by Matt Drabble
“Do me a favour, will you?” Steve asked tiredly.
“If I can.”
“Tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I can’t,” Sutherland answered with a touch of regret in his voice.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Take your pick.”
“Then how am I supposed to help?”
His friend didn’t say anything for a few seconds, long enough to make him wonder if Sutherland had actually left.
“Steve, I honestly think you’re the only good man I’ve ever known,” he said finally. “You take care of yourself and your girls, mate; get the hell out of this job and far away from here.”
And with that he was gone.
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McDere heard Tolanson start laughing. At first he had absolutely no idea what the sound was and came running towards the great man’s room as he feared that his master was under some kind of attack. But the closer he got to the door, the more identifiable and deeply disturbing the sound became.
Tolanson was a not a man given to mirth. He could not remember his master taking any kind of good-natured humour from any situation before. Sure, he could take a perverse delight at times from the suffering of others, but now his voice was racked with almost delirious booming laughter that made the very walls shake around them.
McDere knew his place in the grand scheme and he was happy to be of any service. It was not his place to question his betters, but now even he was starting to feel the empire’s foundations slipping. All he had ever known was absolution from Tolanson, a clarity of thought and deed that could only come from a deity. But now in his primal mind he was finding it harder and harder to continue fending off questions.
He looked in the mirror hanging at the end of the hallway outside Tolanson’s room. His fingers touched his face and the skin felt greasy and rotten. While his strength was still unquestionable, his muscles felt soft and spongy under the surface and he hadn’t dared look at his naked body in a while now for fear of what he might see. It was as if his fear of his master’s demise was now linked with his own physical deterioration.
He worshiped Tolanson like a insect before the sun, and now he was starting to find that the sun was fallible. He knew that Tolanson’s plan would place him atop the food chain once more if it was successful and he had never doubted that it would be; not until now, that was.
As he stood in the hallway outside the bedroom listening to the roaring hysterical laughter inside, he felt something that would have seemed impossible only a short time ago: he felt doubt.
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“What you got there?” Donovan asked him as he returned with the box in hand.
Sutherland loaded Steve’s box into the car and closed the door behind him. “Drive!” he ordered and for once Donovan did as he asked without an argument or questions. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a man like Steve to be his partner in this, rather than a halfwit thug like Donovan. Part of him desperately wanted to bring Steve in to help, someone that he could trust and rely on, but he shut those thoughts down hard. He was under no illusions. He might be a bad guy but he wasn’t a monster.
He leafed through the box of reports taken from the past few months. Some were cases that he knew Tolanson to be involved in, some were cases he suspected and others were suspicious and unsolved deaths.
It took an hour or so and he was appalled to find how much his detective brain had stagnated over the years. Tolanson had handed him cases with red ribbons tied to them for longer than he cared to remember. Cases that obviously served the politician’s own ends, but cases that required very little in the way of investigation. Now he was being forced to review case files and make some kind of sense of them.
“Well? Are you going to share?” Donovan finally asked when he could keep quiet no longer.
Sutherland had appreciated the silence while the young man drove, but he’d known that the peace wouldn’t last forever.
“We have to find something, something to go at him, something that he won’t see coming,” he answered absently.
“I’m kind of thinking that maybe we start driving and don’t stop. Sound like a plan?”
“You really think that it’d be that easy to walk away?” Sutherland scoffed.
“Well then, you tell me, genius! How are we supposed to go at a man, at a thing like Tolanson, without him seeing us coming a mile away?”
“Can’t you feel it? He’s weaker now; don’t ask me how or why but I know he is.”
“Bollocks!”
“We’re both still alive, aren’t we? When have you ever known him to miss what he was aiming at?”
Donovan considered the prospect silently.
“Here,” Sutherland exclaimed as he pulled out a file. “Debbie Barrett,” he said, reading the name printed above a photograph that he recognised.
“Who’s that?”
“She… was found dead,” he replied awkwardly, remembering the woman’s body that he’d left in the cottage.
He remembered that she’d worked for a newspaper and that Tolanson had killed her for some reason. That had only happened a couple of months back but already it seemed like a lifetime ago.
As per usual he’d been called in to clean up the mess. A couple of Donovan’s lieutenants had ambitions of their own and Tolanson had put paid to them in short measure.
“You remember a Wheaton and a… Pryor?” he asked as he struggled to remember the names.
“Yes,” Donovan answered curtly. “You have something to do with that?”
“Just carrying out orders,” he shrugged in reply.
“You kill them?”
Sutherland could sense the young man’s temper rising now and he didn’t know if it was because he had liked either of the two men or if it was simply because they were his men. Tolanson had killed Pryor and the Barrett woman and called him to clean it up, but he’d shot Wheaton.
“Tolanson killed Pryor, along with her,” he said, pointing at the woman’s photograph clipped to the top of a police report. “I shot Wheaton. If it makes you feel any better, both Wheaton and Pryor were looking to depose you.”
“Huh?”
