Ash

  ‘Dear God!’ Ash cried as he stumbled backwards again, barely managing to keep his feet. There seemed to be thousands of them, fat-bodied and with thick, hairy legs. The shiver that ran up Ash’s spine reached his shoulders and made them shudder involuntarily.

  How far down the passage in the rock did this abominable blockage run? He desperately needed to get directly beneath the castle itself, for that was where he was sure the psychic phenomena originated, but there was no way he was going to try and push himself through that lot without a tough biohazard suit. Maybe if he had a flame-thrower . . . He doubted Comraich would keep such weaponry among its armaments. He thought of soaking the massive web in petrol and setting fire to it, waiting while it burned to nothing before proceeding in stages. That might work. But Haelstrom would never allow that.

  ‘Mr Ash!’

  The hollow sound that echoed off the walls of the long tunnel made him start and spin round.

  It came again: ‘Ashashashas . . .’

  Of course. He’d been gone some time and the ranger was becoming anxious.

  Ash called back, sure that the sound of his voice would easily travel through the twists and turns of the original smugglers’ harsh route to riches.

  ‘Can you hear me, Mr Ash?’ the ranger’s echoing voice demanded, now with less urgency.

  ‘Yeah, I can hear you!’ Ash yelled back.

  ‘I was worried about you.’

  ‘No need. I’m on my way down right now.’

  The investigator picked up his shoulder bag and looped it across his chest. With one last look back at the hideously thick, gargantuan barricade of webs draped with dirt and dust, Ash widened the beam of his Maglite and started making his way back to McKewin. He had to crawl through the shallower parts of the tunnel, where the rock looked to Ash as if it were burdened by its own weight. It surely couldn’t have been like this at the time of the ‘Running Trade’, for it would have made movement of goods nigh-on impossible. As he squirmed through the claustrophobic section that led back to the main cave, the smell didn’t seem as bad as before and he realized he’d become acclimatized to it.

  At last, and with relief, he could see daylight up ahead. One last bit on hands and knees and then he was back at the cave’s entrance. The park ranger ambled up to him, his own torch aimed at the ground to watch his footing.

  ‘Glad you’re back, Mr Ash,’ he said amiably. ‘Thought for a moment I’d have to come and find you.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ Ash responded, somewhat breathlessly. It was good to get sharp sea air into his lungs once more, even if the chill had a bite to it and was slightly tainted by the dank atmosphere of the cave.

  ‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ McKewin asked.

  ‘Not really. I could only get so far.’

  ‘Aye, well, the tunnel’s been there an awful long time. I take it you won’t be going there again.’

  ‘Guess not,’ he said.

  ‘Well, nothing wasted. At least you had a chance to see what nobody else has for a hundred years.’

  Ash started to walk on, to get out in the fresher and more invigorating sea air, cold though it might be, but the ranger didn’t move.

  ‘I see you brought a little friend back with you,’ he said wryly.

  ‘Sorry?’

  McKewin pointed to the investigator’s right shoulder with his torch.

  Ash turned his head to look, and almost yelped when he saw the huge, hairy spider with its eight furry legs.

  With a snappy flick of his gloved hand, McKewin swiped the spider off Ash’s suddenly rigid body. The ranger smiled benignly as together they watched the furred, brittle creature scuttle away and lose itself in the rock-strewn floor. Ash wished he’d had the chance to crush the life from it with his heavy-duty boot.

  The hike back up the rickety wooden stairway was arduous, but far easier than ascending the tunnel had been. When they reached the top, Ash leaned both hands on bent knees and tried to catch his breath. Annoyingly, Jonas McKewin still looked fresh, ready for more.

  ‘You okay, Mr Ash?’ the ranger enquired solicitously. Ash looked up at him suspiciously, but there was no hint of mockery in his tone. The park ranger was aware of how tough the climb could be on anybody not used to such exertions, and the investigator had managed two ascents that morning, the first tougher than this last one. Ash straightened and drew in a long, beautifully sweet breath of fresh sea air before giving an answer.

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ he replied. ‘I’m fine now.’

  ‘Was it any help to you, the cave?’ McKewin looked genuinely interested.

