dogging his heels. With a sob of desperation, he tried to summon one last burst of energy. He couldn’t be beaten by Bennett. Not by him; anybody but him.
‘What kept you?’ Andrew Johnson said, as Eddie Farrant finally reached the Manse and collapsed on the ground beside him.
‘Twisted my ankle early on,’ Farrant lied, watching with satisfaction as Bennett took his last few steps, the agony plain to see on his face.
‘What’s up with him? Looks like he’s about to have a coronary.’
‘Yeah,’ Farrant said. ‘I nursed him home. Didn’t want to leave him behind in case something happened to him.’ He put a mask of concern over his features.
‘Regular Good Samaritan, aren’t you, Eddie?’ Jo Madley said, rubbing the sweat from her face with a towel. She turned to Casey Faraday and winked.
Casey smiled and pushed herself up. ‘I’m going for a shower,’ she said. ‘I stink like a pig.’
‘ We all do,’ Sheila Thomas said. ‘I just hope there’s enough hot water for us all.’ Last night she was last in the bathroom and the water had been running cold.
‘I could murder a pint,’ Andrew Johnson said.
‘Your round,’ Farrant said.
‘Care to join us for cocktails, girls?’ Johnson said.
Jo Madley ignored him. ‘Where’s Lomax? I thought he’d be here to meet us with his stopwatch.’
‘Don’t question it, Jo,’ Sheila said. ‘The bastard’s probably inside somewhere pulling the wings off flies.’
‘Or drowning kittens,’ Casey said.
Lomax, it turned out, was the keeper of the instructions from Waincraft. Part of his role was to set the group tasks for the day and measure the results. Today it had been a cross-country run. They were certain there were even more sadistic trials planned for later.
‘The point is, he’s not here, so let’s take advantage,’ Sheila said. ‘Race you to the bar.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Jo said, lethargically forcing herself to stand. She turned to Michael Bennett. ‘You okay, Mike?’
Bennett was still panting, trying to get his breath back. He nodded his head, unable to speak.
‘I’ll walk with you,’ she said, and took his arm.
‘You don’t have to,’ Bennett said, finally able to speak, and fell into step beside her, walking slowly.
‘I know,’ she said.
The others had almost reached the front door. Johnson looked back at them, a smirk on his face.
‘Cretin,’ Jo muttered under her breath. ‘Who does he think he is?’
‘God’s gift to the female species,’ Bennett said. He felt dreadful and was very conscious he didn’t cut a particularly heroic figure right now.
‘Then Heaven help us all,’ Jo said. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, why are you putting yourself through this?’
‘Vanity and pride, with a very large chunk of masochism thrown in,’ Bennett said. ‘Can you imagine the ribbing I would have endured at work if I’d chickened out? Those idiots would have made my life hell.’
‘Sod ‘em,’ Jo said. ‘You mustn’t let them get to you, Mike. It’s all wind and piss with them. What they lack in intellect they make up for in macho posturing. There were dozens like that at the last place I worked. I got fed up with them in the end; that’s why I left and joined Waincraft.’
‘And you find Waincraft better?’ It was the first time Jo had opened up about anything personal, even work related, although he knew her employment history from the staff files.
‘Marginally.’ That was the truth. One office was very much like another in her experience.
They reached the door and went inside. And immediately realized something was wrong.
‘What’s going on?’ Jo said.
Sheila and Casey were standing in the hallway, anxious looks on their faces. Of the other two men there was no sign.
‘There’s no one here,’ Sheila said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that. Everybody’s gone. Lomax, the house keeper, the kitchen staff, everybody.’
‘They’re probably somewhere else in the house. They can’t just have gone,’ Michael Bennett said.
‘Andrew and Eddie are checking now, but when we got here the place was as silent as the grave. And then there was this.’ Sheila walked across to the entrance to the dining room and pointed at the floor. There was a dark, wet smear across the parquet. Michael Bennett crouched down and poked the smear with his finger. When he took his hand away his fingertip was stained red. ‘It’s blood,’ he said, staring at his finger with disgust.
‘Yes,’ Casey said. ‘But whose?’
‘And how did it get there?’ Sheila said. She shivered.
Johnson and Farrant appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘There’s no one up here,’ Johnson said. ‘The place is deserted.’ They came down and joined the others at the foot of the stairs.
‘And the phones are out,’ Farrant added.
‘Okay,’ Bennett said. ‘Let’s not panic. There’s probably a logical explanation.’
‘Who’s panicking?’ Johnson said. ‘I’m going to get a drink. Anyone care to join me?’ He walked through to the small bar area to the left of the dining room. There were a few easy chairs, a couple of coffee tables and the bar itself, well stocked with spirits and bottled beer. He helped himself to a triple vodka, grabbed a bottle of tonic water from the shelf behind the bar and went to sit down in one of the easy chairs. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his sweatpants he lit one and sat back to enjoy the nicotine rush.
‘What about your cell?’ Bennett said to Farrant as the younger man pushed past him on his way to the bar.
‘No signal. Haven’t had one since we arrived. Hardly surprising really. This
One by one the others helped themselves to drinks, except Bennett who never touched alcohol these days, not since he’d ended his love affair with the bottle four years previously.
Casey Faraday took a glass of white wine across to the window that looked out over the flagstoned patio. She took one sip of the pinot grigio, then dropped the glass to the floor and screamed. By the time the others reached her Casey was crying hysterically, pointing out through the window.
Sheila grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Casey, calm down. What’s wrong?’
Andrew Johnson followed the line of Casey’s pointing finger. ‘Holy shit!’ he said.
Eddie Farrant joined him, mouth open in astonishment, face rapidly draining of color. ‘Oh my God!’
They stared through the window at the patio. Tables and chairs had been overturned and umbrellas lay on their side, rocking gently back and forth in the afternoon breeze. In the center of the patio was Guy Lomax, but only his head, shoulders and right arm was visible; it was as if the rest of him had been swallowed by the patio, as if he had sunk into the flagstones.
‘I’m sorry,’ Michael Bennett said, ‘but that’s impossible. I’m going to take a closer look.’
‘Don’t go out there!’ Casey grabbed his arm.
Bennett yanked it away. ‘Don’t be stupid. We can’t just leave him there. Anyone else coming?’
‘You’re on your own, mate,’ Johnson said. He’d resumed his seat, but he no longer looked so self-assured. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was scared.
‘Eddie?’ Bennett turned to Farrant, hoping he wouldn’t have to go outside on his own.
‘No way.’ Farrant swallowed his drink and moved to the bar for another.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Jo said.
Bennett stared at her. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Let’s just do it.’ She walked to the door. Bennett stared at the other two men with barely concealed contempt, then spun round and followed Jo out of the bar.
‘Wanker!’ Andrew Johnson said as Bennett disappeared from view.
‘Just shut up, Andrew,’ Sheila said. ‘At least he’s got the guts to actually do something.’
Johnson looked at Eddie Farrant and raised his eyebrows. Farrant looked away.
‘It’s impossible,’ Bennett said again.
‘So you said. But obviously it’s not.’ Jo Madley was crouching down, staring at Lomax.
