Killing Time

by John Kerr

  ‘Okay?’ he finally asked.

  ‘No problems. There were two targets after all, and they never heard a thing. Old Bob gets it right again, eh! Christ, that’s another drink I’ll have to buy him,’ Jake said nonchalantly.

  ‘Good work,’ answered Peter.

  ‘We should be at the brickwork about midnight. Do you want to get your head down? It may be a long night.’

  ‘Fuck off, I’ve slept all day. I’m a nighthawk, don’t you know. Tell you what, put some music on,’ Jake said, reaching for the radio switch. As the radio burst into life he added, with a wry smile,

  ‘They had a good station on in there, some good sounds - I should have checked what station it was before I left.’

  Peter just shook his head slowly and said nothing. One hour and fifty minutes later they approached the old brickwork. Jake checked his watch…11.40 p.m.

  ‘Christ, I’m going to have to get a move on. Time’s getting on, hope I don’t get lost,’ he said, as they turned into the long-deserted brickworks.

  Peter smiled as he slowed the Land Rover and stopped at the far end of the works. They were at the point furthest away from the main gate and as he pulled the hand brake on Jake was out and had opened the back door. He quickly fastened his belt around his waist, his old ammo pouches filled to the brim with goodies. They would, as always, sustain him through the night. The rucksack, which was always filled with his survival gear, was thrown over his shoulder. The quick release clips were pulled tight which made the pack jump high up on his back, the way he always liked it. Jake banged the back door and walked back to Peter, the light from inside the vehicle lighting up the whole area. Jake stood in the light and jumped up and down as his gear suddenly settled. It all went quiet.

  ‘Have you got everything you need?’ asked Peter. He watched Jake grab at the two top pockets of his jacket, the colour suddenly draining from his face…

  ‘Fuck,’ Jake said quietly,

  ‘What?… What have you lost?’ asked Peter.

  ‘The photo… the fucking photo… her photo, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Jake could hardly contain his anger and he slammed his hand against the side of the car. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ he said again, as he gave a sigh and dropped his head. Jake was mad more with himself than anything or anyone else. He had rushed out of the door without thinking clearly; slowly he lifted his head and looked at Peter.

  ‘Want to go back for it?’ said Peter.

  Jake was deep in thought. What would it be like out there without her picture? Without his talisman - would it affect him in any way? He thought long and hard. Finally Jake shook his head.

  ‘Fuck it! If she’s not in here, mate, she’s not anywhere.’ Jake slapped his hand on his chest directly above his heart.

  ‘Anyway, I have always got this.’ He held out his hand and Peter could see a very small silver heart fixed to Jake’s compass.

  ‘May I?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure,’ said Jake. Peter lifted it delicately and examined it closely.

  ‘I take it you were given this by your best friend.’

  Jake was staring at Peter’s hand, slightly lost in his own thoughts.

  ‘What you have there, mate, is the only thing I have that she gave me to keep. It’s my official talisman. Every now and then she used to check that I still had it, and now it’s all that’s left.’ Jake slowly lifted the heart and compass from Peter’s hand and very carefully replaced them in his jacket pocket. There were a few moments silence until Jake pulled himself together and said.

  ‘Okay, if there are any problems either way we’ll get in touch.’ He held an imaginary phone up to his ear.

  ‘Good luck, mate,’ said Peter.

  ‘Yeah!’ Jake replied, as he closed the door and headed off into the dark night. Peter watched closely as Jake slowly made his way towards the back of the disused buildings that were surrounded by an eerie silence. Then suddenly and quietly Jake Silverman disappeared into the undergrowth and was gone.

  FIFTY-ONE

  Justin glanced at his watch. 6.45p.m. He tapped the small table at the side of his chair impatiently.

  ‘By the time we get there it will be time to start back,’ he shouted, not bothering whether she heard him or not.

