The New Capital: The second book in the Human Zoo series

by Kolin Wood

  Tanner thought for a moment. Reluctantly he nodded.

  “Good,” Teddy said. “Well then, now that’s cleared up, I have some other business to be getting on with so…”

  Tanner did not move.

  Teddy rolled his eyes.

  “That’s your cue to fuck off!” he said with a flick of his hand toward the door.

  Tanner’s face darkened and he stepped close to the desk.

  “One day soon,” he said, his teeth gritted slightly making his speech somewhat distorted, “I am going to kill you.”

  Teddy laughed, unimpressed with the threat. “Keep up the positive thinking Tanner. It’s good for the soul.”

  With a last stare at the back of Cole’s head, Tanner turned and walked to the door, barging past one of the guards on his way out onto the staircase. Teddy nodded at the guards to follow and the door was shut again, leaving the two of them alone once more. Teddy sat back heavily into his chair with a groan.

  “Christ,” he said. “All this over some broad.”

  He reached into his bottom drawer and began searching blindly in the clutter with his fingers. They closed around a smooth glass neck he pulled free the bottle containing a few fingers worth of Scotch.

  “Result!” he said, pouring himself a liberal measure.

  “Not sure what the celebrations are about,” Cole said, watching him. “Jan the Fez is gonna blow a gasket.”

  Teddy closed his eyes and drank down the amber fluid, not stopping until the glass was drained. Then, after a loud burp, he sighed. When he opened his eyes again, they were looking directly into Cole’s own.

  “Jan the Fez nothing,” he said. “From now until the fight Tanner will be at the gymnasium training. Few of the guards said they’ve seen him going down there. He’s only got a few days left.”

  Cole frowned and Teddy rolled his eyes.

  “It’ll mean the woman is left on her own in the house.”

  This time Cole caught on; his eyes sparkled with the knowledge.

  “Work out his routine, find out the best way to get to her, no noise, no upsets. Do it on the day of the fight.”

  “Then what?” Cole asked, his head turned ever so slightly to one side so that the good eye was trained more intently on him.

  “Then you kill her!” Teddy said sarcastically as if the answer had been obvious. He paused momentarily as an idea popped into his head.

  “On second thoughts, let the Fez do it; that should stop him banging on. But you explain to that little toe-rag that he is not to move before the day of the fight and only on your say so. If he touches her before the fight and fucks this up, I will personally pull his tongue out of his arsehole. Do you understand me?”

  Cole nodded. “He’ll be pleased. How do you want him to do it?”

  Teddy thought on it for a moment. Crimes such as these had always been dealt with in-house in the past; Krane had seen to it, often via a swift, public hanging at the bridge. It sent the message that there was no leniency to those waiting to be granted entry. Teddy had no interest nor inclination to become entwined in such trivial matters of the Capital. But this was not a normal case and the woman was not a normal criminal. This was Tanner’s last match in the Pit. Farringdon had granted the man freedom—and a healthy supply of stores—in return for two lousy matches. Now Teddy intended to see to it that Tanner never made it out of the ring. The woman offered leverage, and if nothing else, a chance to stoke the fires for the main event.

  “Have the Fez bring her to the Arena,” he said after a pause. “Tanner was foolish to give us a lever like that. He obviously cares far more for her than I had expected of him. Tell the Fez that he can have his fun, but I want her delivered alive and undamaged. I think it would be good for the people of the Capital to see what happens to murderers for themselves, don’t you?”

  Cole, looking happy at the decision, nodded, smiled, and made for the door.

  Teddy stood, lit a cigarette, and watched as Cole, with a heavy gait, made his way across the room. Even though the booze had helped regress the onset of his hangover, the symptoms were still there. He pulled at his collar, uncomfortable with sweat, as the door banged shut.

  Whatever accusations Tanner had been slinging at Cole, it was clear that the information had unnerved him. In truth, the more he learned, the more he sounded like a sick and twisted bastard. If things had been different—like they had been back on the manor before the culling—Teddy would have been the first one out there dealing with him. Back in those days, people looked after their own. Violence against women and children was something strongly frowned upon, and often dealt with as necessary. But they were no longer living in those times. Now, the days were dark and the nights darker. He needed them—the ones willing to go the extra mile—to help him with the things that nobody wanted to do.

