Wicca

by James Follett

  The spyder placed a probe each side of the man's head and waited until he started breathing. His body temperature rose steadily until it reached normal. The spyder had many checks to perform to ensure that the man's metabolic and nervous system was working properly, which it accomplished in a few seconds. It moved two metres from the man and waited.

  Less than a minute lapsed before the man stirred.

  He opened his eyes and stared up at the darkening sky. He was confused and a little frightened. A host of vivid memories of bright lights and shapes behind them were at the forefront of his consciousness but were suddenly snatched away as if they should not have been there. Something was telling him to stand. He didn't want to stand; he wanted to lie there, trying to fit the world together in a mind he could not control. But the compulsion was too strong for him to resist.

  He climbed to his feet. His balance was unsure at first for there was hardly any feeling in his legs. He thought he was going to fall but there was a sudden surge of strange sensations along his sciatic nerve. The ground hardened to a gritty reality beneath his bare feet; a feeling of his own weight; a pleasant breeze playing on his back for the humid night air was holding the sun's heat.

  His gaze focussed on the spyder. Impossible to tell if it were looking at him because it was dark. If it was, where were its eyes? Did it have eyes? But a sensor or something was pointing at him.

  Running on the spot now, arms pistoning. A proper run would be nice. And then he was off, racing in a wide, exuberant circle as through relishing being alive. He tripped and fell. The spyder started after him but stopped when the man jumped to his feet, laughing now, and completed the circle.

  He stopped before the spyder, breathing easily, wondering how was doing.

  Very well. It has taken a long time but you are ready now.

  The words just marched into his head, ready-made, sharp and clear.

  What has taken a long time? he wondered. The answer came as a kaleidoscope-like montage of images, most of them incomprehensible, but every now and than one would stand out with vivid clarity, like a light being switched on and off in a random manner.

  You will keep still now.

  The man did so, standing perfectly still. The spyder moved closer to him to finish its tests. The machine's makers had been responsible for restoring Cathy Price's sense of balance, and regenerating Vikki's left hand. Those tasks had been relatively straightforward for them because they had been dealing with living tissue and the stimulation of healing and growth systems that Cathy's and Vikki's bodies already possessed.

  But Arnie Trinder, the big, good-natured West Indian radio interference investigator, had been drowned for several hours by the time they had recovered his body from the bottom of Pentworth Lake in March. Many billions of his oxygen-starved brain cells had already decayed and so they had to replicate them as best they could. It had been a time-consuming business, even for them. There were gaps in their knowledge about the human brain that had been only partially filled by their second visit to Cathy Price. Areas of the brain controlling Trinder's higher functions, including memory, had been lost.

  Trinder's colleague, Nevil Rigsby, had also drowned in the lake. He had been older, less fit than Trinder, and had proved beyond recovery.

  There was one test that the spyder did not carry out on the West Indian as he stood in frozen obedience. There was no need because Arnie Trinder no longer had a heart but something much more efficient in the form of thousands of nano-engineered pumps distributed throughout his bloodstream. They worked continuously rather than in surges. His lungs had also been re-engineered to improve their effectiveness at transferring oxygen to his bloodstream. The collagen and other fibres in the muscles throughout his body had been increased so that he was now heavier and stronger than he had ever been. A build-up of extra calcium in each vertebra resulted in an overall increase of 40 millimetres in his height.

  The visitors had done their best for Arnie Trinder, and in so doing they had modelled him in a manner that they considered would be useful.

  He was a big, powerful man, but no longer wholly human.

  Chapter 80.

  THE ROADBLOCKS AROUND PENTWORTH were part of a cordon with police observers occupying every strategic point that provided a good view of the countryside. Many of them had their own dogs.

  Malone's surmise that all the groups in the Country Brigade task force could get through the cordon and into the town area via a cutting in the disused Midhurst railway line appeared to be substantiated with his first group. They flitted in pairs along the overgrown cutting and mustered in a tumbledown engineers' hut half a kilometre inside the cordon. There were six of them: Malone, David Weir, Dan Baldock, the two stable lads who had acquitted themselves so well during the rescue of Ellen and Vikki at the Temple of the Winds. The last member was Carl Crittenden.