  ‘It’s only a few days we are going for,’ his voice dropped to a whisper,

  ‘Not a whole bloody week.’ He slowly shook his head and gave up trying. Vicky entered the room and rubbed her hands through her hair.

  ‘There, all ready… did you say something, babe?’ She asked.

  ‘No, no, not a thing,’ Justin quipped as he got up and stepped towards the door.

  ‘Everything is in the car, let’s go.’

  ‘Right, I’ll just get my jacket. I’ll lock up and be out directly.’ A few minutes later they were in the car and looking forward to the next few days. They drove slowly through the village; it was emptier than usual. Vicky felt relaxed and content, they deserved some time off, some time away, and both were looking forward to it. Through the market square, past the pub and out of the town - everything felt good, everything felt fine, although they failed to notice the dark-coloured van following closely behind. Their little world of contentment, the little bubble that surrounded them, was just about to burst with a ferocity neither could ever have contemplated nor thought possible.

  At the top of the ridgeline Justin swung the car onto the crest of the hill. It had been the most beautiful day, the sky had been crystal clear and now as twilight approached the red sky only served to wash contentment over both of them. They drove for the next half-hour, saying little. Vicky watched the countryside slowly drift passed her window and her eyes fell on the hills far away in the distance. She could barely help herself as her thoughts turned to Jake. Was he up there? Was he pushing himself too hard? Was he all alone? But most importantly, was he alright?

  Suddenly Justin screamed…

  ‘Vicky!!!!!!’

  A car swerved in front of them as they crossed the small bridge beside the Lear croft bird sanctuary. Justin jerked the vehicle to the right and veered over to the other side of the small road, narrowly missing a large tree. They crashed into the ditch, both of them thrown forward in their seats. They were only saved from serious injury as the inertia mechanism in their seat belts kicked in. The engine died immediately and within a split second both doors had been pulled open and very strong hands dragged them out onto the ground.

  Vicky felt the cold steel of the pistol as it was pressed hard into the back of her neck.

  ‘Justin!’ she cried, but heard only a muffled sound as her lover was dragged bodily towards the waiting car. She lifted her head towards him only to see two large men and she watched as they bound his hands and feet with tape and gagged him before unceremoniously bundling him into the boot.

  ‘Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me,’ she said sheepishly, as she slowly closed her eyes and felt them fill with tears.

  The sound of a second vehicle approaching jolted her back to reality, and as her eyes opened she saw a large man standing at the back of Justin’s car. He looked straight at the driver and without speaking pointed at Vicky before walking to the car holding Justin. He jumped in the back, with two others in the front, and the car quickly drove off.

  She was going to die… They were going to kill her. The thought was the only thing in her head. The van was about to run her over when she heard the front wheels lock and it slid to a halt, throwing small stones in her face. Before she had time to think she was man-handled into the back. When they tied her, she didn’t know. The back doors slammed shut and took away what light there had been. She was plunged into a dark world she neither knew nor liked. She was terrified. The van rumbled on. Where were they taking her? What were they going to do? What had they done with Justin?

  Vicky felt the road beneath the van and every pothole in it, every bump; there was a damp smell around and a heavy odour of oil and petrol. It seemed an eternity before the noise stopped as the engine was turn
ed off. She felt the air rush in as the doors were wrenched open. It was very dark and two pairs of large hands grabbed at her and lifted her small frame from her tomb. Vicky’s feet hit the ground hard. She tried desperately to lift herself upright but a hand gripped the back of her head, pulling at her hair. The man dragged her towards the open door; she stumbled on the step and fell to the floor. She groaned and felt the tears as they streamed from her eyes, her legs hurt, her head hurt, she hurt all over. Would this ever end?… What did they want?… What were they going to do?…

  Suddenly she was faced with the worst nightmare possible to any woman… No, surely not! She felt the hand on her hair grip tighter as the man rubbed his other hand over her breasts. She heard him laugh. She was being dragged towards a room that had a light on, but still her head was being forced down towards the floor… ‘Click’… Everything plunged into darkness and she heard the heavy boots of her assailant as he walked over to the corner of the room. The floor shook under their combined weight as he dragged her behind him. He lifted her with very little effort. Vicky felt her feet leave the ground momentarily and then suddenly the corner of the darkened room came up to meet her. It came at her so fast that it took the wind completely out of her…Crash! She slumped back to the floor with a groan… ‘Click’ …The flashlight blinded her and she covered her face with her hands. She listened, terrified there were people there with her - she could feel them but couldn’t see into the light. Then a big voice boomed out.

