Compton.’ He gestured with his gun to Tanaka. ‘Let him go, Marcus.’
Marcus took his boot off Tanaka’s neck and they all watched silently as he slowly got to his feet, clutching his throat and spattered in mud.
‘Get over there with Compton until I decide what to do with you.’
With a scowl, Tanaka turned and walked over to join Compton.
‘Now for you two,’ said Wolff, turning back to Alex and Kingston.
‘You’re making a huge mistake, Wolff,’ said Kingston. ‘You haven’t believed a bloody word I’ve said, have you? You want proof? Okay, let’s all go to Compton’s office and I’ll call the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, where a young woman who handled the rose died. Then we’ll call a Mrs Cooke, whose husband dropped dead in his greenhouse after hybridizing it. She’ll tell you about two other deaths she knows were caused by the rose, one of them a little boy, dammit!’ He turned and started across the paddock toward the gate. ‘Come on, if you don’t believe me,’ he barked, over his shoulder. ‘It’s your choice. Either that or I’m calling the police.’
Alex picked up the camera case at his feet and started to follow Kingston.
Wolff ’s voice rang out. ‘Sheppard, stay right where you are. You, Kingston, stop! Turn around.’
Kingston was now half-way across the paddock. He looked over his shoulder. ‘You’re going to shoot me in front of a witness? I doubt it. You’re not that stupid, Wolff.’ He turned and continued toward the paddock gate.
Alex’s eyes were riveted on Kingston’s back. ‘Lawrence,’ he shouted. ‘Don’t–’
A shot rang out.
Kingston crumpled to the ground. He wasn’t moving. Alex stared in sickened disbelief.
Chapter Twenty-eight
When the rose perishes, the hard thorn is left behind.
Ovid
Kate stood on the painted wood porch of Compton’s bungalow, both hands gripping the wooden handrail of the balustrade that ran across the front of the house. She was trying to make up her mind what she should do next. Stay put until the police arrived, or go back to find out what was going on. Since it was Sunday – she was convinced now that it was – and also in the depths of the country, it could be some time before the police showed up. She still didn’t know for sure whether Alex was here. And what, she wondered, had happened to the caretaker and Marcus? She hoped she was wrong in thinking that the old man would be no match for Marcus. Then there was the shotgun blast – had he shot Marcus? And what about the other man – the American? Where was he and what was he doing?
She stared out over the grounds considering her next move. It didn’t seem a good idea to stay at the house, waiting for the police to arrive. Now Marcus knew where she was, that might be the worst thing she could do. No, she was going back to find out what was happening. She would just have to be very, very careful.
As she let go of the handrail, small flakes of white paint came off on her hands, which were sticky with perspiration. She brushed them off on her jeans and ran down the four steps to the path. Quickly she retraced her steps and was soon back at the barn where she’d last seen Baldie marching Marcus off to God knows where. She wasn’t sure which way to go. Where was everybody? The only sound came from the wind and the leaves falling on the corrugated roof of the barn. Knowing that she had called the police, had they all taken off? Then she heard men’s voices. She couldn’t make out what was being said. She had to get closer.
She took a few tentative steps watching for any movement in her peripheral vision. She was beginning to wonder whether she should have stayed at the house.
The voices stopped.
Kate did, too.
The jarring crack that followed hurt her eardrums. The sound of the single gunshot echoed off the buildings. Ears ringing, she turned and ran to the barn wall, crouching sideways against it as if it would protect her. She waited like that for half a minute or so, but no shots followed. The shot had come from beyond the end of the barn. It certainly wasn’t Baldie’s shotgun.
Edging forward, telling herself to remain calm, she reached the end of the barn. Flattening herself against the rough wood siding, she paused, expecting the voices to resume any moment, but there was silence. The temptation, despite the risk, was too great. She had to step out of the cover of the barn to see what was going on. She only needed to walk a few steps.
What Kate saw sent a ripple of panic through her. She almost screamed but at the last second clasped her hand tightly across her mouth.
Not much farther than a stone’s throw away, Kingston was curled up on the ground. Clearly he had been shot and was injured. Alex was bending over him. Twenty feet or so beyond them, a tall man in a windbreaker, holding a gun by his side, appeared agitated and was talking to Marcus. Behind them stood two other men. Petrified, she stood with her hand still raised to her mouth, unable to move or speak.
‘Kate!’
Alex had seen her. ‘Kate,’ he screamed. ‘Get out of here. Run!’
She hesitated for a second. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marcus leap forward. God! He was coming after her. She spun round and started running down the path past the barn.
Then she heard the gunman’s voice bark out. The words echoed in her ears. ‘Go get her, Marcus. Go get the bitch!’
Kate couldn’t run any faster. She knew that her chances of outstripping Marcus were slim. If she stayed out in the open he would soon be breathing down her neck. He probably had a gun, too. Up ahead she saw the opening to the barn. She stopped in her tracks, skidding on the dirt path, almost losing her balance. The entrance: it was her only chance. She knew it was risky, aware that she could easily be cornered in there. She took a quick glance behind – still no Marcus – and stumbled into the barn.
Coming from daylight into the semi-darkness of the cavernous barn, she was running almost blind for the first several yards. She never saw Baldie, strapped to the post. She staggered right by him, part running, part walking, stumbling over debris as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Her ankle struck something hard and metallic and she fell to the ground. Her eyes filled with tears of pain. Grimacing in agony, she got up, hobbled a few yards and started running again.
She could see better now. Sufficient light was coming into the barn through cracks and knotholes in the siding. She was scrambling through a narrow dirt corridor with stalls on each side, apparently once used for stabling. She stopped and listened. The muffled sound of Marcus’s stumbling feet was getting closer. She leapt forward, running as fast as she could along the path, praying that it wouldn’t lead to a dead end.
Suddenly the path widened and she was in a large rectangular area that looked like a hayloft. Frantically she looked around. She was trapped. Then she spotted a flight of stairs built against the wall. Without hesitating she ran up it into the loft. In the half-light she could see cartons, plastic bags and barrels stored across the width of the shed. Some were stacked high above her head. Nearby, old galvanized irrigation pipes, rolls of wire fencing, tools and lumber were stored along the wall. Gasping for breath, she hesitated on the landing, gripping the railing, uncertain whether to venture farther into the darkness.
Marcus’s words made her spin round.
‘You might as well come out now,’ he taunted. ‘Don’t make me come up and get you.’
She still couldn’t see him but knew he was right below her somewhere.
‘All right, bitch!’ he shouted.
Then she saw him racing for the steps, a gun in his right hand. She catapulted into the darkness of the loft.
Hurtling blindly across the loose planks, banging into objects in her path, Kate encountered a dark looming mass. She had stumbled against a tall stack of plastic bags. By the smell, they contained fertilizer or manure. They were piled on a platform extending the length of the barn. Kate jumped up on the platform and ducked around
