Session 19 - Marcus Journal

We had been reading non-stop.  It was time to move.  We were all hurt, injured and bloody, as we had been reading, it was Will who had also been cataloguing and packing many of the books and transcripts we had been reading for travel.
We all aided him after a little while, taking our leave one by one from the table of knowledge, the discussions turned to what was to be done about Granny in the corner.  Barely speaking or eating, she knew she was alone in the world.  After several mentions of death and leaving her here, Will and I remembered the Spanish missionary we had encountered outside Loweman’s house.  Surely he would take her.  With no better option, it was decided, we would take her to the mainland and I would see her to the mission.

We loaded all of the books we desired onto the boat Will, Tom and Frank had arrived in, almost at tilting point with all of us on board, we began our return to the mainland.  Loweman was clearly devastated at the death of Savitree, barely moving or lifting his head to anything done or spoken.  He was a phantom, a ghost in human clothing laid bare at the sight of the blaze we had created within the mansion as we left.  No knowledge left in the library would survive, it was too dangerous, no matter how trivial.

As the sun peered through the gloomy sky over the open water, another boat similar to ours was travelling in the opposite direction, towards the island.  All of us glanced at it as there was not another vessel in sight.  To our surprise and horror, Thawi, the old man who ran the fighting ring, three thugs and another bundled up and bruised passenger on board.  The stare of Thawi was keen, immediately turning his boat and coming up behind us some distance away.

We would not outrun him, our boat loaded with books was heavier on the draft, we were not going to get away.  Tom decided to take charge, having more reason than anyone to want vengeance on Thawi, he ordered the boat slow so that they could come closer.  He threw the bag of our equipment in front of us, I pulled out one of the shotguns while Tome took the old hunting rifle.  Will, Frank and Carter all readied their pistols as the pursuing boat crept steadily closer.

Tom took aim of the rear of the boat, I hunched next to him, waiting for them to come within range of my shotgun.  Looking at each of us, we were a mess, Carter was bug eyed and pail, Will was tired, his arm still swollen from the wounds of the fighting pit.  Tom was seeping through his shirt, the thought of revenge the only thing stopping him from falling over, and I was still a mess from the prison cell on the island.  Frank was the only man among us with any clear direction, and he was steering the boat.

Tom’s first shot rang out, a scream from the pursuers as they all took cover.  Within moments I saw the head of one of the thugs peer over the bow of the boat, only to be let by a second shot from Tom, a thin red mist spraying into the air as it disappeared from sight.

The boat kept coming closer, as it was a mere few meters away, still no signs of movement, they were intent on boarding us, that much was certain.  We call moved to the far side of the boat, if they were going to come across, they were going to be met with violence.

As the hulls of the two boats clanked together, two of thugs brandishing machetes leapt into sight, followed closely by Thawi, the orange ooze of nectar emitting from the corners of their mouths.

We all fired together, my shotgun and Carter’s pistol catching one of the thugs in the chest as Will and Frank’s pistols took his head off, falling in between the boats, a slurry of mangled flesh.  Thawi leapt across, both machetes flailing wildly, to our surprise he went straight for Frank.  Slicing and carving, a large slither of blood glided through the air as he caught Frank’s arm with a wild lounge.  Dropping my shotgun, we all fired with our pistols at Thawi, under the intense barrage, his body twisted and spun as he was hit several times in the torso and head, falling to the floor, smoke rising from the barrage of holes left in his corpse.  Turning our attention to the last remaining thug who had also followed Thawi in Frank’s direction, he paused as he saw Thawi drop, all the time we needed to ensure he met the same fate.

Will and I both made our way to Frank, compressing his wounds and bandaging him up as best we could, while Tom threw bodies over the side of the boat.  Once our vessel was clear of the invaders, Carter and Tome jumped to the other boat to investigate the man bound and gagged.  Xuc.

Carrying the broken and beaten Xuc to our boat, Tom kicked the second boat away, sending it drifting into open water.  The small cabin of our boat providing little shelter, yet some warmth as all of us sat inside, breathing deeply as the adrenaline of the fight subsided.  It was Frank who drew our attention to Loweman, still sitting outside at the edge of the boat.  We knew we couldn’t let him roam free, we had little choice.  Who was going to do it, Frank held in front of us a fist full of straws, it was the only way.

It was Frank himself who drew the shortest.  We all sat in silence as he left the cabin and stood at the doorway.  He was a stone. Not moving, while everyone tried to put the thought out of their minds, I followed Frank, placing a hand on his shoulder and moving past him to Loweman.  I sat Loweman on the edge of the boat and began to pray.  No man, no matter how evil deserved any less. I walked back to Frank and asked if he was able, if not, I would do it.  He brushed me off and moved to Loweman, I closed my eyes as I heard the splash of his bound body hit the water before Frank made his way back inside the cabin.

No one said a word until we were in sight of the mainland, the fisherman Tom and Will had bought the boat from was like a silent statue, it was Carter who had the idea of what to do.  We handed over wads of cash to the boat owner if he would take Xuc and the grandmother off our hands, we had no room for dead weight.  He was reluctant, but we didn’t have to deal with them so it was a sigh of relief, guilty relief.

