The Arx (37 page)

They headed down a dimly lit passage that fed into a massive living area. The walls were studded with exotic pieces of art, and antique furniture ringed a luxurious east-India rug in the center. The space over-flowed with the hallmarks of luxury and culture, but the precious objects were placed without design or purpose. They were a collection, strewn around like the spoils from the sacking of some captured city. Frank guessed that this was the room Retigo had described in his journal, where he’d witnessed the sex acts and the life and death battle.

They continued for about twenty meters, then turned right. They reached a convergence of hallways, and Frank noticed the square outline of what looked like a trap door cut into the floor.

Ricky’s tunnel,
he thought.

Frank hesitated and his captor shoved him roughly forward. They’d just started walking again when a siren screamed throughout the building.

The man kept his gun on Frank as he fished a cell phone from his pocket and texted someone with one hand.

He was still texting when there was a single gunshot, then more gunfire in the distance.

His captor grabbed Frank’s arm and dragged him back the way they’d come. They reached the door they’d first entered, and Frank could see across the foyer to the main entrance. The gatehouse guard was lying in a pool of blood just inside the entranceway. Another man was standing behind the door jamb with an automatic weapon in his hand, firing at something. Frank couldn’t see the man’s target. If it was Reid and the others, he could only hope they were okay.

Frank’s guard stopped and texted again. Police sirens wailed in the distance, approaching them. The smell of smoke wafted through the building. The guard dragged him back through the same living space and into an open door on their right. They entered a boardroom with a large table in its center.

In the southeast corner of the room, a barely-visible crack defined a rectangular shape. The guard pulled an electronic fob from his pocket and pointed it at the center of the shape. A door slid open, revealing an elevator.

Frank was pushed forward into it and his guard followed. Again the man waved the fob at a depression in the wall. Frank had expected to go up, but he felt them descending.

They stepped from the elevator into a brilliantly lit, modern space at odds with the ornate mansion above. The guard forced him down a hallway with antiseptic white walls and florescent lighting. They turned right through an open door and emerged in an expansive open-plan work area.

Frank studied the room. The walls were lined with racks of computers and consoles. A few of the consoles were still in use, their operators frantically typing or clicking their mice. Most were unoccupied. Workers were crimping bundles of rainbow wire to putty-coloured bricks attached to the computer stations. He tensed as he recognized what was happening.

His captor shoved him through a knot of workers and Frank’s heart skipped a beat. He was standing face to face with Arthur Dogan, Alpha of Genesis, and by the rules Ricky had explained, protector of all the Arx. Frank thought back to the descriptions from Retigo’s journal and shuddered. Dogan nodded at Frank’s guard and he rushed out of the room.

To Dogan’s right stood a much younger man with blond hair, probably one of his lieutenants – a submissive, as Ricky had described them. Frank scanned to Dogan’s left and his gut twisted. It was Rebecca, her face flushed and bruised, terror in her eyes. Frank heaved a sigh of relief.

Thank God,
he thought.

Rebecca was held by another younger man. Beside her stood a middle-aged woman. From the grainy photograph he’d found at Carson’s cabin and his glimpses at the Boathouse, he recognized her.

It was Carla De Leon.

Frank stared at Carla. There was a quietness, an ease of movement, about her, but at the same time an intensity and strength of purpose he’d never witnessed in another human being. Her body was infused with an energy that seemed to emanate from its core. She was like a wild animal frozen in the act of eviscerating its prey, her deeply-set eyes following the action like a lion stalking an antelope on the African Savannah.

It’s true,
he thought.
She’s not actually human.

The disturbing thought surfaced that humanity was going to have a lot of trouble dealing with the Arx.

She turned to face him.

“Carla De Leon,” he said. “The Matriarch.”

“Congratulations, Detective,” she said, “or I suppose I should say ex-Detective. As of this moment you two are the only human beings on Earth who know who I really am.”

“I’ve met at least one other,” Frank said.

“If you’re referring to Dr. Carson,” Carla said, “we both know what happened to him.”

Frank tensed.
Obviously they’d found out about Carson, but did they know about Jimmy?

“Kill them,” Dogan said. He waved his hand dismissively. “We’ve been compromised. They’re no use to us now. They’ll be in the way.”

The one holding Rebecca raised his weapon and pointed it at her head. Frank reacted and tried to rush him, but the blond man grabbed his shoulder and jammed the gun barrel into his back.

“Travis, wait,” Carla said.

The man holding Rebecca lowered his gun.

Carla turned to Dogan. “They may still be of use to us.”

Dogan raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently all those with knowledge of Detective Langer’s discoveries are conveniently present in this building,” Carla said. “It should be a simple task to eliminate them without implicating the Arx.”

“You bastards!” Frank yelled. He lunged for Carla. The blond lieutenant clipped his head with the butt of his gun. Frank collapsed to his knees.

“The copy in the hands of the police has already been removed,” Carla said, ignoring Frank’s outburst. “The only stumbling block is finding the originals.”

Frank struggled to his feet.

“He can lead us to them,” she nodded at Frank.

“I’m not going to tell you squat,” Frank said between laboured breaths.

“We’ll have to take him with us,” Carla said, “to be sure he’s not lying.” She gestured at Rebecca. “We’ll take the woman, too – as leverage in case he refuses to cooperate."

Dogan stood for a few seconds, in thought. Finally he nodded.

“Miles,” Dogan gestured to the blond man. Miles put a hand out, gripped Frank’s shoulder, and motioned ahead with the gun. Frank struggled against his grip.

Dogan nodded at Rebecca. “Do you want her to live?” he said to Frank.

