He closed his eyes and pulled himself tight to the pillar. He tried to steady his breathing while he gathered his strength for the next part of the process. He had to get his left leg around the pillar and onto the ledge where his right foot was. It was going to be difficult enough, but he had now become aware of two problems that were going to make it even more dangerous.
The first thing he realised was that the ledge on the right hand side of the pillar, all the way to the open window, was not the same as the one he had been on so far. The ledge on the other side of the pillar, where his right foot now stood, was not flat. It sloped at an angle of around twenty degrees down from the horizontal position. The slope down was outwards, towards the void.
The second problem he had, and a more immediate risk, was that the rim he was holding onto with his left hand was starting to break away from the pillar, and the left side of his body was slowly falling backwards.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Hedge looked over to his left and the rim was indeed breaking free of the main pillar.
What he was holding onto appeared to be a short metal rod sunk into the plaster, and it was coming loose.
He only had a few seconds left before the rod would break free. He had to act now. He let go with his left hand, pulled hard on the rim being held with his right hand, and flicked his left leg across the face of the pillar. He managed to get his left foot onto the ledge next to his right foot, but he didn’t feel comfortable. He leaned in hard against the wall of the building and rested for a moment. He realised that he had to stand on the balls of his feet in order to counteract the effect of the ledge being at a downward sloping angle.
His heart was racing even faster now, and he took a few more slow breaths, while keeping his eyes tightly shut as he laid his face on the cold brickwork. Although he had now completed the hardest part of the journey, he wasn’t sure that he had the strength to carry on.
As he opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but look down, and fits of shock ran through his body as he saw the gaping abyss below him. He closed his eyes again and forced himself closer to the wall.
‘I can’t do it, I can’t do it,’ he said aloud to no one in particular.
His feet were aching terribly because of the angle they were being held at, and the need to push his body inwards. The back of his legs were screaming with pain also, as his Achilles tendons were stretched to their limits.
He gritted his teeth and forced his eyes open. Looking to his right, he was able to see how far away the open window was. He desperately tried not to look down again, and he threw his gaze skyward.
The slope of the ledge made it almost impossible to maintain his balance, but inch by inch, he started to move his feet again. He tried desperately to stop thinking about what would happen if he slipped off the ledge and plunged down to the ground below. If only he had something for his hands to grip on to, but there was nothing – the wall was just bare, hard brickwork.
Progress was slow, but eventually he passed the second window, again locked tight, and so he carried on towards the open one. His feet were agonisingly painful, but he attempted to focus on keeping his balance and not leaning backwards. He felt tired, scared and dizzy. He tried not to think about falling, just keep moving.
A sudden lapse in concentration, and he accidentally glanced down again, and had to stop for a few precious seconds to steady himself. He felt sick, his feet were tormenting him and he was thirsty. His hands had started to bleed from being rubbed along the wall of the building as he moved along. They felt sore, and grit from the wall was irritating the open wounds.
Eventually, mercifully, he reached the open window and fell inside the building. On the inside was a deep pile carpet and he landed on this with a thump. He lay still for several minutes on the soft surface. The relief he felt was indescribable. Tears came to his eyes and he let them flow as he lay there.
After a while he sat up, wiped his hands across his face and looked around to take in his surroundings. He was in an office. The first thing he noticed was that the door to the office had a handle on it – much to his relief.
He needed to get out of this building and report back to the others. He left the office, found the nearest elevator, and headed back down to the first floor. He felt a little conscious as he walked across the main lobby of the bank, and kept his hands in his pockets so as to hide the injuries they had suffered.
Once outside, he walked quickly back to the car. Cole and Fuller sat in the front seats, so he opened the back door and sprawled himself across the back seat.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Fuller said.
Hedge lay quietly on the back seat of the car for a while, gathering enough strength to be able to relay the story.
When he had finished telling them about his experience and the horror of his time on the ledge, Cole looked over at him and told him what a great job he had done.
Cole didn’t say anything else during the entire journey back to the hotel. Neither did Fuller. They couldn’t. They were both too busy laughing.
Chapter Twenty Nine
They ate lunch in the bar back at the hotel. Hedge was surprised to find that Angel had joined them.
‘He knows Dubai,’ Cole had explained. ‘I need to ask him about the area around the bank. We now know that there is only one entrance, so we have to keep an eye out for our targets entering the building.’
‘There is only one entrance isn’t there?’ Fuller looked at Hedge with a sly smile as he said this. ‘Are we sure no one can get in through an open window somewhere?’
Fuller exploded with laughter, Cole joined in.
Angel looked on with a quizzical frown. ‘Is this a private joke or what?’
Hedge had to tell the story once more, for Angel’s benefit.
When Hedge had stopped speaking, Angel joined in with the laughter, so now all three of them were howling with delight.
He was getting a bit irritated as they didn’t appear to understand the full horror of the situation. His obvious annoyance just made them laugh even more. Hedge shook his head from side to side. He wasn’t going to get any sympathy from these guys.