We all walked briskly to our hotel, we were not staying, we would pack and make for the plane in the morning, we needed to get out of here as soon as possible, everyone knew it, especially me.  I rose in the morning to find Tom reading a newspaper, he had been walking around town early and discovered that a large explosion had rocked the mainland.  An explosion based in the district of the Fragrant Honey Shop, was this the aftermath of the death of Savitree?

None of us payed it much mind, we were done here in this place, we had no reason to worry ourselves with what was left, all we thought was that if it stopped the children fighting in the streets and the nectar from flowing, we had done all we could here.  Guilt filled sentiments, but sentiments none the same.

The flight to Hong Kong was bumpy, I had already begun missing our usual method of transportation, every turbulent moment in this craft was like sand rubbing against my bones, scratching and biting at me.  I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Hong Kong was different, somehow stranger than I remember, it could have been that the last time I saw it on the way to Bangkok, I was mostly whole and without injury, now it seemed darker and more overbearing, like everyone was watching, everyone and no one.

When we reached our hotel, Frank and Carter got on the phone to Janet, Frank discussing how were all in bad shape, Carter discussing Edgar Job and the safe removal and isolation of him from Savannah.  Carter was sure Job had some part to play.  Myself, I payed him little mind, I had met the man, interviewed him, he was a nobody, amounting to very little, no signs of promise at all.  If he had, I’m sure he wouldn’t find himself in his current situation.  I denied the urge to talk to Janet, usually Carter would rant and rave, I would be the voice of reason, but after the last time of calling to orchestrate our removal from the Sanitorium, only to find myself in there for another month, I knew my words meant little anymore to that woman.

Two days of rest and recovery, hardly enough to heal the wounds we had all suffered, no doctors, especially for Carter, he knew that the mere sight of his hand would be an immediate imprisonment, and after his night in New York, he wasn’t keen to go back.  Frank finally came to us all with a change in plans, we were to go to France, bound for Marseille.

Something we were not prepared for, but apparently something Janet thought best, I had given up trying to uncover her reasoning, even her motives for continuing to send us into the breach so willingly, her resolve was admirable, even though I could not help thinking that each and every one of us was replaceable when the time comes, if the time comes.  She reminded me of Savitree in that regard, her numerous expeditions, deaths of participants and replacements within days.  It must we a female thing.

The Flight to France was like going home, our familiar plane, our familiar seats, every bump in the air felt like nothing next to the trip to Hong Kong.  I had no idea about Tom however, filling the back of the plane with smoke as he and Carter indulged in opium picked up in Honk Kong.  Their way of staying calm confused me as they were already back in luxury, sleep and rest came easier, however this extra boost seemed unnecessary, to Carter however, I could sympathise.

Landing in France was difficult, I had not been back to this country for so long, everything had changed.  War long done, the people were calm, almost happy, yet in these circumstances, I could not say the same for myself.

Frank had booked us into a relaxing hotel, instructing us to wait and rest until we heard from Janet.  Back on solid ground, the opium taking strong effect, Carter and Tom disappeared into their rooms, not to be seen for the rest of the morning, afternoon and evening.

The morning came late, sleep felt like it had taken hold for an eternity, not that I was complaining, my wounds and those of my compatriots had all taken a toll.  My whole body felt like a boxers sparring bag after being hit all day.  Moving downstairs, Frank had already packed all of our belongings, Carter, Tom and Will were all standing in the Foyer waiting for me.  Carter let out some jest about my late rising.  We were going to Nice, another town where, according to Frank, Janet was waiting for us.

The drive was good, pleasant, no one complaining, we were going to get help, medical help, rest and recovery, or at least that is what we had been told.

We arrived at a nice looking home, a mansion of sorts, grounds and courtyard, two storeys of French design, beautifully crafted to house at least a dozen people, if this belonged to Janet, was this her European retreat? 

We entered the house where Janet waited for us in the pleasant surroundings of the sitting room.  She explained to us that this was to be our centre of operation in Europe, New York had the penthouse, Europe had the mansion.  Everything matched Janet’s particular style, this was another home she had purchased recently from the look of the interior, the smell of polish and freshly applied paint occasionally flowed through my nostrils.  She had done this for us, to continue her father’s work.  She explained that all of the books we had brought from Bangkok were here, being added to the library, we were free to roam the grounds or the nearby township, we were here to rest, recover, gather ourselves for what was to come.

Tom was the first to move, taking one of the bicycles from the garden outside, this was his therapy, he would ride for hours around the quiet French countryside, breathing in the air and sampling the local produce.  Will, well he was a strange one, electing to review and read, his knowledge ever growing as he seemed somewhat desperate to believe in everything we had seen and experienced, his time in Bangkok had clearly taken a toll, he would need to be watched.

