Читать книгу Song Of The Wolf - Hannah Pole - Страница 12

Alison woke with a start, the image of Dax’s strikingly well-defined face still in her mind. He looked so tired; his dark grey eyes looked almost black and were ringed with dark shadows. His black hair was long and straggly, like he hadn’t washed or brushed it for a while, and he had more stubble on his chin than she’d ever seen him with. His chest was still broad and muscled but she could see his ribs, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in a while. Worry snaked its way into her gut but she pushed it away. It was only a dream, right?

Even so, for the first time in weeks she woke with a smile.

The coldness sank in, her body groaning in response as she moved.

She ached from head to toe, her bones frozen, her body battered. She could barely feel her fingers any more. This cold was unbearable, especially without the warmth of her wolf. The oh so familiar heat at her core that represented the other half of her soul had disappeared leaving her empty and alone.

Alison cursed her luck, cursed it to the fiery depths of the Under Realm. She’d been captured by the Circle months ago, tortured and bound. Tamriel had rescued her but Maker only knew that she hadn’t felt safe since she’d been at home with her pack. She knew they would come for her and she had been right.

They had come for her. They’d taken her away and rebound her with the new High Lord’s magic. She shuddered at the memory.

The stench of the cell they kept her in wafted through her senses, making her gag. Thankfully her stomach had stopped growling; maybe it had finally realised they were only going to feed her the bare minimum.

You need to get above ground.

Dax’s voice reverberated through her. She was fairly certain that it was just a strange dream, yet she was grateful for it.

She’d been here for weeks, hoping, wishing that someone would come and rescue her. It had never occurred to her that perhaps they might not be able to read the GPS chip in the back of her neck because she was underground.

She smiled at her subconscious logic! Mayhap it was the memory of Dax that sparked that knowledge.

Though it was just a creation of her mind, that short moment with the image of him gave her new-found hope. Fresh determination.

She was at breaking point, on the verge of giving up on life. Now though she had something to work towards. Now she had a plan to create.

Now… She looked forward to her next encounter with the two tombs that guarded her rather than feared it, because she knew exactly what to do.

Alison sat on the mattress, listening intently for sign of any tuhrned coming to collect her. They’d gotten sloppy over time, and that would be their downfall. There were no windows in her cell and only one door that was heavy and locked.

Nearly there, she thought. She’d been picking apart the stitching on the mattress for a good hour or so, and finally it was giving way to a small hole, just big enough to get her fingers through. She paused again, listening to the noises around her.

She could hear her guards talking, laughing. There was the chink of glass on a table, and someone was shuffling something? Paper?

She assumed they were playing cards.

They really had gotten sloppy in the last week or so, maybe because she’d visibly given up fighting them. Now they weren’t twitchy and prepared to fight her when they came to give her food, water or…something else.

She internally cringed, as the memories hit her again.

She shoved them aside as best she could. They were drunk most of the time. They had grown used to her passiveness, her not being able to fight them because she was on the verge of starvation and death.

She was an easy target.

Or so they thought.

As the final stitch she’d been working on with her fingernail came free, she grinned, an expression that felt alien to her features these days. She dipped her cold, bony fingers through the small hole she’d created and pulled out some of the stuffing from the mattress. She kept pulling it free until her fingers brushed against the very thing she was looking for – the spring.

It took a good few minutes of tugging and teasing the wire before the spring came free but it did eventually.

She held the wire up in front of her.

The room was pitch black. They were so deep underground there was no natural light whatsoever, and the heavy door to her cell didn’t have a single crack in it, so no light seeped through there either.

She’d been kept in this fucking cell for so long now that her eyes had grown used to the darkness; her night vision had steadily increased, even though the rest of her body had begun to fail. As a result, as she held the curled bouncy bit of wire in front of her, she could see it clearly. This was exactly what she needed.

It took her a few minutes to get a second piece out of the mattress and she tugged a long piece of thread from the material too. She had to hide the wire somewhere they wouldn’t think to look.

She had thought of slipping it into her jeans pocket, but she doubted she’d have time to get it out once they arrived. Her clothes didn’t seem to last long when those sick bastards where around.

