All Fall Down (24 page)

At that moment, the door to the lab opened and Kate looked up with desperate hope, thinking that it might be McCarthy, or Agent Thompson, come to save them. But it was Annie.

‘Careful!’ Kate yelled. ‘Go get help.’

Annie ignored her. Smiling like a soldier reunited with comrades, she walked calmly across the lab floor and, to Kate’s astonishment, knelt on the floor before Angelica, smiling up at her. She wore the kind of expression a devout Catholic might wear before the Pope.

‘I hope I have pleased you this time,’ Annie said. ‘It is such an honour to serve you. To be in the presence of your radiance again.’

Angelica inclined her head. ‘Thank you for your telephone communications. Most helpful.’

Kate put her hands on her hips. ‘I thought you said there were no phones here, apart from the one in Kolosine’s office?’

‘I lied. Adoncia had one in her room.’ Annie looked irritated.

Kate almost laughed, it was so ludicrous. But Junko was sobbing beside her, and Simone’s gun was still trained on them, though she was distracted by Annie. Angelica was gazing down at the lab technician; in a manner befitting a
pope she stretched out her hand and Annie kissed it. The other two women were staring at Annie too; the brunette,
Cindy, smiling as if the scene were charming.

While the women were temporarily distracted, Kate
looked around for a weapon. Could she grab the virus, threaten
them with it? No, that would endanger Junko. Contracting
the virus would simply be a much slower way of dying
than
catching a bullet. There were pipettes in racks, but though their tips were sharp, their plastic shafts were too soft. There would be bottles of sulphuric acid in the cupboard across the room, but there was no way she could get there,
unlock the cupboard, locate the acid and open the bottle
in time.

Then her eye fell upon something behind Angelica. If she was fast enough … These bitches had unleashed Watoto upon the world. They had killed Isaac. They deserved everything they got.

Like a sprinter coming out of the blocks, fuelled by anger and determination, she dashed past Angelica, knocking her off balance with her shoulder, reaching the Dewar tank of liquid nitrogen within seconds. She grabbed the handle, flipped open the lid and snatched up a polystyrene container, a piece of packaging that had once contained test tubes. White smoke billowed from the tank. The liquid nitrogen was kept at minus 350 degrees Fahrenheit; it looked like boiling water beneath a cloud of steam, but was far more dangerous.

Two of the women dashed across the room towards her: Cindy and Simone, raising their guns. Cindy was slower, pulling to a halt and grabbing her ribs, holding her gun with one hand.

‘Don’t kill her,’ shouted Angelica, and they both paused for a second, long enough for Kate to dip the container into the tank and scoop up a generous measure. Angelica had ordered them not to kill her: feeling emboldened, she brandished the container.

‘Get back,’ she ordered.

The two women hesitated. Simone looked towards Angelica, as if awaiting an order, but Cindy made a lunge for Kate.

If the woman had been at full strength, she would have been able to snatch the container from Kate’s hand. But her injury slowed her down just enough for Kate to take a half-step back – and throw the liquid into Cindy’s face.

Cindy let out an agonised scream.

Kate turned to grab another scoop, but Simone was upon her. She shoved Kate to the ground, taking her legs out from under her with a swift kick, and jumped on to her back, twisting her arm and pushing her against the floor.

Cindy was still screaming. The liquid nitrogen had frozen her face, burning away the skin. Kate, with her cheekbone pressed against the ground, felt excruciating pain as her arm was wrenched almost out of its socket. She looked up, past Cindy, at Angelica, who was frozen to the spot, staring with horror at the shrieking brunette. Cindy dropped to her knees, hands in her hair, face ruined, eyes blind, lips and nose melting away, raw flesh peeling from her cheekbones. Kate couldn’t have done more damage if she’d doused the woman with petrol and set her alight.

At the same moment Cindy hit the floor, Junko broke into a run towards the exit. Simone immediately sprang up from where she held Kate against the floor and launched herself in pursuit.

Junko was inches from the door when Simone tackled her from behind at high speed. With a sickening crack, Junko’s head smashed into the metal door. She slumped to the ground and lay there unmoving, Simone panting on top of her.

Angelica, who had remained frozen as a statue, finally came to life.

‘Sister Simone, watch Dr Maddox,’ she commanded, and the black woman obeyed, jumping up from the prone Junko and training her pistol on Kate. Meanwhile Angelica sank to her knees before Cindy and pulled her into an embrace.