Carter also did little, keeping mainly to himself, breaking from his solitude only to reassure others that his hand was fine.  We all had access to the medical staff, Janet had brought in trusted physicians to care for us.  After a couple of days, my wounds slowly healing, I made my way to the church at the end of the long and winding street.  It had been weeks since taking prayer in the house of God, I needed to be there, I needed to keep strong in faith

I rose to the sound of a small bell, my room here in this house was comfortable, everything was always fresh, the linen, the water, the sunshine.  Making my ay down to breakfast, I was greeted by Janet who explained we would all be having visitors arrive shortly, we shared breakfast in the usual fashion, eating quickly, yet controlled, even after days of leisure, we still all seemed to eat as though we did not expect to again for some time.

As we finished our meal, three cars pulled into the turning circle in the courtyard outside.  The four of us and Janet all made out way to the front steps as the doors of the vehicles opened to reveal the most wonderful surprise.

Zoey, my darling wife stepped out to greet my eyes followed closely, hand in hand with my beloved daughter Chloe.  I ran to them, unable to contain my relief at their safety.  Taking my daughter in my arms, she wrapped hers around me, embracing me without hesitation, quite contrary to last time I saw her, my face bruised and broken, she knew who I was, her eyes filling with joy.  Meeting the gaze of my wife, she looked nervous, scared almost, but taking her hand in mine, she knew everything was not as it once was.

They stayed with us for five days, Carter’s son, Tom’s Dog, Will’s wife, they all came to visit, we were all so happy, however while the others were all laughing and enjoying the company of their loved ones, the conversations with Zoey were all about reconciliation.  We sat and spoke for hours, hours and days.  The photos, the threats, the behaviour, the way truth of it all.  Most of the truth, the Yucatan, she has no need to know, nor could she comprehend.  In the end, I know that all of the evil that has befallen myself and my family, has been my doing.  She knows it too, even if she did not speak it, her eyes betrayed her thoughts, she blamed me, for everything.  I could not deny it either, my actions since receiving the letter from Janet, and every step since had invited danger and evil into our lives, something I thought I could do alone, be responsible for alone, face the consequences alone, yet men are wicked, they always find that which we care about most, and make us pay for it.

As our time with our families drew to a close and we waved them goodbye, we all had a breath of fresh air, a hope and goal to keep us going, no more so than Carter, his face had changed, his spirits lifted, his son Carl had done that, he had forgotten about his hand, his perils, his broken bones.

We sat down to dinner to a beautiful meal of red meat, all of us in good spirits after the week of family time.  We began our discussion regarding the journey to Malta, it would be dangerous as the only lead we had to the organisation there was a scrap piece of torn paper listing Montgomery Donovan as the man in charge.  Was he another Brookes? Or merely the Walker?

Carter rose from his chair, buckling slightly at the knees, Janet and Frank both watched him as he slurred his words and his eyes flickered shut.  He fell to the floor only to be almost instantly joined by two physicians who entered from the next room.  Within moments Carter was carried to the study, Tom, Will and I all in a line behind him.  The study had been converted into a mobile surgery, not unlike those I had seen in the war.  Standing at a large table was a surgeon, Janet had arranged it, Carter’s hand was a problem, he had used it on someone, something that could not be allowed.

Carter was strapped to the table, his hand exposed, Will, Tom and I were all summarily marched out of the room, I beckoned for the surgeon to try to remove it with his hand still intact, although how possible that was, I had no idea.

The night was long, I woke in the hallway outside the study to see the surgeon standing over me, the clock chiming four in the morning.  I asked what had happened, only to be told the mouth was gone, nothing more.  I entered the room to see Carter lying on the table, still asleep, his hand, a freshly bandaged nub, not a hand at all.  They had taken his hand.

Carter woke some hours later, cursing and writhing, he was angry, he wanted there to be another way, he knew there wasn’t, but he cursed and screamed it all the same.  I stayed with him, praying my silent prayers and consoling him where possible, his anger turning to tears and sorrow before returning to rage.  Three days of mixed emotions saw Carter back on his feet, his head somewhat sitting on his shoulders correctly again.  He had resigned himself to the truth, now all he could think of was how to turn this stump into a weapon to use against those that would try to take his other.

The journey to Malta was short by comparison to all other travels we had made, we were there in what seemed like no time.  We were met with a truly beautiful looking city, Valetta, it was rich and vibrant, the city itself resembling that of an old citadel, only remade in a western image.  We were well dressed for the climate, linen suits and clothing, light and vibrant.  Deciding to change from our normal standing, we decided to arrange an up-market hotel rather than our usual mid-range lodgings.  Frank took care of that.

Our first port of call once we had landed and found our feet was to begin our investigation into Montgomery Donovan, Carter, Will and I all made our way to the library and office of public records, hoping to find relatively easy information as the language here was more alien to us than anywhere we had previously been.  Tom made his way alone through the markets, in search of opium, his ulterior motive however, finding someone who deals in nectar.

After a couple of hours of searching, Carter stumbled across some newspaper articles regarding Montgomery Donovan.  He was a local celebrity, charity supporter, high and mighty, rich and powerful.  He owned several properties, a townhouse in Valetta, a yacht in the bay and a warehouse just outside of town.  Interesting locations for someone who was loved by the people.

