He talked fast, and Daniel nodded. "For a short-arse Yank, you're okay."
Gabe looked as if he was about to respond, but Spot chose that moment to point at his injured opponent, beat his chest and roar to the cheering crowd before turning to face Daniel again.
"Quick," said Daniel. "What's Plan B?"
"Oh. There isn't one. I just said that to make you feel better. Make Plan A work, that's my advice."
"Great advice, just...great."
Daniel started jogging backwards again, his shoulder sending fresh jabs of pain to his brain with every step.
Spot was confident now, his glittering eyes following Daniel's progress as the crowd settled into a no doubt familiar chant of, "Fuck him up! Fuck him up! Fuck him up!"
Daniel admitted to himself that Gabe's idea had merit. He could beat Spot on his own, but not without sustaining more injuries. He'd already effectively lost the use of his left arm. If he was going to be of any use when the IGLU team met Mr Cole, he could do with keeping all of his other limbs in working order.
He hated fighting other halfheroes. It wasn't the fact that they were harder to beat, it was the fact that they had chosen badly, become the bad guys. It was rarely as straightforward as that, but, however they had got there, they had ended up on the wrong side. Criminals, mercenaries, assassins even. It was depressing.
Looking at Spot, he doubted any real choice had been involved. The halfhero facing him was well named since he displayed no more intelligence than a canine. There was a studded dog collar around his neck, but it wasn't there as part of his outfit. His handlers had led him to the fight at the end of a chain. Both of them carried cattle prods. Daniel's adversary looked like he'd been trained to fight in the same way dogs are prepared for the fighting pits.
Daniel got to the position Gabe had indicated and stopped, looking at those rage-filled eyes on the far side of the concrete ring. Spot prepared to charge.
Yeah. Perhaps I'll save feeling sorry for him until this is over.
Daniel came up onto his toes and bent his knees, bobbing like a tennis player waiting to receive a serve. His knees creaked as if to remind him he was far closer to forty than thirty. He tried not to blink as he watched Spot, readying himself, knowing he could move quickly for a big man, and hoping it would be enough. He was waiting opposite his corner. Thirty feet away, Sara was standing directly behind Spot. Gabe was off to one side, his body tense.
Daniel had been caught napping the first time Spot had charged him. This time he was looking for the signs. No one can go from a standing start to top speed without a moment's tension and a period of acceleration, however brief. Daniel saw it just as it began, a dipping of Spot's shoulders, the top half of Sara's body becoming visible as he crouched, his back leg bending to propel him forwards.
Daniel moved immediately, but as the halfhero opposite threw himself across the distance between them, he wasn't sure he had been fast enough. The speed of the thing was incredible. Daniel shifted right and pivoted onto his left foot, bringing both his fists together as if swinging an invisible hammer. His shoulder screamed, but he ignored the fresh agony and swung both arms anti-clockwise as he continued to pivot, his right foot leaving the ground while he turned through forty-five degrees. Daniel liked to think the move was balletic, but he didn't know of any giant ballerinas with only two toes on their pirouetting foot.
He made it out of the path of the oncoming maniac. Just. Spot brushed past with the lightest of touches. At this speed, there was no way he could stop. Daniel was supposed to act as a braking mechanism. Instead, Spot continued towards the padlocked door leading to his corner and his handlers, who were already throwing themselves out of the way.
As Daniel's hands swung round, he felt the massive ripple of force along his arms that meant Gabe's plan had worked. He didn't need to see Sara to know that she had stepped up to the cage and pushed her hands forwards, a subtle gesture that would go unnoticed as everyone focussed on the action at the far side. The top of the ball of energy that she had summoned hit Daniel's arms, spinning him faster. He lost his balance and fell, mercifully onto his right side. As he hit the concrete, he heard a sound like a freight train derailing at speed.
Daniel looked up. Spot's back had taken most of the impact of Sara's intervention, and it had added significantly to his already impressive momentum. He had hit the cage at the edge of the padlocked door, his head and shoulder bending the steel as he went through. Rivets had popped, and welds had given way under the sudden, unprecedented, pressure. He hung there now, like the ugliest doll in history, unconscious, half his body out of the cage, blood running down his face.