Carefully she braided her long mane of blonde hair. Even tied as it was it still fell to her hips. She used the piece of thread she’d pulled from the mattress to tie the end of the braid, keeping it in place, then carefully slid the two pieces of wire into the middle of the plait. It should hide them, just long enough for her to get out of her cell anyway.

Alison knew they would come soon. They usually visited her once a day to ‘wash’ and feed her. She dreaded their presence. Knowing what they were going to do made her skin crawl and bile rise into her throat.

She had spent most of her time in this horrible place trying to avoid them but nothing had worked so far. The High Lord had thankfully stopped coming of late; the Magi had visited her once a day, taken her down to a room somewhere beneath her cell, the same room where he had bound her. Bile rose at the thought, fresh tears stinging her eyes, but she violently shoved them aside. That memory was something she was going to push into the deepest depths of her mind and never think of, never speak of.

She knew he wouldn’t be coming to day; he had been so angry on his last visit, as he had been every time he’d come. He’d cut her so many times with various ritual knives, made her bleed on that stone and chanted so many different spells as he did and nothing had ever worked.

Maker only knew she had no idea what he was trying to do, but every time whatever it was hadn’t worked, he’d taken it out on her.

He’d stopped coming a few days ago, and that in itself was one small mercy. She only had these two brutes to deal with currently.

And though she had spent her days and nights dreading their visits, now she looked forward to it. Now she had a plan.

Alison sat in silence on the mattress waiting for them.

As she contemplated what she planned to do, she couldn’t help the stab of fear that hit her in the gut. She was not like Tamriel and Sapphire, she was not a strong female who could fight and hold her own in battle.

She hadn’t been trained for it. Alison had been trained to be a good mate and to bear children. Nevertheless, her spirit was strong, new-found hope fuelling her.

Adrenaline was a wonderful thing. As she waited, her body pumped with the stuff, making her heart race and her mind hum with a strange combination of dread and excitement.

She could do this. She had to.

Hours passed until finally the muffled voices in the room beyond became louder. They were coming to get her.

Fear slammed into her chest making her struggle to breathe. Tears prickled at her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Yes these bastards abused her, hurt her. Raped her. She was absolutely terrified of them.

But she had a plan this time. She knew what she had to do.

“Wake up, little wolf,” the tomb hissed from the other side of the door.

Alison physically recoiled at the sound of his voice, panic surging to the surface. She violently shoved it away. Now was not the time.

There was a loud clink that seemed to shake the walls of her cell; she’d come to know that sound as the lock being opened.

She held her breath, her whole body trembling in fear of what was to come.

“Little wolf…” the bastard breathed as he slid his body through the door. Alison sat, motionless, fear freezing her in place as he sauntered across the room. Light flooded through the open doorway, making her squint against the brightness.

As he neared Alison, the stench of death and rot hit her nose. She absently brought her hand to her throat, her cold bones shaking uncontrollably.

As her fingers brushed her long hair, the image of that bit of wire shot into her mind, bringing with it fresh determination. Adrenaline surged but she pushed it away. Though welcome, she needed to make them believe she was as terrified and weak as ever.

“Please, leave me alone!” she squeaked, scuttling back on the mattress, out of his reach.

“That’s not a nice thing to say to your lover is it?” he spat, so close to her now that little bits of spittle hit her face. His breath stank of whisky, and his movements were sluggish. He no doubt had been drinking all day.

As his cold hands came in search of her, she couldn’t help but swallow the scream that rose. Those hands had hurt and abused her so often it had almost wiped away any memory of a life without fear. Almost.

His touch was like ice as he gripped her, his sausage-like fingers wrapping around her fragile, bony arms as he violently pulled her forward.

Alison jerked away from his touch, scrambling further backwards on the mattress as far as she could get from him, and a squeak of terror escaped her lips.

“Don’t be a bitch,” he growled at her, leaning forward on wobbly legs and wrapping his hands around her hair. He put all his strength into ripping her forward, dragging her by her long hair. Tears stung her eyes as she lost her balance and fell forward. The tomb didn’t stop, he just continued dragging her, as she scrambled, bare-footed on the concrete floor, trying to get up.

