maybe they were still there.

  After a few hours’ sleep, and more tinned breakfast, she crept out of the house and took to the trees again. The place had been crawling with police last night and she had seen Mitchell take down the helicopter. She had heard every word of his conversation with that Alistair McCormack. She had no idea who he was, but that he was high up in Utopia Genetics was clear. As was the deceit of the Purity guy. They just played games with people’s lives—with her fri
end’s life.

  There were still a few police here as she went round the building. The trees were good for travel, but she tended to shake the snow from the branches which was too obvious. She went down to ground level and then crossed the open space to the building.

  Inside, the echoes were sufficient to keep her out of the way of the men guarding the place. They were bored and uninterested. They didn’t expect anyone to be sneaking around.

  She found her way down to each of the levels and scouted them as best she could. There was nothing to find. There were no records, no computers, nothing working. The lower levels had no light at all, though it made little difference to her. She found the cells and the bodies. They were stone cold now. She rummaged in their pockets looking for some sort of light because the one thing she couldn’t do with her hearing was read. One of the dead men had smoked—a very expensive vice these days—and had a lighter. She grinned humourlessly; the movies she watched so avidly had taught her a lot about how things had been pre-plague.

  It took a few attempts to get the lighter to work. She knew the theory that she had to snap the trigger, but it was awkward and the damn thing kept slipping.

  Finally she succeeded and instantly wished she hadn’t. The bodies she had been searching had their throats ripped out. She looked round nervously. She knew there was nothing alive nearby except her, but the idea there might be a murderous freak lurking nearby in the dark was something she found hard to shake. She had had enough experience of them recently.

  She stared at the cable that had been ripped from the ceiling. It was hard to imagine why it was like that—perhaps there was something wrong with it.

  Using the light sparingly she went down each side passage to the cell doors. The first was open and had the name Lucy Grainger scrawled on a board just beside the door. One of the kidnapped girls. The next door had been smashed in from the outside. Vanessa Cooper. Another of the kidnapped girls. Chloe almost held her breath as she took the third passage. Again the door was unlocked.

  Melinda Vogler.

  She almost wept as she ran her fingers across the words. McCormack had said they were alive. Chloe let the light die and put the lighter in her pocket. It was stealing, but it would be useful if she needed to light a fire. Until it ran out.

  There had always been the thought in the back of her mind Melinda might be dead. She didn’t want to believe it. And now she had come so close to rescuing her and failed. If she had been just an hour earlier. The police had not had time to clear the place, so the kidnappers—Utopia Genetics—must have done it themselves. They must have known the police were on their way and cleared out, and taken the girls with them.

  But the dead bodies, the broken door, the torn-down cabling? They told a different story, but Chloe had no idea what it was. Perhaps they had an insane freak down here as well, and it had done the damage? She shook her head. It didn’t matter.

  Melinda had been here, now she was gone, but she was alive.

  All Chloe had to do was find out where Utopia had taken them this time. They must have done it in a rush—which was why some of their people had been caught. So wherever they had taken them, it wouldn’t be as well hidden or as well equipped.

  But she had no idea where to start.

  She had managed to get this far on her own but she had been lucky. There had been a trail to follow, but she had no access to the net anymore. She wasn’t part of the system. She pulled off the hat and held it. It needed cleaning.

  She was not afraid of being found, she was underground and she hadn’t seen a riffy pylon anywhere nearby. Looked like it was true what people said about the countryside.

  There had been a toilet back in the tunnels. She went back to it and found there was still hot water in the pipes. Using the soap in the dispenser she washed herself and cleaned the hat.

  It might even be possible to live somewhere like this for a while. If one house had tinned food, others would too. There might even be enough to last until spring. But she couldn’t stay here now, she couldn’t wait. She had to find Melinda.

  She headed up to the top level, and back into the fresh air. Daylight filtered through into the dark corridors and she found a room with a sofa. Not the dank, rotting furniture of the abandoned homes but one that was dry, well cushioned and comfortable.

  Settled on her side so her wings didn’t get in the way, she went over the conversation Mitchell had had with the Purity guy. He said that Purity was taking over the whole thing. That would be dangerous for Melinda and the others, but they hadn’t been captured. Mitchell hadn’t seemed happy about that. Also, he had not turned her in. Was he on her side?

  It was a comforting thought if it was true. Right now she needed friends, but she did not have any way of contacting him. And Miss Kepple, she had helped as well, even though she was the Purity. Chloe got the feeling Sapphire was slightly crazy, but she thought the teacher was in love with her, so that was two.

