“What’s that?” the woman cried. “Is someone there? Did you hear that?” she called over to Ellie.
“Did it come from there?” Ellie pointed to the slabs of upright stones edging the path. Gravestones, she noticed now, reminding those using the park this had once been a burial ground. Oh. She hadn’t realised that, or that there was a space behind them, a tiny walkway between the path and the tall grey-stone building abutting the park. Only it couldn’t be called a space now, not with a body occupying it, lying face-down and groaning loudly.
“Justin!” Ellie sprang to him. “Oh, my God! What happened?” She helped him sit up. There was just enough room for him to rest against a slab and for her to scrabble through her bag for tissues. He moaned and flinched when she dabbed at his cut eye.
“I-I’m not sure,” he gasped. “Thanks.”
“It’s all right. I know him.” Ellie looked up at the good Samaritan, reassuring her she could leave, catch her train and get home.
“Where else are you hurt?” Justin was holding his stomach. “Who did this?”
“I didn’t really see.” He shook his bent head, then winced. The cut over his eye bled. “Someone pushed into me, just as I came in the Brandon Street gate there. When I turned to see what the hell it was, he punched me hard, got me here.” He took her tissue and held it over his eye. “I guess I staggered back, away, to here. Then I felt a hard punch or kick in the ribs from behind, and I fell.”
“Jesus!” Elie covered her mouth. “I’m calling an ambulance.” She took out her phone and made the call, giving the location. “They shouldn’t be long. Did you see anything?”
Justin hung his head. “It was over in a second, a coordinated attack. But one thing I do know—there were two of them, working together.”
Ellie stared hard at him. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
“I haven’t any proof, but, yes. It was them. The Calters.”
“No.” Ellie back out of the tiny, claustrophobic space, shaking her head. She bumped into a couple, out strolling, who exclaimed and knelt down to help Justin.
“Ellie, it was them.” Justin’s voice was thready.
“No. They wouldn’t…” Would they?
Ellie jumped at the ambulance siren outside the main gate. “The paramedics are here.” She hated leaving an injured man, but the uniformed medics were rushing into the park, and she signalled wildly. “I’m going to confront Ludo and Jago.”
She ignored Justin’s cries and set off, angry and confused. Where were they? She wouldn’t phone them, wouldn’t warn them, wouldn’t give them the chance to concoct excuse, a story. They’d said they were going to check on Chris and his Re-Fuel business, after the trouble at the other project.
Her piercing whistle got her a taxi, and she had to google for an address to give the driver. Re-Fuel was in Southwark, off Tower Bridge Road, and Ellie drummed her fingers as the cab inched through traffic. She glanced down at her phone. There were quite a few hits for Re-Fuel, and a good few for Chris, Dr Christopher Elton. Ellie scrolled through mentions of his undergraduate and graduate biochemistry projects at Imperial College London to his doctoral thesis. He’d presented and spoken at several conferences and meetings, all on the topics of bio-mass and bio-energy.
Ellie didn’t understand anything about the chemical process at the heart of the man’s research, but Chris’s doctoral thesis had been about making waste coffee grounds into logs or briquets, to burn in domestic fireplaces. She remembered having seen them for sale in DIY stores and garden centres. Since then, he’d been working on refining the process, figuring out how to use tea leaves as well, and finding quicker, simpler, and more environmentally friendly ways to turn all that waste into oil and diesel biofuel. She watched a video of him driving an old red double-decker bus that was powered entirely by the fuel he’d made. A profile piece on him for a glossier publication told Ellie that for a hobby, he was researching converting end-of-life plastic waste into bio-crude without producing carbon emissions in the process.
Wow. Ellie sat back, deep in thought. What had Chris said, something about combining extraction and conversion to cut the simplified process to ten minutes? The more she scanned through articles on Chris’s work and thought about the events of the last few days, the more her mental cogs turned. She felt sure now that Michael Langton had nothing to do with the situation. Even though he disagreed with the twins taking the family business in new directions, his love for the family had been plain to see. He would never have done anything to hurt or harm them. No, that avenue was closed.
