by Storm Chase
The door to the outer office banged open, rousing Pandora from her sleep. She had trouble keeping her eyes open. The lights were still flickering oddly, sending strange shadows over the office.
Sir Harry walked in. Pandora saw he was furious yet she sensed he was also nervous. His eyes flickered to the half drunk cup of tea. Pandora thought hazily that he looked rather surprised to see her. Maybe he’d expected her to bolt.
She scrambled to her feet. “Did you speak to the Brigadier?” she asked nervously.
A shadow loomed behind Sir Harry. A tall, square built man in a dark blue security uniform stood gazing at her impassively. With horror Pandora realised Sir Harry had called the police. Her heart skipped a beat; she really was going to be sick.
“If you’d follow me, Miss,” the policeman intoned.
“Where are we going?” Pandora asked hoarsely.
“Routine!” Sir Harry barked. “Got to make a full report!”
Shakily, Pandora followed them into the outer office. Moving made her feel dizzy. Spots danced in front of her eyes. She swayed and clutched at a wall. “I think I’m going to faint,” she whispered.
Pandora felt herself slide slowly down the wall. She couldn’t see but her ears were still working.
“Come on, help me pick her up!” the policeman snapped. “We’ve only got eight more minutes.”
Pandora felt strong arms help her to her feet but her body wasn’t working properly. Her legs buckled as the two men moved her swiftly out of the office and into the lift. When they marched her out of the back door, a blast of the icy wind helped open her eyes. Fuzzily she saw a homeless man stagger up. She’d seen him hanging about the area before.
“Got a couple of quid for a cup of tea and a hot supper?” he asked.
He was so close to them that Pandora could smell his breath. It was sickly sweet from cheap rum and rotting teeth.
“Had a bit too much booze with the boss, love?” he guffawed blearily. “Got any left?”
Abruptly Sir Harry moved forward, leaving Pandora slumped against the policeman. As if in a dream she saw Sir Harry take the homeless man by the arm. There was a flash of steel and then the homeless man was making an odd grunting noise as he folded onto the cobbled street. The boneless way he went down sent shivers down Pandora’s spine. Surely her eyes had betrayed her? Surely Sir Harry hadn’t stabbed him? She swayed and tried to focus but her vision kept blurring.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” the policeman hissed.
“He was an eye-witness.”
“He was just an old soak, for God’s sake!”
Pandora blinked. This couldn’t be real. Yet the old man was lying on the cobbles and there was a pool of black liquid spreading out from underneath him. She lifted her head and stared at Sir Harry. He looked the same as ever but the knife in his hand was dark with blood. He wiped the knife on the homeless man’s coat, and then took out a handkerchief and carefully cleaned his hands.
“Better to be certain,” Sir Harry said quietly. “I don’t like the idea of her going off like this either. It’s too big a risk.”
The policeman shrugged. “It’s not your call.”
Pandora looked at the man at her feet and felt a surge of nausea well up inside her. She tried to wrench herself loose but the policeman held her tightly. “He’s hurt, call an ambulance,” her voice sounded strange and faint in her ears.
She felt herself begin to black out. As she staggered, the policeman had difficulty holding her up. Sir Harry exclaimed and stood up to help him but the second he took a hold of her arm, Pandora panicked. She jerked away violently, causing the policeman to lose his grip momentarily. She tottered for a moment, then slid to her knees and landed right in the blood that was pooling on the cobbles. The rich dark fluid splashed into the air. It smelled coppery. Seeing the open frightened eyes up close, her hands and knees sticky with acrid blood, Pandora threw up.
The policeman swore and lifted her to her feet. Pandora hung in his grip, shivering and gulping. She would remember those awful staring eyes and that smell to her dying day. She held her hands out stiffly in front of her, petrified of the dark stickiness that stained them. She didn’t resist when the policeman tugged her away from the body.
