Darker

  He nodded.

  The men inched their way forwards. They’re professionals, all right, thought Richard; they’re moving like they’re out for a stroll in the park.

  He lifted his head just above the window frame to see how close the men at the far side of the car were.

  Damn’ close.

  He could even see they wore headsets with microphones so they could whisper instructions to each other by radio.

  As he watched, one of the men paused and lifted his hand to the mike fixed to the headphones: obviously relaying instructions.

  In the next second Richard knew only too well what those instructions were.

  A clattering of sharp cracks came from all directions. Bullets whined around them, slamming into the car, shaking pieces of safety glass down on to them.

  Richard put his arm round Rosemary and pulled her more tightly into the corner where the car door hinged to the body of the car.

  More gunfire. Christ … he even saw the bullets glow red hot against the darkening sky as they whipped by.

  In a tiny voice Rosemary repeated over and over: ‘Jesus, get us out of this … get us out of this …’

  Chapter 84

  Amy Says …

  ‘What’s wrong, Amy?’

  Mitch crouched beside her. She still knelt on the armchair. It was nearly dark now and she was only illuminated by the lights shining through the windows of the house.

  ‘Amy, what’s the matter?’ he repeated. Her face had become serious; her eyes glistened but for some reason she could not take her eyes from her knees.

  ‘Puppy’s frightened?’ she said, troubled.

  ‘The puppy?’ Mitch frowned. ‘What puppy?’

  ‘Puppy on my knee. He’s frightened by all that noise.’

  Mitch could hear the gunshots echoing down the hillside. My God, he thought, lightly rubbing the walkie-talkie against his chin, if this little girl only knew. That was the sound of her daddy dying.

  Instead, he forced a smile and started to talk about the imaginary puppy she pretended she could see on her knee.

  ‘He’s frightened,’ she insisted, ‘I can feel him shivering. Mitch, tell them to stop making the noise.’

  He was going to say, Don’t worry, Amy, it’s only fireworks.

  But even as he opened his mouth to say the words a sudden weight pressed hard against his chest; he could hardly breathe; a throbbing ache ran up through his neck into his head.

  Don’t worry, Amy, it’s only fireworks.

  The words wouldn’t reach his lips. The pain in his chest became a spike, driving through his ribs. His eyes watered.

  ‘Mitch Winter … this is Mitch Winter. You are to cease firing immediately. I repeat. Cease firing immediately.’

  Heart lurching, he looked at the radio in his hand as if it had sprouted rose blossoms.

  Hell’s bells, what am I saying? he thought, bewildered.

  A voice crackled over the speaker. It sounded puzzled. ‘Confirm order, please.’

  He intended to say: Ignore last order. Finish the job.

  Instead, to his astonishment, he found himself saying, ‘Order confirmed. Do not, I repeat, do not fire another shot. Now, confirm the order!’

  ‘Order confirmed, sir. What action should we take now?’

  Mitch licked his dry lips. His heart thudded. Dizzy, his mind spun in a way he’d never experienced before.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ Amy asked, smiling back down at her knees again.

  He was going to say, No one important. Instead: ‘The men who were making the noise.’

  ‘Naughty men. They were frightening the puppy.’

  He looked down at her bare knees. It seemed absurd but he knew he would have to ask the question. ‘Those men who were making the noise. What shall I tell them to do now?’

  She looked up, annoyed. ‘Puppy’s still shivering. Tell them to go home.’

  Mitch spoke into the radio. ‘You must … must do as I say.’

  ‘Fire away, sir.’

  ‘You must go home.’

  ‘Home?’ The voice sounded even more puzzled.

  ‘Home. Yes. Go home.’

  On the hillside, Richard waited for the first bullets to shred his stomach and chest. He and Rosemary curled in a ball together, sheltering from the glass spraying from the car.

  Then … it stopped.

  It came as suddenly as that.

  One second bullets screamed around their heads, then there were no more bullets.

  The echoes of gunshots crackled into the distance.

  And then there was only silence.

  This is it, he thought. They’re going to rush us.