Another assumption had been that all the incidents were directed at the Calters, high-profile shifters, by the anti-brigade. But the vandalism in the village—the village being part of the family estate—had been a drunken fight, unconnected. Yes, a suspicious package had been left at the serviced apartment building, but it had been nothing, a stupid inconvenience, nothing like the real threats delivered to Chris.
The longer Ellie thought about it, the more she became convinced the package at the building was a smokescreen, something designed to look like some sort of attack when it wasn’t. Or, rather, when that wasn’t the target—because the bio-crude lab was. Oh, God, and they’d ridiculed Chris when he’d been explaining the process, rattling off facts and figures at speed, saying he’d had enough coffee and should switch to decaf. They weren’t comparing like with like—the man had received a threat to his life, for God’s sake, and everything else that had gone on had meant they’d downplayed it.
“We’re here, miss.” The cab driver looked as though he didn’t think much of the poorly lit road full of long, low retail units, self-storage facilities and warehouses.
Ellie didn’t, either, but kept it to herself. The street number given for Re-Fuel was a huge lot, accessed by an open metal gateway, and it turned out to be an industrial estate, housing several old brown-brick buildings she guessed were former factories or workshops. It was getting dark, and the lengthening shadows made the space creepy. Ellie hurried from building to building, looking for the premises number and name she wanted. She caught sight of the Calters’ car and scurried over to it. That must be the laboratory! Lights were on, and she got the sense of movement from within.
Before she could even look for the doorbell, the noise of tyres squealing and an engine came from behind her. She whipped around to see a large Jeep speeding towards the building, its progress a lot more direct than hers had been—and a lot faster. Ellie got a very bad feeling. The tinted-windowed vehicle slowed a little as it approached and the passenger-side window must have opened, because someone stuck a hand out.
“No!” Ellie yelled—the hand held a glass bottle with a rag stuffed in the top. She didn’t know what the bottle contained but could take a guess, especially when the person used his other hand to work a lighter, setting fire to the strip of cloth.
“Jago! Ludo! Chris!” Ellie yelled, her voice shriller with each name. She screamed and shouted, waving her arms at the Jeep as if trying to scare off a bull in a country field. But it did no good. Oh, the door to the building opened, and a figure stood in the doorway, outlined by the light from within, but the Jeep accelerated, enough for the hand to throw the Molotov cocktail at the building’s window. The bottle smashed through and exploded on impact, and flames danced in an instant.
“You bastard!” Ellie flung herself at the Jeep. “Fire!” she yelled over her shoulder. She pounded on the vehicle, trying to do what, she didn’t know. It reversed, shooting backwards and away from her tenuous grasp, then screeched in a half circle and sped out of the gate.
“Ellie!” Ludo ran to her, seizing her by her upper arms. “What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”
“Not hurt—fire!” she pointed at the lab, attempting to pull away from Ludo, to storm the building and give what help she could. “Petrol bomb fire!”
“It’s okay!” Chris called from the doorway, where he was counting off the people hurrying out. He flicked foam from a cl
ipboard and squeezed water from his hair. “I’m used to them!”
“Not to bombs, though,” Ellie retorted, a little weakly. “Is everyone safe?”
“The lab’s at the back. This is mainly reception and cubicle space,” Chris said. “The sprinklers and foam activated at once.”
It did have a rather routine look to it, Ellie saw. The few employees who must still have been at work at this hour had filed out and were walking briskly in the direction of the gate.
Smith was suddenly there, at her side. “Keep Ellie safe,” Ludo instructed him. “Take her with the others to the assembly point down the road.”
“No.” She shook her head, making him stop in his sprint back to the lab. “I’m staying here and helping.”
“No, you—grrrr!”
