FOUR
Dead Man Walking
I dreamed of a time before I was me. Before there was any Ishmael Jones. I was staggering across a field in the middle of nowhere. Desperate to get away from something that would destroy me if I looked back. It was night and the sky was full of stars, looking down on me like friends I’d left behind. The full moon bathed the scene in a shimmering blue-white glare, watching over me like a single great eye. The whole world seemed fresh and new, but that was just me. Because I’d only just been born and thrust into this world to survive as best I could.
The recently ploughed earth shook and shuddered under my feet. Behind me terrible sounds were abroad in the night, as something huge heaved and rolled, disturbing the earth as it forced its way underground. And despite everything my instincts were screaming at me, I stopped and looked back. To see the massive alien starship burrow deep into the dark earth, hiding its presence from the world.
I couldn’t see the ship clearly. It was too big, too complex, for human eyes to cope with. Or perhaps it took more than eyes to comprehend all it was. The broken earth rose and fell like solid waves as the ship disappeared from sight, plunging down into the depths of the world. Into some dark and secret place no one would ever think to look for it. I turned away and staggered on across the open field. Some inner knowledge told me I needed to get away, get far away, before anyone came looking. I couldn’t afford to be found until I had understood who and what I was now . . .
Things changed suddenly, as they do in dreams. I was somewhere else, in some hotel room, looking at my new face in a mirror. I’d travelled a long way before I got my head together, and I no longer remembered where that field had been. Or the marvellous alien ship that had fallen from the stars like an angel with broken wings, to crash in a field in south-west England. Leaving me as the only surviving member of its crew. Before it disappeared, the ship’s transformation machine had changed me into a human being; altered everything about me, right down to the genetic level. So I could survive on this new world, as a human among humans. Except the mechanism had been damaged in the crash. The change was successful, but it had wiped all my old memories. So I no longer remembered who and what I was before I woke up as me.
I looked into the mirror, at the face the machine had given me. Just an ordinary man, with an ordinary face. Mid-twenties, unremarkable, nothing to make me stand out in a crowd. Then slowly the face faded away, leaving nothing behind. I stared into the dark depths of the empty mirror, and it seemed to me that something else was rising up out of that darkness. Another face, the face I had before I was born. And I knew I really didn’t want to see it; I didn’t want to know what was still hiding inside me.
I sat bolt upright in bed, making harsh incoherent sounds, shaking and shuddering. The guest room at Ringstone Lodge snapped into focus around me as Penny turned on the bedside light. I swallowed hard, my heart racing. While the thing I hadn’t seen slipped steadily, blessedly, back into the depths of my mind. Penny took me in her arms and hugged me to her, fiercely, protectively. Murmuring comforting words and reassuring me with her human presence. My breathing slowed and I stopped shaking. Penny let go and sat back, so she could look searchingly into my eyes.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m back. It’s over.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “You’ve been having that dream on and off for as long as I’ve known you. Is this why you never want me to sleep over?”
“Why should both of us have to suffer?” I said. “It isn’t fair on you to have to see me like this.”
“Like what?” she said gently. “Being human?”
We shared a small smile. I lay back down again, and she snuggled up against me. I put an arm around her shoulders and held her close. We were both naked. Me, because I hadn’t brought any pyjamas; and Penny because she never wore any. She didn’t like the way they crept up on her in the night while she slept and tried to wrap her up like a mummy. Penny rested her head on my chest and murmured reassuring things. I let her. Because I needed to hear them, and because she needed to feel she could help.
“Is it always the same dream?” Penny asked, after a while.
“Pretty much,” I said. “Because it’s not a dream, it’s a memory. Trying to force its way back into my head.”
“How long has this . . . memory been troubling you?”
“Since I first arrived in your world. In 1963.”
“Would it really be so bad if you did remember?” said Penny.
“There’s an old story,” I said. “Of a wise man who woke from a dream of being a butterfly. But then he wondered, was he a man who’d thought he was a butterfly? Or was he a butterfly dreaming he was a man? Penny . . . Sometimes I wonder if I’m just something that dreamed it was a man and loved it. And I am so scared of waking up . . .”
“Hush, hush, darling.” Penny put her fingertips on my mouth to quiet me. “You are Ishmael Jones, because that’s who you chose to be. The man you made yourself into, day by day. Nothing else matters.”
But the nagging fear remained. What if I was not a man? What if I was just a cage for something worse?
We dozed for a while, and then we both sat bolt upright in bed as an alarm bell suddenly started ringing. Loud and strident and urgent. Penny looked at me.
“Does that sound like a fire alarm to you?”
I sniffed at the air. “I’m not getting smoke, or anything burning. The alarm’s coming from downstairs. I think it’s Security throwing a tantrum.”
“Could Parker have escaped?” said Penny. “Or been attacked?”
“Let’s go ask somebody,” I said. “It’s not like either of us is going to get any more sleep.”
We were both quickly out of bed and pulling on the clothes we’d left scattered across the floor on our way to bed. I finished dressing first, because I don’t care what I look like, and shot a quick glance at the two socks to make sure they were still covering the cameras. I unlocked the door, Penny breathing impatiently on my neck, and we hurried out into the corridor. My ears pricked up as I heard something new, underneath the alarm bells.
“What are you hearing, space boy?” said Penny.
“People shouting and running about downstairs,” I said. “Mr. MacKay sounds very upset about something.”
Doctor Hayley and Doctor Doyle emerged from the room next to ours. Bleary-eyed and confused, they looked like they’d got dressed in a hurry as well. Hayley fixed me with a cold glare, as if getting ready to accuse me of being responsible for the commotion.
“What is it?” she said loudly. “What’s happening? Has something happened?”
“An alarm bell is ringing,” I said. “Now you know everything I do. Happy?”
“Damn it, Jones . . .”
“You don’t look happy . . .”
“Ishmael,” said Penny. “Look at the time. It’s later than you think.”
“Story of my life,” I said.
“No, really!”
She held up her wristwatch. I looked at it, and then at mine. It was more than two hours since we’d retired to our room.
“MacKay said he’d call us down for dinner in an hour,” I said. “Why didn’t he call us?”
“Ah,” said Doyle. “That’s our fault, I’m afraid. Sorry.”
