Ritual. Part 18

'An apology, Mr McLean?'

'Last night I had a run-in outside Mrs Kemp's house with that a.s.sistant of yours, David.'

Cautiously, M. Musette said, 'So I understand. You weren't hurt, I hope?'

'A slight cut, but I think I can forgive him for that.'

'Did you ... see Mrs Kemp?'

'She wasn't at home,' Charlie lied. The last thing he wanted was for M. Musette to know that he had found Mrs Kemp's body. 'I stayed overnight at the Bethlehem Motel.'

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'You have my regrets,' said M. Musette. 'David can be impetuous. I think it was after he lost his hands, you know. He started to throw tantrums, and act rather violently. He's not altogether to be trusted.'

Charlie paused for a moment, and then he said, 'The fact of the matter is, M. Musette, that I began to wonder why I was fighting you. I sat in that motel and I bandaged up the cut that David gave me, and then I sat there and said to myself, "Charlie, these people are religious, they believe in happiness and goodness and the life everlasting." And do you know what else I said to myself?'

'Do continue, Mr McLean.'

'Well, M. Musette, I said to myself, "If my son has chosen the Celestines as the way to heaven, then perhaps there's something in it. Perhaps I've been the one who's been blind. Perhaps there really is something in all of this business, after all." Because what have I seen? Sights that have shocked me, sure, I have to admit. But a new way of looking at the word of the New Testament, and that's for sure. A new way of taking communion, the flesh and the blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ.'

'What are you trying to tell me, Mr McLean?' M. Musette asked him with unconcealed impatience.

'I'm trying to tell you, M. Musette, that I've been saved. I'm trying to tell you that I've seen the light. Your way is the only way, and I don't want my son to go to heaven without me. I want to go with him. d.a.m.n it, M. Musette, I want to volunteer.'

M. Musette was silent for what seemed like five or ten minutes. After a while, however, he said, 'I find it very hard to trust you, Mr McLean. You have been nothing but hostile ever since I first met you. I am inclined to think that you are feigning this sudden enthusiasm in the Celestines in order to gain access to your son.'

'M. Musette, my son can make his own decisions. If he 188.

wants to dedicate his life to the Celestines then that's all right by me.'

'You are singing a different song, Mr McLean.'

'That's the nature of religious conversions, M. Musette. Suddenly, you see the light. Saul did that, didn't he?'

There was another long pause, and then M. Musette said, 'Wait there. I'll send my security guard to open the gate. But, please - remember that you are on your honour to conduct yourself with propriety.'

Propriety, thought Charlie, with bitterness. You can talk to me about propriety after slaughtering Mrs Kemp?

The intercom clicked off, and Charlie was left waiting in the wind. The dry trees rustled like the voices of gossiping ghosts. There was a smell of smoke in the air, smoke and fall and sadness.

Eventually, a black Chrysler appeared between the maculata bushes, and the thin youth with the close-cropped hair and the Buddy Holly suit climbed out and unlocked the gates.

'Mr McLean?' he said, in a nasal voice. 'Drive your vehicle slowly down to the house. I'll be following right behind. And, please, no faster than ten miles an hour.'

They drove at a crawl down to the gravelled turning-circle in front of Le Reposoir. Robyn looked at the house in amazement. 'You know something, I never even knew this place existed, and I was brought up around here."

M. Musette was waiting for them in the doorway. 'All we need now is speed,' said Charlie. 'We walk straight up to him, push him aside, and then go straight up the stairs to the corridor where all the new Devotees go. I know which room they're keeping Martin in. We force our way in, take one arm each, and frogmarch him out of there. Bob, you take his left arm, I'll take his right. That way, I can have a hand free to hold the gun.'

'You realize Musette is going to recognize me straight away,' said Bob.

'Just keep cool. Speed, and surprise, that's what we need. Robyn - as soon as we're inside, you turn the car around and get ready to burn rubber.'

'I'm terrified,' said Robyn.

