Dead Man Walking Read online

  ‘The grounds are empty, the perimeter is secure. Nothing moving. All quiet.’

  MacKay nodded to me. ‘The surveillance systems should be enough to detect anyone, but there is never any match for human senses and experience.’

  ‘Have either of you seen any ghosts?’ Penny said brightly. ‘Inside the Lodge, or out in the grounds?’

  ‘No,’ said Redd. ‘And neither has anyone else. It’s all in their minds.’

  ‘We were out there looking for real threats,’ said Baxter. ‘No one’s supposed to know Parker is here, but that won’t last.’

  ‘Word always gets out,’ said Redd.

  ‘By then the interrogation should be over,’ MacKay said firmly. ‘And our guest’s identity confirmed, one way or the other. Then he will be on his way somewhere else, and no longer our problem. We only have to keep him safe and secure for a few days.’

  ‘If you aren’t expecting enemy interest just yet,’ I said, ‘who did you think might be out there?’

  ‘Ghost hunters,’ said MacKay, his mouth turning down. ‘They will keep filing questions about supernatural events at the Lodge under the Freedom of Information Act, and demanding access to the house to run their own investigations. Then they get terribly upset when they’re turned down. Sometimes they try to sneak in with their own cameras and equipment to see just what it is we’re hiding from them. Of course, they never get past the security measures.’

  ‘Are you talking about the land mines?’ said Penny. ‘Or the gasses?’

  ‘Neither, miss. That would attract attention. We just throw a good scare into them and they run like rabbits.’

  ‘What do you do?’ said Penny. ‘Dress up in sheets and rattle some chains?’

  MacKay smiled, briefly. ‘I think that would only encourage them, miss.’

  ‘So we’re secure,’ I said. ‘Good to know.’

  ‘Why are you so interested in ghosts?’ said Redd.

  ‘We’ve just been looking at Martin’s evidence of hauntings inside the Lodge,’ said Penny.

  Baxter made a disgusted sound. ‘Oh come on …’

  ‘You’re not a believer?’ I said.

  ‘I haven’t seen anything in all the time I’ve been here,’ Baxter said flatly. ‘It’s just nerves. Nothing out of the ordinary is happening. I’d know.’

  ‘Mr Baxter is a very suspicious man,’ MacKay said solemnly.

  ‘You don’t believe in ghosts?’ said Penny.

  ‘Of course not!’ said Baxter.

  ‘When we shoot people, they stay dead,’ said Redd. ‘That’s sort of the point.’

  ‘Is that all you’ve been doing while we were out working?’ said Baxter. ‘Sitting around watching television?’

  ‘Just trying to get a handle on the situation,’ I said.

  Baxter moved forward so he could glare right into my face. I let him.

  ‘We don’t need you,’ said Baxter. His voice and his face were deliberately unpleasant. ‘You’re just getting in the way. Why don’t you go home and leave the real work to people who know what they’re doing? Go back to wherever useless long streaks of piss like you belong.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Penny. ‘Ishmael, please don’t break him! We’re guests here, and they might make us pay for breakages.’

  ‘Break me?’ said Baxter. ‘Him?’

  He stabbed a finger at me. I grabbed the finger and bent it back, using physical distress as well as leverage to force Baxter down on one knee. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out at the pain and tried to break free. But he couldn’t. Redd started forward, but MacKay stopped him with a look. I smiled down at Baxter.

  ‘I am here because the Organization wants me here,’ I said calmly. ‘To challenge me is to challenge them. Do we understand each other?’

  ‘Let me go!’ said Baxter. His face was white with pain and wet with sweat. ‘You bastard! I’ll …’

  I bent the finger back some more, just short of the breaking point.

  ‘Yes! Yes, I understand!’

  I let go of him and stepped away. Baxter snatched back his injured hand and cradled it against his chest, breathing hard. He glared up at me, and then surged to his feet. Redd was quickly there to take him by the arm and guide him away, murmuring soothing words. I watched them go. As they disappeared into the lounge, it was Redd who shot me one last look. He was the one who I thought would bear watching, the one who could be really dangerous.

