The Spook and the Spirit in the Stone Page 6

  I open my eyes and nothing happens. The blackness won't go away. Sophie’s awake too, her nails biting into my arm.

  "It's okay." It isn't really, but I have to say it. "The lamp must have gone out."

  "It happened before."

  "What did you do?"

  "Closed my eyes and pretended that the light was still there." She's just a voice in the darkness, a warm weight on my chest. "Seemed like hours and hours until Hux came back and lit it again. He said that next time it would stay night forever."

  "What a darling he is!" I cup her cheek in my hand, stroking the tension out of her jawline with my thumb. "What else did he do to you, Sophie?"

  "Hit me. Cut me with a little sharp knife." I feel her teeth grinding under my fingers. "Other things too, bad things."

  She needs an expert to talk her through this, a clinical psychologist trained in the treatment of abuse, but right now, all she has is me. "Tell me about it, but only if you want to. If you don't, I'll understand."

  "He didn't really do anything. He said some nasty things and he touched me, not in the way that you do, 'cos that's okay. This was different, kind of creepy...”

  "Where did he touch you?"

  "All over, like I was a small furry animal... No, less than that, 'cos he didn't touch me like I was alive. He stroked me like a piece of velvet or a stuffed toy. His hands were all cold and sweaty, and I didn't like the way they felt." The memory wakes her fear – I hear it in her uneven breathing. "There was something weird in his eyes, like he was mad or drunk or something. The worst thing was when he caught my blood in a funny cup to feed his nasty pet."

  "Pet?" Images of vampire bats and blood-sucking snakes pass through my mind.

  "Hux told me that the miners woke something nasty when they worked here, an old, bad thing. It still lives in these shafts. He calls it the Spirit in the Stone, feeds it and cares for it like a house-cat," she shudders. "It's why he does what he does, why me, why the others. It told him to."

  Tales told to frighten a child, a monster conjured up out of folklore. Such things may be true of their own accord, or belief may make them so. "The Spirit in the Stone?"

  "Don't you believe me?" Sophie asks. "Only Hux sees it, but I've heard it, snuffling around in the dark."

  "What kind of animal is it? A wolf? A bear?"

  "A little of both, with some big-cat thrown in. It's kind of like a watchdog around here. Hux says that even if I could climb out of this pit, it would keep me from leaving the mine." She's shivering again. "I think it's what stops the agent-pair from finding me here, that and the thickness of rock."

  "What exactly is an agent-pair?"

  "I can't tell you. It's a secret. Mom doesn't know that I know." I feel her shrug. "There aren't many of them, they work for Earth Intelligence and they can read minds, fly and do all kinds of neat stuff, or so I've heard. I never met one."

  "I have, and she's the scariest thing on two legs!"

  "Scarier than Hux?”

  "You bet! She'd roll him out on the griddle and fry him up for breakfast!"

  Sophie laughs, a flash of brilliance in our shared darkness. "You are just so obsessed with breakfast, Jerome!"

  "You spin me a story of a ghostly, invisible guard dog and you say that I'm obsessed?"

  "Do you think I'm making it up?"

  "Of course not," I tickle her and win another laugh.

  "And you're just keeping me talking to stop me worrying about the dark?"

  "That's right. You're a smart kid, aren't you?"

  Wrong tack – her misery comes flooding back. "No, I'm not. I'm a kid who's scared and hungry most of the time. If I was so smart, I wouldn't have got myself kidnapped, would I?”

  "Sophie, it wasn't your fault –"

  "It was. Mason told me never to open that window, and I did, and Hux grabbed me, and I deserved it!"

  "And if you hadn't rolled down the window, they'd probably have broken it or blown the door, which might have injured your driver and bodyguard, maybe even killed them. You probably saved their lives."

  "You really think so?"

  "I think that Hux wanted you bad enough to kill to get you. What I don't understand is why."

  "Hux said that my Mom was a symbol of the imperialist scourge and that he'd taken me to punish her. He said he'd asked her for money, and for some prisoners to be released."

  Logical reasons for staging an abduction, yet my instincts are insisting that the crime and the criminals don't match. "Who you are makes you a target, Sophie, but you don't have to be a victim. It's your fear that gives people like Hux power over you, but if you stop being afraid of him you can take that power away."

