Fear Mercy

by Fergal F. Nally

  Mercy locked eyes with Deadstick, “No wait. I want you to release our friends tonight, all of them and return their weapons.”

  Deadstick flashed a smile at Mercy, “Of course, of course. Magenta see that it’s done—”

  Mercy watched him stride off, surrounded by his men.

  Magenta stepped forwards, “It’s good you made it, I watched you go in. Saw the gates open, then the watchtower fell. I lost you in the trope crowd. Couldn’t have been much fun—”

  Rose ignored Magenta’s comment and turned to Mercy, “I get to shower first. I reckon I stink even more than you, if that’s possible—”

  Mercy wrinkled her nose, “That’s very possible—”

  Magenta led them into the hotel and up the internal staircase to the tenth floor. She brought them to a suite of interconnected rooms.

  “Shower’s in there, food’s on the table, drinks over there. Fresh sheets on the beds. No expense spared, believe me you’re a big hit with the boss. Enjoy it while it lasts—”

  Mercy looked around, “Thanks. And, you won’t forget our friends, I want them free tonight.”

  Magenta nodded, “I’m off to get them now, they’ll be here in half an hour—”

  “We’ll hold you to that,” Rose said, as she headed to the bathroom.

  Magenta left the room and closed the door. Mercy slumped onto the large sofa and stared, unseeing, at the artwork over the faux fireplace.

  I’m alive, we’re alive, from that… chaos to… this—

  She lay back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

  Voices. Mercy opened her eyes. Familiar faces. Smiles.

  Flynn appeared by her side, he touched her arm, “You made it babe. Rose told us what you did. You’ve been out cold for a couple of hours, we didn’t want to wake you—”

  Mercy stared into Flynn’s eyes, her thoughts addled by sleep.

  I’m dreaming, this isn’t real—

  She reached up and pulled Flynn’s face close to hers, “You’re here aren’t you, I’m not dreaming, am I?”

  Flynn kissed her on the lips, “No babe, you’re not dreaming. We’re here, thanks to you—”

  Mercy sat up, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and recoiled in horror. A dishevelled, blood-stained figure stared back at her. She brought a hand up to her face and touched her matted hair.

  Rose appeared and took Mercy’s hand, “Sorry Flynn, this girl needs some emergency care.” Rose led Mercy off to the bathroom, she thrust fresh towels into Mercy’s arms. “Hot water, baby. Hot. Fucking. Water. I was in there for an hour, don’t come out until you feel human. There’s a side room off there with fresh clothes for you. That Magenta bitch came up with the goods. Enjoy.” Rose pushed Mercy into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Mercy emerged transformed an hour later but fatigue lined her face. Every bone and muscle ached with deep unforgiving pain. Mercy stared at her friends in the room.

  At least I’m clean—

  Flynn stood up but Cronin beat him to it. He pressed a cup into Mercy’s hand, “Hot coffee, can you believe it? This guy’s got one serious operation here.”

  Mercy took the cup and brought it to her nose, inhaling. “Real coffee,” she said, her voice full of wonder.

  Cronin brought her over to a table beside the full length window. They sat down, the others in the room were lost in conversation. Flynn caught Mercy’s eye, she flashed him a smile.

  Cronin leant forwards, “Rose brought us up to speed. That was some operation you pulled off. Even a SEAL team would’ve thought twice before going into that shit storm. Good job.” He paused then pulled a face, “This guy, Deadstick, do you think we can trust him?”

  Mercy took a sip of coffee, she closed her eyes in appreciation. “I don’t know anything anymore. We’ve not got much choice, have we? He holds all the cards,” she hesitated, looking at Cronin’s sidearm. “But it’s a good sign he’s allowed us to have our weapons back—”

  Cronin nodded, “Yeah, and he treated us OK when you were away. We’ll just have to go along with things for the moment. I hear he may be able to get us across the James River.”

  Mercy nodded, “Yeah, we need to talk to him about that. He’s holding a vigil for his meth chemist at the moment. I hope she pulls through.”

  Cronin nodded, “Yeah, Rose mentioned it. Listen, one crucial thing—”

  Mercy looked up.

