by Denis Byrne
‘Just a minute!’ Matthew said, blocking Myles’s path towards the door. ‘There’s something you haven’t explained. Why did you make me phone the Minister and tell him you were going to shoot Lily and myself if the ransom wasn’t paid in forty-eight hours? It doesn’t make sense after what you’ve just told me.’
‘That will only happen as a last resort, Mr. Dawson. If the ransom is withheld. As a businessman yourself, I’m sure you appreciate I must protect my reputation. It wouldn’t bode well for any future business deals I become involved in to be seen to be in any way weak concerning this one.’ He smiled his infuriatingly pleasant smile as he made his way around Matthew and headed for the door. ‘But I’m sure there’s nothing for you to worry about. After all, the Minister is a man of his word, is he not?’
Then the door closed and the key turned in the lock. Matthew stood staring into space, the realisation that he was being held captive by a manipulative monster well and truly confirmed. He wondered what benefit he derived from indulging in such despicable mind-games. What was the point unless the main purpose was to inflate his own ego and satisfy his sadistic streak?
Going to all that trouble of pretending concern and giving reassurance, then just as promptly pricking the bubble of hope by confirming what would happen should the ransom not be paid. Matthew told himself that only for Lily he’d have attacked the man with his bare hands before he’d had a chance to leave, and gladly suffer whatever consequences which might follow. It would be a happy release for him if they shot him there and then.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Needles congratulated himself on the fact that he was definitely becoming fitter. He was standing in front of the wardrobe mirror in his room, stripped to the waist. While he had to admit that he was never going to be mistaken for a member of the Chippendales, when he flexed what passed for his biceps, there was a definite improvement on the last time he’d checked. His arms were like a couple of thin tubes with hands attached, but he could make out a bit of a muscle knot developing where previously there hadn’t been the slightest bulge no matter how hard he’d flexed. He had to concentrate mightily to see it, squinting his eyes only inches from the mirror, but there was no denying the tiniest of bumps had arisen.
And he’d Teddy Tattoo to thank for it. Teddy had encouraged him to try his hand at lifting some weights one day after they’d had a swim. And as Dapper Desmond wasn’t around at the time to make fun of his efforts, Needles had had a go. He was all but exhausted from having done five and a quarter lengths of the pool, but he was determined to make it six on his next attempt. Then build up the lengths until he’d wipe the smile off Dapper’s face when the day came that he could match him length for length. At least, that was Needles long-term plan. He knew it wasn’t going to happen overnight. So he accompanied Teddy to the gym when he’d made the suggestion.
Big mistake. Needles told himself he should have gone to his room and had a bit of a lie down instead. At first he though Dapper had to be in on it. That he’d casually mentioned to Teddy to bring Needles along sometime when he was working out himself. Get him to pump some iron, build up his stamina, etc, etc, etc. Needles could picture Dapper giving Teddy some guff about Needles wanting to have a shot at it, but was too nervous to try on his own. And seeing as Needles admired Teddy so much, it would be better coming from him. Needles was convinced it was another of Dapper’s practical jokes at his expense when he tried to get one of those thingamajigs with the circular discs on it off the floor.
It wouldn’t budge. Either someone had super-glued it in place or soldered it into position. Needle’s spine almost snapped in half with the effort. It wouldn’t move even when he tried to roll it forward with the sole of his gym shoe. The discs or wheels or whatever they were remained stationary. Needles looked around, expecting to see Dapper spring out from behind wherever he was hiding, shaking with laughter at this latest stunt he’d pulled off at Needles expense. But all he saw was Teddy lying on something resembling a padded surfboard, muscles bulging in his gigantic arms as he hoisted a bar with weights on it which were enormous in comparison to the ones on the floor Needles had been struggling with. Teddy held the bar stationary above his head for about sixty seconds, then began to treat it like it was an inverted yo-yo or something, lowering, hoisting, lowering, hoisting, all accomplished with such sleek economy which made it appear as though both bar and weights were fashioned from cardboard. His arm muscles rippled like wavelets, making his tattoos look as though they were alive.
