Death is a Welcome Guest: Plague Times Trilogy 2 (39 page)

Magnus said, ‘Why did you take his body to the barn? How did you get it there?’

‘The body walked there all by itself.’ Wingate smiled as if he had said something clever. ‘We were looking for harvesting equipment, just as you were on the day you and Jacob found him. I gave Henry the medicine and he drank it as we drove to the farm. He was overcome in the barn, but I could tell that he was still breathing. I was afraid he had merely sunk into a deep sleep and would wake, so I secured his wrists with some packing ties I found in the barn. I went back to the house, took a knife from the kitchen, and then I sent him to paradise.’

‘Jesus.’ It was as if Malachy had just taken in what the priest was saying. ‘You were going to let us execute Jeb Soames for murder.’

‘Every life is a sacrifice to the Lord. Jeb Soames too was worthy, as are we and all of those people out there.’

Malachy said, ‘We brought them here to re-establish law and order, but you planned to poison them. No wonder they’re baying for our blood.’

It had been quiet outside, except for the occasional shout, but now banging came from the back of the house. Paul hesitated and then hurried in its direction.

Magnus sensed time running out. He said, ‘Why did you shoot Jacob?’

Father Wingate intoned, ‘The path that the Lord asks us to follow is often hard and stony. I have cried bitter tears . . .’

Paul strode into the hall. ‘They’re breaking up the platform.’

Malachy sounded hopeful. ‘Maybe they’re taking their anger out on it?’

Paul shook his head. He touched Belle’s shoulder. ‘If I were you I’d take a chance and leave now, make sure they can see that you’re carrying the boy. He’ll be your protection.’

Belle whispered, ‘I don’t trust them.’

The priest was still reciting scripture. Magnus slapped him again. The old man started to cry. Magnus said, ‘I told you, if you don’t answer me I will take the sword Will was going to use on Jeb and shred you to pieces.’

Father Wingate’s voice was thick with tears. ‘Jacob and I were each other’s spiritual advisers. After Henry’s death I sensed a change in him. He talked of survival but I knew that, deep down, he too wanted to give himself over completely and utterly to God.’ His eyes met Magnus’s, and it was not only tears that made them shine. ‘It was a joyous moment when I was able to tell him how I had helped two souls on their way. You remember the night.’ Father Wingate nodded to Will who was standing by the stairs. ‘There had been an altercation, Jacob was tired and I could tell that he was desperate for peace.’

Will said, ‘And so you told him what you’d done.’

Tears were caught in the wrinkles in the old man’s face, but his smile was saintly. ‘He didn’t take it in at first, but when he did he put his gun on the table and said that I should be the next one to go.’ Father Wingate lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘I knew what he really wanted. I watched him cross the garden. It was almost dawn and he made the perfect target, standing opposite my window, all dressed in black against the white wall.’

Will said, ‘You shot him?’

‘The Lord guided my hand and steered the bullet towards his blessed release.’

The dogs’ whining became more frantic. They started to scrabble at the door. Paul had been sitting on the stairs, watching the crowd congregating outside. He got to his feet. ‘Can you smell something?’ Smoke was beginning to drift through from the back of the house. ‘They want to flush us out.’

Will said, ‘This place is built of stone, it won’t burn easily.’

Paul said, ‘Smells like it’s fucking burning to me.’

Malachy muttered, ‘I still say we should give them the priest.’

Magnus was leaning against the staircase, trying to absorb what Father Wingate had told them. He looked at Malachy. ‘You’re the face of law and order. It’s you they’ll want.’

Paul ran through to the kitchen and came back, his face flushed. ‘They must have used some kind of accelerant. It’s taken hold. They got two Calor gas canisters from somewhere . . .’

Will said, ‘Jacob was saving them for the winter.’

‘Good for Jacob.’ Paul’s grin was desperate. ‘They’ve rolled them into the centre of the flames. We don’t have any choice. We have to go out through the front.’

Magnus said, ‘There’s a door at the side.’

Father Wingate chirped, ‘The tradesmen’s entrance.’

