The Abyssal Box

By Gareth Lewis

An artifact is stolen, and seemingly destroyed. That shouldn’t be possible.
The taskforce hunt for the possibly destroyed artifact, and given the theft might have included inside help, they must also investigate the dangerous secret society with its fingers in everything.

In an increasingly compromised position, Cassie questions who she really is, and if she’s still serving the law as part of the taskforce.

With potential enemies all around, was the artifact that lets the user adopt the identity of others really destroyed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gareth Lewis
• Release date: Sep 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215129043

Gareth Lewis

Gareth Lewis has written a number of novels and shorter works in a few genres, including fantasy, science fiction, and thrillers. A programmer, he has a degree in computer studies, and lives in South Wales.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The uniformed cops on the front doors of the apartment building didn’t hide their boredom, offering only nods as Cassie and Peter flashed their IDs. It wasn’t as though they were guarding anything but the couple of patrol cars, the detective’s car, and the coroner’s wagon parked nearby.

Peter almost bounced ahead, pressing the button to call the elevator before she reached it. She walked on by, and took the stairs.

He followed her. ‘Really?’

‘You’re inappropriately energetic,’ she said, having little hope he’d wear off all his energy on the ascent. But even a bit would be nice.

Some of it seemed forced anyway, in the manic edge to his attitude. She could imagine why, and glanced at Jimmy’s ghost as it kept pace beside her.

Not a real ghost, any more than the version of Ortega that Peter saw was his ghost. But it was a useful shorthand for the things the Ghost Gun had left in their heads. Since the Euclideans hadn’t come up with a better name after centuries of studying it and the other artifacts, then she was stuck thinking of them as ghosts.

Peter was newer to it, and he also had to deal with being the Gun’s current wielder of choice. It required always being aware which gun you were using, since leaving the Ghost Gun behind when you went to work didn’t mean it’d stay there. It would suddenly appear about your person without you noticing, and required a constant alertness that could be tiring.

She sometimes caught him speaking to his ghost, which risked making them look insane. He wasn’t yet used to pretending to be on the phone when doing so, so looked like just another nutcase in the city.

It was her fault he had this curse. It might have been his choice, but only because she hadn’t explained the cost clearly enough. She should have shot Ortega when she’d had the chance.

No. It was done. There was no point wallowing in the past - which was easier said than done when the past walked beside you. Made it hard to move on.

Peter turned from the next flight up. ‘Come on,’ he said, trying to share his enthusiasm.

She refused to share, and wasn’t looking forward to what they’d find. He saw the possibility of a case. She saw the imminent interaction with the detectives assigned to the case. They’d be seen as interlopers. The taskforce’s mandate was so officially vague, and hardly publicised, that no one knew what they did. Intentionally so, but that didn’t help with on the ground interactions.

They reached the sixth floor. Peter might be slightly puffed, but there was no noticeable deterioration of his enthusiasm.

The cop on the door down the corridor marked their destination. He seemed as bored as those below had been, but paid more attention to their badges before nodding them in - recording their presence on his phone.

Obvious signs of forensics having been and gone meant they needn’t worry about messing up the crime scene, though the medical examiner only now loading up the body on a gurney meant it must have had a busy morning. Forensics might need to come again when they could schedule it. But they’d left no foot coverings, so there was little to do about it.

Cassie sighed on seeing the detective by the body.

‘A friend?’ asked Peter.

‘Simons,’ said Cassie. ‘Former partner, and all-around arsehole.’

Simons glanced their way, his expression hardening. His partner stood off by the window, texting.

Cassie and Peter entered the room, staying clear of where the medical examiner was at work, while giving the body a quick glance. The autopsy results would be more indicative than anything they could see.

‘Kinsala,’ said Simons. No hostility in his voice, but he sounded guarded. ‘This one of yours?’

‘Detective Simons,’ she said, keeping her own tone as indifferent. ‘This is Detective Murray.’

‘Hi,’ said Peter.

