Synopsis: April 10, 2001: Having proven his worth to the Liverpool Posse in Hidden Legacy, Libra returns to Liverpool to commence diplomatic negotiations with the cell of imbued Scouse hunters working there ...
Lime Street Station in Liverpool is a big place to get lost in, if you've never been there before.
I got on the train at Peterleigh station. Rather than take the car, I thought I'd go via public transport, for a change, and see life from a different perspective.
It was a monumental error.
The ticket cashier was one of the walking dead; a sad - eyed, quiet zombie who patiently listened, told me how much the ticket cost in a hollow, empty voice and overcharged me. I had to stand quietly, sight on, trying to keep a sense of control as the thing turned sightless, glassy eyes to me, apologised hollowly and mechanically and gave me the correct ticket. By this time, of course, the train was pulling into the station and I had to rush through the oncoming crowd, clutching my hat to my head, to get to the platform to board it.
There was another walking dead in the carriage. Everybody ignored the smell, and the "dishevelled street person" in the corner of the train. It got off at Moorfields. I lost it in the crowd. Besides, I had other, more important things to do.
Lime Street Underground station was cold, windy, empty. I ought to have been surprised. Even at its quietest, there ought to have been someone on the platform, waiting for a train to Birkenhead, West Kirby, New Brighton or Chester.
As I approached the immobile escalator stairs, beside the notice warning parents with pushchairs to take the lifts, I noticed a sticker which had been pasted onto the wall tiles. On it, someone had written the Word for "second sight." I reached inside, closed my eyes momentarily, opened them again with the sight fully on.
I gasped. The space above the escalator was filled with a mass of fine, glowing strands. At their centre was a cluster, a nexus of filaments like some sort of obscene nerve bundle.
As I watched, it turned to me, and opened one baleful, solid red eye.
"What the Hell?" I cried. "What is it?"
"Wish I knew," said a voice from behind me. I turned, saw a young lad in a light blue shell suit, Nike trainers and a baseball cap.
"Where did you come from?" I asked him.
"The lift works OK," the lad replied, his Scouse accent broadening "works" so it sounded like "werks." "There's a notice saying the elevators are out of action until further notice. Everybody has to take the lift." He gestured back towards the platform. "That's why the place is empty. Everyone gets off in Bold Street now. Even the ordinary people can feel summat's wrong here." He pointed at the webbing. "An' /dat/ is the cause."
My sight was still on, and I was looking directly at the lad, but it wasn't registering anything at all. "If you're what I think you are ..." I said, pointing to the sign on the wall. "Did you, or one of your friends, put that sign there? Second sight?"
The young man took out a chocolate bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, bit off a chunk, thought about it. "Who's askin'?" he said, affecting a slow drawl.
I tried to keep the grin down. "You ever hear of the Liverpool Posse?" I asked him.
"Yer not in the Posse," the lad replied. "I dunno if you can be, either. Yer too old."
/Now/ I grinned. I took out the ticket from my coat pocket, showed it to him. "I've got to be in Huyton for two," I said. "How do I get past that thing up there?"
"Yer don't," the lad replied, taking another bite of the chocolate bar. "Yer'll 'ave ter take the lift."
The City Line was topside, under the huge domed roof of Lime Street. The platform for trains to Huyton was empty; the train was late. I sat on one of the benches as the lad stood watch, observing the crowds go by on other platforms.
"You expectin' anybody?" he asked me.
"I'm expecting to meet up with the head of the Posse," I replied. "Some business from around my place ended up in your patch last week, so I had to come in and sort it out quietly."
"My patch?" the kid asked, finishing off the chocolate. "How do you know I have a patch? What's the Liverpool Posse? How do you know I'm not gonna just rob yer right here?"
I stood up to my full height, towering over the lad. "I wouldn't know about trying to rob me," I said, very gently, smiling.
The kid stood defiantly, accepting the challenge. "And why's that?" he asked.
"Because," I replied, "at least three CCTV cameras have just turned in our direction," I said. "One of them right over your shoulder. Look."
The lad took the bait, turned, looked behind him at an empty space. As the target presented itself, I took hold of the peak of his baseball cap, and lifted it off his head.
"'Ey!" he yelled, turning back. I put the cap in his hand, grinning.
"I thought Scousers were quick off the mark," I said.
"We bloody are," the lad replied. "I nicked yer wallet when you put it away back on the underground platform."
Startled, I patted my chest; the wallet was still there, in the coat pocket. I glared at the boy. A moment later, we were laughing out loud, and probably frightening the tourists nearby.
"The name's Scruff," the lad said, extending his hand.
"Libra," I replied, shaking it.
"Welcome to Liverpool," Scruff said. "C'mon. I'll take yer to the meeting place."
The mobile rang as we made our way along towards the University precinct past the Adelphi hotel. I answered it. It was Zeiss.
"The rebranding got a go," Zeiss said. "You were right."
"I was hoping it'd be approved," I said to Zeiss. "We had to wait for the final board members to send in their approvals. Wonderful."
