by Hatchett
The floor space was a combination of marble tiles, with expensive rugs dotted around, and areas with shagpile carpet. There were large leather sofas and occasional tables all over the room, a telescope perched in the South Eastern corner and a massive flat screen TV on the wall to his right which he assumed was the wall adjoining the lifts. He was still staring at the décor, completely oblivious to the room’s occupants when he heard, “Ah, you must be Mamba. Welcome. Basir has told me so much about you.”
Mamba turned to find a slim, tall, handsome man with short black wavy hair, moustache and dark eyes. He looked like the Turkish version of Omar Sharif in an expensive tailored black suit which must have come from one of Savile Row’s finest, a gleaming white shirt, diamond cufflinks and shiny black brogues on his feet.
Mamba was surprised by the man’s appearance. He looked like some billionaire Saudi and all that was missing was the tea towel on his head.
“I am Volkan,” he said as he walked towards Mamba with his hand outstretched.
Mamba shook the man’s hand with a hint of suspicion across his face.
“Yer Volkan?” Mamba asked, clearly not believing what he was seeing.
“I can see by the look on your face that you’re surprised,” Volkan remarked, “but I can confirm it is me. What were you expecting? Sully’s twin?”
Mamba thought about it. How could this rich, elegant man have any connection to Sully, never mind be his cousin.
Volkan walked past Mamba towards Ayla, “and you must be my niece, Ayla.” He gave her a warm hug, only partially reciprocated by Ayla who was as surprised as Mamba by their surroundings and the man in front of her.
Mamba had gathered his thoughts. “So, you’re Sully’s cousin?” he asked.
Volkan turned to face Mamba. “No, he was my oldest brother. As you like to refer to everyone as ‘bro’, we refer to each other as ‘cousin’.”
Mamba’s mind was whirling around, wondering how Volkan would react to the news of Sully’s death. He had so many questions he didn’t know where to start. Volkan could almost see these thoughts being played out on Mamba’s face and decided to put him at ease.
“Basir has already told me about Sully’s demise. I hope the bastard suffered.”
“You didn’t like him?” Mamba asked, confused.
“Did you?” Volkan replied. “No, Sully and I haven’t spoken or seen each other for over thirty years. We’ve never got on, even when we were young boys being beaten side by side by our father. He had his patch and I had mine. He enjoyed wallowing in the gutter and as you can see…” he waved his arm around the room, “I prefer the finer things in life.”
“So, you’ve never met Ayla and her siblings before?” Mamba asked.
“Not Ayla,” Volkan confirmed. “I’ve met some of Sully’s children over the years, usually by accident or when we’ve been fighting. Anyway, where are my manners? Please come and take a seat. Would you like a drink, something to eat?”
Mamba followed and noticed Ahmed and Basir for the first time, both sitting on one of the leather sofas. He sat himself down next to Ahmed and saw that he was drinking a beer. “Bit early fer that,” he whispered.
Ayla sat down next to him.
“So, what will it be?” Volkan asked as he took a seat in a large leather chair opposite them all and picked up his own drink from a low table between them.
“A beer’ll do,” Mamba responded, and got a nudge in his ribs from Ahmed for his trouble and heard a whispered ‘bit early fer that’.
“And one for me,” Ayla agreed.
Volkan clapped his hands and a pretty young woman appeared and Volkan ordered the drinks and for some food to be delivered. It seemed that Volkan and Sully weren’t too dissimilar in their choice of servants after all. Mamba wondered if the young woman was Volkan’s daughter as he stared at her. Keep it in the family and all that.
Volkan saw Mamba looking at the woman. “I heard you and Ayla were an item?” he suggested.
“Bit of fun,” Mamba responded, and Ayla blushed with embarrassment, but didn’t say anything. “Where ya taken our prisoners?”
“Don’t worry, somewhere safe,” Volkan assured him. “You can have access anytime you want,” he said with a small smile.
