Lucas (32 page)

‘What about all those people looking for Lucas?'

‘Don't worry. I'll tell Lenny about them.'

‘He won't do anything.'

‘Yes, he will. Now go on.' He gave me a little shove. ‘I'll meet you back at the car.'

As we pulled away from the village the skies opened up with a thundering crash and the rain came down in torrents. High winds buffeted the car and tore at the branches of roadside trees. The narrow lanes were rapidly flooding. Rita drove slowly, concentrating on keeping the car on the road. Her body was rigid and her face was taut as she peered intently through the waves of water gushing across the windscreen. The rest of us just sat there shivering in our wet clothes, listening to the sound of rain hammering hard on the roof. No one said anything. There wasn't anything to say.

There was quite a lot of traffic around, mostly festival traffic heading off the island, but I was surprised to see
almost as much coming back the other way, towards the village. I thought at first they were gruesome sightseers coming from the mainland, drawn like flies to the scent of blood, but as we approached the junction at the Stand I realised I was wrong.

‘Look at this,' murmured Rita, slowing the car.

I squinted through the windscreen at the queue of traffic stretching back from the Stand. It must have been half a kilometre long. The water level in the estuary was higher than I'd ever seen it, lapping up over the railings and still rising. The Stand was completely submerged beneath the storm-ravaged waters of a muddy-brown lake.

‘Christ,' whispered Dom.

At the junction a white Transit van was parked across the Black Hill road, blocking the entrance to the east of the island. A rough-looking man smoking a cigarette was sitting in the driver's seat studying the cars as they approached the Stand. Three or four others were walking around directing traffic back to the village. As they leaned down to explain the situation to frustrated drivers I could see them surreptitiously checking inside the cars. It was like something out of a vigilante movie.

The queue of traffic inched forward as those up ahead turned around and drove back to the village. I could see the drivers shaking their heads in dismay.

‘They won't be going home for a while,' Rita said.

‘Neither will we at this rate,' Dom added.

Some of the cars were pulling out of the queue and turning back before they got to the Stand, but most of them just carried on queueing, either waiting to find out what was going on, or hoping against hope they'd be able to get through. It took us about twenty minutes to reach the junction. During this time a motorcycle roared past us
and raced up to the white van where it skidded to a halt. The rider, a helmetless thug in a leather jacket, spoke to someone in the passenger seat of the van, then swung the bike around and sped off up Black Hill. I saw Dom watching with a worried look on his face.

‘Do you know him?' I asked.

‘Micky Buck,' he whispered. ‘A friend of Brendell's.'

I started to say something else but Dom nudged me in the leg, nodded at Bill and Rita in the front of the car, and shook his head. I didn't quite understand what he meant, but I knew enough to shut up.

Rita put the car in gear and we edged up to the front of the queue. There was only one car ahead of us now and I had a clear view of the swollen estuary. Across the other side, cars were pulling up at the water's edge before turning round and heading back to the mainland. Out in the middle of the estuary a small rowing boat was bobbing up and down in the waves. There were two men in it, both of whom I recognised from the festival. They were peering over the side of the boat like drunken fishermen looking for sharks. It was hard to believe how stupid they were. Even if Lucas
was
still on the island, did they really think he'd try to escape by swimming across a well-guarded estuary in the middle of a storm? And how did they think they were going to stop him if he did? What were they going to do – harpoon him?

Idiots.

As I was watching, one of them looked up and pointed at the sky. The other one craned his neck and got to his feet, but the boat started wobbling and he quickly sat down again, still looking upwards. Then I heard it too, the whirring chop-chop of a helicopter. I leaned against the window and gazed up just in time to see a small yellow
helicopter flying low over the estuary making a bee-line for the Point.

‘Air ambulance,' said Dom. ‘They're going to have trouble landing in this weather.'

‘At least they're trying,' I said.

Dom looked at me. He was about to say something when someone rapped on the driver's window and a rainsoaked face appeared in the glass. Rita wound down the window and a stocky young man poked his head in, filling the car with a waft of beery breath.

