The Secret Gift

by Ian Somers

  ‘What a little shit,’ Hunter moaned as we crossed the lobby and took to the staircase. There was an elevator in the reception area but agents never used them. The staircase was always the safer route to take. ‘Winking and giggling at us like that. He should be more careful of who he laughs at!’

  ‘You know what he was thinking, right?’

  ‘I know exactly what he was thinking! Let’s not speak of it again, eh?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  We scoped the place out as best we could as we made our way to the fourth floor. It was prudent in such situations to know where the fire exits, dead ends, hiding places and cameras were located. Room 408 was on the top floor, at the end of a long hallway with no fire exits nearby. Hunter didn’t like it. I liked it less; there was no easy way out if we found ourselves in a fight.

  The room was small and had that unimaginative vibe that all hotel rooms have. There were two very narrow beds, a small bathroom, a TV that you had to pay to watch and a desk with a kettle and two cups on it. None of this mattered. The important thing was the large window facing the road which was exactly what we needed. From there we could watch for any sign of Wilson and Brofeldt. Hunter pulled two chairs from the side of the desk and placed them by the window. I had the feeling we’d spend most of our time sitting on them as we held vigil over Windmill Street.

  ‘Are you tired?’ Hunter asked as he set down a haversack next to the window. ‘You should get some rest now if you need it.’

  ‘Sleep is the last thing I want.’ I sat next to the window and studied the road and the pavements outside. It was near impossible to identify any faces from our lofty position. We did, however, have a perfect view of the block of apartments across the street. ‘Hopefully these two won’t keep us waiting. This chair will be torture after a couple of hours.’

  ‘Let’s not invest in hope, Bentley.’ Hunter sat next to me and stretched out his left leg with a groan. ‘This could take an hour or a week. We’ll just have to be patient.’

  ‘What’s in the haversack?’

  ‘Spare clothes, cigars, whiskey, binoculars and a laptop.’

  ‘I didn’t think you knew how to use a laptop.’ I had a chuckle at his expense before returning my gaze to the street. ‘And what happens if we do spot them? What then?’

  ‘We’ll watch them at first. We have to know what they’re up to before we contact the Guild.’

  ‘Can we handle these two if things don’t go according to plan?’

  ‘Of course we can. Wilson and Brofeldt might pose a serious threat to normal people, but we’re the gifted soldiers that spies like them have nightmares about.’

  ‘I somehow doubt that. Wilson doesn’t seem like a man who fears much.’

  ‘We’ll see about that when the time comes.’

  ‘I guess we will,’ I replied, before lifting Hunter’s laptop from the floor. I powered it up and connected it to one of the many wifi signals available.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Hunter wondered.

  ‘I want to see what’s being said about the incident at the hospital last night.’

  There was a lot being said. The internet was alive with news reports and vague theories about what had happened the previous night.

  ‘What does it say?’ Hunter asked. ‘Are there any details?’

  ‘They’re claiming it was the work of terrorists.’

  ‘That seems to be the excuse for everything these days.’

  ‘Damn it,’ I hissed as I read through one of the reports. ‘Detective Clarke died during the night.’

  ‘That’s hardly surprising. He was on death’s door when we got there.’

  ‘I thought I’d saved him.’

  ‘You did for a short time. It isn’t your fault, Bentley.’

  ‘It still upsets me, though. Clarke is yet another innocent person who was killed because of the struggles of the gifted.’

  ‘Get used to it,’ Hunter said. ‘He won’t be the last.’

  ‘I had a feeling you’d say that.’

  Nothing out of the ordinary happened during the first few hours of our stakeout and I decided on having a shower as darkness crept over the city and the lights of the street below pained my eyes. It wasn’t like the penthouse bathroom of the Golding Plaza in London but it was a welcome change to the unpredictable plumbing of my isolated cottage. I returned to the room to find Hunter hunched over, with his legs crossed and staring at the building through a pair of binoculars. He looked ridiculous.

