by Adam Carter
Rachael made it back to her car in just a few minutes, and as she closed the door and thumbed the heating on she realised she was as dry as when she left Tammy’s flat. Gazing out the window, she watched the heavy-thick raindrops spatter the glass as though they were hungry mosquitoes trying to gorge upon her blood; but she was dry and safe. Yes, she thought, Baronaire would always look after me.
And he’d better. He was all she had left now.
CHAPTER SIX
“Sanders doesn’t know we’re onto him,” Jeremiah said. “He suspects, but he doesn’t know the extent of our plans, or their immediacy.”
Baronaire stared at him blankly, although Jeremiah knew his old friend well enough to see the quirk in his eyes. Baronaire was thinking, debating their next course of action. This information Jeremiah was providing was crucial to their plans, and they needed to act with it firm in their minds. Presently the two men were watching the main entrance to the bunker which acted as headquarters to WetFish. They were standing atop a building several hundred metres away and with the aid of binoculars, coupled with their heightened sense of vision, they were able to track the movements of any officers arriving or departing.
“So we need to find Dalton,” Baronaire determined. “But we don’t need to find her quickly.”
“We have an advantage of time at the moment, Charles, but as soon as Sanders cottons on to us, that shall evaporate. We have to move as quickly as we can.”
Baronaire’s face remained unreadable, which meant he was still thinking. “I don’t see the rush.”
Sometimes Baronaire was the most exasperating man Jeremiah had ever known. The two of them had joined WetFish over ten years earlier in order to infiltrate the department and murder Edward Sanders. Now finally it seemed they were nearing that goal, and Baronaire was having second thoughts. And it had been Baronaire who had insisted upon it in the first place. “You do understand the necessity for the man’s death, Charles?”
“Yes. I just think his vision’s pretty respectable.”
“Creating a country free of crime is a wonderful goal, Charles, but it’s not going to happen. Do you have any leads on Dalton?”
“No. You?”
Jeremiah shook his head, then realised Baronaire was looking at him curiously. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, seriously, what?”
Baronaire looked back through the binoculars and seemed as though he wasn’t going to answer. Then he took them from his eyes and asked, “You promise me you haven’t seen Dalton recently?”
“Not since Christmas, no.”
“Oh.”
Jeremiah set his jaw firm. “What’s your problem?”
“You smell of her.”
And suddenly Jeremiah realised why his partner was being so edgy. Baronaire thought Jeremiah was withholding information, and that would likely get one of them killed. “Catherine Lake,” he said. “I was tracking Dalton and bumped into someone else entirely.”
“Catherine?” Baronaire played the name about his mind and Jeremiah could see he was no stranger to it. “Sanders mentioned her,” Baronaire said when he realised Jeremiah was growing annoyed.
“He what?”
“After that business with Dalton infiltrating us last year I asked Sanders whether there were any more of us in the country. He said aside from me, you and Dalton there were two others. Richard Barrows and Catherine.”
“He mentioned Barrows?”
“Yeah. Why? You knew him, right?”
“A long time ago.” Jeremiah had not known Sanders was so well informed, but if Sanders knew of Lake he could not see why he had made no move against her. But then knowing of someone’s existence and pinpointing where they lived were two separate things entirely. That Sanders also knew of Barrows was highly disturbing. Jeremiah had learned from Lake that Barrows was sleeping, which meant Sanders might well have just been waiting for him to wake up. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Sanders may well have been keeping Baronaire and himself around to tackle Barrows when he awoke. Which meant as soon as Barrows was out of the way Sanders might be then getting rid of the two of them also.
“There are too many layers in this for me to deal with,” Jeremiah said. “Sanders doesn’t know we’re onto him, so let’s just get him while ...”
He was cut off as Baronaire’s phone rang. Jeremiah waited impatiently while he answered it. With his expert hearing he could hear the entire conversation, although his rage made him lose track of it after the opening sentence, when Rachael Webster said, “Charles, I think Sanders might know you’re onto him.”
The stupid woman went on to say how she had pretty much told Tamara Uddin what their plans were, and let her go free to tell whomever she pleased. It meant their schedule was automatically pushed up. And as Baronaire hung up the phone he could see in Baronaire’s eyes that he understood this also.
“I want her left out of this,” Jeremiah said stonily. “That woman could ruin everything. The only reason I haven’t killed her yet is because of her connexion to you. But if she becomes a liability I swear I’m going straight after her myself, Charles.”
“You leave her alone,” Baronaire said flatly. Jeremiah could see the menace in his eyes and decided it probably had not been the best of ideas to threaten the woman he loved.
“Lin.”
Baronaire looked to the entrance to the bunker. Jeremiah had spoken the name softly, but knew Baronaire would have picked up on the uncertainty there. The two men watched as Detective Lin pulled her car into the entrance and vanished. She was off to make her report to Sanders, just as Jeremiah had planned. She would tell him she had gone to see Jeremiah at his home, there had been nothing amiss, and she had left. Instead of going straight back to report she had gone home and must have fallen asleep. Sanders would have her checked over, he would have a doctor examine every part of her body for puncture wounds. But Jeremiah had not touched her, and Sanders would have no ammunition to come after him. He would file Lin’s report away, determine that Jeremiah wasn’t any immediate danger to the operation, and hopefully go back to work.
