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Chapter Twenty Eight

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Two men enter

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Big Barry's cheek was denting the formica of the table in the interview room. Gene kept up the pressure, standing above him, his hand spanning Barry's neck and jaw. The adage, 'the bigger they come the harder they fall' was proving true in Barry's case. Johnson was looking decidedly uncomfortable but wisely kept quiet on the human rights issue.

'You've been most helpful.' Gene told Barry, 'See how much easier things can be when you co-operate?'

'Errgh.' Barry tried to lift his head but Gene held him down.

'Seems even scum like you has a conscience after all.' Gene continued, 'It's just a shame it didn't surface earlier, before people died.' he took his hand from Barry's slightly greasy neck and looked at it with distaste.

Barry's head came up.

'I didn't say you could lift your head.' Gene said, 'Back on the table.'

'Fuck off.' Barry's voice had a tremor in it.

'On the table.' Gene lifted his hand.

Barry dropped his head back to the formica submissively.

Gene strode across the room. 'Wait a couple of minutes and if he keeps his head down like a good boy, you can take him back to the cells. If he doesn't keep him in here until he does as he's told.'

'Guv' nodded Johnson.

Gene went back to his office to get his coat.

Alex followed him in. 'Did he talk?'

'Course he talked.' Gene said, 'You stay here.'

'No' Alex replied, 'I'm coming with you.'

'No you're not.' he said.

'Yes I am.' Alex positioned herself in front of the door. 'We're a team, not just when it suits you, all the time.'

He stood over her threateningly, 'You're not coming Bolls. You're not well. Less then an hour ago you were flopping about all over the place, what if you start making friends with his carpet tiles?'

'I won't' she pushed into him, her arms going under his coat, 'Please Gene.' she squeezed him.

'Stop it!' he ordered. 'Your womanly wiles aren't working, you'll be safer here.'

'No!' she sounded terrified, 'You're not going alone. You can't.'

'This is between the two of us- him and me.' Gene said more gently, 'Our history. Just do as you're bloody told for once.'

'I can't' she said, 'I have to come, what if it's a trick, the aging thing? He could have a whole army of thugs waiting to leap on you and take you down… downstairs, you'd be gone and I'd never see you again.' her voice was getting higher as she spoke.

'You're acting like a bloody drama queen.' he shook his head, 'It's not going to happen that way.'

'I'm coming too.' Alex said, holding on tightly. 'I can't lose you again, I just can't. If he gets you, he gets me too.'

'You talk such utter shit sometimes.' he looked down at her, 'Ok, unclamp then, you can drive.'

'Really?' she looked shocked.

'Yeah, I hate that bloody Merc and you're crap at directions.' he said.

Ten minutes later they were driving down a heavily littered back street.

'Are you sure this is right?' Alex looked doubtful, 'Funny place for a police station, they're usually fairly prominent.'

'It's not a real station though is it?' Gene said snappily, sliding down in the passenger seat and studying the piece of paper that he'd scribbled Big Barry's directions on.

'I suppose not.' Alex said, glancing at him, she thought of adding, 'Anymore then Fenchurch East is.' but decided against it.

'Here we go.' Gene said as the building came into view.

'It looks a bit like….' Alex felt her stomach turn over.

'…. Fenchurch East.' Gene said curtly, 'Always said he had the imagination of a frozen maggot. Park out of sight, further down there; ruddy hell Bolls, you're not driving a tank.'

The road had narrowed considerably and Alex was cautiously trying to manoeuvre the bulky car to the end of it.

'Don't worry if you scrape it.' Gene said, 'Looks like a zebra already with all the scratches, bloody heap.'

'You miss the Quattro don't you?' Alex said softly, scraping against a lamppost as her attention lapsed onto Gene.

'Well, it was nippy, handled well, as responsive as a hungry hooker, this thing takes about a year to react- go down here.' Gene pointed to a couple of parking spaces, 'Aw, just park it any old how. Right! You stay here.' he checked his gun.

'Please let me come with you.' Alex begged.

He looked at her, 'I have- and I've decided this as far as you go. I need you out here in case he is up to his tricks. If I'm not back with Jimbo in twenty minutes radio the station and get the whole of CID down here and storm the building.'

'Ok.' Alex agreed. She leaned towards him.

He kissed her forcefully and she tasted the fear he couldn't quite hide.

'Twenty minutes' she said when they broke apart, 'be careful.'

'If you come in alone I'll kill you.' his forefinger stroked her cheek.

'I promise I won't.' she said. 'I know you don't want me to say it but I love you.'

Gene nodded, 'You're right, I didn't want you to say it.' his eyes drooped, 'Quite fond of you too.'

She watched him walking purposefully towards the building. When he had disappeared from sight she started up the Merc and with difficulty turned it round in case they needed to make a fast getaway. She checked the time, almost four o'clock, a chill ran through her, she felt achy and flu like and wondered why. More than anything she wanted to follow Gene, but forced herself to wait.

