city of anarchy

chapter sixteen

Hermes watched the city slide by in a blur of streaking light. He was in the passenger's seat; Agent Ian was at the wheel, weaving the car speedily through the traffic, paying very little attention to the rules of the road.

In the back of the car was their handful: five Peripheral Agents sitting very cramped, awaiting the action. Agent Ian kept shooting them disapproving looks through the rear-view mirror.

'I don't want any of you messing this up,' he said eventually. 'You included, Agent Hermes. You all follow my lead, do exactly as I say. Understand?'

There was an irritable murmur from the back, which Hermes chimed in with vaguely.

Agent Ian pulled in to the side of the road.

Agent Hermes looked at the luminous sign, then again at the gun he had been given. He and the other Agents climbed out--Agent Ian was already confronting the bouncers, one hand on his holster, the other flashing his I.D.

'Arseface,' grumbled one of the Peripherals. 'He thinks he's such a big shot.'

Hermes looked at him. 'Er...Agent Hermes,' he said, when the man looked glaringly back. He rigidly offered his gun-free hand.

'Agent Mark,' the Peripheral said, with a nod of approval. 'Nice to meet you, Agent Hermes. Hopefully you'll find us a little less useless than Agent Superhero over there seems to think.'

Agent Ian struck each of the bouncers in turn and they went down unconscious. They had obviously not accepted his greeting.

'Here we go,' said Mark. 'Want my advice? Keep your head down, Agent Hermes. You'll learn more.'

Hermes gripped the gun, feeling that tingle of anticipation, discharged in movement of his fingers.

Even this late, the music still pounded away and the club was still full of people; and even though they held their weapons discreetly, they were met with a ripple of scattered, muted screams as the intoxicated people within staggered dumbly back to let them pass.

The Agents pushed through to the dancefloor.

'And then something shot into the sky, straight up,' explained Holly. 'I couldn't see what it was. The video was too grainy.'

The man in the throne seemed satisfied. 'Interesting,' he said.

'Look, that's everything,' Holly told him. 'Everything I remember.' She waited for him to say something else; she had the sudden, horrible feeling that he would decide he no longer needed her--and she already knew he was not going to let them go.

'Get them something to eat,' he said, waving his right hand at the room dismissively. 'They look like they need it.'

Vann sighed, taking hold of Holly's arm; another member, a short, stocky man with a square patch of beard on his chin and long, black hair swept over one eye, took Eugene.

'The riff-raff we let in these days,' Vann muttered under his breath as they walked out and down the dingy, narrow corridor.

'Yes, it's disgraceful,' said Holly, deadpan. 'How's your nose?'

Vann shot her a hunted look, which quickly transformed into a glare.

'Hey, Boris,' he then called back to the patch-bearded man. 'Where's Hector? I don't think I've seen him for days.'

Boris shrugged. 'Maybe he got sent on a mission again. He did say something about clean-up not long back.'

Vann grunted.

Then the music stopped.

Vann stopped with it, looking at his watch. 'Not closing time yet,' he said; then to Holly: 'You stay here while I see what's going on.'

He made the rest of the way in a half-sprint as loud voices and startled shrieks filtered their way through the closed door ahead. Through the door and up to the rail of the balcony and he saw the mass of people retreating like a tide around an island of Agents at the entrance. The island rapidly broke apart as the Agents spread themselves out and took guarded positions, all weapons scanning.

'Well, crap,' said Vann, running back to the door and bellowing down the corridor. 'Boris! We've got company of the unwanted kind. Let the others know!'

He turned back and met Agent Ian's fist. Holly, who was not the screaming type, allowed Eugene the honour as they both jumped back in fright.

Agent Ian grabbed Vann by his shirt, pulled him out of the corridor and back onto the metal balcony, slamming him against the wall.

'All we want is to talk,' he said.

'Then go somewhere else and do it,' Vann retorted.

'Don't try getting smart with me!'

