Sabina had disappeared, but Alex stumbled across Edward Pleasure in yet another of the castle’s many passageways, leaning on his walking stick while he talked on his BlackBerry. There was a spiral staircase just behind him, leading up to the next floor.
He closed up the phone as Alex approached. “That was Liz,” he said. “She’s not feeling any better and I’m beginning to think we ought to head back after all . . .”
“That’s fine with me,” Alex said. “In fact, Sabina was looking for you. She wants to leave too.”
It was half past eleven. In just thirty minutes there would be the countdown to midnight, balloons, more champagne, and a chorus of “Auld Lang Syne” before what had been described as the biggest fireworks display in Scotland. Guests were already streaming past, making their way into the main room. But Alex didn’t mind missing it. There was something about Kilmore Castle that he found unsettling. Maybe it was the fact that it was so ancient and remote, perched high above the loch as if it didn’t want to belong to the twenty-first century. He would be glad to see in the New Year somewhere else.
“Let’s wait here for Sabina,” Mr. Pleasure said. “She’s bound to turn up sooner or later.”
Neither of them spoke. Alex could hear music coming from the dance floor—now they’d shifted into Michael Jackson. A few more guests hurried past. One of them recognized him from the casino and smiled at him. Once again, the two of them were alone.
“So, are you looking forward to school?” Edward asked, as much to fill the silence as anything else.
“Yes. I am.” If the question had taken Alex by surprise, so did the answer. He really was looking forward to the start of the spring term. He felt safe at school. He felt normal.
“What was that essay you were working on?”
Alex had brought homework with him to Scotland. After taking so much time off, he was trying as best he could to catch up. “I’m doing a project about GM crops,” he said.
“GM?”
“You know . . . genetically modified. It’s something we’ve been looking at in biology. How scientists can muck around with crops and make them do different things.” Alex dredged his mind, trying to remember what he’d been learning the term before. “It’s something Prince Charles is always going on about,” he said. “He’s afraid they’ll accidentally destroy the world.”
“The real problem with GM crops could be the corporations who end up controlling them,” Edward said. “Have you heard of the terminator gene?”
Alex shook his head.
“It’s something they’ve built into plants that effectively turns them off. It stops them from reproducing. So if you want more wheat or barley or whatever, you have to go back to the same company and pay them. You see what I mean? Whoever controls the genes could end up controlling the world’s economy. It might be a good subject for me to write about myself. The real danger of genetically modified food . . .”
There was the sound of footsteps coming down the spiral staircase and suddenly Desmond McCain was there, pacing toward them. Sitting at the card table, Alex hadn’t realized how big the man was. He was almost seven feet tall, built like an American football player, with oversized shoulders and arms. Given his life story, he must have been at least fifty years old, but he looked much younger. He obviously still kept himself in shape.
Edward Pleasure turned around and recognized him. “Reverend McCain!” he exclaimed.
“Mr. Pleasure . . .” McCain came to a halt. Alex saw a hard-to-read emotion pass over his face. His eyes, ever so briefly, clouded over as the zigzag that was his mouth stretched tight. Then, just as quickly, the expression of unease was gone. He smiled. “I’m very glad you could make it to my little affair,” he said. He gestured at Alex. “Are the two of you together by any chance?”
“Yes. Have you met?”
“Alex and I were playing cards just a few minutes ago.” McCain’s smile remained, but it seemed a little strained and artificial. “If I’d known he was your guest, perhaps I wouldn’t have been so rash with my betting. He actually cleaned me out.” They were now all standing on the same level, but McCain still loomed over them. “How is the article?” he asked.
“It’s finished.”
“I hope it won’t contain any unpleasant surprises.”
“You won’t have long to wait. It should be out next month.”
“Have you delivered it?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m looking forward to reading it.” McCain examined the journalist as if it was his mind that he was trying to read. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then McCain blinked as if he had suddenly lost interest. “But now you must forgive me,” he said. “I have a speech to make. Thank you so much for coming to Kilmore Castle. It was very good to see you again. And a pleasure to meet you, Alex.”
