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  But Megan couldn’t be specific, and found it hard to explain why Adam hadn’t gone to the police in Scotland. Usual story for us, the police won’t help was all that he had said. In any case, the police were more concerned to apologize to the man for their own rash behaviour.

  After hanging around the station entrance a while longer, and once using her Oyster card to have a quick look round the platforms, Megan went back and waited outside the museum, questions taking root in her mind then sprouting into full-grown doubt. If anything was going to happen, it certainly hadn’t yet, and it would probably be impossible to stop if it did.

  First Asa arrived, then Rachel. Megan insisted that they went home. She would wait for Leo. So at 6 p.m. they left her.

  Leo was out of breath when he finally wheezed up alongside Megan. Before she could tell him about her embarrassing experience, he puffed out a question: ‘Which station did Adam mention?’

  ‘Leo, I told you,’ she said glumly, ‘he didn’t say exactly .’

  ‘No, no, I know. But what did he say?’

  ‘The stop for the British Museum.’

  Leo was still out of breath. ‘Thought so. He could mean the British Museum station.’

  ‘Yes. But which one?’ She was fed up and spitting out the words. She was also worried about Adam.

  ‘It’s the name of an actual station, Megan,’ Leo said, with a note of victory in his voice, ‘but one that closed years ago. It’s just up the road.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look on my phone . . .’ He pulled out his new smartphone and typed in the words British Museum Station . Up came pages of entries about a disused stop.

  ‘But that could mean . . .’ Megan, won over by Leo’s enthusiasm, looked at the description on the screen. ‘That would mean it was—’

  ‘Just round the corner,’ Leo concluded as they both started to run.

  Excitement dimmed when they turned the corner and found a row of shops where the entrance used to be. Megan asked a man selling flags and other London memorabilia, but he knew nothing of a station; likewise the woman next door selling handbags. After half an hour they both stood on the street looking around in vain, when Leo’s phone pinged. ‘Oh no,’ he moaned. ‘My mum has flipped. She’s threatening to send out the police to look for me. I’m sorry, Meg. I’m know this is important, and I do want to help, but my mum really would call the police, as you know.’

  ‘You’d best go home. Thanks, Leo, you’ve been a great help.’

  ‘Let me know if I can help any more later, Meg.’ He walked away quickly, glancing fearfully at his phone.

  Megan wondered if she had done all she could. She looked at the bus slowing to a halt and checked the time.

  Slim, birthmark, glasses. Called Alistair.

  A man was crossing the road ahead of her. He was looking at his watch and had a focused, rather haunted, expression.

  Slim, birthmark, glasses . . .

  Alistair?

  He stopped next to her, just a few feet away, checking that no one was watching. Megan tried to see if she could catch a reflection in her phone, then caught his image in the window of the handbag shop. He went to her left and down a narrow alleyway. Megan turned the corner in time to see him disappearing through a faded and chipped green door.

  Alistair went down and down into the old British Museum station.

  CHAPTER 32

  EDINBURGH (SATURDAY 20TH DECEMBER 2014)

  Abbie sat in the cab, urging the lorry on down the dual carriageway, then round Perth and down the M90 towards Edinburgh, but the speedometer refused to edge over its sixty-two-miles-per-hour limit.

  ‘I can see that you’re all het up,’ said the driver in his thick accent. ‘Is there something I can do?’

  ‘I need to get to my dad as soon as possible,’ said Abbie, again frustrated that cars were racing past them. ‘He’s about to do something really stupid.’

  ‘And where’s yer old man?’

  ‘I’m not even exactly sure. South of Edinburgh somewhere – the Glencorse Pumping Station?’

  ‘I remember taking pipes into the place. Bloody great things. And then a turbine. Beast of a job.’

  Abbie immediately sat upright, wide-eyed. ‘You know where it is?’

  ‘Oh aye.’

  Abbie leaned forward. ‘You’re not actually going there?’

  ‘Oh no.’ He shook his head. ‘Two drops in Musselburgh.’

  Abbie sank back slightly. She looked at the notepad on his dashboard and was about to ask for directions.

  ‘But I’ll bend the rules an’ drop you a wee way down the A702.’

