by Sibel Hodge
And then he fell backwards, and gravity took care of everything.
I peered over the rocky edge at what had once been Colby’s body and was now reduced to a bloody, broken pulp on its sharp bounce and tumble during the long drop.
But I’d messed up. I’d failed to keep it a professional hit. I’d lost it in an intense storm of unleashed emotions.
When they recovered Colby’s messy remains and pieced it all together, and worked out the points of impact on his body on the way down—the shattered jaw, broken finger, and torn knee ligament—it would just be put down to normal trauma. They were all reasonably sustained injuries, considering the fall. But would they find any of my skin under his nails from the scratches on my cheek? Would they find on the ridge any traces of Colby’s blood that I missed after cleaning up? Would they suspect murder or would it be classed as a simple walking accident, just as I’d planned?
And would I get them all before they took me out?
Only time would tell.
I unrolled the balaclava and pulled it over my face. Great protection from the chilly winter wind that any hill walker should have in their kit. Even better for keeping me anonymous on the trek down.
I took one last look at my son’s murderer and spoke into the silence, finally delivering to Colby the message from Alex. ‘Touchable.’
I started walking down the mountain.
Six dead, three to go…
Chapter 55
As I walked into the hospital, Ava was coming out, carrying a crying Jackson in her arms. His face was red, his eyes puffy, wet tears streaking down his chubby cheeks. Ava was so engrossed in running a hand over his head to try to calm him down that she didn’t notice me at first.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Oh, hi!’ She gave me a harassed and tired smile. ‘I haven’t seen you for a few days. You look like you’ve caught the sun—have you been away?’
‘Just a short business trip. I’m looking forward to telling Maya all about it.’
‘I’ve got to get this one home for a nap. He’s been screaming the place down. If that didn’t wake Maya up, I don’t know what will. Mum and Dad are exhausted, and they’ve gone back to my place for a little sleep. We’ll all be back later on.’
‘There’s no change with her, then?’
She smiled sadly, tears brimming to the surface. ‘We had a meeting this morning with the doctors. They say she’s deteriorating. They…’ She blinked and looked away for a moment.
I put my hand on her shoulder, and she turned back to me, unable to hold the tears inside any longer.
‘They don’t think she’s ever going to wake up. They think she’s giving up.’ Her face twisted with anguish. ‘I just want her to get better again. I want her to see this little one grow up. See her laugh again. It’s so unfair. I’m not ready to say goodbye.’
‘Neither am I. There are plenty of cases where people wake up from comas. The mind is a powerful thing, you know, and people still aren’t sure of the complexities of how it works. Doctors aren’t always right. You just need to hold onto that thought.’
‘You think miracles can really happen?’
I thought that the ending was up to Maya, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t what Ava wanted to hear. Instead, I said, ‘She’s stronger than you think.’ I dropped my hand, holding out the newspaper I was carrying. ‘I’m just going up to read to her now. There’s a story in here I think Maya will love to hear.’
She repositioned Jackson onto one hip and touched my arm. ‘Thank you again for visiting her. It’s so kind of you. I can’t get here as much as I’d like with this little one, and they do say that any kind of stimulation can help pull her out of it.’
‘It’s no trouble, honestly. I want to. Just don’t give up hope yet.’
Jackson let out an ear-piercing scream.
Ava adjusted his weight and said, ‘Thanks again. I’ll probably see you soon.’ She walked towards the car park, muttering words to Jackson and kissing the top of his head.
I got in the lift and rode to the Intensive Care Unit. Standing in the doorway of Maya’s room for a moment, I watched the machines that breathed for her, beeping and flickering with lights. The bruises were beginning to fade, but she looked so frail and small. If she did recover, she had a long way to go. Intensive physiotherapy was just the start. They said she might have some damage to her brain, but no one would know for certain until she woke up. If she woke up. She might have to learn to walk and talk again.