  "And you're not afraid now, trapped down here in the dark?"

  "Truthfully, I am, frightened for both of us." If confession is so good for the soul, how come it feels so bad? "It's a nice ideal to aim for, all that bravery and fearlessness in the face of danger, but it isn't an ideal world."

  "Sure isn't!" She stretches out and wriggles into a more agreeable position on my lap. "I'm okay now. Can we go back to sleep?"

  "If that's what you want."

  "It'll do for now." She's quiet for a while. "Thanks, Jerome."

  "Don't mention it. It's the least I could do for the President's niece!"

  When I surface again the lamplight is back. I've no idea what hour of the day it is; my time-sense is shot. Sophie's still asleep in my arms, pale and angelic. They say you know if someone is staring at you and I'm getting that sensation now. I look up and see Hux kneeling on the edge of the shaft, grinning down at me.

  "I see you like little girls too!" His grin stretches out into a leer. Sophie wakes at the sound of his voice. I feel her slight intake of breath and see her eyelids flutter, but she keeps them closed, feigning sleep. I say nothing.

  "Strong and silent type, eh?" His odd-coloured eyes glitter. "Nothing compares with a pre-pubescent female, that's what I think. So fragile and tiny, with petal-soft skin and those soft, melting eyes. Nice and tight too, if you get my meaning, and they do squeal so prettily! It's a pity about that accident of yours. That would be a tableau I wouldn't mind seeing, with your dark skin against her pallor, and the sheer size of you looming over her helpless little body...”

  He's goading me, pressing buttons at random. I know that, but it still makes me angry. "If you think I'd go along with your sordid little fantasy –"

  "You would, with a gun to your head."

  "I'd rather die than hurt Sophie!"

  "It's easy to talk brave. Anyone can do that," there's a cold, hard edge to his voice. "It's a different matter when the pain's real and death is a handful of seconds away. I don't care how big and brawny you are, with the right mix of threat and coercion I could make you do anything."

  "Don't argue with him!" Sophie's whisper doesn't carry far and I can scarcely hear it. "It doesn't help. It only makes him angry."

  She's right, of course. I'm familiar with the techniques a hostage should use to establish a rapport with his captor – I've been on the course – yet I doubt if they'd work on this man. I'm not even sure I want him to be my friend.

  "Don't have much of a sense of humour, do you?" Hux says, grinning again. "Did you have it amputated along with your shredded tackle or do you suppress it to fit in with your happiness-challenged colleagues down at the station? It was a joke – you know, punch line, laughter, ha-ha? I wouldn't harm the little girl. What pervert would?"

  "Why did you kidnap Sophie?"

  "It was a test." He shifts from his knees and sits cross-legged. "A test of control. I can make perfectly ordinary people do the most extraordinary things. I think you've seen the proof of that."

  "I've seen a florist turned into a sharp-shooter," I admit. "Neat trick. How do you follow that?"

  "Do you think me stupid enough to tell you my plans?" He picks up a handful of dust and scatters it down into my eyes, so I have to shake my head and stop looking at him. "What do you do for the police, Mister Te
chnical Support?"

  "I'm a tek-wiz. I talk to computers and tame all those nasty electronic demons that everyone else can't handle."

  He's too far away for me to read the nuances of his expression and I try to guess his mood from the tone of his voice. "Is that how you found this cavern, with ultrasound, or a heat-seeker, or some other weird and arcane scientific gizmo?”

  "Sorry, no. Blind luck, I'm afraid."

  "So why weren't you carrying a tracking device?"

  "Maybe I had an off-day?"

  Hux drums his fingers on one knee. "Speaking, as we were, of that mutual friend of ours, she contacted me last night. By heck, you certainly put the wind up poor Polly! Terrified she was, good and proper. She was kept at the station for four hours, locked in a cell and interrogated until she quaked in her shoes. What a way to treat a law-abiding woman! Why did the police let her go?"

  "Maybe they thought she'd lead them to Sophie. That's what they want, my colleagues, Sophie returned, safe and well."

