The Deal (The Fallen Angel Series Book 1)

by S C Cunningham

  “Then why is the coffee machine still working?”

  Pyke went to his desk, pulled out an old laptop covered in superman stickers, dusted it off, and fired it up. It burst into life, giving Pyke a reason to smile.

  Maggie and Amy entered the station. Amy was filling Maggie in on the dog fighting ring. Maggie politely listened, but her mind was on other things. She took in the blank screens and darkness of the room.

  “What’s happening, Pyke?”

  “Someone is trying to close us down,” he replied, absentmindedly tapping away at his laptop. “But I’m getting back in the old-fashioned way. I’m so pleased I kept my old hacking mate. This laptop may be ancient, but it has all I need to fight back.”

  He sat scrunched over his laptop on the sofa, pummelling away on its tiny keyboard for five minutes whilst the others stood around him in silence. Maggie stared out at the sky, shaking her head. She had a clue about the problem and had a notion this was just the start unless she did as she was told.

  Amy made herself and Maggie a cup of tea. She carried the teacups over as Maggie stared into the distance.

  “Here, drink this.”

  “Thank you, Amy.” Maggie gratefully took the teacup and sipped the soothing liquid. She looked across at Amy.

  “You like it here, don’t you, Amy?”

  “Yes, I go through blips. When I feel overwhelmed by it all, I don’t know if we manage to make a difference. There is so much evil out there. But then, we do a good job and I feel it is the greatest job on earth…sorry…in the skies.”

  “You’re good, Amy. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of all my recruits. But you have it in you. Some don’t.” She turned her attention to Mara. “Some struggle, and I’m not sure how they got here.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. That means a lot to me.”

  “Sorry, if I bite your head off at times. If I give you shit, it means I like you. I know you can take it. It’s when I am polite that you have to worry,” Maggie replied, taking another sip of tea and watching the skies.

  “Someone is trying to close us down, Amy. There are power struggles up here, as there are on earth. Please know any decisions I make are for the good of the Unit.”

  “Well, yes, but what kind of decisions? Are you leaving us?” Amy looked over at her, concerned. “Is it something to do with the man that’s following us?”

  “I would never leave willingly. This is my manor and I intend to protect it for as long as I am right for the job.”

  “I’m in,” shouted Pyke from the sofa, punching the air. “Yes!”

  The lights flickered on overhead, machines bleeped into action, and the eight screens flashed with colour as the office came back to life, stirring a rowdy cheer from the team. Jack slapped Pyke on the back.

  “What was that all about, mate?”

  “Not sure. Someone has tried to block our systems, but they didn’t count for trusted Bessie here.” He tapped his laptop fondly. “She and I ruled the world once. And now she’s ruling the skies. I placed an added protective level to our system. They won’t get in again.” Pyke nodded with assuredness and looked around the room.

  “Cup of char, ma’am,” he shouted across at Maggie. But she was already walking out the door, making a call. Pyke returned to his duties, amused.

  “Someone’s gonna get an earful. Right, let’s get back to work.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  In the corridor outside the Unit office, Maggie paced, waiting for the call to connect, preparing for a battle.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I know that was you throwing your toys out of the pram. Back off.”

  “You are getting excited, woman, calm down.”

  “No…stop this now. You are jeopardising lives.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you have a fight on your hands.”

  “Oh, so you think good can beat evil, do you?”

  “Abso-bloody-lutely,” she said with more conviction than she felt.

  He laughed. “Didn’t have you down as naïve, Mags. Look around you. Greed, lust, and selfishness wins ’em over every time.”

  “For the weak maybe.”

  “For every one of them, Mags, and you know it.”

  “What happened to you, Greg? You used to believe in the fight. You were a good operative.”

  “Yeah, until politics and red tape got the better of me and I lost faith in who I was serving. Ya see, it gets us all.”

  “Bollocks, not me.”

  She heard a sigh at the end of the line.

