Scorpion [Scorpions 01] (14 page)

    ‘Well?’ Renshaw asked.

    ‘Stating the obvious - it’s a scorpion. But not like the scorpions I’ve ever seen - before.’

    ‘In what way?’ Duncan asked.

    ‘Its general appearance. Much bigger. Everything slightly larger than the normal species.’ Allan indicated the pincers. ‘Much more powerful. And the eyes are definitely larger. I’m sure that this ugly beggar could see a damn sight better than scorpions are supposed to see. In the main they have pretty lousy eyesight, in fact their eyes are very primitive. Normally they move about better at night - they’re nocturnal creatures - and they’re equipped with sensitive hairs that act almost like radar. They’re also able to respond to warmth, picking up vibrations.’

    ‘A couple of questions,’ Duncan said. ‘First - if these things are responsible for the earlier deaths, when there only appeared to be a few, where are they coming from? Secondly - how many are there?’

    ‘I wish I knew, Inspector. From what I’ve seen here there must be a hell of a lot of them.’

    Duncan sighed. ‘It’s beyond me,’ he said. ‘Plain and simple violence I can deal with. Even a good old-fashioned murder. But this?’ He shrugged. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

    ‘Do you mind if I take the scorpion?’ Allan asked.

    ‘Rather you than me, Doctor. Just looking at it makes me shiver.’

    Allan wrapped the scorpion in the plastic. Renshaw and Inspector Duncan had already stepped outside. Allan could hear them talking to someone. Footsteps sounded on the step and Allan turned to come face to face with Camperly. His superior stared at him for a moment, then glanced around the motor home. As his gaze fell on the two mutilated corpses Camperly’s face paled visibly. He took a step into the compartment. As he did so he crunched one of the dead scorpions under his foot. Camperly glanced down at the yellowish pulp oozing from beneath his shoe.

    ‘There isn’t much more to see,’ Allan said.

    Camperly glanced at him. For a moment Allan got the feeling Camperly was going to say something. Instead he nodded slowly and turned, making his way outside. Allan followed, closing the door on the grisly scene inside.

    Camperly walked across to where Inspector Duncan was talking with one of his officers. Spotting Renshaw climbing into his car Allan went over to him. Renshaw settled himself behind the wheel and rolled down his window.

    Tm off back to my nice warm hospital,’ he said. ‘I’m too old to go chasing around muddy fields in the rain. Anyway, this is out of my hands now. It’s up to you clever buggers.’

    ‘By the way, thanks for bringing me in,’ Allan said.

    ‘No thanks needed. You hatched the theory, Allan, and you’ve proved it was correct. You deserve to be involved.’ Renshaw glanced across to where Camperly stood. ‘But you watch him, my boy. He’ll come bouncing back, and if you close your eyes he’ll steal all your thunder!’

    ‘He can have it,’ Allan said. ‘All I want to do is sort this mess out before too many people get hurt.’

    Renshaw started the car. ‘If you need anything just give me a call.’

    ‘Doctor Brady!’

    Allan turned at the sound of his name, a wry smile flickering across his face as he realized it had been Camperly calling him. My God, he thought, I’ll bet that hurt him.
Doctor
Brady!

    ‘The Inspector tells me you have a reasonably good specimen,’ Camperly said as Allan joined him. ‘Even I can’t wriggle out of it this time can I, Allan?’

    You two-faced son of a bitch! Allan thought. He kept his face straight and held up the wrapped corpse. Camperly raised a hand.

    ‘Do you think we’ll be able to learn anything from it?’

    Allan shrugged. ‘It’s hard to tell. It occurred to me we might do better sending it to Ranleigh.’

    ‘Miles Ranleigh, the entomologist?’ Camperly nodded. ‘You’re probably right. He’s got the experience and the equipment. Can you arrange to get it to him quickly?’

    ‘I’ll take it myself,’ Allan suggested. He paused enjoying the moment. ‘I know Miles very well. He was a good friend of my father.’

    Camperly stiffened slightly. ‘You obviously have the situation well in hand. I’ll leave that part to you. In the meantime I’ll organize some kind of liaison with the police.’

    ‘Be back as soon as I can,’ Allan said.

    He left Camperly standing alone in the rain. Inspector Duncan had a quick word before Allan climbed back in the police car. He told the driver to take him back to the hospital so he could pick up his car.

