The Sand Men

by Christopher Fowler

  Concentrate, she told herself, keep putting one foot in front of the other and don’t look up until you’re home.

  The identical streets passed on either side, differentiated only by the species of plants and makes of cars. Moonlight had flattened the landscape, robbing it of light and life. The spacey sensation distanced her. It was like walking on a planet with a different atmosphere.

  She turned into her street, no more familiar than any of the others, and watched as her house approached. A red flatbed truck swung around the corner and slammed to a halt in front of her. It was too dark to see who was driving, but her instinct was to get away. She remembered what Ben Larvin had told her. No-one could be trusted.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The Ganesh

  ‘MRS BROOK.’ AS if to prove her wrong, the voice was recognisably one that belonged to a friend. Rashad Karmeel came around the truck and took her arm. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. The streetlights aren’t working. Did you find your daughter?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I don’t know. The electricity—’

  ‘The phone mast at the compound entrance is down, some of the networks are out and the street lights are off. I think it’s a pretty big fault. Hardly surprising, with so much energy being used by the resort tonight.’

  They’ve vandalised the mast and the substation, she thought. ‘Everyone’s been telling me there’s nothing to worry about,’ she said. ‘I have to find Cara.’

  ‘Have you got a signal? Maybe you’re on a different provider.’

  Lea checked her phone. ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘It could be coincidence,’ said Rashad. ‘I can call the emergency services again.’

  ‘The lights are out for a reason.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He looked at her. ‘What sort of reason?’

  ‘Are you a director, Rashad?’ she asked.

  ‘No, of course not. Why?’

  I was going to wait for her, she thought, but that’s what they want. They want us to stay home. They stage accidents to preserve their secrets. How would they keep me quiet? What would they do? It would have to be something believable. A gas explosion, perhaps. No-one would ever investigate it properly. At some point she realised that she had been speaking out loud. ‘You know the worst part? I have no proof that it’s even happening. How could I convince anyone? But I’ve seen for myself, I know what they do in the vault. It’s right there in plain sight. You can see for yourself too.’

  Rashad did not look at her as if she was mad, or pity her. ‘I have to go back to Dream World. I can check it out for you, if you like.’

  ‘You believe me?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure I understand, but I have no reason not to believe you.’

  ‘Then could I come with you? Roy said he has to finish up there tonight, and Leo Hardy was heading back there. I don’t trust Hardy, but I trust the police even less. Do you think you can get back in?’ Her head was starting to clear. Paradoxically, Dream World felt like the one place that might provide a safe harbour. Cara would call if she chose to believe her.

  ‘I have a Premium Pass. It should work until the security seal is activated at midnight. Only directors will be allowed in after that.’

  ‘I can show you what I saw.’ She came around to the passenger side of the vehicle. The Renault could stay at her house. It would make them think she was still in the compound.

  Rashad put the truck in gear. ‘If your husband and daughter aren’t there you’ll have to get a taxi back. Most of them have been commandeered for VIP use tonight.’

  ‘I’ll figure it out. Just give me a lift.’ She tipped her head and listened. ‘It’s so silent. The calm before the storm.’

  They set off across Dream Ranches, the only vehicle moving through the dark deserted suburban streets. Shortly they reached the blacked-out perimeter wall and traced it around to the entrance gates, passing only one other car along the way.

  ‘Maybe you should drive slower,’ she said. ‘There could be anything out there.’

  When Rashad pulled up, they found the barriers down and the sentry booth empty. The highway beyond the compound was brightly lit and busy, a world away. Lea looked back at the darkened houses. The compound had turned into a jail, and the people inside it didn’t even know they were inmates.

  ‘The guards are supposed to be here twenty-four hours a day,’ said Rashad, climbing out. ‘The next shift doesn’t end for another two hours.’ He walked over to the deserted booth and tried the door. It was locked. Inside, the computer terminals were powered off.

