Lair r-2 Page 7

  Fender decided he liked the man even less than before.

  Then why this sudden evidence of them?" he said firmly. "Why are they suddenly losing this timidity?"

  "Just a combination of circumstances, Fender. If and that's a big if as far as I'm concerned if they do exist, they still haven't attacked a human, have they?"

  "Not yet. But they might."

  "Look, Fender, I've stated my case quite frankly to you. Now, I'm not trying to prevent you from doing your duty, Lord knows I haven't that power, but I am asking you to reconsider your action. Why not investigate further before you recommend evacuation and quarantine? I have a staff of over seventy who I'm sure would be only too pleased to assist you in any way possible. My forest keepers and woodsmen could help you in your search. I'm not saying you shouldn't inform the Ministry, of course, you must do that, but all I'm saying is, don't jump to hasty conclusions. By all means, bring your people in, but surely we can keep what's the expression? yes, a "low profile" on this. Until you're absolutely sure. What do you say?"

  Fender shook his head wearily. "I'm sorry, Mr. Whitney-Evans, I really am. But the risk is too great. If anything nasty should happen while we're still searching, then it would be my responsibility."

  The Superintendent's tone was acid. "No, not your responsibility, Fender. Your company's. But I wonder what they would say about this inflexible attitude of yours?"

  Well, you can find out." Fender rose and made for the door. "Why don't you ask them?" He paused and looked back at the Superintendent, whose face was, yet again, flushed bright red.

  "I'll do just that, Fender. I also have some very good connections in the Ministry of Agriculture we work closely together, you know. I'll see what they have to say about the matter."

  Fender could not be bothered to reply. He resisted the urge to slam the door behind him, and made his way out of the house.

  "Bloody idiot," he allowed himself to say as he crunched his way back down the lane.

  By the time he got back to the Conservation Centre, phone calls had been made. His intention had been to inform the Warden of his decision, then to get in touch with Stephen Howard at Ratkill, who would advise the appropriate authorities. But Alex Milton was waiting for him in the reception area of the Centre, a concerned look on his face.

  "Ah, Mr. Fender," he said, striding forward to meet the rat catcher We weren't sure if you'd return to the Centre this evening. We thought you might go straight back to your company to make your report."

  "No, I wanted to have a word with you first. Can we go into your office?"

  "Of course. In fact, I've just had your Research Director on to me. He said he'd like you to ring him immediately if you showed up here."

  Fender looked at the Warden quizzically.

  "He said it was important," Milton said somewhat lamely.

  Fender had his suspicions before he even picked up the phone. He dialled the Ratkill number and asked to be put through to Stephen Howard.

  "Stephen? It's Luke."

  "Ah, Luke. Good. Now what have you been up to there in Epping Forest?

  Seems you've stirred things up."

  "Meaning?"

  Well, I've just had old Thoraton from the Ministry of Agriculture on to me. Says you've been upsetting a chum of his by the name of Whitney-Evans. Superintendent of the forest, isn't he?"

  "Oh, for Christ's sake! The man wants to do a cover-up. He doesn't want the forest to be evacuated."

  The Warden looked both embarrassed and startled. He sat down.

  Howard's voice on the other end of the phone was sharp. "Evacuate.

  That's a bit drastic, isn't it? What makes you think the Black rat is in the forest?"

  Fender quickly told him what he'd seen, been told, deduced. The phone buzzed with static for a few moments.

  "Sorry, Luke, I'm afraid that's not enough."

  "Not enough? You've got to be kidding."

  "No, old boy, I'm not. Look, I'm going over there for a meeting.

  Thornton's already set something up with this Whitney-Evans for nine o'clock. Can you hang around until then?"

  "Yes, I can hang around." Fender felt a heaviness dragging him down.

  Howard had obviously been asked to soft-pedal by Thornton, who was a Private Secretary in the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food, and a major contact between Ratkill and the government. Ratkill had always worked closely with the Ministry's Safety Pesticides and Infestation Control Division, even though the Ministry of Defence had become involved in the London Outbreak, and in the subsequent years after the supposed elimination of the Black rat, they had become even more united in their joint work. Howard was unlikely to go against the wishes of one of the Ministry's private secretaries, and it was obvious Thornton was one of Whitney-Evans' 'good connections'.

  "Are you still there, Luke?" Howard's voice interrupted Fender's thoughts.

  "I'm still here," he said.

  "Right. The meeting will be held in the Conservation Centre itself.

  Apart from the Warden, I'd like this girl, the tutor who says she saw the rats, to attend, as well as the forest's head keeper. Dugdale from the Safety Inspectorate will also be there. Don't worry, Luke, we'll soon sort things out."

  We'll need to. Fast. You know how the situation in London got out of hand."

  "Of course I do. I was in the thick of it. But look, I feel certain this is just an isolated case."