    Before leaving the hospital Allan made a quick visit to the lab to pick up a large plastic sample case to carry the dead scorpion, then he drove to Chris’s cottage. He found her in her upstairs studio, working on the article.

    ‘Allan! Hi!’ She got up from her desk and kissed him. Sensing his mood of urgency she asked: ‘What’s wrong?’

    ‘The scorpions have turned up again,’ he said.

    ‘Where?’

    He told her what had happened.

    ‘How awful.’ She added: ‘But at least you’ve been proved right - even in Camperly’s eyes.’

    ‘Damn Camperly,’ Allan flared. ‘Why does everybody think all I want to do is make him look stupid?’

    It was the first time he’d lost his temper with Chris. For a moment there was a strained silence. Then Allan laughed and reached for her.

    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to yell.’

    ‘No… I should have known petty victories aren’t your style.’ She kissed him warmly. ‘You make yourself comfortable and I’ll get us something to eat.’

    Allan shook his head. ‘Sorry, I can’t. I really dropped in to tell you I’m taking a trip.’

    ‘Where?’

    ‘To see an entomologist friend who lives in Buckinghamshire. We’ve got a dead scorpion - in fair condition. This man I know - Miles Ranleigh - is one of the best in his field. He’ll be able to tell us a lot about the scorpions.’

    ‘How long will you be gone?’

    ‘A day or so.’

    ‘And how do I know you haven’t got a girl waiting for you up there, Allan Brady!’

    He grinned. ‘Because, young woman, by the time you’ve finished with me I don’t have anything left over for a second lover.’

    She walked him to the door. ‘Take care now,’ she said, holding him tightly.

    ‘I’ll give you a ring when I get the chance.’

    ‘Can’t say when I’ll be in,’ Chris told him. ‘I’ve got some bits and pieces I want to pick up for the article, so I may be out most of the time.’

    ‘Well I’ll just keep trying,’ Allan said. He kissed her soundly and ran to his car.

    

    

    It was almost noon the next day as Chris eased her car off the road, parking it in the cover of thick undergrowth. She switched off the engine and reached across to pick up the folded map from the passenger seat. Resting it against the steering wheel she familiarized herself with the various landmarks, checking them off against those on the map. After a while she put down the map, leaned back in her seat, and peered out through the windscreen.

    She was parked about a half-mile from the Long Point Nuclear Plant. It lay to her left. Ahead of her the land sloped away towards the cliffs. At this particular place the land was unattended, overgrown, which suited Chris’s purpose admirably. She had come to get some additional material for the article - mainly photographs of the steel pipe that ran from the plant out over the cliffs. In going through some old maps of the area she had come across an indication of a building near the plant. Further investigation had shown that the pipe taking the excess water from the plant ran directly beneath the building. Intrigued, Chris checked with the local Environmental Planning Office. All they could tell her was that the place had been built by the Defense Ministry some ten years back - something to do with research in conjunction with the nuclear plant. Then, after a couple of years, government cuts in defense spending caused the place to be abandoned. Apparently no one had ever been near the place since and it had simply fallen into disrepair.

    Chris climbed out of the car, turning up her collar against the cold, drizzly rain. She took a bright yellow rain hat from the pocket and pulled it down over her hair. Checking that she had her camera she closed the car door and set off through the long grass. She had no idea what she might find, but any link with the plant and the source of the radiation leak was of interest to her. She envisaged a series of photographs, some showing the steel pipe, others of the derelict building; perhaps a passage in the article pointing out the danger of such a place close to a source of radiation - danger to life, to the environment. It was, she thought, worth making a visit.

    It was further than she had imagined. As she got near, Chris could see the skeletal uprights of what had once been a security fence around the place. Now the fencing had all but gone. The concrete drive, which must have run down from the road, was overgrown with weeds, choked by intertwining brambles. Thick fern fronds rose gracefully from the tall grass. She paused and raised her camera, taking a couple of shots of the approach to the building.

