The Savages (17 page)

‘Oh,' he croaked finally, and breathed in once again. ‘For real?'

Amanda Dias nodded, not releasing him from her gaze for a moment.

‘For me, it would come down to ethics,' she said. ‘Which animal, the lamb or the human, has caused more misery, murder and suffering in this world?'

‘The human,' said Jack, who was beginning to feel the need for some fresh air. ‘Naturally.'

‘Then there is your answer,' she said, and presented him with the invisible plate he had selected. ‘Enjoy!'

For a moment, Jack wondered if she expected him to pretend to eat it. He regarded the empty space where the plate was supposed to be. ‘What does braised mean?'

A grin eased across Amanda's face.

‘I'm thinking you wouldn't, right?'

Jack sat back, feeling hot and ready for a glass of water.

‘I don't … I don't know,' he said, faltering once more, and that's when a figure passed the window that commanded his full attention.

‘Ivan!' he said out loud, relieved at first that he had found a way out of the conversation. Then Jack considered just how bad this looked from the street, and called out to him more urgently, ‘Hey,
wait a minute
!'

Ivan Savage rarely experienced fear. He had seen it in the eyes of many people, of course, and not just the victims of his pranks. His father hated to witness it in those they intended to consume. It was inevitable that they'd freak out when it became apparent why they were in the house and what the family had in mind. Even so, it was important that they kept such suffering to a minimum. It only provoked a rush of adrenalin in their victims, and a hormonal release like that just risked spoiling the flavour of the meat.

It was this thought, no matter how misplaced, that dogged Ivan's thoughts as he hurried past the pizza restaurant. He checked for the van once more. It had pulled in some distance behind, as if the driver was waiting for the moment to snatch him from the streets. Ivan's mouth was dry and his throat felt tight when he swallowed. It was one of the diners on the other side of the glass that caught his eye, but Ivan didn't register that it was Jack until the young man rushed from his table to the door.

‘It's not what it seems!' Jack called out to him, with both hands raised as if to calm the boy. ‘Amanda is a friend.'

Ivan blinked and glanced back inside at the girl he had left at the table. Then he focused on the van before addressing Jack.

‘Help me,' he said, much to Jack's surprise. ‘Is your car nearby?'

‘Sure,' said Jack, sounding as disarmed as he looked. ‘It's parked around the back.'

Ivan gestured at the van.

‘There's a man over there. I think he wants to interfere with me.'

‘What?' Jack wheeled around, saw the van, and then glanced back, looking a little wary. ‘Shouldn't we call the police or something?'

‘Take me home, Jack.'

Jack considered the request for a moment. He looked torn.

‘But my date … my lunch date.'

This time, Ivan's eyes narrowed before returning to the girl, who had just finished her last slice of pizza. Amanda regarded him for less than a second, before helping herself to a slice from Jack's plate.

‘Aren't you hungry?' asked Ivan.

‘Not any more,' said Jack, who had just worked out a way to buy the boy's silence. ‘Listen, if I drive you home will you forget you saw me here? It never happened, right?'

Ivan didn't even look in Amanda's direction.

‘Let's go,' he said.

Sasha Savage had returned from school feeling ravenous.

It was a feeling she had become used to in recent weeks. Being vegetarian wasn't easy. Sacrifices had to be made. Not only did she have to plan each meal, and carefully keep it from her father, she found that she needed to eat little and often to make it through each day. And yet despite it all, as the end of her month without meat approached, Sasha was feeling good about herself. Better than ever, in fact. She could see it in her skin, just as Jack had promised. It was supple and elastic, while her eyes were clear and sparkling. What's more, as she hung her coat up in the hallway, she found that she had actually developed a taste for a meat-free diet.

‘Hello?' she called up the stairs. ‘Is anyone home?'

She waited for a response for a moment, and then smiled to herself. Without a doubt, her grandfather would be in his bedroom, but the house was as good as empty. Not only was he hard of hearing, he hadn't ventured downstairs in an age.

It meant Sasha was free to head for the kitchen and fix herself a tasty snack.

