The Chosen Ones

by Howard Linskey

  First there was a loud gunshot which reverberated in the corridor outside and shocked Bradshaw with its suddenness. Then he heard the sounds of an immense struggle on the other side of the door. Scuffling noises, the sound of blows being landed and the cries of the men absorbing those blows were all audible, but he couldn’t tell if anyone had been hit by the pellets from the shotgun or who was getting the upper hand in the fight. Tom was tough enough in the normal world, but this place was a long way from normal and their jailor far from ordinary.

  Once again he pulled on the heavy, locked door, knowing it was useless and impossible to budge. He heard Tom cry out in pain, the sound of scuffed footsteps and then silence.

  ‘Tom!’

  But there was no answer.

  Tom took punches to his face, and a knee was directed into his stomach, forcing the wind out of him. The blow was a sickening one that took some of his strength, but it made him angry and that was probably what he needed most to forget the consequences of losing this fight. He butted his head forwards and crashed it into the man’s nose then pummelled him with both fists. The masked man cried out and struck back, landing body blows on Tom’s torso which made him shout in pain, but Tom kept up the fight and they traded blows as they struggled viciously on the ground. Then the man bit Tom on the arm, drawing blood. Enraged, Tom grabbed the man by the ear and banged his head hard against the floor. The masked man did not pass out but it gave Tom a precious second to wriggle free and get to his feet.

  He immediately went for the gun and the masked man grabbed him around the leg, trying to drag him away. Tom lashed out with his foot. It connected with his opponent’s jaw and he was knocked backwards. Tom was free, and he levelled the gun.

  ‘Don’t come any closer,’ he snarled.

  The man in the balaclava got slowly to his feet and stared at him for a long moment. Then he took a step forward, then another.

  ‘Get back,’ Tom warned him, but the man took a third step, until he was almost close enough to reach out and touch the barrel of the shotgun.

  ‘The gun is empty,’ the deep voice told him, as if to show Tom why he wasn’t stopping.

  ‘I know that,’ hissed Tom, then he sprang towards the man and pivoted, swinging the gun round fiercely with his right hand so that the butt of the shotgun came across in an arc and smashed hard into the side of his assailant’s face.

  The other man fell sideways then backwards, his legs buckled and he dropped to the ground. He landed heavily on the tiled floor then lay still.

  ‘Tom!’ called Bradshaw again, but still he received no reply.

  Then there was the sound of metal against metal as a key turned in the lock. Bradshaw took a step backwards and drew back his fist, ready to land a blow as soon as the door opened.

  ‘Christ,’ he hissed in relief when he saw Tom standing in the doorway. Tom was breathless and bent almost double. He seemed in considerable pain from the fight, but at least he was alive. Behind him on the concrete floor was the unconscious figure of the man in the balaclava.

  ‘You got him,’ said Bradshaw, and relief flooded through him. The two men moved closer and Bradshaw peered down at the motionless figure. ‘Out cold.’ He looked at Tom for an explanation.

  ‘Hit him with the gun,’ he explained. ‘Bloke almost had me.’

  ‘No such thing as rules in a fight,’ Bradshaw reminded him. ‘Particularly one you can’t afford to lose.’

  Eva shrieked then, and before either man could react she shot past them both and went straight for the prone figure on the floor, kicking him hard in the head then drawing her foot back to do it again. She landed a second sickening blow which made the unconscious head wobble alarmingly, before Bradshaw managed to grab her and pull her away. She was cursing and trying to kick out again. ‘I’ll kill the bastard!’ she roared, and Bradshaw was relieved, because it was the first words he had heard from her. Perhaps she wasn’t as damaged as he had first thought.

  Tom bent low and carefully examined the unconscious man, alert to any sudden movement from the prone figure, but there was none. He glanced up at Bradshaw, who was still holding Eva back, then he grabbed hold of the bottom of the balaclava and drew it up over the face of the unconscious attacker.

  ‘Oh my god,’ he said, and Bradshaw leaned forward to understand the reason for his friend’s shock.

