‘That Pittsfield girl. It’s been twelve days now and still no sign of her.’ Josh eased a tired sigh. ‘And now there’s been another just six miles away, missing two days now.’
‘Same age range?
‘Yeah. Just a year older.’
Ellis looked back through the glass window, and after a moment Josh joined him in surveying the class.
‘Reckon we stand a chance?’ Josh said. ‘Putting this bunch of kids with 'special gifts' up against the worst murderers and criminals this country
has to offer. Or are we just throwing them to the wolves?’
Ellis didn't answer, just continued staring thoughtfully through the window at this class full of kids he might be sending one-by-one to their deaths.
That thought was still heavy on Ellis's mind at home that night. He and Carla were at the coffee table sharing an after-dinner brandy. Meanwhile Santos had taken over the dining table to finish his homework.
Ellis looked down as he swirled his brandy in its balloon. ‘Sorry about that incident at the school the other day. But it's the one line I said I'd never see crossed: my work posing any threat to my family.’
Carla gently touched his brow, smiled tightly. ‘I understand.’
Carla knew that he worked for a special FBI unit. But all he’d ever explained about what made it ‘special’ was that he worked protecting vulnerable groups of people, including children. Strict secrecy rules precluded him going into detail beyond that. He remained pensive.
‘But a question: How would you feel if someone was lying to you about Santos. Telling you he had an ailment which he didn't in fact have.’ He glanced back at Santos. ‘But they were doing it to protect him from danger.’
‘What sort of ailment?’
‘It doesn't matter. Purely hypothetical. But not life threatening.’
‘And is this danger worse than the ailment?’
‘Yeah. As I say, the ailment's not serious or life-threatening. But the danger, if he's not protected from it, is.’
Carla looked down for a moment, pursed her lips. ‘Sort of a means to an end?’
‘Yeah, yeah. A means to an end.’ Ellis liked that term.
Carla took a swill of brandy and sunk into thought again.
‘Then while I wouldn't be happy about being lied to – in the end I think I'd look upon it as the lesser of two evils. And so I'd comfort myself with that.’
Ellis nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. The lesser of two evils... lesser of two evils.’ He rolled it round his tongue, wondering if that term too sat well with him, might salve his conscience.
SIXTEEN
The Scan Bus drifted steadily through the city street. Their third day with a full compliment of pupils on board the Scan Bus, Josh Eskovitz and another operator surveyed the screens while Ellis Kendell and Professor Mentinck fielded questions.
A boy near the front raised his hand. ‘All of us here in the class are teens, the oldest maybe twenty. Where are the older 'watchers' – or the younger?’
‘This ability to pick up demon auras develops when you're maybe twelve, approaching puberty,’ Ellis said. ‘Then fades when you're fully adult. So it appears somehow hormonal linked.’
‘Somewhat like children who have life regression recall,’ Mentinck added. ‘Normally it's gone by the time they're ten. Some of these things have a limited time span.’
Ryan and Jessica were halfway back. Ryan held a hand towards the group as he looked back at Mentinck.
‘And is this it – just us here?’
‘No,’ Ellis Kendell answered; internal stats were his department. ‘Between this and the other classes here, there are a hundred and eighty in this school. And while we’re the main hub, there’s another eight schools across the country. Worldwide, almost forty. Though all the –’
Ellis broke off as he picked up on a babble of excitement by the screens. Josh Eskovitz waved him over.
‘Ellis. Looks like we might have a big one!’
Ellis hustled over and looked at the screens. A fifteen year-old girl close by pointed to the screen where she'd picked up the apparition.
‘Here. This person – here!
Josh Eskovitz manipulated the controls and zoomed in on the figure. Purely a grey-green shade to himself and the other operator, but the Blind School pupils could now also pick out the brighter purple-tinged demon swirling within it. Josh glanced up at Ellis.
‘Looks about four blocks away.’
‘Okay. Move in!’ Ellis lifted his voice so that the driver could hear him.
