Chapter 26: Glass

The plaza was buzzing with transmission vans and TV-reporters lining up at the edge of the gigantic crowd gathering to celebrate the opening of the high, dark glass-and-steel construction in the background. Spotlights moved over the façade like coloured globes rolling by, and above helicopters flew around recording the spectacular scenery. The building had been put to considerably many tests previous of the opening, security measures were high, and all thoughts about complaints from the neighbours and the doubts of the city council whether to allow the building to be erected at all, were washed away.

It was a media stunt, no doubt about that, but a good one, and the reputation was in need of improvement since the accident with the children in the forest.

Flashlights sparkled as the limousine drove up to the curb and Matthew stepped out accompanied by Isobel and Gabriel. They wore their finest attire, beaming and waving at the crowd. They had just gone through the last preparations in the limo before arriving, sharing a bottle of champagne, laughing and drinking.

But Matthew remained ever-calm as always. His eyes were hidden behind the shelter of the black, tinted sun glasses, his suit seemed even to fit more correctly today than any other day, although there was no difference, and the smile at the corner of his mouth revealed neither secrets nor truths. The shot of heroin in the bathroom before take-off from the mansion helped a great deal. He was on, and he was on entirely.

They walked through the crowd where, mostly, there were reporters, followers, admirers and what you could call some kind of fans. Gabriel had always wondered how on earth Matthew managed to keep the protesters at bay at these arrangements, but he had seen the ring of security guards around the plaza, a thick wall of the most heavy-built agents and even a few agent apprentices, still not thoroughly educated.

Now, as they reached the podium and ascended above the crowd, Gabriel saw the magnitude of the event. The plaza was big, almost twenty metres in diameter, and they were not even at the centre yet. They looked out from the podium. Behind them the tower rose like a black spear reaching to the sky like a giant fang tearing at the bottom of the thin, wispy clouds. The flashes from the cameras were even brighter up here than they had been down there, and Gabriel, who was actually accustomed to them, had to blink a few times to get used to the brightness. There must have been at least one thousand if not more people gathered. And furthest away he could see the security guards by the opposite site of the road, keeping the rest of the masses out with barricades and fences.

The flashing died out, the crowd drew closer and fell silent. Matthew removed his sun glasses. He scanned each and every one. His demanding presence even seemed to dampen the sounds of the night traffic, which had been diverted away from the plaza due to the opening ceremony. He held the words at bay as he looked over the crowd; a beam was placed irresistibly well on his face. He felt like thanking the academy and his family for winning the Oscar for best leading actor in "The World Manipulated Unrecognisably" for the thousandth year in a row.

"I hope you all can hear me," he said into the microphone and his voice rang out over the open space and echoed between the blocks not far away. Cheers. He nodded to himself. They could. "I'm pleased to see that so many of you have joined us tonight, to share this vision with me, this dream coming true. I cannot say for how long I've been dreaming, but I'm sure that without your help this would not have been possible."

Of course not; without you consuming my goods, I wouldn't have money to spend on these projects.

"I hope that this building, the Darklighter Tower, will remain an icon of how you achieve your goals, not by destroying but by building something together, and by sharing interests, and having faith in each other, that together, we can make a difference." Pause for applause. This award belongs to the producers and script-writers. "Together, we can make a brighter future in a world growing darker by the minute." Pause again but not for applause. The crowd was in fact listening. "Before I arrived tonight, I wondered what to say. What to tell you. I know that for many of you my project here will be a stepping-stone into a new life. Many of you have probably been annoyed more than happy about the construction of this tower; many of you might only know that this is a building for a firm and nothing else. You're wrong. This place will be the creative central of London with a library, hundreds of creative workshops for artists, designers and even room for educational purposes rented by the local schools and the university. You see... this is not just a statue with no value to you other than being there; this is actually a functional gateway to a future where dreams and reality can be combined into one. For those of you who chose to desert the project, I have no doubt that you wouldn't know what to do with it either if you had embraced it in the first place; for those of you who seek it out, curious and interested, I welcome you all with open arms. Friend and foe. Young and old. Good and bad. Dark and light. You're all welcome here, in this cathedral of creativity, in this temple of imagination; in this home of the future. Welcome."

