“Where’s my guardian?” Will said, groggily.
Pardoe had smiled. “You, sir, never had a guardian. But you’d make a very good guardian for someone else.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Will said, and turned away from their conversation.
“Well,” Pardoe sighed, moving to the window where he teased open the net curtain with his little finger. “I’ve known you, Sean, for a long time. I was detailed to shadow you from your fifteenth birthday, a couple of years after we lost you. You know, when you ran away from home.” He put his hand to his face and rubbed a while. “God,” he whispered. “I thought there’d never be a time when I had to tell you this. I thought the links were down. I thought the territory had been barred.”
Sean heard something squeaking stertorously but couldn’t be bothered to show surprise when he realised it was the sound of his own breathing. Deliberately, he walked to the sideboard and pulled Will’s gun from the drawer. Turning, he pointed it at Pardoe’s head. Pardoe was ice.
Emma said, “Who’s we?”
Sean and Pardoe ignored her. Sean said, “You know about my parents?”
A nod.
“You killed them? What? You worked with them?” He was getting jittery. Sean had never trained a gun on anybody before and he did not like it one bit. In the Force, he had done a little target practice, but had never taken it seriously. A rookie, he was a long way off being considered for armed service.
Emma said: “What about your parents?”
Now Pardoe held up a hand. “I don’t know about any of that. We didn’t know your father was involved with anyone or had deals with anyone. We were trying to track down people with, ah, a strong constitution.”
“What are you talking about?” Sean asked, his bead on Pardoe already wavering. Although he didn’t understand what the man was saying, he understood him to be innocent. Somehow he was as familiar as the jacket Sean had owned for ten years.
Emma’s first question caught up with him and he echoed it. “Who’s we?”
Pardoe did not answer. Clearly he had rehearsed this moment for some time, and his delivery was as dead and level as his hands were active, moving against each other, lightly greased with his perspiration. “You were the vanguard of a special project funded by a secret… society,” he said. “At the age of thirteen, as you reached puberty, it was decreed that you would be controlled, killed, and sent on your mission. You too, Emma. And a girl called Naomi.”
At this, Will turned his attention back to Pardoe. His face was alclass="underline" What have I got myself into now?
Sean dropped the gun to his side. He suddenly looked very weak. “Naomi? Killed? Mission? Jesus, Pardoe I—”
“There was a man. A very important, very dangerous man called de Fleche. He disappeared. To a place he should not have gone to. We had to track him and bring him back, or… things would have become really not very nice. That’s when we started work tracking down suitable Inserts. The first wave we tried either died or were trapped inside. With hindsight, I suppose we put them in too early, before their training was completed, before we really knew what we were dealing with. But you… you were the true vanguards. You took to the Negstreams like a babe to the teat.”
“Negstreams? What the fu—”
Pardoe silenced Will with a wave of his hand. “I’ll fill you in on Negstreams some other time. For now, I reckon it’s important you find out who you are. Or rather, that you remember who you are.”
“Who was it tried to kill me? Weird woman she was. Coming apart at the seams like something made out of wax.”
“Ah,” Pardoe said. “I didn’t know about her. That makes things a bit trickier, it has to be said.”
“Who is she?” asked Emma.
“Well, I don’t know specifically, but she sounds like Canaille to me.”
“Can I?” Will said. “Can you what?”
“Canaille,” Pardoe enunciated. He spelled out the word.
“Like that’s supposed to mean anything to me?” Will sat up, his face hard-edged.
“You’ve drawn a blank with us too,” Sean said.
“Our opposing forces have a knack, shall we say. There’s a way of plucking from the ether certain individuals who, crude as they are to begin with, have skills that are above and beyond anything you or I could boast. Give them a little time and they can hone these skills until they are ultra-sharp. We are talking about extremely dangerous killing machines. Sorry to get all horrorshow about it, but there you are.”
“Plucked from the ether?” Emma said the words as if they were the magical combination with which to invoke a spirit.
“After a fashion, yes.” Pardoe rubbed his hands together, clearly delighted with the prospect. “They need a way in, it has to be said. A physical entry. This usually will be an expectant mother. Not that there’s much hope for mum or child once the Canaille individual has borrowed that route into the world.”
“I don’t fucking believe this,” Sean said, the words coming hard and nasty, curling his lip.
“Believe it,” Will said, quietly. “I saw it happen. I saw her. I remember her. They called her something. Cheke, I think it was.”
“Cheke. Yes, that’s one of the swine. We know about Cheke.”
Emma’s face bore the look of someone who had eaten something sour. “It has a name?”
“Of course.” Pardoe seemed put out. “We’ll have to watch out for her. Do not underestimate her. She might seem a bit ungainly at the moment, but she will grow into her role. She is a supreme talent, make no mistake. She will improve.”
“You sound like you admire her,” Will said, bitterly.
“Oh, I do. I do. She is to the land what the shark is to water. She has few peers. Be alert, my friends. You must be very, very careful. I can’t emphasise that enough. She’ll do for you all if you aren’t.”
Pardoe’s jaw clenched and relaxed as a silence wadded the air between them. Into it, Sean whispered: “Why are you telling us all this?”
“As I was saying, there were three of you, three Negstream Inserts,” Pardoe continued. “I thought that only Sean had survived. But his running into you, Emma, sounded the alarm bells. It’s like there’s some kind of, shall we say, ripple when Inserts get together. It’s there. Very strong too. If you know how to look for it.”
Inserts. That word again. Sean liked that. Not one bit. He returned to the cupboard, put down the gun, and withdrew a bottle of Absolut.
“Sit down,” he said. “Tell us everything. But don’t expect me to stay sober.”
It was almost five a.m. by the time Pardoe finished. Sean and Emma and Will had drunk most of the vodka; the bottle lay stoppered on the floor between them pointing out through a window that was gradually filling with chalky streaks of light. Pardoe had refused to drink with them. He told them he would wait in his car, an olive-green Jaguar that was parked in the street, for as long as it took for them to feel comfortable enough about the situation to join him. He would take them somewhere safe. Where they lived at the moment was not safe. Outside elements were closing in. It was time to move.
Unspoken questions fluttered around Sean’s mind but their urgency had been tempered by Pardoe’s gentle voice and his unheralded, understated revelations. Sean’s unease about Pardoe had vanished before the knowledge that he had found an ally for the first time in his life. It helped to be told that Naomi had been a part of it, something that he instinctively knew to be true, as it was with Emma.
Hadn’t he always felt something different? A calling, a significance that plucked at his imagination, like a dream that refused to be remembered? Hadn’t he always possessed the dead zone of what had happened to his parents without ever fully understanding the source of it? It was a dark land that he returned to whenever he slept. He had always thought that the knots in which he was trapped were for him alone to pick at. He never believed the knot might be solved by someone else. Having a discussion that involved his parents, people he had not referred to in public for as many years as they had been dead, made him feel sick.