  "I wish I shared your confidence."

  "I don't want you to discuss this any further, Luke, not until the meeting." The forced lightness had left the research director's voice.

  "In case I upset anybody else?"

  "No, because the matter must be treated in the strictest confidence,"

  came Howard's curt reply.

  "A party of schoolchildren and their teacher saw the rats, too."

  "Yes, but I understand they've been convinced they saw something completely different."

  "Oh, have they," Fender said flatly.

  "Until later then, Luke?"

  "Okay." Fender replaced the receiver and found himself looking into the eyes of Milton. "I need a drink," he said.

  "I wish I could join you," Milton replied, smiling apologetically. "I'm afraid I have a lecture due to begin shortly and I have to greet our guest speaker."

  Fender nodded and left the Warden's office, suppressing the anger he felt. If anything disastrous happened while they wasted time ... And yet, he could see their point of view. It would be a massive operation to clear the whole woodland area, and would undoubtedly send waves of panic, not just through that green belt area, but through all the surrounding districts. London, itself. And if it did prove to be a false alarm ... He pushed the thought of consequences from his mind.

  The girl had seen the rats, and she didn't seem the type who would put the fear of God into everyone if she thought there might be some doubt.

  He walked the length of the corridor and entered the reception area.

  Jenny Hanmer, talking to a tall, bearded man, saw him and gave him a smile. The bearded man turned at Fender's approach.

  "Hello, Luke," Jenny greeted him. This is Vie Whittaker, our Senior Tutor."

  Fender nodded. He judged the tutor to be in his late-thirties, prematurely grey hair streaking his close-cropped, black beard.

  Whittaker looked fixedly at the rat catcher

  "I'm rather disturbed at what Jenny tells me, Mr. Fender," he said.

  "It's something to be disturbed about," Fender replied. He turned to the girl. There's going to be a meeting tonight, Jenny, here at the Centre. The powers-that-be want you to attend."

  "But aren't they going to do something right away?" Jenny asked.

  They'll decide exactly what to do at the meeting. First we've got to convince them there really is a threat."

  That's ridiculous! Surely..."

  "I know, I've just been through all that. I suppose it's sensible to hold an inquiry before they decide on a plan of action. So fa
r, you're the only reliable witness, so it'll be up to you to assure them you're not just over-imaginative. The other evidence we have will help."

  "Do you think they will be convinced?" asked Whittaker.

  Fender paused before he spoke. To tell the truth, I just don't know.

  My guess is that they'll play for more time. All I want to do now is to get a bite to eat and a beer. Care to join me, Jenny?"

  Jenny said, "Yes, I would," and Fender caught the sharp look the senior tutor gave her.

  "What about the lecture this evening? Aren't you coming to that?"

  Whittaker said.

  "I don't think I'm really in the mood for "A Naturalist's Journey to Iran and the Persian Gulf" at the moment, Vie," she replied. "After what I saw today, I could use a stiff drink myself."

  "I'll see you later then." Whittaker turned and strode off down the corridor leading to the classrooms.

  Fender ignored the exchange. "Okay," he said, smiling at Jenny, 'lead me to a pub."

  They drove past the huge public house close to the Centre and headed south, using the car's lights at full-beam because of the total darkness that had descended on the forest. The road had sudden dips and Fender kept to its centre because of the rough banks on either side, adjusting his headlights and pulling over to the left when the occasional car approached from the opposite direction. He noticed they passed several high, bricked walls which he guessed hid some large properties. In a clearing to his left he saw lights shining.

  That's a forest keeper's house," Jenny told him. There are quite a few scattered throughout the woodland."

  "And what's that coming up on the right?" he asked, pointing to a sign ahead of them.

  That's the Suntrap Field Study Centre."

  "Anything to do with your place?"

  "Not really. We work together from time to time."

  The moon suddenly appeared from behind rolling clouds and the landscape was bathed in its silvery light. They passed a farm, and then the road swung hard to the right and they found themselves ascending a steep hill, more houses on their right, a riding stable on the left. The public house was on the top of the hill, opposite a group of buildings surrounded by a high wire fence. "What's that?" Fender asked.

  "Oh, that belongs to the police. It's a training camp for cadets. They also have a firing range and a place for training their dogs."

  Fender turned the car into the car park at the rear of the pub and stopped. He shivered in the cold night air as they crossed the tarmac, heading for an entrance to the bars. Looking around, he saw they were quite high above the forest, gentle fields leading down into dense woodland below them. But what he saw in the flattened area immediately next to the pub brought him to a halt.

  "What is that, Jenny? What are those buildings?"

  Jenny followed his gaze. "It's a mobile homes estate. You know, like caravans but with no wheels."

  "Do you know how many houses there are?"