  They both stared at the man’s face for a moment and, in his confusion, Bradshaw let go of Eva. He needn’t have worried, though, for she too was having difficulty processing the sight before her.

  ‘That man,’ Bradshaw said needlessly when he was finally able to find his voice, ‘is a woman.’

  Some of the doors had keys in their locks and others didn’t, so Bradshaw took the keys from Chris’s belt and began opening all the doors in the bunker’s corridor. The keys were numbered to coincide with the rooms, so it was a simple matter. Some of them were empty, but not all. To Bradshaw’s intense relief, he opened one door to find one of the missing women cowering behind it, then he opened the door to another, and another, until all five of the Disappeared were assembled together, standing in a disbelieving huddle, their terror only diminishing when they saw their rescuers and the unconscious figure of their captor lying on the floor.

  Bradshaw recognized each woman from the photographs in the case files that he had studied so closely. There was something of a miracle in the appearance of each one. Though they were shaken and in shock, they appeared, at first glance, to be physically unharmed. It turned out that Alice Smith’s mother was right and she wasn’t dead after all, and Jessica Davies’ fiancé would not have to live for ever with the knowledge that his inability to give her a lift home that night because of his drinking had cost her life. Whatever marital issues Stephanie Evans might have to explain because of her missing wedding ring probably paled into insignificance right now, and the reappearance of Sandra Lane might even snap her largely mute parents out of their shock. Then there was Eva Dunbar, the only one of the five who still had the presence of mind and composure left to thank him.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said, and they both looked down at the figure lying inert on the floor. ‘The nightmare is over.’

  She shook her head. ‘I need to get home,’ Eva told him. ‘My mother’s not well, she won’t be able to manage without …’

  Bradshaw placed a hand firmly on Eva’s shoulder to calm her. ‘I’ve met your mother, Eva. She’s coping. She was beside herself with worry about you, of course, but as soon as she knows your safe she’ll be okay.’

  ‘Thank god,’ she said. ‘Then the nightmare really is over.’

  ‘It is,’ he assured her. ‘Now let’s get you all out of here.’

  Tom had taken off his belt and used it to bind their abductor’s hands behind her back.

  Tom regarded the women and waited till Bradshaw had checked every room. ‘No Helen,’ he said.

  ‘She’s probably fine,’ said Bradshaw, unconvincingly. ‘You know Helen.’

  ‘If anything has happened to her, then I swear this piece of shit will …’ Tom’s anger prevented him from finishing, but Bradshaw got the message and resolved to intervene, to protect his friend from a murder charge.

  Helen had watched as the old man squeezed the trigger. She had fully expected to die. Instead of a bang, however, there was only a click, and the man stared at his gun in disbelief. Helen didn’t wait for him to fire again. She turned and ran, bursting from the room and running through the nearest door, which to her immense relief opened into a hallway with a front door directly ahead of her. Not daring to look back over her shoulder in case the old man had managed to climb from his sick bed and pursue her, she went straight to it.

  She drew back the bolts on the inside of the door and turned the key. She pulled hard and the door opened. Helen ran out through the door and emerged in the courtyard of the farmhouse once more. The light hurt her eyes after so long underground and it took her a moment to realize she was back at the spot where she had been taken
by the man in the balaclava. She sprinted through the courtyard and around the house, went to the gate, climbed over it and realized her car was gone, so she ran down the road as fast as she was able.

  She was free.

  Bradshaw took off his belt and threw it to Tom. ‘I say we tie his … her … feet together and leave her here.’

  ‘I’m good with that,’ said Tom. ‘Let’s get everyone out of here.’

  They went back down the corridor and guided the stunned women up the ladder one by one, then out through the hatch, still open from when they had entered the bunker.

  They trudged back across the fields and when they were halfway there picked out the flashing lights of four police cars in the distance. ‘Malone,’ said Bradshaw. ‘She must have heard me.’

  By the time they reached the scrapyard the cars were pulling in, lights still flashing. DC Malone got out of the first one, then a familiar figure dressed in unfamiliar clothes slowly climbed out of the back seat.

