Gripping Thrillers

by Iain Rob Wright

  Leo nodded his head. “Nice!”

  “There’s a vodka here, I think,” said Monty, lifting a tumbler of clear liquid.

  Leo put his hand up like he was in class. “Here.”

  Cheryl was smiling now, enthused that they were about to solve another puzzle. It assured her they were still just playing a game, and that everything was as it should be. As long as they were solving puzzles, they were doing what they had come here to do. “Okay, okay, so we have a beer too. Happy, do you drink beer?”

  Happy pulled a face and rubbed his tummy. “Too gassy at my age. No, if I do have the odd drink it’s a gin and tonic.”

  Alfie chuckled. “That’s such an old person drink, man.”

  Happy raised an eyebrow at the young lad. “It’s remarkably refreshing.”

  “There’s a gin and tonic here, I think.” Monty handed a glass through the bars and Happy took it. There was a slice of lemon in it. He sipped at it and then sighed with pleasure.

  “Okay,” said Cheryl, now looking at Monty. “The beer must be yours then.”

  Monty grunted. “No, it ain’t. I don’t drink.”

  Cheryl frowned. “Really?”

  “I’m Muslim, innit?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, sorry; but it makes no sense. Who does the beer belong to if not you? Damn, I thought I had it.”

  Leo patted her on the back. “Bad luck, Cher. I thought you had it too.”

  John grunted. “Okay, keep thinking everyone. I’m sure the answer is obvious.”

  There was silence for half-a-minute while everyone thought about it. Eventually Alfie cleared his throat. “Um, Monty does drink. He’s blagging you, Cher. I’ve seen him down enough pints to know.”

  “Shut the fuck up, bruh. I’ll mash you up!”

  Alfie glared through the bars at Monty. “What you lying for, bruh? We all seen you drink bare amounts.”

  John nodded and so did Maggie. Apparently this was a well-known secret. Leo, too, seemed as if he knew. “Who cares, Monty? If you like a drink, fair play.”

  Monty marched out of the room and back into the tunnel. “It ain’t even like that, man. Me and a few lads from mosque might like a cheeky beer now and then, but it’s serious fucking business. My old man finds out and he’ll drown me in the canal. No one can ever find out, you get me?”

  Leo held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Your life, Monty. I won’t say a word to anyone.”

  Monty turned his glare on Cheryl. It was a hard, unfriendly look, and caused her to hold her hands up in surrender as well. “Who the heck am I going to tell, Monty? I barely know you.”

  He seemed to relax. “I’m a good Muslim, yeah? I just think some of the rules are…”

  “Bullshit?” Leo suggested.

  “Don’t be saying shit about my faith, bruh.”

  “Ha! Make your mind up, dude. Look, chill out, we can all believe what we want to believe. Long as we’re all good to one another, right?”

  Monty nodded, although he glared at Leo a moment longer before finally looking away. “Nuff said about it, yeah?”

  “Okay,” said Cheryl, attempting to get things back on track. She hadn’t forgotten about the prize money — or the time limit. “So, Monty, I know it’s a touchy subject, but for the purposes of this game, can you pick up the beer, please?”

  Monty retrieved the pint and brought it out. He appeared less angry now and more apprehensive, but rather than keep his feelings to himself, he shared them. “I trust all of you, yeah, but how did the jokers running this thing find out? You been spilling shit about us all, John?”

  John sipped the single malt and sighed. “I said nothing to no one. I honestly don’t know how they found out what we like to drink, but you can ask them about it once we get out of here. I shall be.”

  “This is getting personal,” said Alfie after taking a long swig of his cider. “It ain’t just a game, they’re basing the puzzles on our lives. That’s well iffy.”

  “It’s in bad taste, I agree,” said Happy, “but they probably didn’t realise they would be prodding at open wounds. Most people aren’t embarrassed by their age or what they drink.”

  “Right,” said Leo. “I have nothing to hide. They can try to get inside my head all they want.”

  “I agree with Happy,” said Maggie, arms folded and mouth pursed. “How could the event organiser know that John would lie about his age?”

