Warning; entrance; betrayal
The tenement is a darker slab against the mud-coloured sky. The lawn and the road in front are a single plane a'snow, crisscrossed and dotted with boot imprints and trails where kids have rolled the snow inta balls. The fruit a'their labours, five white, vaguely man-shaped figures standin in a rough circle beneath a lonely pine, regard the space in front a'them with mute attention. The one in the middle, the tallest by a head, has a glove shoved inta its hollow mouth, as if he'd been gagged.
"Come on," says Ward. "Let's get this over with."
Irbe hefts a heavy-lookin sports bag over his shoulder and we start out. I think again about askin what it is he's got in there, but don't feel like havin ta listen ta any more a'their evasive bullshit; if I'm not supposed ta know what they're planning then that's the way it is. Not that it's hard ta guess: J had these boys pegged nights ago, and if by goin with them now I've crossed from bein a drug dealer ta a terrorist, the fact is I never had a choice, all of which sounds good in principle, but just try explainin that ta a cop. The intricacies a'fate are typically lost on those boys.
I pull open the side door and hold it open for the others. The hallway is empty, but I can hear the sound a'shoutin comin from an apartment at the far end. The air smells a'overcooked cabbage and wet carpet. The four a'us walk the short distance ta the boiler room, where Ward clears his throat, and spits onta the mould-spotted concrete.
"You're sure Auld?" he asks.
Auld stares at him. His eyes are heavy and there's a sallow, unhealthy cast ta his skin. He looks about ready ta collapse.
"I already told you," he says. Irbe shifts the bag nervously on his shoulder. Whatever this is about, it has nothin ta do with me; I leave them ta it and I move behind the boiler and through the tunnel. One by one they trail after me. Irbe and Ward switch on their flashlights; after the blind dark a'the tunnel the light is sharp and stingin. I blink, my eyes strugglin ta adjust, and notice R leanin against the far wall.
"Who the fuck is that?" asks Ward.
"What are you doin here R?" I say.
Irbe looks from R ta me, and then back ta Auld.
"They're with you aren't they?" R murmurs, glancin around the room as if he might be able ta see them.
"They're here."
"Tell them it's over," he says.
"They can hear you just fine R. Why are you here?"
"I'm tryin ta help you."
"Help me?"
"The Institute knows you're comin C."
"Oh?"
"I told them."
"Did you now?"
"You don't know them C, these agents. You think you do but you don't."
"Go home."
"He warned them?" asks Ward. Irbe steps forward, clenchin his fists, and I move ta stand between him and R, who has no idea that any a'this is takin place.
"Wait," I say, ta both the outsiders. "Just wait."
"Auld, you couldn't see this coming?" Ward asks, but Auld doesn't respond. He's starin at his feet, at the pool a'white light shinin on the floor and the dust covered rock. I move closer ta R, watchin his thin lips curl inta the semblance of a smile.
"How'd you know about this R?" I ask him.
"I followed you," he says. "Saw you come inta the buildin last week. After you were gone I checked the stairs and found the tunnel."
"You did all that huh?"
He shrugs.
"Wasn't hard."
"You been tailin me the whole time then?"
He ignores me.
"I called the agents an hour ago. Told them you were comin. They'll be here soon."
"Here?"
"Not here. Further on. They're waitin for you."
I smooth my hands over the front a'my jeans, tryin ta keep myself from slappin him.
"Saw a way ta make some money and you took it," I say, noddin. "I get that. That's your style. What I don't get is why you're tellin me about it."
"I thought I could make it right," he says. "Ta make up for before."
"Shut your fuckin mouth." I nearly bite the words, and watch as R flinches. A soft click causes me ta turn around; Irbe is standin with a gun trained at the middle a'R's chest.
"Shit," I mutter.
"What is it?" R asks.
"Step away C," Irbe says.
"Put that down," I tell him.
"Irbe," says Ward, feebly raisin a hand.
"Get out of the way," Irbe says again.
"What's goin on?" R stammers.
"Shut the fuck up R."
Ward glances at Auld, lookin for instruction, but Auld doesn't seem ta be aware a'any a'this; it's like he's been drugged, swayin on his feet and blinkin dully.
"Irbe," Ward tries, his voice comin in a tight whisper. "Why do you have a gun? None of us were supposed to have guns."
"I told him to bring it," Auld announces, his eyes still lowered.
"Why?" I ask him. Irbe glances from R ta Auld and back again. R is starin at me curiously.
"What's happenin?" he asks.
"You've got a gun pointed at your chest."
His smile wavers for a second, dies.
"Really?"
"Irbe," says Auld, pressin a hand ta the left side a'his head, as if he's in pain. "Put the gun away."
"Why?"
"Because none of this is necessary."
Irbe frowns, his brow tightenin, but he doesn't lower the gun.
"You see me putting the gun away Auld? Is that it?"
"Doesn't matter what I see."
"Then what the fuck are we here for?" Irbe shouts at him. The gun is tremblin in his hand. "Why'd you tell me to bring the fucking thing if it wasn't for this?"
"It wasn't for this," says Auld, and the moment seems ta lengthen, stretchin ta a taught line; at length Irbe lowers the gun. Ward barks a short laugh.
"R get the fuck out a'here," I say.
"One of them has a gun?" he asks stupidly.
"Just go."
