by Rob Ashman
Mechanic sat back and watched while Harper twisted and jerked, trying to free his hands. His face turned purple as the cord closed off the arteries and veins feeding his brain, sending the blood pressure in his head rocketing. His mouth was open and his tongue stuck out. Harper was being strangled to death.
Mechanic got up from the sofa and started dancing around Harper’s twisting body.
‘You dance, Harper!’ she called out. ‘You shake that ass.’ Mechanic put her hands in the air and gyrated her hips.
‘Woo, you go, boy.’
His eyes bulged out of his skull and his wrists bled where the cuffs cut into his flesh. Popping candy was going off in his head, and he could see flashing lights. The oxygen to his brain ran out and he blacked out. His legs continued to spasm.
Mechanic stopped dancing and tugged the loose end of the knot tied around the coat peg. The rope unfurled from the rafter and Harper crashed to the floor, his body twitching and convulsing. She leaned over, loosened the noose and removed it from his head.
She shook him and a rasping torrent of air rushed into his lungs. He gagged and coughed. Mechanic rolled Harper into the recovery position and went to make coffee on the stove.
48
Lucas was concentrating on staying alive. His only hope of getting out of there was to be rescued and it was no good if when that happened he was a dead man. He had drifted in and out of sleep during the night and had shifted positions as often as he could to prevent cramp setting in. At one point his mind ran amok and he couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep. The blackness engulfed him.
He kept looking up at the hole above his head and watched it turn from black to grey, as the night slipped into dawn. He figured it had to be about 5.30am.
Lucas had another more immediate problem – he needed to pee.
He undid his pants, shuffled them down and removed his penis. He allowed a short burst of urine to escape and caught it in his cupped hand. He brought it to his mouth and drank.
Lucas had once watched a TV programme where a fighter pilot had crashed his plane in the desert and had kept himself alive by drinking his own pee. He recalled that so long as you were well hydrated to start with, the first flow of urine was fine to drink and could buy you extra time before the crippling effects of dehydration took hold. Lucas slurped at the liquid, he needed all the extra time he could get.
It tasted disgusting. Warm and salty with a bitter back taste. Lucas repeated the exercise over and over, each time releasing a small amount of pee and drinking it from his hand. After fifteen minutes he was done. The hole in his coffin had turned bright blue and the cone of light had returned.
Moran was dozing in her car, hidden beneath the treeline. She had spent hours in the night searching for Lucas amongst the woods and rocky outcrops. It was hopeless. The forest was pitch black and it was impossible to see anything. She had persevered, using landmarks to map out a grid in her head. She paced out each one in turn but by 2am she gave up.
She woke, pulled a bottle of water from the bag and ate some cookies. She wanted to be at the lodge early to catch Mechanic when she went out. She reached the cabin at 6.15. Harper was tied up on the decking area, sitting upright. Moran took a chance.
She crossed the open ground at the back of the lodge and approached Harper from behind. He was asleep with his head and shoulders propped against the wooden balustrade. His hands were secured to the belt around his waist and his ankles manacled to the eyebolt in the floor. She shook his shoulder, he jumped a mile.
‘Shhh,’ Moran whispered. ‘It’s me.’
Harper turned to look at her.
‘Fuck, what did she do to you?’ Moran said. The twist of the rope had imprinted deep furrows around his neck. The whites of his eyes were speckled with burst blood vessels and his face bore patches of red and purple spots where capillaries had ruptured under the skin.
Harper shook his head. ‘Never mind, did you find him?’
‘No, I tried but it was too dark.’
Harper slumped down. Moran rummaged in her bag and brought out the water and some chocolate. She held the bottle to his lips, and Harper drank thirstily. She snapped off squares from the bar and pushed them into his mouth. Harper chewed and swallowed fast.
‘You gotta find him,’ he said, his voice unrecognisable.
‘I know, I’ll follow her today. You sure about this? I could shoot her and then we could beat it out of her.’
