by Neil Mach
‘So, basically,’ Hopie said, with a smirk. ‘This Jack Atkinson is a short, twenty-two-year-old female from Tyne and Wear? ‘You met Moondog, do you think this accurately describes him?’
Both men looked at the screen but neither made any further comment.
‘That’s what this suggests doesn’t it?’ Hopie said, ‘Someone say something. For heaven’s sake. You’ve rushed to the wrong conclusion, haven’t you?’
‘But —’
‘But? But you had better call off the raid on Moondog’s trailer while you still have time. Because but he isn’t the one who is wanted by the courts is he?’
‘It’s too late for that,’ said the Inspector with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘The boot-boys on the carrier have already arrived. In fact, they are searching the vacant lot at the back of the hotel as we speak...We also got armed support, just in case. And the helicopter’s up.’ He looked at his Airwave radio and nodded.
Hopie looked horrified: ‘Armed support? Helicopters? Isn’t that a bit top-heavy for an outstanding warrant for theft? God, Moondog’s been right about you lot all along. You can’t be trusted. He always says that. Is all this overkill because he’s a gypsy? And anyway, I know who the real Jack Atkinson is and where she is right now...’ Hopie took a deep breath, ‘And someone better go over to her address A.S.A.P. or the real fugitive will also disappear… ‘
‘Oh, shite and onions, she’s right,’ Moyes said. ‘We’re up to our necks in crap over this...’
‘We?’ shouted the duty inspector. ‘This is all your fault, Sergeant Moyes. Don’t bring me into it…’
*
Hopie called her mother when she returned to the office. Kin words were spoken by both parties and Hopie felt pleased that progress had been made.
Moyes burst into the office just before one o’clock. And she still hadn’t had any lunch. ‘They got Atkinson. You guessed it, right? They took her dabs again and bingo it’s her alright. She’s wanted for theft. And right under our nose too! Makes you think doesn’t it? When you and I were in the teashop we could have nabbed her. Ostensibly, her name is Jackie and not Jack. Someone blundered…’
‘Oh no...’ Hopie said facetiously as she shook her head. She kept back a little grin for herself. ‘And Moondog?’
‘He’s gone. Long gone.’
‘Who’d have thought?’ she grinned again.
‘They found huge tyre marks. He must have a tractor or something. They boot boys from the carrier said they found a box in the Hotel grounds. They said it looked like a shipping container or something. Nothing in it.’
‘How did they know there’s nothing in it?’ she looked over and tried not to reveal she was quizzing.
‘They put a dog around it, the hound had a sniff. Nothing. They couldn’t get into the box, no doors, no openings. They talked to the hotel manager to see if he would allow them to crack it open, but he said, no. He said the container belonged to the hotel. Your Mister Moon Dog upped and left. It doesn’t make him clean though, does it?’
‘Why ever not? Of course, it does. It makes him clean because his prints were on the glass, weren’t they?’
‘So, you say. But why do a runner if you’re clean? The heavy mob want to interview him about the home invasion. They think he might be, you know, somehow implicated.’
‘Implicated? Oh, do come off it, Sarge. He isn’t implicated. He is the hero in this. And his prints were ignored because he was clean, he told me he had no record and I believe him.’
Moyes ignored the comment and continued, ‘They charged Lavery. That’s why I’m back late. They wanted to update me. And the Chief Constable still wants to see you but says it can wait till Monday. You okay with that?’
‘Yes, thanks Sarge.’
‘Have you got somewhere to go, or will you go back to the cottage this evening?’
‘I’m staying at Mums house this weekend. That’s until Lavery gets his come-uppance. He will get a prison sentence, won’t he?’
‘Oh yes, sure. Nasty bit of work that one...’ But Hopie snorted because she’d heard Moyes suggest the complete opposite lots of times.
‘And the drug dealer, Woo Hoo Ram?’ she asked.
‘He’ll go inside for a long stretch. He has form as long as your arm. What about tonight?’
‘Tonight?’