  ‘Not really,’ Ash replied. ‘I was hoping for more . . . in fact, I could feel there was more inside the tunnel the higher I went, so it was a shame the way was blocked. I’d have liked to have climbed a bit higher.’

  Ash handed back the yellow hard hat, which he’d taken off with relief as soon as they were outside the cavern.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry about that,’ said McKewin as he took the headgear from him.

  ‘Not your fault,’ Ash was saying needlessly. ‘It was just an idea I had. It probably would have led to nothing.’ Except a giant dirt-draped tangle of spiders’ webs, he thought to himself.

  The ranger tucked Ash’s hard hat under his arm.

  ‘Thanks for your patience,’ Ash commented.

  ‘That’s okay, Mr Ash. It was only when you’d disappeared so long in there I got a mite worried.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sorry, I—’

  ‘Mr McKewin!’

  They both turned to see another ranger approaching them, a man older than McKewin, red-faced and rather portly.

  ‘Marty . . . ?’ McKewin wore a puzzled frown as the khaki-clad figure reached them, somewhat winded.

  ‘Y’re to come right away, Mr McKewin!’ he urged in a broad Scots accent. Marty took in Ash, the ‘ghost-buster’ with a curious frown, then turned back to McKewin.

  ‘There’s trouble in the woods.’ He looked again at the investigator, as if he might in some way be responsible. ‘It’s a slaughter, man, a bloodbath. I’ve ne’er seen anything like it. I was on m’usual mornin’ rounds checkin’ the boundary fence an’ such, when I came upon it. It was sheer bliddy butchery. The deer . . . och, those poor bliddy deer. Some had tried to get through the fence and were fried for their trouble. They must’ve went at it again an’ again, hurtin’ ’emselves more an’ more till it or the cats killed ’em. Others were just mauled to pieces. Squirrels, foxes, all kinds of smaller animals torn apart, their bellies open an’ still steaming with heat. I ran – I didn’t waste any time lookin’ for details – I just bliddy ran. When I couldnae find you in the office, I went straight to the castle. Sir Victor’s organizing a task force to go in, an’ y’re needed promptly.’

  ‘So that was the cause of the ruckus last night,’ Ash put in.

  ‘Y’heard it goin’ on?’ said Marty incredulously.

  ‘I heard something, but it was very late.’

  ‘Aye, and we’re early-to-bed, early-to-rise folk, so we couldn’t have known.’

  ‘Then you missed quite a lot that was going on in Comraich last night,’ Ash told him.

  ‘No one alerted us,’ Marty said quickly, as if to absolve the rangers of any blame.

  ‘The important thing now,’ McKewin said gravely, ‘is to sort things out quickly and quietly.’

  ‘I’m nae sure aboot quietly,’ said Marty, chastened by his chief’s tone. ‘Sir Victor’s even organizing the guards now as well as the rangers. They’re armed, but waiting for you tae guide them.’

  ‘Right, let’s be off.’

  With a brief nod towards Ash, he took off quickly towards Comraich, Marty struggling to keep up with him.

  Ash waited for a moment or two, getting the last of his breath back, looking out to sea as he did so. Dark clouds were gathering ominously over the horizon.

  54

  As he crossed the wide concourse outside Comraich Castle, Ash could see no activity
. He had a mind to chase after Jonas McKewin, but realized he’d probably only get in the way.

  The air was dry so far, but if that sky-filling dark mass of clouds gathering over the horizon was headed this way, a storm would be arriving before long. He passed the steps that led up to the castle’s entrance, intending to inspect the estate’s formal gardens. Delphine had told him that guests would be confined to their rooms until the chaos of the previous evening has been thoroughly investigated. Obviously, Haelstrom hadn’t wished to endanger his high-paying residents unnecessarily.

  Just beyond the steps to the entrance he came upon two parked cars: the sleek, black Mercedes-Benz that had brought him to Comraich and an equally sleek black Jaguar saloon. Gordon Dalzell was busy wiping down the Merc with a chamois leather while another, taller man with receding black hair was hosing down the Jaguar. Both men were wearing identical overalls, and both looked up from their activity as Ash approached.

  ‘Dè an doigh, Mr Ash?’ Dalzell called out cheerfully, his grin revealing a fine display of white teeth. ‘Are y’settling in okay?’

