by DC Brockwell
She turned to find Donna Clarkson stood in her robe, her face rosy. Beattie accepted the envelope Donna handed to her. “You’re welcome! How was he?”
“Worth every penny.” Donna was still smiling. “That boy has talents.”
Beattie smiled back. “Like I said.”
“I’d like to book him for next week, if that’s possible? I know you’ve probably told all your customers about him by now, so I don’t expect to have him every week.”
“We’ll always find a space for you, Donna; you’re my number one customer, you know that!”
Donna nodded. “I need to ask a favour though. Can he always be tied?”
“Of course! Let’s set your next appointment right now.”
Beattie opened her calendar to book Donna in, made some small talk, and then said goodbye. Once Donna had left, Beattie turned to the bank of monitors on her desk and looked at monitor two: Danny was busy getting washed by Kimiko, and he looked fine. Better than fine actually – he was smiling, and it looked like he was chatting away with Kimiko.
Beattie walked through to Danny’s room. “I’m impressed,” she said, going over to his bed. “Well done! I think one could say you impressed Donna; she’s booked you in for next week, so if you play your cards right, she could be your first regular client. I have to warn you though, she’s asked that you be chained up every time she visits.”
“Hey,” he said cautiously, “hang on a minute…”
“Relax! It’s just for Donna; you’re well on your way to getting those chains off. I, for one, want to see how impressed our clients will be when you start using your hands and tongue.”
“Don’t you want to see for yourself?”
“Worker bees don’t get to touch the Queen Bee,” she replied, her smile waning. “It’s just the way it is. And anyway, it’s your clients you need to impress; you do that and I’m impressed.”
Danny nodded.
She sighed. Then she smiled again. “Anyway, I wanted to congratulate you on a good job. I’ll let you finish up with Kimiko; you’ve got three more clients to go before we get the champagne out. The next one’s in an hour and a half…”
12
It was four thirty in the afternoon before Nasreen looked up at the clock on the office wall.
The email she’d been waiting for had arrived, and she’d spent the rest of the morning searching the footage for the white transit van. Fortunately, there’d been a set of traffic lights with a camera sat on top up the road from where the suspects had parked. There was a problem: the van had been quite far away from the lights. Nasreen had seen a man dragging a body across the road, but she couldn’t clearly see the suspect.
She’d asked a specialist officer if he could clean up the screen – make it crisper or zoom in – he said it was too far away. The best they’d managed to get was a blurry image of the suspect as he stared up the road towards the traffic lights.
One exciting development, which gave her hope, was identifying the van’s number plate. Terrence had got straight on that, only to find out the van had been torched and left in a field five miles away. As there was a chance that trace evidence – DNA, saliva – might have been left on the van, they’d sent a forensics officer to the impound where the van had been taken. They would have to wait for the results. Terrence had told her not to get her hopes up, again. She was sick of hearing that.
The following day she would drive out to the field where the van was found, take a look around and search the area for any cameras, see if she could get a better picture of the driver and/or the passenger. The only problem was her super putting the brakes on the investigation; she and Terrence were taking over the stabbing cases as of the next day.
An additional email had been sent to her address by Claire Nagel; in it was a short message and an attachment with a client list, broken down by employee and client. The short message was an apology about her husband’s behaviour.
Knowing that she’d have to investigate under the radar (and on her own time), Nasreen had written down the names of Danny’s clients on a piece of paper. She’d then used the Police National Computer, PNC, to obtain their addresses. She’d managed to phone one of Danny’s clients and arrange a meeting for five thirty. She had an hour to get to that address…
“That’s four for four,” said Beattie, carrying two glasses of champagne.
Danny smiled up at his kidnapper as she sat on the edge of his bed, putting her glass on the chest of drawers and holding the other glass to his lips.
“I have to say, you’re working out better than I’d ever dreamed,” Beattie said as she gave him another sip. “You now have four regulars, and all with top ratings.”
It was working; it wouldn’t be long now before she removed these cuffs, he thought. Then he could start planning his next move, his escape. So far, he’d seen what he took to be five guards – they were all big blokes, all Eastern European, he thought, and all wore the same black trousers and white shirts. They looked tough, and Danny could only hope he would somehow be able to find a way out of this shit situation. Yes, he still had hope.
“It’s like I said earlier, Bea, I’m not going to cause you any trouble,” he reiterated, as genuinely as he could. “I just want out of these chains; I want to be able to use a toilet, not the bowl and bottle anymore. I want to start feeling human again.”
“Keep this up and you’ll be out of these in no time,” she said, offering him another sip of champagne.
It grated on his nerves that she was so attractive. He wanted to really hate her, but her smile was so engaging, so disarming, that he found himself wanting to please her.
What the hell was he thinking? This was a dangerous woman; he had to hate her.
The three customers after Donna had been a challenge. It was nothing that he and Kimiko’s prepping couldn’t handle – they were simply something he had to endure to get to the next stage of his plan.
