by Penny Grubb
‘Who was it, Elora?’
Lorraine gave a deep chuckle as though they were sharing a joke. ‘The supplanter, of course.’
Annie stifled a sigh. She must keep a grip on what was important. Forget the rest. Lorraine knew the killer. Annie must get her away from here.
‘You do remember the chant, don’t you, Annie?’
Annie smiled, her priority to humour the mad woman. ‘Yes, of course.’ A tendril of fear snaked round her as she spoke. She did remember the chant. Lorraine meant the building-with-eyes. ‘Crowds,’ she whispered. ‘I hated the crowds. They scared me silly.’
‘You didn’t see the crowds,’ Lorraine snapped. ‘You were too young.’
‘But I remember …’
‘You don’t.’
Annie pulled herself up. ‘Please come with me now, Elora.’
‘Where, Annie? We can’t go back. It’s all gone. Ruined. The chant was sacred. He had no right. It’s all rotten. Of course it is. What did you expect?’
‘Then we must put it right.’
Time pressed on her. She didn’t want to try to force Lorraine, though with Mike’s help she might be able to.
‘OK,’ Lorraine stood up. ‘Let’s go.’
Annie jumped to her feet.
They left through the front door. She saw Mike across the road and jerked her head to beckon him over.
‘Elora and I are old friends.’ She took Lorraine’s arm and gave Mike a warning look over the mad woman’s head. ‘Just walk along behind us. We’re going down to the station and we’ll pick up a cab.’
Lorraine walked beside her, serene. Annie was on edge, wanting more distance between them and the house.
‘There,’ said Lorraine’s voice, laden with self-righteousness. ‘I told you …’
Before the speech was half over, instinct had Annie throw herself towards the ground, trying to say something, anything, to warn Mike. She pulled in a breath that seemed never to end, as she turned and ducked … not knowing what was coming … where from …
Mike’s face was briefly in her line of sight. Shock drained the colour from him. He jerked forward convulsively. She saw the white of his shirt as his jacket billowed open. A red stain erupted.
No!
‘Mike! Oh God, Mike …’
She half reached for him. ‘Go … Annie … They don’t know …’
He’d been behind them. He hadn’t been the target. If she attached herself to him, she was inviting the killer to finish him off. She had to run, to get away. But what if he was dying?
Get clear, draw the killer away.
She half ran, half scrambled to the nearest gate and crashed through it, sprinting for the side of another of the big houses. Praying her way wouldn’t be barred by gates and unscalable walls, she clambered through bushes, over fences, feeling her clothes tear, the blood run as thorns scraped down the side of her face.
She reached another road and sprinted along it, scrabbling her phone from her pocket as she went, diving down the first side street she came to, risking a fraction of a second as she turned the corner to glance at the numbers, to get her finger to stab out 999. Off the road again and forcing her way through back yards and between rusted carcasses of cars.
The voice in her ear was painfully slow, asking questions. ‘Ambulance. Police,’ she panted out as loudly as she dare.
The voice wanted her name, her number. ‘No time. Just listen …’ She saw the dead-end up ahead, saw which wall she must climb. It was high.
‘A man’s been shot.’ She gabbled out the name of Lorraine’s street. ‘Hurry, please. He’s badly injured.’ Please God that wasn’t true. She had to shove the phone into her pocket, no time even to close the call.
The wall was hard to climb, high and exposed at its summit. She dropped to the ground and ran. More streets, more dusty yards. The light was fading now. The darkness came in to hide her. In the corner of a narrow alleyway, she allowed herself to stop.
She’d heard no screams, no shouting, no sounds of pursuit, but there’d be screams from her right now if she didn’t stop thinking about Mike.
‘I had to leave you,’ she whispered. ‘Please understand.’
The police would be out in force, even without her call. No one could fire shots in an area like that and not have the law out. Was it confidence or insanity to risk trying to shoot her? Or was it desperation?
Had she got away?
Keep moving. Don’t risk him catching up. She’d have left a visible trail of broken branches and outraged householders behind her. She must find her way to the lock-up and get her car. She daren’t go anywhere near the flat.
