The Doomsday Prophecy

by Scott Mariani

  She whooped. She’d made it.

  But then she looked back in the mirror and saw the figures in the lights of the stationary car. Figures running. Figures with guns.

  There was a loud crack from behind her. She felt the machine judder violently. The rear tyre was blown.

  She lost control of the bike, and suddenly it had slipped out from under her. She felt herself falling. The ground rushed up to meet her.

  That was all Zoë Bradbury remembered for a long time.

  Chapter Four

  Thames Ditton, Surrey, England

  The second day

  The high gilded gates were open, and Ben Hope drove on through the archway. The private road carved its way through a long woodland tunnel, cool and verdant in the heat of the afternoon. Round a bend, the trees parted and he saw the late-Georgian country house in the distance, across sculpted lawns that looked like velvet. Gravel crunched under the tyres of the rented Audi Quattro as he pulled up in the car-park alongside the Bentleys and Rollses and Jaguars.

  Stepping out of the car Ben straightened his tie and slipped on the jacket of the expensive suit he’d bought for the occasion and was pretty sure he’d never wear again. He could hear the sound of the big band drifting on the breeze. He followed the sound, cutting across the lawns towards the back of the house. The sweeping acres of the estate opened up in front of him.

  Guests were clustered around a striped marquee on the lawn. Laughter and chatter. Long tables with canapés, waiters carrying trays of drinks. Women in summer dresses and big flowery hats. The wedding reception was a lot more opulent than Ben had expected.

  Charlie had done well for himself, he thought. Not bad for the practical, down-to-earth Londoner who’d started out driving supply trucks with the Royal Engineers. He’d been in the service since leaving school. In 22 SAS he’d never gone higher than trooper. Never wanted to. His only ambition was to be the best. It was strange to imagine him marrying into wealth. Ben wondered if he’d be happy surrounded by all this.

  Charlie and his new bride were among the dancing couples on the lawn. Ben smiled as he recognised him. He didn’t seem to have changed a lot, apart from the tuxedo. The band had struck up an old jazz number he vaguely remembered, Glenn Miller or Benny Goodman. Their trombones and saxes glittered in the sunshine.

  Ben kept his distance, stood listening to the music and watching the people, taking in the scene. Thoughts came back to him of the day he’d got married, just a few months before. His hand instinctively went to the gold wedding ring that he wore on a thin leather thong around his neck. He fingered it through the cotton shirt, trying to stop the other memories that bubbled up, the bad ones, the ones of the day it had all ended.

  For an instant he was there again, seeing it unfold. He blinked the images away, battled them back into the shadows. He knew they’d return.

  The dance ended. There was applause and more laughter. Charlie spotted Ben and waved. He kissed his bride and she went off with a chattering bunch of friends towards the marquee as the band started up another number. Charlie trotted over to Ben, visibly buzzing with excitement, unable to repress the broad grin on his face.

  ‘You look a little different in that outfit,’ Ben said.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d come, sir. Glad you could make it. I’ve been calling you for days.’

  ‘I got your message,’ Ben said. ‘And it’s Ben, not sir.’

  ‘It’s good to see you, Ben.’

  ‘Good to see you too.’ Ben clapped Charlie affectionately on the shoulder.

  ‘So how’ve you been?’ Charlie asked. ‘How are things?’

  ‘It’s been a while,’ Ben replied, evading the question.

  ‘Five years, give or take.’

  ‘Congratulations on your marriage. I’m pleased for you.’

  ‘Thanks. We’re very happy.’

  ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’

  ‘This?’ Charlie swept his arm across the horizon, at the house and the neatly tended acres. ‘You must be kidding. This belongs to Rhonda’s folks. They’re the ones paying for this do. You know how it is – only daughter and all. A bit over the top, between us. All about flaunting their money. If it was up to Rhonda and me, it would have been the local registry office and then off to the nearest pub.’ He smiled warmly. ‘So what about you, Ben? Did you ever take the plunge?’

  ‘Plunge?’

  ‘You know – normal life, marriage, kids, all that kind of stuff.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ben hesitated. What the hell. There was no point pretending. ‘I did get married,’ he said quietly.

