‘Excellent,’ he shouted. ‘Let me see if I can do that again.’
He repeated the exercise three more times, and on two occasions the hanger caught Hedge’s backside perfectly, with the result that even more pain was inflicted upon him.
Hedge was seriously hurting by now, and he had howled each time the metal had made contact. This noise had brought three more senior boys into the room and they were quizzing Jenkins on what he was up to.
Rick Bradshaw, one of the newly arrived seniors thought this was great, and he dragged another junior boy out of his bed. This latest victim had the nickname Porky, as he was always eating, and consequently had rather a large protruding stomach.
‘Porky, get your fat arse over here and stand facing your bed,’ said Bradshaw.
He grabbed the coat hanger off Jenkins, and told the quivering Porky to ‘assume the position.’
Bradshaw mastered the technique immediately, and after several strokes with the coat hanger Porky’s backside was looking quite sore. As Hedge had done, the junior boy had shrieked loudly each time the hanger had clipped his rear.
‘Hey, I've got a brilliant idea. Watch this, it’s going to be great,’ exclaimed Bradshaw.
With that, he moved closer to Porky, and pushed him forward so that he was leaning further over his own bed. Then he put his hand between the junior boy’s legs, grabbed his testicles, and pulled them hard towards his backside.
‘Squeeze your legs in as tight as you can,’ Bradshaw ordered.
Porky did as he was told. The result was that he was now bending over with his backside sticking out, and his testicles protruding just underneath.
‘Lean down just a bit further, we want to make this work,’ said Bradshaw. He had the air of someone conducting a scientific experiment.
‘The idea is this,’ he began to explain to his fellow seniors. ‘I intend to bring down the coat hanger, clip the backside, then carry on and strike the overhanging testicles. The pain should be intense, but timing is going to be everything. I call this routine “the double whammy”. Let's see if it works.’
The other seniors were watching excitedly. Even the juniors were staring at the scene, but with mixed feelings. Porky started trembling, and he was biting his lower lip nervously. It was highly embarrassing standing in the position he was in, but he was too scared to move or complain.
Bradshaw held the hanger up high and brought it down fast. His execution of his plan was immaculate first time, and both backside and testicles were struck with perfect precision. Porky cried out and fell down holding his groin. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he curled up on the floor.
The other senior boys cheered and clapped.
‘Amazing,’ shouted Jenkins. He went to grab the hanger back off Bradshaw, keen to try the new trick out for himself.
He stopped in his tracks though, as he heard the housemaster’s voice in the corridor just outside the junior’s dormitory.
‘What's all this commotion about,’ the housemaster was bellowing.
The senior boys all turned and ran out through the door at one end of the dormitory, just as the housemaster came in the door at the other end.
The housemaster looked round and surveyed the scene. He could see two junior boys out of bed. Hedge sat on the edge of his mattress, with a pained expression on his face. Porky was still lying on the floor, his hands clutching his groin.
‘You two boys get back into your beds immediately,’ he shouted. ‘Stop all this noise all of you. If I have to come back here again tonight, there will be some serious punishments handed out. Now get to sleep and keep these lights turned off.’
He banged the door shut and walked off back down the corridor.
The dormitory went quiet, apart from the constant sniffling coming from Porky. He had not enjoyed being the victim of the ‘double’. Hedge and the other boys tried to ignore the noise and get some sleep. It wasn’t easy.
There were other times when the bullying at Upperdale was just as bad, but Hedge thought he had talked enough for now.
‘Seems you had some nice people at your school then?’ Cole laughed as he said this.
They were interrupted as the pilot’s voice came over the aircraft speaker system to explain that they were now beginning their descent into Dubai airport.
