by Shaun Baines
"Mam said not to speak to strangers outside the school gates," Daniel said.
"How about on holy ground then? You'll be safe there, surely?"
The shadow of the church fell across them and Daniel's skin puckered into goosepimples. "I don't think so."
"This affects you as much as it does me."
Daniel ground the tension from his jaw. "Like you said, my daughter goes to school here. It's not a place to conduct business."
"I wouldn't be here if I had a choice," Sophia said.
The blue of her eyes shimmied, like sunshine skating the surface of water.
Daniel thought she might cry.
He pointed at the church and followed Sophia into the grounds. Its granite spire pierced the sky, sharp enough to draw blood. Slipped roofing tiles looked like jagged teeth, ready to fall at the next breeze, but the entrance was wide with a path that had once been well-trodden.
Daniel and Sophia couldn't breach the fence without causing a disturbance, but they were close enough to see the inscription over the closed doors.
It read The Chapel of St. Nicholas.
"Patron saint of children," Sophia said.
A statue of the man perched over the door. It was weathered and missing a nose. It looked more like a ghoul than a saint, but Daniel kept his mouth shut.
"I'm not sure how to do this, Mr Dayton." Sophia fidgeted with her handbag, undoing the clasp.
"Just to be clear," he said. "I don't pay for it."
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"Information. I assume you're here to tell me about a drunken security guard or ex-husband you want silenced. You give me an in and want a percentage of the profit? Not going to happen."
Daniel watched a family of diseased pigeons fighting for space on the head of a gargoyle. "You came looking for me," he said. "You must know who I am."
Sophia nodded, worrying her lips.
"Then you'll know patience is not one of my virtues." Daniel's eyes went to the handbag and they hardened.
"You're right. I need your help." Sophia reached into her handbag with a thumb and forefinger. "This is how it came."
She handed Daniel an egg box. It was grey on top, but its underside was stained red. He felt dampness on his fingers and smelled a coppery tang he was all too familiar with.
"I take it you don't work with chickens," he said, studying the blood.
Sophia wiped her hands on the expensive suit she was wearing.
Opening the egg box, Daniel stared at its contents. He was glad Sophia had insisted on doing this on holy ground. There was something profane about the box being so close to a school. He wasn't surprised, but neither was he pleased. Daniel laid the box on the ground and stepped away, hitting the speed dial to Bronson on his phone.
"Something is happening," he said.
Chapter Four
"Why did you bring me here?" Sophia asked.
The abandoned church provided discretion, but Daniel needed more. He needed safety and drove Sophia to Bon Bon Voyage, a sweet shop in Pelaw.
They didn't talk on the journey there. Daniel listened to Metro Radio, familiarising himself with the music his daughter was increasingly ranting about. She was growing up too fast. Her new school would teach her things beyond Daniel's comprehension. He often found her using the computer in the study when she should have been wasting time playing games. It unsettled him.
Sophia sat silently, tracing the worry lines of her forehead with a fingertip.
The shop sold retro sweets in plastic jars. They were weighed on scales and dropped into stripy, paper bags. The owner was called Charlie Palumbo, a man with a round stomach and veiny jowls. He was the only owner in a row of shops that didn't pay Daniel protection money. He provided a safehouse instead and a place to meet.
Daniel and Sophia sat at a rickety table in a storeroom. The bloodied egg box sat between them. Unopened sweet jars were stacked against the wall and Sophia studied the labels.
"Rhubarb and Custard Cubes. Pear Drops," she said, reading the labels in a monotone voice. "Liquorice Bullets were my favourite."
She clutched and unclutched her designer handbag, her manicured nails tapping on the straps. Her nerves sparked off her.
Daniel almost reached over to take her hand, but stared at the table instead. "This will soon be over."
A sigh escaped her lips and her breath reached Daniel. It was as sweet as the sugar they were surrounded by.
The door to the storeroom opened and Daniel clasped his hands together.
