by Denis Byrne
There was a mahogany table with ornately carved legs in the centre of the room, with four matching chairs in place around it. He couldn’t but wonder where on earth he was. There were magnificent scarlet drapes hanging from ceiling to floor adorning what was obvious a large window. When Matthew walked across the thick pile of the carpet and pulled the sash to open the drapes, he found that the window panes had all been painted black to obscure his view of the outside world. When he tried to open the window, he was unsuccessful.
Should a rescue team arrive at any second to free him, the only complaint he could have made about his treatment at the hands of his abductors was that he’d never been allowed to leave the bedroom at any stage of his incarceration. When he pointed out that he required exercise, both a treadmill and a rowing machine were installed in his room. He’d even been examined by a doctor not long after he arrived. At first he thought it was some impostor playing a cruel joke on him, but soon realised that he was wrong. It was obvious only after a few minutes that the man was indeed an experienced medical practitioner. He was familiar with the heart condition Matthew was afflicted with and, within an hour of the initial examination, after he’d left and locked the door behind him, he returned with an ample supply of the necessary medication.
When Matthew demanded to be informed of where he was and what was going on, the doctor merely shrugged his shoulders. The only time he spoke at all was in regard to medical matters, and to assure Matthew that he was at his service whenever Matthew needed him. It was the same with the others who attended on him. They were all polite and courteous, from the woman who came every day to make up his bed and tidy his room, to the man who served his meals. None of them would speak to him of anything, apart from their roles in providing for his welfare. After the third day of trying to squirrel information from them, Matthew realised he was wasting his time.
He couldn’t even complain of any great degree of boredom. There was an ample supply of books lining a mahogany bookcase. Several were classics he’d always intended reading over the course of the years, but somehow had never gotten round to. There was also an electronic chess set against which he could pit his wits. He was doing just that one night, when he heard the rotor blades of a helicopter hovering somewhere outside. He couldn’t help but wonder if at last his rescue was at hand.
*
Lily was becoming more and more doubtful as the days progressed. She couldn’t understand why her Mommy had left her with Mrs. Stevens for such a long time. Mrs. Stevens was a very nice lady, and there was no denying that they’d had a lot of fun together, even if she wasn’t particularly good at computer games.
Every time she asked her when she was going to be taken home, Mrs. Stevens told her it would be very soon now. Her Mommy was in Paris with her Daddy at the moment. Her Daddy had had a minor accident when he went over there on a business trip, so her Mommy had flown to stay by his side until the doctors discharged him from hospital, which would be any day now. Her Daddy was perfectly all right, Mrs. Stevens said quickly when she saw the look of concern on Lily’s face. It was only a twisted ankle, which would be as good as new in no time. Mrs Stevens told her her Mommy had sent a text message yesterday saying that everything was coming along nicely, and they’d both be home soon. It all seemed very strange to Lily.
Why on earth would her Mommy chose Mrs. Stevens to mind her when she lived so far away from town? Why hadn’t she asked Mrs. Birmingham, who lived beside them, to look after her? Mrs. Birmingham and her Mommy were the best of friends. And Mrs. Birmingham’s daughter, Cathy, was the same age as Lily. They played together all the time. They even went to the same school, for heavens sake. All Lily could think of was that her Mommy must have been very upset at the time of receiving the news about her Daddy, and she hadn’t been thinking properly when she asked Mrs. Stevens to pick Lily up from school.
Lily had timed the car journey the day Mrs. Stevens collected her. It had taken over three hours. But why anyone would want to live in such a desolate area she’d simply no idea. They’d eventually driven down a narrow country lane which made the car hop and squeak before driving towards a great big towering hedge which could have done with some serious pruning.
