Steven Dunne - Deity

He tried to hold back the rising dread but now he screamed long and loud — to no avail. And when he fumbled his way, hands and knees across the slimy floor, broken shards of pottery lacerated his leathery palms.

Finally he sat motionless amongst the stinking wreckage of a former human being, trying to protect his damaged hands and sobbing as the vile moisture began to soak through his tracksuit to his buttocks.

Brook fumbled for his phone on the narrow deck. As he plucked it from his pocket, it began to vibrate.

‘John.’

‘Sir, we’ve found a witness who saw what happened to Len last night. We were right. He was abducted.’ Brook received the information without answering. ‘Are you there, sir?’

‘I’m here, John.’

‘And you’ll never guess what the abductor was driving.’

Brook emitted a short, noiseless laugh. ‘Was it an ambulance, by any chance?’

There was a pause at the other end before Noble rejoined, ‘How do you do that?’

‘It’s one case, John. Smethwick and Rusty. They’re working together.’ Brook closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Live Forever. They’re going to embalm those kids and then they’re going to mummify them. Like Tutankhamun. The tramps were just practice so they could do a good job on their perfect young bodies.’

‘And Len?’

‘Not sure, but Poole’s a pathologist. Maybe they need him for some reason.’

‘He might still be alive then. How did you find out?’

‘I found the missing poster from Rusty’s bedroom. Land of the Pharaohs . It’s about sealing a dead Pharaoh safely in his tomb. Rusty knew it would tip us off so he took it down and gave it to Smethwick to keep. It’s hung on the wall of his canal boat.’

‘Jesus. What do we do?’

‘We find them before it’s too late.’ Brook rang off. They’re dead, you know . Gadd was suddenly beside him. ‘Did you catch that?’ She nodded. ‘Find out everything there is to know about Smethwick. Everything. I don’t care how far back you go. He’s near and we’ve got to know where he’s gone because that’s where Adele and the others are.’

Poole sat with his head bowed, trying to block out the stench of human remains with the bloody handkerchief tied around his face. It wasn’t that he hadn’t experienced such smells before, just that he’d always done so in the relative comfortofhisair-conditioned,temperature-controlled Pathology lab.

Here, in the darkness, he tried to shut down all the senses he didn’t need, keeping his eyes closed and relying on his ears for sensory input. Unfortunately they registered every squelch as he shifted his position. But then his ears told him that he might have a bigger problem than the odour of human remains. Rats.

He heard them first. Only one, then another and then another darting around to investigate the smorgasbord of offal that Poole’s clumsiness had provided. His hearing became supercharged, picking up every scurry, every squeal as the rodents went about their foul business gnawing on the bloody banquet. There were other sounds that kept him alert, gave him hope. He’d heard a distant rhythmic thud from time to time that seemed to come from the bowels of the earth. It suggested some kind of building work in progress though it never lasted more than half an hour.

He also fancied he could hear someone groaning, but not out of pain or fear but the effort of some unknown hard labour. This was always followed by a hacking cough. At least someone was near, and this gave him hope.

Training his ears on his immediate situation, however, didn’t bring comfort. The increasing volume of curious rodents confirmed his worst fears and he pressed himself nervously against the cold wall. First contact was when he felt a nuzzling against his trousers and kicked out, giving rise to an intense screech that only served to amplify the sense of urgency amongst the other bustling rodents, dashing this way and that. Something ran across his hand and he pulled them both across his chest for protection, but still they kept coming. Another ran up his leg and showed no disinclination to get off until Poole flung a hand in its direction, receiving a nip on the knuckle for his trouble.

‘Please God. Not like this. I don’t deserve it. Please.’

To his horror a rat then dropped down on to his head and squealed loudly when Poole battled to disentangle it from his wiry thatch. Enduring the bites, he grappled with its slick furry body and quick tail, trying to get a grip before extricating its talons from his tonsure. Finally his grip locked and he flung the beast against the far wall with a piercing shriek. The rat’s colleagues, however, were not discouraged and Poole became increasingly frantic as four, five, six of them mounted their challenge for fresh meat.

‘Please God.’

At that moment a large vertical bar of dazzling white light opened on to Poole, widening rapidly to illuminate the stark and bloodied vault in which he sat. The rats scampered back to the sanctuary of dark corners and Poole felt emboldened to scramble to his viscera-flecked feet, gazing all the while at the radiance beyond. The intensity of the light dipped as a figure with an elongated head stepped in front of the beam. For a split second, Poole wondered if he were encountering an alien.

‘God is listening, Anubis,’ said a man’s gravelly voice. Poole saw a hand held out towards him holding a shepherd’s crook. ‘Fear not, mortal. I wear the Atef Crown of Osiris. Come.’

‘Do we know if it’s the same ambulance?’ asked Charlton back in the Incident Room.

‘Not for sure,’ said Brook. ‘But it is.’

‘But if they changed the number-plates, it’s not going to get picked up, is it?’ snapped Charlton. He looked at his watch. ‘Five minutes to broadcast. You think Rusty met Smethwick at college?’

‘Where else?’ said Brook.

Cooper and Noble walked through the door and marched over. ‘Mrs Mansell, three doors down,’ said Noble. ‘We don’t have a photograph yet but we showed her the composite. She got a good look at the guy and she’s certain it’s Smethwick.’

‘What happened?’

‘Not sure. She noticed the top of the ambulance driving into the cul-de-sac. It was dark so she went upstairs for a better view and saw Smethwick closing the back doors. A couple of minutes later he drove away and this morning she noticed Len’s Jaguar parked in the street. She didn’t see Len.’

‘Did she get a number-plate?’ said Charlton. Noble shook his head. ‘What about CCTV?’

‘None,’ said DS Morton.

‘But once we knew The Embalmer might be involved with the students, we looked at roads surrounding the Brisbane Estate for the night of the party and found an ambulance parked at the bus stop on Western Road near the new housing development. There’s a CCTV camera. It’s some way off but you can definitely see people getting into the cabin around four a.m. on Saturday morning. The techs are trying to enhance it, but. .’

‘At least we know we were right,’ said Brook. ‘They must have walked to Western Road through the fields at the back of Kyle’s house.’

‘And then where?’ said Charlton.

‘When we know that, we find our students,’ said Brook.

‘We’re rechecking all CCTV for the night of the party,’ said Morton. ‘Assuming the ambulance had the same plates as when Inspector Brook was attacked, if there’s any sighting we get an approximate location.’

‘Keep on it.’

‘DS Gadd and her team are digging into Smethwick’s past,’ said Brook. ‘Assuming Rusty Thomson’s not local, Smethwick’s background gives us our best chance to find them.’

Without waiting for a second invitation, Poole skidded towards the light with only the briefest wary glance at the gore on the floor around him. As he drew near he was able to see the shadowy outline more clearly. The figure didn’t have an elongated head but wore some kind of white headdress with feathers on the side. His legs were tightly bound and encased in a slim-fitting white robe, held in place by a long trailing sash wrapped around his waist.