Brian Lumley - Psychomech 03, page 30
Tired though he had been, still it had not been too hard to stay awake; indeed in other circumstances it might have proved difficult to get to sleep. There had been a lot of trouble in St Andreasberg last night, which had helped Conti stay alert. Police sirens blaring intermittently through all the dark hours; a fire at one time, roaring up brightly to bathe the southern quarter of the tiny town in its ruddy glow; mind-plaguers screaming and dancing in the streets by the hour, until the relevant authorities could arrive in heavily armoured black vans to drag them away. Oh, yes, things were really starting to get rough now.
And yet still it had seemed a long night, for Conti's patience was now beginning to run a little thin. Having found the woman who double-crossed him, he now desired to be even with her. Oh, he would get her eventually, he had promised himself - even if he must wait till hell froze over - but that had not been necessary. For sure enough, as the birds began to sing and the mist rolled down off the hills, Emma Tyler had put in an appearance.
And so Conti had followed her, keeping well back for the moment and letting her lead him wherever she would. His intention was simply to get her alone somewhere and beat everything she had learned out of her skinny hide before killing her. But as it happened, things were to work out far better than that, better than he could have dreamed.
He had almost missed it when she turned off the road into the pine-fronted saddle between the mountains, but then he had spotted her lights cutting through the trees back from the road; and so he had parked his van on the grass verge close to the slip road, lit himself another cigarette and settled down to watch and wait some more. It had dawned on him by then that perhaps she was closer to the fugitives than he might ever have suspected.
Then, as the light brightened he had seen Richard Stone drive away from the place alone in the big Mercedes; and shortly after that Emma Tyler's car lights had come on again, and she had taken her car creeping up through the misty pines towards the saddle's ridge. And at last Conti had spotted the fire smoke from the cabin, and the rest of the scenario had not been hard to figure out. Tyler was after the girl, for she knew that Stone would be coming back for her.
Conti was a big man and strong. Despite the fact that he had not yet fully recovered from the beating Phillip Stone had given him, still he was very fit. He decided to leave the van where it was and follow the Tyler woman on foot, jogging all the way up through the pines and along the saddle's rim to its crest. In all, the distance was only some three-quarters of a mile, but it was all uphill and over rough ground. Still, a good workout could do little harm, and anyway the van would be difficult in the trees.
He had reached the cabin in plenty of time, had listened to the shouting and Tyler's raving, and then had put an end to the madwoman without giving it a second thought. He owed her it. Besides, she had been about to ruin the girl - which would not have stood Conti in good stead with her father!
Now there was only young Stone to deal with, except . . . well, that might not be as easy as it sounded. Certainly it would help if the girl were to oblige and remain unconscious. It would never do to have her coming to at the wrong moment. . .
For long moments Conti stood undecided. Perhaps he should put a dart in the girl. That would be the safest thing - but it would also mark her. If possible, he would like to get her back to her old man completely undamaged. A knockout pill would do the job just as surely as a dart; but again, it could well prove dangerous to give her a mickey while she was unconscious.
He tossed the second blanket over her where she lay, went out on to the balcony and looked down. Way, way down there, trees where the sheer drop turned into a steep, scree-littered slope; and somewhere in those trees, the body of Emma Tyler. Miles away, villages and secondary roads all converging on the multibahn, and occasionally a lone chalet, lodge or guesthouse standing on a hill or at a crossroads. It was Nowhere Land. She wouldn't be found for a long, long time - might never be found at all. After all, in just a few days' time, who would there be to find her? And who would care anyway?
Conti grunted his satisfaction, spat over the rail into space . . . but in the next moment the frown was back on his face.
He was thinking now of what he had learned of the Jacksons' undignified and as yet unexplained joint demise. He had not liked what he heard about it - not at all. That had been a very nasty business, definitely. Not that Conti was against nastiness, on the contrary, but he liked to be on the end dealing it out and not the reverse.
