Holy Island Trilogy 02 - Nowhere Man (6 page)

‘Come in, come in,’ Count Rene said, stepping back and ushering Prince Carl into the splendid hallway.

A manservant came from the far end, obviously to open the door, and was as surprised as Prince Carl had been. When Count Rene snarled at him, he swiftly turned and disappeared back through a door at the far end of the hallway,

Prince Carl followed him into the large, lavishly furnished drawing room. Count Rene pointed to a seat, by the fireplace, which was still heaped with logs though, in this heat, unlit. A huge mirror dominated the chimneybreast, and dotted around the room were life-sized white marble statues of angels, some with their wings spread as if ready to take flight, and others with their wings closed and their heads bowed in a praying posture. Prince Carl looked at the room through the mirror. He smiled at the ceiling rose, solid gold back-to-back unicorns. It was the trademark of the Families.

‘The usual, Carl?’ Count Rene asked, from the well stocked bar that ran the length of the west wall.

‘Why not. So, I see you’re growing a beard again. What have you been doing in public this ti---- Ah, that’s why you’re here in midsummer, and not at your mansion in the south.’ Prince Carl laughed. ‘You’ve been up to your old tricks again.’

Count Rene handed him a tumbler of whiskey and, sitting in a chair by the fireplace, crossed his legs and said, ‘Nothing special. The police chief suggested it would be best to lie low for a few months until he manages to make certain that one or two trivial items disappear off the radar.’

Prince Carl shook his head. ‘You know, Rene, there are some things we just shouldn’t do. It's nowhere near as easy to control information now, not with this fucking Facebook, and all the other internet sites. Word can get around the planet in minutes.’

‘What can they say, for God's sake? One or two have come close, but it's easily been laughed off as a conspiracy theory, you know that. And that’s why what is planned for the big twelve next year has to happen. You’re right - we can get away with murder, and just about everything else, but we never had to go into hiding, and it will get worse. It was, if you remember, foreseen.’ He scowled, before going on, 'You and others of your thinking are going to rob us of our birthright.’

Prince Carl stubbornly shook his head. ‘It can’t happen.’ He took the glass of whiskey from Count Rene’s hand and took a long swallow. After putting the glass on a side table, he went on, ‘Times have changed, Rene.’

‘Only because you, that idiot Tarasov and a few others are willing to let them. It’s all right for him, stuck in fucking Siberia, where he lives the life our ancestors lived. Getting his kicks by shoving people out naked into below 50 degree temperatures, watching them freeze to death, delighting in the death crystals they produce with their last breath, before having them hauled into his huge larder.’

‘Beats going to Iceland,’ Prince Carl sniggered.

Count Rene snorted. ‘That’s got to be the first time I’ve ever heard you make even an attempt at a joke! Please don’t ever attempt another one. But that aside, I’ve got to know you will back us for the Glorious Twelfth.’

‘No. We have got to learn to adapt. Time to leave the peasant  Neanderthals alone.’

‘It's called progress.’

Prince Carl snorted. ‘It's called unnecessary suffering. And I for one can’t see the need.’

‘So, who cares. They’ve mostly fulfilled their function - now we need time to let the planet breathe.’

Prince Carl sighed. ‘We can still mostly do whatever we want. I really don’t see the need for it. We've already thinned them out with two world wars and various plagues. Plus, think about it. the fewer there are of them, the fewer consumers we’ll have. Can’t you damn well see that?’

Count Rene shook his head. ‘You know, they are breeding far quicker than was predicted. Already they're eating their way around the planet like a herd of fucking locusts. If this goes on, soon there will be no resources left.’

‘Nonsense. You know fine well that global warming was set up as a conspiracy theory. It worked, as well.’

‘So you won't back me?’

‘No.’

There was silence between them for a while, both of them realising that their friendship had run its course. Prince Carl rose from his chair. He nodded at Count Rene, who dropped his head and gave one nod. Prince Carl made for the door and let himself out.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Listening to the fire chief giving his order, Cox suddenly said, ’Bloody hell, where’s Smiler?’  Standing next to him Rafferty, wearing a frown that said, Who cares? shrugged.

Cox hurried back to the car. At first glance it looked like no one was inside. Opening the back door, he saw Smiler crouched in a ball on the floor, crying his eyes out.

‘What’s up, kid?’ Cox asked.

