Holy Island Trilogy 02 - Nowhere Man (3 page)

‘Do they know any fucking thing?' Angrily, Mike started punching his hand as he went back to his pacing.

Smiler quickly swung his head from one to the other. Unable to help himself, he started to sob.

At once, Mike was at his side, his own feelings pushed away. Thinking only of Smiler, he said, ’The doctor only said
might be
, Smiler, and the docs always give you worst case. Isn’t that right, Dave?’ He rested his hand on Smiler’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, expecting it to be repelled at any moment - Smiler allowed minimum physical contact - and willing Dave to agree with him about the doctors, for the kid's sake.

Smiler looked up at Brother David who, after a brief moment, silently nodded at him.

‘Tell you what, would you rather stay here in the hospital? Maybe go home tonight, Smiler, at least for a proper night's sleep? Dave will  call you if there’s any change.’ He looked at Brother David, who nodded again.

‘Of course I will, Smiler.’

‘Right. Sorted. I’ll go and see Jill about Tiny, I’m sure she’ll be all right about it until you get back tonight,’ Mike said.

Sighing, Smiler replied softly, ‘No. I want to stay here tonight as well, I want…I’m gonna stay here until she wakes up.’

Mike removed his hand from Smiler's shoulder, amazed that he hadn’t shrugged it off after a few moments. Perhaps he’s starting to trust me more, Mike thought, with a pleased sigh. Now that would be real progress.

‘OK, we’ll see how it goes. I’ve got some things to sort, before I leave. I’ll go back to the island, see if Jill really will look after Tiny. If not, I guess he’ll be all right in the dog pound for a day or two.’ He pulled his mobile out and flashed it at Brother David, as if the brother had no connection to the present and didn’t know what a mobile phone was. ‘Do you remember the number, Dave?’

‘I’ve got it,’ Smiler put in, before Brother David, refusing to take the bait, smiled and nodded.

‘There’s one more thing I have to do before I go.’ Mike pulled a small white envelope out of his pocket and moved closer to Aunt May, tipping the contents into his hand. Brother David’s face lit up as he saw Aunt May’s gold cross slide out of the envelope.

‘Help me slip this under her neck, Dave.’

‘I wondered where that was. She's never taken it off for... how many years?’ Brother David smiled as he gently put his fingers under her neck, and caught the chain that Mike was pushing through from the other side. Catching it, he stretched across and put the chain into Mike’s hand.

‘Kristina found it when we went to examine the place she was attacked by them cowardly bastards. They must have ripped it off her neck just for the fun of it, or just because they could. I popped out first thing this morning and bought a new chain. Hopefully she won't notice when she wakes up.’

‘Wouldn’t bank on that one,’ Brother David replied with a smile. ‘We’ve never yet been able to get one over on her in all this time, have we?’

Mike slowly shook his head in answer, he took one more lingering look at Aunt May, and fastened the catch. He set the cross gently on her chest, kissed his middle and forefingers and placed the kiss on her cheek.

‘You hurry up and get better, Aunt May. I’ll always be thinking of you wherever I am, but there’s something I’ve gotta do. I promise I’ll be right back to see you as soon as you wake up. Nothing or no one will keep me away.’ Then, without a backward glance at either Smiler or Brother David, he turned and walked out the door.

But neither of them had missed the tightening of Mike’s jaw, nor the narrowing of his eyes.

‘Mike’s a doer, Smiler,’ Brother David said solemnly.

‘I know,’ Smiler mumbled.

‘Would you like to hold my hand in prayer?’ Brother David reached his hand across the bed.

Smiler visibly shrank in on himself. Quickly, he put his head down and stared at his feet - but not quickly enough for Brother David to miss the look of horror on his face, leaving the monk wondering just what had happened to this child in his short life. Withdrawing his hand, he began to pray as tears ran down Smiler’s face.

CHAPTER THREE

Kirill Tarasov paced the length of his oak panelled study, a glass of English vodka in his hand, a cigar in the other. Not his first choice in vodka, but that stupid brain-dead housekeeper had forgotten to restock, and not for the first time.

‘Should have broken more than her jaw,’ he muttered, staring out of the window at the Siberian winter. ‘She’s only alive because she’s the best cook I’ve ever had, never thought I’d ever say it but ugly shrimp of a peasant is practically irreplaceable.’ He turned to the other occupant of the room and shrugged. ‘So what’s wrong with you? They’re only fucking peasants, for fuck's sake. It's not that when you’re using them to chase away the nightmares after your morphine fix, is it?’

