Danny bit down on a gasp. Every face looked devoid of emotion, as if all hope had gone. All of them had large black panda eyes, as if they existed on very little sleep.
No way, man, he mouthed at Brother David, who gestured for him to follow. Silently, Danny did as he was bid. They walked to where the three girls were loading the boxes. No one looked at them except the guard. He followed them with his eyes, eyes that Danny could feel boring into his back.
He thought in the last forty-eight hours that he’d gone beyond terror, but this!
This couldn’t be happening.
This was England.
This sort of thing went on in third world countries, of this Danny had no doubt. You heard about it on the news. Everyone had heard of the sweatshops spread around the world. But not even those could be half as bad as this stink pit.
Not here. He shook his head in denial.
Not in England.
No way!
They stopped at the end of the table where the girls were stacking the boxes. Brother David pointed to two of them, both blondes. 'Come with me.'
Fear sprang to the dead faces. One of them, the smallest of the trio, with big blue eyes, started to cry.
'Shh.' Brother David gently patted her shoulder. He turned to Danny and nodded at the remaining girl. 'She will show you what to do.' Taking the two girls by their hands, both of them sobbing now as if they knew where they were going was even worse than this, Brother David, his shoulders slumped, walked away.
Danny stared at the girl. Her face was expressionless as she watched her two friends being led away.
He looked around once more at the sad, dead faces surrounding him, and knew he was truly in hell.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Securing the lock on the gate so that Tiny couldn’t escape, Smiler followed Aunt May out into the street. She needed to stock up on groceries, as four new guests were due tomorrow, and she’d commandeered Smiler to do the carrying. She and Smiler had had a long talk this morning, and Smiler had been able to tell her a little about his past, something he’d never been able to do before, not even to Mike.
It had made him feel a lot better about himself as Aunt May had stressed, over and over, than none of it was his fault, he had been a victim, and now it was time to put it all behind him. The other stuff she hadn’t mocked, telling him there were more things in heaven and earth, and if he believed he was really having visions, well, that was fine by her.
They entered the shop and Smiler picked up a basket, dropping it a moment later. He quickly shook his hand. It felt like he’d had an electric shock. He eyed the basket suspiciously, while cautiously he wrapped his fingers round the handles again.
Aunt May looked at him oddly, as she stood with two bags of sugar in her hands. He heaved a sigh of relief when nothing happened. Catching her eye, he gave a wan smile, then started following her around the shelves. When that basket was filled to overflowing, he took it to the front of the shop and placed it on the counter.
The shopkeeper stared at him, as he filled a knick-knack shelf with small snowstorm scenes of Holy Island. Smiler hurried back to Aunt May with another basket. He didn’t like the shopkeeper, he reminded him a little of Snakes, same mean, nasty little eyes. When Aunt May had filled the other basket, they both went to the front of the shop.
'Are you coming to the meeting tomorrow night?' the shopkeeper demanded. He looked at Aunt May over the rims of his glasses while he checked her shopping through his till.
'Not sure,' Aunt May replied, picking one of the snow scenes up and shaking it.
'Why?' he asked, as if it was a foregone conclusion that everyone on the island would be at the meeting in Berwick, and how dare this little old woman say otherwise.
Smiler glanced quickly at Aunt May.
She frowned at the shopkeeper. 'That’s my business, don’t you think?' She looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
'Well, if you care enough about the island, you’ll surely want to be there, I would have thought.'
'Why are you stirring things up?' she asked bluntly.
'Because it’s our heritage. The gospels belong here on Lindisfarne, not in London.' He scowled at her, his hand itching to snatch the snow scene off her.
'Well, guess I’ll have to think about it, then.' She put the snow scene as far out of his reach as possible, then paid cash for her shopping, gave him a haughty look, and they left.
'I don’t like him,' she said to Smiler, who was carrying the two heaviest bags. 'Don’t trust him either, that’s why I pay cash. He’s not getting his hands on my card.'