Taking what information we could, we returned to the hotel to find Tom already waiting for us.  He informed us that besides purchasing a fistful of opium, the nectar dealers are found at night, all over the city, mainly in public parks.  Laying out our plans for the evening, Carter would head to the bay, talk to the locals and identify Donovan’s vessel.  Will and I would investigate the town house, after our success with Loweman’s residence, we seemed the obvious choice, concerned with how Carter would act under pressure with a missing hand, I still knew he would know what to do if there was trouble. 

Will and I made our way to Windmill street, the location of Donovan’s house, it was just off the main road, overlooking a vast and beautiful view of the city.  The house itself, a four storey terrace, darkened to the outside, all blinds drawn except for the top floor where the dull glow of lam light tricked out the window.

We continued our investigation, the laneways veering of Windmill street allowing us access to the rear of the block where a large set of garage doors fed into the garage of the property.  As we made our way across the lane, a beautiful car pulled into the lane from the far end, causing Will and I to move out of sight but still able to see what was going on from a short distance away.  The Garage doors opened as two suited men appeared from within.  The car came to a stop inside the doors where two more men appeared, all in conversation, one however was identical to the newspaper article pictures, Donovan was here.  We watched patiently as the men all continued their conversation for a few minutes before all returning inside the compound.  Convinced we had what we needed, Will and I both took our leave and began our retreat to the hotel.

As will and I returned, Carter was also walking into the foyer of the hotel, nodding at us we all made our way to our rooms.  Carter explained that he had been talking to the locals who occupied the docks.  Donovan had his own private pier, a large yacht on the water, some 50 meters out, yet the locals had not seen Donovan for some time, seldom appearing, his vessel never moving.

We then explained that we had laid eyes on Donovan himself, he was still residing in his terrace house, much to the relief of Carter who made mention of his fear of another Brookes situation.

As we spoke, Tom entered the room, a slight smile on his face.  He had found a nectar dealer, a regular spot for the individual.  He would hang around, take an order, send children to retrieve the vials and return to the man to sell.  Every night the man would be there, every night a new chance to go straight to the source.

As Carter explained the situation with the Yacht, it was the obvious choice for us for an easy target of investigation.  We all dressed in our darkest clothes and headed for the pier around midnight.  Tom, Carter and I would take a small boat out to the Yacht, Will would be our spotter on shore, should anyone arrive unexpectedly.

Tom took the lead in securing a boat, within minutes we were at the steps to the yacht named the “Elegance”, moving to the far side, out of sight of the shoreline, we ascended to the deck, Tom and I taking the lead, our pistols drawn in case of security.  The boat itself was completely dark, not a sound, no lights, nothing, like a ghost afloat on the still water.  Carter appeared behind us as we moved to the doors.  All moving inside, we drew every curtain we could so seal ourselves inside as our flash lights lit up and our search began.  Cabins, gallery and kitchen, all luxuries, like the inside of Janet’s plane.  Looking around every room, something was strange, all the liquor was gone, the food was old and rotting, the carpet stained with various colours.  On the walls, shadows where pictures once hung in frames, all removed, in their place, symbols, the same symbols we had seen at every location we had investigated, these smeared with a familiar orange ooze.

Moving through the vessel, remembering to look through the window for Will, all was quiet.  As we moved to the main Gallery and bedroom, again everything was dusty and unkept.  The wardrobe however revealing signs of a woman and child, children’s books lay in the small shelves, women’s gowns hanging elegantly from hangers. The newspaper article had mentioned a woman, a wife, Portia Donovan, was this her escape from the city? Was this where she brought her child? Are they still alive?

Finding little of value, we decided to withdraw.  What we had found was what we expected, nectar, abuse, fear.  All the signs of Savannah, Los Angeles, Mexico, everything was here, the only question was if we were prepared for what Donovan had waiting ahead.

Session 20 - Marcus's Journal

We returned to the hotel, everything was still a blur, Carter and I couldn’t help but think about the remnants of the letter from Donovan to Savitree regarding sacrifice, was he talking about his Wife or child?  We had no idea.

We all decided to take a day to rest, the travel along with the passage through France, seeing our families had taken more energy out of us that we wanted to admit, plus Carter’s current condition required him to move at half pace most of the time.  We spent the day discussing strategy of how to best attack the Donovan operation, Frank, Tom and Will would head back to the pusher in the park, seeking answers as to the source of the nectar, Carter and I would go back to Donovan’s house, just to check it over before heading to his warehouse for the first reconnaissance report.

As the day turned into night, Carter and I set off to Donovan’s house, again, the blinds were drawn, no light emanating from within, nothing but the slight edges of light coming from around the drawn curtains of the fourth floor.  Carter pointed to the roof of the house, gargoyles littered the rooftop, strange that these watchers loomed over a house in Malta, usually reserved for cathedrals and churches.  Looking closer, I could see that the house itself was covered in symbols, not unlike the ones Edgar Jobb and Douglas Henslowe had scratched into the walls of the hospital we found them in.  Some sort of protective warding, I was still yet to understand the specific symbols as these seemed to be yet another variation of them.

