Unwrapped: A Fated Realms Novel - 1

by M J Sherlock

‘I make it my business to understand what terrorist or paramilitary groups are operating in the city. You seem to have been targeted by the Venator-’

  Our collective intake of breath gave us away.

  ‘Where’s their London base?’ He flicked his penetrating gaze to each of us in turn.

  ‘I wish. They have it in for me. Don’t know why.’ I dropped my gaze.

  ‘Where are your parents?’ He asked in a softer tone.

  His question scared me yet something about him made me want to unburden myself. He seemed intelligent and kind with laughter lines rather than frowns. ‘They’re at work. Some project finance meeting.’

  ‘Are you sure? I tried calling them but got no response.’

  Stella inhaled sharply and clutched at my arm. I shook her off.

  ‘They know nothing…’ I called them, one after the other. Their mobiles connected straight to voicemail as if switched off. Yet they always left them on, wanting to be available if I needed them, even if only by text. My fingers trembled and the phone slid from my grasp. ‘Are you with them - the Venator?’

  He shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. You’re in over your head, aren’t you?’

  My head span.

  ‘Put your head between your legs, Ellie.’ Taine got up and nudged me away from the table so I had room to move.

  I followed his lead, fighting the rushing in my ears and increasing queasiness. When the spinning sensation stopped, I lifted my head. ‘Tell us about the Venator. Do they really have my parents?’

  ‘Yes.’ He steepled his hands. ‘The company they work for is suspected of employing high-ranking Venator. Problem is we’ve never succeeded in getting our own people inside.’

  Taine settled back in his chair, white-faced at the turn of events.

  ‘Fascinating Inspector, but have you come to help or talk us to death?’ Stella’s tone was sharp.

  ‘I can secure a safe house for you. An unofficial witness protection scheme.’ He pulled out a small notepad and pen from his pocket.

  ‘I think not.’ Stella rose. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘You should have come forward earlier, Ellie. All this could have been prevented.’ He squiggled something on a piece of paper and folded it.

  ‘If you believe that you’re a numbskull,’ said Taine, ‘my parents-’

  ‘-Taine,’ Stella cried out before pressing her lips together.

  ‘What about your parents?’ The Inspector leaned in, his face alight with interest as if Taine had handed him the keys to the whole case. Maybe he had.

  ‘Detect. Isn’t that what detectives do? You need to leave.’ I retreated to the suite door and held it open.

  He followed me out, handing me the paper. ‘This is my private encrypted phone number. Call me day or night if you need help.’

  I took it and shoved it in my bag, unsure if I’d ever use it. I felt like I was taking part in a non-stop Iron Man competition, two races down and a marathon to go. We needed help but whose side was he on? I turned and went back inside, closing the door behind me.

  'If he’s right, we’re bringing Alex and India into a trap. Imal would never forgive me.' Taine’s hands covered his face and muffled his voice. 'If I feel he’s washed his hands of us now, that’s nothing to how he would be if we cost him his precious daughter.'

  'Can you check if they are okay?' asked Stella.

  A knock came at the door again. We jumped. Taine got up and peered through the peephole before opening the door for Alex and India.

  ‘You were right to recall us. The last few days we’ve been jumping at shadows,’ said India. She and Alex wore jeans, trainers and forest green jackets.

  ‘Any chance of a drink, while you tell us what has been going on here?' Alex nudged us back to the seating area but we had had enough of sitting.

  Fear strangled my voice. 'No time. We need to grab our stuff and clear out, now. Let’s catch up in the car.’

  'Seconded,’ said Stella. ‘I’ll write a note saying I have taken you back to my hotel and forget to mention which one.’

  Taine grabbed soft drinks out of the mini-bar and tossed one to each of them.

  ‘Hand over your phones,’ said Alex. ‘We need to make it harder for them to track us.'

  Taine, Stella and I tossed our phones to Alex who caught them and pulled out the batteries, sim cards and memory chips. He left the batteries on the side but dropped the chips and sim cards in a bottle of acid and pocketed the shell of the phones for later disposal far away. India slipped back out the door to get the car.

