closed his eyes for a second, and then picked up Monty and returned him to the cat box. “I know you do,” he said, as he closed the lid. “And I know exactly where to get it.”
He went upstairs to his office and sat at his desk. He stared at the screen saver on his computer – a black and white photo of Nigel Benn and Chris Eubank squaring up in the ring. He’d sparred with Benn before the man was famous. Erik had once knocked him flat out in the first round. It was a good memory, one that helped get him through some tough times when he began to doubt his own strength. Times like now, like this.
He picked up the phone and dialled a number, waited for the call to be answered. It didn’t take long. Whatever he’d felt inside his head was fainter now, but it was still there, waiting.
“Erik.”
“I need to see you, Hacky.” He stared at the picture of the two proud fighters in the ring, doing exactly what was required to get the job done. No messing around. “Come out to the old country house tonight, at eight o’clock. You know the place. Don’t tell any fucker where you’re going or who you’re seeing. If you do, and I find out, you won’t get paid. You will get hurt, though.”
“Paid?”
“Yeah. I have an important job for you. We’re talking big money, son. More than you’ve ever seen before.” He raised his eyes to the wall, examined the framed painting of a young Cassius Clay. “Consider this a test. If you do well, I’ll push you up the ranks, and give you a proper role in my organisation.”
“You can trust me, Erik. Always.”
“I know I can, marra. That’s why I called you, and not one of the others.” He knew from experience that Hacky would keep his mouth shut. The kid was too afraid to disobey a direct order, and he liked money too much to even risk the chance of losing out. These scumbag estate kids were all the same: they’d do anything for cash, sell their own mother to climb up the criminal ladder and catch a glimpse of the big bucks.
“Meet me at the Barn. I’ll be waiting inside for you.”
“Is it... is it about the monster? That thing we found?”
“Sort of, marra. I’ll tell you what you need to know tonight. Until then, lay low and don’t speak to anyone. Make excuses; tell your mates you’re ill and won’t be seeing them for a few days. Give your girlfriend the elbow. Whatever. Just make yourself available to me, and only me. We have a job to do.”
“Okay. That’s easy. Am I going away, then?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes you are. Just for a little while. I’ll see you at eight, marra.” An idea occurred to him. “Bring a bag packed for a few nights. You won’t need much where you’re going; just the basic essentials.” It wasn’t a great plan, but it might fool people into thinking Hacky had gone on a journey.
He hung up the phone, feeling nothing. Nothing at all.
Back downstairs. Monty was sleeping inside the cat box. His eyes were closed, his chest rose and fell, rose and fell. Erik felt the same stirring inside his skull. Monty was doing something to him – or rather, the proximity to Monty was making something happen. It was like being in the presence of an electrical current. His skin tingled. His mind flexed, like a muscle that hadn’t been used for a long time.
Calmly, he sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and watched Monty sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHEN VINCE ROSE unlocked and then opened the old, unpainted door to the first attic room, Marc expected to hear at least the whine of a rusty hinge, or the sound of boards shifting underfoot. But there was nothing; the door opened smoothly and without a sound.
“So you’ve never been up here before, I take it?” Rose spoke without turning around. He reached out and flicked a light switch. The room brightened. Marc wouldn’t call it light, not exactly: that would be too kind a description for the weak, watery illumination. The room beyond the threshold simply became less dark.
“No,” he said, following the old man inside. “To be honest, I didn’t even know these rooms existed.”
“Behold,” said Rose. “My brother’s library...”
The room was small but it seemed much more spacious because there was little furniture inside. Just a small tub chair pushed