I'd like to dedicate this award to my sons and daughters. I couldn't have done it without them. Darkness bless you.

Less than a millisecond followed his words before the crowd began to cheer loudly and the flashlights went haywire. Even out there, on the other side of the ring of security guards, the protesters were beginning to doubt why they actually did not like the concept of this building, and why they in fact held so much aversion for this man, who seemingly did everything he could for the citizens.

The mayor came up and shook hands with Matthew before they stepped down again and the barriers to the tower were removed. Access granted.

The reception was only for the finest of the town. Politicians, other celebrities and a few news reporters who had been permitted special access limited to the area around the front doors. In there, long tables were set with snacks, canapés and glasses of wine. The entrance area where they were gathered was a wide open space with specially designed fountains and the lights, well, floating globes of thin off-white, crème-coloured, amber yellow and soft pink seemed to go on their own trails in the air. Magic? No, not at all. They appeared quite logical, although the globes had no pre-loaded routes. And although the place was new and modern, it had an air of a gigantic elven palace, and it was unavoidable to hear all the remarks from the guests.

"It's really true. It's just like a dream," a woman who stood beside Isobel said, fascinated by the globes. "Are they on all the time?"

"No," Isobel answered smiling. "They have infra-red sensors detecting movements. They move about when there are people near them. And when there aren't, they lie on the ground. The wires are so thin because of the light carbon material they're made of, so you can barely see them even at close range."

"I must say, Mr. Darklighter, you've done an impressive job," the mayor acknowledged as he stood beside Matthew, who remained quite indifferent to the fact that the man barely knew where the limelight shone the brightest tonight. They stood by a series of white boards showing sketches and designs of the interior, an overview of the building, where the different areas for different artistic workshops and ateliers were. Matthew had just given a short introduction to the guests about the interior of the tower, the floors and their uses, before the reception had formally begun.

"I'm quite contended with the results myself, thank you," he said. A man approached him with a card in his hand.

"Mr. Darklighter, my name is Parpijetsky. I own a company by the name of A.P Hardwares," he introduced himself. Matthew took the card and glanced at it with a frown.

"Specialised in Nano-technology?" he asked.

"Indeed. The research in the business has just been granted public support by the government," Mr. Parpijetsky explained. "I'd very much appreciate it if you called me back on the other side of this grandiose reception. I'm sure, I have a bargain that you wouldn't possibly miss."

Matthew smiled and put the card into his pocket. "I sure do hope so, Mr. Parpijetsky. How kind of you to contact me. I'll surely remember."

The man left again and the mayor as well. Isobel came over and slipped her arm under his.

"Such pretentious little beasts," she said with a heavy sigh and looked lustrously at Matthew, who reciprocated her glance with a cold smile.

"Not in public, darling," he hushed her down. She suppressed a giggle.

"Sorry, champagne's never been easy on me," she apologized and he shook his head hopelessly.

"I can see where your sons get their habits from," he muttered. She held her head high and nodded reserved to a businessman and his wife as they passed them by to look at the boards with the sketches behind them.

"What are you talking about, Matthew?" she said with a light laughter but there was a hint of irony to her voice as well.

Gabriel had borrowed the keys to a staff staircase, or well, borrowed or borrowed, the guard had definitely gotten something good out of it, and Gabriel had the keys now, which was the base line for his actions. He, Rachel, Patrick, Eli and Jacques had stolen some bottles of wine from a stash under one of the tables and were off to a corridor. They went up as high as they could, with a good view of the entire scene down there. The lights were still on; somebody was throwing a concert - probably hired by Matthew - to promote the opening. The helicopters flew closer up here and he had such an urge to just throw himself out of the window, spread his wings and soar into the air. But being public meant no wings. A helicopter rounded the corner with a deafening noise, but ascended soon again. They opened the first bottle and passed it around with bored expressions.