  “No, I guess not. You always were a stickler for right and wrong. But you did bend the rules once, and I know all about it. I know your weak spot. I know a gentleman shouldn’t kiss and tell, but I want revenge. You will succumb. Meet me at our garden.”

  “Fuck off…”

  “Oh well, I tried,” his voice changed. His cold, hard resonance sent a chill through her. “So, we have a fight on our hands. Bring it on, Maggie…bring it on…then say goodbye.”

  “We don’t need to do this,” Maggie sighed.

  But he was gone.

  Maggie fell against the wall and held her face in her hands. She didn’t like to, she’d been putting it off, but it was time to speak to the boss. She would have to come clean. Her heart beat rapidly as she tapped her ear and waited for the call to connect.

  “I need to speak to the Commander, please.”

  “Yes, it’s bloody urgent.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Brighton, UK

  When Alice came around, her eyes opened to a dark empty room. He had gone.

  Naked, stretched out on the bed, the coarse mattress scratching her skin, she lay very still, listening to the muffled noises around her. She could hear classical music in the corridor outside her room. Her heart started to race.

  She recognized the signs and needed to stop the panic before it threatened to freeze her. She tried to relax, to gather her thoughts and work out what was happening, to figure out how to escape.

  She took a deep breath, trying to still the thumping in her chest. She needed to move.

  She got out of bed and stepped to the door. As she expected, it had been tightly shut. There was no handle, making it impossible to open. She banged on the door, crying for help.

  “Help…help! Is anyone there? Help me!” She pounded on the door repeatedly until her knuckles bled. No answer.

  Desperately, she turned to survey the dark, claustrophobic room and gently traced her sore hands along the walls, the floor, the length of the bed, and the bucket at the end of it.

  The room seemed to be covered in soft foam tiles to deaden the sound. Her breathing and heartbeat felt muffled and her throat began to constrict with anxiety.

  “Help…help...please,” she screamed. “Help me.”

  But to no avail. No one answered.

  The acoustically shielded room stifled any sound emanating from her throat and hid any trace of resonance. She lay on the bed and wept. She didn’t recognise her own voice.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Cloud 9

  Amy walked into the office with a renewed bounce in her step. Meeting Connor had cheered her up, given her strength. She was in a light-hearted mood and ready to go. Is it bad to prefer animals over humans?

  Occupying the sofa, Pyke and Mara chatted. Mara displaying way too much leg in short skirt and stilettos. Amy waved a cheerful “hello”, prompting Pyke to hop up and attend his screen. Mara pouted, miffed with the interruption.

  Amy had no sympathy for her and rather savoured her obvious discontent. Fuck her.

  “Pyke,” she smiled. “What’s next on the agenda?”

  “I’m working on a fraud scam where oldies are being conned out of their pensions. I may need you to follow a suspect when he collects a pensioner’s payment.”

  “No worries. Hey, do animals do the same as us?”

  “Yes,
of course they do. They’re awesome. They share the planet with us. It’s so cool having them around. We could learn a lot from them. They have further advanced organisational skills than we do, and there are more of them. Our paths don’t normally cross. They tend to sort out their own shit. That was cool you worked with Connor, it’s a compliment. He’s been around a while, he’s a bit of a hero up here.”

  When Jack walked in, Mara stood up and brushed down her tight mini-skirt. She flashed dark coquettish eyes at him and finger-twizzled her long hair, trying out her best sexy moves. But he didn’t notice as he was too busy scanning the office for Maggie. She skulked back into her seat.

  Amy smiled to herself, chalking up another irritating moment for Mara and went about making tea, humming one of her favourite songs by the band ‘Hot Chocolate’…‘I believe in miracles… you sexy thing’.

  “Where’s Maggie?” Jack walked over to Pyke.

  “Not sure, maybe talking to that guy.”

  “Who is he? Did you scan his face?”

  “Yep, I’ve been running facial recognition software on him. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  Pyke stepped in close to Jack, out of the women’s earshot.