Needles had sat down on a treadmill and watched him for a while, pondering on the joke nature had played on him when it was allocating physiques. He’d been given a string-bean body, a face that would easily get him a job haunting a house, the stamina of a clapped-out banger, plus the athleticism of a cellophane bag stuffed with elastic bands. Needles had resigned himself to these facts long ago, but it still bugged him as he watched Teddy go through his paces. Granted, he had made minor improvements in the swimming pool. Again, it had been Teddy who’d urged him to participate there.
*
The first time he’d eased himself into the water at the shallow end, he was pleasantly surprised to find its temperature to his liking. He’d half-expected to turn blue with the iciness the white tiles below the surface gave the illusion of, but the warmth which surged around his waist before he waded in up to his chest was very encouraging indeed. Needles had launched himself forward enthusiastically. He’d forgotten how long it had been since he’d employed his unique swimming stroke whilst out of his depth. It was at least twenty years ago. The only water Needles had been partial to since then had been in a shower or bath.
In his early teens, Needles and his pals used take to the stagnant waters of the canal adjacent to the rundown housing estate in which they lived. On a hot summer’s day, when the shone beat down from a cloudless blue sky, they’d indulge themselves in the luxury of competing for room with the floating carcass of a dead cat or dog, allied to the clutter of general debris bobbing about the filthy water. The deepest spots were the most popular. These were at the bridges. It was a point of honour to plunge in headfirst and somehow scramble your way from bank to bank. Either you made it across or disappeared into the depths to perhaps become entangled in weeds and heaven knows what else lurking at the bottom. It was really a case of do or die, and it was in the canal where Needles had learned it preferable to imitate a windmill than suffer the more hazardous alternative. Some of his braver pals jumped in from the tops of the bridges, yelling for clearance below first, then came hurtling down, sending dirty water skywards as though it were lava erupting from a volcano. Needles, however, was happy to remain struggling from bank to bank, thankful each time he made the far side without sinking like a brick.
In the nice warm swimming pool of the hideaway that first day Needles decided to follow Teddy’s advice, he cursed and spluttered and sucked in enough chlorinated water to sink a ship as he strove to keep afloat. What keep running through his mind as he battled not to drown was all that nonsense people sprouted about swimming and riding a bike, and the fact that once you knew how, you never lost either skills.
As soon as he’d thrown himself forward, Needles immediately regretted it, but had no choice but to keep going. He was afraid that if he attempted to turn back, he’d disappear to make closer acquaintance with the white tiles down below. In the canal, it had been fast-forward with all the power at your command. No fancy stuff like a lot of the other guys could do without even seeming to try. Needles eventually made it to the far end of the swimming pool after one of the toughest battles of his life. As he clung to the safety rail, Teddy looked down at him approvingly.
‘Well done, Needles,’ he said. ‘And no need to worry. I was watching you all the way. Any problems, I was here to fish you out.’
Needles had been too exhausted to reply. He gasped a bit instead, waving one weary arm in acknowledgement. He was thinking, ironically, of course, it was only terrific to have had an audienc
e in the first place. He’d nearly have preferred to drown than have anyone there to witness his inept efforts at self-preservation. But he’d made it just the same, and Teddy’s words had given him a curious sense of satisfaction, even if their contents sounded to Needles a bit of a contradiction. But he knew Teddy didn’t mean them that way. Teddy was many things, some of them too complex and frightening to dwell upon, but he wasn’t into laughing at other people’s expense. Not like some Needles could bring to mind without having to think too hard about it.
*
When Teddy had completed his effortless pumping, he placed the bar on a stand over his head and eased himself to his feet. Needles was still sitting on the treadmill, looking forlorn. Which was his natural expression, but Teddy’s keen eyes noticed his little ferret face was even more puckered than usual.
