Ash (62 page)

They reached the fifth-floor landing and they took a few moments to rest with their backs to the curved stone wall. Still catching his breath, Ash took Delphine by her upper arms. ‘Time to split up,’ he said. ‘Make sure Lewis is all right. I’ll come and get you both after I’ve had a few words with Edgar Shawcroft-Draker.’

She was confused and her dark eyes looked to one side in the way he found so endearing. ‘I’ve told you before, make sure you call him
Lord
Edgar,’ she admonished.

Her words of warning caused him to smile. ‘I’m not very good with titles.’

He gave her a little push towards the next flight of stairs, but for a moment she resisted.

‘What if he doesn’t agree to our leaving? What if he wants to keep us here?’

‘Then I’ll have to persuade him.’ This time his smile had no warmth.

‘David, you have to be careful,’ she pleaded. ‘These aren’t men from the Rotary Club.’

‘I know. I’m only too aware. But I sense something in this man,
Lord
Edgar Shawcroft-Draker. I see a lot of regret in his eyes.’

‘You felt that from just a brief glimpse?’

‘Yes. Do you think I’m right?’

‘I’ve had some time to study him. He talks to no one except Sir Victor and Derriman, and naturally his butler, Byrone, and he won’t let me get near to him or speak to him alone. He’s a sick man, David. His illness seems worse every time I see him. But that doesn’t make him weak in the mind: he’s still a strong leader.’

‘Believe me, I’m sure you’re right. But if I can convince him—’

She broke in abruptly. ‘What if you can’t?’ she asked again.

‘As I said, I’ll try to convince him. And if he still says no, then we’ll leave anyway. It’ll just be tougher. Now look, you must go . . .’

His last words were firm, brooking no more argument. Again, he guided her back to the rising stairway. ‘Keep the torch on all the time. The batteries are fully charged, so it should last a good while. Now go!’

A quick peck on the cheek, and then he sent her on her way. He watched until she’d disappeared round the bend in the spiral.

Ash felt a new freshness rising in him and wondered if the pill was working so quickly because pumped-up adrenaline was pushing the drug faster round his system. No matter: it helped, whatever it did. He began to make his way along the castle’s passages, trying to remember the route to Lord Edgar’s quarters, and soon found himself face to face with a familiar figure.

‘Mr Ash?’ Byrone said in surprise as he turned a corner and almost bumped into the parapsychologist.

‘Mr Byrone! I— uh . . .’ stammered Ash.

‘No need for the “Mr”,’ the manservant said with the easy grace born of many years’ servitude. In one hand he balanced a cloth-covered tray, the cloth entirely hiding its contents.

‘May I help you, Mr Ash? You look lost. If it’s Sir Victor you seek, then I’m afraid he is extremely busy at the moment entertaining some very important arrivals. I imagine he’ll be busy well into the night.’

You can bet on that
, Ash thought.

‘As a matter of fact, Byrone,’ said Ash, ‘I’m looking for Lord Edgar’s suite. I have some urgent business with him that can’t wait.
Mustn’t
wait.’

Byrone blinked at the investigator’s sudden challenging tone – or perhaps at his impertinence. ‘His lordship is resting at the moment, and I have instructions not to disturb him. You are perhaps aware that he is not in the best of health.’

Ash was becoming impatient. ‘I promise you,’ he said evenly, ‘what I have to say is of the utmost importance to the health of both Comraich and everyone in it. I can’t express how vital it is for us all . . . especially today’s “very important arrivals”.’ It did no harm to gild the lily.

Byrone paused and thought. Then he said, ‘I’m afraid you will have to take the matter up with Mr Derriman.’

He made as if to walk away, but Ash deliberately blocked his path. He wasn’t fooled by the butler’s appearance, for Byrone was stockily built and his nose looked as if it had taken a few knocks in its time. For all Ash knew, the manservant could have been a hired minder, there to protect his master as well as serve his needs. He might even be armed.

Whatever, he would take on the man without hesitation if the lives of Delphine and Lewis were at stake. Ash tensed his muscles in preparation.

If Byrone noticed, he gave nothing away, merely eyeing Ash closely as if making up his mind.

‘Vital, you say?’ he asked, unflustered.

‘Absolutely. It’s quite literally a matter of life and death.’

