by Sam Millar
“Always someone clowning around in this town,” quipped Karl, his face suddenly hit with a rhino-shaped sponge.
“I think it’s great. Makes the city more of a metropolis.”
“Metropolis is where Superman lives. Here we have clowns. There’s a weeklong convention of them going on at the Waterfront. They mustn’t have heard that we have a permanent circus of them up at Stormont.”
Inside Nick’s Warehouse, Karl made his way to his favourite spot at the window. From here he could see the office, a short distance down the street. He pictured Naomi tapping away at the computer’s keyboard. Felt a terrible ache in his stomach.
“That was very rude of you, Katie, back at the office,” said Karl, guiding Katie to her seat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A half grin appeared on Katie’s face.
“You know precisely what I’m talking about. Ignoring Naomi the way you did.”
“Naomi? Oh, is that her name? She’s ugly. What do you see in her?”
“Don’t be cheeky.”
“Well, I don’t like her.”
“No one said you have to, but don’t be rude. Now, how come you didn’t inform me that you were coming home for the summer?”
“I’m not home for the summer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m home for good, Dad. I finally got my transfer to Queen’s.”
“Oh, Katie! That’s brilliant!” responded Karl, delighted, reaching over and holding Katie’s hand before kissing her cheek. “Hold on a minute. Why am I so bloody happy? That means you’ll be able to find me easier now when you’re looking for money. I can’t win!”
Katie laughed, throwing back her head slightly, and Karl saw – as if for the very first time – that his daughter had turned into a very beautiful young woman. She would be a heartbreaker, just like her mother.
“It’s Mum’s birthday on Monday,” said Katie, eyes sparkling.
“And?”
“I thought we’d surprise her. Bring her to The Edge. She loves that restaurant.”
Bring her to the edge. A horrible flashback of ex-wife Lynne entered Karl’s head. He had returned unexpectedly from a business trip to Dublin and, upon entering their bedroom, was shocked to find a naked stranger in his bed.
“Fuck,” said the naked stranger, tapping weirdly on the bed sheets.
It took a full second for Karl to realise that the stranger was tapping his wife’s hidden head, trying desperately to get her attention. It took another few seconds for Karl to realise that the stranger tapping his wife’s head was a woman.
Lynne’s head slowly emerged from beneath the bed sheets, the area around her large mouth slick from cunnilingus, or mouth-to-vagina resuscitation, as Karl aptly, but drunkenly put it, days later.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” whispered Lynne, rather hoarsely, wiping her wet mouth.
“And you’re not supposed to be there,” answered Karl, calmly, in shock, about to turn and leave.
“Karl, please … please let me explain …”
“No need to. I’m gone. Stay and finish your meal.”
“You bastard!’ screamed Lynne, charging from the bed, a threateningly large, lance-like dildo strapped to her waist and groin area. “You fucker!”
No thanks. You fuck her.
“Dad? Are you listening to me?” asked Katie, bringing him back from self-torture.
“I’m sorry, Katie, but there won’t be a reconciliation, if that’s what you’re planning.”
“I can’t believe you’re willing to throw away twenty years of marriage because of a kiss from an old boyfriend.”
“An old …? What old boyfriend?”
“Mum told me all about it; how an old childhood friend kissed her, and you walked in on them. She admits the kiss lasted longer than it should have, but blames the gin and tonic.”
“Really? Simply a lingering kiss alongside the old G and T? Very original.”
“She assures me that she’ll never look at another man again, for the rest of her life, Dad.”
“I can believe that.”
“Well?”
“Katie, I know how much it would mean to you, for your mum and dad to get together again, but it’s not going to happen, my wee love.”
“It’s her, isn’t it? Her with the fancy name. You dumped Mum because your fling is a lot younger. Isn’t that it?”
Karl could detect a slight hardening of Katie’s voice.
“No, it’s not that, Katie. It’s not a fling. It’s much more complicated. Give your old man some credit for being a bit more complex than that. Be appreciative that I have found someone I care deeply about, and who cares deeply for me.”
“I can’t believe this! You’d rather have that … that secretary over Mum, or over my feelings?” Katie’s voice was becoming irritable, rising considerably.
“Calm down, Katie. Please.”
“You can’t love her!”
“Would you calm down for one –?”
Forcefully pushing the table away, Katie stood, grabbing her jacket before storming out of Nick’s, almost knocking down the oncoming waiter.
“Katie!” shouted Karl, rushing after her.
“As long as you stay with that woman, you’re no longer my dad!” she screamed, disappearing into the crushing crowd of amused onlookers, clowns and jugglers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Dripping water hollows out a stone …”
Ovid, Epistulae Ex Ponto
The next morning, Karl’s mobile rang on the floor, wakening him.
“Bastarding sofa … neck feels broke …” he moaned, moving his body awkwardly on the futon.
Groggy-eyed, he checked his wristwatch. 6:30 A.M. “Who the bloody hell …?” He checked the number on the mobile. Didn’t recognise it. His head began throbbing from last night’s self-pitying intoxication. Mouth dry and distracting.
Placing the mobile to his ear, Karl whispered, “Hello?”
