The Sand Men

by Christopher Fowler

  ‘Dean wasn’t there.’

  ‘That’s not the point. They know just how much they can get away with, but you have to be more careful. Answer me truthfully. You didn’t steal the chain, did you?

  ‘No, of course not!’ Cara was indignant.

  ‘You can’t just think about yourself. If you’d been arrested and charged, imagine what it would have done to your father. You could have put his career at risk.’

  ‘And what about me?’ Cara turned to her, flushing red. ‘What about my future? You pulled me out of my old school, then after a couple of years you’re going to shift me around again. For what? So that Dad can help build a fucking amusement park for the super-rich! Did you ever think what I had to tell my friends when I left, how humiliating that was?’

  ‘Go to your room,’ Lea warned. ‘Roy can deal with you when he gets home. I will not be sworn at in my own home.’

  ‘This isn’t even your house, it goes back to the corporation on the day you leave and a month later some other stooge family will be in here.’ Cara stamped off to her quarters.

  What made her so angry was feeling that at some level Cara was right.

  Roy was late home, having dealt with the fallout from a narrowly averted strike after new shifts were announced to workers. Lea listened patiently, commenting where she could. She wanted to tell Roy about Cara’s arrest, but was wary of opening up subjects that would not be shut away so easily.

  Roy refused dinner, explaining that he’d ordered a takeout earlier, and fell asleep fully dressed on the couch, where it felt kinder to leave him dozing before ancient CSI reruns rather than rouse him for bed.

  Lea sat in the upstairs window overlooking the deserted street, and read for a while, but she had drunk the best part of a bottle of Vivanco, and could no longer concentrate.

  She awoke in her chair with the Persian book in her lap, trying to recall the retreating tendrils of a dream. It scurried away, vanishing beneath the warm streets, behind the artificial hedges. Within it was something dank and malignant, an impassive rock-grey monster. And now that she had found a connection between the accidents, Lea knew it was the enemy she’d have to face.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Desert

  EARLY THE NEXT day, Rachel Larvin rose ahead of her sleeping family, dressed in cream shorts, a long-sleeved khaki shirt and hiking boots, and packed her bag.

  She took bottles of water, salt tablets, a cold lunch, a swimsuit and a spare shirt, then set off in her son Ben’s luxury BMW 4X4. Once a month she headed out into the hinterlands, just past the Desert Hideaway Hotel, where hawk trainers staged displays for tourists. She usually stopped for a cocktail and a swim in their deserted pool, then drove for a further hour to the edge of the desert.

  It was always too hot to leave the vehicle there, but she had discovered an empty spot where there was nothing to see but an undulating horizon of coral sand and the painted aquamarine backdrop of the sky. The sight of it always brought peace, giving her the freedom to contemplate her life. She found the process more therapeutic than going to one of the overpriced coastal spas. She disapproved of having to put a price on what she felt should be the most natural of pleasures.

  As a child of wealthy liberals on New York’s Upper East Side, Rachel had always enjoyed the run of the city, and the uniformity of life here subdued her. Ben tried to keep her happy, but as much as she loved her family she sometimes needed to be free of them. And today she needed to think carefully.

  She reached the desert hotel at 10:30am and slipped into the still cool empty pool. The clear blue panel of water shattered and refracted as she swam laps, calming itself as she ascended the ladder, anxious to return to stillness. Heading back to the 4X4 in her wet swimsuit, Rachel waited for her anxieties to fade. She would be dry within minutes just by opening the windows and turning off the air-conditioning.

  It took her a while to find the slip-road that led to the desert’s blankest quarter, and although part of it was now striated with highways she imagined she might see a prehistoric creature, a Diplodocus perhaps, lumbering over the distant escarpment, searching for the last remaining oasis.

  Within a few minutes she hit a section of the route almost obliterated by shifting sand. As soon as she saw the glittering mica sliding across the blacktop she knew she was within reach of her destination, and felt a warm caul of calm descending over her.

