by N. J. Mercer
“One kick is all it will take,” Boyd replied confidently. “Sascha, once we have access follow us in and close the doors to both flats just like nothing happened. Any questions?”
“No.”
“No.”
“The idea is we blitz the place: the whole thing should take a few seconds.”
Johnny had little experience in such a direct approach and deferred entirely to his friend’s instruction.
“Johnny, use your mind to make sure nobody’s coming down the corridor,” Boyd said.
Johnny focused his psychic senses to scan the apartment block. There was some activity about two floors up, otherwise, they were clear.
“Go ahead …” Johnny whispered.
“Stay close!” hissed Boyd as Sascha opened the door and he sped out of the room with Johnny following. Boyd strode across the corridor in only two great steps and in one smooth motion swung his right leg up and kicked outwards in a stamping motion that impacted just below the handle, blasting open the door and ripping off a bit of the frame with a cracking sound. The forced entry was over in the blink of an eye. Seeing Boyd in action left no doubt in Johnny that their new companion had done this before … on more than one occasion.
On the other side of the broken door, a terrified, chubby man ran as fast as his physique would allow him to away from the raiders; in the confined apartment there was no escape. Boyd, charging in, caught sight of him retreating to a far room and gave chase. Johnny followed close behind. Last in was Sascha who, in stark contrast, crept along quietly securing the damaged door behind him as if nothing was going on inside.
Boyd went straight for the kill; he caught up with the other man in the doorway to the sitting room and immediately had him in a headlock which he used to drag his body onto the couch. The poor man was full of fear and he mumbled uncontrollably. He turned his head to look Boyd in the face for the first time.
“Oh, no, it’s you!” his faltering voice exclaimed with a strong Glaswegian accent.
Boyd put a finger to his lips and made a ‘Ssshhhhhh’ sound. The other man opened his mouth to say something; no words came out, just a strange gurgling noise. The terror of the moment prevented him from vocalising correctly. Boyd shook his head at the man and told him to ‘sshhhh’ again and he slowly fell quiet, just about controlling his shaking body.
“Good boy,” said Boyd. “Just keep quiet now.”
Sascha remained as guard at the front door while Johnny followed Boyd into the living room. Johnny deplored the violence, and he had to convince himself that the end justified the means. On entering, he saw Boyd with his intimidating six-foot-three frame towering over a terrified man with long, curly brown hair on the couch; a thick-set individual with dark-rimmed glasses. Once Johnny was present, Boyd commenced with a gentle interrogation.
“First of all, let me apologise for the rude interruption. If you had opened the door for my friend here it would have made life a lot easier for us all. Now, my first question is where on earth do you think you have seen me before?”
“You were here last night; I saw you go to Martin’s flat,” mumbled the man.
“Aahh, a nosy parker,” said Boyd, “very good, that’s exactly what we need.”
“S-s-sorry, it’s just that last night freaked me out so much,” said the chubby chap in a feeble voice.
“It’s okay,” said Boyd. “We just have a few questions.”
“W-w-who are you?” asked the man.
Boyd looked at Johnny who took this as the cue to take over questioning.
“What’s your name?” Johnny asked, ignoring the previous question. The other man hesitated.
“C’mon, son, your name, he’s just trying to be friendly,” coaxed Boyd with a hint of menace. Johnny could see that he and Boyd were automatically slipping into a ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine, unintentionally – on his part anyway.
“D-D-Dave,” stuttered the unfortunate man.
“Dave. Thank you, that’s a good start. I’m not going to tell you exactly who we are, Dave; consider us as friends of Martin’s,” Johnny explained. “Not friends like buddies you have from school or go out drinking with; let’s just say we are on his side. He actually came to one of us for help. He was in big trouble, and as far as we can tell the trouble caught up with him. All we want to do is help him out.” Johnny tried to project an aura of warmth and reassurance both psychically and physically as he spoke. He sensed a feeling of relief creep into Dave, even though the overriding emotion was still fear, much of it directed at Boyd unsurprisingly. He continued to speak. “Look, I know you saw what happened, and I know it must have frightened you. We are here to try and sort things out. Martin’s a good guy and he needs our help. Will you help us to help him, Dave?”
Johnny could sense that Dave was going to open up to them soon and needed just a little more persuasion. “You saw something but didn’t go to the police, Dave,” Johnny continued. “I understand you were afraid and have been hiding here; the police might have been able to help. Now we are Martin’s only chance. Will you help us, Dave?”
Dave nodded in acquiescence and Johnny sensed all his reservations fall away. The strategy had worked; he would talk to them now.
“Good lad,” said Boyd patting Dave on the shoulder just to remind him he was still there.
“What would you like to know?” asked Dave, his voice was calmer.
“Everything,” Johnny replied, “from the beginning, how you met Martin, what you know about him, every conversation you had with him and what you saw that scared you so much.” Johnny suspected that he already knew the answer to the last question.
“Hey, look, I may not be able to remember everything you need to know,” said Dave, worried at the amount of information they were after.
