by Sean Stone
“So the team’s gone now but the files are still here. Encrypted to fuck, though.”
“Is that a problem?”
He looked at me and smirked. “You insult me, Ed.” He tapped a few more times on his keyboard and then froze. His face was contorted into dumb horror. Usually I would have found it funny but this was important.
“What is it?” I asked.
“What is all this about?” he asked slowly. His face had gone horribly pale.
“The missing kids, I already told you that,” I said.
“So it has nothing to do with Winters Research?” Winters Research was the company he worked for. It was a big company; a nationwide pharmaceutical company and as far as I knew had nothing to do with this case.
“Of course not, why would it?”
“Because the deputy director of SIT was Clara Winters,” he said.
“I have no idea who that is but I’m sure it’s nothing. Not all Winters’ are related.” I shrugged his concerns off with a derisive smile. I had in fact met a chap called Arthur Winters in Cedarstone on the only occasion I’d ever been there. He’d hired me for a pretty unpleasant job.
“Clara Winters is the CEO of Winters Research, Eddie,” he said snarkily, turning to glare at me.
I stared dumbly at him. “Well, that’s interesting.” Clearly the entire unit had not been wiped out.
“Eddie, I am warning you if I get into any trouble for this…”
“You won’t. The case I’m working on does not involve Clara Winters.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I lied. I had no idea who the case involved, he hadn’t got me the files yet.
“It better bloody not. What files do you need?”
“Anything linked to Panomie.”
He found the files in silence and then printed them all off for me. There were quite a few. That was good, it would give me plenty to work with. And it would take long enough that I could wrack up a nice fee from Kent Police. Richards was going to be so pissed.
I was just on my way out when Matt stopped me.
“You forgetting something?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.” I checked the files tucked under my arm to be sure I had picked them all up. It certainly looked like it.
“The shed!” he practically shouted.
“Oh, yeah,” I said absently. I popped the files down on his coffee table and then went out to the garden. He had barely even started. His shed consisted of messy piles of wood all over his garden. The scorch marks from the last shed were still on the grass as were burnt pieces of wood.
“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” a voice said from over the fence. I looked over and saw Matt’s neighbour looking on with a smug expression on his face as if he was taking great pleasure at our situation.
“Nothing we can’t handle,” I said quietly. I’d taken an instant dislike to the man and I couldn’t quite say why.
“I’ve built a good many sheds in my time. Its a shame I’m too busy to help you,” he said with the air of a man who thinks far too much of himself. I wanted to hit him.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” I muttered. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a phial of dark purple fluid. It was the mind control formula I’d created a while ago. Rachel had then perfected it and used it against me. With her gone and me and all my friends now immune to its effects, I saw no harm in keeping it. I always carried some on me just in case. You never know when you might need some. I keep a few different potions on me, all tucked in my inside pocket like a Batman utility belt.
“Eddie, what are you—” Matt started but he was cut off when I waved my hand and smashed the fence apart that had been blocking my access to the neighbour’s garden. The neighbour’s face was a picture of delight. For me not him. He looked terrified. He was too scared to even move. All the same, I used a touch of magic to stop him from resisting and then I force fed him the formula. It was like feeding medicine to a baby. I don’t have any experience with that myself but I’ve seen people try. Those babies put a lot of effort into not drinking their medicine. Stupid babies.
“What… what did you do?” he gasped once he’d unwillingly swallowed it all.
“Just gave you a little motivation,” I said. “Now go and build that shed.” He stepped to it at once. No hesitation. Within seconds he was on his knees arranging the wood and tools. “And when you’re done mend the fence,” I added, gesturing at the hole I’d blown in it.
“Eddie you can’t do that,” Matt protested.
“Sure I can. What’s the point in having magic if I can’t use it?” I walked past him back into his house where I retrieved my files.
“You sound like someone familiar.”
“Oh yeah, who’s that?” I said with disinterest.
“Rachel.” A single word killed all conversation. I turned slowly to face him again and the look I gave him was anything but friendly. For that last comment I wanted to hurt him badly. How dare he compare me to the woman who murdered my parents. But, he was still my best friend and even when coupled with darkness that still means something to me.
“You wanted help building your shed, I have provided it. It’s not my fault you weren’t specific.” I turned and left the house without another word. The last thing I saw was the look of disappointment on Matt’s face. It only made me angrier.
5
By the time I got home I was calm again. Luckily Doris and Gavin were both out so their constant bickering wouldn’t wind me up all over again. I made myself a cup of tea and then retired to my room to look through the files. Although, there were hundreds of cases involving the name Panomie the files yielded little information. All the investigators had was the information Richards had given me. Apart from one thing: the ring. Richards had known nothing about the ring but Kevin had said his daughter had been given one. The same was true for each of the children according to the SIT files. There were a total of three children who had not been given rings. I assumed they probably were given rings but had never told their parents. There was a note about the rings:
The children were given a ring. The parents described it as an ugly twisted cheap looking metal with a dirty brown stone. The ring is most likely to be the same one passed from child to child and has some kind of magical properties. I suspect Panomie uses the ring to track his intended victims.
