Stations of the Soul

by Chris Lewando

  Hell, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  At the foot of the stairs, Freman desperately wanted to ask why the cells were there, but a shiver of apprehension told him to get out. ‘I should go now,’ he said, heading for the short flight of steps leading towards daylight.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Joel said softly. ‘It was you who let Sarah out, wasn’t it?’ The soft tone slipped instantly from jovial to menacing, and Freman bolted for the door. At least he tried to. Joel was fast. He grasped Freman’s wrist and twisted it behind his back hard enough to make Freman squeal and double over. He slipped the precious camera from Freman’s bowed neck. ‘I’ll take care of this. We wouldn’t want it getting into the wrong hands, would we?’

  He opened the door of a cell, and propelled Freman before him. Then, before releasing him, he grabbed one of Freman’s fingers, and pressed. There was a sound like a snapping twig, and Freman experienced a bolt of pain like nothing he had known in his whole life. This time it wasn’t a squeal, but a scream.

  ‘That was for letting Sarah out.’

  Joel waited until he was breathing again, then broke a finger on his other hand. ‘And that’s so you don’t do anything incredibly stupid like try to attack me. Scream all you like. No one will hear.’

  As the door closed behind him, and was bolted from the outside, Freman sucked in a long breath, and managed to not cry out. It would be pointless, miles from anywhere, and would achieve nothing but provide satisfaction to Joel. What had just happened? What the hell had just happened? He waited until he heard the outer door close, then tried the door handle, awkwardly using both hands, favouring his broken fingers, despite knowing it wouldn’t open. He slumped onto the bench behind him, and cradled his damaged hands in his lap, fully realising what an idiot he’d been.

  He’d rescued Sarah, and had then walked back in here, allowing his excitement at a potential breakout story to override that fact that he knew Joel was off the wall. Not that he’d realised the extent of it. He was a bloody idiot. And Joel hadn’t even bothered to relieve him of his Taser.

  For the first time in his life, he was terrified. His stories, up to now, had been fairly domestic, despite his success. He did not self-delude. He hadn’t driven into warzones, or braved mountains or deserts or sixty-foot waves. He had simply trawled for good, old fashioned weepies, retiring to his comfortable home at the end of each assignment, gratified by a fat cheque and a whiskey.

  He’d coped with anger, been the recipient of death threats, and had been severely slashed once with a domestic knife, but had never experienced this cold, calculated promise of harm. Right now, he was in enemy territory, in the hands of a torturer. For of one thing he was certain: Joel had enjoyed hurting him. He was a child whose will had been crossed. The kind of child who, having once enjoyed pulling the legs off spiders, had moved onto bigger prey.

  Except that, strangely, he hadn’t spoken like a bear with no brain. He’d spoken as an older man would, one with intelligence, a traditional education, and life experience. Freman was very sure he’d stumbled onto something rather weirder than a crumbling mansion and brotherly jealousy, but the explanation eluded him, and was buried beneath the larger terror that had frozen his brain: Joel had no intention of letting him get out alive.

  Freman wished he’d been open with Redwall, but it was too late for wishes. There was hope in the back of his mind that Sarah or Robin would somehow work out that his disappearance had not been voluntary. But there was no point in waiting to be rescued. With difficulty, trying not to jar the fingers that were sticking out at a strange angle, and swelling massively, he pulled the Taser from his pocket, and pointed it towards the door.

  Chapter 40

  After collecting a lump of cash from the bank, Robin had driven northeast, towards Cambridge, pulling in to a commuter motel in the mid-afternoon. He’d been prepared to book in for several days, but Sarah was paranoid. ‘If we stay only one night at each place, he’s less likely to find us.’

  ‘From what you’ve told me, he’s unlikely to find us at all,’ Robin said.

  ‘I don’t know. There’s something strange going on. He’s changed. Can a person actually increase in intelligence?’

  ‘I don’t think so, unless something to do with the difference is doing it?’

  ‘If that were possible, it would have made itself known by now – I’d be like Einstein.’

