by Jack Probyn
Warm tears filled Luke’s eyes and streamed down his face as he lay there on his back. He reached his hand out for Candice to take it. She did. Hers was moist and covered in blood, but he didn’t care. So long as he got to hold her and be with her in his last few—
The ticking began. At first it was a few beeps: steady, rhythmic. But then within seconds it intensified.
Beep-beep-beep.
Beepbeep-beepbeep.
Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep.
Luke knew instantly what the noise meant. And so did Candice. But by that point it was too late.
The device detonated. All ten blades plunged themselves into Candice’s neck, rupturing and severing her arteries and muscles, breaking her spine and airway, and piercing the brain stem. Small jets of blood erupted from the incisions in her throat and rained down on Luke. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed to the ground. She was dead before her head hit the grass.
Just like that, she was gone. It had been over so quickly, so instantly.
Gasping, clinging on to what little life he had left, Luke rolled onto his side so they were facing one another. Candice’s eyes were open, distant, yet, to Luke, it seemed like she was still there, like she was staring at him, ready to read him a story as she nurtured him into his permanent sleep. Luke reached out and stroked her face.
As he watched the colour run from her cheeks and the blood trickle across her throat, anger swelled within him. All his life he’d tried to remember who his mother was. What she’d looked like. How she’d behaved. What she’d done to provide for them. What she’d done with her life. In the few months that he’d been reunited with her, they’d tried to stitch together their relationship, set the foundations in place and build from there. But Luke was never going to get a chance to finish it. And now his final memory of her was tarnished with this image. Dead at the hands of the device. Covered in her own blood.
And it was all one person’s fault. Danny.
His eldest brother. The one who’d helped raise him had put him in this situation. How could he?
Luke tore his weakening mind from thoughts of Danny and filled it with the memories that he and Candice had tried to build, and the few he had left of her from before she’d disappeared. As he lay there on the grass, staring into her eyes, a smile grew on his face.
Before the world went black, and before the pain stopped, he was just happy that he’d been fortunate enough to see her come back into his life.
CHAPTER 59
TOILET BREAK
‘Hey…’ Danny whispered over the sound of pop music coming from the speakers around them. ‘Can I go to the toilet?’
‘Go,’ Louise snapped at him, waving him away with a dismissive hand. ‘Just don’t be too long.’
‘I won’t, my love.’ Danny stroked her arm; she flinched slightly, pulling away from him. ‘Are you going to be all right?’
She glared at him, her gaze more piercing than knives. ‘Do I look like a fucking child?’ She reached her hand around his body, parked it under his armpit and pinched. Hard. Danny wanted to cry out, but he knew that was a bad idea. For his own sake, it was better to remain quiet and suck it up. The people around them didn’t need another reason to look their way.
‘I’ll ask again: do I look like a fucking child? No. I didn’t think so. So why do you insist on treating me like one?’
Danny opened his mouth to apologise but was interrupted by another harder pinch, this time a little higher, grabbing a clutch of hairs. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the pain. There was that fire in her eyes again. The one that always told him she was angry and that she needed to vent her frustrations on him. Sometimes it was a pinch. Sometimes it was a friction burn. Sometimes it was a whipping with his belt. Sometimes it was a punch. But it was always in the places nobody could see, the marks and bruises his little secret, just like the way she treated him.
‘Go to the toilet,’ she said. ‘You’re a big boy.’ And then she applied more pressure and twisted as a final fuck you. His skin throbbed and he felt the onset of a bruise underneath.
She released her finger and a flood of pain narrowed in under his arm. It felt uncomfortable to move, and as he lifted his hand to soothe it, swapping the gym bag to his other hand, she grabbed him.
‘No. You can leave that with me,’ she snarled, snatching the bag from him.
Danny did as he was told and hurried towards the bathroom, giving one last look at the bags of money and jewellery beside Louise as he entered. Inside, he rushed to the cubicle, slammed the door and locked it shut before leaning back against the door and letting out a heavy sigh. He was safe. Out of reach. She wouldn’t dare venture into the men’s toilets, that was for sure. But he knew that, if she had, she’d mean well. After all, she was only looking out for his best interests, just like she always did. He had, in a way, deserved his punishment. He’d just insulted her dominance. He shouldn’t have likened her to a child. It was wrong, and he’d paid the price for it.
Danny untied his belt buckle, loosened the buttons in his jeans and let his penis dangle in front of him. The cold air chilled him. The rash had been causing him issues all afternoon, but he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Five hours of torture and sitting uncomfortably in the car, wishing he could scratch until the blood came. But he wasn’t allowed to touch it – Louise’s orders. The rash that she’d given him was his fault. It was his fault he’d forced her to cheat on him and contract the virus. It was always his fault, and he agreed. He was a bad boyfriend. He did wrong things. He hurt her emotionally. He sometimes wounded her physically by accident. But he never meant any of it. None. And now he was on the final few days of treatment, and as soon as it was over, he could have sex with her again. It had been so long since he’d last touched her, held her, felt her, been inside her.
