Jekyll & Hyde Inc.

Chapter One

THE CHOP SHOP

Late-night cafés stand alone, like campfires holding out against the fall of night. Offering solace to their customers, from endless empty evenings and mean rooms no one ever visits. Daniel Carter, tall and lanky, dark-haired and dark-eyed, sat alone at his table in a café in old Soho. Outside it was cold, inside it was warm; but that was really all you could say in its favor. Daniel hadn’t been there long, and already he was wishing he were somewhere else.

He glanced casually round the café. This late in the evening there were only a handful of customers, all of them quietly intent on their own business. Daniel sipped some more coffee he didn’t want, and shifted uncomfortably inside his suit. He hadn’t been in plainclothes long, and he was still getting used to it.

He had thought ditching his uniform, and moving up in rank would mean he finally got to work the kind of cases that mattered, but all he did was sit behind a desk, moving papers from one pile to another. Not at all what he’d had in mind, when he first made the decision to join the police.

Daniel allowed himself another quick glance at his watch. He’d arrived early, because he’d been too impatient not to, but someone should have joined him by now. For want of anything better to do, he studied the two waitresses in their shocking pink uniforms. Angels of mercy, sisters of the night, dispensing cups of coffee in place of benedictions. The senior waitress was leaning heavily on the counter, defiantly smoking her cigarette right under the Thank You For Not Smoking sign, while the junior waitress darted in and out of the tables, doing all the real work.

Daniel looked round sharply as the door opened, and was surprised to see Paul Mayer, of all people. Easygoing, lazily handsome, and always that little bit overweight, Paul had never been known to give a damn about anything. He looked quickly round the café, dismissed everyone but Daniel, and sat down opposite him. They barely had time to nod to each other before the young waitress came bustling over with her jug of steaming coffee and a new cup.

“Black,” said Paul.

“Like your heart?” said Daniel.

“Maybe not that black,” said Paul. He waited till his cup was full, and then slapped a handful of change on the table. “Don’t hurry back, love.”

The waitress scooped up the money and retreated to the counter. She knew a lost cause when she heard one. Paul tried the coffee, pulled a face, and put the cup down.

“So, Danny boy, it’s been a while since we last got together. I take it you’re also here for the highly secret briefing?”

“You don’t think I’m drinking this stuff by choice, do you?” said Daniel.

“Why did we have to meet in this dump?” said Paul. “I feel like I’m raising the tone just by being here—and that isn’t like me.”

“I was told this operation would be very definitely off the books and under the radar,” said Daniel. “Which of course isn’t at all worrying.”

“Someone is going to want us to volunteer,” Paul said gloomily. “To do something risky, to benefit someone else.”

“But something that just might be in our best interests, if we can pull it off,” said Daniel. “That’s how our betters always bait the hook.”

The two young men nodded slowly, contemplating the way of the world.

“That is some suit you’re wearing,” said Paul. “Was it on sale?”

“At least I look respectable,” said Daniel. “You look like you stole yours off a homeless person.”

“He didn’t put up much of a struggle,” said Paul. He looked thoughtfully at Daniel. “It’s been what . . . three years? Since we started out in training together?”

Daniel nodded. “Where does the time go, when your career’s going nowhere?”

“You too?” said Paul. “Hard to believe we were the high fliers; the ones who were going to make our mark in record time. But, you can’t fight the system . . . ”

“I thought we were supposed to be fighting the bad guys,” said Daniel.

Paul started to raise his cup, remembered, and put it down again. “Why did you want to be a copper, originally?”

“To help people,” said Daniel. “To protect them from all the scumbags who prey on the vulnerable. To fight monsters. You?”

“I just thought it would better to be one of those giving the orders, than those who had to take them,” said Paul.

“You do surprise me,” said Daniel. “I thought you were only in it for the money.”

“Well, that too,” said Paul.

They laughed quietly together, and then looked round quickly as the door swung open and two more familiar faces entered the café. Oscar Marsh was a large, sturdy type in a heavy fur coat, while Nigel Rutherford was a tall, slender aristocrat in a very expensive suit. They both smiled at Daniel and Paul, and pulled up chairs to join them.

“It’s the Bear!” said Paul. “I can’t believe you’re still wearing that same old animal pelt, Oscar.”

