Cut to the Bone (41 page)

Grass, trees, fallen branches and mulched leaves. Like treading in slush. Everything was covered in a layer of darkness he wasn’t used to. This was night in the country, no artificial lighting anywhere. He was reluctant to switch on the torch he’d been given. It would be like a beacon. At least he was as invisible as he was blind without it.

Zain twisted his ankle, misplacing his foot on what he thought might be solid ground but turned out to be a dip covered by leaves. He stopped to check, but it was just sore. And all around him the suffocating feeling, like being blindfolded. Like being trapped, not knowing who was looking for you, looking at you.

He spun around; something snapped behind him. How could black have so many shades? How could he see phantoms when he could barely see his hands? And then there was a glow over everything. The moon had escaped, and was gliding across the sky.

Where was he going? There was no destination, just a rough idea to keep moving, heading in a particular direction. The thought that this might be a waste of time crossed his mind a few times. He wondered if DS Lowe and her colleague were faring better. They had headed down a path parallel to his route, but further off.

His phone buzzed.

It was a number he didn’t recognise. A text message. A link. There was no internet connection, barely a signal. He must have wandered into the path of a stray tunnel of connectivity.

He should have plugged into a satellite, got DCI Cross to sort him out.

The message was a map. Zain was a blue dot. A red dot was to his right, about half a mile away. Zain knew who it was from. He was being dragged into someone else’s drama, with a role assigned to him.

And he was ready to play it.

Zain was sure he was near. It had looked like half a mile on the phone. Whoever sent it must have known where the mobile signal would catch, where Zain would pick it up. Was it meant for him? How could they have been sure he would pick it up? Or was it meant for anyone heading that way?

Zain checked the map again. He realised the blue dot had moved. He hadn’t noticed it before; he’d been focused on his target. Zain had moved, and the map had recorded it.

‘Fuck,’ he said.

Something was reading his location. The same satellite that had read Rachel’s location? The text message must have contained malware; he must have uploaded an app or code that broke into his phone.

Zain felt a trace of admiration for James. The man was a genius. A sick, twisted fucker, sure, but still a clever bastard.

So he was reeling Zain in, and Zain was swallowing the bait.

The woods came to a natural end, bordering an orchard. Trees in neat rows, branches curling and intertwined like unruly warriors.

Zain scanned them, trying to see his destination. The map on the phone was still, as he didn’t move. The red dot was only a few yards away, but he couldn’t get a visual on it.

Zain breathed deep, and stepped out from the covered position he was in. Go on, then, he thought, take a shot. Nothing happened, and he walked to where the map told him he would find whatever was there.

He walked down a path, between the battling trees, looking into the shadows, trying to see anything that might be human, or might be watching him. He jumped enough times, movement in the breeze shocking him.

He needed to head right, thought he’d walk to the end of the path he was on and then do it. Fuck it, he thought, and headed into the tree line itself. He fought his way through, tearing his clothes, his skin. He got stuck, broke away whatever branch had trapped him, and fell into the next line of the orchard.

He ran across it, did the same with the next set of trees, and fell into the grassy path again. He was winded, adrenalin running through him. His face was cut, and he felt bruises where he had bashed himself.

It took him a few seconds to be sure; he blinked, refocused. No, it couldn’t be. He saw then. He wasn’t alone.

A figure was kneeling up ahead. Zain gripped his torch, missing the weapon he had carried as part of counter-terrorism ops. He walked slowly, looking at the figure, aware of how exposed he was.

As he got closer, he saw the shape of the head, the hair falling down the back. He recognised the sackcloth. How could this be? It was impossible. Zain was close now, but his eyes were drawn to something else.

Kneeling opposite this figure was another one. Zain could see the outline, and knew it was Dan.

Zain reached out a hand to the figure nearest him, rested a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, trembling, bloody, dirty. Grey under the moonlight, like a spectre, like the dead risen. And she was.

‘Ruby?’ he said.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

Ruby nodded. Her hands were behind her back, tied with plastic. Zain pulled out his penknife and started to cut at the bind, but it wouldn’t budge.

