Blue Angel

by Phil Williams

  He would put in an appearance upstairs after all.

  Maybe Sam Ward would be there, so what. It’d serve her right to see him like this. Maybe she’d finally feel some guilt.

  Mid-morning, and things were settling down in Greek Street. Sam kept half an eye on the monitors of Ordshaw’s topography, which showed a heatmap of amorphous red and yellow shapes moving ponderously east. The praelucente, and its horde, circling the city with their usual speed and trajectory. No more destructive surges, no abnormalities since the night before. Operations were moving ahead of the horde advised by Support’s standard alert monitoring. Another Tuesday morning in the MEE.

  London would be happy.

  As long as Pax and her friends were kept at bay, perhaps the praelucente was safe after all. Everything could continue as before. People had died, riding the train to work or sleeping rough, but they’d be written off as opportunity costs in the grand scheme of Ordshaw’s gift.

  The best option, for Sam, would be to keep playing the game and hope to gain some kudos for the little assistance she had offered. She could report, at least, that she’d actually spoken with one of the Fae now. Yes, he had threatened to shoot her and aided in a fugitive’s escape, but she could describe other things besides, like his general appearance, accent and patterns of movement. She could spin it to garner some validation for IS Relations, maybe give talks in London. Maybe spearhead similar initiatives in other cities. Istanbul had a Fae population, and the lesser-known city of Guadaleizam in Mexico. Imagine instructing a team of Mexicans – she could say things like, “I need you to be a Mexican, not a Mexican’t.”

  Was that racist? She’d email Jen in HR to check.

  Anyway, if she wanted to get her career back on track, that’s what she had to accept.

  Keep things simple, don’t rock the boat, don’t aim for change.

  Except.

  Except she didn’t want to accept that. She couldn’t shake the wish that these resources be put to proper use again. In the briefest moment she’d had charge of this office, she’d exposed something that she knew had meaning. No matter what Mathers said. What was really going on in those pockets that the Commission deemed irrelevant? What did Apothel’s people know and how could they use it? What had actually caused the previous day’s devastating surges? And there had to be a reason that novisan was affected in different parts of the city to the praelucente – there had to be a result.

  Sam found herself hovering by an analyst’s shoulder. As he stared at a stream of ever-growing numbers, she considered how vital it was that they monitor novisan everywhere, with the unsettling awareness that the levels around Dr Rimes’ map coordinates were only affected when the praelucente was far away. But of course she couldn’t redirect Support. She scanned the office. Landon had gone home to rest, at last, but maybe when he got back in there was another option. Someone watching one of these markers might take some readings on the ground. Did Operations have equipment for that?

  The lift beeped, beyond the reception desk. The doors opened, and Tori’s surprised jump alerted everyone else to their visitor.

  Those other questions could wait.

  Casaria stepped out, grinning as usual, reminding Sam in an instant of how he made her skin crawl. But his suit was torn, his shirt filthy, his face bloody. She’d been right to be worried.

  “Casaria? Are you okay?” she asked loudly, pacing across the office.

  He waved a hand dismissively, purposefully ignoring her as he approached the secretary. Tori shot Sam a worried look, no doubt intending to buzz Mathers immediately. Sam shook her head, making Tori squirm.

  “Agent Casaria,” Tori stuttered, “are – are you hurt?”

  “I expect you heard what I went through on Sunday?” Casaria said, nonchalantly. “It’s nothing, but I’m taking some time, of course. I just needed to check something.”

  “You were suspended, I can’t...” Tori said.

  “He was missing,” Sam said, surely the more pressing matter than his employment status. There was no way his condition was caused entirely by the events in his reports; he’d been in more trouble since Sunday, for sure.

  “Yeah.” Casaria winked at Tori. “So, I need the new security codes, I left something downstairs.”

  Reminded of his arrogant manner, Sam sensed the sympathy she’d felt for him dissolving. She moved closer, hissing, “Where have you been?”

  He leant around Tori’s desk and lowered his voice. “Miss me?”

