by Neil White
They had her.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Charlie hung his head and sucked in gulps of air.
The group had pulled Donia all the way back inside, so the last Charlie had seen of her was her legs kicking out. There had been too many of them, and so it was always a fight she was going to lose. He could still hear her though, fighting against them, screaming.
A man appeared in the door. It was the small man with dark hair and piercingly bright eyes he had seen in Oulton, in a scruffy denim shirt. Charlie knew him now as Henry.
‘So you didn’t bring it?’ Henry said, and Charlie detected some amusement in his voice, as if this was all part of the game.
‘Let her go,’ Charlie snarled at him.
Henry shook his head. ‘That’s not going to happen, you know that.’
‘If you touch her, I’ll kill you.’
‘Did you think you could outsmart me?’ Henry said. ‘You know I want the original tape, but you haven’t brought it, so you’re just surplus now, a threat to our group.’ He tutted. ‘That isn’t a good thing to be, a threat, because you know how we deal with that,’ and Henry glanced towards the stones.
Charlie followed the gaze. He took in the naked woman first, dumped into a hole in the ground, her skin pale under the moonlight, spoiled by dark streaks that he knew were blood. Then he saw Ted, face down, rolled into a more shallow grave, soil and grass sods piled up next to him.
He was transfixed for a moment, his mind working a few seconds behind his eyes, terrified by the knowledge that the same people who were now holding Donia had killed them both.
Some women appeared behind Henry, watching Charlie, smiling, enjoying the moment.
Henry spoke again.
‘And something else has occurred to me,’ he said. ‘You’ve come a long way to rescue your office girl, but we know that she’s more than just an office girl, because she told us everything on the way up in the van. People do that when they are frightened. So I wonder how she is feeling right now? So off you go, Charlie Barker, I don’t mind. Run as fast as you can, I won’t chase you. I’ll be too busy enjoying myself in there with your beautiful young assistant. She’s very pretty. It’s such a shame.’ Henry began to laugh, although his eyes remained mean, his brow creased. Then he turned to one of the women behind him. ‘Get me a mask.’
Henry didn’t take his gaze from Charlie as a plain white mask was given to him. He just smiled and let the mask dangle from his finger.
Charlie wanted to rush him, to wrap his hands around his throat. He faltered, knowing that going in there wouldn’t guarantee Donia’s safety. It might even condemn her. Both of them. But Charlie knew that he couldn’t leave her, and so he walked towards the house. He held on to some vain hope that he might be able to grab Donia and make another run for it, but when he went into the hallway, Donia was at the other end, each arm splayed out, people holding on to her, the man in the vest holding a knife to her throat.
Adrenaline made his hands shake and his stomach turned cartwheels. There was a push to his back and he stumbled towards Donia, whose eyes had filled with tears.
They were outside the old man’s doorway and he heard a moan, but Charlie ignored it.
‘So what now?’ Charlie said.
‘What do you think, Arni?’ Henry said.
The man in the vest grinned. ‘A bit of fun,’ he said, squeezing Donia’s breast. She squirmed away, but Arni seemed to like that, his grin turning into a laugh.
Henry sidled up behind Charlie and whispered into his ear. ‘What do you think, Daddy?’ His breath was fetid. Poor diet and bad hygiene. ‘Are you going to let Arni enjoy himself with little Donia first, just to buy you some time, or shall we end it now?’
Henry threw the mask at Arni, who caught it with one hand and pressed it against Donia’s face. Her features were gone, rendered expressionless, a shop dummy, except for the whites of her eyes staring through the mask. Arni took the knife from her neck and pressed it against Donia’s forehead, the blade pushing in the skin, ready to make a perfect line along the top of the mask.
Charlie closed his eyes as the image of Amelia came back to him, her face gone. He knew now how it had happened. He couldn’t let it happen again.
Arni started to run the knife across her skin. A red line appeared as small flecks that jumped onto the white of the mask. Donia thrashed against her captors and screamed, but it was no good.
