The Gated Trilogy

by Matt Drabble

  Douglas turned and ran, hoping that the man was dead or, at the very least, unconscious. The blow would surely have felled any normal human being, however large.

  He ran blindly for the barn’s exit with tears in his eyes. He had to reach the phone in the house and call the authorities. Part of him raged at the monster in the barn and part of him raged at the young woman who’d brought death to his door.

  He’d almost reached the barn door when, inexplicably, he heard the sound of McDere following him. He stumbled to a halt, unable to believe his own ears as the sound of the giant dragging himself along soon gave way to running footsteps.

  McDere suddenly shot out of the darkness into the gloom of the front of the barn. He grabbed Douglas by the shirt front and threw him effortlessly across the barn.

  He landed hard on the workbench, sending tools scattering across the ground with a ringing clatter. In the dim light at the front of the barn, close to the outer doors, he could see that McDere’s head was tilting obscenely to one side as though his neck was broken.

  The giant seemed to be having trouble focussing his gaze and looked around wildly trying to find his prey, his head lolling from side to side.

  Douglas scrambled back to his unsteady feet and staggered to one side. The movement, however, gave McDere a point of reference and he turned clumsily in that direction. Douglas searched the ground for a weapon but something felt badly wrong in one of his legs and he was unable to bend down. He clutched his ribs and limped towards the door, now only hoping to escape, but a powerful hand clamped down on his shoulder and dragged him backwards.

  He was suddenly propelled forwards with incredible strength and found himself spinning out of control and heading directly into the combine harvester’s wicked front blades.

  His feet scuffed the ground, and instead of uselessly trying to stop himself, he committed to the motion. At the last second, he leaned to one side and mercifully struck the side of the huge machine instead of hitting the blades full on. Although he’d avoided the full force of the blades into his chest, he couldn’t miss them entirely and his side was gouged badly.

  He reached down to touch his ribs and his hand came away wet with blood. He looked up just in time to see McDere charging at him.

  The giant was using one hand to hold his head on straight on top of his broken neck as he ran clumsily.

  Douglas waited until the last possible second before ignoring the pain in his leg and side and sidestepping. McDere was unable to stop himself and Douglas pirouetted out of the line of fire, shoving McDere in the back and sending him crashing into the blades.

  The giant impaled himself and shuddered to a halt, the wicked silver blades driven deep into his chest.

  Douglas staggered his way out of the barn and slammed the door shut behind him. His sweaty hands struggled to close the padlock. Fear and adrenaline fought to keep his hands from being steady but finally he managed to slam the lock shut.

  He limped his way back towards the farmhouse, desperate to call for help. Even though McDere had somehow managed to keep coming after him with a broken neck, he was now surely dead.

  The self-imposed question was answered by the roar of the combine harvester‘s engine sparking into life. Douglas turned in shock as the barn shook with the power of the industrial machine as it slipped into gear. The barn doors exploded outwards in a shower of shattered wood as the harvester lurched forwards and drove through them.

  Douglas tried to run but his wounds prevented him from moving quickly enough. He turned just in time to see McDere’s face in the harvester’s cab as the blades spun with dizzying speed and lethal force before they engulfed him in a shower of blood and bone.

  CHAPTER 20

  OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS

  Avery sat across the table from Parker Craven trying to get her head in the game. No matter what her current misgivings, she still had a job to do before she tried to find answers.

  Craven was a small and particular man. His clothes, his haircut, his glasses - even his expression - were all immaculate and hard to read.

  “Apologies for the lateness of the hour,” Craven said.

  “We never sleep on this side of the fence,” she joked back.

  “You’re quite the rising star, Ms Grant,” he finally said after a long pause.

  “I’m just trying to do a good job,” she responded.

  “Modest too.” He smiled gently.

  Avery was trying to get a read on the man but it was difficult. While he had a faultless reputation for his ability to run a campaign, she also knew that it must have taken a hit in the past few months. Jonathan Knowles was the incumbent prime minister and had been considered a lock for re-election; now, it was actually a race and Tolanson had the momentum.

  “Have you given any thought as to your position after the election?” he enquired.

  “I’m afraid that this is taking all of my focus.” She smiled, feeling like she was walking a tightrope.

  Everything that Craven said was hard to take at face value; she couldn’t help but think that every sentence had an ulterior motive.

  “Well, whatever way this shakes out, there’s a position for you with my company, Ms Grant. Now I know that you might thinking this is some kind of mind game play, but I’m serious. Politicians come and go but elections are forever, regardless of the level. My company doesn’t just handle politics, we also delve into the private sector - far more cutthroat,” he joked.

  “And lucrative, I’d imagine.”

  Craven merely smiled and shrugged.

  “To this business at hand?” she offered.

  “As you wish.”

  ----------

  Over the next several hours the discussions devolved into debates and then finally into arguments. She gave as good as she got as the barbs flew back and forth across the meeting room table. Craven was quick-witted and disarming with it, but he was always calculating and she soon got a feel for the man.

  They refuelled regularly with coffee and sugary snacks which only added to the shortness of tempers as the night rode on into the early hours of the next morning.

