Relatively Strange (41 page)

“They don’t. Yet. But we’re coming from the right direction. I wonder …” Miss Peacock put her foot down and the van bucked, jerked and shot forward, gear box growling in protest. Ruth continued mildly,

“… if slowing down might have allayed suspicion.”

If the heightened tension sharpened fear, it also honed senses. In a car which, after an initial dropping back because of our turn of speed, was now having no trouble keeping up with us, were three men. I probed, didn’t recognise any of them but Ruth was right, it was us they were after and with some precise and unfriendly intentions. Miss Merry’s descriptions of both Sam and me were unsettlingly accurate, as were her instructions on how we were to be handled when they caught us – she’d obviously woken from her nap in a very snippy mood.

Of the three men in the car, two were employed by the private firm in charge of security at the Foundation. Before setting out, they’d endured a tersely swift but bitterly severe tongue lashing on the effectiveness of their service, the reliability of their guard dogs and the unlikelihood of their contract being renewed at Newcombe, or indeed anywhere else in the foreseeable future.

Accompanying them was a third man who, boasting a build to rival Ed’s, was a nurse, a long-standing friend, I immediately understood of Megan’s friend, John. As he held us solely responsible for John’s unfortunate and abrupt demise, he wasn’t full of the milk of human kindness either. All three of them, up to a certain point that evening, had been jogging evenly along life’s crazy paving, minding their own business, anticipating nothing more strenuous than the next tea break and a Chocolate Digestive. Now, in the space of a very short time, they’d found their necks, not to mention their livelihoods on the line. They were a pretty motivated car-full.

“Rachael?” If Ruth was concerned by her sister, hunched over the wheel, like a demented Stirling Moss she didn’t let it show. “Rachael,” she repeated calmly, “We’re not losing them. We daren’t lead them back to the cottage and Ed can’t take much more of this rattling around. We have to stop and deal.” “You think?”

“No option.”

“Main road’s not good. I’ll turn off”

“Right and Rachael – a little more braking? Couldn’t hurt.”

We skidded to a juddering stop, a little way into an industrial estate of low rise, unlit units. Sam woke with a whimper and in the sudden ticking stillness, my jaw finally unclenched itself and my teeth began to chatter. The pursuing car swerved round the corner at speed, saw us and stopped too. Nobody got out and then there was a sudden silence, the interwoven thoughts, fears and motivations of the three men, obliterated totally.

“Jamming devices.” Glory complained. “How rude!”

“No Sam,” If Miss Peacock’s voice and thought were soft, the warning behind them was unmistakable. He glared at her and we all felt the dangerous build of energy escalating within him again. Sam, having got this far, simply wasn’t prepared to be taken back. For a moment as their minds and eyes locked, it was as if there were only the two of them in the van.

“There’s always another way, Sam.” She was calm, as if the atmosphere wasn’t crackling with something barely leashed. He shut his eyes, shut her out. She went straight in after him and her rapped command, with complete authority and the certainty of obedience made us all jump. But it did the trick, the power spiral slowed reluctantly. He opened his eyes and looked at her and into her and she nodded briefly and definitely in confirmation.

“No, you’re not on your own any more. Trust me enough to leave it to us. Ruth?” Her sister grimaced, the three men were out of the car now, conferring and cautious. They’d obviously been told enough about us to be wary, I wondered exactly how much of the truth they knew.

Ruth shook her head,

“Can’t get inside. Damned ear-things.” she said, “Ed dear, I know you’re feeling dreadful, but could you possibly …?” Ed said nothing but I could feel him reaching past me, probing with that surprisingly delicate touch. Silent seconds passed. The three men, having consulted, split up, one security man heading for the back of our van, his colleague together with John’s friend, walking slowly to flank the driver and passenger doors. They each carried an obviously weighty, black cosh, although, I couldn’t help thinking, Dreck and Merry would surely be less than thrilled if we were delivered back with our brains bashed in. But perhaps coshes were only a precaution, they also had in their hands, small aerosol cans, similar to that used earlier on me. Sam’s quick thought confirmed,

“They use different ones. Some just hurt your eyes, some make you fall down.”

There was a sudden crash as Ruth’s window crazed then shattered inwards, she screamed softly, shielding herself from the glass. Cold wet air blasted in, along with a burst from an aerosol. Miss Peacock yanked her sister away, both from the spray and the grasping black-clad arm that shot through the window. Glory cursed and Sam slipped to the floor, hands over his head, huddling between the seats, making himself as small as possible. I wanted to reassure him, but really didn’t know how this was going to play out. Hamlet was barking wildly, shaking the van as he threw himself around in the back, fiercely or in fright was debatable. Only Ed was still and then there was a muted explosion. It rocked our vehicle, first to one side then the other, cotton-wooled our ears and reverberated deep inside our chests, as night turned to crimson day.

I could see only one man, from where I was sitting, the nurse who’d moved round to the driver’s door. His expression was a degree or two beyond dumbfounded. Various pieces of their car began to rain down on the roof of the van and from the amount of flinching and ducking, onto him too. What was left of their transport was now cheerfully blazing.

“Goodness Ed,” murmured Ruth, brushing glass from her hair, “I only meant get rid of their ear pieces. Still, this might be a good moment …? ” Miss Peacock nodded, started the van, spun a gravel-raising, several point turn, gave a wide berth to the burning vehicle and drew up briefly alongside the three men, gathered together now in a defensive small circle.

“We’re leaving,” she announced. “My advice? You should too. Fuel tank.” As we drew away, they were starting to run.

