by Greg Curtis
Belatedly, and feeling guilty for having left it for so long, Katz crawled across the floor to where he lay and then tried to work out if he was alive or dead. But she couldn't tell. She tried to find a pulse but with all the noise outside and the shaking she couldn't tell. And when she tried to roll him over he was too heavy. In the end all she knew was that he wasn't moving and that there was a lot of blood soaking into the carpet. A dark red stain against the brown.
“Master Atkins!” She tried calling his name, slapping his cheek as best she could reach, and hoping that he would answer her. But he didn't. He just lay there, bleeding. No matter how many times she tried. Then she tried screaming some more, hoping someone would come. Someone who could help. But no one came. Quite probably no one heard her over the noise of the explosions.
Then someone did. At first she didn't know that he had. She couldn't hear or see anything except her school master. Then someone grabbed her arm.
“Help he's ...”
The words died on her lips as she looked up and realised the man was dressed from head to foot in black. He was one of the attackers. And he was strong. He pulled her roughly to her feet, his hand crushing her upper arm like a vice and then started dragging her to the door. And it was only then that she realised that she didn't want to go with him.
Katz pulled back hurriedly, trying to get away, but it did no good. He was far stronger than her. He was angrier too. When she tried again he punched her, his fist striking out so quickly that she saw nothing more than a blur before she felt the pain as it connected with her cheek. Unable to stop herself she screamed and he hit her again. This time she tasted blood in her mouth. Her vision was going too. It wasn't just the strange flashes of light coming from the battle outside that were making things weird. There were sparks and fireflies dancing inside her eyes and she felt faint.
But she didn’t want to go with the black clad man, and she tried to pull back again. This time he hit her hard. He knocked her back as though she was barely a punching bag and sent her crashing into a wall. After that things became strange.
There was more pulling, a man yelling at the top of his lungs, and more hitting, but for some reason she didn't really understand any of it. All she understood was that the room had started spinning in all directions and her legs weren't working properly. She sat down or fell down, she had no idea which. All she really knew was that suddenly she was staring at the ceiling.
Then the man hoisted her up in a fireman's lift and she was treated to the strange sight of the back of his legs as he raced down the hallway. A sight that for some reason made no sense to her at all. By the time they'd reached the stairs she couldn't even see it. She couldn't see anything at all as the world had gone black.
Light exploded. Brilliant light that burnt at her eyes. It was everywhere. And then she heard a voice. A voice that she knew well. It was Mark's voice. He was yelling at the man to put her down. But he didn't. Instead she heard the man carrying her scream with rage. Then she heard gun fire, shockingly loud. She heard Mark scream in pain. And then she felt herself falling off the man’s shoulder.
She screamed. Partly in terror at falling into the unknown. Partly in fear that her friend had been shot. But it was a short scream. It had to be. When she crashed into something hard and cold, the breath was driven from her and she couldn't make a sound. She couldn't even breathe. All she could do was panic.
But even that wasn't for long. Soon after the rest of the world slipped away into the darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
New York was quiet for once, and Garrick liked it that way. He actually liked New York at three in the morning, even when he was close to exhausted. But he liked it more that he had his quarry's scent so strongly in his nose. He hadn’t worked out exactly where Benedict was – not yet. That would take days or weeks, especially since Armando had apparently criss-crossed the entire city hundreds of times as he prepared for his robbery. The trail was confused, a complex tangle of scents going back and forth across one another until they became a knot. However while he couldn't readily untangle the knot, he still had enough of his prey’s scent to know where he'd been. Where in the city he'd spent a lot of his time recently. And each of those places was another spot where Garrick knew Armando Benedict's plans were currently being carried out. They were another place where his plans could be undone.
Garrick was doing his best to undo them. One by one.
“You sure this is the place?”
Maricia had doubts about some of the places he took her. This one was no exception. And he could understand why. The derelict fish packing house didn't look like much, and in truth it wasn't much. It could be described as a warehouse at best, but that would have been flattering it. And of course she wasn't getting out of the car to look around. He didn't need to to see Benedict's plans all around, which was fortunate as they had a lot of places to go and not much time.
“Yeah.”
As if to prove it Garrick reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his burner phone. It had been getting a lot of use in the last twenty four hours as he’d used it to call in his tips. In fact it was probably one of the best used phones in the city. Not bad for twenty bucks plus a card. Garrick slotted in the battery and strapped on the black market voice modulator he'd bought and dialled the police tip line.
“Tip Line, how can I help?”
The operator's voice came from the speaker on the very first ring, and Garrick was certain a part of that alertness the police had was due to him. They'd never had so many useful tips before. And while their caller ID might not tell them who he was, it still gave them the number. They would know that number by heart by now. Chances were it was at the top of their priority list.