“Fur never goes out of style,” said Oscar, in his deep rumble of a voice.

“Still visiting the old family tailor?” Daniel said to Nigel.

“Money never goes out of fashion,” Nigel murmured. “I have to say . . . it does my heart good to see you chaps again, but I’m not sure I like this. What are the odds that four ambitious types who started out together would be selected for the same clandestine meeting?”

He broke off as the young waitress showed up with her coffee jug, only to retreat again in the face of clear disinterest. She hurried back behind the counter to be comforted by the older waitress, who knew plainclothes cops when she saw them.

“I take it you two received the same mysterious summons we did?” said Daniel.

“And that your careers aren’t everything you thought they were going to be?” said Paul.

“Got it in one,” said Oscar.

“The word ‘promotion’ was mentioned,” Nigel said diffidently.

“I just want work that matters,” said Daniel.

“Still the Boy Scout,” said Paul, not unkindly.

“Somebody has to be,” said Daniel.

“But why you?” said Nigel.

“Because people who choose to be monsters, when they could be people, offend the hell out of me,” said Daniel. “Life is hard enough without the bad guys making it worse.”

They glanced round one last time as the door banged open, and then they all sat up straight. Alicia Gill was the youngest police commissioner ever—a short, blond powerhouse packed full of authority and ambition, with a face that might have been attractive if she ever smiled. She was out of uniform too, though wearing something too expensive to be properly anonymous. The four police officers started to rise to their feet in the presence of a superior officer, but Gill glared them into quickly sitting down again. She hauled a chair across from the next table, dropped into it, and set her briefcase down beside her. The young waitress started forward hopefully, but Gill stopped her with a look.

Paul fixed Gill with an equally hard stare. “So. Why are we here, Commissioner?”

“Call me Gill,” she said sharply. “And keep your voice down, because officially I am not here and this meeting never happened. Now pay attention; I have a job for you.”

“How can we help someone like you?” said Nigel. “We don’t even breathe the same air.”

“Right,” said Oscar.

“I have hit the glass ceiling, and discovered it’s made of bulletproof glass,” said Gill. “No more promotions and no way forward—unless I can pull off something really impressive, on my own initiative. I need someone useful to take care of the heavy lifting, so I chose you four because you’re all new to plainclothes.”

“But still—why us?” said Daniel.

“What he said, only louder,” said Paul.

“None of you have any experience in undercover work, so I can be sure no one knows about you,” Gill said steadily. “On the street, or in the force.”

All four of them sat up and took notice. Gill leaned forward across the table.

“This operation is strictly volunteers only, but it’s guaranteed promotions all round, if you can bring this off.”

“I’m sensing a difficulty in our near future,” said Nigel. “Some built-in drawbacks, to place obstacles in our path.”

“What’s the catch?” said Paul.

“You’ll be taking on an established firm, with a reputation for extreme violence when it comes to protecting its assets,” said Gill. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Oscar grinned. “Sounds like fun. I like solving problems.”

He cracked his knuckles loudly, and his three friends looked somewhere else for a moment. The Bear had his own reputation for violence.

“Is this mission something worth doing?” said Daniel. It bothered him, that he was the only one at the table to ask that.

“Of course,” said Gill.

“I’m in,” said Paul. The others nodded their agreement, and Daniel went along, because he knew this was going to happen with or without him. And he really was tired of shuffling papers.

“Who’s the target?” he said.

“An underground surgical organization,” said Gill. “There’s a branch just a few streets from here, hidden away behind a secondhand bookshop.”

“And that’s why we’re meeting here,” said Paul.

Gill allowed herself a small smile. “I certainly didn’t choose this place for its ambience.”

“I doubt anyone here could even spell that,” said Nigel.

“Snob,” said Oscar.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said Nigel.

“The firm in question calls itself The Cutting Edge,” said Gill. “They specialize in unauthorized transplants, unsafe cosmetic procedures, and the kind of really unpleasant fetish work that never gets talked up in the glossy magazines.”

Daniel frowned. “Black-market organs means big money . . . and high-up protection.”

“They’re all going down,” Gill said flatly. “But you can go up, if you’ve got the balls to grab for the golden ring.”

“I’m in,” said Oscar.