‘Possibly,’ said Cassie. ‘The victim has links of interest, so we’re checking to see if it’s related.’

‘I noticed he worked for your bosses,’ said Simons.

He was just goading her, and not with much hope of success. It still stung. ‘We have the same bosses.’

The victim, Kevin Connolly, worked for Euclidean, who were involved in the taskforce. Though she wasn’t sure how widely that knowledge had been spread. How much did Simons know? Only surface details, if that. Anything close to the truth he likely wouldn’t believe. Still, it was irritating, even if she had little interest in his opinion.

Simons didn’t push it, turning back to glance at the body. ‘You taking the case?’ He wouldn’t want to waste time here if it wouldn’t help his stats.

‘We don’t know yet,’ said Cassie. Admittedly, partly to irritate him, but also because it was true. A happy coincidence.

Connolly had been an administrative type at Euclidean, and not one with access to the interesting information. He was a member of the greater Euclidean organisation, so knew some stuff, but none of the classified details that would make this automatically their case.

‘Do keep us informed on it though.’ She just couldn’t help herself, and was rewarded by the tightening of Simons’ lips.

Technically, he was the senior detective, but the taskforce had priority in cases it decided were within its remit.

Simons glanced at her, coming close to a glare. He looked to Peter - who was examining the apartment while on the phone - then nodded Cassie off to the side for a private conversation.

While reluctant, she doubted she’d avoid whatever it was he had to say. If he was trying to be subtle, she should encourage such growth.

‘There’s lots of talk about your taskforce,’ he said. Inevitable, even if they’d prefer it were otherwise. They had been involved in some loud incidents, and no smart cop would want to be near those unless guaranteed a useful bust.

‘And what, you want in on it?’ she asked, unable to keep an edge from her tone. Because his voice had edged towards that irritatingly paternal tone.

‘It isn’t good talk. It looks a lot from the outside like they’re testing out corporate policing.’

What? That was ridiculous. Except that maybe it wasn’t, and she could see how it might look like that. Even though the truth was arguably worse. But it wasn’t unthinkable that someone involved was using the opportunity to test the waters of corporate policing. Had she focussed so much on the more esoteric elements that she’d missed more obvious moves? Truman could well be playing multiple angles.

‘Not denying it?’ asked Simons. Not in a gloating way. He looked worried.

‘Operational security,’ she said, frustrated. ‘Because there are certain facets we’re not allowed to share, I can’t explain the mandate to refute the claim.’

‘That’s not good.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’ she asked, trying not to glare. ‘I’m just following orders here.’ That sounded worse when said out loud.

‘You’re looking like a corporate stooge to the rest of the force.’

‘And what am I supposed to do?’ She lowered her voice, aware it was becoming heated. ‘Quit? I’m sure you’d love that.’

‘Hey, I’m just telling you what it looks like from the outside. The union tried looking into it, worried what it’d mean for the future. They got shot down on their polite requests, but they’re considering taking further action to learn what’s going on. You don’t want to get caught in the middle if this escalates.’

They glared at each other for a few moments, before Simons shook his head and started to turn away. ‘You want the paperwork on this case, we’ll be happy to hand it over. Let us know.’ Meaning he was unlikely to do much on the case until sure they wouldn’t take it off his hands.

She didn’t trust her mouth to respond, so kept it firmly sealed.

The feeling of being trapped returned. Jimmy’s ghost tied her to this world. Guilt over Peter now having the Gun, even if it’d been his choice, kept her doing this job. Working for the taskforce that might indeed be a first step towards policing no longer being about upholding the law, now she considered it. Or at least the next step, as she wasn’t so naïve as to consider it hadn’t been going that way for a while, possibly since it started.

Great. Another piece of guilt to wear her down. And no way out of this mess that she could see. Perhaps she should quit. Leave this mess for others to clean up, before she made it worse.

