The Hurst Chronicles (Book 1): Hurst (30 page)

“You’re joking? This piece of work? The scumbag,” said Scottie, all traces of empathy towards the wounded man gone.

“Take him to the dungeon will you? Get him out of here. We’ll deal with him later,” spat Nathan, gritting his teeth.

As Scottie and Tommy dragged the man with the bandaged head out of the room, Will stood in the doorway blocking their path. He grabbed the wounded man by the scruff of the neck and physically lifted him off his feet, smashing him back against the wall. “I told you we’d meet again. I’m going to enjoy wiping that grin off your face,” spat Will.

The man in black’s face was a picture of puzzlement, unfazed by Will’s anger, he stared back at him with cold lifeless eyes.

Nathan inserted himself between the two men, prising them apart.

“Whoa there, Will. Leave him alone. He’s all messed up, took a nasty bump on the head.”

“Do you even know who this guy is?” snarled Will, incredulous. “The two of us have some unfinished business. Isn’t that right?”

Will grabbed the man in black by the hair and hauled him in close. He hawked up some phlegm and spat in his face, tilting his head to watch the saliva dribble down a cheek before dumping him back down on the ground. “I’m going to make you regret what you did to me. What you did to all of us. Got it?” He slapped the man across the cheek and watched as Tommy and Nathan frogmarched the prisoner away to the dungeon, one on either side.

Chapter fifty-four

The 
USS Chester
 passed the Needles rocks and iconic red and white lighthouse on its northerly tip. The ship stayed within the main shipping channel, towering over the castle at Hurst and the corresponding fortifications on the island side, Fort Albert and Fort Victoria. The 
Chester’s
progress slowed momentarily as she entered the tidal race flowing westwards. On board the
Chester
the crew were barely aware of the change in sea state.

Peterson was taking no chances. The ship was at battle stations. As they came closer, the deck-mounted heavy machine guns were fully loaded and now trained on the battlements of Hurst. Spotters on the ship’s superstructure scanned the shoreline on both sides with high-powered binoculars, in constant communication with sniper teams posted on the upper decks.

On the bridge, Jack and Lieutenant Peterson were trying to establish contact with the Royal Navy at Portsmouth. They were still getting no response. Why weren’t they answering? The panel of lights and screens in the communication centre were showing green. Weather conditions were moderate. They should have easily been in range. Peterson ordered one last system check but once again the communications officer reported “Systems green, sir.”

Sergeant Jones from the Seal team reported in. They had commandeered a vehicle and headed out to inspect the blast site and were gathering forensic evidence and intelligence from the missile crater and vehicle. They had confirmed that Briggs was not one of the five bodies they had recovered. Nor for that matter was Terra. The Humvee was barely recognizable. A tangled wreck of twisted metal lay upside down on its roof. They had videoed everything, collecting what physical evidence they found in the two vehicles. They were heading back to Osborne to meet the onward leg of the helicopter once it was released from its duties at Hurst.

Sam waited on the lower deck as the crew lowered one of the 
Chester
’s fast R.I.Bs to take them back to Hurst. They were ready to launch as soon as they were through the race and into calmer sheltered waters. Sam was watching a crewmember prep the machine gun mounted at the front of the R.I.B, loading ammunition and checking the firing mechanism. He couldn’t wait to tell Tommy all about it. He would be so jealous. They had helped Jack over to sit on a large grey container loaded with medical kit and other equipment. He was still struggling and couldn’t stand for long, but had insisted on coming ashore to inspect the damage at Hurst.

When the bags and boxes were safely stowed and the rest of the team assembled, the command was given and a hydraulic winch whirred into life. It slowly lowered the R.I.B and its crew until it splashed down in the wash of the ship. The pilot started the outboard engines and steered away from the 
USS Chester’s
 towering hull, heading into the Keyhaven estuary, behind the spit. It was exhilarating for Sam being in a high speed launch. After the ocean-going Nipper, the RIB felt like a seagull, skimming the waves, barely feeling each wave as they sped towards their destination. They passed the end of the Hurst battery, dark grey rectangles where heavy artillery would have been mounted facing the Needles channel, the white lighthouse and out buildings that Jack called his home. Stretching ahead of them were the narrow-gauge railway tracks that led to the castle gate from the original docks where munitions and stores were unloaded.  Jack pointed out the Land Rover with its doors still wide open, as if it had been abandoned. Rounding the eastern tip of the spit, they headed into the small dock, avoiding a half-submerged yacht. Only its mast and foredeck were visible above the surface at high tide, seawater swilled over its guardrail, tangled with seaweed and grey foam. A large gull hopped across the rail as they approached, before rising gracefully on the breeze. The seagull glided a few metres away on to the crosstrees of another yacht, nodding at anchor.