Elie interpreted that noise as permission to enter, albeit behind the bulk of Smith, where Jago was putting out the last of the flames with a fire extinguisher. He directed its jet of foam from a table to a chair, taking care to douse all electrical equipment. Ludo re-entered the room, his arm around a pale young woman.
“She was listening to music with her headphones in and didn’t know what was happening,” he explained. “I think you’re the last. You know where the assembly point is?”
The woman nodded and ran out.
“I’ll check outside and the far rooms again.” Ludo pointed.
“I’m checking for hotspots.” Jago hefted another fire extinguisher. “Chris, you’re sure that’s everyone out? Double check electronic entries against the sheet.”
Ellie stood watching the twins work to make the building safe and check everyone was gone. She couldn’t belief they’d hurt anyone, had hurt Justin. Okay, so she didn’t understand what had happened or was happening, but she was sure of that.
“A petrol bomb, for God’s sake! There were humans in here, humans who could have been killed,” Jago fumed. He turned to her. “Are you going to say Michael did this?”
“Of course not.”
“Why are you here, Ellie? I thought you were meeting your ex.” Jago approached and stood close. She’d noticed the twins didn’t take obvious sniffs, like some shifter species did, but it was clear Jago was scenting. “You did meet him.”
“Yes, and…talking to him gave me a new perspective.” That he’s gone a bit crazy, perhaps over trying weirder and more desperate ways to get me back? She could easily imagine the clumsy man stumbling, falling, striking his forehead on the concrete ground, and a lightbulb going off over him when he realized his face was cut and bleeding. She hadn’t seen his alleged other injury, after all, the one that happened from behind, yet made him clutch his stomach.
“But I’ve been piecing things together.” She watched Smith boarding up the window while Chris swept up the glass. “I’m sorry for thinking Michael was involved. But you’re wrong if you think this is anti-shifter protests. We have to talk. All of us, Chris, too, I mean.”
Chris’s eyes widened, but he led the way to his office, which was free of water and foam.
“In here,” he called as Ludo passed the door.
Ludo entered, blotting water from himself with a towel. Ellie smiled. “Maybe one day we’ll get together in some way that doesn’t involve us getting wet,” she said.
“Hope not. Wouldn’t want to think I was losing my touch.” The up-and-down look Ludo gave her from under his thick black lashes, and the way his lips curled into a filthy grin made his meaning clear.
He crossed to stand on the other side of her to Jago. Even though they were angry with her, they flanked her. Did they even realise they did it? She’d…missed it, even just being away from them for a few hours. Missed them. And although that understanding should perhaps have alarmed her, it didn’t. Instead it warmed her through.
Chapter Ten
“Chris, the process, that you invented, developed, whatever. It works on a small scale, I know that. I saw the video of you driving the bus powered by the bio-fuel,” Ellie started. “But it works on a much bigger scale, right? Or if not yet, you can prove it does what you want it to? Sorry, I’m not a scientist.”
“I understand. And, yes, the formula works.” He nodded.
“Okay. Next question. So, who would want it not to work, to the extent of stopping you?” she queried.
“What? No one! Bio-crudes are of incredible benefit to society. We need alternative liquid fuels and spent coffee grounds and tea leaves are an amazing free feedstock that don’t demand additional resources to create.”
“Okay. Let me put it another way. Who—”
“Is your invention pissing off?” Jago asked Chris the question, but nodded at Ellie. He’d got it.
“Fossil fuel companies,” Ludo answered his brother. “And the biggest petrochemical giants are here in the UK.” He’d caught on, as well.
“But the North Sea oilfields have peaked. Production’s been in decline since the 1990s and climate change is creating worse and very difficult offshore conditions, which is already impacting on production,” argued Chris. “My grandfather was a pipeline engineer and my father an offshore instrument technician. I grew up hearing so much about resource limits, environmental concerns and unstable petroleum costs… That’s what led me into this field, finding alternatives to non-renewable fossil fuels.”
“North Sea oil…we don’t hear much about it these days,” Ellie mused. “But we do see a lot of protesting about fracking.”
