Kymiera

by Steve Turnbull

  And then the young will be able to step into my shoes.

  The dim light in the car park showed the empty expanse delineated by white and yellow paint and punctuated by pillars. He kept moving at an angle to the gunfire, as much as he could figure out its source.

  No gunfire raked across his decrepit frame, although his ears were beginning to whistle a bit. He had experience of that and it was a relief his hearing might be returning.

  He made for the nearest pillar. He felt something move past the back of his head but no sound penetrated. It could have been nothing. He threw himself to the ground behind the concrete. Only to be showered by dust.

  That answered that question. Not only was there one out there but he was active. It also meant this pillar was a good place to be for the moment. At least until the shooter switched back to grenades.

  Mitchell squirmed to his feet. He would regret all this later, when the adrenaline wore off. Perhaps he would be saved from the pain, if he was dead.

  Dull thuds made it through the singing in his ears. More bullets? He wasn’t sure. If they were, he couldn’t see where they were impacting.

  He took a chance and poked his head out to the side. His one eye saw muzzle flashes and they were in movement. Arcing up and across. There was something skittering across the pipework suspended from the roof.

  Mitchell stepped out and fired round after round at the soldier. Each of his own shots was becoming more distinct as his ears recovered. He tried to aim for the head but even the shots that hit home made no impression. Soft armour was effective. His attack drew the man’s attention. Mitchell ducked back behind the pillar as the barrel of the weapon dropped toward him. But as he disappeared he saw something else moving. This time bounding across the floor, coming in at the soldier from behind.

  Mitchell paused and fired one last shot to keep the soldier’s attention on him.

  Automatic fire blasted his way as he pulled back.

  There was a scream. And a lot of growling. Someone gurgled as if they were taking their final breath through a throat that bubbled with their own blood.

  And then it became very quiet.

  Mitchell checked his gun and stepped out carefully. Dog was bending over a body. Mitchell approached slowly. Dog looked at him and growled. Mitchell made a point of pointing his gun away, clicking on the safety and putting the gun in its holster. Then he held his hands open and stopped a good twenty feet from Dog.

  Jason dropped from the pipes and landed silently. He paced towards Dog but at an angle that took him to a point a couple of yards away.

  ‘Are we good?’ said Mitchell keeping his empty hands in view. He glanced at Jason who shrugged. It was a human action with a face from a nightmare but even Mitchell was getting used to it.

  Dog was breathing heavily but seemed to be calming. There was blood across his face and on his hands. Something like a Viking bloodlust, Mitchell thought. Or a wolf. Like a werewolf that was always on the border of being the beast.

  ‘Are we good, Dog?’

  He was no more than a boy really, thought Mitchell, just like Jason and Chloe and those other girls. Children.

  Dog shook himself and stared down at the bloody body at his feet as if he had never seen it before.

  ‘Shit.’

  Mitchell took that as a sign he had recovered, and walked slowly up to him, but still not directly at him. Mitchell looked down at the body. The soft armour had been torn open at the neck and his skin ripped with it.

  ‘I think you got him,’ he said.

  The two freaks seemed relaxed now. He could probably trust their instincts and their senses. But he was surprised at Dog. In all the years he had been aware of his existence, Mitchell was sure Dog had never killed anyone. He was always the joker. This was completely different.

  Perhaps Dog had never been threatened like this before. Mitchell was grateful he had never managed to corner him. The outcome might not have been what either of them had expected.

  And now they had crossed a line. Even if using military grade munitions was certainly a crime he wouldn’t have known about it if he hadn’t been trespassing on Utopia’s grounds. Unfortunately the presence of these men raised a question: if Mercedes Smith had not known they were coming, how could there be an ambush?

  ‘All right. We need to move.’

  Dog dragged his eyes away from the body.

  ‘Jason, can you get the scent of the girls in here?’

  The boy moved swiftly. He returned to the central elevator area and, like a shadow, moved swiftly round it disappearing from sight.

  ‘Are you okay, Dog?’

  ‘Chloe’s right,’ he said. ‘I need to keep the animal inside.’

  ‘She’s not right,’ Mitchell said. ‘Sometimes letting the animal out is the right thing to do. If you hadn’t taken him down he could have killed us all.’

  ‘I can still taste his blood.’

  Mitchell pulled a flask from his coat. ‘I keep this for emergencies.’

  ‘You don’t get it,’ said Dog. ‘I can smell things a thousand times better than you. I can’t even begin to describe what that—’ he pointed down ‘—smells like, and what he tastes like. And the fact that I like it.’

  ‘This is just water,’ said Mitchell. ‘Wash your mouth out at least.’

  Dog took it just as Jason came back. He was pointing back the way he came.

  ‘He’s got them,’ said Dog then took a mouthful, swilled it round and spat it out.

  Jason was gone again and they followed.

  ‘Only one thing,’ said Dog.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘We might be able to find the lift they went into but how are we going to find the right floor?’

  ‘I’m relying on you two,’ said Mitchell.

  Chapter 27

  Ria MacDonald

  She slipped on the ice as she crossed the roof and came down heavily on her knees as she tried to save the detector from hitting too hard.

