Ash (8 page)

‘Simon Maseby obtained a couple of copies from Kate McCarrick at your own Psychical Research Institute. He passed them on to us a few days ago. I’m surprised you haven’t written more on the subject.’

Ash was surprised Kate hadn’t mentioned giving copies of his book to Maseby earlier. ‘One book was enough. The fact is, I’ve experienced too many genuine – or let’s say, inexplicable – cases that have led me to doubt most of my original conjectures. I’ve learned to approach each new case with an open mind.’

‘Is that possible?’ she asked.

‘No, of course not.’ He smiled. ‘But these days I try to keep my natural scepticism in check. Tell me, though, what’s your take on the alleged haunting at Comraich Castle?’

‘I’m just not sure about anything that’s happening there. My own common sense keeps me grounded, but . . .’

Ash’s ears suddenly popped and he turned away to look through the window on his left. It was pure grey out there now and growing darker as the plane began its descent.

‘It’s just normal procedure, Mr Ash. We won’t be landing for a while yet.’

This time it was she who turned to the plexiglas window by her seat. He watched as she strained to get a view of the land below. Her neck was elegant, finely shaped, and her profile added to her allure. He thought he could sense a barely repressed passion hidden beneath the formal yet chic outfit and her calm manner.

‘We’re deep in cloud,’ she remarked superfluously as she tried to see through the mist. ‘At this point in the flight we’re usually somewhere over Comraich. When the weather is clear it’s a wonderful sight. Sometimes I—’

The cabin lights failed as the jet suddenly lurched, then began to free-fall.

Ash clutched the arms of his seat, his fingers clawing to grip them hard as he found his body was almost weightless.

The girl, Petra, shrieked as she was tossed from the three-seater. Then everything darkened as the plane plummeted towards the earth.

Luckily, Ash was still wearing his seatbelt, which had been such a comfortable fit he’d forgotten to unfasten it. Nevertheless, as the plane dropped with such suddenness, he felt as if he’d left his stomach behind. The cabin lights were not functioning and neither was anything else on the jet: there was no background hum of the engines and no seatbelt or emergency warning lights. He might have cried out, such was the fear that suddenly swept through him, but in the dim grey light coming through the windows he saw the psychologist rising weightlessly before him.

Instinctively, he grabbed her with both hands and pulled her down to him. He heard screaming, but it wasn’t coming from her. Petra had spilled from her makeshift bed to be thrown upwards almost to the ceiling as the Gulfstream jet had entered its steep dive.

Ash had managed to get his hands round the doctor’s back and he hugged her tightly, the side of her head pressed against his shoulder. Oddly, for such a perilous situation, he was aware of the sweet light scent she wore, and even under that, the faint fragrance of the herbal shampoo she must have used to wash her hair that morning. He felt her panic and heard her soft moaning even over the screams coming from her patient.

‘It’s okay,’ he told her, speaking loudly with all the calmness he could muster. ‘We’ve hit an air pocket, that’s all.’

But the plane went into a deeper dive which sent Petra sliding down the cabin. Ash knew a simple air pocket wouldn’t interfere with the aircraft’s mechanical and electrical systems, but there was no other explanation he could give to reassure the doctor.

She buried her face into the corner of his neck and shoulder and clutched him for dear life, her body trembling, her breath coming in short sharp gasps. He could feel her tears on his neck and he brought up a hand to press her head into him. The Gulfstream 450 dropped even further into the darkness of rain-filled clouds, and Ash, now sure they were all going to die, held on to the psychologist for his own sake as much as hers. Pressure built up in the cabin, sending terrible mind-numbing pain through his head. He wanted to release the quaking woman from his embrace and clamp his hands over his ears for relief, but he fought the urge and held her even more tightly in his arms. All noise seemed far away until his ears unexpectedly popped and Petra’s screams came back full-throttle.

Then the darkness gave way to daylight again, the row of windows quickly growing brighter, so that he was able to see around the cabin as before. But the jet continued to plummet and the screams from Petra hadn’t ceased.

Then the lights in the cabin suddenly returned and Ash heard the jet’s engines roar back into life. It took several terrifying seconds for the pilot to regain control of his aircraft, but soon the plane began to level out and resume its course. Captain Roberts’s steady voice came over the intercom.

