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Warehouse EA11751.
It was a strange location for such a rich organisation to base its headquarters. Greene had money, but this is where he’d chosen to station himself; an old and decrepit building at the edges of Sector Eight that didn’t look all that special from the outside. It didn’t stand out. Not amongst the other grimy warehouses of the sector, the ones used by the many factories and industries polluting the station. The headquarters of the Church of the Third Encounter was a dump. A goddamned dump. Regan had reminded me not to judge a book by its cover and assured me that the interior was vastly different.
It was late, night-time, and Regan had told me to meet him here. We’d spent the whole morning chatting, and flirting, over coffee, and when we’d temporarily parted ways, I’d been so buzzed from the coffee that I hadn’t been able to get any work done. Or sleep. I tried to nap to garner a little recovery time from the crossbow and knife, and all the bruises the hitman had inflicted on me, but to no avail. I’d tossed and turned until it had been time to head out to meet Regan.
Still, some painkillers chased by a couple of shots of whiskey before I’d left the office had eased my muscles.
But only a little.
I retrieved a cigarette from my coat pocket and lit up. I knew I shouldn’t be smoking but Queenie wasn’t exactly around to stop me, and Regan had never expressed an opinion either way on the matter. And he wasn’t here yet.
I leaned back against the wall of the alleyway.
I shivered and pulled my jacket closer. It was getting cold, a sudden chill in the air. Damned power reduction, despite what Dionne Bex had said. And I couldn’t believe she was meddling with Lowe’s goddamned experiments again. It was all going to end in misery, no doubt about it.
I took a drag of the cigarette and savoured the smoky burn in my throat and lungs. The poisons gave me a warm feeling throughout my torso. Only alcohol topped this feeling and I regretted not imbibing another whiskey before leaving.
I peeked around the corner.
The Church, sorry warehouse, looked dead. Quiet. Just like all the other buildings. I’d heard that the cult members made a home for themselves within, and if that were the case, they should be asleep; I couldn’t see any sign of lighting or hear any sounds from where I hid. It wasn’t that late, but late enough. Early, though, for those that worshipped aliens; surely, alien spaceships were easier to spot in the middle of the night?
I took another drag and exhaled slow; the smoke was thickened by the warm steam of my breath, and I watched its clouds float into the dark.
What did I know about spotting aliens? I wasn’t exactly an alien expert.
It was certainly odd that someone as affluent as Emmett Greene was here, in a building as squalid as this one, but that was exactly why. A low profile. It was also rumoured that the Church’s members gave up all their worldly possessions when they joined, and I had no doubt it was true. Sounded like a scam. Goddamned con man.
Maybe he was, in reality, the con artist known as The Victor? The culprit connected to my other case, Queenie’s missing statue. I wondered for a moment if the two seemingly unconnected cases were actually connected. It happened more than I expected.
Nah.
I wasn’t that lucky.
And people were just shitty. There were plenty of people willing, sometimes more than willing, to take advantage of others, use and abuse others. It was the way of the universe. Everyone was like it. Except maybe...
“Regan.” I threw the half-used cigarette to the ground and stamped it out.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he said. “I had to find the perfect clothes for our little B and E tonight.”
“B and E?”
“Break and Enter.”
“No-one calls it that.”
“Oh. Anyway,” he waved his hands up and down his body; he wore all black including a polo-neck jumper and sweats, “what do you think?”
“Looks designer.”
“It is.” He grinned.
“This isn’t a joke and it’s not supposed to be fun.”
“It’s all I had! Honestly!”
“We’re about the break the law and sneak into what might be a heavily guarded, although I’ve seen no evidence of that yet, cult full of nutjob zealots who’ll probably slit our throats and sacrifice us at the slightest misstep.”
“Stop exaggerating.” said Regan. “I trust you, Jack. I don’t think you’re going to let that happen. Plus, I know the layout. And it isn’t heavily guarded either. We’ll be in and out, promise.” He was almost bouncing on the spot with excitement.
“Calm down or we’ll definitely get caught.” I grabbed his arm, and he paused his movements. “This is serious.”
“Oh, come on,” he raised an eyebrow and grinned, “we can have a little fun too.”
“You asked for my help with this damned case of yours; you need to listen to me.”
“Sorry,” he said with a mischievous glint, “you are the expert after all.” He was being flirtatiously insincere. “Honestly, you’ve been doing this kinda thing a lot longer than me.”
“Yes, yes I have,” I said. I took another glance around the corner; it would be time to make a move very soon. “And please don’t remind me about our age difference.”
“Age is only a number.” He blew a kiss at me.
“I thought I said to keep this serious?”
Regan rolled his eyes. “Okay, Mr Gemini.”
I took hold of his arm and guided him out of the alley, keeping our backs to the wall of the building opposite to our target and out of sight from the dimmed illuminations of the streetlights. We were close to the barrier separating Sector Eight from the edges of the dome; it was also close to where Graves... Too close.
I pulled Regan across the street and into the shadow of the warehouse. We stopped. I looked round, scoping the scene; there was no-one but us and I found myself thinking that this whole thing was somewhat romantic. I looked back at my partner. I could see his nerves, he was shaking, despite the earlier confidence. His hand was damp with sweat. I squeezed it to reassure him and flashed a smile in his direction.
“We need to get around back,” the other man whispered as our hands unclasped. “There’s a fire door that’s not particularly well secured.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for this? Breaking the law, I mean.”
