The Hurting

by RJ Mitchell

  Thoroughgood could clearly make out open vents overhead and, beyond the gates, he thought he could discern platforms in the flickering light. The thought hit him that Vanessa Velvet could still be alive in a chamber or vault only yards away. ‘Better late than never,’ said his inner voice, ‘but how you gonna get past the guard?’

  Thoroughgood remembered he was wearing the dispatched guard’s hoody, which should at least give him an advantage. His mind made up Thoroughgood decided to brazen it out. Pressing on, he emerged out of the dark. Hood up over his head, he walked down the tunnel. His figure was now clearly outlined by the flame light from behind the gate guard.

  As he approached the gate Thoroughgood kept his head down, hidden by the hood. The AK-47 was slung over his shoulder, while he placed the handgun inside his belt and took the, dagger in his grip inside the pocket. There was a clunk as the gate opened and a voice offered him a greeting he didn’t understand, “Das-salaamu ‘alaikum,” Thoroughgood replied in the only way he could, “Salam.” He walked through the gate, head bowed.

  He understood the next words, “Stop brother! You disrespect me!”

  Thoroughgood took in the twin platforms and the hive of activity. There was only one way to get out of this. He turned back towards the guard and walked slowly up to him. At the last minute he looked up and flashed a wicked smile that brought a confused look to the male’s face. He rammed the dagger into the guard’s midriff.

  “How does it feel to be turned into a kebab, mate?” he said, shoving his free hand over the guard’s gaping mouth and forcing the crumpling figure back through the gate and into the blackness of the tunnel.

  Thoroughgood pulled the dagger free from the dead guard and closed the gate, praying that he had not been observed. But what now?

  The only way he was going to get what he wanted was by creating chaos. Looking around Thoroughgood noticed two elaborately carved parallel stairways leading to a footbridge crossing over the disused track. He also spotted a burning torch pinned to the wall. It would provide him with an easy means to ignite the largely wooden station.

  Before he did that, though, he had to find Vanessa.

  The sound of voices approaching filled Thoroughgood with fear. He turned his face towards the blackness of the tunnel, holding the AK-47 in a manner that suggested he was the guard.

  He listened to the conversation. “No brother. The Imam says that the bitch is not to be despoiled. Instead, I have to deliver her last supper. Maybe I make her show some gratitude though, eh?” Both males laughed.

  They were en route to Vanessa’s cell and, by the sounds of it, Thoroughgood was just in time.

  The DS half turned and saw that the males had gone in different directions. One had turned towards a stairway at the top of the platform, the other, who was carrying a bowl, had continued down an adjoining corridor lit by further torches.

  Thoroughgood followed the second guard.

  The guard stopped outside a door, placed the bowl on the ground and put a key in the lock. As he pulled the door open he bent down to pick up the bowl.

  Thoroughgood smashed the butt of the AK-47 down on the back of the guard’s head and kicked his inert body into the room, quickly following it inside.

  Huddled in a corner of the room on a putrid mattress was Vanessa, almost unrecognisable, barely covered by a ripped shirt, wild-eyed and filthy.

  Thoroughgood spoke quickly, “I’m here to get you out. Just stay calm.” He placed his knees on the back of the prostrate male and ripped his linen head gear off before using it to tie the male’s hands behind his back.

  As he concentrated on the job in hand Vanessa asked, in a barely audible voice, “Who are you?”

  Thoroughgood looked up into her eyes which were brimming with tears. He answered, “Detective Sergeant Thoroughgood, Strathclyde Police CID. But you can call me Gus. I’m here to get you out.”

  “Thank you,” she said in trembling reply.

  “Don’t thank me until we are out of here, Vanessa.”

  A weak smile lit up her face with a trace of hope.

  “Look, you’re going to have to trust me, there’s only one way out of this place for us. By creating chaos. We are going to have to set the place alight. Here, take this,” Thoroughgood ripped off the guard’s shirt and threw it to her. Vanessa pulled it over the torn remnants of Fraser’s shirt.

