Pearced

by Ryder, H

  Does he notice us all sitting there drinking tea, like the Queen will make an appearance? It would have been comical if he didn’t have an angry snarling expression, a physique that almost completely fills the doorway and a fucking massive gun strapped to his belt. He looks down at the unconscious tied forms on the floor, then back at us. Waiting for a reaction, for anything, we're paused, all of us. I take a serene comedy bite from my sandwich like I’m watching a movie and clearly enjoying myself, my eyes fixed at one place, on the face of the man in the doorway. Ugly, big, unclean and tall. What is it with lack of personal hygiene and an aversion to laundry out here?

  “He's slow isn't he?” Says Kurt out loud sitting comfortably back on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, his ankle resting over his knee. But just as he does the man reaches for a gun stuffed in the back waistband of his jeans, ignoring the obvious weapon, perhaps that one isn’t loaded? I glance out of the window, at the Jeep parked untidily outside, then back at the man, most unpleasant to look at, wrong car too. He manages after several silent seconds have passed, to take control of himself and utter a question, “what’s going on here?” Shouldn't that be our question?

  I am sorely tempted to offer him tea and a sandwich, because it's polite, but restrain myself perhaps now’s not the time for a comedic interlude. Though he deserves the sarcasm I am proud of myself for holding my tongue, it doesn’t happen very often, Mum would be proud. She wouldn't be happy about this scene though, his shirt hasn't been ironed. And she'd certainly have comments about his outfit being tardy and his hair needing cutting. She wouldn’t be wrong either. His eyes betray him, he’s confused and out of control but tries to hide it behind a fistful of steel pointing wildly around the room “who are you?” Jabbing the barrels into the air.

  He shoves the gun in our general direction clearly he doesn’t know what to do at this point, unable to think on his feet. Slow minded, he’s trying to decide which of us poses the biggest threat, bet he gets it wrong too. He needs a gang, bet he was a bully at school. His plan to intimidate us, but we're all too tired to play along. I dunk a biscuit into my tea and take a bite as if to ignore his rudeness, disturbing tea time should be a capital offence my head is telling me, and this enrages him further.

  He clearly can’t decide which of us gets the pointy end, and to be fair he’d likely get any guess wrong because in this motley group, appearances are most certainly deceptive. But he braves to speak, “what have you done to them?” He demands shouting with a hint of Hispanic accent, points the gun, jabbing it in turn to everyone in the room. Hearing all the commotion Steffi begins to come around and mumbles groggily. We don’t hear what she says, the big man torn between holding us up and helping his fellow comrades.

  Then we hear it, “Dad?” Her eyes still shut and a little puffy from the giant slap around the face I gave her as she tried to disturb tea-time with her bad language, well deserved. Through her puffy lip we can hear the words, “what’s going on,” she tilts her head to the side, likely to relieve the tension from being in the same position for some time, again, well deserved. “What’s all the shouting?” She pulls at the ropes binding her not understanding, and flinching at the obvious sharp pain in her side, why her arms and legs won’t respond to her commands, “why can’t I move?” We all sit there motionless, as the man gets more and more angry, his face visibly fills with blood and gets very red. Our collective faces following the conversation from one person to another like a tennis match. Quite entertaining actually.

  “Stephanie, you OK?” He hisses.

  “Stephanie” I mouth, bloody hell.

  “Dad, what took you so long, untie me!” She demands, she’s the boss I conclude, as his expression changes to one of someone doing extreme maths, how do I point a gun, and bend to untie my Daughter? Not good at maths either then?

  Looking back at us in exasperation, “my Daughter, what have you done to her?” He screams pointing his weapon angrily, jabbing it at us, looking at our faces for answers. Of course our faces are blank, we've had a long night.

  Daniel takes a step forward his cup and saucer still in his hands, “we just popped over for a cup of tea,” reaches for another biscuit from the plate, “and a biscuit.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and suddenly my mood changes. Daniel’s mask is on, and he is calmness itself, “and tied them up like this,” Daniel offers, his expression as still as a pond. “They're welcoming committee was hardly hospitable.” true bloody story.

  Kurt stands too, slowly, as tall as the angry man but half his age and fit, making a visual point the man can't fail to recognise. “This is my Father's home”, says Kurt quietly, “we just can't abide that level of rudeness.” Kurt admits.

