A Subtle Agency Page 2

Cornelius Crane had offered her any reward that she may care to name, but she had declined the offer, as there was only one thing that she really wanted and it was beyond his ability to give.

  When the Interpretive Codex is provided to you, and you have all three of the artifacts of the Metaframe, what then my lord? What price will you pay for my continued service? You have bound me with magic so that I can never harm you, but for all your genius, knowledge, and wisdom, you fail to see that the binding may have a loophole - and you know nothing about this boy who is so dangerously like his grandfather.

  Chloe felt the car slow down and turn, in moments the limousine pulled to a halt. The street had ended in a quiet suburban court and she looked out at a pleasant, unremarkable, middle-class home. Relaxing her focus, she decelerated her mind and the world snapped back into motion. She smiled, after tonight, this peaceful street would never be the same again.

  Marcus stepped out of the car, dressed in a finely tailored pinstripe suit that fitted his tall, powerful frame perfectly. He moved quickly to open the car door for Chloe. She stepped from the car with feline grace, her body equally at home in a national ballet troupe or on a Victoria’s Secret catwalk. Smoothing her elegant black pants suit, she walked purposefully to the front door. Marcus fetched a long black case from the trunk of the car and followed a step behind her.

  The limousine driver drove the big car away, parking about fifty yards down the street.

  Chloe stood before the door and rang the doorbell.

  * * *

  “Because the peace of God is with them whose mind and soul are in harmony, who are free from desire and wrath, who know their own soul.”

  The doorbell rang.

  Anton put down the Sanskrit copy of the Bhagavad Gita that he was reading and looked at the clock - it was 8:30 pm. He considered ignoring the doorbell, he had spring semester exams starting in a week, and it was simpler to pretend that no one was home. He had completed studying for his first-year subjects, mathematics, ancient languages, and archaeology. He knew the material well and was confident of getting straight As.

  He was honest enough to admit that he was killing time with the Gita. The book belonged to his mother who had taught him the Sanskrit language before he was ten and he had caught her infectious passion for Indo-European Mythology. Anton expected his parents to come home in another one to two hours from their faculty dinner at Boston University. Then he could borrow the car and go out with his friends. It was Saturday night, he had turned eighteen two days before on the twenty sixth of April, it was time to celebrate.

  Picking up a mini-soft basketball, lounging back in his desk chair, he casually looped the ball through a small hoop on the other side of his bedroom. It sailed through the air and went straight through the middle of the hoop. Glancing back at his computer screen, the Hockey East League website was prominently displayed. The previous season had finished a couple of weeks ago, Boston University had lost by a single goal in the Championship game.

  We won every game all season - but not the one that mattered - how did that happen?

  The doorbell rang again.

  Rubbing his face with both hands he stood up, ‘this guy is persistent. I’m going to have to get rid of him.’

  He walked downstairs in his socks, wearing a simple gray, long sleeved BU Hockey T-shirt, and jeans that hid the rugged athleticism of his six feet one-inch frame. Anton arrived at the front door just as the doorbell rang for the third time.

  He opened the door; before him stood the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen in his life.

  She was tall, nearly the same height as Anton, brunette with vivid blue eyes, flawless complexion, wearing a professional black business pants suit with a short jacket, and a translucent scarlet silk chiffon shirt that displayed the round curves of her breasts within a stylish black bra.

  Just standing still, she was a seductive mix of poise, elegance, and class, with a face that demanded attention.

  OMG!

  She smiled at him, revealing perfect teeth framed by full, sensuous lips, she spoke with a polished English accent, ‘Mr. Slayne, please let me introduce myself, I am Chloe Armitage.’

  Slayne? ... What?

  ‘Hi, I’m Anton.’

  Chloe gestured toward the large man who stood a couple of steps behind her; Anton suddenly realized that there were two people on his doorstep.

  He was big, blond, hard and looked like high-class security.

