Ash (28 page)

‘Sounds ominous.’

‘Oh, they put it in terms that seem quite reasonable. But I don’t think I’ll have a problem in two or three years’ time, after I’ve proved my loyalty.’

I wouldn’t count on it
, thought Ash. Everything he’d experienced so far at Comraich and the more he learned about it – guards and electrified fences to keep people in as well as out – told him the restrictions and the IC’s power were formidable. And probably non-negotiable. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming fear for her – and for himself. His latent psychic ability seemed to be warning him.

Surprising even himself, he leaned forward and kissed her damp cheek. For a moment she went rigid, and Ash remembered Lucan’s theory about Delphine’s sexuality. But Ash felt in his very soul that she felt the same as him. He’d never felt so sure of anything before, despite his predisposition to cynicism.

And then she softened and moved her lips to his.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss, it was a gentle one; yet it conveyed such feelings between them that Ash was almost overwhelmed by confusing emotions. Considering they had only just met that morning, and even though they had a near-death encounter in common – probably one of the most intimate experiences two people could ever share – their sudden, mutual closeness was almost mystical.

Ash drew away, just a little, remembering his fear of becoming too close to another woman; but the decision was no longer his to make. His arm slid around her shoulders and he was helpless to her embrace.

They kissed again, and this time the passion was almost impossible to ignore. He tasted her sweetness, and if a person could be lost to another’s allure, then it was now.

It had grown dark, the sun was becoming lost to the horizon, and he remembered the inconveniently approaching meeting with Sir Victor Haelstrom. Carefully, he raised his wrist to look at his watch.

‘Delphine . . .’ he began to say in a hushed voice.

She drew away just a fraction, joy and expectation combined in the look she gave him.

‘I’ve got a meeting with Haelstrom,’ he told her, slightly breathlessly. ‘I’m sorry, truly I’m sorry, but I’m already running late.’

She cast her eyes downwards. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, ‘I know you’ve got a job to do.’

She studied his face again, looking for . . . what? he asked himself. Then he realized:
reassurance
. She was alone in the world. And now she served in this strange location, a castle that was both a prison and a refuge. Did she even have close friends in this huge place? Her patients couldn’t be counted as such, but what about Krantz? He closed his mind to the association. What would a man like Lucan know about relationships, a man who had murdered his own children’s nanny in a lustful rage? A patient who had blotted out long segments of his own life so that now he was not even aware of how many years had slipped by since his internment here. Locked away all these years, how could he so judge another’s life?

‘I should have been with Haelstrom ten minutes ago. Hope he’s not strict on punctuality.’ Ash remembered the dressing-down Haelstrom had given Derriman for being late that morning.

‘I’m afraid he is.’ Delphine placed a hand on Ash’s upper arm, but not to keep him there. ‘You’d better hurry.’

He smiled because of her concern. ‘I take it he’s a bit of a bully.’

‘He can be. Then again, he can be charming too. It depends on his mood. And who you are.’

Ash was curious. ‘He has a trace of an accent I can’t quite make out.’

‘Originally he was from South Africa. He left there many years ago, though.’

‘Ah,’ said Ash, as if it all made sense. Haelstrom was probably of Dutch descent, and when South Africa rejoined the Commonwealth in 1994, he obviously became eligible for a knighthood.
For what, though?
he wondered. ‘He can be pretty obnoxious,’ he said.

‘That’s who he is. But go, David, I don’t want you to get into trouble on my account.’

Ash gave a small laugh. ‘I think I can handle Sir Victor. Although there is something I need to get permission for. Babbage and Derriman were dead set against it.’

It was her turn to look curiously at him.

‘I have to get down to the lowest floor. Specifically, I need to inspect the room or passage directly below the suite Douglas Hoyle occupied before he was killed.’

She became disturbed. ‘That really is forbidden territory, even for me.’

He frowned. ‘You don’t know what’s down there?’

‘I do,’ she said, then shook her head and her loosened black hair fell over one cheek. ‘But even I’m not allowed in the sub-basement. Patients are brought up to me when necessary.’

Ash was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I felt some kind of hostile force rising into Hoyle’s room. It was so powerful it threw me back out the door.’

