The Disappearance of Katie Wren

by Cross,Amy

  “You don't like the deal? You wanna tear it up and walk away? Fine! But good luck with -”

  “Ladies, please,” Tim says suddenly, leaning through from the back seat. “I'm sure you can agree to disagree. Annabelle, you must appreciate that Winifred is simply worried about her daughter. And Winifred, I'm sure you can bring yourself to respect, how grudgingly, Annabelle's skills as a reporter. I mean, she's certainly got us this far.”

  “Listening in to a maid being disciplined over a dodgy microphone?” I ask.

  He sighs. “I think there might be more to it than that.”

  “In what -”

  “I've heard of this place,” he adds.

  Annabelle and I both turn to him.

  “I wasn't sure at first,” he continues, with a hint of fear in his voice as he stares out toward the dark building. “I didn't say anything because I thought perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me, but now I have no doubts. Back when I was in the Navy, I rose quite high in the ranks. The whole thing becomes a bit of a boys' club at a certain level, and I recall being invited to a few rather unusual clubs. I never liked the scene, I only attended once or twice out of sheer naivety, and then I excused myself. The whole thing wasn't my scene at all. To be honest, that's probably why my career stalled and I ended up retiring early. But during those days, I overheard a few conversations that perhaps I shouldn't, and I'm sure one of them mentioned this house, this Knott's Court place.”

  “What did they say about it?” Annabelle asks.

  “I don't remember exactly. I know it was talked about in hushed tones, and I know one needed an invitation. I recall being told that I might be granted admission one day if I proved lucky enough. There's always been a part of me that hates all that exclusive nonsense, and I also got the impression that perhaps the place was rather sordid. So I backed away from that particular group of officers, and to be honest I rather forgot about it until this morning when you started throwing the name around. Of course, this was back in the late 1990's, but Knott's Court was definitely being mentioned at the time. And I can tell you one thing. I got the distinct impression that it was far more than just a gentleman's club. There was a lot of nodding and winking going on.”

  Annabelle stares at him for a moment, before turning to me.

  “But it's not the kind of place where young women are hurt,” I say after a moment, convinced that he'll back me up on this point. “It can't be! The whole idea is ludicrous.”

  “There are some dark and twisted people in the world,” Tim replies. “I've seen their edges.”

  I turn to him. “But the police -”

  “Have the power they're granted,” he continues. “As I believe I've said on multiple occasions now, it's healthy to display a little skepticism, and to ask questions. Otherwise one risks accepting every lie one is fed.” He glances at Annabelle. “And it's a sign of good character to think the world can be a better place.”

  I open my mouth to tell him that he's wrong, and to ask if he really thinks Annabelle might be onto something, but suddenly the microphone's receiving unit bursts back to life, filling the car with a static buzz.

  “Hang on,” Annabelle mutters, adjusting some dials until the buzz fades and we hear voices.

  “So they sent you in with this?” a man is saying. “Did they seriously think it wouldn't be found?”

  “I don't know,” Agnes sobs, “but she told me I had no choice. She made me come back and -”

  The feed is suddenly cut, and the device falls dead.

  The three of us sit in silence in the car for a moment.

  “So...” I hesitate, trying to work out what just happened. “They discovered the microphone?”

  “They did,” Annabelle whispers, still staring out at the dark street.

  I pause for a moment, before sighing. “Well, that's hardly a surprise. Quite frankly, I thought your little plan was doomed from the start and -”

  “Who said it had failed?” she asks suddenly, interrupting me. “You don't really think I thought I could sneak a microphone into that place, do you? Jesus Christ, Winnie, how naive do you think I am? I knew they'd find it. In fact, I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did. I also told Agnes in no uncertain terms that she needed to rat us out at her first available opportunity.”

  “And why would you do that?” I continue.

  “Because sometimes, when life presents you with an opportunity, you have to dive straight in and come up with a plan later. Sometimes you can't hold back and wait for everything to be perfect. She was gonna rat us out anyway, she's just that kinda girl, so now I've muddied the waters. We've stirred the hornets' nest, and now we have to see what they do when they come buzzing out. If there's one thing you need to know about a hornets' nest, it's this. You can't get 'em while they're happily going about their business inside. You need to rustle 'em up.”

  “In other words,” I say after a moment, “you intentionally made them angry?”

  “They were angry already. Remember the friends they sent to meet us at the church? The only way to force these assholes to slip up is to make them act fast. Make them panic.”

  “And what about Agnes?” Tim asks. “You sent her back in there. Won't they punish her?”

  “Of course they will.”

  “But then -”

  “Don't try telling me I did the wrong thing,” she continues, turning first to him and then to me. “She was dead anyway, the moment they even suspected she was involved with anyone from outside the house. She'd never have made it back to France.”

  “But she could have tried!” I point out, shocked by her heartlessness. “You're not seriously suggesting that you sent that girl in there, knowing full well that she -”

  “Don't act like you give a damn about her well-being,” she replies with a faint sneer. “An hour ago, you were damn near ready to beat the truth out of her.”

  “And how is this going to help us find Katie?” I ask.

  “I'm working on that.”

