“I don’t mean that.” He turns to me. “I mean, how long do you think you’ve got left to live? You’re an old man and you’re hardly in good shape. In perfect circumstances you might last a few more years, but with the world as it is, you’ve got… I don’t know, a month or two? I mean, look at you. You’re sweating already, and it’s cool in here.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Glass,” I reply, before turning and heading toward the door. “All the best.”
“Stop.”
I keep going until I reach the door, only to find that it is locked. I try it a couple of times, just to be sure, and then I slowly turn to see that Glass is watching me intently.
“Joshua was in the womb when the music stopped,” he explains. “Sometimes I wonder whether he might have heard something while he was in there. It’s impossible to be certain, of course, but his mother certainly believed that it was possible. She used to try singing to him when he was in his crib, she tried for hours and hours every day, but nothing came. Can you imagine how that felt for her, Mr. Harrisford? I think it’s what drove her mad in the end. The inability to sing for her child.”
“And where is she now?” I ask cautiously.
“My wife?” He hesitates, and then he furrows his brow. “Do you know what? I can’t remember what happened to her.” He glances around, as if looking for some trifling object that he’s replaced. “She’s not here anymore, but she was with us when we arrived at Lindisfarne.”
He pauses, and then he shakes his head.
“It’s the strangest thing,” he continues, “but I simply cannot remember what happened to poor Lara.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t like tyrants,” I suggest.
“Perhaps, or…”
His voice trails off for a moment, and then he begins to nod slowly.
“Now I remember,” he adds with a sigh. “I already told you that she went mad when she couldn’t sing for our son. Well, I’m afraid that despite my every effort to help her, she ended up tossing herself off the cliff. How did I manage to forget that? Maybe it was too painful to think back to the sight of her down there on the rocks.”
I turn to look at the child, who is now staring down at his own two feet. I suppose now I understand what he was thinking about earlier, when I met him out there.
“You lost your mother young, didn’t you?” Glass says, and I turn to see him watching me with a faint smile. “How tragic. I’m sure you can understand how my son feels. You must have empathy for him. What better way to help him, however, than to play him some music?”
“Your efforts at manipulation are a little transparent,” I reply.
This irritates him. I can see that from the expression on his face, and I can’t shake the feeling that beneath his calm exterior there’s a molten vat of seething anger and resentment. I glance once again at the young boy, and for a moment I feel utterly sorry for the child. What chance can he have, growing up with such father?
“Maybe I should make things a little clearer for you, Mr. Harrisford,” Glass says finally, setting the glass of wine down and then heading over to a laptop on a nearby table.
Affecting an air of cool disinterest, I wander to a nearby window and peer out. To my surprise, I see that several of the guards are hurrying away, making their way across the grass as if they’re abandoning ship and heading for the causeway. Indeed, there are a lot of them out there, and I can’t help wondering whether the entire gang is leaving. Darkness is falling, and I’m not sure that they’ll have much luck out there. They must be rather desperate.
Suddenly I hear a whirring sound, and I turn to see that – as Glass taps at his laptop – panels are slowly opening at several spots all around the room. I look at the nearest panels and see that is contained some kind of small device that looks like a set of black bottles stuck together.
“I’m not a man who messes around,” Glass says, and now his voice sounds harsher and more clipped, “so forgive me if this seems a trifle extreme. However, I need you to play tonight, Mr. Harrisford, and you’ve given me no choice in the matter. So allow me to introduce a little extra encouragement.”
“I’m really not in the mood to be threatened,” I say firmly, although I can’t help peering at these strange devices and feeling a tad concerned.
“I’m not threatening you, Mr. Harrisford,” Glass replies. “I’m merely informing you of the situation. There are sixteen explosive devices around the edges of this room. That’s more than enough to blow the roof off, so I really think you should consider your options here.”
Turning to him, I see a mad glint in his eyes.
“I always get what I want,” he adds, with his hand resting on the laptop’s keyboard, “and I want you to play. So play.”
Thirty-Five
“You’re lying,” I say after a moment, refusing to believe that Joshua Glass is quite this insane. “These empty threats won’t work.”
“Do I need to provide a demonstration?” he asks.
“I’m not going to give in to tyrants!” I say firmly, before turning to head back to the door. Perhaps I can break the wretched thing down. “I have never in my life been one to—”
Before I can finish, one of the devices explodes on the far side of the room. I spin around just in time to see debris being cast out across the floor, and smoke rises from the site of the detonation.
“That was just one of them,” Glass says calmly. “There are still fifteen of the devices left, and I can assure you that when they all explode at once, they’ll destroy this place.” His hands is still resting on the laptop. “I’m losing patience with you, Mr. Harrisford. You’ve demonstrated your defiance, and I commend you for that, but it’s time to grow up and be a little more considerate. Play that guitar.”
“I…”
For a moment, I consider doing as I’m ordered, but then I feel a kind of burning anger in my chest. All my life, I’ve resisted doing what I’m told. There has always been a little voice in my head, telling me to resist orders. At times, that voice has been my undoing, and has held me back from opportunities. But if that is the case, I am most certainly not going to break the habit of a lifetime now. I am not going to bend the knee for this asshole.
“Play it,” he says again.
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“I know you can.”
“If I play the last of my music,” I reply, “then I shall have nothing left. It’s the most precious thing in the world to me and I can’t give it to—”
“Play it!” he screams suddenly, stepping away from the table and hurrying toward me in a moment of sudden fury. “I swear, you will play that thing!”
“I—”
Before I can finish, he grabs me by the shoulders and swings me around, shoving me into the wall with such force that I feel a flicker of pain in my back. At the same time, I lose my grip on the guitar, letting it clatter down against the floor.
“He has to hear!” he snarls, leaning closer to my face. “I brought you all the way here, old man, and now you will play that guitar! I don’t care what you play! It’s been five years and I’ve heard no music at all. I’ve tried to keep my head together, but I’m coming apart at the seams! And my son struggles every day with this great gap in his life! I’ve tried being nice, Mr. Harrisford, but I’m reaching the end of my tether.” He leans even closer, until I can feel his hot breath on my skin. “I’m ordering you to play the guitar!”
“And I’m telling you,” I reply, “that I—”
Suddenly he lets out a furious scream and pulls me away from the wall, and then he throws me to the floor. I land hard and let out a gasp of pain, but a moment later I feel a boot slamming into the back of my neck and forcing me back down. I try to get free, but the boot digs harder and harder against my spine, and I can hear Glass snarling and hissing as he towers above me.