The tracking theory made sense. Although, children weren’t particularly difficult to track, they were most often at home with their parents. Maybe there was more to the ring than SIT had believed. I carried on reading and discovered the file on Kevin. The story was pretty much exactly the same as the one Kevin had told me and once again there was an attached note:
Panomie is described as short, dirty and hairy. Based on this description and his name being Panomie I believe he may be some kind of gnome. Unfortunately the SIT library has no information on gnomes.
A gnome. There was a creature I’d never come across before. Like whoever had written the note, I knew nothing about them. I assumed that the myths were correct and that they were small and burrowed under the ground. Or maybe they stood around in gardens all day pretending to fish. Panomie did sound like a gnome but it was a bit unusual for the guy to be named after his species. Maybe it wasn’t his real name. Maybe he was called Barry. I really hoped he was called Barry. Such an unusual name for a gnome. Or anyone for that matter. If your name is Barry then you may well be insulted by that comment. Get over it.
I looked through the rest of the files but there was nothing else of value. Other than the lead investigator’s name. Sergeant Phil Gatling had been looking into Panomie. It turned out his own niece had been taken by the little fellow. Thinking about it, he probably shouldn’t have been put on the case. No wonder the unit was defunct if the management made decisions like that.
It was possible that Phil Gatling might know something that could help me. Unlikely, because I’d already looked through all his notes and he seemed not
to know anything at all. Also there was the fact that SIT had been wiped out, but if Clara was still alive then maybe Phil was too. It was worth a try. I didn’t want to call Matt for the information because I’d left his house in a bit of bad way. We needed a little time before I went to him for help again. So I decided to call Inspector Richards instead. No, sorry, Detective Chief Inspector Richards. That really is too much to say.
Richards answered on the third ring. “Have you got something for me already?” he said hopefully.
“No, not yet. Erm, what’s your name?” I asked.
“…Mark, why?” he sounded suspicious. I suppose I would be if someone I’d known for months phoned me and asked my name.
“I’d forgotten. It was bugging me,” I confessed.
“Is that why you called because I’m quite busy?” he said with annoyance. That annoyed me. It’s weird how somebody being annoyed with me can in turn annoy me. A vicious circle.
“Yeah, me too, doing your job for you,” I snapped.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, just joking,” I said, pulling it back. “I need to know if Sergeant Phil Gatling is still about. I could do with asking him some questions.”
“The guy who was running the SIT Panomie case? Eddie, don’t you think I’ve already looked into him?”
“I dunno. I thought you could’t get the SIT files?” I said
“I couldn’t but I could see who was running the case. He was promoted to Director of SIT a few months before the incident,” Mark said. Nope, don’t like Mark, I’m going back to Richards.
“And then what?” I already knew the answer.
“The incident.”
“I assume he did not survive?”
“His head was found a few feet away from his body,” Richards said plainly. Apparently he knew more about the incident than he was letting on. I wasn’t going to ask about it though. I had no desire to know more about that particular matter.
“Grim,” I said and hung up without a goodbye. In hindsight that was quite rude.
My investigation looked pretty dead. As dead as old Phil Gatling’s was. And as dead as Phil Gatling was. Bad taste I know. What you gonna do about it? Anyway, I have an advantage, I’m not Phil Gatling and I have magic on my side. I decided I would visit each of the houses of the most recent kidnappings. I probably wasn’t going to find anything but I had to at least try. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I grabbed my coat — I don’t like to use magic to stay warm all the time, sometimes it’s nice to look normal — and headed out. The moment my foot hit the pavement outside the black van came out of nowhere and screeched to a halt in front of me. I’m a pretty savvy guy so I knew an attack of some kind was coming. I raised my hands about to throw up a protection spell but before I had a chance to a thick chain snapped around my wrists binding me. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the chain was iron and had blocked my magic. The guy wielding the chain stepped in front of me. Young, light hair and in excellent shape. I wouldn’t be able to take him in a fist fight. My fighting skills were lacking to say the least. I’m a sorcerer not a fighter.
“You’re handy with a chain. You must be a right laugh in the bedroom,” I joked. No situation is too dire for humour.
He flashed me a small smile. “You might be about to find out,” he said and winked.
“What?” That one comment worried me more than the potential kidnapping that was taking place. He tugged on the chain and pulled me down to my knees. The concrete sliced open the fabric and cut my skin. Without magic I had no choice but to put up with the pain. I’d hate to be human.
“All yours,” the guy said, but not to me. He was looking at someone behind me. I heard them approaching and before I could turn around a bag was pulled down over my head and I was bundled unceremoniously into the back of the van. Terrific.
