'The BTCO. The commanding officer here should be expecting me. I need to see that alleyway.'
Officer Carter looked around, clearly searching for his superior. Bermuda cast his gaze in the same direction. An elder-looking officer was standing at the mouth of the alleyway, his arms folded and a stern look across a world-weary face as a SOCO explained the situation.
'Wait here,' Carter said firmly, striding powerfully towards the two of them. Bermuda looked around; everything he could see was of this world. No secrets just for him.
'That is the location of her disappearance.' Argyle's voice boomed next to him, making him jump slightly. 'Through that archway into the dark path beyond.'
Bermuda nodded in agreement, impatient as he watched the sergeant shake his head and remonstrate a point to his subordinate. Carter slowly walked back towards them; his face told them their answer.
'Sorry, sir, but you can't go in. The sergeant isn't convinced that your presence is needed.'
'I'm sure they would have called ahead.'
'They did.' Carter sighed. 'However, the sarge said he has never heard of your organisation and this is his crime scene, so if you don't mind...'
'This is ridiculous,' Bermuda exclaimed, storming past the apologetic officer towards the alleyway. As Carter yelled out for him to stop, Sergeant Kevin Milton stepped forward.
'What the hell do you think you are doing? I said I didn't want you on this crime scene, so you either step back across that goddamn tape or you will be driven back in handcuffs.'
Bermuda flipped his badge open.
'Sir, I am Agent Jones from the BTCO. My superiors called to say I would be here.'
'Never heard of it in my thirteen years on the force,' Milton replied with an irritating smugness. He slapped the leather badge closed in Bermuda's hand, their eyes locked, daring the other one to break. 'You are not getting on my crime scene, so I suggest you fuck off back to your little BTCO and tell them the real police are handling this.'
Bermuda held the man's stare, the sergeant limbering up as if expecting trouble. An excited whisper spread through the spectators and Bermuda felt a strong grip wrap around his elbow. He looked up at a sorrowful Carter, who motioned that he was to leave. Bermuda smirked at the Sergeant.
'I'll go. No need to have your lapdog here put his hands on me.'
Ignoring the insult, Milton motioned for Carter to release his hold, an order that was followed immediately. Bermuda straightened his sleeve and turned, walking back towards the crowd. His pathway was cut short by the invisible wall named Argyle.
'We have a job to do.' His words came through as a threat.
'I know, Big Guy.' Carter turned in confusion as Bermuda spoke to no one. 'I need some help here.'
'What do you require?' Argyle stood straight, ready to work.
'I need a distraction.'
'How?' Argyle asked, watching as Officer Carter strode to his partner and began to slowly push him towards the edge of the police cordon. Bermuda, obligingly walking with the young officer, looked back over his shoulder.
'Improvise.'
As Carter roughly battled with Bermuda, who was now resisting his dismissal, Argyle scanned the area, his eyes running over the world that he was still learning. With noble purpose, he approached the police car, the blue lights reflecting powerfully off of his chest plate. One final glance to see Bermuda still struggling and Argyle bent forward and threw his hands under the side of the car. With a grunt of discomfort, he pushed himself upwards.
'OH MY GOD!'
'WHAT THE HELL?'
'JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!'
The wild screams of the crowd caused Carter to loosen his grip of the unwanted guest, and realised their reason when he followed their horrified eyes.
His police car was tipping onto its side.
Forgetting Bermuda completely, Carter jogged over to the vehicle, his face turning a ghostly pale as he watched the two-tonne machine begin to rise. He was soon joined by a perplexed Milton and the SOCOs. A flickering of flashes, like fireflies at twilight, filled the crowd as they looked to capture the moment on their phones.
'What the hell is happening?' Milton asked, failing to disguise the panic in his voice.
'I have no idea, sir,' Carter replied, his voice shaken as the car continued to tip, slowly rocking further onto two wheels.
'How is it doing that?' one of the SOCOs asked, his voice muffled by his face mask.
