The Supernaturalist (17 page)

Fred Allescanti, possibly the biggest no-brainer in Satellite City, was drinking sim-coffee in the security booth’s only decent chair.

‘Hey, Fred. You want to give me a turn in the swivel chair?’

Fred took another annoying slurp of brown liquid. ‘No can do, Redwood. My back plays up something terrible if I don’t support it right.’

Redwood frowned. ‘What if I just take the chair. Let’s say I just go crazy and throw you straight through the window and just occupy the chair while you’re getting your sutures?’

‘Go ahead, big shot,’ grinned Fred. ‘I could use the compensation money.’

Maybe Allescanti wasn’t as dumb as he looked.

‘Well, at least stop slurping that sim-coffee. I swear, Fred, you’re driving me demented. Who knows what I might do.’

Fred pointed at the camera over their heads. ‘Make
sure you do it on camera, Redwood. I can use the footage in my court case.’

Redwood’s face burned red. Even Fred Allescanti was getting lippy since he’d been demoted. He needed to get back on the streets, back where he had some power. If only he could somehow recover Cosmo Hill.

A red alert began to bip softly on a security computer. The icon was in the shape of a running man. One of the no-sponsors was on the move outside a designated area. At last, someone to vent his frustration on. Redwood activated the tracker-pattern program, running a match on the pattern. One by one the orphans were eliminated, as they were located in their beds or designated leisure areas. Who was on the move? Who was left? The signal was very faint, as if most of the electronegative micro-beads used to track the orphans had been removed, or shorted out.

Shorted out? Redwood’s heart rate speeded up. Only two orphans could have shorted out their microbeads. One was dead and the other was Cosmo Hill.

Redwood called up Cosmo’s pattern. It was very faint, only the faintest pulse, but definitely active. The ex-marshal doubted if the scanners would have picked him up at all if he wasn’t close by. Very close by. On his way down to the basement by the looks of it.

Redwood consulted the security screens, checking the two suits he’d mistaken for medical researchers. The short one must be Cosmo. For some insane reason, Hill
had actually returned. Redwood didn’t know why and he didn’t care. This was the ex-marshal’s chance to redeem himself. He could bring in Hill and his accomplice. Of course he would need to talk to Hill alone first, to make sure they had their stories straight about the night of the crash. Redwood stood, taking a lightning rod from the gun cabinet.

‘Hey, Redwood,’ said Fred. ‘What are you doing with a rod? You’re not a floor marshal any more.’

Redwood didn’t even look at him. ‘I’m going on my rounds.’

‘Rounds? What are you, a doctor? We’re security, we don’t do rounds here. That’s why we have cameras.’

‘Not in the basement we don’t. It’s about time someone checked down there. You want to come?’

Allescanti lolled back in the swivel chair, wrapping his hands around a warm coffee mug. ‘No thanks, Redwood. It’s all yours.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Redwood, holstering the rod.

Stefan peered at him from under the brim of a felt hat.

‘Are you OK, Cosmo?’ he said, the bristles of his false moustache waving slightly.

‘I’m OK. Let’s go.’

‘Are you sure?’

Cosmo nodded. ‘Ten minutes and we’re in and out.’

They approached the admissions booth and Stefan flashed two laminated fake IDs at a guard playing a hand-held video cube. Cosmo kept his head down, in the shadows of his own hat.

‘Komposite,’ said the guard, trying to look as though he cared. ‘You guys had quite a fire over there last week.’

Stefan nodded. ‘Yeah. Took out the entire canteen, worse luck.’

The guard shook his head sympathetically. ‘What are you testing this time?’

Stefan patted the attaché case under his arm. ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’

The guard gave him two visitors’ passes. ‘Yeah, sure. Good one. You can collect these ID cards on your way out.’

Stefan clipped a pass to his lapel, handing the other to Cosmo. The guard was back playing his video game before they had taken half a dozen steps.

‘He never even looked at me,’ whispered Cosmo.

Stefan smiled. ‘They don’t pay these guards enough to pay attention.’

Cosmo led them through a vaulted reception area lined with 3D photos of a long-dead Clarissa Frayne doing
noble things with youngsters. Hiking, reading, digging holes, among various other outdoor activities. There was nothing noble about the Frayne Institute. The authorities were more inclined to dip the no-sponsors in experimental vats than take them mountaineering.

