The room was solid and figures wafted before him, floating into focus then becoming vague again, blurred images. The room seemed smaller. Sounds buzzed in his ears, voices bursting forward then disappearing abruptly, replaced by others, as though a frequency dial was being aimlessly turned across the airwaves. He looked back at Edith and saw a black substance was seeping from her lips, dribbling down her chin and on to her chest. It could have been blood, yet he knew it wasn't. He reached out a hand to touch and there was nothing there, no black stickiness on his fingers, nothing on her chin. He withdrew his hand and the substance dribbled from her lips once more. Bishop looked up and the room seemed even smaller.

Schenkel fell from his chair and lay still on the rough boards and earth covering the cellar below. No one stepped forward to help him, for they had been warned not to interfere unless something drastic occurred. Enwright glanced at his companion but ignored him. Edith Metlock moaned aloud and something dark was expelled from her mouth like a billow of smoke. The voices inside Bishop's head were laughing now and he saw that the room was shrinking, the walls and ceiling reaching in towards him. He knew he would be crushed and he tried to rise from the chair. His body had become frozen solid and he could feel the frost heavy on his eyelids, sealing them tight. His hair prickled as each one became a brittle icicle. The walls were only feet away.

A cold hand touched his and somehow warmed it. Edith had reached out to him. His other hand was being held by someone else and, although his head was frozen tight, he knew it was Jacob Kulek who gripped him. The warmth returned to his body and he felt something falling away from him, something that had threatened to smother him. The walls and ceiling had vanished, but a swirling darkness filled his vision.

The sound came from Enwright, but it was not his voice, nor the voice of any living thing. It was a high squealing sound, a tortured wailing. The medium stood, his palms pressed against his temples, his head turning from side to side as though he were trying to shake something from it. His eyes looked wildly around until they came to rest on Bishop.

The after-image of those staring eyes stayed in Bishop's vision as the dim lights went out and everything succumbed to the crushing blackness.

27.

The hands closed around Bishop's throat and began to tighten. He could only see a black shape before him, but he knew it was the medium, Enwright, who was trying to choke the life from him. He gripped the man's wrists and pulled at them, his chin automatically tucking itself downwards, neck muscles taut, to resist the increasing pressure. Even as he struggled, Bishop was aware of the confusion around him, the shouts, the running feet, the sudden small flares as matches or lighters were lit, then the long torch beams cutting out bright sections in the night.

A dizziness made the scene even more chaotic and he knew he would soon begin to lose his senses if he did not break the choking grip, but no matter how hard he pulled at the wrists, the pressure still increased. He did the only thing possible. Releasing his own hold, he grabbed the medium's clothing and pulled the man towards him, pushing his heels hard into the boards beneath them. His chair leaned back at a precarious angle, then both men went toppling over, Bishop increasing the momentum with an added thrust of his heels. They landed heavily, Enwright's head smashing on to the boards with a loud crack, his body immediately becoming limp. Bishop had curved his back and hunched his shoulders so the impact had little effect on him. He pushed the sprawled body away and sat up, looking quickly around, then closing his eyes for a few seconds to help them adjust to the darkness more easily.

'Get those bloody searchlights on!' he heard someone shout and almost immediately a broad expanse of light lit up half the site.

'The other searchlight!' cried the same voice and Bishop could now see it was the army major who was shouting the commands. 'Get it bloodywell on!'

But something was happening at the vehicle on which the second searchlight was mounted. Bishop could just make out struggling figures and he flinched when a shot rang out. Other soldiers began to run towards the vehicle, their 7.62 mm self-loading rifles held across their chests, ready for use.

More movement before him caught his eye and he saw Edith Metlock was tossing her head from side to side, her hands waving in the air as though warding something off. The other medium, Schenkel, was now on his knees, body bent forward and hands covering his face.

'Chris, help me!'

