He saw the trunk lid opening in his side vision, then he was swung inside and the trunk lid slammed back down.
Darkness.
TWENTY-THREE
Jules Mentinck had decided on an extra study session in the Blind School study after his last lecture of the day.
Something was troubling him, and he wasn’t one to give up easily on puzzles. A fifteen foot square room, it’s walls were lined with leather-bound books. Five tomes were on his desk, two of them open at set pages.
Tired, collar loose, he'd been leafing through the volumes for over two hours now and knew that he’d soon have to call it a night.
He lifted the fresh coffee he’d made minutes ago in the hope that it might revive him, then paused mid-sip as something caught his eye on the next page about fallen angel Hezekaal.
He ran one finger rapidly down as he read, rapping that same finger on the page as he finished with a sigh and lifted his head.
He put a book-mark in place, took a last slug of coffee and tucked the tome under his arm as he headed swiftly out.
It took him only minutes with Ellis and Josh in Kendell’s office to explain his thoughts. Josh looked up from the tome towards Ellis.
‘Must be worth a try. And if we don't confront him now, the chance will probably soon go anyhow.’
Ellis looked back at the Hezekaal page, weighing up.
The skydiving instructor surveyed the group of eight skydivers as they put on their parachutes and helmets.
‘And all of you packed and checked your own chutes after yesterday's lesson?’
Nods and murmurs of ‘Yeah’ returned from the group.
‘Okay.’ The instructor waited for the last straps to be secured. ‘Let's hit the big blue.’
He led them out the hangar and across the tarmac towards the plane, Lupas two yards behind John Culverton in the group.
The medical receptionist at the Belmont Clinic checked on her computer as soon as the doctor buzzed her on the internal line.
‘Yes. It's up here for nine-thirty. Second appointment of the day.’
The doctor sighed. ‘I was sure I hadn’t got it wrong. Do you have a number we could call to chase?’
She scanned down on screen. ‘Yeah. There's a number here. Looks like a Williamstown code.’
‘Could you please give her a call? Let me know.’
‘Sure.’
But when Mrs Werner answered at the other end, she confirmed that her daughter had left on time and seemed perplexed why she wasn’t at the clinic yet.
‘I... I think the buses are running okay. Let me try her cell-phone, see where she is.’
‘If you could, thanks. Phone me back and let me know.’
‘Hi, this is Jessica. I can't get your call right now... but leave a message after the bleep and I'll get back to you.’
Ryan got the same message as Mrs Werner when he tried Jessica on his cell-phone from the Blind School canteen.
He ended the call and scrolled down to try her home number. But Mrs Werner confirmed that she hadn’t seen Jessica, and when she hadn’t shown at the clinic had started to make a few calls.
‘...One of them the help-line number she left me the other day. Is that why you're phoning now? Has she shown up yet?’
‘No... no. She hasn't. When her phone didn’t answer, I thought she might be at home still. Wasn't well or something.’
‘No, she’s fine. And, like I say, she left on time.’ Then after a beat: ‘And you're a friend of Jessica's?’
‘Yes, I am.’
Mrs Werner was silent for a second, then eased a slow sigh. ‘It's not like her to simply not show for something like this. Not without saying something.’
‘I know. But it's only been a couple of hours,’ Ryan placated. ‘I'm sure there's a simple explanation.’
Darkness.
A hand reached towards the glow of the cell-phone in the coffin – the only visible light – then frantically tried punching its numbers.
They were rigid with super-glue.
Jessica let out a softly whimpering cry which lapsed into rapid, fractured breathing.
Darkness.
Quick flick on a BIC lighter which illuminated another cell-phone gripped in a hand.
But this time the buttons worked as they were pressed. It started ringing.
Tommy Rawlton braced himself against the car hitting another bump as Ryan answered breathlessly the other end.
‘Jessica?’
‘No, it's Tommy... And I'm phoning from Brad Milford's car trunk.’ He eased a ragged sigh. ‘He's finally flipped out.’
