James Herbert

by Sepulchre

  7 KLINE'S PREMONITION

  Cora picked at the salad, her interest centred on Halloran rather than the food before her. The riverside terrace was beginning to fill with office workers on early lunch break, the fine weather after such a dreary winter proving an attraction. A pleasure-boat filled with pink-faced tourists cruised by, theThames a slatey-blue again after months of sluggish greyness. New buildings lined the bank across the river alongside old decaying warehouses. There was still an edgy chill in the air, but it only served to make the new season more fresh, a cleanness in the breeze sweeping away the dregs of winter.

  Halloran was winding his way through the circular tables, holding the two drinks chest high to avoid nudging heads and shoulders of other diners.

  She watched and she was just a little afraid of him. The casual way in which he had dealt with Monk's aggression made her wonder how lethal he could be if the situation were desperate. Yet at first glance he seemed anything but a violent man. He was tall, but not massive, his body lean, certainly not muscle-bound. Even his clothes were casual, nothing sharp or self-conscious about them.

  That was at first glance. Take another look and notice the pale blue eyes, the warmth in them that could turn to a bleak coldness in an instant. She'd seen that happen when he'd been introduced to Felix. And Felix had been aware of it, too.

  That worried her, for Felix might need this enigmatic man, no matter what mutual dislike had already sprung up between them. There was something about I-lalloran's quiet strength that was totally reassuring: he was a man to feel safe with—unless you were his enemy.

  Cora thanked him with a smile as Halloran placed the gin and tonic in front of her; she deliberately left it there, aware that she'd taken the first one too fast (to Halloran's surprised amusement). His own was a whisky with ice and he put it to one side as he tucked into his ham salad. She tried a dismal attack on her own food once again, but gave up after a few mouthfuls.

  'I don't seem to be very hungry today,' she said, and wondered why it sounded like an apology. She lifted her glass and drank, finding the gin more sustaining than lettuce and cucumber.

  Halloran nodded and took a healthy sip of his whisky to keep her company. His smile was gentle.

  'What part ofIreland were you born in, Mr Halloran?' Cora asked, the sinking warmth from her second drink already beginning to relax her.

  'Call me Liam,' he replied. 'I wasn't born inIreland . My parents were Irish, but I was born here inLondon , although I grew up in Kilkenny. My father was a captain in the British Army, and spent much of his time abroad while mother and I stayed on my grandfather's farm.'

  'And did you eventually join the army?'

  'It was a natural enough thing to do.' He put down his knife and cut pieces of cheese with the edge of his fork. 'I need to know a good deal about your employer, Miss Redmile. His private life as well as business.'

  'Cora.'

  'Okay—Cora. Tell me about him. Tell me how long he's been your boss.'

  'I joined Magma about five or six years ago, but I haven't worked for Felix all that time.' He encouraged her with a nod.

  'Felix took me on as his PA three years ago. I don't know why. He saw me when I was delivering some documents to Sir Victor's office one day from my department on the sixteenth. The documents were urgent and I interrupted their meeting. Apparently he asked about me and the next thing I knew he'd put in a request to have me as an assistant. I wasn't even sure who he was at that time, although I'd heard rumours.'

  'Rumours?'

  'Yes. No more than office gossip. Felix Kline's presence at Magma has never been official; you won't find his name mentioned in company papers, not even on a pay slip or P.45.'

  'Isn't that illegal?'

  'Not if he's never been employed by the Magma Corporation. As far as the outside world is concerned, he could just be paying rent for the penthouse suite.'

  'Except I bet even that isn't on record,' suggested Halloran.

  'The official resident is Sir Victor himself.'

  'So Kline's role for the Corporation really is that secret? Your board of directors is afraid that he'll be nabbed by the competition?'

  'More than that. There are over a hundred thousand shareholders of Magma, most of themUK

  registered: imagine their reaction if they found out their Corporation was guided by a mystic.'

  'It's a relief to hear you say that. I was beginning to wonder if I was the one who was out of touch with modern business practices.' Cora laughed and he was glad. She had been tense ever since she'd taken him away from the white room, as if the minor tussle she'd witnessed between himself and the heavy had upset her. Later, in the daylight, he'd noticed a faint darkness beneath her eyes, like smudges under the surface skin, the look of someone who'd recently found sleep difficult. Maybe she was concerned for her employer, worried because the danger to him was considered serious enough to warrant hiring a K & R

  agency, despite the fact that Kline already had his own bodyguards.

