Given To Darkness (Ordshaw Book 6) Read online

  “Duvcorp are out of the picture,” Tasker said, gathering more papers, “as near as I’m aware. Not sure what I already told you? Some of these mercenaries banded together in a group calling themselves the Legion, and they’ve got influence with some powerful people. Presumably they’re working together to stop anyone else getting the same powers Ikiri gave them. While those that aren’t working with them want all the power for themselves, if Seph Mason was anything to go by. He’s the man who owns this place.”

  “Went renegade on all of them, Reece put in. “Said he was the only one could be trusted with what he knew.”

  “And where is he now?” Ward asked, concerned the man who’d compiled this serial-killer mess of information might jump from the shadows.

  “Long gone,” Reece said. “Ditched us around the same time we figured on trying to prevent a massacre. And good riddance to him; the guy’s been hunting people down like a game of international murder tag. Got his daughter Zip mixed up in it. We aim to unmix her.”

  “Help me gather this,” Tasker said, grabbing another paper and stuffing it into a nearby duffel bag. “We’re not staying.”

  “Aye, he needs more help than we can give him here,” the bearded paramedic said.

  “Can’t go to no hospital,” Reece said. “We’re wanted men.” He quickly added for Ward, “Innocent, though.”

  “Agreed, we need to keep a low profile,” Tasker said. “Deputy Director Ward, you have private facilities?”

  “AGa-21, will that do?” Ward addressed the paramedic. “I can have Dr Hertz meet us there.”

  The paramedic nodded. “Should do.”

  “Go on ahead,” Tasker said. “We’ll follow. Reece, Deputy Director – I’m especially interested in the one called Shearjoy.”

  “How’s that?” Reece said.

  “Mason said it himself, didn’t he?” Tasker said. “Shearjoy’s got a hand in the Ministry. If we’re going to make it back to Ikiri, we have to deal with his Legion first. And we have to get back to Ikiri. That place itself is responsible for hundreds dead already, in Laukstad, Graystown, very nearly here. Unless we can stop it, as quickly as possible, a lot more people are going to die.”

  2

  How the hell Leigh-Ann ended up stuck in a car with the lunatic killer, she did not know. They were bringing up the rear of a three-vehicle convoy, led by the government folks, with Zip in back, and Katryzna had been badly hiding small attempts to sneak looks at Leigh-Ann. She also kept starting to speak then baulking. Reminded Leigh-Ann of Brady Fontwell, down Melancony’s Bar’n’Grill. One of countless guys so afraid to talk to a girl that he stewed on it forever rather than risk a quick rejection and the chance to move on. Except this vagrant-looking attack dog of a woman had taken on the mute sword-freak Vile and stood down Mason, so her fear over making conversation was especially weird.

  Leigh-Ann just hoped wherever in hell these suits were leading them, it’d have a bed and maybe some booze. Bed rooms, at that – with a wall between her and Katryzna. The woman whispered something to herself, and then nodded, steeling herself to speak up. Leigh-Ann looked in the mirror to Zip and quickly spoke before Katryzna could: “How you holding up, sweetie?”

  Zip looked up with surprise. She forced a tired smile. “I’m okay.”

  “Way past your bedtime, huh?”

  “I don’t think I should sleep.”

  “Oh, you should always sleep,” Katryzna told her, twisting in her seat. “Being rested is a weapon.” She turned this sagely to Leigh-Ann. Trying hard.

  “Ain’t none of us need to be told sleep’s good,” Leigh-Ann said. “But we just about established bad things happen when Zip does it.”

  “It’s when my brother feels safest,” Zip explained. Leigh-Ann frowned. How could Zip be so certain when she’d only learnt she had a brother that evening? Another kid with powers, going by what they’d pieced together from Zip’s father and Agent Tasker. Seemed like the boy was stuck out in Africa, somehow making people go crazy while he tried to kill Zip. Presumably also responsible for sicking Vile and the gorilla on them. Zip said, “If I sleep, he’ll do bad things. Make people attack each other.”

  “We were in this place, Stilt Town, where a bunch of people lost their minds,” Leigh-Ann added for Katryzna’s benefit. “People we knew from way back. Killed each other, damn near every last one of them. Killed one of the best guys I know and all.”

  “Ah,” Katryzna said. “It happened to me in the forest. The villagers attacked us at night.”

