Fear of the Fathers (11 page)

Six feet to her right she could just make out the dark figure of her captor. He was lying on top of the bed and, apart from his shoes, still fully clothed. His hands were positioned behind his head. She couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

A few minutes later he rose, flicked on the bedside lamp, and went for a lengthy shower. It was half an hour before Annie heard the door unlock.

“I expect you would like to get cleaned up,” he said.

Annie nodded.

Kamal removed her gag and untied her wrists. She thanked him and limped through to the bathroom.

She looked in the mirror, slightly startled by the face staring back. She almost didn't recognize it as her own. Mascara and dried blood had free-falled into a Pollockian mess, making her look like a sinister gothic clown. Her long dark hair was tangled and her eyes were hangover red.

She stripped and hobbled into the shower, covering her dressing with a piece of white bin liner. The hot water felt sublime against her skin. She scrubbed and cleaned until she'd rid herself of both the physical and emotional dirt of the previous night.

After showering she looked in the mirror again and was pleased to see a vaguely human form. Her eyes were still strained but at least her face appeared cosmetically clean. She fingered the locket that hung just below her neck, and then clasped it tight and said a little prayer. Her boy needed an angel to watch over him.

She dried herself down, put on her shirt and the oversized jogging pants, and returned to the bedroom. Kamal motioned her to sit down on the bed. She did as she was told. This man was not to be disobeyed.

“Right then,” he said. “I think it is time that you told me what is going on. You can start by telling me exactly who you are and who you work for.”

“My name's Annie Steele and I work for the Bateman Group of hotels.”

Kamal stared at her coldly. “Do not lie to me. Hotel workers do not attempt to kill their guests. Particularly not with advanced intelligence methods. You cannot buy those patches in the local pharmacy.”

Annie frowned. “I'm not lying. I work for the hotel – I have done for two years.”

Kamal sighed. “This is not going to help your cause Annie – if indeed that is your real name. You must tell me the truth or else the consequences will be most unpleasant. Possibly terminal.”

Annie shuffled awkwardly on the bed and looked away. She knew this man would kill her without a second thought, but she also knew the possible consequences of opening up. Whatever happened she couldn't let her boy down.

“Come on,” said Kamal impatiently. “I am waiting.”

“I can't tell you.”

“Cannot or will not.”

“Both,” said Annie determinedly. She clasped her locket.

Kamal noticed. “What is that?” he asked.

“Just a pendant,” she said, letting go her grip.

“May I have a look?”

“No.”

Kamal fixed her eyes with his.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “But I'm not taking it off.”

Kamal nodded and leant over to examine the locket. He opened it up and saw a picture of a little boy – probably no more than six years old. “Is this your son?” he asked.

Annie nodded.

“He looks like a fine little boy. How old is he?”

“He'll be seven in a couple of months.”

Kamal studied her face carefully. “Who is looking after him?”

Annie hesitated, then said, “His grandma.”

“Then why are you so distressed?” asked Kamal.

“Because I miss him. I want to see him.”

“Well then, perhaps you had better start talking or else he will soon be motherless.” Kamal went to his holdall, drew out the gun, and began checking the firing mechanism.

“They've got him!” she cried. “They've got him.”

Kamal continued to scrutinize his gun. “Who has got him?”

“I don't know…They said…they said they were Special Branch.”

Kamal looked at her curiously. “Really? And you believed them?”

“Why wouldn't I? They had ID.”

“And these Special Branch men – they just appeared out of nowhere and asked you to kill me?”

“They took my boy and my mother.”

“That is neither here nor there,” said Kamal. “You are expecting me to believe that Special Branch entrusted an innocent hotel worker with the task of removing a skilled assassin?”

“Look,” Annie pleaded. “They told me to stick the patch on you. They said it would send you to sleep.”

“Again, this is not the point. Why would they send someone with no experience?”

“I don't know…I don't know. They said that you wouldn't be suspicious of me.”

Kamal shrugged. “Well, they were right about that. But it still does not wear with me. There is something else to this I am sure. I say again – they would not send an innocent into the fray.”

Tears rolled down Annie's cheeks. “Look, I've told you the truth. There's nothing else I can say.”

Kamal put his gun back together and got to his feet. He needed some air, some space to think. “Very well,” he said. “I can see that I will get no more from you at the moment.”

After securing and gagging her once more he left the room and walked out of the motel. The sky was dreary grey and threatening rain. He breathed in deeply and then exhaled slowly. Against his better judgement the girl was starting to get to him. He had been around long enough to know when he was being strung along, and this was not one of those times. She may well have been hiding something, but he was certain the story about her son was the truth. She also believed that the men who took him were Special Branch. Of course, whether they actually were was another matter entirely.

Complications were mounting by the minute. He had already missed his flight back home to Mumbai. Getting on another would not be a problem, but he had to deal with the girl first. His head was telling him to kill her at the earliest opportunity, yet the part of him that used to house his soul was making noises it should not. Something had stayed his hand in the hotel room, and perhaps that same something had jammed the Browning.

He shook his head at the illogical thought process. It had been over twenty-five years since he had questioned any of his actions. That day came flooding back to him now in full, sickening detail.

What would
she
say he wondered? As soon as he asked the question he knew the answer. She would tell him to stop and think. She would tell him to let go of his coldness. She would tell him to help the girl.

