by Dan Fletcher
Suddenly the tape gave way and Caitlyn’s lower arms were free. She was still stuck to the chair, by the loop of tape around her upper arms and breasts. Hunching her shoulders repeatedly, she was finally able to free her arms completely, and untied her ankles.
The circulation cut off for so long she found it hard to stand. Using the table to steady herself, she waited for the blood to return to her aching legs. Pulling the tape off her mouth stung like hell, and her head was throbbing. Vanessa was still struggling, and as soon as she was able she pulled the tape off her mouth.
‘Thank God!’ gasped Vanessa. ‘I thought that would never come off! Untie me please,’ she begged, trying to shuffle her chair around to help.
‘One minute. I’ll untie you in one minute,’ Caitlyn said, her voice scratchy. Her babies came first and she untied Lucy and then Rachel. Hugging them both fiercely and weeping as she did it. ‘Oh, my little darlings, are you OK? Let me take a look at you,’ she said, pulling their faces up towards her not really believing they were free.
‘Where did they take daddy?’ said Lucy, woefully. ‘They won’t hurt him will they mum?’ she pleaded with her eyes as well as her words.
‘He’ll be just fine love, don’t you worry. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Now go and get you coat and shoes. There’s a good girl. Rachel you too, help your sister with her laces please,’ she said, trying to instil a bit of normality on proceedings.
Eventually she got round to Vanessa. ‘Sorry it took so long love, there you go,’ she said softly, removing the last of the tape from Vanessa’s mid-rift. Finally all free they grouped together, hugging each other in sheer relief.
‘We better call the police!’ Vanessa said, breaking from the huddle and wiping the tears from her face as she remembered John. She looked around desperately for the telephone.
‘We can’t do that they’ll do what they said,’ whispered Caitlyn, to Vanessa, not wanting the girls to hear.
‘Well what are we going to do?’ said Vanessa, conjuring up the things they might be doing to John. ‘We can’t do nothing!’
‘That’s exactly what we are going to do! We are going to go round to my sisters and wait until we hear from them,’ Caitlyn said, with her hands on her hips and her chin thrust out.
Vanessa still thought that they should be calling the police, but getting out of this house was top of her ‘to-do’ list. She grabbed her coat from the rack near the door, and shouted, ‘Come on then. Let’s go!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
They were only in the room for a few minutes, when Patience came back, leaving Happy standing guard at the door. He grabbed Alan and rolled him face down on the bed.
‘What the fuck are you doing now?’ shouted Alan.
‘I need your keys, keep still,’ Patience said, searching him quickly.
‘I haven’t got any bloody keys,’ screamed Alan. Patience already knew this to be true and had turned to John.
‘They’re in my pocket,’ John said, indicating his right trouser leg. Patience delved forcefully into his pocket and tore the stitching as he yanked the keys out. John kept indignantly silent. Having completed his assignment Patience left the room, locking the door behind him. One of them went into the loo, they heard it flush and then he joined the other dampened voices next door.
‘You just gonna sit there and watch?’ said Alan. Having been thrown face down on the bed it was taking him some effort to get into a sitting position.
John was unable to assist, sitting on the opposite bed watching his friend struggle, ‘I would help. But I’m kind of tied up at the moment, you bloody idiot!’
Alan paused in his efforts, ‘Why are you calling me an idiot? You’re the one with the bad sense of humour.’
‘You couldn’t just leave the damn stuff there could you? Had to go and nick it didn’t you. You and your bloody ‘political refugees’,’ said John, pausing for breath, ‘why don’t you ever listen to me?’
‘Listen to you now for fucks sake! You sound like an old woman. Why do you think I don’t bloody listen to you?’ Alan was finally upright, ‘Anyway, I didn’t hear you fucking complaining on Friday, when we were out on the town spending the cash. Or when that stripper shoved her arse in your face.’
‘Yeah, but look at us now,’ John replied, ‘they’re going to kill us for Christ’s sake.’