Jessica was trying to pull a man away from her father, a man who wore the dark blue uniform of a policeman. The realization struck Bishop in a flash of new dread: the Dark had penetrated the minds of some of those meant to protect them. He staggered to his feet and ran towards Jessica, but another figure reached them first. The policeman was behind Kulek and was dragging him backwards, an arm locked around his throat, Jessica in front of both men trying to wrench the arm away. The other man came up behind the policeman and dug rigid thumbs into the flesh points just under the uniformed man's jawline, digging them in deeply with a screwing motion. The policeman screamed and was forced to release Kulek; as he turned, the second man brought the heel of his hand sharply up beneath the policeman's nose, snapping his head backwards. A swift chop at the exposed windpipe sent the policeman reeling to the ground where he lay squirming and gasping for breath.

By then, Bishop had reached them and he recognized the man who had saved Kulek as Peck's DI, Roper.

'Bleedin' wollies,' Roper said, barely giving the injured policeman a second glance.

Just then, Peck himself emerged from the general confusion. 'Are you okay, sir?' he asked, a hand reaching out to steady Jacob Kulek.

The blind man drew in deep breaths as Jessica held on to him. 'I'm . . . I'm learning how to resist such attacks,' he managed to say and Peck allowed a brief flicker of amusement to cross his face.

'We'd better get you out of here,' he said. 'It looks as if the power supply to half of London has been switched off. Anything can happen now.' He turned to Bishop. 'You all right? I saw that bastard ready to attack you just before the lights blew. Sorry I couldn't get to you in time.'

'I'm okay. How could the power fail?'

Peck shrugged. 'Overload, maybe.'

'Or sabotage.'

'For the moment, it doesn't matter. The main thing is to get you all somewhere safe.'

'Edith. Where is Edith?' Kulek was clutching at Jessica, frustrated by his own blindness.

'She's still in her chair, Father. She's in a trance state. I think she's trying to break free of it.'

'Quickly, take me to her before it's too late.'

'I think we ought to get away from here, sir,' Peck interjected.

'Edith first,' Kulek said firmly. 'We must take her with us.'

Jessica led him over to the agitated medium and Roper looked uneasily towards his superior.

'I don't like this, guv,' he said. 'We don't stand a chance if that searchlight fails.'

'Get over to the cars, Frank. I want all their lights on right away. Where's the bloody Commissioner? And the army major he should have had things organized by now.'

But more gunfire told him that organization under those circumstances would prove difficult, and when the shattering of glass preceded the extinction of the remaining light, leaving the site filled only with individual torch beams, they knew it would prove virtually impossible.

'The cars, Frank, quick. Get those lights on.' Someone bumped into Peck and he roughly pushed the figure away. He reached inside his jacket for the Smith and Wesson holstered discreetly at his hip and drew it.

'Bishop! Where are you?'

'Right here.' He had been following Kulek and Jessica before the remaining light had blown and now stood midway between them and Peck.

The detective cursed the lack of moonlight. What a bloody silly night to choose! 'Can you reach Kulek?' He had to shout to make himself heard over the general clamour.

'Yes, they're not far . . . Jesus!'

Peck made his way towards the dark shape a few feet away when he, too, felt the coldness stab inside him. It blanked out his thoughts for a few moments, a numbing iciness that seemed to fill every secret crevice of his mind. He stumbled against someone.

'Bishop? What is it? Can you feel it, too?'

'Don't give in to it, Peck. Force it out!'

'What is it?' Peck was shouting, his free hand against his eyes and forehead, the gun held away from him.

'It's the Dark. It's probing your mind. You can resist, Peck, but you've got to want to.' Bishop's mind was clearing fast after the first paralysing assault on it and he suddenly understood that the Dark could only claim those who allowed themselves to be claimed. The Dark had to be accepted before it could take, like the mythical vampire who could not cross a threshold unless invited.

He grabbed Peck and shook him. 'Fight it!' he yelled. 'It can't touch you if you fight it!'

Bishop lost his grip as Peck slid to the ground. 'Get them . . . get them out of here!' he heard the detective say.

