by Matt Drabble
“What is this?” Michaels demanded.
Donovan answered by stepping forwards and punching the man hard in the face.
Michaels dropped to the floor clutching his nose as it spurted blood as Donovan loomed over him.
Suddenly, powerful hands grabbed him from behind and he was being yanked out of the room.
The man behind was taller and obviously stronger than he was. Donovan knew that this was the man tasked by Fearns to look after the girl; well, looking after her in this situation was clearly a loose term.
Donovan kicked back uselessly as he was hoisted upwards with the big ape’s arm under his chin and crushing his throat. If he could have spoken then the ape would have known who he was, but his voice was being strangled and his face was turned away. Through his watering eyes he could see Michaels desperately trying to pull his clothes back on and leave.
Gritting his teeth instead of fighting to pull himself forwards, he suddenly gave all of his strength to driving himself backwards. Now, the two men’s momentum was joined together and they flew backwards along the hallway.
Donovan’s feet were flying as he drove backwards and the man holding him was unable to stop before they hit the window at the back of the hallway.
The glass and rotten frame gave way easily and suddenly the man behind was driven out through the hole in the wall. At the last minute Donovan reached out and grabbed the sides of the frame, ignoring the pain as glass shards bit deeply into his palms. The thrust drove most of him outwards but he held on grimly as blood ran from his hands. Dangling out of the window, he pulled himself slowly back in through the gap just in time to see Michaels stumbling along the hallway and towards the stairs. Donovan staggered back to his feet and gave chase.
For an overweight civil servant, Michaels could really move when he wanted to and Donovan had to sprint to try and catch him up.
Michaels exploded out of the front door and tore off down the street with Donovan in hot pursuit. They ran along the pavement, derelict houses flashing by, and Donovan could see that Michaels was heading back to the main road, maybe to lose himself in the crowd.
They were running along a narrow alleyway that led out into the main high street which was lined with shops and pedestrians.
He sprinted harder, failing to understand how the older man was still ahead of him. The main road was looming up fast now and there was a throng of people bustling by. Cars were driving past and only a few seemed to be adhering to the speed limit. Donovan could see that Michaels was going to reach the busy street before him, maybe losing him.
“MICHAELS!” he bellowed after the man, trying to get him to stop running.
He only realised his mistake when it was too late. He’d been trying to get the man to stop, but when he did stop running, it was unfortunately in the middle of the road as he burst out of the alleyway. The sound of his name being shouted in public at top volume made the man turn in fear back towards the shouter. The street was suddenly alive with the sound of screeching brakes as a bus desperately tried to avoid Michaels without success.
Donovan stopped in his tracks just before he reached the street but he got a good view of Michaels being suddenly lifted off his feet as the huge bus hit him hard. Michaels was a big man but it was no contest. Donovan saw the man crumple as the bus’s huge metallic front crushed him just before he disappeared under the wheels.
He turned away just as witnesses started screaming in horror. The bus must have had the latest in windscreen wiper technology as they started to work as soon as the blood hit the glass.
Donovan pulled his hood up over his head and headed back down the alleyway before anyone got a good look at his face.
----------
Avery had gone home early after all. She had wanted Lomax to make the break-in theory look real but he had clocked her a little harder than she’d wanted and now her head was aching.
She took a long hot bath and enjoyed the soaking silence. Normally, she couldn’t stand not having at least two senses occupied at any one time, but now she forced herself to slow down and take stock.
She had hoped that her conversation with Lomax would have faded, given a little time and distance. She’d assumed that by now his fears would have seemed preposterous, but the news report on TV had put paid to that comforting notion once and for all. While she might have been able to convince herself that Mrs Wilberforce’s attack had been an aberration, the news report about the double murder at a farm on the edge of town blew that out of the water.
When Superintendant Chambers had mentioned something about a double murder back at the campaign headquarters, she had felt a stab of unknowing fear but hadn’t been sure why. But as soon as the first footage started to be played on the TV, she had immediately recognised Douglas’s farm. The kindly old farmer had stopped to help her and his son had found the bug in her car, and now they were both dead.
She sat on the edge of the bath and towelled her hair, letting the motion soothe her. As far as she was concerned, there were at least three bodies attached to her personally: Debbie then Douglas and Douglas Jnr.
The taste of bitter guilt filled the back of her throat and she just had time to rush to the sink before retching dryly. She clutched the sides of the porcelain basin to keep herself upright.
When the heaves stopped, she looked up and wiped the bathroom cabinet mirror clear of steam. She stared at her own reflection and refused to give in to the shame that lurked in her heart. She may have innocently dragged three people into danger but all she could do now was to make sure that no one else suffered as a result. As much as she wanted to run, she knew that she would be far more guilty if she did nothing.
She stared hard at her own reflection and tried to find the courage for what she had to do. Her mother had raised her to be a strong woman, to stand on her own two feet and never rely on anyone for anything.
