The Knowing: A thrilling horror fantasy Read online

  Dale and Steve shared a light bulb moment. “Mr Cute,” Steve mouthed.

  “Indeed,” Ms Jenkins said. “He was asked to be discreet and just observe, but he got carried away – ” she winked at Steve, “ – as did his wallet, regrettably.”

  “And the check?” Dale said, glancing back at their bags.

  Ms Jenkins looked momentarily puzzled. “Oh, you mean the hotel bill. It’s all taken care of. ‘On the house’, as you say back home.”

  Dale nodded appreciatively. “Thanks, Ms Jenkins. We’re much indebted.”

  Ms Jenkins inclined her head. “And us to you, Lieutenant. Dai might have suffered from hypothermia if we hadn’t found him in time.”

  “What about the major?” Steve asked.

  “Oh, Carruthers is a hypochondriac,” Ms Jenkins said. “He’s always going off sick with something psychosomatic.”

  Steve looked thoughtful. His summa cum laude brain was whirring. “But you can’t be sure, Ms Jenkins. We’ve had mass poisonings in the US. Take Amerithrax, for instance.”

  “That was just one disgruntled employee of the New York Post, Sergeant,” Ms Jenkins said.

  “Not exactly, ma’am. The real perp turned out to be a microbiologist working for the FBI. An inside job, in other words. And he’d managed to rope in other conspiracy theorists.”

  Ms Jenkins sighed. “You’re right, of course. It’s rarely a lone wolf these days. And it could be messy sorting it out.” She turned to Dale. “I don’t suppose you’ve received any more intelligence about the bottles?”

  Dale shook his head. “Sorry, not a peep. Just the red flag that something was wrong. So, is there anyone who has it in for MI5?”

  Ms Jenkins laughed throatily. “That’s a good one, Lieutenant. There are plenty of past employees who’d like to bring us down. And a 101 terrorism suspects, of course.”

  “Can I ask you something, Ms Jenkins?” Steve said.

  “Of course, Sergeant, as long as it’s not covered by the Official Secrets Act.”

  Steve glanced around the office. “You’re not just a PA, then?” he asked with a grin.

  Ms Jenkins shot him a smile. “I’m many things, Sergeant. PA one day, general dogsbody another day ... to be frank, titles get in the way. And with government cutbacks, we’re all essentially generic. Also, it’s easier just to be what I am.”

  That was Steve’s sentiment to a tee. “You mean, ‘M’?”

  Ms Jenkins raised both eyebrows. “Actually it’s ‘C’ and he’s the head of MI6, not MI5.”

  Steve shrugged. He didn’t appreciate being put in his place. “So, what’s the difference?”

  “Oh, we gave up licenses to kill ages ago.”

  “That sounds like an invitation to lawlessness,” Steve said.

  “There are higher laws, you know.” Ms Jenkins crossed her legs, abruptly ending that line of questioning. “Now, about the PM,” she said, fixing Dale in her sights. She swept her hair back behind her right ear. Dale noticed a tiny lens glinting in the light that he guessed was part of an ear cam. “You told the police officer there’d be an attempt on the PM’s life. That’s pretty specific. I’m not surprised they put you in cuffs.”

  Dale rubbed his wrists. “Yeah, I sorta gathered that,” he muttered.

  “He’s so good at opening his big mouth when butch men are around,” Steve said with a mischievous grin.

  “So, what did you expect me to do? Lie flat on my back and converse with the stars? Thanks for the support, dude,” Dale said.

  “You know what I mean ...” Steve said. He crossed his arms.

  “Okay, okay, gentlemen,” Ms Jenkins sighed, settling herself on the chair opposite. “It’s been difficult for both of you, but we still need to get to the bottom of the matter. When were you first aware that a situation was imminent, Lieutenant?”

  Dale checked his fingernails. He’d meant to cut them. They were getting on Steve’s nerves. “Before breakfast,” he said. “In the shower. There was a radio on and someone said the word ‘ten’. I knew I had to go to Downing Street.”

  “How?” Ms Jenkins bent forward, but she kept her hands to herself this time.

  “Ma Bell informed me.” It felt darn good announcing the name out aloud.

  “Ma Bell?” Ms Jenkins said. Her dark eyes widened, as if to ensnare his words.

