The House on Willow Lane (Secret Gateways Book 1)

by John Moralee

  “In ten minutes,” the man said. “May I ask before I leave how is your research progressing?”

  “My discoveries are in the enclosed documents. They are written on flash paper, as usual, so if they fall into the wrong hands, they will be utterly worthless.” Flash paper was something spies used, Saffron recalled. She’d read about it in a John Le Carre novel. Flash paper would burn up very quickly if the briefcase was opened without the right combination. By his tone, she believed Ravencroft was telling the bearded man not to even think about opening the briefcase.

  They were not close friends.

  They strode by her, moving with a purpose. Curious to hear more of what they were talking about, Saffron pursued them very quietly, moving from pillar to pillar. She knew that she was taking a risk because they might see her if they looked around – but she judged the risk worth it if it meant learning how the bearded man was involved with Ravencroft. Was he an accomplice in the kidnapping of the girl? His beard certainly made him appear shifty. It didn’t look real. Like a disguise.

  The two men were walking up the stairs towards the concourse. Their voices carried down to her. The tunnel helped her hear them.

  “About the project,” the bearded man was saying, “I’m just interested in knowing how long it will take. Can’t you tell me?”

  “You know the rules, Vladimir. I won’t discuss anything about it. The risk is too great if you are caught by our enemies.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry for asking. It’s just that I wish I could be more than a courier. I feel like a – how do you say? – a fifth wheel.”

  “What you do is important,” Ravencroft said. “Guard that briefcase with your life.”

  “You know I will,” Vladimir said.

  They reached the top of the stairs. They stopped. They shook hands. Ravencroft kept on his glove. “Until next time - goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, comrade.”

  The bearded man walked off down the concourse and Ravencroft walked towards the station’s exit. Saffron crept up the rest of the stairs a few seconds later.

  Now there was a ticket inspector on duty asking people for their tickets as they passed him. As Ravencroft approached the ticket inspector, Saffron saw him take off a glove and, when the inspector asked for his ticket, Ravencroft touched the man’s hand.

  Suddenly, a pain registered on the ticket inspector’s face, then, just as quickly, the pained expression became blank like he was in a trance. Ravencroft spoke to him, then walked on.

  The inspector stood frozen like a statue.

  The next person in line was an elderly woman. She was waiting for him to look at her ticket. When he did nothing, she waved her ticket in his face. That snapped him out of his trance. The inspector blinked and grinned stupidly, resuming his job as though nothing had happened.

  Saffron had seen the same smile on Ryan’s and Rachel’s faces when they came out of Ravencroft’s house.

  Instant brainwashing.

  So, that was why he didn’t buy a ticket.

  He didn’t need one.

  Unfortunately, Saffron didn’t have the same ability. How was she going to sneak out of the station without a ticket?

  She removed her hood, which helped her look less like a fare dodger. Then she casually walked towards the gateway behind a group of men and women, hoping he would not stop her if she was with so many others. The inspector couldn’t check every ticket without causing a massive queue. She sneaked up to a woman and made it look like she was with her. She stood right beside the woman, hoping the inspector would not even notice her. The woman went through and she followed. She was almost past when the inspector blocked her exit.

  “Ticket, please.”

  Only a ticket inspector could turn a simple request into a menacing threat.

  “My mum’s got it,” she said. “That’s her.”

  She pointed at the woman who was now leaving the station.

  The inspector didn’t take his eyes off her. “Ticket, please.”

  “Mum!” she said. “She’s coming back! See!”

  The man looked around. Before he saw nobody was coming, Saffron slipped around him and sprinted for the exit.

  “You!” he cried out. “Stop!”

  She didn’t slow down. She didn’t look back. People looked at her, but nobody tried to stop her. They were probably afraid she was armed with a knife. She dodged around people until she was at the doors. A young man had just come in. He looked startled when he saw her running towards him. She swerved around him, apologising for bumping into his arm. The doors were closing when she slipped between them.

  Outside, Saffron looked back and saw the ticket inspector on his radio. He was probably calling the police. She was prepared to run across the busy road - but she saw Ravencroft had not gone that way.

  He had got inside a taxi, which was moving off.

  A taxi! It would only take a couple of minutes for him to get home! She had to warn Ryan he was coming. But she still couldn’t get him on her phone. Piece of junk! There was another taxi waiting. She ran to it.

  *

  A massive glass and metal tank took up most of the cavernous freezing-cold cellar. Ultra-violet lights lit it from above, giving the whole room a sinister “radioactive” glow. Ryan had last seen something like the tank when he visited Hobley’s Aquarium some summers ago. There he’d seen a huge glass tank holding a couple of hammerhead sharks, but this tank was ten times larger. It could comfortably hold a whale. The tank was connected to a number of metal pipes criss-crossing the ceiling. They linked to the tank and some kind of machine next to it. The machine made an ominous low hum he could feel in his bones. It looked like a boiler except its function seemed to be the opposite, to cool down the tank, because a temperature gauge on the side showed –25 C.

  Inside the tank was what looked like a huge block of algae-green ice. At first he thought it was completely solid all the way through ... but something was moving about deep inside – something black and wriggling like an eel.

