During his years with Aidan, Lance had left the interrogating to his partner. His height had always intimidated suspects, or at least that was what Lance used to think. But it was more than just physical. The big man had a knack of getting information out of anyone. It was a pity he wasn't here now.
Carol opened the back door and got in.
"It's not what you think," Kodey explained. "But I can't leave here."
"Shut up!" Lance screamed, pushing him in.
A minute later they were thick in the traffic with Carol still trying to work out a way to get some answers out of Kodey Black. But he didn't say anything, and just stared out of the window all the way. Carol gave up halfway to the station, thinking about her feelings for Aidan now that he was behind bars. It had been amazing how quickly her feelings had changed. And she didn't want to see him go from the station to prison. She was going to do everything in her power to stop that happening.
They were driving at a steady speed down a wide two-lane road when Kodey suddenly came to life. Carol studied the road ahead but couldn’t see anything that might have provoked Kodey's reaction.
"Stop the car. I can't go any further," Kodey yelled.
"Shut up!" Lance told him.
"This is going to be painful."
Carol was about to ask Kodey what the problem was when his face became distorted as if he'd crashed into an invisible sheet of glass. The car flew in the air, glass and pieces of metal flying everywhere. Kodey's body was suspended in the air, completely immobile. The rear part of the car had split in two, cut down the middle by the unexpected obstacle.
Lance lost control and the car was veering wildly from one side of the road to the other. The rear had collapsed and the broken chassis was being dragged along the tarmac, sparks flying. They crashed into a parked car and bounced off into a tree. Carol scrambled out and saw Kodey a few yards behind, surrounded by broken glass and metal.
"I warned you about going any further," he said, before turning and running down the street.
She went to chase after him but suddenly remembered that she hadn't checked to see if Lance was injured.
A crowd had formed around the car and she forced her way through it. She opened the door and suddenly her legs lost all their strength. A sharp pain shot through her head. Something weird was happening. Her body was shaking uncontrollably and two men were holding her and others helped put her on a stretcher. As she was carried away she had one last look at Lance in the front seat with a tree branch buried in his neck.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 22
Helen Black was used to being looked at. She was a beautiful woman with a good figure, but the key to what made heads turn was her height. It was unusual to see a woman seven foot tall and wherever she went everyone, men, women and children, looked at her.
Today, however, they weren't only looking at her, but at how she was dressed and at what she was carrying. As she went through the shopping centre, everyone elbowed their friends, or dragged them by the shoulder to turn and see the spectacular woman dressed in an exquisite black dress with a black bow hanging off her back.
Trevor Deemer followed her with difficulty, pushing his way through the crowd of onlookers, with Helen's hair bouncing high above the rest marking his way. He had no idea what she was doing here. He suspected something was going to happen, given that they'd stolen a motorbike and crossed the city like two bats out of hell.
Turning the next corner he ran into a big group of people arguing, and fell over. By the time he got to his feet, there was no sign of Helen anywhere. He cursed and started running as fast as he could in the direction she'd been heading a few moments before. He came out into a circular mall with a fountain in the middle.
"Great throw," he heard someone call out to his right.
Staring in the direction of the caller as he recovered his breath, he recognized Dylan Blair. The millionaire had called out to a tall thin individual dressed in a white suit who was walking towards a huge black-suited man with a spear in his back slumped on the floor of the mall. A brown-haired woman stood near the dead body, and behind her a wheelchair was doing circles under its own power. Then, as if the woman had a remote control or something similar, the chair came at her beckoning, and she sat down.
Trevor didn't have time to try and work out the mystery because at that moment he saw Helen taking aim again. He bolted towards her but didn't make it in time and watched in horror as the arrow found its mark in the man's right shoulder. She shot two more at him that missed.
"Stop, Helen!" he screamed, grabbing her by the arm. He couldn't believe what had just happened. She'd fired an arrow into a perfect stranger in cold blood. "What are you doing? You're going to kill that man."
In one fast and brutal movement, she hit him with a backhander that knocked him to the floor. His head was spinning from the force of the blow as he watched her take another arrow out of her quiver. And before he could do anything, someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back.
"Don't get involved in this," the young man who had been sitting with Dylan Blair warned him.
"And that goes for you too, Ethan," Dylan said, coming up to them. "You're losing it."
Without understanding anything, Trevor followed Dylan's eyes and saw the man with the arrow in his shoulder get up from the floor, pick the spear out of the chest of the fallen giant and spin round and throw it at Helen. He hardly had time to scream as the spear sped through the temperature-regulated air straight at the woman he loved. She ducked at the last second and the spear flew over her head.
"You'll be killed if you get into this," Ethan warned him again. "There's nothing you can do for her."
"She's my bride," Trevor screamed. "And they're trying to kill her. I've got to help."
"You can't," Dylan said flatly. "And she's not your bride. It's better that you accept that as soon as possible. You need a drink. I'd be happy to buy you one if you tell me a little about your girlfriend."
Trevor gave some thought to that but was aghast at seeing Helen firing another arrow in the man's direction. It missed again.
