D. Mitchell - The King of Terrors

Caroline moved swiftly over to a large green mound, deep in shadow, and hauled away a thin covering of branches to reveal a green canvas tarpaulin. She yanked it away. To Gareth’s astonishment the headlights of a 4X4 came into view. She went to the car’s door and swung it open, urging them inside.

‘Everyone except you,’ she said to Lambert-Chide. ‘You stay here. I don’t need you as insurance now.’

‘We can’t just leave him here,’ Gareth protested.

‘Well I’m not about to take him with us,’ she returned.

‘Look at him; he’s an old man, for Christ’s sake. We’re in the middle of nowhere and it’s dark. He’s over ninety!’

She shook her head. ‘Will you get it into your thick skull that this man, no matter how old he is, would have cut you both up into tiny little pieces and all for the sake of a few measly billion. He’s not your average pensioner, Gareth. He’s a cold-hearted brute, a murderer. He stays here, which is not what I’d really like to do to him; I could do far worse. Unless you’d prefer we drop him off at the Ritz on the way?’

‘Don’t trust her, Gareth,’ Lambert-Chide said, a little breathlessly after their trek through the woods. ‘She works for Doradus. Go with her and you’ll both end up dead. I can offer you something else, Gareth, something much more profitable.’

It was at this point that Erica stepped up to the old man, the gun still in her hand. ‘Ignore him, Gareth. His words are poison. All you offer, David, is misery and death. You don’t care about anything except for the pursuit of something you will never have.’ Her eyes narrowed, her jaw steeled. ‘I have thought about this moment for decades, every day since I escaped your research facility. Thinking about you standing in front of me, helpless, and me with a gun. You treated me like a lab rat, David; nothing more than an animal to experiment upon. An animal to be used, to be hunted down, to be experimented upon or exterminated. I could so easily kill you for what you did to me. For what you would have done to Gareth. But I’m better than that. And long after you’re dead and gone I shall still be here, to spit on your memory. You’ll never have what we have, David. For all your money and your influence it can only end in dust for you.’

‘You may have fooled my father, but you never fooled me, Evelyn.’

‘She’s a fraud — she admitted as much,’ said Gareth. ‘She and Muller were in on it together.’

Lambert-Chide shook his head. ‘No, she’s the real thing, Gareth. I knew all along it was a desperate ploy, to play for time, to set doubts running. To try anything possible to protect you. As soon as I saw her I knew who she was — the same bitch who tried to snare my father.’

Her anger was clear to see, but she fought to hold it in check. ‘I loved your father, David, I truly did. Do you know how rare it is to love someone so deeply, so completely, to trust them with your very life? I guess you never have and never will. You only love yourself. As you’ll also never know what it’s like to spend many, many lonely years on the run, in hiding, taking on different names, identities, unable to commit to relationships because you know they have to end sooner rather than later, so afraid of committing to anything or anyone for fear that the truth will eventually come out about what a freak of nature you are; or to watch those you love grow old and die whilst you stay forever young. How often I’ve thought about taking my own life, to end the misery and the horror. But cowardice and my beliefs prevent me from doing so. This is not a gift — it is a curse of the highest order. You cannot know what it is you want, what it is you wish for, how it crushes the soul to be wandering like a damned spirit forever and ever. But with your father it was different; I did commit, and I would have told him who I was, eventually, and I would have been glad to have shared his love, if only for a short time. Just a short time in this ceaseless, empty life of mine. But you took it away from me. You don’t deserve to live, David, because it is people like you that are the cancer in this world, not I.’ She turned away from him, heading for the car. ‘Leave him here, Gareth,’ she said dully.

‘It can’t be true…’ said Gareth. ‘It just can’t.’

David Lambert-Chide grabbed him by the arm. ‘Don’t listen to them, Gareth. Yes, it is all true. And I can make you a very rich man. You’re special…’

But the flashing of lights through the gaps in the trees at the edge of the clearing disturbed them. It was followed by the harsh sounds of feet blundering through the undergrowth.

‘This looks like trouble,’ said Caroline. ‘How on earth did they manage to find us? I was damn certain we weren’t being followed.’

Lambert-Chide laughed sardonically. ‘All my cars have tracking devices on them as a precaution. You never know when one will go walkabout.’

‘Inside, Gareth, now,’ she said. ‘No time for gawping at the pretty little lights.’

‘You really are pushing it!’ he returned.

‘I’m all a tremble.’ She got inside the cab and hit the ignition.

‘Over here! Over here!’ yelled Lambert-Chide, waving his arms energetically.

At that moment a number of loud bangs rang out, and Gareth heard the sound of bees. Then he realised they were bullets whipping close by his head. He instinctively ducked down. More shots crackled from out of the dark undergrowth, the strident sounds echoing slightly in the curve of the natural amphitheatre, and he flinched when Caroline let loose a few rounds from behind him.

‘What are you hanging around for? Get inside, Gareth!’ she hollered.

‘Gareth! Do as she says!’ Erica pleaded.

He estimated there were around three or four people out there in the bushes at the edge of the clearing, judging from the bright gun flashes. A fresh round swept the spot where he crouched and he felt that if he raised his head he’d have it blown away. Lambert-Chide was still shouting, wafting his arms like crazy. Then unexpectedly the old man staggered backwards, as if someone had pushed him in the chest with the flat of their hand. He glanced over at Gareth, a look of utter astonishment in his eyes that turned quickly to terror as his hand came away from his chest where the bullet had hit home, his fingers covered in blood. He tottered uncertainly, shaking his head defiantly before giving a rattling, rushing gasp as he collapsed.

Gareth bound over to him at a stoop. ‘He’s been hit!’ he called to no one in particular. He crouched down before Lambert-Chide. The old man’s eyes had rolled into the top of his head, almost completely white. His bony hand clutched at Gareth’s sleeve like a man tumbling down a cliff grasps at the earth to prevent the fall. He gasped out a final, gurgling breath and went completely limp, his hand slipping away.

Randall Tremain ran out into the clearing a little way, taking shelter behind one of the huge boulders, two men at his back. Thankfully the CCTV in the cell where he’d been locked away was scheduled to be checked every hour. He hadn’t had to wait long, but it had been long enough to stoke up one hell of a fury.

He pumped out a couple of shots, looking with some satisfaction at the indistinct, crumpled heap that was Lambert-Chide, laid on the ground some fifty yards away, lit partially by the headlights from the car that Caroline had gunned into action. His had been the shot that had brought Lambert-Chide down. In the confusion it would be claimed to be a sad and unfortunate accident, but Tremain had made sure to take very careful aim. He knew what the old tycoon had in store for him, after all these years of loyalty and confidence. In the end he thought he’d get in first. Consider yourself well and truly retired, you old devil, he thought bleakly.