  “We need a satellite phone. Mine is gone, yours too. It’s our only way of contacting Constantine and the fleet.”

  “And Barnes, in Annapolis,” Mercy added.

  “And Barnes,” Cronin acknowledged.

  Mercy drained her coffee, “I’ll give it a try. If anyone’s got a sat phone it’ll be this guy.”

  A few hours later morning sun sparkled on the horizon. Mercy rubbed her eyes and watched her friends dozing around the room. Most had slept on the floor, not used to the luxury of a soft bed. She sat up from the sofa, Flynn asleep beside her. Mercy smiled as she spotted Rose spread out, fully clothed, on a super king size bed in one of the side rooms.

  Nice one Rose, suited and booted as ever, sleeping with your shotgun—

  Mercy extricated herself from Flynn and went to the full length window overlooking the city. The sun rose, bathing the city’s broken bones in its golden light.

  What will the new day bring? Violence, betrayal, treachery, life, love or hope?

  Mercy chewed her lip and went in search of coffee. Others were stirring with the light streaming through the windows. Cronin and Tawny were at the table, steaming mugs in their hands, deep in conversation. Mercy poured herself a coffee and joined them at the table.

  “Electricity’s back on, things were shut down overnight. I can’t get over how big this group is, how many people do you think he has here?” Tawny asked.

  Cronin shrugged, “Well, from what I’ve seen, I reckon about a hundred and fifty or thereabouts—”

  Mercy nodded, “Yeah, with that naval base there’ll be lots of supplies in this city—”

  Cronin grunted, “You’re damn right. It is, or was, the world’s largest naval base, it supported the U.S. fleet in the Atlantic, Mediterranean and Indian Oceans. The base occupies a huge amount of real estate, it had everything; subs, aircraft carriers, planes—”

  “No wonder the NSA have maintained a presence here,” Mercy said. “Even if they have ten percent of the assets you mentioned they’ll be able to give Constantine a hard time—”

  Tawny pulled a glum face, “Yeah, well, let’s not dwell on that. There’s nothing we can do to influence that particular showdown, we’re more like the longshot, a sideshow—”

  Rose approached the table yawning. “Freak show, more like—”

  A knock interrupted the conversation. The suite door opened, Deadstick stepped into the reception room, deep shadows under his eyes. Magenta and two armed men hovered by his side. He approached the table and smiled.

  “I have good news. Helen… I mean the Professor, she’s going to make it. She may have a limp, she’ll need to use a cane for a while, but the doc managed to save her leg. It’s all good… thanks to you—” Deadstick held his hand out to Mercy.

  Mercy glanced at the others then shook Deadstick’s hand.

  Deadstick stared at Mercy, “You know, I really could use you in my organisation. We’d be great together, come and work with me, we could take over this city, spread to Virginia Beach, maybe even across the river, Hampton, Newport News. It’ll be like old times, well almost—”

  It’s show time. Play him, get him onside, win him over—

  Mercy nodded, “You’ve got a good operation here and yes… I think maybe I’d like to come and work with you but we’ve got unfinished business up north first. Speaking of which, you were going to help us get across the James River—?”

  Deadstick’s smile faded, “Yeah, I was wasn’t I? I’m a man of my word, in business reputation, trust… and discipline are everything. Yes, of course I’ll help you,” he pa
used. “When you’ve finished your business up north you’ll be welcome here. I’ll always have a place for someone with your… talents.”

  Magenta gave Mercy a cold look, her body language hostile.

  Mercy registered Magenta’s displeasure and returned Deadstick’s look, “That’s… very kind of you. Now, about crossing the river. You said the NSA have gunships patrolling the water so—”

  Deadstick pulled a sheaf of maps from his back pocket and spread them on the table. “So, you take the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel. The other road bridges were blown up to stop the spread of the virus back in the Fall, but the Hampton Roads Tunnel was flooded instead. Long story short, the NSA have reopened the tunnel, they’ve pumped the water out and cleared Willoughby Spit peninsula of tropes—”

  Cronin leaned forwards, “Wait… what? The NSA have the naval base west of Willoughby Bay and they also control the peninsula?”