  Ash approached. ‘You expecting more pick-ups today, Gordon?’

  ‘Oh, aye. Busy day today. S’why the cars have to look spotless for our VIP visitors. I heard there’s been a spot of bother, even more so than before?’

  ‘You were here?’

  ‘Ach, we helped clean up the mess those weird flies made last night. The strange thing is, there were no signs of them this morning. I mean, the cleaners do a pretty damn good job, but y’ken, there were bound to be one or two the cleaners missed, but they couldnae find one today, not even in the vacuum machines themselves.’

  He lowered his voice when Ash came even closer. ‘This is rumour, mind, but I was told that when quick autopsies were carried out on those people who’d died from the attack, not one fly or maggot was found inside ’em. Y’know, some guests were supposed to have choked on ’em when the flies blocked their windpipes and even got into their lungs. But nae, all corpses were empty of the bliddy things. Now what d’you make of that?’ Dalzell’s words were louder with the question.

  Ash shook his head non-committally. He noticed the chauffeur’s companion had turned off the nozzle of the hosepipe which trailed around the side of the ancient building and was moving closer to the conversation. The man, was medium-tall with sad hazel eyes set in a comfortable, lived-in face with a ready smile. His dark hair was thinning. He looked interesting, as if he had a lot of stories to tell, and the investigator gave him a brief nod hello.

  ‘Y’havenae met my other half yet,’ said Dalzell, his cheerful grin lighting up his shrewd blue-grey eyes. ‘Graham Hamilton – he used t’race cars, y’ken?’

  ‘Oh, I see . . .’ Ash had been taken by surprise.

  Dalzell laughed at the investigator’s baffled expression. ‘We’re not all Screaming Marys, y’ken. We don’t even call it a marriage: it’s a civil partnership, and that’s how we care to think about it.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’ Ash struggled to speak through his embarrassment, ashamed at his naivety.

  Hamilton spoke up and he was smiling too. ‘We heard you had problems yesterday evening.’ His accent was faint, a slight lilt, almost like McKewin’s.

  ‘If you mean an unscheduled journey in a lift shaft with a very abrupt end, then yes. Could’ve been worse, though.’

  ‘Gordon told me you were a nice fellow. I’m glad you’re all right.’

  Dalzell was wringing out his chamois leather into a plastic bucket at his feet. ‘Y’need to watch yourself in this place, Mr Ash.’

  The investigator wasn’t sure whether to take that as a threat or a warning. Dalzell was difficult to read.

  ‘David!’

  All three men turned to look back at the castle steps down which Delphine Wyatt was running. ‘You have to help me, David,’ she said in a rush as she reached Ash.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Petra and Peter. They’ve gone missing.’

  ‘I thought everyone was confined to their rooms till the fuss was over,’ said Hamilton, giving her a concerned look.

  ‘Yes, that was the idea,’ Delphine replied. ‘But you don’t know Petra. She’s a force of her own.’

  ‘Wait a bit,’ Dalzell jumped in, anxiety also in his tone. ‘I saw a young couple headed into the woods earlier. I caught sight of the girl – pretty thing, if she knew how to dress properly. She was with that young guy. Looked alike, the pair of ’em.’

  Hamilton cut in then. ‘Aren’t the woods supposed to be out of bounds for the moment?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Delphine, ‘until some kind of task force – wardens and guards – has been sent in.’

  ‘Ach, I heard a whole bloody army’s going in,’ said Dalzell. ‘I heard there was some kind of massacre of the park animals. I don’t know—’

  ‘Wildcats.’

  They all turned Ash’s way.

  ‘The wildcats you mentioned yesterday,’ said Ash, looking directly at Dalzell. ‘They’ve obviously gone blood mad.’

  ‘Aye, it’s in their genes all reet. Should’ve all been exterminated long ago. Nasty predators, they are.’

  Delphine looked up imploringly at Ash. ‘David, I’ve got to go and find the twins. If they get lost in there then God knows what will happen to them.’

  ‘Right,’ said Ash, ‘what are we waiting for?’

  Delphine gave him a wan smile.

  ‘I think you should stay here and let the wardens and guards take care of things, Dr Wyatt,’ said Hamilton doubtfully.

