Spare Me the Truth_An explosive, high octane thriller

by CJ Carver

  She shouted, ‘Dogs! Come!’

  To her astonishment, both dogs paused in their attack.

  ‘Come!’ she commanded fiercely.

  They hesitated. One of them looked back at Tim who was now on the other side of the balsa wood and legging it across the yard.

  ‘Dogs! Come!’ she tried again, but this time they ignored her and raced after Tim once more. She had to hope she’d given him enough time to hide.

  She clung to the fence, hesitating. Her priority as a police officer was to preserve life. Then to preserve the scene and secure evidence. Should she jump in the car and grab Grace and get help or continue over the fence and try and help Tim Atherton?

  A movement out of the corner of her eye made her click her attention back to the Portakabin. Sirius was stepping outside.

  Lucy’s pulse went into overdrive. She prayed he wouldn’t see Grace running away. Grace was fast, but she wasn’t out of view yet. Lucy froze. She didn’t want to move, bring his attention to her but she may as well have been painted head to toe in Day-Glo yellow because the second his feet hit the pavement, Sirius looked straight at her.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  She clambered up and over the fence as fast as she could, dropping to the other side and racing for cover behind a battered estate car. Her heart was thundering, her skin pouring sweat. She peered around the car’s metal flank to see Sirius was in his vehicle, driving past. He was looking dead ahead, as though he hadn’t seen her.

  She didn’t understand it, but she didn’t have time to make sense of his behaviour.

  Where was Tim Atherton?

  And then she heard the barking.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Grace had fallen into a rhythm. There was no point in sprinting and then collapsing in a heap, so the second she turned the corner at the bottom of the street, she levelled out her speed. Began looking for help.

  More warehouses. More industrial buildings.

  She had to head for a residential area. Shops, buses, traffic, people, life. Her heart soared when, ahead, she saw a van cross the street. Then another.

  She increased her pace.

  When she heard an engine behind her, she paused, looking over her shoulder.

  A cry escaped her throat.

  It was the grey sedan.

  Sirius Thiele was coming after her.

  She hadn’t wanted to leave Lucy without her car, a quick getaway, but now she wished she’d taken it. You fool.

  She faced forward. Began to race for the crossroads.

  She could hear his engine, a smooth hum. It got closer. And closer.

  She began to whimper.

  The car passed her, drove ahead. Then pulled over.

  Sirius climbed out.

  Grace stopped. She stared at him. She felt lightheaded and fought to concentrate.

  He held up her and Lucy’s handbags.

  He said, ‘I have fulfilled my previous contract. I am under no obligations to my previous employer. Which is why I would like to return these items.’

  No way was Grace going to believe anything he said and he seemed to realise this because he nodded and said, ‘I will leave them here.’

  In disbelief she watched him place both handbags on the pavement and return to his car. He looked back at her. Black pebbles in a long face. He looked oddly sad. He said quietly, ‘You’re not stupid. You’re brave.’

  And then he turned and climbed into his sedan and drove away.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Dan heard the dogs going berserk. Deep guttural barks that gradually rose in pitch to a hysterical baying.

  The plastic tie was cutting into his wrist, his fingers starting to numb, but he didn’t move. He lay slumped, motionless, face down, pretending he’d lost consciousness.

  He heard Joe say, ‘What the . . .’

  Then Joe’s footsteps crossing the Portakabin.

  Brief silence.

  ‘Shit,’ he said, then he clicked his fingers twice. ‘The prisoner’s escaped. You two, with me. Alek, guard this prick.’

  Dan counted three pairs of footsteps leaving the Portakabin. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Dan took a peek at Alek, the piggy-eyed guard, who appeared riveted to whatever was happening outside.

  Surreptitiously Dan pressed his fingers against the underside of Savannah’s wrist. Felt her pulse. Thready. It was weakening. If she wasn’t hospitalised soon, she’d die.

  The thought gave him strength.

  He dug in his pocket for his key chain, his little knife.

