It had always been about him.
If still alive, the entire edifice of The Royal Family would come crashing down around them.
Apparently he and Ben were the only ones who believed Billy to be dead.
Simon Raiden andthe familydid not.
***
Chapter Forty-three
There were two boats already tied to the dock.
Raiden had, apparently, been right.
They didn’t see them until they were right into the little harbour, as it was full dark and they were motoring without lights. Billy’s little blue wayfarer was holed and listing and being driven helplessly onto the rocks. It looked as if a stake had been driven through its heart. But it had not been there earlier that day when they had checked the island out.
Billynomates goes where he pleases.
Billy was still alive—or had been when he’d sailed into the harbour.
The second boat was tied to a bollard.
They regarded it for a moment and then Ben untied it and kicked it off with his foot. It was a fairly meaningless gesture, as the rock was not a true island, and anyone could walk off it at low tide, but, nevertheless, they both watched Raiden’s transport disappearing into the darkness with a genuine sense of satisfaction.
Ben then caught him gently around the neck and said against his ear, ‘I’m so sorry.’
Aleksey knew. With Billy found, Simon had no reason to keep Harry alive. They held their foreheads together for a moment, and it seemed to Aleksey that it was more in preparation for something to come than reassurance or affection. They were united. Whatever he did, Ben was on his side.
He freed himself from the encumbrance of his thick cashmere overcoat—someone needed its warmth more than he did, and began to wrap the little dog. But as soon as Snodgrass was released from the possessive hold, he leapt for the rock, paused for a moment, and then shot off in the direction of the granite building. As his companion had asserted, he had a stout heart.
It took one of those to go forwards into the shadow of the asylum.
Ben also seemed pensive about this return at night. He was staring up at the dark structure with a frown of concentration. Aleksey nudged him and they made their way towards its menacing presence.
Almost immediately they saw the body lying at the top of the steps leading down to the utility cellar.
Snodgrass had found it first and was whimpering softly and licking its face.
Ben put a hand on his back as they approached, but then, his eyes younger and better, he began to run. He reached the figure and flung himself to the ground, ripping off his coat, which he put gently under its head.
When Aleksey arrived, he saw a leg feebly twitching with a faint thread of life which still remained. The old man’s eyes were making rapid movements beneath the lids and his breath was laboured.
Aleksey felt it cruel for him to return to consciousness in some ways. Harry’s arm had been laid across the bottom rail of the old wrought iron fence around the steps and then apparently stomped on. It was a savage injury for anyone, let alone a man of his age. And Aleksey knew he was entirely responsible for this. Being a new man was hard most of the time and took his utmost concentration not to revert to what he had once been. Not because he particularly enjoyed the murder and mayhem of his old life, but because he had then been able to rationalise away the pain and hurt he had caused so it didn’t affect him. He could not now, and it heaped upon him like a physical burden making breathing hard.
Ben gently moved the smashed arm to the old man’s side, and this brought him back to consciousness.
But when he opened his eyes, his first sight was of a small whiskery snout and his first sensation not one of pain but of a rough, thorough tongue bath. His face was suddenly wreathed in smiles, and he actually chuckled as the little dog wriggled in delight against him. He could not sit unaided, so they propped him up, Snodgrass then climbing into his lap.
‘He has been trying to find this little lighthouse keeper of yours.’
Aleksey could only nod. He could not take his eyes off the arm.
‘He hasn’t been able to flush him out, and it’s rather annoyed him. He seems to be under some kind of time imperative, which he is failing, and I do not believe him to be entirely rational.’ He smiled softly at the little dog and added, ‘You only gave him a tiny nip, didn’t you, my precious lad?’
Aleksey steadied his voice. ‘If he finds Billy he will kill him.’
‘Yes, that was my impression as well.’ His voice was weak now. Ben was crouching, holding him up. Harry’s face was extremely pale and sweat had broken out on his brow. Aleksey knew something about pain, had seen it and suffered it. He knew stoical when he saw it too—prided himself on being so when it counted, but he could read between the lines of this injury. If he was to survive, Harry needed medical help, and he needed it urgently.