Hayley shut him up with a look, and then nodded to me grudgingly. “I gave orders for dinner to be postponed. I decided it was vital Doctor Doyle and I talk with Parker again. If only to undo whatever harm you might have done. So I told MacKay to hold off dinner until we returned. But by the time we were done, we were both so tired . . .”
“All we could think of was getting our heads down,” said Doyle.
“For a nap,” said Hayley.
“Of course,” said Penny.
“Did you get anything out of Parker this time?” I said.
“Nothing useful,” said Doyle.
“We’re wearing him down,” said Hayley.
“Are we?” said Doyle. “Feels a lot more like he’s wearing us down.”
“I think we need to make sure we still have a prisoner to interrogate,” I said. “Alarm bells are often associated with prison breakouts.”
“Oh, shit!” said Hayley.
“Well, quite,” said Penny. “Now if we’ve all finished quizzing each other, could we perhaps get a move on?”
“You are of course entirely right,” I said.
“Damn right!” said Penny.
I led the way, moving at some speed because no one ever sounds an alarm bell to tell you good things. Either someone had got in or someone had got out . . . Or something had happened to the most valuable man in Ringstone Lodge. Penny strode along beside me, matching me stride for stride, grinning broadly. She loved a mystery and was always happiest when she was actually doing something. Hayley and Doyle hurried along behind us, determined not to be left out of anything. When we finally got to the bottom of the stairs, the first thing we encountered in the entrance hall was MacKay yelling at Baxter and Redd.
“I want the whole Lodge searched! Every room, every corridor, every nook and cranny! Kick in doors, look under beds, and tear down the shower curtains. And when you’ve done all of that, I want a full sweep of the grounds and the perimeter. Why are you still standing here? Go!”
MacKay was in full Regimental Sergeant Major mode, so the two big security men just nodded quickly and hurried off. I said MacKay’s name loudly, to make myself heard over the alarm bells, and he swung round scowling fiercely. He started to say something and then broke off. He tilted his head back and raised his voice.
“Mr. Martin! Turn that damned alarm off! I can’t hear myself think.”
Martin must have been listening from his security centre, because the alarm bell shut down immediately. The sudden silence was a relief.
“Why the electronic hysteria, Mr. MacKay?” I said. “What’s the emergency?”
“Has Parker escaped from his cell?” said Penny. “Or has someone broken into the Lodge?”
I looked at her reproachfully. “I was about to ask that.”
“Keep up or get left behind,” Penny said ruthlessly. “Well, Mr. MacKay?”
“Frank Parker is dead,” MacKay said flatly. “Murdered.”
Hayley and Doyle made soft shocked noises and looked at each other with wide eyes, like frightened children.
“Now we’ll never know what he might have told us . . .” said Hayley.
“How was he killed?” I asked.
“Stabbed, in his cell,” said MacKay. “Even though it was never unlocked.”
“Really?” said Penny.
“How is that possible?” I said.
“I don’t know!” said MacKay. “It should not have been possible for anyone to get anywhere near Mr. Parker, let alone murder him inside a cell that couldn’t be opened!” He shook his head, suddenly seeming tired and dazed. “Nothing has made sense since that man got here . . .”
“Could it have been suicide?” Penny said tentatively.
“What? No . . . I don’t think so, miss,” said MacKay.
“Could someone have been trying to help him escape?” I said.
MacKay shook his head again, more firmly. “Whoever got in came here to kill him.”
“But the cell was never unlocked?” I said.
“No,” said MacKay. “Mr. Martin was most firm about that.”
“Could he have been stabbed through the bars?” said Penny.
“That doesn’t seem likely, miss.” MacKay took a long, slow breath to calm himself. And just like that, his moment of near-panic was over and he was the professional old soldier again. “When I went down to the cell I found Mr. Parker lying on his bed, on his back, some distance from the bars. Looking quite peaceful. Apart from the knife sticking out of his chest. There was no sign of any struggle. I believe he may have been stabbed while he was sleeping.”
“But that would have to mean someone got inside the cell,” I said.
“I have already conferred on this with Mr. Martin,” MacKay said steadily. “He was most emphatic. The cell can only be unlocked from his security centre; and every time the bars open, the event is logged and recorded by his computers. Mr. Martin swears no one has been inside that cell since Doctor Hayley and Doctor Doyle finished their last conversation with Parker, over an hour ago. And besides, no one could reach the cell without being detected by the cameras and motion sensors that line the whole length of the basement corridor.”
“I’m trusting those computers less and less,” I said. “It seems more and more likely they’ve been interfered with.”
“Mr. Martin says not,” said MacKay. “And he was very firm about it.”
“There’s no way anyone could avoid the cameras?” said Penny. “With inside information, perhaps?”
“I don’t believe so, miss,” said MacKay. “We need to talk to Mr. Martin. If any of the computer systems have malfunctioned, he will know.”
“Lead the way,” I said. “I’m just dying to talk to Mr. Martin.”
“You go on without us,” said Hayley. She’d been quiet for some time, concentrating on Doyle, whose eyes were worryingly vague and confused. “I’m taking Robbie back to the lounge. He needs to sit down and gather his thoughts.”
“Fine,” I said. “But stay in the lounge. I mean it! Don’t make me have to come looking for you.”
Hayley sniffed defiantly and led Doyle away. He went with her like a bewildered child.
The heavy steel door to the security centre was closed and locked. Penny and I stood back as MacKay announced us via the comm grille by the door. He waited, then hammered on the door with his fist and yelled into the grille again. The door finally opened, and we all filed in. Martin swivelled round on his squeaky chair to face us, grimacing apologetically.
“Sorry for the wait while I checked you out. I’m not feeling too trusting at the moment.”
“Same here,” I said. “Why didn’t you see Frank Parker being killed?”
“Because I wasn’t here,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “I was sleeping in the room next door. I didn’t want to leave my post, but I had to. I was nodding off in my chair. Do you know how long I’ve been on duty? Tell him, MacKay. Ever since Frank Parker arrived!” He caught the look on MacKay’s face and calmed down a little. “I was promised backup so I could get some rest.”
“He’s on his way,” said MacKay.
“I had to get some sleep,” Martin said sulkily. “I have a cot set up in the next room, for emergencies. So I’m only ever a few minutes away from the centre. Everything should have been fine. All the systems were running on automatic, and I locked the door before I left. No one could get in or interfere with any of the systems without setting off a whole bunch of alarms.”
