by Colin Garrow
Leaning against the kitchen table, it felt as if yet another lead had led us into a cul-de-sac. If Mr Ahmed was up to something, he was doing a great job of hiding the evidence.
Carol grabbed my arm. 'What's that?' Her head jerked towards the front of the house. We turned towards the sound. Then a buzzing came from Ralph's jacket.
Pulling out his phone, he listened, muttered, 'Aye, we kinda realised that,' and put it away. 'Ahmed's back.'
We were through the kitchen door in a second, ignoring the fact we'd left all the lights on. The gate to the lane was still open and if we'd been a bit quicker we might have made it. Unfortunately, the man called Horse was now blocking our exit route.
'Who the fuck are you?'
There was no possibility of getting past him that I could see, but Ralph clearly thought it was worth a go. Rushing past me, he aimed his head at Horse's stomach and barged into him. Somehow, the big feller managed to avoid injury and Ralph ended up flat on his face with Horse standing over him.
Carol slipped her fingers into mine and I glanced back towards the kitchen, but there were already two men in the open doorway. I looked at Ralph and my stomach did a quick flip when I saw he wasn't moving. The giant who'd floored him stepped into the yard.
'I'll ask ye's again - who the fuck are ye?'
Whatever I was about to say must remain a mystery. The fist that slammed into my face knocked me backwards. I fell over Carol, hit the floor and everything went black.
The bed was not the one I'd expected to wake up in. In fact, it wasn't a bed at all. I blinked several times, trying to focus on my surroundings, but it was too dark to see very much. Moving my fingers across my body, it was a relief to find I was still dressed. It was slightly less of a relief to find something sticky under my nose. As soon as I touched it, the pain surged up my face. I had a vague memory of being in the back of a van, of my head being used to wipe the floor.
Struggling to sit up, I closed my eyes, the dull ache across my forehead coming in waves. After a minute, it began to diminish and I was able to open my eyes again. Looking around, the darkness lay heavily over everything. Spreading my hands out, I began to feel my way around the space, exploring the area where I'd lain, then moving across the room.
I'd been lying on a piece of rough fabric - canvas or sacking maybe. Underneath, a cold draught wafted up through the floorboards. I smoothed the material back down and my fingers came into contact with an object next to me - something big, something warm.
'Ralphy? That you?' My voice sounded hoarse and I coughed a few times to dislodge whatever was holding back my usual dulcet tones. 'Ralphy?'
The bundle groaned and struggled into a sitting position. 'Divvent call iz Ralphy, ye dick.'
'Sorry.'
My eyes were getting used to the darkness and now I could see a dim outline - two rectangular-shaped panels on opposite walls. Struggling to my knees, I crawled across the floor and felt around the edges of the nearest one. If this was a window here, it'd been expertly boarded up. The slither of pale light illuminating the edges, might've been cast by a dull sun on a rainy day, or a pale moon on a black night.
It was only then that I remembered Carol. Why hadn't they brought her here as well? Surely it'd be easier to keep us all in one place? I thought the truth was probably less complicated - I knew why they'd split us up and it wasn't an image I wanted in my head. Whatever they were up to, it reeked of something much worse than simply being locked away.
Crawling around the edge of the room, I discovered that apart from the two boarded-up windows, there was only one door (locked, of course), and an overall space no bigger than twelve feet square. Its only occupants were me and my big mate.
Ralph was sitting up rubbing his head. 'Where's the lassie?'
'Not here.'
'Shite.'
Ralph stood up and started patting his pockets. 'Your phone gone?'
I checked and nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me. 'Yeah, both of them.' I went through my clothes and found they'd taken my wallet too, leaving only a few coins, a hanky and...something hard sticking in my armpit. Pulling my shirt open, I slipped a hand inside and found the torch. It must have dropped in there when I hit the deck.
Pulling the string over my head, I switched the Maglite on. Ralph swore and held a hand up, wincing.
'Where'd that come from?'