“That’s okay,” reassured Johnny, “just tell me whatever you can remember. Try your best to recall everything accurately, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” nodded Dave, and he began his story.
Chapter 11
“I’ve lived in this very flat for five years. When I moved here this place was newly built. Martin came along about twelve months later I reckon,” started Dave.
“Do you live here alone?” Boyd cut in abruptly.
A good question, thought Johnny, they didn’t want any interruptions.
“Yeah, I live here alone,” Dave replied in his broad Glaswegian accent.
“Are you expecting any guests today?” Boyd’s tone was brusque.
“No! No, I’m not.”
The big man turned to Johnny. “Is he lying?”
Johnny did not sense any deception.
“He’s not lying.”
“Sascha!” called out Boyd.
“What?” came a distant voice.
“Don’t worry about the door for now; come and listen to this.”
Sascha, who had been keeping a look out through the security lens, sauntered in.
“Okay, we’re all here now; please continue with your story, Dave,” said Johnny. Dave took a moment to remember what he had been saying.
“When Martin first moved in he used to be this happy, positive guy; it was only about two months ago that he became – different – like, really … dark.”
“Dark how?” Johnny interrupted.
“Just brooding and very antisocial. He used to work for his family or something. For his sister I think, yeah, that’s right, his sister and brother-in-law. He used to be really into them.”
“Did you know his family personally?” asked Johnny.
“No, not really. He did tell me a bit about them. He owed a lot to his sister you see. Martin had a really tough background. As a teenager, he ran away from his home in London and lived rough on the streets before moving in with squatters and getting into crime. He was still a young man when a burglary went wrong and he ended up in jail. It was a really shitty time for him as you can imagine. After a short spell, a couple of years I think, he came back out feeling that he had been screwed by the system and totall
y convinced he had messed up his future; then his sister found him. She came along and basically saved him from ending up back on the street. She could help him out mainly because of her husband who was some sort of hot-shot businessman.
“They got him back into society, arranged for him to get trained up in IT and found a job he could do in one of his brother-in-law’s businesses installing and fixing computer networks. That’s another reason why I got to know Martin; I’m into computers too, you see. Martin’s a smart guy, I think it was the streets that made him like that you know, razor sharp. He told me that he picked up computer skills really quickly, and eventually he earned enough cash to get the flat opposite mine, his first place.
“Martin was really into those guys, his sister and her husband – he really owed them. He was doing really well, and just when he thought things couldn’t get any better, they did! He met Louise.”
“Louise?” asked Johnny.
“Yeah, his girlfriend; I think they might have been secretly engaged, just from hints they dropped now and again. She used to work for his sister, nothing major, housekeeping, babysitting, stuff like that, busy girl. I think she also worked behind a bar somewhere. Martin went in for a drink once, not knowing that she would be there, and they got chatting. He did this a few times and then asked her out. That’s how they got together.”
“Martin told you all this?”
“Yeah, he did, we were all right with each other. He was new to the area and wanted a friend and I was there. We were two guys of similar ages, we both liked a drink, smoking a joint together, going out, things just clicked.”
“Where did he live before this flat?”
“As far as I know, he was just moving around for years, renting, working for his sister and brother-in-law and before that it was prison.”
“I see,” nodded Johnny thoughtfully. “Tell me more about Louise.”
“When he started going out with Louise I saw less of him. You know what? That was what I expected; I mean that’s what happens to guys when they find a girl, right? They go off the radar for a while. Besides, she was hot!” Dave chortled. “Well, he didn’t ditch me entirely, we would still hang out. Eventually I got to know Louise myself, not very well though; like I said, she was a busy lady. Oh, yeah! I just remembered something I should have mentioned earlier; more reasons why she was so busy! She used to work in some general store helping an old lady, and she had a kid.”
“A kid?”
“Yeah, Martin mentioned the kid a few times. It was a girl from a previous relationship. Let me think now, what was her name, yeah … it was Rachel! He got on with her really well. So for a while it was all cool for him, good job, great relationship, it was cool until about two years ago when the shit hit the fan big time. Martin told me he was going to Germany for training like he did sometimes. He didn’t come back for around four weeks; he never went away for that long. I only found out he was back when one night I heard noises in the corridor at about two a.m. I went to investigate and saw Martin stumbling around pissed out of his head, reeking of booze. He couldn’t even get his keys into the door. I couldn’t leave him there and went over to help; he was muttering and murmuring to himself. ‘Hey, let’s sort you out,’ I said, or something like that and took him into his flat; you know, just helping an old friend. When we got inside I saw his face clearly; he looked wretched, haunted, there were big bags under his eyes, his skin was yellow, he was unshaven; he looked rough. Our conversation went something like this: ‘Hey, man, what’s going on?’ I asked him. ‘You all right, bud?’ Simple questions you might say, but I wasn’t ready for his reaction – he just broke down in tears.
“What is it?” I asked as I sat him down. I just wanted to help him, you know; he looked like he was in some deep shit.
“There’s been an accident,” he told me between drunken sobs. ‘Louise has gone.’
