city of anarchy
chapter eight
They landed heavily on her desk, giggling like idiots. Agent Yvonne crouched miserably in the shelter of its underside as removed garments fell about her like rain. She glared up through the wood--they went about it so noisily, animalistic grunts filling the room, flying out incontinently in the face of everything decent.
Yvonne winced as a heavy curtain of auburn hair flung itself over the edge and danced about in front of her. She should not, she realised, have allowed it to get this far. She should have struck them both with the heel of her shoe as soon as they had entered.
There had been a stapler on the desk-- maybe she could punch Mawgly's hair into the wood and make a run for it. But she did not dare risk exploring above. And anyway, she was more than capable in several martial arts, so her ability to overcome them was not the issue. The problem she regretfully had to deal with entailed not alerting the mayor to the fact that anything was amiss--so under the table she had to stay.
A knocked container spilled pens and pencils all over the floor somewhere to her right. The mass of hair withdrew and the desk creaked as some effort of repositioning occurred.
Agent Yvonne clutched her shoe tightly, wishing her handbag had a gun. Why hadn't Avgi--
The door opened. 'Mawgly?' enquired a harsh, shrill voice. Then, plainly, as the preoccupied couple fell to the floor, 'Oh.'
'Shit,' said Mawgly.
'Shit!' agreed the man, getting to his feet and hurriedly collecting his clothes.
'What do you want now?' Mawgly demanded of the intruder.
'You were missing,' said the voice. 'I thought it prudent to make sure you remained...secure.'
'I was secure,' the Mayor said through gritted teeth, making her way around the desk and standing behind the swivel chair as her playmate hopped out of the room. 'Perfectly secure.'
Yvonne braced herself as the Mayor leaned over to pick up her dress. Fortunately, she remained turned away from the desk.
'But you're not helping by barging in unannounced like that! Showing up everywhere,' she muttered. 'Makes me nervous.'
The visitor appeared not to have heard. Yvonne heard a rapid patter: the intruder was moving about the room. 'Who was he?' she asked suddenly.
'None of your business.'
'Was he safe? Trustworthy? Give me his name. We may have to expunge him.'
'What? No!' Mawgly paced the space behind her desk. She pulled out the chair and sat on it. 'This is ridiculous. I don't need minding like this--'
'You forget,' said the shrill voice, coldly, 'how gravely important this is. We allowed you the position you desired, but you must not become complacent. We will remove you if we deem it necessary.'
There was silence then. Mawgly seemed to sag in her chair.
'Return to the party,' ordered the voice. 'The guests will be waiting.'
The woman scuttled out.
Mawgly did not leave immediately. Instead she sat for several minutes before eventually heaving herself up with a complete lack of enthusiasm and lumbering through the door.
When she had gone, Agent Yvonne crawled out from under her hiding place. She put on her heels and glanced up at the light where the one of the bugs had been placed.
'I hope you got all that,' she said.
Agent Sofia shone a torch about as she descended the staircase. The torchlight swept tentatively over the pained, dead faces of the unfortunate Agents who had been caught in the attack.
Avgi was still stood in the doorway looking out onto the street.
'Beans says he's having trouble with the back-up generator,' Sofia said, stepping carefully over somebody. 'If they were trying to knock us out, they did so thoroughly.'
When Avgi turned, her expression was so grim that it could have been etched into a gravestone.'Get those bodies identified and covered up,' she said, making her way to the stairs.
She paused. A pair of legs protruded from the shadows at the base of the stairs whose attire did not match that of her Agents or their attackers. She grabbed the combat trousers by the ankles and slid the body into view. 'Starting with this one,' she added. Shards of glass protruded from his bloodied head and a red tie hung loosely around his red-marked neck -- both evidently having contributed to his demise. 'What on earth,' muttered Avgi, kneeling to retrieve the tie. She pulled it free and examined it.
'What is it?' asked Sofia, standing over her.
Avgi was staring into middle-distance with equal parts confusion and realisation. She rose to her feet and lifted her wrist to her mouth. 'Agents,' she spoke into her watch. 'I need you to locate the intern immediately. And somebody send the nurse down here.'
'The intern?' said Sofia, bewildered. 'Hermes?'
'Looks like it,' Avgi replied, passing the tie to her. 'But I'm damned to shit if I know why.'
Hermes sat severely upright in the passenger's seat. He felt excruciatingly aware of himself--something he was desperately hoping that thy would not notice.
He took to drumming his fingers. The men in the van were quiet.
'Remember the orders,' said someone behind him, suddenly. 'Don't take off the masks until we're back at headquarters. We can't take any chances.'
