Alchemist (4 page)

He was half way
between the desk and the door when he entered.

Rufus was greeted
by a smartly dressed middle-aged man and a smile, which he
returned. “Mr Crombie.” He said, offering his hand. “It is a
pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise Mr
Trotsky, it is a pleasure to finally get to speak to you in
person.”

“Please, have a
seat.” Rufus gestured, indicating the one in front of his desk.

“Thank you.”

“Can I get you
something to drink?”

“Err, yes, I think
I could do with a glass of water please.” He said, sitting
down.

Returning to the
far side of the desk, Rufus lifted the phone and said: “Rachel?”
When he got a reply he said, “Could you bring Mr Crombie a glass of
water and some coffee for me please?”

Hanging up he sank
into his chair. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, a glass of
water will be fine thank you.” Mr Crombie smiled. A few wrinkles
creased around the edges of his eyes when he did so.

“Very well.” Rufus
said, with a slight nod of his thin face. Rufus was a man in his
late thirties; rich, successful and cool and confident. Unlike many
men his age, Mr Crombie being no exception, he was lean rather than
showing the early signs of a gut. His hair was sandy coloured, a
little longer than most, but swept back and tidy. His eyes were an
icy blue, sharp and alert. But then, Rufus Trotsky had never been
like any other man.

He weighed his
words carefully before addressing his guest. “Cutting to the chase,
I will admit that I’m not keen on one of your proposed terms.”

Mr Crombie simply
held his gaze, his expression unreadable. Rufus was not certain if
he was angry or indifferent to what he had just said. Finally, he
asked. “Which term are we talking about?”

“The one that has
left me unhappy is how much of the business you wish to gain.
Personally I believe it would be fairer if we controlled the
majority share as we are the ones investing the most money.”

“What percentage
of the company did you have in mind?” Mr Crombie enquired
coolly.

“Fifty five per
cent.” Rufus replied.

Mr Crombie
straightened at this, but his face remained an unreadable mask.
“May I ask why you want to keep fifty five per cent when you could
hold the majority share in the company with only fifty one per
cent?”

“Why do you want
to hold the majority share?” Rufus fired back.

Mr Crombie
continued to regard the man across the desk, at least ten years his
junior. “With respect, your experience and extensive knowledge of
this industry are remarkable for someone your age and beyond
compare.

“However, I have
been dealing in this market for at least ten years more than you. I
am putting a large amount of investment into this venture and I
would feel safer leading the newly merged business myself. I would
be the safer bet and in time, once I retire, you can step into my
place. By then, you would have learned everything that I know.”

Rufus gave a
slight nod, as he considered what he had just heard. “And I respect
that experience, that is why I agreed to share partnership with
you/ But I feel you may be over estimating your ability.” He leant
back in his chair. “The ore we talked about may replace many of the
materials we take for granted in the modern world. I have worked
with it for a while now, you have not. There is also another
problem. There are very few people who know how to manipulate this
material properly. More need to be trained and with the greatest of
respect, human resources and training is not something your
business shines at.”

Mr Crombie forced
a grim smile. He had offended him, he could tell. “I think that is
debatable Mr Trotsky, and it depends greatly on who you speak too.”
Taking a breath he asked, “I take it you think you know how to
recruit the right people and how to train them then?”

Rufus nodded.
“Yes. I make donations to one of the best engineering university’s
in the country. I can assure you in four years we will have four
additional fully trained metallurgists.”

Mr Crombie’s ears
seemed to prick up at this. “You sound like you have already
shortlisted candidates.”

“Yes, but there
future all depends on what we agree here today. I have not promised
anything to anyone or made any arrangements behind your back. I
have merely consulted and been bought back a realistic cost and
resource model on expanding the number of metallurgists I
have.”

“I see.” Said Mr
Crombie thoughtfully. “How much will training these four cost?”

“Five hundred
thousand dollars. Each. Which I am willing to pay for.”

Mr Staples studied
the sly entrepreneur. Finally, a thin smile crept across his aging
features. “I think fifty five per cent is a reasonable offer.”

“You accept?”

“I most certainly
do.” Mr Staples replied with gusto, rising to shake the Rufus’
hand.

Rufus smiled in
return as they sealed the deal. “I am glad that we could come to an
agreement.”

The secretary
appeared at that moment with their refreshments.

Taking a sip of
his black coffee, Mr Trotsky returned to discussions with his new
business partner.

******

“Goodnight Terry.”
Said Connor as he, his wife and the alchemist filed out of the pub
and into the street.

“Goodnight guys,
see you later.”

With a smile, the
happy couple headed the other direction. Terry pulled up her hood,
to stop the light drizzle and the chill of the night from getting
to her. Digging her hands into her pockets she headed off home.

Four streets over
Terry walked round a corner then ducked into an alleyway. Pressing
her back against the wall she cautiously took a quick glance back
into the street. There was no one there. No one she could see
anyway but her other senses said otherwise.

A shadow slithered
into the alley behind her as quietly as a shadow. The creature’s
features glinted slightly in the orange street light, as it snuck
up behind her. It moved its arm, silently drawing some kind of
blade.

As it came
within reach, it quietly drew its arm to strike. Before the blade
could fall it was knocked away with a
clang
as something metal came up to meet it. The
stalker was momentarily surprised by the sudden counter. But the
expression vanished from his face as a metal blade slipped through
his stomach. He coughed, gasping for air as a dark liquid began to
pour from his lips.

Terry pulled her
blade free and let the body slump to the ground. The blade on her
right hand and her gauntleted fists slid melted away, forming into
human flesh once more. She rolled the figure onto his back with a
heel. He spluttered, a trail of crimson spittle falling from the
corner of his mouth.

