Darkside (12 page)

“But people are going to die out there!”

Grimshaw put his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. “The doors open again in twenty minutes. They can leave then. Provided they pay the exit fee, of course.”

“But that's crazy! Why do people come here?”

He bent down until his blue eye was on the same level as Jonathan's. “Because it's life. It's tough and it's cruel and it doesn't stop any time you ask it to. Darksiders know that. And if there's one thing they love it's a good, unfair fight. They'll always come here.”

Marianne flung a bored glance around the room. “Grimshaw, the boy's from Lightside. He's not going to appreciate your style of entertainment. It's getting late. Are you going to pay me now?”

“Naturally. Step into my office. The boy is safe with the mute?”

“Humble – make sure the little one doesn't disappear again. If he tries anything funny, put him in the cage like the other one.”

The giant nodded and clamped a hand around Jonathan's arm. Grimshaw and Marianne walked behind an enclosure dominated by a baby elephant, and disappeared from sight through an exit. Jonathan thought quickly. He had maybe five minutes until they returned: this was his last chance. He craned his neck up to catch the giant's eye.

“Hi there.”

Humble gazed blankly down at him.

“I know that Marianne must pay you loads of money for doing this sort of thing, but my dad would be really pleased to see me again. I bet he'd pay you more if you returned me. Why don't we go and see him and find out?”

A slow smile dawned on Humble's face, and he cuffed Jonathan around the head. It may have been meant as a playful gesture, but the impact made him stagger and bells rang inside his head.

“I'll take that as a no, then.”

Humble pointed at the empty cage hanging from the ceiling, and then put a warning finger across his lips. There was no other thing for it. Jonathan was going to have to try to attack the giant. He knew it sounded insane, but maybe he would get lucky. After all, he still had the knife from Alain's ward in his pocket. Maybe Humble would slip and fall in the water. Maybe he would trip and bang his head on the rail, knocking him unconscious. Anything could happen. . .

Jonathan was considering whether to go for Humble's legs or his arms when a heavy weight came crashing down on to the mute, sending them both tumbling into the depths of the Pool of Pain.

 

 

T
he aquarium had been wheeled backstage sometime during the day. Ricky was dozing, but the thunderous rolling of the structure and the squealing protests of the wheels woke him up. Grimshaw's assistants swarmed over it like brown-overalled larvae, heaving and pushing it through the labyrinth of cages. Despite their efforts, it seemed hard to believe that it was possible to move the Pool of Pain. Water lapped over the sides as the assistants manoeuvred it into the corner of the room directly beneath his cage.

If anything, Ricky was more unnerved by the aquarium beneath him than he had been by the hard stone floor. He had heard the shouts and screams from the main hall the night before, and he knew that the black shapes shifting ceaselessly beneath the surface had been responsible. Feeding time was worst of all. Even from thirty feet in the air, the thrashing and the foaming, and the spreading inkblots of blood on the water, were a terrible sight. And Ricky couldn't help notice that Grimshaw was always on hand to feed the fishes, doling out scoops of meat from his bucket. He hummed happily to himself as carnage filled the pool.

Ricky tried to spend most of his time asleep, as if he might somehow wake up back in his bedroom at home, with a bottle of Coke, a packet of crisps and a new comic sitting on his bedside table. It never happened, of course. He spent his time awake staring listlessly out over the hall, with only the hollers and squawks of the animals for company. Some of the chimps waved and stared dolefully back at him, as if they understood how he felt.

Then Marianne and the giant had returned, and everything had changed. Ricky gaped through the bars with fear when he saw the skinny, brown-haired boy being frogmarched between them. He knew who that had to be. The party made their way up to the walkway surrounding the aquarium, and positioned themselves directly beneath his cage.

Whoever the new boy was, he was brave. He stood up straight and looked directly into Grimshaw's terrible eyes, in a way that Ricky could never have dreamed of doing. When Marianne and Grimshaw had left the room, he had said something to the giant that had earned him a shuddering cuff. It was then that Ricky realized that he had to do something, or they were all dead.

He couldn't explain what made him take off his jacket and begun to wriggle his way through the bars of his cage. The blood was racing through his veins, and his heart felt like it was going to burst, but his head was strangely clear. He inched out between the bars, and swung his feet round to the narrow ledge on the outside the cage. It wasn't that difficult. A detached voice inside his head guessed that because the cage was so high up, they hadn't worried about the gap between the bars being wider than those that imprisoned the animals on the floor.

