Enter The Dark

by Chris Thomas

  ‘That last transaction bounced. Whoever this JoltingJoe is, he’s done us,’ replied Jarvis, continuing to tap away on his laptop keyboard. ‘We’re checking all incoming filters for any hint as to who and where this guy might be. He seems like an amateur, I’m sure he’ll leave some sort of trace.’

  ‘Find him. We need to get this moved out,’ the Host replied, returning to the camera. ‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, sorry about that, it seems that our last viewer decided he wanted something for nothing. For all you genuine Brotherhood members out there, thank you for watching. Once again, the world is rid of another couple of monsters this country did not see fit to punish suitably. I think we can all be assured that their debt to society has now been settled with interest. And hopefully the spirit of Charlie will be able to rest in peace a little easier. Remember to keep an eye on the message boards for the next instalment of the Red Room. Thanks for watching and goodnight!’

  He walked away, but then paused and turned back to the camera, ‘Oh and, JoltingJoe, whoever you are, if you’re still watching … We are coming for you and we will find you.’ And with that, the cameras cut off and the screen went black.

  The goons continued with the clean-up operation, the chairs were dismantled, and the plastic covering peeled from the floor. They had already moved the bodies into the back of one of the vans and now were removing the remaining traces from the warehouse.

  The Host removed his mask and threw it into one of the sacks with the rest of the rubbish, shouting over his shoulder as he stormed out of the warehouse.

  ‘Jarvis? Found him yet?’

  ‘Nearly, I’m just running a tracking program,’ replied Jarvis, collecting his laptop and scurrying after the Host. ‘We managed to download nearly all the sub-links before we cut transmission and then it’ll just be a case of working through them until we find the open window.’

  ‘OK, do it in the car. We’ve got to go, now. The boys are getting twitchy.’

  ‘Fine. I’m going. Don’t worry, we’ll find him.’

  JOE’S SENSE of power and ego had been short-lived. He had closed the website window down and exited the browser altogether. But he had a feeling it was a futile gesture, little more than burying his head in the sand. He paced up and down the garage, throwing pool balls randomly around the table, trying to make sense of what had just happened. How could the transaction have failed, there was more than enough credit to cover it. He wished that he could go back in time an hour and never become involved in this, just watch instead. Or that he’d wake up and realise he was still pissed, lying on Billy’s sofa.

  At that moment, he heard the jangle of keys in the side door, closely followed by a giggling, stumbling Ellie.

  ‘Shit,’ he whispered, as she propped herself against the wall, trying to remove a knee-high leather boot and failing miserably.

  She finished removing the boot whilst lying on the floor, then crawled into the garage on her hands and knees.

  ‘Hello, big boy. What are you doing in here? Playing with your balls?’ she slurred, giggling at her own wit.

  ‘Hilarious,’ he replied, struggling to muster even a half smile. ‘You look a tad pissed. Good night, was it?’

  ‘Brilliant. Helen’s got a new froybend and—’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A froybend, you know a … Ha ha, I mean boyfriend. She’s got a new boyfriend and it turns out he’s got two kids and she didn’t know until he turned up at her house covered in Peppa Pig stickers. And then she went ape-shit at him but then said she’d forgive him because he’s got a massive cock.’

  ‘Sounds delightful. Anyway, probably best if you went to bed isn’t it?’

  ‘What? Don’t be so boring! Come on, let’s dance,’ she shouted, flinging her arms around his neck.

  ‘Look, I’m really not in the mood at the moment.’

  ‘Where’s Billy? I thought he’d still be here.’ she said, looking around the room, before grabbing both of Joe’s cheeks in the palms of her hands and wobbling them up and down. ‘Did you two have a little tiff?’

  ‘Stop being stupid. No, he left because he’s got an early morning start with football. Anyway, look, I’m going to shut down the computer and come to bed. Why don’t you go up?’ Joe replied.

  ‘Jeez, you are so uptight. Come on, relax,’ she said, grabbing his hand and sitting him back down in the chair.