  They changed out of their all-black garb into more normal dark clothes and checked their equipment. Malone was carrying a PMR radio -- for use only if the crucial stage of the night's operation had to be aborted. A final confirmation of the separate routes they would be taking to Vanessa's Grossman's home and they left the security of the hut one by one. Their timing was excellent -- as Carl left, the vanguard of the second group arrived. The plan was to have 100 men at key locations around Pentworth by 11:30 that night but the task of the second group was to recover the children and return them to their families.

  Most of the police force were manning the cordon therefore the conspirators were not expecting problems in the town. Malone went alone to Vanessa Grossman's house. He took the shortest route so that he was first on the scene fifteen minutes later. The mansion was set back from the road in its own grounds, almost completely surrounded by a screen of leylandii conifers. With the intruder alarm batteries exhausted long ago, the place was a housebreaker's dream. Judging by the lights, the downstairs back room was in use, and a faint glow from around the curtains of an upstairs dormer window was probably a night light in the children's bedroom.

  He waited in the back garden, using his body as a screen from the house for the occasional homing flashes of his torch. Baldock was first, followed by David and then the two stable lads with Carl, all moving silently on the unmown grass as they formed into a group.

  They conferred briefly and went to work. The two stable lads had been using a suitable farmhouse to practice what they did next. One threw a cricket ball right over the house. The ball was attached to a long length of twine. It thumped down on the lawn. The second lad grabbed it and began hauling on the twine that was attached to a rope. There were a few anxious moments when the rope snagged on the roof guttering but a couple of flicks freed it so that the lads finished at each end of a rope that went right over the house. Two jerks each way to confirm that they were ready and they quickly climbed their respective ends of the rope for a rendezvous on the ridge of the roof. The lightest of the lads carried their housebreaking tools in a haversack to equalize the differences in their weight. They gathered up the rope and moved silently to the dormer window that Malone had indicated. A minute's work with a crowbar was all they needed to force the window and enter the house.

  Five minutes passed with agonising slowness before a torch winked three times from the dormer window -- the "mission accomplished" signal. Carl remained on watch in the front garden while Malone, Baldock and David went to the front porch. Baldock produced a double-barrelled sawn-off shotgun from his trousers. David held a powerful halogen lamp ready. He had expressed grave reservations about this stage of the operation but had been persuaded that it was necessary. They stood to one side as Malone rapped the door knocker.

  A light flickered in the hall. A man's voice. `Who's there?'

  `Bernie Harriman -- Vanessa's hubby,' Malone whispered. He said out loud, `Mike Malone to see Miss Grossman. Sorry to trouble you this late in the evening, Mr Harriman, but it's urgent.'

  There was the rattle of a security chain being locked into its slide. The door opened slig
htly and then crashed fully opened with the aid of simultaneous kicks from Baldock and Malone. The three men burst into the house. Bernie Harriman gave an exclamation of surprise and staggered back, blinded by David's lamp. Malone unhurriedly closed the front door. Vanessa should have appeared to see what the commotion was about. Malone slipped quickly into the living room. Two strides and he jerked Vanessa's arm up behind her back as she was about to turn the crank handle on the antique telephone. She whimpered in pain.

  `My temper and your arm are both dangerously close to breaking point, Vanessa,' Malone quietly advised her. `You'll have to take my word for the former, but I've no doubt that you are painfully aware of the latter. Give a nod to indicate your willingness to sit quietly and calmly on that settee and I'll release you. Understand?'

  She nodded. To make his requirements clear, Malone spun her around and thrust her on the settee just as her husband entered the room at the point of Baldock's shotgun. His face was white, his body shaking in a mixture of fear and rage. `They've got the children,' he muttered.

  `Sit beside Vanessa please,' Malone requested.

