The Secret Gift

by Ian Somers

  ‘Aren’t accountants supposed to be well off?’ I asked as I examined the façade of 87. It was the most rundown house on the entire street.

  ‘The Portmans probably should be well off. But they have given a lot of their time to the Guild over the years. That means they aren’t seen as very reliable accountants and struggle to find repeat work.’

  ‘Doesn’t the Guild pay them?’

  ‘The Guild doesn’t have an endless supply of cash, Bentley. I work for them twenty four seven. Do I look like I have a lot of money?’

  ‘No. You do steal from drug dealers, though.’

  ‘Maybe I should actually change my name to Robin Hood.’

  I managed to laugh, despite my face being stiff with cold. Hunter wasn’t laughing with me; he had leaned forward and was staring at a silver station wagon that crawled up the road. I watched it turning into the driveway of 87, where it remained, engine running and lights on, for quite some time.

  ‘Is that them?’

  ‘It’s him.’

  ‘Do we wait for both of them before we attack?’

  ‘To hell with that,’ Hunter spat. ‘I’m too cold to wait.’

  Finally John Portman killed the engine and climbed out of the station wagon. He stood in his garden, under the heavy snow and looked up and down the street four times before making his way to the door. He thought he was being vigilant by monitoring the street. In truth, he’d stared right at us more than once as we made our approach. He hadn’t expected a light-tuner to come calling that evening.

  ‘I forgot to ask,’ I said quietly to Hunter, ‘what gifts does he have?’

  ‘Partial emotomagnet and pure ink-seer.’

  ‘That doesn’t make him dangerous, right?’

  ‘Right. His wife is the dangerous one. Hopefully she doesn’t stumble in on us while we’re torturing him.’

  ‘You can do the torturing,’ I replied, teeth almost chattering. ‘I don’t have the stomach for it.’

  ‘Leave it to me. You just make sure you stay on the alert. This could get ugly.’

  ‘I don’t want to depend on my precognitive abilities while I’m fighting this headache.’

  ‘Just keep your eyes open.’

  We plodded up the driveway to the front door and could see Portman through the frosted glass of the side porch window. He was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs and was pulling off his shoes. It seemed like as good a time as any to confront him. Hunter took the lead by snapping the lock of the front door and pouncing into the hallway, his hands surrounded by blue lines of electricity that latched onto Portman’s face as soon as he was inside. I stepped into the threshold and turned back to glance along the road. No one had seen a thing, and there was no sign of Angela. I eased the door shut then used my gift to fracture the frame so it would stay shut despite having no lock.

  ‘No, Hunter,’ Portman moaned as the big Scot dragged him by his feet to the kitchen. ‘Please, Hunter! Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Why?’ Hunter barked. ‘Because I fancy a cup of coffee.’

  ‘I don’t think he means why are you going to the kitchen, Hunter,’ I said, following them along the hallway. ‘I think he wants to know why you’re roughing him up.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ Hunter laughed. He lifted Portman off the floor with one hand and slammed him up against the kitchen counter. ‘I will explain it all very shortly.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Portman asked. He was shivering head to toe, and I was half expecting him to wet himself at any moment.

  ‘I want a cup of coffee. Go make one, black with lots of sugar. Bentley will have the same, won’t you?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Don’t give me any cheap stuff either, Portman,’ Hunter growled. He leaned his backside against the counter and never took his eyes of the reluctant host for an instant. ‘Any biscuits?’

  ‘Got a few chocolate ones …’

  ‘Don’t tell me about them. Fetch them, man.’

  Portman pulled open a cupboard above the counter and passed a tin to Hunter. His face was bone white and sweat poured from his forehead. He was surely aware of how vicious Hunter could be. He had the look of a man who knew he was about to die.

  ‘Nice,’ Hunter said as he crunched into a biscuit. ‘How’s that coffee coming along?’

