The Duals (An Urban Fantasy Thriller)

by Karen Hayes

  "We've saved them," she mumbles. "But it's not Adam, I assure you. He can't have known! He's too..."

  I feel a rather inopportune pang of jealousy. "He's too correct to order something like that, is that it? Oh yes, sure. Adam is a good boss who just happens to hire antisocial types like Greene and Heaven! Do give me a break."

  "Please don't say that. He can't have known about the children. He didn't order the house be burned down. It's Greene. He's a nutcase, as you say..."

  "So you don't believe me, do you?" I say. "Very well. Let's go back to Hermetis, then. We'll soon know the truth."

  "I'm going to talk to Adam," she says. "He'll tell me."

  She removes my hand from her shoulder.

  We walk back along alternate streets, keeping to the shadows and listening intently for the sound of police sirens.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sarah

  I SEEM to be cursed. Every time I go out, something bad happens. Not just to me but to those around me too.

  I always thought Greene and Heaven were okay. They weren't exactly harmless, if you know what I mean, but they seemed normal. At least as normal as duals can be. Not pyromaniacs; definitely not murderers!

  But apparently, you never know. What kind of person would have left a father and two children to be burned alive in their own home? The sheer thought makes me sick.

  The elevator ride seems to take forever. I bite my lip. I'd love to just pack my things and get the hell out of here but that just isn't correct. I have no right to try to save my own backside, leaving Adam alone with his so-called workers who are in fact unscrupulous bastards. They betrayed him. Chris seems to think that everyone in Hermetis is a lying scoundrel. Now which one of us is paranoid, after all?

  Chris is jealous, as simple as that. He's a real dog in the manger. He's not at all interested in getting to know me better - but he doesn't want to share me with anyone else! How annoying.

  And what if Greene and Heaven blame the fire on us? We were the last to leave the house, after all. It’s a good job I've managed to talk Chris into staying a bit longer. It's better this way. If we leave now, they're bound to blame us for everything that's just happened.

  I need to talk to Adam first. He'll believe me.

  All I need to do is locate his secretary Sophia and convince her to call her boss at three o'clock in the morning.

  I check the offices just in case but they're empty, of course. What did I expect? I've seen Adam work late a couple of times but not today: he went in that copter, didn't he?

  At least Sophia should be in her room.

  The elevator takes me to Adam's penthouse apartment. Greene showed it to me when he was giving me the guided tour of the building.

  The hall is brightly lit. The darkness behind the panoramic windows is speckled with the city lights. The place is silent.

  I cross the hall and head for Adam's apartment. Sophia's room is just next to it: she apparently needs to be at hand whenever he needs her assistance.

  I press the doorbell, listening to its melodious chiming inside. No one answers the door.

  Oh, great. She's not in. How am I supposed to find Adam, then? I don't even have his cell number.

  I press the doorbell again. This time I can hear the shuffling of feet.

  Sophia opens the door a little, looking very sleepy, her gorgeous mane of black hair in disarray. A nightlight is glowing in the dark room behind her back. Did I just wake her up?

  "Hi," I say cheerfully. My voice is probably too loud for three o'clock in the morning because Sophia is startled.

  "I need to speak to Adam," I explain with my best friendly smile. "He's nowhere to be found. Could you dial his number for me, please?"

  My smile doesn't seem to work. "His cell is out of range," she explains grimly. "With any luck, he might be back in a few hours."

  "Sorry but it's urgent! I'm sure you have a contact number for him. It's really important."

  She looks at me from below her long dark eyelashes and yawns, covering her mouth with a slim hand. "There's no signal down in the labs..." she falters slightly as if realizing she's said too much.

  I prick up my ears. Down in the labs? I remember Greene telling me about the underground levels, and now Sophia.

  I thought Adam left on a trip? And what's with the copter?

  "How do I get to the lab?" I ask. "I'll talk to him myself."

