Trials in Walls of Ivy (Triskelion Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be here,” I stammered, falling over my feet as I attempted to back away.

He sat up and put his hand on my shoulder. “Roz, what’s the problem?”

“I am! I sit here and listen to you trying to pep talk me. I get it, I do. We can’t give up. We have to pass, stay under cover. But…” I banged my head on my knees, holding my hands above my head.

“Roz,” he was laughing, pulling at my arm to see my face, “what did I do?”

“We were flirting. More than flirting. Ash, we kissed,” I shouted. The shame flooded through me like a bucket of ice. I hid my face in my hands.

“Glad you noticed. What’s the problem?” He scooted closer and I edged away. “Roz, will you just tell me what the problem is?”

“Bree’s my friend.”

“She’s my friend too.” He froze. “Hang on; you think I’m with Bree? Where did that come from?” He erupted in laughter.

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. Where had I gotten that from? “Well, you were upset when she was drugged.”

His grin faded. “Of course I was upset. My friend had been drugged.”

“And,” my mind fished for any memory of the two of them being close, “you’re very touchy feely with each other.”

He laughed again. It boomed around the clearing and vibrated my eardrums. “Are you serious? We’re partners. We train every day together. After throwing each other around, blocking and tackling, I don’t think there’s an inch of each other’s bodies we haven’t touched, at least accidentally.”

“Well that’s, unnerving to know.”

“You miss my point.” He scotched closer. I didn’t move. “We’re partners, which means, we can’t be any sort of a couple in any other way.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged, his smile dropping a little. “We train together. Hard. In training, you can’t hold back. I punch, she blocks. I tackle; she finds my weakness and takes me down. You just can’t do that with a person you care about in any other way than a teammate.”

“Wouldn’t being closer make it easier?”

“The opposite. I protect Bree by fighting alongside her. If you needed protecting, I would stand in front of you, fight
for
you.”

My mouth was dry, my throat clamped shut. I gulped, unable to say anything. I reached forward and silently placed my hand on his cheek. He shrugged, like he was embarrassed by his admission. I lowered my hand and placed it in his.

He cleared his throat, nervously. “So you see, the relationship I’m hoping for with you is worlds apart from what I have with Bree.”

I forced my voice to come back to life. “You’re hoping for?”

He lifted our entwined hands, kissing the back of mine. “No pressure. Just letting you know how I feel. And, apparently letting you know how I don’t feel about Bree.”

“Teammate,” I said, more to myself.

“She’s the best sparring partner I’ve ever had,” he grinned.

I stared at him trying not to imagine him aiming a punch at Bree. “But, she’s so small, how can you be her partner in training and not hurt her?”

He smirked and began to unbutton his shirt. I leaned back, staring around to make sure no one was looking. He pulled down his collar to reveal his shoulder and upper arm. I watched his muscles flex with the movement. Running from his neck and down the front of his chest was a long black bruise with purple blush around the edges.

“Believe me, she’s one of the best. Training with her puts me to the test.”

“She did that? How?” Without thinking I reached forward and touched the bruise. My fingers stroked over his taught muscle. His skin was warm and soft, making the electricity surge through me once again.

“I wasn’t paying attention. She decided to wake me up with a flying kick.” He laughed like he was recalling a fond memory.

“So, you’re really not with Bree? All this time I thought you two were together, you weren’t?” I felt ridiculous asking such a childish and needy question. Our worlds were crashing in around us and I was worrying about kissing a guy.

“I’ll prove it to you. Let me take you out?”

I shivered involuntarily. “I’ve not got a good track record with going out. And besides, do you think they’ll let us?” I nodded toward the far off security guard.

We both watched him as he sat in the booth by the front gate. His feet were propped up on the desk, paper held open in front of him.

Ash was quiet for a moment. Then shook his head and laughed. “We’re forgetting that we’re not supposed to know about the danger. We’re students here, why would they stop us from going out?”

I didn’t have the same confidence. I thought back to my night out with Mark. We had only needed our student cards to leave. But, now that I was learning more about this organisation, I didn’t know where the boundaries were set.

“Alright. Just let me know when is good for you. I need to get back for now.” I stood and brushed myself down. The dew had soaked through my jeans, making me feel like the material was matted to my skin.

I knew there was nothing to rush back to the house for, other than processing everything that Ash had revealed tonight. Ash and I had seemed to make a crucial step.

A step I hadn’t planned on.

I laid awake for most of the night re-playing everything Ash had said. He wanted a relationship? Did I want that? In all honesty, I didn’t know. I definitely liked him, and I knew I wanted to see him again. Could I see him out of a teammate function, in a relationship? I hadn’t considered him in any other way until now. I hadn’t allowed myself to. Having thought of him as Bree’s boyfriend for so long, it felt strange to be able to think of him in a romantic way. I had chided myself every time I found him attractive, every time I caught myself watching him. Could I now accept those feelings, when I had banished them for so long?

