The vast eyelid fluttered open.
Hal gave a single throat-tearing shriek. He was bathed in a flaring, scorching blast of blue-white light that burnt the world around him to incandescent glare and shadow and sprayed agony like molten silver through his veins. The bones shone through the arm thrown over his eyes, and he felt the flesh begin to melt and strip away. The last shreds of strength and instinct sent him diving for cover, any cover that would shield him from that searing glance an instant longer. Back among the leaves he plunged –
And fell through. There was nothing beneath him, no branch. He scrabbled frantically, twigs lashed his blistered face, and then there was only empty air and a slow, sickening tumble. A whirling, dizzying landscape wheeled around him: leaves, branches, the vast trunk rising out of cloud, a dim, distant mountain horizon, a tall bank of stormcloud climbing above it, the last hollowness of final failure, absolute defeat. He had climbed, he had fallen, and all that he cared for fell to ruin with him, with a message that now, at the long end, he could never deliver.
The wind roared around him. Sheet lightning lanced across the horizon, a thunderclap came rolling and crashing out of limitless distance to shiver the very air around him –
I needed no message.
The wind came seething up under him, slowing the spin, slackening the fall until he seemed to be almost floating level with the tower of cloud. Lightning flared red-white within it, casting sharp shadows onto the mountains beneath. And in the glare he saw a glint of eyes, the shadowed outline of a face – one he knew, recognised, and yet struggled to name –
It was the messenger I had to have. I send no thralls to fight my battles. What is freedom, if they who fight for it do not have it? And once men called me their friend …
The cloud filled the sky above him, blotting out mountain and tree alike. With a last fragmenting crash, barbed light leapt out of the heart of it and came hammering down into him, shattering, reshaping. The last image was of his own body glowing like molten gold, and above it that face, so enigmatic, that he knew and did not know –
The face was his own.
Darkness.
CHAPTER TEN
SLOWLY, SULLENLY, light returned to a world of winter. The sky resolved into streaks of grey, dappled with relentless snow. A grey plain crept out of darkness, scattered with bare, frost-blackened trees. The howling winds were still, but no sound had come to take their place; over the fields hung the uneasy silence of a dream. Then over the rim of a low hill erupted a roaring plume of snow. The roar grew higher, louder, and a snowdrift leaped skyward in one immense fountain as the snowfan crested the hill and went jolting and slithering on down the Oddsness road. Behind it, engine whining, came a Land Rover in police livery, skidding through the narrow furrow cut by the fan.
‘ ’E’s doing it on purpose!’ grumbled Harshaw as the Land Rover swerved into the side of the road for the third time.
‘Just keep back from him,’ said Ridley. ‘Not his fault if the corporation use excavators instead of proper tracked vehicles. He can’t help skidding any more than you can.’
‘Nearly took me ’ead off wi’ that ruddy back bucket!’
‘Not his fault either. He has to keep it stuck out to counterbalance the weight of that bloody great fan contraption on the front. Just keep your distance.’ Ridley glanced back at Jess, hunched in mute misery on the back seat. ‘Snow looks a bit thinner out here,’ he lied. ‘Might’ve had a better chance.’
She shook her head. Her last hope had been the little houses and the church at Oddsness – but no one there had seen or heard of Hal. Now she could only pray that nothing worse than snow had overtaken him. The animal howl of the snowfan rang through her head, flaying the dead skin off the road, laying its black bones bare. She stared numbly out at the unchanging landscape that flowed past the side window, the strips of pale snow and dark sky framing a thin, black line of sea. Only the sea had a trace of motion – and something against it like the swoop of a dark bird …
‘Stop! Please! Over there! He’s over there!’ Harshaw’s broad shoulders jerked at the cry, and the Land Rover’s brakes locked. It skidded and spun, barely missing the excavator’s bucket as it settled into the heavy roadside drift and the shallow ditch beneath. Ridley swung around and grabbed her shoulders, expecting shrieking hysteria, but her face was alive with relief and hope, and as he too looked towards the cliff edge his hands and his jaw dropped. He made a grab for the side door, but Jess, clambering over the protesting Harshaw, was already out and bounding towards the approaching figure. ‘Hal! Oh God, Hal!’
Then she slowed, faltered, stopped. Ridley, stumping after her, saw her put a hand to her mouth. ‘Hal?’
