Pain

by Adam Southward

  The outside of her neck tingled, as if an ice cube were being run up and down it. In contrast, her lips swelled, her tongue scorched and ready. The tingling danced over her stomach, all the way down, where it met a rush of heat flowing up the inside of her thighs. Mia writhed on the bed, straining at the straps, searching for more pain. For more pleasure.

  ‘Jesus,’ she heard Aubyn say, distant behind the white noise in her ears, the blood rushing as her heart pumped faster and faster, her blood pressure climbing to lethal highs.

  Tau coughed. Mia opened her eyes, but the two figures were blurred. Her eyes burned and everything was tinged with red.

  ‘Strap her head,’ said Tau, and two pairs of hands grabbed her, pulling her neck straight as a cold strap was placed on her forehead. She heard a buckle being fastened and the two doctors stepped back.

  Mia faded. The pain seeped away and the pleasure danced, teasing around before fading also. Mia tried to crack her neck, to start it again, but her head was fixed and she couldn’t move even an inch.

  The doctors shuffled forwards, tightening the straps on her arms and legs until she was rigid and immobile. No matter how hard she strained, her limbs and head were solid, fixed.

  An instant chasm. Like a darkness behind her eyes, it grew larger, taking in her chest and gut. The pain was gone, and so was the pleasure. She knew this feeling well. Her comedown, her darkness. The calm after the storm, except that Mia wanted the storm.

  ‘No,’ she said, panting, to the ceiling. ‘No. Let me. Please let me.’

  Her heart rate remained high, but she could already feel it slowing. With her sensations curtailed, her body frantically tried to return to normal, her body churning out toxins, flushing itself clean.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered. To be given a taste of ecstasy and have it snatched away was a cruel experiment. But she realised, even through the haze, that this was what this was.

  It was what she was.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  Neither doctor answered. The smell of her vomit wafted over. A distant hum and clatter filtered in through the thick door.

  ‘Are we complete?’ Aubyn’s voice. It was clearer as Mia crawled from the depths into the land of the living.

  ‘We did what they asked,’ said Tau.

  Mia could feel the doctors’ discomfort, even over the deep thud of her own body’s protests. These men were unwilling and on the edge. Whatever they thought they were doing had turned sour, and the result in front of them was not what they wanted. Not what they’d dreamt of for their perverted scheme.

  Mia opened her eyes. She stared at Tau and they locked eyes. Mia knew hers were full of anger and hate; what else could she feel for this man? His were full of frustration and latent arrogance. He’d failed, and Mia knew that part of him blamed her. Even now.

  But Mia couldn’t let this be the end. She needed closure and being taken from this place now wouldn’t give it.

  ‘Where are they?’ she whispered, trying to make her eyes warmer, less hate-filled.

  Tau frowned. Genuine surprise. ‘Who?’ he said.

  The first time he’d spoken directly to her. His conscience finally starting to kick in? Mia swallowed. Did she want to hear it? Could she?

  ‘My parents. The others in the car.’ She never knew for sure if it had been her parents. She only had her dreams and visions. But as Tau’s eyes widened she knew she was right. His face gave it away so clearly, and Mia read his expression of horror.

  Tau shook his head. His colleague, Aubyn, frowned, darting his head towards him.

  ‘What does she mean?’ asked Aubyn.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Tau. ‘She’s delusional.’

  ‘Please,’ said Mia. She could threaten and scream, but it would do no good. All she wanted was honesty. What they’d done to her was clear, and her life was finished. She would leave here and die – they’d made that explicit. But she had to know. Through the darkness and the haze of her body trying to right itself, the longing for her family had never left her. ‘Tell me what happened to them.’

  Tau gathered up his things from the workbench, pushing papers into a brown folder then into a messenger bag. He switched off the ECG machine, nodding to his colleague. Aubyn slowly gathered his own things together, glancing at Tau and Mia but keeping silent.

