Ciphers by Matt Rogers (ereader with dictionary .txt) 📕

back of Samuel’s head.

‘Do it,’ Samuel said. ‘Then you’re all out of options.’

He laughed, a high-pitched cackle that the cold night air seized and whisked up and away.

Behind them, Slater said, ‘This is reassuring.’

‘We just need to get inside,’ King said. ‘Then we don’t need him.’

‘That’s right,’ Samuel said. ‘You sure don’t. Ain’t nobody ever really needed me.’

‘You were part of this,’ King said.

‘Wasn’t my idea.’

‘You contributed.’

‘I did what I was told.’

‘Has that always been the case? You ever thought for yourself?’

‘Nah,’ Samuel said. ‘I ain’t smart like the rest of you. But I’m good at following orders.’

‘What’d they get you to do for them?’

‘A whole lot.’

‘Care to elaborate?’

‘No,’ Samuel said. ‘I don’t think I will.’

King said nothing.

Just kept the barrel pressed against the back of his head.

‘What?’ Samuel said. ‘You going to hurt me? Do it. I’ll enjoy it. I deserve it.’

‘He’s a lost cause,’ Slater muttered.

Samuel cackled. ‘That’s me. Lost as you could imagine. Used and discarded by everyone. You two are about to do the same. Won’t be anything new.’

‘Are you expecting sympathy?’ King said. ‘You know full well what you’ve done here.’

Samuel hesitated.

His stride slowed.

He said, ‘What do you mean?’

‘The blackout.’

The kid burst out laughing. ‘You think that’s bad?’

‘Yeah,’ King said. ‘I do.’

‘I killed over thirty people for them,’ Samuel said, his words hollow and devoid of empathy. ‘Wrap your head around that.’

King paused. ‘For who?’

‘I told you my last name. You figure it out.’

‘The Whelans aren’t around anymore,’ King said. ‘Either we killed them, or they wised up and ran for it. So there must be somebody else involved.’

Samuel beamed ear to ear, completely manic. ‘That’s the beauty of the modern world, hey? There aren’t “top dogs” anymore. There used to be the head of the family, obviously, but like you said, you killed him. That don’t matter much, though. It’s all bullshit, in the end. People sucking up to other people to get promotions. The fuckin’ hierarchy. Me … I was never good at that. I ain’t exactly … how would you put it? … socially intelligent. I ain’t get no favours with no one. So they always used me. But nowadays … prestige means nothing. The smarter ones in the family kept a low profile. The ones who could actually shake things up. That’s who stayed behind. That’s who you overlooked.’

Samuel let them mull over that as he came to a halt over the lid of a giant storm drain. It was tucked into the shadows in the middle of the alleyway, unassuming, dark metal, a heavy solid thing. There was a thick rusting cylindrical handle on its far side, with a bolt at one end to secure it in place. It was hard to discern much in the dark, but King could see, clear as day, that the bolt had been tampered with. There was nothing securing it to the drain.

Allowing discreet access to the sewers and tunnels underneath.

King fought back apprehension. He gestured at the lid with his MP7.

‘Is that where you’re taking us?’

Samuel grinned. ‘Sure is.’

Slater said, ‘You know it’s a trap.’

King said, ‘Do we have another choice?’

‘No,’ Samuel said. ‘You don’t.’

Slater stepped forward. ‘Why should we believe you? You talk about being used and discarded. Why do you want to help them by handing us over, when that’s what they did to you?’

‘Maybe it’s not a trap,’ Samuel said. ‘You ever considered that? Maybe I don’t give a shit anymore. Maybe there’s no one waiting to ambush you. You won’t know until you try.’

King said, ‘Is that the truth?’

‘I’m tired,’ Samuel said, and for the first time a shred of humanity crept into his voice. ‘I’m tired of it all.’

‘You’re helping us, then? Is that what this is?’

‘I’m not fuckin’ helping anybody. They got a lot of reinforcements in that building. They knew they were gonna have to defend it. You’ll probably die. But hell, why not let you try?’

‘You hate them, don’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But you hate us, too.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why not just keep your mouth shut?’

‘I’m gonna die tonight,’ Samuel said. ‘If you two don’t kill me, I’ll kill myself. Might as well make my last night a fun one, hey?’

King looked at Slater.

And shrugged.

Slater seemed hesitant.

King said, ‘What have we got to lose?’

Slater’s gaze fell to the drain lid. ‘Everything.’

’So it’s the same as always, then.’

‘Not exactly.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Now’s not the time. I’ll tell you later.’

King thought he saw something in Slater’s eyes. A different attitude. Unusual circumstances. Like the man was holding onto something precious, something he didn’t want to lose. They’d shared so many of their most vulnerable moments that it was hard to mask their feelings from one another.

King’s instincts told him, Slater’s met someone. Someone who means something. Or could mean something.

But where?

And when?

Slater was right. Now wasn’t the time.

King handed Samuel over to Slater, bent down, and heaved on the handle. It took practically all his strength — which, considering he could deadlift north of six hundred pounds on a barbell, was nothing to scoff at. He made sure Slater had his MP7 pressed to Samuel’s ear, then put his own submachine gun on the alley floor and switched to a double handed grip.

The lid creaked upward, an inch at a time.

Finally, it passed the point of no return, and dropped with a resonant clang to the other side.

A black hole had opened up for them in the ground, with an access ladder just inside the lip.

King picked up the MP7.

Slater said, ‘After you.’

57

Slater watched King go first.

King kept the submachine gun pointed below him to intercept anyone who might be waiting for them. He crept down the ladder, one thin rung at a time, until the top of his head vanished from sight.

Slater kept Samuel Whelan in a tight grip. There were a million questions he could ask, but he kept his mouth shut. Samuel was a loose cannon, volatile as hell. The kid had descended into nihilism, and now the world was a sick game to him. Slater had seen it before.

When all