'Grab that side, quick,' Carter said, taking charge of the situation and reaching up to grab the car. Even with a firm grip and his impressive body weight, the car didn't budge. The other SOCO grabbed the side of the bonnet, trying to help pull it down. Between the two of them, Argyle stood, his arms rippling and shaking as he continued to push the car upwards. He glanced over his shoulder towards the cordoned area.
Bermuda was gone.
He slowly began to lower the car, the crowd gasping at the anomaly they had witnessed. Videos of it would be on the news later, members of the crowd eager to sell their footage. The internet would have a field day.
As the officers began to calm, returning the car to its rightful place with all four wheels touching the ground, Argyle looked towards the entrance to the alleyway.
It was clear.
Bermuda needed more time.
As the officers congratulated themselves for resolving the issue, Argyle slowly walked to the other side of the vehicle. Taking a deep breath, he leant forward and sent everyone into another frenzy.
Bermuda ducked under the police tape and entered the small, darkened alleyway. The two buildings stood either side of it, shielding the walkway from the sun. Two long strips of concrete framed the cut through, not a door or exit in sight. His footsteps let off a small echo as he hurriedly walked, wanting to take as much of it in as he could. It was only a matter of time, amongst the furore outside, that they would notice he had gone missing.
His eyes searched one side of the wall, flicking through lines of graffiti that scrawled over it like the tattoos across his body.
Nothing.
Not one thing in the alleyway that could give him so much as a clue as to what happened to this poor girl. He looked at the small police cordon that was set up next to the wall, a few markings to ensure nobody ventured near.
As he approached, he saw a handbag, leather and open with some of its contents spilling to the side. A switched-off phone, a makeup mirror—nothing that would indicate what had happened.
'Where did you go?' he asked, out loud.
About to leave, his vision danced over the wall and snapped his attention.
He very slowly walked towards it, squinting with concentration. Amongst the obscene graffiti and artwork was a mark, a symmetrical engraving that looked as though it had been burnt into the brick itself. With a cautious hand, he reached out to run his finger through the groove. As the tip hit the coarse brick, he felt a small shudder through his body. A spectre of something else.
Something Other.
As his fingers ran along the coarseness of the imprint, he could feel something reaching out, a horrible feeling like a magnetic pull coursing from the brick. With a fretful frown, he retracted his hand quickly. It was becoming stronger, the nagging suspicion that he was being slowly pulled across to their side once again.
It terrified him.
He looked around quickly, the inevitable arrest reaching ever closer. His hand dipped into the back pocket of his jeans and retrieved his notepad. With a click, the pen hit the pad and he sketched down the marking, ensuring that the strange twelve-sided shape was captured. Crudely scribbled on the paper, he took one final glance of the alleyway before jogging back to the entrance.
Argyle had ended his merry chase, although the crowd of people were still alive with excitement, crazy rumours of what they had witnessed spreading like wildfire. Carter was standing next to the vehicle; the look on his face ensured this was an experience that had burnt itself into an eternal memory. As he ducked under the ta
pe, Bermuda was immediately confronted by an irate Sergeant Milton.
'Where the hell have you been?'
Bermuda slowly tucked the notepad into his pocket, ensuring it didn't get confiscated.
'I was just leaving and I think I took a wrong turn.'
'I don't know what the hell you are up to, but I swear to God, if I see you on my crime scene one more time, I'll arrest you myself. Understand?'
'Completely. I have everything I need anyway.'
'Right then.' Milton folded his broad arms across his chest, trying hard to convey his authority. 'Fuck off.'
'Ditto.' Bermuda flashed him an irritating grin and then sharply made a turn towards the excited gathering.
'You really should treat these men with respect.' Argyle's voice drowned out the noise of the afternoon as they approached the cordon.
'I have nothing but respect for them. But that guy was an arsehole.'
