Landfall (The Reach, Book 2)

by Mark R. Healy

  Van Asch shouted in surprise as she struck out, and that weight on her back rippled and shifted to one side. It was enough for her to wriggle out from underneath it. She got to her feet and ran, not for the far end of the concourse, but for the nearest corridor.

  She was dead if she stayed out in the open. She knew that with absolute certainty.

  Van Asch’s mind was coming at her again, crowding in from all sides like malignant, billowing smoke, threatening to suffocate her and smash her to the floor once again. She felt it crawling up her back, felt the claws of those hounds again, saw van Asch’s bloodshot eyes in her mind as he fought to overwhelm her.

  Then she was in the corridor and the smoke dropped away, now merely swishing around her ankles as she ran. Still it threatened to trip her and bring her down.

  Goddammit, this guy is powerful. He’s fucking monstrous.

  She ran for her life down the corridor, and already she could hear van Asch’s footsteps behind her as he gave pursuit.

  39

  The two Enforcers kept a firm grip on Duran as they led him out of the elevator and toward Prazor’s office. Mrs. Appleby edged backward behind her desk as she laid eyes on him, as if he might be a dangerous animal about to leap across the counter to tear out her throat. As they passed she stretched out a dainty finger to press a buzzer on the intercom. She whispered something into it, then glanced worriedly back at Duran.

  “You can go in,” she announced. “He’s ready for you.”

  They proceeded through the doors and into Prazor’s spacious office, where the Commissioner was pacing about in front of his desk. He glanced up as they entered, and as his eyes met Duran’s an inscrutable look came across his face.

  “Alec,” he said. “Thank god you turned yourself in.”

  “Not much else I could do,” Duran said coldly. “You basically put a price on my head.”

  “Rubbish,” Prazor scoffed. “I wanted you found for your own safety.”

  “We’ve searched him, Commissioner,” one of the Enforcers at Duran’s side said. “He’s not carrying.”

  “Good. Take those cuffs off him, then.”

  The two Enforcers looked at each other, bewildered. “Commissioner?”

  “You heard me.”

  “But Duran has–”

  “Good god, man. He’s not a maniac, he’s one of us! Take them off immediately.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to do your interview in a holding cell, Commissioner?” the Enforcer said as Duran’s cuffs were removed. “It would be safer–”

  “No, no. Here is fine.”

  “His behaviour has been pretty erratic, sir–”

  “I’m quite aware of his behaviour, Sergeant,” Prazor said. “Now step outside so I can talk to the man.” They hesitated, and Prazor raised his eyebrows. “Get out!” he cried, pointing imperiously. The two Enforcers dropped away from Duran, shocked at hearing the usually calm and collected Prazor raise his voice.

  As the door clicked shut, Duran turned back to see Prazor slowly walking past his desk, toward the tall bay windows that looked out to the west. The afternoon sun was at much the same angle as the last time he had been here, a few days prior, on the day that he’d pleaded with Prazor to give him more resources to go after Knile Oberend.

  That seemed like a thousand years ago now.

  “You’re taking a chance spending this quality time alone with me, aren’t you Commissioner?” Duran said.

  Prazor turned and gave him a good-humoured smirk.

  “I know you’re not a danger, Alec. I know perfectly well what you were doing up there in the Atrium.” He spread his hands wide. “You were after Oberend.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why you were shooting up the place. You were trying to bring him down.”

  “Yes,” Duran said again.

  Prazor grimaced. “Dammit, Alec, that was irresponsible. I don’t care how much you wanted that man dead, you can’t just march in there and do that. Not in the Atrium. Your hatred for Oberend has twisted your judgement.”

  “I’d do it again if I had the chance,” Duran said unapologetically.

  “And now you’ve caused me more headaches with the Consortium,” Prazor went on, pacing before the window. “They want your head on a pike, did you know? They want you strung up for this.”

  “Good for them.”

