The Psychonaut_Book 1

by Tom G. H. Adams

  “I see, so when I didn’t show last night, you thought I was ... ”

  “... just like the rest.”

  “No one could blame you. I should’ve called earlier but I was tied up in a ... business meeting.”

  She looked up at his hesitation. “High stakes stuff?”

  “The highest.”

  “There’s so much I don’t know about you. So much I want to know. But I know I can’t be pushy. I feel this connection with you. It’s like we communicate on another level. Am I crazy for thinking that?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with crazy. Some of my best friends are batshit. He kissed her again. “We’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other. I just need to sort out a few things before I reveal all.”

  “Don’t tell me. You work for MI6?”

  “Yeah, you got me,” he said, and pressed the end of her nose. He looked around, a conspirator’s expression on his face. “We’re on the trail of the Yakuza and my job is to turn you so we can get inside information.”

  She grabbed hold of a pillow and hit him over the head with it. “I’ve been duped,” she said, giggling.

  He threw aside the pillow and playfully pushed her down. Then, with unspoken consent they made love again.

  Much later, after Lotus had rustled them up an omelette each, they agreed to go out and meet her friends. He’d abandoned all thought of packing, and his impending removal to Karapetian’s home. He wanted to move closer into Lotus’ orbit. The collision of occult worlds could wait—he had his own stellar union to distract him.

  They jumped stepping stones of history with each other. Lotus spoke of her art and touched on the kleptomania that had affected her from childhood.

  “I don’t look on it as a condition or an illness,” she said. “I know I should feel guilty, but it inspires me. After a spree I can lock myself away for days and produce my best work. Besides, I hardly keep any of the stuff. My friends wonder how I can be so generous with my gifts.”

