by Mark Stewart
CLAIRE WOKE to the sound of a single gunshot. She was lying face up in total darkness. She sniffed the air.
“Petrol,” she whispered.
She started to feel around the space she’d been dumped into. Even though she heard muffled voices, the words were undecipherable.
Hearing another bang and the vehicle’s engine roar to life, she was tumbled about her coffin for only a short time before silence returned. She heard approaching footsteps. She heard a click. The lid of her coffin opened. For a moment, she lay looking up into the eyes of her kidnapper.
“Get out,” ordered the mouth behind the balaclava.
“Make me.”
Patrick revealed a loaded crossbow. He aimed it directly at her leg.
“You think you’re so brave. Get out, or I’ll shoot you.”
Claire stared through narrow slits. She held up her hands and started to climb out of the car’s trunk.
“Move real slow, Coppa.”
The moment her feet touched the pea stones, she paused. For her hesitation, she received a kick to the calf muscle. She winced at the pain. Re-focusing on her smirking captor, she snarled.
“I heard a gunshot. Who’d you kill?”
“Shut up. Start walking. Thank me, you’re still alive.”
“Killer with a conscience!” quoted Claire.
Patrick shoved his hostage between her shoulder blades.
“I’ve no conscience, now move.”
Claire started to walk towards the old two-storey house. The loose stone path crunched under her feet. She stumbled.
“I need to rest. I have a sore calf muscle.”
“Keep moving. Take the left path. It leads to the kitchen door. No tricks.”
Claire obeyed, exaggerating a limp. The pea stones gave way to a narrow path. She glanced at the trees framing the property.
“Don’t get any ideas about running. The trees are too far. Be warned, you can’t outrun an arrow fired from a crossbow,” snarled Patrick, shoving her again. “Stop at the back steps and knock.”
Claire’s shoulders slumped. She restarted her walk. She climbed the three wooden steps. Reaching out, she knocked. Patrick stepped backwards so the darkness could swallow him. Someone came running and pulled open the door.
“Claire, hi, where’s Al?”
She tried to send Kendal’s wife a warning by rolling her eyes.
“Get inside the house,” yelled Patrick, emerging from the shadows.
He marched up to Claire and again shoved her between her shoulder blades. Both women landed on the kitchen floor. Patrick stood in the doorway, smirking.
“Ladies, good evening,” he announced.
Claire jumped to her feet, spun around and kicked out.
“Don’t make another move. This crossbow and gun is pointed at both of you.”
Marg scrambled to her feet, grabbing Claire by the shoulder.
“You’re no help to us dead,” she stated.
“Both of you sit on a chair. I’ll say a warning; be good. The kid and the old dear, where are they? I’ve some news the old duck might find interesting.”
“There’s no one else here,” advised Margaret.
“I don’t believe you.” Patrick stared hard and long at each of the ladies in turn. “This is a good game. Be warned, I will win. Tani, Grandma, come out, come out where ever you are.”
Patrick paced back and forth across the room, waiting for their arrival. Growing bored at having to wait too long he swayed his gun back and forth between the two hostages.
“This is indeed a good game. Tani, Grandma, if I haven’t seen you by the time I count to three, I’m going to shoot someone.”
“There’s no one else here,” insisted Marg.
“One, two, three,” called Patrick.
“We’re here,” croaked Grandma, from the room adjacent to the kitchen.
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears. She bowed her head.
Patrick leapt into the air, clapping and yelping.
“Yes, yes, Grandma is here and Tani too. Don’t cry mummy, don’t cry. By the time your husband finally uncovers the remaining clues I’ve left and he arrives, you’ll all be dead.” Patrick checked his watch. “He’s going to be late. He’s so dumb. I did everything, except tell him my identity. Didn’t I tell you I’d win? Victory is a fantastic adrenalin rush. You should try it some time.”
“Tegan told me on the phone who you are. When my dad gets here, he’s going to arrest you,” barked Tani.
Patrick pointed the gun at her. “Brave Tani, brave, stupid little Tani. Shut up.”
Margaret moved her feet.
“Don’t move. If Tani is correct, and she might be, it doesn’t matter. If you want to say anything to the person upstairs, you have forty-five minutes. In fifty minutes, the fire will eat you all.”
“Take off your balaclava,” jeered Claire.
“No.”
“Why not, we all know your identity?”
