The Book of Daniel (2 page)

“I already told you, I can’t just conjure up a particular parcel from amongst all this lot. I don’t have access to the tracking database. I’m just the security guard.”

“Evidently not a very good one, considering how easy it was for us to get in here. But I’m not here to give you a job appraisal. I’ve already told you what I want. If you want to play it the hard way, it’s your funeral, or will be. Chris?” Sam motioned to the guy on his left.

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Do the honours, will you?”

“With pleasure.”

The bat connected with George’s left knee with a heavy crunch, and he collapsed to the concrete floor like a tattooed sack of potatoes. “Jesus, that hurts!” he yelled, and although I didn’t doubt for a second that it did, the dramatic wailing and shouting that followed was unlike the George I knew, if I believed even half the stories he told about his Navy days. Then I realised what he was doing: the cunning bastard was making damn sure I knew that all was not well at this end of the warehouse. My mind raced, weighing up various options and looking for a strategy that I could use to try to rescue George, or at least get to the shed and trigger the alarm button that would summon the cavalry.

Sam laughed heartily and heartlessly at George’s discomfort. “Ouch. And that’s just for starters, mate. Look, why don’t you make it easy on yourself and just tell us where it is, eh?”

“For fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know!” George flung at him from between gritted teeth.

Sam shrugged. “Have it your way.” He motioned to the guy with the hockey stick. “Charlie, your turn. But remember,” he emphasised, “we need him able to talk, so nothing too savage—at least, not yet.” I couldn’t see his mouth through his mask, but I could hear the wolfish grin in his voice.

While these pleasantries were being exchanged, I had put together and discarded a number of plans, but as Charlie took a step forward, I knew that the time for thinking was over. Before he had a chance to do anything to George, I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and lobbed it up against the warehouse wall behind a nearby pile of boxes. A hollow thud filled the air, followed by a slap as the wallet hit the floor, followed by various expletives from the intruders as they turned towards the disturbance. I was pleased to see the guy with the baseball bat almost drop it. Maybe our visitors weren’t as competent as Sam was making them out to be.

Sam quickly marshalled his troops to face the new threat. “Chris, follow me. Charlie, you go round that way. Dave, you stay and watch the Sugar Plum Fairy here.”

The three men crept towards the decoy, readying their weapons. Dave, the second gunman, stayed put, but although he was careful enough to keep his distance from George, he had his back to me and was paying too much attention to the others’ investigations for his own good. One punch was all it took, and Dave slumped silently to the ground. I had expected to hear the sound of his gun hitting the floor, a sound that would have summoned the others back from behind the boxes like a drop of blood in the sea brings sharks. When I looked down for an explanation for the silence, I was met with a wink from George, his arm stretched out and the gun grasped in his hand. I crouched down next to him.

“Good catch, mate. How’s your leg?” I whispered.

“Let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be doing any aerobics for a while.”

“No comment. Do you think you can walk?”

“Not quickly or quietly enough to get out of here before those fuckers come back. It’s not that big a pile of boxes for three of them to search.” He cast a meaningful look in the direction of the disembodied shuffling sounds. “I think we stand more of a chance trying to finish them off, to be honest, especially if they’re as dopey as this muppet.”

“What about the alarm?”

“No good, I tried it earlier; they must have cut the circuit before they came in. The phone’s out, too; not that I would have had much time to say anything anyway. They were quick, I’ll give them that. And they definitely mean business.” George nodded to a pair of petrol canisters standing near the warehouse door.

We were interrupted by the sound of Sam’s voice yelling out theatrically. “Hmm, what have we here? A wallet! Belonging to… a Mr Daniel Stein of 91 Highfield Road. Anyone out there with that name missing a wallet? A friend of the security guard we’ve got down here, maybe? Sorry, I didn’t catch his name, but I’m sure you know him: big fella, likes football, perhaps a bit too much for his own good. Problem is, he seems to have suffered one of those workplace-related injuries you hear so much about on the TV these days, and it looks like he might have a few more before too much longer. The good news is, though, that you can help him out. All you need to do is bring us a parcel that we’ve come to collect. Simple as that, that’s all we want. Once we’ve got it, I’ll happily give you both your wallet and your friend back, and leave you all in peace. Oh, and don’t go getting any ideas about trying to use your mobile to call for help; we’ve got one of those nifty little jamming boxes set up outside in the van.”

