The Sand Men (20 page)

I won’t fly off the handle at her
, she told herself.
I have to treat this in exactly the same manner as if it had occurred in London with her school friends.
But at the same time she was furious over the betrayal of her trust.

Her final approach, she later realised, satisfied no-one. ‘Your father will be very disappointed in you,’ she warned, watching Cara as she focussed her concentration on unpacking her bag on the kitchen table.

‘It wasn’t deliberate,’ Cara mumbled. ‘I forgot I still had mine on. I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that. It was dumb.’

‘And what about Norah? She was with you. Had she forgotten too?’

‘We were all trying stuff on.’ The rest of Cara’s answer was lost below sound level.

‘What was that?’

‘I said she isn’t responsible for me. I can look after myself. I made a mistake, that’s all.’

‘What about the boy they kept behind for drinking? Who was he?’

‘Kim’s just some kid who was hanging out with us. He’s in the year below. I hardly know him.’

There was something different about her that Lea couldn’t put her finger on. Despite her shamefacedness, Cara seemed more sure of herself, more adult somehow.

‘Cara, I’m not going to go on about it after tonight, I just want this to be clear between us. You’re younger than most of the kids in your class. The girls have more experience than you. They’ve been here longer, they’re not like the ones you hung out with in London. I’m not sure that Norah and Dean are a good influence.’

‘Dean wasn’t there.’

‘That’s not the point. They know just how much they can get away with, but you have to be more careful. Answer me truthfully. You didn’t steal the chain, did you?

‘No, of course not!’ Cara was indignant.

‘You can’t just think about yourself. If you’d been arrested and charged, imagine what it would have done to your father. You could have put his career at risk.’

‘And what about me?’ Cara turned to her, flushing red. ‘What about my future? You pulled me out of my old school, then after a couple of years you’re going to shift me around again. For what? So that Dad can help build a fucking amusement park for the super-rich! Did you ever think what I had to tell my friends when I left, how humiliating that was?’

‘Go to your room,’ Lea warned. ‘Roy can deal with you when he gets home. I will not be sworn at in my own home.’

‘This isn’t even your house, it goes back to the corporation on the day you leave and a month later some other stooge family will be in here.’ Cara stamped off to her quarters.

What made her so angry was feeling that at some level Cara was right.

Roy was late home, having dealt with the fallout from a narrowly averted strike after new shifts were announced to workers. Lea listened patiently, commenting where she could. She wanted to tell Roy about Cara’s arrest, but was wary of opening up subjects that would not be shut away so easily.

Roy refused dinner, explaining that he’d ordered a takeout earlier, and fell asleep fully dressed on the couch, where it felt kinder to leave him dozing before ancient
CSI
reruns rather than rouse him for bed.

Lea sat in the upstairs window overlooking the deserted street, and read for a while, but she had drunk the best part of a bottle of Vivanco, and could no longer concentrate.

She awoke in her chair with the Persian book in her lap, trying to recall the retreating tendrils of a dream. It scurried away, vanishing beneath the warm streets, behind the artificial hedges. Within it was something dank and malignant, an impassive rock-grey monster. And now that she had found a connection between the accidents, Lea knew it was the enemy she’d have to face.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Desert

E
ARLY THE NEXT
day, Rachel Larvin rose ahead of her sleeping family, dressed in cream shorts, a long-sleeved khaki shirt and hiking boots, and packed her bag.

She took bottles of water, salt tablets, a cold lunch, a swimsuit and a spare shirt, then set off in her son Ben’s luxury BMW 4X4. Once a month she headed out into the hinterlands, just past the Desert Hideaway Hotel, where hawk trainers staged displays for tourists. She usually stopped for a cocktail and a swim in their deserted pool, then drove for a further hour to the edge of the desert.

It was always too hot to leave the vehicle there, but she had discovered an empty spot where there was nothing to see but an undulating horizon of coral sand and the painted aquamarine backdrop of the sky. The sight of it always brought peace, giving her the freedom to contemplate her life. She found the process more therapeutic than going to one of the overpriced coastal spas. She disapproved of having to put a price on what she felt should be the most natural of pleasures.