  Charlie’s eyes lit up. ‘Great, man. Fantastic. When did that happen?’

  Ben paused again. ‘January.’

  Charlie looked around. ‘Have you brought her with you?’

  ‘She’s not here,’ Ben said.

  ‘That’s a real shame,’ Charlie said, disappointed. ‘I’d love to meet her.’

  ‘She’s gone,’ Ben said.

  Charlie frowned, confused. ‘You mean she was here, but she left?’

  ‘No. I mean she’s dead.’ It came out more abruptly than Ben had meant. Still hard to say it.

  Charlie blanched. He looked down at his feet and was quiet for a few seconds. ‘When?’ he breathed.

  ‘Five months ago. Not long after we married.’

  ‘Jesus. I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘You don’t have to say anything.’

  ‘How are you?’ Charlie said awkwardly. ‘I mean, how are you handling it?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘I have good days and bad days.’ The cold touch of the Browning’s muzzle against his brow was still a fresh memory.

  ‘What happened?’ Charlie asked after another long silence.

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’

  Charlie looked pained. ‘Let me get you a drink. Shit, this is terrible. I was going to ask you something, but now I don’t –’

  ‘It’s fine. Ask. What is it?’

  ‘Let’s talk in private. See if we can find somewhere quiet.’

  Ben followed him across the lawn to the marquee, through the crowds of people talking and sipping champagne. ‘A lot of guests,’ he commented.

  ‘Mostly Rhonda’s side,’ Charlie said. ‘I hardly know anybody, outside of the regiment. And Rhonda didn’t want army people here.’ He rolled his eyes.

  ‘That’s your brother over there, isn’t it?’

  Charlie stared at him in amazement. ‘It must be seven years since you last saw Vince. And he doesn’t even look anything like me. How the hell did you recognise him?’

  ‘I never forget a face,’ Ben said with a smile.

  ‘You certainly don’t.’

  By the marquee, a waiter was offering drinks from a silver tray on a table. He handed Ben and Charlie a glass of champagne each.

  Ben shook his head and pointed. ‘The bottle.’

  The waiter stared for a second, then set down the glasses, took a fresh bottle from the ice and passed it over. Ben grabbed it with one hand and scooped up a couple of crystal champagne flutes with the other. He and Charlie walked away from the throng and the chatter. He sensed that Charlie didn’t want anyone listening to what he had to say.

  They sat on the steps of a gazebo, a little way from the reception. Ben popped open the bottle and poured them each a glass.

  ‘You’re sure you’re OK with this?’ Charlie said nervously. ‘I mean, under the circumstances –’

  Ben handed him a glass and took a long drink from his own. ‘I’m listening,’ he said. ‘Go ahead.’

  Charlie nodded. He took a deep breath and then came straight out with it. ‘I’ve got some problems, Ben.’

  ‘What kind of problems?’

  ‘Nothing like that,’ Charlie said, catching his look. ‘Like I said, Rhonda and I are happy together, everything’s cool in that department.’

  ‘So is it money?’

  In the distance, the band started up a version of String of Pearls.r />
  Charlie made a resigned gesture. ‘What else? I’m out of work.’

  ‘You left the regiment?’

  ‘Just over a year ago. Fourteen months. Rhonda wanted me out. She was scared I’d get myself killed in Afghanistan or somewhere.’

  ‘That’s fairly understandable.’

  ‘Well, it nearly did happen. More than once. So, what the hell, it’s civvy street for me now. Problem is, I’m no damn use in it. I can’t hold down a job. I’ve had four since I left.’

  ‘It’s a common problem,’ Ben said. ‘Hard to adapt, after the things we’ve seen and done.’

  Charlie took a long drink of champagne. Ben reached for the bottle and topped up his glass. ‘We bought a house a while ago,’ Charlie went on. ‘Just a small place, but you know what property prices are, and this is hardly the cheapest part of the country. Even a bloody cottage is worth half a mil these days. Rhonda’s folks put up a deposit for us as an engagement gift, but we still can hardly keep up with the mortgage payments. It’s killing me. I’m just drowning. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

  ‘What about Rhonda? Does she work?’

