‘No. I suppose not.’ I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting to the basement door. It was wide open. If Mather made a habit of pulling it shut every time he had finished down there, he’d notice the difference. I tried to focus on him, worried that if he saw where my attention was wandering, his suspicions would be confirmed.
I made a show of strolling around the room and looking at the tanks and scientific equipment, always ensuring I knew exactly where Mather was. On more than one occasion I caught him looking down at the debris covering the floor. What the hell was he searching for? Something he’d lost? I heard the sound of something scraping on glass and, to my left, saw Mr Hopkins pawing at a window. He seemed to register the fact that I’d noticed him and stopped scratching. At least someone was watching over me.
When I turned back to Mather, I caught him staring thoughtfully at the door to the basement. I switched my gaze to one of the damaged tanks so he wouldn’t know that I’d seen him. In that moment all doubt left my mind. He knew what I’d been up to. He knew I’d discovered his foul secret. The question was, what was he going to do about it? Or, perhaps more importantly, what was
I
going to do about it? The latter was an easy question to answer. There was no way for me to get off the island without Mather’s boat. Even if my phone hadn’t been dead, I’d have had to get away from Mather to use it. He knew the island a lot better than I did. He could track me down in minutes. Again I prayed that Gina was doing something – anything – to send help. My sense of self-preservation was now all-consuming. The story no longer mattered: it could go to another journalist, or it could go to hell – I really didn’t care.
My only concern now was to get myself off the island and back to civilization. In order to get hold of Mather’s boat I would have to prise the lock off the boathouse door, which would be no easy task. To stand any chance of succeeding, Mather would have to be incapacitated. There was no escaping it: I would have to put him out of action. Running away was simply not an option. He’d have to be stunned and preferably tied up as well. I dreaded doing it, but I had no choice. I was roused from my thoughts by Mather’s voice.
‘Mr Reeves! Come here, I want to show you something.’
Oh God
, I thought.
Here we go
. I walked over to him, my nerves jangling inside me. I felt as if I were going to explode. Mather didn’t seem to find anything unusual in my behaviour. Or if he did, he chose to ignore it.
‘These stairs lead down to the basement.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Mmm. I believe that all the really interesting research was conducted down there.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Typical, I suppose, that all the best stuff is hidden away.’
‘Yes.’
‘Shall we take a look?’
‘Well . . .’
‘Wouldn’t you like to see what they were hiding?’
‘Er, where does that door opposite lead to?’
‘Oh, that’s just the staffroom. Nothing of any interest there.’
‘Oh I see.’
‘Are you all right, Mr Reeves?’
‘Mmm? Yes, I’m fine.’
‘You look a little pale.’
‘No, no, I’m fine.’
‘Well then, the basement awaits. Would you like to lead the way?’
‘No.’
God no!
‘No?’
‘Well, I mean, you’ve been here before. I might bump into something. It looks pretty dark down there.’
‘Oh my, yes. I’d forgotten, the lights are out of action. Don’t worry, my torch is here somewhere. I left it behind last time.’
Left it behind last time? You said you hadn’t been here for years!
Either Mather really was toying with me, or he was getting forgetful and revealing his lies without even knowing it. He gazed around the hall, scratching his head pointlessly.
‘I must have left it in the store cupboard.’ I wished I’d searched the store cupboard earlier. The torch would have saved me from relying on my camera flash and the lamps for light.
Mather went through the opposite door, and I soon heard him moving objects around, searching for the torch. My survival instinct took over. I looked quickly at the doors around me, trying to gauge which would be the best escape route. But Mather reappeared quicker than expected, a tiny Maglite in his hand. It was barely larger than a pen, and clearly insufficient for complete darkness. I was filled with dread. Going down into the gloom with Mather and only a pitiful beam of light for company was the most terrifying prospect I’d ever faced.
‘It doesn’t really matter,’ I assured him. ‘I’m sure it’s very interesting but—’
‘Oh, it is. Don’t worry, it may look treacherous, but I know my way.’ He grinned and winked. ‘Follow me.’ He entered the stairwell and took to the steps, holding the Maglite close to his right ear, pointing it down at an angle.
I hesitated. The basement was the last place on earth I wanted to go. Too late the thought occurred to me that I could have pushed him down those stone steps and maybe wedged the door to stop him getting out. The fall might have broken his neck, or at the very least knocked him out for a while. But when at last I moved into the doorway, he was practically at the bottom. Now the opportunity was gone, and I had no way of knowing if I’d get another. I didn’t want to kill Mather, but if it was the only way out, I would have to do it.
I went down the stairs, moving slowly, keeping him in view the whole time. When I reached the bottom, he made a show of brushing the light across all the walls of the room, exposing the unremarkable rubbish I’d seen already.
‘Ah, er . . .’ Something seemed to be missing. Mather was waving the light about, looking in vain for some object that wasn’t where it should be.
‘What’s wrong?’
He shone the torch directly at me, blinding me and sending me into a sudden panic. In that split second I was unable to see anything but the brilliant light from the torch. He could have chosen that moment to do anything.
‘Oh, sorry.’ He moved the light down, out of my eyes. ‘I’m sure there was an old oil lamp and some matches down here somewhere.’
I had the distinct feeling that below the surface Mather was enjoying himself and relishing the control he exerted. But his unshakeable confidence was a constant surprise. Why could he not see me as even a small threat? If I hadn’t been so scared I’d have felt insulted.
