Justyna nodded. ‘His father taught him the family business and now Stefan is in charge.’
Caelan had heard enough. ‘You’re coming with us.’ She looked at Lucy. ‘Let’s go.’
Lucy held out the keys. ‘I still don’t know who you are. Why should we trust you?’
‘Because you have to. I’ll explain on the way. Come on, please. Time to go.’
She pulled Justyna to her feet, was ready to grab Lucy’s hand too and drag her along with them if she had to. She needed to get them both to Penrith, and quickly.
‘Hang on a minute.’
Caelan froze. The voice came from behind them. It was smug, male, and she recognised it immediately.
Johnny.
Stefan Harris’s right-hand man had been in the building all the time. Why hadn’t Justyna said so? But as she glanced at the other woman’s face, she knew the answer. Justyna was stunned, terrified. She hadn’t known.
Caelan turned. Immediately she knew they were in trouble. By his side, Johnny held a gun. Now he raised it, gestured at Caelan and nodded towards the door.
‘All of you, throw your mobile phones on the floor. Now.’ They did as they were told. Johnny kicked the phones under the desk, out of sight. He looked at Caelan. ‘You’ve got the keys. Let’s go.’
Slowly Caelan moved her feet and raised her arms slightly, making herself bigger, putting her body between Johnny and Justyna. Lucy was still standing behind the desk, shifting restlessly, and Caelan turned so Johnny wouldn’t have a clear shot at her either. She felt no fear, just anger at herself for not checking the building, and for not leaving sooner. They could have heard Justyna’s story in the car. She met Johnny’s eyes.
‘Where?’
‘To see the boss. He’s busy tonight, but I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you all, especially,’ he gave Justyna a cold smile, ‘his dear mother.’
Caelan shook her head. ‘Let them go, and I’ll do whatever you say.’
He gave her a bored stare. ‘Start walking, or the ginger one gets a bullet in the knee, then I’ll work my way up.’
Caelan squeezed Justyna’s hand and then released it. Lucy was staring at Johnny, panic clear on her face.
‘Follow me,’ Caelan told her. ‘Trust me. It’ll be okay.’
Behind them, Johnny chuckled. ‘That’s what I like to see, blind optimism. Come on, move.’
He pushed past them, grabbing Justyna as he went and standing by the door with the gun at her temple. He nodded at Caelan. ‘You can drive, Ginger sits in the passenger seat. I’m in the back with Mrs Harris here, and you go where I tell you. The second you take a wrong turn, try and draw attention to us or do anything other than exactly what I tell you, I’ll shoot her. You understand me?’
‘Yes.’ Caelan knew that for the moment she had to do as she was told. She should never have allowed this situation to happen, but now she had to think, react, plan. Beside her, Lucy looked shell-shocked, her face white, her breathing too fast. Caelan squeezed her arm.
‘You’re okay,’ she said.
Johnny laughed. ‘Yeah, everything’s great, sweetheart. Now get outside.’
He held Justyna close as they went through the door. ‘You two, don’t move. You,’ he dug the gun into Justyna’s ribs, ‘should have the key. Lock the door and then give the key to me.’
She nodded, fumbling in her jeans pocket.
‘Hurry up,’ Johnny hissed. Caelan watched, hoping for an opportunity to attack him, but he kept Justyna too close and she dared not take the risk.
Justyna locked the door and held out the key in a trembling hand. Johnny smiled, his cheek pressed against hers as he held her in front of him. To an onlooker it would look as though he was hugging her, not holding her prisoner.
‘Put it in my jacket pocket,’ he said. She did as she was told and he forced her to turn towards the taxi. ‘Get in, all of you, and remember: do as you’re told.’
Caelan opened the passenger door for Lucy and ushered her inside. Lucy didn’t resist, pulling the seat belt over her chest, stunned and wide-eyed, her movements mechanical. Caelan scrambled around to the driver’s side, hoping to see a police car, Ewan, Penrith, anyone who could help them. No such luck. There was no one in sight, not a pedestrian, not a vehicle.
She got in and started the engine. Johnny pushed Justyna into the back seat and climbed in beside her.
