Cuts Both Ways

by Solomon Carter

  “She does, doesn’t she. Kind of pretty – but still mean as hell. That’s an unusual mix.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Mark. He had got down to the final set of tape bindings and Dan was able to flex his fingers. He pulled his wrists wide apart as the loosened tape began to give. Another twenty seconds and he hoped he would be free.

  “The other guy…” said Dan, looking at his sore red hands in the half light. “Metal Mickey. He didn’t seem much like her captor to me, what about you? She’s supposed to be in trouble with these people.”

  Mark shook his head as he pulled at the tape between Dan’s wrists. “It didn’t look like it.”

  “And she didn’t look too vulnerable, either,” said Dan. Mark looked at his eyes as the last tape started to peel away. He was almost there. Almost, but not quite. The door was buffeted open again, and Alma Poulter walked into the room, leading the way. She turned her head back over her shoulder as she walked, speaking to someone following in her wake. It was him – the man in the denim jacket, his sharp eyes already on Dan’s but not quite getting the full picture. Alma Poulter was still in his way.

  “I told them I could keep them waiting all day if I wanted. I’ve got a feeling they might want to talk to us now though,” she said. But then she turned to face them and saw the black tape on the floor and Mark free of his bindings, standing beside Dan, working to set him free. Her big mouth fell open, exposing a mouthful of large white teeth. Not a junkie’s teeth. They were too clean, too white.

  “Oh shit,” she said. Dan pulled his hands away from Mark and gave him a hard look. He hoped the kid would understand, but he couldn’t say anything to explain. Mark looked at him surprised, momentarily confused, but then his look levelled out, as if he guessed Dan had an idea. Mark still looked deeply nervous, but at least he understood. With his eyes on Alma, Dan stamped a boot on the twisted loops of duct tape by his feet. He attempted to kick them behind him and felt the tape adhesive stick to his boots. He used one boot against the other, kicked the tape off his heel and pulled it back. And then very carefully, he began to prise his wrists apart.

  “Get away from him!” the woman roared. Mark did exactly as he was told. Dan stayed where he was and kept a grim, thwarted look on his face.

  “Good job I did that one’s bindings good and tight. I didn’t think the dweeb had it in him to even try and get out. He doesn’t look ballsy enough.” Alma walked to Mark’s end of the table and picked up the torn-off tape. She saw the cuts and tears in the binding and looked Mark over. “Bit of a boy scout on the sly, aren’t you?” she said.

  “Not really,” said Mark. “Never even joined the cubs.”

  “Did anyone ask you to speak?” said the man. Dan scanned the metal man’s hands. There was no gun in sight as yet. Must still be in his pocket. He guessed the guy thought he still had no need for it – not when the main threat was taped to a chair – not when all he was up against was a lad still in his teens.

  “Have they confessed yet?” said the man.

  The woman stood a half foot shorter than the metal man. She shook her head and stared at Dan.

  “No. It’s obvious but they won’t admit it. Soon as they tell us what the deal was, we’ll be able to work out what to do, where to go. Perhaps what else is coming our way. Until then…” She shrugged.

  “Not a problem,” said the metal man. “I think we can get them to talk. Maybe we’ve just been putting pressure in the wrong place. Isn’t that right?” He looked at Dan, then his eyes flicked onto Mark’s face and stayed there.

  “I know where to focus my efforts from now on, don’t you?”

  The guy made a big show of rolling up the sleeves on his denim jacket, exposing more cyber-punk-style tattoos on his sinewy brown arms. One of them looked like a fake bar code. Or perhaps it was a real barcode. Something with a clever hidden meaning, something prophetic in the numbers. Or maybe not. Maybe he could be scanned through as a tin of baked beans. As far as Dan could tell the world was getting weirder all the time. His hands were still stuck – but only barely. He was sure the tape didn’t need much more effort to come apart. The sweat started to prickle on his brow.

  “Do you want me to tell you how this is going to work?” said the man, his voice gruff, his eyes dark. He shook his head. “Or would you like to guess? No. You know what. I think I’ll just show you instead. A picture paints a thousand words and all that.”