  I stayed by the door to the hallway and watched the front door for any sign of trouble. I cared little for Hunter’s toying with the man. A hot cup of coffee was welcome, but I doubted I’d keep it down once the violence started. And there would be violence; Hunter was in that scary mode that made him kill people – even those who didn’t really deserve it. I was in for an eventful night by the looks of it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Master’s Identity

  ‘That’s not a bad coffee,’ Hunter said, taking the rim of the cup from his mouth. ‘Finally we’ve discovered something you’re good at.’

  ‘I’ll speak to Ballentine about this,’ Portman replied nervously. ‘He won’t like agents being roughed up. You have no right to treat me like this, Hunter.’

  ‘Ah, yes, your good friend Ballentine.’ Hunter used his psychokinesis to push Portman away from the counter and into a chair that swung out from under the table. ‘First of all, you are not an agent of the Guild of the True. You’re a walking calculator who never gets his hands dirty. Your wife is the one who could be classed as an agent.’ Hunter placed his cup on the counter and loomed over Portman. ‘Where is your wife this evening?’

  ‘I’m not telling you anything.’

  ‘Mr Portman,’ I called from the other side of the kitchen, ‘you should tell him what he wants to know. I’ve seen what happens when prisoners resist.’

  ‘Oh, so that’s what I am? A prisoner?’

  ‘I just want some information,’ Hunter said. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘I’m not saying another word.’

  ‘Pity.’

  That’s when the electrocuting started. I thought what he’d done to Brofeldt was bad. I always felt that a man should never physically hurt a woman, even in desperate times, but now I could see that Hunter had gone easy on her. The pain Portman went through for almost half an hour was sickening. Hunter wasn’t even questioning him. He just kept shocking him over and over again, and appeared to be taking great pleasure from it.

  ‘Hunter,’ I shouted. I used my gift to pull him away from his captive and to turn him towards me. ‘You’re losing control. We need answers. All you’re doing is torturing the poor man.’

  ‘Poor man? This scumbag is partly responsible for dozens of agents being killed.’

  I stepped close to him and whispered: ‘We still don’t actually know if he’s a traitor or not.’

  ‘Hmm, that’s true,’ he nodded. ‘I think you’re right. I should start quizzing him now.’

  ‘I can’t take anymore,’ Portman screamed as Hunter turned back to him. ‘Please. Bentley, I implore you to put an end to this. You’re a good lad. Don’t let this animal hurt me again.’

  ‘I can’t help you, Mr Portman. He’ll only stop when you answer his questions.’

  ‘He hasn’t asked me any questions yet!’

  ‘Here’s a question for you,’ Hunter said casually. ‘Who turned you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Listen to me, Portman. My good friends Burrows and Armitage smoked out Ballentine this morning,’ Hunter lied. ‘They killed him in a most brutal fashion. But before they did, he told them the names of the other traitors. He named you and your wife. Let’s stop messing around here. I’ve got all night to keep zapping you.’ A ball of electricity grew above Hunter’s outstretched hand. ‘Who turned you?’

  ‘Ballentine …’ Portman admitted. He winced as he said the name, as if it caused him physical pain to betray his fellow conspirator. It was followed by a sigh – seemingly one of relief. It felt like he wanted to admit his guilt, and would have done even if Hunter hadn’t roughed him up.

 
‘Now we’re making progress. You admit to being a traitor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did you turn?’

  ‘Why the bloody hell do you think? Money! Look at where I live! I bust my ass all day working and I still can’t get anywhere. The Guild make me work for them and never even pay me for expenses. I’m sick of it. I have one of the rarest gifts in all the world and I live like a slave. I’m no better than any of the other saps in the world who works a nine to five. I’m the best ink-seer on the planet! Don’t you remember the things I did for the Guild? All the times I had to break into government offices to read their files on gifted people. Thousands of pages at a time being sucked up by my mind, and then endless late nights rewriting the knowledge I’d stolen for the Guild. Half the files in the archives of the Palatium were written by me! No one even thanked me for all that! I deserved a better life than the one the Guild has given me. They promised me the moon and the stars when I signed up fifteen years ago. In all that time I never let them down, Hunter. I didn’t fail them. They failed me.’

