Hope & Fury (Heroes & Demons Book 2)

Rain in England, especially Manchester, was like thorns on a rose. Annoying, perhaps; but an essential part of the overall whole. As Dr Nate Steele rushed quickly through the streets pouring with the worst kind of heavy rain, he didn’t grumble. A few months in the sun-drenched Mediterranean had made him somewhat nostalgic for the feeling of cold rain running down the back of his neck despite his coat collar turned up. He had hungered for the fresh clean feel of water running down his cheeks that wasn’t cracked with the salty feeling of the sea.

He had missed the splash of his footsteps as he moved through the streets with a practised sense of direction. He had taken the first flight from Gibraltar, leaving Mia to remain on the boat and protect their find while he sought advice from his trusted companion and mentor – Professor Robert Nelson. He had touched down at Manchester Airport just in time to catch the next train to Piccadilly Station. He had no luggage to slow him down as he rushed across familiar concrete pathways; past smoking and chugging buses that lurched and struggled down the streets amongst the tangle of niftier but equally poisonous cars squealing around them.

Trams honked warnings to idiots in their paths, police officers whirled past with their sirens on, ambulances were parked outside buildings while a single paramedic stood and smoked by the back. Tourists rushed by with wonder, lovers sat in restaurant windows staring into each other’s’ eyes so deeply they ignored everything else. Students moved in droves towards their drinking establishments and the usual underworld was equally as active.

He passed underneath the arch of the Manchester Museum and quickly pushed through the glass front door and into the familiar reception. He gave a small wave to the gift shop girl who smiled warmly when she saw him, then turned and headed deep into the museum itself. Like the streets, he could walk through the halls blindfolded and know where each item they had would be – presuming the professor hadn’t been moving them all on him.

He moved through time like a known wanderer – passing from the ancient Egyptians and the looming statues of the gods and goddesses towards the enlightenment of ancient Greece and the dominance of imperialistic Rome. He moved past ancient remnants of the Celtic settlers of early Britain, the arrowheads of tribes long dead. But through all his wanderings, even towards the history so ancient evolution had begun to seem apparent – none of it compared to the find weighing down his jacket pocket. It was...beyond his understanding – but hopefully not that of the professor.

They were looking at something defining. A remnant of history that time forgot but would now forever be remembered alongside his name.

Had Dr Steele not been distracted by the whirling thoughts of his upcoming notoriety or his discovery and its implications for world history – he would surely have noticed Derek, their security guard. He was old and slow but still honest enough. He spent most of his shift in the same chair, keeping an eye out and occasionally doing rounds. The chair was nestled between a rather large statue of the Goddess Osiris and a glass case containing Ancient Egyptian board games.

Derek was not strange to look at with his little handlebar moustache and rotund belly. He was a normal man slipping into middle age and enjoying some of the finer things in life. Or he had been until his throat had been brutally slashed. He was not sleeping, as he often did on his shifts, he was dead. His blood dripped into a large pool around his polished black shoes which would later be documented by police.

Dr Steele walked past him without a second glance. His small head was laid upon his chest as if he were sleeping. So Dr Steele assumed he was sleeping.

He passed through a door marked ‘Private’ and headed quickly up a large spiral staircase to the archaeology offices located on the second floor. The palaeontologists had to work from behind the dinosaur exhibit – it was where they were happiest. As least the archaeologists got themselves a good view in the bargain. He emerged into a small familiar hall. To the right was his office. ‘Dr Nate Steele – Marine Archeology’ was written on the door.

To the left was the office of their companion ‘Dr Daniel Jackson – Classical Archeology’ and in front of him was ‘Professor Robert Nelson’. He needed no label and specifically asked for that to be left off. He liked, as he often said, to have his hand in a little bit of everything. His was the only light on that evening, which was the way Dr Steele remembered it. He knocked once on the door as was customary and stepped through into a familiar den.

The office was the same as it had always been but things had most certainly changed. There had been a violent intrusion that had left the office itself utterly undisturbed but the main occupant severely disturbed. He could see the slipper clad feet of the professor poking out from around his rather large desk (he preferred slippers to shoes in his office – he often insisted it was more like home than home was). He could smell the sweet copper tang of blood in the air and knew what had happened.

The intruder was a single man sitting behind the desk. He dressed in all black, a sweeping black coat over a blacker shirt. His skin was so pale it stood out against the darkness of the rest of him. His eyes were pools of coal that stared at Dr Steele with a faint trace of a smile. He seemed youthful and ancient at the same time, though immediately in his presence his mind began to grow foggy. He couldn’t focus on his features.

“Dr Steele, so glad you could join us,” he greeted, bringing his polished shoes off of the desk and onto the floor. His smile grew more apparent, “I’m afraid the Professor was a little put out by my appearance.” He shrugged, “I forgot to knock.”

“Who are you?” Dr Steele managed to choke out.

“Pleased to meet you,” the man continued, ignoring his question. He stood, his height becoming apparent. He was tall, his shoulders wide underneath the bulge of his bulky coat. “Hope you guess my name.”

“What did you do to the professor?”

“Well, you see today I’m giving out lollipops and death...and I ran out of lollipops,” the man told him sarcastically. Dr Steele took his chance to whirl and run for the door but he heard the click of the pistol before he’d even pivoted ninety degrees. He stopped dead, “There’s something about the click of a gun, isn’t there? Some small chill that runs along a spine and reduces grown men to silent statues...and even less chatty corpses. You’ll want to think about that as you turn back around, Dr Steele, think hard.”

He did so slowly, his knees protesting. Hell, his whole body was protesting. This day was going from great to shit in a single bound – all thanks to the mysterious man who could have wandered in off the street.

“What do you want?” he asked, barely a whisper.

“You and Miss Dickerson found something out in the ocean,” the man reminded him, “Something which I would like to know about – very much so. No doubt you know of what I’m talking and of the implications it has. I want it. You are going to give it to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dr Steele, in the immortal words of my hero – ‘I am now going to count to three’,” the man explained, raising the gun level with Dr Steele’s head, “There will not be a four.”

“One.”

“Seriously, I don’t know...”

“Two.”

“Please, come on...”

“Three.”

“Okay, fine!” he snapped, “I hid it. I wanted to tell the professor about it before I showed it to him. It’s in a locker, in Piccadilly Station. Locker number 217. Here’s the key.”

He reached into his shirt pocket and tossed a small silver key towards his assailant who caught it deftly in one hand and examined it closely. In reality, the key would allow him access to his apartment block’s post box and that was about it.

“Thank you.”

Dr Steele never even heard the shot, his central nervous system had been blown to smithereens before the sound ever touched his ears. And the man in black? Well, he stepped over the body of Dr Steele, off into the city itself, unaware that the focus of his inquiries had been on the man’s person the whole time.

Even villains could be stupid.