“Just to let you know, the Dolen Brothers fish pack warehouse is being used as a front by Armando Benedict. Several armoured cars are being stripped back and prepared for a robbery there.”
Job done Garrick turned off the phone and pulled the battery to make sure. Not just to save power but to stop them being traced. Although the phone had no GPS system – it was too simple for that – even without it the phone could be traced simply by triangulating off cell phone towers, and he was sure that the police would be desperately trying to do just that. It was inevitable when they were being given so many tips from the one phone in a mere twenty four hours. He didn't want that to happen.
“They're rebuilding armoured cars in there?”
Maricia seemed surprised, and he supposed from her point of view it didn't seem likely. After all, it didn't look like a place where heavy industrial work would be carried out. But he was sure. He could see the planning that had gone into the operation as clear as day.
“Yeah. We should probably leave before the police arrive.”
Maricia seemed to agree as she turned the key and they drove off down the street. She had no wish to be stopped by the police. Actually she was probably even less pleased by the thought than he was, although as far as he knew she had nothing to hide. Of course, if Benedict was as well connected to the various government databases as she said, then they would both be in his sights the moment their names went into the system. It was best that that didn't happen.
“So what is his plan?”
“Wish I knew.”
And he did. What they'd seen so far was extraordinarily complex, and the armoured cars being rebuilt were just the tip of it. The crew he was assembling was astonishing – though hopefully most of them were already behind bars. The guys tunnelling into the various security and telecommunications infrastructures had had all the equipment they could ever need, and the various passwords too. The three safe houses they had set up for their crews seemed at least two too many and they were too well provisioned. They could hide twenty men from the police for six months if they had to. And then there were the explosives. So many tons of them.
“At a guess it's a robbery, but a big one. And gold not cash. Maybe the Federal Repository. I’d hazard a guess that the ex
plosives are to take down the various infrastructures after the event and stop Armando’s team from being tracked. The paint shop is for painting the gold bricks – to disguise them as something else, maybe actual bricks. And the computer guys have been brought in to hack into the system and then crash everything. A major stock market database crash, telecommunications failure, banking failure and major city catastrophe all at the same time and all in New York could trigger another global financial crisis.”
“So much these days is on line, and digital money is worthless if there are no computer records. If people also don't have the physical certificates for the shares they own or the money they have in the bank, they're vulnerable. My guess is he was planning to crash the entire world triggering another global economic meltdown.”
“Banks would topple, investment companies and insurance companies with them. Corporations would collapse in their wake. After that it's pensions, retirement savings, mortgages, mass unemployment, protests, riots and panic. And from there it's a short step to complete anarchy.” Anarchy which he presumed Benedict wanted.
The chaos he would leave in his wake wouldn't just cover his escape; it would let him go into hiding without any worry of being caught. Not for twenty years at least. And the man was already well into his late sixties. So while the world tipped into chaos he would sip cocktails by a pool in some foreign country and party. He wouldn't give a second thought for all those people whose lives he'd destroyed. Garrick also figured that Maricia was right; once he had done that he would release the information he had about the nephilim, the Choir and Diogenes. He would do it the moment he was safe in his new home. A bunch of religious wars on top of another global financial crisis. It would simply add to the confusion. She had been right to come to him when she had.
“That would make whatever gold he got away with even more valuable. Because gold would become the only secure currency. And he would finally have enough to buy himself a safe home for life in whatever cash strapped third world country he wants. A country without an extradition treaty.”
But it was worse than that. He didn't know what information Benedict had. But he did know what Benedict thought would be the effect of releasing it. And it was far worse than Maricia had said. Here Garrick wasn't just thinking of wars. He also expected that both the nephilim and Diogenes would be completely destroyed. Benedict's expectations were that there would be some sort of twenty first century witch hunt. That the nephilim would become public enemy number one and might well be exterminated. That Diogenes would be raided by the governments across the world who would want to control every scrap of information they had. It would be a means of maintaining control as the world slid into religious anarchy. No wonder even the Choir were worried. No wonder Cassie was stretching her rules to the limit.
Garrick had no doubt about Benedict releasing the information he had on the nephilim and the Choir. The latter might have hopes that the man would turn back to the light, but Garrick knew better. As he'd hunted him, little by little he'd gained a sense of the man. That too was in the spore he left behind. And what he now knew was that this was not only about the money. It never had been. This was about pride.
Benedict had been born a small boy in a rough area. He'd been born poor too. Everything in his entire life seemed to be about overcoming that. It was about being the biggest, the brightest and the best. And it was about proving that to the world, over and over again.
