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“What the f...?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is for the best, trust me; I can keep you safe, protect you from whoever tried to kill your mother.”
“You bastard!” Tears poured down his face. “You damned bastard!” He tried to shake himself loose, but both my grip and the handcuffs kept him close.
I felt guilty.
But this was for the best.
I held Regan as he cried, I hugged him tight. It felt strange comforting someone I’d ensnared but I gave him the time to cry.
The bar was beginning to empty out, the Saturday night crowd moving on to the nightclubs to blow off some steam, and thankfully this meant we weren’t drawing much attention. It also helped that Callaghan’s wasn’t well lit, and that we were sat out of the way. I felt that Regan wasn’t one to shy aware from his feelings but, for my line of work, ‘the less attention the better’ was the rule to follow; working in the shadows allowed for a lot more freedom.
I don’t know how long we were there, how long I comforted him, but the sobs lessened, and his body stopped shaking with grief.
He leant back, breaking away, but staying close to me, head down.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
His face lifted, slow and steady, and revealed a mischievous grin. “I’m perfectly fine thank you very much,” said Regan. Gone were the trembling vibratos of a man upset; he was calm and confident. “You’re a sneaky little bastard, aren’t you?” His flirty tone returned. “I’m sure we could make better use of those handcuffs another time, yes?”
“I’m seeing someone,” I said. As if that was important right now.
He gave me a quizzical glance.
“I made a promise to bring you in.”
“How much money did they offer you?”
“Enough.”
“Who? Who was it that offered you the money? Calesthetica? Elongate?”
“Believe it or not it was the police,” I told him. “I don’t know why I need to answer your questions; you’re my prisoner.”
Regan leaned in close, his lips next to my ear. “Are you sure about that?” he whispered. His breath tickled the hairs on my skin, and I heard a click. “You don’t have me handcuffed anymore.” He slid back in the seat and folded his arms with a big smirk on his face. He nodded with his head, a gesture for me to look down.
“Goddammit.” Somehow, and without me realising it, he’d managed to pick himself out of the cuffs and chain both my wrists together instead.
“Now, Jack,” he said, still wearing a smirk, “you’re going to answer some of my questions.”
I nodded and gripped my wine glass with both hands. I considered for a moment throwing it at my captor, a distraction, but decided against it; it was damned pointless and would achieve nothing. I took a drink of the acrid wine instead. I needed to bide my time and find a chance to turn the tables back around on Regan. The handcuff keys were still in the pocket of my jacket after all.
“Was it really the police that asked you to find me?”
“Yes, a friend, or rather, a close acquaintance, asked me,” I said. “He’s part of a taskforce investigating this copycat killer.”
“Copycat killer?”
“The guy who’s been mimicking Augustus Smith; you should really follow the news.” I took another sip of the wine. It was surprisingly difficult to drink when forced to use both hands at once. “You should know that name; you said you read the file your mother had about me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Regan. He followed suit and took a drink of his own wine. “I know who Augustus Smith is; the Church love him too. Think he’s an alien.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“What I don’t know is anything a copycat killer.”
“It was reported yesterday,” I said. “Someone’s been killing people pretending to be The Emerald Killer. Might be a connection.”
“I told you, I don’t really watch the news and I haven’t had a chance to catch up,” said the man. “I’ve been busy. Aside from what the Church think of him, all I know about Augustus Smith is that you chased him... all those years ago. What’s this got to do with my mother?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. Or at least, I’d like to know what’s the link between your mother and this goddamn copycat killer. He’s the one who put her in the coma.”
“Do you think it might have something, “ he wiped away a tear that had escaped; his earlier crying had been real after all, “to do with the Church of the Third Encounter?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Smith, real one or not, connects you, the Church and your mother. Why do you ask?”
“Do you trust the person who asked you to come and get me?”
“Good question. Suede is too stupid to mastermind anything nefarious.”
