The One Who Is Two (Book 1 of White Rabbit)

by Stuart Oldfield

Chapter 5

  The car was a vast thing, a huge metal predator. Its polished bodywork radiated blackness like a dark sun and its tinted windows watched him silently. Purring dangerously to itself beside the verge, it emanated power, a sinister, irresistible power – it had come for him, Loofah knew that at once. With the gentle click of well-machined metal, the back door swung smoothly open. The inside was a dark capsule of padded grey leather, a luxurious cell. He felt the pull of the vehicle's mechanical power and of the compelling authority of wealth. It was commanding him to get in and it clearly would not recognise refusal.

  Yet the car scared him, its baleful authority chilled his blood, and so he hesitated, grinning nervously at his own reflection in the tinted windows. Perhaps he should run away and hide in the hedge, and then go and find out more about the mysterious double woman to whom everybody seemed to attach such importance. But then what would be the penalty for defying the owners of a vehicle like this? It might be best just to go and see Miss Leggett and sort out the silly mistake about his supposed wrongdoing. And so Loofah vacillated, too frightened to get into the car, too frightened not to.

  At this moment someone called to him in a thin bleating voice, akin to the whining of a sick sheep. A short fat man in a dark suit was hurrying up the road, carrying an old leather briefcase and hailing Loofah with his umbrella.

  'Hello there! Wait a moment, please, I need to talk to you.'

  A blurred image that could have been a memory drifted across Loofah's mind like a wisp of mist, of a girl in white, his pretty young angel, somehow linked in foul and unholy union with a repugnant little toad – the same repugnant little toad that was now trotting up the road towards him. Without further hesitation he climbed into car.

  As Loofah sank into the seat, the rich cool leather enveloped him like the embrace of a highborn mistress. The door closed by itself, with an expensive click sealing him into a muffled world of purring engine and deep upholstery, of wealth and authority.

  The little man reached the car just as it glided away. Loofah could hear his distant muffled shouts, he could see his anxious face and his pudgy little hands pressed against the tinted glass. But in reality Loofah was a thousand miles away, secure within his capsule of power. His own mother could have been beating on the window and he would have done exactly what he did now; he turned coolly away as the car sped forward, leaving the little toad sprawled in the road, kicking his feet and beating his chubby fists on the tarmac.

  The acceleration pushed him back into the caressing softness of the leather and he felt the vehicle's power surge through him, an electric thrill of omnipotence. There was no driver, Loofah noted casually, just the steering wheel rotating smoothly by itself and the gear-stick moving to and fro between the empty front seats as they picked up speed. He trusted the car, completely and utterly – within its protective sphere he was beyond all danger. He knew now that he had made the right decision. After all, what counted for more – a car like this, or a dressed-up dog, a sex-crazed toy, and a bad tempered peg?

  From the inside of his omnipotent conveyance Loofah watched the world slide past with supercilious detachment. Trees and hedges which had threatened and attacked; fields and paths where he had stumbled in confused fear; houses full of malice and horror: they were now no more than images flickering harmlessly on the other side of the glass. They turned out of the lane onto a bigger road – there were other cars here, but ordinary domestic vehicles, small pathetic things that scuttled out the way as the awesome limousine swept past. Soon it was not fields sliding across the tinted windows, but large detached houses, aspiring mansions set in opulent gardens protected by high walls of laurel and copper beech.

  Three electronic beeps prodded discretely into the muffled silence and then a voice addressed him.

  'That was the time signal. And now the news, brought to you by the Company and by the grace of Mr Stobart, our Chief Executive.' It was a radio, moulded into the polished walnut fascia. 'Corporate results for the quarter were released today. Performance targets have yet again been exceeded in all sectors. In a written statement, the Chief Executive thanked all staff for their magnificent effort: a big "well done!" for everybody.'

  A village green slid past, then two small shops – 'eight-til-late' – and more houses: massive and arrogant, oozing a miasma of smug affluence into the tinted afternoon.

  'Mr Stobart goes on to warn that this success must not be an excuse for complacency. The targets for the next quarter have been set higher than ever, but management is confident of even greater efforts from the team to maintain our unbeaten run of success.' The radio spoke in a soothing, confidential voice, as if it were a close and caring friend. 'Adding her praise to that of the Chief Executive, Miss Leggett, Under Manager for this sector, has asked staff to remember that our achievement would not have been possible without Mr Stobart's wise and masterful leadership.'

