‘It makes sense,’ said George.
‘Okay, then. But be careful. Take no chances; shoot anything that moves and isn’t one of us,’ said Indigo.
There were five people and six rifles; George saw to it that everyone had a weapon, then he slung the sixth one over his shoulder.
They slipped out of the barn and made their way to the lodge. ‘Give us a count of ten to get to the back door, then go in,’ said Indigo. He and George made their way round the side of the house, bodies close to the wall, heads under the level of the windows. Once they got to the back, Indigo tried the door and it opened.
The man at the table looked up, surprised anyone was back so soon. His eyes widened as he saw Indigo and George coming into the house. He lunged for a knife from the block on the kitchen worktop.
Meanwhile, JacktheRiffer, Mayfly and Valerie opened the front door and let themselves in. They closed it and locked it behind them. The porch was full of helmets, coats and boots. After giving it a cursory glance, they passed from there into the main house. They stood in a hallway. A staircase led to the upper floor, and doors stood open showing a reception room with a bar, and a sitting room; neither showed any signs of life. The hallway led them past the staircase and to the back of the house. They were about to go and investigate when the sound of gunfire made them freeze.
‘You stay here,’ JacktheRiffer said to Valerie, ‘watch the staircase in case anyone comes down.’
‘If they do, I’ll shoot them,’ she said, and JacktheRiffer nodded grimly.
‘Come on,’ he said to Mayfly, and they moved towards the gunfire. When they reached the kitchen, they saw Basra on the floor, clutching his arm, and Indigo and George standing over him.
‘All right?’ said JacktheRiffer.
Indigo nodded, and he and George hauled Basra off the floor and into a chair. ‘We’ll see what he can tell us,’ said Indigo. ‘Can you check the rest of the house?’
‘Sure,’ said Mayfly. ‘There’s just the upstairs left to do. Valerie’s keeping an eye on the staircase.’
***
‘All clear,’ said Mayfly, as she, JacktheRiffer and Valerie walked into the kitchen a couple of minutes later.
‘You got anything out of him yet?’ asked JacktheRiffer, looking at Basra.
‘Not much,’ admitted Indigo. ‘Just that they’re called what they’re called because of where they made their first kill. He’s “Basra”. He reckons he’s just the cook.’
‘There’s nobody involved with this who has clean hands,’ said George. ‘He’s as guilty as the others, they’re all murdering people and profiting from it.’
‘It’s a public service,’ spat Basra. ‘We take scum off the streets.’
‘People on the streets aren’t scum, they’re broke, or ill, or overwhelmed,’ said George. ‘They need helping, not hurting.’
‘Nobody missed them. What do they matter?’
‘Everyone matters, you parasite,’ said Indigo.
‘You don’t even value your own life,’ said Basra.
‘I have always valued my life,’ said Indigo. ‘It’s just that there have been times when I couldn’t bear the weight of it.’
‘You came here to die. Want me to do it for you? I’ll happily wring your worthless neck.’
‘That’s enough of that shite,’ said George. He looked at Indigo. ‘Come on, let’s put him in the pen with the rest.’
***
Indigo and George each took one of the helmets from the porch, put it on and turned on the light. They marched Basra ahead of them at gunpoint.
‘What the fuck?’ said George as they entered the barn. The pen door stood open. Three men lay tied up on the floor and another lay dead, but two were missing. George pushed Basra into the metal structure and locked the door again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Indigo saw a movement in the shadows. He turned in that direction and in the light from the helmet lamp he saw that Glasgow and Slayer were trying to open a pair of double doors at the opposite end of the barn.
Once he knew they’d been seen, Slayer turned on his own helmet lamp. As Slayer pushed the doors open, Glasgow ran to the quad bike and jumped on, then swore, and jumped off again just as quickly. He darted over to a cork board on the wall and snatched a set of keys from a peg.
Indigo ran towards the back of the barn, George close behind him.
‘Put the keys down,’ Indigo said. ‘You’re not leaving.’
‘You, back here, now!’ George shouted at Slayer, who was still standing by the open doors.
Glasgow looked at Indigo with disdain. ‘Who’s going to stop me?’ he said.