  Penny gave me a hard look. ‘Was that really necessary?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You just can’t talk to some people.’

  ‘I am afraid you have made an enemy there, Mr Jones,’ said MacKay.

  ‘We were never going to be friends,’ I said. ‘But who knows, maybe I’ll pull a thorn out of his paw later on.’

  ‘I will speak with Mr Baxter and Mr Redd,’ said MacKay. ‘I will not have dissension in the ranks inside the Lodge.’

  ‘Why was he so angry?’ said Penny. ‘Because he thinks Ishmael is usurping his place?’

  ‘No, miss,’ said MacKay. ‘Because he does believe in ghosts and has seen and heard things, and he doesn’t want to admit it.’

  ‘What about Redd?’ said Penny. ‘Does he believe?’

  ‘A very hard man to read is our Mr Redd,’ said MacKay. ‘He holds his thoughts close to his chest, along with his emotions. Now, the two of you must be tired after your long day’s travelling. Perhaps you would like to take a rest in your room before dinner? Which will be in about an hour. Nothing special, since we are having to look after ourselves. But I can open a can and operate a microwave with the best of them.’

  I looked at Penny and she nodded, so I allowed MacKay to lead us up the stairs at the back of the hall. I don’t get tired, mostly, but Penny does.

  Our room was on the upper floor, the same long corridor we’d seen on Martin’s screen. The place where strange things happened. MacKay led the way, carrying Penny’s suitcase as though it was full of nothing heavier than feathers. Penny looked around interestedly and I did too, but couldn’t see or hear anything out of place. The lights were steady, and so were the shadows. The doors remained firmly shut. Everything was as it should be. I definitely didn’t feel any uncanny atmosphere.

  ‘Most of the rooms are locked up,’ said MacKay. ‘Until the staff return. A guest room has been prepared for you.’

  ‘Just the one?’ said Penny, mischievously.

  MacKay stopped and looked back at us. ‘That is what I was told. If one room is not acceptable …’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I said.

  ‘Just thought I should say something,’ said Penny. ‘I don’t like to be taken for granted.’

  ‘No one would dare,’ I assured her.

  MacKay took us to a room at the far end of the corridor, and opened the door and ushered us in. He dropped Penny’s suitcase on the floor with a loud thud and gestured vaguely around the room as if introducing it to us.

  ‘I will bang the gong in the hall when it’s time for dinner.’

  ‘Will Mr Parker be joining us?’ said Penny.

  ‘Only in spirit, miss.’

  He inclined his head and left, closing the door firmly behind him. I dropped my backpack on the floor and wandered round the room checking it out, while Penny muscled her suitcase up and on to the bed. The room seemed comfortable enough, if essentially characterless. Just a neat impersonal setting, for people who wouldn’t be there long. The adjoining bathroom was so small there was barely room to swing a toilet duck. Penny unpacked her suitcase, happily spreading its contents across the bed and around the room.

  ‘Spotted anything out of the ordinary?’ she asked, without looking up from what she was doing.

  ‘Not so far.’

  ‘Any surveillance cameras?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. I pointed out the obvious one over the door, and the better-hidden one over the bed.

  Penny pulled a face. ‘OK, that’s kind of creepy. I thought there’d be a way for us to turn them off. Since we�
��re guests here, not prisoners.’

  ‘There is,’ I said. I opened my backpack, took out a pair of thick socks, and draped one carefully over each camera. ‘See?’

  Penny looked at each sock in turn, and frowned dubiously. ‘Will they be enough?’

  ‘They’re heavy socks,’ I said.

  Penny peered into my backpack. ‘You really did bring just a change of clothes. Tell me you brought some extra underwear, as well as socks.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘But they don’t block off surveillance so well.’

  ‘You found those cameras pretty quickly,’ said Penny.

  ‘I have a lot of experience when it comes to finding hidden things. Particularly things other people don’t want me to find. I could rip the cameras out, but they’d just install new ones the moment we leave the room.’ I sat down beside her on the bed and leaned in close so I could murmur in her ear. ‘There are bound to be hidden microphones, as well. So be careful what you say out loud.’

  Penny grinned. ‘You know I can get just a bit noisy, under the right circumstances …’

  ‘Exhibitionist!’ I said.