As a child of wealthy liberals on New York’s Upper East Side, Rachel had always enjoyed the run of the city, and the uniformity of life here subdued her. Ben tried to keep her happy, but as much as she loved her family she sometimes needed to be free of them. And today she needed to think carefully.

She reached the desert hotel at 10:30am and slipped into the still cool empty pool. The clear blue panel of water shattered and refracted as she swam laps, calming itself as she ascended the ladder, anxious to return to stillness. Heading back to the 4X4 in her wet swimsuit, Rachel waited for her anxieties to fade. She would be dry within minutes just by opening the windows and turning off the air-conditioning.

It took her a while to find the slip-road that led to the desert’s blankest quarter, and although part of it was now striated with highways she imagined she might see a prehistoric creature, a Diplodocus perhaps, lumbering over the distant escarpment, searching for the last remaining oasis.

Within a few minutes she hit a section of the route almost obliterated by shifting sand. As soon as she saw the glittering mica sliding across the blacktop she knew she was within reach of her destination, and felt a warm caul of calm descending over her.

For the last few weeks Ben and Colette had been at each other’s throats. The heat outside didn’t help. This year it was proving to be so punishing that a record number of employees’ families had left for cooler climes. Rachel was tired of thinking about the resort and its problems. Lately it had become the only topic of conversation in the household. Colette was affronted by offers of help, so Rachel had learned to keep her counsel. But she feared that Ben might have good reason to be on edge all the time.

She mopped her forehead with a tissue and closed the car window, turning the air-con higher. As she drove on, the amber rock-strewn landscape, as barren as the surface of a distant moon, softened and was subsumed by sand until the contours of the horizon flexed in balletic arabesques.

She found the spot she was seeking. Only locals would have been able to tell it apart from any other quadrant of the desert, but Rachel had memorised the configuration of the land. Tourists rarely came here, because the new highways took more direct routes. Pulling the 4X4 over to the side of the road, she gently eased it onto the packed-gravel pathway leading between dunes until she could no longer see the highway in her rear-view mirror. There was no danger of becoming stuck in the sand, and there was still enough room to reverse and return to the main road when she wanted.

Switching off the engine, she pushed the air-con down to half-level. She needed to think. She had promised herself that by the time she left the desert today, she would have decided what to do. She would talk to Lea at around five and listen to her advice. Then it would be time to make a choice; either ignore her fears or go to the police and risk their derision. The worst part was trying to understand how it could all have gone so wrong. She was frightened; who wouldn’t be? But she was more frightened for the victims.

Looking up through the windscreen, she felt safe beneath the fierce cobalt band of oxygen which protected the earth from limitless darkness. Like ice crystals melting, her thoughts cleared and solutions began to present themselves. She made a mental list of people she could approach, those whom she felt would be sympathetic to her plight. Then she made a second list, consisting of potential enemies who should be avoided at all costs. Gradually, the nagging tension she had felt deep inside her over the last few days began to fade. She closed her eyes, and soon fell into a light sleep.

A clanging noise awoke her with a start. It had sounded like a rock hitting the roof. She was sweating despite the fact that the air-con was still running. Sitting up, she turned it off and listened.

Nothing.

She looked out of the windows. The sun was now at its zenith, somewhere directly above the roof of the car, and there were no shadows. A light wind had picked up and was sifting sand from the phosphorescent peaks of the dunes.

She was sure she had not imagined the noise.

There was a second bang, this time from the rear passenger-side tyre. She could only think, absurdly, that a hawk might have attacked the 4X4 – did they do that?

Her clothes were piled on the back seat, but her swimsuit was dry now, so she decided to get properly dressed. She couldn’t very easily do it in the vehicle, but suppose she got outside and was attacked by a bird?

This is ridiculous
, she thought,
it’s just the heat expanding the metal roof rack. You’re jumpy at everything these days, and you know well enough why.

