Till Sudden Death Do Us Part Read online

  I sat down on the bed, and gestured for Penny to sit next to me. She did so, and I lowered my voice; even though I could tell there was no one else nearby. Some learned cautions can’t be unlearned.

  ‘Black Heir isn’t like the Organization, Penny. They don’t investigate mysteries, solve problems, or help people in trouble. Their sole remit is to tidy up after close encounters. Repair any damage, remove any bodies, make sure there’s no evidence left and salvage any useful tech.’

  Penny couldn’t keep the grin off her face. ‘You really were Men In Black!’

  ‘Trust me,’ I said. ‘It was nothing like the films. And sometimes we had to deal with what was left of the people who’d been involved in these situations.’

  Penny stopped smiling. She lowered her voice too, as though she didn’t want anyone to hear what she was saying. And perhaps because she wasn’t sure she was going to approve of what I might say in response.

  ‘Did you threaten these people? Intimidate them into not talking? Ishmael, are you saying you …?’

  ‘We talked to them,’ I said. ‘Showed them faked evidence, to persuade them they hadn’t seen what they thought they saw. If that didn’t work, standard operating procedure was to encourage them with wild theories, and then put them in touch with the more extreme alien contact groups. So nothing they said would ever be taken seriously.’

  ‘That sounds a bit cruel,’ said Penny.

  ‘It was for their own protection,’ I said. ‘And everyone else’s. Humanity is better off not knowing about some of the things they share this planet with. But all we ever did was talk. We never raised a hand to anybody.’

  ‘Then what is Robert so worried about?’ said Penny.

  I chose my words carefully. ‘No Black Heir field agent ever had direct contact with aliens. I never even saw one from a distance.’

  ‘Did you want to?’

  ‘I thought about it a lot, but … in the end I decided I was better off not pushing my luck. I couldn’t risk coming into contact with something that might wake my other self. And besides that … People who did have direct contact with aliens often ended up damaged. Physically and mentally. There were chemical spills, radiations we didn’t even have names for, and sometimes …’

  ‘What did you do with those people?’ said Penny. ‘The damaged ones?’

  ‘The Government maintains a special hospital and secret holding centre on the Isle of Wight,’ I said. ‘Where people can be kept in strict isolation. It’s called the Hazard Asylum.’

  ‘And these people stay there, until they’re well enough to go home?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever gone home,’ I said. ‘Because we don’t know how to repair the physical and mental damage caused by things not of this Earth. All we can do is care for them, as best we can, for as long as we can.’

  Penny looked at me. ‘Is it … a bad place?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I was never sent there, and all files concerning the Asylum were heavily restricted. I heard stories, but there are always stories.’ I stopped for a moment, to make sure my voice was steady before I continued. ‘I used to have nightmares. All the time I was working for Black Heir. That one day I would be ordered to escort someone to the Asylum; and once I was inside they’d say “We know what you are”. And I’d never get to go home again.’

  I had to stop. Penny held my hand, giving me time to collect myself.

  ‘Robert was always the one who decided which people could be helped, and which needed to be sent away,’ I said finally. ‘He knew I couldn’t do that.’

  Penny looked at me for a long moment, too shocked to speak. ‘That nice old man decided who got locked up for life?’ she said finally. ‘Just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time?’

  ‘It had to be done!’ I said sharply. ‘They were too damaged to survive on their own, and too dangerous to other people to be allowed to run loose. The Asylum could keep them alive; and keep them from hurting anyone else.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Penny. ‘What do you mean, when you say damaged?’

  ‘Most of the aliens who come here are nothing like the things you see in films and on television,’ I said. ‘They’re not cute like ET, or on Star Trek where they’re just people with pointed ears and bumps on their noses. Most aliens are so different from what we think of as life, that any kind of contact is actually toxic. I’m talking about the kind of damage where dying would be kinder. Why do you think I have so many nightmares about what I used to be, before I was made human? Why I’m so scared of what I might do if it ever wakes up, and gets out?’