‘Let's see,' she said to herself, crouching in front of the fridge, and began to extract items one by one. ‘Tofu is good, cucumber, some mint, yoghurt and a pita pouch.'

The tofu block and the pita came from the lowest shelf, hidden at the back behind a ham. It was her mother who placed it all there for her. She had been so kind and understanding about everything. Sasha knew she disapproved, but that hadn't stopped her from helping her daughter keep her food choices a secret from Titus. Laying a chopping board on the surface, Sasha found a knife and pierced the pita bread. Carefully, she drew the blade down, opening up the pouch. It reminded her of those times her father had asked her to help in getting ready for a feast. Over the years, with a corpse laid out on the kitchen table, she had learned to extract everything from top to toe and prepare it accordingly. Using her fingers, Sasha eased the pocket open, just as she would as if preparing to stuff a neck cutlet with herbs, butter and garlic. She had just reached for a teaspoon for the hummus when a shriek from close behind caused her to drop it to the floor.

‘What the …
Katya
!' Her younger sister was sitting at the doorway. She gurgled happily, before crawling across the kitchen to greet her. ‘You startled me,' said Sasha, and plucked her from the floor. ‘What are you doing here on your own? Anything could've happened to you! Are you OK?'

‘
Mince!
'

The toddler responded by reaching out for the tofu. Sasha turned, but was too late to stop Kat from grabbing it.

‘That's not mince,' chuckled Sasha, and leaned away to avoid getting smeared. Katya waved the block in the air, before taking a bite from the corner. ‘I'm not sure you'll like that … oh! So, you
do
like that!'

Turning to more important matters, she carried her little sister into the hallway and called out for her grandfather one more time. Again, Sasha received no answer, but this time she took to the staircase. With nobody on the first floor, she continued around to the second flight. Music floated down from the room at the top. It was a mournful orchestral, most likely Russian, which she knew reminded him of many things. Sure enough, she found him under the skylight, facing a black and white photograph of old Leningrad, with his head tipped back as he quietly conducted to himself.

‘Grandpa,' she said softly, so as not to take him by surprise. When that failed to work, she crossed the room to turn the volume down. As soon as she did so, he dropped his arms and opened his eyes. Sasha tried to look calm and collected for him. ‘Grandpa, is Katya supposed to be in your care?'

‘Of course, he said, smiling at his youngest grandchild. ‘We were just enjoying some music together.'

‘She was downstairs,' said Sasha cautiously. ‘She must've got there all on her own.'

At first, Oleg seemed not to hear her. He stroked Kat's cheek, and watched her gnawing on something in her hand.

‘So, maybe she was hungry,' he said eventually. ‘Sure looks like she can prepare herself a snack.'

‘I gave it to her,' said Sasha. ‘Grandpa, she's too young to be left alone on the stairs. Anything could've happened!'

This time, after a moment to register what she'd just told him, Oleg bowed his head and nodded.

‘I didn't hear her go,' he said, toying with his beard. ‘Your mother asked me to watch her for an hour. Maybe that isn't such a good idea any more.'

Sasha placed her free hand on his shoulder.

‘Kat didn't come to any harm,' she said. ‘She's happy now.'

Oleg glanced up. As he did so, the toddler waved what was left of the tofu block at him.

‘What is that?' he asked, and took it from her. ‘Should she be eating this? Should anyone?'

‘Let me get rid of that for you,' Sasha said hurriedly, and reached out to take it from him.

Oleg responded by drawing his hand from her reach. He held it close to his nose, before taking a very slight nibble.

‘It's a bean curd,' he said, grimacing slightly. ‘A meat substitute.'

A sense of unease began to rise in Sasha. She looked at Katya, as if hoping the toddler might provide her with an explanation, and then back at her grandfather. He didn't look upset, however. Just puzzled and even curious. All manner of excuses jumped into Sasha's head, but somehow nothing seemed to fit. It just felt wrong to lie to a man of his years. She only had to look in his eyes to know that he was awaiting the truth. With her heart stirring, Sasha took a breath and heard her own voice break the silence.

‘I like the taste,' she said. ‘Actually, I like it a lot.'