“I don’t want to.” Patrick threw a small black bag at Marg. “Open it. Inside the bag, you’ll find four lengths of rope; very strong rope. Tie everyone’s hands by their sides. Make sure you do it real tight, especially the cop woman.”
Patrick stood watching, making sure each rope was secure. Checking his watch, he grinned.
“Forty minutes remaining.”
Patrick swiped a length of rope from the bag and tied Marg.
“You don’t have to do this,” said Claire.
“Yes, I do. Everyone, walk towards the stairs,” instructed Patrick.
The group trudged upstairs. Patrick opened the first door on their right.
“Welcome to the last thing you’ll ever see in this world. Why this small square room you ask? As you can see, there’s nothing in it. No carpet, no bed, no coat hangers in the cupboard, nothing. I want to personally thank you, Grandma, for cleaning out the room in the hope Kendal would start painting.”
“Why are you doing this?” asked Marg.
Patrick glared at the group through murderous eyes.
“You don’t have a clue.”
“I thought we were playing a fire game?” questioned Claire.
“We are. Kendal changed the rules. Now it’s more interesting. You should all be excited. You’re the best game ever.”
“You’re about to be stopped. Your arson days are over.”
“Calm yourself, Detective. They’ve put the best up to me. I have to boast, I’ve won every time.”
“I’ve a question.”
“Questions, questions, questions what is it about cops? All you ever do is to ask stupid questions.”
“I have a right to know why you smuggled me out of the hospital; I’m not a Kendal?”
“My dear Detective, you’re the door prize for winning my game.”
“You’ve got me, let the others go.”
Patrick commenced pacing the floor, chanting, ‘Typical cop, so heroic,’ over and over. On his umpteenth return trip, he stopped and pointed the gun at Ambroso.
“Shut up Coppa. I’ll be glad to be rid of you.” Patrick switched his attention to Tani. “Come here.”
“No,” she squealed.
“You should reconsider your decision.”
“You can’t take her,” cried Marg.
“Don’t ever tell me what to do. I told Kendal, my last fire was going to be the grand finale. This is it. Tani, if you come now, I promise you won’t be hurt.”
“Liar,” she yelled.
“Kid, you’re too smart for your own good.” He raised both arms in surrender. “Okay, okay, you win. You can stay.”
Marg’s shoulders slumped. Claire looked sideways at their captor. Patrick walked out of the room and locked the door.
Grandma leaned her back against the wall, trembling in fear. “We’re all about to die.”
“We’ll be fine. Al will be here soon,” explained Claire.
“He’s not lurking around outside?” whispered Marg.
“No.
However, I’m certain he’s not far behind.”
“How can he be?” quizzed the old woman. “You heard Patrick, Kendal doesn’t know about all this.”
“He knows. Don’t worry; Al’s on his way.”
Hearing the door unlocking, the group watched it being pushed open. Patrick stood at the threshold holding a hammer in one hand. In the other, he held a thin one-metre squared wooden board.
“What are you up to?” demanded Claire.
Patrick ignored the question, flanked wide of the group and walked to the window. He placed the board over the glass and nailed it to the window frame. When he finished, he stepped back to admire his handy work.
“Tani, I’ve a present. Catch. I thought you might like it. The pink cloth smells great.”
Tani raised the cloth to her nose and breathed in. Claire yelled. The girl fell to the floor unconscious.
Patrick snickered. He casually walked over. Picking her up, he carried Tani towards the door. Staring at the three ladies, he announced.
“Say goodbye to the kid.”
“Please, don’t take my baby,” wept Marg. “Please.”
“If your husband arrives before time, she’ll be fine.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“It’ll be too gruesome a scene to describe. Before I go, I nearly forgot to mention the news. Grandma, your hubby’s dead.”
Patrick walked out of the room and locked the door.
“You murderer,” yelled Grandma. “If I could get free, I’d belt him in the jaw.”
“You and me both,” whimpered Marg. She burst into uncontrollable sobs. She thrashed about the floor, trying to break her bonds.
“It’s okay,” soothed Claire. “Al won’t let anything happen to Tani. She’s part of his stupid game. Wait and see, tonight will work out fine.”
Marg looked up. Slowly she managed to stop sobbing. The constant worry painted deep wrinkles on her brow.
“Thank goodness the nursing home informed us this morning about dad’s passing.”
“They didn’t say someone murdered him,” choked Grandma.
