The Revelation Code

8

A voice brought Eddie out of an exhausted but restless slumber. ‘… went over there earlier. Normally they have twenty or thirty people working, but there’ll hardly be anyone there on those days.’

The speaker’s identity came to him: Irton, his torturer, talking on a phone. A spike of fear-fuelled adrenalin instantly snapped him to full wakefulness. He was still tied to the chair, arms pinned painfully behind his back. His body cried out for him to move to ease the discomfort, but he resisted. The longer his captors thought he was still unconscious, the more he might overhear.

The respect, even deference, in Irton’s voice told Eddie he was talking to his boss. ‘No, I wouldn’t think so,’ the American went on. ‘Is that still the plan? Okay, yes. No, the security’s only light.’

A crunch of footsteps on the dirty floor nearby. ‘Hey,’ said another man. Eddie now knew that his name was Berman; the blond who had been waiting for him near the apartment. ‘I think he’s awake.’ A hand slapped him hard across the cheek. ‘Open your eyes,’ said Berman. ‘I know you’re faking it.’

‘Aw, but I was having such a shitty dream,’ Eddie rasped, seeing the third man, Raddick, behind Berman. ‘And you were there, and you were there…’

‘Cute,’ said Raddick with a mocking smirk. ‘Mr Irton, sir! He’s awake.’

Eddie turned his head to see Irton standing by one of the pieces of abandoned machinery. ‘Chase just woke up,’ he said into his phone, before moving away and resuming his discussion out of earshot. Night had arrived, only darkness visible through the skylights. Illumination inside the warehouse was limited to a lamp-lit circle around the torture chair.

‘Thought you could play dead and listen in, huh?’ said Berman. ‘What, you think we’re idiots?’

‘That’s one thing on a bloody long list, yeah,’ Eddie replied. He had already braced himself for another blow, and sure enough it arrived a moment later. Wincing from the sting, he looked up at Berman. ‘An’ I just added “Slaps like a little girl” to it.’

That earned him a full-blown punch to the face. ‘How was that?’

‘Fucker!’ He jerked against his bonds, making the chair rattle.

‘Enough!’ called the irritated Irton.

‘Oh, sorry, am I interrupting your call?’ shouted the Englishman. ‘I’ll leave if you want!’

Irton scowled, then stalked through an exterior door, closing it behind him. Eddie looked back at the other two men. ‘Now he’s gone, you can play with your dollies in peace.’

Berman raised a fist, but Raddick patted his comrade’s shoulder. ‘Hey, hey, he’s just trying to yank your chain.’

‘Yeah, I guess.’ Berman moved reluctantly away, but gave Eddie a nasty look as he retreated. ‘You and me, we’re not finished.’

‘Can’t wait,’ Eddie replied, trying not to let his concern show. He had managed to withstand everything Irton and the others had inflicted upon him so far, but it had taken all his reserves of strength and willpower, and after more than a full day in painful captivity, he honestly didn’t know how much more he could take. So far he hadn’t been subjected to anything that would cause permanent injury, but if his kidnappers took things up a level to force Nina to cooperate…

That was possibly the only thing keeping him alive. They needed him to make Nina do something for them. Without him, they would lose their hold on her. Was there any way he could turn that to his advantage?

Before he could think any more about it, Raddick checked his watch. ‘I’m gonna get something to eat. You want anything?’

‘Chicken wings and fries,’ Berman answered.

‘I’ll have a burger if you’re going,’ Eddie piped up.

Raddick ignored him and headed for the exterior door. He had a brief exchange with the man outside, then a car started up and drove away.

Irton still seemed to be on the phone. If he kept talking…

‘Chicken, eh?’ Eddie said to Berman. ‘Isn’t that cannibalism? You’re kind of a chickenshit yourself.’

The blond rounded on him. ‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me. Fucking coward. You’ll slap someone who’s tied to a chair, but when it comes to an actual fight, you’d shit yourself so hard your ribcage’d implode.’