  He’d laughed out loud at this. Sharing a personal history was harder for him. He felt a moment of melancholy recounting how his father had left when he was young. Then cancer took his mother, leaving an aunt and uncle to adopt him during the teenage years. The job title, financial negotiator, seemed to satisfy her for the moment. Nonetheless, he felt fraudulent giving out such paltry morsels. They would have to suffice until he knew more about this enigmatic woman, and how she aligned with the tangent his new career was taking him.

  ~~~

  Chapter 13

  Caught in the middle

  They stepped out of her front door under a big yellow umbrella. The rain had poured over the last few hours and formed dark pools in the uneven tarmac. The sound of the gutters swallowing the sky’s torrent was almost deafening. In the end Merrick hailed a taxi and they rode the rest of the way into Soho.

  A queue of bedraggled clubbers, dressed in skimpy skirts or jeans, stretched along the street and round the corner of the Twisted Wheel. Two bouncers admitted small groups as others left, seeking their thrills elsewhere.

  “Looks like we’re in for a long, wet wait,” Merrick said. He paid the cabbie and they dashed across the rain-slickened street.

  “Just you watch this,” she said, and strode towards the front of the queue.

  “Whoa, hold on there, Missy,” said the shorter of the two security detail. Like her partner she wore a black Goretex slicker with the Twisted Wheel logo on the breast. “You’re going to have to work on your queue-jumping skills if you want to stand a hope in hell of getting past me.”

  “And you’re going to have to work on your people skills if you want that painting you commissioned ready for next week, Gabby.”

  The bouncer held her torch up and shone it into Lotus’ face. The beam made her wince.

  “Oh it’s you, Lotus. How long are you going to use that line to beg favours from me? The painting was due last month. I’m getting to think you’re holding out on me.”

  She turned to her partner revealing a serpentine tattoo on her neck as she did so. The ink was as black as her hair was blonde. “Sam, what’re the numbers like in there. Can we squeeze a couple more in?”

  Sam unclipped a walkie talkie from his belt and barked into it. He got an equally sharp reply. “Marty says they’re a hundred over fire regs already.”

  “In for a penny, in for a pound?” Lotus said.

  “Fuck it, in you go. But I didn’t see you, all right?” Gabbie said, and lifted the cordon for them. “I want the painting delivered Monday morning, okay?”

  “It’s a promise,” shouted Lotus as she pulled Merrick through a gaudily coloured door. Behind them they could hear a couple at the front of the queue protesting and Gabby giving short shrift.

  Merrick paid the entry fee and they offered the back of their hands for the stamp. Inside, a techno bass thump from the house PA assaulted their ears. Merrick felt it in his ribs more than hearing it in his ears. Strobes flickered across the bouncing throng and Lotus had to prise bodies apart as she sought to navigate across the floor. He closed his third eyelid to prevent sensory overload.

  She turned round to him and pressed her mouth to his ear. “My friends ... on ... upper level,” he heard. She pointed to a staircase lying beyond the writhing, sweaty mass and proceeded like an ice-breaker through them. Up on the balconied first level a group were seated on sofas arranged in an open square. He recognised Lapin, his arm draped over a flat-topped Brad Pitt lookalike. The disconnected synth bursts had reduced in volume to airhorn level up here, but it was enough for Merrick to hear Lapin shout a greeting. He got up and engulfed Lotus in a bear-hug. Merrick held out his hand, but the sculptor pulled him into an ardent embrace.

  “Let me get you both a drink,” he said. “This place mixes the best cocktails in Soho.” He swaggered over to the bar without asking what they wanted. Lotus, meanwhile, made some introductions. He didn’t hear most of them but nodded greetings in turn to a couple of girls with exotically-coloured hair, a dreadlocked white guy and a group of West Indians with sculpted beards.

  They sank into a leather sofa and Lotus spoke to the group in an animated fashion. They shared what he assumed were E’s but declined the offer of one from Dreadlocks. He felt as out of place as a monk in a brothel but tried to laugh in the right places. He was relieved when Lapin’s familiar face appeared above a tray of cocktails.

  “What are they?” he asked.

  “Cuban mojotos,” Lapin said, putting two glasses on the table. “Coconut rum and soda, garnished with lime and mint. Or if you fancy something with more punch then have one of these firecrackers.” He placed a deep blue drink in front of Merrick and raised a red zombie in a toast.

  “To Lapin’s pirate band of artisans,” he said. “May we all drink deeply of love and die young and beautiful.” They clinked their glasses together, splashes of coloured liquid falling on to the glass table. Merrick sipped his firecracker and welcomed the exotic warmth sliding down his throat.

  He’d barely taken a second sip when Lotus took him by the hand and led him down to the dance floor.

  “Hey you freaks wanna shake the house?” The DJ’s voice blared out of the PA. “Then welcome to the melting pot. Let’s hear you go crazy!”