Smiler had never owned a card. What very little cash passed through his hands did just that – pass through in a hurry. 'Not too keen on him either, but what can he do with the card?'
'Ahh, see, they can trace the metal strip, and find out everything about you. I heard about it somewhere. They know what clothes you buy, what you eat, where you go, everything.'
'Who’s they?'
'You know. Them. The government.'
Smiler shrugged 'I don’t think so.' He hid a smile as he changed the bags over, so his left hand was carrying the heavier one, flexing the fingers of his right hand where the handles had dug in, as again he tried not to smile.
Aunt May was deeply into conspiracy theories and regularly talked to people of a like mind on the Internet. He’d found out that much last night, as Mike had gently teased her.
As they slowly walked back to the house, a dark-haired, heavy-set man, dressed in a cream suit, lilac shirt and tie, and smoking a huge fat cigar, passed them. Smiler felt a tingle start in his toes. He began to shake and dropped the bags. He leaned against the wall, sweat streaming from his brow.
'Are you all right, son?' Aunt May asked, her voice full of concern, then sighing as one of the bags of sugar spilled its contents onto the ground.
Smiler shook his head. He stared at the man’s back. He felt sick, and couldn’t explain why.
Aunt May followed Smiler’s eyes. 'He’s one of those foreigners up at the castle,' she whispered. They watched as he walked into the shop.
Aunt May took a roll of kitchen paper covered in blue flowers out of her carrier bag, tore it open and handed it to Smiler. Then she bent down to pick up the spilt shopping, glad that the only damage was the bag of sugar.
'Thanks,' Smiler said, tearing a piece off the kitchen roll and mopping his brow.
'What did you see?'
Smiler sighed. 'Nothing.'
'Nothing?’ she asked in dismay.
'A… a blackness.'
Disappointed, she said, 'I felt as if he was creepy.' She glanced quickly up the street, then back at Smiler.
Smiler nodded. 'Sometimes that’s all there is. Everything goes black. Other times, things come out of the blackness… terrible things.'
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Cassie had fought as hard as she could, managing to leave two large scratch marks on Maria’s face. But there had been two of them in the back of the car, and a rag filled with chloroform. She hadn’t stood a chance. Even now she was still groggy. The large room they were in kept swimming in and out of focus, and she had no recollection of how she’d got there. All she knew was that she was terrified, and wanted to go home. She wanted her mother’s arms around her, telling her she was safe.
A big man with long hair and a booming voice kept striding back and forth. Cassie squinted, and realised that what she had first thought was a long coat was actually a monk’s robe.
A monk!
Her heart lifted. Monks were good people.
Will he help me? she wondered.
Monks are good people.
He will, he must.
Filled with desperation, she tried to stand up to get his attention. Surely he can see me? He will help… Take me home.
Her efforts were wasted. She was forced back into her seat by someone behind her. Wriggling, she looked round.
A man with a heavily pockmarked face and a black moustache, who stank of
stale cigarette smoke, leaned forward and whispered in her ear. 'If you know what’s good for you, kid, you’ll keep very still and very, very quiet.' Roughly, he took hold of her head and forced it to the front.
'She is not the one you were supposed to bring.' The monk was talking to someone Cassie couldn’t see. She stared at him in fear. She could feel the man’s fingers digging into her head, and she was terrified to move. 'Where is the one you showed me?' the monk said, his voice rising.
'She… she wouldn’t come. I had to bring this one to fill the quota,' a woman replied, with a tremor in her voice that frightened Cassie even more.
'Huh,' he grunted, his lips curled in an arrogant snarl. 'How much does the other one know?'
'Nothing,' the woman said quickly. 'Nothing at all. The bitch just didn’t turn up when she was supposed to.'
'So you picked this one up off the street?'
'More or less.'
'Did she come quietly?'
'Yes, yes,' she answered quickly. 'I know her.'
'Good.' He swung his face to Cassie.
