The Controller

by Matt Brolly

  ‘Relax, McBride, we’re a maximum twenty-five miles from an area with reception. Probably much less. As long as we’ve got our legs we’ll be ok.’

  They passed a smallholding, a wooden shack with boarded up windows. In the distance, behind the building, Rose saw the outline of ancient railroad tracks, the sleepers covered by weeds and dirt. The remnants of the steel tracks made her feel she’d made the right choice by continuing west.

  The road ran parallel to the tracks for the next five miles before diverting and stretching into the distance. If McBride had seen the tracks, he chose not to comment. ‘That’s twenty-three miles now and still no signal,’ he said. ‘Suggests we made the correct choice, though why the hell he came out here I don’t know. He could have been meeting someone, I guess. Good place for an exchange.’

  The thought had occurred to Rose though she was convinced that something was occurring here beyond illicit meetings.

  ‘We’re back,’ said McBride, flashing his iPad at Rose. Twenty-three point six miles since the GPS went out.

  Rose stopped the car. Although there was no crossroads this time, the area looked identical to before. ‘He must have taken one of the turnings,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, maybe. That’s if this was the correct road. There’s too many possibilities. We’re never going to discover where he travelled.’

  ‘We could do a flyover, check for locations.’

  McBride sighed but didn’t answer.

  Rose was about to turn back when both their phones rang at the same time. They checked, both had received voice message from headquarters.

  ‘Special Agent Rose, McBride, joint message for you.’ It was the voice of Hawken, McBride’s tech consultant.

  Rose switched on the speakerphone.

  ‘I was intrigued by the little conundrum you find yourself in so took it upon myself to do a little bit more research. I entered all the addresses the three Gunn vehicles had visited in the last six months. One recurring address I had seemingly overlooked. I thought you might be interested as it is a flagged address. Mrs Gunn visited the same address eighteen times in a three-month period. The house belongs to a Captain Iain Haig. I believe you are acquainted with the man, Agent Rose?’

  Rose hung up, her heart racing.

  ‘That’s the same Captain Haig who was at the Gunn scene?’ asked McBride.

  Rose nodded. ‘And the same Captain Haig who’s been protecting Lynch’s ex-wife.’

  45

  Lynch didn’t believe in haunted spaces. A former colleague once told him about a house she’d come close to purchasing. In the end her reason for not doing so was based on the house having a ‘bad feeling’. She asked him if he understood what she meant and he’d nodded politely, not having a clue what she meant.

  He hadn’t understood how a building could have a bad feeling until the second he’d walked out of the elevator doors.

  The area had much in common with the Bureau compound where they’d taken Razinski. It had the same open feel, a vast area with the atmospherics of an underground bunker. There the similarities ended. At first glance, the space appeared devoid of personnel yet Lynch could hear the hive of activity somewhere in the distance.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Mallard, with an obvious pride.

  Lynch would have shrugged his shoulders if his hands hadn’t been cuffed behind him. ‘It’s a warehouse of some sort.’

  ‘Very good, Mr Lynch. What you see in front of you is a but a fraction of the space.’

  ‘Great, where’s my son?’

  Mallard laughed. ‘Where are my manners? Of course, but it would be remiss of me not to show you around first, no?’

  Lynch followed Mallard, eyes alert to his surroundings. Numerous cameras pointed towards him and as he turned a corner he saw the first of the guards. Each wore the same black uniform and carried identical firearms. Lynch wondered if they were private hire or if each was a member of the Railroad. ‘So this is a kind of club house for your society?’ he asked.

  Mallard had stopped next to another set of doors, thick steel monstrosities that stretched from floor to ceiling.

  ‘Club house?’ said Mallard, his attention elsewhere.

  ‘For your society. We call you the Railroad.’

  The alertness returned to Mallard’s eyes. ‘I’m aware of what you call us,’ he replied, smiling.

  ‘Where are your tattoos?’ continued Lynch, trying to provoke a reaction from the man.

  ‘We call them honor marks,’ said Mallard.

  ‘Honor marks? You’re fucking kidding me?’