  "And you too, no doubt. Both of you could be free by nightfall, you know, if the authorities meet the conditions of my ransom." Hux stands up, dusting down his pants. "I'm going to contact them later. I'll keep you posted."

  A crumb of hope cast down to the starving, false hope bestowed by a master torturer. I wonder what made him so cruel. Whatever it was, we can expect no mercy from him. He has no intention of letting us go – to him, we're already dead.

  "He's lying, isn't he?" Sophie whispers, as Hux moves back from the edge of the shaft.

  "Yes, I think he is."

  She frowns at me, her little face serious and intent. "He's a strange man. Complicated."

  I can think of other words. Driven. Possessed. Trapped, much as we are, his soul in thrall to whatever malevolent entity dwells in these caverns.

  It feels like morning to me, regardless of the real time. I seem to have weathered my concussion pretty well. All I'm left with is a minor-league headache. I stretch the cramps out of my limbs, wincing as my crop of bruises sing a chorus of complaint, then take a little exercise, walking around the edges of the platform. My bulk makes it shake and Sophie clings to the side of the shaft, scowling at me until I stop. Both of us have to use the bucket and I let her go first, covering my eyes until she's done. I'm careful to keep turned away from Hux when I piss, so he won't know how I've lied to him. Sophie watches me with unflustered curiosity, saying nothing. We drink some water and wash the blood from our faces with a little more. With nothing else to do, we sit down on the far side of our prison.

  "You're a little different to the rest of us, aren't you, Jerome?" She sits close, leaning against me. "Are you human?"

  "Near enough. Did you know that Earth has a set of regulations about who is and isn't, sort of like the rules you have to live up to when you're joining a club? I just about scrape in."

  "You don't like to talk about this, do you?"

  "I'm not comfortable digging up the past."

  She nods and tries an easier question. "Are you married?"

  "No.”

  "Got a girlfriend?"

  “No.”

  "Please don't get mad at me!" Her eyes are suddenly too shiny, filling up with tears. “I was just...”

  "Making conversation? Sorry, Sophie, I'm not good at sharing my private life. Let's find another subject, huh?"

  "What did they mine here?"

  "Gold, mostly, until the seams were tapped out, and some gemstones. They have a few in the City's museum; pink diamonds, green sapphires and some strange blue-purple crystals that glow in the dark. I think they call them heliotropes."

  "Wish we'd had some of them last night."

  Martia arrives then and breakfast is lowered down to us in a basket, hot rolls, chocolate and fresh orange juice, plus another bottle of water. After the famine, this seems too much of a feast, and far too much like a last meal. I let Sophie eat most of it. Her need is greater and, besides, I don't have much of an appetite.

  Time passes slowly in captivity. Sophie's adapted to it; after eating, she dozes. I try to listen to the conversation above us, but Martia's prattling is only about the weather, the traffic and the lack of reports about the kidnapping in any of the news media. Hux says nothing of value. After a while, they leave. I imagine they both have better things to do.

  Half an eternity later, I hear someone come back. For one glorious second I imagine it's a rescue, but it's only Hux.

  "They've agreed to pay up." He kneels at the edge of the shaft, smiling down at us. "The time and place are fixed. We collect in an hour."

  "When will you let us go?" Sophie asks.

  "Won't be me, little one. I'll send one of the girls to let the ladder down before it gets dark."

  He's lying again. We both hear it in his voice. No-one will come and no-one will ever find us. We'll die here, in darkness when the lamp burns out, die of thirst and starvation. That prospect seems to amuse our captor. He's in high spirits.

  "About this ransom," Hux calls down. "Will they hand over the cash or is it just a trap?"

  "Yesterday the plan was to deliver the money according to your instructions," I shrug. "I can't predict their actions today. My disappearance may cause them to change their minds."

  "And the named prisoners? Will they be released?"

  "It might prove difficult to get Earth to agree to that."

  "What you mean is that the Mother-world dug in her heels and refused point-blank to even consider it!" he laughs. "It's of no consequence. I don't care what happens to the poor bastards. I just picked three names at random to put on the note. I chose three Cluster terrorists to misdirect the blame for this kidnapping."

  "Can't fault your strategy, but it might not work. My colleagues aren't that dumb." Except me – I think of Afton and how few clues I left her to find us. "This isn't the first time you've done this, is it?"