  But no one came.

  Cautiously, he looked over the bullet-chewed door.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Rosemary whispered.

  ‘I think you should take a look at this.’

  Richard saw the men were slowly backing away from the car. Some shook their heads as if they’d heard something they didn’t believe. Then, one by one, they began running back to the house.

  ‘Why are they leaving?’

  Richard shook his head. ‘I just don’t know. They could have killed us easily.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s because the Beast has arrived. Look. Down there, by the lakeside.’

  Even though it was nearly dark he could see the crushed remains of a building by the lake and a snapped tree. No doubt about it. It had been here. He wiped his mouth. Or, worse, maybe it was still here.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s time we called on Michael.’

  Chapter 85

  Puppy

  Christine rolled over on the bed. Even though unconscious, a sense of dread rolled through her. She moaned and tried to sit up. Her body felt it had turned to concrete. Why couldn’t she wake up?

  She forced her eyes open. A bare room. Windows without curtains. It began to turn around her.

  Was she drunk?

  No, she remembered …

  Amy.

  Something about Amy …

  But where was Amy?

  Again dread pealed through her like the clanging of a huge and terrible bell.

  Dread and danger. She sensed it hovering nearby. She had to find Amy.

  Arms and legs like foam rubber, she struggled to rise from the bed.

  Mitch had been running across the dark lawns for ten minutes now. He carried Amy piggyback style on his back. All the time she giggled and told him to follow the puppy. She’d shout instructions to it:

  ‘Puppy sit. Puppy jump. Puppy run up the steps. Puppy run down the steps.’

  He choked the air into his lungs; his chest felt as if a great weight crushed it.

  ‘Run faster, Mitch, run faster.’ It was agony but he had to obey.

  He ran through the blocks of light thrown on the grass from the windows of the house. Sometimes he thought he could even see Amy’s imaginary puppy. A dark bundle of shadows that moved fast across the grass, somehow always avoiding the light from the windows.

  At first he tried to frame the words to ask Amy to let him rest. But something had taken over. He only knew he had to keep running, with Amy riding on his back. Maybe for ever.

  His lungs crackled.

  ‘Puppy jump over the flowers.’ The giggling sounded manic now.

  At last he heard Michael’s voice. ‘Amy, come back up to the terrace, sweetheart.’

  ‘Mitch up the steps.’

  Still carrying her on his back he lumbered up the stone steps to the terrace. Sweat poured down his face.

  ‘Mitch is looking a bit tired, Amy. Can he go inside for a sit down?’

  ‘OK.’ She bounced back into the armchair. ‘Puppy! Puppy! Come on. Knees … on my knees. That’s a good boy.’

  Suddenly the control was over. Mitch turned his back on Amy and he walked back into the house.

  He was scared.

  No, he wasn’t.

  He was terrified.

  ‘What do you think to your new puppy?
’ Michael asked. ‘Do you like him?’

  ‘I love him,’ she said firmly. ‘He’s beautiful … aren’t you beautiful, aren’t you beautiful?’ she sang.

  Michael watched, smiling. It had worked. Now he stood shoulder to shoulder with the emperors of ancient times. Not just the Byzantine Emperors. They hadn’t the guts to seize control of the Beast and take it anywhere in the world. No, he ranked alongside Alexander the Great. Conqueror of the world.

  He smiled. ‘Thirsty, honey?’

  Amy nodded.

  ‘Come on, let’s have a walk to the kitchen and get you a nice cold drink.’

  ‘Can I bring the puppy?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You take him everywhere now. In fact, don’t let him out of your sight.’

  ‘Can he sleep on my bed?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I can’t wait for Mum and Dad and Mark to see him.’

  Michael led Amy by the hand through the french windows, through the dining room and into a hallway that was big enough to comfortably park a truck inside. A wide flight of stairs guarded by a stone balustrade swept up to the next landing; the stone balustrade continued running the full width of it in a grand classical style. At the end of the hallway, where a doorway led into the kitchen, was a high-backed wing chair.