Tommy came running down to meet them at the dock. He stopped as the machine gun swung round and came to bear on him. He raised his hands in alarm until with immense relief, the gunner got a tap on the shoulder and he lowered the barrel, adjusting his aim away from his chest.

The four marines who had escorted them, fanned out left and right taking up defensive positions on the dock scanning for anything suspicious. Tommy and Sam helped Jack off the R.I.B and led him through the castle, supporting his weight, one on each side. It was good to see his old friend again. They shared a smile and a joke, eager to share their stories, sure they had each had the more exciting of adventures.

Jack interrupted their excitement. He was impatient for every detail about the attack. He wanted to know everything about the fire and in particular the number of casualties. When Tommy mentioned that they had taken prisoners, even captured their leader, Jack straighten up, setting aside the pain and discomfort, emboldened by this unexpected consolation prize. He rolled the name Damian King around his mouth, as if trying it for size, searching his memory for any mention of this man. He was certain he wasn’t local. And yet, he was intrigued by the revelation that Will seemed to know the man from before. Where could he have met him?

Back within the protected confines of the austere stone of the Tudor castle, Jack seemed to relax a little, his pain killers kicking in. Arm in sling, he stopped to shake hands with several on their route. They descended the steep stairs that led to the cellar. It was damp and musty down here. The whole place still reeked of smoke with noticeable fire damage and scoring in several places along their route. In the very corner of the main block, in the bowels of the castle, they arrived at a small dry storeroom where they would have kept munitions and explosives in centuries past.

Outside was a guard who looked exhausted. He was leaning heavily against the wall, his head slumped in the half-light thrown from the low flame of a small lantern hanging on a hook by the door. He’d been up all night and stood yawning and leaning on his rifle, waiting to be relieved. He roused himself as they approached. There was a flicker of recognition as he noticed Jack and awkwardly raised his hand in a half-hearted welcome, before swiftly lowering it again, suddenly self-conscious. They waited for the youth to fumble in the pocket of his green Parka coat to find the key and unlock the heavy old wooden door, swinging open to reveal total darkness within, a small rectangle of light from the doorway at their feet.

Nathan powered up a small penlight and they stepped inside.

It was not immediately obvious that there was anything or anyone in the shadows. Then the torch beam located the soles of a pair of boots and followed the legs up to find a recumbent figure, his head bandaged, slumped in the corner, back to the brick wall. The room was inhospitable to say the least. It was freezing cold so close to the water line. A silver rivulet of seawater ran past the prisoner’s boot towards a drain in the floor. Cobwebs hung from the low ceiling and oak beams that forced the standing men to bend double as they advanced further into the cramped confines of the cell. Mould had found a home in every brick and every stone here. There was a musty smell on every breath.

Jack hobbled in, bracing himself against the doorway, staring towards the crumpled figure of a man, shielding his eyes with his hand. For a few seconds they all stood in silence as the others shuffled in behind, bringing a hurricane lantern to throw some more light on the pitiful conditions of the prisoner’s captivity. The room stank of sweat and urine from the blue plastic bucket in the corner serving as a makeshift toilet. The door slammed closed behind them and Jack sat down on the floor across from the man in black. The captive was studying him assiduously, his arms folded, staring back with no shortage of contempt. He seemed to have recovered his wits since their last encounter.

Chapter fifty-five

Nearly an hour later, the three men shuffled out, their shoulders slumped, their body language dejected. The youth relocked the door behind them and resumed his lethargy outside the cell. It was as if being in the same room, in the presence of this man, this monster, had drained all of them of every ounce of energy. Jack and Nathan walked a discrete distance away from both the cell and the guard before discussing what they had learned.

“How do we know he’s not lying? He could have invented this whole story?” suggested Nathan.

“No, I’d say he’s telling the truth alright,” nodded Jack. The question is why he’s telling this to us in the first place?” stroking his chin with his free hand. “Zed and Riley said they saw for themselves that they were experimenting on people at the hospital. It stands to reason that a small percentage of the population would have natural immunity to the virus. It’s also theoretically possible that, with sufficient time and resources, they could eventually find a way to synthesise that natural immunity and inoculate others. Now, let’s say, for the sake of argument that Adele
is
one of those lucky few. Why would he tell us that? What could he hope to gain by telling us the truth?”

Tommy shook his head, frustrated by Jack’s response. “You don’t know him like we know him. You weren’t here. Didn’t you hear what he did, Jack?” he leaned forward imploring Jack to listen. “You’re acting like that didn’t mean anything. He executed our people. Innocent, unarmed men and women. He ordered his thugs to shoot them in cold blood. He deserves to die for what he did here. If he’s telling us this about Adele, then he’s telling us for a reason. Don’t be taken in by his lies. He’d say and do anything to get himself out of here and that’s why we can’t trust him. He’s telling us what we want to hear. Don’t you see that?”

