‘The Wentworth place? But I don’t even know where it is.’
‘Your grandmother does.’ He nodded at the letter. ‘It’s all in there.’
‘Do the Wentworths know about this?’
‘Naturally.’
‘But how – I mean, Tabby told me the place was miles away. How’d you get in touch?’
‘You don’t want to know that, Zoe. If you don’t make it – if DS get you, then the less you know the better. Read the letter, memorise your grandma’s directions and I’ll destroy it when I come after school.’
He left some food and went away. I was down. I mean really depressed. In fact I guess you could say I hated myself because he made me see what I’d done. All those people including my own grandmother in danger of their lives because of me. I didn’t touch the food – I had no appetite. I sat in the dark, thinking about Grandma and my parents and what it’d be like to see Tabby again. I thought about being caught by DS, too, and wondered what Daz was doing right now. After a while I switched on the torch and read Grandma’s letter.
It seemed Wentworth had built his refuge in a place Grandma knew quite well – a much visited beauty spot of sixty, seventy years ago, about thirty miles east of the city. Clanton Rocks, it was called in those days. She’d written detailed instructions about how to get there, and there was a sketch map done from memory. She warned that of course things would’ve changed a lot in the meantime, told me to travel at night if possible and wished me luck. At the end she’d put
‘We are members one of another.’
I guess that’s a quote but I didn’t get it at the time. I cried a bit because these were probably the last words of hers I’d ever have. Then I thought about what a tough little woman she must be to have done all she’d done, and I dried my eyes. Her blood was in my veins, wasn’t it? There’s a time to cry and a time to be tough, and now it was time to be tough.
When James came again, I’d be ready.
It was just after three when the cops arrived. I heard a siren but I’d been hearing them for two days, coming closer and closer, then fading as the cars went by.
This one didn’t. Its wail swelled till it was like the car was right there in the roof-space, then it cut out abruptly and I heard doors – car doors and school doors, mixed up with voices and footsteps and the sounds excited kids make. Chairs squealed on the plank floor and I pictured cops in the schoolroom, opening, probing, overturning. Terror held me rigid. Within seconds they’d ransacked the classroom and were directly beneath me. I heard the teacher’s voice raised in protest, and another I thought I’d heard before. There was some banging and cursing and milling around, and then somebody said, ‘Well – she’s gotta be here somewhere,’ and it was Pohlman.
I heard them go back to the classroom but I knew they weren’t leaving. No way. Not after what Pohlman just said. He’d obviously had a tipoff and I knew what he’d do. He’d post somebody outside in case I tried to run, and then he’d lead a far more thorough search. They’d start with the lobby and work their way through the building and nothing – not even the smallest spider – would escape their notice. And when they got to the washroom again Pohlman would see the trap, and smile.
I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit shivering like a trapped animal, waiting till they came for me. Because it wasn’t just me, was it? It was Grandma and Daz and Mr James and all the others. I might not die if they caught me but others would. Who knows how many in the end? I must take control of my fear and get myself out of this.
In total darkness I crawled, feeling my way to the trap. I hooked my fingers under its rim and raised it ever so slightly. The washroom door was open. I listened. In the schoolroom, kids were talking in subdued tones. Adult voices farther off told me I’d been right – they were searching the lobby, and it wouldn’t take long. Then they’d start on the classroom, but would they search it while it was full of kids? I didn’t think so, and this gave me an idea. It wasn’t a brilliant idea. In fact it was probably a stupid idea which would only get me caught a few minutes sooner than if I stayed where I was, but it was the only thing I could think of so it would have to do.
I eased the trap down gently. Then, risking torchlight for the sake of speed I scooped up blankets, flask and bucket and, bent double, scurried into a far corner where I stood the bucket upside down with the flask inside. The blankets I carried to another corner, pushing them down between joists. Like all roof spaces, this one had its share of accumulated bits and pieces and I hoped the cops wouldn’t notice the stuff I’d used. This done, I returned to the trap, doused the light and stuck the torch in the band of my jeans.
I raised the trap a little. The washroom was unoccupied. In the classroom a man was yelling at the kids. ‘Come on, c’m on – outside. Let’s go now.’ It was what I’d expected. I raised the trap halfway and eased myself through, supporting the door with my shoulders, the back of my head and finally on my knuckles. I couldn’t prevent the slight bang as it fell into position when I dropped, but the sound was masked by the racket the kids were making as they clattered through scattered chairs and milled around the door.