  Upstairs, he had switched on some lights above the tank, which had probably woken up whatever was inside, because the thing or things were moving around quite violently, making the surface churn like it was boiling. The tank was nearly filled to the very top - but there was a gap where water and ice sloshed against the sides. The colour of the water made him think of a huge glass of lime and lemon with ice cubes in it. After a minute or two, the surface became calm. Ice formed more or less immediately, like on the surface of a pond in winter.

  Getting over his initial shock, Ryan edged into the room because there could be other exits on the other side of the tank. Slowly, he stepped closer to the tank for a better look. He could no longer see anything in the murky green water. He had the uncomfortable feeling he was being watched, though. Reassuringly, the glass looked several inches thick. It was coated with ice on both sides.

  That was when it slammed against the glass just a few inches from his face.

  He jerked backwards, yelling like a madman.

  Just for a second he had seen what it was.

  It wasn’t an ordinary eel.

  It was something too ugly, too grotesque to be real.

  In his worst childhood nightmares, Ryan had never seen anything so monstrous. He had glimpsed the creature’s head as it butted against the glass. The mirror-black eyes. The rows and rows of sharp, barbed teeth, snapping and snapping. A black, fluted tongue, licking the glass. The head had only been the size of a boxer’s fist, but its eyes had given him the impression the thing was an intelligent predator and saw him as its next meal. When its hard black skull thudded against the glass, he had expected the glass to crack. He had imagined tonnes of ice and water pouring out as the thing plunged towards his face, ripping away his flesh.

  Somehow, the glass didn’t break.

  Just as quickly as it had appeared, the thing swam away, its tail flicking against the glass, knocking ice onto the floor by his feet.

  Ryan’s he
art began beating again and he remembered how to breathe. Until he had his breathing under control, he stayed very still, not wanting to anger it into attacking a second time. When it didn’t return for another go at him, he crept all of way along the brick wall to the corner, keeping as much distance as possible between himself and the tank. Not wanting to stay in the cellar a second more than necessary, Ryan went around the tank making absolutely certain there were no doors or other exits. There was just the tank, the machine and the eel-like creature.

  He made his way back to the curtained archway before he died of hypothermia.

  Just as he was leaving, the eel-like thing’s head slammed up against the glass again.

  Eyes glaring. Teeth snapping.

  “Nice try,” he said to it.

  The false bravado didn’t fool the creature.

  It head-butted the glass, thrashing up the water with its tail.

  Ryan was sure it wanted to eat him,.

  The creature kept banging its head against the glass.

  He took a picture before getting out of there.

  *

  Saffron jumped in the back of the taxi. She caught the driver on a break having a cigarette.

  “Willow Lane, please.”

  The driver was a short balding man wearing a well-worn leather jacket. He looked around, looking surprised to see a kid in his vehicle. He reminded her a little of the actor Bob Hoskins. He extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray.

  “Just you?” he said.

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “I have the money.”

  She showed the money in her purse – about ten pounds in coins.

  “Fair enough,” he said. He started up the engine. “Willow Lane, huh?”

  “That’s right,” she said.

  She could see Ravencroft’s taxi was already some distance away.

  “Can you hurry, please? I’d really appreciate it if you could beat that other taxi.”

  “Sorry, I don’t race,” the man said. “What’s the rush, anyway?”

  “The thing is ... that’s my father in the other taxi.”

  “Your father ...?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He mustn’t find out I’m not home right now. You see, I kind of pretended to be sick today because I wanted to get my mum a birthday present. My parents are divorced and my dad doesn’t like my mum – he blames her for leaving him - so I sort of had to sneak out when I was supposed to be ill in bed. He’ll kill me if he finds out where I’ve been. He’ll make me take back her present, too – or he’ll flush it down the toilet.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen,” she said, adding years to her age because her real age of twelve would probably alarm him. She knew most adults were hopeless at guessing the age of children.

  “Tough age,” he commented. “Me, I hated my teens. Rebel without a clue, that was me. Your parents got divorced, huh?”

  “Yes,” she lied, looking very, very sad.

  “How long ago?”

  “Three years,” she said. She let herself sniffle, as though about to cry. “I just wanted to get my mum something nice. I love her so much.”

  The driver grinned like he understood. “Don’t cry. I’ll see what I can do.”

  *

  The eel-thing had disturbed Ryan, but he didn’t let it distract him. Ryan had thoroughly searched the entire house top to bottom, but he wasn’t going to give up until he found the girl, dead or alive.

  “Where are you?” he asked the silent hall. “Are there some secret passages?”

  He doubted it. He had already tested the walls listening for changes in the sound, indicative of secret doors. No rooms seemed too small, like they contained hidden compartments. He could have missed one, but he’d never know.

  Where was the girl?

  What if she had been fed to the thing in the tank as bait?

  No, he didn’t want to believe that.

  She had to be alive.

  Somewhere.

  Where?

  He didn’t know.

  Where had he not looked?

  He had looked in every single room in the house.

  “In the house ...”