‘Keep it down they’re only just next door. And don’t go blaming it all on me. It takes two to fucking tango, remember?’ said Alan, chastising his friend, ‘Anyway we should be concentrating on getting out of here alive, not wasting time bickering! Try and find something sharp.’
‘Sorry mate,’ John said, softening his tone.
‘Forget it, we can kiss and make up later,’ Alan replied.
‘I just can’t stop thinking about Vanessa and the girls. Do you think someone will have found them?’ John said, and then sub-consciously realising, ‘Why do you think they want the keys?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s concentrate on getting out of here for now,’ Alan replied, fearing the worst. He started looking around for something that might help them. The room seemed to be devoid of anything useful. Then he spotted a crushed beer bottle top in the corner, near the door, it was reflecting the light coming in through the gap under the door.
‘Go and pick that up,’ he pointed his head towards the corner.
‘Pick what up, and why don’t you do it?’ said John, not feeling particularly bright.
Alan shook his head, ‘Because I haven’t got my fucking hands tied in front of me, otherwise I’d be strangling you right now, the bottle top stupid!’
‘Oh, sorry,’ John replied.
‘Will you stop saying sorry and get on with it?’ said Alan, through clenched teeth.
John managed to rock himself forward and stand up. Doing something resembling a one man potato sack event, he made his way to the corner. Alan muttered something under his breath, probably not very complimentary. Squatting down, John managed to pick the bottle top up between his tied hands.
‘Right cut me loose,’ Alan said, rising awkwardly from the bed and turning his back to John. Fumbling John started sawing at the tape binding Alan’s wrists.
‘Patience! Come in here!’ John stopped cutting, as he heard Tunge’s cry from the other room. Trembling, straining to hear what was being said.
‘Yes Sir?’ was Patience’s muted reply. Then they heard him trundle off down the corridor from his post at the door. John waited a moment, and then carried on cutting.
After five minutes, Alan was still trussed, and getting exasperated, ‘Are you fucking tickling it with that thing or what?’
‘Calm down, nearly there. It isn’t bloody easy,’ as he said it, John finally went through, and Alan’s hands were free. He brought them round in front of him and rubbed them together. Trying to get the circulation back in to his numb arms.
‘That’s better,’ Alan said, a few minutes later, reaching down to undo his legs. ‘Right let’s sort you out then.’
Unwinding the tape was difficult and it was a few minutes before he tore the last piece off. John was relieved to be free, and nursed his aching limbs and bruised shin. Movement was coming from the corridor, they froze not daring to breathe, and then it receded. John thought it sounded like one, or two, of them had gone out into the warehouse.
‘Right let’s get out of this stinking place,’ Alan said, as if it was going to be straightforward.
‘Are you forgetting about the bloody armed nut cases outside? How are we going to get past them? With the bottle top?’ said John.
Admittedly Alan had come through when it looked hopeless before but this was looking really hopeless. ‘If we stay here we’re dead anyway so what have we got to lose?’ replied Alan, ‘Anyway as much as she’s gonna fucking kill me, I’m a little bit worried about Caitlyn and the girls! If you know what I mean?’
‘Of course! I’m worried too Alan. But there’s no point committing suicide is there? And that’s what goi
ng out there is. There are six of them and they’ve got bloody machine guns.’ John was unaware that Kayin was asleep in the room across the hall, making it seven, and then there were the dogs.
Alan stopped trying to pull the metal bars from the window, and collapsed onto the bed. ‘Well what’s your brilliant plan then?’ he said, sucking in breath after battling with the recas.
John had to admit that he didn’t have one, and feared that this was going to be the end of a long and beautiful friendship. ‘I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait for a chance to escape. Wait until their guard’s down or something. They’re obviously not going to kill us here, or they would have done it already. Our best bet is when they try to move us, when we’re out in the open,’ replied John, beginning to regain some of his senses.
Alan digested this. He supposed his friend was right, it was better than trying to burst through the door and face an unknown number of heavily armed mercenaries.
