The Remnant Keeper (Tombs Rising Book 1)

by Robert Scott-Norton

  Coming up the stairs—was no one. In his imagination, he could see a ghost of Leech returning. That smirk would linger in the air like the Cheshire Cat—but now there was nothing. But, whatever had woken him could still be Leech, it would make sense. A man desperate enough to kill three people in a busy habitat block. He’d return to the scene of a crime in a heartbeat.

  Leech had killed seven people that Jack knew about. All within the space of a couple of weeks. And yet, the police had so far failed to suggest any progress had been made in apprehending the man. Jack had been closest with his gate-crashing the ATL meeting, but even with that information, Burnfield had failed to get him. Would they be able to do anything more after his session with Moira in the interview room yesterday?

  Something small whizzed up the stairs, hovering a metre from the ground.

  What the hell was that?

  A micro-drone. Like an angry wasp, it buzzed around Jack. These were specialist bits of kit. You couldn’t just walk into a shop and buy one. He struck out with his cricket bat, aiming for the buzzing noise of its rotors. But he struck too late and his bat caught the walls of the landing, breaking chips from the plaster—the target was fast and dangerous. A tiny puff of air spat past his ear and he ducked his head instinctively. Something hit the wall behind him and tinkled to the floor. He dropped and found the micro-dart where it had fallen. They were trying to drug him. Leech had shown no predilection for this approach. He was very much an ‘in your face with a knife’ kind of man.

  Jack threw the dart back down in disgust and swung around with the bat as he heard the drone approach from behind. He missed, then swung again as it came around for another pass. This time, the bat made contact, and the drone smashed against the wall with a satisfying crunch.

  “Butler,” Jack whispered. “Turn on the lights.”

  The house remained dark. Jack pressed his HALO and saw that his Butler system was down. He realised that he hadn’t got it working again since Keeley’s death. There was a light switch at the top of the stairs and he reached for it, keeping his eyes flicking from doorway to doorway along the landing, ready to take down any more drones. The switch clicked under his finger, but the lights failed to come on. Great, he would have to do this in the dark.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, Jack hurried down the stairs. They’d expect him to be scared, to not even try to defend the house. Maybe they thought that whatever little telepath attack they’d subjected him to, would be enough to knock him out. These sons of bitches would find out he would not lie down and take it anymore. They’d have heard the drone smashing. Would there be any more? At the bottom of the stairs, he once again tapped the bat against the palm of his other hand and glanced at the front door. If he ran outside, it might be better. In the open, his attacker would have fewer places to hide and there’d be the chance of witnesses. Inside was a different matter. Anger inhabited him. It coursed through his veins as thick as the blood. Jack didn’t want witnesses. If this was Leech, Jack wanted a chance to make him pay before the police showed up. The man didn’t deserve a trial. Jack was prepared to be his judge and jury.

  He stepped along the hallway towards the back of the house, confident that no one was coming for him from upstairs. A shape lunged from the open lounge doorway and charged at Jack. A crackle of energy from the shape’s left side and a blue arc of sparks lit up the hallway for a brief terrifying second. A second man in a balaclava rushed from the kitchen. Two men, ready to take Jack down.

  Jack yelled and dove towards the first man, their clumsy attack meant that one man was trapped behind the other. All a bonus for Jack. He brandished the cricket bat and whacked the man’s arm carrying the stun gun. He roared in pain but even as he brought his other arm up to strike, Jack shoulder-charged him, driving his rage into the impact. The first man fell backwards into the second who was nimble enough to side-step and avoid most of the impact.

  First man down. Second standing.