I breathed a prayer and walked out into the classroom. At the far end a cop stood, fists on hips, watching the push and shove. He wasn’t looking my way and I was able to attach myself to the rear of the boisterous scrum. The kids were too busy giving the cops a hard time to notice the new pupil, and I kept my head down as we pushed toward the door.
Pohlman was my problem now. In my present filthy state I can’t have looked much different from the kids around me, but the lieutenant and I had met. If we came face to face in the lobby it would all be over. I realised that if I was last out or nearly last, I’d be conspicuous. I needed to pass through the lobby in the middle of a surge of kids. I began shoving with my shoulder, worming my way through impossible gaps as I fought my way forward. I got a couple of elbows in the ribs but nobody moaned. Anything that made the cops’ job harder was part of the fun.
It wasn’t long until the big moment arrived. Jammed momentarily in the creaking doorframe, we exploded into the lobby and were propelled forward on to the backs of those who battled to pass the outer door. I had a glimpse of Pohlman, white with anger, pressed against the wall. He’d probably stationed himself there with the idea of scanning the kids’ faces as they passed, but it hadn’t worked out that way.
Around the outer door the procedure was repeated. Slowly forward, shoving and being shoved; a brief, asphyxiating hesitation during which I saw, between the heads of those in front, James looking strained with his pupil register tucked under his arm, then explosive release into air and space.
The instant I cleared the doorway I doubled back through hurtling bodies and ran, bent over like in the roof space only faster, to the corner and away along the side of the building. Every moment I expected to hear the command ‘halt’, but I made it to the next corner and swung round it unchallenged. I was now outside the washroom, with the building between me and every-body else and nothing but derelict land behind. I glanced around. There was nobody in sight, and as long as I stayed close to the wall I couldn’t be seen from the washroom window.
I breathed in deeply, praying that Pohlman wouldn’t decide to walk round the outside of the school. At the far end I heard James calling the roll, kids’ voices going sir, sir, sir. I knew the instant Pohlman spotted the trap because he cried out and I heard the drag of the step ladder across the floor, the slam of the trap. As I listened, hardly daring to believe I’d given them the slip, my eyes scanned the terrain. About fifty yards away I saw a small heap of broken bricks. If the worst came to the worst – if they came round this way – that’s where I’d go.
I didn’t have to. They slammed around inside for a while, snarling and kicking things, then gave up. Pohlman came out and yelled at James, who wouldn’t be too worried about that, but would be wondering how in blue blazes he’d got away with it and what the heck had become of me. When Pohlman was through shouting the
y got in the car and drove off, and after giving them a minute to get clear I walked away, eating Grandma’s letter as I went.
DAZ
Cal got our pad staked owt. I seenem frou the windo soonas I got hoam. 2 guys. 1 on the corner smoaking 1 ded opozit doing noffing. Mustav seen me com hoam, told Cal. Anityme now Cal orders com and I know wot. Go in and killim thats wot.
Gotta hyde. Me and Mam. I know wear. Mam I sez. DRED coming 4 me I gotta hyde. You 2 I sez cos I know that Cal. He cant find me, top you insted no hezzy tayshon. Mam scairt. Tekka pill Mam I sez. She tekka pill, I luck owt the windo seen the 2 guys coming, pockets fat wiv guns. Com on Mam i sez. no she sez. shex her hed. i vad enuff our Daz. cant take no more, leev me hear she sez. i got my pills, you go son an god bless.
i dont wanta leaver but no tyme 2 arg you. i hit them baysmen steps as Cal guys bang frou the doar. they gon up the partmen firs or i never maykit but I got under that furniss. I dint forgoten Zoe but cant get up the school no way til Cal guys gon.
In the dark waiting I fink ov Zoe in the dark waiting and Mams god bless and i cry a littel bit. evry 1 cry somtyme even you.
ZOE
Three thirty-five. What I thought I’d do was find a derelict building to hide in till it got dark, then head for Daz’s place. Thanks to me, the city was getting a bit too hot for Daz, and I was pretty confident he’d want to go with me to the Wentworth place. I wasn’t sure about his mother, though, and I wondered whether he’d leave her if she refused to budge.
