Archangel (A Ghosts of London Novel)

by Amy Cross

  “I am Subject A. What is your name?”

  She paused, wondering why the voice had to ask since it was already inside her mind. “Katie,” she said cautiously. “My... My name's Katie.”

  “Are you not a subject?”

  “I'm...” She paused again, remembering something she'd heard Doctor Leach say a few moments earlier. “I think I'm subject D.”

  “How wonderful. Subject C was here just a short time ago. I thought I would have to wait a lot longer before I had company again.”

  “Who are you?” she asked for a third time. “How are you getting into my head?”

  “I can reach out from the darkness.”

  “What darkness?”

  “I am Subject A.”

  “You already said that, but I don't know what it means!”

  “I was the original,” the voice explained. “I was created on the first day.”

  “So you're...” She paused, trying to make sense of everything. “So you're another angel?”

  “I have never seen my physical form. If I ever possessed such a thing, it is long since lost.”

  “I thought all the angels were failures,” she replied. “That's what they said, I even saw the ones that went wrong!”

  “I know nothing of such things,” the voice continued. “I only know that sometimes I can connect to other minds, minds that are outside my room. Other times, I have to wait for people to come and visit. It's so dark in here, but I can't imagine what it's like to go beyond the door. Sometimes, though, I see flashes of images, and I find myself wondering if they come from the life I used to leave.”

  “Damn it, Robinson,” she thought, “where the hell are you?”

  “Who is Robinson?”

  “A friend.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Someone who -” She paused, realizing that there was something strangely childlike about the voice, as if there were areas where it possessed vast knowledge but also areas where it was unusually blank. “Someone who got me into this mess,” she added finally, “and who, if he knows what's good for him, is going to come and help me get out of it fast!”

  ***

  “I've never really been a big fan of guns,” Robinson muttered, holding up the pistol and admiring it for a moment. “There's something so blunt about them, so... bulletty... You know what? I think maybe it's bullets I don't like. Guns are quite beautiful.”

  Feeling a nudge against his elbow, he turned and saw that Quix was holding a machine gun.

  “Ah,” he said after a moment.

  Slamming the car-boot down, Quix took a step back and began to inspect her weapon, checking that it was working properly. Turning, Robinson looked across the deserted car park and felt a cold shiver pass through his body for a moment. He knew something was wrong, something even more wrong than usual, but he couldn't put his finger on it, although it almost felt as if...

  “The graves,” he whispered finally. “Someone has been to the graves.” He turned to Quix. “Where's the laptop?”

  As soon as she nodded toward the car, Robinson ran around to the side and pulled one of the doors open, before diving inside and grabbing the laptop from the back seat. Opening the lid, he frantically launched a couple of programs, and then he waited as the latest data downloaded. As soon as the files were ready, he set them to play, and a moment later he watched grainy black-and-white footage from the cemetery, showing Milhouse approaching one of the graves.

  “Bugger,” he muttered.

  As the video continued, he saw Milhouse looking at some of the other graves and then generally wandering around, taking photos and looking decidedly confused.

  “Double bugger,” he said quietly, and then a moment later. “Triple bugger.”

  Hearing a knock on the roof, he looked out the window and saw Quix gesturing for him to get out of the car.

  “In a minute!” he shouted, still watching the video, which now showed Milhouse taking close-up photos of the various graves while occasionally taking notes. “Oh, what are you doing that for?” he whined. “Go away, you infuriating man! Stop poking your nose into other people's business! This is nothing to do with you!” As Robinson watched the screen, Milhouse knelt at one of the graves, causing Robinson to sigh and lean his head back. Closing his eyes, he paused for a moment, trying in vain to slip into a moment of meditative calm.

  “It's all closing in again,” he whispered. “It's happening too fast...”

  Seconds later, Quix banged on the roof again.

  “Wait!” he shouted, trying to calm his mind. He listened to the sounds of the city – the passing buses, the planes flying overhead, the constant stream of traffic – and he picked them apart so he could isolate and then ignore them one by one, until he was left with only the faint, rhythmic beating of his own heart.

  And then silence.

  Focusing, he forced his heart to stop, so that even that sound couldn't interrupt him.

  “This is a mess,” he whispered. “I can't undo it, the only solution is another...”

  Silence again.

  No thoughts entered his mind, but despite that, his brain was churning.

  Finally he opened his eyes and allowed his heart to beat again.

  “In for a penny,” he muttered, opening the door and climbing back out of the car, “in for a pound. Quix, I'm declaring a Code Red.”

  Looking up from the machine gun, she was clearly shocked.

  “It's been a good run,” he continued, “but these things have to happen from time to time. Thirty-one years, that's far from the shortest one, eh? And it'll be good to start again. I trust you'll be sticking with me?”

  She paused for a moment, before nodding.

  “It won't be easy,” he added. “I liked that office we'd built up. I told dumb old Wagoner that it wasn't my real office and, well, I wish that was the truth. I really do need to set up a distraction office some time, so that I can switch more easily. Still, that's something to consider for the future. Perhaps I finally need to embrace -”

  Sighing, Quix tapped her watch.