‘Well, I suppose we’ll have to manage,’ he said, looking a little put out. ‘I think this used to be a storeroom of some kind. Not much left, as you can see. I presume the staff members ransacked the place before they left. Took whatever they fancied. It’s through there that all the top-secret work was done.’ He turned, shining the light into the doorway leading to what I now suspected was his operating theatre. ‘Not much left to see, I’m afraid, but enough to get a good idea of what went on.’ He walked ahead, stooping slightly, as though expecting the doorway to be lower than it was.
Walking a few paces into the room, he stopped, pointed the light downwards and started examining the floor. I moved up behind him, and by the light of the torch I could see that there were a number of deep, distinctive footprints leading to and from the lip of the doorway.
Oh shit
, I thought.
Shit, shit, shit!
He turned to me and smiled. ‘I tend to be a little more careful where I walk when I’m down here, Mr Reeves.’
I couldn’t smile back. He shone the light towards the lip of the pit, then quickly back at me. Still he was calm, confident, in complete control. I stood there, momentarily paralysed with fear. My tongue was fixed, my lips set. Even if I’d thought of something to do, I couldn’t have done it just then. The terror was all-consuming.
Although the floor near the edge of the pit was relatively dry, we could both see clear signs of disturbance. I also noticed the odd smear of red on my boots and the legs of my trousers.
I’ve made it so easy for you, haven’t I?
‘Sorry?’
I’d spoken the words completely involuntarily. But it seemed as if I had no will any more. ‘Nothing.’
‘I see. It must have been quite a shock for you.’
‘What?’
‘You fell, didn’t you? Into the pit?’
Many seconds passed before I could answer. ‘Yes.’
‘Rather careless.’
‘Yes. I was surprised.’
‘I’ll bet you were.’
‘No. I mean, I heard something moving behind me and I lost my balance.’
‘Moving? Who?’ He sounded worried all of a sudden. What did he mean by ‘who’? There were only two of us on the island. Was he afraid that I hadn’t come alone? Or did he think that some other visitor was on the island, moving about without his knowledge. Perhaps I could have benefited from lying to him at that point. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the chance to find out. I only had enough energy, it seemed, for the truth.
‘The cat . . . Mr Hopkins.’
‘Oh.’ This calmed him somewhat. ‘That filthy creature. If only you’d done me the courtesy of wringing its scrawny little neck.’
I couldn’t think why he was so disgusted by the poor animal. Then, in a sudden movement, Mather pulled a small but cruelly sharp dagger from the waistband of his trousers. My stomach felt as if it was folding in on itself. I expected to be sick, but was thankfully spared the ordeal.
He held the strange, curving blade between us, but continued talking, as though it wasn’t even there. ‘The number of times that foul pest has disturbed my work. It’s as though he was put on this island to make my life a misery.’ Mather’s eyes darted about the room, as if seeking the feline troublemaker. He took a few deep breaths, then seemed to calm down.
‘Ah well. He’ll get his comeuppance soon enough. I’ll see to that. Now then,’ he said, spotting a lamp on the floor. ‘Let us shed a little light on the subject.’ He lifted it up and placed it on the blood-stained table. Taking a box of matches from one pocket, he set about lighting the old lamp, gripping the Maglite between his teeth and pushing the dagger back under his belt. With some fiddling, he managed to strike a match and ignite the oil. When the flame had grown a little, he lifted it up and hung it from a hook in the ceiling.
‘That’s better.’ It was still fairly gloomy, but I could see now that the room was bigger than I’d previously perceived. In the wall to the right of the doorway above the pit was a recess housing a chest of drawers which may have contained tools and equipment. The floor was pretty much as I remembered it, although the sight of the many layers of congealed blood increased the queasiness in my stomach. ‘Well now,’ Mather continued. He switched off the torch and put it in his pocket. ‘I suppose you’d like to hear about what’s been going on down here. No doubt your interest has been aroused.’ He carefully placed the dagger before him on the table.
‘Well . . .’
‘Hmm?’
‘Well, if you really want to talk about it.’
‘If I want to? I would have thought that by now your curiosity would be so hungry it could eat a horse! Don’t you want the full story? What I have to tell you could make you a very rich man indeed, if it were to be published. Come on, young man, where are your journalistic instincts?’
I decided that if Mather wanted to procrastinate, that was fine with me. The more time he gave me, the more chance I had of figuring a way out of the living hell I was in.
‘All right,’ I said.
I felt quite extraordinary – as if I was detaching myself from the horror of the situation and looking down on the two of us from the perspective of a third person. The looming shadows in the room, the pungency of death from the pit – both increased the sense of being caught within some grisly tale, fuelled perhaps by fever, drugs or insanity. Mather leaned forward, his hands on the table, firm, controlled. I shrank back in fear. It was impossible not to wonder whether, in mere minutes, I might be nothing more than another lump in that grotesque spoil heap below, one hand perhaps grasping above the tangle of limbs for help that would never come. It was the purest horror I’d ever faced.
‘I was less than accurate in the story I told you earlier,’ Mather said.
‘I’d gathered that,’ was my dry response.
He seemed amused by this. ‘You seem to be handling this better than I expected.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, I’m impressed.’
I wished Mather would stop smiling like that. ‘Thank you,’ I said, with deliberate sarcasm.
‘Hmm. Anyway, some elements of the story are true.’
Here we go
, I thought.
‘Soames and I performed that first experiment pretty much as I described, except that I made no objection to it, either before or during.’
‘What about the homeless man?’
‘Oh, he was real. My, how that man suffered. I actually toned down that part of the story. What actually happened was far more terrible.’
I didn’t want to listen, but neither did I want to risk upsetting Mather, not while his dagger was within easy reach.