by Lee McGeorge
“Jesus...” It was all Corneliu could say and it came out as a shriek.
The man walked him to the back of the room and pushed him into the armchair, withdrawing the knife. Cornel pulled at his shirt and grabbed the wound. Blood was spreading on his clothing.
“Please. Don’t...”
The lights went out.
Timed.
Corneliu was still holding the credit card sized room key in his hand. A little bit of light came from outside the window and a sliver came from the corridor, shining through a crack in the unclosed door.
In this darkness, Corneliu could see a big man holding a knife by his side. The man looked over Corneliu. He leaned in making him flinch and brace for another stabbing. His stomach felt burning hot, his hands trembled. He couldn’t think clearly.
The man leaned close, took the room key and walked backwards to the door, he closed it with a soft click. He dropped the bloody room key into the power point making the lights reactivate.
The man.
He had slicked back grey hair and a moustache. He wore pale blue tinted glasses.
“What do you want?” Cornel pleaded, his eyes rolled around the room then dropped to look at the wound in his belly. He pressed it as firmly as he could. His clothes, the chair, everything was running red. He made a soft squealing cry as blood pumped from the wound between his fingers. He couldn’t stop the bleeding. He would die if he didn’t stop the bleeding.
The man took the chair from under the dressing table and turned it to face Cornel. He was about to sit but became distracted by blood on his own hand, the hand holding the knife. He walked to the bathroom, turned back to Corneliu and said, “Don’t move.”
The man entered the bathroom. Corneliu had his wits about him enough to grab his mobile phone from his trouser pocket, he dialled 999 with bloody fingers, the phone was slippery. Water gushed in the bathroom.
“Emergency, which service please.”
The phone slashed out of his hand. The man had rushed back like a leopard, the knife blade swinging in fluid motion to hit the telephone and his hand. Blood cast off in an arc up the wall of the room. Cornel flinched and pushed himself further into the chair. There was a wide gash between his fingers and blood rushed from the wound. He winced, gritting his teeth together, clasping his right hand in his left and pressing them both against his stomach.
Jesus Christ, I’m going to die. Jesus Christ, I’m going to die. Jesus Christ, I’m going to die. The words rushed through his mind like they were from a song, generating a rhythm of syllables.
The man stepped by him and picked up the phone. The operator could be heard as a tiny voice, repeatedly asking which service he needed. The call was ended, then the man popped the battery cover off and threw the phone one way and the battery another. He walked behind and took a moment to hold open the net curtains and look out of the window. “That was a stupid thing to do,” the man growled as he looked outside. “Don’t do anything else stupid, or I will kill you.”
With that the man went to the bathroom again. There was the sound of running water. It splashed. It stopped running. The man came out drying the knife with a towel. He clipped it into a sheath under his jacket then used the towel to dry his hands.
He took the seat and leaned forward.
“Who are you?” Corneliu whispered in a staggered, guttural breath.
“I’m Paul McGovern... but you know that.”
“No, you’re not McGo...” and then he realised. His eyes squeezed closed involuntarily, his stomach retracted lifting his legs as though his body was involuntarily pulling into a ball. Air trapped in his chest, he couldn’t breathe, his face turned bright red until he suddenly purged as a burst of energy. It was a cry of rage and anguish all in one.
“Look at me.”
Corneliu couldn’t. He peeked a glance but his body tried to withdraw again.
McGovern leaned back in the chair and opened his jacket to reveal the two knives against his chest. “Look at me, Detective Latis. Or I shall start cutting pieces of you away. Your ears, your toes, the end of your cock.” He withdrew a knife from his chest and pointed the tip into Corneliu’s face. “Don’t challenge me, Detective, don’t doubt my resolve. You will lose... Now look at me.”
Corneliu complied as best he could. He curled halfway into a sideways ball in the armchair, his hands gripping his belly, blood seeping out and beginning to drip from the bottom of the chair onto the carpet.
