Josh shrugged, ‘Thought it was just the ordinary flu jab.’
‘You were supposed to think that.’
Josh nodded. ‘So what’s my job?’
‘You’re to stay here. We need faces that they recognise about the place, in case they become suspicious.’
‘Can’t we just blow the bastards up while we have them en masse?’
‘But we haven’t, have we? What we have here are mostly families, the deluded fools who think they’re still in charge.’
‘So why haven’t the agents got rid of them? It makes sense.’
‘Because a good portion of the agents are family-loyal, and it helps to have a scapegoat if word finally gets out that most of the human race have been slaves for centuries. Imagine what would happen.’
‘Phew, the mind boggles. They would need to invent a new name for chaos.’ Josh bent down and carefully snapped off a snow-white rose. After smelling its perfume, he placed it in his lapel.
‘Exactly,’ Tony said, when he had Josh’s full attention again.
‘It’s still hard to take in that they’ve gotten away with it for so long.’
‘Have they, though?’
Josh raised his eyebrows. Hmm. This is interesting, he thought.
But just then Tony’s phone rang, Taking it out of his pocket, he looked at caller ID and said, ‘I’ve got to take this call, OK? We’ll talk some more later.’ With a nod he turned and, phone to his ear, walked deeper into the garden, leaving Josh desperate to know the rest of the history of the lives he’d become entangled with.
NORTHUMBERLAND
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gripping the wheel tightly, Kristina ploughed on. She jumped slightly when spray started hitting the side windows with force, praying that it wasn’t anywhere near the engine. She stared intently in front of her, actually picturing herself battling to swim in the rough sea. A good swimmer she was not, a couple of lengths was about the best she could manage without stopping for a rest. Against these crashing waves she wouldn’t stand a chance.
With the windscreen wipers on full, she tried to push the images out of her mind as the car gamely moved forward. She tried hard to push the thought away that she was in a situation which made her totally helpless.
Suddenly, she gasped out loud. Is that the end of the causeway coming up?
‘Oh, please God,' she muttered. 'I’m gonna make it.’
Excitement flooded through her veins as suddenly, with no warning, she was clear. The car, free of the restraints of the powerful sea, jumped forward. Kristina slammed on the brakes, but the car just kept on gathering speed. In seconds she went from elation to horror. Heart firmly in her mouth, she rammed the car into second gear and pumped madly on the brake.
At last, after what seemed forever and at breakneck speed, she felt the brakes grip and the car begin to slow down. Trembling, Kristina heaved a sigh of relief as, regaining control, she drove past the car park and down the main street. Turning left, and again left into Sandham Lane, she came to a stop outside Aunt May’s cottage.
For a moment, she hugged the wheel. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, and knowing just how lucky she had been, she slipped out of the car and carefully, still trying to be as quiet as she could, closed the door. Noticing how far up the water had come, she shook her head in disbelief. No wonder the brakes wouldn’t work properly.
Jesus!
She would never be so lucky again.
Going up the path, she could smell Aunt May’s clematis. For a moment it felt as if a little bit of Aunt May was watching over her. She knocked on the door, waited a moment before knocking again although her instinct seemed to be telling her the house was empty.
‘Where are you Aunt May?’ she muttered.
Bending down, and with a bit of a struggle, she moved the third plant pot from the right, which was full of purple pansies. Underneath was the front door key.
A minute later she was inside and heading for the kitchen. She desperately needed a cup of tea, before she sat down and analysed everything that had happened in the last hour.
While the kettle boiled, and with shaking hands, knowing she was close to exhaustion, she tried to get out of her mind the picture of the man's thumb landing at his feet, shaking her head in amazement at the thought. That sort of thing you could never plan in a lifetime!
Thanks Grandma! she thought, as yet another picture of her grandmother sharpening the blade entered her mind.
