Only the Good Die Young (16 page)

Chapter 21

Shirley was squashed in the cupboard with her mother.

‘Why has he locked us in here?’ said her mother.

‘The police are coming,’ said Shirley.

‘Why are you whispering?’ said her mother.

‘I don’t know. Perhaps we should shout, let them know we’re here,’ said Shirley.

Shirley stomped on the floor. Her mother battered the walls with her fists.

‘Help!’ they called.

‘Top floor!’ shouted Shirley.

‘In the cupboard!’ shouted her mother.

Somehow that made them laugh. They laughed with tears falling fast. There was hope then. Hope that they would be rescued.

‘Sergeant Palmer is in the house,’ laughed Shirley.

Their laughter subsided when no one came.

‘What is going on?’ asked her mother. ‘Where’s this police force of yours?’

‘It’s not my fault,’ said Shirley.

‘You think I would have been home with your grandmother now if you’d chosen a sensible career?’

‘Mum, please don’t. Most parents are happy their kids are police officers. It’s stable, with a pension.’

‘Stable? You won’t live to collect your pension,’ said her mother. ‘It’s silliness. If we get out of here alive, I want you to quit. I want you to get a normal job.’

‘I’m not qualified to do anything else,’ said Shirley.

‘Go to college. Get a decent education. There’s ways.’

‘Mum, let’s not argue. It’s the other police I’m annoyed with. Where are they? Can you hear anything?’

They stood in silence. There was no sound. No sound of breaking doors, of policemen’s feet, of arrests. No sound except their own breathing.

‘I don’t think your police were ever here!’ said her mother.

‘They would have come in. I think Richie was mistaken.’

Shirley stood there, taking in the idea that Richie would soon be back.

‘We need a plan. We need to do this on our own. There must be a way,’ she said.

Her mother moaned.

‘We’ll die either way,’ she said. ‘Your father will be left all alone. Who will cook for him? How will he survive?’

‘Let’s work on the assumption that we can escape,’ said Shirley. ‘If we did, how would we do it?’

Shirley’s mother pushed at the door.

‘It’s locked but not with a key,’ she said. ‘We would need something metal to turn it.’

Shirley turned her back to the door. She held back her arms.

‘Can we use the handcuffs at all? The metal of them?’ said Shirley.

Her mother took her by the wrists. The pain shot through her. They were so tight. She needed to get to a police station to get them off. She gritted her teeth as her mother jerked her hands this way and that way trying to use the metal bits.

‘Nearly there,’ said her mother.

Shirley felt herself relax a little, then she tensed up again at the pain. She felt faint and bit her lip to keep herself from passing out.

‘There,’ said her mother.

Shirley heard a click and turned around. There was a little gap.

‘Push it,’ said Shirley.

‘It’s stuck. There’s some kind of string tied around it.’

‘Oh great,’ said Shirley.

‘We could try to cut it with the handcuffs?’ said her mother.

Shirley put her head against the metal of the filing cupboard.

‘OK, Mum,’ she said. ‘Try not to pull my wrists too much.’

She gritted her teeth.

She felt the rub of the string, tearing through the skin of her hands. She tried not to scream but winced with each rub.

‘It’s working,’ said her mother.

‘Be quick,’ said Shirley.

Her mother rubbed the string faster and Shirley stamped the heel of her foot on the bottom of the cupboard.

‘Thank you God,’ said her mother.

A string was loose and then it all came tumbling off.

‘We’re free,’ said her mother.

‘Shush,’ said Shirley. ‘We don’t know where he is. We need to find a way to avoid him and get out of here.’

They stepped out of the cupboard on tiptoe. Shirley looked round the room. He wasn’t there and she breathed a little deeper.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘We need to get to a lower floor. We need to find the window he uses.’

Shirley’s mother was feeling around in the other cupboards.

‘Come,’ said Shirley.

Shirley’s mother came over.

‘I found a pen,’ she said. ‘No other weapons. It’ll have to do.’