Her work ethic had taken her far, to the point where her reputation had gone from being a joke to taking a candidate from nowhere and getting him to within an inch of the highest post in the country. Now she realised that her blood was boiling, not just for those who might have died with Tolanson’s involvement. She was starting to wonder how much of the campaign had been her and how much had been him.
Lomax had spoken about Tolanson having an influence, one that helped to shape the room around him. What if everything she had achieved had somehow been orchestrated by him? She had taken great pride in her success, but what if he was the one deserving of the credit? It was a hard pill to swallow and it didn’t taste very nice.
She wrapped herself in a thick dressing gown and walked out into the lounge area, no longer feeling the hot bath; now, she felt chilled. She took the small card from her jacket pocket, which was hanging on the back of nearby chair. She used the landline to call Lomax and waited for him to answer.
“Hello?” he finally replied.
“Lomax, it’s Avery Grant.”
“Oh, Ms Grant… sorry, I didn’t recognise the number. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”
“Did you see the news today?”
“I’m afraid that where I’m currently residing doesn’t have such amenities,” he said apologetically.
“There were two deaths early this morning out at a farm, a farmer and his son. The farmer gave me a lift when I… well, when I broke down. The son helped get me back on the road but not before he found a bug in my car.”
“I see.”
“Well the farmer and his son were murdered. Any thoughts?” she asked with misdirected anger.
“Tolanson,” he immediately replied. “You found his listening device and he took care of who else knew about it.”
“Am I in danger now?”
“Without question.”
“Damn, don’t sugar-coat it, will you?” She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Not my job, Ms Grant. There’s a stack of bodies a mile high all across the country and beyond, all of which have been left by Tolanson or hi
s people.”
“You said that you had proof.”
“Indeed I do… well, of a sorts.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It’s only proof if you accept the premise in the first place.”
“What premise?”
“That he’s a devil, Ms Grant.”
“He’s the Devil?” she asked incredulously.
“Not the Devil, just a devil, or maybe there’s no difference… who can tell anymore?” he said tiredly.
“Look, I’m in, okay, but I want to see what you’ve got before I decide what to do next.”
The silence was long and deafening.
“Mr Lomax? Are you still there?”
“Look, maybe I was wrong to approach you, Ms Grant; there’s enough blood on my hands already and I don’t know how much more I can stand.”
“Isn’t that my choice? I mean, you’ve already half-opened my eyes here, Mr Lomax. You have to finish the job.”
“Okay,” he finally sighed. “Where should we meet?”
“You could come here?”
“Where’s here?”
“Home.”
“Dear God, you’re calling me from your home line? Are you insane? If they bugged your car, don’t you think that they would have bugged your home too?” he exclaimed.
Avery looked around the apartment, suddenly nervous as though she expected someone to kick the door down any second. “Maybe you’re right,” she said anxiously. “I met a policeman today. he seemed on the level; maybe I should give him a call?”
“What was his name?”
Avery searched her jacket pocket. “Sutherland,” she said, finding the details.
“NO!” Lomax roared down the line. “Anyone but him! He’s about as deep in Tolanson’s pocket as anyone. He’s the last cop you’d want to call. I suggest that you leave as soon as possible, Ms Grant, and hope that your place is clean.”
“I’ve got a friend - I mean I had a friend - who gave me a spare set of keys to her apartment; we could meet there.”
“Fine, fine. Just leave quickly and I’ll meet you there.”
She gave him Debbie’s address and hung up. She dressed quickly and kept on looking over her shoulder, cursing herself for her stupidity. Of course if they’d bugged her car then they might have bugged her home too.
She threw a few things into a bag and left. She ran down the stairs and then down into the underground parking area. Normally, the place was well lit and safe for the apartment block’s residents, many of who were single professional women.
She hovered in the lift doorway as she looked out into the gloom. She could see her car parked about 30 feet away but there were only shadows in between and now she was seeing looming men inside each one.
She gripped her overnight bag firmly and refused to be intimidated. The woman that her mother raised did not skulk in the darkness. Even so she ran quickly, glad of the sensible footwear that she’d chosen.
Just as she reached her car, she heard footsteps behind and started to dig frantically for her keys in the bag. She hadn’t owned the vehicle long and wasn’t used to keeping the keys close to hand yet. As a result, they were drowning somewhere in the bottom of her bag.
She dug for them frenetically as the heavy footsteps approaching from behind closed in quickly. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned, armed with the only thing that she could find of substance in her bag - a perfume bottle. She sprayed the substance into the man’s eyes and watched in horror as he collapsed, wailing.
“Darren?” she gasped. “Shit, Darren, I’m so sorry!” she apologised as the apartment block’s doorman sunk to his knees, clutching his eyes in pain.
“You dropped your keys inside,” he gasped through bleary eyes.
Darren was a skinny young man who wore his military style porter’s uniform with a strange pride, given that his job was mainly walking dogs and opening doors. He was a sweet kid and harmless enough and now she might have blinded him for returning her keys.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as she took the keys from his outstretched hand.
She opened the car door and quickly retrieved a half-full bottle of mineral water from the passenger seat.