  ‘So, relax. We’ll go out for dinner, and brainstorm over a glass of chilled Chardonnay.’

  Her smile was only slightly wan. ‘Sounds great.’

  In fact, it was great. Robin had no doubts at all about Sarah. He’d been concerned when she hadn’t returned his calls, then he’d been really worried when Redwall said she’d disappeared, and even wondered if she’d run because he’d got too close. But she hadn’t fled from him. She’d been locked in a cell, for God’s sake. His frustration, that he hadn’t gone running to her rescue, was all the more acute because he had doubted her commitment.

  He suspected Sarah’s fear of Joel was exacerbated by her feminine weakness to his abnormal male strength. But any man could have locked her in a cell, not just Joel. She was frightened of him with good reason, probably, but while they stayed one step ahead, that was not so much a worry as the very real problem of how to handle the future.

  It occurred to him for the first time that they should go further – the continent, America, or Australia. Sarah’s love for, and almost irrational fear of, Joel was going to prove a hindrance to any long-term solution other than simply evading him. But Robin knew one thing: he would keep her safe from Joel, even if he had to call Redwall in to help, and have Joel institutionalised.

  In the morning, Robin stretched luxuriously, feeling positive. Maybe it was because he’d been starved of human warmth for such a long time, or maybe Sarah truly was everything he had ever hoped for in his woman – warm, responsive, intelligent and caring. The future was going to work out. He had difficulty coming to terms with the stuff about seeing souls; he didn’t really believe it, in fact. To believe, he would have to experience, and he wasn’t sure that would ever happen. But he truly was changing in some peculiar way – and at the moment that didn’t seem bad, as not only was he regaining his former strength, slight blemishes, like a few freckles over his nose, and the mole on his left arm, were disappearing.

  He was wallowing in a strangely contented state of mind, when Sarah turned on the TV. The breaking news was of a suburban house in Southeast London having been reduced to a pile of rubble by what was thought to be a gas explosion. They showed an image of his house as it had been – God knew where they found that – and the war zone it had become.

  Sarah’s eyes met his. ‘Joel,’ she whispered.

  Robin was gobsmacked. ‘He blew up my house? What if I’d been in it?’

  ‘He probably went in, looking for me, and found the place empty. I guess he did it to, I don’t know, teach you a lesson? You thought I was being paranoid, didn’t you?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘His behaviour isn’t just obsessive, it’s become fanatical.’

  Then Robin’s face was plastered on the screen; a fairly recent image clearly displaying the scars on his face from the accident. ‘Reporters!’ He bit back an expletive. ‘When did they take that?’

  But if that was the only image they showed, no one would recognise him from it. The scars had faded to almost nothing. But they had a clear image of Sarah.

  ‘Driving licence,’ she said grimly. ‘And if they’ve followed that, they’ve found out that Thompson isn’t my real name.’

  ‘I’d assumed you’d been married, or had your mother’s name?’

  ‘No. But my birth certificate put me at over fifty years old. I found someone who supplies new IDs.’

  ‘You are resourceful.’

  She stopped as the camera focused on DCI Redwall. ‘We’re appealing to anyone who knows the whereabouts of Robin Vanger and Sarah Thompson…’

&nbs
p; ‘Out, now,’ Sarah said, grabbing her clothes. ‘Someone’s going to notice, and call the police. I’m sorry I got you involved. I should have put you off when you came to the hospital looking for me. I’m sorry I brought all this down on you. So sorry.’

  ‘We should come clean with Redwall…’

  ‘And tell him what? I know I said I’d talk to him, but in all honesty, I don’t know what I’d say. He’s not going to be receptive towards stories that can’t be explained, and the moment we go back, Joel will be on to us.’

  ‘Is it possible the explosion at my house was accidental?’

  ‘No.’

  Robin watched the streets flash by as Sarah drove. They were headed for Peterborough, for no other reason than it was heading away from London.

  ‘My house blew up,’ he said finally. ‘I saw it on TV. My house blew up.’ He bolted upright. ‘Oh, God. Jaws! Oh, Christ!’

