The bomb had gone back! All that effort gone to waste. Rage bubbled up inside him. Like a toddler unable to get its own way, he lashed out. Gathering energy from the air around him, he directed it in blasts at the part of the house from which those thoughts had come.
Three
A howling wind accompanied the trashing of the bedroom. It came from nowhere. Certainly there was no obvious source – no window open, no hole in the wall. Regardless of its origin, it seemed in keeping with the clothes straining against their hangers in the wardrobe.
Martin was shielded from the worst of it as he crouched just outside the room. Freaky gusts slapped his cheeks, but he felt safe there - unlike Ian and Tanya, who were still laying on the floor. From this angle, Martin could see only their feet and ankles. They thrashed and jerked as the furniture exploded around them. It was impossible to tell whether they were reacting to the crashes and bangs, or whether glass or heavy furniture was dropping on them.
He wanted to call to them, but realised it was just a basic need to make contact. Nothing practical could be gained by it, especially as the shrieking of the wind meant it would be difficult to make them hear him.
What could he say anyway? Don’t worry. It’ll all stop when the Raven gets fed up. He didn’t believe it for a moment. So he’d be lying, which wouldn’t offer any real comfort to them. Not that Tanya would have a clue what he was talking about. And even Ian might not completely understand.
Last night, Ian had been brought in on some of what was happening. It wasn’t planned, but then he hadn’t banked on Ian being with him if he found the missing van. Quite rightly, he’d wanted to call the police as soon as they came across it. The problem was, Martin knew he had to get in touch with Claire, Adam and the other sentinels. That was what they’d asked him to do. Of course, if anyone else had come up with the yarn they’d spun the previous night, he’d have laughed at them. But there was a certainty about them, and an indefinable something that made him feel he could trust them. So if their story was true, he couldn’t let them down. Because if he did, he’d also be letting the rest of the village down, and God alone knew who else – whether in the present, the past or the future.
How did you convince someone else though?
As they’d headed back from the barn to the house, that was the question that ran through his mind. He kept opening his mouth, ready to say something, but filled with doubt about his ability to get the message across. It wasn’t as if he could just make a quick phone call either. Kindness Farm didn’t have a telephone. So they’d have to drive over, which would mean delaying the call to the police even longer. Martin didn’t have a problem with that, but he couldn’t see Ian going along with it unless he had a good reason. Scratch that. Unless he had a good and plausible reason.
It was like last minute revision, or not telling your mum about breaking her favourite ornament until she’s just about to discover it for herself. You put it off until you don’t have any other choice.
That was why they were at the kitchen door before Martin finally started talking.
“I know you’ve only known me for a day or two, but would you do me a favour before we call the police?”
Ian paused, his hand on the door knob. “You know something about this, don’t you?” He said it as if he didn’t want to believe it, and Martin was encouraged by that.
“I do, but not in the way you think,” he said hurriedly. “We haven’t got time for me to give you a full explanation,” he went on, aware that a full explanation would probably only lead to Ian questioning his sanity. “But there’s a group of people nearby who are watching out for this.”
“That’s right. The police.” There was a sarcastic edge to his voice.
“You know I don’t mean them. These guys are... Well, they’re kind of like the police. I suppose you could say they’ve been on a long-term stakeout, waiting to catch the bloke who’s responsible for stealing the van.”
“Bearing in mind that the van was only stolen yesterday, how long term has this stakeout been?”
That would be a hard one to sell. He ducked it.
“It’s not the van, it’s the bloke who stole it. They’ve been waiting for him to turn up.”
“And what are they going to do with him when they find him?”
Probably an even harder sell, Martin realised. Ian was clearly assuming he was talking about people who’d make the Krays look like Mary Poppins. On that basis, he might be relieved to hear that they didn’t want to harm the thief. But he’d also be somewhat sceptical.
“They just want to talk to him.”
“About?”
Martin could feel his story – such as it had been – falling apart. “I can’t tell you,” he said weakly.
“What’s your involvement?”
The change of tack, while more than reasonable, threw Martin.
“How do you mean?” He was stalling, trying hard to think of something credible as an answer to Ian’s question.
“I mean, how come you know about all this? Have you really just come back from the Canaries, or are you part of some gang and you’ve just been sent here to help with a job?”
“Why would a gang send me to my home village to do a ‘job’?”
“I don’t know. But then, I don’t really know much about you, do I, Martin?”
In spite of the intensity of his words, he still managed to keep his voice low. Both of them had. Somehow it didn’t seem appropriate to be speaking in normal conversational tones when they were outside at this time of night.
Holding his hands out submissively, Martin shrugged. “Look, I know this sounds off the wall. In part that’s because I haven’t got time to explain everything to you. And I know it’s a lot to ask you to trust me on this. But I really need to let these people come and have a look before the police get here.”
“What are they going to do? Bring sniffer dogs so they can try and follow the trail he’s left behind?”
“I doubt it.”
“Then what?”
