Chapter Fifteen

 

Don snuck out of the storage room where he’d spent the night curled up in a pile of sleeping bags he had liberated from their packaging. It was close and airless and, towards dawn, too warm in there, but he had rested a little despite the musty smell and the dust particles tickling his nose. He peeked out before leaving to ensure that the corridor was empty.

 

The downtime had allowed him to take stock of the situation. He didn’t doubt his ability to hack into the systems. He was strong enough to defend himself for the time it would take to bring the place down. However, he was plagued by doubts as to what he was supposed to do with the men after he freed them and how he would get them back to civilisation.

 

He tiptoed along the corridor until he reached a map hanging on the wall. Placing his palm against it, he imbibed comprehensive details of the layout and function of every room. Remembering every detail was easy for him, but he still needed to get closer to the people working here if he had any hope of disabling the facility and evacuating the men held prisoner here.

 

As he snuck onwards, he listened so intently for any sounds that he lost all sense of where he was in the facility. When voices echoed down the corridor towards him, he ducked into a bathroom to his right. He lingered by the door, just opening it a crack, as two workers strolled past. They were both women, and they were chatting about one of their experiments. He recalled that every worker he’d spotted at the facility where Gerald was held was also female.

 

As the women sauntered along, Don overheard one of them joke, "Another busy day pretending to add to the stock of humankind's knowledge ahead!"

 

The other laughed. "They’re only men. What does it matter?”

 

Don let them pass on by until it was safe for him to sneak back out into the corridor and follow them to the lab.

 

*

 

Ivy jumped at the sound of keys grinding in the locks. When Honigbaum pushed the door open, he greeted her with a wry smile.

 

"Don't do this!" she whispered.

 

He brought a small pot out from his pocket and flipped the lid open, tipping two tiny pills out onto his palm and showing them to her.

 

When she shrank from the offer, he forced them into her mouth, clamping it shut until she swallowed. As he released her, she coughed and gasped for air. "Let me go! Please!"

 

She lunged at him, hoping to catch him unawares as he was still processing her plea, but he anticipated her assault. He brought both an unexpected physical strength and an emotional hatred to a struggle they both guessed would prove decisive. She threw all her energy into trying to wriggle free, but he caught her hands and twisted her arms above her head. He used his immense weight to prevent her from kicking out at him, forcing her breath from her body until she felt too weak to fight on.

 

When she lay pinned beneath him, his face close to hers was terribly pale. Their fight had taken its toll on him, and he took his time easing up off her again and lashing her to the bed.

 

"In just a few short hours, I'll be able to impregnate you," he said, retightening the bonds so that she was almost unable to move.

 

*

 

Janus drained the last of the whisky and shouted for someone to bring another one. No one answered and, when he went out into the anteroom, it was empty. He staggered back to his desk and slumped in his chair.

 

Everyone had gone. The ructions that followed his hanging Don and Ivy out to dry shook the resistance to the core. As quickly as people had previously lined up to back him as the resistance's leader, they now abandoned him. The exodus had gone on ever since Sunday night when word first got round that Don and Ivy had fled with Gerald.

 

A voice spoke inside his head. For a moment, it was so real that he leapt up and glanced wildly around the room in panic. As he realised he was alone, he sank into his chair and put his head in his hands. “Damn you, Ivy and Don!”

 

A throaty chuckle echoed inside his head. “If you like, that can easily be arranged.”

 

Blind fear gripped his soul. The Master was inside his head. “I am sending my most loyal servant to you," the Master said. "She's called Hendra Tungsten. Do as she asks, and we might let you live. Deliver the boy to me unharmed. You can dispose of the girl. She’s irrelevant. Enjoy her and discard her as you please.”

 

That terrifying low laugh rippled through his head again. A clammy sweat broke over him, and he curled up into a ball in his seat, shivering.

 

Even though the Master was just a shell of his former self, even a few seconds being assaulted in this way was still terrifying. Janus collapsed to the ground, rocking backwards and forwards compulsively. He wept, and every so often he whimpered for deliverance from the evil that had just crawled across his soul.

 

*

 

By keeping his protective shield up as he entered the conference room, Don was able to move around without the occupants detecting his presence. The lights flickered as he walked in, and everyone eyed the ceiling in confusion, but they had no way of knowing what was happening. Something feels wrong for them, he noted in satisfaction, but they don't know what.