  The crowd whooped in delight as another trance favourite was put on the turntable. Lotus held up her arms and swayed with the rhythm, her white crop top shining fluorescent in the UV. He watched her dance with an inane smile on his face, entranced by the sensual sway of her hips. He realised he must be moving with the grace of a marionette, complete with jerking limbs and epileptic spasms.

  “You dance like Barney the dinosaur,” she yelled.

  “I know—it’s a gift,” he replied.

  She laughed, and at that moment he saw her as Aditi, the Hindu sun-goddess—her smile the only sunshine he needed.

  As he moved with the rhythm of the crowd he opened up the iris of his third eye again. Amongst the e
xpected aphrodisiac scents he detected a jarring but familiar odour, experienced for the first time just that afternoon.

  He looked around but could only see an ocean of euphoric faces. Then, over by the entrance, he saw a baleful glare on a face—Sarlic. Radice and Theta flanked him as he pulled two revellers apart and strode towards him.

  “Lotus,” he shouted in her ear. “We have to go.”

  She looked at him, brow furrowed and cupped a hand to her ear.

  “Now—we have to leave now,” he yelled, louder this time. He yanked her off the dance floor more roughly than he would have liked, and pushed his way up to the cocktail bar. Behind him the Ukurum were closing in.

  They found Lotus’ friends laughing and joking.

  “Lapin,” he shouted, “is there a back way out?”

  Lapin could see the concern on his face. “Follow me,” he replied.

  “What’s the hurry?” Lotus protested.

  “Just trust me,” he replied.

  “But I was just getting into the party.”

  “Believe me, the party is getting a little too interesting.” He looked over his shoulder and saw the three pursuers clearing the top step of the balcony area.

  “Over here,” said Lapin, holding an exit door open. They stepped through into a dimly lit, cobbled backstreet. Large overfull dumpsters lined one wall and dribbled their refuse onto the ground. The rain fell so hard it stung the face like needles.

  “Those freaks. I take it they’re not on your Christmas list?” Lapin said.

  “They forgot my birthday so I deleted them,” Merrick replied. “Which way? They’re right on our heels.”

  “Up here.”

  They ran towards the main street as they heard the fire escape door slamming open behind. As they approached the junction a figure stepped out of the darkness. The light of the street ahead threw a long shadow from her headdress as she stood legs apart.

  “Does she have a sister?” said Lapin. “I thought that was her back in the club.

  Merrick didn’t answer. He was looking at what Theta held in her hand. Three long chains snaked to the floor from a steel hilt. Barbed spheres tipped the ends, their points glinting in the light.

  “She moves fast,” he said under his breath.

  “Who are they, and why are they after you?” Lotus said, her eyes wide.

  “I only met them this afternoon,” said Merrick. “As to why they’re after me—fuck knows.” He looked back and saw the remaining two Ukurum walking, almost nonchalantly in their direction.

  “Whyte,” Sarlic spoke, his baritone voice reverberated off the alley walls. “Forgive me if I don’t call you Merrick. We won’t have time to get to know each other on a first name basis. Don’t bother asking what I want with you, I think it’s pretty obvious.”

  A whirling noise started as Theta swung the modified morning star around her head. Sarlic pulled out two metal discs edged with large, vicious teeth.

  Merrick had received a hiding years before, after a contretemps with a cuckolded skinhead. He swore he’d take up martial arts lessons as a result, but it was an aspirational target he’d let fall through the cracks of his busy life.

  “Now look here,” he said, playing for time. “You know that we’re under Karapetian’s protection. He won’t take kindly to you threatening us.”

  “Who’s Karapetian?” asked Lotus.

  “Not now. I’m trying to think,” he said.

  Sarlic raised one of the discs, holding it like a frisbee. “Karapetian doesn’t take his charge of you seriously, otherwise he wouldn’t let you out of his sight.”

  Merrick heard a beeping noise next to him. Glancing sideways he saw Lapin punching three digits into his phone in rapid succession.

  “Emergency—yes. I want the police.”

  Merrick only remembered hearing the disc. It rang as it left Sarlic’s hand. A split second later it buried itself in Lapin’s neck making a sound like a cleaver chopping into a butcher’s joint. Lapin was thrown to the ground. His mobile scattered across the cobbles.

  “Lapin,” Lotus cried. She crouched over him, her hands over her mouth.

  Merrick spread himself wide, trying to shield Lotus from Sarlic’s assault, but he couldn’t cover her from Theta’s approach behind. He saw the determination in her eyes as she swung her arm in an arc. The flail whipped through the air. By sheer reflex, Merrick threw himself at Lotus, rolling over with her until they came to rest at the foot of a dumpster. The spiked balls swished down against the rain-soaked cobbles, sparks flying.

