by Karla Forbes
After that, she didn’t see him again for a long time and she began to fear that he had abandoned her. She began to struggle against the chains with mounting panic. She even considered calling out for help, but her terror at angering him was so great that she held back. When he suddenly appeared again carrying a mug of warm soup, her relief was overwhelming. From that moment on she looked upon him not as her captor but her protector: the man who brought her food and water and hadn’t left her to die. She tried to please him then, and drained the mug in half a dozen choking gulps, and he praised her warmly as though she was a small child who had accomplished something truly wonderful. She basked in his few kind words and was determined never to anger him again.
After that, she slept on and off. When he next stepped into the van, the lack of light showing briefly through the open doors suggested that it was dusk. He hunkered down beside her and peered at her with curiosity.
“How are you feeling?” he asked brusquely.
She looked back at him, wondering if she dared risk his temper by appearing to complain. “I…I don’t feel well,” she stammered.
His expression remained unchanged. “What’s the problem?”
Emboldened, she told him. “I’ve got a headache and I feel weak and nauseous…I’m sorry,” she added as an apologetic afterthought.
To her relief, he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s to be expected,” he said, almost kindly. “This hasn’t been easy for you. You’re bound to be upset.” For the first time, he treated her to a warm smile. “Could you manage some more soup?”
She hated the idea of soup, but her fear of angering him was greater.
“I’ll try,” she promised.
“Good girl.” He disappeared, returning less than ten minutes later carrying a large mug of chicken and mushroom. He watched her as she sipped it slowly down. Her stomach lurched but she ignored it, angrily telling herself not to be sick. She drained the last drop and he took the empty mug from her with satisfaction and turned to go.
She plucked up her courage. “Will I be able to go home soon?” she asked tentatively.
He threw her another smile. “Not long now,” he promised and without another word left her alone once more in the darkness. The loneliness she felt was terrible. He had come to represent the only other person in her world, someone to exchange a few words with, however brief. Once, she thought she had heard the murmur of other men talking in low voices outside the van, but as she had held her breath, listening, they had drifted away. She had no idea where she was. She guessed she was somewhere in the countryside. Occasionally she heard a car in the distance, and once she had even heard children shouting, but generally there was only endless silence to fill the long hours. She lay on her side and tried to sleep, but her head was throbbing and the feelings of nausea were returning worse than before. She clamped her hand over her mouth, forcing herself not to vomit. If she did he would be angry, and that was something she didn’t dare risk.
***
Hubner and Fox glanced up as Wilson walked back into the lodge. “How’s it going?” Hubner asked.
Wilson tossed the mug into the sink and rinsed it vigorously. “It’s beginning to take effect. Trouble is she keeps feeling sick.”
“Isn’t that the idea?”
“Yeah, but it’s defeating the object if she’s continually throwing up.”
“Perhaps she’s had enough already,” Fox suggested.
Wilson looked dubious. “I don’t know. This is all trial and error.”
“We can’t wait indefinitely,” Hubner said thoughtfully. “Can we inject it into her?”
Wilson considered the possibility. “Perhaps.” He shook his head with frustration. “I just don’t know enough about this. Like I said, it’s all new territory. I’d rather stick to what we agreed. Give me some more time. I’ve changed tactics. I’m being kind to her now. I’m all she’s got, and she’s becoming dependent on me. If she’s not so scared she’ll be more likely to keep the food down.”
“I’ll be kind to her if you like,” Fox suggested, his voice heavy with meaning.
Hubner turned on him. “Keep your hands off her,” he ordered.
“Want her for yourself, do you?” Fox threw back at him.
Hubner crossed the room in three strides, gathered up Fox’s collar in one fist and yanked him from the chair.
“I realise that you have limited brain power, but try to understand this. Dave is the only one who has any contact with her, and that’s under strictly controlled conditions. You and I don’t go anywhere near her unless we have to. The police have got our DNA on file. If this goes wrong, I don’t want anyone knowing who we are before we’ve had a chance to skip the country.”
Fox glowered back, resentment showing on his face. “Dave’s in and out of there the whole time. Doesn’t that count?”
“Someone’s got to,” Wilson argued, “but I’m not planning on screwing her. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison, even if you do.”
Hubner shoved Fox back in the chair with disgust, and turned back to Wilson.
“Are you ready with the explosives?”
“Nearly.”
“‘Nearly’ isn’t good enough. Get them finished. I want them in place by the day after tomorrow.”
Wilson’s jaw dropped. “Why so soon? I thought we had longer.”
“We’re working to a strict timetable.” Hubner gestured with his thumb in the direction of the van outside. “If that’s going to take longer than expected, we’ve at least got to have everything else in place. You two must be ready to go to London at a moment’s notice.”
“Me?” Wilson asked in surprise. “I assumed you’d be going.”
“You assumed wrong,” Hubner informed him. “There’s the small matter of my accent. You two will go, and I’ll watch things here.”
“Oh yeah?” Fox said knowingly. “And what are you going to be up to while Dave and I are running around taking all the risks?”
