Survive

by Tom Bale

  It’s heaven. With every bite, Jody wants to squeal with pleasure. She has to fight off the constant urge to be grateful. It might be a lot more comfortable here, but she can’t let herself forget that their status hasn’t changed.

  They are still prisoners.

  69

  There are moments, while he eats, that Sam actually manages to relax. So does Jody, but each time they do it’s quickly followed by a look of furious concentration. Neither of them can avoid the issue of what’s going to happen next.

  Sam thought about it while he showered and dressed. It was on his mind when he picked up the grubby torn trousers he’d worn on the beach and went to throw them in the waste bin. Then he remembered what was in the pocket, and quickly transferred it to the shorts he’s wearing now. Luckily, Jody had already gone across to Grace’s room. Better Jody doesn’t know.

  His conclusion, when he goes over it again, is that they were naive to think they might be driven to the airport or returned to their hotel. It’s even occurred to him that the people who died before – the Danes and the Germans and whoever else – might have gone through this stage: rescued from the beach and promised it was all over, only to be taken somewhere else and killed.

  There’s no way of discussing it without upsetting Dylan, so Sam says nothing. After they’ve eaten, they return to Grace’s room and sit around her bed, watching her sleep. Soon Dylan has dozed off in his mother’s arms, and at the nurse’s suggestion they lie him on the bed next to his sister.

  They hear the main door open – Sam has checked and found that it’s kept locked, with a couple of guards patrolling outside – and Gabby appears. She too has taken the chance to freshen up since they last saw her. With her hair and make-up in place, she seems to have regained her confidence. It’s like being back on the coach from the airport: she’s in charge; their job is to sit back and listen.

  ‘Good breakfast, guys? That’s brilliant. You all look so much better. And the children are sleeping – lovely! Now, Borko can’t wait to meet you. He’s so impressed by the way you handled this. Do you want to follow me? We can sit on the terrace–’

  ‘We’re not leaving the kids,’ Jody says.

  ‘But it’s just across–’

  ‘I don’t care. We’re staying close to our children.’

  Gabby huffs out a sigh and shifts her weight from one hip to the other, like a teenager protesting at her curfew.

  ‘Give me two seconds.’

  ‘You agree, don’t you?’ Jody asks Sam when Gabby has gone.

  ‘Course I do.’

  He hugs her, as if to prove it, but Jody won’t be mollified so easily. Sam doesn’t seem nearly as hostile towards Gabby as he should be, and that makes Jody suspicious. Surely he hasn’t been suckered by her charms.

  The rep soon returns, accompanied by a severe-looking man in his fifties, dressed in suit trousers and a crisp white shirt. Jody immediately recognises him as the man at the Conchis who dismissed their concerns about the chaos in the playroom. Naji Hussein.

  They agree to leave the children in the nurse’s care and gather in the living room. Naji orders more refreshments, and explains that Borko will join them ‘imminently’.

  He goes on to say, ‘I’m sure you have many questions, but first let me congratulate you both. You met every challenge with tenacity and courage, and we wish to salute you for your performance.’

  Performance? Jody is at first taken aback, then disgusted by his praise.

  ‘You’re talking as though we had a choice. We were dumped there and held against our will.’

  Naji bows his head with regret. ‘And we are here, now, to discuss compensation.’ He peers at them, perhaps hoping to spot dollar signs in their eyes, like in the cartoons. Jody makes sure to glare at him instead.

  He says, ‘If you had been forewarned, it would not have had the same… validity. Or, to be frank, the same value.’

  ‘Value?’ Jody says. ‘You mean as entertainment?’

  He nods. ‘Your exploits were shown to a selected audience of, er, quite exceptional individuals. Borko, as you saw at the Conchis, is a man with a vibrant imagination. It’s just unfortunate that you could not be informed of the… arrangement from the beginning.’

  Jody can see that Sam is struggling to understand. His frustration is expressed by a spluttering laugh.

  ‘“Unfortunate”? You’ve treated us like slaves. Like animals in a fucking zoo. If you’d done this in our country you’d be in prison.’

