The Calling of the Grave (34 page)

    
If
it does it'll all be over before you can do anything about it.
Miller was
right: no matter how dangerous Monk might be, he wasn't bullet-proof.

    Even
so, instead of getting undressed I lay on the bed fully clothed.
Christ,
what a day.
I stared at the darkened ceiling, thinking about Monk, about
Simms and Wainwright. And about Sophie and Terry. As my eyelids grew heavy it
seemed there was a connection there I could almost see, a tenuous link that
hovered frustratingly out of sight. . .

    Someone
was shaking me. I woke in a panic to find Miller standing by the bed with a
torch in his hand. If he thought it was odd to see me lying there fully dressed
he gave no sign.

    'Get
up, we need to go.'

    The
last rags of sleep fell away. Blinking against the brightness, I swung my legs
off the bed.

    'What's
happened?'

    There
was nothing affable about Miller now. His face was grim as he headed back
towards the landing.

    'Monk's
coming.'

    I
hurried after him. The torch beam made the landing and stairs unfamiliar in the
darkness.

    'What
do you mean?'

    'He's
on his way.' Miller didn't slow. 'Grab your coat but don't turn on any lights.
We're leaving in two minutes.'

    As he
went to the window at the end of the landing the door to Sophie's room opened
and Cross emerged. 'She's getting dressed,' she told him. Miller gave a nod,
easing back the curtain to peer out of the window as she went downstairs.

    I was
struggling to take it all in. 'How do you know he's coming?'

    He
spoke without turning, eyes scanning the fog-thick darkness. 'He called again.'

    'I
didn't hear the phone.'

    'We
unplugged the upstairs extension so if he rang we could answer it ourselves.'
Miller let the curtain drop. 'We're trying to get a location but it'll take
time. So we're getting you both out.'

    'Just
because he phoned again?'

    'No,
because he thought Steph was Sophie. He told her he was in Padbury and said he
was on his way.'

    'Why
would he warn her?'

    'No
idea. Could be a bluff but we aren't going to stick around to find out.' He
handed me the torch. 'Go and get Sophie. Thirty seconds and we're out of here
whether she's dressed or not.'

    My
mind still felt sluggish.
Come on, wake up!
I hurried into the bedroom,
expecting to find Sophie dressed and ready. But in the light of the torch I
found her sitting on the edge of the bed, the duvet draped loosely around her
as she held her head in her hands.

    'Come
on, Sophie, we've got to go.'

    'I
don't want to.' Her voice was sleepy and muffled. 'I don't feel so good.'

    I
began searching round for her clothes. 'You can rest later. Monk could be here
any second.'

    She
shielded her eyes from the torch. 'God, how much wine did I have?'

    'Sophie,
we need to leave.' I handed her the clothes I'd snatched up. 'I know you don't
want to but we don't have any choice.'

    I
half expected her to refuse, that we would get into the safe house argument again.
But she meekly took her clothes and stood up, letting the duvet fall. She was
wearing a T-shirt but I looked away as she began to get dressed.

    Cross
appeared in the doorway. 'Ready?'

    'Nearly.'

    She
waited for us as Sophie finished pulling on her clothes. Miller was waiting by
the front door when we went downstairs, the hallway still in darkness. I gave
him back the torch.

    'We're
just going to walk out to our car, nice and quiet,' he said as I pulled on my
boots and fastened my coat, then helped Sophie fumble into hers. 'I'll go
first, then you two. Nice and fast but don't run. Steph'll be right behind you.
Get in the back of the car and lock the doors. OK?'

    Sophie
gave an uncertain nod, leaning against me. Miller tried to slide back the bolts
quietly, but they still sounded like gunshots in the quiet. Drawing his gun, he
opened the door in one smooth movement.

    Cold,
damp air rolled into the hallway. Outside it was pitch black. The beam from
Miller's torch bounced back from the thick fog that had closed in around the
house. I felt Sophie's hand tighten on mine.

    'Stay
close,' Miller said, and started down the path.

    Mist
blanketed everything. Even Miller was just a dark shape, silhouetted against
the glow from the torch as he led us towards the gate. The fog seemed to soak
up noise as well as light. Only the deadened scuff of our footsteps told me we
were still on the path. When I glanced back at Sophie I could barely make out
her face, even though she was right behind me.

    The
gate creaked as Miller held it open, and then we were on the lane. The hazy
outline of their car took shape in front of us, its lights flashing with an
electronic squawk as he unlocked it.

    'OK,
get in.'

    The
car's interior was cold as I slid into the back seat beside Sophie. Cross shut
the door behind me and climbed into the front as Miller started the engine.
There was a
thunk
as the locks engaged and then we were accelerating
away, the headlights showing a wall of grey fog.

    No
one spoke. Cross murmured briefly into her radio, then fell silent again.
Miller sat forward in his seat, trying to make out the road. Padbury lay behind
us, but it was impossible to get any sense of where we were. It was like
driving on the sea bed. The fog swirled like plankton in the headlights,
half-seen shapes emerging briefly before disappearing again.

    For
all that, Miller kept up a good speed, shoulders hunched with concentration.
After a few miles the sense of tension in the car began to ease.

    'Well,
that was fun,' Miller said. 'You OK back there?'

