London Under Midnight (14 page)

    'I told you not to touch me,' the man howled. 'Leave me alone! And why did you have to hurt her? What made you do that to her? She'd done nothing to you!'

    His entire body quivered; his grasp on Ben's arms possessed a strength generated by terror as much as anger. It lasted only an instant, then confusion flooded Trajan's face. He glanced sideways as if surprised to find himself at home. Ben noticed that a bloody patch leaked through the bandage at the back of his head. He took a deep, shuddering breath before he turned back to Ben. This time his eyes focused on Ben's face.

    'You best leave. I'm still not…' Trajan grimaced. 'I hurt my head.' He released Ben then stood back, tottering as he did so. This time he didn't resist when Ben led him to the sofa.

    'Sit down. I'll get you a drink.'

    'Get me a drink? No, you can get me April. That's what I want. April Connor. In this room. Now!' After that outburst he allowed Ben to help him sit down. 'Look. Just go away, okay?'

    'I'm staying until I hear what happened. April was my friend.'

    Trajan's eyes kept returning to the television, no doubt expecting to see news of April at any moment.

    'Trajan, please tell me what you know.'

    'What I know isn't worth knowing.' The man grimaced again. 'The police won't act. If anything they think we had an argument and April hit me before leaving. All I know is this. We were walking down by the river a couple of days ago. April met someone she knew.'

    'That would have been me.' Ben was mystified. 'Don't you remember me?'

    'That's the problem. The doctors tell me it's an effect of the head injury. They say short-term memory needs time to embed itself deep down in here.' He touched his temple. 'If you take a knock on the head it can wipe out memories before the attack took place.' His hands were shaking. 'I remember signing the contract on the new apartment, then a meal; after that we decided to walk along the embankment because the weather was so warm. I remember that perfectly because April pointed out a fox that was walking along the pavement with a pizza in its mouth. It didn't have a care in the world and we marvelled that a wild animal would come into the city to hunt for junk food. Then it gets hazy. April lunged at what I thought was a stranger - but it was you, uh, Mr-?'

    'Ben Ashton. Call me Ben.'

    'Ben.' He swallowed as if remembering new information made his head ache even more. 'We saw you, and I know she talked to you but I just can't recollect the words. Then we walked again.' His face darkened. 'We were beside the river. I know that. And I know there was a figure; it must have been a man - and this is where it gets all mixed up. There was something about him…' He paused, frowning.

    'You're sure it was a man?'

    'Male alright, but an exaggerated maleness. Something brutish about him. And I know he was doing something…' He rubbed his forehead. 'I don't know what. And I can't remember any details about him. All I can recall is his actions were shocking in some way… and there was a strangeness about him.'

    'Colour of hair? Clothes? Footwear?'

    'The police have been through that. All I could tell them was what I've just told you. The man must have attacked me then abducted April… but it's all a blank.' Once more his troubled eyes returned to the television that was showing a crane lifting steel beams above the river.

    'How's you memory now?'

    'I'm being interrogated by Ben Ashton. That good enough for you?'

    'You'd left your door open.'

    'Deliberate. I'm expecting the police. They're checking her mobile phone and bank card records.' He gave an unhappy shrug. 'See if they've been used since she disappeared.'

    'Then you can explain what you said to me a few minutes ago?'

    'Look, Mr Ashton, you can see I'm in no mood for questions.'

    'When you pushed me against the wall you said, "And why did you have to hurt her? She'd done nothing to you." What did you mean by that?'

    He couldn't have been more surprised if Ben had leaned across and jabbed a finger in his eye. 'I pushed you against the wall? No… I was unsteady on my feet; I might have brushed by you.'

    'You don't remember launching yourself at me? Or asking why I hurt her?'

    'Those were my words?' Trajan's eyes oozed both sorrow and pain. 'Oh, God.'

    Ben continued. 'Then you shouted this, "I told you not to touch me… and why did you have to hurt her… she's done nothing to you." '

    Trajan bit his lip; for a moment he appeared to be close to remembering, then he pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. 'No. It's not coming.'

    'Those words you used when I came into the room, might they be the ones you spoke when the man attacked you?'