Bishop wasted no more time: only Peck could save himself now. More shots were ringing out and the brief gunflashes lit the scene into frozen actions. The darkness around them was heavy, cloying, but his eyes were slowly adapting to it and he was able to make out shapes more clearly. He moved towards Jessica and her father, finding them crouched beside Edith Metlock, who still writhed in her chair.

'Jessica,' he said, kneeling next to her, 'we've got to leave here. It's too dangerous to stay.'

'They're torturing her, Chris. She can't bring herself out of the trance.'

Kulek was clutching the medium's shoulders. He softly called her name over and over again. Her body heaved as she began to retch, the sound dry and agonized until she slid from the chair and vomit spurted from her mouth in an arched stream. Bishop felt warm, sticky particles spatter his face and a foul stench came to his nostrils. He brushed the speckles away with the sleeve of his jacket, then reached down for the medium and pulled her into a sitting position. Lights began to spring into life from the roadway and two sets swung their beams on to the site as drivers manoeuvred their cars. Edith's eyes were wide and staring and, although she still shook, the wild writhing had stopped.

Bishop stood and dragged her up with him. She offered no resistance and he was relieved she could stand albeit only with his support. 'Jacob, hold on to Jessica. We're getting out now.'

'We made a mistake. We did not realize the madness we were dealing with, the evil that is around us.'

'You're telling me. Now come on, let's go!' There was an anger in Bishop that he did not understand, but was glad to have; it somehow threw strength into him.

He half-carried, half-dragged Edith across the site, making for the road where the lights were, urging Jessica and her father to keep close to him. The soldier who stood in his way took his time in raising the rifle and aiming it at Bishop's head.

All Bishop could see was the black silhouette against the glare from the nearest car, but he knew the soldier's intention. He started at the shot that rang out and watched the soldier's body slowly crumple.

'You going to stand there all night?' said Peck, emerging from the shadows to one side of the bright twin beams. Bishop almost cried out with relief; he never thought Peck would have been such a welcome sight. He tightened his hold on the woman, who still stared blankly ahead, and moved forward, Peck joining him and helping to support her weight.

'I thought it had me back there,' Peck said loudly. 'Couldn't move, like being doped up for an operation but not as pleasant. Scared the life out of me. Keep up with us, Miss Kulek, we'll soon be out of this!'

The site was further lit by the first searchlight coming back into action again and, as Bishop swung his head to survey the scene, he saw there were many individual struggles taking place, soldier against soldier, policeman against policeman, and a mixture of both. There were others on the site now, men and women who had not been there before, and these people cowered under the naked glare, shielding their eyes with raised arms. Where they had come from, he could not even guess, but it was evident that they were victims of the Dark. Bodies of policemen or soldiers whom they had attacked lay at their feet. He couldn't be sure, but one of these recumbent figures looked like the Police Commissioner himself.

They stumbled over the rubble around the edges of the site and crossed the small concreted area that had once been Beechwood's car space. To Bishop it seemed like only yesterday that he had crossed that area for the first time, yet so much had happened since, it could well have been years ago.

Willow Road and the Beechwood ruin were a bubble of light in that broad section of the city, the glow tinging the night sky so that it could be seen for miles around. People were stirring, looking out from their windows at the bright glow, wondering why it was lit when their streets were in total darkness. Others left their homes, or emerged from sewers and other dark places to make their way towards the light, already knowing what they would find there.

Bishop squinted his eyes against the headlights, the shouts, the screams, the crackle of gunfire spurring him on. They reached the first car and almost fell against the bonnet in their haste.

'Over here, guv,' came a familiar voice.

Policemen, uniformed as well as those in plain clothes, were all around, and Peck led the small party through them towards Roper who was standing by another car.

'Bloody murder going on back there,' the Detective Inspector said. 'I didn't think you'd make it.'

'Yes, me too,' Peck replied. 'Have you been on to HQ?'

'Yeah, they're sending all available help. They've got their own problems, though; trouble's breaking out all over again.'

