The Faceless Stratagem (Tombs Book 2)

by Robert Scott-Norton

  The key was still in the ignition.

  A smart business jacket had been abandoned on the passenger seat. In the cup holder, a McDonald’s coffee was still piping hot and hadn’t been touched.

  The driver must have gone for help.

  But why? On a hunch, Jacob pulled himself into the driver’s seat and turned over the ignition. It fired the first time, the engine purred, sending comforting vibrations through the car.

  Perhaps the driver had a passenger with him that had needed help. Jacob glanced around the interior. The back seat had a laptop case on it. Strange to leave that there and the car unlocked.

  Jacob looked down the road to his own car, his mind whirling. The driver of this car had abandoned it for no reason he could fathom. And, he’d done so before Jacob had come round. Assuming the driver had stopped for the same reason as he, and at the same time, why hadn’t he come to check on the taxi that had stopped in the road ahead of him? Would that not have made sense?

  With a last furtive glance around the interior, Jacob pulled himself out of his car and shut the door. He thought about taking the keys for safe-keeping, but that seemed a little too much like stealing.

  Jacob began the walk back to his own vehicle, his chest tight with worry. “Hello,” he called out into the dark. To his left, a miniature sand dune only six foot tall indicated the border between the road and the car park beyond. You had to walk through chest-high marram grass to get up there, but it might have made sense for the driver to head that way, especially if he was going for help and knew the area.

  There he was. A dark silhouette on the crest of a dune half way between him and his taxi.

  Relief should have come over him, but it didn’t. His skin crawled. A deep primeval fear that burned at his core and told him to head in the opposite direction.

  But, he’d left Katie, his passenger, sleeping off her drinking session in the back of his taxi. He had a duty of care to her and wasn’t about to abandon her.

  The guy must have needed a piss. The absurdity of such a simple explanation hit him then. Of course—the late hour, the coffee. He may well have been afflicted by whatever else had happened to himself and his passenger, but once he’d recovered, he’d realised he’d needed to drain the pipe and had nipped into the bushes.

  “Hey, are you OK?” Jacob called up to the man. In the moonlight, he could see that the figure was a man, wearing trousers, shirt and tie, without a jacket.

  The man turned in Jacob’s direction and new chills drove across his back. It was something in the way he moved, held himself, that had Jacob’s nerves on edge. The way he’d cocked his head as a zoo tiger might regard a visitor on the other side of the bars. But, there were no bars here.

  “Is that your car back there? You need to be careful. You left the keys in the ignition.” Jacob’s voice cut through the night air but only emphasised how remote from the rest of town he was, how vulnerable.

  Another figure appeared next to the first on the dune, looking in the same direction towards Jacob. So, the guy had a passenger after all. Suddenly, them being off together in the dunes made a different kind of sense.

  “OK, then. Looks like you don’t need any help. I’ll be off.” And Jacob picked up the pace, eager to get back to his own car and be on his way.

  A third figure climbed up the dune to stand beside the other two. Their silhouettes cut against the deep cobalt sky behind them. Why weren’t they saying anything? Jacob felt like he’d stumbled into a different realm, like that episode of The Twilight Zone, that traumatised him as a child. The fourth and fifth figures appeared simultaneously, quickly followed by another five to make a line of people standing along the crest of the dune, looking down at the road. And him.

  These weren’t anything to do with the BMW, at least, they couldn’t all be something to do with the BMW. And there was something else disturbing Jacob.

  The figures were watching him—no they were scrutinising him. He got the distinct impression they were considering how much of a threat Jacob was to them.

  He needed to leave. To get away from this place. Instinctively, he knew he was in terrible danger. He picked up the pace and was soon hurrying to the car with the anxious gait of a man hurrying for a train without looking like he was hurrying.

  At the taxi he found his passenger asleep on the back seat, oblivious to what was happening around her. Jacob glanced up, movement catching his eye and saw to his dread that the people were climbing down from the dune, and into the road. But, there was still something shadow-like about them, unreal. Then he realised what it was as a few of the lead figures stepped onto the tarmac.

  They had no faces.

  The man in the shirt and tie, the one he’d presumed had been the driver of the BMW was leading the pack, the moonlight catching his smooth face, bumps in the right places but no features at all. Skin but no mouth, or eyes. There was the shape of a nose but Jacob bet that if he’d been stupid enough to get closer to him, he’d discover that the man had no nostrils.

  “I don’t mean any harm,” Jacob said, but then he quickly got back inside his car, shut the door and reached for the key.

  Except the key wasn’t there. What had he done with it? He patted his pockets and dug them out. As soon as he’d put the keys in though, he looked up and realised that he was surrounded by these blank-faced creatures. This close, he could see the different clothes they were wearing. Some dressed in women’s clothes had long hair that looked unkempt like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in weeks.

  A blank face appeared at his window. A hand tried the handle of his car.

  He twisted the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Steam rose from the bonnet but the creatures weren’t concerned. There must have been at least ten in front of the car by now, another two on each side, by the side windows. Behind him, more were trying to open the back doors.

