The Gated Trilogy

by Matt Drabble

  The big man was fiercely loyal and never asked questions. His blank expression could turn cruel in a flash when the occasion called for it and it often did.

  As they walked, Tolanson tried to quiet the churning thoughts that raged through his mind. There were flashes of past existences, a holy pilgrimage and the building of a settlement with the foundations laid in blood and sacrifice.

  There were also future glimpses of a modern town that had burned to the ground as hubris had taken poisonous root and fuelled his ego. There were moments of sheer blackness when he’d barely existed at all before being reborn as a child again. This life had seen him once again almost lose, but he’d somehow battled to a draw.

  If Eden had been his birth then Ravenhill had almost been his grave. The power that Michael and Emily had found had been passed to Sarah-Jane, and had been meant to thwart his plans. He had miscalculated the power that opposed the darkness, thinking that the light was long dead and turned to dust. But the light had burned brightly in those who stood against him but this time it would be different, it had to be.

  The anger threatened to overwhelm him again and the urge to lash out and destroy almost drowned him.

  He gripped onto McDere’s shoulder, digging his fingers deeply into the man’s flesh but his aide did not flinch. There was so much power to be seized if only he could master his own self-control. Too many times he had underestimated his enemies and deep down he knew that the gods would not spare him again. This life was all he had left and if he failed them again then his torment would be eternal.

  Eventually they made it back to the dorm room and Tolanson lay back in the bed as he slowed his breathing until his chest barely rose at all.

  McDere settled into the chair by the side of the bed and split his gaze between the still boy on the bed and the door. He would wait as long as it took for his master to recover. Sometimes it took a few minutes, sometimes it could take days, but he would wake strong and replenished and always with a plan.

  ----------

  William spent a couple of hours digging through dusty files from the large number of cabinets that the university’s principal kept in his office. There were plenty of juicy facts about some of his classmates: some were in therapy, some were struggling with depression or classes, and one was even wetting the bed, but nothing related to Tolanson.

  He slammed the filing cabinet door shut with a loud metallic bang. He had hoped to find something to use against his nemesis but it was like the man hadn’t even existed before Dunderline.

  The office was cold and he shivered as the creeping damp seeped into his bones. Maybe the fact that he couldn’t find any mention of pre-Dunderline Tolanson was of use to begin with. His brain started to muse around the problem. He wasn’t without financial resources; his father had given him a credit card with a generous limit for emergencies and this surely counted. He could hire a private detective to dig up some dirt on his rival. The guy was obviously hiding his past and that meant there was dirt to hide.

  The future started to look a little brighter as he made plans. His father ran a large marketing company and they often used dirty tricks to smear their rivals. They were bound to have trustworthy investigators on file.

  He was deciding on which of his father’s employees would be best to make contact with when the large looming shadow fell over him. He turned in shock to see two figures blocking the doorway and his heart sank more at the sight of the small one than the towering one.

  “William, William, William,” Tolanson said, shaking his head with regret.

  “I wasn’t doing anything,” William responded as his blood ran cold though he knew no reason why. Tolanson was just a student at the university; he held no authority, and yet somehow he did.

  Tolanson strode into the office and wandered over to the window behind the desk. He paused theatrically as he looked out into the night while McDere’s large frame blocked the exit.

  “This is a sad state of affairs indeed,” Tolanson continued. “I had hoped to forge an alliance with you, William. Your family has wealth and influence, resources which I could have used. It’s a pity that it had to come to this.”

  “I didn’t find anything,” William blurted out; deep down he knew that there was no point in lying.

  Tolanson turned and stared at him hard. He could feel the man’s eyes burning into his flesh and beyond, digging deeper and deeper until they touched his very soul.

  “No, you didn’t,” Tolanson responded thoughtfully. “But you were looking.”

  “I can still help you. I can still be of use!” William found himself begging.

  “Oh, of that I’m sure.” Tolanson smiled. “I have lived a long time, my friend, a long time indeed, but such a life comes at a cost. My mind isn’t quite as sharp as it once was. I get… confused.”

  William looked at the other young man and - for the briefest of moments - there was a frailty to him, an almost dimming of his presence and in that moment he was just a kid or maybe even a tired old man.

  William stepped forward to offer assistance. Tolanson looked momentarily like he was about to collapse but McDere’s powerful hand suddenly clamped down painfully on his shoulder. William found himself twisted around and a hard fist powered into his gut, knocking the wind from him. He sank to his knees and suddenly Tolanson was standing over him, all lights set to full beam again.

  “I can help you!” William pleaded.

  “You certainly will,” Tolanson said with a small smile before nodding to McDere behind.

  William suddenly found himself hoisted to his feet and something rough slipped over his head and tightened around his neck. The rope was coarse and dug into his soft skin as McDere threw the other end up over an exposed beam.

  “I have certain needs,” Tolanson said amenably as he watched on. “Certain bills need to be paid in order for me to continue my work, young William, and that’s where you can help me.”