“It’s time to escape,” announced Claire. She sent Marg a confident look. “In case Al is delayed.”
She strained against the ropes wrapped around her torso. She exhaled a long sigh, depleting her lungs of all oxygen. She seemed to shrink. When she felt, the rope loosen she got to work. She managed to free a finger. Her thumb came next. Her hand slipped out. Her fingers pulled at the rope’s knot. She repeated her breathing technique, winked at Marg and again attacked the knot. It loosened. In seconds, she unraveled the rope.
Grandma and Marg wore a disbelieving look at the escape.
Claire fell to the floor to heave in oxygen.
“Are you okay?” asked Marg.
“Yes. I’ll sit here in the corner for a moment.” She took a few more deep breaths. “Just before you tied the rope around me I puffed my body out to make the rope look as though it was tight.”
“Dangerous thing to do,” said Marg.
“Yes, however, it was worth it. All we have to do is break through the boarded-up window. If Al’s not here by then, I’ll rescue Tani.”
Claire untied Marg and Grandma. She walked to the door and pushed her ear against the solid wooden panel. Hearing nobody walking about she marched across the room to the boarded-up window.
“What does this window look out on?”
“The pool,” reported Marg.
“How deep is the water?”
“Six feet,” advised Grandma. “You’re not suggesting we jump.”
“It’s a good solid plan,” said Marg. “Just like when we first started high school. Only thing is; I don’t think I’d be up to jumping into the pool either.”
“I’d never place you or Grandma in such a dangerous position. I’ll jump, find Patrick and bring him down.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to break the door?” asked Grandma.
“This house is old. The doors are made of solid wood. Too much noise might also alert Patrick. Our best bet is the window.” Looking slightly nervous, she hesitated. “I wonder where Kendal is. He should have been here ages ago?”
“Al knows what’s happening and is meeting you here?”
“This is all part of his plan. Don’t worry. Like I said before, everything will be okay.” Claire turned her back on the others, scrunched her nose and mumbled. “I hope his plan works.”
Claire grabbed the bottom left-hand corner of the three-ply board covering the window. She yanked. Hearing the board creak, she tried again.
The wood strained against the nails. She stepped back to study each of the four edges of the window. Two edges were flush; the other two weren’t.
“This is the best spot to break the board,” she announced.
Reaching out she again pulled the thin board. She heard another crack. On her fifth attempt, the edge of the board broke away, revealing the glass. Claire dug her fingers further behind the wood. One massive pull and two nails loosened. On her next attempt, the wood broke. Grinning, she looked at Marg.
“This brings back memories of us breaking into our primary school when we were students. Remember, you’d play the principle I’d sit at my desk pretending to be naughty. You’d scribble on the blackboard then we’d play chasey down the empty corridors.”
“I remember being chased by the cleaner. The old bloke threatened to have us kicked out of school if he ever caught us,” said Marg.
“Our friendship goes back a long way, Eh?” said Claire.
“Sorry Mum,” said Marg, walking to the door. “I never did tell you what we got up to as kids.”
The old woman scrunched her wrinkled face. In a proud voice, she said confidently.
“I knew. The cleaner told the Mother Superior. She phoned me. I needed to smooth things over if once was a dozen times. I told that woman, you two would eventually grow up and stop your shenanigans. What a Nun knows about children is beyond me.”
Claire chuckled. Staring at the board, she started attacking it again. Half of the board was on the floor when she yelled in pain. “I got a bloody splinter.”
Marg stopped listening at the door, walked over and studied her hand.
“The splinter isn’t too deep. Make a fist so I can push on both sides of the splinter. Mum, you’ve got long fingernails grab the splinter when it comes up.”
Seconds later, all three-stared wide-eyed at the size of the bloody splinter sitting in the palm of the old woman’s hand.
“My turn,” said Marg. “Besides, I have to escape, now. I want to find Tani. We’ve been in this room for too long.”
Several struggling minutes later, Claire waved her hand to call a halt to their escape attempt. She broke the glass and stared through the window.
“Marg turn off the light.”
“This way’s no good, the pool’s too far. The next room would’ve been perfect,” grumbled Claire.
While the ladies were breaking through the window, Patrick carried Tani towards the lake. They exited the tree line at the bike path. He changed direction and walked the short distance to the boat hire shed. He made a quick survey of the area. Seeing no one, he placed the girl into a sitting position by leaning her back against the shed wall. Standing, he removed his balaclava. Patrick produced two brass keys from his coat pocket and thrust them at her face.
