Three Corners of Destiny(James Calton) “Three Corners of
Destiny”

A Novel
By
James Calton


Prologue

I finally walk into the office three hours late. Being on the third floor of the building I have a couple of minutes to relax before I hit the madness of a busy call centre. Taking my time climbing the stairs I start to think of some of the people who will be waiting in anticipation for me to arrive. Knowing the way the hierarchy works within the company I know that, what was a private call will have been Chinese whispered around the room. As I approach the door it never occurs to me that I can’t hear anything through the wall. I stop with my hand on the door; I take a second then open it. What was it Shakespeare wrote “Once more unto the breach dear friends”? I prepared myself for the deluge of questions that will undoubtedly hit me, but nothing happens.

No questions, no noise, no lights, no people. My first thought is that maybe I have walked onto the wrong floor. I turn back out to the corridor to make sure. “Level two: Mortgages” I stare at the sign for nearly twenty seconds.
“Where the hell is everyone?” I say out loud, as if to make sure I am still there. With a hint of nervousness creeping in, I decide to head downstairs. I had passed at least three people on my way up, there had to be someone who knew what was going on. My best bet would be the security guard who seemed to know everything. I let out a stifled laugh.
“I’ve probably screwed up my shifts” I mutter feeling utterly ridiculous. I enter the second stairwell off the first floor. I hit the third step when the lights go out. I miss the next two steps catching the third my ankles goes under me and I roll until I hit the landing halfway down the staircase. A little dazed I try to get to my feet; but the extreme bolt of pain that erupts from my ankle prevents me. I feel annoyed but also a little relieved, it is small comfort as I realise it means there was someone in the building. Maybe they could tell me where the hell everybody was.

I cautiously get to my feet, tentatively feeling my way up the wall trying to figure out how close I am to the edge of the staircase. Standing upright I step towards the overhang of the stair. Holding my breath I make solid contact, and as I try to pull my injured leg forwards I sway a little. With no one there to see, I drop any hint of a masculine façade and let out a low whimper. Gaining control of my balance and my waning pain threshold I take a baby step forward.

It was then I first hear the laughing. It is a full deep booming sound that seems to emanate from the walls. Now, any rational person would get angry at this point, thinking they had been the victim of a practical joke. I usually see myself as rational, but there is something in that noise that makes every nerve-ending in my spine goes into overdrive. I reach the first floor and stop. I am confronted with a wall of darkness, I inch forwards slowly, towards where I think the door to the first floor office is supposed to be, heading towards what I hope will be answers.

Nothing; I kind of expect it. The room is deserted. I step through the door, but the laughing seems to get louder the further in I go, and at this stage I’ll admit I am starting to feel a little weird so I back out and shut the door. The fire protection seal hisses behind me as it makes the empty room safe from any hazard, as it does this, the laughter stops. This does not have the desired effect. For a split second I think I will calm down, but then the temperature drops at least twenty degrees in the time it takes for me to draw a breath. I can feel the icy cold of my breath as it drifts aimlessly through my nose. I stop in the middle of the landing frozen with fear. I can feel someone else’s breath on the back of my neck. I stand, arms clamped to my sides; an earthquake would not have moved me from that spot. I have never in my life felt the kind of fear that courses through me at that point. My brain is doing somersaults. It doesn’t know what to do: run, fight, scream, laugh, cry? Just as I begin to fear that I would die of panic, the blood draining from my body, the breath stops and the temperature in the room goes back to normal.

I stand motionless for a good thirty seconds before my conscious self regains control of my motor functions and I realise that I can move. After a couple of very nervous steps I pick up my pace, not wanting to be in the building anymore. This time I approach the stairs carefully and start down, hardly feeling the throbbing pain in my ankle. My heart is racing, feeling like it wants to break open my chest and race me down the stairs.

My feet are trying to keep pace with my heart but failing miserably so I start to fall again. But this time I make it to what was supposed to be the bottom floor. At various points through your life you have flashes of inspiration or realisation. It is now just as I hit the bottom floor that I realise I have a small torch attached to my keys. Fumbling about in my pocket I manage to pull it out and turn it on. It is pathetic, the light splutters into the gloom. It barely manages to put a dent into the darkness let alone cut through it, the small beacon of light dances around the shadows. I have no sense of where I am until it lands on a part of the wall that causes my heart to thud in my chest.
The sign directly in front of me, it is against all logic, there is no way that its right. “Second Floor: Mortgages”, I have to read it four times to make sure I am not seeing things. I swing the torch left, to the door that theoretically should lead to the exit, but part of me knows it won’t.

Even though I refuse to believe it I know that the door will lead to my office. I do not want to go in there. You know when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t, your conscience will pop and say something that will stop you. This was something similar, a voice in my head is screaming “ What the hell are you doing moron? Get out of here” even as I am thinking this, my feet decide that they do not care about what might be in there, so taking on a mind of their own they start to move towards the door.
Taking hold of the handle I can feel something warm and sticky underneath. Almost not wanting to know, I hesitantly shine the torch at my hand. Blood, my palm is coated in a thick layer of blood. I can feel my stomach start to retch as it decides that this is the limit. But it’s no good, the irrational side of me is winning the war that is waging in my subconscious and decides to push through the madness and open the door. The image is there for only a moment, but it is long enough. They are everywhere, every one of my friends, people I work with sprawled across the floor of the room. The blood covers every available inch of space; it is as though someone had turned on a high-pressure hose and just gone nuts. It’s like a scene from a battlefield; the bodies are in every conceivable position. In that second I know that none of them will ever walk from the room again. The thought of the image makes me stagger, my head wanting to faint but still my feet continue in. I stand in the empty room, my brain has decided to shut down, and I am working on autopilot. Then with a flash I feel something crash into the back of me. I crumple to the floor. Turning as soon as I can I try to see what happened but nothing is there. I Lean up on my elbows breathing so hard that I can feel my lungs, I look round the room in terror. Then the laughter starts again, only this time I know it was coming from something standing not five feet away from me, hidden in the shadowy corner. It comes straight at me, fierce and powerful. The face comes into the range of my torchlight and I see it. I don’t know if it is the shock of what I see or the smash I receive to my face, but I’m out.

It takes me a second to register that I am still lying in the empty office, but I am on my own this time. After another thirty seconds I decide I have the energy to stand up. Very unsteadily I take a step forward, I swear I can see light on the other side of the door, so I head that way. It is then I hear a crash coming from the staircase on the other side of the wall. My first thought, even with everything that is going on, is “some silly sod has missed a step and taken a tumble”. It then occurs to me that I am on my own so who fell down the stairs? “It must have been me,” I say out loud. I don’t know why but I find this notion ridiculously funny and start to laugh. I can’t help it, my laugh gets louder and more hysterical the closer I get to the door.

Stepping through, I catch sight of the lift door open, its single light bulb shining like a lighthouse calling the ships home. I get in and press down. Then, realising there is no power, I laugh harder than before. All of a sudden the doors shut and the lift starts to move, I am at breaking point by this time and the unexpected movement of the lift tips me over the edge. The doors open with me still laughing. Staggering out I start to make my way towards the next flight of stairs. But as I do I hear something moving around in the office to my left. I turn and head towards the far corner where I knew whoever it is can’t see me. When the door opens I can dimly see a figure hobble out. I begin to sneak up behind them but stop about a foot short. Something cracks in my mind. After about ten seconds I turn, move back towards the stairs and head back up to the second floor. As I climb I can’t help but think “This can not be happening it’s impossible!” I don’t even notice the temperature fluctuation again. I am taking the steps two at a time; any thought of my ankle is long gone. I almost leap through the door of the office not stopping until I hit the darkest corner possible. I sit there curled in a ball for less than five minutes when the door opens and the figure walks in.
I let it get three or four feet into the room then I charge. I run with all the force I can muster crashing hard into the back of it. My momentum takes me straight past and into the shadows on the other side of the room.

I skirt the edge trying to stay hidden but I start laughing again. Only this doesn’t sound like me, it is a strange noise; it’s like someone else’s laugh is coming from my mouth. Making sure I am facing it I creep closer to the doors. I get to within ten feet when a computer keyboard crackles beneath my step. Picking it up without even thinking I run. It seems my subconscious war isn’t over, because my brain thinks I am going run out of the door but my feet have decided that they weren’t finished; they run straight at the figure on the floor. I am now within two feet and I can clearly see its face. In the same instant I bring the keyboard down across it with a blow as heavy as I can force. Then turning on the spot I run back through the door.

*

“I have that exact dream most nights.” Paul said with a worried glance towards the psychiatrist.
“What does it mean?” he continued. The shrink just looked at him with an open mouth, but soon regained his composure by looking intently at his notes trying to come up with something to say, anything!
Paul had been seeing this particular shrink for six months and had finally felt comfortable enough to tell him about the dream he has. But as soon as he saw the look on the shrinks face when he had finished explaining the dream, Paul knew it was time to move onto number… he counted them on his fingers, “Will this be thirteen or fourteen?” he thought to himself.



Chapter 1

Paul spent most of his teenage years in some sort therapist’s office, anger, psycho, new age, his parents decided that they would try anything in order to “make you normal honey!” He didn’t blame them really, his “episodes” as the doctors called them, got steadily worse as he matured. Fortunately he never hurt anybody but he found a sense of pleasure in seeing others suffer or struggle. The moments of perverse excitement Paul found witnessing the evil the world produced would cause him no end of guilt and shame. I think that’s what hurt him the most. When Paul turned 20 he decided to branch out on his own and unburden his parents of his ever deepening isolation and depression.
Just as he was getting to the end of his resistance, something happened that refocused his life, giving it meaning.

“Friday the thirteenth” he said to himself, “I can’t believe my birthday is on Friday the 13th”. Paul wasn’t a superstitious person but waking up on that particular morning, he knew he was in trouble. Paul had been on new medication for a month and it seemed to be working quite well. He felt different, he felt happy with his existence for the first time in years. But on the morning of his 26th birthday he dropped down the thousand feet he had climbed back to where he started. Nothing was going right that morning; he had burnt the toast, spilt his tea, and had torn his shirt.

Things then got progressively worse as the day wore on, by lunchtime he felt so low that nothing could have made him feel worse. He had been in the mortgage business for nearly three years when Becki started. After entering the kitchenette for his fourth cup of what was supposed to be coffee in just four hours he saw her. She must have been nearly six feet tall, red hair with pale blue eyes so deep that you could easily drown in them. Later that evening, when he thought about her again, he made a mental note that the fact that she had a body that could make a grown man melt was just an added bonus. His fascination grew and lust very quickly turned to love when he first spoke to her. She had been there about three weeks when the accidental meeting in the kitchenette triggered the upgrade. He was standing at the microwave heating up another cup of ‘coffee’ when in swept Becki. It wasn’t as though Paul was a shy person but this woman took his breath away, she left him utterly incapable of speech. Becki stepped through the door backwards, finishing a conversation with someone in the hallway. Turning round to face the kitchenette she was completely unaware of Paul standing there. As she turned, her arm knocked the cup from his hand and sent it crashing to the ground. Quickly she placed her Winnie the Pooh coffee cup on the side, reaching out for the sink to help her balance, she crouched down.

She was so embarrassed by her clumsiness that she flushed with colour. Grabbing a cloth from the work surface she bent to clean up the tanned brown liquid. As she bent, her top fell open revealing her plentiful chest lovingly held in place by a white lace bra. Paul tried to avert his gaze before she caught him looking. He was too late though, Becki had seen him and a sultry smile flickered across her face.

They ended up talking their entire break away, for a full thirty minutes they sat on the floor of the kitchenette laughing and gossiping about everything and nothing. After what Paul thought were the best thirty minutes of his life he headed back to the office with a deliriously happy gormless grin across his face. Becki called to get his attention, wanting to talk to him alone, before he went back into the office. He was so deep into his own thoughts that he didn’t hear her until her third attempt. The two of them stood facing each other for, as far as Paul could tell, well he couldn’t, nothing existed besides them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence however; the strength of their gaze was so filled with meaning and passion that neither of them had to say a word. It was Becki that broke the link; she made the forward move and asked him out for a drink that night after work. Using every fibre of his body to stay cool he tried to say yes, but could only nod. They swapped mobile numbers and headed back to work. He could not concentrate on anything for the rest of the day and found himself continuously thinking about her, which more than once caused him to drift off into a daydream when he should have been thinking about what the customers were telling him.
*

“How does some one like me deserve some one like her” he thought dreamily as he was helplessly drifting around the department store wondering what he should buy her for their two year anniversary. His life and his relationship with Becki began strong and passionate and got hotter as the time went on. From the time he had met her he had not had a single reoccurrence of his problem. He was still taking his medicine without fail, but he was so used to the routine that he barely even thought about it anymore. He had told Becki about his past and his problem four weeks into their relationship. They had laid wrapped in each other’s arms on his faded green sofa. It took him fifteen minutes to fully explain his entire story not leaving anything out wanting to be completely honest. When he finished his story she didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. When she finally spoke she turned her head to face him, their noses touching, kissed him and said “Oh well, no body’s perfect” and that was it.

They never had an argument that wasn’t fun. They never fought or fell out, it was like a dream for the both of them and Paul never wanted to wake up.

Unfortunately he did, twenty-eight months to the day after their first date it all ended. They had arranged to meet after work for a meal. Paul was away on a training course that day so they were going to meet at the restaurant. Paul had secretly been planning that evening for over a month. That night in the middle of her favourite restaurant he was going to propose.
Five thirty came and Paul became increasingly anxious, wanting to leave. However, it seemed his trainer had other ideas. “There are still things to cover” he was repeatedly told. In truth his attention dissolved when the clock hit five o’clock. Paul managed to sneak a message to Becki telling her of the problem. In their relationship they never got mad at each other but if one of them let the other down they would make them pay. Becki knew exactly how to make him suffer. For her birthday Paul had bought them both a video mobile, so even when they weren’t together they could see each other. So fifteen minutes before Paul was due to finish she pulled into the car park of the Golf Club and Hotel where his training was taking place. Making sure no one could see her she stripped to her underwear. Picking up her phone and a Humphrey Bogart rain coat she stepped out of the car. As she made her way through the building towards Paul she was sure that everyone knew that underneath her coat she was only wearing her underwear, the idea of this made her quiver with anticipation and excitement. She arrived at the closed door, propped the phone on a nearby shelf and pressed record. She then opened her coat and removed her underwear, nervously excited the door might open on her. She felt herself becoming more aroused and began to imagine the events she had planned for their romantic evening.

Quickly doing her coat up and stuffing her bra and panties deep into one of her pockets she picked up the phone and finished the message.
Inside the room, oblivious to the saucy show just out of his sight, Paul sat looking at his watch counting the final seven minutes second by second. It took him a moment to realise that his leg was vibrating. Because they were staying longer than they should have the trainer allowed him to pick up the message. “I’m w8ting 4 u xxx” reading the message he smiled. He almost missed the play icon in the corner of the screen. They hadn’t had the phones long and this was the first video Becki had sent. As he watched the video it became physically obvious to the others what the video attached to the message contained. His colleagues started to smile and laugh as his trousers began to show his excitement. Paul was painfully aware of his current predicament but couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. When he realised where she had sent the message from he nearly lost complete control. When they finally finished he almost sprinted out of the door, faintly hearing the cheers coming from his friends back in the training room. He left the building and began to scan the car park for Becki. “Jackpot!” he said out loud, there she stood in the far corner of the car park. He began to walk towards her almost in a daze. She decided to tease him some more by opening her coat and giving him and anyone else watching an eye-full. Paul could feel his blood pound hard in his chest and groin. He began to feel light headed as more and more blood headed south to the only vital organ he was going to need.

He must have been twenty yards from her when he heard a car start, he ignored it. It was the combination of the screeching tyres and roaring engines that finally made him focus. In the blink of an eye a bright yellow Mercedes came rocketing around the corner from the direction of the Golf club bar. Paul knew exactly where it was headed but the whole world had switched to slow motion. His mind was screaming at the rest of his body to hurry, “I’ve got to get to her” he shouted inwardly but this was when his illness decided to rear its head. He just stood staring at her; she was oblivious and was still wearing an intoxicating smile that did nothing to help clear the thoughts in his mind. Then it happened, all too late she turned towards the car with a smile still on her face. Before her brain had even considered removing the smile from her face the car and her fragile body collided. She was thrown at least ten feet into the air. It wasn’t until she had bounced three times that Paul snapped out of his sickeningly morbid trance. As she ricocheted off the roof of the machine Paul ran, he ran as hard and as powerfully as he could but he felt as though he was barely moving. In his mind’s eye he could see snails rocketing past him. Paul’s heart had stopped but the car had sped away. Becki lay crumpled in a heap not far from his out-stretched arms. There were no last words, no dying requests, she was dead and that was that.
He stayed, paralysed, kneeling beside her body, and looking at her. Part of him was wondering why she wasn’t moving. He waited by her lifeless form until the ambulance and police arrived. As he was helped to his feet, his one lone thought was “I wonder if she is cold under that blanket”.


Paul didn’t fall into the bottom of a whisky bottle as you often see on TV. Instead he became numb. He worked like a man possessed, trying desperately to fill the void that had replaced his heart.
It was two months after her death when Paul finally thought he had lost the plot. He left the office at a quarter to midnight, tired and fed-up. He muttered to himself as he punched in the alarm code, if there was anyone passing by the outer office they would think he had truly lost his mind. Since Becki’s death he refused to get in a car so he had been riding a ‘much safer’ moped. First Account Mortgages was a rapidly growing company and had just relocated to much larger premises in the centre of the town. The office was situated on one of the main roads through the busy shopping and nightlife district. Whenever Paul was on a late shift he nearly always bumped into some late night revellers either on the way home or to the next night club. Before Becki’s death they would more often than not be part of the large groups staggering their way down the street.

It was a short walk to the shed where his moped was locked up, Paul had been on auto pilot since the funeral barely noticing the world around him. Not tonight though, with every step closer to the bike shed his feeling of uneasiness steadily increased. He stopped mid stride, the usually busy street was empty, the only noise he could hear was the increasingly erratic thump of his heart colliding with the inside of his rib cage. Just as Paul finally began to regain control of his nerves, the night died. The air he was breathing felt heavy in his lungs, the leaves on the blossom tree that had given his hay fever so much trouble in the spring stood still. The street seemed to echo every noise he made. His breathing reverberated off the buildings returning to him louder than it should have done. The buildings started to sway and seemed to lean in towards him; the walls of the buildings began to look like cliff faces with him trapped at the bottom of a dark abyss.
Moving forward again he knew there was something wrong, something behind him that wanted to harm or possibly kill him. Not wanting to face his new mysterious companion he made his way to the bike shed, unlocked the moped and still without looking behind him he made his way back out of the shed towards the road. By this point Paul’s heart was pounding so hard he didn’t think his chest was strong enough to contain it. He made it to the pavement and with shaking hands he attempted to insert the key in the ignition. On the fourth attempt he managed to start it. The gentle hum of the hairdryer engine instantly began to settle his nerves. Paul swung his right leg over the seat and slammed his backside down on the saddle of the bike as if to make sure it was real and firm. Settling into his riding position he placed his helmet over his head. It was then he saw the movement, as the bottom edge of the helmet covered his eyes he saw a definite figure rapidly glide across the street from his right but by the time he had a clear vision again the figure had disappeared. Paul had a vivid imagination and under normal circumstances he would have dismissed the sight as a figment of his damaged psyche. This however wasn’t a normal circumstance; every hair on his body was standing to attention as if each individual follicle was searching independently for the figure Paul had just seen. Paul was terrified, he had never known such fear the air began to feel thin as though he was thousands of feet up. When he thought he could not hold on any more his terror peaked. He could feel a warm breath on the exposed part of his neck, between the edge of the helmet and collar of his shirt. The breath gently caressing his skin sent shivers down his spine that made his entire body vibrate. He was sure he was going to faint, there was no way his mind could keep control of his body much longer. Then it touched him. A hand rested on his shoulder, for a full five seconds nothing moved. Paul dared not look. The figure did not move. He didn’t know what he expected to see when he finally did look but it wasn’t the sight that confronted him. In the brief glimpse he dared to take, he saw two things: a pair of deep purple eyes floating just over his left shoulder and on his shoulder lay a smooth manicured hand of a woman. This brought him crashing back down to earth and he finally regained full control of his motor functions.
“Are you alright Paul?” Simone asked in a worried voice. It was as though he had come out of a trance. He blinked his eyes and everything changed. The noise of the late night revellers was the first thing that hit him; they were happily staggering down the road completely oblivious to his current state of mind. The air seemed normal, the traffic flowed past and even the night sky seemed lighter.
“Paul” she said again now sounding slightly scared, “I think you should go inside I’m calling someone” she carried on, although Paul heard none of it.

After that night things were never the same, the news went round his office that the despair had gotten too much and he had had a breakdown. The next month was filled with people who he thought of as strangers pointing and staring at him, whispering behind his back. This irritated his friends more than it did him, “gets them off my back” he thought as his two closest friends peeled away from him one lunch time to verbally attack a small group who had been staring.

Paul had been begrudging the time spent with the grief counsellors up until the night “he had finally snapped” as people in the office had put it. But after that night he felt a small comfort in being able to talk to a complete stranger and know they would not judge him. The first session he fully participated in was three months to the day since Becki had died. The session lasted one hour and for the entire sixty minutes Paul poured his heart out. They discussed his despair over Becki’s death, his soul splitting loneliness even when he was in a room full of people. He also hesitantly talked about the night he had been sure that something was outside the office waiting to get him. After he had told the therapist about this he half expected this strange man he had never met before to ridicule him. He didn’t though, the man sat there and with out saying a word the therapist looked at him with a deep interest and understanding emanating from his mahogany brown eyes.

Paul really began to feel the effects of the therapy sessions; he went every day for a month and began to regain some of the humanity that had been ebbing away since Becki’s death. At the end of his first month, just as Paul prepared to leave, the therapist spoke out of session for the first time
“Paul, may I ask you something?”
“Sure, fire away.” Paul replied curiously.
“Don’t be offended if I ask this.”
“Ok.”
“Have you ever thought about turning to God for strength?” he said nervously.
Before Becki’s death Paul would have been offended by this statement. He was about to react when something in his brain put everything on pause. He stood, mind and body empty, his brain analysing the information and storing it away for future reference without really taking it in. He looked the therapist directly in the eyes and said “thank you.” He couldn’t really think of anything else to say and by the look on his face he hadn’t expected any firm reply.

Paul carried on with his life as normally as he could. As far as his friends and work colleagues could see he was coping reasonably well. He was brighter, friendlier and more socially active. Well, he had joined some of his friends for a drink after work for all of thirty minutes. He didn’t really know what to do, when he was with people he wanted to be alone and when he was on his own that was when he craved company. Although he tried to portray a brave public persona he was still inwardly collapsing.


Chapter 2

Paul had a naturally strong character and he was angry with himself for feeling so weak. Over the years he had become inwardly strong, witnessing the things he knew he shouldn’t have enjoyed and the years of therapy and tests he went through had built him an inner wall when it came to emotional pain. At this stage in his life the wall was no more than a few loose bricks scattered on the floor. He knew he would never stop loving Becki but he wanted the pain to go away, he needed the empty space in his soul to be filled.
He was running this through his mind as he walked towards the bus stop heading home after work, (after the incident at night he had given up on his moped). Standing waiting for the bus his eyes began to wonder across the horizon of the city. They came to rest upon the cathedral spire, and for the first time since he said it the therapist’s words came back to him. Without knowing it his feet began to move and he found himself walking towards what he hoped would be help.

It turned out to be a short walk to the cathedral entrance, but the entire way there he had the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. Not the same intensely frightening feeling he had last time, just that feeling you get in the back of your head occasionally, when you can almost feel someone’s gaze upon you. After looking over his shoulder for the eighth time during the ten minute walk he laughed gently to himself and felt silly for being so twitchy. This time however he had every right to feel twitchy because from the second he decided to head towards the cathedral he had gained an unseen audience. From the shadows beneath his feet and the light that bathed his head, there were thousands of pairs of eyes staring, studying him and wondering where he will eventually end up.

The entrance to the cathedral was an enormous wooden gateway with an intricately engraved arch that bordered the entrance, giving it its ethereal presence. The spire extended directly out from above the gateway making the whole experience slightly intimidating. Paul was on the verge of turning back when a young girl walked up and stood beside him staring up at the spire.
“This is my favourite place in the entire world.” she said with a firmness. Paul was slightly taken aback by her forwardness.
“Yeah, I suppose it is very pretty.” he said unsure as to how to speak to her. She looked at him with a frown.
“That’s not why.” she said almost sounding grown up.
“I come here when I feel sad, and it helps me feel better.” she said with the words almost sounding as though she had rehearsed them.
“Are you sad?” she continued without really pausing for breath.
“Yeah.” he replied more to himself than to her, his gaze slipping back towards the cathedral.
Noticing this the little girl said
“I’ve got to go now, good bye.” with that she turned and in a daydream drifted away. With his focus back on going into the cathedral he didn’t notice the little girl less than ten paces behind him turn look at him and run towards a woman hidden in the shadows watching Paul with deep purple eyes.

His vision was slightly blurry as his eyes adjusted to the light change inside the Cathedral. The interior seemed to go on for ever making Paul feel very insignificant. He began to make his way down the centre aisle up towards the alter. Hanging directly over the centre was a giant effigy of Jesus Christ surveying his kingdom with a surprisingly serine face considering he was nailed to a cross. Standing on the alter, he couldn’t help looking back up the aisle and imagine Becki gliding up it in an elegantly beautiful wedding dress. This brought a tear to his eye and all his energy seemed to get sucked out of his body and into the ground. Staggering slightly he sat down on the first pew and gently cried to himself.
He sat there for about five minutes waiting for some sort of divine intervention but nothing happened.
“He is listening, even if you don’t know it” a voice said from behind him. Paul turned to see an old man adjusting his dog collar, coming out of a small door in the side wall. Paul’s first thought as he watched the old man head towards him was how unlike a priest he looked. The man was just under six feet tall with wide broad shoulders and a face that didn’t give off an air of compassion and would not make Paul open up to him.
“Are you here for inspiration or are you just admiring the architecture?” he asked.
Paul didn’t answer because at that moment he suddenly realised that he was the only one in there. All of a sudden he felt incredibly uneasy and the oncoming priest didn’t help. The priest sat down beside him and continued talking.
“I shouldn’t really say this but unless you’re in the club this doesn’t really help” he said in what was supposed to be a friendly tone.
“In the club?” Paul asked not really interested in the answer.
“Part of the priesthood” he answered with a slightly creepy smile. With that he got up and walked away.
Paul sat there for another ten minutes not really knowing why. He didn’t know what he expected to happen but as he left he felt slightly disappointed. Heading back towards the exit he could again feel the eyes upon him and thought he saw a figure streak across his vision out of the corner of his eye. This time however, he shrugged it off as the creepy priest.

Back outside, once again bathed in sunshine he lingered by the door waiting for his eyes to get used to the light change. He stood in a large cobbled courtyard the size of half a football pitch. Various smaller buildings built in the same style as the cathedral itself but clearly nowhere near as old bordered the courtyard. Paul got his vision back and headed across towards the exit. Half way across, the air turned cold. It was as though an arctic breeze had blown through the courtyard and dropped the temperature by twenty degrees. Paul looked up, the sun was still blazing in an empty sky but still the temperature felt like mid winter. Then the sun disappeared behind a cloud that came from nowhere. The courtyard went dark as a shadow from the cathedral spire extended so rapidly from the fascia of the building that Paul felt as though it was deliberately after him. A scream of anger and terror emanated from behind and above him. Paul turned to face the direction from which the noise came.

That’s when he saw him; the creepy priest was standing on a small window ledge about thirty feet above the entranceway. The sky behind the cathedral had gone dark, making the building almost seem to come alive.
“You!” screamed the priest pointing what Paul could clearly see was a shotgun.
“You are an abomination and can not be allowed to live!” he continued as he took aim.
A shot hit the floor five feet from where he stood but still he didn’t move. Paul’s feet had been welded to the floor; he didn’t think he could move even if the shots came closer.
“You, who doesn’t even believe, you, who doesn’t have the strength to succeed on either side. You will die!” he called in a voice that did not sound human anymore.
Another shot ricocheted off the floor and hit a window in one of the surrounding buildings, this time so close to Paul’s body that he felt the air displace when it screamed past his face.

The priest seemed to be loosing his sanity second by second as he perched precariously on the window ledge. Paul had images of medieval knights standing in the same place firing arrows to keep invading marauders out of the cathedral’s sanctuary. Another shot cannoned into the floor at his feet, followed rapidly by two more. Then came another and Paul thought that this was the one that would end him. With a thought that scared him he welcomed death, hoping his pain would end. The noise of the gun echoed through the court yard and he knew this was it. Bracing himself he prepared for the impact in his chest. Nothing came, he hadn’t heard the shot hit the floor anywhere and it hadn’t hit him, so what happened?
He opened his eyes and stepped back in shock. The priest stood hand clutched to his chest, blood streaming out from between his fingers. The priests gaze was fixed on someone or something behind Paul. He turned and saw a women stepping into a car and rapidly driving away. As the red Mondeo pulled away she looked back at Paul and his heart nearly leapt from his chest, she had purple eyes.
The sound of the priest’s body hitting the cobbled court yard regained Paul’s attention. It landed with a sickening crunch, blood oozing from every point of the mangled remains. Paul stood for a moment, the world now back to normal, the sun back out, the temperature back up. You wouldn’t know what had happened if it wasn’t for the crumpled body that lay in a slow flowing stream of blood at the entrance to the cathedral. He had definitely lost his mind he thought, his body wouldn’t work he stood fascinated in the direction the priest’s blood was flowing. He stood for a couple of minutes rooted to the spot, his heart beat started to slow down and he regained control of his body. Slowly he walked towards the dead priest his mind empty of all thoughts except one, “I wonder what his brain looks like.” He stood over the corpse transfixed by the mixture of blood, hair and soft grey tissue that was protruding from a rather large hole in his head.
He was still standing there when the police and ambulance arrived, although he had no idea who had called them. The wailing of the siren finally snapped him back to reality. Looking up he saw an ambulance come tearing through the entrance to the courtyard and screech to a halt. He looked back down at the body and now that he was out of his trance he saw it for what it was and instantly threw up then collapsed.
He woke in the hospital dazed and a little confused.


Chapter 3

Two hundred miles away from Paul’s messed up existence Matthew Preston stood in the throng of frenzied journalists waiting to get a comment from the star of the latest blockbuster movie. Three years he had been doing this, stories about sex, drugs and celebrity scandal was all he had been able to work on. He started at the paper with such big ambitions; he was going to expose hard hitting stories and one day work as a real journalist reporting from the front line. He lost most of his ambition in the first year of his job but there was still some burning desire, some hidden purpose in his existence that he would fulfil one day.
After three hours standing with his hand raised in the hope that he, out of the many idiots surrounding the actor would get his question answered. He looked at his watch and sighed. He was going out that evening for a much needed drink with a few of the American football lads but that was an eternity away, another four hours.
Matt and his friends were like any other young Brits. They worked hard during the week and liked to relax at the weekend with a night out and a few drinks. They weren’t yobs but they did sometimes get a little rowdy and occasionally found themselves having to reign in a wayward friend. One of the things they liked to do was a little game called ‘Worlds worst’ They would each take turns in approaching a girl and using the worst pick up line they could possibly think of.
Matt staggered back to the group laughing, he had just been shot down after using the line “If I could rearrange the alphabet I would put u and I together”
His friends were in hysterics as he rejoined, hands in the air like a returning champion.
“Don’t worry Matty, I think the woman in the corner has got her eye on you” laughed Steve the running back. Matt turned towards the direction Steve had been pointing but couldn’t see anything.
“Oh, she’s gone” Steve said disappointed.
“She was hot and I’m guessing a little kinky” he continued as he scanned the bar.
“What makes you say that?” Matt asked smiling.
“She had purple hair”

Sunday morning came and the mood of the group had changed dramatically. They were only two wins away from promotion to the top division of the local American Football league. It wasn’t too popular with some people, because the local council used a football field, and turned it in to a pitch for them to play on.
Matt still loved his proper football, he had a season ticket for Blackburn Rovers, but he loved the rush and raw energy of being on the field.
He had a strong physique and a good eye so happily played in the central role of quarterback.
This morning he had an extra fan on the sidelines. Hidden under a hoody was the same woman from the bar on Friday night.
Just over an hour and a half later Matt was hoisted from the field as a hero. He had thrown a forty yard touchdown pass in the last minute to win the game.
He basked in the glory of the win for the rest of the afternoon. It was only spoiled when he received a call from his editor later that evening, to ask him to come in early the morning. He knew it wasn’t going to be a good meeting and really didn’t want to go in but he didn’t have the balls to quit.

*

Back in Norwich Paul didn’t know whether he was coming or going and it never crossed his mind that other people were living normal lives and worrying about their own every day problems.

Three days had passed and Paul had spent them in the hospital under going tests. He had C.A.T scans, x-rays, electrolysis, every test you could possibly think of.
After three days of intensive study and interviews from the police the doctor released him with nothing more than an antiseptic cream for the graze from the shotgun round that had scratched his face and the all-clear from the police promising no further action.

Paul went back to work exactly seven months to the day that Becki had died. His friends and work colleagues were friendly enough, possibly a little too friendly. Their constant mothering over him was too much to handle so he decided enough was enough. He booked a holiday to the Bahamas, on a small island than was sparsely populated. He needed some space and time away from his friends, away from his family and away from the constant bombardment of memories.
He had been on medication since he had left the hospital and for a while it seemed to be working quite well. He felt different, he felt vaguely human for the first time in months. But the first morning back to work after his holiday he knew things weren’t over.
Nothing was going to go his way, he was destined for misery. Things got progressively worse as the day wore on, culminating in his car breaking down on the way home from work. He left work trying to keep calm he had not had an episode or any supernatural experiences in such a long time. His work in the sales call centre got so repetitive so even on a good day he come out of work not feeling his best.

