by Tom Bale
sight of the Cadillac driver being chased by armed men.
'That fisherman from this afternoon is part of it, too,’ he told her.
'I saw him at the bridge.’
'Our litter lout? I had wondered if he was. He looked like a hoodlum.’
She tutted. 'No matter. The past can’t be undone. We must focus on
what lies ahead.’
Joe couldn’t help grinning. Angela might have been gearing up
for a campaign against an environmental outrage or an unpopular
government policy, not facing a gang of heavily armed criminals from
a position of utter weakness.
But she was absolutely right.
They continued to talk in low voices. By pooling their knowledge
they managed to put names to most of the gang. The dead men were
Manderson and Allotti. The Irishman who seemed to be in charge
was indeed called Liam. His second-in-command was Turner, the
man who’d punched Joe in the chest.
Oliver Felton was initially reluctant to contribute. He’d been held
next door on his own for some time, but steadfastly refused to discuss
what had happened. Finally he revealed that the woman whom Joe
had seen in the kitchen was called Priya, and she too enjoyed a senior
status.
The man guarding them was named Eldon. According to Angela
he seemed timid and out of his depth. Hearing that, Joe wished he’d
stormed the garage when he’d had the chance. Now Eldon had been
joined by the bridge guard who’d helped capture Joe. His name was
Pen dry.
So nine people in total, including Yuri and the fisherman, Cough.
Two dead, leaving six men and one woman. Not great odds, Joe thought.
Throughout the discussion the American had remained quiet. Now
he weighed in. 'This is a two-bit operation. And they’re a bunch of
lousy amateurs.’ He spoke loudly enough for the guards to hear.
'Doesn’t feel like that from where I’m sitting,’ Terry Fox muttered.
The American ignored him, fixing his gaze on Joe. You agree
with me?’
'Maybe.’ Joe didn’t care for the American’s tone, implying as it did
that they might share a common outlook.
'They just got lucky,’ the American assured them. And this guy
Liam? He may be running the show on the ground, but there’ll be a
whole other layer above him. At least one man, and probably several,
don’t you think?’
Again the question was directed at Joe. He shrugged. 'It’s feasible.’
The American nodded with satisfaction. 'Since we’re putting names to faces, I’m Mike Travers.’
'Joe Carter.’
Travers smiled. The twinkle in his eye said he knew it was an alias.
'I hear you work for Valentin?’
'That’s right.’
'Been there long?’
A while.’
Always done security work?’
'In a manner of speaking.’
Travers nodded, as if this kind of verbal chess merely confirmed
his theory.
'I passed you on the bridge, didn’t I?’
'That’s right.’
And he came back,’ Angela cut in, aggrieved at what she interpreted
as hostile questioning. 'He didn’t have to, but he came back
to help us.’
Travers looked amused. You’ll pardon me for saying so, Angela,
but it hasn’t helped us a whole lot yet.’
Angela made a huffing noise, but was stilled from further comment
by Terry Fox. In the silence that followed, Joe was left wondering if
anyone else had picked up on the American’s subtle but unmissable
emphasis on the word 'yet’.
Liam’s explanation came out in a rush, bombarding Valentin with
facts in the hope that the cumulative effect would be to wear the
Ukrainian down.
There wasn’t another safe, as such. It was a panic room. An integral
part of the building. The loot was almost certainly inside, but a new
door had been fitted. Biometric security. Oliver Felton had demonstrated
beyond doubt that he could not open it up. The room was impregnable
. . . as Turner would confirm.
At that point Liam’s heart skipped a beat, until Turner nodded. 'We
could maybe blow the whole house apart. Other than that, not a cat
in hell’s chance.’
Valentin’s mouth tightened. His face flushed. Liam thought he was
going to explode, but when he spoke he surprised them all by talking
quietly. They had to strain to hear him.
'First you come to me and tell me the safe is empty.’ He put on a
high-pitched sing-song voice: '“It is all over, Valentin. We are finished.”
But I say: “No. It is a decoy. There is another safe.” So you go away
and what do you find? It is a decoy! There is a panic room. This is
where Felton has put his money. So that is good news, yes? If I had
not told you this, would the panic room have been found? No. And
yet still you come back here and tell me: “Oh, Valentin, it is impossible.
There is no way to get inside.’”
Valentin slowly shook his head, as if marvelling at the chasm between
his wisdom and their incompetence.
'So now I say to you: “Do not keep returning to me for every tiny
decision. Open. This. Fucking. Door.’” He punctuated each of the last
four words by thumping his bound hands on the arm of the sofa.
'Pendry is the explosives man, yes?’ he asked Turner.
Yeah, but he’ll tell you the same — '
'No. Pendry will not tell me the same. Pendry will find a solution.’
