Erebos

by Ursula Poznanski

  They’d hardly got up there before Rashid blocked their way. ‘Stop. This doesn’t concern you.’

  At least he wasn’t holding a gun. It was a spray can that he was aiming at them. Pepper spray.

  Rashid’s hand was shaking, and his voice was, too. ‘Stop, I said. I don’t want to hurt you. Stop . . . or better still, go back, then no-one will get hurt.’

  When Emily answered, her voice was completely calm. ‘You don’t have to do this, Rashid. You can go down these stairs and out onto the street. No-one will do anything to you. Not us, not the messenger, not any of the other players. I promise you.’

  Rashid’s face twitched. ‘Be quiet. You’ve got no idea. Now clear off.’

  Emily tried a new approach. ‘If you hurry, you’ll be gone before the police arrive. They’ll be here soon, I’m afraid, and then you could be in serious trouble.’

  Rashid’s finger moved on the spray nozzle. Nick pulled Emily back.

  We’re not threatening you,’ Nick said quickly. ‘Exactly the opposite. We’re helping you. Run away!’

  ‘But . . . then . . .’

  ‘But then you’ll be kicked out of the game? To be honest, I don’t think the game will exist after today.’

  The hand with the pepper spray sank by an inch or so. ‘The messenger would kill me.’

  ‘Do you see a messenger anywhere here? An orc? A troll? This is the real world, Rashid, and you will really go to prison for aiding and abetting a real murder!’

  Rashid let his arm drop limply to his side. Nick thought about jumping Rashid and grabbing the pepper spray from him – but it probably wasn’t necessary.

  ‘You’re not going to dob me in?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘No. Absolutely not.’

  He threw them one last frightened look, and started down the stairs, slowly at first, and then faster and faster.

  ‘Rashid!’ Nick called after him. ‘How many are left?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Rashid called back. ‘The two guards outside may be gone already. The five from the Inner Circle are definitely in there.’

  After that they heard only the sound of heavy steps, as though he was taking the stairs two at a time.

  ‘Five people and a few guns,’ Victor groaned. ‘We should at least have taken the pepper spray away from that fellow.’

  Privately Nick agreed, but it was too late now. They pushed open the heavy glass door that separated the stairwell from the offices. There was a reception desk, but no receptionist. There was no-one walking around in the corridors, and all the office doors were closed.

  ‘How come no-one’s here?’

  They snuck along the first corridor and cautiously opened a door. There were two work spaces in there, but no people. The next room? No-one. Nick opened one door after the other, terrified each time that he’d find a pile of bodies behind it.

  ‘Have they all got the day off?’ Victor asked.

  ‘I hear something down there,’ Adrian said. He pointed to the end of the corridor, at a wooden door with brass fittings that was quite different from the modern style of the rest of the offices.

  They listened carefully, and there was actually something: a dull thud and a muffled voice shouting.

  ‘Okay, now we know where they are, at least,’ Victor observed. ‘Do we go in? Or do we call the cops?’

  Nick made a quick decision. ‘Adrian, you go into one of the offices and call the police. We’ll hold our position here.’

  After a moment’s hesitation Adrian did what Nick had said. Emily, Victor and Nick grouped themselves around the wooden door.

  ‘Or we could go in and rely on the element of surprise,’ Victor suggested.

  Nick shook his head. ‘I don’t think I want to surprise anyone with a gun in their hand.’ He pressed an ear against the door; he heard voices, but couldn’t understand what they were saying.

  ‘I wish we’d asked Rashid who the people in the Inner Circle are,’ Emily said, ‘then we could get a better idea —’

  In the middle of Emily’s sentence the door flew open and a figure dressed in black burst out. He was wearing a mask over his face – the contorted white face with a gaping mouth from the film Scream.

  ‘I’ll get water,’ the mask-wearer called, and stopped abruptly when he spotted Nick, Emily and Victor. ‘There are . . . people here! Oh shit, where have they come from?’ He turned on his heel and ran back through the open door.

  ‘Stay calm,’ Nick called frantically.

