The Many (27 page)

32

Karl tightened his grip on the knife. He could’ve sprinted for the front door, but Dawn wasn’t capable of running. And he was damned if he was going to leave her behind.

He pulled Dawn back from the hallway. “Get down,” he whispered, pulling on her sleeve.

She crouched next to him on the stairs, peering out through the banister. They were hidden as long as the man coming up from the basement headed straight for the front door. But if he turned the other way, they’d be exposed.

A tall figure rose up from the floorboards: slow-moving, gray-haired, long black overcoat.
Leach.
Karl was almost relieved. It was the devil he knew. Leach, the prisoner, would surely make a beeline for the front door. But just as Karl thought they might go unnoticed, Dawn gasped beside him. 

Leach whirled around, a set of car keys slipping from his hand. His eyes flitted nervously between Karl and Dawn. Karl jumped to his feet, moving in front of Dawn on the stairs. “I’ll fucking cut you,” he said, pointing the tip of the knife at Leach.

“Don’t come any closer, boy!” Leach warned, reaching inside his overcoat.

In that instant, Karl knew that Leach had taken McElroy’s gun. That’s why he’d risked returning to the basement instead of fleeing the scene. Without wasting another thought, Karl rushed towards him. Leach had already removed the gun from his overcoat, but he fumbled with the grip, and Karl slashed at Leach’s right hand before he could fire. Leach howled in agony, dropping the gun to the floor and clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. Karl swooped on the gun, skipping back a few steps to give himself room.

He tucked the knife into his belt and wrapped both hands around the gun. Then he took aim down the hallway. Leach was cowering against the wall, cradling his wounded hand. No longer a threat. His attention shifted to Dawn, who was still huddled at the bottom of the staircase. “Come on,” he urged. “Before the others get here.”

Dawn looked out through the banister with unblinking eyes. She made no effort to move.

“He’s just a weak old man,” Karl said. “He can’t hurt you now.”

Leach looked up, a fresh glimmer in his eyes. He turned to Dawn and said, “You have to follow through. There’s still one left.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Karl warned.

“You remember, don’t you?” Leach said. “What you have to do.”

The words hung heavily in the air. Karl’s eyes shifted nervously to Dawn. She stood up suddenly. “Kill them all,” she said in a chilling monotone.

The staircase creaked as Dawn stepped down into the hall. Karl’s stomach dropped, watching the scene unfold like a slow-moving nightmare. Leach grinned as his protégé slid past him. She started walking towards Karl.

Karl pointed the gun at her. “Back off!”

Dawn halted, her eyes lowering to the barrel of the gun.

“
Go on
,” Leach hissed. “He won’t hurt you….”

“–Shut up!” Karl cried.

“–Take the gun from him,” Leach pressed. “He’s just another filthy pig.”

“I’ll shoot you, Dawn,” Karl said. “Please don’t make me shoot you.”

Her gaze lifted to meet Karl’s. Her head tilted slightly, as if trying to place him. A crease began to form on her forehead.

Leach said, “He’s not your friend, he’s a
pig
.”

Karl opened his mouth to object, but already Dawn had resumed her slow march.
She only had ears for her master.
Karl backed away, his mind scrambling through his options. Leach was right – he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her. But would he be able to stop her with his bare hands? He’d already seen how ferocious she could be.

“
Fuck
, Dawn. Snap out of it. Look, I’m putting the gun down.”

He threw the gun behind him, holding his hands up. She kept coming. Karl had almost backtracked to the front door. He reached behind his jeans, fumbling for the knife handle.
If he cut her, at least it would heel.
And suddenly Dawn was charging at him – fists clenched, arms flailing. Karl slashed the air in front of him, hoping to scare her off, but she rushed right into the blade. Her body fell against him, and he pushed her away with a surge of revulsion. Dawn stumbled back, somehow managing to stay on her feet. She stared at him from the other end of the hallway, blood dripping from deep gashes in her forearms. Karl dropped the knife in horror.

“Finish him!”
Leach ordered, shoving her in the back. “
Don’t give up!”

