his thumb and forefinger. Allander was obsessive, obsessive about finishing what he'd started. That was why he'd returned to Darby after all these years. So many loose ends to tie up, Allander had said to Jade on the phone. Were there any other loose ends that needed to be tied up?
Jade searched his brain for anything he could have forgotten. Allander had to have weaknesses he could use to his advantage. What was it Jade had told Travers earlier? I thought about the emotion that most overwhelms him. That's his Achilles' heel. His jealousy. Who would Allander be jealous of?
Studying the leaves on the ground, Jade stepped between two trees and almost toppled over the edge of a cliff. He jumped back and gazed out across the forest below. The last hint of daylight shone from beyond the horizon, and highlighted the Tower against the backdrop of the sea.
Of course. Claude Rivers. Claude, who had already raped his mother, if only her corpse. Claude, the only survivor of Allander's rampage. Claudius, the fulfiller of Allander's desires. The other loose end.
Jade leaned over the edge of the cliff, peering along its curve. Its steepness lessened drastically to his left, and he thought he could make out a path zigzagging beneath the trees. A sudden concern washed through him regarding Claude Rivers and the guard on the Tower. He had no radio, and he'd lose too much time running back to the house and finding Travers or someone else to call over and warn the guard. He'd have to rush to the Tower himself.
He turned back into the forest and ran for the path, crashing through branches and leaves. Even if Travers realized that he had disappeared and called in a helicopter, he would lose it under the cover of the trees.
Just the two of us now, he thought. It's what we've both been waiting for, isn't it Allander?
Chapter 57
Allander gazed at the clouds rolling across the full moon and wondered when the rain would come. Now that he had the ground beneath his feet, he felt himself drawn inexorably toward the Tower. In a sense, he was going home, and that was what everything had been about.
The Tower was not visible from any point within the forest, but Allander sensed its location as if aligned by an internal compass. He broke through the last line of trees and walked through the entrance to Maingate. Repairs were still underway, so the grounds were deserted, with only one guard out on the Tower. And one prisoner.
It had been a mere ten days since his escape, though it seemed like years. No one would be on guard against Allander. They were only concerned with people trying to break out of prison; they would never think anyone would be so insane as to break in.
Earlier in the day, Allander had left a bag of supplies hidden at the base of the small guard tower on Maingate's grounds. He removed a dent puller and channel-lock pliers from the bag, and scaled the short ladder. The small window to the door was double-barred. Glancing out across Maingate and the ocean, he figured that the Tower was over a hundred yards away.
Inserting the screw end of the dent puller into the doorknob lock, Allander carefully tightened the screw. Then, with a single jerking motion, he pulled the metal slide toward the handle. It gave, and he removed the entire lock assembly from the knob.
He clenched the channel pliers on the dead bolt, twisting it with all his might until he felt the retaining bolts break. Then he removed a pick from his back pocket and, using a thick hairpin for a torsion bar, jiggled the dead bolt open. He whistled 'Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho' as he worked.
The lock on the weapons cabinet was easy, and he soon had the Win Mag. 300 in his hands. It was a substantial weapon, laying heavy against his shoulder. He stepped out onto the deck, resting the gun on the railing. It was a bolt gun, holding four rounds in the mag but only one in the chamber.
He saw the black dot of the guard patrolling out on the Tower and raised the gun, leveling the scope's crosshairs on the back of his head. He squeezed the trigger slowly until he felt the gun jerk back against his shoulder. The bullet must have kicked wide because the guard never broke step. Allander ducked as the guard swept around the far edge of the circle and headed back, facing the mainland.
Allander watched him through the scope, pausing to manually recock the gun. The wind gusted strongly, whipping his cheeks, and he realized that he hadn't adjusted enough to take it into account. He peeked through the scope again, finding the back of the guard's head. Taking a deep breath and aiming a touch to the left to compensate for the wind, he fired.
The guard's arms flared and he was down and out of sight instantly. Allander smiled and lowered the gun to the deck. He continued whistling as he descended the ladder, looped the weighty bag over his shoulder, and headed out to the dock.
Jade ran off the path and sprinted through the rough terrain, cutting through the forest in the direction of Maingate. An incredible pounding started in his head as he ran along the top of a small ridge in the forest, carefully avoiding the forty-foot drop that sloped dangerously to a creek.
He felt as if he was going into the twelfth round of a boxing match. The tender burn across his face, the bruise on his cheek from Travers's blow, and the raised bump on his head took his attention in turns, each greater pain momentarily distracting him from the others.
But he recognized his headache and knew it could not be blamed on recent injuries. The systematic thudding through his temples welled from something not entirely physical. He gritted his teeth and kept running, trying to ignore the needles of pain that his footsteps sent up the back of his neck. And as he ran, the furious pumping of his legs brought him back again to the terrible day of his frenzied childhood run.
Moving swiftly through the foxtails and ignoring the blood streaming down his left cheek, the boy heard his name cried again: Jade. It was a doleful, wavering sound, and he ran more quickly, until his breath burned in his throat.
The four boys had surrounded his brother in the clearing by Mr. Hollow, and one had already knocked him down. They tore into him, kicking him about the face, the head, the arms.
Eenie meenie minie moe
There was no sign of Allander and Jade moved faster, his run edged with panic as his feet expertly gripped the uneven ground, propelling him forward. He finally caught sight of a broken sapling just on the brink of the ridge and he ran past it, barely glancing down.
Saliva drooled from his brother's chin as he struggled to his feet.
Catch a retard by the toe
One hand went to the straw by Mr. Hollow's cuff (a hand, I swear he thought it was a hand) and the other reached out toward the sun setting atop the rolling hills, showering the foxtails with orange. His mouth was awash with blood and spit and he opened it and screamed a word, one word, his last word: Jade-a sound that would echo in Jade's memory for years.
Make him holler blow by blow
A fist closed the mouth as it yelled and Jade burst into the clearing as his brother toppled backward, his hands moving dumbly in the air, one holding tightly to a few loose strands of straw. He saw the panic in his brother's eyes as he reeled backward and heard the crack as his head struck one of the jagged stones framing the site, and heard a grunt-a low grunt, like an animal's-and then that was all, and he knew he had lost him. Then he was a whirlwind of knees and fists and elbows and he had lost his hat on the ground and he didn't even know what was moving his body, but when he reached his brother there were four boys lying around him coughing blood and whimpering.
Jade ducked and dodged reflexively, his eyes straining in the faint light to spot broken branches and trampled bushes. He rounded a tree at full speed and a jagged limb caught him across the left cheek, slicing along the line of his scar. Once again, he felt the hot blood oozing down his cheek.
His focus on the path ahead was so intense that the cut barely registered. He came to a clearing and halted, unsure in which direction to continue. In the dim glow, he spotted a broken branch, and he sprinted past it, back on course.
The boys were clutching their legs and stomachs, and tears streamed down their bruised faces. The boy who was Jade knelt down in the clearing and looked into the blank eyes of his brother. He felt the hole across the back of his head when he put his hand there to hold him against his chest, and as he sat with his dead brother under the
