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Authors: Dean Vincent Carter

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BOOK: The Hand of the Devil
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I reached the gate and clambered over. I kept looking in the undergrowth around me. Mather might have been watching me when I’d left the clearing, might have guessed which direction I’d take.
Before long I came to the top of the slope that led down to the small beach and the boathouse. Without hesitation, I ran down the slope to the small shed, kicking up clouds of sand as I went. In a blind panic I pulled at the door of the hut, trying to wrench it open.
‘Mr Reeves.’
I froze. It was impossible to turn and face him. All I could do was stare at the warped wood of the door before me as he approached.
‘What on earth are you up to? If you were that desperate to get home you need only have said so. As a matter of fact, I was just coming to collect you.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, unsure of how to continue. ‘I . . . I don’t know what came over me.’ I took my hands away from the wood and managed to turn and face him, offering what must have looked like a forced smile.
‘It’s all right. You are a long way from home after all.’ Mather noticed the damp stains of death and dirt on my trousers but said nothing. He grinned, then looked up at the sky. ‘It seems to be getting colder, and I don’t doubt there’ll be more rain this afternoon. How about a nice cup of tea before we set off?’
‘Um . . . yes . . .’ I wanted to argue, to tell him I had to leave straight away, but I could hardly speak. I was terrified.
We walked back up the slope and towards the clearing. My escape attempt had been thwarted. How much Mather suspected was unclear, but to be safe I had to assume he knew everything. The unpleasant wet patches on my trousers were enough to give me away. Maybe there would be some way of getting away from him, if I could only stay alive long enough.
The front door was open when we arrived back at the house. I could hear music, though I couldn’t remember seeing any hi-fi equipment of any kind. I walked in ahead of Mather, trying not to look as if I expected to be attacked at any moment. I stopped and he led me into the living room, where he told me to make myself comfortable. To my surprise, on a table near the fireplace was a gramophone. I’d never seen one up close before, let alone heard one. It was a handsome device. The large, trumpet-like horn was light green in colour, with a darker green trim, and resembled a huge flower. The box it stood on was a light brown, polished wood with a glass window in the front panel revealing the inner workings. I looked down at the record that was revolving on the turntable. It took a few seconds because it was moving, but I managed to read the title of the classical piece:
La Main du Diable
performed by Pandemonium.
The title was French. The music was unusual: there didn’t seem to be any noticeable arrangement or structure. Pandemonium were certainly accomplished, but in some places it sounded like a free-for-all, an improvised battle with instruments as weapons. The record sleeve was fairly worn and, where the light from the window caught the dark areas, layers upon layers of fingerprints could be seen. It was clearly a popular record.
Mather excused himself and left the room. I reflected that if he had been playing music, he couldn’t have been too anxious about the situation, unless this revealed yet another freakish side to his character. But perhaps I wasn’t in as much danger as I’d feared. Returning cautiously to the hall, I tried to listen above the music. Nothing. I couldn’t stand still, so I moved down the hall and found Mather’s door open.
He was drawing the panel back across the front of the alcove where the Ganges Red had been hidden away. He did it quite slowly, unlike before, as though he didn’t want to make any noise. Something caused him to turn, and he jumped when he saw me standing by the door. He put a hand on his chest somewhat dramatically, then chuckled.
‘Good Lord. You gave me quite a start.’
‘I’m sorry, I was just—’
‘Forget about it.’ He looked back at the false wall, then walked towards me. ‘Now then, how about that tea?’
‘Actually I’m fine, I—’
‘Well, let’s go into the living room anyway.’ Although I’d startled him, Mather now seemed fairly calm, as though things were progressing as he had hoped. My unease grew. It was hard to know what to make of his behaviour.
Back in the living room, Mather strolled over to the gramophone and lifted the needle from the record, which had finished playing.
‘An interesting piece,’ I remarked, trying to sound calm.
‘A masterpiece, as far as I am concerned. Pandemonium only produced a small number of works, but what works! The effect, the way they stimulate the mind, is just sublime. Inspired work.’ He picked up the record, balancing it carefully on the index finger of one hand, then slid it expertly into the sleeve. He walked over to one of the small floor cupboards and pushed the record inside.
‘Now then, Mr Reeves’ – he gestured to a chair – ‘make yourself comfortable.’
I put down the bag and camera and perched on the armchair. Mather took his usual seat, crossing his legs with an easy, comfortable manner. If he was brimming with malicious intent, he was hiding it well. ‘Did you see anything of interest on your long walk?’
I didn’t like his use of the word ‘long’. It implied that I’d been away for longer than expected.
‘Not really. I saw a fair bit of the island. The other beach, the forest, the—’
‘Research centre?’ The way he finished my sentence caught me by surprise and unsettled me. I’d already decided that it was pointless to lie about the place. Given how long I’d been away, it was unlikely that I’d missed it.
‘Er, yes. Yes, I did. Didn’t you say that there were no other buildings on the island?’ There was a waver in my voice. I prayed it betrayed no nervousness.
‘To be honest, it slipped my mind. I don’t go to that side of the island, you see. I had a look around when I first came here but there’s nothing of any real interest there.’
‘I see.’
Mather remained calm, and was almost convincing. But he was probably used to dealing with the subject by now, and had planned his story, his excuses.
‘It’s no longer in use, of course,’ he said. ‘It was shut down years ago due to lack of funding.’
‘I see.’ Acrobats were performing in my stomach.
You liar
, I thought.
You’ve been near it all right. And I know exactly what you’ve been doing in there. I’m going to make sure the rest of the world knows too
.
Mather cast me a meaningful look. It was as though in the mere seconds his eyes had been boring into mine, he had read my thoughts and understood my intent. ‘So did you . . . take a look inside?’
