The Supernaturalist (19 page)

‘I thought I might be hearing from you, Stefan,’ she said, a smile tugging at one corner of her lips. ‘That was you at the Satellite, wasn’t it? Floyd Faustino indeed. How on Earth did you get those access codes? Surely I didn’t accidentally allow you to glimpse my computer screen.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Stefan innocently.

‘I thought you might take matters into your own hands,’ continued Ellen. ‘In fact I hoped you might.
Sometimes the red tape just takes too long to unravel.’

‘It’s starting to sound like I’m working for you, Professor Faustino.’

Faustino’s smile widened. ‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it. That was you at Clarissa Frayne too, I presume. The Supernaturalists don’t waste any time, do they?’

Stefan chose his words carefully. ‘If that was us, and I’m not for one second admitting that it was, then we may have a problem.’

Ellen frowned. ‘A problem? But the Energy Pulse worked perfectly. I would have preferred it if you hadn’t knocked out the power in ten city blocks, but it was short-term and my team have been gathering Un-Spec 4 bodies all morning.’

It was Stefan’s turn to frown. ‘Gathering bodies? What for? Why?’

Ellen held a finger to her lips. ‘I don’t want to say any more on a company line, I’ve already said too much. Just excited, I suppose. You can see for yourself on your next visit.’

‘To pick up my pay cheque?’ said Stefan wryly.

‘I’m a busy woman, Stefan. What’s this problem that has you so worried?’

‘One of my team, a soon to be ex-member, feels that the Parasites, Un-Spec 4 that is, may not be as malignant as we thought. He believes that they simply ease our suffering. Take our pain, as it were. If that’s true, then there’s no need to fight them.’

Faustino seemed genuinely worried. ‘What?’ Faustino paused. ‘I can’t imagine how that would be possible, but I’ll put my entire team on it immediately. No more Energy Pulses until we determine the truth. Just stand down for the time being, until we can put some trials together. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks to get results. Can you wait that long?’

‘I’ve waited three years,’ replied Stefan. ‘I can wait a couple of weeks.’

Faustino’s eyes were downcast. ‘I know that this must be hard for you to accept, Stefan. But remember, nothing has been proven yet. We may still be on the right track.’

‘Two weeks,’ said Stefan, closing the phone.

Ditto released a breath he’d been holding for almost the entire call.

‘Two weeks. I’m right, you’ll see.’

Stefan threw his phone to him. ‘I don’t want to hear it, Ditto. Whatever the results of Professor Faustino’s trials, you’ve been lying to us for years. We put our faith and our lives in your hands, and they never were your priority.’

‘I never did anything to hurt anybody or anything. I won’t apologize for that.’

‘It’s too late for apologies, Ditto. You deceived us all. We can’t trust you any more. At first light, I want you out of here.’

Ditto looked up into Stefan’s eyes. They were hard and hurt.

‘Very well. If that’s how you want it, that’s how it will be.’

Stefan turned his back on the Bartoli Baby.

‘That’s how I want it,’ he said.

Look on the bright side,
he told himself.
At least your hair is growing. In a couple of months, you won’t look like the back end of a troll any more.

Mona appeared in the doorway to his cubicle.

‘
Oi
, you awake?’

Cosmo sat up on the bunk. ‘Yes. I got a couple of hours’ sleep, but I dreamed about Ditto.’

Mona perched on the end of the bunk. ‘I know what you mean. I don’t think Stefan can cope with this. First he’s helping the Parasites multiply; now they were only trying to take our pain.’

‘If Ditto is right.’

‘Yes, if Ditto is right.’

Mona pulled her hair back into a ponytail, wrapping a
band around it. ‘I’ve been thinking about moving on, Cosmo. Maybe getting a job with Jean Pierre in Booshka; he’s been trying to rope me in for years. Anyway, if he’s not going to be around much longer, someone has to keep the gangs’ cars on the road.’

Cosmo felt his stomach churn. The idea of Mona actually leaving had never occurred to him. ‘Are you sure? You seem such an action girl.’

Mona smiled. ‘Yeah, I love the shoot ’em up. It’s like a vid game. Blast the evil blue aliens. But they’re not aliens, maybe they’re not even evil. I don’t think I could point a rod at something unless I was one hundred per cent certain.’

Cosmo nodded. He felt the same.

‘So I was thinking, I’m going to need a grease monkey. Someone who learns quick. You think you could do a sim-oil change?’

Cosmo grinned, his teeth shining in the darkness.