He swept past them in the direction of the banqueting hall. Edward Pleasure was looking puzzled. “What was all that about?” he asked.
Alex shrugged. “I don’t know.” He hesitated. “I thought he looked upset about something. . . .”
“I thought so too.”
“Maybe he’s worried about what you’re going to write.”
“He shouldn’t be. I’ve already told you. I had nothing bad to say. Actually, I think he’s quite a remarkable man. Take tonight for example. All these people have come here because of him. And it’s all for charity. He never rests.”
He stopped as Sabina appeared, hurrying down the corridor toward them. “Dad!” she said. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Edward Pleasure put an arm around her. “We’re leaving,” he said. “Mum’s still awake. We can toast the New Year when we get in.”
They had no choice but to leave through the banqueting hall. By now all the guests had assembled and were standing together, champagne glasses in hand, facing the gallery where the bagpipe players had been performing and where McCain was about to make his speech. At least nobody would notice the three of them as they left early. Alex and Sabina followed Edward Pleasure and they made their way down the side of the buffet table—which had been partly cleared—on their way out.
There was a sudden fanfare, a single trumpeter standing at the back of the hall, his instrument glowing golden in the candlelight. The notes echoed across the chamber and the guests stopped talking and looked up expectantly. McCain appeared on the gallery. Two of the Highland pipers walked behind him, flanking him, a guard of honor. Alex couldn’t help wondering if they were about to burst into tune. But they stood back as McCain reached the front and looked down on the crowd.
“I want to thank you all for coming,” he began, his voice booming out. “I’ll be brief. It will turn midnight in exactly twenty minutes, and that’s when the party really begins. For those of you who stay the course, we’ll be serving haggis, neeps, and tatties, then a traditional Scottish breakfast to see you off. And the champagne will be flowing all night.”
A few people cheered. The invitation had made it clear that everyone was welcome until sunrise.
“We’re here to enjoy ourselves,” he went on. “But at the same time, we can’t forget the many terrible things that are happening around the world and the many millions of people who need our help. I want you to know that tickets sold for tonight’s party, along with raffle tickets, our silent auction, and private donations, have raised a fantastic $875,000 for First Aid.”
There was another burst of applause. Hearing it, Alex felt ashamed of himself. Whatever mistakes he had made in the past, McCain had more than redeemed himself. The whole evening was about helping other people, and in his own small way Alex had inadvertently spoiled it.
McCain held up a hand. “I have no idea how that money will be spent, but thank God it’s there.” He stressed the word God as if the two of them were personal friends. “This year, we had those terrible floods in Malaysia, the volcano eruption in Guatemala, and most recently, the incident at the Jowada power station in India, which could have been much
, much worse. We were there first. Your money went straight to the people who needed it. Charity is the bond of perfectness, as it says in the book of Colos sians. And the next time disaster strikes, wherever in the world it happens, we will be ready.”
Edward Pleasure had retrieved his coat and slipped it on. One of the waiters had opened the door to reveal a maelstrom of snow against an unforgiving night. It was time to go. Alex took one last look back, and it seemed to him that at that moment, standing on his own in the middle of the gallery, Desmond McCain stared straight at him, locking him into a final eye contact that ignored the six hundred people between them.
“Alex?” Sabina called out to him.
And then they were gone, out of the warmth of the castle, hurrying toward the car that Edward Pleasure was already unlocking, using the remote control on his key ring. The back lights blinked a welcome orange in the darkness. It had been snowing all evening. There was a carpet a couple of inches thick on the ground and on top of all the cars. If it continued much longer, Sabina might get her skiing break after all.
They threw themselves into the Nissan X-Trail, slamming the doors behind them and shaking loose some of the snow that had piled onto the car’s roof. Once again, Alex was glad that they had an off-road vehicle. They would need it tonight.