  Hunter allowed the ball of electricity to fizzle out. I think some of Portman’s plight struck a chord with him. How could it not? Hunter lived like a pauper even though he constantly risked his life for the Guild. He had even stolen money before and hidden it from the Guild.

  ‘You didn’t have to lead such a mundane life, John,’ Hunter said. He sat on the table in front of Portman and his body language became less aggressive. ‘You could have done something else. Betraying your colleagues has cost a lot of lives.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Portman was weeping now. He slumped into the chair as if his bones had melted. ‘Ballentine gave me twenty grand in cash. He told me there would be larger payments every month. It was too late to turn back when I realised what I’d done.’

  ‘Where is your wife, John?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her in three days.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me.’

  ‘I’m not lying to you. It’s the truth. We were at the office and she said she was going out to buy some lunch for us both. Said she’d be back in twenty minutes. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Her phone is dead. None of her friends have heard from her. I don’t know if she’s run away or if she was murdered.’

  ‘She was always smarter than you,’ Hunter said, his eyebrows raised and a sympathetic grin on his lips. ‘If she did indeed run.’

  ‘I’ve always been a fool. I’ll die a fool.’

  ‘I haven’t decided to kill you yet.’

  ‘I’d rather you did. There’s no life for me now. I have destroyed my own future.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, John. Now tell me about the people Ballentine is working for.’

  ‘The shadow Guild …’ There was no more fight in Portman. It was clear by the look in his eyes that he was about to reveal everything he knew. ‘I was in before I knew who they were, Hunter. I promise you I would never have worked with them if I’d known.’

  ‘Tell me what you know.’

  ‘They’re in control of Golding Scientific. They planted one of their spies in the corporation almost two years ago. She’s a very powerful mind-switcher. Her name is Aubrey Pearson. She worked in their security division at first. After Derek Shaw was killed, she was elected to take his place, even though there were better candidates.’

  ‘She used her gift to get the job?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course she did. As soon as she was head of the division, she was real close to Golding. That’s when she started influencing him directly.’

  ‘How did she influence him?’ Hunter asked.

  ‘She didn’t take full control of him at first,’ Portman replied. ‘She used her gift to plant ideas in his head that slowly grew, so that Golding began to question his own sanity. After a time his mind became vulnerable, and that’s when Pearson performed regular mind-switches. Within weeks she was dictating important financial decisions as well as security matters. Three months ago Golding signed everything into her name in the event of his death.’

  ‘She will control the organisation when he dies,’ Hunter said. ‘Now I understand.’

  ‘He’s already dead,’ Portman said. ‘Golding has been murdered. They poisoned him two days ago.’

  Portman was not lying. I could see it in his eyes. Paul Golding had been murdered. The man who had caused me so much strife over the years was no more. I should have been jumping for joy, but I just stood there, my heart as cold as the wind that rattled the windows of the kitchen. The incident with Zalech prevented me from taking any pleasure in death – even the demise of my worst enemy.

  ‘Pearson is the one behind all this?’ I asked Portman. ‘She’s the leader? The one they call The Master?’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Hunter insisted. ‘She’s not the leader, is she, Portman?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who is it? Give me a name!’

  ‘The Master is an old friend of yours …’ Portman couldn’t bring himself to look Hunter in the eye. He stared at the floor and sucked in deep breaths as the tall Scot stood over him. ‘Remember, Hunter, if I’d known who it was I never would have considered siding with them. I would have gone straight to Sterling and told him everything.’

  ‘Who is The Master?’

  ‘It’s …’ Portman finally looked up at Hunter with glistening eyes. ‘It’s Brian Blake.’

  I thought Hunter was going to literally explode right then and there. His face went purple with rage and he struck Portman a punch that was so ferocious I felt the force of it in my gut. Brian Blake was the mysterious leader of the shadow group that was causing so much trouble. Blake was the bane of Hunter’s life. He had tracked Hunter down when he was a teenager and tried to kill him, simply because he displayed his powers in public. Hunter had survived the assassination attempt. His aunt – the only family he had – was not as fortunate. Blake had burned her alive. To make matters worse, Hunter was blamed for her death and incarcerated. He was fortunate that Peter Williams and Jonathan Atkinson were aware of his suffering and broke him out of prison. He’d been living as a ghost ever since. I could not imagine the mix of emotions he was now experiencing.