  ‘This is my associate, Mr. Drake. We work for an organization with a strong interest in your family and I believe that we have some information that you will find quite fascinating,’ she said with a sliver of irony, as if she was quietly amused by something that she knew which Anton did not.

  Anton felt a sudden disappointment as he caught up on what the vision before him had said; they had the wrong man.

  ‘I’m sorry, my name is not Slayne. It’s Anton Smith. There must have been a mistake.’

  Arching an eyebrow, she said, ‘Mr. Slayne, Anton, if I may?’

  Anton nodded.

  ‘Anton, we have much to explain, perhaps you could invite us inside and we can clarify any confusion that may exist.’

  What have I got to lose?

  ‘Okay. Sure, please come in,’ Anton said, directing them to the lounge room, just off the main hall.

  Anton closed the front door, following them in; they were standing there waiting for him, they hadn’t assumed that they could just sit down. He was struck by how polite they were.

  Old school, very old school.

  ‘Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink?’ Anton said.

  Marcus shook his head, sitting down in a large single chair, and placing his long black case next to it.

  Chloe took a seat on a long lounge opposite a coffee table.

  Her blue eyes locking on his, she said with a charming smile, ‘a glass of water will be fine.’

  Anton fetched the water; clearly study was over for tonight.

  How often does a supermodel land on your front doorstep?

  He was puzzled by the last name mix up. She seemed certain that she knew something that he did not. Intrigued, he definitely wanted to know this woman better.

  After all, really? What on Earth have I got to lose here?

  Returning to the lounge room, Anton placed the glass of water on the coffee table.

  Chloe inclined her head slightly in a silent thank you but ignored the glass as Anton sat down in a chair opposite her.

  Chloe leaned forward, ‘Anton, as I said earlier, the organization I work for is very interested in your family.’

  ‘... Okay, who do you work for and what is your interest in us?’

  Chloe glanced at Marcus, ‘a card if you please.’

  Marcus opened the case, extracting a business card which he silently handed to Anton.

  ‘Thanks,’ Anton said, taking the card.

  It was black with gold letters and read, “R.I.S.C, Risk, Investigation, Security, Consultants. Chloe Armitage. Director, North American Operations.”

  That doesn’t tell me a lot.

  Anton put the business card down on the coffee table.

  Chloe said, ‘we deal with information, we connect the right people with the right information.’

  Spooks?

  A sliver of unease began to edge its way into his mind.

  ‘What do you want with my family?’

  ‘Anton, are you sure that you know who your family are?’

  What sort of question is that?

  ‘Of course, I do. I’m an only child living with my parents who are full professors of Archaeology, Ancient languages, and Indo-European Mythology at Boston University. We have lived here in Boston all my life. I have no cousins because my parents were only children and all my grandparents are dead. Accidents and sudden illnesses seem to follow my family, okay?’

  Chloe momentarily bit her bottom lip, looking straight into Anton’s eyes, she said ea
rnestly, ‘I can prove two things. One that your family name is Slayne, and two, that your paternal Grandfather Arthur Slayne is alive and well. Anton - people close to you have been keeping secrets - don’t you think that now that you are eighteen that you are old enough to know what those secrets are?’

  What is going on here? How did she know my age?

  ‘C’mon this is crazy. You can’t be serious - this has to be a joke, has someone put you up to this?’

  Chloe leaned back; steepling her fingers, she said calmly, ‘I assure you, Anton, I am deadly serious.’

  ‘Huh?’ Anton grunted.

  He didn’t want to believe it. She was either telling the truth or she was an extremely convincing liar.

  ‘Okay Anton, I can see that you are feeling uncomfortable, and that’s not what we are here for. I propose that I show you the evidence, and you can make up your own mind. I promise you, if you are not convinced, we will walk out that door, and you will never see us again. Now, what could be fairer than that?’

  Anton paused, there was an alarm that had begun ringing quietly at the back of his mind, a small red flashing light that whispered, danger.

  ‘Five minutes,’ Chloe continued, ‘I promise you,’ she swept her hand in the direction of the front door, ‘if you are not satisfied that we are telling the truth, we are out of here.’