“What did trigger the alarm, in the end?” said Penny.
“I’ll show you,” said Martin. “But I don’t want anyone saying it’s my fault! None of this is my fault.”
“Get on with it,” said MacKay.
Martin fast-forwarded through a bunch of recordings on his screens, to prove no one had approached the Lodge through the grounds or entered the Lodge without being noticed. Then he switched to a screen showing Parker in his cell. He was lying on his bed, perfectly at ease, ankles casually crossed. Staring up at the ceiling, apparently entirely unconcerned by his situation. Perhaps because he thought he was safe in his cell.
And then all the screens went blank.
“Mr. Martin!” said MacKay.
“The cameras just shut down!” said Martin. “All of them! Which isn’t supposed to be possible. All right, I suppose you could go round the Lodge smashing them with a hammer, but I’d notice that. No, every camera inside the Lodge shut down simultaneously, for a good ten minutes.” He gestured at Parker’s screen. “When I could see again . . .”
The screen showed Parker lying on his bed. His position hadn’t changed, but now there was a knife buried hilt-deep in his chest. His eyes still stared up at the ceiling, but they weren’t seeing anything.
“That’s what set off the alarm,” said Martin. “The cameras going down and coming back on again.”
“Someone must have hacked into your computers,” said Penny.
“Not past my firewalls,” Martin said firmly. “And yes, before you ask, I’m already running full scans on all my systems. It’ll take some time, but I can tell you right now no one got to them!”
“The cell was still locked?” I said.
“Yes!” said Martin. “You could crash this whole room and that cell would still remain locked. Built-in security measure.”
“Could you force it open manually?” I said.
“If you had time and the right tools, probably,” said Martin. “But that didn’t happen.”
“What did you do after you returned to the centre?” said MacKay.
“The moment I realized Parker was dead, I checked every room in the Lodge on my screens,” said Martin. “But there was no sign of any intruder, anywhere.”
“How could anyone have got to Parker?” I said. “How could he be killed inside a locked room no one could enter?”
“I don’t know!” said Martin. “Maybe the ghosts did it.”
“Not funny, Mr. Martin,” said MacKay.
“Wasn’t meant to be,” Martin muttered. He sounded more confused than defiant. He swivelled back and forth in his chair, ignoring the noises it made, looking from one screen to another as if half expecting an answer to present itself. When that didn’t happen, he reluctantly looked back at MacKay.
“We’re in deep shit, aren’t we? The Organization will have all our heads for this.”
“Not if we solve the mystery ourselves,” I said. “Luckily for you, I’m pretty good at that. Mr. MacKay, what have you been doing for the last few hours? Instead of making dinner, as you promised?”
“I was overruled on that by Doctor Hayley,” MacKay said steadily. “While everyone was resting, I patrolled the Lodge, as is my custom of an evening. Checking all the doors are locked and the windows are all secure. I saw nothing out of place and heard nothing unusual.”
“Where were Baxter and Redd?” I said.
“Outside, most of the time,” said MacKay. “I did question them, and they were both adamant they saw no sign of intruders in the grounds.”
“That’s where they were, all right,” Martin said quickly. “I had them on my screens. And MacKay. Everyone was where they were supposed to be.”
“Except you,” I said. “How long were you gone?”
“It was just a quick break,” said Martin. “Maybe . . . three quarters of an hour.”
“Long enough,” I said.
“The computers monitor everything,” Martin said stubbornly.
“Not this time, they didn’t,” I said. I turned to MacKay. “Where were you, exactly, when the alarm started?”
“In the kitchen, at the back of the Lodge,” said MacKay. “Mr. Baxter and Mr. Redd had only just come back inside. It was getting cold, and they needed a break. I sent them to the lounge and said I would bring them some hot coffee. I was busying myself in the kitchen when the alarm sounded. I ran back here and found the door to the security centre was open. On entering, I discovered Mr. Martin staring at a screen showing the prisoner dead in his cell. I immediately went down to the basement and checked on Mr. Parker’s condition. I came back up, yelled for Mr. Baxter and Mr. Redd, and sent them off to check for intruders. Then you arrived.”
“Did you go inside the cell to check on Parker?” I said.
“No, sir. I thought it important to preserve the crime scene. I did check the bars, to make sure they hadn’t been tampered with.”
“So you can’t confirm Parker is definitely dead?” I said.
“He has a knife sticking out of his chest!” said Martin.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” I said. “In our line of work.”
“I was a professional soldier for many years,” MacKay said flatly. “I believe I know a dead man when I see one.”
“Even so . . .” I said. “I need to see the body for myself. Show me, MacKay.” I looked at Martin. “You stay here.”
“Damn right!” said Martin. “I’m not being caught out again.”
“I’m coming too!” said Penny.
“Are you sure?” I said.
“I’ve seen my share of dead bodies,” said Penny. “Remember?”
“Of course you have,” I said. “All right, come along. But watch where you step, I don’t want any clues trampled on.”
“I will trample on your soft and delicate bits if you patronize me again,” said Penny.
I looked at MacKay. “It’s true. She would.”
I studied the backstairs carefully as we went down, but I couldn’t see any footprints or physical evidence. But once we reached the basement corridor and approached Parker’s cell, the smell of blood came clearly to me. And underneath that, other smells associated with sudden death. We finally stopped before the cell bars and looked at the body. Parker was dead. No question of it.
“Not much blood,” I said, “for a chest wound.”
“The knife will be holding most of it in,” said MacKay.
I looked to Penny. “You all right?”
“After everything I saw at Belcourt Manor, a knife in the chest is nothing,” Penny said steadily. She looked at MacKay. “There’s no way the killer could have reached him through the bars. He must have gone in. And since Parker was stabbed from the front, either he was attacked in his sleep . . . or he knew his killer and believed he had no reason to fear him.”
“Let’s hope it’s that straightforward,” I said. I gave the steel bars a good rattle, but they didn’t budge. I nodded to MacKay. “Open it up.”
MacKay started to say something, and then stopped as the bars slid smoothly to one side. Martin was listening. I stepped inside the cell, and then looked back as MacKay and Penny started to follow me in.
“Not just now,” I said.