‘You gotta go back,' he said, glancing in the back. ‘Tide's up, you can't get through.'

Rita glared at him. ‘Do you mind getting your head out of my car?'

The man grinned. ‘Only trying to help, love. You see, when the tide comes in—'

‘We live here, you idiot. I've seen more high tides than you've got spots on your chin. Now get your head out of my car and get that bloody van moved. I want to go home.'

He wasn't grinning any more. He stared at Rita for a moment, shot another glance at me and Dom, then snapped his head back and called across to the van. ‘Hey! Tully! This one says they live ‘ere! Wants the van moved!'

The man in the van turned his head and spoke to someone in the passenger seat, then leaned out of the window and shouted something back through the howling rain.

The stocky man leaned down again and said, ‘What's the name?'

‘What the hell
is
this?' Rita fumed. ‘I don't have to give my name to
you
– Jesus
Christ!
Get out of my way before I call the police.'

The man sniffed and spat on the ground. ‘The police
are busy, lady. There's a killer on the loose—'

Rita shook her head and put the car in gear.

The man reached in and put his hand on the wheel. ‘I wouldn't if I were you.'

Rita glared at him and thumped his hand. He swore at her and started reaching for the ignition keys. Dominic leaned across the seat and grabbed his wrist.

‘Tell Tully it's McCann,' he said.

The young man looked at him.

Dom's eyes were hard. ‘Tell him we're coming through and he'd better move the van right now.' He let go of his wrist and the man stepped back. Dom put his hand on Rita's shoulder. ‘Are you all right?'

She nodded, glancing at the man. ‘I will be once fatso moves his face.'

Dom looked at him. ‘What are you waiting for?'

The man glared at Dom for a moment then spat again and started walking across to the van. Dom sank back into his seat. Aggression wasn't in his character, and he looked almost as shocked as I felt. His face was drained and his hands were shaking.

‘Who's Tully?' I asked him.

‘The one in the van. Tully Jones – one of Tait's lackeys. He's nothing without Jamie, same as the rest of them.'

Just then the car behind us sounded its horn. Rita turned around and gestured angrily through the back window. Bill, who hadn't said a word so far, told her to calm down, and then
they
started arguing.

Dom shook his head. ‘Christ, I don't believe this. The whole thing's turning into a bloody nightmare.'

Meanwhile, over at the junction I saw the white van reversing halfway across the road.

‘Let's get out of here,' I said.

Rita didn't hear me, she was too busy sniping at Bill. ‘… you're a
fine
one to talk, my girl. You're the one that's been hanging around with slobs like that, so don't you dare—'

‘That's
enough!'
I cried.

Rita shut up and everyone looked at me.

‘Can we
please
just go home,' I said.

There was a moment's stunned silence, then the car behind us sounded its horn again. This time, Rita ignored it. She wound up the window, put the car into gear, and pulled out across the junction towards Black Hill. A man in a long black raincoat had joined the stocky young man and they were both leaning against the van door watching us. Wet hair was plastered across their heads and rain dripped from their faces. As we approached the van Dominic told Rita to slow down.

‘What for?' Rita said.

‘Just pull in over there a minute.'

She steered the car across the road and stopped next to the van. Dominic wound down the window and leaned out. As rain gusted into the car I heard him speak to the man in the driver's seat.

‘Hey, Tully,' he said.

The man stared slowly at him. He was lean and hard, with close-cropped hair, red-rimmed eyes, and bad skin. Just below his left eye three small letters were crudely tattooed in red ink. The letters read:
R. I. P
.

Dom said, ‘Tell Buck if I see him anywhere near my house I'll break his neck. You got that?'

The man called Tully laughed. I saw him lean to one side and speak to someone in the passenger seat, and then I heard another laugh –
nyuh nyuh nyuh
– and a gasp of recognition caught in my throat.

Tully looked out of the window, saw me, then spoke to
his hidden companion again.

Dom said, ‘OK, Rita. Let's go.'

