Part 20 (2/2)

'Yes,' said the Doctor sadly. 'A pity. A man of great promise.'

'Oh, I know,' said Denman. 'I don't like trying to imprison my relatives.'

'Cousin?' asked the Doctor.

'Three or four times removed. So is Hatch. Still, the law shows no favours to kith or kin.'

'Indeed,' agreed the Doctor. 'I am very keen to help you. I think there's much more going on here than a bit of gunrunning. Hatch wouldn't involve himself in something so mundane.' The Doctor paused. 'But there are two conditions.'

'Go on,' said the policeman suspiciously.

'That the charges against me are dropped. I won't be able to help you pursue Shanks if I'm stuck behind bars.'

Denman nodded slowly. 'If you agree to testify against Shanks, and anyone else we can implicate, then I can recommend that to the CPS. And the other condition?'

'There was a young woman arrested at the same time as I was,' said the Doctor. 'She had drugs in her bag. Shanks tried to force me to put a package there, but I refused. He found another way. I give you my word that she is completely innocent. She should be released instantly. She must be terrified.' He removed a photograph from inside the sleeve of his jacket, where it had evaded the scrutiny of the arresting officers, and pushed it across the table to Denman. 'I have no idea why Shanks should want to hurt her.'

Denman glanced at the photograph, then jumped to his feet, the chair screeching against the polished floor. He ran from the room.

The Doctor stood up. The door was wide open. He walked out into the corridor, finding himself facing the desk sergeant.

'Can you tell me which way Mr Denman went?' he asked.

'Where'd you spring from, Dillinger?' said the sergeant.

'I was talking to the Chief Constable, and he suddenly -'

There was a cry of horror from further down the corridor.

The Doctor ran down the gloomy pa.s.sageway, the sergeant at his heels. He found Denman crouched in a cell doorway, being forcibly restrained by other officers. He was shouting, hoa.r.s.ely. Beyond him, some policemen were cutting down the body of a girl which hung limply from the ceiling.

CHAPTER 8.

THE SOUND OF SOMEONE VOU LOVE WHO'S GOING AWAY AND IT DOESN'T MATTER

The scarecrow's hand pushed through the fractured hole.

The fingers were formed from intertwined flesh and stick; the tattered arm of the s.h.i.+rt revealed stalks of corn, arranged as veins. Tiny rust-coloured leaves fell like blood when the hand snagged on sharp splinters of wood.

Steven Chen backed away from the doorway. 'What is that thing?'

Ace swung round, inadvertently blinding her companion with the torch. 'You've seen Night of the Living Dead Night of the Living Dead, right?'

She glanced around the dark church. Ill-defined shapes pressed against the windows along one wall. Twigs scratched against the stained gla.s.s. Ace ran into the small northern aisle, seeking weapons or an escape route. 'They don't seem to have got around here yet,' she said, pointing to the windowed arches that ran along the wall. She jumped on to a pew, peering through the gla.s.s at the churchyard beyond.

'Of course!' exclaimed Steven. 'That part of the graveyard is completely enclosed. The wall must be holding them back.'

'Give me a hand with this, then,' said Ace. At the far end of the aisle was a bra.s.s lectern in the shape of an enormous eagle with wings spread aloft. Ace glanced at the ornate Bible, open at Isaiah. Those who hope in the Lord will renew Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.

Ace threw the book on to the floor. With Steven's help, she hefted the lectern into the air, and manoeuvred it towards the nearest window. With some difficulty they hurled it through.

The window exploded, raining coloured gla.s.s and lead on to the ground outside. Ace kicked at the hole with her boots.

'Come on!' she said impatiently, pus.h.i.+ng Steven forward.

The side door of the church burst open.

'How is he?' asked the Doctor as his cell door opened slowly.

Hill stood, silhouetted in the light of the corridor. 'About as well as can be expected for a man who'll have to bury his only child.'

'Where is he now?'

'At home. Half the middle management in the region is with him. It's sickening.'

The Doctor nodded, encouraging Hill to go on.

'He's asked for you,' said the policeman. 'He wants to talk.'

The Doctor got to his feet. 'Responsibility for one's actions,'

he said, marching towards the door, 'comes from the absolute belief in the validity of what one does. Do you understand?'

Hill stared back at him blankly. 'I don't think I understand anything any more.'

Hill drove the Doctor in silence through the leafy suburbs of Liverpool as the dawn skies grew brighter around them.

Denman's house was a mock-Tudor-fronted building set within two acres of rich, rolling lawns. The Doctor strode up the gravel drive towards the front door and tipped his hat to a young-looking WPC. She instinctively moved to bar his entry, but then saw Hill behind, and the look of tired wisdom in the Doctor's eyes, and stepped aside.

The Doctor walked towards the living room, and found it full of men with gla.s.ses in their hands, standing around looking bewildered and anxious. The room was thick with their cigarette smoke and the sound of coughing.

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