The Gemini Effect, page 24
In the time it had taken even to think this, their attacker had skirted the car and grabbed Hickey’s gun arm by the wrist before he could fire. Yanked it up so hard the limb popped out of its socket at the shoulder. The huge man dressed in black let the arm go and it flopped uselessly by Hickey’s side, the pistol dropping to the ground with a clatter. A backhander put a stop to Hickey’s cries, snapping his head sideways.
Gough tried to get his gun out with his other hand, but he was in a bad position. Better to just try and get away, crawl away – the only option open to him since his legs were shredded. Where the fuck was their backup? Maple was at the coffee place, sure. But her partner, Peters? Where the fuck was—
Then he saw it, the blood covering the windscreen of the car behind them. Obscuring his view of what had actually happened to poor Constable Peters, and for that Gough was grateful. It was about the only thing he could feel grateful for at the moment.
Now, he was hoping that Maple took her time. That there was a great big queue of people waiting to be served in that coffee place, because if she came back here…
She’d end up like the rest of them. As dead as—
Even as he was thinking this, Gough was aware of the giant behind him. Standing, towering over him. Bending over him.
“D-Don’t—” he began, but then he was being lifted up.
Way up, further than he was expecting. Up above the giant’s head. This person, The Gemini – it couldn’t be anyone else – was hefting him like he was lifting weights. Holding him there for a moment. Gough wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do with him next, just drop him on the ground again, shattering more bones? Before stamping on him?
No. That wasn’t it at all.
At the last moment Gough spotted them, the railings that bordered the park. The tall iron bars that came to a point at the top. They didn’t look that sharp, but if someone were to fall on them from enough of a height…
Say the height Gough was being thrown, up and over towards them. Had never been in a plane, but didn’t need one to fly now. He was flying, all right. Then falling. His weight carrying him downwards, down onto the spikes.
They punctured him in several places; he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Couldn’t lift himself off the railings, even if his hand hadn’t been mashed, his legs already torn to pieces.
All he could do was watch, as The Gemini made his way across the street.
Watch and do nothing, not that they could ever have done anything to stop that… that thing. Just watch, just wait.
Wait for the end to finally come.
He doesn’t usually kill aimlessly.
Not even for fun. Life is precious, it’s a waste to kill indiscriminately. It has to be useful, help to complete His mission. Serve a purpose. Not long now to wait, not long at all, then it will all be His. The power. Power over life and death. Such power!
All that stands in His way are these people. The police officers, the man He’s heading towards right now in the lobby of this building. Doesn’t like to kill, especially when they’re not twins – as none of these people are. He can tell, sense it.
It gives Him no satisfaction, but needs must. Explaining it wouldn’t help, that would take too long and they wouldn’t understand anyway. Most of them don’t even think He’s real.
This man ahead of Him probably doesn’t think He is either.
They believe in the killer, the man who did all this. But they don’t believe in what He is becoming.
What He will become. He’s waited so, so long.
Watched and waited. Not much longer now.
Almost there.
Almost there, the huge figure Bernie had just witnessed taking those officers apart was almost at the door.
He took out his phone. That was strange, it didn’t seem to be working. He could usually get a signal here, ring the authorities if there was trouble, not that he’d ever really had to. Once or twice when some thugs were loitering – they reminded him of himself at that age, to be fair. Thankfully they’d pissed off by the time the cops got there. Bernie had held up his phone, mouthing what he was doing, and it had been enough to scare them.
Wouldn’t do any good with this guy. Bernie wasn’t quite sure what would scare him. Maybe nothing. And as he looked up from tapping in 999 again, trying to summon backup, he realised the huge figure – no, call him what he was, The Gemini, the guy from years ago who’d been in the papers this week – was already inside the lobby.
He wasn’t quite sure how. Couldn’t see any damage to the doors, the glass hadn’t been broken and no sirens were going off. No alarms. Must have broken the locks, though, somehow. Must have—
The figure was massive. Even bigger the closer he came. Like one of those American wrestlers or something, the ones that spend all that time in the gym pumping iron. Larger than that, perhaps. Solid with it. Bernie wasn’t exactly small, but at the side of this bloke…
“Now, you stay back. I’ve called for the police and they’re on their way.”
The man shook his head, and there was something wrong with that head, wasn’t there? Something wrong with his face. Faces, plural.
Because he had two of them.
“Fuck,” breathed Bernie. But he had a job to do, protecting these nice people in here. Had to step up. Noble by name… “I’m warning you, the police will be here any second.”
“No they won’t,” the huge man said in a kind of stereo voice, the words coming out of two mouths at once.
“They—”
The man moved forwards, so fast Bernie didn’t even see him do it, same as with the doors. That didn’t stop the security guard throwing a punch – might land lucky, you never knew. And he certainly didn’t care about being sued this time. Bernie’s fist connected with the man’s torso, and it was like he was punching a breezeblock. Did more damage to his own knuckles than to his opponent; what he wouldn’t give for a machine-gun right about now. Or even a knife or a smashed bottle.
The Gemini smirked.
