‘So why don’t you leave? You know, just walk away.’
‘McHayden won’t let me. She’s spying on my house. That’s why we’re here, Eva. It’s not safe and I didn’t know where else to go.’
‘Wait here,’ she said, ‘I’ll go wake Doug.’
14
After jumping a set of red lights, scraping a stationary vehicle and driving the wrong way up a one-way street, George eventually turned onto the road where the red dot had stopped and slammed on the brakes. Lance Asquith’s Volvo was parked up ahead, obviously abandoned, the left wheels resting on the curb. George thumped his fists on top of the steering wheel. A day that had promised so much was slipping into catastrophe.
He stared at the empty car for a forlorn minute, his mind blank, when all of a sudden he spotted the road sign: Mulberry Crescent. It took a moment to work out why this sounded familiar and then he cursed himself for being so stupid. Doug Bernstein, Eva’s father, owned a flat on Mulberry Crescent. It was the very same address to which he’d just instructed Marshall to dispatch an assault team.
Grateful that he’d made it there first, George climbed out of the car, went around to the boot and pulled out his trusty canvas bag. It appeared as though he’d been granted a reprieve.
15
On Christmas Eve, Lewis and his family prepared for the next day’s marathon of food and television by limbering up with a meal of microwave lasagne and chicken wings, eaten off their knees in front of Pierce Brosnan in Tomorrow Never Dies. After the film, Lewis helped Connor to hang up his stocking, then went back down to the lounge. His father was on the settee, one hand clutching a tin of lager and the other down the front of his tracksuit bottoms. The mess from supper remained piled on the floor by his feet.
‘Here, Your Majesty, let me,’ Lewis said, and scooped up the dirty plates.
‘Oi, you’re blocking the screen!’ his dad said, waving him away.
Lewis shuffled back with his head bowed. ‘So sorry to inconvenience you.’
‘I’ll inconvenience you and all in a minute, you cheeky little gobshite.’
As usual the kitchen bin was overflowing, making Lewis suspect that he was the only one who ever changed the bag. He stacked the plates by the sink, tugged the heaving sack out, tied a knot in the top and went to throw it in the wheelie bin outside. This meant passing back through the lounge, however, and between his father and the television screen.
‘Training for your future career, are you?’
‘What’s that?’ Lewis asked.
‘As a bin man. I hear they value relevant experience.’
‘Ha ha, very funny. You won’t be laughing when I’m a millionaire.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Lewis’s father drained the last swig of his beer, scrunched the can and handed it over. ‘I’ll be laughing my arse off. Here, stick this in the recycling while you’re out there.’
‘I’ll be laughing my arse off,’ Lewis muttered, mimicking his dad’s voice as he dragged the bin bag out through the front door. Their house was at the end of the terrace, meaning that there was an alley between it and the house to the left. Although both had slightly larger gardens than the other houses on the street, neither technically owned the alley and, over years of neglect, it had fallen into disrepair. When he was eight years old, Lewis had accidently disturbed a fox in the tangle of bushes at the far end, and as a result developed an irrational fear of both foxes and the alley that had lasted ever since.
A cold wind blew round the side of the house, shaking the bare branches of the overhanging trees and filling the alley with dancing shadows. Lewis shivered, wishing he’d stopped for his coat before stepping out. After lugging the bin bag to the alcove near the back, he placed it on the ground and opened the lid of the wheelie bin, but as he bent to pick up the bag again the plastic snagged on something sharp, ripping the bottom open and sending rubbish cascading over his shoes.
‘Brilliant!’ Lewis said, and shoved what remained of the bin bag into the wheelie bin. Briefly he considered leaving the fallen rubbish where it lay, but he could see a chicken bone in amongst the empty tin cans and mouldy banana peel, and foxes loved chicken. Probably.
Suddenly there was a rustling noise in the bushes a few feet away. Lewis froze, his sphincter clenching, and then a wood pigeon took flight from the branch of a tree. Breathing a sigh of relief, he bent to pick up an empty kitchen roll tube, but as he stood again the bushes quivered and a person-shaped object stepped out.
