The front doors opened and two men got out. They were both wearing khaki-colored raincoats, belts cinched tight at the waist. Neckties knotted like clenched fists sat beneath their white dress collars. Laika didn't know who they worked for, but they looked like pros. Then the man on the passenger side opened the back door, and Richard Skye stepped out.
He gave the drizzling sky a disapproving glance and then offered Laika and Tony his usual unenthusiastic smile. There was not enough effort in it to label it insincere. "Agent Harris, Agent Luciano," he said, with a curt nod to each.
"Good evening, sir," Laika said, her heart racing as she wondered what the man was doing there. "Will you come inside?"
She turned and led the way, and the others followed. Tony came up next to her, looking mildly panicked, but she quickly shook her head, telling him not to say a word. This was hers to handle, whatever it might be.
Once inside, Skye introduced the two men as Agents Finch and Weyrman. Finch was slightly taller, and Weyrman's features were more regular, but other than that Laika didn't see any more difference between them than two dogs from the same litter.
Tony served them all coffee, and after they had discussed the weather and the landscape, Skye asked Finch and Weyrman if they would mind going out to the car while he discussed "some matters" with Agents Harris and Luciano. They took a cup of coffee each, and left with brief nods. Laika was sure they were packing under the raincoats, which they had not removed.
"Now," said Skye when they were alone, "you're undoubtedly wondering why I came all the way over here rather than using other methods of communication. It's simply because I've put two and two together and come up with four, or at least what
appears
to be four. It's not so much the so-called ghostly appearances in this area that have piqued my interest as it is these prison escapes I asked you to look into, with your very limited resources. I received this photograph from MI5 the other day, asking if my people could identify the gentleman."
He passed Laika a black-and-white laser-printed image of Joseph Stein. Laika could see that he was subtly twisting his features, doing his best to preserve his identity.
"Try as he might to make silly faces," Skye said, "I couldn't help but recognize Agent Stein. But no sooner had I received this photograph, to which, by the way, I made no reply, than the news came that this unknown prisoner had also miraculously escaped. Now, from every official report I've seen, and from those we've intercepted, there is every reason to believe that these prisoners, including Agent Stein, actually passed through solid walls, along with their liberator, in order to escape.
"What's more, it's obvious that these terrorists were freed for the sole purpose of carrying out the six bombings that just took place. So, along with the odd method of escape that is most definitely deserving of direct investigation, I also find that one of my field agents may be somehow involved with the worst terrorist attack ever to strike one of our country's staunchest allies. So my first question, and my only question for now—what do you know of Agent Stein's whereabouts?"
"Nothing," Laika said. "We haven't heard a thing from him, but we're confident that he'll contact us as soon as the opportunity arises."
"If it does," Skye said. "At any rate, I trust that you now understand the reasons for my presence. Now. I've lodged Agents Finch and Weyrman in the town, but since there is an extra bedroom here, I shall be staying with you. It's been a very long day. I was among the many people at Langley who got no sleep last night, and I'd like to regain some alertness before we discuss these matters further."
At Skye's direction, Finch and Weyrman brought in a small suitcase, a laptop computer, and Skye's briefcase, then drove back toward Gairloch. Laika showed Skye the remaining room, and offered him the larger one that she was using, but he declined, saying the smaller room would be sufficient, since all he intended to do was sleep in it.
After getting Skye settled in, Laika rejoined Tony downstairs. She hesitated to say anything, not knowing how much Skye could overhear from upstairs, should he be listening. Tony had only one comment to make, and he did so just loud enough for Laika to hear:
"If Joseph knows what's good for him, he'll just stay wherever he is."
J
oseph had learned to sleep with the light on a long time before. The naked overhead bulb proved no impediment to his slumbers, but the light made him sleep just lightly enough to be awakened by the sound of the trapdoor opening twenty feet above.
He didn't move at first, wondering what it meant. Were they bringing him a meal? Or were they going to kill him? The possibility of both life and death were very real for a hostage held by terrorists, which was after all exactly what he was.
The ladder came down, and Mulcifer scuttled swiftly down it, turning and smiling at Joseph as his feet landed lightly on the stone floor. Joseph didn't know whether to feel relieved or frightened. "Pretty pedestrian entrance," he said. "So why didn't you vaporize yourself and drift through the trapdoor and down to me?"
"The law of conservation of energy rules us all, Joseph. I perform only when necessary. I've already impressed you enough, haven't I? Besides, there's something I need you to do for me."
"What? Walk into Parliament wearing dynamite sticks strapped to my ass?"
"News travels fast, I see." Mulcifer didn't lean against the wall, or make any move to relax. He simply stood there, arms at his side, as if it were the most comfortable position imaginable. The creature's lack of humanity, in this and so many other things, was disconcerting.
"No," Mulcifer went on, "I don't want you to do anything like that for me. Your goal is much closer to home. You see, Joseph, your mind is like an open book to me. When I care to turn the pages, I know pretty much what you know. I know what you and your two colleagues have learned about me, and I know that your connection to the CIA is among the greatest risks and dangers that I face. I know that you know my weakness, and there are few who do. Therefore, I've decided to eliminate you all."
It was the casualness with which he said it that chilled Joseph most, but he tried to disguise his fear. "That comes as no surprise. I never thought I'd get out of this castle alive. So are you going to do it, or have one of your flunkies do the deed?"
