Darker by Simon Clark
‘I don’t care.’ She shot him a grin. ‘It’s stolen anyway.’
First, they walked around the cottage looking for the best way in.
Despite the carnage wreaked by the thing just a hundred or so yards away, the cottage looked like a holiday home waiting for the owners to arrive. The swimming pool at the side was neatly covered by a flexible blue plastic sheet to prevent dirt and leaves from being blown into the water.
‘That window up there, above the conservatory.’ He pointed. ‘If I climb on to the conservatory roof I could lift you up to it.’
He half-expected her to suggest another way but she immediately ran to the trellising attached to the wall and used it like a ladder to reach the conservatory roof.
‘Come on,’ she said, ‘I’ll give you a hand up.’ She knelt on the glass roof. ‘Don’t stamp your feet or anything like that. It should be toughened glass but I wouldn’t like to stake my life on it.’
Some of the wooden slats snapped beneath Richard’s more substantial weight but at last, panting, he hauled himself on to the glass roof, with the conservatory’s wicker furniture ten feet below.
‘I see what you mean,’ he said as the glass made tiny cracking sounds. When he stood he made sure his feet were firmly planted on the steel frame that held the glass.
Gingerly, he edged his way to the wall. The window was in two sections. The lower section was within easy reach but firmly locked. The upper smaller window was open.
‘I’ll make a stirrup with my hands,’ he told her, his back resting against the cottage wall. ‘Step into it; can you reach the window?’
She stepped into his hands and he hoisted her towards he window, amazed at how light she was.
‘Easy peasy,’ he heard her say as she slipped head first through the narrow window.
In seconds, she’d opened the larger window. He hauled himself through to find himself in the bedroom that he and Christine had shared the night before; the duvet still pulled back revealed the depression that their bodies had made. Christ, he just wanted to hold his wife and his daughter close and not let go. Ever.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Rosemary gently. ‘You look exhausted.’
He forced a smile. ‘I’ll be OK. Maybe we can grab a coffee and a bite to eat while we’re here. Come on, let’s start looking.’
Rosemary whistled with surprise at the sight of Michael’s high-tech office.
‘From what he told us,’ Richard said, switching on the computer, ‘this office is a clone of half a dozen or more scattered round the country from Devon to Scotland. He’d go from one to the other, with that thing he called the Beast following him. When he’d put some space between himself and the thing, he’d come to one of these houses, work on the information his research team were feeding him; then, when it got close, move on to the next house.’
Money was no problem then; this set-up must have cost thousands.’
‘I guess he was on his way to one of these houses when his car broke down and he ended up at my house.’
Rosemary pulled a file from the shelf and turned the pages. ‘Ah, the car,’ she said in a voice that to Richard sounded remarkably bitter. ‘You saw it, then?’
‘No, he reached my house on foot.’
‘It was all like this.’ She dropped the file down beside a pair of fax machines. ‘No expense spared. A new BMW. It still had the plastic covers on the seats.’
‘A BMW?’ Realization started to burn. ‘It wasn’t by any chance white?’
‘It was, actually.’
‘Hell fire.’ Richard slammed his palm down on to the desk, making Rosemary jump. ‘The bastard.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I saw that white BMW. But it was, let’s see, three days before I first clapped eyes on Michael. My daughter Amy found the car in the ditch opposite our house. Damn, damn … it’s all adding up now. It was Michael who opened the gate on Friday night. And … and Mark found a patch of blood on the garden path. Michael had a cut on his nose just here. Hell, yes!’
He looked up at Rosemary. She looked confused, almost frightened by the way he was walking up down the room, punching a fist into his open palm, talking to himself.
‘It’s OK, I’m not mad. Far from it, I’m just beginning to understand.’
‘You mean that Michael arrived at your house three days before you actually saw him?’
‘Yes. And that he was hiding nearby somehow. And watching us. Watching Amy particularly. He’s got something planned for her.’
Rosemary looked up at him, eyes glistening. ‘And I’m afraid I think I know what that something is.’
Chapter 62
Plans for Amy
Rosemary said, ‘I think he plans to use Amy to control that entity that’s been following him. He thought I could do it. I couldn’t and it almost killed me.’
‘But Amy? Why Amy? For Godsakes, she’s only four years old.’
She shrugged. ‘I think he knows time’s running out. Michael’s getting desperate.’
Richard looked round at the files and books on the shelves. ‘Then we better start looking. Perhaps one of these will give us some idea where he’s taken her.’
‘You take that shelf, I’ll take this one,’ she said.
Richard pulled a plastic-backed file marked DIRECTORY from the shelf. Listed were names of individuals and organizations with telephone or E-mail numbers; no addresses. He checked under ‘M’ on the off-chance there would be a Middleton Hall. Nothing. Middleton Hall had been a false address simply to keep Richard out of the picture.
