by Taylor Leon
‘We’re on with the background checks anyway,’ I said. ‘Richard Hall worked as a floor manager at a local express supermarket. No problems in the last five years as far as we know.’
‘Anything on the boy?’
‘He’s never been in any trouble,’ I said.
The handsome fair haired teenager on the board smiled back at me. My God, I wanted to reach into the picture, grab him and warn him.
You think you’ve got your whole life in front of you. But that’s all an illusion. A big fat lie.
That innocent happy smile.
That’s Toby. That’s Rachel. That’s me.
Fourteen years ago.
I felt a compelling urge to get home. Pull out that last family photo. Will myself to go back in time and tell everyone to get out of the house.
Get out, and stay out.
Run.
Edward Cryle is coming.
Run, run, run.
‘Erin?’
Cade and Arnie were both staring at me.
I felt myself flush red. Were they waiting for me to answer a question I hadn’t heard?
Arnie gave me a concerned glance out of the corner of his eye, and then a knowing look back at Cade. Blink, and I might have missed it, but right then I realised that they had discussed me before today.
I looked across the top right of the board. Six photos all taken from police files. All the NID members that had been jailed, their names printed underneath.
Daniel Small. Joe Sampson. Dave Fenton. George Hilton. Sam Spencer. Jack Ellis.
‘We’re getting updates on all of them in the morning,’ Cade said from behind me.
‘What about any that are still out there on the streets?’ I asked. ‘We’ve still got eyes and ears on them, haven’t we?’
‘We’ve had nothing on anyone for the last five years,’ Arnie said. ‘After all the arrests were made, the powers-that-be decided the NID was a spent force and diverted the monies elsewhere.’
‘How spent did you think it was?’
‘Richard Kane’s information meant we got the foot soldiers,’ Arnie sighed. ‘But the guys at the top, the planners, those giving the orders-’
‘Got away scot free,’ I cut-across.
‘And one of them, Anthony Norris is even running for election in a few weeks’ time,’ Cade added.
Arnie turned to Cade. ‘Look, maybe I can help. I was involved with some of those NID faces from back when. Get them in for questioning and I’ll join you.’
As soon as Arnie had left us, Cade came right up close to me, checking there was no one within earshot. ‘Erin?’
I turned to face him and saw genuine concern. It was in his eyes. It’s always in the eyes.
‘Are you ok? You seem a little distracted this afternoon.’
That’s what they used to tell me at school.
She can’t concentrate for more than fifteen minutes at a time.
Erin’s mind wanders.
Erin has trouble staying focussed.
‘First day as my partner,’ I said. ‘And you’re already psycho-analysing me?’ I deliberately turned my back on him to face the board. ‘Two options on the table then,’ I continued. ‘Scott is the target and his father comes to help him. Or Richard is the target and Scott is used to flush him out. If it’s the latter, then we probably are looking at the NID.’
I could feel Cade staring at the back of my neck, trying to figure me out.
Yeah, good luck with that.
‘I didn’t mean to offend,’ he said in a low voice.
Maybe he did, probably he didn’t. Either way the fact that he and Arnie had discussed me behind my back, pissed me off.
‘Forget it,’ I said, without looking at him. ‘Let’s just get the interviews lined up.’
6
BELLA WAS IN the ring beating the crap out of our trainer, when I got to the gym in the early evening. Our private gym occupied the basement of an office block in Camden, North London that had been bought out by The Coven several years ago.
Both Bella and Ben were padded up. He was down on one knee holding his chest, she was standing triumphantly over him with her arms raised.
He climbed unsteadily to his feet, keeping a wary eye on his adversary and staggered towards the side. Frankie, waiting just outside the ropes, reached out and beckoned him to her. I suspect there had been something between those two once upon a time. There wasn’t enough electricity to suggest they were in a middle of a torrid affair anymore, but there was just enough to tell me they had a confidence in one another that only very close friends or once upon a time lovers have.
‘Bella!’ Frankie snapped.
Bella dropped her arms. ‘What?’ she grunted through the mouth guard.
Ben fell against the ropes, his head nestled in the crook of Frankie’s neck and shoulder.
‘Lesson over,’ he muttered breathlessly.
Bella shrugged and beckoned me over to the far side. I reached up and took her mouth guard out, then started unwinding the tape from around her gloves.
‘We need to get us a new trainer,’ she whispered. Her perfectly toned body usually gleamed with sweat after a strenuous workout, but today it was drought-dry.
I leaned back and looked over to the far side where Frankie was holding a bottle of water for Ben to drink through a straw. She caught my eye and shrugged.
‘Just try not to break this one Bella,’ I whispered to her.
‘No point practising on some pussy.’
‘This isn’t an ordinary gym Bella. We can’t just pull people in off the street.’
‘Well, we gotta do better than this.’
‘We need people we can trust.’
‘But he can’t box.’
‘I manage with him. So do the others.’
‘Whoop-eee-doo. That don’t help me.’
I pulled both her gloves off and dropped them on the floor.
There was a loud ding on the far-side of the gym as the lift door opened and Jessie rolled out in her wheelchair.
‘Hey Jess,’ I called.