“What a night!” Edward Pleasure muttered, echoing Alex’s thoughts. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine began to throb reassuringly. He found the heating and turned it up as far as it would go. Alex was next to him. Sabina was once again in the back. “I’m afraid we’re actually going to have New Year on the road,” he said. “It’ll take us at least an hour to get home.”
“I don’t mind.” Sabina was already untangling the wires of her iPod. “That place gave me the creeps.”
“I thought you liked parties.”
“Yes, Dad. But not when I’m the youngest person there by about two hundred years.”
They set off, the tires crunching on the newly laid snow. The weather had briefly cleared—which was just as well. Edward Pleasure would need all the visibility he could get to negotiate his way down the series of hairpin bends that led to the main road beside the loch. Alex took one last look at the great bulk of Kilmore Castle. He could see the firelight glowing behind the windows of the banqueting hall and could imagine McCain’s speech ending, the balloons cascading, the kissing and the singing and then more drinking and dancing into the morning. He was glad they’d left early. He’d had a great time in Scotland, but, like Sabina, he’d felt slightly uncomfortable at the party. He loosened his bow tie, then pulled it off. He’d have preferred to have spent the evening at home.
The accident was so sudden, so unexpected, that none of them even realized it had happened until it was almost over. For Alex, it was as if the journey down the hillside had been broken into a series of still pictures. There was Edward Pleasure changing gear as the car picked up speed. How fast were they going? No more than twenty-five miles per hour. Sabina said something and he half turned around to answer her. The headlights were shooting out, two separate columns, distinct from each other.
And then there was a cracking sound. It seemed to come from a long way away, but that wasn’t possible. It had to be something in the engine. The car shuddered and lurched crazily to one side. Sabina cried out. There was nothing anyone could do. It was as if a giant hand had seized the back of the car and swung it around like a toy. Alex felt the tires slide helplessly across the road. Edward wrenched the steering wheel the other way, but it was useless. They were spinning out of control with the night sky rushing toward them. And then came the moment when the tires left the icy surface altogether, and with a surge of terror Alex knew that they had come off the edge of the rock face, that they were in the air with the black, frozen waters of Loch Arkaig far below.
For half a second the car hung in the air.
Then it pitched forward and plunged down.
5
DEATH AND CHAMPAGNE
IT WAS LIKE DRIVING deliberately into a black wall. They couldn’t stop. There was nothing they could do. The last thing Alex saw was Edward Pleasure clutching the steering wheel as if he had been electrified, his arms rigid, his eyes staring. Outside, the world had turned upside down. The headlights were bouncing off the surface of the loch, which hurtled toward them, filling the front window.
They hit the water. The actual impact was brutal, whipping them forward and backward at the same time. Alex realized that there must have been a thin coating of ice stretching across the lake—he heard it and felt it splinter. It was like smashing through a mirror into another dimension. The car didn’t float, even for a second. Carried on by its own velocity, it plunged into the darkness, huge tentacles of water reaching out and drawing it in. The real world of Scotland and castles and New Year was wiped out as if it had never existed, to be replaced by . . . nothing. All the lights in the car had gone out. It was as if steel shutters had fallen on the other side of the windows. Alex would never have believed that darkness could be so total.
Something was pressing against him, smothering him. For a moment he panicked, punching out with his fists, trying to get whatever it was off him. He couldn’t breathe. What was this huge thing pushing him back into his seat? Where had it come from? He forced himself to think straight, to fight against the sense of blind terror.
The air bag. That was all. It must have been activated at the moment of impact.
Air. He was going to need it. They were still sinking beneath the surface, getting deeper and deeper. He couldn’t see anything, but he could feel the pressure in his ears. There was no letup. It was getting worse and worse. How deep was the loch? Some of these Scottish lakes continued down for hundreds of feet. They would keep going until they reached the bottom, and that was where they would die. What had seconds before been a $35,000 luxury car had become a steel coffin.