  “It was Steve’s idea. He said to give it a name so that it’d feel less alien.” He heard Steve groan. “That’s how I receive my ‘knowing’.”

  “Oka ... y,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Dale said. “That’s what I call the information I get from the exchange inside my head. There was this preacher in bible class who used to answer every disbeliever by tapping their head with a tobacco-stained finger and saying, ‘That’s what the knowing is all about, boy, and don’t you forget it.’ Well, this is my knowing and there ain’t anything religious about it. That’s the God’s honest truth, ma’am.”

  Dale noticed Steve making a ‘stop – enough’ gesture with his right hand. Cute, but this is my fucking soapbox. Hot-diggity-damn, it felt good to be talking about it! But Steve was right. This wasn’t the Brain Lab. And I shouldn’t have said the word ‘alien’...

  “Of course, it’s all metaphorical,” Dale said.

  “And then?” Ms Jenkins seemed to have relaxed a bit.

  Dale scrunched up his face as he relived the experience. “I got slammed at the security gate.”

  Concern crossed Ms Jenkins’s face. “You mean you were assaulted?”

  “Jeez, no ma’am,” Dale spluttered. “I meant I got slammed – ”

  “Metaphorically?”

  “Yeah, just the usual pain in the nuts.” He looked down reflexively. It was getting to be a habit.

  “And that’s when you knew about the attempt on the PM?”

  Dale made a thumbs-up. “But that’s all I got, Ms Jenkins. No where or how, just the fact.” He paused as he remembered what went through his mind at the time. “Come to think of it, it was like receiving a single frame of a news bulletin but without any sound.”

  Ms Jenkins inclined her head. Dale noticed the ear cam lens glinting again. He wondered who else was watching his interrogation. “You mean a TV station?”

  Dale nodded.

  “And it was in English?”

  Dale couldn’t be sure. If there’d been no sound, how would he have known about an attempt? Perhaps there’d been a rolling headline in English underneath. He shrugged. “I guess so, ma’am.”

  “My God! So, the news report could go out at any minute and there’d be nothing we could do to stop it!”

  “Yea ...” Suddenly a fragment of an image popped into Dale’s head. He was certain he’d seen it before. It was blurry, as if the cameraman had been caught on the hop. Oh fuck, it’s happening all over again. Dale grasped his nuts with both hands, his cheeks turning beet red. “Sorry, sorry ...” he heard himself muttering. Steve stared at him wide-eyed, his mouth shucked open. And then the shot abruptly turned crystal clear: a photo of a car’s interior, the doors left wide open, objects discarded in haste on the floor.

  Dale pulled himself to his feet, grimacing as he went to the window. He rested his fingers on the glass. He detected a tingle, like touching a laptop plugged in to charge. The water in the Thames looked cold but strangely inviting. His dad had tried to foster an interest in fishing, but he’d never seen any point in torturing fish with barbed hooks. The Thames used to be too polluted for fish to survive, but now it was said to be good enough to drink. Vanishing beneath the surface would be difficult without weights tied around the ankles, but at least it’d taste clean.

  “Perhaps it’s a sign that we need to stop taking things for granted,” Dale said. He was still watching the river. A paddle boat carrying tourists passed by. He would have waved, but they wouldn’t have seen the window through the stealth screening.

  “Excuse me?” Ms Jenkins said. She stood up and moved to his side.

  “I mean the water.
We pollute the water and fishes die, then we clean it up and fishes live. Perhaps someone is trying to tell us that the water should have a say in the matter.”

  Ms Jenkins shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I’m still not getting it. You’re talking in riddles.”

  Dale turned to look directly at Ms Jenkins. “You need to get your people to check what was left behind in the limousine. The bottles of water, in particular. They’ll need full protective gear.”

  Ms Jenkins’s face dropped to the tips of her stiletto heels. “Christ, no!”

  Dale nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so, Ms Jenkins. He might want His share of divine retribution, too.”

  “Shit, Dale, that sure was a bolt out of the blue,” Steve said as they waited in MI5’s lobby with their bags by their feet. There was ten times more activity than when they’d entered. Bottles of water accumulated near the scanner, awaiting testing and disposal. “What I don’t get is why your source has become so obliging. Perhaps it was the sight of her legs that did it. Mind you, if you’d said anything more, she’d have slapped a ‘cease and desist’ order on you. What was it she added at the end? ‘Ignorance is bliss, Lieutenant.’ That’s an awesome comment coming from MI5. And to think, you were the one who told them where to find Dai. Jeez, there’s no satisfying some people.”