  ‘If Joel went in the house and turned on the gas, I expect the cat left. Cats have more sense than humans. But maybe you were supposed to be there. That’s how desperate he is to not let me go. What I don’t understand is why he’s changed now. He could lose his temper, before, but he was never vindictive or so calculating.’

  ‘You think he would have killed me?’

  ‘I don’t know. As I said, everything seems wrong somehow. Anyway, now the police have broadcast that, he’ll know you’re still alive, and guess that I’m with you.’

  ‘Why is he so possessive? Was he always like that?’

  ‘Not to the same extent. It only got like this when I moved into the city.’

  He glanced at her profile. ‘I know he’s your brother, but can’t you see he’s just plain bad?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I can’t accept. He was never bad. He was just needy, the way a child is needy. Selfish, maybe. But not bad. It’s as if he’s become a different person. I need to try to get him back, work out what’s gone wrong.’

  He leaned his head back onto the headrest, wondering where her loyalties would lie if push came to shove. Joel wasn’t like a brother to her; he was closer than that. He was, to all intents and purposes, her son. She’d raised him, protected him, even killed for him. And as his body had gone through the stages of childhood and adolescence to full grown man, his mental capacity had remained that of a needy child. Now that needy child had the body of a wrestler, the strength of an ox, and a possessive streak that exceeded the bounds of human decency. Despite what he said to Sarah, Joel scared the hell out of him.

  Later, while he drove, Sarah got onto the internet and found an Air B&B that would take payment from PayPal.

  ‘I’ve got a bit of money in there, but it won’t last long,’ she said.

  ‘PayPal’s a great way of bypassing mainstream accounting,’ he observed with bank-managery condescension, then smiled. ‘I’ve got one, too, but there’s little enough in it.’

  ‘Of course you have. It’s a way to do what you want with money you’ve already paid taxes on at least three times over. Don’t tell me you didn’t deposit some of your pay-out into offshore accounts, too?’

  ‘A bit,’ he admitted. ‘Well, most of it. I’ve never had that kind of money before, and it did occur to me that someone might try to take it back.’

  ‘Just as well. If the police really want to find you, they’ll freeze your bank accounts next.’

  ‘They might have already done that, but I can’t check. The moment I do that, they’ll be onto us.’

  ‘This is a bit nineteen-eighty-four.’

  ‘Well past that! Orwell proposed a dark possibility of the future. He couldn’t have guessed it would be far worse, slipped insidiously into our lives under the guise of improved technology. We’re under more surveillance now than the Russians were during the cold war. The daft thing is, people seem to think it’s been put there for their safety, but I don’t think crime figures have dropped. In truth, it’s there to keep the little people doing what they’re supposed to do – make money to keep the rich comfortable.’

  ‘Cynical.’

  Robin grimaced, and continued. ‘I had a lot of time to think, after the accident. When I was working, I used to believe that I was protecting people’s interests, but I was brainwashed into believing we have control over our own lives. All of us are pawns to those above us in the financial stakes. I never thought I’d say it, but whoever caused that pileup liberated me – mentally and financially.’

  ‘I guess it’s good that you can see a positive side to what happened.’

  ‘It’s a tiny ray of light in a dark place. So, where are we going now?’

  ‘Well, Dad had a cottage in Hope Valley, in Derbyshire. I don’t know why he bought it. I don’t think I want to know. I don’t even know if it’s still habitable. And someone might even be living there.’

  ‘Hope Valley? Is that applicable, or what? Won’t Joel think of it, though?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know about it. It just didn’t occur to me to mention it, and after father died, I burned all his papers. Everything. I didn’t sort out anything. Probably the deeds of Wood Hall went up in flames, too. Good riddance. The thing was, I didn’t want anyone to be able to reproduce his work, if it was even possible. I suspect the changes he made to our DNA were accidental rather than designed. He was experimenting with things that were barely understood. He was playing God, and the higher education institutions were still rooted in ethical codes dictated by the church. Anyway, Joel couldn’t have found out about the cottage by accident.’