Bronson was a short man with muscles like melted girders. His handlebar moustache was trimmed to stubble and the twitch in his cheek danced madly, matching the light behind his eyes. He wore a dark, ill-fitting suit and a lemon yellow tie.
"If Charlie doesn't keep his fat hands out of those sweet jars, he's going to end up like Joey Doughnut."
Bronson grabbed a container of spongey pink shapes, studying them through the plastic. "Pink Shrimp. I used to love these."
He twisted off the lid and shoved two in his mouth at once.
Daniel cleared his throat and Bronson suddenly noticed Sophia. His eyes glittered like the crystallised sugar sweets. He dusted off his hand and offered it to her. "I'm Charles Bronson. Not the actor," he said with a hurried swallow.
Sophia smiled, taking his hand.
The colour in Bronson's cheeks deepened. "God, I hope I'm here to help you. I'm the Dayton consiglieri."
"What? Like the pasta?"
"Can we get on with this?" Daniel asked, pointing to an empty chair.
Popping another shrimp into his mouth, Bronson took a seat and tried to look serious.
Daniel turned to Sophia and her eyes strained to the egg box.
"It's my daughter," she said. "She's gone."
"You mean, she's run away from home?" Bronson asked.
Sophia shook her head. "She's been kidnapped."
The chair squeaked as Bronson shifted his weight. "Are you sure? There isn't a lot of that stuff going on these days. It's a risky business."
Daniel opened the egg box, holding back the lid so Bronson could get a clear view. Inside was a human ear, grey and shrivelled, curling at the edges. Dried blood had turned black where it had been sheared from someone's head.
Bronson looked at his shrimp sweets, drawing an ugly comparison and dropped the jar to the floor. It rolled to the wall, resting next to jars of Cherry Lips and Bull's Eyes.
"Do you know who did this?" Daniel asked.
"It came with a note." Sophia fished a piece of paper from her handbag and laid it out for them to see.
It read: Karin is safe. Most of her. To get what's left, deposit £3,000 to the bank account below on the 1st of next month. The Motorheads will not contact you again.
"That's what they're called?" Daniel asked. "The Motorheads? I've never heard of them."
Bronson worked gelatinous pink goo around his teeth with a finger. "Well, they're definitely serious. Three thousand pounds is a small amount. Most people could raise that, especially when it concerns the safety of a loved one. It makes it less likely they'll get the police involved."
He eyed the designer handbag in Sophia's trembling hands. "I take it you have the money?" Bronson asked her.
She nodded. "I have twenty thousand."
"Then, I don't see why you need us." Daniel leaned back in his chair, a frown creasing his brow. "Pay the money. Get your daughter back."
Bronson scratched the stubble of his moustache. "But it is weird, though."
"It's only weird when you make it weird," Daniel said, drawing his finger through sugar dust on the table.
"The first of next month," Bronson said. "That's weeks away. The longer you hold someone hostage, the more likely you are to be caught. Why keep someone for that length of time? What are they doing with her?"
The question landed with a thud, echoing around the room while its occupants considered the answer.
Daniel shrugged. "Karin will be hidden where no-o
ne can find her. I'm sure she'll be safe."
"And kidnapping?" Bronson added. "For three thousand pounds? That's serious jail time for such a little payday."
"Maybe they're just starting out? Seeing if the kidnapper cap fits."
But Bronson shook his head. "There's no way a newbie would have the stomach to lop off an ear first time out. And look at the note. It's been printed out and photocopied a dozen times over so no-one can tell where it came from. These guys are pros."
"That's such horseshit," Daniel said. "You know what your problem is – "
He stopped short, his thoughts interrupted by Sophia's quiet sniffs. Her chin was tucked into her chest, her body shaking as she failed to control her sobs.
Daniel and Bronson looked away, embarrassed for squabbling in front of her.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said.
Bronson squirmed. "We were just thinking out loud."
"If you don't pay," Daniel added, as gently as he could, "the chances of your daughter being returned alive are slim. I think Bronson is right. These are serious people."