"So, you guys think this place'll be what... whatever he said?" Marek asked.

"The home of the future?" Gabriel mused. "I don't know."

"I think it's bullshit," Rachel said and gulped down the wine. "Everyone knows that Matthew has a hard time right now. Celebrating the ceremony is so much unlike him when he should actually be cleaning up after the investigation about the two lost kids."

"Rach, you know what's happened to them, just shut it ok?" Patrick said.

"I just think it's unfair!" she said with a shrug.

"Nobody will ever find those kids, Rach, give it up and celebrate tonight. Uncle knows what he's doing," Eli said with her floating, absent voice.

"He always does, he's such a damned, sly snake!" Patrick said. Marek burst into convulsive laughter trying to keep the wine in his mouth.

"Wriggly-wriggly," he and Patrick imitated some strange dance-imitation of a snake before they rolled over, laughing out loud. The others looked inquiringly at them before shaking their heads and drinking some more.

"I think his speeches are good," Eli said with a nod.

"You can't really say anything else than that, you blind hen!" Gabriel laughed. Eli scowled in the direction from where his voice came.

"If you were blind, you'd appreciate a lot of things a lot more than you do right now," she mumbled sourly. "Just imagine what would happen if you couldn't see your father?" her voice dropped. Gabriel straightened up and looked firmly at Eli but Rachel put a hand to his wrist.

"Now, now, where did the good atmosphere go? Ey, any of you remember those songs we used to sing during First World War?" Patrick asked and pulled open another bottle, changing the subject completely like every Darklighter had to be able to do. They began humming, whistling and singing, and soon they were dancing in the deserted corridor too, bottles scattered everywhere on the floor.

Not far from the front doors, Nathaniel, Shade and Alexander stood. Their attentive eyes glided through the crowd as they scanned it for all the signs they had learned to observe in their education as agents. Alexander was still an apprentice, but he was one of the finest sharp-shooters the agency had ever seen, and tonight was his night. He was in charge of the security measures and so far he had heard nothing.

So far.

No more than half an hour into the reception a loud crash was heard. Shards of glass showered the plaza outside and people panicked. For a short moment things went chaotic. Shade, Nathaniel and Alexander checked with the other agents in the building and Marcus came in, saying that a group of black-clad people had wired themselves down from the roof and broken into one of the upper floors where the company had its archives. Alexander, Marcus and Thomas soared upwards through the staircase, meeting the young Darklighters on their way.

"What's happened? Did you see anything?" Alexander asked hastily.

"Five to ten persons, perhaps more. We left as quickly as we could. Wouldn't wanna draw attention," Gabriel answered.

"Were they armed?"

"It pretty damn much looked like it!"

They parted and the agents ascended the stairs until they reached the floor where the information they received told that the window façade had been breached. They kicked in the door and made it to see eight black-clad figures being lifted up and away from the open windows. The offices were in a jumble, papers and furniture flying all over. They fired shots at the intruders, but they replied with semi-automatics and they had to take cover. By the time they emerged again, the helicopter was carrying them far away.

"Who were they? Did anyone get a look at them?" Alexander asked, his hands shaking violently from the rush of adrenaline as well as the fact that he just blew his first greater task.

"S.M.E.," said Marcus as he searched a pile of papers and found a bag with the insignia on. They exchanged dark glances.

"Come on, let's get down and tell Lord Darklighter," Thomas said quietly. They ran down the stairs to the reception where people were being evacuated. Shade and Nathaniel hadn't left Matthew's side and they were the last to leave. Isobel and the younger Darklighters were already being escorted out.