“Of course you are, o Bear of little brain,” said Nigel.

“Don’t you want this?” said Oscar.

“Of course I want it,” said Nigel. “I’m just debating whether the reward is worth the risk.”

“You can always stay where you are,” said Gill. “Who knows? You might get another promotion. In ten years or so.”

“Hell with that,” said Oscar. “I’m in.”

Nigel sighed. “And so am I.”

“What kind of security will we be facing?” said Paul.

“Just basic muscle,” said Gill.

“I’m still having trouble seeing the moral high ground in this,” said Daniel. “Who exactly will we be protecting, if we take down these Cutting Edge people?”

Gill looked at him impatiently. “Many of the patients involved are simply ordinary people driven to desperate measures by long waiting lists, or because traditional hospitals won’t help them. But if anything goes wrong, they just get dumped by the roadside. And if anyone tries to complain, well . . . dead patients tell no tales. Is that good enough for you?”

Daniel subsided. He could tell the others were getting impatient with him.

“I want this Cutting Edge stamped on hard,” said Gill, looking steadily round the table. “I need you to get in, hold everyone, and gather evidence. Then call me for backup.”

“So this will be official, eventually?” said Daniel.

“Of course,” said Gill. “Understand me, all of you: screw this up and I never heard of you, and certainly never authorized anything. But get it right, and I’ll take you all the way up the promotions ladder with me.”

“Fair enough,” said Paul. And everyone else nodded.

Gill slapped a card on the table. “Here’s the address for the bookshop. And . . . ” She gestured at the briefcase by her feet. “I brought you a few toys to play with. Four sets of Tasers, and some extendable batons. Don’t say I never give you anything.”

“No guns?” said Oscar.

“You’re only going after a few backstreet surgeons and their hired muscle,” said Gill. “Give me half an hour to put some space between us, and then you’re on.”

She got up and left the café. The four men looked at one another.

“Does she really believe she can just walk away from this, if it should turn pear-shaped?” said Daniel.

“It would be our word against hers,” said Paul. “And she’s somebody, while we’re not. You can bet there won’t be any paper trail connecting her to us—and that’s all a Board of Inquiry would care about.”

“Any of you heard of these Cutting Edge people?” said Daniel. There was a general shaking of heads. “Don’t you think we should have, if the firm is as big as she says?”

“Why would we?” said Paul. “This isn’t our territory.”

“You can bet good money the lady will get a lot more out of this than we will,” said Nigel.

“But we’ll get enough to make it worthwhile,” said Paul.

“Right,” said Oscar.

“I’m still concerned that we’re missing something,” said Nigel. “You know what they say: If you can’t see the patsy in the deal, it’s you.”

“Are we going to do this or not?” said Paul. “It’s make-up-your-mind time, people . . . This is our chance to bring down some big league bad guys, and acquire major brownie points in the process.”

“It’s a way out of jobs we hate,” said Oscar.

“And . . . we get to do some good,” said Daniel.

“All for one, and all against one!” said Nigel. “Let us venture forth into the night and stick it to the bad guys!”

“Right,” said Oscar. He cracked his knuckles again, and everyone winced.

The four of them ended up loitering casually on a street corner, in an area that had never even heard of gentrification. The bookshop was a shabby affair, the only window painted over in thick swirls so no one could see in. The sign above the window said simply Secondhand Bookshop.

“Not even a name?” said Paul. “They could have made an effort.”

Daniel looked up and down the street, checking out the long gloomy stretches punctuated by pools of lamplight. Like spotlights on an empty stage, and a play no one wanted to be in.

“Where is everybody?”

“It’s late,” said Paul.

“Not for Soho,” said Daniel. “There’s usually someone around, selling things they shouldn’t. And the odd punter looking to do something unwise.”

“Unless the local population knows something we don’t,” said Nigel.

“There’s no muscle guarding the door,” said Oscar.

“Try not to sound so disappointed,” said Paul. “Remember, Bear: unconscious people can’t answer questions.”

“They can’t give you any trouble either,” Oscar said reasonably.

They all took a moment, to check that the Tasers and batons they’d stowed about their persons were ready to hand.

“Ah, memories . . . ” said Oscar.

Daniel looked at him, but said nothing. Every plan of action needs someone like Oscar.