The house itself also seemed curiously clean, the external walls looked as though this house had been freshly built, however based on the architecture, it was clear this house had stood for decades, someone was cleaning it, religiously.

After some time inspecting the house, and seeing the look of Carter’s face as he grew more and more frustrated, we decided to drive to the Warehouse.

After about half an hour of driving, we came to the address, a large industrial area, warehouses littering square lots along the road.  The specific address let us to a long drive way that passed several vacant lots and several warehouses standing solemnly against the backdrop of the coast, a small pier at the end of the drive.  We decided to park at the entrance to the drive, not willing to be more conspicuous than we were already.  We walked the length of the drive, coming to rest at the pier, a short distance from the warehouse in question.  Sitting quietly on the pier, we found a local fisherman, a squatter who had made his home along the wharf, a small tin shack standing against the wall of an abandoned building.

Carter struck up a conversation about fishing with the stranger as I watched the warehouse, taking notes as it was alive with activity.  Music coming from within, several men outside and many more within from the sounds of work inside.  A completely fences lot with carpark, guard post and from what I could see, two men on the roof with rifles, three more patrolling the building and two in the guard post.  A minimum of seven to eight well-armed men, this was a whole new level of incursion for us, something we could not take on alone.

Listening in on the conversation between Carter and the fisherman, the warehouse always started work about 4pm until mid-morning, whatever was happening here, it was all being done at night.

We thanked the stranger and gave him some money for food as his fishing did not seem to be yielding great results.  I was concerned that he was a lookout for the warehouse, Carter quickly dismissing the idea as he observed the man closely.

We returned to the hotel to find Frank, Will and Tom already waiting for us.  Their evening uneventful, only revealing the location of the Pusher’s residence.

We discussed the heavily guarded location of Donovan’s warehouse, as it only started operating at 4pm, we thought a daylight investigation was a good idea.  Again we discussed our options for the next day at great length.  Tom and Will were to sit on Donovan’s house, observing his comings and goings.  Carter and I were going to purchase fishing poles and dishevelled clothing and pose as homeless men fishing off the pier near the warehouse during the day.  Frank was going to back up Tom and Will, he knew we could handle ourselves, Tom and Will however seemed to give off too many signs of being wet behind the ears.

We began our day on the pier at 9am, everything was quiet, the fisherman from the night before had returned to his shack, nowhere to be seen.  Both Carter and I keeping a close eye on the warehouse.  Cars were in the lot, guards still in the post, no men on the roof or on patrol though, another separate dock revealed itself to us behind the warehouse, two men stationed on it.  All looked considerably serious, Carter explained they all had the look of military men, or at least ex-military men.  As there was very little activity, we packed up our equipment and decided to go and eat around noon, deciding to come back at about 2.30pm, that way we could see how the men mustered for work at 4pm.

After a light lunch and about a litre of coffee, we returned to the pier, not even five minutes later a car pulled up to the warehouse, a familiar car, Donovan’s car.  He exited with three men, all looking similar to the guards I observed at his house, his personal guards.  Out of the corner of our eyes we also sighted a taxy pass by the entrance to the driveway, slowing down before moving along.  We watched Donovan engage with several members of the guard before driving back out of the area, Carter and I picking up our gear again and exiting only to see the taxi waiting for us, Tom and Will already inside.

Tom explained that in following Donovan, they had seen several encounters, A breakfast meeting at 10am with a local politician, walking on foot to a Café near his house.  Then another walk to the Intensive care unit of the main hospital some 20 minutes of walking away, always flanked by three guards.  After some time, his car would pick him up with three new men inside, the three that had escorted him on foot, returning to his house.  Hailing a taxi, they followed Donovan here, where they picked us up.  We also explained the situation regarding lighter security, a rear dock and low activity for both.

Carter saw the hospital as a positive sign, something was wrong with Donovan, someone was there that he needed to see.  Tom and Will were to return to the hotel, they had not eaten and were both looking tired, Carter and I shedding our poor clothing and dressing well again decided to go to the hospital, who would question a priest and a man minus a hand?

Dressing in my garb and Carter dressing, as he always does, we made our way to the hospital, instructions from Tom were that he visits the third floor, Intensive care Unit.  Entering the hospital was easy, bypassing the reception area and making our way quietly to the third floor and into the intensive care unit.  The nurses taking little notice of us, one of them pushing a cart from room to room, a cart with a strangely familiar group of vials filled with orange liquid.  Observing her for some time, she was administering the nectar to ever person in the ward.  As I passed by the first couple of doors, patients were locals, middle aged women, old men, youths from the streets.

Carter was equally as shocked, what was this place? Were these people coming off the nectar or being put on it?  Carter entered a room, briefly observing the charts hanging on the walls, these people were being weaned off the nectar, their doses gradually reducing.  I couldn’t help myself, I approached the nurse at the station enquiring as to the treatment, requesting to see my visitors pass, she called security, withdrawing from the ward and attracting the attention of the Wardsmen and nurses, I was met in reception by the security, allowing Carter free reign to make his escape unhindered.  I was escorted to the office of Dr Solazzio, the head of the intensive care unit.  He was a strange man, all pomp and no charisma, he enquired as to who I was, giving him the story of a recently transferred priest under the name of White, he issued me a pass immediately.  Sighting a small cabinet behind his desk, it was full of vials, he was involved, he was no doubt the man administering the doses of nectar.