“We’re going to have a chat, you and I. Questions and answers. I ask questions, you answer them. If you don’t answer or I think you’re lying then I will hurt you. Understand?”
Corneliu nodded, the movement was jerking, his body locking all of his muscles in contraction.
“How did you track me? When you found Nisha, how did you do it?”
“Your computer. The British police found a way to track your laptop and they followed it to The Talbot pub in King’s Cross,” he grimaced as he spoke. “They followed Nisha Khumari’s telephone to the same location... It was the British police.”
“The newspapers said it was you.” Paul replied.
“The newspapers are liars.”
Paul gave a slight laugh. “They are, Detective. How are you tracking me now?”
“They aren’t. They can’t find you.” His breathing was suddenly coming in spasms, his words spitting out in bleated bursts. “They discovered that you had changed your identity to Joseph Frady. They’re looking for Paul McGovern and Joseph Frady as two entities.” He started gasping, unable to get enough air in. “So far they have nothing. You have done a good disappearing act.”
“Tell me about Lucian Noica.”
“Lucian... how do you know about Lucian?”
Paul calmly pointed the knife at him, “I ask questions... Noica.”
“Lucian... He cares about you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, yes he does,” Cornel said tasting blood inside his mouth. “I’ve only met him once. He has an institute in Romania where he studies this thing... that you are, the thing that happened to you.”
“Do you know what happened to me?”
Corneliu shook his head. He panted his answer. “I don’t understand it. Lucian calls it The Source. If you’re exposed to it then you’re supposed to go crazy... but you’re not crazy.”
Paul hummed a laugh. “You think I’m not crazy.”
“No, you’re not,” Corneliu replied with some vigour. “Lucian says when other men are touched by the source, they lose their minds and become like... like... they just stand still and they can’t think and eventually they can’t even stand up because they shake and tremble so badly... That hasn’t happened to you yet. Lucian studies this at his institute. He wanted to find you before you became like the others… Paul, did you find out about this? I know you were looking up illnesses… You’re dying. Lucian is trying to find you to help you. That’s why I’m here too. You’re very ill and you’re going to die if we don’t get you help.”
“Do you know where this institute is? The address, do you have the address?”
Corneliu nodded to the laptop. “It’s there. There’s a folder on the desktop with your name. It has everything in there.
Paul turned his head to the laptop and minimized the video conference software. It was true, there was a folder labelled Paul McGovern. He clicked it open and found documents and images. Crime scene photos in thumbnail. A file was named ‘Ildico’.
“Does this computer have a password?” He asked as he entered the administrative panel. He selected the option to remove password and was prompted to enter one. “Tell me the password.”
“Nu Problem 1... N.U.P.R.O.B.L.E.M. and then number one.”
Paul typed it. The system was now password free. He saw the carry case in the footwell below the table. He took it and opened it. He disconnected the laptop from the power supply and was about to close it when the video conferencing software chimed.
Incoming Call: Lucian
Noica.
Oh fuck...
McGovern turned a smiling eye to Corneliu. “I think I should answer it, don’t you?”
----- X -----
Lucian had positioned himself in front of the screen after ensuring he was correctly groomed. He sat, he composed himself, he checked his position on the screen, then he sent the call request.
The software chimed for almost thirty seconds. He had purposely arranged this time. Why wasn’t Corneliu answering?
Then the call was accepted. The screen was tilted down hiding Cornel’s face.
“Buna seara, Corneliu. Eu nu pot veda...” The screen adjusted. It wasn’t Corneliu. It was an older man with a moustache. “Scuză-mă, pot să vorbesc cu Latis detectivi.”
On screen the grey haired man looked to one side and asked, “What did he say?”
“I’m sorry, I forgot,” Noica replied in English. “I was asking if I could speak with Detective Latis, please.”
The grey haired man stared into the camera for a moment then turned the laptop sideways.
Corneliu.
There was blood everywhere. He was curled on his side in an armchair with blood all over his chest.