The shifting of his weight had made the cage sway from side to side. Ricky could feel the air brushing his face. The mute was directly below him – but such a long way down. A splinter of doubt entered his mind for the first time. This was crazy. There was no way he could be sure he'd survive the fall. Ricky was thinking about slipping between the bars and back into the cage when a howler monkey on the ground, seeing the funny human swinging through the air, pointed up at the ceiling and screamed with amusement. Humble began to tilt his head upwards. Everything became very simple then. Ricky screwed his eyes tightly shut and jumped into the air.

The sheer time it took to drop surprised him. It must have lasted only a few seconds, but it felt much longer than that. As the world whizzed past his ears, Ricky could feel momentum building, could feel himself getting heavier and heavier. There was no fear any more, no pleasure either. He thought that he could have carried on dropping for ever, like falling off the side of the world. Then, brutally, he crashed into Humble, and everything went black.

 

At first the shock of the cold water was the only thing that Jonathan's system could register. His instinct for survival taking over, he kicked for the surface, breaking the waves with a splutter. He wiped the wet hair from out of his eyes and surveyed the scene. He had fallen close to the side of pool, within easy reach of the walkway. Humble was nowhere to be seen, but there was a boy in the water near the far end of the pool. He wasn't moving.

With a shiver of horror, Jonathan remembered the barracudas. He had to get out of here. Frantically scanning the water, he saw a dark shape cutting through the water towards him at high speed. Jonathan launched himself into a front crawl and made for the side of the pool. He was a good swimmer, and he only had a small distance to cover, but the barracuda was designed for underwater pursuit, and as he hauled himself out of the water, it managed to close the gap and fasten its jaws around Jonathan's foot. He shouted with pain, and hung on to the walkway rail to avoid being dragged back into the pool. Twisting his body round, he managed to smash his other foot on to the barracuda's head, which was protruding above the surface. His kick connected well enough to make it release its grip, and the fish slunk back into the depths.

Jonathan dragged himself on to the walkway and away from the edge of the water. That had been too close. His trainer had been cut to shreds in the attack, and his ankle was bleeding badly. A sudden flash of silver in the water caught his eye, and he realized that, in the mad dash for safety, his knife had slipped from his pocket and was now sinking to the bottom of the pool. His only weapon in this hellhole was gone. For one crazy second Jonathan thought above diving in to retrieve it, but he managed to stop himself in time. There were more important things to think about. The other boy was still lying in the water, and the barracuda were beginning to circle around him. Jonathan had no idea what to do. There was no way that he could jump in and save him – they would both be dead meat. He looked around for some kind of pole to drag him to safety, but there was nothing of the sort to hand. The barracuda were nearing their target. He couldn't watch.

With a massive whoosh Humble broke the surface of the Pool of Pain, his long arms flailing desperately. A mini tidal wave surged away from body and crashed into the walkway. The giant was having problems keeping himself afloat, and his head kept disappearing back under the water. His flailing movements immediately caught the attention of the barracuda, and they made a beeline for him.

Jonathan realized that this was his chance. He hobbled round the side of the pool, keeping his weight on his good ankle. The first barracuda darted in at Humble, who tried to shift out of the way. He didn't move quickly enough, and as the fish snapped at his fingers he opened his mouth and let out a silent cry of pain. The power and speed that he had displayed on dry land was gone now. He was vulnerable, and the barracuda knew it.

Trying not to attract any attention, Jonathan lowered himself slowly into the water. He stroked smoothly towards the boy, his ankle throbbing in protest at the exertion. The water was choppy with the battle between Humble and the barracuda. Foam flicked up into his eyes as he swam. He reached the boy, who stirred slightly as Jonathan put an arm around his neck in a life-saving hold and began to drag him back to the side.

The onslaught of the barracuda against Humble continued mercilessly. The mute giant struggled on, blood seeping out from a series of wounds. Occasionally his hands would fasten on to one of the fish, and he would wring the life out of it. But they kept on coming, and he was running out of energy.

On the other side of the pool, it was slow going, and Jonathan had to rely on his legs to propel them both. As he kicked out he saw the trail of blood dripping from his ankle, and knew that they were in trouble. Sensing the blood in the water, one of the barracuda turned and arrowed after it. Jonathan redoubled his efforts, but the boy he was dragging was heavy and they were still far from the walkway.

“Wake up!” he shouted in the boy's ear. “You've got to wake up!”

The boy's eyelids fluttered in response. He would probably come round just in time to be devoured. Jonathan took a quick glance at the side. They were eight or nine strokes away. Another barracuda had separated itself from the main pack and was making for them.