“They were going to screw you over, cut a deal with Tolanson direct.”
“So how does this help us now?” Donovan asked, confused.
“The woman worked for a newspaper. My guess would be that she had something on Tolanson, something that he killed her for. It’s a long shot but maybe we look into her and we might find out whatever it was that got her killed.”
“How do we do that?”
“First things first, we check out her place; there’s an address right here,” he replied, eager to gain some kind of momentum, however long the shot was.
CHAPTER 28
A NOT SO SUPER HERO TEAM UP
Avery sat in the armchair in front of the fire letting the flames try and warm her bones, but the chill went far too deep to be cleansed.
She was nursing a glass of whisky and her mind couldn’t help but wander back to happier days, days when she and Debbie had dreamed about making a mark on the world and becoming somebodies. But for all that Debbie had hoped and dreamt of, she had only become a headline in someone else’s story.
Avery’s heart was heavy when she thought of her friend and how quickly and easily she had cast her aside once the chance to run a major campaign had come along. The money, the clothing allowance, the car and the apartment had all been head turning, but it had been the boost to her ego that had driven her into the metaphorical arms of Tolanson. She had left her best friend behind without a second thought and now Debbie was dead.
She slugged back the remainder of the glass and gagged a little on the harsh taste, but the warmth soon spread into her gut and her senses blissfully dulled a little - not quite enough, but a little.
She looked around the apartment and felt Debbie’s presence everywhere, from the wallpaper to the art prints hanging on them. There was still the faint aroma of h
er perfume that clung on in the air after death, a longing reminder that still haunted a once happy home.
Lomax suddenly burst into the room and held up a finger to his lips as he rushed past. Avery saw immediately that he had his gun out as he swept the room before moving on.
He was a big man and didn’t look in particularly good shape, yet he moved with a grace that belied his appearance and he had soon slipped into the next room.
She sat on the chair not knowing what to do next. Lomax’s fleeting appearance had startled her and the booze had not only dampened down her emotions but had also slowed her reflexes. Violence of any kind only succeeded in turning her stomach into a barbed twisted knot and now she only wanted to run.
Two men suddenly appeared through the archway that led into the kitchen. In the darkness she couldn’t make out their features but both seemed shocked to find her there.
“Miss Grant?” one of them asked in a slightly familiar voice
As he stepped into the dimly lit room, only the dancing light of the fire illuminated his features.
“Detective Sutherland?” she exclaimed.
The cop was the last person that she’d expected to see here and her momentary gasp of relief at seeing a policeman emerging from the shadows quickly evaporated when she remembered Lomax’s words about the man.
“What are you doing here, Miss Grant?” he demanded.
“Who the fuck is she?” Sutherland’s younger companion asked as he stepped forward.
“She works for Tolanson,” Sutherland answered.
Avery’s eyes widened in horror as both of the men drew guns from inside their jackets and pointed them at her.
“DON’T MOVE!” Lomax barked from behind as he crept up on the two newcomers.
Sutherland kept his gun trained on Avery while Donovan swung around to face Lomax.
Avery could only watch on helplessly as shouts and threats filled the air for what seemed like an eternity. All three men’s voices started to rise in intensity as no one looked like they were backing down, and Avery could only see imminent death. All three were bellowing threats about Tolanson, and from what she could make out, all of them were accusing the others of working for the politician. The air was electric and she could almost make out the sound of cocking hammers.
“ENOUGH!” she roared. “I SAID THAT’S FUCKING ENOUGH!” she screamed, hurling her glass against the wall, shattering it noisily.
The men looked at her awkwardly but at least they had stopped yelling at each other.
“That’s better,” she said as if talking to children. “In between the insults and name-calling, I take it that all of you are working against Tolanson now?”
Lomax stared at the other two with mistrust in his eyes. “They’re both in his pocket,” he said, jerking his gun towards them.
“And she works for him, hand in hand and up close,” Sutherland snapped back.
“Boys, believe it or not I think that we’re on the same side here,” she replied calmly. “How about we put down the guns for a moment and just talk? There’ll be plenty of time later to shoot each, I promise.”
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The next hour or so was filled with explanations and discussions, accusations and recriminations, but slowly, cooler heads prevailed and - save for Donovan’s often unhelpful rhetoric - they reached an uneasy alliance.
Sutherland didn’t go into too much detail but Avery could tell that the man had blood on his hands, and while his past deeds would no doubt catch up with him at some point, he was on the side of the angels for now. Donovan was unapologetic in the extreme and the young man’s motives were purely self-preservation. She didn’t like the kid one little bit and he made her skin crawl but their ranks weren’t exactly overflowing at the minute.
Lomax stuck to his story about being a reporter who’d had the misfortune to look into Tolanson and had paid the price, but she could tell that there was more to tell, and judging from the look on Sutherland’s face, the detective knew it too.
After a few rounds of whisky the bottle was empty and Debbie’s cupboards got raided for anything of alcoholic value. She noted with no little amusement that Donovan appeared quite fond of a peach schnapps drink that she had purchased on a skiing trip with Debbie a lifetime ago.
