The Black Shepherd

by Steven Savile

  Frankie needed to come around again, alone. Though how she’d pull that off he had no idea. He settled down to wait, hoping it wouldn’t be all night because what was a chill now would be bloody freezing after half an hour of standing still.

  Twenty minutes later he was still waiting and debating whether to take a piss behind a tree when he saw movement.

  He waited, trying to make sure that it was Frankie, and assuming it was, that she was alone.

  He moved closer to the fence.

  ‘Fancy seeing you here,’ she said, her breathing steady and even, like she was out on an evening stroll rather than a third circuit through the woods.

  ‘You lost your friend?’

  ‘He couldn’t keep up.’

  ‘You won’t be missed?’

  ‘I figure we’ve got two minutes.’

  She listened without interrupting while he told her what he’d learned on his travels, including the fact that Maria Bartok thought One World were using KGB tactics to build dossiers of compromising material on people in places of power.

  ‘We’ve got another problem,’ she said, when he was done. ‘Kask, the officer who buried the investigation into Irma’s disappearance, is here.’

  ‘Kask? Fuck.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

  ‘You shouldn’t. Annja Rosen is dead. And Kask is in the frame for it.’

  ‘Which explains why he doesn’t want to go back into the city.’

  ‘He hasn’t made you?’

  She shook her head. ‘I almost feel sorry for Kask,’ Frankie said. Seeing his look of confusion she added, ‘He’s locked in here with me.’

  ‘When do you think they’ll move you?’

  ‘Soon,’ she said. ‘Maybe as early as the morning.’

  ‘OK. Not ideal. But you’ve still got your tracker?’

  ‘No. They confiscated my stuff when they brought me here. If I ask for it all back they’ll either tell me I don’t need anything from my old life or they’ll get suspicious. Or both.’

  Peter reached into his pocket a moment later and pushed his own phone through the links in the fence. ‘Hide it. Law can find you. I’m not going to lose you, Frankie. I swear.’

  She took it.

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic, Peter. I’ve got this.’

  ‘I trust you.’

  ‘Of course you do.’

  Voices carried from somewhere in the compound.

  Frankie stepped away from the fence.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  A moment later she was running through the trees, circling back towards the buildings.

  FIFTY-NINE

  ‘Time to go,’ the voice whispered in the darkness. ‘We’re out of here in five minutes.’

  Blearily, Frankie opened her eyes and struggled to focus through the darkness and fog of sleep. She had no idea what time it was. Too early. Four in the morning? Five? Before the sun brought the world to life, at least.

  It was Elsa’s voice but in her groggy state it took her a moment to work out who owned the voice in the darkness.

  ‘OK,’ she said, trying to summon some enthusiasm for moving. She hauled herself out of bed. Elsa put a holdall at the base of the bed.

  ‘Pack your things. We’ll meet you at the car.’

  ‘What about my other stuff? The things I brought with me?’ She said, even though she didn’t need them. She needed to sound like the woman who came into the compound. No mistakes. Not at this stage.

  ‘Do you really think you’ll need them again, honey? Is there anything in there you can’t live without?’

  She shrugged, happy to give that stuff up now. It made it look like she was all-in, ready to leave the past behind. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Well OK then. I’ll make sure they’re sent on to Tasha at some point. She can redistribute that stuff to kids in need. I can imagine there are plenty out there who would love a good sleeping bag like yours.’

  Frankie nodded ‘That’s a good idea. When you’ve got nothing, anything will help.’

  ‘I can remember,’ the other woman said, and left her to get her stuff together.

  Moving quickly Frankie stuffed her few belongings, including Elsa’s old tracksuit and trainers, into the bag along with Peter’s phone, which she folded into her underwear to keep it safe.

  Tomas leaned against the hood of the now familiar black limo with its child-locked doors. She nodded to him as she emerged from the hut she’d called home for the last couple of days.

  What little sky she could see through the trees was still blacker than black, save for the single glimmer of the silver moon. The floodlights were on full beam, lighting the compound up brighter than sunshine.

  Kask sat in the front passenger seat, the window wound down, elbow on the door. The radio was on. She didn’t recognize the song.

  Tomas opened the rear door for her.

  John was travelling with them.

  ‘Sorry if I kept you waiting,’ she said, ducking into her seat.

  ‘Oh, don’t concern yourself, Ceska, everything in its own time and a time for everything, remember? We are exactly where we are meant to be, the four of us, exactly when we are meant to be. That is all that matters. If anything, it’s me who should be apologizing to you, waking you up at this ungodly hour. You are more than welcome to sleep as we travel. We won’t be offended, will we?’ The other men didn’t answer him, because obviously the only words that mattered here were his.

  Kask closed his window as Tomas slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  A moment later the screen between the front and the back of the car closed.

  As soon as it settled into place, sealing her in with John, The Shepherd said, ‘Now, I don’t want to alarm you, my dear, but as we approach the property it will be necessary to blindfold you. The house is a refuge. We don’t allow any but a select few to know the location; for the safety of others, you understand?’

  She nodded. He was taking her to a safe house somewhere in the city. Of course, Peter’s tracker hidden in the bottom of her holdall would blow that little secret wide open.