  ‘And Robert sent these people to the Asylum,’ said Penny. ‘Have any of them ever escaped?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. But if one of them got out, and has come here looking for revenge …’

  Penny didn’t look at me. She had a lot to think about.

  ‘Are there many of these close encounters to clean up after?’ she said finally.

  ‘More than you’d think,’ I said. ‘That’s why the Government needs a whole department just to stay on top of them.’

  ‘How long has this been going on for?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone knows for sure.’

  ‘But … Why do all these aliens keep coming here?’ said Penny.

  ‘A lot of people would like to know the answer to that one,’ I said. ‘I believe there’s a war going on. Out there. And we’re just caught in the middle, like one of those small islands in the Pacific back in the Second World War. Where the opposing armies came and went, fighting their battles, and the native islanders never did understand what it was all about.’

  Penny shuddered suddenly. ‘That’s scary.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It is.’

  I left Penny to unpack the suitcases, while I went across the landing and into the bathroom. She needed some time alone, to think; and I didn’t want to talk any more. I’d worked hard to have a human life, while doing my best to protect Humanity from monsters like me. I looked into the mirror over the bathroom sink. I looked tired, drawn, haunted. My face might still be young, but my eyes were old. I ran some cold water into the sink, and splashed it across my face. It wasn’t as refreshing as I’d hoped, but it made me feel like I was doing something. When I raised my head to look back into the mirror, my other self was there.

  I froze. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. My original self was back, and there was nothing I could do to make it go away. The mirror grew larger, expanding in all directions as my other self pressed forward, trying to force its way through. It grew bigger and bigger, looming over me. Every nightmare I’d ever had, only real. Horror in the flesh, awful beyond bearing. My inner demon, from some alien hell. It was trying to say something to me but I couldn’t understand. I didn’t want to understand. I squeezed my eyes shut and refused to believe what was happening. Fighting it with all my will.

  When I could finally bear to open my eyes again, the mirror was back to normal. There was nothing in the reflection but my human face, bone white and dripping with sweat. My eyes were wide, and my mouth was trembling. My whole body was shaking so badly I had to put both hands on the sink to support myself. Why was my old self rising up now, out of the depths of my mind? What was it trying to tell me? That my time was over, and I needed to step aside? I straightened up, shaking my head. Never. I had worked so hard to be human. It was all I’d ever been, and all I ever wanted to be. I wouldn’t give it up. I would live as a man, and if need be die as a man; to keep the beast from breaking out of its cage.

  Penny’s voice came to me from across the landing, from another life.

  ‘Ishmael? Is everything all right?’

  I reached for the towel to dry my face, and when I answered Penny my voice was perfectly calm and normal.

  ‘I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’ll be with you in a moment.’

  Not long after, I went downstairs with Penny. She could tell something was wrong, but since I was refusing t
o talk about it, she couldn’t either. What could I say to her? That I was damaged; and should have been sent to the Hazard Asylum?

  ‘Let’s just concentrate on the job at hand,’ I said, staring straight ahead. I’ve always found it easier to lie to Penny when I don’t have to look her in the eye. ‘We need to find whoever killed the vicar before they can get to Robert’s daughter. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Penny. ‘We can do that.’

  When we got to the foot of the stairs Robert was there waiting for us. He offered me two paperback books, both about the Bergin curse. I took them from him and studied the covers. The more garish of the two showed a huge mansion house at night, surrounded by shadows, with a light blazing from one window. A pretty young woman in a frilly nightdress was running from the house. The book was called, The Bergin Curse. The tagline: What terrible secret was revealed on her wedding night? The other book at least tried for a more sober approach. The cover showed a series of tombstones, all bearing the Bergin name. The title was: A Bloodline of Murder. The tagline: The facts behind the Bergin legend.

  ‘These two cover the basics best, in their own ways,’ said Robert.

  I stuffed the books into my jacket pockets, for later. ‘They look interesting.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be very useful,’ Penny said kindly. ‘Thank you, Robert.’

  ‘There’s a taxi waiting outside, to take you into town,’ said Robert. ‘I’ve phoned ahead to The Swan to tell Gillian you’re on your way. I told her you’re here to help, and that she can trust you.’

