Part 20 (2/2)

'No, I'm afraid not. Not since the wedding in any event.'

'Please try to find her, and tell her to contact me urgently.' She disconnected and looked at Hector. Her eyes were filling with tears.

'She has disappeared,' she said miserably. 'And here we are stuck helplessly in this stupid d.a.m.ned machine over the Atlantic. What can we do?'

'Paddy is in Vancouver. He's attending a seminar there. He gave me his number.' He searched quickly through the names listed on his mobile phone. 'Here it is.' He dialled and within a very short time Paddy's familiar brogue echoed from the speakers.

'This is O'Quinn. Who is calling?'

'Paddy, this is Heck. We have a red alert.'

'I'm listening. Tell me about it, Heck.'

'Hazel's mother has been murdered in Cape Town. Her corpse was decapitated and her head was taken by her killer. The whole business stinks of the Beast. Now Cayla seems to be missing from her school at Denver. We are returning as fast as we can, but we have only just taken off from South Africa. You must take a charter flight to Denver, Colorado. That is where Cay was last seen four days ago. Go there and find her, Paddy!'

'Right away, boss,' said Paddy. 'First thing to do is file a Missing Persons. Who was the last person to see her?'

'As far as we know, it was her boyfriend, Simon Cooper.' Hector gave his phone number to Paddy.

'Tell Hazel not to worry. It never helps at all.'

'Call us every hour, Paddy, even if you have nothing to report.'

Within eight hours Paddy was with the Chief of Police in Denver. They had an all-points bulletin out for Cayla. All the local radio stations and TV stations were broadcasting appeals for information and displaying Cayla's photograph. Police officers had been sent out to grill Simon Cooper and all the other students in Cayla's cla.s.s and dorm.

'Nothing definite yet, Hector. But everybody is working on it. Cayla hasn't slept in the dorm for the last three nights, nor has she attended her cla.s.ses since Monday. I have just this minute spoken to the Chief of Police in Houston. He knows Hazel well. Big respect. He is sending out his people to visit all Cayla's usual haunts.' When the BBJ landed at Atlanta to clear customs and immigration Hector called Paddy immediately.

'We have to make a decision, Paddy. Do we fly to Houston or Denver? What is your advice?'

'Half an hour ago we received a tip from the local TV station. A caller thinks he recognized the photograph of Cayla. He thinks he saw a girl like her on the flight from Denver to Houston two days ago. So the main search moves to Houston.'

'Please G.o.d, let it be her,' Hazel breathed. 'Tell Peter to file a flight plan for Houston. I'll call Agatha to have a car for us at the airport. It will be after midnight before we arrive.' Both of them managed a few hours of broken sleep on the last leg of the flight, but they were exhausted when they at last reached the Bannock homestead. All the lights were on in the house and Agatha met them at the front door.

'Any news?' Hazel demanded.

'I'm so sorry, Mrs Cross. I have heard nothing more since we last spoke. They are trying to contact all the pa.s.sengers on the flight that Cayla may have been on.' As soon as they were in the suite they called Paddy again.

'Nothing more for the moment,' he told Hector. 'Why don't the two of you try to get some sleep? It looks as though you are going to have a hectic time over the next few days. I will call you again the minute I have anything new to report. I promise you that.'

'All right. That's what we'll do, Paddy.'

Hector reached out in his sleep, but although the sheet was still warm from Hazel's body the bed beside him was empty. He was wide awake instantly and reached out to touch the pistol that always lay on the bedside table.

'Hazel!' he said sharply.

'I'm here.' She was standing by the window.

'Come to bed,' he ordered.

'I thought I heard something.'

'What was it? I heard nothing.'

'You were asleep,' she said. 'Perhaps I was dreaming.'

'Come to bed, my love.'

'I have to use the bathroom, before I burst.' She moved across the room, a slim silhouette against the moonlight coming through the windows. She went into the bathroom and switched on the light. She paused in surprise. There was something on her marble vanity top that had not been there when she went to bed. It was a large object with a loose white cloth draped over it. She crossed the room slowly and cautiously; then she saw that there was an envelope propped up against the package. It was embossed, the kind that usually contains a greeting card or a message from the giver, from a lover.

'Hector!' she whispered aloud. 'He knows me so well; how I love presents from him. The darling is trying to comfort me.' She picked up the envelope. It was not addressed, and the flap was not sealed. She opened it and slid out the card it contained, then stared at it in bewilderment. It was not written in English but in some eastern script.

'Arabic?' She was not certain. She looked down at the covered object, then reached out and took a corner of the cloth. She drew it aside, to reveal two large gla.s.s bell jars, the type in which laboratory specimens are preserved. Still puzzled, she stooped to make a closer inspection of the contents of the jars.

