Strange Ways

by Gray Williams

  Any thoughts of simply doing it herself had been hindered by the fact that she didn’t know how she’d get access. They were dampened down further by the looks the other prisoners were giving her now that she’d been confirmed to be part of Harry’s crew. There had been fear in those eyes watching her, but anger too.

  Zoe smirked. ‘You sure are eager.’

  ‘Just hate to see a job done badly.’

  ‘I can understand that. Settle in and I’ll see you in the meeting room later. I want to hear how you landed Harry in prison.’

  ‘I’ll be out soon.’

  Zoe gave her a smile, looking the room over once more before heading out into the corridor.

  ‘Why did he do it?’ Amanda asked, making her pause. ‘Mallory. Why did he go after Karina?’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘Guess you’re learning by now. Mallory doesn’t need much of a reason for anything he does. If Karina did something to him in a dream, it would be reason enough.’

  ‘So why keep him around? What’s he adding to the group?’

  ‘Sometimes you need a psycho.’

  ‘Harry keeps him in check?’

  ‘Most of the time.’

  ‘Haven’t seen him a lot today.’

  There was a flicker across Zoe’s face, a truth being covered up. ‘He does this sometimes,’ Zoe shrugged. ‘Goes out.’

  ‘Seems like we could have really used him, today. Everything that’s going on.’

  ‘Yeah, well we’ve got you now, haven’t we? We’ll get it done. But if your other boss comes asking, my advice is you tell him Harry was with us the whole time.’

  The sun had almost set, the last aura of daylight fading as they stared at one another across the room.

  ‘No problem,’ said Amanda, turning to the bed.

  She listened as Zoe headed away, back down the corridor.

  Closing the door, Amanda took a breath before working her tongue around her mouth to find the scryball. She’d kept it there for so long she’d stopped feeling it and was relieved to find that the ward keeping it in place had held.

  Spitting it out into her hand, working quickly by the dying light, she hopped up onto the bed to reach the nearest window. From her pocket, she pulled a small knife she’d palmed while Zoe had been showing her the kitchen. Using the tip of the blade, she made the final cut to the ball’s surface, turning the series of notches from a scribble to a magical rune.

  Had it worked? No real way to tell. There was no vibration from the thing, no hint of any power. She tried smelling it but couldn’t work out if the scent she caught was magic, blood or metal. Maybe it was just too small. Maybe she’d fucked it up.

  Either way, she’d know in the next few minutes.

  Placing the scryball back in her mouth, she waited. The window offered a view of darkening clouds behind the nearby grass that shivered by the glass.

  Please let this be working, she prayed. Please let her blackmailer be late. If they were on the other end, unable to talk to her, cursing her for not getting the enchantment right or thinking she’d turned her back on the deal, then she’d never know it. She’d never find out what they decided to do to her daughter. She’d have to live here, trapped in hell with the likes of Harry and Mallory.

  Then she felt it, a hum in her back tooth, the sense of a presence behind her. She turned, but there was no one there.

  This was it. Now her whole body was trembling. Her nerves were suddenly making her feel nauseous and the fatigue was hitting her in a wave when she needed to be more alert than she’d ever been in her life.

  Reaching up, she touched the tips of her fingers against the window.

  Some of the sensation in the bearing stopped. She could feel the glass humming under her fingers, like it was passing electrical current. She tried not to think of Jonsey, bleeding from the eyes and ears, her whole body tremored apart.

  ‘I’m here,’ she said.

  ‘Have you done it yet?’ the voice was right in her ear, like the speaker was standing behind her. This was better reception than the last time. No longer filtered through another person, Amanda could hear it was a man’s voice. Amanda shifted uncomfortably, adjusting to this new information, a person she wanted dead slipping a little more into focus.

  ‘No. She’s missing. I arrived and the whole island was on lockdown. She had an altercation with one of the other prisoners and now she’s done a runner. She’s somewhere on the island. I’m doing what I can to make sure that I find her first.’

  There was a long silence, one that began to make her nervous that the ball had stopped working.