  Men with a conscience were no good; they were unwilling to get done what needed to be done. Real change always meant bloodshed; it had been that way since the dawn of time.

  Teddy smiled; his bet now felt far safer and his dreams one step closer to attainment.

  Tanner, you truly are a fool, he thought.

  23

  The Capital felt like it was in the midst of a full blown carnival. People swamped the routes, blocking them like heavily clogged arteries. Makeshift bands played upbeat renditions of badly remembered folk songs from poorly constructed tents while vendors pumped out snacks of unidentifiable grilled meats and poured flagons of cloudy hooch. Most of those present, unable to afford the record prices being asked for the tickets, were not going to be granted access into the Pit venue itself, but such was the hype surrounding the fight that many just wanted to be as close to real time as was viably possible.

  Inside, Teddy Braydon stood at the top of the stairs to his office, dressed as always in an impeccable, dark suit. Below him, an army of his minion workers scurried with ropes and brooms, readying the new space for the big event. Teddy nodded his approval, a sense of accomplishment and a feeling of excitement in his belly.

  In the middle of the floor below, a new platform had been constructed which was busy being cordoned off into VIP seating. Plexiglas sheets, crudely welded together at the corners and supported with roughly cut, steel scaffolding, separated those inside from the masses beyond. Padded, navy blue seats—two rows of eight chairs only this time—made the space a far more exclusive area than ever before. Exclusive but risky; no longer would the wealthiest sit like emperors above the Colosseum. This time he wanted them close enough to be able to hear the bones crunch and a view that would allow the sweat and blood to splash onto the window. Directly in front of the VIP seating, the new fighting pit—a steel cage—rose up into the air. Razor wire finished the top with aggressive, shiny menace.

  The space truly was a work of impressive construction. Made even more so given the short time frame that he had been given to complete. It was now ‘all hands on deck’ and he was happy to see it all coming together. Tickets to the fight had sold out in the first hour, a new record, much to the annoyance of most of the Capital. The arena at full capacity would only hold a couple of thousand. But, Teddy did not care; he had already made a fortune, and that was exclusive of the money he would take from the interior vendors and bookies. Already, it had been a good day.

  “I think we’re ready,” a voice called up from below. “I’ve moved the first act to the containment lorry by the back entrance as instructed.”

  It was Jan the Fez. Having learned that he was to be instrumental in the downfall and punishment of the woman, Jan had suddenly become subservient to the point of being cringe worthy. Clearly he was desperate to get himself back into the good books of arguably the Capital’s most influential men.

  Teddy nodded but did not look down. He had decided to let it pass for now. He found it amusing that Sal was now simply referred to as the first act. This small title took the last of his humanity away.

  “I take it the dog is ready?” he asked.

  Now it was
Jan’s turn to chuckle. “Oh, she’s ready all right; bitch nearly took my hand off!”

  “Good. I need to open with something huge or else I’ll lose them all from the start.”

  Jan shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that, Teddy,” he said. “People outside would chew off their own testicles just to get standing room!”

  “Is that right?” Teddy asked, rhetorically.

  From under the archway, Cole strode across the empty space, climbed the steps, and as he came level, Teddy turned to face him.

  Jan, aggrieved at the snub, turned and vanished.

  “The cannibal,” Teddy said, without offering Cole a greeting. “I sincerely hope, for your sake, that he’s as good as you say he is.”

  The look he gave shimmered with the intended gravitas, and Teddy let it hang for a few seconds.

  “It would sure be a shame if we had to add an extra, unannounced billing to the proceedings.”

  Cole did not react to the threat, choosing instead to remain quiet. Teddy smiled. “But… IF he is as evil a bastard as you say he is, then we should be in for something truly magnificent. The look on Farringdon’s face as Tanner is not only beaten but also eaten alive, in front of a braying crowd—that’s something people will not want to miss. This fight should get that nonce away from the Pit, and me, for good.”