‘What’d wrong, Needles?’ he asked. ‘Why aren’t you working out?’
‘Because,’ Needles replied, nodding towards the bar he’d been trying to shift, ‘that thing’s stuck to the ground.’
Teddy gave it a nudge with his bare foot. ‘No, it’s not,’ he said, as the bar rolled a few feet along the wooden floor, the weights clanking against each other. ‘See?’
‘Well, it might as well be as far as I’m concerned.’
‘That’s because it’s too heavy for you.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘You should have taken some of them off,’ Teddy said, kneeling and removing most of the heavier weights. ‘No one would expect you to grapple with that big a load on your first attempt. Now try it.’
‘I thought they were wheels,’ Needles sighed, getting up and looking down at the bar on which Teddy had left only one small weight at either end. ‘Give it a handle and it could have passed for a scooter.’
‘Bend your knees,’ Teddy instructed as Needles stood over the bar, drawing in a few deep breaths just like he’d seen those muscle-bound mountains doing on the telly at the Olympic Games before descending on the bar. ‘Then easy does it. If it’s still too much for you, we’ll start with just the bar itself.’
And that’s exactly what they had to do until Needles felt confident enough to try it with a couple of kilos at either end. Teddy’s patience with him was unbelievable. They’d built it up gradually, Teddy giving more time to Needles progress than to his own workouts. There was a lot of wobbling involved along the way. Sometimes, the bar went crashing to the floor, narrowly missing slicing off a couple of Needle’s toes. Or sometimes Teddy averted embarrassment by steadying the bar with one massive hand while Needles swayed this way and that, looking as though he was caught in a powerful crosswind and wasn’t sure which way to lean. But when Needles was able to workout on his own under a total of twelve kilos, he felt so proud of himself, he didn’t care any time Dapper came into the gym and saw him at it. Teddy had fixed that problem too.
The first time Dapper did see him, he doubled up laughing. ‘You want to mind you don’t strain yourself there, Needles,’ he spluttered, bending and jerking a massively laden bar up to his chest, then over his head, holding it aloft for about thirty seconds, before letting it bounce back on the floor. ‘A fly lands on one end of that thing, you’re gonna topple over.’ He laughed again, then repeated his bend and jerk, this time easing the bar down on to the ground as though it was as light as air. ‘A wimp like you’s gonna wind up with a couple of broken wrists you keep heaving heavy loads like that.’ He laughed again. ‘Say, I got an idea. Maybe if I take a shot of you with my digital, we could send it to Muscle Magazine, see if they might put you on the front cover.’
‘Why don’t you put a cork in it, Desmond,’ a soft voice fluttered into Dapper’s ear from behind him. ‘And mind your own business for a change.’
Dapper swung around, his mood altering from mirth to anger in the split second it took him to turn.
Whoever was giving him lip like that was gonna find out pretty darned quick they weren’t dealing with no pushover, Dapper thought to himself, as he prepared to deal with whoever it was thought they could tell him what he could and couldn’t do. Nobody was gonna interfere with his taking it out on Needles whenever he felt like it. He’d shove the guy’s teeth down his throat for openers, then unscrew his head. After that, who knows? Whoever it was had lipped him sounded like a girl, anyway. Probably one of the cissies from catering.
‘Who said that?’ Dapper snapped, seeing nobody behind him, ‘You taking ventriloquist lessons or something?’ he demanded, turning his attention back to Needles. ‘You sure could do with something to make you lighten up a little.’ His good humour returned as he surveyed Needles normally pallid face suffused with colour from his exertions. ‘Right now you look like a red lollipop strayed in here by mistake.’
‘I’m not going to tell you again, Desmond,’ the same quiet voice came from behind him, this time with an undertone of menace which went a long way to making Dapper’s blood chill in spite of himself.
Still, he thought, nobody’s gonna - -.