    'How can I tell? Everything's been erased.' The bandage appeared to irritate him because he yanked it off. 'The next thing I remember was after I'd found my way into a taxi. Instead of taking me home, as I asked, the driver took me to hospital because blood was squirting out of my scalp. The doctors told me I had concussion. Then they glued the wound to seal it and moved me to the observation ward.'

    'You should go back to hospital.'

    'No!'

    'You really do love her, don't you?'

    'April? Of course I love her!' Anger returned to his blue eyes. 'It's crazy that the police think that she bashed me across the skull before running off with another man. Is that what you think?'

    Ben shook his head. 'April Connor is nearest thing to an angel you'll ever meet. She's amazing.' The moment he said the words he knew he couldn't maintain eye contact. He turned back to the television; more than anything in the world he longed to see the words: NEWSFLASH: LONDON WOMAN FOUND SAFE.

    Trajan had his own thoughts, too. 'You were good friends with April?'

    Ben smiled. 'Just good friends. But…' He shrugged. 'We were close. Lots of people thought we were in a relationship; even married; you know how people speculate. If you point me at the kitchen I'll make us both a drink.'

    The kitchen had that seasoned appearance that only comes with short-term rental properties. None of the cupboard doors fit flush to their frames; where the carpet wasn't worn it was stained. No wonder April and her number-one man had been celebrating the fact they'd signed for a new home. Again came that scalding surge of jealousy. Ben glanced through the door into the lounge as he lifted the kettle. Trajan sat with his elbow supported by the chair arm; the palm of his hand cradled his head as he kept his exhausted eyes on the TV. The man's blond hair was still matted with blood. Stubble covered his jaw. An air of helplessness surrounded him.

    Ben had taken an instinctive dislike to him when they first met. The way his blue eyes had stared at Ben as if he was nothing more than a scrap of paper blowing in the wind hadn't helped. But worse - far, far worse - is because Ben knew that April Connor was besotted with the handsome guy with the gold neck chains. And what's worse than that? Ben plugged in the kettle then took two mugs from a shelf. Even worse than knowing that the woman he desired shared that man's bed was the fact that Ben had done nothing to reveal his feelings to her when he had the chance.

    As he waited for the kettle to boil he glowered out of the window. Over the rooftops of Bloomsbury rose the classical structure of the British Museum. Contained within it were all those enduring testaments to humanity's achievements -ancient statues, Egyptian mummies, old manuscripts, hoards of gold coins, jewels, all kinds of treasures: all were safely guarded. He, Ben Ashton, had accidentally stumbled upon what he knew was the greatest treasure of his life: a lithe, good-humoured woman by the name of April Connor. Pure gold. And he'd gone to New York and carelessly let her slip through his fingers. Now he'd lost her. Not just to Trajan but perhaps to some tragedy.

    In the lounge Trajan groaned with both the pain in his head and the pain of losing April. Ben wanted to not only groan but snarl with anger as he remembered that carefree spell when he'd meet up with April three or four times a week. There were no pressures. They enjoyed meals together or visited pubs with friends. When he thought of her he saw that smile that seemed to permanently light up her face. Each time they met she was overjoyed at seeing him again. It was as if she'd missed him desperately, and all the time he took her lovely smile for granted. That's what he wanted to see now - the whole portfolio of smiles; the pleased-to-see-you smile; the smile as they laughed their way along the streets; the parting smile followed by a kiss on the cheek when they went their separate ways at the evening's end. Dear God. Back then he only had to call her. 'Fancy seeing that new film tonight?' Or: 'I've found this Greek restaurant just off Oxford Street. Feeling hungry?' He only had to ask her to meet him. The reply was always 'Yes!' Those weeks were filled with April's smiling face. He only had to stroll along Charing Cross Road and he'd bump into her as she hurried along, hugging document files to her chest. For three months April was everywhere. Sometimes he didn't have to lift a finger; a tap at the office door and there she would be. 'I was just passing with Jeff and Katrice and I thought I'd stick my nose round the door. Fancy a coffee?'
Yes, a thousand times yes.
Then he had to take that trip to New York. It was going to be little more than a few days. Even when the magazine there asked him to stay on for a while he took it for granted that he'd return to that social whirl with April happily at its centre. Only life back in London moved on. Ties got cut. He lost touch.