Carter was sitting on a bench outside, he had managed to grab the patient ledger from intensive care, impressive for a man with one hand.  Reading over it together, we had missed the key rooms, Donovan Junior and another child named Alexi, both receiving enormous amounts of nectar, something was wrong, was this what the letter to Savitree had been about, did Donovan sacrifice his son?

We returned to the hotel where Tom was also arriving back from being out and about, he had gotten bored and decided to sit on the Pusher’s house, witnessing the delivery of a few crates of nectar.  The delivery conducted by what he explained was a beautiful woman and a man who looked like he had been through hell in a boxing ring too many times.

Discussing our next plan of attack was hard, do we take on Donovan’s goons in a straight up fight, do we distract them somehow and make a break for it, do we go an entirely different direction.  Carter and Will were the first two to suggest a solution, use the child.  It was clear Donovan cared for his son, he visited him daily, he was connected, do we take Junior and force Donovan into a negotiation?

We needed to find out the routine of Donovan, how were we going to get our hands on him, he clearly knew more than we could imagine, a simple bullet would not fix this operation.  We need to grab him.  We discussed another day of watching, this time, Carter and Will would follow Donovan, Tom and Frank would look into the hospital, I was going to get a boat, something to make transport across water harmonious, not rushed.  If we did grab the child, Donovan’s boat seemed like a good place for the exchange to happen, a place that is secluded, can be seen from a long way out if there is trouble.  It almost sounds like a tangible plan.

I arranged for a boat early in the morning, money wasn’t an issue, whatever we needed it had to be fast and easy to drive.  A small to mid-sized skiff with two motors seemed to be an easy acquisition, anchoring it close to the docks, plenty of room for five mean and potentially a child.  After organising the boat, I took the car directly to the hospital, electing to wait in the hospital grounds for any signs of Donovan and the rest of my team.  Carter was the first to spot me, coming and sitting in the car next to me, Will also entering the rear door of the car.  They took me through the morning’s activities with Donovan.

Donovan didn’t have breakfast at the café, going instead to the opera house, touching a plaque on the wall and having breakfast in the Café there.  The plaque, in memory of his late wife Portia.  From there he travelled down some narrow streets to a small private Mausoleum, again in memory to his late wife.  For some 20 minutes, he stood there alone before continuing to the hospital.  I was starting to have second thoughts; would it be easier to take him at the Mausoleum or here at the hospital?

In the distance, across the open park and scattered trees I sighted Tom, coming from the back entrance of the hospital, his face a clear white shade.  Frank also exited the hospital from the front.  Stepping out of the car, I ushered them towards us before we all drove back to the hotel to debrief.

Tom was clearly shaken, he explained he was able to go in through the back of the hospital, up three flights of stairs, no staff to be seen, exit directly into the Intensive care unit and be within three meters of the room containing Donovan Junior.  He explained he could have taken the boy then and there, no one would have stopped him.  Frank had also stood at the front entrance of the ward, talking to the nurses, his charms clearly seeming to work on them.

We were set, first thing in the Morning we were going to take Donovan Junior.  Donovan himself would be busy, 10am-12am he is out and about, unreachable.  The worst case being that his home is alerted, the car goes to find him and he is notified, by that time we will already be boarding the boat.  The only thing left to discuss, who would do the talking?

Session 21 - Marcus's Journal

The morning was upon us, after a lengthy discussion it was decided that I would drive, Tom and Will would grab both Donovan Jnr and Alexi, we needed to know what was going on with them both, we could not take one without the other.  Frank would do his usual distraction routine with the nurses and Carter would be a lookout based on the layout of the hospital ward.

Before we did anything though, we would need a place to take the children, Frank left early stating that he would be back at the hospital by 8am, enough time to complete the acquisition of the property for the children.  Although late, our snatch and grab operation was underway.  I was the driver, having already been sighted by the nurses and the doctor in charge, my presence would do nothing but be a hinderance if I was discovered.  I dropped everyone off at the rear entrance to the hospital, the rear stairs having been identified as the easiest and quickest access point if things go wrong, Frank arrived in his own car and proceeded into the front of the hospital.  We were to meet at the boat I had secured after the deed so Frank could take the children and we could remain for our next step.

I waited for several minutes, Tom and Will both seemingly anxious, Carter however, far more so.  As the seconds ticked by on my watch, sweat began to flow from my brow, every movement on the hospital grounds making me flinch as I did not want to cause any unwanted attention.

Tome emerged first, a large bundle of sheets wrapped around what I could only assume was a child’s body over his shoulder, Will was directly behind him, holding a similarly wrapped bundle.  Carter then emerged also, his face nervous yet surprised, this seemed to go perfectly, strangely enough.