They passed several guards, but no one questioned them. They were simply two more suits from some medical company. And anyway, who would possibly have a motive to break into an orphanage? Cosmo kept his eyes down and his collar up, hoping that people would think he was a short man and not a tall kid.

‘In here,’ said Cosmo, shouldering a flimsy plastic door hidden behind a statue of Clarissa Frayne. In this particular statue, the Institute’s founder was cradling an abandoned infant. Every orphan in the orphanage had heard stories about Miss Frayne. Apparently the woman had hated children and she was the one who had coined the term
no-sponsors.

The doorway opened on to a claustrophobic corridor, devoid of decoration and with only emergency lighting.

‘Charming,’ said Stefan.

‘You should see the dormitories.’

The corridor became colder as it sank below sea level. The emergency lights grew more and more ancient, until eventually their path was illuminated by wall-mounted coil bulbs.

‘Light bulbs,’ chuckled Stefan. ‘You don’t see those any more, except, maybe, outside a movie theatre.’

‘All the power is leeched from the main power lines. Clarissa Frayne have been doing it for as long as I can remember. For some reason, down here is the only place no-sponsors can go without being detected.’

Stefan nodded. ‘Of course. The energy leak would white out your scanner patterns.’

The corridor sank down and down, until finally they came to a dead end, flanked by two overflow pipes.

‘Back in the early days, when the city used to flood, these made sure the basement drained.’

‘And now?’

Cosmo hauled back a maintenance hatch. It opened surprisingly easily. ‘Now the orphans use them to hang out.’

Inside the pipe were several levels, constructed from cardboard and waste pig iron. Rickety ladders connected each level, descending further into the darkness.

Stefan tested a ladder with his weight. It collapsed beneath him.

‘I’m not twelve years old any more,’ he said, opening his jacket. Strapped to his chest was one of the vests that Ditto had stolen from lawyers on the roof of the Stromberg Building. He tore open the Velcro pad covering the abseiling kit and wrapped the cord around a solid handle.

Stefan slapped his own back. ‘OK, Cosmo. Climb on.’

Cosmo did as he was told. ‘Next time, promise me that we’ll use the stairs. Just for once.’

Stefan winked. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said, swinging down into the blackness of the pipe.

‘Maybe tonight is our lucky night,’ he said.

‘It’s about time.’

They disengaged from the abseiling cord, dropping to the floor with a thump. The pipe was almost entirely corroded, so they felt their way out on to a hard rock floor. Cosmo stubbed his toe against a thick cable. He dropped to his knees, tracing it back to a junction box.

‘I’ve got something here. A switch.’

‘Makes sense,’ said Stefan. ‘If the Clarissa Frayne people are stealing power, they would have to be able to see what they’re doing. Turn it on, Cosmo.’

Cosmo wrapped his fingers around the thick switch and pulled until he heard a sharp click. The cavern was instantly illuminated by a dozen halogen spotlights. They were in a vast tunnel, originally blasted by Satellite City’s sandhog crews almost a century ago to accommodate gas, water and electricity pipes. The hundred-metre-high power conduits had been stripped back to bare wire in
places and were feeding several small generators. A bass hum emanated from the naked wires.

The wires weren’t exactly naked. They were clothed in a luminous blue carpet. Sleeping Parasites. Millions of them. Each creature’s silver heart pulsed in time with the alternating current.

Stefan tightened his grip on the Energy Pulse.

‘This must be the place,’ he whispered.

Stefan placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Cosmo. We’re not dying or in pain. If we were, they’d be all over us. All we have to do is tread carefully, and there’s no reason for the Parasites to take any notice. Hell, we could sing an opera now and it wouldn’t wake them up. They don’t respond to sound, just pain.’

‘You’re sure about that? You have actual evidence?’

‘Not as such, no. But I feel it in my gut.’

Cosmo giggled with more than a touch of hysteria. ‘I’m feeling something in my gut too.’

‘All you have to do is stay here. I’ll plant the Energy Pulse, then we go out the way we came in. Two minutes. That’s it.’

