by Peter Boland
“I need you to find the licence plate of a navy-blue BMW five series for me.” He gave her the licence number. “How long do you think it will take?”
“No time at all. I know who owns it already. It belongs to Wellington Properties, one of their company cars.”
“You sure?”
“Positive, thought it might be proactive to get the plates of all their vehicles, just in case.”
“Good work, Tannaz. I think we might be onto something. I think Archie might be doing a job for Wellington.”
Chapter 32
Savage stood on the cold empty street. One thing was for sure, Archie disappearing on random nights, probably wasn’t to sleep in the warmth of the train station waiting room, it was to go and do something for Wellington. But what? Judging by the fresh Elastoplasts slapped across Archie’s forehead it wasn’t anything good. Was he satisfying Simon Wellington’s perverse and sadistic desires? Getting locked up or tortured in basements like the one at the old B&B at twenty-seven Sutton Road, so he could fuel his whisky addiction? It seemed highly likely. And how many others were there like Archie, in other Wellington properties who were engaging in his bizarre games? Simon Wellington overseeing it all like some present-day Joseph Mengele. Not a totally inaccurate parallel to draw. Mengele had the whole of Auschwitz concentration camp to act out his disgusting ideas, while Wellington had his property empire, filled to the brim with vulnerable, desperate and willing people.
“So, do you want to find out where they’re going?” asked Tannaz. Savage had completely forgot that Tannaz was still on the end of the phone.
“Yeah, but how?”
“The in-car navigation system. I just hacked it. They’re heading out of Southampton towards the forest.”
Savage nearly dropped the phone.
“Savage, you still there?”
“Yeah, just you continue to both astound and scare me with your hacking abilities. Remind me never to make an enemy of you.”
“Aw, too kind. Want me to come and pick you up?”
“Definitely.”
With deathly quiet streets it only took Tannaz a matter of minutes to reach Savage. The VW Caddy swung into the kerb. Tannaz got out. “Now this is what I’m talking about.”
Savage looked at her confused.
“This night-time shit. Sneaking around when everyone’s tucked up, following a lead.”
“Well, let’s find out what they’re up to.”
“You drive,” said Tannaz. “I’ll get on the laptop and track these perps.”
“Perps? Archie’s more like a whisky-drinking Hobbit,” Savage replied, slipping into the driver’s seat.
Tannaz got in and unfurled her laptop. “And we’re following them into the forest. Very Lord of the Rings.”
Savage put the VW in gear and gunned the engine, pointing the van out of Southampton.
“Is that where they’re going, into the forest?” he asked.
“Last time I looked.”
“Are they still moving?” asked Savage.
A simple map of the road system in and around Southampton filled her screen. A single thick black line representing the blue BMW extended across the map, growing ever longer. “Yeah, heading along the A35, through the middle of the forest. Wait, they’ve just turned off, going north-west towards a place called Bolderwood.”
“Okay we’ve got some catching up to do.”
Once they were clear of the city, Savage slammed the accelerator to the floor. The yellow glow of streetlights came to an abrupt end and the van plunged into the thick darkness of the forest, the road flanked by a tunnel of black trees.
“How are our targets doing?” asked Savage.
“Hold on,” Tannaz replied. “They’ve stopped.”
“You certain?”
“The black line isn’t moving anymore.”
“Okay, well keep an eye on them.”
Tannaz groaned. “Savage, what else did you think I was going to do, start playing Candy Crush?”
“Okay, I’ll admit, that was a bit patronising. Can you get more detail on where they’ve stopped. Anything there? Houses? Buildings?”
“Now that I can do.”
The plink of rapid typing filled the front of the van.
“Anything?” asked Savage.
“Nothing.”
“What ‘nothing’ as in you don’t have details yet or ‘nothing’ as in there’s nothing there.”
“The last one, they’ve pulled off the road and stopped in the middle of nowhere.”
“Okay, this is getting interesting. Tell me when we’re within about five hundred metres of their position.”
Tannaz nodded, kept her eyes on the screen.
The van went silent, apart from the drone of the engine as the ghostly forest scrolled past.
Savage turned off the A35 and headed into Bolderwood, although Bolderwood seemed indistinguishable from the area of forest they’d just driven through.
“Okay, now,” said Tannaz. “We’re about five hundred metres from their position.”
“Hang on.” Savage turned the wheel hard and the little VW left the comparative smoothness of the road and jumped onto rough ground, darting between trees. Bumping its way along, jolting both of them off their seats. The suspension complained and really wasn’t up to it. Savage throttled back and came to a halt alongside some dense bushes then pulled on the handbrake.
“Good. Now we can’t be seen from the road, just in case Wellington’s car starts moving again and comes back this way.”
“What happens now?” asked Tannaz.
“Can you get that tracking map on your smartphone?”
“Of course.”
“Great. We make our way across the cover of the forest, closing in on their position. Find a good OP.”
“OP?”
“Observation post, under a bush, preferably like the ones we’re parked next to, make ourselves comfortable and watch.”
