The Recipient (33 page)

“Casey!” Lionel called out.

Casey slapped her hand to her mouth, stifling the urge to gasp. Dropping to her knees, she scrambled across the floor and cowered behind the door.

“Casey, what's happening?” Lionel shouted.

Cocking her ear to the gap between the door and the door frame, Casey gulped. There was a long moment of silence followed by the sound of footfalls on the broken glass.

Oh, Jesus!

CHAPTER 31.

F
ighting against panic, Casey realised the smartphone's light was still shining in the darkness. Pushing the door to the office closed, she winced as it squeaked on its hinges before stopping just short of closing completely. Casey reached out for the crowbar, dragging it to her, then she made a desperate grab for the phone, killing the light and shoving it against her ear.

“Pa, someone's here!” she whispered frantically. “Someone's downstairs!”

Lionel felt sick.

“Casey, get out of there,” he growled. “Get out of there now!”

“I can't.”

Lionel paced around the kitchen counter. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Casey, you have to do some—”

Without warning, the line went dead.

“Casey!” Lionel shouted. “Casey!”

Casey clutched the neck of her shirt as a series of loud thuds sounded on the stairs.

Her eyes flicked around the study. For a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea of escaping through the window, but dismissed it just as quickly. It appeared to be painted shut and, in any case, she doubted she would have enough time to get to it.

She was utterly trapped.

How could anyone have possibly known?

She could hear someone moving slowly towards the door now. Squeezing her eyes shut, Casey grabbed the crowbar in both hands.

“I know you're in there,” a male voice growled.

Casey's eyes snapped open. Her breath caught in her throat.

She recognised the voice.

“There's nowhere to run. No one is coming for you.”

Casey felt her stomach lurch. A vortex of images flashed before her. Images from both the nightmares and from her memories—her recent and real memories.

A conversation.

He leaned in and gently drew down the sheet so that he could examine the cables. In the process, he inadvertently brushed his forearm over her chest…

She shivered and blushed even more acutely…

“You're seeing the boss today?”

“Yeah, this afternoon at three.”

“He does like his data.”

Casey couldn't bear to believe it. She began to shake.

Saskia's face, pleading with her through the lightning flash inside the nightmare.

The gloved hand in the nightmare; plunging into her chest; cascades of blood…

The intruder was outside the door. It moved as a hand rested upon the handle.

Casey steeled herself.

The door swung open and Casey shifted just enough to allow it to complete its arc.

The intruder stepped into the room behind a powerful beam of light.

Casey held her breath, praying that he wouldn't hear her. The torch light swept around the room as the intruder searched for her. She did not dare look around the door frame to see who it was.

She already knew.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated noisily in her pocket and, as she was wedged behind the door, it vibrated against that too, amplifying the noise so that the whole door became the phone's ringer.

Oh fuck!

His fingers appeared at the edge and, before she could react, he wrenched the door back and shone the blinding light directly at Casey. Though dazzled by the beam, Casey could still see him.

She recoiled.

Francis Arlo.

A single, interminable moment of shocked recognition passed between them. Time slowed to a crawl.

Neither one could move.

Without warning, Arlo whipped his arm up, closed his fist and swung hard at Casey. She whipped her head to her right as his fist crashed into the wall beside her, shattering the plaster board and slashing the skin across his knuckles as it struck a wooden beam inside the cavity. The torch fell to the floor.

Arlo yelped in pain as Casey dropped to her knees and rolled from her hiding place.

Grasping the crowbar in both hands, she sprang to her feet, planting them well apart as she raised it over her head, preparing to strike.

Arlo gasped, seeing her in the half-light from his torch, wrenched his arm free and propelled himself backwards, crashing directly into her midsection.

Casey felt the wind knocked from her and the crowbar fell from her hands. As she collapsed back, it struck her on the side of her head and she saw stars.

She crashed down onto the paper shredder behind her, shattering the electronic component of the machine. Sharp fragments pierced her skin and drew blood. She cried out again.

As she struggled on the floor, a sudden and intense pain exploded inside her chest, sucking the breath from her once more.

The room began to spin and she felt sick.

Arlo did not wait. Recovering, he spun around and braced himself in the middle of the room before spying the fallen crowbar. He lunged for it, grabbing it up in his hand, then he grabbed the torch and shone the beam directly at Casey.

As she flailed impotently on the floor before him, shielding her eyes from the beam of light, Arlo looked down on her, his expression hovering somewhere between sadness and apoplexy.

