Chapter Forty-four

As she was driving up the dirt path that led away from the road, the full weight of what she was doing hit Katie hard. She fought down an urge to stop and reverse out of here. To go home. But if she did that, what would happen to Chris? And so she forced herself to continue. A few minutes later, the trees fell away, revealing a windswept field ahead of her, an old mansion house squatting in the center. There was something dark and hooded about the way the windows seemed to watch her as she drove closer. The building itself appeared even blacker than the dark-gray clouds that filled the sky above.

Not totally black though.

Most of the property was shrouded in darkness, but as she parked up behind the car that was already there, she noticed a soft glow coming from high above. She stared up through the windshield and saw a broken-down section of blackened stone around what had once been a window. The light was coming from in there.

What was this place?

She wondered if it belonged to the man she was here to meet. It was a building that felt well-suited to someone both obsessed with the murderabilia of Jack Lock and rich enough to pay for it. But although the property seemed vast, there was also something dilapidated and abandoned about it.

She looked down again.

There was nobody visible in the car in front of her, and the enormous wooden doors of the house were open. Whoever she was meeting was already inside. Perhaps they were even three stories above, where the glow was coming from.

Waiting for her.

But so was Chris.

She looked at the ground by the door and noticed there was a long, thin stretch of tape trampled into the wet ground there. And when she realized what she was seeing, she blinked.

The remains of a police cordon.

She stared at that for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, and then picked up the book from the passenger seat. Even through the plastic, her fingertips tingled from the feel of the thing.

"Okay," Katie said quietly. "You know what you have to do."

She got out of the car, pulling her jacket around her against the wind. It was much colder here than it had been back on the road. Despite the vast house, it seemed like a wild and untamed place. Isolated and exposed. She left the car door open behind her and walked slowly across the gravel toward the open door.

And then she stepped over the old police cordon and went inside.

It was dark over the threshold, but enough of the gloomy light was spreading in from outside to give an impression of the huge, open space ahead of her. She registered the black-and-white-tiled floor. The dark doorways leading off to either side.

And then a steady tapping noise began echoing around.

She waited. A few seconds later, she saw a figure was making its way down one of the two staircases ahead. A man. He was moving slowly, taking his time. When he reached the bottom, she registered how old he was and wondered if the care he was taking was due to his age. But as he began to approach her across that chessboard floor, the impression disappeared. Be careful, she told herself. Because there was a confidence to him—a sense of strength and power—that set an alarm ringing inside her. However old he was, he was clearly dangerous.

He stopped in the middle of the floor and smiled politely.

"You must be the sister," he said.

She looked around again. The doorways on either side of the entrance hall remained dark. The old man had come down alone and there was no sign of her brother.

"Where's Chris?" she said.

The old man smiled again.

"He's safe for now. And he will be even safer in a few minutes when we've conducted our business. But after his behavior last night, neither of you can blame me for taking precautions. He didn't bring the book to that exchange, and so, for this one, I have not brought him. But he's safe right now. I am a man of my word."

He had stopped at the edge of where the light from outside could comfortably reach, and beyond that impression of old age, it was hard for her to make out any of his features. But from what she could see of his smile, she didn't trust it. And while his tone of voice was superficially pleasant and friendly, she didn't trust that either.

"I want to see him," she said.

"And I want to see the book."

She held it up. And while she couldn't see the old man's eyes properly, she could tell his attention had locked onto the book. She even felt the force of his gaze and had to fight to stop her hand from shaking slightly.

She lowered the book.

"I told you I'd burn it if you hurt him," she said.

"You will damn your soul if you do."

"I don't care—it's just a book. And I want to see Chris. Right now."

Her words echoed around the entrance hall. There were a few seconds of silence then as the old man gathered himself together. Any trace of friendliness had disappeared following her threat, and he had become what he was. A businessman, laying out the terms of the deal.

"You are younger and faster than me," he said. "I'm sure you could reach your car before I reach you. But I want you to understand this. If you leave here with that book, your brother will die. And he will never be found. You won't even be able to bury what's left of his body."

She said nothing.

"And this place." The old man gestured around. "It has no connection to me. I will never be found. And even if I were, I would never be held to account. So you have to bear in mind which of us here has the most to lose."

Again, she said nothing.

"All that pain and suffering," he said. "For just a book."

And with that, it was clear the negotiation was over. The silence stretched out. While she didn't trust him, Katie also understood that everything he had just told her was true. She could still take her chances and run—dart back over that cordon and escape from here—but she would be leaving her brother to his fate.

She racked her brain for options she didn't have.

And then she walked slowly toward the old man.

He extended his hand, but she wasn't prepared to get that close to him. Instead, a little way across the entrance hall, she leaned down and placed the book on the floor—then kicked it across to him. It spiraled across the tiles before coming to a stop at his feet.

The man stared at her.

"It's just a book," she said.

He crouched down. And then, carefully and reverentially, he picked it up. If her own skin had tingled at the touch of it, it seemed like an actual jolt went through the old man; it was as though he had just made contact with a live wire. He squatted there for a few seconds with his head bowed, his fingers the only part of him moving. They were stroking the cover, as though attempting to read Braille through the polyethylene.

And then he stood up.

"I'm sorry," he said absently.

"What?"

"Like I told you, I'm a man of my word."

And then he turned and walked back to the staircase.

Katie hesitated, unsure if she was intended to follow. But then a sudden sinking feeling in her chest told her she was not—and she heard movement behind her. She turned around and saw a man had emerged silently from one of the dark rooms off to the side and was now standing between her and the open door.

She heard footsteps tapping away up the stairs.

The man she had been left with down here was tall and wide, dressed in a black suit, his face hard and implacable.

Someone who enjoyed doing really bad things to people.

She took a step back.

"Help," she said.

The man took a step toward her. She realized her voice had been too small and quiet. That faced with this man, she might even have whispered the word.

And so, for what it was worth, she repeated it more loudly.

"Help!"

And this time, it was loud enough.

Okay. You know what you have to do.

James Alderson had spent the car journey hunkered down out of sight in the back seat of her car. He came sprinting through the door now, much faster than she'd have given him credit for, and leaped onto the man's back. They both tumbled over and began wrestling on the tiles.

She started over to help, but as the two of them rolled over and started exchanging blows, Alderson shook his head at her, his teeth gritted with effort.

"Go," he managed.

With her heart pounding, Katie turned and ran for the stairs.