Spiders Page 8

  ‘Trust me.’ Her father again. ‘I’m going to swing this across so that you can hold on.’

  On the third attempt, Abbie caught the rope and managed to twist it around her wrist into a crude knot.

  ‘Now let go with your other hand.’

  Abbie could feel that the rope was firm. She let go and grabbed the rope with both cold, rigid hands. Next she had to drop her feet away from the pipe and let her father take her weight. I must do this , she thought.

  Finally she slid from the pipe and swung down across the castle wall to a point immediately below the bathroom window. Crenellated battlements loomed over her. But here there was nothing at all to grab on to. She was held only by her father and her own determination to cling on.

  She was winched down, each little descent jolting her arms, weakening her grip on the rope.

  ‘I love you, Dad,’ whimpered Abbie, and pictured herself running for freedom after drinking from the loch.

  ‘I love truth,’ came her father’s reply.

  After a further short drop, Abbie reached the bottom of the wall. She looked up but couldn’t see her father – he must have been there: the rope was disappearing upward, writhing angrily as it rose.

  The loch lapped peacefully at stones about thirty yards away. She scooped up a handful of the fresh snow and put it to her lips. Instant, partial, relief.

  Many windows looked out this way, but most were unlit as Abbie scurried towards the loch. At the edge, she scooped up water greedily, the cold making her gasp. With her hands cupped together, she collected handful after handful, ignoring the icy drips dibbling off her chin. Then she paused. She could hear footsteps and a cough. Someone sniffed.

  Suddenly there were a large number of people outside, spilling around both sides of the castle. They were not in cloaks this time, but were dressed in outdoor winter clothes. Engines rumbled in the distance.

  One man stood out ahead of the crowd. ‘Did you think that your father would hand you to anyone but me?’ Bolleskine shook his head slowly and mockingly.

  Abbie looked for her father – and spotted him, a few paces away.

  Bolleskine came forward and grabbed the scruff of her neck. ‘You see how perfectly things are working together – how clearly the spirits guided your father?’

  Abbie looked at the loch waiting to embrace her.

  ‘You came out here wanting to drink.’ He pushed her nearer to the water. ‘Let me help you drink.’

  He forced Abbie face down into the water. At first she was most aware of the bitter cold, but then the feeling of needing a breath rose. It started in her upper chest and got more and more urgent.

  No one was going to help her, she realized. Not even her father.

  Bolleskine pulled Abbie up and she drank in air, wilting towards the expanse of freezing water. ‘Take her inside and ensure that she drinks well – with our water. And give her some solid food as well.’ He turned to Abbie’s father and two other people. ‘We must collect Adam tonight. Take everyone from the Inner Guard apart from two for the caverns and two for the castle. I’m going to get Adam myself.’

  If the intention had been to intimidate Abbie into submission, his actions had the opposite effect. With the resolve that comes to one who has been given another chance, she was determined to find out about the castle and the caverns that lay beneath.

  CHAPTER 18

  COMING TO GET YOU (MONDAY 15TH DECEMBER 2014)

  Megan ran into the hostel reception and asked where Adam was.

  The receptionist looked at her blankly.

  ‘Adam Grant,’ Megan persisted. ‘The boy who is injured! The boy Mr Macleod has gone to see!’

  The woman was in no hurry to deal with rude kids. She raised her eyebrows dismissively. ‘The Aviemore Medical Practice. Not far. On Muirton,’ she said with her soft Scottish lilt, ‘just off Grampian Road.’

  Miss Frances had followed Megan down the stairs. ‘Is something the matter?’

  ‘Miss, I have to go. To Adam.’ Megan was already heading towards the door, typing Muirton, Aviemore into Google Maps on her phone.

  ‘No, no . You have to stay here, Megan.’

  Megan opened the door.

  ‘Megan!’

  She stepped out and the door closed.

  ‘Megan, don’t be stupid! Come back here.’

  Megan ran.

