The Hidden Eye

by Oliver Davies

  He said something to Alexis, and she opened the car’s back door. He pushed her inside without his aim ever wavering, and then he yanked his own door, easing himself inside. There was enough of a break in his concentration that I launched myself out from behind the parked car and ran across the street. I didn’t know what I was going to do once I got there, especially without a weapon, but I had to try.

  Rather than try and shoot at me again, Kingston slammed his door and revved the engine. He got it into gear and moving just as I reached it, and I snatched at the door handle, finding it locked. I bumped into the car, Kingston leering up at me from the driver’s seat, and then I had to leap back as he accelerated and almost crushed my foot under a tyre.

  I yelled a curse after the car, pausing for only a second before I jabbed a finger at my own vehicle. Fletcher had jumped out from behind the wall to follow me into the street, so she was only a few steps behind, and we threw ourselves into the car. I took a breath, trying to stop my limbs from trembling so that I could find the clutch properly without stalling.

  Then we took off after Kingston’s taillights, bright and red in the dark night like blood smeared across skin, siren blaring. I stuck in the low gears as long as I could, milking the acceleration until the engine began to whine too loudly, only then did I reach for the gear stick.

  “I know this isn’t the time,” Fletcher said, breathing heavily as her leg bounced. “But you really shouldn’t do that to your car.”

  I took my eyes off the car in front of us just long enough to glare at her. “Not helpful,” I snapped, tension making my words harsher than they would usually be.

  I flipped the siren on for five seconds. It wouldn’t stop Kingston, but maybe it would keep the other late-night drivers out of our way. I couldn’t decide if it would be better to try and stop Kingston on the road or follow him to his destination, if he did have a destination.

  Suddenly, Kingston’s car cut to the right, just in front of the vehicle in the oncoming lane, timing it so that I couldn’t follow him right away and instead had to wait for two cars to pass. Kingston used my delay to pick up speed, increasing the distance between us, so that I accelerated hard and fast.

  “I think he’s headed towards the MacPherson estate,” Fletcher said. She had her phone open and was checking the GPS.

  “Seems like that would be the last place he would want to go,” I said.

  “Maybe he’s trying to throw us off?” Fletcher suggested.

  “Call Dunnel. Tell him to send backup to the estate.” Dunnel had given me shit for not calling for backup on our last big case, so I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  Fletcher nodded and pulled up Dunnel’s number in her contacts. The phone rang and rang, but I was more focused on keeping Kingston in my sights. The man was a superb driver. He ducked around corners at the last possible second, making it impossible to guess where he was going to go next, and he wove in and out of the opposite lane to pass slower-moving cars. I kept my siren on, hoping people would get out of the way, but no one seemed to get the message.

  “Dunnel, we need backup at the MacPherson estate,” Fletcher said, though her voice sounded rather dim in my ears as if she were talking at the other end of a wind tunnel. “We think the killer is headed there. We’re in pursuit. He’s got a hostage and firearms.”

  I couldn’t hear Dunnel’s reply, but after a moment, Fletcher hung up and tossed her phone onto the dash. “And if they don’t get there in time?” I asked. It was getting harder to drive through the pounding in my ears as my heart rate jumped higher and higher than seemed humanly possible.

  I drew close enough that I could see Alexis’s face through the back window. She was turned towards us, hands on the glass, mouthing something that I couldn’t quite make out. Then Kingston slammed on the brakes, his car lurching in place, and I hand to yank the wheel to the side to avoid ploughing right into the back of the car. We skewed to the side as I fought to keep control and not crash into a parked car on the other side of the street.

  Fletcher cursed, hand clenched around the handle on the roof--the oh-shit handle, as she liked to call it. I spun the wheel the other way and barely avoided the collision, red and blue lights spilling erratically across the streets as I swore in tandem with Fletcher. The car coming towards us honked, and I honked back, tweaking the siren for good measure.