‘About time an’ all,’ she sighed a moment later, smacking her lips in anticipation as she dropped a tea bag into a pink mug covered with tiny white daisies. She poured the water in and found the sugar in the top cupboard. Knowing, by the way her hand was still shaking, that she was probably in shock, she put three teaspoons in the mug, and a dash of milk. Then she went through into the sitting room, thinking, at last - a flaming cup of tea.
Switching the light on with her elbow as she passed the switch, she looked around. Nothing at all had changed since that last time she had been in here. There were flowers everywhere. She smiled, remembering the first time she’d met Aunt May. It had been winter, but she had smelled of flowers, and the house had been full of them. With a sigh, Kristina sat down.
She had been staring down at the carpet. When she looked up, and halfway through the cup of tea she had been dying for, for what seemed like ages now, she saw an envelope on the mantelpiece that she hadn’t noticed before, propped up against one of Aunt May’s ornaments. The scrawl on the front looked like her name. Squinting, she tried to make it out, but in the end had to get up.
It was addressed to her. Puzzled, she quickly tore it open. Inside there was a single sheet of paper, with ten words on it.
'Go and visit an old friend with a beard. NOW.' The final word had been heavily inked in.
‘What the...?’ It was the capitals that worried her. And what old friend with a beard?
Jesus, Aunt May!
NORWICH
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Fools, nothing but fools, the whole fucking lot of them, Tarasov thought, as he entered the lift and angrily slapped the number that would take him to his floor.
Got a good mind to go home and leave them to it!
He knew, though, that was something he could not do. He had to keep the pretence up a little longer. Make too many waves and the whole barbaric lot would turn on him, and all would be lost.
Lovilla, even though he had half expected it - scratch that, even though he’d known it - had been a big disappointment. Just like her mother had. She’d thrown her lot in with the fools who thought things could go on like they had centuries ago. He would deal with her later. One way or another he would make her see her mistake. But the fool he called son!
By the time the lift stopped, his fury had built to an all-time high. With clenched fists, he stormed along the corridor. As he was passing another lift, the doors opened and a young woman pushed a trolley full of clean towels into the corridor, just missing him.
Ella’s heart jumped into her throat when she realised who she had nearly pushed the trolley into.
Oh my God. She froze for a moment, Please just let him walk on past… please God.
Tarasov glared at Ella and snapped, ‘Clumsy, clumsy fool! I’ll not forget this. Thank your lucky stars, peasant, I’ve got other things on my mind.’
As Ella stared after him, her heart still pounding, he carried on down the corridor, pausing for a moment outside a door close to his. He touched the 'Do Not Disturb' sign, before turning back to Ella, who swallowed hard.
‘Make sure this sign is observed, or it’s you I’ll be looking for, understand?’
She nodded and uttered a meek, ’Yes, sir,’ although inside she was seething and wanted nothing more than to actually kill him.
So what or who the hell is in there? she thought, as she knocked discreetly on number ten, who had asked for fresh towels for the third time today. The door was opened by a scowling young woman with long black hair and a matching
black eye, who held out her hands for the towels.
Ella placed a matching pair of powder blue bath towels into the waiting hands, wanting to say, 'There’s help nearby if you want it', but knowing that could quite easily jeopardise everything. Sometimes these women, little more than slaves, had been so brainwashed that they would go running to their masters at the slightest whisper of someone against them. She had seen it again and again. Hadn’t she been in the same position herself? That was, until she woke up and realised that there was a different life, and if she couldn’t live it, well, better be dead than the life she was living. She’d heard the rumour, taken the chance, and here she was.
Fighting back!
I’ll keep my eye on her, see how it plays out. For now I need to get back downstairs and let Coral know about the locked room, as well as the grand master plan that was brewing.
Quickly she handed the towels over and made her way back to the lift, noting the door number before she left. She would keep her eye on the goings on in there, in case there was the slightest hint that the woman could be rescued.