‘Me? You want me to come with you?’

Mona punched him on the shoulder. ‘Why not? We make a good team. You’re always saving me.’

Cosmo opened his mouth to say yes, but the word stuck in his throat. ‘I’d love to, Mona. There’s nothing I’d like more, but Stefan took me in…’

Mona’s eyes were sad, but not surprised. ‘I understand, Cosmo. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere until Ellen Faustino has finished her tests. Maybe you’ll change your mind.’

‘Maybe,’ said Cosmo gloomily. Just him and Stefan. What a laugh riot that was going to be.

The para-legals and their thirty kilograms are transported through the air by Myishi Whisper Copters. A combination helicopter and glider with vertical lift-off capability and rigid glider wings. Not to mention enough armament to obliterate anything stupid enough to point more than a finger at it.

The para-legals have several methods of entry in their manual, but their all-time favourite is
ghost-like.
They like their quarry to wake up in a cellophane wrap, with no idea how they got there. No fatalities. Less paperwork.

Abracadabra Street was no great challenge for a squadron that had broken into several foreign banks, two crime lords’ strongholds and a private kindergarten. They simply abseiled down the walls, set radio jammers to cancel out the motion sensors and adhered large squares of glass solvent to the windows.

When the squadron leader gave the command, the para-legals passed a current through the solvent squares and suckered the windows out of their panes. The entire
procedure was covered by the building’s heavy curtains.

Two dozen para-legals entered the premises through various entrances and set their goggles for body heat. When the command was given they split into four groups and went after their specified targets.

In truth, many of the para-legals felt slightly disappointed. They had heard a lot about the vigilante, Stefan Bashkir, and were hoping he would make a real fight of it. But it looked as though this would be done the easy way. Nobody would resist them here. It didn’t even look like anyone was awake.

‘You’ve done this before,’ said the para-legal, pulling the trigger.

Mona, always a light sleeper, actually made it out of the bed before they got her. Amazingly for someone with no formal combat training, she managed to incapacitate two para-legals before the third tagged her with a Shocker. They waited until she had stopped shaking to hit her with a cellophane slug.

Stefan heard the struggle in Mona’s cubicle. He burst through his own cubicle door, straight into the arms of half a dozen para-legals. Several more were packing up the Supernaturalists’ weaponry and computers. For the first time in his life, Stefan Bashkir went without a fight.

‘You’re making a mistake,’ he said, lacing his fingers behind his head. ‘We are working with Myishi. Just contact President Faustino at the R&D department. I’m telling you, this is all a mistake.’

A para-legal wrapped him at close range.

‘That’s what they all say,’ he said.

Ditto was lying awake on his cot, fully clothed. His duffel bag sat on the floor, ready for the morning.

‘Pazza delivery?’ he said to the first para-legal through the door.

‘No one likes a smart-ass,’ said the man, and wrapped him.

‘Hiya, sweetie,’ he said, attaching the suction cup to Cosmo’s head. ‘I had a feeling we’d be seeing each other again. They flew me over here specially for this job. I’m on double overtime.’

The Supernaturalists were tossed unceremoniously into the vat of yellow acid, dangling from a series of suction cups. The sedative in the cellophane had seeped into their systems by then, so they offered no resistance,
relaxing in their liquid prison. The acid solution immediately went to work on the cellophane wraps, eating through the virus. It was a slow process and it would be at least an hour before they had any mobility. Until that time, they had no choice but to hang there and think nice thoughts. Any struggle would only tighten the cellophane’s grip on their chests.

Once the vat man had finished tying off the last Supernaturalist, he made a call on the building intercom. Within minutes, Ellen Faustino arrived flanked by two bodyguards. When she saw the Supernaturalists suspended in the vat, she actually slapped the vat man on the chest.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ she demanded. ‘These people are supposed to be dead! All I wanted to see was four bodies to be sure they were dead. These are clearly very much alive.’

Inside the vat, Faustino’s words cut through Stefan’s daze. Dead! There must be a mistake. What was happening here? Why would Professor Faustino want them dead? Ellen Faustino wouldn’t want anybody dead. She was a scientist.

The vat man didn’t exactly bow, but he came close. ‘Sorry, President Faustino. Nobody told me. I’ll lower them immediately. In twelve hours there’ll be nothing left but molecules.’

Stefan tried to speak, but his breath barely rippled the cellophane. He thrashed weakly in the acid vat, but the wrap held him tightly.

