Grindhelm's Key

by Nick Moseley

  ‘And that is why nobody in their right mind should do deals with the likes of Jack Smith,’ said Deacon. He let out a long breath. ‘It’s an added complication.’

  ‘Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,’ said Trev. ‘At least it means the bad guys, whoever they are, won’t be there watching Smith’s back. He’ll have to rely on his friends, and from what I’ve heard he’s about as popular as a fart in a crowded lift.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ said Deacon. ‘Trev, I have a question. Do you trust me?’

  Trev was puzzled by the change of tack, but found the answer came readily enough. ‘Yes, as it happens,’ he said. ‘Though I’d understand it if you said you didn’t believe me.’

  ‘You can prove it,’ said Deacon, ‘by taking me as your backup. I’m not completely convinced that Smith has a source inside the Custodians, but I agree that we can’t take the risk of putting a large-scale operation together. A small team, though, of people we know are trustworthy, is the obvious alternative.’

  This was a very reasonable suggestion. The problem was that Trev had already arranged his own backup. Still, it couldn’t hurt to have a bit more in reserve, could it? Deacon couldn’t be expected to just hand over three priceless weapons and sit back with his fingers crossed.

  ‘All right, that makes sense,’ said Trev. ‘It has to be a very small team though.’

  ‘Who else do you trust here?’

  ‘Mishti Desai,’ said Trev. ‘Ruby and Franz. Archie Logan.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Nobody else I’d trust with Granddad’s life, no. And that’s the only criteria I’m working with.’

  ‘Right then,’ said Deacon. ‘It doesn’t give us much to work with but it’ll have to do. We’re running out of time. We’d better put some details together.’

  ‘We better had,’ Trev agreed. ‘OK, here’s what I’m thinking…’

  Thirty-Nine

  It was past eleven o’clock by the time Trev reached Highvale Wood. He was using his own car, which represented something of a gamble given its unreliability and handling characteristics. Deacon had offered the use of one of the Custodians’ anonymous white vans; Trev had turned him down. It was improbable that Smith would recognise a nondescript van as belonging to the Custodians, but it represented one more risk on what was already a long list. Trev had decided not to push his luck.

  Even with the Rover’s heater going full blast he couldn’t rid himself of the shivers. The obvious conclusion was that they weren’t caused by the cold. While he’d been busy making phone calls and meeting people, he hadn’t had time to stop and consider the possible consequences of failure. The drive out from Brackenford had changed that. Oscar was with him but the kitten was dozing, so Trev was alone with his thoughts.

  They weren’t happy thoughts.

  Trev was afraid. Partly for himself, because self-preservation was a difficult instinct to suppress, but mostly for Granddad. The old boy was one of the good guys. A man who’d spent his whole life trying to make the world a better place. He didn’t deserve to die at the hands of someone like Jack Smith, who’d done the exact opposite with his own, unnaturally extended, existence. Trev had a plan to stop that from happening. If it didn’t work, and Granddad died as a result, he didn’t see how he’d ever forgive himself.

  The car rumbled and bumped along the icy, pot-holed lane. Highvale Wood was somewhere ahead, well beyond the reach of the weak headlights. Trev wasn’t going there yet. His eyes searched the opposite side of the road, looking for the lay-by he knew was there. Just when he was wondering if he’d driven past it in the dark, it appeared. He carefully slowed the big car and pulled in behind a small white hatchback, which was sitting there with its engine running and its lights off.

  Trev killed the engine and tapped the sleeping Oscar on the head.

  ‘Do that again and I’ll bite your finger off,’ the kitten grumbled.

  ‘We’re at the meeting spot,’ said Trev. ‘They’re here.’

  ‘That’s a start,’ said Oscar, stretching his body across the passenger seat. ‘If they weren’t, the rest of the plan would be academic.’

  Trev gathered him up and put him on his shoulder. He got out of the car into the freezing night. Closing the door, he walked into the space between the two vehicles and waited. The front doors of the hatchback opened and two figures emerged, one much taller than the other. The car’s interior light shone on familiar faces: Ezekiel Barker and Sarah. They joined Trev, Sarah giving him a hug while Barker favoured him with a nod.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ Trev said.