  Mia heard the rustling of papers and listened to the silence from the doctors. Her eyes welled up and the tears dripped down her cheeks. Pain of a different kind. The pain of torment and secrets.

  ‘We’re done.’ Tau’s voice. Aubyn nodded.

  They paused at the door. Tau looked back. ‘We were trying to help you,’ he said. He frowned, some inner battle playing out. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this.’

  The two doctors left. The door shut.

  Mia was alone again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Mikey had warned him. If you value your life, he’d said. Hartley had warned him too, for other reasons, but they amounted to the same thing: stay away.

  Alex didn’t doubt for one moment that both had been serious, but if they knew him, they’d know he’d follow his gut and not let this go. This case wasn’t about Mia’s killing spree, grotesque and horrific as it was. This case was about far more. The doctors and the organisation behind Nova were the real prize, and that should have been their focus. If only he could have convinced them.

  This was about the woman in black.

  Alex racked his brains, trying to figure out how he knew her. A case? A patient? An ex-colleague? Alex had worked across a diverse field, meeting many hundreds of professionals during his clinical tenure. But he’d remember someone like her, with those eyes so deep they’d swallow you whole and leave you gasping for air. Alex had made a habit of remembering beautiful women during his early days. His marriage breakdown could attest to it and his ever-present guilt about Grace and Katie was a constant reminder. If that woman and Alex had ever worked together, Alex would know her name at the very least.

  But the woman was a criminal and her business was serious organised crime. Alex’s patients had never come close.

  She’d used his first name. It had rolled softly off her tongue, familiar and warm. She knew him and he knew her, but his memory wouldn’t cooperate. Each time he pictured her face his thoughts became muddled. He heard her voice, but the sounds twisted and changed in tone and tempo until he couldn’t recall what she sounded like, or even the pitch of her voice.

  His left hand was shaking. He looked at it, making a fist. How long had it been since his last Xanax? Too long. His body knew it and his mind would soon catch up. He clenched both hands into fists a few times then released them. Get the blood pumping until the shaking stopped. His jacket was gone and so was his wallet. His trouser pockets were empty. No Xanax, no quick fix. He prayed he wouldn’t be here long enough to suffer the consequences. Benzo withdrawal was unpleasant and debilitating. It was something he’d promised he’d put himself through, but not today. Not under these conditions.

  He picked up his phone from where the Russian man had left it on the desk. The screen flashed on but couldn’t find a signal. He tried 999, but nothing. Were they intentionally jamming radio signals? He tucked the phone into his pocket.

  Alex realised he’d remained seated for a long time after his two captors disappeared. Unrestrained, he risked standing, stretching his arms and legs, examining the small room again. Apart from the single chair and desk, the walls were blank white except for the one composed of mirrored glass. He glanced at it, hunting for a recording device or a camera. There was neither on this side, so he stepped up to the glass and tried to peer through.

  If it was one-way glass, the type seen in police interrogation rooms and, from Alex’s experience, mental health assessment centres, he might catch a glimpse of something on the other side. All it took was a glimmer of light to spoil the privacy. He let his eyes relax, cupping them with his hands for several seconds, looking left and right.

  Nothing. The room beyond
was in total darkness. Whether or not it contained anybody was impossible to tell. Alex turned his head and placed his ear against the glass, realising how absurd he’d look but not caring much. He’d compartmentalised the kidnapping and his curiosity was returning. The woman, whoever she was, didn’t want him dead and didn’t even consider him dangerous enough to restrain.

  He heard nothing, which told him nothing.

  He checked the door. Locked and solid. The handle didn’t move and there was no keyhole on the inside. Putting his ear to the door, he heard a faint thud of footsteps and distant machinery. Diesel engines, perhaps. Lorries?

  Alex had to assume he was still on the industrial estate where they’d captured him. They’d seen him snooping around and brought him inside. He could only guess at which building, but it didn’t matter either way. He only had one choice to make: whether to sit and wait or try and find his own way out.