  “I thought you had a plan?”

  “I have lots of plans. I just need to narrow them down and pick one that has a chance of working. A lot depends on how those assholes react. Don't underestimate how embarrassed they'll be that we've managed to penetrate even this far. I doubt anyone has ever snuck a microphone through their front door before.” She pauses for a moment. “I have a dead man's handle on a file containing information about them. That should give them pause for thought, assuming they've picked up on the hints. They'll want to avoid publicity, even though they know they can deal with the problem in the end.” She smiles. “Harry told me this was the best way to deal with them, and he was right.”

  “You almost seem to be enjoying this,” I tell her. “It's like a game for you.”

  “I've waited a long time for -”

  “I'm going to find my daughter.” With that, I open the door and step out onto the cold pavement.

  “Hey!” Annabelle clambers out the other side and starts hurrying after me as I make my way along the street. “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

  “Knocking on their door worked just fine this morning,” I point out. “I rather think it might be a good idea to try the same thing again.”

  “They'll kill you!”

  “I'll take my chances. I'm starting to feel that you've blown all of this up in your head.”

  “You still don't believe me?” she asks. “Seriously?”

  “I'm sure there's a kernel of truth in what you're saying,” I tell her, “but I've always been a firm believer in the importance of tackling these things head-on. You've never gone and knocked on their door. I have. I think it's time to try things my way.”

  I start crossing the road, heading toward the steps.

  “Don't do this,” Annabelle stammers. “I need you!”

  “For what?”

  “To crack this place open!”

  “I'm sure you'll manage.”

  “No!” She steps in front of me, block
ing my way, and I'm shocked by the desperation in her eyes. “I've waited so long for this chance!” she hisses. “For them to take someone, and for someone like you to come looking. Do you think it was a coincidence that I bumped into you at that police station the other day? Hell no! I've had my eye out for years, waiting for something like this to happen! I knew they were gonna make a move like this, I knew they were after someone particular or waiting for someone, and I just had to be patient! Please, you can't waste the opportunity by -”

  “Is that all it is to you? An opportunity?”

  “I can get your daughter out of there,” she continues breathlessly, “but only if -”

  “You don't even have a plan,” I point out with a sigh. “You admitted that yourself, just a couple of minutes ago. If these people are as bad as you say they are, and if Katie's in as much danger as you suggest, then you have absolutely no means of dealing with them. Now, I intend to go to that front door and ask them very bluntly what's going on, and I intend to tell them that if I'm not satisfied with their answer, I shall go to the police. And I assure you, Annabelle, that the police will listen to me eventually. I still have faith that this is a country that's run according to the rules of law and order.”

  “Don't be such a -”

  “And now if you'll excuse me,” I continue, “I have to -”

  Before I can finish, I spot a silhouette stumbling into view at the next corner. My first assumption is that the figure is just some late-night drunk, but after a moment she leans against a nearby car as if she's in pain. I watch for a few seconds, and finally the figure starts running before slipping and dropping to the ground.

  Annabelle turns and immediately runs toward the figure.

  “Katie?” I whisper, hurrying after her. For a moment, I feel a rush of hope in my chest, before seeing that the figure is in fact Agnes.

  “What happened?” Annabelle asks, helping her to her feet.

  “I ran,” Agnes gasps, clearly in pain. “They took me to the back, where the others are kept. They were going to take me away in a van, but they left the gate open and I ran.”

  “Bullshit,” Annabelle replies, looking both ways along the street. “They'd never be that sloppy. If you made it out, it's 'cause they want you to make it out. I sent you in as a message, and they're sending you back out as another message.”

  “I saw her,” she continues, turning to me. “I saw your daughter. I saw Katie.”

  “This is way too convenient,” Annabelle mutters, sounding increasingly concerned. “They just -”

  “She gave me this!” Agnes holds her hand out toward me, and after a moment I see something hanging from her fingers, glinting in the lights of the nearby streetlamp.

  Reaching out, I take the necklace, and I immediately recognize it as Katie's.

  “They're coming for me,” Agnes sobs. “You promised you'd help me, you said you'd get me away from here! Please, you have to keep your promise!”

  “Hang on,” Annabelle replies, “just stick with us and you'll be fine. We have to get out of here.”

  “I have to go home!” Agnes shouts, stumbling around the nearest car and out into the street. “You have to help me get home! I want to go back to France!”

  “They've seen us!” Annabelle says suddenly.

  Turning, I see that the door at the top of the steps has opened now, and a silhouetted figure appears to be watching us.

  “They're setting us up,” Annabelle continues. “They're trying to make us panic. Smart plan, it's basically what I was trying to do to them. It won't work, though.”

  “I'm going to go and talk to them,” I stammer, although I have to admit that the silhouette strikes a somewhat imposing figure as it continues to state at us. “This nonsense has gone on long enough.”