‘No, that won’t work. She won’t talk. You have to follow her and find him. It’s the only way to get Lucas out alive.’
Moran fed him more chocolate. A noise came from inside the cabin. Moran ducked away and dashed back to cover. Mechanic came out onto the veranda with a cup of coffee in her hand.
‘Beautiful morning for a penance, don’t you think?’
Harper said nothing.
‘Did you sleep okay? You should have, you were half asleep when I dragged you out here last night. Or was that you being unconscious? I can never tell the difference.’
She strolled across to Harper and pulled up a wicker chair.
‘We had some fun, didn’t we? When you get in the groove you can really dance.’
Harper looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact.
‘I’m a great believer in starting the day off right. You know, a little gentle exercise, a healthy breakfast, followed by a hot shower. And I was thinking, the breakfast is shit, I can’t exercise because you’re here, and I don’t have a shower. So what should we do to get the day off to a great start?’
She reached behind her back and drew the hunting knife. She threw it and it stuck in the wooden floor a foot from Harper’s injured hand. She pulled the keys from her pocket.
‘I think removing the top of your ring finger is exactly what we need to get the day off on the right note.’
Moran watched from the safety of the treeline. She saw Mechanic kneel beside Harper. Next thing he was struggling with her. There were raised voices. Mechanic stepped away.
She heard the muffled sound of Mechanic’s voice, and then she heard Harper scream. He rolled on the floor, sobbing, clutching his right arm. Moran’s immediate instinct was to run at Mechanic and put a bullet in her head. But Harper’s words kept her rooted to the spot.
Mechanic went into the house and returned a few seconds later carrying something. Moran couldn’t see what it was. Mechanic let it drop to the deck while she knelt down and released Harper’s ankles. She stood up and Moran saw the noose dangling from her grasp. She forced it over Harper’s head, pulled it tight and hauled him to his feet.
She yanked on the rope and Harper shuffled after her into the lodge.
Ten minutes later Mechanic re-emerged. She stepped off the veranda and walked into the woods. Moran followed keeping well back.
She kept about thirty yards between herself and Mechanic and crept though the trees and bushes. After fifteen minutes Mechanic stopped. Moran took cover in a copse of trees and pulled out her binoculars.
What the hell is she doing? Moran thought.
Mechanic was walking around in a clearing, talking to herself.
‘Did you really believe this was going to work?’ Mechanic said. ‘I had Jameson compile intel reports on you, Harper and Bassano a long time ago. That’s how I was able to relieve Bassano of his cock and balls. He squealed like a stuck pig.’ Mechanic laughed. ‘It was a beautiful sound.’
Lucas lay in his coffin listening to Mechanic rant above him. The metal tube distorted her voice but he could make out every word. She continued.
‘So when you showed up at Jameson’s door he recognised you. I mean, all that shit about insisting on the same shooter or the deal was off, and that nonsense about your client needing to know the details of the hit. Jameson would never have allowed that to happen on a normal contract. We played you along and you sucked it all up. Me and him go back a long way, he is loyal to the core, and with your level of stupidity, you didn’t stand a chance.’
Moran
skirted away to the right to find a better vantage point and crouched down, peering through the glasses. Mechanic was walking around in a circle, talking and gesticulating. Moran was too far away to make out any of the words.
‘The choice of Bonelli was a good one. Who thought of that? Was it you or Harper? I enjoyed that, but it was such an obvious trap. You listening to me?’ Mechanic called down the pipe. Her voice reverberated against the metal, bursting against his ears.
‘Anyway, what else do I have to tell you? Oh yes, you could be out soon. Your man Harper is doing a great job of atoning for his sins. He didn’t look so good this morning and he won’t play the piano again, but he’s hanging in there.’
Lucas’s heart lifted at the prospect of getting out but then sank when he thought of Harper and the terrible things he must be enduring to save him. He had to stay strong. He had to stay alive.