  'I gather—and this might sound naive given all I've learned so far today—that Kline has achieved fantastic results for Magma.'

  'That's an understatement.' Cora smiled at him before sipping from her glass.

  'When did the Corporation discover his talents?' Halloran left his fork on the plate and leaned forward, resting his folded arms on the table's edge. 'I mean, just who approached who?' Now she avoided his eyes. 'I'm not at liberty to say. I'm sorry, Liam, but my instructions are to supply you with information relevant only to your protection plans.'

  'Is there a reason for that?'

  'The same reason that just one person—you—will be allowed to stay close to Felix: secrecy, discretion, call it what you like. The less people who know about Felix Kline, the easier Sir Victor and others will feel.' She was suddenly anxious. 'I'm not assuming too much, am I? You have accepted the assignment.'

  'Oh yes,' he replied softly and again, there was something disconcerting in his eyes when he smiled. 'But there are certain ground rules he'll have to agree to.' Halloran reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and drew out a folded sheet of paper. 'A simple list of Do's and Don't's,' he said, handing it to Cora.

  'Make sure he reads through it today. If Kline's willing to go by them, call Shield later this afternoon, talk to Mather.'

  'And if Felix isn't willing?'

  'Then we've got problems. Possibly Shield will turn down the assignment.~ 'May I see the list?'

  'Of course. You'll be part of the set-up.' Cora unfolded the sheet of paper and ran her eyes over the lines of type. She nodded her head. 'It all seems straightforward enough.' Halloran reached over and tapped the corner of the paper. 'Point three there. Does Kline have a chauffeur?'

  'Yes. One of his bodyguards. Janusz Palusinski.'

  'Is Palusinski familiar with anti-kidnap driving techniques?'

  'I . . . I don't know.'

  'It's important.'

  'I'm sorry, I really have no idea. Palusinski has been with Felix a lot longer than I have.'

  'Okay. If he isn't he'll have to spend a day or so with one of Shield's drivers. He'll need to learn the handbrake turn, the reverse turn, how to break through a road-block—that kind of thing. None of it's too difficult to master for an experienced driver. Until then, I'll do any driving for Kline.' Cora looked down at the list again. 'Covert signals?' she asked.

  'We'll work out a system of identifying each other with code-words. Handy for telephone conversations, knocking on doors and the like. We'll arrange non-verbal signals too for emergencies where words either won't help or might put us at risk. Nothing fancy, just simple signs. There'll be other key words for use in a kidnap situation, words that will let us know if Kline is hurt, the number of abductors, maybe even clues to his location if he's aware of it himself. If he sticks to the rules there shouldn't be any need for those.'

  Cora shivered, caught by a breeze skimming off the river. 'This is scary,' she said.

  'Sure it is.
But that's how it should be—scary enough to keep you both on your toes.'

  'That isn't very reassuring.'

  'You're hiring my company for Kline's protection, not far giving false comfort. I've got to be frank with you, Cora: if an organisation, be it terrorist or hoodlum, is out to get someone, it's virtually impossible to prevent them from at least making the attempt—and that's usually when people get hurt. We can only do our best to minimise the risk. But if it's any consolation, it's far easier to assassinate someone than it is to kidnap them.' She visibly paled.

  Halloran leaned forward again and gripped her lower arm. 'I didn't mean to alarm you. We are only talking about a kidnap and ransom situation here, aren't we? Nobody's threatened his life?' Cora slowly shook her head and Halloran withdrew his hand.

  'What is it, Cora? What's upsetting you? As I understand it, all we're going on is a “feeling” Kline has that he's in some kind of danger, with no hard evidence of that really being the case.'

  'You don't know Felix, you've no idea of his psychic ability. He has powers . . .' Her voice trailed off.