  “Oh, right,” Robinson replied, staring down at the pistol as she held it out for him. “Do I really need that?”

  Grabbing his hand, she forced his fingers around the weapon.

  “I'm not saying I'll fire it,” he told her, “but I'll certainly hang onto it. If nothing else, I can always wave it around, can't I?”

  Rolling her eyes, Quix slammed the boot down and took a step back. From the look on her face, it was clear that she was ready, although there was a faint hint of doubt – maybe even fear – in her eyes, and she seemed determined to keep moving so that she wouldn't have to stop and think too much about what was happening. In a way, her approach was the opposite of meditation.

  “When we get in there,” Robinson continued, “your first job must be to find Katie. Leave the rest, whatever it might be, to me. I have a vague idea as to what those people are up to, but I still need to get down into the details. They've got hold of Harrington Cole's records somehow and they're trying to recreate the experiments he carried out in the nineteenth century. God knows why, but I suppose some people just can't leave well enough alone and -”

  Again, Quix tapped her watch.

  “No time for a speech?” Robinson asked forlornly.

  She shook her head.

  “Not even a short one, puffing us up for battle?”

  Again, she shook her head.

  “Fine,” he sighed. “I'm delaying, aren't I? We should probably get going.”

  Slinging the machine gun over her shoulder, Quix turned and followed him across the car-park.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Find him,” Wagoner said as he stood in the doorway, looking down at the hole in the interview room's floor. “I don't care where he is, I don't care who he's with... Find him!”

  Down in the basement, several officers were looking through the wreckage.

  “And when you've located him,” Wagoner co
ntinued, with increasing grit in his voice, “I am personally going to lead the team that goes and gets that son of a bitch. Dead or alive!”

  ***

  “Welcome to Harrington Cole,” the receptionist said, looking up from her computer screen, “how may I -”

  Stopping suddenly, she saw that the barrel of a machine gun was aimed straight at her face.

  “Excuse my friend,” Robinson said, leaning around from behind Quix, “but if there's one thing she likes more than carrying a big gun, it's firing one. Personally I think she's trying to compensate for something, although -” Feeling Quix nudging him in the ribs, he stepped over to the desk. “Here's the thing,” he continued. “I don't think they pay you enough to deal with what's about to go down in this place. What are you on, minimum wage?”

  “What?”

  “Your pay! What are you paid for this job?”

  “Twelve-fifty an hour,” the startled woman replied.

  “So slightly above minimum. Still, you don't want to be dealing with this kind of thing, do you?” He waited for a reply, before reaching over and tapping the barrel of the gun.

  “No,” the woman said, shaking her head. “Are you... Are you terrorists?”

  “No, we're not. However, we're here on business that needn't concern you, so I think the best thing would be for you to just run out the door as fast as possible.”

  The woman stared at him, open-mouthed and horrified.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “For what?”

  “To run,” he replied wearily. “Count of three, okay? One... Two...”

  He paused, purely for effect.

  The woman swallowed hard.

  “Three.”

  Scrambling to her feet, the woman raced around the desk and headed to the door.

  “I think you should fire that thing a few times,” Robinson said, turning to Quix, “just to scare the workers and make sure they -”

  Without waiting for him to finish, Quix turned and raised the gun, before pulling the trigger and firing at the ceiling. Making her way across the foyer, she continued to fire, blowing chunks from the ceiling and finally bringing down most of the light fittings, as terrified people emerged from nearby rooms and then raced for the exit. Stopping in the middle of the foyer, Quix kept her finger on the trigger for a moment before finally stopping and turning to Robinson, just as part of the air conditioning unit came crashing down by the door.

  “Excellent work,” Robinson said, rushing past and leading her to the elevators. “Remember, you have to find Katie, that's your job. The rest, leave up to me.” He pressed a Call button on the panel, before feeling Quix's hand on his shoulder. Turning to her, he could see that she was worried. “It's going to be fine,” he continued. “I told you before, this type of thing happens every so often, it's like a kind of reset. Besides, Milhouse has already found the graves. He's an idiot, but he'll put it all together eventually.” He took a deep breath. “It's so much easier planning a strategy when you don't have to worry about getting out the other side.”

  As soon as the door slid open, he stepped inside and Quix followed. He hit a button for the top floor and then waited as the door slid shut again and the chamber began to rise. In the background, a muzak version of Lady Gaga was playing softly.

  “I told you from the start,” Robinson said after a moment, “that I've been around for a while. I wasn't lying. I remember this city before the Romans came, for God's sake. I remember Caer Lud, the original fortress. Old Lud was a dour man by the end, it's hard to believe that he ended up lending his name to one of the most vibrant and important cities in the modern world, but there you go. History has a sense of irony sometimes. Personally, I think they should have named the place Robinsonia or Robinsontown, something like that. As recognition of the fact that I -”

  Before he could finish, the chamber came to a halt and the door slid open, revealing one of the corridors on the top floor.

  “Sorry,” Robinson continued, stepping out, “sometimes I get nostalgic. The old days were much -”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Turning, he saw a white-coated lab technician standing at the other end of the corridor.

