Anything but Ordinary (6 page)

She swallowed, to the great disappointment of one youngster at the next table who had taken a bet with himself that she would spray the foul liquid all over her companion’s face and had been looking forward to seeing it.

‘Now, how long have we got Fulk?’ she said, ignoring her empty stomach.

‘AAbout a weeek,’ mumbled Fulk through a mouthful of food.

‘Ah, good. And how long will it take us to be ready?’

Fulk swallowed hastily. ‘AAbout a month Missteress,’ he rapped out and ducked behind a menu.

‘Hmm,’ she said calmly. ‘That should about do it. All right Fulk, let’s get out of here.’ She rose and walked out without a second thought for the bill. The manager went after her angrily but something in her face when he confronted her must have made him change his mind , and he decided instead to go home and have a lie down. 

* * *

Denny sank down on his bed – his own bed, no point in sleeping in the spare room now – so, now he knew. Tamar did
not
want to be found. At least
he
had not been able to find her, which could only mean that she was hiding from him.

Why? He wondered. Why would she just leave like that? Surely, things had not been
that
bad.  He remembered the lightning slinging. Okay, so pretty bad then, but still … he had a nagging feeling that he was missing something, something important. Maybe, if he relaxed and stopped worrying at it, it would come to him.  He lay back and closed his eyes waiting for inspiration to hit him.

* * *

Tamar had been hanging around aimlessly for the last few days. She had been given new quarters and treated with deference. But still, she sensed that if push came to shove, she was a prisoner here. Of course, she would not have been Tamar if she had not already found a way out, but she was hanging fire on that for now.

‘Why?’ she wondered.  Was it to find out what was really going on here, or was it that she was not ready to leave this place yet? The truth, she decided, was that she was seriously considering The Director’s offer. But she had not made her mind up yet. The Director, perhaps sensing this, had left her alone since that first day and she had been given free access to the whole complex – more or less.  She knew that she would not be given total access or any more information until she said definitively that she would join them and she did not resent this attitude. In fact, she was led to believe that it was as much for her sake as for theirs. That if she knew too much, she would
never
be allowed to leave. They were not to know that she would find a way out anyway.

She had spent most of her time hanging around with the so-called Alpha team that she was expected to lead (
if
she decided to stay that was) pumping them for information, about themselves (which they were happy to give) and about The Agency (which they were not). Still she had managed to find out more than they realised, particularly from Tony the con man.

‘
Takes one to know one,’
she thought ironically, and she was better at it than he was. She refused to call him Tony, being certain that it was an alias and, as she had said, ‘if I don’t know your real name what shall I call you?’ 

He demurred, finally admitting that his name was embarrassing, which was tantamount to an admission, so she compromised and referred to him constantly as “Slick”

Slick was easy to pump for information being a talker by trade and, on top of this, almost insupportably arrogant. None the less, despite this, or perhaps because of this, she was beginning to rather like him. He did have a charm of his own, which he used shamelessly, rather like herself. 

Melissa was another talker; she chattered on inconsequentially all the time, which Tamar recognized as a defence against actually
telling
her anything.  However, she was a talented witch, Tamar surmised, and only needed experience to be as good as Cindy, maybe even better.

Ray turned out to be an amiable slacker (which was what he looked like) a computer geek and severely allergic to soap. There was not much below the surface there, Tamar decided. He spent his time following supernatural trends on the Aethernet, occasionally taking a break to play computer games of unparalleled viciousness and difficulty, and became pro-Tamar very quickly after she repeatedly beat him at “Demon Slayer II” having never played before – and with no intention of ever playing again. She forbore to point out that the demons were very unrealistic, inasmuch as they looked nothing like any of the demons she had previously met.  

