The Nemesis Program. Scott Mariani
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from the window to face him. ‘I wouldn’t have come here, Ben. But I didn’t know what else to do. Who else to turn to. Something’s going on. I think I’m in danger. Hell, I know I am. It’s serious.’
She tensed as the living room door suddenly swung open. Jude walked in, took one look at her, stopped in his tracks and broke into a beaming smile. ‘Oh. Hi.’
‘This is Jude,’ Ben told her. ‘He’s my … never mind.’ Turning to Jude, he said, ‘How about making a cup of coffee, Jude?’
Roberta shook her head. ‘I don’t want any coffee.’
‘Then go make one for yourself,’ Ben said, giving Jude a stern look.
‘I don’t really w—’ Jude began, then got the point and turned to leave the room. ‘Nice to meet you, whoever you are,’ he called back over his shoulder.
‘What do you mean, danger?’ Ben asked her when they were closed in the room alone. ‘What kind of danger?’
‘The kind where I’m being followed,’ she said seriously.
He blinked. ‘Followed by who?’
‘All I know is that these people are after me, Ben. That’s why I’m here. I’m scared.’
Ben let out a long sigh. This wouldn’t be the first time Roberta, an incurable maverick with an apparently irresistible penchant for researching into areas of science that were liable to draw all kinds of the wrong attention, had got herself into trouble. And it had been big trouble that had brought her and Ben together in Paris that memorable autumn – a scrape that both of them had been lucky to escape from with their lives.
‘Please don’t tell me it’s alchemy again,’ he said.
‘It’s not alchemy.’
‘Or some other hocus-pocus. Go on, then. What’s it this time?’
Her eyes flashed defensively. ‘Hocus-pocus?’
‘Whatever. It got you into a bit of a mess, if you care to remember.’
‘Yeah, well, this time it’s different. This isn’t even about me.’
‘Then what the bloody hell is it about?’ he demanded.
Her defensive look was undiminished. ‘Wouldn’t folks of your, uh, persuasion consider it blasphemous to say that word when you’re togged up in that outfit?’ she fired at him.
‘Never mind the outfit,’ he said irritably. ‘It’s just …’
‘Fancy dress?’
‘A long story, Roberta. I don’t think you’ve come all this way to hear it.’
Somewhere in the house, the landline phone was ringing. Ben faintly heard Jude pick up and talk to someone.
Roberta nodded, swallowed and then began to talk all in a rush. ‘All right. Listen. It’s about my friend. Her name’s … her name was Claudine, Claudine Pommier. In Paris. She was killed. Murdered. The cops say it was the maniac they’re calling le bricoleur.’
‘The “handyman”?’ Ben said, trying to make sense of her flurry of words.
‘A serial killer,’ Roberta explained agitatedly. ‘He’s claimed four victims in different parts of Paris. The cops say Claudine was his fifth. He’s a sick piece of shit who creeps into women’s homes and murders them.’
‘Slow down. Why do they call him the “handyman”?’ Ben asked.
‘Because of the way he kills them,’ she replied with a grimace. ‘You want me to draw you a picture? Power tools. Nail guns. Hammers and chisels.’
‘I get the idea,’ Ben said, repelled. ‘Go on.’
‘Claudine was found with … Jesus, it’s too awful. With her lungs full of expanding foam, the kind builders use to fill wall cavities and things. She suffocated.’
Ben had seen a good number of people die in a good many unpleasant ways, but this was almost too gruesome to imagine, even for him. He felt disgusted.
‘It happened three days ago,’ Roberta said. ‘I only found out this morning. I’d just flown in from Ottawa to see her.’ She paused to wipe away the tears of grief and rage that had clouded her eyes.
‘I’m very sorry. All I can say is that they’re sure to catch this guy. If there was anything I could do …’
Roberta shook her head vehemently. ‘You’re not understanding me. Let me finish. There’s more to it, a lot more. I—’
At that moment the living room door swung open again and Jude stepped in, interrupting Roberta’s flow. ‘Ben?’ he said. ‘Brooke just called. Says a lorry shed its load on the motorway. Be here as soon as she can.’
‘Fine,’ Ben said, not taking his eyes off Roberta.
‘So, you here for the wedding?’ Jude asked her cheerily, appearing not to have noticed the tense mood in the room.
‘Wedding?’ she said, arching an eyebrow.
‘Listen,’ Ben said quickly. ‘Why don’t we go for a drive? There’s a quiet park on the other side of the village. We can talk in peace there,’ he added, throwing an icy look at Jude, whose face dropped.
Outside, Roberta looked around her. ‘Can we go in your car? My ass aches from driving.’
‘I don’t have one,’ Ben said. ‘I came on the bus.’
‘What about that there?’ she said, pointing at the rusted heap that Jude somehow managed to get about in.
‘We’ll be lucky if we get it out of the gate,’ he said.
‘So you dress like a priest and you travel around by bus,’ she snorted. ‘That doesn’t sound like the Ben Hope I used to know.’
‘Vicar,’ he corrected her. ‘And you’re right. I’m not the same man you used to know.’
Ben and Roberta left her blue Vauxhall and followed the footpath that skirted the edge of the sunlit park. They’d spoken little during the short drive through the village. Ben could feel the tension emanating from her. Whatever was scaring her, it seemed genuine, but he didn’t know what to say. He waited for her to speak first.
Perhaps because of the unseasonal heat, or perhaps because the new generation of British kids preferred to sit stuffing their mouths at the computer rather than play outdoors any longer, the park was almost deserted. In the distance, a petite young mother was lifting her son of four or five onto one of the swings. An elderly, fragile-looking couple were making their slow way arm-in-arm along the footpath towards Ben and Roberta. As they passed, they both smiled at Ben and greeted him with a reverential ‘Good day to you, Vicar’. Taken aback for an instant, Ben managed to mumble a reply that seemed to please the old folks before they hobbled on.
‘Sure fooled them,’ Roberta said drily. After a pause she added, ‘So if you’re not an ordained minister—’
‘I’m not.’
‘—isn’t it against their rules to wear that outfit? Kind of like impersonating an officer or something?’
‘It was only meant to be … oh, never mind. Just don’t look at me.’
‘That’s hard to do. You have no idea how weird it is for me to see you dressed like that.’
‘That makes two of us,’ Ben replied. ‘But it’s a sight we may all have to get used to.’
‘You’re