  Leigh-Ann gave her a sideways glance. Suspecting that might’ve happened anyway. But Katryzna had been out there, hadn’t she? To this Ikiri in the Congo, with its disruptive magic. Leigh-Ann said, “You lost a friend to this too, right?”

  “Eyes,” Katryzna said. “He cared about me. Not many people do.” She gave Leigh-Ann a suddenly sharp look. “But he was not one of Mason’s soldiers. He worked for the company. A problem solver. Like me. Well. Better than me.” Her brow knitted. “I want to make it okay. I do not know exactly what happened to him. It was a long time ago and all we found there was Sara in a tree and she was mad.”

  “Sara being . . .?”

  Katryzna glanced at her shoulder, distracted. She muttered in another language, Polish? Then she told Zip, “She was your mother. But she is stuck in a tree and it has made her insane.” She quickly told Leigh-Ann, as Zip’s face froze in shock. “They went in a cave – I didn’t believe it until I saw it, but this cave was not somewhere you want to go. It killed some of them, gave others powers, and changed Sara into something else.”

  “A tree.”

  “Only half a tree.” Katryzna moved her hands, as though gesturing could help explain it. “She hung out of it. Out of the middle of it.”

  “And you up and left her there?” Leigh-Ann raised an eyebrow.

  Katryzna’s eyes drifted, rerunning whatever she’d seen in Africa. “Sara did strange things with her mind. It made people behave how she wanted. If she wanted to get out of that tree, she could have made people help her. She is something else now. Not a mother, anyway. She hides people in the area. With her mind. She put Sean and Henri in a trance. I do not know, it is hard to explain. You will see when we go there.”

  The last sentence was almost a question. Leigh-Ann didn’t rise to it. Zip looked troubled enough already. Her gaze drifted out of the window and her lips moved with silent calculations.

  The little Honda ahead turned into a tight road flanked by houses. As they moved between vehicles parked either side, Leigh-Ann leant over the wheel to make sure she wasn’t gonna smack the wing mirrors off. The Brits had no idea how to build streets with any elbow room.

  As Zip hadn’t said anything yet, Leigh-Ann thought out loud herself: “Sounds like Momma and you share some powers, maybe? Telling what people are feeling. Pulling the wool over people’s eyes, like we ain’t there. Sensing things from way off.”

  “Sara could do that!” Katryzna said. “She sensed everything. Places that had been attacked around the world – and exactly where to find Zippy.”

  “I don’t know anything about my mum,” Zip said, quietly. “Daddy never mentioned her. He only said she was gone. But I would like to – maybe I could reach out to her, the same way I did with my brother?” She paused. “I sensed him very strongly. He’s angry, Leigh. Really really angry. And strong. He’s also scared. He doesn’t want to be seen. I don’t know what he’ll do when I sleep again.”

  “Well, see,” Leigh-Ann said, “he’s gotta sleep, too, right? And didn’t you prove that whatever he’s got, you can stop it? He does anything, you’ll set it right, won’t you?” In the mirror, she saw Zip’s eyes shimmer with doubt. Yeah, no one had any damn idea if that was true. “Anyway, you’re stronger than you think, and you got us backing you.”

  “I will take care of you,” Katryzna insisted. “Protecting people is not much different to hunting people. I kill them before they kill us.”

  Leigh-Ann shot her a warning look. This woman should not be around kids. The look was enough to remove Katryzna’s grin. Then she flashed forward, swiping a hand at the dashboard, trying to hit something that wasn’t there. She snarled a short tirade in Polish. When she looked up again, trying to force another smile, Leigh-Ann said, “The hell?”

  Katryzna cleared her throat, straightened up and spoke in a forced polite tone. “I apologise. Do not listen to Rurik.” She paused, considering whether to explain, then said, “My conscience. But Zippy. Your brother is nothing to be scared of. None of these angry men are. They are cowards.”

  Leigh-Ann kept staring for a second, trying to figure it out: the woman was hearing a voice she called a conscience, but preferred to argue with it than heed it. Great. But she had a point, which Leigh-Ann latched onto: “Yeah, someone told me that anger and fear are the same thing, Zip. So if your brother’s really angry, then he’s really scared. After you stopped all his zombies, he’s the one oughta be afraid to sleep.”

  “You think so?” Zip didn’t sound convinced. Wanted to be, though.

  “For sure,” Leigh-Ann said.

  The ambulance ahead pulled off the road, through a gate in a tall wall, and they followed, reaching their destination and interrupting the discussion. Leigh-Ann said, “The hell kind of safe house is this?”

