Killer

Behind her, the dwarf Job’s voice began to whisper. She strained to hear. “I heard a voice from Heaven, saying unto me, ‘From henceforth write blessed are the dead which die in the Lord: even so saith the Spirit; for they rest from their labours!’ ” There were elements in his accent she could not place. He spoke with fervour and absolute belief. The words sounded like a piece out of the Bible, but not like a prayer. She wondered why he had said them, and a tickle of fear ran in her as the big 747 banked away over Washington.

Kate opened the well-thumbed book and began to re-read her father’s lucid descriptions of what happens to single-cell plants under Arctic ice. As always, she become engrossed in it quickly, and time ceased to exist until suddenly some corner of her mind alerted her to the quiet conversation behind her.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? You’re not too rusty?”

“Job, Job. If I didn’t think I was ready I wouldn’t have taken it.”

“Yes, but to be out there again . . .”

“It won’t be that bad. It’s only for a while. A few weeks. I’m letting myself in easy. There’ll be no mistakes this time. And even if there are, no one will . . .”

“Die,” said Job. “This time no one will die.”

“Not so loud for heaven’s sake,” hissed the giant. “No need for the whole world to know.”

“Need for one or two to know,” said Job. “Does Warren know?”

Kate’s heart gave a terrible lurch at the sound of her father’s name. She felt sick.

Job repeated, “Does Warren know?”

“Warren knows,” said the giant.

“About all of them?”

“He’ll have been given a full report.”

“Perhaps,” said Job. “And what if he’s passed it around?”

“I can take care of it. I can take care of Warren, and whoever else knows.”

They lapsed into silence. The stewardess came by and they ordered drinks. Kate listened avidly, but they didn’t mention her father’s name again.

After a while she wiped her palms on her skirt and they stayed dry. Her heart stopped thumping. Her breathing returned to normal.

Nobody got on at Chicago, and as they rose above the Windy City, everyone seemed to settle back at once for the long night flight to Anchorage. There was a movie, but Kate didn’t watch it. Her mind was a confusion of thoughts, emotions and fears. What would her father say? Would he send her back? Where was his camp? Who else would be there? What were the two men behind her talking about? Who had died? What did the giant want with her father? Her hopes and fears went round and round until they became soporific. Just before she fell asleep, she heard the voice of the dwarf Job as he composed himself for sleep. He said:

“God be in my head And in my understanding;

God be in my eyes And in my looking;

God be in my mouth And in my speaking;

God be in my heart And in my thinking;

God be at mine end And at my departing.”

And the cabin lights went dim, as though God had heard that the strange little man was ready for sleep, and had acted accordingly. The dusk quietened voices; the other passengers set their seats far back, took blankets from the stewardesses, and allowed the blue gloom to wash over them like a drug. The whine of the engines grew a little louder, reassuring, battling gravity on their behalf.

Over in one corner, lights burned over a table where four figures sat hunched over the sounds of plastic-coated playing cards, the rustle of paper money, the tinkle of glasses and ice; while above them rose the blue-grey haze of cigarette smoke, and a fund of dirty stories which had all of the neighbouring passengers turning their heads, half of them forward to hear more, the rest away, in case they heard too much . . .

“GET UP YOU SON OF A BITCH. GET UP AND WALK OR I’LL LEAVE YOU HERE, I SWEAR I WILL . . .”

Kate sprung awake. It was the giant’s voice, hoarse with emotion. “UP YOU LAZY BLEEDER, UP. YOUR EYEBALLS’LL BE AS HARD AS MARBLES . . .”

Suddenly, horribly, he reared out of his seat, and began to walk down the plane. He walked all hunched over, his right shoulder high, his right arm half curled over his closed eyes; his massive body straining as though fighting a terrible wind. He went to his knees, and the whole aircraft seemed to shake.

The four men at the card table watched, horrified, silent; the stewardess ran for a steward. Then the dwarf was beside him, whispering urgently, “Ross. Ross. It’s all right. You’re out now. It’s all right. Ross, wake up.”

The giant’s head came up, and his huge body relaxed. “Oh hell,” he said.

“You had a dream, Colin,” said Job.

“God,” said the giant, “but my hand hurts, Job, my left . . .”

“Of course it does,” said Job soothingly. He took Ross by his stiff arm and lifted him awkwardly to his feet. He led the giant back towards his seat. The steward and the stewardess came in at a run; they both came over.

“You all right?” asked the steward, suspiciously.