That night as he headed for the car that he had borrowed from his cousin he felt the eyes on him again. This time he wasn’t at all surprised, it had been such a crappy day that he almost expected it. His heart began to race as he shut and locked the driver’s side door. Turning the key in the engine it didn’t instantly ignite. The engine turned over a couple of times gurgled and spluttered to life. So fifteen minutes later when it finally packed up it came as no surprise. He had taken a detour down a small country lane in order to get home a little quicker. Half way down the deserted lane completely out of sight of the main road the car finally coughed out its last chug. They say silence is golden, this wasn’t.

He peered out of the window into the gloom. A wood lined the left hand side of the road and an empty fog ridden field expanded out to the right. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, after the last few months of his life he wasn’t going to do the stereotypical man thing and spend the next twenty minutes staring at the dead engine pretending that he knew what he was doing. Nothing weird had happened recently but he thought if something was going to happen this was a perfect time. He picked up his mobile and began to dial. He was about to punch in the last digit of his cousin’s number when out of the darkness came a scream of pure terror. The thing that scared him wasn’t the scream; it was the fact that he could feel the old shamed excitement that he dreaded. The idea that someone else was in pain and was suffering caused him a perverse pleasure. He had to see, he had to know what was happening.

Paul headed in the direction he thought the scream had come from. It seemed to have emanated from just behind the hedge row somewhere in the woodland. He scrambled through an extremely thick bush with sharp thorns that tore at his shirt and skin. When he finally got through into the trees he had three scratches across the top of his left eye. They were the sort of scratches that although very shallow bled like hell. Wiping a dirty tattered sleeve across his brow he ventured further into the darkness.
After five minutes of aimless wandering he heard another scream. This one was higher and louder than the first but at the same time sounded slightly muffled. Picking up his pace he again felt a pang of excitement that was instantly followed by a heavy feeling of shame. He could now hear scuffling about fifteen feet ahead of him. Slowing so he made hardly a sound he suddenly heard Becki’s voice in his head,
“What are you doing? You are better than this don’t let it control you.” the voice was sharp but loving at the same time.
It was too late though; he was so wrapped up in his own excited little world that he ignored the advice and temporarily ejected her from his mind.
The noises were getting louder now; he could just make out a small clearing in the gloom. Stooping down low he could see a figure desperately crawling across the floor. He then noticed the second figure coming into view. This one was standing up looking down at what was clearly his victim. Paul began to loose sight of the pair and found himself wishing for better light. As if by his command a brilliant moon beam struck the clearing lighting the pair up like a spot light. He could now see both of them clearly. The figure on the floor was a young girl, Paul guessed about his age. She would be very attractive if it wasn’t for the cut above her eye and the fat lip. What was left of her clothes, were frantically trying to cover her body. She had on a red shirt that had been torn open and Paul noticed the remnants of a bra crumpled not far from where she now lay. Her breasts were fully exposed to the night air along with most of her lower body because the skirt she was wearing was torn up the side revealing a very shapely thigh.

Paul wasn’t sexually aroused by the sight before him, he was morbidly fascinated by the violent dance his two performers were putting on just for him. The girl’s attacker was taller and bigger than him with a knitted jumper, khaki trousers and what appeared to be sandals with white socks. The rapist was now with in a few feet of his victim ready to play out the final act. Paul still stood motionless, just like with Becki’s death his feet were firmly planted but his mind was screaming at him to move, to help the girl.

Nothing happened, still he stayed hidden. The attacker bent over the girl, ready to finish and, Paul suspected, kill her. His face was inches from hers, his breath misting up as it hit her face. She let out a final scream and before she had finished Paul received a crack across the back of the head. He was momentarily stunned, he couldn’t see anything. When he regained his full vision he looked back up at the scene in front of him and got trapped by the desperate gaze of the girl. She looked directly at him, only this time it wasn’t the face of a stranger that lay being attacked, it was Becki.
“Help me” she mouthed at him, and before Paul had time to think or even wonder why Becki would be there he exploded from the bush and leapt at the attacker knocking him down before he even realised Paul was on him.
Paul was the first to his feet; the man lay on the floor still trying to figure out what had happened to him. Then he got up and Paul saw intense fire in this man’s eyes. They stared at each other with such intensity that it almost seemed as if they could defeat the other with the power of their gaze.
He had never been in a fight before so he had no experiences to call upon. He was working off adrenaline and nothing else, and before Paul could react fully the rapist ran at Paul brandishing a knife.
“Where the hell did that come from?” he thought with panic, only just managing to avoid the first lunge.
Again and again the knife came menacingly close to his body, the blade glinting in the moonlight. The two men stood still, staring at each other, trying to figure out what the other was thinking. It came to Paul in a moment of pure clarity; all time stopped and he knew what the rapist was going to do. The man ran again, this time he swung a clenched fist in the direction of Paul’s head at the same time thrusting the hand with the knife towards his stomach. By some miracle or stroke of dumb luck Paul blocked the hand clutching the knife, ducked the fist and at the same time managed to sweep away the attacker’s legs knocking him to the ground. He didn’t move, the rapist lay still on the floor hardly breathing. Paul turned towards the frightened girl to see if she was concious. He saw with a slight panic that she was. Her eyes full of terror looked straight past him to the man regaining his feet behind him.
Paul didn’t even have time to turn and face him. The rapist jumped at his back and they fell. As they collided hard with the woodland floor, the knife cut into Paul’s lower arm sending a cold shiver of pain right through his body. The feel of the blade slicing through his flesh caused him to lash out sending the knife careering into the darkness.
The weight of the man on his back was unbearable; Paul was completely pinned to the floor unable to move even his fingers. The warm moisture of breath on the back of his neck was making him feel sick. Paul then got the distinct feeling that this thing was not human. The sound of its breath, the way its body lurched and shuddered on top of him scarred him more than the knife had. A face then came down to the side of his own face and a low deep voice whispered in his ear,
“I have her every day, your girl is so soft and sweet tasting. I love to run my tongue all across Becki’s body.”
That was it, the same hidden strength that had made him explode from the bushes to confront the rapist now coursed through his body and once again he could hear Becki’s voice saying “Help me” only this time she said it in a proud voice. Paul thrust his entire body up as hard as he could, and to his surprise the rapist almost catapulted off of him. He used the momentum of getting off the floor to carry his body up and round. Turning towards the stunned rapist he clenched his fist and swung as hard as he could. It collided with a long pointed nose and crushed it, at the point of impact Paul felt the crumbling nasal bone beneath his fist but also the distinct crack of his own bones.
The force of the punch sent the rapist sprawling backwards. Staggering, he tripped fell to the floor and would never move of his own free will again. The knife that had been knocked away during the fight was laying blade up, its handle caught in a tree root. On closer inspection you could see that the knife had cut his neck presumably severing his spinal cord. Paul didn’t want to go any closer, the top half of its body was hidden in shadow but he could clearly see the now familiar sight of blood creeping out of the darkness. He took a few steps closer, he had to see, he didn’t want to see but he couldn’t help himself. There was still a vast amount of blood leaking from the wound in its neck and the body itself twitching in the shadows.
Paul turned away from the body in revulsion certain he was going to throw up. He stepped towards a nearby tree and prepared for the warm bitter taste as he emptied his stomach. Nothing came, he stood for a few seconds. The only sounds were the beat of his heart and the whimpering of the girl. Steadying himself he began to turn back towards the girl but something caught his eye. It was a small silver disk with some sort of emblem on it. He didn’t look at it in great detail but instinctively bent to pick it up. The second his fingers touched the cold surface his stomach settled down and he felt slightly better. He looked back at the dead body, it was now as it should have been the pale flesh of the rapist glistened in the moonlight. A bulbous mesh of blood and bone sitting pertly on his face. Paul was just regaining full control of his body when a shadow streaked across the floor under his feet and disappeared into the darkness behind him. After ten seconds there was no noise so he dismissed it as his imagination playing tricks on him.
His mind still flittering on the amulet and the corpse, he turned towards the girl. She wasn’t there, there were just scuffmarks in the dirt where she had been laying. Paul thought she had run off, so he turned towards his car and the phone he needed to call the ambulance.
The girl stood in front of him, her clothes still torn and barely clinging to her body. She hadn’t bothered trying to cover herself up, her breasts still taking in the night air, and her skirt ripped all the way up to her thigh. Paul noticed that she was still wearing her pink panties and he felt relieved that the attacker hadn’t managed to finish what he started.
The girl stood staring at him, her eyes devoid of all emotion, Paul thought she was in shock. After a few seconds she closed her eyes collapsed towards him and they both hit the floor.
She landed in the dirt next to him, her head collided with the woodland floor, hard. She didn’t pass out as he expected she just gingerly held her head, looked at him and said
“You saved me” in a timid voice.
The young semi-naked girl began to shiver and cry. Paul believed that she was soon going to go into shock, he had to get her something to wear and keep her warm.
“My car is just through those bushes” he said pointing back at the road.
“I have a warm coat and a phone?” he said asking a question.
She contemplated this offer for a moment. Paul half expected her not to trust him, he couldn’t blame her. But to his surprise she reached out her hand, Paul took it helping her up. She said coyly,
“Do you come here often?” Paul couldn’t help but smile.
“First time” he said and with that he suddenly remembered she was naked and got embarrassed.

She was too tired to care that this strange man was seeing her naked body, she wanted to…, well she didn’t know what she wanted. Her mind wasn’t working, and all she could think of was getting as far away from that clearing as possible.
“The walk seems to be taking forever” he thought as he held back a branch for her to get through to the road. The girl stood on the edge where the grass met the tarmac. Paul didn’t think he should say anything to her, he wanted to cover her up as soon as possible and get her to a hospital.

The ambulance arrived within ten minutes, but to Paul and his new friend it seemed like hours.
Two ambulances turned up, one pair of paramedics raced towards the battered girl perched gently on the bonnet of Paul’s car wrapped tightly in his winter coat. The other pair ran full pelt towards him. At first he was a little shocked, but when he realised that they were coming to help him all the adrenaline that was holding him together drained from his body. He was now painfully aware of his broken hand and the fact his arm was still bleeding.
After an hour in the ambulance the police came to speak to him. They had already been talking to the girl and she had recounted the incident in surprisingly intricate detail. The two Policemen sat in the back of the ambulance with him looked more proud than intimidating. One of then was a young uniformed PC, the other an overweight middle aged man with thinning hair and a cheap brown suit who introduced himself as “Detective Sergeant Warren”.
The two men went on to tell Paul that they wouldn’t be prosecuting him, the man he had inadvertently killed was a known felon and wanted for questioning in three similar attacks. Apparently the girl had been quick to praise his courage and at one point described him as “her hero”. Although Paul barely took any of this in he was now struggling to stay awake. The two police left the ambulance, but just before the door was closed the younger policeman turned to him and said,
“You are a hero, not many people would have done that. If it wasn’t for you that girl would be dead” and with that he lifted his helmet in a curt nod, the door closed and he was gone.

Paul spent another three days in hospital, receiving another three visits from the police. “Just a formality” they assured him every time they came. The day he was released from hospital, his friend from work was waiting at the entrance to give him a lift home. Lucy looked at him with sympathetic eyes,
“I’m beginning to think some one up there doesn’t like you” she said with a sad forced smile
“You have no idea” he muttered under his breath.
Paul wasn’t very talkative on the way home, he found comfort in emptying his mind and not thinking of anything. This time however, one thought hit him like a bullet,
He thought with a sudden realisation that he didn’t even know the girl’s name. For some unknown reason he began to cry.

The next morning the sun woke him, not in a gentle poetic way, the light shone through the window hurting his eyes forcing him to wake up.
“I don’t want to wake” he thought, never again to have to think about anything that would hurt him. An hour later, after he finally admitted defeat he went downstairs. A solitary letter sat on his doormat, little did he know as he descended the stairs that it meant his troubles had only just begun.



Chapter 5

The letter was typed on cheap paper and would have looked as though it mass produced if it hadn’t been for the four handwritten signatures on the bottom.
The letter read,

Dear Mr Vaughn,
I have the distinct pleasure of inviting you to a civic reception to be held in the town hall. Your selfless act of bravery has not gone unrecognised. The reception will be held on the 25th of this month with a select number of guests, four of whom have signed below. These are the signatures of the four women you helped.
A car will come to pick you up at 7pm on the night in question.
I look forward to meeting you.

Yours sincerely,
John Wilbur
(Under Secretary to the Mayor)

Paul looked at the four signatures and wondered which of them was the girl that he had met. The signatures read, J. Evans, P. Antrust, Sophie Callum and L. Brown. He really didn’t think that the fact he had killed someone was something to be celebrated plus the fact he didn’t want to be with people at the moment, he hated the thought of going but guessed it was something he would have to suffer.
The six days that passed between receiving the letter and the night of the reception came and went without any incident. Paul spent them sitting watching TV and in his garden reading a book he had found in one of his bedroom draws. It still had a bookmark in it from when Becki had tried to read it. He didn’t really take in any of the story but it still had a faint smell of one of Becki’s many perfumes, he felt slightly better when he held it so he just kept it with him.
There was one thing that Paul could not evict from his mind. From the day he received the letter to the night of the reception he had the same dream over and over. Paul always had a vivid imagination, his dreams were as clear and real as a movie. Every night in a church, every night the same things happened.
At six o’clock on the night of the reception he finally gave in and started to get ready.
Not realising the time he was surprised when an hour later there was a knock on the door. Paul looked at the clock, the display read exactly 7:00pm. Turning towards the bedroom door he put his hand on the light switch, getting ready to turn it off he saw the silver amulet sitting on the bed side table, without giving it a second thought he picked it up and put it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
The thirty minute car journey was uncomfortable in so many ways. Paul was sure the limo driver had been a cabbie in a previous job because the bloke just wouldn’t shut up. Also the seat he was on was like sitting on a concrete bench.

They pulled up outside the town hall to a small reception of people. There were two men and a woman wearing a mobile headset. After the formality of introductions they headed inside to the room where the reception was being held. The room was not much longer than a bus and no wider than a tennis court. He met more people who he would happily forget with in five minutes of leaving their company. Every time he tried to move on he had to stop again and pose for more photos with another group of complete strangers.
“It’s going to be a long night” he thought with a sigh as he posed for yet another photo with another person he didn’t know.


Chapter six

Three days before the reception up in Scarborough, Matthew Preston sat in his editor’s office supposedly waiting for a real assignment.
Matt worked for the only local paper in the world that was pure tabloid trash. If it was dirty, sexual, violent or scandalous his paper would report on it. The specialty was to take an innocent person and assassinate their character turning them into a public figure of hate.
Matt’s editor walked in the room smoking a cigar that looked like an empty toilet roll
“Makes sense” he thought to himself with a wry smile.
The editor sat in front of him and said in a professional yet sleazy tone,
“How do you like Norwich?”
“Uh, fine I suppose” he replied slightly bemused
“Great because they have got a guy who saved a young girl from a rapist and possibly death, and I want you to do a story on him” he said whilst he did four other things.
Matt’s hopes raised a little,
“Sounds good” he said trying to hold back his enthusiasm.
“This guy fought and accidentally killed the rapist, and apparently this attacker had already hit three women in the previous month” he said, now reading a file.
The editor stood up and threw the file at Matt. Picking it up he scanned through while his editor continued.
“Everyone is calling this bloke a hero but I want a different angle” he said now smiling.
Matt’s expectations dropped like a lead weight, and he knew what was going to happen.
“I want to explore this guy a bit, see if we can dig up any skeletons, you know expose him as a fake” he said oblivious to Matt’s expression.
“What if there is no sordid story here, what if he is the genuine article?” Matt said in a contemptuous tone.
“There is always a sordid history, no one is real in this world” he said bleakly “your train leaves in four hours, I thought you could go down a couple of days early take in the sights of the city” he continued without pausing for breath.
Matt walked from the office thunderstruck, he felt dirty, as though he was some monster feeding off others lives. This was the last time. He would go and do the story but he would do it his way. When he laid it on the editor’s desk it would be accompanied by his letter of resignation.
The next couple of days were pleasant enough, but slightly marred by the rain and the fact that Matt had a stinking headache.
When the night of the reception came Matt was less keen then Paul to go to a stuffy boring reception that would undoubtedly be ten minutes of congratulations for this man he was due to rip apart and a good four or five hours of local councillors patting each other on the back.

The night had been so dull and the incessant pounding of his headache had put Matt into a bad mood. Between trips to the bar, he kept his eye on Paul all evening. He thought that the man everyone was supposed to be there to congratulate looked tired and old. Their eyes met and the hero of the hour looked as though he had seen a ghost. What little colour there was in his face faded to a sickly grey. Matt was sure that Paul was only twenty six but this man looked middle aged, “What on earth had happened to him to make him look like that?” he wondered to himself.


Chapter 7

As soon as Paul entered the reception room he felt lonelier than he had ever felt before. A room full of people and he still felt a million miles away from humanity. Then he saw her, the girl he had rescued if that was the right word. He caught her attention and she smiled. The change was instant, the terrified girl he had seen that night was now a radiant beautiful woman. Maybe it was because of what he knew, or what he had been through himself but underneath the radiant façade he could see a scar that nothing will ever be able to heal. She came towards him still smiling, he watched her approach and he felt something that he never thought he would experience again. He felt close to this girl, he felt connected, could there also be an attraction? When she hugged him he realised that he was attracted to her and the idea of that tore out what little remained of his heart.
She stepped back shaking, it seemed as though she wanted to be held but didn’t trust anyone enough to touch or comfort her. She started to talk to him, well more at him, as Paul didn’t hear a word she said. He was in emotional turmoil; the love and longing he still felt for Becki was battling against his longing for something or someone else to fill the void in his soul that was left after her death.
Paul watched her with tear stained eyes, all he could see was a vision of Becki in a wedding dress. The image of what he thought Becki would look like on their wedding day was something he had gone to bed thinking of virtually every night since she had died. He hoped it would induce dreams of her, recently it had begun to work, but not in the way he wanted.
The dream always started the same way, he was standing at the altar of a church in his full top and tails. The church was empty apart from a vicar, himself and of course Becki. There was also one other person that was always there. From where this unseen figure was standing Paul assumed he was his best man, but during the dream all his focus was on Becki so he never saw his face. The dream was Becki gliding down the aisle. She would always get half way up the then stop. At this point she would look at him and say,
“Help me!” this now had even more impact after the night he saved the girl.
In the dream, after she called for his help there would always be the screech of tyres and the yellow car would float over the top of the pews past his line of sight, temporarily blocking his view of Becki. When she was visible again he could see her in exactly the same position she had been in when she died. He would desperately try to run to her but the vicar would always hold him back stopping him from getting to her. This was exactly how the dream played out every night until the night before the reception. The dream was exactly as it had always been right up until the car passed across the front of Becki. She was still dead when she came back into view and the vicar still grabbed hold of him but this time his unseen best man stepped forward from the shadows and, with a heavy blow, floored the vicar. His grasp on his arms loosened and he felt himself moving forward to where Becki lay. When he reached her she was still alive, turning her broken neck towards him she said, in a low whisper “If you fight he will help you” she said lifting a broken arm and pointing towards his best man. Paul turned and for the first time saw the face of the man who has been with him for the last few nights.

Paul hadn’t heard a single word the girl had said to him, and she knew it. Looking at him she said
“I heard about your girlfriend and I’m sorry”
He now looked directly at her and was filled with such a strong sense of longing that he almost kissed her. Then something occurred to him
“I need to ask you an important question” he said with strong conviction.
She looked at him a little nervously
“Ok” she said
“What’s your name?” he said with dead sincerity.
She looked greatly relieved and smiled.
“I’m Sophie” she said extending her hand.
Paul smiled back at her
“I’m Paul” he said, now feeling slightly more alert.
“I’m pleased to meet” he stopped mid-sentence, a man had just entered the room. Looking closer Paul could see that he was wearing a press pass and for that second he thought he was asleep because standing twenty feet from him, was his mystery Best Man from his dream.
Paul lost all reason, he felt as though his legs were turning to jelly. He fell forwards, the lights around him darkening. He collided with Sophie, not noticing the ground rapidly approaching his face.
A small group of people gathered around him to help him back to his feet, he reached up to take someone’s hand and found himself face to face with Matthew Preston. He recoiled, thinking that this was some supernatural thing here to tip him over the edge. How could this man be in his dream, something wasn’t right? He turned and left the room, Sophie ran after him obviously concerned, but he shrugged her off. Then as she began to walk back dejected for some reason he turned and said
“I’m sorry, I just need to be alone, I’ll speak to you later” he wasn’t sure if he managed it but he tried to smile.

His mind was racing. He felt scared and confused. But most of all he was tired, every fibre in his body was yearning to sleep. Paul kept walking in an unknown direction, his mind racing through an infinite number of problems. He brought his hands up to his face to cover his eyes and found that he had the silver amulet in his hand. He stopped and looked at it, when did he take it out of his pocket?


Chapter 8

“What the hell was that?” Matt thought as he headed for the bar.
“The guy looked at me like I was going to kill him” he said out loud to himself.
“That guy is a little strange,” he said to the barman. The barman just shrugged and pulled the pint of bitter Matt had ordered.
The rest of the evening went with out incident up until the point of the presentation. The four victims of the rapist were on stage preparing to give a specially commissioned medal to Paul Vaughn “troubled hero” Matt thought to himself as he dabbled with potential headlines for his story. The four women and the Mayor of Norwich stood on the small stage looking sheepishly around not knowing what to do. Paul was a no show and after five minutes people were sent to look for him.
After thirty minutes of a fruitless search every one gave up and headed back in to the reception hall.


Chapter 9

On the other side of the building, a series of small damp tunnels linked the basement of the town hall to various points around the city. One of these tunnels came out under the “Norwich public library” Paul read on a sign as he stepped over the threshold.
He was in no mood for parties or congratulations from people he had never met or going to see again.
It wasn’t really a conscious decision to head to the library, it seemed as though his brain had relinquished control to his feet. The only decision he had made was to leave the reception hall, next thing he knew he was entering the library.
The silver amulet he had picked up was bothering him. It had been nagging at his subconscious ever since he found the thing.
So with the opportunity at hand he decided it was time to do something about it.
The amulet had a weird symbol etched into its surface. To him it looked like the Star of David but someone had scratched other images over the top which he couldn’t make out.
As he stood staring at the glistening surface, things finally clicked into place. He remembered why this had been bothering him. The attacker had mentioned things about him; he had known Becki’s name. The night it all happened he remembered briefly considering the idea that it was all a setup deliberately luring him to that spot. But a combination of exhaustion and the fuss that followed had pushed it from his mind. But now as he stood in the musty stacks of books he was positive. At that point nothing in the world Mattered except finding out about the amulet in his hand. With renewed energy he headed for the religious texts. That was where Matt eventually found him.


Chapter 10

The search for Paul was called off after an hour. The officials were anxious to continue the night without anymore interruptions coupled with the fact that no one was particularly concerned they continued the party.
The only person in the room interested in where Paul may be was Matt. He was deeply worried about Paul’s mental state when he left the room, worried about what he may do.
Gulping down his final drink for the evening he decided he himself would go and find him.
Leaving the room he casually noticed the other guests, wondering how many of them hated their jobs and wished physical harm on their bosses.
The door to the reception hall closed behind him shutting out the mindless gossip and hollow pleasantries and with a sigh of relief he decided he would go left.
Matt followed a series of corridors, all identical in smell length and colour. After turning into the eleventh identical one he decided they must in fact be the same one s and he is just going around in a circle.
After another five minutes of wandering he came to a t-junction, without thinking he turned to head right, but then something pulled at his mind and he felt the sudden urge to go left.
The décor of the building finally changed. It went from standard government issue to old and damp concrete. A couple of minutes later he too came across the sign for the public library. Not stopping to read it he head straight in. “This is a library” he thought in wonder. He was standing in the foyer of a large glass fronted building with a roof to match. He caught glimpse of a sign which read “Welcome to the Forum” and with a wry smile he said at a whisper “I bet Caesar never had anything as spectacular as this.”
Still attempting to take in the grandeur of something that should be so insignificant, he noticed a faint light coming from the second floor.


Chapter 11

As Paul obliviously rifles through old books, looking for the answers to the un-asked questions racing through his head, an old man sits on his porch looking out across the fields.
He is alone; there is no one in his house and no other houses for miles around. His house looks like something you would find in the Waltons. It is a wooden structure with shutters on the windows, and the front porch that runs along the bottom of the house. The old man is wearing nothing but a pair of sun glasses and a watch. His dark wrinkled skin glistens with the sweat that is slowly creeping down his torso towards hot metal frame of his cheap picnic chair. Next to him is a small table with a glass of iced tea, a copy of the Cape Times and an old fashioned phone.
The silence was deafening and he hated being out here, but it was necessary, he was too well known, he couldn’t show his face in urban areas, not now, not when they were so close to finding them.
The ringing of the phone shattered the hot and sticky air, but he was greatly relieved for the call.
“Yes” he said in an authoritative tone
“He’s beginning to suspect, he knows too much” came the reply.
“I see, have all the other measures been tried?”
“Yes” was the only response.
“Ok, we have no choice, instruct the team to go in we need to get rid of him before they find him” he said with no emotion.
With that there was a click as the person on the other end of the line hung up.
Sitting back down, he couldn’t help but smile.


Chapter 12

Paul was so engrossed in the books he didn’t realise Matt was standing watching him.
“Uh hm” Matt let out a small polite cough to announce his presence. Paul briefly looked up realising who it was he ignored him and continued to work.
“Anything interesting?” Matt said in what he hoped was a light tone.
Suspiciously, Paul looked up again, “I really don’t want to do any interviews” he said absently.
“That’s fine, it’s not why I’m here” he said with a smile “You’ve had most of the guests at the party looking for you” Matt continued.
“Ah well at least it livened up the party” Paul said not caring.
It was that sentence that finally broke the ice. Matt attempted to stifle a laugh but failed. The line wasn’t even very funny but he couldn’t help it. His laugh echoed round the vast emptiness of the library, returning to them from every direction. Paul was smiling now, and Matt saw his chance. Stepping forward with his arm out, he said “Hi I’m Matt Preston” thankfully, Paul took his hand in a firm shake and said “Nice to meet you, I’m Paul Vaughn.”
Matt decided to be honest up front, so he immediately told his story, why he was there, what he was supposed to do and what he actually planned to do.
When he finished his tale he looked for a reaction from Paul. For a few seconds his face was expressionless then surprisingly he smiled.
“If you are going to write a story, and you say it’s going to be truthful what will you need?”
Not expecting this response he was caught off guard. “Err, I guess I’ll need to spend time with you, get to know you, that sort of thing”
“Ok, that seems fair” Paul said not quite believing what he was saying. It was less than an hour earlier he had actually fainted at the sight of this man. But he was strangely curious, there was something about this man that made Paul trust him.
“When do you want to start?” Matt asked
“Well actually, are you enjoying the party?” Paul inquired tentatively.
Matt raised his eyebrows “I’m sorry but no” he said slightly embarrassed.
Paul laughed “Good, would you mind helping me then?”
Matt shrugged and said he would be glad to.
It was then Paul’s turn to tell his tale, the night of the attack and the amulet he found. He wasn’t planning on telling Matt why he was looking for the information, but the words from his dream floated into his thoughts “If you fight he will help you”.
“I’m going to tell you something that I don’t want in the story, I don’t know why but I feel like I can trust you” he said watching Matt’s eyes widen
with anticipation and a slight disappointment, he nodded.

They worked through the night not finding anything. When the staff began to arrive the next morning they carefully and quietly piled up the books and snuck out. As they left they decided they would meet up again that lunchtime so Matt could officially interview him.
Matt’s mind was all over the place as he followed the directions that Paul had given him to his hotel. What Paul had said about the fact he thinks his girlfriend’s death was deliberate and those girls were attacked because of him was crazy. If it were true it would be huge. This story could be his ticket to the national papers. There was something about Paul that made Matt like him; he had a kind of weary soldier attitude. It was like he was on the verge of giving up but keeps on fighting out of pride or duty.
Matt had every intention of sleeping when he got back to his hotel room but as he lay back on his bed his eye caught sight of the obligatory copy of the New Testament found in every hotel room across the Western World. On it he saw the Christian cross and he began to wonder. When Paul showed him the amulet he pointed out the Star of David but at the time neither of them could make out anything else. But there was something about that symbol that Matt couldn’t quite grasp. As he lay on the bed, he desperately tried to rack his brains for that illusive scrap of information hidden way down deep in the back of his brain. Nothing came and after a while his head began to hurt again.
Sitting up he flicked on the television, absently he flicked across the channels not really looking for anything when something clicked. His channel surf stopped on a documentary channel. His finger hovered over the next number on the remote ready for its next try when he saw that a programme about the second world war was about to start. Matt sat and watched for a couple of minutes knowing he was missing something but not knowing what.
Matt leaned off his bed and reached for his laptop. Turning it on, he connected to the internet looking up the swastika. He was vaguely remembering something from high school days. Something about the origin of the swastika, but he just couldn’t reach it. After a minute on the net he found it.
“The swastika is a holy symbol in Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism” said his screen.
“It’s a combination of the three religions” he said out loud.
With a renewed interest he began to search for religious symbols. After another fifteen minutes of fruitless searching he finally had that eureka moment. There it was the exact same symbol as the one on Paul’s amulet. The symbol belongs to the Cult of the Chinju, an ancient order that died out in the ninth century.
Matt was almost salivating at the possibilities now. This story could be huge. Forget the papers, with something like this he could sell it to Hollywood. There wasn’t any more information on the cult but he did find the name of two professors that had done intensive studies into the fact and fiction of the cult. Amazingly enough they were both English. One lived in Switzerland and one lived in Cardiff. Matt sat on the edge of his bed mulling over options and possibilities. Making a decision he got up, showered changed and headed out. He had other things to do before he met Paul.

Paul’s disappointment in not finding anything was overwhelming. What he had felt the previous night was wearing off. For a short period he had felt almost normal, he had really enjoyed sitting with Matt, having a purpose. But the fact he had not found anything was painful.
He was still feeling bad when he arrived for his meeting with Matt. He was so immersed in his own bad mood he didn’t notice that Matt was practically giddy.
Paul sat down, exhausted in his chair, not even saying hello. It wasn’t until the waiter came that he looked at Matt's expression. The man looked as though he was going to explode. Paul's mood instantly lifted,
“You’ve found something haven’t you?” he said excitedly.
Unable to contain himself any longer Matt told Paul everything he had discovered. Matt's excitement meant it didn’t take very long to tell. He could see Paul becoming more and more excited; he seemed to be slipping closer to the edge of his seat. Matt then abruptly stopped mid-sentence.
“Last night you told me something personal so I feel I should be honest as well” he said in a serious tone.
The first thought that crossed Paul's mind was that he had told his editor and the story would be published.
“For some weird reason I feel compelled to find out about this symbol, not for a story but for personal reasons” Matt said hesitantly.
He then told Paul about his idea about using his paper’s expense account to head to Cardiff and talk to the Professor there. He had known this man less than twenty four hours and felt that he may be over stepping the mark.
“When do you want to go?” Paul said with a relieved smile.


Chapter 13

As the two men arranged their travel plans for the trip to Cardiff, another man was hastily sorting his. Professor Jonathan Whyte was racing around his small flat based in the centre of the Swiss capital. He had just received a phone call that made him fear for his life. His mind clouded by terror, he sprinted from room to room collecting the few items that he new he couldn’t leave.
“I guess this means Lizzie was right after all” he thought as he continued to pack. He had first received the death threats six months ago. They were vague at first; not making any reference to his work. The caller would just call say five words and hang up. “You are going to die” the same words every time. The first couple of times he dismissed it as kids playing pranks, but then things changed. The caller then began to threaten his daughter, that made the professor pay attention. This went on for a month then the letters began to arrive; that’s when things got serious. The letters not only wanted him to stop his research into the Chinju but they wanted him to leave Switzerland entirely. He took the first two letters to the central police station in Berne hoping that would calm his nerves. It didn’t however, it only made things worse. Apparently his would be assassin was watching every move he made. It got to the point so that he didn’t want to leave his flat. Every time he looked outside he could see a car sitting watching him.
The cause for his current panic was one of his colleagues at the university where he was doing his research. Before he began to receive the death threats Professor Whyte had planned to publish his work in a book. In fact he already had a publishers company ready to take the finished article. Once the threats arrived he systematically set about destroying all his research and notes just as he was ordered. However in all of his panic he forgot to destroy the actual book he had written. So, when the publishers came for the finished article his colleague, thinking he was being helpful, dutifully printed out and handed over his work.

