Unspeakable

by Marturano, Tony

  All he needed to do now was drive the short distance to the airport, dump his car, and get on the plane out of the country.

  And, he concluded, given that Rupert had transferred the money so quickly, it was highly unlikely that he planned to call the police. After all, it’s not as if he’d miss the money.

  This meant that he should be able to get on the plane without any problems.

  He looked at the clock on the dashboard.

  His flight closed in two hours.

  It had been over an hour since he had left Ashley. With a bit of luck she was still okay, but if she wasn’t, he didn’t give a shit. He had got what he wanted.

  He started the car.

  The traffic report, he had made a point of listening to, had forecast hazardous road conditions, and the last thing he wanted was to get stuck in a jam.

  69 The Truth

  D.S. Mark Warner shared a couch with a uniformed officer who took notes as they talked.

  Rupert was already regretting the call, as it seemed that the police were way too busy interrogating him, rather than getting out there to search for his fiancé.

  But he was desperate with nowhere to turn. He had transferred the money, but hadn’t heard anything from Adam.

  “So, when did you transfer the money?” Warner asked.

  “About fifteen minutes ago.”

  “To the offshore account…?”

  “Yes, I’ve already told you and given you that information, Detective. And, as I’ve already told you, I am not worried about the money, I just want my fiancé back. Jesus!” Rupert sat forward on the sofa and ran his hands through his hair.

  “I can understand what you….”

  Rupert held up a hand to silence Mark. “You don’t know what I’m going through right now so just, please, just don’t patronise me okay. I would rather you spend your time finding her, than dispensing textbook sympathy.”

  “Well, we’ve alerted all our patrols, it’s only a matter of time before we pick him up,” Warner said, calmly.

  “But that’s exactly it. We don’t have time! He said she had an hour, maybe two, before she froze or ran out of fucking air!”

  “Is that exactly what he said?”

  “Yes! I think so.”

  “Think Mr Harrison, it’s very important, were those his exact words?”

  “Yes they were. I think! Fuck!” Rupert jumped to his feet. “Jesus Christ I can’t remember! I was in shock at the time; I couldn’t believe the little shit was serious, or that he was capable of something like this!”

  He paced by the window, absentmindedly, gazing out onto London. He thought about all of the people out there, who were going about their lives oblivious to his plight.

  Mark nodded at the officer, who then proceeded to pull his mobile phone out of his pocket and walk to the corner of the room to make a call.

  “Mr Harrison, what do you know about this man?”

  Rupert thought about the question. “I’ve already told you... he’d been seeing my cousin for over a year.”

  “What did you know about him before this time?”

  Rupert thought some more, “Well, not much, I suppose. James, my lawyer, he…” Rupert faltered, “…he told me…”

  I can’t deal with this. Not again, I can’t! Oh God, Ashley. Ashley, please be alright.

  “Mr Harrison,” Warner continued.

  “What?” Rupert snapped.

  “This Adam character is a convicted felon; he’s got a very long record with us. He’s been charged in the past with extortion, coercion, fraud, to name just a few.” Warner paused here and then added, “We’re talking big time fraud, Mr Harrison. This man’s a professional, and his speciality is relieving rich woman and men of their money.”

  “Jesus Christ.,” Rupert said under his breath. He then went over to the bar and poured himself a drink.

  Warner hesitated, reluctant to continue, for he could see that Rupert was having a hard time dealing with the situation and was wary of pushing the man over the edge.

  He proceeded, carefully, “You see, we’ve been looking into this man’s past and, well, quite frankly, his associates aren’t the most savoury of characters either. As I said, these aren’t have-a-go villains, they are specialists. We believe that he was dating your cousin for one reason…”

  “…Really?” Rupert asked sarcastically; it was obvious now that Adam had been dating Elisabeth for her money.

  “…To get at you,” Mark finished.

  Rupert looked up. “What?”

  “To give you an idea of how meticulous and patient these people are, this guy, and his associates, formed a company many years ago with the sole purpose of taking over yours.”

  Rupert walked over to Warner. He was squeezing the tumbler so tight, he thought the glass was going to implode in his hand.

  He shook his head, “That’s impossible. They could never take over my company, Elisabeth and I are, were, are, oh for fuck’s sake, were major shareholders.”

  Warner said nothing.

  “Oh my God, that was why he was with her,” Rupert laughed, “did he really think he could get my own cousin to betray me?” He took a sip of the brandy and laughed some more, but he noticed that Warner was not laughing with him. “What?”

  “I don’t think that was his intention,” the detective said, gravely.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We think that Adam Lewis’ intention was to marry your cousin and, therefore, become her husband.”

  “And?” Rupert asked although he already knew the answer.

  “And, if something terrible happened to her, Lewis would have inherited her stake in your company, add to that the stocks owned by this other company…”

  “…and he would have become a major shareholder,” Rupert uttered.

  “Afraid so.”

  “My God.”

  “What’s more is, we think that your lawyer found out about this.”

  Mark pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

  “This is an email that was found on his computer, after his disappearance.”