  “Or that Monty don’t want people to know he drinks,” added Alfie.

  The comments aggravated both men, so Happy put a hand up to prevent further comments. “Cheryl has this puzzle in the bag, so let’s get back to her theory. We each have the right drink, so what next?”

  “The letters,” she said, having already thought through the next step. “Everyone has a letter on their glass, right?”

  Everyone checked and discovered it to be true.

  Alfie shrugged. “I have a ‘G.’ What does that stand for?”

  Leo scratched a thumbnail over the letter on his vodka glass. “I have a ‘U.’ Reckon we have to spell out a word?”

  John examined the letter on his glass. “That must be it. What order should we be in?”

  “By age,” said Cheryl. “Take your tipple, youngest first. Everyone needs to stand in a line, youngest to oldest.” Everyone shuffled around until they had a line starting with Alfie and ending with Happy. “Great! Now read out your letters in order.”

  Alfie started. “G.”

  Leo. “U.”

  Monty. “I.”

  Maggie. “L.”

  John. “T.”

  Happy read out the letter on his gin and tonic. “Y.”

  Cheryl flicked her tongue back and forth while she put the letters together in her head. “G-U-I-L-T-Y. The letters spell guilty.”

  Leo stopped smiling. “Well, that’s unsettling. What does it mean?”

  Cheryl suddenly wished she had a drink in her hand. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  “It’s just a game,” said Monty. “They’re messing with us.”

  Cheryl had been chewing her lip but stopped now to speak. “I’m a little freaked out.”

  “I second that,” said Maggie. She had taken her wooly hat off now and her dark hair fell in a ponytail over her shoulder. “All this drama is making me ill. I want to go to the hotel.”

  Happy told everyone to calm down. “Monty’s right,” he said. “This is all part of the experience. Being made to feel uncomfortable is what we expected, correct? People today demand shock value, they want to be frightened out of their skin, and the only way entertainment companies can get ahead is to push the envelope. We’re getting our money’s worth, that’s all. I, for one, am having fun.”

  “You sound so certain,” said Cheryl, wanting to be comforted by his words but not quite there yet. “You really think this is all okay?”

  “Better to look on the bright side until left with no other choice, don’t you agree? We came here to solve puzzles and, so far, I believe we’ve been doing that rather well. You most of all, Cheryl. You’ve impressed us all.”

  “It’s true,” said John, nodding earnestly.

  Leo gave Cheryl a pat on the arm. “You’ve solved every puzzle so far. Now we have to find out what to do with the word guilty, so come on, genius, what’s next?”

  Suddenly everyone was looking at her, and she found it ironic that she had gained her colleague’s respect through a game rather than her work. “Maybe it’ll allow us to open another room,” she said, looking up the tunnel at the numerous barred gates. It was starting to resemble a prison landing and the subtle movements of the hanging lightbulbs made shadows twitch and flinch on the walls.

  “We should check the locks,” said Alfie. “See if any of them have opened.”

  “Good plan,” said John. “Get to work.”

  One by one, they checked the other padlocks on the gates, and after a moment’s searching Happy called out. “I think I have something here.”

  Cheryl
was still feeling anxious, so she took off towards him like a firework, eager to begin a new puzzle. It kept her mind occupied.

  “Letters,” Happy explained once she reached him. “This padlock has six rollers, but there are letters instead of numbers. Perhaps we can spell out the word that was written on our glasses.”

  John barged his way to the front. “What are you waiting for then? Try the combination.”

  Happy nodded. His hands were calloused and his fingers gnarled, but he thumbed at the rollers gamely. Letter by letter, he spelled out the word GUILTY.

  The padlock popped open with an audible clack.

  “We’re getting pretty good at this,” said Leo, pressing up against Cheryl’s hip. Was he touching her on purpose? “Maybe we’re not all going to die down here after all.”

  “Not amusing,” said John with a scowl.

  “Yeah,” said Cheryl, moving aside to open up some space between them. “Please don’t say things like that.”

  “Sorry.”