  Naji only raises an eyebrow, as though he’s not so sure about that.

  The conversation is interrupted by Borko’s arrival. He strides into the room, looking around with a vague air of distaste. He is taller than Jody remembers, taller, leaner, and physically – though it sickens her to admit it, given how much she now despises him – very attractive. It’s as if he comes enveloped in some tremendous force field, radiating energy at everyone around him.

  He catches Jody’s eye and she feels her face reddening with anger and embarrassment. But he seems not to notice, his gaze moving swiftly on to Sam.

  ‘Incredible. An extraordinary family.’ Borko turns back to Jody. ‘I mean it.’

  ‘I was saying the same thing,’ Naji says in an oily voice. ‘Naturally they have some, ah, objections to their treatment.’

  ‘I expect they do.’ Borko settles cheerfully in an armchair and slaps his palms on his knees. ‘Some more good news: Anton has regained consciousness. It is hoped that both he and Luka will make a full recovery from their injuries.’

  Jody can tell that Sam has got the message. With a defiant sniff, he says, ‘I don’t give a toss about them. You wanted us to die out there.’

  Naji starts to protest but Borko silences him with a flick of his hand.

  ‘I had faith in your abilities. I knew you would survive.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Sam retorts. ‘So what about the people before us? Did you have faith in them, too, before they died?’

  70

  Gabby is willing Sam to shut up. Earlier she thought she’d bonded with him, to an extent; made him see how important it was to stay composed and follow her lead.

  Now there’s an icy silence. Borko’s friendly demeanour is still in place, but it’s as delicate as the froth on Gabby’s coffee.

  ‘I think you must know something I don’t,’ he says. ‘Who are you talking about?’

  Borko sounds so genuinely baffled that Sam is thrown off balance. Gabby has to stifle a snort as the poor man sends his partner an uncertain glance, and he doesn’t get a particularly supportive look in return.

  ‘I read it online,’ Sam says. ‘There was a boat accident last year. Three Danish guys. And before that, a young couple disappeared while scuba diving.’

  Borko tuts. ‘How tragic. But these events have nothing to do with us.’

  At last, Jody comes to her husband’s rescue. ‘You’ve done it before, though? Put other people in the same position?’

  ‘Broadly speaking, yes.’

  ‘You searched for these incidents on the internet?’ Naji interrupts. ‘When? You had no access…’

  ‘Or did you find a laptop on the beach?’ Borko adds drily.

  ‘It was before all this,’ Sam admits. ‘I was looking for a boat trip.’

  ‘So what reason do you have to believe there’s a connection?’ Borko asks, still sounding plausibly innocent.

  Sam has gone bright red; his voice at first comes out as a squeak. ‘What abo–what about Dylan, that stunt with the chain? If he’d drowned, are you saying we’d still be sitting here now, talking about… compensation?’

  Borko weighs up the question. ‘We think very carefully about the nature of the challenges we set. Nothing you encountered was quite as dangerous as it appeared.’

  Gabby remains impassive through this bare-faced lie, recalling the key that Dylan threw away.

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ Jody mutters, while Sam gives a disgusted sigh.

  ‘Why us?’ he
asks.

  For a moment Borko looks lost. Then he shrugs. ‘I saw you at the airport. I was in the control room when your little boy ran off to look at the soldiers. My instincts told me that you – your family – would rise to the occasion. And you did.’

  ‘So that makes it all right?’ Jody sounds ready to explode, but Gabby knows she can’t intervene without drawing unwelcome attention. It’s crucial that Borko and Naji go on trusting her.

  Looking slightly apprehensive himself, Sam tries: ‘Jode, maybe we–’

  ‘No, I’m going to have my say. This is what my dad was talking about – the great greed.’ Staring straight at Borko, she says, ‘There was a time when the rich and powerful used to at least make it look like they cared about laws, and rules, and decency. Now, because you’re so rich, so powerful, you don’t even have to pretend anymore, do you? And why would you, when a… a Russian dictator can use radioactive poison to kill people on the streets of Britain, and the Prime Minister just shrugs and moves on. A Saudi prince can get a troublesome journalist dismembered – a man who worked for an American newspaper – and the American president just shrugs and moves on. And now, right here, the son of a warlord can capture and torture a family to give his friends a laugh… and afterwards? Well, we’re expected to shrug and move on, because that’s how it is these days. Crime after crime, in broad bloody daylight, and no one gets punished.’