Charlie started towards them, unsure what he intended to do but knowing he had to stop it. Then there was another moan from the old man, louder this time. Charlie looked, just for a second, instinctively. When he saw what the old man was doing, he turned his gaze back to Donia, and saw Arni’s grin filled with spite.
Charlie had seen what the old man was doing. He tried to work out how it would end up, his mind working quickly, driven by panic. It could go really badly, but his chances were running out. Anything unusual was the only chance he had.
The old man had somehow moved himself to the edge of the bed nearest the window, where the petrol bombs were stored. His arm was hanging out of the bed, so that it almost trailed on the floor, limp and useless. Except that it wasn’t wholly useless. There was a cigarette lighter in his hand, and his thumb was flicking weakly at the wheel. Charlie’s eyes had caught a spark, a yellow flash, and it was right underneath one of the petrol-soaked cloths hanging from one of the bottles.
‘Stop now,’ Charlie said, stepping in front of Arni, keeping the focus on him. He had to stop the group looking into the bedroom. ‘If you think that Henry is your hero, then you’ve been smoking too much of what I’ve seen in your ashtrays.’ He raised his voice so that everyone knew that he was addressing the whole group.
‘Don’t think we will make it quicker if you annoy us, to make the pain shorter,’ Henry said.
‘It?’ Charlie said, and then looked at the rest of the group. ‘You mean torture, murder? Congratulations everyone, I hope you enjoy your brave new world, if this is what you want. I prefer the one we’ve got now.’
At the periphery of his vision, he could see the old man’s thumb flicking at the cigarette lighter again, with just the occasional spark as the result. Charlie willed him on, as the red line grew longer along Donia’s forehead.
‘You won’t have your world for much longer,’ Henry whispered in Charlie’s ear. ‘Come with us, Mr Barker. You might enjoy it.’
Charlie didn’t answer, because he knew that if Henry enjoyed their capture, he would prolong it.
Then the old man produced a flame.
His hand shook with the lighter as he held it under the cloth for a few seconds. The flames seemed to just dance around the rag at first, and the old man let out a long moan. Charlie didn’t know if it was from exertion or satisfaction. Then the flame seemed to almost jump from the lighter to the cloth.
Fire shot upwards, streaking towards the neck of the bottle. The sudden brightness made everyone turn towards the room. Someone gasped. The glass bottle exploded, shooting fuel and flames onto the floor.
There was a scream. The fire spread through the room, the petrol on the floor making a churning sea of flames, setting light to the other petrol-soaked rags and then rippling towards the peeling wallpaper, like fingers edging their way forward.
The curtains were soon alight, disintegrating quickly, sending burning embers towards the bed. The view was becoming obscured by smoke, but as Charlie looked, he thought he saw the old man smiling.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Sheldon sat in the back of the marked police car, commandeered from two uniformed officers who were now walking the streets rather than staying warm in their car. Lowther was driving. The blue lights bounced from the windows of the town centre, transforming the quiet streets into a stroboscope. As the shops faded, there were curtain twitches from the houses they passed.
Soon they were into open countryside, and the headlights became a beacon across the open fields.
‘So tell me about this group,
’ Tracey said, turning round from the front.
Sheldon leaned forward so that he was perched between the seats. ‘Do you remember how Billy Privett’s friends said they didn’t get invited to the parties anymore?’
Tracey nodded.
‘Billy got involved with this group. Or rather, the group got involved with him. They wanted his money. They were involved in Alice’s death, and it seemed that Billy thought they were going after him, so he recorded a video, like a confession, and they found out. So they killed him. It’s as simple as that, except they didn’t know that the video was only to be made public if Billy died.’
‘What about Amelia?’
‘She made the video. Henry Mason was just getting rid of the witnesses.’
‘But why cut the faces off?’
Sheldon sighed. ‘Like most sick killers, Henry just likes the attention.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Can you think of a different reason? This group are attention seekers. You’ve seen them on the riot footage, those in white shop-dummy masks.’
