The Bride's Trail

by AA Abbott

  The flick-knife slipped swiftly out of Jeb’s sock, where it had lain flush against his heel, and into the palm of his right hand. He waited for Erik to stay steady for a few seconds. If that meant his boss was thumped another couple of times first, too bad. Shaun was hard enough. He’d forget as long as Jeb delivered results.

  Jeb flicked the blade open. It glittered in the sunshine. Jeb noticed Erik focus on it, but too late. With a single deft swipe, Jeb cut the man’s throat from ear to ear.

  “Nice one, Jeb,” Shaun said approvingly.

  Jeb grinned. His anger was dissipating in the pride of a job well done. Adrenaline coursed through him now. His quarry was near. It was imperative to kill Kat before she could tell Shaun the truth.

  He set his cigarette lighter aflame, and applied it to one of the glossy shrubs flanking the doorway. The plant’s woody stem began to scorch, acrid smoke rising. Jeb chuckled with excitement. “Let’s set the place on fire,” he said.

  Chapter 37 Amy

  Kat screamed, a sound that spoke of far more than fear. “That was Shaun,” she sobbed to Amy. “His eyes...I’ve never seen such cold fury.”

  To Amy, who’d already experienced Shaun’s scary side, it was horribly believable. “We must call the police,” she urged.

  Kat stared at her. “We can run to safety. I know how.”

  “What about Erik? He’s out there with Shaun and Jeb. They’ll stop at nothing.” Amy was appalled that Kat would abandon her brother to his fate. She would have pressed the point, had Ross not chosen that moment to burst through the front door.

  “Kat, I heard you scream. Are you all right?” he asked, enveloping her in a hug.

  Kat made no effort to extricate herself from his embrace. “We have to run away, Ross,” she said, her eyes refilling with tears. She had the presence of mind to kick the door shut, though, Amy noted.

  Beautiful despite her reddened eyes, Kat seemed to mesmerise Ross. He simply nodded.

  “Erik told me we can escape through the cellar,” Kat said. “There are tunnels below that can take us miles away.” She led Ross by the hand to a door to the right of the stairs. “Amy – you’re coming with us, aren’t you? I want to be sure you’re safe.”

  Kat’s plea to Amy’s loyalty succeeded. Amy followed the pair, helping them locate the light switch just inside the door. A single naked light bulb above revealed brick steps stretching downwards as the cellar door slammed shut behind the three of them.

  There was no switch inside the cellar itself, though. Only the dimming rays of the bulb above the stairs gave illumination to the racking at the rear of the room.

  “How do we get behind that?” she asked.

  “Wriggle through,” Ross said. “I’m serious. Amy – you first, then Kat. Use your smartphone as a torch. We have to get away from those thugs, and we’re on our own. We can’t even call the police now.”

  Kat’s eyes glittered. “Good.”

  Ross raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got nothing to fear,” he said loyally. “Whatever that killer made you do, it was under duress. They’ll never prosecute you.”

  Amy knelt down in the dust and scrambled into the racking. It was easier than it looked. Ross was still explaining to Kat she could have faith in British justice, his lawyer friends would easily win a case even if it were brought to trial, which he doubted. Kat made protesting noises. Couldn’t Ross see why Kat didn’t trust the law? The poor girl’s parents had died in a foreign gaol. “Help Kat get through the door,” she called.

  Behind the door, a rush of cool air hit Amy’s cheeks; pleasant after the stickiness of the summer’s day above. A spiral metal ladder descended into gloom. Holding her precious torch carefully, Amy made her way down. While the rungs were evenly spaced, the final step onto solid earth was not. Amy landed awkwardly.

  The jarring impact loosened her grip on the phone. It fell to the ground and the light from it disappeared. Worse, pain shot through her left foot. “I’ve sprained my ankle,” Amy gasped.

  Ross’ voice, above her, was remarkably free from panic. “You’ve probably just twisted it. Try putting some weight on it. Hold the ladder just in case.”

  “It’ll hurt,” Amy protested.

  “What do you think those thugs intend? I assure you that will hurt more,” Ross said coldly. “I speak from personal experience.”

  Gingerly, she stepped from side to side. “I can hobble,” she reported.

