The Hidden Gift

by Ian Somers

  ‘Do you think Lambell told the killer where the girl is?’

  ‘Impossible to say. What’s important is that we don’t know where she is.’

  ‘We should call the police. They might be able to save the girl and Lambell’s colleagues.’

  ‘Cops!’ Hunter snorted. ‘We’re the cops in the world of the gifted, Bentley. This is our job.’

  ‘But-’

  ‘But what? You could be sending two, three, five, ten cops to their deaths by alerting them to the killer. Take a good look at this body. Whoever did it is very skilful and comfortable with taking human life. It takes practice to kill and leave virtually no trace. We are dealing with a lethal adversary here, Bentley, and if an individual like that is cornered by normal people there is only one outcome.’

  ‘Cops will have guns.’

  ‘They still won’t stand a chance. I’m not going to risk even more lives because you’re too scared to continue this investigation.’

  ‘Don’t call me a coward, Hunter. I may be many things, but I’m not a coward.’ I was being honest with him when I said I was no coward, however fighting another gifted person couldn’t be taken lightly, and there was a growing fear inside me at the prospect.

  ‘You have to stop thinking about leaving our work for someone else to do. We need to locate the photographer who took the pictures for that article. We have to find her as quickly as we can.’

  ‘All we have is a name. It could take hours to find her.’

  ‘She was friends with Lambell. There may be some clues in this apartment. Let’s tear this place apart. You take the sitting room and I’ll check the other rooms.’

  I went to the room and it was a total mess. Newspapers, magazines, empty pizza boxes, clothes, dirty socks everywhere. The man lived like a total slob. I sifted through the junk and heaped it into the corner then went through the cabinet and book shelves but there was no link to any of his colleagues. When I’d gone through all the obvious places I decided to use my gift to levitate the chairs, TV and sofa then flip them upside down. I gave them all a shake by fluctuating my control over them and every stale crisp, half-eaten chip, coin, cigarette butt, scrap of paper and dust particle fell to the floor. There was still nothing of any use to me.

  I circled the room over and over until I was all out of ideas and sat on the coffee table by the window. Hunter was really tearing the rooms apart and creating an almighty racket. I walked to the hallway and hissed at him to keep it down; we didn’t want the neighbours realising a couple of strangers were tossing the apartment.

  He didn’t reply and didn’t take heed of my warning. He was pulling out drawers from a cabinet and chucking the contents onto the bedroom floor. As I was looking along the hallway I focused on the bundle of coats and scarves that were hanging from a rack on the wall. I noticed the coat I’d seen Lambell wearing at the motorcycle convention and there, as clear as day, was a thick diary sticking out of the pocket.

  I went and pulled it out and began flicking through the pages, but found it to be just as untidy as the living space. There didn’t seem to be any order in his writing whatsoever - odd considering he made a living from writing. The text didn’t seem to be inline with the dates on each page and most of the handwriting was illegible.

  ‘What have you got there?’

  ‘A diary of sorts. Can’t read most of it.’

  ‘Check the front few pages for names and address. There has to be some sort of list in there.’

  I went to the front but there were only empty sheets, apart from doodles. I kept going, trying to figure out anything from the innumerable scribbles. Then a sequence of entries jumped out at me.

  HANNERS

  283

  CHESBIT R

  -

  BECKY

  41

  CHILLINGTON A

  ‘Hunter, what was that photographer’s name?’

  ‘Rebecca Dunlow.’

  ‘And the editor?’

  ‘Christopher Hanley.’

  ‘Give me that phone again. I think we might be in business.’

  I went online and typed in Chesbit R into a search engine and it predicted that what I ought to have been searching for was Chesbit Road. I tried again, this time typing in Chillington A and it gave me the option of Chillington Avenue. I quickly looked up the addresses and they were both in suburbs outside of Newcastle.

  ‘Dunlow lives on Chillington Avenue and Hanley’s on Chesbit Road.’ I looked to my colleague and raised an eyebrow. ‘Who do we go after first?’

  ‘Who’s closest?’

  ‘Dunlow is about five miles from here. Hanley lives maybe ten miles further to the north.’

  ‘We go after Dunlow and pray this murderous swine hasn’t reached her first.’

  We didn’t waste any time and quickly exited the apartment. We kept our heads down as we made our way outside and across the street to the 4x4. No one had taken any notice of us although we had left forensic traces of ourselves behind for the authorities to uncover, but that didn’t seem to be of any significance in that desperate moment. The only thing that was on our minds was preventing the killer from claiming any more lives. We got into the 4x4 and Hunter fired the engine. He didn’t turn the headlights on until we’d turned off the street. The sky was pitch black and an uncertain night lay ahead.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A Race Against Time

  I thought about Lambell as we drove through the suburbs. He was an ordinary man going about his life, probably never wronged anyone, and was likely to be looking forward to spending the weekend with his friends. Then his life was snuffed out just because he knew the name and location of a girl that he probably met only once and for a brief moment. He was just another innocent person who had lost their life because they’d unwittingly gotten involved with the gifted. It was yet another example of how dangerous my world was.

