Holy Island Trilogy 03 - The Final Countdown (13 page)

The urgency in the man’s voice was infectious. Smiler, Danny, and even the dog scuttled quickly in through the gate and down the path into the house.

Coming through into the kitchen from the opposite direction, at the same time as they all tumbled in through the door, Rita stared at them for a moment, before nodding her head. ‘It’s the electricity charge in the air, Smiler. A build-up, that’s all, their far-seers trying to find you.’

‘Guess they nearly did.’ Smiler shivered.

‘Didn’t the dog warn you?’

Smiler looked down at Tiny. ‘I guess he tried to.’

‘Take notice of him in future, Smiler. Dogs are very sensitive to this sort of stuff.’

‘What fucking sort of stuff?’ Danny demanded, sick of being handed to one stranger after another like an unwanted parcel. Then he went on impatiently, ‘You want to know something?’ He looked Rita up and down. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m just about fucked off with everything.’ He turned to go, only to find his way out blocked by his travelling companion.

‘And you can fuck off an' all, Mr fucking Happy.’

‘Danny, calm down,’ Rita said softly.

Danny spun back round. Shaking his head, he stared at Rita. She was dressed in a yellow sundress with matching high heels, and her blonde wig curled on her shoulders. ‘You know what? I don’t care any more. Do you know what I think, eh? Do you?’

Rita nodded.

‘I think I’ve been right all along. I’m locked up in some nut house, and all this is nowt but a fucking dream. ‘Cos you wanna know what, Mr…Mrs…whatever…you are just about the final fucking straw.’

Smiler quickly moved in front of Rita and faced Danny. ‘Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking to her.’

‘Or what?’ Danny squared up to Smiler. Never the bravest of souls, Danny had finally reached the end. This lot and their fucking dog could just fuck off. He raised his fists to Smiler.

Quickly Rita inserted herself between them. ‘OK, that’s enough, we’re all on the same side. Now, come on. Let's go sit down and talk this through.’

’Best of luck,’ the man said, giving Rita a wave as he walked out the door.

‘And who the fuck’s he? The bastard hasn’t said more than half a dozen fucking words the whole time I’ve been with him.’

‘Come on, I’ll explain.’

‘Explain!’ Danny said, under his breath. ‘This I gotta hear.’

‘Shut up, fuck face,’ Smiler snapped.

Danny glared at Smiler. ’You gotta be kidding.’

‘Enough.’ Rita pushed Smiler in the direction of the sitting room.

Without looking at each other, Smiler led the way and Danny followed Rita into the sitting room, with Tiny bringing up the rear.

Sitting down in the brown leather chair beside the fire that Rita offered him, Danny muttered, ’This better be good.’

Rita and Smiler sat opposite him on the matching settee. Between them, an oak coffee table held half a dozen women’s magazines. In the corner near the window there was a revolving globe on a metal stand, and a large pink orchid in full bloom in the window.

Seeing Danny looking at the magazines, Smiler said hastily, ‘They aren’t just for Rita. There’s a few girls here as well.’

‘Never said nowt.’ Danny shrugged.

‘No, but you--’

‘All right, enough. Danny meet Smiler… Smiler meet Danny… Both of you have suffered greatly at the hands of the families, so please, I really need you to get along.’

‘Why?’ Danny asked.

‘Yeah, why?’ Smiler looked Danny up and down, then sniffed.

Danny narrowed his eyes at him.

Rita puffed the air out of her lungs, disturbing her heavy blonde fringe, as Danny and Smiler shrugged together in a move which looked as if it had been set by a choreographer.

NORWICH

CHAPTER THIRTY

Shelly dressed carefully, from the clothes in her wardrobe that Coral had filled the day before. She chose nondescript colours, matching various shades of grey, in leggings, long plain tunic top and short jacket, even managing to find a pair of grey shoes amongst the half-dozen pairs at the bottom of the wardrobe.

She had never bothered to ask where the clothes had come from, just accepted them as part of the service. What Coral, Ella and others around the country were doing was definitely a service, and a very noble one, too.

Looking in the mirror she decided against make up of any kind, and brushed her short, recently bleached blonde hair behind her ears.