Peck called a uniformed sergeant over. 'I want one more car swung round to point its lights into the site. Back as many of the others as possible up against one another to give a circle of light around us. Let's keep any marauding maniacs away, or at least see them before they get too close.'

They ducked instinctively when a bottle shattered into the road near them. They tried to see who had thrown the missile, but were dazzled by the other car lights parked further down. Another bottle came sailing through the air and this one broke against the shoulder of a plain-clothes policeman. The man went down on one knee, then rose again, apparently not badly hurt. Shadowy figures flitted momentarily through the beams of light before disappearing into the surrounding darkness once more. Peck knew he would have to get his men organized quickly their fear was becoming greater because of their confusion.

'Bishop, I want you and these people out of the area. My driver, Simpson, will get you over to the other side of the river.'

Bishop thought Kulek might offer some resistance to Peck's directions, but when he turned to the blind man he saw only a look of utter defeat on his face.

'Jacob?'

'It's become too strong, I did not realize.' The words were spoken to no one in particular; it was as if Kulek had retreated within himself.

'We must leave, Father. We can't do any good here,' Jessica urged him.

Peck was already opening the doors of the Granada. 'In you get,' he ordered crisply. 'Kulek and the two women in the back, you in the front, Bishop. Frank, grab a patrol car and go with them. Take a couple of wollies.'

Roper dashed off to commandeer a white Rover nearby, its driver immediately gunning the engine, relieved to be on the move. The car screeched over to the Granada as Peck slammed the door after Kulek and the two women. Other police cars were positioning themselves in the road, tyres screeching as they turned their vehicles so their headlight beams shone outwards. There were several muffled thuds as bodies of people lurking in the darker areas were struck by the fast-moving vehicles. Peck was surprised at just how many people were advancing on them, their forms frozen in the swinging lights reminding him of paralysed foxes caught on country roads at night. Whether or not they were all victims or some had merely come to investigate the lights and commotion, there was no way of knowing; there was no choice but to treat everyone as a potential enemy. He leaned into the Granada's passenger window and spoke across Bishop to his driver.

'Back to HQ, and don't stop for anything. Just follow the patrol car.'

Bishop called after Peck as the detective made his way towards the Rover. 'What will you do?'

Peck turned and said, 'We'll get the Commissioner and the civilians out of here, then head back over the river. The Army can sort themselves out!'

He turned and shouted instructions at the driver of the patrol car before Bishop could tell him he thought he had seen the Police Commissioner either dead or unconscious on the ground. Peck banged his hand down hard on the Rover's roof and the car shot forward. Bishop was thrown back into his seat as the Granada lurched after it. They had only travelled a hundred yards when the red brakelights of the car ahead blinked on and both cars screeched to a halt. Bishop poked his head out the passenger window and a wave of despair swept over him.

The end of the road was completely blocked by crowds of people. They moved forward, some running, others walking slowly as if by automation. He could see that many were in a bad state of deterioration, while others were alert, their actions quicker, the light not seeming to bother them as much. There was no way of knowing just how many were out there, but it seemed like hundreds, an unbroken mass of advancing bodies. As they drew nearer, he saw that many carried weapons ranging from iron bars to knives and milk bottles. One of the running men held what looked like a shotgun.

Jessica, directly behind Bishop, was leaning forward in her seat, unable to see clearly. 'What is it, Chris?'

He had no time to reply, for the driver in the car ahead had decided what to do: the Rover accelerated towards the mob and the Granada followed. If the policeman in the first car expected the crowd to jump aside and leave a path clear for him, he was mistaken: they stood their ground and the Rover plunged into them.

Jessica screamed when she saw the bodies tossed into the air, the headlights of the Granada illuminating the scene in shocking relief. Their car skidded as the driver turned the steering-wheel to avoid crashing into the back of the now stationary Rover; instead, the Granada's side smashed into the lead vehicle, throwing the patrol car's occupants forward and shaking Bishop and the others badly.

Roper's head appeared out of the white car's rear passenger window and he waved his arm in a forward motion at them. His own driver was quickly recovering from the shock of running down so many people and was starting his stalled engine once more when a man appeared near the bonnet of the Rover. He carried a shotgun and he aimed it at the windscreen.