  Lea joined him. She pushed against the barrier but felt no give. ‘Could we move these back manually?’

  ‘No. They’re electronically controlled and made of galvanised steel. I watched them being installed.’

  ‘The other gate at the rear of the compound, near the old underpass, there’s only usually only one guard on it,’ Lea pointed out. ‘We could try that.’

  ‘Look.’ Rashad pointed up at the black phone mast that stood above the acacia bushes beside the entrance. The top antenna had collapsed on itself. It looked as if it had been hacked off at the point where it joined the base.

  ‘You think they cut the mains power as well?’ Lea asked.

  ‘Maybe. Come on.’

  As they drove back across the compound they passed a grey steel electricity substation at the side of the road. Its doors had been wrenched open and stood wide. The wiring had been pulled out in fistfuls and thrown on the grass. There were no emergency service vehicles to be found.

  ‘Where are the police? They’re usually patrolling. Why aren’t they around?’

  ‘Maybe they’re tied up with the opening,’ Rashad said.

  They had pulled up against the rear exit, but that, too, was closed, the barrier firmly locked in place, the sentry box empty.

  ‘Is there any other way out?’

  ‘When we sealed up the entrance to the underpass, we reopened a small slip-road to remove materials to the other side of the freeway. We closed it after we finished, but I don’t think it was properly sealed. I could probably get it open again.’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Rashad drove his truck off the road and across the hard scrubland beyond the houses, keeping his headlights on low beam. After five minutes of bouncing over pack-earth they came to the grassy freeway embankment, where a narrow section of the slope had been patched with sheets of corrugated iron.

  ‘I have some tools in the back of the truck,’ he told her. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

  Rashad turned off the truck lights. They found a hammer and a crowbar in a rucksack on the flatbed, and began prising off the panels, working by the light of the stars. The panels were easily removed, but Lea could see a lot of debris inside.

  ‘Is it wide enough to get the truck through?’ she asked, standing back.

  ‘Just about. We’ll have to clear some rubble.’

  They dragged the last of the panels aside and entered the tunnel. Rashad’s headlights sent rats scampering. Slowly working their way through, they shoved aside bricks, barrels and planks, until they had reached the far end. Rashad gave the panels a few hard kicks, then nudged them with the truck’s fender. They came down in a spray of dust.

  The truck rejoined the highway, and its cabin was flooded with light. The night guards were manning the Dream World gates, and argued with Rashad about his pass. Apparently, he now required an additional admittance code because the resort’s security status had changed in the past hour. It seemed that everyone had been caught by surprise. The guards argued with each other, then with Rashad. Finally, one of them waved the truck through.

  ‘How did you do that?’ she asked.

  ‘I get his brothers cheap cigarettes,’ Rashad replied with a grin. ‘Camel Lights.’

  ‘I need to show you proof of what I’m talking about,’ said Lea. ‘It’s down there on the left. Pull over just past the next j
unction.’ She checked her original eyeline from the North tower and indicated the octagonal concrete building. She had expected to pass Hardy and his men. The security officer’s Land Rover was sitting in the car park.

  Jumping down from the truck, she headed for the vault. As she walked toward it, she saw that the door now sported a newly fitted electronic swipe-card box. She tried to move it, but it had been firmly bolted into the steel. ‘It was open before.’

  ‘Problems have a way of disappearing quickly around here.’ Rashad walked along the wall, trailing his fingers over the emerald tilework.

  ‘I went inside. There’s a stairway leading to an apartment.’

  ‘It’s an air vent, Mrs Brook.’ He turned away from her. Solar lights sent a cold wash over the pathways between the hotels. The rest of the site was in darkness.

  Lea looked around. ‘There’s nobody left here now, but that’s Hardy’s jeep over there so he must be around somewhere. Wait.’

  Rashad seemed to make up his mind and walked swiftly back to the truck.