Tracey shook her head. ‘I’ve seen them, but I didn’t think they were capable of that.’ Then she raised her eyebrows, shock on her face.
‘What is it?’
‘The masks,’ she said. ‘Remember how neatly the faces were cut away?’
‘A template,’ Sheldon said.
‘That’s what I was thinking, that they put a mask on Billy and Amelia and then cut around it.’
‘That will help in proving they did it though.’
‘DNA?’ Tracey said.
‘That’s right,’ Sheldon said. ‘If we can find Billy or Amelia’s DNA on a mask, we can prove their involvement.’
‘But we won’t know which of them took part.’
‘Arrest all of them. Separate them. One of them will give in and talk, because as much fun as it might be to be free in the hills, the thought of prison loosens tongues.’
Lowther pressed a little harder on the accelerator as they turned towards Jackson Heights. There were more cars coming behind them.
‘Let’s just hope we get there in time,’ Lowther said. ‘And I know something else too.’ He looked at Sheldon in the rear view mirror. ‘If what they did to Billy and Amelia is a sign, they are not going to come willingly.’
That made Sheldon sit back in his seat, because the hills were going to be dark, and they might be outnumbered. But he knew one thing; they were going to stop them, whatever it cost.
The group rushed towards the old man’s room, but they all pulled away as the flames crackled through the room, the heat becoming more intense. Those holding on to Donia had let go of her. Arni had dropped the mask and was holding on to the chain around her wrist, his knuckles white as she struggled against him, blood streaming down her face. Arni stared at the doorway, the orange flickers reflected in his eyes, smoke belching out of the top of the frame.
‘Get some water,’ someone shouted.
Charlie looked into the room one last time, saw the figure of the old man, sitting up in bed, blackened by the flames.
He stepped back. The heat made his cheeks smart. Henry was no longer behind him. Charlie leaned away and started to cough. His eyes hurt from the smoke and the heat had become painful. Everything about him felt like it was searing. His skin, his face, his clothes.
People ran past, buffeting Charlie, holding cups of water. It was futile, like scattering ashes into a gale. He darted forward and grabbed Donia’s hand, tried to pull her towards him. It seemed to jolt Arni out of his trance, because he pushed Charlie and yanked Donia back into the room. She tried to twist out of Arni’s grip, but he was too strong. Arni was distracted though, his eyes darting from the flames to Charlie.
Someone shouted, ‘Henry!’ A young woman, a hysterical voice, and then there was a rush of air, fanning the flames onto the peeling wallpaper outside the bedroom. Charlie whirled around. Henry wasn’t there anymore. There was no one there. And the front door was closed.
Charlie ran to it, just for an escape route, Donia screaming behind him, but when he pulled at the door, it was locked. He kicked at it, and then banged on it with his fists. ‘Henry, Henry. What are you doing?’
No reply. It was getting harder to hear anything though. The flames were roaring now, and there were shouts and screams from everyone inside, with the occasional pop of a bottle from inside the room.
Charlie turned back to Donia. He had to shield his face, the heat was too strong. Arni’s spare arm was over his head, curled over, coughing. Donia was hitting him, trying to get him to let go, pulling on the chain. She was coughing too, and so when the chain slipped out of Arni’s hand, she fell to her knees, spluttering.
Arni crawled across the floor, eyes streaming, heading for the kitchen. Charlie guessed he was looking for a bucket, or maybe even a way out. The stream of people vainly throwing water at the flames had gone now, and they were backed into the corner of the living room.
The flames were peeling off the wallpaper in the hall, so that the fire ripped up the walls and spread across the ceiling, making an arch of flame. Donia was shrinking back, scared. The heat over Charlie’s head was intense, beating him back towards the door.
There was some movement near the living room window, the sound of smashing glass as someone tried to make an exit through a window, but the inward rush of air seemed to make the flames burn faster, long licks of orange and black, the crackle of destruction.
‘He’s left you,’ Charlie cried. ‘Save yourself. Forget him. Find a way out.’
