by Hatchett
“That’s enough talking,” Ayla said as she sidled up to Mamba. “You can catch up with Basir later. I haven’t seen you for more than a day and I need some loving.”
“OK, babe. Let me get a drink first,” Mamba replied.
“No, now,” Ayla insisted, and started pulling Mamba by the hand.
“OK, OK, ya win,” Mamba conceded as he turned back towards the rear of the pub.
Ahmed, Issy and Gina moved to one side to let them pass and Ayla looked over her shoulder to see Mamba looking in their direction as he was pulled along. “Don’t even fucking think about it,” Ayla warned. “I’m first!”
Mamba shrugged and allowed himself to be pulled towards the stairs.
Ahmed guided Issy and Gina towards some seats then adjusted their restraints so they had some freedom of movement but wouldn’t be able to get away or do anything rash.
Basir popped behind the bar and started taking drinks orders as the sound of a door slamming echoed through the ceiling and the first moans and screams started filtering through.
“Charming!” Issy muttered under her breath.
“Could be worse,” Gina replied quietly, “it could be you…or me.”
Issy shuddered at the thought. “I think I’d rather die.”
“Careful what you wish for.”
Ahmed came over with a G&T for Gina and a Coke for Issy in two plastic cups and set them down on the table. “Want anythin’ ta eat?”
“Yeah, but not crisps,” Gina replied.
Ahmed took off his rucksack, opened it and started taking out various food items.
“Ya got the stove?” he asked Basir, who produced one from below the counter and set it alight.
Ahmed grabbed a handful of items and took them over to the bar. He picked up his beer and took a long drink. “Hope ya like noodles,” he said as he wiped his mouth.
While Ahmed was cooking and talking to Basir, Issy and Gina had a few minutes to talk privately, but they needed to keep their voices low to avoid being overheard, despite the noises coming from upstairs.
“What do you think?” Gina asked.
“There’s nothing we can do for the moment. We need to keep waiting for an opening and, in the meantime, try and stay out of the clutches of Mamba.”
“Yeah. I’m relieved that Ayla has taken him upstairs. Hopefully she’ll wear him out.”
“Please God!” Issy pleaded. “She’s a funny one, that Ayla. I thought she seemed like a nice, but misguided young woman when we interviewed her, but whenever Mamba is around, she turns into a she-devil.”
“I think she takes after her father but hides it well. She’s a perfect fit for Mamba.”
“You could be right,” Issy agreed.
“What do think of Ahmed?” Gina asked.
“He’s a bit of a gentle giant,” Issy said, “The sun shines out of Mamba’s arse and he just does whatever Mamba tells him.”
“Yeah, I got that impression,” Gina agreed. “What do you think they’re going to do next? Where are we heading?”
“I have no idea but whatever it is, it’s unlikely to be good news.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Ahmed putting plastic dishes and plastic knives and forks in front of them.
“I see you’ve thought of everything,” Issy muttered sarcastically. “Thanks.”
“Yer welcome,” Ahmed replied.
“Any idea where we’re going or what Mamba’s got planned?”
Ahmed laughed. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’, Mamba never tells me anythin’.” He chuckled and shook his head and returned to Basir at the bar.
“Well, that was useful,” Gina remarked as she picked up her fork. There were more squeals and shouts from above as she took her first mouthful. “I’m not sure what’s worse. Those noises or these noodles!”
21
Day 17 – 08:00
The Oatsheaf, South Tottenham
As they had been getting ready to leave The Oatsheaf, Mamba pointed out that a group of six was going to look very suspicious if Heathrow managed to spot them, and that even three was pushing it. Therefore, he felt it best if they split up into three groups of two. He then went on to suggest that Ayla should go with Basir like before, and that Ahmed should take Issy.
Before he could finalise his chosen line up, Ayla interrupted and demanded that she and Issy go with Mamba, leaving Ahmed to go with Basir and Gina.