  Sarlic stepped over Lapin’s body. The blood formed crimson rivulets in the runnels of the alley as the rain mingled with it in a sanguine flow. “I wish I could make this more painful, but I’m under orders to dispatch you swiftly.” He pulled out a bowie knife. Merrick could see the dark intent in his eyes. He knew there would be no hesitation.

  The third eye was open wide. In Merrick’s mind he felt an involuntary surge, like magma boiling up through a vent. It erupted from him in a plume, coiling towards the Urukum lieutenant. Sarlic dropped the knife and brought his hands up to the side of his head. He cried in agony, twisting and writhing as his sodden hair flung round like a bead curtain. He staggered back into Radice, who had the presence of mind to catch him in his arms.

  Lotus’ face was a mask of incomprehension. Merrick could hardly see through the curtain of rain running into his eyes, but he heard the sound of Theta’s heels on the cobbles. The Ukurum swung the flail around her head. As it accelerated round again, she let go of it and collapsed to the ground. Standing behind her was Gabby. Taser wires rose out of Theta’s back as she shuddered on the ground.

  “Eat 50,000 volts bitch,” Gabby muttered. Her partner ran up behind, followed by the sound of sirens.

  Dropping Sarlic to the ground, Radice leapt an impossible distance across the alley. He landed in front of Gabby, growling at her as he ripped the electrodes from Theta’s back and lifted her up.

  “What the f—“ was all Sam could say as the Ukurum carried Theta off down the alley. Sarlic, still holding hands to head, stumbled after them.

  “Don’t just stand there,” said Gabby. “Follow them. Motherfuckers have sliced Lapin.”

  “You gotta be kiddin’,” Sam replied, “did you see the size of that bastard? He must hold the world record for the long jump too.”

  Headlights flooded the alleyway as two patrol cars screeched to a halt.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” Merrick said.

  “We can’t leave now,” Lotus replied, Lapin’s badly hurt. He needs us.”

  Merrick looked down and sighed. “Okay, I’m just not sure how I can explain this situation.”

  “Nobody move,” shouted a policeman in a fluorescent jacket. He had drawn a baton in one hand and a torch in the other. Other officers swarmed round, assessing the situation.

  “You with the taser. Drop it!”

  Gabby complied. “The bad guys are getting away,” she said, you need to hot-foot it after them.”

  The lead officer nodded his head at two others. “Take the car and run them to ground. Bill, Mark—follow them on foot. They can’t get far, Security here just tasered one of them. Hey, I said no one move.”

  Lotus had crawled over to Lapin’s motionless body. “He’s not breathing,” she said. “For God’s sake someone, call an ambulance.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 14

  Holy diver

  The room was stuffy and smelled of new emulsion painted over the sweat stains of a thousand interrogations. A single neon tube spread its diffuse light on two detectives and their sole witness.

  Detective Inspector Greg Phillipson watched the suspect being interviewed with his head cocked to one side. To the casual observer the DI would have looked distracted and bemused, but those who knew him would tell you his mind was as fast as a gin trap. Those eyes took in every detail.

  Phillipson had allowed his junior, DS
Calvery, to lead. He felt it was time Calvery cut his teeth on a major case and with six months experience he wasn’t doing a bad job. Everything by the book of course—he wouldn’t expect anything less. But Phillipson knew that interviews hinged not so much on how closely you followed the rules, but on how much elasticity you could exact from the situation. Basically, what you could get away with. Whatever it takes to get the job done, was his motto. It had landed him in hot water a couple of times, but despite a 12 week suspension five years ago, it had served him well.

  Now this guy, Whyte, interested him. He was clean cut, well-groomed and the expensive suit he wore yelled executive gloss. His speech was clear and polite, and he wasn’t intimidated by authority. Yet he looked run-down. Burst capillaries traced across the whites of his eyes and he kept rubbing his face like he was trying to keep himself awake.

  No doubt strung out on a coke downer.

  It was the drug of the nouveau rich and he fit the mould. The brief background check he’d run revealed that Merrick Whyte was a negotiator and brokered deals in the boardroom jungle. Apart from that there was little information, but a couple of the grunts were digging a bit deeper. There was something else as well. Something in Phillipson’s professional gut told him he was hiding something. So he watched and listened.

  Merrick tried to rally his thoughts as Calvery executed the introductions and formalities professionally. He’d already pressed play on the recorder.

  “So, Merrick Whyte,” started Calvery. “Thank you in advance for your cooperation. We realise this evening has been quite traumatic for you and appreciate the time you’re giving.”

  Merrick took a sip of the cocoa he’d been given. It tasted like mud, but it was hot, and it was warm.

  The DS continued. “You’re here because you witnessed the murder of Gerry Salkeld—also known as Lapin. I want to talk to you about your relationship with the deceased and the events which led up to his death. Is that okay?”