Barrett jabbed the intercom shut and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the phone. "Yes?" he growled.

"Ripley, Sir. We've tracked Meyers' phone signal to a truck stop just outside of Dumfries. We raided the lorry and found the phone but no Meyers; there's a chance that he might have skipped out before we got there but I don't think so. The driver swears that there was no one in the back and I'm inclined to believe him."

Barrett bristled with the incompetence of others. In any usual circ.u.mstances, he probably would have sent Meyers on a case like this but that was obviously off the table now. He hung up the phone without replying and leaned back in his chair.

"Everything okay?" a voice from below the desk asked as the attractive reporter from earlier looked up from her kneeling position.

"None of your d.a.m.n business," Barrett snapped. "And who told you to stop?"

As the bobbing woman continued her duties, Barrett remembered that he also had the ability to track Zerneck. He couldn't believe that the reporter might suddenly develop a backbone and work with the missing policeman and his psychic sidekick, but it was the only hope that he had.

There were men under his command that he had faith in, men that could be relied upon for their discretion and obedience, men who had access to firearms and weren't afraid to use them. His men had been on alert and mobile for the last few days now and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. As the woman below the desk reached his finish, he made the decision and made the call.

Simon walked alone, savouring the quiet moments before the approaching storm. His life had all been building slowly towards this moment and now that it was finally close, he felt fear and a strange kind of loss as the chase reached its conclusion.

His mind had been so full of antic.i.p.ation for so many years that he was afraid the finale could never live up to his expectations. His family was about to be reunited and the whole world would be laid bare before their feet.

He didn't consider himself a monster. Sure, some people had to die but in the grand scheme of things it was a small sacrifice to make. Martin Kline had been set on his path to death and destruction long before he had found him; all he had done was to give some direction and meaning to the inevitable.

As he surveyed the scene before him, he could feel the power coursing through his veins. Off in the distance a lone dog walker was throwing a ball for her pet to retrieve and the animal showed no signs of tiring of the game despite its owner aching arm.

Simon closed his eyes and sought out the dog; one minute the animal was chasing a bouncing rubber ball but the next it caught sight of a rabbit running across the sands. Simon projected the image, driving the dog into a frenzy as it ran away from its panicking owner and straight into the sea beyond. The dog swam and swam as the rabbit turned back with a mocking grin etched across its furry face only serving to enrage the dog further.

He pulled his mind back before the dog started to drown; he didn't want to feel the animal's lungs fill with cold salt water. It was a small trick to him now to enter those around him and only further prove that he was a G.o.d among the shaved monkeys of this world. Before this night was over he would be rejoined with his sister and together they would ascend and take their rightful place and there would be no one left to challenge them.

Danny drove Randall's car, much to the consternation of the reporter but he wasn't running a democracy. Randall held the smart phone with the blinking dot that would lead them to Jane and, hopefully, in time.

He drove faster than he would have normally dared. Jane was one of the most capable people he had ever met in his life, but even she wasn't bulletproof.

"Is she still moving?" he asked.

"Yes, she's heading up the coast and hasn't shown any signs of pulling off the main road yet," Randall replied, his eyes never leaving the small screen. "You got any idea where she's going?"

"Not a clue," Danny admitted.

His thoughts returned to the road ahead as he navigated the traffic, weaving in and out of the fading tourist trade as the end of summer was drawing to a close and the holidays were over. He was heading for the motorway, using some back roads where he was sure that he could make up some time on Jane.

The road was surrounded by woodland on all sides and was normally only used by those with time on their hands to enjoy the scenery as the main roads carried higher speed limits. He swung out and overtook another car as Randall breathed in harshly as the silver car flashed by, complete with an angry shaking fist by the driver.

He rounded a bend a little too quickly and the car started to skid a little too far out as the backend protested that it wasn't built for racing. For a moment, Danny thought that they were going to spin but at the last second the tyres grabbed some purchase despite their squeals and they straightened out.

"Take it easy," Randall said nervously. "We're not going to be much good to her if we're wrapped around a tree."