Of course, Old Man Craig was himself crazy, but the more Conti had followed this thing up the more time he had had to think about it; and indeed this Richard Stone kid appeared to be different. As a gibberer he should now be dead; mind-plaguers didn't survive more than a year or eighteen months at best, their brains simply caved in. But not only had Stone ('Garrison') survived, he was actually staying ahead. Or at least had been doing so until now.
Antichrist? No, but . . . well, if he did not have the devil's blood in him, he certainly had his luck! But luck of the devil or not, whatever he had it had just run out on him. He would be coming back here for the girl, and he would find Donald Conti waiting. And then there would be another score for Conti to settle . . .
Conti left the cabin and jogged back to the ridge. In a small backpack he carried beer, sandwiches, his binoculars and all-important headset. Along his way he spotted Suzy's body, paused and had a closer look. The great black bitch must be with the fugitives, but that was no problem.-Darted, she would be out of it for at least a couple of hours.
It was not hard to find Tyler's car; it could only be hidden in the trees, and on his way up Conti had seen her tracks leading off from the deeper trail left by the Mercedes. Using her keys, he checked the dead woman's car over. Maps in the front, large- and small-scale - tough ropes in the back, and a couple of boxes of small calibre ammunition hidden under the seats - a spare can of petrol in the boot, along with tools and jumper-leads. Some of it might come in handy.
Conti found a place on the ridge where he could look down on the secluded nest of deserted buildings in their grounds and the main road where it cut across the mountain contours. Seating himself on a boulder, he removed his backpack, drank beer and ate sandwiches. The cold air gave him a good appetite. Then he took his binoculars and studied the road to the north-west where it curved round the mountain and disappeared towards the ten-laner, ultimately towards Berlin.
He thought about what was to come, fixing it in his mind:
When Stone returned, he was unlikely to notice Conti's camper since it stood oh the grass verge on the St Andreasberg side of the slip road. Even if he did see it, he would probably think it belonged to an advance party of skiers up here to map out routes for use when the snows came, and would not give it a second thought. On the other hand when he drove up here, he might just see the body of the dog.
That gave Conti an idea . . .
He went back to the dog, hoisted her limp body up on to his shoulder and walked back to the ridge. There he dumped her in the middle of the tracks, between the deep indentations of tyres, where Stone would be sure to spot her as he crested the rise. Then back to Emma Tyler's car for ropes, spare can of petrol. . . and jumper-leads.
Jumper-leads, yes. Conti ran his tongue over the raw craters in his mouth where his teeth had been, and gently over the jagged stumps of others which were broken. He remembered his pain when he had regained consciousness after Stone's father had worked him over. He couldn't take his revenge on the older man - not for the moment, anyway - but he sure as hell could take it out on the younger one!
And shit - he was to die anyway, wasn't he? Old Man Craig hadn't specified how he was to die ...
In Wernigeroder Richard had drawn a thousand Deutch Marks from the World Bank before going on his spending spree. His first purchase had been an overcoat for himself, mainly to cover up his general deshabille, and next a packet of throwaway razors. Then, in a public lavatory he had given himself a quick shave and combed his hair back into a reasonable semblance of its normal brush, before continuing with his list of purchases. The money had lasted just long enough, though maybe there were items he had missed, but he and Lynn could later pick up anything he might have forgotten.
Not only had the money flown but time too, so that it was almost 11:00 a.m. by the time he turned the car into the slip road and threaded it between the pines and on to the now familiar trail. Things were working out well and Richard was pleased with himself. He hummed some half-familiar tune, something from happier days, as the car climbed along the edge of the saddle towards the skyline. But then, cresting the ridge -
Suzy lay where Conti had tossed her. As Richard hurriedly applied his brakes and brought the car to a shuddering stalled halt, the dog lifted her head a fraction, then let it flop back down in the grass. Richard was out of the car in a moment, round to the front, kneeling beside the bitch where she lay sprawled and drugged, her limbs beginning to twitch as life gradually returned to them.
