Rex closes his eyes at once and pretends to be unconscious. He listens to his son talk in a subdued voice.
‘I have nothing to do with this … I’m sure you already realised that. I wouldn’t even be here if my dad hadn’t been trying to stop me from seeing my boyfriend.’
‘You’re gay?’ James asks curiously.
‘Don’t tell Dad,’ Sammy jokes.
‘What’s so great about guys, then?’
‘I’ve been out with girls too, but the sex is better with guys.’
‘In my day,’ James says, ‘I could never have said that. So many things have changed, in a good way.’
With ice-cold fingers Rex tries to loosen the tightly knotted strips of cloth.
‘I’m not ashamed of who I am,’ Sammy replies.
‘Do you go out with older men?’ James asks in an odd tone of voice.
‘What turns me on are individuals, situations. I don’t have a big set of rules,’ Sammy says calmly.
Rex lies still and hears James walk across the floor. He opens his eyes cautiously and sees James standing in front of Sammy. He’s holding the rifle loosely in one hand, its barrel pointing down beside his leg. The overpriced bottles of water and wine that the hotel offers its guests are standing on the coffee table.
James turns around and Rex quickly closes his eyes and tries to make his body limp. James comes over and stops in front of him. The smell of metal tells him that the rifle is pointing at his face.
‘Most people I know call themselves pan-sexual,’ Sammy goes on.
‘What’s that?’
‘When you think that personality, not gender, is the most important thing.’
‘That sounds sensible,’ James says, going back over to him. ‘I’m sorry Lawrence cut you. Does it hurt?’
‘A little …’
‘You’re going to have a scar on that pretty face of yours,’ he says with unexpected tenderness in his voice.
‘Damn,’ Sammy sighs.
‘You should probably put something over it to keep the edges closed,’ James goes on.
‘Dad has some plasters in his toiletry bag,’ Sammy suggests.
The room goes silent and Rex keeps his eyes closed. He’s almost certain that James is looking at him.
‘It’s over there, by the armchair,’ Sammy says.
Rex feels James take a step away from him and kick the bag across the floor, towards Sammy.
‘Thanks.’
Rex hears Sammy unzip the bag, followed by a rustling sound as he finds the plasters.
‘You should wash it first,’ James points out.
When he hears James pick the water bottle up off the table and unscrew the lid, Rex twists his arms and pulls as hard as he can until he frees one hand from the bindings. His cold fingers tingle and sting as the blood returns to them.
‘Sit still,’ James murmurs. ‘Lift your face up a little …’
‘Ow,’ Sammy whispers.
Rex opens his eyes and sees that James has put the rifle down on the floor and is bending over Sammy holding the water bottle and a bundle of paper napkins.
Very slowly, he gets to his feet. His legs are numb and feel like lumps of wood. One of the strips of cloth is dangling from the cuff of his shirt, but comes loose and falls to the floor, making a soft sound as it lands.
Rex stops and waits.
James hasn’t heard anything. He turns the water bottle upside down on the napkins and goes on bathing Sammy’s cheek.
Rex moves slowly over to the coffee table and picks up the wine bottle, taking care not to make a sound.
‘A bit more water,’ Sammy says. ‘Ow … ouch, that really …’
‘Almost done,’ James says, with an odd intensity in his voice.
Rex walks towards James but manages to step on the shirt that was in his suitcase. It’s still in plastic and rustles beneath his foot. He rushes forward, raising the wine bottle, and sees James drop the napkins and turn towards him just as he strikes. James raises his arm to defend himself, but the bottle hits him on his cheek and temple, so hard that the glass breaks. Green splinters and dark-red wine rain down on James and across the wall behind him.
James groans heavily and falls sideways. Sammy moves out of the way and Rex grabs the rifle and backs away. James slumps back against the wall, feels his temple and looks groggily up at Rex just as he steps forward and rams the butt of the rifle against the bridge of James’s nose, slamming his head back against the wall.
‘Come on,’ Rex says to Sammy. ‘We have to get out of here.’
They leave the room, close the door and hurry along the cold hallway towards the reception area.
‘Nice work, Dad,’ Sammy says with a smile.
‘You too,’ Rex says.
They can hear heavy thudding coming from somewhere, and Rex turns back, but the dimly lit hallway is empty and the door to his room closed. The barrel of the rifle scrapes the wall and Rex raises it slightly. At that precise moment he gets such a splitting headache that he has to stop.
‘What is it?’ Sammy whispers.
‘Nothing, just give me a second,’ Rex replies.
‘What are we going to do?’
‘We’re going to get away from here … Let me look at you,’ he says, and leads his son into the light. ‘You might end up with a scar …’
‘On my pretty face,’ Sammy jokes.
‘Yes.’
‘You should see yourself, Dad.’
Rex looks back at the hallway again, and now he sees that one of the doors they passed is ajar.
111
Rex and Sammy walk towards the lobby in silence. The thick carpet muffles their footsteps.
They emerge into the lobby. There’s no one there, but one of the computers is lying on the floor. The rain is still pounding furiously against the black windows. The gutters are overflowing, the water splashing down onto the terrace outside.
‘Ten little rabbits, all dressed in white,’ they suddenly hear a child say. ‘Tried to get to heaven on the end of a kite.’
Rex and Sammy turn around and see an old tape-player standing on a table.
‘Kite string got broken,’ the child’s voice continues. ‘Down they all fell. Instead of going to heaven, they all went to … ’
‘What’s going on?’ Sammy whispers.
Rex recognises the rhyme from the phone call he got at the restaurant. He walks over to the table and sees that there’s blood on the tape-player buttons.
‘Nine little rabbits, all dressed in white, tried to get to heaven on the end of a kite …’
‘Go to the front door,’ Rex says nervously.
‘Dad …’ Sammy says.
‘Walk down to the main road, then turn right and keep walking,’ Rex calls.
‘Dad!’
Rex turns and sees James Gyllenborg coming towards them quickly. He’s holding a hunting knife in his hand, his clothes are stained with wine, and he’s breathing through his mouth as if his nose is broken.
‘Eight little rabbits, all dressed in white,’ the voice on the tape drones on.
James looks at the knife in his hand, then marches towards Rex.
‘Just calm down, James!’ Rex says, raising the rifle.
James stops and spits some bloody saliva on the floor. Rex backs away and puts his finger on the trigger.
‘You’re an idiot,’ James snarls, holding the knife out in front of him.
There’s a crack as one of James’s legs snaps at the knee. Blood spurts onto the floor and he collapses. He arches his body back and shrieks with pain.
It takes Rex a few moments to understand what’s happening.
DJ is standing in the doorway leading to the spa area, a pistol fitted with a silencer in his hand.
He’s wearing a leather strap around his head, strung with rabbits’ ears.
Rex notices that his trousers are wet, right up to his thighs. He walks into the lobby, tosses a plastic-covered rope on the floor and tucks the pistol into a shoulder holster.
DJ stops, closes his eyes, then slaps himself on the cheek, across one of the rabbits’ ears.
James is screaming and trying to crawl back down the hallway.
DJ looks at him, then walks over to Rex and takes the rifle, removes the cartridges and puts it on the coffee table with the other guns.
‘Six little rabbits, all dressed in white, tried to get to heaven on the end of a kite,’ the child’s voice chants on the tape.
James is lying on the floor gasping. A pool of blood is spreading out around his shattered leg.