The laptop turned back to the grey haired man and Lucian Noica felt like he’d been hit with a javelin. “Paul...” He said it as a whisper. Instinctively his hand went for the telephone beside him but he caught himself from picking up the receiver... Think fast... He pressed the speakerphone button and then a stored number. Bogdan’s number. “Paul...” he said again.
His fingers were searching for the speakerphone volume, he found it at the same time as Bogdan answered. “Buna, Lucian,” he said as the volume faded his voice to the lowest setting.
“Is that you, Paul McGovern?” Lucian said it loud and clear, hoping, praying that Bogdan could hear. “Where are you? It looks like you’re in Corneliu Latis’ hotel room.”
“That’s Latis in the chair.”
“Is he alive?”
“For now,” Paul replied. “He might live too... Tell me Mr. Noica. Do I know you, did we ever meet?”
“I don’t... what? Did we meet? We’ve never met, we’ve never met.”
“Then why do I feel like I know you? I even knew what your voice would sound like before you spoke.”
“I don’t know... Paul, please let me try and understand the situation. You are in Corneliu Latis’ hotel room, is that correct?”
Paul looked at him quizzically. “I’m with Latis. Do you want him to live?”
“What?”
“Do you want Latis to live?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then tell me what is wrong with me.”
Latis cleared his throat. “You have been exposed to something.”
“The Source?”
“Yes... how did you know that?”
“What is it, Noica. What is the source?”
Noica shrugged. “It’s beyond what we can explain. We don’t know what it is. We only see what it does to men. How are you feeling, Paul, your health do you have any problems with trembling, or shaking, especially in the hands or eyes?”
McGovern looked away. “What is happening to me?”
Noica shrugged. “You’re destabilising. Most men exposed to the source lose their thoughts and comprehension within weeks, within days for most men. You seem to be functioning well, so far. But the truth is every man who has ever been exposed to the source has eventually fallen into a state of misery. They feel a lot of pain, their bodies shake uncontrollably until they are exhausted. They lose their higher brain functions and can no longer reason. Almost all of them lose the ability to speak or understand spoken words. This hasn’t happened to you yet, Paul. I’d like to help you. I’d like to help you before it does happen.”
----- X -----
Bogdan could barely breathe he was running so fast. He was in the hotel bar when he took the call. His room was on the fourth floor, Latis was on the second. He took the elevator to his room to grab the M99 injector and the suppressed revolver whilst still listening in to the telephone. Noica was in a conversation with McGovern but when Bogdan had asked questions it was as though he didn’t want to answer.
It took a moment for him to connect the dots.
Noica couldn’t answer.
He heard Lucian spell it out to him twice that McGovern was in Corneliu’s hotel room, but it somehow didn’t seem to register as fast as it should have. Now that it had he was operating on pure adrenalin.
Bogdan took the revolver in his right hand, his dominant hand with the sharpest aim. Kill first, ask questions later. The M99 was in his left hand in the chance a situation presented to tranquilize McGovern. He doubted it. It was a one shot deal and he’d probably miss. He had four more of the pencil sized darts in his pocket but the time it took to reload the injector was enough time for a vampire to kill two or three people with his bare hands.
His feet hammered the floor as he sprinted along the hotel corridor.
Corneliu was two floors below.
He shouldered the fire door open beside the elevator and went for the staircase, his feet echoing heavily in the concrete stairwell. Down to the third floor. He struggled to turn the corners with guns in both hands, unable to grip the banister. Down to the second floor.
As he turned the final corner a waiter was pulling a room service trolley into a service elevator. He looked at Bogdan, then the guns, then backed up against the wall and raised his hands.
“You!” Bogdan almost shouted it under the adrenalin rush. “Do you have a key for any door? A master key?”
The kid looked terrified. He nodded.
“Give me.” Bogdan said it whilst gesturing with the injector. “Give me key.” The kid handed over a white plastic card on a yellow lanyard. “I want you...” Bogdan was gasping, “I want you call police. Tell them, man with guns, very danger. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. Man with guns.”
