As the others approached the canvas awning over the back of the Bedford, Stephanie suddenly poked her head from under it. They were all soaking wet and splattered with mud, and for a moment, she regarded them with a look of consternation. Then she saw Chester. “Hi, it’s you! Gramps didn’t tell me you were coming, too.”
“Er . . . yeah,” Chester replied.
“Isn’t this sooo exciting! Nothing cool ever happens in this dump, and I, like, so adore this spy stuff. Guns and top-secret journeys in the night. It’s like being in a movie!”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Elliott inquired.
Chester was halfway through some mumbled introductions when Stephanie noticed Colly and gave a small whoop. “You found your dog thing!”
“Keep it down back there,” Parry growled.
“Ooooh, sorry,” Stephanie replied, just as piercingly, clapping her hand over her mouth as she made a silly face. “I’m always getting myself into trouble with my loud voice.”
“It’s not the dog thing,” Chester told her. “It’s the . . . er . . . the other dog thing. There are two of them.”
Stephanie nodded, aware that Elliott was staring up at her.
“Anyway, I want you to come and sit next to me. I want my skier next to me,” Stephanie said. “Whoosh, whoosh!” she added, moving her hips and laughing brightly.
“Whoosh?” Elliott repeated, frowning.
“Skier?” Mr. Rawls asked.
Chester gave them a helpless look, then swung his Bergen into the Bedford, and clambered up after it.
“And I’m not, like, sitting anywhere near those dead pigs and cows,” Stephanie said adamantly. Now that he was under the awning, Chester saw that against the rear of the truck cab a dozen or so crates and blue plastic drums had been stacked. And above them, animal carcasses wound in some kind of cloth had been suspended. “Ewwww! See what I mean,” Stephanie burst out as she pointed at the gently swaying carcasses. “They might drip something totally yuck on my coat.”
“No . . . yes, they might,” Chester agreed, wondering exactly how much she’d been told about their current situation.
“Are we leaving now?” Colonel Bismarck asked Parry as he came over.
“Yes, everyone needs to get in the Bedford. After a couple of hundred yards, the culvert drains into the river, which is running high for this time of year. So we’re all going to get wet,” Parry told them. He addressed the Colonel. “And I’d like you to ride shotgun.”
“Ja. Of course,” the Colonel replied, patting his assault rifle.
Once they’d all loaded their kit on the truck, and the tailgate had been secured, they arranged themselves along the benches on either side. Joining Old Wilkie in the cab, Parry fired up the engine, and they rolled down the slope until they’d fully emerged from the culvert. Then Parry dropped a gear and everyone was thrown around as the truck climbed over a gravel bank and into the river. Although it was difficult to see anything much in the darkness under the canvas awning, they could hear the water washing over the bed of the truck and slopping around their feet.
“Ohhh!” Stephanie gasped dramatically, lifting her boots up as she gripped Chester’s arm.
Drake drove the jeep off the track and a short distance into the trees. Then he used a machete to lop off some branches, which Will helped him to lay over the vehicle to conceal it.
They both returned to the track, where Sweeney had been waiting. The earflaps of his army hat were tied up, and his head was angled to one side as he faced the direction they’d just come from. “Nothing yet,” he told Drake, opening his shoulder bag. “Brought some welcoming gifts for your Stickies.” He took out a massive foot-long combat knife, gripping it between his teeth like a pirate as he continued to rummage in the bottom of the bag.
“You don’t carry a gun,” Will observed.
“Never been big on them,” Sweeney said, a grin just visible behind the knife in his mouth. He held out one of his huge hands and closed it as if gripping a throat, his knuckles popping like champagne corks. “Prefer to work with these. I can be more creative with them.” Then he found what he’d been looking for in his bag. “Ah, here we are.” He held up a pair of grenades. “Fresh pineapples.”