The bus lurched as it picked up speed, swinging into the next turn sharply. Josh did a final lock-in on screen so that they didn’t lose the figure, and they watched intently as the bus moved closer towards it.
Frank Lyle studied the bolts he’d just bought as he came out the hardware store. The last girl had banged and kicked the coffin lid so hard she’d managed to raise it a few inches. He couldn’t have that happening again.
They looked strong enough, should do the trick. He slipped the bolts back in their bag and got in his black van. He started up and pulled out.
Inside the Scan Bus, Josh leant forward, examining the shape closer to make sure.
‘They're on the move,’ he announced.
‘Which direction?’ Ellis pressed.
‘Uh... north-east. Away from us.’
Ellis looked frantically at the screen, then to the driver: ‘Let's move it! We don't want to lose them!’
A stronger lurch as the bus picked up speed, the pupils hanging on. It swung hard into the next turn, started to fishtail. Two oncoming cars swerved and beeped before the bus righted again.
Josh looked back at the screen. The figure seemed to be static again.
A block ahead, Lyle was caught in slow moving traffic, braking as the lights ahead changed to red.
He switched on the radio. Started humming along to some country music playing. Then his face dropped as he saw the bus swinging round the corner behind him.
He looked frantically at the lights, tapping his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. The bus was only sixty yards behind him now and fast closing in.
Finally the lights changed. He swung wildly round the car ahead, cut in front of another, and floored it.
Josh Eskovitz studied the movement of screen, picked out the vehicle.
‘Six vehicles down – One O'clock.’
Ellis moved down the bus and hung over the driver's shoulder, saw Lyle’s van accelerating fast through the traffic.
‘Something's lit a fire under him.’
Hot pursuit. The bus weaved and swerved through the busy street. But it didn't have the same manoeuvrability. It knocked the wing mirror off one car, clipped the wing of another.
Ellis peered ahead, trying to see the van's registration plate – but there were too many cars in between.
Lyle’s eyes darted frantically to his rear-view mirror. He swung hard into the next turn and accelerated out – didn't see the oncoming car until too late: he swung back, but the oncoming woman overcompensated, swerved too wildly. Her car tipped onto its side and careened into a lamppost.
Lyle looked at it briefly in his rear-view mirror: hood flying, steam and flames leaping out.
The bus swung into the same turn a hundred yards behind him. They lost the back end almost completely this time: it sideswiped two parked cars before correcting and accelerating.
Ellis looked with concern at the mayhem. ‘He's gaining on us. Keep on him.’
The driver grimaced. The limitations were clear to both of them as he swung the heavy bus through the traffic.
Horns blared, cars swerved out the way in between, some colliding. Ahead, Ellis watched Lyle's van swing into another turn.
Lyle frantically scanned for options in the fresh street. He needed to lose them, and it seemed that on the turns the bus had more trouble swinging round, lost pace. Left and right-hand turn just ahead. He decided on the right turn, swung into it.
The bus sc
reeched into the same turn, its back-end swing narrowly missing another car. But they couldn't see the van ahead. Ellis and the driver's eyes frantically darted.
‘We’ve lost direct visual,’ Ellis shouted back at Josh Eskovitz.
Josh studied his screen intently, finally picked up the grey-green glow.
‘Next right – heading west.’
The bus sped up again. But with the pause, they'd lost vital seconds; and as they approached the turn, an oncoming truck blasted its air-horn.
They were forced to wait, Ellis chewing anxiously at his lip as he watched it pass.
As the bus swung in, he could see that Lyle's van was already at the end of the street, making another turn off.
Ellis put a hand on the driver's shoulder.
‘It's okay. We're not going to catch them now. You did your best.’
The bus slowed and pulled into the side.
Josh looked round, his expression taut. ‘Strange how they put on a sudden spurt. Almost like they knew we were on to them.’
