Candleburn (14 page)

29

Mehr Zain yawned as he put his feet on the floor and staggered out onto the upstairs landing.

The
Aspinals had a chateau of a home. Transplanted to Kensington, it would easily have been worth £20 million. He loved the fact that to Asp, it was a mansion in one of the most up-market districts the city had to offer: Jumeirah. And yet, he’d heard Alex several times deride the three storey building as a ‘pokey suburban hole.’

As
he leaned against the balustrade, he could smell the fine fragrances of garlic, lemongrass and ginger wafting from downstairs. Alexandria was working her magic in the kitchen.

“Ah,
sleeping beauty awakes,” she said when he reached the bottom of the staircase.

“Good
evening Mrs Aspinal,” Mehr said, admiring the watercolour finger paintings by Ginny and Pepper that were stuck to the fridge with alphabet magnets.

Alex
had on an apron and was vigorously slicing vegetables for a Thai stir fry.

“Mehr,”
she said without looking up from the chopping board, “how long have we known one another?”

“Longer
than a gentleman should admit, without wishing to provide indications of the lady’s age,” Mehr replied.

“So
I think we’re past the Mrs Aspinal phrase,” Alex laughed.

“Yes,
ma’am,” Mehr said. “If it’s okay, I’m just going to use your bathroom.”

He
left the kitchen and wandered towards the lavatory. From the second floor, the childish noises of the girls resonated as they argued with the house maid.

“But
I don’t need a bath,” he overhead Ginny say. “Sniff me – I’m fresh from the sea.”

A
squeal and clatter of pots from the kitchen.

Zain
stopped and turned.

“Alex?”
he called.

A
muffled noise. Scuffling. More pots.

Zain
ran back to the kitchen.

“Holy
shit!” he exclaimed.

Mehr
Zain was staring straight down the muzzle of a pistol.

***

Blake’s Audi nipped through a hedge. Leaves fluttered behind it like wedding confetti.

The
pool area.

Blake
swore loudly and whacked the brakes. The car skidded, caustic smoke erupting against the brown-stone crazy paving. Swimmers shrieked and leapt out of the way, some diving into the water, others running for cover. The wheels ground to a halt, the car shifted parallel to the pool’s edge.

Blake
pounded the accelerator.

More
squealing from the tyres.

The
Audi left a trail of black against the rock slabs. White plastic sun loungers and deck chairs buffeted off the bumper as Blake hurtled away.

The
car bounced onto the grass, then through a flower bed, then back to grass.

The
Nissan roared as it leapt through the hedge seconds later. It crashed down onto a table, obliterating it. Brittle shards of plastic exploded in all directions. The car was unstopped and zipped a diagonal route around the pool.

“Damn,”
Blake said. “I’d hoped you fancied a swim.”

He
turned his Audi away from the hotel, heading towards the back courses. These were less used at night and therefore unlit by the giant, football stadium lights that illuminated the holes closer to the hotel.

A
golf cart hurried to move aside as Blake whisked past.

The
Nissan was less careful, tossing the cart asunder, a rapacious beast intent on its kill.

Grass
hillocks.

Blake
took the humps to the first fairway as quickly he dared. He angled left, and then turned for a narrow tarmac path to a bridge across the main artificial lake.

He
gained ground on the Nissan, whose suspension struggled with speed on the uneven terrain. Blake reached the bridge. Damn. Too narrow. Handbrake turn. He skidded again.

The
Nissan gained velocity as it hit the bitumen.

Blake
was now heading back towards the hotel, along the bank of the lake. Shit. He wanted to put distance not only between himself and the Nissan but also the building, otherwise, with a mere snap of a mobile phone, his licence plate would be in the hands of the police.

That
would mean this night-flight chase would be for nothing – as soon as he returned to the highway, he’d be picked up in a heartbeat.

So
far, he hoped, everyone had been too surprised to catch a snap of him. They might have recovered in time to get a photo of the Nissan.

Blake
followed the line of the water as it rounded and began to ease back away from the clubhouse. Foot to the floor, the Audi purred as it pushed back up through 70 miles per hour. Then 80. Then 90.

The
buffeting from the rough grass was beginning to affect his handling.

100
mph.

Blake’s
phone, held fast in the hands-free cradle attached to his dashboard began to buzz. Backlit in neon blue, a name appeared. The Audi sailed over another hillock and twisted as it lost traction, wheels gouging holes in the fairway as the trunk span sideways.

Blake
jerked the steering wheel, regaining control.

He
chanced a look at the phone, vibrating aggressively like an angered bumblebee.

Alice.

“For fuck’s sake,” he shouted.

The
Nissan was a tank, ploughing on regardless of the obstacles in its path.

Blake’s
phone rang through to voicemail and went silent.

He
was increasing his advantage on the Nissan as he sped away from the hotel but it wasn’t enough. He needed minutes of time and for all the danger he was putting the Audi through he was gaining seconds.

The
phone began again.

The
car hit a steep hump.