  "Sorry, I really don't know," Sophia says softly.

  I can see she's lying. She doesn't want to tell me. And I really don't want to use my powers, even though I can. Not here, not now. Adam will sense it. He won't be happy with me.

  "Don't you understand it's important?" I insist. "We failed a mission. I need to tell Adam straight away."

  Sophia hesitates, then shakes her head and starts to close the door.

  I hurry to jam my foot in it. I don't care. He needs to know. I have no right to give up now. I have to find out.

  I look Sophia in the eye, "How do you get to the downstairs lab? Tell me."

  Her gaze glazes over. You'd think I'd be used to it by now but I still can't bear the sight of people freezing at the sound of my voice, turning into obedient puppets. It makes me want to grab their shoulders and give them a good shake to wake them up.

  "The laboratories are located in the third underground level," she says in a calm voice.

  What the hell? I'm so surprised I very nearly lose control over her. The third underground level? I thought there were only two? Didn't Greene tell me the gym was on the second and last level?

  "How do I get there?" I ask.

  "Go down to underground level two, past the gym to the end of the corridor. Enter the code to open the storeroom," she reels off an eight-digit number.

  I struggle to remember it. My memory for numbers has never been special, but remembering the code while controlling Sophia is even more challenging.

  "Take the elevator to go one level down," she adds.

  "Does Adam go there often?"

  She nods. "Very often, especially over the last few weeks."

  So that's how it is, then. She seems to know more about Adam than I do. He's not in a hurry to open up to me, is he? He probably thinks that kissing me doesn't make me privy to his business secrets.

  "Now you will forget everything about this conversation," I say. "I've never been here. Go to bed."

  Sophia nods. I remove my foot from the door and she closes it.

  I go back to the elevators and press the -2 button.

  I'd love to tell everything to Chris but it's probably not a good idea. He'll just scoop me up in his arms and carry me away from here. And I can't do anything about it because he's immune to my powers.

  So I'd better do it myself.

  I can hear someone working out in the gym next to the elevators. The thudding echoes of a punch bag are coupled with a low humming sound, so powerful it vibrates through your body, resonating in your stomach. This is Trace, Job's partner: he's the only one who can do this sort of thing. He can create a supersound powerful enough to knock Agency guardians off their feet.

  I slide past the gym's half-open door, glimpsing the back of Trace's close-cropped head. His shoulders in a black track top tense up. He makes a quick gesture with his hand and creates another shuddering wave of acoustic tsunami.

  All the other gym rooms are locked. I hurry past them, casting frequent glances behind me. I'm alone in the corridor. I make one final turn and find myself in a dead-end.

  The storeroom door is right in front of me. The code lock is mounted on the wall next to it.

  So stupid of me. I've been walking past this door for the last week. I've seen that lock hundreds of times but never asked myself why you would put a code lock on a janitor's storeroom.

  I cast another glance behind me. The white glowing chain of wall lamps illuminates the empty corridor.

  The air shudders again as Trace and Job keep practicing, giving it their all. Are they preparing to go to war or som
ething?

  I stare at the lock. What was the number Sophie gave me? I do remember six of the digits because they resemble my birthday date. And the seventh one... but the last one I'm not so sure. Was it a five? Or a four? I can't remember.

  I enter "five". The LCD display lights up with an angry Wrong password. My back erupts in a sweat. Let's try "four".

  Wrong password.

  I need to hurry. How about "one"?

  Nope.

  I start re-entering the code when I hear voices. It's Trace and Job who've just left the gym and linger by the door, talking.

  The corridor is long, though. Doubtful they'll notice me. Unless I call out to them, I'm pretty safe.

  My fingers are shaking. I press my back to the door and try the lock one more time.

  It blinks green.

  I slide through the door, close it and lean my back against it.

  The room is tiny - a dozen square feet at most. Its walls are painted white. A spherical lamp glows weakly overhead. The wall opposite is the entrance to an elevator; I can see my blurred reflection in its polished steel doors.

