The Flood

by John Creasey

  His wrist-watch sparkled in the sun.

  “Five to eleven.”

  “We’ll wait for five minutes,” Eve said. She released his hand, and stood still and erect for a moment, then moved towards a chair. He saw a beading of sweat on her smooth, pale forehead, and on her upper lip. She was almost chalk white, and he longed to ease her distress.

  She stood up at last. This time, she leaned against the wall. He stood just behind her. They hadn’t been at the window for a moment before a clock began to strike, and as it struck, a man appeared near the rose garden. He walked briskly to the door in the wall which led to the animals, and as the clock finished striking, he unlocked the door.

  Looked at from this height, he seemed rather short and stocky. He wore a navy blue suit and a peaked hat, rather like the keepers at the London Zoo – and like the men in the glen. When he closed the gate behind him, Woburn could see his face more clearly; he seemed to be whistling.

  He went towards a spot where the harmless animals grazed, and seemed to hesitate in front of the two sheep.

  Eve said: “My father usually watches this.”

  “Oh.”

  Her breathing was coming more gustily now; hysteria would never be far away while she stayed here. Woburn moved a little closer, with the feeling that she would want to turn her head away. He could see that she was trembling, and clenching and unclenching her hands.

  The keeper bent down, and picked the sheep up. It made a white furry bundle, and didn’t wriggle; obviously it was used to this. He turned away, and now he faced the couple in the tower. He was whistling, although Woburn could still hear no sound; just then, he didn’t give that a second thought. He couldn’t take his gaze away from the keeper, from the peaceful scene.

  The keeper went straight to the lion’s cage. He opened the door with a key, an indication that it wasn’t chained, and put the sheep inside. Then he closed the door, leaving the lion and the lamb in there.

  The lion and the lamb were there together.

  Alive.

  Woburn felt himself sweating; in spite of the peacefulness of the scene out there, he was touched with the cold hand of unknown things. Now, the absence of any kind of sound wore at his nerves. He wanted Eve to speak. He wanted to know how often this happened. He wanted to see what would come next. Was this all? Or would other wild animals be given companions for the hour?

  The lamb lay down, and the lion stirred, but did not take much notice. It yawned, and crossed to its mate, who had certainly taken no notice at all of this.

  Eve turned round, shivering.

  “Please,” she said in a jerky voice, “tell me that I’m going mad. It’s only a big game reserve, that’s all. He’s always been fascinated by wild animals, he’s always loved animals, he’s always said that the wildest could be bred into tame-ness.” Now, she gripped Woburn’s hands. “ Tell me it can’t be true,” she whispered. “He can’t see himself as—”

  She couldn’t force the words out.

  Woburn said stiffly: “Another Noah.”

  The keeper down below moved about among the animals in the open pasture, and seemed to be talking to them, as if they could understand. He was an elderly man, and a fringe of grey hair that was almost white showed beneath his peaked cap. After five minutes, he turned towards the cages, and Woburn felt his tension rising again.

  The man opened the leopards’ cage, and male and female, near the door, stalked out and then began to roam about the pasture, taking no notice of the lesser birds or beasts.

  Eve said in that dry, husky voice: “I tell you that the truth didn’t even occur to me. He is so wealthy, he has his fads and fancies, he loves animals, he wanted to experiment with them. Some of these he’s been breeding for years. For years! Why” – she caught her breath – “some of these animals are as old as I. Some were caught recently, only a year ago, and he’s tamed them.”

  “Your father himself?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “He’ll go in and out of the cages without hesitation. I’ve often begged him not to, but he’s only laughed. He. . . he was quite sure that they wouldn’t harm him.”

  Woburn said in a strangled voice: “And they didn’t?”

  “No.”

  He turned his back on the window, because he could not bear the sight of it any longer; and it was the vision in his mental eye which frightened him most. Even though he had used the name, he still boggled at it, and thoughts would not run into a coherent pattern. Gradually he disciplined them; now, he had to put them into words. When it was clearly said, he believed that Eve would find it easier to think about.

