Darker

by Simon Clark

  He’d been terrified of it. But he had confronted that fear and got through the experience. In fact, it had awakened some hidden aspect of himself. He’d felt more grown-up after meeting that fear head-on and beating it.

  Just a week after the funeral he and Steve Gossman had gone into town by themselves and sneaked into the cinema to see a Dracula double bill. They’d never done that before. But now he felt as if he was mature enough to take on new challenges.

  Now came the biggest challenge of his life.

  A road sign said: TEMPORARY TRAFFIC LIGHTS. 500 YARDS.

  He must make the decision now.

  If it was the right one, he and Rosemary would live.

  The wrong one, they’d be dead within the next forty-five seconds.

  Chapter 75

  The Hit

  Richard knew what he had to do.

  If he was to have any chance at all he had to kill the hit men on the motorbike.

  That wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do. They were professionals. They must know every trick in the book.

  He eased off slightly on the accelerator, dropping the speed down to forty. It couldn’t be more than four hundred yards to the traffic lights at the roadworks.

  The road ahead curved to the left. The lights probably wouldn’t be much beyond that bend.

  He glanced back. The bike still sat back a hundred yards behind, two cars and a bus between him and the bike. When they rounded the bend ahead for a few seconds, the men on the bike would loose sight of them anyway.

  ‘Rosemary.’ He licked his dry lips. ‘When I say “down” take off your seatbelt and crouch down on the floor.’

  Her voice, although small, was trusting. ‘OK.’

  He swallowed. Christ, this isn’t going to work. He wished he were anywhere but here.

  The road curved gradually to the left; he glanced quickly from rearview mirror to road. When the motorbike disappeared behind the curve of the road behind him he said:

  ‘Down.’

  He followed a line of traffic. Ahead he could see the road works. His arms tensed. Rosemary shrugged off the seatbelt and crouched on the floor in the well beneath the dashboard where the passenger’s legs rested.

  A baker’s delivery van approached head-on.

  He braked savagely and U-turned the car in the road, tyres screeching. A driver sounded his horn.

  ‘Christ!’ Rosemary cried, looking up at him from the car floor.

  Now he was following the baker’s van back the way they had come. Still the bike hadn’t rounded the corner. He accelerated until he was just an arm’s length from the back end of the baker’s van. With luck it would hide them just long enough for what he’d do next.

  What would he do next?

  The sudden temptation came simply to hang on to the tail of the van, hope the assassins wouldn’t notice them and keep on riding.

  But he knew that was impossible. They couldn’t miss seeing them. And when they came speeding after them and the pillion passenger drew the handgun, he wouldn’t miss when he fired.

  The van ambled along at thirty-five. Around the corner came the bus behind which the motorbike cruised. Richard saw the man riding the bike look up.

  He’d noticed straight away that Richard’s Volvo was no longer in front of him. Richard eased the car nearer to the kerb, trying to put the van between him and the bike.

  He only needed the rider not to notice him for another three seconds.

  He gripped the steering wheel. His teeth clenched. His concentration nailed to the road ahead.

  Keep focused, he thought. Don’t let it slip. Here he comes; Jesus, here he comes …

  The rider eased the bike out past the bus, perhaps guessing their prey had tried to make a run for it. The bike accelerated savagely. Richard saw its front wheel lift clear of the Tarmac.

  Do it, the voice yelled in his head – DO IT!

  NOW!

  As the bike overtook the bus, engine screaming, Richard yanked the steering wheel hard, stamped the accelerator. The car surged forward, overtaking the baker’s van.

  The bike, overtaking the bus, came head-on. But Richard was overtaking, too, filling the gap between bus and van. There was nowhere to go but forwards.

  Richard watched with feelings of horror and a fatal curiosity as the bike seemed to glide in slow motion towards them.

  There was nothing the biker could do. He saw, too, that he was speeding head-on towards the car. No way back, no way left, no way right.

  Richard saw the man’s head jerk up in surprise.