  Rupert took the piece of paper and read it. “Why wasn’t I told about this before?”

  “We wanted to check its validity,” Mark said, casually.

  Rupert’s eyes flashed with anger, “I had a right to know about this before!” he yelled, and was about to continue his tirade when the officer walked over to Mark and whispered in his ear.

  “What is it?” Rupert asked, anxiously.

  Mark looked up and replied, “They’ve spotted Lewis’ car.”

  70 DEPARTURE

  Adam broke out in a sweat as he joined the motorway. He was so close to his ultimate goal that he could already taste the cocktails and feel the sun on his skin.

  He could also feel the pressure to the point where it was making his head throb, but he had a word with himself. This wasn’t his first time and it probably wouldn’t be his last. He’d been in worse situations, with even worse odds before, and had always emerged triumphant.

  He just needed to take a breath, stay focused, and before he knew it, he’d be on a flight out of this freezing cold and on to a tropical beach.

  Rupert was a smart man. He knew that involving the police would jeopardise his chances of seeing Ashley alive again. He wouldn’t take that risk. Two million pounds was nothing to him.

  He wouldn’t be so stupid, would he?

  The traffic was crawling agonisingly slow and Adam watched as a queue of aeroplanes climbed, lights flashing, into a moonlit night.

  He swore.

  It was this freak weather that was causing all the havoc. First it dumps snow, and then it decides to freeze the bloody thing over. This meant that most of the roads were untreated, which, in turn, was causing a numerous vehicle collisions.

  He’d already witnessed two prangs which meant the police were out in force, and each and every time he saw a flashing blue light his heart somersaulted.

  He talked to him
self again.

  The only reason there’s so much police presence is because of the accidents. It has absolutely nothing to do with you.

  Then, he heard the yelp of a siren behind him, and it was all he could do not to swerve and crash into the centre barrier.

  He looked up in the rearview mirror to see blue lights and headlights blink.

  The police car was almost on his bumper.

  He was in what would normally be classed as the fast lane, but the traffic was bumper-to-bumper. There was no escape. He was sandwiched in.

  So, he indicated and slowly tucked himself behind another car, a Mini, in the hope that he might be able to use the layby to make an escape.

  More siren yelping and lights flashing.

  “FUCK!”

  Slowly, like a shark in the water, the patrol car drew up alongside him. The driver scrutinized his face for a few seconds, but then, as soon as the cars in front parted, it sped off, lights flashing, siren wailing once more.

  Adam exhaled and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve.

  Calm down, you’re getting hysterical.

  Has he told them?

  Of course, he hasn’t. If he had, they would have pulled you over.

  Relax.

  He looked in the rearview mirror and swore again; there was yet another patrol vehicle, just two cars behind only this one didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry.

  They aren’t following you. But what if they are? If they are, they will never see her again.

  He kept his speed even and his heading level for a couple of minutes, as he followed the column of traffic. He was temporarily lulled by the crunching and slushing sound of melted snow under his tyres, but actually yelped when a machine gun rat tat tat tat strafed the metal of his door.

  He turned to see that a gritting truck was overtaking him, whilst hastily spraying its cargo of crushed rock and salt. It sped by with flashing yellow lights, that intermittently freeze- framed the anxiety on his face.

  It was all he could do not to ram the asshole. His nerves were already stretched beyond what he knew he could handle.

  Then, the traffic slowed once more, which prompted him to slap his steering wheel in anger, as it was slowly revealed that this was due to the fact that the drivers ahead of him were distracted by a stricken lorry, in the opposite lane. It appeared to have slid, crashed and twisted into the central reservation.

  Fuck this!

  He mopped his brow with the back of his hand; it was getting so bloody hot in the car, despite the fact that the gauge was telling him that it was minus 2°C outside.

  He turned on the radio, but all they could talk about was the sudden ‘cold snap’ that had paralysed Britain. The radio show host then went on to tell people not to travel unless absolutely necessary.

  Adam looked in the rear view mirror. The cop car was still there.

  He angrily shut the radio off. The babbling was making it hard for him to concentrate.

  It was taking way too long to get to the airport. He felt like overtaking all of the cars in front by using the hard shoulder, but that would undoubtedly attract unnecessary attention.

  So, instead, he stuffed a piece of chewing gum in his mouth, buzzed down the window and gulped in the fresh air which made him think of Ashley.

  The fluorescent digits of the dashboard clock told him that she must be running out of time and air by now. If he didn’t get to the airport soon, he wouldn’t be able to call and let Rupert know where she was, she would die and he would have killed her.

  He considered this, but only for a few seconds before he pushed it to the back of his mind.

  Just one of those things. She’s just the means to an end. Don’t start feeling guilty about her. I don’t feel guilty at all.

  Mercifully, the traffic picked up speed once more, and he passed a road sign that told him to turn off now for London Heathrow, Terminal 5.

  He smiled, indicated and steered off the motorway and onto Airport Way.