  I just pray they won't open right now, letting out Greene or, God forbid, Heaven.

  I press the button. The doors slide open. I walk in. The elevator is tiny, with only three buttons on the wall. Two of them are marked as "-2" and "-3".

  I press -3. The elevator begins to descend. After what feels like a considerably long time, it finally stops.

  I brace myself. The doors open, and...

  And I come face to face with a security guard.

  Dressed in a Hermetis uniform, he's sitting at a desk, his hand resting nonchalantly on his gun. He seems relaxed enough but I can see he's well trained. It would take him a split second to take aim and fire.

  The desk is crowded with surveillance screens. He must have been watching me for quite a while - probably, ever since I came to the door upstairs.

  Behind him is a heavily armored double door with a swipe device next to it.

  "What do you think you're doing here?" he demands.

  I'm so scared that I instinctively unleash my powers on him, "Let go of the gun and open the door!"

  His hand clenches the gun harder.

  That's it. He's going to shoot me now. I focus hard and try to penetrate his mind and his body, submitting him completely.

  Finally, he lets go of the gun and rises from his seat. Slowly he staggers toward the door and swipes a card through the reader. The lock clicks.

  I walk past him. "Go sit back down and forget you ever saw me."

  Will that work? He can obey my orders while I'm around but will he be able to later forget what I've just told him?

  No idea. I hope he will.

  The guard returns to his seat. I freeze in the doorway, unsure what to do next.

  What am I doing? Adam is going to kill me! Or he'll just send me packing, that's probably easier. First the fire in Hill's house, and now this... Should I go back to Chris, maybe?

  No. Unable to overcome my curiosity, I close the door behind me.

  A long corridor stretches in front of me, forking at its far end. Two rows of doors line the walls, each equipped with a code lock. Long observation windows are fitted between them, identical to those in the hospital upstairs. I should have taken the swipe card from the guard.

  I push the door nearest to me. It opens noiselessly. Behind it is a room with a hospital bed covered with an orange rubber sheet. Some unplugged medical equipment is mounted around the bed. Dead monitors flicker weakly. A few lab coats are hanging by the door.

  I grab a lab coat and put it on. It's clean and crisp, smelling of washing powder. I rearrange its collar and smooth down my hair.

  Hello, Dr. Sarah, the emerging star of psychic brain surgery.

  Another door far in front opens, letting out a man in a coat identical to mine. Before I get the chance to do anything, he disappears down one of the forking corridors.

  Good. Time to look for Adam. Then again, should I have a look around, maybe? They must have had a reason to keep this place secret from us. Also, why did Adam have to lie to me about going on a trip?

  Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he had a last-moment change of plan. I really need to find out.

  I keep walking along the corridor until I reach the first window. I cast a look inside and freeze, unable to take my eyes off the scene.

  This too is a hospital room but the lighting is unusual. The room's walls are covered with colorful projection images: phrases in weird-looking languages, bits of various landscapes, people's faces showing different emotions: smiling, frowning, scowling.

  The images keep moving, overlapping each other, then disintegrating, like a confusing hologram of human thoughts, feelings and visual images.

  At its center, a naked man is hovering over the floor. He's completely white, from his alabaster skin to his snowy crew cut.

  Just when I think it's probably a wax doll, the levitating man turns on his side away from me as if sleeping in bed. His back is covered in a silvery pattern.

  A tattoo? Or could it be some metallic fibers implanted into his skin? The pattern resembles the shape of the veins in a leaf: a thin central spine with fine meandering branches tracing the man's ribs.

  Suddenly the pattern on the albino man's back lights up. The projections on the walls become brighter and clearer, too.

  Oh wow. What a shame I haven't got my phone with me. I'd love to film all this.

  I force my gaze away from the man and back off. The corridor is still empty. I need to keep going.