  We kept our heads close together and our voices low.

  ‘So,’ said Penny. ‘What do you make of the others?’

  ‘Hayley and Doyle are clearly more than just work colleagues,’ I said. ‘And very keen to make a name for themselves. I have a feeling their ambitions may be more important to them than getting the truth out of Parker.’

  ‘Well spotted,’ said Penny. ‘Did you also happen to notice that Baxter and Redd are an item?’

  I looked at her. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. They way they looked at each other, they way they acted with each other. It was obvious.’

  I shrugged. ‘I was more concerned with whether or not they were going to beat the crap out of me.’

  ‘Mr MacKay seemed nice enough. When he wasn’t threatening to murder Frank Parker.’

  ‘You mean polite. There’s a difference. Still, a good man to have in charge. Especially if there’s a crisis. I’m not so sure about Philip Martin.’

  ‘Seemed like a typical techie geek to me.’

  ‘One who believes in ghosts?’

  ‘And tries to get recordings of them …’

  Then we broke off, our heads snapping round, as outside in the corridor the sound of slow, steady footsteps grew louder and louder. Heading towards us. We were both up and off the bed in a moment, standing together facing the door.

  ‘Could that be MacKay?’ Penny said tentatively. ‘Coming back to tell us something?’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like MacKay,’ I said.

  The footsteps were louder and heavier than any human being should be capable of making. Unless he was eight-foot tall and carrying an anvil in each hand. There was something oddly deliberate and measured about the sounds. As if whoever was making them wanted to be heard. They came closer and closer. I looked at Penny, but she seemed more intrigued than scared. I moved over to the door as quietly as I could and took hold of the handle. I waited till the footsteps were right outside our room, then jerked the door open and charged out into the corridor. Penny was right behind me.

  The corridor was completely empty, and silent. I looked from one end to the other, but there was no sign that anyone had ever been there. I felt the hackles stir on the back of my neck, like a cold caress.

  ‘Could he have slipped into one of the other rooms?’ said Penny.

  ‘All the other doors are locked, remember?’ I tilted my head back and sniffed the air. ‘No human scents …’

  ‘You’re weird, sometimes,’ said Penny. ‘So, what do you think that was?’

  ‘Obviously we’re meant to think it was a ghost,’ I said. ‘Even if it is a bit early in the evening.’

  ‘Is it?’ said Penny. ‘Remember that shadow on the wall in broad daylight?’

  ‘My first reaction,’ I said, ‘is that someone is messing with us. Trying to keep our minds off Parker.’

  Penny shrugged. ‘Whatever it was, it’s gone now. There’s nothing we can do, so let’s have a nice lie-down before dinner.’

  ‘And get some rest?’

  ‘Not necessarily …’

  FOUR

  Dead Man Walking

  I dreamed of a time before I was me. Before there was any Ishmael Jones. I was staggering across a field in the middle of nowhere. Desperate to get away from something that would destroy me if I looked back. It was night and the sky was full of stars, looking down on me like friends I’d left behind. The full moon bathed the scene in a shimmering blue-white glare, watching over me like a single great eye. The whole world seemed fresh and new, but that was just me. Because I’d only just been born, and thrust into this world to survive as best I could.

  The recently ploughed earth shook and shuddered under my feet. Behind me terrible sounds were abroad in the night, as something huge heaved and rolled, disturbing the earth as it forced its way underground. And despite everything my instincts were screaming at me, I stopped and looked back. To see the massive alien starship burrow deep into the dark earth, hiding its presence from the world.

  I couldn’t see the ship clearly. It was too big, too complex, for human eyes to cope with. Or perhaps it took more than eyes to comprehend all it was. The broken earth rose and fell like solid waves as the ship disappeared from sight, plunging down into the depths of the world. Into some dark and secret place no one would ever think to look for it. I turned away and staggered on across the open field. Some inner knowledge told me I needed to get away, get far away, before anyone came looking. I couldn’t afford to be found until I had understood who and what I was now …

  Things changed suddenly, as they do in dreams. I was somewhere else, in some hotel room, looking at my new face in a mirror. I’d travelled a long way before I got my head together, and I no longer remembered where that field had been. Or the marvellous alien ship that had fallen from the stars like an angel with broken wings, to crash in a field in south-west England. Leaving me as the only surviving member of its crew. Before it disappeared, the ship’s transformation machine had changed me into a human being; altered everything about me, right down to the genetic level. So I could survive on this new world, as a human among humans. Except the mechanism had been damaged in the crash. The change was successful, but it had wiped all my old memories. So I no longer remembered who and what I was before I woke up as me.