‘Listen to this,’ she said, then read from a file. ‘This is an extract from something called The Alchemy of Spirits, Demons And Other Such Beasts Without Flesh. “So far, it can be said that only Alexander the Great was successful in carrying the Byzantine Beast beyond the Purple Crescent. Even so, he could not contain it for ever and perished young. Constantine the First understood this restriction. Accordingly he transferred the seat and centre of the Roman Empire from Rome to Byzantium so that he might benefit from the Beast’s vitality.”’ Rosemary looked up. ‘It’s underlined in red so I imagine it must be important. Have you any idea what it means?’
Richard nodded grimly. ‘I think I have. It means Michael has made an almighty cock-up. He should never have taken the Beast away from its home territory in Turkey. Let’s have a look at that.’
Rosemary handed him the file. Quickly, he flicked over the pages. More areas of text had been underlined. He read them almost at random but the gist was clear enough. ‘The Ottoman Turks conquered Constantinople in 1453. Presumably they also learned how to enter into that relationship with the Beast. Here it says that in 1596 a certain Sultan Isma’il attempted to take the Beast with him when he marched north in a bid to conquer the whole of Europe, and I quote: “At the gates of Vienna Sultan Isma’il cried out in agony. His generals watched him die, pressed to death by a grievous weight no human eye could see.” The planned Ottoman Turk invasion of Europe collapsed and they retreated to Turkey.’
‘So,’ Rosemary thoughtfully ran her finger down the line of scabs on her face. ‘What Michael is trying to do is impossible.’
‘That’s what most of these people think. But he knows that Alexander the Great was successful in taking the Beast all the way to India before he lost control of it.’
‘Then he died very shortly afterwards.’
‘But Michael’s confident he can find a solution to the problem. Apparently there’s an ancient document known as the Codex Alexander which contains instructions how to do exactly that.’
‘And he’s got hold of a copy?’
‘In the last few days. His research team have been deciphering the thing. Presumably now Michael is taking my family to wherever the research team are based.’
Rosemary pulled file after file from the shelf. Richard watched her, eyes hard with concentration. If the file was of no use she simply threw it on the floor. ‘Ah, here’s something about the Codex Alexander. It
‘Let me see.’
Rosemary handed him the file. ‘I’ll make us something to eat and drink. Is there still food in the kitchen?’
‘There is, but I’m not hungry.’
Again he underestimated her. ‘You’re going to eat something, Richard. If you’re going to be of any help to your family you’ve got to eat, drink and rest when you need to.’
He was almost as surprised as her when he felt the grin on his face. ‘OK, boss.’
For ten minutes he read the sheets of fax paper bound in the file, his eyes skipping from one red underlined section to the next. His heart beat faster as he began to understand what Michael intended. At this stage he wasn’t sure if it would involve Christine or Amy, or both of them, but he saw that Michael planned to —
That’s when the scream came from the kitchen.
Chapter 63
More Visions
After hearing Rosemary scream Richard reached the kitchen in four seconds flat.
His first thought: Someone’s arrived at the cottage. The police? Michael’s people?
He found Rosemary staring out of the window, eyes bulging, the knife in her hand held so tightly it quivered.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Oh.’ She took a deep quivering breath. ‘I can see … I can see what she’s seeing.’
‘Amy?’
He saw Rosemary didn’t respond to what he said but continued to stare out of the window entranced. Every so often her head moved – a little shake, then a nod, as if she was replying to some unheard voice.
‘… grass, stretching right up there. Lots, lots of it … Trees … but they are trees in cages. Metal cages around trees. Big house …’ Her face grew even more pale; her eyes looked enormous. ‘Road going up. Narrow road. Outside big house people waiting. And flying. Now flying.’ Rosemary shook her head puzzled. ‘Amy? Amy, how are you flying? What animals? I don’t know what the animals are. Running animals. Running animals and flying. Down below there are fields, houses. Toy houses. Little cars. Now the house. Big house. Big windows. Big chimneys. People waiting outside. Joey, who are those people? Are they waiting for us. Joey looks scared. Joey doesn’t like what … Hmmph …’
‘Rosemary. Are you all right?’
She blinked, then turned so she could lean back against the worktop. The knife still tightly clenched in her hand shook, the blade dangerously close to the underside of her chin.
‘Hmm? Richard … I thought you were in the study. I’m cutting cheese for …’
‘Take it easy. Here, sit down. It’s OK, I’ll hold the chair. And you best give me that knife.’ Gently he took the knife from her and sat her down at the kitchen table. He crouched beside her.
‘Rosemary. You were looking through Amy’s eyes. What did you see?’
Her eyes still gleamed strangely; she looked as if she was waking from a dream.
‘Yes … yes, I was. But it wasn’t like before. It came so strongly, but all jumbled up. Like she was excited or —’
‘Frightened?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head quickly, still dazed. ‘I saw … no, Amy saw something moving fast toward her. An animal of some sort.’
Richard was appalled. ‘Jesus, it wasn’t that thing, was it?’
‘No. It can’t have been. It was running towards them. Then alongside them. But it was all muddled up. First I saw they were driving along a narrow road through a grass field that was dotted with trees.’
‘You said trees in cages? What does that mean?’