They met Matthew at the front door. His face was calm, the light in his eyes clear, but his very aura exuded hate almost. His calmness was almost as frightening as if he had ripped out the heart of the nearest person and began teaching the crowd about the organ. He waited as the three agents approached.

"So, how many casualties?" he asked.

"We got one but he was wired so we don't have a body to identify," Marcus explained. Matthew's eyes moved to Thomas.

"Did they get anything?"

"Probably some of the papers in the archive, but nothing important. We have to make a report on what was in there and what's missing but there's no doubt it was S.M.E."

Matthew's gaze ended on Alexander, who held his breath, pale and stiff like a board. "You're coming with me," Matthew said and Alexander nodded without questions as they left in a hurry, avoiding the many flashing lights still remaining to document an event that had turned from brilliant to disastrous. The tumultuous scenes were being recorded, reporters asked questions and the police had already gathered. Matthew had to take time and stop before he left the building, addressing the crowd of reporters:

"This is an attack not only on my company, but the entire city. These terrorists will not go unavenged. We will find out who's behind this attack and get to the bottom of this case straight away."

"Mr. Darklighter! Do you think this has got anything to do with the views in public on the case about the missing Preston-children?"

"No comments."

Shade tried to shield off the reports from Matthew as they approached the car.

"What about all the previous accusations of child abuse? Could we be dealing with vigilantes?"

Matthew stopped and turned around sharply. He had detected the sound of the reporter coming from right behind him. A young woman, probably one of those ambitious little journalists recently graduated and ready to do anything for a promotion on a lousy channel, including going to the opening of the Darklighter tower and trying to interview Matthew James Darklighter himself.

"Darling, I'm not sure whom your sources might be, but these are not vigilantes, even vigilantes have some morals; these do not."

"Is that a yes or a no, Mr. Darklighter?" she asked firmly. Matthew had to smile; she was brave. Brave and foolish.

"A definite no, Miss. Now, I have no further comments. I'll be hosting a press conference as soon as I have all the reports I need. This is an attack on the liberty and simple rights of the people living in London. Excuse me."

Loads and loads of more questions showered him as well as the flashing of the cameras, but Shade and Nathaniel lead him steadily to the car and they drove away. Silly, silly humans.

Gabriel put a hand to his father's when he entered the compartment of the limousine. Isobel had already taken off but Gabriel had insisted on waiting.

"What happened? Did you meet Alexander and the others?" he asked quietly as they left the noise of the crowd outside. Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"Are you stupid, boy? Of course I did. S.M.E. broke into the building at the night of the triumph. Insolent, stuck-up mortals!" his voice came through clenched teeth and he looked away out of the window. Gabriel shuddered. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to have left while he could.

"But... S.M.E. don't attack, do they? They keep to themselves and their labs and stick to infiltrating other people to get what they want, not attacking them. Like Mr. Carlstein. He tried to get to us through Lynne, I mean," Gabriel suggested quietly. Matthew frowned and glanced at him without answering.

"We'll see," he said after some time in silence and looked back. Outside they were already speeding out of the city. He gestured for Gabriel to sit beside him, and they moved closer together.

"Don't be angry, father," Gabriel said and slipped his fingers through his. "They're working as well as they can." They heard the motorcycles of the escorting agents around them, and further behind them came the other cars. Three in all. Isobel was probably already home.

"Alexander failed me," he said.

"He didn't know," Gabriel tried to calm Matthew down, but his father was unable to receive his assuring words.

"He should have. Why was there nobody on the roof? Why was there nobody checking that no one could get down from there?"

"The broadcasting helicopters had permission to land up there if they needed to," Gabriel began but Matthew cut him off.

"That's still not good enough. He has to pay."

Gabriel bowed his head. He knew what "pay" meant, and he could not argue against it. It was the way that his father kept his agents' loyalty and trust at bay. With fear of his power, fear of what would happen if they failed him. It did not mean death, though, no, it meant something much worse.