Blue Angel

Home > Fiction > Blue Angel > Page 31
Blue Angel Page 31

by Phil Williams


  Pax paused. “You know I can tell you things you don’t know. Can you trace this phone for me or not? Find my friend?”

  She went quiet and waited, an uncomfortable look on her face. She couldn’t want her secret about those electric veins shared with the Ministry. She was ashamed of taking on part of the myriad horde, having touched their world.

  Ward took a long time to answer. For her, it didn’t get much worse than diverting resources without authorisation. “If you agree to discuss all you’ve been through with me – at the very least with me personally, even if you don’t come in – then I’ll run the trace.”

  Pax immediately set new demands. “Run the trace and guarantee the Bartons and myself will be free from your investigations, then we’ve got a deal. And I want my bloody money back – and someone to stop my landlord from kicking me out.”

  Ward paused. “I think that can be arranged.”

  “You think? That doesn’t do it for me. Can you make it happen or not? Because –”

  “I can make it happen,” Sam said, more firmly. “That man you saw ripped apart in our office? He was in charge. Now I am.” Her voice got even firmer, making Casaria frown. “I’m in charge.”

  14

  In the brief window that Sam had taken to field the phone call and organise Pax’s trace, she found the unsupervised field agents had started itching for blood. Every one of these young men (and they were all men) yearned for trouble. It was written on their squared faces, creased with lines of tension and distaste. They gathered around the table in Meeting Room 2, waiting for Dr Galler, their tech specialist, to explain the Fae’s Dispenser at the circle’s centre, before they could get out and bust heads.

  Galler said, “Obviously we haven’t had much time, so I wouldn’t like to propose exactly how it works – or what might make it more effective than our own tools – but essentially this appears to produce a particularly potent electromagnetic pulse. There’s an aspect I can’t account for in the conversion of –”

  “Perhaps we could stick to how it can be used?” Sam heard herself say. With authority, she’d decided, came coldness.

  “Right.” Galler regarded her with the same expression everyone had worn the first time she issued them an order. Tackling two questions at once: do I need to put up with this woman? and do I want to risk my job? “There’s essentially two moving parts. After you unscrew the end and put in the fuel, you pull back this lever, and the device goes through a – let’s say a charging process. This button discharges it.”

  “Potentially bringing the tunnel system down on top of you,” Hail said.

  “Potentially.”

  “With respect” – Hail looked to Sam – “we’ve been working on the assumption that the praelucente has become unstable because that moron Casaria shot this weapon at it. Right?”

  “No.” Sam was ready for this one. “That’s perfectly possible, but it’s equally possible the praelucente behaved this way because we threatened it, and what we’ve seen is a series of revenge attacks. It’s possible the turnbold was part of that. The point is, we have no idea what you’re going up against, and you need every weapon at your disposal.”

  This met a murmur of disagreement. They wanted Fae blood, not some new mystery threat. But for once Sam could point them in the right direction: their searches had led to something concrete. During the first Monday surge, when that building had quaked in New Thornton, novisan had spiked, in a massive amount, in one very particular spot.

  The energy was moving, as Pax said. It had to be the grugulochs. If that was the force behind this mess they’d stumbled into. It was dangerous, it was using them and it needed confronting.

  “Shame we don’t have the homeless guy’s drawing to help,” Agent Farnham commented, sarcastically. It got a few dutiful sniggers.

  Sam gave the burly, bearded brute a stern look. “Gentlemen. You know how to do your jobs. If you want to stick with your usual weapons, that’s up to you. But this is here, available.”

  The agents shuffled their feet. Even Landon wasn’t volunteering on this.

  “Very well,” Sam decided for them. “Agent Hail, I want you to take it. Use it or don’t, that’s your choice. Dr Galler, you’ve got some fuel for it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s discuss how we’re going to do this, then.” Sam bent over the table and paused with her hand poised to push the Fae device out of the way. She hardly dared touch it, and looked to Hail. He took it gingerly himself. Under the device was a map of the Net, Ordshaw’s northernmost borough. The ink was faded from age, but the paper was spotless, testament to how rarely the Ministry ran operations there. When Roper had announced they’d located a focal point for an energy spike, it seemed logical that it would be somewhere so remote, barely populated and scarcely patrolled by the Ministry.