Jack stroked his wiry beard, flecked with grey hairs that caught the light. He closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. Was he being naïve in taking his words at face value? He thought he detected conflict in their prisoner, almost as if he wanted them to know the truth. But why?

“Listen,” added Scottie. “Let’s agree that he’s trying to manipulate us. To what end, we don’t yet know. But we should take nothing he says at face value.”

Jack patted Tommy on the back to reassure him. “Don’t worry, the truth will reveal itself in the fullness of time. It always does.”

Tommy and Scottie nodded silently, still puzzling over their earlier interrogation of the prisoner. Jack was replaying the conversation in his head, trying to read between the lines. Something about what the man in black had said didn’t stack up, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Somewhere within that stream of disinformation were hidden truths, loaded statements and cryptic messages he needed to decode. He must have known full well they would share any intelligence with the Americans. Something was missing that tied this all together, of that he was sure.

Tommy had known Jack long enough to trust that he would figure it out in the end. If you were prepared to wait that long. Patience, it had to be said, was not one of Tommy’s strong points.

“Nathan, you go talk to the girl and see what you can find out about these tests they were running. Ask her about this other girl he talked about, Stella. Even if there’s a chance they’re immune, we need to tell the Americans and get them to a secure location. This could accelerate the search for a cure. The Americans are setting up a center for research on the island, near Newport, led by Professor Nichols. The girls could be very important to his work.”

“You need to tell me more about the Americans and their plans. Right now, I have fragments only. I need to know the full picture,” implored Nathan.

“Yes of course. But first, I want another conversation with this Damian King. One on one. I think he’ll open up more, maybe let his guard down, if it’s just the two of us.”

“Be careful Jack. Don’t underestimate him. He’ll be plying you for information, just as much as you he, fishing for details, trying to influence you,” warned Scottie.

“I’ll be ok, Scottie. Tommy, can you stay with the guard outside and be ready to step in should the prisoner turn violent,” instructed Jack.

***

Jack retraced his steps to the improvised cell, followed a few paces behind by Tommy. He waited for the guard to find the key and unlock the door again. Jack took a deep breath, before going back inside carrying the hurricane lamp held high to light the way. He crouched down on his knees opposite the man in black, setting the lantern in between them on the floor and waited for the door to clang shut behind him. The prisoner ignored him altogether and continued staring up into the darkness, his eyes locked on a spider in the corner, quietly spinning its web. After a prolonged silence, the prisoner finally turned his head towards Jack. In the half-light, his eyes were like dead pools, devoid of life. His face was expressionless, like an impenetrable mask. Jack’s eyes narrowed, steeling himself to the task at hand. Trying to maintain a calm exterior and air of authority, pondering his next move. He imagined himself as a chess-master facing his greatest adversary, exploring cause and effect, waiting for his opponent to make a mistake.

“Something you forgot to ask Jack? I think I’ve told you everything I want to tell you, for now.”

“Now it’s just the two of us, let’s cut the crap, shall we? Let’s start again and have a proper conversation, man to man. Leader to leader, so to speak. But let’s not forget who holds the upper hand. Need I remind you that you are a prisoner of Hurst? I call the shots, not you. You’ll wait here in this cell until you tell us what we want to hear. For all I care, we can leave you in here and throw away the key. Wait until you’re ready to talk. No-one’s going to come and bust you out.”

He paused, waiting for his adversary to take stock, reconsider his surroundings, to reflect on who held the balance of power before continuing.

“So let’s you and me start over. Why don’t you begin by telling me why you really attacked the castle and why your men saw fit to leave you behind? My men seem to think you’re some kind of Trojan horse, but it sounds more like you got careless. You’d served your purpose and they discarded you like a broken pencil.”

The man in black smiled, shifting his body weight, adopting the same kneeling position as Jack, mirroring his body language. Leaning forward, the lantern lit his face from below. His features seemed suddenly contorted in the pale light, his eye sockets empty, almost ghoulish, his smile demonic.

“Oh I don’t know,” he opened brightly. “I always saw myself living in a castle one day. An Englishman’s home is his castle. Isn’t that what people used to say? But after seeing this old dump, I’ve changed my mind.” He paused, staring unblinking at Jack. “If you really need to be told why we attacked Hurst, I’ll tell you. There’s no big secret. That Bok of yours, Will, told me all about this place and I figured, why not? Eliminate a rival on our doorstep, claim the castle for myself, live happily ever after. Perhaps you haven’t noticed Jack, but it’s dog eat dog out there. Sooner or later someone was going to come along and take this place away from you. It was just a question of time. You can’t live in your little bubble for ever?”