“We’re going out there, walking across the forest in pitch-black darkness to watch some guys sitting in a car?”
“Yep.”
Tannaz snorted in disapproval.
“What?” asked Savage.
“I told you, I don’t do nature.”
“You just said you loved this night-time stuff. Sneaking around when everyone’s tucked up.”
“I meant more of an urban setting. You know, seedy nightclubs and bars, roughing up a few ne’er-do-wells.”
Savage laughed. “Ne’er-do-wells! Is that phrase making a comeback? Because I think the last person who said that wore a top hat and breeches.”
Tannaz snorted again.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Fun in the same way that people think camping is fun, when really it’s paying to be homeless.”
“Okay, you can stay here. But you may miss something. Don’t you want to find out what’s going on? And, I’m worried about Archie. Wellington might be exploiting him, using his drinking habit to make him do weird things for booze. I could do with some backup.”
Tannaz thought for a moment, then said, “Okay, I’m coming but I’m not lying down in dirt. That’s the deal.”
“We need to stay out of sight.”
“Savage, look around. There are about a million trees to hide behind.”
“Fair enough.”
They stepped out of the VW, surrounded by the dank forest air.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tannaz shrieked. “It’s bloody snowing.”
“Keep your voice down,” Savage whispered. His tone was better suited to a shout. “I’d hardly call this snow, it’s just a light flurry.”
Tannaz shivered. “Two things I hate most. Nature and snow.”
“Well, you’re not exactly dressed for it, what have yo
u got on under that biker jacket?”
“A T-shirt.”
“A T-shirt? You’re not exactly dressed for the great outdoors, are you?”
“You didn’t say we’d be outdoors. You said come and pick me up.”
Savage started taking off his jacket.
“What are you doing?” asked Tannaz.
“Giving you my jacket.”
“Oh, no you’re not,” said Tannaz. “Don’t give me any of that Mister Darcy crap. I’m not a helpless female. Now come on, let’s do this before our targets move on.” A small square of light from Tannaz’s phone lit up her face. “This way.”
Savage shrugged his coat back on and followed Tannaz across the leaf-strewn ground, where the snowflakes were having a hard time settling. After four or five minutes, the dark shape of a parked German car appeared out of the gloom.
Tannaz and Savage edged as close as they dared, then hid behind a tree, watched and waited. In the darkness it was difficult to tell whether anyone was in the car or not. Tannaz slotted her phone into her jacket. It was of no use now.
She nudged Savage and pointed to her wrist as if she were wearing a watch, and mouthed the words, ‘How long?’
They’d only just begun to observe the car and she was already getting cold and impatient.
At that moment they heard a clunk, then several more clunks. All four car doors opened. Savage could make out the small unmistakable silhouette of Archie, and three huge figures, presumably Wellington’s men. They gently closed their doors and headed into the forest, a cone of torchlight spread out in front of them, lighting their way.
Tannaz went to follow. Savage held her back. He wanted a large enough gap to open up before they went after them. In a forest in the dark, the old cliché of stepping on a branch and signalling one’s position was a very real threat.
He turned to her and whispered. “They’ve got a light, makes them easy to follow so we can afford to hang back, reduce the risk of detection. From now on, no talking and you stay right behind me, single file. Okay? You do whatever I do. If I stop, you stop. If I dive on the ground, you dive on the ground, okay?”
“I said I wouldn’t be lying in dirt, but okay.”
“Good, let’s go.”
Up ahead the light from the torch reduced to a flicker. In the blackness of the forest it stood out like the brightest sun. Savage and Tannaz moved towards it using slow deliberate steps, carefully picking their way between tree trunks. The ground was damp and mulchy in between, the layers of decaying leaves soaking up their footsteps. Never gaining on the torchlight and never letting it get too far away, they carried on like this for about twenty minutes, the forest becoming thicker and thicker around them.
Then they saw it.
The single torchlight became two, then three, then four and finally five.
There were a group of other people up ahead. Archie and Wellington’s men had rendezvoused with someone, but who and why? What they hell would anyone be doing in the deepest part of the New Forest, in the darkness, in the early hours of a freezing April morning?
Nothing good.
Savage slowed almost to a dawdle. Tannaz shunted into the back of him. They had to go dead slow now. Tales of night patrols marching unaware into enemy encampments had been drilled into him throughout his training. Their targets had torches but that didn’t mean they didn’t have other people out here, guarding what they were doing, unseen.
Voices drifted towards them, filtering between the trees. They were hushed, little more than whispers. Completely unintelligible. Savage needed to find out what they were saying, it was the only way to make sense of what was happening up ahead.
Tannaz and Savage pushed on, cautiously, daring to get ever closer to the strange meeting. They now moved from tree to tree, using each one as temporary cover before they felt it was safe to move to the next. Painfully slowly, they advanced on the group of people, beams of yellow light from their torches throwing sinister shapes against the trees. The voices were clearer now. Definitely men’s. Savage still couldn’t hear what they were saying. From the tone, the best he could deduce was that some discussion was going on. It sounded like the way that people speak when they are organising something. Not threatening, but their voices had purpose and direction.