She obviously was moving too slowly for him because he bent down and gripped her throat hard enough to bruise.

Hefting her to her feet, he spun her around and marched her out of the cell by her neck.

Alison was openly trembling, fear reverberating through her every fibre as he forced her out of her cell, past the door held open by the second tomb. Now she was out she could try and execute her plan of escape.

She knew they were too difficult to fight when they were together, Maker only knew she’d tried. No, she needed to take them out one by one.

And there was only one time when they weren’t together. Bile rose at the thought but it was the only time she had a chance in hell of taking them down.

Alison could feel the fragile skin of her neck bruising underneath his heavy touch; not that it really mattered, her body was littered with cuts and bruises anyway but that was nothing compared to the fact that she was, in truth, a tuhrned herself.

The former High Lord had kidnapped her, and technically almost killed her in the process of binding her soul. Her body was destined to rot and die though her soul lived on.

Knowing she was technically a tomb as well didn’t make these two brutes any less…disgusting. Her body was still relatively unmarred by the rotting hands of time, she’d only been in this state for little more than a few months, whereas these two were clearly long-lived tombs, she would hazard a guess that they had been tuhrned decades ago.

The tomb’s thinning brown hair hung loose from the top of his almost completely bald head, his skin so pale it seemed to glow an eerie blue. His companion was no less disgusting, though his hair had fared much better, the black waves hanging limply in long strands. They both looked like their bodies had given up on life. Though they were broad and muscular, they both had an almost bloated look to them, their bodies fighting the decay trying to overtake them.

Their skin was as cold as hers, though they didn’t seem to notice the temperature as much as she did. She suspected this had something to do with the fact that their nerves were so far into the rotting stages that they didn’t feel much any more which would probably explain why they were so vicious when they were ‘with’ her.

The hallway they were leading her down was as grim as her cell, the brick walls damp and slimy, the floor stained with mould and grime. The one thing they did have that she didn’t was light, bare bulbs on spindly-looking cables hung periodically from the ceiling, running the length of the small section of the building. They were dim and flickered but any light was better than none. There wasn’t far to go, as far as she could gather there really wasn’t much here. Behind her was a hatch that led downwards, further into the bowels of the building. Fear rose anew as she thought of that hatch, of the room, hidden beneath it. The High Lord had tortured her there so often, even the thought of that place made her skin crawl. Alison desperately tried to focus on what was to come, rather than what had been. Opposite her cell was another room that the two tombs spent all their time in. At the end of the hallway was a small bathroom and a door that led to places unknown. That door was her goal, it was her way out.

She was sure of it.

The tomb thrust her forward, making her graze her foot against the concrete beneath. Tears stung her eyes though she pressed onwards, allowing the brute to lead her through another doorway into the bathroom. He shoved her inside, by the back of her neck, making her stumble as he barked orders at the second tomb.

Alison slipped into the shower, leaning against the cool tiles, telling the fear riding her gut to calm down.

Slowly, she slid her fingers into her hair and pulled one of the two wires out of the plait, wrapping it around her knuckles lightly, and leaving the two sharp ends of the wire poking up from between her fingers. She then began tugging the second wire downwards, only an inch, just enough that it was poking out of the edge of her braid.

The tomb slammed the door so hard she heard the wood crack and splinter. He spun on his heel and stalked towards Alison. His breathing was heavy with lust, his eyes focused on her. His movements were laboured, unpredictable.

He didn’t bother talking to her, he just lunged. In a heartbeat he was on her, his huge cold fist wrapped tightly around her throat as he slammed her against the tiled wall of the shower. Panic surged, sending adrenaline rushing through her veins as she thrashed against him, fought to breathe, fought to gain control.

He pressed his palm harder against her throat, making her see stars, choking against him. Not that he seemed to notice, his attention was on her chest. Fumbling with his left hand, he tried to tear what was left of the thin material of her T-shirt away.