He shook his head. “You think I'd be stupid enough not to secure this place in the event of an intruder?” he snarled.

Casey's voice caught in her throat. She shook uncontrollably as the pain in her chest grew more intense, robbing her of breath.

Arlo lurched towards her, a crazed fury in his eyes.

“You couldn't leave it alone, could you?” he hissed. “You just had to keep pushing.”

Casey spat at him.

“Why,” she croaked, struggling to speak against crushing waves of nausea. “
Why
!”

Grief and rage collided within her. She could not comprehend that before her stood the man who had helped save her life. The man Fedele had once called his natural extension. She had trusted him. Had been grateful to him.

She had respected him.

This very same man was the monster from her nightmares—Saskia's memories. The memories that had been given to Casey from the very moment Saskia's heart had begun to beat inside her chest.

Arlo stood over her, glowering, his jaw clenched, armed with the weapon. The very realisation of her nightmares.

His eyes were filled with hatred and evil. And yet, there was something else.

They were filled with fear.

He raised the crowbar over his head.

In that moment, Casey saw past the torch's blinding light. She saw where he was standing in relation to her.

In one swift movement, she folded her legs up and drew them tight against her body. Dropping the torch, Arlo gripped the crowbar in both hands and sucked in a loud, deep breath.

Casey screamed as she kicked out as hard as she could, her legs propelling towards Arlo like hydraulic rams.

She struck true in the centre of his groin with so much force that Arlo was flung backwards like a rag doll. Striking the wall behind him, he roared in agony as he crumpled to the floor, clutching his groin.

Casey was on her feet in an instant. No sooner had Arlo drawn himself up into a sitting position, she struck again, flicking her right leg up and ramming it directly into his face. The sound of breaking bone mixed with his anguished cries as his nose shattered and bent sickeningly to one side.

Casey would not be assuaged.

She came at him again and again, kicking him as hard as she could, screaming in animalistic fury. Blood poured from his ruined nose. Deep lacerations opened up under his right eye and his chin. A tooth dislodged and flicked up into her cheek.

Her barrage was relentless. The intensity of her anger detonated like a nuclear bomb. Three years of pain and anguish spewed forth in the fallout and he was powerless to stop it.

As he tried to raise a hand up to his face, Arlo's cries grew more desperate.

And then they stopped.

And then she stopped.

She stumbled back. Arlo's hand dropped. His head slumped forward. He continued to moan into the fractured darkness but it was clear he was close to unconsciousness.

Her breath was ragged. Recovering the fallen crowbar, Casey stumbled back and spat on Arlo's inert form. She felt her phone vibrate and her hand dropped to her side, plucking the device from her pocket.

Looking at the screen, she blinked and allowed herself to feel a crackle of relief. There was a ‘message received' notification from Prishna.

Glancing down at Arlo, Casey pitched the phone at him, hitting him in the side of his face.

“You're done, Francis,” she said bitterly. “They aren't coming for me.
They're coming for you
!”

Casey backed away, supporting herself against the desk as she fought to slow her breath. All at once, her emotions overcame her. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she sobbed in the darkness. Her adrenaline-soaked strength collapsed as she raised a hand to her face.

Without warning, Arlo erupted from the floor and pitched himself at her, striking her hard with a closed fist. The blow knocked her sideways as she crashed against the bookcase.

Disoriented and panicked, Casey felt the room tip sideways and she thrust her hands out in front of her, swinging at the air to protect herself from him.

The expected attack never came.

Instead, Arlo threw open the door to the study and leapt through it, striking the door frame with his hip and shoulder.

In her faltering consciousness, the realisation came to Casey.

He's escaping!

Forcing herself to action, she lurched to her feet and started forward, only to stagger as she vomited on the floor.

There was a crash and a roar of agony from Arlo as he stumbled on the stairs and fell hard through the decrepit banister rail. The sound of smashing glass followed, compelling Casey to look up.

Her stomach spasmed twice, then three times. Casey steadied herself against the door then bent down to retrieve her phone from the floor, its screen flashing with another incoming call from Lionel.

This time, she stamped her thumb against it and shoved it against her ear as she staggered forward.

“Casey!”

“I've got him,” Casey growled through clenched teeth. “I've got him and he's on the run.”

“Stay where you are, Casey! Prishna's on the way!”

Casey tripped down the stairs. The front door had been wrenched open and hung precariously from a single hinge. The stained glass panel had smashed and shards were scattered on the floor.