  Jack kicked hard at the first man, aiming for his balls, and he heard a satisfying squawk of pain. But, as he lifted his bat for a swing at the second man he found the shadows moving quickly, and his bat hit uselessly against the wall. Jack glimpsed the second man’s weapon jabbing forwards, sparks flying between the contact points. But, now he had a solid thing to aim for. He raised the bat, aiming for the second man’s head but his target dove forwards, aiming low. The stun gun glanced against the exposed skin of Jack’s leg. A crackle. Jack tried to scream, but his face was locked in muscle spasms. The gun slipped and the spasms ended. Jack fell to the floor. His body aching like he’d fallen down the stairs. But, in his torture, he hadn’t been able to let go of the cricket bat. Even as the second man came for him again, Jack drove his bat forward and grunted in satisfaction as it struck the man’s head.

  No time to waste. Jack scrambled on his unsteady legs, fighting against the unease. He struck hard against the first man’s torso who cried out and dropped his weapon. Jack slipped his foot behind the intruder’s ankle and pulled it from under him. The intruder fell. Jack swung down again with the cricket bat before dropping that and snatching the stun gun.

  The weapon was simplicity to use.

  The guy on his left scrambled for him. He depressed the handle and stuck it into the man’s side. Crackling filled the air, and the man fell back down. Jack held it against him for a few seconds before switching to the second man, still unconscious from the knock to his head.

  And then, when all he could hear was the laboured breathing of the men at his feet, he took the stun gun and gave them each another turn.

  It was the least he could do.

  12:57 AM

  Dragging them into the front room had been easy. The men were compliant after their second burst of the stun gun, but Jack wasn’t stupid. He bound their hands with the curtain tie-backs from the front room—thick decorative ropes that would hold them good enough.

  With the two men secure and moaning softly in the front room, propped up against the couch, Jack hurried to the kitchen and swiped his HALO. A light emitted and he angled it to the AI board. It had been smashed. There was a manual override for the power, and he pumped the handle to the engaged position and the lights came back on. Taking the stairs two at a time, Jack ran up to Keeley’s office and searched in her desk drawer. He found what he was looking for and hurried back downstairs, gripping the stun gun tightly. As he walked back into the front room, he turned on the main light.

  He ignored the men for a moment and went to the mantelpiece where he fiddled with the item he’d taken from Keeley’s office. When he was ready he turned to the men, giving them his full attention. In the light, the men were more intimidating. It was stupid, but in the dark and the shadows, it was easy to pretend that this was something happening to him in a dream. In the bright glare of the overhead light, seeing two men in black fatigues and balaclavas, he could no longer pretend this wasn’t happening to him.

  Two pairs of eyes stared back at him from behind their masks. Jack stepped in front of them, keeping away from their outstretched legs, and hunched down.

  “You chose a shitty night to come for me.”

  The eyes stared at him.

  “I guess, you’re not going to mind if we continue this face to face,” Jack said, and he quickly stood up and grabbed the balaclava first off one man, and then the other. When he moved away, he found that he wasn’t as surprised as he could have been.

  The men from the ATL meeting. Claud and Mack. The two men who’d saved him from a beating by Growden and taken him to the hospital to get patched up. Jack blew out a deep breath and tipped his head back feeling the muscles stretch out the knots in his neck. He rolled his head on his shoulders and smiled wanly at his new guests. “If you wanted to drop in for a drink, all you had to do was call.”

  Neither men spoke. Claud stared at a spot to the right of Jack’s shoulder. Mack was tutting to himself and clicking his tongue against his teeth.

  “That’s some way to treat
a friend,” Jack said, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Jack felt the redness bloom in his cheeks and he closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. What the hell was he going to do? These people were involved with the police. Had Burnfield sent them? Were they after Lavinia’s eye? Decided, Jack opened his eyes and brought the stun gun in front of him. With a steely gaze, he depressed the trigger and watched the sparks bridge the contacts.

  “I’ll use this again. I’m sick of being the one on the receiving end. One of you will give me some answers or we’ll see how long the batteries in this thing last.”

  Mack turned his attention to Jack. “You’re out of your depth.”

  “Good. I always enjoyed a challenge.”

  “This challenge is liable to get you killed.”