Smiler looked up, tears running down his face, trapped in the deep smile lines carved at each side of his mouth.

‘Rita says he’s all right.’ He heaved a sigh of relief, as he tried to wipe the tears away. ‘He is. If Rita says he’s all right, he really, really is. She knows.’

‘Who’s Rita?’

‘She...she’s a friend. She can see loads better than me, she knows when things are happening. I’m never sure if they’re happening now, gonna happen or already have. She says his spark is burning bright.’

Cox puffed out his cheeks, shrugged, and said, ‘OK, if Rita says he’s all right, who am I to argue with her?’

‘Technically Rita’s a him. She’s a transvestite, she likes dressing in women’s clothes----’

Cox held his hand up. ‘I know what a transvestite is, thanks. Met more than one. And I know the difference between a transvestite and a drag queen. My opinion? It's up to them. So let's get you out of here, lad.’ As he moved his hand down to help Smiler, he was thinking, this whole bloody thing just gets weirder and weirder. He said, ‘Come on then, sunshine, move it.’

Hesitatingly, Smiler held out his hand for Cox to help him up thinking, Get a grip, get a grip, behaving like a fucking girl! He ground his teeth together.

Seven years old was the last time Smiler had cried. He’d vowed then, when the man had wiped his tears with a grin on his face, and walked away without looking back, never to cry again. He’d managed just fine up till now. It was good not to feel, easier to survive. And then he’d met Mike, and everything changed. Now he could feel, but now he could also hurt…again.

Once out of the car, Smiler started rambling, ‘I can't see him, but Rita can. Rita says he’s fine.’

Having seen the state of the car and heard what the fireman had to say, Cox doubted this very much. But he said, ‘So, er - tell me more about this Rita.'

Smiler sighed, but it was an impatient sigh, dredged up by the memories he’d just had. He snapped, ‘ Friggin' hell… Rita lives in London, she knows a lot of things, if she says she can see Mike, then she can. OK?’

‘See him how?’

‘In her mind, of course, where else?’ Smiler looked at Cox as if he was an idiot. ‘I can't tell the difference if they are in a coma or unconscious or dead… They sort of just go away.’  He clenched his fists to stop them from trembling, clinging faithfully to what Rita had told him, starting to get slightly edgy from the fact that this copper who he hardly knew seemed to doubt him.

‘So where’s Rita now?' Cox asked.

‘In London.’

‘Phone you, did she?’

‘No.’

‘Am I missing something?’

Smiler glared at him from under his eyelids, and stubbornly refused to be drawn into any more question and answer sessions.

Too nosy, this one. He might be one of Mike’s friends, but he also might be after something else.

By this time they had reached the edge. They looked over and watched as two firemen, both tied to an engine, and each of them carrying a winching cable, very carefully, inch by inch, made their way down the rocky slope.

The fireman on the left reached the car a couple of seconds before the other one. Deftly he slipped the cable under the front axle, looped it over and clipped it together. Giving the thumbs up to the other fireman, he tugged on his rope and slowly, with help from above, began to make his way back up. Once he was out of the way, the second fireman moved in.

Glancing at Smiler, and noticing his grim, set face, Cox said, ‘Stop worrying, kid, the worst’s over. Ten minutes, tops.’

Smiler turned to look at him. His expression sent shivers down Cox’s spine, and what he said next did not help.

Shaking his head, Smiler said slowly, ‘No… It’s just begun.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

There was one nerve-wracking moment, when they all held their breath as the car got stuck in a small avalanche of soil. The firemen, jumping back down as if they were abseiling down the side of a building, managed to move it carefully away with their bare hands. Everyone was desperately praying that their actions would not start  a bigger avalanche. The firemen were again hauled up to the road, then the final operation to get the car up, and Mike free, began.

At first it was inch by slow inch while everyone watched in fear, holding hands. The ten minutes that it took seemed to drag on and on. Then, amidst cheers, the car was finally pulled onto the road.

Smiler was the first one to the door. With a struggle, and a whole lot of determination, he managed to pull it open.

‘Mike.’

Kristina, standing right behind Smiler, echoed Mike’s name. Neither of them received an answer. Kristina’s hand went to her mouth, her eyes welling up with tears. Mike wasn’t moving. Please God, please, she prayed, let him be alive.