  The office had long since been deserted until only the two of them were left.

  During the negotiations she had started to get the feeling that Craven was going through the motions of being obstinate. He was worried, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

  Knowles was a known quantity and the debate could only lower his numbers if he didn’t nail it. Tolanson was up-and-coming and Craven knew it. They were having to bank everything on Knowles landing hard and often and thus exposing Tolanson’s inexperience. To begin with, she had only wanted one debate while Craven had demanded three, but now she was getting the impression that he only wanted the one also, an all-out nuclear strike.

  “Look, this is getting us nowhere,” he said, throwing his arms theatrically. “It’s late and we’re both tired and quite frankly I’m sick of the whole damn thing.”

  The hell you are, Avery thought.

  “What about this - you get your one debate, okay? I’ll concede to a single one-off debate if you concede to our details for it.”

  “What details?”

  “The time, place, you know… that sort of thing,” Craven said graciously.

  Avery sat back and considered the offer. Only a week ago she’d have bitten his hand off but now, now that she could tell that this was what he wanted, she was inclined to go the other way. Craven was worried which meant that Knowles had something to worry about.

  “Done.” A booming voice interrupted the silence in the room, making both her and Craven jump.

  “Mr Tolanson,” Craven said, jumping to his feet. “I was under the impression that you’d departed for the evening.”

  “I must confess, Mr Craven, to being somewhat of a night owl.” Tolanson grinned.

  Avery watched her boss carefully. During the negotiations she had temporarily forgotten Tolanson’s earlier behaviour. Gone now was the bulging, raging anger,
replaced with the smooth-as-silk politician once more.

  “Um, Mr Tolanson, might we have a word?” she said quietly to him as he entered the room.

  “No need, my dear; you’ve done a fabulous job. One debate is all I’ll need, Mr Craven. I hope that you tell the prime minister that?”

  Avery turned her attention to Craven. Maybe it was the late hour, the long drawn out negotiations, or maybe it was Tolanson himself, but Craven suddenly looked very unsure of everything.

  “Fine,” he squawked a little before clearing his throat. “Just dandy, Sir. I shall return the good news to the prime minister and I’ll be in touch with Ms Grant here about the details.”

  With that, Craven was gone, and Avery couldn’t help but notice how the man carefully avoided coming into contact with Tolanson as he squeezed though the doorway. She seemed to be noticing a lot of things lately.

  “Sir, was that wise?” she asked, steeling herself for another outburst.

  “Absolutely!” He beamed back, seemingly his old self again. “Trust me, Avery, one debate is all I need.”

  With that he was gone again, only this time he was whistling. It was an old tune and not one that she recognised, and for some reason, she noticed that she was shivering a little.

  ----------

  Sutherland yawned and stretched within the confines of what was rapidly becoming a familiar setting.

  They’d been watching the house for most of the night and Donovan hadn’t stopped complaining the whole time.

  “Where the hell is this guy?” Donovan demanded.

  Sutherland ignored him as best he could.

  “Who is he again?” Donovan asked.

  “Jesus, kid, don’t you ever listen? We’ve been through this. You were clear from the get-go that there is no way that you’re willing to use what evidence you have on Tolanson to bring him down, right?”

  “Hey, as I remember it you weren’t exactly too keen, either; some hero you are.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Donovan. I’m sure as hell no one’s idea of a hero, and no, I don’t want to end up in prison. I’m a cop, remember? You know what they do to us in there. Besides, I don’t think that either of us would be able to get ourselves immunity, not with what we’ve done the past.”

  “Right, so we need someone else, right?”

  “Yes, genius.” Sutherland sighed, feeling like he could spend the rest of his life stuck in the same conversation.

  “So who’s this guy again?” Donovan asked as he wiped the condensation from the car window to get a better look at the house they were watching.

  “Victor Michaels.”

  “And who’s he?”

  “The home secretary. A while back Tolanson had me dig up dirt on him. Michaels has a taste for young girls - very young girls,” he emphasised. “Tolanson needed something from the guy so I got the dirt and he did the leaning. Michaels has a senior position within the government and some very important ears listen to his advice. My guess is that he had something to do with postponing the general election.”

  “Michaels could do that? He’s got that kind of juice?”

  “Don’t forget that back then Tolanson was a nobody. I suppose that no one in power took him seriously, so why not seem magnanimous to the people after Gerald St James died?”

  “Ah yes, St James.” Donovan nodded as if he understood.

  Sutherland rubbed his eyes tiredly. “St James was the leader of the Progressive Party,” he explained, but Donovan only kept on nodding like a dog. “He would have been the challenger in the general election. With him dead, the Progressive Party needed a new candidate to stand against Knowles? The prime minister?”

  “I know, I know,” Donovan bristled.

  “Of course you do.”

  “So you reckon that this Michaels guy is going to be willing to fall on his sword and go public against Tolanson?”

  “Well… he might need a little push,” Sutherland conceded.

  “You ever wonder… what he is?”

  “Tolanson?”