Hermes relaxed a little. That was convenient.
'Do you think it'll hold them off for long?' asked the driver. 'The Agency, I mean.'
'We got 'em good,' replied the first speaker. 'No doubt they'll try and keep at it, but we've got them shuffling on their knees. We knocked out nearly everything they could use against us. The boss knows what he's doing.'
'Never seen anything like it,' said a third man from the back. 'The Electric Man,' he intoned, as if recalling a mythical figure. His voice was a mixture of awe and disbelief. 'Bloody understatement. You should have seen him.'
'He's going to save us all,' someone else agreed.
The conversation then lapsed into its former silence, this time more contemplative. Hermes was thinking intently.
'Do you think he was working with them?' asked Sofia, her face contorting with the myriad of other questions that this possibility raised.
Agent Avgi watched the man's body being lifted and taken away to be examined. 'That wouldn't make any sense,' she said. 'Why would he kill one of them?'
'I don't know,' replied Sofia. 'Maybe to make it look like--'
'No,' Avgi cut across her, shaking her head. 'We are grasping too far for an explanation. I fail to see how he can be at all connected with these men. He's part of an entirely different puzzle.' She looked thoughtful. 'I wonder how hard he hit his head when he fell all that way...'
'Agent Avgi,' called a voice. She turned to the stairs to see that the nurse had been found. One of the Agents accompanying her said, 'No sign of the intern, Avgi. The nurse says he was discharged.'
The nurse nodded. 'With your permission, I was to decide when he was fit enough to leave,' she said. 'He was not fully healed, but he was restless and able to walk without further injury, so I allowed him to go.'
Sofia turned to Avgi. 'You let him leave, just like that?' she asked. 'Don't we need him to find out the answer to that other puzzle?'
Avgi shrugged. 'He claimed not to know anything,' she answered.
Sofia gaped. 'But--'
'So I stuck a tracker in his head,' Avgi continued. 'He doesn't even know it's there. He just thinks that I adopt a particularly violent way of delivering sedative. I am not about to accept that a place so stringently secretive and secure as the Facility takes on a completely clueless intern just like that.'
Sofia closed her mouth and shook her head. 'Of course,' she said. 'I forget your methods sometimes, Avgi.'
Avgi allowed herself a moment to look smug before turning sharply back to the matter at hand. 'This rather unusual turn in events may yet work to our advantage,' she said. 'Whatever else is inside that boy's head, that signal may lead us straight to where they're going. Get me Beans!'
So sleep was not going to happen. Holly glanced over at Angus, who apparently had no problem at all in sleeping through their current predicament. Once again she questioned his dedication to clearing Eugene's name.
She stared at the door in front of her. 'Dorz,' she whispered. Then, a little louder, 'Hey, Dorz!' Again she glanced at Angus, before she began to beat the legs of her chair against the floor. 'Dorz!' she hissed.
Tap, tap, tap, tap...
Angus stirred. 'Holly, what are you--'
The door swung open. 'Keep it quiet in here, will you?' said Dorz, keeping his voice low. 'I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to!' He turned to leave.
'Wait, Dorz!' said Holly. 'I need to talk to you!'
Dorz looked back at her suspiciously. 'What about?'
'In the kitchen,' said Holly. 'Please. I won't try anything. You can keep me tied up.'
'Holly?' Angus said questioningly.
Dorz hesitated. 'Alright,' he said eventually. 'But attempt just one trick and you'll suffer for it.' He went to loosen her bounds.
'Holly, why are you--'
'Not now, Angus,' said Holly, standing as Dorz tightened the cord around her wrists.
Angus gazed in puzzlement after her as Dorz led her out of the room, pushing her gently but firmly forwards.
'What is it?' he asked, once they were out in the hallway.
'It's about the evidence we found,' said Holly.
They entered the kitchen and Dorz switched on the light. Holly sat down in the same chair as before; Dorz sat himself opposite.
'Well?' he asked.
'Well,' explained Holly, 'the truth is...there wasn't any evidence.'
Dorz stared at her. 'Is that really the truth, Holly?' he asked.
Holly returned his gaze with utmost seriousness. 'Yes,' she said. 'And I say this, obviously, with great risk to myself and Angus, because unless you kill us, we can run to the police whether we have the evidence or not. There's still the chance that the police might be interested enough to check, and you can't risk that, right? So either way, we're a problem you're stuck with.'
Dorz sat back, but his eyes still surveyed her closely. 'Why are you telling me all this, Holly?'