“Tell them, room 236.”
“You want I tell them now?” the waiter turned his hip to show a portable phone clipped to his belt.
“Yes. Now.”
Bogdan moved on and opened the door to the corridor to look. The waiter made a call behind him. Bogdan listened for a second as he surveilled the corridor. “Hello, this is Carlos room service. I am second floor service area. There is a man with gun, he says call police.” Bogdan moved out into the corridor hearing the waiter reiterating the statement. “There is a man, he has guns.”
Police were coming. Armed police. It would be best to just slip away if possible. It might not be.
Bogdan walked the corridor holding both weapons by his side. Room 231, 232, 233, 234, 235… this is it... 236.
As carefully as he could, he put the card into the slot. A green light turned on above the handle and the lock made a slight click.
Fuck... it clicked.
He had to do it, he had to open and rush.
One... Two... Three...
He pressed the handle and pushed hard to throw the door. A man sprung from a chair and threw it at the doorway. It didn’t look like McGovern but he moved as fast as Bogdan expected. In the time it took him to extend his arm and pull the trigger the chair was hurtling through the air towards him and McGovern had ducked out of sight.
The gun kicked in his hand before the chair hit him. The bullet hit the window on the far side knocking a hole in the glass and dragging the net curtain through it.
Something high.
Bogdan raised the gun and fired.
A pillow, thrown around the corner. He was aiming high.
McGovern came in low, kicked up the fallen chair towards Bogdan’s chest.
Bad situation, trapped in the tiny hallway by the bathroom at the entrance to the room.
Bogdan threw himself backwards, breaking back out into the corridor and falling to the floor. He extended the guns again. McGovern was crouched, he held two knives in his hands, he was snarling like a lion. Above him, Bogdan saw Cornel standing,
bleeding, badly injured.
McGovern snapped forward. Bogdan pushed back and pulled the trigger knowing he might hit Latis. McGovern anticipated the move and ducked to the side of the shot. Bogdan had thought he was coming straight for him. He wasn’t. McGovern’s low dive was to the door. He slammed it shut with Bogdan out in the corridor. The lock engaged. There was a thud, the chair perhaps, barricading the other side of the door.
Corneliu...
Corneliu was in there.
----- X -----
Paul grabbed the laptop and yelled to Noica on the video call. “I will fucking kill you for what you’ve just done.” He slung the bag across his head and shoulder, snapped the laptop closed and jammed it inside.
Corneliu was standing, backing towards the window.
Fuck this guy.
Paul swung a knife harshly catching him on the cheek. The blade peeled through his face and jarred across his teeth. His top lip cut from his mouth to hang loose. Paul swung the opposite knife and stabbed the other cheek flaying off Corneliu’s nose. He started falling backwards, his skull exposed in two swift cuts, his bare teeth and sinus cavity rendered open and bloody.
He crashed backwards taking a bedside lamp down with him.
The lock clicked.
The gunman was coming in.
He barely thought of the action. It was automatic. He ran at the window, bounced high from putting a foot into the bloody armchair and crashed through the glass in a ball as he felt a bullet shoot past his ear.
Freefall. Ten feet. He hit the roof of the courtyard and rolled, cradling the laptop. He looked up and saw the gunman at the window. There was a puff of smoke by his feet and a vibration like someone had inflicted a hammer blow to the ground beside him, but he didn’t hear a shot.
He turned and ran to the edge of the apron, hoping to jump down into the street. The rain obscured things. It was raining harder now. It was dark. He heard wailing sirens. He got to the edge and saw two bright red cars with flashing blue lights concealed in the bumper. The cars screeched to a halt outside the entrance. Men jumped out. He saw them pull on baseball caps, black and white checker pattern running around the brim. Police insignia. Then came the guns. Heckler and Koch, MP7 machine guns. Another police car arrived. Uniformed police, high visibility vests, sealing off the area.