Seeing the
helpless attacker laying there in a pool of his own blood caused
something primeval within her to stir. Resisting the urge to
transform into the most ancient form of the Alchemist race to feed,
she knelt down beside him. Grabbing the straggler by the collar,
she pulled him up so that they were almost face to face. A blade
extended from her arm, coming to rest just beneath his throat. The
veins in her hand and arm began to turn grey as the miniature
robots in her blood started to come alive.

“You’re a shit
stalker.” She said, the veins on her neck also starting to change
colour. “Why were you following me?”

The man
stared at her, his face devoid of colour or emotion. She held the
blade closer and narrowed her gaze. But his eyes turned vacant as
his head lolled to one side. Dropping him she sighed. Reaching
around him she fumbled through his coat and trouser pockets but she
found nothing; nothing to tell her who he was and nothing to tell
who had sent him.
Why would someone send a
human to kill an Alchemist? The man never stood a chance.
She squatted down and lifted the blade he had dropped when he
fell. It was nothing more than an ordinary flip knife.
They had not even given him a real weapon.
They were not event trying.

Pocketing the
knife, Terry glance around the alley and listened. Certain that she
was alone, she grabbed the dead man by the scruff of the hood and
dragged him off into the darkness.

Strange noises
emanated from the darkness, followed by a low growl and the crunch
of bones.

******

Terry coughed,
realising her throat was dry as she stepped into the kitchen. Her
uncle turned and glanced at her as she came in. “Morning.” He said
with a smirk, turning his attention back to the onion he was
dicing.

“Morning.” She
mumbled her voice hoarse. Dipping into the fridge she fetched out a
bottle of water. Guzzling down half of it at once, she wiped her
mouth with the back of her hand and said: “Someone tried to kill me
last night.”

Lyle stopped what
he was doing and turned, his face etched with concern. “Are you
alright?”

She nodded as she
took another mouthful of the quenching liquid. “Oh I’m fine.” She
replied, waving away the question like it was no matter, “He
started following me after I left the club I was at with Conner and
Jo.”

“Who was it?”
asked Lyle, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

She shrugged. “I
don’t know. He was human. He tried sneaking up behind me to stab me
with this.” She handed him the knife.

Lyle examined it.
“This? Is that all?” Deciding that it was unremarkable he shut it
again. “It sounds like he was going to try and mug you. Or stab you
and mug you, or rape you. But he picked the wrong person.”

“It seems a bit
odd though, that that happened last night, what with everything
else that’s happened this week.”

Lyle shrugged. He
handed the knife back to her. “I think it was just a coincidence,
that’s all. You were a woman walking home at night by yourself in
the town centre. It was just a nut job trying to take advantage of
that.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Did you get rid of the
body?”

“I ate him.”

Lyle smirked.
“Good.” He returned to his cooking.

Information

A scream rang
through the rafters as a man was catapulted up into the air,
screaming. He screamed even louder when he hit the floor, his pain
evident in the blood soaked shirt that covered his flabby form. His
face was lumpy, swollen black and blue from unrelenting punches.
One of his eyes was shut, two large bumps forcing it closed his
eyelid was black as pitch. But tears still trickled from it,
flowing over the motley that was once his fair face.

Connor looked
away, wincing as he watched from the side of the altar. The
techniques employed by the Alchemists to torture their victims
always proved to be severe from the start. They certainly never did
anything in half measures.

Terry caught
Connor’s unease but said nothing. The man screamed again, his voice
ringing off the high vaulted ceiling of the abandoned church;
no-one could hear him, and no-one would ever come for him. That she
knew. She also knew that this is where he would die. But she would
not tell Connor that.

They stood well
clear of Lyle who was applying the art of all the weapons at his
disposal. Clamping his fingers around the man’s neck he dragged the
large man up above him, so that the tips of his toes just brushed
against the flagstones.

Lyle moved his
face closer to his. Raising his free hand, a blade slid from his
wrist, until the point of which pressed against the soft pale flesh
of the man’s throat. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll finish
this quickly.” He whispered.

He winced again,
tears rolling down his cheeks as he began to cry. “I don’t know
anything else...I swear.” He sobbed.

“Fine.” Lyle
said, his eyes flashing. He dropped the man to the floor with
a
thud
. Stepping over him, the
Alchemist placed a foot on the back of his right leg. His toes
curled round it like a vice. There was a sickening
crack
and the man howled,
thrashing.

Connor turned
away, cringing as the man screamed the church down. “Is this really
necessary?” Connor asked Terry, without turning back.

It was Lyle who
answered. “He knows something.”

Connor looked back
over his shoulder to find the Alchemist staring at him coldly. He
turned back round to face him. “I don’t think he knows
anything.”

Lyle looked
at him doubtfully. “He
knows
.”

“You’ve been at
this for nearly an hour, he doesn’t know anything!”

Lyle grabbed
the man and heaved him above his head, pointing the blade upward at
his throat again. “He
does
.”
He insisted, his lip curling in the corner. “See
this
? I’ll kill you if you don’t tell
me what I want to know!” he shouted up to the whimpering man,
before turning his attention back to Connor. “He’s seen our kind
before. If he hadn’t he would not have talked to me so calmly, he
would have screamed when we first caught him. He knows who he works
for and he knows what they’re up too.”

“No it doesn’t!”
Connor shouted. “Put him down!” He demanded, approaching the
Alchemist.

Lyle dropped
him without care. “
Fine
, try
it your way.”

“You know, I think
you need to calm down.” Connor said, squaring up to him.

Lyle stared at him
in open contempt. “Calm down?” He looked at Terry, in disbelief of
what he was hearing. “My niece has been threatened twice this week.
Considering whom she is, I’m not going to take such a thing
lightly.”