  ‘You were supposed to have it done by now.’

  ‘And I would have, if she was where she was supposed to be. You didn’t see this coming, how was I supposed to? I’m getting it done. Once she’s dead, she’s dead, so what does it matter if it’s a day late?’

  ‘It matters because…’ the words cut off. She could feel the man’s frustration.

  Be frustrated, you prick, she thought. You fucking deserve it.

  ‘What are you doing to get it done?’

  ‘There’s something in her room. Something only her friends know about. I get that, I’m hoping I can use it to find her. Then the job’s as good as done.’

  ‘I wish I shared your optimism.’

  ‘You don’t need it. You picked me for a reason. I do this, you let my daughter go, we never speak again. That’s all I want.’

  ‘I chose you because I heard that you’re a stone-cold bitch who will kill her own friends to save her daughter. I chose you because I heard you cut through problems. I’ve waited days for an update and now you’re here and you’re giving me excuses.’

  ‘I said I’m dealing with it. But there is something seriously fucked up going on here.’

  ‘I’m not interested in Fitzackley and his minions, I’m interested in Khurana. Get it done. If I hear from you tomorrow and it isn’t done, then there will be consequences.’

  The vibrations stopped. The presence disappeared. He was gone.

  Amanda resisted the urge to spit the ball across the room. Unctuous little prick. She could picture him better now she’d heard his voice, but what good did that do her? Her only choice was to keep going.

  But part of what he said had niggled at her. He knew about Fitzackley and Harry?

  Her door opened and it took everything Amanda had to not swallow the ball out of pure shock.

  It was Drummond, the warden’s deputy. Seeing her stood on the bed, he gave her a questioning look.

  Playing it casual, she stepped back down. ‘Can’t say it’s much of a view.’

  ‘Warden wants to see you,’ he replied. ‘Right now.’

  There was no one in the rest of the small facility that Harry’s crew called home. As they passed down the corridor, she could hear voices and music from behind one of the doors. It was where they had their television and meeting room, where they’d interrogated Karina’s friends.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Drummond, ‘they won’t even know you’ve gone.’

  ‘That’s good. But if you want me to keep doing this, you’re going to have to think of a better way. Coming up and demanding me invites speculation.’

  ‘This won’t take long. Come on, there’s a back way out, in case the warden needs to talk to Harry.’

  A short flight of stairs led up to a heavy steel door. It was already open, letting in a whisper of sea air. They emerged out onto the path that Zoe had described, a small track of trodden earth that wound its way through the trees. Their shadows pressed close around them, small bushes reached out to pluck at their clothes.

  Looking behind her, she could see where the large warded fence met the bunker’s concrete, closing off the main entrance from escape. Was this how Karina had escaped? Did the other prisoners even know there was a back way out?

  After so long in the city and in prison, Amanda had forgotten just how dark the world could be without the constant presence of street lamps. She’d for
gotten how precious moonlight and starlight could be, the light through the cloud brighter than she remembered possible.

  Drummond led the way, a torch on his chest illuminating the path ahead. She kept close to his heels, not wanting to get lost, but tried not to follow too closely. She wanted to peer up through the trees to see the stars looking back down at her.

  The last time she had seen them so clearly had been in Siberia, a rare glimpse into the infinite compared to the glazed night skies of London.

  Scowling, she felt the darkness shift around her, the momentary peace she’d felt swallowed by something far bigger. Flexing her hands, she could still feel the weight of the body they had thrown out into the frost-rimed woods that night. She thought of the friend that she had murdered to save her daughter, of the young woman she had maimed to the same end. Guilt reasserted itself into the heady mix that she couldn’t seem to shake, that she might not ever want to shake.

  She deserved all this, she reminded herself. This was all her fault. The guilt reminded her of that, she needed it to.

  She moved closer to Drummond, watching his back and looking neither left nor right.

  ‘How’s the search going?’ she asked.