“You want to know what they’re for, don’t you? Watch this.” Patrick slipped the first key into the bottom door lock.
The key refused to turn.
“Kid, stop laughing. Do you hear me? Stop it.”
Patrick tried the top lock. It snapped open. Sighing heavily, he attacked the bottom lock.
“Who is laughing now, Tani? I was here two months ago disguised as an old man. I copied the keys and stole the code to the shed’s alarm.”
Tani groaned. She half opened her eyes.
“Go back to sleep little one. The game’s not over yet.” Patrick sprinted inside the boa
t shed and tapped the numbers 7743 on the alarm pad. “Tani, this is all too easy.”
On his first trip, Patrick dragged a small one-man yacht to the water line. On the second trip, he grabbed two oars, an anchor and dragged another yacht to the water line. After resetting the alarm pad, he relocked the door.
Patrick placed Tani into the first yacht. He walked behind the boat shed towards a dead tree where the scrub had been mounded up. He kicked away the debris and found a small blue bag. Swiping up the bag, he carried the bag to the yachts and placed the bag at the feet of the sleeping girl.
“Kid, look after the bag while I drag your boat out there on the lake. What did you say? You’ll come for a ride, only if I tell you what’s in the bag and how long ago I buried it?” Patrick snickered. “You’re just like your father, always asking questions. I’ll tell you only if you promise to keep it a secret. Do you agree to my terms?” He reached out his hand and forced the sleeping girl to nod. “I buried the bag after I watched your father leave you and your mother here to look after Grandma. I insist the contents of the bag must stay a surprise. What I will tell you, is, it goes bang at exactly 10:00pm.”
Quickly tethering Tani’s boat to the rear of his boat, Patrick rowed out on the lake. One hundred feet from land, Patrick swiped up the anchor and lowered the weight into the dark water. He watched the rope tighten. A cold breeze blew across the lake, forcing Tani’s yacht to strain against its tether. Patrick studied the sky. The stars were blinking out one at a time. He re-focused on the sleeping girl.
“I hope your father is in Grandma’s house before the storm arrives. I don’t want the rain to extinguish the fire before the house has a chance to implode and bury him and everyone else. Whatever you do, don’t move.”
Dipping his oars into the water, Patrick waved Tani goodbye and struck out for the boat hire shed.
Back on shore, Patrick hid the second yacht under a clump of tree branches. A last look at the boat on the lake, he sprinted back to the house. In preparing for the fire, he collected an armful of dry kindling and stacked the wood pyramid style in the center of the lounge room.
“Another step in my plan completed,” he whispered.
Patrick walked outside to Dr. Clarke’s car to collect two, four-litre metal containers full of petrol. Returning to the house, he noticed the bedroom where he put the hostages was in darkness. He entered the kitchen and deliberately left the door open a tad.
“Please reconsider what you are doing,” said a voice.
Patrick turned so he could face the kitchen door. “Hey Doc, I thought I left you asleep in the car?”
“You did. I woke when you came for the fuel cans.”
“You’re not going to give me another lecture, are you?”
“No. Where’s Tani?” asked Dr. Ashlee Clarke.
“She’s sleeping in a small yacht in the middle of the lake. Provided she stays asleep; she’ll be fine.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Me too, she’s my plan B. Must always have a plan B.” Patrick started to chant and pace the floor.
“Will you please stop,” hissed Dr. Clarke. “Stop your pacing right now. Your chanting upsets me. You sound crazy when you chant.”
Patrick wagged a finger in the air. “Don’t ever say I’m crazy.”
Dr. Clarke covered her face with her hands. She started sobbing.
“Come on. We’ll finish setting the petrol trails together. It’ll be fun to watch the fire fingers stretch over the house. I love hearing the fire roar, devouring everything.”
Ashlee Clarke lifted her head.
“I have to admit, it is exciting,” whispered Dr. Clarke. “Patrick, what’s next?”
“You stand here in the kitchen. I have to go and check on the prisoners. I think they’re gotten loose.” Patrick turned to leave. He took two steps before facing Ashlee. “Hey, while I’m gone, ring Kendal on the mobile phone.”
“Why?”
“To find out where he is.”
