by S. T. Boston
Lucie squinted out of the window, trying to get her bearings and some idea of how far they'd travelled. Her own reflection was all that looked back at her, bouncing off the darkened glass. Amusement brimmed at Oriyanna's very clinical answer to her question. They might look anatomically similar, but there were some vast differences between the two women.
“You need to take a road called the M3, it should be coming up anytime soon. We might have already missed it.”
“I don't recall seeing it, and I have studied every exit since I got on this…” Oriyanna paused, “motorway?”
“Good, then we should be just fine.” Lucie climbed out of the back, slid her slight frame into the passenger seat and secured the seatbelt, her feet finding another empty drink container abandoned on the floor. “Whose car is this?”
“Just before the crash, the men chasing us down swerved to avoid it, and the driver and his passenger got out to help. It was a big mistake on their part, but lucky for us.” Oriyanna offered Lucie an encouraging smile. She was pleased to have Lucie to talk to, it helped quell the memories which had plagued her thoughts since leaving the house.
They past a darkened motorway information bridge, illuminated only by their headlights. The flood lighting once used to make such signs standout had long since failed. The sign instructed them to keep left for the M3 in a few miles. “Looks like I woke up just in time,” Lucie announced, not entirely comfortable with the prospect of making the long trip in a stolen car. “Take a left at the M3 and head towards Southampton, then look for signs saying Salisbury. I wonder if Adam has made it yet?” She fished her mobile from her pocket, not surprised there was no signal. For the first time since waking the sickening worry returned; Sam was still out there somewhere.
The knowledge that they'd been watched made her feel sick, they must have known what Sam was doing, and a team of them had likely been lying in wait for him at his target's house. Lucie took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Just how long have you been on Earth?” she asked, trying to take her mind off the endless possibilities regarding what might have happened to Sam. None of them ended well in her imagination. The question seemed stupid, but it wasn't –suddenly she'd gotten an idea of what Adam and Sam, had needed to deal with when they'd first stumbled into this mess.
“I got here roughly seven months after Adam and Sam came home.”
“You've been here for nearly two years?” Lucie spat, sounding disgusted. It certainly wasn't the answer she was expecting. Oriyanna eyed her, almost appearing hurt by the outburst. “In all that time, you never once came to see my brother! Do you know how he feels about you?”
“Not a day went by when I didn't wish I could see him,” Oriyanna defended . “I had to beg the Arkkadian Council to be placed on this mission, and the one condition they insisted on was that I had no direct contact with Adam or Sam. “I have seen him,” she admitted sheepishly. “I worked out where your house was from his description of the area when we were on Arkkadia. I saw him sitting in the park one day, with his notepad and I wanted to go to him, but I couldn't. I've seen him a few times since. Every time, it's taken all my willpower to stay away from him.”
“Just what do you mean by direct contact?” Lucie demanded, ignoring the last part of Oriyanna's explanation. She hadn't listened to much past 'direct contact'. She suspected she already knew the answer to the question. “You're responsible for the target packages which arrived at our door, aren't you?”
“Please, Lucie, it was hard for us to use Sam, but it had to be done.”
“What 'us'?” Lucie snapped.
“Myself and three other Arkkadians; I did not come alone. We have been gathering intelligence for the past two years, fearful that the one who made the virus had escaped to Earth. After we arrived, we began to track and trace as many of the Earth-Breed as we could. I didn't want Sam to get involved—”
“You had a funny way of showing it,” fired Lucie, anger rippling through her body. “He's out there, right now! Likely dead – and it's your fault!” She jabbed a finger at Oriyanna, who shrunk against the door of the Juke. “If anything happens to him, or Adam… don't you think they've done enough!”
Oriyanna glided the 4x4 left and onto the M3, flying south through the cold night before she looked at Lucie; she didn't need to touch her to feel the betrayal and anger coursing through her body. “I can't change what has been,” replied Oriyanna flatly. “I had no choice, the last Watchers who lived on Earth are all dead. I brought three back with me, men who had carried out the duty before Euri Peterson, Jacques Guillard, Francis Tillard and John Remy, and now they are dead, too.”