  “It’s nothing serious then,” Ross said. “Do you think you can find that phone before one of us treads on it? Kat and I will wait on the ladder until you do.”

  “We must get moving,” Kat pleaded.

  “We need light for that,” Ross reminded her. “I don’t want you to trip. Has your phone got a flashlight, Kat?”

  “It’s upstairs.”

  Amy shuffled cautiously from side to side, her ankle throbbing, until the tip of her left foot struck a small object. Reaching down, she found her phone, thankfully intact.

  Its light revealed an imposing metal door, a circular combination lock inset opposite the hinges.

  “One, two, three,” Kat hissed.

  Amy turned the dial to the numbers, just in time, for the door at the top of the shaft creaked open again. Her heart stopped. If it had been Erik, if by some miracle he had fought off the two brutes, he would have shouted the news. Most of all, he’d want to reassure his sister. The silence meant Shaun and Jeb were inside the flat, and Erik was no longer fighting them. Amy could imagine the implications. She tried not to.

  The huge grey block of metal swung open as soon as she’d entered the sequence. “Quick,” she said, pushing Ross and Kat through, before slamming the door shut.

  “We’re safe now,” Kat said.

  Amy wasn’t sure. Disorientated, she looked around. She’d feared the worst, expecting a descent into sewers, or a dank culvert for one of the canals that criss-crossed the city. Nothing had prepared her for the brightly-lit space in which she found herself. It was like a white-painted railway arch, with industrial cabling and lights strung at its apex. It wasn’t so much a room as a huge corridor, easily wide enough for the trio to stand abreast. At one end was a brick wall, punctuated by the door through which she’d arrived. At the other end, the arch opened into a larger area.

  The fluorescent lighting threw Ross’ bruises and scratches into stark relief. Kat traced a finger across them, her face a picture of concern. “What did they do to you?” she murmured.

  “Nothing much,” Ross said.

  “I thought Jeb was my friend,” she said.

  “I hope you know better now,” he replied. His eyes flicked about the room. “I wonder what we’ve stumbled into. Look, this place is in impeccable order. It’s clean and well-lit. If you listen,” he cocked his ear, “you can hear machinery in the background. There must be other people around, and definitely another way out.”

  “Erik says this is a telecoms network,” Kat told him. “There are several entrances.”

  “I knew it,” Ross said. “No one else would crawl through a dusty cellar in the middle of nowhere. Now we’ve got away, let’s find help – or at least, another exit.” He took Kat’s hand and began marching.

  Amy hobbled behind as best she could, using the wall for support. Her ankle felt worse with every step. “Hang on,” she called, seeing the pair turn left at the end of the room, “I can’t keep up.”

  “We’ll wait,” Ross’ disembodied voice said. As she turned the corner, he added, “I’ll take your right shoulder and Kat can take the left. We’re in this together.”

  Amy was grateful for his strength. He practically lifted her off the ground single-handed, so Kat and indeed Amy herself were bearing very little weight. There was no doubt that their combined pace was slower than his would have been alone, though.

  They approached a fork in the corridor. “Listen,” Ross said. “Those are voices in the distance, aren’t they? Help is at hand.”

  “Far from it,” Kat said, sudd
en terror in her eyes. “It’s Jeb and Shaun.”

  Amy shared her fear. Shaun’s visit to the flat had been frightening enough, but nothing compared with Lizzie’s ordeal at Jeb’s hands. Whatever they had in mind now, Ross was right. The pain searing through her ankle would seem as blissful as the aromatherapy massage she’d enjoyed at the Malmaison. She shivered.

  “We can’t outrun them,” Ross said. “We’ve got to find a hiding place.”

  “There,” Amy pointed to the right hand fork.

  Like a beacon, a grey metal door was inset into the wall a mere twenty metres away. Kat detached herself from Amy and ran to it. “It’s open,” she reported.

  They heard footsteps at a running pace.

  “It’s our only chance,” Ross said. Half-carrying Amy, he dragged her to the door.

  They’d found a small chamber, roughly square, empty save for a few boxes. “We need to lock ourselves in,” Ross said, “or make a barricade, or even set an ambush.”