  ‘Why would I do that, Mr Lynch? I’m deadly serious.’

  ‘Tell me about the marks, then.’

  ‘First, let me ask what you think they are.’

  ‘I’ve seen similar many times before. The penitentiary system is full of sick fucks inking their skin to mark their conquests. Murders, rapes, I imagine your tracks are little different.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Mallard, slipping his mask of perfection and revealing the ugly truth.

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  Mallard gazed at the new set of doors as if they held some great conundrum. ‘You appreciate I am aware of your questioning techniques?’

  ‘Sure, you’re in charge here, Mallard. You tell me what you want.’ Lynch was intrigued by what lay behind the doors but wasn’t about to let on to Mallard. With neither man speaking, he could hear the hum of activity from behind the steel barriers.

  Mallard turned him. Once again, Lynch was struck by the intensity in the man’s gaze; it took all his strength to maintain eye contact. He felt Mallard assess him and waited for the verdict. ‘It would be easier if I demonstrated it to you,’ said Mallard, as the steel doors began opening.

  A wave of heat swarmed towards Lynch as he followed Mallard through the opening. Two further guards greeted Mallard by lowering their heads. They ignored Lynch as he moved into the secondary compound, trying his best to make sense of what he was seeing.

  At first glance it reminded Lynch of the visions of Area 51 he’d seen in films and television – ship containers piled on high stretching into the distance. On closer inspection, he noticed a semblance of order. The large containers were arranged in order. Each was painted black, illuminated only by the occasional spotlight shining down on them like an artificial sun.

  Mallard watched him with a mounting glee, waiting for him to reach his conclusion.

  ‘They’re rooms,’ said Lynch.

  ‘Good,’ said Mallard, prompting him to elaborate.

  ‘Prisons.’

  ‘You’ve got it,’ said Mallard, with a joyous rise to his voice. ‘Have you seen this?’ he continued, pointing to the gravel beneath their feet.

  Lynch had noticed the parallel metal tracks on the ground stretching towards the makeshift prisons.

  ‘Too much?’ said Mallard.

  Lynch was stunned as a miniature steam train approached them, the kind he’d seen in theme parks as a child. The train pulled a single carriage containing two rows of pristine leather armchairs. It was the juxtaposition of seeing the children’s novelty train in such a forbidding area that threw him. He couldn’t help but wonder if Daniel had ridden the train; if he now resided in one of the metallic containers in the distance.

  ‘Shall we?’ said Mallard, hauling Lynch onto the train carriage.

  Lynch swallowed, his mouth dry and wordless as the train pulled away.

  ‘You see we recruit our members, Mr Lynch. Yes, we are elitist. As I mentioned, there are only a select few who can understand what we are about.’

  ‘What are you about, you sick fuck?’

  The train stopped outside one of the containers. The number forty-nine was painted outside in a dull green. ‘Come,’ said Mallard, dragging him from the carriage. Lynch shuddered as he moved towards the container, Mallard running his fingers over the painted numbering. He slid a metal shutter across and peered inside as Lynch searched for an escape route.
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  ‘Look,’ said Mallard, his face flushed.

  Was it Daniel? Lynch wasn’t sure he could look into the container.

  ‘It’s not your son, if that’s your concern,’ said Mallard, as Lynch stood his ground.

  Lynch didn’t move, nausea rising within him as his mind considered what lay behind the shutter.

  ‘If you want to understand us, Mr Lynch, this is your chance.’

  Lynch fought the urge to attack the man. They were alone but he was sure somewhere in the shadows a gun was pointed at him. He had to do it for Daniel. He moved towards the shutter, Mallard grinning as Lynch placed his head into the opening. His eyes were still closed as he felt the weight of Mallard’s hand on his back.

  He opened his eyes and was rewarded with a laugh from Mallard. ‘That, in part,’ said Mallard, ‘is how you receive an honor mark.’

  46

  ‘Shall I call it in?’ asked McBride.

  ‘No. I don’t want anything to alert Haig. Call Hawken and tell him to keep the information to himself.’