‘My face,’ Cindy said, her voice distorted as if her mouth were full of thick liquid. It sounded like, ‘Gy ’ace’. As well as burning off her lips – those pouting, bee-stung lips – some of the chemical had entered her mouth and blistered her tongue.

She fell to the ground, kicking her legs in agony, and Angelica squatted beside her, stroking her arm. Cindy was trying to say something to Angelica, who leaned closer to that ruined mouth. Kate couldn’t hear what the burned woman said, but the blonde shook her head.

Cindy made a noise that sounded like
please
.

Angelica nodded. Then, looking over at Kate, she raised her gun and pointed it at Kate’s face.

Rosie pulled into the drive and killed the engine. Later, she would remember seeing the monstrous SUV that lurked in the shadows on the other side of the road, but at the time she didn’t pay it any attention. It was late, she was tired – and in her mind she kept replaying her parting with Paul, and the way she’d made a fool of herself asking him to come back and stay, like some desperate old woman. Of course he wasn’t going to sleep with her. He had a girlfriend, a family. He was a good man. She laughed. Yup, that was the problem. Maybe she should go back to wanting bad guys.

‘Mom, what are you doing?’ Lucy asked.

‘Huh?’

‘We’ve been sat here for, like, ever. I need to get to bed.’

‘Have we? I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m – not feeling too good.’

It was true, she had a splitting headache, and a sore throat.

She felt Lucy scrutinising her. ‘Oh my God,’ she said, panic in her voice. ‘Tell me you’re not getting the flu, Mom, please!’

Rosie forced a laugh. ‘Of course I’m not! I always have a sore throat after my shift. Anyhow, the flu’s nowhere near here.’

‘Then what is it? Oh, wait – I know. It’s Daniel Craig. You’ve totally got the hots for him.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The last word cracked in her throat and she gulped. ‘And his name isn’t Daniel Craig.’

Lucy surprised her by taking hold of her hand. ‘Aw, Mom, I’m sorry. Maybe he’ll come back after doing whatever it is he needs to do.’

‘He won’t.’

Lucy unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over, giving Rosie a hug that she accepted with gratitude, clenching her teeth hard to stop the tears from coming.

‘Daniel Craig’s too old anyway. You need someone young, like Justin Bieber.’

Rosie pulled a face. ‘Bieber’s a baby. Maybe Zac Efron?’

‘Mmmm … Maybe we could share him.’

Rosie shook her head. ‘Lucy!’ But her daughter had momentarily soothed the ache.

They got out of the car and went into the house, Lucy switching on the light and heading straight for the kitchen, calling back, ‘Mom, you wanna glass of—’ while Rosie checked through the mail.

She didn’t finish the sentence.

Rosie looked up from the overdue bill she’d been ripping open.

‘Lucy? You OK?’

There was no reply. Rosie dropped the bill and walked into the kitchen.

‘Scream or run, and I’ll slit her like a pig.’

There was a chunky short-haired woman crouched on the kitchen floor. Lucy was on her back in front of her, the woman holding her down by her hair. She had a knife pressed against her slender throat.

‘OK, good, I got your attention. Pull that stool over here and sit down. That’s it. I already took the liberty of removing all the knives, so don’t even think about it.’

The woman spoke in a matter-of-fact, almost bored tone, but beneath the surface Rosie could sense rage and darkness of a kind she hadn’t encountered since she’d finally left Lucy’s dad. And even his rage – the madness that had finally compelled him to walk into a bar and start a fight he could never win – had been like a forty-watt bulb compared to the burning sun of this woman’s anger.

On the floor, Lucy was sobbing, looking up at Rosie with terrified eyes.

‘If you hurt my little girl …’

‘Yeah, yeah. And she isn’t so little. Nice and big, actually.’ The woman stretched out the hand that wasn’t holding the knife and, to Rosie’s shock, squeezed one of Lucy’s breasts. Lucy squealed and the woman pinched her nipple hard, making her cry out.

‘Shut up.’ She lifted the knife so Lucy could see it. ‘I’ve got a headache. Keep being a noisy bitch and I’ll slice those lovely perky nipples of yours right off.’

‘Who are you?’ Rosie asked, her own head pounding. Her mind was racing, visiting every corner of the kitchen, trying to identify weapons, ways out. Her cell was in her back pocket. If she could get to the emergency call button …

‘Sister Heather.’