She gave herself the once over and, satisfied that even her own brothers would never recognise her, slipped three fully loaded insulin pens into her pocket.

‘Now to get out of here without anyone seeing me,’ she said to the mirror, and headed for the door.

Slowly she opened it and, straining her ears and satisfied that there was no one in the immediate location, crept slowly along the hallway. Pausing a moment when she heard a low moaning coming from one of the bedrooms as she passed, she grimaced and thought, I know exactly what you’re going through, love.

Reaching the back door into the garden, she slipped outside, past the pond, and was at the gate in seconds. Next minute, she was out in the street and closing the gate behind her.

It had been easy slipping Aunt May’s purse out of her bag, when she went with Coral and Ella to check up on Annya. Lifting a twenty and ignoring the fifty, knowing it would bring strange looks when she tried to cash it in, she’d dropped the purse beside the chair, trying to make it look like it had fallen out of the bag.

Walking to the end of the street, she justified her theft, thinking that she would pay Aunt May back as soon as she could, and that, in the long run, they would thank her for what she was about to do. It was the only option she had. They certainly wouldn’t let her go willingly, and that was a fact.

And this is something I have to do!

Even supposing it kills me, and it probably will. After all, no one really cares if I live or die.

Danny hates me. Annya hates me. Probably the whole fucking world hates me.

Five minutes later, she was in a taxi and heading for town. She knew just the bars she wanted, the routine that was used, and what worked before would surely work again. It would be easier and less suspicious if she was actually picked up from town.

An hour later, she was dancing in one of the town centre's busiest bars. She’d joined a girl who was way gone, and wouldn’t know her own mother from a mad gorilla. Already she was behaving as if Shelly was her best friend.

‘So,’ Shelly said five minutes later, as she was propping her up in the queue for the Ladies. ‘Where did you get the gear from, then?’

The girl, small and elfin-featured with long black hair, giggled, put her hand over her mouth and muttered, ’Not supposed to say till they’ve seen you.’

‘You can tell me, though, can’t you, Sarah? We’re best friends, aren’t we?’

For a moment, the girl looked at her as if she didn’t have a clue who she was. Then, grinning, she muttered, ‘Course I can. You’re my best friend, ain't you… See him over there?’  She motioned with her head towards a young guy standing at the bar.

Shelly looked over to her right. It was hard to pick faces out in the dimly-lit club. ‘No,’ the girl nudged her, ‘over that way. Him leaning against the bar, with the red shirt on… Ooh, if we don’t hurry up, I’m gonna pee right here on the floor!’

‘Won’t be long. Look, we’re moving again.’

‘Good, ‘cos--’

But Shelly wasn’t listening. She had already disappeared as, frowning, the girl looked around for her.

Shelly circled the room and stood a few yards away from the young man, looking him up and down. Dark-haired and clean-shaven, he looked fresh out of college at first glance, not the druggie type. But as Shelly knew well, you couldn’t always tell. Some showed their addictions a lot more than others. Though in the end, they all paid the price.

She knew that the Leader liked the men and boys clean-shaven, just the same as he liked the girls to have long black hair.  Guess this is it, then, she thought, moving closer. My ticket in!

He turned then, and caught Shelly looking at him. On cue, she  smiled and moved next to him.

Pretending to be drunk, she put her arm over his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

‘What makes you think I’ll have anything like that on me?’ he said, a touch of mock anger in his voice. ‘Somebody said something, have they?’ He looked around.

Shelly shrugged. ‘No, just thought you might... you know, know somebody?’

He studied her for a moment, then smiled. ‘You tried the new stuff yet, babes?’

‘No, but I’ve heard it’s mind-blowing, all right. Why? You got some on you?’ She batted her eyelids at him.

He slipped his arm around her waist. ‘Come with me.’

Arm in arm, they went outside to the car park. ‘Fancy a drive?’

‘Where to?'

‘Well, got no stuff on me now. Actually,’ he grinned, as he ran his forefinger down the middle of her cleavage, ‘sold out today much quicker than anticipated.’

‘OK.' She smiled at him, even though what she really wanted was to snap his finger off and shove it right up his arse. ‘ Why not?’