‘Ah, death.’ Byrone smiled wearily, and although Ash expected him simply to turn on his heels and walk away, he continued speaking. ‘Look, sir. I’m on my way to administer his lordship’s medication and I’ll explain the situation to him. Then he can make up his own mind. I do know he is intensely interested in your findings. But I warn you, Mr Ash, if you intend to hoodwink him with parapsychological babble, then the consequences for you will be severe.’

‘Is that a threat, Byrone?’

‘Why yes, sir. What else would it be?’ said the butler amiably.

Ash smiled inwardly.
This could turn into quite a tussle
, he thought, seeing the smartly clad retainer in a new light. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I promise nothing but truth and honesty. After that, it’s entirely up to Lord Edgar. I’m just doing my job.’

‘Very good, sir. In that case, please wait here.’

Ash sat down in a floral tapestry chair and watched as Byrone disappeared round a corner, holding the tray at shoulder height like a waiter.

And as Ash waited impatiently, he felt something run over his foot. He just caught sight of the brown rat scurrying along the skirting board, before it disappeared into the shadows from which he had so recently emerged.

Senior Nurse Krantz was suspicious.

Other duties had taken her away from the medical unit’s reception desk, so she had no way of knowing whether that creepy stunted little man, Cedric Twigg, had returned from the containment area in the sub-basement – the ‘dungeons’, as she privately referred to the place. She’d asked the nurse who’d sat in for her (a rather plain, skinny girl in her twenties who Krantz had taken to her bed only a week or two after her arrival some years ago), but had been met only with a shrug of the girl’s shoulders. The senior nurse was not about to put her own life at risk by going downstairs to see whether Twigg was still around – after all, it was a full moon that night and, though there were those who thought the connection was a myth, some of the nutcases definitely were affected by the lunar cycle. And that – along with so many extraordinary things happening in Comraich lately – was only
one
reason she would not go down there alone any more. She was well aware of how despised she was by patients and medical staff alike. And somehow she instinctively knew that danger was abroad that night, something in the heavy atmosphere of the castle. Everything felt strange, as if there were static in the air, the oppression that often preceded a thunderstorm. Yet still she was curious. Had Twigg truly obtained permission to enter the restricted section on his own? Had Sir Victor really lent the shabby little man his own key card? It didn’t seem likely to Senior Nurse Krantz.

What to do? If Twigg was still downstairs, what could he be up to? She did not trust the shifty, bald-headed man. Could he be involved in some kind of mischief? She’d never heard of him carrying out any kind of structural assessment before. Besides, she was well aware of what the Inner Court really used him for, and it was another reason to be somewhat timid around him.

Krantz decided she would find the security chief, Kevin Babbage and pass the buck on to him. Her mind made up, she quickly took to the stairs that would lead her up to the castle’s ground floor.

She stomped her way to the lobby, wondering what the tiny black orbs with their graduating charcoal haloes were. She blinked several times as if to clear black floaters in her pupils. There were dark-garbed guards racing here and there, as if none of them knew where they were going, or what was happening. Neither receptionist was behind the long counter. It appeared Placid Pat had also deserted his station.

Krantz marched to the hefty door of the control centre and rapped loudly.

‘Yes?’ The voice came from a tiny speaker on the door frame.

‘It’s Senior Nurse Krantz. I need to see Mr Babbage.’

There was a buzzing sound and the door clicked. Krantz pushed it open and stood on the stepped platform that overlooked the enormous room. Sitting before the banks of TV monitors were three men, frantically stabbing at keyboards in an attempt to make clear the identical snowy, dazzling displays that were each meant to show a different area of the castle. Elsewhere computer screens were filled with lines of scrolling gibberish, fax machines spewed blank paper and even the television news broadcasts had become nothing but shadowy double-images of voiceless newsreaders. Water coolers bubbled and a jet of steam whistled upwards from the coffee machine. Not even the phones were working.

Security Chief Kevin Babbage stood in front of a whiteboard, looking as if he would be tearing his hair out had he not been sporting a buzz-cut.

He noticed the red-haired nurse standing on the platform by the door, a wide-eyed, dismayed expression on her face as she surveyed the chaos.

‘What the hell d’you want, Krantz?’ Babbage bellowed across the room. ‘Can’t you see I’ve got enough problems?’