"I'm doing it for your own good," Ethan said. "Helen knows how to look after herself. You can't do anything for her anyway."
"It sounds like you know her? How's that?"
"She's a great woman," Dylan said. "Although the truth is, you should've seen the White woman…"
Trevor was getting angrier by the minute. "What are you talking about?"
"Naturally, she was the same as your Helen, only blonde and blue-eyed," Dylan went on. "It's a question of taste, I suppose. But I preferred Helen White."
# # #
Well before he could distinguish the face of the driver, Fletcher already knew who it was. As soon as the police car came speeding into the car park and came to an abrupt halt on the pavement a few yards from the entrance, leaving the area with the smell of burning rubber, the old pathologist knew that his friend had heard the sad news.
"Aidan, wait!" Fletcher called out.
Aidan Zack stopped in his tracks. He'd got out of the car so fast he'd left the keys dangling in the ignition. "Fletcher, where's Lance? What's happened?"
"They've just brought him," Fletcher said sadly. "Carol's inside. She was with him–"
Aidan ran into the mortuary. The pathologist rushed after him as fast as he could. He had no idea how Aidan had got out of jail. But that was a question that would have to wait until later. The big problem now was how to keep Aidan from going over the top. The sight of his friend in a body bag wasn't going to help.
As far as Fletcher was concerned, Lance Norwood had been a poor detective, little more than a lackey for Aidan in the professional sense. It was an open secret that Fletcher and Lance hadn't got on, but he'd been well aware that Lance had given Aidan his unconditional support and had really been his only true friend. His death was going to be a hard load for the big man to carry.
The pathologist entered the room where Lance's lifeless bo
dy lay. His head jutted out of the half-open body bag. Aidan was beside the dead body with Carol buried in his arms. Fletcher zipped the bag up as quietly as he could, then pushed the stretcher away and called a companion to remove it.
"They have to take the body to the examination room," Fletcher explained. "His wife's requested that."
Aidan nodded, his face distorted with rage. "You've got to explain how this happened, Carol, I need to know."
Carol somehow found the energy to tell him what had happened. She stuttered her way through the strange sequence of events that had led to Lance's death. Aidan listened stoically, without interrupting her once. He hardly blinked.
Carol's voice seemed to come from a great distance, as if in a way the speaker wasn't her but someone else inhabiting her body. Her words disappeared in her mind, without leaving a trace, or even the softest echo. And when she was finished, all Aidan knew was that Lance had died and that his killer had a name: Kodey Black. He was going to find this bastard as soon as he could and he hoped that he was as resistant to death as James White had been, so that he could kill him over and over again.
Aidan didn't give a damn about what might happen to him now. He only knew that he was passing through a succession of events that had no explanation, and that had cost the life of his wife and now his best friend. Things couldn't get much worse. He had two reasons now to seek revenge. If he went back to jail it was more than likely that the dynamic violet-eyed duo would get him out again. That's how mad everything had become. Everything was absurd, surreal. Nothing made any sense except revenge.
Then something changed. A wave of heat flooded his body, immersing him in a strangely pleasant and comforting glow. He'd been in the depths of despair but something had brought him back. Little by little, he became conscious of his own body again, the sounds around him storming back, his blood circulating normally again. He half-opened his eyes and found his arms wrapped around Carol and her mouth on his.
They stopped kissing, and she stepped back and stared into his eyes. He kissed her again. He needed the reassurance of her body wrapped in his, the liquid warmth of her mouth. It was all he had to stave madness off.
Fletcher had already left them alone.
# # #
"It can't be true," Dylan Blair exclaimed, his face losing all its colour as he stared at a short, blond-haired, blue-eyed man in a white suit that seemed to all intents and purposes to be James White. "Ashley's called James. The damn woman. I wish Earl had flattened her with his hammer."
"Calm down," Ethan said. "It's not him. It's the other one. Colin White."
Ethan's explanation confused Dylan.
"Are you sure? I don't know how you can tell the difference. It looks like James down to the mole on his neck."
"They were under my orders, don't forget. The one who's in the chair can tell the difference. I guess I've still got it. You'll find out soon enough."
"What the hell are you two talking about?" Trevor Deemer demanded to know.
The dumped bridegroom had finally come to accept that Helen was involved in something that was beyond his comprehension. He'd watched her fire arrows at a man throwing spears at her. And these two men beside him had restrained him, and were now talking in riddles. But what bothered him more than anything else was how cold and calculating Helen had been. This woman with the bow and arrow was like no woman he had ever met.
"You can't understand it. And that's better for you. Forget all this, my friend."
The three men fell silent along with the rest of the throng in the mall. The shopping centre was a battle zone. People had either run off or were watching the action from a good distance away.
Ashley was still seated in the strange wheelchair a few yards behind Allan. She appeared to have no intention of getting involved.
The only thing Trevor could make out was that it came down to a battle between Whites and Blacks, which made Helen's insistence on keeping her name more interesting. And now another man in white had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. A new enemy hell-bent on killing Helen.
"That's Colin," Ethan said.