  'Yeah, I know—powers that are secret.' Halloran looked away from her, towards the river. 'Well that's between Magma and Kline. My only interest is protecting a man made of flesh and blood, someone as vulnerable as the rest of us. But if he knows something about this particular predicament he's in—or imagines he's in—he'd better tell me. What is it that's frightened him so much, Cora” She bowed her head for a moment. Her fingers curled around the base of her gin glass, which was now empty; she twisted the glass, sunlight glistening off its rim. A group at a nearby table laughed at a shared joke. The microphone-voice from a pleasureboat guide drifted over the terrace parapet. Cora's fingers became still.

  'For the past week,' she began, her voice low and hesitant, aware of the people around them, 'Felix has been troubled by some kind of premonition. Nothing substantial, nothing he can recognise. A dream, a nightmare, one that he can never remember when he wakes. But he knows it's a warning to him, a precognition of sorts that won't fully reveal itself to him. It's made him distraught. No, more than that

  -Felix is terrified.'

  'He didn't look that way to me,' commented Halloran.

  'He'd never show those feelings to an outsider. Felix is a very private man.'

  'You're telling me he's had a premonition of his own death'?' She gave a shake of her head. 'No. No, something worse than that.' A shadow fell across the table startling them both. A barman collected their empty glasses, transferring them to a tray of others.

  'Lovely day,' the barman said, turning away without waiting The girl looked across at Halloran. She said nothing more.

  8 BODYGUARDS

  Snaith wasn't happy.

  'You mean Magma is going to all this bother because their man—this chap Kline—has had a premonition of some sort?' He glared at Halloran as though it were his fault.

  Halloran, himself, seemed preoccupied. He scratched the back of his fingers against his jaw. 'That's how it is,' he said.

  Snaith rested back in his chair, one hand still on the desk, fingers drumming a beat. 'Ludicrous,' he pronounced.

  'Not to the Corporation,' said Mather, sitting in an easychair opposite Halloran, his bad leg stretched out before him (now and again during the briefing and planning meeting he would absent-mindedly rub at his kneecap as if to ease the pain of the old wound). 'They have great faith in this man's ability; I don't think it's for us to dismiss his foreboding so lightly.' Dieter Stuhr, sitting at one end of the Controller's desk, tapped the blunt end of his pencil against the large notepad in front of him. 'Personally, I don't see how that affects us anyway. What goes on between Kline and the Magma Corporation is their affair. We should treat this like any other job.'

  'Of course you're right,' agreed Snaith, 'but this business bothers me. It's . . .' he shook his head, frustrated '. . . it's not logical. What kind of man is he, Liam?'

  'Changeable,' came the reply. 'I'd say he's highly unstable neurotic, in fact. He's going to be a problem.'

  'I see.' Snaith's expression was grim. 'Well, we've dealt with prima donnas before. And his personal bodyguards? What's your opinion of their worth?'

  'I was only introduced to one. He wasn't very effective.' Nobody in the room asked him how he'd reached that conclusion; they accepted his word.

  Mather consulted a notebook. 'I have the names of the other three here. Let me see now, yes—Janusz Palusinski, his driver, then Asil Khayed and Youssef Daoud. They're described as “personal attendants”, which I suppose could imply anything.'

  'Good Lord,' exclaimed Snaith. 'Arabs?'

  'Jordanians.'

  'And the first? Czech? Polish?'

  'Janusz Palusinski—Polish.'

  'And the one you met, Liam?'

  'Monk. He didn't say much.'

  'Theodore Albert Monk,' Mather supplied from his notebook. 'According to the Magma files, he's American.'

  'That's some mixed bag,' commented Snaith.

  'Apparently Felix Kline picked them up on his travels. They've all been with him for years.'

  'The driver might need some training,' suggested Halloran.

  'That's being taken care of,' Snaith told him. 'Kline's PA, Miss, uh—Redmile, rang me earlier this afternoon to arrange it. Dieter?'

  'I've got him booked in for tomorrow. We'll lease Magma one of our own specials—for Palusinski to train in and to use afterwards. Kline's own vehicle doesn't have enough protection facilities; body and windows are bullet-proof, but that's about it. I'll want to keep Palusinski for at least two days, Liam, to make sure he really knows what he's doing when he leaves us, so it looks like you're Kline's chauffeur until then.' Halloran nodded.