She shrugged, her confusion painful to see. ‘I’m not sure. Trees in cages? I said that? I don’t remember.’ Her eyes were troubled. ‘Anyway, that doesn’t make sense. Who’d put a tree in a cage?’
‘Never mind that now. What else did you see?’ Richard asked gently. ‘Any place names, signposts?’
‘No.’
‘You talked about flying. Is it an airport?’
‘No. The grass field sloped quite steeply … and the word animals keeps coming back to me. Amy saw some animals. They excited her. As if they were something new to her. But …’ She shook her head, forehead wrinkling. ‘I kept seeing images of the ground as if far below. But when she gets excited she mixes what she’s actually seeing with what she’s remembering. Has she ever flown before?’
‘No, never.’
She sighed. ‘Well, I think she has now. I got the impression it was a small aircraft. I could clearly see fields and houses far below. And I could feel how thrilled she was.’
‘Damn. If Michael drove to an airport from here then took a plane they could be anywhere now. The continent, Ireland.’ He began to pace the kitchen. ‘Anything else?’
‘The house came through clearly. A huge place, like a mansion built out of red brick with tall chimneys at each end.’
‘It looked new?’
‘No. A couple of hundred years at least.’
‘And there were people standing outside as if there to welcome them.’
‘Yes. Including some in white coats, you know, the sort doctors wear.’
Richard looked at the clock. Five past one. Again the certainty bit into him. Time’s running out. He had to find them soon.
Rosemary stood up and went back to making the sandwiches. ‘I don’t remember anything else. Only …’ She looked back at Richard. ‘The expression on Joey’s face. He looked scared. Very scared.’
Richard returned to the study. He swept files from the shelves on to the floor, more in pointless rage than in an attempt to find anything. He couldn’t access the computer because he didn’t know the code. The temptation to put his fist through its stupid screen was enormous.
And why hadn’t he been able to see through Amy’s eyes? He’d had those clairvoyant flashes on the bus. Why had the ability deserted him now? Why —
Christ, Richard. This is getting you nowhere. Either go the whole hog, tear off your clothes and run screaming down the hillside – or sit down and start reading.
He returned to the Codex Alexander file. Michael had taken the latest pages with him, but there were still the earlier notes.
One researcher noted that although Alexander the Great was homosexual he always kept women close to him in his entourage. The researcher suggested that the women were important in the control of the Beast. Over the page, a photocopy of what looked like a fragment of Greek text on papyrus. Beneath that a hand-written translation: ‘… honoured and gratified as he is by these gifts of gold and ivory, and pleased though he is with thy bronze likeness, my King requests the provision of girls. These should not be slaves, but girls of high breeding, with intelligence and with charm. My King requests that the girls be sent to him upon your good Majesty reading these words …’ The same researcher had added a note: ‘Extract from Alexander’s letter to one of his newly conquered kingdoms. It’s clear from the letter that he needed women from the aristocratic classes. He needed them desperately, yet one supposes not for any sexual purpose, considering his own preferences.’
Richard flicked through the pages, reading fragments here and there. These only reinforced his own fears. Michael wants Amy and Christine for a purpose.
Towards the end of the file, another letter written by a Baghdad priest after meeting Alexander the Great: ‘The conqueror of the world, this great and glorious man, walks everywhere holding the hands of two teenage girls like an idiot boy not allowed from his father’s house alone. They say the girls hold the reins of an invisible lion that leaps upon men and tears out their hearts if they disobey what their King instructs. If this is the case, it is a wearying task for the girls. Not yet sixteen, they have the eyes and lips of ancient grandmothers. Gossips tell me that once Alexander orders a girl to hold his lion’s reins they grow old in months and die broken by grievous sores and tumours.’
Richard’s mouth was dry. So that was it.
Michael had Christine and Amy. All the pieces of the jigsaw where flying together at a breathtaking rate.
Richard stood up and kicked the wastepaper basket savagely, sending balls of discarded paper across the room.
Where the hell are they? he thought desperately. This room must contain a clue. It has to. He started wrenching drawers from the desk, emptying the contents into a pile. Pencils, pens, notebooks, banknotes bound together by a rubber band, keys. Junk, junk, junk!
Rosemary came to the door and watched him silently as he tore the place apart.
At last she said, ‘Michael must have been telephoning someone from here. His research team.’
‘Yes, but there’s a file full of numbers there. Which one?’
‘You could pick up the phone and press the redial button.’
‘What? And say, “Excuse me, has Michael brought my kidnapped family there, by any chance?”’
‘I don’t know, Richard.’
He sighed. ‘What have I got to lose?’ He picked up the phone and pressed the last-number redial. He waited as the numbers clicked through the earpiece.
He reached the speaking clock. Either Michael had genuinely wanted to know the time, or, more likely, he’d simply been covering his tracks.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, watching her opening the screwed-up balls of paper that had come from the basket.
‘You said Michael had also been sending faxes. These might be the originals he put through the machine this morning.’
Richard quickly joined her, smoothing out the sheets of paper.
‘My God,’ breathed Richard. ‘So Michael’s empire was coming apart at the seams.’