Hellboy, Vol. 2: The All-Seeing Eye (30 page)

When she was done, she twisted the strips into tight corkscrews to strengthen them, then bound the man hand and foot. Once he was incapacitated, she wiped the blood carefully away from around his nostrils and mouth, checked to make sure he could breathe okay through his broken nose, and then gagged him. She dragged his body to the far end of the dormitory and rolled it under the furthest bed from the door, out of sight. The man was all but fully conscious now and staring at her with undisguised hatred.

Liz reached into a pouch on her belt and withdrew a small brown bottle. Extending her arm, holding the bottle directly under the man’s nose, she pulled out the rubber stopper. He continued to glare at her for a few seconds, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and his eyelids closed.

“That’s right,” Liz said, “you have a nice little sleep.” She patted his face and left the room, switching the light off behind her. She noticed there were spots of blood on the wooden floor of the corridor. Using one of the remaining strips of blanket material, she wiped them up.

Gun out, making no attempt at pretense whatsoever now, she checked out the games room and the men’s dormitory. The games room was empty, and the dormitory contained only its sleeping inhabitants. That done, she moved to the head of the stairs and listened, but all remained quiet below.

She sat down on the upper landing, her back against the wall. All she could do now was wait, and right here was pretty much the best place to do it. From this position, she would hear if anyone entered the building downstairs, be it via the main door or through the kitchen at the back. She would also hear if anyone started to ascend the staircase, and so would have plenty of time to find a hiding place.

She felt happier now, more in control of the situation. Now no one could sneak into the building without her knowing it, or take her by surprise. She briefly considered calling Hellboy again, then discarded the idea. It was best to stay quiet, she thought, and to keep her hands free of everything but her gun, in case something unexpected happened.

She didn’t know how long she had been waiting before she heard sounds of activity downstairs. She guessed it was well over an hour, maybe even close to two. Although she had been too tense to feel tired, Liz had sensed her mind beginning to drift a couple of times during the waiting period. Whenever that happened, or whenever her limbs or back began to stiffen up, she got to her feet and walked up and down a little bit, in the hope that if the Hipkisses heard her downstairs they would assume it was the guy whose nose she had broken. She wished she had something to eat. She’d had nothing since her half-finished meal in the Three Cups at lunch-time. Her stomach was rumbling so loudly she felt sure it could be heard throughout the building.

Eventually, just as she was beginning to wonder what she would do if the members of the Eye
didn’t
show up, the quiet was broken by three stealthy taps on the main door downstairs. Instantly Liz was on her feet and all but leaning over the banister to listen. She heard an internal door open, footsteps on the wooden floor in the lower corridor, and then the sound of bolts being slid back. Liz felt the faintest kiss of cool air on her skin as the main door was pulled open and a breeze passed through the building. There was an exchange of low voices, the words too muffled for her to make out. Then more footsteps as the new arrivals, two or three of them maybe, entered the building.

The main door was closed with a slight thump. Still Liz tried to make out what the men — she was sure they were men — were saying. However, she could discern nothing of the conversation, apart from the fact that one of the speakers was Alex Hipkiss, and that another had a deep, rumbling voice, and seemed to be speaking with a foreign accent.

After a brief conversation the men started walking along the corridor. However, because of the slight distortion of sound as it echoed up the stairwell, Liz didn’t realize they were ascending the stairs until she heard one of the lower steps creak.

Immediately she crossed silently to the men’s dormitory, having decided that this would be the most likely room that the abductors would enter. She slipped inside, paused for no more than a second to allow her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, and then moved along the central aisle between the beds to the far end. When she reached the final bed on her right, in which a bewhiskered old man was lying on his back and snoring gently, she dropped onto her stomach and rolled underneath.

Sure enough, a few seconds later the door opened and a spill of light entered the room. Liz lay motionless, gun at the ready, and peered through the low tunnel created by the even row of beds. Three pairs of feet followed the light into the room, casting thin black shadows before them. There was a pause, then a low guttural voice in an accent that Liz recognized broadly as African, said urgently, “Don’t switch on the light.”