  Teddy continued to talk as he turned to watch the activity in the cage. “Tanner cost me with Billy Baker, that fucking gypsy prima donna… almost lost me everything, and you’re about to see what happens to the man who fed me that lie!”

  Cole simply nodded.

  “Good. Then tonight should be something very special.”

  24

  The cell beyond the door held the darkness within like a cave. Laser beams of harsh white light shone through the grilled opening, cutting the murk like a knife. The sharp imprint it left on the far wall became obscured as the two men looked inside.

  “You sure the fucker’s still alive?” Eddy said, his long, matted ginger hair hanging over his heavily bearded face.

  Jan the Fez stood on tiptoes, peering first one way and then the other.

  “Braydon had us chain it to the back wall by its neck when we first brought it in,” he said. “But then we were told that we were not allowed to go anywhere near it. Nobody was. He doesn’t want anybody messing with it before tomorrow.”

  The place reeked of decaying meat. On the floor next to the heavy cell door lay three metal trays covered in dried blood and grease, stacked one on top of the other. Eddy kicked one with his boot.

  “Well, somebody has been feeding it,” he said, turning up his nose. “Proper grim.”

  Jan nodded. “It must be those black-faced, army-looking mother fuckers, the ones that Braydon got in as his personal guard,” he replied. “They’d wipe his arse if he asked them too.”

  “What does it look like?” asked Eddy, peering once again into the black room.

  Jan smiled. “He’s a big one, for sure. Built like a friggin line-backer. Covered in blood from head to foot. To be fair, when it came in, it was barely awake. But the boys that brought him in—Jim and Gough—they said that the place was like a blood bath, all half-eaten dead bodies and shit. Apparently it even got to Magnus and those boys from the East road… did the whole crew… ate em from the inside out, eh.”

  Eddy grimaced and swung his boot at the door with a bang. From inside the cell something moved, producing a low-sounding hiss. He shuddered. “Well, I’m sure glad it’s Tanner and not me facing that thing. Fucking eating people… that’s some evil shit.”

  Jan did not reply, as he continued to stare into the cell. Just the mention of Tanner’s name had set his pulse racing again. Cole, the one-eyed freak, had told him only yesterday, that Braydon intended to use her as leverage to ensure a result come fight night. Leverage! The woman had slaughtered his best friend and there was no way that she was going to escape justice. Who did the old bastard think he was anyway? He had always treated him like a nobody, but now things were getting worse. Given half a chance and without the guns around, Jan would tear him apart. Fuck him and Cole both, suddenly acting up way above their pay grade. He was not about to give them the chance to fuck things up or set her free. One way or another, the bitch was going to die today. He would see to it personally.

  “Come on,” Eddy said, scratching his nose, “Let’s get away from here; the place stinks.”

  With a final look back into the cell, Jan nodded, sure he could see something moving in the dark.

  ***

  Cole watched them leave. Once he was sure that they were not going to return, he stepped out into the open, nodding at the guard who was sat on a chair nearby, bored and smoking a cigarette. The guard nodded in return, watching him but making no move to stop him.

  Near the metal door, the stench was so strong that Cole stopped breathing through his nose and began taking breaths only through his mouth. It was a technique that he had used for years, back in the prison, and the switch happened without thinking. The metal grill in the centre of the door sat low, forcing him to stoop. It contained thin, sharp slats, offering only a very limited view inside. Beyond the slats, the blackness was so complete that it looked almost tenable. Somewhere inside, cloaked in shadow amongst bones and puddles of congealed blood, a man with demon eyes was sat, probably watching him right now. He’d seen One Six Four disembowel people with his bare hands, using his sharp nails to tear open their stomachs and rip out their entrails from their still screaming bodies.

  Cole looked down at the handle and considered trying it. Another glance over to the guard showed that he was not even looking. But something held him back. For whatever it was lurking in darkness beyond the door, whichever lunatic that Teddy’s team had managed to subdue and bring back to the Capital, be it One Six Four or one of the other numbers, the guarantee for success still just was not enough. Tanner had to lose; the leverage on him was the only way to ensure that Cole himself stayed out of the Pit.