  “Is that what you were here to do? Kill me?”

  Mack grinned and then sighed. “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “We were meant to bring you back to OsMiTech. You’ve become a thorn in Devan’s side. He’d sooner you were on OsMiTech premises where you’d stop embarrassing us in front of the police.”

  “But you are the police,” Jack said, confused.

  Claud laughed. “Why would you think that?”

  “The ATL meeting. You were working on a case. Burnfield said that Growden was under investigation.”

  “And he is. But not by the police.”

  And then Jack realised who he was talking to. “I thought you were a rumour put out to intimidate.”

  Claud nodded. “Intimidation is good.”

  “You’re Telepath Intelligence and Security.”

  Claud nodded again. “And now we have to kill you.”

  Jack’s heart jumped a beat, and he straightened, ready for an attack. When he realised that Claud was joking, he relaxed a little—but not much. “How have I become so important that TIS have come after me?”

  Mack shuffled on his spot on the floor. “Can’t you undo these ropes? They’re itchy as hell.”

  Jack shook his head. “Tough.”

  “How long are you going to keep us here like this?”

  Jack had no idea what his next course of action would be. He wondered whether to just call the police. It would certainly take the problem away. But then he remembered how Burnfield had acted in the hospital after he’d been attacked by Growden. “What’s going on between you and Detective Burnfield.”

  Mack shrugged.

  Jack continued, “At the hospital, after you dropped me off. You called Burnfield and complained about me. He spoke about you without batting an eye. He knows you. Why would a detective know a member of the TIS? He’s nothing to you.”

  “Just doing the guy a favour. Trying to keep you out of trouble,” Mack said. “You were messing around with one of our cases.”

  Jack felt like he’d been side-stepped. Maybe it was nothing. “Care to explain what’s so important about Frazier Growden?”

  “Can’t do that.”

  “Are you that worried about what he’s doing that they’re sending in two of you to risk life and limb?”

  Mack chuckled. “Hardly.”

  “When you took me to the hospital, you said the ATL were planning something big. What did you mean?”

  Claud glanced at Mack.

  Jack didn’t think he was going to get anywhere. Neither men were going to tell him what they were investigating with Growden. He doubted it was because they were worried about the members of his organisation. From how quickly they’d fled the cinema at the first sign of trouble, Growden’s followers didn’t seem much of a fighting force. If it wasn’t his people, was it something else? He used a canary on the gate to stop telepaths getting into the meeting. So, he was happy to become a hypocrite when it suited his ends. It wasn’t then that he didn’t want telepaths in society; it had to be more that he was unhappy with who had access to them. And why would a man be so afraid of other people having telepaths?

  “What secrets is Growden hiding? That’s what you’re trying to find out isn’t it?”

  Mack’s eyes narrowed. “You’re talking crap. Just let us go. We won’t bother you again.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jack said, ignoring him. “If Growden can hire a canary to work for him, he doesn’t need to worry about money. If he wasn’t concerned about where his money came from, he wouldn’t need to hire a canary—it would all be legit. So, his money isn’t legit. He’s protecting his business interests. The ATL meetings are a smoke screen to cover his true activities.”

  “How’s the head?” Mack asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Jack was hoping that whoever had done that attack, was now spent. And the stun gun wouldn’t have helped their telepathic centres. He’d given them both a good dose. He’d only had a couple of seconds on it and felt like his head was in a bucket. They would be pretty scrambled.

  “Yes, thanks for that. It’s a nice trick. I hope one day to repay the favour.”

  “Well, that depends on how effective the blast was,” Mack smiled. Jack had a severe urge to use the stun gun again, but he took a deep breath and ignored the jibe. If they were trying to distract him that meant he was onto something. Growden was involved in crime. OK, that much seemed clear now. For him to be commanding respect from that ATL group suggested he was the main man or close to whoever was running the show. Was this also why Burnfield knew what the TIS team were up to? An ongoing investigation into Growden’s activities? These men weren’t going to talk, but perhaps he’d get what he needed from Burnfield. If he was in any way right about this, then it—hell how did this help him? Growden wasn’t the man behind his wife’s murder. He knew the murderer’s name, but it still wasn’t helping him catch him.

