‘Not yet.’ The voice broke his concentration, the pain returning. The hand gently soothed his face. ‘We are so close.’
‘But I did what you asked.’ He looked to the altar that sat in the middle of the tomb, the bloodstained heart of Mika resting in the centre. ‘I brought you the heart. Same as before.’
The voice soothed him, gently shushing away his concerns. ‘One more.’ The voice was almost pure, gentle and soft. ‘For tonight, we will take him. My men have followed his every move, and tonight we will manoeuvre him to where we need him. He will kneel before me, right where you are now, and will surrender.’
‘Who?’ Parker’s voice rose with worry, his understanding of the agreement slowly disappearing like a sandcastle in a rising tide.
‘The one who walks in both worlds.’ The words slithered through gritted teeth, laced with menace.
Parker nodded, pretending to understand. All he needed was to see her again. He didn’t care why.
‘How many more do you desire?’ he asked the shadows, the hand tightening its grip on his shoulder. He felt the darkness of another world pulling him back; the name Caleb filtered through his mind and was instantly dismissed.
He thought of her.
Only her.
‘One more.’ The response made him sit up straight. ‘Bring me one more and let that be the end of it. Either we will return what was taken or end it completely.’
‘You promised.’ His words were feeble.
He felt the face of his captor drop down to his ear level.
‘We will see, after I have spilt the blood of the one we have come for.’
And with that, the fingers left his shoulder, and within moments Parker was surrounded by nothing but cold concrete and curtains of shadow. The rain hammered the outside of the tomb, echoing through the stone structure like chattering teeth. Tonight, one more woman would have to die.
One more heart would have to be stolen.
He slowly closed his eyes, dreaming fondly of what they would do when they took what they came for.
The death of Bermuda Jones.
For the first time in decades, Kevin Parker slept soundly, knowing it was time for his final collection.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bermuda sat at a small table at the back of Costa, watching as the first few customer filtered in, all of them yawning and with heavy bags under their eyes – the price to pay for having intense jobs. As he sipped his latte, he waited impatiently for McAllister to message him back.
The very thought of her caused him to tense up with frustration. She believed him, he knew she did. But obviously toeing the line was more important than the truth, and he found himself respecting her less. She had been through hell outside of the police force, so she was always going to look for the easier path at work.
But she knew the truth.
Ignoring it would just lead to more hearts being ripped out and more women being killed.
Bermuda knocked back the last of his coffee, his body screaming for the caffeine after his half-five start. The world was still enveloped in darkness, the sun a long way off from waking. Bermuda left the coffee shop and headed back out into the cold, the wind whistling through the narrow streets. Luckily the rain had died down, but the temperature still clung to him like a frozen koala.
Argyle had headed straight to the BTCO HQ, which was where Bermuda was headed to now. Furious after McAllister’s rejection and his confrontation with Butler, Bermuda had needed to be alone. To gather his thoughts and to grab a coffee. Without question, Argyle had stepped away, as loyal as ever.
What would Bermuda do without him?
With his hands stuffed in his pockets, Bermuda walked down the high street, the streetlights reflecting off the shutters that covered the front of every shop. A few early birds wondered through, wearing expensive suits that their long-houred, highly paid jobs dictated they wore. A few homeless people lay huddled in the front doorway of a River Island, straining for warmth and begging for a better tomorrow.
An Other strolled past on the other side of the street, refusing to allow its black eyes to meet Bermuda’s.
They all knew who he was.
The Other broke into a faster stride as soon as it passed Bermuda before joining a shadow and merging with it.
Bermuda was only interested in one creature.
Kevin Parker.
As he approached the damp boards that acted as the front door to his office, he thought back to that night. The loathing in Parker’s voice.
The desperation.
Bermuda descended the large steps, going deeper underground and into the secrecy of the BTCO, consumed with the thought of finding Parker and catching him.
Of saving the next young woman who he would slaughter.
