Blind School (19 page)

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 side 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.

The wire-frame elevator rose steadily up the side of the building carrying Tommy,
Milford
, Jed and Stevie.

Fifty floors high, only its first few floors were complete, the rest a steel and concrete floor skeleton. Its sides were completely open.

   ‘My, oh my.’
Milford
remarked, taking in the view. ‘You can see the whole city from up here.’

Tommy closed his eyes, shuddering. He could hardly bear to look, was terrified. His nerves were racing, so the vibration of his cell-phone in his shirt pocket didn’t register for a second.

Milford
stared at it as it rang, smiled lopsidedly.

‘Got a new Sim-card, huh?’

At the other end of the line Ryan muttered urgently, ‘Come on, Tommy,
pick-up
!’

Ryan strained his ear, could hardly hear the ringing tone above the blaring siren as they sped along. Sat with him in the back of the car was a
Blind
School
op-agent with Jules Mentinck in the front alongside another agent driving.

Milford
took the phone out of Tommy’s pocket and pressed END CALL. ‘Somehow don’t think you’ll be needing this any more.’

He threw the phone over the wire-frame and it sailed down the dizzying drop.

Jed and Stevie exchanged another uncomfortable glance: they’d seen some wild, unpredictable moods from Brad before, but nothing like this.

TWENTY-SEVEN

The police presence at Frank Lyle's farmhouse was formidable: five squad cars, three SWAT trucks and a helicopter circling.

A swarm of agents busily searched Lyle's farm and outbuildings while Ellis and Josh Eskovitz confronted Lyle in his farmhouse. Ryan and Jules Mentinck hung in the background.

   Ellis Kendell stared at Lyle from only a foot away, gesticulating so sharply it looked as if he was about to hit him.

‘So where have you got her, Frank?’

‘Don't know what you're talking about, I –’

‘You can cut the crap. We know every last detail of how you did it.’ Ellis reached out and ripped the jacket and protection vest from Lyle.

From Ryan’s perspective, the aura of
Abaddon
suddenly appeared beneath. Ryan glared at Lyle and nodded to Ellis.

Ellis hooked a thumb towards Ryan. ‘You see this guy, like the girl, is a

'watcher'.’

Lyle smiled tightly. ‘What would be the point in telling you? You're probably too late in any case.’

Ellis looked round sharply as one of his agents walked in.

‘Nothing in the outbuildings or tell-tale in the fields,’ the agent said. ‘Found these though in the glove compartment of one of his vans.’

The agent handed across two cell-phones with their buttons super-glued. Ellis eyed them curiously, unsure of their significance.

Ellis took out his communicator and buzzed through to the helicopter circling above.

‘Anything from your view?’

   The pilot raised his voice to be heard above the line static and the rotor. ‘
Nada
. He's got nine or ten acres here, with two fields recently ploughed and also a vegetable patch and an orchard. She could be anywhere.’

‘Okay. Keep circling. Let me know if you see anything out of place.
Anything
.’