The clock on my dresser flashed 5:00, when I finally organised my churning thoughts into order. I liked Ash. I enjoyed talking to him. I trusted him. I was definitely attracted to him. Yes, I liked the idea of a relationship with him.

Two hours later, I couldn’t open my eyes. Owen’s voice was shouting my name from the other side of my bedroom door. I knew from his voice he wasn’t about to give me good news. After three more times of calling my name, he opened my door. I held my arm over my eyes as he switched the light on. I felt the bed sink on one side.

“I’m asleep.” I groaned.

“Just think of me as your alarm clock. You need to get up and see this.” He pulled my arm and the blinding lightbulb blazed above me. He was doing this far too often.

I rolled onto my side, shielding my face. “Now? What time is it?” I groaned.

“Just gone seven. I’ll get the kettle on. Meet me in the kitchen in two minutes.” He left the room, leaving the light on.

I didn’t look in the mirror as I dragged my dressing gown on and loped down the stairs. I could hear the kettle boiling as I opened the door. The aroma of coffee hit me like a welcoming hug. Owen laughed when he saw me.

“You look like you were on the lash all night,” he said.

I flashed two fingers at him and sat by the table. It was covered in papers and laptops.

He laughed. “Love you too. Toast?”

“No thanks,” I replied, “and, I wasn’t drinking. Just didn’t get any sleep.”

He walked over and handed me my mug, then pressed a button on his computer. “Well, this will wake you up. I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

My head snapped up. I gripped the hot mug and my hands trembled. With all the bad news lately, things had to be terrible to stand out.

“Bad news.” I held my breath.

He turned the laptop so the screen was facing me. “There was another bomb last night.”

“Already?” My trembling hands placed the mug down, with coffee spilling over the sides. “Where?”

“About fifty miles from here.”

“So, the bomber’s still close. How long would it take us to get there? We need to get the team together, go investigate. Jay needs to get the cameras set up, we need to watch the investigation. Can you and Warwick get into the files? We could follow it as they progress…”

“Roz,” Owen interrupted, holding his hand up to stop me, “we can’t go there.” He pulled me back to the seat I didn’t realise I had left. “The whole area is under quarantine.”

“Quarantine? But, the biological component has been in every bomb, they’ve never quarantined for long before.”

Owen shook his head. “That’s because whatever the biological weapon was, it always dispersed within seconds. The people who it killed were always within the immediate area when it blew.” I shook my head to interrupt, and he held up his hand. “I know you were there at a blast. But, whatever that bomb contained at the theatre, it only targeted a few people.”

“It was more than a few from where I was sat.”

“I know.” He leaned back and put his hands over his face. “This one was different, Roz.”

“How? Where was it?”

“That’s the thing, it was just a village. Nothing significant about it. All the others, they were all high visibility. Every one of them had witnesses, crowds of people to panic, and cause chaos. But, this village was in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, isn’t that a good thing? Fewer people getting hurt.”

“This time was different. The bomb, the biological weapon,” He shook his head.  “It didn’t select specific people this time.”

“No. Don’t say it…” I couldn’t say the words. My throat felt like it had closed up against the sheer weight of the reality.

“Five hundred and sixty two people. It wiped out every last person in the village.”

He handed me the report, which he had printed. It detailed the blast and biological dispersal area. It spread three miles past the village boundary. No one living within that area survived. I flicked through pages of pictures. Each of them looked like the scene at the theatre. Rubble, bodies and blood. As I turned the pages, the scenery became more rural, until the pictures focused on herds of cows. Hundreds of black, white and brown bodies scattered the fiends, each perishing where they fell. This weapon didn’t care who it murdered: human or animal.

We sat in silence. Nearly six hundred people had died. I was leading a team to investigate and I had gotten nowhere. I had no leads on who this bomber was or even why they were doing this. I didn’t know why they chose their locations, or how they planted them.

“Owen.” I said his name gently. His eyes met mine. “We have to solve this. Even if it means we fail everything else. Anything we discover could help the police find this guy.”

“I know. But, where else do we look? I’ve got the police channels covered, and most of the university. It’s alright us bugging the campus computers, but this bomb wasn’t here. How do we solve this?”

I stared at the collection of pictures in my hands. The bomber had changed his routine, hit somewhere different. Or, had he? Was this part of the overall plan? Was I just seeing it from the wrong angle? I looked to Owen, steely determination taking hold.

“By thinking out of the box,” I said, as I stood to leave. “I’m going to talk to Wang.”

“The sociology tutor? Why?”

I looked at the reports which scattered the table. “Because I need to understand how this bomber is thinking. If I’m going to predict his next move, I need to see it from his perspective. I need to see through his eyes, think how he thinks.”

“And Wang can do that?”

I shrugged. “He’s a sociology tutor, he understands social groups. It’s my best option right now.” I patted Owen’s shoulder as I pulled open the kitchen door. Then paused. “Oh, what was the good news?”