“I thought he was telling me they had broken up. ‘What happened?’ I asked. He was in such a state that I could hardly make out his words. I kept listening and gathered that Louise had been in an accident in the park – then I knew he wasn’t talking about relationship problems.
“Is she all right?” I asked. He shook his head and started to sob louder. He became withdrawn suddenly and wouldn’t even look at me. I thought I had said something wrong. Then he said something like ‘Dave, thanks for everything. I need to be alone now.’
“I understood he was upset and left. I couldn’t ignore what he had said about Louise being in some sort of accident though. The next morning I went to check on him and he said he was feeling pretty lousy. He remembered that I had helped him get inside the night before. He was really apologetic and I could tell he felt bad that I had seen him like that. I asked him about Louise. I remember that he suddenly found it hard to breathe and said, ‘She’s dead, Dave.’
“I didn’t know what to say; I was shocked. Obviously I had to find out more and asked him what happened. He told me it was all a bit unclear. It appeared that she was attacked by some animal, probably mauled by a dog.
“I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was shocked, ‘Did they catch it?’ I vaguely remember asking – it was a useless question; it was all I could think of. He told me something along the lines of: ‘The police are dealing with it, don’t worry’. He went on to explain that with Louise dead, his sister and brother-in-law were looking after her girl, Rachel.
“I asked him if he was going to be all right, and I don’t think he said anything, he might have nodded or something if I remember correctly; either way, I could see he didn’t want to talk about it which was cool with me. I think I told him he could call at my place any time and drifted back to my flat again.
“I would still see him after that, we were friends; though not as close as before. Most weekends he went up to his sister’s to see Rachel. There was this sadness about him all the time; he must have been depressed.”
Johnny sat quietly with his friends in Dave’s living room, intrigued by the story. He had heard some of it from Boyd when he was recounting his exchanges with Martin; Dave had filled in many of the details. At the mention of the mauling in the park, thoughts of the Firehound had immediately sprung to mind.
“This girl, Rachel, how old do you reckon she is, Dave?” asked Boyd impatiently. Johnny looked at his friend, he was on to something.
Dave rubbed his chin. “When I first heard about her, when Martin and I were good friends, say four years ago, I’m pretty sure he told me she was ten years old. So now she must be fourteen or fifteen.”
Boyd nodded, turned to Johnny and spoke under his breath. “Martin said to me, ‘There’s a girl who needs help, a fifteen-year-old; I’ve known her since she was a kid. The Disciples need her and her sisters for something. I don’t know what, but I need to get her out of there.’”
Johnny realised that his friend had picked up on what could prove to be a very important piece of information. “Carry on, Dave,” he prompted.
Dave continued his story. “Louise died about two years ago. Martin was different after that; like I said, he was probably depressed. Things really changed two months ago, when he started to become strange. There was something more to it than just bereavement; he started to look ill again, just like he did when he first told me about Louise. His face was all tired and miserable. He looked really fucked up. I started seeing him even less, not my fault though, I would always try and call, you know, knock on his door, talk to him, try and hang out like we used to; he was rarely up for it. He was polite enough about it and would just make an excuse, be apologetic; from two months ago it was like that every time. I got the message and didn’t bother calling him much.”
“Why did he become like this?” Johnny asked.
“I don’t know, he never told me.”
“Was there anything else that was unusual after Martin became like this, any new friends? Things he said? Anything you might have picked up on at the time but never thought about?”
Dave sat in
recollection for a moment. “There was something, you remember when I said how much he was into his sister and brother-in-law, how much they had helped him out? Well, I noticed that when this ‘depression’ started he never saw them much even though Rachel was living with them. He never even talked about them. It was like these guys who were his saviours never existed. He never told me why; I always thought he must have fallen out with them, maybe that was why he was like that.”
Johnny nodded. “Did he ever mention their names to you?”
“Who? His sister’s and brother-in-law’s?”
“Yes, theirs.”
“Yeah, he did, ages ago, don’t ask me what they were though; I’m really bad with names.”
“Do you know where they live? Where did he go whenever he went to see them?”
Dave shook his head. “I don’t know, Martin never told me exactly. It was somewhere really out of the way. I know he used to see them when he went up to stay with Louise. They didn’t live far from her; I mean she used to work at their house.”
“So where did Louise live then?”
“Hilvern – a wee village in the Highlands.”
Sascha, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. “You said Louise was attacked by this dog when she died. Do you have any more details about what happened, descriptions of the animal, anything like that?”
“Not really,” Dave shook his head slowly, trying to remember, “except that it happened in the village itself, in a park. I remember Martin mentioned she was in a park in Hilvern when she was attacked.”
“Which park?” asked Sascha.
Johnny could almost hear his friend’s mind furiously whirring away.
Again, Dave shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you, buddy, it’s a wonder I have been able to tell you what I have already. I mean, it’s a conversation that started two years ago. I only remember what I do because it was so shocking at the time. I’m sorry, I’m a dope-smoker, the old memory ain’t what it used to be. It’s only a small village; there can’t be many parks there.”
“So what happened last night? What freaked you out?” Johnny asked Dave, bringing the story forward to more recent events.