  A big cross intersected the corner of two roads in the upper west quadrant.

  “What’s there?” an agent with a crew cut asked.

  “Your ears need cleaning out?” Farnham replied. “We don’t know, that’s the point.”

  “I meant the building, dumbass. The location.”

  “Gentlemen, when you’re ready.” Sam kept her voice calm. “It’s an old church.”

  “An actual church this time,” Landon added. “Not like Apothel’s chapel.”

  “Thank you. Methodist building, closed down in the ’70s, when the minister was charged with indecent activity.”

  “Paedo,” someone muttered, helpfully.

  “There’s a set of keys coming from the City Council. I want you to secure the perimeter before going in. There shouldn’t be any creatures –”

  “Never had reports north of Juliacre Boulevard,” Hail said. “The tunnels finish a block above the A564.” Some of the agents muttered agreement, to demonstrate they knew this already.

  “Stay vigilant,” Sam said, hoping to sound inspiring. “We don’t know what you’ll find, but it is responsible for all the assaults we’ve had on this city. This office included.”

  More grumbles in the audience, and a lot of wary looks, picking her apart. Hail spoke for them: “You think it’s another creature, or what?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “It might be our perpetrator’s apparatus. Whatever they’re using to manipulate the praelucente.” They didn’t look convinced. “It’s big. The novisan levels are huge, compared to the rest of the city, and they’ve spiked in line with the praelucente’s surges. Be very –”

  “Excuse me, ma’am, sorry!” Tori blustered clumsily in, wearing a nervous smile, flapping a piece of paper in one hand. Sam scowled at her, ready to deliver a public scolding. The secretary didn’t give her a chance. “It’s urgent – correspondence from –” She made a secretive click of her tongue. “You know –” She cleared her throat. “Orders.”

  “The Raleigh Commission?” Hail said. Sam turned to him, to say it was none of his business, that he should back off, and she would –

  He had the paper in his hands, and swore under his breath. He slapped it down on the table, so everyone could read it at the same time as Sam. He even kept a finger on it so she couldn’t take it back. As commander, it was her role to read the Raleigh Commission’s correspondence and –

  Her thoughts of command disappeared as she read the first lines.

  URGENT: NOTIFIED ORDER OF ENGAGEMENT

  FAO: Acting Deputy Director S. Ward.

  Action has been decided and is hereby notarised by the Raleigh Commission, to be effective immediately –

  She was going to be fucking fired. Minutes away from dispatching her team to take action. One of the agents pulled back from the table with a grunt, not especially happy about the news either. At least there was some solidarity here.

  – the Ordshaw Branch of the MEE is to be directed towards the locating and engaging of the entity entitled Fae Transitional City, enacting Protocol 21. In respects of –

  Holy what?

  Sam’s face was slack. Tarrin
gton’s instructions for everyone to take a break suddenly seemed reasonable in the face of what she was seeing. The Commission had gone away to agree on this? Was this a message, because she’d shown initiative? Lord Asquith’s doing, some sort of punishment for them attempting to contact him directly?

  “How’s this possible?” Landon said, equally stunned.

  “Fucking right is what it is,” Farnham said. “It was a direct attack, it was an act of war – this is what we should be doing! Not chasing unknowns with two men dead!”

  “Three men,” someone reminded him. “We lost one Sunday.”

  “This should’ve happened Friday,” Hail said. “The second they fired on Casaria.”

  “There’s due process to be had,” Landon attempted. “Especially if there’s rogue elements at work. Escalation’s never a good –”

  “No.” Hail leant towards him, right into his space, and stabbed a finger into the Commission’s order. “We’re being ordered to attack the FTC. Escalation is exactly right. Isn’t that correct, Madam Acting Deputy Director?” He turned forcefully to Sam.

