Scaderstone Pit (The Darkeningstone Series Book 3) (27 page)

“I know it sounds paranoid, but I really feel like we’re being watched. Think about it—every way we turn, there’s someone standing in our way. And it’s getting worse. That guy on the hill had a gun for god’s sake!” I paused, suddenly aware that I’d been raising my voice. I moved a little closer to Cally and spoke quietly. “They’re trying to stop us, Cally. We know about the stones and they don’t like that. I’m worried. I don’t know what they’ll do next, but I don’t think it’s safe for either of us to be on our own.”

Cally looked away for a moment, and her expression clouded as though she was reliving an unpleasant memory. “I don’t know, Jake. Maybe you’re right. But I’m just not sure.” She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “I hardly know what to think right now.”

I looked at Cally, taking in the fear in her eyes, and with a sudden rush of cold certainty, I realised she was holding something back. “What happened in Exeter, Cally? You said that you got away, but you never told me what happened. Was it like this? Were they watching you?”

Slowly, she nodded. “I think so. It feels like it’s happening again. And I can’t bear it, Jake. I can’t go through all that again. I just can’t.”

There was a catch in her voice, and in that moment I knew that I’d do anything to protect her, anything to keep her safe. “It’s all right. Here’s what we’ll do—we’ll find somewhere new for both of us to stay tonight. That way, no one will know where we are. We’ll have separate rooms, but if you need me, I’ll be right there.”

Cally forced a smile. “Thank you, Jake. That’s a good idea. There are a few places in town. We should be able to find somewhere.”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get your bags and get out of here.”

***

Cally knew the town and we walked straight to the Ace Hotel, a modest little place on the edge of town. We booked adjoining rooms and I helped Cally upstairs with her bags. Her room was small but comfortable, and once we’d dropped her bags, Cally seemed a little more relaxed.

“I’ve got to go back and collect my things,” I said. “Will you be all right?”

Cally nodded. “I’ll be fine, but shouldn’t we stick together? Don’t you need some help?”

“It’s all right. I won’t be long, and I’ve only got one bag.” I gave her a smile. “I left home in kind of a hurry.”

“If you’re sure,” Cally said. “I’d quite like to check through my stuff. I want to make sure there’s nothing missing.”

“Good idea. I won’t be long anyway.” I headed for the door then hesitated and turned around. “As soon as I’ve gone, lock your door. When I come back, I’ll call out. Don’t open it for anyone else, OK?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” She paused and looked me in the eye. “It was a good idea to come here, Jake. I feel safer already.”

She returned my smile, and I stood by the door for a moment, fighting the urge to run to her, to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. “See you soon,” I said then I let myself out and walked hurriedly away.

***

The receptionist at the Tours Nord Hotel, a man I’d never seen before, gave me a resigned shrug when I said I was checking out. By now, it was well into the evening so I had to pay for the night even though I wasn’t staying. But I didn’t care about that. I told him I’d be down to pay the bill in a moment then I climbed the stairs to my room as quickly as I could; I was anxious to grab my things and get back to Cally.

When I let myself into my room, the place seemed bleak and soulless. The air was stifling and tainted with the stench of stale sweat. I shut the door behind me and headed straight for the small bathroom. I desperately needed to freshen up before I returned to Cally.

I leaned over the sink and let the water run hot, splashing my face over and over again, washing the dust from my skin. It was good, and it felt even better when I buried my face in the warm fluffy towel. But when I looked up, what I saw made me stagger backward, clutching at the towel rail for support.

The man standing in the bathroom doorway was holding a knife at shoulder height. He was tall and slim-built, and bizarrely, he was dressed in a business suit. He was beyond middle age: his brow was wrinkled, and his grey hair was combed back from his temples. But his eyes were clear and bright, and they burned with the steely glint of malice.

“Jesus Christ!” I hissed. I scanned the room, looking for a weapon, or something I could use to protect myself. But there was nothing. And there was no window in the bathroom. There was nothing I could do. I was cornered. Trapped.

“There’s no need for alarm,” the man said, and his voice was pure, crystal-cut English upper class. “You won’t be hurt if you do as I say.”

I stood tall. “No! Get out! I’ll yell my bloody head off.”

The man shook his head slowly. “No, you won’t,” he said quietly. “Not if you want Callisto to remain safe.”

At the mention of Cally’s name, a jolt of ice-water raced through my veins. And I knew I’d been right to fear for Cally, right to try and protect her. “It was you. You’ve been following us. In the red car.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “No. That was nothing to do with me. And anyway, if I’d been following you, you would never have known it.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re something to do with those men at the station. And you burgled Cally’s room.”

“Again, no,” the man said. “Although I’m unaccustomed to explaining myself, I can assure you that I had no need to bother your little friend—she doesn’t have anything I want.” He gave me a wolfish smile. “You, on the other hand, have something I need very badly.” He lowered his knife to waist height then stepped toward me. And I seized my chance.

I pushed myself off from the wall and charged at the man. With my left hand, I grabbed his arm and pushed the knife away. At the same time, I drove my right fist at his face. But the man sidestepped smoothly, swinging his upper body around and changing his stance. In one smooth motion he deflected my clumsy punch and took hold of my arm. Somehow, he turned me around, twisting my arm behind my back and forcing my head down until my forehead slammed against the bathroom sink. I struggled, flailing my free hand uselessly behind me in an attempt to grab hold of his leg. But he yanked my body backward, and the next thing I knew, he’d wrapped his arm around my throat, jamming my windpipe in the crook of his arm. He squeezed hard and I gasped for air, but I couldn’t get enough, and I couldn’t think straight. My hands were free now, and I took hold of his arm, trying to wrench it away from my throat. But his grip was like an iron clamp: so tight around my neck that my fingers could find no purchase. He squeezed harder and I choked, fighting for breath. The room spun, my heart pounded in my ears, and my chest burned with the need to breathe.