Daniel took a few breaths. Gabe winked at him from the other side. Sara smiled. A couple of suits were approaching and, as Daniel watched, one of them bent and whispered something in Sara's ear. She nodded and replied, pointing at Daniel. It looked as if the rest of the night's fun was on, then.
Daniel put his elbow on the concrete and pushed himself onto his knees. Another few breaths, then he stood up.
And the crowd went mental.
3
Mr Cole's office was somewhat of a contrast to the fighting pit underneath his favourite sushi restaurant. Instead of concrete floors and bloodstains, there were parquet floors and the biggest rugs Daniel had ever seen. Rather than the smell of cigarettes, beer, and piss, a faint hint of lotus blossom pervaded the space. This wasn't due to a plugin air freshener. As eight bodyguards directed the IGLU team across a small bridge in the centre of the room, Daniel glanced down at the artificial stream that divided the upper and lower levels. It led into a pool containing a dozen koi carp. And real lotus flowers.
"I'm impressed. I thought Spot would retire undefeated. He was quite a find." The man speaking was walking down a staircase that followed the wall to their right before curving into the room. He was small, a little overweight, and was wearing olive chinos with a black silk shirt.
Casual wear for the villain in your life, thought Daniel, and covered his laugh with a cough.
Cole paused at the foot of the stairs and regarded Daniel with distaste, before turning to Sara. "There was really no need to bring your pet with you, Ms Gray. You've made your point. And he smells."
Daniel bristled and almost spoke before remembering to leave the talking to Sara, as agreed. Besides, Cole did have a bit of a point about the smell. He'd just spent the night brawling, dispatching four progressively tougher opponents before they'd brought out Spot. Still, he'd had a quick spray with a deodorant. How bad could it be?
He noticed Sara and Gabe were standing a few paces away. Oh. Pretty bad, then.
"Mr Cole, Daniel is my colleague, as is Gabe. We work as a team."
"Hmm." Cole stepped away from the staircase and showed them to a vast sitting area. Daniel chose a pure white armchair and flopped into it, enjoying the tiny wince on Cole's face.
A lackey glided to Cole's side. "My usual," said Cole, before turning back to his guests. "What would you like to drink?"
"Oh, a glass of champagne for me," said Sara, and Cole tilted his head approvingly.
"I'm cool," said Gabe. Cole continued to look at him. "I'm good." Still nothing. "I don't need a drink, man."
As Cole still seemed intent on ignoring him, Daniel shouted after the lackey as he walked away: "Oi! Garçon. Lager. And make sure it's cold."
Daniel hadn't expected to like Cole, but this was worse than he had thought. He was one of those crime bosses who didn't like to get their hands dirty, who relied on others to perform all the unsavoury acts that allowed him to live in a place like this.
"How much did this pile set you back?" said Daniel. "I mean, I know it's only Birmingham, but, still."
Cole didn't rise to the bait, and Sara gave Daniel the briefest of glances. Oh yeah. I'm not supposed to talk so much.
Daniel shut up, but when the drinks arrived, he slurped loudly and managed a particular fine belch halfway through the bottle.
"Cheers, Cole."
Tosser.
"Mr Cole," began Sara, sipping her champagne. "You said you had a business proposition. Why don't you tell us what you have in mind."
Cole's eyes flicked from her eyes to her lips as she drank. Gabe and Daniel exchanged a brief glance. It wasn't the first time they'd felt invisible when Sara negotiated with a heterosexual male.
Sara looked like a pin-up model. Not the kind you see in a car mechanic's office when you go to pay your bill, feel awkward about, almost say something, then don't. More like a Hollywood star of the nineteen-fifties. She was beautiful, she knew it, and she wasn't a dick about it. A rare combination.
Not long after they had met, Daniel had asked how she dealt with unwanted male attention. Sara had laughed.