'It's Carol's. Forgot to give it back.' Now we had light, we searched the room properly. Sadly, there was nothing else significant or useful, but it was obvious from the decor that we weren't in a house. The walls seemed to be built from smooth concrete blocks and were doing a good impression of being solidly constructed. Apart from a few scuff marks, the floorboards were clean. 'Some sort of industrial unit?'
Ralph nodded. 'Two storey at least. And new.' Dropping to his knees, he pulled back the canvas I'd been sitting on and sniffed the wood. 'Aye. See?' He pointed to small holes in the planks. 'Ye can still see the tops of the nails. Shiny, see? Haven't had time to get dirty.' He crawled along the floor while I shone the torch over his shoulder. 'Bloody amateurs, haven't even used tongue and groove. Wankers.' Pushing down on the floor, he continued along, testing the boards. Finally, he stood up. 'What they used to call jerry built.'
I waved the torch over the floorboards. 'Looks fine to me.'
'Wood hasn't been seasoned, ye can see where it's already startin to come up. An there...' He tapped a foot. 'They've only nailed every third or fourth plank.'
'Aye, well when we get out I'll report them to building standards.'
He gave me a playful smack across the back of the head. 'Ye daftie - this is our way out.'
I looked at the floor. 'It is?'
Ralph took the Maglite and scanned the room. 'Just need summat to give us a bit of leverage...'
I watched him walking around the room, covering every inch of the space with the light. It was reassuring that he was keen to escape, but I couldn't imagine how that was going to happen.
'Here we go.' Ralph was staring at the ceiling.
'Plasterboard?'
He nodded, grinning. 'Not just plasterboard, shoddy workmanship.'
'I'm not with you.'
He chewed his lip, humming some random tune. Then grasping my shoulder, forced me onto my knees. 'Just need summat to stand on. Go on, right down.'
On all fours, I could see what was coming and I wasn't happy. As Ralph planted one foot on my lower spine, I let out a low moan. Splaying my hands, I prayed my back would stand the strain. A second later, another groan made its way to the surface as my giant friend balanced all his weight on his new footstool.
'Ooh, Christ,' I muttered, trying not to sound pathetic.
'Shut yer face, I'll only be a second.'
I heard a thud followed by a bit of what my dad used to call 'rive and tear', a phrase employed for everything from splitting logs to carving the Sunday joint. A flurry of dust and plaster crashed to the floor, sprinkling my head and the surrounding area.
'Just one more good...' There was another thud and more ripping, then what felt like a sackful of muck and rubbish crashed to the ground.
Ralph relieved me of my lowly position and helped me to my feet. 'There we are,' he said, rubbing his knuckles. 'What'd I say, eh? Amateurs.'
I looked down at the mess on the floor. Amidst all the lumps of plasterboard and dust, was a selection of what I supposed to be general building rubbish - small off-cuts of wood, crisp packets, half a mouldy sandwich and a few bent nails. But it was the five-inch length of angle bead that my friend was interested in.
'Now we've got tools.' He gave me a look that suggested I ought to congratulate him.
'That's great. What ye goin to do with it?'
Gathering up the nails, he picked out a few of the straightest ones and gave them to me. Then laying the torch down on the floor, he said, 'Start over there.' He pointed to the section he'd shown interest in earlier. 'Try and work the nails between the boards. I'll start on this bit.'
And so, on our knees, a few feet apart, we spent the next half hour or so trying to wedge nails in the almost non-existent gap between the planks Ralph assured me were most likely to yield an eventual escape route.
To pass the time, I told Ralph about my visit to Judy the Prostitute and Councillor White. He didn't have much to say on either subject, except for commenting on the poor quality of the beer in the North Sea.
I'd broken two fingernails and carved a nice chunk out of my thumb before we began to make progress. Ralph moved closer as he worked away at the gap until finally, sitting up, he reached for the section of angle bead. Laying it on the floor, he stood up and banged his foot down onto the metal, squashing the two sides together. Then, resuming his position next to me, muttered 'Moment of truth.'
