Moonheart (66 page)

He finally caught a city policeman's eye. He flashed his government ID— just enough to let the patrolman think that he was here on official business. "I'm here to see RCMP Special Inspector John Tucker," he shouted.

"Wait here."

The officer returned with a tall man in corduroys and a windbreaker. His right hand was wrapped in bandages. His left held a cigarette. "My name's Constable Dan Collins," he said. "Who did you want to see?"

"Inspector Tucker. John Tu—" Before Jean-Paul could finish, Collins had turned aside to the policeman.

"Let him through," he said. "If you'll come with me, Mr...?"

"Gagnon. What exactly is going on here, Constable?"

"Maybe you could tell me what you're doing here first."

Collins recognized Jean-Paul's name, but made no mention of it.

"I was at a friend's home when I saw all of... this on the television.
C'est incroyable!
"

"And what made you think the Inspector would be here?"

"He was investigating a case that he thought might have some connection with Tamson House,
n'est-ce pas?
When I saw this chaos on the news bulletin, I had to come."

They reached the part of the park that faced the gap blown out of the side of the house. Three men were having an animated discussion that stopped abruptly as they came up to them.

"Who's this?" Madison demanded.

"Jean-Paul Gagnon," Collins said. "He's looking for the Inspector."

Madison regarded Jean-Paul for a few moments. "We think he's in there, Mr. Gagnon," he said finally. "Do you have some information for him?"

"No. I saw this on the news and... My friend— Kieran Foy. The Inspector wanted him for questioning and I thought they might both be here."

Madison recalled Tucker's report. Gagnon had been very cooperative, but he didn't need civilians cluttering up the landscape.

"I appreciate your coming down, Mr. Gagnon, but if you have no information for us, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stand clear with the other spectators." He said the word as though it was a disease. "What we've got here is so far off the wall..."He turned to Collins. "Did you get a preliminary report back from the morgue yet?"

"Yeah. But they've got nothing definite yet. They pulled in a couple of experts from Agriculture Canada and the National Museum-biologists and a couple of hotshot naturalist experts."

"And?"

"They won't be quoted on this, but their initial probes show that these things are literally not of this world. They're sending one of their men down here and asked if we could 'refrain from killing any more of them.' "

"Jesus!" Madison turned to Jean-Paul. "Do you see what we're dealing with?"

"
Mor dieu!
It is as John said then? You are dealing with
des sorciers?
"

"We don't know what we're dealing with. But we're going to find out. We're just getting ready to send a team in through that hole— specialists from our anti-terrorist squad. Now, if you'll excuse us, Mr. Gagnon?"

Jean-Paul nodded and backed away. The men immediately fell into a discussion as to their best method of operation and he found himself unobserved. That was fine. He would stay out of their way, but close enough to watch the proceedings. If they brought Kieran out, he would make sure that he wasn't spirited away to some hidden detention center for questioning. If Kieran was involved in this, he would need a friend.

Dismissing Gagnon from his mind, Madison returned to his briefing. The two men with him were Corporal Karl Holger, RCMP Anti-Terrorist Squad, and Lieutenant Tom Deverell of the Ottawa City Police Department. Madison had already been in touch with his superiors and been given the go-ahead.

"Your men ready, Corporal?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tom, can you get your men to clear a few more blocks? Once the squad goes in there's no telling what they'll stir up. We don't know how many of those things are in there. If they break out through the cordon..."

"We're working on it, Wally. But we're walking a thin line now between the normal gawkers and outright panic. Bad enough the TV crews got shots of those monsters of yours. We're playing it like you asked— terrorists in monkey suits. They tried to hit the Embassy over on O'Connor, failed, and took refuge in this House of yours. The media's not buying it, but they're willing to play it our way for now."

"I don't care about the media," Madison said. "Not right now. I'm just worried about what'll happen if more of these monsters break free of the cordon and get into that crowd."

"We're doing what we can."

"Okay."