  It was late afternoon, and the sunlight was ebbing away. Abbie waved as the lorry swung around and headed back towards Edinburgh, leaving her by the side of the main road in the Pentland Hills, barely a mile from where she wanted to be. The driver had told her trees had been planted to shield the site, which was hidden under a grass-covered roof.

  She heard nothing as she walked along the road. No gurgling or whirring noises drifted in on the breeze, just the wintry creaking of oak trees. Then she came to an open gate – unexpected, given the warnings of high security and threats of fines for unauthorized entry. The place seemed deserted. She had expected to have to scale a fence topped with barbed wire, but she walked on to the site unquestioned.

  As she turned the corner Abbie saw three vehicles: a couple of Scottish Water Land Rovers and a Toyota Land Cruiser. There was a small brick office to her right. The door was closed, the lights off.

  Still no sign of anyone.

  The door was locked, so Abbie cupped her hands to the window and tried to look in. She could just about make things out in the gloom. Straight ahead, a noticeboard covered with white sheets of A4 and some posters, and a desk with a computer.

  Then with horror, she saw that there were two bodies lying on the floor. Unmoving. Dead.

  ‘They had to be despatched. All wars have innocent casualties. Those who die for our cause will join us on the Golden Planet.’ It was her father’s voice from close behind her. ‘We’ve been wondering what happened to you. What have you done with Adam?’

  Abbie took in a sharp breath. ‘I’m not sure where Adam is. He’s not with me any more.’ Abbie delivered the words she had prepared: ‘Dad, I’ve thought about it and want to see it through with you. That’s why I’m no longer with Adam.’

  Before he could respond, Abbie’s father heard his name called across the small car park. It was Robert, Noah’s father, looking pale and troubled. As he strode closer it was Abbie he addressed, though she couldn’t tell if his tone was sarcastic or sad: ‘You’ll be relieved to know that Noah is fine.’

  ‘Who else is here?’ Abbie asked numbly, trying to play her part, ignoring Noah’s father.

  ‘Oliver.’

  Abbie knew he was important to Bolleskine and had brought Adam to Castle Dreich.

  Abbie’s father immediately gave instructions to Robert. ‘Oliver says you have to put on the Scottish Water clothes and stand by the gate. Have you got the weapon?’

  ‘Yes, Mark.’ He nodded and uneasily pulled up his coat to reveal a handgun.

  Abbie’s father gestured for her to go ahead of him towards a metal door in the grassy mound that housed the water-treatment and supply plant. ‘Abbie, we’re busy doing vital work,’ he said. ‘You’ve done a terrible thing by opposing us. But it’ll all be over soon and then you’ll have forever to prove your loyalty.’

  Inside there was a metal walkway leading into what looked and sounded like the engine room of a ship: pipes snaked in all directions above channels of fast-flowing water. She saw a boy, Oliver, opening one of about twenty paint-pot-sized tubs. The drug.

  ‘What’s she doing here?’ Oliver asked with an authority that seemed far beyond his years. ‘We don’t need any distractions – keep her quiet. This is something we can deal with once we’re on the Golden Planet.’

  Abbie fought to hide her shock that such words were coming from one
so young. ‘Dad,’ she started, putting her hand on his upper arm. It was one of the few times since this had all started that they had touched.

  ‘Abbie, the world, blinded and smothered by demons, cannot see the truth. We can.’ He was like a stranger to Abbie. ‘If you want, you can help. If not, you’ll have to wait until we’re ready to return to the castle.’

  ‘And if you get in the way, you can easily be sent on ahead of us,’ Oliver muttered. ‘I’m going to get the last two containers.’

  Abbie’s father was calm, steely. He spoke as he prised open lids. ‘Remember, it’s not killing. Any one of us who dies today will be taken to the Golden Planet. It is all in the service of the Valdhinians.’

  ‘Do you honestly believe Mum would have wanted this?’

  Her father stopped and straightened up, turning to face her. ‘That’s exactly where I have no doubt.’

  ‘She didn’t have any time for religion.’

  ‘Abbie, she has told me herself that Bolleskine is right.’

  ‘She can’t have done – she’s dead!’ Abbie couldn’t stop herself. ‘Please, don’t be an idiot. Mum’s dead, dead, dead!’