‘Now drive,’ he said.
32
It was an industrial estate, somewhere past Heathrow Airport. The unit Johnny directed Caelan to was tucked out of the way, a household recycling centre on one side, a scrapyard on the other. Both closed, both in darkness.
‘Drive around the back,’ Johnny said. ‘There’s a car park.’
Caelan did as she was told, following the narrow tarmac road along the side of the building. There were no signs, nothing to indicate what sort of business went on here. She was sure they were about to find out.
She turned the corner into the car park, surprised to see so many cars there. It was close to midnight, wintry rain and freezing gusts tugging at their clothes and numbing their faces as they got out of the car. Lucy stumbled as she put her feet on the ground. Caelan went to help her, and immediately Johnny turned the gun on them, keeping hold of Justyna with his other hand.
‘What are you doing? I told you, behave yourselves.’
‘She tripped,’ Caelan said. ‘It happens.’
He grinned, waving them forward with the gun. ‘When you’re shit scared, yeah.’
Caelan didn’t reply, keeping an arm around Lucy’s trembling shoulders. She wanted to ask her where she’d been, what had happened. Now, though, they needed to concentrate on staying alive. The estate was silent, deserted. No witnesses.
Johnny led them over to a black double door and rapped on it with the gun. Immediately it opened, and he hauled Justyna inside. ‘Come on,’ he barked over his shoulder.
Caelan kept hold of Lucy, and they stepped through the door into a corridor. She looked around, wanting to commit every detail to memory. If she got out of here, she would need to be able to describe it. The floor was concrete, the walls white. She could hear a man’s voice. He was talking quickly, his voice amplified somehow, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. To their left was a metal staircase with a chain across it to discourage anyone from going up or coming down, though it wasn’t much of an obstacle. In front of them, about five metres away, was another black door. A man stood beside it, his face obscured by a dark scarf and a knitted hat pulled low over his brow. He wore black trousers and boots, a black jacket, no labels or designs, nothing to help anyone if they were asked to describe him. He stood with his back straight, chin up. Caelan guessed it was Chris, Harris’s other hired muscle, but she couldn’t be sure. Johnny nodded to him, but neither man spoke as he marched them all through the door.
Beyond was a huge room with a stage at one end. Here, the voice they had heard was loud and clear, and Caelan realised immediately what was happening. She felt light-headed, nauseous, the floor seeming to rise and fall beneath her feet. She felt Lucy go rigid beside her as Johnny stopped, allowing them to see what was happening. He was grinning, highly amused by their reactions. Justyna’s knees sagged and he hauled her upright, holding her tightly so she was forced to watch.
It was an auction.
In front of them were rows of chairs, most of them occupied. On the stage, a middle-aged man, sweating and smiling, stood at a podium. He was plump, wearing tiny glasses, and kept stroking his straggly moustache. To his right, a young woman stood blinking at the crowd. She was naked except for a pair of red high-heeled shoes and an elaborate pink feather headdress bearing the number 12. Her arms were by her sides, her eyes fixed on a point at the back of the room.
Caelan felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach. Pink feathers. Penrith had told her the three young people they had found dead had had pink feathers or fluff in their hair. They had been here, on this stage, or at least in the
building, before they were executed. What had they done? Protested? Tried to escape? She stared around her, numb and disbelieving. This was what Stefan Harris was doing. This was why he wanted to buy Reuben Nash’s club. He’d told her he had plans for it, and this was what he had meant – this human cattle sale.
‘…Ladies and gentlemen, beautiful Lot Twelve. To recap, she’s twenty-one, and free from all STDs. As you can see, she has blonde hair, blue eyes, a full set of perfect white teeth.’ He paused, smiling. ‘Willing to work hard and play hard, if you know what I mean.’ He stopped again as though waiting for laughter, though none came. The atmosphere was charged, a room full of people smacking their lips, waiting to feast. Caelan drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She hadn’t been able to keep her arm around Lucy, but now she reached again for her hand. Lucy’s grip was tight, almost painful. Beside them, Justyna looked ready to collapse.