Karl was shaking his head. “Please, Dawn. No…”

She rushed at him again, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. Without thinking, Karl grabbed the gun from the floor and pulled the trigger, the shot kicking through his arm. The bullet found its target. Leach’s body jolted, and blood sprayed out of his chest and flicked the wall. For a moment he wavered on his long legs – staring at Karl in disbelief. His lips trembled, like he was trying to say something, but only a plaintive moan came out. Then his knees caved in, and he collapsed to the floor.

Karl lowered his arm, the echo of the gunshot ringing in his ears. Shooting Leach had been pure instinct. He wasn’t sure if he’d made the right decision, or what the ramifications would be. He looked worryingly at Dawn, who’d stopped dead in her tracks. She was staring at Leach, as if expecting him to get up. When she turned back to Karl, her eyes had lost their predatory focus. She looked lost; stunned.

“It’s okay,” Karl said, moving towards her.

Dawn shook her head sadly.

“He’s dead,” Karl said. “He has no power over you.”

She stared at him, her eyes watering. “He’s not the enemy,” she said softly.

Karl frowned, pretending he didn’t understand. He’d been hoping she wouldn’t remember her time in the white room. But he could see his confused act was wasted. Dawn’s haunted eyes said it all.

“–I remember everything,” she said. “What that monster did. What
I
did.” She looked down, touching her naked belly. “They’ll come for me.”

“But why would they…” Karl cut off his question, distracted by a scraping sound. He looked over at the body in the hallway.

Leach’s shoes were shifting on the floorboards.

Karl drew in a breath, his muscles tensing. Leach wasn’t about to get up, but if he could move his mouth, he was still dangerous. The safest option was to get the fuck out of the house.

“We should go,” he said, tucking the warm gun back under his belt. He took off his denim jacket and wrapped it around Dawn. Then he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the door. It was like trying to shift a dead weight. He gave her hand a squeeze. “Come
on
,” he urged.

Dawn didn’t respond. Her shoulders were hunched, and her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Karl’s heart shuddered.
She was heading the same way as Stacey.
And no wonder, they’d been poisoned with the same drugs. Raped by the same monsters.

Anger roiled up inside him. He glared back at Leach, whose shoes were still making small circles on the floor. If he walked out now, he would’ve achieved nothing. Avenged no one.

Karl let go of Dawn’s hand. “Wait there,” he told her. Her expression gave no indication that she understood, but her bare feet stayed rooted to the spot. She wasn’t going anywhere without being led.

Karl went and stood over Leach’s crumpled frame. His cheek was pressed flat against the floor, but his exposed eye rolled up to meet Karl. “Kill me, boy,” he mumbled from the side of his mouth. “Just kill me.”

“Tell me how to find them.”

Leach laughed weakly. “You can’t. No one can.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been here over a year. You must know something. A name.”

A cough spluttered from Leach’s mouth. He was clearly suffering, but there was still life in his voice. “They don’t use names. No faces, no names. I’m not sure they even know each other.”

“How’s that possible? You said they’re the most powerful families in the world!”

“Not in the way you’re thinking. They aren’t the Rothschilds, or the fucking Clintons. They don’t get invited to gala events and charity balls. They’re
evil
, in a way that could never exist in the public eye.”

Karl was shaking his head. “They can’t be completely anonymous. There must be a ringleader, someone who’s giving out orders…”

“–You’re not hearing me, boy! Forget what you know about power and privilege.” Leach cleared his throat in a grumbling manner. “Let me tell you a story, see if I can help you understand. Adam Reynolds wasn’t my first eye specialist at the hospital. That was Doctor Gertz, a resident ophthalmologist who’d been in the job thirty years. One day, Gertz didn’t show up for our regular appointment. I was told he’d taken indefinite leave. Later, I learned he’d flown to Australia to be with his daughter, whose twelve-year-old son had just shot himself. The bullet turned the boy’s head inside out, but it somehow missed the important parts of his brain, causing just enough damage to ensure he’d be spoon-fed and ass-wiped for the rest of his life. By all accounts, he’d been a happy child up until then. And nobody could explain how he’d gotten the gun.”