‘Do you have a safe place to go tonight? I spoke with Mrs. Moyes and she’d be happy to put you up at ours. No problem.’
‘Well, that’s very nice of Mrs. Moyes, but I have a room arranged, though thank her from me. By the way, I know you mean well, so I’m sorry about earlier, Sarge. But you can see I was right, can’t you?’
‘Oh yes, I see it now. I only wish you’d told me earlier and more, well, confidentially, instead of right in front of the duty Inspector.’
‘Sorry about that. But I couldn’t have done it any earlier…’
‘Very well.’
*
A little after four o’clock, and approximately an hour before she was officially due to clock off, Sergeant Moyes came back from a long meeting and told Hopie she could go.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘It will leave you alone in the office for an hour. I know you don’t like to be alone here.’
‘It’s fine. I can cope for an hour, can’t I? Anyway, the Chief insisted you get off now, while it’s still light.’
‘Well, you do not have to tell me twice,’ she said. She collected her things and left.
*
Outside the nick Hopie felt properly free. Free of worries and free of anxieties. She felt a sense of liberation. She was happy to be reconciled with her mother, at long last, and that seemed her most important achievement. But she was also free from that rat Jimmie. And free of the sensation of entanglement caused by her uncle, the Chief.
For the first time in maybe a month, Hopie could leave the police station building without having to use her special ‘procedure’ to get past Jimmie. Because she knew, for sure, that he was going to be locked away.
So Hopie exited the police building using the main door and trotted own the front steps with a smile, ready to walk to the minicab office to hire herself a taxi and get to the hotel that Moondog had booked for her.
Outside the station, a white van waited on a double yellow line. She passed by the vehicle and heard a yell from the window. Who is that?
She was about to ignore the voice but heard another bellow, so flicked her eyes to the side-window to see who’d shouted. A man leant from the driver’s side of and desperately tried to wind-down the passenger window.
‘Hopie, is it?’ the guy shouted.
The man wore a grubby knitted hat, there were two days of stubble on his chin and a mess of yellow dirt around his eyes. Even so, she guessed he must be someone from the “heavy mob” asking about her statement. ‘Hello?’ she said: ‘Do I know you?’
‘Yeah, of course you know me. I’ve just been in the nick to drop off Sarah-Jane’s certificate....’
‘Huh?’
‘Sarah-Jane — she works with you?’
‘Oh right, sorry. I didn’t recognise you.... Are you her other half? Rob is it? Sarah-Jane’s hubby? I’ve only seen you in a picture, er, the one on her desk. You look different in that, somehow, the photo has you wearing a tux.’
‘Been working you see. Don’t wear a tuxedo on a building site…’
She giggled. ‘No, of course you don’t. That picture was taken on your wedding day, I suppose. How’s Sarah-Jane? ‘
‘Fine, fine. She hurt her ankle really bad, bloated rotten. She can’t walk.’
‘I thought she had flu?’
‘Heh?’
‘Flu?’
‘That too. There’s a lot of it about. You want a lift?’
‘Me? Er? Are you going my way?’
The man guffawed. ‘It depends where you are going love... I’m going back home, actually. I normally collect Sarah-Jane at four. But she’s not at work so I said I would run a few errands for her...
’
‘Well, obviously,’ Hopie gave a cute smile.
‘So? Do you want a lift someplace? Final offer...’
‘Can you take me to the Holiday Inn? That’s not out of your way, is it?’
‘No of course it’s not. It’s quite near to our place actually. Jump in.’ Rob opened the door and brushed dust from the passenger seat, ‘I’m sorry,’ he said as she squeezed inside. ‘It’s a bit dusty from the worksite.’
‘Fine,’ Hopie said with a coy grin.
Rob started the engine and the van grumbled down the road.
*
The Shadow Creature
When Rob’s van rushed down the Belvoir bypass and away from Dunington Forest, Hopie guessed something was wrong. ‘We’re going in the wrong direction...’ she suggested.
Rob said nothing. He did not take his eyes off the road.