If it had only been about the money he could have retired long ago. But it wasn't. He had to pull off this robbery because it would be the biggest robbery ever committed in the history of the world. It would make his name. And then he had to release the information he had because with it his name would once more become famous. He would be the man who had single handedly destroyed the world. He would be feared as no one else. He would be remembered too. And he was reaching a point in his life where what he was remembered for was becoming important. Because sooner or later old age and ill health would force him to retire. All he would have left was his reputation.
So Garrick had absolutely no doubt that Benedict would release the information. And he would do it publicly and with as much razzmatazz as he could.
“But we've stopped it?” Maricia asked.
Garrick only wished he could tell her the answer she wanted to hear.
“Don't know but I don't think so. Not yet. We've damaged his plans, but I don't think we've stopped them. Benedict always has backups and contingencies. It's one reason he's never been caught. Even with everything we've done he might still have enough of his organisation left to carry out his plan.”
“Except for Katarinka?”
“Except for her,” Garrick agreed thankfully. The girl was the key to his plans, literally, and as long as he didn't have her they were safe. But sooner or later he would come for her.
“Left at the next lights.”
Garrick sensed their next target not that far away. A few miles perhaps. Another building of some sort that was part of Benedict's plan. Another building that was about to be reported to the police for investigation. And the sooner the better. Garrick was once more on the hunt and he could sense traces of his quarry’s spore ahead, this time a bit more fresh. And as always the scent of his quarry getting nearer always filled him with excitement. He only wished he was driving so that he could push the gas peddle down a little further than Maricia seemed willing to do.
It was going to be a long night.
The phone rang unexpectedly as they were driving towards their destination. Not one of the burner phones which had no battery just then and which Garrick had every intention of dumping when they were finished. His own personal phone. A call at three in the morning was unexpected and a frisson of apprehension grabbed him.
“Hello?”
“Garrick?”
Garrick recognised the headmistress' voice immediately. But he also recognised the sense of panic in it, and that worried him. She was not one to panic. And if she was calling him at three in the morning and panicking that could only be bad. “Patricia?”
“We've been attacked.”
Those three words sent shivers of alarm running down Garrick's back. It was a school. Who would attack a school? But even as he asked himself the question he knew the answer. Benedict. It had to be. Everything was about him lately. And as the headmistress came out with the rest of the sorry story he knew why.
The thief had done the unthinkable. He hadn't tried to sneak in and grab the girl as they'd expected. He'd organised an armed assault to get her back. Automatic weapons, shock grenades and actual explosives unleashed on a sleeping school by a team of assailants in body armour. It was if nothing else a reminder that Benedict was never one to stick to a single approach. He changed things up. And he had absolutely no conscience.
People were dead. One of the school masters and a student – both shot. Many more were injured, some seriously. Five attackers were also down. Not dead, but badly injured. Taken out by the nephilim using their particular gifts. One had been thrown off a building through a mystic push. Another had shot one of his companions and then himself after the headmistress had used the voice on him. The inside man kidnapping Katarinka had taken a nearly fatal fall down the stairs when one of the students had hit him with a blast of light, completely blinding him. And a fifth man had suffered a heart attack – those who healed could also cause injury.
But a sixth man had picked up Katarinka and escaped with her. Currently she was in the wind somewhere, while the entire school was locked down and police were everywhere. He could hear the sirens in the background and he was certain the press would not be far behind.
It was a disaster! And hearing it Garrick felt a sense of both disbelief and horror. This was his home! These were his people! And armed men had come in and killed them! And now the shit would hit the fan. The police would be everywhere and the chances of hiding their existence would be small. All it would take was one accidental revelation of a nephilim’s gift by a fri
ghtened child. Patricia was going to be busy. And he had no doubt the Choir would be there, making a pain of themselves. They had done nothing at all to stop the attack. But they would probably punish those frightened kids who had defended themselves with their gifts. Some days he just wanted to scream at them. And then there was Benedict, free and clear with the girl in tow. But how close was he to carrying out his robbery?
All of which left him with the reason Patricia had called, and it wasn't to tell him the news before he heard it over the radio. She wanted him to hunt down Katarinka. To find her and get her away from Armando. And of course he knew that he had to do it. The kid might be a giant pain in the arse, but she was a kid and she was one of his people. He would get her back no matter what.
But years as an agent told him that that would have to wait. You always had to think logically instead of rushing in and doing something stupid. First he had to finish what he was doing and destroy Benedict's plans. Once that was done the thief would be left without a robbery he could complete. Katarinka could open the doors he needed opened for him, but she couldn't drive trucks loaded with gold or smuggle it out of the country. She couldn't bribe customs agents or hire ships. All of which meant that he would have to start again. A new plan, a new target. And even for Armando that would take time. Time while he would have to keep Katarinka alive. Hopefully it would be enough time for Garrick to hunt him down.