‘Good.’
The warehouse doors kept closing.
Mickey looked over at Clemens. He was staring at the warehouse but seeing past it.
The warehouse doors closed. Fennell turned to the team.
‘Ready? Go, go, go… ’
Adrenalin pumping, the driver switched on the motor, turned the engine over. Full beams. The other vans did likewise. Turned towards the gates.
Aimed straight for them.
123
‘Just stand up,’ said Glass. ‘Slowly.’
Marina, her back to him still, started to straighten up.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I didn’t think I’d find you here, Dr Esposito. The last person, in fact. Where’s your boyfriend?’
Marina nodded towards the mouth of the cave. ‘Down there.’
Glass laughed. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ said Marina. ‘Really.’
‘Well I don’t reckon much for his chances, then.’ Glass laughed. Stopped suddenly. ‘No,’ he said, more to himself than her, ‘he might get the collar. No, I can’t let… ’
Marina straightened up fully. Turned. Glass hadn’t noticed the handful of dirt, gravel and stones she had picked up. But he did when she flung it in his eyes.
He screamed, hands going to his face.
‘Bitch!’
With his eyes closed and still holding the gun, he tried to find her.
‘Come here… ’
Marina looked round quickly, assessing her options. If she ran, he would find her. No matter how much she had slowed him down, he would catch her. She wasn’t good in the woods, in the rain, in the dark.
That left only one option.
She looked straight ahead and, not giving herself enough time to think, jumped straight down the opening into the cave.
124
The Gardener lunged for Phil, blade out.
Phil knew he had to do something, tried a gamble. He stepped back. Held up the hood. ‘Careful. You don’t want this damaged, do you?’
The Gardener stopped. Stared at him. Eyes glowing with a deep, dark hatred. ‘Give me that.’
‘What, this?’ Phil had thought the hood would be important to him. He held it higher up and further back. ‘You want this?’
‘Give it to me!’ The Gardener screaming, madness and rage in his voice. ‘Give it to me… ’ He broke down into a coughing fit.
Phil watched him. He didn’t look well. It seemed like it was only madness and hatred that was keeping him going.
‘Let me out of here,’ said Phil, his voice as calm and reasonable as he could make it, ‘and we’ll talk.’
Coughing was his only answer. The Gardener bent double, back heaving.
Eventually he straightened up. There was blood round his mouth. He ignored it, simply wiping it away on his sleeve. Stared at Phil.
‘Stay there,’ he said. ‘Give me my face back… ’
‘No,’ said Phil. ‘Talk first. Mask later.’
The Gardener continued to stare, mouth open, breathing heavily, wheezing like a Tardis. Bloodied strings of saliva crisscrossed his lips, oscillated with each breath.
‘I know who you are,’ said Phil.
The Gardener said nothing.
‘Richard Shaw, right? Tricky Dicky Shaw. Psychotic ex-gangster.’
The Gardener cocked his head on one side, frowned, as if remembering a song he hadn’t heard in years.
‘Well you might not be a gangster, but you’re still psychotic. What happened?’
‘Richard Shaw… is dead… ’
‘No,’ said Phil. ‘Paul Clunn is dead.’
‘No… ’ The Gardener shook his head. ‘Richard Shaw… no longer exists.’
‘Neither does Paul Clunn. I’ve seen the body.’
‘Paul was the best man I ever met. He… he saved my life… ’
‘And that’s how you repaid him.’
No… ’ His head shaking more violently now. ‘No… When Richard Shaw came here, came to the Garden, he was… destroyed. He needed help. Rebuilding. He was seeking the truth. And he found it. Paul showed him.’
‘And you killed him.’
Another shake of the head. ‘No. No. No. Wrong. All wrong.’
‘What happened, then?’
‘Took his soul. He lives.’ He hit his chest. Winced in pain, coughed. ‘In here. Keep him in the cave. In here.’
‘Of course. The cave. It’s inside you.’
‘He saved my life. Was a… a visionary. Made me an artist. And he was… he was… dying. Cancer. We tried to save him. Gave him drugs, chanted… But no. Nothing. That was why he did the Garden. He knew. Knew he was dying. Wanted to… to… make a difference… ’
The Gardener’s eyes were shining. Lost to the present. Phil waited, knew there would be more.
‘He spoke to me alone. Asked me to… to… to kill him. To pass him over, he said. Be one with the earth. The Garden was in good hands, he said. The Elders… So I did. I made sure he didn’t suffer. Did what he wanted. And I cried. Killing him. And then… ’ He turned his head upwards. Phil saw tears in his eyes. ‘Then here he was… in me… ’
Phil had no idea whether what the Gardener was telling him was true. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get out of there and take Finn with him.
‘Paul… was the greatest man who ever lived. He showed Richard Shaw what he could become. Opened the light that shone inside him. Turned him into… me. The Gardener.’
‘How?’
‘Told me I had to look out for the Garden. Tend it. Whatever happened, I had to tend the Garden.’
‘And this is your idea of tending the Garden. Killing the people in it.’
Another shake of the head, but more to himself this time. Like he was explaining it to himself. ‘No… no… you don’t understand. I had to. Sacrifice. There had to be… sacrifice. To the earth. The seasons. For the Garden to grow.’
‘So you sacrificed children all this time. You killed children.’ Phil couldn’t keep the anger and disgust from his voice. He looked down at Finn, saw the boy huddled shivering in the corner. Eyes wide, staring. Face wet from crying.
‘No,’ said the Gardener, ‘they’re passing over. Not killed. Just passing over.’
‘Where?’
‘The earth. Part of life itself. The glorious cycle. Paul went first. He knew. Made it right for the rest to follow…