Hedge fastened his seat belt and sat back in his chair. He became aware of a change in the engine noise as the plane started to descend. There was also a pain in his ears developing caused by the gradual loss of height. He held his nose, and with his mouth closed he pushed from the back of his throat to try and clear his ears. It worked to a degree, and the discomfort subsided a little. He felt thirsty and made a note to get another drink as soon as they had landed. He had deliberately not drunk too much on the flight as he had a concern around his waterworks ever since the trauma he had suffered at the Royal Hotel earlier in the day. Or was it yesterday, he wasn’t sure.
The aircraft touched down on the runway of Dubai airport. Hedge wondered to himself what was going to happen to him next. It couldn’t be any worse than his last twenty four hours. Could it?
Chapter Twenty One
Once they had cleared through passport control and customs, the three of them climbed into a black saloon car that had pulled up at the airport entrance. It was five o’clock in the morning and Dubai looked quiet. The sun was just nudging up over the horizon and it cast long shadows across the terminal area. It was going to be a hot day, and the air was still. Hedge took off his sweatshirt and stuffed it in his bag. The saloon car was driven by a short, well-tanned guy with a black moustache. The pick-up was clearly arranged in advance as no instructions or directions were passed to the driver.
The car pulled away and accelerated out of the airport and onto the large six lane highway that links Dubai airport with the rest of the metropolis. It was a strange sight looking out of the vehicle as they sped along. Hedge could see hundreds of tall buildings, all new. Some were only half built and others were as yet just blocks of concrete jutting out of the earth. In the distance he recognised the Burj Khalifa - the tallest building in the world. It looked enormous and was in fact a vertical city, housing thousands of apartments, and hundreds of shops and restaurants. Hedge had read somewhere that the building was over eight hundred and twenty metres high, and that some twenty thousand people had worked on its construction at any one time. Mainly Indians, of course, or Philippino’s possibly, he thought to himself.
Hedge knew a little about Dubai already, as one of his friends at Cambridge had originally come from this part of the world, and had talked quite a bit about the region.
His friend had told him that Dubai is one of the seven states that make up the country known as the United Arab Emirates, often just called the Emirates, or UAE for short. Dubai is the most highly populated city in the country, with around two million inhabitants. It is also the most expensive city in which to live in the entire Middle East region.
Hedge was impressed with what he was witnessing as the car raced through the light early morning traffic. He had read somewhere that the initial growth of Dubai had been mainly funded from oil discovered during the 1960’s, but in more recent times oil revenue has only accounted for a small proportion of its income. Most of the country’s current wealth comes from tourism, financial services, and of course real estate. Dubai has become synonymous with extravagant building projects such as large, expensive hotels, man-made island clusters and skyscraper buildings.
The country lies on the Persian Gulf coast, and shares borders with some of its fellow Emirates, including Abu Dhabi to the south west. In addition, it has a border with the Sultanate of Oman to the south east.
Hedge also knew a little about Dubai as a financial centre, as this area of the economy had been growing in recent years. The country is important for banking in the region, and has the most important stock exchange in the Middle East. It also controls a lot of precious metal trade and so it has become known as ‘The city of gold.
’
Hedge continued to gaze out of the window as the car sped along. Eventually they pulled up alongside a three storey block just off the main highway. The building had no signage to indicate what it was. They entered by a side door and walked up to the second floor. Cole led the way and clearly he had been here before. He knocked at a metal door, and shouted to be let in. A harsh voice on the other side asked who it was but threw open the door when he heard Cole’s voice a second time.
‘Hey Cole it’s great to see you again, how you been keeping man.’
‘Good thanks Angel,’ Cole replied. ‘How the hell are you? You seem to have put on weight since we last met, you still eating those Danish pastries that lady of yours is so good at making.’
Angel laid his hands defensively across his belly, looked at Cole with a gesture of innocence, and finally laughed loudly. He was clearly delighted to see his old friend.
They chatted for a few minutes more and then Cole introduced Fuller and Hedge. Angel shook hands with Fuller and then turned and gave Hedge a hard stare.
‘You look like a little fish out of water,’ he said to Hedge, but then a wide smile settled across his face.