  For the last few weeks Ben and Colette had been at each other’s throats. The heat outside didn’t help. This year it was proving to be so punishing that a record number of employees’ families had left for cooler climes. Rachel was tired of thinking about the resort and its problems. Lately it had become the only topic of conversation in the household. Colette was affronted by offers of help, so Rachel had learned to keep her counsel. But she feared that Ben might have good reason to be on edge all the time.

  She mopped her forehead with a tissue and closed the car window, turning the air-con higher. As she drove on, the amber rock-strewn landscape, as barren as the surface of a distant moon, softened and was subsumed by sand until the contours of the horizon flexed in balletic arabesques.

  She found the spot she was seeking. Only locals would have been able to tell it apart from any other quadrant of the desert, but Rachel had memorised the configuration of the land. Tourists rarely came here, because the new highways took more direct routes. Pulling the 4X4 over to the side of the road, she gently eased it onto the packed-gravel pathway leading between dunes until she could no longer see the highway in her rear-view mirror. There was no danger of becoming stuck in the sand, and there was still enough room to reverse and return to the main road when she wanted.

  Switching off the engine, she pushed the air-con down to half-level. She needed to think. She had promised herself that by the time she left the desert today, she would have decided what to do. She would talk to Lea at around five and listen to her advice. Then it would be time to make a choice; either ignore her fears or go to the police and risk their derision. The worst part was trying to understand how it could all have gone so wrong. She was frightened; who wouldn’t be? But she was more frightened for the victims.

  Looking up through the windscreen, she felt safe beneath the fierce cobalt band of oxygen which protected the earth from limitless darkness. Like ice crystals melting, her thoughts cleared and solutions began to present themselves. She made a mental list of people she could approach, those whom she felt would be sympathetic to her plight. Then she made a second list, consisting of potential enemies who should be avoided at all costs. Gradually, the nagging tension she had felt deep inside her over the last few days began to fade. She closed her eyes, and soon fell into a light sleep.

  A clanging noise awoke her with a start. It had sounded like a rock hitting the roof. She was sweating despite the fact that the air-con was still running. Sitting up, she turned it off and listened.

  Nothing.

  She looked out of the windows. The sun was now at its zenith, somewhere directly above the roof of the car, and there were no shadows. A light wind had picked up and was sifting sand from the phosphorescent peaks of the dunes.

  She was sure she had not imagined the noise.

  There was a second bang, this time from the rear passenger-side tyre. She could only think, absurdly, that a hawk might have attacked the 4X4 – did they do that?

  Her clothes were piled on the back seat, but her swimsuit was dry now, so she decided to get properly dressed. She couldn’t very easily do it in the vehicle, but suppose she got outside and was attacked by a bird?

  This is ridiculous, she thought, it’s just the heat expanding the metal roof rack. You’re jumpy at everything these days, and you know well enough why.

  She slipped out of the driver’s door and stepped onto the hardpack of the road, which stayed cooler than the sand. Immediately the sun stabbed down at her, stinging her bare shoulders. She had a bottle of Factor 50 cream in the boot, and urgently needed to put some on. She had bee
n waiting until she had dried off to apply it.

  First, though, she took a quick look at the roof of the car, to see if anything really had landed on it. The 4X4 was so tall that she had to stand on tiptoe. There was nothing. She felt a gush of hot wind at her back, and almost lost her balance. There was another thump of rock. She turned in time to see a plume of sand falling about five metres away. What was doing that?

  When she went round to the driver’s door, she found it shut.

  She pulled on the handle, but nothing happened. You have got to be fucking kidding me, she told herself, trying it again. The car was not self-locking—at least, she didn’t think so. Maybe it had jammed. She felt sure the boot would be open, at least. Moving to the rear of the vehicle, she depressed the catch but nothing happened. None of the doors opened.