Peter looked across from the other side of the room, his expression more urgent, if still displaying too much enthusiasm. ‘We’ve got an emergency. Facility raided, multiple fatalities, and Yuen has a team in pursuit.’

Great.

They headed out, taking the elevator down. They needed to be on the scene before the team caught up to the criminals. While Yuen was competent, and reliable, her team were still private contractors. Cassie and Peter were the police presence required for the taskforce’s tactical support team to be allowed to operate on the streets.

Cassie tried not to think about how quickly they were responding to a crime against their corporate backers. But there’d been fatalities. Murders. That was a crime, no matter who it targeted, so this was their job. For now.

Chapter 2

Masks were a necessary skill to learn for the political arena, and politics a necessary skill in any walk of life. Amanda ensured her mask was calm yet obedient, and unruffled by any threats sent her way, no matter how masked they might be. She wouldn’t even deign to notice them. She was professional, yet subservient to the old white guys who ran the Euclidean council.

While they were willing to believe that, she should be fine. Unless she became expendable. Or caught them on a bad day. Ah, the joys of politics. They were often hard to distinguish from the dangers.

The five senior members of the council that ran Euclidean had held their positions for decades. Some still seemed to be living in those earlier decades, and often treated the four junior members of the council as servants. To be fair to them, they tended to treat pretty much everyone like that.

Of the nine of them sat around the council table, she was the only woman. And there was little variation in skin tone. It could feel slightly cliché.

Being treated as a servant, or generally ignored, may be preferable to her current status as target of several barely-veiled jibes. She ignored them, of course. There was little choice. No one had been happy with her deal with the government - though at least a few of them had seemed to see its necessity, and looked to the benefits it offered. Opportunists thrived in politics, after all.

But she’d ensured the corporation survived without having to suffer the investigation she’d seen coming their way, and the corporation’s survival and prosperity was her duty to the council. She’d done her job.

It was hardly her fault that these fossils still entertained the delusion that they could disappear in today’s world. They were too big to do so, and buying or threatening your way out of problems was not as suitable a strategy as it probably hadn’t been even in their days.

They generally seemed immune to subtlety.

And still expected her to deal with all their problems, even while they unsubtly hinted at her incompetence.

‘There’s increased chatter we can attribute to the factions,’ said Absalom. Was there, or was he simply trying to make himself seem useful?

The factions were a useful bogeyman where the council were concerned, a situation only exacerbated since a couple of them had recently staged operations against the corporation. Though since the last had also involved a spy within Absalom’s area of the FBI, he was hardly in a position to throw stones if he had any sense.

None of them knew how many factions had survived since the schism that’d forced them out of Euclidean, or how large they were now. Given how secret some had managed to remain, it was likely they lacked the manpower to draw attention. Amanda was sure they were less of a threat than many believed, but voicing that opinion held little upside. If she was right, they’d probably never be able to prove it. And having them believe the factions were a threat offered her options.

She gained a few sideways glances anyway. Of course she did. They’d try to blame the factions’ actions on her, even though the factions had been the cause of her having to make the deal in the first place. But by all means, they should continue to blame the woman.

‘There has been an upsurge in activity lately,’ said Markham, the head of the council. He was also Amanda’s mentor, and ostensible ally, though of course he’d distance himself if she was in danger of becoming expendable. Such things might be contagious. ‘Any spreading news of the Responders’ success may bolster all of them into action. It might draw them into the open.’

Was he supporting her? It was hard to tell. Intentionally vague, she was sure.

‘If the news has spread,’ said Amanda. Carefully, as she was only a junior councillor. But it felt necessary to head off their natural inclination to panic - in a respectful manner, of course. ‘There’s no intelligence to suggest collusion between factions. What intelligence we have suggests most are still at least rivals, and alliances are unlikely.’

‘This is true,’ said Absalom, reluctantly. She still had a hold over him, and he’d be anxious not to irritate her. Of course, he’d be even more inclined not to offend senior councillors, so had to tread carefully. That at least offered her some