The children were silent, the drugs in their systems clearly acting as a powerful suppressant for any outbursts.  I drove as to not draw attention, the sweat starting to sting my eyes.  Arriving at the boat, it was some 20 minutes before Frank appeared, giving us time to see the children closely.  Alexi had strange bite marks all over his hands and arms, Donovan Jnr however was untouched, both groggy and confused, we chose to leave them in the car bundled in their sheets, the last thing we wanted was to alarm them and have them scream the docks down.

Frank quickly shuffled them into his car, Carter agreeing to contact him on the number he provided us with at 3am, enough time to have the talk we needed to with Donovan.

As we watched Frank drive off into the distance, there was nothing we could do, we returned to the hotel, coffee and breakfast seemed to be the best idea.  I took my leave and returned to my room to shower, the sweat that I had emitted leaving feeling clammy and smelling not much better.

It was mid-morning that Carter made the phone call to Donovan, his message was simple, Donovan and one man were to meet us on his boat at 10pm.  I wasn’t the fondest of this plan, we were essentially leaving Donovan all day to plan an assault on the boat we would be waiting on.  However Carter had a different notion in his head.  He believed that Donovan was looking for a way out, that he was not the same type of person that Brooks, Trammell and Echiavarria had been.

As night fell over the water, we used the boat I had acquired to ferry ourselves to the “elegance”, Donovan’s boat.  We kept the lights dim, we didn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see us and potentially have a shot at us.  After seeing the security at the warehouse, men with rifles who clearly knew how to use them, I didn’t want to take any chances.

It was close to 10pm when a small boat made its way across the water.  Two occupants within.

Will and Tom stood on the rear deck, all of us had no idea what to expect, we all had our pistols drawn.  The first man climbed aboard, his face clad in shadow in the moonlight, looking around at the four of us, Carter and I by the entrance to the cabin, Will and Tom standing on either side of the man, he motioned for Donovan to come up.  As Donovan climbed to ladder, the man opened his coat, revealing a revolver on his hip, he asked if we wanted to take it, looking at the four of us, we knew that he must be out of his mind if he thought he had any chance of using it effectively.  We decided to let him retain it.

Donovan emerged onto the deck, his eyes bouncing between all of us.  Carter ushered the two men inside the cabin, stating only that we needed to talk.

Sitting Donovan at the small table, Carter sat across from him, the other man who Donovan introduced as his security chief, Walter, sat on a lounge behind Donovan.  Walters eyes sizing up everyone in the room, reminding me of Frank in terms of his collected appearance even in a situation beyond his control, I believed he was not thinking about taking us by force, but merely how many of us he could take with him should things go wrong.

Donovan spoke as we knew he would, questions of money for the return of his son.  Carter cut through the opening financial remarks, despite Donovan’s mentioning that money was not a concern, giving off the vibe we both received from Janet.  Carter proceeded to explain the reason we had abducted his son.  The mouths, the nectar, how this could not continue.  Donovan was like a bucket of water full of holes, explaining that Echiavarria was before his time, he was originally aligned with Trammell, who had sent him to Malta.  The mouth that is here, under the warehouse was summoned by Donovan, just as Brooks had done in Mexico and Trammell had done in LA.  At the mention of this, Will took a particularly rough tone, cutting off the conversation to make his feelings known.  Tom however, never took his eyes off Walter, waiting for the faintest movement that would require a violent reaction.  The only movement coming from Walter when he leaned closer to Donovan and whispered, from what I could hear, he was suggesting Donovan tell us everything.

Donovan continued to explain the situation with his son, he had been sick for years, since the summoning of the mouth, the nectar however was not flowing as it did in the other locations we had been to.  The mouth, known to Donovan as “The Font” demanded a sacrifice.

As Donovan continued to explain, his face changed from anxiety to despair.  It was 1933 when Donovan made his sacrifice, he stood before the mouth with his wife and son, he had chosen to give the mouth is ill child, however when the time came, he could not do it, giving his wife instead.  From that day on, the nectar flowed.  It was not a sacrifice of money or power, but a personal, irreplaceable sacrifice that was required.
Donovan’s son however, remained ill, the mouth telling him what he should do to make is son better, the “treatment” coming from the mouth, the lies.

Donovan wants to be free of this curse he has found himself entangled in.  Carter and I both explained to him that keeping his son here is a mistake, he needs to be as far removed from the mouth as possible.

We turned the conversation in a new direction, how are we going to deal with the nectar and distribution here.  Donovan explained he is now little more than a name.  There are two people in direct control of the operation, a man, Victor Prescott and a woman Diana Hertz.  The two Tom had seen making deliveries.  They had about 30 people on their side, deliveries and production alike.  Donovan had little more than a handful of close protection and security.  However his name did still carry some weight at the factory.

We decided to make a deal with Donovan, we would allow him and his son to leave, alive, relocated to another part of the world, new names, new life, never to return to this again, the conditions being that he aid in our destruction of the warehouse and distribution here in Malta.  Donovan barely hesitated, he agreed without question.  The next conversation was how Walter and his men would take care of Prescott and Hertz, Donovan would then allow us access to the warehouse, doing everything we can to destroy what we found.  Then Donovan would be reunited with his son.

