Catch Your Death Part 21

'Get in the pa.s.senger seat.' Sampson climbed in and locked the doors. He didn't want the boy trying to escape. He stuck the robot on the backseat. He'd been successful with the teddy bear so thought he might be able to do the same with this toy. Before setting off he lit a cigarette. The boy coughed as smoke filled the car but Sampson ignored him.

The village disappeared in the rear view mirror as they made their way towards the motorway, Sampson driving fast, keeping an eye out for speed cameras. It was a simple rule: don't break minor laws; don't draw attention to yourself. He existed in the shadows, the underground tunnels, co-existing with normal society like a city fox or rat. When he killed or hurt people, n.o.body knew he was there so n.o.body looked for him. It was a trick he learned long ago. Keep moving, keep changing, live on the outside.

He looked at the boy, who sat rigid, staring straight ahead.

'Do you remember the registration of the car?'

George hesitated. 'I think it was a Y reg.'

Sampson nodded, pleased. He wasn't surprised the boy had noticed the registration. When he was George's age he had played a game when travelling with his parents. While his parents sniped and bickered in the front seats, he would note the registrations of pa.s.sing cars, a.s.signing an imaginary fate to their pa.s.sengers depending on their registration. C meant they would be crushed. B meant they'd burn. P paralysed. H heads chopped off. It was a fun game.

Sampson chucked his cigarette out of the window and followed the signs south, heading towards Heathrow. Sticking in the outside lane, he put his foot down. There were no speed cameras on this stretch of road, and Sampson eased up to eighty, then ninety. The Audi was smooth, but he noticed George grip the sides of his seat. The kid was brave, Sampson realised. Most kids would have blubbed by now. Few would have volunteered for this trip. Sampson admired that. It didn't mean he liked the boy or felt any sentiment towards him. But if George had snivelled or wept it would have been deeply f.u.c.king irritating. As long as the boy doesn't p.i.s.s me off and his mother doesn't disobey me, I'll let him live, he decided.

'Tell me about Kate,' Sampson said.

George looked at him. 'P- pardon?'

'I want you to tell me about Kate.'

'Auntie Kate?'

'Auntie Kate.'

George was quiet and Sampson began to get annoyed. Perhaps he would have to strangle the brat. But then George started to talk, as if he was reciting something he'd written for school. 'Auntie Kate lives in America. She is my mum's sister. She is quite old. She has a son called Jack. Her hair is dark brown. She is...'

'Stop. For f.u.c.k's sake.'

George clamped his mouth shut, staring straight ahead through the windscreen. He made a quiet whimpering sound.

Sampson said, 'That doesn't tell me anything. I want to hear what she's like.'

Another drawn-out silence while George thought hard. 'Don't you know her?'

'Of course I know her. I just...' Sampson trailed off. What exactly did he want? It made absolutely zero sense, but he wanted to talk about Kate. To hear someone else talk about her. Even if it was only this kid.

'What's your earliest memory of her?' he asked.

George said, 'I don't remember.'

'Think. Remember.'

Shaken by Sampson's menacing tone, George blurted, 'I was really little and she came over from America and brought us some sweets, M and Ms I think, and I ate too many and was sick.'

'What else?'

'I remember her and my dad talking about boring science stuff, but Auntie Kate made science sound interesting. Even though it's not.'

'And?'

'I don't know.'

'What does she smell like?'

'What?'

'You heard me. Tell me what she smells like.'

'I don't know.'

Sampson glared at him.

'Like perfume?'

Sampson shook his head. 'No. She smells like like water. Like a clean, pure lake. Pure, yes.'

'Water.'

'Except she's not pure.' That was right. Kate was tainted. She had f.u.c.ked Wilson. And now Wilson's brother. And in between well, who knew how many men she'd been with? But one of them was this Yank husband, Vernon, and she'd sp.a.w.ned his child. Sampson's eyes were clouded by visions of Kate naked, having s.e.x, riding some undistinguished male torso. Her eyes were screwed up tight and her skin gleaned with sweat and...

'Are you alright?' George asked.

'What?'

'Nothing.' He paused. 'You made a funny sound.'

Sampson glanced at the boy, aware that he was grinding his teeth. He exhaled through his nose and grabbed another cigarette. He wanted to talk about Kate more, but he despised himself for it. Weakness, weakness. He had to concentrate, do his job, stop thinking about Kate.