Mamba could tell straight away that Ayla was in a bad mood and that it wouldn’t be worth arguing the point, especially as they only had about a kilometre to go to reach their destination. He wondered absently what had wound her up.
Ayla had decided that she would do whatever it took to try and keep Gina away from Mamba. She’d overheard Mamba mention to Ahmed earlier that morning that ‘he wanted to take the Princess…figuratively and literally’, when he didn’t think Ayla was around. Then they’d both laughed like little boys with a secret and started whispering so she wasn’t able to catch what else they said. It didn’t really matter because she’d already heard more than enough and seen the way Mamba looked at both women, but especially the ‘Princess’. It was clear his interest in Ayla had waned, from his lukewarm greeting the day before to his lack of focus when they’d had sex the previous night. Despite her best efforts in that department, she could tell he was distracted and had other things on his mind...or other women. He’d muttered something about snakes when he climaxed, whatever that had meant, but if he’d called her ‘Princess’ at that particular point she’s have castrated him there and then.
So, to say that Ayla was not a happy bunny was an understatement. The way she was feeling, she’d happily scratch the Princess’s fucking eyes out and ruin her Barbie-doll looks with her knife. Fucking bitch.
After getting dirty and gagging the two prisoners, Mamba had let Ahmed, Basir and Gina lead off because Basir had organised the important meeting that was about to take place. Mamba watched them leave the pub, noting the clear blue sky with the odd cloud dotted around like a ball of cotton wool, and weak sunlight throwing large shadows due to the sun’s low position in the sky. Almost immediately the three of them crossed the road and headed North and it wasn’t long before they were out of sight.
Mamba checked his map one last time because he wasn’t totally sure about the roads in this part of London and joked that he might get a nosebleed if he went any further North. There wasn’t any laughter forthcoming from the two women, so Mamba settled for looking at his watch and checking the street to make sure Ahmed and the others weren’t being followed.
Ten minutes later and Mamba thought it was time to move out.
“Ready?” he asked but didn’t get any response, not that he expected any from the gagged Issy.
Ayla headed for the door, but Issy just stood still and grunted. Mamba removed her gag and she told him that she needed the toilet.
“Fer fuck’s sake Cobra, ya coulda gone hours ago,” he admonished her.
“I didn’t want to go before,” Issy replied.
“What did you say?” Ayla almost snarled as she retraced her steps.
Both Mamba and Issy looked at her in surprise and confusion.
“I said I didn’t want to go to the toilet earlier,” Issy reiterated.
“Not you! Him!”
Mamba looked completely baffled.
“What?” he asked.
“What did you say?” Ayla almost shouted.
“I dunno. Summat ‘bout she coulda gone ta the bog earlier.”
“No! What did you call her?” Ayla screamed.
Mamba thought about it. “Dunno,” he said honestly.
“You called her ‘Cobra’,” Ayla yelled accusingly.
Mamba didn’t realise he had but accepted he could have done.
“So? It’s a fuckin’ nickname,” he pointed out, still confused.
“The same fucking nickname you called me last night as you were shagging me!” Ayla shouted.
Issy started laughing and mu
ttered “priceless”.
“You can stop fucking laughing, bitch,” Ayla screamed, turning on Issy. “I’ll kill you and that other fucking whore you’re with!”
Ayla continued to approach Mamba and went to slap him across the face. He caught her hand and twisted it until Ayla was off-balance and fell to the floor. Mamba then kicked her hard in the ribs, his face a mask of pure rage.
“Dontcha ever fuckin’ try that again or I’ll beat the fuckin’ shit outta ya, bitch! That’s two times ya diss me this mornin’ ‘n I ain’t puttin’ up with it!”
Issy considered making use of the distraction but with her hands tied and Mamba obviously raging, it probably wasn’t the best idea. Then there was the realisation that even if she did manage to escape, Gina would still be their prisoner and liable to be on the receiving end of their anger at losing Issy. No, the girls had to stick together and either both of them or neither of them would escape.