‘Can you walk?’ he said, helping her stand. ‘Where is James?’

‘He’s watching,’ she said. Her voice was dull, etched with insanity. She must have been kept chained, possibly in the empty well. He could smell the same sulphurous odour around her that he had smelled when he’d looked into it.

‘What does he want?’ whispered Zain.

‘Immortality,’ she said.

Zain shivered, as though iron was being dragged across his teeth. ‘Is Dan all right?’ he asked.

‘He’s alive,’ she said.

Zain searched the shadows, trying to work out where James might be. He needed to get Ruby and Dan to safety, hidden among the trees or back into the woods. Provide them with some cover. How was Ruby alive? He had watched her brain being blown out dozens of times.

‘Ruby, I need you to make it to that space there, directly in front of us. Where the trees are growing in front of each other. You can hide between them. Can you do that?’

‘He can see in the dark,’ she said simply.

Zain let her rest her weight on him, and she shuffled along. She was so frail, barely registered physically as he helped her. He tucked her in between the trunks of the trees he had identified, and tried to cover her with branches. There might be some concealment, but not if James got close and had his night-vision glasses on.

Zain went back into the orchard path, and walked quickly to where Dan was. He was just reaching him when his phone buzzed again. He took it out, and he saw it was another map delivered to him by satellite.

He opened it up. This time there were three red dots. Two were overlapping. Himself and Dan, obviously. One was nearby, Ruby. Then the map started to shake, and into the screen came a yellow dot. Something was heading towards them.

‘Fuck me,’ he said, grabbing Dan. ‘Can you walk? Fuck that, can you run?’

Dan nodded, whimpering.

‘Head that way, into the woods, do you understand?’

Dan nodded again, and started walking as fast as he could. He was dragging his left leg behind him, his limp too pronounced. James must have damaged it further in some way.

Zain ran to where Ruby was, and bent down, telling her to get on his back. He had given piggy-back rides to his step sisters, and Ruby didn’t weigh more than them, he was sure. She gripped his throat with birdlike hands and bony arms as he started running in the same direction as Dan.

He should have checked his phone, seen where James was, but he needed to put distance between them, fast. He caught up with Dan quickly, but he couldn’t carry him as well as Ruby.

‘Keep going, Dan, you’re doing great,’ he said.

He could get Ruby into the woods . . .

He stopped, let Ruby slide from his back, and took out his phone. James was close, nearly on top of them. Zain threw his phone in the opposite direction to them. It would at least give them a few seconds, and James wouldn’t be able to track them into the woods.

He let Ruby get onto his back again and headed into the woods, Dan panting and struggling behind them.

Zain was safely past the border of hardwoods, dropping Ruby and then hitting the ground himself. He was still catching his breath when the first shot rang out.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen

The H145 helicopter that had earlier delivered Zain landed close to her rendezvous point. Kate switched on her satellite phone as soon as the rotor blades came to a standstill. Her signal clear in the dark but open expanse of the South Downs National Park, it buzzed almost immediately.

‘Finally – have been trying for the last five minutes,’ said Michelle.

‘Literally just landed and switched it on,’ said Kate. ‘The Hants Tactical Firearms Support Unit are already here waiting for me. I need you to guide us to where we need to be. Did you get in contact with Harris?’

‘Not yet, his phone has no signal. And he switched his GPS off.’

A man in his early thirties came up to her, his helmet off, but the rest of his body armour in place.

‘Detective Riley? I’m Detective Tom Pierce, designated aenior officer for TFSU.’ TFSU was the Hampshire police version of SO19. Kate had tried to get the Met’s team, but logistics and distance had meant outsourcing again.

‘Thank you for the quick response, detective. We believe the suspect, James Fogg, is armed. He has used his weapon before, and we believe he will use it again. I’m afraid he may feel backed into a corner, so is extremely dangerous.’

‘We have eight armed officers ready to go when you say. All specialist firearms officers. I have an ambulance and medical aid on the way as well.’

‘Thank you, detective. My team back in London are trying to track the location of one of my officers already in the field.’