Her clothes were filthy and ripped. The people she passed looked away, changed direction to avoid coming close.
If she could only reach the safety of the lock-up, she could let her guard down enough to think. Whoever was behind her, couldn’t allow her to live, not now she’d talked to mad Lorraine. But until she got to her father and told him what she knew, she mustn’t trust anyone. Even he would have trouble with it, but he’d believe her. He’d mobilize the right teams, find Mike for her. Tears threatened as she replayed the ashen disbelief on Mike’s face, the convulsive forward jerk, the sudden eruption of blood that soaked his shirt front.
I had to leave you.
It seemed hours later that she made it to the familiar row of garages. An uncontrollable tremble jangled the keys in her hand. She had to hold one hand with the other to get the key in the lock, then grunted with the effort of lifting the door. She slipped inside where the darkness engulfed her as she squeezed down beside the car as far from the world as possible. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see. The light on her phone was all she needed.
She reached into her jacket pocket. Other pocket … trouser pockets … The slow fall into the relief of safety became a frantic scramble. She pushed past the car, wrenched the door wide, pulled pockets inside out. On hands and knees she searched the floor. Where was her phone? She thought back to the way she’d rammed it into her pocket as she’d thrown herself at that high wall. Wherever she’d dropped it, it was out of reach now.
No. Not her phone. Tears splashed down. She looked at the backs of the houses that edged the alley. Could she walk up to someone’s door at this time of night and ask to use the phone? Emergency. It’s an emergency, she’d say. She leant into the garage and looked at her reflection in the car window. Even the blurred and indistinct image looked hopelessly disreputable. How close was her pursuer? No one must find her before she got to her father.
She pulled herself upright, wouldn’t give in. No one knew where she was. If she couldn’t contact him from here, she’d go and find a pay phone, find him if necessary.
What chance the car? She got in, pushed the key home and turned it. The engine wheezed, but turned. She’d heard worse from it on cold mornings. She tried again and it fired. The machinery coughed, and so did Annie as fumes filled the tiny space. Mustn’t gas herself now, that would be giving it to them on a plate. She got out and opened up the door properly. The engine behind her rattled, but kept ticking over. If the car could still function, so could she.
Run fast and far, that was the rule when you’d almost been caught. She wouldn’t try to make it all the way home, but she’d get as far as she dared, put at least a couple of hours driving between her and the madman.
She avoided the main routes out of the city, but joined the motorway as soon as she could. Fastest route out.
Disordered images kaleidoscoped through her head. One face showed a grinning assassin, staring right at her. The grin fragmented as the kaleidoscope turned. It became Aunt Marian waggling a finger, ‘You know, dear, it was very silly of you.’ Spin to Mike. Now it was Mike who fragmented not the image. Blood gushed from Julia Lee’s chest. A hand pulled a knife. A face she couldn’t see. Her mother approached her from behind, held out the doll.
‘Concentrate!’ she told herself, feeling a desperation to be back home with her father where
all this had started, the only place she could lay the ghosts to rest. Dad, it’s bad news. And then to Mike, ‘I had to leave. He’d have finished you off and got me too. If I could have stayed to help you, I would. If I’ve lost you forever, please understand …’
It was almost 5 a.m. when she pulled into Tibshelf services. Even at this hour, there were enough people about to hide her, and payphones to take her to her father. Phone first, then coffee to keep her awake as she completed the journey.
She listened to the ringing of her father’s phone and braced herself to speak calmly when he answered. Tears threatened. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop them when she heard his voice.
The phone rang … and rang … and eventually the answer-phone cut in.
She hadn’t expected this. She needed him to be there. How could he sleep so deeply? She put the phone down and rang again. Again it rang itself through to the machine. How did she begin to tell him what had happened in an answer phone message?
‘Hi Dad, it’s Annie. I need to speak to you. I’ll ring later. It’s … uh … it’s urgent.’ Of course it was urgent at this hour.
Next, she rang the flat, praying her call would be answered, that she’d hear Mike’s voice. If he picked up, nothing would stop the tears, but he didn’t. She rang again and hit the button for remote access to the answer-phone.