The policeman was talking to Sir Harry. “You killed him,” he said coldly, “so you can deal with the body. And you can explain to Dragon.”
“What?” Sir Harry blanched.
“Dragon gave the orders on this one. He said there was to be no trouble.”
“It was unavoidable,” Sir Harry spluttered.
“You tell him that, mate.”
They were standing in front of a van carrying the logo of a security company. The policeman opened the door to the back with one hand and pushed Pandora into the back. He leaned over her, looking into her eyes.
“Everything will be fine. You just go to sleep,” he said. She could hear him rummaging around in the back. He came back with a box of wet wipes. Briskly he cleaned her hands. Then he produced a bottle of water. “Here, drink this.” He touched it to her lips. Instinctively she drank. The water soothed the dreadful taste of vomit that lined her throat. “Good girl.” He shimmered and vanished from her sight.
Sir Harry’s voice came floating through the dark. “You can take this body with you.”
“No way. I have a job to do.”
“It won’t make any difference. You can dump him in the river somewhere.”
“Do your own dumping, mate.”
They were still arguing as Pandora drifted into unconsciousness.
Chapter Two
She could hear voices.
“Bit sudden, isn’t it?” a nasal voice whined. “I didn’t bargain for this, you know. It’s late and I’ve got friends waiting for me.”
Lucky you, Pandora thought vaguely. For some reason she couldn’t see. She struggled feebly to sit up. There was a pinch in her arm and Pandora drifted off again.
She surfaced briefly again, becoming aware of a bright white light. There was something sticking into her arm.
“What’s your name?” a voice asked.
“Pandora,” she whispered. “Where am I? What’s wrong with me?”
She felt hot yet very relaxed, as if she had been drinking cocktails on a tropical beach somewhere. Opening her eyes, she saw she was in a bed, wearing a hospital gown. There was a sickly floral scent of disinfectant in the air. When she looked around, she saw a drip in her arm.
A face shimmered into view. It was the policeman. “You’ll be all right in a minute,” he said.
“Sir Harry! Why don’t you arrest him?” Pandora asked groggily.
“Don’t worry, Pandora, we’ll send someone to pick him up.”
His voice was so firm that Pandora believed him. “I don’t understand what’s going on,” she said. “Are you MI5? Is this all some big plan to get at Sir Harry? Is he a spy?”
“Yes,” he said confidently. “And now we’ve got a few questions, Pandora. Tell me how you got the job at Admiralty House.”
“I just applied,” Pandora murmured. “My father used to be in the Army. I thought it might help. I didn’t tell him though. He wouldn’t have liked it. He wants me to marry Richard but I can’t. I really can’t. I don’t love him. I don’t even really like him. Now my father won’t speak to me. I think he likes Richard more than me.”
Part of her wondered why she was spilling her secret thoughts to a total stranger. But once she’d started, she couldn’t stop. She told him about coming to London, about her failure to find the work she wanted, about Richard, about the break-up, and finally about the brigadier.
The policeman just sat and listened. Every now and again he made her go back over her story but mostly he sat there, smiling at her, encouraging her to talk.
“I don’t know why you’re listening to all this,” Pandora said eventually. “You’ll arrest Sir Harry won’t you? And please will you tell the brigadier that I’m very sorry? I wanted to laugh because
he kept calling me ‘Pandowah’ and I think he knew. But I followed instructions, honestly I did. I didn’t want to but I did it because it was my duty.”
“Of course. There’s no need to worry, Pandora.” He was standing up and fiddling with the IV. “Everything is fine. I think you should close your eyes for a minute. You’re a bit tired.”
“I didn’t mean to mess up,” Pandora mumbled as she faded out again.
She came to with a rush of consciousness. She was lying on something hard. It was shaking her about and there was a huge loud rattling noise surrounding her. Her mouth and throat felt dried out. She struggled to sit up.
“She’s awake,” a deep voice said.
“Fuck. She’s supposed to be out for another hour at least.” The voice was vaguely familiar.