Gene was surprised, not to mention suspicious to find the front doors unlocked. Did this mean Keats was expecting him? His hand didn't leave his gun as he quickly checked over the deserted front desk. As he ventured deeper into the building it became obvious that the place was entirely empty and had been for quite some time. The layout was similar to Fenchurch, except back to front, a mirror image. He entered the incident room and caught his breath, dusty desks with yellowing documents scattered here and there, an office in the same position as his own with blackout curtains instead of blinds. Gene walked over to it and let his hand rest on the door handle. He put his head to the door and listened. Nothing. He tried the door carefully. It was open. He pushed and burst into the little room, it was empty except for a desk, a chair and a filing cabinet. He tried to open the filing cabinet but it was locked. He shrugged and looked around, expecting to see Keats lolling in the doorway. Even the waste paper bin was empty. The whole office seemed to have been carefully cleared out.

Gene felt disappointment mingling with fear as he stalked the corridors of the unnamed 'station'. Every room he entered was empty and airless; could it be that Keats had squirmed through his fingers yet again? Then he came to a corridor that was different from anything at Fenchurch, after going through some double doors he found a downward staircase and began his descent, not knowing it was the same staircase that Keats had led Ray, Chris and Shaz down three years before. The air changed as he hurried down, becoming acrid and much warmer. Gene found he was having to catch his breath every so often. At the bottom of the staircase was another set of double doors with a keypad on the wall beside them. But these security doors were no longer secured, one was propped open. He felt uneasy, was he walking into a bloody great trap? He slid through and studied the lift on the other side of them. The arrow above the lift pointed downwards only. That was odd. He paced for a few seconds, thinking hard, then he looked around. He saw a cupboard and opened the door. It was a cleaning cupboard with very little in it except a broom and a few empty bottles of bleach and polish. He grabbed the broom and summoned the lift.

When the cranking and groaning had stopped and the door opened, Gene wedged the broom at the bottom of the lift door so he could step inside and investigate. There only appeared to be a downward button. He ran his fingers over the panel carefully and felt it move slightly. The door was whirring as it struggled to close against the broom. Gene slid a finger around the edge of the panel until he found a clip and released it; underneath was another panel with buttons pointing up and down. Satisfied, he removed the broom, stayed in the lift and pressed the down button. He checked his watch, he needed to hurry. Alex would be sending for the troops in six minutes.

As he descended into the bowels of the building he was aware that the acrid smoky aroma increased, cordite? He was reminded of Guy Fawkes night, of bonfires burning down to ash. He loosened his tie as the temperature increased. He was finding it hard to think straight. When the lift reached its destination and the doors cranked open, a solid wall of heat hit him, knocking him back. He stepped out of the lift and looked at the two doors, weighing up which one to investigate first. He listened at both of them, the stinky old dead bonfire smell seemed stronger near the larger door, but he thought he could hear something the other side of the smaller one. He had the most peculiar compulsion to knock, but instead gripped the handle strongly and entered, gun at the ready.

He stopped dead just inside the room; his office ; his bloody office! A carbon copy except for one detail. The curled up heap lying beside the desk near the radiator. The old man sleeping.

Keats stirred as if on cue and opened his eyes. 'You took your time, I got tired of waiting. I took a nap.' he smiled and yawned, 'If you had any idea of how long I've wanted to get you down here, show you this.'

'Must have been even longer then either of us expected.' Gene replied, 'You seem to have aged somewhat James.' he tried to gauge Keats' age, mid to late sixties maybe? Things were moving on apace it seemed. He found it quite mesmerising and somehow disturbing watching Keats standing with difficulty. If this was a trick it was a bloody impressive one. He was almost waiting for Keats to pull off a Halloween mask.

'Aged?' Keats frowned.

Gene stepped forward and grabbed a shaving mirror identical to his own. 'here you go old man' he said.

Keats stared into the mirror, his eyes huge and black, his face collapsing, his nose and ears were larger and he had a wart on his cheek that looked as if it could do with some attention. Gene heard his sharp intake of breath. 'It can't be' Keats said weakly, 'Oh yes but it must be!' he turned with shining eyes, and Gene was chilled to the bone to hear him repeat words that Alex had once said to him, 'It's over, I've done it, I can go home.'

'Done what?' Gene asked.

'Brought you here, to hell , brought you down.' Keats smiled and his breath was so putrid Gene staggered slightly as it wafted towards him.

'So where is this hell exactly?' Gene asked, looking around, 'It appears to be my office, a shitty and hastily thrown together copy of my office.'

'You just never know when you're beaten do you?' Keats said joyfully, he stepped forward. 'the lift only goes down, didn't you notice?'

Gene stepped back, not through fear, but to avoid Keats' breath, which was definitely eau de dead and rotting rat.

