The Amulet (22 page)

She looked back at the man in the back seat, and her eyes were glistening with tears.

"So what went wrong?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Greed, Mr. Adams. Greed and the desire for power. Mr. Durban, whom you have met, has forged an alliance with the Arab. He lusts for the power that his great-grandfather was denied. Arthur has used all his strength in fighting him, and he has had to resort to some of the same methods. It has broken him."

She bent over the seat and placed Dunlop's coat over his sleeping body, as if looking after a child. I had a feeling I still wasn't getting the whole story. Dunlop just didn't strike me as a victim, but I kept my mouth shut; it would wait.

As she was turning back, her body went rigid and she let out a small cry of pain. I hit the brakes, but she stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

"No," she said through clenched teeth. "Keep going. And don't stop."

I got the car moving again, and at the same time she started murmuring under her breath once more. The muttering was to continue for the rest of the journey. Somewhere north of Oban, Dunlop woke up and joined in as well-it was like sharing the car with a buzz saw.

I could see in the rear-view mirror that he was sweating, great heavy drops that ran greasily down his forehead. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, but never broke the cadence of his mutters. I drove for nearly two hours with the pair of them droning in the background. In the end I opened my driver-side window and tried to let the road noise drown them out.

I needed the window open for another reason-I felt dog-tired. I'd had maybe eight hours of real sleep in the last sixty. I'd pulled plenty of all-nighters in the past, but never on a case of this intensity.

The road got narrower and windier north of Fort William, and I had to concentrate harder. I opened the window further until the breeze was like a gale blowing through the car. I'd be using up a lot more fuel, but I wasn't paying. As I drove I smoked cigarettes-Dunlop didn't look like he would complain-and tried to keep my eyelids from drooping.

He finally made me stop the car near the new bridge to Skye. I deliberately waited for a blind corner before I stopped, and I had to brake hard to get us into the roadside parking place in time.

Ten seconds later our tail flew past. I had been looking forward to seeing the shock on their faces when they saw us at the side of the road, but I was the one who got the surprise.

I had expected some junior policemen, not Stan and Ollie.

And I didn't see any surprise. All I saw was Hardy's dour features staring straight ahead as they passed us and kept going. I had underestimated my importance to them-they must really have suspected me to follow me this far. Then another thought hit me-maybe it wasn't me they were following after all; maybe it was Dunlop.

I almost told Dunlop, then, hoping he would turn back and forget about the amulet. But then I thought about Doug, about my dream of the night before. I'd got in too deep to back out now.

We all got out of the car, and I wondered what was coming now. Dunlop looked even worse, and he had to hold onto the car for support as he moved round towards the boot.

"We're getting close. Time for some preparations," he said, taking the suitcase from the boot. I had to help him with it-he didn't seem to have any strength left. He asked me to put it on the ground.

"Turn away," he said. "You don't need to see this."

That was like a red rag to a bull. I did turn my back, but couldn't resist a peek over my shoulder. I soon wished I hadn't bothered. Luckily there was no one around-we could have been arrested on the spot if anyone had caught a look at the bag's contents.

Let's just say that 'portable abattoir' would have been a good description. There were bits of raw steak-large pieces of red meat floating in glass jars. I couldn't identify the cuts; I tend to like my meat already hidden in pies, but it didn't look like beef or lamb. One of the pieces looked remarkably like a penis, but I'm sure I was mistaken. I hope I was.

He took something red and dripping from one glass jar and deftly cut it into three segments.

"A little steak?" he asked, handing me a piece. "For strength."

He must have seen the disgust on my face.

"A little too raw for you? We can soon rectify that." He passed his hand over the meat and there was a sizzling and the sweet smell of cooking meat. Despite myself, I found that my mouth was wet with saliva.

"Eat it," he said, passing the now-charred flesh to me. "You'll need it later."

I took it gingerly and studied it while he passed the other piece to Fiona. I watched her reaction, and she didn't flinch before popping the piece into her mouth.