"One of my flunkies, I believe. And you're wrong—you
are
going to get out of here alive. Only you won't be alive for long." Mulcifer reached behind him and drew out a small automatic pistol. "It may not look like much," he said, "but it will get the job done. When you get back to your cottage, I want you to act perfectly natural, like the prodigal returned, glad to see them and be seen, and as soon as you have the opportunity, I want you to first kill Agent Luciano, and then Agent Harris. Then I want you to turn the gun on yourself.
"Shoot yourself in the abdomen first, six inches below the sternum. That should provide a nice, slow, bleeding wound that will eventually kill you. Keep the pistol in your hand, but shoot yourself in the head only if someone else comes in." He held out the pistol to Joseph. "That about covers it. It's got a full clip, so if you happen to miss your friends the first time, keep shooting."
Joseph reached out and took the pistol, but not for the purpose of assassinating his friends. He had no intention of doing anything that Mulcifer had just told him. Instead he jacked the slide, putting a round into the chamber, and turned the muzzle toward Mulcifer. The hammer was raised, the gun ready to fire. "Lead's your weakness," he said. "How about lead bullets?"
"They sting a bit. They're merely projectiles, though. You'd have to have a bullet that would expand to my size and wrap entirely around me for it to do any good. Besides, even if it could harm me, you won't be able to pull the trigger, because I don't want you to. I won't even use that usual villainous bravado and ask you to try. There's no point in wasting bullets. And this way you'll think it's your own choice not to fire. Then you can still maintain the illusion that once you get away from me, your own will can be strong enough to dismiss my order. But it won't be, despite your feelings to the contrary. Those are merely emotions. What I'm dealing with is science."
"You are so full of shit," Joseph said through clenched teeth.
"And you are so full of
me
," Mulcifer said. "But if it comforts you to think, 'Out of sight, out of mind,' go ahead. It doesn't matter what you think. All that matters is what I've put in there." He pointed to Joseph's head.
"Whatever you've put in," Joseph said, "it's not going to stay for long. You can't make me kill my friends. You can't make me kill myself. I have my own will. I'll fight you and I'll win." Then he paused for a moment, his mind whirling with thoughts and strategies. "That's why you're telling me all this, isn't it? Just to implant the idea, to make me think that it's inevitable, when it's nothing of the sort."
"No, I'm telling you because it doesn't matter at all what you think. Thinking has nothing to do with it. You are water. I am heat. With enough heat, water will boil. The water's wish
not
to boil doesn't enter into it. Water has no will. It responds when acted upon."
"You go to hell," Joseph said, his finger trembling on the trigger. But he knew that if he pulled it, nothing would happen.
"I'm tired of talk," Mulcifer said. "It's such a primitive, imperfect method of communication." He turned to the ladder and climbed up it quickly. Joseph watched him go, the gun still clenched in his fist. He waited to see if the ladder would be pulled up, but it was not. Then he lowered the gun and tried to think.
Despite what Mulcifer had said, Joseph knew that he was incapable of turning on Laika and Tony. They had become far more than colleagues. The experiences they had gone through and the secrets they had shared had bonded them together like family. Maybe it was a family that had its little spats and disagreements, but it was a family nonetheless. He would no sooner harm them than he would have killed his own mother or father.
He knew that Mulcifer had been responsible for turning other people against their friends, and even their loved ones. But Joseph refused to believe that the same could be done to him. He was not other people, he was Joseph Stein, and his will was his own. No shoddy hypnotist, even if he did have powers beyond Joseph's comprehension, was going to tell him to hurt his friends and get away with it.
No, Mulcifer wouldn't get away with it at all. Joseph would return to Laika and Tony, tell them everything that had happened, and then they would bring down the might of the whole goddamned British army on the bastard, maybe the whole might of NATO, for that matter. They'd drop so many shells on the castle that Mulcifer would be
covered
with lead, if that was the only way to take him down. "You want lead, I'll give you lead," Joseph whispered, and started to climb the ladder.
But he stopped just before he stuck his head through the trapdoor. What if the spooky bastard had been lying? What if it had all been a setup just to get him killed, and Mackay's men were waiting above with drawn guns? Mulcifer liked his little games.
Hell, he thought, what if they were? Better to die clean trying to escape than stay down in that pit any longer. Besides, despite his paranoia, Joseph thought Mulcifer had been telling the truth, at least about what he wanted Joseph to do.
The arrogance of the creature was even greater than its powers, and this was one time that its hubris was going to prove stronger than its ability to deliver the goods.
Even though Joseph had expected to see Mulcifer at the top of the ladder, watching him beatifically, no one was there. His pistol at the ready, Joseph left the guardhouse and scuttled through the inner ward to the gatehouse. He didn't want to take the chance of being spotted from the castle, so instead of going through and up the drive to the road that would take him back to the cottage, he hugged the castle wall until he reached the steep stairway, and descended it carefully down to the stony beach.
The rain had stopped, and he started southward on the several-mile walk to the cottage. But he had gone only a hundred yards when he stopped and considered the possibilities.
Though he had no doubt of his ability to disobey Mulcifer when it came to harming his friends, he realized that he had had no doubt that he would be able to disobey him regarding accessing the information from the data banks. True, as he had told Mackay, there was a difference between hitting keys on a computer and pulling a trigger, but just the same, why take chances?
He looked down at the pistol in his hand, and then turned toward the Minch. He drew back his arm, intending to throw it far out into the water, but stopped just as his arm was about to snap forward. He suddenly felt as though the gun was a part of his body, and that to try and throw it away would be like trying to throw away his fingers—silly, absurd, unheard of.