  The answered dawned on him.

  *

  Saffron’s taxi was gaining on the other one, but she wasn’t going to pass it without a miracle, like her driver turning out to be Indianapolis 500 winner. She was several cars behind. Ahead, the other taxi was coming up to a roundabout. The lights were green.

  She willed them to change to red.

  And they did.

  Red. Blessed red.

  Stop!

  Ravencroft’s taxi stopped, allowing her driver to catch up in the other lane. He pulled up alongside the other taxi, waiting for the lights to change. She could see Ravencroft ten feet away, staring ahead. He hadn’t yet noticed her ... but if he turned his head? She slid down and covered her face with her hand while sneakily looking at him.

  Her driver looked over at the passenger in the other taxi.

  “So that’s your father?” he said.

  “Yes,” she lied.

  “He looks like a strict man,” the driver said.

  “He is,” she said. “Very.” She thought of the girl as she added: “He won’t even let even me speak to my mum on the phone because he’s got full custody. He thinks he has to control everything I do.”

  “My father was like that. Used to belt me for no good reason. I hated him. I need a licence to drive this taxi, but you don’t need a licence to be a parent. It’s not right. I blame the government. They should bring in some new laws.”

  She nodded, which pleased him.

  Secretly, she felt badly about making up so many lies. She hated lying to people.

  When the lights changed, her driver took the lead. Ravencroft’s taxi fell behind. She felt like reaching over the seat to hug her driver. He had done it. She was ahead. The distance between them was growing with every second, but would she be far enough ahead by the time she reached her destination?

  Come on, come one, she thought, willing her driver to speed up. He was already over the speed limit, but he wasn’t driving like her dad, who only believed there was one rule to driving: Don’t get caught on a speed camera.

  She could see the turn leading to Willow Lane.

  Looking back, her heart sank when she saw the other taxi only a few hundred metres behind.

  *

  Ryan left the kitchen by stepping over the broken glass out into the cold fresh air. The greenhouse was the only place he had not looked. If she wasn’t in there, he had truly run out of ideas. It was his last best hope of finding her. The entrance was straight ahead. He wished he had looked inside before going into the house, but hindsight was something everyone wished for, wasn’t it?

  Quickly, he crossed to it. The door wasn’t locked. He turned the handle. When he pushed it inwards, hot, humid air rolled out. It felt like a sauna. He could barely see anything for the cloud of vapour forming where hot moist air hit cold dry air.

  Wasting no more time, he stepped inside.

  And he was amazed by what he saw.

  *

  Finally, Willow Lane. Saffron could see the house on the hill, but she couldn’t see Ryan waiting for her across the street, where they had pre-arranged. That meant he was still inside. She tried her phone again. This time it did get through to his phone ... but this time Ryan didn’t answer it. That seemed worse than no signal. Why wasn’t he answering?

  Looking back, she couldn’t see the other taxi. Not yet.

  “Which house?” her driver wanted to know.

  “The one with the big gates.”

  He stopped outside it. The meter displayed £3.80. She handed him five pounds. “Thanks a lot, sir. Keep the change.”

  “This is too much,” he said.

  “No, just take it.”

  “Well, thanks. I hope your mum appreciates your present.”

  “She will,” she said. She stepped out, shut the door and waved
him goodbye. The taxi pulled away. As it was turning at the corner, she looked down the road. The other taxi hadn’t appeared yet. She hoped it was stuck behind traffic.

  It wouldn’t be long, though.

  She ran to the gates and pressed her head between the wrought-iron bars. She shouted Ryan’s name as loud as possible, not caring who heard her. The shout hurt her throat.

  “RYYYYYAAAAAAAAAN!”

  When he didn’t answer, she raced around to the rear, where she found a wheelie bin against the wall, like they had planned. She scrambled up onto it. Next, she managed to climb over the wall and drop to the other side without even looking at what she was going to land on.

  Her legs hit the ground and buckled, pain shooting up to her hips. Her blonde hair fell over her face. She picked herself up and flicked her hair back with a hand. She saw blood on her fingers. Some gravel had cut her palm. For the first time, she saw the greenhouse. Turning her head, she could also see the open door of the kitchen. She half-ran, half-limped to it and stopped at the broken glass.

  “RYAN!” she shouted into the house. “HE’S COMING!”

  He answered with a muffled shout. It sounded like the words, “OVER HERE!” or “I’M HERE!”

  It was from behind her.

  The greenhouse.

  She spun around and saw the door of the greenhouse was slightly open. For a second Ryan was there, beckoning her. His eyes were bugging. He looked very excited. Then he disappeared back inside. She went after him. “Ryan, what are you doing? He’s coming! Why didn’t you answer you phone? Ryan?”

  “Look!” he said from somewhere inside. “I found her!”

  Saffron couldn’t see anything when she stepped into the greenhouse. The interior of the greenhouse was so saturated by bright light that it hurt her eyes. It seemed as though the entire power of the sun had been focused through the glass directly into her retinas, burning them out. She was blinded by it until she blocked her eyes with her hand and blinked away tears. Then she could just about see through the gaps between her fingers.