  ‘The truth is that not everyone is as trusting or as accepting of our family and what we are trying to do here as you are, sadly. There are those that would do us harm.’

  ‘We are all one family,’ she replied, as if that was the answer to everything.

  ‘We are indeed.’

  ‘Is this where I am going to be tested?’

  ‘In a way, yes. Though perhaps not as you expect.’

  ‘I’m excited to be part of this,’ she said. She looked at John, the self-styled Shepherd, but didn’t see the charismatic leader of men, she saw the Fork-Tongued Saviour of the exposé the man had tried to suppress by murdering the journalist who had infiltrated his sect. She couldn’t remember his name. Bray? Laura had the book on her desk. Frankie was in no doubts as to the truth behind the allegations, no matter what the courts had failed to prove. John, The Shepherd, was capable of ordering a murder. Looking into his eyes now, she felt sure he was capable of doing the killing himself if it came right down to it. ‘What can you tell me about my future?’ she asked, careful to make sure everything was positive and laced with anticipation. ‘I’m still not sure why you think I’m so special.’

  ‘All in good time, my dear. You are no ordinary runaway. You’re different. I can see into the hearts of people and see both the good and the bad in them. You have this same gift. I recognize it in you.’

  Like hell you do.

  ‘So you want me to help people? To be a counsellor? To talk to runaways and try to help them find a new place to belong?’

  ‘No. Plenty of people can talk to lost children. No,’ he said again, as though weighing up whether it was finally time to share what he actually saw in her or not. ‘There are many who stand against us. Those, let us call them the Blind for they refuse to see, who undermine our abilities to help people. They mock and ridicule what they do not understand
. And more than anything they seek to destroy us. We cannot allow that to happen. The Blind are fair game, Ceska. If we cannot make them see One World’s vision we must protect ourselves from the harm they would do. I want you to be a Protector. I saw the way you looked after little Alina, I know your instincts are motherly, that you look to nurture and protect those you love. There is no one better equipped to protect her sisters than you, my dear girl.’

  A Protector? That was some sketchy linguistic manipulation right there. Now she knew the kind of man Kask was, and what he’d done for the cult, killing to protect his so-called family, she realized that John intended to turn her into a weapon. A murderer like Kask. And Kask was meant to oversee her training.

  She’d thought of plenty of things they might have been grooming her for, but turning her into an assassin?

  ‘Of course. I love my sisters. We are one family,’ she said, thinking it was the only right response she could give given the circumstances. ‘I will do anything I can so that the family can continue to bring hope. I don’t understand why anyone would want to stop what we do.’ We. Deliberately inclusive, buying in to the group identity.

  How long did it take before a lost girl truly felt that they were part of everything?

  She needed to think very carefully about everything she said from now on. She couldn’t appear too eager, too desperate to please. Not yet. But equally, she had to sound willing. It was a delicate dance. But if John wanted her to be a Protector, then that was exactly what she would be.

  ‘People are frightened of what they don’t understand, Ceska,’ he said, as though that answered her question.

  She nodded and settled back into the seat.

  She allowed the gentle rhythm of the car to lull her into closing her eyes, opening them only now and again to see the window’s tint change as though beneath brighter light: streetlights. They were back in the city somewhere, but she had no way of knowing where. She touched her foot against the bag, reassuring herself it was still there.

  She couldn’t shake the worry that without that phone it would be easy for The Shepherd and his pet murderer, Kask, to make her disappear. To make anyone disappear.

  SIXTY

  Laura woke to the sound of an unfamiliar alarm.

  It took her a moment to realize where she was.

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she processed what was going on around her, then swung her feet off the cushioned seating block that until last night had served only as somewhere to pile the boxes that had been transferred from London ready to be processed before being put into storage.

  She sat up.

  The alarm that had woken her wasn’t an alarm at all; it was Peter Ash’s tracker on the move. Meaning Frankie was in motion. He’d debriefed her last night, obvious relief in his voice that Frankie was in good shape. She shared the sentiment. Her being out of contact had played on Laura’s mind for days. If things went to hell she was going there with them. She’d kept Frankie’s off-the-books investigation from Akardi, lying to his face more than once, and on top of that she’d sent Peter out into the middle of it, unsanctioned. As far as shit went she was in the brown stuff up to her neck. So this couldn’t go to hell, it was as simple as that.

  She grabbed her phone from where it rested on top of The Shepherd’s smiling face. The Fork-Tongued Saviour wouldn’t know what had hit him.

  She speed-dialled Peter Ash on the burner he’d picked up after giving Frankie his modified phone.

  By the time he picked up Frankie was already outside the perimeter of the compound and moving fast.

  The one good thing about this was that he didn’t need to keep her in his sights to follow as long as the phone was active.

  ‘She’s on the move,’ Laura said.

  He didn’t sound as though he had been sleeping. But then it couldn’t be that comfortable in a hire car out there in sub-zero conditions.

  ‘About fucking time. I’m freezing my tits off out here, Law. Couldn’t keep the engine running. Didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention. Where is she?’ Laura heard him start the engine. ‘She’s still on the track through the forest, but given her current speed, I’m thinking she’ll hit the main road in less than two minutes.’