'Did you find anything?' Argyle asked, following carefully behind Bermuda as they walked between the groups of excited pedestrians, all of them hoping for another phenomenon. Bermuda stepped out from them, into the beaming sun, and looked up towards the sky. The warmth struck his face and he smiled, sliding a cigarette between his lips and flicking his lighter.
'I think so, Big Guy,' he responded smokily. He patted the back pocket of his jeans, turned on his heels, and began making his way towards the station.
'Where are we going?' Argyle followed a few steps behind his partner. Bermuda blew a cloud of smoke into the breeze, appreciating Argyle's enthusiasm. Although not human, Bermuda trusted him more than anyone else.
'By the way, well done on the distraction. Very dramatic.'
'I did not intend to cause such a commotion,' Argyle mustered, tinged with sorry.
They turned off the main road, following the walkway towards the other side of the alleyway. Already ahead of them, Bermuda could see the flashing lights of the police car; the officers carefully watched it in fear, having seen Argyle's handiwork earlier. He chuckled to himself, wondering if Argyle would lift that car just to scare them all again. Argyle brought him back with a question.
'What are we doing here? The superior officer asked you to leave.'
'I have left. We are not going to the crime scene.' Bermuda didn't look back as he spoke, crossing the road quickly to avoid the gathering crowd on this side of the alleyway. Word was spreading fast of a missing person and magical, floating cars. Two white vans marked with TV logos stopped halfway up the road, teams of people scurrying out with recording equipment. Bermuda shook his head, knowing that they would never be able to report on the actual truth. Everything they would spout, regardless of how real it would seem, was all a fabrication. Scientists would speculate that a gravitational shift was responsible for Argyle's act of strength and loyalty. The police will plead with the public to help them find Jess.
No one would know the truth.
A world wrapped safely in cotton wool.
A few more feet and Bermuda stopped at the gated gardens of Garland House, casting his gaze up at the large, white pebbled building that was segregated into flats. A few residents leant from their windows, watching the people below move around like excitable ants.
'Then what are we doing here?’ Argyle’s question filtered through the frustration in his voice. Bermuda stopped at the metal entrance way and turned back, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
'We are going to find out what the hell is going on.'
Argyle nodded and the two of them entered the grounds, marching towards the large front door that shimmered in the sunlight.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sophie Summers jolted in a sudden panic as the intercom rasped through the hallway of her flat. Sat on the cream sofa in the spacious living room, she had drawn her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She wanted to fold up, hide away from a world that had stolen her best friend.
Her brown eyes stung from crying, her makeup smudged and spraying dark streaks down her striking cheekbones. Her dark hair, usually flowing to her shoulders, was scruffily tied up in a lopsided ponytail, the stress of the day hung from her like wet clothes.
Her best friend was missing.
She had spoken to her moments before, knowing she was a few minutes from walking through the door. They were going to sit, maybe open another bottle of wine, and excitedly discuss their careers. Like Jess, Sophie was also beginning to climb the model ladder, having just shot the autumn collection for a high-street brand’s soon-to-be-released catalogue.
They had so much to discuss.
So much to look forward to.
Now she was gone.
A few tears silently perched on the lids of her sore eyes before hurling themselves down the well-worn black paths of the others.
The intercom rasped again and she slowly approached it, stepping into the hallway lined with canvas paintings of European cities. She stopped in front of a watercolour depicting Amsterdam as she reached a delicate hand up to the machine.
'Hello?' She sniffled, holding down the speech button. The speaker rasped a little.
'Hello. Miss Summers?'
The voice wasn't familiar.
'Who is this?' she asked, terrified by a strange voice on a day of stranger events.
'Ma'am, I am Agent Franklyn Jones. I'm here to interview you in regards to the disappearance of Jessica Lambert.'
Sophie reached out and pressed her hand against the wall for support. Her head bowed over as she struggled for breath. Hearing a stranger talk of her friend's sudden vanishing brought over a new wave of sadness. She clung to the air that left her and steadied herself.