  Oh God, this was going seriously wrong. There were one . . . two . . . no, three masked figures with guns. He was looking straight into the muzzles of two of them. A fourth guy with a devil’s mask was doubled up on the floor, groaning. That was Colin, no doubt about it. There was a baseball bat beside him, and it looked very much as though he’d been on the receiving end of a few blows from it. There must have been a fight; two of the windowpanes were cracked. The fifth person, the one who’d been going to fetch water, didn’t seem to have a weapon, but that was cold comfort.

  ‘Dunmore,’ a dark voice behind a skull mask said. ‘You frigging arsehole.’

  Nick fell back a step. He knew the voice, just as he knew her whole massive appearance. Helen. She had her weapon pointed directly at Andrew Ortolan, who was sitting pale-faced on his swivel chair, his bound wrists resting on the desk. There were two women and three men lying on the floor with their hands bound behind their backs. One woman was crying softly.

  Now Ortolan also looked over to the door. ‘So who have we here? Reinforcement?’ It sounded contemptuous. Nick noted a bloody wound on his forehead.

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ Helen barked at him. ‘And do what I say, or I’ll shoot you in the leg!’

  The leg was currently located behind the desk, making it a less than ideal target. Ortolan smiled tolerantly.

  Don’t underestimate her, Nick thought. She will shoot. She’s crazy.

  ‘Perhaps you should do what she asks,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘You shut your mouth, too!’ Helen bellowed. ‘And will someone kindly fetch some water. Now!’

  The Scream bloke ran off again, pushed past Nick through the door and down the corridor. Hopefully Adrian was smart enough to hide.

  Apart from the woman’s sobbing everything was quiet. Sweat ran down the back of Nick’s neck. Colin, behind his devil’s mask, was groaning. The person kneeling next to him was a girl; her Gollum face couldn’t conceal that fact. ‘I think he’s a bit better now,’ she said.

  The last of the gang was very tall and stocky, with fat fingers. He was wearing an alien mask, and didn’t look familiar to Nick. What he was holding in his hands looked like a sawn-off shotgun. Despite that, it was Helen who seemed to be pulling the strings. She, more than any other, was the one they had to negotiate with.

  Nick noticed she was wearing something around her neck: the symbol of the Inner Circle, red with the tip pointing into the centre. She was the only one wearing it; Nick suspected that she had made it herself out of thick wire.

  Scream came back with the water. He passed the glass to the girl kneeling on the floor without saying a word. So he hadn’t seen Adrian.

  Colin turned away from Nick, Emily and Victor and lifted up the devil’s mask. He half sat up, took a few sips of water and coughed. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes. Better.’

  ‘Good. So, let’s continue. Stand up, Ortolan.’

  He really didn’t want to; they could see that. Nick was finding it hard to figure out whether he was scared or not. On both the occasions Nick had watched him, he had seemed more afraid. He must have sensed that trouble was brewing around him. But it hadn’t been tangible. Now it’s happened, and he’s relaxed.

  ‘You will pay for your deeds,’ Helen said. That was obviously her supplied text. ‘For your greed, for your ruthlessness, your lies.’

  At a gesture from Helen the thickset alien jumped forwards and flung one of the windows open. Outside was Bridewell Place. And the top plank of the scaffol
ding.

  Ortolan got the message. ‘I would say I have already paid,’ he said hastily, ‘even though I’m neither greedy nor ruthless nor a liar. You know full well all the things you’ve done to me. It’s enough, do you hear?’

  Presumably Ortolan, like Nick, would have given a lot to be able to see the reactions on the faces of the masked figures.

  ‘Climb out the window,’ Helen said. Her gun was pointed at Ortolan. Her voice wasn’t shaking, neither was her hand.

  ‘Listen,’ Victor said. ‘We don’t know each other, and what I’m going to say will sound hackneyed, but you’re all making a big mistake. What good will it do you if the man falls out of the window? You’ll go to prison! Leave him in peace, go home!’

  The Gollum girl spoke for the first time. ‘Are you a friend of his? An accomplice?’

  ‘Rubbish, I don’t even know the guy,’ Victor yelled. ‘But I know Erebos. And I swear to you that Erebos has taken you all for a ride. Whatever the messenger promised you for . . . this, you won’t get it. Forget it. Leave.’

