The Hidden Eye

by Oliver Davies

  “So you think it had something to do with his work?” That would confirm Eleanor’s theory. “Not the Loch Ness Monster?”

  “I mean I assume so,” the Kraken said with a little laugh. “The Loch Ness Monster isn’t real, after all.”

  “That’s what I said,” I agreed. “You hacked Far Reach Industries once. Why?”

  But the Kraken tapped her nose and shook her head. “Trade secrets.”

  “Please just tell me,” I said, a bite of frustration in my voice as I clenched my fists by my side. I backed away, headed back for my spot by the door, needing to get away from the cloud of cigarette smoke that lingered all around the Kraken. “Maybe it has something to do with why my father left.”

  “It was years before Alasdair came to me,” the Kraken insisted. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t just tell me.

  “But it might still be related,” I pushed. I wasn’t ready to let this one go.

  The Kraken looked deep into my face, studying the rather desperate expression there. “You promise you’re not going to rat on me? I’m retired after all. That was a long time ago.”

  I held my hand to my heart. “It’ll stay between us.”

  As the Kraken opened her mouth to explain, I caught a flash of movement on the security footage behind her. My brow furrowed for just a second--I figured it was just a bird or something--but then there was the sound of shattering glass on the houseboat’s deck. The Kraken snapped her mouth shut, and she spun her chair around, peering into the monitor. From the camera’s stationary angle, all looked quiet outside.

  “It was probably just some young lads,” I said, but the camera also caught part of the street, and it was deserted.

  “Someone followed you,” the Kraken said.

  “Who?” I demanded. “I didn’t even know I was coming here until I got your email.”

  “They must be watching you then.” She stood up sharply, seizing a large duffel off the floor that she began to fill the stuff on the desktop and in her drawers.

  “Who the hell is ‘they?’” I threw up my hands, unable to believe that this was happening right as she was about to give me some answers. Maybe the Kraken had even engineered this to avoid telling me anything useful.

  “I don’t know.” In two steps, the Kraken had crossed the space between us to grab my shoulders, shaking me as she stared right into my face, her wrinkles deep and worried. “Are you listening? I don’t know who. They’re so good, so powerful that they’ve eluded even me. We need to get out of here. This place is burnt.”

  She released me and went back to stuffing her bag. I sniffed, trying to clear my nose of her cigarette stench, but the smell of smoke wouldn’t go away. “Do you… smell smoke?” I asked, and the Kraken froze in her tracks to take a deep breath.

  We cursed at the same time, and I spun around, lunging at the doorknob which was already warm to the touch. I yanked the door open, and thick, acrid smoke billowed into the room, blinding me and burning my throat as I caught my breath. I staggered back, coughing and blinking to clear my vision.

  Flames licked through the cracks around the uneven front door, grasping hungrily at the peeling wallpaper as they forced their way inside. It was just as hot in the empty sitting room as it was in Kraken’s soundproofed space and getting hotter. I glanced at the security monitor again, but it showed only crackling fire and dark smoke. I’d hoped the damp wood would burn slower, but it was clear that an accelerant had been used.

  I threw my coat back on, hoping it would provide a little extra protection against the fire before I dropped to my belly, the air a little clearer down by the floor, and army-crawled from the room, staying as far away from the front door and its wreath of flames as I could. I edged my way towards the boarded-up window at the back of the boat. I didn’t know what the Kraken was doing, but if she didn’t follow me soon, she was going to wind up caught inside with her computers. I pulled my shirt up over my nose before I stood and began to yank at the boards nailed over the window. They were jammed in there tightly, and I grunted with the effort, eyes burning in the smoke, splinters jabbing at my fingers.

  I cast around for a crowbar or something I could use to gain more leverage against these boards, but there was nothing lying around, so I dug my fingers deeper into the cracks between the boards, planted one boot against the wall, and heaved as hard as I could. The nails creaked, groaned, and then gave way, and I tumbled back, falling to the floor with a heavy thump that knocked the air from my lungs, heat searing the back of my neck. I scrambled away, towards the puff of fresh heat that had rushed into the room, the stench of burnt hair wafting around my head.