I move around him and exit the chamber. Behind me, R lets out a brief gasp a'pain; I turn in time ta see Ward cuff him across the side a'the head and Irbe kickin the legs out from under him. R coughs, rubbin his face, and the three outsiders start after me. I pause long enough ta watch R pull himself ta his feet. He brushes the dirt from his knees, and walks off, not botherin ta look back. I wait until he starts down the hole, and then hurry ta catch up ta the others.
"They know we're comin," I say.
"Yes," answers Auld.
"But that doesn't matter does it?"
"No."
"They were always goin ta know."
"That's right."
"So we go on?"
He nods, and a sudden wave a'anxiety washes the back a'my throat; I swallow, drivin it back down, and carry on. There was only one way this was ever goin ta play out, and who am I ta question? There's a cord wrapped around my neck, pullin me on. The only consolation is I'm pretty sure it's about ta run out.
Beside me, Irbe is mutterin ta himself, runnin his hand over the back a'his head. I let him pass, and then the rest a'them, focusin on the sound a'my own boots until we reach the pit. Lookin up, I expect ta find the two agents flanked by cops or private security, but the chamber is empty; the plastic containers and the bank a'computers stand like art objects in the harsh glare a'the floodlights. Behind it all is the faint roar a'water at the base a'the pit.
"Give me the gun," says Auld, quietly. "They're going to arrive from the far side, two of them. I'll wait for them there."
Irbe is about ta protest when Auld cuts him off.
"You're going to ask why I wanted you to carry the thing if I'm the one who's supposed to use it."
Irbe nods.
"But you already know why."
"Because it had to happen," Irbe answers, like a kid recitin a lesson at school, and I realize that all the time I've known them, I've never once seen Irbe or Ward make a prediction a'their own.
"What's the matter?" I ask him. "Can't
you see it yourself?"
He sneers at me, and moves off. Ward watches him go, an odd, confused look on his face.
"And me?" I ask. Auld shrugs.
"Just remember what I told you," he says, turnin. He crosses the chamber with the gun held lightly in his hand, as if it was a toy. Ward frowns, bitin down on his lower lip. The line cuttin his face is a deep, inky purple.
"You stay close to me," he says at last, and I'm reminded a'what Auld said, that this boy is not ta be trusted; without a word, I leave Ward where he is and cross the short distance ta the computers. Irbe has the bag on the ground beside him, and as I approach he takes out a small object wrapped in a length a'cloth.
"You mind tellin me what you've got in there?" I ask. "I think we're past the point a'keepin secrets."
Rather than answerin, he uncovers the cloth and exposes a compact blastin cap, the kind used ta set charges in the deep tunnels. He places it by the nearest computer, and removes another from the bag, and then a third, as well as a length a'wire. The line a'his shoulders is stiff with tension, and his fingers work nervously; whatever he did before crossin over, it's obvious that he's no expert, and watchin an amateur fumble with explosives is more than I can take. I step back: Ward is not far from the pit, and Auld is nowhere ta be seen. Standin by the far door are the two agents, both a'them grippin tasers. The taller one smiles.
"What have we here?" he says.
Irbe stands up, clutchin a small, black box. He holds it up where the agents can see it.
"You know what this is?" he asks them.
"It's a detonator," the smaller agent responds. "Got a death wish or something?"
"Do you?" Irbe's voice is high, and tinged with panic.
"Drop your tasers," comes a voice; Auld moves out from behind a low outcroppin a'rock, the gun in his hand. They agents regard him blankly, but they do as they're told, and first the small one and then his partner sets their tasers down at their feet.
"Against the wall," Auld instructs them. Ward takes a step, and then all at once he slams a fist inta the side a'Auld's head, sendin him sprawlin backward, and the gun clatterin ta the floor. Quietly, the smaller agent stoops ta pick it up.
Irbe is just before me as the shot is fired; he falls ta the ground, screamin, and loses his hold on the detonator. He presses his hand ta his shoulder, blood seepin from the wound.
"Ward!" he shouts. I crawl over ta him; he shudders through a long breath, and gasps, his lips parted from his teeth. He doesn't look at me, maybe doesn't even know I'm here.
The detonator lies a few feet away. I lunge for it, but stop as two black shadows fall across my path.
"Don't move," the smaller agent tells me; he holds the gun an inch from my face. The taller man laughs.
Ward appears from around the computers.
"We're done here yeah?" he says. I look back at Irbe, who's got his eyes shut, breathin in and out in little ragged bursts. The hand at his shoulder and his forearm is slick with blood.
"We?" asks one a'the agents.
"I brought them here didn't I?" Ward offers.
"Or they brought you. It turns out your services weren't required. One of our other informants came through just as well."
"Yeah, met him earlier. You know, he sold you out as fast as he did his friends. Warned us you'd be here waiting."
"Scandalous," says the taller agent.
"So you set us up Ward?" I manage ta ask. Casually, the taller agent bats me across the mouth with the gun. I spit, tastin blood. Ward doesn't look at me. The taller agent is grinnin.
"Look happy Ward," he says. "You'll still get your reward."
"The Institute pays its debts," the smaller agent adds.
Ward glances between them, lost.
"Once we get the gate open you'll be the first one through," says the taller man.
"That wasn't what we agreed."
"You wanted to go home. This is your only ticket."
"Wait " Ward is about to say something further, but the shorter man cuts him off.
"There's something else here," he says.
"Yes," says the taller agent, turnin. "There is."