  Liza asks, “Who are you?” The man had barely noticed her standing in the corner of the room so tiny she is. He looks at her and decides she’s nothing to worry about, his lips twitch with look of pleasure that makes my skin crawl as he watches her move closer to Kurt

  Regaining his hold on the situation as he sees it he decides to try intimidation. “We're the guys who are gonna bury your broken bodies.” Obviously bluffing, his gun isn’t even held straight, besides none of them look fit enough to dig one hole let alone six! I’m tempted to say that and change my mind, he doesn’t look like he’d have a sense of humour.

  “Charming” pipes up Nigel, I nod in complete agreement, “it’s just rude to bust your way into someone’s home uninvited.” he says.

  “Tea?” I ask everyone. I hold the teapot loftily and offer a top up all round, amused by this, I am so funny sometimes I say to myself. Daniel shoots a glare at me, he doesn’t agree. Kurt toasts our captives with his cup and saucer, it’s quite amusing, and has the desired effect of enraging our new guest so his hands shake in temper, and Kurt drinks his tea. Of course that was his plan, breaking them apart bit by bit.

  Steffi is now fully awake and glares at me in utter hatred, “you!” She spits. Her hair still looks shiny though, I wonder what shampoo she uses, and vow to ask her later.

  “Yes, hello Steffi.” I answer in mild amusement, I cross my legs to get comfortable. “Come out here do some sight-seeing…?” I nod toward Daniel, and she looks at him not anger, maybe longing? He hurt her didn’t he? I wonder what happened there, but fail to ask.

  “Walk on the beach...?” Adds Daniel.

  “Lay by the pool...?” I gesture with a hobnob biscuit, “catch up on some reading?” that's assuming you can read of course. Still pointing the gun at us, the nasty smelling man smiles a bad teeth smile, unsheathes a huge hunting knife from its holster attached to his belt. It emerges looking lethal and shiny, I begin to wonder if we should try to do something, and also, why is this knife the only thing about this man that's clean? Strange how your mind works eh? He bends over not taking his eyes off us all and saws eagerly through Steffi’s bonds with the deceptively not very sharp knife, and hands her the weapon. “Cut him loose.” He orders her gesturing to the other chap, we’d almost forgotten him. Bless.

  “Bossy isn’t he your Dad.” This from Daniel as he places his china cup gently onto the coffee table. We watch as Steffi finally manages to get to her feet having been tied up for ages, and cut through the ropes tying the other chap. “You know Steffi”, he continues, in a gentle understanding tone, like a parent telling a child how disappointed he is in them. “This does mean the end of your contract at RANDom.” He moves forward another step slowly, “I really don't see villain and denim developer going hand in hand.” He crosses his arms casually, “and you threatened my girlfriend,” he says shaking his head, “and that's just rude.” I have to agree. And girlfriend!!! I didn’t miss that and my brows shoot up. Daniel continues, he’s on a roll, “and your boyfriend here,” he remains very calm, “Emilio?” Steffi can't look away, transfixed to Daniels face, hearing his words. “Looking at him now I really think you could do better.” So cool under pressure Daniel is smooth and calm, secretly I’m impressed, and turned-on too, what’s bloody wrong with
me?

  Emilio is very angry now as he gets very slowly to his knees, his legs needing time to gain their strength. He staggers to his feet finally, he's overweight and the strain on his joints a painful reminder to eat less or exercise more. His father hands him the shotgun from his belt. He has no control and shaking like a leaf, bravado over bravery. Stupid boy. Steffi spits like a boy on the floor, disgusting. Her lips in a snarl and her face full of hatred. “He is my brother stupid not my boyfriend!” This to Daniel, she wants him to know. None of us really care and Liza even yawns, which of course infuriates Steffi even further. Well done. “Now where is the gold?” She fakes calm, her hand is trembling, “that’s all we want,” I notice she doesn’t rub her sore wrists now free from the tight bonds and many wraps of rope. I guess it must just be a TV thing.

  Note to self, watch less TV

  “Just give it to us,” she says out of breath, “and we’ll be out of your hair.” And as if to make her point she flicks her hair out of her face. She jabs the knife into the air to intimidate, but she doesn’t seem in control, and the way she holds the knife too, like someone not used to using one for anything other than slicing lemon for her g&t's methinks.

