Serah awoke, found herself lying on her bed, and wondered for a moment if it had all been just another dream. Light stung her eyes, and a pungent odor hung in the air. She sniffed, trying to place it, then forced her eyes open. A low voice came from the kitchen area, the words too low to make out. No, it wasn’t a dream. It was terrifyingly real.
There was a struggle. She had been knocked unconscious or had possibly fainted. She suddenly remembered the gun pointed at her and sat up with a half-scream that she quickly stifled, fearing her attacker was still there, waiting for her to wake up. The pain, delayed by panic and adrenaline, suddenly arrived at her temple where the butt of the plaser had struck her, then to her chest a few seconds later. She’d broken ribs before in an aircar accident. This pain, while intense, was not nearly as debilitating. Just bruised, she decided. Without proper medical attention, she would likely be sore for a week or two, but unless she was hemorrhaging internally, she should still be able to fight and escape her captor. There would only be this one chance.
She forced herself out of bed, balancing herself against the wall to avoid falling over. Her legs were weak, and the throbbing in her head got worse. This wouldn’t be easy. She looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon. Though it wasn’t convenient, the only portable object with any weight was the lamp on her nightstand. She quietly picked it up with both hands and held it ready, like a club. Still disoriented and unable to steady herself, she leaned against the wall and stepped into the living room from the sleeping area.
“Whoa!” Sergeant David Parrino yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the cup he carried. He reached out with his free hand, slowly pressed down on the lamp to get Serah to lower it, then grabbed her under the arm and walked her to the couch.
Serah stumbled backward and dropped the lamp to the floor. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you say something when you heard me scream?”
“Experience,” Parrino said as if the answer were obvious. “When you’re an unexpected visitor in a woman’s apartment, there are many ways to announce your presence. By sight and from a distance are usually the best ones that won’t get you shot … or … lamped in this instance.” He handed her the cup and saucer and moved her towards the sofa. “It has a pain suppressant mixed into it,” he explained.
She took the saucer, trying to keep her shaking hands from spilling the cup to the floor. Something caught the corner of her eye. She looked and saw her former assailant lying face down on the floor. She shrieked again, then rolled her eyes in frustration at how helpless she must appear to Parrino. She struggled for a moment, trying to process what must have happened while she was unconscious.
“Is he…”
“Oh, yes,” Parrino said without emotion.
“Why haven’t you called the police?” Serah asked.
“Because I am the police?” Parrino shrugged.
Serah rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I’ll call it in. Right after we talk one-on-one. It’s still calm, and there aren’t a half-dozen forensic specialists hovering around your apartment. It’s nicer this way.” He moved his head to make sure they made eye contact. “Are you okay with all this so far?”
She nodded, grabbing the cup from the table and taking a sip. She winced as she swallowed.
“Did he do that bad a number on you?” Parrino asked, concerned.
“I wasn’t expecting tea, especially this one. I still can’t decide if I like it or not.” She set the cup down quickly, spilling most of its contents on the table.
“I’ll get you something else,” Parrino offered and stood up.
A panicked thought hit Serah. She spotted her bag on the table and remembered the weapon she had stashed before heading towards Spitalfields. She took a deep breath, leaped up, reached into it, and retrieved the strange gun. She aimed it directly at Parrino’s head. Her hands shook, and she fell back against the wall as the wave of pain made her vision go white with stars.
“Whoa! Hang on.” Parrino’s voice suddenly sounded a mile away. “You don’t want to do this, Serah.”
“Why are you here? How did you know where to find me? And the tea? Why did you bring me that tea? How do you even know about it?!”
“I’m sorry,” Parrino said in a soothing tone, obviously trying to calm Serah. “I just chose the most recently accessed selection on your dispenser menu. I wasn’t expecting it to upset you.”
Serah considered this for a moment, trying to remember if she had ever selected Thurinese Ollong from her own dispenser. She steadied the gun and eyed Parrino suspiciously.
“As for how I found you, well, that’s what I do for a living, Ms. Wyles,” he said accusingly. “And the reason I came here is that I was told you were in danger, and I thought we could help each other out.”
“What!?” Serah exclaimed incredulously.
“Do you know who he was?” Parrino asked, indicating the body on the floor.
“No, he just barged in here claiming I was working with Halferne. He …” She went back, trying to remember the exact words her attacker used. “He said I killed Halferne. He said I was part of some network … I had no idea what he was talking about.”
“Okay, that fits,” Parrino said. “His name was Bernard Ducard. He was a special agent with Division 4’s European Office. He was tracking an assassin named Seranos, but somehow ended up here in London looking for Halferne, and then you. His partner said he went rogue. I think he had help.”
“I saw him in Nine Stones right before I met you. He kept staring at me. I think he was chasing me in the Phrame after that, but I am not sure.”
