Blood Line: What if your family was the last left alive? (The Blood Line Trilogy Book 1)

by Michael Green

  ‘How did you manage to make another key?’ Mark asked.

  ‘I never destroyed the putty impressions.’

  Despite the existence of the key, they both knew escape wasn’t certain. Aunt Margaret had a considerable distance to cover. If the Chatfield brothers decided to climb the stairs in the next few minutes and discover her, all was lost. Steven’s life hung on a thread, but at least there was a thread. While they waited, they ran over their escape plans, checking and re-checking every detail, deciding who would do what, when, and in what order.

  52

  At one forty-five they heard faint footsteps coming up the stone staircase. Moments later Fergus unlocked the door.

  ‘What kept you?’ Steven asked.

  ‘Busy knocking off my new bird, Penny.’

  Despite his flippant retort, Fergus was in a state of turmoil. Earlier that evening he’d confronted his suspected spy again. This time, under sustained pressure, she’d finally confessed. Worse still, she’d tried to justify her treachery. He understood her reason but he couldn’t accept it. Instead, he’d been consumed with anger, torn between his loyalty to her and his loyalty to everyone else. Suddenly, he felt he could keep his secret no longer. He opened his mouth to blurt out what he knew, but before he could speak Mark said anxiously, ‘Come on, let’s get going.’ Thinking of the empty baked beans tin, he added, ‘And make sure we take all the evidence with us.’

  He stuffed Aunt Margaret’s Bible inside his tunic and the matches in his pocket. He handed the empty water bottle to Fergus. Then, holding the tiny stub of candle that remained, he led them out of the cell and began cautiously to descend the stairs.

  ‘Let’s lock the cell door,’ Steven suggested.

  Fergus retraced his footsteps, locked the door, and tiptoed back down the stairs. On the first floor, he led Mark and Steven to a wall and pressed one of the oak panels. They had passed the panelling countless times when they’d been modifying the shaft at the top of the treadmill belt, yet none of them had ever noticed the perfectly fitted door. The hinges squeaked in protest. They could hear the sentry pacing up and down outside the door at the foot of the tower and were afraid he might hear. Slowly they closed the door behind them, hurried down the servants’ corridor and exited through a panel at the other end.

  Steven paused outside Penny’s room.

  ‘She’s not there,’ Fergus whispered. ‘Everyone’s in the Steeds’ lounge. Diana’s arranged an all-night vigil.’

  Mark hadn’t anticipated that. He’d expected to contact only the few people they intended to invite to join them in the escape bid. Now the whole community would have to know of their plans.

  ‘Can I keep the key to the cell, by the way?’ Fergus asked. ‘Just in case I ever need it myself.’

  ‘With any luck you won’t need it,’ Steven said.

  ‘Keep it for now, Fergus,’ Mark interrupted. He was not yet ready to declare his hand. ‘Follow me.’ They made their way to the attic room where the escape equipment was hidden.

  ‘Hell, you are organised,’ Fergus said as he watched the gear cascading out of the hiding place.

  ‘What’s the time?’ Steven asked.

  Mark looked at his watch. ‘Ten past two.’

  ‘Right,’ Steven said, grabbing the heavier of the two rucksacks. ‘Zero hour is when the clock strikes three. Do you agree?’

  ‘It’s not long, but it’ll have to do,’ Mark agreed.

  ‘I’ll do what has to be done outside. You talk to everybody and handle that side of things.’ Steven turned to leave. Mark touched him on the shoulder.

  ‘If anything goes wrong, just get the hell out of here and go back to New Zealand by yourself,’ Mark told his son.

  ‘Just make sure you get Penny and Lee out,’ Steven replied, ‘and take Luke and Robert with you, too.’

  Mark wondered why Steven had specifically mentioned the two boys when he knew that they and their father Adam were only reserves, but before he could ask, Steven had left.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Fergus asked.

  ‘I haven’t got time to explain twice,’ Mark said as he picked up the second rucksack. ‘Let’s get to the vigil.’

  As Mark and Fergus made their way through the winding corridors, Steven climbed onto the roof above the Queen’s Stable. He could see Jasper clearly on the parapet above the West Tower, and Greg pacing up and down at the foot of Cromwell’s Tower.