  They were now gliding down a hill, flanked on each side by detached houses: closed and exclusive, silent guardians of privilege.

  'Earlier today children of staff enjoyed a party in the village hall. The occasion was an advance celebration of Mr Stobart's birthday, which is now only two months away. Entertainments included a bouncy castle and a paddling pool, together with soft drinks and ice cream in a choice three flavours: vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate. As they left, each child was presented with a red balloon printed in yellow with Mr Stobart's initials – and paid for out the Chief Executive's own pocket! I'll wager there were some happy young faces around the village after that little lot!'

  Happy children skipped past on the tinted glass and Loofah smiled. What a nice news bulletin, he thought. And what a nice man Mr Stobart sounded; perhaps he might get to meet him as well as Miss Leggett. Protected by the car and cuddled by the friendly radio, he felt so warm and safe. He couldn't think why the old lady had got so upset after Miss Leggett's phone call, but there was sure to be some simple, harmless explanation.

  'The next item is not quite so pleasant.'

  A black and white pub slid by, fronted by a picture of two big kindly horses pulling a cart full of hay.

  'All staff are asked to be on the lookout for a criminal presently at large in the area. This deviant has been committing various acts of public disorder, including acts of indecency involving plants, animals, and under-age girls.'

  A single storey garage squatted beside a roundabout. Masses of cars were whirling all about, so many silly little toys. A creeping unease began to chill Loofah's flesh.

  'Miss Leggett is leading the hunt for this degenerate. She has warned that while he remains at large, everybody is at risk. In particular, parents are being advised to keep children indoors until the pervert has been apprehended.'

  Another pub – a slim grey dog – and a church made of red Lego. He dreaded what was coming next.

  'The following description has been issued: a man in his late thirties with receding hair and glasses, wearing a black leather jacket, a green tee-shirt with orange lettering, and ludicrous fawn zip-up shoes.'

  Loofah was now looking out onto a high street full of people and cars. While they were paused at a pedestrian crossing, shoppers peered through the tinted glass with dinosaur faces, hostile and predatory, searching the inside of the limousine. He pulled his jacket across the tee-shirt, cringing into the stiff leather of his padded cell.

  'Any sightings of the deviant should be reported immediately to senior management. The Under Manager has stressed that this person is not be approached under any circumstances.'

  Even the car itself was watching him, he could sense its cold suspicion.

  'It's not me, you know,' Loofah said defensively, 'There's been an error. A mix up. A case of mistaken identity.'

  The indicator flashed and the great car swung between low brick walls embedded with the 'S' emblem in yellow metal and a carved granite sign: 'The Company – Sector Office'. The leather of the seats, the hard curve of th
e steering wheel, the lights and dials of the instrument panel: he was crushed by their quiet revulsion.

  'Honestly. It'll all be cleared up. You'll see.'

  The car swept into a courtyard of red brick office buildings with shallow, Swiss chalet, roofs. After circling a floral display with a stainless steel fountain it pulled up outside the main entrance: tall doors of brown glass with the corporate logo embossed in gold. The car door swung brusquely open, ordering him out.

  'A mistake, nothing more,' Loofah pleaded, 'You believe me, don't you?'

  The door glided closed behind him. The impenetrable black carapace sealing itself against him was the vehicle's reply.

  With the limousine gone, Loofah was alone in the courtyard. Apart from the echoing trickle of water in the steel bowl of the fountain, there was no movement, no sound. The hard walls of the offices towered over him, casting cold, dark shadows. He could see no-one through the brown glass windows, but he could feel a thousand eyes boring into him, seeing through his clothes, through his skin and his flesh, through into the foulness, the filthy slime, that slithered inside. As he stood there in that deserted courtyard, he was tried, convicted and sentenced – without right of appeal.

  Sensing movement behind, he turned. One of the glass doors stood open, beckoning him into the foyer. The ominous crush of buildings pressed down on him, forcing him back into its gaping mouth. He looked around quickly for a possible escape route but the courtyard was now completely closed, the entrance way through which the limousine had come and gone having somehow been sealed over by brick and glass. He was trapped, there was nowhere else to go.

  And so, with the enthusiasm of a condemned man going to the gallows, Loofah entered the Office.