Lair (17 page)

"It's all right," Lehmann said, chuckling. "You're right: it is a godawful job. But thank God some of us are inclined to do it. Now I've got to get back next door and synchronize the gas pumping. We want all the machines to be used at the same time so there's nowhere for the vermin to run to."

Lehmann smiled at the tutor. "Don't worry about Luke, Jenny. This'll be good for him. It'll help purge some of the hate that's been building up inside him for all these years. You can be sure of one thing though, he won't be happy until every last one of them is dead."

They pumped the cyanide into the underground tunnels and prayed. There was no reason why the deadly fumes should not eliminate the vermin completely, for they were trapped, sealed in their own tomb; yet every man felt uneasy, as though they were dealing with more than just animals, but something unknown, something alien to their world. They listened to the sounds from below through earphones, the microphones sunk deep into the earth, penetrating the dark chambers, and heard the cries of the dying creatures, their panic as they fought to free themselves, the frantic scraping against solid walls, their terrified squeals as they scrambled over each others' backs to get clear of the destructive, seeping gas.

Some, just a few, managed to scrabble their way through an undetected opening, close to where Fender's group had been attacked earlier, but the soldiers were waiting for them. The first through were burnt to black ash by the flamethrowers, and those immediately behind had their lungs seared with the heat. Their corpses blocked the narrow passageway as effectively as the cement, for although their companions tried to gnaw their way through the bodies, the creeping fumes stole over them and they quivered in final, painful death-throes.

The men above the ground could not see the carnage that was taking place below, but they could feel the death in the air, they could envisage the desperate struggle inside the black catacombs. Even the forest itself seemed to maintain a respectful silence.

On the faces of the men who listened into the receivers was a mixture of disgust and pity. The cries in their ears seemed to belong to hundreds upon hundreds of children, screaming their panic, wailing as they died. It did not take long for the gas to penetrate every dark hole of the sewer network and soon the radio men at their different points began removing the headphones, feeling no gloating victory, just an ebbing of their spirit. They looked up at the silent men around them and nodded. The rats were dead.

SIXTEEN

"Luke, you look done in. Come and join us in the Warden's office, we'd like to discuss something with you."

Fender wearily tossed the helmet into the corner of the reception area and stared into Stephen Howard's smiling face.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to get back to my hotel and take a long, hot bath. Can't we meet later?"

"Afraid not. I promise you, it won't take long." The research director turned on his heels, still smiling pleasantly, and strode from the reception area, taking the corridor leading to Alex Milton's office. Fender followed, his limbs stiff from the bruising he'd received earlier that day.

The only people in the small room were Mike Lehmann and Antony Thornton. The research director immediately walked over to a cabinet on one side of the office on which stood an assortment of drinks.

The Warden sent these over from his private stock," Howard explained, his smile now beginning to irritate Fender. "Still Scotch, no ice, no water?"

Fender nodded and sank into a straight-backed chair beneath the room's only window. He pulled off the thick gloves and dropped them on the floor, flexing his fingers and examining the red marks on them. Howard handed him the Scotch, his expression one of sympathy.

"I'm sure you must be rather sore in places after that dreadful attack today. Thank God we had these suits reinforced after the Outbreak."

Fender took a long swallow of his drink, momentarily closing his eyes at the liquid warmth. "As I said earlier, they'll need to be made even tougher. They didn't stand up well enough."

"Of course. Now the danger is over, well have time to improve them."

Thornton, seated at the Warden's desk, raised his own glass. "I think congratulations are in order, Stephen. Once again your company has provided an invaluable service to the country. God knows where we'd have been without your expertise."

"It's not all over yet," said Mike Lehmann staring down into his glass.

There may still be others running free on the outside. Those that attacked Luke, for instance."

"I quite agree," said Howard, his smile gone. He sat in a seat facing Thornton and reached for his own drink that had been perched near the edge of the desk. We have to be pessimistic, Antony. You may think us over-cautious, but we can take no chances whatsoever. It is possible the rats that attacked Luke and his group returned to their companions in the sewers after all, the one unblocked exit that was discovered when the gassing started was quite near the spot where the attack took place. But we cannot assume that is the case: the forest has to be searched thoroughly before we can give the all-clear."

"Yes, yes, of course. But the point is, the main force has been dealt with," said Thornton. The rest is surely a "mopping-up" exercise."

We hope so, Antony," said Howard, 'we certainly hope so. However, it will be weeks before we can be absolutely sure. First, we have ..."