  “She was rattled, Jack. What happened?”

  “I think he’s the guy Amy was talking about. I asked him why he was following us, and all he said was Maggie would know. Can you do some research on him? I don’t like it. He’s a cocky little fuck for an old boy, a snappy dresser, a suave old gent type. But, not being funny, he smells bad, real bad. He smells dead…I mean dead, dead…really long-term rancid dead.”

  “Shit, he might be one of them.”

  “What, one of them.”

  “One of those from below ground…a Witness. They use smoke to disguise their rancid smell. What the hell is he doing here? How did he get in?”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Alice

  Brighton, UK

  The first time he came for her, Amy was grateful for the company. She had lain in her bed, naked, for what seemed like three or four days but difficult to be certain without windows. The hours tended to melt into one long fitful nightmare. The food delivered through the door served as the only measurable passage of time. Every few days or so, a panel at the bottom of the knobless door would slide open and someone pushed a tray of bread and bottled water into the room.

  Whoever placed it there did not say a word and remained extremely quiet. Sometimes she would awaken to find the food waiting for her but hadn’t heard it being delivered. Within minutes she would devour the bread, always hungry with such few offerings and miserly portions.

  Whenever classical music played, she recognised it as a signal he had entered the corridor. If she listened carefully, she could hear him humming as he passed her door. She wanted to bang on the door and shout for help, but the fear of his fist in her face stopped her. Along with his humming she could hear a strange squeaking sound.

  Then it was her turn. He opened the door and stood watching her. She’d been sleeping in the foetal position in her bed, curled up tight. She’d not heard him coming down the corridor, nor the thud of the bolt opening her door. The slam of the door banging against the wall broke her dream.

  “Wakey, wakey. Rise and shine, dear. It’s time to pay for your keep.”

  He waved his hand across his face, scrunching up his nose.

  “Pooh, dearie, you smell!” He pinched his nostrils. “We will have to correct that.”

  Behind him stood a small Asian man dressed in pale blue scrubs, as if ready for surgical theatre. The Asian nodded at her and pulled a wheelchair into view, waving his hand for her to get into it.

  “Don’t worry. This is Jojo. He’s deaf and dumb. He can’t hear you and he can’t speak to you. Just pretend he isn’t there. He’s my little helper.”

  “What’s happening?” Her voice rumbled with a huskiness she found disturbing.

  “Oh, you’ll see. Because it’s your first time, we will be lenient on you. But if you misbehave, we will be harsh on you. Your call.”

  “Who’s we? First time for what?” she whimpered.

  “You’ll see…but first let’s get you showered.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands covering her private parts. He laughed at her.

  “Oh, don’t worry about us, dearie. We’ve seen it all. No modesty here. I’ll be naked in a minute, so you’ll feel more comfortable. Now chop-chop.”

  Jojo skipped into the room and helped Alice walk to the wheelchair. He strapped her arms and legs snugly in position to prevent her from escaping during the journey.

  Her captor walked ahead, humming to the music. Jojo and Alice trundled behind, the chair’s wheels squeaking as they turned. She could now identify the squeaking sound she always heard.

  They entered the lift, the same one she’d used when he’d tricked her into coming here. She had to shut her eyes as the bright light stung them and made them water. The lift descended one floor, and as they exited, her captor went off to the left, shouting instructions at Jojo to have her ready in twenty minutes.

  Jojo turned right and pushed her into a large washroom with a row of showers. The light blinded her again. She winced through scrunched lids to analyse her surroundings.

  Jojo put brakes on the wheelchair, undid her bindings and pulled her into the standing position. She stood shivering, her arms covering her nakedness.

  He pushed her towards a shower head and lined her up beneath it. His hands were hard and sinewy. She sensed he had the strength of an Ox. There was no way she could fight him. She stood like a malleable child, obediently waiting to be bathed.

  Jojo washed and prepared her. After her initial nerves of embarrassment in having another man touching her body, she got used to his attention and let him get on with it. The warm water felt good on her skin.