‘David!’

‘It’s all right, it sometimes happens when there’s a build-up of psychic energy. My guess is that there might be a kind of psychic epicentre below ground.’

‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘I guess I can only explain it by saying it’s a meeting of strong psychical energies drawn to one area where ley lines cross or meet, and the force becomes so immense it breaks through natural barriers. Sometimes it’s referred to as a telluric energy field – earth energy, if you like – a ley-line convergence, that can expand from its centre. I believe there’s such an epicentre in the lower regions of the castle itself, or the rock beneath it.’

‘Haelstrom won’t allow you down there. It’s where the dungeons used to be and, as far as I know, the door to the stairway is always kept locked. Only a few people are ever allowed access.’

‘Sounds all the more intriguing.’

‘I have another idea that might help you. From the shoreline below the cliffs there are caves, and at the back of one is a passageway that I think used to lead up to the cellars of Comraich. I was told that smugglers brought their contraband into the castle through it centuries ago, though I don’t know whether it’s true. If you like, I’ll arrange for a park ranger to take you along the shoreline tomorrow and perhaps into one or two caves there. The biggest one is the obvious cave to explore. When the tide is out, it’s easy to see, and there’s a rough wooden stairway that zig-zags down to the shore in stages. It’s a hard journey, especially on the way back up, but I did it once. And I was warned by Sir Victor never to attempt it again. The tides are treacherous, he told me, and the sea comes right into the caves.’

‘Delphine, you don’t know how important that could be.’ He grinned at her and she shot him a smile, albeit a nervous one. He pulled her towards him again and she came willingly.

He could have cursed. ‘Look, I really am late for my meeting with Haelstrom . . . Are you okay if I . . . ?’ Ash gestured to his notebook and the shoulder bag. He put one into the other and his pen into one of the breast pockets of his field jacket.

‘David?’

He stopped what he was doing to look directly at her, his eyebrows raised in query.

‘Will I see you later?’ she asked quietly. ‘For dinner, maybe?’

He mentally cursed again. ‘Dinner’s out for me I’m afraid. I’ve got to explore the rest of the castle. I’ve only looked at the lower half so far, and there’s a lot more I need to see before I start setting up equipment.’

Now her eyes clouded with anxiety. ‘There are rooms there you won’t be allowed to enter. Lord Shawcroft-Draker’s apartment for instance.’

‘I’ll check with Haelstrom first. He can’t keep too many places closed off to me, otherwise I can’t do my job.’

‘Let me help you.’ It was almost a plea and he grinned.

He wanted to say yes, but he knew it would be wrong: sometimes he had to work alone to pick up ‘feelings’, ‘sens-ings’, and in company it sometimes wouldn’t happen. It was pointless to explain: anyone not experienced in the phenomena wouldn’t understand.

‘I appreciate your offer,’ he told her, ‘but I usually work best alone. Besides, it can be cold, uncomfortable and even dirty work; it’s not for you.’

If she were offended, she hid it well.

‘And I might even make a vigil through the night if I find a likely spot.’

‘You will be careful though.’

‘Of what? Ghosts? They can’t harm a living person.’ It was a lie – there were many ways a spirit could inflict punishment – but he wasn’t prepared to tell Delphine that: she looked worried enough.

‘Okay, David, please just take care.’

God, he wanted to kiss her again, this time with even more passion, but there was no time. He finally stood and looped the bag’s strap across his shoulder. ‘See you later,’ he said, walking away reluctantly.

He turned his head once before reaching the end of the walkway, and saw her still seated on the bench, her hands clasped in her lap, her face, in profile, looking into the sunset. His feelings towards her were not planned, nor were they really wanted. But they couldn’t be ignored.

How could he have let it happen? he asked himself as he entered the castle through a door at the end of the walkway. After the death of Grace Lockwood, and even after Christina Mariell at Edbrook, who wasn’t what she seemed, he’d vowed never again to have strong feelings for any other woman, no matter how appealing. Kate had been an exception, but that was more of a fondness between them rather than any great love affair. They had been drawn together by a mutual need for succour and comfort. Kate was an attractive woman, but their personalities were too different for a deeper relationship. Now he’d met Delphine, and his painfully constructed emotional defences had crumbled into dust. He was confounded, almost angry with himself. How could he have let it happen, and all in the shortness of one day?

