by Chris Thomas
She stopped briefly to buy some food and a bottle of water, then ran, as quickly as her body allowed, as far away as she could.
And now she found herself in this caravan, finally able to rest. Soon she would have to keep moving, but for the time being she would call this small tin can home.
13
The phone sat in the central console of the BMW vibrated and then rang. Despite travelling at more than sixty miles per hour along the winding country road, Saeed picked it up in his left hand and held it across his face to his right ear. He recognised the number.
‘What the fuck do you want? I thought we finished our business,’ he said, steering one-handed around an old couple on bicycles.
‘She’s … gone …’ came the exhausted response.
‘Who’s gone?’
‘Your piece of skirt. Thanks to you, she escaped.’
‘You useless fucking prick!’ he shouted, holding the phone in front of his face, the speed of the car increasing in line with his anger. ‘Then you need to find her.’
‘No chance,’ replied Aleksander. ‘She left days ago.’
‘Days ago? Why didn’t you tell me this?’
‘I wanted it to be a nice surprise for you. We are lucky to be alive. Also luckily, no-one heard the shots and called the police.’
‘Shots? You idiot!’
‘Fuck you. If you hadn’t left us how you did, this wouldn’t have happened. Have a nice life, Saeed. I hope the girl doesn’t cause you too much bother. Goodbye.’
The line clicked and went dead. Saeed squeezed the phone in his hand and smacked it repeatedly against the steering wheel. As his attention switched back to the road, he slammed his foot down on the brake pedal; a junction was fast approaching. As the car skidded to a halt, he lay back against the headrest, his heart pounding as he tried to control his breathing. Aleksander would never grass him in to the police. Even if he did, Saeed already had numerous alibis, people who would say anything for him. Plus, he had already ditched the drugs. But this was a massive annoyance; he couldn’t risk being seen returning to the house in case the police did end up being involved and the girl was out on the loose. Not that she could do anything to threaten him either. She wouldn’t have the guts to go to the police and chances were, with her past, they wouldn’t believe a word she said even if she did.
He pulled out of the junction, driving more calmly now. No point giving the police any reason to pull him over.
IN THE LOUNGE, Mo and Shan were sat on the floor, watching Tom and Jerry videos on the television. Their mother was lying down on the sofa, filling in Sudoku puzzles on a small tablet. As soon as she heard the car door slam, she sat bolt upright, the nervousness making her stomach tighten. It seemed to take forever for him to walk up the path, but a few long seconds later she heard the key in the front door. The kids stayed staring at the cartoons; it was a relief to her that they hadn’t yet developed the same nervous reaction to his returns.
As the front door closed, Saeed placed the keys back on the hallway table and made his way into the lounge.
‘Hello, darling,’ Amanda said, hopefully, as she straightened some scatter cushions on the sofa. ‘Did you have a nice day?’
Saeed said nothing. He walked past his sons as if they weren’t there, stopping only momentarily to stoop down and grab the television remote from Mo’s chubby little hands. Dropping like a boulder into the sofa, he switched over to a hip-hop music channel.
Amanda joined him on the sofa, perching as close to the edge as she could without sliding onto the floor. Tenderly, tentatively, she placed a hand on his knee.
‘Is everything OK? Did you have a nice day?’
Before she could react, he swiftly grabbed her wrist and lifted her hand from his leg, twisting it as he did so. The speed scared her and she gasped loudly.
‘Ta and Jelly,’ shouted Shan. ‘Ta and Jelly.’
‘Quiet, Shan. It’s OK, Daddy’s had a busy day. It’s time for him to watch his programmes.’
‘Ta and Jelly! Ta and Jelly!’
‘Shan, shush, please,’ she begged.
Saeed stared at her. ‘I heard you the first time,’ he said, menacingly, and threw her arm back in her face.
As she sat, hunched over, rubbing her wrist, Shan began to cry. Saeed raised his eyebrows, which was enough for Amanda to leap from the sofa and pick Shan up to comfort him. As Saeed casually flicked through various other channels, Mo got up from the floor and walked over to his dad.