  “This is no laughing matter!” Prazor said indignantly. “The Consortium have condemned your actions and demanded you be harshly reprimanded, and quite frankly I’m in agreement with them.”

  “Did you tell them why I was there?”

  “No, of course not. There’s no way I could admit to being complicit in this personal war of yours. What would the Consortium say if they thought I’d sanctioned your presence in the Atrium, that I’d allowed you to take your weapon there and use it in the vicinity of the Crimson Shield?”

  “I’m not surprised you wouldn’t stand up for one of your own, Commissioner. Not in the least.”

  Prazor raised a withered finger at him. “That’s unfair, Alec. I tried to steer you away from this mistake and you ignored me. I can’t be blamed when you won’t follow my advice.”

  “With a couple more men I could have brought Oberend down before he even reached the Atrium. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

  “No. A couple more men would have not made the slightest difference and you know it. I knew from the start that this would end poorly for you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  Duran began to move toward Prazor’s desk, where he knew the Commissioner kept a ceremonial pistol in the third drawer down. He’d seen Prazor idly polishing it from time to time during conversations, and while Duran had no idea if it might be loaded, it was possibly the only tool he had at his disposal if he wanted to intimidate the old man.

  “You know everything, right, Commissioner?”

  “Drop that tone at once,” Prazor said crossly. He ran his eye across Duran’s clothing for the first time as he moved closer. “Where have you been, anyway? What happened to you after you left the Atrium?”

  Duran ran his finger along the edge of the oak desk as if inspecting it for dust. Prazor began to move back towards the desk as well, perhaps sensing something in his demeanour that he didn’t like.

  “I’ve been around the place. Making a few new friends, losing some old ones.”

  “The men reported that they found you down in Gaslight. What were you doing there?”

  “They didn’t find me. I walked up to them as they stood outside the elevators and handed myself in.”

  “What were you doing in Gaslight, Alec?” Prazor persisted sternly.

  “I’m curious about something,” Duran said in a whimsical tone of voice. “What were the recommendations that came out of the investigation into the explosion at the Atrium three years ago?”

  Prazor stopped, unsettled by the question.

  “You know the answer to that as well as I do.”

  “Is that so?” Duran drawled.

  “Yes. Why are you bringing this up now?”

  “You know why.”

  Prazor blanched, then stepped toward the intercom. In a flash Duran wrenched open the drawer and pulled out the pistol, a single-action revolver with pearl grips, and pointed it at Prazor’s head.

  The Commissioner froze. The gun was loaded after all, it seemed.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Alec–”

  “Shut up,” Duran hissed. “Sit down in the chair.” Duran lowered the gun as the Commissioner sat, hiding it from the view of anyone who might enter the room. He kept the muzzle directed at Prazor.

  “I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Prazor said gruffly.

  “No shit,” Duran said. “Now talk. Tell me why you did it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re–”

  Duran raised the revolver and cocked back the hammer.

  “Tell me why you sent me out into the slums after the explosion at the Atrium,” Dur
an fumed. “I want to know.”

  Prazor’s face reddened in anger. He glared up at Duran with watery eyes.

  “Because you disgraced me,” Prazor said. “You made a fool out of me.”

  “What? How?”

  “I was grooming you, Alec,” he said. “I watched your career from the beginning. You were the most promising new recruit I’d seen in a decade. I was preparing you with the intention of elevating you to the highest office we have. You were going to be the next commissioner.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s not bullshit. You were the brightest and best that came through the ranks in years. God’s own truth. I vouched for you among the upper echelons of the Enforcers, and even with the Consortium itself, told them that I wanted to initiate you with their administrators. I staked my reputation on you.” His mouth twisted sourly. “And then came the incident with Oberend. You were the lead on the case, Alec. It was yours to handle. And what came of it? Dozens dead, the Atrium attacked, half blown up–”

  “And the review of my handling of the case found that I did nothing wrong! So why did you punish me?”