  “I’ll get Deputy Director Mathers,” Tori decided, fumbling for the phone.

  “No,” Sam said. “I’ve been looking for him. I’ll take care of it, and report to the deputy director myself.” Tori regarded her sceptically, but Sam kept her eyes on Casaria, in case he disappeared again. He was still smiling. “Agent Casaria’s input directly affects the work we’re doing in IS.”

  That worked – the smile skipped like a hiccup.

  “We’ll use my office,” Sam said, but paused. She checked him over again, realising they had an excuse for greater privacy. “Unless you need to go to Medical first?”

  Casaria looked at his own bloodstained clothing, then the bullpen, and came to the same conclusion. “You know, that’s a great idea.”

  4

  Rolarn hadn’t taken his eyes off the humans, and the longer Letty watched him the stranger she thought it was. The guy wasn’t interested in a game of cards, or shooting the shit, or anything, it seemed, other than staring like a creep. The humans felt it, too; whenever one of them looked his way it was with the uncomfortable awareness of having a nasty spider on the wall, hoping someone else would remove it. There’d been no hint of Lightgate coming back, and Letty was getting tense thinking about her other plans when a visitor arrived.

  Rolarn suddenly stirred from the counter like a dog sniffing the air. He lifted off without explanation and flew to the escalator. The Bartons went quiet, watching him, and, after a moment of surprise, Letty launched after him, calling out, “What’re you doing, lardo?”

  “Wait here,” he said, continuing up to the next floor.

  Like hell. Letty followed Rolarn up to find a man near the top of the escalator; a thin Fae in a grey suit, waistcoat, tie and all. Before Rolarn could greet him, Letty shot ahead and demanded, “Who the shit are you, Lightgate’s accountant?”

  “Letty, is that you?” the man said, with surprise. “I was hoping to meet you.”

  She slowed down; he didn’t look like an exile. Not in those threads, with that educated accent. He adjusted his little glasses and offered her a smile, holding out a hand. Letty looked at it like it might kill her.

  Rolarn said, “You alone?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to waste time, not once I heard – well, how everything’s going.”

  “How what’s going?” Letty said, accusingly. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Edwing,” the man said, lowering his hand. “You weren’t expecting me?”

  Rolarn answered, “I was. You’re here to see the humans?”

  Edwing gummed his lips for a second, in anticipation, a glance down the escalators. “They’re down there?”

  “You’re some FTC toff?” Letty demanded. “What are the humans to you?”

  Edwing eyed her warily. “I’m here on Lightgate’s invitation. You are aware of the messages Lightgate relayed to the FTC?”

  “You think this is my fucking aware face?” Letty advanced on him.

  Rolarn gave her a fierce look. “This doesn’t concern you –”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You and Lightgate are bringing FTC pricks in here to gawk at my humans and it doesn’t concern me? You want your own fist rammed down your throat, Rolarn?”

  The heavyset Fae swelled, ready to bite back, but Edwing intervened. “Sorry – I’m getting in the middle of something here. But we’re on the same side, Letty.”

  “That’d be why you’re tiptoeing around?”

  “I’m on the FTC Council,” Edwing said, li
ke that explained everything. Letty’s scowl didn’t shift. This was where Lightgate had gone? Rustling up a shit-heel from the FTC?

  Letty said, “If you’ve sold me out to Val –”

  “No,” Edwing said, insistently, “quite the opposite. Many of us in the FTC fully sympathise with your intentions, Letty – creating dialogues about the viability of relocation and the Sunken City, human interaction – long-buried issues. But it would be political suicide to publicly suggest such things without a very convincing argument. I understand the Dispenser has slipped away from us again – but your humans present other opportunities. If I can see them…”

  “My humans,” Letty said, “are not fucking zoo animals. What’re they to you?”

  “Lightgate presented various ideas,” Edwing ventured carefully.

  “Which ought to stay between you and Lightgate,” Rolarn said.

  “No, he’d best keep damn talking,” Letty snarled.

  Rolarn’s shotgun swung her way, his expression warning her off. “We’ll talk. Once he’s gone.”

