“For now, Jack, yes.”
“Have you changed your mind about helping me?”
Knowles was silent for so long that Jack thought he wouldn't answer. “Yes. You're dangerous. I didn't think you were, but now I'm not sure. Bryant has changed things for you. I don't trust you. You’re a dangerous man, possibly the most dangerous I have ever met.”
3
Knowles left the makeshift prison, a sick feeling in his stomach. The look on Jack’s face as he left haunted him. Throughout his army career, Knowles had been told to be honest. The truth is the only way to deal with people, particularly when you are going to be in life-threatening situations with them. Jack was dangerous, that much was clear, but was telling him the right thing to do? Would it make him more dangerous? More volatile?
Knowles wasn't sure, but he also didn't know how Raymond would respond now. Raymond had a ruthless streak - would he order Jack killed? Knowles grimaced and ran his hand through his hair. This is a mess.
He stepped into the sunlight and squinted. Around him things were returning to normal. Soldiers were completing PT on the ruined grass; mechanics were working on the vehicles; others were patrolling the fence line. It looked like a normal day on an army base, but it was as far from that - to Knowles' eyes, at least - as possible.
Knowles nodded hello at a small group who marched past him, and then realised his phone was ringing. Unknown caller loomed large on the display.
“Hello?” he said, clicking receive.
“You missed,” said a familiar voice. Then the line went dead.
Knowles swore loudly, drawing looks from the men and women nearest him. He turned and ran to Raymond’s office.
4
“Where is he?” Raymond roared.
“I don't know, sir,” Knowles said. “I've given my phone to the tech team and they are trying to trace it.”
Raymond nodded.
“The phone doesn't need to be in use to be traced,” Knowles said.
“I'm not an idiot, Knowles,” Raymond said. “I'm more interested in why he rang. Why let us know he’s alive?”
“He was always alive, sir,” Knowles said.
“Which makes your actions earlier all the more mystifying. You are assuming that a direct hit from a hellfire wouldn't kill him?” Knowles didn't answer so Raymond pressed on. “In which case, why fire them?”
“I took out the threat from his followers,” Knowles said, “and tried to incapacitate him so we could get him in custody.”
“Right,” Raymond had a grim smile on his face that Knowles had never seen before. “Bryant has removed all doubt in the matter that he is alive. It would have taken days to check that rubble. It doesn't make sense for him to make this easy for us. I don't like this, we don't know enough about our enemy.”
Knowles could see where this was going.
“I want to know what’s going on,” Raymond said. “I want Stadler cut open.”
5
Knowles lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. It was dark now, but he'd been lying on his bed for hours, not sleeping. Raymond’s words were deeply troubling. Jack was a civilian, and despite what Knowles thought, a man who was stuck trying to do the right thing. It wasn't Jack’s fault that Bryant had turned into a homicidal maniac. It wasn't Jack’s fault that so many were dead. Apart from that doctor and those thugs in Barnstaple.
So, Jack wasn't entirely blameless, but this recent turn of events was definitely not his fault. The dead were Bryant’s responsibility and his alone. He should be strapped to a table tomorrow and cut open. He should be held to account for his actions.
Knowles turned over, yet again, but could not get comfortable. They had traced the phone call made by Bryant. They found the phone lying on the ground on the edge of the M20 – clearly tossed out of a moving vehicle. The road snaked through the middle of Kent: M25 and London one way, the coast and Dover the other. Bryant could be anywhere. The ports were on high alert, as were the airports, but Knowles didn't think it would matter. Bryant would not leave the country, or at least not yet. Whatever was happening between him and Jack was not over. Jack remained the best person to find Bryant, he was sure of it.
Knowles mulled over the two encounters between the men. Despite the fact that one had been over the phone, the outcome was catastrophic. Jack had lost control. That had not happened for months, even with Callum and the events of that final, horrendous day on the old base. Was it possible that the Originals couldn't exist together? Was that why they had died out? Did they all lead their own little tribes of wolf things, carving out their own patch?
If that was the case, then how big a 'patch' did they have? With Jack in Kent, did that mean Bryant had to go elsewhere? Essex? Surrey? Further? And if the patch covered the whole of the UK? What then? Would Bryant come looking for Jack? The man's actions so far would suggest this.
The more he thought about it, the more cutting Jack open seemed a bad idea. If Jack were free, maybe he and Bryant would be naturally drawn to each other. Maybe. They could attack each other, maybe solve the problem for us.
Raymond needed to hear this. Knowles dressed quickly and left his room. He jogged through the barracks and out into the cool night air. The stars were out in force above him, but still only a fraction of what could be seen in Devon. Knowles jogged to Raymond’s office, but he could see the lights were out. A solitary soldier marched past. It was Patel.
“Any idea where Major Raymond is?” Knowles asked. Patel shook his head.
“Gone home I think, sergeant.” Patel turned and continued to march across the green, heading for the barracks.
Knowles swore softly to himself. Raymond would return in the morning, but that would be too late for Jack. Without realising he was doing it, Knowles walked to the block where they were holding Jack.
A plan was beginning to form.