  My thoughts then turned to the murderer. What gifts were we facing? Who was the killer working for? Would we come face to face with this abomination before long? Was it an abomination or was it someone just like me who had been seduced by money or twisted by revenge?

  This would end in violence and death either way. Hunter had been right when he said our lives were on the line once we took on an investigation for the Guild.

  ‘Hunter, who would want the girl? I mean who would want her enough to kill innocent people?’

  ‘Anyone who could profit from being able to predict future events.’

  ‘Great. That narrows it down to a few billion suspects.’

  ‘It could be a company like Golding Scientific. That seems most likely at this point.’

  ‘So there are other organisations trying to find people with the true gifts? Golding Scientific is only one of many possibilities?’

  ‘Yes. Golding is the most prominent of them but they all pose a threat to us. It may not be the case; it could simply be a gifted person who recognised the girl’s power and has decided she would be very valuable if there was a ransom for her.’

  ‘It seems like a lot of trouble to go to considering there is no proof the girl even has a true gift. You said it yourself; this could simply be a child who likes attention.’

  ‘Prophets are rare. Anyone who shows the potential is worth the risk.’

  ‘Is it always like this?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Is being an agent for the Guild always this dangerous? Are there always killers lurking about? Evil corporations trying to snatch gifted kids?’

  ‘Let’s just say it’s never peaceful for too long.’

  We reached Chillington Avenue at 8.30pm and slowed the car across the street from number 41. It was a small terraced house with a car parked in the narrow driveway at the front. The lights inside the house were off. That either meant Rebecca Dunlow wasn’t at home or she’d also fallen victim to the prophet’s pursuer.

  Hunter turned off the engine and lifted the handbrake. He watched the house for a few moments, but there was
no movement inside and the street was quiet but for the odd car that droned past.

  ‘Be ready for a fight, Bentley. We have no idea what’s waiting for us in that house. When we get inside you may sense an attack because of your precog gift, but you’ll only have a split second to react. We cannot hesitate if the killer is inside that house. An instant of indecision and we could both wind up like Lambell. You understand?’

  ‘Strike first and ask questions later?’

  ‘Exactly. Let’s just hope Dunlow is off out having a night on the tiles.’

  We left the 4x4 and quickly crossed the road and leaped over the wooden gate into the front garden. Once we rounded Dunlow’s car we both realised that we were already too late. The lock on the front door was busted. How late were we? Could the killer still be inside?

  ‘Get behind me,’ Hunter ordered quietly, ‘and stay behind me. If I’m attacked you better strike without a second’s thought. Otherwise you’ll be dead.’

  ‘Let me take the lead,’ I argued. ‘I’ll create a shield in front of us. That should protect us from any surprise attacks.’

  Hunter wanted to be the first one in, because he was the more senior of us, but he knew I was right and allowed me to pass to the front.

  I moved in front of him and my body tingled as I drew energy in from my surroundings. I allowed a wave of kinetic energy to pass out of my body and form an invisible wall in front of me, which I moved towards the front of the house. The energy pushed the unlocked door open and filled the tight hallway inside. When I was confident that it covered us from all angles I cautiously entered the dim hallway and made the lights switch on. I paused at the bottom of the stair and listened out for any sound. Nothing. The house was silent and there was an odd smell in the air.

  ‘Dunlow must really like garlic!’ I grimaced. ‘Christ! It’s making my eyes water. Must have been frying chicken too. This is the vilest stench I’ve ever come across.’

  ‘That’s not chicken you’re smelling, Bentley.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Let’s comb the rooms and make sure our murderous friend isn’t still hanging about.’

  We searched the living room, kitchen and the study before creeping up the stairs and checking each of the three bedrooms. All were dark and empty and the house remained silent. The only place we were yet to look was the bathroom. Hunter walked ahead of me and slowly turned the door knob then pushed the door open. The room was dark, but we had discovered the source of the curious odour; the stench was overpowering now.

  Hunter pointed into the room and sent a bolt of electricity inside that crawled the walls until it found the overhead light and a wall mounted lamp above the sink. Both bulbs were ignited by his gift and the small room was suddenly filled with stark white light.

  We moved forward together and the stink was making my lungs convulse. I pulled my jacket up over my nose and winced as I took my first step inside. As we rounded the open door we saw what was creating the terrible odour. We had found Rebecca Dunlow and her lifeless body was slumped in the corner, her head and shoulders leaning against the side of the tub. I’d handled the last dead body quite well but this was altogether different. I couldn’t focus on what was before my eyes and turned to the wall and hunched over, retching wildly.

  ‘Dear God!’ Hunter cursed. ‘What on earth is this?’

  ‘It appears the killer doesn’t mind leaving marks on the body after all.’ I sucked in deep breaths – the stench made water gather in my mouth and I fought the urge to vomit. ‘How could anyone do that to another human being?’

  ‘We are obviously dealing with two separate killers.’ He turned to me and patted me on the shoulder. ‘You don’t have to look at it again. Go downstairs and have a glass of water. This would be quite a shock even for the most experienced agents.’

  ‘I’ve seen it now and there’ll be no way I’ll ever be able to forget it.’

