Holy Island Trilogy 03 - The Final Countdown (12 page)

Out on a fucking limb as usual.

Snatching his passport back, he received a suspicious look from the woman customs officer, plus a sniff, accompanied by a glare from the male officer next to her, when she used her elbow to nudge him as she whispered something.

Danny shrugged and pulled a couldn’t-care-less face. He could still smell the wet dog himself, and so had quite a few people on the plane, judging by the looks they had thrown his way.

 ‘So really bothered like…Not!’ he muttered, scowling every which way as he followed the man through the airport doors.

Should I make a run for it? Danny was thinking now as they headed over towards the car park. He looked around him. Should be easy. The silent freak doesn’t look all that fit, and I’ll sharp get lost amongst all these people. Bet there’s been a thousand come through here today, anyone of them could belong to the fucking families.

A breeze blew up from nowhere, and he got a strong whiff of his clothes.

Yeah, but where would I run to?

‘Cos for a fucking fact, all they would need was one sniffer dog with half a fucking nose.

What the hell do I know about London? Only been here the once, for fuck's sake.

And it rained the whole friggin' time!

‘Get in,’ the man said suddenly. They had weaved their way through at least a hundred cars, Danny banging his elbows on the wing mirrors of most of them, before they finally reached a dirty white Mini.

‘You could’ve parked it a bit closer,’ Danny grumbled, only to be ignored. ‘And gave it a wash.’ Receiving a glowering look, Danny shrugged.

‘Where we going, like?’

This got an answer of sorts. ‘To see Shelly.’

‘Wow, was that a sentence you just uttered?’ Danny exaggeratedly wiped his brow. ‘Please, hold me up.’

Ignoring Danny’s attempts to draw him into conversation, the man went to put his hand on Danny’s head. Danny brushed it off and got into the car himself, thinking, Copper! Only a copper would do that. ‘Cos that’s what they’re fucking well trained to do when putting people they’ve arrested into cars. Seen it on the telly loads of times.

Not sure if the thought that the quiet man might be a copper pleased him or not. Plenty bent coppers around, seen that on the telly an’ all. And heard about it from a mate or two.

Danny fastened the seat belt, and watched as the man walked around the car and got in.

He shot a smile at Danny, which really freaked him out, and set him off babbling. ‘Look, why don’t you just tell me where Shelly is, eh, and I’ll go find her myself. It’ll be much easier for you instead of trailing around in all this traffic… Just give me the address, mate, no need to bother yourself any longer.’

‘No.’

‘Why not? You can just jog off home. Put your feet up, ‘cos you look really tired. OK, so just tell me where she is and point me in the right direction.’ Nodding his head, Danny loosened the seatbelt.

‘Fasten it,’ the man growled at him.

‘Screw you.’

Another growl, accompanied by a glare. ‘OK, OK.’ Danny hastily refastened the belt. ‘OK, OK, keep your hair on. Just an idea, that’s all, mate. No need to get all het up about it. For fuck's sake.’

Feeling totally helpless, he sighed and stared out of the car window as they left the car park and pulled into the traffic, wondering if he dare jump out of the car if they came to a stop somewhere.

A moment later, that plan was cast aside as he heard the central locking system click on.

He was a prisoner again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Tony Driver stood outside the door of the small pet shop in one of Soho’s narrow back streets, idly watching the crowds passing by. He remembered reading somewhere that Soho had once been a hunting ground, and legend had it that it got its name from hunters crying out, ‘So ho!’ as they rode through the fields after their prey. Damn hard to imagine this busy place as once being rolling green fields.

Back then it had actually been built up as a destination for the rich, but they soon disappeared when Soho was hit by a cholera outbreak in 1854. He guessed that most of the families would have had a stake in the land, as they still owned most of the property, pubs, and brothels around here. They probably started the cholera outbreak on purpose. And there had always, since biblical times, been a hell of a lot of profit in prostitution.

He sighed. Times change, he thought, but the families have always been constant. But not any more. And what better place to hide, than out in the open!

He looked in the window. Mike would love this shop, full of fluffy puppies and kittens, plus some quite exotic animals. A small striped snake in the window suddenly raised its head and hissed at him, and Tony involuntarily stepped back, even though there was a glass window between them.