Back downstairs, she said she was nipping out for a smoke before knocking off time. They weren’t allowed to smoke in the hotel. That pleasure was for families only. Figuring themselves above the law, they smoked wherever they wanted to. Once outside, she wandered over to the old wishing well, carefully looking around to make sure she wasn’t being observed, but knowing the need to be very careful. Just because she couldn’t see anyone didn’t mean that there wasn’t someone there watching. She dropped her lighter on the far side, away from the windows. Pretending to search for it, she prised a brick loose and pulled out a mobile phone. Quickly she dialled a number and, still on her hands and knees, put the phone to her ear.
Within moments it was answered by Coral. Ella quickly told her of the locked room. The rest she would tell her when she got back, there was no time now.
‘Hmm, interesting. It could of course be full of fresh slaves,’ Coral said. ‘Do what you can to find out without putting yourself in danger. Your post there is too important to lose.’
‘Will do.’ Ella switched off immediately. The less time on the phone, the harder it was to trace.
With the phone tucked in her sleeve, and smoking her cigarette, she walked a further fifty yards and stubbed her cigarette out on an old tree trunk, dropping the phone into a hole in the trunk, knowing that it was too dark for anyone from the hotel to see at this distance. She pushed the piece of loose bark back over the hole and, hands in her pockets, casually sauntered back to the hotel.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The sun was just starting its long crawl up a pale pink sky as Aunt May walked down the path, with Brother David close behind and towering above her. It had been a long night, nearly a six-hour drive from Seahouses in Northumberland to this quiet, unassuming back street in Norwich.
Just before Aunt May reached the door, and as Brother David was stifling a yawn, the door opened. Aunt May was at once engulfed in a hug by a young woman whose large hazel eyes sparkled as she met Brother David’s eyes over Aunt May’s shoulder.
Her smile was so dazzling that, slightly confused by it, Brother David stepped back.
‘It’s so good to see you, Aunt May.’
‘And you too, my lovely Coral.’
Coral turned to Brother David. ‘And you must be big Mike. Wow, you never told me he was so gorgeous, Aunt May.’
The next minute she had her arms wrapped around Brother David, and planted a kiss firmly on his mouth. Leaning back, she looked into his eyes and winked.
‘Erm… I think you’ve put your bloody foot in it again, my dear,’ Aunt May laughed, and went on, ‘Bloody hell, Coral. This isn’t Mike, this is David. Brother David. He’s a monk.’
‘What! Oh, my God.’ Coral backed off. It was hard to tell who had the reddest face, her or Brother David, as she went on, ‘I’m so sorry, so sorry. I mean, you don’t look like any monk I’ve ever met.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Not that I’ve met many, that is.’
‘It, it’s fine…really, no harm done.’ Brother David held his hand out. He tried his best to ignore the delicious tingle he felt as they shook hands. With his other hand, just for something to do with it, he nervously fingered his jacket, as he went on, ‘You, er... you weren’t to know, um…were you.’
‘OK, again, I’m sorry. It, er... it won't happen again.’ This time Coral laughed, and pulled a face at Aunt May who was still grinning. ‘Kettles on, beds are ready. You will be wanting sleep, won’t you? Gotta be shattered after the drive down.’
‘I’m fine, napped nearly all the way, but Brother David drove most of the bloody night. I suspect he’ll need some shuteye.’ Aunt May raised her eyebrows as she looked at Brother David.
Still slightly embarrassed, Brother David nodded. ‘I’ll skip the tea, if you don’t mind.’
‘No bother,' Coral said.
By this time they were inside the house, and passing the door to the garden. ‘Your bedroom, Brother David, is upstairs, the first door on your right.’ Coral pointed up the stairs.
Brother David nodded and made for the stairs. He could hear her giggling to Aunt May, who was shushing her with a smile in her voice, as he reached the room. Quickly he opened the door and went in. The bed was a very welcoming sight.
Stripping his clothes off as he walked the half-dozen steps to the bed, he gratefully sank onto the comfortable mattress, and sighed. After a few minutes he turned over, praying for the sleep that, even though he was exhausted, was evading him.
