The last followers to be ushered in were the bakery staff, dressed in white overalls and looking bemused. Malone reflected that Pentworth's main bread supply was going to be late in the morning.
There were still two more to come. A commotion outside the door and Adrian Roscoe's voice, bringing down heavenly curses on his handlers, announced the cult leader's imminent arrival. The double doors burst open and Roscoe and Faraday were bundled none too gently in the dining hall by six morris police. In deference to their wounds, neither were handcuffed. Roscoe was wearing his customary white gown.
"They were claiming sanctuary in their solar temple," a morris police officer explained. "Mr Roscoe threatened us with divine retribution if we laid a finger on them. The upstairs call centre must be closed because we seem okay so far. That's everyone accounted for, sir."
Malone nodded to Russell Norris for the search of Pentworth House to begin. It was to be a very thorough search -- not just Pentworth House itself from attics and roof spaces to cellars, but also every outhouse, and every agricultural building including the bakery and the piggeries.
Malone could feel the intensity of Roscoe's incredibly blue eyes across the length of the dining hall.
"Ask them to sit down," said Malone.
"Spawn of Satan!" Roscoe spat, levelling a finger at Malone. "You have profaned our temple! The constant prayers of our sentinels to protect the earth from the fate that God meted out to the fourth planet have been broken! You will pay the price in hell and the earth will be destroyed!"
A particularly large morris policeman encouraged Roscoe to sit by kicking his feet from under him. Faraday, not wishing to add to the stress on his broken arm, sat without persuasion. The policeman held a roll of duct tape under Roscoe's nose and made it clear that he was prepared to use several metres of the stuff on Roscoe's face if he didn't belt up. The cult leader decided that silence was a sensible option.
"I expect you're all wondering why I've called this meeting," said Malone when quiet had been restored. One of the bakery staff actually laughed. "Well -- you will all find out in the fullness." He scanned the sea of watching faces and found one that he recognised. Helen Costello -- a tall, sensible blonde whom he had had dealings with before -- one of Roscoe's senior sentinels. She was wearing a long nightdress. He caught her eye and held it. "Helen -- I'd like to talk to you first." With that he rose and entered a small side room that he had already identified as a suitable interview room. A cutlery trolley served as a desk. Two morris police guided the girl into the room.
"Take the tie off her."
One of the morris police used a watchmaker's screwdriver to release the cable tie around the girl's wrists so that it could be reused. Malone waved her to a chair and indicated that the two policemen should remain.
She sat and watched him, rubbing her wrists, her expression more one of puzzlement than trepidation.
"I'm sorry to have so rudely disturbed your sleep, Helen," said Malone. "But needs must. I've good reasons for believing that Ellen Duncan, Victoria Taylor and Claire Lake have been abducted and brought here earlier tonight."
The girl looked genuinely taken back.
"I'm not saying that you had anything to do with it," Malone continued. "What I want to know is where they're likely to be hidden. It'll save my men having to tear this place apart."
Helen was startled by the news. She shook her head. "Whatever you've heard, Mr Malone, I can promise you that it's wrong. They're definitely not in Pentworth House."
"Meaning that they're being held somewhere else?"
"Meaning that you've made one big mistake. If they had been found, I'm sure I would've heard about it. No one can keep a secret in this place."
Malone was silent for a moment. He suspected that Helen was telling the truth. He spoke to one of the morris police outside the room and instructed him to keep all those he'd interviewed in a separate room. His next interviewee was Harry Shaw -- an edgy young man in charge of the kennels. He sat opposite Malone and looked decidedly uncomfortable at his first question.
"You took the hounds out yesterday evening?"
"Yes. Some of them."
"Whose idea was that?"
"They need exercise now and then."
"For which Pentworth Park is usually deemed large enough. I asked, whose idea was it to take them out of the park?"
There was a longer silence before the kennel lad replied. "It was Mr Faraday's."
"Does he normally accompany you when you exercise the hounds?"