  Yes, you know who I am now, Richard thought with a wild surge of satisfaction. You know who I am! YOU KNOW WHO …

  The impact was tremendous.

  The sound of the crash blasted through the car, through his head and into eternity.

  This image burned into his brain: the front wheel of the bike hitting the front bumper of the Volvo, the force whipping the back end of the bike up into the air so it went somersaulting clear of the car roof to land in the road behind. The pillion rider went with it in a lazy somersault. The man hit the road at seventy miles an hour, bouncing like a rubber ball in a straggling mess of breaking arms and legs to roll under the wheels of a passing car.

  Next an explosion.

  The windscreen flashed white as if drenched with milk.

  Then the laminated glass ripped inward in a single piece.

  Dimly he realized Rosemary was screaming.

  He shut it out; the wind blasted into his face; horns sounded; he focused on keeping the car on the road.

  He yanked the car into another skidding U-turn. Then hammered that great chunk of steel and rubber and hammering pistons back the way they’d come. He weaved round the mangled Honda; around the baker’s van; around the torn wreck of a thing that had once been the pillion rider.

  Where the rider of the bike had gone, God alone knew. Probably thrown fifty yards into someone’s front garden.

  Chapter 76

  Preparations

  Michael said: ‘We haven’t much time.’

  The tension in his voice sent a rash of shivers down Joey’s spine. As he followed Michael out of the walled garden and on to the path that led around the house, he looked across the meadows as if fully expecting to see some huge shadow-beast come striding across the horizon.

  Joey almost needed to jog to keep up with Michael. ‘Michael … Michael … you sure this is going to be OK?’

  ‘Everything’s going to be fine, Joey.’

  Joey sensed the man’s confidence. Christ, he hoped it was well placed.

  ‘Where’s Christine and Amy?’ he asked.

  ‘In the car, out front.’

  ‘Maybe I should join them.’

  ‘Not yet, Joey. I’ll need your help in a minute.’

  Christ, he should be in the car, just in case all this went pear-shaped. What could he do? Sweat dribbled down Joey’s chest beneath his shirt.

  ‘Whereabouts are they, exactly?’ Joey wiped the sweat from his eyes. ‘If this goes wrong again, I need —’

  ‘Oh, Joey, ye of little faith.’ Michael shot Joey a caring smile. ‘They’re in the red Ford by the stables. Now, don’t worry, we’ve plenty of time.’

  Joey felt uneasy. He wasn’t sure why. Did he believe what Michael told him? Were Christine and Amy sitting patiently in the car ready to run again? Would that thing run amok and start rolling across that huge house like a road roller?

  He wiped his dry lips. Christ, a drink. Brandy, vodka, anything, but he needed one now.

  They were now at the back of the house. Half a dozen members of the research team were there, rushing backwards and forwards, carrying files and walkie-talkies. They all had their jobs to do and as far as Joey could tell they were doing them efficiently.

  Michael headed for the raised terrace, stopping twice en route to give orders.

  Joey looked uneasily across at the horizon where the setting sun now dropped in a crimson splash of flame.

 
‘Michael …’ Shit: Joey felt fear eating into him. ‘Michael. Which direction will it come from?’

  Michael pointed. ‘See those two clumps of trees on the hill? Over there, about half a mile away?’

  Joey nodded, mouth dry.

  ‘It’ll come through that gap in the trees – straight through like an express train.’

  Joey’s eyes swivelled in the direction Michael pointed. The setting sun seemed to be sinking into the hundred-yard gap between the two clumps of woodland. Hell, it all seemed too close for comfort.

  ‘Then,’ Michael continued, ‘it’ll roll down the grass fields to the lake at the bottom, down there; then up this side, up through the field where those deer are grazing, through the fence, up this lawn. Then right up to the terrace.’

  ‘Hell …’ Joey breathed out. ‘And that’s … where you and it come together again?’

  ‘In that symbiotic relationship. Yes. And all that happens in just a shade under forty minutes.’