“What?” Hubner asked coldly.
Fox gave a sneer. “I think you know what I mean.”
Hubner shook his head in disbelief. “You really are pathetic. Once we have our hands on sixty million, we’ll have all the women we want. Do you really think I’m that desperate?” He walked away in disgust.
Fox gave a snort of disbelief as he watched him go. He could see right through Hubner’s bluster. He had no doubt that once the German was alone, he would be climbing into the back of the van and having his fun. He didn’t even blame him, but Fox made a promise to himself: Hubner wasn’t going to be the only one to enjoy what was on offer.
Chapter Seven
Nick and Annelies walked into Reception, and Nick introduced himself as the customer who had telephoned earlier in the day.
“Oh, I remember,” the girl behind the desk said brightly. “What did you decide in the end? A lodge, or a studio flat in the main house?”
“A lodge please,” Nick told her. “Number Five, if it’s free.”
The girl gave him a questioning look. “Any reason for wanting that particular property?”
Nick wrapped a proprietary arm around Annelies’s waist and adopted a sentimental tone. “It’s our lucky number,” he explained. “We’ve known each other for five years. We met on the fifth, I proposed on the fifth and we’re going to be married on the fifth of May next year.”
As the girl gave a dreamy sigh of understanding and went off in search of the key, Nick stared ahead and tried not to look at Annelies, who was struggling, unsuccessfully, to keep her laughter under control.
“You really are full of bullshit sometimes, Nick Sullivan!” she said accusingly, when the receptionist was safely out of earshot.
“What should I have said?” he asked, his pride injured. “We’d like Number Five because it gives us the best opportunity to keep watch on the three murderers who happen to be staying in Number Seven?”
“OK, you’ve got a point,” she conceded. “But do you have
to lay it on so thick?”
“I was being imaginative,” he argued, hushing her as the receptionist came back carrying a key.
“There you go,” she said dropping it into his hand. She handed him a form. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind completing the necessary paperwork please.”
Nick filled it in using Annelies’s address. “Have you got many other guests staying here?” he asked conversationally as he wrote.
“Not many,” the girl admitted. “Once half term is over it gets quieter. There are a few couples like yourselves, and three gentlemen in the next-door-but-one lodge to you.”
Nick felt a surge of excitement. Three men; they were all here. He kept his voice neutral. “Hiding away from their wives, are they?”
The receptionist grinned. “Something like that, I guess. I got the distinct impression they didn’t want to be disturbed.”
Nick finished completing the paperwork and handed back the form. “We don’t intend disturbing anyone. In fact…” he cupped Annelies’s hand lovingly in his own, “…we’d quite like to be left alone ourselves. We’re looking forward to a few wonderful days of peace and quiet, so don’t mention to anyone else that we’re here, will you?”
The girl shook her head. “Of course not. Now, as I said, there’s a restaurant, a sports complex with pool and an on-site shop, so you don’t actually have to leave the grounds unless you want to.”
“It sounds perfect,” Nick assured her. It would make it a lot easier keeping an eye on the men if they didn’t have to keep going off site for supplies.
They said their goodbyes and hurried away, anxious to be out of sight as quickly as possible. Even with a few days’ stubble, baseball hat and glasses, Nick suspected that he wasn’t that difficult to recognise.
They turned the key in the door of their lodge and stepped inside, looking around them with interest. It was the usual basic holiday accommodation: living room with sofa bed, kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms, but all spotlessly clean and comfortably furnished. Annelies gave an involuntary shiver; it was evident from the chill that the lodge hadn’t been let for a while, so Nick deposited the bags in one corner and busied himself getting the heating going.
By the time he had finished, Annelies had discovered a welcome pack in the kitchen and was creating a mini-banquet of scrambled eggs, slabs of cheese, thick buttered toasted rolls and scalding hot mugs of tea. Afterwards, they settled companionably in one corner of the sofa which was perfectly placed for gazing into the fire whilst still being able to look out of the window and cast an occasional glance in the direction of their neighbours.
“What’s the plan, then?” Annelies asked as she kicked off her shoes and curled into the crook of Nick’s arm with her legs tucked under her.
“I’m not sure,” Nick admitted. “I haven’t been giving it much thought beyond tracking these men down. If I call the police now, it will be me that they turn up, mob-handed, to arrest, not them.”
“But at least you can prove that they really exist.”
Nick kissed the top of her head, his expression thoughtful. “True, but in the eyes of the law, that doesn’t automatically make them murderers. For the time being, I’d rather lay low and watch what they’re up to. I don’t believe for one minute that they’re here for the scenery, do you?”
“Probably not,” Annelies agreed, “but I can think of worse places to be holed up in. In different circumstances, it would be nice to have a holiday here.”
“Yeah, well, I’d booked a holiday in Mauritius,” Nick said, without bitterness. “I don’t remember reading a clause in the insurance policy about getting your money back if you’re accused of murder and go on the run.”
Annelies lapsed into thoughtful silence. When she next spoke, she was subdued. “I’m sorry it all went wrong for you, Nick.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t be. It was probably overdue.”