"Which is why I came to you." Sophia took the note and folded it in half, returning it to her handbag. She dried her eyes and sat straighter in her chair. "The twenty thousand is for the Daytons. Three now. The rest will come later."
Running a hand down his shirt, Daniel breathed deeply. "Why? Why do you need us?"
Sophia reached for the eggbox, closing it carefully before giving it to Daniel.
"Because that's not my daughter's ear."
Chapter Five
Lying on her back, Karin pressed tentative fingers to her eyes. There was nothing there to feel. They were covered in foam padding, held in place by frayed tape. They were still sore, though. Still burning. She imagined them red and puffy where she'd been peppered by that little prick. The memory of the attack forced her to sit up and she swivelled her head left and right, listening to silence.
She began to peel away the padding.
"Leave it alone," a voice said. "You're safe."
Karin's heart jolted in her chest. She scrambled backwards, knocking her head against an unseen wall.
"Calm down," the voice said.
"Who are you? Where am I?"
The thudding of her heart matched the throb at the back of her head. She wanted to scratch out the pain with her fingernails, but she didn't dare to move. The voice was too close. It came from a man and she didn't recognise it.
"If you calm down, I'll take the patches off your eyes," the man said.
Karin heard shuffling and felt the heat of someone close.
"Be still," the voice said.
She froze. Only her fingers moved as they searched the floor for a weapon, but there was nothing. Karin forced herself to relax, ignoring the thud of her heartbeat. She had this. Just let him take the patches off, she thought. Let him get close enough to regret it.
The man's hands were firm, but gentle. He tugged the tape loose on one side and then the other, teasing the pads away. For one insane moment, Karin felt like she was being undressed, as if this unseen man was exposing her.
Her knuckles cracked as she tightened her fist.
"I'm not going to hurt you," the man said, "and hitting me isn't going to solve your problems. Not this one, anyway."
The softness of his tone was at odds with the threat of his words. The patches were lifted from her eyes. Her eyelids were sticky and Karin struggled to open them. When she did, the shapes in front of her were blurred, as if she was seeing them through a blanket of water. She blinked repeatedly and they came into focus.
A shaft of yellow light came from a window above, too weak to dispel the dark. Her hand brushed along the floor, finding grit and something else. Shredded newspaper. No, shredded cardboard, like bedding in an animal pen. The air was damp, tinged with the scent of mould. Her skin prickled in the cold.
"Can you see?" the man asked.
Karin blinked some of the pain from her eyes. The man stood over her, but he was more of a boy. He was fair-faced with a deep voice. His hair was blonde and dirty, parted down the middle. He was dressed in pyjamas covered in dirt.
"They got me with pepper spray, too," he said. "Takes time for it to wear off. My name's Adrian."
"Where am I?" Karin asked.
"I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a factory, I think, but we don't know where." Adrian shrugged and gave her a half-smile.
The back of Karin's neck suddenly enflamed. She felt it every time violence was close, either by her hand or another's. It wasn't a sixth sense. It was fear, pure and simple. Fear of the unknown.
"What happened to you?" she asked, gesturing to Adrian.
His hand went to the bandages around his head. He had padding of his own, secured over his left ear. The bandages used to be white, but had turned grey and were flecked with dirt.
"We're not allowed to talk about it," he said.
Karin's hands curled into fists. This was bullshit. She'd been kidnapped. Some ratbag had kidnapped her. The tension in her stomach threatened to bubble over. People got hurt when it happened and it wasn't their fault, but it wasn't hers, either.
"What are you talking about?" she shouted. "Who's we?"
Clasping his hands as if he was about to pray, Adrian stepped into the shadows. His face turned into a moon-like orb, floating in the blackness. Soon, other orbs appeared, white and ghostly. As they stepped closer to the shaft of yellow light, their bodies followed. They were all dressed in tatty pyjamas.
There was a man, a girl and Adrian.