He smiled at his reflection in the window and straightened his blue tie, his thoughts skipping from the snake back to Mike Yorke. Mike had bought this tie for his birthday last year.

Why the fuck didn’t you just lie low, Mike?

He glanced at his gold watch, a very expensive present from one of the Egyptians. Bribery indeed, but something he would be a fool to decline. If any of them thought he had any morals at all, it would be his death warrant.

Moving towards the door of the shop, he entered and nodded his head at grey-haired bespectacled Muriel behind the counter, who was much more than the sign on the shop window would have you believe. She smiled at him as he opened a metal door on the right-hand side of the counter.

The room he entered was windowless, and obviously an office of some sort. A large square conference table stood in the middle of the floor, with a coffee urn and half a dozen mugs. On the side facing him sat three men. Whatever they had been discussing before he came in, silence reigned now.

Tony took his place at the table, facing them, and was greeted by smiles and hellos from the three men.

Dr Raymond Vickers, a small black man with greying hair, and small round gold-rimmed spectacles, was a specialist in childhood disease. He asked, in a South African accent, ‘So, just about everything in place then?’ He smiled, one of pleased relief. There was an air of excitement about him as if something he’d wanted for a long time was about to happen.

Tony nodded, as the other two men leaned closer over the table. ‘I think this is the real start of it. We have a lot of people in place now. Soon, hopefully in the next few years, none but a very few of the families will remain.’

All three sat back with satisfied smiles on their faces.

‘At last,’ Derek Quinn, the American vice president said. ‘It’s been a long time coming.’ He fiddled with the right side of his brown moustache, as he looked at the other two.

‘And the transmission, it will be smooth?’ asked Lars Abendroth, a German priest, a small, very portly man with only one arm, who had always refused to wear a prosthetic limb.

Unable to completely share their optimism, Tony looked at all three of them in turn. These were the headmen, along with a very courageous woman who had carried the fight their ancestors had started into this century. Only a fool would think that the families didn’t know about them. They knew all right, but they didn’t know just how organised the rebellion was. Finally, when the priest was starting to show some agitation, he said, ‘As smooth as it can possibly be. Of course, there will always be rumours, waves, speculations, but the truth of what will happen, and what has happened in the past, will be kept hidden, hopefully forever.’

'And the keeper of the book? She is well?’

Tony smiled. ‘Very well.’

The vice president said, ‘Well, this will be our last meeting, this side of’ - he shrugged - ‘the surprise.’

The others nodded, as Tony was thinking, 'Sad that they are so naive. A thousand things can go wrong. So easily.'

NORTHUMBERLAND

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

In less time than it takes to draw breath, Kristina reached the back gate. Quickly pulling the bolt out, she was halfway through before it was even properly open. The sea was in front of her, and to the right, about a half a mile away, was the fisherman’s cottage. A dozen or so upended boats surrounded the blue-washed cottage. The ground was uneven, but Kristina was pretty fit and guessed she could run the distance in a few minutes. That was before, she was suddenly grabbed by the throat.

‘Going somewhere?’ Rafferty asked, her grip tightening as she pinned Kristina against the wall.

Kristina quickly reacted by bashing her on the side of her head with her bag and, at the same time, jumping on Rafferty’s toes.

The woman grinned at her, but Kristina, yelling like a banshee, then grabbed a handful of Rafferty’s hair, yanking her head to the side. Rafferty screamed and let go of Kristina’s throat, but lashed out at her face with her nails, drawing blood from two deep scratches. Kristina pushed her hard enough for Rafferty to fall over, then without hesitation took off in the direction of the cottage.

By the time Rafferty scrambled to her feet, Kristina was out of sight. Guessing the direction she’d headed, Rafferty ran in a beeline for the blue-washed cottage.

It was only a few minutes before she spotted Kristina. The sight of her spurred Rafferty on, and she began swiftly, step by step, to close in on her. ‘Got you now, you bitch,’ she muttered, as each second brought her closer to her prey.

For a brief moment, Kristina disappeared as she ran down a small dip in the ground. Then she appeared at the top, looking behind her at Rafferty, who was now close enough to see the fear in her eyes, and grinned at her.