  “Because you should have prevented it!” Prazor yelled. “You should have found a way! I trusted you, Alec, and you threw that trust back in my face. You can call me petty if you wish, but I needed to punish you for that. I needed you to pay for the embarrassment that you caused me.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Duran said, smiling sardonically. “You’re a bitter, prideful old man whose only concern is how he appears to others. You despise anyone who tarnishes that appearance.”

  “Alec, listen,” Prazor said in a more reasonable tone of voice, “let me–”

  “No,” Duran said, pushing the revolver forward until it pressed against Prazor’s forehead. “You destroyed me for your own personal gratification, and now I’m going to return the favour.”

  Prazor slowly closed his eyes, seemingly resigned to his fate.

  “There’s something you should know before you do that, Alec.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I was going to show you something.” He opened his eyes and glanced at the terminal on the desk. “Look.”

  Duran did as the old man suggested, noting a video feed paused in one corner of the screen. He recognised the location immediately – it was the Atrium.

  Then he saw himself in the centre of the image, frozen in time with his pistol raised. On the top corner he saw Oberend and the girl he had taken through the Stormgates.

  “Is this–?”

  “Yes,” Prazor said. “The footage from your latest encounter with Oberend several days ago.” The old man paused. “You might want to see what happens next.”

  Duran drew the revolver away from Prazor’s head and reached out a trembling hand toward the screen. He tapped once and the video began to play silently.

  “What am I–?”

  “Watch,” Prazor instructed.

  Duran saw himself discharging his .40, saw Oberend and the girl fall through the Stormgates untouched. Moments later the Redmen appeared, thundering through the gates with their pulse rifles sending incandescent rounds across the Atrium at Duran. Duran himself turned and began to run, disappearing from the frame a few seconds later. The Redmen too moved out of shot, and then there was nothing.

  “So what?” Duran said, straightening. “This tells me nothing.”

  “Skip ahead,” Prazor suggested.

  Duran complied, moving the feed forward three minutes before he saw the Redmen returning to their posts, rifles at their side.

  This is about the time I blacked out, I guess, Duran thought. Back when Zoe called Robson.

  The Redmen walked back through the Stormgates, then Duran began to skip ahead again.

  “What am I looking for?” he said, but then he stopped. A few minutes after the Redmen had disappeared, someone else came walking out through the Stormgates. Duran’s breath caught in his throat.

  He fumbled at the controls and paused the image.

  “Now you see,” Prazor said, satisfied.

  It was Knile Oberend.

  “The bastard came back,” Duran breathed, amazed. “But why?”

  “We don’t know, Alec. That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. You know him better than anyone else.”

  Duran shook his head, his eyes fixed on the pixelated image of Knile on the terminal.

  “I had no idea…”

  Beside him, Prazor got slowly to his feet, wincing and clutching at his back.

  “Wouldn’t you rather kill the man who truly ruined your life, Alec?” Prazor said.

  Duran stared at the Commissioner, considering the implications. The return of Oberend changed everything, he realised. Since Duran had been rescued from the Atrium he’d been oscillating aimlessly between the instructions of Scimitar and his own sense of self-pity, a course of action that had left him wanting in every respect. In truth, he had derived no satisfaction from killing Tunks, and he would probably have gained none by killing Prazor either.

  But Oberend, on the other hand… he was a quarry worth pursuing. He was a target that Duran could become invested in.

  Oberend was the cure for Duran’s malaise.

  “We need to stop him,” Prazor was saying. Duran glanced at him curiously. “You and I together.” Prazor held out his open palm expectantly, and Duran regarded the gun with some embarrassment. “Wouldn’t you say that, Alec?”

  “Yeah,” he said, placing the revolver in the old man’s hand. “We can do that.”

  Prazor smiled slightly as he took possession of the gun, hefting it in his hand as he felt the weight of it. He glanced up at Duran with a twinkle in his eye and gave him a little nod.

