The police officer who had attacked her father walked over and offered his hand to Joel. The man she’d considered her friend accepted the officer’s hand and stood by his side, staring down at her.
“Thanks, Officer,” Joel said uncertainly. He pulled a small remote from his pocket and inspected it. “When I hit the emergency button, I didn’t exactly know what to expect—or who.”
The police officer broke into a grin. “Officer Crabtree, sir!” he said gruffly.
Joel scoffed. “Manchester man?” he asked, noticing the thick accent.
The police officer nodded. He was obviously proud of his city. “Yes, sir!” His stomach stuck out dramatically, even with the man trying to suck it in behind the uniform shirt that was ready to burst at the buttons.
Joel once again looked down at Lena and Sergeant Turner. The two special agents sprawled helplessly on the floor. “I worked with them for too many years,” he told the police officer.
“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re on our side now.” Officer Crabtree scuttled over to the werewolf. It was the first time he’d seen one of the hairy monsters with his own two eyes. “It’s much bigger than I thought!” he exclaimed, prodding the werewolf with his foot.
Joel grunted. “Come on, Crabtree. We got work to do.”
The police officer stood to a lousy attention before reaching down to the sergeant. He tried to pull the sergeant, but the man didn’t move an inch. Joel could see Crabtree’s shirt about to burst open.
“Uh, Pearson?” he said nervously. “I can’t pull him on me own!” he exclaimed.
“Of course, you can’t!” Joel exclaimed, looking at the man from Manchester. “Let me guess… Desk job at the station? A few too many donuts over the years?”
Officer Crabtree gasped. “I’m just trying to be helpful. It isn’t me fault I weigh nineteen stones!”
Joel scoffed. “So, are you telling me that all the world’s donuts just accidentally fell into your open mouth?” He’d become quite annoyed with the fat man in the short time he’d known him.
The police officer did not reply.
“Come on,” Joel said swiftly, leaning down towards Lena. “We have to get these two.” He pointed at Lena and then her father. “Oh, and that one.” He thrust his thumb in Harrison’s direction.
Joel grabbed Lena’s hands and dragged her towards the side door. They needed to move quickly before the other wolves came in. He had no idea how they would pull everything off if his only partner was a man who couldn’t even take a breath without needing a snack break.
Chapter Nine
Darkness.
Lena forced her eyelids open but immediately squinted as she discovered light filled the room. For a moment, she was back in Afghanistan. The smell of sand, the murmur of voices, and the thick ropes around her arms invaded her mind and controlled her senses. She blinked several times to adjust her eyes, letting the room come into full view.
“What?” she forced the word out with a small cough. Her voice felt strained from disuse—as if she’d been asleep for far longer than she would have been for a normal night’s rest. “What is going on?” she asked.
In front of her was Officer Crabtree, his large, flabby form filling the space in front of the window. Lena squinted, trying to make sense of the police officer. She tried to make sense of whatever had happened.
Officer Crabtree stood taller after hearing Lena’s voice. “Oh, fuck. She’s awake!” he said, shuffling his feet hastily so he could go tell Joel that his prisoners were awake. He’d volunteered to watch over them until they regained consciousness, but his orders were to report any changes as soon as they happened.
Crabtree felt a sense of power from being a part of the plan. He had always been behind the scenes but being in 10 Downing Street meant he was in the front. It meant he had done something good.
***
Harrison sat across from Lena. After he was knocked unconscious, his body had shifted back to normal. Within moments of waking, he noticed he had no shirt on, and his pants were excessively large on him. They’d tied ropes tightly across his chest, and he had no hope of breaking them. He wriggled and squirmed, but the ropes pulled tighter across his chest.
“There is no point!” a sly voice said from behind them.
Sergeant Turner jerked awake at the sound of the voice. The confused sergeant gasped as his eyes shot open. He looked hastily at the restraints. The coarse, thick rope was coiled tightly around his wrists and chest. The material cut at his skin as he fought to break free.