  Rose was loath to leave the area, especially considering the amount of the time it had taken to reach there. She tried to process Hawken’s information as she drove to Dimmit County, drowning out the noise of McBride talking to the OTD agent in the background. How was Haig linked to all this? She remembered his professionalism at the Gunn house, how he’d kept his troops in order despite Razinski having killed one of his men.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence. If Mrs Gunn had been travelling to Haig’s house on a regular basis then Haig should have declared it. They needed to speak to him whilst they had the chance, before someone else got to him.

  ‘Hawken hasn’t told anyone,’ said McBride. ‘Happy to keep it to himself for now.’

  ‘Can he be trusted?’

  McBride frowned as if insulted by the question. ‘So what was this Captain Haig like?’

  Rose recapped the incident.

  ‘So Haig called it in to us?’

  ‘Yes. Razinski demanded the Bureau were called in and Haig obliged even though one of his men were down. I did a bit of research on him on the way to the scene. Ex-military. Appeared to be well respected by his team.’

  ‘You think he knew Razinski?’

  ‘Until now, no.’

  It was after midnight by the time they reached Dimmit County. They stayed the night in a hotel on the outskirts of the city before taking a two-hour journey to Haig’s department in the morning. They parked up a hundred yards from the station. Haig arrived an hour later, alone, carrying a tray of coffees.

  ‘That’s the kind of boss I need,’ said McBride.

  ‘Be careful what you wish for.’

  They waited ten minutes before moving in. They were greeted by a Deputy who barely looked old enough to put on the uniform, despite the tiredness emanating from his eyes. Rose didn’t remember the man being at the Gunn house. ‘How can I help you?’ said the youngster, in a thick Texan drawl.

  Rose showed the deputy her badge. ‘Special Agents Rose and McBride. We’re here to see Captain Haig.’

  This got the officer’s attention. He flushed red, his body rigid as if he was trying to stand to attention. ‘Yes Ma’am, please wait here,’ he said.

  Rose shifted her body to the left, checking the weight of her firearm inside her jacket. She sensed McBride was on edge as well. Too much had happened in the last week for them not to be on high alert. If Haig was somehow connected to the Railroad then they needed to be prepared for the worst.

  ‘Special Agent Rose, a lovely surprise.’ Captain Ian Haig stood in the doorway. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, his marine tattoos displayed proudly on his muscular arms.

  Rose’s eyes darted to the gun at Haig’s side. ‘Captain Haig. This is my colleague, Special Agent McBride. Apologies for not calling in advance.’ Rose hoped her tone was neutral, professional yet approachable, though she feared she sounded too formal.

  ‘No problem. Please come through. Can I get you anything? Some coffee perhaps?’ Haig smiled at them as he held the door open.

  ‘Coffee would be great,’ said Rose.

  ‘See to that, Mitch,’ said Haig.

  Rose recognized some of the faces in the bullpen from the Gunn house and received a nod of recognition from the heavyset Deputy she knew only as Check-Shirt, who’d attacked Razinski at the scene. She hadn’t blamed him then and certainly didn’t now. She returned the gesture as Haig led them through to his office.

  A flicker of hesitation came over Haig as he sat behind his desk. ‘How can I help you?’ he said, holding Rose’s gaze.

  Rose didn’t immediately respond. She stared back at Haig. Part of her wanted him to come clean. He’d acted so professionally at the scene that she still found it difficult to believe he had anything to do with Razinski and the Railroad. ‘You knew Edward Gunn,’ she said, after a time. Her eyes never left his, studying his response like a poker player.

  Haig’s left eye twitched but he didn’t speak.

  ‘And Laney Gunn as well,’ added McBride.

  Haig shrugged, a false smile on his face. ‘You make me feel like I need an attorney,’ he said, with a lightness betrayed by the sweat on his brow.

  ‘Are you going to tell us or are we going to tell you?’ said Rose.

  Haig’s eyes glazed over as he went through some internal struggle. He was either deciding to come clean or was about to spin some elaborate tale.

  Rose waited. Haig was an experienced interrogator and would know all the tricks but she wanted him to speak first.