Holly leaned forward and placed her tied hands in the table in front of her. 'Because I want to help you,' she said. 'I think I believe you... about all the Facility stuff. And if that's true, then the only way I'm going to get Eugene out of that prison is if I help you.' Then, with carefully placed sincerity, she added, 'Please. Will you at least consider it?'
'Dorz?' came a voice from the hallway. 'Where are you?' Russ stepped into the kitchen. 'Dorz, what are you doing?' His eyes narrowed. He was still wrapped in his coat and scarf. 'What's she doing here?'
Dorz gestured vaguely at Holly. 'She says she wants to help us,' he said.
'Don't believe a word of it,' Russ snarled. 'Put her back in her chair.'
'There was no evidence,' repeated Holly, turning her head to him. 'There was nothing. Whether you believe me or not, I'm telling you the truth. I want to help you if it means finding out what really happened at the Facility.'
Dorz raised his eyebrows at Russ.
Holly sighed and continued the plunge. 'I'll admit I can't be certain of your side of the story yet. But I'm willing to hear it. If you're really telling the truth about all those strange disappearances--'
'We are,' said Dorz.
Russ glared. 'You discussed this with her?'
'--then I want to help you. For my own sake as much as yours. This is the only way any of us are getting out of this mess.'
A tense silence then filled the kitchen. Dorz looked thoughtfully at Holly's earnest face.
Russ sniffed. 'I don't think so,' he said. 'Get her back in the chair. Now.'
'Alright, we're here,' said the driver.
'Remember to keep your masks on,' said the other once again. 'Good work tonight, boys.'
The back of the van was opened up and the bowels of the vehicle were emptied as the handful of men hopped out. The driver swung open his door and Hermes, glancing at the side mirror, followed his example.
They had arrived in what was evidently a seedier part of the city. Most of the buildings looked decrepit and better off disused, crumbling brick things with broken gutters and shattered windows. Even the orange light of the streetlamps seemed dirty. The bright white of the boilersuited men provided a startling contrast to the grime of their surroundings.
Making sure that his black mask was still firmly attached to his face, Hermes followed the others as they filed into a tall tenement building with metal fire escape stairs running up the outside. He wondered which one of the men, if any, was the Electric Man.
The interior of the building did not fare much better. They shuffled into a narrow hallway mostly occupied by the base of a stairwell, with a couple of doors leading to rooms either side. Flaking, dark purple wallpaper and crumbling plaster made up the walls, and the carpet beneath their feet was worn so thin that it seemed as if at any moment it might fade from existence. Glancing upwards, Hermes saw that the ceiling was edged with cracked moulding of an intricate floral design. It was almost grand for such a wretched building, but like everything else the pattern gave such an impression of decay that it seemed like some kind of obscene, spiteful parody.
Also, the place stank. They needed gas masks, not these flimsy things. When the men began to take their masks off, Hermes spent a little time marvelling at how they did not asphyxiate before realising that they would be expecting him to do the same. He brought his hand to the plastic face, looked around and attempted to slink away up the stairs as the men appeared to filter through and make themselves, somehow, at home.
'Oi, Kingbald, where are you going?' demanded someone.
Hermes only half-turned. 'Men's room,' he called back, his voice muffled.
The man grunted. 'It was that exciting, eh? What's with the limp? One of them Agents fight back too hard?'
'Er...yeah,' said Hermes. He grabbed the brass stair rail and heaved himself up several steps at a time. Feeling far enough away from the others, he swung into the second floor, taking off his mask and peering down the corridor. Bare lightbulbs hung from the ceiling at regular intervals. Hermes considered that he had not really thought much about what to do next -- in addition to not really thinking about what he was doing at all -- and he suddenly felt slightly insane. But he found this strangely, inexplicably thrilling.
He checked the stairwell for approaching boilersuits and, satisfied that it was clear, decided to have a look around, sauntering down the corridor and trying the handles of each door. Some were locked; some gave way to very uninteresting rooms. By the time he had reached the end of the corridor, he was not expecting much from the two doors remaining; but, turning the handle of the first and pushing it slowly open, he was surprised to find that this room was occupied.
The room was, like many of the others, square and rather small. An electrocardiogram glowed dimly in the dark, spiking gently as a sign that someone was sleeping in the bed by which it stood.
Without switching on the light, Hermes crept towards the recumbent person, a mass of shadow propped against a pillow. He grabbed the bedrail and gazed down. The sleeper, he saw, was a young woman with a huge but bizarrely disfigured bush of black hair. She lay very, very still. Hermes wondered who she was.
Then he looked up as the rectangle of light from the corridor was blocked by somebody standing in the doorway. The man peered in. 'Who's that?' he demanded. 'I don't think you're supposed to be in here!'