  ‘We’ll be back later this evening,’ I said. ‘Hopefully we’ll have more to talk about then.’

  Penny and I went outside, and the first thing I noticed was that it was getting dark. A cheerful voice addressed us from the waiting taxi. The driver was a large woman in an Atomic Blonde T-shirt and a battered black leather jacket. She had a broad happy face and a mop of straw-yellow curls that looked thick enough to break any comb that came near it.

  ‘Hello, Ishmael, hello Penny! I’m Cathy! Hop in; Mr Bergin’s told me all about you!’

  ‘I doubt that,’ I said.

  Penny elbowed me in the ribs. I looked back at the front door, but Robert had already closed it. I headed for the taxi, with Penny sticking close beside me.

  ‘This should be interesting,’ she said.

  ‘I hate interesting,’ I growled.

  ‘Climb aboard for the mystery tour!’ Cathy said grandly. ‘The real mystery being how we can provide such excellent service at such reasonable prices. Come on, shake a leg! I don’t bite! Not on a first date, anyway.’

  I looked at Penny. ‘I think I preferred the other ride.’

  ‘Play nicely, Ishmael,’ said Penny, smiling determinedly. ‘It’s a long walk into town. And don’t say anything to upset the driver. She looks like she could crush both of us with one thumb.’

  We climbed into the back of the taxi. The seats were comfortable, and there were seatbelts. Cathy actually waited until we were settled before turning the taxi around in a tight arc and heading back to town. The last of the light was dropping out of the day, and the first traces of mist appeared in the taxi’s headlights. The lights from the town glowed in the distance, like beacons in the night. Cathy had already pushed the glass partition back, so she could chat cheerfully to us over her shoulder.

  ‘So! You know Mr Bergin! Good for you. Everyone around here knows Mr Bergin. His family goes way back. The local churchyard is so full of his ancestors we’re having to bury new bodies on top of each other, just to fit them in. Mr Bergin’s dad went to school with my dad, and I went to school with his daughter.’

  ‘You and Gillian are friends?’ said Penny.

  ‘On and off,’ said Cathy. ‘She was always one of the cool kids, while I settled for being popular. Or easy, if you prefer. So, are you guys here for the wedding? Or the murder?’

  ‘We’re wedding guests,’ I said. ‘Though of course we are interested in the murder. What have you heard?’

  ‘Just the essentials,’ said Cathy. ‘The vicar got his neck stretched in church, like the old witch, and now the whole town’s panicking. Thinking the curse has come back to get them. Everyone’s got their own take on what happened, but no one knows anything. Except that the murderer is still out there, somewhere.’

  ‘Is that why there’s hardly anyone about?’ said Penny.

  ‘Of course! What do you expect?’ said Cathy. ‘The killer could be anyone! Everyone with any sense is staying inside, barricading their doors and nailing their windows shut.’

  ‘But you’re not scared?’ I said.

  Cathy laughed heartily. ‘Anyone even looks at me sideways, I’ll kick him so hard in the nuts they’ll end up in different counties. Everyone around here knows better than to mess with me.’

  ‘Did you know the vicar?’ I said.

  ‘Not really,’ said Cathy. ‘I’m not religious. Except for christenings, weddings and funerals. And Christmas carol services. I do like a good carol. But otherwise, I don’t have the time. I knew the Reverend Allen to speak to, because it’s a small town. You can’t walk round the supermarket without bumping into a dozen people you’d rather avoid. Everyone knows everyone in a town like this, if you get my drift. Not so much a gene pool as a gene puddle. Half the kids in school have the same big ears. And more than a few have the same father, despite who their mothers married. We’re going to have to do something about George. Probably involving a sharp blade or two bricks banged together.’

  ‘About the Reverend Allen …’ said Penny.

  ‘Oh, he was all right,’ said Cathy. ‘For a vicar. Never preached outside the church, and never tried to shove anything down your throat.’ She caught my eye in the rear-view mirror, and dropped me a roguish wink. ‘Not that I would have minded. He looked like he might have been fun, if he could just bring himself to let someone else’s hair down.’