  Donovan nodded. “I mean, we’ve both seen him do some pretty weird shit, right?”

  This time it was Sutherland who nodded silently.

  “I mean, he’s not normal, right?” Donovan asked.

  “Kid, I don’t even think he’s human.”

  “So how the hell do we stop him, I mean really stop him?”

  Sutherland sighed heavily; it was a question that he’d been asking himself a lot lately. Tolanson undoubtedly had abilities far beyond any normal human being and he didn’t know if the man could even be hurt, let alone killed. “I don’t know, kid, but one thing I don’t want to see is Tolanson running the country. That kind of power in his hands? I don’t want to imagine what he’d do with it.”

  “And McDere?”

  “What about him?”

  “He never leaves Tolanson’s side. Shit, you remember when we first met?”

  “Down on Whitehaven Docks.” Sutherland nodded.

  “Yeah, remember, I shot that big ape and he barely noticed. Guy pulled the bullet out with his fingers. I tried telling myself that he was wearing a vest, maybe Kevlar, but I don’t think so. I think if we tried to get in Tolanson’s face then McDere would pull our arms and legs off.”

  “All we can do for now is ruin the campaign. We make him lose the election and keep him out of the prime minister’s chair. Anything else… I don’t know.” Sutherland shrugged.

  He returned his attention to the house, wishing that real life was like the movies and he could just cut to the action instead of having to spend the night in a cold cramped car with only an idiot for company.

  ----------

  Avery made sure that she got to the office first the following morning by simply never leaving after her meeting with Craven. Tolanson had left her alone, and after him, there had been no one in the building. Her eyes had been dropping by then, however, and she’d struck a deal with herself for just a quick nap. Unfortunately by the time that she’d woken, the sun was already on the rise.

  She’d wanted some alone time with the office but she had no idea what she was looking for. More and more lately she knew that something was wrong here, deeply wrong. It was a creeping sensation that tingled her spine but not one that she could put a name to. The only thing she knew for sure was that every instinct in her body screamed for her to get the hell out of there and not look back.

  She supposed that it was her innate stubbornness that kept her here. She had worked too long and too damn hard to simply up sticks and run away with her tail between her legs. Her career would be ruined if she left now and Tolanson would have ample grounds to take legal action against her if his campaign manager walked just days before the election. Such a move could sink his campaign when all of the polls had them neck and neck with Knowles and she would be blamed for destabilising his campaign. Besides, all she had at the minute was a feeling. She needed something concrete before she potentially ruined her life.

  The large offices always had a different feel to them when they were empty. It wasn’t just the lack of people that made them feel different, it was the absence of a certain kind of energy. When the rooms were staffed, there was an intensity in the air, an almost religious fervour that permeated these walls. But on the rare occasion that she had been here alone, it was almost like the air was suddenly clean and she could breathe freely.

  She heaved herself up off the meeting room sofa that had held her for most of the night and wandered out into the outer office space. There were several small offices off the main thoroughfare but most people tended to shun the privacy. It was only her and Tolanson who held private offices; even Mrs Wilberforce sat amongst the masses.

  Time was moving rapidly as she checked her watch. The senior assistant would no doubt be in soon and if she wanted to poke around she didn’t have much time and certainly none to waste.

  As there was a lack of private offices there was only one real place to look and that was Tolan
son’s own room.

  It was with some reluctance that she headed towards the door and part of her privately hoped that the door would be locked. It wasn’t.

  The handle felt cold to the touch as she reached out and opened the door. She suddenly realised that her insides were deadly still and her breath had caught in her throat as she pushed open the door. She had no idea what she expected to find inside but she was suddenly deathly afraid.

  The door squeaked as she pushed it and she flinched as though the sound would generate an army of security that would come running, but no one came.

  She peeked inside and found nothing to fund her suspicions. It was a simple office with a desk, a chair, a bookcase against one wall and a small sofa against another.

  The lack of anything - well, the lack of anything at all, surprisingly - didn’t settle her nerves. She had no idea what she expected to find but she had expected to find something.

  She quickly moved to the desk, fully aware of the time constraints. There were two drawers but both were locked tight, and although in itself a locked drawer wasn’t much to find, she just knew that she had to look inside.

  The desk top and bookcase were both devoid of a key and, as much as she might want to look inside, she didn’t want to break them open and notify Tolanson so openly of her fears.

  She checked for a letter opener or something to try and pop the drawers open but there was nothing at hand. She sat in his chair and tried to get some kind of feel for the man, but again there was nothing: no feelings, no flash of inspiration, just a leather chair and a faint smell of his aftershave.

  The chair reclined and she pushed it back, wondering what the hell she was doing. Perhaps it was all just a lack of sleep and a ton of stress. The bug in her car was the only thing tangible but she had no proof that Tolanson had put it there. It was far more likely to be from the opposition, and after meeting Craven, she found it easier to picture his people putting it there than Tolanson’s.

  There and then she decided to stop acting like a girl and return to being a woman. She would tell Tolanson about the bug and he would take care of it. He would take care of her and everything else. All she had to do was to follow him and he would lead all of them into the promised land…