Terrified, Cassie began to sob, quietly at first, then with huge heart-rending gasps. 'Mum,' she whispered between sobs. 'Please take me home.'
Smiling, he walked over to her. 'This is your home now,' he said, as if she was an orphan and had found refuge in a storm. 'We will take care of you now.'
Horrified, she shook her head. 'No. I don’t want you to. I have a home.' She was shaking now, her pleas coming out in small gasps. 'Please,' she begged, 'let me go home…Please. Please. Please, I want to go home.'
He stroked her hair, each movement with gentle practised ease. 'Pretty.'
Her eyes bulging in fear, Cassie shivered under his touch. He laughed. 'Frightened little bird.'
'Get off me,' she managed to shout bravely, as she shook her head to get rid of his hand. He only laughed louder, his voice filling the room.
It was then she saw Maria. 'You!' she gasped. 'What have you done? Take me home. I want to go home right now. I want my mum.' She stamped her feet, only to have her right ankle kicked viciously by Tobacco Breath.
'You won’t ever see your mum again, little bird.' The Leader's voice mocked her before he turned to Maria. 'Not the one I wanted, but she’ll do. Put her to work.' He touched Cassie’s hair again. 'Bring her to me tomorrow night. I have business to sort out with that other lying scheming bitch tonight.'
Cassie struggled gamely, but the man behind pinned her arms at her side. 'Let me go,' she yelled, back-heeling him and catching his foot. In response, he pulled her hair hard, forcing her head back until her eyes were staring at the ceiling. Amused, the monk laughed as he moved back to her and stroked her neck, sending shivers of revulsion down her spine.
Brother David stepped out of the shadows, and bowed to The Leader, who barely acknowledged him. Taking a sobbing Cassie by the arm, he led her from the room.
She tried to shake Brother David off, looking wildly about for any means of escape when they walked down a long panelled hallway. 'What… what are you going to do with me?' she managed, between sobs. 'Why does he want me tomorrow night?'
Brother David, knowing exactly why the madman who was running their lives wanted this child, bit down on an angry retort. He wanted to yell at the panelled walls, rave at the ceiling. Nothing had prepared him for the living hell they had all endured for the last year. And here was another innocent.
His faith was sorely tried as he thought angrily, Where the hell are you, Mike Yorke?
Even though he was seething inside, he kept a calm exterior so as not to frighten her more. 'Don’t fret, child. Tomorrow is a long way off. Who knows what it will bring?'
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Mike and Kristina pulled up outside the nightclub. Before they got out of the car, Mike said, 'Forgot to say -- I like your hair that way.'
About to open the car door, Kristina paused, looked at him and shook her head. 'It took you two days to notice?'
'Well, no, I mean, it was really short before and now it’s long in a ponytail. Just saying you suit it, that’s all. You never could take a compliment, could you, Kristina?'
'You used to take plenty for the both of us.' She got out of the car and slammed the door, instantly regretting what she’d said, and knowing Mike didn’t deserve that. He was a little vain, but certainly not over the top. So, he flirted a little, but never when he was in a relationship. It’s me being a fool, acting as if the last four years hasn’t happened and we’re still together. God, I feel like such an idiot.
Oh dear, Mike was thinking as he followed her, said the wrong thing again. What the hell is it with her and Jill?
He caught up with her before they entered the double doors. 'So how’s Mr Kristina these days?' She gave him a look that would re- freeze the melting ice caps.
'What?'
'Don’t say you haven’t heard.'
Mike looked perplexed. 'Heard?'
She put her head down for a moment. Slowly lifting it, she met his eyes. 'Tim died over a year ago.'
'Oh… I’m sorry, Kristina, I swear I didn’t know.'
She sighed. 'I guess you didn’t, Mike. Sorry for snapping at you. But it was over before the first year was out, anyhow. There was nothing there. I realised more or less right off. Still, he was a good man, and it did break my heart when he died.' She sighed again. 'Should we go in now?'
