“Yes sir,” agreed Jennings. “It’s good to know that you appreciate your position. There’s not many politicians that do.”
Ayres went to one of the fridges and pulled out two cans of Coke. He handed one to Jennings. “I suppose you’ve worked with a lot of politicians in your time,” he said.
Jennings took the can and said, “Yes sir, I have. And no disrespect to yourself sir, but the majority are quite frankly—”
“Arseholes? Wankers?” Ayres interjected.
“Well, I wasn’t quite going to go that far,” laughed Jennings.
Ayres opened his can and took a drink. “You can say what you like to me Jennings. I agree with you about politicians – most of them are out to serve themselves, not the people they represent. The problem is, to change the system you have to be in it. And to be fair, once you’re in it, it’s very hard to resist the temptations that accompany the responsibility.”
“I dare say it is, sir. But you seem to be doing a good job.”
“I’m glad you think so,” said Ayres. “But I might just have to abuse my power and ask you to make me one of those sandwiches. They look quite delicious.”
“I’m sure that I can do that, sir. It would be a pleasure.”
Jennings cut another two slices from the loaf of bread and began preparing a sandwich for Ayres. He could see why the guy was so popular. He possessed a naturally disarming normality that put you immediately at your ease. The media took the piss out of him, christening him ‘call me Jon’, but that was what he was – an ordinary guy, with ordinary tastes and a sense of humour.
“You seem to be a dab hand with food,” said Ayres.
“I try my best, sir. It comes from being a bachelor, and liking good cuisine. I like to eat well, it’s a pleasure that’s overlooked in today’s fast-food culture. People are too busy to enjoy, or appreciate, their food nowadays – a quick snack on the go is all that most of us get the chance for. If you sit and think about what you’re eating, even a simple bit of bread can be a delight.”
Ayres looked thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right. I guess, as a society, we’ve come to treat food as a means to an end: as a God-given right, rather than a blessing to be enjoyed. I think we’ve got to a point where we all should take stock and think about what we’ve got and what we really need, rather than what we think we need.” He paused. “Does that make sense to you?”
Jennings nodded. “Absolutely, sir. I think that if the economic crisis shows us anything, it’s that greed is not necessarily good. To coin a phrase.”
“Well said, Jennings! I like your thinking. Unfortunately, I think it’s more of a spiritual standpoint than a political one. I can’t very well stand up in front of the country and tell people to stop trying to better themselves.”
“But that’s not what I mean.”
“I know that, and you know that. But that’s how people would take it – or at least that’s what the media would make of it anyway. All I can do is what the majority want me to do, that’s what a democracy is all about. If you want to change people’s attitudes then it’s better to be a rock star, a religious guru, or a writer. Or, in some cases, all three.”
Jennings finished making the sandwich and handed it to the Prime Minister. He smiled at the absurdity of the situation.
“What’s so funny?” asked Ayres.
“Nothing, sir,” Jennings replied. “It just seems a bit strange standing here making you a sandwich and chatting away. I suppose it comes under ‘stories to tell your grandchildren’.”
“I’m honoured. But it won’t seem so strange in a few weeks time, it’ll just be part of the job.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “Mmm,” he said. “That is absolutely divine. I might have to put you on the catering roster. You could be a bit like Steven Segal in Under Siege.”
“That’s very flattering, sir. But I’m not really that good a cook. It’s only a sandwich after all.”
Ayres laughed and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s take Appleby his food. He’ll probably be cursing by now, I know what he’s like.”
Chapter 16
Singh looked into the girl’s eyes and saw her mortal fear. He’d been in the same position many times before. He steadied his breath, cleared his mind, and attempted to objectify her. But in the midst of his cold darkness he felt a crack, a fissure of light, an external voice telling him to stop.
He composed himself once more, trying to silence the unwelcome visitor. His arm shook as the battle raged. His head span, his heart choked, and his face contorted. Then his concentration broke.
Hushed voices carried from the corridor. He turned round and looked through the eyeglass. Two men were standing on the other side of the door, dressed in suits and whispering earnestly.
Without thinking he tucked the Browning into his belt. He grabbed the girl roughly and slung her over his sturdy shoulder. She was a liability, but she could prove to be valuable insurance, or at the very least a good shield.
Finally he picked up his leather holdall and headed for the window. The girl kicked and struggled with her bonds, but Kamal was too strong.
“Stop it!” he insisted. “The more you struggle the worse it will be.” He squeezed her midriff hard to emphasize the point. She let out a stifled yelp.
The room was on the first floor at the back of the hotel. He’d already done a feasibility study when he’d checked in the week before. It was twenty feet down to the car park via the fire escape.
He lifted the large window and threw his holdall out onto the metal walkway. He then stooped and thrust himself and the girl through into the cold night air. Behind them the door to the suite burst open. He didn’t look back.
The steps were steep but not un-navigable. Even with his hands full Kamal negotiated them with professional ease. At the bottom he gave the girl another warning squeeze. She was starting to play up again. He repositioned her to protect his back and began to run across the car park towards his Subaru Impreza.