Leach paused, his breath loud and ragged. “The boy was the apple of his grandfather’s eye. The doctor’s only male heir. Gertz ended up handing in his resignation, and a week later, Adam Reynolds was assigned as my new specialist.” Leach’s visible eye fixed on Karl. “Do you understand me now, boy? What you’re up against?”

A sick feeling had grown in Karl’s stomach. “Why didn’t they just kill him,” he said. Gertz, I mean. Why punish the grandson…”

‘–Because they wanted to send a message! If you defy them, they’ll turn your worst fears into reality. Fears so shocking and cruel you haven’t even imagined them yet. That’s how they control people.”

Karl’s head was throbbing. He didn’t want to think about Doctor Gertz anymore. Leach was throwing him off his game. “Enough horror stories,” he growled, kicking the floor with frustration. “You have to give me
something
. A proper lead.”

“I’m giving you
advice.
You need to run, boy, before we’re all at their mercy. For your own sake, and the girl’s, just kill me and be done with it.”

Karl was starting to feel the old man’s urgency.
They put a gun in a twelve-year-old’s hand. Turned him into a vegetable
. “No, I’ve seen enough killing for one day,” he said, angling for the front door. “And I don’t want to waste another bullet.”

Leach cried, “No,
wait
. There is something.”

Karl looked down at him from the corner of his eye. “Go on.”

Leach strained to lift his head from the floorboards. “But first you have to promise to kill me. Make sure of it this time.”

“Tell me what you know and I’ll think about it.”

“No. If I tell you and they find me, it’ll make it worse. You have to promise.”

Karl sighed, turning around. “Okay, I promise.”

Leach’s eyes narrowed, as if doubting Karl’s sincerity. Eventually, he said, “The old families – they call each other brother. How are you, brother? Nice to see you, brother. That’s how they talk.”

A few seconds ticked by. “That’s it?” Karl said.

Leach’s head clunked to the floor. “That’s all I know. If I told you anything else, it would be a lie.”

Karl grunted with frustration. Leach was a sadistic worm, but he got the feeling he was telling the truth. There was no reason for him to protect the families’ identities – not at this late stage. He only wanted to die.

But could Karl go through with it?
He’d never killed anyone before, and he guessed it would be harder on him that it would be on Leach. And besides, he wasn’t under any obligation to do the old man a favor. He should just leave him for the families to deal with. It was nothing less than he deserved.

A small sniff broke Karl’s train of thought. He glanced back at Dawn. She was still standing at the other end of the hallway, trembling in his denim jacket like a wounded bird. Her face bore no emotion, but Karl got the feeling she was watching him. Waiting. 

“Fuck it,” Karl said, turning back to Leach. He aimed the gun at a small green vein in the old man’s temple. Leach closed his eyes, his expression relaxing. He whispered something inaudible that might have been a thank you.

Karl’s arms felt weak, and he had to fight to steady his aim. He took three long breaths. “Look away,” he said to Dawn.

Then he did as he promised.

PART FOUR

1

Damian Kerr leaned forward and idly clicked his mouse, moving from the
Wall Street Journal
to the
New York Times
. More drivel about lackluster wage growth, the immigration crisis in Europe, and bickering within the GOP. It seemed like the headlines hadn’t changed in years.

There was nothing interesting in the news anymore – just repeats of the same old gripes, the same old conflicts. He had half a mind to cancel all his newspaper subscriptions. At the very least he should cancel the
Times
, which only made him angry with its liberal handwringing and one-eyed editorials. He was a fool to give those tree-huggers his hard-earned money.

The voice on the phone continued to babble in his ear, getting over-excited about projected cash flow yields and expansion opportunities in Korea. Damian had forgotten what company the young analyst was talking about. He couldn’t even remember the brokerage house he represented. Morgan Stanley? JP Morgan? It made no difference – they were all the same. He should never have taken the call.

“Just e-mail me the research,” he finally said, hanging up.

