The Psychonaut - Book 1 Page 26

  Radio silence was all he heard.

  You think he’s in trouble? He looked at Celestia.

  Maybe he can’t speak at the moment.

  Can you sense where he is?

  Non, he will have put up a shield. At least some of these people will be Ukurum.

  I didn’t know he could do that.

  I taught him in Turkmenistan.

  Another two cars arrived in short succession. Their occupants swiftly stepped out and entered the building. With their backs to him, Merrick couldn’t identify any of them.

  “Quite a merry band of minstrels aren’t they?” Mike said. “Albany, if you can hear us, there’s company arriving. Be on your toes.”

  There was still no reply over the airwaves.

  “Are we still running with plan A?” Mike said.

  “Yeah, it’s still our best option,” Merrick replied.

  They maintained radio silence for another five minutes, after which, Albany finally piped up. “Everyone got their ears on?”

  “Albany. Glad you’re back on-line,” Merrick said, “where are you?”

  “In a broom closet, just down the corridor from their meeting room. As far as I can tell, there are five security guards, plus two more gorillas with the suits.”

  “Have you managed to plant the bug?”

  “That’s a negative. I didn’t know which room they were heading for at first, and now there’s a gorilla standing guard at the door.”

  “Great,” Merrick said. “If we can’t hear what they’re saying then this is going to have been a wasted journey.”

  “I believe I could be of some help.” The voice was Rovach’s. Merrick hadn’t heard his harsh rasp since they left Turkmenistan. “I can place the device under the door if there’s clearance.”

  “How do you aim to do that?” Merrick said. “Pass yourself off as a tea-maid?”

  “My biggest challenge is getting in the building. After that I shall blend.”

  Merrick thought for a moment. “Anyone else got any ideas?”

  What about you and Celestia doing one of your far-seeing, mind-probe things?” Mike said.

  “We already tried when we got here. They’ve covered the place with a psychic shield.”

  “Magickal?” asked Albany.

  “Oui, it has a residue.”

  “Okay,” Merrick said. “In the absence of an alternative, Rovach, let’s go with your idea. Let us know if and when you’ve done the deed.”

  It was another five minutes after Rovach signed off that Merrick looked out of the window and saw the hired muscle at the front door step forward. He looked round while reaching into his jacket, holding off from drawing whatever concealed weapon he carried. As the guard looked across the road, Merrick saw the door behind him open for a second, then swing back into place. The guard looked at the fiat for longer than Merrick felt comfortable with, but then withdrew his hand and placed himself in front of the door again.

  Merrick exhaled with a muted whistle. “Looks like he’s in.”

  “Rovach is a master of distraction and camouflage.”

  “I couldn’t see anything. Was he invisible?”

  “Again, no. The way I understand it, he manipulates perceptions. If you know where and how hard to look, you might see what you think is a passing shadow or the movement of a blade of grass, but that is all.”

  “You lot never cease to amaze me.” Merrick took a few easy breaths. He was starting to think their prospects might not be so bleak after all.

  The next twenty minutes passed with a frustrating sluggishness. Waiting. Again. He postulated about the wisdom of stepping boldly out the car, confronting the brick chicken house of a guard then creating a psychonautic storm within. He could extract the required information in seconds and then they’d be on their way. Only, he knew it wouldn’t pan out like that. His demon, he’d come to think of it as that, wouldn’t settle for it. Even now he felt the magma bubble up again, pushing against his third eye, demanding release. He employed Arun’s dissipation technique, yet he knew he’d need to scratch the itch again soon.

  “Fuck it,” he said out loud. They’ll have finished the meeting at this r—”

  “I think I’ve got something,” Mike said from the roof. “My laptop’s getting a signal from the bug. Whatever magick they’re using can’t stop good old microwaves.”

  “Can you direct the feed over the radio?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Moments later, they all heard voices, raised, but as if spoken through pillows.