‘Come on, then.’ He took her hand and led her over to his car, a white open-topped sports type.  He opened the door for her, then went round to his side. Jumping in, he started the engine. As they drove out of the car park, he asked her name.

‘Sss...Sandy. What’s yours?’

He didn’t answer. Instead he winked at her.

‘So, where are we going, babes?’

He stared at her for a moment before smiling. ‘To a place you are just going to love.’

I just bet I am, she thought, smiling back at him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Staring out of the bedroom window, Tarasov turned and glared at the slave girl as she placed his clothes on the bed. This one had puzzled him for a while, she reminded him of someone from way back.

‘Where do you originate from, peasant?’ he suddenly snapped.

Startled, she dropped his shirt on the floor.

‘Clumsy. Repress it.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Quickly, she picked the shirt up and hurried into the small utility room.

‘Come back.’

She appeared in the doorway a second later, shirt still in hand, a terrified look on her face.

‘You have not answered my question.’

She swallowed hard. ‘From, from Newcastle, sir.’

‘Newcastle?’ He had memories of Newcastle. ’Newcastle in the northeast of England?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did you know the girl who escaped?’

‘Not really, sir.’

Tarasov stared at her, but he wasn’t really listening. His mind had wandered off to a woman he had once loved. The only woman he had ever loved. Not his wife, Juliana - that had only been a marriage of convenience, with one of the families. She had given birth to his two legal children, then conveniently died.

 No, this woman had somehow found her way into his heart as no other person ever had. Then, shortly after giving birth to the outbreed Mike Yorke, she had disappeared. No matter how hard he’d tried, with every resource on earth, he had never found her. Could this girl somehow be related to her?

She comes from the same city.

‘Your parents, you know both?’

She nodded.

‘Speak, girl. Tell me about them.’

His heart had dipped for a moment when she’d indicated that she had both parents, but that meant absolutely nothing. She could have been adopted.

‘Are they your real parents?’

She nodded again.

‘Speak, girl, or I’ll have you beaten.’

Quickly she replied, ‘They are both still alive.’

‘And living where?’

‘New…Newcastle.’ She stared wide-eyed at him. ‘Please don’t hurt them.’

‘Are you adopted?’

She shook her head.

‘Is that no, you’re not, or no, you don’t know?’

‘I’m not…Please don’t hurt them.’

‘I have no intentions of doing so.’ He waved his hand at her. 'Get on with your work.’

He filled a glass with brandy, and sat down on a brown leather chair facing a huge TV screen. It was early, even by his standards, for alcohol, but he didn’t intend on socialising where he would have to keep his wits about him. His intentions were to dwell on the past and a certain woman, and how she had managed to remain hidden from him for all these years.

It had been hot that day, all those years ago, a day much like today, when she’d disappeared into thin air on a trip to the north of England. He had not known she’d been pregnant at the time. It wasn’t until the child had been in his twenties that, through a regular blood test that one of the family doctors had been carrying out, Mike Yorke had come to his notice.

But she had been the one who had changed him, the one person that had made him see that the way of the families was wrong. It had been easy to keep the pretence up, though once or twice he had nearly slipped up and had received a few strange looks from family members. It had only been recently that he’d been able to get his point across that the way was wrong.

He had instigated the change, and knew a few others thought the same as him. Definitely others down the centuries had thought the same, also. Ten years ago, the inner wheel of agents had been formed. So far they had managed to foil a few assassinations, which would have led to a lot more wars going on around the world. Plus his money, and that of a few others, were keeping solvent the safe houses scattered around the world.

He sipped from his glass, taking a moment to savour the fine old brandy. The wretched girl had certainly reminded him of Melissa. Same beautiful eyes, same face structure - though Melissa had never been cowed. Melissa had an air about her that screamed, 'Enjoy me while you can, ‘cos I’m not stopping long.'

He smiled. She hadn’t stopped long either, one beautiful summer and she had escaped.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Mike narrowed his eyes as the bedroom door opened and a small fair-haired woman, he guessed somewhere in her early twenties, slipped in.

Not another relative, he thought.

Ella quickly reached his bedside. ‘Mike Yorke?’

‘Yes, that’s me. But I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.’