Grace stood by the window in the back room and watched until Remy had disappeared into the trees behind the library. He’d come back. He’d see sense and realise that her plan was the only way of dealing with his problem. Even if he was a psychopath, he’d figure out his best chances of survival rested with her, and psychopaths always took their best chances of survival.
She switched her phone light on, the only light in the back office other than the small army lamp that sat by Remy’s army pack. She couldn’t resist so she sat on the pod and lifted the flap on the pack. There wasn’t much, mainly army issue, a small shower and shave kit, food rations, a health pack and supplements, some underwear. Lottie would be sad if she could see her boy living such a meagre existence.
In one of the front pockets, she felt something hard and flat. When she took it out, she saw it was a brightly coloured plastic ‘Funland’ keyring with a photo of the two of them, identical to the one she always carried in the zipped pocket in her bag.
He had kept it all this time.
She held the photo between her fingers and smiled sadly at the image of the two of them laughing on the rollercoaster. There had been so many good times. They had meant so much to each other. If he was psychopathic, he wouldn’t have shown so much care for her, would he? Unless he was getting something out of their friendship that she couldn’t see. He was still her friend, the only family she had.
She was so confused. Had everything he’d told her been true? Or had he just been manipulating her?
She’d done this the wrong way – she could see that now. If he wasn’t a psychopath then he would be offended by her attitude. If he was a psychopath, then what was the point of telling him that he needed to be cured? He wouldn’t care! What she had to do was to somehow come up with a plan to persuade him to come with her, that it would all be to his advantage. If he was cunning and manipulative, then she would have to match him.
She heard a shuffling in the main library and quickly shoved everything back in the pack, except for the keyring she was still holding.
She stood up, ready to work on him.
‘Remy, I’m sorry,’ she called out. ‘Come on. Let’s talk it over.’
The shuffling outside stopped.
She sighed heavily. He’d been stubborn and unrepentant as a kid. She couldn’t imagine that having changed. She put her head around the door to the main library. It was dark and shadowy beyond the weak light of the oil lamp.
Grace moved forward, trying to avoid slipping on the pages of abandoned books. She came out of the back room and stood behind the counter. She could see his outline by the door, but her eyes were still adjusting to the dark. He moved a little closer to her but didn’t speak.
‘Look, I’m sorry, I’ve got no right to march back into your life after fifteen years and try to tell you what to do,’ she began. ‘Maybe I can get you a biochip somehow…’
She felt guilty, knowing she was manipulating him. But it was for his own good. She would persuade him to come with her to Janus to get a chip, and then what? She would decide as she went along. All she needed to do now was just get him in her car.
First things first.
He stood still by the door. God, was she going to have to beg him? He hadn’t lost his stubborn streak, then.
Her phone beeped. Where are you? Had Dan not got her last message? I just rang your work. I know you’re not there.
Bloody hell. She was in for it now.
There was a shuffling by the door. He moved a bit closer. Why was he being like this? She was exhausted and now dreading going home and having to come up with something to tell Dan. She didn’t need Remy having a strop.
‘I’m too tired for this right now. I’ll come back tomorrow and we’ll talk then. Hopefully you’ll see sense and I’ll be able to help you get away from…’
A bright light burst on, blinding her. She put her hand up to shield her eyes.
‘Jesus, Remy, switch it off!’
He said nothing and the light stayed on.
‘Get that out of my face, Rem!’
She heard a noise to her left and began to feel afraid. Was there more than one person there?
The light swivelled upwards and as her vision readjusted she could see silhouettes of people moving around.
Three people.
She felt as though she’d just drunk a freezing cold glass of water.
It had only been a matter of time before the protestors found her. They must have followed her straight from Janus.
Streetwise Gracie tried to talk her way out of it. ‘Look, I don’t agree with Aversion Therapy either,’ she began. ‘I don’t even want to work in Tier Three, I’m only doing it so that I can… I’m only in there to get information for NewsFlex so they can throw it open. I’m one of you. I swear—’
Two more torches burst into life and Grace knew she was in trouble.