“Where am I?” he said through gritted teeth as he struggled. “What the hell is going on? Why am I here?”
Officer Crabtree snorted. He found it amusing to watch the sergeant struggle. He felt awkward sitting on the window ledge in his boxers. Earlier, the officer had to loan his pants to the werewolf. While it had been inconvenient, the draft that came from the window felt perfect.
Sergeant Turner pushed and fought more with the ropes.
The other person in the room had yet to reveal himself, but he had no issues laughing and alerting them of his presence. “I have already told you, Sergeant Terry Turner. There is no point.” He paused. “Stop trying to break free. No one can break those ropes.”
Sergeant Turner gritted his teeth. “You clearly don’t know me well. I’m not about to let you or anyone else tell me what I can or cannot do,” He breathed heavily as he fought his restraints again. “No one can break them, huh? I’ll be the first, just you watch!”
Lena watched her father as he struggled against the ropes. She knew it was no use trying to break free, but she admired her father for it, anyway. “Who are you?” she barked into the room, hoping to get an answer from the mysterious voice.
The police officer in front of the window smiled. She thought he looked rather excited about something. “Oh, just you wait and see!” he said with a chuckle in his thick accent.
“You want to see me, Lena?” the voice boomed. “Good. I’ll show you.” The figure emerged from the darkened corner slowly, and Lena gasped.
At first, she thought she was seeing things. She blinked the fatigue in her eyes away, forcing her brain to focus. She looked back at the figure standing a few feet away. It was true, but it made little sense. Her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. A traitor stood in front of her, smiling with his arms extended.
“Joel?” Sergeant Turner breathed sadly. His friend had played him all along. “Of course, it’s you.” He sighed as he stopped fighting the ropes. “I should have known. Looking back, I can see all the signs. Your behavior… I was just blinded by our friendship. Too blinded to see what you really were.”
Lena raised her eyebrows. This couldn’t be happening. “Joel, what is going on? Why would you do this to us?”
She remembered back to the moments just before she went unconscious. The memories had come back in broken pieces that made no sense, but now that she knew Joel was behind it, she found clarity.
He’d seen her go down, but he’d done nothing to help her. He’d spoken to the cop who took down her father like they knew one another. Then she remembered the syringe. She remembered it in Joel’s hand, but the image was faint. That was just before she’d passed out completely.
Joel boomed with laughter. He’d waited for that very moment for a long time. “Seriously?” he asked, standing in front of Lena.
Lena hung her head slightly. Asking him anything at all had been rather pointless and possibly stupid on her part, but she needed to know the truth from him. Truth was the only peace she could hope to find for her mind, because losing a long-time friend sure as hell threw her for a loop.
Joel shrugged. “Fine, Lena Turner. I’ll tell you. It’s no big deal to me.” He crouched, so they were face to face.
“Why the honest fuck does each one of you sniveling little prats use full names?” Harrison spat. “Oh, and captain cream cheese, your ass isn’t a nice sight to look at. If you don’t mind, please move it.” He nodded towards Joel’
s backside.
Joel stood, turning to face Harrison. “Hmm, you can talk, werewolf man.” He smiled. “Harrison Milton Traynor. We know everything here at H.I.V.E.” He smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.
“Ouch, had to mention my middle name, didn’t you?” Harrison responded in a monotone voice.
Joel snorted, unamused, before turning back to look at Lena. “Anyway, Lena Turner.” He returned his focus back to Lena. “I have someone who’s been waiting for you.”
The door opened quickly, and a man in a tight suit appeared. He motioned for someone to come forward. Mrs. Owens stepped carefully into the room, her short-heeled shoes clicking lightly on the tiled floor. She had her hair pulled back into a tight bun, and strands of hair bounced as she walked. Her face was tired, but she kept herself together, holding her head high.
“Mrs. Owens!” Lena exclaimed, relieved to see her.
Joel chuckled. “Lena Turner, you, as a member of the Special Forces of the United Kingdom, swore a solemn oath to uphold and honor the law as decreed by this great nation. Also, to protect and serve the prime minister under all conditions, costs, and situations.” He looked at Lena slyly.
