by Hannah Howe
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I was in the cellar of Mansetree House, bound to a chair. My hands were tied behind my back and my torso was strapped to the chair, while my ankles were secured to its legs. Not very dignified. Dan was beside me, also bound to a chair. He was unconscious and bleeding profusely, from his shoulder wound and his lower lip.
Before being frogmarched to the cellar, I’d dropped my mobile phone into the lush grass, so when they searched me they found nothing.
I was flexing my neck muscles, trying to release the tension that was building up in my shoulders and head, when Lady Diamond appeared in the cellar. A fierce looking Baldy and a nervous looking Drake Jolley accompanied her.
Lady Diamond walked over to me. Automatically, I looked up at her ugly face. Then she slapped me across my face, her diamond rings grazing my left cheek while her open palm whacked my right cheek. I could feel blood dripping on to my hooded top. I could taste blood in my mouth and I felt compelled to spit it out.
“That’s for interfering,” Lady Diamond snarled.
She slapped me again and I cried out. From the corner of my eye, I could see the look of satisfaction on her face and I knew that my cries had brought her pleasure.
Lady Diamond was about to strike me for the third time when Drake intervened. “No!” he insisted. “That’s enough. There’s no need for this.”
Through my tangled hair, I looked into Lady Diamond’s cold, grey eyes. You’re dead, lady, I don’t know how or when or where or any of that fancy stuff, but when I get out of this chair I’m going to kill you. From now on, no one is going to slap me around like that.
“What are we going to do with them?” Drake asked plaintively.
“Get them out of here,” Lady Diamond replied. “Kill them.”
“Can’t we just put the frighteners on?” Drake protested. “Scare them, they won’t talk.”
“We kill them.”
Drake scowled. He shook his head, then glanced down to the tops of his highly polished shoes. “You can’t keep murdering people.”
“Why not?” Lady Diamond shot him a withering glance. She was in control, she was in charge and she’d made up her mind.Baldy untied us, though our hands were still bound. Then he dragged Dan and marched me to servants’ entrance.
A meat van was waiting for us at the servants’ entrance and we were bundled into the back of that van. Despite the desperate nature of our situation, the irony did not escape me: a vegetarian carted off to her death in a meat van.
It was cold inside the van. It was cold full stop. Dawn was still an hour away and the day held the promise of clear skies and sunshine. They say that the darkest hour arrives before the dawn; for once, I was hoping that they were right and that I would get to see those clear skies and sunshine.
“You get in there with them,” Lady Diamond told Drake Jolley. “If they make one wrong move, shoot them.”
With an unsteady hand, Drake took a Magnum .357 from Lady Diamond. Then he climbed into the back of the van, alongside Dan and me, while Lady Diamond joined Baldy in the cab.
I had no idea where we were going or how long our journey would last, but I resolved that this would not be the end of my story. And, as you know by now, I can be a stubborn so-and-so when I want to be. I’d been in some tight spots before, admittedly not as tight as this one, and I’d come through. Somehow, I’d come through again. Lady Diamond would not get the better of me.
Fifteen minutes into our journey, Dan stirred. He looked around, somewhat vacantly. His shirt was soaked with blood. Indeed, he’d lost a lot of blood and I sensed that he was dying. His face was pale and covered in sweat. His eyes rolled, uncontrollably, and he mumbled, “Sorry, Sam. Sorry for everything.” Then he closed his eyes and fell into a troubled sleep.
I sat in the rolling van, staring grim-faced at Drake, and his wavering Magnum. He was the weak link in this set-up, the one I had to work on, the one I had to crack. “I was hoping that you were one of the good guys.”
Drake lowered his head. He dropped his arms down between his legs, pointing the Magnum at the van floor. “It’s not what you think; I’m not with them; I’m not into all that stuff.”
“What are you into, Drake?”
He shrugged, looked me in the eye, then looked away again. “Okay, so I enjoy a few kinks with my sex, but I’m not into the heavy stuff; I don’t pay for the services Lady Fiona has on offer, I only pick up the crumbs from her table.”
I nodded. I wanted to believe him. I tended to believe him. “If you’re not with them, why don’t you untie us? Just loosen my bonds, no one will know.”
He glanced towards the front of the van and the sealed off cab. He shook his head, albeit sadly, “They’ll know; they’ll kill me.”
“As I see it, you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. You’re in the back of this van for a reason; they won’t let you walk away from this. Untie my hands then, whatever happens, at least you can rest with your conscience clear.”