“How so?” Lucie noticed Oriyanna's complexion, she looked drained, as if she had nothing left to give and Lucie wondered if she'd been too hard on her.
“Our base wasn't far from you, in Greenwich. They figured out where we were. Ten minutes before I arrived at your bar I was running for my life, having seen my three colleagues slaughtered.”
Lucie shook her head in disbelief, not only of the current situation but also hearing the names of the former Watchers Oriyanna had reeled off. Even two and a half years on, she still found it hard to believe. They were names that Lucie had known, even before hearing Adam and Sam's account, and the one that resonated most was John Remy, one of the most powerful and famous men on the planet. The fact that he wasn't even from this planet made her head spin.
“They'd returned to help me look for the one who was ultimately responsible for the virus, and now they're dead and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”
Oriyanna's voice sounded a little distant, and Lucie could tell she was running through whatever it was she'd witnessed, and likely not for the first time that night. Despite that, Lucie was still angry that they'd used Sam. “Sam didn't owe you anything. Just because you gave him and Adam the Gift, it didn't put them in your debt for the rest of eternity, and I don't see how you can even call it a gift. Who wants to live forever? From what I can tell, it's left you pretty lonely.” Lucie immediately felt guilty when the last few words left her mouth. She was angry, but that hit was below the belt.
“Lucie, you didn't see how badly hurt your brother and Sam were when we went through the Tabut,” Oriyanna defended, sounding hurt. Although she understood Lucie's anger she tried to defend herself. “They were both as good as dead; Adam was in the final stages of the Reaper virus, hours from death. Sam had a chest wound, and I thought…” she paused, remembering how she'd believed both men were dead when the Tabut had shut down on the Arkkadian side. “I thought they were both dead. Sam had such a severe chest wound it's a miracle he survived, and before we could apply the Gift he did die, twice. On Earth, nobody would have been able to save him. We did what we had to, to ensure they survived – after all they'd been through I couldn't leave them to die millions of miles from home.” She waited for Lucie to attack again, but all that followed was a long, pensive silence. She glanced at her new travelling companion, saw tears flowing down her cheeks.
“I'm sorry,” Lucie finally said, clearing her throat before she spoke. “I'm just so worried for Sam. I know Adam's safe, that's one thing, but I'm going crazy running through all the things that might have happened to Sam.” She gave her mobile phone a cursory glance; not surprisingly, there was no signal. “I don't blame you for wanting to use his expertise; I know he enjoys that line of work. God knows I wish he didn't. I know you didn't force him out the door.” Lucie smiled apologetically and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “By the time we reach Wiltshire, the mobile networks will be down until six AM. I just don't think I can take the worry of not knowing.”
Oriyanna reached across and placed a hand on Lucie's stomach, breathing a sigh of relief to discover the accident had done no damage. “From what I have seen of Samuel Becker,” Oriyanna smiled, “he can take care of himself. I take it he knows?”
“Knows what?” asked Lucie, looking confused.
“That he is going to be a father.”
<
br /> “I— I'm sorry?” Lucie stammered, eyes wide. “What did you say?”
“I picked up on the baby's life-force when I grabbed hold of you back at your bar. You mean to tell me you didn't know?” Lucie just gawped, eyes wide in a mixture of fear and excitement. “You're two months pregnant, Lucie; you and Sam are going to be parents.”
Chapter 16
Two hundred meters, left turn. Fifty yards, cobbled road, right turn. Laying on the back seat of the X5, cuffed and with his legs bound, Sam tried to record the journey in his head. Using what little he could discern from the restricted view through the dark tinted windows he tried to imprint it into his brain. It was how he'd been trained to deal with kidnap situations during his time in the army, then a second, very similar course when he'd gone back to the Middle East on close protection work. The rule was, try to remember how far you'd been taken from the point of capture, what direction you'd travelled and for how long. Any recalled smells or sounds could mean the difference between life and death, being found or being beheaded on some fanatic's internet broadcast. Sam never imagined it would be a skill he'd put to use, it had been years since he'd practised the art. Practical training was the only way to prepare for such situations, it wasn't a skill-set which could be gleaned in the lecture room.
