He continues, his tone more mellow. “So anyway, that was the price. Stop the nation building, or destroying. And of course, a scapegoat for the unexplained killings. There was no one else, it had to be you. I tried to give them Bateman, ironic really, wasn’t it, as he was actually responsible, wasn’t he? But of course they didn’t want that, they wanted to hurt us, well me. So I had to give them you. I couldn’t let it go, could I?”
He’s looking at my face, I guess looking for some sort of acknowledgement, acceptance, understanding. What can I do, I don’t really even get the meaning of those words, though I guess, to be honest, I accept his logic.
“What can I say” I smile. “Give me a Very Happy Pill and we’ll call it quits.”
He’s laughing and claps my shoulder. “Ha! Still dreaming of those, right? The day someone invents one of those, I will… Anyway, my question right?”
I bow my head slightly, so he asks “Have you betrayed me?”
“Not yet” I say.
“Which means you’re planning to?”
I sigh. “I don’t know yet.”
“Interesting, I guess. You planning to, just generally, or have you been offered a deal? Has a policeman, for instance, offered you sanctuary if you bring me in? I guess it’s not those vermin, at least.”
“Vermin?”
“Yes, those vermin, you know, those comedy jokers who call themselves policemen, what were their names? Carver and Moran?”
“But…” I start, “they’re dead…”
We stare at each other for a moment. “Dead?” he laughs, “why would you say that? I just saw Carver yesterday, still trying to extort money from me, even now he’s on the run.”
“On the run?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Yes, of course. Don’t you know any of this? They’re on the run from the police and god knows who else. Still trying to extort money from me. And with you know who after them too…Anyway, if you betray me, just do me a favour and let me know. Now, to business.”
As if on cue, Ruth walks in, and winks as me whilst Simon’s turned away from her.
“Now” Simon starts, “given the recent turmoil, we have come to an understanding with CAT that gets them off our backs, but we have had, I am afraid, to revise our business strategy.”
“That’s right” continues Ruth, seamlessly. “I was able to broker a deal between the various powers…”
“We” interrupts Simon.
“Excuse me?” it’s Ruth.
“We were able to broker a deal. Not you, on your own. I was absolutely involved in it and critical to making it happen.”
Ruth and I glance at each other.
“Well” starts Ruth, “all I meant was, given my contacts, and, erm, background.”
“As a spy” Simon says, smiling.
“Well, yes, as a spy, nonetheless it gave me advantages in creating an understanding with the authorities, and…”
“Let me tell you the deal that my darling Ruth got us” says Simon loudly, cutting over Ruth, and focusing his attention on me. “It goes something like this, we hand over all our propriety technology to the Governing Administration, in return for, what was it, darling? Please remind me. Oh yes, that was it! nothing.”
“May I remind you,” Ruth says, looking flustered, “that we got to keep the use of the technology."
“Yeah, just, and in such limited uses!”
“And” she continues, raising her voice,” I kept you out of prison!”
“Big deal. I’ve avoided prison all my life. Once you’d managed to weave your magic, dear, I had to get everyone back to the table and get us to a position where we could still function as a business. Can you imagine, what we would have…”
“It’s just because of your insane ambition! I mean, where did you get to, trying to control nations and wars! Look what you almost did!”
“Calm yourself, my dear” Simon replies, his voice surprisingly soft, “I was merely making the point that we did this together.”
Ruth sighs, and I say “why don’t we have a drink?”
“Wonderful idea!” exclaims Simon, and he touches a small pad by his hand. “Now, back to our strategy."
Reluctantly, Ruth gets up again. “As you can see, we are limited in the use of our technology…” (Simon smirks, Ruth ignores him), “and also our potential markets, those having also been limited by the Governing Authority…” (Simon chuckles, Ruth ignores him), “and therefore we have remodelled our business plan on a smaller, highly selective, trading group. We will provide outsourced, focused services, with specific and tangible goals, as required, to selective and carefully targeted clients, from all sectors of industry, in order to support their goal achievement in less than orthodox ways.”