  As she looked into the eyes of half a dozen edgy men, her words came out messily. “I – we – there must be a mistake –”

  “It’s signed, Ms Ward,” Tori said, lingering in the doorway. “Notarised.”

  “We’re good and ready, aren’t we?” Hail addressed his fellow agents. “Different target, same strategy. Seal off the perimeter, advance on the enemy.”

  “You’re talking about a whole city of people,” Sam said with alarm.

  “Fae.” Hail shot her a nasty look. It spread through the room, the majority feeling. “They’re not people. They’re terrorists, and they did this to us. You can’t defend them, the order’s right there.”

  “I’m the Acting Deputy Director, and I say where our priorities lie. This anomaly in the Net could explain exactly what put our building in danger.”

  There was silence. The pack of wolves smelled weakness in their leader. The only soft face in the crowd was Landon’s, but even he looked uncertain. Galler and Tori, for their parts, had their eyes on the floor, wanting to be anywhere else but there.

  How could she convince them? What had convinced her?

  Common sense, surely? It all added up to a force more complex than a simple mindless attack. No one wanted a war, not on the face of their allegiances. Lord Tarrington hadn’t given any hint of this on the phone. There was a manipulative force –

  “Come on.” Hail pushed past Sam, his shoulder barging her into a side-table. She opened her mouth to protest, but he tensed and she flinched, thinking he might hit her. He had the fax, held up demonstratively. “The orders are clear.”

  He kept staring at Sam, accusingly, as he marched out of the room. The other agents gave her brief looks, concerned or angry, as they filed out after him. Farnham mumbled, “We’ll be waiting for your instructions in the field, ma’am.” Not serious.

  Sam realised she was shaking.

  The idiots. The gung-ho idiots. To say nothing of the idiots in London. It made even less sense than Tarrington’s phone call.

  Finally, only Landon and Tori remained, watching her with concern.

  “What do you want to do?” Landon asked.

  “What do you mean?” Sam said, a squeak of insecurity. “The Commission’s made their decision. It’s an awful one, but they’ve made it.”

  “Seems to me” – Landon cleared his throat – “that an order was presented, but Agent Hail took it before our acting commander was able to read it. Let alone process it.”

  Sam frowned. “What can we do? I can’t send you out there alone.”

  Landon took his time, not entirely certain, then shrugged. “Yes. You can.”

  15

  It wasn’t the first time Letty had been held at gunpoint with the promise of death or imprisonment or some other vile result at the end of a journey. Usually, the idiots could be talked around, or otherwise fought off. But Lightgate wasn’t like the guards who had cornered her during Val’s coup or the chancers who tried their hand at unsanctioned exile-hunting. She kept her distance, with her finger on the trigger, and appeared to be absolutely flexible about the outcome of her plans.

  The best Letty could hope for was to choose when to take a bullet.

  They were gliding over the warehouse district already, so it wasn’t like she’d be able to pick out somewhere scenic. Maybe over a chimney stack, to give Lightgate a nightmare of a job hauling her body out. But Lightgate wouldn’t give a shit about leaving a Fae corpse behind. She hadn’t cleared up in Broadplain, after all. She hadn’t asked for Letty’s phone when it rang, either; merely offered a look to suggest using it was a bad idea. At least its ringing suggested Pax was alive, trying to get hold of her.

  Not far from the FTC, as the building itself came into view, Lightgate glided closer to Letty. She had a brown bottle in her hand, and continued to knock back liquor without it seeming to affect her.

  “You ever offer it around?” Letty asked.

  “People normally say no,” Lightgate said, and took another long pull. She slowed down, then threw the bottle Letty’s way. It fell halfway between them and Letty hesitated a second before diving after it. When she caught it, Lightgate appeared high above her, limp pistol still trained on her.

  Letty hovered still to take a swig, ignoring the smell. It was practically gasoline. She winced it down, then hoarsely said, “I’m used to some strong shit, but that...”

  “My own mixture,” Lightgate said. “I call it Assault and Battery.”

  A play on battery acid, ground-up ammunition, or worse? Letty didn’t ask.