It certainly looked like steak. I took a bite and my mouth watered as I chewed the soft meat. It had a heavy tang I had never tasted before, but it went down smoothly enough.

"Good?" Dunlop asked, and I nodded assent. He smiled at me slyly, and I wondered what I had just eaten, but I didn't have the nerve to ask.

The sun was just going down behind the Cullins, throwing a pink sheet across the evening sky. A light wind sent white horses scudding across the surface of the sea. The hills stood out gray and stark on the skyline and somewhere overhead I heard the hunting call of a buzzard. Sometimes I wonder why I bother staying in the city. I resolved, when this was all over, to get out into the country more, to see more of my native land. I just hoped I'd have the chance to do it.

All three of us stood in silence for a while content to let nature take its course. Suddenly Dunlop and Fiona moved close together.

"Join us," she said, stretching out her hand.

I took it, and Dunlop took my free hand. It was like holding hands with a corpse-his palm was cold and clammy, somehow greasy. I felt self-conscious, half expecting a busload of tourists to leap out and start filming us. That all disappeared when Fiona started to sing.

It was soaring, it was melodic, and it moved me, bringing pictures of simple life in forests, of crystal clear waterfalls, of wildlife in abundance. You know the kind of thing-picture postcard scenery for tourists. But Fiona's voice overcame my cynicism, bringing surprise tears to my eyes.

It sounded like Gaelic, but I couldn't be sure. Dunlop's hand felt damp and heavy in mine, but I soon failed to notice.

A tingling spread through me, like mild pins and needles that started at my feet and moved slowly up my body. It felt as if my hair stood on end, and I seemed to be drawing heat straight from the sun. The pain in my arm, which had been with me all day, faded to a dull ache then melted away completely. Beside me, Dunlop straightened and his skin color improved markedly. He still looked ill, but he no longer looked like he might die at any minute.

Fiona seemed to have grown in stature, and she had taken on an inner glow. The song finished but we stood there for several minutes, grinning at each other inanely.

Dunlop was the first to move.

"We are as ready as we can be. Time to go."

I had a mind full of questions, but Dunlop waved them all away. An hour ago he had looked near death, now he looked ready for anything.

"No time for questions, Derek, The stars are almost right. We must go; I have an ancestor to revenge."

As we got into the car I flexed my wounded arm, gingerly, expecting a flare of pain, but there was nothing, just a vague numbness. I pressed the wounded area lightly, but still there was no pain.

Fiona put a hand on my arm.

"Don't worry, Derek-I haven't harmed you. And it will only last a few hours. By tomorrow morning you'll have the pain back again, I'm afraid."

I put it to the back of my mind, aware that it was getting crowded in there with unanswered, maybe unanswerable, questions, but I forced myself to concentrate as Dunlop told me where to go next.

I was no longer tired. And for maybe the first time since the start of the case, I didn't want a cigarette. I'd have to ask her the secret of her song. If we could market it as an anti-smoking cure, we would make a fortune.

Dunlop directed me north along several single-track roads, hedges pushing in close to the car, trees overhanging in a huge, gnarled arc, almost blotting out the sun. I took it slowly, easing the big car round the corners, aware that at any moment a crazed tourist could be coming the other way, one who was doing at least sixty while studying a map.

Dunlop seemed confused at first, but then began to grow more confident, as if he was recognizing landmarks. He leaned over my shoulder and asked me to stop as we crested a hill overlooking the sea.

We were standing on a promontory, looking down to a small island about four hundred yards from us. White spray lashed the black rocks on the cliffs beneath us, and on the island, in the middle of a densely wooded area, sat a Gothic mansion straight out of an old Hollywood B-movie, something knocked up in a couple of days by Roger Corman.

The stone looked black in the last rays of the dying sun, twin turrets jutting skywards like arms reaching for the sky.

A whole horde of small protuberances stuck out from these turrets and, although we were too far away to be sure, I was pretty certain they would prove to be gargoyles.