“Let’s take a look.”
Pandora felt a weight on her hip. She tried to speak but no sound came out.
“No! Dragon says she’s not to be touched.”
The pressure disappeared. “Is it true what they say about him?”
“I don’t know what they say and I wouldn’t try to find out. I like breathing.”
Pandora realised it was the policeman. The one who worked for MI5. Vaguely she wondered if he was taking her to prison.
The voices continued chatting.
“I heard he can get you anywhere in the world. They say he had a man eviscerated in China one time.”
“Right.”
“Is it true?”
“Probably.”
“What does he want with her then?”
“Don’t know. I just do my job.”
The noise was deafening. Pandora tried to orient herself. She was lying on her side inside something soft. A sleeping bag. That’s what it was. The rattling sound was rhythmic. She was being rolled about by a shifting movement. Not a boat. Not a plane. Pandora suddenly realised it was a feeling she recognised from commuting to work: she was in a train.
“Well, it can’t hurt just to take a look at her,” the first voice said. “She might be choking inside that sleeping bag or something.”
There was a slight pressure, then light. Pandora blinked. Her sight was fuzzy. All she could make out was a round black face above her. He was wearing a white shirt of a silky material that shimmered in a shaft of sunlight. There was an odd earthy smell and the air felt hot and sticky.
“Leave her alone, Molakissi!” the other voice warned.
A second face loomed into her vision. It was the policeman. He was wearing a bright pink shirt now and he looked tired and dirty.
“Go back to sleep,” he said to her. “We’re almost there. Just another hour or two.”
She stared at the two faces, trying to understand what was happening. She put out a hand and half sat up. She was lying on a bench. She could see a window. Looking out, there were trees flashing by. They looked strange. Somehow they were the wrong colour of green and the wrong shape.
“Where am I?” she tried to ask. Her voice came out like a rasp.
An ear-splitting sheering noise cut through the sound of the train rattling along the tracks. A hand knocked her down onto the bench.
“Christ! Watch out! Incoming!”
There was a loud bang followed by a rattle of sounds. Horrified, Pandora realised it was gunfire. She wriggled round, looking about her in a panic. The barrage of bullets was coming from outside, splintering wood and punching holes in metal. Something exploded, filling the compartment with smoke.
“Down!”
The policeman’s heavy hand was keeping her flat on the bench but she could see white-shirt sitting opposite them had pulled out a gun. He was firing through the window. The sound was deafening.
The policeman was furious. “Get down, you damn fool! You can’t hit them from here with that pop-gun!”
Pandora was paralysed with fear. She saw white-shirt reload, lean out of the window and fire again. Then he stopped firing. She caught her breath, then gasped in fright as he began to topple off the bench. A round red hole was spreading rapidly from the centre of his shirt.
He half sat up, touching the stain with wonder. He turned slightly to look at her as another rattle of gunfire blasted through the carriage. Pandora watched as a fusillade of bullets hit him. As if in slow motion, the back of his head exploded in a spray of red and grey fragments.
Pandora felt moisture on her face. The policeman’s hand was holding her down but she wriggled an arm out from the sleeping bag and wiped her cheek. Her hand came away covered in little red streaks. Looking down, Pandora saw that white-shirt’s blood and brains were splashed over the sleeping bag as well as her face and hair. She gasped again and retched. Struggling, she tried to get away. She didn’t want to be anywhere near that smashed head.
She could hear swearing. The policeman was touching her. She felt his hand on her neck. The world shimmered around her and mercifully darkened again.
This time she shot into consciousness in a snap. For a moment she was totally disoriented. She sensed she was moving but she seemed to be hanging upside down. And she was uncomfortable. There was something in front of her face. It felt soft, like a blanket. She was still in the sleeping bag.