She could see them now – a tall, lean, dark-haired man held a gun pointed in her direction, leering at her. Another man, smaller, shuffled by the door, facing away. But the man in front of her, holding his torch against his cheek so that his face was lit up like a terrifying mask – he was the one who frightened her the most.
He wasn’t particularly tall but he was broad, the outline of his muscles neat beneath his tight black top. His grey hair was almost white at the temples. He stood almost perfectly still, his lips hinting at a smile, his ice-blue eyes locked on Grace.
‘Shut up,’ said the leader. He spoke calmly, quietly, almost pleasantly.
Grace’s blood ran cold. He was the man from the photograph that Remy had shown her. They weren’t protestors. They were after Remy.
The smaller man twitched and moved closer to the door.
‘Stay!’ commanded the leader, without looking back at him.
The man froze and then slowly turned back.
The tall one, on the other hand, didn’t move his eyes from her body, taking in every detail from her head to her feet and then back up again.
Grace pulled her jacket tighter around her. The men stood between her and the main door. They’d catch her before she could get to the back door. The windows were too small and too high up in this part of the library for her to get out of. Where was Remy when she needed him? Gone off in a bad mood because he hadn’t got what he wanted!
She could see no escape.
The leader took a step towards her and said, ‘You need to tell us where Remy is… right now.’
Mal hadn’t thought things through. His father had often told him he hadn’t the brains to understand consequences.
She was prettier this close up and somehow that made it worse. He regretted not waiting for her to leave before he’d called the others. All he’d been thinking of at the time was to save his own skin. He knew better than anyone how cruel Sarge could be.
Mal longed for an alternate universe in which he’d gone with Remy six months ago, instead of standing here as a dog in Sarge’s hunting pack, about to attack this poor woman.
If only he’d kept his big mouth shut! He could sense Bizzy’s interest in her. His mind travelled back to the woman in the warehouse with the Embers Rapist. If only he could let Grace out of the back door like her, shuffle her away from whatever the hell was about to be unleashed.
‘Look, I don’t know who you are…’ Grace lied.
‘We know who you are, Grace Gunnarsson.’ Sarge took another step towards her and Mal could see her eyes widen, her body tense. ‘And we know that you’re trying to fix Aversion Therapy.’
‘Diros,’ she said quietly.
‘Ah, you’ve heard of us,’ Sarge said. ‘But, you see, Grace, here’s the thing.’ He took another step towards her. Mal felt his chest tighten, his breaths shortening. ‘You’re a threat to our mission.’
Our mission.
Mal knew he wasn’t one of them. Not any more. It was no longer about bounty hunting or vigilantism. Their darkness was growing rapidly, feeding off their deeds. Cruelty for cruelty’s sake.
‘And Remy… well, he’s been disloyal.’
Mal shifted uncomfortably.
‘We’re going to deal with you, Grace, and we’re going to wait here for Remy, and then we’re going to deal with him too.’ Sarge chuckled to himself and hung his head for a moment. When he looked up he directed his gaze towards Mal. ‘Disloyalty breaks down trust. No trust, no brotherhood.’
Mal turned away.
‘We’ve had serious breaches of loyalty before,’ Sarge said. ‘What do we do if someone’s been disloyal, Biz?’ Bizzy was still looking the woman up and down. His attention snapped towards Sarge but it was clear to Mal that he hadn’t heard the question.
For a moment no one spoke.
‘We give them an opportunity for redemption, or we make them pay,’ Mal said slowly, uneasy with the silence.
‘Which is it going to be?’ asked Sarge, turning towards Mal. ‘Do you want an opportunity to make up for your disloyalty after that fuck-up at the big house? Or do you want to pay?’
When he didn’t answer Sarge said, ‘It’s you or her, Mal.’
‘But she hasn’t done anything wrong.’ Mal stammered. ‘We punish people who get away with things… not the innocent.’
‘Justice,’ Sarge said quietly, ‘guilt, innocence. What does it matter?’
Sarge reached to the back of his belt and pulled out a gun, took off the safety catch. He held it out. Mal’s tongue felt rough in his mouth.