“Can’t help feeling we’d be better off with proper guns,” said Nigel.

“It’s just a backstreet chop shop,” said Paul. “A Taser will take down anyone, no matter how big they are. It’s very democratic.”

“How do we want to do this?” said Oscar.

“Keep it simple,” said Daniel. “Less to go wrong that way. We walk in, flash our IDs around, and arrest everything that moves. Oscar, you can flatten any muscle who objects, just to show we mean business. Then we tear the place apart until we find some useful paperwork . . . and perhaps even some computer records, if anyone’s been stupid enough to use an obvious password. Once we’re done we can just sit on everything, call the commissioner, and wait for backup.”

“Assuming everything goes smoothly,” said Nigel. “And we don’t have to lay down the law in an assertive fashion.”

“Best part,” said Oscar. He cracked his knuckles loudly, and everyone found a reason to look somewhere else.

“Paul, you can take the front door, with me,” said Daniel. “Nigel, Oscar: nip round the back. Just in case anyone rabbits.”

“Since when are you the commanding officer?” said Nigel.

“Do you have a better plan?” said Daniel.

“That’s not the point,” said Nigel.

“It sort of is,” said Paul.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” said Oscar.

He strode off, heading determinedly for the narrow alley beside the shop, and Nigel went after him.

“If you crack your knuckles one more time, Bear . . . ”

Paul grinned at Daniel. “It does feel good, to be doing something that matters.”

“This is what I joined up for,” said Daniel. “To be the man in the white hat, riding to the rescue. Do you think anyone in there is going to give us a hard time?”

“Why should they?” said Paul. “Makes more sense for them to just sit quietly, and wait for the firm’s lawyers to break them loose.”

“Then let’s go fight some monsters,” said Daniel.

“I take it back,” said Paul. “You’re not a Boy Scout, you’re a knight in shining armor.”

“Somebody has to be,” said Daniel.

Inside the shop, the walls were covered in shelves packed with cheap paperbacks, while a bored-looking teenage girl stood slumped over the counter, concentrating on her phone. A tall, gangling sort with spiky hair, a white T-shirt, and black leather trousers, she made a big thing out of ignoring the new arrivals while still being very aware of their presence. Daniel moved forward to confront her, while Paul drifted casually into position to block the way to the rear door. The receptionist looked up from her phone, her eyes quietly alert while her face gave nothing away.

“See anything you fancy, gents? Got some nice Agatha Christies.”

“We’re not here for books,” said Daniel.

“Didn’t think so. Do you have an appointment, gents?”

Daniel showed her his warrant card. She just sniffed.

“We’re paid up. You want anything special, your bosses will have to talk to my bosses. Not my department.”

“Cut the crap,” said Paul. “We’re shutting you down.”

The teenage girl stood up straight. It was hard to tell whether she looked more surprised, or outraged. “Like hell you are. I told you: we’re all paid up!”

“We heard you,” said Daniel. “We don’t care. You’re under arrest.”

She didn’t even try to bluff him, just bolted for the rear door. Paul was ready for that, but she lowered her shoulder and slammed right through him, sending him crashing into a bookshelf. She was already through the door and gone by the time he got his feet under him again. Daniel shook his head.

“You have spent far too long behind a desk.”

“She must be on something,” said Paul, with what dignity he had left. “She punted me out of the way like a runaway truck.”

“She won’t get far,” said Daniel. “Nigel and Oscar must have blocked off the rear by now, and if she tries that trick on Oscar she’ll just bounce right off him.”

“Well, no more mister nice guy,” said Paul. He drew his Taser. “From now on, anyone who even looks at me funny is going to dance the funny dance.”

Daniel nodded, and drew his own Taser. “She’s probably already on her phone to someone higher up, to ask for instructions.”

“Let her,” said Paul. “It’s time to bring the hammer down.”

The back room turned out to be just an open space, its gloom only partly pushed back by light spilling through from the shop. No furniture, no stock, nothing but another door on the far side of the room. Which crashed open suddenly as Oscar barged through, with Nigel right behind him.

“Thought it had been quiet a bit too long,” said Nigel. “So I had the Bear announce us. He’s so useful to have around; our very own human battering ram.”