Charlie reached across and squeezed her hand. 'It's going to work like a charm, just so long as none of us loses our nerve.'

'A charm, he says.'

'We're all right so far,' said Charlie. 'I mean, we got in here, didn't we? And they didn't close the gates behind us. That was one thing I was afraid of.'

The thin youth came up and tapped on the window. 'Will you follow me, please?'

Charlie glanced tensely at Robyn, and then at Bob. He had been so busy rea.s.suring them that he hadn't realized how tightly his own nerves were wound up. He gave the youth a salute of acknowledgement and climbed out of the car. Bob followed close behind him, keeping his face to the ground so that M. Musette wouldn't recognize him until it was too late.

M. Musette extended his hand as Charlie came up the steps. Charlie's heart seemed to have leaped up and caught itself on one of his ribs. He was breathing in short, shallow gasps. He could feel the weight of the .45 in his inside coat pocket, and he was sure that M. Musette could see it bulging out.

'Well, Mr McLean,' M. Musette greeted him with a diagonal smile. 'Perhaps I can congratulate you on your conversion.'

Charlie's mind snapped into overdrive. He swung his left shoulder forward and knocked M. Musette sideways. He felt M. Musette's collarbone jar against his arm. Then he was running across the hallway with Bob right behind him. As he reached the foot of the stairs he heard M. Musette shouting, 'Harold! Haroldl Lock off the upstairs landing!'

Charlie turned around, tugging the .45 out of his coat, and 190.

tearing the lining as he did so. He pointed it directly at M. Musette and yelled at him, 'You try to stop me, and I'll blow your head off!'

'It's no use, Mr McLean!' M. Musette replied. 'You can't get away with it! Martin is out of your reach now! You can only get him back by killing us all!'

'If that's what it takes,' said Charlie. 'Come on, Bob!'

Together, they climbed the stairs. They crossed the landing, but when they reached the door which led to the corridor where the new Devotees were kept, they found that it was locked. Charlie wrenched at the handle, but the door was solid steel, and he couldn't budge it.

'What are you going to do?' Bob asked him.

'Musette,' Charlie replied fiercely. He ran back downstairs, but M. Musette had disappeared. He went out through the door. Apart from Robyn waiting in the car, the grounds were deserted. Bob said, 'They've locked it all up and left us to it.'

'Round the back,' said Charlie.

They ran around the side of the house to the garden door which Charlie had used to enter the house the first time. That, too, was locked. Charlie c.o.c.ked the .45 and pointed it at the lock, but Bob said, 'Forget it, that only works in movies. You'll probably end up with a ricochet right between the eyes.'

'G.o.d d.a.m.n it, how do we get in?' Charlie raged.

He ran back to the front door, back up the steps, and back inside. He tried a downstairs door but that was locked too. Solid oak, with a five-lever lock. He kicked at it, but it didn't even rattle. He turned back to Bob in anger and frustration.

'I've blown it, d.a.m.n it! I should have taken Musette hostage!'

'We'd better just get out of here,' said Bob. 'Let's go back and work out some other way of getting in.'

Charlie was almost in tears. His vision of bursting into Martin's room and dragging him out had been foiled by the 191.

simplest expedient of all. M. Musette had done nothing more than lock his doors and disappear, so that he could neither be reached nor threatened.

'Come on,' said Bob, taking hold of his arm. 'This is one of those times when discretion is the better part of valour.'

Charlie looked up at the florid Victorian stained-gla.s.s window at the head of the stairs. It depicted Sir Gawain on his way to do battle with the Green Knight, a brightly coloured scene of valleys and lakes and bulrushes. Charlie lifted the .45 and fired at the window. There was a deafening, echoing bang. Charlie had never fired such a heavy calibre handgun before, and his arm was painfully jarred. All that he succeeded in doing was blowing out one small pane of blue gla.s.s. Bob looked at him, and said, 'Are you satisfied now?'