Mike nodded as he opened the door. Putting aside until later what she’d just told him, he became all copper as he strode across the room. Reaching the bar, he took his badge out, and said to the barman and the pretty blonde waitress, 'DI Mike Yorke. Could you both spare me a minute to look at some pictures?'
The barman shrugged. 'No skin off my nose, mate, give us them here.' The waitress stepped close, and the pair studied the three photographs.
After a moment the waitress stepped back and shook her head. 'Never seen any of them before. But a lot of them look the same these days, don’t they? Same hair, same clothes.'
'Are you sure?' Kristina asked.
She shrugged. 'Can’t really say.'
'How about you?' Mike looked at the barman.
'Well...' He sucked his teeth for a moment, a habit Mike found annoying. 'I think I’ve seen the bloke in here before. Couldn’t tell you his name, though. But the girls look familiar, there’s a group of them, they generally sit together.' He gestured with his head towards the far right-hand side of the room. 'Over there.'
'What’s up?' The voice came from the far end of the bar, where a door marked Manager was half-open.
'It’s the cops,' the waitress said. 'Want to know if we’ve seen these people before.'
A bald man in a grey suit and a white T-shirt moved along the bar. Mike guessed that it was one of the bouncers. He nodded at Mike and Kristina as he picked up the photographs. A moment later, he put two of the photographs on the bar and handed the remaining one to Mike. 'This girl – a couple of nights ago, she ran out of here like a bat out of hell. No one followed her so, I guessed she must have had trouble at home and someone had given her a bell. The bloke, never seen him before. The other girl, probably.'
'OK. Know any names of the people she was with?'
The bouncer frowned. 'I’m sure they all knock around in a sort of gang, about half a dozen of them.'
Nodding his agreement, the barman snapped his fingers. 'Maria, that’s her name. She’s always in here. Lives not far from here, actually.'
'Do you know where?' Mike asked.
'Em... oh, bloody hell. Tell you what, if I write it down it’ll come to me. Funny sort of memory, if you know what I mean.' He pulled a small notebook out of the breast pocket of his shirt and started writing. He hesitated a moment, then carried on at full speed. With a flourish, he handed the note over to Mike. 'That’s it. I had to drop her home one night, she’d had one too many.'
Mike stared for a moment at the note, and thought, Shit. Looking up at the trio, he said, 'Thanks for your help.' Quickly, watched by three pairs of i
nquisitive eyes, he ushered Kristina out of the bar.
Kristina blinked in the bright sunlight. 'What’s all that about?'
'Get in the car.'
When they were both strapped in, Mike said, 'That piece of paper, where the hell is it?'
'I left it on your desk, in a plastic bag. Why?'
'God, why didn’t you remind me?'
'Mike, you couldn’t miss it.'
'I’ve never seen it. Must have dropped something on top of it.' He waited until a red Post Office van passed, then pulled out into the traffic.
Kristina shrugged. 'It’s meaningless, anyhow. Just a bunch of circles and squiggles. And it’s got to be on your desk, because I put it there myself.'
'Hmm. Must have become mixed up with some paperwork. I’ll have a good look when we get back.' He stopped outside of Maria’s house. They knocked, waited, knocked again, waited some more. Still no answer.
'Guess we’re gonna have to come back,' Kristina said, blowing air up into her fringe.
Mike nodded, looked at his watch. 'We best get back.' He moved to the window and, cupping his hands around his face to block the sun, looked inside. In the far corner stood a fifty-inch television set, next to it a state of the art music centre. Expensive-looking furniture and thick, creamy-coloured carpets caused him to say, 'Wow, this Maria must have a hell of a job!'
'Let me see.' Kristina pushed Mike out of the way and stood on her toes to look inside. After a moment taking in the luxurious sitting room, she said. 'Wow’s right.'
'Tell you what.' Mike pointed up the street. 'You work up that way to the top, and I’ll go down, cross over to the other side. Then we’ll meet back here. See what this Maria’s neighbours have to say about her.'
Twenty minutes later they met up again, having both drawn blanks.
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