“Thanks,” Drake said, taking one as casually as if he was accepting a bar of chocolate. Then he and Will positioned themselves on one side of the track, Sweeney on the other, and they lay in wait. Drake had told Will he should concentrate on the area beside the track because any Limiter worth his salt would never approach straight down it. So, with his Sten gripped in his hands, Will kept careful watch. The tree trunks and shrubs were orange hued through the lens over his right eye, which allowed him to see the surroundings as clearly as if they were in daylight. He wondered how it looked to Sweeney with his enhanced vision.
After an hour of listening to the patter of rain, Will’s excitement had dulled. At the beginning, his heart had been thumping with anticipation at the prospect of catching the Limiters on the hop, but the damp was penetrating his clothes and making him very uncomfortable. Will suffered another two hours of this misery until Drake finally led him back to the path.
“Still nothing?” Drake asked as Sweeney appeared.
The huge man shook his head. “Not a flippin’ sausage.” He gave Will a passing glance. “Except for young laddie here yawning and shifting about on his rump like he’d sat on an anthill.”
“Sorry,” Will mumbled.
“They’ve had plenty of time to catch up,” Drake thought aloud, looking down the track. “There’s no way they could have missed us as we left, so they certainly knew which direction we’d taken.”
“Perhaps they’ve dug in around the house, hoping we’d be stupid enough to go back,” Sweeney suggested.
Drake examined the grenade Sweeney had given him. “Maybe,” he said.
He backed the jeep out, then waited while Will and Sweeney climbed into it, and sped off again, still heading away from Parry’s estate.
“Trees . . . ,” Will mumbled to himself as mile after mile of the forest sped by. There wasn’t much to look at, and all the time, Sweeney was in the back, with his strange circled eyes tightly shut and his shoulder bag on his knees.
Will suddenly realized how cold he was and wound his scarf up around his face, but it didn’t do much to help. Telling himself he should relax because the Limiters couldn’t possibly know the lie of the land as well as Drake, Will gave into his fatigue and fell asleep.
As Drake took the jeep around a bend so fast that it tipped on two wheels, Will woke with a start, hanging on for dear life. The first signs of dawn were approaching, a cobalt blue seeping into the sky. They careered around another bend and hurtled down an incline. At the bottom of the slope, Will spotted a ford running across the track, but he was distracted by a shout from Sweeney. He turned, but the man and his shoulder bag were nowhere to be seen.
The vehicle slewed to a halt as Drake slammed on the brakes.
“Who is that?” Will whispered.
Some thirty feet in front of them a woman was standing in the middle of the ford. She was signaling with a flashlight.
Will heard Drake say, “Mrs. Rawls,” as he crunched the gears into reverse and gunned the engine.
Will couldn’t work out why Drake wasn’t backing the jeep up the track as fast as it would go. “What are you waiting for?” he asked urgently. “This has to be a trap.”
“Too late. We’re already in it,” Drake replied in a low voice. He left the engine running but slid from his seat, keeping low. Will did the same, his Sten at the ready.
Mrs. Rawls called out to Drake several times, but he didn’t acknowledge her, panning around the trees with his Beretta as he edged cautiously toward the ford.
“What now?” Will asked.
“We imp
rovise,” Drake whispered. Using his teeth, he pulled the pin from the grenade to arm it. But he kept the grenade firmly in his hand as he spat the pin out, then met eyes with Will. “Just watch my back,” he said.
Will hadn’t needed to be told as he pointed his weapon at the track behind them.
“Drake, it’s OK!” Mrs. Rawls shouted, still waving the flashlight.
Other than Chester’s mother, there was no sign of life anywhere. And there was no sign of Sweeney, either, but then Will hadn’t expected there to be. The old soldier was doing what he’d been trained to do.
“It’s all right!” Mrs. Rawls shouted as she lowered the flashlight. “Really, Drake — it’s all right!”
“Emily,” Drake replied, still scouring the trees, “who’s with you?”
“Hello, Drake,” Eddie said as he stepped from behind a tree on the other side of the ford. He started toward Mrs. Rawls.