  “Now we’re chums, you ready to save yourself?”

  “Chums,” Letty said, taking another sniff of the bottle. It set her nostrils burning. With another Fae, the bottle might have been a weapon. Lightgate would expect that, though. Maybe even invite it. Letty tossed the drink up and Lightgate caught it by the neck, barely appearing to move. In case there was any doubt that she was quick.

  “I like you, Letty,” she said. “You’re too smart to be a hero. Heroes are fools, they get early graves. I’ve seen too many to count.”

  “That must’ve been tough for you,” Letty said. She looked ahead, towards the FTC building. The scouts might have picked them up at this distance, might be wondering if they’d come closer. Lightgate followed her gaze with a wistful look. They’d both been through some shit there, for sure.

  “You ever been back?” Lightgate asked.

  “Only the outskirts,” Letty said. “Nothing closer than the peripheries.”

  “I got a few ways in. Sympathetic guards, unwatched passages. I used to sit watching them, imagining it. The Fall of the Fae. Their precious buildings burning.”

  “They’ve got precious buildings now?”

  Lightgate smiled, just a little. “They’re dug in like barnacles. Slightly better tech, improved workshops, but the same dark cage. The same pathetic people.”

  “So why’d you come back?” Letty said. “Why go through any of this?”

  Lightgate gave it a second. “I miss the old days, don’t you?”

  “Not one bit. I want what came before the FTC, the days we never even saw. Back when Fae had a stake in this world, instead of a borrowed bit we might lose at any minute. That place has never been worth it.”

  “We can agree on that.” Lightgate saluted with another swig from the bottle. She paused as she lowered it, looking down to the streets. “But would you look at that.”

  Letty followed her gesture to a flicker of movement through the buildings. A human car, bouncing back sunlight from the windows and mirrors, kicking up dust from the broken road. Lightgate dropped closer to Letty and held out the bottle. Letty looked from the bottle to Lightgate’s pistols. One in hand, another holstered within grabbing distance.

  Letty took the bottle, had a painful swig, then handed it back.

  They watched, side by side, as another car appeared, three bloc
ks over. Unmistakably headed towards the FTC. Lightgate pointed: “And there.” A cloud of dust, way off towards the horizon, approaching from the other direction.

  “Ah hell,” Letty said quietly. Part of her had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that the humans had some sense. Surely they knew it hadn’t been a random attack, and they’d stop to ask who was really behind it before doing anything rash?

  The two nearest cars stopped at the same time. The dust in the distance settled, too. Lightgate nudged Letty and nodded the other way. Opposite side of the FTC, a fourth plume of dust.

  “What do you want to do?” Lightgate asked. “Watch and place some bets first?”

  The doors of the nearest car opened. Two men got out. Letty recognised the ginger one, his suit partly hidden behind panels of plasticky body armour. He went to the back of the car and opened the boot. He put on a padded helmet and a chunky backpack, the size and shape of a fridge. His companion came to strap a tube into it.

  “What are they using these days, do you suppose?” Lightgate said. “Fire or gas?”

  Letty didn’t answer. Both were possible.

  “Their detectors can’t be up to much. Shouldn’t they know we’re here?”

  “They know there’s Fae around,” Letty said. “At this distance, they can’t pinpoint us.”

  Lightgate took one last long pull on the bottle and belched. She tossed it away, to fall between the buildings, then drew her second pistol. She held it towards Letty.

  Letty stared at the gun suspiciously.

  “Come on, don’t be sour.”

  Chances were Lightgate would gun her down for trying to take it. Or gun her down the second she got the inkling Letty might use it on her. Might not even be loaded, might have some kind of safety catch.

  “I want you to enjoy this,” Lightgate said. “How often do you get the opportunity to hurt humans?”

  Sam kept her phone in her hand, looking at it anxiously, willing Landon to call and give her something. The field agents blinked on a digital map of the warehouse district, on a mounted wall monitor. Half the Support staff watched alongside her, silently waiting for the dots to move, while the others analysed data from their desks to provide detail.

 

‹ Prev