CHAPTER ONE

A MIDNIGHT EXTRACTION

The cacophony of the city had long since gone to bed. A crescent moon rose gradually into the dark sky and a lazy fog weaved itself through the streets and flowed gently over the lapping waters of the Thames, covering the river like a giant rolling blanket. 

            Only a handful of people now paced the cobblestone streets, briskly striding through the darkness, their collars turned up against the cool summer air. Their shadows disappeared and reappeared as they stepped through the circular swaths of light cast from the streetlamps.

            Above the stillness, watching from a penthouse balcony, stood a solitary figure, his gaze outstretched over London’s dazzling skyline. Suddenly, he turned his head, looking over his shoulder back toward the light of his apartment. A telephone rang, disrupting the calm of the moonlit night. The figure seemed hesitant to follow the sound at first, but reluctantly pulled away and disappeared into the warmth of the room.

            The interior of the high-rise apartment shimmered with lavish luxury. Glass walls spanned three sides of the vast living room from floor to ceiling, dwarfing the moody black leather furniture, and provided a wide view of the entirety of the city.

            The man, now stepping across the marble floors, picked up his cellphone and with a deep, prolonged inhale, pressed it to his ear.

            “A call from The Carter Institute,” an automated woman’s voice shrilled, “To accept please state your full name.”

            “Thomas James Beckett,” the man recited in an even tone, his voice firm. There was a pause on the other end and then a different voice spoke.

            “Mr. Becket, you will receive a package in the next five minutes. Instructions are contained within. A car will be waiting for you outside in ten minutes,” the voice said, and then just as abruptly as the call came, it ended.

            Thomas slipped the phone inside the pocket of his suit jacket and looked into the glass mirror on the living room wall. He hardly recognized the man who stared back. A young 23-year-old, with broad, relaxed shoulders, short cropped brown hair, square, clean shaven jaw and sharp eyebrows was standing in the reflection with his arms folded.

            But it wasn’t any of those features he found foreign. He had always been well built, and rather handsome, always sporting a clean-shaven look. No, the strangest thing he saw in the mirror was the fine silk suit he was wearing. And the Rolex watch strapped to his wrist. It was the crystal chandelier hanging behind him, and the priceless artwork which adorned the walls around him. He still hadn’t gotten accustomed to being wealthy. It felt unnatural. Like living inside someone else’s dream. His swift rise to fame within The Institute had been unprecedented, and he was hoping that time would help acclimate him to his new found riches.

            A sound outside his door turned his focus away from the mirror. A small, indiscreet box was sitting on the doorstep. In the bottom corner was scrawled a petite, intricate letter “C” and a security label sealed the box closed.

            As Thomas carried it back inside, he checked his watch. It read exactly five minutes since the phone call. It unnerved him how accurate The Institute operated, and he’d always wondered, ever since he received his first box two years ago, how they managed.

            But he had soon accepted the fact that most of his questions would never get answered. It was part and parcel of working at The Institute, especially in the position he held as an Extractor. Do as your told, no questions asked. That was the motto.  

He set the box on the kitchen island. He knew what would be inside. A note, with minimal details about the extraction. And one or two artifacts with corresponding instructions.

            Thomas pried the label off and opened the box. His brow furrowed. It was practically empty. The only thing it contained was a small silver coin, which Thomas turned out onto his palm. It appeared Roman, with the image of a Caesar etched into its surface. The edges were eroded leaving it rounded and somewhat irregular in shape.

            Thomas peered back into the box and found a simple note, which read:

---Instructions of Use---

Roman Coin

With the thumb of the right-hand, rub the edge of the coin in a clockwise motion three times

Effect: Unlocks any door

            A useful little artifact, Thomas thought. But there was something unsettling about it being the only thing in the box. It was the first time he’d not received any instructions about the extraction. It wasn’t typical, and if he knew anything about The Institute, they never diverged from routine. He felt an unease crawl up his spine.

            He checked his watch. Two minutes till the car. He had just enough time to grab the one thing that seemed to always restore his confidence. Thomas slipped the coin into his jacket pocket and jumped up the stairs. Getting on a knee in the bedroom closet, he toggled at a metal safe’s spinner. Inside were a handful of odd objects. Two colored gemstones. A gold cross. A marble pyramid.

