The Deal (The Fallen Angel Series Book 1)

by S C Cunningham

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “How did you die?”

  “I fell onto a train track during rush hour.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t pushed?”

  “Don’t be stupid. Who would push me?”

  “Jack pushed you.”

  “Good God, woman, you would say anything to get Jack in trouble.” Amy shook her head with disgust.

  “He wanted to be near you, watching you from the skies wasn’t enough for lovelorn Jack.” The sarcasm dripped in her voice.

  “Shut up. You’re lying.”

  “Ask him.”

  “What…and cause more arguments? You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Am just saying, don’t trust him darhling.”

  Mara sashayed ahead, then flew up into the sky. Amy watched her leave. What a bitch.

  Chapter Thirty

  Alice

  Brighton, UK

  As the lift doors opened on the seventh floor of his apartment building, Dio gently guided her by the elbow, out into the dark passageway. The doors closed behind them. He stepped over to a panel of switches; she expected him to put the lights on, but no. He flicked a switch and classical music filled the air.

  “Do you like music?”

  “Errr…yes.”

  “Classical music?”

  “Err…not really. It’s not my thing.”

  He sighed. “Oh, you’ve so much to learn, Alice.”

  He walked down a long narrow corridor where doors lined either side; large black bolts kept them all closed while bright yellow luminous numbers shone on each.

  “Is this your office?” she asked, running along behind him, her nerves beginning to rattle.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you put the lights on, please? It’s very dark here.”

  “Sorry, the electricity is out.”

  “But the lift works and the musi—”

  “We’ve had power failure just in the corridor,” he interrupted. “Now,” he looked at the numbers on the doors. “Let’s find the records office, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

  He roamed on down the corridor. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light. The classical music crescendoed more dramatically. She stood still, straining her ears to listen. She thought she could hear other noises beneath the sound of stringed instruments and piano. It sounded like low cries, human cries.

  “What was that? Did you hear it?”

  “What?”

  “It sounded like someone crying.”

  “No, there’s nothing here. It must be the sound of those violins. Mozart is a legend, don’t you think?.”

  She continued to follow him as he hummed to the music.

  “I think I ought to leave now. I don’t want to bother you.” She stopped and looked back toward the lift, holding her bag tightly. “Maybe we can talk again on Monday when your office has had a chance to check their records. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “It’s my pleasure to help this poor girl and her mother.”

  He stopped at a door with the number 11 on it.

  “Come on. Here we are. We’ll have the information in a few seconds, and you’ll go home a hero,” he smiled, waving her to the door, his charming, friendly, handsome face seemingly excited about saving Maria. She believed him.

  “OK, but quickly please. I’ve a train to catch. My mum will be worried about me.”

  He pulled the bolt across the door with a loud thud and pushed it open. He yanked her arm and pushed her inside.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The River Thames,

  London, UK

  Maggie leaned on the wall and stood staring out over the River Thames at the MI6 offices, her old Secret Intelligence Services building. Memories of her time there flooded back. She smiled and shook her head at the worldly innocence she held in those days. They were fighting just the tip of the iceberg; they had no idea of the mammoth task to keep evil out.

  She smelt him before she heard him.

  “Looking good, girl. You haven’t changed.”

  Maggie turned to see a dapper gentleman in an exquisitely tailored black suit, puffing on a cigar standing beside her. His handsome chiselled features were torn with scars, his greying mane swept back, not a hair out of place. The stump of a cigar lay wedged in the corner of his generous, grinning mouth. He had an intelligent air about him, commanding eyes, regal nose, strong dimpled chin, and stubborn jawline. He was pleased to see her.

  “Gregori, I thought you were dead.”

  “I am.”

  “I mean dead, dead...you know.”

  “Thought or hoped?”

  “Hoped.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say to an old friend. We worked well together.”

  She looked down at his feet. His neatly laced spit-shine patent shoes glistened in the sun.

  “Still sporting the Derby tie, I see.”

  “You know me, obsessed with the detail, can’t let standards drop now, can we? Just because I’m deceased.”

  Maggie turned back to face the river, leaning with both elbows on the towpath wall. He stood beside her, close, their shoulders touching.

  Drunken revellers trundled along the path behind them, oblivious to the invisible couple.

  Maggie stared out at the water, biting her tongue, waiting to see what he wanted. It was hard to breathe. This man was the love of her life at one stage. She would’ve done anything for him. Standing so close was difficult.

  She looked across the water; something caught her eye in an apartment block to the left of the MI6 building. Two silhouette figures stood in the penthouse apartment window; one held what looked like a knife, the other stood ramrod still, scared to move. She tapped her ear and spoke to Pyke.

  “Send someone over to the penthouse at Vauxhall Towers, a male with a knife standing in the window, plus one other. Not sure what’s going on.”

  “OK, boss. On it.”

  “And Pyke, I’m out of contact for the next twenty minutes,” her voice sounded curt.

  “Are you all right, boss?”

  She cut the call.

  Gregori smiled at her, titling his head to one side, as if inspecting her face.