Jeremiah knew Sanders too well for that, however: there would be further tests before Sanders would let his guard down before them.
“This is a waste of time,” Jeremiah found himself saying without even realising he was speaking aloud. “Why isn’t Dalton showing herself to us? I was under the impression she wanted to bring down Sanders just as much as we do. I mean, she wormed her way in, didn’t she?”
“She has something you don’t,” Baronaire said from where he crouched, unmoving, with his binoculars still to his eyes.
“And what’s that?”
“Patience. Maybe she thinks if she involves us too hastily we’d get her killed.”
Jeremiah stopped pacing the roof, hadn’t even realised he was doing so until that moment. Perhaps Baronaire was right, perhaps Dalton was testing them every bit as much as Sanders was. And they were failing her test. If that was so, she was likely watching them even now. Watching them and shaking her head in disapproval.
“Why did we think Dalton was a normal human at the bunker?” Baronaire asked without moving.
She could be here watching them, hiding in the shadows, and they would never know. “The females are more powerful,” Jeremiah said as his eyes roved each crack and crevice. “It’s probably to do with our origins in Egypt, but who knows?”
He could see nothing, and if Dalton was around she was indeed the perfect stealth agent.
Then he realised Baronaire was staring at him and realised the man’s ploy. Jeremiah did not talk about their species, and certainly did not divulge what little he knew of their origins. But Baronaire had played upon his anxiety to pry information from him. The two men locked eyes for several moments, and then Baronaire turned back to his binoculars. He had discovered a small piece of information today and that was enough for him. So far as Jeremiah was concerned, however, it did not matter. It wasn’t a
s though Baronaire was going to march off to Egypt any time soon, and even if he did there was likely nothing left to find.
“We should head out,” Jeremiah said. “Make sure your woman understands she’s to stay out of our way from here on in. I’m going to find Dalton no matter what it takes.”
Baronaire said nothing and Jeremiah did not look for a response. He had no idea what he was going to do, but the longer he spent around Baronaire the more he was likely to reveal. He had to get away, before Sanders won the war without even casting a single blow.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The evening was a mess and Jeremiah was making mistakes. This should have been easy; in fact it should have been the most straightforward thing he had ever done. Infiltrate WetFish, gain the old fool’s trust and then kill him. He hadn’t realised over ten years later he would still be awaiting that opportunity. Now when he was finally moving against Sanders Jeremiah was floundering all over the place. His time at WetFish had made him soft, complacent. He was not the monster he used to be, the terror of the lands for so many years. And Baronaire! Baronaire was a joke. Jeremiah was beginning to feel he had perhaps made a mistake in recruiting Baronaire in the first place, but he had to work with what he had; and right at that moment all he had was Baronaire.
He returned home without even knowing why he had done so. The house was big and dark and unfriendly when he was in his current mood, and he hated being there alone because all he tended to do was brood. He headed for his library, drifting out of his clothes as a mist so they fell as a heap upon the floor, re-forming in time to grab his dressing-gown. Tying the fabric belt and stepping into his slippers, Jeremiah sank into the large red chair which was worth more than most people earned in a month, and contemplated his books. He owned a vast library: shelves filled with books on every subject matter imaginable. He had a somewhat cliché ladder which rolled across the shelves to grant him access to every tome, and loved the feel of a book older than any living human. He took a book he had marked from his reading table and opened the pages to his current position. It was a speculative piece about the Norse Berserkers and their relation to were-wolves, and it was a fascinating read.
“Baring-Gould, Jeremiah? Really?”
He looked over the top of his book to see a woman standing several metres from him. Her arms were crossed as she examined the trove of endless shelves, without seeming to notice any of it. Jeremiah could see from this small moment that this was not a woman who cared for the written word.
“Ms Lake,” he said, slowly closing the book he held, making sure to bookmark the page once more. “I must admit I did not expect a visit.”
“I must admit I did not expect such a nice house. A shame you see the need to indulge in such follies as books.”
“I find them relaxing. They focus my mind when I have a problem to work through.”
“I find them opinionated, and a constant reminder of the human poison.”
“Are we not human, Ms Lake?”
She eyed him strangely then and Jeremiah wondered what she knew of their origins. For all he had refused to tell Baronaire, Jeremiah knew precious little. He had been told by a being mightier than he that their kind existed, that they had originated from Egypt, but that was about the extent of his knowledge.
“Tell me about Richard,” she said, ignoring his question entirely.
Jeremiah shrugged. “What is there to know?”
“You spent much time with him?”
“We travelled the country; he, Nathaniel and I. Once Nathaniel was killed we ... went our separate ways. I haven’t seen him since.”
“What was your impression of him?”
She spoke offhandedly but Jeremiah could see there was tension in her body. Her fingers traced the spines of the leather-bound volumes she cared nothing for, and he could imagine her nails tearing into them in anger at an answer she liked even less. “He was a good man,” Jeremiah admitted. “A monster, true, but then are we not all?”