  There are two estates over there, one of about twenty, the other about thirty or forty. They're separated by a farm. Another one is at the end of Hornbeam Lane, but not many people know about it it's very secluded. I think there are twenty homes on that."

  "Christ," he said. "I didn't realize the forest had such a heavy population. It may make us look silly, Jenny, but I just hope-to-God we're wrong about the rats."

  As he spoke, a heavy cloud covered the moon's brightness and he suddenly felt vulnerable to the night. He took Jenny's arm and guided her into the welcoming warmth of the pub.

  Onslaught

  The creature shifted position in the bed of straw and damp earth, obese body making movement difficult, legs no longer able to support the great weight comfortably. Others moved around in the darkness, mewing sounds and the slivering of bodies occasionally breaking the silence of the black, underground chamber. They did not approach the creature in the corner, fearing its wrath, knowing to approach could mean the tearing apart of their own grey, swollen bodies. Not by the creature itself, but by the three black-haired guards that crouched nearby.

  Tiny bones lay scattered around in the darkness and occasionally they would be picked up and ground to a fine powder by powerful jaws. There was a restlessness among the sluggish bodies and the creature in the corner sensed their mood. A gurgling sound came from its throat and it was joined by another, similar noise, close by, almost from the same point in the darkness. All movement stopped. They listened.

  The gross body thrashed around in the straw and the other creatures flattened themselves against the ground, pushing themselves into the rubble and exposing their fleshy necks in a ritual of self-abasement.

  It was old now and did not remember the journey to this place, the long journey through the underground tunnels, crouching, terrified in the dark, as the huge things thundered over their heads, urging the others on with high-pitched squeals, keeping them together, fleeing from where they were hunted, where the extermination of their species was taking place, instinct for survival their only ally. They had been freed from the cellar and had slain their liberators, eating the bodies before venturing forth.

  Inherited knowledge drove them below ground, for they had no adult to lead them; they had devoured their mother in the final days in the cellar. The creature had dominated its brothers and sisters from the beginning; although they were part of the same evolvement, its body was different from theirs. They were dark, covered in a blackish-brown fur. It was not.

  It had led them through the tunnels, resting only when they were completely exhausted. The two weakest had been used for sustenance and had hardly protested their deaths. The group had gone on, following the tracks, cautious when they heard human voices, knowing this was the enemy, these were the hunters. The fresh biting air that reached their nostrils had shocked them and they had cowered in the darkness. But the dominant one had ventured forward and the others had followed. The night sky was above them and they clung to the shadows.

  The others had wanted to leave the tracks then and go out to where there were houses and living flesh, but it would not let them. They were still in the city, and that meant danger. They hid when daylight came, trembling, fortunate to have found another tunnel further on.

  Then with the night, they found something completely new to them, and they welcomed it.

  They had never experienced the long flowing grass before, but they relished its softness and the cover it afforded them. It teemed with small, living things and because they were still young, they forgot their fear and wanted to play. But their leader would not let them; it knew that danger was all around. It led them up the grassy embankment, away from the railway track, away from the tunnels in which the trains sped beneath the city, and into the woodland, a new world where they could breathe the air and run free. It could sense that the humans were still there, but the further they went into the woodland, so the presence became less noticeable. They crossed hard, concrete strips, fearful of the racing monsters whose eyes shone far ahead into the night, and eventually, as dawn approached, they rested. They were still afraid, but it seemed the badness was over.

  The group soon adapted to their new life and they never lost their cunning. They grew to a size that made them fearful to the other animals of the forest, and they mated. But the one whose body was different from the others would not rest; it could not adapt as the others had, for it knew they were not yet safe. And it missed something. It felt unprotected in the open.

  They journeyed further, always at night, always in a tight-packed group, flowing through the grassland and skulking in dark places when the sun rose. They found the heart of the forest, and the dominant one found the resting-place it needed, somewhere it could feel safe, where it could hide its deformed body in constant darkness. It had found the perfect lair.

  It had grown old, living twice the normal life-span of the creatures it was derived from; and it had mated, creating ofFspring that were in its own image. Not many completely of its kind lived, and those that survived
were weak and not always able to fend for themselves. Yet they dominated the others of the litter, the dark-furred ones, and the two strains lived together, the latter foraging for food and bringing it back to the lair for the leader and its natural heirs.

  It never left the confines of the lair now, for its misshapen body had become too heavy, too bloated. It still ruled over them all, but it could sense the mounting tension. Its followers were becoming increasingly restless, both the black and those more like itself craving for something they could not understand. Although they were now many in numbers, they had remained hidden for several years, their inborn fear of what lay beyond binding them to the woodland, away from the eyes of humans. But it was as if their numerical strength was making them bolder, giving them a courage they had not possessed before. And the craving grew stronger each day, the forest animals they killed failing to satiate their strange yearning.