“I’ve fuckin’ had enough of yer snide comments ‘n bitchin’!” Mamba continued, looking like he was about to lean over and give Ayla another whack.
Ayla was now crying and holding her chest, rolled up into the foetal position on the floor.
Issy had some sympathy for the girl; she’d been the one lying on the floor just like that many times in the past courtesy of her alcoholic father. And just like her younger self, Ayla was way out of her depth with a thug like Mamba. It was with some relief that it just re-enforced her view that she was nothing like him. She went over and helped Ayla onto one of the bench seats as Mamba took out the rest of his anger on a nearby table and a couple of chairs.
Once Mamba had calmed down a bit and Ayla’s crying had abated into the odd sniff, Issy headed for the toilet.
“Don’t ya fuckin’ dare try anythin’ or I’ll hunt ya down ‘n kill ya. I’ll also hurt the Princess real bad.”
“I won’t,” Issy replied over her shoulder, although she was hoping to find something which she might use later on.
Issy came back five minutes later to see that neither Mamba nor Ayla had moved, and Mamba was telling Ayla how it was going to be ‘from now on’. Issy could tell that Ayla’s perfect world wasn’t quite as perfect as she thought it was just a few minutes earlier.
“Let’s go,” Mamba ordered, and Ayla quickly and silently rose from her seat like a scolded cat.
Mamba then retied Issy’s gag and led the way to the door. After checking the road was clear, he opened the door and slid outside with Issy and Ayla following.
Nobody said a word as Mamba followed the other group’s footsteps by crossing the road and heading North for fifty metres before turning left onto the Town Hall Approach Road. Mamba wondered who the fuck came up with such a shite name for a road. Obviously, someone without an ounce of creativity, that was for sure.
At Philip Lane they turned left into a residential area, then after a short walk took a right onto Dongolo Road. Mamba could see their destination directly ahead in the distance; a building in the shape of a stepped pyramid, sticking up high above all surrounding houses like a misplaced Mayan tourist attraction.
At the end of Dongolo Road, they needed to take a short detour along The Avenue, another brilliantly inspired name for a road, then on into Gloucester Road and the edge of the Broadwater Farm Estate. Mamba thought it had the ring of some sort of asylum and hoped to God that wasn’t the case. The last thing he needed was having to deal with a bunch of nutters.
The road where Gloucester Road met Freedom Road was blocked off by a mishmash of cars and vans, and the number of zombies wandering around seemed to increase before disappearing altogether. When Mamba was ten yards from the barrier he could see why; the ground was littered with the remnants of dead zombies, obviously the ones that had got a bit too close.
The barrier was manned by what looked like seven well-armed Turks. Behind them were various buildings and acres of clear space with not a single zombie in sight. There were even children running around, some playing on equipment in a small play area to the right-hand side and to the left was what looked like a huge empty park, save for a few people wandering around or walking their dogs. Looking at the scene it was as if the zombie virus had never happened and everything was back to normal. It was all a bit surreal.
“The Magnificent Seven,” Mamba acknowledged the guards at the barrier with a wide smile as he tramped over the dead zombies towards them.
“We’d heard you were a prick,” one of the Turks replied.
The smile on Mamba’s face disappeared in an instant and he was sorely tempted to introduce the guy to his fist, but as he was in new territory, he thought it best to get the lie of the land first. Retribution could wait, he had a long memory.
“Oh yeah?” Mamba sneered, “‘n who exactly tol’ ya that?”
The Turk ignored the question, looked Ayla and Issy up and down slowly and unconsciously licked his lips then turned back to Mamba. “Climb over and follow me,” he ordered.
The three of them moved forward and were helped over the barrier. Then they followed the Turk who had spoken, along the rest of Gloucester Road, with a couple more Turks filling in behind them.
There were various blocks of apartments to their left and ahead. There was no doubt there were other buildings hiding behind them. The pyramid building was to their right and Mamba noticed that it was effectively suspended on top of numerous stilts, with some of the ground floor beneath the building being used as a car park.