6
The one holding my chains jumped in the back with me and the guy who put the bag on my head got in the front and started the engine. We weren’t still for long and were very quickly tearing up the street. At this rate we’d probably be pulled over before they got me to wherever they were taking me.
“Is this going to be a long journey?” I asked. Silence was my only reply. “I only ask because if it is I’d really prefer not to have this bag on my head. I get a bit travel sick sometimes and if I throw up in here then it’s gonna get all over my face, all up my nose—”
“Do I need to sedate you?” the one in the front said. His voice was more gruff than the chain-man.
“I would prefer that. It would make the journey more comfortable if I wasn’t conscious to feel it,” I said, only half joking. His driving certainly left something to be desired. It left quite a lot to be desired actually, like not being held hostage in the back of a van.
“Just shut up,” he said.
I realised then that I was annoyed and yet not hateful. There were no urges to inflict an eternity of pain on my captors. The darkness wasn’t effecting me. I looked down at the chains, not that I could actually see them on account of having a bag on my head. The iron wasn’t just blocking my magic, it was binding the darkness. It made sense; the darkness was a result of a magical curse so by neutralising magic the darkness would be neutralised too. It didn’t pose much of a solution, though, not unless I planned on cutting off my magic forever. It might be useful in finding a cure though.
“Who are you?” I asked. Being kidnapped would not stop me from being my usual curious self. I had questions and I wanted them answered.
“I told you to shut up,” Bag-man said.
“I know and I’m ignoring you,” I replied.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” he growled.
“Ooh, now you’re talking,” I said in a sultry voice. I felt my chains tense as the other guy tightened his grip on them.
“You do have a death wish don’t you?” Bag-man said.
“Listen, mate, if you was going to hurt me you would’ve done it already. You would’ve knocked me out but for some reason you’ve been told to keep me unharmed and conscious. I’m in no danger from you,” I said with smug confidence.
“Kegan, kick him,” Bag-man said. At least I now knew one of their names.
“What?” Kegan asked, unsure.
“Kick him. Hurt him. Shut him up,” Bag-man growled.
“No. Let’s just ignore him,” Kegan said. So Bag-man wasn’t in charge.
“I’d rather just make him shut up.”
“Look, she’s gonna be pissed enough when we get back like this. Let’s not make it worse,” said Kegan. Something was worrying him. Something had gone wrong. Was there supposed to be another hostage? Or had they messed something else up.
“She’ll be fine. She never gave us specific instructions,” Bag-man said confidently. Whoever she was he did not fear her. I wasn’t sure that Kegan did either, it was more like he just didn’t want to disappoint her. Maybe their mother?
“Is mummy gonna be upset with you boys?” I mocked. Kegan’s foot slammed into my stomach bashing me into the side of the van and knocking all air from my lungs. I crumpled into the fetal position and wheezed some air back into me, grunting through the pain.
“There we go,” said Bag-man satisfied.
When I finally recovered from the agonising kick I pulled myself back into a sitting position and kept my mouth shut. I’d get all the answers I needed when we arrived at our destination. I only hoped it wasn’t going to be my final destination.
About half an hour later the van stopped and I was dragged out through the sliding door on the side. Judging from the echoing footsteps and the muffled sound of the road outside I guessed that we were in an underground car park. That didn’t really narrow it down though. I thought about asking where we were but I didn’t want another kick, not when I was unable to alleviate the pain.
I was led by the chain into a lift. Neither man said a single word to me. I couldn’t tell whether the lift was going up or down. It was one of those fancy lifts that
moves silently and without feeling like it’s actually moving. I suppose that was better considering the bag on my head would have probably made me quite queasy. Since I assumed we were in an underground car park I guessed we were going up. The doors slid open smoothly, no clinking or clunking like you get in some lifts. Kegan pulled me out and after just a few steps I was pushed into a chair. Not a wooden chair like you’d expect an abductee to be put in, but a very comfortable leather chair. In one quick gesture the bag was whipped off my head and my eyes were attacked by vicious bright sunlight. My eyes adjusted and I took in the office around me. It was spacious and filled with high-end furniture. A glass coffee table was before me with black leather sofas either side of it. I was in a chair positioned at its head. The office had walls of glass; all tinted black except for the windows that looked outside. Those were clear but the office was so high up I could see nothing but sky, grey and cloudy. On the far side of the office was an immaculate glass desk which held nothing but a computer and a file.
The two guys that had kidnapped me were close by. Kegan was standing by the sofa to my left, the chain still firmly in his hand. His face was blank and showed none of the concern I’d heard in the van. Bag-man was standing behind the opposite sofa. He looked to be in his late twenties like Kegan. He was well-built, though not as beefy as Kegan. His hair was dark ginger as was the stubble which clung to his square jaw.
“Nice place you boys have got,” I said as I made myself more comfortable. Kegan gave the chain a gentle tug. “Do you run the whole building or just rent this office?” Bag-man glared at me and I stopped talking, lest I receive another kick.