Shirley crept to the door and listened. She couldn’t hear Richie. She beckoned her mother. They walked along to the stairs. Shirley felt her balance go on the first step. Her hands were behind her back. She felt her mother grab onto her. She balanced herself. She took the second stair.

They walked slowly down to the first floor. Shirley set off to look in all the rooms. She tried the windows. Her mother got out the pen. She used the clip to try the bolts but it wouldn’t turn.

Shirley wondered how Richie got in. He must have some good tools. He must have a way in.

‘Wait until he goes to find us and we’ll go down and find his way in,’ she whispered.

Her mother nodded.

She was glad her mother was such a strong woman. She might have wilted by now but hadn’t. She wanted to hug her. She felt trapped with her hands tied.

‘We’re going to do this, Mama,’ she said. ‘We’re going to get out of here.’

They heard a sound and stood still. They hid behind the door.

Richie was making his way up the stairs.

Shirley prayed he wouldn’t come in the room. She heard his footsteps grow harder, louder. Then they faded away, echoing down the stairs.

‘He’s gone. We need to be fast. He’ll discover we’re gone soon,’ she said.

They hurried down the stairs. The metal on the front door was soldered on. No escape there. They looked round the ground floor windows for Richie’s way in.

‘This one!’ said her mother.

Shirley came over to the window. It had signs of being opened and bolted back on.

‘It’s bolted,’ said Shirley.

Shirley’s mother got out the pen and tried to move the bolts.

‘They’re moving,’ she said.

Shirley held her breath. Her mother unscrewed the bottom left screw. It fell and jangled on the ground. They looked at each other.

She heard a noise coming from up the stairs.

‘Where are you?’ she heard.

‘Quick,’ she said.

‘I can’t reach the top ones Shirley. I need something to climb on.’

Shirley looked around. She heard thumping footsteps on the stairs.

‘We need to hide,’ she said.

They ran to a corner and hid behind an upturned table.

‘Where the pissing shit are you!’ called Richie.

‘He’s going to look at the window,’ said Shirley. ‘We need to get out of this room.’

They crept round the sides of the room. Shirley looked round the doorway. If she could get to the room they were in beforehand, she could find his tools.

‘Mum,’ she said. ‘Hold onto my hands.’

She stooped over and her mother held on. They rushed across the doorway, down the corridor and into the room they had been tortured in.

‘I hear you!’ said Richie.

He ran to the room with the escape window.

Shirley’s mum hunted round for his tools. She put a handle in Shirley’s hands.

‘What’s that?’ she said.

‘Chisel,’ said her mother. ‘I’ve got screwdrivers too, for the window.’

They heard footsteps coming closer.

Shirley’s mother held the screwdriver in front of her. The footsteps grew closer, and he stood, in the doorway, holding his knife.

‘Aha,’ he said. ‘Here you both are. I suppose you’ve discovered there’s no escape.’

Shirley’s mother ran at him with the screwdriver. She attacked the arm with the knife. He screamed. He held his arm with his other hand. He didn’t drop the knife. He turned to face Shirley’s mother. Shirley ran at him. She used all her body force to knock him to the ground.

‘Run, Mum,’ she said.

‘I’m not leaving you my girl,’ said her mother.

There was nothing else for it. Shirley ran with her. They ran together to the window. The screwdriver was gone. Shirley’s mother took the chisel and tried the window. It wasn’t budging and Richie was getting up.

‘We need to hide,’ said Shirley.

They ran up the stairs and in and out of the rooms. In a room on the second floor they found a large wooden wardrobe in an alcove.

Shirley ran to it and hurried her mother in with a nod of her head. They pushed it aside and slipped in behind it, and then with all their might –

Shirley using her heavy boots at its feet – dragging the heavy piece of furniture back towards them.

They stood still in the darkness, trapped. They could hear him calling them. His voice was getting nearer.

Shirley felt impotent with her hands behind her back. It should be her with the chisel. She was trained in this. Her poor mother had worked in safety all her life. She didn’t know how to kill if she needed to. Shirley recalled her self-defence classes. She thought she had a plan.

