Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,95

at him, tears welling in her eyes. In the dark room, the glare of the television was like a beacon. She examined his face, his smile, his hair, his clothes. Eventually, she tore her gaze from his face and glanced at the digital clock beside the television.

1:15 am.

She realised she felt tired.

I’ll watch it one more time. Then sleep.

She pushed Rewind again for just the right amount of time and the shot wound back. But as she went to press Play, she suddenly sensed movement to her right.

‘Mark?’

She lifted her head and looked over at the doorway.

She jolted back. It wasn’t Mark.

There was a tall man standing there.

Staring at her.

And he had a pistol in his hand aimed at her head.

FORTY FIVE

Shepherd’s sudden and unexplained departure meant Archer was left alone with the two doctors. As the echoes of the engine of Shepherd’s Ford disappeared into the night, Archer turned and walked back towards the medical pair, shaking his head.

‘What was that about?’ Kruger asked.

‘I’ve got no idea.’

He glanced at the time on his watch. 1:16 am. It had been one hell of a day and it sure as hell wasn’t over yet.

‘So many of us dead,’ Maddy said, looking up at the burning building. ‘All those people up there. Dad, Will and now Frankie.’

She shook her head.

‘What the hell was he doing here?’

‘They must have kidnapped him,’ Archer said.

‘But why?’

‘I don’t know. Did you get a look at the equipment upstairs?’

They both nodded.

‘Much of it was the same as ours,’ Kruger said. ‘Frankie was also a virologist. He worked with me.’

He paused.

‘What?’ Archer asked, seeing the look on his face.

‘There was something else up there too,’ Kruger said. ‘I saw it inside the lab just before the big detective was locked inside.’

‘What was it?’

‘There was a canister at the back of the room near the explosives. I’ve seen them before in South Africa. I recognised the design and the sticker on the side.’

‘So?’

‘They hold pesticides.’

‘Pesticides?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where would you get that from?’

‘I guess you’d order it.’

‘Or steal it,’ Maddy said.

Archer thought back to what Shepherd said. Wicks was behind the wheel of the van at the campsite. Not Rourke. Not Sway. Not Drexler.

So where the hell were they?

Archer pulled his cell, dialling Rach.

‘Hello?’

‘Rach, it’s Archer.’

‘I heard about Jorgensen. I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah. Me too.’ Pause. ‘But listen. I’m still here in New Jersey. We found the last doctor from Dr Flood’s lab here. The virus had killed him. I think Rourke and Sway kidnapped him and him working on something.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know. But Dr Kruger saw an empty can of pesticide. I need you to check something out.’

Five miles away, the CTB Ford Explorer roared down the street, Shepherd with his foot all the way down. He was holding the wheel with one hand and gripping his cell phone with the other.

‘Talk to me, buddy,’ he said, turning a hard right.

‘I heard someone outside,’ his son Mark whispered. ‘He’s in the house, Dad.’

‘Did you see him?’

‘He was tall, lanky. Weird haircut.’

Shepherd paled.

Finn Sway.

‘I heard Mum fighting with him. I think he must have knocked her out. It’s all gone quiet. Wait.’

Shepherd listened in helpless agony, pushing his foot down all the way, the car hurtling towards his neighbourhood.

‘I think he’s coming upstairs,’ Mark whispered, even quieter.

Shepherd listened.

Then the call went dead.

‘I just checked tonight’s reports,’ Rach told Archer. ‘Not much happening in the area. Most of the action is where you are.’

‘There must be something.’

‘Hang on.’ Pause. ‘Most of its minor charges; alcohol, fighting in the street. Someone got shot in Newark. No surprise there. That’s about it. The biggest is the shooting and a missing persons report.’

‘A missing person?’

‘Man called Doug Craig. Seventy two years old. Wife said he was out working on their farm, but disappeared some time earlier in the day. She’s looked everywhere but can’t find him. Jersey State PD are looking into it.’

‘Where was this?’

‘A farm twelve miles from you.’

‘A farm?’ Archer repeated.

‘Yes.’

Pesticide.

‘It might not be anything.’

‘But it could be something. Send me the address.’

He ended the call, then realised they had no car. He looked around for a vehicle. He couldn’t borrow the fire truck.

Then he saw all the employee cars parked in the lot. One of them was a Mercedes that caught his eye. He moved towards it, trying the handle. It was locked. He pulled his Sig, reversing the weapon and smashed the window. It took three goes, but it went and the alarm started blaring. Some of the fire-crew turned, but Archer raised his