“It’s quite safe,” replied Alex Hipkiss, sounding so cool and self-assured that he seemed like a different man to the amiable hippie she had met earlier. “They won’t wake up.”

“And even if they did ...” said the third man, whose voice was richer and more cultured than his companion’s, yet with a twang of that same African accent. He then said something in a language which Liz didn’t understand, but which made the two Africans laugh.

“Very amusing, I’m sure,” Hipkiss said, sounding peeved at being excluded from the conversation,”but you can put that away. I’m not cleaning up your mess.”

One of the men sighed. Then the African with the more cultured voice said, “Despite what you say, Mr. Hipkiss, let’s do as Solomzi suggests and keep the light off. There’s no point taking unnecessary risks, and we can see well enough with the light from the corridor.”

The door was opened wider, presumably to spread a little more illumination, and the men moved further into the room.

“So who do we take, Mr. Hipkiss?” the third man asked.

Liz saw Hipkiss’s feet swivel in one direction, then another, and assumed he was pointing out potential victims.

“This one’s strong enough ... that one too ... and him ... and ... him ...”

“All men?” the third man said, his voice gently mocking.

“What’s the difference?” said Hipkiss coldly.

The guttural man laughed and muttered something, which made him laugh all the more.

“I think your friend has got his priorities wrong,” Hipkiss said in the same cold voice. “This isn’t about individual gratification.”

“Males may endure longer, but the female reaction is more intense,” said the third man. “The muti is therefore purer.”

“You’ll have to forgive my skepticism,” said Hipkiss dryly, “but by all means, take a couple of the women if you want to. It amounts to the same thing in the end.”

One of the men walked over to a bed halfway down Liz’s row and stood beside it. Although Liz could only see him from his knees down, she got the impression he was well dressed, in suit trousers and polished black leather shoes. He stood there a while, and Liz wondered what he was doing. Finally, in his guttural voice, he said, “This one is ready. Help me with him.”

“I hope you haven’t given him too much of that stuff,” Hipkiss said. “We do need him awake for the final ceremony.”

“I know what I am doing,” said the guttural-voiced man indignantly.

Although she could only see their feet, and hear the sounds that they were making, Liz knew that Hipkiss and the two Africans were lifting the drugged man from the bed. From what they had said, she gathered that he had been given some kind of supplementary drug, one that would presumably ensure he remained unconscious until they had transported him to wherever the “final ceremony” was due to take place.

The drugged man was carried from the room and down the stairs. Liz assumed that they would load him into whatever mode of transport they had brought with them and then return for the next victim. Again, she thought about calling Hellboy but decided that the risk was too great. Hopefully he and Abe were currently observing what was going on, keeping a low profile and biding their time. Everything now depended on their not being discovered, on being able to tail the Eye members without making them suspicious. From the way the men had been talking, the “final ceremony” would be taking place soon. If she, Hellboy, and Abe were not there to stop it, there was every likelihood that the ensuing maelstrom would do untold damage before they could even
begin
to regroup.

Something else to think about was
how
they were going to tail the Eye members through the all-but-deserted streets without being spotted, but she guessed they would have to deal with that when the time came. That question, of course, led to another: how had the Eye members managed to get here in the first place without attracting the attention of the police and military patrols dotted about the city?

Before she had time to ponder on the puzzle, the men were back and prepping another of the sleeping residents for the journey ahead. This time, as they exited, they pulled the dormitory door closed behind them, consigning the room once again to darkness. Liz took this as a sign that they had finished, and that they would next move across to the women’s dormitory to repeat the process. Hoping she wasn’t wrong, she slid from under the bed and ran silently up the aisle to the door. She pressed her ear against it, listening for sounds of the men coming back. After a couple of minutes she heard the creak of their feet on the stairs. As a precaution she ran across to the nearest bed and slid beneath it. Holding her breath, listening hard, she heard the low rumble of the men’s voices, and then the click of a door opening on the opposite side of the corridor.