  I looked into the mirror, at the face the machine had given me. Just an ordinary man, with an ordinary face. Mid-twenties, unremarkable, nothing to make me stand out in a crowd. Then slowly the face faded away, leaving nothing behind. I stared into the dark depths of the empty mirror, and it seemed to me that something else was rising up out of that darkness. Another face, the face I had before I was born. And I knew I really didn’t want to see it; I didn’t want to know what was still hiding inside me.

  I sat bolt upright in bed, making harsh incoherent sounds, shaking and shuddering. The guest room at Ringstone Lodge snapped into focus around me as Penny turned on the bedside light. I swallowed hard, my heart racing. While the thing I hadn’t seen slipped steadily, blessedly, back into the depths of my mind. Penny took me in her arms and hugged me to her, fiercely, protectively. Murmuring comforting words, and reassuring me with her human presence. My breathing slowed and I stopped shaking. Penny let go and sat back, so she could look searchingly into my eyes.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘I’m back. It’s over.’

  ‘No it isn’t,’ she said. ‘You’ve been having that dream on and off for as long as I’ve known you. Is this why you never want me to sleep over?’

  ‘Why should both of us have to suffer?’ I said. ‘It isn’t fair on you to have to see me like this.’

  ‘Like what?’ she said gently. ‘Being human?’

  We shared a small smile. I lay back down again, and she snuggled up against me. I put an arm around her shoulders and held her close. We were both naked. Me, because
I hadn’t brought any pyjamas; and Penny because she never wore any. She didn’t like the way they crept up on her in the night while she slept and tried to wrap her up like a mummy. Penny rested her head on my chest and murmured reassuring things. I let her. Because I needed to hear them, and because she needed to feel she could help.

  ‘Is it always the same dream?’ Penny asked, after a while.

  ‘Pretty much,’ I said. ‘Because it’s not a dream, it’s a memory. Trying to force its way back into my head.’

  ‘How long has this … memory been troubling you?’

  ‘Since I first arrived in your world. In 1963.’

  ‘Would it really be so bad if you did remember?’ said Penny.

  ‘There’s an old story,’ I said. ‘Of a wise man who woke from a dream of being a butterfly. But then he wondered, was he a man who’d thought he was a butterfly? Or was he a butterfly dreaming he was a man? Penny … Sometimes I wonder if I’m just something that dreamed it was a man and loved it. And I am so scared of waking up …’

  ‘Hush, hush, darling.’ Penny put her fingertips on my mouth to quiet me. ‘You are Ishmael Jones, because that’s who you chose to be. The man you made yourself into, day by day. Nothing else matters.’

  But the nagging fear remained. What if I was not a man? What if I was just a cage for something worse?

  We dozed for a while, and then we both sat bolt upright in bed as an alarm bell suddenly started ringing. Loud and strident and urgent. Penny looked at me.

  ‘Does that sound like a fire alarm to you?’

  I sniffed at the air. ‘I’m not getting smoke, or anything burning. The alarm’s coming from downstairs. I think it’s Security throwing a tantrum.’

  ‘Could Parker have escaped?’ said Penny. ‘Or been attacked?’

  ‘Let’s go ask somebody,’ I said. ‘It’s not like either of us is going to get any more sleep.’

  We were both quickly out of bed, and pulling on the clothes we’d left scattered across the floor on our way to bed. I finished dressing first, because I don’t care what I look like, and shot a quick glance at the two socks to make sure they were still covering the cameras. I unlocked the door, Penny breathing impatiently on my neck, and we hurried out into the corridor. My ears pricked up as I heard something new, underneath the alarm bells.