“Stop right there!” Drake ordered, aiming his handgun at the Styx’s head. “I thought it had to be you.”
Eddie slowly raised both hands, opening them to show they were empty. “I’m unarmed. I just want to speak to you.”
Although he was meant to be watching the rear, Will had never seen the former Limiter before and couldn’t resist a peek at him. The man was rake thin like all Styx. He was wearing a dark brown three-quarter-length coat and Wellington boots, and on his head was a flat cap. If it hadn’t been for his sunken cheeks and jet-black eyes, he might have passed as a country squire out for a walk.
“This isn’t an ambush — if it was, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you right now,” Eddie said, dropping his arms. “It’s crucial I speak to you. It’s more important than any grudges you and I might still bear each other.”
Drake stood poised on one side of the ford with Eddie on the other, Mrs. Rawls halfway between them, the water rushing around her ankles.
“How did you know I’d be coming this way?” Drake demanded.
“A tactical guess,” Eddie answered. “I’ve had the house under observation, and naturally I recce’d the outlying areas.”
“Naturally,” Drake put in sarcastically.
“This wasn’t an obvious escape route, so I calculated it would be the one you’d take.” Eddie glanced at Mrs. Rawls. “You know, they tried to activate Emily for the city offensive, but I intervened. She’s been well looked after.”
“Is that true?” Drake asked. “He saved your life?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Rawls confirmed, with a smile and a nod. She certainly didn’t look the worse for wear or under any form of duress.
“And I’ve brought her back for you,” Eddie said. “A peace offering.”
Mrs. Rawls began to step toward Drake. “Sorry, Emily, that’s quite close enough. You may have been Darklit,” he said. “Will, keep your weapon on her.”
“Hello, Mrs. Rawls,” Will mumbled awkwardly as he swiveled his Sten toward her. “How are you?”
“Very well, thank you, Will,” she replied.
“She hasn’t been Darklit. At least not by me,” Eddie spoke up.
They stood there, the only sounds the gurgle of the stream and the odd bird call in the distance.
“OK, where are the others?” Drake asked. “You didn’t run the surveillance on the house or a full recon on the surrounding area without more manpower.”
“Absolutely correct,” Eddie answered, beginning to raise his hand. “If you’d permit me?”
“Be my guest,” Drake said.
Eddie clicked his fingers.
There was a rumble as engines roared into life from both up ahead and behind on the track.
With the cracking of crushed undergrowth, two large American military vehicles trundled into view.
“Humvees?” Drake said, looking alarmed.
They ground to a halt, blocking both ends of the track. They were painted a matte green and the windows were tinted. As their engines fell silent, their doors swung open.
Styx dismounted from the vehicles. Others emerged from among the trees. Will could count eight in total.
“Limiters?” Drake asked, even more alarmed.
“They are,” Eddie replied.
None of the Styx soldiers were in their dun-colored combat uniforms, but instead wore an assortment of Topsoiler clothes: Barbour jackets, parkas, and walking boots. One was even in jeans. But with their craggy faces and hollow eyes, the soldier elite were unmistakable as they came nearer. None of them were carrying weapons, but that didn’t make them any less threatening to Will. His stomach churned with fear. The last time he’d encountered them in such numbers, his father had been brutally gunned down by one of the Rebecca twins.
“Where do you want us?” Eddie asked.
Drake inclined his head in Eddie’s direction. “By you, where I can keep an eye on everybody.”
The Limiters dutifully marched to the bank and formed up in a line behind Eddie. Will noticed that one of the Limiters had bandages across much of his face, and his left eye seemed to be stitched shut. It made him look all the more gruesome.
“Is that the lot?” Drake said, his handgun pointed at the group.
Eddie seemed hesitant as he inspected his men behind him. He was about to speak when Drake interrupted him.
“Sparks — you can come out now,” he said, barely raising his voice.