She wriggled around to look at him. “That’s a strange thing to say.”
“I’d had it too good for too long. Nobody can expect to have a perfect life. Gain is always balanced by pain.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t have to be like that.”
“It generally is.”
She snuggled back into the crook of his arm. “I would never have believed that you and Esther would split. You always seemed the perfect couple.”
“We probably believed it ourselves,” Nick said matter-of-factly. “I remember the first time I saw her; I thought she was the most beautiful person I’d ever met.”
“Love at first sight?” Annelies asked wistfully.
Nick was silent for a long time.
“I’ve never thought about it before,” he said at last, “but if I’m honest with myself, then no, it wasn’t. I wanted her because she was beautiful and she complemented the perfect life I was carving out for myself. I’m not sure that real love ever came into it. I don’t know if her reasons for marrying me were any less shallow, but I suspect they were.”
“That’s not true,” Annelies protested. “You’re only saying that now because everything’s gone wrong.”
“You think so?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was she having an affair with Tim?”
Annelies opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again without offering an answer.
“Precisely,” Nick said. “Let’s be honest here. I’ve probably lost my job, I’ve got no money, I couldn’t even buy the clothes I’m wearing, and I’m on the run from the law. I’m not much of a catch right now. Even if Esther believed I was innocent, how long do you reckon she would have stood by me in these circumstances?”
“Not long,” Annelies admitted reluctantly.
Nick gazed thoughtfully into the fire. “If you get a good wife you will become happy. If you get a bad one you will become a philosopher.”
“Who said that?”
“Socrates – who just happened to be a philosopher.”
Nick shook off the gloom and tweaked her on the nose. “So you can stop feeling sorry for me, Annie. I’m not the first man to have made a bad marriage, and I certainly won’t be the last.”
She turned to him and regarded him solemnly. “Nick, did you know you’ve been tweaking my nose since I was twelve?”
“Have I?” he asked with a chuckle.
“You have. I am now twenty-seven. Will you please stop?”
He hugged her to him. “Sorry Annie. You’ll always be twelve to me. You’re almost as much my kid sister as Ed’s.”
She rounded on him with frustration. “Look at me, Nick Sullivan. What do you see?”
“Someone who’s about to throw a temper tantrum?” he ventured.
She ignored him. “Do you see Ed’s little sister or a grown woman?”
His smile faltered. “Um…now you mention it, a grown woman.”
“Hallelujah! About bloody time. And I am looking at a grown man who’s remarkably slow on the uptake.”
He stared at her vacantly, wondering if he had understood her correctly. She laughed at his confusion.
“Don’t look so worried, Nick. You’ll have time enough to work it out. You can take first watch; I’m going to bed…alone. I’m tired.” She sprang to her feet and turned to go, but on impulse reached down to him and kissed him on the mouth before disappearing into her own room. He sat for a long time, staring into the middle distance, wondering how he could have been so blind.
It was much later, as he came abruptly awake, that he realised he had momentarily nodded off. She wasn’t the only one who was tired; it had been a long day. He roused himself to go into the kitchen to make a reviving mug of hot black coffee, but as he stood up the matchbox slipped from his pocket and fell, with a thud, on the floor. He looked at it blankly, before remembering that it contained the scrapings from the bowl at Fox’s house. Even though he still had no idea what it was, he sensed it was important. He retrieved the box and opened it, checking that the fold of paper was still intact. He poked at the strange
powder, stirring it around as he tried to guess what it was. If he even noticed the gash on his finger, it didn’t bother him. It was such a small thing to be of any consequence.
***
Fox bided his time, grateful that he had drawn the short straw and had been given the sofa bed. It would be easy enough to slip outside without disturbing the others, but there was no point in taking chances. The house fell silent around him. In the adjacent bedroom he could hear the soft rhythmic noises of Wilson snoring. From the third bedroom, occupied by Hubner, there was nothing. It was from there the danger could come. Hubner slept like a cat: immediately asleep, immediately awake.
He glanced at his watch. It was 2.30 in the morning. He lay for a while thinking of her, and his excitement grew. She was just a few yards away, tied like a tethered goat and available. Why shouldn’t he have her? He stared at the ceiling remembering the long nights of frustration when he had been in prison, but he wasn’t in prison now. Fuck Hubner! What made him think he had the God-given right to order the others around anyway?
He stared into the darkness, listening. An owl hooted in the distance, an eerie sound that made him shudder. He didn’t like the countryside; it was an empty desolate hole. Give him the sounds of the city any day. He looked again at his watch, came to a decision and slipped from his bed, hastily pulling on his jeans and a sweater. If he didn’t go now, he never would. The opportunity might not come again; Hubner had already indicated that they might move at any moment.
He tugged on his boots, picked up the keys to the van and padded quietly to the door. It creaked as he opened it. He paused, his heart beating loudly against his chest. Wilson’s snoring continued unchanged, but in the other room there was only silence. He smiled grimly and let himself out, shivering in the cold night air. A few yards away stood the van.
