pointed a finger. It was an unnecessary complication to the situation but, guilty or not, Cora wasn't going to suffer in their hands. He intended to keep a good watch on her.
As the car rounded a bend, Kline's hand flopped down by his side, its fingers curled into a claw.
Halloran noticed that small sections of skin were whitish, as if about to peel off.
'Is good to be away from city,' came Palusinski's voice from the front. 'Air is cleaner here. My father was farmer, Mr Halloran, rolnik, so countryside is my love. Cities are bad place for me.'
'Where in Poland d'you come from?' Halloran asked with no real interest.
'Ah, it is of no importance.' Palusinski tapped the steering wheel. 'I am here now, is all that matters. He
. . .' the Pole inclined his head towards the sleeping man and Halloran was surprised to catch the hint of a sneer in his tone '. . . bring me here many years ago, take me from my beloved country.'
'You could always go back,' Halloran suggested, watching the road which was becoming familiar as they neared the estate.
'Back?' Palusinski uttered a bitter chuckle. 'To what go back? To Russians who bleed Poland dry? I stay here, I drink. Yes, I stay here where everyone is friendly, and food is good!' He laughed aloud and thumped the steering wheel.
The gates to the estate were not far away and Halloran checked the front and rear windows yet again.
Only the Shield vehicle was bringing up their rear. The Mercedes swung in towards the iron gates and stopped no more than a foot away from them. Kline stirred but did not awaken.
Halloran opened his door and stepped out, walking to the edge of the road, and waited for the Granada to pull up beside him. He leaned forward, one hand on the roof, as the passenger lowered the window.
'Contact the patrol and make sure everything's okay. I'll meet you back here . . .' he lifted his wristwatch
'. . . in three hours.'
'Anything extra we should do?' the driver called across his passenger.
Halloran shook his head. 'Just patrol, the full tour. Don't come into the grounds.'
'What if we spot someone?' the man nearest said, plainly irritated.
'Use the RT to let me know. Don't come in.'
'Why the hell not?'
'You wouldn't like it.' Halloran straightened, examined the roadway in 'oath directions, then walked to the gates. He heard the Granada speed away as he reached out and grasped one oh the thick iron struts.
There came a dull, heavy click .and he pushed against the metal. The gate swung open, a grating of rusted hinges accompanying the sluggish movement. Halloran took it Fit the way back, then did the same with the other half. feeling oh-served from the lodge-house as he did so.
Another resolution for Halloran: he was going to confront whoever it was inside that place, the person who guarded the gate, who was master of the dogs. He would visit the lodge later, and this time he would find a way inside. Before leaving Magma, he had discussed the vulnerability of the Neath estate with Charles Mather, and the Planner had promised to raise the matter with Gerald Snaith, after which an ultimatum would be delivered to Sir Victor Penlock: either adequate defences were installed around the house and grounds, or Shield would be forced to relinquish the contract. The enormous sums of insurance money involved would ensure the alliance of the Lloyd's underwriters. Mather had been horrified to learn there were jackals roaming the estate, and perplexed when Halloran had told him that he had not yet met the lodge-keeper to discuss any emergency measures. Arum business altogether, Mather had voiced in his dry manner. Time to lay down stricter ground rules.
Halloran waved the Mercedes through, then closed the gates. There was a solid permanence about the thudded dunk as they locked together.
He climbed back to the car and as it pulled away, Palusinski said cheerfully: 'No dogs to bite you today.'
Halloran frowned. 'Where are they kept?'
'Kept?'came the reply. 'You mean caged? Hah!These beasts wander freely, they go where they please.'
'They're not much in evidence.'
'We are not hostile.'
'Yesterday . . . ?” 'You were alone. And perhaps they sensed . . .' Halloran wondered why the Pole did not complete the sentence.
'They tend to keep under cover in the daytime,' said Cora, twisting in her seat. 'They dislike people, they keep away from them. But at night they prowl.'
'And search out intruders,' Palusinski finished.
'Have there been any?' asked Halloran. 'Intruders?' Palusinski giggled. Cora said, 'There have been one or two trespassers, but they've always been frightened off.'
'They were lucky they weren't savaged,' Halloran commented.
'No, the jackals didn't touch them. They were frightened off by . . . other things.'
'I don't understand. What things?' Palusinski giggled again. 'Wood devils, Pan Halloran. You have not heard of the wood devils?' The house, its walls a deeper and duller red under the overcast day, came into view. Cora turned away from Halloran, as if unwilling to continue the conversation, but he leaned forward and grasped her shoulder.
'What does he mean, wood devils'? What's he talking about'?'
'ft's nothing, Liam. Really it's nothing.'
'But explain to him,' said Palusinski, his tone bantering. He ,notched a quick look at Halloran, eyes small and squinted behind his wire-framed spectacles.
'They're only images, no more than that,' Cora said quickly. -Felix can project mental images, make a person see what isn't really there.' Oh yes, Halloran knew that. He had seen such visions far himself in the lake.
'Felix senses when the dogs are alerted. I don't know how it's as if there's some kind of telepathic link between himself and the animals. He doesn't even have to hear the jackals to know there are trespassers in the grounds.' Halloran started to understand why Kline felt so secure within his own territory. The man had his own inbuilt alarm system, according to Cora, and his own defence weapon. With such power, no wonder his subordinates feared him.
The car drew up outside the house and Cora leaned aver the back of her seat to rouse Kline. 'Felix.' she said„ quietly at first, then again, louder, when there was no response.
'Felix, we're here.' Cora reached dawn and tapped his knee. The dark-haired man, curled up into the corner of the Mercedes, twitched but did not awaken. She shook his leg this time .and repeated his name more sharply.
Kline stirred, his legs stretched. He mumbled something and began to push himself up in the seat.
'We're home?' he asked, voice slurred with tiredness.
'Yes, Felix, we're at Neatly' Cora told him.
'Good,' he said, 'good.' He turned, sitting upright, one hand touching the door lever.
Cam's gasp stopped him. Her eyes were wide as she stared.
Halloran had become still.
Puzzled, Kline looked from one to the other and, as he did so, flakes of skin shed from his face. A face that was bubbled and broken, thin tissue hanging loose in layered scales.
As he frowned, more pieces fell away, falling lightly onto his chest and lap. He began to tremble.
32 A SHEDDING OF SKIN
The gun was in Halloran's hand before the bedroom door was fully open.
Cora stood in the doorway, frightened by the weapon. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I should have knocked.' He waved her in, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up. He put the Browning back on the bedside cabinet.
'How's Kline?' he asked.
Cora closed the door and leaned against it, her hands behind her. 'He hasn't left his room since we got back.'
'Have you sent for a doctor?' She shook her head. 'Felix won't allow that. He told me he suffers from psoriasis, a rare type of skin complaint that recurs every few years, but it's nothing to become. alarmed
