CHAPTER 26

Jeebs had searched the foyer, the toilets, and even the carpark out the back, but Ted and Prescott Heath were nowhere to be found.

He was just about to head back into the studio when he noticed a corridor off to the left. At first he thought it was a dead-end, and he felt disappointment flood through him, but then he glimpsed what looked like railing; the type that leads to stairs, and he headed quickly towards it.

Yes, there were stairs there, leading to a door one floor down.

He opened it slowly, quietly, careful not to attract attention, and suddenly found himself in one of the shadowy lower levels of the studio.

It was like a rabbit warren, filled with empty offices and nameless doors, and would no doubt be a very busy place when it was in use. But not today. Today it was eerily quiet.

He crept along the corridor, checking every room as he passed. They were all shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the sun’s afternoon rays filtering in through the small glass windows.

A persistent banging suddenly caught his attention, and he stopped for a moment. It was coming from somewhere up ahead.

And then the banging stopped, as suddenly as it started.

He crept forward again, ever so slowly, half-expecting someone to come meandering along and spot him. But no one did.

He had only progressed a few steps when a peculiar feeling engulfed him, and the hairs on the nape of his neck stood to attention.

It was too quiet. And that bothered him.

Something didn’t feel right.

He quickly looked around, adrenalin pumping, just as someone grabbed him from behind.

Jeebs felt the cloth over his mouth and nose, and panic suddenly engulfed him.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get a skerrick of air into his lungs.

Then he smelled the smell. What was that? He kicked out. Let loose a couple of wild punches.

Help! Someone please help me! he thought. Had he yelled it? Or just thought it? No one came.

He tried to pull the cloth away; tried to get some air into his lungs, but he had no strength.

And all the time the person was talking to him. He thought he recognised the voice, but he was in such a state, he couldn’t really be sure.

His head was spinning now. There was no air at all. Whoever had him was trying to suffocate him!

He flung his arms out in one last act of defiance, but to no avail.

‘No!’ he tried to squeal, but only a muffled noise escaped. Nobody would hear it, and they wouldn’t think anything of it if they did.

He felt as if the life was being sucked out of him, and suddenly his eyes felt incredibly heavy, as if a great weight were pushing them closed.

And the last thing he saw as the darkness took him, was a vision of himself, grinning triumphantly.