  I swerved back into the correct lane, but by the time I’d corrected course, Kingston had pulled ahead, and I lost his headlights amidst the crowd of four cars up ahead. He had slowed to match their speed as well, hoping to hide from us for a little bit.

  “That one,” Fletcher said and pointed at the beige car near the front.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. It wasn’t that I doubted her, but three of the four cars looked incredibly similar.

  She hesitated. “I think so,” she said. I pulled up as close to the little flock of cars as I could, siren and lights blaring, and three of them pulled off to the side just like a civilian would while the fourth kept moving, the beige car that Fletcher had singled out.

  She turned her head to examine the contents of the cars that had stopped. “Shit!” she yelled as we passed the final one, and I snapped my head around in time to see Kingston smirking out the window at me.

  That sneaky little bastard.

  I hit the brakes as hard as I could, tyres squealing on the pavement, struggling to keep myself in place as my whole body tried to launch itself out the windshield. In the rear view mirror, I watched as Kingston swung in a smooth circle and started back the way we’d come. Thankfully, the civilian cars stayed where they were, wide eyes and pale faces watching as I wrenched us through the fastest three-point turn in history. I was certain I left big, black tyre marks on the pavement as I peeled out after Kingston once again.

  “Who the hell is this guy?” I wondered. His skill was almost uncanny.

  Fletcher watched the map on her phone as I tried to catch up with Kingston. “If he really is headed for the MacPherson estate, I might have a way for us to cut him off, but if we’re wrong about his destination…”

  “Let’s do it,” I said. It was a risk, but it was one I was willing to take. I was a little worried that our backup wouldn’t reach the estate in time.

  “Okay. Turn…” she hesitated, studying the map. “Here.” She pointed to the left, and I followed her order, turning onto a narrow side street.

  “And take the fourth right,” she said. “That should take us right into his path.”

  We counted off the roads together until we reached the fourth, and I made the turn. We could only hope that we could time this right. Kingston’s car flashed past when we were less than a meter from intercepting him, and I didn’t have enough time to make the turn and follow him, so I went straight through the junction, Fletcher trying to pull up an alternate route on her phone.

  “Take us right to the estate,” I decided. It was obvious we weren’t stopping Kingston on the road.

  Fletcher didn’t even bother to try and get back on Kingston’s tail. She looked up the fastest route to the MacPherson estate, surprised when she saw that we were only a half a mile away.

  When we arrived a few minutes later, the gate was shut, and Kingston was nowhere in sight. Neither was our backup. I stopped right in front of the iron-wrought fence, blocking the way. There was no one in the little hut to let us in, the console inside dark and still. We climbed from the car, and I checked behind us for any sign of approaching headlights.

  “Tyre tracks,” Fletcher said and pointed through the bars of the gate.

  I couldn’t tell if they were fresh or not. “We need to find a way inside,” I said. “Even if Kingston isn’t here yet, it’ll be better if we wait for him inside.”

  “And if he’s not coming here?” Fletcher asked.

  “Let’s hope we’re not wrong.”

  I approached the fence. The bars were too close together to squeeze through and too slick to climb even if they weren’t t
opped by actual spear points. I rattled the gate even though I knew it was a fruitless gesture. The thing didn’t even budge.

  I heard leaves rustle just beyond the fence, and I tensed, reaching for my pocket knife as Fletcher lifted her baton slightly from its place on her belt. Bee MacPherson appeared in the beam of the headlights, hurrying towards us with her arms wrapped around herself. “Inspectors?” she called as quietly as she could.

  “Bee? What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded. I would think this was the last place she would want to be.

  “I just... I thought I could keep an eye on things.” She stood only inches from me, the black iron bars between us, and I could see the worry splashed across her face.

  “Did a beige car come through here?” Fletcher asked. She was still looking back down the road, making sure we weren’t about to get jumped.

  “Yes. Maybe two minutes ago. It went right up to the estate.” She pointed rather unnecessarily up the long drive towards the hidden building.

  “Can you let us in?” I was still gripping the fence posts. I found that I couldn’t let go. It was as if my fingers were welded to the metal.

