Fear of the Fathers: The Reiki Man Trilogy

by Dominic C. James

  “I don’t want to,” said Tracy. “I want to stay up here and read.”

  Her sister walked over to the bed and grabbed her by the hair. “You’re coming downstairs whether you like it or not you little bitch. Now, move it!”

  Tracy stumbled down the stairs still in her sister’s iron grip. They bypassed the kitchen and living room and headed straight for the cellar. The fusty smell hit her immediately and violated her throat with its sickening connotations. Her father was sat on his ancient brown leather armchair wearing the same sadistic smirk he always did. She called it his ‘cellar smile’, and it meant only one thing to Tracy, and that was pain and humiliation.

  “Has she been a good girl?” her father asked Fiona.

  “No Daddy, she hasn’t,” she replied.

  “Does she need to be taught a lesson?”

  “Yes Daddy.”

  He got out of his seat and unbuckled his belt. Fiona dragged Tracy to the workbench and shoved her on it face down, holding her wrists tightly so she couldn’t move; thankful that it was no longer her receiving the attention. Tracy struggled and kicked, but her sister was just too strong. Then it began. She started to weep as the cold, clammy fingers ran up her thigh and hitched her skirt onto her lower back. She kicked out as he dragged her knickers to her knees.

  “Don’t struggle my dear,” he said calmly. “You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

  “Leave me alone!” she screamed. “Leave me alone! Mum!”

  “No-one can hear you. Your mother isn’t here. And remember what will happen if you tell her.”

  His hands ripped her legs apart and she drifted away into a sea of dark dreams…

  …Annie shot upright. The television was blaring, and some young college girl was about to be stabbed by a man in a hockey mask. She eyed the clock in a panic, but soon realized she’d only been out for a quarter of an hour. She got up and made a sweep of the windows and doors, before a brief check on her captives in the basement. Satisfied that everything was okay, she downed the rest of her coffee and made herself another much stronger one. There would be no more sleep for her tonight.

  Chapter 113

  Inside 10 Downing Street Stone and Davis had finished their shift, and were sharing a post-work whisky in Davis’ quarters. It had been a long and hectic day, with the Prime Minister flitting between public appearances and emergency meetings. The leadership challenge had thrown him into a state of fear and turmoil, and no-one, not even his wife, had been immune to his ensuing foul temper.

  “What a fucking day!” said Davis. “Forget about assassination attempts – I could have killed the cunt myself. Nobody speaks to me like that! Nobody!”

  “He’s under a lot of pressure,” said Stone stoically.

  “Yeah, I know. But there’s no need to be so shitty to us. It’s not our fault.”

  “No, it’s not. But he’s only human. You know what he’s like – he’ll be all apologies tomorrow. Just forget about it, it’s not that important.”

  Davis sparked up a cigarette. “What’s up with you?” he asked. “Usually you’d be the first one to lay into him. Come to think of it, you’ve been wandering around like a lost fucking sheep all day. It’s a good job nothing happened.”

  “Just shut the fuck up will you!” screamed Stone, slamming his glass down on the desk and towering over Davis. “I’ve had enough of your whining you old fuck! You’re paid to do a job, so just fucking well do it!”

  For the first time ever in their friendship Davis was genuinely scared. He’d never before heard his partner raise his voice, let alone produce a tirade like this. He leant back in his chair with his hands in submission. “Sorry mate,” he said, meekly.

  Stone backed off and sat down. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not your fault. Something’s happened.”

  “What?”

  “If I tell you you’ve got to swear not to do anything behind my back, okay?”

  “Of course not mate.”

  “It’s Tracy Tressel, or Annie Steele, or whatever you want to call her.”

  “What about her?” asked Davis.

  “She’s got Patricia and Jenny.”

  “What!?” exclaimed Davis. “How the fuck has that happened?”

  “I don’t know, but it has. She phoned me earlier today when we were in the car.”