  ‘Right, Justin, my son, this is what’s going to happen… You’re going back into town with a few of the lads here. We are going to your bank and we are going to make a withdrawal. Now, while you are away this little lady of yours is going to stay here and entertain me and perhaps the rest of the boys. Now, not to put too fine a point on it, the longer you are away, the more entertaining your little Vicky will have to be, okay? No need to answer, but just remember this… Some of the guys want to kill her anyway and when they get bored they may just do that. So let’s not hang about, right?’ The voice bore a heavy South African accent.

  Vicky couldn’t believe what she was hearing from behind the bright light. She could just about make out a number of ghostly figures and there in the centre was Justin, sitting in a wooden chair. The man beside him had pulled his head back and had forced him to look at her. He released his grip on Justin and slowly walked over and kneeled down beside her. Without warning he pulled at her clothing. Vicky almost choked as his foul breath covered her face and she heard his very strong South African accent again fill the room.

  ‘Come on then, little lady, let’s see what you’ve got hidden in here.’ They struggled as he began a relentless attack she knew she could never defeat. Nevertheless, she fought like she’d never fought before, kicking and screaming… he was hitting her, and after what seemed like a lifetime she felt her energy evaporate as he forced himself upon her. Justin was made to watch until it was all over then heard the South African say,

  ‘Okay, go and say bye, bye to your sweetheart.’ Justin was brutally manhandled and thrown out of his chair through the air, and landed at her feet. Vicky was sobbing uncontrollably. She grabbed hold of Justin and pulled him close to her. They both trembled with uncontrollable fear as Justin slowly lifted his mouth to her ear.

  ‘I’m going to do exactly as they say, baby,’ he whispered

  ‘I want this over as quickly as possible.’

  Vicky was unable to answer; she simply nodded her head as Justin was ripped from her grasp again and bundled out through the open door and back to the waiting car. Panic gripped her … she could see two shadows beyond the light, sitting at the far end of the room. One of them rocked the chair slowly back and forward.

  ‘Well, little lady, what can be do while we wait for your boyfriend to return?’ The South African drawl in his voice was unmistakable.

  ‘What can we do to pass the time?’ he said, in the darkest voice Vicky had ever heard.

  ‘Please don’t hurt me!’ The words came out before she could stop them.

  ‘Hurt you?… My dear Vicky, you are dead already and so is your stupid boyfriend - as soon as he gives us what we want,’ the South African sneered.

  FIFTY-TWO

  Justin was thrown about in the boot of the car for how long he didn’t know. But it was obvious to him that the driver was very reckless as he threw the vehicle about till it finally ground to a halt and all became silent. It didn’t last long. The boot was thrown open and he was violently dragged out and tossed onto the tarmac of the small private car park at the rear of the bank. He groaned as he felt the large boot sink into his stomach as he was dragged towards the back door. Two muscular arms lifted him and he saw the face of his assailant up close for the first time. It was a round black face with a deep scar from the forehead to his cheek the guy’s breath was heavy with cigarette smoke and stale beer.

  ‘Okay, little man, we’ve been watching you long enough to know what you do every morning when you open up. So if you want no harm to come to your little woman, we suggest you just go through the same procedure as usual. Let us in, let us help ourselves and let us get away, and for all that we will give you back your sweetheart, and then everyone’s happy. Okay, sunshine?’ he said.