  “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,” he sighed. “You meet someone you haven’t seen in decades, someone you thought you’d successfully put away, someone back from the dead and you keep on working, carrying on as if nothing has happened. You are an amazing woman. I’ve always said that about you.”

  “What do you want? Get on with it; I’ve got work to do.”

  He shook his head.

  “Tut…tut. Nothing changes, Maggie. You always did put the job first. You never could relax or take time out. I don’t even think you know what time out means.”

  Maggie stood still, staring out across the water.

  “Twenty minutes…is that all you’re giving me…after all we’ve been through?” he whispered in mock horror.

  Silence.

  “Oh, I think you’ll give me more than that when you understand why I’m here.”

  A motorboat chugged up the river, stirring waves that rippled and slapped at the wall below. They stood in silence.

  “What? No quick retort? No swearing? You’ve changed, Miss Smithers; you’re not the brave, spunky, exciting girl I once knew.”

  Silence.

  Maggie held her tongue. The best way to deal with Gregori, the manipulator, was to give his as little attention as possible. She’d learnt that trick too late.

  “OK, you win. You never did waste words. It’s what I admired about you, loved about you, until you grassed on me. Aren’t you curious to know what happened, Maggie?”

  Silence.

  “Well, if you’re not going to talk, I’m off.” He doffed his forelock and started to walk away.

  “For fuck’s sake, Gregori, what do you want?”

  He turned back to face her.

  “I want us to talk.”

>   “Well fucking get on with it then.”

  He laughed and stood back beside her.

  “That’s my girl, the girl I know.”

  “For fuck’s sake, get on with it…”

  He turned to face her, his smiling handsome face, cutting to hard solemnity. As he leaned in close, she could smell the death on him. His voice hoarse, he whispered in her ear.

  “You know that I cannot let you carry on with the Unit, Maggie. I will have to tell.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Oh, I think you know.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Porto Antonio Piazza,

  San Remo, Italy

  Amy sat on the steps of a church and people watched. The feeling of failure overwhelmed her. There was so much to do. Were they fighting a lost cause? Everywhere she looked, questionable behaviour demanded attention, people needed help. Everywhere.

  Her conversation with Mara haunted her. Had someone pushed her?

  She hadn’t had time to think about it much. It had all happened so fast. Before she knew it, she’d been enlisted with the Unit and sent out to work. She had hit the ground running and hadn’t given her death much thought.

  Her gaze drifted to a man walking past, holding his wife’s upper arm a little too harshly, marching her in step to his walk, tell-tale bruises poking out from her wrist as her cardigan rose through the force of his grip.

  She looked past them, to a henpecked husband who trotted behind his wife, listening to her condescending remarks and belittling comments, just on the edge of snapping, wrapping his fingers around her throat.

  She turned her attention to a gang of boys trailing behind a timid pipsqueak from class, waiting for an opportunity to beat him up.

  She saw a businessman wandering home, drunk, in debt, in fear of giving the depressing news to his wife and five children, contemplating suicide.

  Behind him, a drug addict spotted his dealer and his heavies coming towards him, with no money to pay his drug debt. He resignedly stood still, dropped his head, and prepared for a beating.

  She watched a thug on his way to a dog fight, waving a stick and dragging his weather-worn, scarred dog across the road.

  She closed her eyes, and dropped her head into her hands, feeling utterly hopeless, there was too much to do. Questions scrambled her thoughts.

  Why was mankind so fucked up?

  How could they ever help all these people?

  Did Jack have real feelings for her?

  Had she been pushed?

  Mara had to go, but how?

  Was it OK to kill a fellow Fallen?

  A yelp caught her attention. She looked up to see the dog trying to escape his thug owner. The animal cowered, backing up, not wanting to go where he knew he would be torn to shreds in another fight, where men gambled and made money from the pain he and his opponent endured. Like Amy, he’d had enough. He sat on the ground, his owner beating him with a stick and dragging him by the neck. What the fuck, you bastard?

  Amy’s anger surfaced. She took a deep sigh, knowing she couldn’t ignore the man’s cruelty he dished out on his dog. She had to help. It was in her nature. No matter how daunting this world was, one small step at a time was all she could manage. Jack’s encouraging words rang in her head. The slightest ripples have a large effect.

  Jack, what the hell was going on there? How did he ever fall in love and marry that woman? She was something else. When they were in the child abuse den, she didn’t flinch at the sight of young boys being raped. She was one cold fish.

  Amy felt eyes on her. She looked to her right and saw a beautiful, large black German Shepherd dog standing, face on, looking straight at her. It can’t be. She looked around and over her shoulder to see if the dog was interested in something else, but it wasn't. It was looking at her. It can see me.

  The dog walked calmly over and sat down beside her. He watched the man and his dog. No one else noticed him. Maybe he was invisible, like her. Amy felt its soft coat stroke against her arm.

  She tenderly reached out and stroked its back; the dog leaned into her, enjoying the touch. A tag on its collar said the name ‘Connor’.

