Warhol's Prophecy (48 page)

Waterhole and their various partners emerged into the glare of camera flashes and a volley of questions.

‘There they are, Dad,’ said Becky excitedly.

Rob nodded and watched as the band members made their way towards the main entrance.

‘That’s Craig and Simon,’ Becky informed him. ‘They’re brothers.’

Rob watched impassively.

Craig Levine was wearing a battered leather jacket, jeans and a baseball cap. Close behind him, Jenny Kenton adjusted her dark glasses, ran a hand through her hair, and stared unsmilingly at the assembled photographers.

As the other band members made their way towards the entrance, two of them adopted a goose-stepping march.

Becky giggled. Rob shook his head.

‘They’re great, aren’t they, Dad?’ Becky said.

‘If you say so, babe,’ Rob murmured, grinning at her.

He saw Nicholas Barber posing for more photos, this time with both Marsh
and
the band.

Then they all made their way inside, the photographers still shouting for more pictures.

Rob looked around.

Where the hell was Hailey? Surely she should be here by now?

‘Where’s Mum?’ Becky wanted to know, as if reading his mind.

‘She’ll be here soon.’

I hope.

He noticed that Walker hadn’t arrived yet either.

Rob swung himself out of the car and helped Becky down. Thoughts were tumbling through his mind, some of which he didn’t care for.

Were Hailey and Walker together now? Snatching a moment behind his back?

He tried to drive the thoughts away, but they remained.

‘Mum won’t be long,’ he said, taking Becky’s hand as they made their way towards the main hotel entrance.

As they were climbing the three steps that led into the foyer, one of the photographers called to them – obviously taking no chances. Among this sea of nobodies might be someone important, so best to get everything on film.

They turned round and he took Becky’s photo.

The little girl giggled and pressed her head against Rob’s thigh.

He grinned and ruffled her hair.

‘There you go, babe,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Now
you’re
famous.’

Behind them the cars continued to arrive.

T
HEY DROVE IN
silence.

Hailey unwilling to speak. Caroline unable to.

In the back seat, Walker remained quiet: gaze fixed on the two women in front of him.

Every now and then, Hailey would glance into the wing-mirror on her side of the car, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, but it was shrouded in darkness.

She had no idea which of them the gun was pointing at.

Once or twice she had glanced across at Caroline and seen the terror on her face: her jaw clamped shut, a knot of muscles pulsing at the side.

Hailey had wanted to ask what was going on. But each time she had tried to speak, it seemed as if her mouth would not open.

All she could think about was the gun.

Gun?

No matter how many times she ran the word through her mind, it didn’t seem to register. She and Caroline were being held at gunpoint.

Impossible?

If only it was. This seemed all
too
real.

Hailey tried to swallow, but her throat felt as if it was filled with chalk. Fear had dried her mouth more effectively than blotting paper. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Caroline never took her eyes off the road.

It became apparent to Hailey, after the first few moments, that they were heading towards Walker’s house.

Thoughts tumbled through her head with incredible speed.

Jump from the car?

They were moving at a steady forty. She would probably be killed in the fall, or hit by an oncoming car.

But her recurring thought was of Becky. She was convinced she was never going to see her daughter again.

Caroline swung the car into the street where Walker’s house stood.

Now, when the car stops, run like hell?

In her fevered mind’s-eye she could see him raising the pistol, shooting her in the back as she ran.

Again she tried to swallow. Still she couldn’t.

Caroline parked the car and waited for further instructions.

‘Get out,’ Walker said. ‘Walk to the front door, slowly.’

He was out first, the gun held low.

Caroline nearly stumbled as she made her way to the door. Her legs would barely support her.

Hailey walked behind her, not daring to glance round at him.

Run now. He won’t fire the gun in the street – will he?

Walker unlocked the front door and ushered them inside, closing it behind him. He left the lights off.

Hailey heard the key turn once more. They were locked in.

In the semi-darkness she saw the glistening barrel of the pistol.

‘Go through,’ Walker instructed them, nodding towards the study.

They obeyed. What else could they do?

There were two chairs set in the middle of the room.

Both had pieces of nylon rope hanging over the back.

‘Caroline, sit down,’ Walker said evenly. ‘Hailey, tie her up.’

For long seconds the women hesitated, looking helplessly at each other.

Hailey saw tears welling up in her friend’s eyes. She felt as if she herself might lose control any minute.

‘Do it,’ Walker repeated softly, his voice almost a whisper.

With shaking hands, Hailey began her task.

Rob looked at his watch.

How much longer?

He sipped at his mineral water and looked around the dining room of the hotel.

It was bedlam: the noise, the constant ebb and flow from table to table, the clutch of people standing around the bar, the waiters and waitresses moving about so efficiently amidst the throng.

He saw James Marsh talking to the group.

Saw Craig Levine pointing towards his groin and laughing. The crowd around him laughed, too.

Nicholas Barber was speaking to a couple of local councillors.

David Easton – the bass player with Waterhole – was juggling with peanuts, to the obvious delight of the roadies watching him.