  But it had gone.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  Grace ran back to the junkyard, giving directions on her phone. She’d slung Lucy’s handbag across her shoulder and now she clutched her voluminous bag against her chest, wishing it wasn’t so heavy, so unwieldy.

  ‘I’m approaching the Portakabin now . . .’ She was panting hard, struggling to keep up her pace.

  ‘Under no circumstances should you approach the premises,’ the policeman told her.

  As she ran past the junkyard she could hear dogs barking furiously. Then she heard a crack!

  Holy crap. It was a gunshot.

  Crack, crack!

  ‘Guns,’ she gasped. ‘They’re shooting.’

  ‘I need you to get out of the area,’ the officer said.

  Where’s Lucy?

  She could hardly breathe now – her lungs were burning – but her legs somehow kept going and she made it to the Portakabin. Chest heaving, she peered through the window. A thick-necked young man with a buzz cut had his back to her. He seemed to be staring through the window overlooking the yard.

  Her eyes went to the figures on the floor. A man and a woman. Tied together. The woman was bleeding and deathly pale.

  She was opening her mouth to tell the officer to call an ambulance when the man looked up, straight at her.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Her head began to buzz.

  ‘What is it?’ the officer demanded urgently.

  ‘It’s Dan.’ Her voice was faint.

  He was a mess. Bruised and bloody, one eye was almost swollen shut and his mouth was also caked in blood, but his one good eye was bright, his expression fierce.

  He showed Grace the plastic tie strapping his wrist to the injured woman. Then he made a sawing motion across the tie and raised his eyebrows at her.

  Dear God. He wanted her to free him.

  No way. She wasn’t cut out for this. Her stomach tightened so much she thought she might be sick. She started to back away. She didn’t want to die.

  Oh for goodness sake, Grace. Her mother’s voice. Stop being so pathetic and help the poor man.

  But I don’t want to!

  You’re much braver than you know. Just do it.

  She heard the policeman’s squawks as she shoved the phone inside her trouser pocket. Her hands were shaking so hard it took two tries before she managed to open her handbag. A quick search showed there was nothing that would cut him free. Lucy’s handbag, however, came up trumps.

  A Swiss Army Knife.

  Trembling, whimpering under her breath, she put both bags on the ground. Palmed the knife and slipped to the Portakabin door. As quietly as she could, she tried the door handle.

  Slowly, it turned.

  When it had gone as far as it could, she pushed the door gently.

  Surely, it has to be locked. Please make it locked so I can go and hide and wait for the police to arrive.

  But it wasn’t.

  She felt a moan lodge in her throat.

  I should wait for the police.

  But what if the woman died in the meantime? Or Dan got shot? How will I live with myself then?

  She was her mother’s daughter, she reminded herself. It was time to prove it.

  She began to open the door.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  The instant Dan saw the door move, he braced himself.

  Slowly, it inched open.

  Grace’s eyes were on A
lek, her face taut with fear.

  But Alek was absorbed in whatever was happening in the yard.

  Grace glanced at Dan. She showed him the distinctive red of a Swiss Army Knife in her palm. Good girl, she’d already opened a blade. He nodded at her, trying to encourage her inside.

  She pushed the door open a little more. Then a little more, until the gap was wide enough for her to creep through. But as she took her first step inside, something creaked.

  Alek turned.

  He stared at Grace.

  ‘Hello,’ said Grace. She was so white Dan wondered how she didn’t faint.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ asked Alek. His piggy eyes looked as though they were about to pop from his head.

  ‘I’m Grace,’ she repeated. Her voice was thin and reedy.

  ‘Who?’

  He began to walk forward and for a moment Dan thought Grace was going to turn around and flee, but instead she sidled into the Portakabin, pulling the door behind her.

  ‘I’m a doctor,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ Alek looked at her as though she was speaking Martian.

  When she took a step towards Dan, Alek said, ‘Keep away from them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just keep away. And keep still, OK?’

  He moved across the room and picked up the phone. He never took his eyes off Grace.

  ‘Who are you ringing?’ she croaked.