  Anton hesitated.

  ‘So what is it going to be Anton? Take a risk and find out the truth, or play it safe and continue wondering what this meeting was all about for the rest of your life?’

  Anton found himself agreeing with her. She had made her point in such a reasonable way that rejecting the offer seemed stingy and cowardly. The alarm at the back of his mind was muted to silence.

  ‘Okay, show me what you’ve got.’

  Chloe glanced at Marcus.

  Reaching into his case he withdrew a dozen high quality color photographs which he handed to Chloe.

  She arranged them neatly, one at a time on the coffee table.

  ‘Anton, have you noticed how few photos your parents have of their marriage?’

  Anton frowned, it was true, his parents only had a handful of photos.

  ‘It’s because they were not allowed to keep photos like this one,’ she said as she put a photo on the table that was clearly his parents, ‘of William and Anna Slayne with your grandfather, on their wedding day.’

  No, William and Anna Smith ... or is it Slayne?

  Next to William was a fit, middle-aged man with a full head of wavy dark brown hair, strongly defined features, high cheekbones, strong chin, a sensual mouth and piercing blue eyes who was the spitting image of both William and Anton.

  He is a little shorter than Dad, more my height and build.

  Chloe tapped the photo with her finger, ‘the Slayne genes are strong in the male line, the three of you could easily pass for brothers.’

  Anton examined the picture carefully, it looked genuine.

  ‘Here are more photos from the wedding,’ Chloe indicated with an elegant sweep of her hand.

  Anton looked at the photos, they were crystal clear. His parents seemed completely at ease with the older man, hugging and kissing him, the man that Chloe had identified as his grandfather, Arthur Slayne.

  He had to admit as he picked up photo after photo, it all looked real.

  As he looked at the last of the photographs, Anton was struck by a profound sense of familiarity that he had met this man before. In a very old memory, he had been lifted up in strong arms and placed on his shoulders for a ride. He found himself tearing up and put the photo down.

  It was all real; blinking, he wiped a tear away with a trembling hand and took a deep breath.

  Chloe gestured toward the glass of water on the coffee table, ‘would you like a drink? I’m not that thirsty.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Anton took the glass of water and drank it.

  ‘There are also these recent photos,’ she said laying out a series of shots that had been taken quickly in a burst with a modern digital camera, there was a date-time stamp in the bottom corner of each photo.

  It was a street scene from two months ago; a festival where there were floats, sparkling costumes and crowds of people in a parade.

  In each photograph, there was a man who looked much like the man with his parents on their wedding day, except he wore a dark-brown fedora hat, his hair was longer and it had some visible gray in it, his shirt was cropped at the shoulders and open down the front. He looked lean and physically powerful as if he could run a marathon and then go fifteen rounds in a ring with a champion prize fighter. He had a long, slim, gently curved, black case in his left hand and he was staring fiercely at something across the street that was out of shot.

  Is that a sword he is carrying?

  ‘It’s the same guy,’ Anton exhaled, rubbing his hands through his thick wavy hair. ‘So, where was he?’

  ‘Rio, at the carnival in February this year, and clearly very much alive.’

  ‘Okay, my grandfather is still alive - so why don’t I know that?’

  ‘Anton, you and your family have been hidden with a lie for all of your life - for at least nineteen years.’

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ Anton said, shaking his head. ‘Why?’

  Chloe watched Anton closely and said, ‘because your grandfather is a murderer.’

  Anton stared at her.

  ‘Well, that is the official story,’ Chloe said, arching an eyebrow and making herself look delightful. ‘I personally think that he is innocent and was framed for a crime committed by another - but I lack proof.’

  Anton shook his head; the alarm at the back of his mind had begun ringing again, now joined by a sense that the real world was on the verge of melting away to be replaced by something else - something terrible.

  ‘Why do you think he is innocent?’