He was afraid for Delphine as much as for himself. His track record for romance was disastrous!

Ash went through a narrow passageway leading to the grand reception hall, and the faint sounds of conversation grew louder as he approached the long foyer. He turned a corner and found himself among the chattering clients. The lengthy polished-wood reception counter was to his right, behind which the two young receptionists, Veronica and Gerrard, were keeping busy.

Several heads turned his way when Ash walked out onto the marble concourse and he couldn’t help reflect on what a farcical lot the Comraich clientele seemed to be: so far he’d come in contact with a weirdly holy but perverted archbishop and his acolyte nun, and a missing lord whose sensational crime and disappearance had made him legendary throughout the world. Who would he find next?

With that in mind, he studied the faces he passed by a little more intently. Some guests stared right back, mainly with expressions of interest or annoyance at his presence. But most were complete strangers to him, although he
felt
one or two were familiar. Halfway along the hallway, where guests obviously met before cocktails and dinner, Ash came across one man he most definitely did recognize, but whose name he couldn’t remember.

He was a bulky, rough-faced individual with a pockmarked face, who stared back at the psychic investigator with both suspicion and hostility. He had thick white hair and eyebrows that were still almost black above small, piercing eyes that were set so deep that they were almost in shadow, and they glared at Ash as if to challenge him.

Unlike the other clients, most of whom were decked out in smart evening clothes, this one wore an ill-fitting grey suit and a dull tie of indeterminate colour, his shoes an unpolished brown. He was stocky, but his paunch strained at the single button of his suit jacket, and his trousers were rumpled, as if he cared nothing for fashion or freshness.

Ash continued on to the reception counter. Veronica looked up as he approached and smiled.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Ash?’

‘Uh, I have a meeting with Sir Victor Haelstrom,’ he said, leaning in towards her.

‘Yes, sir. At half-past six.’ The sweet smile was still on her lips.

‘Yep. I’m running a little bit late.’

She consulted her own watch that, like a nurse’s, hung down on the left breast pocket of her jacket. ‘It’s six forty-five. Sir Victor has already rung down for you.’

‘Really? Did he sound cross?’ He’d meant it as a joke, but Veronica’s reply was earnest.

‘Well, he didn’t sound very happy,’ she said. ‘Shall I ring him back and tell him you’re on your way?’

‘If it helps. He’s on the fifth floor, yes?’

‘That’s right, Mr Ash.’ She was already lifting the phone, unseen beneath the counter top, and Ash wondered whether it was kept out of sight deliberately to stop guests thinking about the outside world.

Her message was brief and Veronica maintained her smile throughout the muffled but rasping response that even Ash could hear.

‘He’s expecting you,’ she said as she replaced the receiver. He wondered if she was being ironic, but she gave no hint.

‘Fifth floor, Mr Ash,’ she confirmed again and pointed down the hall with the pencil she’d been holding during their encounter. ‘You know where the lift is.’

He thanked her and as he turned away she said, ‘Good luck?’

Ash did a double-take but she continued to smile in the same way.

As the investigator turned away, he looked again for the man who had been glaring at him with such hostility, but he had disappeared into the crowd. Ash still couldn’t recall the name, but he remembered seeing his picture regularly in newspapers and on television when the war in Bosnia was at its worst.

He felt a sour taste in his mouth. Was this also the kind of person Comraich hid, hid and overindulged? War criminals whose appalling violations were so repellent, so brutishly inhumane to civilized society?

Ash shuddered. He was just beginning to understand the malign influences in this place.

A thought struck him before he reached the lift that would take him up to Sir Victor Haelstrom’s apartment: was Delphine aware of the people harboured here? To him, she was an innocent, but was it possible for anyone, and especially someone who had worked here for several years, helping people, psychoanalysing them, delving into their deepest thoughts – was it possible to be unaware of who they were and what they had done? The notion that she was complicit in shielding them from justice shocked him.