‘So you’re awake, Stefan,’ said Faustino, resting her palms against the plasti-glass.

Stefan’s mouth couldn’t ask why, so his eyes did it for him.

‘Are you confused?’ asked Faustino. ‘Don’t you understand what’s happening here?’

They were all listening, fighting the sedative.

‘It’s like I told you, Stefan, you were working for me. All of you. The Supernaturalists were cutting corners that I couldn’t. Getting jobs done that would take me months to get clearance for. And I don’t have that kind of time.’

She paused in her narrative, ordering the vat man to the other side of the facility.

‘This is top-secret stuff,’ she explained. ‘If he hears any more, I’ll have to kill him, and good vat men are hard to find. Things were going fine until you developed a conscience. You found Un-Spec 4, just as I knew you would, and you set off the Energy Pulse. If I had tried to do either of those sneaky things, I would surely have been found out.’

Stefan didn’t feel very sneaky at the moment. He felt gullible and naive.

‘It could have been perfect: the Supernaturalists knock out the Parasites and my team collect them. I would have developed a clean power source and saved the Satellite. But now, suddenly, after three years, the obsessed Stefan Bashkir changes his mind and doesn’t want to fight
Parasites any more. Now the Supernaturalists are no longer assets, they are loose ends. And we all know what happens to loose ends. They get cut. In a few hours there will be no trace of you or your little group. I even had my boys confiscate your equipment from Abracadabra Street. There won’t be so much as a computer file or a fingerprint left by the time I’m finished.’

Stefan swung his lower body at the tank wall, but his rubber-soled boots bounced harmlessly off the plasti-glass.

Faustino laughed. ‘Still the same little Stefan. Fighting all the way. Just like your mother.’ She leaned closer to the tank. ‘There are two more things you should know, just to punish you for slowing down my plan. Firstly, your team mate is correct. Of course Un-Spec 4 do not suck life force. Only an obsessive like you could believe that. We conducted tests on lab rats. Several rats were injured. Those kept in an underwater environment, away from Un-Spec 4, survived no longer than the ones helped by the Parasites. We also conducted human trials, on… ah… volunteers. The results were the same. Intervention by Un-Spec 4 actually lowered the subjects’ stress levels. They take pain only. To cap it all off, their energy emissions actually seem to be repairing the ozone layer. That bit about them destabilizing the Satellite was just another lie to get you hooked. If it makes you feel any better, the Pulse did not kill them. Energy can not be destroyed: basic science. The Pulse does seem to have
rendered them sterile, so levels will quickly drop to normal.’

Cosmo felt his eyelids droop.
Stay awake,
he told himself.
Or you may never wake again.
Beside him, Mona was already unconscious. But Stefan’s eyes grew brighter by the minute. Hate kept him going, as it had for three years.

‘You’re really going to love this second piece of information, Stefan,’ continued Faustino. ‘If you ever bothered to check my academy record, Stefan, you might have seen that several other cadets suffered near-death experiences.’

Faustino watched Stefan intently, waiting for him to get it. Suddenly he did, jerking violently inside his cellophane cocoon.

Ellen clapped her hands. ‘Well done. The penny drops. That’s right, Stefan. I was already working for Myishi, even back then, and you were part of an experiment. I became a Spotter through a genuine accident, but you were created. I realized how Spotters were made and decided to make a few more. Did you never think it strange that the ambulance just happened to be around the corner? All arranged. Eventually I would have recruited you to my group, but you quit the force and started up a little group of your own. It was unfortunate about your mother, but it
is
against regulations to carry passengers in a police cruiser, so you only have yourself to blame.’

Stefan stopped struggling abruptly, hanging from his
suction cup. Bitter tears coursed down his cheeks, pooling in the cellophane.

‘Aw,’ crooned Faustino. ‘Have I broken your spirit? What a shame.’

She snapped her fingers, summoning the vat man.

‘Dunk them,’ she ordered. ‘I don’t want as much as a back tooth left to trace them back to R&D.’

‘No problem, President,’ said the man. ‘Consider them out of your life.’ He climbed the steps to the suction cup winches, freeing the ratchets on each one. The cogs spun freely, submerging the Supernaturalists’ heads in the giant vat of acidic compound.

‘Nicely done,’ said Ellen Faustino. ‘Expect a little bonus in your pay cheque.’

‘Thank you, President, always a pleasure.’

But the vat man was talking to himself, Ellen Faustino was already gone. There was work to be done and she did not have a few spare hours to watch Supernaturalists dissolve in acid.