  Amy put her finger to her lips. They all heard Shaun’s voice, loud, clear and near, as Amy gently pushed the door fully shut.

  Chapter 38 Shaun

  “That’s enough,” Shaun said sharply, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of the burning shrub. “No fires here, not until I’ve seen the whites of her eyes. I want my money back.”

  He turned his attention to the black door in front of them. It was firmly shut. Frustrated, Shaun pushed against it to see how solid it was. Clearly, the wood and hinges were strong; there was no movement. He considered asking Jeb to batter it, and discounted the possibility. It would be noisy, without any guarantee of success. Instead, Shaun inspected the lock. He had a couple of bump keys he kept for situations like this, but no hammer or screwdriver with which to tap them. Swiftly, he removed a lock-picking tool from his wallet. Shaun’s father had taught him well; he and Jeb were inside the property within thirty seconds.

  “Cover me, Jeb,” he said, kicking open the door on the left. In truth, he was sure Marty Bridges was not there. They would be facing Kat, Ross and perhaps Amy; no one else. In any event, Jeb steadied his gun as Shaun glanced around the empty room. “We’ll try the door on the right next,” he said.

  “Okay.” Jeb’s consonants were muffled, probably because his nose was broken. Shaun had little sympathy. He regretted praising Jeb so quickly. Erik’s corpse was an inconvenience they could do without.

  Opening the right hand door revealed the steps to the cellar. “The light’s on. Let’s get down there.” He removed his pistol from his breast pocket and held it in front of him, ready to shoot. “Have your gun ready too, Jeb. No need to worry about the sound. These walls are solid.” He hoped the floors weren’t. A bare earth cellar was a useful place to dispose of bodies; Erik’s, for example. They could drag it there later when they’d despatched the fugitives.

  “Okay,” Jeb, usually more talkative, muttered again.

  The stairs twisted to the left through ninety degrees and opened out into a brick vault. Shaun’s pleasure at spying the dirt floor turned swiftly to dismay. Apart from broken old furniture and other bric-a-brac, the gloomy underground room was empty. “Where are they?” he said, outraged.

  “In the shade?” Jeb asked, shooting liberally at the larger shadows.

  “Stop that,” Shaun said sharply, as a couple of bullets ricocheted in random directions, almost returning to sender.

  “Since when were you a poster boy for health and safety?” Jeb whinged.

  “Is there another way out?” Shaun mused. “I can’t see any doors. Got a light, Jeb?”

  Jeb’s cigarette lighter flared, adding enough illumination to discern dusty footprints heading towards the back of the room.

  “That’s it,” Shaun said. “There’s a door behind those shelves. Pull everything off them.”

  Jeb roughly cleared the upper shelves of the rusty unit, sending old boxes and metal coils thudding to the ground. He dragged the unit to one side.

  Shaun tutted impatiently. Luckily, the door wasn’t locked. Shaun opened it to reveal the spiral ladder beyond. He heard a distant clang as a door slammed shut far below. While he could barely see, he knew he was on Kat’s trail. “This is it,” he breathed. “There must be another cellar down there. We’ll catch them like rats in a trap. Do you have anything better than that cigarette lighter?”

  “I left the flamethrower at home,” Jeb joked.

  Shaun gave him a filthy look, completely wasted in the gloom, he knew. “Okay, we’ll just have to be careful,” he said. “Put your gun away. You go first, with your lighter.”

  “One of my phones has a flashlight,” Jeb said. Like Shaun, he always carried a few; cheap models on pay as you go tariffs, completely untraceable.

  “Mine too,” Shaun admitted. “Sorted.” He ordered Jeb to descend first, carrying the light. He, Shaun, would follow with his gun, to provide cover.

  The substantial metal door at the foot was a problem. They tried pushing and pulling, but it remained firmly locked. Furthermore, it appeared to be built to withstand an earthquake. Even Jeb couldn’t lever it off its hinges, bruising his shoulder when he tried.

  “We’ll just have to guess at the combination,” Shaun said. “I wish my boys were here. It’s like a password, isn’t it?” He recalled Ben saying most passwords were common, and therefore easy to hack.

  “One,” Jeb suggested.