  “Well, what are we doing sitting here! Let’s go and find them. Phone up the Yard!”

  Stone put his hand on Davis’ arm. “No! We can’t do anything. I know where they are – they’re at the house, in the basement. But if anyone tries to get in there then she’s going to kill them.”

  “We could get the SAS to storm the place.”

  “It’s a nice idea, but no,” said Stone. “If she even senses the slightest thing wrong then they’re dead – and I believe her. I’m not risking their lives.”

  “What does she want?”

  “She wants me. She wants me to go there on my own tomorrow morning.”

  “And you’re going to follow her demands?”

  Stone demolished his whisky. “I have to,” he said. “I’ve got no choice.”

  Chapter 114

  Bullets continued to fly all around. Jennings was crouched behind a rock, gun in hand, waiting for a chance to return fire. Stella and Jimi had made it to the trees and were shooting haphazardly at the unseen enemy on the opposite bank. Stratton lay face down on the bridge. Jennings was unable to tell if he was dead or alive.

  “Stratton!” he shouted. “Stratton! Are you okay?!”

  “Yeah! I’m great! I can’t fucking well move though! Are those bastards ever going to stop shooting?!”

  “I doubt it! We’re going to have to get to the trees!”

  Stratton reached up to Tali’s body and started to remove his backpack. He freed it and slid backwards using it as a shield. Jennings followed suit with his own. They made it to the safety of the trees unharmed.

  “Who the hell are they?” said Jennings.

  “You’re guess is as good as mine,” said Stratton. “But at the moment it doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here. Do you reckon we can lose them, Jimi?”

  Jimi shrugged. “It depends who they are,” he said. “If they have a good tracker with them then it is going to be difficult. But nobody knows this place like me – apart from Tali of course…” He hung his head.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about your brother,” said Stratton.

  Jimi’s head shot up. “Yes. Thank you,” he said. “But this is no time for mourning is it? We must get along before they cross the bridge. Come on, follow me.”

  He led them down a narrow path in the trees, forcing a pace that would have been crippling even without their luggage. Stella and Jennings marched on resolutely, but Stratton began to lag behind. Eventually Jennings felt he had to do something.

  “Jimi!” he yelled. “We need to stop!”

  Jimi turned round to see what the fuss was about.

  “It’s Stratton,” said Jennings. “He’s falling behind.”

  They stopped and waited while Stratton made up the ground. Stella could tell just by looking at him that there was no way he could carry on much further. His shoulders were slumped, his face was almost transparent with sweat, and his legs were weaker than a newborn foal’s.

  “We can’t go on like this,” said Stella. “We’ve got to stop for a while.”

  “No,” said Stratton, firmly. “We’ve got to carry on. I’ll be fine. I’ll get a second wind.”

  Jimi thought for a moment. “I know a place where we can rest, but we have to get off the jungle path right now.”

  Without another word he darted into the undergrowth and beckoned them with his hand. Stella followed behind, then Stratton, with Jennings taking up the rear. Titan padded along beside them, making light of the sticky terrain. The surrounding flora became gradually darker and heavier until there came a point where Stella felt there was no way through. It was then that Jimi dived to the ground. He removed h
is backpack, pushed it through a tiny gap in the wall of plant life, and slithered through after it. The others duplicated the manoeuvre, and quickly found themselves in a small clearing surrounded by impenetrable foliage.

  “We should be safe here for a while,” said Jimi. “Tali and I found it by accident many years ago. For some reason nothing grows here.”

  Stratton flopped to the ground and lay there with his eyes closed, and hands behind his head. Stella sat beside him and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry about Oggi,” she said. “I’m going to miss him. We all will. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “No. But he is, and there’s nothing we can do about it. And as Jimi says – this isn’t the time to grieve.”

  Stella forced him to sit up and drink some water. “Are you going to be alright?” she said. “I really think you should consider going back to safety. There’s no way you’re going to survive out here for another two weeks. Me and Jennings can go with Jimi and deliver the box.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Besides, there’s no way back now. I’ve got to go on whether I like it or not.”