  The building before them was a huge, ugly mess of big square angles and white-framed windows, like someone had glued a half-dozen town houses together without considering where the parts went. Steps and ramps went up to at least three different entrances, all with safety bars and barriers around them. The biggest one had a glass reception area with a faded sign above it: Barnfield House. There were wheelchairs in the lobby.

  The ambulance continued around the side of the property, and Leigh-A
nn followed to some parking bays at the rear. Off to the left sat a cramped garden, a couple trees and bushes packed in between encircling walls, about what you’d expect from a country beset by tiny roads.

  Leigh-Ann decided, “This country was designed for dwarfs.”

  The second Leigh-Ann parked, Katryzna jumped out. She rushed off with another echo of Brady Fontwell: too nervous to stay a second longer than necessary. She ran to the Honda, where a little lady in a pantsuit was getting out. The paramedics were already out with Stomatt, rolling his gurney through a wide fire escape. Alive, thank God. In good hands? But oh, the crazed killer jumped in for a hug that Businesswoman was not ready for, which made Leigh-Ann bark a laugh. Katryzna backed off smiling, talking like they were old friends, while the little woman didn’t have a word to say back, just big frightened eyes. Sean Tasker didn’t help, getting out the other side of the car – he hefted a packed bag after the paramedics. Katryzna skipped after him.

  “That woman,” Leigh-Ann said to Zip. “You’ve got a gift. What do you think of her?”

  “We can trust her,” Zip said, confidently. “She’s kind and honest and she wants to help. She’s worried for her own town, and a bit scared of Katryzna.”

  Leigh-Ann frowned. “You’re talking about the suit? I mean Katryzna herself. Should we be scared of her and all?”

  “Oh,” Zip said, and her brow furrowed. “She’s different. Like . . . a ball of wool? Or spaghetti. Noisy. I don’t know; some people are easy to understand, others hide it, like my daddy, but . . . she’s confusing.” Then Zip smiled. “But she likes you.”

  “Don’t I know it. Shit.”

  Reece hooted for them as he reached the fire escape himself, which he held open for the Englishwoman. Leigh-Ann sighed and got out, beckoning Zip to come with her. “This a private hospital or something?” she called to him.

  “Nursing home,” Reece said, as they approached. “Apparently no one’ll know we’re here.” Inside the door, there were stairs going up and the shiny metal doors of an elevator. The suited woman was waiting, averting her eyes like she was self-conscious about getting involved. Reece introduced her anyway. “Sam, Leigh. She’s –”

  “Yeah, can you give us a minute?” Leigh-Ann cut in. She pulled Reece away by the elbow, just clear of the door, leaving Zip with the suit. “We really wanna be jumping in bed with these people so quick?”

  “Sam’s all right,” Reece replied. “I’ve been filling her in, and she seems like good people. Besides, we’re buying time. Get some rest, get Sto good, then we figure out what’s next.”

  “Easy as that? I just rode in with a girl says she kills people for a living,” Leigh-Ann said, wanting to pick up right where Reece had brushed the issue off back in the village. “And these folks, they’re the fucking man. Even the woman looks like the man.”

  Reece moved further from the door, throwing a look back like the suit might hear. “You see us having a choice? Might pay to have the man on our side for once, no?”

  “We got Zip, remember,” Leigh-Ann said. “We can do like we did to get here: make people look the other way while we hop on a couple planes. Go home.”

  “To where everyone knows to find us?” Reece said. “Zip’s tired as all hell, Leigh. Already got the world on her shoulders. These might not be our people, but they got an interest in ending this. That’s gotta work for us.”

  “Sure, but we don’t know who they are, except for being stone killers with” – she threw a hand up – “secret nursing home hideouts? And they want us to go to Africa? Is that really what we’re about?”

  Reece followed her gesture, considering it for a second. “We’ll have a sit down, okay? Get the full measure of them. As soon as Sto’s good.” He paused. “As to Africa, we gotta consider it.” A smile teased his lips. “Always wanted to travel, didn’t you?”

  “Wanted to follow the Blues Highway and hit up clubs, not rumble in the jungle.”

  “Consider it an upgrade,” Reece said.

  Leigh-Ann tried to stay mad, but it was hard to keep up when he got that playful twinkle in his eye. A promise that nothing was serious as it seemed. She looked away and huffed, “You got us private rooms, at least?”