  “It won’t be a single number,” Shaun said, twisting the dial to one, releasing it and repeating the process twice. The door stayed stubbornly shut. He searched the corners of his mind for inspiration, apprehensively trying one, two, three. “Bingo.” The metal door opened.

  “It’s the Tube,” Jeb exclaimed. “All aboard the Piccadilly Line.”

  They were at the blind end of a tunnel, constructed of white painted bricks and running for about fifty metres before emerging in a T junction. At the top of the curved ceiling was a strip of fluorescent lights accompanied by thick worms of cable. Shaun wondered what this place was, and its purpose. Knowing he was below Birmingham’s Jewellery Quarter, it occurred to him that the underground passages might give him access for a jewel heist in future. Marty Bridges’ disused workshop was both an excellent entry point and escape route. It was a stroke of luck, not only that Kat had been hiding there, but that Jeb had not yet put the workshop on fire as Shaun had intended.

  Shaun resolved to explore the subterranean warren once he’d given Kat what she deserved. He agreed it resembled the London Underground, although no tracks were laid on the smooth concrete floor. There were none of the sights, sounds and smells of the Tube, either. Most striking of all, he and Jeb were alone. There was no sign of Kat and her friends. “Sshh,” he cautioned. “Listen for them.”

  They stood still and silent. At first, all Shaun heard was a low hum of machinery and another sound, barely audible, like a bath filling. Then a woman spoke, her comments indistinct. Shaun pointed to the left of the T junction, looking at Jeb. Jeb nodded. They ran.

  At the T junction, another tunnel, similar to the first except for its length, curved away in both directions. Shaun and Jeb sprinted to the left. Round the bend, there was a long, straight stretch, then a fork. No voices were audible.

  Shaun’s mind was racing. Which direction should they choose? He simply didn’t know. “We’ll split up,” he decided. ”Get your gun ready again.”

  “You want me to make a public announcement, boss?” Jeb asked, with the merest hint of insolence, albeit obeying swiftly.

  Shaun glared. “They’ll know we’re coming. We sound like a herd of elephants already.” Indeed, there was no way of muffling their footsteps on the hard floor. “Whoever sees them first – shout, okay?”

  Jeb grunted assent.

  Shaun took the right hand fork. He was still fit enough to run fast. It was a skill, the only one in fact, that had won him prizes at school and it had saved him in his teens when burglaries went wrong. As always, he kept his senses in a state of high alert. That was how
he noticed a ringing noise from a door on his left, as if it had been abruptly closed and an echo remained.

  It was a grey metal door, smaller and plainer than the entrance to the underground complex. Shaun pushed it cautiously. It opened a crack. While there was light beyond, he could see nothing else. He applied more force, and the door swung wide open.

  This was a room, a cuboid; painted white like the thoroughfares around him but devoid of curves. Its function was unclear. Perhaps it was a little-used storeroom, for a few cardboard boxes were scattered around. Of more interest, Kat and her two friends were also there, shrinking in a corner.

  There was no hiding place in the almost-empty chamber, no doors through which they could escape. He had them in his sights at last.

  “I’ve got a gun,” he said, pointing it at Kat, “and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  “I didn’t think it was a vase of flowers, Shaun,” she said.

  He wanted to laugh, but stopped himself. If she hadn’t been so greedy, he might have bought her flowers; a lavish bouquet redolent of his wealth and power. There was no point speculating about a fantasy Kat, though. He’d misjudged the real Kat, failed to understand what she was prepared to do for money. Twenty grand was twenty grand. “Jeb!” he shouted. He could have despatched them all in seconds, but he wanted his henchman to see the act, to tell others and have it pass into folklore. He couldn’t afford his peers to think he was a soft touch. “Don’t move,” he snarled at the trio.

  They huddled in the furthest corner of the room, a mere few yards from him. Shaun had imagined the young, besuited man he’d punched in the courtyard was Amy’s boyfriend. They’d been together at the pub in Harborne. No longer; the young man was holding Kat’s hand, an impassive expression on his bespectacled face. While Amy leaned against the wall, fidgeting and anxious, Kat was cool and poised as ever. Shaun admired her nerve.

  Jeb arrived, waving a pistol flamboyantly. “You found them, boss?” His eyes were a mixture of triumph and fear. What was that about?