  Deadstick nodded pointing at the maps, “Yes, they’ve kept control of the northern part of the naval station; it’s a pocket, heavily fortified against the tropes just like the road bridge tunnel on the peninsula. The area in between is a no man’s land, they run armoured convoys between the two on a daily basis. They’re scavenging and stripping the area of supplies using their boats. They even have an armoured steam train which goes inland. They’re sending supplies via the tunnel north, to Washington—”

  Mercy caught Cronin’s eye. “So—”

  “So,” Deadstick continued, “I have a contact in the NSA at the tunnel terminal on the peninsula. Even the NSA needs a little crystal meth to keep the cogs turning on the front line. That’s where I come in… supply and demand. And you’ve just kept me in business. So, my contact can get you on one of the truck transports through the tunnel to the other side… it’s all good.”

  Mercy absorbed the information, her mind racing. “I want to meet him, your NSA man. I want to see him, face to face—”

  Deadstick frowned.

  Mercy raised a hand, “I have trust issues with those… bastards—”

  Deadstick raised his eyebrows, “I understand.” His eyes flicked around the table before returning to Mercy. “I don’t want to burn my contact, it took a long time to… cultivate him. I’ll see what I can do—”

  “Thank you,” Mercy said.

  Deadstick gathered up his maps. “I’ll get back to you on this, you’ll have an answer this evening. If you need anything just ask Magenta—” he turned on his heels and made for the door.

  Mercy went after him into the corridor. “Wait… have you got a minute?”

  Deadstick turned and nodded, “Sure.”

  Mercy ran her hands through her hair, “I need a satellite phone. Can you get me one?”

  Deadstick pulled a face, “A sat phone? Now why would you want a sat phone? The NSA owns all the satellites? You won’t get access to their network, it’s pointless, we tried and failed—”

  Mercy looked him in the eye. “Look, I like the offer you made in there. If I make it back after my trip I’d like to keep my options open. I’d like to come and work with you, if I have a sat phone I can try and contact you. Surely you have someone in your organisation who’s good with comms, a hacker—?”

  Come on, come on, take the bait—

  Deadstick shook his head, “No, we’ve got no one. The only guy I know that could do that shit went over to Riker a year ago—” Deadstick stopped and stared into the distance. “Wait a minute, a load of Riker’s people escaped the same way you did. This guy, as far as I know, is alive… maybe.” Deadstick stared at Mercy. “You know what? You’re full of good ideas. I want you to come back. Leave it with me, we’ll try and track this guy down. I’ve got a few ideas where he might have gone. I’ll get you a sat phone don’t worry—”

  Deadstick walked off, flanked by his men. Mercy breathed out.

  So far so good—

  Mercy turned and flinched. Magenta was leaning against the hotel room door.

  Magenta was bristling, “You trying to take my job, bitch? Sucking up to the boss—”

  Mercy backed away and held her arms out, “No, nothing like that, just keeping my options open, you’ve got a good thing going here and… maybe I could see myself fitting in, you know, contribute. I’m not your competition Magenta, believe me—”

  Magenta held Mercy’s gaze. “So you’re… passing through. Probably never see you again.” She lowered her voice, “Here, you’re only as good as your last job, so right now you’re flavour of the month, best to leave on a high. You’ve got the right idea on bugging out girl.” Magenta pushed herself away from the door, “You need anything, let me know—”

  Mercy frowned and watched as Magenta walked down the corridor.

  How did that go? I’m not sure. Oh what the hell, wherever there’s people there’s trouble, just ride it out—

  Mercy turned to open the door.

  “Hey, before you go in—” a voice made her swing around.

  Billy-Ray stepped out from a stairwell a few yards away.

  Christ. What next?

  Mercy nodded, “Billy-Ray… what can I do for you?”