  The DS rifled through the guard’s remaining clothes and pulled out a lighter. He ripped up some of the linen and emptied the lighter fuel over it before picking up the bowl and a glass. He filled both with the soaked linen shreds.

  “Right, here’s the plan,” he said as casually as he could. “Stick right behind me and do what I tell you. Carry these,” he handed her the bowl and glass. Vanessa smiled weakly, part of her amazed at how compliant the situation had made her. Yet she knew this slightly crazed looking man represented her only hope of making it out of her underground hell alive.

  Thoroughgood took her hand, felt her trembling fingers and reassured her. “Listen, help is on its way. We’re gonna be fine. You ready for this?”

  She looked into his blazing green eyes and said, with some semblance of conviction, “Go for it!”

  Thoroughgood wrenched the burning torch off the wall and led her out of the cell, the AK-47 levelled in front of him. They reached the corridor’s end without being challenged.

  Peering round onto the platforms Thoroughgood realised their best hope was to make for the disused railway track and head back where he had come from.

  From the sound of raised voices coming from the tunnel the skewered guard had been discovered. Their chances of making it out alive were receding fast.

  Any escape now would have to be by following the tunnel towards the city centre and taking their chances with whatever awaited them. There was more shouting and Thoroughgood realised the voices were directed at them.

  “Stop, kafir!” shouted a figure swathed in flowing linen. As Thoroughgood turned towards him a volley of gunfire smashed off the wall of the corridor in which they stood.

  Thoroughgood pulled back and pushed Vanessa against the wall behind them. Their close proximity and her imploring blue eyes stirred something in him as he pressed up against her.

  “What now, Detective Sergeant?” she asked pleadingly.

  “The tunnel has just gone out of bounds. Time for Plan B. We need to make the stairs at the right-hand side of the platform. They must lead up to the original over ground part of the Botanics Station. If we can get to the top there must be a hatch,” he said matter-of-factly. She smiled at him and he could see exactly why this woman seemed to be able to control everybody around her.

  “You make it sound easy!” she said.

  A further rake of gunfire on the wall opposite proved it was going to be anything but. Looking out onto the platform Thoroughgood saw a pile of smashed wood and kindling on the concrete floor.

  “Look, this is how we play it. Give me the glass and bowl.” Vanessa handed them over and Thoroughgood lit the fuel-soaked cloth in the vessels with the torch. He was rewarded with shooting flames.

  He ducked out of the corridor and lobbed the glass at the group of males who were gaining ground towards them. The vessel smashed just in front of them and a sheet of flame spread across the floor, engulfing two of the figures in it. Thoroughgood lobbed the bowl and a second explosion of flame enveloped the left bank of the platform in searing heat.

  He opened up with the AK-47, pumping its contents into the two burning figures, putting them out of their misery and sending the others scurrying for cover.

  Thoroughgood ducked back.

  “That’ll give the bastards something to think about. I’m going out there to unload as much lead as I can into whoever else is coming our way. You come out behind me and,” he handed her the torch and changed the weapon’s magazine, “lob that into the pile of crap over there and then make for the stairway as quickly as you can. I’ll be right behind you and we will take it from there. Ok
ay?”

  She nodded her agreement.

  “Right we go on ‘three’. Three!” He ran out onto the platform and unloaded the AK-47 into three figures who were less than 20 yards away. The male in the middle went down first. Vanessa sprinted behind him and the crackling of wood indicated she had lobbed the torch onto the pile of debris and it was already catching light.

  Gunfire now spat back at the DS and he dived behind the burning wood pile pulling Vanessa with him. He grabbed what looked like the leg of an old chair from within the pile praying the other end was on fire. It was.

  He peered out from behind the fire and opened up with the AK. Then he was up and running for the stairs, dragging Vanessa in his wake. As he reached the bottom step he pushed her up. “Keep going to the top and then take cover.” He ducked as a hail of bullets splintered the old wooden banisters.

  The increased intensity of the firepower indicated to Thoroughgood he was being fired on from more than one direction. He jammed the burning chair leg into the banister hoping it would set the staircase alight then turned round. “Come and get it, you bastards!” he screamed and let rip.

