There was a left turn and, with a flick of his torch, he saw that the footprints went in that direction, one trail making a long, just discernible arc into the dark gap, like an elongated arrow.
He moved slowly towards the gap. He shone the torch back and forth into the gloom.
He turned to enter, and as he did so, a white shape shot towards him. He jumped back and to one side, dodging it.
A figure emerged from the darkness, arms raised, the metal of a blade glinting in one hand.
Renton struck down at Jim.
Jim swept the torch up, dodging so that Renton’s blow would miss him. His forearm smacked into Renton’s face. His adversary fell forward on to the floor as Jim swung round to face him. He prepared to step forward and attack, but Renton was scuttling away, twisting and jumping up faster than Jim imagined possible. Renton was running at him empty-handed. As he reached him, Jim grabbed Renton by the scruff of his shirt and, with a judo throw, catapulted him down the tunnel.
Renton was up again in a second and lunged forward. Jim punched his temple, sending him into the tunnel wall. Renton bounced back at him and rammed him into the other wall. He punched Jim in the side, at the site of his old injury.
Jim’s strength drained away and his knees buckled as pain shot through him. He fell to his knees. Renton aimed a blow at the top of his head as Jim punched upwards between Renton’s legs.
Renton doubled up and staggered backwards. Then he hobbled away.
Jim raised the torch and staggered to his feet. He stumbled after Renton, who was lurching ahead at a terrific speed, his feet barely touching the ground.
Jim’s pain was dissipating now, his vitality oozing back into him as he forced himself after Renton, who took a left into another tunnel. Jim didn’t hesitate to follow him. There was a kind of cold hatred in his spirit that he hadn’t felt before.
His torch picked up a figure in the near distance, disappearing into another entrance. He had to keep up or Renton would get away. He ran up to the turning. It was a door.
He hesitated. Renton would be on the other side. He flung the door open. Renton was standing in the middle of the room. As the door swung closed again Jim pushed it open. He stepped inside.
Renton was smiling at him. ‘Hurt, that did,’ he said.
‘Fuck,’ said Jim, seeing Kate prostrate on the table behind the technician.
Renton registered his reaction. ‘She’s OK,’ he said, ‘but once I’ve killed you I’ll do to her alive what I’ll do to you dead.’
Jim didn’t say anything, his focus returning solely to Renton. Renton’s face was bleeding on both sides, but that didn’t seem to bother him.
Renton held out his right hand. He was holding a long boning knife.
Jim heard the voice of his personal trainer: ‘When you see a knife, the best tactic is to run. Any other response is speculative.’ He stepped forward.
‘Aren’t you afraid?’ said Renton, waving the knife at him.
‘Aren’t you?’ Jim said involuntarily.
Renton didn’t reply.
Renton held back. Doubt swept through him. He didn’t know how to fight. He was faster and stronger than he could ever have imagined being but now he was facing someone who clearly knew fighting, someone who was his match, even while he was accelerated by TRT. The inner confidence that had welled up in him had drained.
Were the elixir’s powers failing him already? Were his moments of basking in a godlike consciousness leaving him? He swayed.
It was a signal to which Jim knew how to react. He grabbed Renton’s knife hand and threw the man to the floor. Renton rolled away, the knife spinning from his grasp. He was up amazingly fast again, too quick for Jim to get his punch in.
Renton darted to Kate; there was something in his hand, another blade grabbed in a flash from his workspace. He slashed at her and there was a jet of blood. ‘I’ve cut her vein wide open,’ he screamed, backing away from the table. ‘Deal with it and she may live. Come after me and she dies.’ He turned and darted for the door. His screaming cackle filled the room and the tunnel outside as he ran down it.
Jim dashed for Kate. Blood was pouring from her left wrist. She was twisting against her bonds. Jim tore away the tape holding her head down with his right hand, his left stuck into her armpit to try to slow the bleeding. He forced his knuckles deep into her, the pressure on the artery stemming the flow of blood from her wrist. He pulled the clear plastic bag from her mouth.
‘Behind you,’ she screamed.