  “Let’s find out,” Reece replied. He led the way in, to find the woman and Zip talking quietly.

  Sam spoke in a prim British accent like she was right off the TV: “I think I can find a bear somewhere here.”

  “Okay,” Zip said, through a little yawn.

  “Y’all getting on?” Reece said.

  Zip smiled and rubbed one eye with a balled-up fist, bless her. Reece was right: whatever else, the kid needed rest. Leigh-Ann crouched and said, “Sweetie, we’ll find you somewhere to lay your head.”

  “Ms Ward said she would get me a teddy,” Zip replied through another yawn. She blinked and tried to steel her face. “But I wanted to say something.” She gave a sideways look to the British lady. “We can trust them, Leigh. Ms Ward is nice. Katryzna will help us, I think. But . . . I’m worried about Agent Tasker.”

  3

  Tasker left Stomatt in the medical room with a stern-faced doctor in surgical dress. The Scottish paramedic assured him this whole wing was secure – they had a single corridor with a medical bay, two bedrooms and a common area. No connection to the rest of the building. It was a purpose-built safe house, piggy-backing on a care home, where no one would notice strange noises or medical staff and men in suits coming and going day and night.

  Ignoring Katryzna, who was raiding cupboards and told him through a mouthful that she’d found chocolate, Tasker spread Mason’s papers over a circular coffee table. As well as bullet-lists and photos, there were biographies and reports that Mason must have hired investigators to produce. Shearjoy’s photo had his real name scrawled under it: Alfred Hawkins. A nondescript, round-headed man with rough skin and a black teardrop tattoo on one cheek. He didn’t look like an Alfred. His C.V. described a background in the British Army, then jobs at security companies that handled former war zones. He was more than a typical grunt – Assistant Director at Torn Fang, Chief of Operations at Storm Shield. The jobs ended in 2009, the year Duvcorp sent the mercenaries to Ikiri, in the Congo, and from 2010 onward Mason had listed names and dates of the man’s contacts, some with surveillance photos attached. Shearjoy had met with the CFO of Warlowe Ltd, one of the world’s largest freight operators, and had lunch with Audrey Flan, the French vice president. Numerous Duvcorp employees – including the late Simon Parris, whose murder Katryzna had witnessed and described to him – were listed with question marks. There was also a page detailing the acquisition of a property, the Hall of Cainon, in the Carpathian Mountains.

  “He’s the one that called?” Katryzna asked, peering over Tasker’s shoulder with a half-finished chocolate bar in one hand. She took the photo. “Looks feeble.”

  Tasker took no notice; he’d told her nothing of the specific threat, only that Shearjoy said he was coming. He sifted through the other papers, and spotted what he was really looking for: Shearjoy + Chief Operations Agent Deputy Director Finway. Met 02/04/12; 13/08/15; 21/01/16. Presence near Theed Street: 06/13; 06/16. Tasker knew Finway, the Ministry’s chief for South London. Theed Street was their main office. The dates were a running tally of Shearjoy consolidating a relationship. Tasker thumbed through and found similar tallies next to Audrey Flan’s name, and likewise for two American governors.

  Katryzna snatched the first page off him. “Mason is a real stalker, isn’t it?”

  “Shearjoy is my concern. The Ministry sweeps otherworldly secrets under the rug. Duvcorp, Raystaten, companies like that” – he stabbed a finger into some of the names on the paper in front of him – “play their own games, hide their own truths. This man has access to the worst kind of people.”

  “People like me?” Katryzna said, cheerily.

  “Pretty sure there’s no one else like you.” Tasker stood, brushing her off, though the reality was Shearjoy must have access to the same contract killers as the industry giants. Someone had murdered Simon Parris at the start of all this, after all – presumably a Legion grunt – when Parris had leaked information about Laukstad to the Ministry, undermining his own company, Duvcorp. Considering Duvcorp had supposedly given up their interest in Ikiri once the mercenaries had gone missing, the Legion most likely had a hand in the company. The Legion’s main goal, after all, seemed to be keeping knowledge about Ikiri hidden, which went together with murdering each other to limit those in the know. Though that might’ve also indicated something more primal: Mason’s crusade, and the way he’d reacted to mention of his son, a boy potentially more powerful than him, suggested an almost irrational aversion to competition. It had to be why Shearjoy wanted Zip dead – they were afraid of her power in the same way they feared each other.