He slumped back on the bed feeling defeated, struggling desperately to work out their next move. While he was dealing with the practicalities of escaping, his thoughts had never left Caitlyn and his daughters. It wasn’t that Alan didn’t care about Vanessa, he just didn’t know her. He glanced across at John who looked, like he felt.
‘No point just sitting here. Let’s have a ganders around, see if we can find a way out or something,’ Alan said, trying to remain positive.
John looked around the barren room with its cell-like window, not much chance of that. Better than sitting on the bed worrying though, the activity made him feel only slightly better as they explored the dim recesses of the room. Searching desperately for a way out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
‘There not there sir,’ Patience said, getting back into the car, wiping the rain from his smoothly shaved scalp. The car’s wipers, struggling to keep up with the deluge, were keeping a rapid rhythm.
‘Shit!’ exclaimed Tunge, unusually. ‘Did you get the passport?’ Patience passed Alan’s wet passport through to the front in reply.
Happy smirked, ‘I told you we should have killed them earlier.’ He loved rubbing it in, watching Tunge suffer.
‘Shut up! Nobody asked you,’ shouted Tunge. It pleased Happy more to know that he had struck a chord.
‘The Chief is not going to like this,’ he said, although he had no intention of getting involved. He valued his position too much. He just wanted to rile Tunge further.
‘It has nothing to do with my father, and if you bother him with it I’ll make sure that you pay. Is that understood?’ Tunge hoped he sounded confident enough. Happy made no reply. ‘Is that understood?’ Tunge repeated.
‘Mmm!’ was all he got from Happy, remaining silent all the way back to the warehouse. He didn’t even speak as they waited together for Patience outside John’s building. The tension between the two was building up to high voltage levels.
Patience was secretly laughing to himself in the back of the car, listening to them squabble. Not quite as thick as he made out. People’s assumptions because of the way he looked irritated Patience when he was younger, but he soon learnt to use it to his advantage. Long ago realising that doing your job quietly was the best way to survive working for the Chief. Most people who opened their mouths ended up annoying him and dead anyway. Not that he was a genius, but he was no simpleton either. The two in the front made no attempt to hide their loathing for one another. Patience thought it was only a matter of time before they came to blows. Tunge just better hope the Chief was around to help him when they did.
Patience was hungry, so they stopped at a takeaway in Tilbury and took pizzas back to the warehouse for him and the guards. Ogun was alone at the gatehouse when they arrived. The smell sent the dogs wilder than usual, as they passed the kennels. Saliva dangled from their mouths as they strained against their confines.
Femi was on guard at the warehouse door, ‘Don’t let the dogs out yet, I’ll be leaving in a minute,’ Tunge said, as they hurried past him.
Kayin was up now and making a drink in the kitchen, Nwake taking his place in the sack. ‘Ah! Pizza,’ he said, seeing the boxes.
‘Help yourself,’ Tunge said, handing him one.
‘Shall I take some to the prisoners?’ said Kayin, thoughtfully. He had yet to see them but Nwake briefed Kayin before going to sleep, warning him to stay alert. Knowing that Happy was due back was enough to keep Kayin on his toes, so for once the warning was unnecessary.
There was no point starving them before they got to Nigeria, ‘Yes, take them in a bit. But be careful when you open the door. Don’t get too close and don’t talk to them.’ Tunge knew that Kayin was younger than the others and hadn’t yet achieved their detached hardness. He didn’t want him getting friendly with the prisoners.
Patience was sitting on the bench, blissfully tucking into a whole pizza. ‘Can I get you anything else?’ said Tunge. Patience paused, mid-mouthful, looking deeply hurt.
‘Do you want some?’ he said, offering the pizza to Tunge, held on one huge flat hand. Tunge looked exasperated.
‘I’m going home to make arrangements. I’ll call Nwake to let you know when I’ll pick you up. Only let them out to use the toilet, one at a time and you two take turns getting some sleep,’ he instructed, looking at Happy, who was refusing to eat the pizza. He didn’t like foreign muck. Happy could feel another load of mucus building up and took out a tissue to blow his nose. Bloody constant damp!
