Thorn In My Side (25 page)

He stroked her
hair, each movement with gentle practised ease. 'Pretty.'

Her eyes
bulging in fear, Cassie shivered under his touch. He laughed.
'Frightened little bird.'

'Get off me,'
she managed to shout bravely, as she shook her head to get rid of
his hand. He only laughed louder, his voice filling the room.

It was then she
saw Maria. 'You!' she gasped. 'What have you done? Take me home. I
want to go home right now. I want my mum.' She stamped her feet,
only to have her right ankle kicked viciously by Tobacco
Breath.

'You won’t ever
see your mum again, little bird.' The Leader's voice mocked her
before he turned to Maria. 'Not the one I wanted, but she’ll do.
Put her to work.' He touched Cassie’s hair again. 'Bring her to me
tomorrow night. I have business to sort out with that other lying
scheming bitch tonight.'

Cassie
struggled gamely, but the man behind pinned her arms at her side.
'Let me go,' she yelled, back-heeling him and catching his foot. In
response, he pulled her hair hard, forcing her head back until her
eyes were staring at the ceiling. Amused, the monk laughed as he
moved back to her and stroked her neck, sending shivers of
revulsion down her spine.

Brother David
stepped out of the shadows, and bowed to The Leader, who barely
acknowledged him. Taking a sobbing Cassie by the arm, he led her
from the room.

She tried to
shake Brother David off, looking wildly about for any means of
escape when they walked down a long panelled hallway. 'What… what
are you going to do with me?' she managed, between sobs. 'Why does
he want me tomorrow night?'

Brother David,
knowing exactly why the madman who was running their lives wanted
this child, bit down on an angry retort. He wanted to yell at the
panelled walls, rave at the ceiling. Nothing had prepared him for
the living hell they had all endured for the last year. And here
was another innocent.

His faith was
sorely tried as he thought angrily,
Where the hell are
you, Mike Yorke?

Even though he
was seething inside, he kept a calm exterior so as not to frighten
her more. 'Don’t fret, child. Tomorrow is a long way off. Who knows
what it will bring?'

Mike and
Kristina pulled up outside the nightclub. Before they got out of
the car, Mike said, 'Forgot to say -- I like your hair that
way.'

About to open
the car door, Kristina paused, looked at him and shook her head.
'It took you two days to notice?'

'Well, no, I
mean, it was really short before and now it’s long in a ponytail.
Just saying you suit it, that’s all. You never could take a
compliment, could you, Kristina?'

'You used to
take plenty for the both of us.' She got out of the car and slammed
the door, instantly regretting what she’d said, and knowing Mike
didn’t deserve that. He was a little vain, but certainly not over
the top. So, he flirted a little, but never when he was in a
relationship.
It’s me being a fool, acting as if the last four
years hasn’t
happened and we’re still together. God, I feel
like such an idiot.

Oh dear,
Mike was thinking as he followed her,
said the wrong
thing again. What the hell is it with her and Jill?

He caught up
with her before they entered the double doors. 'So how’s Mr
Kristina these days?' She gave him a look that would re- freeze the
melting ice caps.

'What?'

'Don’t say you
haven’t heard.'

Mike looked
perplexed. 'Heard?'

She put her
head down for a moment. Slowly lifting it, she met his eyes. 'Tim
died over a year ago.'

'Oh… I’m sorry,
Kristina, I swear I didn’t know.'

She sighed. 'I
guess you didn’t, Mike. Sorry for snapping at you. But it was over
before the first year was out, anyhow. There was nothing there. I
realised more or less right off. Still, he was a good man, and it
did break my heart when he died.' She sighed again. 'Should we go
in now?'

Mike nodded as
he opened the door. Putting aside until later what she’d just told
him, he became all copper as he strode across the room. Reaching
the bar, he took his badge out, and said to the barman and the
pretty blonde waitress, 'DI Mike Yorke. Could you both spare me a
minute to look at some pictures?'

The barman
shrugged. 'No skin off my nose, mate, give us them here.' The
waitress stepped close, and the pair studied the three
photographs.

After a moment
the waitress stepped back and shook her head. 'Never seen any of
them before. But a lot of them look the same these days, don’t
they? Same hair, same clothes.'