Thomas reached his hand inside and pulled out an hourglass no bigger than the size of his fist. The soft golden sand toppled inside the delicate glass casing. Unlike the Roman coin, it came with no instructions. Thomas didn’t need any to make this work. He’d used it many times. It had gotten him out of a couple sticky situations before. He placed the hourglass in his other suit pocket. He felt the fabric stretch slightly and doubled checked to make sure the bulge from the oddly shaped artifact wasn’t visible.

He glanced at his watch. Time to go. He hurried from the penthouse, rode the elevator down to the lobby and was on the street in the nick of time. A black SUV rolled up as he stepped to the curb. The back window rolled down and the face of an ogre-like man grimaced at him…Griggs. Why did it have to be Griggs tonight! He’d heard enough about Randolph Griggs to make his insides squirm. An extractor with a terrible reputation. Granted, Thomas had to admit, Griggs’s record was flawless, but his methods seemed questionable at best.

            “You’re in the front,” Griggs barked, in a slight northern accent. The front? They never sat in the front with the drivers. This whole night was one of unnatural firsts. And he didn’t like it. There was something going on here. It felt like he was on the outside of an inside joke.

Thomas shimmied himself into the front seat. The driver, with a stone-cold composure, gripped the steering wheel with both hands. He was older than most of the drivers Thomas had worked with, probably late sixties and wore a black button down and gloves to match. As Thomas shut the door, the driver kept his eyes pinned attentively out the windshield on the road.

            Thomas soon found the reason why he was sitting in the front seat. Another man sat in the back next to Griggs. He was skinnier than his colleague, but so was everyone when compared with Griggs. His entire head was smooth, without so much as a trace that even a single hair had ever grown there. He wore an immaculate suit and tie, almost as nice as Thomas’s. His eyes were sharp and shadowy. His nose was pointed, long and slightly crooked, as if he had broken it many times before. There was a jagged, bubbling red scar running down the side of the man’s neck, starting from his earlobe till it disappeared beneath his starched collar.

            As if Thomas’s night couldn’t have gotten worse. Silas Cooper was the one extractor Thomas had vowed never to work with. And if there was anyone worse than Griggs, it was Cooper.

Cooper didn’t smile as he caught Thomas’s stare in the rearview mirror. There was unmistakable loathing in the man’s eyes. Thomas nodded curtly and turned his gaze forward. He swallowed, trying to remain calm. He’d never felt comfortable with Cooper. There was something slimy about the man. The way his eyes peered scathingly at you and the horrible sneer his face made when he laughed.

Both Cooper and Griggs were elder extractors, having tenures at The Institute significantly longer than Thomas. They were in charge here. There was no question about that. And the idea sent shivers down his spine.

On the other hand, the aspect that The Institute had partnered its top three extractors for a single case, meant something. What it meant exactly; Thomas had little idea, but whatever they were going after tonight must either be something extraordinary or something extremely dangerous. Or both. 

With a command from Cooper, the driver put the car into gear, and they sped off into what just ten minutes ago had been a quiet English night. No one said much as they drove. Grigg’s tapped his foot impatiently. Cooper was deathly silent, not a muscle moved except the occasional twitch from his neck, on the scar side. The driver trained his eyes on the foggy road. The drivers always knew where they were going without any directions. Thomas was impressed as the car swerved through the streets, left, then right, left, another left, then right. Extractors, like himself, were never granted the privilege of knowing the destination of a case. Only the drivers.

In fact, there was usually little information provided on a case in general. The Institute thought it an unnecessary risk. Privacy and secrecy were of vital importance. The only information extractors received were usually delivered with the assigned artifacts. Thomas thought back to the box with the Roman coin. He still couldn’t understand why he’d not received any instructions for tonight.

He glanced at Cooper and Griggs through the rearview mirror. Had they’re boxes also been lacking information? Or did they know something Thomas didn’t? Thomas tugged at his sleeve cuffs, suddenly aware of how hot the car had become. He moved to switch the dial on the dash, but the driver caught his wrist with lightning speed. Thomas pulled his hand back and settled into his seat as he heard Griggs scoff.