  ‘Helen!’ cried Tom, and he ran to embrace her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  I charge my daughters every one

  To keep good house while I am gone,

  You and you and especially you,

  Or else I’ll beat you black and blue.

  ‒ From an early version of Mother Goose

  ‘This one is a criminologist’s wet dream,’ announced Kane when they assembled in his office the following afternoon. ‘Chris’ ‒ and he paused for effect ‒ ‘is actually Christina.’

  ‘It’s official,’ Bradshaw told Tom. ‘You were beaten up by a woman.’

  ‘Correction,’ said Tom, whose face was bruised from the fight. ‘I was almost beaten up by a woman, and believe me when I say this: there is no shame in it. That is one powerful female.’

  ‘All this time she was pretending to be a man?’ asked Helen, recalling the meek and softly spoken woman at the cottage and trying to reconcile her with the balaclava-wearing figure wielding a shotgun at the farmhouse who had imprisoned her. ‘But why?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Kane, ‘but when the professor finally gets here maybe he will enlighten us.’

  ‘We got an expert in from the university to speak to Chris,’ explained Bradshaw. ‘A Professor Flannery.’

  ‘An expert on what?’ asked Tom, who was wondering how anyone could ever be qualified to comment on a case as bizarre as this one.

  ‘Pretty much everything,’ he said, and when he saw the look on Tom’s face, Bradshaw added: ‘Sociology, psychology, social anthropology … that kind of stuff. Anyway, he’s been with her all morning.’

  Kane waved a hand dismissively. ‘Whatever he ends up telling us, the main thing is you got the women back alive. I think we can agree it’s a job very well done, and I know you all went through a lot, particularly Helen.’ He nodded at her. ‘So, thank you.’

  ‘It’s not over, though, is it?’ said Helen. ‘Not until we find out what happened there and why. The women who disappeared recently have all been rescued, but the others …’ She couldn’t bring herself to say how horrific the fate of the earlier victims must have been. ‘We owe it to their families to at least find out why this happened.’

  ‘The father isn’t talking, and his son’ ‒ Kane corrected himself ‒ ‘daughter is a basket case. Maybe the professor will get something out of her.’ He looked over Tom’s shoulder towards the wider office outside Kane’s. ‘And this looks like him now.’

  A self-important figure dressed in a tweed suit walked into Kane’s office and greeted them. Professor Flannery was a man in late middle age with wild curly hair and reading glasses on a chain that hung around his neck. The DCI made the introductions, explaining that Helen, Tom and Ian had all personally experienced the bunker.

  ‘What did you find out?’ Kane asked him when the formalities were complete. ‘Apart from the obvious … that she’s barking.’

  Professor Flannery blinked at that description. ‘It would seem that Chris has been living as a boy for most of her life,’ he began. ‘She becomes quite agitated when you point out the obvious, that she was born female.’

  ‘Is she a whatsit?’ asked Kane, searching for the word. ‘A transvestite?’

  ‘No.’ Flannery shook his head dismissively. ‘A transvestite is someone who derives pleasure from the act of wearing clothes normally associated with the opposite sex. Chris has no interest in wearing a man’s clothes other than practicality.’

  ‘Does she want a sex change, then?’ asked Kane.

  ‘Apparently not. Chris knows she is a woman but simply chooses to present herself as a man, and that is enough for her.’

  ‘How could she?’ snapped Kane. ‘If a bull has tits, it’s a cow.’ Then he muttered, ‘Sorry,’ at Helen, who was looking at him in disgust.

  ‘Chris isn’t a transvestite or transgender and as far as I can see does not have any recognized condition such as gender dysphoria. She doesn’t feel emotionally as if she is a different sex, she just wishes it so because her father would have preferred it that way.’

  When this pronouncement was greeted with blank stares, the professor grew impatient, either with his audience or his own inability to explain himself to them. ‘I’m saying she’s a one-off. Chris has, in effect, for want of a better word, been brainwashed. She has had very little contact with the outside world. Her life has been spent almost entirely with her father and no one else. He taught her everything she knows, quite literally.’ Then the professor quoted, ‘Give me a child until he is seven and I will show you the man.’