The Team Enters

Terry and the others hunkered down behind several of the massive trees that dotted the mansion grounds, waiting for backup. Terry did his best to staunch the bleeding wound in Charlie Hunter’s shoulder. If nothing changed in the next ten minutes, Hunter would die. Moving from behind the tree that protected them would be suicide.

The team was pinned down by the gunfire. Reid and Art were locked in a fire-fight with opponents both at the entrance and on the balcony. All they could do was try to hold off the shooters and hope that backup would arrive soon.

As if in answer to his prayers, a blaring police siren in the distance intensified, and within minutes a huge amoured assault vehicle appeared at the front gate. The vehicle tore down the lane-way and came to rest a short distance from Terry.

Seconds later an Emergency Response team, in full battle gear, heavily armed, and carrying ballistic shields, poured out the back and deployed toward the mansion. One of them lobbed a tear-gas canister at the entrance. A cloud expanded in the doorway, and the firing from that position was interrupted. The ER team joined in the firefight with the man on the balcony.

Terry took advantage of the distraction to drag Hunter to the waiting vehicle, where a medic began to examine him. Reid and Art soon joined them. The three of them borrowed some spare body armour and helmets and prepared to enter the mansion.

Terry wondered what had happened to Frank Langer. His gut told him they would eventually find the former detective inside, dead or alive.

By the time he and the others were equipped and had exited the vehicle, the ER team had deployed around the entrance. Terry and the others rushed to join them.

Frank Fights for His Life

Frank glanced around the room as Miles dragged him toward the door. All the workers had disappeared. Rebecca was being pulled ahead by Travis. Miles and Frank caught up with them.

“They’re going to blow this place,” Frank whispered to Rebecca.

If he was right, the building was going to go skyward, and anyone still inside when that happened was going to die.

Several guards remained at the door.

“If we’re compromised,” Carla said to one of them, “initiate the sequence. Otherwise, wait for my signal.”

The guard nodded. Frank’s group – Carla, Dogan, Travis holding Rebecca, Miles holding Frank – entered the hallway, rushed back the way they’d come. Dogan used his own electronic fob and they took the elevator back up.

They emerged in the boardroom. Gunfire and shouting echoed through the building. The fire alarm continued to blare. The acrid odour of smoke filled the air. Outside, sirens wailed and a voice crackled through a bullhorn. Frank couldn’t hear what it was saying, but he dared to hope it was the cops.

They were driven through the door into the hall. To their right were the converging hallways and the tunnel. The tunnel hatch was now open. A group of armed men was steering a line of women and children down into the darkness.

They’re evacuating,
Frank thought.

He scanned the crowd and noticed something else.

A few of the women were pregnant.

Dogan took Rebecca’s arm and nodded at Travis, who took off toward the fighting.

“Time to go,” Dogan said. He pressed a gun against Rebecca’s temple.

“Don’t help them Frank,” she said. “They’ll kill us both anyway.”

“But not yet,” Dogan said.

He tightened his grip until she winced in pain. “Isn’t that the eternal goal of humanity? To stay alive a few seconds longer? And who knows? Maybe God will grant you a miracle. Maybe He’ll fire a lightning bolt at us all or we’ll turn into pillars of salt.”

Frank stared at the gun against Rebecca’s head. Dogan smiled, and cocked the firing mechanism.

Finally Frank said. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“No!” Rebecca yelled.

“He’s right,” Frank said. “It’s our only hope.”

Frank understood that once they left the mansion, he and Rebecca were doomed. He scoured his brain for a way out. There was none. All they could do was stall and pray something happened.

They headed down the hallway and reached the tunnel opening. By now all the evacuees and guards were gone. Dogan shoved Rebecca toward the entrance and nodded for her to start climbing down.

Rebecca’s body relaxed, as if in resignation, and Dogan loosened his grip to allow her to step down. As soon as he let go Rebecca elbowed him in the stomach and grabbed for his gun.

“No!” Frank yelled. He tried to move but Miles held him fast.

The weapon was knocked from Dogan’s hand and bounced down into the darkness of the tunnel below. Dogan gripped her arm again and slapped her hard across the face.

Frank felt the hold on his own arm loosen and he heard a barely audible click. Dogan heard it too. He glanced to his left and a thin smile curled on his lips. Miles had let go of Frank and backed up a step.

He was pointing a gun at Dogan.

“Miles,” Dogan said, amused. “Who would ever have thought…?”

“You’ve had a good run, old man,” Miles said, raising the gun to point at Dogan's chest. “But everything has to end sometime.”

Dogan shook his head slowly and stared at the floor.

Miles cocked the gun, about to fire.

“This is no way to decide succession,” Carla shouted.

“Those are the old rules,” Miles sneered, his blond hair drooping over his forehead as he sighted down the barrel. “When I’m in charge there are going to be some changes.”

Dogan glanced at Carla. She nodded.

A blur rushed past Frank and Miles fired. Suddenly Dogan was beside Miles, a knife in his hand. There was another blur. Blood sprayed from a diagonal line on Miles’s neck and he collapsed to the floor.

Dogan stood over Miles’s body. He’d dropped the knife and was pressing his hand on a patch of red expanding across his left shoulder, where Miles’s shot had struck. He was breathing heavily and there was a strange, animal fire in his eyes Frank hadn’t seen before.

“I’ll be the one to decide about changes,” Carla spoke to Miles’s lifeless body. She cringed as she used a handkerchief to wipe several drops of blood from her sleeve.

The gunfire from the west was approaching quickly. Carla stared down the corridor.

She turned to Dogan. “It’s too late. We can’t get away dragging both of them.”