  ‘For an aid charity. It doesn’t pay much.’

  ‘Plenty of desk jobs in the army. Why don’t you apply?’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘They’d go crazy if I went anywhere near that again. Scared I’d be tempted back into active service. God knows I probably would be, too. Rhonda’s dad made his money selling mobile ringtones. Wants me to go and work for him. He’s putting a lot of pressure on me. The whole family is. I mean, fucking ringtones. Can you imagine?’

  Ben smiled. ‘Maybe you should go for it. Sounds cushy – and lucrative. And safer than getting shot at.’

  ‘I wouldn’t last long,’ Charlie said. ‘It would put a strain on the marriage.’ He took another long gulp of champagne.

  ‘I didn’t bring you a wedding present,’ Ben said. ‘If it’ll help, I can give you some money instead. I could write you a cheque today.’

  ‘No way. That’s not what I want.’

  ‘Then you could consider it a loan. Until you get on your feet.’

  ‘No. I wanted to ask you something else.’

  Ben nodded. ‘I think I know what. You want to ask me about working together.’

  Charlie let out a long sigh. ‘OK, I’ll be frank with you. How is the kidnap and ransom business doing these days?’

  ‘Better than ever,’ Ben said. ‘Snatching people and holding them for ransom is a growth industry.’

  ‘I was talking about your end of the business.’

  ‘There’s always call for people like me,’ Ben said. ‘Involving the police is nearly always a bad move. K and R insurance agents and most of the official negotiators are just nerds in suits. People in trouble need an extra option.’

  ‘And you’re it.’

  ‘And you want to be part of it?’

  ‘You know I’d be good,’ Charlie said. ‘But I can’t just set up on my own. I don’t know anything about it. I’d need some training. You’re the best teacher I ever had. If I was going into something like that, I’d want to work for you.’

  ‘From what you tell me, I don’t think your new family would approve.’

  ‘I’d tell them I was a security consultant. It can’t be as dangerous as what we’ve seen in the regiment, can it?’

  Ben said nothing. Both their glasses were empty, and the sun was beating down. He poured out the last of the champagne and set the bottle down with a heavy clunk of glass on concrete. ‘Problem is, I can’t help you,’ he said. ‘If I could, I would. But I’m out. Retired. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Retired? Really?’

  Ben nodded. It had been his promise to her, the day she’d said she would marry him. ‘Since the end of last year. It’s all over for me.’

  Charlie sank back against the steps of the gazebo, deflating. ‘You have any contacts?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘I never did. I always worked alone. Everything was strictly word of mouth.’ He finished his drink. ‘Like I said. If it’s money I can help.’

  ‘I can’t take money from you,’ Charlie said. ‘Rhonda can ask her folks to bail us out any time, and they probably would. But we see this as our responsibility. Our problem. We need to deal with it ourselves. I was just hoping –’

  ‘I’m sorry. There’s really no way.’

  Charlie grimaced with disappointment. ‘But if you hear of anything going, you’ll let me know?’

  ‘I would, but it won’t happen. I told you, I’m out of it.’

  Charlie sighed again. ‘I’m sorry I brought this up.’ He paused a long time, watching the people dancing and having fun in the distance. ‘So what are you going to do next?’

  ‘I’m going back to Oxford. I’m heading there right after this. I’ve already rented a flat there.’

  ‘What’s in Oxford?’

  ‘The University,’ Ben said. ‘I’m going there to study.’

  ‘You, a student? To do what?’

  ‘To finish what I started before I went crazy and joined the army almost twenty years ago. Theology.’

  Charlie’s eyes opened wide. ‘Theology? You want to be a priest?’

  Ben smiled. ‘Reverend. Once upon a time, that’s all I wanted to be. Seemed like the perfect life.’

  ‘So you went off to war instead. Makes sense.’

  ‘Sometimes things don’t work out the way you think,’ Ben said. ‘It just happened that way. Now I’ve come full circle. The time is right for me. They let me back in to finish my course. One year to go, then I can start thinking about entering the Church, just like I’d planned years ago.’ He slapped his hands on his knees. ‘So that’s it.’