‘Daddy, Daddy, guess what I did after school today?’ said Mo, with an innocent optimism, slapping his dad on the leg. Amanda’s heart started to beat harder as she struggled to calm Shan.
Saeed slowly placed the controller on the arm of the chair and then placed both hands on his knees.
‘Daddy, guess what I did?’ he repeated.
‘I don’t think Daddy wants to hear about that, sweetie.’
‘Guess what I did?’
Saeed just stared. A brief moment of tense silence as Mo stared back at his dad with a huge grin on his face.
Saeed lunged forward, pinning Mo’s arms to his sides with his hands.
‘No!’ whispered Amanda as she took a deep intake of breath, the word barely coming out.
Saeed hoisted Mo up into the air and threw him down onto the sofa.
‘What did you do, you little monkey? Eh? What did you do?’
Mo giggled uncontrollably, arms flailing, as Saeed lifted his t-shirt up and blew raspberries on his tummy. Amanda realised she had been holding her breath and let out a long sigh of relief, at least for the moment.
‘Ha ha ha, stop it, Daddy! Stop it!’
‘What did you do then? Come on, tell me.’
‘I can’t,’ shouted Mo, in between laughter. ‘You’re tickling me!’
‘I’m not!’ replied Saeed, tickling him harder. ‘Let’s hear it then!’
‘Mo, remember what we said,’ interjected Amanda, with a forced laughter. ‘Just tell Daddy about the colouring book.’
‘Said about what?’ said Saeed, blowing another raspberry.
‘Grandad...’ said Mo, struggling to speak.
‘Mo, that’s enough.’
‘Grandad what?’ said Saeed. He continued tickling, but slower now, the smile dropping from his face.
‘Mo, no.’
‘Grandad came round with a colouring book,’ answered Mo, now able to speak. ‘I coloured in a fat man and Grandad said it looked like you.’
Silence. Amanda held Shan closer, tighter into her body, with a hand wrapped around the back of his head.
‘Did he?’ said Saeed, finally, after a few tense moments.
Mo’s grin never left his face during the pause, but Saeed’s had vanished completely. With his head still, he turned his gaze to Amanda and slowly raised his eyebrows in silent query.
‘Well, isn’t he a silly grandad then?’ he said, the statement being aimed more at Amanda than Mo. ‘Go to your room, boy, I need to talk to your mother.’
‘But I want to watch—’
‘GO!’
Mo jolted, a look of terror suddenly washing over his face, quickly followed by tears. He rolled off the sofa and Amanda came to him, taking his hand and helping him up. She bent down to share her hug with him, to reassure him.
‘Take your brother as well,’ Saeed murmured.
‘No,’ replied Amanda, holding both boys close to her.
‘Take your brother,’ he started, softly, building to a crescendo, before sending the remote controller crashing against the far wall, ‘and go to your room! NOW!’
‘It’s OK,’ whispered Amanda, smothering both boys with kisses as though she may never see them again. ‘Take Shan and climb into bed. Sing the nursery rhymes you learnt at school, he likes them.’
Mo took his little brother by the hand, the two of them crying, and led him out of the room.
‘Sae, I didn’t know he was—’ she pleaded with him, but was cut off by the crash of a door slamming sh
ut. ‘…Coming.’
‘Really? I’ve told you before about him coming here,’ he replied.
She took steps backwards as he walked towards her, until eventually the bookcase stopped her moving any farther.
She turned her face away from his. ‘I didn’t realise he was coming. He was waiting on the doorstep when we got home, I swear.’
He squeezed her chin with his thumb and index finger, turning her face back towards his.
‘But you let him in.’
‘Of course, I couldn’t tell him to go away. He’s my dad.’
‘Every time he comes here, he tries to poison your mind against me.’
‘It wasn’t like that, he just wanted to see—’
‘Don’t lie to me!’ he shouted, slapping her around the cheek.