  ‘Oh, look,’ Amy sang. ‘Mitch is asleep in the chair.’ She put her fingers to her lips and shushed, then tiptoed through into the kitchen.

  Michael noticed Mitch’s eyes. Half-open, they stared at the floor without seeing. One hand rested on his chest; the fingers were turning blue.

  ‘Poor Mitch,’ he said softly. ‘All you ever wanted from life was to retire to an island.’

  But even now, Michael mused, smiling, poor Mitch was sailing out to some dark island, across a very much darker sea.

  Christine had covered half the distance between the bed and the door. The walls were distorted. Dizziness came in great sluggish waves. One second she’d be on her hands and knees. The next she’d open her eyes to find herself face down on the carpet.

  Danger and dread.

  The words pealed through her head.

  Danger and dread …

  She knew she must reach Amy. Something terrible was going to happen. And time was running out.

  Mitch Winter’s men found Michael in the kitchen.

  Both he and Amy were drinking milk; there was a saucer of milk on the floor.

  They didn’t beat about the bush.

  ‘What happened to Mitch?’ asked one, the shotgun raised diagonally across his chest.

  Michael smiled at Amy. ‘He’s gone to sleep.’

  ‘He’s fucking dead and you fucking know it.’

  ‘Watch your language. The little girl’s not deaf, you know.’

  ‘Fucking shut it.’

  The man aimed the shotgun at Michael’s chest.

  ‘He’s scaring the puppy, isn’t he, Amy?’

  She nodded, her eyes round with fear.

  Michael smiled. ‘Silly, noisy men, aren’t they?’ He glanced round, counting them. Twelve. All the surviving members of security were here. For what good they were.

  ‘Amy, let’s play a game.’

  She looked at the armed men, unsure what do.

  ‘Don’t worry. Those are nice men, really. They’ll join in.’

  They looked at one another, obviously wondering what Michael intended.

  ‘Amy, turn and look at the men. Now, Amy … repeat after me: Amy says put down your guns.’

  They lifted their guns. Michael heard the bolt of a sub-machine-gun being pulled back.

  Amy sounded frightened. ‘Amy says … Amy says put down your guns.’

  The guns rattled to the floor. Michael felt a solid burst of satisfaction as the men’s eyes widened, their faces flushed red. And he saw fear in those widening eyes.

  ‘Repeat after me, Amy. Amy says put your hands on your heads.’

  Amy giggled, enjoying herself. ‘Amy says put your hands on your heads!’

  The sound of palms slapping against scalps filled the kitchen as the men obeyed. Eyes wide now; Adam’s apples jerking in their throats.

  ‘Now.’ Michael grinned. ‘Amy, I’ll whisper in your ear what to say next.’

  The men didn’t move their hands from their heads, or move an inch – only their eyes flashed alarm.

  Michael whispered into Amy’s ear.

  She giggled. Then she took a deep breath and said in a voice that was loud and clear:

  ‘Amy says … go hang yourselves!’

  Chapter 86

  Strange Fruit

  Ten minutes later, Richard entered Darlington Hall by the main entrance. Rosemary followed, moving silently, expecting any moment to meet the gunmen.

  Although lights shone from the upper part of the house, those in the lower part of the house were unlit, leaving the entrance hall a gloomy shadow pool.

  Richard glanced back at Rosemary. She was a silhouette now apart from her eyes that gleamed white out of the near-darkness.

  They moved deeper into the house. Above, a crystal chandelier twinkled faintly in the little light that did filter through the tall windows.

  Every so often, Richard would pause, listening. But no sound came from the house. Perhaps it had been abandoned. The way the gunmen had run suggested that they’d been warned the police were on their way.

  With luck the gunmen might have run for it.

  Or perhaps they might be waiting beyond the next door.

  They were.

  On her hands and knees Christine reached the bedroom door. She pulled herself into a sitting position. Her head swung loosely forward, smacking into the door frame.

  She felt nothing.

  The drug numbed her from head to toe.

  She tried to call Joey’s name but only a dry whisper left her lips.

  Dread. Danger.

