Читать книгу The Nemesis Program - Scott Mariani, Scott Mariani - Страница 15

Ben and Roberta made their way down from the scaffold. The gun he’d tipped over the edge was scuffed from its impact against the ground, but weapons of war could take the odd knock or two. He dusted it off and kept it ready, just in case, as they headed back towards the building where they’d left the younger man lying unconscious.

When they reached the spot, Ben saw with a sinking heart that the worry that had been growing inside him was proved right: the house was empty. All that remained of the gunman was a thin trail of blood where he’d picked himself up and managed to escape. Where he was now was anybody’s guess.

‘It’s my fault he got away,’ Ben muttered in self-reproach as they left the construction site behind and hurried back across the field towards the park. ‘I didn’t hit him hard enough.’

‘Hey, any harder, you’d have killed him,’ Roberta said, then added glumly, ‘Either way, we’d still be back to square one. So what happens next?’

‘You got what you came for,’ Ben said. ‘Me. And I want to know more about all this physics research stuff.’

‘I told you just about all I know.’

‘Then we’ll have to figure it out the hard way,’ he said. ‘Bit by bit, one piece at a time. How’s the ankle?’

‘Hardly hurts anymore.’

‘Good, because we’ve got some travelling to do.’

Reaching the edge of the park, they climbed back over the wall, passed the bullet-riddled bench and walked along the footpath towards the car park. Ben had the MX4 wrapped up in an old cement bag he’d picked up from the building site. The last thing he needed now was ‘MACHINE GUN PHONEY VICAR IN POLICE CHASE’. He already had more to deal with than he even wanted to contemplate.

As they approached the car park, Ben saw the black Audi S6 performance saloon sitting empty next to Roberta’s rental Vauxhall. He reached in his trouser pocket and, gingerly against his bruised thigh, drew out the Audi ignition key he’d taken from the shooter he’d knocked out. He pressed the key’s remote button and wasn’t surprised when its central locking system clunked open with a bleep and a flash of indicators. The gunmen were as well equipped for travel as for killing.

‘Better get your stuff out of there,’ he said, pointing at the back window of the rental, to where Roberta’s small travel bag was sitting on the rear seat. ‘We have to ditch your Vauxhall.’

She frowned. ‘You figure that’s how they tracked me all the way out here?’

‘Did you stop for fuel on the way? Pay by credit card?’ he asked her.

‘I was running on fumes by the time I reached Oxfordshire. Had to stop at the filling station just before the village. Didn’t have any UK currency on me. How was I supposed to know they could follow my movements?’

Ben didn’t reply. The implications were as deeply worrying as they were far-reaching. They were sinking in for Roberta too. ‘What you’re saying, it’d mean—’

He nodded, and finished the sentence for her. ‘That whoever these new friends of yours are, they’re considerably more organised and deeper inside the system than the charming bunch who were trying to kill you before. You certainly pick them.’

‘I didn’t pick anyone. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘Someone seems to think otherwise.’

‘But who? Who?’

‘They,’ he said. ‘You said it yourself, they don’t want anyone to know who they are. All I know is, this is going to make last time look like a cakewalk.’

‘You always did have that reassuring way about you,’ she muttered as she unlocked the Vauxhall to get her travel bag.

‘Leave the key in it,’ he told her.

Reluctantly, she tossed the key on the front seat and slammed the door. ‘The rental company will totally blacklist me, not that it matters right now.’

‘Join the club,’ Ben said. He’d long ago stopped keeping count of the number of hire cars that had been crashed, burned or shot to pieces while in his charge. Theologians shouldn’t have these problems. ‘Now, give me your phone, please.’

‘My phone?’ she said guardedly. ‘What do you want it for?’

‘Just give it here,’ he said, holding out a hand. She hesitated, then slipped a BlackBerry out of her pocket and passed it over. Without a word, he dropped it on the concrete at his feet, dashed it to pieces with the heel of his shoe and kicked the plastic fragments into the bushes.

‘You sonofabitch, that’s the second time you’ve done that to me. Now I’ve got no phone!’

