The Face Stealer

by Robert Scott-Norton

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.” When she spoke, it was like a head teacher talking to a disobedient pupil, and then like it didn’t matter in the slightest, she placed the gun down on the table. Payne stared at it tempted but he was still reeling from the shock of someone breaking into his house to do anything rash, and besides he wanted to hear what she had to talk about.

  “How did you get in here?”

  “The back door.”

  Not feeling under any immediate threat, Payne went to the back door to check. Still locked and he couldn’t see any sign of forced entry. He could've sworn he'd locked up properly before going to bed.

  Payne crossed the room and picked up the phone. No dial tone.

  The woman looked up. “I wanted to talk.”

  “You know where I work,” Payne said as he went to the hallway and retrieved his mobile from his jacket pocket. No service.

  “I don't like to be interrupted,” she said calmly.

  Payne placed the phone on the counter-top. “You're saying you've done something to the phones?”

  She pulled her own phone from her jacket. “I've had mine upgraded. Can block telephones within a certain radius.” She looked at his expression and sighed. “I couldn’t talk to you at the police station.”

  “I don't keep any alcohol in the house. Would you sooner have a coffee?”

  “Tea is better.”

  Payne filled the kettle. “I didn’t catch your name the other day. I'm presuming you know mine.”

  “Yes. You don't come across many Spencers.”

  “You'd have to ask my dad about that.”

  “Alice Linwood.” She offered her hand but Payne ignored it.

  “Do you make a habit of breaking into people’s homes in the middle of the night?” he asked.

  “Not often.”

  “So why me?”

  The woman at the table didn't speak again until Payne placed a mug of tea in front of her.

  “It seems you’ve had an interesting night.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, but if you’ve got something to say, let’s hear it so I can go back to bed.”

  She smiled.

  “You watched a man shatter before your eyes.”

  Payne sighed and scratched an itch behind his ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What did you tell the custody sergeant about your missing suspect?”

  “Why would you think we have a missing suspect? I let him go; it was a case of mistaken identity.”

  “Is that what you told the sergeant?”

  “I think I’m going to arrest you for breaking into my house in a minute,” said Payne as he sipped his coffee. “So, Mrs Linwood, if you’ve got a good reason for being here, now would be a good time to tell me.”

  “I wanted to talk about the Max Harding case. I want to see what you make of it. I’ve read your reports to Taylor and want to see what else you’ve established—the stuff you’ve been keeping out of your reports. What do you think?”

  “I think I’m going to arrest you.”

  “Not a great idea.”

  “Yes. That’s what I’m going to do. Then I’m going to get some uniforms to come here and take you back to the station, and then I’m going back to my bed to get my much needed night’s sleep.”

  “You can’t arrest me.” She smiled.

  “Who are you? Police?”

  “No.”

  “Then who?” Payne put his cup down. “Government?”

  She tipped her head to the side. “Kind of.”

  “British?”

  “Most of the time,” she said laughing. “Have you got any sugar?” She asked, nodding at her tea.

  Payne gestured to the silver canisters beside the kettle. She got up to help herself.

  “Who do you work for?” he repeated.

  Payne saw a momentary look of doubt cross her face.

  “A small security agency.”

  “You're a spook.” Payne tried not to show he was impressed.

  “We've our own remit. We’re specialists.”

  “And part of this remit is to stick your nose into police investigations?”

  “Not usually, no.”

  “So why this one?”

  “The man in your cells was one of mine. He worked for me, on my team and I want to know how he ended up in your cells.”

  Payne tried to keep his anger in check, but he could feel it wanting to rip out and unleash fury on this woman. Eventually, after a few deep breaths, he was able to continue. “One of your team was responsible for the murder of my friend.”

  She didn’t even have the grace to look shamed. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  “You’re not denying it?”

  “What’s to deny?”

  Payne sighed. “There was a file,” said Payne, feeling that familiar tingling develop in his chest, “some stuff that Charlie brought with him. Carey told me that he was under orders to make sure it didn’t fall into my hands. What was in it? What were they after?”

  Linwood shook her head and looked Payne straight in the eye. “I don’t know. Honestly. Carey wasn’t reporting into me. He wasn’t doing any of this under my orders. He’d found himself another handler. I don’t know how long he’s been lying to me, but I guess it could be years.”

  Payne banged his fist on the table, and Linwood jumped up, startled.

  “Not good enough. I don’t believe you don’t know. I’ve seen some crazy shit these last couple of days, and whenever I turn around, there you are, right in the thick of it. You’re all so incredibly friendly with Taylor, you’ve got your own secret little team. Hell, tonight you seem to know what was going on in the custody suite. I don’t know who’s in your pocket, or what your agenda is, but you’ve given me no reason to trust you. All you’ve given me is reason to arrest you for obstructing a police investigation.”

  A moment’s silence passed between them as Payne paused, catching his thoughts, ideas racing through his mind at a hundred miles an hour.