Eventually Cole raised his hand indicating that they had to get on with more serious issues. He nodded to Fuller, who passed around three black and white photographs.
‘We believe there are five cult members in total. It’s possible there may be others, but they are likely to be minor players.’
‘But only three photos?’ said Angel.
‘Indeed,’ said Fuller. ‘We don’t have pictures of the gang leader, or of the man who we suspect is the Dubai contact. The first picture here is Anna, who our friend Hedge has met face to face. The next one is Monica, who is unfortunately no longer with us. Finally, we have this man. We know he’s a German national but we don’t know his name. We think he may be Anna’s boyfriend.’
The last photo was blurred slightly, and only showed a side profile of a young, white man. It was difficult to guess his age or see his features as he had a baseball style cap covering his head, and he had a heavy growth of hair on his face and chin.
‘Could be anyone,’ said Angel dismissively. ‘What else do we know about the so-called cult leader?’
‘Not a lot. He’s an elusive character, and is almost certainly not going to show his face here today,’ advised Cole.
They finished lunch while they agreed a plan. They would take it in turns to watch the bank and report back to the others if they saw anyone of interest. Angel offered to do the first watch, even though Cole pointed out that officially he wasn’t part of the team.
‘Whereas I am a fully fledged member,’ Hedge blurted out sarcastically.
‘You may not be an expert in espionage, but you are part of the team. You heard the PM’s orders,’ Cole reminded him.
‘Yeah, proper part of the team now, that’s you. Perhaps we should stop calling you Hedge, from now on I think ‘Ledge’ would be more appropriate,’ Fuller said with a
smile.
‘Nice one, very funny,’ said Hedge.
He felt tired after his earlier experience and just wanted to go and lay down for a while. Cole told him to do just that, while they dropped Angel back near the bank.
The three of them headed off and Hedge made his way up to his room. He was planning a hot bath, a decent cup of tea, and a long lay down. The heat of this place was tiring, and he was still feeling very anxious about the whole mission, and his personal involvement in it.
Meanwhile Fuller was driving the others back towards the city centre. As they approached the bank building, he slowed the car and stopped at the side of the road. Angel jumped out. He was dressed in plain brown, cotton trousers and a white shirt and he blended in well with the other people walking down the busy street.
‘Pick me up here at five o’clock then. Unless I see one of our targets in which case I will give you a call. See you later.’
Angel walked off casually as Cole and Fuller drove back to the hotel to get some rest.
The road was busy with traffic in both directions. The pavement had a steady stream of people going about their normal routines. Angel walked two hundred yards along the road until he was directly opposite the bank. He sat down on a polished, wooden bench which was shaded by some palm trees. A woman dressed completely in black sat at the other end of the bench. She was chatting away on her cell phone and didn’t seem to notice Angel. He unfolded the newspaper he was carrying and started to read it, occasionally looked up from the paper when anyone either went up or came down the stairs at the front of the bank. He watched intently for a while but he didn’t recognise anyone.
He had been sitting on the bench for almost an hour. The woman with the phone had gone a short while ago. A young boy had sat down near him and was eagerly eating what looked like a flat bread sandwich. The smell of cooked cheese was being wafted towards Angel by a very slight breeze. He looked at the boy as he continued to devour his snack and it made his mouth water – it was a while since breakfast he thought to himself.
It was time for him to move on as he didn’t want to attract attention to himself. As he stood, a black saloon car pulled up at the kerb nearby. The window went down and the driver leaned out and shouted across to him. ‘Hey, am I heading in the right direction for the Jumeirah coast road.’
Angel moved forward towards the car and leaned down near to the driver. ‘Yes, you’re on the right track. Just fork left about half a mile ahead and it will be clearly signposted.’
‘Great thanks,’ the driver said as the window went up.
Angel straightened back up.
Then everything went black.
Chapter Thirty
Angel woke up with a terrible pain coming from the back of his head. He tried to move his hands but he quickly realised they were bound securely above him. He felt confused and tried to work out where he was, but it wasn't immediately obvious. He seemed to be lying face down on a hard plastic floor of some kind. The surface felt slightly wet and it was gently swaying up and down.
He realised he must be on a boat.
He tried to focus his eyes as he looked towards his hands. They were tied securely with rope to a silver coloured metal ring. He tried to move his legs but they felt equally well tied. His guessed that his head was facing the rear of the boat and he turned to face forward. He could now get a feel for the size of the vessel, and he could make out the rough outline of its shape. It was a modern looking motor yacht. The kind he had often seen in the marinas and boatyards all over the world. He could see the right hand side of the boat quite clearly. There was a bench seat running from the back all the way along to where the cabin began. Sitting on the bench were two young women, one dark skinned and one white. Both were wearing bikinis and both were staring at him.
‘Hey, does one of you lovely ladies want to cut me loose?’ he shouted across to them.
The women didn't respond but just kept glaring at him.