 

He forced down the temperature in the room until everyone was shivering, and he nudged the air-circulation unit into failing. It took only a few moments for everyone to start coughing and sniffing the air as the room turned stuffy and the odour of stale food spread around.

 

There were about fifty women in the room, one of whom was the lead scientist. Another woman was the facility manager. “Be the generator again, d’you think?” one asked the other.

 

He focused until he understood the dynamics at play a little better. The leaders were Carrie and Ellie. Ellie, the facility manager, had just spoken, but Carrie, who led the research itself, was much closer to the Master.

 

“Thought you had that fixed!” Carrie replied.

 

“Gods help us all if that thing goes down! Don’t fancy asking the Master for an evacuation," Ellie muttered.

 

“He'd leave us to freeze rather than go to any trouble. Even if he wanted to save us, he’s got problems of his own right now. Stand firm and remember your training,” Carrie told everyone.

 

Carrie pointed a small device at the opposite wall. It projected a map of the whole facility onto the smooth surface, and everyone gathered round to look at it. The muttering about the foul air and chilliness dribbled away, but a persistent disquiet and dissatisfaction lingered.

 

Casually, Don put just enough mental energy into making the map flicker. He wanted to really unsettle as many of the facility’s staff as he could before he disabled the whole place. No matter how professional they were, their uncertainty would build until they cracked. It was so easy that it felt like he was playing around, a moment of levity amid the seriousness of what lay ahead. The map disappeared and reappeared a few seconds later before the machine cut out completely.

 

“Damn! Ellie, you try,” Carrie said.

 

The blonde women took the machine, tapped it against the wall and it turned back on again. The map returned, but it took a few moments to stabilise properly. As Don threw out a mental command to change details of the map, it went fuzzy but, when it cleared, the key features of the installation had altered just as he wished. The presentation would go ahead, but they would be wrong about various essential points without being aware of what had happened.

 

Whenever doubt crept into Carrie's mind about what she was saying, or when anyone else voiced concern over the details they were being fed by her, Don needed to nudge them to accept his version above what common sense and their previous experience here at the facility told them was right. Cognitively, there was always lots of resistance to being persuaded by facts or analysis which deep down people knew to be incorrect. That took a lot of empathy and skill for him to overcome, and it was incredibly draining to be entering into their thoughts, guessing where they were vulnerable and where the resistance would come.

 

As Don surrendered his whole being to entering the other people’s heads, he experienced a buzz that was just sharp enough to hurt. He pressed his fingers against his temples to cope with the discomfort. Even after second and third attempts, he was still bounced out of the experience at every attempt, and he frowned. He was unable to alter the map because his thoughts were clouded with images of Ivy in Ubersneller.

 

Abandoning his own project for the moment, he walked towards the door. Carrie and Ellie began their presentation but, courtesy of his weakness, they would now be able to fill in everyone else correctly without any interference from him.

 

*

 

After Sinistra undid his restraints, Gerald curled up on his bed and stared numbly at the wall. Hot tears of shame streamed down his cheeks. He wiped them away, but the salty tide flowed. After she left the room, there was no one left to witness the agony of his humiliation, so he buried his head in his pillow and sobbed, his body racked until he was exhausted.

 

He tried to imagine a way to kill her and escape, but it seemed hopeless. He was locked in a room only a couple of metres square, imprisoned by a woman physically stronger than him who had no intention of letting him go.

 

He resisted the temptation to surrender himself to self-pity. As the disturbances in the world linked to the crumbling resistance subsided, his mother would try to get in touch. When he was prevented from accepting her requests for a vidchat, she would realise he was in trouble. His surgeries would be peremptorily cancelled. Even with political upheaval engulfing the country, the families of his patients would be angry at his absence, and his fellow surgeons would be resentful enough at taking up the slack to insist he was found immediately.

 

There would be a reckoning. Somehow amid this sexual abuse he must hold onto that fact. He would be rescued or find a way to escape, and when he was free of Sinistra he would set about making her pay.

 

*

 

Hendra sat in the car’s front passenger seat feeling utterly numbed by the news she'd received from her vidchats. It was a relief that Ian Flint, with his greasy hands that never left her alone for long, was dead, and she shuddered when she recalled him pawing her endlessly. But the news that the authorities, to whom she owed everything had been thrown from power, and was now having considerable difficulty re-establishing its authority over the population, had shocked her deeply.

