‘I’m not convinced,’ Jane said. ‘I think you’re clutching at straws; trying to make the facts fit the circumstances.’
‘I disagree,’ Raj said. ‘I think our friend here is right on the money.’
‘Raj?’ Jane said. ‘Do you want to explain what you mean by that?’
With a sigh Raj set his camera down on the table and stared across at her. He cleared his throat. ‘Ever since I arrived on the island I’ve sensed a presence. At first I thought it was the souls of the poor wretches who died here, but I opened up a little…not a lot, but enough to work out that, yes, there are troubled spirits here, but they’re just background noise. There’s another, much stronger presence. It’s controlling everything that happens here, and it’s controlling the other spirits on the island. He could be right,’ he said, pointing to Bayliss. ‘Why shouldn’t it be deMarco? I take it the rest of you are protecting yourselves?’
No one said anything, but their collective silence answered his question.
‘No, that’s okay. You’re very wise. As I said, I only opened up a little, after Kirby had her vision. I wanted to know what was going on, so I dropped my defenses; only for a few seconds but, believe me, that was enough.’
‘What happened?’ Bayliss said.
‘I’m clairvoyant,’ Raj said. ‘I get flashes of precognition; ninety-five percent accurate I’d say.’
‘So you saw the future? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes, with an error rate of about five percent.’
‘So come on then.’ Bayliss needled him. ‘What’s our future?’
‘You don’t want to know.’ Raj looked away.
‘But I do. And I’m sure the rest of them want to know as well.’ He looked about the room and saw from their faces he was right. Except for Kirby, who was shaking her head, a look of something close to terror in her eyes.
Raj looked to Carter, Jane and the others. ‘Well? Is he right? You want to know our future?’
‘I don’t,’ Kirby said quickly.
A few seconds later Jane said. ‘Go ahead, Raj. I think the rest of us want to know. Sorry, Kirby.’
Kirby’s face settled into a frown and she turned her back on the group.
Raj picked up the camera, rolling it over and over in his hands. It was a distraction, taking his mind off of what he was about to say next. He took a breath. ‘We haven’t got one,’ he said quietly.
‘What?’ McKinley said.
‘You heard me, John,’ Raj said.
There was an edge of panic to Kirby’s voice. ‘You’re wrong, Raj. You must have made a mistake… misinterpreted…’
‘As I said, there’s a five percent chance. All I know is that when I looked forward, when I tried to see what lay ahead, there was nothing. A void. Just a black, gaping hole. We don’t have a future.’
‘No!’ Kirby shouted and stood, looking about the room, wild-eyed.
‘Kirby,’ Jane said. ‘Calm down. You’re…’
She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. The window to her right exploded, sending a shower of glass across the room. Kirby cried out as needle-sharp splinters embedded themselves in her face. She threw her hands up to her eyes to protect them.
In front of Raj his camera started to vibrate on the wooden table, then it flew across the room, smashing into the bookcase, lens and body separating, back springing open, a brown snake of film escaping and spiraling across the floor.
Icy wind howled through the shattered window, billowing out the drapes, flapping them around like flags. The table started to rock violently. McKinley and Carter leapt from their seats and backed away from it, watching as the table lifted into the air and sailed across the room. Carter ducked as it flew over his head, crashing into the wall above the fireplace, smashing the large square mirror that hung there. More books launched themselves from the shelves, hurtling across the room, pages flapping like demented birds.
Carter grabbed Jane by the arm. ‘Let’s get out of here!’ he yelled above the noise of the wind. He propelled her towards the door and yanked it open. McKinley and Bayliss followed close behind whilst Carter helped Kirby; she still had her hands to her face.
‘Hold on to me,’ Carter shouted in her ear. Kirby gripped his arm and Carter made his way across the room to the door, dodging the books that were now spinning in a vortex of wind.
At the door Carter glanced back at Raj. He was standing in the center of the room, arms outstretched, an exultant expression on his face.
Jane bustled past him, back into the room. ‘Raj!’ she yelled.
Carter caught up with her and pulled her back. ‘Leave him!’
She shrugged him off furiously. ‘ We can’t just leave him!’ she yelled back at him. She took another step towards Raj, whose head swiveled to look at her. His eyes had rolled back into his head, showing only the whites, and his mouth opened. The sound that issued from his open mouth was louder than the wind, louder than the sound of crashing, splintering furniture. It was a scream, a howl, a roar; deafening in its intensity.
Jane clapped her hands over her eyes. The sound seemed to penetrate her body, vibrating, making her bones ache. She sank to her knees, her legs unable to support her. A heavy leather-bound book detached itself from the vortex and flew at her, hitting her on the temple, knocking her sideways.
Carter gripped McKinley by the arm. ‘Help me get her out of there!’
The two men barreled into the room, arms up to protect their faces from flying debris. They grabbed Jane under the arms and hauled her backwards out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Simon Crozier picked up the phone, punched in the number and held the receiver to his ear.
For a moment there was static, and then a mechanical female voice said,
‘Dammit!’ he said and slammed the phone down. He looked at his watch. He’d been trying to reach Jane Talbot for the last hour without success. The landline was dead and her cell was either switched off or receiving no signal. He’d tried a few of the others on the island with the same result.
The door to his office opened and Martin Impey entered holding a thin blue file. ‘I have the information you wanted,’ he said.
‘Information?’ Crozier was distracted. He was trying to decide whether to give Jane more time or to send a helicopter over to Kulsay to take them off.
‘The Sorority,’ Martin said, holding the file out in front of him. ‘Took some digging up.’
Crozier gathered himself and went back to his desk. ‘Take a seat,’ he said. ‘And show me what you have.’
Martin slid the file across the desk and waited while Crozier flicked it open and scanned through the pages.
‘Basically it’s a group of high-profile women who’ve banded together to perform charitable acts; hosting celebrity-studded luncheons, sponsoring music recitals, that kind of thing. I can’t really see why you’re interested in them. There’s nothing there to suggest there’s anything more to them than just a group of wealthy do-gooders with too much time on their hands.’
Crozier closed the file, then opened it again and pulled out the list of the Sorority’s members. ‘Miranda Fry,’ he said. ‘How do I know that name?’
‘Sister-in-law of the last U.S. president. She was a bit of a wild child, then she married Sebastian Fry, head of Nexus Communications, and transformed herself, virtually overnight, into a born-again sophisticate.’
‘And Felicity Coleman?’
‘Widow of Mark Coleman, the astronaut who died in a plane crash back in the eighties.’
‘The other names mean nothing to me, except for Celeste Toland.’
Martin sat forward in his seat. ‘Ah, now she’s interesting. If only for the fact that she has no history.’