Berman stepped up to him angrily. ‘Screw you, Limey. I was in the United States Army. I’m no coward, I’ve seen action.’

Eddie snorted sarcastically. ‘Yeah, right. I bet it’s a non-stop adrenalin rush in the fucking typing pool.’ He put on a bad, nasal American accent. ‘If we don’t get that toner cartridge changed in the next five minutes, there’ll be hell to pay!’

‘Shut up.’

‘I got a paper cut, give me a Purple Heart!’

‘Shut up!’ Berman’s hand cracked across his face.

‘That the best you’ve got?’ said Eddie, giving him a sneering grin. ‘My niece could hit me harder than that. When she was six.’

The hand clenched into a fist. ‘You wanna see the best I’ve got?’ growled the American, slamming it against Eddie’s jaw.

The Englishman’s head snapped back, blood squirting from a split lip — then he convulsed, mouth gaping as choking gurgles came from it. Berman stared dismissively down at him, only for his expression to change to concern as he realised his captive couldn’t breathe.

‘Oh, shit. Dammit, shit, shit!’ he hissed, panic rising at the thought that he might have killed a vital prisoner. A glance at the door, but he didn’t call to Irton, instead pulling the struggling man upright in a desperate effort to clear his airway.

It had no effect. Eyes wide, Eddie shuddered, tongue squirming… then fell limp in his seat, head lolling to one side.

‘Shit!’ Berman hesitated, then checked Eddie’s neck for a pulse. He moved his fingertips across the skin, not sure of the result. Another look towards the door in fear that Irton might choose this moment to return, then he leaned closer to listen for the other man’s breath—

Eddie lunged at him and sank his teeth into his throat.

Berman tried to scream, but the Englishman had clamped his jaw around his Adam’s apple with the frenzied determination of a terrier, crushing his windpipe shut. He lashed and clawed at his attacker’s face, but the teeth only dug in harder—

With a final growl of fury, Eddie forced his jaw shut. A horrible crunch came from Berman’s neck, and he lurched backwards, a ragged, gore-spouting hole where his larynx had been. Eddie spat out a revolting hunk of torn tissue as Berman fell to the filthy floor, blood gushing down his chest.

The wounded man opened his mouth to cry out, but the only sound that emerged was a wet wheeze. He rolled on to his front, dragging himself towards Irton’s torture equipment.

Eddie realised his intention. Berman wasn’t trying to find a weapon, but something he could use to make a loud noise and alert his boss.

He threw himself from side to side, the chair’s frame creaking in protest. His previous attempts to break loose had been halted by his captors, but with nobody to stop him, it only took seconds before metal cracked. The frame shifted beneath him, but the chair was still chained to the floor.

Eddie rocked forward to put his weight on to his feet. He strained with all his might, trying to stand. The underside of the chair’s back dug into his bound arms. He felt something give, a bolt or screw breaking loose…

Berman reached one of the cases—

The seat back ripped away.

Eddie sprang upright. But his ankles were still tied to the chair’s legs. All he could do was fall bodily on to the other man.

The landing knocked the breath from him — but Berman came off worse as his face was pounded against the dirty concrete. Eddie twisted, kicking at the broken chair as it strained against the chain. One of the ties slipped from the bottom of the tubular leg. Partially freed, the Englishman rolled and scrambled to his feet.

Berman raised his head, spitting blood. His fingers clawed at the case of torture gear—

Eddie’s foot slammed against the side of his skull. Berman fell limp as a last bubbling exhalation gurgled from the gruesome rent in his throat.

Regaining his balance, Eddie slid the other restraint loose and booted the chair away. His hands remained cuffed behind his back. He had to get free, fast; if Irton had heard the scuffle…

He still had blood in his mouth. Hoping it was all Berman’s, he brought his arms to his right side as he leaned his head back over that shoulder and spat the liquid over the cuffs. Then he pulled them as far apart as he could and bent down, straining to force them over his hips.