Parrino nodded, understanding the situation, and held up a hand. “You want to tell me about that gun?”
“I found it in my bag. I think it’s the gun that killed Halferne. I think he planted it in my bag that night, when I saw him at Nine Stones, right before I met you.”
“It’s a flechette pistol.” Parrino nodded. “The same kind that killed Halferne and a billy named Galloway. I believe you know him?”
“I know.” Serah’s voice was thin and shaky. “I know what this looks like, but I didn’t kill them. At least, I don’t think I did.”
“I don’t think you did either,” Parrino said, slowly reaching for the gun.
“Stay back!” Serah cried, but Parrino kept moving towards her. In a panic, she closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. She felt Parrino gently pry her fingers from the gun’s handle and slowly guide her back to the sofa. “It’s obvious you don’t know the first thing about guns,” he explained.
Serah gasped. “I could have—”
“Not unless you actually load it and put in a power cell. No, you couldn’t have.” He smiled.
Serah remembered what Erik said: it was essentially a collection of parts and chemicals until it was activated. She laughed nervously and sat back down on the couch.
“Ducard told his partner Soranus was after Halferne and that he had fled to London. That gun is Soranus’ usual M.O. My theory is that Ducard took it off him and, for some reason, decided to continue Soranus’ mission. Maybe he was coerced, but he definitely had help. Whoever it was managed to fake a jurisdictional transfer order that passed all scrutiny until my boss called Ducard’s boss to verify it.”
“I found out Halferne came to London looking for me. Is that why Ducard thinks I’m part of his network?”
“It fits. Ducard knew who you were as soon as you left the crime scene that night, and his partner said he seemed hell-bent on killing you.”
“I’m not involved in any of this if that’s what you’re insinuating. At least … I don’t think I am?”
“I believe you,” Parrino assured her. “At least, I believe you don’t know how you fit in, but you are mixed up in this somehow. You were spotted at Nine Stones for the first time in five years the day after Halferne was killed, and you wandered right into the exact spot where he was murdered just minutes after we got there. This puts you right at the scene of two murders. Now, maybe I have a theory that works for some of this, but the SI analysts, and any sensible cop that doesn’t know you, aren’t going to see it that way. So, you’ll have to trust me and come clean with what you’re not telling me.”
Parrino spoke so quickly that Serah had to briefly digest the words. She still wasn’t sure she trusted him or whether he genuinely trusted her, but she decided she didn’t care anymore. She just wanted the whole affair to be over with. “Do you believe in precognition?”
Parrino sat down next to her, apparently confused by the unexpected question. “That’s your story? You’re some kind of psychic?”
Serah slowly and meticulously recounted the events of the past three days for the Sergeant. She began with the malfunctioning dreamspinner, the missing gaps in her memory where she went to Nine Stones, and the dream that led her to the murder site. By the time she came to the shade and the warnings from Flo about massive amounts of data being dumped in her head, contrary to all known neuroscience, Parrino was enthralled.
“I thought my hunch would be hard to sell to the analyzers, but yours is completely out there. I don’t buy mind control, and certainly not by dumping information into someone’s brain through a skullcap.”
“But I’m telling you the absolute truth,” Serah pleaded. “You have to believe me.”
Parrino studied her for a moment, exhaled slowly, and nodded. “Okay, let’s say I do believe you. What am I supposed to do now?”
“There has to be a reason for all of this. The most logical explanation is that Halferne is behind it. He’s trying to send me a message or wants me to do something.”
Parrino thought for a moment. “Ducard didn’t give you anything to go on?”
“Nothing that made sense. He seemed on the verge of a breakdown.”
“We’re going to need something more useful than that.” Parrino laughed slightly.
Serah thought momentarily, trying to remember what else the man had said. “He said Halferne left allies in France to find me. He assumed I was part of a network and kept demanding to know where the rest were. So, France?”
Parrino’s comm unit chirped. He raised his wrist and studied the readout. “It’s Mak,” he said. “I’ll get a team over here to take care of this. Just relax until then.” He stood up and walked into the kitchen.
Serah thought for a moment, trying to come up with any connection she might have to Halferne, hoping it might lead to his other allies, but as far as Erik or anyone else seemed to know, he died two Q-gates and 50 light-years away when she was an infant. She thought about calling Erik again and asking him to dig up more, but Halferne had likely been off the grid for decades. Maybe there really wasn’t any more. She sipped at the tea again, finding she was beginning to like the flavor despite the strong, pungent aroma.
Parrino returned to the room looking determined. “Never mind relaxing. We’ve got work to do. I need you to come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because this case just got weirder, you know more about what’s happening than I do, and, right now, you’re going to be safer with me.”
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