‘Rob,’ she shouted. She touched his hand with a finger. ‘Did you hear me? We’re going the wrong way...’ She decided he might be tired; he’d been working hard on a building site all day.
Rob looked at her out of the corner of his eye, ‘What?’
‘Wrong way,’ she hollered, again.
‘Sorry?’
‘Are you okay, Rob? It looks like you’re headed in the wrong direction.’
‘Okey dokey...’ Rob said. He started to slow down.
‘Are you going to turn around?’
‘What?’
‘Are you going to turn around at the next junction?’
‘I’ll find a safe place to stop.’
*
After another quarter of a mile, they came to an off-road picnic area. The place seemed isolated, with two cars parked at one end and a truck at the other. Rob chose the centre of the long space and reversed his van against a turf bank.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘I need to get my sat nav from the back...’
‘Okay, but you don’t need it, because I know the way back... it’s in the opposite direction along the highway. I can direct you if you want.’
‘No, it’s best I get my sat nav,’ Rob explained. ‘I don’t want to make another silly mistake...’
Hopie was confused by his behavior, so gave an impatient snort when he stopped the engine. She shook her head when he jumped out of the van. She grimaced and jumped out too, to join him. She heard the double-doors open at the rear. There wasn’t much space to squeeze around, because he’d parked his van tight against the grass ridge. But in due course she managed to join Rob at the rear of his vehicle.
He stood on wet grass and shuffled his boots. He stared at the back of the van for a long moment, as if time-wasting.
‘Is everything all right Rob? Only you seem remote...’
Rob ignored the question.
‘Look, if it’s all the same with you, Rob, I think I’ll walk back... I don’t want to be any further bother,’ Hopie took a breath. ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Rob, but you seem a bit, you know, you’re acting a bit random…’
Rob scrunched his forehead and rubbed the back of his neck, then he said: ‘Would you believe that?’
‘What?
‘I’ve never seen anything like it. I came to get my sat nav and I find this in the back of my van...’
Hopie burned with curiosity and was always too inquisitive for her own good. She got closer to the van doors to chance a glance at whatever Rob yikkered about.
‘What?’ she said, ‘What is it? I can’t see anything out of place…’
His strong dust-coated fingers coiled around her throat. ‘Stay calm,’ he ordered. ‘I don't want you to blow chunks in the van... so I need to do this...’ He bent his elbow around her throat and pulled hard. So hard she thought she might drown in some fluids that abruptly entered her windpipe. She felt something rough loop around her mouth, so she tried to pull away from it and bite it — or him — but his hands were too powerful. She could smell resin on his skin and acidity swelled into her nostrils. Then she felt webbing material stuck over her lips.
‘Mmm, mmmph!’
‘That’s better,’ said Rob. ‘Now I’m going to put you in the grit sack, just to keep you from jumping all over the shop, while we go for a drive. Later, when it gets dark, we can have an adventure.’ She watched him lift a hefty nylon sack from the rear floor of the van. While he became distracted, she tried to head-butt him. It almost worked. But not quite. She pushed Rob off his feet, so he slammed into the edge of the van and smashed his shins against the bumper.
‘Little Princess, are you trying to get me worked-up?’ Rob slapped her across the face with his palm. When she recovered from his first whack, he hit her again, this time harder and with a clenched fist, just below the neckline. The punch knocked her backwards into the van. ‘That’s better… let’s get little Princess Bitchface taped-up so we won’t get any more disobedience...’ he muttered.
She heard gaffer tape torn from a roll. Then she felt it wrapped around her knees. When her knees had been secured, he pulled her elbows together till she heard bones crack, then he taped her arms.
‘This little piggy went to market...’ he sang. ‘I got a craving for crackling. I hope little Princess Bitchface is ready with a sweet crunch...’
Rob shoved her sacked body into the back of his van, where she rested on his work tools, bags of cement, rocks and masonry. Hopie heard the doors slam shut.
In a short while the van set off again, this time with the radio turned onto full volume. They took a little drive, not far, by her reckoning. Then he stopped again.
She took several breaths and tried to keep herself from trembling. She waited, forcing her heart to beat gently, just as Moondog taught her.