 

When the vehicle nagged her yet again for their destination, she lost all remaining patience with its whiny tone and smacked the buttons on its dashboard until its whole system shut down. Nothing was working properly, but the car was particularly groggy from the reboot it underwent after the authorities snatched it back from the resistance. She held down its reset button, waiting for it to right itself. Eventually, the lights on its dashboard exploded in a display of rebirth that gave her real confidence for the first time in several days.

 

"Your vehicle wishes to apologise for the unacceptably poor level of service you have received. How may it be of assistance to you now, Ms. Tungsten?"

 

“Fail me like that again and I’ll see you scrapped, you heap of junk!”

 

A voice inside her head murmured that inanimate objects existed to serve her rather than the other way around.

 

Hendra burst into tears of joy. The Master had returned, and he sounded as beguiling as ever. “I truly appreciated Ian Flint," he said. "That useless son and mewling wife of his never understood his political greatness. Thankfully, her terminal illness means she won't be around much longer. I for one will not miss Ursula Flint one bit. You must bring him round to the Flint Ideology without delay, though. Make Gerald embrace his father's legacy. And you must take over Ian's work. He would’ve wished for that to happen. I want that, too, and I am certain you wish to serve me faithfully.”

 

When she opened her eyes, she expected there to be lights rippling on the dashboard. It had sounded like his voice was coming out of the car. “Master?”

 

The answering silence enveloped her. She was tucked away at the end of the quiet country lane leading up to the small harbour where her lifeboat had docked, but the birdsong had disappeared. The beech trees were swaying in the breeze, but there was no rustling at all.

 

“I need more than that!" she cried. "If I'm to continue, I must know everything. I can’t let Ian's death go unavenged. I must make those responsible suffer!”

 

The Master’s weak, rasping voice breathed into Hendra’s head, "They already are! Destroy Don Allwood and Ivy Spires. Meet Janus as arranged. He’s weak and losing his grip on the slender bit of power he ever had. Rip the last of it from his sweaty grasp and enjoy doing it. Send him to do our dirty work. That’s always been my way. Janus will lead you to Don and Ivy. He hates them for his loss of power. He blames two children for the crumbling resistance when he's the one at fault. Deliciously complex! Above all, bring Gerald back into the fold. He will be mine, body and soul.”

 

The last vestige of the Master’s presence drained out of her brain. Bereft at having him so close only to have their intimacy snatched away, she ached to have him in her thoughts again. “You can count on me, Master.”

 

As the car drove her into central Metropolis, the images the Master had planted in her brain flitted across her thoughts. She swung by her apartment, showered and peeled off the disgusting tunic she'd been wearing for days. Putting on her favourite tailored black trouser suit and wedge-heeled boots, she felt an absolute determination to regain all she had lost rise inside her.

 

The vehicle pulled up half an hour later in front of the familiar government building. She got out and slammed the door. "Wait here. I won't be long," she said.

 

The car responded by clicking on its handbrake and switching off its engine.

 

Striding into the building, she grabbed the security guard, twisted his arm until it broke and relieved him of his handgun. She tucked it into her belt alongside the knife stolen from the harbour authority’s office. “Where's Janus Fidens?”

 

The whimpering guard motioned towards the elevator. “Top floor.”

 

She rode up in the lift smiling smugly. The doors pinged open, and she stepped into Janus’s anteroom. It was empty. Tiptoeing across the room, she drew her weapon from her belt and eased open the door to his office. A fat middle-aged man was slumped over the desk. She snuck over, put the gun against his right temple and clicked off the safety catch.

 

“The Master sent me, and you know what that means, don’t you, Janus?”

 

He scrambled away from her, drunkenly fell off his chair and cowered at her feet, begging for his life.

 

“Actually," she sneered, "it’s your soul you should be worrying about. What does the flesh matter? The Master doesn’t even have a body. Perhaps you should follow his example by dispensing with yours.”

 

Terrified, Janus sobbed out a cascade of apologies. She squatted down and twisted his genitals until he yelped in agony. She wiped her hand on her trousers, disgusted by him. Touching the man was repellent.

 

“Where are Don and Ivy?" she asked.