Penny looked like she wanted to argue, but didn’t. MacKay just nodded. I leaned over the body lying on the bed and studied it carefully. Parker had been stabbed once. No defence wounds on the hands or arms, suggesting no struggle. But I didn’t think he’d been asleep when it happened. He was laid out too neatly on his bed. No matter how sudden the attack, you’d expect some thrashing around. And besides, all field agents learn to sleep lightly. Parker would have heard the cell opening. No, he knew his attacker and let him get close . . . And afterwards the killer took time to arrange the body. Which might turn out to be significant, or might not. Killers follow their own logic.
I got down on my knees and studied the floor carefully. Moving slowly around the cell a few feet at a time, checking everything. I couldn’t see a single footprint anywhere, which suggested the killer had cleaned up after himself. This had been no impulsive killing, no moment of madness or passion. Someone had planned Parker’s death down to the last detail. I leaned forward and sniffed the floor, but I couldn’t detect any trace of soap or bleach.
When I was finished with the floor, I got to my feet and examined every surface close up. If I concentrate, I am able to see fingerprints. A talent I prefer to keep to myself. I did tell Penny once and she asked if I could see DNA traces . . . I almost said something very rude. I may be an alien visitor from another world, but I’m not Superman.
No fingerprints and no blood drops, which meant the knife had plunged into Parker’s chest once and then stayed there. I studied the knife hilt. Nothing special about it; not military issue, or special forces. Would probably turn out to have come from the kitchen . . . Where MacKay said he was when the murder took place. A kitchen knife would seem to indicate the killer was one of us in the Lodge, because an outside killer would have brought a weapon with him. But why a knife? Rather than strangling or a blow from a blunt instrument? A knife suggested anger and a personal grievance. Someone who needed to see the knife going in. However, a knife also suggested control. Because beating Parker to death might have been even more satisfying to someone who hated him, though far more messy. The killer would have been bound to get blood on him and on his surroundings.
So this was a carefully planned murder, by someone in the Lodge . . . Unless that was what the killer wanted us to think. Unless everything here had been carefully staged, by a professional, to make it look like an inside job.
I looked Parker’s body over carefully. I didn’t bother to check his pockets. Security would have emptied them before he was put in the cell. I was more interested in the clothes; but the killer hadn’t left any trace on them. Nothing I could see or smell. Up close, all the changes Parker had made to his face leapt out at me, reminding me there was always the chance this wasn’t Parker. Could he perhaps have been killed because Hayley and Doyle were getting too close to the truth, and discovering this wasn’t Parker after all? I finally straightened up again and sighed heavily.
There was nothing in the cell or on the body to help me understand who had killed Parker, or why. I’d have to wait for someone to send in a forensics team with the proper equipment. See if they could find something I’d missed.
The only thing I could be sure of was that whatever Parker knew, whatever information he hoped to trade, it must have been really important. Something worth going to all this trouble to silence him. Because whoever did this had to have been a professional.
I’d barely stepped back into the corridor before Martin locked the cell again from his security room. MacKay and Penny looked at me expectantly, but I just shook my head. I had nothing to say, for the moment. I was thinking. I headed back to the stairs, and Penny and MacKay followed after me. I didn’t need to look back to know they were exchanging glances.
There was no sign of Baxter and Redd in the entrance hall, so I went to the lounge. Where Hayley was doing her best to comfort an almost hysterical Doyle. He was sitting right on the edge of the sofa, rocking back and forth, wringing his hands. Hayley sat beside him, patting his arm and talking brightly. He didn’t seem to hear her. Neither of them so much as glanced up as we entered the lounge.
“Our careers are over!” Doyle said tearfully. “We’re ruined! Getting answers out of Parker would have made our reputations, but this . . . Why did the bastard have to go and die on us? What are we going to do?”
“Hush, Robbie,” said Hayley. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“No, it isn’t!” said Doyle. “They’ll blame us for this, you know they will.”
Hayley shot a glare at me. “I won’t let that happen.”
“What’s wrong with him?” said Penny. “Mister Big Tough Interrogator.”
“He’s in shock,” Hayley said shortly. “We’ve never had a patient die on us before.”
Penny raised an eyebrow. “He’s a patient now, not a prisoner!”
“It was our job to keep him alive,” said Hayley. “He’s no use to any of us dead.”
Baxter and Redd finally showed up to join us. MacKay gave them both a hard look, and they shook their heads quickly.
“The grounds are clear, and the Lodge is empty apart from us,” said Redd. “Nothing to suggest anyone got in.”
Baxter took in the state of the two doctors, sniffed loudly and, ignoring Penny and me, addressed himself directly to MacKay. “This place is a fortress. Which means the murder has to be an inside job. Someone in this room is the killer.”
“I notice you’re glowering at me in particular,” I said.
“Everything was fine here until you turned up!” said Baxter.
“Yes . . .” I said. “I noticed that too. Maybe someone decided Parker needed to be silenced before he could open up to me.”
“What makes you think he’d talk to you, rather than us?” said Hayley.
“Because I’ve walked in his shoes,” I said.
MacKay raised his voice. “Mr. Martin, put the Lodge on full lockdown. Do it now!”
The whole house shook to the sounds of straining machinery, as heavy steel shutters ratcheted down to cover all the windows and the outer doors locked themselves. Doyle chuckled suddenly. A lost, joyless sound.
“Like nails being hammered into a coffin lid. Burying us alive . . .”
“Somebody shut him up,” said Baxter.
The last shutter slammed into place, the machinery ground to a halt, and suddenly it was extremely quiet. We all looked at each other.
“I certainly feel so much safer now,” I said. “Locked in here with an unknown killer. Who may or may not have unfinished business.”
Baxter scowled at MacKay. “You should have given us some warning!”
“Why?” said MacKay. “So you could leave? I don’t think so. You said it yourself, Mr. Baxter. This had to have been an inside job. Therefore all of us are suspects.”
“Does this situation remind you of anything, Ishmael?” said Penny.
“Yes,” I said. “Let’s hope for a better outcome this time.”
“What’s he talking about?” said Redd.
“Belcourt Manor,” said Hayley. “One of his cases. A massacre.”
“Another group of suspects, trapped together in one place,” I said. “I caught the murderer eventually, but not before they killed everyone except Penny and me. Not one of my finest hours.”
“Stop it!” Penny said firmly. “You did all you could. More than anyone else could have managed against that monster.”
“We’re locked in for the night,” said Doyle, in the same sad, lost voice. “Rats in a trap. We’re all going to die.”