The metal bracelets bit savagely into his wrists. But the pain was nothing compared to what Irton had already put him through. His blood-slicked forearms slithered over his jeans as he writhed to work them lower, every millimetre of progress a battle. The handcuff chain reached his hip bone, but his arms were stretched to their limit.

He pushed harder. A burst of pain — then suddenly the chain jerked past the obstruction. He breathed hard, but knew the worst was over. His military training had taught him how to escape from numerous forms of restraint, although he found himself wishing for the flexibility of his younger self.

He dropped to a crouch, then rolled on to his back, drawing up one leg to bring his foot over the chain. The metal links rasped over the ridged sole of his boot, catching for a moment… then popping free. Eddie gasped in relief. Getting his other foot out was considerably easier. He jumped upright. His wrists were still cuffed, but he was almost infinitely more capable — and dangerous — now that they were no longer pinned behind his back.

Berman had stopped breathing. Eddie gave him a cursory glance that contained zero sympathy, then checked the case. The unnerving collection of CIA-approved torture implements shone in the cold lamplight. None were of any use to him right now.

But one of the rusty machines had what he needed.

He hurried to it and pulled loose a handle; a hefty corrosion-scabbed metal bar about two feet long. Wielding it like a baseball bat, he ran to the entrance and took up position to one side. A faint electrical hum reached him from outside, but he couldn’t hear any voices. Had Irton finished his call?

Footsteps, frighteningly close, told him that he had.

The door opened. Irton stepped through, phone still in his hand. Shock crossed his face as he saw that the room was not as he had left it—

Eddie swung the metal bar.

Irton’s reactions were good, his right arm snapping up to ward off the blow — but not good enough. The crack of the phone’s screen shattering and the dull thud of the club striking first his hand and then his abdomen were almost simultaneous. He collapsed to his knees, winded.

‘Ay up!’ Eddie snarled as he slammed the bar down on the other man’s shoulders, knocking him flat. ‘Remember me, you bastard?’ He kicked the fallen American hard in the side, then crouched to search his pockets.

Wallet, loose change, key ring. Eddie examined the keys. The smallest was for the handcuffs. He unlocked the bracelets and with huge relief tossed them aside, kneading the deep red grooves in his skin.

He checked the wallet. It contained a Nevada driver’s licence in the name of Walter Jefferson Irton, a credit card in the same name, about two hundred dollars in banknotes and a small wad of receipts. ‘So you’re a torturer who claims expenses?’ he asked. Irton made no reply.

A flick through the tabs showed that most of them were for convenience stores and fast-food joints in Brooklyn. There was also a parking receipt for the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Was that where he was, across the East River from Manhattan? Eddie glanced at the door, considering making a run for it before Raddick returned, but changed his mind. He might be free, but whoever these people were, they still had Nina.

He hauled Irton bodily back into the illuminated circle and slammed him against the dirty wooden bench, knocking the laptop to the floor and toppling the camera’s tripod. ‘Oi! Wake up!’ Irton opened his pain-filled eyes. ‘Where’s Nina, and what do you lot want with her?’

His only response was a malevolent glare. ‘Okay, so you’re not going to tell me anything,’ said the Yorkshireman. ‘Good job there’s all this stuff I can use to make you talk.’ He gestured at the equipment cases.

The American’s face betrayed a moment of fear, but it was immediately replaced by defiance. ‘You won’t break me,’ he growled. ‘I can withstand pain for days if I have to. I was trained by the best.’

‘Funny, so was I, and I don’t remember seeing you at Hereford.’ He made as if to turn away — then smashed a fist into Irton’s face before ramming his head down on to the table. ‘How’s the withstanding going?’

Irton spat out blood and a broken tooth. ‘Fuck you!’