'Suzy!' Richard gasped his concern. 'What the hell - ?' Then he saw the dart in her side.
Simultaneous with the sudden knowledge that all was far from well here, there came Lynn's cry of warning, echoing down to him from the higher slopes to the right. 'Richard! . . . Richard! . . . Richard! Look out! . . . Look out! . . . Look out!'
Conti, cursing himself that he had not made sure the girl would stay down, came out from cover with the speed and ferocity of a pouncing panther. He had been only thirty feet away, crouched down in a hollow between a pair of sapling spruces, but now he plunged directly to the attack. Richard saw him, a single glimpse of that snarling, bruised and brutal visage, before Conti was on him.
The sheer force of his rush bowled Richard over, and as he made to scramble to his feet a roundly swinging blow smashed into his left temple and knocked him down again. Following which there was simply nothing he could do ...
Minutes later and Conti had tied him upright to the bole of a pine, was splashing petrol round his legs and feet in a small circle, gradually working back from him. Groggily Richard sagged in his bonds, shaking his head and trying to piece his shattered senses back together again. Then he heard Conti's voice bellowing up towards the higher slopes, and what the man yelled served to speed his recovery.
'Girl! Lynn Craig! Look, girl, I don't want to have to hurt your boyfriend if I can avoid it. If I did want to he'd be dead right now, but I'd prefer to take both of you back alive and let your father do his own dirty work. Do you hear me?'
No answer.
Richard finally lifted his head, gave a grunt as he strained uselessly against the ropes that bound him to the tree. Conti was standing with the empty petrol can dangling from a huge fist. He grinned as he tossed it away. 'Do you want to tell her she'd better come on down? Maybe she'll listen to you.'
'Balls!' said Richard, his head throbbing dully where Conti's fist had smashed into it.
Conti grinned again. 'You talk hard,' he growled, 'just like your old man, but you don't pack his punch. He's really dirty, your father, did you know that? It'll be a pleasure to come up against him again some time - but between times I've got you.'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Richard answered. 'Anyway, what do you want with us?' He felt like he was speaking round a mouthful of cotton wool.
'I'm going to take you back to England, that's all, like her father wants me to.'
'Why does Craig want me dead?' Richard asked.
His question caught Conti off guard. 'Hell, you need to ask that?' he started to answer. 'You call yourself Garrison, and you run off with - ' but there he paused and scowled. 'Richard knew now that he was right. Lynn's father did want him dead. And as soon as his paid thug had his hands on Lynn, his life would be utterly worthless.
'Lynn,' he croaked, then used his dry tongue to clean his mouth and tried again. 'Lynn!' he shouted, hoping his voice would carry. 'You stay wherever you are. He's going to kill me no matter what you do!'
Conti nodded, the grin slipping from his lumpy, damaged face. 'Well, that just about does it,' he said. He looked up into the high places, at the scree- and boulder-strewn slopes where the trees were scanty and spaced out as the mountain climbed to its peak. Was that the flash of a white thigh up there in the trees?
'Girl!' Conti yelled. 'I can't wait around all day. Come down and you have my word I won't hurt him. Stay up there and he's a goner for sure - and then I'll come up after you! What's it to be?' Another flash of white, maybe a little closer, lower. Was she coming down? Did she think she could somehow tackle him? Conti's grin was back on his face. That should be fun!
He turned back to the youth tied to the tree. Tun and games time,' he informed. 'You'll see what I mean. Hey, I'll just be a minute. While I'm busy, you just think about the petrol. Can you smell it? Pretty strong, eh? About a gallon and a half, I reckon, round you and that tree . . .'
He went to Tyler's car, drove it back, bumping it carelessly over the rough ground. He parked up close to the trees, stopped the motor, got out and lifted the bonnet. Then he brought out the jumper-leads from his backpack and clipped them to the battery's terminals. The leads were quite long; they just reached to Richard, a distance of maybe nine feet.
