‘What list?’
Cox sighed. Already he had said more than he should. He looked his friend in the eye for a moment. What the hell, Brod deserves to know. I know he’ll keep his mouth shut.
‘What list?’ Mr Brodzinski urged him on.
‘A list was posted to the station this morning. We don’t know who the sender was-no DNA to be found, on the list or the envelope. All we know is that it was posted in London. Although,’ he shrugged, 'that could mean anything. It could have been posted there, or anywhere, to throw us off the scent----’
‘What sort of list, Jason?’ Mr Brodzinski interrupted impatiently. ‘You are making it all sound so weird. Why would my Annya’s name be on a list?’
‘Now that we don’t know.’ He didn’t add that it looked more like a stock list than anything else, as if someone was keeping control of the movements of sheep or cattle. ‘The list goes back for more years than you need to know, a list of the names of abducted people, most of them teenagers. So far we’ve traced people back to the 50s, and we still have a lot more to do. Annya’s name is on that list.’
Mr Brodzinski took a moment to digest what Cox had said, then asked, ‘So, where is she now?’
Cox sighed. ’I really don’t know, Brod. I wish I did.’
‘So what is the point of the list? Tell me, why would someone want to send you a pointless list?’
I’m sorry, we don’t know that either. The list is only of names, not where they are, or where they were taken from.’ He hurried on, hoping Brod hadn’t spotted another lie. The list did say where the people had been taken from-but not where they were now.
‘What is the point of the list?’ Mr Brodzinski grumbled, more to himself than to Cox, as he took a sip of his tea. His shrewd eyes never left Cox’s face.
Cox hesitated. They had already gone through that at the station, and the current theory was that somewhere there must be a second, current list, and whoever had sent the first was either playing with them, or seeking revenge.
He quickly went on, ‘But the few who remember your granddaughter say she was taken away from the monastery five or six weeks ago, along with four or five other kids.’
‘I don’t understand. Taken away? Taken to where? And why, why do this to young people?’
‘If I knew---- Trust me, if I knew where they were, I would have her home now, along with the rest of them.’
‘But who has taken her? Surely you have names of these bad men, if it's been going on that long?’
Perplexed, the old man sat back in his seat. After a moment, he took another drink of his tea. Putting the cup down, he went on, ‘Evil men have my granddaughter, don’t they?’
‘I’m sorry, Brod, but it looks that way. We are doing everything we can, and trust me, we were shocked when we got the list. It was the last thing we expected. For one thing, all of this is on a far bigger scale than we ever thought. But all we have are questions, and no answers.’
Cox was not prepared for the old man banging his walking stick on the table, and actually jumped when all the crockery began to dance. Cups rattled in their saucers, and Cox grabbed for them just before they tipped over.
‘I am not stupid! I know the ways of the world. There is more than drugs involved here. They have sold my Annya to even more evil men, and I will never see her again.’ A tear ran down his old wrinkled face and dropped on the table.
Cox hadn’t wanted to say what they suspected at the station had happened to Annya, and, from what they could gather, many more young people. He reached out and put his hand on Mr Brodzinski's arm. ‘Trust me, we won't let it go… I shouldn’t tell you this, but a very brave friend of mine is on their tail. I know he won't give up until he finds the ones responsible. And the missing kids. Trust me, he’ll bring them home even if he has to walk each and everyone of them the full length and breadth of England!’
He didn’t say what he was thinking, that Mike had a better chance working on his own of finding the kids and whoever was behind the scenes than the police had. His suspicions had been aroused by the little that Mike had told him and, doing some discreet digging on his own, he’d been shocked to see how much information had been blocked from above. Katrina was also working on it, and had passed a couple of files over that he had to go through today, before they met up tonight to talk things over.
‘Perhaps your man may be able to do this. But can you tell me this, will he find my Annya? And if he does, will she still be the same happy girl she used to be? I think not, Jason. Her life is now ruined. Her life as she knew it, as I knew it…is over.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lovilla Tarasov rested her right hand on a velvet cushion and watched as a young peasant girl painted her nails the same vibrant red as the cushion.
