‘I’ll get that,’ said Holroyd of the heavy knock at the door.
Five HCA’s were pushed inside at the point of truncheons. The heavy steel door was slammed shut and locked behind them and they ran to the windows.
‘At least we’re above water,’ said one.
‘But it’s too far to swim anywhere,’ said another.
‘And too high,’ a woman screamed.
‘What’s all this about?’ asked Holroyd.
‘Haven’t you realised we’re heading to London?’
‘The floor, it’s moving,’ said Wildflower.
They all looked down. In the middle of the room over the wall to wall zebra carpet was a small gap, slowly getting wider, and a mile below in the deep blue sea Neptune was opening his strong arms to welcome them.
The carers ran to the door trying to hammer it down. Another was hopelessly checking the ceiling for something to hang onto.
The ground was dipping in two halves like a bomb carriage about to deliver its payload. Someone lost their footing and slipped out into the sky, gone forever. Hearts were pounding, heads spinning. A carer began to pray for forgiveness.
The unopened bottle of champagne and fluted glasses slid off the table and fell into the sky, followed by the tablecloth that fluttered in the wind like a ghost. Those that held onto the furniture soon let go with their flesh burnt from the electric current that also heated the door handle.
Two carers were fighting over a small handgrip before the victor’s fingers were crushed then severed as the rail withdrew into the wall.
The trapdoor swung fully open and those left fell towards the embrace of the sea and the circling sharks who’d become accustomed to feeding time with the tasty chunks of flesh delivered from the sky.
Inside the cockpit the young captain, no older than nineteen with a face full of freckles, turned around and looked at Nabulus.
‘Don’t you ever get tired of this, Sir?’ he asked.
‘Are you kidding me,’ he replied, ‘I love my country.’
‘The VIP room is back to normal,’ said Joshua, joining them with the co-pilot looking over his shoulder.
Both men were wearing khaki shorts with long socks pulled up to their knees. A truncheon hung from their belts.
‘You know, I feel sorry for Bastian,’ said Joshua.
‘Don’t be,’ replied Nabulus. ‘I gave him every chance to close the FA892 investigation and he was foolish to be taken in by Holroyd.’
‘When did you know?’
‘The night Holroyd let him escape in the jungle confirmed my suspicions. Now, let’s divide up those gold sovereigns.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘Mandrake, is that a ship?’ asked Rebekah pointing at the white sails coming into view on the horizon.
He pushed the shovel into the ground, wiped the sweat from his brow and looked out to sea with his binoculars.
‘Another one,’ he said, as a vulture circled in the sky above his head.
He removed the pencil from behind his ear, and the notebook from his back pocket. He made a note of the date and time before returning to his task. The vegetable patches were freshly dug ready for a new generation of crops and he opened the first bag of fertilizer delivered that morning, 55919. After 100,000 the numbers began again at 1.
It was Sunday morning before church and Malthus’s service. Rebekah was pegging the washing on the line and the boys were helping Mandrake plant a row of beetroot.
The eldest boy, aged twelve, stopped work for a moment, stretched his arms, and looked at the house.
‘Dad, go and have a rest in the deckchair,’ he said. ‘You’re not getting any younger.’
* * *
Across the country and further up the coast, a new immigrant swam ashore into the welcoming arms of the villagers. There was a long scar above his right knee, and another under his right arm where his dob would normally be. He waved out to sea and bade farewell to the ferryman paid in gold coin before returning his attention to the smiling faces.
‘Tell me, do you have any need of a beekeeper?’ he asked.
~ FIN ~
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