Valentin gritted his teeth, virtually snarling as he looked at each of
them in turn. You will not leave this island until we have found a
way to get inside that room. And yes, destroy the entire house if that
is what it takes. But don’t come back to me until you have succeeded.’
Liam sighed. He tried to look both stern and conciliatory, all the
while thinking: I didn’t sign up for this. From the way he was glowering
Turner seemed to share the sentiment.
But Priya did not. She said: 'I have a better idea.’
Valentin’s temper immediately cooled. Aha! Someone who can
bring me answers not problems for a change. Well?’
'We use Oliver Felton as a hostage and summon his father here.
Either he opens the panic room or we dismember his little boy.’
Valentin looked sceptical, which gave Liam a small boost.
'Does Felton care enough about his son?’
'Not ordinarily. But this is an extreme situation. I can’t believe he’d
let Oliver die.’
It was the first that Turner had heard of the idea, and he looked
far from impressed. Yeah, and what if he just calls the cops?’
'Felton’s a professional. An experienced man. He’ll know better
than to act so rashly.’
Both Liam and Turner started to add their objections, but Valentin
cut them short.
'There are hazards, yes. But I do not think we can reject it without
some more thought.’
And what happens while we wait for Felton to arrive?’ Liam said.
'Every minute that we’re here increases the risks. We’re two men down
already, for Christ’s sake. There’s hardly anyone spare to load up the
vans . . .’
'Then some extra time will be of value to us,’ said Valentin. 'No
one will come here during the night. As long as the phones are monitored,
we should be safe until morning.’
He stared at Liam, challenging him to disagree. Liam felt Priya’s
gaze upon him, solemn and steady and gently derisive. After his
botched assault on her, he knew some of his authority had slipped
away. How he reacted now could determine whether he lost it
completely.
All right,’ he said. 'But first let’s find out what brought Joe here.
I’ll get Pendry and Eldon started on the inventory and then we’ll make
a decision, okay?’
Adding insult to injury, Valentin glanced at Priya before he replied.
'Very well. But any more mistakes and the decisions will not be
yours to make.’
Gough wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased or resentful that he’d wound
up guarding the bridge. It was boring as hell, but at least it didn’t
require much effort. Generally that suited him fine.
After abandoning the beach early, he’d feared that he had blown
his chances altogether. He probably would have done if he’d admitted
to playing chicken with the silly old cow on her bike. Wisely he had
said nothing to Liam or Turner.
Still, seeing her take a tumble had been the best part of his day,
no question. It made him smile to think about it now.
After some trial and error he’d found a comfortable spot where the
bridge joined the island. The kerb was raised just high enough to sit
on, and he could rest his back against the railing. The gentle lapping
of the water against the old slipway almost had him convinced he was
on holiday. He’d kill for a cocktail now, he thought. Something big
and fancy, loaded with spirits.
He shut his eyes for a moment, just to help him visualise the drink.
He wanted to get the ingredients right, even if he was only making it
in his imagination. Maybe a daiquiri. No. Havana Beach. A measure
of white rum, two measures of pineapple juice, half a lime and a
teaspoon of sugar…
He didn’t fall asleep. He was quite sure of that. So the noise couldn’t
have woken him.
Unless he had dozed off, just for a second or two, and there hadn’t
been a noise at all. Maybe he’d dreamed that.
He sat up, rubbed his eyes and checked the time. It was ten-thirty.
Was that right?
Gough looked across the bridge. Without getting up he could see
that the road on the mainland was as deserted as ever. It was paler
than the empty, mysterious landscape which surrounded it, and seemed
to be glowing gently in the starlight.
He wondered about the wildlife. There had to be all kinds of things
moving around out there. It was a bloody nature reserve, after all.
Foxes, badgers, rabbits. Those little rodent things from that kids’ book
about the frog. What was that? Wind in the Willows. They must have
willows here, as well, not that he’d know what they looked like . . .
The next noise was definitely real.
It was a voice. Right behind him.
'Too bad,’ it said. The tone was one of mocking disappointment,
which for a second made him think that Turner had caught him
napping. That would have been bad, but not disastrous.
Then Gough felt the blade against his neck, and he knew it was
much, much worse than that.
Forty-One
A few minutes after Pendry took over guard duty, Eldon picked up
the box file and retreated to a corner of the garage. Joe watched as
he sat down on the floor, crossed his legs and rested the file on his
lap. He fidgeted for a moment, then opened it up.
The box was bulging with what appeared to be a mass of old documents.
Eldon lifted the metal clip and tried to separate the first sheet
of paper. The gloves made it difficult, so he stripped them off. Wiped
his hands on his trouser legs and then got to work. He read both sides
of the first document, set it down on the floor and picked up the next
one.