“Where’s the res’ of our group?” Mamba asked, looking around at the occupants of the room. Other than himself, Ahmed, Basir and Ayla, everyone else looked like one of Volkan’s bodyguards and there were nine or ten of them dotted around, all in dark suits which concealed handguns, unless you knew what to look for.
“They’re around somewhere,” Volkan replied disinterestedly. “We have a large secure area so people can go where they want and do what they want, as long as it doesn’t break my rule.”
Mamba nodded and asked, “And what rule is that?”
“One simple rule; don’t piss me off,” Volkan replied, matter of factly.
“Or else?” Mamba pushed.
“I can see everything I’ve heard about you, Mamba, is looking like it’s true. Let me show you something.”
Volkan rose from his seat and walked towards the Southern window. Mamba got up and followed. As they approached the glass wall Mamba could see that there was something happening on the roof of the outer rim a few floors below.
“Use the telescope if you want a better look,” Volkan encouraged him.
“I can see,” Mamba replied.
There were eight large crucifixes lined up on the roof and were surrounded by a large and strong looking metal cage. The concrete floor beneath the crucifixes was black all over and Mamba assumed it was dirt. Five of the crucifixes were currently occupied; there were people attached to them, their feet about a metre off the ground.
Mamba changed his mind and grabbed the telescope and adjusted the focus until he could see the figures more clearly.
The first was a young man, possibly in his teens, shouting and screaming in their direction, although they could hear nothing from this distance and the through the thick glass. The next two were youngish women, both with their heads on their chests as if they were asleep. The next was an older man with wild grey hair and lacerations all over his body. He too had his head resting on his chest. The final figure used to be a middle-aged man but was now a zombie, continuously moving and straining against its bonds, teeth snapping together.
All the figures were naked, and all had been nailed to the wooden crucifixes.
“We’ve timed it well,” Volkan said, “I love this bit.”
Mamba looked at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about.
“Watch the zombie,” Volkan suggested, “Especially the hands and feet.”
Mamba zoomed in, and to begin with couldn’t understand what the fuck Volkan was going on about. Then he spotted the zombie’s hands and the picture began to clear.
The zombie managed to wrench its right hand free of the horizontal support, pulling its hand off the nail which had secured it. There was very little blood as this had stopped circulating some time ago and had settled in the zombie’s legs, which were now an angry purplish colour.
The zombie tried to reach the man on the cross next to it, but the man was just out of reach. The zombie strained to reach the man and after a few seconds its left hand was torn free and there was nothing to keep the zombie upright. The zombie fell forwards, pulled towards the ground by gravity, but with its nailed feet straining to keep it upright. Gravity and momentum won out and as the zombie’s fall turned into a dive its feet were ripped away from the nails in a geyser of blood.
The zombie landed headfirst on the ground and it was clear that it had broken its neck.
“Ten out of ten fer the dive,” Mamba remarked and heard Volkan chuckle.
The zombie climbed to its feet with its head lolling on its shoulder and headed for the man on the next cross. The noise of the skin ripping and the zombie hitting the floor had woken the man up and he started screaming and thrashing as the zombie approached.
“Any
windows we can open?” Mamba asked, still staring intently through the telescope, “we’re missin’ the soundtrack.”
Volkan laughed again. “No, but it’s a very good point. I’ll have to put some microphones down there and put a couple of speakers up here.”
Mamba continued to watch as the zombie reached the man and started eating his legs.
“We’ll soon have five zombies; all will eventually be covered in petrol and set alight,” Volkan explained. “Ashes to ashes and all that, but good fun while it lasts. I sometimes allow my men to enter the cage for some combat training. You know, to practice with their knives, sometimes before the prisoners even turn.”
“What happens if they fail?” Mamba asked.
“Then they get locked in and suffer the same fate.”
Mamba stood away from the telescope with newfound respect for the man in front of him. “My kind of man,” he stated, nodding his head.
Volkan smiled. “From what I’d heard about you, I thought you might like it. Shall we re-join the others?”