Bernie pulled out his baton, struck his opponent. He’d seen guys almost as big as this go down when they were whacked with one of those. This bloke didn’t go down. What happened was the baton broke in two.
“They’re coming, I’m telling you!” screamed Bernie. An empty threat, he hadn’t been able to get through. “The—”
“Police! Don’t move! Stay where you are!” Nobody was more surprised than Bernie at that. As if by just willing them to appear, the cops had arrived. His backup had arrived. Comrades in arms.
When The Gemini turned, standing to one side, Bernie saw who this actually was. One lone police officer, a woman. She looked like she’d been crying.
“I said don’t move, you motherfucker!” she roared at him. One woman, on her own.
But she had a gun drawn, had a bead on their enemy. He’d done it himself, usually in some desert in a faraway land. “Do it!” he shouted. “Shoot him now, before—”
He didn’t need to worry, she was already pulling the trigger. Already firing, the slugs pumping out through the barrel accompanied by tiny flashes of fire. Didn’t matter how fast this fellow was, he couldn’t outrun a fucking bullet. Wasn’t fucking Superm—
That wasn’t his intention, though. The Gemini was just standing there and letting the bullets hit him. The hero Bernie had been thinking about was also known for letting them bounce off him, a bit like that punch had. Instead, what happened here was the bullets disappeared. They hit him all right, just didn’t do anything.
Kevlar under all that black clothing, had to be! A bullet-proof vest. Or maybe his clothes were lined with it, like that assassin with the beard who seemed pretty indestructible himself. Which meant the cop needed to go for a headshot to down him.
Too late. The Gemini was on her, slapping the gun from her hand, slapping her back out through the doorway and into the street.
Bernie peered past him. The woman wasn’t moving. So much for the backup, the comrades in arms. It was down to him now. This was what it had all been building towards, his purpose. He made for the pistol, getting down on his belly and sliding across the shiny floor.
The Gemini rounded, saw what he was doing. Began to race towards Bernie.
Almost there, almost… His fingers were touching the handle, he was scooping it up. The Gemini was above him, swooping in. And suddenly Bernie had the gun in his hand.
Had his finger on the trigger. The Gemini’s head in his sights. He was Roy Scheider now and the real urban shark was tearing towards him. Coming at him. Smile you son of a—
Bernard pulled the trigger and fired.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“He’s coming!”
The scream echoed throughout the apartment, probably louder than it should be because it was coming from two places at once. James and Jack, who’d been playing their game – so wrapped up in it, they’d hardly twitched when Deborah had departed. It was amazing how quickly they’d settled into life here, Rosy thought. But then kids were adaptable.
Just a couple of weeks ago, they’d had their ordinary life by the sea. Living with their mum, going to school, putting up with their big sister teasing them, she was willing to bet. Then, since her visit, since Rosy had talked Deborah into coming back to Norchester – and was there a part of her that was wishing now she hadn’t? knowing that it had been the point when things had gone to hell in a handbasket? – they’d been shoved from pillar to post. First staying with their gran, then ferried here to the city. More adaptable than Rosy could ever be.
Or wanted to be?
She’d agreed to all this, ’course she had. Was happy to, she loved those twins to bits. The chance to spend some time with them was always welcome. Fun Aunty Rosy! Plus, as Glover had said, it might help save lives, give them a heads up about any potential Gemini activity – something Deborah had been keeping from them, it appeared, that connection. Keeping from her and Glover anyway; she’d since discovered that Clark knew, which had rankled. Crystallised just how far apart they were growing, her and Debs. How little trust there was these days.
And Kiz had been delighted, as Rosy knew she would be. A little too delighted, for Rosy’s liking. Saw it as a chance for them to experience life as a ‘family’, with children around. Had gone out and bought all that stuff! There was no high ground about the new car now, not since Kiz’d gone so overboard (different league, Rosy, different league).
“It’ll be good practice,” she’d told Rosy.
Wasn’t something she particularly wanted to practice, though, because she still wasn’t sure she wanted kids of her own. Liked her life as it was. For Rosy, this was just about being in the right place at the right time to facilitate a solution. That scientist’s brain of hers coming to the logical conclusion once again, the only conclusion. But it had definitely given Kiz ideas.
Had led to words between them. Not the ideal time or place to talk about such things, to row about them – especially with Deborah in the next room, and especially as she could tell those two had already been discussing it – but they were used to being on their own, talking about things whenever they wanted to (another advantage, to Rosy’s mind). Used to not having to keep their voices down, either. She’d been accused of being selfish, but if she was that then she’d never have offered up their flat in the first place.
“Not about that,” Kiz had said. “About the idea of having kids in general.”
There was nothing to say to that, because it was probably true. They just wanted different things from life, moving forwards. Or were at different points in their life. One or the other. They’d let it be eventually, agreed to talk about it again when all this was over, when Deborah wasn’t around all the time. But the spectre of it hung over them. The spectre of a possible break-up.
When really they should have been worrying about a very different kind of spectre altogether. The reason those kids were in the apartment in the first place.
“He’s coming!” the twins cried in unison again, both children breathing quickly – so fast Rosy thought they were going to pass out. Was even looking around for a paper bag or something, because this had the definite makings of a panic attack.