“You see Sam,” said Miss Peacock, “There are always options.” The second explosion didn’t come until we were back on the main road.

Chapter Forty-Seven

I wasn’t there when the ambulance arrived to take Ed, accompanied by Ruth, to hospital. I think the story was he’d fallen from a ladder although the reason they concocted, for him being up one in the middle of the night, now eludes me. But by the time they came to take him away, Sam and I had been dispatched summarily upstairs to get some sleep for what little remained of the night. Perversely though, once I’d had a regrettably cursory wash-down and collapsed into the bed beneath the warmth of the duvet, my mind wouldn’t stop whirling like a souped-up carousel.

I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I surfaced from a heated nightmare to a figure, small and silent, watching me. I shot up with a smothered shriek and he jumped convulsively.

“
Sam
? What is it?” I recalled, guiltily, I hadn’t really addressed more than a sentence or two to him during the course of our whole, ludicrously activity-packed evening. There’d been no introductions, no social niceties. In this strange world we were all a part of, things were very different, but there was no doubting, this was one bewildered small individual. I held out my hand to him and after a brief hesitation he took it and I noted we hadn’t got around to removing the leather straps. As he clambered into the bed next to me, I realised he wasn’t unaccompanied, but drew the line at Hamlet. Hygiene and my mother aside, there simply wasn’t room. Hamlet settled resignedly as close to the bed as he could get, Sam put ice cold feet on mine, stuck a thumb in his mouth and went instantly to sleep and the oddity and reality of him there, beside me, dismissed many of the nightmare images chasing round and round in my head.

When I woke, I was on my own again and sun was pouring through the curtains, creating shifting patterns on the wall. I was too lazy for a while to move, but picked up the fact that Ed and Ruth had been back a while. I knew also that Ed, who’d indeed sustained a compound fracture of the tibia, was ensconced on the sofa and that Sam and Hamlet were having a late breakfast. I was vaguely aware of the Misses Peacock and Glory, somewhere around the cottage but could sense no undue panic from anyone, so turned over and went back to sleep for a while.

My conscience eventually woke me. I had to phone home, goodness only knew what my parents were thinking. I eyed my battered face in the mirror, how on earth was I going to explain the enormous bruise on my cheek, result of my brief but intense encounter with Sam’s bed frame? There were, additionally, a wealth of other painful areas, indeed every joint ached, although I couldn’t imagine how I’d managed to upset all of them. I really didn’t think this physical stuff was quite me.

I dressed and made my way stiffly downstairs. Ed, massive on the sofa with his plastered leg on a footstool, acknowledged my entrance with his customary little head duck. I started to reiterate how grateful I was for his timely appearance in our hour of need but, aware of the sentiment before I opened my mouth, he was already starting to redden and didn’t want to hear. In the few seconds before he started a Nat King Cole selection, I understood just how hard he’d tried to be brave for Sam and me, how badly he thought he’d failed. I was filled with frustration too. How could he not see, if you weren’t hugely afraid you didn’t have to call on equally large resources of courage.

“Leave it.” Glory was curled in an armchair, “You’ll only upset him more.”

“But …”

“Leave it, I said, what makes you think you can do what the three of us can’t?” I subsided, she was probably right.

“
Probably
?” Always liked the last word did Glory. She’d celebrated the discarding of yesterday’s dark outfit with an electric blue kaftan and her gold hooped earrings glinted in the sun. I wondered idly what Ruth’s choice of the day would be, together she and Glory certainly made a fashion statement, I just wasn’t sure what it said.

Sam, seated quietly on the floor Hamlet by his side, was leaning against Ed’s footstool. They had a record-player and a radio on the coffee table in front of them and Ed had completely disembowelled both, mixing the resulting innards. He was now showing Sam some re-assembling. The blood-stained brown leather was finally gone from Sam’s wrist. He looked up at me, taking in the spreading multi-hued bruise on my cheek and, disconcertingly, assessing all the other ones over the rest of me. He knew exactly which ones were attributable to him and felt bad about it. I winked at him it seemed the right thing to do. We were, after all, battle-bloodied buddies. I don’t think a wink was something he’d ever seen before, but he instantly picked up on the brief movement and everything behind it. He winked solemnly, and with great concentration back.

Ruth and Rachael weren’t immediately in evidence, so I ambled into the kitchen, suddenly ravenous and got the kettle and toaster going. Last night seemed a world away yet appallingly close. But nonetheless, here I was busy with the most mundane of tasks, physically battered and bruised, granted, but otherwise not as troubled as I felt I should be. Odd how the unbelievable became so swiftly the accepted. As I bit into toast I was listening absently to Sam, mightily relieved to hear him totally occupied in what they were doing. If he had lingering nightmares or guilt about Megan and the others, it wasn’t showing.

“He has a child’s clear-sighted logic.” Ruth had come through the door leading up from the basement behind me. She was tastefully adorned in a blindingly bright, lemon sweater with what may or may not have been a green parrot on the front.

“Because of what he is, he knows, with absolute certainty, better than any of us perhaps, that Megan and the others, poor little souls …” For just a second her anger, white hot, shone through, “… were so irretrievably damaged, there was only one thing that could be done to help them and he did it. Children are very pragmatic, could teach us adults a thing or two.”

We both looked over at Sam, just as Ed raised his hand to point out a particular component flying back into the half assembled radio. We saw Sam automatically flinch then relax again. Ruth’s mouth tightened,

“They have,” she said grimly, “A great deal to answer for, our friends down the road.”

“So, now what? Who do we go to?” I was attacking a second jam-loaded slice.