“There’s a man there,” Kramer said.
Ben followed her gaze. Now he saw lengths of rope suspended from the branches of a couple of mature trees that held a man in a ‘y’ shape with his arms outstretched. The bush had grown up around him like a weird kind of overcoat. “He doesn’t look too good,” Ben said.
A wolf’s howl cut through the air like a knife. Ben turned. He saw them, low and grey as they danced between the trees. “We need to move.”
“We need to help him,” Kramer said.
Before Ben could argue, Kramer and Emily were running towards the figure. He followed them, with Geordie already ahead of him. Kramer and Emily came to a halt a few yards short of the man. Emily screamed. The wolves heard her, and their baying reached a crescendo. Ben nudged Kramer and said, with more urgency, “We really need to move.”
“It’s Congrave,” she said.
Ben stared at her and then at the man. He’d moved, raising his head so Ben could see his face through the bright green leaves. The familiar eyes of Douglas Congrave met his. Ben’s skin ran cold. He saw the pain in them. And the hopelessness. Ben forgot the wolves for a moment. “Cut him down,” he said. “We can take him with us.”
“No,” Geordie said with a finality that made Ben look at him. Geordie pointed. “Look at the branches.”
Ben’s attention returned to Congrave. The branches wove around his boss, the leaves laying against his body like a second skin. It took a moment for Ben to trace the path of one stem for him to see the truth. It lanced Congrave’s thigh like a catheter. As he looked more closely, Ben realised more penetrated the skin and others emerged, all sticky with blood, before they grew away from the flesh. Beside him, Kramer turned Emily so she faced away. Pointless really, Emily had already seen everything.
“What do we do?” Geordie asked.
“Kill me,” Congrave said, his voice hoarse and dry.
“No,” Ben whispered. “No, we can’t do that.”
Kramer led Emily to the edge of the clearing furthest from the approaching wolves. She looked back and said, “Make a decision, fast.”
Ben and Geordie exchanged a glance. “Cut him down,” Ben said.
Geordie pulled out his combat knife, and Ben held Congrave up as the soldier sliced the bindings that held Congrave upright. The agonised shout that came from Congrave as he was released made Ben flinch. He lowered the older man to the ground.
“What now?” Geordie asked.
“I can’t live like this,” Congrave said, his voice low and racked with pain.
Ben studied the plants where their main stems came out of the ground. He figured they could cut them off at ground level and then Congrave would be free. Ben told Geordie who said, “What’ll that do to the branches that go through his body?”
“I don’t know.” Ben heard Kramer shout that it was time to move.
“Kill me,” Congrave said again.
“No.” Ben held his hand out to Geordie and took the combat knife. He didn’t hesitate, slashing the tree stems with hard strokes. Congrave screamed as the plants spasmed, the branches whipping out to strike at Ben. He fell back as a hot line seared across his shoulder. Geordie pulled him clear as Congrave lay panting on the ground and the branches settled back upon his body.
Wolves howled.
Ben saw them coming, close enough that their eyes caught the sunlight that broke through the tree canopy and glittered like wicked diamonds. “Carry him,” Ben said to Geordie. To Kramer, he said, “Run.”
Ben ignored Congrave’s cries of pain as Geordie lifted him from the ground. He concentrated on the wolf pack that broke into the clearing. Dropping to one knee Ben brought his rifle up, slipped the fire selector to automatic, aimed low and swept the wolves with fire. He saw six or eight go down in a tumbling mass of blood and flesh. The survivors veered aside and gave Ben enough time to eject the empty magazine and reload. A quick check showed the others had vanished amongst the trees. Kind of good and kind of bad. They were on their way to safety, but leaving him behind and he couldn’t see the pathway.
Oh, shit.
The snarling wolves regrouped, forming a semi-circle as they stalked Ben. He retreated a pace at a time, swinging the muzzle of the rifle. The wolves seemed to understand that the danger that the weapon held. They hesitated each time the gun pointed at them.