'Come with me' Keats said, 'Let me show you your new home, I'm sure you'll be comfortable, might even meet an old friend or two to chew over the fat with.' He walked past Gene and out of his office to the larger door. When his hand was on the handle he turned and smiled at Gene before brushing a lock of white hair from his face, 'You may find it a bit warm to begin with, but you'll acclimatise pretty quickly.'

The door swung open and Keats peered inside, his smile fading fast, 'What the hel…?'

'You mean where's the hell surely?' Gene said, his smile appearing as Keats shook his head in utter disbelief.

The two men stared into a basement full of little piles of gently smoking ash. There were no screaming tortured souls, no bodies, no bones, nothing except rapidly dying bonfires as far as the eye could see.

'Looks like hell has moved on and forgot to mention it to you.' Gene said, 'You see that's the trouble when you work for the other side. They have no morals, no sense of loyalty your bosses. No gold clocks, not even a few sausage rolls on a plate to wish you Bon Voyage. Sad really.'

Keats staggered back into the cloned office and grabbed at the phone with trembling hands, 'Let me speak to Dave.' he frowned as whoever was on the other end replied, 'Of course he'll speak to me, just put me through, stop fucking about.' he waited, 'Finished? I am not finished! Did he…. do you?' he seemed to be finding it hard to breathe. 'I don't answer to…. to… Second chance? What second chance ? I didn't…. his voice had morphed into a whine, 'I never go easy on anybody….I….talk to me, don't you dare hang up on me!' he slammed down the phone, picked it up again and redialled.

Gene could hear an automated voice loudly proclaiming the number was unobtainable. 'James Keats, I'm arresting you….' he began.

Keats looked astonished 'You're kidding. Just hold on a minute.' he glanced around the room desperately, and moved backwards to the desk. Gene knew that if he had copied every last detail there would be a gun in the second drawer.

'Give up.' he told Keats, 'It's over.'

'It'll never be over.' Keats replied quickly, stooping to open the drawer and pulling out a gun identical to Gene's. 'I made a mistake, but I can redeem myself.'

Gene raised his gun, 'Don't even think about it.'

'It's so funny and yet I don't know why it is.' Keats laughed hysterically, 'The two of us here, in a showdown like it was High Noon, when it's actually…..,', he looked at his watch, ' …coming up to twenty past four, trust us eh? Neither of us were ever traditionalists, were we?' clutching the gun in both hands he lifted his arms and looked annoyed to find his aim was shaky.

Gene found he was praying that Alex had done as she was told. But then he heard something from up above and froze, 'Fuck no!' he breathed.

Keats threw his whole weight into diving at Gene, landing on top of him, asphyxiating him with his rotting stench, Gene tried to stop himself gagging and push Keats off him, it was like being buried in a vat of week old road kill. He could tell that Keats' strength had diminished but the creature was clinging on for dear life, and all the time the lift was making its way back up to the main building. Gene could only pray that the whole of Fenchurch East CID were about to squeeze into it. He and Keats tussled on the floor but Gene couldn't seem to get above him, he tried over and over again, but Keats had one arm around his neck, his elbow pressing on Gene's windpipe. They heard someone get into the lift and it began to crank back downwards. Gene pushed frantically and Keats lost a bit of his grip.

'Go back up!' yelled Gene. 'Bolls! Keep away!' he managed to get halfway on top of Keats, and Keats pressed his finger back on Gene's windpipe in desperation, with his legs trapped under Gene's torso he managed to free the hand that was holding the gun, and aimed it at the lift door just as it began to open.

Gene gurgled as loudly as he could, and with superhuman effort pushed Keats from him, jumping up and trying to pull Keats with him to corrupt his aim.

Alex stood there, momentarily frozen, 'It's over Jim, the others are…'

Keats laughed as Gene tried and failed to grab the gun, ' It's not over. You were my mistake, Alex, my weakness, so I've just been told, I was too easy on you, gave you a second chance….didn't take you when I should have….'

Gene got Keats around the neck and wrenched him back violently, as he did so Keats fired wildly.

Alex let out a shocked half scream before slumping to the floor just outside the lift. Gene punched Keats hard in the face; the dubious wart exploded and Gene almost vomited as the muck from it went on his hand, he wiped it off frantically on his suit. Keats was hissing and crawling at his feet. Gene kicked him and rushed to Alex.

'Not again' she groaned, as blood seeped through her jeans, 'not a-bloody-gain.'

Gene pulled her up into his arms, 'You'll be fine, not that shot.' he gabbled.

'She'll be fine.' mocked Keats, slithering up behind them,' Let me look after her.'

Gene turned to look, the creature wasn't younger, that was one good thing, but the aging seemed to have stopped dead, and in the basement beyond, one of the smouldering bonfires reignited.

oxxo