It was then Teddy stepped out from behind a screen where he’d been drying himself off after taking a shower. He had his track suit bottoms on and was towelling his shaven head. His bare chest was still wet, beaded in droplets of water which made his tattoos glisten in the artificial light. He casually strolled towards Dapper, dabbing his chest with the towel, his expression so inscrutable as to make his face appear as though it had been carved from granite. He halted a yard away from Dapper and slung the towel over one massive shoulder, looking down into his face. Dapper glared back at him with that thousand-yard stare he’d used so many times during his prison stretches to intimidate anyone who needed reminding about who was cockof-the-walk. Trouble was, it didn’t seem to be having any effect on Tattoo from about three feet away. Dapper doubted it would bother him from any distance, but, hey, it was always worth a shot.
Teddy’s soft tones never altered an iota as he asked, ‘You did hear what I said, Desmond?’
Dapper blinked first. ‘Yeah, sure, no problem. Me and Needles, we were just having a laugh. That right, Needles?’
Needles ignored him, seeing as he wasn’t in any position to give him an unmistakable sign involving his fingers. Not when his hands were still firmly wrapped around the bar he was holding over his head. But he was still enjoying listening to Dapper having his clock cleaned.
‘You’re not a nice person, Desmond,’ Teddy told him in the same even voice, ‘and if I ever hear you poking fun at my friend again, I’ll be forced to make you regret it.’
Needles tried to smile, but the effort of continuing with his exercising put paid to any hope of that. However, he was chortling inside. Teddy was so polite about the whole thing, it was an absolute wheeze. And marking Dapper’s card for him in such a positive way, well, that really made Needles day. Officially, he was now Teddy’s friend. Got that, Dapper? Things just kept getting better all the time.
*
Now, standing in front of the wardrobe mirror, admiring the knot in his string of an arm, Needles couldn’t help grinning his twisted ferret grin when he recalled Dapper’s handsome face clouding over with suppressed rage as he exited stage left from the gym that day. See how you like that, Mr. Bigmouth, now that you’ve got Teddy to contend with. No contest. Even Dapper had more sense than to tangle with Teddy. Maybe at last, Needles thought to himself, I’ll have a bit of peace and quiet, and - -.
Something went flying by the window behind Needle’s back. He distinctly saw it in the wardrobe mirror. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, then wheeled around and rushed over to the window, staring out. Holy - - - ! He still didn’t believe it. Was this another of the Boss’s defensive ploys to scare away unwanted visitors nobody had bothered to tell him about?
Then it disappeared into the trees and was lost from sight.
*
At precisely the same time as Needles was staring through his bedroom window, Myles Moran was reading the contents of an email he’d requested and just received from the ban
k he’d designated the ransom money to be transferred to. So far, his demands hadn’t been met. He checked his wristwatch. It was precisely two o’clock, another ten hours till midnight, the deadline.
His private office was in an isolated part of the house. It was a small, compact room, accessible to by means of his thumbprint on an electronic pad fixed to the outside door, the pad sealed in a protective steel box which only opened upon hearing the distinctive voice of Myles himself ordering it to, Open Sesame. Once through the first door, it automatically locked behind him. Myles then repeated the process, intoned a different password before the second door allowed him entrance. Once inside his office fortress, again the locking procedure came into place.
Myles decided he’d give them another three hours maximum. He emailed the bank back instructing them to inform him if the transfer had reached them by five. After that, he might have to remind the Minister of Justice yet again of his obligation in the matter. He’d already ordered Mr. Tattoo to bring his special talent into play and wipe forever from the memories of the hostages the faces of himself and all of those in his employ. Myles sincerely hoped that would be all that would be necessary when this particular business endeavour had reached its conclusion. That was entirely up to the government. They could hardly complain should he be forced to carry out his threat if they didn’t stick to their end of the bargain. After all, as he’d pointed out to Mr. Dawson, he had his reputation to consider. A pity if it came to that, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made to safeguard future enterprises.