Will and I both shared the same curiosity about Walter, we decided that we would be present for the removal of Prescott and Hertz, just to make sure that they were not playing us.  Carter and Tom would stay on Donovan until we meet for our visit to the warehouse.

As the conversation came to a close, we took the contact numbers for Donovan and Walter, we would be following their every move, if anything didn’t feel right, we walk away and make our own plans.  I felt nothing but pity for Donovan, yes, he had brought this evil into the world here, but he has experience more loss than I imagined possible for a man living the high life.  He was still a man, despite his wrong doings, could he in fact be saved.

We made our way back to the hotel around midnight, Carter turning to drink, Tom to opium, Will to his frustrations, grumbling to himself about not being certain we could trust these men.  I however simply continued my studies, searching my bible for passages to make me feel better about salvation rather than condemnation.

The morning arrived, sunlight piercing through the slightly opened curtains.  Carter was still fast asleep, his snores echoing through the thin walls.  Tom caught my eye, telling me that Frank is expecting us this evening with Donovan, after everything is done here.

After a good breakfast and some more light reading of several books from the SS library, Will and I sat in the car outside the pusher’s house where Tom had followed him to in the last few days.  It wasn’t long before the familiar face of Walter exited a car a little further up the road, two of his men with him.  They branched out across the road like limbs of a spider, one man sitting in a café across the road, the other moving the car down the road and out of sight, Walter himself entering the house and closing the door behind him.

After another 15 minutes, another car arrived, Prescott and Hertz.  As Prescott removed a crate from the trunk, the car with Walter’s man appeared back on the street, widows down, a hail of bullets from a tommy gun shattering the peaceful street and slamming into Prescott’s torso, sending him to his haunches.  The man sitting in the café also sprung to life, advancing on the car and emptying the magazine from what looked like a broom-handle Mauser pistol into the driver.  Prescott rose to his feet again, his body leaking blood everywhere, turning to face the car he drew his pistol and began raising it at the man who had crossed from the Café.  As he did so, the door of the house opened to reveal Walter who let a blast from a shotgun tear into the back of Prescott’s skull.

Within moments everything was done, bodies thrown in the trunk, the only evidence, blood stains of the pavement and brass in the gutter.  Watching this violence unfold, Will had a slight look of satisfaction on his face, as though he secretly enjoyed watching a gangster film unfold in front of his eyes.  All I could do was pray silently in my head, these may have been bad people, but did they deserve death.

Will took the wheel as I managed to doze off for a little while, my heart racing after the bloody scene, I needed a break.  Waking in the car, we were already on our way to the Warehouse, Will had spoken to Walter who in turn had arranged with Donovan for us to be allowed inside.  Meeting with Carter, Tom, Walter and Donovan at the gate, we made our way inside across the stepping stones, being warned not to step on the grass as it is full of mouths.

Once inside, Donovan called everyone to attention, all the workers and security.  Announcing that they are shutting down due to unfortunate events, Donovan dumping a large bag of money on the central table.  Explaining that this was to keep them going until work started up again but with no estimated commencement time.  After a slight ruckus, Walter shot one of the ringleaders of the dispute, after that, everyone took a handful of money and exited the building.

We had free reign over the building, Walter left us to wander.  Upstairs offices, downstairs tunnels, it was going to take a while.  Splitting up we all traversed numerous caverns and tunnels discovering ledgers of production and assorted notes.  After roaming the tunnels for some time, we came across a small office.  Donovan’s office, on the desk, something that was strangely familiar, a spell of sorts, a spell to open the sky, only unlike the one I had previously memorised this was more intense, more powerful, something to reveal a far deeper meaning.  Next to the spell, a letter from Brooks, requesting from Donovan of all things, to open the way to the Maw.

Another search of the tunnels revealed a temporary wall of timber and nails, from under the door, flowing across the tunnel floor and disappearing behind another door, nectar, rich, orange nectar.  We knew where it came from and against our desires, we decided not to open the door, we had seen a mouth before, something we all wish we hadn’t.

We left the Warehouse, all convinced that this place was going to require attention. But how, in the middle of an industrial area, we couldn’t just burn it down.  We watches as Walter and Donovan locked the gates and drove away behind us.

Carter took his leave of us, opting to make is way to the location Frank had given us of where to find the children.  He was to pick up Donovan and continue with the deal we had made.  Asking us to meet him there, Carter disappeared into the evening air.  Tom, Will and I all packed our belongings, taking the time to make sure we hadn’t missed anything.

The directions we had been given were vague at best, an address in a distant suburb.  It took some time but we managed to get there without getting too lost.

We entered the house to see the two children sitting on a lounge in the living room, Donovan sitting next to his son, holding his hand.  One of Donovan’s men standing close by, not Walter, but someone as equally imposing.  Carter also leaned against a door frame, breathing heavily, there was no sign of Frank.  Had we just missed him? What was going on.