He started pissing, the lower half of his body tingling as the pressure on his bladder eased. Streams of urine splashed on the seat and ricocheted onto the floor and his legs. After finishing, he pulled his pants over himself and buttoned his jeans, ignoring the wet patch that pressed against his leg, then unlocked the cubicle door and washed his hands, splashing soapy water across his face.
He peered up at himself and resented what he saw. Placing his hands in the sink, he hung his head low and exhaled deeply. He was exhausted – physically and mentally. Drained. But that was all about to change now. Everything. The Canary Islands with Louise. Where they could begin their new lives together. Where everything would stop. Where she’d promised the tormenting and the pain would continue no more.
A loud bang sounded in the end cubicle. Danny froze, his skin crawling. His pulse rose and his chest heaved. What the fuck was that? It had sounded exactly like the noise he’d heard a few minutes ago – the noise that had come from outside the ship.
Dismissing it as an example of his overactive imagination, he returned his attention to the mirror and then looked at his watch. He’d been in there for a few minutes. Shit. Far too long for a piss. She would be timing him, he knew, and the beating would be even worse if he delayed any longer. Panicked, he wiped his hands on his shirt and trousers and rushed out of the bathroom.
The door flew open, and as he exited, he bashed into another man trying to enter. The man was twice his size and twice as wide, the same size as Michael. Danny apologised and pressed his back against the wall to allow the man to pass. He didn’t want to admit it, but the blow had winded him slightly, and he gasped for breath.
But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in the waiting room.
Louise – the love of his life, despite everything she’d put him through – was gone. And so were his bags of money and jewels.
CHAPTER 60
ALONE
As soon as Candice’s head hit the ground, Jake turned his back on the scene, rushed behind the wheel arch of the nearest car and vomited, the liquid splashing onto his feet and legs while the acid stung his throat, chest, mouth and nose. He wiped
his lips with the back of his hand and then rubbed the mess on his trouser leg. The bitter taste lingered in his mouth and made him grimace. Spitting the remnants of the aftertaste onto the grass, he turned to face the piece of activist art that was now Luke and Candice’s bodies strewn together.
A team of paramedics surrounded them and began checking for a pulse on Luke’s neck. Everyone in the area knew their efforts were wasted, but Jake held a little hope. Luke was a human being, just like the rest of them, regardless of who he was and what he’d done. Nobody deserved to suffer a fate like that.
He allowed himself a moment to process what had happened, so that he had a starting point for when he completed it later that evening. He focused on the collar, the keys, and the order in which they’d been inserted. One. Two. Four. Wrong order. It should have been one and two. Then three and four. And with the third missing — possibly still in Pemberton’s pocket somewhere — there was no chance Candice was going to survive. In the heat of the moment, in one final act of desperation, she’d slotted the fourth key into her neck and killed herself without even realising what she was doing.
Jake tore his eyes from the massacre and forced himself to focus on something else: being smart. There was still a job to do – a final Cipriano brother to catch – and there was little time to do it.
An idea formed in his head.
He strode towards Grahams, Bridger in tow.
‘I think it’s time for me to get on board that boat,’ he said.
For a moment, Grahams’ face contorted as he considered what to do. Jake could see from the man’s expression that he didn’t want to be bossed about by someone who had nowhere near as much as experience as he did but also knew that Jake was on the right path. The threat to public life was imminent so long as Danny was still on board the boat. With Jake on there as well he could help minimise the risk.
Eventually, Grahams nodded, raised his hand, and within a few seconds, two armed officers were by his side. He ordered them to strip down to their plainclothes, exchange their SIGs for Glock 17s, and then accompany Jake and Bridger onto the ship.
‘You need to put these on,’ one of the AFOs said, holding up a body vest.
Jake beamed at the sight of it, more so at the fact that he’d never worn one like this before, rather than the inherent possibility that came with wearing one: he might get shot. It was his first day and there was a first time for everything. Stifling the smile away, he donned the vest and readied himself.
With Bridger and the armed officers behind him, he marched towards the paramedics and reached into his pocket. As he approached them, he removed his phone and opened the camera. He bent down closer to the bodies and began to take photographs of their remains, averting his gaze from the images on his screen as he took them.
Five photos later, he was finished.
‘What are you doing?’ Bridger asked, rushing over to his side. ‘Have some respect…’
‘I didn’t want to have to do it.’
‘It’s all in the line of duty, eh?’
Jake ignored Bridger’s remark, turned on the spot and started towards the boat, ducking beneath the overhanging branches of a nearby tree and breaching onto the road that led to the cruise liner.
The ramp to the cruise deck was steeper than Jake expected, and he found his legs aching and his lungs out of air after a few steps. After the four of them reached the top, they were stopped by one of the stewards working on board the cruise ship. The woman in front of them asked to see their tickets. Instead, they flashed their warrant cards.
Jake pulled out his phone and displayed the old mugshot of Danny Cipriano’s face that had been sent to him by Danika. ‘If you see anyone who looks like this, alert us. This man is incredibly dangerous. No one else is allowed on, and no one is allowed off. Do you understand?’
A look of fear struck the woman as she nodded, taking Jake’s phone and committing the mugshot to memory. They thanked her and crossed the threshold into the boat, while the steward locked the gate behind them, disabling access for anyone else.
