46
Symington was about halfway along the narrow ledge, the wavering beam of Daley’s torch her only light. The machine gun hung off her back by its webbing strap. She stopped, trying to control her breathing and master her fear, the way she had been taught to do when climbing the crags and peaks in the north of England. This though, was another discipline entirely.
Again, she edged forwards, sliding snow off the ledge with the side of her boot as she went.
For some reason, something in the periphery of her vision made her glance below her feet. She had broken the first and most simple rule – don’t look down. But she could see what had prompted the reflex action. There, about two floors down and to her right, she saw a flickering flame pass one of the long windows on the spiral stairwell.
They’re coming, she thought, the notion making her catch her breath. She felt herself slowly falling back from the stone wall. She tried to gain purchase on the slick surface, but with no success.
Desperately, she groped above her head.
‘Carrie!’ shouted Daley, as he watched her slip into the darkness.
*
More had two floors left to climb.
‘Steady mate, she’ll be right,’ he muttered under his breath as he paused yet again, the flame guttering in the draft from one of the tall windows.
All he had to do was keep the flame alive. Soon this tiny speck of light would become an inferno that would consume those he most despised.
Just as she lost hope, her hand grasped one of the bars protruding from wall above her head. She cried out as her feet slipped on the ledge, but managed to steady herself.
On the balcony behind her, Daley breathed a sigh of relief. He had fully expected to see the slight figure of the superintendent falling through the darkness onto the rocks and breaking waves below.
Symington hurried along, the thought that someone was climbing the stairs driving her on. In a few more steps she reached the long window and grabbed onto the catch. At first it wouldn’t turn, but as she applied all of her strength the handle gave and she pulled the window open with a dull crack. The stench of petrol assaulted her senses.
She placed her right foot on the sill then flung herself through the window and onto a wide window ledge in the dimly lit passageway.
More hesitated as he reached the top step. He was sure he’d heard something, but there was no way anyone could have escaped the ballroom. Those security doors would have withstood a tank being driven at them.
As he stepped across the landing, the flame guttered unexpectedly and he looked up. Standing before him in the dim light of the emergency LED bulbs stood the policewoman who had visited he and his wife when they had discovered the tiny skeleton on the Rat Stone.
‘Stay where you are, Reverend More,’ said Symington. She was pointing an automatic weapon at him with a determined look on her face.
‘Well, never thought I’d be seeing you again,’ said More, edging forwards. He noted that her face was bruised, her right eye swollen, the gun shaking in her hands.
‘Not another step!’ shouted Symington. ‘I will fire. I know you’re trying to ignite the corridor. No matter what you feel about the Shannons, leave this to us.’
‘Oh, it’s not just those bastards I’m worried about. What about your mate – DS Scott? I heard what happened to my wife at the Stone. No matter what she did, she didn’t need to die.’
‘We tried to find you. We have a situation here, please don’t make matters worse. You can walk away from this, you have my word.’
‘Situation? That’s a bit of a euphemism, Superintendent. Some of the richest and most powerful people in the world are imprisoned by bloody nutters, while I get ready to roast the lot of you. I don’t think “situation” even begins to cover it.’
‘This is your last warning, sir. I will fire if you come any closer.’
‘You know, being a man of the cloth gives you an advantage over other folks. I don’t mean having a hotline to the man upstairs, either. I don’t know what my wife was involved in, but I know she wanted to wipe out the Shannons as much as I do.’ He took another step nearer to the police officer. ‘You learn to see the truth in people’s eyes. You could no more shoot me than float down those stairs, Superintendent.’ He lunged forwards, the large candle held out at his side.
Carrie Symington didn’t hesitate. She fired a short burst at More’s legs. He wasn’t in possession of a weapon as such, but if that fuel was ignited he would take many lives, as surely as if he lined people up against the wall and shot them.
The candle rolled across the floor, its flame now a line of harmless grey smoke.