Jim spun around. Renton was standing in the corner of the room, the boning knife in his hand. Jim snatched the pistol from his pocket and took aim. Renton froze, already halfway to him. The trigger wouldn’t pull. Renton registered the failure and lunged forwards. Jim pulled the trigger again and a shot sounded. Renton toppled forward.
Kate moaned and Jim looked back. Blood was everywhere. He stuck his right hand into her armpit again and pushed, looking around wildly for Renton and a chance to shoot.
He saw Renton’s crouched figure making for the door. He tried to fire again but the trigger didn’t snap back, and when it did, Renton had flung the door closed behind him. The bullet ricocheted off the metal frame.
Jim slammed the gun on to the table.
‘Tourniquet,’ gasped Kate. ‘In the dish there. Tourniquet …’
He located the leather strap curled in a kidney-shaped metal tray.
‘Tie it on my forearm,’ she said, her body struggling as she spoke.
He slipped the strap around her arm, his hands now slippery with her blood, and threaded it through the buckle. He pulled it tight, then took a scalpel from the table and, keeping the strap tight, cut away the rest of the tape.
She was naked, her skin white and cold.
She half sat up as he sliced the tape that bound her feet to low metal stirrups. She was hugging him limply, with barely enough strength to hold herself up. Her feet fell on to the table top and she sagged back. He dropped the blade and cradled her. ‘Lie back,’ he said. ‘I’m going to call for help.’ He took out his phone. There was no signal.
He looked at her. ‘Are you strong enough to walk out of here?’
‘No choice,’ she said. ‘True?’
‘Probably.’
‘My clothes are over there,’ she said vaguely. ‘What’s left of them.’
Jim glanced at her wrist. The blood had stopped gushing.
‘Get them,’ she said. ‘I’m so cold.’
Jim went to pick them up. They had been cut to pieces, apart from her jeans. He carried them and her shoes back to her.
‘Better than nothing,’ she said.
He helped her into the jeans and slipped her shoes on to her feet. ‘Put your good arm around me,’ he said.
She looked at the smashed torch and then at him. ‘God is on our side,’ said Jim, putting Stafford’s gun in his left hand.
‘I can walk,’ she said, as she stood, wobbling.
Jim steadied her, ready to grab her if she began to collapse.
Her head drooped a little. ‘Please let’s get away from here. I’m not sure how long I can hold on.’
‘I know the way.’ Jim looked at Renton’s screens. They were all empty, nothing moving in front of the camera’s infrared gaze. Renton had watched him every step of the way. He took a deep breath. ‘We’re going to be OK, Kate. It’s not far. It’ll be like a slow walk on a warm summer’s night.’
70
They were moving forward by the dim light of his mobile phone, which flickered off every few seconds and barely illuminated their feet. Every step appeared to take a minute, every few yards felt like an interminable mile. In the near-absolute dark the passages seemed never-ending. He listened for any sound other than their hesitant footfall, sensing Kate’s grip on his belt that left both his hands free in case Renton attacked them.
‘Are you OK?’ he would whisper every minute or so.
‘Uuuumm,’ she would reply.
Every bend fe
lt like a trap that a demented Renton might spring, every heartbeat a roll of thunder that might drown the sound of him moving in the darkness ahead.
Jim could feel the hum of life in the tunnels but was that Kate or Renton? The pitch black of the way ahead was almost unbearable, a paralysing blanket that dragged at their progress like sticky mud underfoot.
Was he retracing his steps or sending them further into the maze?
Kate pulled at him and he stopped. ‘Ssh,’ she whispered.
He listened but heard nothing. They were at another corner: was Renton waiting for them on the other side?
Jim took a deep breath and listened. A faint scratchy sound came from beyond. A moment later he realised quick footsteps were coming their way. He pulled her hand from his belt and touched her face. It was cold. He stroked her cheek as the steps drew nearer. There was no light, no torch beam. Someone was almost upon them.
He was going to jump out, wrestle Renton to the floor and beat him with his fists until he stopped moving. He had to do it blind and without hesitation.
