Author's Note: Thanks very much to the people who reviewed the last chapter - Jiwa, Catelly (x 2), CJaMes12, Theta'sWorstNightmare, egaara, 3LW00D, Bernice-Summerfield and SawManiac211.
Special thanks to SawManiac211 for your lovely, encouraging PM.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Not knowing what else to do, Sam led the way back down the stairs to the front office, wanting to put as much distance between them and the Angel as possible. At the foot of the stairs, they nearly tripped over another couple of bodies, dressed in police uniform. With a curse, Sam stopped to feel for a pulse, but it was useless. The Angel was a very efficient killer. These two men would never even have seen what hit them. And God alone knew how many other bodies there were scattered around the station.
Guilt tore at him. He hadn't known these two men personally, but somewhere out there they had families and friends who would now never see them again. He couldn't help thinking that if only he'd believed Amy in the first place, all of this could have been avoided.
"This is my fault," he said, looking up at Gene. "If I'd listened sooner, we could have evacuated the station and everyone would still be alive."
Gene's eyes narrowed. "Don't beat yourself up about it, Tyler," he advised. "I'm one of the most open-minded, reasonable blokes you could come across and I didn't believe it. What makes you think anyone else would?"
Sam climbed wordlessly to his feet. At any other time, he would have grinned at the small, strangled noise Amy made at the DCI's comment. But nothing about this situation was remotely funny, even Gene Hunt claiming to be open-minded. With one last glance at the mangled bodies, he pushed the stairwell door open and they emerged into the front desk area.
Holding the blazing torch high to illuminate the room, Sam strode across to the big, plate-glass doors leading to the outside world. It was immediately obvious that the Angel had been telling the truth – the locking mechanism on the entrance had been melted beyond recognition, fusing the doors together to form an impenetrable barrier. As with most police stations, the glass was bullet-proof and virtually unbreakable. They were trapped. Sam slammed his fists against the doors in frustration. The lights of Manchester glittered enticingly in the distance, promising safety, sanity, normality, so close and yet so far away.
He heard Amy give a small cry and looked around. The red-headed girl hurried behind the desk, bending over to closely examine something. With a chill in his heart, Sam saw the stockinged legs protruding from behind the desk, ending in a sensible pair of black, lace-up shoes. Forcing his reluctant feet to move, he made himself cross over to join her, dreading what he knew he was about to see.
Gene was before him, staring down in disbelief at the body on the floor.
"Phyllis," he muttered. "That's Phyllis!"
The WPC's head was twisted at an impossible angle, her skull internally torn from her spine, her filmy eyes gazing unseeingly at the ceiling. Sam swallowed hard against the sickness rising in his throat. Phyllis had always been such a huge part of his life since arriving in 1973. He almost expected her to sit up and start ripping into him for breaching custody procedure. It just didn't seem possible that she would never move again.
"I'm so sorry," Amy said in a low, compassionate voice. "But she's dead. There's nothing we can do."
Gene's face twisted with anger and suppressed grief. He and Phyllis had clashed any number of times, but Sam knew his boss had always respected and even secretly liked the feisty, straight-talking WPC. Squatting down beside her body, the DCI stretched out his hand and gently closed her staring eyes, trying to give her some dignity in death.
"Stupid old battleaxe!" he said gruffly, struggling not to show his emotion. "What'd you have to go and get yourself killed for?"
Without thinking, Sam put his hand comfortingly on Gene's shoulder. To his surprise, his usually cantankerous boss actually let it lie there for a few brief moments before roughly shrugging it off.
Just then, the hand-held radio crackled back into life. "Detective Inspector Tyler? It's Angel Bob here again, Sir. Can you hear me?"
Gene's eyes flicked up to pin his DI with an incredulous glare. "Angel Bob?" he mouthed silently.
Sam gestured to him to remain silent and pulled the handset from his pocket, raising it to his mouth. "I hear you, Angel Bob," he answered curtly.
"I expect you've found WPC Dobbs' body by now, Sir," the Angel said.
Sam frowned, turning in an abrupt circle, his eyes exploring the shadows as alarm bells began to ring in his head. How did the Angel know they were in the front desk area? Had it managed to follow them from the CID office? Was it stalking them through the darkness? The eerie thought chilled his blood.
"Why do you say that?" he bit out warily.
"Oh, I know where you are, Detective Inspector," came the calm voice, tinged with mocking amusement, as if it knew every thought in Sam's head and was laughing at him. "The Angels are always with you, Sir."
Sam shot an urgent glance of inquiry at Amy, but she just shook her head blankly. She obviously had no idea what the creature was talking about. He turned his attention back to the radio.
"What's that supposed to mean? How do you know where we are?"
"Why, because of Miss Pond, Sir," the Angel replied. "We are in her eye. I see what she sees. As long as she is with you, I will always know where you are. Until I kill you all, of course."
Amy's hand flew to her eye with a stifled gasp of horror, suddenly realising that she had been betraying them all from the very beginning, without even knowing it. Far from being the advantage she had thought, the sand in her eye was actually the biggest disadvantage of all.
"Oh God!" she whispered. "It's all about me. It's been following me all along, using me to play with us. This has all been part of its sick hunting game."
The radio in Sam's hand buzzed and fizzed, oblivious to Amy's distress. "I have a proposal for you, Detective Inspector Tyler," the Angel's voice continued.
"What sort of proposal?" Sam snapped.
"Miss Pond is a liability to you, Sir. If she stays with you, I will find you and kill you all. But she has more temporal energy in her body than any other human in this building. She will make a substantial meal for me. The proposal is simple. Give her to me and I will let you and Detective Chief Inspector Hunt live."
Sam didn't even hesitate, knowing instinctively that the Angel was taking more pleasure in trying to turn them against each other. "You can go straight to hell!" he retorted. "We'll never give her to you, so just forget it!"
But the Angel was unruffled by his savage refusal. "Forgive me for saying so, Sir, but you are not the ranking officer, I believe. I would like to negotiate with Detective Chief Inspector Hunt, please."
Sam saw Amy take a defensive step backwards, her eyes wide with apprehension, as if she was unsure how Gene would react to the Angel's offer. She needn't have worried. Anger was radiating from every line of his body, almost tangible in the tension-filled air. Leaping to his feet, he strode across to Sam and snatched the radio from his DI's hand.
"This is DCI Hunt," he snarled. "And I've got only one thing to say, you bastard. Phyllis Dobbs was one of ours. And nobody, even the Angel Gabriel himself, comes on to my patch and harms my people without paying for it. So here's a proposal for you, Angel Boy. If I were you, I'd pick up those sissy stone skirts of yours and run...while you still can!"
With that, he threw the radio on the floor and ground his foot into it, smashing it into tiny pieces. "End of negotiation."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sam couldn't help the bubble of ironic laughter that rose uncontrollably in his throat. No matter how often Sam had taken him through it, Gene never had learned the finer points of negotiation. But, just for once, Sam couldn't think of anything he could have said better.
"Well, that told him, Guv," he commented dryly.
Gene straightened his shoulders, like a general preparing to lead his troops into battle. "Right then!" he said, surveying his two companions, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Let's work out how to kick the big fairy's arse back into outer space, where it belongs!"