Chasing Innocence (43 page)

The bare expanse of her flesh quickened the fluttering inside him, not the dark slithering, but a giddy sensation he barely recalled. He stepped around the bed towards her and tipped the book to see the cover.

‘Why are you reading the end?’ he asked.

‘Because it’s not my kind of book,’ she replied, looking up at him. ‘I just wanted to know what happens.’

His eye skimmed the page. ‘It’s one of my favourites.’

‘What happens to him?’

‘It’s not about him,’ he answered. ‘It’s about her, he’s just her guardian.’

She closed the book and he drifted his fingers across the skin of her back and shoulder. She sent a tentative smile up to him. ‘Why don’t you shower and I’ll finish this, then you can explain to me your favourite book.’

His fingers paused on her shoulder. ‘What are you doing?’

‘You can see what I’m doing.’

‘No, why are you being like this?’

She let her head rest back against the headboard. ‘Because if I don’t try and do something normal I’ll go mad and I really mean that. It’s not something you ever expect to do, to run away with a…a kidnapper and that’s the best light I can paint you in.’

‘So you’re coming, of your own free will?’ he asked, his voice hopeful.

‘You mean I have a choice?’

‘You know the choices. I meant you are here rather than fighting me.’

‘What is there to fight with? I go where the girl does. You know my intentions. I’m hoping to show you the error of your ways. What will you say to Hakan?’

She watched him pull off his shirt and walk back around the bed, unable to pull her eyes from him, the natural poise of a predator with few peers. He stopped by the door that led to the shower.

‘Hakan thinks you’re still in the house. He’ll need machinery to get into the room, and for that he needs the brothers. How long before he finds out depends on his priorities. I would say a day, maybe two. By then it will be too late. He won’t be thrilled but what matters to him is delivering the girl. He’s not worried about that.’ He unbuckled his trousers. ‘He practically owns me.’

‘How so?’

‘My father. He built a number of obligations that became mine when he died. Hakan took them on.’

‘Obligations?’

He smiled ruefully. ‘Money type obligations, they sprout legs and arms and lots of attitude, especially if they originate in Asia. Read the end of the book,’ he said and walked into the shower.

She looked at the pages but did not read the words. There had been half an opportunity as he leaned over to check the book, but she needed more than half an opportunity. She slipped the spare razor back into the book, listening to the sound of water as she struggled through the last twenty pages.

EIGHTY-FOUR

The harsh discharge of the gun filled the night air, sending seagulls flapping and squawking in alarm, the noise rolling out to sea. Brian could see the man was young, in his early twenties. He took a step towards him.

‘You never know, mate, maybe the bullet will get me on the way back down.’

‘Stop!’ The man’s voice was buffeted by conflicting eddies of air.

Brian did. ‘Put it down for Christ’s sake! Do you know how old that is? If it’s the P38 you’re talking 1940s, that’s older than your granddad. Very latest we’re talking 1970s. I bet the recoil really fucking hurt, didn’t it? Pull the trigger again and you’re likely to break your wrist. How many times have you fired it, a couple in the woods? Probably not even that. You didn’t even mean to fire it did you? The safety’s on the left side, do yourself a favour.’

The young man stood still and Brian took a step that went without reply. ‘I know you weren’t issued with that by this lot, this lot are far too professional. Guns attract the wrong kind of attention.’ He rested his right hand on the handle of the bat. ‘So you probably bought it from some bloke in the pub, or even stole it from your granddad. Did you check the magazine, made sure you’ve got more bullets in there? Cleaned it yet? It’s easy to get blockages, especially if it’s been sitting around for fifty years.’ He took another step. ‘How’d you think Hakan will react when he finds out you’re carrying a gun? Not happy, I’d guess.’ He took another two steps.

‘Stay where you are.’

Brian stopped. He could see the whites of scared eyes. ‘Look mate, I really don’t want to hurt you. But think about your two blond buddies, where are they? Would I be taking a stroll if they weren’t all kinds of mangled inside? That’s what you’ve got to think about. And I mean proper mangled. If you thought they were hard fucking cases, and there’s no disputing they were, I’ve got to be all kinds of nasty. What is there, eight, maybe ten yards between me and you? If the recoil doesn’t break your wrist and the gun doesn’t blow up in your face, you’ll only have time for one more shot. Then I’ll be all over you like some avenging fucking angel. One shot, that’s all. Even if you hit me and not a seagull up there, I’m still getting to you unless you land one between the eyes. And I don’t figure on that happening. Either way you’re screwed. So put the gun on the ground and fuck off.’