  ‘You know, some woman is going to notice you staring through those things and call the police.’

  ‘Highly unlikely, seeing as though I have an invisibility barrier set up in front of the window. No one outside can see anything in this room other than darkness.’

  ‘Always thinking ahead, eh.’ I sat next to him and examined the road below. ‘See anything out of the ordinary yet?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He raised the binoculars and scanned the windows of the apartment block. Some were filled with shadows, others were warmed by lamps. There was no one in sight. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’

  ‘Crafty spies,’ I sighed. ‘You know, my father used to read spy novels all the time. I’ve read a few myself.’

  ‘I sense the coming of an outlandish theory …’

  ‘Well, now that you mention it, I do have a new theory. I was thinking while having a shower that perhaps the rumours about Brofeldt were true. What if she was, and still is, working for a secret American agency. Maybe Wilson is also working for them. In spy novels governments are always spying on each other. Maybe the Americans hired Wilson and Brofeldt to pry into the British government’s financial dealings. How about that?’

  ‘The spy novels you read were obviously based on the cold war,’ Hunter replied without taking his eyes from the binoculars. ‘I’m quite sure the Americans would be capable of using computers to hack into the British databases instead of planting mind-switchers directly into their departments. These people are too rare and valuable to be put in harm’s way when a computer can do their work more efficiently. No, there’s some other explanation. There’s something more sinister at work here.’

  ‘I think it’s a more likely scenario than Wilson and Brofeldt working for criminals.’

  ‘I would rule out both,’ Hunter said. He handed the binoculars to me and leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. ‘I can’t figure it all out right now. I need more information. There is, however, another possibility that I have been mulling over.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘That Wilson and Brofeldt are only two of a whole host of spies who are working together. Enough spies to do more than simply spy. Enough spies to influence. That’s what mind-switchers are best at. They influence the minds of others.’

  ‘You think there’s a bunch of them placed in government agencies and using their gifts to influence the decisions of more important people?’

  ‘That’s my current theory, yes.’

  ‘Seems plausible,’ I nodded. ‘It leads us back to the same question: Who are they working for?’

  ‘They could be working for themselves. Perhaps they are a group of individuals with a common cause or bond. They could be fanatics who believe they can bring about great change in the world if they could seize control of a powerful government. Groups of people don’t always need a leader, Bentley.’

  ‘It helps to have a leader, Hunter. That way they stay focused.’

  ‘Having a leader can be construed as having a weakness. When there is a leader, people become dependent upon him or her, and if the leader is suddenly removed, the group can be left in disarray. Remember we discussed the game of chess? Yes. Kill the king. End the game.’

  ‘The Guild has a leader. Does that make us weak?’

  ‘Us?’ He glanced at me and smiled.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Not in the Guild’s case, no. We have a very strict structure set up in our organisation. If our leader was to fall, then the Council would
elect a new person within hours.’

  ‘Who would get the vote if Sterling was killed?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not me at any rate. But this talk is folly, Sterling is probably the most difficult person in the world to kill.’

  ‘Oh yes, I forgot you seem to think he’s infallible.’

  ‘Not infallible. Just wise and powerful, very well protected and very well hidden. Even I don’t know where he is right now.’

  ‘Maybe Wilson and Brofeldt are working for someone just as powerful. It’s not impossible, is it?’

  ‘Let’s hope it is. I would not like to think there’s an enemy out there who is so strong with the true gifts.’

  ‘You know, all these theories go to mud when we consider the assassin at the hospital. That gadget she had on her arm … There would have to be some serious financial backing and experience to invent and construct something like that.’

  ‘All will become apparent in time.’

  I looked through the binoculars and moved my tunnelled gaze from one window of the apartment block to the next. Still nothing to see, unless you considered a man jogging on the spot or a woman drying her hair as worth looking at – although the woman was rather hot.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ I said, turning back to the big Scot, who was still enjoying his cigar. ‘Why did you drive off in such a sulk last night? You were acting like a right tool.’