Professor Whyte had received the call twenty minutes ago and was now certain that he had to leave the country. He had everything he needed and was about to leave when he remembered his favourite photo of his daughter. Thankfully Lizzie was back in England and unaware of all of this, if she knew, she would kill him before the others got the chance. Just as he grabbed the frame containing the picture from his bed side table, he heard a crash from the front room.
The front door had been obliterated and he could now hear at least three voices all shouting in a language he didn’t understand.
Terrified, he was rooted to the spot not having the faintest idea what to do. The three men were obviously searching every room, turning over the furniture making as much mess as possible. He had to think fast, what could he do?
His next action was done on auto pilot he had no clear plan but some how knew what he wanted. Dropping his bag where he stood he headed for the wardrobe, just managing to shut the louvre doors before two of the three men came in. Their faces were covered with blue masks, each bearing the mark of the Chinju on the forehead. They were dressed as priests. He couldn’t believe it, the men were wearing black shirts with a dog collar. It almost seemed comical and probably would have been in another situation.
While he was watching the two men his right hand had been searching amongst the clothes at the back of the wardrobe for some sort of weapon. His hand came across the smooth surface of his golf clubs. Gently lifting one out, he looked at it in the gloom.
“A four iron? Maybe the driver would be better” he thought. But then the adrenaline hit the confrontational area of his brain and common sense kicked in.
“You aren’t looking to get distance with the bloody thing, it’s for protection” he screamed at himself with in his head.
By the time he had resolved his internal argument the two hooded priests had finished tearing apart the room and had now both rounded on the wardrobe.
“The only chance I’ve got is to attack, run and hope for the best” thought the Professor as he steadied himself. He waited until they were about to open the door then with all the force and fury he could muster he kicked hard at it with the sole of his foot.
It worked surprisingly well; both priests were caught off guard and fell to the floor.
Ignoring his belongings he used that second to spring from his hiding place and rushed to the exit.
His adrenaline was really pumping hard, so hard in fact he thought he may actually turn into the incredible hulk. His small victory had increased his confidence meaning that he felt very little fear as he ran into the third priest. This time things didn’t go as well. It seems the priest was waiting for him, as the professor ran he extended what felt like a metal pole as it crashed hard into the professor’s chest. Getting back to his feet he realised it wasn’t metal it was the priests arm. This one was huge, “he may in fact be the incredible hulk” he thought as he dodged the second blow. The professor managed to regain his footing and in an instant he realised he was still holding the golf club. Not thinking, hesitating or caring about the result he shut his eyes and swung as hard as he could. The journey of the club head seemed to take forever, everything seemed to slow down. The pressure he felt in the handle as the club connected, then the surface of the skin giving way allowing the metal of the club to continue its journey. The professor could actually feel the soft spongy substance that the club was burying into. He opened his eyes. With horror and disgust he saw what he had done, he took both hands off the handle rapidly bringing them to his mouth as he felt the vomit rise in his throat. The priest crumpled to the floor, the club lodged in his temple. Even though it felt like an eternity the entire scene took less than twenty seconds, so before the professor had time to recover he could hear the other priests getting back to their feet.
Shocked and ashamed at what he had done he fled.
The doors of his apartment block burst open as he exploded on to the street. His heart pounding hard in his throat he turned and ran. He was only yards from the house when he heard an engine start. He instinctively knew that didn’t mean good news so he ran harder and faster than his body should have gone.
Dodgy between pedestrians he ran on, not having the slightest idea where he was headed. He could now see the outline of a land rover in the corner of his right eye but that was inconsequential now. For all he cared the entire world was after him. He had to get away.
He turned into an ally that cut through to the next road on which he was sure was the police station. The only thing that now stood between him and safety was a wooden fence about six feet high. He was so pumped up by now that he felt he could almost hurdle it.
Clambering to the top of the fence and falling off the other side took longer than he had expected. His adrenaline rush made him forget that he was in fact a middle aged man and not a young athlete. None the less he had gotten over and was almost sure he would be safe.
Ten feet from the end of the alley the land rover pulled across blocking the exit. Four men jumped out this time, these ones were not in priest’s outfits but they were wearing the blue masks. Two of them ran towards him each one grabbing an arm. It was as though they had the ability to drain his energy because as soon as they touched him he felt weak. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, or at least he would have if the two men weren’t holding him up.
He then made probably the first conscious decision he had made all day. If he was going to die he would die with dignity, not like a coward. SO with the last of his energy he stood up and faced his assailant head on. The two men holding him noticed this and almost out of respect they loosened their grip. The smaller man standing in front of him revealed his gun with what appeared to be a silencer. He lifted it to the professor’s chest and squeezed the trigger twice.
Twice he felt the small painful pressure of something enter his body, and as the darkness began to envelope him his final thought was “I wonder if Lizzie won her race?”


Chapter 14

The two men left Norwich at five in the morning, primarily to evade the heavy traffic. The journey started quietly, neither knowing what to say. This soon changed and after a couple of hours they were laughing and joking like they had known each other for years. The conversation flowed between the stereotypical “man topics” you would expect; cars, films, music then on to women. Paul's demeanour changed when talk turned to women. It was still an area of his life he wasn’t ready to confront. He was still feeling guilty about his feelings for the girl at the reception. Although he wanted to feel again, he didn’t like the idea of it not being with Becki. Matt saw the change in Paul’s mood and to his immense credit he swiftly changed the subject.
“Uh, so do you think Norwich will get promoted this year?” he said with a forced cheerfulness. It had the desired effect and the two men were soon laughing and arguing over different teams, results and games. The journey seemed to fly-by and by the time they pulled into a road side cafe at lunchtime they were only a few miles outside of Cardiff.
When they got to the Welsh capital they stayed just outside the city centre and had to share a room. Because of an international rugby match being played at the Millennium Stadium the one room was all that was available.
The evening passed without event. They had dinner in the restaurant attached the hotel, had a couple of drinks in the bar and went to bed.
Paul never had a problem sleeping, his energy levels had depleted drastically since the night he rescued the girl. He lay on his bed and within ten seconds he was out. Matt was a different Matter. Usually a couple of drinks would make him sufficiently dopey and look forward to a good night’s sleep. But tonight he was restless; something was nagging and clawing away at the back of his subconscious. The more he tried to reach it, the further away it seemed to get. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning he got up and found his laptop. On it he had all the information he had gathered about Paul, his life and the death of his girlfriend, as well as all the information the two of them had gathered about the mysterious and illusive Chinju cult. He read through everything he had, trying to glean any piece of information he may have missed. When Matt wanted to concentrate he had the knack of being able to shut himself off from the world around him. Sinking into his own personal world where nothing could interrupt.
As he trawled through the information, he felt himself travel deeper into his concentration zone. The dim shapes of the furniture faded away. Time didn’t Matter he was fully focused on his work.
No Matter what he looked at he found himself refocusing on one detail from Becki’s death, the yellow car. His mind wouldn’t let it go. All of a sudden Paul let out a snore so loud it could have woken the dead; or was it him? Initially Matt thought Paul was snoring, but it began to sound more like a motor. Matt turned towards the bed but instead of seeing his sleeping companion he looked out across a car park.
For some strange reason Matt knew exactly what he was witnessing. It was the accident, this was how Becki had been killed. He scanned the area and immediately caught site of Paul. Then, following Paul’s gaze, he saw Becki. “Wow!” he thought as he saw the long red hair that draped over the shoulders of a stunning women. Again Matt heard the snore/engine roar; he looked round and instantly saw the yellow car. Instinctively he ran for the spot where Becki was standing, he screamed at top of his voice even though if he would have thought rationally for a second he would have remembered that no one could hear him. He reached Becki seconds before the car but he passed right through her. Then the rational edge in his brain kicked in; he knew it was pointless. He turned to face the car and found himself staring at Becki’s killer. The killer was staring straight back at him, his eyes full of rage and menace. The second the car should have collided with him he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Paul had woken him after hearing him scream out Becki’s name. Matt looked up at Paul and with a tear in his voice said “I think you just saved my life!”
Paul looked at Matt with eyes so full of compassion and understanding that it made Matt decide not to explain his nightmare.
“I’ll go and get you a glass of water” Paul said as he headed towards the bathroom, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost” he continued as he reappeared with a full cup.
Thirty minutes later Paul was sound asleep again, but Matt knew the sandman wasn’t coming for him. The face he saw in the car was so distinctive he could still picture it when he shut his eyes. It was a prematurely old face, it looked at least seventy but Matt guessed the man couldn’t have been more than fifty. He still had a full head of light brown hair, the same shade that protruded from both nostrils. Everything about the face filled him with dread, his empty-hate-filled eyes burned into Matt's mind and would never leave him. He was definitely a man he never wanted to meet.


Chapter 15

Her fingers began to dig in to Olaf’s shoulder.
“Come on!” she yelled as they watched the monitor
Harrison and David were only thirty seconds off the lead and gaining time with every metre that passed. They would surely make up the time on the leaders and regain second spot for the next leg in Sweden. They had been back in Wales for just over two weeks and she was loving every second of being back in the UK.
Olaf and Lizzie both screamed with joy, as they watched the car race across the finish. They both looked at the time and leapt into each other arms, hugging and laughing. They had done it, they had made up the time and were now sitting just behind the leaders.
Lizzie was engulfed by the pit crew as they all congratulated each other, laughing and chattering.
The noise level exploded again ten minutes later when the car arrived back. Both the driver and navigator were drenched in champagne before they had even left the car. The bottles had arrived as if from no where. No one cared where they had come from but they certainly enjoyed them nonetheless.
The party continued long in to the night and before long Lizzie was a little too drunk for her liking so she made her excuses and headed home.
It took her quite a while to get through the crowd and out into the night air. There weren’t many women in the team so the men in their inebriated states were sad to see her go.
They had a fleet of cars and drivers outside waiting to take the revellers home. She slumped back into the back seat of the car and let out a content sigh. “No one is as lucky as me” she thought with a smile.
Next morning, she wasn’t quite so happy. She had a stonking headache and was pleased she didn’t have anything to do except recover.
Milling round the house all morning she tidied a little. As she was making lunch something occurred to her,
“Damn! I didn’t call Dad” she thought looking for the phone.

She let the phone ring longer each time she tried her father. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, “why isn’t he answering?” she thought, exasperated. He was always on the end of the phone the day after her races. She loved how excited he got even though he had no idea about cars and wasn’t really interested. Living in Switzerland for most of her life had given her a fresh perspective on life in the UK. She had been living in Cardiff three years but still loved the place. Failing to get through to her father after eight attempts she gave up.
Lizzie was one of a very small number of female mechanics currently working on the world rally series and she loved it. She was the only British female mechanic, the rest of the girls were all Scandinavian. Lovely people but she could only understand every other word.
She was two days into a week off and decided that she would take her baby out for a ride. Lizzie loved going out on a warm sunny day, giant sunglasses, head scarf, the whole Breakfast at Tiffany’s ensemble.
She stepped out of her three story Victorian terrace house, opened her garage and gazed upon her baby, her pride and joy, her midnight blue 1963 Aston Martin DB5. The fact she was the only British female mechanic on the tour had afforded her a minor celebrity status, she had done a couple of TV interviews and an advert for some kind of shampoo which she didn’t even remember the name of, let alone use. All of which had paid for her car and the down payment on her home.
It frustrated her having to drive through the city to get out onto the M4 where she could really open her up and drive.
After nearly forty minutes of bumper-to-bumper she finally got to the junction to turn off to the M4.
*

The two men left the hotel after a light breakfast; Matt was behind the wheel but probably shouldn’t have been. His mind was still in the hotel room mulling over the dream he had.
They had been driving for three minutes and Matt had not concentrated on the road for a second.
“Look at that that is a classic. Beautiful car.” Paul said nudging Matt.
With that Matt snapped back to his senses just in time. An Aston Martin was speeding towards them and they were about to collide.

Pulling off the M4 on to her favourite driving road Lizzie opened her up when the head of the gear stick fell off. It was a wonderful car but it needed a little cosmetic work. The gear stick head was only attached with Blue tack. The damn thing rolled into the foot well of the passenger seat. She tried to reach down without taking her eyes off the road but it was impossible. Less than two seconds passed before she had grabbed the head and was back in her optimum driving position but it was too late. A silver car was going to hit her and there was nothing she could do.

It came to Matt in a flash, he knew exactly what to do. There was no time to brake; doing that would kill them. He had to accelerate and hope he could steer past.
His foot hit the accelerator with as much force as he could muster, and his mind sharpened to a pin point. He saw his opening, he had to make it between the Aston and the verge without going into the ditch.
Lizzie waited until the last second, lifting both feet and stamping them down on the brake while at the same time yanking on the handbrake. She hopped it was enough. She saw the silver car accelerate forward and majestically swerve past at the last second. With the immediate danger over she pulled the car to the side of the road, seeing in her mirror that the other driver had done the same. Taking a couple of seconds to compose herself she sat breathing slowly and deeply and then got out of the car. No sooner had she stood up than her head turned to a helium balloon, her legs went to jelly and she fell.
She didn’t hit the floor though. When she opened her eyes she saw the face of a man looking down at her, a handsome face with a receding hairline and the only person she had seen besides herself with emerald green eyes.

“Are you ok miss..?” Matt said, worried.
Getting back to her feet she replied with surprisingly little energy, “I’m fine thanks.”
Now fully back on her feet she noticed another man looking round her car with envious eyes.
“This is a beautiful machine” Paul said enthusiastically.
“Er thanks” she replied, still a little shocked.
Lizzie tried to take a step forward but as her left foot hit the floor a jolt of pain screamed through her and she stumbled again.
Once again Matt caught her, this time he swept her up and carried her to her car. Looking at this strange man, Lizzie felt a twang of attraction but instantly buried it, she was focusing on her work at the moment she didn’t have time for a boyfriend.
Matt gently placed her into the passenger seat and took a look at her ankle.
“I’m no doctor but it looks broken to me” he said with what he hoped was a comforting smile. It was, and again Lizzie had to swallow back the twang of attraction.
“I think we need to take her to a hospital” Matt said looking at Paul.
“ No, I’m fine I don’t want to put you out” she said in the same strong tone she used with the lads at work. By the way Paul's face dropped he was in agreement with her.
“But Matt, this professor Shrive only has an opening this morning” he said in the manner of a spoilt child.
The two men stepped away out of ear shot and continued talking. She was determined not to affect the plans of these two men. Standing with all her weight on her right foot she attempted to take a step towards them but as soon as her left foot touched the floor the pain came back. For the third time, this stranger was there to catch her.
“How about this?” she said “My friend lives two minutes drive away, we can drop my car then I will come to your appointment then maybe you’ll take me to the hospital?” she continued authoritatively. She looked at the two men and swore she saw Matt smile. But the other man wasn’t sure. Then she did something she thought she would never do “I can’t drive so can you follow us in my car?” she said looking at Paul. Instantly his face lit up and it was all arranged.

Five minutes later the three of them were in Matt's car and heading back into Cardiff to the university. When Paul first said the name Shrive she had a twinkling of a memory. The name seemed familiar which with a stab of guilt made her think of her father.
The journey to the university took twenty minutes and no one spoke a word but the strange thing was, she had known these men less than an hour and yet she felt completely comfortable with them. That was until they pulled up to their destination and saw Matt’s reaction to the man they were about to meet.


Chapter 16

As soon as Matt got behind the wheel with Lizzie at his side he couldn’t help but smile. This girl was beautiful, strong and smart and he could feel something about her. There was a connection stronger than attraction, but he didn’t know what.
They were followed by Paul driving Lizzie’s Aston; he noticed her looking worryingly into the mirror to see how her car was. Matt stifled a small laugh and said “When do we turn?” she refocused and pointed him to turn left.
They pulled up outside the house where Paul was to leave the car. Paul parked in the drive while Matt turned the car around. As he shifted his body to see if there was anything behind him, he accidentally touched Lizzie’s leg. Their eyes met and a spark flew across the gaze, the sexual tension quadrupled, both of them felt it and began to lean in, the door opened Paul jumped in and the moment was gone. The drive too the university was quiet but enjoyable, Matt couldn’t get rid of his smile. He pulled over into a small car park, he was distracted as they entered, it took him a couple of seconds to realise who was standing in front of him. The man from his dream, the man he was certain killed Paul's girlfriend.
Paul was so eager to meet Professor Shrive he didn’t notice Matt’s face drop. Lizzie, on the other hand, had noticed everything and was struggling to get out of the car. Matt stood in silence as Paul introduced himself to the Professor. Matt was dumbfounded, his usual sharp mind was blunt. Before he regained control of his motor functions he felt a hand slip into his.

Lizzie witnessed Matt's reaction to seeing the man and for some reason it upset her. She didn’t like to see him like that. Without really thinking she struggled out of the car, hobbled towards him and took hold of his hand.
Paul was oblivious; he was heartily shaking the hand of the only man in the world that looked as shocked as Matt felt. After a few seconds Professor Shrives years of schmoozing university benefactors kicked in and he was as smooth as a used car salesman.
“How can this man stand there as if nothing is wrong?” Matt said to himself.
Lizzie heard every word he said and looked at him worried, “What’s wrong?” she asked Matt with genuine concern. He didn’t answer straight away. Turning towards her, trying to keep her off of her bad foot, he looked at her with such intensity and care.
”I need you to get back into the car” he almost pleaded “take the keys and if anything happens I need you to leave” he continued.
It was Lizzie’s nature to argue, but for some reason the emotion she felt cascading through her and her growing feelings for this man prevented every natural instinct she had at that moment.
“Ok” she said smiling, hoping it would have the desired effect on Matt.
It did, his spirits lifted slightly as he helped her hobble back into the driver’s seat of the car.
As the car door closed, Lizzie watched Matt turn his attention back to the professor and Paul, but was sharply pulled out of the day dream she was heading towards by the vibrations coming from her pocket.
“Hello?” she said, still watching Matt.
“Lizz?” came the reply “Are you ok?”
“Karen. What’s the Matter?” she said absently
“Me? Are you ok? My neighbour saw you on the side of the road, she said it looked like you had an accident and then when I came home and saw your car in my drive, I worried” she said with a hint of panic in her voice. Lizzie was so distracted by Matt that it took her a second to reply.
“You got in a car with two strange men!” came Karen’s reply after Lizzie had regaled her with the day’s adventure.
“I know, it never occurred to me that it was a stupid idea, he just seemed so nice.” the last few words were out of her mouth before she realised she had said them. Karen gave a knowing sigh down the phone line, “ok, as long as you are ok, let me know how you get on when..” BANG! The bullet left a small hole in the windshield and hit the passenger seat with a soft yet powerful thump. Glass rained down on her as three more holes appeared in the windscreen. After the first shot, Lizzie had dived into the back seat and cowered as low as she could.
There was no noise anywhere; after thirty seconds she decided to risk a peek over the seat. Looking outside she instantly saw Matt racing to the car. Their eyes met, she gave a gentle nod which Matt knew meant she was ok. With that confirmation he turned and ran after Paul who was chasing the gun wielding professor.


Chapter 17

Matt closed the door of the car and turned his attention back to Paul. Matt couldn’t stop thinking about the dream he had had, and how real it seemed. He got within ten feet of the talking pair when it occurred to him that the professor hadn’t actually noticed him. All of a sudden he felt a chill go down his spine “Someone is walking on my grave” he thought to himself. A phrase often used by his grandmother but until now he never really understood the intensity of its meaning. Something was wrong.
Paul could also sense something not quite right about the man standing in front of him. He had expected to be taken to an office or lecture hall, somewhere he could get his answers. But the professor didn’t seem to want to move and for some strange reason never once looked into his eyes.
Professor Shrive didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know, he wouldn’t even explain the origin of the cult and whether they were still in existence.
Paul was increasingly loosing interest in what he was listening to, his attention started to wander. He absently scanned the car park not paying much attention to anything until his gaze rested on a car, a bright yellow car that set alarms screaming in his head. “Calm down you Muppet, there are hundreds of yellow cars in the world” a voice from deep inside yelled. But he couldn’t drop that feeling of unease, something wasn’t right.
Becoming increasingly nervous he attempted to finish the conversation and leave.
“Nonsense, I insist you come to my office for a coffee, I have much more to tell you” said the professor in a new firmer tone.
“Thank you but no we really should be leaving now” Paul replied with forced lightness,
“We?” said Shrive and with that both men looked round at the approaching Matt.
Realisation exploded within Paul’s brain the second he saw the expression on Matt’s face, in an instant he knew this was the man, this was the bastard that killed Becki. He turned to face Shrive but was momentarily thrown by the look on his face. It was a cross between recognition and terror. “What the hell?” Paul thought, attempting to regain full control of his body. Shrive was too quick, before Paul could react Shrive had produced a small six shooter handgun, the type you often see in the black and white gangster movies from the forties. The gun caught Paul square in the chin, knocking him to the floor but not knocking him out. Time seemed to slow and as he felt himself falling he saw Shrive fire the gun in Matt’s direction.
He was too slow; Shrive had seen Matt before he could get close enough. A gun appeared from Shrives pocket glistening as he lifted it to chest height, terrified Matt watched Paul fall to the floor. The first shot didn’t even register in his brain, as it whizzed within inches of his ear.
The second and third bullets screamed past as something else hit him, “Lizzie” he thought with a jolt, he was in direct line with the car. Turning on a sixpence he sped back towards the car. As he did, something weird happened, almost as though someone had high jacked his brain and taken control. His head jerked suddenly to the left and he felt something hot smear his cheek.
Paul watched the scene play out as he lay on the floor. But he couldn’t really believe what he was seeing. He saw the man he had known for a couple of weeks actually dodge a bullet facing away from it. “That would be so cool if we weren’t about to die” he thought as he attempted to clamber to his feet.
Shrive was just as shocked as Paul was by the amazing agility? Luck?. His look of amazement soon turned to terror, as he saw Matt turn from the car and head back towards him. It never occurred to him to fire the final two bullets, all he could think of doing was to run.
Paul, back on his feet but still a little unsteady, took a second for his mind to click back into gear, to reprocess the information he had, the fact that this man had killed Becki, this man that was now running away. “NO!” he screamed as he ran after him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Matt careering after the professor as well. He gained extra confidence and strength from the fact that this man was by his side.


Chapter 18

Shrive was running for his life. Actually that wasn’t true, his life wasn’t important. After years of servitude and worship he had realised that it was the mission that Mattered. If he didn’t think of something soon, the only person who could effect or even prevent the crusade was going to discover the information he may need. The only advantage he had was his knowledge of the campus, he had to make it count it was his only hope.
Running as fast as his old legs would take him, he turned out onto the main road and then instantly down the alley beside the psychology tower. He considered throwing the gun into a dumpster as he entered the back of the building and headed for the lift.
Matt soon caught up with Paul and the two of them increased their pace to close the gap on Shrive. They almost caught him just before they hit Park Place but got caught up in a group of students staggering out of the union bar. As they escaped the pedestrian traffic jam, it occurred to Paul that most of them looked the same; same clothes, haircut, shoes and scruffy rucksacks.
They watched Shrive enter a tall building that looked like a council flat tower block and raced in after him.
Inside, they decided to split up. Matt would work from the top floor down and Paul would do the reverse, and of course in true cheesy cop show style, the lift wasn’t working so Matt had to run up a staircase that had a faint smell of marijuana.
He arrived at the top floor and began searching the empty lecture halls and offices without any luck. Eight floors down Paul was having even less luck. He was found by a campus security guard and when Paul couldn’t produce any ID he had been expelled with what he felt was a little too much force.
Outside the building he found Lizzie hobbling towards him dazed and shaken. In the confusion he had forgotten all about her.
“What the hell was that?” she said with a rising fury in her voice. Paul looked at her then at the building and across to the security guard with the resolute look in his eyes. Resigning himself to the fact he wasn’t going to get in he turned back to Lizzie and began to explain.
It can’t have taken more than three minutes to briefly run through all that had happened. Lizzie listened intently, and only spoke once, when Paul told her about the rapist. “That was you?” she said with a hint of admiration.
Once he had finished explaining he attempted to turn his full attention back to the tower, but Lizzie looked puzzled. He could almost hear the cogs in her head pulling apart his story and attempting to make sense of it. Finally she said “This other professor, he wouldn’t happen to be Jonathon Whyte, would he?”
“Yes, how did you know?” Paul replied with renewed interest.
“Uh I’ve read about him” she lied “I love all that old history stuff.” continued Lizzie in what she hoped was a light tone. She didn’t like where this was heading, and if her father was involved she wanted to speak to him first.
Before she could question Paul any further, there was an almighty smash from above them. They both looked up but were instantly showered in falling glass.
Neither one noticed the minor cuts and grazes they had received from the shower of the window because their focus was on the “seven, eight, ninth” floor window Paul counted. In the hole where the glass used to be, they could just see to figures. They were obviously fighting and leaning precariously out of the window.
*
“I am so out of shape” Matt wheezed to himself as he reached the ninth floor. He was just about to pass the entrance and keep heading up when he heard shouting and then a muffled bang coming from the other side of the door. Like an idiot in one of those American horror movies, instead of turning and finding help like a normal person would have, he decided to go and confront Shrive.
Slowly, he opened the door and peeked through. Even though it was a fairly bright day outside, the gloom in the corridor seemed to engulf him.
They say you can’t learn anything from TV or film but as he made his way down the gloomy corridor, Matt was attempting to remember every action or suspense film he had ever seen. “What did Indiana Jones do, Bruce Willis in Die Hard or even Jimmy Stewart in Vertigo?” With all these thoughts racing through his mind, he got to the end of the corridor without realising it. As he edged his way in to the bleak corridor he could see less and less the further down he went. His heart froze in his chest as he saw a figure hidden in the corner. It looked as though it was waiting for someone to come through the door of lecture hall “9C”, Matt read in the gloom.
“He hasn’t seen me” he thought as he started to sneak forward. His heart was pounding hard and fast, it felt so loud Matt was sure it was going to give him away.
He got closer and closer and still the figure didn’t move. With each step Matt's confidence grew, “I can do this” he thought as he took another step to take him to within five feet. But when his foot softly planted itself on the floor it landed in a liquid. It wasn’t water, Matt knew that. Whatever this was, it was slightly sticky.
Before his brain could register the fact that he was standing in blood, Shrive came crashing through the door and launched himself at Matt.
Matt had about a stone on Shrive and also at least twenty five years, so when they collided Matt managed to stay on his feet.
Shrive was not so lucky, as he hit Matt the gun and its precious final bullet went flying off into the dark. Matt was the first to his feet, but a combination of fear, adrenaline and the dark scrambled his instincts for a second. This was when Shrive took his chance.
Again he lunged at Matt, but this time he went low and with a tackle that a professional rugby player would have been proud of he swept away Matt’s legs. His head left a bloody great hole in the plasterboard wall, but he didn’t feel sorry for it because he was sure that if he lived after today, the wall would have left its mark on Matt’s head.
Shrive was on Matt with surprising speed, his small surprisingly hairy hands were round Matt's neck trying to choke the life out of him. His vision had a distinct spotty feeling to it and his chest felt like it weighed a tonne but he managed to draw from some deep energy reserve and with an almighty effort Matt lifted his foot and aimed it squarely at the centre of his chest. It worked better than he had hoped, Shrive almost launched off the floor and went crashing through a plywood door into a class room.
Taking a few seconds to regain his senses, Matt got up and staggered after him. The classroom was darker than the hallway, every window covered by a horrible brown blind.
Shrive was cowered behind a desk at the far left hand end of the room. In his hand was a metal chair leg he had broken as he fell through the door.
“You will not stop us!” Screamed Shrive in an almost hysterical voice.
“You killed my friend’s girl and you’re going to jail” Matt said with anger beginning to course through his veins.
“Ha, that girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time” Shrive said with a mocking tone.
“He’s loosing his mind!” Matt thought with horror. “What are you talking about, Paul says you drove at her deliberately?” he said hesitantly.
The reply was vicious and unexpected. Matt had made his way round the opposite end of the room and was now standing with his back to the window and his hands on the blind, about to lift it. Shrive exploded from his hiding place and screamed “It wasn’t her I tried to kill, it was YOU!”
Matt was dumbfounded, this man was mad, he wasn’t even in the same county as Becki.
As Matt tried to process this information Shrive was charging like a rabid bull. Matt was too late, by the time he snapped back into reality Shrive was on him and they both went crashing through the window.
The sunshine sliced into the gloom and temporarily blinded both men. As Matt had his back to the light he managed to recover and cling onto the window frame, preventing both men from falling.
Matt still had his feet on the floor but if it wasn’t for Shrives hands having tight hold of his shirt, he would have gone out and down.
“You are so stupid” Shrive sneered at him.
“How can someone so unbelievably thick be such a threat to us and to the cleansing crusade?”
Matt was barely taking anything in, his sole focus was on keeping himself from falling out. However, Shrives next statement would have sent him to his death if it wasn’t for the timely intervention of the police.
“You were there in the dream, you saw me come at you, it was you I was trying to kill but somehow you escaped.”
Two Police men helped Matt back to his feet and escorted him down to the lobby. There, he was briefly questioned about the body in the hall. Paul and Lizzie had explained everything else before the police had found him.
Paul raced into the building, bursting through the police cordon and running as hard as he could towards Matt. Lizzie came hobbling through behind him and instantly Matt's spirits lifted. It was strange how these two people who he had known for a combined total of two weeks and about four hours could make him feel comfortable and strong.
“Well?” Paul asked with impatience. But Matt didn’t have to answer because at that moment three police officers walked across the lobby with a handcuffed Shrive. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Paul felt a genuine smile creep across his face.
Lizzie had slumped down beside Matt with a worried look on her face but her concern melted away when he turned to her, kissed her cheek and smiled. She probably would have blushed if it wasn’t for the handcuffed man she saw walking through the lobby. Her worry for her father increased ten fold as she realised that this man used to work with him.
Shrive looked at the three of them and cackled “it is over, there is no one left to help you. We will succeed, the only person who could help is gone”. Lizzie snapped, broken foot be damned she thought as she flew at Shrive, and with as much power as she could muster she threw her fist as hard as she could at his face. There was a terrible wet crunchy sound as his nose crumpled and three bones in her hand broke. No one was quick enough to prevent her, and a couple of the police officers even stood back and chuckled.
Clutching her hand, she turned back to Matt and smiled. Matt looked confused, the second man on their list was a Professor Whyte. “Crap” he thought as realisation spread across his face. Lizzie saw this, stepped forward and passed out in Matt's arms.
“What was that?” Paul asked.
“The other man on our list is Lizzie father.” he replied solemnly.


Chapter 20

“How could things be going so wrong now after years of preparation?” thought Joshua Chappele as he packed his suitcase. He had been in a foul temper ever since he had received the phone call from Wales.
He was so angry that he decided it was necessary to break his exile and travel to Cardiff to sort the problem out himself.
Shrive was only one of the lower servants so didn’t know, or fully understand, his masters’ grand plan. So to a certain extent his ignorance could be excused. But everyone in the order knew that the emerald eyes must not be harmed. That mistake was inexcusable, so yet again it fell to him to fix it. In a way, he was relieved to be leaving the stifling heat of Cape Town. He had only been there six months but he was ready to leave. He could never go back to his adopted home, Greenland, because of the incident with the girl and the iguana. “But at least Wales would have a cooler climate than this hellhole” he thought as he left the house he had been using.
It was a four hour taxi ride to the airport, so during that time he made all the arrangements for his trip to Britain. A car would pick him up at Heathrow and drive him to Cardiff where he would be met by the Welsh operative and taken to his lodgings.
The in-flight movie was The Da Vinci Code, which, despite his constant laughing throughout the runtime, was apparently not a comedy.
The flight landed in London and much to Joshua's delight it was pouring with rain. Using his credentials he easily got through customs without baggage checks, though he wondered whether the customs officers would recognise anything potentially harmful in his assortment of toys.
A tall black man in a chauffeur’s uniform was there to greet him, and after living in South Africa for six months Joshua was slightly taken aback when the driver began to speak,
“I am Chris and I’ll be your driver” he said in a thick Scottish accent.
The car was a stretch-limo and during the journey he treated himself to a couple of brandies and a couple of hour’s sleep.
He was woken by the door opening and a gentle voice calling him, “Sir, wake up you have arrived” came the voice of a small man dressed in a blue robe. Joshua woke up fresh, alert, and ready for action but he knew there were certain rituals and tasks he had to perform.
That evening he joined the congregation in service. This consisted of a meal of couscous with raisins and sweetcorn, a silent prayer and then drinking and dancing in the rectory. The Chinju had taken over Christian churches, Muslim Mosques and any other temple or holy place they felt better suited them than the previous owner.
Tonight they were in a 16th Century C of E church. Joshua liked the Christian temples more than any others, they had a majestic aura about them and he understood how those fools could feel closer to their god in that space.

After a good evening he retired to his room and slept soundly in his four-poster bed.
Next morning he woke early, completely refreshed with no trace of a hangover, ready for his task in hand.
It was a twenty minute journey to the central station. He spent the time silently meditating.
The car pulled-up outside Cardiff Police station, taking one final breath he got out and went into the building of Law enforcement.
As he expected, he had no problem bypassing the customary checks and was soon waiting in an interview room for Shrive.
Five minute’s wait and Shrive came striding through the door. Joshua felt a respect for the man as he came through the door. Even though he knew his fate, he did not cry out or cower away even though Joshua could see a deep rooted fear in his eyes. Shrive sat down, the guard left and Joshua began.


Chapter 21

Two days after they had confronted Shrive, Matt was reading the front page of a newspaper. “Professor Peter Shrive was found dead in his cell this morning. Initial reports suggest he died from a heart attack. Shrive was being held by Cardiff Police for the murder of a university security guard and a suspected hit-and-run in Norwich a number of months ago” Matt read the words aloud to Paul as the two of them sat in Lizzie’s hospital room.
Lizzie woke from a deep dreamless sleep and heard most of the article from the paper.
She turned to Matt and with a smile said
“I’m not going to get rid of you now am I?” Matt looked deep into her and replied
“I sincerely doubt it”
Putting a little air of pathetic into her voice she said “Would you be able to get me some more water?”
“Of course” said Matt picking up the jug.
As soon as he was out of the room she clambered out of bed and attempted to find her clothes.
“Don’t say anything” she ordered Paul. “I have to go and find my father” she called from the toilet as she gingerly pulled up her skirt.
“We know” replied Paul, that’s why Matt got three tickets to Switzerland, we leave in seven hours” he said with a smile. It took Lizzie a second or two to process the information.
“Three tickets?”
“Yeah, I still need to know what happened and your father is the only shot I have so I’m going to help you find him”
“What about Matt?” Lizzie asked hesitantly
“Well you seem to have had a bit of an effect on him, he says he can’t let you go on your own with a broken foot and he thinks if I go without him I might get myself killed”
Lizzie’s head felt light and as Matt walked back in the room she felt herself blush so hard she ducked back into the toilet and shut the door. Paul burst out laughing as Matt with a confused expression asked
“Did you tell her?”
All Paul could do was nod, he hadn’t laughed so hard in years.
“What’s the joke?” Matt asked becoming more and more confused. Wiping tears from his eyes he was about to say something when a fully dressed Lizzie came hobbling out and interrupted
“Nothing, just a little joke that’s not really that funny” she said glaring at Paul, but he could see that she had been laughing as well.


Chapter 22

They arrived at Cardiff International Airport three hours before the flight was due to leave. But with the reliability of British Airways it ended up being five. Lizzie became more and more agitated as the time dragged on, beginning to fear the worst.
Finally Paul had a brainwave and the three of them headed for an internet connection. There they would search for any news stories or information they could find on Lizzie’s father.
After an hour of searching they didn’t come up with anything. This seemed to calm Lizzie down but as Paul and Matt exchanged looks they became distinctly more worried.
Lizzie insisted they all have a coffee and that she would buy, so she hobbled off to the counter as the men took a table in one of the many coffee shops.
“It doesn’t look good does it?” Paul asked.
“No. From what we have seen so far I’m beginning to wonder” Matt said as he watched Lizzie at the counter.
It was then that Matt thought about telling Paul what Shrive had said while he was dangling out of the window but he decided against it “not until I know more” he thought to himself.
Lizzie came hobbling back after refusing help from three men. After only three days both men knew how head strong she was so neither one offered to help her. Instead they found it funny to watch the men get shot down in a blistering ball of flames.