'Do you love my Auntie Kate?'

'What?'

Sampson snarled it, his voice cracking. George went rigid, flinching and waiting for the hit. But it didn't come. Instead Sampson thumped the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. What the f.u.c.k was the kid talking about? The idea that he was in love with Kate was beyond idiotic.

'Shut up and keep your eyes on the road,' he growled to himself then, addressing George, 'You know what we're looking for you, don't you?'

Quietly, George said, 'Yes.' He sounded very close to tears. His lower lip trembled and he sniffed.

'Tell me.'

'A s-silver Megan. Y reg.'

'Now shut the f.u.c.k up unless you see it.'

They continued to speed down the outside lane, both of them concentrating on the cars they pa.s.sed. They overtook three Meganes, including a silver one, but it contained a single occupant, a woman. Heathrow was sixty miles away. Worst case scenario, they would catch Vernon and Jack there. It would be a pain, having to do it in such a public s.p.a.ce, but not impossible. He had done such things before, a silent a.s.sa.s.sin, a pickpocket of lives, a body thief who vanished into the shade leaving madness and bewilderment in the light. But he would prefer to catch Vernon before that, especially as he had this kid in tow. That had never happened before.

Ten miles down the road, Sampson glanced over and saw that there were tears leaking from the corner of George's eyes, and he was leaning forward in a strange manner.

'What is it?' he snapped.

George just shook his head.

'Tell me.'

George squeaked, 'I need to go to the toilet.'

'Are you going to p.i.s.s yourself if we don't stop?'

George nodded and Sampson sighed. He didn't want the boy leaking all his leather seats. For f.u.c.k's sake. Looking up, he saw a sign for a turn-off to a service station, and without having time to work out whether he could afford the delay, he followed the signs, screeching into the car park and pulling up beside the building which contained several fast food joints, a shop for essential driving supplies like boiled sweets and p.o.r.n mags, and the toilets.

Sampson pulled into a disabled parking bay.

'Right. Come with me.'

He strode into the building and towards the toilets, George trotting along beside him. This was risky. George could start screaming about being kidnapped at any second. Why hadn't he just pulled over in a lay-by and let the kid p.i.s.s behind a bush? It was all that stuff about Kate about loving Kate. It had muddled him, interfered with his decision-making. This was not good. From the look on George's face, though, he was too frightened to do anything stupid. He'd been trained to do what adults told him. Sampson said, 'Be quick.'

He waited by the hand drier while George used the low urinal at the end of the row. Sampson tapped his foot, his face down so he didn't catch anyone's eye. The boy was taking forever. What the h.e.l.l was his problem?

Finally, George finished, zipped up and plodded mournfully to the sink to wash his hands. 'Come on,' Sampson snapped, and George followed him out.

As they walked past McDonalds, George, who was feeling hungry despite the twist of dread in his stomach, looked through the window. Sampson, who was watching him, saw his eyes widen.

'What is it?'

George averted his eyes and shook his head. 'Nothing.'

But he was clearly lying. 'Tell me or...' Sampson drew his index finger across his throat and George gulped.

He pointed through the window towards the queue. A bearded man stood with a small boy. The boy didn't look very happy, and the man appeared deeply irritated. 'That's them. That's Jack and Uncle Vernon.'

Sampson stared at them. So this was the man Kate had married; the man who had impregnated her. And there was their sp.a.w.n, with a protruding lower lip, waiting in line for a Happy Meal.

'Follow me,' Sampson said, striding off towards the exit and out into the car park. After a lull, the rain had started up again, but Sampson didn't feel it. 'Help me find their car.'

He lifted George up and, holding him on his shoulders something George's dad hadn't done for years jogged up and down the rows of cars until George pointed and said, 'There'. A silver Megane was positioned at the end of the row. Sampson's brief elation at the discovery was tempered by the ludicrousness of having a small child's legs around his neck. He was sorely tempted to chuck George into a nearby hedge.

Instead, he jogged back to the Audi, opened the doors and swung the kid down onto the back seat.

'When I give you the signal, I want you to hold up the robot. Okay?'

George hesitated.

'Okay? If you don't do it, I'll hurt you.'

The boy pressed his lips together and nodded mutely.