  Crouching on a flat section of the roof, he took three tins of pressed ham and a tin opener from his rucksack. He opened the tins and cut the meat into small chunks before taking a syringe and bottle from another pocket of the rucksack and painstakingly syringing liquid into the centre of each chunk. The liquid was a mixture concocted from rat poison, gathered after Greg had laid it around the barns, and a vial that Allison had provided from her medical supplies. Steven had no idea if it would work. He looked at his watch. The job had taken longer than he’d expected. It was one of the elements of their escape plan they’d been unable to rehearse; it had taken them all their time to secure the tinned meat, and they’d been unable to waste a single tin on rehearsal. He gathered up the chunks of meat, scrambled across the roof and peered down into the park beyond the wall of the house. He was relieved to see the guard dogs had congregated directly beneath him. His preparations had paid off. Over the last few months he’d encouraged the dogs to assemble at that point by dropping them titbits of food every night.

  He threw down the meat and watched as the dogs rushed forward, fighting with one another as they wolfed down the cubes. The commotion attracted Jasper’s attention, and he too peered down into the park. The dogs finished quickly and after whimpering for a few seconds fell silent. A little later, Steven saw Jasper retreat to the warmth of the brazier.

  Steven glanced at his watch again; it was half past two. He slithered back along the roof, climbed in an attic window and made his way through the northern wing of the house before exiting into Stable Court. He ran to the barn where the farm bikes were kept, slipped inside and poured powder into each of the bike’s fuel tanks.

  Then he moved further around the courtyard, staying in the shadows. At the third doorway he crept into the stables. There wasn’t time to saddle all four horses as he’d planned, but he saddled Nigel’s great white horse, put reins and halters on the three mares and tied their halters to the stirrups hanging from the stallion’s saddle. He looked at his watch yet again. Twelve minutes left: just enough time to carry out his final task.

  When Nigel had left the Great Hall at the end of the evening meal, he and Damian had made their way to the Turner Gallery, where they’d settled down in front of the fire and started drinking. Miles had retired to bed; Jasper and Greg were out on guard duty.

  Allison sat further down the gallery, listening to Nigel and Damian discussing who would carry out the execution. Damian had executed Mathew, but now his arm was in a sling. In fact his arm wasn’t badly hurt, but Nigel had decided the sling should be worn in public to emphasise the seriousness of Steven’s crime. They both doubted whether Miles or Greg would have the stomach to carry out the sentence. That left Jasper.

  ‘Can I go and see my mother?’ Allison asked.

  ‘No, you can’t,’ Nigel snapped. ‘For once in your life you can be a proper wife. Go to my bed and wait for me.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘But nothing, go and get yourself prettied up.’

  Allison left the gallery and made her way to the King’s Room. She’d never felt more wretched. Never had she hated Nigel so much. The man she loved was locked up with his son in Cromwell’s Tower and tomorrow she, Mark and all the community, including the children, were going to be forced to watch Steven’s execution.

  There were only two people who would take a perverse pleasure in the spectacle, and both of them were at that moment drinking themselves into a stupor. Allison was frightened for herself, too. When Nigel was drunk his lovemaking became violent and sadistic. She sat in the dark, frightened,
crying and looking out the window over the park wishing she were far away.

  It had gone one o’clock when Nigel crashed into the room and fell on the bed. Allison sat trembling in the shadows, waiting for him to call her and demand his sickening pleasure. But instead of the guttural command she expected, loud snoring began vibrating around the room. Nigel had passed out.

  Allison dressed quickly and left the room, confident that by the morning he wouldn’t remember whether she’d been in his bed or not. She passed Damian who sat sleeping, slumped across the table, glass still in hand. In the flickering firelight she saw the smile on his face. It crossed her mind that he was in some strange world, playing out a fantasy no one else would understand.

  As she crossed under Cromwell’s Tower, Greg challenged her. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To see my mother. She’s ill.’

  ‘Does His Lordship know?’

  ‘Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t have his permission?’