The group was a huddle now, coughing, apart from one person trying to squeeze through the barbed wire, heading for the broken window, but stopped by the grille outside.
‘Donia!’ Charlie shouted. ‘Come to me. Quickly.’
He had no plan, but he knew he had to get her away from the group, because they weren’t helping themselves.
She started to crawl forwards, but then Arni’s hand reached and grabbed her hair, pulling her so that she was at his feet.
Charlie knew he was going to have to get her.
Chapter Sixty-Four
There were just seconds left, Charlie knew that. It was time to gamble. If he got it wrong, he would die, along with Donia. Except that there was a good chance they would all die anyway.
The door to the front of the cottage was locked so there was only one way out, and that was up. Everyone was retreating into the living room, huddling closer together away from the window.
Charlie ran for the cluster of petrol bombs still lined up below the living room window. Arni went to grab him, but he was too busy holding on to Donia.
Charlie retreated back to the doorway, so that the flames were roaring just behind him. He had a bottle in his hand. It was hot and his skin felt like it was about to blister away from his cheekbones.
‘Let her go,’ Charlie shouted. ‘Let her come to me, or else I light this and throw it at you all.’
Arni shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘It’s over. Just let her go. Concentrate on yourself.’
‘We’re finished. She dies with us.’
Donia coughed and struggled, as she looked at Charlie, her eyes streaming. He nodded at her, tried to give her a cue with his eyes, that she had to be ready, but she wasn’t focusing on him.
It was a simple plan, but if it didn’t work, they would all die. It was a distraction, nothing more. It would make it more dangerous, spread the fire, but it might just give him that vital second to grab her.
‘Donia!’
She looked up, and then gave him a small nod back. Do it.
Charlie closed his eyes for a second, but he knew there was no option.
He raised the bottle to the flames. The cloth caught fire, the flame running quickly along the material, towards the fuel. He didn’t look at the people in the other room, didn’t want to think of what he was about to do to them.
He threw the missile towards the bottles under the window, like a bowling ba
ll at the tenpins. There was a smash, a clatter, and glass and fuel scattered over the floor and the walls. It was like slow motion, as the spread of blue fire grew over the floor, like a blanket thrown over the room. There was a scream, some shouts, quick movement, and then the entire room went up in a whoosh of flame.
John was thrown back against the wall, the group pushing against him, cowering from the flames. Someone went for the back door, but it was locked. It was always locked, because it would give someone a way in through a dark courtyard. The frantic rattle of the door and the shouts mixed in with the crackles of the fire. There was a scream. He couldn’t tell if it was fear or pain. The heat was too hot on him.
Donia was struggling and thrashing around in Arni’s grip, arms flailing, trying to pull away from the flames that arched over the doorway. He could get to the window, but he himself had fastened metal grilles to it and covered it in barbed wire. There was still a route through, up the stairs, but he couldn’t push the group. They were pinning him back.
He reached for Gemma, so that he could feel the comfort of her hand, but she shrugged him off. She was trying to get past the flames, but the heat was too intense.
‘Gemma!’ he shouted. ‘Go on, run. Save yourself.’
Hearing John’s shout, Arni went to grab her, but she pulled away, trying to get nearer to the doorway. The heat beat her back each time.
He started to push, to force his way through, but then there was movement ahead.
There were shouts, a scream, and then there was a flash, more flames. The group pressed against him. Someone was sobbing. Jennifer, he thought.
He put his head back and watched as the flames licked the ceiling. He was going to die, he knew that now. He reached for Gemma again, but he couldn’t find her.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Charlie turned away as the flames rushed towards him. He felt them scorch across his skin and his nose filled with the smell of burning hair, but the fireball retreated, instead turning into flames that started to eat up the wallpaper, the chairs, the cushions. He couldn’t see Donia, and he thought then that he had misjudged it, but then there was movement of someone running towards him. It was Donia, screaming, her hands over her head, and someone else just behind her, running, pushing Donia forward.