  “Get into the elevator,” Robinson said, as Quix aimed her machine gun at the man, who instead raced off in the other direction. “Some people just won't be helped,” Robinson muttered, leading Quix along the corridor. “There's a security door we'll have to get through,” he explained, “and I'm not sure how well-secured it might be, so -”

  Pulling her coat open, Quix revealed a set of small magnetic mines hanging from the lining.

  “I suppose those might be useful,” Robinson replied, with a worried frown. “Remind me to never get on your bad side again.” As they rounded the next corner, he spotted the security door up ahead, with no sign of anyone nearby to act as a guard. “Get your limpet mines ready, or whatever they are. I need to send an important message to Milhouse.”

  Reaching the door, Quix took a moment to examine its construction before opening her coat and selecting the appropriate device. She tapped the door a couple of times, trying to determine the perfect points of attack.

  “Come on,” Robinson muttered as he wrote a text message to Milhouse, “this is important.” Hitting Send, he turned to Quix. “I've sent him a few messages since we left the station but he hasn't replied yet, I hope he's not mad at me. I really need one final favor from him, otherwise this whole thing could go very wrong. Still, I'm sure he'll pull through. Old Milhouse is a reliable chap, and there's -”

  Grabbing his arm, Quix pulled him back suddenly, forcing him along the corridor.

  “What's wrong?” he asked, looking around. “I don't see -”

  Nudging his arm, she held up the control switch for the mine.

  “Oh,” he replied, “right, yes. Is that a detonator? Would it be okay if you let me be the one to -”

  As soon as she pressed the button, the far end of the corridor was blasted apart by a large explosion that sent pieces of wood and metal flying through the air.

  “You're good at that,” Robinson continued, as they headed back toward the door, where smoke and dust still swirled through the air. “I don't suppose,” he added, “that we really need to knock now, do we?”

  Pushing a section of twisted metal aside, Quix stepped through the broken door, while aiming the machine gun straight ahead. Her eyes watched the smoke for any hint of movement, and her senses were poised for even the slightest vibration, but the only sign of life so far was the sound of people coughing in the distance, followed a moment later by a few confused shouts.

  “I bet they weren't expecting this,” Robinson muttered, following her through.

  Staying ahead of him, Quix made her way along the corridor. As the smoke began to clear, she saw a door up ahead and immediately raised her gun toward the ceiling, firing a couple of short bursts as a warning. By the time she reached the door, she looked through just in time to see a few white-coated technicians running for their lives, leaving the main laboratory unguarded.

  “Wow,” Robinson said as he reached the doorway, “it's just as my imaging software suggested. I need to go and take a look further along the corridor, Quix, but your priority has to be finding Katie, do you understand? Whatever else happens, you have to get her out of here, it's important. She's not like us, she can't go floating through these things without getting damaged, and I've become rather attached to her. I want her to make it out of this!”

  She nodded.

  “Something's very wrong here,” Robinson added, hurrying away. “I feel as if I'm missing something important. I don't get how these idiots came to possess Harrington Cole's technology.”

  Stepping forward, Quix looked up and saw a small room at the top of a set of metal stairs, with a couple of horrified faces staring out through the windows. Ignoring them for the moment, she made her way over to the edge of the large vat and looked down, only to see a figure several meters below t
he surface of the gel, seemingly attached to some sort of scaffold.

  After a moment, Quix's eyes opened wide as she realized she'd found Katie.

  “Stop!” a voice shouted from the top of the metal stairs. “My name is Suzanne Leach and I am in charge of this facility. I demand to know -”

  Not letting the woman finish, Quix turned and aimed the machine gun, giving Doctor Leach just enough time to dive back into the observation room. Opening fire, Quix sprayed the entire staircase with bullets before aiming at the booth itself, shattering the windows and causing everyone inside to duck for cover. Letting go of the trigger, she slung the gun over her shoulder before taking a grenade from her pocket and removing the pin, and then tossing the device toward the stairs. The resulting explosion brought the entire metal stair-rail crashing down, stranding Doctor Leach and the other technicians in the observation unit.

  Dropping the gun, Quix climbed over the edge of the vat and began to wade through the gel. Reaching Katie, she ducked down beneath the surface, forcing her way through the thick, viscous liquid until she was able to get close to Katie and examine the restraints holding her wrists to the scaffold. As she searched through her coat for a hunting knife, Quix glanced at Katie's face and saw that she seemed to be unconscious, although a series of small bubbles were gathering on her lips and occasionally starting to rise. Checking her pulse, Quix realized she was definitely alive, as if somehow she was able to breathe through the gel.

  Taking a deep breath, she found that she too was able to somehow absorb oxygen.

  With the hunting knife in her hand, she began to cut at the restraints, finally freeing Katie's wrists before turning her attention to her ankles. Once the last of the restraints had been torn loose, she put an arm around Katie's bare waist and began to lift her up, finally getting her to the surface of the gel and hauling her out of the vat.

  As soon as she was in the open air again, Katie opened her eyes and let out a gasp, struggling for breath as she pushed Quix away and then stumbled forward, clambering over the edge of the vat and finally dropping down onto the metal floor.