    'Idiot,' he fumed.

    As he crossed the floor to the boiling kettle he noticed Trajan stood in the kitchen doorway. His red-rimmed eyes fixed on him. He said nothing, merely stared like he'd never seen a guy make coffee before.

    Ben paused. 'Are you feeling okay?'

    Trajan glared. 'That night we met you on the embankment. It wasn't you who followed us and attacked us, was it?'

    'You are joking?'

    'Christ! You know I'm not bloody joking!' He slammed his fist against the door. 'You had the opportunity. Now with this past you had with April, how do I know you didn't have a motive?'

    'The only "past" was friendship… platonic, no-sex friendship. Got that?'

    Trajan pressed his lips together as a wave of pain surged through him. 'I've got to ask. The police are doing nothing, are they? They think this is just a tiff and she's jumped into bed with another man.' He pressed his hand to his temple.

    'Did they give you painkillers?'

    'I can't take those.'

    'Why not? You clearly need them.'

    'What I clearly
need
is to find April because nobody else is looking.'

    Ben spoke calmly, 'I will.'

    'What?'

    'I'll look for her.'

    'Why?'

    'Damn it, Trajan. She's a mate, a pal, the best bloody friend a man can have.'

    'I lost my memory,' he said. 'Same might have happened to her. We should visit the hospitals, ask if anyone's been admitted with amnesia, and we'll get posters copied with her photograph.' The guy was close to collapse. 'Another thing. You were close by. Did you see anyone that looked… I can't describe it, but there was something pumped about them. Too big; something out of proportion. You know?'

    'Trajan, sit down. I'll bring the coffee through then we can talk.'

    'I can talk right here.'

    'You look as if you're going to fall down, never mind talk.'

    The wounded man tottered back to the sofa.

    'Where did you put the painkillers?' Ben asked as he brought in the coffee.

    'I'm not having pills. I need to stay focused.'

    'You're not focused, pal. You're in agony.'

    'I'm fine.'

    'You're nowhere near fine. If you take some painkillers they'll relax you.'

    'Good God, I don't want to be relaxed. I should be out looking for April.'

    'You left the door open in case she just strolled back in, didn't you? Let's face it, that's as unlikely as you searching every street in London single-handed.'

    Again Trajan repeated, 'I'm fine.'

    'I'm going to get the painkillers. You're going to swallow them. Look, Trajan, if you're relaxed you might start to remember.' He took a deep breath. 'What you said, when you nearly rammed me through the wall, suggests that somewhere deep inside your head is the memory of what happened to you. If we can coax that out it's a start.'

    Trajan grimaced. 'Ben. My big sister is just about as bossy as you.' He gave a tired smile. 'Okay, painkillers, hypnotism, torture. I'll submit to anything as long as it brings April back.'

    Ben nodded. 'Me too.'

    

    

    The tide that sweeps up the River Thames is a colossal, fast moving pulse of water comprising billions of gallons. This time, in its cold grip, it carried April Connor. The white heat of hunger wouldn't allow her to consider her situation, or the radical departure from her old life, or even the fundamental questions.

    What had happened to her, exactly, when that monstrous figure attacked her on the embankment just a few nights ago? How come she hadn't drowned after he'd thrown her into the river? Why did she shrink from sunlight? Why were there people with those same bite marks marooned on the island? What made them insane with hunger? Why did she have no heartbeat?

    If Carter Vaughn had risen out of the depths and grabbed her by the shoulders as she floated there, as inert as a log beneath London Bridge, and uttered the words: 'We are vampires now', she wouldn't have been able to digest the statement. And if at that moment she looked into Carter's face with those soulful eyes that were full of compassion she would have only seen the veins lying just below the skin. Her entire being would have focused on the blood oozing through them. The rest of his flesh and his skeleton would have been nothing compared to the infinitely complex structure of capillaries, veins and arteries - all those beautiful vessels that transmitted the blood through his body.