“Karl?” A woman’s voice. Edgy. Uncertain.
“Yes?” He thought he recognised the voice, but wasn’t one hundred per cent certain. “Who’s this?”
“Lynne,” said the voice of his ex.
“Lynne? Look, if this is about more bloody money, you can just –”
“Is Katie with you?”
Something about Lynne’s voice forced Karl to quickly clear away the sludge in his head.
“Katie …? No … no, she’s not here. Why? What’s wrong?” Karl pushed himself out and on to the edge of the futon.
“She didn’t return home last night. Told me before she left yesterday that she was going to surprise you at your office. Did she show up?”
“Yes … we went to Nick’s for a meal.” Then remembering, he quickly corrected himself. “Well … we didn’t actually start the meal.”
“What do you mean?”
Karl could feel his face redden.
“We … we never actually got a chance to order it. We had a bit of an … argument. She walked out, in a huff.”
“You bastard! She came all the way from Scotland, to see you and tell you her great news, and you ended up arguing with her? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t start any sanctimonious claptrap, for fuck sake!” shouted Karl, quickly on to his feet, pacing the carpeted floor.
“Was the argument over Ni-emm-e?” exclaimed Lynne in a patronising voice. “Your daughter’s out walking the streets, and all you’re concerned about is Ni-emm-e?”
“All this shouting at each other isn’t helping. Katie’s obviously staying with her mates. I’ll call them now, as soon as you get your bucket mouth off the phone.”
“Really? Tell me the name of one of Katie’s friends, Karl. Go on. Shock me that you even know that much about your daughter.”
Karl’s face suddenly felt on fire.
“I …”
“You worthless piece of shit! You don’t even know any of your daught
er’s friends. Bet you know all of Ni-emm-e’s friends though.”
“Calm down, Lynne. Just calm –”
“Find, Katie, you bastard! Just find her.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“The devil’s agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not?”
Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles
Katie awoke to a jarring darkness offering no clues as to her whereabouts other than a nocturnal sense of dread. A soggy mattress smelling of piss and vomit was all that separated her from the bare floor.
To her horror, she was naked, and she immediately began pulling her knees up to her chest, hugging them for security and warmth. A smell of dampness filled the air. She could hear noises in the distance, but they seemed tiny, as if down a tunnel.
“Good girl. You’re awake,” said a voice in the darkness.
The voice startled and terrified her. She tightened the grip on her knees. Burning panic began rising in her chest. If only she could shake herself awake from this nightmare. “What … where am I?”
“Do not worry, Katie. You are safe. This is my kingdom. No harm can come to you here, provided you abide by the rules – my rules.”
“How … how do you know my name? Why … are you doing this?” Her voice sounded strange.
“Do you realise how strong-willed you are? You’d be surprised the number of people who die, waking up confused and stressed when they open their eyes to a foreign environment. They become so frightened about their location and purpose that their heart simply bursts open, killing them.”
“Don’t hurt me, please.” It’s okay. The alarm clock will go off, shortly, freeing you from this madness.
“I need you to stand.”
“Please … can I have my clothes? It’s so cold …” Wake up!
“Later, if you behave. For now, I need you to stand. Do not make me repeat myself again.”
She tried standing, but her knees began trembling so much she had to sit back down.
“I … can’t stand. My knees are buckling.”
Abruptly, something touched her where the small of her back flowed into her buttocks; something cold and clammy like the vinyl skin of a shark. Hands. Large hands.
She screamed.
“Screaming is futile, Katie. No one can hear you. Not down here.”
The clammy hands began pulling her up, forcing her to stand. She stood shakily, her knees refusing to stop quivering. Suddenly, like a fog evaporating, her eyes slowly began adjusting to the dark.
He stood there, the monster, silhouetted in the heavy gloom. Tall. Muscular. Naked. Something fashioned from an insane god’s hands, his face mangled by knots of darkness.
Her heart began pumping faster. Wake the hell up!
“Just do as you’re told, and everything will be fine and dandy,” he insisted. “Over here, in this direction.”
The hands began pulling, guiding her like a person suddenly blinded. The ground beneath her bare feet was wet with puddles, stinking of urine and exposed oil. Without warning, she banged her knees, hard, against something, something with wheels.
“Good,” said the voice. “Climb on and stretch yourself out.”
“Okay … please, don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever –” Without warning, Katie leapt at him with such surprising force it sent him skittering backwards against the wall, his head rebounding off it with a sickening thud. Her nails immediately became daggers, scratching and digging, drawing blood and flesh. “Bastard! Dirty filthy bastard!” she screamed, finding his eyes, gorging them, her teeth clenching involuntary with hatred and determination.
He howled a wounded animal noise, the blood spilling from eyes and face.
“Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!” screamed Katie, feeling the rubbery eyeballs shift in the sockets’ housing. A few more seconds. You can do this. Blind the bastard. Rip them out!
The sudden kick to her groin forced an agonising scream from her mouth. The pain was excruciating. She vomited, struggling through the pain just to breathe the dirty air.