"You do know what this means, don't you?" Zeiss asked.
"Of course," I replied. "We are now completely independent of our old firm. At last."
"Are you thinking of a new logo?" Zeiss asked.
"I'm working on one," I replied. "I've been working on creating some sort of seal to go with the new name."
"Seal?"
"Like a rubber stamp," I replied. "I've been working on different designs back in the garage in resin mould. I think I've come up with a good one. I'll show it you later tonight. OK?"
"You're the boss," Zeiss replied, hanging up. I put the mobile phone back in my pocket, and grinned like an idiot. Scruff looked at me.
"Problems?" he asked.
"None at all," I replied. "My colleague just said "you're the boss" to me." I chuckled. "I guess he's right."
"So why did you want me to meet you in Huyton, when you wanted to bring me here all along?" I asked Scruff as we waited in the students' cafe on the University precinct.
"Huyton's on the City Line, which means you have to come to Lime Street to get it," Scruff replied, taking a sip of the coffee, which was on the house courtesy of the management. "We wanted you to see that Thing in the stairwell."
"I certainly did," I replied, taking another mouthful of my black coffee. Good stuff, too. I winced at the taste. Good black coffee's only good when it tastes bad. "She must have been brewing this stuff since yesterday," I said. Scruff glanced at the pretty blonde working behind the counter.
"Yeah, probably," he replied, with a cheeky grin. "But she's all right."
I took another mouthful of the coffee, watched as Scruff sipped some more of his. "Do you all meet here?"
"Some nights," Scruff replied. "Sometimes we all meet in the Students' Union just down the road from here. Like tonight. They're setting up the big central hall inside the Students' Union for a concert. We're all going."
"Who's playing?"
"A Stone Roses tribute band. Stone Posies."
I took another mouthful of coffee. "So they're going to put their instruments down and play nothing for five years, then," I said. Scruff laughed out loud.
"Sumthin' like that," he chuckled.
The door opened behind me. I caught a glimpse of the group of four people coming in, even though my back was to the door; I could see their faces in the mirror on the opposite wall. My suspicions were confirmed a moment later, when Scruff looked up, saw the people and waved them in. He then turned to me.
"Here they are," he said. "Meet some of the rest of the Liverpool Posse."
"Some of them?" I asked. Before Scruff could answer, I was surrounded by students. I looked up into calm, brown Asian eyes. A tall, slim Asian lad with dark hair stood over me, scrutinising my clothes, my chiselled jaw.
"Hello," he said. "My name's Chandra. But you can call me Arjuna." He extended his hand. I got up and shook it warmly. His grip was firm, confident.
"Arjuna," I repeated. "The greatest hunter, bowman and warrior in all India; the hero of the Mahabharata and the Bhagavad Gita, whose charioteer into battle was Shri Krishna himself."
"You know your Hindu Mythology," Arjuna replied.
I smiled. "I used to watch a hell of a lot of Saturday morning programmes on BBC2."
"Ah yes. The Bollywood slot," Arjuna said, with a wry grin. He gestured. "Please, be seated." I sat down, and Arjuna ordered more coffees all around. As the waitress jumped to serve him, I looked at Arjuna, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
"I own the cafe," Arjuna replied. "My uncle bought the premises, and I set the place up." The coffees arrived. I raised my mug to the group.
"Here's to rich relatives," I said.
"Here's to the MDG," Scruff replied, sotto voce. We drank, and sat in silence for a while.
"What was your message, Libra?" asked Scruff, breaking the awkward silence. "From the Heralds?"
"I read 'Justice Is Patient' on a petrol station awning," I replied. "You?"
"I was reading a text on anatomy in the library," Scruff replied. "I suddenly read 'It feeds on emotions.' I looked up, and there was a student from my course looking as if she was attacking her boyfriend. I looked again, and it looked like she was necking a very tired lad, but it looked as if she was only trying to get his rocks off so that she could feed on his arousal."
"Did you see what kind of creature it was?" I asked.
"I didn't stop to ask," Scruff replied. "I just came up to it, and as I approached it, it stepped away from him, as if my presence was forcing it away from people. I remember it being covered in a funny glowing static. Then it turned and ran out the door. The lad she was necking suddenly turned, as if he was waking up from a dream. He stood up, turned to look at her as she ran off and said 'Yer /dumped/, ya bitch!' then went back to his book like there was nothing wrong. I never saw her again. Everyone says she dropped out of the course, but I know it was me that did it to her. It."
I looked to the other two students. "These two?"
"Artemis and Orion," said Arjuna.
I looked at them both. Neither of them looked to be older than nineteen. The woman had red hair and light brown eyes; she was dressed fashionably, for a student. At least her Oxfam regulation clothes were clean. Orion - I could have sworn Arjuna'd called him O'Ryan - was dressed in Goth chic, but his fair hair spoiled the image.
I looked at faces that were way too fresh. "First year students," I deduced. Arjuna nodded.