The office was dark and empty as he walked in, the old school desk lifeless and covered in dust. He slid his hat off his head, his hair spiking up like a pineapple. Argyle would undoubtedly be in his chambers; Bermuda smirked at the idea of him sleeping upside down like some sort of vampire bat. He closed his eyes, appreciating the warmth and the silence of the BTCO office. The isolation was welcoming, the loneliness for once sliding around him like a loving hug.
He opened his eyes and saw the bespectacled eyes of Kelly McDonald staring back at him.
He jumped back, cursing under his breath. She smiled a smile of pure adulation.
‘Hello, Bermuda.’ Her words were thick and Glaswegian. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ He wrestled his heartbeat back to normal. ‘Why are you here so early?’
‘Someone has to water the plants.’
Bermuda shook his head in amazement as the small, tweed-wearing ball of chaos disappeared amongst the desks, not a plant in sight. He found a quiet corner of the office and checked the PCs on the surrounding desks; the bulky white machines were a decade out of time. He blew away the dust and booted one to life, the components within screaming in pain as they were called to action for the first time in eternity.
The heavy screen burst into life, the Windows Vista logo proudly displayed despite its expiration. Bermuda almost felt guilty for the state of the office compared to the one underneath the Shard, with technology only seen in a Philip K Dick novel. However, for all the advanced computers and nude blue creatures tracking other monsters, the BTCO HQ back in London didn’t have a tornado of tweed jackets, woollen jumpers, and nailed-on spinsterhood quite like Kelly McDonald.
Bermuda provided her with a knee-weakening smile as she placed a cup of tea down, her hero-worshipping causing her to walk away backwards to maintain eye contact. When she had finally disappeared, he logged into his terminal and was instantly confronted by a demand from the one thing the BTCO HQ in London did have.
Montgomery Black.
A barrage of emails flooded Bermuda’s inbox, all of them finding new and colourful ways to tell him he had ruined the case and was relieved of duty. The final one, a video recording of the furious Scotsman, demanded Bermuda return to London immediately, and that he was more than likely going to be relieved of his duty, especially now that Ottoway looked unlikely to resume control.
That hit Bermuda hard.
Throughout the years as a BTCO agent and through the acceptance of his curse, Bermuda had two people he had relied upon. One of them strapped a sword to his spine and followed him into the darkness.
The other sat back in the office, defending his actions and fighting his corner after every indiscretion and every broken landmark.
Ottoway had put an arm around him when the world had turned their backs.
Now he was dying. Laid up in a hospital bed with more tubes than the London Underground. Bermuda felt a sadness swell in his chest, the thought of losing one of the few people left in his life filling him with sadness.
Six months ago, Sophie Summer had walked away, her fear of his life far outweighing their growing attraction. Chloe had been broken by his failure to be there at her birthday. Not calli
ng her had just added a dot to the already painful exclamation point.
Ottoway was the closest thing he had had to a father figure, his own father nothing more than a rejected footnote that never had an input in his life.
As the thoughts swirled in his head like a vintage wine, he realised he had shed a tear. Embarrassed, he wiped it away and unlocked his phone. He thumbed through the bizarre names that formed his address book before selecting the direct line to Ottoway, hoping beyond hope that the voice at the end of the line was the welcoming one.
‘Hello.’ It was.
‘Vincent.’ Bermuda exhaled with relief. ‘It’s Bermuda.’
‘Ah, Agent Jones. We have been trying to get hold of you.’
‘I can see.’ Bermuda rolled his eyes. ‘Has Monty ever heard of spam?’
‘Spam?’
‘Never mind.’ Bermuda leant back in his chair, sipping the tea that was basically hot milk. ‘How’s Ottoway?’
‘Lord Felix is comfortable.’ Vincent’s sadness betrayed the calmness of his voice. ‘We are in the final stages of a potential cure.’
‘For cancer?’ Bermuda sat up straight. The idea of vanquishing one of the world’s greatest evils was remarkable.