Beyond the door, two piercing headlight beams punctured the darkness. The sound of a car's engine screamed to life. Skidding to a stop on the tiled verandah, Casey looked down and through the windshield of a deep burgundy BMW sport coupe. Casey gasped in horror, realising that she recognised the car. It was the same one that had very nearly hit her at Flaxley. Shaking the realisation away, she locked her eyes onto Arlo's face, bathed in a red glow from his dashboard lights.

“I can't!” she cried out. “He's leaving. Arlo is escaping!”

At the other end of the line, Lionel's voice caught in his throat.

“Who did you say?”

“It's Arlo, Pa!” Casey screamed. “
It's Francis Arlo
!”

The coupe revved hard and careened backwards before Arlo wrenched the steering wheel down, spinning it to one side and lining it up with the entrance to the property. The car shot forward, its tyres spitting out white gravel.

Casey bounded down the steps, wincing from the pain in her leg where he had kicked her. Through the gates and onto the street, she watched Arlo's car speed towards the intersection as she staggered towards the Volkswagen, pointing her remote at it and wrenching the door open.

Several people from neighbouring homes had come out onto the street at the commotion. Casey ignored them as she started the car and gunned the engine as quickly as she could.

The Volkswagen leapt forward and fishtailed along the street as she took off after Arlo.

CHAPTER 32.

L
ionel jogged towards the Blue Heeler Bar.

The young doorman at the entrance frowned as he approached, gesturing to his colleague who glanced at the somewhat desperate-looking old-timer.

Stumbling at the kerb, Lionel growled. He unzipped his heavy parka and loosened his tie before glaring up at the perplexed doorman. The doorman stepped in front of the entrance with his arms folded. His expression hardened.

“I have to see someone,” Lionel croaked, his chest heaving. “It's urgent.”

“Don't you think it's a little past your bedtime, old man?” the doorman observed sarcastically.

Lionel bent forward and put his hands on his knees, gulping again in an attempt to catch his breath.

“You don't understand. I…”

At that moment, the side door to the bar opened and a third doorman stepped out into the night air. He exchanged a suspicious glance at his colleagues who looked back at him and shrugged.

“This one causing trouble?” the newly arrived doorman asked.

“Seems grandpa here is out for a good time,” the younger man remarked. “I was just suggesting that he might be better off tucked up in his nurs—”

He never finished his sentence.

Lionel pounced, raising his forearm and using it like a ram against the younger man's throat, shoving him hard against the wall. His colleagues were caught by surprise; both by Lionel's action and the strength of his hold. The doorman flailed helplessly. His eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe.

Lionel whipped his head up at the two stunned doormen.

“Sasquatch,” Lionel snarled, his arm shaking against the chest of the doorman. “I need to see Sasquatch
now
!”

As abruptly as he had erupted, Lionel released his hold. The doorman collapsed forward in a fit of coughing. Lionel grabbed him under both arms and gently held him up while he recovered.

The two accompanying doormen exchanged confused looks, then one of them seemed to understand. As Lionel patted the younger man's back, his colleague stepped back and opened the door.

“Come in. Come in quickly,” he stammered.

Supporting the younger man up the stairs, Lionel deposited him in a chair just inside the door, then looked to his colleague who pointed up the stairs and gestured for him to follow.

Emerging onto the rooftop, Lionel scanned the bustling garden, his eyes locking onto Scott who was circling the dance floor area and greeting a number of patrons. Without waiting, Lionel squeezed the doorman's arm and nodded his thanks. He strode across the crowded dance floor, pushing his way through the young crowd as if they were of no consequence. Scott looked in his direction and blinked, first in surprised recognition and then with concern.

Lionel stepped around a nubile young party-goer and nodded.

“What's wrong,” Scott said over the din. It was less a question than a statement.

“Casey,” Lionel replied grimly. “She's in trouble. She's found the car.”

Scott's jaw dropped. “Shit!” he managed to whisper, glancing urgently to his right towards the bar in the far corner.

“I need your help,” Lionel continued, his voice faltering.

Scott nodded and rounded his arm around Lionel's back, gently shepherding him through the throng and over to the bar.

“Claire,” Scott called to the young barmaid. “Where's the Lurch Monster?”

“Dunno,” she apologized. “Downstairs I reckon.”

Scott grimaced and thumped the bar with his fist as he looked to Lionel. Then he nodded and glanced back at Claire.

“I gotta go,” he said. “Tell Lurch it was urgent.”