  The sun was already starting to scald her bare shoulders. She peered in through the driver’s window and saw that the keys were missing from the ignition. It made no sense at all. Did she take them out? It was true that she sometimes forgot what she did, but she had no pockets in her swimsuit, so why would she have done? Think clearly and carefully, she told herself, trying not to panic. Your keys are gone and the car has somehow locked itself. Where’s your cell phone?

  With a sinking heart, she looked inside and saw it lying on the passenger seat. There was no sign of the keys anywhere. The vehicle was sealed. There was nothing else for it but to break one of the windows. Ben would be mad at her, but this was an emergency.

  She set off to find a rock. Most of the loose ones were made of impacted sand and were not up to the task. She needed one that would prove stronger than the window. Hunting around on the hardscrabble she managed to pull free a sizeable chunk. Gripping it with both hands, she slammed it at the centre of the passenger-side window. The rock cracked and fell apart, crumbling into dry brown pieces.

  She searched further afield, and came back with four more. Two broke, and two had no effect on toughened glass. Her pulse was rising fast. She could feel her face and shoulders reddening.

  Rachel cursed herself for getting into such a stupid situation. This was how people died. She knew that in a few minutes she would start blistering badly. To be shut outside your own car in just a swimsuit, how dumb was that?

  Dropping to her knees, she looked under the vehicle. The road had a high camber that almost touched the 4X4’s bulky undercarriage. Perhaps there was a slim space on the far side of the vehicle near the back tyre. She might be able to shelter at least part of her body from the unforgiving sun, but that was all.

  She was not given to panic, but her present state of mind was not conducive to staying calm for long. Pacing around the car in burning bare feet, she was still trying to think of a plan when she heard the sound of an engine starting up. She hopped to the rear of the car and saw a vehicle rolling forward from behind the nearest dune. When she recognised the licence plate she offered up a silent thankful prayer.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Tragedies

  ‘WHAT DO YOU know about vortex shedding?’

  Roy rubbed his eyes and checked the time on his bedside alarm clock; 6:10am. ‘Gee, Ben, I’m not awake yet, let me get some coffee first—’ He switched the phone to his other hand and looked back at his sleeping wife.

  ‘Listen, you know the Compass Towers are designed to sway four metres at their tops in high winds? Well, the swaying causes a wave cycle that emits a regular pulse—’

  ‘I know that part.’ He sat up and slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Lea.

  ‘But if the wind matches the tower’s natural bend cycle you get shedding, which is why the sides of the seaward buildings are stepped, to break the synchronisation. And it works, but not on the ground. The wind came up last night, the cycles matched and ripped all the tiling away from the fountains. It’s a real mess.’

  ‘You’re already there?’

  ‘Been here since five.’

  ‘Let me take a shower and I’ll meet you on site.’

  ‘Nothing you can do here. You could get legal to dig out our contract with the construction team.’

  Roy closed his phone and headed for the shower. He glanced back at Lea’s sleeping form and wanted to touch her, but he needed to work. Best not to wake her, he thought.

  Arising from an uneasy sleep, Lea found the other half of the bed rumpled but empty. She was vaguely aware that Roy had come upstairs late, but there was no sign of him now. She slipped on her dressing gown and opened the door to her office. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘ you are here.’

  ‘Sorry, I thought it was best to let you sleep. I’ll just be a few minutes.’ He returned his attention to the computer printer.

  ‘Do you want breakfast?’

  ‘No, I raided the fridge before I came to bed, I’ll get something later.’

  Lastri arrived and insisted on cooking breakfast for Cara, even though she only ate Cheerios in the mornings. Lea looked in on her daughter but found her bad-tempered and unresponsive. She had made the mistake of asking her about a rumoured boyfriend just before she went to bed, and had been accused of denying her a private life. Realising that she had violated some unwritten law and would now be punished with a complex series of sulky silences, she walked around the lake to clear her head of bad dreams.