  “There’s cameras in your station. They’re linked into our main security network. All the police stations are. It’s how we can do our job. That’s how I know what happened to Carey tonight; I watched it happen. I’m surprised Thadeus let him live that long, but if I’d have known that he was able to kill him like that, I would have got him out of there. Tell me, what did Taylor say?”

  “He wasn’t exactly pleased, but took it surprisingly in his stride.”

  She nodded.

  Payne continued, “I take it that’s something to do with your lot then.”

  “We’re helping out. As far as your systems know, he’s been transferred to a special holding facility in London. Being held under the counter terrorism act. No one will question it.”

  “And Taylor’s OK with you interfering like that?”

  “What choice does he have?” she almost spat the words at him.

  Payne didn’t like her arrogance, but nodded, conceding her point.

  “Carey told me he worked for Thadeus, but who is he?”

  “Another one of the team. We used to work well together. But he’s been lying to me for years. Charlie was a good man, he didn’t deserve to die.”

  “You sound like you knew Charlie.”

  “I did. Charlie Harris was part of my team as well.”

  22

  Payne finished his coffee. He noticed that Linwood had only had a few sips from her own. He took his cup and switched the kettle back on.

  “Charlie wasn’t part of any security agency. He was a pathologist. I’ve known him for thirty years.”

  “He wouldn’t have told you about it. When secrecy is part and parcel of what you do, you learn to keep your mouth shut. Charlie worked with us for five years. Nineteen eighty to eighty-five. He left—for reasons of his own.”

  Payne shook his head. “Why are you doing this? I’ve got enough to deal with without you blasting me with revelation
s about friends I’ve had most of my life.”

  “Yes, you’ve got the Max Harding investigation. How’s that going?”

  “You tell me. You seem to be well informed.”

  She grinned sheepishly. “Well, I doubt that Max Harding killed his girlfriend.”

  “And what makes you say that?”

  “The evidence. Max was seen by the pier dragging Heather Hudson’s body out of the back of his van, and then leaving her to be found by the police a few hours later.”

  “Wait, he didn’t leave her to be found.”

  “But what else would you call it? There are plenty of better places to dump a body. It was hardly more than twenty foot away from a main road; of course it was going to be found within hours.”

  Payne added milk to his coffee, then leant against the kitchen counter with his back to the window. “You’re implying that Max wanted us to find that body.”

  “Someone,” she stressed, “wanted you to find the body, or someone didn’t care whether you found the body or not. Hardly the crime of passion that you’re implying.” She fixed him with a steel look. “Max denies the murder doesn’t he?”

  “He says his wife tied him up and knocked him out.”

  “And you don’t believe him?”

  “There’s a history of violence in their relationship, but we’ve never seen anything that’s made us think that his wife did anything other than defend herself. Plus it handily gives him an alibi which he sorely needed.”

  Linwood changed tack. “The dead woman, Heather, she was missing her face.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the people who attacked the police station earlier, they were missing theirs too. They were blanks.”

  “You sound like Carey.”

  Linwood frowned. “In what way?”

  “Calling them blanks—the people with no faces. Like it was a term you’d previously agreed on.”

  “What would you prefer we call them?” She started turning her cup around in her hands.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Probably lots. But right now I’m trying to help you with your murder investigation.” She opened her mouth as if to say more, then stopped.

  Realising that she wasn’t going to reveal any more than she wanted, Payne let it drop—for now. “Yes,” he said, “the people who attacked the police station were missing their faces as well.”

  Smiling again, perhaps because the conversation had moved onto her agenda again, Linwood continued enthusiastically. “So, why were they after Max? You reported that it seemed like the blank was pursuing Max, hunting him. If he’d caused the first death, that would suggest he had some affinity with the blanks. Yet, he seemed to be a target. Seems unlikely they’d be hunting him.”

  Payne snorted. “This whole situation is unlikely. What you’re telling me is interesting, but it’s all supposition. There’s no evidence one way or the other.”

  “Maybe not. But I bet Charlie Harris was holding on to some.”

  Payne placed his cup down gently on the surface and tried to ignore the lightness in his chest. “Do you know what Charlie had in that file?” He pictured the red file in the restaurant and the second man who stole away with it.

  “No. I’ve no idea.”

  “But, he worked for your team for five years. Do you think it was to do with something during that period?”

  “That’s my guess.”

  “So, tell me. What did your team do during those five years?”

  The doorbell rang.

  Linwood instinctively reached for her gun. Payne came and picked up the metal bar he’d left on the table. He checked the clock. 12:45.

  “Is your phone still blocking phone calls?” he asked.

  “Wait,” she replied, before pulling her handset from her pocket. “Yes, still blocking.”

  “Could be someone’s tried to get hold of me about the case, and they haven’t been able to get through. Who else knows you’re here?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Could you have been followed?”

  “Not likely. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for a while now.”

  Payne walked to the front door, feeling the weight of the bar against the palm of his hand. His mouth felt dry despite the coffee and the fluttering of his heart felt like a million tiny flies knocking inside his chest. He sensed out the corner of his eye that Linwood had got out of her seat, and was shadowing Payne from a distance. The woman had gone from being impossible intruder to comrade within thirty minutes. Despite his reservations, it reassured Payne to have her in the house with him.