‘And now there’s one way fewer of tracking your movements,’ he said.

‘Bullshit. Nobody can track a cellphone without an official warrant.’

‘Ho, ho. You say I’m talking bullshit?’ He walked up to the Audi and yanked open the driver’s door. He wasn’t expecting to find any clues inside the vehicle as to the gunmen’s identities or who they worked for, but the car itself would do to get out of here before whoever they were sent in reinforcements to finish the job. He tossed the wrapped-up gun on the back seat. ‘Let’s move.’

It was almost two o’clock when Ben turned the powerful car in through the vicarage gates and rasped to a halt on the gravel. Roberta had gone very quiet. ‘You all right?’ he said, laying a hand on her arm. Her muscles felt hard and tense. She gave a quick nod. Pointed at the dusty Suzuki four-wheel drive that was parked in front of the vicarage. ‘Someone’s here.’

Ben had already noticed it. The Grand Vitara’s rear hatch was open a foot and tied down with a strap. A huge rolled-up Persian rug was protruding a yard from the gap.

Brooke’s car. Normally the sight of it, and the anticipation of seeing her again, would have made him break into a smile. Now it was different. Now he had to try to figure out what he was going to say to her, and it wasn’t going to be easy for either of them. He swallowed, gripped the steering wheel for a moment, then murmured ‘Fuck it’ and swung open the Audi’s driver’s door.

‘You want me to stay out?’ Roberta asked, seeing the troubled look on his face.

‘I’m not leaving you on your own.’

They crossed the yard to the front door and Ben let them inside. The sound of intense jazz fusion and cheerful conversation were wafting down the hallway from the half-open kitchen doorway, together with the smell of fresh coffee. The track playing was ‘Miles Runs the Voodoo Down’, Jude’s favourite from the Bitches Brew album Ben had introduced him to. The voices were Jude’s and Brooke’s. Ben couldn’t make out what they were talking about.

‘I’ll hang back here,’ Roberta whispered in the hallway, nudging him.

Ben took a deep breath, walked to the kitchen door and stepped silently through it. Neither of the room’s occupants sensed him come in.

Brooke was standing with her back to the door and her auburn hair lit up by the sunshine from the window. She was wearing faded jeans and a light cotton top and holding a mug of coffee in her hand.

‘I didn’t have the heart to tell Amal that a rug that size is never going to fit in the house in Jericho,’ she was saying. ‘It’s large enough for a palace. So sweet of him to get it for us, though.’

‘Those things cost a bomb,’ Jude said. ‘I thought Amal was this struggling writer whose plays nobody wants to see.’

‘He is,’ Brooke laughed. ‘Where all the money comes from is anyone’s—’

She broke off mid-sentence as Ben walked further into the room, and turned towards him with a beaming smile.

‘Ben! I was just telling Jude about the amazing rug that Amal’s bought for us …’ She suddenly interrupted herself. ‘Why are you dressed like that?’

Ben walked over to the CD player on the kitchen surface and turned off the music, plunging the room into sudden silence. ‘Brooke,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’

She set her mug down on the table and took a step towards him, alarmed by the gravity of his expression. ‘What? Ben – what’s up? You’re scaring me.’

‘Things may have to be put off for a while,’ he told her.

‘Things?’ She groaned. ‘Oh, no. Don’t tell me there’s a problem with your course.’

‘I’m not talking about the course,’ he said.

‘Then what?’ Her eyes suddenly widened. ‘The wedding rehearsal? The booking’s fallen through?’

‘Nothing’s fallen through,’ Ben said. ‘But we have to call it off. And …’

‘What?!’ Jude exploded.

Brooke looked as if she’d been punched. ‘And?’ was all she could blurt out.

Ben said nothing. Hoped that the look in his eyes would tell her what he couldn’t bring himself to come out with.

Her face paled. ‘Surely you don’t mean … you don’t mean the wedding too?’ she said in a low, trembling voice. ‘Call off the wedding?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ben said. ‘I have to leave. I can’t say when I’ll be back.’

‘What are you on about?’ Jude burst out. ‘Are you taking the piss?’