‘Put the chisel somewhere safe,’ she said. ‘We’ll need it for the window. When I say one, two, three, do what I do.’

‘OK,’ said her mother.

She put the chisel in her pocket.

She saw the light of the torch, from the gap of the seam, at the bottom of the cupboard.

‘One, two, three,’ she said.

She leant against the side. Her mother did the same. In unison they pushed and the wardrobe crashed down.

They heard a blood-curdling, frustrated cry from Richie.

‘He’s trapped,’ said Shirley. ‘I’ll sit here pushing down on him. Will you get out and stab him? Can you do that?’

Her mother opened the door with the chisel. She crawled out.

Shirley heard Richie cry out.

‘Great!’ she said.

She got out of the cupboard expecting him dead.

‘Mum!’ she cried.

Her mother had stabbed his arm.

‘His face, his heart, his neck, not his arm,’ she said. ‘Quick!’

Her mother went to stab him but it was too late. He pushed the cupboard off with one arm. It was lightweight.

‘Jesus, Mum,’ said Shirley.

He stood up.

‘Get him,’ said Shirley.

Her mother ran at him, stabbed him in the leg, ran away again.

‘Good,’ said Shirley. ‘Again.’

He walked, limping towards her mother. Shirley could not see it happen. The chisel was stuck in his leg. He pulled it out. Blood ran down his leg. He held it up towards her mother.

Shirley ran towards him from the side and head-butted him. He fell to the ground. Shirley fell too. She had whacked him and it hurt. She wanted to hold her forehead but couldn’t.

‘Quick,’ said her mother.

Her mother came towards her, came to save her, but Richie grabbed her first. He held her round the neck as if he might strangle her.

This is it, thought Shirley. The end.

He dug in his palms to her throat and she choked. Her mother pleaded with him.

‘Don’t hurt her, don’t hurt her,’ she cried.

But Shirley heard something. They all heard it. The sound of a drill.

Shirley felt Richie jump. She felt his fear, his anger.

‘Let me go,’ she said through her sore throat.

They heard a crashing noise. The shutters were open.

‘Police!’ came a cry.

It was Dave. It was definitely Dave. Shirley felt tears come. If he killed her now, at least her mother would be saved.

‘Run!’ she said to her mother.

‘I’m not leaving you,’ she said.

She felt Richie’s grip relax. He seemed jumpy.

‘I don’t want to die here,’ he said.

‘We’re here!’ cried Shirley.

‘Hello!’ called her mother. ‘Please, help us!’

Richie tightened his grip again. Shirley tried to cough. She couldn’t.

‘Please!’ cried her mother. ‘Quick! My daughter! Help her!’

They heard footsteps coming their way.

Richie tightened his grip some more.

‘The good die young,’ he said. ‘But when I’m here, the bad die young too.’

Shirley saw her mother rush to the door. She felt her lungs were going to explode.

Chapter 22

Dave had his army handgun at the ready.

‘You won’t get me,’ said the voice in his head.

He ignored it. This was not the time for hunches. He had to find Shirley fast. Geoff was hiding behind him with the torch.

‘Are you sure about this?’ he said.

They heard Shirley’s voice call.

‘OK,’ said Geoff. ‘We can’t wait.’

They heard another voice call, a woman. Dave listened to it and headed towards it.

The voices in his head took this opportunity to start shouting at him. He needed to concentrate on the outside world. Every time they spoke he repeated in his head, ‘Just voices, just voices.’

He could hear that the hostages were near now.

‘Through that door,’ said Dave. ‘I’ll go first.’

He walked in the room. Geoff shone the torch and the hostages all blinked at the light.

‘Hands up or I shoot,’ said Dave.

Richie let go of Shirley. He put his hands up. Shirley fell to the ground, coughing. Dave could see she was handcuffed.

‘Uncuff her,’ he said to Geoff.