"No.”
"So what was different about yesterday?"
Another silence. Malone repeated the question.
The youth looked as if he were about to reply when there was a commotion in the dining hall and the sound of Roscoe raising his voice and being abruptly silenced.
"I don't think you have anything to fear from Roscoe or Faraday," said Malone mildly.
"I told him that it was a useless idea," the youth suddenly blurted out. "He had some underwear that had belonged to Claire Lake. He thought the hounds could find her from that. I told him, maybe a couple of them might pick up her scent if they got near or lucky, but they're best chasing after a hot scent."
"So what did you find?"
"Nothing. We got as far as the end of the land where Ellen Duncan has her little fields and then they got confused. Some tree down there that gives off a terrible smell."
Malone said nothing. He was ninety per cent certain that the lad was telling the truth and dismissed him. There was nothing for it but to confront Adrian Roscoe.
Roscoe started heaping curses on Malone's head the moment he was wheeled into the room.
"Yes, Mr Roscoe," said Malone wearily. "I'm sure I'll suffer all manner of agonies in hell, not least being your redoubtable company."
"You have interrupted our sacred prayers! The Solar Temple is empty! The world lies naked and helpless before Satan!"
"In that case, the sooner you answer my questions, the sooner you can get back to saving the world, Mr Roscoe."
Malone expected Roscoe to start leading off again, but he remained silent, regarding the police officer with that uncomfortable, icy stare. Malone decided to get straight to point. Watching Roscoe carefully, he said, "What have you done with Claire, Ellen and Vikki?"
Roscoe actually blinked at that. "I don't understand."
"You understand me, all right. It was a simple enough question. What has happened to Claire, Ellen and Vikki? Where are they?"
Understanding gleamed in Roscoe's eyes. "So they've finally received their retribution."
It occurred to Malone, not for the first time, that the growing numbers of Roscoe's supporters meant that the three women could be hidden in any number of locations within the thirty square miles of Pentworth enclosed by the Wall. He decided on a direct question. For all his faults, Malone didn't think that Roscoe was a liar.
"A straight question, Mr Roscoe. Do you know where they are?"
"No."
"And you expect me to believe you?"
Roscoe smiled. "Whether or not you believe me is unimportant, Mr Malone. What matters is that they have been plucked from wherever you were hiding them to face their just retribution. But, if it makes you happy..." Roscoe felt in his gown and produced a pocket bible. "...I will even go so far as to swear on this when I say that I do not know where they are."
Alone again, Malone finished writing some notes and wondered if there was much point in questioning anymore of Roscoe's followers. The night had gone badly. He had mounted an expensive and abortive operation. Trouble ahead was more than a certainty. There was a rap on the door and Russell Norris entered in with a bulky, strong-smelling bundle wrapped in sacking. He placed it on the trolley and pulled the material aside to expose three shotguns.
"Found them in the piggery, sir, buried under pig crap."
"I believe you," said Malone faintly, putting a hand to his face.
Russell felt in his pocket and placed a small cardboard
box beside the shotguns. "And we found this in Nelson Faraday's room."
Malone opened the box and his black mood began to lift. Discovery of the shotguns was justification enough for the raid, but the contents of the box amounted to high quality lily gilding. It contained about twenty .45 rounds -- ammunition for the Smith and Wesson revolver that he had confiscated from Faraday before the sham trial of Ellen and Vikki.
Chapter 33.
ELLEN WAS THE FIRST TO hear the baying of the hounds. She signalled frantically to Vikki and Claire for silence.
"What is it, Ellen?" Claire whispered.
"Shh!"
They listened in silence. And then they all heard the distant, muffled yapping that reached into the cave. At one point the baying of the hounds got frighteningly close and then faded away. Gradually all sounds faded and then there was silence. Ellen was the first to speak, keeping her voice to a whisper.
"Christ. The local hunt's pack of foxhounds."
"Do you think they could find us?" Vikki asked.