  “... needs the cash-flow to accelerate ... Shamon can go to hell, he ... you know how he operates. He says that something has to be—and it is ...”

  “That last voice,” said Merrick. I know who it is.”

  “Don’t keep us in suspense, buddy. Spill the gen,” Mike said.

  “Anton Farrago. I’d recognise that weasel-tone anywhere.”

  “Am I supposed to know the guy?”

  Merrick gave a quick run-down of his encounter with Garento, while still trying to listen in on the Ukurum meeting.

  “Are you recording this, Mike?”

  “You bet. They seem to be having a disagreement.”

  “Yeah. Heartening to know they’ve got their fair share of internal wrangles too.”

  They listened for a few more minutes until the angered words died down somewhat.

  “I think some of them are leaving,” Albany said. “The goon outside’s opened the door.”

  “Are you still uncompromised?” Merrick said.

  “If you mean that the Ukurum don’t know we’re in this closet, then yes. But if someone opened the door they’d see Rovach and me in a very compromised position.

  Merrick sensed Celestia suppressing the urge to giggle. He just scowled.

  “It’s decision time, buddy. Do we close in or do we follow the leavers?” Mike said.

  “I don’t fancy our chances in a skirmish with them,” Celestia said.

  “On the other hand, time is against us.” Merrick was thinking aloud. “And we still haven’t got my accounts back on-stream yet.”

  “Wait on,” Albany interjected. “I’m going to take a quick peek.”

  “Albany, don’t risk—”

  Merrick heard Albany’s radio cut out. “Damn, He’s pushing his luck too far.”

  Merrick and Celestia watched as the executives began to exit by the front door. It wasn’t long before Albany was back on the airwaves.

  “Most of them are going,” he said. “But at least two are still in the room.”

  “Right, stay where you are,” Merrick said. “We’re coming in. Mike, stay put on the roof for now. If it sounds like we’re in trouble then hightail it. Someone has to get this information to Jason or Karapetian.”

  “You know I won’t do that,” Mike said. “You don’t leave your buddies in a tight spot.”

  “Mike, this is too important to play heroics. Stay where—”

  The radio crackled and for the second time that night, one of Merrick’s tribe ignored his instructions.

  Celestia looked at him and shrugged.

  “I bet Nelson and Napoleon ever had this problem,” he said.

  Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Napoleon?”

  “Never mind. Come on, let’s go.”

  Once out of the car, they switched to mind-speak and paced towards the building.

  The guard saw them coming when they were only half-way across the road and instantly tensed up. It didn’t do him any good. Celestia threw a grooved steel ball that arced towards him and struck his forehead. He collapsed like a demolished chimney.

  Will he be out for long? Merrick sent

  Oui, a very long time. Do you care?

  Not really. Come on, let’s drag him out of sight.

  After hiding the guard under a rhododendron bush, they entered the building. The foyer was dark and empty. They took the stairs and
arrived on the third floor.

  Luck’s holding out so far, Merrick sent.

  I don’t like relying on luck, Celestia sent back. Good and bad fortune cancel each other out in the long run.

  They snuck a peek through the fire-door window at the corridor beyond. It was empty. Merrick risked a message to Albany. “Nothing going on outside,” he said, “you hang back, just in case things go pear-shaped.”

  “Roger to that.”

  Merrick knew Farrago was still in the room, Slessinger too. There could be others, and he didn’t want to go in blind.

  Celestia must have picked up his thought process because she beamed through to him. Merrick, their shields are down. I think maybe whoever was creating it has left.

  What do you sense?

  Four of them altogether. Farrago, this Slessinger character and two others.

  Good, so at least we know what we’re up against. Anything else?

  They’re talking. That’s all I can tell.

  We better make our move then. Are you ready?

  Merrick winced as the door’s spring mechanism sounded at his gentle pressure, but he’d committed himself now. He hoped Farrago’s conversation would drown out any background noise. His third eye picked up the heightened cortisol in both Celestia and his’ bodies; the same sense he’d used as a child during games of Grandmother’s footsteps, always amazing his friends how he always won every game.