‘I’m not,’ she said, trying not to burst into tears.
‘And now he’s trying to turn the boys against me as well.’
‘He’s not. It was just a joke.’
‘Oh, a joke was it? Well let’s see how funny he finds this, shall we?’
UPSTAIRS, Mo and Shan sat up in bed, the duvet resting like a tent on their heads, illuminated by the small wind-up torch. Mo sang to his brother.
‘Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white …’
He paused as the sound of screaming pierced through the floor below.
‘… as snow.’
A crash from downstairs made him grip his brother’s hand tighter.
‘And everywhere that Mary went …’
The floor shook again.
‘… that lamb was sure to go. It followed her to school one day ...’
The muffled shouts of their daddy now resonating up through the house.
‘… which was against the rule. It made the children laugh …’
A smash of something glass caused the walls to vibrate. The boys stared into each other’s eyes as tears streamed down their faces.
‘… laugh and play. To see a lamb at school.’
Finally, there was silence. The front door slammed again.
14
The door to the stark, white-washed holding room swung open, and a burst of daylight flooded in. Mark Rankin sat upright in a large leather recliner in the corner, the only piece of furniture the room contained. Even with the sack over his head he could tell the room had become lighter.
‘Good afternoon, Mark,’ said Jarvis, as he entered the room, flanked by two burly goons. ‘We hope you’ve enjoyed your stay at our little hotel, but check-out is at three and we really need to start servicing your room.’
The goons grabbed him by the arms and lifted him to his feet. His body squirmed like a worm in a bird’s beak. It was pointless, since the straitjacket was tied so tightly he would be more likely to slip a disc than to escape. But he tried anyway.
‘Fuck you! Where are you taking me? What day is it?’ he shouted through the sack.
Jarvis walked alongside the men as they dragged Mark out of the room and into the courtyard.
‘We’re taking you out, you’ve got a big date. Don’t worry about getting ready for it though, what you’re wearing is fine. And what day is it? Well, if I was going to be melodramatic, I would say something like ‘It’s your judgement day’, but as I’m not I will simply say Friday. Not that it really matters.’
Mark heard the van doors open before he was bundled onto a mattress in the back. The engine was already running, and as he lay down inside, he felt a foot in his back, pressing him down onto his front. Very quickly, he gave up struggling. He had no idea how many days he had been there, but he was tired and hungry, and simply didn’t have the energy to fight any more.
‘Hello again, Mark,’ said the goon. ‘We really should stop meeting like this. I hope you’re sitting comfortably with your seatbelt on and the chair in the upright position. Well, sort of.’
Jarvis climbed into the passenger seat. ‘Just drop me off around the other side, will you?’
‘I realise you techie types hate any sort of exercise,’ said Stan, as he slowly pulled away, ‘but surely even you can manage a short walk across the courtyard.’
‘I need to preserve my energy.’
‘I can imagine,’ replied Stan, sarcastically. ‘Tapping away on your ZX Spectrum must burn hundreds of calories.’
‘It’s a Commodore Sixty-four, actually. Stop me if this is getting too technical for you. But let’s face it, if you get something wrong it doesn’t really matter. If I get it wrong, this whole game comes to an end.’
‘Who’d have thought we would end up in a world where the nerds hold all the power,’ replied Stan, as he brought the van to a halt around the west side of the house.
‘I know, it’s wonderful isn’t it?’ said Jarvis, excitedly. ‘See you at the gig.’
The two men clasped hands and nodded to each other. Jarvis trotted over to the other holding room and waved for the door to be opened. As he walked into the room, the stench hit him like a smack around the face.
‘Jesus Christ, what is wrong with this woman?’ he asked, pulling his t-shirt up over his nose.
‘She went a bit berserk, demanding pizza and curry. In the end we got her some just to shut her up. It did the trick, but then the flatulence started. Plus, she already stinks from the amount she sweats,’ replied one of the goons who’d been guarding her, pointing at the empty takeaway containers that littered the floor.