‘No.’ Damn. I said it far too quickly. Mather looked at me with one raised, enquiring eyebrow.
‘No, I didn’t,’ I said after a pause. ‘It didn’t look too safe. I had a look around outside though.’
‘Right.’ Mather glanced casually out of the window, a slight smile remaining on his face. ‘You know, thinking about it, you might actually find what’s inside rather intriguing.’
‘Really?’ I tried to appear surprised. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Well, apparently, before the centre was closed down a lot of interesting work was done there.’
Yes, and a lot more work’s been done since it closed too!
‘. . . at all?’
‘Sorry?’ I’d been listening too much to my own thoughts to hear the question.
Mather smiled. He seemed amused by my behaviour. ‘I asked if you were interested in marine life?’
‘Oh. Well, not particularly. Although I have written a few stories for the magazine about fish. Nothing really important though.’
‘I see. Well, I think,’ he said, getting to his feet, ‘you would find the centre quite fascinating. Why don’t we take a quick walk over there now before we head back to the mainland? It’ll only take few minutes.’
I looked up at him, a weak smile on my face, trying to think quickly. I could have said no. I could have said that I was eager to get back home, that I had a lot of work to do. But what then? Would he decide he had no other option but to murder me on the spot?
‘Yes, OK,’ I said, almost without thinking. I had to say something, and I don’t think I ultimately had the guts to say no. If Mather was indeed playing games with me, then I had to play along with him. My survival depended on it. ‘I suppose it can’t hurt,’ I said, affecting another fake smile.
‘Splendid. It shouldn’t take long.’
I wondered if he was actually enjoying himself. He walked off towards the kitchen while I desperately tried to think ahead. His plan must have been to either kill or incapacitate me, depending on what end he had in mind for me. If I was to gain the upper hand, I’d have to strike before we got to the building. But what could I do? Bash him over the head with a log? Push him into the lake? I didn’t know if I had it in me to do either.
He came back into the room wearing a blue waterproof jacket. I stood up.
‘Right,’ Mather said. ‘Shall we be off?’ He clapped his hands and walked to the front door. I picked up my bag and camera and followed.
‘Oh, just a second.’ I remembered the Dictaphone and picked it up off the arm of the chair. When I rejoined Mather he was wearing an amused smile.
‘Mustn’t forget that,’ he said, stepping outside.
‘No, we mustn’t,’ I replied, following.
As I crossed the threshold I heard a strange voice.
Don’t turn your back
.
I thought it was a woman’s voice, though it sounded distorted, like a really bad radio transmission. I looked at Mather, who was standing by the path. He was waiting patiently, and showed no signs of having heard the sound. He started to look at me quizzically, wondering, no doubt, why I was hesitating.
Do not turn your back on him!
This time the voice was louder and clearer than before, and it felt as if it was inside my head. But it didn’t seem like a thought; it was as if someone – or something – was communicating with me. Mather looked as though he was about to do something, suspecting perhaps that I was up to no good. I pre-empted him.
‘Sorry,’ I said, walking over. ‘I thought for a minute that it had started to rain.’ Thankfully the sky overhead was now grey, reinforcing my story.
Mather looked up. ‘Mmm. Yes, we shall have to take care. Still, I don’t think it’s going to be as bad as yesterday.’ With that, he turned and trudged off along the path.
I hesitated briefly, waiting for another warning, but whoever or whatever had spoken to me was now silent. I followed Mather’s footsteps into the trees, happy at least that
he
had his back to
me
, and not the other way round.
VIII: TREPIDATION
Mather seemed quite content to walk on ahead. Perhaps he saw no threat, even though he was giving me an opportunity to attack him. I lacked the courage to take drastic action right then, but what made it even harder was the fact that he seemed so infuriatingly sure of himself. I was convinced that he knew I’d been in the basement. So why was he so unafraid? Why wasn’t he on his guard?
As we passed the second beach, I saw him cast a quick glance towards the boathouse. Maybe he did it on purpose, just to taunt me, maybe not – it was hard to tell, but I tried to keep myself calm and focused.
‘I do hope you’ll have enough material for your story,’ Mather remarked as we approached the gate. ‘I’d hate to think that I’d wasted your time. The Lady is an incredible specimen, but I sometimes wonder if I’m worthy of representing her, if you take my meaning.’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ I replied. ‘You’ve done an excellent job. I can’t see how anyone could fail to be impressed.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ he said, reaching round one side of the gate. I heard the sound of metal protesting, then a loud clang as Mather lifted a bolt of some kind and pushed the gate forward. Perhaps it had been the child in me, but when I’d approached the gate on my own, I’d instinctively climbed over it, not even considering the possibility that it might be unlocked. I couldn’t help but feel foolish.
I walked past Mather, while he pushed the gate back into position behind me. I turned quickly, making sure I didn’t have my back to him. He continued along the path with me in tow. Soon we were turning the corner and facing the research centre.
We were almost at the porch when I noticed Mr Hopkins lying on the roof of the building, licking one paw and blinking at us. Mather had also noticed the animal, but offered him only a brief scowl of disapproval. I was reminded of the Cheshire Cat from
Alice in Wonderland
, though Mr Hopkins wasn’t grinning. If anything, he looked uncomfortable. I sympathized. We entered the porch, Mather still leading the way, then went straight into the main hall.
‘It’s a rather unusual design for a research centre.’ Mather walked into the middle of the room and stood gazing around. His attention lingered on the floor, as though he were looking for something, then, as I approached, he glanced up again. ‘When I had a look around some years ago, I expected to find a number of rooms, not just one. It’s like an exhibition centre. Though I can’t imagine how they could have expected many visitors.’ My thoughts turned, inevitably, to the pile of bodies below us. ‘Still, it doesn’t really matter now, does it?’
BOOK: The Hand of the Devil
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