  There’s a stunned silence. Gabby wants the ground to swallow her up – on Jody’s behalf, at least – but Jody is glowing with righteous anger, and Sam, far from disapproving, looks like he’ll faint with pride.

  Borko remains relatively poker-faced; Gabby suspects the hint of amusement on the surface masks a profound fury, and a loathing for these ‘little people’ who would dare to dispute the limits of his power.

  There’s a long moment when she has no idea how this will go. Finally it’s Naji, after flashing an unanswered glance at his boss, who clears his throat to catch their attention.

  ‘You should know,’ he says quietly, ‘that the sum proposed for reparations is three hundred thousand euros.’

  As the fury and frustration comes pouring out of her, Jody is aware of a burning hostility, barely held in check by the two men. And when she catches Gabby’s eye, Jody can tell the rep is worried for her safety.

  You’ve gone too far, she thinks. This is a full-on tirade, and a man like Borko won’t stand for it.

  But he still hasn’t said a word, and now his sidekick has put a number on their misery. Jody can’t pretend she isn’t floored by it, but neither is she gratified. Her instinctive response is suspicion.

  ‘And how would that work?’ she asks. ‘We can’t get on a plane with a suitcase full of cash.’

  ‘No, no.’ Naji produces an unremarkable brown envelope. ‘To avoid questions from the authorities, it will take the form of a lottery win. That way you can bank it in England without attracting any liability for tax.’

  ‘Put some away for the children,’ Borko suggests, in a lacklustre tone. ‘A college fund. The first car.’

  ‘But treat yourselves as well, eh, guys?’ Gabby says, though the words come out with a forced jollity that fools no one.

  ‘Oh, maybe we’ll splash out on a dream holiday?’ Jody retorts, with a withering glance at Gabby. ‘Can you recommend a resort where we won’t get abducted and tortured?’

  Borko sucks air between his teeth, and quietly says, ‘It is a very fair offer.’

  ‘And what are the terms?’ Sam asks. ‘I suppose we can’t tell anyone?’

  ‘Correct,’ Naji says. ‘But that is the only condition we impose.’

  ‘What about our children?’ Jody asks, even as she realises that the question could put them at risk. ‘We can’t force them to say nothing.’

  Borko only shrugs, dismissively. ‘They’re kids.’

  In other words, no one will listen to them.

  Jody and Sam make eye contact for a moment before Sam abruptly looks away, shaking his head. Whether that means he’s tempted to accept – or he thinks Jody is tempted but shouldn’t be – Jody isn’t sure.

  ‘Lots to consider, so why not talk it over?’ Gabby advises them. ‘Best if you stay here while you recover, let Grace build up her strength. Then you can either resume your holiday, or we’ll arrange a flight home–’

  ‘Home!’ Jody almost shouts the word, and this time they’re in perfect agreement.

  ‘We wanna get out of here as soon as we can,’ Sam offers Borko a sarcastic grin. ‘No offence, eh?’

  Borko stands, eager to be on his way. He looks more bored than angry with them, Sam thinks, as if mentally he’s already ticked this chore off his list.

  Naji and Gabby are also getting to their feet, so it seems natural for Sam to rise with them, and just as natural to slip a hand into the pocket of his shorts.

  He’s had an eye out for a better weapon since they were shown into this building. He still hasn’t ruled out using one of the heavy glass tumblers – smash it against a table and shove it into Borko’s throat – but it’s a risk, because you don’t know how effectively the glass will break. He saw his brother do it once, in a pub, but the glass shattered into tiny pieces and left Carl looking like a twat.