  He was two yards from the open door when he heard a voice from within.

  “You might as well enter, whoever you are—only do it with your hands on your heads.”

  Fuck. How did he know?

  “And tell your friend in the closet to come out too.”

  Should we run for it? Merrick sent.

  Celestia didn’t have time to answer as the door they had just come through opened, and two men strode towards them. I think they’ve ruled out that option. They obviously circled back to the building after leaving.

  He looked back the other way. There were doors at the end indicating an exit, but as he watched, another goon emerged and pointed a revolver at them. There was no way out. Albany emerged from the closet and placed his hands on his head.

  They don’t know about Rovach or Mike. Let’s do as they say for now. It’ll give us time to think.

  Merrick was only half right, because seconds later the fire doors burst open behind the two goons, and another man pushed Mike through.

  “I found another pigeon on the roof,” he said, with a smug look on his face.

  I guess that leaves Rovach, Celestia sent.

  Great. Our fate’s in the hands of a guy who can become one with the soft furnishings.

  The two nearest men signaled for Merrick and Celestia to enter the room. They complied, hands placed on heads.

  Farrago stood next to Slessinger, arms folded. Two more security types dominated the far wall, each holding a hand gun. Merrick wasn’t a weapons expert but he knew there was enough firepower to turn them into human sieves before they hit the floor.

  Farrago feigned surprise. “Well, if it isn’t Merrick Whyte—at least, I assume it is. You look quite different from last time we met.”

  “Looks like time’s moved on for you as well, Farrago. You’re twice the man you used to be.”

  The Italian had grown a beard and a gut, giving him the appearance of an opera singer. But the eyes remained those of a bull in a ring.

  “You know, you cost my company half a billion euros in that Harris-Billinger deal—and me my directorship. I’m going to enjoy this.”

  He gave a barely perceptible nod to his men, who reacted by pistol-whipping all the Outcasts except Merrick. They keeled over and lay still.

  “Christ, you bastards. What was that for?”

  Farrago didn’t answer but took a chair, indicating that Merrick should do the same. A goon pressured him down into the seat to reinforce the instruction.

  “Mr Whyte, you have taken us for fools. No longer.” His clipped Italian accent grated on Merrick—yet another reason to hate him. “We both know the special talents of your friends. Incapacitating them is a necessity. But don’t worry, they will not suffer any more.They will never wake up again.”

  Merrick thrust himself forward at the man, but hands as big as spades clamped him in place before he could launch himself.

  Farrago continued as if nothing had happened. “You, however, may be valuable. We’ll see what Jagur Shamon has to say. He’s a little, how you say—pissed off with you, after you dispatched his vanguard in Turkmenistan. By the way, if you’re thinking of an assault with that mind-force of yours, then understand Luigi here can put a bullet through Miss Barone’s head quicker than you can release it. He’s got rather an itchy trigger finger and he’ll be viewing our conversation over our internal camera system. Luigi?”

  A piece of meat with a ponytail picked up Celestia’s limp form as easy as a pet cat, and carried her out of the room.

  “There. You’ll find it difficult to take Luigi out when you don’t even know where he is.”

  Merrick looked around in desperation. The Italian had caught him off-guard giving him no time to think. He had to stall him somehow. “Okay, Anton, I guess you got the bounce on me, but I’m curious. How did you know we were closing in on you? We didn’t pick up any magickal sources once your associates left.”

  Farrago snorted. “An oversight on your part. Your friend’s relationship with our police isn’t as deep as he thought. Sergeant Rococo is one of many who have placed their allegiance with us.”

  Merrick could have cursed Mike, but it was clear they’d been under-qualified for such an operation. They’d been lucky to get as far as they did.