Pandora panicked. The guns would start again any moment and she’d get shot. She struggled and bumped her head against a hard surface. A voice growled at her. Abruptly Pandora realised she was slung over someone’s shoulder. She tried to speak but her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
The sensation that she was moving stopped. She heard a door slide open. She was in a lift, and whoever was carrying her was stepping out.
“Finally!” a voice said sharply. “I was expecting you hours ago. What kept you?”
She couldn’t understand the muttered reply. Whoever was carrying her was now leaning forward and twisting. She was sliding down to the ground but she was helpless to stop herself fall. She came down on a hard floor with a thump.
“Careful!” the voice snapped. “Why is she all rolled up like that? I said she was to be handled with care.”
“We were attacked on the train. Molakissi is dead. Your girl woke up, panicked and almost got shot. She’s fine but I didn’t want the whole city seeing me carrying a blonde about so I taped her up. I know what you said, Dragon but it was for her own protection. It’s only been an hour and a half.”
“If you’ve hurt her,” the voice snapped, “I’ll have your skin.”
“Yes, I know.”
Pandora heard footsteps walk away. She strained herself to hear. She could feel she was in a large space. There was an impression of light airiness. She tried to wriggle her fingers. She couldn’t even feel them. Panicking, she tried to move her feet. She couldn’t feel them either but the movement sent her bumping into something hard.
“It’s okay,” the voice said. “Hang on, Pandora.”
She didn’t know that voice. How did he know her name? Pandora felt panic run through her. Something was very wrong.
Abruptly the sleeping bag was pulled away from her face. She closed her eyes instinctively against the glaring light. She could feel hands reach behind her. There was a tearing sound and her arms flopped to her side. Pandora tried to stand but all she could do was writhe. She sensed he was touching her feet. There was the sound of more tearing.
She still couldn’t move. She remembered the gunfire. Maybe she’d been hit? Her sense of panic intensified.
A hand reached down, held her chin and turned her head up. She squinted and got a vague impression of dark blond hair and very light brown eyes. He appeared to stretch miles above her.
His finger stroked her cheek. “Hello,” he said lightly. “Want to get up off the floor?”
He put a hand under her arm and lifted her to her feet. She stood swaying, leaning on him. She couldn’t feel her feet and her vision wavered as if she were about to faint. She was in a large apartment but everything was too blurred to see much.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he was saying. “Don�
��t worry. I’ll take care of you now.”
She wanted to ask him what was happening but her body wasn’t working.
“You need a shower,” he said. “Stupid buggers really fucked up.”
She got glimpses of the room as he half walked and half carried her. Big windows, lots of light, and a polished wooden floor. The air flowed coolly against her skin. Pandora suddenly realised she was still wearing the hospital gown. She tried to ask him what was happening but all that came out was a rough croak.
A doorway opened into a tiled area. It was definitely a bathroom but it had a huge window. She could see mountains in the distance. He led her into a shower cubicle and let her sink gently onto the floor. The hospital gown’s Velcro fastenings came apart at the shoulders. Seconds later icy cold water cascaded over her. She tried to scramble out of the way but she still couldn’t feel her hands and feet.
“Oops, sorry,” the voice said.
The water warmed. A red dragon with a narrow cat’s face and sharp talons shimmered in front of her. It seemed to turn into a large loofah.
Dragon, Pandora thought vaguely. She tried to sit up and failed. She wondered if her spine had been injured.
A second later he’d squirted soap all over her back. He was rubbing briskly. Pandora tried to make herself as small as possible. She was horrified at being touched in this way by a total stranger.
“Sit up,” the voice commanded. He was holding her with one hand and efficiently soaping her with the other. She could see better now. Her legs were streaked with filth. Her arms were black too. Brown water swirled down the drain. The loofah continued its efficient cleaning.
He leaned her against the wall. “Shampoo.” It smelled of herbs and stung her eyes. Once again the water running off her was dark.
How had she become so dirty? Was it all blood? The image of the back of that head exploding in front of her came back. It was so vivid that she half gagged.