Sam: A Novel Of Suspense by Iain Rob Wright Page B

all honesty, he wasn’t
interested in Angela in that way, but meeting new people was a rarity in his
current line of work and the woman seemed like fun.  If she and the other guy
were asked to leave then the house and grounds would go back to being empty and
Mike’s job would get that little bit more boring.
    Graham
turned on the radio and started flicking through the stations.  After finding
nothing he liked, he gave up and rested back in his seat.  “Did Frank give us
anything to do?  I’m going crazy stuck in this bloody car.”
    Mike
exhaled and shook his head.  “Me too, but he just wants us to stay put.  I
think he wants us here as back-up.”
    Graham
scoffed.  “Back-up?  Against a weedy loser and a dyke ex-priest?”
    “Like
I said, Frank doesn’t trust them.  He’s worried about Sammie.”
    “Why? 
It ain’t his kid.  If I were that guy, I would get a job working for
some other rich idiot, rather than babysitting a drunk woman and her weirdo
kid.”
    “Don’t
talk about Sammie like that,” Mike admonished.  “Sammie will be our boss one
day.  He’s going to inherit all of his father’s power and influence.  Greatness
is that kid’s birth right.”
    Graham
waved a hand dismissively.  “Yeah, yeah, I know.  Until then, though, he’s
still just a weird little brat.”
    “Perhaps,
but there’re reasons for that, which is why Jessica has hired people to help.”
    “You
think they’ll figure out what’s wrong with the kid?”
    Mike
shrugged his shoulders.  “Who knows?  I doubt it.  I don’t think anyone will be
able to figure out what’s wrong with Sammie until it’s too late.”
    Before
Graham managed a reply, Angela rushed frantically out into the grounds.
    “Speak
of the devil,” said Mike, leaping from the car.  He hurried over and saw that
there was blood on the woman’s shirt.  “Are you okay?” he asked her.  “What on
Earth has happened?”
    Angela
looked down at herself and saw what he was referring to.  “I’m fine.  It’s
Sammie’s blood.”
    “Sammie’s?”
    “He’s
fine too,” Angela quickly assured him.  “He just had a little… accident ,
I guess you’d call it.  I just came out for some fresh air.  I’m feeling a bit
sick.”
    “Can
I get you anything?”
    Angela
shook her head but laughed glumly.  “You know what, I think it’s about time you
went and got me a change of clothes.”
    “Yeah,
no problem.  Graham and I would be glad to have something to do, anyway.  We’ll
get going right away.”
    Angela
reached into her pocket and pulled out some keys.  She handed them over.  “My
house keys.  There’s something else I need too.”
    Mike
nodded.  “Okay.”
    “In
my bedroom closet there’s an old black duffel bag.  I need it.”
    “Sure
thing,” said Mike.  “What’s in it?”
    Angela
shook her head wearily and seemed a little faint.  Her answer was blunt and
without humour: “My exorcism kit.”
    “Oh,”
said Mike, stepping to one side as the woman vomited on the driveway.

 
    CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Tim
prepared to run the blood test a third time, unsatisfied with the previous two
sets of results.  After extracting a sample of Sammie’s blood from his shirt,
Tim had run it through his portable analyser.  The results it gave him were
bizarre to say the least.
    According
to the printout, Sammie’s blood had no recognisable type.  In fact, the
analyser spat out nothing but errors.  It was as though Tim had loaded the
centrifuge with motor oil instead of blood.  It made no sense.  He was
considering running his own blood just to make sure the machine wasn’t faulty.
    “Where’s
Angela?” Frank asked, appearing in the corridor behind Tim.
    “She
went out to get some fresh air.  Not feeling too good after all the blood.”
    “About
that,” Frank said sternly.  “What the hell happened?”
    “Hell
if I know.  One minute the kid’s skin is like concrete and the next he’s
opening up like a