  Whilst his charges rehydrated, Jimi hitched his way up a tall tree to get a view of the jungle path. The busy leaves gave him ample cover, and its height afforded him a wide panorama. He looked from side to side, scouring the path for any sign of their pursuers. For a while he saw nothing, but just as he was about to climb down he caught sight of a head bobbing up through the sea of green. As he squinted for clarity he noticed another three people behind, all of them heading towards the secret clearing. He shinned quickly down to warn the others.

  “We must go!” he shouted as he hit the ground. “They are on their way!”

  “How the hell do they know where we are?!” said Jennings.

  “It is Massa,” said Jimi. “They are with Massa.”

  “I thought he was your friend,” said Stella.

  “So did I. But there is no time to think about it, they will be here in five minutes. Come, we must return to the path.”

  Ninety degrees to the right of the hole through which they entered was another, slightly larger one. Jimi picked up his kit and hurtled through like a ferret. The others tagged on as best they could. Jennings was the last to leave, making sure Stratton didn’t get left behind.

  The going was more arduous than before with the brush closely woven and resilient like a spider’s web. But thanks to Jimi’s relentless efforts they steadily made their way through and, after an eternity of suffocating darkness, finally burst back onto the path.

  As soon as Jennings was out of the thicket Jimi raced on again.

  “Does he never get tired?” said Jennings to Stratton.

  “Apparently not.”

  After another five minutes march, Stratton’s exertions started to tell. He began to drop off the pace, and after a while had lost sight of Jimi and Stella. He staggered onwards blindly, kept up only by his mind and heart, his body having long since departed. He was about to drop when he felt Jennings’ hand stabilize him.

  “You’re going to have to stop mate,” he said. “You can’t go on like this.” He put his hand to his mouth and yelled. “Jimi! Stella!” There was no answer.

  “Leave me,” said Stratton, weakly. “Just take the box and catch up with the others.”

  “No fucking way Jose. I’m not leaving you behind. Come on, we’ll hide in the undergrowth and hope they pass us by.”

  With a superhuman effort he managed to drag Stratton and his backpack twenty feet into the ferns. There they stayed, quiet and motionless, waiting for their enemy to drift past. Titan joined them and lay his head in Stratton’s lap.

  “Well, it’s been good knowing you Jennings,” whispered Stratton. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s better than being in prison. Anyway, don’t talk like that, you’re not going to die. Even if you do I expect you’ll be back.”

  “Not this time mate.”

  “Well, we’re going to get out of it anyway, so there’s no need to worry. We’ve still got guns remember.”

  “No, no guns,” choked Stratton.

  “What do you mean ‘no guns’? How the hell are we going to defend ourselves? These people aren’t shooting for fucking fun you know.”

  “I know. But if you want to help me you’ve got to lay down your weapon.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Just trust me Jennings. There’s no time to explain. I’m not even sure myself at the moment.” He reached into his pack and pulled out the box. “You’ve got to take this and find the others.”

  “I told you before – I’m not leaving you.”

  The sound of raised voices began to filter through the air.

  “Listen,” said Stratton. “They’re nearly here. You’ve got to go…now! If you really want to help you’ve got to leave me here. The box is more important. Don’t worry about me, I’m well-hidden in these ferns.”

  Jennings took the box reluctantly. “I don’t like it,” he said. “It feels like desertion.”

  “Just go,” said Stratton. “And remember – no guns. You have to promise me.”

  Jennings stowed the box safely in his backpack and gave Stratton one last look. “Okay,” he said. “No guns. I promise.”

  “Good,” whispered Stratton. “Now fuck off.”