  Alek didn’t answer. He dialled, and waited. Nobody appeared to answer but he continued to wait.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Grace, ‘but there are two injured people here. I have to help them.’

  She moved with surprising decisiveness for Dan.

  ‘No,’ Alek interjected. He dropped the phone into the cradle and started for her.

  ‘I’m a doctor,’ Grace snapped.

  And then she was ducked next to Dan and for a moment he thought she wouldn’t be able to cut the tie, she was shaking so badly, but then she put both hands around the body of the knife and jerked the blade upwards, straight through the plastic.

  Dan grabbed the knife. Pushed her to one side and lunged for Alek.

  Alek narrowed his gaze and raised his fist, striking Dan’s shoulder with such force that he was knocked to the floor. Gasping, ignoring his pain, Dan scrambled to his feet and charged Alek, ramming his elbow deep into his kidneys. Before Alek could recover, he rammed him again.

  Alek groaned, doubling over, holding his side from the pain in his right kidney. Instantly Dan punched him in his midriff, just below his breastbone. Twice. The breath rushed out of him. Ooof.

  Alek went down slowly, writhing, struggling to breathe. Dan gripped his chin and put the knife against his throat. Alek continued to gasp but he tried to still his body, his gaze riveted on Dan.

  ‘Tell Grace where the plastic cables are. She wants to tie you up, don’t you Grace?’

  ‘Box,’ Alek choked. ‘Under the table.’

  Dan heard Grace moving but he didn’t turn around. He said, ‘What do you know about Gabriel’s handover tomorrow?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Fear flooded the man’s eyes. ‘I swear it.’

  Dan pushed the knife until it broke the skin. Blood started to trickle down Alek’s throat. The man moaned. ‘Please. I’m only a guard. I don’t know anything about any other stuff.’

  Grace returned to stand at their side. She held out a handful of plastic cables. ‘Just two,’ Dan told her.

  He moved Alek to secure one hand to a heating pipe, the other to one of the table struts. The guard was spread-eagled, able to use only a limited amount of force against his bonds.

  Dan went to Savannah and, with Grace’s help, pulled her into a sitting position. Then he knelt and, bowing before her, let her fall over his shoulder.

  ‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ Grace asked anxiously.

  ‘Yup.’

  He heaved himself to his knees. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop, but he ignored the pain. Shifted his position slightly. Felt Savannah’s weight settle on his shoulder.

  He rose. A wave of dizziness made him stumble to one side but he fought it. Remained upright.

  Walked for the door.

  Grace opened it.

  They stepped outside. Grace picked two bags off the pavement and followed him up the street.

  ‘A policewoman’s gone into the yard,’ she said. ‘Lucy Davies.’ Hastily, she filled him in. ‘I also called the police,’ she added. ‘They should be here any minute.’

  ‘Good.’

  The instant they turned the corner and were out of sight, Dan sank to his knees. He said, ‘Help her.’

  Grace dumped the bags on the ground. Stripped off the woman’s jacket and unclipped her holster. Raised the blood-sodden shirt.

  ‘Pass me my phone,’ she said urgently. ‘It’s in the big bag.’

  While she put pressure on the woman’s wound, checked her vital signs – not great – he upended her bag on the ground. Passed the phone over. She dialed 999. Demanded an ambulance, paramedics, blue lights.

  Dan said, ‘Stay with her.’

  She looked up to see he was already stumbling back to the junkyard.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  Sweat pouring, heart thundering, Lucy crept through the yard.

  The dogs continued their hysterical barking.

  She slunk past a pile of old shipping pallets. The barking grew louder.

  Then she saw them.

  Tim Atherton was atop a crushed mini-van. The dogs were leaping at him, jaws snapping, but he stood just out of reach.

  Before him stood another man, tall and lean, neatly dressed in dark trousers, white shirt and jacket. He didn’t look as though he belonged here. He looked as though he should be in a corporate meeting. He appeared to be talking to Tim but Lucy couldn’t hear what he was saying above the barking.