‘We can but try,’ Vincent said, dampening the optimism. ‘As you know, the breakthroughs in science we have provided for your race have been substantial. Yet cancer is a different beast entirely.’
‘Speaking of beasts,’ Bermuda started dryly. ‘This Kevin Parker chap, he isn’t a normal Other.’
‘The information we are gathering from the Oracles seems to correlate this. Due to his heightened strength, ability to be seen by the human world, and Argyle’s lack of detection, they are categorising him as an Exceptional.’
Bermuda laughed. The new labelling system was too scattergun for him – he wanted to label all of them a threat and close the goddamn doorway. Yet with Ottoway laid up in bed, his life slowly being eaten by something worse than any Other, Bermuda knew why they kept it open. The Otherside would one day kill him, he knew that. Kill him and claim him.
It had already started.
But it was still Ottoway’s best chance of survival.
‘Agent Jones.’ Vincent refocused him. ‘Did you hear me?’
‘Yeah, yeah. An Exceptional or whatever it is you are calling your new project.’
‘That is exactly what we are calling it.’ Vincent spoke almost as matter-of-factly as Argyle. ‘You are to return to London immediately under orders of Montgomery Black, and in no way are you to engage with Kevin Parker until we can develop a greater understanding of his powers.’
Suddenly, a door slammed on the other end of the phone and Bermuda could hear a rustling sound, like somebody wrapping the phone in a paper bag. After a while, the volume of the call got louder. Another voice told him he was now on speaker phone.
And in a hell of a lot of trouble.
‘Jones, you are to come back to London right now, do you hear me!’ Bermuda could almost hear the veins straining against Black’s forehead.
‘Hello, Monty.’
‘Shut up.’ Venom spat from his lips. ‘You just shut your mouth. Not only have you disobeyed direct orders from your acting commander, but you have also brought the entire investigation into disarray. In fact, I’ve had Detective Chief Inspector Fowler, someone I admire very much, call me and demand I remove you from the goddamn case.’
‘Based on what I have seen so far, I wouldn’t go on any decision made by a member of Glaswegian Police Service.’
‘Just shut up!’ Black snapped. ‘You assaulted a detective at a crime scene.’
‘To be fair, he swung at me first.’
Vincent interjected. ‘Argyle has corroborated that fact, and Jones is a trained agent. Self-defence is necessary.’
‘So you could say I was just doing as trained, right?’ Bermuda cursed himself for antagonising.
‘Trained? What you have done, Jones, is discuss the Otherside with a detective who has pushed the idea higher. Not only has it been laughed out of the door and put her career in jeopardy, you have actively gone against one of the fundamental rules that we abide by here at the BTCO.’
‘Oh, fuck your rules.’
A collective gasp echoed down the phone. Kelly McDonald rose from behind a partition, her mouth wide open, a look of pure horror across her face. Bermuda felt every muscle in his body tense. Silence.
‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ Black finally uttered, astounded by the offence.
‘You know what? In case you haven’t realised, this thing is killing. Every day. Without fail. Innocent women are dying. Now we know what the fuck is going on, but that doesn’t mean we keep it to ourselves. Now if I get laughed out of every damn room, if I get swung at by every fucking inept detective, then so be it. I am not going to stop hunting this bastard until I bring him to his fucking knees.
‘So you can fire me, you can threaten me, whatever. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere until I stop Kevin Parker.’ Bermuda stood, his hand on his hip. ‘You got a problem with that, Monty, then you know where I am.’
Bermuda ended the call amidst Black’s threats of coming to Glasgow immediately and tossed the phone down onto the desk. He looked at Kelly, who slowly slunk into her seat, her fears of meeting her hero clearly solidified. With a deep sigh, he slid his hand to his back pocket and retrieved the small leather wallet, his BTCO Agency card securely fastened behind the clear plastic.
He placed it on the table alongside his phone.
The gentle clicking of a keyboard was the only sound in the room and Bermuda decided against an awkward goodbye. With purposeful steps, he strode through the giant steel doors and up the steep, dark stairwell for the final time. As he emerged through the reality-shattering door, the rain hit him hard.