Pushing one end of the device into the widest of the spaces we'd made between the planks, Ralph slipped off his shoe and started tapping it against the metal. At first, nothing happened but gradually it slid into the gap and as it did so, the wood either side seemed to give a little.
Slipping off his sock, I watched in mild amusement as Ralph wrapped it around the end of the angle bead and began to pull it towards himself.
'Quick! Slide the nails in.'
Amazingly, one of the floorboards had begun to lift away from its housing. I forced the nails into the newly created spaces, pressing down on them as much as I was able. A minute later Ralph was able to wedge the toe of his shoe into the gap.
'Now,' he said, standing up. 'This is the easy part.'
Crouching down on the opposite side to the gap, we grasped the now protruding edge of the plank and pulled. For a moment, nothing happened, then the wood creaked, protesting at our resolve to remove it.
'This time,' said Ralph, the ends of his fingers white with the strain.
Renewing my hold, I tried to ignore the sharp edge as the wood dug into my flesh. I gave it my all. There was a woody screech and we fell backwards, the plank across our laps. Sitting up, I gazed at the hole it had left. Like this one, the ceiling of the room below had been plasterboarded, and similarly, the gaps between the joists were littered with rubbish.
'Lazy bastards,' said Ralph, pressing on the boards. Moving back, he took hold of the next plank along and gave it a tug. It came away easily. After that, it was a simple matter to pull up the next three, leaving only the ceiling below between us and the possibility of freedom.
Replacing his sock and shoe, Ralph balanced himself with a hand on my shoulder. He lifted his foot. A half dozen quick downward thrusts and the plasterboard gave way, revealing the room underneath.
Nevertheless, we still had to negotiate our way between the joists. In my case, I was able to slide my legs over the edge and through the hole without too much difficulty. After I dropped to the ground, I held the torch while Ralph squeezed himself through the gap. It took a bit of too-ing and fro-ing before he finally landed in a heap next to me.
It was only then that we were able to investigate our new surroundings.
We were standing in an empty warehouse - a high-roofed rectangular space with a huge shuttered door at one end and the obligatory fire escape at the other. Next to this was what looked like a small kitchen, while above us, the room that had until recently served as our prison, was attached to one wall. It was supported by four stout pillars and in the dim light I was able to make out the metal staircase that led up the wall to the door. A window looked out from the office onto the warehouse itself, so the other one must have been on the outside wall.
I was still considering the layout of the place when Ralph began rattling the shutters. 'Come on, Terry, we haven't got all bloody night.'
Hurrying over to join him, I hunted around for a light switch. Hitting the first one on a panel of switches, I was rewarded by a flickering above us, as two florescent tubes burst into life.
At the far side of the shutter was a looping chain that reached to the ceiling. Ralph pulled out the pin that kept it in place and started hauling away like a pirate on a promise. Immediately, the shutters began to rise. With the mechanism barely half way up, we slipped underneath and into the cool night air, allowing the shutter to clatter back to the ground.
The sky was still dark and the beginnings of the new day teased the horizon. I reckoned it must be about six in the morning. We'd been locked in for eight hours.
We stood for a moment taking in our new environment. A short driveway and parking area led down to an unfinished road. On either side were industrial units like ours. Unlike ours, most of the others had no roofs on. Glancing around the site, none of it looked familiar - there were no telltale landmarks, no burger vans whose owners might shed light on our geography. Even so, in one sense at least, I knew exactly where we were. Screwed to the corner of the industrial unit was a small wooden sign, bearing the image of a guard dog and declaring the security of the building to be maintained by a firm I'd heard of once too often - SAHB.
I looked at Ralph. 'Andersson.'
He nodded slowly.
The road to the left didn't was a dead end, so we turned right and started walking.
Chapter 14
By the time we reached the edge of the industrial estate, we were no nearer guessing our location, but the fact we'd made it to a main road gave us a sort of spiritual, if not an actual, lift.
Ralph pointed to the left. 'Looks like a road sign up there.'
There was no footpath so we walked along the grass verge. As we got closer, the sky had lightened up enough to make out the names on the sign.