"I hardly get any." Seeing Daniel's unbelieving look, she had patted his hand mock-condescendingly. "Listen, poppet, men don't approach women they think are out of their league. It's a natural law."
Daniel had persisted. "But some of them must pluck up the courage. Or think they're good-looking enough to have a go."
"Yeah," she had admitted. "A few. I tell them I'm gay."
Daniel laughed. "Does that work?"
"Yes. It does, Daniel. Because I'm gay."
"Ah. Oh, great. Now I feel like a cock."
"Well, if you're desperate, I can ask around...?"
Since then, Daniel had been trying very hard not to assume all beautiful women were straight. His excuse to Sara had been that attitudes had changed in society during the fourteen years he'd spent in a semi-catatonic state.
Until recently, he'd thought LGBTQ was a sandwich.
Now Cole was succumbing to her magic. Well, that wasn't the whole story. There was Sara's other talent, too, one she'd grown into during adolescence as a child of The Deterrent. She was nudging him, mentally. She was being subtle about it, just reinforcing ideas Cole might already have about her, amplifying some, discouraging others. She'd demonstrated her power on Daniel early on when he'd questioned its usefulness, and he'd eaten three raw onions thinking they were apples before he knew what she was doing.
"What I want," Cole was saying, "is to make you an offer for your creature here."
He pointed at Daniel. "I know what he is. I know who his father was. No, don't waste time trying to deny it. Halfheroes are a rare find indeed, but they are not an urban myth, as you and I both know, Ms Gray."
Sara was silent. Cole smiled.
"Don't be surprised. My business is built on information. You have been in town for less than two weeks, but your boy here has made quite an impression. Even so, no one thought he stood a chance against Spot. No human would. So, shall we start the negotiations, Ms Gray?"
"Well," said Sara, "if we're going to be open about this, I think you'd better call me Sara."
Cole smiled at that. Daniel wondered how he would react if he knew he was in a room with not one, but three, halfheroes. Well, he'd know soon enough.
"Very well," said Cole. "Sara. And," he lowered his voice, "you must call me Crispin."
"Crispin!" repeated Daniel, loudly, spraying beer on the rug. One of the bodyguards made a noise that may have been a snigger.
Cole's face coloured, and he started to stand up.
"I'll tell you what," said Sara, smiling. "Why don't we discuss this in private, Crispin."
Cole recovered his composure aided, Daniel was sure, by another mental nudge from Sara.
"Yes," said Cole, "why not?"
He stood, walked to the foot of the stairs, and waited for Sara. A nod to his guards, and they turned their attention to Daniel and Gabe, who stayed in the seating area.
"Make sure our guests are comfortable," he said, "and don't hesitate to shoot them if they try to leave."
Daniel raised his bottle in mock salute, but made sure he caught Sara's eye. She would have to be careful. Cole was a violent, volatile man who'd risen to the top of the underworld by going further than anyone else; having someone beaten up for a careless remark, killing any serious rivals. Sara would do well not to underestimate him.
"Let's talk on the roof," he said. "It's a beautiful night."
"Perfect," she said.
The biggest bodyguard went to walk with them, and Sara turned to Cole in mock surprise.
"Really?" she said, with a flirtatious smile.
"Really," he returned, smiling back.
Daniel felt a moment of unease as he watched the three of them follow the curve of the staircase up the wall and out of sight.
Daniel winked at the guards, who had now removed their guns from hidden holsters and were projecting an air of professional menace.
"All right, boys? Any danger of another beer?"
No one moved.
"Well, the service here is bloody awful. Don't expect a tip."
The seven men were stony-faced.
Daniel checked his watch. Not long before midnight. The next few minutes were crucial. He knew Sara had hooked Cole, but the fact that he insisted on bringing the bodyguard suggested he might be capable of resisting some of her mental nudges. Even so, he was talking to her alone, which meant he had taken the bait. He wanted to buy Daniel, break him psychologically the way he'd done to that poor bastard in the cage, and use him as his new fighting dog.