  The words still rang inside her head, driving her to turn the door handle. Amy needed her. She knew it.

  Slowly, she dragged herself into the corridor.

  Christ!

  The men filled the hallway. Richard clenched his fists, ready to aim a punch at the man nearest to him.

  The man turned to look at him.

  No, not look at him. He kept turning. In a weirdly smooth way that suggested he was rotating on a turntable.

  He felt Rosemary grab his arm. She, too, had seen the dozen or so men standing there in the gloom. But some were impossibly tall, their heads reaching half-way to the ceiling.

  Silence. Absolute silence.

  Richard shivered. Why didn’t they react; why this strange turning round on the spot like some weird waltz?

  Rosemary’s voice was a whisper. ‘Look at them … look at what they’ve done.’

  His eyes adjusted at last to the heavy gloom. The men hung by ropes from a series of small stone pillars that formed a safety balustrade that ran up the stairs then across the upper landing.

  For some reason all these men had tied ropes around the stone pillars, then slipped a noose over their heads and jumped.

  Most had dislocated the spinal vertebrae, their necks obscenely stretched. Blood trickled from nostrils.

  The ropes were so long that many of the men’s feet almost, but not quite, touched the floor.

  And there they turned silently on their ropes. Hanging like man-shaped fruit from a tree.

  Rosemary touched his elbow. ‘Look.’ She nodded back towards a high-backed armchair. Richard recoiled, thinking that a man sat staring at them.

  That man didn’t move either.

  ‘I think he’s dead,’ she whispered. ‘Look at the eyes.’

  Ice-cold shivers tremored through his body. ‘Christ, what happened here?’

  ‘Mass suicide?’

  His mouth dried. ‘Come on, I want to see if Amy and Christine are still here.’

  On the floor lay a revolver. Richard picked it up. Then he pushed open the door beside the seated corpse.

  The sudden brilliance of the kitchen l
ights dazzled him.

  The first thing that happened was that something hit him hard across the forearm; the pain shot like a bullet up his elbow and into his neck. The gun, knocked from his hand, rattled on to the tiled floor.

  He was aware of two men at his side, but it was the man standing in front of him that caught his attention.

  Rosemary gasped.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Michael smiled, down turned eyes gentle as ever. ‘Devil nicked your tongues?’

  Chapter 87

  Showdown

  ‘Don’t worry, Richard,’ Michael said, sitting on the kitchen table, legs casually swinging. ‘Christine and Amy are safe.’

  ‘Joey?’

  Michael shook his head. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You didn’t have to hurt him, you sick little bastard.’

  ‘I don’t hurt people for the fun of it, Richard. And I don’t do anything without a good reason.’

  ‘So, there was a reason for leaving Isaac and me up at the barn when you knew all along that thing was coming?’

  ‘I still can’t believe you got away from the Beast, Richard.’

  ‘Well, it helps you move quickly when you know some poor guy has just been mashed flat and you’re next. You deserve to be —’

  ‘I deserve what? The same?’

  Michael’s eyes twinkled. Why, the bastard’s actually happy, Richard thought, a bitter taste flooding his mouth.

  ‘My, my, Richard. I didn’t think you were so naive. A general doesn’t go into battle believing he won’t lose at least a few of his men.’

  ‘You’re a mean bastard.’

  ‘And what do you think, oh-so-sweet Rosemary Snow? Not saying anything? My, the Devil has nicked your tongue, hasn’t he?’

  Richard stood there, hardly believing what he heard as Michael began to lecture them on how the world would be a better place now.

  Out of the corner of his eye he now saw three men. One, wearing a white doctor’s coat, carried a pistol. One carried a shotgun; the other a sub-machine-gun. If anything, these seemed more dangerous than the professional gunmen. They sweated nervously. Richard didn’t think it would take much to startle one of them into pulling the trigger.

  ‘… remember I told you I would have the power to inspire all men to become heroes. To work for a common goal with total dedication, total enthusiasm. I can inspire them to eradicate famine. I can inspire them to work and work until we’ve turned the deserts green again. This is a new world order. Peace will be —’