  Then he swung the revolver with surprising alacrity, catching Duran off guard and smashing the butt of the gun into his temple. Duran reeled backward, crashing to the floor, and the office began to spin around him.

  He tried to get up but only managed to stumble to the carpet again.

  Prazor said something into the intercom, then stalked over toward Duran as the doors to the office burst open.

  “You are a fool,” Prazor said coldly. “More of a fool than I ever imagined. Did you really think you could come in here and threaten my life? Threaten me? The temerity of it! And then you think you can just walk out of here with a handshake and a smile?”

  The Enforcers grabbed Duran and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet. Prazor looked at him with disgust, a sneer of contempt on his face, then stepped forward and swung his fist, smacking him solidly on the jaw and making Duran’s head rock to the side.

  “You’ve fallen, Alec,” Prazor said, wringing out his hand. “You’ve fallen so deep that even I can’t help you now.” He turned and dumped the revolver back on the desk with a clatter. “Take him to the Cellar,” he told the Enforcers. “Make sure all of the criminals he put there know that he’s on his way. I’m sure they’ll arrange something special for his arrival.”

  They dragged him across the carpet, and Duran stumbled and tried to gain his feet without much success.

  Outside the office, the elevator was waiting.

  40

  As the doors drew back, Knile saw the softly lit interior of the Consortium Infirmary and something inside of him broke. It was as if the great dam wall that had been holding back his fears and misgivings for the past few hours had finally been ripped asunder, releasing the pent-up tension that had been like a crushing weight within his chest, his head, and his arms as he’d dragged Roman across the city.

  Now, finally, salvation was within his reach.

  He gripped Roman’s limp form and lifted with one final weary pull, hauling the boy into his arms. Together they staggered out and Knile swiped through the perspex security door with Lazarus’ badge. Then they were through and into the foyer area of the Infirmary, where Knile paused to take stock.

  The foyer was bathed in a kind of muted light that was both soothing and somehow non-threatening, offering the impress
ion of a salubrious and calm place that was instantly appealing. The walls were spotless and curved at gentle angles to give the impression of a flowing, almost organic environment. Ahead of them, the cream vinyl floor led up to another of these curved walls, recessed into which was a reception desk. A neatly groomed young man sat therein. To Knile’s left was the only exception to the flawless decor – a gaping rent in the wall covered in clear plastic, behind which he could see a deep, dark void that seemed to lead to nowhere. There were construction signs on the walls and a barricade carrying a warning to keep out.

  Knile looked back at the reception. The man seemed to be busy with something in front of him and hadn’t noticed the new arrivals yet.

  Knile started moving forward, trying to anticipate any questions the man might have. Would he simply usher them through once he saw the badge? Or would he press for more information? Knile doubted the bullying tactics he had used on the Enforcers at the gates would be as effective here. In fact, they probably wouldn’t work at all.

  Knile was about to call for the man’s attention when a door in the wall opened outward seamlessly, its joins so perfect that they were practically invisible, and a young woman with blonde hair came walking briskly out, her attention focussed on a tablet in her hands. She had already gone past Knile and Roman before she seemed to notice that they were there. She stopped abruptly.

  “Good afternoon,” she began, taking a few steps forward. “What is the–?” She stopped again, concern on her face turning to surprise and then suspicion. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”

  “This boy has been poisoned,” Knile said quickly. “He’s dying. He needs help.”

  “I said what are you doing here?” the woman said. She looked edgy, as though she were ready to turn and run at the slightest hint of trouble.

  “Here,” Knile said, showing her the badge. “I have this.”

  “Where did you steal that from? Those badges are incredibly rare and only the most–”

  “It’s Brimstone,” Knile said, taking a halting step forward. “The poison, that’s what I was told it was called. I don’t think he has much time left.” Knile saw the woman’s name tag for the first time. It read Dr. Sullivan. “Please help him.”