  The two Fae squared off in tense silence, neither blinking.

  Edwing looked from Rolarn to Letty hesitantly, deciding who was the more dangerous. “Yes, I think you had best talk yourselves. I’ve seen enough. The general sentiment is that Lightgate’s not there yet. This rather confirms it.”

  “Not there yet?” Rolarn growled. “We’ve got a damn Ministry agent and Citizen Barton himself. What’s not ready?”

  Edwing adjusted his glasses. Fair play to him; for a frail-looking suit he kept his composure. “You have components, not a cohesive whole. This” – he gestured to Letty, indicating the confusion between them – “is clear enough. Tell Lightgate I’ll be in touch.”

  Rolarn glared at him angrily. A more extrovert Fae might have railed at Edwing with righteous vitriol about whatever they were scheming. He only nodded towards the exit. “Get, then.”

  Edwing said, “Good to meet you, Letty. I hope we’ll speak again.”

  Letty stared at Rolarn as their guest sped off towards the exit. Her hand itched over her pistol. “After the shit I’ve been through, you think I’m gonna let you drag me into an FTC-sponsored –”

  “Relax,” Rolarn said, his own voice strained. “Lightgate’s got a good thing going.”

  “So good you didn’t want me to know?”

  “So you could fuck it up like that? It doesn’t involve you, Letty.”

  “That,” Letty hissed, “pretty well looked like it involved me.”

  Rolarn gave her a grim look. “Alright. Imagine the Dispenser resurfaces, we can call Val a liar, say she did nothing to get it back. But that’s ignorance, she can weather that. Now imagine she did something to actively conceal it. Something serious.”

  “The fuck are you talking about? With the Dispenser, we don’t need Val –”

  “What if she’d done something against her principles?” Rolarn finished. “Like murdered humans to cover up this weapon. Citizen Barton, of all people. A celebrity.”

  “What?” Letty said, incredulous. “You want to finish what Val started? Because it’s a psycho move? We’ve got witnesses – we can tell people –”

  “Tell hell,” Rolarn snorted. “Actions speak louder. Dead bodies speak loudest.”

  “You bloody idiots,” Letty snapped. “It’s not happening. I’m taking the humans.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “You’re gonna make me hurt you?”

  “You got close to that girl for whatever reason, fine. But the rest of them – you must value your life over them? You must value the restoration of the FTC over them.”

  Letty glanced downstairs. She’d seen enough from these hapless humans to know they weren’t scum. The women were bloody bystanders, and Barton was ready to blunder into any old shit for a righteous fight. She locked on Rolarn again, ready to shoot him down. Except his shotgun was on her; it’d only get her dead. She said, “What’s the plan, then? String them along until we’ve got the Dispenser, then stage a slaughter?”

  “Something like that,” Rolarn said. “Edwing and his sort might have given us more support. Can’t say I expected much from him, though.”

  “More support with what?”

  “Other pies,” Rolarn said, blandly.

  Letty kept staring. Definitely ready to hurt this bastard. “Where’s Lightgate now?”

  “Couldn’t say,” Rolarn said.

  “Arnold?”

  He shrugged.

  “I’m gonna go find them.”

  “No. You’re staying here. Might be best you hand me your gun.”

  “You can take it when I’m dead.”

  Rolarn held her gaze, unmoved and not moving. He curled his upper lip like it wasn’t worth it, and said, “So keep it. So much as think about drawing it and I end you.”

  Her head clear after a little sleep on the hard floor, Holly was eager to take action. Pax would return with more answers, and she would be ready to take the baton from there. She’d take them from inactive hiding to a complete, workable plan against the government. Starting with legal counsel.

  To prepare, Holly continued trying to gather information. Darren and Rimes were reticent about their pasts, but she drew dribs and drabs from them, mostly through the art of flattery. By thanking Darren for his attempts to protect them, she got an idea of the time frame he’d operated in; exploring those tunnels from shortly after Grace was born until she was almost three. It was awful to hear, yes, but she avoided criticising him. At least for now.