 

Janus crawled away under his desk, but she dragged him back out. She freed the knife from her belt and pressed it against his crotch.

 

“You don’t need these pointless dangly bits for anything, do you? Nothing in your gene pool deserves to be passed on to a future generation. In fact, I’d call it a public service.”

 

When she nicked his thigh next to his scrotum, he cried out again.

 

This game is becoming tiresome, she thought, this worm is no kind of challenge. It was Ivy she was looking forward to breaking most. Sexual jealousy at Ivy’s closeness with Gerald had plagued her since she'd seen them together at the country club a couple of days ago. She would possess Gerald completely and enjoy tormenting Ivy before killing her. That girl was nothing. She was out of her depth and ought to be glad it would soon be over.

 

She spat at Janus, "Gerald took them somewhere? Where would he have gone? Somewhere out of the way. Somewhere he could leave them with people he trusted.”

 

Weeping, Janus stammered, "I don’t know. Watching Gerald was Ivy and Don’s job. I know nothing about him. I only knew about his father."

 

She got up and mulled over what Janus had just said as she eyed the pathetic creature at her feet. He was much too frightened to lie.

 

Ian had told her all about his childhood in the north: the lakes, the hills and the uplands. Gerald spent most school holidays with their extended family. There was a place Ian spoke of with particular pride as having a unique darkness deep inside its soul. He made it sound like the place was alive. A light dawned at last as she remembered its name. The Flints were scattered all over the northwest, but there was only one location Gerald would take Don and Ivy if he truly wanted to keep them safe.

 

Smiling smugly, she glanced down at Janus again. “The place you’re looking for is called Blackacre,” she said.

 

*

 

When Honigbaum returned to Ivy at lunchtime, her bleeding had stopped about half an hour earlier. Ever since then she had been trying to reach out to Don mentally, calling for his help, but there had been no response.

 

“Your friend Henry is free to go. I gave the order just now.”

 

"I don't believe you."

 

“I've brought the fertility drug. Then I'll inseminate you. Hope it’s a girl. I’d like one of each,” he said, opening a pill bottle and fetching out a tiny round white tablet. "A sister for Don, eh?"

 

"Whatever it is, the child will hate you for eternity. If you survive long enough to meet them in the flesh, that is."

 

As quick as a flash, his fist snaked out and punched her on the side of the head. She glowered as her head sang from the force of his blow. He yanked her jaw open to shove the tablet into her mouth. He pinched her nostrils closed, rubbing her throat until she was compelled to swallow. Then he rummaged in his pocket and brought out a long syringe and a tub of white liquid. Next to it, he placed a cotton handkerchief and a vial. "Much as I enjoy our fights, I think it might be easier on us both if I put you under for this part of the procedure," he said slyly. "Don't worry, my dear, you won't feel a thing."

 

*

 

A sharp pain shot across Don's mind just as he was about to leave the conference room, forcing him to grip his head and curl up in a ball on the floor. The carpet was dusty, and he recoiled with loathing at the loose hairs and dirt around him.

 

He maintained his defensive shield until the pain subsided. He tried to move, but his body was numb apart from a low ache in his heart. He curled up tighter. When the pain gnawed at him again, he fought it until it was replaced by a different kind of discomfort: the same one he’d endured for months after his mother died last year.

 

When he attempted to discover the source, he visualised an image of Ivy strapped to a bed. For a moment he believed she was dead, and that his soul’s paralysis was grief at her passing. Then he saw his father slumped on the floor next to the bed, and he knew.

 

The man had been evil, had needed to die, and it was a relief to know that he was gone. But Don was completely unprepared for the surge of pain that assailed him at the realisation that his father was gone. He had lacked the time needed to lure his father back over to the light, to draw him away from the Master's power. To win the wider battle they were waging before it was too late he was forced to make this choice, but he knew that it was one he would always regret.

 

His thoughts turned to Ivy. She must escape before anyone came looking for Honigbaum. He threw all his mental energy into loosening the bonds that restrained her. “Get yourself free, girl. Go now before they discover his body,” he whispered into the ether.

 

It was impossible to know whether she would receive his message. Agony gripped him again, but this time he knew it would take much longer to ebb away. The disabling grief of facing the rest of his life knowing he would never meet his father, never find peace in a loving relationship with him, was only just beginning. He doubted that would ever heal.