  “You’re hardly in a position to argue about it are you?” From Emilio, but we've all had a long day and it takes extra energy to appear scared, and we just don’t have it in us.

  “Gold?” Asks Daniel feigning a mild amusement like this is a scene from crime drama, he reaches down into his backpack for something, the older man watching his every move eyes wide and scared. Finally finding what he wants, “oh you mean this?” He pulls the idol slowly and deliberately out of its covering and the bright clean shiny gold gleams in the sunshine, we all gasp. Us in renewed appreciation of its intricate carvings easy to see now in this light, and them in awe of its rare and exotic beauty, but something else too…surprise?

  Daniel turns it in his hands, toward the window for added effect, “this beautiful ancient idol, detailed and crafted with skill.” He's taking his time enjoying himself, everyone in the room stares at the sight of it, transfixed. We haven’t looked at it properly since the cave, his expression has altered, he's hatching a plan, “it’s precious and beautiful, and very, very heavy.” I know what he intends to do. How can I help?

  Nobody moves for what seems like ages, but really it is just a few seconds. Steffi still has the knife and whilst I’m lusting after Daniel deliberately with my guard down, she grabs me in a headlock with one surprisingly strong arm. Well, that’ll teach me wont it, my part of the plan hatched? The dull warm blade resting on my neck. Who does this bitch think she's kidding? I ask myself, but decide to wait, Daniel has his plan face on, and I don’t want to interrupt this could be fun. Besides, I can get out of this any-time I want to. I feel the warm steel edge press into my skin, it would be easy to disarm her, she’s not paying attention to me, she’s staring at Daniel, you'd be foolish not to, he's quite simply gorgeous. It’s an obsession, I feel sorry for her actually, but it's a fleeting flawed softness, and doesn't last.

  Daniel moves forward as if to try to save me, my hero, it's all fake, he knows he doesn’t have to, I wink at him and hope no one notices. “Don’t move!” Steffi hisses, “or I’ll slice her throat!” Not terribly convincing, but she’s doing her best, that knife would be hard pushed to cut baling twine. “Give me the idol.”

  Her fully conscious brother Emilio is steady on his feet now and moving up and down the living room like a lion in a cage, agitated and nervous, he is the weakest link. Too angry to think straight, too agitated to move quickly, too stupid to have a plan anyway.

  The large man, Steffi’s Dad hands him another gun holstered at his ankle as a spare “Emilio?” Getting his attention, “here!” He gestures for Emilio to take the weapon, and dropping the unloaded shotgun to the floor, without any encouragement grabs the new weapon. With a gun in his hand he feels powerful and he visibly calms. He must have seen a slight smile on my face, amused by the scene playing itself out like a terrible old cowboy movie, and that makes him quite cross.

  “Listen” he hisses, and everyone does and is still, we are listening, but he says nothing, he doesn't have the imagination to tell us anything we don't already know or can guess. So leaves the thinking to Steffi and remains quiet. Good. Opportunists, all of them, and that strategy rarely leaves time for plans, and planning as anyone will tell you, is the key to a successful outcome.

  “Don’t move a muscle.” Shouts Steffi. OK, then what? Clearly out of her depth her raised voice betraying how out of control she actually feels, her brain spinning and reeling. She really has no idea what she’s done, how her plan has backfired. I can feel her heartbeat speeding, our bodies are that close, rushing its way to collapse if she doesn’t clam down soon, and she holds tight onto me like a talisman. But that just puts me in a better position, because this close she can’t swing at me, stab, fire or fight, the advantage is mine, but I give Daniel a nod I’m OK and wait.

  The man is extremely agitated, “give me the idol!” He shouts finding his voice, its shaky and tense, he’s losing it too, “now, or I’ll shoot you all!” His weapon visibly shaking in his hands. I hate guns, they are for one thing and one thing only, killing. You hold one, you’re prepared to kill, if you’re a coward, a gun will not make you brave, you’re more likely to hurt yourself. My advice? No guns, learn to fight, punches don’t need reloading. I exchange imperceptible glances with Stan and Liza and wink at Daniel who is cradling the golden eagle in his hands in appreciation, he’s weighing it up I decide.