One new message. Mike! Please let it be Mike ringing to say he was OK.
‘Annie? You there, Annie?’
Jak! She was so surprised, she almost dropped the handset.
His voice slurred, drunk. ‘The bastards came after me, Annie. I thought it was you at first. They’ll have gone for you too. I got away. Did you get away, Annie? Cos if you did, I’ve got something for you. You won’t believe how close we got. Call me, Annie. I’ll show you.’
Pause. Don’t hang up, Jak, her mind screamed. Leave a number.
‘Uh … call me on …’ The number came out in fits and starts as though he was reading from small print in a badly lit room.
She’d lost Lorraine, but fate had given her Jak. Now she was running with real purpose, a real goal. Mustn’t do anything rash. She must deliver Jak to her father. But where was he? She had to find him first.
The phone was answered at the second ring. ‘Yeah?’
‘Jak? Is that you?’
‘Annie! Where are you?’ She heard panic in his voice. He was terrified and desperate for her help.
‘My God, Jak, I thought you must be dead.’
‘Where are you, Annie?’
beep beep beep
Christ! It wanted more money already. She scrabbled for change. ‘Hang on, Jak, I’m in a payphone. There … right. Tell me quick. What have you found?’
‘Annie, where are you?’
‘Never mind that, Jak. I haven’t got much change left. Just tell me. Quickly.’ His total bewilderment leaked down the line.
‘Come and meet me, Annie. Can you get to Dish’s? How quick can you be there?’
beep beep beep
She agonized as she pushed more coins into the slot. What to do? Dish’s? No, she wouldn’t meet him at that sordid basement but the suggestion had lifted a weight. He was still north of the border. Near her father’s. She’d collect him on the way home.
‘Not Dish’s, Jak. Meet me off the ferry. I’ll be there in … about … I’ll be on the nine-thirty ferry. Meet me at Hunter’s Quay.’ It was automatic to stretch the time, to make out she wouldn’t be in Glasgow before nine. Play for time. She’d be there by eight, but someone might be watching Jak. They’d tried to get him once. ‘Is that OK, Jak? You’ll be there, won’t you? I’ve no more change when this runs out.’
She felt slightly sick at the thought of introducing Jak to her father.
Chapter 24
When the car juddered and stalled at a red traffic light in the centre of Glasgow, it took Annie whole minutes to realize it had coughed its last. Continued tries with the key produced a dry whine with no glimmer of a spark. She became a temporary island in a flow of moving traffic.
She jumped out, put her shoulder to the door pillar and heaved the car across to a gravelled square of waste ground.
It wasn’t far to the ferry docks. She set off at a jog. At just after eight on Sunday morning, the city had a relaxed feel. Cars sped past her, just another early morning jogger. The city absorbed her as one of its own, but the smell of the sea air deceived her. It blew a long way into the city, and mixed with the sickly tang of unburnt fuel. This wasn’t a route she’d done on foot before and it was further than she realized. She had to slow to a walk long before the Caledonian MacBrayne dock came in reach. In the car, she’d have driven past and gone on to the Western terminal, but why bother? The first Sunday run was due out. If anyone had outflanked her and got this far, they’d watch for her on a Western ferry. Anyone watching Jak would expect her the other side at ten-ish. This way, she’d be there first, on the wrong boat, and watching for them.
An hour later found her the other side of the estuary, puffing for breath as she climbed the steep hill above Hunter’s Quay. There was no point in side-stepping the trap only to walk into it from behind. The air blew fresher this side. She would sit well out of the way and watch for Jak, sure that he’d come strolling along, hands in pockets just before ten, without a thought for discretion. Annie wouldn’t approach him until sure he hadn’t a trail of hidden followers.
Her legs protested the climb so soon after her jog through Glasgow and on top of a night without sleep.
She stopped abruptly, and drew back into the shade of a house wall. There was Jak leaning over a wall further along. He had binoculars to his eyes and was watching the ferry terminal. He’d been frightened out of his own sense of self to be this cautious, an hour early and well back from the action.