Paul nodded. ‘I think they used some of the planks from the stage to nail it shut. These canisters explode at high temperature. We don’t have much time.’

Magnus put his rifle on the floor. ‘I’ll go first.’

Belle said, ‘Tell them there’s a child in here.’

Malachy said, ‘Pick up your gun.’

‘He’s right.’ Paul gave Magnus a tight smile. ‘The only way to get through this is
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
style. All guns blazing.’

Magnus said, ‘You’ve forgotten how that movie ended.’ He left Mr Perry’s rifle propped in the hallway, opened the front door and stepped towards the waiting crowd.

Forty-Five

Magnus walked out into the afternoon sunlight, his hands in the air. The dogs dashed onto the lawn and made for the back of the house. He guessed they were heading for the woods beyond and wished that he could go with them. He remembered the drugged girl in the alleyway, the night of Johnny Dongo’s O2 gig. Trying to save her had set him on the road to here. He could not regret it, even though she was probably dead by now anyway. So many people were dead. Perhaps his part of the story had always been meant to end here.

Magnus braced himself for the sudden impact of a bullet and it occurred to him that it was a shame to die on such a beautiful day. He thought, I would have liked to know how it all turned out. Now that he was closer to the small crowd he recognised a couple of the men from Malachy’s crew. He saw their guns and raised his hands higher. ‘Nobody knew about the poison except for the priest.’

A woman with an open face and braided hair said, ‘Someone should pay.’ Her voice was low, but it carried as clear as ice water.

Magnus ignored her. ‘There’s a young girl called Belle with a small boy in the house. Will you promise not to harm them?’ A couple of people nodded. It was not enough for his liking. He tried to summon his stagecraft. ‘I didn’t hear you. They’re innocent. None of this was their fault. Do you
promise
not to hurt them?’

More voices answered this time and he called to Belle. She came out slowly, her face tight, holding the child in front of her, too much like a shield for Magnus’s liking. She reached his side just as someone asked, ‘Who’s this guy anyway?’

One of Malachy’s men said, ‘He’s a buddy of the child-killer they were going to execute. I heard they met in prison.’

The atmosphere changed. Belle took Magnus’s hand. He pulled it free. ‘Keep on walking.’

Belle whispered, ‘I’m scared they’re going to kill you.’

He felt bad for thinking she might use the child as a human shield.

Someone shouted ‘Murderer!’ Belle caught hold of his sleeve. Then everything happened at once. The small crowd surged towards the house. Paul ran through the front door, shouldering the rifle Magnus had left lying in the hallway. There was a pop and a series of explosions from the rear of the building as one gas canister, and then the other, exploded. The crowd scattered and a Transit van spun from the side of Tanqueray House and skidded to a halt at the front door. The van’s side panel was open. Magnus grabbed the child from Belle and threw him inside. He pushed her in next and jumped on board. Paul followed close behind. Magnus shouted, ‘Drive, drive, drive!’ and Jeb pressed the pedal to the metal.

Epilogue

Magnus was not sure that the distant sliver of dark edged between the sea and sky was land. The wind grabbed at the chart he had found stowed in the boat’s cabin. He smoothed it against the wheel and checked the route against the compass embedded in the centre of the helm. He thought he was on course, but vision grew tricky confronted with a view of air and water. The eye saw land where there was none, boats where there were only black waves and breaking foam. Magnus focused on the dark edge of shade that hinged the sea to the sky and drew his cap low over his forehead. It was a long time since he had sailed and he had never, not even when he and Hugh had been in their fishing phase, sailed such a distance.

Magnus could imagine Hugh making fun of the orange life jackets he had strapped himself and the boy into. They had never bothered with such precautions when they were lads, but it seemed important now, even though the chances of anyone fishing them from the waters were slim.

The boy was tucked in the bunk below. Magnus did not need to see him to know that he was either sleeping, or staring into space. He had coaxed him to eat almost half a bar of chocolate that morning before they had set out, but neither of them had eaten since. He wondered if he should go below and check on him, but stayed where he was, feet anchored to the rolling deck, hands grasping the wheel. There were moments when he felt awkward around the boy; a representative of an adult world that had screwed everything up.