A few seconds later the door of the cabin swung open and a man came out. He was tanned, with dark hair and a well-groomed beard. He wore what appeared to be a white bathrobe, tied at the waist. He walked over to where the two women sat and spoke directly to the dark skinned one.
‘I need you to go and get yourself a large drink. I've got a little task lined up for you.’
‘That’s nice of you Tariq, but I don't need a drink at ....’
Her sentence was cut short as the man she called Tariq gave her a backhanded slap across her face. It wasn't carried out with very much force, but she looked back at him with a shocked expression.
‘Just do as I say and don't argue,’ he said. ‘If you girls behave yourselves I will let you watch the fun.’
The dark woman hesitated just a second to prove a point, then rose and walked into the cabin. Angel heard what sounded like a fridge door opening and the girl came back holding a large plastic bottle.
Tariq walked slowly over to where Angel was laying. He lifted his foot and put it down heavily on the side of his face.
‘So you are the one they call The Angel. You don't look very angelic to me. In fact you look like a bit of a thug.’
He smiled as he pressed down harder with his foot on Angel’s face. It felt slightly uncomfortable because his right cheekbone was being forced against the hard plastic floor.
‘I need to know what your friends are up to right now, and what they are planning,’ he said.
‘In your dreams,’ said Angel, although the words came out slurred due to the fact that his mouth was distorted out of shape by Tariq’s boot.
‘I expected you to say something like that.’
He looked towards the cabin of the boat and shouted something in Arabic. Angel knew some words and phrases in that language, but this was a strange dialect and he didn’t understand what was being said.
Almost immediately the cabin door opened and a younger man stepped out. He was dressed in a blue boiler suit and was carrying what looked like a small tool bag. He reached the back of the boat and looked down at Angel with a grin on his face. Tariq nodded at him and the man in the boiler suit reached into his bag and pulled out a small craft knife. Angel thought it looked like the sort of implement that a carpet fitter would use. It looked sharp. The man in the boiler suit moved over and squatted down next to Angel.
Chapter Thirty One
‘One last chance, do you wish to tell me what your friends are planning?’ Tariq said this without any expectation that his captive would talk.
‘Get lost you faggot,’ replied Angel.
Although Tariq had been made aware that the man before him was a formidable character, what he didn’t realise was that Angel had never broken under interrogation before, and he wasn’t planning on doing so now. He was something of a legend in his old army unit. He had been captured briefly by Republican militants in Northern Ireland many years ago. Despite having to suffer terrible torture for nearly three hours, he never gave up any information. Not even his name. He had eventually been rescued by a Special Forces team and all of his captors had been ruthlessly eliminated.
His superiors had questioned him on his return to his unit, and they found it hard to believe that he had not talked under interrogation. It was even more unbelievable given the appalling injuries he had received. Amongst other things, his fingernails had been removed with pliers, and a blowtorch had been used liberally on his back. He had screamed at that of course, but to Angel it seemed quite bearable.
Ever since he was a young boy he found he had a strange resistance to pain. Perhaps his nervous system wasn’t fully developed, or his brain didn’t process nerve signals correctly. Whatever the reason, what other people regarded as potentially horrific pain, Angel shrugged off without too much fuss. He had become known as ‘the Angel who never sang’. It was well known that people who had talked under interrogation were said to have sung.
Angel didn’t sing.
So when the man with the carpet knife started to cut deep a deep groove
into his back, Angel didn’t even flinch. He could feel the knife cutting through his skin and he could feel the blood running down his sides, but the pain was bearable.
Tariq watched on with fascination. He had been given a full briefing on his captive, so he knew that it was not going to be an easy task to break this man. He gave a small nod of his head and the younger man made another deep cut into Angel’s back, this time longer, around twelve inches in length. More blood started pouring from his back, but still there was no reaction from Angel.
The man with the knife looked up at Tariq. He nodded again. The next cut was very long, and was deliberately made along Angel’s spine, starting from near the back of his neck. Angel could feel the blade digging deep into his flesh and bouncing off the small bones and vertebrae that made up his backbone. The cut was slow and deliberate and finished just above his buttocks. There was a lot of blood by now.
The two women were staring at the scene unfolding before their eyes. They both looked shocked by what they were witnessing. They said nothing though, and continued to watch with a mixture of horror and intrigue.
Tariq pushed the younger man away. He called the dark skinned girl over from where she was sitting. She looked scared at first, but slowly walked over when he repeated his request more aggressively.
‘Squat down over him,’ he told her.
She looked surprised but did as she was told.
‘All I need you to do is pee,’ he said, and laughed loudly.
As most people are aware, it is not easy to urinate on request, but the girl had been swigging from the large, cold drink that she had taken from the fridge in the cabin. She looked embarrassed at first, but Tariq scowled at her through clenched teeth. She pulled the crotch of her bikini to one side and after a few seconds her flow started. It was just a trickle initially but then became faster.
The Palindrome Cult: A gripping, page-turning, crime suspense thriller, its fast pace takes you from London to New York, via Dubai and the Virgin Islands. (Hedge & Cole Book 1) Page 12