I could see a line of gutted houses about half a mile away, and I was heading toward them when I saw a sheet of paper on the ground in front of me. I noticed it because it looked clean and new and because it had my face on it.
I picked it up. It was a sort of handbill. Across the top in big black print was the word KIDNAP. Under the picture it said HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL? and went on to mention a substantial reward. All you had to do was find a police officer and give your information. I screwed it up and shoved it in my pocket, but when I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed I saw the whole area littered with them. The cops must’ve flown over in fans, chucking the things out by the handful. It was just what I needed, my picture all over the city.
I started to walk faster, keeping my head down. I couldn’t actually see anybody but the bills had thrown a scare into me and I was glad when I reached the first of the old houses.
I piled four bricks in a corner and sat on them. I saw a cat and a bird or two but no people. Toward dusk it began to drizzle. The house had no roof. My anorak was supposed to be showerproof but my shoulders were soon wet and so were my knees. By the time it was properly dark I was shivering. I got up and walked toward the city. My jeans clung to my legs and my anorak pockets were wet inside. I comforted myself with the thought that I must look just like a Chippy. I certainly felt like one.
It was still raining and there were few people to be seen as I approached the dilapidated block Daz called home. Nevertheless, I didn’t go straight up to the door, but stood for a minute or two in the doorway of an abandoned shop, watching and listening. All seemed quiet. No children were playing in the lobby. I shifted my gaze to the damp-scarred face of the building till it found the right window. No light showed there, but this was not unusual. The electricity supply was sporadic because fuel to run the generator was hard to come by, and unreliable because the generator itself was ancient. An hour’s uninterrupted current was an event, a full evening of TV virtually unknown. Candles burned in some of the windows but candles, too, were in short supply.
I crossed the road and walked into the dark lobby. It was deserted. The dead elevator wore a shroud of shadow. The stench was familiar now. I took the stairs.
The door of the apartment stood open. I took one step into the hallway and stopped.
‘Daz?’ No answer.
‘Mrs Barraclough?’ Silence. The place had an empty feel to it, yet I couldn’t believe neither occupant was in. Daz often went out after dark, I knew that, but his mother didn’t. Ever, she told me. So she had to be here, unless -.
I heard a small sound behind me but before I could react an arm was thrown round my waist, a hand clamped my mouth and a soft voice murmured in my ear. ‘No noise, now. No noise at all, or the world’s total of Subbies will fall by one.’
He wasn’t a big guy. No taller than me, in fact, but his grip was good. I struggled for a while and lashed out backwards with my foot, but it was no use. He turned me, pushed me back to the stairs and we hobbled down, awkwardly, his mouth in my hair saying, ‘Down we go. There’s a good girl, now. All the way down.’
He shoved and wrestled me down to the basement where I saw two men, one with a torch and one with a gun. They were near the old furnace.The little guy pushed me toward them. The one with the torch shone it in my eyes.
‘Who’s this, Cal?’
Cal! So I’m at Cal’s mercy now. The merciless Cal.
‘This?’ Cal chuckled. ‘Why, this is nothing less than the answer to all our recent prayers, Mick my boy.’ He faced the furnace and called, ‘Hey, Mister Barraclough. Here’s a friend wants to see you.’ He removed his hand from over my mouth, grabbed my ear and gave it a twist that damn near tore it off. I screamed.
‘Zoe?’ As Daz called out I saw it all. DRED had come for him and he’d taken refuge where he’d always taken it – in the crawlspace under the furnace. They’d found him somehow, but short of dismantling the base brick by brick, there was no way they could’ve got him out of there. No way, that is, till I came along.
Cal released me and I considered making a run for it. If I got away, maybe Daz could hold out till morning when the police would resume their search for me and Cal would be forced to leave. He must’ve read my mind or something, because he smiled coldly and murmured, ‘Don’t even think about it. Smithy here’s a crack shot. You’d be dead before you hit the floor.’ He turned. ‘Darren, you’re keeping the lady waiting. Where’s your manners, lad?’
If I come out,’ said Daz, ‘Will you let her go?’
‘You have my word, and you know I’m a man of my word.’
‘What’ll you do to him?’ I asked, though I guess I knew the answer.
