Fortunatus Wright - Part 2 : Family Ties

[Stoat]

Chapter 4

A hole in the wall allowed them access to number 55. The building was empty, a thick layer of dust coating everything. Like much of Leeds, this was an area that had fallen into decay many years ago. Nate sneezed as Nobby disturbed the dust up ahead. They climbed three flights of stairs before Nobby stopped. With Fortunatus wheezing while he tried to catch his breath, Nobby helped himself to another slug or two from his flask.

"You going to pass that around?" asked Nate, holding out his hand. He felt he needed a boost right about now. Nobby twitched the flask away protectively, before reluctantly handing the flask across. Nate took a sniff, and recoiled as the fumes hit his nostrils. It was Molly poitin, and it made Nate's eyes water. He looked at Nobby, who'd knocked back about half the flask already. This stuff was not only strong enough to floor a horse, it was also mildly halucinogenic. What it was doing to Nobby in the volumes he was drinking it was anyone's guess. Nobby merely grinned as Nate handed the flask back, untouched.

"Right then, up there!" Nobby pointed to a hatchway in the ceiling. With a grace belying his frame he leaped up, caught the sides of the hatch and hauled himself through. Bracing himself, he reached down and offered Nate his hand, grinning. "Come on up then!" Nate couldn't help but smile. People underestimated Nobby at their peril. He jumped up, grabbing Nobby's offered hand, and easily scrambled through the hatch. Nobby set off along the joists, heading for a hole that separated one loft space from another.

Dust billowed up as they made their way through the loft spaces. Nate tried desperately not to sneeze, and had a few scares where he nearly missed putting his foot onto a joist. Eventually Nobby stopped and turned to Nate, raising a finger to his lips. He motioned to the next loft space, and then pointed down. This was it. They'd reached their destination. Nate breathed deeply, trying to slow his pounding heart, while Nobby merely took another swig from his flask. When he felt calm enough he nodded to Nobby, who grinned then moved to the hatch and lowered himself down. He landed soundlessly, then gestured for Nate to follow, moving off to one side. Thinking he should, perhaps, have taken a hit from the flask when he had the chance, Nate lowered himself carefully down and dropped lightly the last couple of feet to the floor. They then headed down the stairs.

Nobby descended slowly, placing his feet with deliberate care, and Nate did his best to do the same. With only a few creaks they reached the last few steps before the ground floor. Nobby turned and mouthed a silent "Wait", then vanished around the base of the stairs. He reappeared seconds later, beckoning eagerly, his grin nearly splitting his face. Nate followed into a large, empty room. He looked quizzically at Nobby, who was almost hopping from toe to toe in his excitement. Nobby pointed at the wall he stood next to. Nate looked at the blank, fairly heavily distressed wall in front of him. He changed his position and looked at it again, several times. It was a wall. He turned to Nobby and shrugged, unimpressed. Nobby simply jumped at the wall, and disappeared. His head reappeared a few seconds later, tears of glee on his cheeks, before vanishing back into the wall.

Hologram, Nate realised. He shook his head and walked towards the wall where Nobby had vanished. As he neared the wall he stopped, and examined it closely. It was an impressive hologram. Even from only a few centimeters away, Nate couldn't tell. The textures were perfect, and the shadowing even moved as Nate moved his head to the left, and then the right. He pushed his hand forward and it passed though easily. Continued investigation revealed a doorway of sorts, about two feet wide. Large enough to get through with ease, but small enough to avoid easy detection. The rest of him followed thereafter. He found himself in a narrow corridor that ended at a set of descending stairs some 15 yards ahead. Nobby leaned nonchalantly against the wall at the top of the stairs, waiting. The grin had gone, but Nate could see devilry dancing in his eyes.

"We can talk here. There's no listening devices that I can find." he whispered. "Pretty neat hologram, eh? Not seen anything that good, like ever. That's some damn serious tech to get a holo that bloody good." He sounded sober to Nate, but looking into Nobby's eyes, he was forced to re-evaluate the situation. The pupils were so dilated Nobby's eyes appeared to be black. "We can head off when you're ready, Nate. There's just a bit of an obstacle we gotta get past down there." The grin returned. "I ain't got a clue how we're gonna do that though."

"Don't have a lot of friends do you? Come on, let's go. Just don't go getting me killed, alright?" Nobby nodded and they slowly descended the stairway.

It was a long way down. Nate counted 17 flights, and still no sign of an end. The stairway was totally enclosed as well, so there was no way to tell. Their steps echoed hollowly around them. And then, around the corner after the stairs, a room opened out before them. It was incongruous, given the hanging tapestries, plush leather chairs and sofa, paintings on the wall and drinks cabinet against the left hand wall. Two used glasses rested on one of the small tables next to a pair of the leather chairs. Nobby was making a bee-line for the drinks.

"Nobby!" Fotunatus hissed. "Priorities!"

"What d'you think I'm doin', Nate? I got my priorities dead straight!" Nobby whispered back, as he poured a large glass full of a deep, amber liquid. "Hey, Nate! This is one of yours!" Nobby hefted the tumbler, and drained it in one, releasing a deep, contented sigh. "Ahhhh, that's a damn fine malt, Nate! Now, our problem is right there."

Nobby pointed at a shadowed alcove and Nate moved over to take a look. Through the alcove was a smaller room, housing a single door. Nate turned back to Nobby. "That's a Sturgess series vault, Nobby! They use them all through the Admiralty buildings. There's no way we're getting through that!"

"Never said it'd be easy, now did I!"

Nate spun as he heard a whirring noise from the alcove. "****! Nobby, we got company!" Desperately looking for a suitable hiding place, it suddenly occurred to him that Nobby had vanished. As he looked left and right, only a single place offered him any kind of protection. Swallowing his pride, he dived behind the sofa. As he heard the sucking noise created by the airseal as the door opened, a loud beeping started somewhere about his person. As he patted himself, trying to locate the source of the beeping, the sound of a pair of booted feet pounded into the room.

Finally locating the communicator Nobby had left with him, he silenced the device. "Ahhhh, don't mind me!" he called out. "Just took a wrong turn at the gents."

A deep bass rumble Nate assumed was a chuckle sounded just behind him. He slowly turned over to look right into the barrel of a large, antagonistic handgun. The man behind the gun was equally large and antagonistic. "Sorry mate," the man said. "Nothing personal, eh?"

Nate spotted Nobby just then, swinging a bottle at the man's head. The impact was crunching. There was no shower of shattering glass and flying liquid, like shown on so many films and TV shows. Just a heavy, wet thud as the toughened glass bottle, still mostly full of amber liquid, crushed the skull, sending shards of bone deep into the brain. Eyes rolling back, the man crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Hefting the bottle, Nobby unscrewed the top and took a long, deep swallow.

"Yup, damn fine malt, this." He handed the bottle to Nate. "Sorry about that one, it was the only distraction I could think of on the spur of the moment, like." Nate grabbed the proffered bottle, knocking back a few mouthfuls. "C'mon, Nate, he left the door open in his hurry to find you!" The infernal grin had returned to Nobby's face, as he turned and headed for the alcove. Nate hauled himself to his feet and followed. That was twice already he'd stared death in the face today. He wondered how long his luck could hold.

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