But she was dead.

He walked across the car park contemplating his next move, torn between professionalism and the distant echo of compassion from a long-deceased mentor. The battle meandered in his head, one minute branching this way, the next the other.

Eventually he made a decision. And that was to let fate decide. He found a secluded spot in the trees behind the petrol station and drew the Browning from his waistband. With the silencer on he fired two shots into the ground. The gun was working perfectly. He picked up the shells and returned to the motel.

Back inside the room he kept his gaze away from the girl. He lifted a pillow and covered her face. He positioned his gun for a silent kill and pulled the trigger.

The fire crackled and spat with a luxurious warmth that enveloped the whole body. Oggi stretched out with his back to a log and lit a cigarette, pleased that new nicotine supplies were on their way and that he didn't have to count them any longer. There was nothing worse than having to ration your tabs in an already stressful situation. Stratton, of course, continually made the point that it was a great time to give up; that it was all an illusion, and that smoking, in reality, made you more stressed. And perhaps he was right. But, right or wrong, there was no denying that smoking made him feel good, and he took great pleasure from it. He looked across the fire at Stratton and pitied his tobaccoless life.

Titan who had been sleeping next to Stratton suddenly bolted up and pricked his ears. He sniffed the air quickly and then lay back down again. From the darkness Tags and Dino appeared laden with bags.

“I hope you've got some curry in amongst that lot,” said Oggi.

“Yes, don't worry your lordship,” said Tags. “I've got everything you asked for.”

They set down the provisions – two rucksacks' full – next to the dugout. Dino brought two large white bags up to the fire.

Oggi eyed the bags hungrily. “Excellent,” he said. “I've been looking forward to this for ages. Did you get some beer as well?”

“Yeah,” said Dino. “I'll just go and get it.”

Dino grabbed the drinks and Stratton went into the dugout to get some plates. Oggi and Tags removed the take-away boxes from the bags and laid them out. They all helped themselves and sat around the fire, eating curry and drinking beer.

“This is fantastic,” Oggi said to Tags. “It's one of those little things that make life worthwhile.”

Half an hour later they were all sitting down with full bellies. Even Titan seemed to have taken a liking to spicy food.

“If I copped it right now, I'd die a happy man,” said Oggi, lighting a post-dinner cigarette.

“Amen to that brother,” piped Dino, patting his belly.

“I'm amazed you're not the size of a fucking whale, the amount you put away Dino,” Oggi said.

“I've got a fast metabolism.
Younger
people generally do,” he smirked, pointedly.

Oggi picked up a small piece of firewood and threw it at him. “You cheeky little fucker,” he laughed.

“Have you two thought any more about your long-term plans?” asked Tags. “I mean, you can't really stay out here much longer can you? In a month or so the tourist season'll start up, and then you'll be fucked.”

“I know,” said Stratton. “Don't worry, I've been thinking about it. Whatever happens we'll have to be gone by mid-April at the latest. I just need a bit more time to chew it over. It's not an easy decision to make. In the meantime, if you guys could keep an eye on Stella and that priest it'd be a big help.”

Tags nodded. “No problem mate. I'll talk to him at the memorial next week as well and see if I can get more of a read on him.”

“Why don't you come along Strat?” said Dino. “It'd be funny attending your own funeral. You could wear a disguise or something.”

Stratton laughed. “I have to admit, the thought has crossed my mind. But I can't take the chance of anyone recognizing me. I'm dead, and I intend to stay that way for the foreseeable future.”

“What's it like?” asked Dino.

Stratton took a swig of beer. “What's what like?” he said.

“Being dead.”

Stratton looked up to the stars. “It's like being more alive than you can possibly imagine, Dino.”

“Sounds pretty cool. No wonder so many people commit suicide.”

Stratton shook his head. “I don't think it's as simple as that. So I wouldn't go trying it. Just be happy in the knowledge that when you do go it's not the end.”

“Don't worry, I wasn't thinking about taking my own life,” said Dino. “But if it's so good – why did you have us bring you back?”

“Good question,” said Stratton, and paused to think. “For a start I had no idea what it would be like until it happened. And I'd already given Oggi the instructions on what to do if I died.” He stopped and had another swig of beer. “And secondly, I wanted to come back. There's still things I need to do.”

“Like what?” pressed Dino.

“Like answer your persistent questions,” he grinned.

Dino opened his mouth to say something else, but the look in Stratton's eyes told him there was nothing more forthcoming.

Time drew on, and just after 9pm Tags suggested that he and Dino make a move. They had a three hour journey ahead of them.

Stratton and Oggi thanked them both and suggested they return after the memorial with any news.

When they had gone Oggi threw some more wood onto the dwindling fire to liven it up. “What's this plan of yours then?” he said.

“I haven't really thought it through properly yet.”

“Can't you even give me a hint?”

Stratton lay back and closed his eyes. “I could, but then I'd have to kill you.”

“Well, if you're going to be like that,” Oggi said.

“Sorry mate,” said Stratton. “You know I'm only joking. The thing is, I can't tell you because I don't really know myself. All I know is that it'll present itself when it wants to. I'm going to call out for assistance.”

“And how are you going to do that exactly?”

Stratton was silent, the only sound came from Titan purring loudly in his sleep.