  They exchanged a brief smile and Jennings crept swiftly back to the path. The voices were louder now, and sounded as if they were almost upon him. He scooted out onto the path and sprinted after Stella and Jimi. Behind him the voices clamoured and shots rang out. He hoped they were for him and not Stratton. A bullet pinging off a tree to his side quickly gave him his answer. Instinct screamed at him to turn and retaliate, to jump into the brush and pick them off one by one. But Stratton’s voice was ringing in his ears, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to break his promise.

  Drawing strength from a place he’d never been, he picked up his pace once more. The world was suddenly beautiful, lit up with heavenly colour. He floated off the ground insensible to the volatile world around him, hostile bullets vanishing into the ether. He was free, he was in the zone, he was at one with the cosmos…

  …He was tired, he was weary, he was flagging. His brief flirtation with God was over. His legs started to crumble and his body began to roll. The voices drew closer with every demoralizing second, and the guns grew louder with each soul-sapping step. With nothing left to give he turned round and raised his hands in surrender, accepting his fate stoically and breathlessly.

  But just then, as he prepared himself for capture or worse, a sweaty palm clamped his mouth and dragged him backwards into the bushes. He watched silently as the posse hurtled by.

  Chapter 115

  Stone parked his car on the driveway and walked up to the house. The sun was shining and his next-door neighbour was out front mowing the lawn. He waved and commented on the lovely weather. Stone reciprocated with some equally idle chitchat and moved swiftly along to the front door.

  The alarm was on and he typed in the code. The house was just as he’d left it the previous morning: no sign of a break-in; no sign of violence. There was also no sign of his wife or the laughter of his little girl.

  As instructed he made straight for the basement, his heart leaden with a fateful foreboding. The door creaked tellingly, echoing his own apprehension.

  “Come down slowly,” insisted a voice from below. “Hands behind your head, and no sudden movements.”

  He did as he was told, taking every step fastidiously, and watching calmly as he took in the scene. Patricia and Jenny were both strapped to chairs. They were blindfolded and gagged. Tressel was standing behind Jenny with a knife to her throat and an implacable darkness in her eyes.

  “Sit down there,” she ordered, nodding towards a chair in the corner. “And don’t say a fucking word, or the girl dies.”

  Stone obeyed, resisting the temptation to reassure his family with ho
peful words.

  “Right then,” said Annie. “There’s a pair of handcuffs on each arm of that chair. I want you to strap yourself in.”

  Stone opened his mouth to speak.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” said Annie. “But I don’t want excuses, just fucking do it!”

  Stone went through the logistics of his predicament and finally decided that the only way to comply was to cuff his left hand then rest the other restraint on his thigh, slip his wrist in, and close the manacle around with his chin. It proved easier than he imagined and within a minute he was done.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Now you’re going to take the place of these two. I’m going to come over there and strap you in. If you move a muscle then she’s dead.”

  “And if I play ball, you’ll let them go?”

  “Yes,” said Annie. “It’s you I want.”

  Stone sat still and allowed Annie to bind his legs to the chair. She then taped his wrists over the cuffs to make him more uncomfortable. Lastly she shoved a strip of cloth in his mouth and gagged him.

  “Now then,” said Annie. “It’s time for the suffering.” She walked slowly back to his wife and daughter and stood behind them flicking her knife nonchalantly. “Who should I do first?”

  Stone suddenly realized that she had no intention of letting his family go. She had drawn him into a sadistic trap and there was no way out. He struggled violently in his chair, hoping against hope that something, anything, would loosen.

  “I wouldn’t bother,” she said. “King Kong couldn’t get out of those bonds. It’s over.”

  Stone continued to writhe, but it soon became apparent that she was right. He gave up and stared angrily at her through sweaty, blurry eyes.

  “I’ll give you the choice,” said Annie. “Wife or daughter?”

  Stone hesitated, wondering for how long he could spin out the charade. Would there be enough time for Davis and the team to save them? He had instructed his partner to give him exactly half an hour; after that he had authorization to storm the building. Stone had completely lost track of the time though, he might have been down there twenty minutes, maybe just five or ten. Either way he had to try and stall the psycho for as long as possible.