  The doorbell rang again.

  He reached for the latch, turned the key, and pulled open the door.

  A blank stood on the doorstep. It reached towards him with deadly intent.

  23

  Payne’s reflexes were fast despite his age and he almost succeeded in slamming the door shut, but the blank’s foot thudded at the base. Before Payne could respond, the door was smashed inwards, knocking Payne on to his backside. He scrambled to his feet.

  “It’s another one of those things!” he yelled to his side, where he knew Linwood was waiting with her gun. Adrenaline zipped through his system. His body wanted to run, ached to escape. But this thing in a stinking brown suit was in his house and he was damned if he was going to let it invade his sanctuary.

  He stepped back and swung his arm up, letting the weight of the bar create momentum, but it clanged against the wall and slowed, doing little damage.

  The blank powered forwards, its frame crashing into Payne’s body. They fell back against the under stairs cupboard. The breath exploded from Payne’s lungs with the impact. Payne raised his hands to grip his assailant’s arms, and dropped the metal bar in the struggle.

  As he grappled, he saw Linwood raise her gun.

  She’s crazy. She’s going to end up killing us both.

  The blank terrified him. This close, his face inches away from the blank’s smooth features, he got no sense of how it was seeing or breathing. It shouldn’t exist.

  He had to make it easier for Linwood, so with a concerted effort, he shoved the blank away hoping to create a better target for her. He looked for her again, filled with the hope that she knew exactly what had gone wrong with his world and could fix it.

  The back door crashed inwards. Wood and glass spat across the kitchen as a second blank forced its way into the house. Linwood swung around and fired at the new intruder. The blast stung Payne’s ears. A hole appeared in the blank’s shoulder and blood exploded from its blue t-shirt in a crimson flower.

  But, Payne was still fighting for his life. Filthy animal hands stretched for Payne’s neck. He grasped them, and pulled them away.

  The bullet hadn’t stopped Linwood’s attacker. It knocked her gun arm aside before she could fire again. Her gun flew across the room and she twisted and ran towards Payne, slamming the kitchen door behind her. The creature crashed into the wood, shaking the frame.

  Spurred on, Payne kicked his attacker’s groin, with no result. Linwood snatched the fallen bar and whacked it against the back of the creature’s head. It fell, dazed but still conscious. The second blank yanked open the kitchen door and dashed into the hallway. Linwood swung the bar again and it connected with the blank’s face with a sickening crunch.

  It crumpled to the floor whining like an injured dog.

  But these creatures didn’t stay down for long. The first to fall was already getting to its feet, blocking the exit to the front door. Instinctively, Payne pulled Linwood to the stairs. The second blank leapt to its feet, a deep gouge from the bar across its face. Linwood didn’t need persuading and pounded up the stairs behind Payne, ducking through the first doorway at the top of the stairs, the blanks only seconds behind them. Once in, Payne slammed the door and toppled a chest of drawers in front of it. The door jolted as one of the blanks collided with it.

  “Help me with this!” he said quickly, as he grabbed hold
of the edge of the wardrobe.

  “You do realise we’re trapped,” she said belligerently.

  “Sooner trapped than dead. Stop being arsey and help.”

  She acquiesced, and leant against the wardrobe. Together they managed to tip it over, on top of the chest of drawers, leaving their exit completely obscured by fallen furniture.

  The impacts stopped. Payne and Linwood looked at each other.

  “Call someone,” Payne started. “You’ve got to have some people that can help.”

  “Phone’s in the kitchen,” she replied.

  As was his, Payne realised. He ran to the bedroom window and yanked open the curtains. The bedroom was above the dining room, and that had been extended. “We can get out onto the flat roof.”

  Linwood noticed it first; wisps of smoke seeping through the gaps around the door and curling towards the ceiling.

  “You can smell that right? Like someone’s left the grill on.” Linwood pulled away from the door.

  Payne thought back to the initial attack on the police station. The devastation that had been caused from that terrible explosion.

  “Out the window, now!” He opened the window as far as the hinges allowed, then hoisted her by the waist, lifting her on to his shoulder. Her cheek brushed against his as he hauled her into position. “Don’t hang around,” she whispered, and then with a bit of awkward manhandling, Payne fed her legs through the opening, giving her a chance to grab hold of the window’s edge before he let go. She dropped onto the roof. “Quickly,” she shouted.

  The curls of smoke were thickening, the smell of burning intensifying. He grabbed onto the top of the window frame and heaved himself up, lifting his leg up and out through the open window. He looked down at the drop, ducked his head out through the window, then the room exploded behind him, tossing him out into the night.

  Payne fell as the windows blew out above him. Heavy shards of glass rained on his head. Hands dragged him to his feet. His hearing was muffled by the blast and it was a strain to make out anything Linwood said. They hurried along the roof together, to the far end of the extension, and only then did he take a look behind him and saw the devastation. The explosion had punched a massive hole out of the side of the house, letting him see the space where his stairs had once been. Payne felt cold.