The Controller

by Matt Brolly

  Rose pushed her palms against the cool metal of the doors but was unable to force them apart. ‘This can’t be the only way in.’

  As if in answer, the floor opened up.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said McBride, standing back just in time to avoid being swallowed by the trap door blended into the carpeted floor.

  Thick black smoke billowed through the opening, and they both fell to their knees on either side of the opening as two figures emerged each dressed in the same khaki uniform of the Railroad guards, both carrying weapons, both with gas masks strapped to their faces.

  In the fog of the smoke, neither guard had seen them. They had their back to them and Rose faced considered firing, only the negative connotation of shooting someone in the back, and the faint possibility that they were innocent, preventing her.

  McBride gave them a warning. ‘FBI,’ he shouted, as both guards swung their guns in his direction.

  The movement roused Rose from her hesitancy. She fired at the two guards from her position on the ground and ran towards them as they fell.

  McBride nodded and tore the gas mask off one of the guards. He handed it to Rose, but she shook her head and repeated the move on the other guard who was still alive. ‘You want to live, tell me what is happening down there,’ she said.

  Rose began choking on the black smoke as McBride urged her to place the mask on. As the smoke clouded the guard’s face, she heard him utter, ‘it’s the end.’

  Lynch counted three detonations, the source infinitely more powerful than the hand grenades he’d set off in the computer area. The first must have been close as the residual blast had pushed him against the wall. He’d managed to grab Daniel, and shielded him as the wave sent him careering into the hard stone. He hadn’t heard it, but he’d felt his bones crack. Daniel was unconscious in his arms, his pulse weak. Lynch held him tight with his left arm, and struggled to move the fingers of his right hand resting on the boy’s head. ‘We’re going to have to move soon,’ he whispered to Daniel. ‘Soon,’ he repeated, knowing his legs were no longer working.

  The end was a fine description. After descending the spiral staircase, Rose found herself in a version of hell. She was taken back to the compound, and the attack on Razinski and her colleagues. The cavernous space reminded her of that place, as did the sight before her.

  Bodies littered the floor of the building, some dressed in guard uniforms, others in civvies. Most were victims of the black smoke curling around the beams of light that fell from the floodlights shaped high into the rock. Pockets of fire sprang up as they moved through the mass of bodies, into a second area where hundreds of shipping containers stretched into the distance. ‘What is the place?’ said Rose, her words swallowed by the breathing apparatus strapped onto her face.

  McBride turned his head at the sound of sirens in the distance and pointed back the way they’d come.

  Rose shook her head. ‘We need to find Lynch,’ she said.

  McBride couldn’t have heard her but he followed as she made her way towards the containers.

  Acid-like tears stung Lynch’s eyes. He tried to blink them away, realizing he must have fallen asleep. He shuddered, his hand reaching for the bundle of bones in his arms. He let out a cry of relief as he felt the brittle beat of his son’s heartbeat through his ribcage.

  He refused to come so far only for it to end like this. He owed it to Daniel, owed Sally the opportunity to see her son once more. He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the floor, his weight landing on his right ankle.

  The sound he made momentarily woke Daniel from his sleep. The boy’s eyes flickered opened as Lynch tried to control the scream of anguish as his shattered ankle slipped, and cracked further.

  ‘Looks like you ‘ain’t going nowhere.’

  Lynch glanced up at a towering figure who was replacing a gas mask back onto his face. He thought back, trying to remember to match the sound of the man’s voice. ‘You’re one of Mallard’s harem,’ said Lynch.

  The man lifted his mask. ‘I knew you would bring trouble with you.’

  ‘You tell the Controller that? Or were you too scared?’ said Lynch.

  The man was impossible to read with his mask on. ‘I wouldn’t question him but I know what he would want me to do.’ The man bent on his haunches. He removed his mask and coughed into Lynch’s face. ‘First I’m going to kill you. Then I’m going to take your son. I promise I’ll look after him. I’ll look after him forever, Lynch. You hear me? Forever?’

  Lynch twisted his head, offering his ear to the man. Mustering his last ounce of strength, he dropped his right forearm onto the floor and picked up a shard of metal from the explosion. He gripped it tight, slivers of pain rushing through his broken hand, and he drove it as hard as he could into the man’s throat.

  The man’s eyes widened. He tilted his head, his face a question, the shard sticking out of his throat now coated in cascading blood.

  ‘Forever,’ said Lynch, as he pushed the man off him, the shard of metal plunging deeper into the man’s neck as he landed.

  ‘Forever,’ he repeated, his eyes closing as he shielded Daniel as best as he could.

  Rose wiped the soot from her burning eyes. The fires were breaking out everywhere now, and no one paid attention to either of them as they reached the first container. Rose pulled opened a slat in the side of the container and peered inside. At first, she couldn’t see anything, the gloom inside almost impenetrable. She took off her gas mask and tried as best she could to clear her eyes. Blinking back stinging tears she made out the outline of a slumped figure in the corner. ‘Stand clear,’ she said, firing her revolver into the hinge of the lock holding the door in place.