  ‘Derbyshire it is, then.’

  ‘There won’t be anything usable, like beds or anything.’

  ‘We’ll go shopping.’

  ‘Yeah, but first we need to ditch this car, and get another one.’

  ‘I haven’t got that much cash. And don’t you have to show your driving licence, or some other form of identity, when you buy a car?’

  ‘Sure do. My name’s Sarah Waterman, remember? I just hope they don’t check the birth date. I don’t look fifty-two.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said weakly. ‘It seems I’ve fallen in love with a professional criminal. I suppose you have a bank account in that name, too?’

  At a seedy garage, they bought a tatty white van, with seats that had largely collapsed, and suspension that had given up the ghost many years before. It was the most uncomfortable vehicle Robin had ever been in, but as Sarah said, they could sleep in it, if the cottage didn’t work out. It was a pain to drive, and most definitely had done more than the mileage counter suggested. With a canny understanding, Sarah bargained, and bought it for far less than its advertised figure. The oil-encrusted mechanic took the money with alacrity, stuffing it straight into his pocket, and Robin hoped the vehicle wasn’t stolen. At the very least, no tax for this transaction would hit the hollow government coffers.

  They rattled north, along the A1, watching everything bigger than a scooter overtake them impatiently. At Peterborough they bought camping equipment, a mattress and bedding, and enough supplies to last for several days.

  Google estimated four hours for the drive, but it took nearer six. Maybe Google didn’t account for the sheer numbers of vehicles on the road. But when they finally discovered the place, up a long track that almost proved too much for the van, they found a tiny stone cottage. Scouting the place out, they discovered it was in surprisingly good order. There was a half-full gas container for the small stove, but the electricity wasn’t connected.

  Robin tugged the mattress off the iron bedstead in the larger room. ‘Someone’s been keeping this place up together, but I think we’ll go with the clean one.’

  ‘Strange,’ she agreed. ‘After all these years. Maybe father put some sort of long-term maintenance plan in place, and it’s just been ticking over, earning someone a regular slice of income.’

  ‘We can’t check, of course,’ Robin said, ‘Because you burnt all his papers. But at least we won’t be sleeping in the van, and this is remote enough, and cosy, while we decide what to d
o.’

  ‘It’s nice, actually. I wonder why father did buy it?’ Sarah slumped on a wooden chair at the kitchen table. ‘I’m so, I don’t know, disorientated.’

  ‘Tired, I guess. It’s been a strange few days.’

  ‘Mentally, exhausted, anyway. I just don’t know what to think.’

  ‘Then don’t think.’ Robin clicked the starter on the stove, and it lit immediately. ‘Well, that was a surprise. Pour out a big glass of wine and heat up that pasta sauce, while I get the mattress and bedding in.’

  ‘Is there a TV here?’

  ‘I didn’t see one.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, my phone’s got access to the internet.’

  Robin froze. ‘You have a mobile, and it’s live?’

  ‘It’s switched off.’

  ‘Give it to me.’ He cracked it open, removed the sim card and held it to the flame. ‘The police could trace us through that.’

  ‘Could they? I don’t know why they’d want to.’

  ‘We’ll buy another sim when we go out.’ He stilled for a moment. ‘This is all a bit covert. We’re not overreacting, are we?’

  She shuddered. ‘If you’d been locked in that room for a week, with packaged food and a bucket, you wouldn’t think so.’

  ‘No, you’re right. But we’re safe here, for a while. In fact, I kind of like this place. Maybe we should stay here.’

  ‘If I can get Joel to settle down, see reason, maybe that’s not such a bad idea. But I have a nasty feeling he’d expect to live with us.’

  His dismay was echoed on her face.

  Chapter 41

  Freman, slumped into the corner, had half descended into a catatonic state, somewhere beyond pain or sleep, when he heard the external door slam. He jolted alert. At a guess he’d been locked in the cellar for ten to twelve hours. The taser was in his lap, pointing towards the door, finger on the trigger. His broken, swollen fingers made his whole hands unresponsive, but he was ready.