‘I am.’ Indigo waved the gun at him. ‘Try it and I shoot.’ He grinned, his expression icy. ‘Go on, give me a reason.’
Slayer looked at George and laughed. ‘Do you even know how to use that?’ he asked. ‘You’re prey, you sad sack, you’re not a killer, no more than that other fool. What the fuck are you playing at?’
‘You don’t get to decide who’s prey, you bastard. I’m not prey,’ said George.
‘Fuck off, lad, stop wasting my time,’ said Glasgow, to Indigo. He started to move towards the vehicle again.
‘Put your hands up,’ said Indigo.
‘Fuck off,’ said Glasgow. He climbed onto the bike, put the key in the ignition and fired it up. As it started to move towards the door, Indigo shot him in the shoulder. Glasgow cried out in pain and the bike swerved, but he gritted his teeth, regained control and kept moving forwards. Indigo fired again, hitting him square in the back, and the bike crashed into the barn wall. Glasgow pitched forwards and fell awkwardly across the handlebars. Indigo grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him clear, then dropped him on the floor of the barn. The man was badly wounded, but still belligerent.
‘What are you going to do now?’ Glasgow said. ‘Finish me off? You haven’t got the balls. You might as well let me go.’
‘The only place you’re going is prison.’ Indigo turned the quad bike engine off and pocketed the keys.
‘Yeah? Well, if I am, so are you,’ Glasgow said. ‘You stoved Helmand and Sunderland’s heads in, they’re stone dead; so’s the hunter you shot.’
Indigo opened his mouth to reply, then looked round as he heard shots ring out, followed by a cry of pain. George strode outside, grabbed Slayer by the scruff of the neck and hauled him back into the barn. His right thigh was bleeding.
‘Tried to run off while we were distracted,’ George said.
Indigo nodded. ‘Good work.’
George closed the doors again.
Indigo went through Glasgow’s pockets and found the key he had for the pen. ‘Should have searched them,’ he said to George, ‘we were careless.’
‘It’s just business, you know,’ Glasgow said. ‘It’s nothing personal, just supply and demand. Anyway, you wanted to die, didn’t you?’
‘And that twat?’ Indigo walked over to Slayer and kicked him. ‘What about him? Was that just business, as well?’
‘Absolutely. The gentleman paid for a special weekend of hunting.’
Indigo swallowed his anger. ‘How did Reaperman fit into it all?’
‘Philip? He was a classic do-gooder, an easy touch.’
‘Did he know about your plans?’
‘No, he wouldn’t have stood for that. That was all me. I saw a business opportunity and I went for it.’ Glasgow managed to lift a hand long enough to rub his thumb and forefinger together. ‘Made a packet.’ The hand fell back to the floor; for all his bluster and bravado, the man looked finished.
‘Fat lot of good it’ll do you now.’
‘You’re not going to stop me getting away,’ said Glasgow.
‘I already have,’ said Indigo. ‘Look at you – you’re a fucking mess.’
‘And that cunt,’ said George, nodding at Slayer. ‘You wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in a hunt,’ he hissed at him. ‘Fucking coward.’
Slayer glared back at George.
‘Well
, you’ll get us help, then,’ said Glasgow. ‘I know your sort, always wanting to do the right thing.’
‘What do you do with the bodies?’ said Indigo.
‘What?’
‘The bodies. The people from the hunts and now the house. Where are they?’
Glasgow smiled slyly and tried to tap his nose. He groaned in pain as the gunshot wounds restricted his movement.
‘Where are they?’ Indigo repeated. He kicked Glasgow’s feet. ‘Tell me!’
‘There’s a pit …’
‘Where?’
‘Out in the grounds. You’ll never find it—’
‘Show me.’
‘I want help.’
‘I’ll get you help if you show me.’
‘How? I can’t move.’
Indigo pointed at Slayer. ‘Let’s put that in the pen,’ he said to George. The two men took an arm each and dragged him the length of the barn, unlocked the pen, dragged him inside, then locked up again.
Indigo walked back down the barn, grabbed Glasgow under the arms and hauled him onto the quad bike, the man grunting with pain the whole time, then got on behind him. He fired it up and they trundled out of the barn, with George trotting along behind them.