  “It appears to me, that you people are outclassed.” Farrago obviously enjoyed the sound of his own voice. “Which is all the more ironic considering your peculiar talents are off the scale. You’re a blunt weapon with no refinements. Shamon gave you the chance to cooperate with us, but you turned him down—another miscalculation on your part.”

  “So, where’s this going?” Merrick said. “Are you just going to sit there and gloat, or is there a point?”

  “There’s a purpose all right, but I’d like to create an atmosphere more conducive to our interview.” He rotated his hand in in imperious gesture. “Adriano, Gaspare. Take Whyte’s friends to a suitable place and shoot them. Leave their bodies in the nearest dumpster. There’s no need to exert yourselves, one is supposedly dead already and the other is wanted by the police for questioning. No one will mourn their passing.”

  Merrick tried to wrench free again but the cold barrel of the goon’s revolver pressed hard against his temple, making any attempt at intervention futile. Two other guards left the room at Farrago’s command, leaving one remaining goon and Slessinger.

  Slessinger, who had remained immobile so far, took out a pair of handcuffs and used them to lock Merrick’s arms behind his back. The metal chafed Merrick’s skin when he tested them and his posture prevented any sudden movements. Slessinger completed the task by blindfolding him with a bandanna.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Slessinger, but kinky sex doesn’t float my boat,” he said.

  “That’s where you’re reading him wrong,” Farrago said. “Slessinger’s more of a pleasure and pain type. The pleasure being all his.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Now for the part where you tell us what you know, starting with your knowledge of the gateways. Specifically, those you have traveled through and what lies beyond.”

  “Now who’s being naive?” Merrick said. “You think I’ll just tell you?”

  “With the right persuasion—yes. Your escape from Shamon’s citadel revealed one of your weaknesses to those who followed. It seems you suffer from extreme vertigo. Take him to the roof.”

  Slessinger and the goon wrenched Merrick from his chair and pushed him out of the room. Merrick kept telling himself to focus, make an effort to gather his men
tal resources, but Farrago kept throwing him off-centre. He knew what he had in mind, and the prospect of suspension from the top of the office block paralysed him still further. He mustered the resolve to struggle against his captors, but a cruel blow to his head knocked even that token resistance out of him. He was shoved into a lift and, as the sense of upward movement signaled their ascent, Merrick knew he was minutes away from joining his friends as dumpster trash. He tried in vain to marshall his psychonautic energy, but without his vision or Celestia’s far-sight, the third eye was impotent.

  Farrago was on the phone, presumably speaking to Shamon. He spoke in monosyllables, a lap dog to his master.

  On the top floor, they forced him up a short flight of stairs. He heard a door open and felt wind on his face. The sound of Rome’s evening traffic floated up from below, accompanied by the smell of exhaust fumes.

  Not exactly what he’d have asked for as a last request.

  ~~~

  Chapter 30

  Firehead

  As Merrick waited for hands to propel him forward, the sound of two sharp thumps and an agonised cry reached his puzzled ears. The goons’ grip on his arms was gone. He looked round, not knowing what to expect, but before he had time to think, the lights of the city filled his field of view as the blindfold was removed. He heard the familiar voice of a friend speak in his ear: “Any room for some gate-crashers at your rooftop party?”

  “Mike, you indestructible sod, what happened?” Merrick wanted to rub his eyes but the cuffs were still on. He saw Rovach rifling through the pockets of an unconscious or dead Slessinger—he couldn’t tell which—while Albany held a pistol to Farrago’s head. The Italian knelt, beads of sweat running off his face as he stared, wide-eyed at his former victims.

  Rovach found the keys to Merrick’s cuffs and released him.

  Merrick blinked as his eyes became accustomed to the light. “Celestia. She’s—”

  “Perfectly safe,” Mike said. “She’s coming round in the IT suite, which is where we’re heading now.”

  “The other security?”

  Mike drew a fore-finger across his neck and Merrick saw a dark glint in his eye.