“Aw, and I was just getting into my stride” came the response, and a low chuckle echoed around the trees. Sweeney swaggered onto the track. He had two Limiters with him, one on each shoulder. “Bagged myself a pair of Stickies. Bit slow off the mark, aren’t they?” He was carrying them as if they weighed nothing.
Eddie jerked his head in the stocky man’s direction.
“You didn’t hurt them?” Drake asked.
Sweeney grinned. “Nah, they weren’t armed, so I didn’t think I ought to. They’re sleeping the sleep of the fairies.” He considered each of the insensible Limiters on his shoulders in turn. “Pig-ugly fairies.” Then he looked across at Drake. “So where should I put them? Next to Big Chief Sticky?”
“No, just drop them there,” Drake said, smiling at Eddie, who was peering at Sweeney with interest. “Say hello to Sparks, an old friend of mine. I’ve got more friends like him.”
Eddie raised his eyebrows, clearly astonished that the Styx soldiers had been taken unawares. “One is still unaccounted for,” he said.
“Jiggs,” Sweeney put in.
“Jiggs is here?” Drake asked, amazed.
“Sure. He knocked another of these bozos out for the count.”
“Good man,” Drake said. He gave a dry laugh as he surveyed all the Limiters standing patiently in line. “What’s with the big turnout, Eddie? Nature ramble?” he asked coldly. “I can only assume all these Limiters have come over to you now? But how do you know you can trust them?”
“They are loyal to me,” Eddie confirmed, no trace of doubt in his voice. “Remember I told you that there were others who feel the same way I do. These men have all defected to me because of their convictions. They believe that the current escalation isn’t right, and must be stopped.”
As Drake’s gaze passed over Will, he noticed that the boy’s face was strained. “Are you OK, Will?” he asked.
Will wasn’t. He was wondering if any of these Limiters had been on top of the pyramid, watching as Dr. Burrows was murdered. He’d been highly critical to Chester about Drake’s short alliance with Eddie when they’d mounted an operation together in the Eternal City, although he hadn’t said anything directly to Drake about it. He found it impossible to believe that there was such a thing as a good Styx.
“Will?” Drake repeated.
“Yes . . . fine,” Will lied through his clenched teeth.
“So you’re Will Burrows,” Eddie said gently
. “I’ve heard much about you.”
“Really,” Will grunted, unnerved by the attention from the Styx.
“And about your family: Tam, your mother, Sarah . . . and Cal, your brother. And it is in relation to him that we have an apology to make to you.”
“Cal?” was all Will could say.
“Yes, about his Hunter. I believe the animal’s name was Bartleby.”
“Was?” Drake burst out.
But Eddie continued. “There was a serious and inexcusable lapse in protocol at one of the observation posts that I established on the hills surrounding the estate, and your Hunter got the better of the team manning it,” Eddie said. “The Limiter on duty watch allowed the animal to steal up on him, and attack.”
“What are you talking about?” Will demanded.
“Unfortunately, Bartleby was killed.” Eddie pointed his clawlike finger at the Humvee parked farther down the track behind Will. Will turned and began to walk mechanically toward the vehicle. He didn’t want to see what was waiting for him but felt compelled to look.
There was a shape on the flat hood. Will hinged up the lens from over his eye — with the advent of dawn, it was becoming unnecessary.
As he came to the vehicle, he saw the shape was Bartleby. His fore- and hind legs were bound with rope, his carcass stretched across the front of the vehicle as if the big cat was a trophy kill from a hunting trip.
Similar to the color pervading the dawn sky, Will could clearly see the network of cobalt veins under Bartleby’s slate gray skin, which seemed to have lightened in death. And Bartleby’s amber eyes had also lost all their intensity and were now pale as sour milk, their lenses opalescent as they stared into space.
But above all else, Will found it impossible to accept that the cat was motionless. He’d always been so full of life, always prancing everywhere in his permanent quest for something to eat, always up to no good like some mischievous child.
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