The outline of his slim profile roused uncomfortable memories, but now Jak was the chance she’d let slip when Lorraine got away. If Mike was … if he was dead … it mustn’t be for nothing. She must get Jak to her father.
Something held Jak’s attention down by the water. Annie moved nearer.
His binoculars were trained on a car down by the dock parked back from the designated parking. Without the benefit of a magnified view, she could see no detail, but didn’t need it. A shock ran through her. Someone was down there waiting for her.
Thank God Jak had spotted them and she had found him. They were within touching distance of safety. Just one last short journey across the mountain. She was prepared to steal a car to do it. And they must move now, before the next ferry came in and planted a seed of suspicion.
She walked down towards Jak and spoke his name as she approached. He whirled round to face her, his expression first blank, then shocked. He half-pointed with the binoculars, then laughed. It was close to hysteria.
‘Jak.’ Annie put her hand on his arm. ‘Come on. We’ve got to get away from here.’
‘They’re waiting for you, Annie. D’you want to nip down and say hello?’
‘Don’t even joke about it. Come on. We have to go to my father’s. We’ll need a car.’
‘Where’s your car?’
‘Broke down in Glasgow.’
‘How did you get across?’
‘Cal-Mac. Foot-passenger.’
He laughed ‘I thought I’d no chance when I saw that lot waiting. Come on, Annie.’ He reached back and took her arm to help her along. ‘You look knackered.’
‘I am. I couldn’t make it on foot, Jak. We really need to get a car. If we make our way round, we can get a taxi from–’
‘No need. I’ve got a car.’
‘You’ve got a car?’
‘Sure. Borrowed it off Dish. It’s on the top road.’
‘Dish has a car?’
‘Don’t collapse now, Annie. You hungry? Thirsty?’
‘Starving, but it can wait. It can all wait till we get across the mountain. Got enough petrol?’
‘Sure. There’s cake and stuff in the car. Bottle of
cola. You look wiped out.’
The elderly two-litre saloon sat on the grass at the side of the top road. Annie knew as she looked at it, it wasn’t credible. Dish wouldn’t have a car. It must be stolen. She didn’t care. If it would take them across the mountain, nothing else mattered. She fell on to the passenger seat, as Jak climbed behind the wheel. ‘In there.’ He pointed to the glove compartment. Annie pulled out a crumpled paper bag and a plastic bottle. The bag contained the crushed remains of what had been cake. ‘It’s OK,’ Jak told her. ‘Just got mashed a bit in there.’
It tasted stale and dry, cheap cake he’d picked up from a bargain basement. She was hungry enough to eat it, but it dried her mouth like sawdust.
‘What’s this?’ She held up the plastic bottle.
He twisted the key in the ignition and bumped the car on to the road. ‘Some sorta cola.’
She took a sip, and grimaced at the oversweet syrupy texture. It cleared her mouth of the powdery crumbs, but left a bitter aftertaste. ‘C’mon, Jak. Tell me what you found. What did you mean we’d got close?’
‘I’ll do better than that: I’ll show you.’
‘No, Jak!’ Impatience made her snap at him. ‘No detours. Just tell me, then take me home.’
Suddenly, she felt too tired to fight about it, but it hardly mattered. The car was speeding in the right direction. They drove up into the forest where the trees surrounded them. The dark poles of the trunks blurred until they danced round the car. It was she and Jak who were still, the forest spun round and round. She would just close her eyes, wouldn’t sleep.
‘Straight to my father’s, Jak. No pissing about.’
‘Don’t pass out, Annie. Have some more of that.’
She reacted to the alarm in his voice, tried to say, it’s OK, I’m only tired. The words wouldn’t come. He pushed the bottle at her. The car swerved as he took his eyes off the road. She put the bottle to her lips and tipped her head back. A globule of syrupy slop caught in her throat, made her gag. She thought she’d throw the whole lot up again. The bottle slipped through her fingers and bounced on to the floor. She slumped back into the seat.
Jak’s voice droned on at the edge of consciousness, telling her what he’d found, what he was going to show her. No, Jak. Take me home. Tiredness hit like a shroud thrown over her head. She slept.