The House of Killers

by Samantha Lee Howe

  ‘I know it’s risky, but I’m coming in with you,’ Neva says. ‘I have to see if either of your parents are lying.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, my bullshit detector will be hiked up to full scan too,’ I say.

  I’m shocked I’m saying this. At the moment, there is no reason to suspect my parents of anything. But the hairs are prickling on the back of my neck as I turn the car into their street and directly onto the driveway next to my father’s car.

  The house is fairly ordinary, though much bigger than they could afford in London. Last year, they sold their small townhouse there and, with the freed-up capital, were able to find a four-bedroom detached home in Cambridge, with a reasonably sized garden, for a fraction of the cost of the townhouse. Dad had never been one for gardening, but he fancied trying his hand now he was retired. I’d been to the house just once before – the day they moved in – and now that memory imposed itself again in my mind. Mia and Ben had been there to help too. At the end of the day, we’d ordered pizza and sat around Mum’s kitchen table drinking beer. It had been pleasant, so why didn’t I see them more?

  ‘Ready?’ says Neva at my side.

  I nod but I feel nervous. It’s almost as if I’m at a stranger’s house.

  I get out of the car and so does Neva. Then I approach the door, knock, and wait.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  MICHAEL

  Mum answers and takes a step back.

  ‘Michael? What are you doing here?’

  Mum looks homey. She’s wearing an apron and there’s a smear of flour on her cheek as though she’s in the middle of baking. She always looks like this. And for a moment it feels staged just for me, but I know she wasn’t expecting me and that this is a ridiculous notion.

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ I say. I open my arms. She blinks and then moves towards me for a hug.

  ‘So, who’s this?’ she asks, looking at Neva, when she pulls away.

  ‘I’m Anna,’ Neva says.

  Neva holds out her hand and she and Mum shake.

  ‘Where’re my manners! Come in! Your dad is in the garden.’

  Mum chatters as she leads me into the house. The living room is in much better order than the last time I was here. That day, unopened boxes were stacked against one wall. Since then, Mum has made this place a home.

  ‘I’ve been baking so your timing is perfect!’ Mum says. ‘Sit down. I’ll put the kettle on and fetch your father.’

  I sit on the familiar plush sofa. She’s had this one for years, though you’d never know as it’s still perfect. Neva doesn’t sit; she stands by the window watching the road outside.

  ‘Well, this is a nice surprise!’ Dad says, coming in from the kitchen. ‘Anna, is it?’

  Anna studies him and then takes the hand he holds out to her.

  ‘Must be serious,’ Dad says. ‘I don’t remember Michael ever bringing a girl home before.’

  Neva smiles at him. Dad sits down in his favourite chair and Neva sinks down on the sofa beside me. There’s an ornate mahogany coffee table between us and Dad. I don’t think I’ve seen this table before and suspect it’s new.

  ‘How long have you two…?’ says Dad.

  ‘Dad, that’s not why I’m here.’

  ‘Hold that thought. I’ll just see if your mother needs help.’

  Dad gets up; he moves slower than the last time I saw him. He looks older too. He goes back into the kitchen. A short time later he returns with a tray. On it is Mum’s best china teapot with matching teacups and saucers. He places it on the coffee table. There’s also a matching jug with milk in it and a small dish containing sugar cubes. Mum’s brought out the big guns today. I can only imagine what she is thinking about me turning up here with a woman.

  ‘Can I take your jacket and hat?’ Dad says now to Neva.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she says but she pulls the hat off out of politeness.

  Dad stares at her beautiful strawberry-blonde hair as it falls down over her shoulders. He looks at me and winks. Then he bends over the tray and starts to pour the tea. He holds a cup out to Neva; she takes it but doesn’t drink.

  ‘Help yourself to milk and sugar,’ he says.

  After taking a cup from him, I place it down on a coaster on the table. I want to cut to the chase now, and ask my questions about Andrew. But I have to wait a little longer until Mum comes in.

  She enters soon with a plate of perfect cupcakes which she puts down on the table before us, along with a stack of small plates.