  ‘What’s that around your neck, Rashad?’ She caught up with him and flicked open his collar, exposing a silver chain hung with a small pendant of Ganesh. Rashad said nothing, but stared back at her.

  ‘Where did you get it?’ she asked. ‘It belongs to somebody I know.’

  ‘Have you been to the creek market, Mrs Brook? There are millions of these things.’

  ‘Not like that one. I should know, Rachel’s father made it for her. He was a silversmith.’ Before he could react she reached forward and flipped the heavy pendant. ‘His initials are on the back.’

  ‘Okay, let me tell you what happened,’ said Rashad, suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Someone left it in my locker. When people go home at short notice they leave stuff behind. The men often leave items they’ve found.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Two days ago.’ He unclipped the chain and handed it back. ‘Take it, please, I didn’t want it in the first place.’

  Rashad didn’t seem like the kind of man who would lie, but if someone had placed the chain in his locker it meant they were deliberately stirring up trouble. Worse than that, they could be trying to implicate him in Rachel’s death.

  There was an odd look on his face now, something between guilt and a loss of nerve. ‘I wish you hadn’t done this,’ he said quietly.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Okay, look. Here’s what we’re going to do. I want you to sit inside the vehicle for a few minutes and wait for me. It’s going to be safer this way.’

  ‘Safer? I don’t understand. Safer than what?’

  ‘Please. You must not argue.’ He stood close to her and held up a hand. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes, I promise.’

  Lea watched as Rashad padded off across the car park and slipped into the ground floor of the Persiana, leaving her alone. She looked across at the building. Everything was still and dead. While she waited, she tried to recall the exact order of events that had brought her here. She looked for anything that might prove she was wrong.

  She wished she had a cigarette. She glanced back across the car park and saw the glass doors to the Persiana atrium slowly swinging open.

  Rashad was walking purposefully toward her with Leo Hardy.

  Hardy’s face was impassive. The South African moved forward, grabbing her forearm and hauling her out of the vehicle. ‘I need you to come with me now, Mrs Brook,’ he told her.

  ‘Keep your hands off me,’ Lea warned. ‘Rashad, why did you bring him here?’ Rashad looked away from her, embarrassed.

  Hardy seized her wrist and began to gently pull. ‘Let me get you to—’

  ‘Leo, leave her alone,’ said Rashad.

  ‘The more people who find out, the greater the risk,’ said Hardy with a shrug of his wide shoulders, but he finally released her arm.

  Rashad led Lea to one side. ‘We’ve had intelligence that there’s going to be some kind of attack on the resort,’ he confided. ‘They used a recognised call sign that’s only known to the directors.’

  ‘It’s not a real threat,’ she said. ‘They deliberately gave the call sign to the children.’ You can say anything, she thought, it won’t make any difference.

  ‘Hey, we’ve got to go,’ called Hardy.

  ‘There’s nothing you can do right now, Mrs Brook. You’ll be better off at home,’ said Rashad.

  ‘The power’s been cut, remember?’ she told him, stalling. ‘It’s not safe for me there.’

  ‘Then maybe you should stay in one of the hotels on the promenade until tomorrow morning. You can easily walk there from here.’

  ‘Rashad, come on, man,’ called Hardy again.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

  ‘To deal with the problem. I’ll catch up with you later. Don’t worry.’ He gave an apologetic shrug and ran to the truck.

  The car park was overlooked by closed circuit cameras. They couldn’t do anything underneath the lights. They were just following orders.

  She watched Rashad drive out of the parking lot, then set off in the direction of the main road.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The Hunt

  AS LEA HEADED toward the taxi rank, she decided not to go to a hotel. She had no spare clothes, nothing but the money in her purse, and there didn’t seem to be any stores open. Rashad had warned her about the difficulty of getting cabs tonight, but an empty cab sporting a local company logo was parked at the kerb beside a takeout shop. Its driver was leaning on the bonnet eating pungent gulab jamun from a plastic cup. She tapped his arm and climbed inside.

