ANGEL BLUE [1]

LEAD 39: ten-double-zero

      "You should know this by now," I say to her. "I'm nothing but stupid."

      And with that, I leave Sam's sleeping figure, take the car keys and slip out the front door.

      • • •

      With every pause at the stoplight, every blink of the indicator, I know I'm losing ground on my case. Statistics are running through my head, meaningless numbers which send my mind into over drive. Almost all child abductees are killed within two hours of being taken, I just hope that whoever has got Nathalia and Shoshana, spare them at least three.

      I'm pretty sure I've run three red lights since reversing out of the apartment carpark. I know that what I'm doing is illegal, but I honestly have to prioritise my concerns. I dial Henry's number on my phone and he picks up on the third ring.

      "Akira, unless your Mr Hyde is about to tear through your subconscious, I'm otherwise preoccupied," he says.

      "Stop, drop and roll Nikita I'm in a situation. I need to know where Alkaios is," I flick the indicator off as I turn the corner.

      There's a brief pause and I hear Nikita audibly grumble out a curse over the line. He doesn't seem to be alone because there's traffic noises and muffled chattering in the background, as if he's out in public instead of hiding in Alkaios' abode.

      "Stop the car, Detective," he orders in a soft voice.

      "Now is not the time for riddles Henry, I just need to know where Alkaios is," I ease on the accelerator and flick on the blue and red patrol lights within the SUV. I don't have time for Nikita's bullshit.

      "Do what I say Detective," there's more static accompanying Nikita's voice, as if he's on the move.

      I swerve at the intersection and change gears, powering back down towards the Trump Rink in Central Park―the only one which Beth had ever mentioned to her daughters. For some unexplained reason, my gut tells me Central Park. My journey began there, it may as well end in the same place.

      "I said stop the fucking car!" Nikita shouts.

      I slam on the brakes when the megalomaniac slides across the road into my lane. There's several screeches of tires, honking of horns and the smell of burnt rubber behind me. Standing in front of the windshield with his left hand outstretched in a 'stop' gesture, Nikita exhales cigarette smoke from his nose.

      I can see the blackness of his eyes, the curvature of his adapted Baines claws, the poke of Vrykokolas needle-like fangs beneath his puckered lips. It's in the haze of night where I can see what the Diablo gene is truly capable of, I don't need provocation to have the shackles raise behind my shoulders.

      Without breaking eye contact from me, Nikita lowers the phone from his ear and ends the call. Before he moves towards the hood of the SUV, a cloud of gold and black aspirates to his side and Alkaios wipes the line of his jaw with the sleeve of his waist coat.

      I take note of the crimson discolouration to his flesh from the blood. I don't, however, argue when Nikita lets himself into the passenger side of the vehicle or when Alkaios tags along in the back. All I do is accelerate away from the foul mouthed drivers backed up for fifty metres.

      "Now, how about we act civilized and start from the beginning," Nikita adjusts his flannel shirt collar and gives me a sympathetic smile. "Why are you so adamant on our presence?"

      I keep my eyes on the road ahead, "I need Alkaios to be my tracker because he and Eryx like to observe the AB squad. Someone's taken Banks' sisters."