  Happy yanked the cell door and it made the typical horror movie sound of ‘rusty gate opening.’ It set Cheryl’s nerves on edge. Why was she so jumpy? Everyone here was a little paranoid, admittedly, but their rational selves were winning over — even if only barely. She, on the other hand, felt more and more like freaking out. She kept telling herself it was just the excitement of being in a social situation outside of work, but she felt like she was standing on a beach watching people swim shark-infested waters. She was the only one who could perceive the danger while everyone else flapped about blindly. Desperately, she wanted someone to freak out so that she could join them. She just couldn’t be the first.

  They didn’t have to enter the unlocked cell to see what was inside for it was well lit. A large pallet of tiles took up most of the space. Maggie rubbed at her chin thoughtfully when she noticed them, and seemed troubled by something, but the tiles were unremarkable as far as Cheryl could tell.

  “Those are Spanish Flag,” said John, gripping the bars while he peered inside.

  “Yeah,” said Alfie. “We used to shift a tonne of those back when I first started with the company. What happened to them?”

  John shrugged. “We were only making twenty-percent margin, so we changed suppliers. Alscon grew, we demanded better rates elsewhere.”

  Monty smirked. “Plus, I sold all the stock of Spanish Flag the supplier had to the Council when they refurbed the town college. They covered half-an-acre in this ugly stuff. Was a massive deal.”

  Maggie stopped staring at the tiles and looked at Monty. “Yeah, I remember. I had to go through a dozen different departments before someone at the town hall finally paid the bill. I remember it well because it was right around the time...” She trailed off, glancing at Happy for a split-second, then staring down at the floor. She cleared her throat. “I just remember it.”

  Cheryl was confused. “What? Right around the time of what?”

  Happy put a hand on Cheryl’s shoulder. “It was right around the time my niece disappeared. Her name was Polly, and she worked in sales.”

  “At Alscon?”

  “Yes. I talked John into giving her a go. He’d just hired his nephew, Alfie, so I thought hiring my niece would make things fair and square.”

  John chuckled. “Polly was a good salesperson. Even gave Monty a run for his money.”

  “Beginner’s luck,” said Monty, but meant it lightheartedly. “Polly was a sweetheart. Wish I knew what happened to her.”

  “Yeah,” said Alfie, staring glumly at the floor. “Me too.”

  Cheryl kept her focus on Happy who seemed at once cheerful and sad as he spoke about his missing niece. She felt bad asking for details, but it was hard to believe without knowing more. “Your niece just disappeared?”

  He nodded. “It was after Alscon’s year-end party. We were all staying overnight at this big country manor, the Claybrook Estate. Everyone was drinking too much, and having a good time, but Polly was gone when we prepared to leave the next morning. The police were involved; thought she might have gone for a walk around the grounds and gotten hurt or…” he shrugged, “taken. A search team went out. Rewards were offered. My sister even begged for Polly’s safe return on the evening news, but no one ever found a single clue of her whereabouts. It was like she never existed. Except for the fact I miss her every day.” He tapped the badge on his lapel. NEVER GIVE UP. “That’s why I wear this every now and then, to remind myself to keep hope that one day the truth will come out. My sister deserves closure.”

  Cheryl’s stomach turned. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry, Happy.”

  “We all are,” said John. “Polly had a bright future. Probably would’ve been running Alscon by now. I could have retired to Spain.”

  Happy waved a hand at them. “Let’s not reopen old wounds. It was two years ago. Two years next month in fact.”

  Monty shook his head and tutted. “Has it really been that long?”

  “Yes, it has really been that long. Although it still feels like yesterday sometimes.”

  Alfie cleared his throat and nodded at the pallet of tiles. “So what’s with these then? Why have they dumped a load of our old stock down here? How did they even get it?”

  “It’s missing stock,” said Maggie. “Took me a moment to figure it out, but pallets 6–18 went missing before they ever made it to the construction site. Caused me a right headache at the time. Much like the one I have now.”

  Cheryl saw the orange ‘6’ scrawled on the pallet’s middle beam and realised what Maggie was saying. “You’re telling me this pallet was stolen two years ago? And now it’s here?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you!” Maggie looked in pain, like every word out of her mouth sent sparks through her brain. “We mark our pallets with a fluorescent orange marker. This pallet is one of ours. Stolen.”