  ‘Who told you this?’ I asked Portman.

  ‘Ballentine did.’

  Hunter struck Portman again, without warning. He was about to electrocute him when I stepped in and pulled him away. Only then did I see his eyes filled with tears.

  ‘The bastard!’ he shouted. ‘I will kill him. I will kill him slowly. I will make him experience pain like no other human has ever endured.’

  Blake had gone into exile two decades ago, when Jonathan Atkinson had waged a civil war against him and his cohorts. Most of Blake’s allies had been killed. He had survived and fled, but not before a fight with one of the old Guild agents – an expert in pyrokinesis, just like Blake. It had been a titanic struggle by all accounts. Blake lost the duel and was burned beyond recognition. He did escape, despite his injuries, but most were happy with that outcome, thinking the life he would have would be a living hell. They had underestimated him. He had returned to exact his revenge on those who had overthrown him all those years before. The plot was cunning and ruthless, reflecting the man who had designed it.

  ‘Brofeldt told us that Blake planned to unite the Guild and Golding Scientific,’ I said to our captive. ‘Is that correct?’

  ‘He’s a crazed fascist,’ Portman explained. ‘He wants to merge the two organisations and to control numerous governments by using mind-switchers. He wants to be at the helm of a global superpower.’

  ‘The Guild would never allow him to rule again,’ Hunter insisted. ‘He’s a hated figure within our group. Why on earth would he believe that to be achievable?’

  ‘He claims to know a terrible secret about the Guild. I wasn’t told what it is. Ballentine knew. He believed that if Blake revealed it to the Guild members they would turn on the Council and willingly invite Blake to lead once more.’

  ‘Who knows of this secret?’ Hunter grabbed Por
tman by the lapels of his jacket and wrenched him out of the chair so that they were eye to eye. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘I don’t know, Hunter.’

  ‘Who has Blake told?’

  ‘I don’t know! He was waiting until the senior agents of the Guild were wiped out. He’s almost ready. That’s why he needed spies in the Guild. He had to get details on all the members, active, retired, trainees, moles, the lot. Once he had the likes of you out of the way and had control of Golding Scientific, he would inform all the Guild members of this secret. That’s when the whole plan would fall into place.’

  ‘I’ll do a deal with you, Portman,’ Hunter snarled. ‘Tell me where Blake is and I’ll let you live. I need to know where he is right now! You’re not a fool, John. You know what will happen if that type of power is in Blake’s hands. He’d be Hitler with an army of gifted soldiers. The world could be ruined by him. You must tell me.’

  ‘He’s only a few miles from here,’ Portman confessed. ‘In the centre of Manchester. It’s called the Imperium Building. It looks like a normal office tower from the street, but inside they use it as an experimental lab for Golding’s scientists. It’s where they rebuilt that lunatic Edward Zalech.’

  ‘Tell me more about this building.’

  ‘It’s practically empty now. They built a much larger facility on an island in the North Sea. I don’t know which one. They’ve been moving the operation to the island for weeks now. There’s only a skeleton crew left at the Imperium.’

  ‘And Blake remained?’

  ‘He’s being treated there. I don’t know what treatment it is before you ask. They planned to move him when the new labs are fully functional.’

  ‘And when will that be?’

  ‘I believe he is to be moved tomorrow morning by helicopter.’

  ‘We can be there in less than an hour,’ I said to Hunter. ‘We can put a stop to this if we can get to Blake before he’s moved.’

  ‘We’ll leave shortly,’ Hunter replied. He turned to our captive and electricity sparked around his fingers. ‘Night, night, John.’ There was a bright flash and Portman was sent jolting back into the chair before he slumped to one side, motionless.