  ‘You know I won’t do that,’ the psychologist told him firmly.

  He shrugged and held up his hands as if in surrender.

  Dalzell dropped his leather into the bucket. ‘I’ll go and see what’s going on. They should soon be ready to send in a proper force t’deal with those monster cats.’

  ‘I think it’s already on its way,’ said Ash. ‘Jonas McKewin has just been summoned to lead it.’

  ‘How long since you saw the twins, Gordon?’ Delphine asked urgently.

  ‘ ’Bout ten, twenty minutes,’ Dalzell replied, screwing up his face as if it would help him remember.’

  ‘Twenty minutes? Anything might have happened in that time. Oh God!’

  Ash grabbed her arm before she could rush off. ‘No need to panic, Delphine. The cats aren’t going to attack again so soon after last night’s carnage.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure,’ warned Hamilton. ‘There’s something mad about the wildcat as a species. They’re like foxes – never satisfied until they’ve killed all the chickens in the coop.’

  While Dalzell went scooting up the steps and into the castle, Ash and Delphine hurriedly crossed the gardens to the edge of the forest, where they paused for a few moments, both of them hesitant in front of the shady trees.

  Delphine cupped her hands to her mouth. ‘Petra! Peter! Can you hear me?’

  They listened, and for the first time that morning, Ash became aware that the woods were entirely silent, as if all the birds and animals within were either hiding or had deserted the woods for their own safety. The stillness was eerie.

  Delphine turned to him again, her anxious face looking up at him for reassurance, but Ash could offer no such comfort.

  The investigator raised his own hands to his face and called more loudly, ‘Petra! Peter! Come out now! This is no game!’

  They waited in silence but heard no sound, human or otherwise, in response.

  ‘Delphine,’ he said quietly but firmly, ‘I want you to go back to the castle. There’s no point in both of us searching for them. I’ll bring them to you as soon as I find them.’

  ‘No,’ Delphine replied, equally firmly. ‘We go in together or I go in alone. That’s the end of it.’

  ‘Okay, then,’ Ash reluctantly conceded. ‘But promise me you won’t go dashing off into the trees. Stick to the path and walk slowly. Listen out for any noise, anything at all; it might just lead us to them.’

  He
r smile was still wan, but he could see she was grateful for his clear thinking, as well as his company. Together, they walked down the wide path into the woods, both looking around warily. The deeper they went, the deeper the shadows created by the forest canopy became. They froze each time they heard a rustling sound, and moved on only when they were sure it was just the stiff breeze coming off the sea causing the leaves and undergrowth to rustle.

  Further on, they paused to listen again. The trees around them were closer together now, and the path had dwindled to a narrow track. Ash had no idea how far they had come, but he sensed that they were now too far in for anyone back at the castle to hear them. The trees, missing much of their summer foliage, suddenly seemed sinister, their thick branches twisted and gnarled, thinner branches like crooked fingers beckoning them on.

  ‘Should we call again, David?’ Delphine was clinging to his arm, undeniably afraid.

  He stole a moment to kiss her cheek and she huddled even closer to him.

  ‘I’m worried we’ll attract some unwelcome attention, but I suppose there’s little choice.’ He kept his voice low. ‘Let’s shout one more time, but both of us together. If there’s no answer, we’ll have to try a different area.’

  Together, they shouted the twins’ names as loudly as they could, keeping it up for over a minute, listening intently when they were done.

  After waiting in silence for another minute, they glanced at each other and Ash gave a small nod of his head. Their next shouts were loud enough to wake the dead, though Ash fought to keep such notions at bay.

  ‘Petra! Peter! Petra! Peter!’

  Loudly though they’d shouted, the silence was louder still.

  ‘Sh-should we split up? We’d cover much more ground.’

  Ash looked down at the frightened psychologist. ‘Are you kidding?’ He smiled at her. ‘D’you really imagine I’d leave you all alone in this place?’

  Delphine tried to hide the relief in her voice. ‘I just thought maybe—’

  ‘Don’t even think about it. We’re sticking together. Haven’t you seen those low-grade horror movies? You know what happens to people who search alone: one gets a meat cleaver through the skull, then the other finds his or her head spinning round in the washing machine.’