Claire frowned in confusion at first, then she regarded Lionel who looked at her with a worried expression.

“Okay,” she said. “I'll let him know.”

Scott turned and took Lionel's elbow. “Come on. Let's go.”

___

Ignoring the traffic, Casey sped along Cotham Road, weaving across the lanes to avoid getting caught behind cars, trucks or trams. She punched the horn repeatedly in a desperate attempt to alert them to her presence, causing chaos in her wake as vehicles skidded across the road to avoid being hit, before responding in kind with their own horns.

She punched the steering wheel, cursing herself over and over for allowing Arlo to escape. She'd had him subdued. He was helpless. Yet, somehow, he'd been able to recover.

The more she admonished herself, the more her emotions spun. Fresh tears stung her cheeks and she wiped them away furiously.

It was Arlo? How could it be Arlo?

Forcing herself to focus, Casey scanned the road ahead of her, searching desperately among the smattering of vehicles for Arlo's distinctive coupe. She spied several luxury cars, one of which closely resembled his. But Arlo's was nowhere among them.

A set of traffic lights flicked to red ahead of her but Casey ignored it. Gripping the steering wheel harder, she planted her foot. The Volkswagen's engine whined in protest but shot forward like a bullet, weaving in between a car and a commercial truck ahead of her. She punched the horn over and over again as she sped through the intersection, causing approaching vehicles on both her left and right to brake desperately.

Casey did not look back.

A tram emerged ahead of her and she raced up behind it before swinging wide on its left-hand side. Her eyes locked onto a sports car several yards ahead.

It was him.

Adjusting her grip on the steering wheel, she dropped a gear and floored the accelerator once more, putting on a fresh burst of speed.

The speedometer's needle twitched wildly, passing ninety, then one hundred, then one hundred and ten kilometres per hour.

Somewhere in her mind, a rational thought admonished her.

This is insane. You are going to get someone killed.

Casey wiped her eyes again, crushing the thought. She would not allow him to get away. She shot past another tram, gradually closing the distance between herself and Arlo until a car's length separated them. She flicked on her high beams.

Blinding light punctured the cabin of Arlo's car and reflected off the rear-vision mirror directly into his puffed eyes. Shouting, he yanked reflexively on the steering wheel, causing the BMW to fishtail.

Knifing pain shot through his ruined nose and Arlo almost lost control. In desperation, he stabbed the brakes, slowing just enough to recover. His action closed the distance between himself and Casey and with a sudden, deafening crash of metal and plastic, the Volkswagen ploughed into the BMW's rear, obliterating the plastic bumper of Casey's car and crumpling the rear of Arlo's in a shower of sparks and smoking tyres as each car braked to avoid a catastrophe.

Arlo pitched forward violently in his seat until his seatbelt went taut and flung him back, whiplashing his neck in the process. A fresh trickle of blood dripped from his nose.

Reaching across to the multi-function display in the centre of the dashboard, Arlo navigated to the car's phone controls and pressed a voice command function.

“Call Consulting Suites!” he shouted in a ragged voice.

A message flashed up on the display.

‘Calling Consulting Suites.'

A dial tone filled the car's speaker system, followed by a click, then a deep voice at the other end of the line.

“Speak!” it ordered. “Where are you?”

“We have a problem,” Arlo spluttered through sprays of blood. “The safe house has been breached. The back up files have been discovered.”

“You didn't destroy them?” the voice retorted incredulously.

“I d-didn't have time! I thought I would be oka—”

“But you weren't, Francis!” the voice thundered. “You were lazy and now you've allowed our work to be uncovered.”

“I'm sorry,” Arlo stammered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I'm being pursued now. She is coming at me.”

The was a moment of silence at the other end of the line followed by, “She?”

Arlo nodded. “Yes. It's Schillinge.”

Another screech of metal pierced through the cabin as the Volkswagen again shunted hard into the back of Arlo's car. His hands were flung from the steering wheel as the BMW careened across the roadway and mounted the kerb where it heavily glanced a tall brick fence.

Arlo cried out in terror, wrenched the wheel hard to the right and angled the car back onto the road. No sooner had he recovered, that the car swerved wildly across both lanes, directly into the path of an oncoming tram.

“NO!” he screamed, yanking down on the steering once more. He wrested control of the car and it jerked away from the tram at the last moment.

Searching his mirrors, Arlo spotted Casey's car. It was still firmly on his tail.

The voice at the other end bellowed, “Where are you now!”