'Come in,' she said, trying to sound in control. She unlocked the building’s front door remotely and waited patiently. Nervously, she dabbed at her cheeks with a tissues, wiping away the black evidence of heartbreak. Trying to arrange her hair to a more respectable state, she peered through the peephole of her front door as she heard footsteps approaching.
The man was younger than he sounded, his light brown hair swept to the side in a neat parting. His face, handsome and lined with stubble, housed two green eyes that were looking around with convincing interest. He was attractive and she scorned herself for even noticing, given the circumstances for his presence.
He reached out with a toned arm and gently rapped on the door.
'Who is it?' she called out, second-guessing her decision to let someone this close to her when she felt so vulnerable.
'Agent Jones. We just spoke a moment ago.' The words filtered through the thick door to her, a slight confusion wrapped around them. Sophie slowly opened the door, the light from the hall cutting through until the chain pulled. Her eyes flickered through the gap, nervously searching the strange man in front of her.
'Can I see some ID?' Her words shook slightly despite her best efforts. With a friendly and handsome smile, the man dipped his hand into his back pocket and produced a leather case. Flipping it open, she read the credentials that ran next to his photo. Her nose scrunched, revealing cute dimples that made him smile.
'Is there a problem, Miss Summers?' His words were calming.
'What is the BTCO?' She looked back to his face as he snapped shut the ID and returned it to its denim prison.
'It's a specialist unit. I have a few questions I need to ask you about your friend. I am happy to do this by phone or in the hallway if you like?'
'No, please. Come in.' She closed the door and rattled the chain free before welcoming him in. 'I'm just a little scared.'
'Understandable. Thank you.' Bermuda smiled at her as he stepped across a pink welcome mat, the word Welcome embroidered in red roses. She slowly shuffled down the hallway; her figure dancing with such a natural fluidity, Bermuda couldn't help but watch her until a disgruntled grunt from Argyle caused him to respectfully avert his gaze. She disappeared into the living room, and as Bermuda entered she was already curled up on the sofa, a thin, blue blanket wrapped around her legs. He smiled and to
ok a seat opposite, between them a glass coffee table covered in tear-stained tissues. Argyle took his stand in the corner, although she would never know.
'Okay, Miss Summers, if you could...'
'Sophie,' she insisted, forcing a smile through her apparent turmoil.
'Sophie,' he replied with one of his own. 'If you could tell me what you remember of last night, that would be great.'
'Okay. I mean it was a standard party, really. Alcohol, some drugs...' Her eyes flickered to Bermuda in a panic. 'Not that we did any.'
'Don't worry about it. I couldn't give a damn if you did or not.' Sophie stared at him sceptically. 'Please continue.'
'Well I got talking to this guy. Mark Rammage?' She looked at Bermuda expectantly. His eyes remained vacant. 'Plays one of the lead roles on Casualty?'
'Is that a TV show?' Bermuda asked, entirely genuine.
'Err, yeah. Anyway, I agreed to go back to his and then he started to get a little bit too full on in the cab. I mean, I'm not a prude, but there is a time and a place.'
'Sounds like a classy guy,' Bermuda quipped, looking around the room. Argyle remained statuesque in the corner.
'Well anyways, he got out of the cab at his and I asked the driver to bring me back here. He yelled after me, called me a 'fucking bitch', but to be honest, the guy is a dickhead. Completely up himself.'
'Interesting. What can you tell me about your friend?'
He suddenly realised why she was relaying the pointless story of the TV star. The pain of her friend’s disappearance exploded forward, her face wrenching into complete discomfort, her beautiful dark eyes swelling under the weight of more tears. She raised a tissue, dabbing at the makeup stains as she spoke with broken words.
'She sent me a message saying she was on the bus. Honestly...that girl never gave up the night bus. She was frugal...and...and...'
'Take your time,' Bermuda said comfortingly, leaning forward on his chair.
'She was almost home and she said she really needed the toilet. Then that was it. I got worried after about half an hour, as it is not far from the bus stop.'
Bermuda Jones Casefiles Box Set Page 13