Tall, dark, lion-maned, the approaching figure waved almost casually, without changing his brisk step. There was no sign of exhaustion, of a winter night spent unprotected in the open. Ridley found his hand straying to the pistol in his overcoat pocket as the man’s confident, energetic stride brought him across the buried road and right up to Jess. He scooped her up effortlessly in a wide embrace that carried her back to where Ridley was standing, landed an immense, smacking kiss on her cheek, and burst out laughing. ‘Hej, kaereste! Glad to see me?’ Jess stared wildly. His clothes were soaked, soiled and tom, his hair and beard dishevelled and windblown, yet he positively glowed with health and good humour – even his tan seemed deeper, the fire-gold glint in his hair more intense. Then she lost control altogether and sank sobbing onto his chest. He seemed to be holding her quite lightly, but Ridley noticed that her feet were off the ground. The inspector blinked.
‘Well, Prof? Good to see you looking so chipper. Being brutally honest, I never expected to see you at all.’
Hal laughed. ‘Nor did I! I tried for Oddsness on foot, and had some bad times blundering about on the cliff. But I am only sorry to drag you all out after me.’
‘No problem. Had to get through to Oddsness, anyway – make sure they’d had no trouble last night. Speaking of which –’
‘Oh, they were hunting me, yes.’
‘And you gave ’em the slip? Where d’you go?’
‘The beach. And a cave – a crevice. I am not quite sure. It was a little harrowing.’
‘Doesn’t seem to have done you much harm. You look in incredible shape.’
Hal shrugged. ‘Mostly it is not being worried any more.’
‘Wish I wasn’t. Hell of a night. First Jess was attacked –’
‘Jay? Yes, of course.’
Jess looked up wildly. ‘You knew? How?’
‘The draugar prey on their own.’
‘Oh great,’ said Ridley savagely. ‘We’ve just spent all bloody night trying to find out little things like that. Why the hell couldn’t you tell us straight out?’
‘There was much I did not know, or could not remember. Not then.’
Jess ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Anyway, we found out more – things you don’t know.’
‘About Hrafn Rimkonungr and Aud? Do not be too sure.’
‘But – but you never …’
‘Never got to the church? The answer was not there. I will tell you more when I have had something to eat. A great deal to eat.’ He turned towards the car.
Ridley caught his arm. ‘Hey, hold on there –’
‘Later, I said. There is anyway nothing you can do.’ He grinned down at Jess and patted her bottom playfully. ‘Come, kaereste, time to go home.’
She bridled and pulled herself away from him. ‘Hal – what’s happened to you? Really happened? Why’re you so …?’
His face hardened. ‘I am what I am. Later you will know. You have never quite trusted me, not really. It’s time you began – now.’
‘I – I never quite …’
‘Oh, I cannot blame you. I never trusted myself.’ He strode past her to the car, a light hand on her arm. When she resisted it he let her go without a backward look.
She stood staring after him, fighting for words. ‘Insp – uh, Inspe
c … is that Hal?’
‘You tell me,’ growled Ridley. ‘But I’m not letting him out of my sight, till I’m sure. And – Christ!’ Jess started, followed his glance back the way Hal had come. His footprints led from a dark patch near the cliff edge – not a rock, as she had thought, but a wide circle of bright green grass, quite bare of snow, with an old, dead tree trunk at its centre. There were no tracks anywhere else at all.
The meal at the Two Ravens was a strange, strained affair for everyone except Hal, who merrily wolfed down everything that was put in front of him. Neville had come bouncing out into the chilly street to meet them, delighted to see Hal alive. By the end of the meal he was silent and wary. So was Jess. This tall, magisterial stranger had none of the doubts and quirks of the Hal she knew. In the car, his arm had been gentle on her shoulders – but too gentle, as though it could crush her like an eggshell. She had never known how strong he was. In love, in bed, she had fought him but he had never fought her. He had always been too controlled, too caring. And now – he still cared, but it had changed, as if he looked down at her from some enormous height. The thought grew inside her, harder and harder to keep down, like a scream swelling in her throat. Say it, somebody! That isn’t Hal!
And then the tall figure sighed, sat back, smiled – and suddenly, astonishingly, it was Hal. ‘I am sorry for my rudeness. I must have been burning much food last night. That cold – Fanden i helved!’
