Gripping Thrillers

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Gripping Thrillers Page 59

by Iain Rob Wright


  Maggie nodded and seemed to relax. In fact, everybody did for it was true. Why would anybody go to such expense merely to screw with a group of office workers? This was all part of an experience, and Retribution Ltd was doing its best to win a corporate account.

  Despite the relief, Cheryl felt like throwing up. She hadn’t worked with these people long enough to trust them, and part of her mind nagged her to get the hell out of that hole. She never should have gone down there.

  What if Alscon has drawn the anger of some deranged madman and this is his maniacal revenge? Mum will kill me if I get murdered and chopped up.

  “I think we should just carry on playing,” said Leo. “It’s the only way we’ll get answers. There’s a pallet of stolen tiles in that cell so why don’t we think about what that means?”

  “It means,” said John. “That one of you is a fucking thief. And God help them if I find out who.”

  “Hey, um, guys?” Leo was crouched behind the pallet of tiles, and he looked at them over the top now. It was obvious from his expression that he’d found something.

  “What is it?” Cheryl accidentally yelled the question and embarrassed herself. Her nerves remained unsettled, and she desperately wished she still had her phone so she could call her mother — even if it was only to hear a lecture. I warned you not to go, Cher, but you never listen. Then she would call the police and tell them she was trapped in a gloomy, steel tunnel fifteen feet underground.

  But hey, at least I’m out of the house. Yay for me.

  Leo reached down and produced another tablet like the one that was affixed to the TVR’s engine. He placed it on top of the tiles with the screen facing everybody. “You think this might give us answers?”

  “Does it switch on?” asked John. He stood close to Maggie now, the previous distance between them non-existent. His jaw was clenched and his hands locked into fists — like he was just begging for somebody to shout at. God help anyone at Retribution Ltd.

  “Hold on, let me try.” Leo prodded a button at the bottom of the tablet and the screen came immediately to life. A video started playing.

  There was nothing on screen except for a man; but it was no ordinary man. This person had no eyes — only flat, bumpy flesh over hollow sockets. His nose and mouth were normal, but his head lacked a single hair. Nor did he have eyebrows or facial hair. He was more mannequin than man. “To lie is to be human,” he said in a rasping hiss like crushed insects, “but to steal is a crime. All of you are deceivers, all of you are liars, but only one of you is a thief. Will that person come forward and confess?”

  Cheryl looked at the others, but no one moved a muscle. They stood, transfixed by the abomination on screen.

  The eyeless man sighed and ran a slender set of fingers over the patchy skin covering his eye sockets. “I see you not, but I am certain none of you has stepped forwards. As you wish; in lieu of dignity, the thief shall be coerced to confess. Punishment shall be dispensed.”

  Leo shifted uncomfortably. “What does that mean?”

  Cheryl shushed him.

  The horrific stranger continued, thin lips barely moving as he spoke. “The room beside this one is locked with an automatic bolt. Inside, are enough supplies to help you survive one week. In seven days, an anonymous call to the police shall see you set free, but without the supplies in the next room, you shall be long dead by the time help arrives.”

  “I fucking told you,” said Alfie. “We’re screwed. This is fucked! Fucked!”

  Maggie wailed. John had to place an arm around her waist to keep her in place. She buried her head against his chest and sobbed.

  Cheryl teetered and feared she might fall. Was this a joke? Because it wasn’t funny. She moved next to Leo, not touching him, but close enough to grab him if the need arose.

  The stranger kept on, giving them no time to digest what they were hearing. He whispered now, his voice like running salt. “If you wish to unlock the next room, the thief must reveal themselves and accept punishment. A man who takes with one hand must lose the other. That is the price to be paid. One hand will secure the lives of all of you.”

  The tablet faded to black. Leo jabbed at the button but nothing happened. “There must’ve been some kind of code or script or—” He shook his head as though forcing himself not to get carried away. “Yeah, well, whatever it was, it must have fired when I pressed the button. The tablet’s dead.”

  Maggie clutched John like he was holding her afloat. “There must be a way to get it back on. We can email the police. Make it come back on, Leo. This is getting out of hand.”