Joe was making a note that the police might be able to lift Eldon’s
fingerprints from the paper when there was a low, despairing groan
from close by.
It was Oliver Felton. Visibly trembling, he seemed unaware of the
noise he was making.
'Oliver?’ said Angela, trying to reach towards him. She glanced at
Terry Fox. 'Is he having a seizure?’
'I don’t think so,’ said Terry. He called Oliver’s name, sharply enough
to catch Pendry’s attention. The guard growled at him to shut up.
Oliver looked at Terry, then shook his head from side to side, as though denying some horrible accusation.
'No no no no no nooooo . . .’
Angela tried again. 'Oliver, what’s wrong?’
But the young man was unresponsive. Joe heard activity behind
him and twisted round. Valentin was being led back in. He looked
furious but unharmed. For the first time it struck Joe that the
Ukrainian’s hands were cuffed from the front, as were Angela’s,
whereas everyone else was bound from behind. He wondered why
that was.
There were three members of the gang with Valentin, all masked
and distinguishable only by their shape and posture. He could see
that the two men were Liam and Turner, and the third was the woman:
Priya.
'What’s his fucking problem?’ Turner said, pointing at Oliver.
'I dunno,’ said Pendry. 'He’s a fruitcake, isn’t he?’
'He’ll get a bullet in the gob if he doesn’t button it.’
As he spoke, Turner kicked Oliver in the back. The young man
fell forward, crying out with pain. He straightened up, tears spilling
down his face, snot bubbling from his nose.
Joe was forced nearer to Angela as Valentin resumed his position
amongst the prisoners. Liam and Priya had moved towards
the far side of the garage, where they were in quiet conversation
with Pendry.
Travers lifted his head, catching Turner’s eye before he moved away.
'Hey, I wanna speak to whoever’s in charge here.’
Turner studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowed. 'Why?’
'I want the boss man, okay? I’ve got something for him.’
Turner made a dismissive noise, and ambled casually in Liam’s
direction as though unwilling to be seen in the role of messenger boy.
Joe looked at Travers. You’re making a mistake.’
The American met his gaze with a blatant lack of shame. 'No
mistake, buddy.’
Terry Fox gasped as he realised what was happening. You’re not
seriously intending to bargain with them?’
'Maybe.’
'That’s pathetic,’ said Angela. 'If they’re the amateurs you claim
they are, it’ll all fall apart soon enough.’
Travers regarded her with contempt. 'It’s the fact they’re amateurs
that scares me. Professionals would have taken what they wanted and
hightailed it out of here by now. These jokers have screwed up – and
that means we’re much more likely to die. That’s why I’m gonna trade
my way out of here.’
'Traitor!’ Angela said with disgust. Anyway, what h
ave you got to
give them?’
Immune to her scorn, Travers grinned. He stared at Joe as he
answered.
'Oh, I got plenty,’ he said. 'Don’t you fret about that’
Liam was explaining the probable layout of the panic room to Pendry
when Turner sauntered up.
'The Yank wants a word.’
'What?’
'Says he has something to tell you.’
Liam nodded irritably. 'Bring him over here.’
He told Pendry to take a look at the panic room, then join Yuri at
Valentin’s place. Pendry climbed into the Transit and started it up,
while Priya pressed the button that opened the garage doors. There
were gasps of relief from the prisoners as fresh air wafted into the
room.
The tall American smiled as Liam approached. He gazed out at
the darkness and murmured: 'Freedom.’
Liam said nothing. He resented the American’s easy manner, acting
like the two of them had just stepped out for a cigarette at a cocktail
party.
You’re Liam, right? The big man in charge?’
Yeah.’
Travers tutted. 'So who’s in charge of you?’ He made a show of
surveying the room. 'Is he here too?’
At that moment Liam was grateful for his mask. He reassured
himself that it wasn’t anything more than a throwaway comment.
If Travers genuinely believed that Valentin was involved, he’d surely
have come right out and said so.
'What do you want?’
'Got a proposal for you. Something you need to know.’
'Go on.’
Travers sucked air between his teeth, in the time-honoured manner
of a negotiator.
A few things to get straight first You see, I don’t much care what
you fellas are up to. Far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to
every last cent on the island. All I want is my car and a route out
of here.’ He chuckled. 'Hell, you can even keep my driver. I won’t
breathe a word about what happened because, like I said, I don’t give
a damn.’
'That part’s clear enough. What I don’t get is why we should let
you go.’
You’re a man of honour, right?’ Travers didn’t wait for a reply. 'Sure
you are. And believe me, you really need to know this. So do we have
a deal, yes or no?’
Liam almost had to laugh. Talk about full of shit.
He glanced over the American’s shoulder and saw Turner give a
shrug. Can’t hurt to listen.
All right. But you’ll have to give it to us first.’