  If Greg told his father the next day, she’d be in trouble. She didn’t care. She was doing what she always did when things got bad with Nigel — seeking the comfort of her mother. And this time she wanted more than her mother’s comfort; she wanted to be with Mark, and she wanted to comfort him. Greg waved her by.

  When Mark and Fergus reached the Steeds’ lounge, it was Allison’s voice they could hear reading from the Bible. Mark’s heart began to race. With the exception of Jennifer Steed, who was operating the treadmill, and Aunt Margaret who — exhausted by the effort of climbing the tower — was resting in Jennifer’s bedroom, the whole community was crammed into the candlelit room. The adults were sitting on couches holding hands, listening to the Bible readings and prayers; the children were curled up on the floor at their feet.

  Allison stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Mark and Fergus. She rushed forward, threw her arms around Mark’s neck and kissed him. It wasn’t the sort of kiss cousins gave one another. What some had already guessed was confirmed. One person in particular was very interested. What she’d witnessed was valuable information; the payment would be high.

  Everybody was talking at once. ‘How is Steven?’ ‘Why have they let you out?’ ‘Has Steven been granted clemency?’

  Mark signalled for them to be quiet. He was fearful that Greg or Jasper would come to investigate. Aunt Margaret had heard the commotion and was dragging herself painfully into her wheelchair, determined to find out what was happening.

  ‘I’ve got some news,’ Mark said softly. ‘Steven and I have just escaped from Cromwell’s Tower.’

  ‘How?’ the chorus echoed around the room.

  ‘How doesn’t matter. I haven’t got much time, so please listen carefully.’ The adults leaned forward to catch his words. Most of the children had already been woken by the commotion. ‘Steven and I are going back to New Zealand,’ Mark continued. ‘You all know what we’ve achieved at Gulf Harbour. We had hoped that given time we could install democracy and make improvements here. But now that won’t happen. I have to get Steven away from Haver tonight.’

  ‘Where is Steven?’ Penny and Andrea asked in unison.

  ‘He’s making preparations for our departure. But that’s not important.’ Again he glanced at his watch, the minutes were ticking away. ‘What’s important is that we have berths for eight other people on our yacht.’

  There was a ripple of excited voices through the lounge.

  ‘Listen,’ Mark commanded, anxious to regain their attention. ‘We can’t take everybody with us and we know some of you wouldn’t want to leave anyway. While we’ve planned our escape carefully, there’s still going to be some risk. If you come with us, you could get caught, and for that reason we cannot take anyone who has two strikes against their name.’

  Disappointment showed on several faces.

  ‘In a moment I’m going to name who we are prepared to take with us. Those people will have just five minutes to make their decision. If you do decide to come, you will have a further ten minutes to collect your personal belongings and say your goodbyes. We leave at three o’clock.’ He reached into his rucksack. ‘I have eight rucksacks, and each person’s belongings must fit into one of these. We have to travel light.’ He held up one of the rucksacks. It was the size of a small shopping bag. ‘These are the people we can take.’

  The adults leaned further forward.

  ‘Penny and Lee.’

  He saw the look of relief on Penny’s face and knew she wanted to go. His relief matched hers. Then he caught sight of Diana. She clearly wasn’t happy at the prospect of losing her daughter and granddaughter, or the risks they would be taking. It was going to be a battle between Diana’s will and Penny’s love for Steven.

  ‘Fergus, Jessica and Tommy.’

  ‘Yes!’ Fergus said. He punched the air with his fist.

  ‘Cameron, Kimberley and Rebecca.’

  Cameron looked at his daughters. Kimberley nodded, but Rebecca shook her head.

  ‘Allison and Charlene,’ Mark said.

  Most people had been keeping count. They knew Allison and her daughter were the last of the eight names. There were groans of disappointment.

  ‘What about Luke and Robert?’ Fergus asked. ‘I agreed with Steven they should be on the list.’

  ‘They are reserves. They will be offered places if any of those selected drop out,’ Mark said firmly, irritated at the apparent collusion between Steven and Fergus. He looked at his watch, ‘I’m sorry, you’ve only got four minutes to make your decision.’

  The families huddled into groups. Mark spoke briefly with Paul, who confirmed he didn’t want to go.