  A scream from the passenger seat and Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin. His drunken passenger had woken up with the car starting. She was staring bleary-eyed at the creatures by her window. Jacob put his arm out to her. “You’re OK. I’ve locked the doors. They can’t get in.”

  “What the hell?”

  “They came over the dunes.”

  Jacob looked straight ahead and wondered how many of these he was prepared to mow down in his escape.

  “Drive,” Katie shrieked. “Just drive!”

  Jacob nudged the car forward. The creatures moved along with him, those in front, edging back a few feet. He took the car out of gear and slammed his foot on the accelerator, hoping the noise would scare them into moving. Nothing. The noise, if anything, spurred their activities on.

  “Just drive,” she shrieked again.

  Jacob slipped the car back into first and left his foot hovering over the accelerator, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Whatever these things were, they were once human.

  A smash and one of the creature’s arms was in through the window reaching for him, grabbing at his neck. He wrestled with the grasping arm and suddenly his passenger was tearing at the thing’s arm. She yelled as it swung its fist in her direction.

  “Geroff,” she shouted.

  Then another smash and arms reached in through the back window, pulling at his passenger, and from that position, it found its prey much easier to handle.

  Jacob put the car in gear and floored it.

  The car smashed into the first creature in its path with a thud that sickened Jacob deep in the pit of his stomach. The hands that were holding him shifted and as the car picked up speed, Jacob was ripped hard to his right, supporting the weight of the creature. More bodies succumbed to the wheels and chassis of his car which had become a missile on wheels. Jacob couldn’t see what was happening.

  The hands shifted from his body and grasped the steering wheel, crunching the bones in his hand in one devastating effort. Jacob howled and let go of his grip, at the same time easing up on the accelerator. His passenger was still fighting the creature in the
back seat. It had somehow slipped its way inside.

  The car clunked over the kerb as it smashed onto the pavement and the concrete sea wall. Jacob’s head hit the steering wheel, and he leant back dazed in his chair, all the time aware of the creature leaning in through the window, arms gripping, that awful featureless face the last thing he saw.

  5

  6th May 2013

  Linwood had been separated from Payne and Max and made to wait in a comfortable, yet claustrophobic room. A leather sofa that sagged in the middle was centred along a wall opposite a small window with no way to open. Two armchairs with high-winged backs were sited on the opposite wall. A low table had been placed between these and she sat for a while picking up titles from the eclectic collection of magazines. The one time she’d visited the toilet, she'd been accompanied by a surly agent in a dark suit who smelt of cigarettes.

  This might not have been a police cell, but she was under no illusion that she was under an arrest of sorts.

  At a quarter past four, she was led along a series of corridors and arrived outside a door. Her stomach was rumbling, and she failed to remember the last time she’d had anything other than a quick sandwich to eat.

  The surly agent knocked twice on the door then stood back. The dull thrum of voices from the other side cut off. Moments later, the door opened and her direct superior, Director General Toby Kingston, stepped out into the corridor, partially pulling the door closed behind him. Kingston was not the type of man to be ruffled so to see his tightened frown unsettled her.

  “I'm sorry that I've not had the chance to talk until now. They've had me in there for over an hour,” Kingston said.

  “What's going on?”

  “It's a full sectional debrief. The intelligence services are pooling resources and painting a picture of events for the ministers.”

  “You make it sound like they're making stuff up.”

  “They're people in that room that weren't even aware we'd contacted an alien race. We're being as gentle as we can.”

  “And how are they taking it?” Linwood asked.

  “About as well as you'd expect. The last exposure some of these people have had to extra-terrestrials was watching Quatermass.”

  “Then I don't understand why they're in there.”

  “Because there's no one else. Because they're scared. Because they don't trust me. Take your pick.” He patted her shoulder. “Come on, let's get this over with.”

  Together, they walked into the room. A large u-shaped desk took the bulk of the space and seated around this desk were ten people Linwood had never met before. At the head of the table, a black man in a suit with a bright red tie. He nodded briefly at Linwood as she entered and gestured to a chair set at the front of the room, exposed.

  She sat and watched as Kingston retook his seat next to the only other woman in the room. They all looked tired and judging from the number of coffee cups around the table, were running on caffeine and panic.

  “Thank you for coming. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but as you can imagine, we've had a lot to discuss.” This from the man at the head of the table. “I'm Brian Burke, head of this assembly. We'd like you to explain what happened tonight.”

  Linwood frowned. She'd spent the journey to Westminster writing up her report whilst fighting sleep. “You’ve read my report?”

  Burke picked up a sheaf of papers and gently dropped them back onto the table. “We all have. But we'd like to hear from you.”

  Linwood looked around the room, committing to memory the faces of the people sat examining her, wondering where they were all from. Which departments were on top of this? Who was ultimately taking charge of the situation and whom would she have to be wary of?

  She cleared her throat and began. “OK, an alien life form was taken into custody by my MI18 team in 1983. She called herself Irulal. Over twenty years, she planned an escape and a means to bring her own people to this world. We stopped her before she could do that.”