    Now she could make out the building itself. A long, low concrete structure; stark, cold lines; the concrete itself weathered, streaked with dirt from exposure to the elements. The windows were devoid of glass and the only doorway she could see had even lost the actual door. She was looking at an empty shell. She wandered towards the place; as a child she would have found wonder and excitement in a find like this - now she saw only desolation, a cast-off, one more chunk of litter left by man to despoil the natural beauty of the earth. Stepping across the overgrown concrete apron that ran around the building Chris wandered to the side that faced the distant plant. She could see where the steel pipe snaked its way across the ground, part-buried, the curved top of the pipe practically hidden by the thick grass. Chris followed the line of the pipe. About ten yards from the building there was a concrete block. Here the pipe curved down beneath the ground. Chris walked around to the far side of the building. At a similar distance from the other end of the building the pipe reappeared, again encased in concrete, and then curved off towards the distant cliff top and its plunge seawards. The maps had been right; the pipe did go beneath the building. But why? The pipe had been designed to carry nothing more lethal than the superheated water from the plant. So what good would it have been? The only apparent solution was that the water had provided some kind of heating system for the building; a permanent supply of extremely hot water that could have been pushed through a central-heating system; free, straightforward, round-the-clock heating. It seemed a logical explanation. Chris took a few more shots of the pipe and the building, then retraced her steps to the front. A quick look round inside would satisfy her curiosity and perhaps answer her questions.

    She reached the dark opening of the doorway, hesitating as she peered into the gloom. The interior held a strange smell; a mixture of stale air and an odd earthy muskiness. Chris shivered slightly and took a step inside. Something crunched under her shoe. Glancing down she saw pieces of broken glass; a short distance away lay a broken bottle. Chris smiled as she made out the words printed on the label; it looked as though someone had been living it up, she thought, recognizing the trade mark of very expensive whisky. She kicked aside the broken glass, and prepared to move deeper into the building.

    ‘Still poking your nose in where it isn’t wanted?’

    The sharp voice came from behind Chris. Startled, she spun round and found herself face to face with Vic Condon.

    The security man was leaning against the concrete wall, watching her, his expression one of sly menace.

    ‘Got you this time!’ he said.

    ‘Meaning?’ Chris demanded.

    Condon clicked his teeth. ‘Don’t get on your high horse with me, sweetheart. You ain’t in the position to.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Remember I said we’d meet up one day without a fence in the way? This is your lucky day!’

    Chris shook her head slowly. ‘Don’t be a fool, Condon. Do you expect me to take notice of talk like that? Just step out of my way, and I’ll go.’

    Condon reached out and rubbed his fingers up and down the front of Chris’s coat. ‘Wouldn’t be polite for you to go running off - not at a time like this…’

    Chris took a quick step back, away from his prying fingers. Condon grinned and confidently took a step towards her. He failed to see the camera Chris was holding by its leather strap. She swung it with all her strength, bringing it up from knee level. The camera was a solid piece of equipment and it caught Vic Condon just below the left ear. He gave a stunned grunt. Swearing, he lunged at Chris but she easily avoided him; before he could recover his balance she had slipped outside and was running from the building, heading for the road. He watched her go, rubbing his sore face. The bitch! He felt blood trickle through his fingers. The bitch cut me!

    He stood for a moment, waiting for the pain and the anger to subside. His cap had fallen to the floor. Condon picked it up. As he began to straighten up he thought he saw something scuttle back into the shadows on the other side of the dark room. He shrugged. Probably a mouse. The place was most likely full of the bloody things! He stepped outside; the feel of the rain on his face was pleasant. He cut across towards his car, glancing up in the direction of the road. He could see the girl’s distant, retreating figure. Go on, you bitch! Run! There’ll be another day!

    Reaching his car he flung open the door and started to climb in. He stopped. Frowning, he looked up at Chris’s tiny figure, then slowly turned his attention to the old building. Why had she been prying and poking around in there? He grudgingly admitted that there was more to her than just a good-looking face and a pair of big… Condon swore softly. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she knew something about the hushed-up leak. He’d heard about the call Meacham had got - the sudden scurrying to and fro, the calls from London. Security had been tightened up. The whole damn plant had gone crazy. Then the order had come from Whitehall to shut down the small reactor. Something was in the wind and Whitehall was making itself fireproof. And now he’d caught Chris Lane snooping around. She was a sharp one all right. Too bloody sharp. Grumbling to himself Condon fished a big flashlight from under the dashboard of the car. He slammed the door shut and trudged back towards the building.