  The sun was rising behind the hedges, dispelling lavender mist from the lush parkland. Slats of gold striated the sculpted hedges. No-one was allowed to walk on the lawns that sloped to the water’s edge; baroque railings fenced off the grass. A phalanx of gardeners was busy trimming any sign of untidiness from the acacias, hyacinths and black willows. No desert plants were allowed to flourish in the painted landscape; wildflowers were regarded as parasites.

  She passed the back gardens of the villas where the maids were setting breakfast tables. A flock of plovers rose and settled repeatedly at the far end, like a videogame resetting itself. A few matronly ladies were walking tiny inbred dogs. By mid-morning an army of strangers would be minding pets and toddlers in the shaded areas of the park. The nurses and maids of Dream Ranches were respectful and distant, careful to avoid the comfortable intimacy of mothers and owners. The scene felt oddly Victorian, as if she had been stationed in some doomed and distant fort owned by the East India Company.

  Lea removed her sunglasses and studied the sky, a deep topaz that made the earth’s oxygen layer appear dangerously thin. When she reached the communal swimming pool, she found the gate closed with a red and white plastic chain. She leaned over the railings and saw that the pool was half empty. Something flopped and rolled in the shallow end, a large shiny brown insect she had never seen before. Unable to escape, it seemed likely to die. Disconcerted, she headed home.

  ‘Roy?’ she called to the other room, ‘why are they draining the pool?’

  He appeared at her side, tightening the knot of a grey silk tie. ‘What do you think?’

  She touched the tie, straightening it. ‘Kind of sexy. Do you remember when Cara was little and we hired that horrible French villa?’

  Ray chuckled. ‘God, we managed to pick the only unpicturesque village in the whole of Provence. No towels and a wasps’ nest on the patio. Why?’

  ‘Cara was asleep and we sat watching the shooting stars. And you said nothing bad could ever happen to us, so long as we stayed together. Remember?’

  ‘Sure. What is this?’

  ‘I don’t know, I miss you.’ She reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Why are you all dressed up?’

  ‘I have to sit in on a presentation tonight. I’ll be late.’

  ‘There’s breakfast ready on the patio. Try and eat some, you’ll make Lastri’s day.’

  Roy checked his tie in the mirror. ‘What did you ask me?’

  ‘The pool—it’s half empty.’

  ‘I don’t know, honey. You know who to ask, go over and see if they’re around. I need to use your computer for a few minutes.’

  There was no sign of the maintenance man, so she collected the spar
e key to the pump room, a small breezeblock building accessed from the rear of the garden.

  She’d been shown how to do this. Checking that the long red handles of the pool valves were pointing in the right direction, she made sure that the tank was filling, At first she thought there wasn’t enough water coming back into the header tank, which would mean a leak in the recirculation system, but then she decided to check the concrete pool itself. In the corner of the deep end was a faintly visible crack, a deep blue line that ran for a little over a metre.

  She returned to find Roy draining his coffee. ‘Looks like a fissure has opened along a join,’ she explained. ‘I’ll give maintenance a call.’

  ‘I’m sure somebody over there is already figuring out what the problem is,’ said Roy. ‘I have to go. Lastri brought in the paper.’

  She looked down at her copy of Gulf News. ‘Reading that will take up thirty seconds of my day.’ A movement caught her eye. Colette was coming up the drive. She looked as if she had been crying. Lea went to the front door and opened it.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s Rachel.’ She pulled out a wet tissue and rubbed at her eyes, making them redder.

  ‘You’d better come in.’

  ‘She’s always been so damned headstrong, she refuses to admit she’s getting any older, acting like she’s still a teenager, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Why, what’s happened?’

  ‘She went out to the desert yesterday morning—she’s done it before, we can’t stop her—and somehow managed to lock herself out of the car. She was found by a passing motorist. She’d been in the sun for six hours without any protection. We’ve been at the hospital all night.’

  ‘My God, is she all right?’

  ‘The doctors tried to bring her temperature down but her arteries weren’t flexible enough—they’d narrowed, and they just couldn’t do it. She died a little after six this morning.’