The young blonde girl had been taken from Northumbria. She was Polish by nationality, and had once answered to the name of Annya. Now she was addressed only as 'Hey, you', or 'Peasant' -if she was lucky. She was clearly terrified in case she did something wrong-or, worse, in case the dreaded Lovilla took a fancy to her, as she had to some of the others.
Lovilla had other things on her mind. There was her coming trip to London, where she would be initiated into full Family membership. But what thrilled her more than this was her secret meeting with Count Rene the day after. It was far from their first meeting, and unknown to her father. He would have a fit if he even dreamed of it.
He expects my support? What a shock he’s in for, she thought, smiling to herself and putting Annya even more on edge.
As Lovilla held her hands out and examined her nails, Annya stood next to her, her heart beating so loud she thought the world could hear it.
‘Hmm. Quite good,’ Lovilla said.
Annya relaxed her fists, only to tighten them again a minute later when Lovilla said, ‘You have five minutes to pack, peasant. I will need a slave in London. Move it!’
Annya ran to the room she shared with half a dozen other girls, all used for various jobs around the large house, from cleaning to being a foot warmer on the coldest nights. All the girls were busy elsewhere as Annya threw the few items of clothing she possessed-a thick green jumper that looked like it had once belonged to someone's great grandmother, a pair of wide bottomed jeans that had probably seen the light of day in the sixties, and some underwear-into the holdall they shared for such trips out.
She heard the door open behind her, and fear burning in her heart in case Lovilla had followed her, she spun round. Breathing a sigh of relief, she saw Jaz standing there holding two coat hangers full of assorted clothes.
‘You’re to try these on and take what fits you, enough for a week. Lucky bitch. It looks like you’re going somewhere warm.’ Jaz, her auburn bob swishing about her face as she threw the clothes onto Annya’s bunk, pulled a face, sighed and went on, ‘Please tell me you’re gonna try to do a runner?’
Annya nodded, slowly but positively. She was heading home whichever way, and no one was going to stop her. She would die trying. Death was preferable to this living hell.
Annya had been here four or five weeks. She wasn’t quite sure which, as the days blurred into one. She knew a couple of them had been spent in a small cell going cold turkey. As Jaz had told her, no one was controlled by drugs here. There was no need to waste them on peasants, there was nowhere to run but out into the snow. Annya had worn only a thin blue shift, the same attire as the others, of which there was a never-ending supply. The house was kept at an even temperature night and day.
Every now and then an arctic blast would skip through the house. Everyone knew that meant someone had been stripped naked and tossed out into the freezing cold. On nights like that, they huddled together praying for their lost friend, and wondering who would be next. In her darkest moments, the only thing that had kept Annya going was that one day, hopefully soon while she was still strong enough, her chance for freedom would come. And when it did, she would be ready.
This was her dream. It was what kept her
strong when the sound of the helicopter landing sent waves of fear through them all, when, night after horrendous night, there were guests in the house, and life was even worse than before.
She stared at Jaz. She’d never dreamed her chance would come this soon. She gave a determined nod, and Jaz smiled, her first real smile for a long time. Now the rest of them could dream-dream that Annya would make it.
Jaz had lost three years of her life in this hellhole. She knew that Annya was not the first to attempt an escape. At least two others had done so, but they had never come back, and there had been no rescue. She could only assume they were dead. Tracey had been taken out six months ago and had returned safely, but admitted as she’d cried that she’d been too frightened to try to run. Now all their hopes were pinned on Annya, who she knew was made of much sterner stuff than Tracey.
‘Don’t let us down, girl,’ she whispered as she helped Annya to pack. ‘We're all depending on you.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
After a restless night, tossing and turning between anxiety attacks, Shelly was very surprised to enjoy her breakfast. Though food had been the last thing on her mind as she’d dressed, the rising smell of bacon cooking had lured her downstairs.