‘Oh, you’re using rude words now? Guess that must have hurt.’ He stood behind the other man. ‘Where’s Nina?’

‘Go to hell!’

Eddie kicked him hard behind one knee. Irton cried out as his leg buckled, hands splayed across the wooden surface to hold himself up. ‘See, the thing is,’ the Englishman said, ‘you’ve been trained in all this enhanced interrogation bollocks — waterboarding, electrics, stress positions, psych stuff. Break the mind, not the body, that’s the idea, right? Now me, I’m not that subtle.’ He again regarded the equipment in the cases, then spotted something better amongst the debris on the floor and picked it up. ‘This is more my style. Last chance: where’s my wife?’

Breath hissing through his clenched and bloodied teeth, Irton glared at him over one shoulder. ‘Go fuck yourself, Chase. You think you can break me? Not a—’

A grimy hammer smashed down claw-first on his left hand with such force that it dug into the wood under his palm. Irton screamed and flailed, but was pinned in place. ‘I can break that,’ Eddie said coldly. ‘Tell me where Nina is, now.’

He twisted the hammer. Irton made a keening sound, face clenched in pain, but said nothing. Eddie frowned — then grabbed Irton’s left wrist before yanking the tool free and flipping it around. The torturer tried to pull away, but the Englishman held him in place and pounded the hammer down on to each of his knuckles. Bone cracked. Irton wailed in agony.

‘Where is she?’ Eddie yelled, letting go. The American crumpled to the floor, clutching his mangled hand. ‘Talk to me!’ He stood over Irton, waving the bloodied hammer in his face. ‘Tell me why you’ve kidnapped Nina, or I’ll take your other fucking hand off!’

‘All right! All right!’ Irton gasped. ‘Stop, stop, oh God! I’ll tell you!’

Eddie gave him two seconds to compose himself. ‘Come on, then.’

‘God!’ He strained to force out the words. ‘Our leader, the Prophet — he needs her to find the angels from the Book of Revelation.’

‘What do you mean, angels? The guys with wings and trumpets?’

‘No, they’re… they’re statues, hidden away. The Prophet found one of them, and he’s trying to find the other three. The clues are in the Book of Revelation. He knows what to look for, but he needs an archaeologist to tell him where to look.’

Eddie frowned. ‘Why Nina? He could have just paid someone to do that. Why kidnap her?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t!’ Irton protested as the Englishman raised the hammer. ‘The Prophet chose your wife for a reason, but he didn’t share it with us.’

‘He’ll share it with me if I get my fucking hands on him. Where is he?’

‘At the Mission.’

‘And where’s that?’

Irton took another breath, eyes turning defiant once more. He was willing to endure more pain rather than give up the location. Eddie hefted the hammer again—

A bang from the entrance. Eddie spun. Raddick was back, arms laden with bags of takeaway food. ‘Okay, I got your—’

He froze as he took in the scene. ‘Shit!’ he gasped, throwing down the food and fumbling inside his coat for a gun—

Eddie hurled the hammer.

Raddick had just got the gun clear of its holster when the steel claws smacked into his forehead with a sickening crack. He fell backwards, the tool embedded in his skull.

Eddie whirled back towards Irton — as the American leapt up and shoulder-barged him, sending him stumbling into one of the lamps and falling painfully on to his side. He scrambled upright, readying himself for an attack, but instead saw Irton run into the darkness of the empty building.

‘Shit!’ He hurried after him. The American was limping from the kick to his knee, but after more than a day tied to a chair, Eddie was little faster, muscles stiff and aching.

But he had to catch him. With both Berman and Raddick dead, Irton was his only link to Nina.

He followed the noise of the American’s footsteps. Dim light appeared ahead through grimy windows high on the walls. A new sound reached him, a frantic clatter. Irton was climbing a metal staircase. Eddie made out the structure rising diagonally across the back wall and hurried to it, vaulting up the steps two at a time.