  “It begins to make a kind of sense, doesn’t it?” he said slowly. “All the animals, two-by-two, bred so that the ferocity and the savagery is taken out of them, and taught to live with each other without fear.” His words came clearly, he had the picture firm, and was quite sure in his own mind that this was the simple truth. “He plans to make the conditions of another Garden of Eden—”

  He broke off.

  Her name seemed to burst into flames in front of his eyes.

  Eve.

  He simply couldn’t go on. The picture had gone misty and vague, all the outlines were lost in three letters. Eve, Eve, Eve. Adam and Eve in a Garden of Eden. Noah with his animals, Noah with his octi to flood the world, to start afresh.

  Eve.

  She spoke very slowly, and in a voice which seemed to falter with every word.

  “I must get away from here, quickly. If I do, it might delay him, might even stop him. Of course this is what he’s always meant to do.” She clenched her hands. “He’s often told me that before I was born he had decided to call me Eve if I were a girl, Adam if I were a man.” Something in what she said shocked her again. She clutched his hands. “Mr. Woburn, you must get me away from here. If he can’t find me he’ll have to stop, and I couldn’t stand—”

  She broke off.

  Hysteria was very close to the surface again.

  She burst out: “I couldn’t stand it. Do you understand, you must get me out of here. Quickly, quickly” Her breath was coming in short, panting gasps, her eyes were flashing with a touch of genuine dread – and a dread of something he didn’t really comprehend.

  Then, she turned towards the window again. Some power she couldn’t command made her do so. Woburn turned, also. As he did so, another man walked with a long, springy stride towards the door in the wall, tall, powerful, naked to the waist.

  A voice inside Woburn’s mind whispered: “Adam”

  12

  The young man opened the door which led to the animals, and closed it behind him. He was taller than the keeper, who was on the far side of the pasture land, and waved to him. He waved back. There was nothing really statuesque about him; this wasn’t a kind of Tarzan, with massive shoulders and great muscles and limbs as strong as a beast’s, but a tall, lean, handsome man, who moved with superlative ease. He tried no tricks of any kind, as far as Woburn could see, but began to move among the animals, both tame and wild, with complete freedom from fear.

  The leopard stalked towards him.

  The young man, who wore only a pair of slacks and sandals, put out a hand and rubbed the beast’s neck; as a child might rub a kitten’s fur, or a fond owner ruffle a dog. The leopard stood quite still. The man moved towards the keeper, and most of the animals turned to look at him; several of them followed. A parrot, scarlet and green plumage so bright that in flight it made Woburn blink, perched on his shoulders.

  Then, Woburn saw a panther stalking towards him; huge, black, sleek, shiny in colour. Rabbits hardly troubled to hop out of its way. It actually pushed a squirrel to one side, came up to the man, then raised its head and muzzled him.

  Eve said: “You must get me out of here.”

  She didn’t need to say another word.

  ‘Adam’ looked as physically perfect as a man could, but obviously she hated the sight, the thought of him. Downstairs was her father, either ill with his own remorse or
sick of his own lust for this kind of perfection. He had conceived this, and step by step he had gone on ruthlessly, to bring it about.

  A new flood, to cleanse the world.

  A new Garden of Eden.

  A new Adam and Eve.

  “Do you hear me?” Eve said fiercely. “We must get away from here! Did anyone else come with you? Is help near?”

  Woburn had to say: “No.”

  “You shouldn’t have come alone!” She was almost wild with fear. “We must go now, we’ve got—”

  “Eve,” Woburn said, “we’re not going. Not yet. Between us we might be able to see this through. We might be able to stop it. At least, we can find out where else the octi are breeding, what other places are in danger, how grave the danger is.” His voice was steady, and the words measured; he felt the influence of Palfrey and the Russian as he went on, looking steadily into Eve’s eyes. “We might be killed in the process. But if we had to live in purgatory for the rest of our lives, it would still be worth while trying to stop this thing from happening.”