  She hitched her skirt up and straddled him on the chair, while he tried his best to look interested. He placed his hands on her backside and began kissing her as she started to grind into his crotch. At that moment, a program window opened up on the screen behind her. Joe glanced over her shoulder. His heart, which still hadn’t calmed down from before and was now in overdrive as his girlfriend tried her best to arouse him, all of a sudden felt like it was about to explode out of his chest. There, on the screen, was the clown-masked face of the Host. Joe let go of Ellie, who was still making all the moves, and stared as the Host gestured to the bottom corner of the window. In it, a small box appeared, showing Ellie’s back and his face.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Ellie, seeing his face frozen. She turned around on his lap and looked at the computer, snuggling into him and trying hard not to fall asleep. ‘Oh, hello Mister Clown Face!’

  ‘Ellie, don’t,’ said Joe, though what good it would do he didn’t know.

  ‘Hello, Joe,’ said the Host.

  ‘Billy, is that you, you fucking pervert? Get a good eyeful of my arse did you? Better than you’ll ever get, you sad little tosser.’

  ‘No, this isn’t Billy, is it, Joe? Why don’t you inform this delightful young lady who we are?’

  ‘What do you want? Look, I know I messed up the transfer, but I’ll pay it, I swear. Just give me a little more time to sort it, the banks will be closed now for the weekend.’

  ‘Oh, Joe, this isn’t about the money. You really think that’s why we do this? Think about it, what did you feel as you watched? Revulsion? Fear? Justice? Exactly, we do this because our viewers want justice. In the olden days, dispensing justice was a very unpleasant business. These days it’s gone soft, but people don’t like that. And our Brotherhood has decided to right that wrong. But the only way it can work is with the complete integrity of everyone taking part. And tonight, you failed. We will be coming to get you, to reclaim more than just money. You belong to us now.’

  ‘What? Please, I didn’t realise what was going on. I just thought it was …’ begged Joe.

  ‘Thought it was what, Joe? Fake? A joke? It’s real, Joe, what you saw was real. You watched it for long enough to understand.’

  ‘I didn’t know what it was,’ he protested, in the hope that Ellie would believe him.

  ‘Don’t bother, Joe. Luckily for you I think your better half is asleep.’

  Joe craned his neck back to check that she was. ‘How did you find me though?’ he replied, turning back to the screen, thankful Ellie couldn’t hear.

  ‘Look at the top of the monitor, what do you see?’

  The minute he said it, Joe realised what he had done. Or rather hadn’t done.

  ‘Shit,’ he said to himself. Billy had even warned him specifically about covering up the webcam, and it now became clear why. He stood up with Ellie in his arms and walked her over to the sofa, where he lay her down.

  ‘Look, so you found my computer, big deal. You’ve got no idea who I am or where I live. The minute I close this window, I’ll just disconnect from the internet, uninstall the webcam driver, and you won’t be able to find me again,’ he said, surprising himself with the level of guts and defiance he had managed to muster, not that he really believed it for one minute.

  ‘I really wouldn’t do that if I were you, Joe,’ said the Host. ‘If you help us and do what we say, then you will be fine. But you should understand the level of influence and reach, as well as resources, that our group has. Pretending we don’t exist is not an option. We will—’

  Before he could finish the sentence, Joe
pulled the network cable from the router and closed down the window. He loaded up the applications and began uninstalling the webcam program before plugging in a hard drive and starting a back-up. Sitting with his head in his hands, he turned to look at Ellie, fast asleep on the sofa. What had he done? For now, she was probably still unaware and hopefully wouldn’t remember in the morning.

  He needed time to think. There was no way these people could track him. They couldn’t, could they? Just from a webcam chat? But they had found him. Or at least they had tracked him to a computer; but still, that was all they had. All he had to do was stay offline for a while and they would probably lose interest. He walked over to Ellie, placed a pillow under her head, and lay a blanket over the top of her. As he walked out of the garage and turned the lights off, a message alert sounded on his phone. Pulling it from his pocket, he opened the text. As he read it, he dropped back against the wall and slumped into a heap on the floor.