Danny knew that the man was right but there was an aching in his gut that told him that they were going to be too late unless he really pushed it.

As he looked back at the corner in the rear-view mirror to see how close they had come to disaster, he spotted the car behind. In his haste and worry he hadn't noticed the car before, but if it was there then it had to be racing along with as much dangerous speed as they were. There wasn't much in the way of civilisation out this far and there were only two more turnoffs for the motorway with the penultimate one coming up. He had intended to take that turning, but now he pressed on forwards, increasing speed to the point that the rental car started to shudder. The other car followed his lead.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" Randall cried out, shocked.

Danny ignored him and only concentrated on his driving as he dragged every last inch of performance from the hire car. Whoever was driving the car behind was clearly a professional as they matched him move for move and closed the gap rapidly now that their cover had been blown.

It quickly became clear to Danny that there was no chance that they were going to outrun their pursuers. The road ahead may have been currently empty but the car behind seemed to care little for their very public display and Danny knew that they were no longer interested in subtlety. His only hope now was to try and make the last turning for the motorway where there would surely be too many witnesses.

He risked a look back just in time to see the car behind slam into the back of them. The jolt whipped them forward in their seats and Danny fought to keep the car straight and only just won the battle but not the war. Just as he managed to line the car up again, the vehicle behind accelerated until its nose was just past his b.u.mper and then turned in sharply.

Danny had been on several driving courses in the dim past and could vaguely remember the PIT or Precise Immobilisation Technique manoeuvre for stopping fleeing vehicles during a high-speed chase. The car behind affected it perfectly and Danny began to spin around and out of control. The car's tyres screeched as the rubber burned before one of the rear tyres slipped over the edge of the road and swapped tarmac for soft dirt.

He didn't have time to shout a warning to Randall before they started to roll, disappearing down the slope into slapping branches and darkness.

By the time that Randall came around, his head ached monstrously and a quick check with his hand revealed that there was a lot of blood. Danny had started driving like a lunatic, seemingly without warning, and then another car had crashed into the back of them, sending them careering off the road. It took him a moment to realise that it wasn't the world that was upside down, it was him.

He struggled to free himself from the seatbelt before crashing down onto the car's ceiling with his knees jammed up to his throat. He inched himself around until his feet were pressed up against the door's window. The door itself was severely buckled inwards and it was clear that there was no way it was going to open. He could feel rather than see Danny in the driver's seat next to him, but his first instinct was to get the h.e.l.l out of this metal coffin.

He kicked at the gla.s.s several times until it finally shattered. He stuck his feet out through the window and scooted his a.s.s forwards until he was almost free. His shoulders were the problem as they got stuck in the opening. A sense of claustrophobia started to make him panic as he wriggled and jerked frantically to get free. His heart was pounding hard and his mouth was dry but suddenly, strong hands grabbed his feet and he was yanked forward, leaving a chunk of skin behind.

"Thank you, thank you," he babbled as his face was. .h.i.t with glorious fresh air. "Has someone called the police?" he asked, not caring about Danny's warrant or Barrett - all he wanted was a clean hospital bed. If Barrett wanted him to play ball then so be it. He'd been an idiot to think that he could be a hero; the truth was overrated.

Off to the side he could hear Danny being unceremoniously dragged out of the wreckage and started to wonder about the veracity of their rescuers. There were m.u.f.fled voices followed by a dull thud and an exclamation of pain.

"Look, there's no need for any of this," Randall pleaded as Danny appeared, being half carried around the front of the car.

They were hidden from the road under a canopy of broken branches. The car was upside down and ruined; there was also a strong smell of petrol in the air that Randall wanted to get away from as quickly as possible.

"Why don't you get Barrett on the phone," Randall begged desperately. "I'm sure that we can sort this all out. It's just a big misunderstanding."

"Shut up," Danny slurred, as the man carrying him dropped him next to Randall.

He watched in horror as both of the men standing over them withdrew black automatic pistols from inside of hidden holsters. "Please!"

"Don't beg," Danny scolded. "Have some dignity, for Christ's sake."