"Who's in charge here?" Karin shouted. "Where's that Chinaman?"
The teenagers shuffled closer to each other, their voices lost in whispers.
"He's called Choo," Adrian said. "Please stay calm. You don't want him here."
"I'm not scared. I'll knock the little sod out." The sweat on the back of Karin's neck grew heavy, but she ignored it as she always did. "This isn't a sleepover. It's not a bloody slumber party. In your PJ's and nighties. Why are you dressed like that?"
"Our clothes are burned when we arrive," Adrian said. "In case the police have a description of what we were wearing."
Karin slapped the floor, sending a cloud of cardboard into the air. "Look at you lot. You're acting like nothing's wrong."
She was ready now. Worked up and in control. She looked at Adrian, hoping to find some defiance in him, something to tell her she wasn't on her own.
"Look at us?" he asked gently. "Maybe you should take a look at yourself first."
Frowning, she followed his gaze.
Her clothes were gone. In their place were a set of ragged pyjamas.
Karin felt more exposed than ever.
Chapter Six
"How do you know that's not your daughter's ear?" Daniel asked, purposely not looking at the box.
Sophia pressed a tissue into her damp eyes. "My daughter has pierced ears. Both of them. Against my wishes, I might add. I know my Karin. She's unique."
Daniel forced himself to look at the ear. There was obvious damage, but a puncture wound to the lobe wasn't part of it.
"I've been hearing stories," Sophia said. "Of kids going missing. Well, young adults, mainly. They disappear overnight."
"Some people run away, especially at that age," Daniel said.
"It's their hormones," Bronson said. "Or too much acne cream. Makes them go crazy."
"That's what the police told me," Sophia said. "That Karin would be back after a few days."
"How long has she been missing?" Daniel asked.
"A few days." Sophia twisted the tissue in her hands, shredding it into confetti. "Karin…she's a troubled girl. Always fighting. Staying out late. She has a record. As soon as the police saw that, they called her a runaway."
Daniel looked at Sophia's designer clothes and expensive handbag. He imagined she lived somewhere exclusive, a place where house prices came with a lot of noughts. His home was somewhere similar. As such, Da
niel could also imagine her neighbours and their disdain when they learned of Karin's latest fall from grace.
A silver chain flashed on Sophia's wrist, drawing Daniel's attention.
"It's a charm bracelet," Sophia said, playing with the pendants. Attached to the chain were hearts and teddy bears.
"What's that one?" Daniel asked, motioning toward the bracelet.
"It's a trainer," Sophia said with an embarrassed smile. "I think she stole it for my birthday."
"Did you show the police your…?" Bronson asked, nudging the egg box with a tentative finger.
"I didn't get it until afterwards," Sophia said. "By that time, I'd lost faith in them."
The Daytons had been a powerful criminal family once. They had run Newcastle like dictators, but those days were over. Like Karin, their fall from grace had been spectacular, but they were dragging themselves out of the ashes. The new Dayton family weren't related by blood. They were united in the spilling of it.
Outside of the storeroom, the bell of Bon Bon Voyage tinkled above the door. Daniel heard shuffling footsteps before music began, sounding as if it was playing through a phone. It was a song Daniel had heard on the radio, but which he couldn't name. The lyrics were familiar and just when he thought he might recognise it, a second song was played. This one had no words and seemed to be constructed from torturing a guitar.
"What's going on in there?" Bronson asked, jamming fingers into his ears.
"Ignore it," Daniel said. "It must be kids."
"I'm getting a headache." Bronson half-rose from his seat before Daniel shot him a look. He sat back down, wincing. "As if poor Charlie doesn't have enough problems with his weight. He'll also be deaf before the day is through."
Daniel forced his thoughts through the musical din.
"Where was Karin seen last?" he asked.
"She said she was going to see friends in Byker."
Bronson wrinkled his nose. "Byker?"
"There's nothing wrong with it," Sophia said. "We used to live there."
"We can take a look around," Daniel said.