Colin White was shorter than Allan and not as thin. The colour of his skin, eyes and hair was identical. Trevor thought he would throw himself at Helen straight away, seeing she was about to finish Allan off. But after pulling his sword out he did no more than stare at Helen coldly, studying the bow aimed at Allan. But she didn't shoot. She stood perfectly still, looking at her new adversary.
Seconds passed, which turned into minutes without anything happening. It was as if time itself had stopped and turned the foes into black and white statues.
Then suddenly they all moved at the same time. Helen dropped her arm and spun around while Colin sheathed his sword and disappeared from where he had come. Ashley withdrew and Allan pulled the two arrows embedded in his body out without showing any sign of pain or even groaning, before he ran off in another direction.
"Good, it seems like the show's over," Dylan said. "It wasn't too bad. Cheer up, young fella. Your girl's still in one piece."
"And this seems a joke to you, doesn't it?" Trevor observed, still coming to terms with what had just happened. The suits, the weapons, the sudden ceasefire, nothing made any sense.
"Don't worry about it," Ethan advised Trevor. "Let's go, Dylan. Nothing more's going to happen here. Tomorrow it'll all come to an end."
"I'll catch up with James," Dylan said. "I've got a bet outstanding with that dwarf."
* * * * *
CHAPTER 23
Nine out of ten people would be shocked if they saw a priest's sermon interrupted by a rock group. And all the more so if that happened at a funeral.
Nevertheless, Aidan Zack only felt a wave of fury when the priest lifted his head from the bible and the whole congregation turned to stare angrily at the offender and the wild tone on the mobile phone he was taking out of his coat pocket. Ramsey mumbled a weak apology as he hurried off through the cemetery gardens.
Aidan had seen him only a couple of times before, always wearing that strange wide-brimmed hat and carrying the black walking stick. He didn't know what his connection to Lance had been, but he was thinking about going after him now and making him swallow his mobile phone. A soft tug on his left hand turned him back to the sad ceremony that had brought him to the cemetery: Lance Norwood's funeral.
It was a cold morning with clouds as grey as lead that threatened rain any minute. A bad day to be buried.
Aidan Zack's eyes had almost disappeared behind the large black rings that bore testimony to the little sleep he'd had the night before. He and Carol had been with Lance's family at the mortuary until late in the night and had stayed the night with them at Lance's house. Aidan had tossed and turned his way through the longest night he could remember, and if it hadn't been for Carol he would have drunk a bottle of whisky to try and forget what had happened.
Standing here now, in front of the coffin, Aidan was conscious for the first time of the great wound that had opened in his soul. The stories and experiences he'd shared with his dead partner were numerous. But that was the past now. He'd never hear Lance's jokes again or see him laugh or even have one of their many arguments. He held Carol tighter with the thought.
When the priest finished, the wailing of Lance's wife scratched the air, and made Aidan look away along the line of policemen who had come. There were many. And that was just because it was Lance Norwood. He'd touched everyone who had ever met him.
The coffin was lowered into the grave and earth was shovelled slowly onto the polished oakwood. Some threw flowers in and murmured prayers and Aidan and Carol expressed their grief once more to the widow, and then walked slowly away.
And as they did, further ahead, they met Ramsay again. He was paralysed at the side of the street, staring at the sky with an expression of panic painted across his face as if an aeroplane was about to come crashing down upon him. Aidan presumed he was just a poor fool and gave him a wide berth. He heard the chiming of bells
somewhere in the distance.
"What are you thinking of doing?" Carol asked, breaking the silence. "And don't lie. I need to know."
"Legally, I can't do much. I'm suspended until the charges against me are resolved. But that's not going to stop me finding this Kodey Black and thanking him in my own special way for what's happened."
"You can't get any deeper into this, Aidan. If you're caught harassing someone again they won't be able to get you out of jail the next time. Promise me you won't do anything stupid," she said, standing in front of him.
"I'll control myself as well as I can," he answered, looking away.
"Let's hope you keep your word. What did your lawyer tell you about losing your job?"
"Nothing I can remember. He's a strange old man. He was accompanied by a kid who carried on like an adult. They didn't seem to be related. But who knows? Somehow, they got me out. I'll have to thank them for that the next time I see them. I'll buy a new walking stick for Tedd, the old bloke."
Carol looked confused. She'd stopped in the middle of the road. Aidan was about to ask her what was wrong when his phone rang. It was Fletcher.
The pathologist sounded excited. "You've got to come back to the mortuary. There's something you've got to see."
"Is it urgent? I've got to take Carol back to the newspaper."
"More Blacks and Whites have come in. Some haven't been identified but the similarity is unmistakable. It could be that the bodies have been mixed up and nobody will ever find out."
"OK. I'll be there as soon as I can. I've got a few things to do first."
"I'm sure those things can wait. I've got Earl Black in front of my nose and Kodey Black's body just came in."
"OK, I'm coming," Aidan said, hanging up. "They've just received Kodey Black's body down at the morgue. I‘ve got to go there now."
The Big Ben mystery Page 21