‘Whoa... whoa. What happened?’
‘I was walking along minding my own business when Milford and a couple of his Neanderthals swung by and dumped me in the trunk of his car.’ Tommy’s breath started falling short, frantic as the car sped along and he was being bounced about. ‘And I'm still there now as they take part in the Gumball Rally. That's what fucking happened.’
Ryan was heading away from the canteen when he took the call. He paused his step, cradling his forehead. He couldn’t fully focus on this now with his thoughts still on Jessica. Probably nothing anyway.
‘I'm sure it's just some stupid prank. He'll probably just leave you in your jocks in the quad at Holbrook Girls Academy.
‘Thanks,’ Tommy said sarcastically. ‘I feel a whole lot easier now.’
‘What I mean is, you know Milford. In the end he's all bluff and hot air. He's not going to actually harm you in any –’
But Ryan suddenly broke off as he was hit with a flashback: the Berith demon as it swirled away from Tracy Fulton in front of the courthouse, Ellis Kendell frantically pressing him where it had gone? He hadn’t been able to see where it went, but he had spotted Milford earlier in the public gallery and got a fleeting glimpse of Milford amongst the mob outside. Could that be where Berith went?
‘Look! This might be more serious than I thought. Don't go anywhere with Milford where you might be at risk. And where are you now? Town center... heading out?’
‘I... I don't know.’ The edge in Ryan's voice had Tommy worrying now, and the line was starting to crackle and break up too. ‘Can't get any bearings in here. I shouted out a while for them to stop and let me out, but we're still...’
The line finally broke off then, the signal dying as Milford's car passed under an overhead rail track.
Jessica reached out and patted the coffin sides, then its lid. Then heavier. Then she kicked at it and thudded with her fists in unison, which quickly became a frantic windmill flurry that left her breathless, gasping.
The coffin walls were solid, weren’t going to budge.
A sly leer creased Lyle’s face as he listened on his hands-free above ground.
‘My, my. Is that just for me, all that excitement? I know I said you need to convince me how much you love me if you want to get out of there – but I didn't expect an Oscar performance. You fake it like that for your boyfriend too?’
Jessica looked towards the voice coming over the phone with sour contempt. But the first tears started to run down her face as she struggled to get her breathing under control.
TWENTY-FOUR
Ryan’s eyes cannoned frantically as he paced along the Blind School corridor. He looked in the classroom again – still no sign of Jessica – and now this fresh problem with Tommy.
He headed along to the operations room. But there was no sign of Ellis or Eskovitz, only Jules Mentinck – who looked perturbed as he talked on his cell-phone, a couple of op-room agents by his side.
After a moment, Ryan realized that Mentinck had Ellis Kendell on the other end of the line. Mentinck acknowledged Ryan with a brief nod before bringing his concentration back to his call.
‘Are you sure?’ Mentinck pressed.
‘Absolutely. I haven't signed out any vests, or designated their use elsewhere.’ They were halfway to the Culverton mansion when Mentinck’s call came through. Ellis was in the passenger seat while Josh Esko
vitz drove. ‘You checked with the main op's room?’
‘Yeah. I'm there now. They say they haven't used any prototype vests recently.’
To Mentinck’s side, one of the agents shrugged his accord.
‘Maybe one of the lab-tech guys,’ Ellis said. ‘All tests are usually left to them – we simply put in requests for what we want.’
‘No. Not there either. That was the first place I checked.’
Ellis was pensive, stuck for any other worthwhile suggestions. He sighed. ‘I'm sure it will show. But let me know either way.’
‘Of course.’
As Mentinck clicked off, Ryan held a palm out, his expression taut.
‘Sorry. But I got a problem with a friend of mine, Tommy. He's been bullied for a while – but now I'm worried it's a much bigger problem. That... that the guy bullying might be in the grip of a fallen angel.’
Mentinck only fully detached from his previous thoughts as Ryan hit the last words. His brow knitted.