Before his son Vadim could answer, his oldest daughter, Lovilla, entered the room holding the phone. Lovilla was tall, blonde and slim, with a natural dark brown beauty spot at the corner of her mouth, of the type once so beloved of '50s American stars. ‘Father,’ she said before going on sarcastically with a sneer, ‘ the esteemed Earl Simmons is on the video link. He says it’s urgent.’

Vadim sniggered.

‘Damn the man.’ Tarasov put his drink on the table and, frowning at his son, wished as for God knows how many times before that a certain one of his outbreed sons was the one standing in front of him, and not this pathetic legal. He moved over to the phone and took it out of Lovilla’s outstretched hand.

‘OK, Simmons, it's only a couple of days since I saw you last. What the hell’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until next month?’

Quickly Simmons gave him a brief run-down. When he was finished, he said, ‘And so I’m calling a meeting for three days' time. Never have we been in such danger before. Even that, that bunch of flaming witches has never come this close.’

‘Well, I do beg to differ there. Once or twice the bunch of flaming witches  haven’t been short of the mark. And, might I add, if your family had succeeded in wiping out the right ones in 1645, instead of burning and drowning ordinary peasants just to make a show, then we wouldn’t have this trouble today. All that witch hunting only succeeded in driving the real culprits underground.’

‘Why do you always insist on blaming my family for everything that ever goes wrong?’ Simmonds snapped.

‘Perhaps because they are.’ Before Simmonds, who was practically foaming at the mouth, could let off more steam, Tarasov went on. ‘But all of this ridiculous hoo-ha through one fucking man…Over-reacting a bit, as usual, aren’t you? And what’s going to happen in the next few days? Just allowing him to run free, are we, take the piss out of us?’

‘No!'  Simmonds was practically shouting now. ‘As we speak, he is being dealt with.’

‘Well, let's hope so. Also, when have we ever personally dealt with something as mundane as this ourselves? For God's sake, we are supposed to have people trained for this very thing who should be getting on with it. When did we ever dirty our hands? Really, it's all becoming very boring, to say the least.’

‘For your information Tarasov, not one, but three top assassins have been assigned to him. I can't see him surviving much past the next twenty-four hours. In fact, there’s a whole mop up going on, as well as extra people drafted in to look for that damn book.’

For a moment Tarasov was quiet. Lovilla frowned as she watched an emotion she rarely saw play across her father’s face, before he said, ‘So, if it's all in hand, why another trek so soon to your dismal part of the globe?’

Simmons bristled, giving the exact reaction Kirill aimed for. ‘We all know the world can not go on as it is. Billions and billions of people increasing at such an alarming rate. And the world is warming far more rapidly than was predicted.’

Tarasov held up his hand. ‘Oh please, spare me the details. It’s all rubbish. As usual, you’re panicking over nothing.’

‘The meeting is in the usual place. Goodbye.’

Tarasov brought his palm down hard on the connection button, a disdainful snarl on his mouth. ‘Fools, the lot of them.’

His son laughed again.

‘I’m pleased you find it funny. The idiots are starting to believe the very myths that we started.’

Vadim shrugged.

‘Can I come with you this trip, Father?’ Lovilla hastily put in, before Vadim could say anything else to enrage their father. ‘I would love to do some shopping in London. And I feel the need for the sun on my skin.'

‘You are not long back from Spain.’

‘And?’ She pulled a face.

Tarasov looked at her as he thought it over, knowing full well that shopping was the last thing on Lovilla’s mind. ‘OK, why not. It's time a few of you were showing more interest in family matters.’ He glared at his son, who shrugged, then cast his eyes over his sister. The look that passed between them was an undeclared act of war.

He watched as Lovilla, totally unconcerned about her brother and probably laughing to herself at the gauntlet he had just thrown down, left the room. Tarasov had always suspected that this daughter would be the one out of all of his legal children who would eventually take up the reins of the family empire. He was pleased, in a sense-she was the brightest, and the only one who delighted in the same culinary adventures as he did. And now he would have to watch her in case she became ambitious too soon.

‘Huh.' Vadim stormed out. For a brief moment, the biting cold entered the room, as the door slammed behind him.