  First Kurt looks confused and then understanding hits him between the eyes, Daniels eyes fly open wide, the time has come, and he says: “OK, you win here you go.” Pulling his strong arm back like a rugby player ready to throw the ball, he propels the heavy golden icon hard at the big man, his hurl slamming him square in his stomach and instantly winding him. He doubles over dropping his gun and the gold spins across the floor out of sight, as he tries to catch a lungful of air. Steffi is too slow to react and I bring my arm forward and with all the strength I have ram my elbow hard backward into her chest, breaking a rib I hear it crack. Kurt is at my side and grabs the knife quickly, like we’ve practised it in our minds, Steffi lashes out and I elbow her in the face breaking her nose. Blood everywhere, she is crying about her beautiful face, she might be thank full to be less beautiful in prison. I hold her in a half Nelson with her arm twisted high so it hurts, I’m not sorry.

  Note to self, definitely watch less crime drama.

  The other man Emilio, raises his gun at Stan with a nasty growl on his face like a wild animal, he obviously loves killing things and a human, well that’s just another little animal that will lose it life for his entertainment and the treasure will be his.

  Or so he believes.

  Chapter thirty-three, Monday:4thnovember2013 treachery

  Finger on the trigger of the small gun, Emilio waves it frantically as he watches his family crumple to the floor in agony as Liza finishes the big guy off with a roundhouse kick her sensei would be proud of, his head her target spinning so fast and hard spittle and blood sprays out like a Catharine wheel. Kurt gives Steffi a fist to the jaw sending her flying across the floor hitting the wall at speed, which must have hurt, she deserves it. After all, she did leave nasty smears of hand cream all over my keyboard remember? I do, bloody hell.

  “I’ve always thought she needed putting in her place,” he says breathless, “she’s a piece of work.”

  “Another time maybe.” Daniel tells his brother in a warning tone.

  Emilio is crazed, and aims his gun at Daniel, level and close, he wouldn't miss from there. We all hear an ear-splitting 'crack' of gunfire, eyes wide in alarm we stare in disbelief as the gun has gone off. It's Stan’s gun that's hit the mark, he stands there solid and calm with his gun still aimed in an outstretched arm. And the man Emilio is on the floor rolling around in sheer agony as part of his gun-wielding shoulder has exploded, albeit a very smal
l sliver actually, but the effect is quite bloody. I wonder if they'll be able to fight now with these injuries, superficial yes, hurts I bet, then decide I don’t care. Emilio tried to kill us for a little golden eagle.

  We tie them all up again, using multi layers of tight knots. We stand and stare in disbelief, numb, silent and exhausted. Paused in mid thought we are still, seconds pass, and I need a brew. “Tea anyone?” I ask, scraping my long hair messy from off my face, and tying it up in a pony. Mum is right.

  Further note to self, get my haircut.

  The response is a screaming cheering clapping laughing as we all begin to relax. Daniel puts the golden eagle back in its place, wrapping it first reverently in an Isle of Wight tea towel from the kitchen, and we sit back down in the living room saying nothing for a long time. “How rude,” says Nigel suddenly, “we didn't offer them any tea.” Wiping his glasses calmly for the twentieth time on his monographed handkerchief, “no wonder they were pissed!” We laugh so much our bellies ache.

  “What do we do now?” Asks Liza cutting into a fruitcake she found in the pantry, “call the authorities? Are there any police around here?” She looks questioningly at Stan expecting him to take charge, as she places chunky slices of dark brandy soaked fruit-cake onto plates for everyone, and we all tuck in hungrily. She unties and reties her ponytail yet again with a dramatic flourish, flicking her golden hair through the sunlit air for the best effect. Thoroughly enjoying herself, she hugs Kurt shutting her eyes tight, he picks her up like she’s a doll and swings her around laughing, and they head upstairs for a little lie-down. Indeed.

  TC: “Yep, I was right, totally smitten” like me.

  PF: “Maybe we could triple date?” Go back to bed.

  TC: “Miss you” I lie.

  PF: “Liar, but I appreciate the thought” busted.

  “That was fun,” says Nigel, munching a second slice of Dundee cake, he has picked off the glazed cherries that decorate the top, me too. Pointless food glacé cherries.