“I’m really proud of you,” Beattie said, offering him the last of the champagne. “This doesn’t happen very often, but I guess you’ve adjusted quicker than I thought you would. Good for you!”
He smiled up at her. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”
Why did she have to be so attractive? It wasn’t fair! he thought, watching her.
A part of him felt disappointed when she rose from the bed and picked up both glasses. “Wait, you’re going?” he asked.
“I’m afraid so,” she replied, walking to the door. “I’ve got a lot to do this evening. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Danny.”
He laid back and thought about escaping. He had made significant inroads with Kimiko that afternoon – he’d made her smile on several occasions and even laugh once. He was getting to know her, getting closer to asking for her help…
Beattie walked from Danny’s room to the second room on C Wing. After placing the two empty champagne flutes on the floor, she pulled the latch across and peered inside. She could see Freddie curled up in a ball in the corner of the room.
The room was a three-by-three, just like the others, except this one had no furniture. The only items in the room were the wrist chains dangling from the ceiling and the ankle chains attached to the floor. Over the years the cold stony room had turned a reddish colour from all the bloodstains created by its former visitors. Beattie remembered one stain coming from the bee who’d tried escaping; her father’s colleague had enjoyed that experience, but the bee had left the room in a terrible state. It had taken three of the support staff an entire day just to mop up the blood, much less actually clean it.
She couldn’t resist opening the door and stepping inside.
Her face expressionless, she looked down at the bloody and bruised bee. He had bruises on his arms, legs, and ribs, and burn marks on his shoulders. He buried his head in his arms, as though protecting himself, and she could hear him crying.
“Won’t be calling me a bitch again, will you?”
“Just kill me,” she heard throu
gh the cries.
Crouching only a foot away, she studied him. Although he was unchained and the door was open, he was no threat to her. “Now where would the fun be in that?” she asked, with no pity or sympathy.
“I’m sorry,” whispered the bee. “I’ll be good. Please let me back…”
“Oh, it’s too late for that.” She looked down at his pathetic trembling body. “No, this is your life now.”
She walked back over to the door, turned, and said, “You brought this on yourself, you know. You won’t see me again. Goodbye, Freddie.”
With a twist of satisfaction, she locked the door and walked past the rooms to the bar where Walter and Borislav were enjoying a pint of lager together. The four other guards were in the support staff house, shackling them in for the night.
As she walked behind the bar and poured herself a Scotch on the rocks, she caught Walter’s attention. “Step up the frequency of your visits to Freddie’s room, would you…”
13
Day 15
Thursday, 25th January
Kimiko helped Danny out of bed. The previous night he’d had his chains removed, and although he’d been weak at first, he enjoyed his first night of freedom to move around.
Kimiko was growing fonder and fonder of Danny by the day. She’d not met anyone like him before; he’d handled his imprisonment so well, it was almost suspicious. His adjustment seemed to delight Mrs Harrison, which was good for everyone since Freddie had died in his cell five days earlier. Freddie’s body had been incinerated the following morning.
Danny was funny and seemed genuinely interested in Kimiko’s story. She’d told him where she came from in Okinawa, and he asked her if she would take him there one day, when they left this wretched place. She’d smiled, telling him she would, knowing it was a lie.
She told him about how she’d met the Harrisons, about their courting her father and how she’d consequently flown over here to earn money for her family. She told him that, for the most part, the Harrisons had lived up to their word; they just hadn’t told her what she would be doing for work, or that she’d be isolated on a farm, miles from civilisation. She whispered the latter part, in case Mrs Harrison was listening in her office.
Mostly though, Kimiko told him of her life growing up in Okinawa, of her parents’ fruit and vegetable stall, and of course her beautiful sister, Fumiko. She tried not to cry when she spoke of her sister, but it was hard. That was all in another life. She knew she’d never be able to leave this place, not having seen what went on here.
She enjoyed spending time with Danny so much that she’d started drawing out her cleaning duties by at least half an hour – not that Mrs Harrison had noticed or cared; she seemed so smitten with Danny’s progress that she didn’t appear to notice Kimiko’s growing fondness for the latest bee.
“Good morning, my star,” said Mrs Harrison as she walked into the room, a big smile on her face. “How are you feeling today? Glad to be out of bed finally, I bet.”
“You’d better believe it.” He stood with her assistance.
“You’ve earned it. You’ve had an excellent few days and because of that you’ve demonstrated to me that you deserve a prize. Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you – within reason, of course. And don’t be asking for a phone.”
“Of course not.” He moved one foot, then the other. “I’d love some clothes. And a clock; I hate not knowing the time.”
“Done. I’ll have Kimiko get you some clothes while you’re showering. Have a think and tell me what else you want. I’ll get whatever you need – TV, DVD player… whatever will make your time here more comfortable.”
“Thanks, I’ll think about it…”
Danny’s feet hurt; the pressure from finally having blood rushing to his feet was immense. It took so much energy to lift his legs, he felt as though he would never walk unaided again. He was glad to have some help, even if it was from Beattie. Trying not to smell her hair, he instead focused on Kimiko, who had been a delight ever since he’d arrived.