  I stepped into my parents’ bedroom and inhaled the scent of my Mum’s jasmine perfume before joining the others at the suite door. I grabbed my backpack, shoving in any remaining belongings. We raced outside as India pulled over in a dark coloured car. We jumped in and sped away from the hotel to the south, running without lights. A small convoy of black SUVs came from the north, dazzling headlights spotlighting the hotel grounds. Through the rear-view window, I witnessed shadows spilling out onto the car park.

  India floored the accelerator, putting as much distance between us and the hotel as possible. The winding roads limited our speed until we reached the motorway, but India seemed unfazed by the darkness. The Venator would be ten minutes behind us, max. If they caught up with us, we stood no chance. Knowing our luck, they would review the security footage, get our number plate and track us.

  'Alex, can you delete the security feed remotely?' I asked more in hope than expectation.

  'I’m ahead of you. India and I wiped the hotel’s CCTV recordings on the way up to your suite and cut the power to the cameras.' He rifled through his bag of gadgets.

  'We’re in with a chance then. They won’t know when we left or what we are driving. They may not chase us if they are unsure which way to go.' Optimistic perhaps but vibrating with anxiety was unhealthy too.

  Alex showed me his earpiece. 'We planted some bugs in your suite, the corridors, stairwells and lifts. If they talk, we should hear.' He pulled out an encrypted tablet and put it on speaker for the rest of us. I recognised the distinctive voices of the strike team from their previous mission.

  'Galden: Team split into four. Capture the Guardians and their co-conspirators alive. Check if the Cloaken is with them. Keep him alive if possible - we want to question him.'

  Sounds of running steps and staccato style radio reports filled our car.

  'T1: The security drive has been wiped, Sir. Power switched off to cameras. We’re going in blind.'

  'Galden: Blast. They must be getting help.'

  'T2: At back entrance. No sign of targets. Will maintain watch.'

  'T3: In position at suite, going in now.'

  The unmistakable sound of a hotel key card sliding down the door lock exposed how vulnerable we had been. Doors banged open as the operatives searched, followed by with muffled calls of, ‘Clear.’

  'T3: Too late. Targets have fled. Note here for parents saying gone to alternative hotel with Stella. No sign of the Guardian’s backpack, laptop or the missing Cloaken artefacts. Next orders?'

  'Galden: T4 report.'

  'T4: No activity at the front entrance. Advise next steps?'

  'Galden here: Sable take your team and strip down the room. Search and match all fingerprints and DNA evidence. Locate and retain any bugs and hidden cameras. Do not return empty-handed. The rest of you, maintain your position until her search concludes. Keep radio silence until you’ve completed your assignment.'

  ‘Shame we didn’t know to wipe our prints,’ muttered Taine.

  ‘Could cost us later but I think they had already rumbled us, it’s unlikely to make much difference.’

  We listened to the noise of the insertion team’s activities as they picked up our bugs. When the sounds stopped, Alex powered off the tablet. ‘Did you say anything compromising in the suite?'

  After some debate, we concluded they overheard our plans to recall Alex and India and our conversation with the detective who would need to pro
tect himself.

  'India and I both have encrypted phones if you need one,’ said Alex. ‘We will secure burner phones to contact Pierre and ask him to do the same. Cards can be tracked so we need to swap to cash.’ Alex sounded confident but then he and India had lived like this for a while.

  ‘Alex, text my Dad to go off radar. He’ll hate it but do it,’ said India. 'Now they have our fingerprints and DNA, they may identify us. We will have to disappear. Alex has the details of a Cloaken training centre, Camp Clotho. We’ll head there.’

  Chapter 21: Captured

  Elderton Manor

  Twice in one day, Galden had missed the Guardians. He cursed. The fault lay with either Intel or a traitor in their midst, pre-warning the enemy. Would that be enough to save him? Orev and Jabez licked up praise like dripping ice cream on a hot summer’s day but steaming heaps of manure, not so much. With his luck, they would pitch him in, headfirst.

  Knotted with tension, his back anticipated the pain of stab wounds to come. Either his neck was shrinking or his shoulders were rising to meet his chin. Perhaps the DNA and fingerprint evidence would placate his boss. HQ could trace relatives and squeeze out information until they crumbled to dry husks. Would Orev wait that long?

