“My lips are sealed.”
“You’re missing a kid from Kirkfallen Island.”
“All the children on the island are accounted for, thank you.”
“Not my daughter. She vanished with me fourteen years ago.”
Naish stayed silent but a sick feeling bubbled up in her stomach.
“We escaped to the mainland. The debris the other islanders reported was a ruse.”
“Can you prove this?”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I? It’s been a long time but I’m sure you recognise my voice.”
“Where are you? Where is the girl now?”
“We’re in Disneyland, Naish. I have a job as Mickey Mouse.”
“What are you after, Colin?”
“I want you on Kirkfallen, fast as you can get there.” The voice was quietly forceful. “No excuses. The girl and I will arrive by boat in the morning and I need clearance to moor. And I’d like a copter to airlift a couple of other people to Kirkfallen too.”
Naish forced herself to stay calm. She had to try and stall the person on the other end of the phone.
“Nobody gets clearance to land on the island.”
“Oh, I think you can make an exception.”
“What if we sink the boat? Just to be on the safe side.”
“You’ve only got my word that she’d actually be on it. Might be a decoy.” Colin’s voice turned glacial. “Guess wrong and the little lady will be on a plane under a false name and heading for the USA.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“She’s just turned sixteen now. Do you want to test your experiment in the middle of America’s largest city?”
“I can’t just turn up there without alerting my superiors!” Naish blustered. “They’ll come out with a Goddamned army.”
“Do what you have to do. This girl is due to release what’s inside her pretty soon. You don’t want her to be wandering around Manhattan when she does.”
The sick sensation crept across Naish’s chest.
“I’ll be there.” She almost choked on the words
“Good.” Colin sounded almost cheerful. “I’ll call back once more with a couple more details. You won’t have time to trace this call, by the way.”
“What are you after, Colin?” Naish repeated.
“My daughter and I have been in hiding for fifteen years.” The voice laughed bitterly.
“We want to come home.”
The line went dead. Naish glanced at the men in the corner.
“Where’s he calling from?”
“No idea, ma’am. This guy knows what he’s doing.”
“I want a jet prepared ASAP.” Naish got up and paced the room. “Patch me through to Brigadier Potter at HQ and have him place Radcliff Naval base in the Scottish Hebrides on full alert. Prepare an emergency satellite transmission to Kirkfallen Island.”
Naish ran a hand through her greying hair.
“I have to talk to Edward Stapleton.”
35
Amblin Cottage 2000
Apathy and her father sat in silence, staring into the roaring fire. Now and then Dan sneaked a glance at his daughter, averting his eyes every time she stared back. His hands shook slightly whenever he lifted the glass to his mouth.
“What do we do now?” She took a sip of her own wine.
“There’s a game of Twister in the cupboard.” Her father tried a tentative smile. Apathy understood that he spent his nights with Colin, not some stranger he’d met that day. Even if that stranger happened to be his daughter.
“Eh… dad?” she asked finally. “What are you actually like?”
Dan Salty thought for a while.
“There was a Russian scientist in the 1930’s called Professor Luria,” he replied. “He went to the furthest reaches of Siberia and conducted a survey of the natives. Asked them to describe themselves. This was an area almost untouched by civilization or industry, you understand.”
He took another slurp of wine.
“They would say things like ‘I have four cows’ or ‘I grow potatoes’. Luria persisted, asking what they were like as people. Were they good or bad? Were they happy or sad? But they didn’t really understand the question. They’d simply repeat, ‘I have four cows’. See. This was what was really important to them.”
“Did Colin tell you that?”
“Yeah. More useless information courtesy of the walking encyclopaedia.” Dan leaned back in his chair and looked openly at Apathy for the first time. His expression was one of complete surprise.
“I have a daughter.”
“Is that better than having four cows?”
“Colin was right. You are a firecracker.” Dan gave a sharp laugh. Then his face became blank. “I’ve no idea how to act around you.”
“Do you… love me?”
“I’m not sure.” Dan lowered his eyes. “Do you love me?”
“No,” Apathy replied evenly. “I don’t know you.”
“We should probably have played Twister.”
The teenager shifted awkwardly in her chair
“You… eh… work as a con man.”
“It was Colin’s idea,” her father replied half-heartedly. “We started off doing fake séances. Seemed harmless enough and we didn’t need social security numbers or permits. Colin is a whiz with technology. He put together all this equipment for us to use. Tiny transistor radios and transmitters to make it seem like the dead were in the room. Our clients would hear voices coming from nowhere, see strange images out of the corner of their eyes...”
Dan stopped mid-sentence.
“It’s not very nice, is it?” He sounded as if the notion had crossed his mind for the first time.
“Dad.” Apathy said quietly. “What exactly is inside me?”
Dan poured himself more wine. His bottle was almost empty and his hands trembled. Apathy wondered if it was from nervousness or just the fact that he had consumed so much alcohol. She was vaguely alarmed at how much he was drinking.