The next few words hit him harder.
‘I don’t want you to go.’
Bermuda’s mouth pulled into a thin line and he turned, shielding his face from the hard downfall. Argyle stood to the side of the door, his arms folded across the armour plate. His eyes, piercing and pupilless, stared at Bermuda with hope.
‘I’m sorry, Big Guy.’ Bermuda shrugged. ‘But I can’t just turn my back on this and go home. It’s not an option.’
‘We have strict orders …’ Argyle began.
‘To hell with the orders,’ Bermuda interrupted, immediately regretting it. ‘Look, Argyle, I know you are a soldier and you were drilled from whatever age to be this well-oiled machine. But there are times when the orders shouldn’t be followed.’
Argyle’s brow furrowed. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to, buddy.’ Bermuda let out a deep sigh, the pain of the goodbye coiling around his heart like an anaconda. ‘My whole life, I have been scared of this other world and what was waiting for me in the shadows. I have hated this curse, no matter how many times I have tried to accept it. It has brought me nothing but pain. Except you.’
‘I was assigned to you by Lord Ottoway,’ Argyle said with the clarity of a football commentator.
‘I know. You have been the best friend I could have asked for, and you have saved my arse more times than I care to remember. But I can’t walk away from this, Argyle. I just can’t. I have to stop him.’
Argyle stood silently, casting his eyes back to the entrance of the BTCO Headquarters and the only life he had ever known on this side of the divide.
‘It has been an honour to serve by your side.’ Argyle stood proudly, resting his fist across his chest in a sign of respect. ‘And a pleasure to call you my friend.’
Bermuda felt tears slowly welling behind his eyes, but puffed his chest out and offered the same salute to his partner. They nodded their final respect.
‘Take care of yourself.’
Bermuda’s final words hung in the following silence, the rain clattering the short distance between the two of them. As the conversation ended, Bermuda turned and headed back towards the town, his h
ands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. Argyle watched his partner walk away, a pathway he could not follow.
They had their orders.
Argyle turned slowly and headed back to the secret office below the bustling city, trying his best to maintain his formidable composure. A sadness swept through his body, a feeling that was both overpowering and alien. The BTCO had been his saviour, pulling him from the Otherside and protecting him from all the horrors that would surely await him should he ever return. Bermuda had been assigned to him after what had happened.
Argyle had saved him more than he knew.
But the sadness Argyle felt was for the fading essence of Bermuda in his senses. He knew Bermuda was connected to his world, and like his own kind, he could sense his partner.
That feeling was fading.
The case, like their partnership, had come to an end, and he was to return alone.
There was no essence of Otherside on the street anymore. Only the rain.
Bermuda had gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The afternoon was brisk, with a dark cloud painting itself across the skyline. The darkness it cast loomed heavy over the Necropolis as Bermuda felt the mud squelch beneath his Converse. Whatever colour they were before, they were mud brown from now on. Inching his way between gravestones, he ascended to the top of the hill, the broken stone of the tomb the cherry on a depressing, muddy cake.
It was empty.
Frustrated at his lack of availability, Bermuda called for Tobias, his words dancing their way to oblivion on the howling wind. Leaves spun up off the ground, swirling through the dark graveyard and clattering the monuments to the dead. Bermuda entered the tomb, shuddering as he looked at the wall that Kevin Parker had sent him crashing into.
The large platform in the centre of the room smelt damp, with flecks of dried blood scattered across the surface. The edges of the wall still showed the finger scrapings of a madman.
Or a captive?
Bermuda called out to Tobias again, immediately scorning himself for thinking he was hidden in one of the small coves within. Maybe he should have brought Argyle with him. The posh old groundsman was keen to meet his partner. Bermuda slid his notepad out and flipped it open, fanning the pages of crude notes until the day he met Tobias.
Bermuda Jones Casefiles Box Set Page 56