  Slap.

  She recovered from the blow and stood upright again.

  ‘How dare you!’ Her father shouted. ‘She speaks to me all the time.’

  She saw spiders, her dad saw his dead wife . Abbie had always thought that the dark things of our dreams would be fears, like her spiders or Adam’s bats. Now she understood that the drug was far more powerful than that.

  Gallon after gallon of water was pouring away under their feet, heading for Edinburgh.

  Her dad raised his hand again, but this time Abbie caught it. There were tears in her eyes. ‘You know the things Mum said, don’t you? Remember, Dad, please. Remember .’

  Mark Hopkins looked down at the drug. ‘This is a way for us to be together again. You don’t understand.’

  ‘Dad . . .’ Abbie didn’t have the words to say what she understood about the past and memories and being hard on the outside and soft on the inside. ‘Dad, we’re too tough to let these people control us. You can be the hero. Please listen to me! Please! ’

  The door opened and Oliver stalked in with the last two tubs of the drug, one in either hand. He smiled at Abbie and put them down. ‘We’re ready to go.’

  Abbie’s father said, ‘Yes, of course.’

  Abbie wasn’t sure whether he was addressing her or Oliver. Her mind drifted back to being threatened with a gun, then to the rope being passed out of the window at the castle and her betrayal to Bolleskine. She remembered being held underwater. Her father allowing them to pin her down and force drugs into her. She closed her eyes and pushed her lips together, horrified that her father was subservient to a boy.

  ‘If Adam doesn’t return, I will lead us on to the Golden Planet,’ said Oliver.

  Abbie felt she was standing on the edge of a cliff. She ran past Oliver towards the exit.

  ‘Let her go,’ said Oliver – perhaps by chance, perhaps on purpose, allowing Abbie the sight of a gun tucked into his trousers. ‘We must begin here.’

  Abbie ran across the car park towards the main gate, where Robert was watching the road. ‘Robert,’ she said breathlessly, approaching. ‘Oliver says you’re to come inside now. He needs you to start the distribution.’

  Robert frowned and nodded very slowly. Uncertain.

  Abbie moved closer. ‘I’m sorry about Noah. He’s really friendly. I didn’t want to hurt him.’ She looked down. ‘I was wrong.’

  ‘These are difficult times,’ Robert said.

  ‘Can you forgive me?’ Abbie held out her palm.

  As Robert shook Abbie’s hand, she lunged for the gun, grabbing the weapon from his belt and leaping away, then running back to the metal door.

  Robert didn’t immediately give chase. He was confused and tired – unsure what was right and what was wrong.

  Metal stairs creaked.

  ‘What?’ Oliver shouted. ‘How?’

  It was Abbie, gun raised. She had played computer games that involved guns, and holding a real one, looking down the barrel, was terrifyingly similar to the digital version. ‘The safety catch is off.’ She looked down the barrel, switching the target from Oliver to her father and back again. ‘You two are going to move away from those containers . . .’

  They stayed where they were.

  ‘Come on – move!’ Abbie was nearly at the bottom of the stairs. ‘And if anyone does anything stupid, I’m going to pull the trigger. That includes you.’ She nodded in the direction of her father.

  Robert was coming down the stairs behind her.

  ‘Abbie – this is dangerous,’ said her father. ‘We’re both armed and I know you wouldn’t shoot me.’

  ‘You’re wrong. If you do anything stupid, it’ll be just like Call of Duty. Bang. Bang.’ She glanced down to see how many steps were left. Abbie’s hand was steady, but her heart was thumping and her legs shaky.

  My own father!

  Then – too quickly – Oliver pulled out his gun, aiming it straight at Abbie. Although he was only fourteen, his blue eyes had the determined stare of an adult. ‘I want to join my parents. I want to help rule the Golden Planet.’ He shrugged a little and gave a low chuckle. ‘How about us kids both pull our triggers at the same time? Then the other two can finish the job here.’

  Robert was now immediately behind Abbie. Less than a step away. Within reach . . .

  But instead he brushed past and went towards Oliver. He spoke hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure about this any more. We’ve come far, but I didn’t like what we did to those men earlier. Oliver – why don’t you put it down? Abbie doesn’t mean any harm. You’re just kids.’