Patrick walked down the hall, marched up the stairs, pulled the Smith and Wesson from his back pocket and produced a key to the small room. He inserted the key into the lock. The door lock clicked. Reaching out he swung the door open.
He stood at the threshold to the room, staring at the pieces of board scattered across the floor. Two women, fear etched on their faces, were cowering in the corner near the window.
“Where’s the other one?” growled Patrick.
“She climbed out of the window,” whimpered Marg.
“I don’t believe you. She’s still here. Where is she?”
“Come and see for yourself,” suggested Marg. “Claire shimmied down the storm water pipe. She’s looking up at the window, laughing at you.”
“There’s no downpipe next to the window. She must have jumped. Tell me the truth or Tani dies.”
Marg remained quiet.
“I’ve placed your daughter and a bomb in a small yacht one hundred feet off shore. She has no way of escaping.”
Marg stared at Patrick and kept up her silence.
Patrick sighed and pulled a small black box from a pocket. “This is a remote detonator.”
Marg remained tight-lipped. Patrick stared at her, watching him.
“This is a good game. You play your hand and try to bluff. I don’t bluff; I play to win.”
He placed the black box on the floor. Using his shoe, he pushed a button on the box. A green light lit.
“The timer is now set. Tani has one minute. At exactly 10:00pm, she will be dead.”
Patrick pushed hard on the door, slamming it against something soft. He stepped into the room and banged the door closed. Grabbing Claire by the arm, he threw her towards the window. She hit the wall and crumpled to the floor.
“Your little surprise wasn’t good enough, Coppa.” He pointed to Marg. “You; tie her, and the old woman up. This time, make the rope nice and tight.”
“What about my daughter?” Marg sobbed.
“Tuff; you shouldn’t have kept silent. Kendal should have arrived on time. Tani life will end in ten seconds. Watch the window; the explosion will be a blast.”
Claire, Marg, and Grandma crowded around the window watching the lake. They could barely make out the small yacht on the surface.
“Please, Tani is just a child,” wept Marg.
“She’s a Kendal,” growled Patrick. “Five seconds.”
Claire squared herself to Patrick. “How could you murder a child?”
“Easy, I don’t care.”
“I’ll do anything you want, just allow Tani to live.”
“One second,” barked Patrick.
Out on the lake, the three women witnessed an explosion. The fireball mushroomed into the dark sky. Embers fell like rain.
“Marg, I’m telling you, Tani jumped into the water,” whispered Claire. She watched her best friend crumple to the floor.
“You’re a rat,” yelled Marg, staring up at Patrick. “How could you kill a child?” Sobbing, she strained against her ropes.
Patrick started pacing the floor. Using tight fists, he began hitting his balaclava.
“I hate kids, especially Kendal’s.”
“Why do you hate us so? We’ve done nothing to you.”
He sprinted for the sobbing woman. Scraping her nose against the woolen balaclava, he glared at his hostage through cold blue eyes.
“You’ve hurt me. Blame your dear husband over Tani’s death. It’s his fault.”
“Whatever he did, I’m certain it was an accident,” spat Grandma.
In the distraction, Claire saw her chance to escape. Patrick pounced on the old woman. Grabbing her by the cardigan, he reeled her in close.
“The Doc told me the same stupid line. Be warned; I don’t care. Kendal broke the rules. Now he must pay.”
“What rules?” probed Marg.
“The club’s rules,” hissed Patrick. “Don’t touch a dancer.”
“What dancers, when?” Marg’s voice sound
ed desperate.
“Take off your mask,” dared the old woman.
Patrick dropped her on the floor. He laughed a deep throated gargle.
“Not today. I’ve messed around long enough. It’s time.”
“Time for what?” barked Claire.
Patrick casually walked towards the open door. Reaching outside into the hall he snatched up a metal container, unscrewed the lid and sniffed the contents.
“I love the smell of petrol.”
Grinning wildly, he proceeded to splash the liquid on the walls and the floor.
“Ladies, it’s been a pleasure. I’d love to stay and chat. However, Detective Kendal should be here soon. He’s typically late. Maybe my little explosion on the lake killed two Kendal’s.” He sighed. “I do love to win my games.”
“If we’re about to die you should have the decency of giving us a last meal,” yelled Claire, still straining against her ropes.
Patrick glared at each of the three women.
“Ladies it’s been a real pleasure, goodbye.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