She ignored the strange looks from the old man, as she asked for more toast, might as well set myself up for the day she thought , she could see he was dying to ask her if, yesterday, her hair had been long and black and feeling no inclination to put him out of his misery, she smiled as she buttered her toast.
She’d toyed with the idea, on and off through out the night, between her wide awake nightmares, of sending her brothers and Danny a postcard. They would be worrying about where she was. Well, she knew her brothers would - she was hoping that Danny would be, too. Hoping that eventually things would come right between them. But, frightened in case the postcards fell into the wrong hands, she’d decided not to.
Best stay on my own, she’d thought as she counted out the cash for the bill, and thanked the old man for a delicious breakfast, before heading for the train station.
After criss-crossing most of the midlands, by thumb and by train, and one foray further south, using only hard cash, Shelley was certain that she had not been followed. She knew she would be dead by now if she had.
Now, though, she had to find the Leader. She was certain that he was in this part of the country, but where exactly was another matter. Could be this city, or it could be a village around here that no outsider had ever heard of. But she knew without doubt it was somewhere in this area.
Giving the crowds around her a quick once over, she stepped down from the train. In moments, she was swallowed by the sheer mass of moving people. Nipping into the ladies' toilet, she hurried into the first empty cubicle and injected her insulin. That done, she moved to the sink and splashed cold water over her face. She stared into the mirror, still unused to the short blonde crop. She looked from side to side.
It’s OK, she thought. Definitely different, anyhow.
Back outside, she grabbed a carton of orange juice and a chocolate biscuit from the cafe. Not what her doctor would recommend at all, but it would keep her sugar levels up and help keep her going until the next proper meal.
Now the hunt begins, she thought. Her plan was to find the lowlifes in the city. No matter how nice the place, or where it was, there were always people who, mostly through no fault of their own, had slipped through the cracks and were living on the edge. It was mostly these young ones that the Families targeted, and leached from society for their own uses, so it was where they hung out that she would get her first lead.
Outside the station, she looked around once more. It was the first time Shelly had been to Norwich, and she was surprised at the mix of lovely old buildings and impressive new ones. Danny would love this place, she thought, with the usual sinking feeling in her heart every time she thought of him.
‘Wonder what he’s doing now?’ she muttered, leaving the station and crossing the road.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Danny was standing beside his mate Evan, at the graveside of Evan's girlfriend Alicia, having just undergone the most harrowing two hours of his life. He knew Evan partly blamed Shelly for Alicia’s murder. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was Alicia who had been the one to introduce Shelly to the bastards. Or so Shelly had told him, though if he was honest with himself, he didn’t trust anything Shelly said any more. He was missing her terribly, though, and knew if he saw her now, he would probably cave in. The last time he’d seen her, apart from dropping her stuff off at the hospital, while she’d been sleeping, she’d been a mess, lying on the floor covered in her own blood.
He remembered that first day in the hellhole, watching her stumbling towards the packing table, looking years older than she really was.
No, I won't. I’m not gonna start feeling sorry for her, he said sternly to himself. She’s well gone, outta my life forever. And that’s the way it’s staying.
But God help her, she looked such a friggin' mess, the evil bastards!
He yelped as Evan leaned on his bad side.
‘Sorry,’ Evan muttered.
‘No, it’s all right.’ Danny gently rubbed his ribs through the borrowed black suit he wore. ‘Are we going back in yet?’
The bar where Alicia’s family had laid on food and drink, to see their daughter off, was just around the corner from the churchyard. They had gone there after the funeral, but then Evan had wanted to come back, and Danny wouldn’t let him come on his own. For the last hour, they had been silently staring at Alicia’s grave.
He wondered again at the phrase 'see her off'. Strange one that, but he guessed it had been around for years. Shrugging, he looked at Evan, who still hadn’t answered him, but was staring at the beautiful array of flowers.
‘Come on, mate, let's get going.’
This time Evan nodded, then surprised Danny when he spoke. ‘She should have been here.’