Hayley was already pouring him a large brandy from the cut-glass decanter on the coffee table. It didn’t look like Doyle’s first. She forced the glass into his hand and made him drink some.
“Mr. Martin!” MacKay said loudly. “A message should have gone out automatically once we entered lockdown, but just to be on the safe side contact Headquarters yourself. Make sure they know what’s happening here.”
“Isn’t that a bit like bolting the stable door after the horse has been stabbed?” said Penny.
“No,” I said. “We need backup here as soon as possible. Before our killer finds a way out.”
“Not possible,” said MacKay. “Not while lockdown is in place.”
“He’s already managed several impossible things,” I said.
“I thought that was your line of business,” said Hayley.
“How could anyone kill Parker, not be seen, and not leave any trace behind?” said Penny. “It’s just not possible!”
“Unless it was the ghosties,” said MacKay. He only half sounded like he was joking. And from the way the others were looking, I had to wonder if they preferred that idea to one of them being the killer.
“I think we could all use something to eat and drink,” I said. “Help settle our nerves.”
“The kitchen is open,” said MacKay. “I will prepare something.” He raised his voice. “You too, Mr. Martin. This is no time for anyone to be on their own.”
“I’m not leaving the security centre!” said Martin. His voice didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular. It was just suddenly there in the room, with us. I looked around, but couldn’t see a hidden speaker anywhere. And I’m usually pretty good at spotting such things.
“You’ll be much safer with us, you miserable specimen,” said MacKay.
“I’m not going anywhere while my computer scans are still running,” said Martin. “And I’m perfectly safe where I am, behind this solid-steel door. No one’s going to get to me without using heavy-duty explosives or a bazooka. And I think I’d spot that on my cameras.”
“Then stay where you are,” I said. “When I want you, I’ll come and get you.”
Penny leaned in close, to murmur in my ear. “I knew he could hear everything, but I didn’t know he could talk to us as well.”
“I get the feeling there’s a lot he can do that he doesn’t like to reveal.”
“Who do you think is the killer?” said Penny.
“Not me,” I said. “And probably not you.”
“Well,” said Penny. “That’s a start.”
We hurried through the empty corridors of the Lodge with MacKay leading the way. We all stuck close together, like sheep who’d just been alerted to the presence of a wolf. Baxter and Redd kept a watchful eye on every door we approached, braced for any sudden appearance, but they hadn’t drawn their guns yet. I wondered why.
“Why haven’t you drawn your guns?” I said.
“Because we’re professionals,” said Baxter, not even glancing in my direction. “We don’t go blasting off at every shadow.”
“And because we’re short on ammunition,” said Redd. “All we have is what’s in our guns at the moment. No reloads. I wouldn’t want to waste a bullet on something that wasn’t worthy of it.”
“They are also under my orders not to use their weapons unless they absolutely have to,” said MacKay. “Ringstone Lodge is a listed building, with a great many important and expensive antiques.”
“Really?” said Hayley. “Protecting our lives isn’t considered as important as protecting the fixtures and fittings? To hell with that! You go ahead and fire at anything you like, boys. They can bill me.”
“I haven’t seen anything worth shooting at yet,” said Redd. “How about you, Bax?”
“Not a damned thing,” said Baxter. “How about you, Mister Big Secret Agent Man?”
“We’re safe enough for the moment,” I said. “There’s no one else on the ground floor.”
MacKay glanced back at me. “How can you be sure?”
“Because that’s my job,” I said.
Baxter rolled his eyes, and Redd looked like he wanted to. Penny dropped me a wink.
Hayley looked worriedly at Doyle, whose gaze seemed further away than ever.
“How much farther to the kitchen?” she said.
“Almost there, Doctor Hayley,” said MacKay.
The kitchen turned out to be a small but spotlessly clean affair on the far side of the Lodge. MacKay bustled around, organizing hot coffee and sandwiches for all and making a cheerful clatter. He seemed relieved now he had something practical to do. Everyone grabbed chairs and settled down around the single long table. Fortunately there were enough chairs to go round. Because no one wanted to go off on their own to find an extra one, if only because they didn’t want everyone else talking about them while they were gone. Baxter and Redd sat together; and Hayley sat with Doyle, who was still holding on to his empty brandy glass. Penny sat with me. And for a while we all just sat and looked at each other, thinking our own thoughts, trying to spot a murderer in a familiar face.
Baxter was scowling so hard he was probably hurting his forehead. Redd sat stiffly with his arms folded, hard to read as always. Doyle had an almost fey look to him, as though all the things he’d thought he could depend on to make his world make sense had been taken away. Hayley studied us all carefully, trying to crack open our facades with her professionally trained mind. Penny just looked terribly interested in everyone. She was probably the only one there who didn’t feel threatened. Partly because she trusted me to protect her; but mainly because after the slaughter she’d witnessed at Belcourt Manor it would take a lot more than a dead man in a locked room to throw her.
MacKay finally set three plates of roughly cut sandwiches down on the table before us. He stepped back and looked at us expectantly, but nobody made a move.
“What more do you want me to do?” said MacKay. “Cut off the crusts for you? Get stuck in, there’s a fine selection. I even managed a few vegetarian ones for you, Mr. Redd.”
“Not really hungry, right now,” said Redd. “But thanks for remembering.”
There were a few murmurs from around the table, indicating that no one had much of an appetite. I shrugged and grabbed the nearest sandwich. MacKay nodded to me approvingly.
“Every good soldier knows it’s wisest to eat when you can, because it might be some time before you get another chance.”
“I thought that was sleep,” I said.
“That too,” said MacKay.
He took a sandwich and sat down at the end of the table, so he could watch all of us at once; giving the impression of a man who had done all that could reasonably be asked of him, and it would be a brave soul who asked for anything more.
Penny watched me eating. “Any good?”
“Not bad. You want a bit?”
“Really not hungry, just at the moment.” Penny wrinkled her nose. “How can you eat, at a time like this?”
“You heard the old soldier. Got to keep the energy levels up when you’re chasing the bad guys.”
“You’re just sitting there?”
“My thoughts are racing.”
“You’re a field agent,” Hayley said to me, thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re used to sudden death.”
“It’s part of the job,” I said. “Coping with it and causing it.”
“Do you want to go down to the cell and examine Parker’s body, Doctor Hayley?” said Penny.