She could see the relaxation that spread around the table, tired backs slumping in welcome relief. Ridley smiled. ‘Too right, Prof. Those stupid buggers in the mobile HQ nearly got themselves frozen in last night.’
‘Made it, did they?’ asked Harry solicitously.
‘So I hear.’
‘Pity.’
‘Now listen, Hardwicke …’
‘You will excuse me a moment,’ said Hal. He got up and headed for the toilets.
‘Mind you,’ admitted Ridley, ‘with them heading the official investigation I’m left free to deal with what’s really going on. But I need help. Up to a point I can use my own lads – sorry, Jess! – under cover of rousting out poor old Colby. But I can’t use them for the real hunt, after this precious pair. I can only rely on you folk, who know – who’ve seen. I can’t make you help – but I hope and pray you will.’
‘Yes!’ barked Jess.
‘These Murder Squad boys got guns?’ asked Neville.
‘Hm? Oh, aye – every officer with firearms training, as of yesterday. And I see what you’re getting at. In emergency we can request help from members of the public who – er – just happen to have guns.’ He gave Harry a hard look. ‘Properly licensed, of course. Or certified, for shot-guns.’
Harry looked hurt. ‘ ’Course they are. ’Cept for me poor old twelve-bore as wouldn’t ’it a bam at twenty paces –’
‘Because you’ve been using it to fire musket balls at sleeping pheasants. Off the record, haul it out. Good manstopper at close range. Could finish the pair of them.’
Neville shook his head. ‘You’re forgetting, they’ll have a couple of recruits still. Don’t reckon on guns alone. Garlic and crucifixes, more like. Or whatever’d scare draugar. Jess?’
‘Don’t ask me, ask Hal. Hal? Where is he?’
Ridley was already striding towards the door marked with a man’s silhouette. He hurled it open with a crash, swore, and let it sink back on its cushioning spring. ‘Went through the other door – to the saloon bar. Which just happens to be closed, so he had a clear route out. I bloody knew there was something off about –’
A shrill ringing cut him short. For a frozen moment everyone stared at the payphone on the wall, then Jess dived across the room and caught the receiver out of Ridley’s hand. ‘Hal? Hal, where –’ Ridley heard the pay-phone tones, then the crackle of a voice, but he couldn’t make out the words. Her hand clenched hard. ‘Look, if this is dangerous I have a right to share it. Okay? Or don’t I mean enough to you? Goddammit, Hal, you talk about trust –’ She stopped, listened, her face twisting with frustration. ‘Hal! Wait!’
Too late. He saw her face harden as the line went dead. She slammed the receiver back and swung to face him. ‘Reckons he’s got it all worked out. Has to handle it alone, he says. Okay so it’s dangerous but we’re all in danger anyhow and we’d only make things worse, so he’ll see us tomorrow a.m. … And that’s all! Just like that!’
‘Like ’ell,’ said Neville softly.
‘Like fuck!’ said Harry, not at all softly.
‘I can’t believe Hal would expect us to do nothing,’ said Ridley, ‘especially after last night. Not normally. And you feel the same way, Jess.’
‘I – don’t know. A minute ago, yes – I was so goddam angry – but now … That isn’t my Hal, the one I know, but he’s still … Damn, I don’t have the words! It’s like he’s wearing a mask or – like someone’s with him. But he makes me want to believe him!’
‘If ’e’s changed then we can’t trust ’im,’ said Neville coldly. ‘An’ I wouldn’t take that from ’im anyway.’
‘ ’E’s right,’ said Harry.
‘But – but maybe he’s got something planned!’ stammered Jess. ‘An ambush or something! If we just charge in with a posse of cops we could ruin everything!’
‘Good point, in its way,’ said Ridley quietly, ‘but can we afford to trust him blindly, Jess? We need to know more before we make up our minds. Right? He should have told us – would have told us, if this was the Hal we know. Just the same, you’re right about not charging in, so how’s this? We – just the four of us – find him, follow him, watch him till we know what’s going down, and only mix in or call for help if anything’s wrong or he’s in real danger. How’s that sound?’
The men nodded at once. Jess hesitated, then nodded an uneasy agreement. ‘Okay, you win. But how’ll we find him?’