‘Right,’ Indigo said, ‘tell me where this pit is.’
Chapter 45
Indigo and George were grim-faced when they went back into the house.
‘What is it?’ said JacktheRiffer. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘We caught two of them trying to escape. I shot the organiser and George shot the killer from the house.’
‘They’re still alive, the organiser only just; they’re in the pen with the one who was in here. I think all the others are dead,’ said George.
‘I made the organiser show me something,’ said Indigo.
‘What?’ said Mayfly.
‘The body pit.’
‘The body …? Holy shit, what’s that?’ said JacktheRiffer.
‘They’ve been killing a lot of people. They had to do something with the bodies, so I asked him what and he showed me.’ Indigo rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘There’s a huge pit full of dead people. They dig it out with a machine, and keep on piling the bodies in and covering them with lime until they decide it’s full. Then they top it off with soil, plant it up and dig another pit. The one they’re using now is almost full, and it’s the third so far.’
‘How come no one’s spotted it?’ said Mayfly.
‘Well, it’s pretty isolated out here, but it’s covered over, disguised, just in case. But I know where it is, now.’
‘What are we going to do? Tell the police?’ said Valerie.
Indigo paused, then shook his head. ‘No. I say we clean up. We kill the ones who are still alive and we put all the bodies in the pit with the others, fill it in and then go.’
George nodded. His eyes were haunted.
‘Go where?’ said Mayfly.
‘Home.’
‘Kill them?’ said JacktheRiffer. ‘Kill them in cold blood? Why?’
‘Because I saw the pit,’ said Indigo. ‘I saw SpeedKing and Monkeyboy, Reaperman and Scaredycat. BlackWidow. All of them. They’re all in there, just thrown in.’
‘Caz?’ said JacktheRiffer.
Indigo nodded.
‘I want to see it for myself,’ said JacktheRiffer.
‘Mate, you don’t.’
‘I need to.’ JacktheRiffer stood up. ‘Come on, before I lose my nerve.’
***
Five minutes later, Indigo, Mayfly, Valerie, JacktheRiffer, and George stood looking into the body pit. Mayfly turned away and hid her face in Indigo’s shoulder, and he held her close as she sobbed.
‘That’s … that’s …’ JacktheRiffer ran out of words.
The scene was horrific, people tumbled in haphazardly and spattered in lime, a jumble of arms and legs, a face, eyes open, peering up, fingers grasping at a salvation that would never come.
‘Come on,’ said George, ‘we’ve seen enough.’ He put an arm round Valerie’s shoulders and led her away, back to the house. After a short while the others followed.
A little later, they all sat around the kitchen table, lost for words, until finally JacktheRiffer broke the silence.
‘I agree with Indigo. I vote we put all seven of those bastards in that pit, cover it over and then leave here for good. We never return. We never speak of it again.’
‘What about our friends?’ said Mayfly. ‘Don’t they deserve a decent burial?’
‘The only way they’ll get one is if we get the police involved,’ said George. ‘We could all end up in prison.’
‘It’s not just that,’ said JacktheRiffer. ‘Some of them have been mutilated. We know they suffered and died horribly. What do you think will be worse for their loved ones? Knowing they’ve disappeared, or knowing they were tortured, disfigured and murdered?’
‘My brother is in that pit,’ said Valerie, ‘and as horrible as it is, I think we should leave him there. I agree with JacktheRiffer. We throw the dead men in. We walk the live ones out there, line them up and shoot them, and throw them in, too. Then we cover it all up and leave it.’
‘Are we all agreed?’ said George.
One by one, they said they were.
‘Well, then. We just need to get on with it.’
***
The quad bike was back in the barn and now had the trailer attached. Indigo opened the pen and took stock of the seven men inside. Of the three hunters, only Slayer was still alive and he had been shot both in the arm and the leg.
Two of the organisers were dead, and Glasgow looked like he was soon about to join them. The only one still mobile was Basra, the one from the house. The wound in his arm had stopped bleeding.
Indigo held his gun on him. ‘You,’ he said, ‘help load the bodies into the trailer.’
Within a short time, the four dead men had been loaded up.