She slipped out of the driver’s door and stepped onto the hardpack of the road, which stayed cooler than the sand. Immediately the sun stabbed down at her, stinging her bare shoulders. She had a bottle of Factor 50 cream in the boot, and urgently needed to put some on. She had been waiting until she had dried off to apply it.

First, though, she took a quick look at the roof of the car, to see if anything really had landed on it. The 4X4 was so tall that she had to stand on tiptoe. There was nothing. She felt a gush of hot wind at her back, and almost lost her balance. There was another thump of rock. She turned in time to see a plume of sand falling about five metres away. What was doing that?

When she went round to the driver’s door, she found it shut.

She pulled on the handle, but nothing happened.
You have got to be fucking kidding me
, she told herself, trying it again. The car was not self-locking—at least, she didn’t think so. Maybe it had jammed. She felt sure the boot would be open, at least. Moving to the rear of the vehicle, she depressed the catch but nothing happened. None of the doors opened.

The sun was already starting to scald her bare shoulders. She peered in through the driver’s window and saw that the keys were missing from the ignition. It made no sense at all. Did she take them out? It was true that she sometimes forgot what she did, but she had no pockets in her swimsuit, so why would she have done?
Think clearly and carefully
, she told herself, trying not to panic.
Your keys are gone and the car has somehow locked itself. Where’s your cell phone?

With a sinking heart, she looked inside and saw it lying on the passenger seat. There was no sign of the keys anywhere. The vehicle was sealed. There was nothing else for it but to break one of the windows. Ben would be mad at her, but this was an emergency.

She set off to find a rock. Most of the loose ones were made of impacted sand and were not up to the task. She needed one that would prove stronger than the window. Hunting around on the hardscrabble she managed to pull free a sizeable chunk. Gripping it with both hands, she slammed it at the centre of the passenger-side window. The rock cracked and fell apart, crumbling into dry brown pieces.

She searched further afield, and came back with four more. Two broke, and two had no effect on toughened glass. Her pulse was rising fast. She could feel her face and shoulders reddening.

Rachel cursed herself for getting into such a stupid situation. This was how people died. She knew that in a few minutes she would start blistering badly. To be shut outside your own car in just a swimsuit, how dumb was that?

Dropping to her knees, she looked under the vehicle. The road had a high camber that almost touched the 4X4’s bulky undercarriage. Perhaps there was a slim space on the far side of the vehicle near the back tyre. She might be able to shelter at least part of her body from the unforgiving sun, but that was all.

She was not given to panic, but her present state of mind was not conducive to staying calm for long. Pacing around the car in burning bare feet, she was still trying to think of a plan when she heard the sound of an engine starting up. She hopped to the rear of the car and saw a vehicle rolling forward from behind the nearest dune. When she recognised the licence plate she offered up a silent thankful prayer.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Tragedies

‘W
HAT DO YOU
know about vortex shedding?’

Roy rubbed his eyes and checked the time on his bedside alarm clock; 6:10am. ‘Gee, Ben, I’m not awake yet, let me get some coffee first—’ He switched the phone to his other hand and looked back at his sleeping wife.

‘Listen, you know the Compass Towers are designed to sway four metres at their tops in high winds? Well, the swaying causes a wave cycle that emits a regular pulse—’

‘I know that part.’ He sat up and slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Lea.

‘But if the wind matches the tower’s natural bend cycle you get shedding, which is why the sides of the seaward buildings are stepped, to break the synchronisation. And it works, but not on the ground. The wind came up last night, the cycles matched and ripped all the tiling away from the fountains. It’s a real mess.’

‘You’re already there?’

‘Been here since five.’

‘Let me take a shower and I’ll meet you on site.’

‘Nothing you can do here. You could get legal to dig out our contract with the construction team.’

Roy closed his phone and headed for the shower. He glanced back at Lea’s sleeping form and wanted to touch her, but he needed to work.
Best not to wake her,
he thought.