‘Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve no idea why that little problem occurred, but I can assure you that everything’s shipshape again.’

Ash could imagine the pilot crossing his fingers as he spoke.

‘Everything’s running smoothly now and you can see for yourselves we’re below the clouds. We’ll maintain this height until our final descent to Prestwick in a few minutes. Please keep your seatbelts fastened until we land. Our landing will be fine, believe me. As far as we can tell, we have no faults, significant or otherwise, so please try to relax until we’re on the ground. When we do land, I recommend a fine Scotch or brandy, then another. I’m only sorry I won’t be able to join you – I’ve two more flights later today. “Chuckles” here has a grin on his face you wouldn’t believe, although I’m not sure he hasn’t wet himself.’

His voice was crisper when he addressed the air stewardess. ‘Ginny, will you make sure everyone’s comfortable back there, then report to the cockpit.’ His voice became less formal again. ‘First Officer Collins will join you to explain our unpleasant but mercifully brief interlude once we’ve run through a few more minor checks.’

The intercom went silent.

Ash felt Dr Wyatt slump in his arms, not in a faint, he was sure, but with relief. His hold on her became more tender, comforting, but still she trembled. He could hear sobs from Petra, who now lay in the aisle by his side.

‘Dr Wyatt,’ Ash said softly, ‘everything’s fine. We’re out of danger now. The pilot has control of the plane; there’s no need to be afraid any longer.’
Unless the same thing happens again as we approach Prestwick
, he thought sombrely.

Rivulets of rain were driven diagonally across the row of small windows by the aircraft’s speed, but at least the grey daylight worked with the cabin lights to make everything visible again.

The woman in his arms gently pulled away from him so that she could look into his face. He relaxed his grip but didn’t entirely let go. Her deep brown eyes were softened by tears, but as they stared into his, he detected a trace of uncertainty in them. Somehow, the shared near-death experience and the intimacy it created between them had confused her even more.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her face so close, her lips so near, her very scent so enticing, that he was reluctant to give her up.

‘It was my pleasure,’ he said glibly, stupidly. ‘I—’

Too late. She’d regained some of her composure.

She pushed against his chest to steady herself as she rose to her feet. ‘I have to see to Petra,’ she said, and he became aware of the girl’s cries of fear once more.

Dr Wyatt moved away from Ash and knelt to attend to her patient. ‘It’s all right, Petra, everything’s okay,’ Ash heard her say soothingly.

But the young girl was still in panic and she thrashed at the air around her as if the plane were still in free-fall.

‘Petra, Petra, please.’ The psychologist held the quaking girl’s wrists to avoid being struck herself.

‘Can I help?’

Dr Wyatt motioned her head towards the seat she’d occupied before the Gulfstream’s loss of power. ‘If you could get my bag . . .’ She hardly glanced at Ash, concerned that her hysterical patient might injure herself.

‘Sure.’ Ash reached for the leather strap-bag that was now wedged beneath the seat opposite, but he was restrained by his own safety belt. He quickly released the metal clasp and reached again for the bag. Pulling it free, he turned and thrust it towards the doctor.

‘Please, open it for me,’ she said evenly, her hands still around the girl’s wrists.

Ash fumbled with the bag’s two buckles and opened it up. Finally releasing Petra, the doctor took the crinkled leather bag and reached inside.

‘I have to sedate her,’ she said briskly. ‘I gave her a mild sedative before we boarded, but she needs something a lot stronger. It means an injection if it’s to have an immediate effect.’

‘Anything I can do? Hold her down, maybe?’

‘No, I can manage. She’d only fight against you, but she trusts me.’ Now the psychologist turned her head his way. No confusion this time: she was all efficiency, emotions put aside for a while. ‘You could see if anyone else is hurt. The stewardess might be injured if she wasn’t wearing a belt.’

Ash levered himself off the seat. ‘Call me if you need a hand with Petra.’

But Dr Wyatt was already drawing out a small medical box from the open bag, all her concentration on treating her distressed patient.

Ash made his way down the cabin, walking unsteadily, and not just because he was on a moving plane. His first stop was by the shabby little man with the bald head. He was frozen in his seat, hands gripping the armrests on either side, his eyes closed. He could have been unconscious.