“We’re more than capable of defending ourselves. I think you found that out for yourself last night. We’re peace-loving folk, we were never looking for a fight. We’re doing what we can to get by. It may not seem much to a power-hungry megalomaniac like yourself, but to us this is home, this is survival. Hurst is self-sufficient. Providing we catch enough fish and grow enough vegetables in the fields to feed the hungry, then we’re content. All the rest of what goes on out there is not our concern. Keeping our heads down, staying clear of the madness out there. Isn’t that the life and security people crave? That’s what we’ve built at Hurst.”

“It’s all a bit ‘Kum-ba-yah’ isn’t it, Jack? Sitting round a campfire, singing songs, saying prayers, slowly dying a little bit every day. Then what? Out there people are doing more than just surviving. They’re getting organized, reconnecting with other groups, rebuilding. What are you doing? You’re hiding? You have your heads in the sand. Sooner or later you’re going to have to get involved, choose a side. Alliances are forming and you can’t stay neutral forever. You’re not a colony, you’re a castle. A pile of bricks and stone, nothing more,” goaded the man in black, trying to rile Jack.

Jack parried with a dismissive wave, trying his best to remain calm, marshalling his rising sense of anger, adopting his best poker face.

“What makes you think we haven’t chosen sides already? You think we’re isolated and alone here? We’re not. We have friends, alliances, more than you can imagine. When you attack Hurst, you attack a whole network of Solent forts and small communities pulling together. We don’t stand-alone, we are an interconnected alliance growing and expanding. Just because we have chosen a life of neutrality and non-aggression doesn’t mean that we won’t defend ourselves, stand up for our way of life when challenged. I want you to know that we will hunt your men down like the vermin they are, wherever they’re hiding, we’ll find them. We have powerful friends who protect us and watch over us. You should know that there’s a new order coming to sweep away people like you, eliminate all of the chaos and disorder once and for all.”

“Oh I know all about the Americans and Camp Wight. Don’t tell me that’s your big secret, Jack? Do you really think you’re the only one that was invited to the meeting at Osborne House? Some of us chose not to go. Ever considered that? Do you take me for some provincial village idiot, Jack? I assure you I’m very well informed.”

Jack was blinking furiously, trying to keep his emotions under control, while his mind raced, trying to play catch up. He was genuinely lost for words for a second. Jack took a moment to compose himself, stroking his beard methodically, before he was ready to speak again.

“Things are moving quickly. Whatever you think you know, you only know the half of it,” said Jack before pausing abruptly. “Oh, but forgive me, perhaps you haven’t heard the news. All cooped up in here, cut off from everything that happened over the last few hours. You would do well to realize that you and I are but pawns in a much larger game and someone just raised the stakes sky high. There’s nothing now you can do to stop our plans. The wheels are already set in motion. Unless, that is, you have a whole army at your command?”

“Oh I have something much better than an army, or a navy for that matter. I have a virus. A pandemic virus. Left unchecked, it’s capable of wiping out human life on this planet as we know it. Phase one of that process is already complete. Whoever controls the cure, pulls the strings, holds the fate of all those who remain alive. Just think of the power bestowed upon whoever can be first to manufacture and distribute a vaccine? Wealth and influence beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.”

“And yet, despite all that
power
, you came back here for the girls. Risked your lives to get them back.” Jack laughed scornfully. “You’re bluffing. Without the girls, you have nothing.”

Damian sneered back at him, mocking Jack’s attempts to provoke him.

“Losing the girls was an inconvenience, a trifle, nothing more. A minor set back to our plans. The girls are of little importance. And you should know that without their regular injections to boost their immunity, they’ll die like all the rest and then you will have nothing. But I will still have years’ worth of research. We already know so much about the virus. We have samples of their blood, more than enough to continue our experiments. The girls mean nothing now. You can have them. They’re yours.”

Jack was beginning to panic. He was running out of moves. He’d played his cards, and found his adversary always seemed to hold the upper hand, or at least was better at bluffing than him. He was taunting Jack that he knew everything he knew and more, but how? He had to be in league with someone else who had been at Osborne. In his mind, he replayed the mental image of the drone footage, of Briggs standing next to Victor from the 
Maersk Charlotte
. An idea began to form. A conspiracy. Was it possible, they were all working together? A powerful alliance that would stop at nothing to see the plans for Camp Wight fail and chaos continue in the region. But why? Towards what end?

“Poor Jack,” Damian continued. “You really don’t understand do you? You really think that the Americans can just waltz in here and everyone will just roll over and let them tickle our tummies? Welcome them with open arms and share all our food and resources with a foreign power? Don’t be so naïve.”

“Au contraire. I can assure you it’s you who’s playing catch up. It seems you’re a little out of the loop. Oh how silly of me, I forgot. You’ve been out of contact with your men for several hours. Perhaps you haven’t heard?” parried Jack.