Bruce saw Graham peering at him and he turned away.
Through the window, he could see the harbour lights. He had watched Zander set sail. So had Powell, but he hadn’t intervened. Bruce wondered what would happen when he returned to port. Wasn’t disobeying a police officer a crime? Having never broken the law, Bruce was unsure of the rules, but he didn’t think running away from a questioning officer would go down too well. But then again, from Zander’s expression, he didn’t think the man could care less.
The darkness outside was intimidating. It allowed things to hide too easily. He shivered at the thought. The bright lights of the bar reflected off the glass, so it was hard to see out, but Bruce moved away from the window in case anything looked in and saw him
He anxiously fingered the wallet in his trouser pocket, hoping the influence of the lucky charms would pass through the leather. The way things were going, he needed all the good luck he could get.
A sudden noise made Bruce jump. It originated outside, sounded like a glass bottle kicked across the ground. All eyes turned to the window, then the lights went out.
Bruce heard a scream. He didn’t know who it was, or whether it was male or female. Shazam barked once. The tip of Erin’s cigarette shook in the dark.
“It’s probably the fuse,” Graham grumbled.
Bruce heard a chair scrape across the cold stone floor.
A light penetrated the dark, blinding Bruce as it swept across his face. “Is everyone okay?” Powell asked as he shone the flashlight around the room.
Despite his impaired vision, Bruce saw a few blurred heads nod in the glare of the torch, and heard grunts of ascension before he rubbed his eyes to clear his sight.
“Do you need a hand?” Powell asked as he shone the flashlight behind the bar. “Where’s he gone?”
“Who?” Bruce asked.
“The barman, Graham.”
“He was there a minute ago,” Erin said.
“Well he’s not now.” He approached the counter and shone the torch around the bar. “Graham, are you there?”
No one answered.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Jack asked.
“It’s okay, Graham’s just gone to check the fuses.”
“Then why isn’t he answering?”
Bruce wondered the same thing, but he didn’t want to encourage the nervousness permeating the room. He heard a sob, hoped it wasn’t Erin, but couldn’t see her in the dark. At times like this, he felt useless. Didn’t know what to do or say.
The torchlight illuminated an open door at the rear of the bar. Behind him, Bruce heard footsteps as the assembled crowd gathered around, close enough for him to hear their breathing.
He stared at the doorway.
“Graham?” Powell said.
A noise filtered through the door. Bruce heard those around him hold their breath in anticipation. Sudden movement at the edge of the doorway caught his eye. One of the young girls squealed. Bruce involuntarily clenched his fists; his eyes went wide, fearful. Then a face appeared.
The figure shielded its face. “Get that light out of my fuckin’ eye,” Graham said as Powell shone the torch at him.
The group released a collective breath. Bruce unclenched his fists. Powell lowered the torch. “Why didn’t you answer when I called?”
“Didn’t hear you. Thick walls.”
“Was it the fuse?” Erin asked.
Graham shook his head. “They all look fine to me. Probably a power cut.”
Bruce pointed to the window. “Then why aren’t the harbour lights out?”
All eyes turned towards the window, beyond which the harbour lights glowed. A murmur filtered around the bar.
“What’s going on?” Jen asked.
Powell waved his arms in the air, making the torchlight chase shadows around the room. “Now if everyone will just calm down. It’s probably nothing to worry about.”
“Of course it’s nothing to worry about,” Graham said
Bruce felt something brush against his leg. He looked down and saw Shazam, her head held high as she sniffed the air, ears cocked.
“What is it girl?”
Shazam looked up at him. In the near dark, her eyes glistened.
“What, you think you’re Doctor Doolittle now,” Graham said. “First monsters, now this. Jesus.” He snorted loudly.
“I’d better go and check around outside,” Powell said.
“First sensible thing you’ve said all night,” Graham snapped.
Bruce thought he saw Powell sigh, but he wasn’t sure as shadows played tricks with Powell’s face.
“Be careful,” Erin said.
Graham spat. “Let the man do his job.”
Although not a violent man, Bruce felt like punching Graham.
He watched as Powell turned and walked towards the door; wondered whether he should offer to accompany him, but decided against it. Now that he had Jack back, he didn’t want to let him out of his sight.
Once Powell walked outside, darkness descended upon the bar. Bruce felt something brush his hand, felt fingers intertwine with his own. He looked up, could just make out Erin in the gloom. He squeezed her hand, saw the reflection of her teeth as she smiled in return. Her aroma filled the air, a smell that excited him. He felt they were like school kids, sitting in the back row at the cinema, too shy to surrender to their feelings, but her presence was comforting.
His eyes slowly adapted to the lack of light, and he watched as Sara wandered over to the window and peered out. Beyond the glass, he could see torchlight flicker as Powell swept the area.
He saw Jack staring at him, realised he was still holding Erin’s hand and let go. As though sensing the reason for his action, Erin gave him an encouraging look and then lit another cigarette.
“What’s taking him so long?” Sara asked.
Rocky spoke for the first time, “Perhaps those things got him.”
“Not you as well. I would have thought you had more sense,” Graham said.
“You weren’t there.”
Graham poured himself a whisky and knocked it back.
Bruce saw movement in the doorway behind Graham, but before he had a chance to say anything, a figure rushed forward and struck Graham over the head. He dropped his glass. Bruce heard it shatter. Then Graham collapsed in a heap on the ground behind the bar.
Bruce was too stunned to move. His gaze travelled up the body of the new arrival until he saw her face: Lillian Brown.
By now, everyone had heard the commotion and Bruce heard a voice say, “Gran! My God, what are you doing?”
He turned to see Jen on her feet, shaking her head.
“Hush child,” Lillian said. Her wild eyes surveyed the room before coming to rest on Bruce. He shivered.
Although the bar was between them, Bruce could make out a club of some sort in her hand, which he surmised she had used to hit Graham over the head.
Lillian held her free hand up. “I’ve not come this far to be stopped now.”
“I don’t understand,” Jen said, her voice choked with tears.
“The sea needs sacrifices, child. That’s why this is happening.”
Bruce couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re crazy. Duncan, help me out here.”
He heard a bolt snap into place and turned to see Duncan standing with his back to the door.
“I’m sorry Bruce, but she’s right.”
Chapter 32
Zander saw McKenzie keep stealing glances his way, and he knew given the chance the drug dealer wouldn’t balk at killing him. But he hadn’t counted on a crew of trawler men who stared danger and death in the face every time they set sail, men who wouldn’t flinch at McKenzie’s threats.
The sea stretched before him, relentless. A shroud for the denizens of the deep. Zander steered a course for the rocks where he had picked up Jack and Jen. Despite his brave countenance, he felt nervous, his stomach bubbling with apprehension.