"Artemis studies Theology, and Orion is studying Information Technology," Arjuna replied. "They've only been imbued about two months. They both got the message here in town."
"And yourself?"
"About eight months," Arjuna said. "I was imbued before I returned here. I was on summer break at the time."
"Are you the most experienced?" I asked.
Arjuna shook his head. "There are a few of us who have been imbued a lot longer, but I lead."
"How did you all decide who was to lead? I thought it was usually based on relative experience of the hunt," I said. "Veteran rule, and all that."
"We had a vote," Arjuna said.
I smiled, thinking about how my people didn't go for all that democratic crap. They just /chose/ me, as if I was somehow destined to just drop in their lap and rule wisely from that day on: something I am still getting used to, even now. An arbiter by temperament I may be, but Old King Solomon I am not.
"Is this all the gang there is?" I asked. Arjuna shook his head.
"Most of us are still at lectures," Arjuna replied. "Except for Morris."
"Morris? Is that his name?"
"No, it's his handle," Orion said. "He drives one. Beat up old Morris Thousand. Beats me where he gets the parts for it."
"Probably orders them from my home town," Arjuna replied.
"You come from Bombay?" I asked. "And you came to study ... medicine?"
"Don't be stupid," Arjuna laughed. "Theology."
I shook my head. "Sorry," I said. "Army training. Still thinking in stereotypes."
I looked at the others as they attempted to suppress their expressions of scorn. I shrugged. It's their problem if they couldn't understand sarcasm.
"So, anyway," I said, "why the change of heart?"
"Morris was the decider," Arjuna said. "After you helped his friends."
I nodded, finally understanding. A guy with friends who share a love of beat up old relic vehicles. Scousers I helped recently. "He's the bartender at the ..."
"The Lilly the Pink," Arjuna said. "Do you still have the matchbook he gave you?"
I admitted I still did, and I kept it in my wallet. My face was flushing as I took it out of the wallet, handed it over to Arjuna, who accepted it with a slight smile.
"He said he could tell you were straight the moment you walked in the place," he murmured. "You can spot supes at a thousand paces. He's got the sight for poofs."
I laughed in spite of myself, feeling a sense of relief bursting out of my chest. After all the tension, suddenly I found that I had never heard anything so funny in all my life.
"So we're going to keep the lines of communication open, then," I said. "Work on the Exchange."
"Agreed," Arjuna replied. "And don't forget, this July, you're going to take on some of our graduates full time for a start. Otherwise they won't have anywhere to go to, once they're kicked off the campus."
"We'll have the accommodations set up by then," I replied. "Ah. We're here."
"Right, then," Arjuna said, as he dropped me down at the Central Station. "You're going to see what you can do about opening a branch of ... what was your firm's new name?"
"Herald Recruitments," I replied. "We only just split off from the old firm today."
"You're going to open one here, as soon as you can raise the capital," Arjuna said.
"Could be a while, but I'll manage something. I'll talk to the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce about it," I replied. "They'll always have a welcome for any initiative that gets jobless people off the streets and into work. They're big on that, especially seeing as Cammell Laird shipyard just called in the receivers.
"They might give the company a grant to set up the premises, and if I talk to the Trustees on the Board of Liverpool University ..."
"They may give you a site near the campus," Arjuna replied, with a smile. "So you'll be close to us, and we can arrange to send our, er, people to you once they graduate."
"That sounds like a good idea," I said. "That way, we'll be assured of a constant influx of new talent to replace those who find better employ elsewhere."
"I am looking forward to doing business with you, sir," Arjuna said, shaking my hand.
"Likewise," I replied. "Though as I said, it won't be for a while yet. We're eyeing up a smaller branch in Chester, near the Old Bank Buildings. We're going for that first, get that one up and running. We may need people to run the place once it's online. I'll give you a call when the day comes."
"Good luck, then," Arjuna replied. "And good hunting," he whispered. As he turned away, I had a thought.
"Hey!" I said. Arjuna turned back, puzzled.
"What are you going to do about the Lime Street problem?" I asked him.
"I have no idea," he said. "The damn thing won't let anyone near it."
I scratched my chin for a moment. Then I had an idea. "I tell you what," I told him, "I know just the man. He's in hospital at the moment, but as soon as he's out, he'll come and give that thing a visit. He has a most powerful ... persuader."
Arjuna smiled. "He's not the only persuader in your group," he said. And then he was gone, vanished into the Liverpool crowd.
I smiled, straightened the collar of my mac, adjusted my hat. I had one phone call to Vestal, to ask her how Martin was doing, and that someone in Liverpool had need of he and that ... talent ... of his as soon as he was well.
The moment I took my mobile out of my pocket, that same walking dead shambler I'd had to let go at Moorfields suddenly appeared at the entrance to Central, heading for the trains. I sighed, turned to follow it, determined not to let it get away this time.
And I vowed that next time, parking or no parking, I'd take the car.
By: Fiat Knox
Copyright © Fiat Knox, 2001