“So…?” I ask
“Mercenaries!” shouts Simon. “We’re going to be mercenaries! Look,” he says excitedly, “we have the ability, well, almost, to construct the most lethal group of people possible, almost indestructible, with incredible strength and power. Imagine it, a small, targeted group, working for the most powerful corporations. It fits within the sad, sorry restrictions that we have and keeps our income stream. In fact, and I have to admit this, it actually improves it, given that corporations these days seem to be able to pay a lot more than government agencies…”
“OK” I nod, “makes sense…”
“Makes sense?” Simon laughs, “it’s brilliant! We have an advance order book of, well, let’s say, a large amount. Look, I’ll cut to the chase, I know we’ve had our differences, but you and I, we go back...”
“Like Tim…” I smile.
“Don’t” says Simon, flatly. He’s staring at me, in that scary way of his, until I look away and he smiles. “Look, John. We go back. I want you to be part of this. You can come back in. Forget any back door deals you may have done with people, forget wiping the slate clean, if that’s what they’ve offered you. You can come back in, you can have your power again, your money, your everything back. I mean, what’s the point of being free if you have, well, nothing? Imagine that. You would be one of the little people. You would even have to have a job and pay taxes!”
“So…” I say, switching my gaze between them, “you want to let me back in?”
“Yes!” they both say together.
“That’s brilliant” I say, “thanks.”
I’m not a man of words, or of feelings. I don’t do very much, life seems to happen around me and push me around from one place to the next, and I allow it to, I allow myself to be swayed by its constantly changing currents; not even that, it’s not like I am making a choice, I don’t think I have the mental strength to do anything different. So here I am, now, back in, back where I belong. The feeling of relief that sweeps over me is something so totally unexpected, and I suddenly understand the last few days, the last few weeks, it hasn’t been me, I’ve had to make do, I’ve had to be in strange situations with strange people and above all, I have had to think, and I have had to care, and I just can’t cope with that. I think of Sharllen, I think of her head on the boot of that truck, I think of almost feeling tears, I think of Babybro and the pain, the torture, really, what for.
Fuck you, Harry Simmons, fuck you and your police, I really don’t need you, and your forgiveness, I don’t need the slate wiped clean and I don’t need to betray Simon because right now, I am back where I need to be, back in the arms of the people that will protect me, will give me status and comfort, protection and security, sex and my car, and at the end of the day, what else does anyone need, really. Screw you, Harry Simmons, I’m not even going to tell you, you can find out in your own way and then you won’t be able to do anything about it in any case.
I am going to do a lot of drinking to celebrate. Maybe Ruth is up for… she certainly seems like she might be, if not, I wonder what Elena’s up to. I wonder what my apartment’s like, whether my car is in the garage. Maybe we could go for a late night spin.
“There’s just one t
hing” Simon says softly.
He’s looking steadily at me, and Ruth is looking away.
“Just one thing?” I ask.
Chapter 39
I guess the deal may not be quite as good as I hoped. There’s one ingredient missing in their plan, and I am the man to provide it. That’s my price. The conversation goes something like this.
Simon: “You did a good Superman thing the other night”
Me: “What?”
Simon: “You know, destroying that bar. Impressive stuff.”
Me: “You saw that?”
Simon: “Yes of course, I see everything. Impressive display of strength.”
Me: “Err”
Simon: “You’ve been building your muscles up?”
Me: “Err”
Simon: “You know, we found Bateman’s place. We found the rig, we found the capsules, everything. A couple of stray vampires, that could have been painful. But we looked through all the equipment, quite a neat little set up he had there. I had my best team go through it, take it apart, put it back together again. To be honest, it took them a long time to even figure out what it all meant, it took days piecing it all together. But eventually, there it was, it made sense. I had always wondered what had happened to the farmer’s wife, and there she was, a catalyst making the gateway happen. She was in a bit of a state, mind you. Elvira 10 power source, channelled through the gateway that made it, ingenious, use the power of a human soul to magnify the energy, to channel it and create the opening. That was the way it worked, right? Had to be a dark soul, though, didn’t it, it had to be tainted, of course?”