  ‘OK.’ She heard the car move away. ‘I’m going to cheat, get ahead of them, assuming she’s being taken into the city, so they can overtake me on the road. It’s easier to follow them then. Any joy identifying the building Irma’s in?’

  ‘Nothing so far. None of the properties are showing as being owned or rented by One World or 1W or anyone associated with any of their trading names. But I’ll find it if it kills me. There’s a link to this Fork-Tongued Saviour,’ she said, ‘I’ll bet my life on it.’

  ‘Or Irma’s,’ he said.

  ‘We’re getting her out, Pete. No fuck-ups. We’re bringing Frankie’s cousin home.’

  ‘Assuming she’s in danger. She could be a willing little cultist.’

  ‘Like Annja Rosen was a willing little cultist,’ Laura said.

  ‘Low blow, but point taken. But I don’t want to have to choose between Frankie and Irma, Law. This goes one of two ways, and Frankie’s always going to be my priority.’

  ‘I understand where you’re coming from, Pete, but Frankie wouldn’t appreciate that. She’s a field agent. She went in there knowing what the dangers were. She’s not some innocent kid. She’s a trained agent. If it’s a choice between her and Irma, there’s no choice at all. You get Irma out of there. We’re not having another kid buried in the forest.’

  ‘Let’s just hope we don’t have to make the call,’ he said, which was his way of saying he was too tired to argue with her.

  The problem was, given everything that he was carrying because of Mitch Greer’s death, all of that guilt that had spent six months eating away at him while he was laid up, Laura didn’t think for a minute that Peter Ash would do as he was told if it meant leaving his partner exposed.

  ‘She’s reached the main road. Taking the turn for the city. She should be coming up in your rear-view in a couple of minutes.’

  SIXTY-ONE

  The drive took more than an hour. Less than two. The car came to a halt.

  ‘This is where I must ask you to indulge me, Ceska,’ John said, taking a blindfold out of his inside pocket.

  Frankie put her foot on top of her bag, making sure no one could take it away from her, while The Shepherd secured the blindfold in place. It covered her eyes, ears, and her nose, save for her nostrils. No light of any sort was getting through the cloth.

  The car started moving again. She counted to four thousand three hundred and twenty-seven silently in her head before it stopped again. She reached down for her bag as she felt the door beside her open. A sudden draft of icy air coiled around her. She felt the frost prickle her face.

  Someone took her arm and helped her out of the limo.

  She could hear all sorts of sounds, faint traffic in the distance, bird song, even the wind itself carried its own distinctive susurrus. She tried to focus on what she knew. The air didn’t possess the salty tang it had down by the docks, which eliminated a huge tract of land and buildings, but given the size of Tallinn that didn’t narrow things down particularly.

  She couldn’t hear the engine of a second car, but that didn’t mean Peter Ash wasn’t close.

  ‘Would you like me to take your bag?’ a voice said. The door closed solidly behind her. Tomas.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she assured him. ‘I’ve got it.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  Two more doors opened and closed. She felt another hand on her arm, steering her away from the car.

  She moved carefully, picking her feet up with exaggerated caution, listening for anything that might offer some kind of clue as to what she was walking into. She felt the two men walking behind her in silence.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ Tomas said after no more than a dozen cautious steps.

  She heard what sounded like keys, a key fob, but
the key didn’t slide into the lock. It was some kind of electronic device, like a contactless credit card. The lock clicked open with a heavy sound. ‘There’s a step up ahead of you,’ Tomas said without letting go of her arm. ‘Careful.’

  She edged her right foot forward until she felt the toe of her trainers touch something. One step up. Still leaning on Tomas. Then she stepped into warmer air.

  Inside, they walked side by side for another half a dozen steps before they stopped again. She heard the door close behind them and the lock fall into place.

  She felt hands at the back of her head and a moment later the blindfold came off, leaving her blinking at the stark electric light.

  They stood in a hallway. There was a narrow stairs ahead of them, the carpet worn bare in the middle. There were two doors on either side of her, and in the narrowing corridor at the side of the stairs, a third door part in a shadow.

  A hand on the small of her back guided Frankie towards the staircase.

  She saw photographs lining the hallway. It took her a moment to realize that they were all pictures of John with celebrities and politicians, many she recognized as stars – if not superstars – of their fields. There were a lot of others she didn’t recognize, but assumed they were equally important. No doubt they were the great and the good that The Shepherd had brought into the One World family, either by hook or by crook. The thing with photographs is they lied all too easily; every person in these pictures seemed thrilled to be standing beside the Shepherd. Most were black-tie and red-carpet events, not just random celebrity selfies. No doubt at functions that cost a small fortune to attend.

  At the top of the stairs hung a larger picture of John, this time with a former American president, shaking hands and grinning within the Oval Office.

  ‘He was much nicer in real life,’ John said, resting a territorial hand on her shoulder. ‘And, I have to admit, he has been a real help to the family in recent times.’

  ‘How?’ she asked before she could stop herself, and immediately regretted it.