            They had driven for an hour when Thomas noticed the car starting to slow as they navigated through petite neighborhood streets. The houses were small here, and the streetlamps were few and far between, leaving most of the pavement in an obscure darkness. Thomas strained his eyes looking for clues as to their location and spotted a street sign which read Hamley Place. The driver turned the car into the street and pulled to a stop.

            “Number 52,” he said, pointing across Thomas’s chest toward a rundown shack. The building at one time probably looked rather quaint but had since fallen to disrepair. Its walls were a faded gray, tagged with obscene graffiti. The grass in the yard was overgrown, and English ivy infested the garden wall to a point where Thomas had at first thought the entire thing to be made entirely of ivy.  

            Surprisingly, all the lights were on in the house, except one window on the second floor, which had its shutters drawn closed. Thomas thought he saw two eyes peeping from a space between the blinds. He blinked and they were gone.  

            “This is an in and out case,” Cooper instructed. His voice cold and raspy. “Simple and easy. Our intelligence confirms minimum personal on the premise. One, maybe two. No more than that.” Thomas felt his throat dry and a bead of sweat form on the back of his neck. So Cooper’s box had contained more information than his own. Th realization sent cold beads of sweat down Thomas’s back. He didn’t like being in the dark. There was something sour about this whole affair.

            “Artifacts are to be used at users’ discretion. Any questions?” Cooper looked at Griggs, purposefully avoiding Thomas’s eye. Griggs shook his head and the two got out of the car.

            “Wait,” Thomas called after them, scrambling from the vehicle. He followed as the two men moved up the walk toward the door. “What’s the objective? What’s the extraction?” Thomas felt his voice splutter as Cooper rounded on him with a perturbed look.

            “If you don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t be here,” Cooper hissed. “Ironic you weren’t informed, being the wonderkid and all,” he sneered horribly.

            “We’re wasting time,” Grigg’s growled. Cooper held up a finger.

            “You’re out of your depth prodigy,” Cooper annunciated every syllable, savoring the moment. “Go wait in the car.”

            For a split-second Thomas thought that sounded like a splendid idea. Everything about this night was wrong. It made sense he’d just sit this one out. But he knew that wasn’t an option. His curiosity was peeked beyond his control. Cooper knew something he didn’t. And he was damned if he didn’t find out what that was.

            “I think you’ll find you need me to open the door.” Thomas said, flicking the Roman coin in the air casually as he stepped past Cooper.

            At the front step, Thomas took a deep breath, glanced up one last time at the dark window, and rubbed the coin clockwise three times. There was a small pause and then from the other side of the door, he heard the lock slide open. What happened next went by in a flash.

            Before the lock had even finished moving, Griggs barreled into the house. As he passed, Thomas caught a glimpse of a tiny figurine in Grigg’s hand. The large man whispered to it and suddenly he was as quiet as a mouse. It was as if Griggs had miraculously muted himself. All his movements; his footsteps, his breathing, even his clothes rustling made not even the slightest sound.

            The bulky extractor disappeared upstairs. Cooper shoved Thomas inside, closed and locked the door, and started to set about the house in a determined fashion. Thomas now had a sinking sensation he’d been right about being out of the loop. Cooper and Griggs had discussed a plan beforehand, clearly keeping Thomas out. It was then Thomas noticed all the papers.

            They littered the floor and tables and countertops. Having run out of room, it seemed the owner had then started tacking them to the walls. It was as if Thomas had stepped into an insane asylum. He pulled the closest one off the wall. It looked to be a map of somewhere in the middle east, but he didn’t recognize any of the countries or their names. There was a date scribbled at the bottom that read 76 BCE. Keeping hold of the map, he picked another paper off the coffee table. He flipped it over and discovered an address hastily scribbled in blue ink.

            “You don’t have clearance to touch any of this. I told you, its best you wait in the car,” Cooper said, snatching the map from Thomas’s hand, not noticing Thomas stuffing the scrap of paper into his pants pocket.