  Dale had only half listened to Steve jabbering on. He’d been wondering whether the UK government would jerk into law an outright ban on bottled water. Still, how would they tackle the bottles already out on London’s streets? And why just one per cent acid? It didn’t make sense. Perhaps the idea had been to instil fear rather than annihilate the population.

  He’d also been contemplating what might come after the flood of acid-tainted water; a plague of anthraxinfected insects sounded about right. Whichever way you looked at it, it sure wasn’t God that was behind it, even if He’d been the inspiration.

  “Actually, dude, it wasn’t Ma Bell that time. It was intuition,” Dale said.

  “Really?” Steve said. He looked impressed, but he’d been distracted by someone who’d just entered the lobby. The individual was a good-looking dude in his 20s and he was wearing a suit. His hair, still damp, was slicked back. Perhaps he’d been for an early-morning swim in the Thames. His face seemed strangely familiar.

  “Hey, guys, I hoped I’d find you before you left,” the stranger said. He extended a hand.

  Dale’s face recognition definitely wasn’t up to scratch. The operators on duty at Ma Bell remained on an extended coffee break. A smile hovered on Steve’s lips. The three of them shook hands politely as if they were meeting for the first time at some crime-fighters’ convention. And then the man’s voice struck a chord. It definitely didn’t sound Irish this time. In fact, the sing-song accent seemed more pronounced than Dale had remembered from before.

  “Jeez, Steve, it’s Dai Williams!” Dale said, wagging Dai’s hand like an old-fashioned gas pump handle.

  “Yeah, good to see you, too,” Dai said. He didn’t look convinced.

  Steve rolled his eyes. “Sorry. It’s been a difficult few days. Dale’s letting off steam. And he forgot your title.” He bowed dramatically. “Sir David, will you do us the honour of conversing with us mere mortals?”

  Dai grinned. “Apology accepted.” He placed a hand on Dale’s shoulder. “Look, thanks for letting them know where to find me. That’s quite a talent you have. What’s the secret?”

  Dale felt uncertain about explaining it to Dai. Hell, he might even try to use the hocus focus on him. “Stuff just arrives,” he said.

  Dai crooked an eyebrow. “Stuff ?”

  “As in stuff and nonsense,” Steve interrupted. “Sometimes it makes sense, but often it doesn’t. The theory is, it’s information about future events, collected by entangled particles, sent back to the present. I guess it sorta makes sense, but ...” His shrug gave away what he really thought.

  “Is that what Petros told you?” Dai asked.

  “Yeah, more or less,” Dale said, glancing at Steve. If Dr Kyriakides’s explanation had been a load of hooey, what the hell was left? he wondered. Weirdsville, Arizona, here I come ...

  “You know, we’d make a great duo,” Dai said with a grin. “Do you fancy setting up shop?”

  “What about me?” Steve huffed. “Dale promised I’d be Robin.”

  Dai puffed out his chest in true superhero fashion. He eyed Steve’s physique. “So, what exactly would you bring to the role, er, young pretender to the throne?”

  “Well, I’ve got the hair, the looks and I can do a mean exclamation.”

  “Such as?” Dale asked, intrigued by his boyfriend’s revelation.

  “Holy Priceless Collection of Etruscan Snoods!” Steve said in an imitation of Burt Ward’s voice. “And I can do the other 361, as listed on Wikipedia.”

  Dale started laughing and couldn’t stop. He was vaguely aware of the looks he got from people in the lobby, but he couldn’t give a shit. “Christ, I needed that,” Dale said finally, tears still running down his face.

  “Well, now we’ve got a Holy Water Shortage thanks to your detective work,” Dai said, glancing at the bottles. “Not to mention a nasty case of attempted mass poisoning.”

  Dale examined Dai’s face. It looked so friendly and open. He can’t have been carrying around a lifetime of emotional baggage. It must have taken guts to walk around in public with his home-made protection against EM radiation covering his face. Dale recalled Steve saying that Dai’s suit was ‘way too shiny’. Okay, the cloth did seem covered in a sheen of oil, but at least he looked like a professional spook.