  Bee nodded and pulled out her phone. With the tap of a button, the gates swung open, admitting us into the dark belly of the beast once more.

  Sixteen

  We decided to leave the car outside, hoping that we could approach silently and gain ourselves a modicum of surprise. We jogged up the long drive, and it took much longer than I was expecting, and my stomach curdled more and more with each second that slipped away. We were losing time that Alexis didn’t have. I could only hope that MacPherson would want to question her first.

  We stopped at the edge of the trees, hiding in the shadows to take a look at the estate. Only a couple of windows were lit up--MacPherson’s study and another on the opposite side of the building, a bedroom, maybe. There was no one out on the grounds, but Kingston’s car was parked just beside the stairs up to the front door, the back door thrown open but the seats empty.

  “I can let you in the side door,” Bee said. She motioned for us to follow her, and the three of us skirted around the edge of the trees away from the building’s main entrance. “Then there’s a hidden staircase that will get you right to the door of my father’s study.”

  “A hidden staircase, really?” Fletcher said with a little smirk on her lips.

  Bee shrugged. “My family is very overdramatic.”

  “That’s for sure,” I agreed.

  We left the cover of the trees and ran for the side of the building where Bee said the door was. We all crouched, bent almost double, as if that would somehow help us remain unseen if a MacPherson glanced out the window. Fletcher and I flattened ourselves against the wall while Bee pulled a ring of keys from her pocket.

  “You stay out here,” I said to her, making sure she looked in my eyes and understood that I was serious.

  “No argument from me,” she agreed.

  She got the door open and held it for us as we snuck inside. The lights in the little corridor were dim and Bee poked her head inside to point us towards the entrance to the hidden staircase. It melded into the walls, its seams barely noticeable against the pattern of the wallpaper. When I pressed on it, something clicked inside, and I was able to push it open, revealing a set of narrow, carpeted steps.

  “I want a secret staircase,” Fletcher muttered, and I had to agree with her. It was pretty cool, even if the MacPhersons were a bunch of power-hungry monsters.

  I gave Bee a look, and she nodded and closed the door behind us. I hoped she would leave the estate entirely and get somewhere safe.

  Luckily, the carpeted steps were silent, and we crept up them all the way to the top floor, pausing at the door there. I pressed my ear against the wood, hoping I would be able to hear if there was someone standing out in the hall. There was nothing but the thrum of my heart in my ears.

  I glanced back at Fletcher to see if she was ready. She motioned for me to go for it, and I cracked the door open, peeking out into the hall. It looked empty and silent, so I nudged my way out of the staircase. We found ourselves only five feet from the familiar door to MacPherson’s office, and I held a finger to my lips as Fletcher followed me into the hall. I could already hear the hum of raised voices, though I couldn’t make out the exact words.

  Fletcher shut the door behind us, and it blended back into the wall. If I hadn’t known it was there, I never would have noticed it--and I didn’t, when we were here earlier. The rug deadened our steps as we edged our way towards the door. It was cracked slightly, and I pressed myself into the wall and leaned forward so I could press my eye to the opening, praying that MacPherson and Kingston wouldn’t be able to spot me spying. Fletcher stood on the other side of the door, and though she couldn’t see inside, her brow was furrowed as she concentrated on listening. I handed her my pocket knife to cover us, bending closer to the gap.

  I couldn’t see much of anything in the office. Just a slice of MacPherson’s desk, Kingston’s back, and Alexis kneeling before him. Thankfully, MacPherson moved into the frame. He looked positively irate. His brow darkened his eyes, and his lips were like a gash across his face, two splotches of colour high on his cheeks.

  “Why would you bring her here?” he demanded, gesturing sharply at Alexis. Her head was bowed, and she was as still as a statue, trying to become as small and as unobtrusive as possible.

  “Where the hell else would I go?” Kingston snapped. He’d dropped the respectful bodyguard act, and from his tone, he didn’t seem to think much of his employer.