  “Hello, Connor. What brings you here?”

  She looked into his big beautiful eyes. He had one turquoise blue and one hazel. They stared right back at her, knowing, kind, calm, patiently waiting for her to understand what was happening. How come animals seem so much more evolved than us?

  A short, sharp yelp disturbed the moment. Amy and Connor looked up to see the thug kicking the dog to make it walk. The dog finally gave in and let itself be led down an alleyway.

  Amy stood up, anger boiling. For fuck’s sake, that bully needs sorting out.

  She started to follow the thug. To her surprise, Connor jumped up and joined her, trotting alongside, anxious to get to the pained animal. Amy put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. Should she tell him to sit, stay…but what harm could it do if he came with her? She smiled down at her new friend.

  “OK, boy, let’s go sort this bastard out. You bite his balls. I’ll rearrange his face.”

  She called it in to Pyke as they walked, he gave her instant authority. Cruelty to animals was often fast tracked.

  The two of them followed the thug down an alleyway.

  A few seconds later, more yelps and squeals reverberated between the buildings flanking the alley, but this time, the cries didn’t come from the dog but the owner. Concerned public called for help, leading the Police to uncovering a dog fighting ring.

  Pyke was pleased to tally more successes for the statistic boys.

  Once the police arrived, Connor gently licked Amy’s hand goodbye and trotted calmly on, patrolling his streets.

  Amy’s heart leapt. He had given her courage. She hadn’t thought about animals. Maybe there were more souls out there helping than she’d imagined. It didn’t seem so overwhelming. Maybe the deactivating business wasn’t fruitless after all.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Brighton, UK

  Alice stumbled with shock as he pushed her into the dark space. What was he doing? Before she knew it, they both stood in a small black room, eight feet by six feet, with a single bed down one side and a bucket at its foot. She squinted her eyes to adapt to the dim light in the windowless interior.

  He closed the door behind them and pushed her onto the bed.

  “Now, this is how it’s going to be, dear. No one knows you’re here. The walls are soundproofed, so no one can hear you. You’ll be mine to do with as I wish. If you do as I say, you’ll survive. If you don’t, you’ll die.”

  “What…what the hell is happening?” She jumped up trying to get to the door.

  With a brutish strength she didn’t expect, he lunged at her, grabbed her, and threw her back across the bed. Her head smashed against the wall, sending her back onto the floor, lying on her back.

  “Now please don’t make me mess up my suit, dear. Please, just do as you’re told. I’m in charge now. You don’t need to think about anything.”

  He sat on the bed and stared down at her. Pulling his shirt cuffs in line with the sleeves of his jacket, he brushed down his lapels.

  “You must know that I don’t like to repeat anything, dear. So, you have to learn to listen.”

  “Why am I here? What’s going on? Who are you?”

  “Probably your worst nightmare. You are now mine, to do with as I wish. Do as you are told and life will be easier for you. You’ll be given bread and water every morning. You’ll use the bucket as a toilet.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  He leaned over her and whipped the back of his hand across her face.

  “Take off your clothes. You’ll remain naked. The temperature is set to a comfortable warm setting. You’ll not be cold.”

  “You are a nutter. You can’t do this,” she cried, grabbing for her backpack, trying to get her phone.
He snatched the bag off her and threw it against the door.

  “Give me my bag back. You can’t do this.”

  He leaned towards her and smashed the knuckles of his right hand across her cheek bone. The pain seared through her body as she passed out.

  She learned that he could.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Cloud 9

  Mara sashayed into the office. Pyke had turned all the screens towards him, posed in the middle of his Stonehenge-esque circle, and rotated his gaze from one to the other. It was rare to find the uber-busy Pyke standing still. There was no one else in the office. Mara smiled and strode towards him.

  “The Thames apartment block was a false alarm,” she said. “The tenants are rehearsing and editing the script for a murder mystery weekend they’re running...not sure why it was called in, but hey, maybe the boss’s mind is on something else.”

  She squeezed between two screens and joined Pyke in the middle of his domain. He didn’t answer her. He just stood staring, running his hand through his hair, tapping his foot nervously.

  “You all right, Pyke?”

  She followed his eyes to notice the blank screens and how the office lighting was out, shedding a semi-grey light throughout the room.

  “Wow! What’s happened? You had a power cut?” She kinked her head to the side, thinking. “Do you get those up here?”

  Pyke ignored her, his eyes scrunched in concentration, his hand rubbing his jaw.

  “No, I guess not. So, what’s happened?” She tried to be helpful. “Try turning it all on and off to see what happens. That’s what I used to do with my laptop.”

  Pyke gave her a disdainful look.

  “Err, I guess not,” she grimaced, apologetically.

  Pyke tapped his ear, trying to get a call connection. Nothing happened. He tried again.

  Jack sauntered into the office, walking across to the kitchen area where he started to make himself a coffee. “How’s it going, Pykey boy?” he shouted across the room. Noticing Mara, his face hardened.

  “We’ve had a power cut,” announced Mara.