RECRUITED: A Mike Humber Novella (Demon Series Book One) (3 page)

‘Tell me, Mike. Was it worth it?’

My reply is instant. ‘No.’

‘No? No sense of satisfaction? No perception that perhaps you gave justice but…’

‘He was a child rapist,’ I cut her off quickly. ‘That means he raped children. He hurt them in ways you cannot imagine. I caught him and I allowed my own reactions to dictate the situation and as a result he walked free. Yeah he was beaten and yeah he was hurt but those injuries healed. Where is he now? Is he in prison? Is he locked up with the other nonces?’

‘He’s in Belgium.’

‘Is he…what?’ I stare hard at her words. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, he’s in Belgium,’ she replies quietly, ‘he lives there now.’

‘How the fuck do you know that?’

‘We know lots of things, Mike.’

‘What the fuck is this?’ I feel the first simmer of anger starting to bubble up.

‘Please.’ She smiles at me with genuine warmth. ‘Drink your coffee.’

‘I don’t want the fucking coffee. How do you know where he is? Nobody knows where he is. He disappeared.’

‘He did,’ she agrees, ‘to Belgium.’

‘Cryptic fucking bollocks,’ I spit, ‘what the fuck…’ I glare at her then round at the room, ‘did he do this? Is this a fucking trap? The money he got…he paid for this to get me trapped…fucking cunt…where is he?’

‘Mr Humber,’ she says calmly, ‘I can reassure you that is not the case.’

‘What is the fucking case then?’

‘That is why you are here.’ She smiles again.

‘What? What the fuck you on about?’

‘For the case.’ She tilts her head back. ‘We’re going to offer you a case.’

Three

Sometimes things move so fast that it generates a feeling of floundering and confusion. That it’s being done on purpose is only another worrying aspect of it all. Thoughts race through my mind, questions that demand answers but then sometimes doing fuck all is the right thing to do. So I sip my coffee and wait.

She sips her coffee and waits.

We sip coffee and wait.

‘Were you looking for me?’ I ask after a long pause. It stands to reason this is the right question to ask.

She sighs before answering, ‘the ego of man. I rather think that’s the first unintelligent thing you’ve said so far.’

‘Thanks for the coffee.’ Placing the mug down I start towards the door.

‘Mike, sit down.’

‘You’re very beautiful,’ I don’t bother turning round to face her, ‘but I don’t like being played. It happened before…bye.’

‘You can’t get out.’ She’s out of the chair and following me down the corridor.

‘Watch me.’

‘Huntington House?’

I turn quickly to glare at her.

‘Huntington House,’ she repeats, ‘where you were played? Is that right? Tessa? The ghost?’

Tessa was the honey trap who I fell for and then saved when the people who paid her to fuck my life up turned on her, ‘is she here?’ the words come out quickly, ‘have you seen her?’ She walked out on me the day Lord Huntington was sentenced to life in prison, the only survivor from the stately home I burnt down. I woke up and she was gone. She left a note though saying sorry so that makes it all alright.

‘No, she’s not here but,’ she pauses to make sure I’m paying full attention, ‘we did speak to her.’

‘When?’ I take a step towards her. ‘Where? How?’

‘Mike, come back and sit down and we’ll go through everything.’

‘You’ll tell me right now or I’m gone.’

‘You can’t leave at this moment,’ she states with an almost apologetic exhalation of breath.

Can’t leave at this moment? I should stay and listen. I should put my tail between my legs and head back into that room and drink more coffee and maybe even eat a chocolate chip brioche roll. These people have made efforts to find me and find out about my life. They found Tessa. Tessa.

‘Fuck you,’ I’m too angry to do anything I’m told, ‘stubborn and aware of social manipulation.’

I head towards the stairs and spot the big gorilla glancing up with a head tilt as he listens to instructions being passed through the covert earpiece.

‘Mr Humber,’ his voice is deep and full of authority, ‘please go back with…’

‘I’m leaving.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Mr Humber.’

‘I’m leaving, get the fuck out of my way.’

He steps in front of the door which is just stupid as I don’t know the access code and I don’t have a swipe card to activate the door. I bet he does though and he’ll know the access code. ‘Open the door.’ I nod curtly. ‘Holding me here against my will is false imprisonment.’

‘Sorry, Mr Humber.’ Not a glimmer of concern on his impassive face, hands clasped in front and his legs planted firmly.