“You think this is my first time.”
“Smoking drugs in college doesn’t count,” I said. “Everyone experiments.”
“Hey!” said Regan. He rubbed his hands together; he should’ve worn something warmer. “I was a good boy!”
“We’ll see about that.” I smiled to myself.
“Now who’s the one not taking this seriously?”
“If you say so,” I said. “This better be worth it.”
“At least we’ll get to spend some time together whatever happens.” I could see him grinning in the dark. “Grow closer.” He moved toward me, moving into my personal space and I could almost feel his heart beating fast. “Be bad,” he whispered.
“Umm, let’s make a move.” I stepped back. My heart was pounding too. “Or the night will be over before we’ve even started.” I was beginning to get the feeling this whole thing really was a ruse just as I’d suspected, an excuse to be with me, but I needed to remember Queenie.
Regan led me to the back of the dilapidated warehouse and there was indeed a door tucked behind the large refuse bins. I listened for any sound, any indication that we might not be alone but, nothing; I couldn’t even hear anything coming from inside the building.
“Where does this lead again?” I inspected the lock; it would be easy to short out the mechanism.
“Kitchens,” he said. “I think.”
“You think?”
He shrugged. “I’m not usually here this late.”
I sighed and bust open the control mechanism with a well-aimed kick; it almost threw out my back and I tried not to show my discomfort to the young man that I accompanied. I was getting damned old.
“You okay?”
I ignored him and stuck my fingers into the lock box. I pulled on some of the wires. Sparks. A green light. The sound of a mechanical bolt sliding back. We were in.
“Let’s go,” I said. I opened the door ajar, but there was no light emanating from inside. A good sign. I slipped into the room beyond. It was the kitchen, as guessed by my partner in crime, and the clean, metal finishes of the furniture and fixtures within, barely visible in the gloom, were in stark contrast to the exterior of the building. “Close the door,” I whispered as Regan entered behind me. “Quietly.”
I used the light of my SmartBoy to survey the room. We were alone in the large kitchen of the church. It had to be communal, rather than just shared, and looked almost like the kitchen’s you’d find in large work canteens, except cheaper. It was clean, yes, but nothing was high-tech or new. Cheap. And still an improvement on the outside of the building. I suspected most of the profits went directly to Emmett Greene and not to the maintenance of this place.
“This way,” said Regan. He led me through and passed the multiple burners and fridges to another door. It opened into the dining area where rows of tables and chairs met us. Again, the room was clean but cheap; it had flimsy fake wood furniture. “We need to get into the main hall and then upstairs to the offices.”
The other man edged open the dining room exit, and light flooded in from the room beyond. I bolted out from the revealing illumination; Regan had been a little careless by opening the door before I was closer to him.
I cautioned him from opening the door any further. “I think there’s someone out there,” I whispered in his ear. I’d caught a glimpse of at least one figure, a human shape, in my brief exposure to the glow. “Keep back.”
“I...” He stepped forward.
I slammed my hand over his lips and pushed him against the wall and out of sight of the doorway. I pressed myself right up against him, held him back, with my face close to his. I could feel the tickle of air from his nostrils over my fingers and I’m sure he could feel my breath against his face. We were damned close. There was a look of understanding in his eyes, and I released him.
I could hear voices from the hall beyond. One was familiar. I risked a glance through the opening in the door, conscious that the gloom would likely shroud my face.
“I understand,” said Gary Emmerson. He was bowing, almost ducking in response to one of the disciples of the church. He was being very subservient; his voice was meek and apologetic. “When will he see me?” The pair were at the far end of the corridor, near a set of stairs. “I’ve been trying to see him for weeks.”
“He’ll be in touch as soon as he’s free,” said the acolyte, a woman dressed in off-white overalls. Who, I wondered? “We’ve already told you many times that shouldn’t come here; he’ll come to you.”
“I know I know but he left me with no choice.” Was he talking about Emmett Greene? “He’s not returning my calls, or my messages. He’s blocked me.” Or was there another connection between Gary Emmerson and the Church of the Third Encounter? “I really need to see him; it’s important.” I knew he was obsessed with the place, but something didn’t smell right. “This was all I could do.” There was something else going on here.
“And now all we can do is call security,” said the woman. “We warned you over and over.” She held up her SmartBoy in her hand. “They won’t be long; if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be gone by the time they get here. We’re locking down the premises.”
“This isn’t right, you know.”
I could see the woman shrug from where Regan and I hid, despite the distance. This was going to throw a bit of a spanner in our plans for the evening. Security. Two buff and muscular persons straddled either side of Gary, and whereas on any other day I wouldn’t mind being caught in a sandwich between a pair of muscles, tonight would not be the night. We wouldn’t stand a chance against them. My partner in crime had assured me they wouldn’t be a problem but that seemed to have changed. At least for this evening. The appearance of my acquaintance, and sometimes collaborator, and now the two security guards, would make it difficult to reach the offices unseen, nevermind leave the complex unharmed.
“Jack,” whispered Regan. He pulled in my arm.
“I know. Goddammit.”
We watched as Gary Emmerson retreated from his encounter with the disciple and we left soon after, leaving by the way we’d entered.
Damn it.
We’d need to come back another time, another night.
And I’d need to speak to Gary Emmerson about why he was at the Church of the Third Encounter.