Department 18 [02] Night Souls

by Maynard Sims

  “So you’ve no problem having him beside you on this?”

  “I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

  “Let’s hope, for your sake, you’re right,” Crozier said.

  Bailey smiled wryly. “So do I, Simon. So do I.”

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  Prayer is as natural an expression of faith as breathing is of life.

  —John Edwards

  The grounds of Faircroft Manor, Hertfordshire, England

  Fulbright ducked down behind an old oak tree stump and pulled out his radio. “We’ve come across a structure, sir. Looks like some kind of dwelling.”

  Frank Allen responded immediately. “Does it look occupied?”

  “It looks as if it’s about to fall down. It’s little more than a shack. Whether or not there’s anyone in there I can’t tell. All I know is it’s not on the map.”

  “Okay,” Allen said. “What are your coordinates?”

  Fulbright checked the map and relayed them.

  Allen looked at his own map. “Right, Ian, hold your position. We’re about five minutes away.”

  “Shall I move in and check it out?”

  “No. Not until we’ve ascertained what the place is.”

  Ian Fulbright retreated back to the tree cover, plucked a long stem of grass and set about systematically shredding it into one-millimeter strips with his thumbnail.

  “Something wrong?” Carter said to Allen.

  “I sent Fulbright on ahead to check on the security. Seems he’s found a building smack in the middle of the wood. Any ideas?”

  “There’s been nothing in our intelligence. Could be an old gamekeeper’s hut, something like that.”

  “Hmm. I was thinking much the same. Still, we’d better take precautions.” He went across to his Land Rover and opened the back door. He returned holding something that looked like a large video camera with a small screen mounted on the top of the sturdy rubber casing. “Thermal-imaging camera,” he said. “We’ll be able to see if anyone’s in the place without getting too close. We don’t need any unpleasant surprises this early in the game.”

  He checked his compass and turned to his men. “This way,” he said. There were eight in each of the six assault squads, as well as Allen and Fulbright, all of them carrying semiautomatic weapons and dressed in camouflage gear. To Carter’s eyes they looked a formidable force, but he was very aware that their safety was dependent on him, Harry Bailey, and John McKinley. If Holly got so much as a sniff of what they were intending, he could use his telekinetic powers to make the men turn their weapons on each other. The thought of the carnage that might ensue from such a scenario made him shudder.

  McKinley came up beside him. “Why is this starting to feel like a Boy Scout nature ramble?” he said.

  “I know what you mean, but try not to lose concentration. It’s up to us to block any stray thought probes Holly might send out.”

  “I thought Pike was going to be keeping him occupied.”

  “Both he and Rachel Grey, but I’m not too sure how they’re going to achieve that. So we have to be vigilant.”

  McKinley glanced back at Harry Bailey, who was bringing up the rear of the group. Bailey was perspiring freely, dabbing at his damaged face with a white cotton handkerchief. “I have my doubts about him. He doesn’t look fit enough for a mission like this.”

  “Harry’s one of the best,” Carter said. “He’s had his problems in the past, but he seems to have them in check.”

  “The booze you mean?”

  “Since he’s been in on this I haven’t seen him touch a drop. He seems to be on top of his game.”

  “Well, only time will tell.”

  “You’re a cynic.”

  “And you’re telling me you’re not?”

  “Don’t worry about Harry. I have my eye on him.”

  “Just don’t spread yourself too thin. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I won’t, but it’s important to remember that Harry’s been up against Holly before. That experience could be invaluable.”

  “Point taken,” McKinley said.

  Carter let him walk on, hanging back to hook up with Bailey.

  “If Simon told you to babysit me you can forget it. I can look after myself,” Bailey said.

  “I’m sure you can. But that’s not what I want to talk about. Is there anything you know about John Holly that might give us some kind of edge?”

  “An Achilles’ heel, you mean?” Bailey shook his head. “Apart from his arrogance, I’d say not. But then my contact with him was slight. All I know is that he’s the most evil individual I’ve ever come across. When he was describing the killing of those young women, there was a look in his eyes that chilled me to the core. I couldn’t wait to get out of his presence, and it wasn’t that I was scared for my own safety. It was more that I was convinced prolonged contact with him would be dangerous. He was just so damned charming.”

  Carter raised his eyebrows. “Charming?”

  “How do you think he got all those young women into bed with him? He’s got an innate animal magnetism. For someone, man or woman, coming to him without any knowledge of what he is, I should think he’d be irresistible.”

  “That doesn’t really help us,” Carter said.

  “Sorry. Just telling you what I know.”

  Ahead of them Frank Allen had stopped walking and raised his hand to stop the rest of them. Ian Fulbright ducked out from behind the bole of a large oak. “It’s just through here,” he said.

  “Okay,” Allen said. “Let’s check it out.”

  “Well,” Allen said. “Something’s alive in there. See.” He pointed to the camera’s screen. There was a small, colorful image in the center—blue, yellow, and red swirls forming the shape of a small animal.

  “What is it?” Carter said. “Fox?”

  “Too small. Probably a cat. Let’s check it out.”

  He led them through the trees to the clearing where Albert Wellington’s shack stood.