  ‘We’ve got everything so far,’ the Scream mask said. ‘Every single time. So don’t talk about things you don’t understand.’

  ‘Exactly,’ the fat alien added. ‘You’re all nothings. We are the Inner Circle. So get yourself out of that window, Ortolan.’

  Now the fear in the man’s eyes was unmistakable.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to shoot,’ said Helen. She lifted the gun and fired; the bullet narrowly missed him and lodged in the wall.

  ‘All right!’ Ortolan bellowed. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll do it, okay? Don’t shoot again.’

  The woman on the floor was crying more loudly now; hopefully she wouldn’t make any of the Inner Circle nervous. Nick was dizzy with nerves. Somebody was bound to have heard the shot and would turn up soon to find out what was going on – and that could make everything even worse.

  Andrew Ortolan climbed onto the windowsill. The window was tall, but he was taller, and had to duck down in order to fit through. With his hands bound he was finding it hard to hold on. He looked back pleadingly into the office.

  ‘Further,’ said Helen.

  ‘No, please.’

  She lifted her gun again, and the alien followed suit. ‘It wouldn’t have to be a perfect shot; a graze would do for take-off,’ he bawled.

  Ortolan was standing on the windowsill; he climbed up, left leg first, onto the somewhat higher plank of the scaffold.

  Climb across it and then down, Nick thought. That would work. He’d reach the street in one piece if he kept his nerve.

  But Ortolan’s legs were shaking. He was clinging to the window frame with his hands; Nick could tell that he knew exactly what he needed to do. Change his grip, grab hold of the metal scaffolding pole. But it seemed he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  ‘No calling for help, otherwise something will go bang,’ the alien said.

  Ortolan’s bound hands scrabbled for the pole like a crab’s pincers. It was torture to watch him crawling across onto the scaffold with a chalk-white face and cramped limbs.

  At the moment when he’d made it and was kneeling somewhat less precariously on his plank, Nick heard a sound behind him. Adrian had rejoined them.

  The sight of him triggered a series of reactions.

  ‘You?’ Ortolan panted, and nearly lost his hold.

  Helen, obviously equally surprised, lowered her weapon briefly. ‘What are you doing here?’ she barked at him. ‘Clear off.’

  ‘You’re going to let him go?’ Colin asked behind his devil’s mask. ‘Have you gone crazy?’

  The gun swung round to him. ‘Quiet. He’s off limits.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘The messenger. Who do you think?’

  If they started to fight, Nick would take the chance, and run for it with Emily, Adrian and Victor.

  ‘Did you call the police?’ he whispered in Adrian’s direction. He didn’t get an answer. Adrian’s attention was entirely focussed on the man on the scaffolding.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Ortolan.’

  At the sight of Adrian, Ortolan had clutched the pole even tighter. ‘Are you behind all this?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’ Adrian walked up to the window and looked down. ‘It’s a long way down.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’ For a moment Ortolan’s rage won out. ‘Tell these masked losers that they should let me back in.’

  ‘Why would they listen to me?’

  ‘Because you’ve got something to do with it. Don’t treat me like an idiot. I only have to look at what the girl has around her neck, and it’s obvious!’

  Adrian turned to Helen, saw what Ortolan meant and walked up to her without hesitation. He reached for the symbol of the Inner Circle and studied it. ‘Why are you wearing this?’

  ‘Clear off, you don’t understand!’ Adrian’s proximity was making it difficult for her to keep Ortolan in her sights.

  ‘You made that yourself, didn’t you? But why?’

  ‘Because I’m in the Inner Circle and that’s its symbol.’ She pushed Adrian aside; it was a gesture that was almost apologetic, but at the same time had enough force to send him reeling backwards through the room. Emily caught him before he fell.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘it’s the logo of Vay Too Far. My father’s company.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Ortolan said. The word ended in a shout, because a gust of wind was buffeting the scaffolding and making the brackets rattle.

  The wind also carried a sound. Sirens. Was it police cars? Quite possibly, and they were coming closer. Ortolan’s face showed relief. ‘Jump,’ said Helen.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I said, “Jump”.’