  Together, they pulled at the lock eventually forcing it free. ‘What is this place?’ she said, as she made her way across the floor of the cell, past buckets of human waste, to the child in the corner. She placed her hand on the figure, a girl no older than ten, and breathed a sigh of relief as the girl flinched.

  ‘Here,’ said McBride, placing his mask over the girl as three figures entered the cell and pointed their guns at them.

  Lynch slipped in and out of consciousness, each time relieved to feel Daniel still in his arms. The smoke was clearing but the hope of being rescued was destroyed when another figure came into view, its face coated in shadow. ‘I tried to help you,’ it said.

  Ethan still carried the wounds Lynch inflicted on him. His nose was flattened against the side of his cheek and his left arm dangled to his side.

  ‘I had to find my son,’ said Lynch, unapologetic.

  ‘I tried to help you.’

  ‘Why don’t you help yourself by getting out of here while you can.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. He wants to see you.’

  ‘Mallard?’

  ‘The Controller.’

  Lynch laughed. ‘The Controller.’ He spat the words out of his mouth. ‘He’s not in control anymore, boy.’

  Ethan looked at the dead guard to Lynch’s side. He plucked the metal shard from the man’s neck and lent forwards to Lynch, grabbing his broken right arm. ‘You’re coming with me.’

  Lynch sucked in the pain, refusing to give it voice. ‘You want me to go, you’re going to have to drag me all the way there.’

  ‘That can be arranged. But the Controller says you’re to come alone.’

  Lynch waved his useless hand at Ethan as he tried to pry Daniel from his arms. As Ethan got in close, Lynch struck his head hard against Ethan’s broken nose but the boy kept fighting.

  There was no way he was going to give Daniel up.

  Ethan began to understand as much. He retreated and pulled out a gun. ‘Let the boy go or I’ll put a bullet in his head.’

  As he said the words, his distorted face froze as a bullet entered the back of his head. His body fell to the floor, revealing his assassin.

  Agent Rose stood before him, her gun still held out in front of her. To her side, was her colleague, behind them thr
ee armed uniformed police officers.

  Lynch had never seen a more wonderful sight in his life.

  66

  The knocking came in the middle of night. It took a few minutes for the sound to register, the incessant rhythmic thud of fists on wood the sound of a train rattling along the tracks.Lynch blinked his eyes open. The room was familiar yet alien to him. Behind him a machine pumped out the occasional electric noise, and his eyes followed the path of a tube snaking from a container high on his left to the vein in his arm. As he accustomed himself to his whereabouts, he was relieved to see the glass door of his room was ajar.

  ‘You awake?’

  The voice was soft, dream-like, and Sandra Rose glided into the room as if floating on air.

  ‘What have they got me on?’ said Lynch, his voice dry and hoarse.

  ‘You’ve lost a lot of blood and fluids. A lot of everything.’

  ‘This doesn’t feel real. Am I dreaming?’

  Rose laughed, the sound kind. ‘No, I think your drugs are kicking in.’

  Lynch’s heart stopped as he remembered. ‘Daniel?’

  Rose smiled. ‘He’s here too.’

  He slept some more, and when he awoke he tried to get out of bed.

  ‘Samuel, wait,’ said Rose.

  Lynch was unable to move his arms and for a second he feared he was tied to the bed.

  ‘Your arms are broken,’ said Rose, placing a cold hand on his forehead.

  Lynch glanced suspiciously at the white plaster covering his arms. ‘I need to see Daniel.’

  ‘Sleep some more. I promise I’ll take you to see him in the morning.’

  Morning came and the effect of the drugs was beginning to wear off. Lynch’s body felt more alive than he could ever remember, every inch of him in excruciating pain.

  Rose understood the stricken look on his face and called for help. A nurse arrived and seconds later the pain eased. ‘Daniel,’ whispered Lynch, as he fell under once more

  Later that day, he was ready to see his son. The fug of the new drugs had worn off and although the pain was uncomfortable, he was willing to endure it for Daniel’s sake.

  Rose wheeled him through the hospital. Everyone they passed smiled at him as if he was an exhibit. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

  ‘Thank you, Rose,’ he said, as she wheeled him into the hospital room.

  Daniel was awake, IV equipment pumping fluids into his veins, a mask over his eyes. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Rose.

  Lynch nodded and glanced at Sally who was sitting in a chair next to her son, fighting back tears.

  At first he was unable to speak. Every time he opened his mouth, he started to cry, and he wondered if he would ever be able to speak again. Sally nodded at him, willing him on.

  ‘Daniel,’ said Lynch. ‘It’s Daddy.’

  The boy stirred. His eye mask lifted as he smiled, revealing the outlines of scarring where his eyes had been removed. ‘Daddy,’ he said.

  Lynch hung his and began sobbing.

  Rose watched from the corridor, leaving Lynch to his joy and grief as he began crying and was consoled by his ex-wife.

  It was three days since they’d found Lynch and his son at the underground prison. She’d spent nearly every waking moment at the place, and was due to return there shortly. Even now, they were still trying to make sense of what had happened. Over three hundred people had lost their lives in the last seventy-hours, the majority from suffocation. Many of them had died in their shipping container cells.