The
hump hid a bunker.

The
Audi’s nose arced higher. It left the ground and Blake sailed through the air. The sand trap was at least five metres wide.

The
phone went quiet.

Despite
the lift the Audi received from the hillock before it left the earth, Blake didn’t think he’d make the far side. He felt his weight decrease as he began to rise up in his seat. The car was beginning to fall. If the drop from this height didn’t break his spine, it could easily crack the delicate machinery on the underside of the Audi.

A
broken camshaft or shattered axel and it was all over.

The
phone began again.

Buzz,
buzz, buzz.

Blake’s
fury, pent up over a year and a half, took over all rational thought. His thumb whacked the ‘receive’ button.

“What?”
he yelled tersely.

The
car hit the ground with a calamitous boom. Blake punched forward in his seat. The seatbelt caught him. Jeffrey howled in protest as the cat-box on the back seat, securely gripped by a network of restraints, shuddered.

The
car had fallen short of the bunker’s edge.

“Shit,”
Blake thought.

If
the car got stuck...

No
voice came from the other end of the phone, only sobbing.

The
Audi’s back wheels surfed on the sand.

“Come
on...” Blake muttered.

The
front left tyre found grass.

“Yes!”
he hissed.

Crying
from the phone.

Ripping
grass loose from the side of the bunker, the Audi’s left tyre slipped back.

“Damn
it...”

But
that gave enough torque to bring the right tyre to the soil. It was now that the independent driving of each wheel paid off. The right tyre grasped the earth as a climber might that first handhold upon reaching the top of a cliff. The handling improved. The Audi A4 lurched.

“Blake,”
a sobbing woman’s voice came over the speaker.

The
car bolted forward, sprinter from a starting block. A fog of sand, ejected by the car’s back wheels plumed into the sky.

“Kinda
busy here,” Blake yelled.

Alice’s
voice began wailing.

Blake
willed the car faster as he bounded through more rough, before winding back to the smoother driving of the fairway.

“I’m
sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry,” Alice wept, in between deep gasps and sobs.

In
the rear mirror Blake could only see one headlamp in pursuit. The Nissan must have taken some damage from that last jump.

“Get
to the fucking point, Alice.”

The
engine changed pitch as he pushed up through 110 mph, the grass underneath the car sounded like the sea washing its chassis. The Nissan had lost a heady piece of ground as it failed to match his pace on the flat.

“I
took your mail,” she blubbered. “I took it, I stole it and I opened it and inside I found a key and I kept it and I’m sorry – please, please get them to stop.”

“The
key,” Blake thought, twitching the Audi off into a gap little wider than his car between a bank of trees. “So that’s why it didn’t arrive.”

A
scream sliced through the air. Its intensity hurt Blake’s ears.

“Please!”
Alice begged. “No, no, no! No! Don’t burn me again! I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Burn
you?” Blake exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

“You
need to bring them the box. Bring them the box. Please, bring them the motherfucking box,” she shrieked.

Another
scream.

Silence.

In the car, the air seemed colder. The hairs on Blake’s arms began to stand.

Still,
the Audi raced on. The Nissan had lost a few more metres distance.

“Alice?”

Blake forced the car through another narrow gap between a line of trees. Branches whacked against the outside metal.

No
answer.

“Alice?”

“Yes?” came the feeble voice.

“Are
they there in the room with you?” Blake asked.

“Yes.”

Paths of probability trees stretched away in Blake’s brain, every bit as real in his mind in that moment as the saplings outside that scraped against the car’s doors. Options upon options. Tactics, then counter-tactics. Each branch was a play; if I make this move, my opponent will...

But
they all hinged on one question.

“Alice.
Can you see their faces?”

The
Audi emerged from the trees and into a darkened portion of the grounds, well away from the hotel. The sprinklers here were blitzing the grass with water – great pounding cannons blasting jets hundreds of feet across the landscape. Booms and blasts, the most violent of north European storms, buffeted the vehicle.

Blake
switched the wipers on.

“Yes,”
Alice said, icicles of fear hanging from her voice.

Blake
ran his tongue around his mouth. It was suddenly very dry.

“Then
I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

A
wail from the other end of the phone.

A
new voice. It had a soft melodious feel, a beautiful baritone oakiness. Blake estimated its owner to be Arabic, late twenties, perhaps early thirties, UK-educated, with a possible stint at a military academy.

“Mr
Helliker, I presume?”

“And
you must be Aarez?”

A
laugh.

“Good!
Good!” Aarez said. “I always like it when my reputation precedes me.”

“Not
really,” Blake replied, “I hadn’t heard of you until an hour ago.”

“Ah,”
Aarez replied. “A quick learner then, that is also good. We have your friend here in her flat and you have something that belongs to us, so I propose a trade.”

“I
take it that these gentlemen currently in pursuit of me in their car are affiliated with you?” Blake asked.

“A
black Nissan Pathfinder with tinted windows?” Aarez asked.