  “Kraken!” I yelled and immediately began to cough. “Let’s go!”

  The fire had reached the doorway into the Kraken’s soundproof office. It would burn quickly in there, gobbling up the insulation plastered to the walls, the air turning poisonous as the plastic began to melt. The Kraken’s shadow appeared, hesitated when she saw the flames, and then she leapt through the doorway, nearly overbalancing as the bulging duffel shifted in her arms.

  One more plank remained across the window, and the Kraken dropped the bag to help me pry it out of place. Smoke filled the room completely, and the searing heat was a constant presence at my back, the crackle of the flames a constant ripple in my ears, moving ever closer, growing ever stronger.

  The plank came free of the windowsill with a great tearing sound, and I used my baton to smash out the glass, knocking the leftover jagged bits free as best I could. The Kraken grabbed a blanket out from under the plastic atop a chair and slung it over the bottom of the sill so we could climb out without slashing ourselves to pieces.

  “Go!” I ordered and motioned for her to go first.

  The Kraken glanced at me, preparing a protest, and then glanced over my shoulder at the growing inferno behind me. The flames were reflected in her eyes, turning the pupils into swirling orbs. She stuffed her duffle through as best she could, catching the sides on a few bits of glass and tearing the fabric, and with one final shove, it tumbled free and landed with a splash. Then she folded her bony frame through the opening, hood thrown up to protect her head. I helped her balance, and then she half-dove, half-fell into the water.

  I checked behind me. I knew there was no time, but I had to. The fire was right before my eyes, consuming the walls and ceiling, inching ever closer to my small square to safety. I thought I saw a shadow pass before the door, but it was gone in an instant, no doubt just a trick of the light and smoke.

  I climbed out the window backwards, stuffing my head and torso through and then hopping up to rest my hips on the sill, the bits of leftover glass poking through the blanket and into my coat. I barely fit, shoulders scraping the wood as I forced them through, and I braced my hands on the hot outside wall of the houseboat as I pulled my legs up and levered them through.

  I let myself fall back, curling into a ball to protect as much of myself as I could just in case the water was shallow, my stomach lunging up my throat as I slipped through the air. I hit the water with a great splash and sank like a stone, my heavy coat dragging me down, down, down. I couldn’t open my eyes in the salt water, but I unfurled my body and kicked out with my legs, aiming for what I hoped was up.

  I broke the surface a moment later, and heat immediately scorched my face. I opened my eyes and realized I was far too close to the burning houseboat for comfort. Flames licked out the broken window as I backpedalled, arms and legs churning as I drove myself away from the fire. I couldn’t see the Kraken anywhere. The sun glittered on the water, though it seemed wrong that something like this should be happening in the middle of the afternoon.

  “Kraken?” I called but got a mouthful of ocean for my efforts.

  I trod water and looked around. The houseboat belched smoke into the sky. Any second now, someone was going to see it and call the fire brigade. I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted to be around when they arrived. That paranoid part of my brain was screaming th
at I shouldn’t be tied to this.

  The Kraken burst out of the water just then, struggling to hold onto her black duffel as she panted and spluttered, choking as a wave splashed her face. A gunshot shattered the air, the bullet splitting the water right between us. My head snapped round, searching for the shooter, but smoke from the fire obscured most of the shore. Obviously, they could still see us, though. That meant they were probably up high somewhere.

  “Split up,” the Kraken said. “Get out of here. Don’t try to find me again.”

  “But--” I began, but another gunshot rang out, and something slammed into the Kraken, spinning her around. She cried out and dipped beneath the waves as blood began to stain the water around her. I started to swim towards her, but she held up a hand, warding me off, ducking behind her duffel. A third bullet sliced through the bag just an inch from her arm.