  Galden rotated his shoulders and massaged his neck but his muscles refused to contract. Fresh pain pinched his nerve endings. Orev enjoyed inflicting pain and recording it for later viewing. He delighted in making team members watch as he whipped, punched or sliced one or more of their colleagues, daring them to object. Anyone foolish enough to oppose him found themselves on the whipping post, or worse, much worse.

  Galden would never forget the day when as a young recruit he received his first clean up duty. Expecting a Guardian or Cloaken victim, he entered the room calmly enough but soon ejected every scrap of food from his system. It had been a death by a thousand cuts but as part of a macabre display, Orev placed artist’s canvas underneath the victim as well as on stands around the body. He had enjoyed the patterns made by the blood and recorded them forever. Taking the techniques of artists like Kandinsky and adding his own more ghoulish twist.

  When Galden learned it was Tom, a soft-mannered recruit, his unease grew. Now he knew the assignment of a friend to clean-up duty was no accident but a deliberate warning. Even then, he knew better than to complain.

  How could he salvage this situation? Galden replayed his last briefing from Orev and compared it to what they found at the hotel. Why the three-hour break? Did Orev want them to fail? The discarded drinks suggested further people had arrived. He hoped he had done enough to save himself and his team. Perhaps he should select a scapegoat to secure the rest of them.

  The female Guardian had not appeared computer savvy previously. What changed? Why wipe the security drive? How did she achieve it without the hotel staff noticing? With all the data gone, he might never know. Had they become complacent, sure the Guardians were out-matched? He circled back. Why the three-hour wait? Maybe if he focussed on that, the Conclave would hear and punish Orev, instead of his unit or his sister’s family.

  'Sable - take T3 and any evidence collected back to LZ One Forensics. Do not comment on the mission only state you are waiting for me. Team Leaders gather round. The rest of you take your places in the SUVs.' Galden twisted to face the three stood before him. ‘Sit rep now.'

  'T1 reporting sir: The security room was already compromised with cables cut and disks wiped. We found evidence of up to eight different suite occupants and scanned their fingerprints at the scene. Now matching them to other suspect sites. We’ll collate their movements and identify them.’

  ‘Did they have help?’ Galden stretched his arms behind him.

  ‘Someone planted bugs around the hotel. We believe they were listening in on us from our arrival until we left. Technical may be able to back trace the bugs’ signal unless they are out of range or switch them off remotely. It’s our best hope of finding them, sir.' The man gave a brief nod and stepped back.

  'T2 report.'

  A red-head stepped forward. 'Maintained watch at the back entrance. No one left. Our infrared cameras picked up normal activities, sir. No sign of any suite hopping or crouched occupants. They did a flit before we got there, sir.' He waited a moment for any questions then like the first nodded and returned to his place.

  'T4?' Galden studied the stringy young man in front of him for any sign of weakness.

  'Dax reporting, sir. Same as T2. No suspicious activity. No-one came or went after we arrived.' Dax stood ramrod straight. Keeping his voice inflectionless as he had been taught.

  'Hotel staff?'

  'All neutralised with dart guns, sir. A mild sedative inducing short term amnesia.'

  ‘Keep your reports short. Say nothing without evidence. I will go with T3. Regroup at LZ One.' Galden massaged his tight neck.

  The silence of the return journey contrasted with earlier high spirits, jokes at comrades’ expense and wild exaggerated claims of their prowess. Each person mentally prepared for their interrogation. Desperate to survive.

  Galden considered whom to sacrifice if pushed. Dax came to mind. Tall, heroin-slim, pale with tell-tale sores adorning his body. The Conclave banned drugs and penalties for their use were severe. Nevertheless, the unrelenting pace and grim nature of their duties drove some to find illicit means of obliterating feelings and numbing endless images of lives cut short. Pausing the mental replay of rejected screams for mercy,

  Galden gritted his teeth, better one die than the whole team. Few would miss Dax. He failed to secure anything of value from the Guardian’s home. Decision made, Galden closed his eyes and slept. He awoke with the alertness of a combat soldier the instant they arrived at LZ One.