‘What? You've seen an actual apparition on this 'bully'?’
‘No... not exactly. But you recall I went the other day on a possible containment for a fallen angel, Berith?’ As Mentinck nodded, Ryan continued. ‘Well this guy, Milford – he was among the crowd heading out
the courtroom when we...’
But suddenly it hit Ryan: the missing vest. That's why he or Jessica hadn't seen any apparition on the guard that night! His breath suddenly caught in his throat with the realization, and with the pause Mentinck was looking at him curiously.
‘I think I know what happened to your missing vest,’ Ryan said.
‘What?’
Ryan grabbed Mentinck's arm. ‘Your night guard. What's his name?’
Alex Culverton was busy in the study sorting through some of his father's papers while his mother Marisa was is in the kitchen.
Coby and a goon waited in the limo outside the house, so they were first to see Ellis’s and Eskovitz’s car approaching its gates. Alex saw them a moment later on an internal monitoring screen as they buzzed to be let in.
He paused for a second before pressing the entry release.
His mother had less time to compose herself and showed surprise as she came out of the kitchen and saw them walking down the hallway. Alex nodded with a tight smile.
‘It's okay, mom. They won't be staying long.’
Alex led them into the study, and Marisa, gaze lingering on them for a moment, drifted back to the kitchen.
‘Let's cut to the chase,’ Ellis said the second the study door shut behind them. He didn’t have time to waste. ‘We know how you set up the air-crash with an automated call. Also what you got planned with Teischen, and who you're using. All we're missing is how and where.’ He held out his cell-phone. ‘You can use my phone to do it. Call off the hit on your brother.’
Alex shrugged. ‘Don't know what you're talking about. And even if I did, why would I want to do that?’
Josh Eskovitz moved in with the leather bound book from Mentinck, his thumb in the page he flipped to. He prodded at the page.
‘Because there's one thing you don't seem to have thought through fully: Hezekaal. Banished from heaven for killing his own brother. And if at any time he repeats that sin, banishment to Erebus for four hundred years.’
Ellis held his gaze solemnly on Alex. ‘That's a long, long time to have to spend out in the cold.’
Alex smiled thinly. ‘Why do you think someone else might be doing it rather than me? My, if the rumours are true about me offing the old man – then little bro would be a sheer, personal pleasure.’
Ellis’s blood ran cold. Not only was Alex all but admitting it, he was gloating how clever he’d been choosing someone else to kill his brother.
The other side of the closed study door, Marisa Culverton leant her ear closer, trying to pick up what was being said. Her curiosity at their visit had drawn her back out of the kitchen.
Alex gestured discardingly. ‘Besides, if that were true, why would it trouble you? Like you say, I'm then off the scene – in the 'cold' for a long, long time. You win anyway.’
‘Maybe because unlike you I don't feel so easy about sacrificing your brother to satisfy my own ends. But you - that's a different matter.’ Ellis pulled out his gun, aimed it at Alex.
‘Hey!’ Alex held a hand up, backing up a step.
Eskovitz looked worried too; this part hadn’t been planned.
‘I drop you right here, then cover by saying you pulled first.’ Ellis pulled out another gun with his left hand, latex gloved. ‘... Everyone's happy.
But Alex seemed curiously unperturbed. ‘Only trouble with that is – and you know how it works – he'll then just leap to the closest fallen soul. Which, straight after pulling the trigger, will be you.’
‘Except there's the other theory: that getting rid of pure evil is an act of goodness in itself.’
Deathly silence with the tense stand-off, Culverton clearly now unsure of his ground. Then more coolly:
‘But is that a risk you're prepared to take? Betting your own soul on text book theories?’
Ellis was still pondering that final bluff-call as his phone rang. He looked at its display: Jules Mentinck.
TWENTY-FIVE
As the car speedo touched sixty-five, Brad Milford’s two pals, Jed and Stevie, looked at each other, decidedly uncomfortable with his new wild mood.