  Billy-Ray approached her, his hands by his sides. He stopped and looked around then turned to face her, “Look, I know I owe you my life and I’m grateful, very grateful… but I hear you’re going to bust out of Norfolk, you’re heading north. I need to get out of here, Deadstick won’t let me go, I’m too useful to him. I need to get to Charlottesville, my daughter… she’s hiding out in Shenandoah, we’ve got a cabin there. I need to get to her, let me go with you. I’ll be able to help you north of the river. I know things, I used to run with a crew there, under the police radar—”

  Mercy shook her head, “Billy-Ray, you’re obviously doing this without Deadstick’s knowledge. If you clear it with him I’ll consider it but I’m not about to jeopardise my deal with your boss by going behind his back—”

  Billy-Ray held up a hand. “You’ve no idea, I can’t ask him, he’d never allow it.” Billy-Ray looked over his shoulder then back again, he lowered his voice, “My daughter, she’s like you. I saw how you walked through those tropes and they ignored you, she’s like you… and Rose. The NSA, they did something to her before I got her out of Richmond eighteen months ago. They were rounding up kids and young people, she’s fifteen, she can walk through tropes. She’s all alone up in the mountains, I need to get to her—”

  Mercy shook her head, “Like I said Billy-Ray, you get the green light from Deadstick and I’ll give it some serious thought, otherwise it’s a no. Anyway, put yourself in my position; Deadstick could’ve put you up to this to test my loyalty. Come on, you see how it looks? I wasn’t born yesterday—”

  Billy-Ray stared unblinking at Mercy for a few seconds then his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I guess so. It was worth a try, listen just… don’t say anything about this to him. Keep it… between us—”

  Mercy nodded, “Nothing’s happened, so I don’t need to say anything. Sorry I can’t help Billy-Ray, it’s just too risky for me. I’ve got my people to think about—”

  Billy-Ray nodded, his eyes sad, “Got it, loud and clear. I’ll see you around then—”

  He walked away and disappeared down the stairwell.

  Wheels within wheels—

  Chapter 32

  Quartermaster

  The next morning Deadstick appeared at breakfast and approached Mercy and Cronin.

  “It’s all set up,” he said, his face serious. “My NSA contact is a quartermaster at the Hampton Roads Tunnel complex. He’s agreed to meet you this morning on his way from the naval station to Willoughby Spit. I’ll take you to him, he’s keen to meet you, the stakes are high, we’ve never attempted… people trafficking before—”

  Mercy pulled a face, then shrugged, “I guess, it is people trafficking—”

  “I’ll come to vouch for you. You can hammer out the details… see the whites of his eyes—”

  “That’s what I want,” Mercy replied. “When d
o we go?”

  “Saddle up, we head out in twenty,” Deadstick turned to the door. “Oh, and it’s just you who’s coming, your friends stay here.”

  Cronin started to object but Deadstick shook his head and walked away.

  “Guess that’s that,” Mercy said.

  Cronin swore, “It’s his show, this whole thing’s out of our control. I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to like it lieutenant,” Mercy said. “Trust me, if I smell a rat, I’ll walk away. We’ll just have to come up with something else.”

  Cronin grunted, “Trust? I trust you Mercy… and my men. I trust no one else. Everyone out here lies, cheats and kills—”

  “It is a double pleasure to deceive the deceiver,” Mercy replied. “I read that somewhere—”

  “Machiavelli… nice,” Cronin said. “Trouble is, all these guys think they are Machiavelli, even if they’ve never heard of him.”

  “Yeah, well, they’ve never met the likes of me, have they?” Mercy grabbed her jacket and headed to the door.

  Cronin smiled. “I’m glad you’re on my side Dawes, real glad.”

  The truck swerved into a side street, then over a downed fence. Rusted railroad tracks were visible through the weeds.

  “Rail yard… my guy likes to meet here. It’s on his route from the naval base to Willoughby Spit,” Deadstick checked his watch. “Two minutes to go, it’s over there, in that warehouse, follow me—”

  Mercy stepped out of the truck and followed Deadstick. Magenta and five others fanned out, establishing a perimeter. The driver stayed behind and kept the engine running. Light drizzle moistened Mercy’s face.

  I feel alone, surrounded by these people. So, what’s new?

  Mercy blinked as they entered the warehouse, she looked for the exits and vantage points, places where treachery could lie.

  I can’t imagine what it’s like to really trust someone new. Too many years of doing this shit—