  "What, you want a confession?" His spiteful grin is back. "Well, why not? I'm not a virgin at this game. I have considerable experience."

  "Katie McGuire?"

  "Yes, dear little Katie." His face takes on an unpleasant wistful expression at the memory. "Not to mention Mandie, Susie and Lucie-ann... but I don't have time to chat, however sweet the subject. Too many last-minute things to do, you understand. Before I take my leave, I have a little gift for each of you."

  He throws them down disdainfully, a banana for Sophie and for me, a penknife. There’s no sign of any tampering with the banana and, in particular, no pinpricks, so it’s probably not poisoned and safe to eat. As for the knife, its blade is two inches long and as sharp as a scalpel.

  “You may find a use for that,” Hux says, his voice soft with menace. “When it gets dark, when you grow tired of the tears and the whining, use it in anger or, since you came here to play the hero, use it out of kindness. Either way, it should pose an interesting dilemma. Have fun!”

  With a final insolent wave, he's gone from the lip of our abyss. I snap the penknife shut and raise a finger to my lips to warn Sophie to be quiet. We hear the creak of dry hinges, as something heavy is opened, then closed. Hux laughs, a brittle sound, edged with cruel, sharp delight. I hear his footsteps retreat and die away. Just when I'm certain that we’re alone, a shrill ululating cry echoes through the mine.

  "What under heaven was that?" I whisper.

  "It's Hux," Sophie says, turning pale. "He's calling up his pet to guard the tunnels."

  "The Spirit in the Stone?" I twirl the tiny knife. “Can I kill it with this, do you think?"

  She shakes her head. "Need a sword, at the very least. What are we going to do, Jerome?"

  "Wait for a while, just to be sure that Hux isn't coming back, and then get out of this pit."

  Her dark eyes light up, tasting the idea of freedom. “How?”

  "Eat your banana and let me think," in fact I've given our escape a great deal of thought throughout the long hours of inactivity. Hux has abandoned us in the absolute belief that nobody can climb out of this shaft,
which is probably true. For a man who claims that ordinary people can do extraordinary things, he should know better. I'm not your average ordinary person to start with.

  I wait for what I guess to be half an hour, then move to the far side of the platform. "How deep is this pit, Sophie? Compared to my height, how far is it to the top?"

  She gauges it, frowning. "The space above your head is about twice and a half as tall as you, maybe three times."

  "Hux didn't take the ladder. We would have heard him move it. If I can get you up there, do you think you could drag it over here?"

  "I can sure try. How will you get me up?"

  "Ever see a weightlifter do a clean and jerk? I'll take a hold on your ankles, lift you up as far as I can and throw you the rest of the way. All you have to do is keep still and relax." I know I'll only get one chance at this, so she has to trust me. "Don't look so worried. I grew up on a high-gee planet, just like your friend Mason, so I have the muscle to do this."

  "Okay," Sophie says. "Where do I stand?"

  I place her carefully, facing the wall. "Ready?"

  She shakes herself like a rain-soaked dog. "Let's do it."

  I balance myself on the balls of my feet, take a breath and wait for the moment. There is an instant when stillness becomes action. There's no trick to it, anyone can do it. On Earth they call it wu wei, but I think that the Gemmdians have a better word for it – kz'zath. When it comes I lift Sophie by the ankles, shifting my grip so that my palms cradle the soles of her feet, boosting her up over my head to the limit of my reach and hurling her into the air. She almost flies, spreading her arms as if they're wings, giggling at the wonder of it. I step back, ready to catch her if I've misjudged the throw. She leans forwards, vanishing from my view. There's a soft, tumbling, scuffling sound, an "Ow!" and a muttered curse.

  "Sophie, are you all right?"

  She crawls to the edge of the pit and peers down at me. "Fell and grazed my knee, that's all. Give me a minute and I'll fetch the ladder."

  It's too heavy and awkward for her to lift, so she hauls it inch by inch across the uneven floor of the cavern. I listen to her struggling with it, panting at the effort, and I ache with frustration that I can't help her. She perseveres without complaint, until several rungs overhang the shaft.