  He paused, judging the risk. How long would he have to be missing before somebody raised the alarm? A day? Two days? He’d already stood Laurie up, but she might just shrug it off. She didn’t seem the type to chase men.

  Grace would expect to hear from him at least once a week, but she’d left him a message saying she was going away for four days with Katie – a pampering retreat in Surrey. He texted Katie most days, but there were plenty of occasions when work had kept him distracted and he hadn’t been able to.

  Hartley would expect him to check in, but she’d only just told him to back off. It might be a week before she called.

  Living alone sucked. Alex realised that several days could pass without a major alert. That ruled out rescue, leaving him with his original options: wait or force the issue.

  Waiting would be safer, but Alex realised his choice had already been made by the growing frustration in his gut, present even before he had entered the industrial estate. The strange woman had distracted him, intrigued and confused him, but now his frustration was turning to anger. He’d been here before, with his father and the arrogant criminals who thought nothing of human experimentation and the suffering they inflicted. These pharmaceutical companies and the people working on university research programmes considered themselves gods, playing games with their subjects, manipulating and subjecting innocent people to the bizarre and the grotesque. They concocted their hypotheses and devised their experiments knowing full well that the ethics of modern medicine would never allow it. So they ignored ethics and they ignored the law. They ran their experiments with reckless abandon, leaving death and suffering in their wake, leaving people like Hartley and Laurie and Alex to pick up the pieces. These people called themselves doctors but in reality they were an abomination. They must be stopped.

  Alex couldn’t wait.

  Putting his fists against the door, he thumped repeatedly.

  ‘Hello?’ he shouted at the top of his voice, the sound echoing in the confines of the room.

  ‘Hello?’ He paused, then called and hammered for a minute or more, until his fists started to hurt and his throat was sore. He was about to stop when the door shuddered. He heard the lock click and it hissed open. Alex stepped back, not wanting to appear threatening.

  The door opened a fraction. A man’s face appeared. He was dressed in white – a lab tech.

  ‘Who are you?’ said the tech.

  The question was significant. It had been a gamble on Alex’s part, and if a guard had appeared, he might have been shackled again to the chair. But Alex suspected that his presence here was not well known. Given the size of the complex, there would be hundreds of staff, and as with most fronts for serious crime, the majority wouldn’t even know the true purpose of the business. Alex had wagered that the first person to open the door wouldn’t know who he was. He was right.

  ‘I need to make a call,’ said Alex. ‘My phone is—’

  Another person barged into the room. Another white-coated clinician. He pulled the first man away, grabbing him by the arm, eyeing Alex with suspicion. He looked older, with grey hair and long stubble. He wore a stethoscope around his neck.

  ‘Why did you open this door?’ He spoke to the bewildered-looking lab technician, his face flustered.

  ‘I heard thumping,’ said the tech, trembling. ‘I thought somebody was stuck in here. I’m helping with the asset move. We’ve been told that all N-class assets are to be loaded within the hour. I was assigned over here with temporary clearance.’

  The technician fumbled with his ID badge and produced it. The doctor examined it with a scowl.

  ‘Then go and do your job,’ he snapped. ‘This is a secure area, for Christ’s sake. Behave like a fucking professional.’

  The technician nodded frantically and hurried out of the door. The doctor remained for a few moments. He cast his eyes around the room, shaking his head. His eyes narrowed at Alex as he backed away out of the room. The door closed and the lock fell into place.

  Alex found his heart thumping after the brief encounter. He tempered his anger. He’d failed, but the contact had been useful. They were moving everything out of this place in a hurry. People or materials? And why? Did they know he was working with the police? Had Alex’s appearance here spooked them enough to leave? It sounded chaotic out there.

  Alex paused, slowing his breathing. He could try again, thump and shout. But he had a feeling that the next time the door opened the person wouldn’t be quite so friendly. Alex wondered if the doctor would report the incident and have Security come back again.