  “Growden came after me today. I don’t think it was just because of the ATL meeting. It seemed personal. Any idea why?”

  Claud shook his head. “We heard about that. Sounds like you got a few more people killed. You’re a proper good vigilante aren’t you?”

  Jack gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. All it would take would be one well-placed punch to wipe the smile—

  This wasn’t him. Keeley wouldn’t have recognised the man he was turning into. Hell, he didn’t recognise himself either. It was like he’d found another person hiding inside. Someone dangerous.

  “Why do you think Growden might be so interested in me?”

  Mack grinned. “Maybe he thinks you’ve a pretty smile.”

  Jack held the stun gun under Mack’s nose. “I’ll use it.”

  Mack nodded. “Yeah, you might. And I might have a heart attack if you use that thing on me again. Are you ready to take the next step and finally be directly responsible for another man’s death?”

  Jack hesitated. His urge to depress that trigger one more time was almost overwhelming. But he didn’t. He let go of the anger and stepped back.

  “What you gonna do? You can’t keep us here all night,” Claud said, the boredom evident. “You’re going to have to let us go.”

  “And what then?” Jack asked. “You going to send more people after me?”

  Claud shook his head. “No. What’s the point? You know who we are. You know that you can’t keep that eye in your head forever. Come to OsMiTech in the morning and have it taken out. That’s all we want.”

  “What’s so important about this eye?” Jack thundered, throwing the stun gun against the wall. The casing shattered and components skittered across the floor.

  Claud stared at the bits of metal and plastic, then looked up and said, “Nothing.”

  Jack glared back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean, nothing.”

  “You’ve had that eye in your head for the last two days. How would anyone else know what was in it.”

  “You’re not getting away from it that easily. It’s bullshit.”

  “You’re the one making people nervous. You haven’t filed your report and you’re hanging onto the evidence. You’re the one that’s making us think you
’ve got something to hide.”

  Could he be right? Was Jack making this whole mess worse by acting like he had valuable information? His head hurt from the same problems and questions cycling his mind. He didn’t know what he was meant to do for the best. OsMiTech was meant to be the safest place for telepaths and yet they’d sent their security agents after him—prepared to kidnap him. The police were relying on him to pass on information in their investigation. Anna was gone. Keeley dead. His whole world, so safe and secure only three days ago, had crumbled into an empty wasteland.

  Jack had only one thing left he could do with these men.

  Carefully, so as not to unsettle them, but quickly so he didn’t put himself at risk for longer than necessary, he reached behind first Claud then Mack and untied them.

  Standing back quickly, he stood staring at the two men, then at the broken remains of the stun gun. “Go,” he said calmly. “Get the hell out of my house.”

  The two men stood. Claud raised an eyebrow. “Trusting all of a sudden.”

  Jack turned and tapped the cube he’d placed on the mantelpiece earlier. “One of my wife’s recorders. She used it when working on field assignments. It’s set to upload video direct to the Fuse Media servers. Whatever has gone on in this room is going to be checked by one of her colleagues in the next few hours—unless I delete it first.”

  Claud glanced at Mack, perhaps asking how much they believed the story. “Still,” Claud said, the irritation plain in his tone, “it wouldn’t stop us from taking you.”

  “And you’d find your faces all over the news feeds in the morning. That will dent your careers as undercover agents won’t it? Now, get the hell out of my house. If I see you again, even so much as glimpse you, I’m going to make sure everyone on the networks knows your faces.”

  Jack felt calm for the first time that evening. He could see the tension play out on the men’s faces and sense their hatred towards him as if it were something they could attack him with. The men turned and withdrew.