“Here, look up,” she said and then poured the water into his swollen eyes. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you, Miss,” he answered formally.
“I’m sorry, but I’m in a rush,” she said, apologising again. “I’ve got to go.”
“No problem; it was entirely my fault for startling you,” he said through red-rimmed eyes as he blinked furiously.
Avery left the young man there, shoving a little more guilt on top of an already overstocked pile.
He waited until she’d left before he took out a phone from his pocket and pressed #1 on the speed dial.
“She just left,” he said down the line.
“Where?” the voice demanded.
“I don’t know, but she had a bag with her. It was big enough for a few clothes but not to leave for good.”
The man hung up without another word but Darren didn’t mind. He was serving a higher cause, after all.
CHAPTER 23
CHASING TAILS
Tolanson rubbed his eyes wearily; he couldn’t ever remember feeling this tired before in his long, long life. He thought back several lives ago when he’d been just a young boy. His father had been… well, his father was gone by then and that was a deep dark hole that he never looked into.
As a boy he’d been a preacher, of all things. He still remembered fondly touring the new world with his mother in tow as they spread the good word looking for somewhere to settle and build. Back in those days, he had laid his head down on many a day, spent, and slept like the dead. Now, when he slept, there was no peace and no rest waiting for him inside the darkness; now, there was only churning uncertainty and fear.
McDere stuck his head around the office door. The big man lived on the life force that he gave him. As a result he could withstand wounds that would be fatal to mortal men without adverse affect, but now he was starting to look a little worse for wear in line with Tolanson’s slipping grip.
The big man’s face was starting to look pale and somehow older. His skin had the fragility of an elderly frail man and he moved noticeably slower now, like he was ill.
“What is it now?” he asked tiredly, wishing that the world would just leave him alone to rest for a few minutes.
“The woman,” McDere answered as he stepped into the office and closed the door behind him.
“You’ll have to be a little more specific,” Tolanson snapped.
“Huh?”
“Which woman, Alistair? The world is full of the creatures!”
“The Grant woman.”
“Well?”
“She’s left her apartment.”
“Is that all? My word. ‘Woman leaves apartment’ - let’s call a bloody press conference!”
“She had a bag with her.”
“Wow, a bag you say?” Tolanson mocked. “Is that it? Is that all the news? You haven’t heard what the weather is like for tomorrow or what’s number one in the charts? Or maybe what you’re having for dinner tonight!” Tolanson roared in frustration as he flung the desk over in front of him.
McDere remained motionless as the man ranted and raved before him.
“You bring me all sorts of wonderfully useful news, don’t you? What are you fit for, McDere… hmm? Answer me; what the hell do I keep you around for? JUICY OFFICE GOSSIP!” he yelled as he kicked the fallen desk hard enough for it to smash into the wall on the other side of the office.
The door suddenly flung open and one of the interns burst in. The young man’s face was white with fear caused by the ruckus.
“Sir! Is everything alright?” the boy asked, nervously.
“Alright? ALRIGHT?” Tolanson roared as he crossed the office floor in an instant. “Do I look alright? Does Mr McDere here look alright?” he screamed in the boy’s face as
he pulled the ceiling lampshade down to illuminate the big man’s decaying features.
The boy squirmed, and for the life of him, Tolanson couldn’t remember what the child’s name was. Young people all looked the same around the office these days, boys and girls alike.
“I’m sorry, Sir?” the boy cried, close to tears.
“Sorry?” Tolanson laughed bitterly. “Sorry! Did you hear that, Mr McDere? The boy is sorry. Well now, that fixes everything, doesn’t it?”
“Sir?” the boy asked again and now he was crying.
Tolanson pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm himself. Not only was his power slipping these days, his very self was as well. He had once prided himself on his control of the world around him and now he struggled to hold onto his temper.
“Alright, calm yourself,” he said when he was finally under control again. “Stop that crying.”
The young man stood sandwiched between Tolanson and McDere and now his teary eyes were bulging in fear.
“Calm!” Tolanson ordered as he concentrated, but still the boy blubbed. “I SAID CALM!”
This time the boy shrieked and tried to run out of the office. Tolanson reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, yanking him inwards again.
“Calm down,” he ordered as he placed a soothing hand on the boy’s forehead but, inexplicably, the child squirmed in his grip and still tried to flee.
“I SAID CALM!” Tolanson roared and slapped the boy across the face, unable to comprehend why this insect wasn’t obeying his commands.
But still the boy blubbed on and Tolanson hit him harder, and then harder again. At some point, his open-handed slaps became full-fisted blows that rained down on the terrified boy, dropping him to his knees. Tolanson maintained his grip on the child’s shirt, holding him up as he continued to batter his face.
At some point he grew aware that his hand was now only striking bone, and when he looked down, he saw that the kid’s face was now a bloody mess and that the boy was dead in his hands.
“Feel better?” McDere asked by his side.
“Oddly, yes,” Tolanson answered with a sigh of relief. “A little exercise does a man good.” He smiled as he let the boy slip to the floor. “Now, what were you saying about our Ms Grant?”