I didn’t believe for a moment that he was going to let us go in peace, of course, but his monologue had provided enough cover for me to lift Dave’s body up onto my shoulders and carry it behind another pile of boxes. I quickly commandeered his black leather jacket and mask. Not the greatest fit in the world, but I was pretty sure that I’d pass a cursory inspection, and if everything went according to plan, that would be enough to get George and me out of this situation in one piece. Sam continued to address the wrong part of the warehouse as I took up the position that Dave had previously occupied, standing in the shadows, hoping that the darkness would give my disguise more of a chance to work.

“Come on, Mr Stein, there’s no need to be shy. Or do you need us to help bring you out of your shell a bit?”

Sam and his pals reappeared back from where I had thrown my wallet, and strode purposefully towards where George and I were waiting. I held my breath as they drew closer, but because their attention was still mainly directed towards the shadows of the warehouse, my plan seemed to be working. For all their bravado, the stolen looks they cast over their shoulders told a different story; of the three of them, only Sam seemed easily able to focus his attention back on the task in hand.

“Why is everyone so determined to do this the hard way?” He sighed heavily. “Right, fatso. I’m afraid you need to help us tempt Mr Stein out into the open before he tries to do something stupid like sneaking out of the building and going for help. So Dave here is going to shoot you in the hand, which will be a nice noisy way of letting your mate know that we are not fucking about. Maybe it’ll even jog your memory a bit more, eh? Nothing personal, you understand, but we
are
going to get that parcel, and we’re not getting paid by the hour. Dave?”

My heart racing, I took a couple of steps forwards, the gun aimed at George. “Dan!” he shouted out. “Dan, these bastards mean business! For God’s sake, get up here now! They’re going to shoot me!” You could almost mistake the sparkle in his eyes for fear. I think part of him was actually enjoying this mess.

Sam’s eyes began to narrow, and I could see he wasn’t quite convinced by George’s sudden switch from uncooperative resistance to craven submission; but before he could finish puzzling it out, I brought the gun up and pointed it at his chest. “Drop the gun, mate, and tell your boys here not to try anything funny. I know how to use this thing. You two, lose the sticks.”

Sam’s henchmen exchanged looks with their boss, who slowly nodded his acquiescence and dropped his gun to the floor. “Okay lads, do as he says. Mr Stein, I presume? Crafty bugger, aren’t you? What have you done with Dave?”

“He’s having a bit of a lie down over there. I think he’s had one of those workplace-related injuries you were talking about just a minute ago. Now shut up.”

George armed himself with Sam’s gun and rose unsteadily to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. “What now, Action Man?”

“I think it’s time to call for some reinforcements. Have you got your mobile with you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not working. Guess these chumps must be telling the truth about that jamming device.”

“Maybe. But I’ve got my phone out in the car. If you hold Sam and his friends here in check, I’ll go out and see if I have any more luck down that end of the car park. Then I can call for the police,” I said. “Oh, and an ambulance,” I added.

“You’re a true gent, Dan. You want to send for a pizza, too, while you’re at it?”

“That won’t do any good,” I said, waving the gun dismissively at our captives. “It looks like all the pizza delivery boys are already spoken for.”

“Fuck you,” barked Sam.

“Shhhh. Quiet, I said.” Now that it had served its purpose, I took off Dave’s mask, not wishing to feel like a gangster any longer than I had to. “Maybe when I get back we can unmask the rest of our party guests and see if we can find out what’s so important about this bloody parcel they keep banging on about.”

I ducked out through the warehouse door and into the downpour that was waiting outside. I ran over to my car, but this time it was more than just the weather that made me hurry. Despite the fact that we had subdued our unwelcome guests, there was still something not quite right about the situation in the warehouse. Sam seemed far too quick to give up, especially considering how determined he and his gang had been to get their hands on that parcel, whatever it was. The more I thought about it, the less I liked it, and by the time I reached my car, I was having serious doubts about the wisdom of having left George back there on his own.