The steps were seconds away. He counted them down as they approached.
He dived out into the space he estimated Renton to have reached.
‘Christ!’ someone yelled, as Jim launched a series of blows into the darkness. ‘Jim! Stop, for fuck’s sake.’
‘Smith?’ said Jim, startled.
‘Yes.’
A torch came on and he could see part of Smith’s face: the rest was covered with night-sight goggles, which were now askew.
‘Get us out of here fast,’ said Jim.
‘You’ve got the girl?’ said Smith, apparently in some pain.
‘Yes. Follow me.’ Jim turned and headed into the other tunnel. ‘Kate?’
Smith’s torch illuminated the passage.
Kate was slumped on the floor.
Jim threw himself down beside her. ‘Kate – are you OK?’
‘Just about,’ she said.
‘We’re getting out now – we’ve got help. Can you stand?’
‘Almost,’ she said.
Jim jumped up and took her good hand.
‘I’m OK really,’ she said, Jim’s arm around her waist now, hauling her up. ‘I’m just shaky.’
Jim looked at Smith. ‘I hope you know a fast way out.’
‘Yes,’ said Smith. ‘I’ve a map.’ He tapped his goggles. ‘All in here.’
‘Can we go, then?’ said Kate, sagging in Jim’s embrace. ‘I’ve almost had it.’
71
Renton pushed the manhole cover up and slipped it to one side. For now, his immense frustration was overwhelmed by the tension of emerging into the light, like an insect breaking out of a pupa. It was not normal to appear from the earth like a phantom – it might expose him to those hunting him above.
He glanced about. Across the road there was a line of white vans and policemen looking towards fields and the far building of the campus. Their focus was exactly wrong. To them, their challenge lay within the bounds of the university so they were blind to him. He stepped off the grass verge on to the pavement and turned right, walking away from them, now a mere ninety degrees from their gaze. He smiled: that was all it took to foil these simple people.
Smith and Jim knelt by Kate as the paramedics strapped her into a stretcher, then got to their feet as she was hoisted up from the tunnel to the hatchway above.
Jim’s hands were over his mouth.
‘She’ll be OK,’ said Smith. ‘Now we’ve got her she’ll be fine.’
Jim saw the tail end of the stretcher disappear. ‘Let’s get the hell out of this place,’ he said. ‘And when we’re above ground again I’ll leave you to catch that creep Renton.’
Smith shook his head. ‘This is a right old Pandora’s box. Let’s just say this Frankenstein shit we’ve uncovered is funded by people in a lot of important places. You can break the rules for the people who make them. You know how it is.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ said Jim.
‘Get Renton for a start. It might be the only action I’ll be allowed before I have to start covering my arse.’
Jim’s fingers were sticking together where Kate’s blood had dried. He looked up at the light coming through the hatch. ‘I’m off,’ he said, and made for the ladder.
72
Jim lifted himself carefully out of the hatch into the cramped space. Stafford was offering him his hand but he didn’t take it. His butler and a policeman were clearly shocked by his appearance. He looked down at himself. He was covered with blood and grey dust. He stepped out to let Smith up.
‘Well done,’ said Stafford, grabbing him by both arms and almost shaking him.
‘Thanks,’ said Jim, as Smith stepped out of the hole, stooped as if he was in danger of banging his head.
‘Christ you’re a mess,’ Smith said to Jim.
‘Thanks,’ said Jim. ‘You don’t mind if we scram?’
‘Go on,’ said Smith. ‘I’ll keep you up to date on any developments.’
Jim clapped him on the back. ‘Thanks again,’ he said.
‘For what?’
‘Coming down there.’
‘Shouldn’t have let you go alone,’ he said. ‘That was rubbish of me.’
Jim shook his arm. ‘Thanks anyway.’ He grinned.
‘I’m going to have to ask you later why you showed up here,’ said Smith.
‘Sure,’ said Jim, as Stafford stepped past them. ‘There isn’t much of a story, apart from a mad genius, bunkers full of military equipment, the fountain of youth, you know the kind of thing.’