“I need to show you something.” He pushed the chair roughly back, strode to the kitchen drawer and pulled out an old instamatic camera.
“I’m going to take your picture.” His hands were still shaking and Apathy realised, with a shock, what was causing the tremors.
Her father was afraid.
He looked through the viewfinder and clicked the shutter. The camera whirred and a small square of plastic slid out of the bottom of the machine.
“This is what’s inside you.”
He thrust the photograph at his daughter.
In the picture, Apathy was seated by the fire, washed by its orange glow. Behind her was a shadowy female figure. She was almost transparent, long dark hair spilling over her face. Her hands were raised, as if in fury, above her head. The nails were long and black, like the talons of a bird of prey. One gleaming eye shone through the lank hair, glistening with unrepressed hatred.
Apathy felt herself go numb.
The girl in the picture was a grotesque caricature of a human being but there was no mistaking its identity.
It was her.
Apathy slowly put the photograph on the table.
“And I’m the only person in the world like this?”
Dan crumpled up the picture into a tight ball and pulled a lighter from his pocket. He lit the plastic square and dropped it into the ashtray.
“Am I?” the teenager insisted.
“Actually, no. There’s an island in the Atlantic called Kirkfallen with a whole bunch of these horrors trapped on it.”
“Like Jurassic Park?”
“I’m not kidding.” Dan watched the sooty flames consume the picture, spiralling into a miniature helix of black smoke. “It’s part of the military project I was mixed up in all those years ago.”
“Can’t you do anything about it? Shouldn’t you tell someone?”
“Yeah. That’ll look plausible.” Dan extinguished the dying flame with a nicotine stained thumb. “Mass murder
er D.B. Salty contacts the authorities and tells them he really didn’t have a choice when he killed all those people. He was just part of top secret experiment that went wrong thirty years ago. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.”
He gave a bark of laughter.
“They really would lock me up and throw away the key.”
“But Colin could back up your story.”
“It would be worse if anyone actually believed us. The first whiff of real suspicion? Your uncle and I would be assassinated and, poof, everything on that island would be gone.”
“So, you aren’t going to do anything?”
“I didn’t say that.” Dan winked at her. “There’s a little secret about Kirkfallen that Colin told me.”
He got up and dropped the camera back into the drawer.
“All the same, I’m not going to risk my family.” He pulled a manila envelope out and showed it to his daughter. “I’ve met some shady characters in my line of work. These are fake passports for you, Col and your mother. You’re going to Canada.”
“But I’m at school here! I can’t just go on holiday.”
“It’s not a holiday.” Dan dropped the envelope on the table. “You’re going there for good. It’s the safest place in the world for you both.”
“I don’t want to go to Canada!”
“It’s a complicated situation,” her father retorted coldly. “I promised to keep my family safe and I intend to do so.”
“But you’re not coming?”
“You stand a much better chance of settling over there if you don’t have a wanted murderer tagging along.”
“This can’t be happening!”
“Baby. I’ve spent most of my life thinking that very thought.”
“My God, you are a sociopath!” Apathy blurted. “All this talk of staying away to protect me and my mum? It’s all crap.”
“Apathy!”
“No. You just didn’t care enough about our feelings to look after us properly! You used your stupid promise to get you out of any real responsibility. You didn’t want the hassle of a wife and child!”
The teenager pushed back her chair and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door. Dan got awkwardly to his feet and followed her. He rested his head against the wood and listened to his daughter weeping.
“Goddammit!” he breathed, marching back into the kitchen, hands balled into fists.
Hearing the creak of a floorboard, he turned.
“What are you doing back?”
Colin stepped forward and punched his friend hard in the stomach.
Dan doubled over, air whooshing from his lungs. Colin stepped round him, demonstrating an agility that belied his size and build. With his other hand he clamped a chloroform filled rag over Dan’s mouth. The larger man slumped unconscious to the floor.
“I’m sorry, D.B.”
Colin pulled Dan from the cottage and into the shed next door. There he laid his friend out on the floor, trying to make his position as comfortable as possible.
“There’s been a change of plan.”
Kirkfallen Island
We tend to think of sociopaths as murderers or serial killers. But though most sociopaths have very little empathy and will cheat and lie without qualm, they do not turn out to be murderers. If they have no good reason to kill, they won’t.
In fact, according to the psychologist Martha Stout, about one in twenty-five individuals living among us can be classed as sociopathic.
36
Kirkfallen Island 2000
Gene, Millar and Poppy were up at dawn. Since it was Saturday, there was no school or chores, but the teenagers had their own task.
The night before, Millar had removed several long pieces of wood from the communal scrap pile, telling the adults it was for repairs to the gang hut. They already had plenty of spare rope and tools left over from building their hideaway.
They hauled the timber out to Pittenhall Ridge in a tractor and trailer. Poppy kept lookout on a nearby hillock while Millar and Gene constructed two ladders by lashing the wood together and nailing on wooden steps. They roped the ends of the ladders to each other to form a loose hinge and, as a finishing touch, stuffed heather and gorse into the rope to camouflage what they’d made. Lying flat on the ground the ladders were almost invisible.