  Snaith spoke: 'Miss Redmile also confirms that her employer agrees to the list of conditions regarding his own actions in the forthcoming weeks. I understand you had lunch with her today?' He was looking directly at Halloran. 'Apart from their business relationship, what is she to Kline? Is she his mistress?'

  Halloran took time to consider the question. Finally, he said, 'She could be.'

  'She's that type?'

  'What type?'

  'The type who beds her boss.'

  'I wouldn't know.'

  'But she's a looker.' Halloran nodded.

  'Let's assume that's the case, then.' Mother noticed the brief flare of anger in Halloran's eyes and was puzzled by it. Liam usually held his emotions totally in check. 'I don't see that it's entirely relevant, Gerald,' Mather put in. 'After all, Kline isn't married, and there's no mention of other girlfriends—or boyfriends, for that matter—in the dossier from Magma.'

  'She could be a weak spot,' Snaith replied. 'He might put himself at risk if he knows she's in danger.

  There could be other possibilities, also. Has she been checked out?'

  'I have her file right here,' said Stuhr. 'Charles brought it back from Magma earlier today, so I've only managed to glance through it. She sounds pretty solid to me. Raised in Hampshire, an only child, father a university lecturer, mother a local GP, both now deceased. Attended private school until eighteen, bright seven Os and three As—but never went on to university. Rents an apartment in Pimlico, has a substantial sum of money in her bank account—what's left of the proceeds from the sale of her parents' home, plus a little of her own savings. Magma is her first and only job apart from a bit of summertime temping when she was still a student; she worked her way up in the organisation and I think she is wonderful.' He took a black and white photograph from the file and held it up for the others to see.

  Snaith didn't smile. 'Dig deeper over the next few days. Find out who she socialises with, boyfriends, lovers, her politics, religion—you know the kind of thing. She's close to the target, so we can't take chances.' Snaith paused, ran fingers through his short ginger-grey hair.

  'Now,' he said, looking round at all of them. 'Our friend Mr Kline. Just what the hell do we know about him?'

  'Hardly anything,' answered St
uhr. 'It took me all of half-aminute to read through his file.'

  'Hmn, that's what I was afraid of. This bloody secrecy can be taken too far.'

  'Oh, I don't chink Magma is to blame,' said Mather. 'When I spoke with the chairman this morning it became very apparent that the Corporation doesn't actually know too much about Felix Kline's background. I got the impression that so long as the man continues to make them money, they're not particularly bothered.'

  'Would somebody please tell me just what it is he does for Magma?' complained Stuhr.

  'Sorry, Dieter.' said Snaith, 'that isn't necessary for you to know. Their terms, I'm afraid, so don't sulk.

  What does his file tell us?' Stuhr made a snorting noise, but didn't argue. 'Like I said there isn't much. He was born inIsrael , arrived inEngland eleven years ago, began working far the Magma Corporation almost immediately = 'A Jew with two Arab companions?' interrupted Snaith.

  'They're not all bitter enemies. He moved into the penthouse suite of the Magma building when it was completed about five years ago. He also has a country home inSurrey , by a lake, two thousand acres of pastures and woodland. I need hardly say that's a huge amount of land to own in the Home Counties.

  He's obviously a very wealthy man. Unmarried, doesn't drive, doesn't smoke, drinks a little, no mention of drugs -but there wouldn't be—doesn't gamble. That's about it.'

  'What?' said Snaith incredulously. 'There must be more.' Stuhr reached for a file lying beneath Cora Redmile's. He opened it and indicated the single sheet of paper inside. 'I told you there wasn't much to read.'

  'It must give his birth date, where he was educated, his employment before Magma. Isn't there anything about his social activities? It's essential that we at least have some idea of what those are.'

  'He doesn't appear to have any if this document is anything to go by.'

  'Charles?' Snaith appealed.

  Mather waved a hand. 'That's the situation I'm afraid. Even in conversation the chairman gave nothing away. Naturally I probed, but got nowhere. As I said, they seem to know little about the man themselves, and I think that's of Kline's choosing; perhaps part of his own terms of employment was his complete privacy on all personal matters. If he'd already demonstrated how good his abilities were, I don't suppose the board objected too much.'