Tarasov moved to the window and watched his son storm along the veranda, knowing that he did not stand a chance against Lovilla. It was the way of the Families. 

Still staring at the snow, he sighed as he pulled his mobile phone out and dialled a London number.

CHAPTER FOUR

Mike had hold of Tiny’s lead. A few months earlier, when the world had been normal, and he’d first set eyes on this huge brute with the unlikeliest name, he’d called him the damned ugliest dog in creation. Now, though, he would be the first to admit that Tiny did have a certain charm, and that those large paws of his were wrapped firmly round Mike’s heart. As soon as people got over their first impression, they learned to love him.

Mike stood at the water's edge on St Cuthbert’s Isle, a little islet which, centuries ago, St Cuthbert had used for meditation. After a trial period of being a hermit, he moved to the more remote island of Inner Farne. Mike had been surprised when he found out that Smiler knew so much about the history of Lindisfarne, and of St Cuthbert.

But, he thought with a hint of a smile, seeing as St Cuthbert was credited with being a healer and a seer, Smiler’s probably read the print off the page of every article he could find.

Tiny was enjoying himself as he ran quickly from side to side, picking up sticks, stones and any amount of rubbish and depositing it at Mike’s feet.

Mike said good morning to a few locals as both they and their own dogs nervously eyed Tiny, frightened in case he wanted them for supper. They needn’t have worried Tiny was gentle, loving and terrified of most animals a quarter his size.

Staring across the water at St Cuthbert’s Cross, Mike thought about Aunt May. She loves it here, but will she ever see it again? Brain damage could mean anything, doesn’t necessarily mean the actual brain. She could lose her legs or something, the use of an arm… Please let it be something like that. Anything other than actual brain damage.

Tiny came back with the latest offering, and dropped what looked like a child’s grubby red and green striped sock at Mike's feet, and started nudging at Mike’s hand.

Mike patted his head. ‘Come on then, boy, we’ve gotta get you sorted out. I know you’ll prefer the place I’m gonna see if they’ll have you, rather than the police pound.’

Slipping his lead on, they walked through the village to their street-but instead of going into their own door, they moved one up. Mike entered Jill Patterson’s back yard, and was just about to knock on the door when it opened.

‘Hi, Mike.’ Jill smiled at him. Mike was slightly taken aback-a smile from Jill was a very rare event.

‘Hello… I, er... I need to ask you a favour, Jill.’

‘Just ask.’

That fairly threw him. He had not known Jill very long, but the petite redhead was not usually so obliging. She had a reputation as a man hater, which had followed her from her previous job.

‘Please, don’t think you have to be obliged.’

‘Well that depends what it is.’ The smile grew wider and Mike would have sworn she was flirting with him.

She stepped away from the door and stood on the back of her slipper. As she bent over to put it back on her foot, Mike noticed how low her yellow top was, and was momentarily distracted from his tortured thoughts. Catching her green eyes as she straightened up, he expected at the very least a substantial tongue-lashing, but was pleasantly surprised when she smiled and motioned for him to come into the house.

‘How can I help you, then?’

Jesus. She’s been replaced by a flaming alien!

This is definitely not the Jill I know...

Before Mike could reply, the small kitchen was filled with squeals of delight as Jill’s teenage daughters Jayne and Cassie came in and saw Tiny. Loving the attention, Tiny flopped down and rolled over, his massive paws waving in the air and his heavy tail thumping the floor, with a delighted girl at each side of him.

‘Well, er, it’s actually, it’s about Tiny… I was wondering...’

‘You need a dog sitter don’t you?’ Jill put in, her eyebrows raised in a question.

‘I realise it’s a bit of a cheek, and short notice. But he’s no bother, and he’ll be quite happy in the garden when you’re out,’ Mike said quickly, dreading her answer. Shit, I really shouldn’t have asked her, she’s under enough stress. I’ll put him up in the police pound. He’ll be all right there.

‘Look, it’s OK. It’s a bit much to ask. And you’re very busy. Wasn’t thinking straight, sorry.’ He turned to go.

‘Mum!’ Cassie squealed. ‘He has to stay here. Please, Mum. We’ll look after him. And better still, he’ll look after us. Won't you, boy?’ She patted Tiny’s head, and was rewarded by a wet doggie kiss on her cheek.