  He seized hold of Mark’s arm and dragged him around the table back towards Dan, dragging him like a raging father would drag a child in a tantrum. Dan saw what was coming, and he swallowed in displeasure. It wasn’t hard to read at all by now. But he could only do something about it if the duct tape finally gave up the ghost.

  The metal man seized Mark’s shoulders, spun him around to make sure the kid had to look up into his eyes. And then the guy took a step back. He looked at Dan as he slowly raised a big bony fist.

  “Now, Cripps,” called the girl. “Don’t hurt him if you don’t have too. Not too badly.”

  “Not too badly? It’s up to this guy over here whether I hurt the lad at all. But from the look on his face, I think he knows that already. Don’t you, pal?”

  Dan shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Dan. Mark looked pale and terrified.

  “Why not?” said the man, fist held ready in the air.

  “I already told you people. But you’re not listening.”

  Dan yanked at the tape. He felt the tackiness peeling, but his hands were still stuck.

  “You told me nothing at all,” said Alma.

  “He will,” said the man. “I promise you, he will.”

  The man called Cripps tossed a lame looking jab at Mark’s face. From Dan’s perspective the punch was light. Very light. The kind of punch Dan would have swatted away without concern. But Mark didn’t have the skills or the fire in his belly. Cripps’s fist popped him on the nose, and right on cue, a trickle of blood ran down onto Mark’s lip. Dan bared his teeth as Mark dabbed at his bleeding nose in shock.

  “You didn’t need to do that!” said Dan.

  “I know I didn’t,” said Cripps. “But it’s your fault I did. Now why don’t you tell us what we need to know.”

  “I don’t know who you think has sent us. But you’re wrong.” Dan watched the guy’s eyes flick onto Mark. “We came here to help you!” Mark shook his head. Dan watched the fist slowly rise again…

  “Really now? Help, eh? Let’s see if this jogs your memory instead,” the man stuck a hand on Mark’s chest, forcing him back over the table, giving the man room so he could take aim. Dan saw the guy’s fist was barely clenched. Cripps, the metal man, was holding back. Maybe, saving up some worse punishment for later on. To build momentum for his confession. But poor Mark had taken as much as he should. Dan ripped his arms apart and the tape burst away from his left hand. He leapt up from his seat, knocking the table up with his knees, and swiped his free hand across the table top, reaching for Cripps. Cripps saw it coming too late. He was already trapped by his own movements, caught in his own play. Mark was in one of his hands, and the other was raised as a fist. With Cripps stuck, Dan smashed his punch through Cripps face, then leaned in with his right, throwing his whole body into it. The tape tore down all the way to the chair as his fist smashed through the guy’s jaw. There was a crunch – maybe the jaw, maybe a tooth – as his head was rocked sideways. The man started to drop. Dan knew the guy was out cold. The blow had been too good, too sweet. Cripps folded up in front them and dropped, as if the life had drained from him.

  “Cripps!” called Alma. She put her hands to her mouth and gasped. She suddenly looked more the damsel in distress than the warrior, but Dan wasn’t buying it. He watched her start backing towards the door as the man called Cripps splayed out across the dirty carpet.

  “Stay where you are,” said Dan.

  The woman’s dark eyes shone when she looked at him. She took another step back. The door was close b
ehind her.

  “The least you’ve got is some questions to answer,” said Dan.

  She turned for the door. Dan glanced at Mark, who wiped the blood from his nose and gave him a nod to say ‘go, don’t worry about me’. It was the permission he needed. As the woman went out of the door, Dan was already after her. He broke through the doorway and into the corridor, swiped a hand at her upper arm, seizing the tattoo of a black and silver coiled dragon, and held on tight. The woman raked her nails across his fingers. It stung, but he held fast.

  “Ow. Why don’t you just calm down a minute,” said Dan. He pulled her around to face him and looked her in the eye. He saw hate in the girl’s eyes, but more than a little fear too. It was palpable beneath the surface. He could almost feel the racing of her heart beneath her skin and bones..