It was too difficult to do with his other hand wrapped around her neck so he quickly changed track, dropping her to the floor and spinning her around so quickly it made her stomach churn. The bastard kicked her legs from beneath her with a heavy-booted foot, forcing her to land on her knees, the movement jarring her back and bruising her shins. He shoved her forward so brutally she smashed her face into the tiled wall. Her nose shattered, sending blood cascading down from the wound, dripping onto the floor.

The tomb roared as the scent of blood hit him; he made quick work of shredding the flimsy cloth that covered her, and then bared his fangs. Hissing. Alison cursed the High Lord to hell. He was a vampire-born Magi and his ‘gift’ to his minions was ‘turning’ them into vampires, ‘gifting’ them eternal life as a reward for their service.

Alison didn’t have time to breathe, let alone move, as he lunged for her, sinking his thick fangs brutally into her shoulder. The sharp teeth punctured her skin with ease, sinking through what little flesh she had left and hitting bone. She thrashed against him, trying to dislodge him but to no avail. He pulled her back against him, crushing her throat with his hand. She could feel his erection pressed against her. Fear turned this bastard on.

“I’m going to fuck you while I drink you,” he spat, her blood dripping from his mouth. He reached forward and ripped apart the top of her jeans, sending the button flying. He wasn’t gentle; his nails tore her skin making her bleed. Tears filled her eyes, making her vision blurry, but she hastily blinked them away. She needed to be able to see if she was going to get this right.

The bastard grabbed her by the shoulders, hefting her up onto her feet as he stood, violently shoving her jeans down. She knew what he was going to do. She had been with this bastard many times; he forced himself on her daily. He liked to see the fear in her eyes as he took her, liked to watch her scream. And that was going to be what would kill him.

Adrenaline surged through her anew as he moved her, forcing her to step out of her jeans.

Now was the time.

“I’m going to take you until I break you in half, wolf. Then I’m going to bleed you dry,” he hissed. His breath smelled like death and whisky, whispering past her shoulder as he spoke. Alison didn’t say anything. Just waited.

He was going to turn her around in a minute, and she needed the strength of him spinning her to hit him hard enough to knock him out. She didn’t have the upper body strength on her own. She’d been starved for weeks and her strength was at an all-time low.

He pressed himself against Alison’s back, his vile body cold against her skin. The tomb ran a heavy hand down her chest, brushing against her breasts, then further down. It was all she could do not to throw up.

Finally impatience got the better of him; he threw all his weight into spinning her around to face him. Alison tensed her arm, her fist with the wire wrapped around it poised and ready. She used the force he put into spinning her to fuel her own strength, and as their eyes met, she slammed her fist as hard as she could into his throat. The points of the wire sinking deeply into his flesh, he didn’t have time to scream as she ripped her fist sideways with all the strength she could muster, tearing flesh as she went. His severed jugular spurted a wall of blood, covering her. She choked and gagged, jumping out of the way as he fell forward, his features now forever frozen in a state of surprise.

Tears fell freely as Alison made quick work of wrapping the second piece of wire around his neck and pulling it towards her, the wire cut into her hands, leaving deep lacerations in its wake, but it was worth it. The wire cut swiftly through his flesh, though she had to stamp on the bone to break it.

You had to completely sever the head to stop the Circle taking over the body, forcing it to live on even in death.

When finally it was done, she collapsed against the tiled wall of the shower, exhausted. She was shaking so badly she could barely keep her teeth from chattering. She’d actually done it. Relief washed through her.

Though it was too soon to celebrate; she still had the second brute to deal with and Maker knows how many more on the other side of that door, but the first hurdle was over. That sick bastard, the tomb who had violated and beaten her in more ways than she wanted to remember, was finally dead.

Those hands couldn’t hurt anyone any more.

Taking a deep breath, Alison pulled herself together; it wouldn’t take long for the second brute to come in for his turn. The scent of blood hung thickly in the air, and a ‘turned’ vampire had no morals or control. The High Lord was a Magi, a magical being who was also born vampire. This is why he was so powerful, because he had the ability to create an army of un-dead. Alison frowned. He gave vampires a bad name. Maker, the actual vampire community were strictly born only. They never ‘made’ vamps unless the circumstances were extreme. And though they were a dangerous, deadly bunch, they would never do what that bastard, the High Lord, had done.