  Annabelle grabs my arm. “We need to go somewhere they can't find us. I thought I had this under control but -”

  “You don't have anything under control!” I snap, turning and watching for a moment as Agnes limps away across the street. “For God's sake, go and deal with her. Get her to a hospital or something, I don't know, it's not my concern. I intend to -”

  Before I can finish, I hear a car speeding along the street. I turn just as the car flashes past us, and then to my horror I watch as the dark vehicle plows straight into Agnes from behind. She bounces up from the bonnet and over the back of the car before crashing down against the tarmac. I hear the sound of bones shattering as she lands just a few feet away, and she lets out a howling, pained cry.

  I open my mouth to say something, but the car screeches to a halt and hesitates for a moment with its engine running, before starting to reverse at full speed.

  “Help me,” Agnes gurgles, trying to get up despite her knot of broken limbs. “Please -”

  The car speeds directly over her. I look away, but I still hear a series of loud crunches, along with gasps from horrified onlookers.

  “Move!” Annabelle shouts, grabbing my arm and pulling me along the pavement. “We're getting out of here right now!”

  She drags me across the street. Hearing the car's engine rev once more, I make the mistake of turning and looking over at the heap on the ground. Agnes is still moving, still trying to get up as the car's headlights blare down at her. A moment later, the car speeds forward again and I watch in horror as its wheels crush the poor girl's body, this time going straight over her head and causing it to burst open. As the car comes to a halt, I'm just about able to make out the calm, stony-eyed stare of the driver, who watches me for a moment before putting the car in reverse and driving one more time over what's left of Agnes.

  “Get in!” Annabelle hisses, pulling me over to her car and opening the door before shoving me inside. “Now do you believe me that these people aren't fooling around?”

  Too shocked to say anything, I wait as Annabelle runs around and gets into the driver's seat.

  “What happened?” Tim asks from the back seat. “I heard people shouting. Is Agnes coming back?”

  “I don't think so,” Annabelle mutters, starting the engine and then turning the wheel, driving the car onto the pavement and past several shocked onlookers. “Those assholes just made a very public statement, and you can bet your ass it was directed at us. They're not pissing about anymore.”

  She drives the car to the corner of the pavement and then out onto the street again, before turning the wheel hard left and accelerating. There's plenty of late-night traffic around, with double-decker buses lumbering leisurely along ahead of us, and Annabelle is already cursing under her breath.

  “Are they following us?” she asks after a moment.

  Unable to reply, I sit in stunned silence and relive those awful moments over and over. In my mind's eye, I keep seeing Agnes's head bursting open as it's crushed by a tire.

  “Are they following us?” Annabelle screams. “Will one of you assholes please look out the back window and help me here?”

  I turn and look back, and I see that Tim is doing the same. At first I just see a few taxis and buses, but a moment later the black car swings around the corner and starts coming up behind us.

  “I see them,” I stammer. “It's the car from -”

  “Great!”

  Annabelle turns the wheel, sending us at speed around the next right turn. Sure enough, a moment later the black car follows.

  “This can't be happening,” I whisper, feeling as if my racing heart is about to burst out through my chest. “We're in the heart of London, for God's sake. We can't be being chased by -”

  “In case you've forgotten,” Annabelle says darkly, interrupting me, “that asshole still has blood on his wheels. Does he look like he's worried about getting away before the cops show up? This is his very public way of demonstrating that he can do whatever the hell he wants.”

  “But there are people around,” I point out, looking at the pavement and seeing late-night shoppers everywhere. “There are witnesses!”

  “And tonight on the news, a nice e
xplanation will be rolled out for everyone to believe,” she continues, taking us down another street. “Plenty of people saw Agnes getting killed. Maybe terrorists'll be blamed, or a spurned boyfriend, or maybe they'll come up with something new this time. I promise you, it'll all get neatly packaged into a bite-sized chunk for everyone to swallow, and the same goes for whatever they've got planned for us. They're experts at making their lies just believe enough for everyone to swallow.”

  “But...”

  I pause for a moment, watching as the black car continues to follow us. Turning to Tim, I see the shock in his eyes, and then I turn to Annabelle.

  “These people are monsters,” I say finally.

  “I've been telling you that all day!”

  “But real monsters!” I continue. “The most awful...”

  My voice trails off as I realize that Annabelle has been right all along.

  “We definitely riled them,” she says after a moment. “More than I expected. They seem jumpier than usual.”

  “Are you sure we shouldn't stop somewhere?” Tim asks. “I feel like this is all getting rather out of hand.”

  “Relax,” Annabelle continues, “they're not actually chasing us. Why would they bother? In a city like this, they can track us any number of ways. They're sending a message, they're making sure we know they're onto us. It's working pretty well so far, don't you think? I mean, I've gotta admit, I consider myself to be a pretty streetwise girl but even I'm kinda sweating right now.”

  She takes a hard right, driving us down a darker street, and sure enough the black car is still keeping pace with us. It's closer now, and I think I can see a few splashes of blood on its windshield.

  “What does he want with us?” I ask. “Where can we go to get away from him?”

  “I'm still thinking,” Annabelle mutters.

  “You could try to drive faster,” Tim suggests.

  “I'd crash!” she hisses. “Do I seem like the kind of person who'd get very far in a car chase through the middle of goddamn London? Look how many people are around! We'd get ten meters before I'd ram us into a goddamn bollard!”