  It’s decision time. There’s a glass within reach, but Sam’s hand is already closing around the nail he prised out of the wooden stake, back on their first day as prisoners. If he holds it between his fingers, he can punch Borko in the neck and drive the nail as deep as it’ll go.

  And then what?

  Gabby says something about leaving them to rest. There’s a flicker of alarm in her eyes as she registers how intently he’s staring at Borko. Deep down, Sam knows this won’t achieve anything – Naji and the guards will be on him in an instant, and there’s enough medical expertise on hand to keep Borko alive, even if Sam gets a direct hit on an artery – but at the same time, what sort of man would pass up an opportunity for revenge?

  He’s a coward if he doesn’t do it.

  His hand slips free of the pocket, his fingers working the nail into place. He reckons it should penetrate a couple of centimetres at least, maybe deeper if he can flatten his hand out–

  Then Jody’s jumping up, saying, ‘Give us a couple of hours.’ She eases in front of him, and her hand brushes against his as if accidentally making contact – only to go rigid, her fingers splaying out to block his path.

  No one else seems to have guessed what he was planning, although Gabby maybe has an idea. She steps aside for Borko and Naji to leave first, then follows them along the hall.

  Jody turns on Sam, hissing, ‘What were you going to do?’

  Sam shoves his hand in his pocket. He’s trying to come up with an explanation when Gabby hurries back, checking over her shoulder to make sure she’s alone. She too glares furiously at Sam.

  ‘Do you want to get yourself killed?’

  71

  All of Jody’s instincts say she should defend her husband, but it’s difficult when she is livid with him for the exact same reason.

  ‘That’s gonna happen anyway, isn’t it?’ Sam mutters.

  ‘No, actually. It isn’t.’ Again Gabby makes sure they’re not being overheard. ‘Borko had two options here, and I worked my butt off to get you the good one. Three hundred thousand euros, remember!’

  ‘What’s the other option?’ Jody asks, sure that her worst fears are being confirmed.

  Gabby assesses her carefully before replying. Her tone becomes brisk, unemotional; all traces of the bubbly, superficial rep have vanished. ‘If you don’t play ball, you’ll be put under sedation for several days. The drugs basically wipe your recent memory, and they’ll probably use hallucinogenics as well, to scramble your brain and make it impossible to know what’s real or imagined.’

  Jody shudders. ‘The children, as well?’

  ‘All of you. Then you’ll be moved to a private hospital. When you come round you’ll be told that the whole family went down with a serious infectio
n.’

  ‘And they’ve done that before, have they?’ Sam asks.

  ‘At least two occasions that Borko’s admitted to. And it works. Anything you remember will be dismissed as a bad dream.’

  ‘Except we’d all have the same dream,’ Jody points out.

  ‘So what? Nobody will be interested, not when the paperwork supports the official version of events.’

  It’s almost exactly what Sam predicted last night. Jody tries to imagine how it would feel to wake after several days and find that her nightmares were identical to Sam’s. The disorientation, the anguish could destroy your sanity.

  A long sigh, then she squares up to the rep. ‘That’s what will happen if we don’t accept the cheque? You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes. Can you understand now why I’m trying to keep everything on track?’

  Sam looks doubtful. ‘I still don’t see why Borko would trust us. We could take the money and then go to the police once we’re home.’

  ‘Or the media,’ Jody chips in.

  ‘You could,’ Gabby agrees. ‘But you won’t be able to prove a thing. And anyway, guys, let’s face it – if you’ve got all that money, why risk creating hassle for yourselves? Why not just enjoy it?’

  Gabby leaves the guest block believing she has averted disaster. Sam and Jody are bound to see sense and accept the money, so this time tomorrow the family should be on a plane home, and Gabby can look forward to getting her life back on track.

  And yet the unease lingers. She crosses to the main house, expecting to find Borko in the living room, but it’s empty. There seem to be far fewer staff in evidence today, she realises. Fewer witnesses?

  Half the doors to the terrace are open, even though the aircon is gamely working away. She moves closer and hears voices, hushed and fast, and in their own language, which is difficult enough to comprehend at the best of times.