‘Who’s there?’ Lewis called, pointing the kitchen roll tube like a sword. ‘Don’t come any closer, I’ve got a…a…’
A tramp staggered towards him. The man’s long coat was a patchwork of stains. On one foot he wore a wellington boot and, on the other, an old, formerly white trainer with no laces.
Lewis flinched as the aroma of stale urine mingled with something suspiciously cheesy hit his nose. ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said, lowering his impromptu weapon. ‘I know it’s Christmas and all, but you can’t sleep here. There’s a homeless shelter just off the High Street—’
‘I’m not looking for a place to sleep, Lewis,’ the tramp said, speaking with an American accent.
‘Oh, that’s all right then. Hang on, how do you know my name?’
‘There’s no time to explain that now. They’ll be coming for you in five minutes.’
‘Who will?’
‘The Tempus Project.’
‘The people Sam’s working for? Why would they be coming for me?’
‘Like I said, there’s no time to explain.’ The tramp rummaged in his coat pocket for a second, then pulled out an envelope and a small glass container. ‘Here,’ he said, offering both to Lewis, ‘take these.’
* * * * *
Lewis read the letter twice before going back into the house. His dad remained slouched on the settee, now with a fresh can of beer in his hand.
‘What took you so long?’ he asked. ‘Get lost out there?’
‘You’re not going to believe what just happened,’ Lewis said. ‘There was a homeless person in the alley, hiding in the bushes at the back.’
His dad placed his beer on the coffee table and stood, hoisting the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms over his gut. ‘Hope you told him to clear off.’
‘I don’t think he wanted to sleep there, Dad. He gave me something and then said he had to go.’
‘Good God, boy! Are you soft in the head or something? They’ll tell you anything they think you want to hear just to—’
At that moment the television switched off and the lights went out.
Lewis just had time to hear his dad shout, ‘Bloody fuse!’ before the front door was blown off its hinges and what sounded like a herd of cattle stampeded into the house.
16
Doug was on the sofa next to Sam’s grandparents. His hair jutted from his head and his bare legs poked out of the bottom of his dressing gown.
‘You’ve put us all in danger by coming here,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sam said, ‘I didn’t want you involved in any of this, I just didn’t know who else I could turn to. They’ve got my house under surveillance. We had to get out of there.’
Doug stared at him for a moment, tight-lipped, then shook his head, put his hands on his hairy knees and heaved his large frame from the sofa. ‘Well, it’s too late, you’re here now.’
Chrissie disentangled herself from Lance’s arms. ‘So what do we do next?’
‘That’s a good question,’ Doug said. ‘It probably isn’t much safer here than back at your house.’
‘You mean they might’ve bugged this place too?’ Sam asked, instantly regretting everything he’d just told them.
Doug placed a big, bear-like paw on Sam’s shoulder. ‘Calm down, son. I had the security system installed by an old army pal. It’s state-of-the-art. Trust me, nobody’s getting in or out of here without me knowing.’ He dropped his arm to his side and turned to face the others. ‘We can get through this if we keep our heads. Now,
I need to know, do any of you have cell phones?’
Chrissie and Lance both nodded.
Sam reached down and felt the bulge of his phone through his pocket.
‘Switch them off right now,’ Doug said. ‘They can use the signal to track your position. Might as well leave them here, in fact. You won’t be able to use them again.’
One by one they switched their phones off, removed the batteries and lined them up on the table.
‘That’s a start,’ Doug said, placing his own lifeless phone at the end of the row. ‘But we’ve wasted enough time already. We need to leave.’
‘Where to?’ Eva asked.
‘We need to go underground, at least until I can find a way to get us out of the country. That means no phone calls, no credit cards, no record of where we go. Gerald, the Chairman of the bank, has a house in the Scottish Highlands. He’s on vacation in Barbados until January, so the place will be empty. It’s remote, plus he’s got hunting rifles and shotguns if we need to defend ourselves. We’ll have to drive overnight to reach it.’