  Leo picked the tablet up and thrust it at her. “Give it a shot, Mag! I’m telling you, it’s dead.”

  Maggie didn’t take the tablet. Her bottom lip trembled, and she looked away. John thrust out his palm. “All right, Leo, rein it in. You’re acting the twat.”

  Leo folded his arms and swore under his breath. Offended, he muttered, “Watch who you’re calling a twat.”

  “This is insane,” said Cheryl, fearing she was going to puke. Her tummy felt like the static on an old-fashioned television. “Who did you… who did you guys piss off?”

  John glared at her. “No one! I have no idea why this is happening. It’s a bloody outrage.”

  Monty pointed a finger at Happy. “You said you checked this company out, Hap, and that it was legit. What the hell?”

  Happy looked like he might burst into tears. “I-I don’t know what to tell you. I’m so sorry.”

  John was growling. “It’s not your fault, Hap. They’ll pay for this, trust me. We’ve been brought down here under false pretences.”

  Monty smashed his fist into his palm. “Who do they think they’re messing with? I’ll sue their arses off. My uncle’s a solicitor, innit?”

  John patted Monty on the back in support of his statement. “I’m with you, dude. They picked on the wrong group of people. If this is about money or blackmail, they won’t get any joy from us.”

  Cheryl took a deep breath and held it to ensure she didn’t throw up. “You keep saying they, but what if it’s just one guy? The guy without any eyes, maybe he’s a maniac.”

  “One man couldn’t do all this,” said Monty, “and you think we wouldn’t remember pissing off a guy with no eyes in his head?”

  Leo shrugged. “I’ve dated worse.”

  Alfie sat on the pallet of tiles and shook his head in despair. “Whatever the reason, we’re trapped down here. Part of me is still hoping it’s a game, but if what that guy on the tablet said is true, we might need to get through an entire week down here. Who’s this thief he was on about? Is there any truth to it?”

  Maggie wiped tears from her eyes but seemed angry now rather than afraid. She still seemed ill, however. “Somebody here is responsible for these tiles disappearing off one of our lorries, that much is obvious. So, come on! Who is it?”

  Silence. Nobody moved a muscle, probably for fear it would implicate them.

  “There’s no point hiding it,” said Cheryl, trying to keep her tone friendly rather than adversarial. “Let’s just do what we have to do to get out of here.”

  Monty turned on her, poking a finger in her face. “How do we know the thief ain’t you, luv?”

  “Um, because I wasn’t even with the company until three months ago. Oh, and I’m not even supposed to be here. Whatever grudge this psychopath has is against the six of you, not me. I’m an innocent bystander.”

  “She’s right,” said Leo. “Out of all of us here, Cheryl is the only one we know is innocent.”

  “You’re here because of me, Cher.” Maggie’s bottom lip quivered as she spoke. “I’m so sorry.”

  Too right, thought Cheryl. She should beat the woman’s head in, but what would it help? “You couldn’t have known, Mag.” To make it clear, she gave the woman a hug. “I’m not interested in blame. We just need to get through… whatever this is.”

  Maggie seemed to appreciate the hug, and she tried smiling, but when it turn
ed to more tears, she buried her head back in John’s chest. He rubbed at her back absentmindedly. He’d grown red in the cheeks, and his jaw flexed like it had a pulse running through it. Eventually words exploded from his mouth. “Just come out with it! One of you is a dirty thief, and I demand to know who it is. I gave you all jobs and this is how you repay me? Alscon took a write-down for those tiles. That’s money out of my own pocket. Whoever’s guilty, I want you to look me in the eye right now and admit it.”

  No one came forward.

  John swore at them and stormed off, leaving Maggie floundering as her security blanket removed itself, but there was nowhere for John to go. He was forced to stop only a few feet from the group and ended up spinning back around to face them again. This time, however, he wasn’t angry. He was visibly concerned. “I smell gas!”

  Leo paced towards him. “What? From where?”

  Both men peered into the nearest room off the side of the tunnel. Leo pointed. “Shit! It’s coming from in there. Those are the supplies we need.”