The building itself was around fifty metres square, made from concrete and rose up nine stories. It provided apartment and penthouse apartment accommodation for hundreds, if not thousands of people.
All of the apartments facing outwards had their own large outdoor terraces and balconies, some of which had vine-like plants draping over the edges to give the building a ‘jungle’ feel. These terraces also provided ideal observation posts covering all points of the compass, so it was highly unlikely anyone or anything would be able to approach without being spotted by the numerous guards.
Mamba could see several gun barrels poking over the balconies, silhouetted against the bright blue sky behind. A couple were pointed in their general direction, just to be on the safe side. News of Mamba had obviously filtered through the population and as they turned the corner into Willan Road there were people hanging out of windows to watch the new arrivals. After twenty-five metres they reached a large glass atrium and passed two more guards as they entered the building.
The interior was as impressive as the outside, with marble flooring and a double height glass ceiling with a glass hallway leading off it. They liked their glass around here. Their guide headed for the hallway, and as they entered, Mamba could see that his initial impression of a Pyramid wasn’t strictly right. The inside walls rose up from the square base in steps, like a mirror of the outside walls. There were six floors which ended with what looked like a flat roof. The apartments on the inside wall were the same as those on the outside, with large terraces and balconies with more plant life spewing over the edge, all open to the air. These inside apartments had a view of an elaborate garden area on the ground below them, with paths meandering around flowerbeds, trees, ornaments, seats and fountains. The only break in their view would be this hall which led to the lifts at the centre of the construction. Mamba looked up and could see that it was mainly a lift shaft which went up towards a smaller pyramid of four floors from level six to level nine. Indeed, there were four suspended walkways leading from the centre to the outside walls on level six. Mamba could now see that it wasn’t strictly a pyramid but looked like one from a distance; the centre part had been designed to follow the lines of the outer walls, so in effect, it was an optical illusion.
They were led towards two lifts with guards on either side of the doors and entered the one on the left. Their guide used a key before pressing a button for the Penthouse. The doors closed smoothly and there was a low hum as the gears started moving and the lift rose upwards. All that was missing was some muza
k.
The doors pinged open when they reached the top floor and they found themselves in a small lobby area with a set of double doors to each side, a couple more guards and a couple of pretty women sitting behind a desk. The glass wall behind the women was sloping towards the new arrivals and continued up over their heads towards the top of the pyramid. Mamba felt a little disorientated at first, but the view was spectacular; he could see for miles towards the North.
“Please remove your rucksacks and any weapons,” the guide informed them.
Mamba looked at him, “Yer havin’ a laugh, Bro!”
“Do I look like I’m laughing?” said the stony-faced guide. “Your call. You can do as you’re told, or we turn around and go back.”
Mamba took off his rucksack and started removing knives and pistols from various pockets and placing them in the bag. “They betta not go missin’,” Mamba warned.
“You’ll get them back,” the guide assured him.
Ayla removed her rucksack and weapons and explained that Issy didn’t have anything on her. One of the guards told Issy to follow him and they re-entered the lift.
Once Mamba and Ayla had been frisked, one of the women rose from her seat behind the desk and moved across to the set of double-doors on their right, which she opened with a flourish and beckoned them forwards. She said something in Turkish to someone in the room then retreated back behind her desk. Their guide led them into a large room with floor to ceiling glass windows sloping upwards towards the centre, and although the views from the lobby area had been spectacular, this was on another level entirely. Mamba could see for miles towards the East and the South, and he was sure if he moved across the floor space, he would also be able to see to the West. Mamba could even see the Tottenham Hotspur stadium in the distance, although watching any football might be a little difficult without a decent set of binoculars. Not that there was any football to watch anymore, of course. He briefly wondered what had happened to all the professional footballers, then dismissed the thought as soon as it had entered his head. Who cared? It was irrelevant. He couldn’t stand Spurs in any case.