His quarry reached the top. A door was kicked open. Eddie saw Irton briefly outlined by the stark pinkish-orange glow of industrial sodium lights before he ducked out of sight.

He got to the door a few seconds later. Would Irton attack him as he came through? A split-second judgement: no, he was fleeing — flight, not fight. He booted the door and rushed outside.

Cold wind hit him as he emerged on a rooftop. Grim industrial blocks rose ahead. Where was Irton?

Off to the left, hobbling for the roof’s nearest edge. Eddie raced after him. There was an electrical substation below, the dull hum of transformers growing louder. He had to be heading for a fire escape…

Shock as Eddie realised that he wasn’t. There was nothing but a sheer fifty-foot drop. Irton wasn’t just willing to suffer to protect his boss; he would make the ultimate sacrifice.

‘No you bloody don’t!’ gasped Eddie, fighting through his own pain to run faster. Irton was twenty feet from the edge, ten…

He reached it just as Eddie dived at him.

The Englishman landed hard at the very lip of the roof, grabbing at Irton, but only managing to catch his left arm as he fell towards the substation. The torturer’s sleeve slithered through his fingers—

One hand locked around Irton’s wrist.

The American shrieked as smashed bones ground together, crushing nerves. Eddie tried to get a hold with his other hand, but Irton’s weight was dragging him over the edge. He had no choice but to use it instead to brace himself… and the thrashing man started to slip through his grip.

‘Where is she?’ he yelled. Irton looked back at him, fear in his eyes behind the pain. Another nauseating crunch, and Eddie felt his opponent’s mutilated hand slipping further through his own. He squeezed harder, but knew it was a losing battle. ‘Tell me where Nina is, and I’ll help you—’

Snap!

Bone broke, skin tearing with a hot gush of blood — and Eddie found himself holding nothing but a severed finger.

Irton plunged, screaming, to be impaled on the prongs of a transformer below. Sparks exploded from it, searing electrical discharges lancing out as the high-voltage current set his body aflame. Eddie jerked back as something overloaded and blew apart with a detonation that shook the building. The substation’s lights flickered, then died, along with those of all the other nearby buildings.

‘He went out with a bang,’ Eddie muttered, furious as much with himself for not maintaining his hold as with Irton for taking Nina’s whereabouts to the grave. Still clutching the finger, he stood and turned back towards the door… and for the first time saw where he was.

The skyscrapers of Manhattan glittered like cubic galaxies across the dark waters of the East River. His guess that he was in Brooklyn had been right. A bridge loomed to his left behind buildings; he had lived in New York City long enough to recognise it immediately as the Manhattan Bridge. That put him somewhere in Brooklyn’s Vinegar Hill district.

He looked to the right along the river. The lights of the Williamsburg Bridge spanned the waters about a mile away. A moment of surprise at an unexpected yet impressive sight closer by: the massive airship that he had seen from Harvey Zampelli’s helicopter was coming in to land for the night. Its temporary home was the nearby Brooklyn Navy Yard, the decommissioned military facility that was now an industrial park and movie studio. Advertising slogans flashed across its bulbous side, their very mundanity giving him a bizarre sense of relief. Whatever was going on, he had survived it, and returned to the real world.

The feeling lasted barely a moment. He was free, but the mysterious Prophet still had Nina — and he had absolutely no idea where. Somewhere in the tropics was all she had been able to tell him. That didn’t really narrow it down.

Another retort from the substation. He had to get away from what would very soon become a crime scene; the explosion would bring first the fire department, then the cops. Whatever Irton and the others were doing, they had given the definite impression that it was on the clock. He couldn’t afford to waste time being arrested and interrogated by the NYPD.

Fortunately, he had friends in the police.

‘Eddie?’

‘Down here,’ he said, cautiously stepping out from behind a dumpster to greet the woman. ‘Hi, Amy.’

Detective Amy Martin of the New York Police Department brought up her flashlight to regard him with shock. ‘Jesus, Eddie! What the hell happened to you?’