  He took her hands.

  “Listen to me, Eve! We saw a village drowned with a hundred and fifty people in it. If we can keep our heads we might save a town, a city or a country from drowning.

  “Because you know what he means to do, don’t you?

  “He means to drown or kill all the creatures in the world, men, beasts and birds, until there are only two left of those species he desires. Two of each species – male and female. And—

  “We have to find out his strength,” Woburn finished. “At least, we have to try.”

  She turned away from Woburn and with a movement which reminded him vividly of her earlier grace she went down on her knees by the side of the chair. Her lips moved. He did not hear a word that she said, although he sensed the words: “Oh, God.” He watched as she prayed. He felt the warmth of the sun. He felt the desperate need of courage to face a situation which was beyond his full understanding, beyond his true comprehension. He could see the outline of Gabriel Davos’s scheme, could even grasp the fantasy of the conception, but – he could not see a single thing that he or Eve could do to stop it.

  Yet.

  He had to find out more.

  He had to get word to Palfrey about what was planned, too. But he had seen no pigeons – only the doves. But he hadn’t been out in those grounds yet—

  He had to find out where the danger from the octi was greatest. It would take time; precious, desperate time.

  Eve opened her eyes, and stood up.

  She didn’t look at Woburn, but went to the window. He wished that he could guess what was passing through her mind. She was calmer; at least that was certain, and the glitter of hysteria had gone. He joined her at the window, and he rested a hand on her shoulder. He knew exactly what he had to say, and also that it had to be said now. When they were out of this room, they might not have another chance to talk together.

  She asked flatly: “What do you want to do?”

  “There’s only one thing to do,” Woburn said. “I must try to find out more of what’s happening here, and you must get out, tell the authorities what we know and. . . come back to help me.”

  He didn’t believe she would be allowed to come back. He wanted her out of here; alive. He felt quite sure that he was suspected of being sent by Palfrey, that he would be questioned sooner or later, and even if he stuck closely to Palfrey’s briefing, he would be kept here.

  He might be wrong.

  If he could get Eve to go away—

  Eve asked flatly: “Do you understand what you’re asking?” She didn’t look out of the window, didn’t give the question any emphasis.

  “I know exactly what I’m asking,” Woburn said, and he sounded almost savage. “To save a hundred, a thousand or a million people from being drowned like the villagers of Wolf. And don’t tell me you can’t make the attempt. You can as well as I.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Why don’t you speak?”

  His voice was rough. “Eve, what—” he paused, with a shock of surprise and a new, stabbing fear. “Eve! We can’t be overheard, can we?”

  The question startled her.

  “No, of course not! This is just the Tower Room. There aren’t any other rooms up here. Only the lift.”

  Woburn’s fears were vivid, now.

  “It could be wired up for a microphone.”

  “Why should it be?” Eve asked, sharply. “Why—” she broke off, as if she were suddenly aware of the possibility; and she lost the colour that had been creeping back. Then, vehemently: “Of course it isn’t! Surely I would have known.”

  “Probably you would,” Woburn agreed. But he knew what could be done with a few wires and an amplifier; give him anything electrical and he could make sense. He went to the lift, opened the door, and scanned the sides. He studied the brass control panel, the stops, everything. He found no evidence of a microphone, and the lift was obviously the most likely place for one up here. He examined the floor of the small room; there was only parquet flooring, with a few rugs.

  There was no trace at all of a microphone.

  The search took him ten minutes. During it, Eve hadn’t said a word. When he finished, she was standing at the window.

  “If you’ve stopped wasting time—” she began.

  He grinned at her.

  He did not realise what happened then, and she showed no sign of understanding; but that spontaneous grin was the first thing that passed between them, quite free from tension. Her tartness had a more normal note, too.

  “From now on, we don’t take any chances,” Woburn said. “I’d like to live a little longer.”

  “Do you seriously think we can find out what you want to know?”