  ‘It was all an act,’ he smiled. ‘It’s an old trick. When you want someone to do something particularly dangerous, you pretend to get all flustered. Then, just before you rush off, you say: “I’m sure you’ll have no regrets when you die of old age.” It always works.’

  ‘You gave me a guilt trip.’

  ‘Ah, you wouldn’t be the first to fall for that one. Mind you, it usually it takes a day or two for the victim to give in. You caved in much quicker than I expected.’

  ‘There didn’t seem to be time to dally,’ I said. ‘You’re a hard boiled shit, Hunter.’

  ‘Oh, calm down,’ he chuckled. ‘I’ve fallen for it myself in the past. It worked so well on me that I employed itfor my own ends.’

  ‘Who used it on you?’

  ‘Jonathan Atkinson. Oh, he was shrewd that man.’ Hunter smiled fondly. ‘He could talk anyone into doing anything.’ He dabbed his cigar into an ashtray on the window sill and looked at me. ‘His daughter is just as persuasive.’

  ‘Is she?’

  ‘She convinced you to leave the Guild, didn’t she?’

  ‘I wanted to leave. There’s a difference.’

  ‘You didn’t want to leave badly enough that it took me less than an hour to get you back in the saddle.’

  ‘You just returned at the right time. A week earlier or later and I’d have told you to sling your hook … Actually, your timing was impossibly good, Hunter. You’ve been watching me all along, haven’t you? Ever since you tracked me down last December.’

  ‘No.’ He folded his arms and stared vacantly at the window. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You have! It was too much of a coincidence that you showed up needing my help a day after Cathy left for France!’

  ‘Do you honestly think I set this whole thing up just to get you back in the Guild? Come on. Don’t be so paranoid.’

  ‘I’m not paranoid.’

  ‘Yes, you are. Now, shut up with all this nonsense. We’ve got a very serious issue that we need to discuss.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’m hungry. What are we going to do about it?’

  ‘Room service?’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking …’ He stood up from his chair and leaned against the window, staring across the street and pointing. ‘… until I saw that.’

  I went to his side and followed his finger. He was pointing to a chipper next to the entrance to the apartment block. I was practically salivating within seconds.

  ‘Yeah …’ I said. ‘Hotels don’t do good chips …’

  ‘No, they don’t.’

  ‘Is it worth the risk?’

  ‘Here,’ he said, handing me a couple of notes. ‘Get me a battered cod and a bag of chips. Make sure they put loads of vinegar on both. I’ll cloak you as you cross the street, but you’ll be visible once you walk through that door. Don’t hang around, don’t make eye contact with anyone, don’t do anything stupid, and get me a tub of garlic sauce while you’re at it.’

  My heart was in my mouth as I made my way across the gridlocked street. I was fighting back waves of that familiar anxiety even though I was invisible to everyone around me. Rain was pouring down and it made it difficult to focus on those walking on the pavement ahead or the people who had sought shelter under the shop front of the chipper. I then became acutely aware that I had no idea what Brofeldt looked like. By the time I reached the opposite pavement I had also realised that I wasn’t cloaked at all; a cyclist thundering along the roadside had shouted at me to get out of his way.

  Hunter was using me as bait. He really was an unscrupulous git!

  I didn’t linger on the pavement, and moved swiftly to the glass doors of the chipper. I couldn’t help but stare at a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway chatting on her mobile phone. Her gaze met mine. My heart skipped a beat and I almost came to a stop right next to her. Was this Brofeldt?

  Then she simply frowned and called me a freak before continuing her conversation. I let out a deep breath and pushed the door open and stepped into the noisy chipper. I was immediately smacked by the heat of the fryers, grills, ovens and the heaving mass of people on either side of the counter. I calmly threw back my hood, zipped down my jacket and strolled to the end of the queue. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone, despite feeling the urge to examine the faces of everyone sitting in the numerous booths on the far side of the room.