‘You’re huge.’ I cross the floor and through the metal detector that bleeps with a soft warning tone as red lights fixed to the side flash quickly.

‘Mike,’ the woman shouts from behind me, ‘don’t do this, please just come back.’

‘Move,’ I growl at the guard.

‘Mike, he can’t let you leave.’

‘Let me?’ I snap. ‘Mate, you’re letting me out or I’ll…’

‘Mike, stop and think,’ she pleads with the first real show of human emotion, ‘he has the swipe card and the access code. He will not let you out.’

He’s a big man with broad shoulders and heavy muscles. Strong legs by the looks of it but his waist looks quite slim which means he isn’t carrying extra weight which also means he’ll be able to move fast. His eyes harden as he realises I’m not backing down, his stance stiffens and his hands unclasp to hang ready at his sides. I maintain my stride for the last few feet, then right at the point he thinks he’s established my approach speed I charge with an explosion of speed. He’s ready for it, bracing for impact as his hands come up. I launch a flurry of blows which he deftly blocks but it distracts him from my bony knee driving into his bollocks. He lets out a gasp while I throat punch him then box his ears with a double slap. Pain in his gonads, ears ringing and a nasty burning sensation in his throat. He staggers to the side coughing and bent over. Legs wobbly like jelly. I reach over and rip the lanyard from his neck.

‘Punch the code in,’ I mutter while working out which way the card swipes through. ‘Punch the fucking code in,’ I snap when he doesn't move.

‘No,’ he gasps, ‘can’t.’

I’m on him quickly, grabbing his right arm which gets levered up behind his back. His shoulders are strong and big and the arm gives resistance so I grab his thumb and bend it against the joint while twisting his wrist to give a double whammy of intense pain. He gasps again and starts sinking down to alleviate the pressure. ‘Put the code in or I’ll break your arm.’

‘Mike!’ The woman strides across the floor. ‘Leave him alone right now.’

‘The code…’ the door buzzes and clicks open as the guard from the main door bursts through. He takes one look at me and comes in quick.

‘Cheers,’ I twist round and slam my body into the bloke I’m holding, he staggers into the path of the other one and buys me enough time to dart for the door before it swings shut. ‘Take care,’ I call out and head into the lobby. Which is where I come unstuck as the main door is armoured glass that needs the swipe card from the other guard and a fucking access code too. In the middle of the expanse I stop and let out a big sigh. Behind me the guards come through the door, one of them quiet the other wheezing from the pain radiating from his testicles.

‘Could you let me out please?’ I ask nicely with a swift decision that fighting two whopping great ex-soldiers might not be the best idea.

‘They can’t,’ the woman says from behind me. I remain facing the door weighing up my options. I can’t go through the glass. The door is too strong. I don’t know the codes and I’ll have to get the second swipe card. There is a phone on the reception desk that I could use to call the police but that will never happen. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself from the authorities, especially after what I did at Huntington House and even more so given that they’ve spoken to Tessa who no doubt told them exactly what I did for the price of a bag of chips.

I’ve got no choice really, and I am very bloody curious to know what’s going. I just hate being manipulated like this. I don’t mind the beautiful smiling woman so much as at least that’s a pleasant manipulation, but locking me in?

Turning round I see the two guards are holding position a few metres away with a suitable distance between them. One is red faced, sweating and visibly grimacing which is a worry as it also means he’ll be very pissed off. The other just looks pissed off that I kneed his mate in the bollocks and made them both look like twats in front of the woman.

‘What’s your name?’ I call past them to the receptionist who is clearly not just a receptionist.

‘Elizabeth,’ she replies, ‘
not
Lizzie or Liz…’ she adds pointedly.

We stare off for a few more seconds, both the guards itching to get stuck into me but knowing they can’t unless I make the first move.

‘I have three questions,’ I speak quietly and let the acoustic resonance carry my voice, ‘first, is she okay? Second, did you pay her for the information and third, is she somewhere safe?’

Elizabeth inclines her head slightly and thinks before answering, ‘she was okay,’ she says slowly, ‘not great but okay.’ At least she’s being honest. ‘Second yes we did pay her and yes, she is somewhere safe.’

Conflict within me. First that Tessa sold me out for money, but also that at least I know she is okay and she has some cash.

‘Okay,’ I nod and start back towards watching as the guards stiffen in anticipation of some nice violence, ‘but I’m only coming back for the coffee and an apple.’