Moran’s eyes were glued to Mechanic watching her every move. For the next fifteen minutes she looked like an evangelical preacher with no congregation. Round and round she circled, talking to herself and throwing her arms in the air.
‘Well, that’s it for now. I’ll be back later. Got to go, I have some meat to hang,’ Mechanic said and trooped back towards the lodge.
Moran watched her disappear. When Mechanic was gone she crabbed forward to where she had been standing. There was nothing there. She scouted around, the place was covered in bushes and tufts of long, dry grass. There were young trees dotted around and the rest of the ground was soil and shale. This had to be the place. But what the hell was she doing?
Moran paced out every inch, combing the area like a crime scene.
Then she saw it.
49
Hidden in a thicket, sticking out of the ground, was a two-foot length of metal tubing. It was painted green and shrouded by twigs and branches while a clump of grass surrounded the base. Moran cleared them away. It was two and half inches in diameter and made of steel. She put her face close to the end and peered inside.
‘Lucas?’ she whispered. The sound of frantic scuffling travelled up the pipe.
‘Moran? Is that you?’
‘Yes, Mechanic has gone.’
‘Get me out of here,’ he cried. ‘Please, please get me out of here.’ She could hear the panic surging in his voice.
‘Okay, keep quiet.’
Moran cleared the vegetation. It came away easily to reveal an oblong patch of freshly dug earth.
She leapt to her feet, scoured the woodland floor and found what she was looking for, a length of wood about three inches thick. She gripped it with both hands, sank to her knees and thrust the end into the dirt. The wooden stake dug into the newly turned soil and she dragged it to the side. She wielded the pick like a canoeist wields a paddle and drove it into the dirt over and over again, digging a trench. Moran shovelled the earth with her hands and piled it up at the sides.
The bark on the wood cut into her hands but she pressed on ignoring the pain. She could hear the sound of Lucas sobbing below. The soil piled up around her and she dug deeper. Then suddenly she hit something hard.
‘That’s me,’ Lucas called out.
Moran removed her shirt and wrapped it around her hands. They were bleeding. She dug into the earth like a crazy woman, pulling at the mounds of earth with her forearms to clear the way. The metal box was about two foot down, and she hit the lid again with a metallic clunk. This galvanised her into more frenzied digging.
She eventually found the edge of the metal coffin and scraped the pole along its length. She brushed the earth away with her hands to find four clasps locking down the lid. She unfastened them and heaved against the weight of the top and the remaining soil. Lucas saw a crack of light opening up down one side. He shoved with all his might with his hands and his knees. The lid hinged upwards.
He could see Moran, red in the face with exertion, straining to lift the lid. Lucas brought his knees up, thrust his feet under it and pushed. Soil and rocks fell into the coffin covering his face and body. The lid flew open, sending Moran toppling backwards.
Lucas shielded his eyes from the brightness, hauled himself out and rolled across the ground.
‘I got to go,’ said Moran putting on her shirt. ‘I’ll come back for you.’ She reached in her bag and pulled out the bottle of water and what remained of the chocolate. She sprinted off in the direction of the lodge.
Mechanic threw open the door to the cabin. Harper almost fell from the chair in shock, the noose tightened around his neck as he shifted position.
‘What a fantastic day for a penance,’ she crowed at the top of her voice.
Harper steadied himself. Blood was dripping from his hand and pooling on the wooden floor. The grubby bandage was now wrapped around two fingers. He was struggling to stand up straight, his back kept going into spasm and the muscles in his legs screamed with cramps. His breathing was shallow as he tried to remain focused.
‘You know, your friend wasn’t very talkative today. I’m not sure he’s doing so good.’ Mechanic walked to the stove and lifted off the coffee pot. She busied herself at the kitchenette filling it with water and ground coffee.
‘But he’s pleased that you have his best interests at heart. You do, don’t you?’
Harper nodded his head.
‘I can’t hear you,’ she barked with her back to him.