Shaking herself, Alison turned on the shower, using the scalding hot but blessedly clean water to wash her face and hands. She pulled her jeans back on and tied the ragged bits of material that made up her T-shirt around her chest. It didn’t look good but at least it covered her. Mostly.

Leaving the water running, she quickly patted the dead tomb down; he had nothing on him but his knives. Not even a damn mobile phone.

She took the knives and left him where he’d landed. Sure, she could take his jacket, it would give her some much needed warmth; but she couldn’t stand the idea of anything of him touching her, not even a jacket. His scent would be all over it and even that seemed like hell to her.

Carefully, Alison stepped behind the door to the bathroom, bracing herself against the wall. Waiting for brute number two to make his entrance. It didn’t take long. These sick bastards were definitely without patience.

“Come on!” the black-haired tomb thundered from the other side of the door. “You’ve been in there forever. It’s my goddamn turn now.” She heard his hand land on the door handle.

“I’m damn well coming in. You better have washed her. I don’t want your stink all over her when it’s my turn.” His voice reverberated through the room as the door began to open…

“OI!” he shouted, opening the door fully, “I said…”

His sentence got cut short as he stepped into the bathroom, the door swinging closed behind him. “What the –”

Alison didn’t wait for him to finish, just leapt at him from behind, sending the tip of his companion’s knife straight into the back of his neck. The guy didn’t stand a chance; he fell forward, his body hitting the floor with a heavy crack. She’d killed him instantly, the second the knife had hit his spine. She repeated the process of cutting through his neck so his head was completely severed before scrambling back against the wall, choking down air as she did.

Adrenaline was still pulsing through her even as tears fell. She broke down sobbing in fear and terror. She was so stupidly lucky he hadn’t turned around. She hadn’t had the strength to fight him; she’d used up the very last of it lunging at him. Her body felt so weak she doubted she’d be able to stand.

And now she was a killer. She’d never taken a life before. And now she looked down on the two men that had taken their last breath because of her, she felt sick. Life was precious, something not to be wasted. And she’d taken it away from them.

The worst part of it was that she didn’t feel anything. There was no guilt, no regret, just nothing. These tombs had deserved to die, they had made her life a living hell and she had no doubt there were many females prior to her who had suffered the same abuse she had and perhaps had not come away from it alive.

Back in his ‘den’ as the others liked to call it, Dax was frantically performing search after search. The Internet was a wonderful thing these days; it gave unlimited access to the world’s secrets if you knew where to look. The sun was out and shining brightly, he’d been at this all night. It had been about five in the morning when he’d finally got home and the Djinn had gone straight to bed. He revelled in the warmth of the sun’s rays shining through his glass house. Though the entire building was built with bullet-proof reflective glass, some of the rays still seeped through and lit the entire house up. He was sat in his large leather chair at his desk, staring at his huge computer screen – which was, in truth, a floor-to-ceiling glass panel that had a graphics board hardwired into the glass, so not only could he see through it and watch the land behind but he could also bring images up on it. Not even the government had technology this advanced. Perks of being part of the council’s structure.

There was a loud digital ping as his phone went off next to him. He grabbed it, and hit ‘answer’ as he shoved it against his face.

“Speak,” he barked into the receiver.

“Dax, its Tam.” Her husky tones filled his ears.

“What have you got?”

“OK, I’ve been out to the beach where Alison was taken. You’re right, there was a boat that had been pulled ashore several weeks ago. There is still an imprint in the sand from the bottom of it, though it’s been so battered by the sea we can’t tell much from it.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he snapped, probably a little more harshly than he should have. It wasn’t her fault Alison had been taken. And to Tamriel’s credit, she was up and working on the case at five in the morning, as soon as Dax had texted her. She was one of the hardest working, most driven females he’d ever come across.