'Jesus, we're miles away.' I looked back down the way we'd come. 'Must be a couple of miles outside Killingworth.'
Ralph yawned. 'Aye, well, could be worse.' He started walking again. 'What time do your guys get in on a morning?'
For a minute I wondered who he meant by my 'guys,' then I realised. 'Office'll be open at half six. There's usually desk cover an one driver. The others turn up between seven and eight.'
'Just s'long as there's someone to come an pick us up.'
The walk to the nearest phone box was another mile down the road, past the roundabout and yet another new estate. While I made the call, Ralph went into the newsagents opposite. He came back with a bottle of water, a Mars bar and a Twix.
'Which d'ye want?'
'Not much of a choice,' I said, taking the Twix.
'It was either this or a two-day old cake-and-Sidney pie.'
We sat on the wall next to the phone box, staring into space. I fished in my pocket and pulled out the few coins I still had, and held them out.
Ralph shook his head. 'Nah, ye're fine. Owner's an old mate of mine.'
I nodded. 'Must've thought ye looked a bit of a sight?'
He looked down at himself and for the first time noticed the mess his trousers were in. He looked at me. 'Better than yours.'
We laughed, then fell into a genial silence.
Fat Barry's car was warm and reeked of bacon. 'Christ man, what the hell happened to you pair? Ye's been out shaggin sheep, or what?'
Ralph muttered something about a night on the tiles, which called a halt to Barry's questions, but the fat man's expression told me he wasn't satisfied. No doubt he do his nosy-parker act later.
It was surprisingly reassuring to sink into the fake-fur seats and close my eyes for a moment. As we set off, Barry turned the radio down and chuntered away about this and that, oblivious to the fact neither of us were listening.
We'd hit the outskirts of town before it occurred to me to tell him where I wanted to go.
'The cop shop? What the hell for?'
The thought of revealing what we'd been through was too much to deal with, so I said it was a personal matter. He shut up after that and Ralph nodded a silent thank you.
Unsurprisingly, Ralph ducked out of my proposed meeting with Charis. He promised to sort the taxi fare out with Mrs Carver and said he'd be in touch shortly. I reminded him I didn't have a phone.
'Oh aye.' He climbed back into the ca
r. 'I'll sort summat. See yer soon.'
It occurred to me, as I watched the taxi disappear round the corner, that Barry hadn't asked about Carol. Maybe that didn't mean anything in itself, but once again, I found myself wondering who I could trust.
The police station was one of those old-style red brick structures that look more like 1950s grammar schools than the headquarters of law and order. With the inevitable blue front door and matching windows, the only thing missing was a playground, but I guessed they'd have their own ways of passing time between arrests.
Inside, the place matched my expectations in both decor and atmosphere.
The desk sergeant was a seasoned professional with an air of undauntability about him, and seemed to fit right in with the olde worlde ambience. I told him I needed to speak to Inspector Brown as a matter of some urgency.
'This relating to an ongoing investigation is it, sir?'
'It is, yes.'
'Aye, well, she's not in yet. Ah can get the Duty Officer to come down if ye like?'
I shook my head. 'Really need to see Charis. I mean, Inspector Brown.'
If the sergeant drew any conclusions based on my over-familiarity, he kept them to himself. Making a show of turning to look at the clock on the wall, he said, 'Have to wait, then, won't ye?'
'Fine.' I spent a few minutes in the toilet wiping the blood and other crap off my face, then went back into reception and sat on one of the plastic chairs that lined one wall. I closed my eyes.
'Terry? Terry, wake up.'
I blinked and tried to focus. There was a hand on my shoulder. Charis stood over me. She was frowning in a way I interpreted as expressing moderate concern and I was pleased to see her elfin-like charm had reappeared. Behind her, DC Ramshaw hovered, a look of bemused distraction on his face. I wondered if he'd picked her up from home. Maybe she'd picked him up? Perhaps they'd come to mean more to each other than mere colleagues? I didn't think so - if he was shagging her, he'd have been grinning like the proverbial cat. Again.
