“Really? You’re telling me that there’s no tablets or drink in the whole building. What a-load-a crap,” he said, the headache causing the words to throb in his head.
“Mr Silk will not permit drugs or intoxicants in the tower. If you’re in pain or discomfort,” her face softened for a moment in mock sympathy, “then tuff, deal with it.”
“Screw you, bitch,” Reuben snapped, realising that he sounded like a petulant teenager being refused beer at a bar.
The receptionist grinned. “Screwing me is something that you can only dream about. Now sit down and be quiet like a good little boy.” Her attention returned to the screens, ending the conversation and dismissing him.
He returned to the chair feeling like a naughty school boy which was probably her intention. Bloody bitch. If he’d been feeling himself, he would have had a witty response ready to shoot her down. Folding his arms, he relaxed into the chair and tried to appear nonchalant. When this was over, and he had Pinky beside him, he might pay her a little visit. In the large glass walls, he watched her reflection as she studied her screens. Acting as if he wasn’t even in the room. Bitch.
The glass entrance automatically slid open and two men walked in. A tall man in a police uniform, Reuben didn’t know much about their rank system but judging by the large crown and pips on his epaulette, guessed he was high up. He strode purposefully in front of the other who was dressed in a plain grey suit and appeared to lack the confidence of the first. Reuben sat up, hiding the bulge of his gun under his arm and tried to make the movement seem natural.
“I’m not sure why I’m needed here. This is your jurisdiction, Sir,” said the shorter man, struggling to match the pace.
“Calm down, Gerald. You know the mayor wants MI6 to work closely with the Met. This is the perfect opportunity,” replied the copper as he knowingly eyed the receptionist. She smiled mischievously in response as she picked up the phone.
“But shouldn’t our superiors be here also? I don’t even know who this Mr Silk is.”
“You will soon enough, Gerald. Stop worrying.” Then nodding to the receptionist, he opened his mouth and spoke in the harsh clicks and clacks tone.
“Tak...tak...tak,” she replied and must have pressed a hidden button behind her desk as the lift doors opened. The copper steered Gerald by the elbow, grinning until the doors shut.
The receptionist held the phone closer to her mouth, continuing to speak in that creepy insect-like tone again. Her gaze fell on Reuben and she smiled. A second lift that was positioned beside the first, suddenly opened.
“Mr Silk will see you now,” she said, the smile curling into a smirk.
Reuben walked to the open doors, his feet feeling heavier than normal as if his body was warning himself of an impending doom. The doors slid silently, closing him off from the world as the lift carried him up to Silk.
When he arrived at the top floor the doors slid open, revealing an opulent-styled corridor full of rich colours. Mahogany and gold guilt lined everything from the ceiling fixtures to the skirting boards and even matched the frames of the expensive paintings that adorned the walls. A vast improvement over the reception room. Further up the corridor a man in a butler’s uniform held a door open to the policemen and his companion, he smiled pleasantly as they entered the room then turned his attention to Reuben.
“This way sir. Mr Silk will arrive soon,” the butler said in a clipped Eaton accent. Reuben nodded and headed towards him.
“What are the chances of you getting me some painkillers for my head?” he asked as he arrived at the opened door.
“None, sir,” replied the butler. Reuben was expecting that so shrugged his shoulders as he entered the room. It seemed his headache would be with him for the foreseeable future - bloody marvellous.
The room was vast. As rich with furnishings as the corridor and had a large oval table taking up most of the floor with as many as twenty people sat around it, talking in hushed voices. Sat upon the table was a red silk blanket that covered something huge and lumpy. He couldn’t guess what was beneath but was sure that whatever it was, was the main topic of conversation.
The people were an odd group, mainly dressed in expensive suits and shirts. But Reuben also saw that several of them were dressed in high-ranking military uniforms, sitting next to police men and women in their formal dress. The copper he had followed up showed his friend to a chair at the narrow end of the table where the oval shape naturally singled him out. A fact not wasted on Gerald as his face took on an awkward look. The copper sat next to him but started talking with the person to his other side, obviously old friends by the way they spontaneously burst into conversation, ignoring his companion that he’d brought in.