  He turned to examine the mirrored wall – something he’d noticed earlier on the bottom part of the mirror. He crouched, checking the glass. The right-hand corner was clear, smudged but intact. The left-hand corner, however, had the beginnings of a hairline crack, perhaps from careless manufacture or from when it had been fitted, which had widened to create a weak spot. It was unlikely ever to be a problem, judging by the steel chair bolted to the floor and the leather straps. Most occupants of this room would never get near the mirror.

  Alex tapped the crack with his finger. It felt as solid as the rest of the glass. He bunched his fist, giving it a firm thump. He thought he heard the slightest of scratching noises above the thump, like two edges crunching.

  He stood up. He had a lot to lose. His life, for one thing, but he still didn’t think it would come to that. He had been put here to keep him out of the way. The woman said he’d caused trouble, but she also said he was harmless. His punishment might depend on whether that trouble could be cured, but Alex was convinced he didn’t want to wait and find out.

  He braced himself against the table, lifted his foot and stamped at an angle into the glass. The hairline crack shot up a foot or so, widening, and the corner of the glass crumbled. Alex paused, listening. If there was anyone in the room behind, they’d have taken action by now. They’d be restraining him, sedating him, whatever other methods they might have.

  But nothing.

  He stomped again. The crack widened further and a piece of glass the size of a side plate shattered. He kicked it through with the toe of his shoe, wincing as the fine leather of his brogue scratched and ripped. If he lived through this, he’d need a new pair of Barker’s.

  It took him five minutes to kick out a hole big enough to crawl through. The glass was safety rated and didn’t break all in one. It shattered and splintered into manageable chunks. He tried to kick as many as possible out of the way before crouching on to the floor.

  The hole let through enough light to see into the observation room. Hardly larger than the room he’d left, it held a few chairs and a table, a video camera on a tripod and a directional microphone. Alex stood, checking the camera. It was on, but on standby, not recording. He left the light off and went to the door, placing his hand gently on the handle. Leaning in, he placed his ear against the cold surface. He thought he could still hear footsteps, but this door, like the other, was thick and solid. He’d have to risk it.

  The handle turned and Alex breathed a small sigh of relief mixed with a fresh wav
e of anxiety as he stepped out into the corridor.

  The corridor was white, empty and smelled of disinfectant. It stretched for fifty yards or so before disappearing through opaque glass doors. Familiar, like a clinical ward, a hospital or testing facility. He assumed the latter. Distant hums of machinery and a klaxon came from his left. He heard a speaker, a voice barking orders.

  Overhead, red lights flashed at three-second intervals. Alarms? The red lights bathed everything in a pinkish glow for a fraction of a second before disappearing. The effect was one of urgency and danger.

  How long until somebody came through those doors and saw him? He had no way of fighting and no easy story to tell. He could run and he could hide, but he needed to get moving.

  He checked his phone. Still no signal, so Alex turned right and headed towards the glass doors. He found himself keeping in tight against the wall, running his fingers across each door. He’d counted five so far. The doors were metal-framed but had traditional turn locks on the outside. He’d been kept in one of them. Who or what were in the others?

  He stopped at one, leaning in to listen. He heard nothing and rested his hand on the lock. If he could escape this place, he could call Hartley and the police would descend. At least, that’s what he hoped. Hartley couldn’t ignore a kidnap attempt, even if she had told him to stay away. But how long would they take, and would the people here manage to cover up what they were doing before they arrived?

  The doctor had said they were moving assets within the hour. Moving them where? A fleet of trucks flowing out of the industrial estate could easily get lost in among the traffic. The police would scream past them without a second look. Alex doubted the lorries had Nova stamped across the side of them. More likely, they’d be using nondescript transport designed to blend in.

  As Laurie kept saying, evidence was what they needed. Perhaps the kidnap of Alex would stick as a charge; perhaps it wouldn’t. With the organisation’s word against his, they could argue a security incident and that they had been keeping Alex restrained until they gathered more information. They could argue a chemical leak and say he was kept in a locked room for his own safety. As it stood, he had precious little on this place other than his presence here.