Me: “Well…”
Simon: “Brilliant, but Bateman couldn’t fix it, could he, he needed you, didn’t he, and then he sent you through there, right? How did he persuade you, by the way, I mean, John, don’t get me wrong, but you’ve never been the bravest of souls, if you’ll pardon the use of the word. How did he get you to go in there?”
Me: silent, looking down at my glass, I don’t feel like celebrating quite as much right now.
Simon: “That’s what happened, though, John, isn’t it, that’s what happened. You went in there, didn’t you, and you came out with huge strength didn’t you? That’s what we need. We need our mercenaries to get that strength, and then we are completely in business.”
Me: "So send them in there. The gateway’s still open, right?”
Simon (chuckling): “Yes, the gateway’s still open, for the moment at least, until she dies. Of course! Send them in there, that’ll do it, why on earth didn’t I think of that. Well thanks, John, problem solved, have a few happy pills and relax!”
Ruth (sighing): “Yes, we sent them in there" (quietly) “We did it enough times."
Me: “And?”
Ruth: “And nothing. We got some muffled, unintelligible conversation after an hour, after two hours the screaming started, and then everything died. We sent in five separate people, all the best, every time it was the same. By the fifth, of course, we were using extreme threats to get them in there.”
Simon: “But of course it worked with you. You got in. As far as we know, you’re the only one to have got in and got out again. And look what happened to you. We need all our team to be like you… I mean, physically, of course, I could do without a huge batch of screw ups."
Me (shrugging): “Maybe I’m lucky”.
Simon: “Well yes, maybe you are, maybe it’s your connection to the farmer’s wife, maybe it’s some protection you were given, who knows, I mean, who cares, right, that is not the point, is it. The point is that you got out, and that’s why you need to go back in. You need to establish a connection that we can use.”
I am turning to Ruth, to Simon, looking between them, and I realise that they actually mean it, they actually want me to go back Somewhere Else again.
Me: “I need a drink”
Simon: "You already have a drink”
Me: “Then I need a bigger one”
***
“OK, look,” I am saying, “even if I do go back in there, what difference will it make? I mean, we don’t know why I survived, we don’t know how the energy works, I mean, it’s never going to work, right. Really, Simon, look, I’ve got an idea, OK?”
I’m trying not to sound desperate. “You let me back in, we’ll get the team back together, we’ll work on it, we’ll figure it out, and then we’ll do it. How does that sound? Brilliant, yes, let’s do that, I tell you what, I’ll move back into my apartment, have an early night, then give me a call tomorrow and we’ll start, OK?”
“No, John.” Simon sighs.
“But, why not? I mean we’ve cracked these things before, we’ll do it again, let’s work together on it, come on, it’s a great plan. I’ll break my kit out, I’ll…”
“John”, Simon says more firmly, “we don’t have time. We only have until she dies, which is a day, two days maybe. We need to do something now, we have no choice.”
“But what!” I throw my hands up in despair. “What can we do? I don’t even know how I got out, what happened in there, I would have no idea what to do…” I trail off, seeing the look in his eyes, I know I’m not going to have a choice.
Simon knows it, too, he knows he has won and he is calmly waiting for me to accept it. There’s a tiny smile on his lips as he runs his hands through his hair, and glances at the door as someone comes in. I turn to see two people, who I don’t recognise. They’re young, serious, a man and a woman, dressed in white lab coats, both have short black hair, both wear glasses, both sit, together, at the far end of the table.
“Meet my new research team” Simon smiles.
The woman speaks, in a low, formal way.
“Mr Paris, good afternoon” and she coughs.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask.
Both of them look nervous, and she coughs again. “No, thank you, we don’t drink whilst at work. In fact” she adds, “we don’t drink. May I please introduce myself, I am Sarah Marsk, and this is my partner, Nicholas Elstrom. He doesn’t talk, I’m afraid.” She looks down at her papers, then back up at me.