  ‘Terrible. It’s like she just up and disappeared. Covered the whole island with dogs and men and nothing. Dogs found a scent east of here but didn’t lead to anything. Targeted the search there and… But we’ll find her. Small island still gives plenty of places to hide out. She’ll break cover eventually. Come sun-up we’ll be out there again.’

  ‘What about helicopters?’

  Drummond snorted. ‘Yeah right. Guess we just hope no one asks why we need them. Any other bright ideas?’

  ‘Have you tried an apple pie on the windowsill?’

  To her surprise, he laughed, and she left it there, taking that as a victory.

  It was perhaps fifteen minutes before they caught sight of the White House ahead, its courtyard bathed in the light of a dozen spotlights.

  With no sign of trepidation, Drummond led her straight to the front door and showed her inside.

  It was deserted. Lights flickered on along the sterile corridor, triggered by their arrival. The corridor was long, white and clean, the tiling drab, the look of administrative buildings everywhere.

  ‘Come on.’ Drummond was leading her up the stairs.

  ‘No one’s going to mind us being here?’

  ‘Admin staff all been sent home for “training”, Fitzackley’s servant included, which has pissed him off no end. So tell him everything, I don’t want any of my men to have to scrub his fucking carpet clean.’

  The second floor was more lavishly decorated than the lower. Carpet instead of squeaky tiling. There were lamps placed at intervals down the walls, a gentler light than the fluorescent tubes below. There were even curtains on the windows at the end of the corridors. The doors were a dark wood instead of a dull, clinical white. This was more like the house might have looked when it was originally built, the feel of a stately home.

  The stairs up to the next floor weren’t by the ones she’d just used, so they had to walk all the way down the corridor to find the next set.

  Windows in the doors allowed glimpses into offices with paintings on the walls, old shelves covered with modern filing racks and large wooden desks fitted with computers.

  Up another flight of stairs and they reached the double doors of the office. The ceiling in the hall was sloped here, cutting the space in half where it met with the roof.

  Drummond pointed her with a grunt, then, without another word, trotted back the way they’d come.

  The office was every bit as lavish as the one at Fitz’s private home but more in keeping with its surroundings.

  Fitzackley sat behind a grand mahogany desk, covered in carved whorls and leaf patterns. To the warden’s sides rested a glass of wine, glowing in the firelight, and a cigar, smouldering in an ashtray, filling the room with its incense.

  A fire crackled in a small grate to one side. The chairs were all high-backed and leather. A thick rug filled the floor.

  The only thing out of place was the large safe squatting in one corner. It was sleek and Amanda’s trained eye knew it to be top of the line. There were wards inscribed across every inch, all centred upon a singularly shaped keyhole. Amanda knew the type, uncrackable without the key. Out of habit, she wondered how she’d go about breaking into it.

  ‘Tell me everything,’ the man demanded, flicking the ash into the tray beside him. Despite everything, he was sitting forward, his movements jerking with nervous energy.

  ‘You were right. Mallory did it. Can’t even say it was more than she just did something that pissed him off.’

  ‘It wasn’t part of some scheme?’

  ‘Not that I can see. To be honest, he doesn’t seem the type.’

  ‘And how did she escape?’

  ‘They don’t know. Mallory’s convinced she had help from one of the other prisoners: someone hit him from behind. But no one else is missing. Maybe he doesn’t want to admit she beat him or…’ she shrugged. ‘Thing is, they don’t know how she got out. But at the same time, I can’t say that they’re looking all that hard. I wanted to search her room. They were more fixed on making sure the other inmates knew who was on top.’

  Fitzackley sneered, brushing the idea away. ‘We don’t have to worry about that. Let them roll in the gutters if it makes them feel powerful. That woman needs to be found. If the mainland hears about this, there’s no telling the scrutiny that could be brought down on this island. Everything will be exposed.’

  ‘There’s only so much I can do. They don’t listen to me. They already think I’m a spy.’