  The odds were stacking higher against him by the moment. He heard Vanessa’s voice from above him shout, “Gus! On your left!” He turned just in time to see a bearded man take aim with a handgun. Thoroughgood dived onto the bottom step as the single projectile smashed off the wooden railing he had been kneeling next to. Feeling the increasing warmth of the flames as the fire took hold of the staircase, he crawled up the steps heading to the overhead platform, bullets thudding into the stairs all around him.

  Reaching the landing he saw that Vanessa was unscathed. “Listen, you ever shot a handgun?” he asked and tossed the revolver to her before she had answered. “First time for everything, Miss Velvet, isn’t there?” Her eyes locked on his with a hint of mischief he liked.

  Looking down, he saw that there were at least six males on the platform taking orders from the black-swathed figure who had missed him with the revolver shot moments earlier. He supposed it must be Tariq himself.

  Looking above him, Thoroughgood saw a hatch and hope sprang in his heart that a way out was at hand. He shuffled along the landing to take a closer look. “Shit, it’s concreted in. No way out there.”

  “That is the least of our problems, Gus,” said Vanessa, “they’ve split up.”

  Peering over the wall Thoroughgood saw that three of the males had jumped down onto the disused trackway and were climbing onto the other platform.

  They had to make their move immediately. “Okay Vanessa, we need to go.” He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her along to the top of the other side of the stairs. “The flames are taking hold off the staircase we came up and that will keep them back. We need to get down this side, onto the track and into the tunnel pronto or we’re fucked. You wait at the top of the stairs until I give the word. If anyone comes anywhere near you fill them with lead. Once I tell you, come down and jump onto the track and run. Stop for nothing. Understand?”

  She smiled. “Thank you Gus. Whatever happens, thank you!”

  Thoroughgood shook his head and charged down the staircase. At the bottom he knelt down and levelled the AK-47. Two males were still on the track but the other was halfway up onto the south platform and Thoroughgood took him out with a quick burst of fire. He shouted, “Now, Vanessa!” and heard her footsteps coming down the rickety steps behind him. The whole staircase opposite was now engulfed in flames which were spreading right across the balcony landing. He pulled the trigger and unloaded the remainder of the AK-47 into the two males on the trackbed and they toppled over with anguished screams.

  He grabbed Vanessa’s hand and they both jumped onto the trackbed. “Get into the tunnel and run for your life,” he barked at her. She leant forward and kissed him. Then she was gone.

  As he heard more shouting from the north platform Thoroughgood tried frantically to change the AK magazine and discovered that he had no spare ammo.

  A guard jumped down onto the railway bed and charged at him screaming, “Allahu akbar!” his teeth bared and his eyes searing through Thoroughgood with hatred. The DS closed the ground between them as quickly as he could. At the last minute he lifted and rammed the barrel of the semi-automatic into the terrorist’s guts then smashed his forehead into his face. The male went down, poleaxed.

  Thoroughgood heard more footsteps yards away from him and looked up. Grinning in savage delight, Tariq aimed his revolver straight at Thoroughgood’s head.

  42

  “DETECTIVE SERGEANT Thoroughgood, I believe,” said Tariq with a venomous smile.

  “I guess you must be the Imam Tariq,” replied the DS breathing heavily. “Can’t say it’s a pleasure.”

  “You have been causing me problems for a while now, but at last I get to apply the full stop on them. Doing it personally will be so much more satisfying. Don’t you think, kafir?”

  In the background Thoroughgood could hear voices and more gunfire coming from the Kirklee end of the tunnel. Hope grew afresh within him. “Sounds to me, Imam, that you have a whole lot of problems coming your way. Don’t fancy your chances of putting a full stop on them.”

  “They will be taken care of,” replied the cleric and Thoroughgood saw a group of Tariq’s minions hurrying towards the tunnel.

  “There is no escape for you or the Velvet bitch. Tomorrow, I will showcase your execution alongside hers. The hero policeman minus his head and his world turned to shit. Who do you think you are, Thoroughgood? Bruce Willis?” Tariq laughed long and loud.