  “I’m not scared of you,” she said.

  “Maybe not,” said Dan. “But you’re definitely scared of something.”

  Dan slackened his grip and let the woman take a moment to examine his gaze, his intentions.

  “Calm down, see. Whatever you’re expecting, we’re not it.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she took a breath. “Somebody else?” she said.

  “Yes. Somebody else. So taping me to the chair, letting your friend with the metal fetish punch my assistant in the face… that was all wrong.”

  “But there is nobody else in this,” she said. “Just them, and me…”

  “Well, things change,” said Dan. “You’ve got yourself into something very bad, haven’t you, Alma? Drugs, maybe? And my guess is that you’re in on it, aren’t you? You’re not some victim. You’re in it up to your neck.”

  The woman scrunched up her face. Whenever she showed her anger, her distinctive looks morphed into something unpleasant. When she was angry she looked a lot like a moody teenage boy.

  “I never said I was a victim, or in this mess because of drugs. What? You think I’m dealing or something?”

  “Looks like it to me. All that hidden cash… the private pill collection. What are they exactly? Something extra special, I bet.”

  “Piss off. I’m not telling you a thing.”

  “Wake up, princess. I’m here to help. If I wasn’t here to help, we wouldn’t even be talking right now, would we? Think about it. Your knight in shining ear studs just went down with one punch. So let me help you. If you really do have something to fear, you’d better open up about it now. Come back and sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

  He looked into her eyes, let the meaning sink in. When he was satisfied she had listened Dan turned towards the door. She had to want to talk, or else they were stuck at cross purposes.

  Dan tugged her arm, but gently now, letting her see there would be no threat of violence. Her arm stayed slack in his grasp and she followed. When they were inside the big dark room, Dan closed the door behind them. Alma stomped around him, folded her arms, and turned to face him.

  “Cripps said there was some trouble coming. He knew it,” she said.

  “Cripps is the guy taking a nap?” said Dan, nodding to the floor.

  Alma glanced at the fallen man and pursed her lips in apparent concern. She nodded.

  “That’s why he’s been watching the area, going out on recon. But neither of us guessed it would be anything like you two. Why did you bring the boy with you?”

  “Hey!” said Mark.

  “He’s one of our helpers.”

  “Helping you do what, exactly?”

  Dan shrugged. “Whatever needs doing.”

  Mark shook his head in the gloom.

  “What’s important here, is that if you’re expecting trouble, we’re not it. But if you come clean with us maybe we could help you deal with it.”

  “Deal with it? What, you and him? Don’t be stupid.”

  “Stupid?” said Dan. “Well, we got past your defences, didn’t we?”

  The woman glared at him momentarily then her face softened. A hint of curiosity showed in her dark eyes, and the twisted look to her mouth began to appear.

  “Whatever’s going on here, you need to start talking to us so we can help you.”

  “Talking? About what?”

  “About everything.”

  “No, no, no,” she said. “You first. If they didn’t send you then who did?”

  “That’s what I’m talking about! They? Who’s they?” said Dan

  The woman opened her mouth to speak, but she seemed to change her mind. She stayed silent.

  “Is that too much to ask?” said Dan. “Then how about we start with something very easy. How about we start with your name. Your name is Alma Poulter, right?”

  The woman stared at him in defiance.

  “My name is Angie.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Wrong answer. And don’t stall for Metal Face. If your friend Cripps wakes up before you answer, I’ll just have to put him back to sleep again. Does the tactic sound familiar?”

  The woman’s brow dipped over her eyes.

  “So, then Alma. What’s your name again?” said Dan.

  She looked at Mark across Dan’s shoulder. His nose was still bloody.

  “Alma. Yes. My name is Alma. So bloody what…?”

  “I don’t know. But we’ll find out, shall we?” said Dan.