6
Knowles walked past Jack’s cell and down another flight of stairs to the rooms being used as a makeshift hospital. A guard stood outside the double doors that led through to the rest of the wing. The guard nodded at Knowles as he walked in. He was surprised to see it was Evans.
“What are you doing here?”
“Watching, waiting,” Evans said.
“You served together right?”
Evans nodded. “I’ve known him for years. We met in basic.”
“How did you get here then?”
“Bryant needed a driver. Collins volunteered me. Seemed a cushy op.”
It was Knowles’ turn to nod. Been caught out like that myself.
“They cut his leg off. The man has done two tours of Afghanistan and loses his leg in Kent.” Evans shook his head. “Makes no sense.”
Knowles had no answer for that, so he pushed through the inner doors without another word. He was now in a long corridor, with rooms leading off either side of it. Two soldiers stood flanking the last door on the right. Knowles approached carefully and greeted the two guards.
“He awake?”
“Yes,” the younger of the two men said. “He’s in a lot of pain.”
“I want to talk to him. You got a problem with that?”
The soldier shrugged. “Are you armed?”
Knowles nodded.
“Just in case,” the other man said.
“Any sign?”
Both men shook their heads.
“Maybe he’s waiting for a full moon,” Knowles said. No-one laughed. Knowles pushed the door open and entered Collins' room.
He was strapped to the bed with the same chains that Jack had broken. Another guard stood in the corner of the room, silently watching Collins. Knowles waved at him before pulling up a chair and sitting next to the bed.
“Collins,” he said.
The big man looked at him with haunted eyes. A drip fed into his arm and a small breathing tube was hooked under his nose. His leg had been cut off just above the knee.
“My foot itches.”
“You want me to scratch it, cos you
know-”
“Not that foot, sergeant. The one that’s in the bin.”
Actually in a lab, being looked at by the docs. You can't bin something like that. Knowles didn't voice the thought. He didn't think Collins would appreciate it.
“How are you feeling?”
Collins just stared at him. The tubes, pipes and beeping of the heart monitor reduced the effectiveness of the stare, but it was enough to unnerve Knowles anyway.
“Sorry,” Knowles said. “Force of habit.”
“Sorry isn't going to bring my leg back.”
“I promise you we will get Bryant,” Knowles said. Never promise anything. That was a mantra he had lived by in Afghanistan, but that was then. Modern Britain, security cameras everywhere: Bryant would be found sooner or later.
“Bryant didn't do this to me,” Collins said.
“Well, you can't kill the doctors,” Knowles said.
“No, I don't mean them. Bryant didn't bite me; it was one of the others.”
“Bryant killed Wills and Parker though, yes?”
Collins nodded.
“So, with respect, it doesn't matter. We need to get him and soon.”
“I want to see him,” Collins said.
“What?”
“When he’s brought back here - him, and anyone else you get - I want to see them.”
“They won't let you shoot them you know.”
“I want him to know, Knowles. I want him to see what he’s done.”
Knowles nodded.
“I served with him, you know, in Afghanistan. I thought we were mates.”
Knowles was beginning to get a serious case of déjà vu. It wasn't the first time the wolves had created rifts between tight people.
“So what about you? Anything happening?”
“If you mean have I turned into one of those fucking things, then no.” Collins smiled ruefully. “You don't get to shoot me after all.”
7
Knowles left Collins and stood outside Jack’s cell. “He awake?” he asked the guard, who shrugged.
Knowles tapped on the door softly and waited. No noise came from the cell.
“You can't go in there,” said the guard.
“Are you going to stop me?”
“Sir, I have orders.”
“Don't worry, son, I'm only messing with you.” Knowles grinned at the man, who visibly relaxed. “I have no intention of visiting Stadler.” He tapped the door again.
“Can I help you with something else then?”
“What time is he scheduled for the vivisection?” Knowles said.
“Nine o'clock.”
Knowles nodded. “So, they'll come to sedate him at what, about eight thirty?”
The guard nodded. “Are you going to be there?”
“This man is the reason that a lot of people are dead,” Knowles said with a grimace. “Damn right I'm going to be there.”
8
Jack heard Knowles march away from his door. He heard the soldier on guard sigh and return to his post. Having been woken by a tapping sound, he had heard the entire conversation
What is Knowles playing at?
He thinks I'm dangerous.
Knowles was not an easy man to read and was full of contradictions. Earlier he had seemed scared and wary of Jack, but now he was warning him. It was only a few weeks ago that Knowles had sneaked beer into Jack’s room. Only a few weeks ago that he'd spoken to Jack like a friend.
So much has changed.
Now, Knowles' friends were dead. One of his colleagues - Bryant - had also become an Original, apparently deliberately. Jack could not understand why anyone would do this voluntarily. The Wolf’s voice murmured away deep inside him and he ignored it. I will control you.
Jack sat up and rolled his legs so he was perched on the side of the bed. According to Knowles, he had about eight hours to figure out how to get out of this place. If he didn't, then tomorrow he would be cut into little pieces so the army could figure out how he worked. If he didn't, then Katie and Josh would never know he was still alive.
Katie.
Josh.
He had come to find Knowles as he was the one who could help him. Now that was not looking likely. If Jack wanted his family back, then he could only count on himself. He had to get out; had to let them know he was alive. Everything else could be dealt with after that.