“That’s because hydraulic fracturing, cracking rock with pressurized liquid, is so bad environmentally!” Chris was incensed. “I couldn’t believe the government issued a license to NuGas Energy to frack for shale gas in most of Yorkshire. They’re such a shady company, for one thing.”
“And have they ever been interested in, say, buying your company or your process?” Ellie tried to get Chris the scientist to connect the dots.
“Why would they?”
“To keep it off the market!” Ludo and Jago almost shouted together.
“Oh. No.” Chris paced a little. “But funnily enough, there was a company asking a few times to meet, saying they were interested in the conversion process. Not a petrochemical or oil and gas company, though. Hang on.” He brought his computer to life and scrolled down his emails. “Lytton Chemical Technologies Ltd. I would never sell my process, of course, but I looked them up, out of curiosity. They seem more of a broker, look.”
The three of them gathered around the screen to see Chris had clicked onto the company website. “They say they specialise in the acquisition of power projects…but I bet it’s more like making sure they never see the light of day,” Ellie surmised.
“Could be NuGas or another rival energy company or even a cartel paying them,” Jago said.
“It does explain why the petrol bomb wasn’t designed to kill or even destroy. More like act as a final straw,” Ludo added.
“Oh!” Chris jumped at the new email ding from his computer and clicked back to his email. “It’s them! Expressing continued interest…wonder if I see that it’s in my best interests to meet with them to discuss…”
“So, when you meet with these guys—”
“Meet? I would never dream of selling to them!” Chis exploded, cutting Ellie off.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Move over.” Ellie pulled Chris’s chair back and tipped it forwards, shooing him away to take his place and type. “Dear Mr…Roberts, recent events, which I initially did not take to be serious, have led me to a re-think. I find I’m no longer so invested in working to develop my bio-crude process as I once was and I’m open to meeting as soon as possible to learn what fair consideration you can offer me not only for my original invention, but as compensation for switching to another field of work entirely. Sincerely…”
She glanced up at the three of them. They gaped at her, and Ellie rolled her eyes and pressed Send. “What? It’s the fastest way to flush them out, hear what they have to say…get them to admit to what they did.”
“I assumed we’d be ca
lling the police,” Chris muttered. “Or tracking this Roberts guy via his email or phone number.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t considered that. “Well, it’s done now. So, next we me—”
“We, no. This is as far as you go.” Jago helped her to her feet. “We kept our word. We let you come along to a possibly unsafe situation at Haliford House, and you’re in much more dangerous circumstances here—a fire bomb was thrown, for God’s sake. And that’s the end of the line. The risk is too great now.”
“Ludo!” Ellie exclaimed, seeking his support.
He shook his head. “Jago’s right. We can’t risk anything happening to you. We have to keep you safe.”
“And so…” With a quick dip, Jago had her in his arms and over his shoulder. Ignoring her shouts of protest, then of abuse, and with Ludo holding on to her hands to stop her pounding her fists into Jago’s back, he carried her outside, to the car. Smith held the door open, and Jago deposited her in the back seat. Ludo leaned in to do up her seat belt.
“You’ll see this is for the best. We’ll have things resolved and we’ll be home soon,” he actually dared to say as he ducked out and closed the door. A second later, his rap on it told Smith to start the engine and drive, taking her away. Both of them turned their backs rather than see her furious face and even angrier gestures at the window.
“Ellie didn’t look happy.”
“She’ll get over,” Jago assured Chris. “Oh, and you’re not going, either. We work best alone. Always have and always will. It’s the only way.”
They ignored Chris’s spluttering as they read the email reply from Roberts about meeting later that same evening.
* * *
“Why the fuck here?” Ludo glanced back at the lift they’d just exited to ascend to the roof of the seven-story Kensington building.
“Afraid of heights all of a sudden?” Jago led the way through the first of the gardens laid on the one-and-a-half-acre rooftop plot.
Paranormal Dating Agency: Think of England (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Roar Britannia Book 1) Page 8