After what seemed like an eternity they were called to board the plane. The three of them all managed to sit together and, because of Lizzie’s injury, managed to finagle extra leg room for the two hour flight.
All three slept for virtually the entire flight and were gently woken by the flight attendant when they landed.

Chocolate, was about the only thing that either man knew about Switzerland so they were completely dependant on Lizzie to guide them.
She expertly got them through customs in fluent German and managed to hail a taxi to get them to her father’s house.
In the taxi Paul attempted to ask questions about her father and his work but she was too worried to answer. Matt gave him a stern look so he stopped asking and sat back to watch the scenery.

Thirty minutes later they pulled up outside a three story town house. Lizzie’s worry got the better of her and panic finally took over. She leapt out of the car and fell straight on her backside. Paul threw money at the driver and followed them out. He knew he had to be the calm one so as Matt helped Lizzie into the house, he stayed and looked after the luggage that the driver was removing from the boot of the car.

The front door was ajar, which is the world wide signal for trouble. Matt tried to go first but Lizzie was having none of it. She almost shoved him out of the way and crept in. The flat was a bomb site, tables over turned, a white ceramic lamp had shattered across the hall, books and papers were everywhere. It seemed as though someone had taken every item the professor owned and scattered it across the floor.
“Your father needs a new maid” Paul said as he stepped through into the hall. He dropped the bags in the entrance and began to look around.
“What did your dad know that made him so important?” Paul asked in an unnecessarily heartless tone. To his credit he instantly realised his callousness and apologised.
Lizzie understood his meaning and with a forced smile she said “I don’t know, I never really knew the details of his work. All I knew was he was closely investigating a religious order”
Matt and Paul looked at each other and a wordless understanding crossed between them “Chinju”.
Lizzie couldn’t understand why there was no evidence of a police investigation. There were no cordons, signs or any other hint that anyone had been in since her dad left.
They searched tirelessly for three hours and were on the verge of giving up when Lizzie spotted something she had never seen before. Her dad usually had good taste; his home was nicely decorated with tasteful furniture and decorations. So what was a straw donkey doing smack bang in the middle of the living room?
Puzzled, she bent over and picked it up, but as she did a number of papers slid out the bottom like money emptying from a piggy bank.
Loosing all interest in the crass souvenir of a place she was sure her father had never been, she picked up the papers and began to flick through them. The first three were of no real interest, histories and biographies of ancient religions. But then she came across pages entitled “Prophecies” which interested her more.
Stepping back, she slumped onto what was left of the sofa and began to read. The document she began with looked extremely old, the edges were frayed and it looked like someone had spilt tea all over it. The writing was spider-like and she had a little trouble deciphering it.
It was the prophecy of a “Mahon Shambrook” in the ninth century before Christ. From what she could make out, this guy predicted that

“The one true faith would rise to power in the
Seventh year beyond the New Horizon”

Lizzie wasn’t buying it, but out of a strange compulsion she read on.

“The Deuce with the impure vision will destroy the Emerald Eye, if not they will prevent the holy transition and the righteous shall not rise”

“Dad, what sort of lunatics were you associating with?” Lizzie said shaking her head.
“Guys come here” Paul shouted from another room.
They both jumped from what they were doing and went to see what the commotion was. They found Paul in the professor’s bedroom standing over his desk. He turned to look at them; his face was white as a house wife’s table cloth.
“What is it?” Matt said anxiously. Paul didn’t answer he just lifted a photograph up to eye-level and turned it, revealing a picture of a man walking down a street. It took Matt and Lizzie a second to realise; when they did, it was at the same moment. The man in the photo was Paul.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Matt, but Lizzie just stared, then all of a sudden she lunged at Paul screaming
“IS THIS YOUR FAULT? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY FATHER?”
She never actually reached Paul because Matt caught hold of her and restraining her with all his might attempted to calm her down.
Paul left the room, his head was spinning, what the hell was Lizzie’s dad doing with a picture of him? And he still wasn’t any closer to understanding why Becki had been killed. Matt had said that Shrive didn’t talk when they were fighting, but Paul could see something in his eyes that wasn’t quite right.
He trusted Matt and knew that if and when the time came, Matt would be truthful with him.
Ten minutes later Lizzie came through to where Paul had been sitting. He could see that she had been crying and was still visibly upset so he held his tongue, allowing her to speak first.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you” she said not looking at him “I just don’t understand” she continued.
“Lizzie” Paul said with such affection that it made her look up “I swear on my life I have not had anything to do with your father or the people who have him”
She looked at him and nodded “I know” she said with a weak smile. He seemed happy with that and Lizzie really did understand that he was innocent, but there was a small nagging itch in her deep subconscious that wasn’t sure.


Chapter 23

They had no leads, no help and no clue where to look. For three days they hovered around the flat, helpless and clueless. The biggest thing they achieved was to tidy and fix the house. After the third day Paul took his cue and left Lizzie and Matt alone in the flat. He finally got the hint when Matt handed him his coat and a map of Bern.
After being with people for the best part of two weeks, Paul was glad to have some alone time. He thought how his therapist would be pleased that he was fully interacting on a social level again. The fact he hadn’t even thought about his problem since he had known Matt was just a bonus. However, something told him that it would come to be an issue sooner rather than later.
Back in the flat Lizzie and Matt were perched on either end of the sofa. The previous few days had been so intense and emotional that any interaction between the two of them had been powered by adrenaline. Now they were in peaceful surroundings and had the opportunity to do anything, neither of them made a move.
“Come on you idiot” Matt thought to himself “if you don’t do something soon you’re going to miss your chance” he mumbled this a little loud, causing Lizzie to turn and ask
“Did you say something?”
“Me? No I didn’t” Matt stammered, while internally berating himself. Little did he know that the exact same thoughts were running through Lizzie’s mind.

During the disaster that was Matt and Lizzie’s first attempt at a date, Paul was wandering the town taking in the sights. It was spectacular; he noticed how the history of the Swiss was sublimely blended with the modern architecture of the new developments. Mixing the urban history with the mountains on the horizon gave him a deep sense of calm.
This flowed through him all evening, or at least until she appeared again.
It was the exact same feeling as the first time it had happened outside his office. He was less than a mile from Lizzie’s flat when the night once again died. The air felt heavy in his lungs, the night seemed to turn a darker shade of black like someone lowered the brightness with a TV remote.
This time he kept moving, he knew she was coming and he didn’t want to know what would happen if and when she arrived. His pace quickened; his heart matching his stride beat for beat.
Adrenaline finally took over every cell of his body and his pace quickened to a pace he could never have achieved under normal circumstances. As he ran, he thought of the road runner cartoons and wondered if his feet were moving fast enough to look like the bird’s. But before he could resolve this issue she appeared. There in front of him appearing from the gloom stood the woman with the Purple eyes. If feet could screech like the brakes of an old car Paul’s would have when he stopped. He stopped with such power he was sure he would go arse over tit.
They stood feet from each other, the brilliant colour of her eyes piercing the darkness penetrating him like an x-ray.
The voice came from everywhere except, it seemed, from her mouth, “Paul” came the ethereal voice
“We need you Paul, you must show us the emerald eye” the voice oozed out of the black and slithered into his brain like a sexual snake.
Paul was helpless; his entire body had shut down. He was terrified yet fascinated by the woman standing in front of him. She was perfect, her body, eyes, hair, everything screamed sexuality. Problem was, her aurora wasn’t the only thing screaming. A tiny portion of Paul’s subconscious had resisted the invasion and was beginning to retake his mind. The thought got louder and bigger “Get out of here, she is trouble” it bellowed but the resistance hadn’t reached his legs yet and she knew it. Her left hand gently brushed his face while her right one slid behind his neck pulling him to her.
He resisted just for a second and managed to ask “Who are you?” the reply was short and sweet. This time the words did come from her lips,
“I am your destiny” she purred in a voice somewhere between Scarlett Johansson and Greta Garbo.
She kissed him, hard yet gentle, passionate yet playful. It was the most intoxicating kiss he had ever known. But it wasn’t right, flashes flickered across his mind. Bits and pieces he couldn’t make out, but then one image lingered. He could clearly see Matt, Lizzie and Becki lying side by side on a soft white satin sheet. All three bodies were broken and decomposing.
This image finally pulled him out of her spell and into darkness. As he fell through the dark abyss he heard her one final time “It has begun” the words came but he barely registered them.

“Hello, anyone in there?” Matt called as he tried to wake Paul. He woke with a start lifting his torso off the bed with such ferocity that he knocked the coffee mug from Matt's hand, sending it flying. “Damn it!” Matt swore as the hot coffee covered his hand. “Bad dream?” he said as he looked for something to wipe it with. “Erm, yeah. I think so” Paul replied, still confused. “Actually I’m a little surprised to wake up, I thought I was dead” he continued. All the humour went from Matt's face, “What do you mean?” he asked tentatively. Paul looked at him with a stern look and said “Well you know your dream in the hotel? This was more realistic”.
Matt was stunned, he hadn’t told Paul all the details of the dream, only the general gist, but if Paul went through something like he had then that could only mean trouble.
Matt sat, quietly intrigued, while Paul told him about his previous two meetings with the “Purple woman” as he called her. He explained about the incident just after Becki’s death and then the psychopathic priest. Paul thought that any other person but Matt would have trouble believing him, but he knew Matt not only believed but he understood.
The two men sat in silence for a good five minutes until it was broken by Lizzie,
“Morning guys” she said semi-cheerfully
“Looks like someone had a good night last night” she said pointing at Paul’s neck. The two men looked confused, Paul walked to the mirror to see what it was. He turned back to Matt with a look that was becoming far too familiar. Tilting his head and pulling his hair out of the way, he revealed a kiss shaped ring of lipstick, a deep purple kiss of lipstick.


Chapter 24

“I’m going to be staying late tonight” called the curator of the Swiss National Museum as the security guard clocked on. All he got in reply was half a shrug and a grunt. Smiling to himself, the curator wondered if any of the security guards family were in the prehistoric wing, they had a nice selection of Neanderthals.
He worked silently for a couple of hours until the call of the caffeine could be resisted no more. This was the only part of his job that annoyed him, if he wanted a coffee he had to walk right across to the other end of the building to the kitchen. He had to walk through the exhibits which he always liked, the problem was that it took so long to get back that by the time he did, he had either drunk it or it had gone cold.
As he took his usual route through the classical wing he thought to himself how much simpler it would be to buy himself a coffee maker and leave it in his office.
A few minutes later he was stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to come to the boil. Standing among the startling white units and grimy grey worktop he pondered the fact that every kitchen he had ever been in always had the same smell, detergent and stale tea leaves. When he was there at night he always kept the door to the kitchen open, it looked straight down a long hallway. Being able to see all the way down made him feel a little easier. Usually he would have made the security guard a drink but tonight he hadn’t come across him. They had worked in the same building for eight years but he still didn’t know his name.
His mug in hand, he flicked off the light and headed back to his office as quickly as possible so his drink didn’t lose too much heat.
He finally got back, managing to retain at least some of the warmth of his coffee and was just about to go into his office when for some reason he stopped and looked back down the hall. Deep in the darkness he could see someone moving. He tensed and his pulse hastened a little.
“Oh, you gave me a start” he sighed to the security guard.
He closed the door to his office a little too hard causing the glass to rattle in its frame.
He sat down and flipped open the top of his laptop so he could finish off a report he needed for his conference the next morning.
He sat typing for a few minutes, oblivious to the emptiness around him. Finally he paused to take a sip of his now luke-warm coffee. With the cup to his mouth he looked up and saw the security guard just feet from his door. Ignoring him, he placed the mug back on his coaster and began typing again.
The glass from the door exploded out towards the curator, amazingly missing him. The security guard had collapsed and had almost dived head first through the office door.
The curator, who was cowering under his desk, emerged shaking the debris out of his hair and the confusion out off his brain. Back on his feet he looked down at the security guard and violently vomited. The security guard was laying face down in an increasing pool of blood and the handle of a medieval dagger he recognised as belonging in a display case just down the hall sticking out of the base of his skull.
The curators mind was a chaos of confusion and terror. He was completely cut off in his office; he picked it because there was no phone. He loved the fact that no one could interrupt him without walking all the way down to his end of the building.
Cautiously he looked out of the hole in the door. Initially he couldn’t see anything, then all of a sudden out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of movement. He panicked and tried to run but slipped on the security guard’s blood that had gradually made its way across the floor. He fell with the force of a falling tree, cracking his head on the handle of the door.
He didn’t pass out and was actually so scared he barely felt the pain throbbing through his head.

Running, something he hadn’t done since he was young something he had enjoyed as a teenager. Now he was in his fifties and extremely out of shape he was struggling. Not even the adrenaline surging through his veins was enough to keep him going. So after only a few hundred yards his chest constricted and he couldn’t breath.
He stood bent double, desperately trying to catch his breath but unable to get it under control. Fighting a loosing battle he carried on moving, not sure whether he was aiming for a telephone or an exit.
Exhibits, paintings and locked doors flashed past as he struggled to keep moving. He could now hear footsteps ominously close behind him.
In a moment of clarity he realised he wasn’t far from the fire escape, he could sneak out of the building and head round to the front and to safety. This realisation seemed to spur him on and he gained a second wind. At his new speed he reached the fire door in less than thirty seconds. His hands were millimetres away from the push bar handle when something else occurred to him. Something he had once seen in a movie.
He stepped away from the door and headed back out into the corridor. Checking both ways like a child does on a busy road, he made his way to the window on the other side of the corridor. He was on the first floor and it was only about fifteen feet to the ground. “If only I was twenty years younger” he thought as he watched the cars go past. Then the footsteps arrived back into his hearing range. Slow and steady came the ever nearing footsteps. Now he was stood still and the loud thud of his heart wasn’t reverberating through his skull, he could listen carefully to the noise his would-be killer was making. He was sure that the steps sounded like whoever was after him was wearing high heels.

Quickly he looked round for something small enough to throw. With a saddened heart he saw that the only thing small enough was a statue sitting contently on its pedestal. He picked it up judging if it was heavy enough “it will have to do” he thought as he launched the small figurine of a naked man through the glass.
The noise was instant; the alarms screamed their message piercing the curator’s brain like a drill through butter.
The noise was so intense he had trouble concentrating on the rest of his plan. He attempted to remove his jacket while at the same time keeping his ears covered. Wrapping the jacket round his hand he punched the glass to create a big enough hole for him to climb out of. Once he had achieved this he threw the jacket out and watched it flutter to the floor. With that done he turned and ran back to the fire exit.

His pursuer arrived at the window literally seconds after he disappeared. The curator’s plan was taken straight out of the movies. He figured that if the broken window set the alarm off, his unseen companion would assume he had gone through it, leaving him to escape through the fire exit. Unfortunately the killer must have seen the same movie because instead of following the statue and jacket out of the window, she turned away from it and headed towards the curator’s escape route.
The sound of the glass crunching under the shoes of the assassin echoed through the museum and out into the fire escape. The curator stopped and listened, he knew the plan hadn’t worked.
The assassin found herself in a bleak concrete stairwell with a window at the bottom looking out over the car park at the back of the building. She waited looking out into the darkness. When she saw the curator appear she slowly raised a gun, screwed on a silencer, took aim and fired.
Something hard, hot and sharp ripped through his ankle and he fell. First his knee collided with the tarmac of the car park, shattering as it hit. He was in so much pain his brain didn’t have time to tell his arms to block his fall. His forehead collided with the ground and he actually heard his skull crack. His brain was doing somersaults, spots, stripes all sorts of shapes and colours were swimming across his eyes. He didn’t know which way was up and which was down. He didn’t know how long he had been lying there when in amongst the darkness and the carnival of shapes and colour parading in his head, he saw two distinctive shapes. Two piercing purple eyes coldly stared at him. A third shape appeared, a metallic circle glistened in front of him, and then there was nothing. His last thought was still trying to figure out what was going on.


Chapter 25

Matt and Lizzie paced around the living room like worried parents. They hadn’t seen or heard from Paul in hours. He went out at three in the afternoon and at one thirty in the morning he was still nowhere to be seen.
At about three in the morning Lizzie had given up her pacing and had crashed on the sofa exhausted, and not long after Matt had joined her. They sat wide awake, not talking or moving, neither one wanting to say or do anything.
They stayed there all night, finally falling asleep on each other. Lizzie delicately drooling on Matt's shoulder and he snoring loudly into the top of her head.
Paul arrived back at seven am. Slowly sneaking in so as not to wake them. He was still slightly shaky from his encounter the previous night and desperate to tell them; or Matt at least. After the two of them had explained all about the Purple woman to Lizzie she seemed a bit dubious. He found them both asleep on the couch and although he was desperate to tell them, he didn’t have the heart to wake them up.
“I’ll go down the street to the coffee shop” he thought to himself creeping back to the front door.
Just as he placed his hand on the handle a loud knocking came from the other side.
Matt woke with a start, and was about to start yelling when a second knock came. “Well answer it then” Lizzie said rubbing her eyes.
Paul opened the door to a tall gangly looking man in what Paul assumed was the Swiss police uniform.
The policeman instantly started speaking in rapid French. Paul looked helplessly over his shoulder in Lizzie’s direction. Lizzie got up off the sofa and walked to Paul’s side, and for the next two minutes just stood and nodded. Finally she turned, ignoring Paul to face Matt.
“It seems that we are being asked to accompany him to the museum, there is an inspector there who says he has information that may lead to my father”
Matt followed her confusion
“How do they know about your dad?” he said with a frown.
It turned out that the Policeman spoke some English and had followed the gist of the conversation. “Inspector…” he looked at his note book for a name, “Hunt, he look into your father” he said in broken English.
That was it, that was the catalyst, Lizzie was furious. The police had known her father had been taken or killed and they had not told her. She began to shout at the policeman who was still politely standing at the doorway, not coming in without an invitation. As she shouted she began to get her self ready to go. First she brushed her hair, then without any embarrassment removed her top in front of the three men, who were so surprised that not one of them had time to turn away. She removed a red jumper she had worn the previous day, revealing a midnight blue lace bra. She walked into the bedroom and came out with a white t-shirt half way over her head, still shouting in a mixture of French and English.
Then, as she headed for the bathroom, the policeman finally responded.
“I am sorry, but we do not investigate, it is looked at by Interpol” he said apologetically.
It stopped her in her tracks, “I’m sorry?” she said with surprise. She looked across at Matt and Paul who looked back thoroughly confused. She Shook her head and said “sorry, so the inspector who investigated my father’s disappearance isn’t Swiss? He is part of Interpol?”
Both men stayed silent, but again a silent understanding was shared and they both began to wonder what they were getting into.

They all squeezed into the car the Swiss Police had provided. Apparently they weren’t important enough to warrant a good car, or even a new one. The car they currently sat in was so old that none of them recognised it, not even Lizzie who worked with cars had a clue.
The journey to the museum was quiet; no one spoke, they didn’t know what to say.
After ten minutes they arrived at a very inconspicuous building. It looked like a group of terrace houses knocked into one. It sat right on the main road and had a thick coating of exhaust fumes that reached about a third of the way up the face.
Maybe it was because he had watched too many films, but Matt was kind of disappointed, he had recently watched a movie with a similar scenario they were facing, but that was done on a much grander scale.
The policeman was leaning through the window speaking to another uniformed man, Paul guessed that this man must be a security guard. “Apparently every one is round the back” Lizzie whispered to Matt after she listened to the conversation in front.
He barely acknowledged her, his disillusionment growing as they carefully drove down a side alley. Then with a burst of light they emerged on to an enormous flood lit car park, “bloody hell!” Matt exclaimed. The car park was teaming with police, news vans, ambulances and even a fire engine.
Also, the small building Matt had been so disappointed in stretched back for a solid half mile.
Suddenly his writer’s instinct and his sense of adventure flared up again.
The car parked and they were beckoned into a white tent that seemed to glow with another worldly light.
Once inside they saw that it was most certainly of this world. There were at least fifteen men and women milling about within the tent. Some in white overalls kneeling beside something on the floor, others had cameras taking pictures of everything they could, and at least four were just standing there watching and talking. One of these men broke off and headed to where they stood. Paul couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, walking towards him was a small bald man with a rotund stomach; he wore pin stripe trousers and if you can believe it an actual bowler hat, or at least half of one. The other two hadn’t seen, Lizzie nudged him and in a slightly scornful tone said “what are you laughing at?” still smiling, Paul pointed and said
“Look out; the Fat Controller is after us”. Lizzie looked in the direction he had pointed. The smile just appeared, she couldn’t help it; he did look like the children’s TV character. Unfortunately, ten minutes later they found out that he didn’t have the personality of his look-alike. This man was a sexist, horrible human being.
He started softly and slowly,
“Thank you for coming” he said in an un-placable accent. He sounded part Japanese, part African and slightly Welsh. Paul instantly disliked the inspector, there was some sort of vibe he couldn’t explain or describe. All he knew was this man was bad news and they had to get out quickly.
The inspector turned to Lizzie and said in a patronising tone “I think you should leave Madame, the sight of the body is not suitable for your delicate eyes”. Lizzie’s body shook with rage, Paul half expected her to burst out of her clothes and turn green.
“Now hold on one second” she began to protest, but Matt interjected “He’s right, if there is a body I would prefer you didn’t see it” he said with as much affection in his voice as he could muster. This only caused her to get worse, “You sod” she yelled, and then as she stormed out they heard “I thought you were different”.
Paul turned back to the inspector, “what body? Why are we here?” he asked as firmly as he could.
“Ah yeess” he said elongating his words. “At approximately midnight last night some one broke into the museum and killed a security guard”. They were then beckoned to follow him. They entered a small white tent and stopped by a white sheet covering the majority of the floor. With out pausing he whipped the white plastic sheet off the mound on the floor revealing a middle aged man, covered in blood and bruises, with a bullet hole in his forehead.
“Oh no” Paul thought as he felt that old familiar feeling wash over him. He moved to the body until he knelt down beside it. Fascinated he devoured every scrap of information about the dead body. Every bruise, cut, bump it all looked wonderful. Part of his brain was screaming “Look around you, look at these people, look at Matt” it ordered. Using every fibre of his being he pulled his mind and vision away from the corpse and looked round. Every person in the tent had stopped and was now looking directly at him. The thing that bothered him though, was the look in Matt's eyes; it was a look of horror and sympathy. He could picture his brain trying to understand, but failing.

Paul was about to stand up when he noticed something caught under the arm of the body. The police had lost interest in him and were busy doing what ever it is they were supposed to.
“Matt come here” Paul whispered “no thanks I’m ok over here thanks” he replied trying to sound calm.
“I’ve got to show you something” he insisted, waving Matt over with his entire body.
Slowly Matt edged his way to the body, going very slowly trying not to look. “Oh my god” Paul chuckled “you hypocrite, you sent Lizzie out but you can’t handle it yourself” laughed Paul as he pulled Matt's sleeve to bring him down to knee level.
“Here, this is what I wanted to show you” said Paul looking down at the body. Finally Matt, followed his gaze, looked directly at the body and fainted. The whole world went black and he was out.
“Perfect” thought Paul, while everyone was helping Matt he slipped the parchment he found into his pocket and slowly made his way out of the tent.
It took a second for his eyes to readjust after walking from the florescent brightness of the crime scene, out into the early morning gloom of the car park.
He found Lizzie sitting on a wall not far from the tent. He sat down beside her and said nothing. The two of them sat in silence for two minutes before Paul broke it. “He didn’t mean anything by it” he said with a smile. Lizzie looked at him and smiled herself.
“How can one man give off so many different vibes” She thought as she looked back at him.
“Want to hear something funny” Paul said nudging her in the side. Before she could answer he continued, “He fainted” he said like a child telling a secret. She looked round at him, eyes wide and said “What! That bastard!” she exclaimed, but there was no anger left in her voice.
“Here” he said quietly, “look at this”. He handed her a small piece of paper. On it there were few words, but they grabbed her full attention. On the paper were Lizzie’s, Matt's and Paul's names. Underneath was the line “Whyte alive, Serbia”
She was stunned into silence, her father was still alive? Could that be true?
The two of them were still trying to digest it when Matt walked sheepishly towards. Lizzie was so interested in the list that the only acknowledgement she gave Matt was a shrug and a tutt.
Paul was half way though showing and explaining his find when Inspector Hunt came storming over, followed by three officers. “Arrest them” he bellowed in a terrible French accent. It was good enough for the police to understand, because one grabbed Lizzie while the men had one on each arm.
“What’s going on?” Matt demanded “why have we been arrested?” he continued, staring directly into Hunt’s eyes.
“You are here von the charge of Murder” he shouted with what sounded like pleasure. “We believe that the list you stole off of the corpse was proof you three are involved in some sick cult. The curator found out about it and so to prevent him outing you, you killed him” he looked like he was giving a speech from Hamlet as he pranced across the floor. “That’s rubbish” screamed Lizzie as she slammed her free fist into the wall.
“I know it is” said a voice coming from the back. A small woman in a dark blue power suit stepped forward.
“Officer there are no grounds to hold them on, release them at once” Said the power suit as she stood face to chest with the police officer.
“Don’t you dare” screamed Hunt as he stormed towards her.
“Who gave this order?” he demanded.
Then his eyes caught site of the woman and his demeanour changed.
“I’m sorry maam I didn’t realise it was you” he said in a now whimpering voice. “Release them” he said.
The three of them walked away not saying a word. “I’m so sorry about the inconvenience, we had a miss-communiqué in the department, we have all we need from you, you may go” said the power suited woman.
Matt Lizzie and Paul were in such utter bewilderment that not one of them thought to protest or complain, they all just walked away silently. Inspector Hunt and the power suit watched the three walk to a cab and get in it.
“Do you think it wise to allow them to leave?” Hunt said to the power suit.
“Did they find the note you planted under the body?” she said in reply. Hunt nodded,
“Well then” she said with a new huskier voice, partly talking to herself she mumbled
“He can’t lead us to the end of the Emerald eye if they are in jail”.


Chapter 26

Back in the flat no one spoke, they were all overwhelmed with the morning’s entertainment. Paul and Lizzie were busy packing while Matt was on the internet seeing what the best way to get to Serbia was. After an hour of trying to decipher the Swiss websites he finally admitted defeat and conceded the computer to Lizzie.
Before he had gotten his suitcase open, she came through and with a smile stated proudly “The seven fifteen Eastern Express, leaving from platform eight”. The two men looked at each other in mild amusement and surprise.
“A train?” Matt asked, Lizzie was still a little hurt from his actions earlier on so answered a little harsher than maybe she should have.
“So! What’s wrong with a train?” she snapped. Matt raised his hands in surrender and with a smile said “Nothing, I was just asking”.
No more was said that day, with hardly a word being spoken until about an hour before they all went to bed. Matt cracked, and with a cup of tea and the best smile he could muster he apologised to Lizzie.
“I’m sorry” he said sheepishly, “I shouldn’t have treated you like that, I was wrong”
Lizzie tried her best to stifle a smile, “It’s ok” she said “after all, I could have fainted!” she continued. “You traitor” he yelled in a hurt but playful voice looking over at Paul. He wasn’t too hurt though, he was just happy Lizzie was speaking again.
After that the mood lifted and although there was the feeling in the pit of their subconscious that they were heading for trouble, by the time they boarded the train they felt like they were on holiday. Watching them board was Inspector Hunt and the Power Suit. They waited five minutes then boarded the train themselves. Walking past a carriage to an entrance they barely registered the deep purple eyes staring out.

The train was extremely modern; it had L.C.D TV screens in the headrests of the seats, state-of-the-art reclining chairs, high class toilets, it had everything.
The cabin they had was like a mini hotel room, if you couldn’t see the scenery speeding past the window, you wouldn’t have known you were on a train at all. It was great except for the size. The three of them squeezed into a cabin that was so small that you wouldn’t legally be allowed to transport animals in it. But it had a double bed and a pull out single.
Matt and Lizzie Spent about thirty minutes getting comfortable, Paul meanwhile was attempting to fix his suitcase, it was currently held shut with a piece of rope. Paul struggled for a while until Matt suggested that the three of them go down to the dining car for a drink. Paul was enthusiastic but Lizzie declined the invite, instead she was going to stay and read. The two men left the cabin and as he did, Matt gave a furtive look back at Lizzie, silently asking if she was ok. “I’m fine” she said with a forced smile that made Matt more uneasy about leaving. Lizzie then stepped forward and playfully shoved them out of the door.
The train was eleven cars long, they were situated in the second car, the two police officers were in the fifth, the Purple Woman in the fourth and the dining car was the last one on the train.
They reached the fifth car when Matt stopped and franticly patted his pockets, “Damn it I forgot my wallet” he said in frustration, “I’ll be back in a minute” he called as he ran back. Paul stood waiting in what appeared to be an empty passage way, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
Knocking on the cabin door never even crossed Matt's mind, he opened it and went straight in. He stepped over the threshold saw Lizzie and with one swift motion turned wanting to head back out but instead walked straight into the door.
He had caught Lizzie changing; she was stood by the window wearing nothing but her underwear. Matt hit his head hard, but didn’t manage to knock himself out. He stumbled to the floor, still trying not to look. Lizzie threw on a t-shirt and hurried across to help him. “Such a gentleman” she said as she examined his head. “You’ll be all right; you are going to have a hell of a lump but no harm done”
Matt had heard very little of what she was saying, he had been hypnotised by her legs. Two perfectly tanned and toned legs were escaping the dark clingy material of her t-shirt, and Matt thought they were the sexiest things he had ever seen.
Lizzie had noticed him looking, and although she wasn’t ready to act on anything yet, she didn’t mind it. In fact when she bent down to get a wash cloth out of her bag she may have bent over further than she needed to. It was then Matt noticed what he first thought to be a birth mark, but on second look he saw she had a lightning bolt tattoo on her inner right thigh. “A Couple of the lads on the tour call me sparky” she said after noticing him look at her tattoo. “So after one drink too many I ended up at the seediest place we could find and had this done” she said moving towards him. Standing within a foot of him she lifted her shirt slightly and showed him a close up view of her lightning strike. Now, Matt was no Casanova but he was usually ok when it came to women, but somehow this one had gotten into his brain with an egg whisk and just gone nuts, and he loved it.
He physically shook his head in an attempt to try and get rid of the mental images rolling through his mind. “I’m gonna go, Paul is waiting” he said with a slight fluster in his voice,
“You know where we are if you get bored” he continued while trying to regain some control.
Two minutes later, when he caught up with Paul, he still wasn’t thinking clearly and Paul could see that. “What happened to you” Paul asked as Matt walked right past without stopping.
“I’ll tell you, but I need a drink” he said firmly, but then he thought to himself “or maybe a cold shower would be better”
Intrigued Paul followed, and a minute later the two men were sat at the bar, Matt with rum and coke and Paul with a twelve year old scotch.
Thirty minutes later, ordering their third drinks Paul shouted a little too loud at the barman
“Can I please have it without ice” but instantly apologised realising the people at the other end of the car could hear him.
In fact the people at the other end of the car had heard every word they had said since they had left the museum car park the day before. Unbeknown to them, one of them had been bugged.

Hunt was sat in the corner of the dining car waiting for Matt and Paul to walk in. He saw them just in time, managing to switch seats so he was facing away from them. After forty five minutes he risked turning round. “This is going to be easy” he thought with relief, noticing they were on their fourth drinks all ready.
He put his right wrist up to his mouth and whispered something into his sleeve. Through the doors at Matt and Paul’s end of the car came the power Suit. Slick as a pick pocket she slipped an extra coaster on the bar. It was state of the art technology, built into the card was a tiny microphone that would pick up everything they said.
She casually continued up the car and sat down beside Hunt.
The two of them sat there until the bar closed and got nothing they could use. After a couple of hours the conversation had rapidly deteriorated into hugging and gibberish.
Finally Matt and Paul tried to get up off of their stools and head back to the cabin. This was easier said than done, and took them almost an hour to walk the short distance back. Matt didn’t actually make it back, the track must have curved round because the train bucked to the left causing Matt to lose his balance and fall through a cabin door. Paul was a few paces ahead when he heard him fall. Carefully he turned and holding on to the wall he made his way back. There was a strange noise coming from the door he had fallen through, it sounded like a gargling lion. “Wow, he makes a weird noise, I hope Lizzie knows what she is letting herself in for?” he thought as he watched Matt sound asleep on the floor.
“Screw it, he can stay there” Paul said to the empty cabin. He closed the door and leaving Matt to his sleep he continued his stagger up the corridor.
When he arrived back at the cabin, he did the usual drunk thing, trying desperately not to make a sound but failing miserably. Lizzie was lying on the single bunk, but he was pretty sure she had heard him come in. He didn’t bother getting undressed, he just collapsed on the bed and within three seconds of his head hitting the pillow he was out cold.


Chapter 27

The power suit left Hunt sitting in the dining car as she headed back to the cabin they were sharing. “Margaret” Hunt called her name as she walked away. She turned back to him, “we need to separate them, he has to be stopped” Hunt continued. She nodded at him and walked away.
At the third door of the next car she knocked, but did not wait to be let inside. “It needs to be done tonight” She said at the closed door, then walked away. Inside the room, a figure was sitting alone in the dark. The purple woman understood her orders and knew exactly what she had to do.
Casually, she left her cabin and strolled idly along the passageway between the cabins and the windows.