‘I’m parked just outside,’ Lance said. ‘It’ll be a bit of a squeeze, but someone could always sit in the boot.’
Doug shook his head. ‘No, if they’re monitoring your house, they’ll know you’ve run by now, in which case there’ll already be an APB on your vehicle. You’ll have to leave it here.’
Lance gulped, obviously gutted at the prospect of abandoning his beloved car. ‘How are we going to get to Scotland then?’
‘We’ll have to steal a vehicle,’ Doug said. ‘Eva, Sam, you fetch some blankets and warm clothing from the cupboard in the spare room while I get dressed. Lance, Chrissie, can you pack up some food and bottled water from the kitchen?’
‘No problem,’ Chrissie said.
‘Good. And let’s be quick about this, I want to be on the road in five minutes.’
Sam followed Eva down the hall to one of the bedrooms at the back of the flat.
‘Don’t worry about Doug,’ she said, standing on a chair to reach the top shelf of the cupboard. ‘I think he just goes into army mode at the first sign of danger. I’m glad you came here.’
‘Really?’
‘I’m glad you came to me, I mean.’
‘Me too,’ he said.
She smiled and handed him a rolled sleeping bag. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I didn’t believe you earlier, it’s just…well, the whole thing’s pretty unbelievable.’
‘Trust me, I wouldn’t believe it myself if it wasn’t happening to me. The main thing is I know all of you are safe.’
‘In a few hours we’ll all be safe, Sam.’
He opened his mouth to say that he hoped she was right when there was an ear-splitting crash from the main room, followed by the sound of splintering wood.
17
George kicked in the door to the flat and, noting a floor lamp in the far corner identical to one he had at home, strode into the small but tastefully decorated lounge-cum-diner. Rayner’s grandparents, Alfred and Maureen, were sitting on a leather sofa, their already wrinkled faces creased even further by fear. Christina Rayner stood a couple of feet away with a bottle of mineral water in her hand, while Lance Asquith gawped at him from the kitchen.
George gauged their reactions with silent satisfaction until he realised that there was no sign of the boy. Suspecting it had all been a distraction, he drew his gun.
‘Sam, where is he?’
Christina took a step back. Before she could take another, George sprang forward, caught her by the throat, twisted her around and pulled her close to his body. At that moment Rayner emerged from a corridor at the rear of the flat with Eva Bernstein in tow. He stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth hanging open like a broken gate.
George smiled. ‘Attempting to run was a mistake but one I understand, given the circumstances. This need not get any more unpleasant if you come with me now.’ As he raised the gun to the side of her head, Christina let out a small whimper. ‘This is your last chance, Sam. Come now or she dies.’
18
The only option was for Sam to give himself up. He took a step towards Steele and Chrissie. Eva tried to pull him back, but he shrugged her away.
‘I’m coming,’ he said. ‘Please, just let her go.’
Steele snarled and tightened his grip around Chrissie’s neck. ‘You must think I was born yesterday. She’s coming too.’
‘Please,’ Sam said, ‘I’ll do whatever you say.’ Out of the corner his eye, he noticed Lance with a crazed, almost inhuman look on his face, like he might burst from the pressure building inside him. Sam realised what he was about to do a moment too late. ‘Lance, no!’
Lance launched himself at Steele. Chrissie screamed as he flew through the air. Steele loosened his grip around her neck and turned the gun on Lance. There was a dull clunk and the ceramic shade of the lamp next to the sofa exploded. Lance caught Steele’s gun arm with both hands and the three of them fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. There were two more clunks in rapid succession, then Steele was clambering to his feet. Lance tried to rise with him, but Steele brought the butt of the gun down on top of his head and he crumpled over Chrissie.
Steele straightened up. Lance’s hand still clung loosely to his trouser leg. He kicked it away and pointed the gun at Sam. ‘I’ve warned you already, there are consequences for…’
They both seemed to notice the red circle staining Steele’s crisp, white shirt at the same moment.
‘You’re hurt,’ Sam said.
