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Chapters (45)
  1. The Man With No Face
  2. Also by
  3. Title
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Contents
  8. INTRODUCTION
  9. CHAPTER ONE
  10. CHAPTER TWO
  11. CHAPTER THREE
  12. CHAPTER FOUR
  13. CHAPTER FIVE
  14. CHAPTER SIX
  15. CHAPTER SEVEN
  16. CHAPTER EIGHT
  17. CHAPTER NINE
  18. CHAPTER TEN
  19. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  20. CHAPTER TWELVE
  21. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  23. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  25. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  26. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  27. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Bannerman stood a moment longer before going out into the hall. There were footsteps on the stairs and he looked up to see Arthur coming down with a shotgun clutched tightly across his chest. He stopped when he saw that Bannerman had seen him. There was madness in his eyes.

‘You killed him.’ His voice was taut and brittle. ‘Even if you didn’t pull the trigger you killed him.’ He was fighting for control over some inner demon. ‘I loved that old man. I really loved him. I’ll kill you for it.’ He raised the shotgun.

‘Then you would be denying him his sacrifice,’ Bannerman said. His voice sounded abnormally calm, in spite of the fear he felt crawling across his skin. ‘He made a mistake. And he has taken the only honourable way out. Just as he had men killed to save his party, so he has killed himself in his final sacrifice. His own words.’

The seconds seemed to drag on for ever. The man with the white hair stood tense, the gun still raised.

‘You’d better call the police,’ Bannerman said. It was now or never. He turned his back slowly and walked towards the door, all the time waiting for the blast of the shotgun. His hand trembled on the cold metal handle.

And then it was over. He was outside, with the cold wind in his face and the door shut behind him. He let out a long breath and stood for a moment watching the trees swaying in the gloom. His feet crunched on the gravel as he walked to the car.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Bannerman stood under a pool of lamplight on Platform Two. Preston train station was almost deserted. One or two shadowy figures stood further along, staring out across the tracks. The sense of loneliness bearing down on him was crushing. Beyond the lights of the nine platforms, red and amber signal lights shone distantly in the darkness to the north, and to the west he saw a far-off twinkling of streetlamps. The world was shut up tight behind closed doors and drawn curtains, except for a few weary travellers and a handful of British Rail night workers.

From the south he heard the sound of the Glasgow train crossing the junction where the lines divided, rumbling past the blackened remains of industrial dereliction. The light from its windows came brightly out of the dark and the train ground to a clattering halt along the length of the platform. Doors opened as Bannerman stepped forward to climb up into the First Class corridor. He found an empty compartment and threw his things into the rack before slumping into a north-facing seat.