Beside him, his girlfriend, a stunning raven-haired woman wearing a red dress that looked as if it had been sprayed on, was chatting to Jenny Kenton, who was sipping her spritzer and looking regally around her. Occasionally she adjusted her dark glasses.

‘Where’s Mum?’ said Becky.

‘She’ll be here soon, babe,’ Rob replied, putting his arm around his daughter’s shoulders.

I hope.

He continued to scan the heaving mass of people.

No sign of Walker or Caroline Hacket either.

Again Rob looked at his watch.

H
AILEY TRIED TO
twist her arms behind her back, to free them from the rope cutting into her flesh.

It was useless. Walker had tied her too tightly.

She could only sit helplessly opposite Caroline who was weeping silently, tears coursing down her cheeks.

‘Why are you doing this?’ Hailey finally asked. Each word seemed like an effort; her voice cracked as she spoke.

He flicked on the light in the study and walked to one end of it.

Towards the huge canvas covered by a sheet.

‘Adam, please,’ Hailey said imploringly, forced to fight back her own tears.

He paused for a second and looked first at Caroline, then at Hailey.

‘You really
don’t
understand, do you?’ he murmured.

Hailey shook her head and sniffed.

Walker crossed to her and wiped away the single tear that trickled down her cheek.

For precious seconds Hailey found herself gazing deep into his eyes. He stepped back slightly.

‘You don’t realize that all this is for
you
,’ he said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

‘All what?’ Hailey tried to control her breathing.

‘The first time we ever met, I helped you. I found your daughter. I saved her. I brought her back to you.’

‘And I appreciate that,’ Hailey said, sniffing back more tears.

Walker smiled crookedly. ‘You had a funny way of showing it.’

‘I’m
sorry
,’ Hailey blurted out.

‘Sorry. I’ve heard that word so many times during my life,’ he muttered. ‘And it’s never meant anything.’

Caroline was still crying softly. Hailey looked across, saw her body quivering.

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Walker continued, his gaze never leaving Hailey.

‘Then what
do
you want, Adam?’ Hailey asked. ‘Just tell me. If there’s anything I can do to help, just . . .’

‘Like showing my work to Waterhole?’ he chided. ‘You
were
going to help me, weren’t you? But you didn’t.’ He moved towards the study door. Stood there a moment, then slipped out.

Hailey could hear his footsteps in the next room.

‘Caroline,’ she whispered, trying to control her breathing.

Her friend looked at her blankly.

‘We’ve got to get out,’ Hailey insisted.

As she spoke, she twisted frantically within the confines of the rope, wincing as it cut into her flesh.

‘Help me,’ she rasped.

Caroline could only shake her head.

Walker re-entered the room. Hailey could see the pistol jammed into his belt.

If only she could get her hands free. Could she reach it?

And . . .

And what? Grab it? Wrestle it from his grip? Shoot him?

There was a large wooden chest close by. It looked antique. Expensive.

Walker crossed to it and lifted the lid.

‘I tried to help you,’ he said, reaching inside.

He turned to face her, arms outstretched.

‘This was just for you,’ snarled Walker.

Hailey’s eyes bulged in their sockets.

Walker was holding up the severed heads of Sandra Bennett and David Layton.

Hailey finally found the breath to scream.

I
T WAS ALL
Hailey could do not to vomit.

Her stomach contracted violently as Walker stepped towards her, holding each of the heads by its hair, pushing them towards her.

Caroline Hacket’s entire body was shaking. If not for the nylon restraints, she would have fallen to the floor.

She stared in horror at the heads, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Hailey tried to look away, to tear her gaze from the monstrous sight before her.

The blood on the severed heads had congealed black in places – in the deep wounds on Sandy Bennett’s face.

One of David Layton’s eyes had been sliced in two by a particularly savage cut. Part of its eyelid was hanging like a tendril.

The other eye was wide open. It fixed her with a blank stare, the soft orb already close to liquescing.

God alone knew how long these heads had been decomposing in that antique trunk.

‘This woman almost destroyed your marriage,’ said Walker, holding up Sandy Bennett’s head. ‘She almost destroyed
you
– that’s what you told me.’

Hailey screwed her eyes tight shut until stars danced behind the lids.

‘And this man, her brother,’ Walker continued, ‘he was scum.’

‘How did you know he was her brother?’ Hailey blurted.

‘I followed him for a couple of days. I watched him. I even spoke to him once. I saw him with her. With others he knew.’ Walker shook his head. ‘He wasn’t a very nice man, Hailey.’

He dropped the heads onto the floor, where they landed with a thud.

‘You didn’t have to kill them,’ Hailey whispered.

‘You said
you
would have killed whoever it was who attacked Rob,’ he reminded her.

He walked across to where Caroline sat motionless, her face drained of colour, her eyes riveted to the severed heads.

Hailey glanced at her friend and saw the glazed stare. She guessed that Caroline had gone into shock.

Walker began massaging her shoulders gently.

‘And what now?’ Hailey wanted to know, watching his fingers working tenderly on her friend’s shoulders and neck.

He continued his gentle ministrations.