  ‘I hope you haven’t lured us here into an ambush,’ said Barker. His posture was tense and his eyes watchful.

  ‘I’m not that daft,’ Trev replied. ‘No bullshit. Smith has Granddad. If I don’t turn up at midnight with the Key, he’ll kill him.’

  ‘And if you do show yourself at midnight with the Key, what then?’ asked Barker. ‘Surely you realise that Smith intends to kill you both in any case.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ said Trev. ‘I’m not a complete idiot.’

  ‘It’s an obvious feed line, but where’s the challenge?’ said Oscar.

  ‘I’m not going to walk in there alone and unarmed,’ Trev went on. ‘There’s a plan to deal with Smith.’

  ‘And he will no doubt have a plan of his own,’ said Barker. ‘He’s survived for so long because he has always been more cunning and ruthless than those hunting him.’

  Trev shook his head. ‘I’m not underestimating the bloke. The big thing is the power of his lantern, and I’ve got the advantage that it doesn’t work on me.’

  ‘Which he knows,’ said Barker. ‘He won’t rely on it. He’ll have made other arrangements.’

  ‘And I know that he knows,’ said Trev, feeling that he’d somehow slipped into a 1970s comedy sketch. ‘We’ve got options to cover his… options.’

  ‘We?’ said Sarah.

  ‘I’ve lined up some help,’ said Trev.

  ‘The Custodians?’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Trev. ‘They’re involved.’

  ‘You trust them?’

  Trev pursed his lips. ‘A few of them.’

  ‘Who else?’ Barker enquired.

  ‘I’d rather keep the details to myself,’ said Trev. ‘Unless you’re volunteering to take part? We could use you, for sure.’

  Barker glanced at Sarah, who was giving him a questioning look.

  ‘Much as I would like to play a part in Jack Smith’s downfall, I would prefer to avoid the Custodians,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you understand why.’

  ‘Feargal Deacon agreed they wouldn’t try to arrest you,’ Trev said. He didn’t expect Barker to change his mind, but there was certainly no harm in trying to sway him. While he was still something of an unknown quantity, his fighting skills weren’t in question. Barker was one of the two best vapour weapon users Trev had seen, with Mishti Desai being the other. He idly wondered which of them would win if they faced off in a duel; whichever way it went, it would certainly be entertaining to watch.

  ‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t take him at his word,’ said Barker. ‘The Custodians have wanted me for a very long time, and with good reason, I must admit. They squandered one opportunity to apprehend me two nights ago. I wouldn’t expect them to turn down a second chance.’

  ‘I thought you’d probably say that,’ said Trev, shrugging. It had been worth a go. In truth he wasn’t convinced himself that Deacon would stick to his promise not to arrest Barker. The possibility of taking down two of the Custodians’ most notorious targets in a single night would’ve been difficult to pass up. Although Trev believed Deacon was a man of his word for the most part, he didn’t think he was above the occasional bit of shady behaviour if he thought it was for the greater good.

  Trev didn’t judge him for that. After all, he had some shady intentions of his own that evening.

  Oblivious to Trev’s internal monologue, Barker merely nodded. He reached into his pocket and p
ulled out the Key. He held it in the palm of his hand as if he was weighing it. The expression on his face was thoughtful.

  This isn’t the best point for you to start getting cold feet, Ezekiel, Trev thought. He really wanted to check the time, but didn’t risk offending Barker by looking at his watch. Instead he stood in silence and waited for the tall man to speak.

  ‘If I agree to loan this to you, do I have your assurance that you’ll return it?’ Barker asked. He held up the key between forefinger and thumb.

  ‘Assuming Smith doesn’t kill me,’ Trev said.

  ‘It seems to me that this is quite a risk,’ Barker went on. ‘I would be giving up a highly valuable artefact to no obvious benefit.’

  Trev held on to his patience, albeit with some difficulty. When he’d spoken to Barker on the phone, he’d agreed to loan him the Key if it meant the end of Jack Smith. Now the time had come to hand it over, he was apparently having second thoughts. Trev didn’t have time to stand in the cold and debate. Although Highvale Wood was close by, he’d still need time to drive there and make his way to the meeting place.