Leaning closer to the man, Ash said, ‘You okay? Can I get you anything? A drink, maybe? The plane’s fine, there’s no more danger.’

The man’s eyes opened, and they were cold as he stared up at Ash. ‘You might see to the stewardess,’ he said quietly. ‘I think she took a fall.’

Ash left him, wondering why this guy hadn’t gone to Ginny’s aid himself. He found her on the floor by the exit door, the seat in front hiding her from view. She seemed to have hit the back of her head when the Gulfstream had taken the dive, for one hand was stretched behind her neck as if feeling for a wound. At least her eyes were open, Ash noted as he knelt beside her. Her eyelids fluttered, but she recognized him immediately.

‘You must have cracked your head when the plane dropped,’ he said.

Ginny blinked several times more before responding. ‘I think I’m okay,’ she assured him weakly. ‘No real damage, just a knock to the head.’ She tried to rub the spot, but it was awkward for her.

‘Let me take a look.’ Ash put a hand around her neck and gently pulled her head away from the door. He peered over her shoulder and felt her scalp through her thick hair. ‘No blood. You might have a bump there soon. D’you hurt anywhere else?’

‘The – the other passengers,’ she managed to stammer. ‘Is everyone all right?’ She seemed genuinely anxious and Ash was impressed.

‘They’re all fine, just a bit shaken,’ he reassured her. ‘The young girl, though – Petra – is in shock. Dr Wyatt’s treating her right now.’

‘And – and you, Mr Ash. Any injuries?’

‘No, I was lucky. Still strapped in.’

‘We always recommend passengers keep their seatbelt on throughout the flight.’

‘Well, people don’t like to think they’re in mortal danger. Seems kind of wimpish to stay buckled in.’

‘If you could help me up, I’ll go and see if I can do anything for them. We’ll be landing in a few minutes, but I think we’ve got time to settle their nerves with a large double of whatever’s their preference.’

‘Captain Roberts recommends we hit the bar once we’ve landed.’

‘Oh, I’d better get into the cockpit to report the situation back here.’

‘I don’t think you should try to walk just yet, Ginny. Look at your leg.’ Her right ankle was beginning to bloom into a watery swelling. The air stewardess groaned more in irritation than pain.

‘I don’t think it’s broken,’ Ash advised, ‘but you must have sprained it badly.’

‘Can you – can you help me up? I have to make some checks.’

‘Ginny, with that inflating bulge you won’t be checking anything for a while.’

As he put his hands under her armpits and began lifting her on to the seats, Ginny wincing as she rose, the cockpit door opened behind him and First Officer Collins stepped out.

‘A little help here?’ Ash asked mid-lift.

‘Ginny, what damage?’ Collins’s voice was tense.

Ash answered for her. ‘A nasty blow on the back of her head – no blood, though – and an even nastier sprained ankle. Nothing too serious as far as I can tell, no broken bones. Help me get her on facing seats, will you?’

First Officer Collins hurriedly slid one arm around the stewardess’s shoulders and the other under her knees. Ash followed suit on the opposite side and between them they manoeuvred Ginny into a seat. Apart from some sharp intakes of breath, she seemed all right.

Ash straightened and addressed Collins. ‘Are we okay now? D’you know what happened to the jet’s power?’

‘I could tell you we hit an air pocket, which caused the plane to drop, but I know you wouldn’t believe me.’ His voice was low, keeping the conversation strictly between Ash and himself. ‘In all my experience with different planes, I’ve never once gone through anything like that before. All power, all electrics, just packed up. We couldn’t even put out a Mayday. It’s a goddamn mystery to us. We can only pray it doesn’t happen again, although, with all power back on we’ve sent out a distress signal to Prestwick so they’ll be on full alert when we land. But look, I mean it: everything in the plane is functioning normally.’

‘I’ll take your word for it. Why don’t you look after Ginny here while I go back to give Dr Wyatt a hand? The girl with her is in a bad way, but as far as we can tell she hasn’t sustained any serious injury.’

‘Thank you, sir. Your help is appreciated. I’ll be along myself shortly.’

The investigator retraced his steps down the cabin, taking a quick peek at the person Ash had heard called Twigg.

The small man, in his oversized trench coat, sat in exactly the same position as before and, although his pale eyes were open, he didn’t bother to acknowledge Ash.