Hedge realised that his nervousness was visible for all to see. He felt like he didn’t belong on this trip. He should be back at home in London, watching television with his cousin or having a workout at the local gym. Instead he was meeting some dubious character at a non-descript building in the middle of Dubai. He should be coming to this country to sunbathe and shop, not to find some woman who had been torturing him for information. Hedge was sweating, but then they all were as the air was humid.
Angel eventually held out his hand and said ‘Hi, good to meet you, whoever you are.’
Hedge shook his hand and feeling a little bolder he said, ‘that’s an interesting name you got there, but it doesn’t really suit you.’
Angel was a tall man with a shaven head and a nasty scar just above his left eye. He must have weighed over two hundred pounds but he looked fit, and tough.
‘No doubt Cole here will have given you the full story before your arrival,’ he said slightly sarcastically.
‘Not yet no, but I am happy to relive that particular joyous moment if you like,’ said Cole.
He then went on to explain that Angel’s real name was Tim, but no one ever called him that anymore. Not since that cold winter’s day in Norway many years ago when he and Angel were on an Army Special Forces exercise. Part of the final day’s training was to do a parachute jump from three thousand feet. The day of the jump was windy and the sky was overcast. After they had exited from the aircraft it had been virtually impossible to steer their parachutes in any particular direction, and visibility had been dreadful. Cole had eventually come down to earth safely but Angel had not. He was blown into a large group of fir trees and unfortunately for him, he had landed directly on top of one of them. Luckily though, the only damage he received was from a sharp branch that had stuck straight into his backside. It was a painful wound and the hard wood had penetrated around five inches into his left buttock. The rescue crew had said he looked just like ‘an Angel stuck on a Christmas tree.’ They had cut him down eventually but only after they had taken several photographs and had all fallen about laughing. The wound in his backside took around three months to heal, but the name didn’t go away.
They all smiled at the story. Angel had heard it many times, but he thought it was a pretty good name, so he didn’t mind.
The mood changed noticeably when Angel led them through to a back room and pulled the lid of a large, wooden crate in the corner.
‘I can give some gear, but it mustn’t be traced back to me. You need to look after them, and dump them all when you have finished.’
He handed Cole a black handgun.
‘It’s a Glock 17, fourth generation, or Gen4 they call it. Nine bullets, 19mm Parabellums, it’s a lovely piece.’
‘That’s really nice,’ said Cole as he examined the weapon.
Angel passed Cole two spare magazines and then handed Fuller the same gun and spare magazines.
Cole looked at Angel with a tentative smile. ‘Sorry Angel, but we have to get going, thanks for your help, catch up for a beer before we head back to the UK.’
Cole disappeared out of the door, followed closely by Fuller. Hedge was about to follow them, but Angel called him back.
‘Hey don’t forget your piece.’
With that he handed Hedge the same handgun and magazines as the other two. He smiled as he patted him on the back. ‘Enjoy’ he said.
Chapter Twenty Two
Hedge wasn’t sure that he should be carrying a gun, but in a strange way he quite liked the idea. Cole and Fuller had disappeared down the stairs and so he decided not to mention that he had been given his own Glock. They probably hadn’t realised. He stuffed the pistol and spare magazines into his backpack and chased after the other two.
‘He was carrying a gun,’ he kept thinking to himself. It felt odd but quite good. It somehow made him more confident than he would normally be. He noticed he walked with a bit more of a swagger and a smile crept onto his face. Yes, it felt good. He had no idea how to use it, of course, and he needed to find a way of resolving that problem.
They drove a few miles further down towards the coast and pulled the car up outside a tall glass building with the name ‘Palm Sands Hotel’ across the front. They all checked in without any fuss, and it was decided they would catch up on sleep and then meet in the evening to discuss their plans. Their vehicle needed to be taken to the official hotel car park around the back of the building, so Hedge offered to move it. Cole gave him the car keys, and then he and Fuller headed upstairs to their rooms.
