Free The Network by Luke Delaney

gut-wrenching possibility that he’d been set up by the other members of The Sanctum who wanted him gone dawning on him. Somehow they’d got hold of Conway’s phone and used it to text him – luring him into their trap.
Press the alarm
he ordered his finger and thumb, but still they wouldn’t. Maybe the other members of The Sanctum had already got rid of Conway. A leadership coup by the men in balaclavas. ‘I know what you are,’ the faceless man continued. ‘You’re a fucking grass. A police informant.’
    ‘You’re wrong,’ Sean told him sounding as strong as he could. ‘I did time with John – he’ll vouch for me.’
    ‘Then you’re a plant.’
    ‘No. I’m part of The Network. I’ve never told anybody anything.’
    ‘Then you’re a cop,’ he accused him, turning Sean’s blood to frozen crystals, robbing him of the last breath in his lungs. ‘An undercover cop.’
    Sean managed to shake his head feigning disbelief. ‘You’re a fool,’ he bluffed. ‘I’ve been in The Network since it began. How could I be a cop?’ The balaclava rested the sole of his shoe on Sean’s chest and kicked him backwards onto the floor.
Press the alarm. They know. Press the alarm
.
    ‘Because no one’s ever seen you,’ the man shouted. ‘The Unicorn could have been a cop all along – trying to infiltrate us.’
    ‘No,’ Sean argued. ‘That’s not possible.’
    ‘Why?’ the balaclava demanded. ‘Why’s that not possible?’
    ‘Because I’ve been circulating images of children for years. Images those who don’t understand us say are illegal. Cops aren’t allowed to commit crimes – even if they’re trying to infiltrate people – people like us.’
    ‘You seem to know a lot about it,’ the man accused him, lifting the baseball-bat high above his head in readiness to strike. Sean’s finger and thumb poised to squeeze the fob, until a voice froze him.
    ‘That’s a very nice car you have there,’ Conway told the gathering, his voice calm amongst the storm. ‘I didn’t know you were a car man?’
    ‘One of my more conventional interests,’ Sean answered.
    Conway made a dismissive gesture to the man standing over Sean with the baseball-bat that prompted him to lower his weapon and back away. ‘This really is a beauty,’ Conway told him, admiring the old Zodiac. ‘Tell me, Justin – do you know what sign of the Zodiac I am?’
    ‘No,’ Sean admitted, puzzled.
    ‘Scorpio,’ Conway told him, ‘which is also the astrological symbol for death. Did you know that?’
    ‘No,’ Sean repeated.
    ‘Out there in deep space,’ Conway explained, ‘hundreds of light-years away there’s an area known as The Heart of the Scorpion, or The Graveyard of the Stars. You see, Justin, even stars have to die – eventually.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ Sean answered, guessing Conway wanted it that way – the king ruling over his ignorant subjects.
    ‘Of course you don’t,’ Conway told him. ‘Get up.’ Sean did as he was told, brushing the dust and dirt from his clothes as he scrambled to his feet, keeping an eye on the balaclava with the bat in his peripheral vision. ‘I need to show you something,’ Conway continued. ‘I’m going to take you somewhere very … special.’
    ‘Why?’ Sean asked. ‘Why me?’ At that moment, Sean’s own need to know what Conway saw in him was far stronger than his detective’s instinct to find out the truth about The Network. How could a monster such as Conway seemingly want him as a
friend
? He may have been using the name Justin Cramer, his past and habits, but it was Sean who Conway seemed to empathize with and he needed to know why.
    ‘Because we’re the same – not like these others,’ Conway gestured to the men in balaclavas. ‘They have no imagination – just needs which they satisfy with the crudeness of a rutting pig. I’m the one who makes it special. Without me there would be no Network – there would be no Sanctum. But you’re different