“No,” said Hayley. “Robbie and I aren’t used to bodies. I never saw a dead man before.”
“I thought you were both doctors?” said Penny.
“Of the mind, not the body,” said Hayley. “We’re both academics. Robbie was perfectly happy in his ivory tower until I met him and dragged him out into the real world. Perhaps I should have left him there. He’s not made for situations like this.”
Doyle raised the brandy glass to his mouth and, finding it was empty, put it down again. He didn’t seem to know what to do with the glass, so Hayley took it away from him and poured out some coffee from the pot MacKay had prepared. She put the cup in front of Doyle, but he didn’t even look at it.
“What are we going to do?” he said plaintively.
“I’ll think of something,” said Hayley. “You know me, Robbie. I always think of something. Now drink your nice coffee.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Drink it anyway.”
“Don’t shout at me!”
“Sorry! I’m sorry, Robbie. It’s just . . .”
“I want to go home,” said Doyle.
“So do I,” said Hayley. She looked round the table. “It’s just shock. We’ll both be fine. In a while.”
Baxter and Redd looked like they might be ready to say something about that, but MacKay shut them up with a look. Then he turned his attention to me.
“I was given to understand,” he said steadily, “that Mr. Parker was unkillable. And yet he died so easily . . .”
“Just goes to show,” I said. “You don’t want to believe everything you hear about field agents.”
“Even though there are all kinds of strange stories,” Hayley said pointedly, “about the kind of people it takes to go out into the darker places in the world and wrestle with monsters?”
“Right,” said Redd, fixing me with a cold contemplative gaze. “I’ve heard stories about the mysterious and enigmatic Ishmael Jones. I can’t believe half of the things you’re supposed to have done.”
“Then don’t,” I said. “You’ll sleep better that way.”
“You’d have to be more than human to do everything I’ve heard,” said Redd. “So what are you, really?”
“Very good at my job,” I said.
“But will you be able to identify the murderer?” said MacKay.
“Eventually,” I said. “It’s what I do.”
“Don’t think you’re going to pin any of this on me!” Baxter said loudly. “Nothing that’s happened here has been my fault.”
“But it was your job to protect Parker,” I said, in my most infuriatingly reasonable tone. “To keep him safe, from all his many enemies.”
“Our job was to protect the Lodge from outside attack,” said Baxter, leaning forward aggressively. “This was an inside job.”
“Had to be,” said Redd. “Inside information, all the way. Our killer knew where to find the victim, and how to avoid the surveillance. Which means it has to be one of us. Sitting right here at this table.”
“Why would any of us want to kill him?” said Hayley.
“Perhaps someone here knew him from before,” said MacKay. “Someone with a grudge.”
“More likely one of us is in the pay of the opposition,” I said.
“Who are the opposition?” said Penny, trying to keep up.
“Right now, any of the people Parker used to work for,” I said. “He must have known something that someone couldn’t afford us to know. Unless . . . the killer is working for one of the traitors inside the Organization, who’s desperate to keep his identity from being revealed.”
“Either way, it’s still not my fault,” said Baxter. “Or Redd’s.”
“Thanks for remembering me,” said Redd. “Now cool it, Bax. No one’s pointing the finger at either of us.”
“He is,” said Baxter, settling reluctantly back in his chair. “Mister High-and-Mighty Field Agent.”
“I’m not blaming anyone just yet,” I said. “We’re all under suspicion simply because we’re here.”
“And all of you are outsiders,” MacKay said slowly. “Only Mr. Martin and I are regular Ministry of Defence personnel assigned to the Lodge. Everyone else was brought in specially, just for this operation.”
“So only you and Martin could really be capable of an inside job,” said Redd. “Because only you know the layout and workings of the Lodge well enough.”
“All the other Lodge personnel are in the wind at the moment,” I said. “The opposition could have got to any of them and forced or bribed the necessary information out of them. The first rule of any professional agent is to muddy the waters and confuse the situation. To distract the inquiring gaze away from what’s really going on. Just because this looks like an inside job, doesn’t necessarily mean it is.”
“So there could still be an intruder at large somewhere in the Lodge?” said Penny. “Just waiting for a chance to kill us all, one by one?”
“There is no one else in the Lodge,” Martin’s voice said loudly. “If there was, I’d be seeing them on my screens.”
“Good to know you’re still with us,” I said. “Can you speak to us from any room in the Lodge?”
“Pretty much,” said Martin. “Why?”
“Just thinking,” I said.
“About what?” said Baxter.
“Motive,” I said. “I believe this murder was personal. That Parker was killed for who he was, not what he was doing here.”
“If it really was Parker,” said Hayley.
“Of course,” I said.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Penny. “If we can’t be sure Parker was Parker, how can we be sure anyone here is who they say they are? I mean we’re all strangers to each other, only brought together for this particular mission. We’ve just been taking it for granted that all of us are who we claim to be.”
I nodded slowly. “Normally there’d be a briefing file, with names and photos. But this was all put together in such a hurry . . .”
I could see suspicions growing in everyone’s faces. No one actually pushed their chair back from the table to put more room between them and everyone else, but they all looked like they wanted to.
“I’ve known Bax for years,” said Redd. “I can vouch for him. And he can vouch for me.”
“But who vouches for the two of you?” Penny said sweetly. “How long have you been working at the Lodge?”
“Not long,” said Redd. “We were called in at the last moment, to provide special security for Parker.”
“Did you check their IDs when they arrived?” I asked MacKay.
“Of course,” he said. “And confirmed their arrival with Headquarters.”
“But IDs can be faked,” said Penny.
“How do we know that’s really MacKay?” Baxter said craftily.
“I have worked here for three years,” MacKay said coldly.
“MacKay has,” I said. “But how do we know you’re him?”
I turned away from him to look steadily at Hayley and Doyle. “The Colonel told me to expect two new interrogators at Ringstone Lodge, but he never mentioned any names.”
“Robbie and I have all the proper accreditation papers,” Hayley said coldly.
“Papers mean nothing,” I said. “I’ve lost count of the number of false identities I’ve used. And it’s always possible that you could have ambushed the real Hayley and Doyle on the way here, killed them and taken their place.”
“But . . . we didn’t!” said Hayley, her voice rising. “This isn’t fair! How are we supposed to prove we didn’t do something?”
“You can’t,” I said. “See? Isn’t this fun? Paranoia, a game the whole family can play.”