Lena bit her lip. His words made her angry. She knew the oath she had taken to protect the prime minister, and she knew she had failed. Joel lathered the guilt on thickly, and her heart felt heavy while hearing him discuss her shortcomings with such happiness. She’d considered him a friend, and that only made the situation worse.
“You, Lena, have failed.” He sneered.
Mrs. Owens’ face remained unchanged. “She has done no such thing.”
Joel whipped around, smacking his hand across her face. “You will remain silent!” His voice filled with such rage—something Lena had never known him capable of.
Mrs. Owens smiled softly. She wouldn’t let Joel get the best of her. She was the head of state. She represented the UK, and she wouldn’t let her country down.
Joel cleared his throat before returning his attention back to Lena and Sergeant Turner. “It is time to rid the world of waste.” He stepped closer as he spoke. “It’s time for us to rise. Do you understand?”
Harrison rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. Another Adolf Hitler wannabe,” he muttered. “Just what we need around here, a raving lunatic who wants the perfect race!” He spoke more to himself than anyone else, but he didn’t care if the rest of them heard.
Joel shot a glance at Harrison. He obviously found the werewolf annoying. “Do you mind?” he spat harshly. “I can do without your pointless comments.” He breathed heavily. “I’m not like Hitler. I’m so much better than him, and I don’t have that ridiculous brush mustache.”
Sergeant Turner sniffed. “I can’t even tell the difference. You have the same egomaniacal attitude he did. It doesn’t matter if you have the mustache.” He still felt foolish for not realizing one of his most trusted friends was a spy all along.
Harrison stared at Joel. “I guess I could probably try to keep my mouth shut, but I’m morally obligated not to. You see, unlike you, I swore an oath to common sense. I’m duty bound to tell an idiot when he’s being a dumbass fascist.” He spoke with an even tone.
Lena snorted as Harrison pulled Joel’s chain. The werewolf had balls, certainly more than she had right then.
“I want to rid the world of filth like this scumbag!” Joel almost yelled.
Lena kept a steady gaze on Joel. He was usually an easygoing man. He had a fiery temper when he got angry, but that rarely happened, and she’d never seen him like this. Joel had been her boss for a long time. She had trusted him, and they had fought side by side to protect Mrs. Owens.
“I’m here to make a better world,” he said. At that moment, his voice wasn’t as angry. There was an oddly peaceful tone to it. “I’m here to do what I swore to do when I took the oath to protect that woman.” He shoved his finger towards Mrs. Owens.
Lena shuffled in her seat. “You’re doing the opposite of that, Joel! You swore to uphold the laws of this country. I don’t know if you noticed, but being a goddamn traitor isn’t part of the law!” she shouted, her anger at Joel rising.
Joel stood over her, his breathing labored. “Shut up! I’m doing the right thing. I’m ridding this damn planet of its rotten filth.” He paused. “Asher Brannick himself gave me an important mission, and he has instructed me to control this area. We have the prime minister.” He smiled to himself.
“Mrs. Owens,” Lena corrected sharply.
Mrs. Owens perked up at her name. She shifted back and forth, wincing the slightest bit as the weight changed from one foot to the other. It was obvious her shoes were hurting her, but it was just as obvious that bothered her more than the situation she was in. She was tough as nails, and Lena respected her for it.
The prime minister gave a small smile. Lena’s eyes caught the sadness in it, something Joel probably wouldn’t have noticed, especially with his current state of mind. She wondered if Mrs. Owens had lost hope. Lena hadn’t—not yet—and she didn’t want her charge to do so either.
“What?” Joel demanded.
Lena smiled softly. He’d forgotten the very scolding he’d given her earlier. “Mrs. Owens is the prime minister,” she continued bravely. “We were asked to use her name. Someone I trusted once told me that.” She maintained her gaze with Joel.