  He could almost hear the P.A. system, the hustle and bustle of travellers, the clicking sound of luggage wheels, and the animated discussions of fellow passengers, as they made their way to their departure gate.

  I’m rich! And soon I’ll be rich and free!

  The thought made him feel warm inside.

  That was until he looked up and noticed, after his eyes became accustomed to the glare of the headlights, that the same police patrol car that was following him on the motorway was still tailing him now.

  Coincidence?

  Unlikely.

  He accelerated and overtook the car in front of him and then looked in the side mirror; the police car was keeping its distance, but it was still there.

  Calm down, you’re imagining things.

  He had to know for sure, he had to satisfy himself.

  He took the next exit, steering the car off Airport Road and onto a minor road that ran parallel with one of the airport parking lots.

  The road here hadn’t been cleared of snow, nor had it been treated.

  You’re fine, you’ve got a four by four, and this is what it’s for.

  The cars in the lot winked and glistened enticingly in the overhead lights. The only problem was; he was travelling in the wrong direction.

  He glanced in his review mirror and smiled; the patrol car had disappeared. It had apparently pulled off onto some other road.

  He sighed with relief and then sped up once more, following the road for a couple of miles until he reached a slip road that would take him up, onto the main road and back on course to his original destination.

  However, once he’d made it up the icy incline, he discovered that traffic was much heavier and moving much faster than he had anticipated.

  Obviously, this main artery had been gritted sooner and much more effectively.

  He set the handbrake and waited patiently for an opportunity to join the busy stream.

  A glance at the clock told him he was running out of time; the flight would close soon. He needed to ditch the SUV and check in.

  He looked left and finally spotted a large gap, between a bus and a vehicle transporter.

  He pushed the vehicle into gear, gunned the engine and waited for the bus to pass, but just as it was about to do so, just as he was preparing to pull out behind it, he spotted them; about two cars back.

  It was another patrol car! The officer in the passenger seat, face glowing red from the tail lights of the car in front, was looking directly at him and talking on the radio.

  Fuck!

  They were tailing him after all.

  Instinctively, he pushed on the accelerator, the Range Rover lurched forward, but then lost traction and began to spin on the frozen terrain, launching a cloud of mist and ice into the air.

  The move was enough to scare the bus driver into swerving to avoid a collision, but he overcompensated on the black ice and crashed into the central reservation.

  “SHIT!”

  Adam shifted gears and stomped on the accelerator, the SUV heaved forward, in a growl of tyres, just as the deep guttural blast of an angry claxon demanded his attention.

  He looked left, just in time to see two large rectangular headlamps speeding towards him.

  “NOOO!” he breathed as the vehicle carrier slid inexorably towards him.

  The impact was as violent as it was deafening. The monolith slammed into the side of the Range Rover, flipping it over and then rolling it, like a football, twenty metres down the road. Then, it clipped its mangled undercarriage and steamrollered over it, before groaning like a prehistoric creature and collapsing onto its side, spilling its car cargo like ball bearings.

  The officers in the patrol car could only watch in horror as, one by one, more cars slammed into what was left of the Range Rover, until it was no longer identifiable among the wreckage.

  The passenger seat officer picked up the radio and requested immediate assistance, although, judging by the mangled mess of the Range Rover, he doubted
much could be done for its driver.

  71 Claustrophobia

  Ashley had gained and lost consciousness countless times.

  Mercifully, each awakening had not been long enough for her to absorb the reality of where she was, but this time it was different. This time she was compos mentis enough to fully appreciate the horror of her predicament, and she cried for help, but choked on the air that was beginning to taste bitter.

  Her extremities were frozen numb and she had lost sensation in her arms. The rest of her body felt okay, inside the coat she was wearing, the very same coat that was bulking her up and wedging her inside her tomb. This made it nigh on impossible for her to move without the aid of the hands that were bound in front of her.

  The darkness was palpable as was the claustrophobia and the thought of dying alone, buried alive in a makeshift tomb without any hope of anybody ever finding her, without ever seeing Rupert again, his smile, his laugh...

  “NOOOOO!” She screamed and choked again.

  She rocked her body and attempted to sit up, but she simply couldn’t, especially now, since her energy was freezing over just like the world above.

  She wept once more.

  “Help me!” She sobbed, “SOMEBODY, PLEASE HELP ME!”, but the only reply was her own voice, ringing in her ears as she listened carefully for a possible answer.

  And then she felt movement.

  At first she thought she imagined it but then, suddenly, it moved again, scuttling across her hair in the darkness and then down her forehead.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but the beetle fell through her lips! She gagged with revulsion, which caused her to involuntarily bite down, bursting the insect, and spilling its innards into her mouth.

  She spat, choked, coughed and screamed in abject terror, until her energy reserves dwindled, and she lost consciousness once more.

  72 THE Nightmare

  Rachel tried to forget what she had seen in the bedroom, and some food and a few glasses of champagne later, she had succeeded.

  It was Jason’s idea that she should drink some more, as she seemed tense and it was important that she loosen up. So, she accepted each glass as it was brought to her.