  ‘One day I’ll be back,’ Mark promised his brother. ‘If things have changed and it’s safe for me to enter Haver, fly both the Union Jack and the flag of St George above the West Gate.’

  Then he turned to join the Dalton family, who were clustered around Allison. As he arrived, Allison looked up, lines of anguish drawn across her face. ‘I want to come,’ she said, ‘but I can’t leave without Mum.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ said a firm voice. It was Aunt Margaret. She’d reached the room just as Mark had begun to address the community and remained in the doorway in her wheelchair listening to what he had to say. ‘You must go. It’s your only chance.’

  ‘But who will look after you?’

  ‘I will,’ Warren said resolutely.

  ‘And I will too,’ Charlene said. ‘You go with Jessica and Tommy, Mum. I’ll stay and look after Gran.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Andrea said. ‘Can I get past? I need the toilet.’

  Aunt Margaret was still blocking the doorway. ‘Sorry dear,’ she said as she rolled her wheelchair forward.

  As Andrea hurried through the doorway, Fergus moved fast across the room, grabbed his sister by the arm and dragged her back.

  ‘You’re going nowhere,’ he said. The families looked around, stunned, their discussions temporarily halted. ‘She’s the spy,’ Fergus explained.

  Commotion broke out. Penny rushed forward and grabbed at Andrea, pulling out tufts of her red hair.

  ‘It’s not her fault,’ Fergus explained as he fought to defend his sister. ‘Damian’s been plying her with heroin in return for information. She’s addicted.’

  ‘Of course it’s her fault,’ shrieked Penny, as her family dragged her away. ‘She betrayed Steven.’

  ‘We’ve got to take Andrea with us, Uncle Mark,’ Fergus pleaded. ‘If she stays here, either she’s going to die or a lot of other people are going to die.’

  Mark didn’t answer; he needed time to consider the implications. ‘One minute left,’ he said looking anxiously at his watch. The minute raced by. ‘I’m sorry, it’s decision time.’

  There were a few further seconds of hurried discussion before he interrupted them again.

  ‘Penny and Lee?’

  ‘Yes.’ Penny’s voice was resolute.

  Mark heard Diana crying.

  ‘Fergus, Jessica and Tommy?’
<
br />   ‘Definitely,’ Fergus said.

  ‘Cameron, Kimberley and Rebecca?’

  ‘We can’t make up our minds,’ Cameron said.

  ‘If you can’t make up your minds you’ll have to forfeit your places.’

  ‘Luke and Robert should go instead,’ Fergus said, adding, ‘Adam, your sons are in real danger from Damian; he’s a pervert with a sadistic attraction to young men. He’s got a room full of strange contraptions. He straps his victims into them while he rapes them.’

  A ripple of disbelief reverberated around the room.

  ‘Steven knew about the room,’ Fergus continued. ‘That’s why he attacked Damian when Damian drugged him. And — I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Uncle Paul — Damian filmed himself raping Mathew. That’s why Mathew ran away.’

  Their faces reflected the horror everyone was feeling.

  ‘The three of us will go — if you’ll offer us places,’ Adam said, looking anxiously at Mark.

  Mark, at last aware of the reason for his son’s insistence, nodded. ‘You can have Cameron, Kimberley and Rebecca’s places,’ he agreed, before continuing. ‘Charlene?’

  ‘No. I’m going to stay and help look after Gran.’

  ‘Allison?’

  Allison looked at Aunt Margaret, who was gesturing at her to go. She looked at Mark, whose eyes were imploring her to leave with him.

  ‘Yes,’ she finally said.

  ‘And Andrea?’ Fergus implored. ‘We can’t leave her here.’

  ‘She can have Charlene’s place,’ Mark agreed. He looked at his watch again. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve only got seven minutes to get your personal belongings and get back here to say your goodbyes. Do it quietly. The rest of you please stay here. I need to brief you as to what I want you to do to help us get away safely.’

  ‘Don’t leave my side,’ Fergus warned Andrea as they left the lounge. ‘If you try, I’ll kill you. And don’t pack any needles or powder … you’re going cold turkey.’