Damian sighed, letting his shoulders slump. He was bored of the game. Listening to stock ideas and constructing portfolios used to put fire in his blood. He could work fourteen-hour days and never feel tired. Now, it was a struggle to stay awake past lunchtime. And it wasn’t because he was old, like his wife kept teasing. Fifty wasn’t old – hell, he’d never been in better shape. He ran two half-marathons a year. He could still bench-press one-eighty. It wasn’t his body making him feel tired. It was the fucking monotony of his daily existence.

Yawning, Damian pulled his chair closer to his oak-paneled desk. He opened up his Outlook calendar, grimacing when he saw an afternoon full of client meetings and analyst visits. Still, he had a spare twenty minutes until his next appointment. He glanced up, checking his office door was closed.
Enough time for a bit of fun.

Damian brought up 18andTasty.com on his browser. After closing the pop-up ads, he scrolled through the girls of the day. He immediately recognized Nikki, the peach-skinned blonde with the pouty lips. Today, she was wearing a white blouse and a tight black skirt, posing as a naughty secretary. It wasn’t his preferred uniform – he much preferred cheerleader or schoolgirl – but Nikki could make anything look good. Clicking on the new photo set, he reached down between his legs and palmed his prick to life, ready to show the filthy slut a good time.

But before he could properly ogle the first photo, his phone started to ring. He quickly closed the window and pulled his hand out from under the desk, glaring at Margaret’s name on the display screen. Did she have to put through every fucking call? He needed to give her a list of people she could brush off herself.

“Yes?” he answered testily.

“I have a Philip Henry on the line. He says you did business together last year.”

“Never heard of him. Jesus, Margaret, you don’t need to interrupt me every time a goddamn salesman calls.”

“I wouldn’t normally, but he said it was urgent. He said it’s about your recent trip to Portland, if that means something to you.”

Damian felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Portland. Now
there
was a time. He’d heard the program had been temporarily shelved, not surprising given the hoopla surrounding Leach’s death, but perhaps it had been reinstated. He hoped so. Damian was still electrified by the memory of fucking that sexy dark-haired slut while her mother watched….

“Shall I get rid of him, Mister Kerr?”

“No, no. Put him through.”

“As you wish.”

He could picture Margaret rolling her eyes as she transferred the call. Damian cleared his throat and sat up stiffly before answering. “Yes?”

“Mister Kerr? This is Philip Henry.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We haven’t, not directly. But I was involved in the Portland project last month. You were a participant, I believe.”

Damian hesitated before responding. The old families usually communicated through regular mail – printed messages inside plain white envelopes. That was their style: discreet and untraceable. Yet here was a stranger, calling on an unsecure line, asking him about a highly sensitive project.
Could they be testing him?

“How did you get my name?” he said. “I thought we were supposed to be anonymous at all times.”

“I understand your caution, brother. But these are exceptional circumstances. I’ve been tasked with accelerating the project after Portland was shut down. And to make up for lost time, we’re approaching those participants who’ve already had successful outcomes. That way, we can…”

“–Wait, wait, wait. You mean the girl’s pregnant?”

“Yes.”

Damian’s heart swelled with pride.
He knew he’d given that bitch the good stuff.
No wonder the families were eager to employ his services again. He was like a prize fucking stallion.

“Okay, brother,” he said. “I’m listening.”

“Excellent. I’m traveling to New York this week, and I was hoping to run through a number of options with you.”

“Sure, sure,” Damian said, his heart bumping with excitement. “But can you send through some photos this time? The last girl was okay, but I really prefer blondes….”

“–I’m afraid our new security policy doesn’t allow the electronic transfer of information. However, like I said, I’m in New York this week. I’d be happy to meet with you in person.”

“You’ll have photos with you?” Damian wanted to confirm.

“Of course.”

Damian was getting flushed just thinking about it. “Tomorrow night,” he said, knowing his wife would be out of town. “You could come to my house.”

“That would work for me.”

Damian gave directions to his Greenwich residence, asking Philip Henry to call at eight o’clock, sharp. “One last thing,” he said. “Now that we know each others names, should I still wear my mask?”

“No need, brother. I won’t tell if you don’t.”