'But it's so easy--'

Ian threw him to the floor; Vann stopped himself from falling, but looked up only to meet the Agent's fist again. Vann's had was thrown back with the impact and his entire body left the ground in a ridiculous spiral, spinning through the air like a drill-bit before hitting the metal floor again with a crank.

When Vann got up again, there was fire in his eyes. He squared his tattooed shoulders, cracked his knuckles and flexed his neck. He tackled Ian to the ground as the Agent drew his firearm: the weapon bounced out of his reach.

Vann struck him, then again, first with his elbow and then with his hand. Agent Ian attempted to get back to his feet, dazed; Vann helped him in the act, half-dragging him to the edge of the balcony.

'Witness, little Agents!' he said, grabbing Ian by the hair and thrusting his head forward over the rail. He ducked as the Agents below reacted with gunfire that glanced off the surrounding metal.

Agent Ian threw an elbow back and caught him on the chin, turning to face him in the process. Vann grabbed his head in both of his tanned hands, grinning madly, and wrenched his skull from his spine.

With a push, Agent Ian flopped over the rail and landed on the dancefloor right in front of Agent Hermes. Hermes could not see his face, and he did not want to see it. He looked up again just in time to see the members of the Dark Circle appear on the balcony with submachine guns, and the two Peripherals flanking him fall under the ensuing, stuttering madness of bullets. He darted forward, under the balcony, just as the submachine gun fire swept past him in a chattering arc.

Holly, who had drifted over to the door, looked out on the scene in horror.

'Holly?' said Eugene, not daring to come forward. 'What's happening?'

Holly reached out for the wall to steady herself. 'I...'

'You!' said Boris, barging past Eugene with his own gun. 'Get back! Keep out of the way!' He stepped through the door and into the glaring coloured light beyond like some kind of rockstar, raking the long hair back from his face to reveal a large, black circle on his forehead. He clutched the gun to his stout body and spread his feet wide, vibrating with the repeated recoil.

Holly fell back against the wall, feeling weak. 'Eugene,' she said. 'Eugene, we have to get out of here.'

Yvonne punched in the code for the door and stepped across the threshold, onto the plush carpet of Electa Grieve's lavishly furnished penthouse suite. As she looked around, she could not help but marvel at the substantial slice of treasury funds she must have acquired to live so richly.

The room was vast, the far wall curving with the shape of the building, large black rectangles infused with the lights of the city through panoramic windows. To the right was a glass table, presumably for dining, surrounded by some very comfortable looking chairs with swirly arms of some expensive wood; to her left was a fashionably arranged cluster of sofas, surrounding a very wide television screen embedded into the wall--and to the far left, next to the lounging area, was an illuminated bar with more choice of beverages than Yvonne had ever heard of.

She resisted the urge to make the most of these luxuries, giving the room one last look around before she fixed her eye on the doors to the rooms beyond.

The first of these was Grieve's bedroom, and a bathroom linked en-suite. Yvonne pointedly ignored the ridiculous four-poster bed and inspected the cabinets--so much jewellery and make-up that did her no good.

Once again, Agent Yvonne did not really know what she was looking for. She checked under the bed for the sake of thoroughness, finding only an inordinate amount of shoes.

The next room was Grieve's office, with the large mahogany desk, green desk lamps and high-backed swivel chair typical of such rooms--and above that, the largest portrait Yvonne had ever seen.

Electa Grieve looked back at her in a framed, seated pose, occupying the whole of the far wall: hands resting on her lap, expression bearing all the self-importance one could contain. Yvonne found herself stunned by the sight. It was grotesque in a way that she could not quite articulate.

Then Electa Grieve crept up behind her, said 'Here's Phase Two!', and struck her with a gold elephant.

Hermes looked over to the bar, gun peeking over the loudspeaker he had taken shelter behind, and saw Agent Mark crouched behind the bar. Agent Mark nodded; then Hermes had to duck as a Dark Circle member spotted him from the balcony opposite.

His mind raced: any second now they would descend from their elevated positions and finish them off. The gunfire continued sporadically, picking off the surviving Peripherals one by one.