The interior of the foyer was lavish, replete with opulence and extravagance, and it was everything Jake had expected from a mega multimillion-pound cruise line. But there was no time to admire it. Perhaps after all of this was done, Jake mused, he and Elizabeth might have to add another addition to the list of games they played when bored: Cruise Roulette. Hopefully with this one I’ll win big.
Coming to a stop in the middle of the entrance, Jake turned to his partner and touched his hip, searching for his radio.
‘We’re going to have to do this on mobile,’ he said after realising that it was still attached to a dead man’s jeans.
‘Fine by me,’ Bridger said, brandishing his phone.
‘What about you guys?’ Jake asked, turning to face the AFOs with him. ‘And the rest of the plainclothes officers we’ve got on board?’
‘I can communicate with them on my radio,’ Bridger replied.
Jake nodded. ‘If you hear anything, let me know.’
‘Aye aye, Captain.’
Jake pointed to his left. ‘Split up. You go that way. I’ll go this. Don’t get scared on me now, Sarge.’
Bridger’s lips rose. ‘That’s what makes it so much more exciting.’
Then they disappeared in opposite directions.
Jake headed down a brightly lit corridor. Fluorescent light bulbs hung overhead, blinding him. He hated boats. Had never been good on them. The sense of claustrophobia, like the walls were perpetually closing in around him, an inch at a time. The constant swaying from side to side, the unending motion that sent his mind into a whirlpool of nausea and dizziness and made him want to vomit over the deck or in the toilet – whichever he could find sooner.
Steadying himself with his hands on the wall, Jake ventured down the corridor and, at the end, arrived at an even larger foyer than the one he’d seen when he entered. A large, delicate, ornate chandelier, almost as large as Jake’s bedroom, dangled from the ceiling. It trumped Candice’s chandelier tenfold.
Cruise chandelier one, Candice chandelier nil.
At the reception desk a member of staff was attending to other clientele, apologising for the delay, promising that they were doing everything they could to get the boat moving as soon as possible. Jake rushed over and barged in front of the next in line, flashing his ID, immediately suppressing any protests before they came his way.
‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘Sorry, but have you seen anyone that looks like this?’ Jake showed the man behind the computer the old image of Danny. ‘Looks a bit like this, just a bit older.’
The man leant forward, squinted and then eased back to his natural position, shaking his head.
‘If you see anything, call me on this number.’ Jake grabbed a pen and paper from atop the desk and scribbled his contact information on it. Sliding the paper back, Jake thanked the man.
As he stepped away from the reception desk, his phone rang. It was Danika.
‘Jake,’ she said abruptly. ‘I’ve done some digging and found out the name of Danny Cipriano’s potential girlfriend. Louise Etherington. I’ve sent you an image of her. It’s a mugshot taken from a previous arrest.’
‘What for?’
‘GBH. She almost beat another woman to death in a night club. And she’s had a string of related incidences after that but never been convicted of anything. A previous boyfriend accused her of domestic violence, but he later rescinded his statement,’ Danika explained.
Jake absorbed the information. In the space of twenty minutes, she’d managed to dig herself out of a hole she didn’t even know she was in. And he was glad that she had; he couldn’t comprehend the possibility of her being corrupt. Not only would it tarnish his friendship with her, but it would also tarnish his ability to trust anyone in the force, no matter how close or distant his relationship with them.
‘You’re a hero,’ he told her. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘Be careful,’ Danika replied
before she hung up.
Jake pieced together the information. Now some of it was beginning to make sense. Perhaps Danny wasn’t the mastermind behind this at all. Perhaps it was Louise. Perhaps she was the master manipulator who’d forced Danny into betraying his family and running away with her. Perhaps she was the one controlling everything from behind the scenes, making sure she was kept hidden, unseen until the final moment of glory.
As Jake lowered his phone from his ear, he opened the email attachment Danika had just sent him and showed the phone to the receptionist again. This time he didn’t apologise for his intrusiveness.
‘This woman. What about her? You seen her?’
The man’s pupils dilated. ‘Yeah. At least I think it’s her.’
The hooped earrings, nose piercing and dodgy fake tan were large giveaways, Jake thought, and from the rest of the clientele surrounding him, she didn’t look like she would be fitting in to any country club meetings or University of the Third Age croquet lessons any time soon.
‘When?’
The man’s gaze flicked to the digital clock on his computer screen. He contemplated for what felt like an eternity before replying. ‘About five minutes ago. Maybe more.’
‘Which way did she go?’
The receptionist pointed to Jake’s left, in the direction of a spiral staircase just to the side of the chandelier.
Jake strode towards the steps, forgetting to thank the staff member, and began to climb. He came to a stop at the top. In front of him was another corridor; it looked almost identical to the first one. Groundhog Day on steroids. Fire Exit signs hung overhead beside directions to different parts of the boat. It was then that he realised how enormous and complex the maze of underground corridors was, and how tiny he was in comparison.
Up ahead, a cleaner pushing a trolley descended on the other side of the corridor. Jake snapped himself out of his thoughts and passed her. As he reached the end, he dialled Bridger’s number.
