Luke Delaney - The Network

‘Never when I’m behind bars,’ Conway answered. ‘Inside it’s a weakness — a tool you can be controlled by, bribed and threatened with. I won’t be controlled by anyone or anything.’

Finally the two searchers stepped away. ‘He’s fine,’ one told Conway.

‘Of course he is,’ Conway said, the familiar grin spreading across his face as he stepped forward and wrapped a hand around the back of Sean’s neck while placing the other on his shoulder. ‘Sorry about that,’ he apologized, ‘but this can be a dangerous world for men like us.’

‘I understand,’ Sean answered.

‘It’s good to see you,’ Conway continued, gently shaking Sean as he spoke, as if greeting a long-lost and much-loved brother.

‘It’s good to see you too,’ Sean lied. ‘I was beginning to think you’d never contact me.’

‘Patience. Men like us must have patience, Justin, and you are a man like us, aren’t you?’

‘I think so,’ Sean stuttered making Conway and the others laugh.

‘Well then, let’s find out.’ Conway turned and headed for the warehouse entrance, two of the minders following close behind while the others waited for Sean to move. When he did they filed in behind him and trailed after the others. ‘Keep up,’ Conway cheerfully called over his shoulder and burst through the front door into the building — the darkness spilling from inside. Sean felt an almost unbearable tension spread across his body as they walked along the dark corridors, the occasional ray of light breaking through windows that had been painted black, the sound of running water from broken pipes seemingly everywhere, and the floor beneath his feet riddled with deep puddles.

‘Where we going?’ he asked the men, but no one answered. ‘Is it much further?’ He tried to break the silence again. One of the minders behind him responded by shoving him in the back, just hard enough to make him stumble forward a little.

‘Shut up and keep walking,’ the minder said.

‘Be careful,’ Conway told him over his shoulder, his head only slightly turned. ‘He’s important to me.’ His words did nothing to calm Sean’s unease. What did he know? What did he know?

Suddenly the front two minders stopped and stood either side of a doorway that Conway walked straight through, a dull artificial light leaking from the room.

‘In there,’ the aggressive minder told him. Sean joined Conway inside what had once been a small office, the source of the light a portable electric lamp perched atop an ancient desk that had been pushed up against the far wall. The desk also held a television and DVD player. All of the appliances were plugged into a small mobile generator. One old swivel chair sat in the middle of the room facing the television. Sean could imagine people being tortured in this room, but could see no instruments of pain or other weapons — bizarrely, just a box of tissues next to the television. When he scanned the floor for signs of blood all he could see were more tissues — used, screwed up and discarded. Oh shit he said in his mind, unsure whether or not he’d actually spoken. The unwavering smile on Conway’s face reassured him he hadn’t.

‘Excited?’ Conway asked.

‘More wondering why we’re here?’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘No,’ Sean half lied.

‘This,’ Conway told him, sweeping his hand around the room, ‘is where we do our editing. The work can be very stimulating. Sometimes over-stimulating. Do you want to see some of it?’

Sean swallowed deeply, staring at the blank television screen that reflected his own image. Two of the minders entered the room and stood in the corners behind him, their excitement tenable. ‘Your work?’ Sean asked, stalling the inevitable and risking his cover at the same time. He felt a sheen of sweat forming above his top lip.

‘Yes, Justin — our work. Do you want to see it?’

He had no choice. ‘Yes. I want to see it,’ he answered, his mind whirling with possibilities of what would happen next — what would appear on the screen and how he would he react. What could he say to convince them — to excuse his lack of a physical response? He tried to think of Kate — think of them being together as they had been so quickly after first meeting each other, neither able to resist the pull of the other. He tried to recall the curve of her breasts, the taste of her lips and scent of her golden skin, but his own damned reflection in the television screen chased her away. He felt his testicles coiling and withering at the thought of what he was about to see.

‘Of course you do,’ Conway told him, his eyes never leaving Sean’s as his outstretched hand found the TV on-switch first time, the screen blinking bright blue, the words written across it complaining of no signal being received. For a second Sean dared to believe that the equipment had malfunctioned and he had been spared, but Conway’s hand drifted to the DVD player and pressed the on-switch with a degree of theatre, turning the screen dark grey. ‘Ready?’ he asked. Sean nodded slowly. ‘Good, then I shall begin.’ He pressed play and leaned back, arms folded as he watched Sean watching the film.

It was almost exactly the same as the film DS Chopra had given him to watch, but he could tell it was in a different location — a large room in a house somewhere, with old chairs and sofas scattered around where the men in animal masks and naked children twisted together. And the children were different too — about the same age as the others and the same mix of boys-to-girls — but definitely different. And just as in the other film, the thing that disturbed him most was the lack of fear and stress amongst the children — performing terrible acts and having terrible acts performed on them, yet behaving as if it was perfectly normal. They were brainwashed and bribed into believing they were having no wrong done to them — praised and rewarded like they’d never been praised and rewarded before — innocent childhoods stolen from them by manipulating monsters. One of the boys smiled broadly in between performing an act for one of the men — the man’s voice on the television telling him he what a good boy he was. The smiling face almost made Sean vomit. He could feel his skin becoming clammy, making him thankful for the gloom of the room and the pale light cast from the screen, but all the same Conway’s sixth sense told him all was not as he’d expected.

Sean looked away from the screen, but as Conway moved slowly towards him, his anxiety grew and he found himself sinking deeply into the small chair. Conway cupped Sean’s chin in the palm of his hand before running his fingers through his hair as he moved behind him, one arm wrapping gently around his neck while the hand of the other arm snaked down the front of Sean’s torso, detecting the thumping of Sean’s heart as it passed over, unable to tell yet whether it was fear or excitement.

Sean felt frozen and impotent as the hand moved towards his groin, too many nightmarish images of his childhood and father robbing him of the ability to react. He felt the hand cradle his genitalia, the limpness making Conway recoil as if he’d had an electric shock. The minders sprang to attention, pinning Sean to the chair — an arm tight around his neck and knee pressed into his chest. He had difficulty just drawing breath.

‘No more games,’ Conway spoke loudly without shouting. ‘Who are you?’

‘You know who I am,’ Sean managed to answer, his words gasped and ragged as the arm stayed tight around his neck. ‘I’m Justin Cramer — I’m Unicorn.’

‘Then what’s wrong with the film?’ Conway demanded.

‘Nothing,’ Sean told him, his mind racing for a way out of the situation. ‘Nothing’s wrong with it.’