*
The law firm loomed out of the darkness, blotting out the stars with its silhouette. Amanda repressed a shudder at the sight of the building, remembering the orgy of violence she had witnessed earlier that evening. She slowed to a fast walk, placing a hand to her stomach, pressing against the stitch in her side.
'Here we are. Again.' Amanda said.
'You Ok?' Harvey asked, eyeing her side where she half bent to relieve the ache.
'I'm fine,' Amanda straightened. She tapped the baseball bat against her leg. 'I can't tell you what we might expect inside there, and you don't have to come in. But I have to do something.'
'You could call in the cavalry?' Harvey said.
'That was my first reaction,' Amanda admitted. 'But what could I say? By the time I had explained the situation, and they let me out of the loony bin and pieced together any evidence left, then Duvalier's plan will have started and, who knows, perhaps finished. I really can't explain what Duvalier is up to. I find it difficult to believe it myself. But I do know that somebody has to do something to stop him. And there's no one else.'
Harvey raised an eyebrow. Amanda's inner chi spiked momentarily. A soft hue surrounded her chakras, each emitting their corresponding colours. He tried not to stare and instead turned his attention to the law firm.
A patch of light glowed from one of the windows on the ground floor.
'Looks like someone is in reception,' he said.
Amanda crept up the steps and carefully pressed her face against the darkened glass. The receptionist sat behind a computer terminal, the screen illuminating her human face and the face of the creature within.
'How are we going to get in?' Harvey whispered.
'Last time I was here I was buzzed in by the ice bitch in there.'
'Well,' Harvey said. 'Let's see if she's expecting any of the Macoute to return.'
He pressed his finger to the buzzer. There was a pause, then the door clicked open.
'Phew,' Amanda said. She pulled open the door and walked quickly inside, followed closely by Harvey. The receptionist glanced up, then back to her screen. Her head snapped back up, recognising the policewoman, and she opened her mouth to scream.
Harvey levelled his pistol. 'Not a muscle,' he said, bringing a finger to his lips.
The receptionist sneered and darted off to her left, sprinting to the stairs. Harvey cursed and swung the pistol round, trying to take aim. Amanda stepped forward and swung the baseball bat, catching the receptionist full in the face. A crunch sounded, like a boot stamping into deep snow, and the receptionist collapsed to the floor. Amanda knelt down, checked her eyes which had rolled back inside her head. She placed her fingers to her throat.
'Alive, but concussed,' she said.
Harvey pulled out his Lo Pan compass and checked for any gathering of alignments. There were none. He spun around, but the heaven pool remained dormant, the needle still. The building was nulled of any karma or influence.
'You Ok?' Amanda asked.
'Sure,' Harvey said, slipping the compass into his pocket. He stood at the base of the stairs. 'Where do we go from here?'
'Right to the top. But hang on, I want to check to see what the receptionist was working on.' Amanda sat at the receptionist's chair and took hold of the mouse. It looked as if she had been sending emails. A lot of emails. Clicking through the sent folder, Amanda read through a selection.
'It's a message of death,' Amanda muttered, a tremor of disbelief in her voice. 'A call to arms to every despot, every terrorist group, every corrupt leader of every unstable country that Duvalier has ever visited. He's emailing all these people with a promise of funds for their cause, whatever cause they happen to represent, and urging them to action.'
Harvey listened to Amanda as he looked around at the photographs hanging on the walls. Burundi, Somalia, Cameroon, Chad, Kyrgyzstan. All blacklisted countries. Duvalier shaking hands with country leaders and political representatives. Other photographs showed Duvalier with men, some in militia uniforms, some dressed in Saville Row suits. He recognised a couple of the faces as belonging to a member of the shining path and another to ETA. Terrorist organisations. He guessed the other photo's held members of similar organisations.
'And here's the clever bit,' Amanda continued. 'These emails aren't designed to create an immediate, all encompassing war. Rather they will nurture a smouldering fire of rage and hatred, drip feeding deaths in regular quantities.
'If Duvalier truly is building an army of Tonton Macoute, then he will have a steady supply of souls to recruit.'
Amanda checked the number of emails and the dates. Over four hundred sent that night. She selected all the emails with a quick movement of the mouse, pressed the forward button, and sent them to every email address she could remember. Colleagues in the Metropolitan Police, an old friend at a small-press magazine, even guessing at a number of national newspaper addresses.
The send bar edged along far too slowly for Amanda to wait. She watched for a few moments, biting at a nail until it reached quarterway, then decided that the emails would be sent and so couldn't wait any longer. She ran towards the stairs, cursed, ran back and grabbed the baseball bat.
'Will that do any good?' Harvey asked.
Amanda looked up the flight of stairs. 'Only time will tell. OK - let's do it,' she said.