“Cool it, Dax, don’t be an arsehole,” she snapped back at him. He heard her shush Leyth who was growling in the background. Mated males could be ridiculously protective and Leyth was no exception.

“Sorry. I’m just –”

“Yeah yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” she snorted, cutting him off. “Anyway,” she continued, “after I’d been down to the beach I got on the net and I’ve been rooting through the Navy’s database.”

“Ah, you really think the Navy is going to be involved?”

“Hell no, but they do sell off equipment that has been discontinued.”

“And?”

“And about six months ago they sold an ex-miniature submarine to an unknown bidder. They are nicknamed ‘midget submarines’ because they weigh less than 150 tonnes, can be manned by as little as two people and have no on-board accommodation.”

“So we think the Circle bought it?”

“Well, we’ve been looking into local harbour auctions too. They have sold over twenty boats in the last six months to an ‘unknown’ bidder too.”

“How do we know they are related?”

“Here is where it gets interesting. The submarine and the boats were all sold to an unknown bidder but they’re never untraceable, there are always accounts that the payments need to come from.”

“Not if they do it in cash.” She made a strange ‘ahh’ noise, making her sound like a teacher whose student had just got the right answer.

“True, however large payments like that don’t go unnoticed in bank accounts, the exact cash sum of each purchase was drawn out of the same bank account on the same day the purchase was made. From a bank not ten minutes away from the auction, the payment came from the account of one…” There was a shuffling noise as she shifted through what sounded like a load of paperwork; she’d obviously been researching this for hours.

“Jason Smith. Who is a high-flying investor for the fishing trade.”

“And he’s linked to the Circle how?”

“He’s not. But we went to question him an hour ago at his home in Whitstable. We’ve only just got back.”

“And…?”

“And we found him dead in his living room.”

“Crap. So no leads.”

“Dax, he’s been dead for a long while, we reckon about five months. He was well into the rotting stages when we got there, and there are no fingerprints at the scene but get this: the last thing he actually purchased and signed for himself was a disused oilrig off the coast of England but we haven’t found where exactly yet. It has been redundant for decades, apparently it was built on unreliable intelligence and when they found nothing, it was just left to rust. It’s little more than a pile of scrap that goes unnoticed these days. So why would he buy it?”

“Because someone forced him to.”

“That’s what we think. He is co-owner with a partner that is using a false name on the deeds, there’s a paper trail so vast that it’s nigh on impossible to trace it back to whoever it is. But we also know that this ‘partner’ is the co-owner of every single one of those boats and that submarine.”

“It’s got to be worth chasing up.”

“Definitely. There are some old dockyards in Chatham that Leyth and I are planning on investigating. That’s where the submarine was auctioned off. It might give us some useful leads, and if not we can see if anyone went with Mr Smith on the security camera footage. You want to come?”

“Count me in, I’ll get my stuff together, leave in ten?”

“Sure thing, we’re just going to go and brief Julian.”

Finally they had a lead that might work. Tamriel made a good private investigator; she and Carl had the right idea with their new firm. Dax was well educated and a frigging genius with technology and hacking but he would never have thought of a submarine, even now the idea seemed ridiculous. But hell, the Circle were everywhere, it made sense that they would take to the seas as well.

Dax hastily typed the name ‘Jason Smith’ into his computer’s search programme and then ran a separate search for redundant oilrigs on the coast of England and left his computer running. It would ping the results to his phone if it found anything anyway. Shoving his thick bomber jacket on and checking his knives and Glock were present, he stalked out of his house, clicking the alarm sensors on as he walked back to the mansion.

Tamriel and Leyth were already out front loading up Leyth’s beat-up old Range Rover and Julian was outside with them barking orders into his phone.

“I don’t give a crap how much it costs, Saph,” he was shouting as Dax came within hearing range, “we’re gonna need a boat, charge it to your pack credit card!”

He paused for a minute, presumably listening to her talking before adding, “Fine, just make sure it’s a subtle boat, nothing ‘spanky’, and make sure it’s fast. But big enough for all of us to get on.”