Hermes wondered what the hell he was doing there. He could not even have completed his training. He looked over at the twisted corpse of Agent Ian--maybe Avgi had sent them all to their deaths.

Vann sighted him and happily shot at him, the front of the loudspeaker exploding in bits. He looked up, distracted by the less than subtle sight of Holly and Eugene trying to creep across the balcony, along the wall, ahead of him.

'Boris!' he shouted. 'Watch those two!'

Boris whirled around, fixing them both with a forbidding glare and the shooting end of his weapon.

Holly looked at him with loathing. 'If you didn't have a gun, I would kick you like a football,' she said.

'Yeah, well,' Boris said, scowling back, 'just as well I have one and can make you do what I say then, eh?'

'Your tattoo is moronic,' Holly replied. 'Your life is unfulfilled. That's why you spend it shooting people.'

'OK, shut up, before I--'

'Members of the Dark Circle!' boomed a voice, delivered like a gust of wind blown around the nightclub.

Everybody turned.

The shadow-man had risen from his throne. He wore a long leather trenchcoat that rippled mercurially, blackly, at his feet as he approached the rail. From below his coat's collar emerged a purple hood pulled low over his head. When he turned, Holly could still not see his face--just an obscure blackness within the hood, a blackness that spoke again:

'We are moving on,' he said. 'Prepare yourselves accordingly.'

'But there's still some of 'em down there!' objected Boris. 'We have to finish them off first!'

'No,' said the shadow-man. 'We go now. Soon their reinforcements will arrive. We must relocate.'

Then he walked away--or vanished, so it seemed, he did it so rapidly; the other shadows in the room seemed to shift with him, somehow clouding all the multicoloured lights that had earlier frozen in place with the music.

Agent Mark had been peering over the bartop. He dropped back down, his back against the bar, and clumsily dialled into his phone with his free hand. He placed the phone to his ear.

'Get me Brutt,' he said. 'I think we've found him.'

Vann stepped behind the bar, firing two shots: one that shattered the phone and the hand holding it, one that exploded Agent Mark's head. He looked around for other survivors, but as he moved a streak of blood trickled from his left nostril, and, stunned, he paused to wipe it away.

'Gotta go, Vann!' called Boris.

'Yeah,' Vann said distractedly, wiping his hands on his clothes. 'Yeah, I'm coming...'

Boris was joined by another of their group, a coal-skinned man with his dark hair in tight baubles all over his scalp, and the two of them frogmarched Holly and Eugene down the steps and out of the building.

As he remained crouched behind the loudspeaker, Hermes felt the adrenaline building up at his knees. The second he thought the building had been evacuated--and even then he was not sure--he ran over to Agent Ian, rolled the body over and searched him for the car keys. He quickly extracted them, also taking his phone. It was smashed, so he discarded it and took his watch instead, and then bolted for the exit, reaching the atrium just as he heard the Dark Circle setting off in their vehicles.

The place seemed abandoned as Avgi made her way down the corridor to the Mayor's office. Even Mawgly's secretary was absent from her station at the desk in the entrance.

Bracing herself, she knocked on the Mayor's door.

'Enter,' came Mawgly's voice. 'Agent Avgi!' she said, rising to her feet. 'Thank you for coming. Please, sit down.'

'Thank you, but I'll stand,' replied Avgi. 'You said you had something that you wanted to tell me?'

Mawgly's fixed grin faltered. Her gaze dropped to the floor and she lowered herself weakly into her seat. Her voluminous auburn hair made her look frazzled.

'I'm afraid the situation has become rather complex,' she said, wringing her hands on the desk. 'In many ways, the matter is now out of my hands. I personally never wanted it to come to this, you have to understand...'

Then she was up out of the seat again--Avgi heard people entering the room behind her, but she did not turn. Her hand very discreetly found the gun beneath her white labcoat.

A large hand fell on her shoulder as four burly men moved in behind her. It took an enormous amount of self-control not to break it.

'You are under arrest, Agent Avgi,' Mawgly said wearily. 'All current Agency operations are to be suspended pending investigation.'