Shaking his head, Arlo dropped his hand to the centre console, flicking the touch screen with his finger and bringing up a satellite image.

“Heading east. Out of the city. I'm close to the freeway.”

“Keep going. Lead her away and I will try to contain the damage here.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to with her?”

There was another pause at the other end of the line as Arlo flicked his eyes down at the screen then back up on the road ahead.

“You're close to bushland and the river. Get off the main road. Get her into that bushland. Finish her.”

The voice disconnected abruptly.

Arlo gulped in the confines of the cabin then winced in pain from the action.

“Damn it!”

As he wiped fresh blood from his upper lip he looked ahead, spying a major intersection approaching. Steeling himself, Arlo checked his mirrors. She was still there. As they closed the distance to the intersection, the lights changed to amber.

He was going to have to time this just right. Tapping the brake pedal, he slowed the car just enough and began to count backwards silently.

Casey saw Arlo's single remaining brake light wink. She reacted in anticipation as she saw the intersection looming.

As the traffic lights blinked amber, she looked down and spotted the flashing red and blue lights of a police pursuit car rushing towards the intersection from the opposite side.

“Oh shit!”

Arlo must have seen it too, for, as they swallowed up the last few metres of road, the BMW lurched to the left, sliding into the intersection as the traffic lights turned red. A white commercial van waiting to cross over entered the intersection, right into the path of the pursuit car.

Casey stomped on her brakes, shedding speed and spinning her wheel to avoid catastrophe. Arlo snaked back and forth, his rear tyres finding purchase as the BMW shot forward out of harm's way. The pursuit car collided sickeningly with the van while Casey's Volkswagen managed to corner the intersection, then it surged forward.

Casey grabbed her rear-vision mirror and looked into it, seeing the chaos behind her. Two more police vehicles had arrived at the intersection, while civilian traffic had banked up in all directions.

Slapping the mirror away, Casey grimaced and focused forward.

Arlo's BMW had shot ahead alarmingly, its sleek form rapidly shrinking. Dropping the VW back a gear, Casey gunned the engine and it whined in protest. She feared she would not be able to catch up to Arlo's high performance vehicle, but she had to try.

Ignoring the traffic, Arlo weaved recklessly in between cars and trucks, hugging the inner lane that flanked a median strip. Punching his horn and screaming at anyone who got in his way, the traffic had the good sense to clear out. However one such vehicle, a refrigerated commercial truck, appeared not to see him and stubbornly remained in his path. Arlo screamed in anger as he was forced to brake hard.

As Casey raced along, pushing her car to its limits, she saw Arlo's car wedged in behind the truck. She allowed herself a malevolent grin and pulled hard to her left until she drew alongside Arlo. She glanced through her side window at the BMW. His own tinted windows revealed nothing. Suddenly, a turn-off emerged up ahead and the truck pulled away to the right, opening up the lane in front of the BMW. It jerked forwards but Casey was prepared for it. She planted her foot and although she feared the VW's engine would explode from its mounts, she vowed she would not lose Arlo again.

The suburban landscape rushed past in a blur. The houses and shops and buildings on both sides seemed to close in on them as both cars leapt over frequent rises, issuing showers of sparks as they slapped down again. The traffic around them careened out of their way and sounded their horns in panic at the nightmare rushing past them.

Casey looked further ahead, noticing signs for the Eastern Freeway.

She hissed.

If Arlo made it to the freeway, he would be gone for sure.

She wrenched her steering wheel, slamming the Volkswagen into the side of Arlo's coupe, but he swerved clear. A median strip split the road in two and Arlo drifted across into the right-hand lane. Casey remained where she was, watching on in horror as he belted through oncoming traffic.

And then, suddenly, an overpass loomed ahead. The freeway entrance.

“Oh shit!” Casey hissed as Arlo's BMW swerved across from the extreme right-hand side, maintaining its crazed speed.

He's making for the entrance!

Reacting instinctively, Casey gunned the Volkswagen, putting herself between Arlo and the interchange.

Arlo slammed into Casey's side, crumpling the driver's side door inward and causing her airbag to deploy. Casey was flung sideways from the impact and her head struck the glass of the driver's side door hard that a thin crack opened up in it.

The world tilted before her, but she refused to succumb. Slapping the airbag away, she glared through the cracked glass and saw that her action had prevented Arlo from reaching his apparent goal. However, in a frightening squeal of metal and sparks, both cars careened up onto the overpass, neither one of them relenting as a dozen more vehicles rushed to get out of the way.