  Then Lucy saw a heavy-set man appear. Brown hair, fleshy lips. He wore strips of tape over a nose which looked as though it had been recently broken. His clothes were bloodstained, the skin around his eyes swelling. He was smoking a cigarette. As she watched, he said something to the Suit who brought out a gun, trained it on Tim.

  The man with the cigarette walked to a shipping container and opened the door. Then he called the dogs to him. Stood by the container with the dogs at his side.

  The Suit spoke to Tim.

  Tim shook his head.

  The Suit fired his gun.

  Crack!

  Tim jumped. Began to scramble off the van.

  The Suit indicated the container. Tim took a step backwards.

  The man sent the dogs for Tim. Tim flung up his hands and yelled. This time she heard him.

  ‘OK, OK!’

  The man called off his dogs once more.

  Tim walked unsteadily to the container.

  Lucy wanted to break up the tableau. Give Tim another chance. She looked around. Grabbed what appeared to be part of an old bicycle pump. Lobbed it as hard as she could away from her.

  CLANG.

  All three men turned their heads towards the sound.

  Lucy immediately crawled away, looking for somewhere safe to hide. She didn’t want the dogs to rip her to pieces. She wriggled past a pile of washing machines, heading for a rusting, burned-out Jeep carcass.

  She heard a noise behind her and her adrenaline spiked. She raised her body to sprint away from it but hands grabbed her shirt, lifting her by the collar and slamming her against the side of a car.

  A bulky man with bulging shoulders stood in front of her, holding her up by her throat. She clutched his hand, gasping but he didn’t relax his grip. She felt her feet leave the ground.

  His breath smelled of stale onions and cigarettes.

  He said something but it was in another language and she didn’t understand. Was he Russian? Albanian?

  Her legs swung wildly but she couldn’t reach him.

  Desperately she tried to breathe.

  Suddenly, a man silently loomed behind her att
acker. He raised his fist and slammed it against her attacker’s head.

  There was a soft chock. Like the sound of an axe hitting wood.

  Her attacker’s eyes rolled upwards and his mouth opened. He released his grip on her throat.

  Her feet met the ground at the same moment the man crumpled into a heap.

  Holding her throat, panting, she looked at the man who’d knocked him out. He had a smashed up face, bruised and bloody with one eye almost swollen shut. He held a small rock cupped in his hand.

  For a second neither of them spoke. Then she said, ‘Who the hell are you?’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Dan hurried to the container with Lucy on his heels. He’d told her to stay where she was, that the police had been alerted by Grace, but she’d ignored him, wired to the max, convinced Tim Atherton was going to be killed any second.

  He couldn’t argue with her. He’d seen Besnik and his dogs, heard Joe tell Tim to get into the container.

  Once Tim was inside, Joe would shoot him. Seal it up and send it overseas. And if he wasn’t careful, he and Lucy would suffer the same fate.

  But time was running out for Joe.

  The police were on their way.

  All Dan and Lucy had to do was disarm Joe. Contain the dogs. Get Besnik and his men to see sense and surrender.

  Yeah, right.

  They were two goons down. Only another two to go, but where were they? At that moment, he saw Jacks. He was standing next to the container with Besnik. He held a pistol at his side. He was jumpy, obviously waiting for an explanation of the loud ‘clang’ Lucy had made, but Besnik didn’t look too worried. He clearly had more faith in his goons than Jacks did.

  Dan turned to Lucy. Outlined his plan.

  ‘No way.’ Her eyes were wide with alarm. ‘It’s suicide. Neither of us have a weapon and besides, you’re a mess. You can barely see through one eye it’s so swollen.’

  He ignored her. Began to move away.

  ‘Dan,’ she hissed.

  He kept going.

  ‘Dan!’

  He ducked down, beginning to track around the yard.

  He heard her say fuck, but he didn’t pause. Keeping low, he continued his progress towards the men and the container. When he’d positioned himself to his satisfaction, he rose. Straightened his shoulders and walked into sight.