Stefan walked carefully through the maze of piping and cable, stepping over sleeping Parasites as he went. His aim was to plant the Pulse as close to the heart of the group as he could, where it would do the most damage.
They could remote detonate it from the street, unleashing an electrical storm on the creatures. If Ellen Faustino’s theory was correct, the dirty energy should rip the hearts right out of the Parasites, but not affect the humans at all, so long as they weren’t too close to the blast.

Stefan climbed an ancient stepladder, gently wedging the attaché case beneath the main pipe’s lower curve. There were Parasites all around him, breathing, glowing, living.

He climbed down the ladder, turning to give Cosmo the thumbs up. He never completed the gesture, because Cosmo was not alone. A large man had him pinned by the neck from behind, with a shrink rod pressed into the skin of his cheek.

‘Hi,’ said the man. ‘Nice of you to drop in and plant a bomb under us all.’

Stefan was accustomed to acting under pressure. If it was just him and the stranger, he would go for his rod, but now somebody else’s life was in danger.

‘Do it,’ said the man, grinning. ‘Reach for your weapon and this kid will be sucking plastic faster than you can blink.’

‘Take it easy, Redwood,’ gasped Cosmo. ‘You don’t know what’s going on here.’

‘I know all right,’ said Redwood. ‘You’re trying to blow up the Institute and put me out of a job. Agnes would love that.’

Stefan took a slow step closer. ‘Redwood? I’ve heard
of you. You like to beat up children. You want to take a chance on someone your own size?’

Redwood laughed. ‘My own size? Kid, you’re half a foot taller than me. I’m not stupid. Just take out your weapon and slide it over.’

Stefan felt a bead of sweat slide down his backbone. They were safe from the creatures, unless someone got hurt, then the Parasites would awaken.

‘OK, Redwood, take it easy. Here’s my lightning rod.’

Stefan lifted his weapon from its holster with two fingers. He set the rod down, kicking it across the floor.

‘There, you see. I’m unarmed.’

‘And the detonator,’ ordered Redwood. ‘Don’t tell me you were going to blow yourself up with the building. You have a detonator there somewhere, so hand it over.’

Stefan ground his teeth in frustration. ‘Redwood, this is not what you think. Just listen for a minute…’

Redwood jammed the rod under Cosmo’s chin.
‘You
listen, moron. It’s simple enough. Give me the detonator or I wrap the boy, for starters.’

‘OK, OK. Here it comes.’

Stefan unbuttoned a flap on his suit trousers, drawing out a metal cylinder with a red button on top. The red button was protected by a plasti-glass cap. Idiotproof. No timer, just flick and press.

Stefan gave diplomacy one last shot. ‘Redwood…
Marshal Redwood. This is not a bomb. It’s an Energy Pulse. There are creatures all around us –’

‘Shut up!’ commanded Redwood, jamming the shrinkwrapper painfully into Cosmo’s neck. Painfully. Pain.

The Parasites began to sit up. Electricity was all very well, but if there was pain to be had…

‘Slide over the detonator now!’

A wave of Parasites popped up like dominoes in reverse, their soulful eyes searching for the source of the pain. A million eyes landed on Cosmo. A million and counting.

‘Redwood,’ stammered Cosmo. ‘We have to get out of here now. They’re coming.’

The Parasites sprang from their perches, advancing in waves across the rock floor. They ignored Stefan completely and focused on Cosmo.

Stefan flicked the detonator’s lid.

‘Let him go, Redwood, or we all go up.’

‘You’re bluffing!’ spat Redwood. ‘You won’t do it. You’re no fanatic.’

Stefan’s thumb hovered over the button. ‘You know something, you’re right. We’re not fanatics. In fact we’re really
grounded.’

The Parasites flowed around him, leaping over his head. Stefan was barely visible in a sea of blue.

Grounded?
thought Cosmo.
What does he mean?

Then he got it. Grounded, of course. Cosmo made sure his rubber-soled boots made solid contact with the
tunnel floor and closed his eyes. This was going to sting.

Stefan’s thumb settled on the button. ‘Last chance, Marshal. What are you going to do?’

The Parasites were inches from Cosmo’s neck.

‘I’m going to wrap the kid first, then you,’ said Redwood.

‘Wrong answer,’ said Stefan, and pressed the button.