As Rita put the car into reverse, Tully called down from the van. ‘Hey, McCann – yours is that run-down place at the end of the lane, right? What's it like down there all on your own? Nice and quiet? Must get a bit lonely sometimes, eh? Especially at night.'

Dominic didn't say anything.

Tully flicked a burning cigarette end into the rain and laughed again. ‘I'll be seeing you. Sleep tight.'

We drove off up Black Hill and the van moved back across the road. I looked back through the rear window trying to catch sight of the other man in the van, but all I could see through the pouring rain was a featureless head behind the glass. I looked at Dom. He was chewing a thumbnail and staring thoughtfully at nothing.

‘That was him, wasn't it?' I whispered.

‘Who?'

‘You
know
who. The other one in the van – it was Jamie.'

He looked at me, then looked away. ‘Maybe … I don't know.'

‘Yes you do.'

He shrugged, then forced a smile. ‘Don't worry about it.'

‘Don't
worry
about it?'

Dom looked across at me and I looked back. His lips started quivering, his mouth broke into a giggly smile, and then we both started laughing like idiots. Rita frowned at us in the rear-view mirror and Bill turned around with a puzzled look on her face.

‘What's the matter with you two?' she said.

‘Nothing,' Dom giggled. ‘N-nothing … don't worry about it …'

It seems pretty stupid now, but at the time it was the funniest thing in the world.

It was getting on for eight o'clock when we drove down the lane and pulled into the yard. The gravel track was water-logged and the skies were so dark and rain-whipped I could hardly see the house. The car lurched to a halt and a roll of thunder split the sky. White lightning lit up the lane and just for a moment I could see the poplar trees thrashing in the wind, their shredded leaves cascading into the sky, and then it was dark again and all I could see was a wall of black rain.

‘Do you want us to come in with you?' Rita asked.

‘No thanks,' Dom replied. ‘We'll be all right. You go on home. I'll ring you as soon as we hear anything.' He turned to me. ‘Ready?'

I thanked Rita for the lift, said goodbye to Bill, then we got out of the car and ran through the rain to the house. It was only about twenty paces, but by the time we got to the door we were both soaked to the skin again. As Dom got his keys out, a great crash of thunder ripped through the air and another bolt of lightning lit up the sky. We both shuddered. I could see bits of broken roof-slate scattered on the step, and from inside the house I could hear Deefer barking and whining.

Dom fumbled with the keys.

‘Come on,' I said. ‘What are you doing?'

‘My hands are cold.'

‘Here, give me those.'

I snatched the keys from his hand and unlocked the door and we hurried inside. The house was cold and dark and it smelled of damp wood and dog. It smelled of home.

I switched on the hall light and headed for the stairs.

‘Wait a minute,' Dom said, holding me back.

‘I need a wee.'

‘Just wait here a minute.'

‘What for? I'm freezing—'

‘I won't be long.'

He went down the hall and into the front room. I heard him turn on the light and close the curtains, then he came back out and went into the kitchen. After he'd checked all the rooms downstairs and turned on all the lights, he disappeared upstairs. I heard doors opening, lights being switched on, curtains closing. Then I heard him rummaging around in Dad's bedroom.

Deefer sat down beside me and rubbed his head against my leg.

‘Yeah, I know,' I said. ‘You'd tell us if anyone was here, wouldn't you? Dom's just double-checking, that's all.' I patted his head. ‘Do you want to go outside?' I opened the front door. Deefer stood up, took one look at the rain, then sat down again. I shut the door.

After a couple of minutes Dom came downstairs. He'd changed out of his wet clothes and was carrying a baseball bat.

‘It's Dad's,' he said in answer to my questioning look. ‘He keeps it under his bed.'

‘Do you think we're going to need it?'

He shrugged. ‘Probably not.'

I tried to think of something funny to say, something to lighten the tone, but I couldn't think of anything.

Funny-time was over.

‘I'm going to get out of these clothes,' I said.

Dom nodded. ‘I'll light the fire then make some phone calls.'