'Got the idea, son?' Conti drawled. He tore open Richard's trousers, ripping the inside legs away to expose his underpants. He let a clip close slowly on the cotton, trapping the loose skin of Richard's scrotum between its jaws, then the same on the other side. 'Do you know the kind of jolt it takes to start a car?' Conti grinned. 'You know what'll happen when I turn the key in the ignition?'
'You bastard!' Richard gritted his teeth. 'You slimy -'
'Yeah, yeah - all of that,' Conti nodded. 'Sorry, son, but I've no time for name-calling. Sticks and stones, as they say . . .' He turned his back, stared up into the slopes and cupped his hands to his mouth:
'Lynn Craig - if you don't come down your boyfriend's going to die right now! He's going to bum!'
Burn! . . . Richard shuddered. Yes, he would burn. The petrol fumes were heavy in his nostrils. Already the clips were painful where they held the loose folds of his scrotum. When Conti turned that key, Richard was bound to convulse. The clips were very close together . . . they would make contact . . . there were almost sure to be sparks.
Richard closed his eyes, bit his lip, shook his head. Thinking about it could do no good; this sadist was going to do it anyway.
'Lynn!' he yelled, trying to keep a sob of desperation, of fear, out of his voice. 'Stay away!'
Til say one thing for you, son,' Conti grunted. 'You've got guts!'
/ may have more than just guts, Richard thought. But if only he could be sure.
Something black moved in the trees close by: Suzy, staggering, shaking her head, falling and getting up again. She did not seem to know where she was going or what she was doing, her body still fighting the drug. But she was nevertheless determined to do something.
Conti could waste no more time. 'Your very last chance, girl,' he yelled, leaning into Tyler's car on that side away from Richard.
'Are you coming down?'
Nothing.
But there ... he saw her! Moving between jutting boulders, picking her way from one patch of cover to the next. He could catch her while the kid burned.
'Goodbye, son,' Conti softly called - and turned the key.
Richard's scream of agony gouted up to the heavens higher than the tongue of fire which immediately whooshed up and engulfed the tree. The heat licked at Conti where he backed off, laughing. Tyler's car's engine had fired first time, was ticking over right now and feeding electricity through the jumper-leads. Nothing was visible through the blaze and the wall of heat-haze, but Conti could well imagine his young victim's body blackening while the current convulsed his agonized flesh.
'No - no - noooo? Lynn came running down the slope, tumbling, bouncing, her blanket ripping from her where it caught on sharp rocks poking through the scree.
Conti simply stood, hands on hips, his back to the blaze, and let her come crashing towards him. Then, as the heat became fierce on his back, he moved forward to meet her. It was all over. The chase was done. The prize was his.
A dozen paces away she tripped, flew forward, hit the ground and scrambled to her knees. She looked beyond Conti through horrified, disbelieving eyes. Then - Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, she began to back away. Not from Conti, from something else. Already white, her face turned to chalk. There was fear in her eyes, but there was recognition, too.
Whatever it was she saw, it was not merely sickening and horrifying - it was awesome, terrifying! And she had seen it before. Slowly Conti turned, his flesh crawling. Thirty feet away, a great tree and the earth around it blazed - but at the heart of the fire a man-shaped blue glow pulsed like some alien heartbeat!
Conti knew that he witnessed something from outside normal human experience, that there was a power here he could never hope to understand. He, too, backed away, following the girl where she crept, putting distance between himself and the blazing tree with its fearsome burden. But as he went he watched, and what he saw he could not believe.
The blue glow reached out twin pseudopods that followed the cables of the jumper-leads to Tyler's car. The car glowed blue for a single moment, seemed to contract a little and shrink down into itself- and exploded!
Conti was picked up and hurled flat, knocked over like a skittle in the blast of hot air that rushed outward from the riven car. Lynn, further away, got to her feet and stumbled for safety. Cdnti, dazed and disoriented, picked himself up and uselessly dusted himself down, brushed leaves, twigs and dirt from his clothing. And again he looked back.
For a moment longer the pillar of fire blazed - and then was extinguished!