“Mr Hart has informed us that you have kindly agreed to enter Virtual Recessionary Space, and we would like to brief you on the proposal to capture and reutilise the energy source there. I must warn you that it is very, very dangerous, and is based on our knowledge of the physics of VRS, which is extremely limited and is based only on recovered historical data. Due to the high mortality rate of exploration into this area, we have been unable to verify the legitimacy of a number of our assumptions. Therefore, before proceeding, we require you to sign this waiver form that removes any liability for your death or injury from Hart Enterprises.”
She slides a sheet of paper, and a pen across to me. I glance at Simon.
“Just sign it” he says, wearily.
***
It’s so cold here. The blood in my veins feels like it’s stopped moving, frozen to the vessels, peeling slowly through to the core, I am looking at my hands and I keep expecting to see them turn red and ooze frozen droplets of blood that are trying to escape. He is here, looking at me, nursing a drink, a drink that he hasn’t offered me as we sit at his broken kitchen table.
“You can’t come back” he whispers, “they never come back”
“I escaped” I reply, “don’t ask me how”
“You escaped, and now you’re back. Why are you back?”
“Mark…” I reach forward and touch his hand, he doesn’t withdraw. Instead he looks at me forlornly, with broken, blistered eyes.
“I’m sorry” he says, very quietly, the breath leaving his mouth crystallises and falls silently to the table. I am looking at him from behind a smokescreen. “I am sorry. Whenever people arrive, they always come here, and I must…”
“I don’t know where they come from. Can you tell me that, at least, where do you come from?”
But I can only shake my head and reply, “you need to come with me, now, please.”
>
“But they’ll be here soon” he says, dejectedly.
“I’m not going with them, this time” I reply, “and neither are you.”
“Where are we going?” he asks, as we move away from the block of flats, down the snow covered passageway into the darkness beyond. He’s blowing on his hands to keep warm.
“Hurry” I’m half walking, half running, I can’t go any faster because of the cold, I’m waiting for him to catch up, it’s taking time, I can see him struggling, I’m grabbing his arm and dragging him through the snow now, to a small mound, an old barn covered by the ice and the snow, we get up to it and I pull him behind it and sink to the ground, panting in exhaustion.
“What are we doing here?” he asks. “Shut up” I reply, and then there’s a crash and a flash of light that illuminates the black sky and he says “Oh!” and I say “shut up!” whispering fiercely, and then we hear sounds, sounds of people, shouting, and his eyes open wide with fright, and I clamp my blistered, bloody hand over his mouth as he starts to scream and I’m holding him down as he’s fighting with me, pushing me, biting my hand and trying to force himself out, force himself upwards, urgently, his eyes pleading, his face hysterical, and I let go, just for the tiniest time, the shortest amount, but it’s enough and he’s up, jumping up with renewed strength, trying to get away, I have my hand just on his leg now, my grip’s slipping as he’s trying to get away, with my other hand I reach out and find something hard, I pick it up, ignoring the pain searing through me, and throw it, blind, but it works, as the force dies and I roll out the way quickly to avoid his heavy body landing on me.
I brush the snow off me, and very carefully look round the shed, towards the buildings. People are milling around, dark figures dressed in dark uniform, flashlights beaming, it doesn’t look like they’ve heard anything but I need to act quickly, just in case. With my bare hands I start covering his body with snow, ignoring the pain as my blisters burst in the cold and the frozen blood stains the whiteness of the snow. Once it’s done I clean it up as best I can, get the blood out, then lie down next to him, and with the energy that I have left, I cover myself, taking a deep breath at the end and pushing my face deep into the snow.
The blackness surrounds us as we wait, as I wait, lying in the silence. In the vague outline of noise outside I can hear scratching noises, and they come and go, they are far, then they are near, and in my head I am sure I can feel their heat as they stand close to us, I pray they don’t stand on me. If I concentrate, I make out some words, something like “the girl” and “disappeared.”
Falling Page 20