He spun on his heel and marched around the side of the car, hefting his huge muscular body into the passenger seat, muttering something about Sapphire wanting to buy a ‘damned pink boat’ and slammed the door.

“Dax!” Tam shouted as he approached them. “You ready?”

“Yup,” he grunted, sliding himself into the back seat of the car.

“Cool, let’s get moving,” Leyth growled, starting the engine as he slammed his door.

“We’ve got a meeting with the auctioneer first,” Tam explained, sliding into the back seat next to him. “They have given us permission to do a thorough search of the dockyard but we have to be subtle because it’s open to the public today.”

She bent down to pull something from one of the bags she had at her feet, shoving a plastic container onto his lap.

“Eat.”

“Not hungry,” he grumbled.

“Don’t care. Eat.” She grinned at him. Damn that female could be a pain in the arse, but he did as she asked anyway. It was just easier not to argue. Cracking the lid on the Tupperware container he found four thick beef sandwiches sat there neatly stacked up; protein and lots of it. He bit them down quickly, barely tasting the meat as it hit his tongue. His stomach reluctantly accepted the sustenance.

It took about an hour in total to get them down to Chatham’s Historic Dockyard. The drive was tedious. Dax found himself drifting in and out of sleep; a belly full of beef would do that to a wolf. Maybe Julian was right. He really should get some proper sleep soon.

As Leyth pulled the car up to the main entrance to the dockyard, Tamriel leaned out of her window and explained who she was, showing them her new private investigator’s licence and ID card. The guards let them straight through and directed them to the car park, explaining how to find the main office.

“Dax, you and Leyth go take a look around, see if you can find anything while Tamriel and I go talk to this auctioneer and look at the CCTV footage, cool?”

Everyone nodded in agreement as Leyth pulled the car into a parking bay. He helped his female out of the car, and landed one hell of a kiss on her lips, leaving her a little flushed as she walked away with Julian.

“Come on, man, where do you want to start?” Leyth nodded at Dax.

“Not sure, let’s find an area map.”

It didn’t take long for them to find one of those huge boards with the ‘you are HERE’ arrows on it. The dockyard they were in was huge. There was a museum and a large boat you could walk around. There were also rope-making warehouses and some privately owned warehouses too, as well as a small café and several car parks.

“OK, they hold the auctions in the museum most of the time. It would make sense to hold this one there too as they were selling off boats, the museum is near the water.” Dax glanced that way; it was indeed close to the water, yet not close enough. There was a replica of the ‘midget submarine’ on display, and little else.

“I need to look at their private rentals information, we need to know who else is renting space here.” Dax started walking towards the café.

“They’re not going to let you see those documents, that’s private for a reason!”

“They don’t need to let me.”

Leyth snorted as he waked over to the counter to order some coffee as Dax plonked his arse into one of the spindly plastic chairs. Damn thing felt like it was going to bend and break under his weight.

Tugging his laptop out of his bag, he set it on the table in front of him and turned it on. It scanned his fingerprint on the mouse pad and allowed him access. A message popped up notifying him that the search he’d started at home was still in progress. No surprise there!

Hitting the Wi-Fi on he scanned the area, quickly finding the dockyards network. It was of course password protected but hell, like that mattered. He clicked the little cursor onto his encryption software icon and set it into motion. The software in question was something he’d designed years ago; it was pretty basic, but that’s all it needed to be. It ran through the millions of number and letter password sequences in a matter of seconds, leaving no digital ‘fingerprint’ in its wake. As it briefly touched the network, it deleted all trace of itself as soon as it had made it. As the word ‘accepted’ finally flashed up on the screen, the programme made a note of the password and stored it in the depths of its hard drive for later use if ever needed. Now he was logged on to the network, he opened up another of his own software programmes; he’d called it ‘The Eraser’ because that’s exactly what it was.

As Dax quickly stalked his way through the dockyards database, ‘The Eraser’ deleted any record of his IP address, any evidence that someone had accessed the network or anything in it. Simple.

It took only minutes before he was rifling through the documents stored on the computers in the ‘property’ department. Finally he found a list of tenants, their names, contact details and a company description. Dax of course made a copy of the information, storing it on his computer and pinging it across to his home desktop as well.