Steele prodded the area with his fingertip, oblivious to Doug emerging from the bedroom with a metal baseball bat in his hands.
‘Not me―’ he began, his face expressionless.
Before he could finish, Doug swung the bat. It struck the back of Steele’s skull with a gratifying crack and he toppled forwards, taking out a potted plant on his way down.
19
Sam rushed over and dropped to his knees. Chrissie was lying on her back with Lance slumped over her. Sam rolled him off. Blood flowed freely from a wound under Lance’s hair. He groaned and sat up, his head in his hands.
‘Are you all right?’ Sam asked.
‘Forget me,’ Lance mumbled. ‘Chrissie.’
Sam turned to his sister. She hadn’t moved since she, Lance and Steele had fallen to the floor. Her hands were crossed over her stomach. Blood oozed between her fingers, pooling by her side on the wooden floor.
‘Chrissie,’ he said, and slid a hand under her head, tilting it up. Her eyelids fluttered open. She moved her lips to speak, but blood bubbled from her mouth, discolouring her teeth.
Lance elbowed Sam out of the way. With his back arched, he cradled Chrissie’s head in his lap and stroked her hair. When he looked up again, tears flooded his cheeks, mixing with the blood pouring from the cut on his head.
‘Don’t just stand there,’ he said. ‘Call an ambulance. Someone call an ambulance now!’
20
Sam hardly noticed Eva scurry to the house phone and snatch up the handset. The world narrowed around his sister. The others were speaking, shouting, but it was as if he was hearing them from a different room.
‘It’s okay, babe,’ Lance was saying. ‘Just hang in there, everything’s going to be all right.’
Chrissie’s chest heaved as she sucked in a rasping breath. She coughed and spluttered, blood spraying through the air. ‘No…’ she said, ‘…too late.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Lance said. ‘Help’s on the way.’
She tried to smile, her eyes flicking between Lance and Sam. ‘I love you both, you know that.’ She coughed again, more blood rising from her mouth. ‘Sam, you can change all this, can’t you? Make things different, make it…’
Then her eyes closed and her head flopped to one side.
‘No!’ Lance cried and buried his face in her blood-soaked cardigan. Sam stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. Lance lifted his head again and stared up. ‘She was pregnant, you know. We were going to have a baby.�
��
Sam turned his back. The same numb emptiness he’d felt upon hearing of his father’s death had returned, eating through him like rot. Steele was lying a few feet away, face down, his gun by his side. Sam picked it up, rolled the unconscious man over with his foot. Pointing the gun at Steele’s head, he squeezed the trigger.
21
A cloud of dust puffed from a spot on the floor an inch to the right of Steele’s ear. Sam aimed again and prepared to fire, knowing he wouldn’t miss a second time.
‘You don’t want to do that,’ Doug said, suddenly by his side. He placed a hand on the barrel of the gun, pushing it down.
‘He killed my sister,’ Sam said.
‘I know, but trust me, this isn’t the answer.’
All at once the gun felt impossibly heavy. As it slipped from Sam’s fingers, Doug caught it and tucked it into the back of his trousers.
‘It would make me feel better,’ Sam said.
‘Maybe at first, but not in the long run.’ Doug placed both hands on Sam’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. ‘Killing him won’t bring Chrissie back.’
Sam sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. ‘No, you’re right,’ he said. ‘Only I can do that.’
Chapter VII
End Game
1
December 1994
As Lara climbed the steps to Judy Barclay’s Santa Barbara home, she paused to absorb the memory of climbing the very same steps a quarter of a century earlier. Although the paintwork was flaking and the palm tree by the front gate had grown exponentially, little about the external appearance of house had changed over the intervening years. Regrettably, cosmetics and wishful thinking were insufficient in convincing Lara that the same could be said for her.
Judy opened the door clutching a Zimmer frame. She peered at Lara with misty, cataract-clouded eyes before her face broke into a smile of recognition. ‘Lara! How are you? Come in, please, come in out of the cold.’
The Pages of Time Page 24