“Suede? I know that name.” He winced as he sipped more wine. “Suede and Johnson. I know those names from your file.”
“You know what happened last year.”
“Yep.” He laughed. “I know you saved everyone and everything.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” I shifted my arms onto my lap, ready to try and get the keys from my pocket. “Just how much do you know about me?”
“Enough,” said Regan. He smiled. “Enough to know I can trust you.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and I froze at the contact. Was my escape attempt about to be discovered or was he just trying to be friendly? “I know who you really are, Jack.”
“Okay?”
His voice lowered. “I know you’re from a parallel universe.”
“Your esteemed mother left that in the file, did she? Ms Bex is not as good as keeping secrets as she likes to think.”
Regan nodded. “And it doesn’t bother me in the slightest,” he said. “In fact, I find it rather intriguing... and attractive.” He winked. This attempt at flirting was... disastrous. “Exotic.”
“I’ve never been called damned exotic in my life! I laughed. My hands shifted in tandem to the right, ready to reach into my pocket. “Exotic! Ha! You’re delusional!”
“You’re the closest thing to an alien we’re ever going to get,” said Regan. “I mean, you’re literally from another world.”
“Don’t say that; I’ll have your damned cultists after me!”
“I’m sure they’d worship you.”
“Don’t start on that either,” I said. “I don’t need that kind of attention.” My hands slipped into my pocket to find... nothing.
My face must’ve betrayed me because Regan dangled something small and metal in front of my eyes.
“Looking for something?” He quickly snatched away the handcuff keys from my face and grinned. “You didn’t think things were going to be that easy, right?” He made a point of showing me the keys in the palm of his hand before closing his fist on them. “I’m not stupid, quite the opposite in fact. You’re mine. For now.” He giggled. “I could have my way with you.”
I rolled my eyes and resigned myself to a life of captivity. “What do you want?” I sighed.
“I told you,” said Regan. “I want you to help with my case.”
“Taking down a powerful cult.” I placed my cuffed hands on the table. “You don’t even have a plan.”
“I do; I’m gathering intelligence.” He picked up the wine bottle and gestured at me. I nodded and the man topped up both out glasses. “I’m undercover, going to work my way up through the organisation. I just clean the kitchens and bathrooms at the moment, but not for long.”
“Not a great plan,” I said. “The longer you’re undercover, and I imagine it’s going to take more than a bit of time to move upwards, the more chances you have of being found out. That’s considering they don’t already know who you are and aren’t already playing you. You did, after all, say there was a connection between them and your mother; maybe they know who you are. Maybe they’re biding their time for whatever they have planned.”
“They don’t know who I am.” He took a sip of wine. “Trust me.”
“Trust you?” I held up my chained wrists. “Trust you?!”
“I’m only returning the favour. You did the same to me.”
“I had good reason.”
“As did I.” Regan placed his hand on my shoulder and smiled. “I think we’re going to have a fun working relationship.”
“Yes, because it’s hilarious so far,” I said, dryly. I drank more booze. “This wine really is disgusting.” It was leaving a vile aftertaste; my teeth felt furry.
“Next time we’ll share a bottle of expensive whiskey,” said Regan. “Although, you’ll have to help me get a taste for the stuff. Never been much of a fan.”
“Next time?”
He nodded. “Oh, there will be a next time, I can promise you that!” He finished off his wine and stood.
“You mean when you decide to come with me?”
He shook his head. “When you decide to help me with my case.”
“And what makes you think I’ll help?” I said. “I don’t think your case has much merit and you’re in too deep.”
“I’m going to leave now and give you some time think through what I’m about to tell you,” said Regan. He placed his hands on his hips. “My mother wasn’t the only person to keep a file on you,” he said. “Emmett Greene, leader of The Church of the Third Encounter, also has a file on you.” He flashed a knowing smirk. “I’ll be in touch... soon.”
He threw the handcuff keys on the table, turned on his heel and darted through the bar’s doors out into the street. I was left alone with my thoughts.