"I think it's time we put Luke fully in the picture." Fender's eyes shot towards Mike Lehmann who had just spoken. There was silence in the room for a few moments and the rat catcher gaze shifted to Stephen Howard, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Yes," the research director said, 'it is time." He looked first at the private secretary, then at Fender. "I'm sorry I've never spoken of this to you before, Luke, but it was decided at the time that time being immediately after the London Outbreak

that it should be a matter of secrecy. The less who knew of it, the better."

Fender leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the Scotch held in both hands. His eyes never left Howard's.

"As you know, we discovered the source of the mutant Black rat when London had been cleared of people and the vermin had been successfully gassed. Their original breeding-ground had been in an old disused lock-keeper's house on a canal near the docks in East London. You know how the zoologist Schiller had smuggled a mutant rat into the country from the radiation-affected islands around New Guinea. He mated his mutant with the normal Black rat the area in which he lived, of course, was infested with them. The result

the terrifying result was the giant Black rat, a new strain, stronger, more cunning than any other rodent. They dominated the indigenous Black rat and utilized their strength of numbers."

Lehmann had become impatient. We thought we had killed them all off,"

he said, 'but we hadn't. We didn't discover their nest, you see. We didn't know about the canal-house, the lair of the original mutant."

"It was discovered by a man named Harris, a teacher who knew the area well, and who was helping us at the time." Howard placed his glass back on the desk and swung round to face Fender. "In the cellar of the house, he came upon a monster. From the description he gave, you could hardly call it an animal, let alone a rodent."

Wait a minute," Fender said evenly. Why haven't you told me about this before? Do any of the Ratkill investigators know?"

This time Thornton interrupted. Tour company has been acting under strict government instructions, Mr. Fender. We saw no reason to panic the public any more than it had been. The slightest leak ..." He spread his hands, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"So what happened to this ... monster?" Fender asked impatiently.

Howard exhaled a short, dissatisfied breath. "I'm afraid Harris destroyed it. Chopped it to pieces with an axe."

Fender almost grinned. To Howard and his colleagues, it must have seemed like the vandalization of a valuable work of art.

Lehmann sensed the rat catcher inner amusement. We could have learned a lot from the animal's genetic structure, Luke," he said seriously.

"But you must have had thousands of corpses to study."

"Not like this one."

We know what the creature looked like," said Howard, 'from the description Harris gave us. Also there were many drawings of it in the zoologist's study. The body itself was too mutilated to piece together; it was almost as if it had literally exploded."

"Exploded?" Fender sat straight in his chair.

Yes. The body, you see, was not like that of the mutant rats. It was almost hairless, bloated, pinkish in colour. The skin was so taut the veins could be seen through it. It was like a huge, fat slug, crippled by its own obesity. And the most ghastly thing of all..." He paused, made nervous by his own description. "It had two heads."

Fender stared at him in disbelief.

"It's true, Luke," Lehmann said quietly. "I've seen the drawings myself. And what was left of the animal. According to Harris, it was blind and too heavy to move itself; totally defenceless. It really was a pity he hacked it to bits."

"I don't blame him," said Fender. "I'd have done the same."

Lehmann came straight back at him. "No you wouldn't have. You know the value of such a freak animal. We could have studied it, discovered what had caused the mutation

"Bred your own mutant..."

"Yes, even that. That way we might have stood a chance of controlling them in the future. If we knew more about them..."

Howard held up a hand. "All right, Mike. I think Luke takes your point." He stood, then leaned back against the desk, looking down at the rat catcher We need to know if that particular strain has come through again. After a generation, it's quite possible."

"You mean there might be two kinds of mutant rat."

Howard nodded. "Just that. If there are, we still consider it best that it be kept secret. The giant Black rat on its own is terrifying enough."

A suspicion began to creep into Fender's mind. "So?" he asked warily.

"We've taken you into our confidence, Mr. Fender, because you have been involved in this particular operation from the start," said Thornton. "Indeed, your contribution has been remarkable."

"And, as one of the few people who know of the original mutant's existence, there is something we would like you to do," said Howard.

Fender's eyes widened and he felt his back stiffen as he listened.

He drove with Jenny to his hotel where they ate a dismal meal, mostly in silence. Fender was too fatigued and his body too sore to make light conversation. And his thoughts dwelt too much on the task he was to perform in two or three days' time.

Jenny sensed his mood and she, too, found it difficult to talk of trivial things. She drank her wine, then ran a finger around the rim of the glass.

"Luke," she said, breaking the silence between them. "I don't want to go back to the Centre tonight."

He looked at her in surprise. It's perfectly safe there, Jenny. The whole area's floodlit, it's surrounded by troops. There's no possible danger."