  It was not far as the crow flies, but Megan could see that she had to weave through side streets to reach the medical centre. Tennis and hockey had made her a good athlete, and she was a half-decent cross-country runner when forced, but she’d set off at a sprint. The first few hundred yards were easy, but after that, even though she slowed down, she was struggling for breath and her thighs and calves hurt. As the centre neared, her legs felt like stinging balls of rock. She urged herself on, sucking in air desperately and ignoring the pain.

  Ahead was the minibus, left at an angle in haste, looking abandoned rather than parked. Nestled behind it were three Toyota Land Cruisers. To the far side, in the actual car park, a very reassuring sight: a police Range Rover.

  Megan slowed to a walk. It was a residential area and she had to look like an ordinary kid wandering home, so she slowly drifted away from the street lights and into the darkness under trees, casually glancing around, before she crouched behind a wall, pulled out her phone and dialled 999. Whispering, Megan asked for the police and then said that a boy was in danger. ‘I can see a police car already there,’ she told the operator as, to her great relief, two tough-looking policemen emerged from the centre. Megan was advised to speak to the officers.

  Just as she was about to run towards the policemen, she heard her name: Megan James. What? She frowned – and stopped.

  ‘Roger. If we see her, we’ll bring her back. Over and out.’ It was one of the policemen speaking into his radio. Miss Frances had wasted no time contacting the authorities.

  Megan dropped down behind one of the Land Cruisers. From inside she could hear the dull rumble of conversation, one word of which made her stop breathing: ‘Adam’. Then she heard it again: ‘Adam’, and – even worse, confirming her fears – the name ‘Oliver’.

  Crouching close to the ground, Megan headed towards some low bushes on her right that ran down the side of the single-storey medical centre. The ground was hard and slippery, laced with the knotty roots of trees and peppered with small shrubs. Looking to her left as much as she could, glancing between Land Cruisers and policemen, she held her breath for the twenty yards until she was down the side of the oblong building.

  The first door that Megan came to was a fire escape – simple to open from the inside, but impossible for her on the outside. As she turned down the long rear side of the building, she realized that she couldn’t get in: no open windows, no second entrance, nothing. Smashing a window would bring everyone running. The police would just grab her . Hopeless.

  Dr Tomlinson turned to Mr Macleod and Oliver. ‘I need to give Adam a check-over now, so you’d better wait outside.’

  Adam liked Dr Tomlinson. Her manner was friendly, more like a nurse’s than a doctor’s. Adam was surprised at how young she was, and that her make-up and clothes suggested she was off for a night on the town.

  She turned to Adam with a smile. ‘I’ll decide if we need an ambulance to take you to hospital once I’ve had a quick look.’

  Adam smiled. Nearly a year ago, he had been in more ambulances and police cars than he cared to remember. His smile was more of relief than excitement: he felt much safer now that there were policemen nearby and Mr Macleod and Oliver had arrived.

  ‘Why don’t you slip your top off and I’ll have a look at that shoulder?’ Dr Tomlinson helped ease the T-shirt off Adam and then squeezed the area gently with her fingers. ‘How does that feel?’

  ‘Tender. But not too bad.’

  There was further pressing of Adam’s side. ‘I don’t think anything’s broken. But we should keep you in overnight for observation. You can call your parents and let
them know how you are.’

  She then examined Adam’s leg. Adam felt mildly embarrassed taking his salopettes off and sitting on the bed in bright red boxer shorts that were probably a year or so too small for him.

  ‘Yes, you’re in one piece, although that shoulder will be sore for a few days, I expect, and you won’t be skiing any more this week.’ Dr Tomlinson was taking her gloves off near the sink. ‘I’ll have a word with your teacher while you get dressed.’ Adam had stayed on the bed to avoid parading his boxers in front of her, hands and arms obscuring as much as possible. She went out without turning round.

  As soon as the door closed, Adam heard his name. Then again, and a series of taps on the window. He went over, unthinking, as he put his T-shirt on – and could see Megan’s face, ghost-like, at the glass.

  ‘Adam, open the window!’

  As soon as he did, she hissed with desperate urgency, ‘Get dressed and climb out. You’re in danger!’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Don’t waste time! I’ll explain later.’