A moment later, Rafferty was pushed from behind, and she went spinning down the bank.

LONDON

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Sitting in the chair by the fireplace, staring out of the window, but seeing nothing of the sunshine, nor the buses, cars and people passing by, Smiler flicked the ash off his cigarette, completely missing the ash tray. The ash landed on Tiny’s back who, feeling nothing through his thick coat of hair, slumbered on at Smiler’s feet.

Smiler was trying as hard as he could to see Mike, but it was so hopeless. He knew, without knowing how, that somehow he was being blocked by someone or something. Frustratingly, where Mike should be in his mind, there were nothing but numbers again. And once more he had no idea what they meant. All he could think that it meant was a silent count down to nowhere.

He looked down and saw not one but three or four strands of ash on the dog's back. ‘Shit…sorry, mate.’ Smiler rubbed the ash off Tiny’s back.

All-forgiving, as was his dog way, Tiny rose to his full height and, standing on his back legs, placed his front paws on Smiler’s chest, giving him a huge slavery kiss.

Grimacing, Smiler wiped his face then put his arms around the big dog and hugged him. A moment later, he looked into the dog's deep brown eyes and said, ‘Jesus, mate. Don’t want to hurt your feelings, like, but your breath so stinks.’

Tiny wagged his tail.

‘Come on, mate, we’ve got plenty of time. We’ll head down to the pet shop, get something to clean your teeth, scruffy mutt.’

Still wagging his tail, Tiny got down and stood still while Smiler snapped his lead on.

‘And where do you think you two are off to?’ Rita asked, coming up the hallway behind them. ‘Don’t forget, we’re off in an hour or so.’ Rita looked at her watch. ‘The person we’re waiting for should be here shortly, that’s if the traffic’s been OK.’

‘We won't be long,' Smiler said, opening the door. ‘Just off to the pet shop. Give you time to put your slap on.’

Rita tossed her head, and went back upstairs.

Near the end of the long street of terraced houses, Smiler frowned. Was it suddenly getting darker? He looked up at the sky with a puzzled look on his face.

No rain clouds around.

A few more steps, and Tiny whined low in his throat. Smiler’s uneasiness increased. ‘What’s the matter, boy?’

Tiny whined again, and sat down. A moment later, he stood and turned in the direction of home. It was then that Smiler heard a voice he knew. 

‘You owe me.’

Whispered in a menacing tone in his ear, as if the person was standing next to him.

‘No.’ Smiler said out loud, looking quickly around, expecting to see Snakes at any minute.

‘What… Where?’ Smiler muttered, when there was no one in sight.

Tiny whined even louder, and started pulling on his lead. Pulling Smiler towards home and safety.

But Smiler was rooted to the spot in fear. Tiny started to bark. He kept looking at Smiler, then turning to look homewards. Finally he moved quickly up to Smiler and started nudging him, each nudge punctuated with a swift bark.

But it wasn’t until a car pulled up alongside them that Smiler blinked and stared at the driver.

What the fuck’s he doing? Danny thought. Could he have found a rougher looking fucker than him to ask directions from?

But instead of asking directions from the youth with the smile carved on his face, the driver jumped out of the car and bundled the youth into the front seat. Grabbing the dogs lead, he ushered him into the back next to Danny,

‘What the fuck?’ Danny yelled, pushing at the dog who, his tail wagging like crazy, seemed intent on swallowing him whole, out of the way.

‘What the fucking hell?’ Smiler said scowling at Danny.

‘Shut up both of you,’ the driver said, as he took off along the street, stopping outside of the house Smiler had just left a few minutes ago.

Danny was still trying to brush off Tiny’s friendly intentions when the driver opened the door to let them out.

‘Must be more good in you than I thought,’ the driver said to Danny, who blinked his puzzlement at the longest speech he’d heard from the man in all of their travels.

The man nodded his head towards Tiny. ‘The dog! He knows.’

Danny looked down at Tiny. He raised his hand, unsure whether to pat the huge beast or not, the risk of losing his hand uppermost in his mind, even though the dog seemed friendly enough. Actually over-friendly, Danny thought, scowling at Tiny. As if I don’t stink of friggin' dog enough. Then the man said, ‘Quickly, inside.’