Vortex

The soldier stretched out his arm and grabbed Annie firmly by the face, pinching her cheeks. 'I'll tell you what,' he said in a low growl. 'How about you shut up, and I'll see to it that you don't end up like your old friend there.'

The other two soldiers sniggered at his comment.

Annie's lips thinned; Ben prayed that she would just keep quiet, but he knew how likely that was. 'You should be ashamed of yourself,' she spat at the soldier. 'You're a disgrace to the uniform, and when I next speak to my father—'

'Annie, no!' Ben interrupted her.

'Shut up, Ben. When I next speak to my father, he's going to hear about this.'

The soldier grinned at his colleagues. 'Any particular reason why we should be running scared from your daddy?'

'Well,' Annie replied. 'That all depends on your rank, doesn't it?'

The soldier's eyes narrowed. 'Flight lieutenant,' he said cautiously.

'Right,' Annie smiled with satisfaction. 'Then he outranks you by four rungs.'

The soldier looked like he was working that out in his head. 'Your dad's an air commodore?' he asked.

'Yeah,' said Annie, 'and I think he'll have something to say about the way you treated Joseph, don't you?'

But the flight lieutenant didn't seem to be listening. Instead he stood up and, keeping his free hand against the side of the truck to steady himself as they continued down the bumpy road, he knocked the butt of his rifle against the cab. Three times. A clear, measured signal, and the truck trundled to a halt. The three soldiers sat exchanging nervous glances while they waited for the two in the front to open the back.

'What is it?' the soldier who seemed to be in charge asked impatiently.

'The girl,' replied the flight lieutenant. 'She says her father's an air commodore.'

The soldiers fell silent, clearly digesting this information. As they did, Ben found himself looking from face to face. When his gaze finally fell on the other soldier standing outside the truck, he blinked.

He recognized that face. He had seen him somewhere before.

'Change of plan,' the leader barked, interrupting Ben's thoughts. 'We'll take them to the doc.'

The flight lieutenant looked troubled. 'The doc? Are you sure that's a good idea, sir.'

'We haven't got any choice. He can decide what to do next. And this thing will be over in twenty-four hours, and by that time we'll all be out of the country.'

'But, sir—'

'It's an order, soldier,' the leader barked, and he slammed the back of the truck shut. From outside, Ben heard the leader talk to the soldier he recognized. 'Take us there,' he said. 'And make sure we're not followed.' Seconds later, they were moving again.

'Where are we going?' Annie asked the soldiers. She was unable to hide the nervousness in her voice.

The soldiers didn't answer — the arrogance seemed to have been kicked out of them by the curt words of their superior officer. Instead, they sat there quietly, exchanging the occasional nervous glance that did nothing for Ben's confidence in where all this was leading.

As they travelled, Ben did his best to pay attention to the twists and turns of their route. Why he did so he couldn't have said. They were in the custody of armed RAF soldiers, so any thoughts they might have of trying to escape and weave their way back to the outskirts of the base would be pretty ill-advised. But there was something about these guys that didn't ring true. 'What did he mean?' He asked the question out loud, but it was more to himself than anything else.

'Who?' the flight lieutenant said.

'Back then, when he said you'd all be out of the country.'

'Shut up,' he was told for the second time in the past few minutes.

They endured about twenty minutes of uncomfortable driving. Ben and Annie looked at each other nervously, and then over at Joseph, who was simply staring impassively against the opposite wall. As they drove, Ben found himself remembering the stark warning the old man had given the previous night. 'Strange things going on at Spadeadam.'

Too right, he thought to himself. Too right.

They came to a sudden stop: the doors opened and the three soldiers jumped down. 'Get out,' the leader barked. Slowly, the handcuffed trio stood up and made their way down from the truck. The five soldiers were standing outside an old building — more of a shack really, made of wood stained dark with creosote. As they stood there brandishing their weapons, Ben sought out the face he recognized. There was no doubt about it — he had only caught a fleeting glimpse of the man, and even then from a distance, but he was absolutely sure he knew where he had seen him before. As if to confirm his suspicion, he saw that the man was carrying a rifle, unlike any of the other RAF soldiers he had seen.

'Shot any rare birds lately?' he asked the soldier, one eyebrow raised in ironic questioning.

The man's eyes narrowed. 'How—?' he started to say, but the commanding officer interrupted him.

'Quiet, all of you.' He pointed at Joseph, Ben and Annie. 'You three, inside.'

Ben gave the soldiers a disparaging look, and they were hustled through the door, which was closed and locked behind them.

'This isn't right,' Annie let out explosively as soon as they were alone. 'They're up to something. They'd never—'

'I know,' interrupted Ben sharply. And then, more soothingly, 'I know.'

Annie breathed in deeply. 'You sure that was him — the one who shot the hen harrier?'

'Positive,' Ben replied. 'Absolutely positive.'

The shack was dark, the only source of light being a small window in the side that was covered in a thick layer of greasy dust. Joseph stood at the window, looking out emotionlessly. He did not seem even remotely bothered by the bruising on his face — it was as though he didn't even feel it. 'Joseph,' Ben said, trying to get his attention.

The old man continued to stare out of the window.

'Joseph,' Ben repeated. 'You have to listen to me. Do you remember when we spoke last night?'

Slowly Joseph turned to look at him.

'You told me it was obvious why someone had been shooting birds round here. It's to keep us away, isn't it? People like us, I mean. There's something going on here and they don't want anyone snooping around.'

Joseph smiled at him, revealing his yellowing teeth. 'Well done, Ben,' he said quietly. 'It's good to see young minds working properly.' He turned to look back out of the window again. 'Wildlife was always a problem for them, even in the old days. Brought people to the area, you see. People like you. And the last thing they ever wanted was inquisitive minds lurking around, so they tried to keep the numbers of the rare animals down.'

'That cellar,' Annie asked. 'What is it? You said you'd been looking for it. Why? Have you been there before?'

'Oh, yes,' Joseph replied, his voice little more than a whisper. 'I've been there before. Many, many years ago. That was where it all started for me. Or should I say, where it all ended.'

'What ended?'

Joseph turned back to look at her.

'My life,' he said.

Ben felt a chill descend. A million questions poured into his head — there was so much more to this strange old man than he had previously thought — and he barely knew where to begin. But he didn't even get a chance, because at that moment he heard the door open.

All three of them spun round nervously to see who was there.

The man who filled the doorway was not dressed in combat fatigues; instead he wore a thin brown suit and a black tie. He was old, at least as old as Joseph — indeed he did not look dissimilar. His hair was balding, he had round glasses and a short, neatly trimmed grey beard and his skin was deeply lined. Under his eyes were huge black bags that would have looked odd on any other face, but somehow, Ben thought, suited the funereal features of this stern-looking individual.