  Crap.

  What the hell was she doing? She could be lying in bed at home with something warm between her legs, preferably Harry but there were other options, including Mr Pointy. Rather than get to her feet, and run the risk of falling again, she decided to crawl. Looking back she could see Harry sitting with his gun ready. She moved a little more to the left and put the protruding air vent between her and the door. She really did not want to get shot.

  The air was freezing and her condensed breath hung in the air as it turned into ice crystals. The huge bulk of the Utopia Genetics building rose up ahead of her.

  If they got through this alive she was going to have to let him down easy. He was great in bed but he was getting too attached and that was not something she wanted. This was not a world to get attached to people. They died one way or another, and she was always the one to pick up the pieces. In some cases literally.

  Maybe she could persuade him that it was his idea. That would be best.

  Of course he’d hate himself, but Harry would get over it. As soon as he realised how upset he was he’d recognise it was because he was forming too strong an attachment. And that would kick him out of it.

  He wasn’t stupid. At least not too stupid, for a male.

  She reached the edge of the roof where a low wall rose up. She put the detector on it. There wasn’t a lot of light but the thing looked pretty simple. It resembled a gun but had a plate-sized detector. Behind that, along the barrel, was an exciter section that would take the collected image and amplify it. The section after that was simply the hand grips. The secondary unit carried the graphene power supply, and a monitor.

  The process of plugging in the cables was easy. The on-switch was obvious but it came on with a yellow warning light. The monitor flickered and its system started to boot up.

  A crash echoed across the roof. Metal hitting metal. She jerked her head round but couldn’t see the door.

  For god’s sake, Harry, I don’t want to die!

  She was happy
putting bits of people in bags. That was her kind of level. They didn’t argue, they were just a puzzle. A broken pen top could provide the solution to an entire case if she studied it carefully. Broken pen tops didn’t try to kill you. She could sit in the warmth of her office and study the bits and pieces that were not trying to end her.

  Harry could keep his bloody field work.

  The monitor pinged quietly and told her the detector was still preparing.

  Preparing? What the hell did that mean?

  The yellow light still shone on the detector gun.

  Five shots in rapid succession, slightly muffled. They must have come from the stairwell. Probably trying to shoot out the lock or something. That was stupid. It never worked.

  Green light. Yes.

  Shadowy lines appeared on the monitor. She squinted and could not make out what they were. When she picked up the detector gun, the lines on the screen moved. Edges, they were the edges of flat surfaces with a slightly different temperature. She pointed the gun at the building. The screen flared for a moment and then adjusted. She could see the blocky shapes of the various floors as they spiralled up.

  She aimed at the base of the building and there were multiple temperature variations that resolved into a representation of the outside of the building. Hotter pipes and conduits showed up in yellows, oranges and reds. As she continued to point it in one direction, the image resolved into a three-dimensional approximation of the rooms on this side. It was a nice bit of tech, and she was impressed.

  The image smudged and blurred as she ran the detector up the building’s side. The floors above fifth were colder and the image faded to greys and blacks. All she had to do was scan slowly until she found something warmer and then let the machine focus.

  An explosion rocked the roof and she was thrown forwards across the wall as something let out a crash to her side. She grabbed the detector convulsively as it threatened to go over the edge.

  ‘Harry!’

  ‘Still here love.’

  She got herself back on to the roof with her back to the wall, cradling the detector in her arms. She could now see the door. It had been ripped off its hinges and was lying against the wall.

  ‘They blew the bloody door off.’

  ‘I guessed.’

  She still couldn’t see the opening from where she was sitting. The vent and Harry were in the way. There was a crunch. For a moment she thought it was someone’s foot but there was nothing else. Smoke poured from whatever they had thrown.

  ‘Smoke grenade,’ she said.

  ‘Doesn’t make a lot of difference to me,’ he said.

  ‘Or me,’ she muttered and pulled up her knees. She placed the detector in them to hold it steady then brought the monitor round and dumped it in her lap. Maybe they had infra-red goggles but mostly they used ultra-violet because heat was not as clear as UV. They would be blind too but would count on their superior fire-power and armour.

  But they didn’t have a detector like this one.

  The image was resolving. The air-vent. Then the hot spot that was Harry. The software inside this thing was clever, the detector itself must be collecting a lot more data than just what was coming from the front.

  The hot points where they had blown out the hinges glowed as the rest of the stairwell came into view. Their explosion had heated different parts to different levels of heat making the detector’s task so much easier.

  It might not be as responsive as UV but it would do the job.

  ‘How much do you trust me, Harry?’

  ‘Quite a lot.’

  ‘Do exactly what I say and we’ve got a chance.’

  ‘Okay.’ He used the tone of voice that meant he was dubious. He always hated being blindfolded and that always made it more fun. This time he had no choice.

  ‘It’s just a blindfold, Harry.’

  Moment’s pause. ‘Okay.’ That was more confident.

  She kept her eyes glued to the monitor.

  ‘Raise the gun, Harry, be ready.’