"Well, of course they could. That's what they're for. The three of us must stink more than any fox." Ellen looked at her watch. "It must be starting to get dark. We don't move or make a sound until I say."
The three huddled close together on Ellen's camp bed as if the older woman could provide Claire and Vikki with protection from the terror that was lurking outside, searching for them. Ten minutes of white-faced silence ticked by. Ellen began breathing a little easier.
"Looks like they're not so good afterall," Claire whispered.
"Maybe they've been searching for us all day," Ellen reasoned. "And called them off when it got dark. Chances are they'll pick up where they left off tomorrow morning, fresh and raring to go."
Vikki began trembling when she thought of the time when she had been forced to stand naked before Adrian Roscoe. "I think I'll kill myself if they come for me."
Ellen put her arm around the girl and pulled her close. "No one's coming for us," she said fiercely. "If they try anything on, they'll have me to reckon with."
The vehemence in the older woman's tone conveyed all the reassurance Vikki needed without her considering its likely effectiveness.
After a few more minutes the three felt sufficiently confident to begin preparing an evening meal. Ellen had always insisted that they should have at least one cooked meal each day even if the fumes from the charcoal burner did take a long time to clear but there would no cooking tonight. Claire was tipping dried peas into a pan to soak when all three heard a sound coming from the narrow opening that led to the exit tunnel. They all stopped what they were doing and stared ashen-faced at the opening. There was a scrabbling noise, a metallic scratching sound that seemed to get louder. Magazines rustled in the sudden draught and they all felt the cooling draught on their bodies.
Ellen snatched up the children's walkie-talkie. "David? Mike? Is that you?"
She repeated the question twice but there was no answer. She seized a carving knife and waved Claire and Vikki to the far wall but Ellen's determined stance near the entrance imbued the girls with courage: Claire grabbed a knife which she tossed to Vikki and snatched up one for herself. The three women formed a crouching semi-circle around the entrance, ready to hurl themselves on whatever emerged.
The metallic, grating noise got louder. Ellen wiped the sweat from her eyes with the back of her wrist and tightened her grip on her knife. I'm ready for anything, she told herself: foxhounds, Nelson Faraday, even Roscoe. This time there was going to be no submission without a fight. A bloody fight if necessary.
Ellen was deluding herself by thinking she was ready for anything: she was not ready for what emerged from the opening and moved on eight articulated legs into the centre of the cave.
It was the spyder.
Chapter 34.
FOR TIMELESS SECONDS THE SCENE in the cave was a frozen tableau: the three half-naked crouching women, knives at the ready, surrounding the strange crab-like device. The poor illumination in the cave enabled the spyder's remarkable light-absorbing properties to work at their best; even when looked at directly it was difficult to see the bizarre machine when it was still.
Vikki was the first to react. She relaxed and managed a twisted smile. "It's the spyder. I don't think it means to hurt us."
Ellen had caught a glimpse of the spyder on a previous occasion but Claire had never seen it before. She kept a tight grip on her knife.
"Knives won't be much use against it," said Vikki.
Vikki. Can you hear us?
Despite the spyder's proximity, the picture of foxhounds and the message that formed in Vikki's mind was incredibly weak.
Yes. But I can hardly hear you.
How much are those animals a danger to you?
They are very dangerous.
Vikki looked at her companions. "It wants to know about the hounds. But I can hardly hear it. It's very weak."
Ellen and Claire exchanged baffled glances.
"It's talking to you?" asked Ellen, sitting on her camp bed and contemplating the spyder, her expression a mixture of fear and curiosity.
"Yes. It's like I told you when I went out."
Can the animals hear us when we talk like this?
No. I don't think so. They use smell. Vikki concentrated on a mental picture of foxhounds sniffing about as she had once seen them doing on a hunt. She tried to focus on their noses. The voice in her mind suddenly became sharp and clear.
Where are these animals?
"They want to know where the foxhounds are," said Vikki.
