The Flood (10 page)

Eve.

She spoke very slowly, and in a voice which seemed to falter with every word.

“I must get away from here, quickly. If I do, it might delay him, might even stop him. Of course this is what he’s always meant to do.” She clenched her hands. “He’s often told me that before I was born he had decided to call me Eve if I were a girl, Adam if I were a man.” Something in what she said shocked her again. She clutched his hands. “Mr. Woburn, you must get me away from here. If he can’t find me he’ll have to stop, and I couldn’t stand—”

She broke off.

Hysteria was very close to the surface again.

She burst out: “I couldn’t stand it. Do you understand, you must get me out of here. Quickly,
quickly”
Her breath was coming in short, panting gasps, her eyes were flashing with a touch of genuine dread – and a dread of something he didn’t really comprehend.

Then, she turned towards the window again. Some power she couldn’t command made her do so. Woburn turned, also. As he did so, another man walked with a long, springy stride towards the door in the wall, tall, powerful, naked to the waist.

A voice inside Woburn’s mind whispered:
“Adam”

The young man opened the door which led to the animals, and closed it behind him. He was taller than the keeper, who was on the far side of the pasture land, and waved to him. He waved back. There was nothing really statuesque about him; this wasn’t a kind of Tarzan, with massive shoulders and great muscles and limbs as strong as a beast’s, but a tall, lean, handsome man, who moved with superlative ease. He tried no tricks of any kind, as far as Woburn could see, but began to move among the animals, both tame and wild, with complete freedom from fear.

The leopard stalked towards him.

The young man, who wore only a pair of slacks and sandals, put out a hand and rubbed the beast’s neck; as a child might rub a kitten’s fur, or a fond owner ruffle a dog. The leopard stood quite still. The man moved towards the keeper, and most of the animals turned to look at him; several of them followed. A parrot, scarlet and green plumage so bright that in flight it made Woburn blink, perched on his shoulders.

Then, Woburn saw a panther stalking towards him; huge, black, sleek, shiny in colour. Rabbits hardly troubled to hop out of its way. It actually pushed a squirrel to one side, came up to the man, then raised its head and muzzled him.

Eve said: “You
must
get me out of here.”

She didn’t need to say another word.

‘Adam’ looked as physically perfect as a man could, but obviously she hated the sight, the thought of him. Downstairs was her father, either ill with his own remorse or sick of his own lust for this kind of perfection. He had conceived this, and step by step he had gone on ruthlessly, to bring it about.

A new flood, to cleanse the world.

A new Garden of Eden.

A new Adam and Eve.

“Do you hear me?” Eve said fiercely. “We must get away from here! Did anyone else come with you? Is help near?”

Woburn had to say: “No.”

“You shouldn’t have come alone!” She was almost wild with fear. “We must go now, we’ve got—”

“Eve,” Woburn said, “we’re not going. Not yet. Between us we might be able to see this through. We
might
be able to stop it. At least, we can find out where else the
octi
are breeding, what other places are in danger, how grave the danger is.” His voice was steady, and the words measured; he felt the influence of Palfrey and the Russian as he went on, looking steadily into Eve’s eyes. “We might be killed in the process. But if we had to live in purgatory for the rest of our lives, it would still be worth while trying to stop this thing from happening.”

He took her hands.

“Listen to me, Eve! We saw a village drowned with a hundred and fifty people in it. If we can keep our heads we might save a town, a city or a country from drowning.

“Because you know what he means to do, don’t you?

“He means to drown or kill all the creatures in the world, men, beasts and birds, until there are only two left of those species he desires. Two of each species – male and female. And—

“We have to find out his strength,” Woburn finished. “At least, we have to try.”

She turned away from Woburn and with a movement which reminded him vividly of her earlier grace she went down on her knees by the side of the chair. Her lips moved. He did not hear a word that she said, although he sensed the words: “Oh, God.” He watched as she prayed. He felt the warmth of the sun. He felt the desperate need of courage to face a situation which was beyond his full understanding, beyond his true comprehension. He could see the outline of Gabriel Davos’s scheme, could even grasp the fantasy of the conception, but – he could not see a single thing that he or Eve could do to stop it.