“Now, have you had enough?” the man said. “Or do you want to end your miserable little life on the bathroom floor?”

I moved my lips but no words would come. I slapped my hand against his arm, hoping he’d understand my submission.

“Good.”

The pressure on my throat eased and I gasped for air, shifting my position to make breathing easier. I took a couple of breaths then I did my best to surprise him. Without warning, I tried to shake him off, turning my shoulders and throwing my full weight into the move. I struggled with all my strength against his grip, but it was no good. He just tightened his hold on my throat, and suddenly, all I could think of was where my next breath was coming from.

“Silly boy,” he said, and his voice was calm, almost gentle. “I can see I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

I tried to shake my head, I tried to speak, but it was no good. The room was slipping out of focus, its colours fading to grey. If he didn’t release me soon, I’d pass out.
No
, I told myself.
You can’t let that happen
. I focused on the black and white tiles of the bathroom floor and squashed the surge of panic rising from the pit of my stomach. There had to be something I could do.

I looked back along the floor and realised that the man’s feet were just behind my own. I lifted my right foot and stamped down as hard as I could on his instep.

He flinched, but it wasn’t enough to make him release me. “You’ll pay for that,” he snapped.

And then the knife’s blade was in front of my eyes.

“Keep still,” he commanded.

I ground my teeth together and gathered my strength, straining to pull my head free. But the knife came down, scratching across my cheek, the blade biting easily into my flesh.

“That’s just the beginning,” the man said. “If you try anything like that again, I’ll slit your throat and leave you here to die. And then I’ll visit Callisto and do the same to her. Is that clear?”

I didn’t even try to reply. I just stayed as still as I could, watching my blood drip and splash on the bathroom tiles.

“I think I’ve got my message across,” the man said. “Now, I’m going to let you stand up.” He paused and exhaled noisily, his breath wheezing in his throat. “If you behave yourself, we’ll get you patched up and then we’re going to have a little chat. But if you misbehave again, you will never leave this room alive.”

He released me then pushed me away, spinning me around. My shoe slipped in the puddle of blood, but I managed to keep my balance. I stood as far back as I could, facing my attacker, my hand pressed against my cheek, the warm blood seeping between my fingers. “What do you want?” I said. “What do you want with Cally?”

The man plucked a towel from the rail and held it out to me. “Press that against the cut,” he said. “It’s only a scratch. It’ll stop bleeding in a minute.”

I stared at him for a long second then I took the towel and held it against my cheek. “Who are you? What the hell do you want?”

“My name is Crawford,” he said. “And funnily enough, I want exactly the same thing as you.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes you do. Because strange as it may seem, I want to climb that hill and see the black stone.”

Chapter 33

1919

AT THE LOUNGE BAR IN THE WHITE SWAN
, Trevor handed a pint of mild and bitter to Brian. “There you go, Brian. That should steady your nerves.”

Brian sipped gingerly at his pint and looked around the room. “I don’t go to the pub much—most of my wages go to my mum for the housekeeping. And when I do go out, it’s always the public bar. I’ve never been in the lounge before.”

“First time for everything, eh?” Trevor said. “And since it’s lunchtime, how about a cheese and onion roll to keep your hunger at bay?”

Brian goggled at him. “I don’t know. I usually just get a packet of pork scratchings.”

“That’s no good,” Trevor said. “We’ve got to keep ourselves fed if we’re going to get anything done this afternoon.”

Brian’s brow furrowed. “I’ve got a sandwich and a flask of tea back at the site, but you said we had to rush off. I didn’t have a chance to grab my knapsack. I didn’t even have time to tell the foreman I was going.”

Trevor smiled to dismiss Brian’s concerns without a word. It had been important to get Brian off the site as quickly as possible; there was no way he could’ve allowed him to go gossiping to the rest of the men. “I’ll tell you what,” Trevor said smoothly, “you find a table and I’ll order us a couple of rolls.”

“The only thing is,” Brian said, “I haven’t…you know…I didn’t bring any money with me.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be daft, Brian. You’re here at my invitation. I wouldn’t dream of asking you for a penny.”

Brian looked mortified. “Oh. I didn’t mean to imply…I’m sorry, Mr. Marley. I’m not used to socialising with, erm, people of your calibre.”

“Perhaps it’s time you got used to it, Brian. I can see you have a lot of potential.” He noticed a blush rising to Brian’s cheeks. “But you sit down,” he went on. “I’ll get those rolls and join you in a second.”

“All right,” Brian said. “And thank you very much, Mr. Marley. Much appreciated.” He shuffled over to a vacant table and sat down, looking uncomfortably out of place.

At the bar, Trevor paid for their rolls, and he was about to pocket his change when the barman made a point of glaring at Brian; it looked as if he was going to complain about the workman’s dusty clothes. Trevor smiled and slid the change back across the bar. “And have one for yourself, old chap. Make it a large one if you like.”

The barman beamed and scooped up the money with a practised motion. “Thank you very much, sir,” he said and walked away without a backward glance.

Trevor picked up the plates and made his way over to Brian, thinking quickly. Up on that ledge, he’d had to make a snap decision. Since then, he’d been going over the whole situation, looking at it from every angle. And the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. This really was a golden opportunity for him after all. He’d show Matthews what he was made of, and Grigson too. Humiliate Trevor Marley would they? Ignore him? Not this time. He’d cover up this mess and bring the project in on time. And then, without their even knowing it, Matthews and Grigson would owe him a big favour. Trevor savoured the feeling. All he had to do was wait for the right moment—the moment when he could let Matthews know how close his precious project had come to disaster. Only then would Trevor reveal how he’d saved the day.