Ellen gazed at the spyder, marvelling at how it seemed to become virtually invisible when it was still. "Back in their kennels in Pentworth Park by now, I imagine." God -- this was all so damned surreal.
"They still keep them there," Claire whispered, not taking her eyes off the spyder.
"Those runs and the building west of Pentworth House?" Vikki asked. "Close to the park's wall?"
Claire nodded.
Vikki concentrated on an image of the kennels and the wire-enclosed runs for the hounds.
We must take you to a safe place. It is important that you are safe.
Vikki relayed the message to her companions. The spyder moved, becoming easier to see. To emphasize the point it used one of its manipulators to touch Vikki and point to the opening in the cave.
"No," said Vikki spiritedly. "I'm not going anywhere without my friends. If you have somewhere safe, then we all go or none at all."
But your safety is vital.
"So is their safety," said Vikki aloud. She plonked herself down on her camp bed. "They want me to leave without you. I don't take orders from a tin crab.”
"Atta girl," said Ellen. She looked at the spyder. "Your move, I fancy, Rin Tin Tin."
The spyder became still as if it were contemplating this unexpected rebellion.
Very well, Vikki. You will all go.
Vikki gave a grin of triumph and passed the news to Ellen and Claire. "They're sending a picture of clothes... We're to take plenty of warm clothing."
"I only hope," said Ellen a few moments later, having pulled on dark jeans and a T-shirt and cramming clothes and belongings into a small kitbag, "that this isn't a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire."
"They say we'll be safe," said Vikki.
"But will we be free?" Claire asked, lacing up her trainers.
"Just that we'll be safe."
"Well let's hope that wherever it is that it's got a bath," said Ellen, distributing some chocolate bars that David had brought on his last visit.
"You and I have to hide our hair," Vikki said to Claire as she wriggled into her jeans. Ellen waited patiently while the two girls knotted their hair under some black underwear. The spyder remained motionless during all this activity.
They crawled out of the cave, dragging their bulky kitbags behind them, and stood, breathing deeply of night air that, despite the smell of Ellen's ginkgo tree, tasted like champagne after the fetid stink of
the cave. Claire looked up at the stars and the crescent moon as she hitched her kitbag onto her shoulder and gave a little gasp of pleasure at seeing the sky after so long. The spyder was last to emerge. It worked quickly to hide the entrance to the cave and moved off at a brisk speed that forced the three women to break into a trot. A small flock of sheep bleated in alarm and scattered.
"For Chrissake tell it to slow down!" breathed Ellen.
Vikki passed the message and the spyder reduced the gait of its articulated legs.
Claire wanted to know how far they would have to travel. Vikki concentrated on shaping the question in her mind and received an immediate, if puzzling answer.
"They say to the border."
"The border?" Ellen echoed, nearly tripping over on a rock. "Do they mean the Wall?"
A pause then Vikki answered in the affirmative.
"Oh, shit -- that'll be at least three miles. There's hardly any moon. I can't see a bloody thing!"
It seemed that the spyder sensed the problem before Vikki had a chance to communicate. Quite suddenly a cone of light appeared with its apex some four metres above the spyder. It moved with the spyder and provided a broad spread of a strange illumination that was more than adequate provided they kept close together within the cone. Rocky outcrops that had been absorbing the sun's energy during daylight appeared to be much brighter than their surroundings, and the stony path they were following had a strange, mottled appearance.
"Oh, great," said Claire anxiously. "We must be a beacon that can be seen for miles."
"I don't think so," said Ellen. "I think we're seeing in the infra-red."
The spyder preferred moving in a straight line cross-country, they even took a direct route across a field of potatoes that could've been avoided, although the machine did alter its course to avoid trees when they entered woodland.
"Oh bugger!" said Ellen suddenly and stopped. The spyder carried on a few metres and also stopped. "We've got to go back. I forgot to leave a message for David and Mike."
The Silent Vulcan Page 15