‘Guess I was wrong about you,’ said More weakly. Blood was pouring from the wounds in his legs.
Symington looked down at him and considered trying to stem the flow of blood with some improvised tourniquet. Then she noticed the damp stain spreading across his belly.
As though he’d read her thoughts, he looked down and placed his hand over the wound. ‘Don’t worry, Ma,’ he said, as his eyes lost focus.
Daley heard the gutter of gunfire. He looked across at Brady, who was still holding Nadia around the neck. What was left of his security team kept their weapons trained on the captives. ‘Looks like your boss has been successful,’ called Brady. ‘Unless she wasn’t the one doing the firing, that is.’
Daley rushed to the doors, again trying to push them open. ‘Superintendent, can you hear me?’ he shouted. There was no reply and he was about to shout again when he heard movement from behind the huge doors. ‘Ma’am, is that you?’
‘Listen, Jim,’ said Symington, dispensing with all formality. ‘I’m going to free the doors but this whole place is soaking in petrol. Everyone is going to have to take it really easy, OK?’
Daley turned to the people now crowded around him. He could see Scott standing in front of the group, his weapon pointed at Brady and his captives at the far end of the room.
‘Listen, everybody, when the doors open, you’re all going to have to leave this room in as orderly a fashion as you can muster. As you can smell, the place is dripping in petrol, so the least spark will set the whole thing ablaze. Do you understand?’
He looked around. Old, young, fat, thin, beautiful, ugly – they all had one thing in common: they wanted to get as far away from the ballroom of Kersivay House as possible.
‘OK, ma’am. Go for it. Brian, back up towards me as they leave the room.’ Scott nodded his head as something metallic clanged from the hallway and the doors swung open.
Before he could say anything, Daley was pushed back by a wall of people, all desperate to get away from Brady and his henchmen. Daley cursed as he was forced out of the room in the melee.
He felt himself falling and desperately tried to regain his footing. He managed to stay upright and forced his way back into the room towards Scott.
‘Jimmy,’ called Scott. ‘Get out of here, man!’
‘I have to stay, Brian.’
It was as though the crowd was being sucked from the room. Soon they had all vanished and Daley heard the large doors close with a bang.
Symington watched the figure of DCI Jim Daley disappear behind the heavy steel doors. As they slammed shut, she saw sparks dance in the gloom. ‘Quickly, everyone out of the corridor!’ she shouted as, with a muffled thud, the petrol caught fire.
47
Dunn was making her way back along the road towards Kersivay House. She had managed to raise the alarm and hoped fervently that the arrival of a band of brawny farmers with shotguns might sway things in their favour. She had no idea what was happening up at the mansion and the worry made her heart race.
She saw a tall figure standing on the road and as she approached realised that it was Jock, breathing heavily as he stared out into the bay.
‘Sorry, my dear. I gave up. The years have taken their toll, right enough.’
‘Don’t worry. Your friend is spreading the word. Hopefully we’ll get some help
soon,’ she replied, staring at the loom of the mansion in the distance. Low lights emanated from the distant windows, but she didn’t know what was happening behind the high stone façade.
‘I’m not sure that’s good news,’ said Jock, nodding towards the bay.
Dunn followed his line of vision. As the pale moon shone through low cloud, she could make out a dark shape. A large vessel was sitting at anchor, no more than a mile off Blaan’s shore. Even to the untrained eye, it had low, sleek lines and looked like the expensive vessels owned by the super-rich, normally harboured in more exotic climes in the Mediterranean or Caribbean.
‘Somehow, I don’t think it’s the Royal Navy,’ observed Jock.
Daley watched as Ailsa calmly took her seat at the head of the long table, as though she was taking her place at another board meeting, not facing a foe bent on destroying the whole family.
‘Who said you could sit down?’ asked Brady, levelling his weapon at the old woman.
‘I don’t need your permission to sit down in my own house, Charles.’