  “You were supposed to deal with her in her flat like all the others,” MacPherson said, and Fletcher held up her phone, wiggling it to catch my attention. She was recording everything. Hopefully, the microphone would be able to pick up the conversation even from a distance. “So it wouldn’t be tied back to us.”

  Kingston snorted, and his back shifted as he crossed his arms. “It’s already tied back to you. Need I remind you that you had the police in here not five hours ago?” His voice dropped, but it was still audible. “I should have cut and run the moment they showed up.”

  “But then you wouldn’t have gotten paid,” MacPherson said smugly. Kingston’s shoulders were tense. He clearly wasn’t happy. “Those pesky DIs are no doubt right behind you. Deal with them while I handle your mess.”

  “Just so I’m clear. Do you want me to kill them?”

  MacPherson gave Kingston a flat stare while my heart stuttered to a halt in my chest. I glanced towards Fletcher, and she had the same panicked look in her eyes. I jerked my head back towards the hidden staircase, and we tiptoed away from the office door. This time, though, the wall panel wouldn’t open when I pressed on it.

  I mouthed a curse, barely keeping it silent as I tried to trigger the door release three more times. It remained resolutely shut, and then Kingston came out of the office. The three of us froze for a second, like a still shot of an old cartoon as we blinked at each other. Fletcher had my knife in her hand and Kingston’s gun was holstered, and so the standoff turned into a Western showdown as they both tried to move before the other.

  A flash of silver and a gunshot span across the space, but I couldn’t tell who had hit who until blood blossomed from Kingston’s shoulder, and the blow knocked his aim off, his gunshot ploughing into the ceiling above our heads as he dropped the weapon. Dust sifted into my hair.

  Kingston cursed and grabbed the shoulder of his wounded arm with his other hand, his face contorted with pain and rage. Fletcher’s hand had dropped as if she was surprised that she hadn’t just been hit, and she raised it again, kicking the gun to the side as she reached for her handcuffs. Kingston grimaced and ducked back inside MacPherson’s office, slamming the door.

  “Are you okay?” I asked Fletcher, and she nodded breathlessly, eyes wide, and retrieved the knife. Her phone rang, Dunnel’s name on the caller ID, but there was no time to answer it. I could hear MacPherson shouting from inside his offi
ce. We had seconds to act before he killed Alexis to spite us, if nothing else.

  We ran for the door, and I slammed my shoulder into it. It jolted, but didn’t move, two shadows moving under the door frame. I picked up Kingston’s gun and aimed it at the lock, firing at the door. I heard someone yelp, in surprise more than pain, and I rammed the door again just at the same moment.

  It popped open, spilling me inside. I almost collided with Kingston as he tried to move back towards the door, but he hop-skipped out of the way, still clutching his shoulder.

  MacPherson stood over Alexis with a tiny silver pistol pointed down at her head, glaring at us with absolute fury in his eyes. Alexis still knelt on the ground with her chin resting on her chest, her shoulders slumped and shaking slightly.

  “Don’t do it,” I said. “Just don’t.”

  But MacPherson seemed far past reason at this point. There was only thunder in his eyes and a sneer on his lips. Kingston already had another weapon, a smaller hold-out pistol, which he aimed it at me. Fletcher had the knife back in her palm, her angry glare warning him what would happen if he tried to take me out.

  I spotted movement behind MacPherson. I was the only one who saw it, and a moment later, Bee eased out from behind one of the bookshelves, a cricket bat clasped tightly in both hands.

  “There is no way out for you if you kill her,” I told him, speaking slowly, deliberately to hold everyone’s attention solely on me while I kept my gaze firmly on MacPherson’s face, trying to give no indication that I was stalling. I had Kingston’s first gun at the ready. “Don’t make this any worse for yourself than it already is.”

  “What’s four life sentences versus three?” MacPherson sneered. He waved his little pistol in the air, momentarily taking it away from Alexis’s forehead. “Do you know how many lawyers I employ? I can buy my way out of anything.”