Ghost of a Smile

  “It’s always the ambitious ones you have to look out for,” Happy said wisely, as the Boss paused for a moment, lost in thought. She glared at him.

  “When I want your opinion, I’ll have my head examined!” She switched her glare to JC. “Was it really necessary to kill him?”

  “Yes,” JC said steadily. “He betrayed every one of us, put all of Humanity at risk by dealing in things he didn’t understand and couldn’t control. And he boasted that he and his secret backers were planning to do even worse things in the future. He had to die.”

  “Did you make him understand that we would have given him full immunity, and round-the-clock protection, in return for information?” said the Boss.

  JC met her gaze steadily. “He was more afraid of his own people than he was of us.”

  “It’s true,” said Happy. “He said he’d rather die than betray them. He did. I was there.”

  The Boss looked at Melody. “Do you have anything useful to add?”

  “He wasn’t the man you thought he was,” said Melody, as kindly as she could. “He wasn’t the man any of us thought he was.”

  The Boss nodded slowly. “I want every bit of information you have about this secret organisation Patterson answered to. Every word he said about them. I want fully detailed reports from all three of you on my desk before the end of day.” She looked back at Chimera House. “These . . . New People. Were they really living gods, or the final destiny of human evolution? I would have liked to have seen them. It’s not often you get to see something completely new, in this business.” She looked back at JC and his team. “You got lucky. You do realise that, don’t you? This could all have gone horribly wrong, in so many appalling ways. But, still—you did good. Well done. Don’t even think of asking for a raise.”

  She drew heavily on her ivory holder, and blew a thick cloud of aromatic smoke out onto the early-morning air. “How could something as important, as extreme as this, have got so far completely undetected by anyone in the Institute? Patterson wasn’t that high up, or that connected . . . He couldn’t have managed all this on his own. You’re sure he didn’t mention any other names . . . Of course not. You would have said.”

  JC could have said something there but didn’t. Happy and Melody took their cues from him.

  “Reports,” the Boss said savagely. “Extremely detailed reports. And God have mercy on your souls if they aren’t in on time.”

  She turned her back and strode off, to organise things and shout at people a lot. JC, Happy, and Melody all breathed a little more easily, and moved away to find somewhere quiet, and private, so they could talk. Once they were safely away from the crowds, Kim manifested again, a vague impression on the air, an outline of a young woman in pastel colours, so the others could see and hear her. She hated to be left out of things just because she was dead.

  “We’re going to have to be very careful about what we say in our reports,” said JC. “And careful that they all agree with each other, in the things that matter. Because there’s a lot we’re going to have to leave out, or at the very least fudge around. We don’t know how many other traitors there might be, hidden away inside the Carnacki Institute.”

  “Are you saying we can’t even trust the Boss?” said Happy, his eyes widening at the thought of trying to keep things from the dreaded Catherine Latimer.

  “She’s the Boss!” said Melody. “She’s in charge of everything! If she’s gone over to the dark side, we are all royally screwed!”

  “I think we can still trust her,” JC said steadily. “If only because she’s got too much pride to hide her dark side under a bushel. If she was the villain of the piece, she’d want everyone to know, and bow down to her. No—I was thinking more that whatever we tell the Boss might not stay with the Boss.”

  They all paused to consider the implications of that, and none of them liked what they were thinking.

  “We have to go our own way now,” JC said finally. “Follow the leads we’ve got and run our own very secret investigations into who’s really who, and what’s really what, inside the Carnacki Institute.”

  “We can’t trust anyone any more, can we?” said Melody.

  “Welcome to my world,” said Happy. “Lonely, isn’t it?”

  “We only trust each other,” said JC.

  “Situation entirely bloody normal,” said Happy. But he couldn’t keep from grinning.

  “Just because one conspiracy theory has turned out to be true, it doesn’t mean they all are,” JC said sternly. “Let us all please concentrate on the matter at hand. The Carnacki Institute is far too important to the world to remain compromised in this way.”

  “What is this other secret organisation?” said Melody. “We don’t have a name, or a statement of intent.”

  “They have got to be big,” said Happy. “And I mean really, really big to have the connections and resources to pull off something like this, right under the Boss’s radar.”

  “So how come no-one even heard a whisper?” said Melody. “You can’t put something like ReSet together without making serious waves.”

  “We did hear a whisper,” said JC. “Those agents from the Crowley Project, Natasha Chang and Erik Grossman. They said there were forces at work bigger than either the Institute or the Project. But we didn’t believe them because Project agents lie like they breathe. They live to spread lies and paranoia. But now . . .”

  “We have one end of the string,” said Happy. “I say we tug on it and see what unravels.”

  “You are enjoying this entirely too much,” said Melody.

  “My entire paranoid existence has been justified,” said Happy. “I am a deeply satisfied man.”

  “We’re not going to solve this mess overnight,” said JC. “We have to be in this for the long haul . . . all the way to the end. So we carry on taking cases, going on missions, as though everything were still normal. People . . . some people . . . are going to be watching us very carefully.”

  “But . . . wouldn’t it be safer to let it go?” said Kim. “I mean, what can the four of us do, against a secret society this big, this dangerous?”