Daley could hear the fire blazing beyond the thick doors. ‘Never mind that, we have to get out of here somehow. Those doors won’t hold back that fire for long.’
‘How could you be part of this?’ said Brady, ignoring Daley. ‘You’re only a Shannon by marriage. It’s as though you’ve become one of them. I know how much you’ve influenced the running of this company in the last fifty years. You’re the real boss.’
‘What the hell do you mean?’ asked Maxwell. ‘My father ran this organisation for years while Ailsa and Bruce sat back and enjoyed the spoils.’
‘You really are a stupid little fuck, Maxie. So full of yourself you can’t see what’s right in front of your eyes.’
‘Now, now,’ said Ailsa wearily. ‘What does it matter who did what and when? It’s all in the past. We spend far too much time in this family looking backwards. I’m as guilty of it as anyone.’
‘You don’t have to worry about that any more, there isn’t any future for you to look forward to. We’re going to die here. It will be the end of this company and all it stands for,’ said Brady.
Ailsa hesitated, her hands held in front of her face, as though in prayer. ‘I always find that one’s perception of the realities of life differs somewhat from what’s really happening. Don’t you agree, Charles?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Meaning that I know much more than you think.’
‘Don’t try and manoeuvre me the way you do with your stupid nephew or your pickled son. I know what you’re all about. I’ve made it my business to find out.’
‘Oh yes, breaking into pensioners’ houses to steal old photographs and butchering the journalists sent to investigate what was going on.’
Brady hesitated, put off his stride. ‘How do you know about all of that? The old man – I bet you don’t know who he really is.’
‘Percy, you mean? I think I can guess what you’ve found there. But what about your mentor?’
‘What about him?’
‘Oh, a mystery benefactor selects a child he sees promise in and inculcates him into the ways of an ancient brotherhood. I know what influence the Society of the Golden Bough has had over the years. Governments, crime, business; all ready to serve and prosper – isn’t that what you say? All ready to jump to each other’s assistance when things get tough.’
‘I would have had a very different life if it hadn’t been for the Brotherhood, have no doubt about it. Our world is in free fall because of institutions like this. We are here to save it.’
Aitcheson and the other two captive police officers looked on as this exchange took place. Bruce held his daughter, utterly taken aback by his mother – by everything, in fact. He’d always known that he had been kept in the dark, away from what really went on with the company. Now he was beginning to realise how little he knew about everything else in life.
‘Why don’t you tell him, Ailsa?’ asked Daley. ‘Tell him who you really are and the real reason you became involved with the Shannon family.’
‘Why, DCI Daley, how clever of you. You’ll indulge me for a few more moments. Those doors are designed to hold back a fire – could hold back a small army, in fact. Time enough for me to tell my short tale.’
‘What is this?’ asked Brady, looking between the big policeman and the old woman.
‘Like you, I was groomed to serve a greater purpose. You didn’t know that?’ Ailsa said quietly. ‘I was beautiful, once – clever, too. I know that’s hard to imagine now. Well, the beautiful part, at least.’
‘We’ve all got a past, Ailsa. Who the fuck cares? Pretty girl with brains marries the heir to a mega business. It’s happened since the dawn of time.’
‘I was brought up to despise the Shannon family. We had lost everything at their hands. Our livelihood, our home – all long before I was born, but the hatred was passed down to me.’
Bruce gaped in amazement. He looked to his cousin Maxwell, whose face bore a similar expression.
‘My grandfather spotted my potential. He made sure, through his influential friends, that I had the best education money could buy and moved in all the right circles. Oh, no, not rural Ireland for me, but Oxford and all that went with it. That’s where I met my future husband – engineered, of course.’
‘Mother, what the hell are you saying? That you were coerced into marrying Father?’
‘Well, that’s partially true, darling. More accurate to say he was coerced into marrying me. Men are so stupid – a quality passed down in spades to you, I’m sad to say.’
‘I don’t understand. You married my father and it was arranged by somebody else?’