Smiler was frozen to the spot, his eyes wide in horror, convinced now that Rita had made a mistake. Stepping between them, Cox placed his fingers on Mike’s pulse. After a moment, his smile slowly spread. ‘He’s alive, thank God.’

‘What?’ Smiler gulped before echoing Cox. ‘He’s alive?’

Still smiling, Cox nodded.

Katrina wanted to jump in the air. Her heart racing, she said, ‘You’re sure?’

Smiler swung his gaze back to Cox, waiting for more confirmation.

Cox nodded. ‘Yep, he’ll be around to torment us for a long time yet.’ He lifted his hand to pat Smiler’s shoulder, thought better of it and said, ‘Looks like your friend Rita was right after all.’

Smiler gave him a slow, satisfied nod.

Cox moved over for the paramedic, a young man with a blond beard and moustache and the most startling green eyes, who placed his fingers on the same pulse as Cox. After a moment, he nodded, then started checking Mike out, while his partner - a middle aged woman with a friendly smile-and another fireman brought a stretcher over. By this time, two other firemen had taken the door off the car, making plenty of room for people to reach Mike safely.

‘We’ll have to move him to find out where the blood’s coming from,' said the young paramedic. 'I’m pretty sure he’s knocked himself out by hitting his head on the door. But it’s the blood I’m worried about. His vital signs are strong, though.’

Everyone hastily moved away to give the paramedics a chance to do their job. As they put him on the stretcher, Mike groaned. He opened his eyes, looked right at Smiler and, after a moment, winked. Smiler’s heart skipped a beat. Rita was right!

Wishing the wink had been for her, Kristina climbed in to the ambulance behind Mike, telling the paramedics that she was Mike’s partner, which was true - only, not in the way that they believed. Smiler put his foot on the first step of the ambulance, only to be held back by a restraining hand from the first paramedic, who had taken Mike’s pulse and declared him alive. Smiler refused to move.

‘Sorry, but family only,’ the paramedic said.

‘I am family,’ Smiler replied determinedly.

Seeing the stubborn look on Smiler’s face, he relented and, shaking his head, turned back to Mike. ‘OK, let’s see what we’ve got here. Can you turn over onto your right side, please, and we’ll see where the blood’s coming from.’

Smiler, who had no love for the sight of blood, hastily looked away as the man helped Mike to roll over.

When he lifted Mike’s t-shirt, the paramedic said, ‘Oh. Nasty.’

‘What?’ Mike asked, trying to wriggle around to see, but Kristina grabbed his hand and, touching his face, said, ‘No, Mike, please-leave it to them.’

Frowning, he asked, ‘How bad is it?’

Smiler held his breath, waiting for the paramedic's answer, begging any God up there who would listen for Mike to be all right.

‘Actually,’ the young man said, with a smile, ‘it’s nowhere near as bad as it looks. The bullet's grazed along the side, and made a groove about seven inches long, but it's all surface. It’s the length of it that’s caused so much blood. You’re gonna be fine, mate, once we get you out of here and into the hospital.’

‘You always were a lucky bugger,’ Kristina grinned. ‘Did you see who did it, recognise anyone?’

Gently looking into her eyes, Mike removed Kristina’s hand from his face. Registering the slight momentary hurt in her eyes, he looked quickly away. Kristina was a complication he certainly didn’t need at this time. To be close to him meant danger for everyone concerned.

‘No.’

His tone had been deliberately harsh. He went on in the same manner, while Smiler frowned at him, ‘Neither did I recognise the car, or even see the friggin’ colour, before you ask. It all happened too damn fast, OK?’

Turning to the paramedic, he said, ‘Lousy headache. Have you got anything for it?’

‘We’ll be at the hospital in three minutes, mate. They’ll sort you.’

‘I’m not going in.’

The paramedic swung round to face Kristina and raised his eyebrows in an expression that said, Help me out here.

Kristina stared at Mike for a moment before saying, ‘You have to go in to the hospital, Mike, you’ve had a nasty bang on your head. It needs looking at. Plus, that wound is still bleeding-you could end up with all sorts of infections if you leave it.’

‘I’ll live.’

‘You’re just being pig-headed now.’

‘She’s right,’ the paramedic nodded.

‘Yes, she is,’ Smiler added.

Mike swung his head to Smiler and glowered at him. ‘Did I ask for your input? Go on get yourself back to London where you belong. You’re nothing but a friggin' nuisance, anyhow.’