ARC: Peacemaker (29 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

“
My mother doesn’t exist.”

It sounded crazy when I said it but that’s how I’d always figured it. Dad had never said she was dead, but he’d never said she wasn’t. He just said things didn’t work out very early on and that they’d made the decision that I would be best off with him.

If I ever thought about it, I imagined her as a restless entertainer on the club scene. Someone in counterpoint to him. Someone who found his loner ways and deep convictions attractive but hard to live with forever.

It’d never seemed relevant to ask him for details. I didn’t miss what I’d never had. Most of my friends came from fractured or single parent families, it was no big deal.

But this.
This!

She blanched a little at my reply and recovered herself. “I didn’t expect to meet you under these circumstances, and I don’t have much time. So if you could afford me your patience while I explain some things and I’ll let you get back to your life.”

I was so dumbstruck by how cool she was, that I nodded mutely.

As she began to talk, I felt the rush as the tip-jet lifted into the air.

“Please don’t be alarmed. We are taking you home. But before we land I’d like you to know some things.”

“That would be a change,” I said.

She allowed a tight, small smile then went on. “For some time my organisation has been aware that there is a well planned takeover being orchestrated on many fringe religious groups by an extremely dangerous criminal cluster.”

I waited.

“In the past few years this group has broadened their MO to subvert different professions as well. From an early assessment of our arrests here today, the group that you discovered arriving illegally through the park were intended to infiltrate the highest levels of politics and industry. You are to be commended for you efforts in catching them at it. You are also to be chastised for turning a God-given opportunity into a shit storm.”

I blinked, feeling like a child being told off by her…
mother.
“This group is the Korax?”

“That’s where our conversation becomes delicate.” She nodded to the soldier who walked down the short aisle and disappeared into what I assumed was the cockpit.

“Has the Marshall spoken to you about the Mythos?”

Really? “
A little.”

“The concept is unbelievable, I know. But I’m here to tell you Virgin that they exist. You know that. Look at you. I myself have been victim.”

She pulled her shirt free from her waistband and showed me a scar almost identical to the one on my shoulder, though silvered with age.

“The Mythos have a plan and they are executing it,” she said. “In as little as a decade we could have lost our world to them.”

Her pause felt heavy as she chose her next words carefully.

“Your father had a theory, among many, that if someone was able to unify human mythology, get everyone to believe the same stories, drink from the same cup, if you will, then they would have the ultimate tool of manipulation. He always said that the media had been blundering about in a similar scenario for years but that they were neither cohesive nor cognitive enough to truly achieve it.”

“I’ve read his essay.”

“Your father was a clever, clever man Virgin, but he was limited by his dogmas. Unfortunately his essay found its way to the wrong people, and now, we fear, the Mythos are now trying to accomplish the very thing he predicted.”

“The Mythos are aliens?”

Another smile. This one wearily patronising. “Aliens we could deal with. No, the Mythos are something else.”

“You can’t explain it better than that?”

“You’ve seen them, Virgin. How would you describe them?”

I couldn’t, so I asked another question. “Why am I here?”

“The Marshall has identified you as someone who can help us to manage our impending situation.”

“He’s working for you?”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re recruiting me?”

“Yes. That’s why the police are no longer going to arrest you for various crimes.”

“But I didn’t kill the guy in the park.”

“It looks like you did. If I withdraw my protection from you, you will likely go to jail. So what do you say?”

I looked out the windows. Though they were tinted, I saw the familiar outline of the Cloisters and felt the thump as we made contact with the top of the building.

“I’d like to go home.”

I thought she might protest or blackmail me some more but she just nodded. “We’ll be in touch.”

The soldier reappeared and opened the drone’s sliding door.

I climbed out onto the terrace and left my mother, her bodyguard and her billion-dollar aircraft without a backward glance.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Caro was waiting outside my door, engrossed in her phone screen. She glanced up when the lift pinged open and her mouth dropped open.

“Hey, I got a call from the Feds saying you needed me? They didn’t say I should bring a plastic surgeon.”

The Feds?
On this day nothing would surprise me. I opened up the door with my good hand.

Caro followed me in.

I went straight to the Virgin doll on the sideboard, pulled the eyes out and dropped them and the doll down the laundry chute. When I returned, she was sitting on the cross-legged on the couch staring down at John Flat.

“I’m growing fond of him,” she said.

I got a six pack of beers from the fridge, broke a couple of long necks out of the cardboard holder and passed one to her.

We both took long, belching swigs.

“Well?” she said.

I took a breath. “Here’s the thing: I could be mistaken for a bowl of chow mein, the Marshall’s in hospital looking worse than me, it turns out my stripper boyfriend’s a federal agent, my technician’s a narc, the cops have dropped the murder charges for the time being
–
but only if I work for my bastardly mother who I just met, and happens to be the Commander of the GJIC.

“On the bright side,” I added. “Hamish is a complete legend.”

Her eyes went wide for a moment then she lifted her beer.

“I knew I could smell a story, Ginny,” she said.

I raised my beer as well and clinked hers. “Well Caro, I’ll drink to that!”