Martin racked his brains, trying desperately to think of some way of explaining things to Ian that might just make sense. As he did, he became aware of an engine noise. Not unusual in a farming community at that time of the morning. But it was getting closer. He turned to look behind him as Ian looked over his shoulder. Light flickered on the track leading up from The Barns. The beams grew bigger, filling the ground on the other side of the gate. They briefly saw the shadowy outline of the front of the vehicle, then the lights turned into the yard, blinding them.
As the Land Rover pulled up, the driver killed the lights, but left the engine running. It took a few moments for his eyes to readjust to the darkness. Tiny stars exploded across the backs of them, gradually dying out. When they were gone, Adam was standing in front of him, Claire and Mason were just behind.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Claire will explain that to you in a minute, Martin.” Adam studied Ian carefully for a moment. His scrutiny was met with silent hostility.
“The van’s here,” Martin said impatiently. “He wants to call the police.”
“That would be the right thing to do,” Adam pointed out.
“Yeah. But not yet. I was trying to explain why he needed to give me time to call you in.”
“Difficult job.” Adam clearly understood the struggle Martin had experienced. He glanced at Claire. “I’ll enlighten Mr McLean while Martin shows you what he’s found.”
She nodded agreement, then took Martin by the arm and headed back towards the gate. Mason stayed with Adam, presumably to give Ian an added incentive to stay put and listen.
They were almost at the gate before Claire said anything. By then, they were pretty much out of earshot of the others.
“There’s obviously something very special about you, Martin. I don’t know why, but you seem to have picked up some psychic abilities.” A flash of teeth reflected in the dim light. Martin hoped it was a natural accompaniment
to the light-hearted tone. “Obviously, we realised you had the link to the Raven, but we hadn’t appreciated you’d connect with one of us as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“You woke me up.”
His natural instinct would normally have been to make a smutty remark. Instead, he felt awkward. Back at Kindness Farm, he’d begun to take more care of what he said in front of her, and this was an extension of that. Feeling self-conscious, he tried to keep his words to a minimum.
“How?”
“I felt your anxiety.”
“I’ve been feeling anxious since you kidnapped me.”
She ignored the reference to kidnapping. “Not this anxious. Your stress levels shot up about twenty minutes ago.”
Was it really only twenty minutes since he’d heard the van? “And you could feel that?”
“It’s a bit more tenuous than that. More a sense of it than a complete experience. But I did also catch glimpses of things you were seeing as well.” They had reached the barn. She turned and gestured to the shadowy walls around them. “All of this. Flashes of the track.” She paused, looking him squarely in the eyes. “You saw him, didn’t you?”
Martin opened his mouth to respond. He hesitated, not sure what to say. A part of him felt embarrassed at not pursuing the Raven. Even though they had made it clear he was only to report to them, there was still the concern that he might have seemed cowardly. And he didn’t want Claire to think less of him.
“You did the right thing.”
He stared at her.
“If you’d gone after him, you’d be dead by now.” He felt her hand on his shoulder. She rubbed it gently for a moment, comforting him.
“Is there anything else you can see?” he asked warily. “In my head.”
The surrounding darkness made it difficult to see clearly, but Martin thought she frowned. “No images at the moment.” Her hand stopped moving, squeezed the top of his arm. “There’s a lot of pain, though.”
He looked down, frightened of what he was feeling.
“I’ll do what I can to help,” she said. “If you want me to.”
His sense of gratitude surprised him. He looked back up. “Do you think you can?”
“For some reason, we’ve made a connection. It might help, or it might get in the way. Who knows? For now, though, it acts as an extra layer of protection for you.”
There had been a softness in her voice and – he was sure – in her eyes. Maybe something else could happen between them. He could feel an unfamiliar optimism growing within him, and was surprised it didn’t diminish when her expression hardened and she nodded towards the barn door. “Now, let’s go and find out what he’s been up to.”
By the time they returned to the yard, Adam had done his job with Ian.
“That’s two of you in one night,” Adam remarked quietly to Martin as they approached. “Can’t remember that happening before.”
So Ian had been made aware of the existence of the sentinels. But he didn’t fully understand about the Raven. In the short time Adam had been with him, it had been impossible to give him a full appreciation.
Now, as wardrobe doors thrashed about, threatening to tear themselves off their hinges, as curtains ripped away from their fixings and across the room, Martin hugged himself against the doorframe, filled with a need to connect with Ian. For the first time in many years, he acknowledged his loneliness. He had spent more years on his own than he cared to remember, even before he’d left the village, but the sense of loneliness had been suppressed. Crouched only feet away from this couple he’d known only two days, he wanted desperately to be with them.
And then it was over. The few clothes that had managed to cling on to the rail in the wardrobe flopped down. The curtain pole rattled to a stop. A vase that had been rocking on the edge of a chest of drawers rattled to a rest. For a long moment there was silence.
Remaining bent over, Martin scuttled across the room, broken glass crunching under his feet.