“Next time I’ll use you as a battering ram,” said Oscar, massaging his shoulder.

“Did a teenage girl just run past you?” said Paul.

Nigel raised an eyebrow. “Hardly.”

“Where is everybody?” said Oscar.

“There was only the one girl,” said Daniel. “And she got away. But if she didn’t leave through the back door . . . ”

“Then there must be a hidden exit in here,” said Paul.

It didn’t take them long to discover the trapdoor in the floor. They got it open easily enough, revealing rough stone steps falling away, illuminated by a single hanging bulb. Daniel held his Taser out before him and started down, with the others following close behind. After a while, Daniel wrinkled his nose.

“Can you smell . . . blood?”

“Reminds me of the butcher shop my old uncle used to run,” said Paul.

“We knew this was a chop shop,” said Oscar.

“Even a backstreet surgery should smell of antiseptic, not offal,” said Nigel.

“This is going to be a bad one,” said Daniel.

Nobody argued with him.

The steps ended at a locked door. Daniel stood to one side, so Oscar could do the business. He charged down the steps and slammed the heavy door open, and they all rushed in, Tasers at the ready. The low-ceilinged cellar was bigger than the shop above, starkly illuminated by overhead fluorescent lights and packed from wall to wall with trestle tables bearing dozens of naked corpses, cut open so the organs could be removed. Blood-spattered rib cages had been levered back, over empty crimson caverns. Arms and legs had been sliced open, to get at the muscles and tendons. There were no eyes in the faces, no tongues in the gaping mouths. Even the skulls had been sawed open and emptied out. The harsh light was merciless in revealing every detail, and the stench of blood and death was almost unbearable.

The policemen huddled together, like children who’d found their way into an ogre’s lair.

“This is no surgery,” said Nigel. “This is a charnel house.”

“A chop shop,” said Oscar.

“This isn’t what we came here for,” said Paul.

Daniel didn’t say anything. He was too sickened, and too angry.

At the back of the room, three figures in blood-soaked surgical gowns were bent over a patient on a table. Held in place by heavy leather straps, he still fought and heaved as the surgeons’ hands disappeared into the hole they’d made in his torso; and bit by bit they took him apart. Scalpels cut and slashed, and gloved hands removed all the useful pieces, placing them carefully on waiting steel trays. The patient would have filled the cellar with his screams, if he hadn’t been so thoroughly gagged.

Blood spurted, and steam rose from the opening into the chilly air of the cellar. Daniel stood frozen in place by shock and horror, as one of the surgeons put aside his scalpel and thrust both hands into the bloody opening. He pulled out the man’s heart, and held it up so the other surgeons could admire it. The patient heaved against his restraints one last time, and then lay still. Blood spilled down his sides, and dripped off the table to splash on the floor.

Daniel knew there was nothing he could have done to save the man. Everything he’d seen had taken place in just a few moments. But for the rest of his life he would be tormented by the thought that he should have done something. He raised his voice.

“Get away from him, you bastards!”

The three surgeons straightened up and stared at the newcomers with wide, surprised eyes over their face masks. Blood dripped thickly from the instruments in their hands. Daniel raised his Taser and looked around for the missing teenage girl, but couldn’t see her anywhere—which meant there had to be a hidden exit. He was surprised he could still think clearly, in the midst of so many atrocities. But perhaps he needed to, in order to stay sane.

Paul leveled his Taser at all three surgeons impartially.

“Police! You’re under arrest!”

The surgeons looked at one another. One carefully lowered his bone saw, and stepped out from behind the bloody mess he’d been working on.

“But . . . we’re paid up!”

“I am getting really tired of hearing that,” said Daniel. “You can’t bribe your way out of this.”

“Damn right,” said Oscar.

“What have you people been doing here?” said Nigel.

“Just the usual,” said the surgeon. He looked to the other surgeons for support, but they were happy for him to serve as spokesman, so he turned reluctantly back again. “We take the bodies apart, and then ship everything off for transplants. It’s all used up; nothing goes to waste.”

“Where does it all go?” said Daniel.

The surgeon shrugged. “Not our department. Storage, somewhere. There are always orders waiting to be filled.”

“This is sick,” said Oscar.

