"Smith, Guy N - Blood Circuit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

PART ONE THE HAMMERTON CURSE

CHAPTER ONE




THE GIRL struggled, tried to fight off her rising panic as well as the man who held her, but he pulled her back. She swung wildly at him screaming her fear and frustration. 'Let go of me, Steve. I want to look.'

'No.' He spoke firmly, a silhouette against the starlight of a warm August night. 'That's one thing I'm not going to allow you to do.'

'But he might still be ... alive.' Her voice tailed off in a tremble of hopelessness. She knew there was no way her father could still live, in the same way that she had known that there could have been no hope for her brother, Justin, when she had seen the photographs in the papers of his mangled burned-out car on the Le Mans track less than a month ago. And now this!

Lee Hammerton did not try to break free now, just accepted the inevitable and stared into the night until she was able to make out the shape of the huge baler, a robot made by Man; stronger than Man. Ruthless if it got out of control, a hungry carnivorous beast if you under-estimated it, got in its way.

The machine was still running, a clanking monster that seemed to be laughing in its own mechanical way, grinding its teeth. It had fed but still it was hungry.

'He might not ... be in there,' she said weakly.

The tall, fair-haired man sighed, wished that he could tell a convincing lie but it was pointless. The police and the

doctor would be here any minute and then every detail would have to be revealed. Nobody would be able to hide anything no matter how gruesome. Lee would have to face the truth then.

'He's in there.' Steve Kilby looked down at the girl: even in shocked terror she was beautiful, had a man wanting her no matter what. The long dark hair was tangled, her perfect features white and streaked with tears. Her bottom lip was bleeding where she had bitten it but you still wanted to kiss her, to hold her close, tell her that everything was going to be OK even though you knew it wasn't. You didn't give a damn whether or not Craig Hammerton had been baled into a pulped bloody square of flesh and bone or not, because his daughter still lived and that was all that mattered. You'd fake grief and make a good job of it for her sake.

'Clyde found him.' Kilby was afraid she might slip his hold and go and see for herself. There's no point in either of us looking. We'd better get back. There's nothing we can do.'

'No!' Defiant as always. Lee Hammerton's mind was made up. She was staying. A thought crossed her mind, one that had her stomach knotting and brought on a desire to be violently sick: I'm the boss now that Daddy's gone, and Justin, too. A millionairess. I give the orders, everybody else has to obey them. Kilby isn't just my lover nor my chief driver. He's my servant. Clyde, too.

'All right, we'll stay until the others get here.' Kilby tried to edge her a yard or so back but she held her ground.

'How could it have happened?' Suddenly she felt calmer, more logical. 'Daddy wasn't driving the baler. He wouldn't want to, anyway.'

'I don't know, but accidents happen when you least expect them.' It sounded trite but if anybody mentioned suicide then it had to be the police. 'I guess you father must have gone on a tour of inspection of his farms, maybe wondering how the harvest had gone, and he got curious and tinkered with the baler when there was nobody around.'

They fell into an uneasy silence. This was one night when they didn't want to be alone out here in the fields, a late summer night that no longer smelted of honeysuckle and wild flowers. Just death. A chill breeze had sprung up and Kilby felt his flesh goosepimpling. Maybe it had been just an accident; he couldn't think of any reason why Craig Hammerton would want to kill himself, not with all his millions. He felt embarrassed, too, because he couldn't think of anything to say to Lee and maybe she was expecting him to say something. After all, he was her lover. Or was he? There were rumours, stories of other men in her life, that he'd shut his ears to. She was in the driving seat right now; she only had to snap her fingers and she could have what she wanted. John Clyde would write out the cheques and Lee Hammerton would sign them. She didn't need money, only what it bought.

The baler shuddered suddenly and cut out. A faint whirring noise, a propeller gradually losing its momentum. Then silence. She clung to him tightly so that he could feel her breasts heaving, small firm mounds of flesh that he had once fondled and kissed. Hallowed Hammerton breasts that money couldn't buy.

'It's . . . it's the . . . the curse again, isn't it, Steve? The Hammerton Curse!' Her voice was a cracked whisper that he scarcely recognised.