The butler followed Reuben in and ushered him to an empty chair between an army Brigadier and a middle-aged cougar dressed in a high-powered suit. They both acted as if they didn’t realise he was there, carrying on talking to their neighbours at the table. In fact, nobody gave him eye contact or showed any interest in him at all. But what did he expect amongst these high-ranking and powerful individuals? He was a mercenary. Beaten up and battered and didn’t belong amongst them. He would have felt as odd and as out-of-sorts as Gerald was if his headache hadn’t been pulsing wave after wave of pain into his brain.
Massaging his temples, he looked at the red silk once again, he thought he saw movement beneath. Then he caught movement at a different part of the lumpy mound bringing a memory to his mind of when he was a small boy, visiting the coast and watching fishermen hauling in the netted catch of the day. He remembered being distracted by a canvas sheet that had been thrown haphazardly over a small row-boat, covering fish heads and waste. The sheet had been moving as if strange creatures scurried beneath it. Curiosity made him lift the corner of it and peek beneath, revealing several crabs scuttling amongst the offal, tearing off chunks of rotting flesh before skittering away. The strange movements beneath the silk blanket were similar to that, although more rapid than that of a crab and less clumsy. Perhaps rats amongst the silverware? Whatever it was, he brought his gaze away and his eyes settled on the rim of the table where he noticed strange symbols, maybe runes, had been carved crudely into the wood.
They were perhaps two inches in size and ran entirely around the table and were filled with a white powder that stood out starkly against the dark wood of the table. Why hadn’t he noticed it when he came in?
He touched one of the symbols with a finger and snapped it back after feeling pain. It wasn’t a white powder, it was frost. His brows furrowed as he realised that there was an icy chill settling over the room. As he tried to work out what was going on, the door opened causing the room to fall silent.
Mr Silk’s huge bodyguard sauntered in followed by Mr Silk himself and another person clad in a grey robe and cloak. A hood covered its head as it shuffled in behind, face hidden beneath a dark shadow.
Everyone in the room stood. Only himself and Gerald remaining seated, unaware of the custom. He got to his feet just as Mr Silk told the room to be seated and felt foolish at being caught half rising from the seat and slowly sat back down with the rest. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice as their attention was given fully to Mr Silk who casually wandered to the head of the table, his huge bodyguard standing behind him.
He was immersed in conversation with the cloaked figure, talking in whispers yet Reuben could hear them perfectly.
“And you’re sure it’s the Shaigun? Why not the Shadojak?” asked Silk.
“The Shadojak is out of the city. Besides, all it seems his Shaigun is doing is watching the building. Maybe gathering information for when his master returns,” replied the figure. Its cloak appeared damp although the weather had been dry for days. Due to the subtle shape of the creature, a swelling at the hips and chest, Reuben guessed the cloaked figure was a female.
“Perhaps you’re right. But his involvement complicates things. I’ll have a team go down and take this Shaigun out. Maybe even take him alive and take his body.”
“No. He will be too strong. You’d kill him before breaking his mind. Besides, if he has the girl then there is another way we can use him to bring her to us.” She produced a small bottle from inside her sleeve and handed it to Silk. “Attack him with only a handful of men. Make it hard, but don’t kill him. Have one of your fighters douse a dagger in this and rake it across his skin. It would only take a small scratch for him to ingest the poison.”
“I don’t follow.”
“There is only one place in which you can get an antidote. We’ll meet him there in his weakened state and if he’s protecting the girl, he’ll want to keep her close.”
Silk took the bottle and handed it to his bodyguard. He spoke in the spine tingling harsh clicks that they all seemed to know. The bodyguard nodded and wandered from the room. Silk forced a smile to his face and regarded the crowd before him.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Brothers, sisters, warriors one and all. Thank you for coming.”
Reuben watched the old man as he spoke to the table, looking each of them in the eye, except himself. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.
“The barrier between our worlds is diminishing by the day and very soon the reckoning will be upon us. We need to be ready for this. Our ranks grow stronger and the time is nearing when this world will be ours for the taking.”
Mr Silk stared at the police chief and spoke in the clicking tongue for a moment. The chief grinned, clicking a response.
“Yes, Mr Lord. This is Mr LeBron. Secretarial Chief of MI6.” Then with a snake-like quickness, flicked a pair of handcuffs over Gerald’s wrist and secured him to the chair.
“Whoa...” began a startled Gerald, gaze going wild as the man to his other side grasped his free wrist and shoulder, holding him firm.