When the others were pretty mellow Lomax launched into his story of Tolanson and the lives that the man had lived.
She was hearing it for the second time. It still seemed as crazy as the first time, but to her amazement Sutherland and Donovan seemingly had a little less trouble accepting it than she had.
Once Lomax had finished his tale the two unlikely companions then began to tell their own stories about their experiences with Tolanson and she found herself with even more nightmares to deal with.
By the time that the stories had finished, an uncomfortable silence had settled over the room and the four of them were left deep in their own thoughts, and no doubt fears, about what may lie ahead.
“So,” she said finally, afraid that she could put off the inevitable no longer and someone had to force them forwards. “What do we do now?”
“I thought about trying to expose him,” Sutherland mused. “There are so many people that have been caught in the man’s path and mown down screaming. There has to be people willing to step forward and tell what they know.”
“The trouble is that anyone who can shed a little light has their own secrets to hide,” Lomax answered. “That’s how Tolanson works; he never leaves himself open. Those who don’t follow him willingly are compromised from the start, and by the time you realise what he is, it’s too late to get out.”
“Well what about you two?” Avery asked them.
“Haven’t you watched the news lately?” Sutherland scoffed. “I’m wanted for murder and Donovan… well, Donovan is Donovan. Nobody’s going to listen to either of us now; he’s seen to that.”
“Well what about me then?” she asked.
“No offence, love, but you wouldn’t last five minutes,” Donovan ventured. “Tolanson would send someone like him,” he said, pointing towards Sutherland. “Or worse, someone like me. You’d barely make a sound before you’d be in jail or worse.”
“Not to mention the fact that who’s going to believe you?” Lomax added. “There isn’t any evidence, there’re only stories, and crazy-ass ones at that. Hell, I’ve been stalking him for years and I still can’t believe half of what I know to be true.”
“So where does that leave us?” she asked, infuriated.
“We have to show the country what he is, or at least a glimpse of what lies beneath the surface,” Lomax replied slowly.
“And how do we do that?” Donovan asked.
“Tolanson is weaker now, weaker than he’s ever been. I’ve been watching him for years, and with everything that Avery’s told me, we’ll never have a better chance to expose him.”
“How?” Donovan demanded again.
“He’s hanging on by a very thin thread now. Avery told me about the campaign headquarters where he lost it; she said that he was raging at the room and that… well, that she could see him struggling to hold onto himself.”
She nodded in agreement as the other two looked at her for confirmation.
“The debate,” Sutherland said, catching hold of Lomax’s thoughts. “It’s live television! If we can get him to lose it on TV then the whole country will see him for what he really is.”
“Well that’s great, but how exactly do we get at him?” Donovan insisted. “He’s always surrounded by disciples, not to mention McDere. I don’t much fancy tangling with that ape!”
“We have to weaken him further,” Lomax explained. “We have to draw his power in other directions during the debate while he’s trying to contain himself. I think that he’s going to use those who follow him devoutly to kill for him, to sacrifice enough souls to get him over the line.”
“Where?” Sutherland asked quickly.
“The police station and the campaign headq
uarters. He has enough disciples in both who would commit heinous acts in his name,” Lomax replied.
“Wait a minute, why I am not one of his followers?” Sutherland asked, confused. “I mean, sure, I’ve been in his pocket and carried out… well, carried out various acts for him, but I’ve never been unaware of what I was doing.”
“You don’t understand,” Lomax said slowly as though speaking to a child. “Tolanson’s plans require both the sledgehammer and the scalpel. You, Detective, are a scalpel and so is Mr Donovan. His hordes are relatively mindless but they are devout. He can order them to kill but they can’t build a criminal empire or run a national campaign or do whatever it was that you did, Mr Sutherland.”
“Wait a minute,” Avery interjected. “Let’s say for a minute that you’re right, that he plans some kind of mass murder in two locations, wouldn’t that impact on the election? I mean, especially if one of those locations is his own campaign headquarters?”
“DAMMIT, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Lomax suddenly yelled at all of them, banging his fist down hard on the table. “None of it will matter after the debate, don’t you get it? Don’t any of you understand? If he gets his power boost, then nothing will matter anymore. He’ll win the election in a landslide. Every single person who watches the debate will vote for him, they’ll have no choice - they will all be under his control.”
“I don’t know; this sounds like a lot of bullshit to me,” Donovan added unhelpfully.
“I believe that he’s going to use the live debate to influence the watching public,” Lomax said, ignoring the young man. “He can turn a room full of people into converts when in close proximity. I think that he is able to reach through the cameras and into people’s homes. But I also think that it’s going to take everything he has left - and then some - to do it which is why he’ll require the deaths of innocents. There are still those in the police who are not his and there are those on the campaign staff who are blameless as well. His followers will slaughter the innocent and then kill themselves.”
“You know you’re kind of making this sound hopeless,” Donovan sniffed.