‘We’ll start the bidding at five thousand pounds,’ the auctioneer said. Immediately, hands went up and the bids rose swiftly. ‘Ten thousand, eleven, twelve, thirteen, thank you, sir.’ He paused and wiped his brow. On the floor at the front of the stage someone waved to the young woman who was being sold up there. Blankly she looked down, and Caelan saw who was speaking to her.
Jolene Townsend.
Caelan’s guts lurched and rolled as Lot 12 lifted her head and managed a smile. Jolene must have told her to look as though she was enjoying herself. The rage Caelan had felt inside since Justyna had shared her story began to build. She would close this place down, and every one of these filthy bastards with their hands in the air would go down too. How, she didn’t know, but she would do it.
‘Do I hear fifteen thousand?’ the auctioneer was saying. Johnny jerked his head.
‘Follow me.’
Caelan kept hold of Lucy’s hand, her eyes searching for an opportunity, anything she could grab to use as a weapon. She would be gambling with Justyna’s life, probably with her own and Lucy’s too. Would that save these people who were being sold like antique furniture or paintings? No. She had to be patient.
Johnny led them down the side of the room, to a door next to the stage. Lucy gripped Caelan’s hand even tighter as they saw the naked young woman glance at them. Her chin trembled, and she blinked rapidly. Caelan wanted to hurl herself onto the stage, to grab her, cover her and get her out of here. She looked at the faces of the people in the crowd – mostly men, but there were women present too – and hated every one of them. She didn’t have time to dwell on how she felt about their actions – this reducing of fellow humans to pieces of meat, play things, property. That would come, if she escaped this place.
Through the door, and this room was even worse than the last. There were people inside, but there was also complete silence. Johnny stood back, pushing Justyna, Caelan and Lucy forward. At first, all Caelan could see was eyes. Twenty people sat on the floor, each wearing a white robe and with a pile of clothes beside them. Caelan knew there were twenty, because their headdresses ranged from number 13 to number 32. Number 15 wept silently, her mascara running, shadowing her blue eyes. Number 22 drummed her fingers on her thighs, over and over. Number 29 was male. He sat with his head bowed, hairy legs straight out in front of him. Beside him, number 30 closed her eyes and pressed her hands together. Caelan guessed she was praying and hoped she would find some comfort in it.
There was sudden pressure at her back, and she knew without looking that Johnny held the gun there.
‘Something to show you,’ he whispered. Caelan didn’t answer, and he grabbed her arm, twisting it painfully. As their hands were wrenched apart, Lucy moaned, and Justyna was immediately by her side.
Johnny led her back to the stairs. The chain had been removed and he marched her up them. There was a small landing, and two doors. He pointed.
‘Behind that one… Go on, open it.’
Caelan didn’t know if they were alone up here, but he still had the gun and she had seen nothing she could use as a weapon. No handy length of pipe or wood, not even a pen. He waved the gun at her.
‘I said open it.’
If he was expecting her to be cowed, he was going to be disappointed. She stared at him for a long moment, then strode towards the door. Her hand trembled, but he wouldn’t be able to see it. Her throat was choked, the anger, disgust and despair at what people were capable of doing to each other seeming to rise from her stomach to suffocate her. Whatever was on the other side of this door couldn’t be any worse than what she had seen downstairs.
Except it was.
Sitting back to back, their hands behind them, handcuffed together, were Ryan Glennister and Tom Haslam. They too were naked, their heads lolling but the numbers on their headdresses still visible – 33 and 34.
‘We gave them the choice – they could be killed or sold,’ Johnny said conversationally. ‘They chose to be sold, though I’ve no idea why. Who’s going to want a scrawny druggie and a mentally ill stalker?’ He shoved Glennister’s leg with the toe of his boot. ‘I doubt they’ll get any bids, and then what are we going to do with them?’
Caelan didn’t answer, wanting to drive her fist into his face. He stepped closer, pinning her against the wall, the gun under her chin. Lazily he drew it across her throat, pressed it against her temple. ‘What would you choose?’ he whispered. Behind them, Caelan heard laughter. She stared into his eyes.
‘Death.’
Johnny laughed. ‘I thought you might. And we’d make it quick.’