  Linwood paused. The rest of the information was in the report and she was damned if she was going to read that out verbatim to these strangers. Instead, she waited to see who would break the silence.

  Kingston looked uncomfortable in his chair but didn't interfere.

  It was the woman on his left who asked the first question. “I'm new at this so forgive me.” She smiled and her eyes met Linwood’s briefly. “When you say alien, you mean—”

  “I mean alien. As in ‘not from this Earth’.”

  “Right. OK. So you had an alien prisoner?”

  “Yes.”

  “In Southport?”

  “That’s right,” Linwood replied.

  “Forgive me. I was only briefed as to the existence of these things three hours ago.” She had this slightly bemused expression on her face like she was considering whether this was all an elaborate hoax for her benefit. “Why was that? Why were you holding an alien in a facility at all?”

  “She was considered dangerous. When we found her, she'd already murdered two people. We decided to hold her.”

  “In your headquarters? The ‘Tombs’ base in Southport?”

  “This is all in my report.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “And I've read your report. Thank you. But what I'm more interested in are the things you may have omitted.”

  “Nothing's omitted. Everything I know is in there.”

  “Not why you were holding her in an untested containment system in a built-up residential area.”

  “There was nowhere else. The containment system was created specifically for her. It was tested with her. We didn't have a line of alien test subjects to try it out on. And if you don't mind, I've a question for you.”

  The woman stiffened.

  Linwood continued, “I'd like to know who the hell you are. I've been fighting threats from beyond this planet for twenty years. What exactly have you been doing?”

  The woman didn't answer but turned and raised an eyebrow at Burke.

  Kingston looked uncomfortable. He wiped his brow and grinned awkwardly at the head of the table.

  Burke wasn't amused. He leant forward in his seat and placed his arms on the surface. The room turned to look at him.

  “Alice, we're not the enemy and you're not on trial. We're only trying to understand the background to what has quickly become a volatile situation. Already we've got injunctions out on all the newspapers and media outlets but that has bought us hours at best. We cannot keep what happened at Jodrell Bank tonight out of the spotlight. And when the public start asking what the hell happened, we will be ready with a considered response. You... are vital to that response, but don't for one moment believe that makes you invulnerable. If you don't cooperate fully, I'll ensure you're sent away where you'll have plenty of time to consider your position. Do we understand each other?”

  Linwood didn't think it was a bluff. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. “We do,” she replied, then turning to address the woman again she finished, “the containment system failed, or Irulal grew stronger over time. Either way, eventually, she escaped and it took the entire team to stop her.”

  “But you did stop her. Your report says you used an experimental weapon on her.”

  “Irulal was a Shun. An alien race that relies on nanotechnology. In Irulal’s case, she was using the body of the original girl she'd taken over. Irulal as a physical being barely existed. The consciousness that we knew as Irulal was the sum effect of the nanites infecting Laura Brody.”

  “Excuse me,” a voice from the opposite side of the table asked. It came from a thin balding man in a shirt and tie, loose at his neck, jacket hooked on the chair behind him. “Laura Brody?”

  “The girl originally infected by the alien we’re calling Irulal.”

  “And you killed her with this weapon?”

  Kingston interrupted, not giving Linwood a chance to reply. “We’re all on the same side here, Phillip.”

  Phillip shook his head and a thin smile appeared.
“I'm just trying to keep up with this.”

  “Laura Brody died when she was infected with the Shun nanites and the consciousness of Irulal took over,” Linwood said, calmly. She’d settled into the rhythm of this meeting and was prepared for any line of question they might have. Nothing that had taken place at Jodrell Bank could be considered her fault. And as for when she was in charge of the Tombs facility, she had the authority to decide, seeking no ministerial approval. That was one of the underlying factors for MI18’s success—its immunity from government.

  The woman by Kingston resumed her questions. “You killed Irulal in 1984.”

  “Dominic Thadeus, a member of my team pulled the trigger, but yes, Irulal was killed in 1984, or at least, we thought she was dead.”

  “She wasn't though?”

  “Her body was destroyed, but the weapon didn't do enough damage to the nanites within the body. Over time, the nanites multiplied and created a new body for Irulal. Her consciousness survived.”

  “And this is the version of Irulal that you claim not to have known anything about until a few days ago.”

  “It's not a claim, it's the truth,” Linwood replied sharply. “I suspected something was happening at the Tombs so I went back to Southport to see. I had no idea that Irulal was still alive. Thadeus was hiding her.”

  “Yes, I see that's in your report.” The woman picked up a pen and made a note on her papers. “And it was this new incarnation of Irulal that resulted in the incident we saw this morning at Jodrell Bank?”

  “Yes.”

  Linwood rubbed the back of her neck. This room was getting warm. She wondered whether they'd appreciate her asking for a break so soon after the meeting had started.

  “Care to elaborate?” Burke asked.

  “I don't know all the details, and I suspect that the only person who really understood what was going on was Irulal. From what I can tell, she was commandeering the telephone network to send a carrier signal to the population. That signal interacted with the nanites in our bodies—”