“Scarrett.” He glanced over his shoulder. Kramer stood at the edge of the clearing. She gave him a smile and said, “Did you think I’d leave you to have all the fun on your own?”
“You’re one crazy chick,” Ben said.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” She smiled. “You take the ones right of centre, and I’ll go left. On three. One, two, three...”
It was like someone plucked the wolves off the ground with invisible wires. The clearing became a charnel house of blood and guts. Some wolves lived, scattering back into the trees, the rest died. Ben blinked gunsmoke from his eyes. Kramer’s half of the clearing looked equally blood-soaked.
“Don’t just stand there admiring your handiwork,” Kramer said. “I suggest we run.”
Ben ran. Twenty yards into the wood they found Geordie cradling Congrave with Emily at his side.
“The path changes colour,” Emily said. She pointed at the ground. “It’s red now.”
Red for danger, Ben thought. Why am I not surprised.
Congrave lifted his head. “Follow it. We’re close. I can sense her.”
“Who?” Ben asked.
“Morrigan.”
“Oh,” Ben said. “Her.”
Congrave gave them a cold smile. “I’ve learned something. I thought I would die if you cut down the trees. But they need me to live, and I need them.”
“So you don’t want us to kill you?” Ben asked.
“No.” Congrave lifted a hand to brush leaves out of his vision. “Thank you for ignoring me.”
“Get used to it,” Kramer said. “Scarrett’s a professional ignorer.”
“Enough of the chit-chat. How about we move,” Geordie put in. “Before those wolves come back.”
“Yeah.” Kramer adjusted her backpack. “Let’s go.”
***
McGrath didn’t get much sleep that night. The Viking warriors sharing his body rose up in a drinking song as soon as McGrath’s head hit the pillow of the motel room he’d rented. His previous effort of getting them to quieten down failed miserably in the dark of his room. He tried sticking his head under the pillow but the voices just followed him. Putting the television on just added to the noise, so he turned it off again. He tried a hot shower and then a cold shower. At one in the morning he went for a walk to the service station the motel was attached to and had two cups of coffee. Big mistake. He should have gone decaf because back in his room, at two-thirty, with the warriors having a good old sing-song, and caffeine burning through his system, he could only lie and stare up at the ceiling.
At three-thirty, he made another big mistake. Calling your soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend for a cosy chat at that time of day (or to be more precise night) left him with a sore ear and a broken heart. At least it gave him a chance to think about how to get back on track with Lorna. A bunch of flowers, a big apology and a solemn promise to stay in Scotland and not even contemplate being employed by a bunch of people who spent their working day with the dead. He hoped that would work. By five, and giving up on the idea that he would get anything like meaningful sleep rather than exhausted catnaps, McGrath showered again, packed his bags and left the motel.
He drove through the dawn light, mingling with commuters until he saw the glow of a fast food restaurant and pulled in for breakfast. By now the celebrating Vikings seemed to have fallen into a drunken stupor. Which left McGrath in the company of Old Davey, or whatever Norse god he claimed to be.
Soon, the old man’s voice whispered in his head. I can feel the heartbeat. We’re close now.
“And then?” McGrath spoke softly, holding the container of coffee up to his mouth, so other cust
omers didn’t see his lips moving.
You can release us.
“Thank Christ for that.” McGrath smiled to himself.
But we still have need of you.
“I should have known.” His head dipped in exhaustion.
We can combat the spirits. You will have to take on the flesh.
“And what does that mean?”
It means we need your help.
McGrath shook his head in exasperation. Old gods and dead men were the kind of people he needed to avoid from here on in. “Will it be dangerous?” he asked.
If you die, we will welcome you to the Hall of the Fallen.
McGrath almost spat a mouthful of coffee across his table. If having a bunch of Viking warriors camped in his head for the last day wasn’t bad enough, the idea of having to spend eternity with them made him want to scream.
We need to move on now. The hour approaches.
“Do you know where we are going?”
Follow the path.