He looked at me. ‘Do to him? Why I’m going to kill him of course. What else?’
‘Daz,’ I cried, ‘Don’t come out. They’ll kill you if you do.’
‘And we’ll kill her if you don’t,’ countered Cal. ‘And we’ll get you anyway, in the end.’
I’m no heroine. D’you know what a heroine would’ve done right then? A heroine in a book? She’d have made a dash for it, forced ’em to kill her so they had nothing to bargain with. It occurred to me, but I didn’t do it. Couldn’t. Maybe I don’t love Daz enough. I don’t know. Anyway, I hope you’re never faced with a choice like that. You think about it afterwards and it’s heavy. It screws you up.
Daz was coming out. I could hear him scraping the wall, shuffling sideways in the narrow space. Coming out to die. The guy with the torch, Mick, shone it in his face as he emerged. Daz lifted a hand to shield his eyes, looking for Cal.
‘Okay, you got me. Let her go.’
Cal smiled. ‘All in good time, lad. We don’t want her fetching the law before we’re through here, now do we?’
Daz squinted at him. ‘How long does it take to kill a guy? You’ll be through before she’s up the stairs.’
Mick sniggered and Cal said, ‘Oh no, lad. You don’t understand. What we have here is a breakdown of understanding. Killing can be pretty quick, that’s true, but it can also be – how shall I put it – dragged out.’ He gazed into Daz’s eyes. ‘Take Pete now. You remember Pete of course – my good friend Pete, whom you shot in the back? Yes, of course you do. Now Pete’s death was one of the quick ones. In fact you could say he never knew what hit him. You on the other hand, will know exactly what hits you. We’ll begin, I think, with a kneecap. Young Zoe here can watch.’ He turned to me, ‘Tell me, have you ever seen a kneecap blown off? Have you heard the noise th
e victim makes? No?’ He shook his head, sadly. ‘Terrible, it is. I don’t even like to think about it.’ As he spoke, he drew a revolver from the pocket of his raincoat. He gestured to the two men. ‘Bring him over here and keep a good hold of him.’ He leered at Daz. ‘This is going to hurt you a lot more than it’ll hurt me.’ He stooped, thrusting the gun into the crook of Daz’s knee. I cringed and turned my face away as the shot rang out.
The shot, and the agonised scream which followed it echoed deafeningly through the basement. Sick with horror, yet driven by a compulsion I was powerless to resist I turned. Daz, supported by Mick and Smithy, was still on his feet. Cal was kneeling on the floor with his arms wrapped round his stomach, screaming. His broken glasses lay in a crimson splotch on the floor. As I gaped, the two men let go of Daz and turned toward the stairs. I turned, too. Pohlman was crouching on the bottom step with a smoking gun in his fist. Smithy was raising his own weapon when Pohlman fired again. The gunman spun round and crumpled, his pistol skittering away across the cement. Mick, seeing Pohlman momentarily distracted, doused his torch and made a dash for it, knocking the policeman sideways and leaping on to the stairs. There was a shot, a cry and a metallic clatter. A light which had been shining from somewhere behind Pohlman went out and the basement was plunged into blackness.
A grip clamped my arm, Daz yelled, ‘Come on!’ and I was dragged, totally blind, across the floor. I don’t know how he knew where to go, but almost at once I tripped on the first step and then we were climbing. There was a heck of a racket – shouting, shooting, some sort of motor. Anyway, there we were, going up into blackness and then I saw light – a glimmer and some flashes and we were up in the lobby and somebody had a spotlight on it so I couldn’t see much more than in the dark.
I’m not sure, but I think we were shot at as we burst out on the street. Who shot at us I don’t know – it might’ve been DRED, or the cops, or both. Or they might’ve been shooting at each other and we got in the way. Anyway, DRED was there in strength to engage the cops in a fire-fight, and that’s what saved us. We ran through the flash and rattle of small arms fire and everybody was too busy keeping their heads down to worry about us. DS had a fan on the roof of the block and as we set off along the street it came swooping down, chasing us with its spotlamp, but when it slowed to keep pace with us it became a soft target for DRED, whose concentrated fire forced it to climb away. We ran on, gasping and sobbing, and when we stopped there was darkness all around and the fight was far behind.
Daz 4 Zoe Page 12