The men on their knees before us, excluding Damien of course, hadn’t done anything towards us. They were mere guards and, if what Josh had told us was true, were only a step away from being prisoners themselves. Their rank of guard told us they hadn’t killed or raped any of the women. Their only crime, cowardice. I actually felt tinge of pity for them.
‘Fuck prisoners Darren, they were going to rape my girl.’
On hearing this from Andy, Bobby started crying even more.
‘Guys, nobody is killing anyone,’ I said. ‘Let’s get the women out of that shed and get the fuck out of here. We’ll take the prisoners with us and deal with them when we’re safe. We haven’t got long. It’s going to be dark soon and we need to find some shelter away from here, before the dead arrive.’
Time was getting on and we needed to find the keys for the minibus that was parked in front of the soldiers’ and guards’ living quarters. We sent Josh to secure the main gate in case any deedaz came. Darren sent Andy and Bobby to free the women, hoping, if they saw Bobby, they’d feel more at ease and come with us without much fuss. After that they were to release Josh’s friends, who’d been kidnapped with him from the boating club’s clubhouse. Before they left, Bobby came over and hugged Darren and me. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘No need to thank us Bobby, we’re family,’ Darren told her. She gave us one last squeeze, turned and followed her dad to the sheds to liberate the captives there.
Darren and I walked to the large central house, after we’d zip-tied Damien’s and the guard’s hands together. We were both intrigued to see what kind of woman would stand by and watch her husband become a psychopathic, murderous tyrant.
Chapter 43
On our way to the house, I asked Darren, ‘Did you say it?’
‘Say what?’ he asked, a puzzled look on his face.
‘When you pulled the machete from behind your head, did you say it?’ I asked again.
He stopped and looked at me, searching for some clue as to what the fuck I was on about. Then the penny dropped.
‘Yippee-kai-yay motherfucker! Aw shit, I didn’t fuckin say it mate. That would have been awesome. I’m gutted,’ Darren said, genuinely saddened by his failure to say the famous movie quote as he’d dispatched the two lieutenants.
I continued walking, tutting and shaking my head. ‘I’m gutted for you mate. Very poor. Very poor indeed.’
‘I’ll say it now,’ he shouted as I walked away.
‘Don’t make the day any worse, mate. Just let it go,’ I said sadly over my shoulder, adding ‘Game face’ as he caught up to me.
We stacked up outside the door and entered the dark and dingy house guns up, covering all angles, truly expecting some sort of last stand from this obviously trapped and desperate woman. What I was not expecting was walking into the room and immediately becoming entranced with it.
The windows had been covered and boarded up but the light that filtered through the door was enough to be able see comfortably.
The room we were in was large and, at first glance, looked to be some sort of communal area. On closer inspection, however, it turned out to be one of the nicest places I’d ever seen. Lavishly decorated with leather sofas laid out on the perimeter. It also had a pool table placed in the middle of the room. At the far end was a well-stocked bar and next to it a professional poker table and roulette wheel. In another corner was a well-equipped multi gym, free weights and a punch bag hanging from the ceiling. This wasn’t a communal area at all, it was the mother of all fucking man caves. It was beautiful. I pirouetted and took in the glorious sights. It was like Disney Land. I looked at Darren to see if he was as impressed as me. He just shook his head at my lack of game face and nodded towards a small circular stage with a pole in its centre. Fuck. It wasn’t a man cave. It was Satan’s play room.
‘Sorry mate,’ I said when I’d realised my mistake. Darren nodded in acknowledgment and then in a flash, suddenly aimed his gun towards the shadows in the far corner of the room.
It was her. Or was it? Whoever it was, was just sitting there in the corner dressed in filthy, tattered clothes. Her dirty lank hair hung down around her face as she stared at the floor, looking like some sort of banshee from a horror film.
This was not what I expected the wife of Gippa to look like. Not even close. I was expecting a blonde, brazen, trophy wife that had been lavished with all the trappings a First Lady desired. Not this waif-like shadow of a girl who sat in front of us.
At first I thought she must have been one of the women we’d come to save and Bobby had been confused. This couldn’t be her. Could it?
‘Are you Gippa’s wife?’ I asked.
Her head slowly rose. Her featureless face hidden in the shadows.
‘Are you Gippa’s wife?’ I repeated, this time with a tad more aggression in my voice.
In the darkened room I saw her head lean to one side like a curious puppy. The silence was broken when I heard my name being said. Not my stage name but my Christian name. Nobody knew my Christian name. I hadn’t even told Darren it. Everyone knew me as Carter.
Then I heard it again.
The woman stood up, came from out of the shadows and into the dim light, brushing the greasy and matted hair from her dirty face.
Now I knew where I’d heard Gippa’s name before. His name was Paul Gibson and his ‘wife’ was my fucking ex!!
To be continued.
It's Grim Up North (Book 2): The Island Page 11