“W-Where’s Mum?” This was… she wanted to say Jack, but it was so hard to tell them apart.
Kiz was doing her best, instinctively going to them and rubbing their shoulders – one hand on each of the boys. Ever the mother in the making. “She’s just popped out, remember?”
“Muuum!” bellowed… James, Rosy thought it was. Kiz looked over her shoulder at Rosy, and all she could muster was a shrug. Logic wasn’t going to do a damned thing here.
“What’s… what is it?”
“He’s coming!” they both shrieked again. “The bad man!”
“This is it, isn’t it?” Fleming had joined Rosy, watching the performance. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.” Up till now she probably hadn’t even believed in all this, a connection: the woman seemed far too pragmatic for that. But it was hard to ignore the evidence, hard to block out the fact those twins were seeing something. Fleming brought out her phone, tapping away on the screen. “Come on, come on!” Then to Kiz, as if she was some kind of translator, as if the kids weren’t just a few feet away from the DS herself: “See if you can find out where he is, where he’s going to be.”
Kiz looked a bit confused, not quite sure what was being asked of her. But then neither Rosy nor Deborah had really gone into any detail about why the twins were here. She knew they needed to be somewhere safe, somewhere close to their mother. Trying to explain some kind of psychic link between them and the killer might have been a bridge too far.
“Ask them!” snapped Fleming, which just made the kids cry all the more. “Ask them what they can see!”
“Boys… Boys, what is it? What’s the matter?” Kiz said in a soothing voice, still not fully grasping what was happening here.
“He’s coming!” they just kept repeating. “He’s coming, he’s coming. He’s coming!”
“Dammit, I can’t get through to Glover,” grumbled Fleming. “He’s not answering.”
“T-The man with the gun,” said one of the twins, Jack or James, Rosy didn’t have a clue by this point. “He tried to…”
“But…” said the other one, taking over. “But he couldn’t…”
“Man with the…” Something clicked. They had to be talking about the officers downstairs, one of them anyway. Someone who’d tried to stop The Gemini. “Fleming,” she said, clutching the woman’s arm. “Fleming, I think we need to get out of here.”
“What? Oh blast, the phone’s dead. I can’t get a—”
“Right now!” It was Rosy’s turn to snap, but the woman was still looking at her blankly. “We need to leave, right now!” Wrong place, definitely at the wrong time!
“It’s not the dead you have to worry about…” Or was it?
“Wh—” the DS began, but was cut off by a knocking sound. A loud thumping.
Coming from the front door.
“He’s here!” the twins hollered now, spittle flying from their mouths. “The bad man… He’s—”
And that’s when things really went to hell.
“Pull… pull over!”
Deborah was clutching her head, then clutching the dashboard of the car. They hadn’t even made it across town, certainly hadn’t made it to The Imperial. And they wouldn’t now, because, “Something’s wrong, Robbie. Something’s…”
“Deborah? Debs?”
“Pull… over, I… ‘He’s coming!’ Oh my God, oh my God! ‘He’s coming!’” She could hear parts of what she was saying, the parts that weren’t really her speaking. That she was channelling from somewhere else.
“What? Who?”
Through clenched teeth she managed: “‘The… bad… bad man.’”
“What?”
She was vaguely aware of Clark looking around for somewhere to do as she’d asked, to pull over. But the traffic was awful tonight, it was hard to find a gap. “What are you talking about, Debs?”
“‘He’s coming,’” she said again.
“The Gemini? He’s coming for us?”
She tried to shake her head, but it hurt too much. This made those headaches she’d had after the fall seem mild by comparison. And her vision was swimming, blurred. Instead of the road, the lights of the cars – reds and yellows all blurring into one – she was seeing something else entirely. Channelling sights as well as sounds.
Seeing:
He bursts in – “He’s here!” – smashing the door to pieces. Fleming approaches, having given up trying to reach Glover. Her gun’s drawn, but it doesn’t faze Him. The huge man… thing… with two faces. He doesn’t even pause, simply disarms her, grabs her by the neck and lifts. There’s a cracking sound as He flicks His wrist sideways, snapping that neck. Fleming’s eyes go wide, her tongue lolls out of her mouth like a panting Labrador.
Rosy looks around for something to use as a weapon and fails miserably. She resorts to throwing things at the giant: a cup, a book. That’s not going to stop Him. She’s an annoyance at best, something to be charged out of the way like a rugby player tackling a defender to score a try. Rosy goes flying over the sofa, rolls away out of sight.
Which leaves the prize. The reason He’s here, what He’s come here for. The boys, the people she’s seeing this through. Seeing through their eyes, but as one. It’s a weird sensation, and she wonders if it is anything like what Jack – her Jack, dead Jack – experienced when he witnessed the—
No, please God. No…
Not the boys. Not Jack, not James. He will only want one of them, she knows that. Somebody help them, please.
And somebody does. Someone tries, at least. Kiz stands between Him and the twins. She’s shaking, terrified. Little wonder, because the mass of blackness in front of her is a good few feet taller than her – and she’s tall. Tall for a woman.