  ‘No obvious benefit?’ Trev echoed. ‘If I have that thing I’ve got a good chance of getting close enough to Jack Smith to put an end to him. If I go to the meeting without it, or I don’t turn up, he’ll kill Granddad.’

  ‘If that happens, you’ll have me to contend with,’ said Oscar, narrowing his eyes at Barker. ‘He always sets the thermostat just right. I’d be really annoyed to lose him.’

  ‘Thanks for that heartfelt appeal,’ Trev muttered. ‘I’m sure he’s deeply touched.’

  ‘The end of Jack Smith is a laudable goal,’ said Barker, ‘and one I wholeheartedly endorse. What concerns me is the likelihood of your achieving it. You’re a skilled fighter, Trevor, I won’t deny that. But better men than you have perished at the hands of that creature. It wouldn’t require any great imagination to foresee an outcome in which you and your grandfather are dead and Smith disappears into the night with the Key.’

  ‘If you don’t give me the Key he disappears into the night anyway,’ said Trev. ‘Of course this is risky. Can you think of any way to take on Jack Smith without risk?’

  ‘A fair point,’ said Barker. ‘However–’

  ‘Oh, just give him the bloody thing, Ezekiel,’ said Sarah, hands on hips. ‘Trev knows he’s going to owe you a big favour and he appreciates your help. Right?’

  ‘One hundred percent,’ Trev said, grateful for the intervention.

  ‘And you want Jack Smith out of the picture, right?’

  Barker inclined his head. ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Well, then. I think Trev’s on the clock.’

  Barker looked at her for a moment. Then he chuckled, stepped forwards and handed the Key to Trev.

  ‘I sincerely hope I don’t regret this,’ he said. ‘I wish you the best of luck.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Trev replied. He tucked the Key into his coat pocket. ‘Though I’m hoping I won’t need to rely on luck.’

  Barker gave him a searching look. He didn’t reply, instead turning and walking away.

  Sarah approached Trev. ‘I appreciate you stepping in there,’ he said to her, checking Barker was out of earshot. ‘For a moment I thought he’d changed his mind.’

  ‘For a moment, so did I,’ she said, with a flash of a smile. ‘This plan of yours, though. How confident are you?’

  ‘Smith’s powerful but he’s not invulnerable,’ said Trev. ‘We know his weakness and how to exploit it.’

  ‘And you’re sure you trust the people you’re working with? Out here in the dark, you could easily have an “accident”, right?’

  ‘Yeah, I trust them,’ said Trev. ‘They’ve both had multiple chances to kill me in the past, and haven’t, so I’m as sure as I can be that neither of them is the Custodians’ traitor.’

  A thought fell out of the night sky and struck Trev like a cartoon anvil. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before.

  ‘Blimey,’ he said.

  Sarah frowned at him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Hang on a sec,’ said Trev. He raised his voice. ‘Ezekiel?’

  Barker was leaning on the white car and staring into the night. He looked around. ‘Yes?’

  Trev walked towards him. ‘That night, at Bowbrook Hospital.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Barker, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I asked you whether you knew who the traitor in the Custodians was,’ said Trev, ‘and you said you did.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Barker.

  ‘So,’ Trev said, spreading his hands, ‘who is it?’

  Barker folded his arms. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t mess me about,’ said Trev. He wanted to grab Barker by his lapels and shake him. ‘They’re trying to kill me. I need to know.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’ Barker sounded genuinely apologetic. ‘The fact remains, however, that I don’t know who they are.’

  ‘But you said–’

  ‘I know what I said, Trevor. I regret to say that I was not entirely honest.’

  ‘But why?’ Trev ground his teeth.

  ‘I needed your help, or perhaps more accurately, Isabella Mallory’s help, to extricate Florence from her confinement,’ Barker explained. ‘I claimed to have knowledge of the traitor as a bargaining ploy.’

  ‘We’d have helped you anyway,’ said Trev. The surge of excitement had faded and he felt hollow.

  ‘I did not know that,’ said Barker. ‘If you recall I had tried to kill both of you that evening, so I was not expecting charity.’

  ‘So Ducrow didn’t tell you anything? Drop any hints?’

  ‘It’s quite possible he didn’t know the traitor’s identity himself,’ said Barker. ‘He only ever referred to them as “our serene friend”.’