  Alfie loosened his scarf and rubbed his neck. “I’m telling you, man, this is personal. This company knows our ages, our drinking habits, and now this... Not to mention the fact they have the front half of Monty’s old motor down here.”

  Leo flinched. “What?”

  “That TVR,” said Alfie. He sounded a little hysterical and continued loosening his shirt like he was overheating, despite the chill in the air. “That’s Monty’s TVR. He wrote the stupid thing off less than a month after he got it.”

  “I knew I recognised it,” said Leo, his face suddenly lighting up. He pointed at Monty. “You must have had that thing for all of two weeks. I figured you swapped it for the Range Rover. Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t recognise it right away.”

  Monty couldn’t look anyone in the eye. In fact, he turned his back on them as he spoke. “Thing was a death trap. They shouldn’t be allowed to sell ‘em. Anyway, that’s not my old car, it’s just the same model. They probably got one at the scrap yard just to mess with me.”

  “That’s what I thought at first,” said Alfie, “but not no more. I reckon it’s the exact same one, bruh.”

  “It’s a coincidence,” Monty repeated.

  “You did write it off though?” asked Leo. He looked towards the sports car, rear half still missing.

  Monty shrugged, still not looking at them. “Don’t really remember what happened, but I must have ended up in a spin or something. Tore the back half away but, somehow, I didn’t get a scratch on me. I’m lucky to be alive, bruh, I swear down. You’ll never catch me in a sports car again. Luxury SUVs all the way for Monty Rizwan.”

  Leo swallowed a lump in his throat, a bulge rolling down his long neck. “How could they know about the accident? How could they have known you lost the back half? Do they have your insurance records or something?”

  Monty shrugged ignorance. “If it’s a joke, I ain’t laffin.”

  Alfie rubbed at his stunted hand as if it was hurting him. It was rare he did anything to bring attention to his deformity, which was why it made him appear so vulnerable. “These people are screwing with us,” he said. “I’m telling
you. We should have kept our phones. We need help.”

  There was a chill in the air that everyone seemed to notice at once. They were all wearing coats, but they hugged themselves and moved closer together. Cheryl could still feel heat being blasted from the slim vents at ankle-height, but she had the suspicion the temperature had been turned down. The fans overhead rotated sluggishly.

  “This isn’t a game,” said Maggie. “No one is having fun here.”

  Cheryl hugged herself and shuddered as a chill ran along her shoulders. “So, what are you saying?”

  Maggie shook her head. She didn’t have an answer.

  Leo moved in front of John. “Who is this company, boss? What are they playing at?”

  “Yeah,” said Alfie. “I’d like to know too.”

  John stared at the floor and didn’t look up for several moments. “They’ve taken things too far. They probably just researched us to make the games more engaging, but I don’t care. They won’t be getting any of our business, I promise you. Any more of this and they’ll end up in court.”

  That wasn’t the question Leo had asked, so Cheryl asked it again. “Who are they, John? What is the company called?”

  John squinted as though trying to remember. “They were called, um, yeah, I remember, they were called Retribution Ltd.”

  “Yes,” said Happy. “That was the name.”

  “Wow!” said Leo. “Nothing worrying about that at all. Retribution? Seriously? And the word guilty written on our glasses. Is the company run by some guy called Judge McPunisher?”

  Monty tutted. “Come on, you lot, keep your marbles. It’s just a game, innit? Fair play to this Retribution Ltd for taking their shit seriously. They don’t mess around, and I like it. I might even invest in their operation. Been meaning to make my money work harder for me.”

  Maggie unfolded her arms and rubbed at her forehead. “I don’t believe you, Monty. You’re pretending you aren’t as freaked out as the rest of us, but it’s bullshit.”

  “Nobody’s hurt, are they? If somebody wanted to get us, why go to this length or expense? There are easier ways to mess somebody up, you get me? The only reason to spend money is to make money, so this is obviously a business. A business that won’t get our cash if we’re injured, so just chill, woman.”