'Avgi!' The voice came through her earpiece--a transmission through an Agent watch. 'Avgi, it's me, Hermes! Agent Ian is dead--so are all the others! They fought back; there were too many of them! One of them, he could...he could do things, like the Electric Man! They're trying to get away--I'm going after them, but I...I could really use some help!'

'And what am I being arrested for, exactly?' Avgi enquired coldly.

Mawgly sighed--she seemed relieved that her part in the deception had gone as planned. She seemed keen to pass on the responsibility. 'For many things, Agent Avgi,' she said. 'Not least of all for bugging my office. We're not stupid, you know.'

'Getting a little braver, too, I see,' said Avgi, glancing over her shoulder at the police officers. 'You didn't throw yourself out of the window this time. Though this may yet prove to have been a mistake on your part.'

In a singular whirling motion, Avgi then managed to strike all four officers, duck out of their grasp, step up onto the desk via the chair, withdraw her firearm and point it at the officers' heads. A quick step back brought her off the other side and beside the startled Mayor, who then found a hand at the scruff of her neck and Avgi's gun pressed against her temple.

'And you thought the silly little police boys would protect you when you tried your cowardly tricks,' Avgi said, close to her ear. 'I know you're afraid of me, Mawgly.' She wrapped her arm around the Mayor's neck. 'Now we're going to see just how much. Tell them to step aside.'

'You won't escape, Avgi!' said Mawgly. 'We have the building surrounded!'

Avgi tightened her grip; Mawgly wailed as she was dragged around the edge of the room. 'Don't shoot!' the Mayor shrieked. 'For God's sake, don't shoot!' Her desperate plea seemed just as directed at the trigger-happy officers as it was at her captor. The officers hesitated and Avgi used the opportunity to back out of the room.

There was a shot behind her--Mawgly screamed; Avgi swivelled, using Mawgly as a shield, and saw the hulking form of Commander Brutt striding down the hallway, gun pointed. Behind him, a pack of officers gathered like wolves, slavering for a bit of violence.

'Give it up, Avgi,' growled Brutt, his dark eyes twinkling maliciously. 'I'd rather not have to shoot you, but I will if you force my hand.'

She backed up against the wall, edging towards the lift. Brutt saw what she was doing and ordered his men to take the stairs to the other levels--Avgi would have to go where the stairs could not reach. She sank her fingers into the button and the grille heaved back. Stepping into the lift, she watched the police officers assemble before her just as she pressed the next button and the lift pulled away.

'What are you doing?' cried Mawgly. 'You'll get us both killed!'

'Now surely you're not afraid of the police, Mawgly? You didn't seem very sure that they wouldn't shoot you. Or maybe it's Electa Grieve you're afraid of?'

Avgi now had the gun pointed at the grille, but it passed each floor before the police brutes could get there. Then they arrived at their stop: Avgi pulled the grille back and attempted the locked door. A few hard kicks and the door shattered anyway, and the two of them were looking out over the rooftop.

The helicopter was still on the lit helipad. A pilot was already sat in it, reading a newspaper, awaiting the need for an emergency take-off.

'Perfect,' said Avgi. 'Now, Mawgly...is there any point in trying to extract anything useful from you, I wonder? Phase Two is a fiction, I assume. Do you even know? I suspect not. You're just being used.' Avgi kept her eyes on the pilot: he had not yet noticed them. Conveniently, he was facing the other way.

'No, I think I'll leave you here,' she said. 'I would take you with me, Mawgly, but quite frankly I can't stand your company.'

'Avgi--'

'I hope I don't see your face again, Mawgly,' said Avgi. She dealt her a blow to the head with the butt of her pistol and hammered a fist into the control panel, stepping out and running low across the roof as Mawgly and the lift plummeted.

The pilot did not notice her until it was too late, creeping up in the dark as she did. He tried to pull the earphones from his ears and throw the newspaper aside, but Avgi approached too fast, and had the gun pointed straight at him at close range.

She hopped onto the helicopter, coming up behind his seat. He looked down the snout of the gun, horrified.

'Fly, bitch!' said Avgi.

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