  ‘Convince him. Convince Church of your loyalty. Get that woman’s cell searched. Find out. Make him understand that I will burn this entire island to the ground before I let anyone find out what’s been happening here. There are people, important people who…’ he cut himself off. It wasn’t until he brought his cigar to his lips that he realised how much his hand was shaking and he snatched it away again, looking to see if she’d noticed.

  She pretended that she hadn’t.

  ‘What about me?’ he asked. ‘What did they say about me?’

  ‘Church says you’re paranoid. That you’re afraid of him. That if you made a move against him, this whole operation you’ve got going on would come crashing down.’

  Fitzackley squirmed at each statement, the anger raising him from his seat.

  ‘I could have him hanged like that,’ he snapped a finger, actually producing a spark and the stink of magic. ‘I don’t even need a reason.’

  ‘He knows you can’t. Not without risking the operation. Mallory and the others wouldn’t fall into line and he knows it. None of them are leadership material.’

  Fitzackley fixed her with a look. ‘Are you auditioning for a job here, Coleman?’

  ‘Just saying how it is. Like you asked.’

  The warden took another puff of his cigar, staring out through his window at the ocean.

  ‘If I don’t get back soon, they’ll miss me,’ Amanda prompted.

  Fitzackley nodded, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

  Showing herself out, Amanda didn’t reveal the malicious grin she was feeling inside.

  Drummond let her make her own way back, leaving Amanda to her thoughts. She didn’t dare take her time, not wanting to be missed by Harry or the others.

  It was strange to think that the woman she needed to kill was somewhere through the trees. What was she doing right now? How was she surviving?

  The kitchen was as empty as she’d left it. She was halfway back to her room when she heard laughter drifting up from their meeting room.

  She knew that laugh. Harry had returned from his mysterious errands.

  She hadn’t mentioned that to Fitzackley. Revealing it had felt like too much of a blow to Harry. She needed to keep both him and the warden fighting and giving up Harry’s mysterious disappearances seemed
like handing one too much of an advantage over the other.

  It only now occurred to her that Harry might already know where Karina was. That he was out topside with her. But how would that fit together?

  Coming to a decision, she headed down the stairs. If she could just outlast them tonight, find a way to Karina’s cell and find the papers Sarah had mentioned, then she could figure out what came next.

  She tried to enter quietly, hoping to catch them mid-conversation. No such luck. They had heard her coming and had clammed up when she walked in.

  They were all there: Harry sprawled on one of the sofas; Zoe on one of the others, playing some video game; Mallory, Bohdan and Andre were at the table, playing cards.

  Harry’s boots were on the floor by the door, caked in more mud than before, sand glittering in the dirt. There were more bloodied tissues on the table beside him. Was he sick?

  ‘There she is,’ said Harry, craning his neck to look at her across his supine body. ‘The snitch in chief.’

  The men laughed.

  ‘Grab a seat,’ Harry continued. ‘Hard day, watching us, writing it all down? What did you say to old Fitz?’

  ‘Nothing we hadn’t agreed,’ she said, wondering if she had walked herself into something dangerous.

  ‘Harry has been telling us about you,’ said Mallory, a malicious grin on his face. ‘Said you used to be a little blood battery for daddy.’

  ‘He tell you how that story ended?’

  ‘Just that you’re the kind of girl you have to pay attention to after you fuck her over,’ Andre grinned as he threw a card onto the table.

  ‘That’s a “no” then,’ said Amanda. ‘If he’d told you the whole thing, you’d have seen the moral of the story is you get fucked the moment you even come near me. That a tactic you got there, holding onto those two aces?’

  Bohdan and Mallory threw their cards onto the table. ‘Fold.’

  Amanda smiled as Andre shot her a venomous look.

  ‘Didn’t seem so tough earlier,’ said Mallory, scratching up under his bandage. ‘When you saw what I was packing.’

  ‘Surprise was all. But I’ve faced worse.’

  ‘Don’t listen to her, lads,’ said Harry, sitting up. ‘She acts tough, but that’s all it is. She’s nothing unless she’s got some muscle to back her up. Whatever happened to that brick wall you leaned on? Colin?’