  Bang.

  Abbie flinched.

  Oliver had fired a bullet – at point-blank range – into

  Robert. Then his gun went straight back to Abbie. ‘No, I don’t think I will put it down. Who is he to speak to me like that?’

  Abbie could see out of the corner of her eye that Robert was lying completely still. Some of the blue pipes had red spattered on them. All of that life , gone. Just bang. The murdering bastard. She felt a jet of terror inside her, wild like a loose hose, spraying fear and despair.

  Abbie’s father had pulled out his gun now too. Abbie could see, she was sure, the direction. It was pointing at Oliver. But his eyes were blinking and looking erratically around the room.

  Oliver had the wild-eyed enthusiasm of a boy with no questions. ‘Go on – pull the trigger. I know where I’m going: to the Golden Planet. All I care is that the drug is put in the water first.’

  For a few seconds, while machinery whirred and water bubbled through the pipes, all three pointed their guns, Abbie and her father at Oliver, while he looked carefully down the line of fire towards Abbie’s head. He started to smile.

  Abbie’s father screwed his face up.

  Oliver said, ‘See you, Abbie, on the Gold—’

  Abbie’s father pulled his trigger.

  THUD.

  Oliver, innocent face full of surprise and agony, fell back into the passing water with a splash, blood seeping into the water supply.

  ‘What have I done?’ wailed Abbie’s father, seeming drained of energy. ‘He was just a kid. What have I done? What have I done?’

  Oliver made a thin groaning sound.

  Abbie also lowered her gun. ‘Come on, Dad. It’s all over now. It’s finished.’ She started to walk towards him.

  Her father let out a desperate screech, raising his gun again. ‘Don’t come any closer,’ he panted, the weapon now pointing at Abbie.

  ‘Dad?’ Abbie stopped walking and slowly raised her own pistol again. ‘Dad, please, I don’t want to die. Not yet. Not now.’

  Only three paces apart, father faced daughter, both guns now raised.

  Suddenly there was the sound of a door being swung open and several sets of footsteps on the metal walkway. ‘Police! Stay where you are. Police!’
>
  ‘Dad, put it down,’ whispered Abbie. ‘For Mum.’ She pointed her gun at her father’s shoulder.

  Behind Abbie she could hear urgent messages sent and received on police radios. She heard ‘one dead’ and ‘one seriously injured, feared dead’, ‘ambulance’, ‘man and a girl’ and ‘guns’ and ‘firearms officers’.

  ‘Please lower your weapons,’ said a loud voice from the far side of the room.

  ‘Abbie, I was tired. I was confused. Or maybe I was right. There’s only one way to find out.’ He raised the gun to his own temple. ‘If it’s true, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Sir, put down the gun down right now and let’s talk about this.’

  Water gushed behind Mark Hopkins. Violent, erratic, furious water, red with Oliver’s blood.

  ‘Sir, put—’

  There was a gunshot and Abbie’s father fell to the ground.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ shouted a policeman into his radio. ‘The man has just been shot by the girl.’ The policemen ran forward. One grabbed Abbie and the other kicked her father’s gun away from where it had spilt. ‘We need another ambulance,’ the policeman shouted into his radio, pressing the shoulder wound with his other hand. ‘The man has just been shot.’

  Abbie turned to the policeman next to her. ‘Please help him. Please! And get on your radio and send people out to Castle Dreich.’ She turned to her father. Please survive. You’re my dad.

  CHAPTER 33

  THE FLY GOES TO THE WEB (SATURDAY 20TH DECEMBER 2014)

  Adam stood watching the lorry pull away until it was out of sight.

  Then he went into the trees next to the lay-by. He wanted a strategy as definite as Abbie’s, ideally one that ended with him at Castle Dreich with a hundred armed police officers – but he had only hopes, not plans.

  Getting close to the castle would be difficult, getting inside even harder, and preventing a massacre there almost impossible. But doing something was better than being fobbed off by the police again .

  Despite the overwhelming desire Adam felt to lead an ordinary life, he was drawn to help the other kids left under the castle. He didn’t choose to go back – he just felt he had to.