‘Back from where?’ Brooke asked. She sounded stunned, breathless.

‘I don’t know yet, not exactly,’ he said. ‘I just know I can’t stay here.’

‘But why?’ she pleaded.

Jude had stepped closer to stand at Brooke’s elbow, staring at Ben in dismay with his arms folded.

‘Jude, would you excuse us for a moment?’ Ben said.

‘Excuse you?’ Jude answered.

‘I’d like to be alone with her,’ Ben said. ‘So get out.’

Brooke held up a hand. ‘No. I want Jude to hear this too.’

‘Fuck, yeah,’ Jude said. ‘I’m staying right here. This is my house, remember.’

‘Fine,’ Ben said, trying to stay calm. ‘Let’s all talk.’

‘What’s this about, Ben?’ Brooke asked coldly.

‘I don’t even know what it’s about,’ Ben said. ‘All I know is that something’s cropped up and I have to leave right away. There’s no choice.’

Brooke had her hands on her hips and her face was flushed. ‘No choice!’ she yelled. ‘Ben! Have you gone mad? You made a choice! You chose to marry me – now you’re saying you want to run off again without a word of explanation? What am I going to say to everyone? “Oh, Ben just decided to go off for a few days?”.’

Ben was about to answer when he heard a light, hesitant tap on the kitchen door behind him.

‘Who else is here?’ Brooke said, looking past his shoulder with a frown. Her face went dark as Roberta walked into the kitchen. ‘Ah. Now I think I know what “cropped up”,’ she seethed at Ben, pointing at Roberta. ‘Her. Am I right?’

‘You must be Brooke,’ Roberta said, approaching her with an uncertain smile. ‘I’m Roberta Ryder. Listen, I don’t want to be the cause of any dispute between—’

‘I know who you are,’ Brooke interrupted. ‘Ben doesn’t like to talk about you. Now I’m wondering why.’

‘Roberta needs my help,’ Ben said.

‘And where the hell did she come from all of a sudden?’ Brooke demanded.’

‘Canada,’ Roberta said. ‘By way of Paris. I—’

Brooke rounded on her. ‘Do you mind shutting up for a moment while I speak to my fiancé?’ Then, turning back to face Ben: ‘And so you’re just walking out on me?’

‘It’s not as if I want to.’

‘But you’re going to all the same.’

‘Ben,’ Roberta said, touching his shoulder. ‘It’s okay. I understand. You don’t have to do this.’

‘I’m involved now,’ Ben said, keeping his eyes on Brooke. ‘I can’t just back out.’

Jude was shaking his head in consternation, staring at Ben as if to say ‘what is the matter with you?’.

‘Maybe I was dreaming,’ Brooke said, tight-lipped, ‘Or maybe I was delirious from fever. But I remember very clearly how, that day in the middle of the jungle when you asked me to marry you, you swore to me that there’d be no more of this running off on these insane adventures and scaring the shit out of me all the time, not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece.’ Her tone began to rise. ‘Didn’t you make that promise to me, Ben? All about how you were going to change your ways? Telling me all you wanted was to be at home with me?’

‘You didn’t dream it,’ he replied. ‘You weren’t delirious either. I did say those things. And I meant every word.’

‘You mean you meant them then. But you don’t mean them now.’

‘Try to understand,’ he reasoned. ‘Roberta’s in danger. Look at me. Look at her. She needs my help.’

‘Well, I’m sorry if Roberta’s in trouble,’ Brooke burst out. ‘We all have our problems. Why does this have to become mine? Why does it have to be you? Is there no other man in the world who can help her?’ She turned furiously to Roberta. ‘What are you doing, you stupid bloody bitch?’ she yelled in a voice close to breaking. ‘Why can’t you stay out of our lives?’

Roberta looked down at the floor and didn’t reply.

‘It’s not her fault,’ Ben said. ‘She’s got mixed up in this thing, and now I’m mixed up in it too. Brooke, please listen to me.’ He looked to Jude for support. ‘Come on, back me up here. Talk to her.’

Jude scowled at him. ‘Hey, Dad, it’s your problem.’