“That’s not the worst of it,” said Daniel. He gestured angrily at the nearby trestle tables, his hand shaking with the strength of his emotions. “See the heavy restraints, at the wrists and the ankles? All of these people were strapped down, to stop them from struggling.”

Paul looked at him sharply. “You mean . . . they were alive, when these bastards started cutting? Like the one they just butchered?”

Daniel glared at the surgeon. “Why would you do something like that?”

The surgeon shrugged. “Anaesthetics cost money . . . ”

“You little shits,” said Oscar.

“That’s why they put the surgery this far down,” said Daniel. “So no one would hear the screams.”

“They were only homeless people!” the surgeon said quickly. “No one who’ll be missed. At least this way they serve some useful purpose.”

“Someone stop him talking,” said Nigel.

“Love to,” said Oscar.

“We’re shutting this butcher’s shop down,” said Daniel.

“You can’t!” said the surgeon. “This is a Frankenstein Clan operation! We’re protected, by very high-up people!”

“They can go down with you,” said Daniel.

His hand was suddenly entirely steady as he shot the surgeon with his Taser, and the man fell jerking to the floor, trying to force out a scream. Oscar charged forward, not bothering with his own Taser. He raised his baton and clubbed the other two surgeons to the floor, grunting happily with the effort he put into his blows. Blood flew on the air, and the surgeons soon stopped screaming, but Oscar just kept going. And after everything Daniel had seen, he didn’t feel like intervening.

And then the spiky-haired teenage girl burst out of a concealed side door, along with two hulking figures in hospital whites. She stabbed a finger at the policemen, her voice shrill with outrage.

“Kill them! Kill them all!”

The two huge figures lurched forward. Big enough to be serious steroid abusers, their hands opened and closed menacingly as they advanced; but there was something odd in the way they moved, as though their muscles weren’t connected properly, and they couldn’t feel the floor beneath their feet. Most disturbing of all, their faces were completely empty, their eyes fixed and staring. Like dead men walking.

“They’re on something!” said Paul.

Oscar smiled, and hefted his baton. Blood dripped thickly from the extended nightstick.

“Won’t make any difference.”

Paul tasered the nearest big man but he just kept coming, as though he hadn’t felt anything. Oscar charged the other figure and hit him head-on. The man was actually bigger than Oscar, and the two of them grappled clumsily as they wrestled back and forth, crashing into trestle tables and overturning them. Paul dropped his Taser as the first figure advanced on him, and thrust his baton viciously in under the man’s sternum, hard enough to paralyze the heart. The big man didn’t even blink. Huge hands clamped down on Paul’s shoulders, and he cried out in pain. Daniel moved quickly in beside Paul, raining blow after blow on the attacker’s head with his baton, but no blood spurted, and the big man didn’t even seem to notice. Paul was screaming now, as his collarbone shattered under the heavy hands.

The teenage girl advanced on Nigel, grinning nastily. He hesitated, not wanting to hurt a woman—until he saw the look in her eyes, and then he shot her at point-blank range with his Taser. Her grin widened and she surged forward, ignoring the drooping wires and the current they carried. She slapped the Taser right out of his hand. Nigel switched to his baton, and whipped it across her face. She didn’t even flinch. Nigel backed away, and the girl went after him.

Oscar screamed shrilly. Daniel looked round just in time to see the huge figure take a firm hold on Oscar’s head with both hands, and rip it clean off his shoulders. Blood fountained from the ragged neck, splashing against the overhead lights and dripping back again in a crimson rain. Oscar’s body crumpled slowly to the floor.

Paul suddenly stopped screaming. Daniel looked back, to see the massive figure crushing Paul in a bear hug. There was an awful snapping sound as Paul’s back broke, and then the big man just threw him away. Paul hit the ground hard, and didn’t move again. Daniel threw himself at the huge figure, and hit him again and again with his baton, shouting helpless obscenities, and the man slowly turned his head to look at him. The eyes didn’t see him at all. The scalp had been half torn away from the forehead, but there wasn’t any blood. Daniel lowered his baton, and staggered backward.

He saw the teenage girl punch Nigel under the breastbone so hard that blood flew from his mouth, and the light went out of his eyes.

Daniel never knew who hit him from behind. As he fell to the floor, his last thought was, We were set up.