“WAKE UP!”

The boy's eyes flicked open, and he began coughing.

“Swim!” Jonathan shouted again. “Swim to the side! Hurry!”

Reacting as if on autopilot, the boy began paddling. Freed from his dead weight, Jonathan made powerfully for the edge of the pool. Behind him, the fish were moving at terrifying speed, their sleek bodies bisecting the waves. Drawing on his last reserves of strength he pulled himself out of the pool for the second time, and looked for the other boy.

Despite his confusion, the boy was nearing safety. Jonathan stretched out an arm and shouted at him. “Come on! They're gaining on you!”

The boy moaned and tried to paddle faster. As the first barracuda zeroed in on his leg, he made one last surge through the water. Jonathan's fingers latched on to his arm and yanked him up towards the walkway. The sudden movement took the barracuda by surprise, and its swoop missed the intended target. The boy scrabbled up and on to the walkway and lay coughing and spitting water.

Jonathan hauled him up by the arms. “We have to get out of here,” he urged. “They'll be back in a minute.”

The boy nodded, and staggered to his feet. Bruised, battered and bleeding, the pair of them hobbled off the top of the walkway and back down among the cages. In the water, the surviving barracudas attacked the giant with renewed vigour.

From the other side of the hall there was a huge uproar, and Jonathan pressed the boy against the side of an antelope's cage. Marianne raced past at speed. “Humble!” she screamed. “Hold on! I'm coming!”

She raced up the steps and dived into the Pool of Pain, her brilliant white hair flashing like a shooting star. Jonathan glanced left and right, and made for a door on the left hand wall. The boy tugged his sleeve and pointed at the cages around them.

“The . . . animals,” he panted. “We shouldn't . . . leave them.”

Jonathan shook his head. “There's no time. We've got to get out of here.”

He dragged the boy through the door, and they found themselves back in the curving red corridor. It was deathly quiet now; only the faintest of muffled shouts could be heard from the main hall. There was no one in sight. A cabinet in front of them was empty, and there were shards of glass sprinkled on the floor. Jonathan leant against the wall, and as he caught his breath, exchanged names with Ricky.

“Thanks for that, mate. That was some jump. You could have killed yourself!”

Ricky looked abashed. “Guess so. It looked like we were both dead anyway, so I didn't really think about it.” He paused, looking around. “This place is horrible. Where
are
we?”

“I'll tell you all about it when we get out of here. You aren't going to believe it, though.”

Suddenly a hulking shape emerged from the gloom in front of them. Ricky let out a blood-curdling scream.

 

 

M
rs Elwood folded her arms obstinately. “If you're going to treat me like a criminal, then I'm going to wait for my lawyer. You're not going to get another word out of me.”

PC Shaw resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. Things were not going as smoothly as he had hoped. Though Roberts kept saying there wasn't anything specific to link the two cases, Shaw was convinced that the disappearance of the Starling boy was connected to the Thomas kidnapping. There was something about the method of attack – flamboyant and daring, in full view of other people. In both cases, there should have been a stream of witnesses, but there were none. So when Shaw had heard that a woman had given a statement concerning the Starling affair, he wondered if this was going to be the breakthrough that would solve the case. Instinctively he thought of giving a victorious statement to the media announcing the rescue of the two boys, and bathing in the warmth of their applause.

Then he had met Mrs Elwood, and all his triumphant daydreams vanished. From the very first second of their meeting in the police station, his one prospective witness had proved belligerent and uncooperative. She had objected to going to the interview room, complained about the cup of coffee he had brought her, and was now refusing to give a coherent statement.

He tried again. “I'm not treating you like a criminal, madam. I just wanted to go over your statement again. I know you must have been upset that day – you had been through a very traumatic experience. Now you've had a day or so to calm down, you might remember things a bit differently.”

“You want me to change my statement?”

“I'd like you to confirm that some of the details you gave us are correct, that's all.”

“Like what, exactly?”

PC Shaw sighed and began to read out her statement. “‘Then a giant man, around seven feet in height, began to attack the car. He pulled the front passenger door off its hinges with his bare hands. Jonathan scrambled to the back seat and escaped on the other side of the car. The giant dropped the door and set off in pursuit after him.' Surely you can understand why someone might find it hard to believe that you were attacked in the middle of London by a giant who was able to rip your car door off with his hands?”

Mrs Elwood's eye narrowed dangerously. “You'd better not be calling me a liar, young man. We were surrounded by people at the time. There must be some witnesses. Have you seen my car? How do you think that happened? Did I do it myself?”