Yet.

He had to find out more.

He had to get word to Palfrey about what was planned, too. But he had seen no pigeons – only the doves. But he hadn’t been out in those grounds yet—

He had to find out where the danger from the
octi
was greatest. It would take time; precious, desperate time.

Eve opened her eyes, and stood up.

She didn’t look at Woburn, but went to the window. He wished that he could guess what was passing through her mind. She was calmer; at least that was certain, and the glitter of hysteria had gone. He joined her at the window, and he rested a hand on her shoulder. He knew exactly what he had to say, and also that it had to be said now. When they were out of this room, they might not have another chance to talk together.

She asked flatly: “What do you want to do?”

“There’s only one thing to do,” Woburn said. “I must try to find out more of what’s happening here, and you must get out, tell the authorities what we know and. . . come back to help me.”

He didn’t believe she would be allowed to come back. He wanted her out of here; alive. He felt quite sure that he was suspected of being sent by Palfrey, that he would be questioned sooner or later, and even if he stuck closely to Palfrey’s briefing, he would be kept here.

He
might
be wrong.

If he could get Eve to go away—

Eve asked flatly: “Do you understand what you’re asking?” She didn’t look out of the window, didn’t give the question any emphasis.

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” Woburn said, and he sounded almost savage. “To save a hundred, a thousand or a million people from being drowned like the villagers of Wolf. And don’t tell me you can’t make the attempt. You can as well as I.”

She didn’t answer.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Why don’t you speak?”

His voice was rough. “Eve, what—” he paused, with a shock of surprise and a new, stabbing fear. “Eve! We can’t be overheard, can we?”

The question startled her.

“No, of course not! This is just the Tower Room. There aren’t any other rooms up here. Only the lift.”

Woburn’s fears were vivid, now.

“It could be wired up for a microphone.”

“Why should it be?” Eve asked, sharply. “Why—” she broke off, as if she were suddenly aware of the possibility; and she lost the colour that had been creeping back. Then, vehemently: “Of course it isn’t! Surely I would have known.”

“Probably you would,” Woburn agreed. But he knew what could be done with a few wires and an amplifier; give him anything electrical and he could make sense. He went to the lift, opened the door, and scanned the sides. He studied the brass control panel, the stops, everything. He found no evidence of a microphone, and the lift was obviously the most likely place for one up here. He examined the floor of the small room; there was only parquet flooring, with a few rugs.

There was no trace at all of a microphone.

The search took him ten minutes. During it, Eve hadn’t said a word. When he finished, she was standing at the window.

“If you’ve stopped wasting time—” she began.

He grinned at her.

He did not realise what happened then, and she showed no sign of understanding; but that spontaneous grin was the first thing that passed between them, quite free from tension. Her tartness had a more normal note, too.

“From now on, we don’t take any chances,” Woburn said. “I’d like to live a little longer.”

“Do you seriously think we can find out what you want to know?”

“That’s not the point,” Woburn said bluntly. “We can already see some of the gambits, and no one’s likely to realise that we’ve guessed the truth. I’m bound to be questioned – and I can cope. You’ve got to key yourself up to act normally; to be yourself. You’re worried about your father and grieving for your sister. That’s all.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“If they should let me go this time,” Woburn said, softly, “I’ll get a message to the police. Then I’ll come back here. I’ll tell your father and others that I’ve come back,” he repeated very slowly and deliberately, “just to see you.” He could almost laugh. “Rival to Adam!”

There was a gleam in Eve’s eyes. Hope?

That was the moment when Woburn understood what his grin had done; it wasn’t until later that he realised that those few minutes of desperate prayer had been the turning point for Eve. He wasn’t concerned then with causes, only results.

He went on quickly: “They might guess what I’m trying to do, but there’s no reason to think they’ll suspect that you’re helping me. That’s the chief hope of success.” He was gripping her hands tightly. “Do you see it? –
you’re
the hope of success. You’ll have to look for the evidence about the
octi
while I draw the fire.” He tried to make it sound simple and straightforward, and not a fantasy. “Just the one thing matters,” he told her harshly. “Finding out about the
octi
, how they’re made, how to control them.”