I wasted no time in unlocking the car and grabbing the phone from its home in the glove compartment. That’s pretty much where it always lived; when you keep to yourself as much as I did, you don’t need a mobile phone, and I only had one in the car in case of emergencies—although I was expecting something more along the lines of getting a flat tyre on the motorway, rather than a bunch of psychos raiding my workplace.

Sam’s jamming gizmo didn’t seem to reach as far as where I had parked my car, and I quickly dialled through to the police and gave the emergency dispatcher an outline of what had transpired. All George and I had to do was sit tight for fifteen minutes, and the cavalry would arrive to take care of the rest.

That was about half an hour before I found myself speeding home on the most terrifying drive of my life.

Chapter 2

I
ended the call, slipped the phone into my pocket and hurried back over to the warehouse. But the instant I stepped inside again, everything changed. My eyes barely had time to register George’s body lying sprawled, mangled and bloody on the ground before I was grabbed roughly by the arms. A fist came shooting out of nowhere, hitting me sharply on the chin and sending my gun tumbling to the floor. My head rocked back, and when it came forward again, the face of a demon awaited: a squat lump of a head, shaved clear of hair; eyes lurking in their sockets like a mugger’s knife; a nose that looked like it had been chewed up, spat out and ground under the heel of someone’s boot for good measure; and all underscored by a malign grin full of crooked teeth. From the height of the owner, I surmised that this must be Sam. He looked better with the mask on.

“Hello, handsome,” he breathed on me. “Nice of you to join us again. As you can see, we haven’t been idle while you’ve been away. It seems Dave here wasn’t quite as incapacitated as you thought, much to your friend’s surprise.” He paused to look meaningfully over his shoulder at George. “Perhaps you’ll be more cooperative, if you want to avoid sharing his fate. And because I assume you’ve just phoned the police, it looks like we’ll need to skip the pleasantries and get straight down to business.”

Sam punctuated “business” with another solid blow, this time to my gut, knocking the wind out of me. I struggled for breath, but there was nothing wrong with my mind. “You don’t… need to worry… about the police,” I managed. “Couldn’t get a… signal.”

“Aww, that’s too bad, assuming you’re not lying through your teeth. It doesn’t change anything, though,” he said, picking the gun up off the floor, “because I’m running out of patience with all this shit. So, for the last time: where’s my fucking parcel?”

I finished coughing the effects of Sam’s punch out of my system. “I don’t know what parcel you’re talking about, and even if I did, why would I tell you where to find it? After what you’ve done to George, why the fuck should I do you any favours?”

The grin faltered for a moment, then returned, like a dark sun reappearing from behind a cloud. “Because if we don’t get what we want,” he said, holding up one of the photos of Jo that I kept in my wallet, “we might have to swing by your home, Mr Stein, and vent a little frustration there. Know what I mean?”

The rage boiled up inside of me like a hot spring, and with a roar, I tried to channel my anger into a desperate lunge towards Sam. For a moment it looked like I was going to make it, but even my fury wasn’t enough to overpower three men. They ploughed me over into the wall of the shed, and held me there as I tried to buck free of their grip.

“Whoa! Calm down, calm down! No need to get so excited. I’ve got nothing personal against you or your missus. This is purely business; we came here to do a job, and unfortunately things have got a little complicated. But once we’ve got what we came for, that’s it. We’ve got no reason to take any further action. Your wife, she’s just… leverage.” He savoured the word for a moment before drawing close to my face again. “Trust me.”

Unbidden, an image of the serpent in the Garden of Eden came to my mind, but even though my every instinct screamed not to trust this bastard, I knew that I had no choice. There was no way I would be able to regain control of the situation. It was probably already too late for poor George. And I couldn’t care less about whatever was in the parcel Sam was after. I was, most likely, staring death in the face—and smelling its nicotine-tainted breath—but all that mattered was that I could see a way to make sure Jo was safe.