  William found himself yanked off his feet as the noose slipped ever tighter until breathing became short and painful. His feet were dangling in midair now as McDere hoisted him higher. He clawed at the rope but to no avail as the noose bit deeply.

  “Every man, no matter how powerful, has a master and I am no exception, but fret not, my friend. Your sacrifice is much appreciated and well received. Even my father… well, he was not technically my father but he kept the job for a while… he made the same sacrifice as you’re about to make. He turned on me at the end, can you believe that? After everything I’d given him he tried to stop me. Some people, eh? Oh, I could name a bench on campus after you; how about that?”

  But William was already gone. McDere tied the rope off and left the young man swaying gently from his apparent suicide.

  “Will they believe this?” McDere asked, his voice low and gruff as though it didn’t get much use.

  “They will believe anything that I tell them, my friend,” Tolanson replied, his own voice stronger now as he closed his eyes and let his reward wash over him. “They are pleased with my offering,” he said as he opened them again. “Come, we have much work to do. Our glory lies ahead and it’s waiting for us.”

  They left the room together, leaving William creaking on the beam behind.

  “Running in the Student President election has given me a taste for the political arena,” Tolanson mused. “I wonder how far I could go.”

  CHAPTER 3

  WORKING 9-9

  Victor Michaels checked over his shoulder for the thousandth time. His heart was beating way too fast in his chest and he wasn’t a young man anymore, or a fit one either.

  He was a stooped five-foot-eleven with a widening girth that caused him to wheeze when ascending steep stairs. His hair had thinned to the point of barren and his soft brown eyes were permanently glazed behind thick glasses.

  His footsteps echoed on the deserted cobbled street as he moved quickly away from his car. He knew that he shouldn’t be out here. He knew that if anyone saw him then he would
be finished, and yet here he was risking it all again.

  He looked up at the dim glow in the upper window of the house opposite. The building was not unusual. It looked like all the others on the terraced street, but it was what lay inside that set it apart from all the others.

  The slow drizzle started to become more persistent as he stood in the middle of the road looking up. His insides were in turmoil as his mind fought his desires for control.

  He tried to tell himself that the now heavy rain was forcing him inside to find shelter from the weather and from his hunger. Car lights suddenly appeared around the corner as a vehicle approached the bend up ahead and he made up his mind.

  He darted quickly across the road and used a small key that he took from his pocket. The key was small and gold but it unlocked far more than just a door.

  The tall terraced house opened up before him and he stepped inside. The heavy musk scent was intoxicating from the second that he stepped inside and his whole body trembled in anticipation. There were times when he hated himself for his weakness but those times were never inside here; inside here, all things were possible and he had a hunger to sate.

  The stairs creaked underfoot as they took his bulk. There were no guards patrolling the entrance as the secrecy of the building was absolute; at least that was what the owners promised.

  In his position, there was no way that he could take any risk of being discovered here, but the trouble was that every couple of months or so he got the itch and it was one for which he had no cure other than to satisfy it.

  He reached the upper level. The lights were dim and the décor was unassuming. He moved cautiously along the corridor past several doors until he reached his destination.

  His hand trembled as he reached out to knock. His whole body was sweating heavily and he could already tell that it was going to be a toxic aroma, but that wasn’t his concern.

  The door rattled under his heavy hand as he pounded a little too heavily in his eagerness. He stood waiting impatiently before the door finally creaked open and the sight caused his breath to catch in the back of his throat.

  The girl was slender to the point of skinny and she was young, as young as he liked them. Her face was a picture of sadness and shame which only fuelled his engine further. Her eyes were deep dark sockets of misery and she stepped aside waving him in.

  He moved past her and locked the door behind him. He walked to the small bedroom, shucking off his jacket as he went. The heat of the room was thick and oppressive as the radiators pumped out at full blast.

  There was a bed in the centre of the bedroom and a child’s collection of soft toys surrounding the sad sight. Part of him knew that the scene was a creation to set the mood but it excited him all the same.

  He sat on the small bed which groaned under his considerable weight. He loosened his tie and watched the girl while she kept her gaze aimed low to avert his hungry glare. His eyes meanwhile roamed all over her tender young flesh and took in the flimsy pyjamas that she wore. The night attire had been selected specifically by him in advance and was an exact match for his own daughter.

  He patted the bed next to him and the girl moved slowly to his side. He stroked her soft face and told himself that this was better, this was better than losing control at home with his own daughter, this had to be better.

  A knock at the door shocked him and he sat frozen on the bed, not knowing where to run to. He had used the house several times before and such was the organisation he had never seen another face, but now someone was outside.

  A quick glance around the room showed him that there was only one door and a boarded-up window. He was trapped.

  He sat motionless praying to God that whoever was outside had made a mistake and would leave on their own accord. The bolt on the inside of the door was solid and there was no way that anyone could get in; he just had to wait.