  ‘Mum’s a great cook,’ I say to Neva but neither of us reaches for one of the cakes. ‘Mum, sit down, will you? I’d like to talk to you guys.’

  Mum sits on the small two-seater sofa she often occupies. She’s smiling at me.

  ‘Well, I wondered when this day would come,’ she says.

  ‘I saw Andrew a couple of days ago,’ I say, moving the subject away from their assumption that I’m here to introduce Neva as my girlfriend.

  ‘Really? How was he?’ Dad asks. ‘Haven’t seen him for some time.’

  ‘You guys are close though? I mean, you chose him as my godfather,’ I say.

  ‘More tea?’ Mum asks.

  I shake my head.

  ‘How did you meet Andrew, Dad?’ I ask. Then I pick up my teacup. Both my parents stare at the cup but say nothing. I put it down again and wait for them to answer.

  ‘We went into the force together. I told you that,’ Dad says. ‘Andrew lasted a couple of years, then his dad died and left him the business. He quit the force and became a big fancy CEO instead.’

  I remember hearing this before, almost word for word. I glance at Neva. She’s quiet but observant under an appearance of shyness.

  ‘What is Andrew’s business?’ Neva asks.

  ‘Didn’t Michael tell you?’ Mum says.

  ‘No. I’ve only just been made aware of him…’

  ‘It’s some import/export thing, I believe,’ Dad says. ‘I don’t pry. But he must be up for retirement himself one day soon.’

  ‘But he left the city a while ago, didn’t he?’ I say. ‘Where’s his house again?’

  Mum picks up a cupcake and places it on a plate. ‘These used to be your favourite,’ she says holding it out to me.

  ‘I’m okay right now, Mum,’ I say.

  She looks disappointed as she places the plate down on the table. Neva takes it and smiles at Mum.

  She lifts the cake and peels away the case, then she nibbles the sponge at the bottom.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ she says.

  ‘You’ve known Andrew a long time then,’ I say. ‘Dad, you’re a cop; have you ever suspected Andrew of … not being what he says he is?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Dad says. ‘Andrew is Andrew. He’s always the same. Now, let’s talk about you two. When’s the big day?’

  Neva laughs at this. She uses the laughter as an excuse to put down the cake.

  ‘We’re just…’ I stop. How to explain Neva to my parents. Is it best to let them think this rather than to have them wondering too deeply who and what she is? ‘Okay. You’ve figured it out. Anna and I are planning to get engaged!’

  Neva laughs a little harder. I doubt she’s ever been in such an embarrassing position before.

  ‘Anyway, I’m trying to tell her about my family. You guys, Mia, Uncle Andrew. Just so she knows what she’s letting herself in for,’ I continue.

  ‘He’s not been very fluent on this subject,’ Neva says, falling into the lie.

  ‘Oh, Michael! I’m so happy for you!’ Mum says.

  My parents begin to relax then and I realise the odd, alert, way they had been looking at us both was because they weren’t sure about the situation. I know it’s unusual for me to turn up unannounced so I cut them both some slack. Even so, I need to find out more about Andrew.

  I sip my tea finally but I take it black and Neva tries the icing on the cupcake. She praises Mum for her cooking but she avoids the tea. Then she asks if she can go to the ba
throom. Mum gives her directions and Neva leaves the room.

  ‘She seems nice,’ Mum says. ‘A little shy perhaps, but she’ll get to know us.’

  I nod.

  Mum pours more tea and stirs in milk, then she passes my cup back to me.

  ‘How did you meet?’ she asks.

  I sip the tea. It tastes too milky after the black cup I’ve just consumed.

  ‘Travelling on the tube,’ I say. ‘Then we just kept bumping into each other.’

  ‘Is he under yet?’ Dad says.

  ‘What?’ I slur.

  ‘Nearly,’ says Mum. ‘I’ll take care of this.’

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Now, Michael, why didn’t you kill her?’

  I’m torn between reality and my dream state. Part of me is denying that this is happening. That my mother just drugged me. I haven’t had much of the milky tea, but it was enough to make me lose control. The cup slips from my fingers and falls down onto the floor with a clatter.

