He had a sudden horrible image of blood congealing in a bowl and snapped his eyes open. The room was full of people. They were wearing primitive robes and had dark watchful faces. Some carried glinting knives. He shrank away from them and as he felt the stones press into his back he realised that it was an illusion and he was merely seeing shapes in the black walls of the chamber. He felt desperately tired and light-headed and wanted more than anything else to get back out into the fresh air, but he couldn’t face stepping into that square of harsh white light. The very thought gave him a headache.

There were four other exits leading to a corridor that ran around the outside of the chamber, and a staircase spiralled up to the next floor. He climbed up it and found three smaller rooms. Then he carried on up to what was now the top of the tower and stepped, blinking, into the light.

A vulture hung in the air overhead, the feathers in its wingtips like long black fingers against the sky. James watched as it wheeled and glided away towards the dusty blue hills at the horizon.

He took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. The air burnt his lungs and he still felt woozy.

He heard footsteps and walked to the edge to look down. Fifty feet below was the courtyard with the well and James had the weird sensation that he was staring into a bottomless black hole. He felt out of control, as if the floor might crumble beneath his feet, and he had a terrible urge to throw himself off. He fought it and swayed giddily, spots dancing before his eyes. His vision blurred and swam and there was a singing in his ears.

He thought he might faint and for a moment didn’t know where he was.

The feeling slowly passed, and, as his vision slid back into focus, he realised he was looking down at someone. They were staring back at him with red, angry, bloodshot eyes, a look of intense disgust on their features.

James thought he must be imagining it. It was another illusion.

The face belonged to Cooper-ffrench; the purple complexion and mean little moustache were unmistakable. But it couldn’t be…

It wasn’t possible that he was here.

James felt hypnotised by the man, as if he was willing him to jump. He felt like he was going to vomit and he staggered forward until he was right at the edge of the tower. The singing in his ears rose in pitch, up and up and up…

He closed his eyes and sensed a movement behind him, something rushing towards him.

Cooper-ffrench called out his name and the sound seemed to pop and spin off into space with a noise like a firework.

James tipped forward.

And he was falling, down, down, down into that black abyss…

8

Escape

James woke to find the sun in his eyes and Peter Haight wiping his face with a damp handkerchief, a concerned look on his face.