The man kept the gun levelled at Brian, took two sideways steps away from the car, stood very still for several seconds and then lowered the gun to the ground and turned and ran. Brian watched the soles of his trainers fade into the night.

He picked up the gun, a Walther P1 from the weight of it. He stripped it and removed the chambered round, the gun was of no use to him at all. He was next to useless with his left hand even with a thumb. With his right he stood more chance of hitting his foot. He threw the parts into the sea, thumbing each of the rounds from the magazine and throwing them in as well.

There was a mobile in the car’s glove compartment along with a chocolate bar, which he devoured as he studied the mobile. He guessed it was Baldur’s. It was locked with a pin. He tried several obvious sequences, but each failed. After five attempts it refused to let him try again. He pulled out the battery, put it back and waited for the phone to flare to life, but it remained locked. He dropped it on the passenger seat and cursed himself for not getting the car keys with the gun. He ran, carefully, barefoot across the sandy scrub, onto mud and to the road, the hard surface cold beneath his feet, following the coastline with lights shimmering in the middle horizon.

EIGHTY-FIVE

The water slapped the concrete below his feet. His head was level with the top step, studying the repeated routine of the trolley. He could lean sideways over the water and see a low platform at the back of the boat. Already piles of boxes had been lifted down. There was no other obvious way onto the boat.

The trolley stopped and more boxes were offloaded and then the wheels circled around. Adam waited for the tall figure to disappear inside the workshop. He climbed the few steps and jogged to the boat.

He jumped with only a moment of hesitation, landing on both feet but off balance, his hands on the floor as he bumped awkwardly into boxes. He steadied himself and looked around. Directly in front of him was a large enclosed space beneath the main deck, big enough for a small car and partially filled with boxes. To the right of the space was a set of rising steps. Keeping low he climbed to the main deck and a flooring of neat slatted wood, a covered sofa and an outside bar with a TV boxed in clear plastic. Just beyond this was a wide expanse of glass and two sliding doors. He looked at himself reflected in the glass, a dark shadow crouched, the illuminated dock tower rising behind him.

He edged to the glass panel but it was locked. He looked around. A walkway led around both sides to the front, and steps to his left dropped steeply into the boat. He shuffled across and as carefully and as silently as he could, climbed down, into a wide area of sparse grey metal, a communal area for crew with doors set into angled walls. Another door opposite led further into the boat, a workshop. He walked through into the engine room and past two giant cylindrical shapes lying horizontal on a frame with masses of intertwined cables and tubes. It looked like something mislaid by NASA over anything he might imagine to be on a yacht. There was no way forward so he walked back through.

He had one foot on the bottom step when the obvious suddenly occurred to him. He moved back to the angled metal doors, going to the one on the left first. It was unlocked. He opened it. Inside was a single bed that had been made, but the neat order of sheets had been disturbed. Someone had been on the bed. The other door was locked. He considered the logistics.

This area had to be soundproofed. It would have to be with this kind of luxury and those engines. He fetched a large wrench from the workshop, then back to the door, took aim and with only the slightest hesitation, brought the wrench down hard on the metal handle. The noise was brief and harsh and followed by a startled yelp from beyond. A child’s yelp, he thought as he hit out again, causing the door to jump ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside.

It was a small space, identical to the other. In this one a young girl was sitting on the bed, her hair tousled, wearing a pink T-shirt and jeans. She was pressing herself back against the wall, exhaustion in her eyes, a wild echo of the smiling face and the girl she had been.

‘Andrea?’ He took another step and she shuffled back to the end of the bed, putting one leg to the floor. ‘It’s OK Andrea. I’ve come to take you home.’

‘Who’re you?’ Her eyes moved from his face to the wrench and back to his face.

‘My name is Adam.’

