Nailed by the Heart by Simon Clark Read Free Book Online Page A

the stairwell but could make nothing
out.

    "Aren't
we going down?"

    "Not
tonight. We haven't got time. Come on, let's make tracks if we're
going to find that gun."

    The
idea of the underwater cellar intrigued Chris, but it would have to
wait. There could be only a few more minutes of daylight left.

    On
the next floor they found the big room that looked over the sea. From
ceiling to floor, and along the entire length of the far wall, ran
the window. Immediately beyond that was the old gundeck; beyond that
nothing but sea and blue sky all the way to Holland. After all these
years the windows were smeared a blurry white from salt spray, with a
random white and black splash here and there. Pure seagull guano.

    The
room was empty and relatively clean; just a couple of lengths of gray
flex added to the evidence of building work abandoned in a hurry. The
Marie Celeste.

    "Where's
the gun?" David ran across to the windows. "Pee-ow!
Pee-ow!"

    "Over
there." Chris pointed to a shape as big as a car, covered by a
tattered tarpaulin. "A 40mm Bofors. But I don't think we can
blow any ships up tonight."

    "Why
not?"

    "No
ammo." He smiled down at his son. "Also, I have a feeling
the Army might have taken some parts of the gun away so it can't be
fired."

    "Isn't
that being a vandal?"

    "Well,
it seems like it. But we wouldn't want any of the guests firing the
gun by accident, would we?"

    "Suppose
not."

    "But
you see where those platforms are-near those gaps in the wall? That's
where the old-fashioned cannon used to go, before they had modern
guns."

    "Breech-loaders."

    "That's
right, David," said Chris, surprised at his son's knowledge.
"How do you know that? I was ... Blast, what's wrong with this
door?" Chris had wrestled with the brass handles for a full
thirty seconds. They would not budge. "I think we've got a
little problem here. I can't open the door."

    "Have
you got the key?"

    "No.
There isn't one. There's not even a lock. We're so high up you'd need
a helicopter to get onto the gundeck ... Dear me." If David
hadn't been there the words would have been a little stronger. Chris
gave the doors a last rattle. They were shut tight. "Not to
worry, kidda. We'll get the doors fixed then we can have a proper
look. We'll just have to see what we can through the windows."

    Even
with the windows in a gunked-up state he could tell that the view
would be pretty good. Perhaps it would be most striking in winter
during a storm. It would have all the spectacular sounds, sights and
fury of being on a ship; with the benefit of being firmly rooted in
the living rock. He could imagine waves cracking against the wall to
send foam and spray gushing up as far as the windows.

    He
recalled trips to Scarborough when he was David's age. An angry sea
would draw crowds of people to the Spa theater which hung on the edge
of the sea. The waves would hurl themselves at the seawall, bursting
in geysers of spray that shot perhaps thirty feet high. Showers of
brine would drench any spectator who got close enough. And to a young
boy's delight, someone always did. The sea always has that power. It
creates a spectacular display which radiates a magnetism that draws
people to it. Then all they can do is stand and watch.

    He
didn't know if it was the idea of danger which pulled not only
children but grown men and women closer and closer-the feeling you
get when you approach the lion's cage at the zoo, and lean over the
barrier to see, face-to-face, the man-eating beast. Perhaps the two
were similar. Seeing nature without her clothes on, in the raw, she
is more beautiful, more savage, more hypnotic, more fascinating, more
powerful, more aweinspiring, more frightening than you imagined. You
just have to get a little closer; see a little more.

    As
that six-year-old boy, Chris would watch the ocean's antics. Words
would run around his head as if the sea were saying, "Come on,
come closer. Watch me. It's fun. Look-a ten-foot wave; look-all this
foam boiling up at