"It's not that. I am afraid, yes, but I know it's safe. I haven't slept too well the last couple of nights, knowing the forest has been infested. It'll never be the same for me again."

"It's over now, Jenny. They're gone."

"Are they? Can we be sure?"

We will be in a couple of weeks' time. That's all it will take to search the area. Then you can go back to your work without any fears."

"I don't think so. The forest used to be a wonderfully pure place to me, somewhere I escaped to; now it's different. It's tainted."

He sighed. "I'm sorry it's been spoiled for you."

She took her eyes away from the glass and looked directly at Fender. "I want to stay with you tonight, Luke," she said.

A strange sensation ran through him: a thrill, but not of the triumphant kind. He realized he was deeply touched.

"Jenny, I..." he began to say.

"Please, Luke."

He reached for her hand. "Jenny, you don't have to say please to me. I should be hopping up and down with lecherous glee, but..."

'... but you're not. I know that, Luke. I know your feelings towards me." Her eyes went back to the glass again. "At least, I think I do,"

she added.

He gripped her hand tightly and smiled. "My feelings are confused just at this moment, Jenny. There's so much going on and I have to admit my nerves are a little frazzled. But one thing's for sure: there's no way I'll let you leave me tonight."

Her eyes lifted and she smiled back at him. His depression evaporated and he felt he could sink into that smile. Her hand trembled in his, just slightly, and he knew she, too, experienced the same confusion of emotions.

"Vie Whittaker, Jenny?" he forced himself to ask.

Her face became serious, her eyes almost earnest. There's been nothing between us, please believe me. Some understanding, some mutual sympathy, but nothing beyond that. If Vie felt there was more, then it was in his own mind."

"And us? Is it just an understanding?"

"No, it's not just that. We're both aware there's more to it. Just how much is something we have to find out."

"Okay," he said. "Let's not try to analyse it. Let's just see what happens."

Now it was her turn to grip his hand tightly. "One thing, Luke," she said. "No games. I'm not playing games."

"Jenny," he replied, and her name felt good to say. "I couldn't be more serious."

They left the dining-room and Fender felt his weariness begin to disappear. They climbed the stairs and he let her into his room, thankful that, at Ratkill's expense, he always booked himself a double room when on field trips. Jenny placed her shoulder-bag on the floor and stood in the centre of the room waiting for him to close the door and switch on the light. Then she was in his arms, looking up at him, examining his face as though for the first time. His lips reached down for hers, but the movement was slow, almost tentative, both of them giving the moment its full meaning. When their lips joined, the kiss was soft, moist. Then it became firm and they felt themselves swimming into each other, seeking but becoming lost, plunging until their probing was done and they had found each other. All in a simple kiss, and Fender was almost afraid of it. Never had he felt so vulnerable.

He was suddenly aware of the crushing tightness with which he held her and the pain in his bruised back told him her grip was just as tight.

She felt the sudden flinching of his muscles and realized she was hurting him.

"I'm sorry, Luke," she said, relaxing her hold.

But he was smiling at her and she wasn't surprised to see the mistiness in his eyes, for she looked at him through her own blurred vision. She rested her head against his chest, conscious of his heartbeat, feeling small in his arms. He kissed her hair and ran a hand beneath it, touching her neck, caressing the skin behind her ears. Her arms encircled his waist and this time he cried out as she squeezed him.

"Oh, Luke, Luke, I'm so sorry."

He laughed and held her away from him. "Me too, Jenny. It looks like I'm going to be a disappointment to you."

We'll see," she said, smiling wickedly. "Let's try and do something about your wounds first, shall we?" She reached down into her bag.

Take off your jacket and shirt and let's have a look at you. I brought some ointment from the medical supplies that should do your bruises some good."

Fender winced as he shed his jacket, slowing the operation down to cause the least movement in his sore limbs. She watched him struggle, concern on her face.

"Here, let me help you." She eased the jacket from his shoulders and laid it over one of the room's two armchairs. Then she began to unbutton his shirt.

"Oh God, Luke. They really did get at you."

His shoulders and back were covered in small, red weals where the rats'

teeth had sunk into the material of the protective clothing and pinched his skin together. Still in evidence, but to a lesser degree, were the long undefined scratch marks where the creatures' claws had raked him.

Much of the skin around his shoulders and upper arms was turning a sickly purplish yellow and there were clear indents made by sharp teeth on either side of his wrist.

"Why didn't you say it was this bad?" Jenny said. "You must have been in agony."

"I didn't realize myself. It's only now it's really beginning to hurt."

"I'm going to run a bath for you. That should stop some of the bruising." She made for the bathroom. "Get out of the rest of your things. I'll rub the ointment in after you've bathed."