The People's Alpha ✔

36: The Night Belongs To Monagh

The room was sparsely furnished, with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a mirror. All the windows were barred. There was a surveillance camera, a bubble of black glass protruding from the ceiling.

Stevenson had confiscated my watch and my phone. I checked all the drawers and every nook and cranny, and found nothing. I listened to the rhythm of the ducted heating. I looked out the window for a while, watching patrols come and go at regular intervals. I watched the gates open and shut, counting the seconds it took. I counted the bars on the window.

Some time after darkness had fallen, the door opened. It was Stevenson again.

"I take it you're escorting me to dinner," I said.

"Adlai likes to eat late," Stevenson replied. "Sometimes after ten o'clock. I've never agreed with it, but it's the way he operates."

"So where are we going?" I asked, as we headed down the corridor.

I felt the tip of a knife dig into my hip.

"Adlai doesn't know about this," Stevenson replied. "And by the time he does, you will have perished in a happy little accident."

I assumed he meant by Adlai doesn't know about this that the surveillance cameras had been turned off. That could be an opportunity.

"Usually we just throw you guys into the river," Stevenson began.

"Is that what that photographer guy saw?"

The tip of knife jabbed dully into my ribs. "None of your business. Normally that's what we would do. But not for you. I've got something else planned for you and that lapdog of yours. You killed several of my best men and caused me quite some amount of pain and inconvenience. It will be a pleasure killing you. Just like those Granite Peak pigs. That young alpha too, what's his name, Kevin or whatever. I'll hunt him down like a dog."

"You'll do no such thing," I muttered.

Oh, it will be fun. He'll put up a fight. I like the ones that put up a fight."

I couldn't see Stevenson's face, but I could have sworn he smiled at that moment.

We walked through more corridors. The house was eerily quiet. You could hear the whistling of the breeze outside.

We were approaching a floor heating duct. I remembered Adlai's words about Stevenson. That freezing workers' hut. I slowed down.

There was a muffled whoosh as the ducted heating started up again. Stevenson gave a start, a moment of hesitation. His grip on the knife loosened, almost imperceptibly. It was all the time I needed.

I spun around and drove my elbow into his shoulder. He lost his balance and landed on his rump, the knife clattering to the floor. He reacted quickly, springing up, throwing his weight around my midsection and rugby-tackling me to the floor.

He had me pinned on the ground, but my arms were still free. I grabbed him by the neck with both hands and slammed him into the wall, pushing him off me. Then I rolled onto him, putting all my weight on his chest. 

Suddenly, Stevenson seemed to relax. It seemed that he had given up. Then I realised he was reaching for the knife, which was resting next to the baseboard of the wall.

He had a head start, but my reach was longer, and a few seconds later I had knife to his neck. 

His breathing was ragged. "What are you trying to do? There is no way out of here. Your-"

"Take me to Brian," I commanded, pulling him up by the scruff of his neck, driving the knife a little closer to his skin.

We descended down flight after flight of stairs, until we reached the basement. When guards approached us, Stevenson simply waved them away. They obeyed without question.