There were several different companies. Mainly they had something to do with fishing or boats. There was quite a large events company that had rented two of the larger warehouse spaces and an office, though they checked out after his thorough background search.

“Anything?” Leyth grunted, pulling him out of his little technology bubble.

“Nah, everything checks out.”

“What now then?”

“Well, I guess we should take a look around.”

In minutes the two of them were up and walking away from the little café towards one of the warehouses. The large wooden and brick structure towered over them as they came to it. The two huge wooden doors looked big enough to cater to a giant. The interior of the warehouse was beautiful, heavy wooden floors and large windows. The air was tinted with the distinct scent of metalwork and rubber, which made sense, it was absolutely brimming with the latest in technology.

Dax let out an impressed whistle as he stalked through the doors into the warehouse.

“’Allo? Can I help you?” A beasty-looking bloke sauntered over; he was huge, easily matching Dax and Leyth for size, though he was most definitely human.

“We’re with Chambers private investigators and we’re doing a check on the dockyard, have you noticed anything unusual lately?”

“Unusual how?” A slightly smaller brunette man swaggered over to his huge companion.

“We’re looking into the sale of some boats at the auction a few weeks ago.”

“You mean that submarine that got sold?”

“Yeah, what can you tell us about it?”

“Well, it got sold didn’t it?” The big man looked down at his friend, then yelled over his shoulder, “OI, BOYS, anyone know anything about that submarine that got sold the other week?”

There was a collection of ‘nah’s’ in return.

“Sorry mate, can’t help you. We’re pretty busy preparing for our next job anyway so we’re gonna crack on if it’s all the same to you.”

“No worries.” Leyth nodded at him, turning to leave.

“Wait –” Another man with long wavy blond hair stepped from behind one of the huge shelves dominating the room. “It wasn’t docked here, they sold it but it was shipped out from somewhere else – Will?!”

‘Will’, the man in question, stepped out from behind the large rack of shelving. He was smaller than the blond with messy hair and baggy trousers.

“What?”

“Where did that submarine get shipped from?”

“Uh, there’s a little dock in town, it’s tiny, big enough for maybe one car to tow one boat. Probably there.” He grunted, nodding at Leyth. “Mate, you are huge.”

“Thanks.” Leyth nodded back. “And thanks for your help, boys.”

As the two of them left, the beasty man stalked back to the kettle and continued with the tea he was making. Dax could have sworn he was singing Whitney Houston as he did so. What a sight that made.

Dax made quick work of texting Tam to let her know what was doing, and she hit him back instantly, letting them know they were reviewing CCTV footage, and to ping her the address when they found it.

With that they went on a small harbour hunt. Google maps showed only one likely option; it was quite literally a gap between buildings that led to the river running through Chatham. It was tiny on the map yet when they arrived at the spot there was nothing but shops and houses.

“Are you sure this is it?”

“Yup. Our GPS dot is literally on top of it.”

“Well, crap. Looks like it lied,” Leyth snorted, eyeing the building in front of them. It was fairly nondescript, brick walls and a wooden door. The windows had heavy curtains behind them and that was it. The walls were covered in the soot and grime of age and they looked as though they had stood there for decades.

Dax swore in frustration leaning against the building, cursing again as his shoulder came away covered in black.

The wall had smudged where his shoulder had been, the dirt coming away easily. The brick underneath was bright red.

“Now why would a building be covered in oil?” Leyth said, running a finger across the cement holding the bricks in place. That too was clean as a whistle once the oil came off.

“To give the impression of age?” Dax grinned, eyeing the door.

“Why would anyone want a house to look old and grimy?”

“Only if they didn’t want anyone to notice it.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Leyth glanced over at Dax, who eyed the street they were on. There were no CCTV cameras, it was a fairly old street, and most of the buildings looked deserted, the shops empty.

“Do it,” Dax barked. Leyth didn’t wait a heartbeat and in one swift movement sent a heavy kick at the wooden door, smashing the lock and sending the thing splintering open.

Only then did all hell break loose.