  ‘Are you sure you can handle this, Bentley?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I straightened myself and ran my sleeve over my mouth. ‘I’m all right.’

  We approached the body and stood either side of it. Dunlow was in a seated position, was wearing a charcoal coloured skirt and black shoes with a dressing gown.

  ‘She was probably getting ready to go out for the night,’ Hunter said as he leaned over her.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Looks like she was in the middle of getting dressed. Fancy shoes and skirt. Look, there’s a blouse on a hanger. Make-up by the sink.’

  I forced myself to inspect the body. There were circular wounds across her arms, shoulders, chest, neck and face. At first I thought they were simply burns, but on closer examination the flesh looked melted and each wound was very deep – some were right to the bone. There was very little left of her face and strands of her hair were white and curled up like they’d been too close to a fire.

  ‘Was this caused by one of the true gifts?’ I wondered. ‘Maybe a fire-starter?’

  ‘Yes, a pyrokinetic could be responsible, but the wounds are unusual.’ He pointed to the marks in Dunlow’s flesh. ‘Look here, it’s almost like a chemical was used on her. If I didn’t know better I’d say these are white phosphorus burns. Some militaries use white phosphorus as weapons … but that would make no sense… it has to be the work of a pyro … I don’t know what happened here, I’m sure we’re dealing with two separate killers.’

  ‘Working together or both acting independently?’

  ‘I don’t know, Bentley. I just do not know.’

  ‘Should we contact the Guild? It’s starting to look like we’re outnumbered.’

  ‘There’s no time to call in help. We have to find the editor of the newspaper.’

  ‘I don’t feel right leaving her,’ I nodded at the body, ‘just lying on a cold floor like this. We should lift her out of here or something.’

  ‘She’s dead and the only thing we can do for her now is to catch the person who did this awful thing to her.’ He took a towel from a chrome rack above the bath tub and gently placed it over Dunlow’s face. ‘We have to get moving, Bentley. There’s no time to waste.’

  I nodded without saying a word and within minutes we’d left the house and were on the road again. I felt guilty walking away and leaving the body of that unfortunate woman slumped on a floor as we skulked away into the night. She deserved better than that and we probably should have called 999. That was out of the question and I knew it; we couldn’t notify anyone that we’d discovered the body because that would complicate the hunt for the gifted child. It was already complicated enough.

  Hunter drove hard across the suburban streets. I watched him as he drove and noticed an angry determination grow into his face. He was obviously as livid as I was that two people had been murdered in such ghastly ways.

  There was a lot I wanted to discuss with him but I said nothing. He didn’t have the look of a man who felt very talkative.

  A deep fear was rising from my stomach into my chest since we’d found Dunlow in such a dreadful state. To my mind she’d been tortured to extract information out of her. Whoever had done it was a total lunatic and was using methods unfamiliar to us. If we stumbled onto this person it would be difficult to defend against whatever the strange weaponry they were using and it was becoming obvious that human life meant little to those who were also searching for the little girl.

  We reached Chesbit Road before 9pm and Hunter parked the car right outside the garden gates. We looked at the house and a few of the windows were illuminated, but there wasn’t any movement inside. There was nothing too suspicious about the place, but I knew that anything could have been going inside those walls. My hands had started shaking and I couldn’t make them stop. I didn’t allow Hunter to see how nervous I had become.

  We both left the 4x4 without speaking. There was no need to; we both knew what was to be done. We used the same tactic that had worked when we infiltrated Dunlow’s house, and I used my powers to create a wall of energy t
hat moved ahead of us and swept the hall door open as we took to the threshold. I was the first to step inside and I was half expecting that same acrid odour to be sucked into my lungs when I took my first breath of the atmosphere of the house. There was no foul stench though, just the scent of air freshener, or wood polish, I couldn’t figure out which it was.

  ‘You take the ground floor,’ Hunter whispered over my shoulder. ‘I’ll take a look upstairs.’

  I nodded and made my way into the large dining room to my left. There was no one in sight yet a TV was on, with the volume muted, and a cup of tea was standing on the table with steam still rising from it. The walls on all sides were stuffed with portraits of Hanley and his wife and their two young children.

  Where were they? Who’d been drinking that cup of tea? Had the mysterious murderer arrived before us yet again?

  I moved back into the hallway and treaded along the glossy wooden floor to the kitchen area. The lights were on, nothing was out of place, and a pot on the stove was bubbling. I checked the back door and it was locked from the inside. There was no sign of any disturbance. But where were Hanley and his family?

  ‘Bentley,’ Hunter shouted from above. ‘Get up here fast.’

  I raced up the staircase to find him standing by the door to the back bedroom. I went to his side and looked into the room, expecting the worst.

  We were too late. Hanley was sitting on a chair with his head bent back. He had that same blank look in his eyes that Lambell had. I took a step forward just to be sure that he was dead and placed my fingertips against his neck. There was no pulse, but he wasn’t cold yet. That meant he was only killed moments earlier. I looked at his face and the horror was still in those eyes, a Polaroid of his final terrible moment in life. I then looked at his mouth and saw it was full of water; when I lifted his head forward it poured down his chin onto his chest and thighs.