Muffled shots came from above, and bullets pinged off the concrete. Kamal kept in a straight line. Why the hell were they shooting? he wondered. He had a hostage for God’s sake. But hostage or not the salvo continued.
He felt a sting in his side and knew that he had been hit, but the car was near and his momentum carried him forward. He threw the girl and the holdall to the ground, and leapt to safety. Disabling the alarm with his key fob, he opened the driver’s-side door. The bullets stopped.
He picked up the holdall, placed it in the passenger-side foot well, and then looked down at the girl. She was lying still on the concrete, gazing up at him with tearful eyes. She was of no use to him anymore, and she’d seen his face. He pulled the Browning from his waistband, aimed at her head, and squeezed the trigger. There was no sound. The gun had jammed.
With no time for delay he decided to leave her. He would be out of the country by the time they got his description. He jumped into the car and slammed the door. The powerful engine sparked to life and he thrust the gearstick into reverse. The car stalled.
Kamal turned the key but nothing happened. He looked out into the car park and saw the two men running towards him. Springing back out of the Impreza he dragged the girl to her feet, placing her between himself and his pursuers. They hadn’t heeded her before, but she was his last resort. “Stay where you are!” he shouted. “Come any closer and the girl dies!” He stuck the Browning to her temple.
The men stopped and took a look around the car park. Outside the hotel kitchens a couple of chefs had come out for a cigarette. The men nodded to each other and lowered their weapons.
Kamal pushed the girl forward and bundled her into the back seat, keeping himself shielded at all times. He tried the ignition once more and the engine gladly obliged. He backed out, turned, and sped off with burning tyres. Behind him the men slipped away into the shadows.
Chapter 17
Safely out of London Kamal pulled in at the services and tur
ned on the inside light. He looked down to assess the injury. The pain was bearable, but the amount of blood on his shirt suggested that he needed to see to the wound fairly quickly. As a rule he would have gone to his specialist, but that would mean at least another hour’s drive. The best option was to get a room at the motel and apply a field-dressing.
The girl was lying still on the back seat. Her eyes were open and red. Kamal noticed blood pooling beneath her legs. He lifted them gently and saw a dark hole at the rear of her left calf. She had taken a bullet.
He sighed and shook his head. This was something he did not need. He did not need it at all. His options were becoming very limited.
He faced front and thought. There was no way he could shoot the girl there and then. Though his parking spot was fairly isolated it was too risky, and there was no way he could leave her lying on the back seat for prying eyes to come across. He could always secrete her in the boot, but again the chances of being seen lugging her round were too great. Did he have time to take her somewhere secluded and do the job? Probably not – he needed to see to his worsening injury. The only real way out was to take her with him compliantly.
He turned back to face her once more. “Are you in pain?” he asked, without compassion.
The girl nodded.
“That is too bad,” said Kamal. “I can ease the pain if you like, but you will need to cooperate with me. Will you do that?”
Again, the girl nodded.
“Okay then. Now we are getting somewhere.”
Kamal got out of the car and went to the boot. He retrieved a pair of false number plates and stuck them over the existing ones. Returning to the driver’s seat he reached for his holdall, pulled out a black leather jacket, and put it on to cover his bloody midriff. After tying the girl fast so that she couldn’t raise her head to the window, he walked over to the motel.
The lobby was deserted except for the young girl on reception, who was busy learning how to keep her man in ‘ten easy steps’ with the help of Cosmopolitan magazine.
He walked up to her with a friendly smile. “Good evening,” he said cheerily.
“Alright,” said the girl, returning neither the smile nor the enthusiasm.
“I was wondering if you had any rooms available, preferably a twin.”
The girl typed something into her computer. “Yeah,” she said. “We’ve got a twin. It’ll be £60 for the night. Breakfast not included.”
He thanked her and paid with a credit card registered under another of his aliases. He then returned to the car to fetch the girl.
“This is how it is going to work,” he said to her firmly, removing a pair of jogging bottoms from his holdall. “I am going to untie you, and you are not going to make a sound. You will remove your skirt and put these trousers on to cover your wound. You will then come with me to the motel where I will treat you. If you speak or try to attract attention I will break your neck. Do you understand?”
The girl nodded once more.
“Good,” said Kamal.
He untied her hands and feet and handed her the jogging bottoms. Tenderly, and with a fair amount of wincing, she put them on.
Kamal gave her a severe look. “Now then,” he said. “You must untie the gag. Do not even think about screaming.”
The girl removed the material from her mouth. She didn’t say a word.
“This is good,” said Kamal. “I see that we understand each other.”
He helped the girl out of the car. She whimpered a few times but maintained her silence.
Cutting off the pain, with the girl in one arm and the holdall in the other he strode casually towards the motel. His hand was clasped at the girl’s neck as a sharp reminder. They walked through the front doors without a glance from the otherwise-occupied receptionist. Kamal tilted their heads away from the CCTV.
