Heathen/Nemesis

Ninety-Five

‘Come up here, Mrs Ward, and bring the pages from the book with you.’

Mackenzie’s words seemed to echo inside the small cellar.

As Donna looked more closely, she saw that he was holding a gun; too. The .38 glinted in the torchlight.

Without a second thought she began to climb the steps, the pages of the Grimoire held in her hand. There was no point in trying to run. Where the hell was she going to go?

She pulled herself out of the cellar and stood facing him, noticing that he’d taken a step back, that the pistol was levelled at her.

‘You’re part of it,’ she said flatly.

‘Drop the pages on the floor in front of you and step back,’ Mackenzie told her.

She did as instructed, tossing the parchment away as if it was infected with some vile disease.

Mackenzie picked the discarded paper up without taking his eyes off her. He stuffed the pages into the pocket of his coat. He moved away from her again.

‘You knew right from the beginning,’ she said. ‘You knew that first night at the hospital when I came to identify Chris. You were a part of it then. You’re one of them, aren’t you?’

The policeman smiled thinly.

‘One of who, Mrs Ward?’ he said.

‘The Sons of Midnight, or whatever the hell they call themselves.’

‘You saw some of the other names on the list,’ he said. ‘You can’t even begin to imagine how far this goes. Who is involved. How high up it goes. You’ve only scratched the surface. I’m a very small part of it but there are others who must be protected until the time is right. Your husband knew that, too. He knew who was involved, how important some of the higher ranking members were.’

‘That’s why you killed him?’

‘I told you, his death was an accident.‘ The policeman smiled. ‘Perhaps he was lucky. He died before we got to him.’

‘And now it’s my turn?’

‘Why should I kill you?’

‘I’ve seen the names on the list. I know what’s going on.’

‘You’ve seen some of the names, but you have no idea of what’s going on. You can’t begin to imagine what is going on and who else is involved. Like I said, you couldn’t begin to imagine how high this thing goes.’

‘No one can be trusted.’

‘Who would you go to with your revelations? The press? Television?’ There was a mocking tone in his voice. ‘Who’d believe you?’

He backed towards the kitchen door, the gun still levelled at her.

‘Everything you’ve done has been for nothing,’ he told her. ‘You wasted your time.’

Donna watched as he opened the door, then stepped outside into the night. She heard his footsteps in the mud beyond, heard a car engine start up, the vehicle pull away.

She walked through to the sitting-room and peered through a crack in the boarded-up window, watching the car’s rear lights disappearing into the gloom.

The package was standing on the table.

Donna saw it. Saw the small red lights winking on it.

She smelled something.

A sickly sweet smell that reminded her of marzipan.

Her husband had once told her that plastic explosive smelled like marzipan.

She guessed that the bomb was about fifty pounds.

There were two red lights on it, and one of them had begun to flicker madly.

Donna took a step towards it.

In the back of the Orion, Mackenzie pressed the red button on the small control panel.

The explosion was thunderous.

Even seventy yards from the cottage the car was showered with debris.

Mackenzie didn’t bother to look back; he merely slid the control panel back inside his jacket and nodded to his driver.

The car moved off, swallowed by the night.