But he did not come. Rob did not come. What was the worthless piece of trash waiting for?
*
Hopie calculated they waited at least an hour, maybe longer — although she couldn’t assess the passing of time because she had been stuffed into a grit sack. Her bones pushed hard against hard masonry, and she could not move her legs because they’d been taped. She discovered she could move her shoulders a little, and she rippled her back muscles to keep herself flexed. She aimed to escape at her first opportunity. She hoped her fidgeting would attract attention.
Meanwhile Rob selected a hard-rock channel on the van-stereo and he played it at extreme volume. She knew he would eventually come to get her and guessed that moment approached.
She felt a jolt of pain in her chest, lungs and throat when the engine died, and the radio fell silent. She heard the tell-tale sound of the van door opening and slamming shut. Then she heard the strong stomp of Rob’s boots as he came around the side to get her. She could not help whimpering when he opened the back doors. She started to pant and felt herself perspiring.
‘Well, let’s have you Princess Bitchface. Will you behave? Or will I have to introduce liquid into your bloodstream to make you comply? ‘
He pulled at her legs, then dragged her body to the edge of the van. ‘Now if you behave, I will not inject you. But if you choose to misbehave, little Princess Bitchface, I will give you the needle. I’m going to trust you and take your sack off, but if you decide to be naughty then the sack will go on again and I will inject you with medicine. Do you want that?’
She shivered a response.
‘In that case, stay calm while I put a collar on, understand?’
Rob ho-hummed cheerfully as he prepared something near her calves. She thought she could smell leather. Then he pulled the sack away and tugged it from her face. It was as dark as death outside. Yet Hopie’s eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom. The place they’d now stopped at seemed familiar, but she didn’t know why. She looked to see what Rob was doing with his filthy fingers and saw he prepared a hypodermic syringe and a dog collar.
‘The needle is for naughty Princesses…’ he said. ‘The necklace is for good Princesses... Which one will you be?’
He lifted the syringe. She shook her head vigorously. He lift
ed the collar, and she nodded and made a yeah sound.
‘Good — I’m glad. I don’t want more trouble from the little Princess.’ He moved his revolting hands around the back of her neck and buckled-up the dog collar. Then he yanked the clasp real tight, and due to his heavy handedness, the constriction caused her to sneeze. Once the collar had been fixed to her neck, he found a dog-leash and clipped that on too. ‘Now we’re going on a little adventure. We will take firelighters with us, because — you know — we might decide to have a barbecue. That would be nice. There’s nothing better than a sizzle. We might warm our toes by the fire. That would be nice too, wouldn’t it, Princess?’ She squirmed and jerked. ‘Who knows? Ha, ha. Who nose? Get it? I made a joke. Go on, you can laugh, Princess Bitchface, I made a joke.’ He pulled her clear of the van and held the strap tight while he locked the doors. Then he pulled a Stanley knife from a holder on his belt.
‘No,’ she said as she flinched.
‘Don’t rootle, Princess. I’m cutting the tape…’
*
She kept still while the tape was cut from her legs, then her knees were free. He kept her arms taped-up, though. Rob put the knife back onto his belt and led the way by dragging her along, pulling hard on the leash.
They moved across damp grasses and into the dark countryside. Clumps of grass spattered streaks along her legs as they padded through puddles of dirty water, then slippery mud. Sludge spewed up her ankles and the moisture seeped into her boots to slug around her by her toes. Deeper they went into the dark undergrowth. Bushes nicked and pierced her skin or burned and tingled her limbs making her feel stung all over. Then, when he was far enough from the road, Rob flicked on a flashlight. He waved the small plastic torch left to right, up and down. What was he looking for?
At one point, he seemed to take a wrong turning, by a large thorn bush. They had to retrace their steps across soft hillocks that made her trip. Soon Rob stopped to find another reference point. That’s when she realized he had got himself totally lost. ‘I have not been here for a while,’ he told her. ‘It’s grown bushy since I last visited. I need to work out where I am, to be honest.’