They were standing in a quaint sitting room. Beneath all the papers Thomas saw a stained beige carpet and, on the walls, a rose wallpaper. At the back of the room was a rounded arch leading to a kitchen. The stairs, which Griggs had ascended, were to Thomas’s left and directly situated in line with the front door.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud from upstairs. An eerie silence settled over the room. Cooper put his finger over his lips as he tiptoed toward the stairs, pressing himself against the side of them, so anyone coming down wouldn’t see him. 

            Thomas heard the floorboards creak as someone moved above them. Either Grigg’s artifact had worn off surprisingly quickly or that thud was Griggs hitting the floor. To be able to knock over a man of Grigg’s size would be…Thomas’s thoughts trailed off as he heard movement at the top of the stairs. Cooper removed something from his pocket and shook it five times.

Thomas felt for the roman coin in his suit, not knowing what use it would be from here on out, but feeling its purpose was not yet over. His other hand intuitively went to the lump in his chest pocket. If the coin wasn’t enough, and things got really bad, he still had the hourglass.

            There was a moment of calm and then someone rushed down the stairs. Cooper lunged but missed, hitting the wall with his shoulder. The person, dressed in a brown trench coat, tried opening the door, but fumbled with the lock. It was enough time for Cooper to recover. He seized the man by the hair, pulling him to the ground. Then he dragged him up against the wall. The man struggled, trying desperately to break free, but it was no use. Thomas then discerned two things at once.

            The first: Cooper’s artifact must have given him immense strength; being able to restrain the man so easily. And two: the man wasn’t a man at all, but a girl, with the whitest hair Thomas had ever seen. He stepped closer. She noticed him and their eyes locked. He was stunned by how blue and clear hers were. They pierced him and the room seemed to disappear.  All thoughts, all emotion, all reality melted away and it felt as if he were alone with the girl. Just them two. Nothing else.

            “Don’t just stand there! Go see if there’s anyone else upstairs!” Cooper yelled, snapping Thomas from his dream. It seemed to snap the girl from hers as well because she started to struggle again. She managed to break free from Cooper’s grip, but he was still quicker and threw her against the wall again, this time holding her up by her throat. She coughed and kicked but it was no use.

            “We’ve got you now little rabbit,” Cooper whispered nastily, squeezing her neck tighter with his enhanced strength. The girl’s face grew red and then blue. Thomas felt sick. The girl stopped kicking as her head went limply to the side and Thomas thought Cooper had strangled her to death, but then saw tears starting to stream down her cheeks. Cooper chuckled and it was that heartless, repulsive laugh that made Thomas break. He had to stop this. It had to end.

            He rushed at Cooper, who saw it coming and swung a mighty right hook into Thomas’s jaw. Thomas hit the floor. Scorching streaks of white pain seared through his vision. He blinked and managed to stagger to his feet.

            “Try that again prodigy and you won’t be walking out of here,” Cooper hissed. The girl now looked at Thomas with an inquisitive look. She mouthed the words help. Cooper caught the exchange and slapped her hard across the cheek. She moaned as blood trickled from her lip. 

            Thomas seemed frozen, unable to move, his brain still trapped in a buzzing fog. He shook his head trying desperately to think clearly. He needed the hourglass. His hand fumbled inside his jacket pocket. Cooper slapped the girl again, this time laughing more loudly.

            Thomas pulled the artifact from his jacket as Cooper glanced over, his eyes widening as he realized what Thomas held. Thomas turned the hourglass over and the world flipped with it. The floor became the ceiling, and the ceiling became the floor. Thomas flipped it again and the world righted itself, only this time no one stood where they had been a mere second ago.

            Cooper was now once again crouched beside the staircase. Thomas, his head no longer throbbing, stood in the middle of the sitting room, as he had been just minutes ago. The hourglass worked exactly as he knew it would. Time had been turned back. Thomas checked the front door. Still locked. He only had a matter of seconds.

            He felt for the Roman coin inside his pocket. His fingers grasped the worn metal. There was a blur on the stairs as the girl rushed toward the door. Cooper jumped, his hands clawing desperately toward the girl’s white hair. A terrible snarl escaped his lips. Thomas rubbed the coin and held his breath.

The lock slid back just as the girl reached the doorstep. Without wasting another second, she ripped open the door and was lost into the night.