  ‘You have to execute her, Michael. She’s a risk to us all!’

  ‘Kill her?’ I say.

  ‘Yes,’ says Mum. ‘Here. Go and find her and finish this.’

  Mum presses a gun into my fingers. I look down at it and realise it’s my Glock, now with a silencer. I don’t know where it came from. I stand, gripping the weapon with grim determination. I feel strong and cold and full of purpose. I check the barrel, take off the safety, and then I go in search of Neva.

  Mum had sent her upstairs to the main bathroom. It had occurred to me that this was peculiar, when there was a toilet in the hallway, but for some reason I didn’t correct her. Now I understand why: they recognised her immediately which means they are high up in the Network. I remember. Yes. They have a seat each at the table. They are both on Mr Beech’s committee.

  I know now too that Neva is a traitor to the Network. She has to die.

  I remember a lot of things: how they took me as a child. I was only gone a few weeks, and then I was placed back with my ‘parents’. They knew all about it. They were part of my training. But this allowed me the appearance of a normal life. I’d worked hard at school, while training at ‘the house’ at weekends. Unlike Neva, I knew exactly where that place was. But only when I was truly awake. Like now.

  I walk through the hall, gun held in both hands and pointed down. Neva won’t suspect, or see me coming, until it’s too late. The other part of me, the Michael that does not know the truth, stirs inside me and I try to quiet him. I have to do this. I am loyal to the Network. Besides, if you aren’t working for them, then you’re against them. There’s no surer way to retire than to start to breakdown.

  I take the stairs with the stealth of a dancer. The training was rigorous – no room for failure or lack of stamina until you had mastered all of the principles. I can call on reflexive movement, strength and endurance under pressure and go for days without sleep and not lose any of these faculties. I’d done it before. Many times.

  At the top of the stairs I expect Neva to burst from the bathroom, gun in hand, but the door remains closed. I walk towards it, light on my feet; there’s barely a creak on the landing as I reach the door.

  White light bursts behind my eyes as something knocks me down from behind. My head feels like it’s been cracked open. I try to turn but my knees buckle; I’ve been hit in precisely the right place. Only one of us would know how to do that.

  I slip down into unconsciousness long before I hit the floor.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  MICHAEL

  I’m tied to one of the wooden kitchen chairs when I wake. I struggle against the bonds but they’ve been secured so well that my struggles only make them tighter, not looser. Neva is taking no chances and I wouldn’t either in her shoes.

  Mum and Dad are secured next to me. Dad’s bleeding at the temple; Mum has a bruise smudge on her cheek in place of the habitual flour. They are both unconscious. We are all in the back room, which Mum was using as the dining room. The dining table is not centred anymore; it’s pushed aside, and we three occupy its former space.

  Neva is sitting on one of the plush velvet dining chairs Mum spent a small fortune buying some years ago.

  ‘After I saw you with Beech, I knew who you were,’ Neva says. ‘The drug is still in your system and so I’m going to tell you this now while it will have the most impact. Remember everything when you come around. And then you’ll have to make an informed decision about which Michael you want to be.’

  ‘I’ll be any Michael you want, Neva,’ I say. ‘Why not untie me and let’s thrash this out.’

  She half laughs, knowing I’m not the Michael she wants to speak to right now.

  ‘You can fight this, Michael. Your natural self is a good man. This … sleeper-you is not real. It’s a child that was badly abused and used by his own parents.’

  I glance at Mum and Dad. They are both gagged. Wise move on her part; she probably recalls that there are trigger words they can use to control me. I don’t remember what those words are, but I know that if they are used, I will fight and kill; I’ve done so before. Even Neva’s bonds won’t hold me then.

  ‘I’m going to feed you some water,’ she says. ‘It’ll help get this shit out of your system.’

  I try to refuse the water, but eventually give in. What does it matter? If I play along, she may untie me and I’ll take this treacherous bitch down at the first opportunity.

  After drinking the water, I begin to feel tired again.