  It felt like an hour had passed before one of the men behind the counter came to take my order. It was like an eternity before one of his co-workers called me forward to collect the large brown paper bag full of food. I felt the eyes of a teenage girl sitting in a booth by the window on me as I waiting by the till. Thanks to my precognitive gift I knew there was no danger, but like the clerk in the hotel, she had recognised my face. I didn’t wait for her to place me and didn’t wait for the teller to hand me my change.

  ‘Keep it,’ I said before hurrying outside to the embrace of chilled night air and the protection of darkness.

  Despite the downpour I just stood outside the chipper staring at the fourth floor window of the hotel across the street. I knew Hunter would be watching me. He was going to pay for sending me into the firing line uncloaked. Oh, was he going to pay! I opened the bag and slowly lifted chip after chip into my mouth. I chewed as slowly as I could and smiled as broadly as humanly possible, so that he could see my pleasure from across the street. I really played it up. I knew he’d be over there drooling as I stuffed my face. I even tore a chunk from his precious battered fish and gobbled it down. I tore another piece off and raised it in the air to toast him and then lowered into my mouth then rubbed my stomach and nodded. Oh, he must have been going nuts!

  Then I turned to my right to see Malcolm Wilson standing three yards away – staring straight at me. I almost died of shock right then and there. I remained perfectly still, silently gathered energy into my body in preparation for the fight that was surely to come.

  The world seemed to be moving in slow motion around us. The people on the pavement faded away and all that was real was the stare that we shared. He looked so calm as he faced me. He must have had nerves of steel. I was bloody terrified and I’m sure it showed. Then he gave me a curious nod, as if he was saying: ‘Aren’t you man enough to attack?’. I couldn’t think of anything else to do but nod back, as if to say, ‘Your move.’

  And that’s exactly what I wanted to say; I wanted him to make the first move. I had never faced a mind-switcher in combat and didn’t want to rush into this fight.

  ‘We should g
et a move on,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to be out in this rain all night.’ He was so calm. There was even a hint of a smile on his face. Didn’t he know of my reputation? Didn’t he know I had fought Marianne Dolloway and Edward Zalech? He was actually courting combat with me? ‘Don’t just stand there staring at me.’

  What the bloody hell was he talking about? Was he trying to trick me into dropping my guard?

  ‘Why don’t you shut up and watch the road?’ a voice said over my shoulder. ‘Look, here’s one now.’

  I spun around to see a smartly dressed woman with long blonde hair standing right behind me.

  ‘Put out your arm, Malcolm!’ she said. ‘He’ll drive right past!’

  I looked back at Wilson to see him stepping to the side of the road with his arm in the air. ‘Taxi,’ he shouted. ‘Stop, damn it! Taxi!’

  Hunter had me cloaked. I had been standing in between the two killer spies as I ate and didn’t even notice them. Thankfully Hunter had been on alert and used his light-tuning ability to make me invisible. They hadn’t seen me and were now climbing into the back of a taxi. I was lucky that my mouth had been full of battered cod, otherwise I might have replied to Wilson, thinking he was actually talking to me and not Brofeldt. It had been a close call. A little too close for my liking.

  I threw the bag of food at Hunter as I stormed into the hotel room. Annoyingly, it didn’t hit him; he used his gift to suspend the bag in mid-air and it floated harmlessly onto his lap. He was sitting in the chair by the window, where I’d left him, and was totally unperturbed by what had happened.

  ‘That better taste good!’ I shouted at him. ‘That’s the most expensive fish in the world. It almost cost me my life!’

  Hunter calmly unravelled the sodden paper bag and stuffed a handful of chips into his gob. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Bentley,’ he said with his mouth full, specks of food shooting from his mouth in all directions. ‘I had you covered the whole time.’

  ‘No, you didn’t! I was uncloaked when I walked to the chipper. What purpose did that serve?’

  ‘I simply wanted to see if anyone was following us. You would have sensed danger before anything happened anyway. You’re precognitive, remember?’