“So – you're the infamous Samuel Becker.” The mocking voice of one of his captors came from the front seat. “I don't see what all the fuss was about; you weren't that hard to capture.” His sarcastic tone made Sam's blood boil.
“It's not over 'til the fat lady sings!” croaked Sam, his throat impossibly dry. He jiggled his wrists behind his back, uselessly trying to stop the metal from biting further into his skin.
“An Earth phrase which means nothing to me.” Sam had heard that particular accent before, the voice was frighteningly similar to that of Buer, the man-mountain who'd gunned him down, deep below the Pyramid. Had he not known beyond a doubt that the man who'd masterminded The Reaper was long dead, he could have mistaken this voice for the evil bastard.
“It means as soon as I get chance, I'm going to kick your fucking arse.” Sam chuckled, and rolled to one side, finding a position that for a few seconds, was a little more comfortable.
“I doubt that very much,” Sam could see the back of the passenger's head, it shook slightly when he spoke. “Don't worry, Mr. Becker, we are not here to kill you – although in a day or two, once you have seen what we are doing here, you are going to wish we had.”
Three hundred yards… Sam realised he'd lost his train of thought; the conversation had taken him off guard. Not that it mattered a jot, he had a feeling there was no escaping this one, not yet. They didn't plan to kill him, he was being taken somewhere, to someone. What was it Laurett had said? He is here, he has plans for you – E-N-O-L-A, Sam cursed himself for the cold chill that ran though his body on remembering the wretched Earth-Breed's words. The important thing was that every hour, minute and second he stayed alive, gave him a chance. One had come back in the police station and he'd grabbed it, and he would sure as shit do the same if the opportunity presented itself again. “I look forward to well and truly fucking up whatever it is you have planned this time,” he half-laughed and half-croaked. The passenger thrust his fist backwards, finding Sam's gut and, not for the first time that evening, winded him to gasping point. “Bit – of – a sore point?” he chuckled, gasping for air and simultaneously trying not to choke on the words. Despite how much the punch had hurt, he felt a warm glow at having touched a raw nerve.
“For a man facing a rather dreadful fate, you are far too full of yourself,” the driver spat, glancing at him through the rear-view mirror.
“Maybe,” Sam replied, searching for a little comfort; his former position had already started to make his arms ache again. “I'd say it's more of a strong dislike for your kind. Hopefully later, I'll have the pleasure of killing you, just like I did Finch and the other Earth-Breeds.”
“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Becker, I can assure you of that,” the driver's voice mocked. “Just don't get your hopes up too much about the second part of your statement. Finch was a fucking idiot.”
“That's one thing we agree on,” Sam muttered under his breath.
“Buer should never have been entrusted to see things through on his own, with a bunch of lab-bred half-wits. We won't be making the same mistakes again,” the guy concluded, as if hadn't heard Sam's comment.
“So – as we're going to spend some time in each other's company, how about you tell me your names?”
“My name is Asag, and this is my brother, Namtar,” Asag replied proudly from the passenger seat, as if the names should mean something to Sam.
Definitely Elders, thought Sam, with a chill of foreboding. “Don't you have something a little easier to remember,” he coaxed, trying to keep up his show of confidence. “Like Brian and Bob?” The two brothers ignored his statement, not even casting a glance in the rear-view mirror.
“Just what do you have in mind for me, then?” Sam could hear anger brewing in his voice, but behind that confident and cocky façade he was scared, scared for Lucie, Adam and lastly himself. He'd learned to trust his gut and he knew deep down, no matter how much he tried to tell himself it was silly, that tonight's events were probably engulfing Adam and possibly, even Lucie. The thought of her being drawn into this mess enraged him. “I take it that it's not just me this guy wants.”
“Very intuitive, Mr. Becker.” Asag twisted around in his seat and set his stony eyes on Sam. They were ancient eyes, and momentarily Sam wondered what sights they'd seen over the years. “I wouldn't worry too much about Adam and your pretty little wife, Lucie – you will be seeing them very soon.”
