The Glass Box by Karl Hill

Author:Karl Hill [Hill, Karl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books

33

The plan was to drive back to the car park, disembark, then each go their separate ways. A journey of just over two miles. Jacob did not predict any issues. The chance of other traffic on the road at that time was slim. Even if they did pass a car, big deal. By the time anyone noticed the fire they’d be long gone, melted away into the predawn darkness, by which time the hotel would be burnt and broken. Halliday, the consummate professional, kept his speed low. Not too low. A steady thirty-five mph. Docherty, sitting in the back, kept his ear to the police radio. All was quiet. Jacob sat back, relaxed. His mind was already running through future events, to plan, to coordinate. One event in particular.

The Glass Box.

In one week, twenty-five members of a rather elite club would congregate in the baronial hall of Chadwick Purkis’s castle, each having deposited their three million entrance fee, and after partaking in expensive champagne served in fluted crystal glasses, they would be escorted to the lower section. The basement. Or the dungeon, as it was known. And then to the games, and the Glass Box.

The invitations had already been sent. Not by email. By couriered delivery. An invitation on Medioevale ivory paper, handmade, imported from Italy. Gilt-edged. To all sections of the world. Russia, Australia, USA, Britain, Europe. Written by Purkis himself using a fountain pen, the nib fashioned from rhodium-plated 18-carat gold. Jacob allowed a wry smile. How his employer loved the theatrical. The drama. But the admin side was less glamorous. Jacob arranged flights, accommodation, drinks, food. Plus, he located and brought those suitable enough to perform in the spectacle. But then he possessed a flair for organisation. Planning…

Jacob was startled from his thoughts. An image flashed in the glare of the headlights. A figure. A sudden glimpse of a face, white and stark, frozen in shock. Halliday, usually so calm, swore under his breath. The car swerved, hit something, jolted to a stop in the middle of the road.

Docherty lurched forward, the radio tumbling from his grasp.

“What the fuck!”

Halliday remained still, both hands on the wheel. Jacob took a second to collect his thoughts.

“What just happened?”

Halliday took a deep breath. “Shit just happened.”

He pulled onto the side verge, killed the lights, got a torch from the glove compartment. There were no street lights. They were still on the periphery of wilderness. They got out. Darkness pressed in around them. Only yards away, the thick bristle of shadow which was the Cairngorm forest. Halliday flashed the torch to the other side of the road.

There! A figure lying still in the long grass, face down. The three men approached. In the full glare of the torch beam, details were clear. A runner. Jogging trousers, sports top, left arm twisted at an ugly angle. Dark hair, one side matted with blood.

“Why the fuck would someone be running at this time?” muttered Docherty.

Jacob shot him a burning glare. “That’s hardly relevant.”

“What now?” said Halliday.

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