  Darkness gathers around my eyes and for a moment I see the other Michael. So hard-working at Archive. I have his knowledge when I need it, but I don’t share his emotions. He feels like a dream I once had and then he comes into sharp focus. He pushes at me, punching and kicking. I jerk, try to fight back, but I can’t. He’s strong, this Michael; he’s inhabited this body more than I have.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  NEVA

  Neva watches over Michael as his body repels the drug. She holds the back of the chair to prevent this odd seizure from throwing him to the ground. She doesn’t want him to be accidentally hurt. Once he’s still, she knows he’s going to remain asleep while his mind reorders. The awakening will be hard for him. He’ll remember things he’d rather forget. This was how she was the day she killed her handler. The day she forced her own personality to the surface to join with the one that the Network had given her.

  Once he’s still, she fetches a pitcher of water and throws it over Michael’s mother. The woman jerks awake, sodden, bruised, and tenderised for interrogation. She wants to do this before Michael wakes; he doesn’t need to see it.

  ‘Okay. You’re now going to tell me all about Andrew and where the house is,’ Neva says. ‘And then, I just might let you all live.’

  Michael’s mum looks shocked and horrified. ‘I’m not one of them,’ she says. ‘I don’t know anything.’

  ‘Really? Only I just watched you drug your son,’ Neva says. ‘I heard everything you said to him. Don’t lie to me. I take no joy in being able to stomach what you people taught me to do. But stomach it I will. I’ll torture you if I have to.’

  It takes a little physical persuasion to get the woman to talk. But smashed toes and a broken collarbone are the least she deserves. When Neva learns where the house is, she stops the torture. Others would have continued, but Neva does not revel in what she has been forced to become. In fact, she makes a conscious decision to do only what is necessary.

  Neva gags Michael’s mother again, then drags her, and the chair, out of the dining room and into the lounge. She returns immediately and drags the still unconscious father away too.

  Michael shouldn’t see them when he wakes.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  MICHAEL

  I hear four dull thuds. Like the noise of a muffled hammer smacking against unset cement. My head hurts. I’m woozy, nauseous, and confused. I try to move but find that I’m restricted. It’s hard to open my eyes. My lids feel gritty and swollen. They don’t re
spond to my unspoken command. I tug at my bonds and then water is being pressed to my lips again. I take it, grateful for the liquid washing into my sand-dry mouth.

  ‘How do you feel?’ asks a voice at my side.

  ‘Like something smacked me over the head,’ I slur. My tongue feels thick in my mouth.

  More water is offered. It helps and I find I’m able to open my eyes. The light in the room stings them, like a blaring light that’s turned directly to my face.

  ‘Who are you?’ says the voice.

  ‘Michael Kensington. Where … am I?’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ It’s a female voice. I know that much, but I can’t recall who she is. My mind is fried. Then there is a rush of memories, like dreams I’ve had but forgotten, and they swamp me until I feel like I’m drowning, or going insane.

  There’s a little girl beside my bed. She’s a bit younger than me, and she’s scared. ‘They’re coming for you,’ she says.

  I turn my head as a bulb goes on outside the room. Then the dormitory lights up. There are three other boys in here, but the girl has vanished. Then I remember that she’s hidden under my bed to avoid detection.

  The other boys wake when the light goes on, but the new arrivals – a woman and a man – ignore them and come to my bed.

  ‘You’ll bring him up as though he’s your own,’ says a male voice.

  ‘Of course,’ replies the woman. ‘Come on, Michael, let’s go home.’

  The man beside her reaches for me. ‘I’m your dad,’ he says.

  I feel confused. I try to remember them from before I came to the school. A flash of memory skirts around the edges of my mind. Another mother calling out to me as I ran around in the garden, a Labrador puppy bouncing at my feet, barking in excitement.

  ‘John…’ I say.

  ‘No. You’re Michael,’ says the other man. He’s standing by the door. Blond hair, tall. Smartly dressed. I’ve seen him here before, though he just watches our transformations and never comments. ‘Take him now. But bring him in at the weekend for top-up treatment.’