She grabbed it, intending to wash it under the tap and cut off the bits they had spoiled, but one of the beetles turned on her, slicing through the loose skin between her thumb and hand.
‘Oh hellV she swore at the quick stab of pain. ‘Bloody hell and—’
Ignoring the sharp pain, she took a grip on the beetle with her other hand and tugged it off, throwing it to the floor and stamping on it, but accidentally dropping the meat at the same time. From the wound the blood welled out, dripping down on to her skirt and shoes. She could have cried; she’d wanted to make it so nice for Jim before he went off for his interview.
Bending down to retrieve the steak she discovered more beetles crawling over her shoes, attracted by the blood, but even at that point she felt more angry than scared. She attempted to brush them away but they clung to her tenaciously, their nippers cutting through the nylon into the top of her foot.
God, they hurt!
She picked them off one by one, tugging them clear, but others came to take their place. Then she sensed something drop on to the back of her neck; fearfully she reached up to check and discovered two more on her forearm. They began probing her flabby flesh.
‘Oh, Jesus, I’ve got to stay calm!’ she whispered, forcing herself to flick them away from her arm. ‘I know I’ve got to stay calm… mustn’t panic…’
The beetle on her neck was now edging its way around her collar-bone towards the front, then heading upwards till its sharp claws lightly touched the base of her throat, nipping casually at the skin. A second one joined it, aiming along her jaw-line… passing her ear…
Her nerve broke. She screamed: a high-pitched, insane scream, and she couldn’t stop.
Those pincer claws dug into the lobe of her ear, while the beetle at her throat continued merely to explore, and yet another came jumping at her from out of nowhere, landing just above the cleavage of her breasts in the V-neck of her knitted jumper. The more she longed to brush them away, the deeper they dug into her, till she was on her knees begging them to leave her alone, to, let her live.
She felt so helpless… so useless… her screams were no more now than pathetic whimpers.
All over the floor they were scrambling towards her, hundreds of them emerging from every comer of the skirting board, swarming over her raw, bleeding ankles, biting through her tights into her calves, into the soft patches behind her knees, probing higher beneath her pleated skirt.
Over her hands too, jabbing their claws into the bulging veins and arteries of her wrists… climbing up her naked forearms… under her short sleeves… making their quick, neat incisions like razor-slashes in her neck…
Feeding on her, her mind told her. They were simply feeding on her and she couldn’t prevent it happening] Her strength had simply ebbed away.. her will-power gone… even her voice, save for one last strangled., choking yell of agony as & beetle penetrated her open rnouth and set to work on her tongue.
Oh Jim, she thought.
Though he seemed so far away now. Jim.
Five minutes later Jim Roberts arrived home, letting himself in. ‘Hazel, I’m back!’ he called out, hanging up his coat in the hall.
Then he went into the kitchen.
At three-thirty that afternoon the managing director’s secretary at Swift’s Retail Holdings PLC slipped discreetly into the boardroom where the interviews for the post of branch manager were being held. As Mr Roberts had not turned up, she whispered in his ear, would it be in order for her to send in the next candidate?
Rawnsley had come up trumps. During lunch at his Pall Mall club — selecting an old mellow claret of rare vintage to accompany the tender venison — he announced that his board had voted in favour of going ahead with the plan to scrap their existing system of computerised stock control and invest in the new generation technology. Guy returned to his office feeling more than pleased with himself. To provide the full range of hardware and tailor-made software for a major national motor maintenance chain could put his own company firmly into profit for the current year. This time the scheme felt right too, and that was important. Once — while still in the Army — he’d been allocated the task of escorting one of Australia’s self-made millionaires on a Ministry of Defence PR exercise to demonstrate their management training operations, which was the military’s latest fad. ‘Success in business?’ the Australian had drawled. ‘First, know what you’re talking about — that’s ten per cent. Next, use your head. Judgement — that’s another ten per cent. For the rest, gut feeling. Hunch. An’ you can’t teach hunch.’ Guy’s bunch was that this deal would work out just right.
‘I’ve put a message on your desk,’ Sarah greeted him when he walked through the door. ‘Seems to be urgent.’ ‘Who from?’ he asked.
She gave him one of her quizzical smiles. ‘Miss Armstrong again. Could you meet her this afternoon? She gave an address. Said it was urgent, but it was over an hour ago when she phoned.’
Guy glanced at his watch. It was already past four o’clock. On his blotter was the tom-off sheet from the message pad with the address in Sarah’s handwriting. His in-tray was piled high with the paperwork he should try to get through before the end of the day, and his managing director would want to know about the Rawnsley deal.
‘Did Miss Armstrong say anything else? Any details?’ ‘Nothing.’ Sarah thought back, frowning. ‘Except something about two more. There are two more. But then she said no, just give you the address.’
‘Bloody hell!’ She must mean two more people killed,
but by what? They now knew both the beetles and their larvae were equally deadly. ‘Look, Sarah, can you check this address in your A to Z while I find out if Mrs Lee can spare me five minutes?’
‘Think she’s out,’ Sarah told him, taking the paper. Guy tried her number on the intercom and got her secretary. It seemed that Mrs May Lee, the company’s managing director, had gone to Cambridge and was not expected back that afternoon. At least that got one problem out of the way, though he felt a pang of disappointment; after his big disaster earlier in the year he’d been looking forward to reporting this little triumph.
‘The road is not far from where you live,’ Sarah said, coming back into his office with the open book in her hand. She showed it to him. ‘Worth Road.. turn into Egerton Street… then left, and left again.’
‘They’re all clustered around the same district.’ The thought had suddenly struck him that none of the known incidents so far had been very far from the old school. ‘All within about a mile radius.’
‘I’ve not the slightest idea what you’re talking about,’ she retorted. ‘What’s the big mystery?’
‘Beetles.’
‘You mean the kind that—’ She pointed to his face. ‘Urgh, hope I never meet any.’
‘Sarah, so do I.’
He would have to return afterwards to clear the stuff in his in-tray even if it meant working through the evening, he decided. At Sarah’s insistence he delayed long enough to sign four or five letters that had to get into the post; then, apologising to her for having to rush off once more, he headed for the door.
‘Don’t get yourself all chewed up again, will you?’ she said lightly as he went out.
Her words stayed with him as he drove, cursing the traffic. She was right about the address being close to where he lived; in fact, it was no more than a few streets away, and under those circumstances he knew he would never have been abie to concentrate at his desk. Probably by this time Kath would be home, and the thought of her playing alone in the house worried him. Before returning to the office later he’d have to drop in to see how she was, because he doubted if Dorothea would be back.