Her face briefly flickered recognition, then back to unsure, backing into the corner. ‘Adam? Sarah’s Adam?’ Puzzled to herself, ‘You can’t be. Adam’s at home. Sarah said.’

‘It’s me Andrea. I’m here with your dad to take you home.’

‘Don’t believe you! Where is he then?’ Her mood was now defiant, her eyes warily on the wrench.

Adam laid it on the floor. ‘Daddy’s searching somewhere else. We’ve looked all over for you.’ Adam had no idea where Brian was, trying to think of ways to win the girl over fast, uncertainty still in her eyes. He lowered himself to one knee, making himself smaller.

‘Andrea, we don’t have much time. You need to trust me. I know your daddy. He has angel wings on his back, how many people know that? Would I know that if he didn’t tell me?’

‘They’re not real wings,’ she said dismissively, but her fear had evaporated in an instant. ‘Is he really here? He did come to get me, I knew he would.’ Her mood effortlessly shifted to jubilant. ‘Are they ever going to be sorry.’ She stepped towards him. ‘Can you take me to him? He needs to help me find my friend. Sarah’s gone.’

‘You’ve been with Sarah?’

‘Yes, of course. We’ve been together all this time.’ The muscles in her face shifted as she tried to recollect the span of
all this time,
and failing.

‘When did you last see Sarah?’

‘She said something horrid was going to happen and we had to fight. I couldn’t do much.’ She raised her hands at her side, demonstrating it was only her size that prevented her from fighting. ‘I did help and I gave her the razors. I’ve been worried about her, she was getting more ill.’ She tapped the side of her head to demonstrate her point. ‘In here. They’ve been horrid, horrid people. They did bad things to her. I could see, although she said she was fine. I could see, I tried to help make her better.’

Adam reached out and held her shoulders as gently as the rising panic inside him would allow. It startled her a little but she could see his intent. ‘When was the last time you saw Sarah?’

‘In the house.’ She paused, looking around at this new room. ‘He came for me. He gave me a drink and said I was going on a journey with Sarah, and then I woke up here.’ She absently pushed her hair behind her ears. ‘You will find her won’t you?’

‘Yes, but you need to listen to me and do exactly as I say. I think your daddy will be here very soon. I cannot leave without Sarah, you understand? I’ll find her and we will come for you.’ She nodded wide-eyed.

‘So I want you to hide down here.’ He led her out of the small room into the communal area. ‘Hide anywhere.’ He pointed towards the workshop. ‘Anywhere, but stay down here because Simon is outside. I will come back for you. I have to find Sarah.’ She nodded again. ‘And proper hiding,’ he said. ‘So if they come down and see that door they will think you have escaped and gone outside. So you have to stay quiet unless it’s me,’ he thought for a second, ‘or Sarah or your dad. You got that?’

‘Yes,’ she said, dazed, surveying the room with serious eyes. There were lots of small drawers and cupboards. She trotted into the workshop. Adam watched as she peered beneath the bench and disappeared into the engine room. He felt guilty leaving her there, but leaving without Sarah was not an option. He considered the wrench but decided against it, climbing the steps back to the main deck.

EIGHTY-SIX

Ten minutes and distant lights became distinguishable as roads and industrial buildings. Ten minutes after that he jogged beneath street lighting and over a roundabout, passing a petrol station with an impossibly high canopy, then a two-storey glass building set behind a narrow car park, empty save for a dark Mercedes parked at an angle.

He checked the number plate and slowed, breathing hard as he jogged around to the back of the building, along a path skirted by bare trees that opened to grass leading down to the water and slatted wooden quays. Row upon row of yachts were parked like cars, a dizzying array of masts and lights all creaking to the swell of the restless ocean.

He stepped onto the grass, put two fingers to his mouth and whistled, the sound harsh and short in the night. He listened intently but nothing was returned. He peered through the thick glass at the back of the building, only discerning silhouettes made by light from the front. Not even a glowing computer screen. He tried the double doors, both were unlocked and swung heavily as he stepped inside, into an office, open plan over two floors, the ground floor given to a reception and administration. The only sound was a faint repetitive noise, as if the wind was playing with paper left by an open window, or deft fingers flicking through the pages of a file. He whistled again, this time low.