Stacy Allan was a lovely person, liked by her friends and had a loving close family. She was on a cross Europe trip with her husband, they were on their honeymoon. She had been planning her day carefully, making sure everything was perfect. She had spoken to the chef to arrange a perfect dinner with a romantic atmosphere. She had left her husband in the dining car to go back and get ready. Before the wedding she had bought a ridiculously naughty negligee, tonight was the perfect night for it.
She would change and then seductively wait for her husband. When he returned they would make love all night. Then, after, she would make things perfect by telling him she was pregnant.
The poor woman was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She walked past the purple woman, they exchanged polite smiles. The purple woman stopped three steps past Stacy, turned and quick as a cat, whipped out a small length of rope. She couldn’t believe how lucky she had been in finding the rope. She had watched him drag his suitcase along the platform and knew that if she got in their cabin she had her weapon. Almost before Stacy knew what was happening, the rope was round her neck and she was being dragged through a door.
She struggled with every ounce of her strength, sacrificing the cry for help in case it wasted the much needed energy she would have to consume.
“How can someone so small be so strong” Stacy thought as she began to really panic.
She watched the gloved hands slip away from the rope, seeing her chance she heaved with all her strength. She managed to knock her attacker off balance and clamber to her hands and knees. The purple woman was too fast, she regained her hold on the rope and pulled, hard.
Stacy couldn’t breathe; the rope burned her skin as it began to crush her windpipe. “What’s happening? This must be a joke” were the thoughts screaming inside Stacy’s head as the last seconds of life were squeezed out of her.

*

“AAAAGGHHH” a scream exploded from what seemed like just outside of the cabin. Paul leapt out of bed, tripped on a suitcase and went crashing to the floor. He heard a muffled giggle, turning he saw Lizzie standing at the small sink brushing her teeth.
“What’s going on?” he asked rubbing his foot. With a mouth full of toothpaste, Lizzie said
“Don’t know, I’ll go and check”. With that she spat the froth of mint and lemon toothpaste into the sink, wiped her mouth and headed for the door, stepping over Paul on the way. Before she could reach it Matt came through in a bit of a fluster.
“Someone’s been killed” he said staring at the others. They both recoiled in horror.
“That’s not the worst of it, I’ve just seen that horrible woman from the museum.” he continued enthusiastically. Lizzie and Paul looked at each other confused; at almost the same moment realisation hit them. “The power suit bitch?” Lizzie said angrily. Matt nodded.
“I don’t like it, something weird is going on” Paul interjected.
“I agree” Lizzie said in a firm tone, “You two stay here I’ll go and see what’s happening” she said authoritatively. They both began to remonstrate but with a look so intent and stern she stopped them both. So the two men sat impatiently in the cabin while Lizzie went to find out any information she could.

She was only walking for a few seconds when she came across a small group of people standing at the door of a cabin staring in with gormless looks of horror. She quickly scanned the “one, two, three …” she began to count them. There were fourteen intotal, but she couldn’t see the power suit women amongst them.
Lizzie didn’t have to look through the door to know what she would find. She wasn’t sure whether it was instinct or just because of what they had been through over the past few days, but she was sure she would find a body.
Determined to find the power suit she jostled her way through the crowd so she could continue searching. As she passed the door her eyes inadvertently scanned the cabin. As she had expected there was the lifeless body of a women sprawled on the dirty and stained carpet. Something caught in her gaze which made her stop in her tracks. She turned to face the corpse horror struck. Creeping forward, she actually said out loud “No! It can’t be”. A kindly old lady standing next to her placed a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder and with a sigh said “was she a friend of yours dear?”
Lizzie didn’t hear a word. She bent down to the dead body and without touching it examined the rope that had obviously killed her. She had seen it before; in fact she had held it in her hand. She was positive the rope that had killed the women was the same rope Paul had used on his suitcase.
She stood sharply, her mind was in chaos, a million fears and questions battled each other for a place at the front of her conscious thought. “Did Paul kill her? Could Paul kill her? How well do I really know these men? Could it have been Matt?” The last question was ripped from her mind “It couldn’t have been Matt, I know it” she reassured herself. She was going to have to speak to Matt and confide her suspicions to him, but how to get him on his own?

She arrived back at the cabin but paused facing the closed door. Hesitating she lifted her trembling fingers to the handle and opened it. Like Meercats on the look out for predators, both Matt and Paul whipped their heads round to watch Lizzie come through the door.
She still wasn’t sure what or how she would explain. Before she had a chance to open her mouth, Matt had seen she was visibly distressed and taken the initiative.
“Are you ready to go and get that drink?” he said hoping Paul wouldn’t attack her with questions. It was a futile hope; the second the words came out of his mouth Paul began his bombardment.
“Well?” he said excitedly. Lizzie looked at him; she really looked hard and deep into his eyes. Could this man, the man, though quite annoying she had come to like and care about after just a few weeks? She didn’t know.
She was immensely relieved when Matt stepped forward took her arm and led her out of the door. Although the comment he made to Paul as they left the room still annoyed her. She was surprised that even in her current state of mind she felt angry at Matt for insinuating that he was taking her out of the cabin to try it on with her.
“At least Paul bought it” she thought as she saw him slump into one of the chairs, clearly disgruntled.
The door of the cabin shut and Lizzie expected an apology from Matt for the comment he just made, but no word left his mouth for three minutes. When he did finally speak, his words shocked any anger out of her.
“I know what you’re going to say” he said looking at her solemnly.
She looked at him open mouthed, “You do?” she asked inquiringly.
“Yeah you’ve seen something that makes you think Paul killed that person in the other car” he said with a cold certainty.
“The rope he was using on his suitcase was the murder weapon!” she blurted out.
Matt didn’t say anything, Lizzie watched him mull things over, then shaking his head he said “Paul has a problem, but he is not a killer”
Matt then described in as much detail as he could remember, the memory of Paul standing over the body of the man who killed Becki and of what he had said in the room just before he fell.
“I think we are on the trail of something big, something people don’t want us to know about” he said, his eyes wandering the corridor in which they had stopped, looking for conformation anywhere he could find it.
Finally his eyes got snagged in Lizzie’s intense gaze.
“I believe in this man, and I think he has been set-up” he said with such conviction that Lizzie almost believed him there and then.
She wanted to believe him but she was a stubborn person and had to decide for herself.
“I just don’t know” she said apologetically “I need to think on it, I’m going for a walk” she continued.
“I’m sorry for what I said to Paul, I didn’t mean anything by it” he said with a half smile. She couldn’t help but smile back. This man was like an infection, he was getting under her skin and into her system, and she liked it. In fact she was pretty sure she was beginning to love it.
Turning away from him, she began to stroll down the passage way. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t initially hear Matt call her name. On the third time she turned and looked at him.


Chapter 28

Just as he had expected, Paul was impatiently pacing the cabin waiting for his return, and some much needed answers.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?” he screamed at Matt as he came through the door. It took him a little by surprise as he wasn’t planning on shouting at Matt, but his frustrations had begun to build and escaped his control.
But Matt didn’t have a chance to answer; there was a loud hard thump at the door. Cautiously opening it Matt, came face-to-face with three men. Two burly looking police officers were flanking the shorter man in front. Matt had to stifle a smile when he saw the shorter man. It dawned on him that the more ridiculous the situation was becoming the more he found himself wanting to laugh or smile at the most inappropriate moments. “Hem hmm” the man in front of him cleared his throat and Matt's focus came back.
“Yes” Matt said curtly, instinctively knowing these were not men he would like.
The short man spoke and yet again Matt had to stifle a laugh. Either this man was here on a practical joke or he had based his entire life and style on David Suchets portrayal of Agatha Christie’s character Poirot. He had everything, the sharp suit, bowler hat and cane. The only difference was that he spoke with a high pitched Yorkshire accent and his moustache made him look more like Hitler than his idol.
“I wish to speak to Paul Vaughn” he squeaked with what he clearly thought was an authoritative tone.
Matt was highly amused and not the slightest bit intimidated, “Who are you?” he said using every ounce of self-restraint preventing himself from laughing.
“I am Chief Investigator Lawford, with E.L.f” he said begrudgingly. That was it; Matt had to turn away because he couldn’t prevent it any longer. Both hands clapped over his face as he attempted but failed to hide a laugh. Regaining full control, he turned back to the door but the three men had already entered. He wasn’t laughing now. Now he was angry.
He turned back to see them confront Paul, without giving any warning the two larger men grabbed hold of Paul with both arms while the love child of Poirot and Hitler began to read him his rights.
“I am arresting you under the anti-crime legislation of the European Unions and in the name of the European Law Force” he said with what sounded like pleasure.
Paul was in shock, but Matt was furious. He lunged forward attempting to free Paul from his captors. But the smaller man was surprisingly quick. As Matt went forward the E.L.F officer reached out his arm and with what seemed like a pathetic little tap on the base of Matt's neck knocked him unconscious. Matt was out before he hit the floor.

*

Oblivious to what was happening back in the cabin, Lizzie was standing in the small area between two train cars. She was leaning out of the window taking in the scenery hoping the gusting wind would be the key to clear her mind.
All her life she had been in control, she knew exactly what she wanted and usually just went for it. Past boyfriends had been great and, at the time, a lot of fun. Ultimately though, she got bored, they had all fulfilled her needs in every department. Thinking of this she smiled as she remembered one guy who had fulfilled one need fantastically.
But Matt was different; he made her feel weak yet powerful. Her head was cloudy and she found her self not thinking straight when she was with him.
To begin with, she hoped that it was all just the way a person feels when they begin to fall in love, but the longer she had spent with him the deeper she felt the connection went. It was for this reason she was having trouble taking his word on Paul's innocence. It’s not like she thought he was lying, she felt sure Matt believed he was innocent. But could she believe him, especially as he seemed to cloud her judgment?
She sighed in frustration, as she brought her head inside and shut the window.
Then the train juddered and screeched like a cat in a blender. Then the train seemed to shift under her feet, knocking her off balance. For the briefest moment she looked like a drunk Hula dancer until the train lurched again and she fell to the floor.
She was still sat on the floor when four men entered the small space she was sitting in.
“Paul? What’s going on?” she asked when she realised what was happening.
She saw that Paul looked genuinely confused and a little scared. “I’ve been arrested” he said in disbelief.
Lizzie couldn’t answer; she didn’t know what to say. What could she say? “I had a feeling you would, yeah I think you are a murderer” all these thoughts screamed through her mind but none made it through her lips. Her head felt like someone was in there with an electric whisk. She had her own questions and fears and when she saw the look of fear in Paul’s eyes she felt her brain may just explode. But then clarity hit like a bullet. She looked at Paul and his eyes pleading for answers. She then looked across at the small moustached man in the bowler hat. It was hidden under the left lapel of his jacket, a small symbol, blue in colour and a merging of three of the most recognisable religious symbols in the world.
Fear now raced across her mind and she was pretty sure it showed on her face. She now had no doubt about Paul’s innocence, but she did fear for both their lives.
She couldn’t think, she didn’t dare move, but she had to. Slowly standing-up she watched them drag Paul off of the train. As soon as they were far enough away, she turned and ran back to the cabin as fast as she could. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
Outside, Lawford was on the phone. “She recognised something” he said to the person on the other end of the line, “she has to be dealt with” he answered to the unknown voice. Nodding as the person on the other end issued orders; he beckoned to one of his companions and said “You know what to do”.

Lizzie flew down the corridor and burst into the cabin, where she found Matt lying in a heap. She tried frantically to wake him but failed. She was beginning to get annoyed with him, “We are loosing time! Wake up you Muppet” she screamed as she violently shook him. It was no good, after five minutes she still couldn’t wake him, so she hastily wrote a note and went after Paul.
She almost ran back along the train to where Paul had gotten off, but she still didn’t have a clue what she was going to do. Suddenly the train began to lurch forward, she could feel the engine begin to build up steam and knew she was out of time.
By the time she had reached the exit, the train had begun to move. She looked down at the five foot drop that faced her. The ground already began to sweep past her, making the drop look far bigger than it actually was. She took a breath and jumped.


Chapter 29

Matt rubbed the back of his neck as he struggled to his feet. He looked out of the window of the cabin and saw that the train was moving, “This can’t be good” he sighed. It was pure chance that he noticed the note Lizzie had left. He had picked up his jacket and was heading for the door when he saw it sitting expectantly on the bed. He read it four times, not wanting to accept the connotations of the words. He was now beginning to get scared. He raced out of the door and flew up the corridor towards the exit. He only got a few yards when he collided with a conductor.
At first he was furious, but his rational mind regained control and he asked “My friend has been arrested, do you know where he would have been taken?”
The conductor looked at him suspiciously, but after a couple of seconds of consideration he nodded and said with a strong French accent “Yes the nearest town is on the border with Austria, I think they would have been there.”
“How long until we get there?” he asked impatiently.
“We have to go round the mountain, so an hour, but by road they would be able to walk in ten minutes” replied the conductor as he watched a person come out of their cabin.
Matt was beside himself, there was no way he could get off, the train was going too fast. He went back to the cabin and packed up their stuff. Thankfully this took most of the hour and by the time the train pulled into the station he was waiting at the door ready to leave.


Chapter 30

Lizzie hit the floor and rolled down the embankment. She miraculously got up and brushed herself off without even a graze.
She waited for the train to fly past then she crossed the tracks and headed in a direction she hoped the car had gone.
After only a few minutes she reached the brow of a small hill and saw a town in the distance. Increasing her speed she headed towards it.
“Thank God!” she declared as she approached the town. She saw one of the men that had arrested Paul come out of a small building get into his car and drive away.
When she got closer she realised that he had just come out of the local police station. She peered in through the window and saw exactly what she wanted to see. She saw Paul nervously pace up and down a small stone cell. But more importantly she saw the desk clerk and knew her plan would work.
Lizzie was a modest person, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew she was attractive, and kept her body in a good shape. She was counting on that fact as she undid the buttons of her shirt revealing a slightly grey lace bra. She wished she had put on one of her nicer bras but hoped that this one would do. She tied the two ends of her shirt in a knot and headed in.
The clerk was a largish sweaty man possibly in his early thirties. He had the look of a guy who still lived at home and had never been with a woman.
This was a huge assumption on Lizzie’s part, and she knew this. She was going on what she had seen in movies; how the hot girl flashes a bit of flesh to get the information she wants. Outside it seemed like the best of a bad bunch of ideas but the closer she got to the desk the more she began to think this was stupid.
The clerk noticed her and smiled, Lizzie genuinely smiled back, more out of relief than anything. She decided she wasn’t going to push her luck so asked just one question in her best German accent, hoping he would understand her. “How long will my friend be held here?” she asked hopefully.
“Until tomorrow morning” he replied to her breasts.
Lizzie sighed with relief turned and left “Danker” she called as she went through the door.
Outside she walked towards the station, hoping Matt had found her note. It was a few minutes before she remembered that her chest was still on show. She began to button up her shirt but a voice from behind stopped her.
“Don’t bother” came the accent-less voice. Lizzie wasn’t even sure if it was male or female.
She turned slowly towards the sound. It was coming from an alley which Lizzie noticed was ridiculously dark for such a bright day.
Something glistened in the gloom, the barrel of a gun, it was unmistakable. Wordlessly the gun beckoned Lizzie towards it, as she walked into the gloom, every step intensifying her terror, the voice came again, “Strip” it said with a gleeful menace.


Chapter 31

The train was still moving when Matt vaulted from the door. The motion of the train, combined with the numerous bags he was holding, threw him off balance as he landed, causing him to stagger. Despite the luggage and the fact that his left ankle now hurt, he ran from the station and headed into the centre of the small town.
Leaving the station he came out onto what appeared to be the main commercial street for the town. Although, as he looked round for the police station and even with his mind racing a million miles a second, he decided that this place was too small for a town, it wasn’t much bigger than the village in which his parents lived back home.

*
Hunt had been ordered to stay with Preston. He swore loudly as he saw the speed with which Matt had left the train. He was good at his job the official one and the unofficial one, but he was not a man of action. He waited for the train to completely stop before he stepped down on to the platform.
“Merde!” he had lost sight of his target already.
Ignoring all of his training, he broke into a run.
Fortunately, found Matt not far from the main entrance of the station.
“The boy looks lost” he thought as he regained his composure and fell back to shadow distance.

*

After he left the station, he headed left up the main street. He was getting curious looks from the local residents and shopkeepers. Two men in particular caught his attention. He was sure they had followed him from the station, they were about two hundred yards back on the other side of the road. Matt wasn’t entirely sure they were following him but with everything that was happening, he wasn’t going to take any chances. Walking as nonchalantly as possible, he continued up the road, pausing at various shops along the way. It appeared that despite the looks he was getting, this small village was used to tourists stopping off for a browse. Every other shop he passed was a typical tacky gift shop you would expect to find wherever Brits and Yanks appeared. Sure enough he bumped into a small group of tourists heading his way. There were five American women, all chatting happily enjoying the scenery and shopping, their voices breaking the peaceful silence of the surroundings.
Matt decided this was his opportunity to find out if the two men were actually following him.
“Excuse me” he interrupted as he stopped the women.
“I’m sorry to bother you but I don’t suppose you know where the police station is, I think someone has stolen my wallet” he explained looking as forlorn as possible.
For a couple of seconds none of them said anything, but then a portly woman with an oversized straw hat exclaimed, “My God! And they say the crime rate in the states is bad. We are on our way there now; Anna-Beth has had her purse stolen as well”
Before Matt had a chance to react, the woman grabbed him by the arm turned him 180 degrees and, along with the other four, almost frog-marched him back down the street. “Come with us my boy, we know how you Brits are no good at complaining so we are gonna help you get back your property” said the women who was apparently called Sue.
So, Matt marched down the street back towards the train station with his five American bodyguards not taking in a word they were saying as he desperately, but subtly, tried to see if he was still being followed. He finally caught sight of the two men and his heart sank. It was clear now that they were following him. He managed to make eye contact with one of them causing the man to swiftly turn and walk in the opposite direction.

*
He followed Matt for a short while and couldn’t help but smile when he saw him struggle to find his bearings. Hunt spotted one of his own men a short distance up the street and signalled him to join the surveillance. This, it turned out was a mistake. Matt spotted them, they had blown their chance. He needed new orders.

*

It turned out that the police station was a right turn coming out of the train station and only a thirty second walk. He saw the police station sign looming ever closer. He started to try and figure out how he was going to ditch his entourage when he saw Paul stagger out of the station. This brought his mind back into focus which also made him notice the three police officers standing at the mouth of an alleyway. Matt put two and two together and realised that Paul hadn’t come from the station, he had just come out of the alleyway. This wasn’t good, something was wrong. Forgetting about the luggage and the five stunned women, he sprinted the last few yards to Paul.
“What’s wrong?” he almost screamed.
Paul turned to face Matt and said “Oh good you’re here” in a tone so spaced-out that in any other situation Matt would have guessed that he may have been high.
“What happened?” he repeated but with a lot more panic in his voice. Subconsciously he began to form ideas but his conscious self refused to believe them.
“It’s gone, it’s not there” Paul said loosing his focus again.
“What’s gone?” Matt replied despairingly. Then, with a frighteningly sharp turn, Paul stared directly into Matt's eyes and said “Her head!” Looking deep into the abyss that’s was now Paul’s face, Matt knew he wasn’t lying.
He almost threw Paul to the floor as he turned and sprinted to the taped off area.
The policemen must have seen them talking because they didn’t even attempt to stop him. He ducked under the tape without loosing momentum and headed into the surprising darkness of the alley.
He was there, the policeman from the train; Lawford was stood over the covered body.
“It’s ok let him through” he squealed in that horrible whine of a voice.
“I'm so sorry” he said, but Matt could hear the lie in his voice. All he cared about was Lizzie. He knelt down by her, he placed one hand on the floor to steady himself and with the other he clutched the white plastic sheet that covered her. He took a second to catch his breath then lifted.
The vomit had gotten half way up his throat before he had taken it all in. It was Lizzie, or at least, he thought it was her. His brain was analysing the scene, trying to come up with an answer, but his heart already knew the truth. “It’s her you moron” screamed his subconscious, as though trying to get his heart to listen.
A cacophony of questions rocketed through his brain as he staggered out of the alleyway, back into what felt like blinding sunlight. He was in a daze, his mind had questions but he couldn’t access them. He saw Paul walk towards him but still couldn’t understand.
“How, when, why?” was all that Paul could manage to say.
“Yep, I agree” Matt said in reply. The two of them collapsed onto the curb, sitting, starring into nothing.
Matt was still away with the fairies when he realised Paul had gotten up and was shouting.
“HEY! Where are you taking her?” he was running to the ambulance as Lizzie’s body was being loaded into the back. Matt started to get up, noticing that the ambulance was the only vehicle left. Only five minutes earlier there had been at least five other people and two cars. Even the five American women had gone.
Paul reached the ambulance just as the driver started to shut the door.
Paul grabbed it preventing it from being shut and asked “Where are you taking her? We need to come” but no reply came. Instead, Paul received a sharp kick to the head. AS he fell backward the driver grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it shut. Not before Paul saw that the ring on his finger sported the same symbol as he had found on the small metal disc.
The ambulance sped away, spraying loose gravel as it left.
“Where the hell are they going?” Matt asked.
Paul turned away from him and said “It’s them, they’re here.”
“Who, who were they?” Matt asked, worried.
Swiftly turning Paul clamped two hands on Matt's shoulders and exclaimed “THEY! They are the bastards who killed Becki!”


Chapter 32

Matt's brain was still in neutral, he was looking directly at Paul but not a single word was penetrating his grief. To his credit Paul noticed this and after taking a breath to steady himself, grabbed Matt by the shoulders and shook, hard.
He could almost see his head clearing as the focus came back in his eyes. “Listen!” he shouted in his calmest voice possible, “Those men weren’t paramedics, do you remember the disc I found the night I saved that girl?” asked Paul desperately. Matt slowly nodded as his memory kicked in.
“You remember that we looked it up, the psycho in Cardiff, your dream?” he continued with relief as he finally saw Matt shift into drive. “Yes of course I do” he said fully back with it.
“Well those two men that took Lizzie’s body, one of them was wearing a ring with that same symbol” he said exasperated. It was as though that final piece of information was all that Matt needed to finally kick start his engine. Without saying a word he turned and flew back towards the police station. “Uh-oh!” Paul thought as he saw the deep scarlet colour of Matt's skin and sped after him.

Matt cannoned through the door grabbing the nearest police officer, and with unbelievable power actually lifted him off the ground and threw him against the wall. “WHERE IS SHE?” he bellowed. The police officer who looked like he had only been in the uniform a week was terrified. He shook his head vigorously. Paul wasn’t sure if this meant he didn’t know or didn’t understand but Matt didn’t care. He shook him again repeating the question in a lower more menacing tone, this took Paul by surprise, although he had only known the man a few weeks he never got any impression he had a violent streak.
“She will be taken to Paris” came a now familiar whine from the door of the station. Paul turned and saw the unimposing figure of Lawford. Dropping the policeman Matt turned with a snarl, and what Paul saw, or at least thought he saw, frightened him a little.
As Matt turned to face Lawford, Paul saw such fury and power in his eyes that his usually pale green eyes now blazed with a deep emerald green. What worried him even more than that was Lawford’s reaction, he actually stepped back in fear. It was only a fleeting movement but Paul registered it, “I knew there was something wrong” he thought as he reached forward to prevent Matt from attacking the short, fat intruder. He wasn’t really sure Matt was actually going to attack but better safe than sorry.
Now completely calm and in his usual tone of disgust and amusement, Lawford repeated his words adding “The body will be taken to Paris for the autopsy, you can view the corpse. Go to this address to make arrangements” he thrust out a squat hand towards the two men. Paul saw that Matt had no intention of taking his stare away from the face of the Poirot wanna-be so he stepped forward and took the card. With the task complete, the detective turned and left them standing in silence in the cold stone building.
As gently as possible Paul led Matt back out into the world, and with a touch of guilt realised he was a little angry at Matt for his reaction. He was upset over the loss of Lizzie just as much as Matt was so what gave him the right to be to furious? Then it occurred to him that maybe his emotional well was dry. Maybe after everything that had happened to him he just didn’t care anymore. This thought worried him, if he didn’t care what was he doing?
As if reading his mind Matt asked “How long after you met Becki did you realise you were in love?” he wasn’t looking at Paul when he said this, nonetheless Paul knew why he was asking.
“Why? How long was it before you knew you were in love with Lizzie?” he replied inquisitively. Matt turned to look at Paul and in that instant saw him for the man he could be and not the one he and a combination of personal catastrophes had let him become. “I’m pretty sure it was when she stepped out of her car and fell into my arms” he said dreamily. Paul looked at him nodding. “How long have you known about my feelings?” Matt asked, still not looking at Paul. “About a minute and a half” he replied trying to muster a smile but failing miserably. “You never answered my question?” Matt said getting to his feet. He turned back to Paul holding out his hand to help him up. He raised his eyebrows as if to say “Well come on I shared with you”.
Paul thought for a minute, any memory of Becki was still hard to bear.
“It must have been when she first backed into the kitchenette at work and knocked my coffee over.” he said with a smile, this one was genuine.
Not knowing exactly what to do, but knowing they needed to go back to Paris to make arrangements for Lizzie, they headed back to the station.

The platform was empty as they stepped out of the ticket office out into the now cold evening air. The train to Paris was due in ten minutes, so they both sat silently on a faded green bench.
“They are always green” Matt thought as he collapsed on to the wooden planks. He was exhausted, mentally and physically and wanted only to sleep. Paul was completely opposite, his mind was racing. Thoughts tore across his mind like an out of control racing driver.
“Why was I really arrested? What was Lizzie doing there? Why was Lawford there?” so many questions but no answers. Paul shut his eyes to try and focus his thoughts but when he did all he could see was that symbol, that damn symbol represented everything that had gone wrong in his life. He was more and more beginning to think this was his fault, it was all tied to him somehow. Then another thought struck him, “If Matt realises this he is going to…?” after what he saw in the police station he wasn’t sure what Matt would do to him. Right then Paul decided when they got back to Paris he was going to sort this mess out, he hoped!


Chapter 33

The journey into France was uneventful. Matt, clearly exhausted, had collapsed into a restless sleep while Paul starred out of his window at the rushing countryside. He thought of all his favourite movies and how in a scene like this the weather would either match the mood or mock the grief of the moment with beautiful sunshine. He looked up at the sky and couldn’t help but let out a stifled laugh, the weather in his movie was nothing. The clouds loomed over head but were neither low enough nor grey enough to carry any rain and the numerous blue holes in the ceiling of the world told him it wasn’t likely to for a long time.
The train was due into Paris around 9:15pm; Paul looked at his watch and saw he still had a little over an hour. With this in mind he decided to try and close his eyes and sleep. After only a few minutes he realised it wasn’t going to happen. Every time his eye lids touched, a barrage of images and questions exploded across his vision, all unanswered questions, and all parts of the ever increasing puzzle. The only constant was the idea that it was all his fault; he was to blame for all the death and mayhem. This terrified him, in only a few weeks the man sitting in front of him had become the most important person in his life, he was like the protective big brother he never had and the idea of loosing his friendship scared him more than the feeling in his gut that things were about to get a lot worse a lot quicker.
The next hour felt like the longest of his life, and then with a small internal smile he remembered thinking that to himself frequently around the time Becki had died. This time he decided that it was quite possibly the stupidest phrase he had ever heard. His eyes just started to feel heavy and close when Matt jumped from his chair and shouted “NO I DON’T WANT TO!” Paul barely moved, it was obvious he was dreaming. Matt took a couple of seconds and came to the same conclusion and sat back down looking sheepishly at the old women who had a disapproving look in her eyes that to Matt's mind looked like it was a permanent feature of her small prunish face.
As the train came to a stop in the centre of Paris, the platforms of the Gare Saint Lazare were bustling with people but the two men were oblivious to the world as they picked up their bags and headed for the exit. As they struggled up the aisle, Paul realised that Matt was still carrying Lizzie’s bag. He decided now wasn’t the time to discuss it, he would let him grieve a little longer.

Back in the Police station they had left only a few hours ago, The Power suit, Lawford and the purple woman were standing patiently waiting for the arrival of Joshua. Lawford stood in front with the two women flanking him on each side staring nervously at the door. They were stood like the promotional picture of a new TV show for about ten minutes when he finally arrived. His usual calm manner had left him as soon as he had gotten out of his car; he hated Northern Europe and everything it had to offer. Most of the countries were cold, most of the people were rude and he could never find a decent iced tea. Stepping through the door he was pleased to see that the three incompetent imbeciles looked nervous and ashamed, he knew he could use this to his advantage and not have to raise his voice. Joshua hated to shout, he felt it was a vulgar way to discipline.
He didn’t say anything, he knew the longer the silence lasted, the worse they would feel.
“We have taken care of the girl” blurted Lawford, not able to contain himself any longer. The other two attempted to distance themselves from the squat little man with covert glances at each other. “Well that’s some progress at least” replied Joshua with obvious contempt in his tone. Again he just stared not saying a word, he knew what would come next. Lawford was good at his job but he was useless under pressure. “Well we can’t stand around here all day” he said in the most authoritative voice he could muster. He glanced either side at the two women, both of whom looked ready to kill him.
Joshua watched them drive away, half amused, half angry he stepped into the open car door his driver was holding for him and getting comfortable in the back seat he began to prepare himself for the six hour drive and the report he would have to make to his superior.


Chapter 34
Matt and Paul had spent three days not saying much to anyone. They had booked a double room in a small B&B just outside the main centre of Paris.
As the morning of the fourth day arrived, Paul was sat a sleep in a chair by the window with the TV remote in his hand and French morning television quietly telling the silent room how to make your old summer dress look like new. Paul’s left eye twitched a little as a small spider ran across the purple area of his cheek. A silent Matt watched the arachnid’s adventure with a dead guilt swimming through his chest. The night before, Matt had been asleep having a terrible nightmare. It was the scene of Becki’s death again only this time when he looked down at the body it was Lizzie’s face looking up at him. He bent down and enveloped her lifeless form, trying desperately to squeeze life back in but couldn’t. It was then that the three figures would come and try and take her from him. He knew one of them, it was the moron from the train, Matt couldn’t remember the name but knew that it was important, he needed to remember. The other was a complete stranger, someone he had never seen before, but the third, he thought he recognised, there was something very familiar. In his dream Matt would desperately try to fight them off but failed. It was because of this that Paul had tried to wake him up, but for all his effort all he got was a smack in the face from one of Matt’s flailing arms. The next morning, Paul tried to laugh it off, but with everything that had happened Matt was having none of it.
It wasn’t sorrow or regret that drove Matt to drink; it was boredom that made the two men attack the mini bar. After nearly a week of sitting in the same room they had had enough. The alcohol worked for a short while, with both men risking a laugh or two. But supplies soon ran low which with his inebriated condition caused Paul to shed a couple of tears.
“I’ll go get more” hiccupped Matt as he staggered to his feet. Paul nodded in agreement and headed off to the bathroom to empty the considerable amount of alcohol that had backed up in his bladder. Matt left Paul to his urination, fumbling the door handle as he headed out on his quest.
Outside it was just getting dark, this confused Matt a little, as he didn’t think it was very late. After looking at his watch and then the sky, then back to his watch again, he decided that it wasn’t late it was just a storm coming.
It was after a couple of minutes heading down a random street he realised he had no idea where he was going.
“Did they have off-licences in France?” they must have he decided, and with that headed off with a renewed confidence.
The lightning came before the rain, but Matt didn’t notice, he was now so focused on finding more beers that nothing else existed, not even his grief. It was only on the first clap of thunder that retrieved his mind from its hiding place, back into the world. He looked up at the sky and it hit. The sky lit up with a ghostly green light. He was rooted to the spot, “it couldn’t be, could it?” his head was swimming with ideas; the fact he was drunk made grabbing hold of one of them very difficult. “Lightning!” he muttered to himself then as quick as a whippet he ran. The warm rain combined with the mass adrenaline surge helped clear his head, so by the time he reached the morgue he was reasonably sober, although not quite sober enough to get through the door on his first attempt.

Paul lost all track of time and space as he lay on the bed his swimming head flopping over the end. After a while he started to wonder about Matt but made no attempt to move as he was sure he would vomit if he tried. As time wore on he decided he would have to risk movement and get up to get his own beers, Matt was taking too long.
On shaky legs he left the hotel room trying to give off as sober an appearance as he could. After pressing the wrong button on the elevator and ending up on the top most floor, he finally made it down to the lobby and to the front entrance but stopped just short of leaving. The rain was so heavy he could not see the other side of the street. “Screw this” he thought to himself, turning back towards the bar.