Eve asked: “What will happen if my father decides to leave the Castle?”

“I don’t know, but I can have a damned good guess,” Woburn said. “He’ll be followed. Eve.” He was facing her squarely. “I was pitchforked into this affair by accident. I came to find the origin of the
octi,
and God knows I’ll have to try. But I can’t be sure that we will get outside help in time. There’s no evidence of crime. Anyone who’d heard us in the past half hour would probably say we’re crazy. The best thing is to assume that we’re on our own.”

She took that well. Woburn believed that she would keep steady from now on, and wouldn’t break down. But the deep hurt in her eyes was painful, and he had to look away from her.

He turned and what he saw made him shout:
“Look!”

Eve swung round and they stood tensely, watching.

The man Adam and the keeper were walking towards the door in the wall, facing the Tower Room – and behind them, crouching as if stalking its prey, was the black panther.

They were oblivious of it.

Although no sound came, Woburn could tell that they were talking, for their lips were moving. Adam said something which made the keeper smile and spread his hands.

“We must warn them,” Woburn shouted. “Can we open a window? Can we?”

Eve moved and pressed a button at the side of the nearest window. The panther seemed to crouch until its long jaw almost touched the ground, and its great haunches were poised, ready to spring. None of the other animals seemed concerned.

The window slid up.

“Look out, there!” Woburn roared, “
behind you!”
He waved wildly as he shouted, and saw both men look up. They were a hundred yards away from him, and there was no way of telling whether they heard.

But they saw him.

Both men whipped round. To Woburn, it looked as if they moved at the same moment as the panther. It went for them, like a black streak, magnificent in sleek, shiny beauty.

Adam skipped to one side.

The keeper hardly seemed to move, but next moment the panther was behind them. The beast landed on its front feet and, in desperate endeavour to turn before its quarry had gone, seemed to pirouette. Adam moved back, easily. The keeper stood his ground, but he had taken something from his pocket. A gun.

“For God’s sake
hurry,”
breathed Woburn.

The panther was still moving, getting ready for its next spring. The keeper pointed the gun. There was no flash and no sound, but a little cloud billowed out from the wide muzzle, and for a moment it enshrouded the panther’s head. Quite casually, the keeper slipped the gun back into his pocket,
and moved forward.

“Keep away,” Woburn cried. “Keep away!”

Eve’s fingers touched the back of his hand.

“It will be all right now,” she said, and waited. The keeper reached the black beast, as the cloud of vapour or gas dispersed. He put out a hand and smoothed the panther’s head, then knelt down and seemed to be talking to it. The panther was not unconscious, but lay limp. Woburn saw its haunches quivering. Adam came forward and watched, as if amused; his expression was one that one might expect to see on someone rebuking a careless child.

Eve was saying: “I don’t know what the gas is, but my father once told me that it is an extract of curare. The muscles are temporarily atrophied, but the nerves and all the senses are alert. That’s how they are trained. That’s why there is little or no fear of them. The effect of the gas is always instantaneous. One man was mauled, as they would have been.” She stopped, as the keeper stood up but didn’t move away. “But I always feel terrified at this stage.”

The panther began to struggle to its feet and the effort seemed to take all its strength. Once on all fours, it collapsed like a colt which had just left its mother. Up – down. The sleek black fur shimmered in the sun, with the movement and with the quivering of the great muscles which were coming back to life.

Finally it kept on its feet.

The keeper spoke to it again, and the sound of his voice travelled clearly, although they couldn’t distinguish the words. For all Woburn knew, he might be saying: “Be off with you.” He pointed towards a corner of the pasture, and the panther turned and moved off. It didn’t skulk or slink away but went quite normally, until it reached the shadow of a tree. It hesitated beneath the leafy branches, looked up, and then leapt. A moment later, all Woburn could see was a stretch of its back; it was nearly hidden by the leaves.

He relaxed, very slowly.

The keeper and Adam turned and looked up at the window, then waved. Eve didn’t raise a hand; Woburn acknowledged the gesture. Then the two men moved towards the door in the wall, and came into the rose garden.

Five minutes later, Eve said: “I think we ought to go downstairs.”