He had retrieved his leather jacket and other belongings including his phone from the abandoned warehouse, but the garment couldn’t disguise that he was covered in blood. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not mine. Most of it.’

‘That’s what I’m scared of!’ The dark-haired young cop came down the alley for a better look at him. ‘Are you okay? What’s going on?’

‘I’m not sure myself. But you know there was an explosion a couple of blocks from here?’

‘Yeah, I heard about it over the radio just after you phoned—’ She broke off in dismay. ‘Oh man. Don’t tell me that was you.’

‘Not… directly.’

‘’Cause they found a body.’

‘Yeah, and they’ll find another two in the factory next to it.’

Amy shook her head and sighed. ‘God. What is it with you? What happened?’

‘Short version: I was kidnapped, but got away. But Nina was kidnapped too, and they’ve still got her.’

Her eyes went wide. ‘Kidnapped?’

‘Off the street outside our apartment. I was tied up in a warehouse being tortured until about half an hour ago.’ He pulled up his shirt to reveal lurid bruises. ‘I need your help, Amy. I’ve got to find Nina, but I can’t do that if the cops take me in for questioning. I need you to cover for me.’

‘Cover for you! People have died, Eddie — it’s kinda hard to sweep that under the rug.’ She eyed him. ‘Did you kill them?’

‘Yeah, but in self-defence. And the third one, I was trying to save him — he jumped off the roof rather than give up where they’d taken Nina.’ He saw that she was still struggling to process his first admission. ‘Come on, Amy! You know me. And you know the kind of stuff I keep getting dragged into.’

‘But you don’t even work for the IHA any more!’

‘I bloody know! But whoever these arseholes were, it won’t be long before their boss realises his torture team isn’t answering his calls any more. Soon as he knows I’ve escaped…’

‘They might hurt Nina,’ she finished for him.

‘Yeah. She’s pregnant, Amy — I’m not going to let them do anything to her or our baby.’

Her eyes widened. ‘She’s pregnant?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Congratulations! And thanks for telling me when I saw you last,’ she added with considerable sarcasm.

‘I was busy chasing a Nazi!’ he protested. ‘Anyway, look — I promise you that as soon as Nina’s safe, I’ll tell the NYPD everything that happened.’ He glanced down the alley as an emergency vehicle swept past, lights strobing. ‘But right now, I need you to run interference.’

‘Interference!’ she hooted. ‘This is going to turn into a murder investigation. If I interfere, I could do more than lose my job — I could go to jail!’

‘Amy, please!’ He fixed his eyes on hers. ‘You trust me, don’t you?’

‘Oh, please, don’t pull that card, Eddie,’ she cried. ‘You know I do! You saved the whole damn city.’ It had taken his drastic physical intervention to prevent a nuclear device from being detonated at the end of Wall Street, his arm still scarred as a result. ‘Everyone in New York owes you, and… and I just talked myself into helping you, didn’t I?’ She tipped her head back and let out a groan to the sky.

He grinned. ‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t thank me yet. There’s only so much I can do, even as a detective — and,’ she warned, ‘only so much I’m willing to do. I’m not going to lie for you.’

‘I’m not asking you to.’ They started back down the alley towards her car. ‘For now, just get me to the UN — no, wait, take me home first. I want to check the apartment. And see if there’s been anything reported about Nina or me being kidnapped. If someone saw me get Tasered and dragged into a van, that should be enough to tell the cops I was the victim. And if there isn’t a report on Nina’s kidnapping, start one!’

They reached the car. More flashing lights were visible down the street outside the derelict building. ‘Okay, get in,’ Amy said unhappily. He climbed inside as she took the wheel. ‘These kidnappers — do you have any idea who they are?’

‘No, but you can check if their prints are on file.’

A confused look. ‘How?’

Eddie held up the severed digit. ‘I’ll give you the finger.’