'I'm going to get my son back if it kills me,' said Charlie.

He left the house, and walked down the steps. They were probably being covered by guns from M. Musette's security men, but Charlie didn't care. He stood at the bottom of the steps and shouted out. 'M. Musette! If you hurt my son, it's going to be your head next time, not just your window!'

There was no reply. The ravens croaked amongst the rooftops, the trees shushed and rustled like the sea. Bob climbed back into the car and Charlie followed him.

Robyn said, 'What happened?'

'They locked the doors. Come on, we'd better get out of here.'

'I'm sorry,' said Robyn. 'I'm really sorry.'

They drove back to the gates, and exited on to the Quas-sapaug Road. As they did so, however, a huge Mack truck appeared, as suddenly as a nightmare, bellowing down the hill from the direction of Bethlehem. Charlie yelled, 'Go!' and Robyn slammed her foot down on the gas so that the Cobra slithered away from Le Reposoir with a shriek of tyres and a cloud of dust and rubber smoke.

Charlie twisted around in his seat. The truck's front grille 192.

filled up the entire rear window. Robyn kept her foot hard on the gas, steering the Cobra from one side of the road to the other as she negotiated one curve after another. But the truck held on, tailgating them only two or three feet away. As they reached the corkscrew curve that would take them to Alien's Corners, the truck b.u.mped them in the back, and Robyn juggled frantically with the steering wheel as she momentarily lost control.

They slid round the corkscrew with their tyres screaming like strangled cats. Their offside rear wheel jolted against a large stone at the side of the road, and then they were sliding sideways the opposite way. The truck barged them again and again. Charlie heard gla.s.s and metal grind, and the wfiup-whup-whup of something sc.r.a.ping against one of the rear wheels.

The truck shunted right up close to them, and as they came out of the corkscrew it was actually pushing them along, madly, uncontrollably, like a roller-coaster. Robyn cried out, 'Charlie! I can't hold it!' and then Charlie saw a row of trees rushing at them and the Cobra hurtled right off the edge of the road, flying for nearly twenty feet clear through the air. It collided with two ma.s.sive pines with a noise like a bomb going off. Charlie was thrown violently against the glove compartment, his head hitting the windshield, and something burst over the top of him and gla.s.s exploded.

Behind them, the truck bellowed around the corner and out of sight.

Charlie tried to sit up. Robyn was sitting with her head slumped forward but she was wearing her seat belt and he could see that she had been only jolted and shocked. There was a large red bruise on the left side of her forehead, but otherwise she looked all right. It was only after he had looked at Robyn, however, that he realized what had hurtled over him when they hit the trees. Bob - fired out of the back seat and through the windshield. The whole of the upper part of 193.

his body had gone through the laminated gla.s.s, and he now lay face down on the Cobra's hood, amidst a slush of broken gla.s.s. Blood ran slickly across the metal.

Charlie managed to kick the pa.s.senger door open, and heave himself out of the wrecked car. There was a strong smell of petrol, but there didn't seem to be any immediate danger of fire. He walked around to the driver's door and tugged it open after three or four strenuous yanks. Robyn was just coming round, and she stared at him with widely-dilated pupils. 'Charlie?' she asked him, her voice slurred. 'Charlie, what happened?'

He unfastened her seat belt and helped her out of the car. She said, 'Bob - is Bob all right?' but Charlie wouldn't let her turn around and look. He guided her back up the slope to the side of the road and made her sit down on a rock. 'Give me a minute, okay?' he told her. 'Bob's been hurt pretty bad.'

He went back down to the car. He had been almost sure that Bob was dead, but as he approached he heard him groaning. He came up close and said, 'Bob? Bob, it's Charlie. How do you feel?'