‘A bullet in the back of the head, and it’s goodnight,’ a different voice said.
Recognising it instantly, Caelan stiffened.
Reuben Nash. He stood, arms folded, a mocking grin on his face. What was he doing here? Where was Harris?
Beside him was another man. He was as tall as Nash, wearing a dark suit and a bored expression. Small dark eyes skimmed Caelan’s body, assessing her like a farmer at a livestock market. There was nothing sexual about the way he studied her – he might have been looking at a painting, or a car. He said nothing.
Nash sauntered towards her, hands in pockets, looking pleased with himself. ‘So here you are. Now you know most of my secrets, but I’m told I don’t know any of yours.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on, darling.’
Caelan sneered at him. ‘Make me.’
The other man said, ‘Shut your mouth.’ He spoke quietly, turning away as though there could be no doubt she would do as he said. His accent was strong, though Caelan couldn’t place it. She wondered whether he could be Albanian, like the men Mulligan had employed, or Polish, like Justyna. Nash shot him an anxious glance. This man was clearly involved in the horrible scheme; maybe he was even the one in charge of bringing people into the UK from the countries they had called home.
‘Surely you’re not going to be awkward when there’s a man with a gun standing beside you?’ Nash said.
Johnny stepped forward. ‘Do as you’re told.’
Caelan allowed Nash to take her hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it, then wrenched it behind her back. Caelan gasped but knew better than to struggle. In this position she could break Nash’s hold, but he could also snap her arm. Then there was the other man, plus Johnny and his gun.
‘You lied to me,’ Nash hissed in her ear. ‘Who are you?’
‘You already know. Victoria Smith. Check my passport, my driving licence.’ She was breathing hard, harder than she needed to. She wanted him to think he was hurting her, that she was weakening.
Nash twisted her arm further, setting her off balance, making her vision blur for a second. She had to make him let go before he caused her real damage.
‘Stop, please,’ she squealed, laying it on thick.
Nash laughed, delighted. ‘Come on,’ he said to Johnny ‘Bring her to the storeroom. I’m sure when she sees the blood on the walls, she’ll tell us.’ He made a gun from his fingers and pointed it at her. ‘And if she doesn’t… Well, she’s already told us what her choice will be.’
He turned and walked away. Johnny gave her a shove and Caelan started walking, her mind spinning as she took in what Nash was saying. People were given a choice – be sold or be killed? She couldn’t believe he was serious, but the bullets in the back of the heads of the three unidentified victims told their own story. Still, it didn’t make sense. Nash was in this for the profit – why would he give his merchandise a way out when he could sell them?
The gun jabbed her spine again and she kept moving. Nash waited at the top of the stairs, beaming. He crooked a finger at Caelan, and she followed him down. In the corridor, the drone of the auctioneer’s voice continued, every thump of his gavel another life sold. Nash stopped to check his phone as Johnny marched Caelan past him.
Lucy and Justyna huddled together at the bottom of the stairs, both pale-faced, terrified. Again Johnny pushed the gun into Caelan’s back, and she moved to stand beside them. Lucy reached for her as Johnny turned away, looking to Nash for his next command. Caelan froze for a second as Lucy’s hand found hers.
Nash put his phone away. ‘We’re going this way.’
Caelan moved against the wall, changing the position of her body as Johnny turned back. He glared at her.
‘You heard. Keep moving,’ he said, pointing with his gun.
Caelan did as she was told, making her way down the corridor, moving as slowly as she dared. She didn’t want to leave Lucy and Justyna, but with Johnny and Nash beside her she had no choice.
Halfway down, Jolene Townsend stood with her arms folded, what looked like a toolbox at her feet. Her face was blank, her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Beyond her was a man who had his back to them, shoulders hunched. Caelan guessed his identity before he turned.
Leyton Grey.
He too had a case, clutched to his chest. His expression was desolate, his eyes on the ground. When he lifted them and met Caelan’s gaze, he didn’t flinch, and she knew what he was trying to tell her: I had no choice.
She stared back at him as she passed, because there was always a choice. Whether you decided to take the right path or went for self-preservation was up to you.
Time To Go Page 31