‘Yeah.’ Contemplative for a second, Ellis looked towards the pupils, still shell-shocked from the chase. ‘Okay. We know from the apparition's brightness that we're dealing with a level nine or ten demon. But can someone describe it to the sketch artist so we know which one?’
A few nods and murmurs of assent, but Jessica’s shock appeared to run deeper; she stared emptily ahead for a moment before answering.
‘I know who it was,’ she said. In that moment she’d again got the flashback of the apparition across the road-junction from her school, but this time clear enough to match with one of Mentinck’s holo-pod examples. ‘It was Abaddon – Angel of the bottomless pit.’
SEVENTEEN
At home that evening, Ryan tried to read the cooking instructions on a pizza box in the kitchen. But with the size of the print and his dark glasses, he was having trouble seeing clearly.
He lifted the glasses and was mumbling the instructions under his breath – when his mom walked in.
‘I thought the light hurt your eyes?’ she commented. Then, more hopefully: ‘Or maybe it's not as bad as this clinic you go to thinks?’
Ryan grimaced, put the glasses back on. ‘Trust me. If I kept them off any length of time, it'd start hurting.’ He squinted up. ‘Or maybe this fluorescent light isn't as harsh as sunlight.’
‘Maybe.’ Her gaze stayed on him for a moment.
Ryan now had his 'Goth' disguise – black spiky hair and an earring – so he wasn’t sure whether his mom's look was her adjusting to that, or one of doubt.
With a tight smile, she headed out.
His gaze lingered after her, hoping that he'd covered okay. Ellis had warned them to keep the glasses on at all times. He’d have to be more careful in future.
‘You're not going to go blind or anything?’ Tommy squinted at him.
Ryan shook his head, smiled crookedly. ‘Don't you start with that shit.
Had enough with having to explain it ten times over to my parents.’
‘Sorry.’
They were in the schoolyard and stared absently ahead for a moment at a few people playing mitt-catch with a baseball.
Suddenly, Brad Milford and two of his pals, Stevie and Jed, were in front of them. They’d been distracted by the baseball, and Milford’s crew had approached from the other side.
‘Hey, hey... Rawl-ton-ton!’ Milton greeted in a sing-song voice.
Tommy rolled his eyes. Shorter than average and tubby, if he had a cent for each time he’d heard that; the jibes were now well past their sell-by-date.
Milford pushed a hand out. ‘Ready to buy that Sim card yet?’
‘Told you before – not interested.’ Tommy shrugged. ‘Probably stolen anyway.’
‘Well, whoopee-doo. He ain't just the fat dummy he looks.’
‘He's a fast learner,’ Jed chimed in.
‘But right now I think you might have a special interest in a Sim card.’ Milford smiled, and his pals backed up with sly grins.
As the shoe dropped, Tommy stood up and checked his cell-phone: it didn't work. Its Sim card has gone.
‘You puta's ass-wipe!’
Milford’s smile as quickly disappeared. He moved in, yanked Tommy up by his T-shirt.
‘Enough with the barrio jibe. Just splash the fuckin' cash.’
Ryan saw red. Maybe Milford’s constant picking on Tommy, maybe the strain of the past days at Blind School – he suddenly snapped. He jumped up and pushed Milford off Tommy.
‘Leave him alone, shit-brain! Go find some other mug to sting.’
Milford quickly recovered, leapt back and punched out – hit Ryan below one eye, sending his sunglasses flying.
Ryan lunged back, caught Milford a glancing blow on the chin. And as they grappled and Milford's pals moved in, a teacher forty yards away caught sight of them.
‘Hey – you two!’ he shouted their way. ‘Break it up!’
Milford stepped back; reluctantly. Ryan picked up his sunglasses.
‘What's with the dark glasses?’ Milford asked, and Ryan gave him a cramped smile.
‘I read in 'Maxim' that girls thought guys in dark glasses were 'cool'. They got lucky more.’
Milford took in Ryan's spiky hair for the first time.
‘Not looking like that you won't.’ Shaking his head, Milford moved off, Stevie and Jed in tow. ‘Catch ya later, ton-ton.’