Ben sounding as broken as he looked, croaked, ‘I’m out of here.’
He knew the deal. He was well paid for training us as far as he could, and for taking a battering from Bella once in a while. But Jessie’s arrival was always his cue to get out, no questions asked.
Frankie guided him gently though the ropes. She’d already removed his gloves and headgear. He dropped them into a small sports bag, and walked slowly towards the lift that would take him back up to the ground level and out.
‘Next week, same time,’ he murmured over his shoulder.
Out of his vision, Bella sighed and shook her head.
We waited a couple of minutes until he’d left.
Bella climbed out of the ring. ‘I’m telling you guys we gotta get someone else in.’
‘Not now,’ Frankie said.
Jessie rolled past us to a door on the far side. Reaching up, she typed in the six-digit code onto the keypad and the door slid open.
The office inside was like a modern supped up bat cave. A small open plan area with a kitchenette in the corner. Wires ran across the ceiling and down to a couple of computer ports. There was no natural light in here, just unsatisfactory fluorescent lighting. But it was hidden away and safe, and that was what mattered.
This was Jessie’s empire. This was where she watched over us. We passed her main computer and her bank of screens, her usual diet coke and a half empty box of chocolates within reach.
This was where she spent most of her time. She was the brains behind what we did. When someone was selected for damnation, she put together a complete biography of that person. All his emails, his bank accounts, phone calls, family, friends. Everything. Usually a month’s movement was monitored using CCTV cameras and then Frankie tailed them. If you are going to make someone disappear then you need to ensure every base is covered.
There was another door on the far side and another required code whi
ch Jessie typed in. Then she rolled into a dimly lit room, and we followed.
In the centre of the floor was a large chalk circle and within that a five-pointed star, with a tall violet candle on each point.
Frankie had a small box of matches and went around lighting the wicks, as we each got into position behind one of the candles. I dropped down and crossed my legs, whispering the initial prayer, waving my hands slowly back and forth over the flame before resting them on my knees
Frankie checked the door was closed then flipped the lights off, before getting into position herself.
‘Erin, you can lead today,’ Jessie said.
‘No Moira?’ I asked.
‘She’s on the school run,’ Jessie said. ‘But she’ll join us later.’
Like Frankie and Bella, her eyes closed, and her breathing became deep and gentle, her pale freckled face relaxed and serene in the soft glow of the candle light.
Before we could begin we needed to completely empty our thoughts. It used to take ages for me to do that when I first joined the Coven, sometimes as long as an hour. Now after months of practise I’d got it down to several minutes.
I closed my eyes and pictured a grey rubber ball, focussing hard on it, letting whatever thoughts were swimming around in my head come to the fore. Not thinking about them, but just passively watching them like I was sitting in a cinema.
Sampson lying in bed asleep next to me.
My Father sitting on my bed when I was a little girl, wiping my tears.
John Cade outside the station looking into the middle distance.
The picture of Richard Kane on the white-board.
The picture of Scott Kane on the white-board.
My mind continued with this collage of images and sounds, running and chasing each other inside my head, until they eventually exhausted themselves and faded away. Finally, there was just the grey rubber ball again, waiting silently like a mystical black monolith.
Then even that disappeared, leaving a wall of nothingness.
I was ready now. Now time had no meaning. I was on a different plane; a place of absolute peace and clarity.
The room was soundproofed, so my whisper was all the others could hear.
‘O mighty Lords, lift my spirit….’ I started the ritual chant, and then one by one the others joined me.
Initially the ground vibrated gently beneath us, like a train rolling through the English country-side on a lazy summer’s Sunday afternoon. Then, when I stopped chanting it was as though I’d taken the rollercoaster to its peak and it was now ready to charge downhill under its own momentum. The sensations intensified, wave after wave of euphoria passed through me, rushes of ecstasy that I didn’t want to end.
A Calling could last a few minutes or a couple of hours. Once we’d started the ritual it was out of our hands. The spirits would dance around us for as long as they wanted, and we had no option but to obey them. This was all part of our circular arrangement. We called them up like this so they could sprinkle their magic dust over us, enabling us with practise and time to develop powers which we later used to carry out damnations; sending bad souls downstairs for these same spirits to feed on.
Unlike the girls, I was a novice with only basic powers; Callings, Damnations and very basic Mirror-Talk. It was a question of finding the time around my day-job to develop others like the girls had.
At the end of a Calling, the sensations would stop abruptly when the spirits tired, got bored or went back down to take care of other business. I didn’t pretend to understand how that worked. But for us, it was like regaining consciousness as we slowly came out of our trance. We would inevitably find ourselves sprawled out across the floor in positions we couldn’t remember getting into. Breathless, but satiated and relaxed, it was like the warm glow after sex.
I pulled myself up into a sitting position opposite Frankie and Bella. Post-Calling was the only time I ever saw Bella not looking at the peak of physical condition. For a short time afterwards, although still beautiful, she looked beat like the rest of us.
Jessie sat slumped in her wheelchair smiling down at me as if to say, ‘That was great.’
I looked at my watch and saw the Calling tonight had lasted around just over half an hour. That was about average.