“Why do you say he was a good man?”
“Because he changed. He was crueller than anyone I have ever seen, he terrorised for the simple pleasure of causing terror; but one day he just decided that was no way to live his life. And he stood up for his newfound beliefs. No matter what it cost him.”
“And his change ... does it erase all the evil he did?”
“No. But unlike the rest of us, Richard actually cares about the ... Evil? Ms Lake, you are a subscriber in the powers of good and evil?”
“We weren’t talking about me. I hear Richard found God.”
Jeremiah smiled. He did not ask from where Lake had unearthed that information, nor did he question its accuracy. “Did he now? I can’t say I’m surprised. For a long time I thought he was the one onto whom I was to pass my mission, but the man was a little too unstable for that.”
“Mission?”
Jeremiah’s face was stone. It seemed he was saying far too much lately to just about everyone.
“Was there a reason for your visit?” Jeremiah asked stonily. “Only I have to find Dalton and I fear our time may be running out.”
“I really just wanted to find out what you knew about Barrows before your boss killed you.” She looked at him then, for the first time since appearing in his library, and Jeremiah saw the hunger there. She was a woman who had fed recently – her skin was practically glowing with freshly pulsing blood – while Jeremiah had been too busy to much think about feeding. If she had come here to kill him there was precious little he could do to stop her. All he could really hope would be to last until Baronaire came to his rescue, and Baronaire didn’t even know he needed help.
Lake smiled cruelly. “I smell your fear, Jeremiah. It is a delicious sensation. Give me a reason not to kill you. Give me Richard Barrows.”
“I have told you, madam, I have not seen Richard for many years.” If he was in his living room he would reach for his poker, but sitting in his library he wasn’t even dressed. “But I shall look into the matter for you, when I have the time.”
“Perhaps your death would send Richard a message, Jeremiah.”
“I am certain it would. As I am certain it would instigate a hunt for you once my employer realised I was killed by one of my own.”
“Not quite one of your own. The female is always deadlier, Jeremiah.”
She took a single step towards him and Jeremiah knew no matter how quickly he moved he would not be able to outdistance her.
In the silent library the sudden sound of a flintlock being cocked echoed ominously. Lake froze and Jeremiah felt his heart flutter: with relief or love he was undecided. Julia Greyling stood directly behind Lake, clearly having noticed the commotion, and had somehow sneaked in with a gun lifted from Jeremiah’s antique collection. The flintlock had been primed, powdered and properly loaded, and there was no trace of fear or nervousness upon the young woman’s face. Only determination.
“I would quite agree, madam,” Julia said politely. “The female is indeed the deadlier.”
Lake scowled, for while her reflexes may well have been able to take down Julia before the woman could fire off her shot, she knew nothing of Jeremiah’s maid, of her knowledge or her training. She simply could not take the risk.
It was Jeremiah’s turn to smile. “Compare Julia to Starling, Ms Lake, and I think you shall be able to see for yourself why it is never a good idea to partake of the blood of your own private household staff.”
Lake set her jaw firm. “What do you want?”
“You want Richard, and I want Dalton.”
“I only learned of Dalton’s existence when you told me, how am I supposed to help you find her?”
“Because the female is deadlier, madam, and they do not stay that way by being stupid. Where will she be? What will she be doing? What would you be doing in her place right about now?”
“It all depends on what precisely she wants, and how badly she wants it.”
Jeremiah could see Lake’s eyes examining the woma
n to her side, trying to determine whether she would be able to rush her; but Jeremiah would be upon her before she had even killed Julia, and Lake knew it.
“Talk me through when you met her,” Lake said, looking back to Jeremiah and holding her head high. She had decided not to chance an attack, but she was not going to be especially pleasant about her capture.
“I’ve met her twice. The first time she went to the bunker. I believe she was sizing us up for when she would make her assault. The second time we met was Christmas, in an alleyway. She revealed information we could use against Sanders.”
“So she’s been to your place of work,” Lake said. “She won’t return there until she’s ready for her final assault. The second meeting is irrelevant in its location, it was just convenient since that was where you were.”
“So where is she now?”
“That all depends on whether she’s decided you’re fit for her purposes. If she doesn’t think you’re up for it she’ll have gone home. You won’t see her again.”
“And if she does decide we’re useable?”
“She’ll come to you.”
Jeremiah narrowed his eyes as he stared into Lake’s. There was a certain amount of humour to her gaze and he knew she was toying with him. She knew full well precisely where Dalton would be right at this moment, and she was stringing him along to see whether he could himself work it out. “Are you saying,” Jeremiah therefore said, “she’ll come here? To my house?”
“Or a neutral location, although a neutral location would stand the chance of Sanders seeing you two together. So yes, she would come directly to your home.”
Silence descended upon the library as Jeremiah made a show of looking about the room. “Can’t see her anywhere. Can you see Dalton anywhere, Julia?”
“No, sir. Can’t see her anywhere, sir.”
“It stands to reason,” Jeremiah said sarcastically, “that Dalton is not here.”
“No,” Lake said with a smile. “I never said she was.”
Jeremiah hid his angry exasperation well. “You said she would come to my home.”