Volkan started to walk off, Mamba falling into step by his side.
“By the way,” Volkan said, “what happened to Hakan?”
“Had an accident,” Mamba replied without missing a beat.
“Thought so,” Volkan replied. “Couldn’t stand that fat fuck either.”
“What did they do?” Mamba enquired.
“Pissed me off,” Volkan replied.
“Remind me not ta piss ya off,” Mamba suggested with a laugh.
22
Day 17 – 09:45
Broadwater Farm Estate, Tottenham
Mamba was reclining in the nicely padded leather sofa with a fresh beer on the table in front of him, and Volkan sitting in his chair opposite. The only other people in the room were half a dozen bodyguards, all standing out of earshot with their backs against the glass walls. Ahmed, Basir and Ayla were currently being taken on a tour of the estate by the other guards while the two men talked.
After the earlier crucifix display, Mamba and the others had finished their drinks over some general chit-chat and then had been shown to their own rooms on the floor below by some of Volkan’s girls. On the way down, Mamba had suggested that Ayla might want to join him for a shower, but she’d ignored him and gone straight to her own room without a word, so Mamba had tried it on with the girl escorting him, who had just giggled and disappeared rather quickly.
The room he’d been given was like being in a seven-star hotel, if there was such a thing; it had plush carpet and the same floor to ceiling views towards the South. He could see all the famous London landmarks, but Mamba suspected that he had been given this room as it gave him a perfect view of the crucifixes, now only a couple of floors below.
When Mamba came out of the opulently tiled walk-in shower, he’d found fresh and warm fluffy towels on a wall rail and a selection of aftershaves by the double sinks. When he left the en-suite he found clothes waiting for him on the large king-size bed, including a new pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and a long-sleeved shirt to go over it. They had also supplied new underwear, socks and a pair of white high-top Nike trainers. Everything fitted perfectly and Mamba wondered where they’d gotten their sizes from. However, he felt clean and invigorated for the first time in days.
They’d also left his rucksack on the floor by the bed and Mamba checked it over meticulously before he was satisfied that nothing had been added or taken.
He’d then taken a stroll down the corridor to Ayla’s room. He didn’t bother knocking but tried the handle and found to his delight that the door was unlocked. Stupid girl! He’d eased inside the room and saw that it was similar to his own. He heard the shower running in the en-suite and saw another set of fresh clothes on the bed waiting for Ayla to emerge. Mamba moved next to the en-suite door and waited.
Eventually the shower stopped, and he’d heard Ayla rubbing herself dry before a squeaking sound as she wiped condensation from a mirror. Then he’d heard a couple of squirts of some perfume and then she was heading his way, her feet slapping on the tiled floor.
The door opened with a cloud of steam and Mamba didn’t wait for Ayla to spot him. He’d grabbed her towel and tugged it off as she jumped in shock and turned towards him ready to fight, a scream building in her throat. When she saw who it was the scream died, and instead, her fear and shock turned to anger, and she’d shouted at him to give her back the towel and ‘fuck off’. Mamba wasn’t taking no for an answer as he’d stepped forward, picked her up and carried her kicking and screaming towards the bed.
She’d still been shouting abuse when he forced her face down onto the bed and knelt on top of her to prevent her moving. She’d continued to buck and curse as he unbuckled his belt and lowered his zip, but all fight went out of her the moment he slid down her body and entered her.
“Ya know ya love me,” he’d whispered in her ear as he rested his weight on his left arm and thrust inside her. She’d raised herself up a little and this allowed Mamba to slip his right hand under her body to grope her right breast.
“Bastard!” she’d replied, but there were the first signs of a grin on her face.
As their breathing got heavier, she started shouting “harder!” and Mamba did as he was told. He smiled at the memory.
“Something funny?” Volkan asked, bringing Mamba out of his reverie.
“Uh? Ah, no, jus’ dreamin’,” Mamba explained.
“Must’ve been a good dream,” Volkan suggested.