As Paul sat at the hotel bar ordering another drink and slightly annoyed with Matt for ditching him, Matt was standing in a dark damp ally way beside a morgue, desperately trying to sober himself up.
The rain was so hard now that it had caused the guttering to overflow and pour down like a slightly dirty waterfall. Matt didn’t care, he was at maximum drench factor so decided to stick his head under the mini torrent of gutter water, being careful not to open his mouth.
After ten seconds or so he decided that this was as clear as he was going to get. Trying to make himself a little presentable he headed back towards the main entrance of the morgue.
There was a tall well-built man sitting perfectly still and perfectly upright behind a large mahogany desk. Matt had never been in a morgue before but the extravagant desk seemed wildly out of place. The man behind the desk began to speak thick rapid French, but upon realising Matt was English he let out a self assured snort and began to talk in broken English. “How can I help you?” said the receptionist. Matt looked briefly at the name tag clinging to his breast, steadied himself and trying to portray as much emotion as possible replied “Please, Francois I need to see her one last time, I need to see my Lizzie!”
It appeared that this was a common occurrence for the young Frenchman because he instantly turned to his computer and opened a file that appeared to have a list of names. “What is her full nom?” he asked with obvious fake sympathy in his voice. “Elizabeth Whyte” stuttered Matt. The man began to type, then waited for a search engine to do its work. After a couple of seconds the appropriate file flashed onto the screen, and Matt saw what appeared to be genuine horror flash across his face. Hesitating, the French man turned to Matt and said “You are sure you wish to see her? You know how she died?”
“It doesn’t matter, I don’t care I just need to see her please” he tried with all the conscious thought he could muster to pour every emotion into his gaze.
It worked, the man nodded his head and beckoned Matthew to follow him. They walked down a long corridor that wouldn’t have been out of place in a hospital, same flooring, paint it even had the same smell, which made Matt wonder just how many dead people you walk past when you visit a hospital.
At the end of the corridor they reached a door which had the word “Meurtre” written across the middle in a bold black font.
Before Francois could open the door he was called from behind. An older man in a dark grey suit was walking towards them. Francois turned to Matt and quickly said “excusez-moi un moment” before hurrying back down toward the man that must be his boss, Matt thought.
He wasn’t going to wait, he had a strong feeling that if he did he would be denied entry, so he waited until the two men were talking and slipped inside.
It was very bright, that was his first reaction, not the many silver draws full of dead people, his first thought was that it was bright. “Stop it” he said out loud and physically shook his head as though that would clear his mind.
That done he swiftly began to look at the names on the draws. Whether by luck or some weird psychic thing, the first draw he looked at had the name “Whyte. E” typed onto a small card. It was strange, in some movies Matt had seen the protagonist would stare at the name for dramatic effect, to fill the moment with emotion, but Matt knew his movie was rapidly becoming devoid of feeling. The second he saw the name he pulled open the door, slid out the tray and then he stopped.
The ghostly white outline of her body laid in front of him, he stopped with his hand on the sheet about to pull it off but thought better of it. He didn’t want to see the wound on her neck, and besides the thing he needed to see was lower down her body so he grabbed the other end and lifted.
It wasn’t there, the lightning bolt wasn’t there, this wasn’t Lizzie, she was alive somewhere. He was confused, he wasn’t sure if he was exactly happy or if he was maddeningly furious. Still slightly confused he returned the body of the poor girl who had replaced Lizzie and headed to the door. The two men were still talking outside, maybe they wouldn’t have noticed he had been in the room. But at that moment his heart pounded to a halt. The voice of the young man had stopped because he had just told his boss who Matt had been to see and with a furious exclamation the older man began to sprint down towards where Matt was stood frozen, clutching the door handle.
There was no conscious thought going through his mind, it again seemed to be a subconscious decision that forced him into action, something that seemed to be happening allot. He threw himself down against the wall, clutched his knees to his face and pretended to cry.
The door exploded open and in rushed the dark suited man. He scanned the draws then the room looking for Matt. When he saw the man sitting curled up and crying, he seemed to calm. Matt looked up trying to hide the fact there were no tears in his eyes. “I wanted to see her, but I just couldn’t do it” he sobbed through dry eyes. Then something really shocked Matt. The man spoke to him with an American accent. “I know, it’s hard when you lose someone, especially in such an horrific way” he replied in with a soft Texan tone. He slowly walked towards Matt still talking. “Did you open the draw?” he asked not able to hide the hint of menace in his voice. “No, I couldn’t do it” Matt said looking up at him. But an alarm went off in his mind as he looked into the eyes of the American. He knew he had been rumbled, this man didn’t believe him. Matt was terrified but desperately tried not to show it. The Texan reached out a sweaty wrinkled hand. With every single cell of his body working together to stop his own hand from shaking Matt reached out to take it. Their hands locked together, Matt’s fear turned quickly to fury. On the third finger of his right hand was a small silver ring. Matt began to squeeze the knuckles that were helping him to his feet.
“You bastards!” he screamed as he lunged towards the American. “You’re one of them, you are one of the pricks who have been messing with Paul’s life” A small emblem glistened on the ring, the same emblem that had been on so many of the photos and documents in Lizzie’s dad’s apartment. Matt didn’t know at the time but he was confronted by one of the high colonels of the Cult of the Chinju.
“You know nothing, do you have any idea of the importance of what we are trying to achieve? No I didn’t think so” he said not stopping to catch breath. The American had walked away towards the morgue draws. “Where is she?” Matt asked through gritted teeth.
“She is safe for now” smarmed the American, “we only need one of you alive, so there is no need to keep you here any longer” he said trying to sound threatening. But Matt had all ready seen it, the knife that he had pulled from his jacket. Matt caught site of it in the reflection on the silver doors and was already racing towards him before he turned.
He had never actually hit any one before so was unsure of what exactly he was going to do.
It was done before he quite realised what had happened. Matt had let fly with his fist straight into the back of the head of the Yank. Thankfully he was off his guard, the force of the punch had pushed his head forward colliding with the steel handle of the closest morgue draw.
He wasn’t dead, Matt made sure of that before he left the room. Then something disturbing occurred to him. The knife that now lay next to the unconscious body was already covered in blood, so it came as no surprise to him as he ran back up the corridor that the body of Francois the morgue receptionist lay sprawled in a pool of his own blood. “Sorry” muttered Matt as he raced past. Part of him thought he should stop and make sure he was dead, but the part in control decided that the only thing that was important now was to get back to Paul and tell him everything. What he didn’t know at the time was that Paul already knew exactly what had happened and, more importantly, knew where Lizzie was.

From the moment he gave up on his search for Matt until three hours later when he was asked politely to quietly return to his room by a slightly disgruntled and damp waiter, Paul didn’t stop drinking, which made him initially ignore his visions.
They started as he staggered into the lift and slumped against the back wall, not even attempting to push a button. Slowly lifting his head trying to keep the panel in focus he caught sight of the same waiter who had ushered him out of the bar. Even in Paul’s current state his drunken mind noticed a look of fear and excitement in his eyes, but couldn’t react before the doors closed and the vision hit.
They were just flashes, he couldn’t keep hold of anything, it was like his dream all over again. Matt flashed before him, then a covered body, a glint from a knife, a large smear of blood, then finally the entrance to the morgue and Matt bursting through the door. Paul knew that Matt was on his way back, and this comforted him, but he would have to sober up as quickly and as much as possible.
The doors to the elevator opened on Paul’s floor, he had no recollection of pressing any buttons but didn’t care by this point. Slowly stepping out into the swaying hall he edged towards the room. Four steps were as far as he got before he was sent crashing to the floor with a blinding pain behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure if the agonising scream was just in his head or if he was actually making any noise, again he didn’t care. His eyes burned, it felt like they were being dipped in battery acid. Through the pain he desperately tried to open them; when he finally managed to, something weird happened.
He was completely aware that he was still kneeling in the centre of a hotel hallway in the centre of Paris, but he was also somewhere else. The best way to describe it would be the subtle difference in the colour and clarity when you watch an English film and an American one. The surroundings had that oddly false feeling you get when you watch a poorly funded American movie.
He was apparently kneeling on a grass round-a-bout in the centre of a small seaside town. He was only about a hundred yards from the small harbour and could smell the cool fresh sea air. The place was dead, not a sound echoed and not a thing was moving. He slowly scanned the area. Behind him a road lined with shops tailed off around a right hand bend. To his left, another road ran straight down ending at a t-junction opposite a small supermarket. Nothing of interest, he knew the way that he needed to go was right. He scanned the road, following its winding path off into the distance when he finally saw his destination. Just off the coast there was a small island, it didn’t appear to have any buildings or structures of any kind as far as he could tell, but he knew in his deepest heart that was where Lizzie was, that’s where Matt has to go.
This realisation snapped him back into the real world and he once again found himself back in the hotel and only the hotel. How could he have been so arrogant, how could he have missed the point of everything? This was never about him, it was all about them.
He wasn’t upset about it, he didn’t feel any hate towards the two people that had, in a way, given his life meaning again. He was however, now filled with a renewed vengeance. Why did Becki have to die? Why couldn’t they have left her alone, she was an innocent?
Almost completely sober now, he was back on his feet storming back to his room to prepare for Matt's return.
He had barely begun to pack when there was a loud knock on the door.

*

He could not believe it had begun already, such an honour after being with them only two weeks. The waiter watched with wonder as Paul’s eyes went a deep shade of emerald as he slumped back against the wall of the elevator. Before the doors had closed he turned and sprinted out to report his news. Joshua wanted to be there for the awakening so he and two of his personal guards had set up in a small apartment only three buildings down.
Joshua was annoyed, he had just received word from the morgue. He was right not to underestimate the bond between the three so he had been prepared but unfortunately the plan had to change. Once the awakening had begun, he had intended to simply kill the boy but now they must leave him alive. The waiter banged on the door of the flat with excitement and nervousness. Joshua beckoned one of his guards to let him in. He felt a slight hint of sadness as he laid eyes on the young enthusiasm radiating from this poor boy’s face as he regaled them with his news. Joshua wasn’t listening he knew what this meant and needed no further assistance. He stepped from his chair and without a single glance at the waiter walked past and to the door. In the same motion he lifted two fingers of his left hand and flicked them like a smoker would with a cigarette in his hand. His two guards knew what the signal meant, so stepping forward, one of them held the waiter firmly by the shoulders while the other placed a large bronze crucifix, the end of which had been sharpened to a point, upside down on the chair Joshua had just vacated. There was no audible sound as the bottom of the crucifix entered the body of the waiter. He did not cry out nor did he struggle. When Joshua turned back to him he saw a look of mingled joy and surprise behind the glazed death in his eyes. “I am truly sorry” Joshua muttered with his head bowed “it is all for the greater triumph”

The short walk to the hotel was silent, he had issued his orders and his men knew what to do.
Within four minutes of leaving the apartment, they were standing outside the hotel room of the guide, it was finally falling into place.

Paul was so worked up and pulled so swiftly on the door it almost felt like paper. The three men waiting on the other side didn’t move or speak but he knew instantly he was in trouble. Joshua spoke softly.
“You may not know why we have come but you know you must follow”.
Paul nodded as if hypnotised and was about to follow when just as had happened to Matt in the morgue, he noticed the symbol of the Chinju on a medallion one of the silent men were wearing and Becki popped into his head for the first time in weeks. “You know you can’t leave without Matt, only both of you can succeed” she said in a soothing voice. Then there was a loud scream and cursing in French. Without realising it, he had slammed the heavy oak door shut with such force it had sliced off the little finger of one of the guards. He tried to think as fast as possible but struggled a little as he was still drunk. He had to leave a message for Matt, he had to let him know.
The next few moments were a blur, gunshots were fired at the lock on the door, splinters of oak rained over him as he dived for cover. The door flew open and the men came marauding in.


Chapter 35

Matt stood open mouthed at what remained of the door, he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to step through into the destruction of the room. Rationality forced his hand and he hesitantly stepped in. He really didn’t know which way to turn or what to look for. After standing in the middle of the mess he slumped on to the bed bemused. He knew he needed a plan but had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do. Sitting on the creaky hotel bed, Matt never felt more useless or so alone. He laid back on the bed, his eyes shut tight trying to stop the tear that was attempting to escape the clutches of his left eye. Opening his eyes very slowly he attempted to clear his mind and come up with some sort of plan. He had been staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before he noticed the eyes peeking over the edge of the upside down light shade on the ceiling.
He had to stand on his tip toes to reach the picture. Before his fingers closed in on the photo his heart skipped a beat in excitement. The eyes belonged to Becki; Paul wouldn’t have left this picture if it wasn’t a good reason. Matt turned the picture over and before he had finished reading the note on the back he was on the floor packing his bag.

She’s alive!

Cambletown, Scotland

Paul

Within two hours Matt was checked out of the hotel, across Paris and on the Eurostar headed back to England.


Chapter 36

Two hours for a journey of just over two hundred miles is quite a feat, and most of the passengers on the train were happily chattering away on the subject. Matt wasn’t one of them, he was so restless that the old couple who were sat behind him complained to one of the attendants.
He had devised his plan of action within the first hour of the journey. His first thought was in his opinion a selfish one, but he felt he had to do it. He would first make his way back up to Scarborough and back to his flat to pick up some fresh clothes and supplies and to have a couple of hours sleep in his own bed. It had been weeks since he left his editors office disgruntled and annoyed that he was being sent on a pointless story again. Matt couldn’t help but smile at that thought. He wondered if he would have left the office if he had known what was going to follow, with that his mind drifted back to Lizzie.

He didn’t allow himself to day dream for more than five seconds. Since the incident in the morgue he had become so alert, so paranoid that he was suspicious of everyone and everything.
The train eventually pulled into Liverpool street station, and before the train had even thought about stopping Matt was at the exit impatiently waiting to disembark. It seemed to take forever, “come on” he said out loud. The door would not open, something was wrong, his heart began to pound in his chest, what should he do? his mind was racing. “Excuse me, you need to push the button” said a voice from behind. With terror coursing through his body Matt whipped round to see who had spoken. Standing in front of him was a small frail old man who looked terrified. “I’m so sorry” Matt said attempting to calm himself down. He then turned back to the door, pushed the button and stepped off of the train.
Heading for the ticket booth he couldn’t help but smile to himself, he was getting ridiculously jumpy, he had to settle himself if he was going to get anywhere near Lizzie. He had only gotten about thirty feet from the train and had almost calmed down when he caught a glimpse of her. His first instinct was to stop and take a proper look but something inside him wouldn’t allow it. “Keep going!” he said to himself, his legs desperately trying to keep him walking forward. He got through the concourse, past the business men hovering round the newspaper stand in the front of the WH-Smith leading towards the exit. He hit the crowds coming off of many different trains and felt a little safer hiding in the large crowd of anonymous people.
His heart still pounding, he continued out towards the ticket machines. They came into sight, and once again the idea of his own bed edged back into his thoughts But as quickly as it had come it was gone again. He looked up into a metallic light fixture and this time he saw her for definite. Paul’s Purple woman was following him. Again he tried to restrain himself but fear took hold, “shit!” he said under his breath as he picked up his feet and ran for his life.

“I think he is waking up” came a voice from Paul didn’t know where. He felt like he had been hit across the back of the head. For a few moments his mind shut everything out and he actually thought he was waking up after a heavy night of drinking. That was until hands grabbed him by the shoulders and shook violently. Part of him didn’t want to open his eyes as he began to remember that he had actually been hit in the back of his skull. Slowly he lifted his left eye lid and with a start shuffled backwards as quickly as he could until he collided with the rear doors of a van. In front of him sat two hooded figures wearing blue robes. Neither one spoke, they just faced him laughing.
Eventually regaining some composure he noticed that the van was not only moving but it was moving at high speed on a winding road. He and his hooded companions were being buffeted about quite violently. One of them was thrown so hard that his partner removed his vigil of Paul to help him. It didn’t even occur to Paul to use this diversion to attempt an escape. He sat silently, clinging on as hard as possible resigning himself to his fate.
Paul had no idea of time or day so had no idea how long it was when he heard a ringing phone. The tone stopped and with surprising clarity he heard one half of the conversation.
“Yes?” said a voice he thought he recognised.
A few seconds past when he spoke again,
“That was a foolish mistake, but no Matter, you will have your chance again” Something deep inside Paul stirred and he knew what the conversation was about.
“We know where he is going, forget the flat I want you to keep an eye on the office, you can finish it there.”
The voice was full of malice but Paul thought he noticed a hint of something else. Was this man afraid of the person on the other end of the line?
“Keep me informed of your progress, let me know when it’s taken care of” and with that the conversation stopped.
Paul’s heart was pounding not only through fear for himself but because he knew Matt was in trouble as well.

*

Matt walked for at least two hours, no particular direction or final destination; he just wanted to make sure he had lost his stalker. When he finally felt comfortable with the idea that he was on his own, he decided he was safe to find a car rental place and head home.
After thirty minutes he began to get frustrated even though he was in the middle of London he was finding it difficult to find a place to rent. After one hour of fruitless searching he decided he would have to break one of the biggest male taboos and ask for directions. Five minutes after receiving directions from a slightly smug woman he was standing at the counter of Enterprise Car Rentals, signing an insurance form for a two year old Vauxhall Astra.
Thirty minutes more and he was slowly edging his way out of the centre of London. He drove one hand on the wheel and one hand on his mobile Attempting and failing miserably to make the payment of the congestion charge. He had been on the phone for 12 minutes swearing in to the empty car as he continued his attempt to pay the ridiculous tax when his temper finally fractured and he threw the phone down into the passenger foot-well. He immediately regretted it worried that he had broken the handset. After he satisfied himself that the phone still worked he forgot all about the charge and went back to concentrating on navigating his way out of the concrete jungle he was trapped in.

The car almost sighed in relief when Matt was finally able to put it into fifth gear and open the accelerator as he came out on to the M1. It was at least an eight hour journey back to his flat and he was determined to get back as soon as possible preferably without stopping. After two hours however, his bladder had other ideas.

That was the only stop he allowed himself, a five minute rest to empty his complaining bladder and then to refill it with a large sweet coffee. The problem with this was that by the time he pulled up outside his flat he was yet again desperate for the bathroom, so desperate in fact that when he burst through his all ready open door he barely registered the fact that his flat had been thoroughly trashed.
The flat was unrecognisable, but he kind of expected this to happen. All the movies he had seen made him think he had an understanding of the way these people worked or at least how Hollywood portrayed them. After a cursory look around he headed to his bedroom and saw what he was looking for. His bed was the first luxury he had bought when he first got his job as a fully qualified journalist. Back then he was full of ideas and hope but his editor rapidly burnt them from his dreams. He paused in the middle of the room mid thought. His editor, this man was as mean as Ebenezer Scrooge yet he had used his newspaper funded credit card and expense account for nearly three months yet he had heard no word from the man. Something wasn’t right, why hadn’t he contacted him, why was the money still there? “Damn it” he said out loud as he turned away from a few hours of blissful rest. Sometimes he hated having an journalistic mind, why couldn’t he just turn off sometimes. So after a quick shower and a change of clothes he was back in the Astra and heading for the regional offices of the worst and trashiest newspaper in the world.
It was only a twenty minute drive to the office but it was more than enough time for Matt to begin to question and worry about his life.

By the time he had pulled up into his parking space of the papers car park, he had worked himself up into such a frenzy he ignored three people who attempted to stop and say hi. He almost ran through the front doors, raced past the lifts, all thought of tiredness gone as he sprinted up the stairwell to the sixth floor.
The news room was open plan with the editors office on the far wall. Ten feet into the room and he caught sight of Samuel Jarrett sitting in his office talking on the phone.
Twenty feet in and Samuel Jarrett saw Matt, fear flickered across his face. But by the time Matt had reached the office Samuel was standing at the open door with a smile on his lips, it didn’t fool Matt, his emotions had all ready betrayed him.
“Matt” Samuel called out in a slightly wavering voice, “Samuel” Matt replied in a jovial tone as he lifted his right arm and with out breaking stride punched him in the for-head. It was enough to knock him over but still hurt like hell. The glass door slammed behind him almost shattering.
“Listen to me Matt” he pleaded not even attempting to hide his betrayal.
“I will tell you everything, I promise, I didn’t know this would happen” he said pleadingly.
Matt's blood was boiling but he stopped ready to let the man talk.
“Not here we aren’t safe” Samuel whispered as he got to his feet. He led Matt out through the news room back into the stairwell. They came out on to the roof and immediately Samuel began to talk.
“They have been watching you since you were small, they knew about you before I even met you” he almost shouted the words at Matt not stopping for breath before he continued.
“After you interviewed for the job they came in and offered me a lot of money if I gave you the position and kept them informed about you on a regular basis”
Matt ran this through his head a while. Why were they interested in him, this was supposed to be about Paul?
“You sent me on that story in Norwich deliberately didn’t you?” Matt said angrily. Samuel looked confused, then realisation hit.
“No, I had no idea, it was just a story as far as I knew” he said, but as he did realisation again crossed his face.
“What?” Matt asked as Samuel turned his back to him.
“Nothing, it just explains why I got this” he said, and turning back to Matt he lifted his shirt to reveal his torso was now a deep purple and green colour, some one had beat the living crap out of this man but Matt felt no sympathy at all.
“Please, is there anything you can do to help me” Matt pleaded. Samuel looked at his feet for a minute then shaking his head looked square into Matt’s eyes and said
“I don’t know anything, the only thing I know is that whatever they have planned is happening soon” he said apologetically. There was something in his voice that made Matt believe him. Again his mind raced with ideas and problems, he was so far into his subconscious that he didn’t immediately hear the shot. Looking up he saw Samuel still standing, but there was a vacant smile on his face. Matt frowned, Samuel collapsed to the floor heavily and permanently. Everything stopped, the air, his breath, the world. Then almost as though God had hit the fast forward button Matt turned and for the second time in twenty four hours he ran for his life.


Chapter 37

Was it minutes, or hours? Paul didn’t have a clue. He was becoming so used to his moving prison he thought he was beginning to drift off to sleep when he heard the phone again. The sound snapped him back together and he focused on listening to the one half of the conversation.
“Yes, I heard, it is an unfortunate but acceptable loss” came the unseen voice from the cab of the truck.
“No you stay there I have business with this one, I will leave Davaar tomorrow morning and meet you in Paris at lunch time” he continued.
“Yes the usual restaurant, see you then” and with that the conversation was ended.

*

“631, 632, 633” Professor Whyte was counting absent-mindedly when there was a loud crash against his cell door.
“WHAT!” he screamed as a hooded figure came in holding a tray of food. The professor couldn’t help but smile when he saw that he startled his jailer, but regretted it when the tray of food came hurtling towards him.
He wasn’t too worried because he was eating fairly well and more regularly than he had been at home while doing his research. The one thing he wanted was the fork, he needed a new one to continue scraping away at the wall hoping to loosen some more bricks. Initially he was hoping to escape through the hole but after a while he realised that the only wall of his cell he was able to affect led straight into a neighbouring cell.
He was blessed with a small camp bed and a bucket that was emptied every day. He didn’t much like the decor of his accommodation but being British wasn’t going to complain about it. He appeared to be in a small alcove of natural rock and after getting a good view into the next cell he had discovered that the far cell also only had one man made wall and that was shared with the professor.
With his new tool he managed to eventually remove enough bricks to squeeze through to the other cell. This one was slightly larger but didn’t have any door that he could see.
The professor was stumped, what was the point of this room? Eventually as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light he scanned around above his head and saw a door about twenty feet up the back wall. Again he couldn’t help but smile “I’m in a castle” he said out loud, “I’m being held in a god damn castle” he laughed as he squeezed back through his hole.

*

“Can I please ask a question?” Paul eventually asked the hooded figures. For a long while neither one made any indication that they had heard him, so he slumped back against the wall.
“What?” the figure on his right grunted, Paul looked in surprise, “What’s your question?” he said again.
“How long have we been in here?” Paul asked.
He definitely heard a small laugh as the figure on his left lifted the robe slightly looked at his wrist watch and said “six hours”
Paul was hugely disappointed but not surprised, he did the math in his head. Three hours to Calais ten hours drive to Cambletown so if we used a Ferry we are about half way there. But what if they flew? He decided that wasn’t possible because why would they land in the south of England. He nodded to himself as he decided that they must have taken the ferry.
“Why are you nodding?” asked the figure on his right.
Paul was about to lie but decided against it,
“Just trying to figure out where we are, I like to try and see if I can guesstimate where I am on a journey by the time I have been travelling” he was talking just for the sake of talking and even in his own head as he said the words he knew they were rubbish. Both his companions looked toward each other then back at Paul. Then something happened that he did not expect, one of them said
“I like to do that as well, except if I’m not driving I will sometimes have a sleep then when I wake up I try to guess how long I was asleep by the landscape”
Paul let out a nervous laugh, that broke the ice as it were and for the next few hours the three men continued to talk and even laugh in a polite yet guarded way that a group of men usually do before they really know each other. Watching his too captors talking he thought to himself “it’s never like this in the movies” before joining back in with the conversation.
Still the three men talked for what Paul thought was four hours. The conversation had just started to peter out when there were three loud thumps against the rear of the van, Paul hadn’t even noticed that they had stopped. His two companions looked at the rear doors then at each other then back at Paul. The figure on his right got up, stood in front of him and said “I’m actually sorry about this” with that he produced a small thick plastic stick and hit Paul across the head. Before his brain even realised the pain, it had cut out and he was unconscious.

A clock was ticking somewhere; Paul reached around flailing his arms about trying to shut the damn clock up. “Let me sleep” he said as he slowly began to wake up. He began to realise that it wasn’t ticking but something else. He opened one eye and a droplet of water hit his pupil like an arrow heading for its bulls eye.
“Yuck!” he said as another landed in his open mouth.
He jumped to his feet and took in his surroundings. Like a caged animal he began to get nervous and restless. He searched the four walls or one wall and what looked like bare rock. Again and again he circled trying to search for a door.
“You’ll make yourself dizzy” came a voice that seemed familiar to him.
Paul again whipped round to where he thought the voice was coming from.
“Who’s there? who are you?” he replied angrily,
“Where am I” he continued not waiting for a reply.
“You my new friend, are I believe in the dungeons of a castle” came the disembodied voice.
Paul began to calm down. He headed to the only man made wall and sat down.
“Who are you?” he asked as he rested his sore head against the cold smooth stone.
“My name is Professor Jonathan Whyte” came the reply. Paul stared at the wall, “Lizzie’s dad!” he whispered to himself but apparently not quiet enough.
“What! You know my Lizzie? He screamed. Paul could hear shuffling behind the wall, then the brick beside him began to move as the Proff began to open up his hole again.

It took a little over five minutes before the professor squeezed himself through the hole. Paul helped him to his feet and as he did he saw a middle aged man slightly gaunt but generally healthy for someone who had been in a prison cell for at least a month.
“Where is she? They told me she was dead?” he quavered as he asked the question. The pleading tear hiding behind his eye touched Paul. In just thirty seconds he knew he liked this man.
“She is ok” Paul replied, but the Professor didn’t look convinced.
“I promise you, she is fine” Paul reiterated attempting to reassure him.
“How do you know?” he asked again
Paul decided that it probably wasn’t a good idea to tell this man that he had, had a psychic vision, so he lied.
“I saw her minutes before I was taken she was fine” he said in the most genuine voice he could muster.
The professor still didn’t look one hundred percent convinced but he seemed a little better.

Both men sat in silence for a long while until the air was ripped apart by a terror filled scream that in an instant both men knew had come from Lizzie.

*

“Tell me where he is Miss Whyte” Said Joshua as he riffled through the red hot embers with the branding iron.
He lifted it out and headed back towards her with it held out in front of him. She wasn’t crying, no tears left her eyes she would not allow it, she would not give him the satisfaction. Searing pain raced through her shoulder as he pressed the branding iron firmly into her scapular. She couldn’t help it anymore, she let out a scream of both pain and anger.
“This can stop, all I need you to do is to tell me where he is” Joshua said with a hint a fear in his voice. The idea that Matt was still out there, still free kept her strong, kept her brave, she knew he would come for her but didn’t know how long her resolve would hold out.
A phone in Joshua’s pocket rang. Looking at it he hesitantly pressed the receive button.
“Yes?” he said quietly
“No she hasn’t given anything yet” he answered
“Yes I’ve done that, shall I go on to the face?” he asked the caller.
That sent a shiver of fear through her, she closed her eyes and focused on Matt again, the idea seemed to give her a feeling of comfort a feeling of love.
“No? Ok, I will wait for the other” he finished and hung up the phone. Two hooded figures emerged from the gloom of the shadow and un-tied her hands and feet. She took a second and stood up and turned to face Joshua trying to look as strong as possible even though she only had her bra covering her upper half, struggling with pain tearing through her body.
“My shirt please!” she said reaching out her hand. It was thrown unceremoniously at her and she was escorted back to her cell.

The professor launched at Paul, knocking his head back against the wall.
“Who are you?” screamed the Professor stepping away from a shocked Paul. But he wasn’t listening Paul had placed a tentative hand to the back of his head and it had come away wet with blood.
He stared at the deep crimson coating on his fingers and with a sinking feeling he could feel that old morbid fascination creeping back into his subconscious. Shaking his head hoping to beat it back down he stood up an saw that the Professor was staring at him.
“What?” Paul asked with a worried look on his face.
“You’re him, you are the one they fear” came the reply “You are the one with the sick fascination the love of death and destruction, the one that both fascinates and disgusts you” he babbled as he began to pace.
Paul looked fascinated at the man he now believed was about to finally explain why his life up to now had been blighted, why he had lost Becki.
“Please tell me everything that has happened” begged the Professor.
“ok” was all Paul could say for a second, his mind still racing he began to recall everything that had happened since he and Matt had met Lizzie.
With the Professor stopping him every thirty seconds the story took around forty minutes.
Once he had finished, both men sat in silence, both heads full of questions and ideas.
“You knew she was alive because of a vision didn’t you?” he asked Paul.
“Yes” he replied hesitantly
“I need to ask you one more thing then I will explain everything” The proff summarised
“What was her name? Who was the loved one you lost to their cause?” he asked politely
Paul was dumbfounded he stared blankly at him not knowing or wanting to say anything.
To his credit the professor didn’t push, he gave Paul the time to answer.
“Becki, her name was Becki, she was my fiancé or would have been” he murmured.
“I’m sorry, it isn’t fair that you have been chosen” the professor said with genuine affection.
Paul faced him again expectantly.
“It was prophesised in their teachings. They are known by two names, The Church of Chinju or the Order of the emerald eye” he said pausing to catch his breath before continuing.
“They believe that they are the true faith, over the years they have accumulated many aspects of the three faiths, Judaism, Christianity and the Muslim Faiths. It started as a pure idea in the fifteenth century but has been corrupted through the centuries. They believe that soon will be the time of their rise to power and the only one who has the power to oppose them is you”
The professor stopped for dramatic effect watching Paul’s reaction.
As if reading Paul’s mind the professor continued,
“I don’t know how they believe it will happen or what power they believe you have because my research had to stop once I found myself in new accommodation” he said hinting at his jail cell. Paul didn’t smile, but he did finally understand. No that wasn’t right he still felt confused but at least he had answers.


Chapter 38

Joshua left the castle as soon as Lizzie had been escorted back to her cell. He was sitting in the back of his chauffeur driven car heading to Glasgow airport going through the plans for his part of the final stages. As long as they were separated he was sure it would go to plan.
He was still going through the plans as he sat uncomfortably on the plane, then quietly in the back of a Parisian taxi.
He met with the power suit and Lawford in his favourite cafe only one hundred yards from the Eiffel tower.
They gave their report on what had happened in Paris before he had arrived to take possession of the boy.
They both sounded exceptionally timid, he knew they were keeping something from him.
“Tell me everything” he demanded.
They looked at each other and eventually Lawford said
“He has been to the morgue, the one where we stored the body”
Joshua thought for a minute, slightly puzzled. Why would he think to go there we covered every possible scenario? But then something occurred to him, he got up and flagged down a taxi with Lawford and the power suit following.
Ten minutes later he was striding through the doors of the morgue ignoring the yells of the receptionist. The morgue itself was cold and exactly what he would have expected. It took him seconds to locate the draw with the body he wanted; he opened it and uncovered the headless corpse.
He looked it up and down questioning every aspect of the plan he had instructed.
“Give me the file on the girl” he barked to Lawford.
A shaking hand gave him a red cardboard folder; Joshua snatched it and opened it. He pulled out surveillance photos and flicked through to the ones of her undressing. Two photos showed her through her bedroom window naked. He looked at her body with no sexual desire only determination. There it was, a small mark on her body, everything fell into place. He knew why he had been in the morgue.
Joshua was furious; he had to get back to Scotland. He reached into his inside pocket and removed a small pistol. He turned to the idiots who had possibly ruined everything. “Good, they are scared” he thought to himself.
“You fool’s, do you know what you have done” he said his blood boiling.
He lifted his arm and put a bullet into the face of the power suit. Lawford shrieked but Joshua stormed past him, throwing the folder back at him.
“He knows she is alive!” he screamed as he raced out of the room.

Paul had seen all of this collapsed on the floor of his stone cell with a terrified yet fascinated professor standing over him.
Paul eventually stood up and looked back towards the professor,
“I think we are in trouble” he said coldly.

*

Unknown to Joshua and Paul, Matt had finally arrived at his destination. He had done a full loop of the Kintyre peninsula and arrived at a small village call Peninver just a mile from Cambletown. He pulled into a small car park that sat snugly between two caravan parks. He was literally feet from the ocean so he decided to stretch his feet and possibly wet them in the sea.
This didn’t last long as the water was so cold he couldn’t stand it.
Rubbing his feet, attempting to regain feeling in them he sat on a small rock looking out at the Irish Sea. He had never felt so lost or alone. His childhood had been normal; he had a loving family and had never wanted for anything until now.
He needed guidance, he needed help, what was he going to do?


Chapter 39

He sat there for around an hour; he may have stayed longer if it wasn’t for the cold forcing him back into himself. He was utterly lost as he looked at his surroundings scanning for anything to help re-ignite his journey. There it was, the last refuge of a man who has no purpose or idea what to do and no access to a television, he gathered his thoughts and headed for the pub that had twinkled at him in the gloom.
The effect was instantaneous, he stepped through the door of Peninver village pub and the warmth and atmosphere washed over him like a wave. One of the unsung jewels of British life is the village pub Matt thought as he slumped into a seat at the bar. It doesn’t Matter where in the UK you are you will all ways find a local pub where more often than not you are welcomed as a friend after your first drink has been ordered.
This was no exception, he sat with a cool pint of larger listening to an old man with such a thick Scottish accent that Matt only understood every other word. Betty, the barmaid was a round faced woman in her sixties, proud and loud as his dad would have said. She had a thick set perm of white hair sit atop her rosy cheeked and laughing face.
With his third pint half finished and deep in conversation with what turned out to be the owner of the caravans outside, Matt decided he didn’t want to stay any longer. He was becoming too comfortable and didn’t want to wake up in the morning with a hangover.
“Where are you staying?” Betty asked only half waiting for a reply.
Matt hadn’t given any thought past staying in the hire car
“Not sure, is there a hotel in town? He asked to be polite.
“No I won’t have that” she replied
“You can stay in one of the caravans” she had the look of a woman not to be argued with as she made her offer.
Matt stood and got his wallet out to pay, but she ushered him down,
“No don’t be silly” she laughed
“I can’t, it wouldn’t be right” Matt said half heartedly
“How about this then, if you stay much past tomorrow, then we will talk about payment?” she asked with a smile.

Resigned to defeat and a little grateful he accepted her generous offer, took a key and bade them good night.