  She moved closer to the window, lifted the gun and pointed the muzzle at Ortolan’s chest. ‘Jump or I’ll shoot you.’

  The sirens came closer; the alien and the Gollum girl exchanged frantic looks.

  ‘We should get out of here,’ the girl said. ‘Someone’s called the police. Let’s go, people, quick!’

  ‘Jump now, you arsehole,’ said Helen behind her skull mask.

  The image burned itself indelibly into Nick’s memory. As if death itself had spoken.

  ‘Your friends are right; the police are on the way.’ Fear was forcing Ortolan’s voice higher. ‘They’re going to catch you committing a murder, do you understand? If you shoot, you’re a murderer. You’ll go to prison for the rest of your life.’ He couldn’t take his eyes off the gun. Helen was standing so close to him that if she squeezed the trigger she’d certainly hit him and he would certainly fall – dead or alive. He was talking for his life.

  The effect of his words on one of the five mask-wearers was obvious. The Scream guy edged closer and closer to the door, and then raced off. The alien and the Gollum girl looked as though they’d like to follow him. They only had the two groups – those standing and those lying on the floor – covered half-heartedly.

  Victor must have noticed. ‘Just go,’ he encouraged both of them. ‘And you know what? I’ll tell you a secret: The game is over. It won’t matter in the slightest what you do; the messenger won’t reward you. But the courts will punish you. Erebos is all over, it’s —’ ‘Shut your gob, you don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Helen screamed. Her gun was pointed at Victor for a few seconds, until she remembered her actual orders and got Ortolan back in her sights. ‘Jump!’ she bellowed, and took another step towards him. For a moment it looked as though he was going to obey her. He looked down, as if he was trying to estimate the height, or his chances of reaching solid ground by climbing. Then Adrian put himself between Helen and the window.

  Victor and Nick jumped forwards at the same time, and checked themselves at almost the same time, too. Helen had to remain calm, she simply must not shoot.

  ‘Move away, Adrian,’ Nick said.

  Adrian didn’t budge. Helen was getting nervous; she was leaning from one side to the other so she could get a better aim at
Ortolan again. But she didn’t lower her gun.

  ‘You’re not going to shoot Adrian, are you?’ Nick asked. ‘None of this insanity is his fault.’ A siren interrupted him.

  Gollum and the alien bolted as if they’d only realised this minute how serious the situation was.

  ‘No,’ Colin screamed after them. ‘Don’t leave me here! Take me with you, you cowardly bastards!’ He tried to stand, screamed with pain and collapsed back onto the floor. The devil’s mask slipped, revealing his dark skin.

  ‘Mr Ortolan,’ Adrian said. ‘Tell everyone here how you tried to steal Elysium from my father. If you don’t, I will step aside.’

  ‘Why doesn’t someone take the gun away from the nutter?’ Ortolan shouted. ‘It can’t be that difficult!’

  Tyres squealed in front of the building. Blue lights flickered on the wall of the building opposite.

  ‘I’m up here!’ screeched Ortolan. ‘Here! Help!’

  He turned back to the open window. ‘That’s enough, I’m coming back in. Enough of this madness!’

  Adrian stepped aside just as he’d threatened; Helen’s gun-muzzle was aimed directly at Ortolan’s head.

  ‘No! Please!’ He ducked on the scaffolding, started to sway, cried out and steadied himself again.

  ‘Say it,’ Adrian repeated.

  ‘What for? No court in the world would allow it. I’m being threatened!’

  ‘That’s not what matters to me. Say it. We both know it’s true.’

  There was a commotion in front of the building. Someone called orders in a commanding tone, car doors slammed. The trussed-up office workers moved restlessly. Nick prayed that none of them would lose their nerve; Helen’s patience seemed to be exhausted.

  Sweat was dripping out from under her skull mask and down her neck. Nick could feel her mounting rage as if it were his own.

  Adrian had moved in front of Ortolan again, and faced him.

  ‘Your father was a bloody genius,’ Ortolan cried, ‘with no idea about business. We could have set the industry on fire, but he had to do everything by himself.’