Smith nodded. ‘Just the usual, then.’
‘Come on, Jim,’ said Stafford, throwing him a beady look. ‘Mustn’t linger.’
‘Yes,’ said Jim, casting an eye at the open hatch. ‘Let’s get home.’
73
Cardini was seated at McCloud’s desk, in the huge leather chair that McCloud had used as a throne.
Marius had taken the rather strange investigators away. They had seemed to Cardini remarkably relaxed. Was the locale so violent that dead bodies were treated in the same way as minor road accidents?
He had expected rounds of heavy questioning but instead had received little more than a request for his personal details. He had had almost no opportunity to tell them he knew nothing of what had gone on.
They had immediately accepted that he had been asleep in his bedroom. It was almost as if they had decided already that everything was in order. The whole situation was bizarre. Perhaps it was just the beginning. Perhaps he’d be trapped there for weeks as the investigators tried to snare him with a game of cat and mouse.
He rocked in the chair as he tried to think through all the things that could possibly happen next and how he should react.
It was impossible to predict what the outcome might be. He had no idea how these things developed. It was fortunate that McCloud had disabled the surveillance systems, or Cardini’s goose would have been well and truly cooked. What a recording that would have made.
Cardini began to dwell on Jim. Who, or perhaps what, exactly was he? Cardini had met many rich men, many titans of industry and politics, but never someone so apparently plain on first impression yet so clearly dangerous. The man was a killer. What freak of probability had thrown his DNA together to produce such a remarkable chimera?
The door opened and Joe Marius came in. He closed it behind him carefully and approached the desk. ‘Professor, I’m so sorry – what can I say? I’m horrified by what’s happened. I just want to say I’m so deeply shocked and upset by everything I can hardly contain myself.’ His face didn’t match his words.
‘What now?’ said Cardini.
‘I shall arrange for you to go back to England,’ replied Marius.
‘Go back?’ boomed Cardini, surprised. ‘How soon?’
‘As soon as you wish,’ said Marius, pressing his hands together. ‘I can organise the jet whenever you want.’
Cardini studied him for sever
al seconds. Could it be that he was free to leave? ‘That is very good of you.’ He fixed Marius with a stare. ‘Do they know what happened?’
‘Yes,’ said Marius. ‘Apparently Mr McCloud disturbed a guest who was out of bounds in the mansion. They got into a terrible fight and both died in the struggle.’
‘Incredible,’ said Cardini.
‘It’s almost too much to take in.’ Marius was fixing Cardini with his own stare. ‘Professor …’
‘Yes?’ replied Cardini, slowly.
‘Now that Mr McCloud is no longer with us …’
‘Yes?’
‘… I need to ask you something in all confidentiality.’
‘Yes?’
Marius wrung his hands and began to quiver. ‘The treatment.’
Cardini nodded.
‘It’s always seemed to me a miracle.’
Cardini nodded again.
‘And I wondered … What exactly is it?’
‘Indeed.’
‘And what would its effects be on someone young, like …’ he smiled nervously ‘… myself?’
‘The effects are remarkable,’ said Cardini.
Marius looked at him, agog. ‘Could I … might I … ?’
‘Experience it?’ Cardini leant forward, looking deep into Marius’s eyes.
‘Yes.’
Cardini sat back. ‘Certainly. Now?’
‘Now.’ Marius twisted from right to left, like a puppet yanked on its strings. ‘Of course, yes, of course.’
‘You realise the consequences?’
‘The consequences?’
‘Of looking into infinity …’
Marius stared at him, clearly riveted at the prospect.
‘… and of infinity looking back into you?’
Marius gasped. ‘Please, Professor, give it to me.’
‘Very well,’ rumbled Cardini, and picked up his doctor’s bag. He rounded the desk and loomed above Marius. He placed the bag on the table and opened it. There was a rattle of contents. He took out a small vial and removed the top. His hand dipped into the bag and returned effortlessly with a thin strip of paper. He dipped it into the liquid, the perfume of pears filling the space around them.
First Horseman, The Page 18