Madison looked up at the House. Already the gap was starting to look smaller. It hadn't closed up as quick as the windows, but it was still closing. Sooner or later someone was going to notice. And when word of this leaked out, there'd be hell to pay.

"Take your men in, Corporal," he said. "And watch yourselves. I don't know what they've got those walls pumped up with, but you take a bad burn off of them."

Holger tipped a finger to his forehead and crossed the grass to where his squad was waiting for him. They were dressed in dark khaki and bullet-proof vests, with combat helmets that had gridded face-guards that could be snapped down in place. Each man carried an SMG— standard military issue, 9mm, with twenty rounds per magazine. They had folding stocks to extend the carabine's closed length and spare magazines clipped to their belts. The squad would have preferred Israeli UZIs.

"Hey, Holger," a big black man asked the Corporal. "Are we going in?"

"You got it, Wilson."

" 'Bout time."

Madison and Collins watched the squad make their approach. Two ladders slapped against the edges of the gap and men were going up them almost before they were in place. Three of the squad had remained behind, standing well back from the ladders, carbines aimed at the hole. When the last of their comrades had entered, they followed suit.

Madison waited, found he was holding his breath, let it out slowly. A minute ticked by. When a voice squawked from the walkie-talkie he was holding, he jumped.

"You read me, Superintendent?" Wilson's deep voice sounded tinny coming from the small speaker.

"Loud and clear," Madison replied. "What have you got?"

"We've got a mess. Place looks like it was torn apart by an anti-tank gun. We've got one body— an old man, Caucasian, looks to be in his early sixties, severe burns about his face and chest. We— Just a moment. Corporal Holger says the corridors appear to be clear. Do you want to come up and take a look for yourself?"

"I'm on my way."

Madison handed Collins the walkie-talkie and started for the House.

"I don't think this is such a good idea," Collins said, trailing after the Superintendent. "You going up there."

Madison paused with his hand on the ladder and looked back. "I don't see as we have a whole lot of choice, Dan," he said. "We don't know where Tucker is. We don't know what's going on in there, but we've got a better idea than Holger and his men do. One of us has got to be on hand. You've got your burn, so that leaves me."

"And you've got your leg."

"But at least I can fire a weapon. Look, Dan. Neither one of us knows exactly what we're up against, but at least we know some of the whom better than Holger and his men do. One of us has to be in on this."

"Okay," Collins said. "Just don't play the hero."

"You've got a bargain, Dan."

They clasped hands, and then Madison started up the ladder.

By the time he was nearing the top, Madison was a bundle of nerves. Gingerly he left the last rung and stepped into the rubble. He felt a mild shock— it touched his bad leg most strongly— but saw nothing in front of him. Just a wall of grey. He looked back. The crowds and police barricades seemed very far away. It was almost quiet up here, the crowd noise just a faint murmur. Turning back to the House, he took a deep breath and stepped into the greyness.

A sensation hit him, like a feeling of vertigo. He would have stumbled, but someone caught him by the arm, steadied him. He looked up to see one of Holger's men holding him and nodded thanks.

"Weird shit, isn't it?" Wilson said. "I forgot to warn you 'bout it."

Madison looked back, but instead of the wall of grey, or the park, he saw wild bushland bordering a field. The House appeared to be in the middle of it.

"I forgot to warn you 'bout that, too," Wilson said.

"What in God's name..."

"I don't know 'bout you," Wilson said, "but I don't think God's got a whole lot to do with this place. You recognize the victim?"

Madison followed the man's finger with his gaze and nodded. It was Traupman. "Have you found any other bodies?"

"Not so far, Superintendent. Holger's waiting for you in the hall. C'mon." Wilson turned to the two other men that were in the room. "You guys hold this place, right? One at the gap, one at the door. Let's go, Superintendent."

They found Holger at a landing on their right. The Corporal looked up as they approached, frowned when he saw that Madison wasn't wearing any protective gear.

"We found some more of your monsters down below, Superintendent," he reported. "From what we can tell, it looks as though they were burned to death— like the man upstairs."

"Anything... human?"