  What on earth was that? No idea. I can't think of any explanation that might fit.

  I peek into the next window. People in white coveralls and latex gloves are busy working at lab tables, mixing liquids in test tubes and entering results into laptops.

  I search for Adam among them - not to speak to him but to make sure he can't see me. Maybe talking to him is not a good idea anymore.

  He's not there, anyway. The lab's far wall is made into a whiteboard divided into several sections and covered in all sorts of formulas and calculations. Next to them is a large poster depicting a weird living object, a bit like a human cell under a microscope.

  In front of the whiteboard is a long coffin-like box made of transparent plastic, filled with some murky yellow and green gas. I squint, peering at it in disbelief.

  Inside the box lies a man. A mask covers the lower part of his face. I remember seeing an identical mask covering Chris' face when we took him to hospital from Times Square.

  The man is tall and burly like a guardian dual. His eyes are closed. He's either dead or sedated.

  I hurry past the next window unwilling to look in, scared of what I might see there. Still, something forces me to stop and peer into the murky semi-darkness of the room.

  That's Sam. I recognize him in spite of the thick stubble covering his face. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. His fingers are intertwined. The expression on his face... it's as if he's somewhere far from here. As if he's trying to remember something or grasp some idea he can't yet fathom. Could it be Emma's careless betrayal?

  I suppress the desire to knock on the window and force myself to continue, feeling as if I’m a traitor myself. I can't help him. Should I even? I don't know. This place just feels wrong.

  Two girls in lab coats walk past me in the same direction, both crispy clean and bespectacled, talking about things like "strains" and "stock cultures". I don't understand any of it but follow inconspicuously in their wake. We turn a corner, walk past several more lab rooms, then take another turn.

  "Let's try it again," a voice comes from a windowless room, clear and familiar.

  Adam.

  My heart drops. I'm dying to barge in and tell him everything. Still, all my instincts scream against it. I should probably escape while I still can.

  Carefully I turn the door handle and peek into the gap.

  My blood freezes.

  The roo
m in front of me is separated by a thick sheet of glass. Adam is standing with his back to me, clutching a small microphone. Two guys in lab coats stand next to him, marking something down on their computer tablets. All three are wearing massive earmuffs similar to those Greene had during him gym practice.

  On the other side of the glass, several men and women - about ten in total - stand with their heads and arms drooping. I recognize them as Agency "gorillas".

  I think I can see Emma among them. Hair up in a bun, skinny arms, the familiar stick insect frame - it has to be her. What's she doing there? Is it some sort of experiment too?

  Adam brings the microphone to his lips. "You're surrounded by enemies. They're looking for you. They want to kill you."

  His voice is so powerful that even I very nearly fall under its commandeering spell.

  For a split second, the world around me feels fluid and unstable. My heart begins to race. My ears are blocked; my head fills with a humming noise. I can make out whispered voices and a sinister cackling laughter...

  Blinking, I shake off the stupor and keep watching the scene unfolding behind the reinforced glass.

  Emma, our tiny, fragile Emma, lunges at a huge guy next to her. She claws his shoulders Like a wild cat, then sinks her teeth into his face, biting through his cheek as if it's a slice of steak.

  Blood lies everywhere, covering the guy's face and Emma's own white blouse. With a scream, the guy hurls Emma into the room's far corner. She hits her back against the wall and slides to the floor.

  In the meantime, the guy is already busy fighting a burly bald-headed giant. Their tattooed arms are locked in combat. The room is a mess of blood, punches and growling.

  Why doesn't Adam stop them? He's just standing there viewing the scene while his assistants poke at their tablets, entering data!

  "It works," Adam says in his usual voice. He actually looks pleased!

  This isn't the man I spoke to only a few hours ago.

  Mechanically I touch my lips.

  I can't believe I kissed him.

  I can't believe I trusted him.

  Finally, Adam orders them to stop, using his powerful voice again. The test subjects freeze in their places.