Hedge got back into the car and drove it round to the parking area. He sat quietly for a moment wondering what was going to happen to him next. He wasn’t tired as he had slept on the plane and he was too anxious to think about sleep. As well as feeling concerned about his situation, there was something else too, he was excited. He always felt as if his life was just a bit too dull, and that maybe something else was waiting for him. However, he was fairly certain that being tied to a bed and tortured was not what he was looking for, although in a weird way it had given him a bit of a buzz. He shuddered though as he remembered how terrified he had been during his ordeal with Monica. Did she have family somewhere who were now wondering where she was? Perhaps Blake would come after him some time in the future to find out what had happened to her. He dismissed the thought and came back to the present.
He glanced across at his bag which was lying on the passenger seat, and he suddenly remembered the Glock. He wanted to try it out and so a simple plan began to form in his head. He started the car up again and headed out of the hotel parking area. Next he turned into a narrow side road and then re-joined the main highway. He needed somewhere quiet and remote. He drove for several miles along the Sheikh Zayed Road, until he saw a sign for the main route to Oman. Here he turned off and drove out of the built up city area. The scenery started to change, firstly from modern buildings, then to more run down houses, and finally to scrub and desert. He carried on driving and after another ten miles or so he could see nothing but desert and rocky outcrops in every direction. He pulled off the road and got out of the car. It was hot, the sun was beating down, and the air was heavy and humid. He wished he had remembered to bring a drink along as his throat started to feel dry.
‘This will do,’ he said to himself.
He walked off across the dry surface counting out a hundred paces and then put his bag down. All around him the scenery was the same rolling sand with occasional grey or black rocks jutting out. Directly in front of him, and breaking the monotony, was a small pool of water, maybe around twenty metres across. The water looked clear but he could see the tracks where animals had occasionally stopped to drink.
‘Camels probably,’ he said to himself, but he had no idea if that was true or not. It could have been any animal for all he
knew.
Hedge pulled out the Glock and inspected it. It felt small but quite heavy. The surface of the gun seemed to be made from a hard kind of plastic. There was a small button on the side and he pointed the gun away from him, just in case, and pressed this button. There was a quiet click and the bottom of the magazine appeared below the handle of the gun. He pulled the magazine out and noticed that it had what appeared to be real bullets in it. The top one was a copper colour and it was shiny and clean. Hedge felt like a naughty schoolboy and looked around him in all directions just to check that he was alone still. There was nothing in sight apart from sand and rocks. He pushed the magazine back into the handle of the gun, laid the weapon down on the sand, and then paced out twenty metres in front of him. He found a large black rock and dug into the sand leaving most of the face of the rock stuck up above the surface. He walked back to where he had placed the gun, and checked that he could still see his target. Picking up the Glock, he carefully aimed along the barrel in the direction of the rock. He remembered that most weapons had a safety catch on them, but he spent a full minute looking at the gun again but couldn’t see one.
‘What the hell!’ he said to himself, and lined the gun up with the rock again. He put his finger around the trigger and pulled gently. Nothing happened. He pulled harder, but still nothing.
‘Shit!’ he thought, what was wrong with it. Perhaps it was broken or maybe he had been given a replica gun on purpose, just so the others could have a laugh.
He lifted the pistol again and aimed high into the horizon. He squeezed the trigger hard but it had the same result as before. There was no sound, no recoil, no nothing. He was annoyed that he had wasted his time coming all the way out here. He started to put the gun back into his bag just a thought came to him. On the television they always say the phrase ‘chamber a round’. Perhaps it wasn’t loaded properly. He picked up the weapon again and pulled back the slider on top of the barrel. It flowed back smoothly and he felt the handle vibrate slightly. There was a definite click as he let go of the slider mechanism, and he noticed that the trigger had moved forward to a new position.
The Palindrome Cult: A gripping, page-turning, crime suspense thriller, its fast pace takes you from London to New York, via Dubai and the Virgin Islands. (Hedge & Cole Book 1) Page 9