‘Who should have been here?’ Danny blurted out, giving Evan a puzzled stare, a split second later realising who he meant just before Evan said loudly, ‘Shelly, that’s who.’
Danny sighed. ‘I know, mate.’
‘So where is she?’
‘I don’t know… Look, I’m sorry, honestly, I really haven’t a clue where she is, and I don’t think I want to. She’s more bother than she’s worth.’
‘Danny, did you know what they were all up to in this…this cult thing they were into?’
‘No, mate, I was as much in the dark as you were,’ Danny said, defending himself from Evan’s accusing tone.
Evan sighed. ‘OK. I believe you. But hasn’t it occurred to you how strange all of this is?’
‘Cults are strange. Full of fucking weirdoes.’ Sorry! He looked down at the grave, then up at the sky, as if waiting for a thunderbolt to strike him dead for blaspheming at a graveside.
‘No, what I mean is, Danny, none of this has made the news, either the papers or the telly… For God’s sake, it should be screaming out at us every time we switch the box on. Look at the way Alicia died - now that alone is worth newsprint. So why aren’t they here now, shoving mikes into our faces, demanding to know what we know?’
Danny shrugged again. Looking around the empty graveyard as if expecting half a dozen reporters to jump out at them, he thought, he’s right-why?
‘Want to know what I think?’ Evan went on before Danny could answer. ‘I think there’s some pretty high up bigwigs mixed up in all of this crap. I mean governments, world leaders, that kind of people, you know the sort I mean. That’s why it’s not in the papers or anywhere else, not even the internet. They can afford to keep it out. Same as it’s always been, one rule for them, a different rule for us. I mean, the internet-how the hell can they keep it off there? Pretty spooky if you ask me.’
‘True, mate.’ He didn’t mean to blurt out what he said next. As usual, he let it out before thinking it through. ‘It’s a fucking disgrace, that’s what it is. I mean, t
he state of her body, and what the bastards did to her, it should have made world news, for Christ’s sake!’
He forgot all about the bolt of lightning from above, and looked at Evan for confirmation. But Evan was staring at Alicia’s grave again, seeing nothing but her ravaged body, her beautiful skin turned the colour of white marble and hanging in tatters. Tears dropped from his eyes and landed on the soil. He sobbed at the thought of what she had gone through. The pain must have been beyond belief.
‘Oh, dear God, please look after her. She’s good, my Alicia, please take care of her. No way did she deserve to die the way she did.’ Gasping for air between sobs, his whole body shook.
‘Right, that’s it.’ Danny pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to Evan. ‘We are going to the pub now to toast Alicia’s life, say goodbye to her folks and friends who came, and then we’re going looking for Shelly, and I’ll shake the fucking truth out of her. You mark my words, God damn it. Just you wait till I get my hands on her. She’ll spill the beans then all right.’
Evan looked at him. Slowly he nodded, as a stubborn look stole over his face. ’Bet your fucking life we will.’
Reaching down, Evan snapped the head from one of the many floral tributes. Crushing the petals in his hand, he scattered them across the grave.
‘Goodbye, Alicia. I love you. I promise to find the bastard. You’ll see your day, I promise.’
Danny nodded. ‘You bet, Alicia pet.’ Together they turned and left the churchyard.
An hour later, after saying good bye to Alicia’s family and promising that he would not under any circumstances be a stranger, Evan was walking to his flat with Danny.
‘Why did they dye their hair black, Danny? I never understood that. Did they all have to look the same, every single one of them? And why weren’t Alicia and Shelly in the monastery? Were they his…his…you know what I mean?’
Danny shrugged. ‘I guess he did make them dye it black. Maybes the fucking creep has a thing for black hair. Who knows, with them sort of control freaks, could be any amount of reasons. Maybes his mother was blonde, and she beat him up. Maybes she had had black hair, and he fancied her. He was fucking crazy, man.’
Holy Island Trilogy 02 - Nowhere Man Page 10