  “It’s derelict,” Fulbright said.

  “We still need to check it out, Lieutenant.”

  Fulbright saluted. “Very good, sir.” He turned to the others in the group, picking out two of the men. “Harris, Langton, you two with me,” he said. “The rest of you make sure you’re ready to give covering fire if necessary. It may be a trap.”

  A few minutes later Fulbright’s voice crackled over the radio. “All clear, but I think you should get in here and take a look at what we’ve found.”

  “Roger,” Allen said, then turned to Carter. “Well, let’s go and take a look then.”

  Carter felt a sick dread building in the pit of his stomach. Something in Fulbright’s voice told him that whatever was in the shack wouldn’t be very pleasant.

  The first thing they saw as they pushed through the door was Langton, one of the two men who had accompanied Fulbright, leaning against the wall, a pool of vomit at his feet.

  “In here,” Fulbright called.

  Fulbright was crouching down in the center of the floor.

  “Was there a cat?” Allen said.

  “Yeah. It ran for it when we arrived. It was eating…this.”

  He moved aside slightly so they could see. There was something pink and wet on the floor.

  Allen moved forward, peering down at the object on the floor. “What is it?” he said. Then, “Oh, good God! Is that…?”

  “Part of someone’s face. Yes, sir,” Fulbright said.

  Carter looked over the lieutenant’s shoulder. It was part of a cheek, bewhiskered, still with most of the nose attached. The edges were raw and bloody, and if you looked closely, you could see where it had been nibbled by the cat.

  “The rest of the body is over there,” Fulbright said, pointing across the room. “Behind the couch.”

  Harry Bailey walked across and looked over the back of the couch. He winced and turned his head away. “Well, I’ll tell you something—it wasn’t a bloody cat that did this.
A lion or tiger, maybe.”

  McKinley was at his side, staring down at the dismembered body, which lay like a heap of bloody rags on the floor. “He looks like he could have been a tramp. Look at the clothes,” McKinley said.

  “There’s an arm missing. What the hell could have done this?” Bailey said.

  “Holly did it.”

  At the sound of the voice they all turned to see Jason Pike’s large frame filling the doorway.

  “How the hell did you find us?” Carter said.

  “I’ve been tracking you for the last few miles,” Pike said, stepping into the room.

  “And Grey?”

  “No idea. We split up shortly after we left you. She’s been busy, though. From the reports that have been filtering through, I think we can safely say that she and Holly and their associated factions are now at war with each other.”

  “Then you must be a very happy man,” Carter said.

  Pike gave a tight smile. “Yes, I am.”

  “How do you know Holly’s responsible for this?” Bailey said.

  “I can smell him.” Pike sniffed the air. “I can taste his stench.”

  “But why kill him?” McKinley said. “I can’t see how an old vagrant like this would pose a threat to Holly’s empire.”

  “He did it for sport. I’ve seen him do much worse. The one thing you have to understand about Holly is that he has zero regard for human life. To him you are little more than vermin. He’ll snuff out a human life with as much thought as you’d give to swatting a fly.”

  “Time to move on to the house, I think,” Carter said. “Captain Allen?”

  Allen moved to the door. “Right, outside everyone.” He spotted one of his men standing in the corner, leafing through some kind of notebook. “Corporal Harris, what have you got there?”

  Harris snapped the notebook shut. “Found it, sir, under the couch. Looks like some kind of journal.”

  Allen went across and took it from him. He opened the battered cardboard cover and read the first page. “Albert Wellington,” he said. “Could be our victim.” He flicked through the pages, not really taking in the contents. He closed the book and tossed it onto the couch. “We haven’t got time for this. Outside. There’s nothing we can do in here.”

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  Faircroft Manor, Hertfordshire, England

  It was a fine, clear night.

  The kind of night, someone commented, that when it was all over was made for lovers walking hand in hand.

  Three men were standing by a small clump or trees, holding hands, but they weren’t lovers. Far from it. They were fighters. At that precise moment they were fighting with their minds. Fighting any attempts Holly might make to intercept the assault teams.

  Carter, Bailey, and McKinley stood, eyes closed, sending blocking waves of thought across an imaginary line in front of the manor. The house was not completely in darkness; in a few rooms lights could be seen. But the effect was more spooky than comforting; the lights diffused as if viewed through a fog.

  Pike stood a little way from the Department 18 group, watching their concentration, envying the closeness of the comrades. He could feel the residual essence of the forces they were conveying, but he stood in isolation, as he so often did these days.

  The assault teams had been split into three forces. One was approaching from the rear of the house. Using walls and vehicles as cover, they were going to go in through four separate downstairs windows. Another group was the surprise element that was working its way up to the top floor. They planned to rappel in, “just like the SAS in that Iranian Embassy siege,” one of the soldiers had said. The main team was simply a full frontal attack; hit the front door, stun grenades, machine rifles, maximum damage.

  Frank Allen checked with Fulbright and both men nodded. The teams were in position. Allen walked across to Carter, attracted his attention and waited while Carter disengaged from the other two.