  “I’m fine. Go!” she ordered, and she dove beneath the waves, still holding onto the strap of the duffel as it bobbed along behind her.

  I stared after her, wondering if I should follow, but she had made it very clear she didn’t want me to, and I would only put us both in more danger if I did. The next shot hit the water close enough that I could see the divet it made as it carved a path into the ocean, and that made the decision for me. I spun around and dove, letting my heavy coat and boots carry me down faster. The water wasn’t very deep here, but there was enough of a drop off just past the private dock that I could get down far enough to obscure my shape in shadow.

  My ears ached as I kicked for shore, moving in an arc around the flaming houseboat which shimmered across the surface of the water. I needed to get to land and somehow make it to my car without getting shot, but I had absolutely no idea how to do that. I conjured up a picture of the shoreline as best I could as my lungs began to burn a little. It was hard work, swimming fully clothed.

  I thought I’d seen a cluster of large rocks on a little scrap of beach not far from the houseboat. If I could breach close enough to them, I could make a run for cover before the shooter realized I was out of the water. Unfortunately, that was a big if, but it was also the only idea I had, so once I thought I’d cut to the side far enough, I turned towards shore.

  My lungs were really starting to hurt as I carved a line into shallower waters, my throat jumping and hitching as it demanded that I take a breath, but I fought the pain down. Just a little further, after all. My stomach scraped the rocky bottom, and I pushed myself along with my hands as black spots danced before my vision. Soon, it became too shallow to keep on swimming, so I bunched myself up, drove my feet into the ground, and shot upright, water spraying in every direction. I took a deep, shuddering breath even as I was already dashing forward, lights splashing across my eyes at the sudden shock. I lifted my knees high and forced them to churn as fast as they could, the water dragging at each step, the rocks rolling beneath my boots, threatening to yank my feet out from under me.

  As my vision cleared, I spotted the pile of boulders. I’d swum out too far, and I had to curve back towards the houseboat. The shallower the water grew, the easier it was to run, and soon, I was dashing across the beach, just waiting for the next gunshot to wreck the air. I threw myself to the ground and slid, knees first, towards cover, rolling the last few feet until I was safely hidden behind the boulders. They were smaller than I’d thought, and I had to lie flat to hide behind them.

  I paused there to listen, but for a long moment, all I could hear was the throbbing rush of my breath and the thunder of my heart in my ears. I couldn’t calm either of them, and my muscles trembled from exertion and adrenaline.

  I scooted forward and carefully poked my head out from behind the boulders, craning my neck to try and spot my car. The ground sloped upwards just enough that all I could see was the low fence at the top, blocking the tiny, not-really-a-beach off from the road. I knew I’d parked right across from the houseboat, so I could probably make a beeline towards it, assuming my tyres weren’t slashed and there was nobody waiting for me. I wondered where the Kraken was, if she’d made it to shore, how badly she was hurt, but I had to worry more about myself for the moment. She probably had a billion contingency plans for this sort of thing. She would be fine.

  I screwed up my courage and prepared to make a run for my car. I had no idea where the shooter was, but it wouldn’t be all that hard for them to spot me as I sprinted across the open ground. My only advantage was the thick, black smoke still billowing off the houseboat, obscuring much of the area around it. If I could stay within that as long as possible, I might have a chance.

  I drew my knees under me. Water dripped off my clothes, soaking the rocks and sand beneath me, and I shivered as the wind twirled around me. Time seemed to have slowed, and the pounding in my ears grew louder and louder until it drowned out every other sound in the world. I focused on it and found that it calmed the churning fear within my stomach. I used it to countdown from five, and then I flung myself away from the stones and started to run.

  Water sloshed within my boots. I noticed that even though I should have been wholly focused on the race to my car. Time was still slow, allowing me to take note of the water in my boots, the drips running down my neck, the way the flames arched towards the sky, surrounded by their lover, the smoke. I could hear the wail of sirens, but the sound was dim and distant, almost impossible to pick out over the roar of my heart.