  ‘Okay, what do you think you know?’ he said, eventually.

  Rose exchanged looks with McBride. ‘We know you visited Mrs Gunn on more than one occasion prior to her murder,’ she said.

  ‘And the murder of her whole family,’ added McBride. ‘You live alone, Haig?’

  Haig nodded.

  ‘Widower?’

  Haig nodded again as if unable to speak.

  Anger spread over McBride’s face. ‘What was it then? An affair, or was it love?’ he said, with a sneer.

  ‘I made a mistake,’ said Haig.

  ‘A mistake?’ said McBride, incredulous.

  ‘I met Laney outside of work. We went out for a few coffees and then started seeing each other. She was married, yes, but it was a loveless marriage.’

  ‘You’re going to need to give us some more to go on here, Iain,’ said Rose. ‘How long were you seeing her for?’

  ‘About fourteen months. It wasn’t really serious. I saw her once or twice a month at most.’

  ‘You do this a lot then?’ said McBride. ‘Little extra service from the local law enforcement.’

  Haig bristled. ‘What’s it to do with you, son?’

  ‘Come on, Iain. Think straight. You have an affair with a woman who ends up murdered along with her family, and one of your officers for that matter, and you don’t volunteer any information about it. It’s the end of your career for one, you must realize that,’ said Rose.

  Haig stared at her. ‘Of course.’

  ‘But it can be much worse, Iain,’ said Rose, growing impatient.

  ‘What do you want me to say?’

  ‘You can start by telling us why the hell you didn’t react or say anything at the Gunn house.’

  ‘What was I going to say? That I was screwing the woman with no fucking head?’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what you should have said,’ said McBride, standing. The anger was not an act. He leant over Haig’s desk, inches from his face. ‘Forty-one people, forty-one of my colleagues, died because of your inaction.’

  Haig matched his gaze. ‘I didn’t know Razinski. This had nothing to do with me.’

  Rose shook her head, dismayed to hear such pitiful words from a man she’d once respected. ‘I really struggle with that, Iain. It doesn’t matter if you knew Razinski or not. Whether it’s relevant or not, your affair with Laney Gunn is a possible motive for Razinski’s actions. You know as well as I do that this
information could have proved vital to the investigation. Your inaction could have led to those deaths and you’re going to have a lifetime to consider that. Now do your conscience a favor and tell me what you know about the Gunn family.’

  The enormity of Haig’s situation was beginning to dawn on him. His hands were shaking and he failed to make eye contact with either of them. ‘Laney was a high school teacher,’ he said, with a failing voice.

  ‘And Mr Gunn?’

  It was a split second hesitation but Rose caught it. ‘He was something big in construction. A consultant architect on large projects.’

  ‘Worth a lot of money?’ asked McBride.

  ‘Fuck off, McBride. I wasn’t after their money.’

  Rose paused, considering the speed of Haig’s response, the supposed injustice in his voice. A picture started formulating in her mind. ‘Did you investigate him?’ she asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What I mean Captain Haig is, did you use government time and money to look into the background of Edward Gunn and the work he did for Hanning Industries?’

  Haig didn’t respond and it was all the answer she needed. She pulled out her firearm, McBride at first surprised, doing the same. ‘What did you find out?’ she said.

  ‘What the hell is this, you can’t draw your gun on me.’

  ‘You’re under arrest, didn’t we say?’ said Rose, nodding to McBride to cuff the man.

  She kept her gun pointed squarely at Haig’s chest as McBride moved behind Haig. At this stage she didn’t think Haig was one of the Railroad but she wasn’t willing to take that chance. McBride managed to cuff him, pulling his arms behind his back before pushing him into his seat.

  ‘I repeat, what did you find out?’

  ‘Fuck you, I want my attorney.’

  ‘Fuck me? You’re responsible for the death of forty-one federal agents. You’re a potential terrorist. It will be a long time before you see any legal representation. Now, help yourself and tell me what you know.’

  On cue, McBride slammed the man’s head onto his desk the side of his face catching the corner of his plastic computer keyboard.