Sampson waited until Vernon and Jack emerged from the building. They were carrying their food, but Jack still didn't seem particularly cheerful. Sampson started the engine and drove along just ahead of them, circling the car park until he reached the spot where Vernon's rental car was parked. He waited until Vernon was looking at the car, put his foot on the accelerator and drove into the back of the Megane, smas.h.i.+ng the rear left light.

He watched as Vernon gave a shout and broke into a run.

Sampson got out of the car just as Vernon arrived. Jack lagged behind.

'What in h.e.l.l are you doing, a.s.shole?' said Vernon incredulously.

Sampson said, 'I'm sorry. It was an accident.'

'Jesus,' Vernon exclaimed, putting his hands on his head. 'I'm going to have to explain this to the rental company.'

'Your rear light is smashed,' Sampson said. 'Sorry about that.'

He didn't sound sorry.

Vernon bent down to check it just as Jack arrived. Sampson gestured at George who held Billy the robot up to the window. Jack saw, and gawped at the sight of his cousin and his beloved toy. At that moment, Sampson put his foot on Vernon's back and pushed. Vernon sprawled on the wet asphalt, his burger and fries scattering before him, and in one swift motion Sampson swung open the door of his car, swept Jack off his feet and placed him inside, slamming the door.

'What the...?' Vernon tried to get to his feet but Sampson stamped on the hand he was using to push himself up. Vernon cried out and fell back, rolling over and clutching his hand.

Sampson threw himself into his driver's seat and told George to get out. George didn't hesitate he flung open the door and jumped out, shutting Jack in behind him. Jack stared at George, at Sampson, at his daddy who was by now on his feet, trying to pull open the door, which Sampson had locked. George was crying and shouting, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' Jack hugged Billy while Sampson put his foot on the pedal and screeched away, leaving Vernon gesticulating in the rear-view mirror, his face red, his eyes clouded with anger and terror and bewilderment.

'Who are you?' Jack asked.

'My name's Mr.Sampson. I'm a friend of your mummy's.'

CHAPTER 35.

They sat in the car, outside a petrol station near Doreen's house, and listened to the ca.s.sette. Paul found himself getting drowsy just hearing Doreen's voice again, clear and low, as she conducted the relaxation that had put Kate into her trance.

'Perhaps we ought to fast-forward this bit, otherwise we might both end up in a trance every time we listen to it, and then you'll never know what you said,' he quipped. He sounded half-hearted, though, as if he were forcing himself to make a joke when he didn't feel at all like it.

'You'll have to tell me yourself, then,' Kate said, too tense to acknowledge the joke. 'Although I don't think there's any chance of that, not the way I'm feeling now. I'm too desperate to know. Shhh, listen, she's got to the counting backwards bit.'

'I'm going to count backwards from five, and click my fingers when I get to one. When I click my fingers, you will be back on the day of the fire. Five....four ...three...two...one... and you're back there. Look around you. What do you see?'

Kate held her breath. She had a vague recollection of what she'd said at the time, but it felt sketchy and distant, like a dream. Then she heard her own voice on the tape, slow but distinct: 'I'm walking towards the field at the back of the centre....it's so hot. I want to lie down because I feel ill....everything's aching...but I don't want to go to my room because Sarah's in there, and we had a row.... I can see Stephen through the window in the lab; he's working today, so I won't be able to talk to him till later. He's moving around among the benches, frowning at test tubes. I love to watch him when he can't see me. I love the way he walks, and the way his back muscles move under the white coat, when he stretches up to open a cupboard... I could watch him all day...He's so gorgeous. I'm going to marry him some day...'

Kate glanced across at Paul, wincing. 'I don't remember saying that,' she said. 'Sorry.'

Paul made a dismissive gesture. 'It's fine,' he said tersely. Then, less tersely, he said, 'No, it's really fine. Just feels a bit weird to be jealous of my dead twin, that's all... Anyway, shhh, it gets way more interesting in a minute.'

'But you're feeling ill?'

'Yes. I feel terrible. My head's throbbing. I shouldn't be surprised that I'm getting a cold, but I'm still p.i.s.sed off about it. I suppose I was lucky, last time I was here, because I didn't. It's totally unreasonable but I feel like you do when you get ill on holiday, sort of outraged. If I'm ill I won't be able to enjoy seeing Stephen so much. I decide to go for a little walk, to try and clear my head. If I'm about to be ill it might be my last chance for some fresh air for a few days.'

'Where are you now?'