There was a soft thud and a shudder as the tires came into contact with mud. Alex was aware of a ton of blackness weighing down on him. They weren’t moving anymore. That was something to be grateful for. But how far down had they gone? More to the point, how long did they have? The car wouldn’t be able to keep the water out for more than a few minutes. It was even now splashing down onto his feet, presumably coming through the air vents on either side of the satellite navigation system. The water was freezing cold, numbing the flesh at first touch. Already it was over his ankles. It was as if his legs were being taken away from him, one inch at a time.
“Dad?” It was Sabina’s voice, coming from the backseat. She sounded a mile away.
“Are you okay, Sabina?” Alex asked.
“Yes. I think so. What about Dad?”
Edward Pleasure hadn’t spoken since they had left the road. Alex reached out over the air bag and felt the worst. The journalist was resting against the steering wheel . . . unconscious, injured, perhaps even dead. It was impossible to say. Alex couldn’t see anything. He drew his hand back and held it in front of his own face, so close that it was brushing against his nose. He couldn’t see it. It was impossible to breathe normally. His heart was racing, trapped inside him, just as he was trapped in this car. He couldn’t deny it. He was terrified.
He swallowed hard and somehow managed to speak. “Your dad’s unconscious,” he said.
“What happened?” He could hear the tears in Sabina’s voice. Like him, she was struggling for control.
“I don’t know.”
“What do we do?”
It should have been silent here at the bottom of Loch Arkaig, yet Alex was aware of noise all around him. The engine was ticking and clanking as the engine cooled. There were strange, ghostlike echoes coming from the lake itself. The Nissan was groaning as it fought against the pressure outside. And—most terrible of all—a steady stream of water continued to splash into the cabin.
Alex felt the water rise over his knees, a blanket of ice. He was sure that it had only been at ankle level a few seconds ago, but time didn’t exist do
wn here. Seconds were hours and a whole life could be over in a minute.
There was the sound of fumbling in the back, then Sabina spoke again. “Alex . . . the door’s locked.”
“Don’t even try to open it!”
Different thoughts were spinning uselessly through his mind. The Nissan might have a self-locking system. If the doors had locked themselves electronically, it would be impossible to get out. But there was no point in getting out anyway. Inside or outside they would die.
“What are we going to do?”
Alex was still blind. He reached up, hitting his hand on the ceiling. Where was the light switch over the mirror? He found it and turned it on. Nothing. Of course, the car’s electrical circuits would have flooded. But then he remembered. Edward Pleasure had consulted a map just after they’d left Hawk’s Lodge . . . and he’d used a flashlight. Where had he put it?
He pushed the air bag out of the way and reached for the glove compartment. Somehow he managed to get it open, and more water poured out. God! They couldn’t have more than a few minutes left. The water had already risen over the edge of his seat, rushing between his legs. It was unbelievably cold. The whole lower part of his body no longer belonged to him.
But he had found what he was looking for. A heavy rubber cylinder. He flicked it on and to his utter relief it worked. The beam leapt out of his hand.
Alex had experienced more than enough in the past year, but he would never forget what he saw right then. It was the perfect nightmare.
The car was already half filled with water, which looked as black and as thick as oil. More of it was pouring out of the ventilation ducts, coming in two steady streams. Outside the windows there was nothing. The glass didn’t even look like glass. They could have been buried alive rather than deep under the surface of Loch Arkaig . . . it would have made no difference. The two air bags took up most of the space in the front of the car. Edward Pleasure was slumped against his, a great gash on the side of his head. Alex undid his seat belt and twisted around. Sabina was looking more frightened than he had ever seen her. She had drawn up her legs as if she were cowering away from the water, but it had reached her anyway. It completely covered the backseat. The bottom of her silver dress was soaked. She was shivering with cold and fear.
Crocodile Tears Page 5