  ‘But it’s not even eight yet. You said nine.’

  ‘So it’s going to be early, Joey. Sooner we get it over and done with the better, eh?’

  Joey nodded quickly.

  ‘Come up to the terrace. We’re just finalizing the arrangement … Tina, you’ve got the spare power packs for the laptop, just in case?’

  Michael moved off like a commanding officer giving orders to his troops just before the battle.

  Joey stepped on to the terrace, his eyes big with astonishment at its transformation.

  In the softening light of the setting sun he looked around the terrace. As big as a pair of tennis courts, it adjoined the back of the house where a set of large french windows opened on to it.

  The terrace itself was paved with stone slabs and ran at waist height above the lawn that surrounded it on three sides. Along the perimeter of the terrace ran a low stone wall, topped here and there with stone urns that contained red and yellow flowers. The wall fronting the terrace opened to a flight of stone steps that led down to the lawn itself.

  Joey saw that Michael’s staff had cleared the terrace of the usual patio furniture. Now it was bare, apart from a long wooden table that had been brought from the dining room. That stood in the centre of the terrace. Big enough to seat thirty people, it had a solitary straight-backed chair so whoever was seated at the table would look down across the lawns to the lake and the hill-side beyond with its two clumps of trees.

  Joey found it hard to take his eyes from the trees now. Nevertheless, he forced himself to look back at the terrace, trying not to imagine what would soon be darkly approaching.

  The table itself was bare apart from a laptop computer. Even from here he could see the blue illuminated screen and columns of white text.

  Between the table and the steps that led down to the lawn stood a carefully positioned armchair, angled slightly towards the clumps of trees on the hill. Anyone sitting in it would be able to look towards that hill and still talk to whoever sat at the table without awkwardly twisting round.

  There were too many questions oozing round Joey’s head. He was scared, sure; but there was more than that. He began to suspect that Michael was keeping him in the dark.

  ‘Who’s going to sit there?’ He nodded at the chair as Michael walked by, carrying an open document file. ‘I thought you were going to be here alone when —’

  ‘Just a moment, Joey. I’m just having a last run-through with the team.’

  Michael, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, sat at the table, keying commands into the laptop, his eyes glued to the screen. A dozen men and women split into two groups to stand at each side of him, leaning towards him to see the screen. For all the world it looked like the painting of Christ and the Last Supper, with the Disciples at the long table, leaning towards Him to fasten on to every word He spoke.

  Joey looked anxiously toward the horizon. Sunset would be early because of the hills. Streaks of high cloud as red as blood looked like claw marks torn across the sky. Behind him, the windows of the house turned that same deep red.

  Joey shivered. The minutes were ticking away.

  Christ, I should be in the car with Chrissie and Amy. Maybe if I go to the car I won’t be missed. I can sit in the driving seat. Maybe with the engine idling.

  Maybe …

  The idea hit hard, taking him by surprise.

  Jesus, yes. Maybe I can just drive out of here, taking Chrissie and Amy with me.

  That’s what his sister wanted. He wiped the sweat from his nose. Unease now mixing with guilt. He felt convinced he’d done the right thing, telling Michael about Christine’s plan to escape. If she’d been running across those fields with Amy, hand in hand, and that thing had come rolling across the fields, they’d be dead.

  That’s right, he thought trying to convince himself he’d done the right thing. You’ve saved the life of your sister and your niece by telling Michael.

  Michael’s voice startled him.

  ‘Joey.’

  ‘What’s wrong? Is it here?’

  ‘No, we’ve plenty of time.’

  ‘You want me to go to the car?’

  ‘Soon, Joey. First I’ve got something important to show you.’

  Chapter 77

  Off Road

  ‘Hell … if I’m not careful this is going to end in disaster.’

  Richard passed an old white milestone at the side of the road. SPA CROFT 3 MILES.

  ‘Richard. It’ll be OK.’ Rosemary’s voice was gentle and reassuring.