  Bernie Harriman's answer was to hurl himself dementedly at Malone. Baldock didn't fire. He and Malone had discussed this eventuality and it was decided that Malone should deal with it. The former police officer did just that by stepping nimbly aside. The swing of his arm ended abruptly when the edge of his hand connected with Bernie Harriman's temple. The chop was sufficient to cause him to crumple unconscious onto the carpet. Malone picked him up and heaved him beside his wife who was staring white-faced at the three men. She turned to tend to her husband.

  `There's nothing you can do,' said Malone. `Best leave him. He'll be okay in about ten minutes.'

  `What the hell do you want?'

  `An extra ordinary council meeting,' Baldock answered. `In Government House at midnight tonight. But before then, we wish to restore the status quo. We want a list of the addresses of where Prescott is holding our children.'

  `Evacuees!' Vanessa snapped.

  The answer enraged Baldock. He took a step towards the woman and levelled his shotgun at her. `Don't you play Prescott's fucking semantic games with me, you bitch or, by Christ, you'll be seeing your kids' ears lined-up on that coffee table!'

  Suddenly there was real fear in Vanessa's eyes. `I'm sorry,' she said quietly.

  Baldock moderated his tone. `I'm sorry we have to do this. Miss Grossman. Our argument isn't with you but that bastard, Prescott. Mr Malone thinks you're an efficient operator. It's his opinion that you'd have such a list with you. Any argument from you that the only copy is at Government House is likely to be disbelieved and even more likely to lead to much grief.'

  `The desk by the window,' Vanessa replied listlessly. `In my briefcase.'

  David moved to the desk and tipped out the contents of the briefcase. He found the document immediately. `Eleven names and addresses. Is this it?' He held the paper up.

  Vanessa confirmed that it was. `Two children to each address,' she said. `Mr Prescott wanted to keep brothers and sisters together.'

  `Well that was fucking decent of him,' said Baldock sarcastically. `And before you use the term evacuees again, the kids that were sent to safety in World War II were sent with their parents' consent. What Prescott did yesterday afternoon was kidnapping -- hostage-taking, pure and simple.'

  David went out to the front garden and gave the list to Carl. The young man grinned in triumph as he pocketed it. `Looks like it's all going to plan, Mr Weir.'

  `So far,' said David worriedly. `Break a leg.'

  `Reckon she'll bite?'

  `So it seems, Carl. But I'm not happy about this. It's a dirty business.'

  `It has to be done, Mr Weir.' With that, Carl disappeared into the night to rendezvous with the second group, and David returned to the house. Malone was placing the telephone in front of Vanessa.

  `Just in case you've told the exchange to block calls to this number, I want you to call them and tell them to put all calls through.'

  Vanessa regarded Malone in contempt and told him to do something that was physically difficult, even for Malone. He gave her no second chance but went to the door and called out.

  `Yes, Mr Malone?' answered one of the stable lads from upstairs.

  `Left ear. The eldest.'

  `NO!' Vanessa screamed.

  `Hold on that!' Malone instructed. He returned and stared down at the badly frightened woman. `Call the exchange and tell them to put all calls through to here. Hold the phone away from your ear.'

  Vanessa's hands shook as she held the headphone near her ear and turned the crank handle. An operator answered immediately. `Yes, Miss Grossman?' An elderly woman. Her voice could be heard clearly by everyone in the room.

  `I want you to put all calls through.'

  `How long for, Miss Grossman?'

  `Until further notice.'

  `Very well, Miss Grossman. I go off-duty at midnight so I'll leave a note against your number.'

  `Thank you, operator.'

  `Good night, Miss Grossman.'

  `Good night.' Vanessa replaced the headphone on its hook.

  `There's a lot to be said for a phone system run by human beings,' Malone observed, moving the telephone out of Vanessa's reach. `None of that tedious button-pressing business which I always got wrong.'

  `I want to see my children,' said Vanessa.

  `Of course you do,' said Malone. `But you'll have to wait.’

  `Wait for what?'

  `Until we hear that our kids are safe,' said Baldock simply.