"Look, it's him that you want, not me." Randall pointed, no longer caring about right or wrong; only survival mattered now. "I'm already under Barrett's thumb. I can't hurt him. I wouldn't!"

"Jesus, you don't hear me begging, do you?" Danny barked. "I've lost everything. I had the perfect man and he broke my heart; he was the love of my life," he choked off.

In spite of their precarious situation, Randall couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.

"So I'm gay, so the h.e.l.l what? Does that mean that I shouldn't be happy? Don't I deserve to be who I am and find love? Don't I deserve to be loved?"

Randall looked away at the emotional outburst, feeling embarra.s.sed, and then he couldn't help but notice that their two executioners were doing the same thing and he realised what Danny was up to. If there was one thing that men hated it was raw emotion; if you coupled that with latent h.o.m.ophobia, then Danny had just intentionally made a window.

There was a flicker of flame from a lighter in Danny's hand and suddenly the pooling petrol around them caught fire. The two men standing over them leapt backwards in shock and Danny was moving faster than Randall thought possible. The copper swung a hard fist on the way up to his feet that caught the first man squarely between the legs and dropped him like a stone. Randall saw the man's gun drop to the floor and rolled towards it as Danny launched himself at the other man, entangling them both in a flail of swinging punches.

Randall searched frantically for the fallen weapon amidst the spreading flames that threatened to engulf them. The smoke was already rising and he suddenly remembered that the petrol was spilling from a car mere feet away that was full of fuel. His first instinct was to scramble to his feet and run in the opposite direction, but he fought hard to ignore the very loud voice in his head.

He spotted the gun on the ground and s.n.a.t.c.hed it up quickly. The weapon was slick and heavy in his hand. He had never fired a gun before and could only surmise that you pointed and pulled the trigger before changing the world.

The man that Danny had punched in the nuts started to rise and Randall raised the gun before changing his mind and stepping closer. He brought the heavy metal gun down hard against the man's temple and his stomach rolled as the guy slumped to the ground again, only this time with a sickening dent in his head.

Randall turned towards the other two struggling men in time to see Danny grab the man hard by the shirt and crash his own head forward onto his a.s.sailant's nose in a crimson spray. Randall was sickened by the violence around him and dropped the gun to the ground, hating its cold feel in his hand.

"These can't really be the police?" he asked, shocked.

"Believe it," Danny replied. "s.h.i.t, I think that I was on a firearms course with your guy over there."

"Barrett sent them?"

"What do you think?"

"But I'm not a threat to him. I told him that I'd go along with what he wanted."

"I guess he changed his mind."

Randall watched on as Danny searched the unconscious man for car keys. "What about the fire? This car's going to blow any second," he said, climbing back up the bank towards the road.

"Relax, it's just a little leak," Danny scoffed as he found the car keys. "Cars don't just explode. That's only on the silver screen."

Randall didn't trust his a.s.sessment and didn't stop until he was safely back on the road looking down. "What about them?" He pointed to the men as Danny joined him.

"What about them?" Danny shrugged.

"Shouldn't we tie them up or something?"

"You're welcome to go back down and check on them if you like."

Randall peered back down the slope and saw the two men lying p.r.o.ne on the ground. The flames hadn't spread much and already looked like they dying out. Some of the scrub around the car had burned away but it seemed like Danny had been accurate about the car not exploding. "Alright, let's get going."

"Stop or I'll shoot," a voice yelled out from behind as they both turned towards the unmarked police car.

Danny turned to him. "Randall, where's the other gun?"

Randall realised that he'd left the weapon next to a man that he'd a.s.sumed was out cold.

They both turned back around to see one of the dirty cops standing unsteadily with a gun raised in a shaky hand. There was a lot of blood running down his forehead from where Randall had struck him but his aim looked clear.

"He's pretty out of it," Danny whispered out of the side of his mouth. "I've got the other guy's gun in my pocket. I think I can get to it before he fires."

"Are you nuts?"

"He's going to shoot anyway, especially after you left him the gun!" Danny hissed.

"Why don't you try some more of that emotional gay talk?"