He flopped onto his back for a few minutes, then onto his right side, then, with a big sigh, heaved his body back over to the other side. No good. He knew the reason why he couldn’t sleep. The image of the girl and the kiss would not leave his mind.
It had been a long time since he’d felt like this, in fact just before he’d joined the monastery. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly. Remembering one summer’s night after a local teenage party, and a particularly pretty blonde girl, he began to pray.
Downstairs Aunt May was sipping tea, with her feet up on a small red leather stool.
‘Bloody well needed that all right.’ She took another sip, then smacked her lips and said, ‘Come on then, Coral, fill me in.’
‘Right, sorry about the mix up.’ She grinned. ‘But the last news was Mike Yorke had gone AWOL. I assumed when you walked in with the brother in normal everyday clothes that you’d found him. I mean, he is dishy, isn’t he? What the hell did a gorgeous bloke like him want to become a monk for?’
‘Well, for question one, I do have. a good idea where Mike Yorke is being held.’
‘Oh?’
‘Not very far from here, actually.’
‘Let me guess.’
‘You already have. You see, Mike’s biological father is one of the families.’
‘No way!’
Aunt May nodded. ‘Yes. And as to question two, why the dishy Dave became a monk...’ She shrugged. ‘I have no idea. It sort of happened overnight. Why? You’ll have to ask him. So, a question for you now - who do we have slaving away in the Hotel California?’
Coral smiled. ‘You got that right, you can check in but you can never leave.’
Coral’s phone rang before she could answer Aunt May. She took the phone out of her pocket, looked at it and said, ’Gotta take this, Aunt May. It's Ella.’
Aunt May nodded.
A minute later, she put the phone away and looked at Aunt May. ‘That was Ella. She’s down at the hotel, and she reckons there’s a locked room. Mike Yorke, do you think?’
‘Definitely.’
Upstairs, Brother David, his faith sorely tested, continued to toss and turn.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Detective Inspector Mike Yorke held the gun and, slowly pointing it straight ahead, squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, three times he fired, but no one fell - well, no one that he could see in the thick fog that surrounded him. Slowly, his legs feeling as if he was s
truggling his way through waist-high mud, he moved forward towards the light. With each step, it grew brighter. He stepped through the last tendrils of fog, blinked, and opened his eyes to bright sunlight. He blinked again twice, then looked around.
No bodies, just a dream, he thought with relief, drawing air into his lungs then exhaling loudly.
‘Wherever the hell I am,’ he muttered a moment later, shaking his head, ‘I hope I’m not fucking paying for it.’
His eyes scoured the opulence of the room, from the thick red velvet curtains, the red carpet, which looked like he would sink in ankle deep if he was to stand on it, the real gold trimmings on the cream furniture, and finally resting on the gold back-to-back unicorns on the ceiling, which looked both solid and real gold. He finally gave into his thoughts, and the fact he’d been trying to dodge, that his right hand was handcuffed to the headboard.
He slumped, as everything that had happened last night flooded his mind. ‘No way,’ he muttered. ‘No fucking way is that bastard my father. Impossible!’
There’s gotta be a mistake.
Fucking hell.
He gave his arm a shake, and his heart sank further when he heard the rattle of metal on metal. Pulling himself up the bed until he was eye level with the cuffs, and seeing no way at all to free himself, he let his head fall back on the headboard and stared at the ceiling in deep despair.
His memory coming back, he remembered every punch, slap and kick he’d received yesterday.
So, he reasoned with a sinking heart, if he’s my father, then the twat who did this has got to be my brother.
No fucking way. Talk about the family from hell!
‘Or half-brother,’ he muttered. Looking down at his naked body, he expected to find a whole mess of bruising, but was surprised to see what looked like only shadows of bruises. He’d always had good healing skin, but this looked like he’d had the shit kicked out of him four or five days ago, not last night.
Holy Island Trilogy 03 - The Final Countdown Page 6