  Justin crumpled to the floor, breathless from the stamp on his stomach; it had knocked every ounce of air from his body. He reeled over onto his back as numerous blows rained down on him; the pain was almost unbearable. Suddenly he was lifted back onto his feet and thrown against the bank door.

  ‘Keys,’ the voice whispered into his ear.

  Justin fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the bank keys.

  ‘If you just let me have a few minutes I’ll get you inside as quickly as I can,’ Justin pleaded with his attackers.

  ‘We’ll give you no minutes and you’ll still get us inside… NOW!… Before I break your back, you fucking insignificant little weasel.’ The man pushed a gun deep into the small of Justin’s back as he turned the key… ‘Click’, lock number one opened. Justin quickly released the flap that held the security keypad. He felt the pistol pushed still harder against his back. The man said nothing. Justin quickly keyed in the correct number, turned the second key, pulled the handle down and pushed the door open.

  Justin felt the full weight of his captor push against him as they both crashed through the now open door and into the bank’s small rear corridor. Justin spun round and was looking directly down the barrel of a large handgun, the cold steel pressed hard against his face. These people were going to kill him! That was very obvious, even to him. Fear completely overwhelmed him and he knew it was only a matter of time.

  Minutes later the three men were busy filling bags with money. There was no panic about them - they appeared to be used to this kind of work. The bank was being systematically stripped of all large used bank notes. Bags full of money were now being piled against the office wall one by one.

  Justin knew it would be a number of hours before daylight and he hoped that they wouldn’t kill him just for the sake of it.

  One of the guys turned to Justin and, to his great surprise, asked if there was a kitchen where he could make a cup of tea.

  ‘Sure, I’ll show you if you want.’

  The man turned and waited for approval from the large rough-looking man with the pistol.

  ‘No problem, we are in no hurry. We’ve got all night and no one knows we are here.’

  Both Justin and his minder moved through into the kitchen and the tea was made.

  ‘Will you let us go free now that you have your money… don’t suppose there will be any reason now for hanging onto us?’ said Justin.

  The man slowly turned towards him and shook his head.

  ‘What do you think, Mr Bank Manager?’

  Justin could feel the terror grip his insides.

  ‘What?’ said Justin, forcing the word out.

  The man said nothing for what seemed an age then put the milk down on the table before turning to Justi
n and laughing.

  ‘Look, it’s like this, friend. You and your little lady were never going to get out of this alive. Both of you were always going to end up lying face down in a ditch somewhere out there. It’s just one of those things - don’t take it personally. In fact, I’ll be very surprised if your girlfriend hasn’t already been dealt with one way or another - if you know what I mean.’

  Justin dropped his head and his thoughts turned to Vicky… Christ, she’s still up there with those animals. He felt an immediate feeling of guilt for leaving her there on her own. He knew deep down there was nothing more he could have done for her, but it still didn’t make him feel any better. Justin and the man retuned to the others. Justin slumped in the nearest corner, just wanting to be left on his own. Let them get on with it, he thought. The minutes dragged past as his captors worked slowly and methodically. Justin’s thoughts drifted back to poor Vicky. Christ, the South African had raped her; the image kept jumping into his head, over and over again. The bastard… Justin covered his sorrowful face with his hands. This was the worse nightmare ever… would anyone come to their aid? Would anyone know they were prisoners? The clock on the wall said 12.30 a.m. No one would be looking for them for days. This could drag out indefinitely. The thought sent a cold shiver through his entire body, and he rolled up into an even tighter ball and passed out.

  FIFTY-THREE

  1.10 a.m. Jake was armed and ready… he had retrieved his gear stashed in the rocks and was pushing hard towards Abaline Moor. Tonight was darker than it had been for a very long time and he skirted round the hilltops to save time and energy. It would also keep him out of the woods and the bog, which he now knew lay in wait for the unsuspecting walker. But this time he was completely switched on and focused. Jake was back at work and pushing out a terrific pace as the kilometres fell away.