“What path?” McGrath said out loud, and got a couple of odd looks from other customers.
That path.
He saw it then. A red glow, like scattered gemstones, that lay on the asphalt surface of the car park and disappeared into the ash grey light of the morning. McGrath left the restaurant. When he reached his car, he could see the glowing path ran to the exit and onto the dual-carriageway.
He unlocked the car and sat in it. The pathway stayed in place despite the idea that his mind was playing tricks on him. Lack of sleep, or maybe too much sugar-laden junk food at this time of the morning. It didn’t disappear. McGrath started the engine and drove out onto the A41. He stayed on it, keeping his speed down as much as possible. The pathway veered off the dual-carriageway and McGrath followed it onto a minor road. At some point he passed from Hertfordshire to Buckinghamshire. The red glow seemed to intensify, as if his final destination grew close. McGrath wished he knew more about English geography. Off the motorway network, he now had no idea where he was in relation to any major city. The place names he saw on road signs meant nothing to him. He could have been driving through Narnia as far as he was concerned.
Soon. Old Davey whispered. Soon.
***
Hannah dreamt. Dead things chased her across a never-ending field. Thick mud lay like a carpet of glue and with each step, her feet seemed to sink deeper into the mire. Her pursuers floated over the surface, reaching out with razor-tipped fingers to lash at her. Hannah couldn’t move, trapped by the mud as they fell upon her. The beating of their hands upon her back became the hammering on the door to her motel room. Hannah woke, bathed in sweat, her legs trapped by the tangled confines of the bedsheets. She fought to get free and fell from bed to floor, the nightdress she wore, up around her waist.
“Hannah? Hannah?” Reuben’s muffled voiced came through the heavy door. He banged again, and she took enough time to grab her phone from the bedside unit and check the time.
Jesus, something must have happened.
Hannah pushed her nightdress down, pulled her hair away from her face where it stuck in the sweat and opened the door enough to peer through the gap at Reuben.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’ve got news.” Reuben wore a rugby shirt and jeans. He looked like he’d had a good night’s sleep and a morning shower even though it was just approaching seven.
“What?” Hannah’s throat felt as thick as the mud she’d been running through in her dream.
“I can’t say out here.”
Which was Reuben’s way of saying he needed to come into her room. With a tug on the hem of her nightdress to get it another centimetre down her thighs, Hannah stepped back to let him in. Reuben walked straight passed her and stopped over by the window. He pulled the curtain back to let some light in. When he turned back he seemed to realise that Hannah wasn’t exactly dressed for a morning conference.
“Do you want to get dressed?” he asked.
“I need to shower, dry my hair, have a morning mug of tea and maybe grab some breakfast,” she said. “But I guess what you’ve got to say is important.”
“Yeah,” Reuben tried to smile and failed. “Tony Vincenzo called me a few minutes ago. He got a hit on the woman in the lift.”
“He did?” Hannah said, her voice rising with excitement.
“Not from a known database. This came from a cross match with current security data being backed up overnight.”
“What does that mean?” Hannah asked.
“It means the woman from the lift was scanned entering a secure zone just over twelve hours ago. And as far as we know, she is still there.”
“That’s good news,” Hannah said, a frown forming as she saw the look on Reuben’s face. “Isn’t it?”
“The secure zone is Chequers,” Reuben said.
“Jesus,” Hannah whispered. “Is the Prime Minister there?”
Reuben looked at his watch. “Her aircraft landed at Brize Norton just after five this morning. It’s less than an hour’s drive down the A40 from there to Ellesborough. I guess she’s already arrived by now.”
“We have to warn them,” Hannah said. “Get her out of there.”
Reuben shook his head. “Norma is already in the loop. She doesn’t want the police screwing this up. You and I have been added to the Chequers guest list for today. We go there, identify the woman, isolate, then neutralise her.”
“Right,” Hannah said, thinking about the creatures she’d already fought and how a woman who could walk through walls wouldn’t be neutralised just like that. “Do I get to shower first?”