  The three men made themselves comfortable. Not for a second did Baldock allow his attention or his shotgun to falter from Vanessa. Malone admired her composure. He checked that Bernie Harriman was okay when he showed signs of recovering. A decent man from what Malone had learned. He regretted having to hit him.

  `I want to use the toilet,' said Vanessa abruptly.

  `For a pee?' asked Malone.

  `Yes.'

  Malone left the room and returned with a plastic washing-up bowl and some tissues.

  The woman's eyes blazed hatred at Malone. `You expect me to use that with you scum watching?'

  `What we expect and what you need are two different things,' said Malone boredly. `You either use it or wet yourself. But you're not leaving this room.'

  Vanessa's husband stirred. She comforted him as he sat up, holding his head. Malone fetched him a glass of water which he drank greedily.

  `What happens now?' Vanessa asked.

  `We wait,' said Baldock.

  Chapter 81.

  VIKKI...

  Vikki was dozing.

  Vikki...

  The girl's eyes snapped open. She stared up at the roof of the cave, lit softly by the low-wattage bedside lights that Ellen and Claire were reading by.

  Vikki. Can you hear us?

  It was the same voice in her head that she had heard before when it had summonsed her from her bedroom to Pentworth Lake. But it was stronger -- the concepts that formed in her mind as words were much sharper. But Pentworth Lake was not so far from the cave as her bedroom.

  `Yes.' She said it as an almost mute whisper.

  Come to us, Vikki.

  `I can't.'

  The girl was aware of a sensation of puzzlement until she concentrated on her surroundings.

  You are trapped?

  `In a way -- yes.'

  Vikki turned and looked at her companions. Ellen was already dozing off. She switched off her bedside light and muttered a general goodnight. Claire did the same and Vikki was left in the feeble glow of the low-wattage night lamp that provided just enough light for toilet visits and to relieve the frightening totality of the darkness that would otherwise prevail in the cave. It would be at least ten minutes or more before her companions were sound asleep.

  We understand. But you will come to us. He is ready.

  `Yes,' Vikki whispered to the darkness. `I will come.'

  Chapter 82.

  THE
HARSH, DISCORDANT jangle of Vanessa's telephone startled everyone in her living room. Malone glanced at David and Baldock before gesturing to Vanessa for her to answer it. She picked up the headphone and spoke into the horn microphone.

  `Vanessa Grossman speaking.'

  `Miss Grossman,' said the operator. `I have a call for you from the public phone box in Silver Square.'

  `I'll take it,' said Vanessa.

  `You're through, caller -- go ahead.'

  `Miss Grossman?'

  Malone recognised Carl's voice and took the headphone from Vanessa. `Guess who this it?'

  Carl chuckled. `The eaglets have landed. They're all in their home nests. All safe and well.' The wording of his phrase indicated that Carl was not under duress although that was obvious from the jubilation in his voice. `It was just like you said -- none of the keepers was happy with the situation and were pleased to see the goods returned to their owners.'

  `Well done,' said Malone with feeling. He looked at his watch. `We're running late. You've got those councillors to deal with now.'

  `My next calls. They won't take long,' said Carl confidently.

  `Stress that they must all be in the courtroom at Government House by midnight,' said Malone, speaking clearly.

  Carl chuckled again. It was an instruction that he was not required to carry out. `I'll do that. See you there.'

  The line went dead.

  `Right,' said Baldock, eyeing Vanessa dispassionately, leaning his shotgun against his chair. `Now that that little bit of Prescott nastiness has been knocked on the head, we can get down to business in a more civilised manner.'

  `What business, Mr Baldock?'

  `Malone's our honest broker in all this,' he said.

  `So broker away, Mr Malone,' Vanessa invited, feeling that she was gaining a measure of control over this outlandish situation.

  `Firstly,' said Malone, more to Bernie Harriman who was watching him with dulled, listless eyes, `your children are in absolutely no danger and never were. We don't operate like that. The chances are that our two men upstairs are playing snakes and ladders with them.'