David was a different story though. Tamar decided he was sly. Outwardly friendly, she sensed that he did not like her at all, or, in fact, anyone at all. David was no hacker; he was a programmer and weapons designer. It took Tamar two days of subtle espionage to discover what she suspected that the rest of the team did not even know; that weapons and computer programs were not all that he designed. She kept her knowledge to herself but resolved to keep an eye on him. She suspected that he was working independently of the team, directly for The Director and that he had been placed on the team to hide his true activities which, when viewed in the abstract, were horrifying.

Valerie was rarely there; she stopped in occasionally to show her face and cadge a coffee, but was not a part of the team’s activities. She monitored the teams when they were out in the field and had direct control (under The Director) of the base including the field agents like Rook and Dawber, handing out assignments etc. but otherwise had little to do with any of them.

Tamar thought she was disposed to resent her own presence but could not find any solid reason for thinking so. On the few occasions that they met, Valerie greeted her with a neutral remark and a bland smile, which was how she treated everyone – except Slick, who often got the favour of a wider smile and a light touch on the shoulder.

The team were definitely getting more relaxed around her now; it seemed that the longer she stayed the more they accepted that she was likely to stay for good.

‘Six more of these today,’ said Ray suddenly. ‘A definite trend I should say.’

Tamar was alert at once although she gave no sign of this, but rather continued to stare aimlessly out of the window. 

‘Six more of what?’ asked Slick impatiently. And Tamar blessed him silently. 

‘These spontaneous combustion cases,’ said Ray patiently. ‘You know? That’s sixteen altogether – that we know of anyway.’

Melissa coughed meaningfully, and an awkward silenced fell in which every head turned to Tamar who, feeling eyes on her, turned around slowly and stared blandly back in Denny’s best “who me?” manner.   

After a few moments, Ray cleared his throat and said, as if nothing had happened. ‘So, any more ideas about what’s behind it?’

‘It could be firestarters?’ said Melissa.

‘Dragons?’ supplied Slick.

‘Some sick bastard with a flamethrower,’ said David.

‘Dark matter,’ added Ray.

‘How’s that?’ said Slick

‘Dark matter,’ repeated Ray.

‘And how would that manage to incinerate someone?’ asked David disdainfully.

‘It wouldn’t,’ said Tamar taking a hand. ‘But nice thinking anyway, I can see where you’re going with it. It makes more sense than an external source of flame like a dragon or a firestarter or – what was it, “some sick bastard with a flame thrower”?’ She threw David a contemptuous glance.

‘Spontaneous combustion occurs from the
inside
out. That’s why it’s regarded as spontaneous.’ she added.

‘What do
you
think it is?’ said Ray. They all looked hopefully at her.

She shrugged. ‘What am I, an oracle? I don’t research things. I point and shoot at them.’ She sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll need more information,’ she said. ‘What can you tell me? Are the cases connected? Did the people know each other? Where did they happen? When?

‘Well,’ said Ray, ‘there’s no connection as such, but there
is
a pattern emerging. The cases are moving south.’

Tamar’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Let me see that data,’ she barked.

Ray hesitated.

‘If you want my help,’ snapped Tamar, ‘then, let me see it. Let me see it
now
!’

She had them all thoroughly nervous, she thought as she slipped gracefully into the seat that Ray had been previously occupying. She looked at the data; it made no sense to her whatsoever. However, it did not need to; she already knew what they were dealing with. Crettins.

If they were nervous, she thought, it was no more than they should be.  With Crettins on the loose, they had a big problem. 

* * *

Agent Dawber was considering leaving the Agency. He had been having a bad day. He had run into the new woman on team Alpha. Literally run right into her, and the way she had looked at him … That stare was terrifying. But that was not the real problem. The feelings that he was forgetting something had greatly intensified after this had happened. Perhaps it was the way she had looked at him. As if she recognized him, which was clearly … Well he had never met her, he was sure of that. But she had gazed searchingly at him as if she expected something. It was a relatively minor incident, so why was it preying on his mind so much?

Of course, Dawber was used to being stared at by women, he barely noticed these days, being completely obsessed with his work. Mind you, this was a woman that any man would notice and, besides, it had not been that kind of stare.