I just hope we find him before James Fogg does, she thought.

*

They were parked up, sheltered by some trees, not moving. The armed officers were inside the van, but Kate stood outside with a now-helmeted Detective Pierce, to allow better reception to her sat phone. Pierce looked eerie, like an alien life form, in the darkness. Huge goggle eyes staring down at her.

She had been given body armour to wear, but despite being licensed, and trained, she wasn’t allowed to carry a gun. She had also been told to keep a back seat when they were called into action.

The buzz of her phone made her jump. She noticed Pierce stayed still. Good to know armed police could hold their nerve when the unexpected happened.

‘Michelle, what have you got?’ she said.

‘Something odd. There’s scant mobile phone reception in the area, but there are a couple of hotspots. I located Zain’s phone to the one you are at now.’

‘Did you find where he is yet?’

‘No. But there was a data packet delivered from a satellite phone.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think a virus was uploaded onto Zain’s phone, piggybacking onto a text message or some other form of communication. I think that’s why his GPS is broken. It’s been maliciously disabled.’

‘Did you run a trace for where the packet was delivered from?’

‘Yes. It’s unlisted, and the satellite companies are harder to get data from than Google. I’m sure it’s that sick James Fogg, though. It’s too much of a coincidence otherwise.’

Kate felt a thrill, a possible ending. If they could get a lock on James’s location, she could get to Zain and see what was left. Dan might still be alive.

‘It might be a random app delivering something, but highly unlikely they would use satellite technology. For one thing, it’s not particularly secure.’

Kate didn’t respond. She heard Pierce breathing heavily through his mask next to her. She felt her own blood rushing behind her eyes.

‘Tell me, Michelle,’ said Kate. ‘From everything we know about James Fogg, the highly skilled technical genius he is, do you think he would use a satellite phone and not know that it wasn’t secure?’

Michelle was calculating, unwilling probably to say what they both knew.

‘It might be the only sort of reception he could get out there. He might have been forced to. Alternatively . . .’

‘Alternatively he chose an unsafe form of communication, knowing full well we would find him. He wants to be found. This is his end game. How close can you get to him?’

‘They have a six-mile radius,’ said Michelle.

‘That’s what, ten kilometres almost? Get me something better than that.’

‘I can send a signal to the unlisted number that hit Zain’s phone, see if I can get you a direction.’

‘Get me whatever you can, but ten kilometres is not good enough.’

Kate signalled Pierce, filled him in as they loaded up into the TFSU van. She felt foreboding now. In the dark, with such a wide area to search, the chances of finding Zain or Dan were minimal.

She did something then she never did. She prayed she was not too late.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen

The night silence was shattered. The gunshot had done it, followed by Dan screaming. Ruby was sobbing. Zain crawled over to her.

‘Ruby, listen to me,’ he whispered. ‘Look at me. This is going to be OK. We are going to live. The world thought you were dead, and you’re not. I will not let James Fogg do that to you tonight. You have to help me, though. You have to stay quiet and still.’

Her sobbing subsided into hiccups and silent shivering. Zain took his jacket off and put it around her. He piled up wet leaves against her, trying to cover her as much as possible. The night-vision goggles wouldn’t be able to discern her if she was hidden.

Her hands were still tied behind her back; he tried cutting through the plastic again with his penknife, but it was hopeless and he grazed her skin in the darkness. His best chance to save her was to stop James.

Zain crept along the ground, tasting rain-sodden soil and decaying autumn, until he was at the edge of the woods. He peered into the orchard, lit weakly by the scarred moon, remembered where he had left Dan.

There was silence. Only the sound of his heart hammering against his ribcage, and the loud rasp of his breathing. He wanted them to be silent. Another time, another prayer. Let it be still, so they can’t hear that I’m still alive.

He moved forward, inch by inch. Exposed, wondering what James was doing to Dan.

It felt like an hour, but must have been a few minutes at most, as he finally reached the first line of trees of the orchard. Zain crawled into the tangle of branches, squinting, hoping he could see something that would let him know where Dan and James were.