‘I’ll go and sleep then,’ he said, blowing his nose furiously. He went into the room across the corridor and closed the door.
Tunge was not un-happy to see him go, in the silence he could hear muffled voices coming from next door. ‘Make sure you keep a good eye on them,’ he said, and left Patience and Kayin munching pizzas. Sure that the gates were shut behind Tunge’s departing car Ogun released the dogs. They didn’t have the same empathy for him as Kayin, ignoring Ogun they bounded off into the yard.
Driving back to Knightsbridge Tunge was lost in thought. Wondering how he was going to control them on the journey. Suddenly he realised he might have a chance after all. His captives didn’t know that they hadn’t found Caitlyn and the others after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Alan and John were hunched in the room, trying in vain to come up with a plan of escape. A thorough search of their surroundings had brought them no results. After wracking their brains for hours, the bottle top was still favourite. The key search had left Alan feeling rattled, having darker thoughts about Caitlyn and the girls than before. John was equally worried about them and Vanessa. Utter desperation was filling them both.
They heard two of the guards, they saw on the way in, talking in the corridor. The language sounded strange and foreboding. Presumably they were changing shifts, because they heard the familiar signs of a shower running and a kettle boiling just before the exchange.
Not long afterwards they heard Tunge and the others returning. John was sure he could smell pizza coming through the gap under the door. He must be imagining it
They hadn’t eaten all day and he was feeling famished, just his mind playing tricks on him. Had anyone turned off the oven at Alan’s house? There was some talking, and then another door closed across the corridor, interrupting John’s thoughts.
‘What are we going to do if they come in?’ said John, looking at his unbound hands and feet.
‘Just keep your bloody hands together and make sure they don’t notice. Lie on them or something,’ was the best Alan could do.
The one who appeared to be the leader and driven the car was saying something in the corridor, Alan recognised his voice. Then there was the swish of the plastic sheet at the entrance and silence.
They were both exhausted and individually reached the conclusion that there was no way out of this. They were going to die. Why their captors were waiting they didn’t know. They were in possession of the money after all.
‘Why do you think they haven’t killed us yet,’ asked John, vo
icing his thoughts nervously.
Alan didn’t have an answer. The only thing he could think of was that they had been waiting for nightfall. That had been and gone over an hour ago. According to the erratic display on John’s cheap digital watch, it was now 5.07pm.
Trying to give John hope, he said, ‘They’re obviously not gonna kill us are they. Why would they bother to lock us up? Probably just want to teach us a bit of a lesson.’
John vowed that it was the first and last time. He would never be convinced to steal anything again in his life. No matter who was doing the talking or what was on offer! He felt ashamed that he had dragged her into this and risked her life. Was she ok? Was she alive? What were those three doing to Vanessa and the rest of them?
‘Do you think they got away?’ said John, once again engaging his mouth before his brain.
‘If you ask one more stupid fucking question you won’t have to worry about those assholes outside,’ snarled Alan, almost ready to launch himself at John.
‘OK,OK! It’s just that.....,’ started John.
‘Just shut the fuck up will you?’ interrupted Alan. Realising his friend was so upset he might actually go for him, John wisely kept silent.
Alan was managing, with small success, to distract himself from their predicament by concentrating on how to get out. John’s spoken worries only compounded his own. Burying his head in his hands he tried not to think of all the little things that he loved about them. Rachel’s nervous smile, her loving nature. Lucy’s tiny hands gently caressing his stubble. Caitlyn’s delicate mouth and sweet taste. The beautiful births. The glorious triumphs. The failures that made them stronger. He would do anything to hold them all right now.
His ramblings were interrupted by the sound of someone approaching the door. There was a pause as they fumbled with the lock and then the door opened, brightening the room.
He hadn’t been imagining it. John was too hungry to realise that the food also confirmed their suspicions that they wanted them kept alive.