Jeb had given his guard the slip in the confusion of Raisha’s shooting and hidden beneath the execution platform, concealed from view by the Union Jack skirt draped around its edge. ‘I thought I was seeing things when I spied you running across the grass with that rifle in your hand and then I realised you’d been there all along, ready to take out those nutters for me. That was a bit of a fucking suicide mission, wasn’t it?’

Magnus had not disabused him, but he caught Jeb watching him once or twice during the drive and wondered if he suspected the truth.

The horizon was coming into focus. It was definitely land. Magnus tried to suppress an electric leap of excitement. He had come too far to get shipwrecked on treacherous rocks. He traced a finger along the route to South Ronaldsay marked on the chart.

Belle had persuaded them to take a detour somewhere near York, following a series of colourful banners that led to what looked to Magnus like a folk festival. The boy had already elected to sit squashed next to him in the front seat. He had edged closer to Magnus at the sight of the small cluster of tents and camper vans, worried by the prospect of strangers.

‘It’s all right, Shug.’ Magnus was driving but he had given the boy’s small hand a quick squeeze. ‘They’re hippies. They smoke the pipe of peace.’

Paul said, ‘I bet that’s not all they smoke.’

Jeb was sitting on the other side of the boy. Magnus glanced at him, wondering if he was remembering his time among the environmental activists whom he had betrayed, but the big man kept his eyes on the road.

Belle said, ‘Why did you call him Shug?’

‘It’s short for Shuggie.’

‘Ah, that makes perfect sense – not.’

Belle took a comb from her bag and started to pull it through her hair. She had been subdued since their escape from Tanqueray House, but now Magnus sensed nervous excitement crackling from her, like electricity before a thunderstorm.

‘It’s another name for Hugh.’ He ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘I had a best friend called Hugh. This wee lad reminds me of him and as we’ve got to call him something, I thought Shug might do the trick.’ He looked at the boy. ‘What do you think?’

The child’s face remained impassive, but he leaned his head against Magnus.

Magnus smiled. ‘Aye, I think he likes it.’

Belle had found a mirror and lipstick in her bag. She looked at her face and dabbed her lips red. ‘You’re becoming more Scottish.’

‘Am I?’

‘Yes, the further north we go, the stronger your accent gets. You’ll be speaking Gaelic soon.’

Magnus said, ‘The only Gaelic I know is
uisge beatha
.’ He guided the van to a halt. People from the camp were walking over to greet them. Belle opened the door and leapt to the ground, not bothering to ask for an English translation, her face split by a smile.

Magnus whispered, ‘It means water of life.’

The five of them camped there overnight. Jeb had insisted that now was the time for his cast to come off and, after scouring the small site, Magnus had managed to borrow a craft saw from a man who had been a carpenter before the sweats. Jeb’s leg was pale and had lost muscle. It seemed at first that they had removed the plaster too soon, but then the carpenter turned up with a makeshift crutch he had fashioned and Jeb hobbled a circuit of the camp.

Magnus was packing their gear back into the van the next morning when Belle announced that she had decided to stay. He had not spotted any other children at the camp and some of its inhabitants had a hungry look that made him uneasy. ‘I can see why you want to be with folk your own age,’ he said, making an effort to keep his voice reasonable. ‘But I’m not sure this is the best place for the wee lad.’

Belle laughed when she realised his assumption. ‘I can’t look after a child.’ She was smiling, but there was an edge of panic in her voice. ‘You know me, Magnus, I’m far too selfish. Anyway, it’s you that he’s fallen in love with.’ It was a typical hyperbole, designed to get her what she wanted, but Magnus felt a leap of gratitude. Belle said, ‘Raisha would want you to look after him.’ Magnus hoped that she was right.

Belle was a grown woman, in charge of her own life, but Magnus was relieved when Paul said he was staying too, though the campers were mostly younger than him and he and Belle not an item.