Silence for the Dead(105)

But he shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Nurse Weekes. But it isn’t over, not yet. I never got my Luger. He always had it. You told me he had it, but I didn’t believe you.”

My stomach sunk, hard. “If you’re saying Jack Yates just shot Roger, then I’m calling you a liar.”

“Not Yates,” said Creeton. “Mabry. He’s the one who took the gun from the safe. He’s the sacrifice. And he never even needed me. He’s gone to do it himself.”

Mabry. Mabry, who had seemed so ill, who had stared at the slip of cloth that held the combination to the safe with such fascination. And then I remembered that Roger had never said a name. He shot me. “You’re saying—”

“He doesn’t have to take just one of us,” Creeton said. “That’s his power. He can be inside all of us. In our dreams, in our waking nightmares. In this whole house. He can be in more than one mind at the same time.”

I looked to the other end of the ballroom, where a large set of double doors opened onto a corridor. The corridor to the library, where men might retreat from a crowded party to smoke or play cards.

“Yes,” Creeton said. “He’s gone that way.”

“You should have stopped him,” I said, accusing.

But Creeton shrugged. “I’m finished now,” was all he said. “I’m free.”

It was hard to run. I felt as if I’d been awake for years, as if I’d never rest again. But I left Creeton behind and I ran to the double doors, and down the corridor to the isolation room.

Nothing in there had changed: not the narrow bed, the cracked nightstand, the mildewed walls. Mikael’s message was still on the wall, staring down at me accusingly. At the other end of the room, the door to the outside had been opened. Jack stood silhouetted there, looking out into the rain.

“Jack,” I whispered, not wanting to surprise him.

He did not turn his head. Behind the doorframe, he lifted a hand briefly in acknowledgment. I approached him and looked over his shoulder.

Captain Mabry stood in the grass in front of the isolation room, swaying in the rain.

He had his back to us. He carried a handgun, his arm down at his side. It was a slender, alien-looking thing I had never seen before. The Luger. Mabry’s body leaned slightly to one side, and then to the other, as if he was not entirely in control, but otherwise he did not move. Rain sluiced unnoticed down his body, soaked his clothes. He was not looking at anything that I could see.

I looked at Jack. His profile was hard, his gaze unwavering. It was the same as on the day I’d stood in the clearing with Creeton. Too slow an approach, and it would all be over. The gun was lowered, but Mabry’s hand was confident on the grip. It would take only a second.

“Andrew,” Jack said, gently. I had never heard anyone use Mabry’s first name before. “You shot your bullet.”

“There were two,” Mabry replied, not turning. The rain carried part of his voice away. “There’s a second one in the chamber. You know that, Jack.”

“Don’t do this,” said Jack. “This isn’t you.”

For a second Mabry paused, and then his shoulders sagged. “Don’t worry. It will be a relief. It will.”

I opened my mouth, took in a breath, but Jack’s hand touched my arm. Wait. He pointed a finger to the ceiling, turned it in a circle. He meant someone was circling around to the other side of the clearing, probably Paulus. I nodded.

“Andrew,” Jack said. “Just listen to me.”

“I can’t,” Mabry said. “I can only hear him. Can’t you? You can’t help me, Jack. No one can. It’s over.”

Do you think you can help me? Creeton had said to me. With your caring? With your concern? You can’t help any of us.

Mabry raised his head, as if he heard something. And from the gloom Mikael appeared. He was shirtless, his naked torso impervious to the rain. He was walking slowly, the way he had been when I had last seen him in the stairwell, pulling one foot forward at a time. He was looking at Mabry, coming toward him, the cold coming off him so powerfully I could feel it from where I stood.

Mabry pivoted on his heels and faced Mikael. “What do you want?” he cried. “For God’s sake, what do you want?”

Mikael stopped, held out one hand.

A sob came from Mabry’s throat. “I can’t help you. I can’t. I can’t even help myself.”

I heard an intake of breath, and I turned to see Anna standing beside me. She was looking at Mikael, and her expression was cracked to pieces with grief and love for the brother she had suffered with, the brother she had been unable to save. In one hand, she held a rifle.

“Mikael,” she whispered.

Jack turned his head, took her in, his thinking clear in his handsome blue eyes. I wondered whether he recognized her from the time we’d seen her in the clearing.

“Anna Gersbach,” I said softly.

He nodded, as if the reappearance of Anna were just another piece of information. His silent gaze went to her rifle.

Anna held the rifle out to him. “Take it.” She looked at me. “It was in my father’s rifle cabinet. In the gallery with our other things. The orderly had the key.” She turned back to Jack. “It’s me my father wants. It’s me who can end this. It always has been.”