Suddenly the voices stopped.
Savage and Tannaz froze behind the tree they’d been using for cover. Had they been discovered? Surely not. They were still too far away. And the sound of the men’s chatter had been loud enough to mask any insignificant noises they had been making.
A heavy silence grew around them. Eerie and unsettling, it felt like the forest didn’t want them there. That they were trespassing and night-time in this place wasn’t meant for people.
The silence ended abruptly.
Rapid heavy steps. A thundering stampede approaching.
Horses? Could be. Or more likely, ponies. They roamed free in the forest.
Tannaz, spooked by the sound, went to make a run for it. Savage grabbed her jacket and pulled her back. If it was a stampede she’d be far safer behind a tree.
Louder and louder the footsteps came, until the sound was deafening.
The ground shook.
The urge to run, a primal instinct, was overwhelming. Savage held Tannaz tightly. He could feel her shaking.
Just when it seemed the din could get no louder, the stampede charged past, inches from them. A frenzied dash, forcing the still air into a breeze as it passed, swirling snowflakes everywhere. The tree behind them the only thing preventing them from being trampled flat.
But this stampede wasn’t made of cattle, it was made of men.
Chapter 33
Glancing left and right, Savage caught sight of a blur of men sprinting either side of the tree they hid behind. Running as if the forest itself were on fire. Dozens of them, barging past.
In the dim light, there was something odd about how they ran. Unnatural and ungainly. It was too dark to make out what it was until one of the runners hit a tree, only metres away from where Tannaz and Savage stood. The man hit his forehead hard against the trunk and fell onto his back, almost at their feet, his head nearly close enough to nudge with their toes. Close enough for the fallen man to look up and see them standing above him.
The man writhed around on the floor, attempting to get up. He never saw Savage or Tannaz. He was blindfold; a thick, white handkerchief, tightly tied over his eyes. A scrape of blood just above it, where he’d bashed his head on the tree.
He scrabbled around like a tortoise on his back, taking far too long to get up. Savage thought he might still be dazed. That wasn’t the reason. As he struggled to get to his feet like a newborn lamb, Savage realised the man’s hands were tied behind his back.
Once up, he rejoined the other runners, following the sound of their feet.
As the last few stragglers ran past, Savage could see they were all blindfold with their hands tied behind them.
The manic footsteps subsided and the forest returned to silence.
In the darkness, Tannaz and Savage stared at each other in shock.
Savage quickly regained his senses. They needed to get out of there. They’d nearly been caught, and if the men in that bizarre ritual, or whatever it was, hadn’t been wearing blindfolds the alarm would’ve been raised, and they’d have been outnumbered. Staying any longer would only increase their chances of discovery.
Savage pulled Tannaz by the arm and led her back to the car, taking a wide arc away from the torchlight and the runners. Every so often he would stop and listen, checking they weren’t being followed or that another strange human stampede wasn’t suddenly going to come crashing past. All the way they maintained complete silence, even though Savage wanted to discuss what they’d just witnessed and what the hell it all meant.
Taking a wider route back took them longer but
ensured they returned to Savage’s VW van without being detected. They got in. Savage started the engine and reversed it out of the dense foliage and back onto the road. Tannaz immediately put the heater on full, and put her hands over the vents to warm them up. Savage hit the accelerator and pointed the van back towards Southampton.
When he was clear of Bolderwood and back onto the A35, he flicked his headlights on.
“What the hell was all that about?” he asked. “That is the weirdest thing I think I’ve ever seen.”
“I think I know what it was,” said Tannaz.
Savage nearly crashed the car. “You do?”
“Yes. I’ve seen it before.”
“What? Where?”
Tannaz rubbed her hands together, trying to get some heat into them. “Have you seen a film called Intacto?”
“Is this one of your arty-type films?”
“Kind of. It’s Spanish, and it’s brilliant, by the way. Pull over somewhere and I’ll show you, then tell me what you think.”
Savage drove until they were safely within Southampton’s city limits, found a twenty-four-hour garage, and bought them tea and coffee from a machine inside. They took them back to the van parked on the forecourt. When Tannaz had warmed up she searched YouTube on her phone, found the trailer, then propped up her phone on the dashboard and hit play.
Three seconds into the trailer and there it was. The scene they’d just witnessed. Men running a race blindfolded through a forest, their hands tied behind their backs. A carbon copy of what they had just experienced, right down to one of the men running straight into a tree. The trailer continued. Savage recognised the famous actor Max Von Sydow, popping up and making various threats, interspersed with people playing Russian roulette and running across motorways, and a melodramatic voiceover. The last scene returned to Max Von Sydow, who was obviously the bad guy. He said, “If you’re ready, it’s time to play.” Then the word Intacto blazed across the screen.
Savage gave a sigh. “So some guys have got together and re-enacted a scene from an obscure Spanish film.”
“It’s a great film and it’s about people who can steal luck. Make themselves luckier than anyone else.”