He had no luggage so headed straight to the caravan. It had the unlived feel of a hotel room but also the homely feel you get from a lonely old person welcoming you into their living room. Shower and bed he thought as he stood in the middle of the little kitchenette. He stripped naked, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor and headed to the small alcove bathroom and cupboard sized shower. It was small and the water pressure wasn’t great but it was still a welcome comfort.
He didn’t stay in their long and was soon collapsed on the sofas with a towel round him looking out into the dark sky that bordered the ocean. He thought about turning on the TV but decided against it and picked up a handful of pamphlets instead. There was on a for a local golf course, one for a whisky distillery, one for the local library and swimming pool and one for the caravan park itself. The last one was for the ruins of an old abbey located only a few miles up the road. Matt was sure he had seen a sign for it on his way in but now it didn’t interest him in the slightest. He tossed them back on to the work top and watched as they slid across the surface spreading like a pack of cards. This action made him take note of the kettle and small selection of tea and coffee. “What the hell” he said out loud, he was so tired a cup of coffee isn’t going to affect his sleep. He lumped towards the kettle, flitting a look at the discarded pamphlets and there it was. Excitement grabbed him and he lunged once more for the pamphlets. More specifically the one for the abbey. He hadn’t paid any attention to the picture the first time he had seen it but now he saw it clear as day. There in the picture was a large free standing stone and dead centre of it was that damn symbol, the one that had started all of this, the symbol of the Chinju.
Could it wait until morning? He thought as he looked lovingly at the bedroom door. He sighed as he picked up his clothes slowly putting them back on. He probably shouldn’t drive but he felt that this was too important to ignore. Exiting the caravan and methodically making sure everything was locked and secure he headed back to the car, “Damn you woman” he thought with a small smile “what the hell have you done to me?”

Ten minutes in the car and he was turning up the small lane leading to Sadell Abbey. He got out of his car and looked round. It was now pitch black and he saw nothing that hinted at life, no light from windows, not even a passing car. He then looked towards the ruins of the abbey. There it was, mingled in between ancient oak trees and overgrown bramble bushes.
“What the hell am I doing” he thought as he stepped over a kissing gate and carefully crept up the small gravel path.
“I’m walking into a Stephen King novel” he said out loud hoping that his words would help dispel his impending fear. They didn’t work, he had never been very good in the dark and rapidly began to wonder why in the hell he was in what was ultimately a graveyard late at night. He wandered round aimlessly for ten minutes or so before he discovered the stone he had been looking for. The stone in front of him was at least fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide. The symbol at the top was carved deep into the granite and underneath was a picture that he couldn’t quite distinguish so he moved further down to what appeared to be a list of names. He squinted but couldn’t see the words. A smarter man would have picked up a torch of some kind before he left his flat, he didn’t have anything and that pissed him off. He usually prepared everything in meticulous detail, why hadn’t he this time?
He had been concentrating on the stone so intently, he hadn’t noticed the dark envelop him. He could now see nothing more than three feet in front of him, his heart jumped in his chest, his imagination was revved up at the best of times so the addition of actual real people out there wanting him dead almost sent him over the edge.
“SNAP” he whipped round, nothing, he held his breath, not wanting to make a sound, and the night did the same. The wind died, the air felt solid and he was sure something wasn’t right. He shivered uncontrollably as he attempted to take a step forward. Footsteps flashed across the ground to his left. Instinct should have told him to run but fear was winning. He stood rooted to the spot, not knowing which direction to look let alone run. Again he heard footsteps in the same place only this time they were slow and definite. Still he stood frozen, positive something would explode from the dark brandishing a weapon. Nothing happened, seconds crawled by, still nothing, he edged back towards the direction he thought he had left the car. Further and further away from the stone, turning three hundred sixty degrees with every step trying to see what was there. Fear began to mix with dizziness but still he kept moving. Step after step, second after second he edged towards safety. Ice cold sweat trickled down his spine slipping under the waist of his jeans. Then something struck his back and he let out a scream, in that incidence he thought his life was finished yet at the same time he felt slightly ashamed that such a feminine noise had left his mouth.
He turned and collided full force with the same kissing gate he had stepped over only minutes before. In one leap he cleared the gate and ran for the car, locking the doors turning the ignition and was out of the car park before he had even turned on the lights.
His heart was still pounding when he unlocked the door of the caravan. He hoped that he would feel safe once he was inside and locked in. He was just about to step through into relative safety when something crashed against the back of his head. He staggered forward, tripped and collapsed into the caravan. Before he had the chance to get up or even turn another blow caught him squarely between the shoulder blades. His back felt damp again but this time it was a warmth that spread across his shirt, blood!.
“I will not let you destroy us!” came a voice from behind. Matt was still a little shocked, still on his front, but no longer scared he was just angry. He launched his leg out from under him and crashed his foot into something soft which he knew was his assailant’s stomach. Life stopped, only a second past but everything was on pause
Matt turned after the longest second to ever tick by to see what happened. A dark figure was sprawled at the bottom of the step. Hesitantly Matt stepped down towards him and took his pulse, he was alive. He was about to turn back when he remembered something he had seen in a movie.
He dragged the figure back into the caravan and was slightly shocked to see that the man was wearing a dog collar; he had been attacked by a priest.
He tied the priest hands behind his back to the fixed table legs in the dining area. He had no rope so tied the priest as tight as possible with towels, with that done he sat and waited.

His head jerked on his shoulder and he jumped to his feet, he had fallen asleep, how dumb can you get. He turned sure the priest wouldn’t be there but, there he was still unconscious.
An hour later the priest roused, Matt was sure the knots would come undone if he started to struggle.
He didn’t, he opened his eyes and looked coldly at Matt.
“Why am I alive?” he asked in a rasping voice
“look buddy I don’t know who you think I am” Matt said but was interrupted.
“You are part of the abominable cult that calls itself a religion” he growled in reply.
Matt's interest peaked; this man knew something about Lizzie.
“The Chinju? What do you know?” Matt almost shouted the words. The priest looked genuinely surprised,
“Who are you?” he asked Matt scanning his surroundings
“They have my friends and I need to get them back” Matt pleaded, “Please, what can you tell me?”
The priest watched Matt for a moment trying to decipher his face, looking for any sign he was lying. He must have been satisfied because all the tension went out of the room.
“I followed you to the Abbey, you were at the stone, I have been keeping guard over that entrance and when I saw you I thought you were part of it” he said without a hint of apology. But Matt didn’t care, the only words he heard was entrance; he had his way into Paul, and more importantly Lizzie.

Both men sat in silence Matt's brain racing through a hundred possibilities. He couldn’t do anything tonight so he resigned on the plan of sleeping for a couple of hours and heading out at day break, but what the hell would he do with the priest, he didn’t trust him.
The compromise came in the pillow that Matt gave the priest leaving him tied to the table. He checked the knots adding an extra towel for good measure then heading to the bedroom and locking the door.
Daylight came far too soon. It felt like the time taken for him to open and close his eyes and the night had gone. His limbs were like lead weights but his heart and mind were soaring. He left the bedroom cautiously, not knowing what to expect. The priest had gone. Matt did a cursory search of the caravan but decided to forget him.
Five minutes later he was back in the car. Ten minutes more and he was back standing in front of the stone analysing the list of words.
They appeared to be names, five names listed in front of him. Rees, Sheppard, Hills, Boxall and Greenwall. This didn’t mean anything to him. Most of the names didn’t even sound English. He was getting nowhere; the excitement of last night’s adventure was wearing away rapidly.
His shoulders slumped; he walked round the rest of the church yard. There was a fence running up the left hand edge of the Abbey grounds with a gate half way up. Not really knowing why or what he hoped to achieve, he headed for the second gate.
The ground dived away into a small river valley about twenty feet deep. There wasn’t much trace of the river any more only a small trickle of a stream. He stood on the edge looking down at the glistening stones sitting lazily in the path of the crystal clear water.
“Oh come on!” he said to himself as he spied it.
“Why is nothing ever easy” he continued as he looked for a way down. Sitting at the base of the opposite side of the valley was a small stone no bigger than a football. Possibly because of the water reflecting over its surface, maybe it was some other reason but on it he saw yet again that damn symbol.
After slipping twice and swearing loudly four times he managed to make it to the bottom. He had hoped to avoid getting wet but forgot all about it after his second fall.
Gaining his bearings in relation to where he was standing he looked for the stone. He found it quite easily only a few feet from him.
He stood in front of it looking down not wanting to touch it. That didn’t last; he bent down and grazed it with his finger tips. He was surprised at how warm it felt even down here in the dreary damp water. Taking a firmer hold of the surface he felt that it was loose. Not thinking, he picked it up to examine it further. It came away smoothly and surprisingly light, that wasn’t right.
Instinctively he stepped back waiting for something to happen. Of all the things that went through his mind nothing could have prepared him for what actually did.
The ground immediately in front of him disappeared. Stones, mud, grass and twigs all collapsed in on themselves revealing a hole in the side of the valley more than big enough for him to get through.
He stepped through into the gloom thinking that if he was in a movie he would probably have come up with some witty retort but nothing came to him.
The tunnel he now found himself in narrowed dipped and turned back on itself. He followed it for a couple of minutes when surprise two of the hour struck him. He stepped out into a larger dimly lit concrete tunnel. Sixty watt bulbs buzzed pathetically as they tried to brighten the gloom but they weren’t enough the tunnel was big enough to drive a car in but looked as though the electricity was the only thing that had raced down it in many years. His next decision was an easy one the tunnel dead ended only ten feet to his right so he went left. He walked for an hour snaking left and right as the tunnel followed the curve of the land. Believe it or not he was actually starting to get bored when he saw a double metal door ahead of him. Judging by the state of the tunnel he expected the doors to be locked with a big rusty bolt but they weren’t, this scared him.

He edged through the door looking every direction for danger but nothing came. He seemed to be in a storage closet that had a strong smell of chlorine. Creeping through the cluttered storeroom he headed for the staircase. He began to relax a little, as he ascended he could hear children’s voice's coming from behind the door. Puzzled he opened it and stepped through into the foyer of a swimming pool.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed getting a dour look from a mother as she and her small child walked past.
Confused he left the building and found himself in the centre of the town. Just to the right of the building was a large playing field with benches skirting the edge, he headed towards them to sit and think.
For the longest while he sat watching a small group of people messing around on the grass. They were playing with one of those hollow plastic cricket sets you often see kids playing with on the beach. They seemed to be having one of those afternoons you rarely get in your life, time with close friends when even the flattest comment gets wrapped up in the moment and becomes one of the funniest things you ever heard. A tall elegant girl seemed to collapse on to the floor in fits of laughter; this just made the others laugh harder. One of the men took a photo of her laying in the soft grass then turned to his other male friends just in time to see two of them both chasing the ball and colliding into each other. The sound of the laughter followed him down the road and he felt a little mournful. He walked towards the water and a small roundabout, still lost in his thoughts.
A stream of cars went past a little too fast for small town traffic; this brought him out of himself. It took him a second to take it all in but it came. Three cars went past and in the middle one he saw them. Two hooded robed figures sat in the passenger and driving seats. The cars went past and Matt found himself running after them.
It was no good they had shot off up the road and out of sight. Before he could feel down hearted they reappeared as the road curved back around into sight.
They stopped suddenly, people got out, some changed cars others just pointed. He stood routed to the spot watching this exchange. Two of the cars restarted and continued up the road. To his amazement they turned off the road on to the beach. The tide was out and he could see a passage across to a small island. “That’s where they are” he thought with a sudden surge of delight. But before he could fully comprehend this breakthrough he saw the other car come back into view, going even faster this time. The car now contained five robed figures with one purpose, but Matt wasn’t going to stick around to find out exactly what it was, so yet again he ran for his life.


Chapter 40

Lizzie sat, exhausted, slumped against the wall of her cell. She hadn’t even bothered to put her shirt back on; the cool damp of the stone was gracious relief against the blistered skin of her shoulder. Even the eyeballs that appeared at regular intervals in the hole in the door didn’t bother her.
The longer she sat, the better she felt and the angrier she got. She felt violated, embarrassed and that wasn’t something she had felt before and never wanted to again. Deep down in her gut she knew Matt was on his way, but she didn’t want to sit there like a fairytale princess waiting for her prince. Hell, she was already here so why couldn’t she be the knight, why couldn’t she look for her father?
Standing up, full of fight she put on her shirt, buttoned it up and tucked it into the waist of her jeans. Why she did this she wasn’t sure, but she was conscious of the act, as though she wanted to be as smart as possible.
Many ideas went through her head; play dead, seduce the guards, hide? She was still thinking when the latch on the door turned. Some say the best plans are the improvised ones and this was no exception. She threw herself against the wall, out of sight of anyone coming through the door. She let the guard take one step into the room before she entwined her fingers as if to make a club from her fists, then brought it down as hard as she could across the back of the guard’s head.
It worked, he staggered forward and slipped on the damp stone floor, giving her enough time to slip out of the door and lock it behind her. “That was easy” she said to herself as she looked up the corridor. Breaking into a run she called out in a whisper “Ok Dad, I know you’re here somewhere?”

*

Matt sprinted up the middle of the road he seemed to have found the main shopping street of the town. He raced past Woolworths, a couple of cafes and a chemist before he realised he had no idea where he was going. He would be in the middle of the countryside any second, then what?
He stopped looking over his shoulder and started trying to work something out. The engine of the pursuing car got louder and Matt knew it would soon be in sight. He turned off the main road after seeing a sign for the hospital. He hoped that maybe there was a police station down there as well. Logic wasn’t high on his agenda, why he thought hospital meant police he will never for the rest of his life know why.
It was a mistake, he saw the car almost the second he turned into the road. A BMW came racing towards him.
He ducked down an alley on his left, heading back down the hill. A car screeched as it took a corner far too quickly, like a race to the finish Matt in his narrow dank alley, the car on its surprisingly empty road, first one past the line stays alive.
Matt won, he made it out of the alley and slipped into an open fire door before the car found him. He stood flat against the wall just inside of his unknown temporary refuge breathing heavily not daring to move when he heard an engine shut off just outside the door. Running on adrenaline now, he quietly left the wall and stepped further into the dark.

*

Lizzie was in a maze of tunnels, every single one looking the same. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked herself, but no answer came. Turn after turn, she still found no way out until she took one final turn and collided with someone. She saw a flash of blue as the two figures fell to the floor. Her instinct was to raise her hands to block any blows that would undoubtedly come.
Nothing, slowly she got back to her feet and saw that the guard was out cold, he had cracked his head hard against the floor. There was a large pool of blood edging out from the base of his skull which worried her, but after feeling that his pulse was strong she felt a little better.
Stepping over the body she noticed the silver glint of a gun in his outstretched hand. She nervously bent down and picked it up. It was heavier than she ever considered, it felt clunky and strange in her hand. It wasn’t right, not like the movie stars who seemed to throw it around as though it was made of paper. “No” she said firmly as she threw the gun away. The metal echoed along the corridor following her to the foot of a staircase, light emanating from the open doorway at the top.

*

He was in a stock room, it was unusually dark but it was definitely a stock room. He walked past toys, DVDs, CDs, sweets and drinks; he guessed he was in the back of the Woolworths store he had passed minutes ago. Still not sure where he was going, he leapt back into the space between two piles of boxes as he heard two voices coming towards him.
“How long ‘til we finish Harvey?” asked a young girl.
“Don’t get your hopes up Sarah, we still got four hours. Come on let’s get the drinks cooler filled so I can have a cigarette” came the reply.
Matt let out a breath in relief as the two of them walked straight past without spotting him in his hiding place. Making sure they were out of sight, he slipped out of his hole noticing that he had been hiding in between Teenage Mutant Turtle space hoppers and a pile of radio control hovercrafts.
The metal doors crashed open surprising the kids on the cigarette break “HEY! What the hell are you…?” the voice was frightened but cut off mid sentence. Matt didn’t know if the kids had been hurt or killed but at that moment in his life he didn’t give a damn.
Bursting through a set of double doors he found himself in the shop. Ignoring cries of outrage and anger, he threw himself into the small aisles of the shop hoping it was enough to get him out.
It wasn’t, he saw two figures still dressed in full robes careering down the next aisle. Instinct kicked in, he knew he only had a split second and launched his shoulder at the shelves.
The pain ripped through him as he crashed against the solid unit but it had the desired effect. Boxes, balls, skipping ropes and other toys he didn’t recognise fell from the shelves, disorientating them long enough for him to make a break for the door. His adrenaline was searing through his veins so fast he could almost feel it as he burst out into the fresh air and raced down the street.
No plan and no idea what to do he ran for the small jetty. He didn’t look back, he couldn’t look back, but he knew they were only feet behind him. The end of the jetty was coming ever closer, bringing with it the cold clutches of the ocean. Then he was in the air, the ground had gone, his arms outstretched like a dart. The water enveloped him, he dived further down into what he hoped was safety but he had been followed by a hail of bullets.

*

Lizzie could hear voices coming from the top of the stairs. She stopped, foot hovering above the first step not sure whether she should climb when something startled her. A sneeze, she heard a sneeze and got excited. “It couldn’t be?” she said with hope as she slowly climbed. Edging up the staircase, her hand out in front of her, she peaked over the top of the final step into the passage ahead of her. She could see a lot clearer up here because of the five electric bulbs. She could see a solitary door about half way up. There it was again, a sneeze. It came from the door and this time she was sure. Losing all sense of hesitation she ran to the door.
“Dad? Is that you?” she said standing on the tips of her toes trying to peer through.
“Lizzie?” the reply was from a voice weak and scarred.
“My god, I thought I would never see you again!” said the professor as he reached his fingers through the bars.
“Hang on, let me see if I can get you out?” she called as she hopelessly looked up and down the passage.
“Lizzie no, forget it, get yourself out of here” Paul called as he began to remove the barrier between the cells.
“Paul?” she exclaimed in pleasant surprise but soon felt a little bad when the only thing she could think to say was
“Where is Matt?”
“Not here, but he is on his way” he called trying to sound calming.
“Dad, I can’t get you out” she said defeated, “I am not leaving you” she continued as she saw the look in her father’s eyes.
Knowing the stubbornness of his daughter he decided against arguing.
“Ok, Paul’s cell has a door but it’s about twenty feet up on the back wall, see if you can get there” the professor sounded a little ashamed as he said this.
“Ok, I’ll be as quick as I can” she said brightly. With that she turned to leave but, Dad’s arm grabbed her by the shoulder.
“Lizz! Please be careful” his eyes portrayed more empathy than any words could possibly achieve.
“Don’t worry Dad, I’ll be ok” she said trying to reassure him. As she turned away from the cell door she actually did think she was going to be ok.

*

His head now felt so light he thought it may lift off his shoulders and leave the rest of his body under the water. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer, he had to surface.
Oxygen rushed into his body and it felt good. He took two deep breaths before it even occurred to him to see where he was. He had swum a good five hundred yards while he was under the water and was now out of sight of his pursuers. He tried to skirt the edge of the land as closely as possible but had misjudged it a little.
He was at least going in the right direction but he had drifted out to sea a little more than he would have liked.
He found himself treading water a little way off shore, behind a row of houses. Even out in the cold Irish sea he couldn’t help but notice that every single house seemed to have a trampoline in the back garden.
He turned to face the island and to his immense relief saw he wasn’t far from it. In-fact it would be closer to swim there than to head back to shore. The tide was out so he soon found that his toes began to trace the floor. A couple hundred yards and he was standing flat with his chin brushing the surface. He was just about to push forward to the uncovered causeway when he heard crunching tyres. The BMW was making its way carefully across the stones, trying to avoid the wet rocks but failing. The car stopped, its wheels spinning helplessly on the seaweed covered stones. It was so bad that two of the passengers had to get out and push.
Eventually it made it on to the island, snaking its way up the steep hill to an opening in the rock face.
Matt watched in wonder as he tried to take in the grandeur of the island and his task that lay ahead. This was ridiculous, what was now stopping him from turning back and heading home? Why couldn’t he do it? Something pulled at his insides as he thought about the possibility of jacking it all in and heading home. But he wouldn’t let himself quit but he didn’t know why.
“Ok, just walking up to the front door would be suicide” he said out loud trying to sound resolute hoping this would make him feel better.
“I’ve got to try and find a way in the back” he continued as he walked across the stones.
*

“Has there been any sign of him?” Joshua screamed as he entered the hall.
No one wanted to speak. The four men stood, eyes fixed to the floor like naughty school children.
“Well, answer me” he continued.
“Er, yes he was spotted in the town only ten minutes ago” said a brave yet timid man to his right.
“And?” Joshua asked, but knew the answer before it was spoken.
“We are still…” he was cut off mid-sentence by a bullet passing through his skull.
“I don’t want excuses, I want him brought to me dead or alive!” he yelled fanatically. The remaining three men and the two that had entered with Joshua ran from the room, one of them barking orders into a radio.
Alone, Joshua paced the room. This was meant to be the simple part, none of them knew of their roles or their abilities. How could it have gone so wrong? All loose ends have been tied up, he only needed these final three and his part would be done, he could get back to his retirement and out of this miserable weather.
His age then played its part, he was full of ideas and had many things that needed to be done but he was too tired, he had to sit down. He sat behind his desk and flipped open his laptop. Maybe the sight of the two prisoners he already had would help his nerves. He punched in the code for the security camera in the boys’ cell and saw him sitting against the wall. The code for the girls’ cell was then punched in.
“LAWFORD! She’s gone!” he screamed into a radio as he rose from the desk.

*

The next floor couldn’t have been more different to the one where Paul and her Dad were. She was now in what appeared to be an office block. She may well have been standing in the offices of an insurance company or call centre. It was weird, everything was there right down to the photo copier and the fax machine. The only thing that was missing were the windows. Moving through the numerous cubicles she headed for the far side and the exit. All she knew was that she had to go up another floor and try and make her way back to the cell door. Something began to bother her as she found the next flight of stairs. She was being held by some weird cult, so where was every one?
She got her answer on the next floor. The office motif continued but as she made her way down yet another corridor she began to hear voices; a lot of voices.
They seemed to be coming from a room not far from where she now stopped. Slowly, back up against the wall, she slid towards the door.
Her heart nearly fell through her chest as she cracked open the door. The room was huge and it was full of people all wearing the blue robes minus the hoods. There had to be hundreds of people milling about as though waiting for someone. Her usual curiosity was squelched by the insane fear coursing through her, so she backed out and continued her search for Paul’s cell. She was just about to leave when she heard a voice she recognised, the policeman from the train. She racked her brains trying to remember his name but had no luck. She edged back to the door and slipped inside.
He was standing at the front of the room, all eyes fixed expectantly upon him. He actually looked comfortable and a little impressive, but unfortunately his voice broke the glamour.
“People, our time has nearly arrived, three hours from now our wait will be over” applause echoed round the cavernous room.
“Too long has our faith been insulted by the charlatans who keep us in the shadows. Too long have we been persecuted by the Brethren, but no more” again applause followed but it wasn’t the reaction Lizzie thought that he wanted.
“Go my friends, go back to your lives and prepare for the new arrivals” again applause but this time his audience stood. Not waiting for them to finish clapping, Lizzie slipped back out of the room. This time though, she didn’t attempt to find the cell, she tried to follow Lawford and his entourage to see where they led her. They had left through a door at the top of the hall so she skirted the corridor to try and find them again.
There was a crackle of radio and Lizzie heard three words, three words that told her she was screwed. “LAWFORD, she’s gone” reverberated off the walls as Lawford came round the corner laughing, she was solely focussed on him so she didn’t see his goons grabbed her until it was to late.
“I have her Sir” Lawford squeaked smugly into the radio.
*

Matt had decided to go round the bottom of the island to scope it out before he tackled the increasingly steep hill. It seemed to get higher the closer he got. After a while the grass gave way to rocks which got bigger the further round he went. He came across a series of caves, all of which looked dark, all of which looked a little scary. “Yep that’ll be it.” he said resigned to the fact that things weren’t going to get any easier.
The first two he went in weren’t very deep and didn’t hold anything but a couple of shopping trolleys. The third didn’t appear to contain anything until he got all the way to the back when he found a gap in the rock just big enough for him to squeeze through.
After all he had been through he still let out an audible “yuch” as he slid along the slimy cave wall. Then quite possibly the strangest thing he had ever seen in his life so far appeared in front of him.
There on the wall was a painting of Jesus on the cross. Matt wasn’t a religious man but this had an impact, it was spectacular. The way the waves echoed around the cave only helped with the experience and the light seemed to glisten off the painted surface. He pulled his eyes away from the painting and noticed hundreds of crosses all around the cave. Some wooden, some stone and many other materials.
He suddenly didn’t feel right, he shouldn’t be there, he had to leave.
Stepping back out into the sunshine disorientated him a little, but he continued round nonetheless. He doubted the Chinju knew about the painting because they surely wouldn’t have allowed that shrine to exist. This thought brought a smile to Matt's face as he came across a path leading up to an entrance in the cliff face.
“Maybe I’ll be alright” he thought as he began to climb.


Chapter 41

Someone screamed as Lizzie was dragged back down the corridor to her cell. She couldn’t help but wince, the noise went through her like pain. Lawford noticed this and smiled.
“Stop, maybe she would like to come and see the priest before she dies?” he said spitefully. The two men that had hold of her changed her direction forcing her back up into the office block. They frog-marched her through the cubicles. Lizzie saw calendars and personalized coffee mugs sitting on empty desks and couldn’t help but wonder what sort of person could work in a place like this. She soon got her answer, but wished to every god in the sky that she hadn’t. A door opened in front of her and she was pushed through. She had once seen quite a horrific crash while she had been on tour. A driver had flipped his car and had his leg severed by the steering column. That didn’t effect her but the sight that now lay in front of her made her gag. A man was tied with barbed wire to a metal frame, wearing nothing but a dog collar. Three others were standing around him laughing and talking.
“Just taking a break Sir” one of them said in a Somerset accent. The man tied to the frame was blood red. Lizzie could see no part of him that wasn’t coated in his own blood. His face was twice the size it should have been and a plethora of different shades of bruise. The floor was coated in blood, faeces and urine, the three laughing men waded through it as though it wasn’t there.
“Please” she pleaded, wanting to leave.
“Maybe you’ll behave now. At least until Joshua wants you.” Lawford said with a whiney sneer that wasn’t half as frightening as he thought it was.
The two men holding her had loosened their grip a little, possibly out of compassion or maybe just carelessness. Lizzie didn’t care, she took her chance and wrenched her self free. Each arm came loose and almost as though she was being driven by someone else, her arms flew up with clenched fists on the end of each one, flew backwards and hit her jailers hard in the face. They dropped like stones. Lawford was almost as shocked as she was. All he could do was stutter,
“How…?What…? That’s impossible” he didn’t move, but Lizzie did, she took her chance and ran.
*
“Gym, I need to definitely join a gym when I get home” panted Matt as he attempted to climb the steep path. Just as he began to think that the climb was taking forever he reached his destination. It was no good though, he had to stop for a rest so he perched on the edge of a rock but soon regretted it when he realised he was very high and the only thing that would catch him if he fell would be the boulders below.
He got up carefully and stepped into the dark. He was in another tunnel but unfortunately this one wasn’t lit and got very dark very quickly. It wasn’t long before he had his hands on the walls to guide him. On and on he went deeper into the rock until with his next step he felt nothing. The floor had gone, he was going to fall. In that one instant his life flashed before his eyes, or at least he thought it was his life, it passed too quickly he fell about three feet before he thudded to the ground. Embarrassed and glad no one else had seen him, he tried to get up but paused. He could see a small sliver of light peering under what seemed to be a door. “Aha, the light at the end of the tunnel” he whispered, sniggering at his own poor joke. It was kind of make-or-break time really. He had no idea of what would be behind the door, a room full of bad guys, a larger hole, a Dalek? He shut his eyes and opened it.
A mop, a bucket, a Hoover and some cleaning supplies sat quietly in front of him waiting for their next use.
Matt decided that he wasn’t surprised by anything anymore. He half expected those annoying women with the cleaning show on the TV to be on the other side of the second door. They weren’t, it was a large open-plan office, a lot like his news room. Quietly he closed the cleaning cupboard door and made his way across the room to the stairwell stopping at the threshold to decide whether to go up or down. He decided that seeing as though he had gotten through most of this journey on movies it would be stupid to try anything different now. In the movies prisoners were usually kept in basements or dungeons, which meant down.
He thought how foolish and naive this idea felt but was vindicated next floor down as he found himself in what looked like castle dungeons. He could hear running footsteps above him, but they sounded too far away to worry about so he continued in.

*
Lizzie had no idea where she was going, again. This time however, when she got to the stairs she ran up as hard and as fast as she could. Two, three, four, five, six flights, she was beginning to get tired.
“How high can it go?” she thought in a panic. Her answer came on the ninth floor as there was only a single door that led out. Without thinking or caring what was on the other side she went through. To her amazement she found herself in the kitchen of a small cottage.
Not staying for a cup of tea, she flew through the room and headed out into the blustery Scottish weather.
She was buffeted by the surprisingly strong wind as she made her way across the fields. Her spirits were fading fast as she tried to decipher which direction she needed to go.Her spirits plummeted as she reached the brow of the hill and saw her predicament. She was at the top of a mountain, or at the very least a very big hill. Nonetheless there was a very long drop in front of her and no way down the sheer cliff face that looked out to sea.
She followed the edge of the cliff for about ten minutes until she realised,
“Oh great, I’m on a bloody island!” she said out loud.
“Take it all in Miss Whyte, you’ll never see it again” Lawford called over the wind. Lizzie turned to him to see his smug look, now he had three men with him.

*

Matt arrived at another doorway on the other side of which was a small staircase leading down into a similar tunnel.
He peered down, trying to see as far as he could and caught sight of a robed Chinju. The man had his back to Matt and didn’t seem to move so he took his chance. This plan was conceived mainly by his ego, he had seen something in a movie and always wanted to try it. He ran as quietly as he could, stopping a few feet short. Then, as calmly as he could muster, with his heart racing he walked up to the guard and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me” Matt said nonchalantly, clenching his fist as he pulled away. The guard turned and Matt swung. Yet again he didn’t connect properly, this time missing completely hitting the Chinju’s shoulder. All this did was piss him off, he was not happy as he shoved Matt away. Matt staggered back a few feet, and the Chinju charged. Smooth as a dancer, he slipped out of the way, then as slick as a karate expert he grabbed him by his robes and threw him against the wall.
“Something weird is going on” Matt thought as he, still shocked by his actions, began to move away from the unconscious heap he had left on the floor.

*

On the way back down, Lizzie resorted to one of the oldest tricks in the book for someone who doesn’t want to. The spoilt brat routine. She had a man on each arm and one directly behind with Lawford leading the way. Two floors down she began to chant “Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet?” she didn’t hope to achieve anything just annoy, and it worked. Another floor down and Lawford snapped,
“Will you shut up you little bitch” he snarled through clenched teeth, Lizzie just smiled and shook her head.
As they entered the office floor and made their way once more through the cubicles she started a new chant,
“I’m tired, will you carry me?” and dropped to the floor, refusing to move. Lawford finally cracked, sounding really pissed off now he ordered one of the men to pick her up.
Finally they reached the cell and Lizzie knew she had taken it too far.
“Joshua never mentioned what state you have to be in when we take you upstairs so I think my men are ok to have a little fun. You like acting like a child, so how about I leave them here to play with you?” She saw him leave as she fell to the floor, one of her playmates had smacked her hard across her face.

He heard her voice, he definitely heard her voice. Matt's heart leapt as he ran to the end of the passageway sure he heard Lizzie. He screeched to a halt before the end as he watched Lawford walk past. For a second he was sure he had been seen but it passed as Lawford obliviously carried on past. Matt made his way to the edge and peeked round.


Chapter 42

What the hell had this girl done to him? He had known her only a few weeks and already he couldn’t live without her.
Matt peeked round the corner to get one last look at the guards outside her cell. “One, two, three” he said under his breath, half hoping that by counting out-loud he may change something, make his job easy.
One of the sentries turned and Matt whipped his head back, positive that he had been seen. With his mind raging between panic, and trying to decide his best course of action a third party butted in “run you fool, run away no girl is worth dying for!” He shook his head hoping to shake out the doubt. The voices in his head screamed and he clasped his hands to his ears trying to bloke it out. Then with Sharpe realisation he stood up, alert and focused. The scream wasn’t in his head, it was coming from the cell; it was Lizzie.
All doubt evaporated and he exploded round the corner, half way to the cell before the guards knew what was happening. Confidence began to seep into him, his pace increased, he made it to within fifteen feet when one of the guards saw him turned, lifted a riffle and aimed it at his chest.
There was nothing he could do; his feet were still moving even though his brain was screaming in terror. He shut his eyes and prepared for the bullet.
Five seconds and nothing came; he opened his eyes and saw Lizzie grappling with the shooter.


Chapter 43

Lizzie lay on the floor clutching her face. She was furious, “how dare he hit me” she thought with fury. The guard approaching her was huge; he had large forearms hidden under the blue robes. She turned to face him as she slowly got to her feet. She could see the menace and a hint of a smile in his grey eyes piercing through the loose hood.
She used his weight against him, he lunged for her and with one swift movement she slid to her left and shoved him with all her strength. His momentum combined with her force made him crash into the stone wall. Without seeing if he was out, she turned to the door and saw the second guard aim his gun at a figure hurtling towards them. Her heart lifted, Matt was tearing down the corridor. “He won’t make it” she thought with a panic. Without considering the consequences she flew out of the door and tackled the guard.
All her strength was needed, as she struggled to put him off until Matt could reach her.
It worked, he made it.