  Nine

  “He’s got an army knife,” said Lauren. “The kind of thing Rambo has between his teeth in the movies. He bought that to use on me. If I wait any longer I’ll be risking my life. You see that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I see that,” said Eva.

  Another panicked meeting, another coffee shop with a clear view of the world outside. The latest appointment was in a Costa Coffee on the arterial road between Southend and Basildon. It was one Eva had used a few times before for client meetings because of the ease of getting on to the next job. But for Lauren to make the appointment, she had to tell another lie. And take on the risk of being followed. Eva watched Lauren as she looked out of the coffee shop window, her eyes flitting towards the cars as they pulled past, and at any new faces as they walked in through the front door.

  “Do you really think he’s followed you here?”

  “It’s so hard to tell,” she said. “He seemed to believe me. I said I needed to get out for a bit, but he’s suspicious and he knows I’m on edge. I said I needed some retail therapy. He told me to go and enjoy myself. It’s hard to know what he’s really thinking.”

  Lauren’s eyes were fixed on the glass.

  “Have you seen any sign of him out there?” said Eva.

  “Not yet.”

  “Then please, just assume he’s not here,” said Eva. “You need to get your mind off him for a while. For your own sake.”

  “No, it’s not safe for me to think like that. The knife, Eva. Who knows what else he’s got in store? He could have some guy following me around. He’s certainly paranoid enough, and he’s not short of money.”

  “But you’ve been watching him, tracking his communications. I think you’d know if there was anything else going on.”

  “How could I? He’s smart. I only found the knife last night. I can’t live like this much longer. He’s driving me insane. Please tell me that you’ve got some kind of plan -you’ve got to stop him before it’s too late.”

  Lauren’s eyes probed Eva, as if trying to drag an answer from her. But there was no good news to give her. It had only been hours since they’d last spoken, and the new Poulter case had interrupted both her time and thinking. Besides, Eva wondered if they was any real way to provide the solution Lauren was looking for. Eva paused, refusing to get sucked in.

  “You said you would get those emails for me. Have you done that?” said Eva.

  “No… I couldn’t,” she replied. “Jamie’s working from home again. He works on that laptop. He’d probably catch me in the act. And then what? I can take that risk, but not when he’s at home. Don’t worry. I’ll still get them for you.”

  Eva nodded. “What y
ou saw on those emails is the best kind of leverage we’ll ever have – the best defence you’ll ever have against him.”

  “Or it might be the thing that finally pushes him over the edge.”

  “If what you say is right, he’s pretty much teetering on the edge anyway.”

  “You’re right there,” said Lauren. “What good is building a case against a man like that? I doubt he’d wait for a court case. If he knew anything that was coming he’d just go ahead and kill me - just like he did with his wife.”

  Eva looked at Lauren. She had to reach past the woman’s crumbling exterior.

  “Lauren. We’re not building a court case. We’re building leverage, that’s all. Leverage to force him to do what we want. I’m your safety net, okay? You’re going to get me every shred of evidence you can, every fragment of proof on any affairs, any wrongdoing at work, all of his character flaws, any threats and violence against you – and you’re going to get those emails too. To turn the tables on a man like him, we have to be thorough and assemble an arsenal of all his wrongdoings. He’s a businessman, right? Imagine we’re building a business proposition. And the proposition will go something like this. Here is all the terrible, damning evidence we have against you, of every misdemeanour, every flaw, every detestable act. Now, either you let Lauren go, and give her back every asset and every penny she’s ever earned, or all this highly sensitive information goes into the public domain. Bang. It could be via a court case, or more likely, via the media. His reputation would go up in flames. His business would tank. Who needs the expense of a court case anyway?”

  Lauren’s eyes gleamed as she listened. She sat back in her seat and sipped her coffee while she took it all in.

  “Let me get this right. You – the straight-laced Eva Roberts… you’re actually suggesting that we blackmail him? You know you’re talking about extortion, right?”

  “Lauren… Blackmail happens when a criminal forces someone to give them something of value. That’s a criminal act. We’re only talking about taking back what’s yours, using the only language Jamie Blane understands.”