‘Four-eighty-... five hundred.’ The car-breaker counted the last twenty dollars into Frank Lyle’s hand. ‘We all square?’
‘Yeah. Reckon we are.’
The breaker nodded to his operator by the crusher, and its sides started to press in on Lyle’s black van.
Lyle stayed and watched until it was a mangled, unrecognizable mess. He’d taken two hundred light on the deal to have no registration listed, so the last thing he wanted was any of it left intact and parts sold which could then be traced.
He jumped on a city bus a half mile from the breakers yard and within forty minutes was appraising a similar van with tinted windows in a car lot, this time in grey.
The black van with tinted windows drifted steadily through the city streets.
An FBI agent was at the wheel while another in the back of the van viewed a bank of monitors, one of which showed Alex Culverton's black limousine three cars ahead.
As they watched the limousine screech off from the next set of lights and pick up speed, the driver remarked:
‘Looks like he's in a hurry to get somewhere.’
In turn his voice and the van monitors fed through to a central FBI control room, where an operator with the same view responded:
‘ Stay with him. Could be a key meeting.’
‘Okay. Read you.’
But then they watched the limo ahead suddenly put on another spurt.
The agent floored it, swung out from a slowed car in front, swerved to miss another – he sped through the next lights just after they turned red.
‘Oh... shiiiit!’
The other side, the limo swung sharply into the next turn, and he followed – weaving and zipping through traffic now.
He saw Culverton’s driver glance in his rear-view mirror just before he swung sharply into the next turn.
Touching sixty, his heart was in his mouth as he saw the lights just ahead of Culverton turning red. Point of no return – he knew he’d lose them if he braked.
They flashed by one car crossing, horns blaring from all around – but the approaching truck was another matter.
Its driver saw them, eyes wide in alarm as he braked and fought to swerve – but too late.
The truck hit them broadside with a bang, and suddenly they were spinning, monitors crashing down, a blizzard of glass swirling past them before settling.
In the FBI central operations room, the sound of the crash had reached them, but the monitor screens were now dead.
‘You okay... you okay?’ the operator asked.
The driver and the agent in the back sl
owly stirred. Bloodied but still alive. The monitoring agent’s headset had come off, was now on the floor two yards away.
He squinted one eye at the tinny voice coming over it: 'You okay... you okay?' Annoying.
EIGHTEEN
Jessica Werner waited on the gurney in the Blind School lab as Ellis Kendell conferred with the clinic doctor. Kendell gave a final nod, as if to confirm he had the procedure clear, then turned to Jessica.
‘Now if you manage to talk your mother out of this appointment with your doctor – put her mind at ease through our clinic here – great.’
‘Okay, yeah. I'll give that another shot.’
‘But if not, at least there's a contingency plan.’ Ellis looked at the doctor, who held up a pill bottle.
‘Take two of these three hours before the appointment: these will give
blood and urine markers consistent with hemeralopia.’ He then held up an eye-drop bottle. ‘And a drop of this in each eye just an hour beforehand. These will give the right dilation level – and the light will in fact hurt your eyes for a while.’
‘Yes. Okay.’ Jessica looked between the two bottles, hoping she’d got the instructions clear.
Alex Culverton's limousine was parked in a deserted warehouse district, shadows heavy in the fast fading dusk light.
A grey car pulled up behind and a dark-suited man got out.
An FBI agent, despite being a deserted area he fired an anxious glance around as he approached Culverton's limousine. Alex Culverton and Coby were sat in the front, so he slid into its back seat.
Alex appraised him for second in his rear-view mirror.
‘So, what news? What have you been able to find out about this teen
kid?’
Alex’s voice fed through a speaker grill to the back. The FBI agent was fazed by it for a second, finding it odd that Alex had chosen to stay in the front by his driver. Last time they’d met they’d sat in the back of the limousine together. Thick plate glass separated them.
Blind School Page 8