  Charlie was staring at him in disbelief. ‘You’re kidding me. You’re winding me up.’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘This just doesn’t seem like you. I still have this image of you – that time with the tank, in the desert? We were pinned under fire, you only had three rounds left. I’ve never seen anything like it. Guys in the regiment, guys who never met you, still talk about it –’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to talk about it,’ Ben said, cutting him off. ‘Whatever I did in the past, whatever I was or wanted to be, that’s finished. I’m tired, Charlie. I’m thirty-eight years old and all I’ve ever known is violence and killing. I want a life of peace.’

  ‘A dog collar and a little cottage, with a Bible in your hand.’

  Ben nodded. ‘That’s it. About as far away from the past as I can get.’

  ‘I can’t see it.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll surprise you.’

  ‘I should have waited a while,’ Charlie said. He laughed. ‘You could have married us.’

  They hadn’t noticed Rhonda striding across the lawn towards them. They stood up as she approached. She was tall and slender, with reddish hair that looked as though she’d coloured it with henna. She had a stud in her nose. A bohemian kind of look that contrasted with the high heels and the expensive dress she was wearing. She was pretty, but Ben thought he could see a hardened look behind the eyes. There was suspicion in them as Charlie introduced her to him.

  ‘Heard all about you,’ she said, looking him up and down. ‘Major Benedict Hope. The wild one. I know all the stories. Really impressed.’

  ‘I’m not Major Hope. I’m just Ben. Forget the stories.’

  ‘Well, Ben, I suppose you’re here to talk my husband into joining you on some –’

  ‘I invited him here,’ Charlie said. ‘Remember?’

  She looked up hotly at Ben. ‘I don’t want him getting mixed up in anything dangerous.’

  ‘I’m the last person who would get him into any kind of danger,’ Ben said. ‘You can trust me on that.’

  She snorted. ‘Yeah, right. Now, can I have my husband back, please? And someone over there wants to meet you.’

  Ben followed the direction of her pointing finger and his gaze landed on a stunningly attractive woman standing over by
the marquee. She was waving coyly, smiling in their direction.

  ‘That’s Mandy Latham,’ Rhonda said. ‘Her parents own half of Shropshire. Deliciously nouveau riche – even worse than my lot. Winters at Verbier, drives a Lambo. She’s been asking me who the gorgeous, tall, blond, blue-eyed guy with Charlie is.’

  ‘He’s going to be a priest,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Why don’t you go and ask her to dance?’ Rhonda snapped at Ben.

  ‘Rhonda –,’ Charlie started.

  ‘I don’t dance,’ Ben said. He smiled at Charlie. ‘Nice party. See you around.’ He walked away.

  ‘You’ll phone me, then?’ Charlie called after him.

  Ben didn’t answer him. He made his way back across the lawn, placed his empty glass on the table at the marquee. He looked at his watch. Mandy Latham approached him, slinky in a shimmering blue silk dress that matched her shining eyes. ‘Hi,’ she said tentatively. ‘I’m Mandy. Were you really Charlie’s commanding officer in the SAS?’

  ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,’ Ben said. ‘Great to meet you, Mandy. I have to go now.’

  He left her staring after him as he walked away.

  Chapter Five

  Summertown, Oxford

  That afternoon

  Professor Tom Bradbury shut the front door behind him, put down his old briefcase and laid his car keys on the oak stand in the hall next to the vase of flowers.

  The house was quiet. He hadn’t expected it to be. Zoë should be home today, and her presence was always made noticeable by the hard rock soundtrack that she insisted on blaring at full volume from the living-room hi-fi.

  Bradbury wandered through to the airy kitchen. The patio windows were open, and the scents of the garden were wafting through the room. Remembering the half-finished bottle of Pinot Grigio from the night before, he opened the fridge. Inside was a freshly prepared dish of chocolate mousse, Zoë’s favourite pudding, which her mother always prepared for her visits home.

  He tutted and poured himself a glass of the chilled wine. Sipping it, he stepped out into the garden and saw his wife Jane kneeling at the flower-beds, a tray of brightly coloured annuals beside her.