‘We need to head upstairs,’ Frankie breathed after a few more minutes of silent contemplation. ‘Victoria is waiting for us.’
Ah yes, Victoria. The Leader of the Coven. Beautiful, strong and ruthless. If she had called us upstairs for a meeting, then it could only mean one thing.
We were being assigned the next damnation.
7
GEORGE HILTON SAT across from the three of us, his hands cuffed on the table. He had short spiky grey hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. His eyes were a bright blue and were fixed on me even as he addressed Arnie. I was trying hard to concentrate after another restless night’s sleep and bad dreams.
‘What do you want?’ Hilton sneered loudly, bringing me out of my reverie. I glanced around the bare interview room. For someone who had been spending most of his time in a six by four cell, this room was almost home from home for him.
Arnie smiled politely. ‘Richard Kane was killed yesterday.’
‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ he said. ‘Like I said, what do you want?’
‘We’d like to know who killed him,’ Arnie said.
‘Is that it? Good luck.’ He laughed and started to get up. The prison officer, who stood rigidly against the wall behind him, took a small pace forward.
Arnie motioned for him to stay where he was.
‘Have you heard about any NID veterans out for revenge?’ Cade said.
Hilton rolled his eyes. ‘I hear lots of things.’
‘Such as?’
He didn’t answer.
‘You want to deal?’ Cade asked.
‘No.’
‘That would be a mistake.’
Hilton dropped back into his chair and gave Cade a hard look across the table.
‘Is that a threat?’ He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.
‘Life can be hard inside,’ Cade said.
Hilton laughed. ‘Like you’d know.’
He turned to Arnie. ‘If I don’t play, are you going to do me over like you did Higgins?’
Arnie kept his eyes fixed on George Hilton. ‘Is that what they say happened?’ he asked calmly.
‘The guy who stabbed him somehow managed to smuggle a piece of broken glass into his cell.’ Hilton said. ‘He’d never attacked anyone like that before and he’d never had any falling out with Higgins. His name was Winfred Allen, and he was your snitch.’
Arnie smiled. ‘We have lots of snitches, George. Besides what would we have gained by hurting Higgins?’
‘Revenge for that paki friend of yours Higgins put in hospital.’
‘Paki?’ I asked.
He turned to me. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ He looked back at Arnie. ‘I’m not interested in anything you have to say.’
‘Behave George,’ Arnie said remaining calm. ‘We’re not done yet.’
‘You’re not. I am.’ He stood up. ‘You know I’m glad Richard Kane was killed,’ he snarled. ‘That bastard stitched us up. And I hope the NID is going to take action and finish the job me and Mark started.’
He glanced at me. ‘NID!’ he shouted. ‘NID! NID! NID!’
‘Get him out of here,’ Arnie said.
The prison officer gripped Hilton’s arms and guided him out the door.
‘YOU WANT MY HELP? HA! WELL, FUCK YOU! NID! NID!’ George Hilton’s voice echoed down the corridor.
‘It was a long shot,’ Arnie said, once we couldn’t hear Hilton’s yelling anymore.
‘Is there anyone else we can talk to from the NID?’ I asked.
‘Not inside,’ Arnie said. ‘The others were released, and they won’t talk even if we can find them.’
‘We could try talking to Anthony Norris,’ I suggested.
Arni
e gave Cade a look as if to say, why is she even suggesting something like that?
‘What do you think you’ll get from him?’ Arnie asked me.
‘Well, he did allegedly used to lead the NID.’
Cade leaped to my defence. ‘Erin has a point. It may be worth giving it a go.’
Arnie shook his head. ‘It can’t happen.’ He looked at us both and then sighed. ‘Look, I know what he is, but he is untouchable.’
‘Who says?’ I asked.
‘Upstairs says.’
‘Why are we protecting someone like that?’ Cade asked.
‘Ours not to reason why,’ Arnie said apologetically. ‘Believe me when I tell you that I like it a lot less than you do. Remember, I was part of the team that brought these NID bastards down.’
He looked down at his watch.
‘Damn, I’m late for a meeting,’ he muttered under his breath, then looked back up at us both. ‘We have to find another way.’
He marched out and left us in there.
‘So, what next?’ I asked.
‘We go back through all the files,’ Cade sighed.
‘You know we should interview Anthony Norris.’
‘You heard Arnie. We have to stay away.’
He motioned for me to follow him out the room.
‘I think that’s a mistake,’ I told him.
‘And I think you’re right,’ Cade replied
8
WE HAD TAKEN over the back room of our favourite watering hole, “The Queen’s Head”, for Lloyd Tanner’s retirement party.
The drinks were flowing by the time I arrived, and I could see Lloyd on the far side, surrounded by a lot of the old boys that had come up through the ranks with him. Arnie was there, dressed impeccably as ever, one arm draped around Lloyd’s shoulder as they shared anecdotes to great chorus’ of laughter from those around them.
Those two had been partners several years ago, before Arnie got promoted to DCI. Lloyd would have been promoted too, but his wife’s death from cancer crushed him, and he had struggled at work for some time after. That was the main reason he had chosen to take early retirement at fifty-seven. Also, so he could spend more time with his teenage daughter, Angel.