He felt so sorry for her; she was as much a prisoner as he was. Over the last ten days he’d tried to find out as much about her as he could, which hadn’t been easy. Kimiko wasn’t a natural talker, although over the last couple of days she had really opened up, telling him all about her life in Okinawa, and her subsequent life here on the farm, if it could be called a “life”.
Fondness was growing, on both sides; he could tell she was growing to like him by how much more she smiled – and laughed. When he’d first arrived, her face had been deadpan, almost miserable; now it was like she was a different person, and it seemed that she carried out her duties in his room slower than she had a few days earlier.
“You know the rules, don’t you?” Beattie asked. “No talking to the other bees, or the guards. You go to the loo, shower, and come straight back here. The guards won’t stand for any talking.”
“It’s okay, I got it.” Danny replied as they approached the doorway.
This was what he’d waited ten days for; he was finally going to get to see outside his room. Phase two of his plan was in play.
With Kimiko holding him on his left, and Beattie on his right, he managed to reach the doorway.
It appeared that he was in the second room in a row of ten, and there were ten more rooms opposite. To his left was another room, then the staircase leading up to freedom, and a plush-looking bar next to it. There were a number of comfortable-looking sofas and armchairs situated in front of the bar.
To his right were eight more rooms, and right at the back of the room was a closed metal door and a smaller room that he took to be an office, which must have been where Beattie kept the monitors. It appeared that there was an offshoot on either side.
He took slow small steps, trying to take in his surroundings. He’d seen the two guards by the bar keeping an eye on him. That was the best place for guards, Danny thought. So far, no signs of weakness that he could see.
As they reached the last room – cell – on his right, he could see that the room had an extension on both sides. He tried to picture it in his head and realised that the room was T-shaped. “What’s down there?” he asked, looking down the corridor and seeing five doors.
“That C wing,” replied Kimiko. “You not want go inside; it very dirty.”
“That’s right,” said Beattie. “You don’t want to get put in C Wing. Carry on doing what you’re doing, and you won’t have to, eh?”
Danny suddenly felt a heavy feeling of dread. What were they, torture chambers? He didn’t want to find out.
As they approached the toilets and showers, he asked, “And that? What’s over there?”
“My, you really are curious, aren’t you!” exclaimed Beattie.
“The furnace room,” added Kimiko. “In winter, very good have.”
By now he had a complete picture in his head of the layout, and he thought he could work with it. He wondered if the guards always stood by the bar… he guessed they would. The stairs were the only means of escape, so he would need to get the guards away from the bar area if he was to make his getaway.
“There’s a free shower over there,” suggested Beattie.
He took his time getting there, still observing. There were five showers and five toilets, and finally, he arrived at the fourth, having passed one woman sitting on the toilet, her head down, naked.
He sat down on the toilet and sighed. “Are they gonna watch me while I take a shit?” he asked, indicating the four guards who stood with their backs against the wall.
“They’re guards, Danny, it’s what they do,” replied Beattie.
“But does he have to stare like that? I’m doing pretty personal things here.”
He watched as Beattie turned to the guard. She made some gesture, though he couldn’t see what, and the guard put his head down.
“There, happy?”
“Happy.”
“You’ll be okay getting yourself in the shower, won’t y
ou.” It sounded more like a statement than question. “Kimiko’s going to get some clothes for you. I’ll see you later. Enjoy your shower, my star.”
Danny watched as Kimiko and Beattie walked back in the direction of the bar, then, as he sat on the toilet, he thought how he could use this new knowledge to his advantage. He had to manufacture a way of getting the guards down this side of the room, giving him the chance to leg it up the stairs and out of this place. Once he could actually leg it, of course.
He wasn’t free yet, but hope filled his heart; he would get out of here, somehow…
Beattie had calmed down considerably since Freddie’s death. While she’d hoped that his suffering would last longer than a few days, she also understood that everyone had their breaking point, and Freddie’s weak mental state had had a knock-on effect on his body, causing it to shut down. Her in-house physician had said as much when he’d been called to assist. The look of distaste on the doctor’s face had not gone unnoticed, but she didn’t care; Freddie had deserved his punishment.
While she’d lost one bee, she’d found a far more superior bee in Danny. She was still suspicious of his speedy adjustment – he seemed too eager to please, in her opinion – but she was playing along with him in any case. After all, he was earning her more money than the other bees, Beattie having increased his hourly fee by two hundred pounds an hour; to seven hundred, which her clients were more than willing to pay.
She’d had an eventful and busy few days with work, and on top of that she’d had a charity fundraiser to organise through the country club she was a member of; God only knew how she’d managed to get roped into that. Her father had always recommended getting involved in charitable causes; it made them seem more like regular people, and her family were far from regular folk.
In addition to that, she had a hen party to attend for a friend at the club, though she used the term “friend” loosely – she was a fellow member and not exactly someone she would invite round for afternoon tea.
