Running Wild by J. G. Ballard Read Free Book Online Page B

whole Pangbourne Massacre?”
    â€œThat’s what everyone upstairs assumes, all the senior CID people and the Yard. According to them, this was the signal to the other members of the gang waiting to attack.”
    â€œIt seems likely—someone had to fire the starting pistol.”
    â€œSure. But let’s run the tape back a little, Doctor…”
    The pictures moved in reverse, showing the familiar perspectives of the estate, except for a solitary pigeon that flew tail-first down The Avenue, as if withdrawing tactfully from the tragic scene. At Pangbourne Village, I reflected, time could run backward or forward. The residents had eliminated both past and future, and for all their activity they existed in a civilized and eventless world. In a sense, the children had rewound the clocks of real life.
    â€œThis is the Miller house.” Payne pointed to the graceful modern façade. “It’s now about 8:19, and the Millers are ready for another rich and successful day to wrap itself around them.”
    I ignored this and watched the screen. The surveillance camera, as if bored with nothing to do, began to scan the house in close-up. The superb lenses, representing the most advanced optical technology, showed every detail with unnerving clarity. The camera panned along the plate-glass windows of the lounge and dining room. The undisturbed furniture could be clearly seen, even a clock registering 8:20 on a mantelpiece.
    â€œNothing untoward there,” I commented. “No assassins waiting for a signal…”
    â€œHold on, Doctor—you’ll see the assassins in a moment.”
    The camera passed the study windows. The darker background of bookshelves concealed the interior, but somewhere in the confused play of light and shadow I saw the image of a child.
    â€œWait, Sergeant! Hold it there.”
    â€œYou saw it, Doctor? Good…” Payne froze the frame and enlarged the image. Marion Miller was standing on a chair by the window, her knees against the sill. Her untidy blond fringe partly covered her eyes, but on her lips was a small tight smile, unmistakable in its fierce knowingness. Her gaze was fixed on one of the houses across The Avenue.
    Behind the girl was her brother Robin, his face dappled by the reflected foliage. His eyes also watched the house opposite. Between the two children was the desktop screen of the security monitor.
    â€œIt’s the same picture that you and I are watching,” I pointed out to Payne. “Perhaps they’ve seen something, Sergeant, and they’re trying to warn everyone…?”
    â€œNo, they’re just waiting for the screen to go blank. It’s this little pair who fire your starting pistol.” Payne ran the film in slow motion. Marion’s brother had come to the window beside her. Boy and girl clasped hands and raised them over their heads in a gesture reminiscent of a black power salute.
    â€œLook closely at this, Doctor…” As the smiling girl lifted her arm she pressed against the window, and her dress flared across the glass. Imprinted on the waist were two floral patterns like stylized tulips.
    â€œHandprints, Doctor. They were still there when she was found at Waterloo Station, in the same blood group as her father’s.”
    I stared at the five-fingered patterns. “Fair enough, Sergeant. So at this point Miller and his wife were already dead. Robin and Marion were first off the mark, and then came downstairs to signal to the others. Everything depended on whether these two were up to it.”
    â€œIt’s easy to follow their line of sight. They were looking across The Avenue at the upstairs window of Annabel Reade’s bedroom. She must have passed on the message to whoever cut the TV and telephone cables.”
    â€œThen all the screens went blank, and the killing machine rolled into action.” I walked over to the projector, fascinated by the flower-shaped prints