Then she screamed. It was an expression of the wildest, deepest anguish of the soul. She reeled backwards and fell to the white-tiled floor. On her hands and knees she scrambled to the further corner of the room and curled up there like a wild animal in a cage. She began to urinate in a hot gush down her legs. She opened her mouth to scream again, but a powerful projectile stream of yellow vomit shot out of her mouth and cascaded halfway across the tiled floor.

Her scream had electrified Hector. He bounded out of the bed and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the pistol. As he raced across the bedroom he cycled a round of ammunition from the magazine into the breech. He burst into her bathroom with the pistol levelled in a double-handed grip. He crouched in the doorway covering the room. He saw her curled up in the corner, and smelled the reek of fresh vomit and urine in the air. He felt sick with dread.

She is hurt, he thought, wounded. wounded. He went quickly to her and knelt at her side. 'Hazel, what happened? Was there somebody here? Why are you so frightened?' He put out his hand to her but she s.h.i.+ed away from him, shaking her head and pointing at the vanity shelf. He turned quickly, with the pistol aimed and his finger resting on the trigger guard ready for a snap shot. He went quickly to her and knelt at her side. 'Hazel, what happened? Was there somebody here? Why are you so frightened?' He put out his hand to her but she s.h.i.+ed away from him, shaking her head and pointing at the vanity shelf. He turned quickly, with the pistol aimed and his finger resting on the trigger guard ready for a snap shot.

Then he saw the two bell jars. It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. A disembodied human head floated in each jar filled with colourless preservative spirit. In the lefthand one was the head of Grace Nelson. Her eyes were closed and her skin was yellow with age, bagging and pouched. The thin silver strands of her hair were plastered across her face like seaweed. She looked very old, as if she had been dead a hundred years.

In the righthand jar was the head of Cayla Bannock. Her eyes were open. They seemed to be looking directly at him. They were no longer bright sparkling blue. They were dull and expressionless as pebbles. Her lips were slightly parted and her white teeth showed in the vestige of a cynical smile. Her skin was pale, but smooth and flawless. Her hair floated around her face in a golden cloud. It seemed as though she had just woken from a deep sleep. He knew if he looked upon her loveliness for another instant his heart would break.

He stooped and picked Hazel up in his arms and carried her through to the bed and laid her upon it. He picked up the bedside intercom and dialled Agatha. She answered almost immediately.

'Get the security guards to search the house and grounds for an intruder. Call the police. There has been a murder. Then we need a doctor for Hazel.' He paused. 'It's an emergency.' He stripped off Hazel's nightdress, and wiped her face and body with a damp towel. Then he covered her with a duvet, and came under it with her, taking her in his arms. She clung to him. Her whole body was shaking and her teeth chattered. Terrible, gut-wrenching sobs came up from deep inside her. He held her and whispered endearments to her until the doctor arrived.

'My wife has lost her daughter. It has been a terrible shock,' Hector explained.

The doctor gave her an injection that dropped her into a deep dark hole of unconsciousness. 'I want to take her to my clinic, and have a nurse attend her day and night until she recovers fully,' he said.

'Good!' Hector agreed. 'Things are going to happen here that she should not be involved in-' He broke off as they heard the police sirens racing through the paddocks towards the house.

'I will call for an ambulance right away.'

After Hazel was carried downstairs on a stretcher, Hector kissed her unconscious face and watched the ambulance drive away. Then he returned to the bathroom and covered the two pathetic heads with the white cloth. He opened the envelope and read the Arabic script on the card.

'The blood debt is four. Two heads taken and two more to take before the debt is paid in full.'

Seven days later the Denver police recovered the decapitated body of Cayla Bannock from a storm drain at the back of the sports arena in the grounds of the university. People had called to complain of the smell. The corpse was in an advanced stage of decomposition. The undertakers sealed it in a lead sheath and then laid it in a white marble sarcophagus along with the embalmed heads of Cayla and her grandmother. The lid of the sarcophagus was engraved with both their names. A charter flight delivered it to Steam Boat Springs and a hea.r.s.e carried it up to the Bannock mausoleum on Spy Gla.s.s Mountain. On the same day in South Africa the remains of Grace Nelson's body were cremated and uncle John scattered her ashes on the Dunkeld vineyards.

Only a handful of close family and friends attended the interment on Spy Gla.s.s Mountain. The sarcophagus was placed on a pink marble plinth to the right of Cayla's father. The priest who had baptized Cayla conducted the simple service. There were no speeches. Afterwards each of the mourners placed a single red rose upon the lid of the sarcophagus as they filed out. Simon Cooper was amongst them and he wept openly.

'I will never know another girl like her. We were going to be married and have a home and babies. She was wonderful.' He broke off. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Bannock, I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself.'

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