  “And it never struck you to work with these little people before?” Holly asked, an eye on the fat fairy on the till. Letty was standing angrily apart from him. She always seemed angry, that one.

  “We heard stories about them,” Darren said, but did not elaborate. Despite her efforts, he still expected her to trap him.

  “Have you studied them, at all?” Holly asked Rimes. The doctor was surprised to be addressed, and anxiously shook her head.

  “I would love to. I’d never seen one –”

  “None of us had,” Darren said. “Not until Apothel did. It killed him.”

  Holly could see this going down a road they’d trodden before, so she sighed and stood up. Clearly it would be best to get everyone talking, to get over that hump. She approached the little people on the counter. “We could do with some more water, couldn’t we? I can bring us some more.”

  “You don’t have to do anything,” Darren said. “Just rest.”

  “What about food? We’ll get on to lunch before long.” She turned to Rimes. “Do you have some money?”

  “Me?” Rimes started patting her pockets. “Yes – that is – I think so –”

  Holly turned back to find Rolarn and smiled. “Aren’t you hungry? I can do a run.”

  “Best not,” Rolarn said.

  “I’d like to pull my weight. Being idle doesn’t suit me.”

  “It does when the MEE are watching.”

  “I hardly believe they’ve got eyes on every CCTV screen in the city. I saw a WH Smiths downstairs, I’ll drop by there.”

  “You’ll sit back down.”

  Holly frowned. This wasn’t the bridging exercise she’d had in mind, and that sounded decidedly like an instruction. She looked to Letty. “You think it’s not safe, now?”

  Letty held her gaze but said nothing.

  Rolarn said, “She thinks you’ll sit back down and wait.”

  Holly blinked at him, hard. His tone had barely changed, but that was a threat. Darren had heard it too; he shifted behind her, making the unhappy noise that came with him preparing to get confrontational.

  “For your own good,” Rolarn said, a little testy. Holly frowned at his infernal gun, glued to his hands.

  “Leave it, lardo,” Letty said, savagely, “let the lady go get some water.”

  There’d been no issue when they’d been escorted to the toilets, with the Fae keeping an eye out for cleaners and whatever. Something had happened wh
en they’d gone upstairs, leaving them in this tense state, Holly was sure.

  “If it’s all the same,” Holly said, slowly, “I think I’ll be okay, and could certainly use a little break from this room.” She held the tiny man’s gaze, aware that the issue now was not what she planned to do, but whether or not this fairy would permit it.

  “Sit down,” he said, settling that.

  “What the hell are you –” Darren started, going to stand.

  “Don’t,” Rolarn said, voice raised just enough to say any further movement might lead to violence. Holly glanced over her shoulder. Darren was in a half-crouch, supporting himself on his hands, furious eyes locked on the counter. Grace had stirred behind him, sitting up alongside Rimes, both markedly worried.

  They were all, of course, thinking the same as Holly. Were they prisoners, now?

  Rimes spoke into the tension. “Darren...” She managed to squeeze a lot of terror and confusion into that one word.

  “I’ll make this clear,” Rolarn said. “You all need to stay put.”

  “Well,” Holly said, “you can’t –”

  “You don’t need to stay alive.”

  Holly clamped her mouth shut. Rolarn’s shotgun faced her gut. He was actually pointing a gun at her, what was that weapon capable of? Letty was on her feet, a hand on her pistol in its holster, too. Except she was turned side-on to Holly. Facing Rolarn.

  “Darren,” Rimes whimpered again, and was joined by a bleat from Grace, “Dad.”

  “It’s okay, keep calm,” Darren replied, waving one of his big hands but otherwise not daring to move. “Holly. Come back here.”

  Holly was rooted to the spot. Her family hadn’t braved a labyrinth of unholy monsters to succumb to a miniature gunman. She’d failed to do anything about them last time, when they invaded her home, but she had no idea they were coming, then. This was just one man – a tiny bully – within arm’s reach. Her daughter was here, her husband.

  “I don’t like it, I don’t like it,” Rimes said, voice teetering. “This isn’t right.”