  Everyone raced to join them. Cheryl grabbed the gate and stared through the bars. Inside were several plastic crates of water, several of milk, and boxes upon boxes of crackers. Not a diet fit for a king, but enough to keep them alive for a week if they were truly trapped down there.

  This still has to be a joke, right? This is part of the game. To scare us?

  The smell of gas wafted through the bars and at the back of the cell a small flame suddenly burst to life. It rose out of what looked like a Bunsen Burner — a slim copper shaft like the ones Cheryl used to use at school.

  The blue flame rose higher and higher towards a thin cotton scarf decorated with pink hearts hanging two-feet above it. The fabric glistened, soaked through with what could only be petrol — Cheryl’s nose told her so. She also noticed a red plastic canister hanging from the ceiling. The wet scarf had been knotted around and stuffed into its spout. She’d once read that petrol exploding like a bomb was a Hollywood invention, but she didn’t want to find out.

  “The flame’s going to ignite that scarf,” said Leo, putting words to Cheryl’s thoughts. “It’s rigged to burn all the supplies!”

  She nodded. “And maybe us.”

  Alfie was staring up at the scarf as well, his eyes wide and terrified. It looked like he wanted to say something but was unable.

  The flame rose higher.

  They had minutes. Maybe less.

  “How do we put it out?” Maggie had her mittened hands over her mouth like a frightened child. “What do we do?”

  “The thief needs to own up,” said John. “Right now.”

  Leo kicked the bars, making them rattle. “Come on, man. Own up.”

  “You own up!” Alfie pointed a finger. “It was probably you, anyway. Jealous of the money we make in sales.”

  “It wasn’t me, Alfie, trust me.”

  John’s anger was rising like the flame inside the cell. “Somebody own up right now or I’ll sack the lot of you.”

  Happy moved towards John. “Calm down.”

  John shoved him aside. “You calm down.”

  “This is bullshit, man.” Monty shook his head and started walking away down the tunnel. Leo followed, but when he reached out to grab the salesman’s arm, Monty lashed out and shoved him back. “Keep your hands off me, bruh, or I’ll mash you up.”

  Leo kept his hands away. “Sorry, but you can’t just walk away from this, Monty. If this turns out not to be a joke then we’ll starve down here if we lose those supplies. You want to take that risk?”

  “I don’t give a shit, bruh!”

  Leo stared at Monty with an expression that seemed to communicate something between them. “I don’t think that dude on the tablet was messing around. Unless the thief owns up, our only chance of survival is about to go up in flames. We have to play ball.”

  Monty shouldered Leo aside and tried to walk away again, but it was like watching a rat trapped in a maze. Monty kept pacing back and forth, but there was nowhere for him to go except one end of the tunnel or the other.

  “We don’t have long left,” said Cheryl, hands trembling on the bars as she watched the supplies about to go up in flames. “Please, whoever stole the stupid tiles, just own up. Please!”

  Leo stood in Monty’s path. “Dude, if this is for real, we’re going to starve to death. Or maybe even burn.”

  Monty shoved Leo again, but this time Leo held his ground and frustrated him. “Get out my way, bruh. I’m not messing around. This gandu wants to mess with me, bring it on. He ain’t got nothing on me.”

  “You sure? Because those tiles got here somehow.”

  “Why the fuck would I need to steal when I’m already minted? Get real, bruh, yeah? I’ll mash you up if you don’t get out my face. So move! Come on, man, don’t make me drop you.” Monty bunched his fists. He was breathing heavily, and almost trembling with frustration, but Leo would not move out of his way. “What is your problem, bruh? I didn’t steal no goddamn tiles, so just move out the way. How would I even get away with it? They investigated at the time, innit? There’s no proof. Leo, I swear, man, just move. I didn’t do it. Move!”

  Cheryl saw John move away from the bars. There was a look of shock on his face. “Monty? I don’t believe it. It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Monty sneered. “I ain’t no fucking thief, John. You know me.”

  “Yeah, I do, which is why I know you’re lying. You’re panicking. You actually stole the tiles. Tell me why.”