Inside the room he lay the girl down on one of the beds and stripped off his jacket and shirt. Although the blood was plentiful, the bullet had actually just taken a chunk out of his side. Another centimetre and it would have missed completely. He delved into his bag and withdrew a green medical box. After cleaning the gash he layered on some antiseptic and dressed it. He then turned his attention to the girl.
“What is your name?” he asked blandly.
“Annie,” she croaked.
“Well, Annie, I suppose I had better have a look at your leg.”
He removed the jogging pants as gently as he could and rolled her over onto her front. The bleeding had stemmed a little and the wound was beginning to dry. He took a closer look. The bullet had lodged itself in the calf muscle, but not too deep to remove with his limited equipment.
From the medical kit he took out a syringe and a vial. “I’m going to give you a local anaesthetic,” he said. “It should take away most of the pain.”
He injected her and went to scrub his hands with antiseptic wash. After a short wait for the anaesthetic to kick in he removed a pair of sterile surgical tweezers from their packet. “I am going to remove the bullet now,” he said. “You may feel a little discomfort, as they say, but try not to move or it will take a lot longer.”
Annie braced herself for the pain, but apart from a slight tickle she felt nothing.
“That’s it,” said Kamal, examining the bullet.
“That was quick,” she said.
Kamal continued to eye the bullet curiously. “Yes,” he said absent-mindedly.
He placed the bullet on a piece of tissue paper and set about cleaning, stitching and dressing the wound. He worked quickly and skilfully. When he was done Annie sat up on the bed.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Do not mention it. You did as I asked, and I did as I promised. I do not go back on my word.”
“And thank you for not killing me,” she added.
“Do not thank me for that,” he said. “I tried to, but the cosmos intervened.”
“The cosmos?”
“Yes, the cosmos, the universe, whatever you wish to call it. Someone or something intervened on your behalf. If it was not for that, then you would most certainly be dead. It stopped me in the hotel room, and it jammed my gun in the car park. You are an extremely fortunate girl…For the moment anyway.”
The last sentence made Annie shiver. She put it to the back of her mind.
Kamal produced a small bottle of brandy and poured some into a small plastic tumbler. “Have some of this,” he said. “It will help with the pain and shock.”
Annie took a couple of large sips and felt the warmth flow down through her chest. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any food,” she said.
“I have some chocolate. Would you like some?”
“Yes please.”
After demolishing half a bar of Green & Black and finishing the brandy she felt a bit better.
“So what happens now?” she asked as he put on a clean T-shirt.
“Now we try and sleep,” he said.
“No. I mean, what happens after that?”
“What happens tomorrow, will happen tomorrow. Tonight you must sleep.”
He allowed her to use the lavatory, then bound her arms to the headboard and gagged her once again. He wanted an uninterrupted slumber.
Annie lay awake long into the night, wondering what would become of her, and whether she would ever see her little boy again.
Chapter 18
It was eight in the morning and a light mist hung over the moor. Stratton and Oggi strolled in silence with Titan a couple of paces in front. It was becoming ritual for the three of them to venture out before breakfast. It was the only time they felt comfortable exposed on the sweeping spaces. They hadn’t seen a soul at this hour in their three months of exile. It was their one chance each day to escape the claustrophobic confines of the coniferous wood.
Oggi blew his hands against the cold. “If there’s one thing I will miss from this experience, it’s my morning walk,” he said.
“Well, I’m glad there’s at least something you
enjoy,” said Stratton. “I’d hate to think you’d given up your nice cosy cell for nothing.”
Oggi ignored the comment. “What day is it today?” he asked. “I’ve got completely lost.”
“So have I,” said Stratton. “But I’m pretty sure it’s Monday.”
“Any idea of the date?”
“Mid-March I guess. I haven’t been counting. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.”
“I guess not,” agreed Oggi. “It’s just that my birthday’s coming up at the end of the month.”
Stratton did a quick calculation in his head. “It’s the sixteenth today.”
“Two weeks today then. I’ll be forty. Life will allegedly begin.”
Stratton chuckled. “Let’s hope so,” he said.
In front of them Titan stopped, pricked his ears, and sniffed the air. He growled, turned round, and headed back in the direction of the woods. Stratton looked at Oggi and shrugged. They followed the big cat’s lead.
The mist was beginning to lift and soon the trees were in view. Titan trotted along with purpose, occasionally turning to make sure the other two were keeping up.
“What the hell’s got into him?” wheezed Oggi.
“No idea,” said Stratton. “But it’ll be interesting to find out. Come on, keep up old man.”
Oggi produced a finger and made a face behind his back.
As they approached they saw figures milling about in their little clearing. Someone was taking an interest in the camp. Titan wove stealthily between the trees, and Stratton and Oggi did their best to stay low and hidden.
About thirty feet from the camp they crouched behind a bramble and peered over the top. Although the mist was dispersing, visibility was still hazy and they could only make out shapes, not faces.
“What shall we do?” said Oggi.
“Wait, I suppose,” said Stratton. “Whoever it is might head off.”
There came a shout from the camp. “Oggi! Stratton! Are you there!?”
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