Time slowed, the blood rushed in Mal’s head, his heart beating out a rhythmic countdown to a terrible, inescapable fate.
Grace let out a little cry and he stole a glance at her, ashamed.
It’s you or her, cockroach.
Sarge still held the gun out, as he unwrapped a pellet chewing gum with his free hand and put it in his mouth.
If Mal didn’t prove his loyalty he’d end up like poor Josh, whose mum would always be left wondering what had happened to her boy.
He took an uncertain step towards Sarge.
Grace cried out, ‘Don’t… please!’
He took hold of the gun. It was heavier than he expected, and warm from Sarge’s grip. He swallowed hard and lifted his arm, pointed the snub-nose at her. It was self-preservation, wasn’t it? You or her, cockroach…
‘Please don’t,’ she whispered, tears running down her cheeks.
Bizzy watched, eyes wide with excitement.
The sting of sweat broke out on Mal’s forehead as placed his trembling finger on the trigger and tried to slow his breathing. A wisp of light caught his eye behind one of the dilapidated shelves to his right. Was it Layla, drifting between the remnants of the books, her expression one of sorrow at what he had become?
All eyes were on him; Grace terrified, Bizzy excited, Sarge expressionless.
‘I can’t,’ he stammered, lowering the gun slightly.
The words shattered the tension.
‘Fucking chickenshit,’ Bizzy spat. ‘I knew he wouldn’t do it, boss!’
Sarge sighed heavily and Mal knew he’d failed the test. The gun hung from his trigger finger, flaccid. He reached out to return it to Sarge, a man who hated weakness more than anything.
‘You give me no choice,’ sighed Sarge.
Mal looked over to where Layla’s spectre moved between the shelves. We’ll be together soon, my love. She would forgive him for being weak. She would forgive him, too, for having feelings for Grace. They were nothing like what he felt for Layla, of course. She would understand.
He closed his eyes and braced himself, waiting for the bang, Layla filling his mind. She was all around him, trying to reassure him, tell him it would be over quickly.
But there was only silence.
When Mal finally opened his eyes, Sarge had tucked the gun away and was flicking through the pages of one of the ancient books as though nothing had happened.
His hopes rose, but he’d seen Sarge in action too many times.
There would be worse to come.
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ Sarge said, chewing his gum loudly. He pulled out a wad of cash from inside a zipped-up trouser pocket and thrust it towards Mal. ‘Call Thumbs. Tell him I want a fuck-load of heroin. Take the car. We’ll wait until Remy gets back, make it look like he killed her – drug deal gone wrong.’ He grinned at Grace. ‘Remy’s got form.’
Two birds, one stone.
Mal reluctantly took the money and turned towards the door, knowing it was only a matter of time before he was dealt with too. The plastic money felt slippery between his fingers. He could make a run for it. But where would he go? He had nothing, no one, besides Diros.
As he pushed the door open, he heard Bizzy chatting like an excited puppy. ‘Can I have a go, Sarge?’
Mal turned back, horrified.
‘Whatever,’ Sarge said, without looking at him as he turned his attention to the few books remaining on the shelves.
‘Biz, what the hell?’ Mal said, his hand on the door.
‘Mal’s fallen for you,’ Biz said with a laugh, as he grabbed Grace by the arm. ‘But I’ll show you what a real man does.’ He stared at Mal with an evil grin and pushed Grace towards the back room.
Fury raged through Mal’s body. He stood rooted to the ground, his position in the pack too precarious to challenge Bizzy. If only he’d been there when those animals attacked his Layla.
But he knew he didn’t have it in him.
Biz was right. He was chickenshit.
‘Just get the drugs, yeah?’ said Sarge, as though he was talking about buying a pint of milk from the corner shop.
Mal pushed open the door and stood at the threshold for a moment, the cold breeze on his face cooling his burning guilt, listening to Grace’s howls as she was ushered into the storeroom.
He didn’t leave, but instead turned back and shouted hopelessly, ‘Biz, you don’t have to do this!’