‘Ask a policeman,’ said Ridley, pulling out his walkie-talkie. ‘Control? Ridley. General alert for tall man, red hair and beard, in town area or outskirts, may be trying to move around unobserved – Professor Hansen. Most of you know him by sight. Do not, repeat not, approach or obstruct him. Just report time, location, and direction of movement, if any. Got that?’
‘Control,’ said Harshaw’s voice. ‘Knew there was summat screwy about ’im.’
‘Aye, well, keep it to yourself, Bill. And get WPC Macauley to break out some more emergency gear – parkas, skis, and that. Kit for five, and spares. Be down later to pick ’em up. Ridley out.’
He turned to the others. ‘Any of you ever skied?’
‘Three seasons in Aspen, and some cross-country in Canada,’ said Jess cheerfully. ‘Won a couple of races.’
‘Ah,’ said Ridley. ‘Police course and a couple of weekends at Aviemore, that’s my lot. Harry? Neville?’
Harry grimaced. ‘Me? Never. Sooner walk.’
‘No chance, lad,’ said Neville. ‘We might need to ’op it fast, and your short fat ’airy legs make lousy snowshoes. I’ve done a bit. I’ll see you right.’
‘Right then,’ said Ridley. ‘I’ll lay on a car, supplies – and your snowfan, Harry. That leaves weapons – Harry’s twelve-bore –’
‘Neville can ’ave me little four-ten, folding. Could find summat for Jess, too –’
‘Not me. I hate guns.’
‘You’ve got to have something!’
‘There’s big heavy mattocks in the dig store, pickaxe one side, spade-blade the other. Reckon one could take somebody’s head off, easy.’
‘Better than Ridley’s ruddy little cap pistol, any’ow!’
‘Aye. That’s why I’m taking the Greener riot gun.’
‘You what?’
‘Magazine loading, huge charges, stop a ruddy elephant. Souvenir of somebody’s time with the Hong Kong riot squad; it’s been lying around our armoury for years.’
‘More likely you capitalist lackeys laid it in for t’miner’s strike pickets! Well, ’appen t’workers learnt a thing or two then – like makin�
�� petrol bombs, for a start. I ’ear these boogers don’t like a nice cosy fire, eh?’
‘Harry, I didn’t hear a word,’ sighed Ridley. ‘Just for the love of God don’t smoke, that’s all.’
The Land Rover flashed its headlamps. For an instant the grimy yellow bulk of the snowfan stood out in the gloom, but it was already slithering to a halt, and Ridley had to pull in sharply behind it. He switched off the engine, and a sudden silence fell. ‘Right. We’re here.’
‘You sure ’bout this?’ grunted Neville.
‘Two sightings – one patrol, one beat man. Both reckoned he was headed this way. I’m sure enough.’
Nobody seemed in any hurry to move. They sat staring out into the blackness outside, where tall shadow-shapes hissed and tossed in the chill wind – the trees along the outer wall of the Fern Farm estate. An endless moment of taut silence was abruptly broken by a sharp rap at the rear window. Harry wrenched the door open, muttering ‘Jesus! Bloody brass monkeys!’ and tried to scramble in. Thwarted by the pile of equipment in the back, he flung the door as wide as he could and started to haul it out into the snow. ‘C’mon, c’mon, get yer fingers out! We’ve a job to do.’
It was the spur they needed. Jess, pale and large-eyed, swung herself out of the high front seat while Neville scrambled out of the back, pulling up his parka hood over his usual pork-pie hat and cursing as the inrushing cold air bit at his nose. Ridley was stacking the guns and Jess’s mattock ready against the Land Rover’s flank. Jess fussed for a moment over Harry’s ski-boots, showing him how to clamp them onto the skis; Neville was already testing out his on the new snow near the turn-off to the temple site. She gave him a curiously quirky smile. ‘That little spot of skiing – sport, or cross-country?’
‘Mostly cross-country, love.’
‘Where? Scotland?’
‘Norway.’
‘Ee,’ said Harry, ‘I didn’t know you’d been there, Nev. Good place for a holiday, were it?’
‘Might’ve been. I was freezing me balls off on winter exercises wi’ the Territorials.’
‘Since when,’ said Ridley, ‘do they send reservists out to Norway?’
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