In the corner of the room, Karen Parker sat sobbing into the sack that covered her head.
‘Well, I think it’s time to put her out of her misery,’ said Jarvis, as he walked over to her. ‘Hello, Karen, it’s time to go.’
‘I keep telling you, I’m not Karen,’ she said, unconvincingly, through the sack.
‘Christ, where do we find these people?’ Jarvis said to himself. ‘It’s time to leave, Karen. We’ve got a big date lined up for you.’
‘Is there food there? I’m hungry,’ she replied.
‘Er, yes,’ answered Jarvis, shaking his head as the goons sniggered into their hands. ‘As much food as you can stuff down your fat, sorry, waste-of-space neck. If you would just like to stand up and come with us, we’ll do the rest.’
‘Are you taking me home?’ she asked, as the goons helped her to her feet.
‘Sort of, yes. We just need to ask you some more questions and then it will all be over.’
She padded to the van, hands cuffed in front of her, the sack still covering her head. Obligingly, she stepped up into the back of van, with a little helping shove from one of the goons.
‘I wish the other one was this easy,’ Jarvis whispered to himself, going around to the front of the van.
Eric wound the window down. ‘Where to with this one, guvnor?’
‘The warehouse on Dean Street.’
‘Ooo no, I don’t go south of the river, not at this time of the day.’
‘Go on, I’ll bung you an extra twenty.’
‘Done. See you later.’
Eric wound the window up and drove off. As Jarvis watched them go, he heard the crunching of footsteps behind him. Alistair and Gilbert walked across the gravel driveway towards him.
‘Everything ready?’ asked Alistair.
‘Certainly is,’ replied Jarvis. ‘Set is all ready to go. Our volunteers are fed and watered. Eric and Stan have taken care of the security arrangements. I just need to send the log-on details out to the subscribers, but I can’t do that until the encryption program has run its course. It’ll be completed once we get to the warehouse.’
‘Good. I think this one is going to be big. I’m looking forward to it,’ replied Alistair.
Gilbert reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie. ‘Bring the car around, please.’
The large black Mercedes saloon car drove up the ramp from the underground car park and pulled up in front of the men.
Alistair opened the rear door and put his arms around the two men.
‘Gentlemen, it’s time to go meet the Host.’
15
‘Look, I know we’re late, Mister Johnson, but there’s not a lot I can do about it,’ said a very bored Joe, holding the phone to his ear. The words were coming out but whether or not in the right order, he had no idea. He’d been on the receiving end of this phone call bollocking for over eight minutes now and as he stared at the computer screen, switching brightly colour sweets into lines of three, a chime sounded on his phone.
He opened his email app whilst mumbling randomly placed responses to his caller.
‘Uh-huh’, ‘Yep’, ‘Can I look into it and get back to you?’, ‘No, of course we value your account.’
It was the email he had been waiting for.
From: CoinFX
To: Joe
Subject: New Account Registration
Dear Joe,
We are pleased to confirm that your recent application to open a wallet with CoinFX has been approved. The account set-up has been completed and you will be able to access your wallet using the log-in details that will be sent on separate emails.
Thank you for choosing CoinFX for your online currency trading.
Yours sincerely,
New Account Team
‘Yes! About fucking time … No, no, no sorry, Mister Johnson, I didn’t mean you – we, er, just had a delivery turn up to the office. Yes, I realise it would be nice if it was your order. OK, look, leave it with me a little longer. I promise I will get to the bottom of it and let you know its progress. Alright, bye.’
He hung up without even waiting for Mr Johnson to sign off. Joe had worked for his family’s metal supply business for the last fifteen years. He had seen it grow from a small office in his parents’ house into a large scale outfit operating out of a twenty thousand square foot warehouse situated in a leafy countryside area just out of town. It paid him a good salary but he’d become bored with the seemingly endless paperwork, export regulations and, worst of all, the staff.
Finally, he had a diversion. Something raw and brutal that made him feel alive. The sense of the unknown was something he hadn’t felt for a long time.