He knew Sara could handle the bodyguard, and as soon as she was on the roof, she'd send the text calling the helicopter.
It was all fine.
So why did he have a bad feeling?
He heard rotor blades. They were getting closer. He signalled to Gabe, positioning his fingers on the beer bottle and tilting his head slightly. He'd take the four on one side, Gabe could deal with the three behind him.
Gabe nodded. The approaching helicopter got louder. One of the guards frowned, brought his jacket cuff up to his mouth and spoke into it.
"Carver?"
It was the first moment there had been any kind of distraction. Gabe responded immediately, saying, "indigestion."
As soon as he heard the code word, Daniel counted silently to five, knowing Gabe was doing the same.
One...two...three...
The guard spoke into his cuff again. One of the others looked over.
"Carver? You there?"
...Four...
"Carver!"
...Five.
Daniel moved at precisely the same moment as Gabe, throwing himself forward from his chair, but before he was on his feet, Gabe had passed him, and the first guard was on his way to the floor, a jab behind his ear inducing a blackout. As Daniel picked up the five-seater couch, wincing at the strain it put on his shoulder, Gabe's second target received a precisely positioned punch to his solar plexus that would leave him struggling for breath for an hour. At the same moment as the first bullet pinged painfully off Daniel's chest, Gabe dived to the floor. The third guard was still raising his weapon when the smaller man slid into his feet, and he fell. Before he could react, Gabe pinched a spot near the top of his nose. The guard twitched and passed out.
Meanwhile, Daniel had been hit by another two bullets, but the sofa was finally on its way, collecting three of the four guards and sending them crashing into the far wall. The last man turned and ran for the stairs. Gabe was still on the floor when the guard started his ten-yard sprint. When the man reached the foot of the stairs, Gabe was waiting for him.
The surprised look on the guard's face was still there when his legs crumpled beneath him.
"You really must teach me more of that stuff," said Daniel as they ran upstairs.
The noise of the rotors was very loud now.
Neither of them said what both of them were thinking.
Why hasn't it landed?
The helicopter was hovering a short distance away from the roof, its searchlight trained on the figures beneath. As Daniel and Gabe r
eached the top of the stairs and the open glass door, they were just in time to hear a gun shot. The chopper's light went out, and it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust.
When they did, they could see that the situation they found themselves in wasn't quite what they had anticipated at the planning stage.
Cole had not been mentally, or physically, subdued by Sara, and was not meekly on his way to the waiting helicopter. Instead, he had a gun in his hand and was looking towards the door where Daniel and Gabe waited. The helicopter hovered about fifty feet behind him.
Sara was standing at the very edge of the roof, to their right. She was standing very still. Six feet in front of her was Spot, his misshapen head bandaged, but otherwise in fine, psychotically dangerous, condition. Daniel could vouch that Spot was one tough bastard, but he'd never have suspected he was quite this resilient.
Daniel could see the problem. Sara couldn't risk using her power. She might manipulate the air around her, or cause one of the big terracotta pot plants nearby to fly towards Spot, but she'd only get one chance. They'd all seen how fast he could move. And a fifty-one-storey fall would be long enough for her to thoroughly regret trying her luck.
The guard who'd come up with them was lying on his side halfway between them and Sara. Part of his head was missing.
"Spot tends to be a little excitable when I first let him out," called Cole. "He'd never attack me, of course, but anyone else is fair game, aren't they, boy?"
A guttural growl was Spot's response.
"Come on, Daniel. May as well come out. Welcome to the team. I might even let you share a kennel with Spot once you've been through my training programme."
Another growl. Sara eyed the creature warily.
"Cole hasn't seen you," Daniel whispered to Gabe, trying to keep his mouth perfectly still. Gabe was behind him, and about a third of his width. "Follow me out, closely."
"Gollow nee out glosely? Got it."
Daniel made a mental note to slap Gabe later, then walked out. He could hear Gabe breathing behind him. If he could get close enough for his fellow halfhero to use his speed, they might still salvage the situation.
Halfheroes Page 2