JacktheRiffer took a hunting knife from the belt of one of the men and put it in his inside jacket pocket.
‘Now put those two on top,’ Indigo said, nodding at Glasgow and Slayer.
‘You can’t—’ said Basra.
‘Do it!’ barked Indigo.
Basra and George hauled the two wounded men out of the pen and laid them on top of the bodies in the bed of the trailer.
‘This is inhuman,’ said Slayer.
‘Wait till you see what happens next,’ said Indigo.
‘Why? What are you going to do?’
‘Put you and your disgusting mates, both dead and alive, in the body pit.’
‘You’re fucking animals!’ Slayer shouted. ‘I need help. I need to get to a hospital.’
‘Not going to happen.’
Slayer managed to go a shade whiter than he already was. ‘You wouldn’t fucking dare!’ he croaked.
‘There’s a lot of things I wouldn’t have dared do before the weekend you put us all through,’ said Indigo, ‘but I’ll do them now. And killing you is top of the list, you fucking monster.’
‘Not a chance! You might think you can do it, but actually pulling the trigger on a kill shot takes guts, the sort of guts prey like you don’t have.’
‘You think?’ Indigo raised his rifle and shot Slayer in the shoulder. The noise in the confined space was deafening. ‘That’s three of us who’ve put bullets in you, now. You think any one of us won’t put in more to finish you off?’
Slayer groaned, then passed out.
They made a strange sight as they traversed the distance between the barn and the body pit. Indigo rode the quad bike, the trailer bouncing along behind, his companions arrayed around it, the pace sedate. Basra walked in front of George, who had his rifle trained on the man. No one spoke; every face was sombre.
When they got to the body pit, Slayer and Glasgow were lifted off and dumped on the heather, and the dead were unloaded from the trailer and thrown into the pit. Three people remained to be dealt with: Slayer, Glasgow and Basra.
‘W
hat’s … what’s happening?’ Glasgow’s voice was weak, but strong enough to get everyone’s attention.
‘Not dead yet, then,’ said Indigo. ‘That’s about to change.’
Basra saw his chance; he seized Valerie’s weapon. As he tried to wrestle it from her, the gun went off. A portion of her head evaporated into red mist and she fell to the ground. Indigo didn’t hesitate; he fired three short bursts at Basra, raking him with bullets from his left knee to his right shoulder. Both Valerie and Basra lay dead on the ground.
In the confusion, Slayer managed to get to his feet and he lurched awkwardly, favouring his shot leg, towards the bushes.
Indigo saw what was happening and caught up with him in just a few strides. He grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the others.
‘I picked this up in the barn,’ said JacktheRiffer, as he produced a hunting knife from inside his jacket. He stepped up to Slayer and showed him the blade. ‘I’m going to gut you with this, like you gutted Caz.’
‘No chance,’ said Slayer.
JacktheRiffer used the knife to rip the man open, drawing the blade across his middle, just above his navel. Slayer gasped and gripped at the wound, then fell to his knees, his arms full of offal. It steamed in the cold night air.
‘Jesus, that stinks,’ said George. He raised his gun. ‘Firing squad to finish him off?’
Slayer looked at the people around him in disbelief. They were nobodies, they hadn’t the right to kill him. He was powerful, he had the kind of wealth they could only dream of. He was also growing weaker, his vision dimming. His sight lasted long enough for him to see them stand in line in front of him and each take aim.
‘On the count of three,’ Indigo said. ‘One … two … three!’
Short bursts of gunfire rang out, Slayer twitched and jerked as he was pummelled by bullets, then there was silence. The group stood, not speaking, for several moments.
‘Just him now,’ said Indigo, looking at Glasgow.
George bent down and felt for a pulse. ‘He’s gone. They’re all dead.’
‘Poor Valerie,’ said Mayfly. She put the gun down and rubbed at her eyes. ‘Poor soul.’
While Indigo and JacktheRiffer threw the bodies into the pit, Mayfly and George gathered up all the rifles. They went in next, along with the hunting knife JacktheRiffer had used on Slayer, then Valerie was laid carefully on top. Finally, George shovelled in a layer of lime, then they dragged the cover over the top again.
The Last Weekend Page 22