Poppy gave them the all clear and they carried the contraption to the Fence at a point where the barbed wire top had rusted away. Leaning one side against the mesh, they flipped the other over the top so that they could climb down on the Jackson Head side. When they were safely over, they pulled the ladders behind them and laid them on the grass.
The trio made their way over the promontory, keeping a sharp eye open for the holes they had been warned about. After a few minutes they reached the abandoned facility.
It looked like a giant World War II pill box, the concrete blackened by age or, more likely, by fire. Island foliage had already begun to reclaim the structure - grass grew on the top and moss and scrub poked from the walls. The entrance was on the north side, surrounded by scorched concrete pillars. Above was a faded sign that read
MacLellan Research Facility.
But the thick metal door was free of rust or foliage. And it was open.
“Do we really want to go in there?” Poppy tried one last attempt at reason.
“Nope. But it sure looks like we are.” Millar switched on his flashlight and got as far as the entrance. He stopped and took a deep breath. Then he backed away quickly, almost falling over his own feet.
“What are you doing? Dancing?”
“Oh God. I think I have claustrophobia.”
“I’ve known you for fifteen years, you slacker.” Poppy shook her head. “You never mentioned that before.”
“There aren’t any enclosed spaces on Fallen.” Millar’s forehead had broken out in a sweat. “But I’ve never been here.”
“And I thought I was the girl in this trio.” Poppy brushed past him and marched through the doorway.
“I guess you’re right.” Millar ran a nervous tongue over his lips. “If you can fit in there it can’t be too enclosed.”
Even so, it took the teenager several hesitant tries before he could bear to walk into the darkness.
The upper corridors were dark and grimy, foliage pushing its way through cracks in the ceiling. The trio crept silently along the passageways, shining their torches into doorways. Millar was breathing in short ragged bursts.
“Calm down, will you?” Poppy spread her arms wide. “It’s a corridor, not a rabbit warren. I can’t even touch the walls.”
“It’s still the narrowest thing I’ve ever been in,” Millar whispered. “And it’s dark!”
They reached a stairwell and descended, Millar whimpering softly. Another corridor stretched into the darkness and a flight of stairs headed into the depths.
“Maybe we should split up to cover more ground,” Gene suggested.
“Maybe you should have your head examined,” Millar squeaked.
“You should take a peek in this room.” Poppy shone her flashlight through the nearest doorway.
The teenagers gathered round to see what she was looking at.
The room was larger than the others. A blackened plaque on the door read Ready Room 4 and a large table sat in the centre with chairs around it. Scorched metal cabinets lined one side and a cheap clock hung on one wall.
“Notice something unusual? Everything in this base is supposed to be burned up, right?”
“Yeah. My dad said the place was destroyed by an explosion. You can still see black marks on the walls.”
“But the table and chairs are fine,” Millar said. “And look at the time.”
The children concentrated their flashlights on the clock. They could see the second hand moving.
“That’s battery operated,” Poppy volunteered. “My parents have one just like it.”
“No battery lasts for sixteen years.” Millar turned to his companions, his eyes wide.
“Jesus guys. This place is still being used!”
37
Kirkfallen Island 2000
“We have to go deeper.” Gene swung his flashlight towards the stairs. There are more levels.”
“Have you lost your senses?” Millar’s face was hidden by shadow but his tone of voice admirably conveyed his distress. “We don’t know what’s down there.”
“That’s kind of the point. If we knew what was below us we wouldn’t have to go look.”
“If I go any deeper, I’m gonna have a hairy fit!”
“I’m with Millar on this one.” Poppy was still shining his flashlight around Ready Room 4. “If someone’s using this place, they might catch us here.”
“Don’t you want to know what’s going on?”
“I’m curious as hell now, but I am not going further underground!” Millar patted his chest in distress. “Makes me ill just thinking of it.”
“Then I’ll go myself.” Gene stuck out his chest and made for the stairs.
“Don’t be stupid,” Poppy blocked his way. “We can’t leave without you. We’d have to remove the ladder and you’d be stuck.”
“Then wait if you like, but I need to see what’s down there.”
“What’s gotten into you, buddy?” Millar joined Poppy’s human barricade. “I really think it’s time we asked our parents?”
“Then they’ll know we’ve been here, genius.” Gene tried to push past his friends. “You have to believe me. The clue to what’s wrong with Fallen is tied up with this base.”
Poppy looked quizzically at her agitated friend.
“What exactly do you know that we don’t, Gene?”
The teenager gave a groan. He had to tell his friends something.
“I overheard my parents having a completely weird conversation last night,” he said. “It didn’t make much sense, but they were talking about sacrificing kids.”
“Yeah, right!” Millar almost choked. “I’m tired of eating turnips too, but we’re not living in the middle ages.”
“Give it ten minutes, that’s all I ask. There’s a nice clock on the wall there so you can time me.”
The Kirkfallen Stopwatch Page 12