‘Sister? What are you – some kind of nun?’

Heather roared with laughter. ‘That’s a good one.’ Her face darkened. ‘But nuns worship a man, don’t they? You’d never catch me praying to
no
man. Stop struggling, bitch.’

She roughly jerked Lucy’s hair, banging the back of her head on the floor. Instinctively, Rosie moved forward to help her daughter but Heather raised the knife. It looked like a hunting knife, the kind that could slice through flesh like it was butter.

‘Sit down,’ she ordered. ‘Now, I want you to tell me where the doctor’s boyfriend is.’

‘What doctor? Who?’

‘Dr Kate Maddox. His name is Wilson. Paul Wilson. A little birdy has told us he’s sticking his nose into affairs that really don’t concern him. Where is he?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Heather sighed and, using the knife, slit open the front of Lucy’s T-shirt, revealing her bra and midriff. Her belly bar glinted beneath the kitchen striplight. Heather pressed the point of the knife against the soft white flesh of Lucy’s stomach, while Lucy cried and shook.

‘Stop lying to me. The old man told me …’

‘What old man?’

‘Um … Watton. Jon Watton. Yeah, he told me, right before he told me where you lived and just before I put the old fucker out of his misery –’ she mimed a hacking cough, grinning broadly – ‘that the doctor’s boyfriend had been to see him with you earlier, then went back on his own. But where is he now, huh?’

Oh God – poor Jon, thought Rosie. ‘I don’t know.’

Heather sighed again. ‘Do you really want to see your daughter’s guts all over your lovely clean kitchen floor? It’ll take ages to clean up. And getting the smell out … Not fun.’

Rosie was shaking so much she could barely breathe. If she told this crazy woman where Paul was, no doubt she would go after him, try to kill him. But she knew the woman would probably kill her and Lucy first. Her knowledge of Paul’s whereabouts was her only leverage. Give that up, and she might as well stick the knife in Lucy’s belly herself.

‘Come on, I’m getting bored.’

‘Listen, I don’t care what you want with that bastard. The truth is, I don’t know where he’s gone. We had a fight and he took off. Told me he was heading out of town and never coming back.’

From her position on the floor, Lucy looked at Rosie as if to ask her what she was playing at. Luckily, Heather was too busy staring at Rosie to notice.

‘What was the fight about?’

‘He wanted to sleep with me. I said no.’

Heather smiled. ‘Men, huh? Probably wanted to fuck your daughter too.’

‘That’s what I thought. That he was using me because he wanted to get close to Lucy.’

‘Mom …’ Lucy spoke up for the first time.

‘Sweetheart, shush.’

‘Yeah, listen to your mother.’

Heather ruminated for a minute. Then she took a cell phone from her pocket. ‘I want you call him and talk to him. Tell him you changed your mind, that you want him to come back here, that your pussy is aching for him … Whatever it takes.’

She held out the phone.

Reluctantly, Rosie took it. She had no idea what to do next.

Kate pressed her hands against her face as if they would form a shield against a bullet. But the shot never came. She lowered her fingers.

Angelica had turned her gaze, and the gun, towards Cindy, who knelt on the floor, screaming with pain.

As Kate looked on, Angelica closed her eyes and her lips began to move. It looked like she was praying. Finally, she nodded.

‘The Goddess is waiting for you, Sister Cindy,’ she said, her voice choked. ‘Know that you will be restored in glory, very soon.’ She leaned over and kissed her on the head.

Then with one swift move she stuck the barrel of her pistol beneath Cindy’s chin and pulled the trigger. Fragments of brain and skull scattered across the lab floor. Angelica got to her feet and stared straight at Kate.

‘You bitch,’ Simone snarled to Kate. ‘You did that. Dadi, let me kill her.’

Kate’s heart was hammering in her chest. She looked over at the tank of liquid nitrogen but Annie was blocking the way. Over by the door, Junko was either dead or unconscious, blood flowing like lava from her scalp and pooling on the floor.

‘We need another two Sisters,’ Angelica said. ‘The Goddess said seven, and without Cindy we are down to five.’

Throughout the entire episode, which felt to Kate as if it had lasted hours but had only been a few minutes, Annie had stood passively watching from the sidelines. Now she stepped forward, her eyes shining.

‘Take me. I will be your Sister. I know I wasn’t ready before, but I am now – my life is yours – I beg you – take me!’