  ‘No!’ he whispered, banging the back of his head against the wall as he read the two-word text again.

  Foolish Boy

  20

  Daisy walked up the garden path, holding her hands out to the side allowing the soft white heads of the tall pampas grass to glide through her fingers. She looked up at the decrepit terraced house, the dull grey frontage blending in with the stormy clouds that floated overhead. With its faded paintwork, chipped rendering, and cracked windows held together with brown packing tape, it was not the most inviting of places. An empty beer bottle rolled around the front step and stopped against the red wooden door, knocking just enough to push it ajar a couple of inches.

  Pushing the door open, she walked in slowly. The woodchip paper on the walls in the hallway had been painted magnolia and was now pebble-dashed with patches of black mould. Down the end of the hallway, a television blared out a hardcore porn movie, and she heard voices. A man came out of a room, lighting a cigarette, and she darted onto the first couple of steps of the stairs, ducking down behind the banister while he turned into the kitchen. She stood up and slowly crept up the stairs. As she arrived at the landing, she peered around the banister at the row of chairs lined up against the wall, two empty and one with a man sat reading the paper. He seemed completely oblivious to her presence, even as she stood up at the end of the landing.

  After a minute or so, the door at the end opened and a man left, hastily putting his jacket back on and wiping the lipstick smear from his face. Daisy stood back against the wall as he rushed past, as if she wasn’t there, and she caught the sweet overpowering scent of cheap perfume lingering on his clothes. The door opened again and a chubby, nightie-clad woman, probably in her early 30s but easily looking forty, beckoned the remaining man into the bedroom.

  ‘Mum!’ shouted Daisy, but the door was slammed shut with the click of a lock fastening.

  She ran to the end of the landing and began hammering on the door, but there was no response from inside. Hearing the front door go, she turned around and started back down the stairs. Another man passed her on the stairs. He had a close-shaven head and wore large gold earrings, a heavy chunky gold necklace, and at least three huge sovereign rings on his fingers. As they passed each other, he stubbed a cigarette out on the wall and reach around to grab Daisy’s backside. The sound of his arrogant laughter hung in the air as she hurried past and leapt around the bottom of the stairs.

  At the end of the hallway, she tiptoed through the open door. Two men in shiny shell suits sat on a sofa. One tapped cigarette ash into an empty can of cider that rested on his bulbous gut whilst sipping from another. They discussed the various attributes and acting abilities of the actress in the adult movie on the television, stopping intermittently to take a drag from the cheap cigarettes or a swig from the super-strength cider.

  In the corner of the room, a small girl sat on the floor. She looked no more than eight or nine years old and wore a stained white vest top and shorts. Her long tousled hair hung in dreadlock-like clumps and she had bruises on her arms and legs. Sitting cross-legged against the wall, she held a Barbie doll dressed as a ballerina. It had one leg missing and the girl lovingly brushed its long wiry hair with a small plastic brush. Minutes passed, and Daisy just stared at the girl, watching her repeat the same motion over and over again.

  ‘Hey!’ Daisy said, in a harsh whisper. The girl didn’t respond, the noise from the television drowning Daisy out. ‘Hey, sweetheart,’ she tried again.

  This time, the little girl turned her head to the doorway, a large clump of hair hanging in front of her face. Daisy knelt down to her level.

  ‘Hi, what’s your name?’ she asked.

  The little girl held up the doll. The face was a hideous mess of wavy plastic and black scorch marks, the result of numerous cigarettes extinguished on it. The girl stared a moment before answering,

  ‘My name is Daisy.’

  Daisy lost balance and put her arm down to stop herself toppling over. The little girl let out a scream, and Daisy put a finger to her lips in an effort to make the girl quieten down. But it was too late, and already one of the men had left the sofa. Walking over to the little girl, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. Daisy reached out to try and stop the man as he brought his hand up, but despite a desperate leap forward with her arms outstretched, couldn’t stop the man bringing a forceful slap down across the little girl’s face. Daisy lay on the floor, raising her head to look at the girl as the man dropped back down into the sofa and carried on smoking. The little girl sat with her head in her hands, sobbing.