  'Report to Orev immediately,' said the Gate Sentry.

  Galden whistled as he strode to the Commander’s office for the fourth time in twenty-four hours. He knocked at Orev’s door and entered with barely a pause. Galden saluted at the threshold. He strolled to a Chesterfield chair and sat, ready to make his report.

  His CO raised his eyes. 'Failed again, did you?'

  Galden’s tone was sharp. 'The Guardians fled the scene prior to our arrival as if warned. Why the three hour wait? Without it, we’d have caught them.'

  'Aggression won’t help you. I warned you failure has consequences.' Orev’s face was taut with anger.

  'So you did.’ Galden bared his teeth like a wolf going in for the kill. ‘How did you know the mission would fail?'

  'How dare you!’ Orev spat. ‘You should be grateful. I fought Jabez to allow you to keep your head.’

  Galden stood and leaned forward onto Orev’s desk. ‘Where did the intel come from? Whose idea was it to wait?'

  Orev paused. Galden knew then he had won without sacrificing Dax. He took his seat.

  'I’ll deal with our informant later. Sit rep now.’ Orev ran a hand over his thinning hair. ‘Tell me you got something out of this debacle.'

  'Eight different parties in the suite. Teams scanned their fingerprints and gathered up bugs and hidden cameras stashed around the hotel.’ Galden studied his short nails as though he had no greater care in the world. ‘T3 are working with Forensics to map fingerprints to suspected locations of Guardian and Cloaken activities. It may help identify wider Cloaken sympathisers.’

  'Get Ratface to give it priority. We may be able to back trace any belonging to the opposition.’

  'Indeed Sir, I’ll go to him now.’ Galden started to rise.

  'Wait.' Orev stared at Galden for a full minute as if deciding whether to challenge him for insubordination or to tell him more. 'All is not yet lost. We have Beta’s parents.'

  'Kidnapped, sir? How?’

  ‘They work for one of our companies. We promised to inform their daughter that they were held up at work. Her aunt is caring for her.'

  'How did we identify them?'

  'She was born into a long line of Guardians although her father never betrayed any Cloaken interest. We suspected the
Aunt but after our assassination thirteen years ago, she never showed up on our logs again.' Orev’s lip curled. 'The Guardian visited her with a boy this summer but they acted like tourists. We observed them occasionally but little more. We now believe the boy may be a fellow Guardian linked to two others who have been seeking our headquarters. Ghost also failed her mission today.'

  'Ghost, Sir? A step up for her?' Was she his successor, competition or support?

  'We intended to demonstrate what happens when the hunter becomes the prey.' Orev chuckled. 'Instead, they disappeared.' His laughter cut off, his eyes hard as flint.

  'And you think someone tipped them off? Could they have collected our targets from the Manor?' Galden dared to hope. His unit’s prospects were bleak otherwise.

  'Yes. The boy is gifted with technology and it would explain why our targets upped and left.' Orev picked up a thin file. The shredder’s teeth clinked and clanked like discordant music as it tore through it.

  'So how can we catch any traitor, sir?' Would he need to sacrifice Dax after all?

  'The usual. Polygraph, Psych evaluation, experimental drugs and torture. Do not warn them. I prefer my food fresh.' Orev’s eyes gleamed with malice.

  'Yes, sir.' Galden sprang from the chair, eager to escape. As before, Orev recalled him before he reached the door.

  ‘Actions have consequences. We picked up your nephew and offered him a few days’ work. He is unaware he is a detainee. Do not give me cause to change his status.’ Orev smirked.

  Galden saluted and left. He boxed off the problem to resolve later. His unit was safe. He texted their instructions and followed up with Ratface. Ghost’s promotion was hard to fathom. She had not covered herself in glory earlier in the year. Was Orev playing some sick game? Would one or both end up dead? Had Orev know Galden was soft on her?

  Ratface was in one of the labs, experimenting with his latest toy, a pen-shaped dart gun. Pinpricks riddled a target thirty metres away.

  'Hardly new, James Bond had those a number of decades ago.'

  'Trust you to blur fact and fiction. Now tell me what you came for so I can get rid of you.' Ratface enclosed the pen in a custom-made box on a counter behind him.