A Number of Wrong Turns

Chapter 5

Claire had actually locked the door behind her when she'd entered, but that meant nothing now I had her key; beyond the door, the corridor was quiet and still, thankfully, as the only cover was a stool. Pausing with one foot on the threshold, I strained to hear any sign of movement, but there was nothing, not even the creak of timbers settling.

That puzzled me until I glanced at the clock on the wall and realised it was 2am! No wonder no one had heard our scuffle; they were all in bed.

Letting the pistol lead me, I headed back the way I'd been taken, pausing only to peer around junctions. Unfortunately, the Ranch was either a lot bigger than I remembered, or the trauma and tiredness were affecting me again, because I ended up walking down a lot of corridors without finding the entrance.

I did find the breakfast bar though, which was good as I hadn't eaten anything in about 10 hours.

Taking some apples from a basket on the counter, I looked around as I chewed. There were more oil paintings adorning the walls and it suddenly struck me that like the one in the lobby, they too depicted wolves... but instead of noble hunters with grey fur and proud muzzles, the creatures looked more like lanky, almost emaciated, coyotes prowling darkened forests with lowered heads and feral eyes.

As I wondered whether the Ranch's clients ever realised the insult, I swept the room with the pistol, just in case I'd missed one of the workers enjoying a midnight snack.

I was halfway through my second sweep when the half eaten apple dropped from my suddenly nerveless fingers.

The most beautiful sight in the world was before me.

A phone.

A perfectly ordinary, utterly mundane phone, mounted on the wall

It was a blocky beige relic of the 1980's, cracked and faded, but in that moment I thought it was worthy of the Louvre.

Nearly tripping over my own feet to reach it, I almost didn't dare lift the receiver for fear this was another of the universe's cruel tricks. Yet as I held it to my ear, I could hear a faint dial tone over the thunder of my heart.

It was actually working! I felt like yelling it out loud; I was safe!

Naturally, I didn't shout. In fact, I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious; certain that this was the moment Madame would burst in with her scantily clad entourage.

Clutching the receiver to my chest, I ducked behind the counter, taking some comfort from the solid oak at my back while I punched in Ayjer's number. Not one of the factory ghost numbers, her personal you'd-better-be-dying-if-you-ever-use-this, number; I didn't want any delays.

My heart actually lurched when the phone started to dial; in the tomblike kitchen, each ring sounded as loud as church bells and I nervously jabbed my pistol around the counter, sweat making my neck itch as my ears strained for the sound of footsteps.

My paranoia increased with each and every ring the phone made; had something happened to Ayjer? Maybe she had got my message but she'd been caught trying to reach me?

A thousand hellish scenarios ran through my head as I tried to guess what might have happened; the Andskoti had the satnav. If they'd had a team in the area, it was unlikely but... god, what if they'd simply nuked the town she was staying in?

That was the ultimate worst case scenario. Ayjer and the other Svarthvik were simply too strong to ambush; the only guaranteed way of killing them was a weapon of mass destruction. Even Rheda couldn't survive an antimatter explosion, especially if delivered via a missile launched from orbit.