Read Killman for Free Online Page A

the bush to their shelter. Papa Noah’s body had been removed for burial and there were no signs of any police investigation. Presumably Ben Kella had not yet had time to visit the scene of the crime. Not that there would have been much to see. The rain from the storm had churned up the ground and then washed it clean. Soon the sun would compact it into new shapes.
    Sister Conchita could hear the despairing cries of the animals imprisoned within the ark. She increased her pace. As she had feared, these were not the protests of birds and beasts merely denied natural light and fresh air. She was hearing the frantic protests of neglected animals that had not been fed or watered for days.
    She opened the door of the ark and went in. The stench from the cages in the darkened building was almost indescribable. No one could have been near the imprisoned creatures since the death of Papa Noah. Shem and the other members of the Church of the Blessed Ark must have been too busy or too frightened to think about the care of the poor beasts in their charge.
    Sister Conchita knew that she had no right to do what she was about to attempt. At the very least she should have asked the permission of the local headman. However, on her way through the village below the plateau, she had not seen a single human being. She had no idea how long it would be before people started returning to their homes. In the meantime, Papa Noah’s carefully selected retinue of beasts was suffering.
    The nun started walking up and down the main row housing the cages. One by one she opened them. As she did so, the incarcerated birds and beasts tumbled awkwardly out of their stinking enclosures and stumbled and fluttered in a confused mass to the open door of the ark. Their cries of relief reverberated from wall to wall. Within a couple of minutes the deck was almost empty. Sister Conchita could hear the running feet and beating wings of the released animals as they struggled to the welcoming pools and sustaining fruit and nut trees of the jungle.
    Only one cage had not yet disgorged its occupants. Sister Conchita walked up to the far end of the deck towards it. Snuffling disconsolately behind the wire mesh were two small wild bush pigs. They squealed ferociously as the nun approached. She tried to lift the cumbersome wooden bar that kept the door closed. It was too heavy for her and remained obdurately in its socket. Calling upon all her strength, she tried again. Still it would not shift. Sister Conchita took a backwards pace, wondering what she could do next. Even if she could lift the bar, and after her earlier failures that seemed a most unlikely outcome, the small but heavy pigs would probably bowl her over and perhaps savage her in their hunger pangs.
    Nevertheless, she approached the cage again. As she did so, a large brown hand clasped her shoulder gently from behind. Sister Conchita screamed convulsively and pivoted round. A tan-skinned islander had entered the ark and walked along the deck without her hearing his approach. Sister Conchita cringed away for a moment. Then she recovered her equilibrium and surged forward again, determined to sell her life as dearly as someone of her diminutive stature and generally pacific views could hope to do. The big man half-smiled in approval and placed a finger to his lips to indicate silence. Then he squeezed past the nun and clasped the large bar on the door of the cage. He lifted the wooden plank effortlessly and opened the door. The pigs stood in stupefied silence, and then raced along the deck, disappearing through the door of the ark.
    Sister Conchita gazed at the empty cage. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know . . .’
    She saw that she was talking to herself. The man had followed the pigs out of the ark at a pace resembling their own, leaving her alone in the gloom. Sister Conchita walked to the door and stared out of the ark. As she had expected, the man was no longer in sight. She stepped out into