  Adam clicked the lock on the door from green to red. Then he threw on his clothes, relieved that Mr Macleod had brought him trainers to replace his ski boots, and too flustered to think to hide his tight boxers in front of Megan.

  Dr Tomlinson returned a few seconds after Adam had dropped down out of the window. ‘Adam? Have you locked the door?’ She rattled the handle. ‘Adam, can you open it when you’re changed?’ She listened and could hear nothing. ‘Adam?’

  Mr Macleod had been talking to the policemen about Megan’s disappearance, explaining that she was bound to turn up at any second, when he heard Dr Tomlinson’s voice and rushed from the reception, Oliver following. Mr Macleod joined in, knocking, ordering, persuading, pleading and above all regretting the disaster that his trip had become. ‘Adam? Adam, will you open this door?’

  Not a sound.

  ‘Can you open it?’ Mr Macleod asked.

  ‘Yes. There’s a key that overrides the lock.’ Dr Tomlinson ran off to another room.

  Oliver’s mind worked differently. Mr Macleod saw Adam as a worried schoolboy barricading himself in a room, probably huddled in a corner; Oliver saw Adam as an anointed leader, though one unaware of his status. Oliver left the geography teacher and went to the front door.

  ‘Oliver, come back!’ shouted Mr Macleod. Now he had lost three of his group.

  Oliver calmly went to the policemen standing outside the building. ‘My teacher has asked me to tell you that Adam is locked in his room and won’t open the door.’ A half-truth from an angelic face. ‘Could you go in and help, please?’

  The policemen immediately went inside.

  Oliver ran to the Toyota Land Cruisers. ‘He’s escaped – probably out the back. Inside are two police, one doctor, one teacher. Quick.’

  Bolleskine instructed three of the people getting out of the first car: ‘To the left.’ Then, to three from the other car: ‘Go round to the right.’ He held his hand up for them to pause for a second. ‘I need Adam tonight. Kill anyone who obstructs our glorious work.’ As they left, he spoke to the man next to him, Abbie’s father: ‘Get the cars to sweep around over there –’ he waved his hand imprecisely towards the residential area behind the clinic – ‘but try to keep it low profile.’

  Finally Bolleskine turned to Oliver. ‘Well done – you will be greatly rewarded when we arrive at the Golden Planet.’ He put his hand on Oliver’s cheek. ‘Your parents are proud of you. I have spoken to them twice in the past week. They are enjoying their stay in our new home.’

  Oliver thought of his parents and remembered them drinking the liquid that enabled them to leave their bodies and be the first people to depart Castle Dreich and make the great journey. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they were reunited.

  Behind the Medical Centre, they fought their way over a frosty fence and then dropped down behind a low wall. ‘Megan, what the hell is going on?’ Adam hissed hoarsely.

  ‘Maybe nothing, but I –’ she put a finger to her lips as they went across a car park – ‘I think something bad is happening again. We need to keep moving.’

  In front of them was a large modern school that looked very secure, so they followed a path that curved to the left and came out in a residential street.

  After turning a couple of corners, straight ahead they could see what looked like the main road. Suddenly headlights were coming from that direction. ‘Watch it,’ said Adam as he pushed Megan behind a large black dustbin.

  A Toyota Land Cruiser slowly drove past.

  Megan’s head peered out around the side of the bin. ‘That’s them!’

  Mr Macleod and two policemen watched as Dr Tomlinson unlocked the door. He had expected to have to cajole a frightened Adam out from under the bed, but dread beyond panic erupted inside him when he realized that the window was slightly ajar and the boy had gone.

  One of the policemen opened the window wider and poked his head out. ‘Adam?’ he called. ‘Adam Grant?’ The people from Castle Dreich lay flat in the darkness, one of them directly under the window, as the policeman shone his torch into the bushes. But the light didn’t land on anyone. It never occurred to the policeman that there were others more desperate to find Adam than he was.

  Horrified, Mr Macleod sat on the bed where Adam had been. ‘Why is this happening to me?’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir,’ said the other policeman. ‘We’ve dealt with difficult kids before.’ Teenagers were an annoyance not really worth bothering with. ‘They’ll be back by morning.’