  The smoke swirled around me. I could taste it in the back of my throat, but I couldn’t hold my breath again. They still ached after the frantic push through the water. I struggled against the cough building in my throat, the sensitive flesh there burned raw by the smoke and the heavy rasp of my breath. My eyes stung, tears blurring my vision, but my dark cover only lasted a few seconds before I burst out the other side, racing towards the low fence and the road beyond.

  A shot snapped off just as soon as I appeared, as if the unseen assailant had been expecting me, and I flinched as a stone shattered not three feet from me.

  Don’t run in a straight line, I thought, and though I didn’t want to prolong the time I spent out in the open, I changed up my route, dodging from side to side as randomly as I could. I slapped one hand against the rough stone of the low fence and leapt over, the wet ends of my coat dragging rather than flapping like they usually would, and they tangled around my legs, almost spilling me to the ground. I caught my balance but lost most of it, and the next bullet splintered the pavement just in front of me.

  They were going to have a hell of a time figuring out what had happened here. A giggle bubbled in my throat at the thought, a delirious cast to its edges, but I choked it back and zeroed in on my car, just a few short metres away now.

  God, what if my keys had fallen out of my pocket? I struggled to stuff one hand into my coat without losing speed, relieved when my fingers closed around the cool plastic of my key fob, and I drew it out, clicking the button to unlock the doors, praying desperately that the shooter wouldn’t decide to aim at my car.

  I slammed into the door and tried to open it with all my weight still leaned against it. It took all my strength to force myself to step back and then open the door. I threw myself inside, landing sideways across both seats, head ducked in case the shooter tried to take another crack at me, the gear stick digging into my ribs, my calves dangling out the door. From that position, I stabbed the keys into the ignition, but I awkwardly drew one leg into the car to push the clutch down so I could actually start the car.

  I huffed out a breath and then sat up, head still ducked against the bullet I knew had to be coming. My foot slipped off the clutch, and the car stalled, lurching forward so I smacked my head against the steering wheel. I slammed the door shut and twisted the key again, the engine roaring to life. I didn’t bother with the seatbelt as I hit the accelerator, letting out the clutch just a little too fast so that the car jerked but thankfully didn’t stall. I screeched painfully away, shooting around the first turn I found, jamming the accelerator towards the floor. I could se
e the burning houseboat in my rear view mirror, the smoke crawling ever higher into the sky. The sirens were louder now, coming from the opposite direction that I was headed in, for which I was grateful. I looked wildly suspicious speeding away from the scene. I checked all my mirrors for any sign of the shooter, but they were well hidden, no doubt tucked away in some dunes. I didn’t know if it was lucky or not that this was such an abandoned area. I’d had no help, but I’d also gotten no one in danger, didn’t have to explain what had happened to anyone. No one would even know that I’d been there.

  Three streets and four turns later, I finally slowed down. Traffic was picking up, and I didn’t want to risk getting pulled over for speeding. I shivered in my sopping wet clothes, cranking up the heater, but the shakes only grew stronger as my adrenaline finally began to seep away. I couldn’t stop glancing in my mirrors, certain that I would find someone following me. I almost had a heart attack when a white car came with me through two turns and a red light, but then it switched lanes and sped around me, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I didn’t know where to go, so I just kept driving. I was cold and wet, but I was suddenly convinced there would be people watching my flat. I wasn’t ready to go back to the station, either. If they’d followed me, they’d come from there, not to mention that I couldn’t figure out what exactly I should tell people about what had happened. We already had one corrupt sergeant in our midst. What if there were others? As irrational as I knew it was, I was overcome with paranoia, each glance in the mirror only adding to the feeling as my heartbeat ratcheted higher and higher.

  Think, think. Where was safe? Where would these people--whoever they were--never to think to look for me? Not Eleanor’s house, not Sam’s place, not even Fletcher’s flat. No doubt these people would know about my connection to all three of them. So what did that leave? I wasn’t sure.