  “We go on,” said JC. “Because we have to. Because it’s part of the job. And because no-one plays us and gets away with it.”

  “Right,” said Happy.

  “Damn right,” said Melody.

  “Oh well, if you put it like that,” said Kim. “Kill them all, and let God sort them out.”

  They walked away from Chimera House, putting it all behind them, for the time being at least. Happy looked sideways at JC.

  “So,” he said casually, “did you really steal that Hand of Glory thing from the Carnacki Institute’s Armoury?”

  “You’d be surprised at what I’ve gotten away with, over the years,” JC said solemnly.

  They all stopped abruptly as Kim clapped both her hands to her head and cried out in pain. The sound rose and rose, a miserable howl of horror and agony, filling the night, continuing on long after living lungs would have been unable to sustain it. She swayed on her feet, eyes clenched shut. JC stood before her, saying her name over and over, trying to make himself heard over the deafening noise she was making, reaching out but unable to touch or comfort her. Melody and Happy looked at each other, both of them lost for anything useful to do. Latimer came hurrying back to join them. And Kim stopped screaming as suddenly as she’d begun. The returning quiet would have been a relief, if it hadn’t been for the horror and abject misery still filling her pale face.

  “What is it?” said Latimer. “What’s happening? Why was she making that God-awful noise?”

  “I don’t know,” said JC. “Nothing happened . . . Kim? Kim, sweetie, what is it? What’s upsetting you . . . Kim, look at me!”

  Kim finally forced her eyes open but didn’t look at JC. She only had eyes for Chimera House, staring at the tall building as though it was the entrance to Hell itself. JC looked, too, but it all seemed perfectly ordinary to him. Everything was as it should be
. He could see silhouettes of the Institute people outlined against brightly lit windows, going about their business.

  “It’s not over,” said Kim. “It’s not finished. Not yet.”

  “What do you mean?” said Latimer. “Is it the New People? You said they were gone.”

  “They are gone,” JC said impatiently. “We all saw them move on . . . Kim, did you . . . hear something?”

  Kim looked at him for the first time, her pale features still slack with shock. “You didn’t hear that? You didn’t hear anything?”

  “I didn’t hear a damned thing,” said Melody. “Except you, screaming fit to burst my eardrums.” She looked at Happy, and he shrugged quickly.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m not picking up anything. If this night was any quieter, it would be tucked up in bed with a nice cup of hot milk.”

  “It sounded . . . like the roar of some great Beast,” Kim said slowly. “Nothing human in it, not in intent, or emotion. Just this great roar, of anger and hatred and defiance . . . and evil. An ancient evil, beyond anything human.”

  Happy’s head snapped round, and he stared at Chimera House with wide, shocked eyes. His face screwed up with pain, and he bent over suddenly, as though he’d been hit, and hit hard. He made soft grunting, moaning sounds. Melody moved quickly in beside him but had enough sense not to touch him.

  “What is it, Happy? Are you hearing something now?”

  “He’s killing them,” said Happy, forcing the words out between harsh gasps of strained breathing. “He’s killing them all! He’s going back and forth in the building, killing everyone he finds. Get them out! Get everyone out of there!”

  Latimer moved in close, to glare right into his face. “Talk to me, Happy. I need to know what’s happening. Concentrate! Follow your training! Find your focus and tell me what the hell is going on inside that building!”

  Happy swallowed hard and bit down on his moans, fighting to regain his self-control. He made himself straighten up, by sheer effort of will, though his hands still clenched and unclenched at his sides.

  “They’re all dead,” he said flatly. “Everyone on the upper floors. He killed them all. I heard their terror, their dying screams. He’s working his way down through the building, floor by floor, killing everyone he finds. And loving every moment of it.”

  Latimer glared at JC. “You missed something. Some monster, some hidden killer . . . You told me it was safe to send my people in there! But you left something hidden in some secret place, waiting for its chance because you didn’t do your job properly!”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it!” said JC, giving the Boss glare for glare. “Your own psychics told you the place was clean!”

  “We didn’t miss anything,” Happy said flatly. “This is something new.”

  JC deliberately turned his back on Latimer, to face Happy. “Human? Alive? Dead? What?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know!” Happy wiped the sweat from his face with the back of one shaking hand. “There’s something new in there, and it’s big and powerful . . . Trying to See it is like staring into a spotlight. Its presence is hitting me so hard, I can hardly think straight, barely keep it outside my head . . . It’s a man . . . but it’s so much more than a man! And there’s something very familiar about it . . .”

  They were all looking at Chimera House by then. Latimer took out her cell phone and tried to raise someone, anyone, on the upper floors of the building, but no-one answered. She put the phone away and gave a series of quiet orders to the commander in charge of her security people. They moved quickly forward to form a semicircle facing the building, guns at the ready. Everyone else left, clearing the area, followed by all the other vehicles, and the ambulance. Kim hovered beside JC, fading in and out as her concentration wavered under the onslaught of so many unpleasant emotions. Happy was still breathing hard but was as back in control as he ever was. Melody looked briefly at her instruments but stuck with Happy, for the moment. Every time she saw him wince, she knew he was hearing someone die.