  A sudden burst of music sang from Megan’s pocket. Her phone was ringing. She showed Adam the name as she answered.

  ‘Megan, it’s Oliver. We’re all really worried about you. Will you be coming back? Where are you?’

  Megan thought fast. ‘Oliver, I’ve found Adam,’ she said. ‘We’re on the road back to the hostel.’

  Adam gave Megan a thumbs-up and nodded.

  ‘See you soon,’ she said. The line went dead. ‘Not likely,’ she added.

  Adam laughed wryly, surprised at how – in the midst of such chaos – he could still think of how much he liked looking at Megan’s face.

  Ahead, he could see a bungalow that was in darkness, the residents either out or asleep. They dashed across the road and into the back garden. Adam went over to a shed, regretting that his footprints left a pattern in the snow, but delighted when it was open. He beckoned Megan over and, perching between a mower and shelves of jam jars holding rusty nails, he leaned towards her. ‘Here we are again, in a shed, in trouble.’

  Megan explained her deduction, and Adam described how he had been chased, both interrupting the other to speculate why – ‘why? why? why?’ – all this could be happening.

  Adam decided to call his parents on Megan’s phone. His mother answered, but then the phone was taken by his father, who was not sympathetic. ‘Adam, this is rather silly. We do understand that things have been difficult, but you need to come home now.’

  ‘But, Dad,’ Adam pleaded, ‘something bad is happening. There were these people—’

  ‘Listen,’ Mr Grant said, slightly too loudly, making Adam wince – his father was rarely annoyed and that made it so much worse when it did happen. ‘We’re really worried. You haven’t been yourself and you just need to get yourself back here as soon as possible.’

  Adam closed his eyes. ‘OK. OK. I promise.’

  As soon as he ended the call, the phone rang again. OLIVER was the name that lit up the screen.

  ‘Yes?’ said Megan, suspicion creeping into her voice.

  Oliver sounded different, agitated and hostile rather than his usual quiet self. ‘Let’s stop playing games. You’re involved in something far, far bigger than you realize. We just want to look after Adam. We’re the last people who want to hurt him, believe me.’

  ‘We’re going to the police.’ Megan was matter-of-fact.

  ‘They’re not going to believe a word of it,’ Oliver continued. ‘And Adam c
an hardly stay under police guard forever? People will get hurt if you don’t cooperate.’

  Adam grabbed the phone and swore into it, telling Oliver where he could stick it. He pressed the End Call button aggressively. ‘Sorry, Meg,’ he said, ‘but I think I made myself clear.’

  Megan switched her phone off. It wasn’t just to avoid calls – she also remembered hearing that it was possible to trace someone’s location from their phone. And they had no idea how many people in the area were involved.

  It was a bitterly cold night. The moon was waning, but the stars were clear and bright.

  ‘We can’t stay out here,’ said Adam. ‘We’ll freeze.’ He looked at the house, seeing its open curtains. ‘I don’t think anyone is in. Stay here, Meg, and keep watch.’

  Adam went to the back of the bungalow and peered in. He could just about make out a tidy sitting room through one window and a double bed in another, neatly made. Then he went around to the front of the house. Listening carefully for any noise, he raced to the front door, drawn by a package poking out of the letter box; pushing open the flap, he saw a pile of other post.

  ‘Meg, they’re away. There’s a heap of mail waiting,’ he said breathlessly on his return to the shed. ‘Look, we’re going to get inside and spend the night in there.’

  ‘Break in?’ said Megan doubtfully.

  ‘Yes, break in. You know what Asa says: Desperate times call for desperate measures . Well, this is pretty bloody desperate. Worst case, we’re arrested. I can live with that.’

  Breaking in quietly was more difficult than Adam expected. Even without his injured shoulder, he probably couldn’t force any of the windows, didn’t dare smash them for fear of the noise, and the door was secure and double-glazed.

  Megan was rustling around by some plants.

  ‘Meg, can you help?’ Adam whispered. ‘If we can just get this plastic fixing to snap . . .’

  Megan didn’t answer.

  ‘Meg? Meg! What are you doing?!’ Adam asked, still at work on the fixing.