Luke Delaney - The Network

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Sean told him and hung up, hiding the phone back under the bed. It wouldn’t do to have it found by Conway or The Network if they were to spring a surprise visit on him. At last it was happening — coming to a finale. All he had to do was get to the meet and let them lead him by the nose to the location where the children were being held, activate the alarm signal on the tracker, sit back and let the arrest team do the rest. Once Conway and his followers were taken out he’d head straight back to the flat, clean it out of anything belonging to him or the police and head straight back to New Scotland Yard for a de-brief with SO10. After that, Justin Cramer could finally rest in peace and he could be Sean Corrigan again. Go home to his own flat in Crystal Palace and a night with Kate, followed by the slow mental process of trying to return to normal — thinking like an everyday cop and not the half-cop half-criminal thing he’d become. Not that he’d never truly think like an everyday cop. His past had ensured that.

Shortly before four p.m. the next day Sean eased the Ford Zodiac along Wetheral Road towards the sports ground. The car park was deserted except for the beaten up old Ford Scorpio he recognized from the meet at the warehouse and another beaten up old machine. There was no sign of Conway’s vintage Jaguar — clearly Sheenan’s boys had been true to their word and disabled it. But apart from the empty cars there was no sign of life. ‘Christ,’ Sean told himself. ‘Now what?’ He pulled the car up close to the others and stopped, but kept the engine running, searching the ground around him for places the men could be hiding.

Suddenly they appeared, from around the corners of the buildings, from behind trees and industrial-sized recycling bins. Six in total, heading towards him, all wearing the same balaclava masks and all carrying some type of weapon — baseball bats and machetes hanging from their hands like the swords of medieval knights just before the battle commences. ‘Fuck,’ he swore as he scrambled to grab the car-key fob that dangled from the ignition — one press and the signal would be sent to the arrest team commanding them to move in as fast as they could. They know. They know. Save yourself and press the alarm. Do it and do it now . But he couldn’t do it — couldn’t make his finger and thumb pinch the fob and call for urgent assistance, no matter how close the armed men came, no matter how threatening they looked. Bluff it out. They don’t know anything. It’s just part of the test . He turned off the ignition and stepped from the car, holding the fob between his fingers and his hands above his head. ‘There’s no need for this,’ he told the men. ‘You know who I am.’ He watched them as they approached, trying to tell which could be Conway by the way they moved. He was sure he wasn’t amongst them — although he could feel he was close by.

A man holding a baseball-bat spoke first. ‘Get down on your knees — hands behind your head or I’ll cave it in.’

‘Where’s John?’ Sean asked, fearful of the more cautious members of The Sanctum — like the man back at the warehouse who’d wanted to get rid of him. He needed Conway to be here, sure he could still manipulate him. ‘He’s supposed to meet me here.’

‘Get on your knees and shut up,’ the same man told him. Slowly Sean did as he was told, the gut-wrenching possibility that he’d been set up by the other members of The Sanctum who wanted him gone dawning on him. Somehow they’d got hold of Conway’s phone and used it to text him — luring him into their trap. Press the alarm he ordered his finger and thumb, but still they wouldn’t. Maybe the other members of The Sanctum had already got rid of Conway. A leadership coup by the men in balaclavas. ‘I know what you are,’ the faceless man continued. ‘You’re a fucking grass. A police informant.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Sean told him sounding as strong as he could. ‘I did time with John — he’ll vouch for me.’

‘Then you’re a plant.’

‘No. I’m part of The Network. I’ve never told anybody anything.’

‘Then you’re a cop,’ he accused him, turning Sean’s blood to frozen crystals, robbing him of the last breath in his lungs. ‘An undercover cop.’

Sean managed to shake his head feigning disbelief. ‘You’re a fool,’ he bluffed. ‘I’ve been in The Network since it began. How could I be a cop?’ The balaclava rested the sole of his shoe on Sean’s chest and kicked him backwards onto the floor. Press the alarm. They know. Press the alarm .

‘Because no one’s ever seen you,’ the man shouted. ‘The Unicorn could have been a cop all along — trying to infiltrate us.’

‘No,’ Sean argued. ‘That’s not possible.’

‘Why?’ the balaclava demanded. ‘Why’s that not possible?’

‘Because I’ve been circulating images of children for years. Images those who don’t understand us say are illegal. Cops aren’t allowed to commit crimes — even if they’re trying to infiltrate people — people like us.’

‘You seem to know a lot about it,’ the man accused him, lifting the baseball-bat high above his head in readiness to strike. Sean’s finger and thumb poised to squeeze the fob, until a voice froze him.

‘That’s a very nice car you have there,’ Conway told the gathering, his voice calm amongst the storm. ‘I didn’t know you were a car man?’

‘One of my more conventional interests,’ Sean answered.

Conway made a dismissive gesture to the man standing over Sean with the baseball-bat that prompted him to lower his weapon and back away. ‘This really is a beauty,’ Conway told him, admiring the old Zodiac. ‘Tell me, Justin — do you know what sign of the Zodiac I am?’

‘No,’ Sean admitted, puzzled.

‘Scorpio,’ Conway told him, ‘which is also the astrological symbol for death. Did you know that?’

‘No,’ Sean repeated.

‘Out there in deep space,’ Conway explained, ‘hundreds of light-years away there’s an area known as The Heart of the Scorpion, or The Graveyard of the Stars. You see, Justin, even stars have to die — eventually.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Sean answered, guessing Conway wanted it that way — the king ruling over his ignorant subjects.

‘Of course you don’t,’ Conway told him. ‘Get up.’ Sean did as he was told, brushing the dust and dirt from his clothes as he scrambled to his feet, keeping an eye on the balaclava with the bat in his peripheral vision. ‘I need to show you something,’ Conway continued. ‘I’m going to take you somewhere very … special.’

‘Why?’ Sean asked. ‘Why me?’ At that moment, Sean’s own need to know what Conway saw in him was far stronger than his detective’s instinct to find out the truth about The Network. How could a monster such as Conway seemingly want him as a friend ? He may have been using the name Justin Cramer, his past and habits, but it was Sean who Conway seemed to empathize with and he needed to know why.

‘Because we’re the same — not like these others,’ Conway gestured to the men in balaclavas. ‘They have no imagination — just needs which they satisfy with the crudeness of a rutting pig. I’m the one who makes it special. Without me there would be no Network — there would be no Sanctum. But you’re different — I can see it in you, smell it on you.’

‘What?’ Sean asked hungrily. ‘What do you see?’

Conway laughed as he answered. ‘I see myself, Justin. I see myself.’ Sean felt the nausea rising in his stomach, the blood rushing from his head leaving him pale and clammy, dizzy, his vision blurred. ‘It’s time to expand The Network. You grow or you die and to grow I need you. That’s why I have to know if I can trust you. Trust you with my life.’