Lily was sure Mrs. Stevens had taken a wrong turning, but then part of the hedge swung open as though by magic. After they’d gone through the gap, Lily thought she saw the opening disappear in the rear-view mirror, which was straight in her line of vision. She squirmed around in her seatbelt, looking through the back window to see if she’d imagined it. She hadn’t. The gap had disappeared. Not only that, but there was a man in Wellington boots and dungarees sliding a bolt into place in a big steel gate located at the back of the hedge. Then Lily remembered Mrs. Stevens making a call on her mobile phone about ten minutes before they got to the hedge, telling someone she’d be arriving soon.
Lily suspected that Mrs. Stevens must be a very wealthy lady to hide herself away in the middle of nowhere behind a gate that nobody could possibly know was there. She must be even richer than her own Daddy to go to all that trouble to protect her privacy. Maybe she’d won an enormous amount of money on the Lotto and was afraid someone would kidnap her and hold her to ransom. Then Lily told herself not to be so silly to be thinking things like that. But she really couldn’t help it.
Even her own Daddy had become very security conscious, now that there were so many awful things happening all over the country. He’d had CCTV cameras fitted at the back and front of the house not that long ago, though how on earth anyone could get close to it, Lily couldn’t imagine. There was a ten foot wall surrounding their house, with electronic gates leading into their driveway, plus an intercom system built into the gate pillars visitors had to announce themselves through before they were admitted.
Every house on the tree-lined avenue in which they lived was protected in much the same way. They’d been advised to do so by the authorities not long after criminals had tried to break into Mr. and Mrs. Clarke’s house. Mr. Clarke was the president of a building society, and everyone was quite shocked at the time, even if the intruders hadn’t managed to breach the security system. They’d been caught on camera fleeing the scene after the alarms went off but, as they were wearing balaclavas, the footage hadn’t been any help to the Gardai in tracking them down.
When Lily asked Mrs. Stevens why she didn’t bring her to school every day, Mrs. Stevens told her she wasn’t to be worrying about anything like that at the moment. Miss Rawlings had granted her special leave of absence until her Mommy and Daddy came home. Miss Rawlings thought it was the best thing to do under the circumstances. Mrs Stevens said the headmistress thought Lily mightn’t be able to concentrate on her lessons properly until things returned to normal. Not, of course, Mrs. Stevens added, there was really anything to worry about. But Lily was an extremely inquisitive little girl, and she continued to ask questions. Sometimes she got answers that satisfied her. Sometimes she didn’t.
Lily shared a bedroom with Mrs. Stevens. It had two single beds, and was a lovely room. Lily wasn’t confined to it day and night as her grandfather was to his. She’d no idea he was in the same house as herself, and alarm bells might have gone off in her head had she been made aware of it. Lily loved her grandfather very much.
He was her Mommy’s Daddy, and he visited them every second Sunday for lunch. His wife had died before Lily was born, and he lived in a big house on the outskirts of town. It had higher walls than the ones her Daddy had had built around theirs, with even bigger electronic gates leading to the long driveway towards the house itself. Whenever they visited her grandfather, her Daddy always phoned in advance with the exact time that they’d be arriving, so the gateman would be expecting them.
Her grandfather was always very kind to Lily, and she knew he loved her every bit as much as she loved him. Mommy had been his only child. Sometimes Lily’s mind would dwell on this, and she found it hard to imagine that her Mommy had once been a little girl like herself.
If it was
n’t raining on the days they visited her grandfather, her Mommy would take Lily out into the grounds for a walk, while her Daddy and grandfather discussed business after lunch. They rarely talked about anything else, and Lily often got the impression that her Mommy became very bored listening to them on days when it was too wet to go outside. Lily didn’t blame her, thought it seemed to Lily that her Daddy and her grandfather liked nothing better than discussing percentage points and interest rates and other things she didn’t understand. Just as soon as the servants had cleared the table and left them alone, out would come the brandy and cigars, and off they’d start.
Sometimes Lily thought her Mommy couldn’t get out of the house quickly enough. It was especially lovely on a summer’s day. Her grandfather had a gardener working fulltime to maintain the grounds, and he was an expert at his job. Sunday, which was always the day they visited her grandfather, was the gardener’s day off, so herself and her Mommy had it all to themselves.