Joel stopped where he was. “Forget the stupid details. We have all the power. We have control over the media, which means we control the nation. We have the queen, and she’s the head of state. We have Mrs. Owens, the ruling authority of this little nation.” He spoke heavily, anger and hate dripping over every word.
Lena tapped the armrest of her chair. The rough rope was less itchy against her skin when she moved her hands slightly, though she knew it would be much worse if she moved them too much. “Go on,” she said flatly, needing to keep him talking while she figured out a way to escape.
Joel beamed. “Finally, someone is listening!” he said triumphantly. “Lena Turner, we need strong members for our force.”
Harrison wriggled uncomfortably as Joel tried to recruit her to the bad side. “Oh, Joel Pearson, there is no hope for what you are trying to do!” he mocked, mimicking Joel’s voice.
Joel showed no reaction in his expression. “Harrison Traynor, regarding an earlier question of yours… If you must know, it was my idea to use full names,” he said without even looking at Harrison.
“Great. Good to know.”
Joel chuckled, seemingly enjoying the power he held over his prisoners. “It was a tactic we used in military operations. We used their full names, so they confessed easier. Using someone’s full name intimidates them into a confession.” He turned and stared down his nose at Harrison.
Harrison tried to shrug, but the ropes restricted him. “I have nothing to confess.” Everyone knew his secrets.
Joel snorted. “We all have our secrets,” he said slowly.
Sergeant Turner snapped. He couldn’t take listening to the man he’d once called friend anymore. “Yeah, like being a goddam traitor for years and fooling good people! You prick.” He spat at Joel. The sight of him made the sergeant even angrier. He shook his head and averted his eyes for a moment.
Joel turned slowly to look at the sergeant who quickly met his gaze. “I would feel bad, but this is worth more than what I was doing. This is for the future. We’re doing this to bring hope and love to the entire planet. We’re wiping the slate clean!”
“Joel,” Lena said loudly. Somehow, she needed to get through to him. This psychotic idea had been passed down to him. It wasn’t his all on his own. He’d been blinded, and she wanted to make him see that. At the moment, the things he considered good deeds only distracted him. She needed to break his concentration. “Joel, focus. Tell me, why the hell do you need more members? What is this—the Adolf Hitler fan club?”
He focused back on Lena. “You were always the best of the best. You would have been perfect for our elite team. You got to go for com
bat training in America, and you got to escort the fucking prime minister—Mrs. Owens—on her tour of the country. You were always the greatest.” He paused and smiled down at her. “You would have been perfect for this,” he repeated.
“Saying the same thing over and over won’t change anything!” she snapped, waving her hands around in their restraints. “Also, I like the rope restraints. Real hipster of you, Joel fucking Pearson.”
“HEY, Joel Person, can you get the fuck away from my friend?” Harrison called out as the traitor stepped closer to Lena, a dangerous look in his eye.
Joel had leaned in closer to Lena, but Harrison’s comment stopped him cold. He bolted upright, turning around quickly to face the werewolf tied to the chair. “Oh, fuck off!” he spat at Harrison before turning back to Lena. “I can see you’re a werewolf, you and your boyfriend here,” he said, gesturing back at Harrison.
Lena didn’t say a word.
“A werewolf? Really, Lena? You should have been a vampire. Maybe sparkled a little in the sun—that sort of thing,” he mocked, looking from one prisoner to the other.
Lena’s eyes wandered over to Harrison. Even from where she sat, she could see how red his wrists were from the rough ropes. “It would have been fun to see the mighty Terry Turner sparkle, too.” He laughed heartily at the thought. The man seemed rather deranged to those who once considered him a friend, but he didn’t seem to notice as he continued. “Do you remember the Christmas party three years ago? We drank so much that we ended up on the rooftop. The streetlights looked like glitter because of how wasted we were. The lights twinkled.”
Sergeant Turner nodded. “I remember you told me it was easy to feel alone in the universe when the streetlights outshone the stars in the night sky,” he said, remembering the party all too well.
Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3 Page 8