Sam pulled hard on the cuffs, almost oblivious to the pain. “If you harm either of them—”
“As I said, no one is harming anyone – for now!” Asag cut in, letting the last words hang for impact. “We are merely on a fetch and retrieve mission, just like my colleagues across the channel.” He gestured to his left, in the general direction of the English coast. “But don't be so vain as to think this is all about you!” Asag emphasised the all, letting it roll off his tongue. “We thought it only fitting that before you die, you witness our victory, and you die knowing that despite all you went through with that bitch Oriyanna, you failed.” Asag paused and cleared his throat, as if speaking her name had left him with a nasty taste in his mouth.
He returned his captivating gaze to Sam's aching body, and Sam could almost feel his presence bearing down on him, putting pressure on his brain. He continued to watch Sam for a few more moments, and Sam could see the enjoyment in his eyes at the sight of him, laying there, bound, cuffed and well and truly stuffed. “Humanity has been a cancer on this planet for too long,” Asag finally continued. “A cancer created by my ancestors and wrongly nurtured by the Arkkadians after the war. A cancer which will soon be eradicated, unfortunately, along with the planet. For a good few thousand years anyway. It's a shame; if we'd succeeded the first time, the planet would have merely been washed clean of humanity – sadly, now we don't have the same options.” Asag smiled, revealing unnaturally white teeth. It seemed that out of the two, he was the one who enjoyed the sound of his own voice most. “Oh, don't worry, Mr. Becker,” he added, seeing the confusion on Sam's face, “It will all become clear, very soon.”
* * *
Inspector Ackhart gunned his Renault Mégane down Rue Clement Marical. At the Carrefour Market roundabout, he threw the car right on the Rue Irène Joliot Cure, nearly losing the rear end as the tyres screamed in protest against the roughly cobbled street, desperately searching for grip.
Post-curfew Le Havre was a ghost town, desolate and dark, quiet and ghostly. A person out at this time of night could easily have been mistaken in thinking the Reaper had killed everyone. With its residents safely in their homes, the streets seemed to take on a life of their own. Ackhart rarely ventured out, even though his position within the police force permitted him
to wander the streets during duty time. He hated the deserted sensation that flowed through the city he loved. Flying through the empty streets made him feel as if he were stuck in a nightmare, fleeing some invisible foe which would reach out and strike him down at any moment. Engine screaming, his headlights sliced through the night, reflecting from the off-white walls of the buildings, making Ackhart squint and curse his failing eyesight. The situation was not helped in the least by the throbbing and swollen eye Becker had dealt him back at the station.
In his head, he ran through what might happen when he got to Le Havre airport, although in truth, he didn't know. How many of them would there be? And who the hell were they? He didn't believe for a second that Becker had told him the truth – did he? Protocol stated he should have a tactical unit back him up – hell any form of backup would be good – but this job didn't fall into protocol, this was his cock up and his alone, and it needed to be put right. Also, something about the whole situation didn't sit right. He needed to get to the bottom of it, and hopefully take Becker back into custody, saving his career and his reputation at the same time.
Weaving down the street, aiming the car along the narrow straight road he fumbled in his jacket, checking for the umpteenth time that his gun was there. The heavy, reassuring lump that was his SP 2022 met his hand. In the brief seconds he had his hand away from the wheel, the Renault hit a pothole and it pitched dangerously to the left. The front tyre found the kerb, shaking the car violently and forcing Ackhart to grab the steering wheel with both hands. Cursing under his breath, he got the car under control, and briefly he longed for the bottle of brandy sitting in his desk drawer. He quashed down the craving; there would be time for that later if things didn't work out, or if he even had the luxury of having a later. The men who'd taken Becker had been huge and there was only one of him. He reached for the SP again; no matter how big the men who'd taken his prisoner were, the gun would deal with them without discrimination . If it came to it, he might be able to use Becker, sure he'd jump at the chance of being taken back to the station. He'd seen the fear and desperation in his eyes when the two massive, supposed FBI agents had hauled him out of the custody block, a look which had sent a chill through Ackhart's body. But why? He didn't believe Becker's account, not one detail of it – did he?
