“Gardiner, Cordingley, keep your positions and alert me if it does anything. The rest of you, fall back around the corner,” said Odgers. They retreated cautiously, unwilling to turn their backs on the unnerving surface. Even once they were out of sight of the thing, they kept their guns at the ready.
“This is a bit big for us. I want some advice from someone who makes more than I do,” said Odgers. She stepped away from the group and put her hand to her earpiece. “O’Rourke, this is Odgers. I’m going to need a direct line to the ops center at the Rookery.”
“What’s happening, Jennings?” asked Barnaby quietly.
“Well, apparently it’s a big fucking monster that’s eaten some people, i’n’it?” said Jennings. “If we’re going to kill it, we’ll need some backup and preparation.”
“You know, that thing doesn’t look like it’s doing anything,” said Chopra. “Maybe it’s asleep?”
“Until the chief poked it with a knife,” muttered Barnaby.
“So, do we think that whole oblong thing is the Homeowner, then?” asked Buchanan.
“Well, I don’t think it’s part of the original decor,” said Jennings. “But it doesn’t look like it can go out and fetch the victims. It wouldn’t fit through the door.”
“Maybe it just summons people?” suggested Felicity.
“Maybe the Homeowner feeds these people to it?” suggested Pawn Chopra.
“I don’t see a mouth,” said Jennings. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Pawn Rutledge at the Annexe doesn’t have a mouth most of the time.”
“I can’t see this thing laying down traps and motion detectors,” said Felicity.
Odgers tilted her head as she listened to voices coming down her earpiece, and then she rejoined the group. “Okay, well, they want to send a science team to examine it. We’ll be escorting them when they arrive.”
“So, what now?” asked Chopra.
“We’ve found it, and it doesn’t appear to be doing anything interesting. I don’t think shooting it is going to help much, especially since we don’t even know where its head is. So we’ll just fall back, nice and quiet and careful, and then once we’re out, we’ll secure the street.” The team was arranging itself to retreat when Cordingley held up a hand.
“Do you hear that?” she asked. They all held their breath and listened carefully. Nobody heard anything. “It’s coming from inside the OOM.”
“What do you hear?” asked Odgers. “Stomach rumblings?”
Or screams, thought Felicity, although she didn’t say it. Everyone was tense again, guns once more at the ready.
“It’s music,” said Cordingley.
“Music?” repeated Odgers. “What kind of music?”
“Instrumental,” said the singing Pawn. “Like orchestral. I don’t know the composer.”
“We’ll have to check it,” said Odgers. Once again, the team moved around the corner and drew a little closer to the OOM. The flat pale surface did not appear any different.
Well, I’m not putting my ear against that thing, Felicity thought firmly. She watched with interest as Odgers tried to think through the implications of the music. Then Felicity saw the wall of the OOM shiver.
“It’s moving!” she shouted. Six guns and three hands were immediately pointed at the surface. Out of the corner of her eye, Felicity saw Cordingley open her mouth and take a deep, controlled breath.
“Move back!” yelled Odgers. “Jennings, if something comes at us, torch it! Barnaby, on my word, you make us an exit.”
As they backed away, lines appeared on the object’s surface, marking out a large X. They grew broad, and Felicity realized they were actually seams in the flesh. Where they met, the corners began to curl out, and from the chinks, light poured into the hallway, flaring in their night vision. Wincing, her eyes burning, Felicity hastily flipped up the visor.
She squinted as the triangles hinged open, like the valves of a heart. Light and music filled the corridor. It was not clear whether this development warranted a retreat. Felicity kept her gun trained on the opening and waited for her orders.
Oh, that music is Bruckner, she thought absently. Symphony no. 8. She resisted the urge to point this out to Cordingley, as it didn’t seem like the best time. The Pawns were braced for something disastrous to happen, but instead, the music grew quieter, and an amused-sounding voice emerged from the opening.
“Please come in, we should talk.”
The Pawns looked at one another and then at Odgers. Odgers looked at her watch and then at the opening. You’ve got to be kidding me, thought Felicity. This seemed like the easiest decision in the world to make.
“If you come in,” said the voice, “then we can talk about this lovely young lady who wandered in a few hours ago. Perhaps we could work out some sort of deal. Before things get too messy.” Everyone looked to Odgers again. She had her hand to her ear, was talking quietly into her mic. She shook her head at what she heard and then straightened her shoulders.
“Chopra, Clements, Jennings,” said Odgers. “We’re going in.”
“Are you insane?” asked Felicity incredulously. Everyone looked at her. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s a living creature and it just invited you into its mouth!”
“There is a civilian in there,” said Odgers. “A British civilian. And there is the possibility that we can save her life.” Felicity looked down, ashamed. “Plus, we need more intelligence.”
Well, on that we can agree, thought Felicity.
“So, yes,” Odgers said firmly, “we are going in. We are the troops of the Checquy, we are trained, we have supernatural powers, and we have big fucking guns. This is what we do.” The team nodded obediently. In hushed tones, she gave instructions to the Pawns who were to remain outside, outlining the circumstances under which they should act as backup and the circumstances under which they should get their arses the hell out of there and report everything they’d seen to the Rooks.
“And only the Rooks,” she said firmly.
“Understood,” said Gardiner uncertainly.
“Be sure to follow the route we took exactly,” said Felicity. “Remember the traps.” He nodded.
Meanwhile, Odgers was eyeing the valve-door-thing grimly. “That entrance is terrible,” she said. “Irregular doors and hatches are always a bitch — you see how it tapers down at the bottom? It means only one person through at a time, and you all be careful, I don’t want anyone tripping.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Clements and Chopra will enter first, in that order. Clements, you’ll slide along the wall to the right; Chopra will take the left. Clear your corners immediately. Then me. Jennings, you don’t enter until called.”
Felicity nodded slightly at this. Jennings was the team’s heaviest hitter — if necessary, he’d be able to clear the room completely, but he had a tendency to simply unload everything he had.
“Understood?” They all nodded. “All right!” Odgers shouted toward the opening. “We’re coming in!” She muttered something to herself, but Felicity couldn’t make it out. And then Odgers led the three of them down the hallway.
As they drew nearer, Felicity saw that a thin translucent membrane was draped down the inside. It retracted up silently, clenching itself in bunches.
“Go,” said Odgers, and Felicity stepped through.
Her eyes swept quickly across the room: clean, white, with metal benches against the sides and empty in the middle. She turned to the right and moved along the wall as Chopra came in behind her and covered the left half of the room.
“First corner clear!” Felicity shouted. Then: “I have a target!” In the far right corner of the room was a man, a white figure, his back to her. For a moment, he’d blended in with the white walls and floor. “You! Hands in the air! Hands in the air!”
“Jennings, enter!” barked Pawn Odgers as she moved next to Felicity. Both had their guns pointed at the man’s back.
Jennings came in and there was a pause as it sank in that the man was naked and urinating into a metal rubbish bin. He did not seem even slightly discommoded by the armed soldiers shouting in the room.
“You! Hands on your head!” shouted Odgers. “Go down on your knees and cross your feet over each other!”