  “I heard that Petros put you in the scanner,” Dai continued. “He knows better than to try that with me. It’s become something of a ritual for people visiting The Manor.”

  Dale felt his heart rate quickening. “Yeah ...” Nope, I’m not gonna revisit that horror, he decided. “So, what do you recall of your abduction?” he asked, rapidly changing the subject.

  Dai sneezed loudly. “Sorry, I woke up with grass in my face.” He reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a tissue. “Trouble is, it’s all so hazy. To be honest, I think it might have been a dream. I’d also had a bit too much to drink. I blame her for that.” He pointed at a portrait of the Queen hanging above the security scanner. She looked disapproving at being relegated to such an inauspicious position. Given that it was her government who’d consigned EM communication to the scrapheap, it seemed appropriate that ancient X-rays were left defending her realm.

  “You had drinks with Her Majesty the Queen?” Steve asked, all wide-eyed with admiration.

  “Yeah,” Dai said. “The dogs were there, too. She thought they had bugs in their ears.” He shook his head.

  “If you can’t remember anything, it could have been an alien abduction. Have you checked your teeth?” Steve said. He had a glint in his eye. Dale had seen the student paper Steve wrote on the Area 51 phenomenon, and he’d done a hatchet job on the evidence. His conclusion of ‘wishful thinking’ hadn’t gone down well with the UFO cognoscenti. And his psychology professor just happened to be an avid sky watcher.

  Dai looked uneasy. “Yeah, well, UFOs aren’t exactly flavour of the month around here. Medically, I’m fine, though. No holes in the teeth or that sort of thing.” He leaned closer. “To be honest, they’re more interested in other things flying through the sky, if you know what I mean.” Dai glanced anxiously around the lobby as if he expected to see ears on walls.

  “So, have you noticed any after effects – apart from the runny nose?” Steve asked.

  Dai tilted his head inquiringly. “It’s funny you should ask, but people have been saying I sound more Welsh. I’ve even been changing the way I speak. You know, muddling my words I am. See, I’ve just done it!”

  “Yup, that’s documented,” Steve said. “It’s the Yoda transformation. Also said to be associated with living at the top of an ivory tower with a MacBook for company.”

  “Do you wanna swipe him fir
st?” Dale said, turning to Dai. But his mind must have moved on to other things. He was checking his watch.

  “Look you, I must be going,” Dai said. “I’ll send an invitation to the wedding. Sandra is 34 weeks now, so it has to be soon. We’re waiting for her – ” he glanced up at the portrait, “ – to come back with some dates.”

  “The Queen?” Steve mouthed.

  Dai put a finger to his lips. “But you mustn’t say anything. She wants it kept a secret. There’ll be drinks afterwards. But definitely no Dubonnet and gin.”

  It was no limousine this time for Dale’s and Steve’s journey to London Heathrow: just a standard black cab with a dome-headed driver making up for his follicular loss with small talk. He had an unnerving habit of turning to look at the back seat when he should have been keeping an eye on the road. Dale was relieved to be sitting on a seat that was actually comfortable. He’d lost weight on the vacation and his ass needed the extra padding.

  “Terminal Three is it? Don’t you worry, I’ll get you there just as soon as. The traffic’s been somethin’ awful this morning. Don’t know why. Must be somethin’ in the water.”

  Dale hadn’t realised that London cab drivers were imbued with a sense of irony. The driver reached for a plastic bottle and took a generous swallow. Dale saw Steve lean forward as if he was about to say something, so he shook his head to stop any interruption. Having come this far, he was damned if their journey out of the UK was gonna be cut short by a few millilitres of one per cent hydrofluoric acid.

  “So, ’ow was it, then?” the driver asked with overfamiliarity. He wiped a hand across his mouth and belched. On balance, Dale thought that was a good sign, although his stomach could already be going up in smoke.

  “Our vacation, you mean?” Steve said. He was great at easing an imminent breakdown in communication.

  “Yeah. Go sight-seeing, did you?” the driver asked.

  “It was okay,” Steve said, but with a giveaway droop to the tone of his voice.

  “It wasn’t awesome, then? Don’t you Americans always say things are awesome?” the driver said.

  Dale and Steve exchanged a glance. “No,” they said simultaneously.