Ian’s jacket was powdered with glass and pieces of mirror. Incongruously, a sock lay at an angle between his shoulder blades, a flimsy pair of panties had folded themselves around his elbow, and a single shirt sleeve lay across the backs of his thighs. Tanya’s left leg was exposed, from mid-thigh down. He could see it between Ian’s legs, and it had been slashed and torn, blood running from some of the wounds. The reassuring thing was that it wasn’t gushing. Apart from her leg, Ian seemed to have done a good job of shielding her. The only other blood on show was coming from Ian’s right ear. His shirt collar was splattered with bright red stains.
Martin reached down and shook Ian’s shoulder. With hindsight, the flinching response was only to be expected.
“It’s okay,” Martin soothed. “It’s only me. But you’ve got to get up. We’ve got to get out.”
At the sound of his voice, Ian seemed to slump, tension easing out of him. Presumably the relief at the familiar sound rather than the content of his message. As he relaxed, though, Tanya grunted.
“Get off me, you bastard!” She sounded panicked rather than angry, and it did the trick. Ian scrambled to lift himself off her, and was immediately conscious of her nakedness.
“Look the other way, will you?” he snapped at Martin.
But Martin already had, and was grabbing loose items of clothing from the bed and shaking the glass out of them. He glanced back only to make sure that anything he tossed over to them went in the right direction. Then he pulled the duvet off and flipped it over and on to the floor. It wasn’t a foolproof solution, but it should protect Tanya’s feet from most of the fallen glass.
That done, he turned to check their progress. Tanya had pulled a pair of lightweight trousers on. They were white and already streaked with blood. Ian was handing her a sweatshirt. Both of them were trembling.
“Come on!” Martin urged. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
Tanya looked up at him, confusion on her face. The fact that her breasts were exposed to him didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. He suspected that would have been the case regardless of the circumstances. If those circumstances had been somewhat different, Martin might well have taken time to admire the view. But embarrassment would have made that a short time.
“What the hell just happened?” She sounded stunned, distant.
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we’ve got to go. You can finish dressing while we’re going.”
“Where?”
He shot a look at Ian. “Just bring her, will you?” The Raven was nearby. He had to be the cause of the destruction in the room. Martin didn’t know how or why, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation. So they needed to get as far away as possible.
It was clear that shock had hit Ian as well. He looked at Martin, but his gaze was unfocused, almost as if he had just woken from a dream. The sharpness he’d demonstrated when he’d told Martin to look away was gone now. His wife was still half-naked and now he was virtually oblivious to it.
Martin stepped towards them, and gripped Ian’s left arm. He didn’t feel comfortable about touching Tanya.
“Now, Ian! We haven’t got much time.”
In truth, he didn’t know how much time they had. For all he knew, the Raven could have already moved on, gone to cause havoc elsewhere. He didn’t want to bank on it, though. There was the chance that his connection with Claire had kicked in and the sentinels were aware. But he had already worked out why that wouldn’t help them. The Sentinels had to keep their presence hidden from the Raven. So they could only show themselves if he wasn’t there. Which meant he couldn’t rely on them riding in like the cavalry to save him at the last minute.
“Haven’t got much time for what?” Ian asked. He didn’t sound quite as vague as he looked. Martin could only hope the stupor was wearing off.
He started to pull Ian forward and gestured at his right arm. “Get Tanya! We’re going!”
Ian planted his feet firmly and resisted. “Where?” he
asked.
And from behind him, Martin heard a voice. It sounded strained and awkward, as if it was struggling with the language. But that didn’t disguise the menace that came with it.
“A very good question. Where are you planning to go?”
Four
Collins was wedged between John Mason and Ed Croft. They were on the back seat in the Land Rover. He got the impression they’d done this before.
In the front were Adam and Claire Hawthorn. Everyone had been introduced politely and they were on first name terms, in spite of his concerns when he’d seen them all coming out of the barn. They had been tooled up, but any thought that they may be a potential threat to him had been set aside as quickly as their weapons. When they’d seen him in the yard, Claire had told everyone to put the guns and clubs down. Then she’d walked forward on her own. Her intention was clearly to reassure him, and he’d been impressed at how smoothly she’d handled it. Within minutes, they were all gathered in the farmhouse kitchen, Jennifer putting the kettle on and organising mugs.
Of course, they didn’t want to answer any of his questions. Not that the questions were the ones he originally intended to ask. Their mysterious appearance from an empty barn opened up a whole new line of enquiries. But everything he asked was deflected, in such a skilful way that it took him several minutes and almost half a mug of tea before he realised what they were doing.
They nodded politely and would respond courteously, and sometimes at length. But when they finished speaking, he’d realise they’d revealed nothing. It was artful and, frankly, impressive. He made small talk while he considered how to break down the politeness barrier. And drank more tea.
As a group, they were clearly at ease with each other in a way that went far beyond anything Collins had experienced before. The fact that three of them were related might have been offered by some as a partial explanation. But Collins had enough understanding of family lives to know that friction was a more common component than peace and tranquillity. There was an underlying tension among them, but he sensed it was connected to some outside factors, and nothing to do with their own relationships. Their outward calm gave the impression of an unnatural stillness that had the potential to give him the creeps. Yet, strangely, didn’t.
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