  The monitor showed him obeying. It was just like a video game.

  The amount of delay meant the monitor was resolving through the roof as well. She could see the stairs themselves and a human-shaped heat source lying down. Another on its feet.

  ‘You got one of them, Harry, there’s only one other.’

  ‘Roger.’

  The figure put his foot on the lower step. Ria glanced into the real world and said in the quietest voice she thought would actually reach him, ‘The smoke is thick, Harry, he can’t see anything either.’

  ‘He’ll be in soft armour.’

  ‘I know.’

  Harry put the gun down.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Shooting won’t work.’

  He climbed to his feet. The figure inside the stairwell was making steady progress.

  ‘Tell me when he’s at the top of the stairs, Ria.’

  She wanted to tell him to pick up his gun and not be an idiot. But she knew he was right.

  Waiting until the man was a few steps down. ‘Now Harry, don’t run, I’ll guide you.’

  He stepped forward quickly. ‘Left a bit, bit more, straight.’

  The soldier was on the penultimate step.

  ‘Now, Harry.’

  The image blurred as he lunged forward, his arms outstretched, screaming in an effort to distract the soldier. The bodies impacted and she could hear their thudding fall. She took a deep breath and turned back to the Utopia Genetics building. She had to make this worthwhile.

  Chapter 28

  Chloe

  There were sounds in here. The heat in the pipes made them click. Pumps in the distance pounded but the clicks were pitched just right for her. As she moved slowly forward, along the walkway among the pipes, power lines and conduits she was able to pick up a picture of what was around her.

  The rooms, corridors and other spaces mapped out in her head. All inanimate, not a single person among them as far as she could see.

  And the space above her, the penthouse, continued to be an enigma. It was thoroughly insulated and sound-proofed; she could see nothing but the floor above her.

  She stopped and leaned against the railing. Cocking her head on one side she closed her eyes, trying to see as far as she could.

  On the lower levels, the outside walls were insulated, but inside the construction was flimsy. Perhaps it was as much to reduce the overall weight as to save money; either way, down four or five floors was an open book to her.

  Then she heard a cry. At the very edge of her hearing, something plaintive as if it was hurting. She glanced up again, to where she imagined Mercedes Smith might be. She knew her friend was here. Seeing the look on that woman’s face was less important.

  There was a way through below. She jumped over the edge and landed on a pipe ten feet below. A few steps across to another gap and down again. It was a tedious business and there was the occasional difficult squeeze. But she dropped through five floors in a couple of minutes.

  There had been no further sound. It was colder down here, as if they weren’t giving it much heat, and the pipes were quieter. She tapped. The reverberation refreshed the map in her head and filled in more details at this level. At first she was not even sure this was the right floor but then a door shut and she watched the form of someone exiting a room and heading along the corridor.

  She was sure, as she had been climbing, that the floors were empty.

  This must be the one.

  There was a similar walkway from an outside door. This one was misplaced as well but a new one had not been cut at a lower level. She jumped across to it and headed in towards the core. The thinness of the walls meant there was no gap she could use to get further into the building. There was only the maintenance hatch at the end which opened easily enough.

  She stepped out into the interior.

  There was no sound, but a dim blue light showed the plain uncarpeted floors and the unadorned walls. The place
smelled unused—slightly damp.

  ‘Hello, Chloe.’

  She spun round but there was no one. The sound had come from above and she saw the speaker set into the ceiling. It did not look like a recent addition.

  ‘Please stay exactly where you are.’

  It wasn’t coming from just one speaker. There were several. She inched back towards the hatch.

  ‘I said don’t move.’

  A piercing sound screeched from the speakers. She slammed her hands over her ears but it did nothing. She felt her balance going and she fell to her knees.

  The sound stopped leaving only a buzzing and a dull ache.

  ‘I found your kryptonite,’ said the voice. ‘An excellent analysis even if I do say so myself. Mercedes will be pleased.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Xec. I was the one that found you. I was the one who arranged for your pick-up.’

  ‘Like Melinda.’

  ‘Yes, just like her,’ he said. ‘But you have been quite a problem. Now here we are at last, and I have succeeded.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘That you were here? I’ve been monitoring you and your little band since you left your aunt’s house.’

  Chloe wondered why Lament’s plan had not worked. Well, he had not promised, it had just seemed like a clever idea.

  ‘What’s happened to them?’

  ‘Your band of heroes? I must admit I was very surprised at their tenacity, and to see Mitchell and Yates still trying to solve their case. Quite touching really.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid DS Yates is no more, while DI Mitchell is trapped in the elevator. Not that he had any clue what he was doing. I’m still very impressed they both managed to deal with two fully equipped soldiers. One wonders if they might have freak blood themselves.’

  Chloe frowned. There seemed to be something wrong with Xec’s assessment of the situation; for a start she had no idea Yates was involved. Perhaps Lament had pulled him in at the last moment.

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’

  ‘I admit that both Mercedes and Purity Officer Graham are very keen to see you dead. Mercedes was quite apoplectic when she found out you had survived.’

  ‘I would have liked to have seen that.’