“Unfortunately, madam, no one has come forward to support your story. Sometimes people can be reluctant to come forward as witnesses. We've interviewed a handful of people, but all of them claimed that they didn't see anything. We haven't given up hope yet, though.”

“I should think not. Instead of interrogating me, you should be out looking for Jonathan. Anything could have happened to him. What am I supposed to say to his father?”

PC Shaw tried to inject a soothing tone into his voice. “We have a squad of officers out combing the area for him now. Initially we're focusing on the Thames Path on the north side of the river. If there are any clues as to Jonathan's current whereabouts, we'll find them there.”

Mrs Elwood harrumphed, unconvinced. Shaw sighed. “Well, I suppose that's it for now. We'll need to speak to you again at some stage, but it's late. I understand that Jonathan's father is unwell?”

She nodded. “He doesn't really know what's going on around him. . .” Her voice trailed off. “It might be for the best, what with Jonathan. . .”

PC Shaw handed her a card with his phone number on it. “You should take this. If you think of anything else about that night, anything at all, then call me and let me know.”

Again she nodded, and Shaw excused himself from the interview. The woman was clearly shaken up by what had happened to her. That could be the only explanation for her batty statement. He hoped that she would come round and give him something in the realm of reality to go on. At the moment, the investigation was stumbling down a series of dead ends, and everyone was starting to feel the pressure.

The situation was not helped by the fact that Carter Roberts had vanished. Shaw had come into work to find a terse message on his answerphone, informing him that Roberts had gone up north to follow a lead. Since then he had heard nothing more from him, save for one rather unsatisfactory conversation on the phone. The line was crackly, and it was difficult for both men to hear each other.

“Is that you, Shaw?”

“Sorry?”

“IS THAT YOU, SHAW?” Roberts bellowed.

“Oh. Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Has there been any more news about the Starling boy?”

“No, sir. We've got that mad woman coming in again to go over her statement. Hopefully she'll give us something a bit more useful than giants with superhuman strength.”

He snickered, but his boss seemed less amused. “Shut up, Shaw. You can make stupid jokes when you've retrieved Starling. Is there anything else?”

“Might be one other thing. I've just talked to Ricky Thomas's mum. She thinks the lad was getting picked on at school. I was just wondering, sir – maybe he wasn't kidnapped at all. Maybe he just ran away.”

Roberts made an uninterested grunt. “Forget about the Thomas boy for now. He's not the key to the case. Concentrate on finding Starling.”

“Well, we're trying, sir, but it's not that simple. We've got a team out looking for him, but he seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.”

There was a pause.

“Look harder,” said Roberts, and abruptly put the phone down.

Shaw was still seething about it now, as he paced through the long corridors of the police station. It had felt like they were getting close to something, but now it was back to square one. He was heading back to reception when a young, out-of-breath constable caught up with him.

“Shaw! Wait!”

“What is it?”

“You've got to come and have a look at something. You're not going to believe it, but you should have a look anyway.”

He led him up to a surveillance room on the first floor. Inside it was dark, the only light provided by a bank of television screens. The young officer seemed a little unsure of himself, and launched into a rapid explanation.

“When I saw it, I thought it had to be some sort of technical glitch or something like that, but I talked to some of our techie guys and they said that there's nothing wrong with the tape so it must be sort of real. I guess.”

PC Shaw scratched his head impatiently. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

The young policeman hit the play button on a video recorder. A fuzzy, black-and-white picture emerged on the screen, showing an empty street. “We got some CCTV pictures from a camera down by the Thames Path near Blackfriars. See?”

On the screen, a small figure came haring along the path, his legs pumping at high speed.

“That must be the Starling boy,” breathed Shaw. “Where exactly is this camera? We need men down there now!”

“That's not all. . . Watch.”

The screen flickered, and then a blur of motion flew down the centre of the path.

“What the hell was that?”

The policeman wound the tape back in slow motion. Gradually, the motion blur revealed itself to be a man. But, judging by the time in the bottom right corner of the CCTV footage, he had covered the ground beneath the camera at an impossible speed. Shaw couldn't believe his eyes.

“That can't be a person! No one can run that fast!”

“I know. And have you seen how tall he is?”

PC Shaw sucked his breath in. At a rough guess, the elongated figure had to be around seven feet. The batty old woman had been right. Something was going on here that Shaw didn't quite understand, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this case was bigger and stranger than he could ever have imagined. After all, this wasn't the first time this week that he had seen an otherworldly creature on the streets of London. One thing was clear: he needed to find Roberts, and fast.