  ‘I have excellent professional reasons to study your grandfather. I probably know him better than anyone else in this world, and I can guarantee to you that it is not in his nature to be a murderer. He would consider it dishonorable.’

  Chloe paused for a long moment, her eyes looking into the distance as if she was immersed in an old memory.

  The look of remembrance on her youthful face made Anton momentarily shiver.

  ‘He is amongst the two or three best swordsmen alive,’ she continued in a quiet voice, ‘and I have a great respect for him – even admiration.’

  So it was a sword. She feels strongly about my grandfather?

  Chloe smiled, ‘he is, in a vernacular that you might easily understand,’ and Chloe air quoted with her fingers, ‘a bad-ass!’

  She smirked, seemingly amused by what she had just said.

  That was awkward. “Vernacular that you might easily understand.” She looks like she is about my age, but who speaks like that at eighteen or nineteen?

  Anton didn’t find it funny. A sliver of fear ran up his spine, jagging its way into the base of his brain.

  ‘Okay, my grandfather is alive, and my family and I are in hiding - so why are you here? It’s not such a great secret if you know about it.’

  With growing animation, Chloe said, ‘indeed Anton, that is very astute of you. I should not know about it, but I do. But you need not worry, I am on your side. The people who oppose your grandfather, who framed him for murder, and caused him to put you and your family into hiding - well, I despise them with a passion.’

  Chloe stood up, emphasizing her words by chopping her right hand into her left.

  She stared at him, her eyes fierce, ‘they have no honor, and I will tell you this, I will not rest until I see justice done.’

  She paused, her eyes softening, she leaned across the coffee table, her subtle perfume wafting over Anton. She smelled lovely. Gripping Anton’s hand with warm urgency, she gazed into his eyes, she was mesmerizing, Anton wanted to lean in and kiss her generous lips. She was so inviting, and yet, at the same time he felt that somewhere beneath the surface of her warm smile wer
e cold depths beyond imagination.

  Anton felt Chloe gently pull him closer and he felt a fathomless power just beneath her gentle touch.

  She leaned next to his ear, whispering, ‘Anton, justice must be done, and I am sure you will do great things in its name for you are a true son of justice.’

  Chloe let him go, sitting back on the couch, she looked up at the clock on the wall.

  ‘Anton, when do you expect your parents back from their faculty dinner?’

  Anton murmured without thinking, ‘a little after nine, maybe later.’

  Chloe turned to Marcus and said, ‘it’s time.’

  Hang on, I never mentioned that my parents were at a faculty dinner.

  Anton stared at Marcus as he flipped open his case, taking out a soft white cloth and a vial. He crushed the vial in his bare hand, the liquid contents spilling onto the cloth.

  Staring at Anton, Marcus grinned, ‘we can do this the hard way or the easy way, which will it be?’

  Anton’s mind raced.

  There’s no time to get help. Who is the bigger threat? Drake or Chloe? He looks strong, but is he fast? I know that I’m fast. Front door, back door - which is closer to a clear path? Go to the front door. Once I am out on the street, he won’t catch me. Who is she? Looks my age, dresses like a CEO for a fashion label and sounds like she’s a hundred - weird.

  Chloe looked at him calmly, and urged, ‘relax Anton, I can hear your heart racing from here. Look, I like you - I really want you to survive this. But unfortunately for your parents,’ she gently shook her head, ‘not so much.’

  Leaping backward over the chair, Anton sprinted toward the front door. The move put the lounge chair between himself and Marcus, Chloe was blocked by the coffee table. He got three steps before hands like steel traps landed on his shoulders. It was like running into an iron bar. His feet kept going, spinning up into the air and Marcus slammed him onto the floor. The breath went out of his lungs in a huge whoosh. He started to gasp; Marcus jammed the drugged cloth over his face and he reflexively inhaled the sickly sweet substance on it, a moment later, Anton’s whole world went dark.

  * * *

  William turned the Chevy Suburban into his local court, the car’s big headlights illuminating the garage door which opened automatically before him.