Nevertheless, he stepped away from the whiteboard and hurried through the desks to reach her. If there was more trouble, it seemed that he didn’t want others to overhear it.

‘What’s wrong?’ he snapped as he swung round the steps’ metal rail and came up to the platform.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Babbage,’ Krantz answered promptly, not at all intimidated by his brusque manner, ‘but I saw that man Twigg on his way down to the sub-basement some time ago, and as far as I know, he hasn’t yet returned.’

Babbage scowled. ‘And you’ve been waiting all this time for him to reappear?’

‘No, no – I’ve been busy. I’ve only just found out.’ Her own response was equally fierce. ‘I thought it strange, though, that he should have his own special key-card. He told me Sir Victor had given it to him so that he could carry out a structural assessment, but I can’t imagine that, can you?’

Babbage ran his hand across his bristling hair as he eyed the chaos below, then capitulated. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll take a look with you. You seen Derriman around?’

‘He’s probably upstairs having cocktails with the bigwigs.’

‘Yeah, that sounds about right. Come on, then, let’s see what we can find. I’m getting nowhere here anyway.’

They left the ops room and Krantz had to trot to keep up with the security chief’s pace.

In their haste, they failed to notice the small orbs now above their heads, floating like miniature black balloons near the hall’s high ceiling, gathering together and swallowing the light around them, eventually becoming one huge seething blurred shadow.

Ash’s patience was practically exhausted when he heard footsteps approaching from the direction Byrone had taken earlier.

‘Thank you for waiting, Mr Ash,’ said the manservant as he rounded the corner, now minus tray.

‘Did you know you’ve got rats running round this part of the castle?’ said Ash as he stood.

‘Alas . . .’ (
Now there’s a word you didn’t hear often these days
, thought Ash) ‘it’s a common problem in old buildings, sir. Ours find their way up from the dungeons below.’

Another man who called the sub-basement what it really was. Ash decided he liked that.

‘They rarely come this far up, though,’ the butler explained. ‘We have some very hungry cats to keep them away.’

‘Really?’ he said. ‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen one cat inside Comraich since I’ve been here.’
Though I saw plenty outside this morning
, he thought.

Byrone paused a second. ‘Now you mention it, sir, I haven’t seen the castle cats recently either. Not for a week or so.’

‘Since the wildcats found their way onto the estate?’

‘Hmn, yes, I suppose.’ The manservant took up his stride once more. ‘Anyway, Mr Ash, you’ll be pleased to learn that his lordship has agreed to see you. Kindly follow me.’

Ash followed the butler down a long, wide corridor. Byrone, at first a couple of strides ahead of Ash, slowed so that soon they were walking shoulder to shoulder. ‘I’ve given his lordship his medication, but you might find he will tire very quickly,’ the butler said in a hushed voice. ‘If he does, you’ll have to leave.’

‘I thought he had an important meeting tonight?’

‘That he has, Mr Ash, which is why he must rest before it begins.’

‘And the dinner he’s supposed to attend before that?’

‘I fear he may have to excuse himself. But we’ll see how it goes. All I ask is that you do not tire Lord Edgar more than necessary. May we agree on that?’

Ash had no wish to exhaust a dying man, but he needed to obtain his permission to let Delphine, Lewis and himself leave the compound. He felt sure they wouldn’t make it out without that permission.

‘I’ll try to keep it brief,’ he said, ‘but there are things about Comraich he will have to know.’

Byrone gave him a hard stare.

‘Only for his own good and that of his guests,’ Ash hurriedly added. He had already decided that obtaining permission to leave would be his main aim. If Shawcroft-Draker wanted to hear more, then so be it: he’d get the full story. But the parapsychologist was only too well aware of how much a non-believer would, or could, accept.

They had arrived at Lord Edgar’s door. The manservant tapped lightly, then opened it and stood aside so that Ash could enter.

The investigator was surprised by what he found. Unlike the lavish grandeur of Haelstrom’s suite, Lord Edgar had opted for splendid simplicity, with admirable and exquisite furnishings and decoration, ornamentation sparse but pleasing. It was a large room that overlooked the sea, the high windows’ heavy drapery drawn back to reveal the dramatic clifftop view, the waves below rippling with the reflections of the clear moon that dominated the stars in a black sky.