Bishop heard the blast and saw the glass shatter leaving an irregular opaque fringe of glittering silver around the edge of the black hole it had created. Both policemen in the front of the patrol car jerked backwards, then their bodies slipped from view. Roper was already pushing his door open when eager hands grabbed at him. He raised his gun, but the weapon was forced aside as he was mobbed.

'We've got to help him!' Bishop cried as he reached for the door-handle on his side.

The driver grabbed him and pulled him back. 'No way. My orders were to get you lot out of here and that's what I'm going to do.'

'We can't just leave him!'

'We'd have no chance out there there's too many!'

Even as he spoke, their own car was being surrounded, fists and makeshift weapons pounding on the roof. Hands reached in and tore at Bishop's arms and face; the driver had wisely kept his window closed throughout. Bishop pulled himself away from the grasping hands and struck out at them, feeling no pity for these people and what they had become, just a loathing fear. Metal scraped against metal as the Granada lunged forward once more, friction between the two cars sending a shower of sparks into the air.

Jessica watched with horror as one man refused to let go of the door on Bishop's side and was dragged along with the vehicle as it gathered speed. Slowly and deliberately, Bishop prised the man's fingers away from the door-frame until the hands fell away; Jessica felt the slight but sickening bump as the car ran over the man's trapped ankles.

Simpson headed towards the pavement which seemed less congested than the road itself. A woman leapt on to the bonnet and managed to cling there, staring with manic eyes through the windscreen before the car mounted the kerb and she was tossed off. Bishop looked back, but could see nothing of Roper, just a mass of black shapes swarming over the Rover. Another blast, then a great roar as the patrol car's tank exploded; someone probably the same man who had shot the driver and his partner had deliberately fired into the Rover's bodywork. A great ball of flames rose into the air, killing those too close, burning others. Most of the road was lit up by the explosion, but the shadows quickly regained ground, beaten back only by the red glow from the ensuing fire.

The Granada bounced back on to the road, the main body of the crowd having been skirted, and sped on, heading for the T-junction at the end of Willow Road. The headlights caught the figure of a man as he ran forward and hurled a milk bottle at the windscreen. Both Bishop and the driver raised their arms to protect their faces as their view became a web of fractured glass. Barely slowing, the driver punched a hole through the windscreen and shouted to Bishop, 'Take my gun smash out the glass.'

He had flipped back his jacket and Bishop could just make out the gun butt protruding from the holster at the driver's waist. The policeman loosened the restraining grip, his attention still firmly directed through the jagged hole he had created. Bishop pulled out the gun and used it to smash a larger hole in the glass. The wind rushed through the gap, but they hardly noticed it. The car tore into the street at the end of Willow Road, the tyres flattening out and desperately biting into the road's surface for grip. Bishop was thrown against the passenger door and he grabbed the frame to hold himself there until the car had regained stability. He had one last look at Willow Road through the windows opposite him before they had turned the corner completely and houses blocked his view. Lights, flames and milling people were all he had seen. Now there was blackness around them, probed only by their own headlights.

Bishop became conscious of the cold steel he held. He proffered the weapon towards the driver. 'Here's your gun.'

The policeman's eyes were screwed into narrow slits against the wind rushing at his face and he did not take them from the road ahead. 'You keep it, I've got to concentrate on driving. Don't hesitate to use it if necessary.'

Bishop was about to protest, but thought better of it. The man was right: he could hardly protect them and drive at the same time. It was fortunate that all senior policemen had been issued with guns the whole force would have been armed if there had been enough weapons to go round for the number of victims claimed by the Dark was growing day by day. Or, more appropriately, night by night.

He wound up his side window, then turned to the three passengers in the back. 'Are you okay?' he asked above the noise of the engine and the wind rushing through the interior. Their shapes were barely discernible in the darkness. Jessica's face came close to his.

'I think they're both in a state of shock, Chris.'