  Then there was Dog, and he said there were others like her—which meant Vanessa Cooper and Lucy Grainger were probably like them as well. Dog wanted to help; he had been pissed off when she’d refused to go with him. So that was even more.

  Maybe she wasn’t alone, except she didn’t know how to contact any of them. Except Sapphire, and to do that she needed access to the net. The only place she knew where she could do that was Aunt Mary’s house. She didn’t want to put her in any more danger, but it was the only option she had.

  First she’d go back to that house and stock up on food. The hunger was not as bad as it had been, perhaps her wings had finally stopped developing, but it was still there.

  Chapter 4

  Mitchell

  Mitchell put on the kettle and heaped two measures of his best leaf tea into the pot. He gave the milk a sniff, it was still okay.

  Then he peeled off his coat and jacket. He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept.

  And there was little prospect of sleep now. He’d had Lament send a message to Yates to meet him here and he was due. There wasn’t much time.

  The knock on his door came sooner than expected, then he realised it was because he had dozed off. The water was boiling and he poured it into the teapot before going to the door.

  Yates did not look as if he’d spent the entire night awake. He had even found time to shave.

  ‘Boss,’ he said by way of greeting and Mitchell let him inside. Yates dropped his coat on the back of his chair and accepted the tea in a delicate china cup. If he thought it odd, he said nothing.

  ‘We nearly had them,’ he said. ‘If we’d been a little bit earlier.’

  ‘The whole thing was a set-up,’ said Mitchell. His head ached with tiredness. He was going to have to get a couple of hours. Not like Yates, who could spend the night bouncing around on his forensic lover and manage the entire day as if he’d had eight hours of beauty sleep. Mitchell remembered what it was like to be young. ‘Graham and Mercedes Smith had done a deal. She threw McCormack to the wolves and she gets to keep everything else. Maybe share it with Graham personally, maybe with the Purity as a whole. Either way it was timed so we caught the sacrificial goat but none of the important stuff.’

  ‘Nice deal for them.’

  ‘And crap deal for us.’

  They sipped their tea in silence. Mitchell savoured it, with what he was thinking it might be the last chance he got to have a decent cup. But he didn’t want Yates to suffer the same fate.

  ‘I’m approving your leave,’ he said.

  Yates put down the cup. ‘Trying to get rid of me?’

  ‘This could get awkward, no reason for you to be taken down at the same time.’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful, boss, but not necessary.’

  ‘Necessary? No, but it’s a good idea. If I screw this up we need someone in the office who knows what happened and can hold it all together.’

  Yates laughed. ‘Me? You think I’m the person for that gig? I just want the easy life.’

  ‘Easy life? Tha
t’s why you became a copper?’

  Yates pointed out of the nearest window at nothing in particular. ‘Have you seen what it’s like for ordinary people out there? You’re old and you were in the force before the trouble started. You already had your life laid out. Not me, I grew up in that shit. My folks worked every hour of the day to put food on the table. My dad died of pneumonia because there weren’t any antibiotics.

  ‘I hate the old movies and the books. Never read them. You know why, sir? Because they feed us a pack of lies. They make us think we’ve still got a civilisation here, that we’re still masters of the world. It’s just a pack of lies. We’re barely hanging on. Why did I become a copper? Because it was the only way I could get out of that shit. Police are privileged. We get more and better stuff. Even that crap they feed us in the cafeteria, better than the rest.

  ‘Look at Ellen Lomax, she doesn’t have a life. She has an existence. So don’t try to appeal to my judgement, or my better nature, or my conscience because I don’t have one. I do the best job I can that’s good enough to keep me here. That allows me to carry that warrant card, because I don’t want to live the life they have out there.’

  Mitchell looked at him. Yates was breathing heavily, and that was the longest speech Mitchell ever heard him make.

  ‘You finished?’

  Yates nodded.

  ‘I want you to do it because you’re the best copper I know.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘What are you planning?’

  ‘I’m just going to do my job.’

  ‘You’re still going after the girls?’

  ‘McCormack, seeing as how he had been set up so sweet and clean, was willing to divulge a little information. Most importantly, the girls are still alive, which means Purity and Utopia have spirited them away somewhere.’

  Yates shrugged. ‘But that place was their best option, wherever they put them now won’t be so well equipped.’

  ‘And that’s why I have to move quickly, before they get a chance to move them somewhere really secure.’

  ‘You still have to find them.’

  ‘I’m sure Lament can manage that.’ He took another drink of his tea. ‘And Chloe Dark was there.’