‘Oh, yes. All very clever. But my grandfather was a clever man, you know.’
‘And who was he?’ asked Bruce, now thoroughly bewildered.
‘Nathaniel Stuart,’ said Daley. ‘Ailsa is Nathaniel’s granddaughter.’
Brady looked as though the scales had fallen from his eyes. He glared at the old woman. ‘Nathaniel Stuart was your grandfather?’ He could hardly make the words form in his mouth.
‘Odd, isn’t it. For all those years, until Maxie’s old man went gaga, it was Nathaniel Stuart’s granddaughter running the great Shannon empire.’
In the distance, through the tall doors to the terrace, a thudding noise could be heard, growing louder.
‘A chopper!’ shouted Aitcheson. ‘I knew we would get reinforcements.’
Brady ran over to the French windows and looked out beyond the snow-covered terrace. Sure enough, a helicopter was flying over the bay towards the mansion, lights flashing on its undercarriage.
‘I urge you to give yourself up, Mr Brady. Whatever you were trying to achieve here, it’s not going to happen now,’ said Daley, the relief in his voice plain.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mr Daley,’ said Ailsa. ‘The helicopter is coming for me. But he’s right, please give yourself up, Charles.’
‘Look around the room, Ailsa. It doesn’t matter if you have a whole fleet of helicopters outside. You’re in this room and you’re not leaving. Not alive, anyway. They can take away your body in a bag.’ The intent in Brady’s voice was plain.
‘Oh, really,’ she replied, examining her fingernails. ‘Neville, if you please.’
Slowly, the security guards who had been taking their orders from Brady turned their guns on him.
‘Put the gun down,’ said Nev.
In a heartbeat, Brady swung round and caught Nadia by the sleeve, pulling her towards him. ‘I’m not finished yet,’ he roared.
48
Daley looked on dumbfounded. ‘Are you people all mad? All that matters is that we get out of here alive. Mrs Shannon, tell us about the helicopter.’
‘As I said, Mr Daley, that’s my escape route. The job here is done, the threat to the company about to be removed.’
‘Your brother is dead,’ said Daley.
‘What?’
‘Percy – or whatever hi
s real name was. He died earlier. I’m so sorry. His heart gave out. He was trying to save my officer’s life – all of our lives, come to that.’
Bruce looked at his mother as she sat heavily in her seat, the blood draining from her face. ‘Your brother? My uncle? This just gets more weird.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Brady, still struggling with Nadia. ‘Trust me.’
Scott and Symington fled down the spiral staircase. When they were two floors below the ballroom, and the conflagration, Symington stopped, breathing heavily.
‘What are we going to dae now, ma’am?’
‘It’s not exactly how we envisaged things panning out, DS Scott.’
‘Aye, well, that’s oor Jimmy for you. Nae half measures and that’s a fact.’
‘Those heavy doors will keep the blaze at bay for a while, but I’m not sure what else we can do,’ she said, a note of panic in her voice. ‘But it’s my job to save everyone in that room and that’s what I intend to do.’
‘Aye, good luck wae that, ma’am. The only thing I can think of is if they shin doon the front o’ the hoose somehow.’
‘I’m not sure that “shin doon” is going to be an option. What’s that noise?’
They listened as a distant thud became louder.
‘Sounds like a helicopter, ma’am,’ said Scott, hope in his eyes.
Ailsa smiled weakly at Brady. ‘As you get older, the utter futility of life strikes you more and more. So many deaths – and now my brother. Let my granddaughter go, Charles, and I’ll save you from this.’
‘And then?’
‘And then we’ll have to see. It’s a chance you must take. I’m pragmatic, of course. Nathaniel Stuart made sure of that. I’m sure he did the same for you.’
From behind, the great doors shook, as if something had exploded. The roar and crackle of the fire was much louder now, held back only by the heavy doors and thick walls of Kersivay House.
The Rat Stone Serenade Page 30