  ‘Serene?’ said Trev.

  ‘It means peaceful,’ Oscar said. ‘Think about it.’

  ‘Peaceful,’ Trev repeated. His eyes widened. ‘As in The Invocation of Peace, maybe?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Oscar replied. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me, though.’

  ‘It’s not proof but it’s definitely suggestive,’ Trev mused. ‘I wish we had some idea who the Invocation are and what they want. Why are they trying to kill me?’

  ‘They’ve probably met you,’ said Oscar. ‘That’d be reason enough for most people.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Trev said. He glanced at his watch. ‘Crap. We need to get going.’

  Sarah gave him another hug. Trev squeezed back, aware that it might be the last meaningful human contact of his life. That cheerful thought soured the experience somewhat. He gave Bad Trev a slap and forced it down. He couldn’t afford any negative thoughts. He had to be confident in the plan he’d devised and his ability to carry it out.

  ‘Try not to get yourself killed,’ Sarah whispered. ‘I’d miss you.’

  ‘I’d miss me too,’ said Trev.

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ muttered Oscar.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ said Trev, giving his new confidence a road-test. ‘We’ll sort out your… issues with the Eyes.’

  Sarah looked puzzled but didn’t press him for details. ‘All right. Good luck.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  Trev headed back to the Rover. It rattled into life and he pulled onto the icy road. Sarah waved as he went past. Barker simply stood with his arms folded. He didn’t respond to Trev’s departure.

  ‘Right, that was the easy bit,’ Trev said. ‘It gets trickier from here.’

  ‘Yeah, no shit,’ Oscar replied. ‘I’m not usually too free and easy with the encouraging comments–’

  ‘I’d never noticed,’ Trev cut in.

  ‘–but I think your plan has a reasonable chance of success,’ Oscar continued.

  ‘Really?’

  Oscar shrugged. ‘Sure, why not.’

  ‘Well, thanks. My self-esteem is at an all-time high after that.’

  ‘No need to be sarcastic.’

  They drove on in sile
nce. Soon they reached the gate that led to the makeshift car park Trev had used for the pax party. There was only one other car there this time. Granddad’s red Honda. It was parked in the middle of the field, the front doors ajar. Trev pulled up next to it and got out, Oscar hidden in his coat pocket.

  The Honda was empty. Trev shut the doors to cut the interior light and save the car’s battery. He looked around. There was no sign of life and the area was wrapped in a chill silence. He pulled out a little torch and followed the path into the trees. There were no glow-sticks to light the way this time, and no music to follow.

  The darkness under the trees was absolute. Trev paused long enough for Oscar to drop out of his pocket and scurry off. The kitten had his own part of the plan. Trev took a moment to gather himself.

  This was it. He was on his own.

  He stepped into the dark.

  Forty

  Trev moved as quietly as he could, which wasn’t very. The mud and slush of the path had re-frozen and made walking difficult. He crunched, slipped and muttered his way along. The silence around him seemed to amplify every sound, and he became convinced that Smith would be able to hear him coming from the next county. Concentrating on his footing at least took his mind off what lay ahead. If he’d stopped to think about it he would probably have ended up curled into a ball, rocking gently against the nearest tree.

  He was beginning to worry about being late for the rendezvous when he saw a faint light through the trees. He scrambled towards it. After an uncomfortable few minutes he arrived at the large clearing that had hosted the pax party. Empty, it looked much larger than it had on Trev’s previous visit, the moonlight reflecting off frozen puddles and piles of dirty snow. He stopped at the tree-line to see what he was walking into.

  Granddad was sitting in a folding garden chair in the centre of the clearing. Although he had a thick winter coat on he was shivering, his arms wrapped around himself. A small electric lamp stood on the ground at his feet. This was the light Trev had seen.

  Smith stood a short distance from the chair, arms by his sides. The cold didn’t appear to be bothering him at all. He was immobile as a statue, facing straight ahead, ignoring the trembling old man to his right. His lantern pulsed with a faint purple glow. He was on the edge of the pool of light provided by the electric lamp and his eyes were shadowed by his cap; nevertheless, Trev felt with certainty that Smith knew he was there and was looking at him.