I sat in the chair next to her bed, put the newspaper on top of her blanket, and took her hand in mine. It was warm and dry and unresponsive.
I held onto it as I spoke. ‘How are you today? Sorry I haven’t been in for a little while. I had something important to do that I couldn’t put off. There’s another really interesting story in the paper, Maya. I’ll read it to you, shall I?’
I glanced briefly at her face. No sign of anything behind the closed eyelids. ‘“Defence Secretary Douglas Talbot and Owner of Barron Private Banking Group Felix Barron are both missing, presumed dead, following the discovery of Barron’s Yacht, Invincible Storm, floating abandoned in the waters off Corsica two days ago. Talbot’s wife, Melissa, reported that Talbot was taking a short weekend break with close friend Barron aboard his yacht to do some fishing before returning to government duties. Mrs Talbot became increasingly worried when she was unable to reach her husband by mobile phone and alerted the authorities.
‘According to the Coast Guard, the engine of Invincible Storm was still running when it was discovered, although no one was on board. Barron’s family stated both he and Talbot were experienced sailors, and there were no other crew on the yacht at the time. They are shocked and confused as to exactly what could’ve happened. The search for both men continues”.’
I watched her carefully, hoping for some kind of recognition that my words had penetrated her sleeping mind. It hadn’t worked before, when I’d read out the news reports of Scholes’s and Colby’s deaths to her. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of what to say to pull her back to the land of the living. ‘The doctors are giving up on you, but Ava, your parents, they want you back. And I know you can hear me, Maya. I know you’re still in there.’
I blew out a frustrated breath when there was no reaction, leant closer, and whispered in her ear. ‘There’s one more left. The masked man is Xavier Wentworth. Part of the richest, most powerful family in the world, the most influential puppetmasters who manipulate everything from behind the scenes. Pulling the strings of the world’s heads of states and captains of industry. They’re worth several trillion dollars, controlling everything from global finance to energy, mining, defence companies, pharmaceuticals, healthcare, media, real estate, and a lot more via hundreds of different banks and corporations. You don’t get that rich without having your fingers in every pie. They have a major involvement in world politics and affairs and can create a war or orchestrate a supreme global change to suit themselves at the drop of a hat. But a plan is in action. It won’t be much longer. Will you hang in there until then? You can’t give up now. Just one more to go and you’ll be safe.’
I squeezed her hand softly and pictured the final hit in my head again. Lee had hacked into Wentworth’s emails, medical records, business schedules, travel arrangements, and all manner of other things that helped build up a picture of how I could do it. Xavier Wentworth had recently been diagnosed with a B12 deficiency—had seen a doctor who’d prescribed a course of ten intramuscular B12 injections for the next three months. But Wentworth didn’t have much time for doctors. He was far too busy with his role of managing hedge funds and raping boys to get the shots from someone else, so after being shown how to do them, he’d elected to inject himself in the privacy of his own company. He’d recently been in London for a meeting with some top executives from one of the many banks his family owned and had stayed at Claridge’s in the penthouse suite he always graced his presence with whenever he was in town. He’d n
ever married—hardly surprising given his tastes were so far away from the standard wife and 2.4 kids—so he was travelling alone, apart from a few bodyguards who travelled with him whenever he went out and were stationed outside his penthouse when he returned. Apparently, he liked his privacy too much for his men to be in the same room while he was in residence. I didn’t need three guesses as to why. The stuff on his laptop was a repeat of The Friday Club tape and worse.
For Lee, manufacturing a card key for Wentworth’s suite was piss easy. Lee had rented the suite previously under an assumed identity and hidden cameras in it prior to Wentworth’s arrival. When I knew Wentworth was at a board meeting, I secured an entry and switched his syringe with the B12 inside for a fast-acting, strong dose of insulin. He took it at night, just before going to bed, so by the time he started feeling ill, it would be too late. He’d fall into a hypoglycaemic coma and then die. Shame. The best bit? Although any pathologist would see the needle marks on his skin, he’d assume they were from the self-inflicted B12 shots. And even if they detected insulin during his post-mortem, there was no trace I’d ever been in his suite, and Lee had deleted all hotel and nearby CCTV footage.