Bob raised his head from the hood of the car, and Charlie could see what had happened to him. The broken windshield had caught his forehead as he had hurtled through it, and sheared the skin off his face, from his eyebrows right down to his chin. He stared at Charlie with one white swivelling eyeball set in a livid oval of scarlet. His teeth snarled b.l.o.o.d.y and bare, without lips or gums. What was left of his face hung from his jaw in fatty folds, his cheeks, his nose, and his chin - as if his features had been nothing more than a latex Hallowe'en mask which had suddenly been ripped from his head.

Extraordinarily - and terribly - he was still conscious.

Charlie said, 'Bob? Bob, can you hear me?'

Bob nodded, and his eyeball turned and glistened.

'I'm going for an ambulance, Bob. You'll just have to stay where you are for a minute or two.'

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Bob tried to say something but his mouth had been too badly mutilated for him to do anything but grunt and gargle.

Charlie clambered back up the rocks to the road. Robyn was still sitting there, white-faced and tearful. 'I couldn't hold it,' she sobbed. 'I tried so hard, but I couldn't.'

'We have to call an ambulance,' said Charlie. He felt weak at the knees and almost on the point of collapse. The day seemed to crowd in on him as if the clouds were determined to press him down into the ground and the trees all around him were trying to entangle him and choke him.

'Is Bob badly hurt?' asked Robyn.

'As bad as anybody I've ever seen.'

'It looks like there, might be a house down there,' said Robyn, pointing further downhill. Charlie peered through the trees and he thought that he could make out the angular grey gable of a house or a barn.

'I guess it's worth a try,' he told her. 'Why don't you stay here, just in case somebody drives past, and you can flag them down?'

'What if that truck comes back?'

Charlie wiped the chilly sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. 'I don't know. He was deliberately trying to run us off the road, wasn't he?'

Robyn held his arm. 'Don't worry about it. I'll duck down and hide if I see it. You go call that ambulance.'

Charlie began to jog down the hill. He had only gone about a couple of hundred feet however, when he heard a bursting, crackling roar from the hollow where the Cobra had crashed. He turned around and saw an orange fireball roll up from the trees and vanish like a conjuring trick. The car was already blazing from end to end.

He ran slopewise through the whiplashing bushes and the drifts of dried leaves. By the time he reached the car it was too late for him to do anything at all. The flames were so fierce that he couldn't get within twenty feet. He couldn't see Bob at all.

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Robyn came running down the hill to stand beside him. They stood together, helplessly watching the fire gradually die down, leaving a hulk of an automobile burned brown and rainbow mottled. Bob's body still lay on the hood, but it had charred and shrunk into a little black figure no larger than a nine-year-old child. Charlie could see white bones gleaming through charcoal flesh. He could see something else, too, although he didn't mention it to Robyn. The metallic shine of a cigarette lighter, tightly clasped in Bob's burned-up hand. He must have ignited the car's leaking gasoline himself.

'We'd better get out of here,' said Charlie. 'There's nothing we can do now.'

'We can tell the police, can't we?'

'I'm not so sure that's a good idea.'

'But we can't just walk away!' Robyn protested.

'I think we can,' said Charlie. 'In fact, I don't think we have any other alternative. Not if we want to stay alive ourselves. That truck was waiting for us. I told you what the sheriff and Mr Haxalt told me: M. Musette doesn't suffer trespa.s.sers gladly.' 'I have to get to a phone,' said Robyn. j 'What? To call your office? Come on, Robyn, think about it. If the Celestines have as much of a hold on the media as j they appear to, then the best thing we can do is disappear for a I while, try to work this out undercover.'

'Do you really think they were trying to kill us? Maybe that truck just had brake failure.'

'Brake failure my rear end. They want us dead. And they've succeeded with Bob, haven't they? A poor uncomplicated guy who was only trying to help me out.'

Robyn was shaking. They were both so shocked by what had happened that neither of them really knew what they were talking about. At least bickering seemed to be real.

'We can cut across country,' said Robyn. 'If we keep on 196.

going downhill, we'll get to the Qua.s.sapaug River. Then we can follow it all the way down to Alien's Corners. That way, n.o.body will see us.'