Hands suddenly grabbed, scooping her up from the ground as if she were a wet doll, before thrusting her down violently upon the wheeled object.
She could feel straps snaking around her, tightening like a boa constrictor.
“You broke the rules. Now suffer the consequences,” he hissed, tightening the straps until she found breathing difficult.
“You don’t … you don’t know my father. He … he’ll find you, bastard. He’ll kill you.” She could see his face clearly now, for the very first time, and it terrified her more than when it hid in the shadows unseen.
“That’s where you’re wrong, sweet Katie. I know your father rather well. He’ll neither find me, nor kill me. Now, I need you to open your mouth. If you refuse, I have ways – very painful ways – of making you.”
He was forcing something against her mouth. Firm and greasy. It stank like the urine puddles beneath.
His penis? She felt her stomach heave, but ignored it, steeling her determination. Let him do it, let the bastard shove it in. Bite the pickle off. Let him bleed to death. Bastard.
“If you resist the tubing, it will rip your throat lining,” he said, pushing the tube against her mouth. “That would be very painful and fatal. Better to comply. Far, far better.”
She clamped her teeth tightly, willing them to lockjaw.
“Very well,” he continued. “You leave me no alternative.”
She could hear him shuffling about, moving things in the semi-darkness.
“Blame yourself for this, dear Katie.”
Some sort of bizarre metal apparatus was being clamped against her face. It felt like a mask with chin support. Turning a small wing nut at the side of the device, he began tightening.
She could feel her jaws caving, the more he turned the wing nut. A tiny clamp was placed on her nose. She tried holding her breath, but could hold it no longer, her mouth suddenly springing open, gasping like a stranded fish.
He coaxed the tube in, lubricating it with a thick, transparent gel. “I warned you.”
She gagged, and suddenly her entire body began jerking epileptically.
“Easy, easy,” he soothed, pushing the tube further down her throat. “Try not to panic. You will only end up choking … easy … easy … relax … good girl … soon you’ll be ready.”
As quickly as it had started, the jerking began slowing, steadying to a normal plateau. Katie felt darkness pouring into her brain, seeping down to her eyes. A blackout was coming. She welcomed it.
PART TWO
THE DARK PLACE
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“One hair of a woman can draw more than a hundred pair of oxen.”
James Howell, Familiar Letters
At the panoramic window of his office, Detective Inspector Mark Wilson stood sipping a cup of coffee, his eyes scanning early morning workers parading off to their jobs in the direction of Belfast City centre. Only a slight beer belly marred the poker-straight frame of his body. His cropped marine-short haircut – shaped like a smoothing iron – accentuated a face badly pitted with pockmarks. Not caused by acne, but by a shotgun blast to his face, many years ago.
A sudden rap at the door brought his attention away from the window.
“Yes?”
The door opened, revealing the weary face of Detective Malcolm Chambers.
“There’s a woman here, sir – outside I mean. She … she wants to see you immediately. I … I told her that was impossible. I don’t even know how she got up the stairs without being stopped at the –”
“A woman? Who the hell is she, and what does she want?”
“She told me to get … to get you, and for me to –”
Suddenly, Chambers was brushed to the side by the woman, her stormy face menacing.
“Lynne?” said Wilson, almost dropping the cup from his hand. “What the hell’s all this, barging in without –?”
“What have you done about Katie?” demanded Lynne
.
“Katie?” Wilson’s face knotted into a puzzle. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with Katie?”
“You’re saying Karl hasn’t contacted you about Katie going missing yesterday?” A red flush ran up Lynne’s attractive but gob-smacked face. “I don’t believe this.”
At the mention of Karl’s name, Wilson’s face did a slight nervous tic.
“Just calm down for a second, Lynne,” said Wilson, stepping forward towards his sister, quickly seating her in a chair. “Chambers? Don’t stand there gawking, man. Bring in some tea and biscuits for my sister – and another coffee for me.”
“Right away, sir!” exclaimed Chambers, backing quickly out of the office.
“Okay, Lynne,” soothed Wilson. “Start from the start.”
Lynne looked on the verge of tears. It confused and startled Mark Wilson, this unnatural outpouring of vulnerability by his supposedly rhinoceros-skinned sister – a woman not known for showing any sign of weakness.
“Katie got her transfer to Queen’s, a few days ago. She starts after the summer,” commenced Lynne.
“Queen’s? That’s great,” responded Wilson, smiling. “Now I’ll get to see more of my favourite niece.”
“She … she went to break the good news to her father on Thursday, but when she hadn’t come home by Friday afternoon, I decided to call Karl, find out if Katie was staying with him.”
“And? What did Kane say?”
“They … they had had an argument of some sort. Katie never stayed. The last he saw of her was at Nick’s Warehouse, when she angrily left without ordering a meal.”
“What was the argument over? Did he say?”
“No. You know him. He can’t tell the truth even if it sounds better than a lie, the bastard.” Lynne made a face. “Now it’s your turn to tell the truth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why hasn’t Karl been in touch with you? That would have been a priority with him, no matter how useless he is.”
“How the hell would I know why he hasn’t been in touch? Why don’t you ask him?”