"Ah, that only works the once."

"STOP MOVING!" the cop shouted as he swayed, trying to fight off his impending concussion.

"I've got to try it," Danny whispered again as he tensed himself.

"You're not Wyatt f.u.c.king Earp!" Randall hissed back in panic.

The world seemed to stop as Randall watched the cop below them tense to fire just as Danny reached for his pocket. He had no idea which of them would be successful but thankfully he was saved from the contest as the rental car exploded at the bottom of the slope.

The explosion flung the dirty cop aside as the air was filled with thunder. From the top of the slope, Randall felt the heat and rush of air that almost knocked him off his feet.

"s.h.i.t, you were right," Danny sighed beside him.

Randall turned to gloat but the air was suddenly missing from his lungs and his legs no longer worked. He looked down puzzled and spotted a red stain in the centre of his chest, a stain that started to spread outwards quickly. All he could do was to point at the red dot before he sank to his knees. "I think he fired," he gasped before he hit the ground.

Danny rolled him onto his back and knelt beside him, taking his hand.

Randall wanted to ask how bad it was but Danny's ashen face told him everything that he needed to know. "I thought I'd see the end," he coughed as the world seemed to fade away. His eyes were heavy and he had never felt more tired in his life. There was no pain, only a warm and eternal sleep to greet him. He desperately wanted to leave this world with prophetic words, but all he managed was, "b.o.l.l.o.c.ks," before he died.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

ALL THE FUN OF THE FAIR.

When Jane rounded the last bend her blissful childhood memory was shattered before her eyes.

Westhaven had been a magnet for holidaymakers, especially those with young children. The brightly coloured rides and booths had glowed with shimmering signs under the sun and had lit the sky with sparkling fairy lights at night. But now, as she pulled the car over to the side of the road, what lay beneath her view was a derelict sh.e.l.l abandoned by time and devoid of life. Her heart sank at the sight as her memories flooded back of a happy time, of a magical summer night now confined to the past. Her heart also sank at the sight of the fairground deserted: no staff, no customers, and no witnesses.

She drove down the hill into Westhaven, recoiling at the boarded-up windows and closed businesses. There was no life here, no soul anymore, only misery and paupers.

She drove through the ghost town with only the foul air for company. Shadows moved in and out of her peripheral vision as the undercla.s.s shuffled in the dark, expertly staying hidden. It seemed like every third building or so was empty and there was barely a gla.s.s pane left intact as idle hands were left to their own devices.

The drive through the town was mercifully brief and soon she was beyond the brick carca.s.ses and out to the seafront. Normally the ocean's salty air was like warming nectar to her senses, but here it was tainted as though polluted by the crumbling surroundings.

There were precious few people in sight and those that were gave her pause. Roaming groups of skinny teenagers with bad skin and empty eyes wandered up and down the front; these were predators, however young.

She drove along to the pier entrance. The large sign hung down at one end, barely hanging on to its moorings; blistered paint and rotting wood told a tale of neglect and Jane felt the sadness. She remembered the Westhaven Pier as a bustling hive of happy faces and running children, their little legs unable to handle the excitement. There had been booths and rides all along the pier, all brightly coloured and chiming with music as the summer sun set. Now the long pier was almost deserted, stripped bare of its internal organs and lifeforce.

She parked up and exited the car, feeling unsurprised at the cold nip in the air in spite of the day's temperature. She could feel the glare from a couple of youths across the road eyeing her and the car but she ignored them; the real threat was ahead.

She stepped through the pier's entrance. The huge archway had once been a gateway to fun and adventure, but now her stomach was tightly coiled in fear and apprehension.

The moon was rising fast as she walked along the wooden boards, carefully avoiding those which were too soft and spongy, and stepping over the gaps left behind as some boards had fallen into the sea some 50 feet below. The night sky was clear and the stars twinkled, merrily oblivious to what lay below. The full moon lit her way and gave enough light for her to see clearly and, hopefully, to avoid being surprised. Although she knew in her heart that her brother was done hiding, this was a reunion and one that he wanted to be crystal clear.