His main problem was that he didn't have the first clue how he was going to escape.
9
Knowles lay in bed watching his clock change agonisingly slowly. Morning was now just a few hours away. Had Jack heard him? Had he done the right thing?
Thoughts went round and round in his head. Ever since his first tour to Afghanistan, Knowles had slept with headphones on: music helped him to sleep. It had not helped tonight. He was on his second full album, and would not have been able to say what he had listened to so far.
Jack is a good man.
Jack is dangerous.
He needs his family.
He needs to be killed.
Every time he felt like he had reached a resolution, the other thoughts came back countering every argument he had. The arguments in Jack’s favour were that he hadn't killed anyone in months. It was not exactly a ringing endorsement of the man.
There was also Bryant to consider. Bryant definitely was dangerous, but he too kept giving them clues to his location. Raymond was right: Bryant had not needed to let them know he was alive, so why had he? Was Bryant fighting the Wolf, like Jack had when they first met? Jack had beaten the Wolf - could Bryant?
Knowles eventually drifted off to sleep, but nothing in his head was resolved. He slept fitfully and shallowly. By the time the morning came, he still didn't know what was for the best.
It was not long before events overtook him and forced his hand.
Chapter 15
1
Bryant stared out of the window. Greenery whizzed past, broken up by lorries, cars and other vehicles travelling on the other side of the motorway. Joe was driving, focussed entirely on the road. They were keeping pace with the rest of the traffic, therefore speeding, but not by enough to gather attention from the police. Henry was in the back with Bryant, staring out of the other window. He hadn't said a word the whole time Bryant had known him.
Jenny was in the front, ignoring Bryant but not really talking to Joe either. The whole car was heavy with an atmosphere of mistrust and depression.
I am a monster.
No.
I have killed so many people.
Yes, but that was before you met me.
That was war.
Keep telling yourself that. We both know different.
Bryant shook his head, trying to clear it. The beast was getting stronger, taking control.
Joe started to indicate, and minutes later they were parked outside a service station. Bryant climbed out of the car and surveyed his surroundings. Service stations all looked the same: concrete nightmares with a tiny bit of grass. A dog walked forlornly around this patch now, but it was hard to tell who looked the most disgusted: the owner or the dog. A large building squatted at the end of the car park, a sign outside advertising the pleasures held within: a Costa Coffee; a M&S food hall; a Moto cafe and a WH Smith. This place wasn't even good enough to warrant a KFC. What a shithole.
“This way,” Jenny said, heading towards the building. She had not mentioned the events of the previous night. The way she moved her arse as she walked away from him could have been taken as a sign of forgiveness. He watched her for a moment and didn't notice Joe next to him until he spoke.
“Yes,” he said. He nodded at Jenny’s retreating back, also admiring the way she moved. “Good work.”
“Pretty sure she doesn't think that about me,” Bryant said.
Joe shrugged. “She made us come back for you. You must have done something right.”
“Did she say anything about last night?”
Joe shook his head. “Listen, Carl was an arsehole
. He was a religious nut, obsessed with the Originals.” He shrugged. “Not my bag really. Me and Henry were waiting for a chance to bug out when this all kicked off.”
“What do you know of the Originals?”
“Same as everyone else. Nothing.” Joe could see Bryant wanted more. “Seriously, nothing. Until Stadler and you, no-one even believed in them. There was talk of one in Germany, but that turned out to be bollocks.”
“So how did you find me?”
Joe shrugged again. “We all knew. I can’t explain it. It was like a light had gone on and there you were by the switch.”
Joe looked up and saw Jenny standing by the entrance to the building. He started to follow her, then paused as if he had forgotten something. Joe turned back to the car, opened the door and gently coaxed his brother out. Henry shuffled alongside him, not looking up and letting himself be guided by Joe’s arm on his shoulder.
We are a right state. Bryant set off after them, worried about what the others would think when they walked in.
2
The Moto cafe was open plan and noisy. Despite the early hour, it was also packed. Everywhere he looked, Bryant could see groups of people staring at him. Dotted around these groups, sitting at various tables were families where harassed parents were trying to keep their children calm. The families were oblivious to the groups around them, all wrapped up in their domestic hell. Yet, judging by the speed they were eating, at least two of the families knew something was up.
Jenny was talking to a heavy set man who was stood next to a large group of people seated at a table. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt, looking like a man about to go on holiday. He stared at Bryant throughout the conversation with Jenny.
“That’s Michael Smith,” Joe said. “He used to live with Jenny. Be careful.”
Great.
“What happened?”
“As far as I know, he made Jenny.” Joe shrugged. “He killed some people, so he had to leave.”
“You've killed people, Joe.”
Another shrug. “Guess I'm more careful.”
Jenny beckoned them over. Now all six pairs of eyes at the table were on them. Three women were all different sizes, with one looking like she was carrying at least four extra stone. The smallest looked like she would snap in a stiff breeze. The men were all about the same size, all wiry but none looked like a challenge. This is why Michael is in charge.
The Original's Return (Book 2): The Original's Retribution Page 11