“Not bad,” Mamba acknowledged, then thought about Cobra and the Princess and added, “but could’ve bin betta.”
“Well, enough dreaming,” Volkan said. “It’s time we turned to business. So, tell me what you have in mind.”
23
Day 17 – 09:45
Broadwater Farm Estate, Tottenham
Issy and Gina had been escorted separately upon their arrival to a twin room a couple of floors below the penthouse and had their restraints removed. The room backed onto the lift shaft so there were no windows or natural light, although it was still as opulent as the rooms on the floor above. The position of the room meant that there was only one way in and out, and that was guarded by two burly armed Turks standing just outside the door.
They had locked the door from the inside just in case Mamba decided to visit, then both women had taken turns to shower and change into the new clothes that had been provided for them. They were pleased to get out of the crap Mamba had dressed them in, but whilst the new white t-shirts and hoodies were much better quality and warmer, they had been provided with tight-ish skirts which hardly reached their knees. Definitely not the sort of clothing for walking around in, and the fact that they hadn’t been provided with any underwear didn’t help. They considered whether to put the cropped jeans back on, but they felt clean and didn’t want to soil themselves again so soon. Perhaps they would be staying in the pyramid, although the two pairs of trainers sitting on the floor suggested that they might not. With some reluctance, they pulled on the skirts.
“I don’t think there’s much chance of escape,” Gina muttered. “We’d have to deal with the two guards outside the door, take the lift to the ground assuming we don’t need a key to operate it, get past another half dozen armed guards in the atrium, run about a kilometre along two roads to the barrier, deal with another half dozen armed guards, then get dirty, then lose ourselves in the zombie horde. All without any weapons or being seen.”
“We could take the weapons from the two guards outside the door,” Issy suggested.
“You might be able to do unarmed combat, but I can’t,” Gina pointed out, “and that’s assuming you could take both the gorillas out at the same time without one of them shooting you.”
“Bruce Willis could do it. Or Arnie or Sylvester Stallone or Jason Statham. Not sure about Tom Cruise though.”
“Well, why don’t you give one of them a ring,” Gina suggested with a laugh.
“Shit! I’ve lost my phone.”
They both lay back on their beds, staring at the ceiling.
“Seriously, what are we going to do?” Gina asked. “It’s only a matter of time before Mamba comes looking for us.”
Issy considered the question in silence for a few minutes.
“I think we’ve just got to hope the leader here, whoever he is, can control Mamba. Hopefully he will want to use us for negotiating with Jack, and if that’s the case, I doubt they’ll touch us. Maybe that’s why they gave us this room rather than beat the shit out of us and put us in a shitty cell.”
“I hope your right,” Gina replied. “I bet Andy and Travis are going mad.”
“I bet they all are. Those two have a vested interest in getting us back,” Issy confirmed with a smile.
“I’m just a bit concerned that they may lose interest if we come back as damaged goods,” Gina remarked.
“If that’s the way they feel, then they can fuck right off,” Issy replied, with vehemence in her voice. “We’ll stick together, sister, no matter what.”
Gina smiled. “How have we come to this? Just a couple of weeks ago life went on as normal and now we’re in a...I don’t even know what we’re in.”
“But you wouldn’t have met Travis,” Issy pointed out.
“True,” Gina replied.
“There’s nothing we can do for now anyway,” Issy pointed out, “so we continue to watch and wait.”
24
Day 17 – 10:00
Heathrow Terminal 3, Security Command Centre
Jack stared without focus at the jumbo screen opposite, thinking about Issy and Gina, wondering where they were and if they were alright.
They’d had five helicopters circling the area around the Dalston Estate since sun up and there were also eight teams searching on the ground, but so far there had been no leads. Bear was in charge of the team searching the whole estate while Irish was rebuilding and securing the perimeter for the civilians.
“Are you OK?” Sarah asked from the seat next to him. The Major had wanted to lead his own team, which made sense, so Sarah was with Jack for support. She placed a hand over his and looked at him with concern.