  “We’re keeping up a kind of blocking wall, but to honest there isn’t a lot to block,” Carter said. He motioned for Pike to join them. “Whatever diversion you’ve created seems to have worked wonders. There’s little sign of activity from Holly.”

  Pike let a small ghost of a smile touch his lips. “It’s been a pleasure.” He didn’t offer that Rachel Grey was also involved. Not that he minded sharing any glory, just that so far she had not made contact and so he was ignorant of what she was actually doing. That made him very worried.

  Allen pulled his night-vision goggles down over his eyes. “Right,” he said. “We’re going in.”

  Carter didn’t see a signal but immediately the front of the house was lit by floodlights. Explosions were heard from the rear of the house. Dark shapes rushed the front door as the assault team moved quickly into attack mode. The front door was heavy and thick. Under the targeted explosion it crumbled like hope.

  Harry Bailey opened his eyes to see Carter frantically beckoning him. Bailey dropped McKinley’s hand. “No offense, but I don’t want to get used to that kind of thing.”

  “Holding hands? I was planning my wedding cake,” McKinley said.

  Both men moved across to Carter, and all of them ran as fast as they could behind the final team of soldiers. They heard muffled gunfire from the back of the house. Over the heads of the running men, bullet tracers were leveled almost continuously toward the front windows.

  Breaking glass echoed through the ruined front door as the upstairs floors were invaded by the team at the back.

  Standing in the doorway, Carter watched as Allen and Fulbright wordlessly directed the men in different directions, checking each door and alcove. Rooms were entered and a fierce battle soon developed as the security guards defended for all they were worth.

  “This is going to take a while,” Pike said.

  Carter nodded. “We need to find Julia, Payne, and Czerwinski while the army keeps security busy.”

  “Find Holly and we find them,” Pike said.

  “I’m not so sure.” McKinley was tuning out the noise of the battle. He was searching for Holly with his powers. “I can feel him, only him, through there.” He pointed to a wide oak door to the left.

  All four men instinctively dropped to the floor as stun grenades were thrown up the winding staircase to combat the machine-gun-carrying men rushing down. The soldiers took up firing positions and shredded the stairwell and walls with thousands of rounds.

  “Come on,” Carter said.

  In a crouched run, they reached the oak door and pushed it open.

  The room they entered was calm, almost serene. Music was playing from hidden speakers, “Fingal’s Cave” from Mendelssohn’s Scottish Symphony. Despite the warmth of the evening, a log fire burned brightly in the huge stone hearth; small cracking sounds as logs popped and glowed provided a gentle backdrop to the music.

  Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves held thousands of leather-bound volumes. By the fire a wing-backed chair in maroon leather was pulled close so that it had its back to the door. Wafts of cigar smoke indicated the chair was occupied.

  McKinley suddenly groaned in pain and sank to his knees.

  Carter and Bailey immediately constructed their mental barricades.

  “I trust Mr. McKinley won’t vomit on my newly laid oakpaneled flooring.”

  “Are you going to show your face, Holly?” Carter said.

  An elegant arm laid the cigar in the onyx ashtray on a small occasional table, and the chair was pushed round so that John Holly could be seen.

  Carter took his chance. While performing even small tasks like moving the chair or laying down the cigar, a tiny chink of concentration faded. Carter probed, opened his thoughts, and disconnected the hold Holly had over McKinley.

  McKinley rubbed the side of his left temple and slowly stood. “I’m okay.”

  Holly clapped his hands together silently. “Of course you are. Jason, I see you have joined the British government. They have a decent pension scheme I hear, not that you will live l
ong enough to be concerned about annuities or dividend yields.”

  “I’ve come to take back what you’ve stolen from me, John.”

  Holly put a look of mock uncertainty on his features. “Stolen? Yours? I can’t think what you have in mind.”

  “Not what, John, but who. I trust they are well, especially poor Julia.” Pike was keeping his voice polite and level. All the time his brain was protected as well as he could manage.

  “Oh,” Holly said, as if what he had been trying to remember had just come to mind. “The womb.”

  The barb worked. Pike was angry, and his anger weakened his resolve. He felt the razorlike cuts into his mind straightaway. Holly was in.

  Then, even before any damage could be done Carter was there, and Bailey. Like fumbling fingers being firmly lifted from an arm, Holly’s thoughts were removed.

  If he was annoyed or concerned, no one would have known it from his face. Holly continued with the confident, slightly arrogant smile he had worn from the beginning.

  McKinley had checked out the room’s perimeters. The library was clear. There was no one else there. They had all searched the corners of the room with their eyes as soon as they entered. They were looking for shadows that moved and dark patches where there shouldn’t be darkness. The room was empty of anything sinister.

  Anything apart from John Holly.

  Holly stood. He closed his eyes, held his arms out with palms up and immediately all four men felt pulsing in their heads. Holly was sending wave after wave of concentrated power at all of them at once. Carter had never felt such a force.

  He looked at Bailey, who was nearest to him. The look in Bailey’s eyes was not encouraging.

  Carter summoned the very peak of his powers and began to push back. It was as if he was pushing at soft rubber. The more he pushed, the more his mind was sucked in. It seemed as if the greater the force they applied to resist Holly the more Holly grew stronger.