  I waited for her to draw a breath so I could butt in with a question. ‘Do you believe in the Bergin curse?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ said Cathy. ‘That stuff is strictly for the tourists. Though everyone in town is talking about it now.’

  ‘Are there any strangers in town?’ said Penny.

  ‘Not really,’ said Cathy. ‘Tourist season is pretty much over. They come and go with the summer. We’re not on the way to anywhere, so no one’s ever just passing through. Not this far out on the moor. Once it gets to September, we’re mostly just selling stuff to each other so we can survive until summer comes round again. The only new faces right now are people like yourselves, here for the wedding.’

  ‘Who do you think killed the vicar?’ said Penny.

  ‘Beats the hell out of me,’ Cathy said cheerfully. ‘Haven’t a clue. Just like the police, from what I’m hearing. Could be anybody. Which is pretty damned creepy if you think about it. Still, you do hear things these days, about vicars, priests … Not that I ever heard anything like that about the Reverend Allen, and in a town this size you’d be bound to. He seemed nice enough; but then, they always do, don’t they? Killers? You never know who anyone is really, on the inside.’

  ‘Everyone has their secrets,’ I said. ‘Some more than others.’

  ‘Not me!’ Cathy said happily. ‘My whole life is an open book, with all the dirty pages clearly marked. Not to mention very well-thumbed, if I say so myself.’

  ‘Oh look!’ said Penny, with a certain sense of relief. ‘Isn’t that The Swan, right ahead?’

  ‘Well spotted!’ said Cathy.

  She pulled up outside the hotel, right in front of the main entrance. Ignoring the double yellow lines and the prominent No Parking sign. She turned round in her seat, to grin at me and Penny. Rather like a friendly ogre who’d decided not to eat us after all.

  ‘Look, I know everyone and everything that goes on in this town. You need anything, here’s my card. No, wait a minute, that’s my domination services … This card. Call me any time.’

  Penny
took the card, and then looked at me meaningfully.

  ‘I paid for the last taxi.’

  ‘So you did,’ I said.

  I passed Cathy the fare, including a tip nicely calculated to appear grateful but not generous. I wasn’t sure I wanted to encourage Cathy. She didn’t even look at the money, just dropped it into a box beside her seat. Penny and I got out of the taxi, and Cathy fixed me with a grin.

  ‘Have a good time at the wedding; and try not to get murdered!’

  The taxi disappeared off down the road, and it was suddenly very quiet outside the hotel. It took me a moment to come up with just the right comment.

  ‘She was a real …’

  ‘Character,’ Penny said quickly.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m almost certain that was the word I was looking for.’

  We gave The Swan our full attention. Set between a solicitor’s and a florist’s, neither of which seemed to be particularly flourishing, The Swan appeared positively Elizabethan. Old grey stone, half-timbered frontage, with latticed windows and three jutting gables. The whole building had a squat, solid air, as though it had been there for a long time and had no intention of going anywhere. It didn’t look particularly welcoming, but it did seem solid and secure enough to offer a safe haven from the night.

  Once we were inside, the cosy little lobby turned out to be surprisingly modern, with gleaming well-polished wooden surfaces and a parquet floor. The reception desk boasted its own computer, a helpful sign about Wi-Fi, and a whole bunch of tourist brochures. Sitting behind the desk was a middle-aged lady with a bony face, a fixed smile, and a rather obvious blonde wig. She studied Penny and me unblinkingly, like a wolf that had just spotted fresh prey. But before she could say anything a young man and woman hurried forward to greet us.

  Gillian Bergin introduced herself first, in a brisk no-nonsense way. She thrust out a hand for a firm handshake, and then looked us over critically. Gillian was tall and well-built, a good-looking brunette in her late twenties, suggesting she’d been a late child for Robert. She was wearing a smart blue pinstripe suit, and sensible shoes. Her hair was short but stylish, her smile came and went, and she had the look of a woman who knew her own mind. And didn’t have much patience for those who couldn’t keep up with her.