  His eyes suddenly bulged in terror as the bolt inexplicably slid across, seemingly of its own volition. The door creaked open and he knew that this was how it ended - trapped in a room with a young girl who looked like his daughter with his intentions plain for all to see.

  He closed his eyes and waited for the flash of the camera or the shouts of the police but neither came. When he opened his eyes again, a single slender man stood in the doorway while a mountain stood out in the hallway blocking the dim light.

  “Mr Home Secretary,” the slender man said as he stepped inside.

  Victor’s heart was pounding hard but at least it wasn’t over yet. Maybe his secret had a chance of remaining undiscovered by the public. This was just one man and one man could always be bartered with.

  The young man looked familiar and it took him a while to put a name to the face. “It’s Tolanson, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” Tolanson said as he wandered slowly around the room. “But you can call me Mr Tolanson.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “I don’t really think that’s the pertinent question, now is it?” Tolanson smiled.

  “What do you want?” Victor asked trying to stay afloat.

  “Better.” Tolanson winked. “The truth is that I want many things, Mr Home Secretary, but from you I want just one thing: time.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The general election is coming up a little too fast for my liking and I want it pushed back.”

  “Look, son, I don’t know who you’re working for but the election goes ahead as planned.”

  “Do I seem like a man who works for others?” Tolanson smiled again.

  “The Progression Party doesn’t even have a leader yet, not that it matters,” Victor replied arrogantly.

  “Then delaying the general election won’t make any difference.”

  “Who’s going to be the sacrificial lamb? Hargreaves? Grammer? It won’t make a difference; have you not checked the polls recently?”

  Tolanson sat down on the bed and smoothed his trousers out. “I will be taking the leadership, Mr Home Secretary.”

  The laugh was out of Victor’s mouth before he could stop it, his predicament momentarily forgotten.

  “I take that to mean that you don’t think I’m going to win then?” Tolanson asked pleasantly.

  “You’re a junior something or other. I don’t think that anyone even knows you exist!”

  “Well something tells me that you’re not going to forget me in a hurry,” Tolanson said, taking a long hard look at the young cowering girl on the other side of the room. “I’ll win the leadership of the party but I need time to prepare for the general election and you’re going to give me that time. You’ll recommend the idea to the prime minister and you’ll see it done… let’s say six months, shall we?”

  Victor sat motionless as the young slender man stood and walked back to the open door. His mind was racing with thoughts of his own survival. Tolanson was on a fool’s errand to be sure, but if all he wanted was a delay of the Progression Party’s inevitable defeat in the election then that was a small price to pay for his silence. Of course, the boy would be back for further instalments on his blackmail, but right now, all Victor had to do was to get out of this room.

  “What do I get if I agree?” Victor asked.

  “My undying gratitude.” Tolanson bowed theatrically. “And my silence of course.”

  “Your party will lose the election, are you really that eager for humiliation?”

  “Let me worry about the election. Who knows, perhaps I’ll surprise you,” Tolanson answered as he reached the door. “In the meantime, don’t let me keep you from your evening,” he said as he looked back towards the young girl. “I’m sure that you’ve paid a pretty penny for her and I wouldn’t want to see her go to waste. I’m not a complete monster, after all.”

  Victor looked on in shock as Tolanson merely closed the door and left, leaving the young girl behind to her fate.

  ----------

  Avery threw her jacket onto a kitchen chair and kicked off her heels. Sh
e didn’t bother checking her watch. It was dark outside and it was late but the sun would be up before she knew it and the new day would have to start all over again.

  She looked around the plush apartment appreciatively. The home had come as part of her deal and she’d been delighted when she had first been given the grand tour.

  It had three bedrooms, a huge lounge and a top-of-the-line kitchen. It came fully furnished which was a good thing as she wouldn’t have liked to spoil the place with her own meagre belongings.

  There was no way that she’d have ever been able to afford such luxury on her own salary and she’d been delighted to find that the apartment came as a perk and was rent free to boot.

  She’d been a little uncomfortable at first to find that there was a doorman on 24 hour duty. She’d met most of the men by now and there was even a guy younger than her called Darren who called her Ma’am or Miss Grant, which felt more than a little odd. This was her first time being in a position where anyone bent a knee and it didn’t quite feel right. Secretly she hoped it never would.

  The lounge was expertly decorated with a designer’s eye and the style suited her perfectly. Everything was minimal and tasteful with no clutter; it was how she lived and how she worked.

  Ideally she would have liked at least a year to build a candidate up to a leadership challenge but now she had only a few days left.

  The general election had finally been postponed and she still had no idea just how Tolanson had pulled off that minor miracle. The death of the Progression Party’s leader had left a vacuum, but it was one that her client was going to fill.

  She checked through the fridge and found nothing of an edible nature. Her shopping had taken a back seat to her job, along with everything else.

  Her answer machine was flashing on the wall and she mused how desperate people must be to reach her when they had to resort to calling landlines. She pressed play as she took a bottle of white wine from a rack beside the fridge; it would have been better chilled but she had little patience.