  At headquarters, teams were working on the fallen prisoners. Matching them to the missing persons reports stretching back for years, sometimes decades.

  Miller and Roberts had been suspended from their roles following the revelation they’d prevented Rose and McBride from visiting the compound, the ownership of which had now been linked to a holding company owned by the Mallard family. An agreement stretching back to the early twentieth century had given the Mallard family protective rights of the land. The press had already become involved, and the bureau and government were busy trying to answer legitimate questions as to why such a place existed.

  The search for Mallard and Balfour continued. Neither man had been found at the compound. The explosions destroyed most of the infrastructure and, although some digital files were recovered, nothing of interest had yet been uncovered.

  Abigail met her in the lobby of the hospital. She was dressed in black and stood frigid as Rose approached her. The sisters stared at each other as if about to attack.

  Rose’s mother had died during the siege at Mallard’s compound. A single voicemail was waiting for Rose as she sat in the back of the ambulance rushing Lynch to the hospital.

  ‘Well?’ said Abigail.

  Rose didn’t say anything. What could she say? She hadn’t been there for her mother’s death, hadn’t said goodbye, had allowed her younger sister to suffer that burden alone. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Abigail who stood frozen, her arms by her side.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Rose, squeezing harder.

  They stood that way for what felt like minutes until Abigail’s body finally softened. She lifted her arms and hugged her sister back, and Rose didn’t want her to ever let go.

  Epilogue

  The Controller, still stripped to the waist, led the way through the narrow confines of the tunnel, the one designed by Edward Gunn, his feet either side of the disused railroad track twisting along the ground. Behind him, head bowed, followed the former FBI agent, Balfour.

  All those years before, when he’d first taken Daniel Lynch, the Controller had suspected it would come to this or something like it. Lynch was a challenge of his own making. Lynch brought chaos, and an unwillingness to concede the Controller had never encountered. He’d been right and wrong about the man. They were more alike than Lynch would ever admit but not as much alike as the Controller had first envisaged.

  He’d watched Ethan help Lynch escape, smiled as Lynch turned on the man and set off the first explosions. He could have intervened at any moment but the time had come to start again. It was he who had set off the second and third set of explosions much to the bemusement of Balfour who’d followed him around like a nervous puppy.

  The whole operation had grown stale. They’d reached such a state of nirvana that they could get away with anything and where was the challenge in that? The Railroad legacy was over, he needed to start again. Not that he need start from scratch. The majority of his wealth was still undetectable, would remain so after the forthcoming FBI investigation.

  A cold draught caressed his skin, signaling they were near the end of the tunnel. A car waited for them but he had one last operation to conduct before he began his new life.

  Balfour stopped at the threshold of the tunnel’s exit as the Controller removed the knife from his holdall. ‘You deserve this, Mr Balfour. You’ve always been a tremendous servant.’

  Balfour bowed.

  ‘Where?’ said the Controller.

  Balfour pulled open his shirt revealing a chest decorated with intersecting railroad tracks, each carved onto his skin by the Controller’s hand.

  Balfour closed his eyes as the Controller made the incision.

  ‘You deserve this,’ repeated the Controller, lifting the knife and plunging it into Balfour’s neck.

  If Balfour was shocked, he didn’t show it. He held the Controller’s gaze as blood gurgled from his mouth and uttered something that sounded like, ‘thank you,’ before falling to the ground.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said the Controller, dropping the knife he’d used so many times before and heading out into the light to start again.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank the wonderful people of Texas for inspiring me to write this tale. In particular, big thanks to Beth Eardley, Warren Eardley, Regina Eardley, Walter Eardley, Laura Calhoun, John Calhoun, and the rest of the Eardley and Calhoun clans for always making me so welcome when I visit.

  Thank
s to Pat Jolly, Matt Wulff, Alexia Capsomidis, and Joe Brolly for early feedback on the novel and Matt Davies for the evocative cover.

  Special mention and thanks to Ann Eardley for final read and editorial notes.

  And as always, last thanks for Alison, Freya, and Hamish for sharing my Texas adventures with me.

  About the Author

  Following his law degree where he developed an interest in criminal law, Matt Brolly completed his Masters in Creative Writing at Glasgow University.

  He is the bestselling author of the DCI Lambert crime novels, Dead Eyed, Dead Lucky, Dead Embers and Dead Time. A DCI Lambert prequel, Dead Water, will be available in August 2019. In addition he is the author of the acclaimed near future crime novel, Zero.

  In 2020 the first of a new crime series set in the West Country of the UK, The Crossing, will be released by Thomas and Mercer (Amazon Publishing)

  Matt also writes children's books as M.J. Brolly. His first children's book, The Sleeping Bug, was released by Oblong Books in December 2018.

  Matt lives in London with his wife and their two young children. You can find out more about Matt at his website MattBrolly.co.uk or by following him on twitter: @MattBrollyUK

  Also by Matt Brolly

  DCI Lambert Series

  Prequel Novella - Dead Water coming August 2019

  Dead Eyed

  Dead Lucky

  Dead Embers

  Dead Time

  Other Novels

  Zero

  The Crossing - February 2019

  For Children as MJ Brolly

  The Sleeping Bug