‘Thank you,’ she speaks calmly but I can see the relief on her face.

‘Sorry about your bollocks,’ I shrug at the man mountain as I walk past, ‘but you left yourself wide open, and you,’ I turn to the other one and have to look up several inches at his glowering face, ‘you’re just massive.’

Back in the room with the armchairs I stare straight at the camera while Elizabeth disappears to either get more coffee or stick a finger up at the monitor on the other side. My knee hurts a bit from hitting him so hard but pain is my friend these days and I deny myself the relief of rubbing it.

She comes back in carrying only one mug this time which she places down on the table before taking a seat.

‘My name is Elizabeth Bouvier.’

‘Awesome.’ I lift the mug and wonder if it would be really that bad if I smoked in here.

‘I represent The Carlisle Group and undertake assessments of candidates to ensure suitability for roles.’

‘Wow,’ I can’t see an ashtray anywhere, I could use the plate if I tipped all the brioche rolls off.

‘The Carlisle Group are a specialist organisation that service the needs that were previously supplied by government agencies.’

‘Do you smoke?’

‘No I don’t smoke, the fiscal cut backs forced certain agencies to streamline their services and reduce their capabilities. However, the world still demands some of those services. Hence we formed to bridge that gap.’

‘Hmmm,’ I can’t see any smoke detectors on the ceiling. I shuffle position to drag my battered pouch of duty free tobacco out and set about rolling one up.

‘You can’t smoke in here.’

‘Let me out then.’ I lick the paper and seal the tube before rooting around again to find my lighter.

She watches me archly with a clear expression of distaste as I find my lighter, thumb the little wheel and magically make flame which I hold to the end of the badly rolled and slightly bent cigarette. Inhaling I look around for somewhere to flick the ash and spot the mugs we used for the last round of coffees. ‘You were saying?’ I prompt her after getting comfortable with two mugs, one for drinking and one for flicking ash.

‘We provide security forces for certain Middle East operations, including diplomatic protection, asset management and safe transportation. We do the jobs the military were doing but we do it better.’

‘Better than the army?’ I ask with disbelief. ‘Sure you do.’

We are better financed, better equipped and we train our personnel to a higher standard.’

‘But they’re still the army,’ I counter, ‘they’ve got tanks and shit.’

‘We have tanks,’ she shrugs an almost imperceptible movement of shoulders, ‘among other equipment.’

‘You’ve got tanks?’

She looks at me with a plain expression. ‘We also supply forensic services for the police. Scene examination, photographic evidence, analysis of particle evidence. We have resources, expertise and facilities far advanced from what the previous government agencies offered.’

‘Does my smoking bother you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh well, have you really got tanks?’

‘Our diversity continues to grow and we have need of the skills and services people like you once had.’

‘Once had?’

‘We re-train those we recruit and bring them back into the modern working environment with excellent salaries and many benefits.’

‘I’m not here for that though am I,’ a statement made, casually, flippant and with an arrogance I hope pisses her off. ‘You know who I am. You’ve taken the time and effort to background check me and by paying Tessa, you know what I’ve done. You’re hand selecting me for something. You said before you had a case and you mentioned that cunt…’

‘Please,’ she winces, ‘that word is disgusting.’

‘Cunt?’ I lock eyes on hers, ‘cunt is disgusting? So is locking someone in a building against their will…’

‘Even so, I think…’

‘I don’t care what you think,’ I cut her off with a brutal tone, ‘you’re a cunt too.’

She balks visibly, the blood draining from her face.

‘Sorry,’ I lean forward to press the attack, ‘does that offend you? Being called a cunt?’

‘No,’ she mumbles, ‘it’s fair enough given the circumstances.’

Closing my eyes, a flood of shame sweeps through me. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, ‘that was unforgivable.’

‘Doesn't matter.’ Stiffening her resolve she carries on in a business like fashion, ‘we have need of different levels of skills, aptitudes and abilities to undertake and achieve certain fulfilments.’

‘I am sorry,’ I repeat, ‘I get angry sometimes.’

‘Clearly. We know where your man is. We know his appetite for children has not been suppressed and he is still offending.’ My heart beats faster as I stare down into the murky depths of my coffee mug. ‘He is active, Mike.’

‘Report him then,’ I whisper. My hands tremble as memories of what he did come flooding back.

‘That is an option,’ she says carefully, ‘and one we have of course considered, but there are other options.’