  There was a burst of gunfire from the lobby. Chattering bullets, shouted orders, jagged screams suddenly cut off. The security people tensed but held their positions. Everyone strained their eyes, but none of them could see what was happening in the lobby. All the glass had suddenly become opaque. And then, suddenly, all the windows were spattered with crimson, thick blood sliding down their insides. The gunfire died away and stopped. Latimer looked at Happy, who shook his head sickly. Latimer beckoned to the commander, and he hurried over.

  “Send half your people to join the established perimeter,” she said crisply. “Tell them no-one gets in or out until I say otherwise, in person. And no—I don’t care who they are, or who they say they are. I want this whole area sealed off until we know for sure what we’re dealing with. Contact Institute Headquarters, and have them send every special force and field agent they can find. They’re to reinforce the perimeter, but not come in until I say so. When you’ve done that, take the rest of your people and secure the situation inside that lobby. You are authorised to shoot the shit out of anything you see. Go.”

  The commander nodded quickly, and moved off to follow Latimer’s orders quietly and efficiently. JC and his people stood close together, shivering in the cold, gusting wind. They all watched silently at the commander led his people towards the now-entirely-quiet lobby. Latimer glared at Happy.

  “Happy Jack Palmer! Look at me!”

  Happy looked at her. His face was still slack with shock. “You don’t have to shout. I’m not deaf.”

  “I need to know what you’re hearing,” said Latimer. “What’s going on in the lobby, right now? Who or what is killing my people?”

  “They’re all dead now,” Happy said dully. “Everyone in the building. Bullets couldn’t stop him. They never stood a chance, any of them.”

  “What about the other field team? Can you reach their telepath?”

  “You’re not listening to me! They’re all dead, all of them! Including your precious Jeremy Diego, Monica Odini, and Ivar ap Owen! Your legendary A team, the best you had, your most experienced field team, were nothing to him! He killed them as easily as you would swat a fly. All their power, all their weapons, all their legendary experience, didn’t make a damned bit of difference. I heard Monica crying out to me with her mind, trying to reach me . . . but he wouldn’t let her. He . . . walked right over them. They didn’t even slow him down.”

  Latimer actually looked shocked, for the first time. “But . . . Diego was one of my best! I would have trusted him to deal with anything! What the hell is going on in there . . .”

  “All the training in the world won’t help,” said Happy, almost dreamily. “Something bad has come here, to teach us a lesson. To teach us our proper place in the scheme of things.”

  “You’re still listening in, aren’t you, Happy?” JC said quietly. “Is it the New People? Are they back?”

  “No,” said Happy. “It’s not them. Look. There he is.”

  He gestured at the lobby door with a shaking hand, and they all turned to look. The commander held up one hand as the door opened, and his men froze in place, guns trained on the door. The door swung open, and a man stepped out into the night. One man, walking unsteadily because most of his bones were broken, because he was dead. Robert Patterson. His once-splendid clothes were tattered and torn, and soaked with blood. It dripped thickly from him, leaving a messy trail back into the lobby. It was far too much blood for it to have been only his—too much, and too fresh. He carried the marks of his murders on him. Some of it fell in thick drips from his clenched fists.

  His body had been broken and shattered by the long fall and sudden impact that had killed him. Every time he moved, the sound of splintered bones scraping against each other came clearly across the quiet. Broken limbs and broken back, broken neck and smashed head. His right eye had been pushed forward, straining half out of its socket, so that he seemed to stare at them all with a fierce, manic gaze. He
was grinning widely.

  “Robert Patterson,” said Happy. “He died and came back from the dead. And he’s brought something back with him.”

  Latimer called out to the dead man, and he stopped and turned to look at her. His neck made sickening grinding noises.

  “Robert!” said Latimer. “Robert, it’s me, Catherine! They said you were dead! What’s happened to you, Robert?”

  He looked at her, still grinning his humourless grin. He didn’t move, and he didn’t answer her. JC stepped in beside Latimer.

  “I don’t think that is Patterson any more, Boss,” he said carefully. “Or at least, not the Patterson you knew. Happy, talk to me . . . what’s going on inside that dead man’s head?”

  “He’s not alone in there,” said Happy. “He’s hardly there at all. More like a memory, now, pressed down and supplanted by something else. Someone else has . . . moved in and taken over. Riding him.”

  “And that’s what killed everyone?” said Melody. “One dead man, with a rider in his head?”

  “He’s not like any dead man we’ve ever encountered,” said Happy. “Not a zombie, not any kind of lich . . . Whatever’s riding Patterson has suffused his body with so much power, it’s a wonder the world is able to bear his presence. This is far more than a simple possession. This is a Power, walking unfettered in the world.”

  “I don’t care what it is,” said Latimer. “It’s killed my people. No-one gets away with that.” She nodded quickly to the commander. “Blessed and cursed bullets, half and half. Take that thing down.”

  The commander nodded easily and turned to his men. He didn’t seem too bothered at the idea of shooting Patterson. JC wondered briefly if perhaps the commander had known Patterson, before. The commander moved easily among his people. His voice was calm, professional, assured. “Target dead ahead. Put him down.”