‘Yes, I do,’ Harper croaked.
Mechanic walked back placing the pot on the stove and threw herself onto the couch.
‘What shall we do today? I fancy doing some more of that dancing we did last night. You were really good. What do you say?’
‘Go to hell.’ The words hissed from his throat.
‘Don’t you be bad mouthing me, it will only get your friend killed.’
‘Sorry.’
‘That’s better.’ She jumped from the sofa and flitted around tidying the place up. It was a bizarre scene. Mechanic hung her coat up and collected dirty cups, while a man dripped blood on the floor, standing on a chair with a noose around his neck. She washed the cups in the sink. The coffee pot glugged and bubbled on the heat.
Mechanic dried the cups and started singing. It was a tuneless, wordless song which she belted out. She swayed her hips and shoulders and pirouetted around the room.
‘You sing too,’ she said, drifting past him and knocking his leg.
Harper wobbled and the noose gripped tighter.
‘Come on, you sing too, it will raise your spirits.’
Harper began to emit a low groan.
‘That’s better. See, you feel much better now, don’t you?’
Harper nodded and continued to croak out a sound.
‘Now how about we dance a little?’
Mechanic sashayed up to him and gyrated like a stripper. She rolled her hips and dipped her knees with her hands on her head.
‘You want to dance with me, Harper? I bet I turn you on.’ She ground her hips some more and spun around in front of him. ‘You’re not dancing.’
Harper steeled every sinew in his body.
‘I said, you’re not dancing.’ She raised her voice, pulling out the knife.
His body shook with the expectation of what was to come.
‘I said, dance!’ she yelled and kicked away the chair.
Harper dropped like a stone and the rope yanked tight around his neck. His legs jerked and his body twisted in the air.
The bullet shattered the window, slammed into Mechanic’s right shoulder and exited through her upper chest. The force spun her around. The second shell demolished her right knee sending blood and bone gushing into the air.
Mechanic collapsed onto the wooden floor and rolled into the base of the sofa holding her knee.
Moran ran down the side of the lodge and crashed through the front door. Harper was convulsing wildly and his head looked like it was about to burst wide open. Moran reached the coat hooks but couldn’t untie the knot. Harper was choking and gagging as he jerked at the end of the rope.
Moran saw the knife on the floor. She reached down to grab it. Mechanic seized her wrist. Moran toppled over and fell in a heap. Mechanic was snarling and hissing as she held on to Moran.
Moran struggled to break free and swung the Beretta. The butt of the gun cracked hard into Mechanic’s temple. She went limp and released her grip. Moran grasped the knife, leapt up and took an almighty swipe at the rope. The blade severed it in one and Harper slammed onto the floor. Moran scrambled over and yanked the noose from around his neck. His face was completely purple.
She laid Harper on his back and shook him, striking at his chest with her fists and blowing in his mouth. Harper convulsed and took an enormous gulp of air. He coughed and gagged blood onto his chin.
She left Harper where he was and rolled Mechanic onto her front. She ripped the keys from her pocket, crawled back to Harper and snapped open the cuffs. Harper groaned as the metal bracelets came away from his wrists. He lay on the floor wheezing and gasping while Moran unbuckled the belt and removed it from around his waist.
Moran stood up and walked over to Mechanic. She was out cold and there was a widening pool of blood around her shattered knee and another emerging from under her right shoulder. Moran secured the thick leather belt around her middle and snapped the cuffs on her wrists.
Harper was rolling around trying to sit up. Moran put her arms under his and dragged him towards the front door propping him against the wall. He was rubbing his neck with his hands and coughing.
Moran took the rope, went back to Mechanic and tied it around the top of her thigh as a makeshift tourniquet to stem the bleeding. She stripped the cloth from the table, balled it up and stuffed it against the chest wound under Mechanic’s shirt.
Harper was looking around, dazed.
‘What the fuck happened? Did you find Lucas?’
‘I found him.’