"One more man," Holger said. "But these things... I've never seen anything like this. What the hell
are
they?"

"Where's the other body? The human body?" Madison's stomach was starting to react again. God, the stench in this place. It was like a charnel house.

Holger led him to one of the doors leading outside. In front of it lay the remains of a man who had been literally torn in half. Madison's stomach gave a lurch, but he forced himself to look. His gaze stopped at a severed head, then he looked away.

"Hengwr," he said. "That... was Thomas Hengwr."

"Whatever did that— I don't think it was the same as those creatures we've found so far."

Madison saw the strain in the man's features. He was doing a good job of maintaining a professional air of detachment, but it was costing him, "What makes you say that?"

Holger shook his head. "Can't put my finger on it. It's more just a feeling. The creatures look fairly strong, but to tear a man in two like that— I just don't think they're big enough. Look at the size of their paws and talons. They might've torn him to bits, but they couldn't have cut him in two like that." He lifted his face-guard and wiped his brow before replacing it. "Jesus. Let's get a move on. I just hope the rest of this place isn't filled up with more of the same."

"You want me to call up forensics?" Wilson asked. "Let 'em get a start on the two we've found so far?"

"Not yet," Madison replied. "Let's have more of a look around first."

He didn't know if he was going to make it through this. The smell was bad enough. But seeing Traupman back in the other room, and now Hengwr...

"Upstairs or down?" Holger asked. "We could split up and—"

"No. We stick together."

They followed the corridor north, to the side of the house that would have faced Patterson and made their way to the ground floor.

"Christ," Holger murmured. "How big is this place anyway?"

"Too big," Madison replied.

Rounding the corner, they found more of the dead creatures, though not as many as with the first group. There were two human bodies here. They looked like they'd been savaged by the creatures, but not dealt with as Hengwr had been. That added fuel to the argument that something else had killed Hengwr. What kind of something else?

"You recognize them?" Holger asked.

Madison shook his head.

"I've got a real bad feeling 'bout this place," Wilson said softly. "Like something's watching us, you know?"

One of the other men started to nod, then froze. "Down there," he said. "I saw something move."

"I don't see anyth—"

Suddenly the corridor, behind and in front of them, was swarming with the creatures. The SMGs chattered, dropping the first line of them in a spate of bullets.

"In here!" Wilson shouted.

The men moved for the comparative safety of the room he indicated where at least the creatures could only attack them a few at a time, but before the echoes of gunfire had faded, the halls were empty once more. All that remained were the creatures that had been gunned down.

"We've got to get out of here," Holger said. "The place must be crawling with them."

Madison nodded. "We need more firepower. Christ! We need an army."

"I think I'd prefer a few mad-dog terrorists," Wilson muttered as they made their way cautiously back to the stairs. "Leastways, they like to yap a bit before they jump you."

"Amen," one of the men said.

"Anything?" Lieutenant Deverell asked Collins.

The RCMP constable shook his head.

"Hasn't been a thing," he said as he shook out a Pall Mall and accepted a light from Deverell. "How're things on the front lines?"

The Lieutenant grinned. "The rabble are restless. But they're starting to thin out some." He pointed to the walkie-talkie that Collins had stuck in his pocket. "Why don't you give them a call?"

"Sure."

As he started to reach for it, one of Deverell's officers came up to them.

"Lieutenant?"

"Watcha got, Zurowski?"

"Guy wants to see you. A Mr. Walters. J. Hugh Walters."

Deverell blinked. "
The
J. Hugh Walters?"

"That's what he says."

"Where is he?"

"Over there." The officer pointed back towards Bank Street. "Standing between those two goons. Business associates, he calls them, but I know goons when I see them. What do you think a guy like him's doing with a pair like that?"

"I don't know. But I mean to find out."

"Wait a minute," Collins said. Something clicked inside him. Nothing he could pin down— just an intuitive feeling that he knew he had to play out. "Do me a favor, would you?" he asked Deverell. "Stick to the story we've been giving the press— no matter what he says. Can you do that?"