  He showed no interest in her. He didn’t say a word and didn’t seem to notice when he scrubbed a sore part of her cheekbone and she cried out with pain.

  He washed, brushed, and dried her hair. She stood quietly as he worked around her, eyeing the door to estimate an escape route, but a passcode pad accompanied each one. She spotted a pair of hair scissors in an open cupboard above the sink and thought about taking it, but had nowhere to hide it on her person.

  Jojo spun her around, checking her overall appearance, smiled and waved for her to sit back in the wheelchair. She had no choice but to obey.

  He strapped her in and pushed her out of the bathroom, down a long dark corridor to a large wooden door at the end. She could hear music coming from the other side of the door. Not classical, but soft gentle soulful measures like a ballad or love song.

  Jojo stopped the chair a few feet from the door, undid her straps and motioned for her to stand up. She obeyed, her heart beating loudly. Jojo knocked loudly on the door. A voice shouted, “Enter.”

  Jojo tapped in the passcode and pushed the door open. Alice held her breath. A large plush red room spread out before her; soft lighting, cushions, sofa’s, armchairs scattered the length of the walls. In the middle of the room lay a black plastic sheet.

  As her eyes adjusted to the light, ten naked men stood up and paraded towards her, each smiling, each holding onto his cock, fumbling, rubbing it into life.

  Her captor stepped between them, put out his hand, took hers, and led her onto the plastic sheet.

  “Welcome, Alice, and come meet my friends,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

  “They have been longing to meet you. I’ve told them so much about you.”

  Her heart raced, she couldn’t speak. She looked back over her shoulder as Jojo closed the door behind her, tears staining his cheeks and glistening in his eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The Knightsbridge Club, Kensington Apartments,

  Knightsbridge, London, UK

  Jack patrolled the back of the imposing block of flats, Kensington Apartments. The private Knightsbridge Club took over the ground floor and b
asement of the block. Taking two steps at a time as he ran up to the Club’s grand entrance.

  Standing guard at the front door, a burly, bald-shaven, square-jawed giant of a man spoke Russian into his headphone. His uniform aligned more with armed Police than that of a doorman.

  He didn’t see Jack run up the steps and through the closed door into the marbled reception hallway. Mara, following closely behind, teetering on stilettos and tugging on her short skirt, took a moment to appreciate the guard’s rugged good looks. Not able to resist, she ran a teasing fingertip across the skin of his powerful neck, causing him to shiver, and not understand why. Oh my, the things I could do to you.

  She sashayed on through the closed door and caught sight of Jack striding down a long dark corridor, talking to Pyke. She caught up to him. She hadn’t seen him in action before. It made him even more attractive. She wanted him all the more. He was all action-man assertive, strutting his stuff, taking in his surroundings and assessing what needed to be done. Very sexy.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Jack shouted at Pyke, reaching the end of the corridor, passing through a locked door, and descending stairs to a basement.

  “Well, since it seems you and Amy are having a ‘moment,’ we thought she should stand in for this one. Also, Amy can’t be trusted to behave accordingly. This job will make her angry, whereas Mara doesn’t seem to mind and remains calmer.”

  “That’s because Mara couldn’t give a toss. She’s a selfish bitch with zero empathy. I don’t need anyone with me on this. It’s just one deactivation, isn’t it? Simple.”

  “Maggie’s orders, mate. Mara needs to learn.”

  “She dressed like a tart, what the fuck…” Too late. Pyke had gone.

  He entered a reception area furnished with black leather sofas, walls painted black, and lighting subdued. Seven men sat waiting. Scantily clad waitresses served drinks. A receptionist took the men, one at a time, down another set of stairs into a dark dungeon.

  Jack paused in the doorway, taking in the scene unfolding at the bottom of the stairs. A wooden walled room stood in the centre of the basement. Spotlights circled the room, shining on the wood, highlighting large symmetrically spaced holes, placed at hip height running the length of each wall.