“Yeah,” Reuben smiled. “We need to look the part when we arrive.”
“Are you trying to say I don’t look the part already?”
“I think the words hedge, dragged and backwards spring to mind but not in that order.”
“Thanks.” Hannah threw a pillow at him. “Now get out before I find something hard to hit you with.”
Reuben left with a grin. Hannah grabbed clothes from her bag and hit the shower. The news gave her something different to think about. The previous day had been spent either in a coffee shop at a service station or in the bar of the restaurant attached to the motel. All that sitting around meant Hannah spent too long thinking about Tim. She wanted to see him again, if only to try and apologise properly. The day took a twist when she phoned the hospital to find out his progress only to be told he’d discharged himself. That left her not only thinking about the apology but worrying about his condition. There was no way he should have been released, even if he’d insisted. But Hannah knew the way the NHS operated nowadays meant any chance of a free bed was grabbed with both hands by hospital administrators.
So Hannah washed and dried, keeping her thoughts on the threat to the Prime Minister. It seemed a little crazy to expect her and Reuben to face this woman on their own. If she could appear in a lift between floors, take down Douglas Congrave and spirit his body out of a central London hotel without any witnesses, then nailing a couple of intelligence agents would be a walk in the park.
Not such a great career choice now, is it?
Hannah smiled at her reflection as she put a few touches of make-up on. The question she’d posed herself could be answered quite easily. Yes, what would you rather be doing? Sitting behind a supermarket check-out or answering the phone in a call centre?
Reuben met her next to the motel’s reception desk, and they dropped their key cards off as he said, “We’ve got time for breakfast. No point in arriving too early, it might just arouse the woman’s suspicions.”
“It’s funny,” Hannah said, “but I’m not as hungry as I was an hour ago.”
“Eat what you can,” Reuben said. “You might need the energy later.”
Fifty minutes later they were on the road, heading west towards the village of Ellesborough and a meeting with a goddess.
Chapter Fourteen
“Stop!” Geordie snapped the word out and at the same time shoved Em
ily into the hedgerow that appeared at their side.
Ben followed his example and burrowed into the undergrowth as Kramer pushed in behind him. He waited. Congrave had melted into the foliage somewhere behind him. Ben stared hard at the space where he thought Congrave might be and eventually saw the older man’s eyes blink.
Geordie, still half on Emily, twisted around and said, “Listen.”
Ben listened. He could hear birds, the hum of insects and a distant, familiar drone.
“Is that a car?” he asked.
“Yeah, coming from over that way.”
Ben lifted his head, the land dropped away, and he could see the flash of reflected sunlight. Beyond that, he saw something else and said, “There are power lines as well.”
“You think we’re home?” Geordie asked.
“I hope so,” Kramer said.
“Then best be extra careful,” Geordie shuffled off Emily. “Carrying rifles around like this might get the wrong reaction in some quarters.”
“Should we dump them?” Ben suggested. “We’ve all got sidearms, and they’re easily concealed.”
Geordie looked at Kramer. “What d’you think, boss lady?”
“I’d rather have the firepower if those wolves come back, or anything else for that matter.”
“They’re back,” Emily said, sitting up. She pointed out into the field.
“Who?” Geordie asked.
“My angels. They’re back.”
“Then we must be home,” Kramer said. She checked her phone and realised the battery was dead. She said, “Do your phones work?”
“Dead as a dodo,” Geordie said. “Should have switched it off when we went walkabout.”
“Same here,” Ben said.
Kramer rose to her feet. She left her rifle on the ground as she walked out into the field and did a full circle to look around. “There’s a big house over that way,” she said.
Geordie found his binoculars and passed them to her. Kramer studied the place for a while and said, “There are cars outside, so someone’s at home.”
“So we head on over,” Geordie said. “When we get close, one of us carries on, no weapons on them, and asks very nicely if we can use their phone.”
The Anomaly (Scarrett & Kramer Book 2) Page 28
