The Touch of Death by John Creasey Page A

for the night. There was a murmuring, as of the water of the lake against the shore; and the soft humming of insects.
    Rita was holding his arm tightly.
    â€œNeil, you’re wrong, hopelessly wrong. It isn’t ugly, it isn’t madness. If you could see real beauty—”
    â€œYou’re playing on words, twisting them, trying the old, old game – making the lie so big that it ought to convince. It doesn’t convince me. I can see your beauty, and I tell you that it’s as ugly as sin. I ought to—”
    â€œOught what?”
    â€œI ought to kill you,” he said harshly. “Then they couldn’t use you any more.”’
    â€œNeil, listen to me.” They faced each other, and she took his hands, and he noticed that hers were warm. The light from the house shone upon her eyes; he could see every delicate line of her face and the seductive beauty of her mouth, the white gleam of her teeth as her lips moved. “Come and see for yourself what we’re doing.”
    â€œI’m fond of life,” he said.
    There was a moment of silence. Then: “It’s the only way to save your life,” she said quietly. “You can’t escape for ever. They’ve tried five times to kill you, and—”
    â€œSix,” he sneered.
    Her eyes filled with annoyance; anger.
    â€œWhy are you tormenting yourself? It’s the only way to save your life. They tried five times and failed, and I persuaded them to let me try to convert you. Come with me. If you should want to come back, we’ll let you.”
    â€œWho says so?”
    â€œI do.””And who can forbid it?”
    She didn’t answer.
    â€œYou see,” Banister said roughly, “you can promise me freedom but can’t guarantee that I’ll get it. What’s the real truth?” He found himself gripping her arm, very tightly; shaking her. “Come on, tell me – what’s the real truth? You say you hope that I’ll be converted, you think that if I can be fooled into coming with you, I might even believe the hideous nonsense you talk. You think that once I’m with you I won’t want to come back here. Isn’t that it?” He shook her again; but he kept his voice low. “ Isn’t that it? ”
    â€œI think they’ll let you come away. I think they’ll want someone to tell Palfrey and everyone else what we’re doing. You can be the messenger, if you want to be. I don’t need to lie to you.”
    â€œYou’re lying now.”
    â€œI’m not!” She almost spat. “Why can’t you see that I’m trying to save you? If you won’t come, they’ll kill you. Or they’ll kill others, and you’ll feel that even more. They’ll force you into going with me, because they—they want you.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” he said savagely. “They want me, so you pretend to be in love with me, try to bribe me into going by promising me yourself!”
    â€œNeil—”
    â€œI ought to hate the sight of you, I ought to cringe at the touch of you,” Banister growled. He caught his breath, then crushed her to him, kissed her, felt the hard pressure of her teeth against his lips, then against his teeth. The seductive warmth of her softness pillowed his breast. She affected him like a drug.
    Then he saw a flash, like lightning over the lake.
    Another flash came.
    He felt Rita wrench herself free as a scream shivered on the air, touching the night with horror. He saw Rita racing towards the ballroom. He saw men and women cringing back, staring at something in the middle of the room. He heard a yapping sound, a dog barking. He raced after Rita, and saw what she could see – two girls and a man lying on the floor, stretched out – and the dog, a terrier, yapping at the others, forcing them back.
    He heard Rita say gaspingly: “He’ll kill them all, he’ll kill them