“I can vouch for MacKay,” said Martin, his voice coming out of nowhere again. “We’re both on record as part of the Ringstone Lodge staff.”
“Ah yes,” I said. “The man whose cameras can’t be trusted. Whose records can therefore no longer be relied on.”
“I’m the only one you can rely on,” said Martin. “Because I’m the one who sees and hears everything. Mostly because there’s nothing else to do except sit and watch and listen.”
“What about our right to privacy?” said Penny.
“What about your right to survival?” said Martin. “It’s not like I care what any of you get up to. You’d be surprised how fast voyeurism can become boring when it’s all you do, day in and day out. I’m with you all the time because somebody has to be. Your very own guardian angel.”
“Except when you’re sleeping,” I said.
“Sleep,” Martin said wistfully. “I dream of sleep.”
“We must wait for the reinforcements to arrive,” said MacKay. “They can sort out who we really are.”
“If we’re alive when they get here,” I said.
“Why shouldn’t we be?” said MacKay. “Lockdown is in place, none of us are going anywhere.”
“I’m more concerned about what happens when the SAS turn up,” said Redd. “What if they decide to shoot everyone just to be on the safe side?”
“Those gentlemen do have a reputation for being very thorough,” said MacKay. “But standard procedure after a lockdown means they will bring a full investigatory team with them. And they will get to the bottom of things.”
“Being the suspicious soul that I am,” I said, “can I just check something? You have had a response to your emergency alert? You are sure Headquarters knows what’s going on here? The urgency of the situation?”
“Mr. Martin?” said MacKay, addressing the ceiling.
“Yes, I have received an acknowledgement,” Martin said coldly. “I’d have said so, otherwise. Reinforcements will be here inside an hour. We can hold out that long, can’t we?”
“It occurs to me,” said Redd, “that if one of us is the killer, whoever it is can’t afford to be here when the SAS arrive.”
“We’re locked in,” said Baxter. “Remember?”
“But if he kills the rest of us,” said Redd, “then all he has to do is go to the security centre and raise lockdown from there. That’s where the controls are. Right?”
I looked at MacKay. “Well? Is he right?”
“Yes,” said MacKay, reluctantly. “Lockdown can be raised from the security centre. If they know the correct codes.”
“They’ve known everything else they needed to know,” said Penny.
No one else had anything to say. Everyone was thinking hard. Including Baxter, who looked like he was finding it a bit hard going. Even Doyle emerged from under his cloud, for the moment.
“So we can get out?” he said slowly. Picking on the only thing that mattered to him. “We can leave, if we have to?”
“Hush, dear,” said Hayley. “None of us are going anywhere.”
“But we could get out,” Doyle insisted. “We don’t have to stay in this terrible place, locked up with a killer. I think we should all leave right now. It’s not safe here, for any of us.”
“Where would we go, Doctor Doyle?” MacKay said patiently. “We could drive to the railway station, but there are no trains running at this hour. Do you really think we would be any safer standing around on a deserted platform all night? We could try for the nearest town, but it is many miles away. And anyone could be lying in wait along those deserted roads.”
“The killer could have planted explosives in our one and only car,” I said, not wanting to be left out of the general gloom and doom. “To take us all out if we tried to leave. It’s what I would have done. And anyway, you’re all missing the point.”
“What point?” said Baxter.
“None of you are going anywhere,” I said, “Because I won’t allow it. You are all suspects, and it’s my job to see that potential suspects don’t just disappear into the night from a crime scene.”
There was a long pause as they all looked at me.
“You really think you can keep us here?” Baxter said truculently.
“Yes,” I said. “Don’t you?”
“Brave words,” said Redd. “From a man without a gun, to two men with guns.”
“You really think that makes a difference?” I said.
“Oh for God’s sake!” said Penny. “Just whip them out and measure them. Slap them down on the table so we can all have a good look. Men! The sooner scientists come up with a viable alternative the better.”
Hayley surprised me with a brief snort of laughter. MacKay looked quietly pained. Baxter and Redd glanced at each other, then sat back in their chairs with their arms folded stubbornly.
I looked at Penny. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe not,” said Penny, “but they do.”
“We need to do this by the book,” I said. “We can’t prove or disprove who we are, so let’s stick to the simple things. Starting with alibis. Where were we all when Parker experienced stabbing pains in the chest?”
“Bax and I were together all the time,” Redd said firmly.
“Well of course you’d vouch for each other,” said Hayley. “How do we know you’re not working together?”
“How do we know you and Doyle aren’t?” said Redd. “And Jones will swear he was with his girl. So much for alibis.”
“His girl?” said Penny, dangerously.
“I was alone,” said MacKay. “But I was in full view of the Lodge cameras at all times, as I am sure Mr. Martin can attest.”
“Damn right!” said Martin. “If attest means what I think it means.”
“We were all inside the Lodge when Parker was murdered,” I said. “With the cameras offline for a good ten minutes, that’s more than enough time for any of us to get down to the cell, do the deed, and get back again.”
“I don’t like this,” said Doyle. “Not trusting each other. What if this is what the killer wants, to turn us against each other?”
“Welcome back, Doctor Doyle,” I said. “That was surprisingly lucid. Are you feeling better now?”
He smiled weakly. “As well as can be expected. You’ve been through something like this before, at Belcourt Manor. I read the file. What do you think we should do?”
“We need to stick together,” I said. “Keep an eye on each other. No one goes off on their own, because that’s a good way to get picked off. If you need a toilet break, wait till we all need to go.”
“He’s right,” said Penny. “Listen to him. I’ve seen what happens when the group doesn’t stick together.”
“What did happen at Belcourt Manor?” said MacKay.
“People died,” I said. “Because they didn’t do what I told them to do.”
“If my parents had listened to Ishmael, they’d still be alive,” said Penny. “Listen to him. He knows what he’s doing.”
“But then you would say that, wouldn’t you?” said Redd.
“The only way to stay safe,” said Hayley, “is to figure out who the killer is ourselves. Find him, lock him up, sit on him till help gets here. Come on, we can do this! We’re all professionals . . .” She smiled briefly. “If we are who we say we are.”
“Where do we start?” said Penny.
I looked thoughtfully at Hayley and Doyle. “You were the last ones to see Parker alive.”
“But he was still alive when we left,” said Hayley. “Martin’s records will confirm that.”