She hadn’t been wrong. They were entering the women’s dormitory. She slid back out from under the bed and pressed herself against the door once again. She hoped they wouldn’t find the unconscious man under the bed at the far end of the room. If they did the game would be up. Her heart pounded as she waited, half expecting to hear an exclamation of surprise from the men. However, after a minute or two she heard them come quietly back out of the room and start to make their way down the stairs. From the slow way they were moving it was clear they were carrying another body.

A few minutes later they were back for their fourth, and presumably final, victim. As they began to descend the stairs, Liz knew this was where the tricky part would begin. Somehow she had to keep close enough to the men without being spotted to make it outside in time to join Hellboy and Abe before they set off in pursuit of whatever vehicle the men were driving.

From here on in, therefore, it was going to be down to precise judgment and a huge amount of luck. She waited until she was sure the men were at the bend on the stairs, and thus no longer in sight of the upper landing, and then she eased the dormitory door open and slipped out. Now she could hear the men below. They had reached the bottom of the stairs and were moving along the corridor towards the front door. Hoping that the clomp of their footsteps would mask the sound of her descent, she crept down the stairs, keeping to the inner side of each step to reduce the creak of the old wood. When she was halfway down she dropped to her haunches and peered around the handrail at the point where it curved back on itself and descended to the floor below. The two Africans, carrying the unconscious, blanket-shrouded body of a woman, were almost at the front door, Alex Hipkiss hovering behind them. Liz could see that both Africans were tall with close-cropped hair, one lean and hollow cheeked, the other bulkier and broad shouldered. The lean man’s skin was so dark that it seemed to gleam like plastic. Both were wearing suits and ties, which made them look like businessmen, or hospital consultants.

For Liz, the next couple of minutes would largely rely on how long Alex Hipkiss hung about in the corridor after the men had gone. If he stood in the open doorway and watched them leave, her chances of joining Hellboy and Abe would be zilch. If, however, he closed the door after them and went straight back into the office, then she would have a chance.

Muscles thrumming, poised for action, she waited to see what he would do. She saw the men carry the woman outside, Hipkiss follow them as far as the door, his left hand reaching out to encircle the inner handle.

Close the door and go
, Liz urged
him. Just close the door and go. As
if obeying her silent command, he pushed the door closed behind the men and began to slide the bolts back,into place. However, he did it, in Liz’s eyes, agonizingly slowly. She clenched her teeth, imagining the two men loading the body into their van or truck, and then hauling ass out of there while she remained stuck at the top of the stairs, missing out on the action.

At last Hipkiss completed his door-locking routine and turned round. Suddenly aware that her eagerness was making her reckless, Liz shrank back, slowly releasing the long, frustrated breath she had been holding in her lungs. She counted to three, then chanced another peek into the hallway below. She caught the barest glimpse of Hipkiss disappearing into the office to the left of the main door.

It was now or never. She was going to have to go for it. She wasn’t frightened of Hipkiss or his wife — she felt more than capable of dealing with them — but she
was
frightened of being delayed, or of the Eye being alerted to her presence. Lithe and silent as a cat, she ran down the stairs, which barely creaked beneath her weight.

She was reaching out to undo the first of the heavy bolts on the main door when Hipkiss re-emerged from the office.

He stared at her in astonishment, an empty coffee mug in his hand. Then his expression stiffened and a coldness came into his eyes. He threw the mug at her head to distract her and darted back towards the office door.

Liz was too quick for him. She dodged the mug easily, which shattered against the wall behind her, brought up her gun, and started running forward all in the same movement. Hipkiss had got the door half closed when Liz smashed into it, booted foot first. The force of her momentum caused the door to fly open and Hipkiss to stagger backwards. His face creased with pain as his back slammed into the edge of a desk hard enough to make a pile of books fall over and avalanche onto the floor in a slithering heap.