He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “Llamp got a report through her computer. The bomb here at the science lab, didn’t have any biological component.”

“None at all?”

“Nothing. It was just a bomb.”

“Well there’s the silver lining.” I left the room, determination driving my way.

*   *   *

Wang’s office was located in one of the old castle elements of the campus. Through my time here I had grown fond of the mish-mash of old and new. The rough walls of the ancient castle buildings reminded me of the many trips my family and I had taken to historical sites. The new buildings looked cold in comparison to the hand carved stones and creeping ivy. They reminded me of busy city centres, where new office buildings intruded on tradition.

Wang’s door stood in the centre of a mass of green. The ivy had been trimmed just at the edge of the doorframe, making it look like a natural wooden entrance. I lifted the oversized iron ring which hung in the centre, and knocked. The sound vibrated through the cool air, making me shiver.

“Enter,” Wang’s voice called from within.

The heavy latch creaked as I pushed the door open and stepped through into the overly warm room.

“Excuse me, Doctor Wang. I hope I’m not interrupting you?”

He was sat at an oversized dark wood desk. The surface held a small number of papers and pens. The floor surrounding the desk was piled high with books, giving the impression he was sat within a hard backed nest. The walls were filled with countless pictures in different frames; some small and simple, some as big as a small car with ornate frames.

“Miss Grove, is it?” He said, lifting his head as I approached.

“Yes, I’m in your sociology class.”

“That you are. How can I help you?” He placed his pen down and folded his hands on the table.

I took the chair opposite without being asked. “I need help. I thought you would be the best person to talk to.”

“Help with?”

I took a deep breath. “For my task, I’m researching the bombings.”

“An ambitious choice. However, I do not see how I could be of assistance.” He smiled at me in apology.

“I need help with,” I lowered my head, feeling my cheeks flush, “thinking in different ways.”

He sat back in his chair and grinned. “I see. You would like to consider different views?”

“The bomber’s view. I need to try to see what he sees when he sets off a bomb. I need to think differently.” I sat forward in my chair. “I need to think like him.”

He nodded, brushing his stubble as he looked at me. “Think about the words you just used.”

I stared at him and thought about what I had said. I couldn’t think of a fault.

“I have been following the news as you surely have. To my understanding, there has been no mention of the bomber’s gender.” He smiled at me, waiting for me to comprehend.

My eyes snapped wide. “I said he.”

“You made a presumption. History tells us that deviants on this scale are usually male. But, that does not make it a rule. History also tells us that the culprit is often confident, intelligent and in many cases quite charming.” He smiled and shook his head at the thought. “What else have you discovered?”

“The bombs have been placed in random locations, all public, or with a high population. There’s a biological element to most of the bombs, which until last night, didn’t affect everyone at the blast.”

“So, what was different last night?” Wang asked, watching me with interest.

I felt my hands tremble with the thought of the carnage. “Everyone died. The whole village.”

“In the blast, or the biological weapon?”

“The biological weapon. The bomb was set in a community hall, right in the centre of the village. The infection spread out three miles in every direction. Enough to kill every person and livestock living there.” I watched him, waiting for a response.

He stood and paced the front of his office, hands clasped behind his back. “The other bombs, they did not kill in this fashion?”

“No, they killed people who were the closest.”

“But, you were close, were you not? I was told you were present at the theatre.”

“I was, but it must have evaporated before it got to me.”

He tilted his head at me and waited.

“I presume,” I corrected. “I talked to Doctor Levins. He told me that it looked like the toxin was targeting specific people. I just presumed that I was out of the infected area.”

“Or, you were not among the people targeted. What does that tell you?”

I stood and joined him in pacing. “I tells me that the bomber had in mind who they wanted to target.”

“Good, go on.”

“They must have planted the bomb before the people arrived. The place was packed. Someone would have seen something suspicious.”

“I agree.”

“Which means,” my voice was gaining confidence, my pace quickening, “the bomber couldn’t target specific individuals. The tickets didn’t have names on; he didn’t know who was going to be there.”

“But, the toxin didn’t affect everyone?” Wang said, his tone urging me to continue.

“No. So what made it target one person and not the other?” Wang’s eyes met mine as we reached the same realisation. “It was designed to target something in people. The people who died, they must have something in common. Something was done to them to give them something in common.”

“A reasonable assumption. The bombs infect selected people. Why does he select them? Or, more to the point, what did they have to be targeted, that you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. I have to find the connection between them all. If I can find how he’s selecting them, maybe I can predict where he’ll target next.” I rushed back to my chair and grabbed my bag. “Thank you Doctor Wang. This has really helped.”

“Any time, Miss Grove. But,” he sat back at his desk, “be careful. Searching for a murderer with the sole intent of killing isn’t the safest of activities to pursue.”

“I’ll try,” I said, as I pulled the heavy door closed.