  Monty’s mouth moved as if words were trying to escape. He resisted them for a while, but then couldn’t help himself and ended up yelling. “You made a fortune on that council deal, John, and you gave me, what, three-grand as a bonus?”

  John shook his head, eyes wide and disbelieving. “You earn a higher salary than I do for Christ’s sake! You must think I’m made of money, but I only get paid when the company does well. You get paid regardless. So yes, sometimes your hard work pays off for me, Monty, but when sales are bad, it’s me that suffers, not you. Welcome to the real world. You don’t like it, start your own goddamn business. I’ve treated you more than fairly.”

  Alfie frowned at Leo suspiciously. “You knew, didn’t you? You were hounding Monty because you knew he was the thief. How?”

  Leo sighed and lifted his chin as if he suddenly found it hard to meet anyone’s gaze. “I had no proof, but I suspected Monty was behind the missing tiles, yeah. He signed the purchase orders when they came through from the council, which was weird. Usually he would rather do anything other than paperwork. Everyone at the office is forever doing his admin, but he gets a pass because he’s the company’s top salesperson. I get it, and I don’t mind, but on this occasion he was adamant about doing all the paperwork himself. I figured he wanted to make sure nothing got screwed up — it was the biggest deal Alscon had ever had up until that point — but after twelve-grand’s worth of tiles went missing, I wondered.”

  “Why didn’t you say something,” John demanded. He looked ready to keel over. A boss probably expected a certain amount of employee disloyalty, but he appeared to be taking this betrayal hard. Cheryl felt bad for him.

  “I kept quiet because I didn’t want to stir a cauldron full of shit on the back of a hunch. Monty’s untouchable. I figured I’d be the one to come off worse if I said anything.”

  “I would’ve believed you, Leo,” said Maggie, rubbing at her throat as if it were sore. “Monty has always been out for number one.”

  Monty hissed at her. “Takes one to know one, plastic Sally.”

  “Fuck you, Monty. You’re just a thief.”

  “Hey!” Cheryl hollered at them from over by the bars. She still couldn’t take her eyes off the growing flame. “Monty is the thief, he’s admitted it, so come on, we need to deal with the problem at hand. We have to rescue these supplies.”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay.” Leo nodded. “What do we do, Cher?”

  “I… Shit, I don’t know.”

  “
Admit you’re the thief, Monty.” Happy had been standing idly to one side while the rest of them had been arguing, but he re-engaged now. “Say it out loud so that anyone who might be listening will hear you.”

  Monty pulled a face. “Fuck’s sake. Fine! My name is Monty Rizwan, and I stole a bunch of shitty tiles from Alscon. Fucking sue me!”

  “I’ll do more than that,” said John, taking off his coat and throwing it down.

  There was a sharp click and a gate sprung open. It was the one opposite the cell with the supplies. Cheryl groaned. “No, the wrong gate opened! We need those supplies.”

  John rolled up his shirt sleeves, and looked like he might attack Monty, but instead he hurried into the newly opened cell. He returned ten seconds later holding two items — a sharp-looking meat cleaver and a small water pistol with a funnel attached to the top. Nothing about his expression suggested he knew what they were for.

  “What the hell?” Maggie clutched her forehead and grimaced. The shadows beneath her eyes had grown worse, and she was sweating profusely. “I can’t take much more of this. What are we supposed to do with those?”

  “We take Monty’s hand,” said Leo grimly. “The dude on the tablet said the man who takes with one hand must lose the other.”

  “Fuck that shit,” said Monty, backing away.

  Alfie frowned. “What about the water pistol?”

  Cheryl didn’t know what disturbed her more; what she was thinking or the fact she arrived at the conclusion before anybody else. “That’s how we put out the flame. We need to fill it with blood.”

  John stared at the cleaver in his hand, then started towards Monty.

  4

  “Get the fuck away from me, bruh. What you gonna do, hack me to pieces, yeah?”

  John didn’t seem like he knew what he intended, but he clearly planned on doing something. His eyes glistened with hurt and anger as he waved the meat cleaver at Monty. “There’s no other option.”

 

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