Wentworth was already a dead man walking. He just didn’t know it yet.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t notice it for a moment, but when I did, my heartbeat quickened with hope.
Maya’s eyes were still closed but moving rapidly now beneath her lids, as if she was in the REM stage of sleep. It was the first time I’d ever seen any kind of change in her. Surely that had to be a good sign, so I carried on talking as I rubbed her palm gently with my thumb.
‘I know you’re tired. And I guess you have to decide if you want to see this through to the end with me or if you’re going to let go and be with Jamie now. But whatever you choose, I won’t judge you, I promise. What I do promise is that justice does exist, even if it’s what we make it.’ I lightly kissed her forehead.
When I pulled back and studied her face, her eyes were still again. No sign of movement. The machine made the usual steady beep, beep, beep.
Had I been mistaken? Imagined something that wasn’t there? Was she making a choice? I held my breath, waiting for her to wake up. For her to make a sound. A movement. Do something else.
And then her hand gently squeezed mine.
Epilogue
I’m walking down a long hospital corridor. I know I’m in pain, but I can’t feel it, so I don’t know how that’s true. I remember some things. Like, I know my name’s Maya. But my brain feels as if it’s been replaced with something itchy and spongy.
The harsh strip lights above me are flashing on-off, on-off, casting pulsing shadows everywhere. It’s slow going. Hard to breathe. I’m walking and walking and getting nowhere. And I don’t even know where I’m actually going anyway. I keep looking behind me because I think someone might be following me, but no one’s there. Just an endless, empty corridor from where I’ve come. I don’t know whether to stop and turn back or keep going. I get the feeling that if I go back, the corridor will collapse in on me while I’m walking, and the only way I can avoid it is to keep moving in the direction I’ve been going.
Sometimes I feel things on my skin, a light touch, gentle pressure, but I must be imagining it. I can hear voices, too, but they’re not in the corridor. They’re further away. I know the voice belongs to someone called Mitchell, but I don’t know how I recognise it or why the name’s familiar. And there’s another woman’s voice, but it’s nothing I’ve ever heard before. I don’t know that woman. Not sure what she wants with me, but she’s talking fast.
I carry on walking, but the corridor in front is getting darker now, and the lights down there are fading. It’s scary. Eerie. I can smell something decaying and rancid. And I don’t think I want to go down there anymore, but I’m not sure if I can turn back, either.
Is anyone here?
Hello?
HELLO?
The words form in my mouth but go no further. I can’t speak. Letters are tangled together. My lips don’t work.
A little way up, I see another corridor that branches to the right. It’s long, too. But at the end is a doorway that looks tiny from here. The door is open slightly, with sunny light spilling through underneath and at the edges. It looks warm behind the door, and I’m cold. Shivering.
I stand still, looking from one corridor to the next, wondering which is the right way. I think if I make a mistake, there’s no going back. And if I don’t choose, I know I’ll be wandering these corridors for a long time. I just don’t know how I know.
I can’t make a decision, so I listen to Mitchell’s voice from the place that’s far away. I can hear happiness in it, excitement. I’m sure I used to know what that felt like.
‘Wait a minute, Maya. It’s coming on. I’ll turn up the volume now so you can hear the TV.’
I wait. I can do that. I’m not going anywhere just yet. And the other woman’s voice is louder, talking from this TV, but I’m not sure what a TV is.
She says words that jumble together too quickly. Xavier. Wentworth. Died suddenly. Found by his secretary. Richest family. Businesses. Legacy.
Suddenly something clicks together inside, like the interlocking pieces of a jigsaw. Snap. Snap!
I feel something warm in my heart. Like the sunlight from that doorway is reaching out to me all the way from over there. I turn to look at the dark, endless corridor, then back at the sunny one.