Then there was the strange note he had found in his inside pocket. It had to have been her, but how the hell had she done it? And why, what did it mean?

He had noticed it after he had gone to check his badge (the FBI one) they were required to hand these in periodically to have them changed and today had been his day, a small, crumpled piece of paper that he was certain had not been there before.  As soon as he had officially become “Agent Lowry”, he had escaped to the men’s washroom to see what it was.

Now, in the relative privacy of a cubicle, he looked at it again to see if it made any more sense than it had the first time.  Amazingly it did.

Agent Dawber,

Go to the house on the hill “Vir Domas” currently in Staffordshire; you will know it when you see it.  Ask for Denny, he will help you.  I think you know you are not safe here. You will be safe with him. Show him this letter, the words on the back are for him.  Go as soon as you can.

Tamar Black

Dawber pondered on this note for a long time trying to make it out. Who was Tamar Black? How did she know that he didn’t feel safe? Who was Denny? And what did she mean “
currently
in Staffordshire”?

“Vir Domus” that was Latin wasn’t it? ‘Home of Heroes’ – modest! Still, parts of it made sense, in that she was right, he didn’t feel safe here. But you did not just leave the Agency.
No one
left The Agency – not alive anyway. But somehow, her promise that he would be safe reassured him. There was something he had felt from her, brief though their contact had been, that engendered trust. She was not what she seemed. Then again, he had felt for a long time that no one here was. 

He read the note again and then curiously turned it over. There were no words on the back only a few scratch marks in pen, like something that had been written by a chicken in a tremendous hurry. Some sort of shorthand perhaps, but not one that Dawber recognised. “They are for Denny,” he thought.

His instinct was to burn the note, as he had been taught, but he could not; she had trusted him with it. All the more reason, he argued. If this note fell into The Director’s hands, she would be in trouble. She had, rather foolishly, in his opinion, signed it openly. But there was no reason for it to fall into The Director’s hands. Not unless he meekly handed it over and he would
not
. His expression grew grim. He would
not
betray her who was trying to help him. Somehow, it never occurred to him to doubt her. He made his mind up. He
would
go. He would find the house and this Denny character and see what happened. 

Now he just had to find a way to escape Rook and get away unnoticed.

* * *

‘Crettins’ Tamar tried to explain, ‘are remnants of a far older world. I suppose you would call them fire spirits, but that isn’t the half of it. They were born in the beginning, long before there was life on this planet when it was still clicking hot and covered in molten lava.’ She became aware that they were hanging on her every word in a most gratifying fashion. Her own little gang never looked at her like that.  ‘They live now in the earth’s core but sometimes they accidentally find their way to the surface, and when they do they become disorientated and afraid. It’s far too cold for them up here.’

‘Is that why they are heading south,’ asked Slick, ‘because it’s warmer?’

‘No, all temperatures on the surface are the same to them,’ said Tamar. ‘Freezing. ‘It’s like the difference to us between one part of the arctic and another. It all feels the same. Only it’s worse for them.’ She thought for a moment.  ‘It’s not the direction
per se
that’s important; it’s the fact that they go in
one
direction whatever it is. Crettins always move in more or less straight lines following the invisible lava currents beneath the earth’s surface.’

‘You seem to know a lot about them,’ said Ray.

‘I’ve seen this before,’ said Tamar vaguely. ‘It happens every so often. You always know when Crettins are around because of the spontaneous combustion, usually of animals but sometimes people. You see, they are attracted by the warmth. They enter a body and begin to use the heat within to warm themselves, they get hotter and hotter until …’ she gestured with her hands KABOOM! ‘They don’t mean any harm. They’re just trying to survive. The sad thing is, it doesn’t really heat them up enough. The body disintegrates long before the Crettin within feels any benefit at all. But they keep trying it.’

‘So what do we do about it?’ said Melissa practically.