nded heavily on empty space。 They rose together； but Halloran was faster。 His toecap smashed into Monk's groin。 The bodyguard collapsed to his knees again and Halloran moved behind him。 Again Halloran pulled Monk back by his long hair； holding him upright。 Lightning flared outside； freezing their bodies momentarily。 The operative's other fist clenched； middle knuckle raised slightly。 His aim was straight and powerful as the fist cracked into a certain vertebra at the back of the kneeling man's neck。
Thunder drowned the cracking of bone。
Halloran reached out to a bedpost for support as the stiffened figure below him swayed； then slumped to the floor。 He drew in deep lungfuls of incense…filled air； anger still raging inside； revulsion at Kline and the corruption around him heaving at his stomach。
In that distraction …his rage； his disgust…he failed to notice the figure that had watched everything from behind the door。 He heard； or perhaps he sensed； a footstep though； but it was too late。
As he began to turn； Janusz Palusinski brought a short； metal bar down against his temple。 The oblivion was almost a relief。
41 THINGS FROM THE LAKE
They could hardly believe the power of the rain。
It pounded； weighing heavily on their shoulders and backs； making progress slippery and slow。 At least the downpour rendered them less visible； their mander thought as he urged them along。
'What the hell is this； Danny？' McGuire yelled close to his ear。 'I've never known the likes！' A truer word never spoken。 The man called Danny looked out at the lake and shivered； not from the cold。 The water was as fierce as St George's Channel in the worst winter months a crossing he had made with loathing many times in the past。 God in Heaven； it was eerie what was happening out there。
From the bank they had watched lightning strike the water more than once； sheening its tossed surface a silvery green； the froth on the shoreline luminous in the dark。 The thunderclaps that followed had made their ears ring； caused them to throw themselves against the soaked earth as if mortar shells had dropped among them。 His men were frightened； wanted to turn back。 But that was not to be and greater fear of their mander held them steady； kept them mindful of their duty。
They had been caught by the downpour on a steep embankment； the drenched soil slithery beneath their feet； the only handholds a few tree roots here and there。 Two of the men walked along in the water itself； arms stretched out to the bank for support when the going got particularly tricky。 Danny cursed the freak storm； wondering at it at the same time。
They had e this far and there was no turning back。 Their man； their bastard target； was in the grand manor house they had glimpsed from afar； now but a few minutes away； and he was going to pay dearly for what he'd done。 He was going to suffer for the suffering he had caused others。 No doubting that； no turning tail now。
An alarmed shout from nearby。 One of his men was sliding deeper into the churning water； his Armalite raised high。 His panion； who had been wading behind； reaching out to pull him up。
A jagged lightning streak pierced the lake； a startling irradiation instantly spreading outwards。 The crack of thunder overhead cowed the group； and in the white glare the leader saw the terrified expression of the two in the water； as if they had both received a shock。
They began to go under。
He slid down the embankment； shouting to the others to help their panions。 But when he reached the edge of the water； his boots enveloped； anorak smeared by mud； he stared in horror across the lake。
There were shapes out there。
Canescent； hazy； almost lost in the sheeting rain； but nevertheless； discernible rearing shapes that were part of the storm itself。
It was impossible。 He wiped wetness from his eyes； disbelieving what he saw。 But they were there； growing like grey amorphous monsters out of the waves。
Something bumped into him and he turned with a start。 McGuire…he thought it was McGuire in the dismal light…was also watching the lake； his mouth working loosely as though he had lost the power of speech。
A scream and they saw their two panions were in the water up to their shoulders。
'Help them！' Danny yelled； scrabbling forward。 He noticed that the Armalite was gone and swore at the frightened subordinate who had dropped it。 Another of his men was closer and was leaning over； stretching an arm out to the two in the water。
But everyone stopped when whiteness flooded the sky and another discharge channelled itself to the lake； the shifted air booming。 It was what they suddenly saw beneath the surface that had frozen them。
Vague； nebulous forms filled the water below； massing together； squirming spasmodically； tendril…like appendages waving in the currents； occupying the lake as though the content was not water but moving； liquid beings。
A waterspout erupted then swooped down； like a tentacle； curling round the two men who clawed at the bank。 It drew them into the lake and their screams became a bubbling froth。 It seemed； although it was too dark to be certain； that other smaller tendrils of fluid pulled at them too。
The leader shuddered incredulously； then gasped when something tightened around his own ankle。 With a frightened cry； he jerked his leg clear； and perhaps it was merely overwrought imagination that caused him to think a watery claw had risen with his leg to plop shapeless back into the choppy lake。
The two men were gone； he knew that。 There was no helping them at all。 He scrambled up the embankment； digging toes and hands into the slimy soil； afraid he would slide back into the water to lie among those things stirring there。 His two remaining men were following suit； scrambling away from the foamy lake where waterspouts resembling misshapen creatures burst upwards into the stormy night。
Waves hurled themselves at the climbing men as if to drag them back； but they plunged their fingers into the mud； using tree roots whenever their fumbling hands chanced upon them； grateful for every inch they could gain。
They collapsed on the grass at the top of the embankment； rolling over and over into the bushes； putting as much distance between themselves and the water's edge as possible。 At last they settled among the trees； trembling and panting； the rain's force tempered by the leafy canopy above them。
'For God's sake； let's away from here！' Danny recognised McGuire's voice； distorted by terror though it was。
'No；' he said； loud enough to be heard over the storm。 'Whatever it was back there can't harm us now。' He was shocked； stunned by what had happened and the loss of two good men。 But Danny Shay was a determined man。 An executioner who had already tortured and killed one person to locate his intended victim。
He rose and grabbed the shoulders of his exhausted panions； hauling them to their feet。
'Get yourselves moving；' he told them。 'The house isn't far and there's a bastard there deservin' to die。'
42 SEPULCHRE
As in the dream； there were large； staring eyes watching him。 Unnatural eyes。 Stone eyes。
Halloran held his breath as pain ached through his head。 He raised a leaden hand to his forehead and held his temples； exerting soft pressure with fingers and thumb。 The ache eased only slightly。 He blinked； taking in the statues； a gathering of them； thirty at least； standing a few yards away。 Observing。 A few were in groups； man； woman and child。 Some were at least five foot high。 Their fixed gaze was inescapable。
Among them in a high…backed ornate chair was a figure； this of flesh and blood； for it shifted slightly when Halloran pushed himself up onto an elbow。 The figure settled back； a formless shadow amidst the sculptures。
The floor was wet where Halloran lay； grimy water seeping through the cracks in the flagstones。 The dampness brought with it a putrid smell； a different odour underlying that。 Melting wax。 The chamber was lit by hosts of black candles； their glow soft and unsteady。
'Help him to his knees；' a voice said。 It might have been Kline's except its