  ‘We can’t be certain that those guys were alone. There could be another pair of them on a bike around the next corner.’

  ‘We’ll handle it,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Will we?’ He was still shaking from head to toe. ‘I think we were just lucky that time.’

  ‘Hold on, Richard. We’re nearly there.’

  He looked out through the open windscreen, scanning the road ahead. Nothing but the odd oncoming car. But who knew who the occupants were. That red van approaching now. Maybe its driver cradled a sawn-off shotgun on his lap, waiting until he was close enough to …

  The van passed by.

  Richard looked back quickly through the rearview mirror.

  He’s going to U-turn, thought Richard, heart drumming. He’s going to come after us.

  The van kept on going.

  He glanced at Rosemary.

  Without speaking, her eyes met his; her long hair rippled in the air blasting in through where the windscreen had been.

  A motorbike roared by.

  Richard almost cried out. But it carried on speeding away into the distance.

  Richard made a decision. ‘This’s close enough.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘See these woods? They go for miles. And if I remember rightly they’re criss-crossed with trackways.’ He peeled off to the right, driving hard along a dirt lane that took them deep into the wood.

  ‘You know this area, then?’

  ‘I used to come up here years ago. Just pray my instinct for direction holds out.’

  The tracks were baked concrete-hard by the summer sun. What they weren’t were flat and the car jolted violently over the ruts.

  ‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘This isn’t going to be a comfortable ride.’

  The car bumped along; occasionally the underside would scrape the track when dropping down into a particularly deep rut.

  ‘Thank God for Volvo,’ Richard said grimly, ‘they build cars to last.’

  Hitting the bike head-on hadn’t done as much damage to the car as he would have imagined. The bonnet curved in slightly where the hit man had slammed into it; the windscreen was gone, of course. The real damage seemed to be to the car’s steering. The car had taken a heck of a whack in the front end; probably the tracking had been knocked out; now even on the smoother sections of track the car pulled to the left and Richard had to keep compensating so they didn’t end up wrapping themselves around a tree trunk.

  How
far to Darlington House? Maybe another two miles?

  But maybe cutting through the woods was a mistake. The trees closed in so much he couldn’t see any landmarks. Just hundreds of damn’, trees. For all he knew he might be driving away from Darlington House. After all he’d never set eyes on the place before.

  Damn.

  A grey-haired woman walking her dog was slap in the middle of the track.

  Not slowing he slung the car to the right of her, crashing through the bushes at the edge of the track.

  He glanced at Rosemary. She looked calm, eyes on the woodland track ahead. She trusted him; and he could almost feel her willing him to find a way through the wood.

  ‘Joey. This way. I’ve got something for you.’

  Joey followed Michael across the terrace, then down to the path where the motorbike stood.

  Joey licked his dry lips and nodded at the bike. ‘For the quick getaway if anything goes wrong.’

  Michael smiled. ‘Believe me, Joey, it won’t go wrong. We’ve cracked the Codex Alexander.’

  ‘Why the bike, then?’

  ‘We’re going for a ride. Don’t worry, Joey, you won’t fall off.’

  ‘But where —’

  ‘Hop on, Joey. I’m going to show you something … don’t bother about the helmets, we’re not going far.’

  Joey, shaking his head, puzzled, climbed on to the pillion behind Michael. Michael revved the bike lightly and kicked off.

  Shouldn’t Michael be back on the terrace making preparations? What was so important that he had to show it to Joey now? Joey repeatedly looked across the lake to where the two clumps of woodlands bulged from the hillside. The setting sun actually seemed to rest in the cleft between them.

  Christ, he wanted out of this. He didn’t know if his heart could take any more. And why the hell was Michael taking him down here?

  ‘First stop,’ Michael said almost lightly as he pulled up by the boathouse.

  Joey looked up at him as he climbed off the bike. The man actually seemed to be getting a kick out of this. Yeah, there was tension there, too, but Joey sensed the man’s excitement.

  ‘Don’t hang about, Joey. We haven’t much time.’