On a highway, it would have been okay; but they were on an urban side-street, parked cars flashing by. One just ahead caught halfway coming out a turning beeped furiously at them.
Milford beeped back, shouting through his half-open window: ‘Watch where ya going, ass-wipe.’
And now Tommy had started to knock and kick again on the back of the trunk and call out.
‘Come on guys. Enough already! Let me out! I'm getting turned into a fucking milk-shake in here.’
Stevie in the front passenger seat glanced again towards Jed in the back, then at Milford.
‘Come on, Brad. We've had our fun with him. Let's stop and let him out now.’
‘Ah, you're no fun. And just when it's starting to get exciting.’ Milford leered. ‘You remember how Tommy hated heights – how he crapped himself that school day out on that abseil wall? Well, I've got a little surprise planned for him. Somewhere up high... real high.’
The skydiving instructor kept one hand up, his eyes keenly on the altimeter. Then as it reached 7,000 feet, he brought the hand down.
‘Okay. First one – go!’
He brought the hand up again, counting out a five-second gap – though each member of his team already knew the timing and would be silently counting in their heads.
Next to go on his signal was John Culverton. Then Vince Lupas.
‘Okay – go!’
Like the first two jumpers, Lupas bunched tightly for the first thousand feet, then went into a free-fall star position.
But his eyes were fixed on only one thing at that moment: John Culverton four hundred feet below, a sly smile rising on Lupas’s face as he saw John go to pull his chute.
Quickly sliding to quizzical as he saw that chute open. Not possible! He’d re-packed it in a tangled mess before slipping it back in Culverton’s locker.
Then as he hit that same point four hundred feet down, his expression changed yet again: raw panic as he pulled his chute, once, twice, and it didn’t open.
He looked around desperately. Only one possibility left. He’d have to catch up with Culverton, latch on to him and ride down.
He put himself into the dive position, head down and hands tight each side of his body.
The air-rush buffeting his body, he started catching up on Culverton, two hundred foot... one hundred.
Culverton seemed oblivious to his approach, his chute mostly obscuring anything above – forty – but it was as if he had an invisible antennae warning him.
As Lupas reached out, at the last second John Culverton pulled on his chute string. He shifted sharply to one sid
e and away.
Lupas tried to adjust, but the action was too swift and last-minute. He plummeted past.
John Culverton only then seemed to notice Lupas, his expression one of surprise and horror.
Impossible for anyone onlooking to discern anything untoward. But the flashback image in John Culverton’s mind was clear: exchanging the chutes between Lupas’s locker and his the night before.
He closed his eyes, due reverence, as five hundred foot below Lupas hit the ground.
TWENTY-SIX
The cherry tree Frank Lyle knelt by was newly-planted. He leant closer to it, as if that might help convey his message as he spoke on his hands-free to Jessica.
‘You're disappointing me. I thought I made myself clear: you have to convince me how much you love me if you want to get out of there. And I'm afraid all that heavy breathing just doesn't cut it. In fact, after a while it becomes decidedly annoying.’
Tears streaming, Jessica fought to get her breathing under control.
‘Maybe that's because I don't love you,’ she hissed.
‘What was that?’
Incredulous at the defiance – or perhaps he simply hadn't heard right? But Jessica had had enough of his taunting voice.
‘I said: Maybe that's because I don't... fucking... love you!’
Her voice rose steadily, and with each shouted exclamation she banged the cell-phone against the coffin side.
Though on the last bang, the phone broke – and above ground Lyle's face dropped as he was left with a dead line. His little game abruptly ended.
His jaw set-tight as he stared at the ground, pondering what to do next. But then his thoughts were suddenly broken by the thud-thud of an approaching helicopter.
He looked up at the night-sky. No lights visible yet, but from its rotor noise it was definitely moving closer.
And as the first distant wail of sirens reached him, he grabbed his shovel and headed back to the farmhouse.
Blind School Page 11