“She’s right,” said Martin, without waiting to be asked.
“What did you talk about?” I said.
“That’s classified,” said Hayley.
“Even now?” said Penny.
“Especially now,” said Hayley.
“Just bullshit,” said Doyle, staring into his cup. “Nothing that mattered. Nothing you could trust.”
“Hush, dear,” said Hayley. “Drink your coffee.”
“We only agreed to work for the Organization because it seemed like a step up to better things,” said Doyle.
Hayley put a hand on his arm, and he stopped talking. And perhaps I was the only one to notice just how hard she squeezed his arm.
“You have to get back to the security centre!” Martin said suddenly, his voice almost hysterically loud and urgent. “Right now!”
“Calm yourself, Mr. Martin,” said MacKay, just a bit wearily. “What is the matter now?”
“You have to see this! Something’s happened.”
“What could be so important?” I said. “Parker’s not going anywhere.”
“That’s what you think,” said Martin.
We hurried back through the Lodge, pounding through the empty corridors as fast as we could without leaving anyone behind. MacKay led the way again, but this time we were all keeping a watchful eye on each other as well as our surroundings. When we finally arrived at the security centre, the door swung open before us. Martin had been watching and waiting. We hustled into the centre and pretty much filled it wall to wall. Martin bounced impatiently on his swivel chair.
“It happened again! One of the screens went blank when I wasn’t looking!”
He pointed a shaking finger at one particular screen, showing Parker’s cell. The bars were still closed, but the bed was empty. There was no trace of Parker anywhere in the cell. The bedclothes looked undisturbed, as though he’d just got up and walked away.
“He was gone when the cameras came back on!” said Martin. “And now I can’t find him anywhere in the Lodge.”
“He must be somewhere!” said MacKay. “He can’t have just vanished.”
“I thought you were keeping an eye on Parker?” I said to Martin.
“I can’t watch all the screens at once,” he said defensively. “I just keep up a regular routine to make sure I cover all of them in turn. But when I looked back at this screen, it was blank. The camera covering the cell had shut itself down. And while I was struggling to get it up and running, the system started working again all on its own and the cell was empty!”
“Whoever took the body can’t have got out of the Lodge,” I said. “We’re still locked in. We are still locked in, aren’t we?”
“Yes!” said Martin. “We’re still sealed up tight. But so was Parker’s cell . . . The computer records swear it hasn’t been opened.”
We all took a good look at the rows of screens, but there was nothing to see. The whole house was still and quiet and empty. Just as I expected. Someone was running a game on us.
“Shouldn’t the alarms have gone off?” said Redd.
“If anyone opened the cell, yes,” said Martin. “But it was never opened.”
“You’re not making sense, Mr. Martin,” said MacKay.
“I know!”
“At least we can be sure none of us were involved,” I said. “We were all together in the kitchen when it happened.”
Everyone looked startled, and then relaxed a little.
“Unless . . . the killer has an accomplice,” said Hayley. “Someone able to remove Parker’s body while we were all busy giving each other an alibi.”
She turned to look at Martin. And, one by one, so did everyone else. He glared back at us defiantly.
“My presence in this room is recorded by the computers. Every time that door opens and closes, the computer time-stamps it. You can check the permanent record for yourselves, if you want.”
MacKay reached out a hand, and Martin handed over his keyboard. MacKay slowly entered a series of commands, pausing to remember the correct passwords, until the required information flashed up on one of the screens. MacKay studied it, and then gave the keyboard back to Martin.
“The computers confirm Mr. Martin never left the centre. They also confirm Parker’s cell hasn’t been opened since I let you in to examine the body, Mr. Jones.”
“The computers should have sounded an alarm the moment someone started down the corridor to that cell,” I said. “Are you sure no one can override the Lodge’s systems from outside?”
“Yes!” said Martin. “Positive!”
“Then there must be an intruder inside the Lodge,” Baxter said flatly. “Hiding in some secret place no one else knows about.”
“But we checked everywhere, Bax,” Redd said patiently. “So did MacKay, and he knows this place better than anyone.”
“It’s the only answer that makes sense,” Baxter said stubbornly.
“Unless Parker got up and walked away,” said Penny.
We all stopped and looked at her.
“The stories say he’s unkillable,” said Penny. “What if the knife in the chest didn’t kill him, after all? What if he just bided his time, then got up and walked away? And now he’s let loose in the Lodge, looking for the man who tried to kill him. Looking for revenge . . .”
There was a long and very uncomfortable silence, as everyone considered that idea and decided they really didn’t like it.
“I want to go home,” said Doyle.
“You have the most experience with the darker corners of the world, Mr. Jones,” MacKay said slowly. “Is such a thing possible?”
“I’ve seen stranger things,” I said.
“Ghosts?” said Baxter. “Men who can’t be killed? Stick to what makes sense! You know the Lodge inside out, MacKay. It’s an old building. Could there be hidden rooms, secret passageways?”
“I never heard of any,” said MacKay, “But it is a possibility, I suppose. We’ll just have to search the Lodge again, top to bottom. Mr. Baxter and Mr. Redd, you will take the upper floor. Look for hidden doors and sliding panels. You have my permission to be as rough and destructive as you see fit. I will take the ground floor. Mr. Jones, Miss Belcourt, take the basement. Doctors, I think it best you find a room and barricade yourself in till we have determined the truth of the situation.”
“What did I just say about sticking together?” I said loudly. “Splitting up is always going to be a bad idea.”
“The security of the Lodge must come first,” said MacKay.
He strode out of the centre, with Baxter and Redd all but treading on his heels. Hayley and Doyle looked at each other.
“We’ll go back to the lounge,” said Hayley. “Stay out of everyone’s way. Join us there when you’re finished.”
She left, pushing Doyle ahead of her. I looked at Penny.
“Why does no one ever do what I tell them to?”
“I don’t know,” said Penny. “Maybe you should go on a course.”
“Excuse me?” said Martin. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Keep an eye on everyone,” I said. “And yell out if you see anything.”
“Like what?” said Martin.
“I think you’ll know when you see it,” I said.
I led Penny out of the security centre. The door started closing before we were even properly outside.
“First it’s ghosts,” said Penny. “Now it’s a dead man walking. What next? The old Ringstone Witch rising from her grave?”
“Hush,” I said. “You never know who might be listening.”