  25

  Jan’s palms were clammy with sweat as he ran the blade of his knife slowly against the wet stone in long, slow and precise movements. The house that he was now sat in—like many of the other houses in the Capital—had the windows crudely boarded, making surveillance from them an uncomfortable affair. Cole had told him to watch the place, get an understanding of Tanner’s movements so that they might steal in there while he was out and snatch the woman. The plan was sound except for the fact that Cole was working for Braydon, and Braydon could go fuck himself.

  Tanner’s house resided on the same street but the other end, as were many of the higher paid citizens of the city. Its enforced privacy meant that it was quiet, unnaturally so. It was no secret that Cole had already been offered one of the houses here. His almost surreal rise from obscurity to Tier Street was something well-talked about amongst the rest of the workers on Braydon’s payroll, some of whom had worked there from the beginning, often enduring slave-like conditions for the chance for a roof over their heads and something resembling food in their bellies. Jan was no different in his hatred towards the man.

  It was not until an hour later that the door to the house opened. Tanner, dressed in a dirty sweat suit with the hood up, stretched momentarily on the doorstep, twisting on his hips with a push of the elbows. Jan moved his face as close to the window as the boards would allow, searching the darkness in the doorway behind Tanner for a glimpse of the woman.

  Tanner turned and pulled the door behind him shut with a loud bang. He checked the street, turned, and headed off at a slow jog in the direction of the gate.

  Jan stood, rolling his head on his shoulders in an attempt to lessen the stiffness that had taken residence there. What if the woman was not even there? He had hoped to visibly confirm her presence in the house before he made his move—she had not been seen for a week.

  The balaclava itched his face as he pulled it down over his eyes and ears, sheathed his knife and slung his rifle strap ov
er his shoulder. Gone was the Fedora hat by which everybody in the city knew him. In fact, he doubted whether people would recognise him walking into the bar without it such was the rarity with which he was seen out in public without it. It was his trademark—his lucky charm, and he wished that he was wearing it now when he needed it most. However, the risk of being spotted with it on definitely outweighed the benefit of the comfort it provided to him.

  Outside, the street was empty. The lack of life in this section of the capital left the space dead and eerie, something helped by the dark and boarded tall buildings and lack of natural light. With a final check that he was indeed alone, Jan tugged up the collar on his jacket, pulled back the hammer on the gun, and made his way up the steps of Tanner’s house.

  ***

  Tension sat heavy in Juliana’s gut as she swung her legs from the bed and sidled over to the pile of clothes on the floor by the wall. With their plan set and in place, over the past few days Tanner had set to work and had managed to procure her of some clothing more befitting of a woman her shape and size. Gone were the paint-splattered overalls and musty, blue woollen jumper. In their stead, he had found her a pair of black slacks—still big around the waist but usable with the belt—and a fitted, black, woman’s vest top which plunged lower than she would have liked at the cleavage. A dark green, thick and warm hooded top with a small white tick on the front completed the ensemble. Even the old para-boots from the prison—always far too big for her—had been replaced with a pair of worn, brown, hiking boots with dark blue laces that fit her feet far better.

  She studied herself in the half mirror as she dressed, turning first one way and then the other, shocked at her skeletal form. The person looking back at her resembled her mother, a woman who had always been known for her hard face and permanent scowl. The whites of her eyes shone brightly from their deep, cavernous pits. Thin, colourless lips—now devoid of any excess fat—stretched taunt over white teeth which looked oddly over-sized in her mouth. A thin crown of dark hair fell loose at her shoulders. Juliana pushed it behind her ears in order to get a closer inspection of her face and the damage caused by the years of incarceration. Deep lines cascaded from her eyes at the sides and a deep crease ran through her forehead at the spot where her eyebrows met. The muscles groaned as she put a hand to her head and massaged the spot there, making an effort to relax her face. Everything always led her back to the same point; it was impossible to forget who was responsible.