Drake glanced at Dan. He glanced at me. His shoulders were hunched, his face morose. When he looked up, his eyes, large behind his spectacles, were bright with unshed tears. “Can you imagine what it was like, growing up as a black kid in the 1980s? The racial abuse, the police harassment. The abuse and harassment killed my father and I made a promise to myself; I promised that nothing like that would ever happen to me.”
“So you got onside with the powerbrokers.”
“I had to. They knew that I had a few secrets. They knew that they could pull the rug from under me, any time they liked. These people control us like puppets. We dance to their tune, we jump when they pull the strings. They have so much power, they do whatever they like, whenever they like, and they won’t let the likes of you screw up their operation. I warned you. I told you not to get involved. Why didn’t you listen?”
I gave him my resolute, hard-as-nails-forged-in-hell expression. “Because for all my faults I’m a determined daughter-of-a-bitch; when I get my teeth into something, I won’t let go.”
Drake nodded. Maybe he understood, maybe he didn’t. But to his credit, he dropped the Magnum .357 on to the van floor and loosened my bonds.
After an hour of rolling around in the back of the van, we stopped. Baldy opened the van door and dragged Dan to his feet. Dan was barely conscious, unaware of his surroundings. However, Baldy showed him no mercy; he threw him over a rusty oil barrel and grinned as Dan moaned. Then Baldy pulled me out of the van and I looked around at a disused limestone quarry. I had no idea where we were: South Wales is so rich in limestone, there are quarries, working and abandoned, at numerous locations.
With dawn breaking over the quarry, we stood and stared into an apparently bottomless pool of water. Over the years, the rain had flooded the quarry and created a lagoon, which on that crisp autumnal morning looked blue and curiously inviting.
Baldy took the Magnum .357 from Drake, adding the weapon to his Smith and Wesson .38. Then the two of them dragged a length of heavy, rusty chain from the rickety foreman’s office. Their plan was obvious: we would be shot, wrapped in the chain and dumped in the lagoon, never to be seen again. Idly, I wondered why T.P. McGill hadn’t taken the early bath and concluded that someone must have interrupted Baldy before he could remove McGill’s body.
Despite holding all the aces, Lady Diamond – sans tiara, but wearing her other baubles – was still annoyed with me. She walked up to me and slapped me again across my face. “You common slut, why did you interfere?”
I gave her an unyielding look through the veil of my dishevelled hair. Then I spat out a tooth. Unbeknown to her, my hands were free and I could have retaliated. But this wasn’t the moment; Lady Diamond had her grubby mitts around the Magnum now and Baldy was covering us with his Smith and Wesson .38. Bide your time, Sam, you’ll get your revenge.
Lady Diamond raised her hand, to strike me again, but Drake intervened. �
�Enough!” he yelled. “You’ve hurt her enough.”
“Get out of my way!” Lady Diamond pushed Drake to the ground. She glared at Baldy. “Shoot the spade as well.”
Baldy nodded. He raised his gun, pointing the barrel at my chest. I tensed, as though my tensed muscles could deflect a speeding bullet. I swallowed hard. What happened next occurred in a matter of seconds, seconds that would change the course of my life.
First Dan leapt from his position, strewn over the oil barrel. He ran towards Baldy yelling, “No!” and took the bullet intended for me. Then Drake rolled over in the dirt and unbalanced Baldy; he grabbed the gunman around his legs and like a tree, the gunman fell, his Smith and Wesson bouncing on the limestone. In one movement, I swooped and picked up the gun.
Dan was dead; I could see that from the corner of my eye. Drake and Baldy were rolling around in the dirt, while Lady Diamond was raising the Magnum .357 and taking careful aim. She was going to shoot me, of that, I had no doubt.
Now remember what your firearms instructor told you – plant your feet, make a firm base; extend your arm, take aim; steady your hand and squeeze the trigger in one smooth movement; remember – you’re not Annie Oakley, so no fancy stuff; aim for the centre of your target.
I did all of the above and yelled, “Take that, you bitch! And that, and that, and that!” I paused for breath, then screamed, “And I hope you rot in hell!” As you know by now, I’m not a very nice person, sometimes.
I glanced down to Drake and Baldy. They were staring at me wide-eyed, as though staring at a madwoman.
I waved the gun and screamed, “Who’s next?” and they scrambled to their feet, holding up their hands.
I took another deep breath, and with my gun trained on Baldy, I hollered at Drake, “You got a mobile phone?”
He fumbled in his trouser pocket and nodded.
“Make the call.”