A thin causeway led from the road, across to the island, and ended in a wide drive in front of the house. There were several expensive cars parked in the driveway, but I didn't recognize any of them-the policemen's car was not among them. I hoped we had finally lost Stan and Ollie, but in my heart I knew that they were around, somewhere, just waiting for the right moment to make their move. I hoped they would give me time to find Doug-if he was anywhere on this earth to be found.

I realized that I was probably going to be in trouble with the policemen when this was all over. Then again, a couple of hours of boredom in a police cell sounded fine just about then. I promised myself that I would never whine about being bored again.

Look where it leads you.

My mind was wandering again, trying to ignore what lay ahead. I didn't like the look of that house-I didn't want to go down that hill.

As we watched, lights winked on in two of the windows like giant eyes snapping open.

The island was made of solid rock and stood twenty-feet out of the water on dark basaltic cliffs, on top of which sat a wall that must have been ten feet high. The only entrance was across the man-made causeway to the imposing wrought-iron gates.

"Welcome to Arkham House," Dunlop said, and I half expected a bolt of lightning and a roll of thunder to accompany his words.

"And what now?" I asked. "I don't think any of us are up to climbing those cliffs. And they're not going to let us just walk up the drive. How do you plan to get in?"

He patted the side of his nose with his index finger.

"Trade secrets, I'm afraid. But it will be best if we wait till full dark-the ceremony will not begin until midnight, and the less time we spend in the house grounds the better."

"And then what?" I pressed, but I didn't get any answer. Fiona got out of the car, then back in again to sit beside Dunlop in the back.

"Could you leave us alone for a bit, Derek?" she asked. There was genuine pleading in her eyes; I couldn't refuse.

I left them in the car and went out to watch the last of the sunset. Stars were beginning to twinkle into existence overhead. I wondered what was 'right' about them on this night in particular-to me they looked as cold and impersonal as ever.

I looked back into the car, and looked away again quickly. They were in a clinch, like a pair of teenagers out on a date. I walked away and left them to it, but I couldn't help being jealous.

The road was heavily wooded all the way down to the island, but I didn't intend going any closer to that house until it was absolutely necessary. I walked back up the road for fifty yards, just far enough so that I could no longer see the couple in the back seat.

I lit a cigarette and tried not to think of how quiet it was, trying not to wonder what was making the noises in the undergrowth. The cigarette tasted burnt-a piece of dry ash-and I wondered why I had ever put one in my mouth. I stubbed it out on the bark of a tree. It was when I flicked the stub away that I spotted it.

It looked like a rear end of a car, the taillights still faintly burning, hidden behind a mass of gorse bushes.

I crept closer, having to push the thorny bush aside to get through, but soon, only ten yards from the road, I stood beside Stan and Ollie's car. They'd driven it off the road, then covered it in branches. I wondered if it was us they were following-after all, hadn't I put them on Durban's tail earlier. Maybe they were down at the house already?

Then I saw the blood. They weren't going to be bothering me any more...they weren't going to be bothering anybody any more.

I didn't want to look too closely, but I knew what had got them-the puncture marks from the tentacles were becoming all too familiar by now.

I tried to open the car doors, thinking that one of them might still be alive, but the doors were all locked, from the inside. I considered breaking in, but there was no need; it was obvious that both men were dead-very much dead.

The interior of the car was like an abattoir, crimson splashes of blood and gore across all the glass. The policemen were both in the back seat in a tangle of arms and legs, in a cruel parody of the loving couple in the car a bit further down the road. It looked like they had tried to put up a fight-and failed.

I did stay around long enough to check if their radio might be working, but I could see through the windscreen that it, and all the instrument panel, had been broken and smashed.

Just then there was a loud crack as something heavy moved in the undergrowth. Ten seconds later, I was back beside Dunlop's Mercedes, wheezing and panting as if I'd just run a mile rather than less than a hundred yards.

When I reached the car I looked back up the road, but nothing moved, there was only the quiet dark. I thought of how it must have come on them, silent and deadly and completely terrifying in the claustrophobic confines of the car. I shivered, and I wasn't entirely convinced it had been brought on by the cold.