Matt lowered his shoulder and crashed into the guard with the gun, sending him thundering into the door of the cell. By the time he got back to his feet the third guard had hold of Lizzie’s shoulders. She began to struggle and try to get away. It wasn’t working; the only thing she achieved was to rip her shirt. Three buttons shot away from her torso like bullets. The soft curve of her cleavage was now visible as Matt went to her aid.
She was still struggling wildly when he reached her. The guard, who was unarmed, was using her as a shield. Matt stopped in front of her waiting for his moment.
“What the hell are you waiting for?” she shouted angrily. The guard smiled, as Matt tried to concentrate.
He shook his head and in the calmest voice Lizzie had ever heard he said “can you stop moving please?”
She looked at him and instantly stopped. The second she did Matt launched his fist at the face of the guard. This was the fifth time he had done this now and finally he had done it right. The guard’s head flicked backwards against the wall and unconsciously he slipped down it. The problem was he still had hold of Lizzie so as he slipped the rest of her buttons exploded from her shirt.
Matt couldn’t help but look; the firm roundness of her breasts cradled in the lace, combined with the adrenaline of the fight aroused him.
Lizzie saw this and blushed slightly, she to was feeling the excitement of the moment.
The sexual tension was intense as the two of them dragged the two guards into the cell to join their cohort.
The lock on the door closed with a comforting thud. They both looked at each other and, with no words, locked into a passionate kiss. Not once in the “seconds, minutes, hours?” Matt didn’t know or care, did either one think of anything during that kiss. The kiss both of them had wanted ever since he had first caught her as she stepped out of her Aston on the M4.
Finally they broke apart, both breathing heavily not speaking, not wanting to. But then they both instinctively knew that if they didn’t move now they probably wouldn’t be able to control their emotions. Looking at Lizzie with her shirt open to the waist he wanted nothing more than to take it off and explore her further, but he didn’t want their first time to be in a dingy, damp moss covered jail cell.
Fortunately for the both of them they heard the cry of a new group of guards yelling orders and getting ever closer.
Snapping back to reality they began to run in the opposite direction. Matt ran ahead but soon realised he was alone. Stopping he turned to see Lizzie coming up behind him trying to tie her shirt in a knot giving her at least a little modesty. Felling a little disappointed he waited for her to catch up. In the eight seconds it took her to do this a sudden realisation hit him, “Where the hell are we going to go?” He had no idea, it occurred to him that his brain had, had no say in the rescue, it was his heart and pure adrenaline that had done all the planning.
Seeing the puzzled look on Matt's face Lizzie grabbed his hand looked lovingly into his eyes and with a smile said “Some knight you are, don’t even know the way out” With that she grabbed his hand and they both headed for what she thought was the exit.


Chapter 44

“I think I might be lost” she thought with a slight panic. The first time she had escaped she seemed to find her way out no problem, but this time.
She was about to admit her failings to a trailing Matt when at last she came across the passage that led to the next floor. Matt hadn’t noticed that she seemed lost. He realised, shaking his head, that for the last few minutes he had thought of nothing but Lizzie. He had forgotten, or at least ignored, the fact they were in mortal danger.
Lizzie stopped, looking for something,
“Come on we can’t stay here, we have to keep going” said Matt, gently pulling her arm.
“No, my father and Paul are in one of these cells we have to rescue them” she replied anxiously.
Matt felt awful, he had completely forgotten about Paul, let alone her father. Quietly, Lizzie retraced her steps in her mind to remember which cell they were in. Matt's arm was almost wrenched from its shoulder as Lizzie began to run again. Before Matt had gotten back up to full stride she had stopped.
They stood between an open door, it had been smashed open. Lizzie panicked, what could have happened? Where were they? She looked at Matt for reassurance.
She got it, his face radiated with a small smile that instantly made her feel safe.
As if he knew what she was thinking he pointed to a rock on the floor and said,
“It was broken from the inside, I think you will find that they have escaped” he said gently pulling her arm as they ran.

*

Paul’s head was racing with the information the professor had given him. It sounded complete rubbish but for some reason it made sense; it explained everything. He was still mulling it over when Lizzie came to the cell door. He actually never stopped thinking about the information, not fully taking in the words that came out of Lizzie’s mouth. Silence resonated through the cell for minutes after she had left them.
Finally his stream of thought got interrupted. Only something big was going to stop it. He came back into reality when he heard that she had been recaptured. He heard the squawk of the radio coming from just outside his own cell door, it was then he decided to do something.
Still not exactly sure what he was going to do, he began to remove the stones, once more making his way through into his neighbour’s cell.
The professor completely ignored him as he came through, his hands gripping the bars his eye darting up and down the corridor desperately searching for any sign of his daughter.
Paul paced the cell behind him, thinking, planning, hoping. He scanned the cell, the walls, then the floor, then the door. The door! The hinges, they were covered in rust. Surely a heavy blow would destroy them.
“But what can I use?” he thought looking around again. When he saw the stones from the wall he couldn’t help but shout,
“You are a real moron you know that”
The professor turned,
“Are you talking to me?” he asked slightly hurt.
“No, not at all” said Paul with a slight laugh as he turned back with his hammer.
“Excuse me Prof, but I think it’s time we left”
The crash of stone on metal, echoed through the passage way. Both men sure they had been heard but neither man cared.
Paul was right, it only took a couple of blows on each hinge and the door was lose. The problem came when they tried to remove it, it was a lot heavier than either of them had expected. But eventually they shifted it aside just enough for them to get out.
Surprised but thankful that no guards had turned up they made their way out along the passage way, hoping to find the way out. For the third time, people climbed the stairs in a bid for freedom and once again they were shocked when they got to the top and found the open plan office. The professor actually stopped and stared.
“This makes no sense!” he said, worried.
“Why would they have offices? It said nothing of this in the law and history of the cult”
“We don’t have time to worry about that” Paul whispered, grabbing the professor’s arm, “we have to get you out of here”

*

Less than five minutes later Matt and Lizzie were following in the footsteps of the professor and Paul, sneaking through the open plan office. Only they at least had some idea of where they were going. The plan was to sneak up as high as they could and attempt to find one of the cars that Matt had seen enter the complex.
“Ok, I’m a little worried now, where is everyone?” he asked yet another empty room.
“Did you say something?” Lizzie asked as she came back into view.
“Yeah kind of, I don’t like the fact no one is here” he said as they headed to the next floor.
“I know, I feel like I’m in a horror movie about to get attacked by blood thirsty zombies” she said not really looking at anything.
The next floor was a bust as well, and the next and the next. They had reached the eighth floor, if there was nothing here they would have to go back down.
Matt carefully opened his next door and gasped. Lizzie heard and came running. He had come across some sort of security centre. The far wall was covered in monitors, at least ten or twenty of them. They both ran forward to scour the screens for any sign of the other two. They both searched frantically, their eyes darting from one screen to another. There were images that both of them recognised like the dungeons and the office room, but they also scanned the screens that only Lizzie had seen, the big conference hall and cottage up stairs. Nothing after nothing they couldn’t see either of them until Lizzie screamed in relief.
“There, that screen, where is that” she said anxiously pointing. Matt looked at the image and realised it was the causeway to the island. Lizzie’s Dad was staggering across it to safety.
“I don’t see Paul” she said worried,
Matt looked and it was true, Paul wasn’t any where to be seen on either screen that held the causeway.
“He must be out of shot” Matt said hoping to sound comforting, “yeah he must all ready be on the other side waiting for your Dad” he continued trying to reassure not only Lizzie but himself.
They both stood in silence, not sure what to do when at last they saw Paul make it out on to the causeway. They both sighed in relief and turned away from the screens backs to the images, trying to plan their own escape. Neither one of them saw Paul stop and turn back. They were just about to leave the room when Matt headed hopefully to the window and came upon a wondrous sight. Smiling, he beckoned Lizzie over to him.
“Is that not the most fantastic thing you have ever seen?” he said not looking at her. They had found the garage and in it sat not only three BMWs but also a Range Rover. In no time at all they were in the garage breaking into the car. Or at least Matt was, he tried desperately to get in but failed. He had resorted to violence and was about to put his elbow through the window when the locks beeped and the car opened. He didn’t even turn round,
“That’s not funny, how long have you been standing there?” he said exasperated,
“Not long” Lizzie laughed as she raced round to the driver’s seat.
“Get the garage door will you?” she called as she revved the four point two litre engine.
The cold air rushed in as Matt threw the door up and out of their way. He jumped into the passenger seat and noticed that she had actually turned the heating on.
“Didn’t you used to test drive on the rally circuit” Matt said a little proud.
“Yeah, for a while” she answered hesitantly,“ but I was asked to stop”
“Why?” Matt asked with a sly grin
“I was deemed to reckless and it was thought I might hurt myself and others” she said with a smile as she floored the accelerator.
They raced of down the hill to apparent freedom, the car bouncing over the rough terrain with ease and Lizzie handling it without any problems.
“Oh crap!” Lizzie called out and turned before Matt had even seen the three Cars coming screaming around the bottom of the island.
“Hang on!” she said excitedly as she wrenched the handbrake managing to do a three-sixty turn on a steep incline yet still keep the car under control.
They didn’t exactly race back up the hill but they went a fair bit quicker than the other cars.
Lizzie then pulled her master plan, panicking Matt quite a bit as she did it.
“Why are you slowing down?” he asked craning his neck round to see where there pursuers were.
“Don’t worry I know what I’m doing, I think” she finished the sentence under her breath.
Looking at the rear view mirror the entire time she let the three cars get within about thirty feet then she slammed the car into reverse and they both screamed as they exploded backwards smashing through one car and clipping another. Beyond the barricade she again swift as a pro grabbed the handbrake with her left and ripped the wheel with her right.
They were now right way round and heading for the causeway. Lizzie laughed in relief and exhilaration but Matt was nervous. He looked back and saw that the cars weren’t following.
The Range Rover crunched over the causeway with relative ease. They were soon back on the smooth asphalt surface speeding down the road and straight into a road block.
“SHIT!” Lizzie exclaimed slamming the car into reverse. They were trapped, they only made it one hundred yards backwards when they found another road block. There was no way out, and as if to emphasise the fact, four bullets ripped through the air puncturing the tires.

*

Paul had missed all of this, he had slipped back into the cottage and was two flights down just as the other two were leaving the garage. He was full of a powerful need to fix things or at least atone for his life. He was the one who had started this, he was the one responsible it was his fault, he had to fix things.
He searched fruitlessly for what felt like hours, he didn’t come across anything or anyone. He made it back down to the office floor not coming across any one. A door slammed, and Paul hit the floor crawling into the nearest cubicle. He was sure that his breath would give him away it sounded so loud as it left his chest.
A large group of people stomped through the room heading for the stairs, dragging something, two something’s.
“I’ll be glad when these two are finished” said a muffled voice as it passed. He had found them at last, but now what? He waited for thirty seconds after the footsteps had gone then jumped to his feet and came face-to-face with a gun wielding man in a strange blue suit.
“Hi, I’ve come to fix the coffee machine” Paul said with a nervous laugh. The man looked a little shocked and hesitated in lifting his gun, Paul took this opportunity and ran. Life is weird, there is a lyric that sums it up well, “Thieves get rich, saints get shot and God don’t answer prays a lot” Mr Sod and his law sprang to Paul’s head as he ran and tripped over his shoe lace. He crashed to the floor bouncing off of a desk knocking its contents to the floor. He turned to face the guard reaching for anything he could. He grabbed a mug and threw it hard. It crashed into his face and he dropped.
Paul sat panting, trying to gather his thoughts before he planned to set off again. He got up gingerly, mentally dusting himself off. He bent down to pick up the gun but stopped. Instead he picked up a shard of the broken mug that had saved him. A tear prickled in the corner of his eye as he saw that the only picture on the white mug was half an image of Winnie the Pooh, “Thanks Becki” he said as he raced for the stairs.
He could hear voices coming clearly now. They seemed to be chanting in some strange language he had never heard. He sneaked to the door and peered in, clenching the pistol to his chest he inhaled sharply as he saw both Matt and Lizzie at the front of the room. They had been strung up as if being crucified. He stared horrified not able to move. He knew he had to do something, yet he wasn’t able to tear himself away from the brutal poetry he saw in front of him.

Chapter 45

It felt like he had the world’s worst hangover. Matt opened his eyes and tried to look around but couldn’t focus. The room swam and the pain in his head seemed to make his skull vibrate. “Lizzie!” he thought with a shock and forced his eyes open and his mind to focus.
She was next to him tied to what looked like a cross, still unconscious. Matt was puzzled, “What the hell is happening?” he thought, ignoring the pain in his wrists. Finally the pain got itself noticed and Matt looked up. He too was strung up like Jesus minus the nails through his wrists.
“Don’t worry” came a voice from below him.
Matt looked down and for the first time noticed the eight, nine, ten people in the room with them. If he didn’t know any better Matt may have thought at first glance that they were in a church or Cathedral. The ceiling was defiantly arched reaching high into the rock. The only exception was that there was no ceiling. The walls seemed to reach up so high that they met at the top. It was then that he noticed that they weren’t walls, it was bedrock that surrounded them. Matt couldn’t help but wonder whether it was a natural space or if it had been carved out of the cliff.
A voice came, again from below him,
“You have the honour of witnessing the birth of a new dawn, a new world order will rise from the pitiful existence you have infected this world with”
Matt could see now, his eyes had cleared sufficiently to see who was talking. It was an old man with tanned leathery skin, dressed like the pope except his robes were the deepest blue.

Joshua stood in front of the two crosses, his heart pounding with excitement and yet there was still a little hint of worry somewhere inside.
“It’s ironic that you three should have the pleasure of welcoming them” he shouted with pride.
Then he saw the look on Matt's face and felt angry as he saw him laughing.
“You dare laugh, you laugh at the time of our commencement?” he cried as he lunged forward meaning to attack. He was held back by three men, all trying to calm him down.
“Don’t sir, he means to distract us he means to deceive you, it is almost time” said a timid voice as he regained his composure.
They were right of course, there could be only one attempt at the summoning. “Which one to choose though” he thought as he pulled the bronze knife from its sheath. They had all ways planned to keep them separate, they only ever needed one. In fact he had orders to keep them apart for this. But they were sufficiently bound, the girl was still unconscious, what could possibly happen?
Yes, he would use both, maybe the summoning would happen quicker than prophesised. There was only thirty seconds before it was meant to happen so he stepped forward, knife out in front of him ready.
A small incision into the boy’s leg, Matt let out a small gasp of pain as blood dripped onto the blade. Then a small incision into the girls leg, time seemed to slow as droplets of blood glided down Lizzie’s smooth skin towards the blade.
The instant the two mixed on the bronze something fantastic happened. Something went through Matt's body, some kind of energy, it was wonderful.
He could almost feel Lizzie inside of him, her essence flowing though him. He looked to his left and saw she was awake and knew when their eyes met that she felt the same. Something had happened, apparently something the two of them alone had noticed. The old man had a smile on his face and was walking between them to a bowl that was standing alone in the vast open cavern.
“NO!” screamed Matt as he tried to pull free from the ropes that held him. The amazing thing was that they snapped, he was free. The men came running towards him as he jumped down.
Joshua hadn’t turned back to face them,
“We need them no longer, kill them both” he ordered still concentrating on the task at hand.

Paul had watched all of this from the doorway and the second Matt jumped down he seized his chance and charged though the door. He clubbed one person around the back of the head and one in the stomach before he remembered that he was in-fact holding a gun.
A third person came charging towards him and before he knew what had happened he had pulled the trigger.
The figure took a couple more steps towards him. A look of shock emblazoned on his face then nothing as he lumped forward. Time had slowed to a crawl as he watched life leave the man that he had shot. His mind was screaming in pain and remorse but his body fell to its knees, staring at the corpse. In the far distance he heard some one calling his name but he didn’t care. Then someone grabbed him around his neck pulling him to his feet.

Lizzie was running on pure adrenaline as she too ripped away the rope that bound her and jumped to the floor. She could see Matt wrestling with three men, she could see Paul storm in through the door. She watched him hit the first two before she was confronted with her own fight. A woman stepped forward, a look of pure hatred in her eyes. Lizzie sighed,
“Just because I’m a girl you’re who I get” she said angrily, but lost focus when she heard the gunshot. Her first instinct was to look for Matt, he was still fighting so she searched for Paul. He was knelt down in front of a body, the look that scared her so much fixed on his face. She started towards him but the woman had stepped into her path.
“Not now” she said not even breaking stride as with one punch she knocked the robed woman out.
“Paul!” she shouted as someone had stepped up behind him and pulled him up by his neck.

“ENOUGH” shouted Joshua as loud as he could. Lizzie stopped mid-stride and was immediately grabbed by two men. Matt stopped as well when he saw the gun at Paul’s head. But then something distracted him, he could have sworn he saw figures around the edge of the room.
“It is done, you three, you have been more trouble than you are worth. Your destiny was entwined with our rise to power, the three corners of destiny, so powerful yet so stupid” he laughed the last sentence.
“Please” the word left Paul’s mouth before his brain realised he was going to say it.
“Please, I’m the one you want. They mean nothing, let them go” Paul pleaded as he looked at the two people who had at last brought meaning to his life.
Joshua laughed and shoved him away. Paul turned to face him, trying to muster up every last ounce of courage.
“You? Important? I see the rubbish we have been feeding the delightful Professor Whyte, who, my dear, will be dealt with any minute now” he looked at Lizzie as he said the last part.
He looked back to Paul,
“You are pathetic, you don’t Matter, you are nothing but the guide, it was your job to keep these two safe but you failed. You brought them to us just as it was prophesised. You worthless excuse for a man, you don’t deserve life” sometimes Joshua took great pleasure in his job and this was one of those times, as he said the words and raised the gun.

Paul barely registered the pain, he heard the three shots and Matt's scream but didn’t feel the pain. He felt as though he was listening to everything in slow motion and under water. He turned towards Lizzie, a look of horror on her face and tears streaming down her cheeks. He then touched one palm to his chest, it came away hot and sticky. His mind was buzzing but nothing was happening. The ground then seemed to get closer, the ceiling came into view.
“What happened?” he thought

Matt saw it coming, Lizzie did too. Before the second shot had been fired Matt had released himself from his captors, one knocked to the floor, one left stunned by what had happened and the other in pursuit.
Five giant strides and Matt was kneeling at his side, cradling him like a baby.
“Hey, buddy, how are you feeling?” was all he could think to say.
“Matt, there you are. I’ve been looking for you” He whispered coarsely.
But before Matt could reply, a fourth bullet echoed round the room and a hole appeared in Paul’s forehead.
“Enough, sentiment” Joshua said angrily.

Lizzie, felt all the sadness temporarily leave her body as anger coursed through her. She could see the same thing happening to Matt. His eyes seemed to glow as if they were real emeralds. Dropping Paul, he jumped to his feet, for a moment ready to fight, ready to die but he caught sight of Lizzie struggling and flew towards her, gun shots ringing out but none connecting. By the time he reached her she had dealt with one of them and was wrestling with the other.
“Hit the floor” Matt shouted as he came close. Obediently she did and Matt clothes-lined the second man, grabbing Lizzie as he went past.
Again he could see ghost like figures skirting the walls, this worried him he thought he was finnally going crazy.
“Don’t worry, I can see them too” Lizzie called, noticing the look on his face.
The door was feet away, Matt reached out his free arm and pushed it open, pulling Lizzie in his wake. They raced off down the corridor in the complete wrong direction for the stairs.

“After them!” screamed Joshua, furious that not a single bullet had hit. The remaining Chinju fled from the room in chase, Joshua behind them reloading his gun. The door slammed shut and the noise echoed round the room looking for ears so it could be heard. The only ones it could find were now full of blood. The echo of the door floated away unheard, leaving the lonely figure of Paul sprawled on his own in his cold cavernous tomb.

*

The professor staggered down the road as fast as he could. Paul had told him not to look back, not to wait for him, he would be right behind him.
Eventually he made it into town but it was now fairly late in the day so the shops were shut. He searched fruitlessly for a phone box, he had to call the police. “Damn mobile phones” he muttered to himself as he searched in vain.
Just on the verge of giving up, he heard voices coming from a little further up the road. He peered into the gloom and saw that a building was still lit up and clearly open. The closer he got the more hopeful he became. The library, he saw the shelves of books through the window. It had been one of his favourite places when he was young and it just might be his life saver now. He could hear actual conversations now, but they were then drowned out by screaming engines. Two 4x4s raced towards him. He turned to see another two coming up behind, then a further two coming from his right, he was trapped. Resigned to his fate, he peered back up the road in a desperate attempt to see if Paul was there.


Chapter 45

They raced round a corner and hit a dead end. It was Lizzie’s turn to lead now, as she pulled him through a door they found themselves in a large kitchen. Every surface clean and shiny, it was no good hiding in here, they may as well hide in front of a mirror. So they kept going through and out the other side.
It was then that luck finally caught up with them, in the form of a lift. They stopped in front of it almost vibrating in anticipation, waiting for the lift doors to open, each of them taking it in turns to hit the button. The “ding” of the lift doors opening was followed by shouts coming from the kitchen they had just left. Before he was completely in, Matt started to tap the button for door close.
“What floor do we want?” he said in a panic
“I don’t know” Lizzie said thinking.
“We don’t know if there are anymore cars. Hang on, how did you get in?” she asked
Matt hit the button for the second floor and said
“How are you with heights?”

Joshua couldn’t keep up with the others so he decided to pull back to the security room and update them via radio. Panting heavily, he left the others and headed for the stairs. Half way up, his phone began to ring. He had known the call was coming but it still terrified him.
“Hello” he answered panting
“Joshua, you are out of breath, is everything ok?” came a foreign voice on the other end.
“Yes, it all went according to plan, the summoning has commenced.”
“Good, good, and the triangle?” a knowing voice asked the question.
“One has been killed, the others will be dealt with soon” Joshua realised he was sweating as he answered.
“Good, make sure it is done before they get off the island” the line was disconnected before Joshua had a chance to answer. He looked at the phone, dumbfounded, how could he possibly know?
Shaking the thought from his mind he entered the security room and searched the screens. Within seconds he was shouting orders down the radio,
“They got out on the second floor. I want them dead. If you fail I will take your lives instead” he screamed not able to hide the note of panic from his voice.
He didn’t notice Hunt standing in the door way and when he did he ignored him.
Hunt coughed but Joshua ignored him. He coughed again and Joshua threw him a vile look.
“What do you want?” he spat his eyes flicking back to the screens.
“I came to apologise” Hunt sneered without any hint of remorse.
“What do you mean...?” Joshua stopped mid sentence.
“You called them, you went over my head” he could barely control his furry.
“Yes. It needed to be done, I believe you have lost control” he snapped.
“I have been given written orders to hand to you” Hunt stepped forward hand out stretched.
Joshua didn’t take the envelope Hunt had in his hand. He thrust it forward, trying to force it into Joshua’s grasp. Begrudgingly, he took it.
With trembling fingers he ripped open the package and pulled out the paper. He could see Hunt’s eyes light up. It was clear he expected to take Joshua’s place.
Joshua read the words three times before looking back at Hunt.
Hunt stared, trying to gleam any scrap of information he could from Joshua’s expression but nothing came.
Joshua stepped round from behind his desk. With nimble fingers he picked up a pair of scissors and hid them behind his wrist.
Hunt saw none of this. His mind was racing with possibilities. He must have succeeded; the power must now surely be his. Joshua handed Hunt the piece of paper. Greedily he consumed the information it contained. This wasn’t right! He looked up just in time to see the glint of the scissors.
For the briefest moment his left eye could see the scissors protruding out of his right. He was still trying to understand when his brain finally turned off.
Joshua turned back to the monitors angry that this had pulled him away from the search. As he headed back he left a bloody boot print on the sheet of paper in Hunt’s hand. The paper contained only four words “Clean up your house”
This interruption and his desperate search for Matt and Lizzie meant he didn’t see a lone figure re-enter the hall.

The purple woman had watched the whole thing on one of the monitors, now she was furious. She did the job with out questioning her orders, she was chosen for it so she knew what must be done. Since she was small ever since she had lost her parents she had been raised to believe in the Chinju prophecy, but now she wasn’t sure.
Slowly she made her way over to where Paul lay, catching a glimpse of herself in a tall gothic mirror that hung from the far wall. How she wished she could remember her name, more importantly she wished she could change her hair colour. She really hated being referred to as the purple woman, she didn’t even like purple.
She stood staring at Paul’s body, and for the first time in her life a tear fell from her eye landing on his chest, just over his heart. Only one fell but it was enough for her to make up her mind.
She had watched this man, for months, years. She had seen his lonely existence, seen him work through his problems, fall in love and then deal with his grief.
It was the day of his girlfriends funeral that knew she was in love with this man. The man that she had been brought up to believe was evil, and who’s only purpose was to lead the other two to their destiny. She couldn’t help it, she never knew love for real, but she was sure that what she felt that day was real. That was why she had tampered with his engine the night he saved the girl from the rapist, why she had left the disc with the symbol on it and why now she would not leave his body here on its own.

*

Matt, peered out of the lift to see if it was safe. He felt as though he had been running his entire life as he and Lizzie yet again made a break for freedom. They ran through passages and corridors until they made it back into the open plan office. Only this time it was full of men in shirts and ties, women wearing patent black high heel shoes. All of them starred at the two figures as hey ran through their midst. Not one of them spoke of attempted to stop them, they just watched as they ran. Then a shot fired out, a coffee cup exploded in an elderly woman’s hand. No one screamed, no one ran, they just stood in shock.
“Everyone down on the ground” came a loud voice as seven armed men exploded into the room. The office workers obediently did what they were told and in seconds Matt and Lizzie were running through a shower of bullets. Again not one of them hit, the men chasing them angrily started running again, reloading for another attempt.
The door slammed shut behind them and a volley of thuds smacked into the wood.
“What are we doing in here?” Lizzie asked as she spied the mop and bucket. But her question was answered as Matt pushed the back open and he stepped out into a dark passage.
Matt tried to remember the bumps and dips of the uneven ground but failed miserably. He stumbled a couple of times taking Lizzie with him on each trip.

*

Back in the open plan office three of their pursuers were about to enter the cupboard when Joshua’s voice came through the radio.
“Don’t follow, I have sent another group out all ready, they will intercept them on the cliff face. Come back up here and meet me in the garage”

Soon they could see the light at the end. It was getting dark outside but there was just enough light for them to make their way to the edge. Matt peered over the side at the path he had taken to get up here, and swayed. It didn’t seem that steep on the way up.
Lizzie came up beside him and gasped,
“NO way in hell am I going down there” she said sharply.
“I know” Matt replied sheepishly, “it didn’t seem that steep before”
He turned to see how far they were from the top of the cliff when something sharp scratched his face. He instinctively raised his hand and felt a small trickle of blood running down his cheek like a tear. They both then heard a series of soft thumps from just below their feet. They looked down and could just see a small group of people standing at the bottom of the cliff shooting at them. There was no other way, they would have to climb. Matt was about to try and talk Lizzie into the ascent when they heard shouts getting closer. She sprang forward and, with surprising speed, began to climb. Matt soon followed but was caught on something. At first he wasn’t sure but turned back to see that Lawford had hold of his leg.
“Oh no you don’t!” he snarled as he attempted to wrench Matt of the rock.
Lizzie began to throw small pieces of rock, trying to hit Lawford from twenty feet above them. Three of them hit Matt in the top of the head,
“stop, please” he said still trying to get free, “Just keep going” he pleaded.
“It’s no good, you know, we have already achieved phase one. The only thing left is to kill you” Lawford laughed maniacally.
The only thing Matt could do was drop, so he did, landing firmly on Lawford’s chest. It stunned him for a second but Lawford was swiftly back with it and soon threw Matt off. He was surprisingly strong for such a small squitish man.
Blow after blow landed down on Matt's torso and face. He was preparing for the pain with every blow but it didn’t come, not as much as he had expected any way. He may have been strong for his size but he hit like a girl Matt thought as he launched a powerful foot straight at Lawford’s chest. The policeman staggered backwards, winded, Matt took his chance and jumped back to his feet.
Common sense kicked in then, and instead of launching forward he turned and jumped for the cliff. He clambered up as fast and hard as he could trying to get as far from the insanity as possible. He reached up for a firm hand hold and the cliff came away in his grasp. The piece of rock was a little smaller than the size of an American football, which suited Matt perfectly. Making sure his feet were planted firmly, he grabbed tight hold of the cliff and turned back to Lawford, launching the rock as hard as he could. All the Sundays he had played in his local park, he had never thrown a pass as firm or as accurate as that rock that flew at Lawford. It sailed the fifteen feet and connected hard into his chest. Matt thought he could hear Lawford’s ribs crack, but that didn’t Matter. The force of the pass knocked him off balance, he tripped back and disappeared over the edge of the cliff. Matt didn’t see him land, but he knew he was dead. Not pausing to reflect, Matt turned to catch up with Lizzie, not even sorry.
He tried to catch his breath hoping the rest of the climb would be easy. He looked up ready to call Lizzie, but she wasn’t there. His heart froze in his chest. Where was she? Had she fallen? He was going to turn back and look for her when more gun shots rang out into the evening air.
He looked up and saw Joshua and six others standing waiting for him, with three other coming down the side of the cliff. His brain was split in two. Half trying to figure out which way to go and the other trying to understand where Lizzie had gone.
His heart nearly exploded in his chest through fear when an arm grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a hole in the cliff.
“God damn it woman, you are going to be the end of me” he said a little angry but extremely relieved.
“Come on scaredy-cat” she said smiling, as she led him deeper into the cliff.
They crawled through a tunnel, in which Matt hit his head three times. They soon found themselves in a loft space full of boxes of papers, and folders. Now with room to stand they ran forward along the support beams, looking for a way out. They found the loft entrance, Matt flicking the latch which made the hatch door and connecting ladder crash to the floor. Lizzie was on it and climbing down before it had even stopped rattling. Taking a second to find their bearings, they searched up and down the hall. They were on the floor where Paul had been killed, but they were both so full of panic neither of them noticed that there was nothing in the hall, Paul’s body had gone.
Running past the door and turning round the corner to the staircase, they came face to face with the purple woman. The three of them stood in silence, no one moving. Lizzie looked a little confused but Matt's heart had sunk in his chest. He was ready for her to make her move, when she unexpectedly stepped aside. Not giving it a second thought, Matt grabbed Lizzie’s hand and once more they ran. Matt nodded his head slightly as he passed her and was surprised to see her reciprocate. Matt and Lizzie ran for the stairs and the purple woman walked back towards the garage to the car where Paul was waiting.
Within seconds they were back in the cottage, un familiar surroundings for Matt so Lizzie took control once more. She was about to lead him to the door when Matt caught sight of what awaited them outside.
“Get down!” he shouted and pulled her to the floor just in time. They had machine guns, they were firing machine guns. “This isn’t supposed to happen in real life” Matt shouted as they crawled away from the door. Everything seemed to explode, walls, furniture, china, glass, everything. The bullets kept coming and the room continued to explode, then silence.
Neither of them moved, they didn’t dare, but then the door flew open and again they were in a fight.
Matt leapt to his feet charging at the first gun totting thug. He knocked him to the floor pounding at his face. Matt had no chance, he was concentrating on the one man, so he didn’t see the second one raise the butt of his rifle and bring it down against the back of his heard. The last thing he heard was Lizzie’s scream of rage and terror.
She, like Matt exploded from her hiding space, hitting two men hard in the balls before she was over powered and dragged from the room.
Lizzie was sure Matt was dead, she was surely now on her own. Judging by the look on Joshua’s face, he felt the same.
“I applaud your attempt little girl but you should never have tried to go against us” he said with a confident smile.
Lizzie looked round, Joshua had a pistol in his hand, he was flanked by three men on each side. Eight men in all, including the two that now had her, she was lost.
No one was left to help her and she didn’t know what to do. A tear began to streak across her eye lid, ready to fall.
“No” she whispered under her breath,
“I’m sorry?” Joshua said with a laugh, “I’m sorry what was that?”
“No, you can’t do this, the bad guys don’t win” she said, instantly regretting her words as she looked at the men who were laughing.
“This isn’t a movie little girl, there is no white knight coming for you” he sneered.
“Listen buddy, of all the women you have seen in your pitiful life this is one woman who does not need a white knight believe me” Matt said as he struggled to his feet.
Lizzie’s heart soared as Matt got up and she saw a small flicker of fear flash across Joshua’s face.
“It does not Matter” he said with an increasingly shrill voice, “We will not be stopped” he continued as he raised his gun, pointing it at Lizzie.
In a flash, Matt was running in a desperate attempt to get in between the bullet and her body. The gun shot rang out into the night as Matt collided with Lizzie knocking her to the floor.
Five more shots flew through the air but not a single one hit them, what was happening?
Matt looked up to where Joshua had been standing and saw him on his knees, blood gushing from his shoulder. He looked round and saw five bodies sprawled around him with three others running down the hill in fear. Standing now, he looked round to see where the shots had come from but had no idea. Lizzie stood beside him, looking at Joshua, writhing on the floor.
“What happened?” she asked confused
“No idea” Matt said still looking around.
A new sound filled the air, a helicopter rose up in front of them full of men in army fatigues five men leaned out of the chopper and abseiled down on black nylon ropes. Two of them went straight to Joshua to give him medical attention. The other three came towards them.
“Are You Elizabeth Whyte and Matthew Preston?” asked one of the soldiers as Matt and Lizzie were both given blankets. All they could do was nod.
“Good, my name is Lieutenant Hopkiss, British Army. We are here to get you to safety” Said another soldier, ushering the two of them towards the helicopter.
Lizzie was fixed into a harness and lifted up to the helicopter, then it was Matt's turn.
They sat in silence as the soldiers rejoined them, one by one coming up the same way they did.
With everyone on board the pilot got the word and they were away.
Stunned, the pair of them watched as there apparent rescuers talked between themselves and into radios.
The one sitting closest to Lizzie was having a conversation with someone on the radio; when he finished he nodded and signalled Lieutenant Hopkiss.
Hopkiss looked at Matt and Lizzie but he couldn’t quite bring him self to say anything.
He turned to the man on his left and said,
“What about the other one? What do we tell them?”
The suited man thought for a second, nodded to himself and leaned forward to talk to Matt and Lizzie. Hopkiss looked at him, the question etched on his face.
“We lie” he said sadly
“You will be pleased to know, we have found your friend, he was left outside the Cambletown Hospital” the suited man said solemnly. Matt and Lizzie looked at each other, a mixture of relief and guilt on both faces, they had forgotten Paul. Then, with a sudden surge of panic, Lizzie tuned to Hopkiss and said,
“My father? what about my father?”
“Yes, we have him as well, we picked him up just outside the library” Hopkiss actually smiled as he replied.
Lizzie sat back, her relief letting exhaustion flow into her. She looked out of the window and caught sight of other soldiers, some with sniper rifles, emerging from the surrounding countryside. She turned to Matt and with a lazy smile said,
“So it’s all over yes?”
Before Matt could say anything an American voice called out from the far corner,
“No I’m afraid it’s not!”


The End

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