  His revolver remained levelled at Thoroughgood’s head as sparks and splinters started to shoot all around them from the staircase, which was starting to disintegrate above. A huge chunk of burning wood detached itself from the staircase and shattered into the soil yards away but Tariq’s focus remained on the DS.

  Thoroughgood tried to stall for time. “Why? What is all this for? The suicide bombing in Braehead? The murder of innocents? You can’t tell me that a religion known for its kindness and compassion can endorse the carnage you’ve wreaked on your adopted city? That this is how Islam repays those that welcome and show hospitality to its followers?”

  “You know not what you talk about, dog. You will not turn my mind from its purpose with worthless empty words. For the thousands of innocents who have died in Afghanistan and Iraq because of your Crusades there has to be vengeance. Sheikh Osama has warned the West that they would pay the price for their wars with the blood of their own people. I have taken the Jihad to your shores and now I have the device that will turn this city into a mausoleum for the masses and allow me to take my place in Paradise.”

  “So it’s true you have a dirty bomb?” demanded Thoroughgood.

  “You will find out soon enough, my pathetic little

  policeman,” replied Tariq.

  “Where in the Koran does it say that butchering innocents is the way to heaven? You’re the fuckin’ cleric so why don’t you quote me chapter and verse,” raged Thoroughgood, his self-control deserting him.

  Tariq flashed a malevolent smile. “Before I kill you, Detective Sergeant, I want to let you know what you will be missing. In 12 hours time we have a celebration planned that will cause a level of destruction that will make 7/7 and perhaps even 9/11 seem petty.”

  “The Nikah,” stated Thoroughgood.

  “Very good, Detective Sergeant. But where it will be held, you will never know.” said Tariq.

  Thoroughgood’s mind went into overdrive. Standing a hundred metres underground with his surroundings burning down all around him and Tariq pointing a pistol at his head, he felt like he was already in a highly personalised version of hell.

  The gunfire in the tunnel was intensifying and with it screams of agony. Thoroughgood tried to focus his mind on the matter in hand. It dawned on him. “Ibrox. You are going to blow up the Old Firm game, you crazy bastard.”

  Tariq inclined his head. “What does it matter where the joyous ev
ent is held? But before I kill you, I want something from you. Give me Saladin’s dagger,” he demanded.

  Thoroughgood smiled, aware that the gunfire was creeping closer. “Oh yeah, the dagger! The one that signifies its owner will unite Islam, the one that you have tried to have me killed for and that you hope will elevate you above bin Laden, you delusional bastard. Do you think I am stupid enough to run about with it on my person?”

  Tariq’s smile was venomous. “But of course you are, Detective Sergeant. My information comes from a most reliable source and one that has recently become very close to you.”

  Thoroughgood could not help a look of surprise breaking over his face. “Aisha?” he said.

  Tariq grinned. “Your pretty little nurse? Funny how that chance meeting in the hospital has led to an arrangement that has proved so convenient to me. Do you think that Aisha would have given herself to an infidel pig like you for any other reason than to serve the true faith and protect our Jihad?

  “Her father was a traitor who realised too late that he had betrayed all that was right. The revelation of the hawaladar’s identity was tantamount to sacrilege. It was right that he paid for that with his life.”

  Thoroughgood was left incredulous. “And Aisha was happy about you butchering her father, you madman?”

  “Aisha has become an important instrument of the Jihad. Sadly, she too must pay the price for her sins. Now give me the dagger, Thoroughgood. The time for your death is upon you. Try and meet it like a man.”

  “What have you done with her, you murdering son of a bitch?” demanded Thoroughgood.

  “It is of no importance to you. Now give me Saladin’s dagger.” Tariq ordered, his patience coming to an end.

  Thoroughgood flicked a resigned smile and pulled the blade from his trouser belt, holding it in front of him and examining it with apparent reverence. “So this is the legitimisation of your reign of terror? A crazed perception that you will unite Islam and become a successor to Saladin? Jesus H Christ, you want it all don’t you?”