The farmer began to shake his head. The pistol barrel snagged his jowls and they bulged with each shake.
"Better start talking," Cole said.
"Who … who are you?"
"Army."
"That man … that woman …"
"That's none of your business. Now listen, old man, this is way beyond your understanding. Got that? This is nothing to do with you, but you've seen me, and you've seen everything, and I have to tell you my finger's about two pounds of pressure away from spreading your brains across the ground. Like that idea? You want me to air your head?"
"No … no. …" He shook his head again, fat jowls catching on the gun barrel, and Cole's anger started to dissipate. Later, he thought that the old man's obesity had saved him. He had actually looked funny down there, kneeling on the ground and shaking his head, blubbery cheeks going one way, neck wobbling the other. If he had not made Cole smile, unintentional though it was, he may well have never milked his cows again.
"You love the queen?" Cole said. He almost smiled again, but then the thought of Natasha rooting in his mind came back to him, the sense of her intruding there, doing her own secret things down in the underground of his subconscious, and he thought maybe he'd never smile again. "You love your country, old man?"
The farmer nodded, eyes never leaving Cole's. I wonder what he sees there, Cole thought. I wonder if he thinks I'm mad? He has no idea …
"I need a car," Cole said. "That man you saw has taken something from Porton Down, and I have to recover it. And thanks to you, my Jeep's fucked."
"Dear God, am I infected, is that it?" the farmer asked. "Please, not me, not my children."
"You know of the place, then?"
The farmer nodded.
Cole leaned back and took the gun from beneath the farmer's jaws. Perhaps threat was no longer the way. "No, you're not infected," he said. "But that man had something in his car, something deadly, and he doesn't even know he's got it." And if he did, would it make any difference? If he knew what Natasha could be, would it change anything that had happened? Probably not. People like that were selfish. Never saw the big picture. Didn't understand the implications of what they were doing, and why. That was why Cole was here with his gun. His gun was one of the implications. If only he could get close enough to put a bullet into that shriveled monster's head.
"And they've sent you to catch him?"
"Something like that," Cole said. The idea had crossed his mind of telling the relevant authorities about what had happened, but it fled just as quickly. Not now. Not after last time. They had made it quite plain that they didn't give a shit for what they had done with the berserkers. It was down to Cole, and really it always had been.
"Are you a special agent?"
"What, like James Bond?"
The farmer smiled, but it dropped quickly at Cole's cool expression.
"I need a vehicle," Cole said. "As you so kindly wrecked mine, perhaps you'd be able to lend me one?"
The farmer nodded. "My farm's a mile away," he said. "I have a car, you can borrow it but will I get a receipt?"
Cole brandished the gun again casually, and the farmer nodded, his eyes wide and amazed.
"You'll get your car back," Cole lied.
The farmer stood and brushed himself down, and Cole urged him to walk on ahead. He was no threat—the shambling old man probably couldn't even raise his dick, let alone a fist—but Cole wanted him in front simply so that they did not have to talk.
He had some thinking to do. And while he was thinking he had to do something that made his skin crawl, his balls shrivel and his scalp tighten: he had to open his mind.
Cole taunted Natasha, and very soon she answered back.
Fucker … useless… , think you can get me? Piece of shit … worm … fuck you, Misterwolf …
The words flew in from a distance, vague and almost unheard. Cole could barely feel Natasha's slick, sick intrusion. They were more like echoes. She must have been a long way away.
"I'm not finished yet," he mumbled, shouting it with his mind, but he did not think she heard.
"What?" the farmer said.
"Not talking to you."
"You talking to HQ, eh?"
"Just keep walking." Holy shit, he thinks he's in a fucking movie!
It was dawn now, and the sun was smearing the eastern hills with a palette of oranges and pinks. Cole loved to watch the sunrise, welcoming in the new day and wondering how different it would be. Each day offered renewed possibilities and a refreshed chance at life, and even in his darkest moments a spectacular sunrise would not help but touch him.
I wonder if Nathan's been found yet, he wondered, and a flock of rooks passed across the sunrise. Cole closed his eyes briefly and imagined he were one of them. He envied the animals their simplicity of life. Their main purpose was to survive and procreate; his own purpose was borne out of revenge. A particularly human trait, revenge. It served no aim. It was like a fox coming after the hounds. He had lost his own meaning in the world.
Cole opened his eyes and brought himself back to the here and now. Back to the unnatural.
His objective was now divided. On the one hand, he could not let Natasha reach the other berserkers. He had gathered evidence over the years that she was different somehow, altered, experimented upon by Porton Down and … improved. That was the one word the scientist had used before Cole shot her. Improved. He had no idea what they had done to her, but he did know one thing for sure; it would have only been to make her more deadly. And once reunited with the others, she could well become too powerful for him to take on his own.
On the other hand, finding the escapees had, until today, been his prime concern. What he would do then he had not even considered, because the prospects were too terrifying. Call in the army, perhaps. Give them the opportunity on a plate to clean up an old mess.
Or maybe after so long, he would go it alone.
The escapees had been silent for ten years. Cole scanned the news every day, always looking for signs that they had been active, but there was nothing obvious. Murder, death, missing people, all these happened, but not in any great numbers in any one place. Not in Britain, at least. If the monsters had gone abroad … well, he would know soon enough. If Natasha looked to be making for the ports or an airport, this would be a whole new game.
Either way, he had some fucking vampires to hunt and kill.
Even though they cut across fields it was more than a mile. It took almost half an hour for the farmer to lead Cole to his farm, and ten times in the last ten minutes of their walk Cole daydreamed about putting a bullet in the fat man's arse. Roberts and Natasha were getting farther and farther away, and every minute wasted meant that finding them again would be harder. Cole listened for Natasha, inviting her in, and her random words soon faded with distance into mumbles, and then whispers, and after that he was uncertain that he heard anything at all. His subconscious told him that she was still touching him, her words so quiet now that they were shadows rather than voice, and he was sure that she was still there. Raving. Gloating. And luring him on …
Luring him on, because that was the only way she would ever find the others.
"That's it!" Cole said as they entered the farmer's yard. A fat woman stood at the doorway to a rundown house, and a tall youth emerged from one of the sheds, both of them staring at the farmer and seeing the fear in his eyes.
"Yes, that's it," the farmer said, pointing to the BMW. "I'll get the keys. Er … you want me to get the keys?" He stood there in the cow shit and awaited Cole's permission to leave.