They’d wander through the avenue of trees, with the sun sending shafts of light through the trellised branches, projecting the shapes on the pathway as though they were stencilled there. Then they’d emerge from the dappled canopy into the full heat of the sun and take a stroll around the artificial lake to watch the carp in the shimmering water. Lily only wished she was there with her Mommy right now.
When she’d asked Mrs. Stevens to take her for a walk outside, Mrs. Stevens said she didn’t think it was a very good idea. And when Lily suggested she be allowed out by herself, Mrs. Stevens told her she thought that would be even less of a good idea. Lily asked her why. Because, Mrs. Stevens said, opening her eyes very wide, and putting on a frightened expression, ‘There are wild animals out there.’
She didn’t sound very convincing. ‘What sort of wild animals?’ Lily asked.
‘All sorts,’ Mrs Stevens said, giving a silly shudder for effect, which did nothing to make Lily believe she was telling the truth. ‘All sorts of ugly monsters lurking in the bushes waiting to gobble up anyone foolish enough to wander around looking for trouble.’
‘Then why was that man in the dungarees out there by himself when we were driving up to the house the day we arrived?’
‘What man would that have been, Lily?’ Anna asked her, her eyes narrowing a fraction. ‘I didn’t see anyone.’
‘He closed the gate after us, Mrs. Stevens. Surely you must have seen him in the rear-view mirror.’
‘Oh, him!’ Anna replied, sorry now she hadn’t the heart to follow the Boss’s orders. She’d been instructed to tie Lily’s hands together and put a blindfold on her as soon as she had her safely in the car. ‘He’s even scarier than the monsters. I wouldn’t like him to get his hands on me.’
‘I don’t believe in monsters, Mrs Stevens. That’s all nonsense. And I didn’t think that man looked one bit scary either. You just don’t want to take me for a walk. I’m fed up being cooped up in here every day.’
Anna Conway sighed. Lily was far too bright for her age. And it was becoming harder and harder every day to keep her amused and convinced of the story about her Mommy and Daddy. Not that she doubted for a minute that the Boss knew exactly what he was doing down to the last detail, but she’d really have perferred if he hadn’t included Lily in his plans. Anna didn’t think it was necessary. Surely nabbing the Governor of the Central Bank would have been enough of a shock to the nation to make the authorities hand over whatever was demanded.
Herself and Lily were located in a secluded part of the house. Special partitions had been included in the building of it, so that at the touch of a switch the house could be divided into four separate self-contained entities. But the house was so big, each section was large enough to provide accommodation for several people. And each section, through an intricate feat of architectural brilliance, could gain access to the main entrance.
In Anna’s and Lily’s section was a bedroom, kitchen, games-room, lounge and dining room. No access to any other part of the building, apart from the main entrance, could be achieved unless a specific request was made from Anna over a secret intercom behind a framed painting hanging in the lounge. All she had to do was inform the control room, and the partition separating them from the rest of the house would be made disappear into the floor.
It was whispered that the Egyptian architect, plus the entire foreign workforce who’d been contracted to construct the house had all disappeared as soon as the last piece of the amazing jigsaw had been completed. Rumour had it that they’d been taken on sightseeing helicopter rides in twos and threes out over the great expanse of the ocean by Myles Moran and some of his employees, and been given a closer view of the surging sea than they may have wished for. But that was only speculation. They’d more than likely merely boarded an aeroplane at the airport to head home after their tasks had been completed, substantial cheques in their wallets, presented with compliments of Moran Enterprises.
Anna was wondering if she should take a chance and bring Lily for a walk outside for ten minutes or so, if for no other reason than to keep her spirits up and revive her confidence in Anna’s truthfulness. It was dark outside. No one would see them. They could slip in and out the main entrance and be back before anyone knew they’d even gone. Even though the terrain outside was rough and ready, Lily would appreciate the break. And give Anna some respite from her endless questions. It would also take Lily’s mind off her Mommy and Daddy for a while. Anna decided to risk it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Harrington hoped he looked the part. He was dressed in much the same manner as on his last visit to the pool hall, except that he’d exchanged his Man. U. top for a Homer Simpson T-shirt. If he was being regarded as a lamebrain, he decided, he might as well look like one. He descended the concrete steps into the hall. There were an awful lot more people in it than earlier that day, most of them men who looked like they’d stepped right out of a hard-boiled gangster movie, but only one person paid him any particular attention.
Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt like falling to his knees and saying a few extra prayers to go with the ones he’d already said to whatever god it was had sent the pigeon back to him so quickly. The guy had said he wouldn’t be here until tomorrow, yet there he was now, all nice and sweet and innocent, not having the patience to wait to try and win some of his money back the following day.
The trouble was, all the tables were buzzing at this time of night, and Harry knew old Baldy had a list as long as his arm of names waiting to take over the next vacant table. Harry had tried to rope in what he thought were a few likely looking suckers earlier before the place was jumping, but the very suggestion that he might engage them in a few friendly racks had them splitting their sides laughing.
‘Thanks, but no thanks, Harry,’ the first one told him. ‘I’m not feeling all that generous tonight. If I’m gonna lose a few shekels, I’m gonna lose it fair and square.’
Harry had never seen the guy before in his life. Neither did he know the second prospective pigeon he approached a little later. The one who told him to take a long hike off a short pier with a couple of ton weights tied to his ankles. Harry was put out by all this unwarranted rejection. For Pete’s sake, all he was trying to do was earn an honest living. Even guys he didn’t know from Adam had his number. He tried everything he knew with the second pigeon. Eight racks up out of the best of twenty, and all for a measly fifty euro stake to cover the entire number of racks. Any self-respecting hustler couldn’t offer fairer than that.
‘And after I’ve cornered the first eight racks.’ the guy said to him, ‘What then? I just sit there like a spectator while you rattle off the next twelve? Huh?’
Harry walked away from him without even bothering to answer. How could you do business with a sceptical guy like that? Harry would have let him win nine racks before pocketing the fifty euros. And that was value for money in anybody’s diary. The guy could even go around town boasting how he’d come so close to whipping Harry’s butt. What more did he want?
A free haircut and shave while Harry was at it?
But, just like Baldy Bradford had told him that night a while back, everyone was on to him now. The price of fame, Harry sighed to himself, as he sat in his usual spot and drank from the neck of a bottle of beer. And then he saw Harrington making his way down the steps, instantly restoring his faith in the gods of pool who looked down benevolently on those who’d dedicated their lives to the game.
Harrington leaned against the dirty wall well away from where Harry was seated, pretending he hadn’t seen him yet. He stood in the gloom on the periphery of the tables, shading his eyes as he peered through the glare of the lights beaming down on the cloth surfaces, for all the world looking as though he was trying to catch sight of someone.
Harry hopped up from his seat and scuttled over to where old Baldy was skimming through the pages of a glossy magazine. Harry plonked his empty bottle on the counter. Baldy looked up at him enquiringly, mechanically reaching beneath the counter for another beer. Harry shook his head. He placed twenty euros in the centre of the magazine, winking at Baldy as he did so.
‘How about sticking my name at the head of the queue, Baldy?’ he asked softly, closing the magazine over. ‘The pigeon’s landed way ahead of schedule. When I’ve cleaned him out again, there’ll be more where that came from.’
‘Are you crazy?’ Baldy whispered, glancing behind him at the big slate board on which were chalked a long list of names, the owners of same being scattered around the hall waiting for a session to finish, some of them quite close to the counter, every so often glancing at the board to see how things were progressing. ‘You want to start World War Three or something?’
‘Ah, come on, Baldy, please!’ Harry begged, though keeping his voice low enough to avert the upheaval Baldy had mentioned. ‘He’s back. The same guy who was in here earlier throwing his readies around like confetti. He can’t wait to be turned over again. He’s over there leaning against the wall close to number five.’