Geoff walked slowly towards her watching Richie for signs of movement. Richie was on his knees with his hands up, still very close to her.

‘Move towards me, Shirley,’ said Geoff.

She struggled on her knees towards him. Dave had less of a shot on Richie now. She was in the way. Richie knew it.

Richie darted across the room and hid behind a cupboard.

Shirley’s mother screamed.

‘He’s going to escape,’ she said.

‘I’m going to escape,’ said Richie in Dave’s head.

Dave was distracted by the voice.

‘No, you’re not,’ he said.

The telepathy seemed real now in the room with him. He was talking directly to Richie.

‘Give yourself up,’ he said in his head.

‘I will if you let me kill one more person,’ said Richie in his head.

‘I won’t let you kill anyone,’ said Dave in his head.

Richie picked up the cupboard, using it as a shield. He ran with it towards Dave. Dave fired but it was too late. Richie had knocked him over. His shot hit the ceiling. Richie pushed a surprised Geoff out of the way with force. He ran out of the door and down the stairs.

‘Dave you dick,’ said Shirley. ‘You were staring into space. Go after him, quick.’

Dave ran down the stairs. Geoff followed with the torch. He saw Richie go out of the front door, now open.

Shirley stood at the top of the stairs.

‘Where’s back up?’ she said.

Dave could tell she was angry. He radioed in to say Richie had escaped.

‘Told you I would escape,’ said Richie in his head.

‘Go after him,’ said the voice of Stephen.

Dave ran. He ran onto the street in time to see him turn the corner.

‘You’ll never get me,’ said the voice of Richie.

‘I will,’ said Dave.

He ran down the street and turned the corner. He could see Richie but the street was busy. He couldn’t fire here. He radioed his position.

‘Helicopters, Firearms Team, now!’ he said.

Dave ran and ran. He realised he was out of form. All that chilling out in the hotel hadn’t helped him. And he hadn’t eaten much either. He ran fast, shouting at people to get out of the way.

‘Police!’ he called. ‘Out of the way!’

Richie was running faster than him, but tripped over a pram wheel. He fell.

Dave had him. He knew it.

He knew he couldn’t shoot him dead. He wasn’t authorized. It would mean the end of his career, possession of the gun would be enough to explain on its own. He ran to catch up. Richie was up again.

He turned down a side street. Dave ran round the corner.

He turned the corner and held his gun.

He pointed it, but Richie dived into a car, pulled out a man and held him in front of him. The man struggled. Dave ran towards them.

‘Told you I’d kill again,’ said the voice of Richie.

Dave made the decision that Richie wasn’t going to kill again. He wouldn’t allow it.

‘Let the man go!’ he said aloud.

Richie let go of the man and got in the car.

‘I’ll kill again, you’ll see,’ said Richie in his head.

The car was reversing, the car was about to head off down the road. Dave had to act fast. He couldn’t let him get away this time.

‘Get back,’ he shouted to the man.

The man ran down the road.

Dave shot the wheels of the car. In six shots he hit three wheels.

‘Good work!’ said the voice of Stephen.

Richie tried to carry on but the one good wheel stopped him.

Dave’s radio went.

‘I’ve turned down a side street. He’s in a car. I shot the wheels. Where are you?’

As he said it, a helicopter came overhead. He could hear sirens on their way. He ran to the car. He held his gun out into Richie’s face.

‘Hands up!’ he said.

‘Kill me,’ said Richie.

‘No!’ said Dave.

‘Kill me!’ screamed Richie in his head.

It was so loud it hurt. He wanted to hold his head but he was trying at the same time to focus on Richie, to focus on ensuring he didn’t escape.

‘Richie,’ he said aloud. ‘Can you hear my thoughts?’

Richie looked at him with a puzzled expression.

‘Richie I need to know,’ he said. ‘Are we connected by telepathy.’

‘You’re mad,’ said Richie. ‘I knew it. I knew it in the hideout. You went mad.’

The sirens grew closer. Dave kept Richie at gunpoint.