  ‘Who said that?’ Bradshaw asked, meaning the professor’s quote.

  Before Flannery could explain its origins, Helen said, ‘Aristotle.’

  ‘You really are posh,’ Tom told her.

  ‘I am not posh,’ she retorted firmly.

  ‘Was she pretending to be a boy, then?’ asked Kane.

  ‘Pretending …’ mused the professor. ‘Is it pretending if you believe it to be true because you have willed it that way?’ he asked hypothetically. ‘Chris lived her life in almost total isolation, brought up by a father who raged when his wife left him. He told her women were abhorrent, the creator of most of the world’s problems, the catalyst for the release of man’s basest nature and the cause of his expulsion from the Garden of Eden, when Eve tempted Adam.’

  ‘In other words, it’s all a woman’s fault,’ said Helen. ‘I might have known.’

  ‘That was Samuel’s view,’ explained the professor, ‘and when his daughter heard all this, she resolved to live her life with him as a man, or as close to it as she could. I think she reasoned she would then be more worthy of his love.’

  ‘But when we met her it was obvious she was a woman.’

  ‘She couldn’t alter her physical appearance entirely in day-to-day life,’ he said, ‘but in the bunker she could pad out her clothes and wear a mask. Behind it, she could be whatever she wanted to be, and she chose to be a man.’

  ‘Is she a lesbian?’ Kane asked.

  ‘Not according to her. I understand none of the women that were abducted experienced sexual attention of any kind from Chris. She claims she never touched the previous victims. That was left to her father, who raped them.’ And he turned to Helen then and shocked her by saying, ‘You and the other most recent victims were spared that ordeal, but only because of his ill health.’

  ‘Are you saying she willingly went along with her father’s plans to kidnap and rape women?’ asked Helen.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but she did not view those acts as either abduction or rape.’

  ‘Then what did she view them as?’ asked Tom.

  ‘She told me her father was saving the women.’

  ‘Saving them?’ asked Bradshaw. ‘From what?’

  The professor frowned then. ‘Some form of Biblical Apocalypse. It would be caused by man but decreed by God. Chris is convinced war is imminent and the world will soon be devastated by nuclear Armageddon. She keeps asking to be returned t
o the bunker. Right now, she is genuinely in fear for her life, because she is no longer able to retreat back underground.’

  ‘Her father told her war was coming?’ asked Tom.

  ‘She knows no other reality, doesn’t believe the newspapers, has no TV and no perception that the Cold War is over. Chris thinks the world will soon be destroyed. Only she and her father will survive, along with the women they save.

  ‘When her father became ill and could no longer do God’s work, she had to do it for him. Posing as a cab-driver, she could choose suitable candidates for salvation. This whole thing has been about following in Daddy’s footsteps. She even took five women to exactly replace the five he kept underground, until the day when the world as we know it would end.’ He looked at Helen. ‘She planned for you to be a replacement, for one of the women who hadn’t cooperated.’

  It took them a few moments to let all this sink in and they sat in silence for a time while they processed the professor’s appraisal of Chris, a woman who wanted to live like a man not because it felt more natural to her but to appease her father, a madman who had poisoned his daughter’s mind against her own sex.

  The professor must have found the silence oppressive because he cheerfully observed, ‘I must say I have never come across a case like this one before. She’s really quite unique. I’ll probably write a book about it.’

  ‘You’d better be quick, then,’ quipped Kane, and he glanced at Tom: ‘Before he beats you to it.’

  The professor looked unnerved then, as if realizing that the journalist would indeed very likely finish his less academic study of the Keoghs before him.

  Helen’s head had started to throb, and Tom noticed her discomfort. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Headache,’ she said. ‘This whole case is making it spin.’

  ‘I’ll drive you home. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and it looks as if we’re finally done.’

  ‘Almost,’ said Bradshaw, ‘but not quite. I’ve got to go back out to the farm. There’s one last thing I still have to do.’