  Daisy reached out a hand to place it on the girl’s leg.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart, come with me. Let me get you out of here.’ As she made contact the girl grabbed her wrist and turned her head. She wiped the hair away from her face, revealing two eyes sewn shut with surgical stitches amongst a mess of bruises, scratches, and scabs.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ She spoke in a high-pitched shriek that made Daisy recoil in horror. ‘They mustn’t let me see. Not allowed to see!’ Daisy backed away, thrashing to try and break free. But the small girl kept coming. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ she repeated. ‘They mustn’t let me see. Not allowed to see! Who are you? What do you want?’

  Daisy awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright and rubbing her eyes. As her eyes became accustomed to the inside of the caravan, she began to make out the form of an elderly gentleman, dressed in a green quilted body warmer, green wellington boots, and a brown tweed suit.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked, pointing a long walking stick at Daisy. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Sorry … I must have … fallen asleep,’ she replied, groggily.

  ‘Well, that’s all bloody well and good that is, but you’ve broken my bloody lock, you little rascal. Go on, get out of it before I bloody well call the police.’

  Daisy gathered her meagre belongings and ran out of the caravan. She stopped at the step and pulled a note from the wedge she kept hidden in her underwear.

  ‘That’s for your sodding lock. Don’t worry, I won’t be coming back here, the service was shit, there was no room service, and no breakfast.’

  ‘Why, you bloody little monkey, come here and I’ll give you a bloody piece of my mind!’

  But Daisy had already started running, further into the forest. After a week of sleeping in the caravan eating nothing but takeaway, she stank, but it had been the nicest week of her life for as long as she could remember. The pain in her body had all but disappeared, the drugs and alcohol in her system cleaned out. The cold turkey effects were diminishing, but she still needed to stay as far away from the town as she could.

  After a mile or so, she stopped for a rest on a fallen log. The dream started to replay itself in her mind. Memories of her childhood came flooding back, how she used to play with dolls as a coping strategy to block out the events around her. She had always wanted a real dad, not one man after another shacking up with her mum, treating her like she was nothing but a nuisance. Her real
dad had – well, she didn’t know. She didn’t know who he was or why he wasn’t around. She assumed he was one of her mum’s many tricks but figured he must be out there somewhere. One day, maybe she would try and find him, but that would first mean having to contact her mother, something which she had absolutely no intention of doing.

  She stood up and starting walking. This part of the woods was unfamiliar to her, but she could hear the faint hum of lorries and industry in the distance ahead. As she approached, she found a gap in the chain link fence large enough to fit through, but there was far too much activity going on through there at the moment. She would wait until tonight and sneak in to have a look around. For now, she would go and sample the delights of the burger van parked just the other side of the fence and then head off to try and spend some of Aleksander’s hard-stolen money on a local bed and breakfast.

  21

  The banqueting hall in Clifton Manor was enormous. Its high ceilings, art deco architecture, gold gilded railings, and thirty place dining table had led it to be photographed for numerous high society magazines, as well as to be used as a set in many television programmes. What was usually left out of these photographs, however, were the dartboard and vintage retro jukebox that sat in the far corner, by one of the huge bay windows.

  Eric and Stan were playing darts while Jarvis sat at the end of the banqueting table with his laptop. The doors to the hall swung open and in walked Gilbert and Alistair.

  ‘Gentlemen, if I could drag you away from your no doubt important game, we’ve got some urgent matters to discuss,’ said Alistair, motioning for Jarvis to vacate his seat at the head of the table.

  ‘We’ll carry this on afterwards,’ said Stan. ‘Please try and remember the score.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be too difficult,’ replied Eric. ‘We both need double one. And have done for the last six minutes.’

  The two men sat down at the table as Gilbert poured a round of coffee, placing a pristine white bone china cup and saucer in front of each man.