  As the hotels and cafés ran out, the concrete parquet of the road pixelated into loose uneven rectangles. The taxi drove on until the promenade became desolate and half-buried. She paid off the cab and ran with her sandals in her hand, over the still-warm dunes.

  Once she reached the sidewalk she looked back, but could no longer see the shoreline. Over at Dream World, police vans and security vehicles were crowded near the guard’s post. All of them had their lights off. There was no sound, and she could see no personnel moving about. Nothing to see here, the silent lights said, just men going about their business.

  At this end of the promenade the only cabs to be found were illegal. Climbing into the nearest one, its dashboard festooned with gold garlands, she sat back and listened to the driver’s English news channel. Most of the items were about the feasts and parties that were being planned across the capital to celebrate the opening.

  ‘Sharon Stone is there,’ said the young Indian driver. ‘She is old woman. Why no sexy Bollywood girls? Where you wan’ go?’

  She left the taxi near the road that ran parallel to the compound’s outer perimeter, paid the driver and ran across to the cleared access tunnel.

  Once she reached the interior, she saw that most of the street lamps were still off. It took her another twenty minutes to walk home. She was glad she had worn trainers. As she crossed the deserted, darkened pavements she tried to formulate a plan. She wouldn’t be able to do anything if she was arrested.

  The safest thing would be to drive out the same way in the Renault and try to book two flights online as soon as she could get a signal. She didn’t know how she would ever track Cara down in time, but she had to try.

  She ran up the drive, dug out her keys and let herself into the house. The alarm system was down. The rooms smelled of disinfectant and polish, nothing human, as if it was being returned to a pristine state by Lastri, ready for the next occupants.

  Poking around in the dark proved challenging, but she finally found a decent torch under the sink. She decided now to take only the bare minimum. She would buy everything she needed at the other end.

  She had wanted to shake Cara and shout, How could you have been so stupid, couldn’t you see what would happen? But how could she have, when she had been just as blind? The important thing now was to find her and make it out alive. Survival was the key.

  She was zippi
ng up her flight bag when something caught her eye at the window.

  A police car was creeping forward silently from the next street, its roof-light sliding crimson panes across the lawns. Grabbing the keys to the Renault, she headed downstairs. She ran to the car via the kitchen door and threw her bag onto the passenger seat just as the police car turned into the street.

  The car’s interior was filled with red light. She prayed that the patrol driver hadn’t seen her, but a moment later the whoop of a siren cut through the night air. She put her foot down, swinging the Renault hard into the next street. It was best to head away from the compound’s main entrance. They would be waiting for her there. Rashad had shown her another way out. Nobody would know it was open.

  She pulled the Renault up onto a front lawn, tearing over the grass, stopping under the low boughs of an acacia tree. Turning off the engine, she kept her head down until the police car had passed the turnoff. Across the gardens, she saw the glow of another red light. They would have her license plate; they would not expect her to continue on foot.

  Grabbing her bag she slid from the car, running down the side of the nearest darkened house. The gardens backed onto the meandering path that led around the lake. The fountains were turned off and silent.

  She realised she did not know the way to the embankment tunnel from here. She and Rashad had found it from the main road. It had to be at a point where lights shone from the other side of the highway, but if she ran in the wrong direction she might never locate it.

  Two torches switched back and forth between the houses. Vaulting the low steel fence and falling to the ground, she lay in the soft dry earth, partially hidden by the low leaves of the bushes. One of the torches came closer, wavered in the overhead branches.

  She waited a few minutes to be sure it had passed by, then set off around the lake.

  She had reached the far side when the glistening helicopter came over, its tail swinging round, its searchlight casting a perfect oval of light on the smooth glass of the water. Hardy must have arranged to have the search stepped up. She could feel the chunking vibration of the overhead blades in her bones. The top branches of the plants and bushes were fluttering like candle flames.