    'Where
are we going?' Sophie asked. She sounded exhausted.

    'We're
going to take you to a safe house for the time being. Only temporary, but we
can sort out what's happening after that tomorrow.'

    They'd
obviously had a contingency plan worked out. I waited for Sophie to object, but
she seemed past caring. In the darkness of the car I could just see her rubbing
her head.

    'Sophie?
Are you all right?' I asked.

    'I
don't—' she began, and then Miller yelled,
'Shit!'
as a figure
materialized from the fog in front of us.

    There
was a glimpse of outstretched arms and flapping coat, then Sophie was flung
against me as Miller braked and swerved. But not in time. We hit the figure
full on, but instead of the expected
thud
of impact it disintegrated in
a blizzard of fragments and cloth. The car slewed, throwing me hard against the
side window as Miller fought for control.

    He
almost made it. Fragments of glass peppered us as he punched a hole through the
windscreen, letting in a cold blast of air. The car briefly seemed to level
out, and I had time to think,
Thank God.
Then there was a crunching jolt
and everything tipped sideways. The car seemed to hang weightless, then
something slammed into me. The world became a tumbling confusion of darkness
and noise. I was flung around without any sense of up or down.

    Then
there was stillness.

    Gradually,
sounds and sensations began to reassert themselves. A faint ticking, the steady
drip-drip of rain. I could feel it against my face, along with cold air, but it
was too dark to see. I was sitting upright but at an angle. Something was
constricting my chest, making it hard to breathe. I groped at it with hands
that felt leaden and clumsy. I was coated with a fine powder: residue from the
airbags. They'd deflated now, draped out like pale tongues. But the seatbelt
still held me in place, stretched taut across me like an iron band. I fumbled
to unfasten it, shedding pebble-like pieces of broken glass, and slid down the
seat as it slithered free.

    'Sophie?'
I tried to make her out in the darkness. Relief flowed through me as she
stirred. 'Are you hurt?'

    'I
... I feel sick . . .' She sounded dazed.

    'Hang
on.'

    There
was movement in front of us as I struggled with Sophie's seatbelt. I heard
Cross groan.

    'You
two all right?' she asked.

    'I
think so.' I tugged at the catch to Sophie's seatbelt. 'What did we hit?'

    But
Cross gave a cry and began scrambling over to Miller. 'Nick?
Nick?'

    He was
slumped in his seat, not moving. I hurriedly freed Sophie's seatbelt. 'Can you
get out now?'

    'I —
I think so . . .'

    The
door on my side was jammed. The hinges screeched in protest as I kicked it
open. My legs almost gave way when I climbed out of the car. I leaned on to it
for support, light-headed and aching all over. The car had come to rest at the
bottom of a shallow embankment. It was upright but canted on one side, the
bodywork scraped and mangled. One headlight was smashed and the other gave only
a sickly glow, shining sadly into the ground like a blinded eye. The fog was
tainted with the smell of petrol, but there was no sign of fire.

    Crystalline
pieces of shattered glass crunched underfoot as I limped around to the driver's
side, slipping on the torn earth and grass. The car was more badly damaged
here. The roof had crumpled, buckling the door shut. I tried forcing it open
but it was useless: it would have to be cut away before anyone could get to
Miller.

    Cross
was still inside the car next to him, talking urgently on the radio. She'd
propped a torch on what was left of the dashboard, and I could see Miller
hanging limply in his seat, held in place by the belt. Blood smeared his face
and matted his hair, black and shiny in the torchlight.

    I
reached through the jagged hole where the window had been and felt for the
carotid artery in his neck. There was a pulse but it was weak.

    'Is
he all right?'

    Sophie
had climbed out of the car and was gingerly making her way towards me.

    'We
need to call the paramedics,' I said. Even if we could have got him out of the
car, moving him ourselves could do more harm than good. 'How about you?'

    I
could feel her shivering as I put my arm round her. She leaned against me. 'Bit
dizzy, and my head's splitting.'

    I
would have asked more, but at that moment the car creaked as Cross forced her
way out.

    'Help's
on its way,' she said, facing us across the car roof. She'd regained some of
her calm. There was blood on her face, either her own or Miller's. 'They're
going to try to send an air ambulance but I don't think it'll be able to get to
us in this.'

    Neither
did I. The fog was as thick as ever, and even if there was somewhere for a
helicopter to land I doubted it would attempt it.

    'What
happened?' Sophie asked. She still sounded dazed. 'God, did we hit someone?'

    In
the turmoil of the crash I'd forgotten about that. 'I'll go and look.'

    'No.'
Cross was firm. 'No one's wandering off. We'll wait for help to arrive.'

    I saw
with surprise that she'd taken her gun from its holster. But I was already
replaying the snatched images of the figure caught in the headlights, recalling
how it had come apart when we hit it. Not like there'd been flesh and bone
inside the coat, more like . . . branches.

    A
scarecrow.

    'She's
right,' I said. 'We should stay here.'

    'We
can't just leave them there!' Sophie protested.

    Cross
was staring into the darkness, but now she turned to face Sophie across the
car. 'Yes, we can. If you want to do something, there's a blanket—' she began,
and then a shadow charged at her out of the fog.

    Miller
hadn't lied about how fast she was. The torch beam spiralled