I can hear Jamie’s voice now. I think I know which way he is, but I don’t know whether to go and see him yet or wait. I wish someone would make a decision for me because it hurts my head to try to think.
I lean against the wall, but the more I try to make the right choice, the more impossible it seems.
And then Mitchell says hello to someone. Another woman. Ava answers him. She’s my sister, right? How do I know that but not other things? I hear a baby crying and feel a kiss on my forehead.
As if someone has just flipped a switch on in my head, now the choice is so clear. I know for certain which way I’m going.
I take a step forward…
A Note from the Author
Although all events and characters in this book are entirely fictional, Untouchable was inspired by many horrific allegations surrounding the following UK police investigations: Operation Midland, Operation Yewtree, Operation Hydrant, Operation Fairbank, Operation Fernbridge, and Operation Rectangle, to name a few, which involve deep-rooted historical and institutional child abuse allegations, including murder, by VIP paedophiles.
Firstly, I’d like to say a huge thanks to my readers from the bottom of my heart for choosing my books! Untouchable was a very difficult book to write, for many reasons—after all, a book about child abuse isn’t going to be light reading. Many people doubted the horrific subject matter would work in a novel, and there were so many times when I doubted myself. As I did a lot of research in preparation, the sheer scale of institutional child abuse, the physical and mental effects on survivors, the quashed investigations, inquiries, cover-ups and the lack of prosecutions, insanely light sentencing, and low number of convictions for offenders was mind-blowingly devastating and heartbreaking. So I had to follow my heart, and my intention was to raise awareness, because making child abuse taboo takes the power away from survivors and gives it to the perpetrators. Silence and denial makes the vulnerable even more voiceless. I really hope I managed to give the subject the justice it deserves, and this book is dedicated to survivors everywhere. If you did enjoy it, I would be so grateful if you could leave a review or recommend it to family and friends. I always love to hear from readers so please keep your emails and Facebook messages coming (contact details are on my website: www.sibelhodge.com). They make my day!
A massive thanks goes out to my husband Brad for supporting me, being my chief beta reader, fleshing out ideas with me, and helping me see the light when my brain was exploding with this book!
Thanks SO much to JY for all your
SAS advice and input, and for bringing Jamie’s and Mitchell’s military background to life. You know who you are!
Big thank you hugs to my beta readers Karen Lloyd, Sue Ward, Tom Elder, K’Tee Bee, Dianne Wallace, Joo, and Joseph Calleja for all your feedback. It’s so much appreciated.
To Angela and Jill and Red Adept Editing for catching the things I missed.
Huge thanks to Emilie Marneur for all your editing advice, along with Sammia. Sorry for being such a nightmare with this one!
And finally, thanks to all my author friends. Writing is such a solitary existence that it’s great to know you’re not going mad sometimes!
Sibel xx
About the Author
Sibel Hodge’s No. 1 Bestseller Look Behind You has now sold over ¼ million copies. Her books are International Bestsellers in UK, USA, Australia, France, and Germany. She writes an eclectic mix of genres, and she's a passionate human and animal rights advocate.
Her work has been nominated and shortlisted for numerous prizes, including the Harry Bowling Prize, the Yeovil Literary Prize, the Chapter One Promotions Novel Competition, The Romance Reviews’ prize for Best Novel with Romantic Elements, and Indie Book Bargains’ Best Indie Books of 2012. She was the Winner of Best Children’s Book by eFestival of Words 2013, Nominated for the 2015 BigAl's Books and Pals Young Adult Readers' Choice Award, Winner of Crime, Thrillers & Mystery | Book from a Series in the SpaSpa Book Awards 2013, Readers' Favourite Young Adult - Coming of Age Honourable Award Winner 2015, and New Adult Finalist in the Oklahoma Romance Writers of America's International Digital Awards 2015. Her novella Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave has been listed as one of the top 40 books about human rights by Accredited Online Colleges.
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