  “That’s not the point,” Woburn said bluntly. “We can already see some of the gambits, and no one’s likely to realise that we’ve guessed the truth. I’m bound to be questioned – and I can cope. You’ve got to key yourself up to act normally; to be yourself. You’re worried about your father and grieving for your sister. That’s all.”

  Her expression didn’t change.

  “If they should let me go this time,” Woburn said, softly, “I’ll get a message to the police. Then I’ll come back here. I’ll tell your father and others that I’ve come back,” he repeated very slowly and deliberately, “just to see you.” He could almost laugh. “Rival to Adam!”

  There was a gleam in Eve’s eyes. Hope?

  That was the moment when Woburn understood what his grin had done; it wasn’t until later that he realised that those few minutes of desperate prayer had been the turning point for Eve. He wasn’t concerned then with causes, only results.

  He went on quickly: “They might guess what I’m trying to do, but there’s no reason to think they’ll suspect that you’re helping me. That’s the chief hope of success.” He was gripping her hands tightly. “Do you see it? – you’re the hope of success. You’ll have to look for the evidence about the octi while I draw the fire.” He tried to make it sound simple and straightforward, and not a fantasy. “Just the one thing matters,” he told her harshly. “Finding out about the octi, how they’re made, how to control them.”

  Eve asked: “What will happen if my father decides to leave the Castle?”

  “I don’t know, but I can have a damned good guess,” Woburn said. “He’ll be followed. Eve.” He was facing her squarely. “I was pitchforked into this affair by accident. I came to find the origin of the octi, and God knows I’ll have to try. But I can’t be sure that we will get outside help in time. There’s no evidence of crime. Anyone who’d heard us in the past half hour would probably say we’re crazy. The best thing is to assume that we’re on our own.”

  She took that well. Woburn believed that she would keep steady from now on, and wouldn’t break down. But the deep hurt in her eyes was painful, and he had to look away from her.

  He turned and what he saw made him shout:
“Look!”

  Eve swung round and they stood tensely, watching.

  The man Adam and the keeper were walking towards the door in the wall, facing the Tower Room – and behind them, crouching as if stalking its prey, was the black panther.

  They were oblivious of it.

  Although no sound came, Woburn could tell that they were talking, for their lips were moving. Adam said something which made the keeper smile and spread his hands.

  “We must warn them,” Woburn shouted. “Can we open a window? Can we?”

  Eve moved and pressed a button at the side of the nearest window. The panther seemed to crouch until its long jaw almost touched the ground, and its great haunches were poised, ready to spring. None of the other animals seemed concerned.

  The window slid up.

  “Look out, there!” Woburn roared, “ behind you!” He waved wildly as he shouted, and saw both men look up. They were a hundred yards away from him, and there was no way of telling whether they heard.

  But they saw him.

  Both men whipped round. To Woburn, it looked as if they moved at the same moment as the panther. It went for them, like a black streak, magnificent in sleek, shiny beauty.

  Adam skipped to one side.

  The keeper hardly seemed to move, but next moment the panther was behind them. The beast landed on its front feet and, in desperate endeavour to turn before its quarry had gone, seemed to pirouette. Adam moved back, easily. The keeper stood his ground, but he had taken something from his pocket. A gun.

  “For God’s sake hurry,” breathed Woburn.

  The panther was still moving, getting ready for its next spring. The keeper pointed the gun. There was no flash and no sound, but a little cloud billowed out from the wide muzzle, and for a moment it enshrouded the panther’s head. Quite casually, the keeper slipped the gun back into his pocket, and moved forward.

  “Keep away,” Woburn cried. “Keep away!”

  Eve’s fingers touched the back of his hand.

  “It will be all right now,” she said, and waited. The keeper reached the black beast, as the cloud of vapour or gas dispersed. He put out a hand and smoothed the panther’s head, then knelt down and seemed to be talking to it. The panther was not unconscious, but lay limp. Woburn saw its haunches quivering. Adam came forward and watched, as if amused; his expression was one that one might expect to see on someone rebuking a careless child.