Jack Greenway held the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He glanced in the rear view mirror and cursed.

‘The van's still with us,' he muttered, and shifted up a gear. ‘What would anyone want with a kid like you?'

Ivan sat in the passenger seat, his sightline just higher than the dashboard.

‘I'm twelve years old,' he said. ‘For some men, that makes me kind of hot.'

Jack glanced at his passenger and frowned.

‘So, what do you suggest?' he asked. ‘Every turn I take, he's right there behind us. If I take you home, he'll know where you live.'

‘How about we go to your place?'

‘Then he'll know where
I
live!' Jack swung left without indicating. ‘It's you he wants, Ivan. I'm just doing you a favour here.'

‘No,' said Ivan to correct him. ‘I'm helping you out by keeping quiet about your lunch date.'

Jack grimaced to himself.

‘It isn't what you think,' he said.

‘What am I thinking?' asked Ivan, staring straight ahead.

‘You know. That somehow I'm cheating on your sister by sharing a pizza with a friend.'

‘A friend.' Ivan smiled to himself. ‘Right.'

Jack checked the rear view mirror once again.

‘Do we have to discuss it now?' he asked. ‘Isn't it more important that we lose this guy? Let's not forget that I could've just kept my head down when you walked passed. Had I ignored you, chances are right now you'd be at the foot of a pit in that man's cellar in the dress he'd ordered you to wear.'

‘Let me try my dad again,' said Ivan, and pulled out his mobile. ‘He makes mincemeat out of creeps like this.'

Jack concentrated on driving while Ivan made the call. Once again, however, the line went to answer machine. Up ahead, a set of traffic lights turned from green to amber.

‘We're not going to make it,' muttered Jack.

‘Then put your foot down!' Ivan urged. ‘It's our big chance!'

The hybrid could pack a punch. Jack knew that. He was also well aware that jumping lights could lead to a car wreck, not to mention points on his licence and the very real possibility that his father would refuse to pay the increase in insurance. So, rather than floor the accelerator pedal, he coasted to a halt as the lights switched to red. The engine cut out automatically, which left the pair sitting in tense silence.

‘The van is three cars back,' Jack whispered, as if fearing he might be overheard. He reached for the mirror, turning it slightly for a better look. ‘OK, so now the driver's door has just opened. The guy is getting out.' He stopped there and faced Ivan. The boy looked as terrified as he felt.

‘Do something,' said Ivan.

‘Like what?' Jack's voice rose in pitch.

‘Sacrifice yourself.' Tightening his eyes into a penetrating stare, Ivan held his phone between them. ‘Sacrifice yourself or the next call goes to my sister.'

Earlier, while waiting for the boy to leave the school grounds, Vernon English had bought himself lunch. Parked in the high street, he'd been spoiled for choice. A club sandwich had been tempting, along with a flapjack and a bottle of real lemonade, but with a long afternoon ahead he'd opted for something more filling.

The steak and ale pasty had just come out of the oven. There was no way Vernon could've eaten the thing until it cooled considerably, and so he had placed it on the passenger seat. The van had quickly filled with an aroma that made his mouth water. He reached for the wrapper a couple of times, only to pull away on feeling the volcanic heat through his fingertips.

‘I wanted something to eat,' he grumbled at one point. ‘Not a sample of the earth's core.'

By the time the private investigator sighted Ivan, and started the engine to trail him, his pasty remained untouched. His plan was to stay with the boy just to see where it led him. If the Savage children were involved in the death of the model, he had decided, then surely they would be struggling. Their parents might've been able to play things coolly, as if nothing had happened, but it was different for kids. At that age, you'd have to tell someone. You just couldn't live without that kind of thing in your head. It would spill out at some point. Vernon felt pretty confident as he pulled out after Ivan. The kid was the key to all this, he felt sure. He had been in the house on the day of the shoot, unlike his older sister, which made him Vernon's primary person of interest.

That the boy quickly realised he was being followed came as no surprise to the private investigator.

‘You're bound to be paranoid,' said Vernon, who had seen it all before. ‘It's what happens when you carry around a guilty secret.'