'Are you sure?'
Kristina asked.

She shrugged.
'Can’t really say.'

'How about
you?' Mike looked at the barman.

'Well...' He
sucked his teeth for a moment, a habit Mike found annoying. 'I
think I’ve seen the bloke in here before. Couldn’t tell you his
name, though. But the girls look familiar, there’s a group of them,
they generally sit together.' He gestured with his head towards the
far right-hand side of the room. 'Over there.'

'What’s up?'
The voice came from the far end of the bar, where a door marked
Manager
was half-open.

'It’s the
cops,' the waitress said. 'Want to know if we’ve seen these people
before.'

A bald man in a
grey suit and a white T-shirt moved along the bar. Mike guessed
that it was one of the bouncers. He nodded at Mike and Kristina as
he picked up the photographs. A moment later, he put two of the
photographs on the bar and handed the remaining one to Mike. 'This
girl – a couple of nights ago, she ran out of here like a bat out
of hell. No one followed her so, I guessed she must have had
trouble at home and someone had given her a bell. The bloke, never
seen him before. The other girl, probably.'

'OK. Know any
names of the people she was with?'

The bouncer
frowned. 'I’m sure they all knock around in a sort of gang, about
half a dozen of them.'

Nodding his
agreement, the barman snapped his fingers. 'Maria, that’s her name.
She’s always in here. Lives not far from here, actually.'

'Do you know
where?' Mike asked.

'Em... oh,
bloody hell. Tell you what, if I write it down it’ll come to me.
Funny sort of memory, if you know what I mean.' He pulled a small
notebook out of the breast pocket of his shirt and started writing.
He hesitated a moment, then carried on at full speed. With a
flourish, he handed the note over to Mike. 'That’s it. I had to
drop her home one night, she’d had one too many.'

Mike stared for
a moment at the note, and thought,
Shit.
Looking up at the
trio, he said, 'Thanks for your help.' Quickly, watched by three
pairs of inquisitive eyes, he ushered Kristina out of the bar.

Kristina
blinked in the bright sunlight. 'What’s all that about?'

'Get in the
car.'

When they were
both strapped in, Mike said, 'That piece of paper, where the hell
is it?'

'I left it on
your desk, in a plastic bag. Why?'

'God, why
didn’t you remind me?'

'Mike, you
couldn’t miss it.'

'I’ve never
seen it. Must have dropped something on top of it.' He waited until
a red Post Office van passed, then pulled out into the traffic.

Kristina
shrugged. 'It’s meaningless, anyhow. Just a bunch of circles and
squiggles. And it’s got to be on your desk, because I put it there
myself.'

'Hmm. Must have
become mixed up with some paperwork. I’ll have a good look when we
get back.' He stopped outside of Maria’s house. They knocked,
waited, knocked again, waited some more. Still no answer.

'Guess we’re
gonna have to come back,' Kristina said, blowing air up into her
fringe.

Mike nodded,
looked at his watch. 'We best get back.' He moved to the window
and, cupping his hands around his face to block the sun, looked
inside. In the far corner stood a fifty-inch television set, next
to it a state of the art music centre. Expensive-looking furniture
and thick, creamy-coloured carpets caused him to say, 'Wow, this
Maria must have a hell of a job!'

'Let me see.'
Kristina pushed Mike out of the way and stood on her toes to look
inside. After a moment taking in the luxurious sitting room, she
said. 'Wow’s right.'

'Tell you
what.' Mike pointed up the street. 'You work up that way to the
top, and I’ll go down, cross over to the other side. Then we’ll
meet back here. See what this Maria’s neighbours have to say about
her.'

Twenty minutes
later they met up again, having both drawn blanks.

Mike looked
puzzled. 'Can’t see how you can live in a place for three years,
and not one of your neighbours knows anything at all about you.
Even the old biddy next door, who was prepared to tell me anything
I wanted to know about everyone in the whole of bloody Berwick,
knows nothing about Maria. Only that she’s been here for three
years, and comes and goes at odd hours.'

'Yeah, doesn’t
sound like she has a regular job to pay for all of that. She’s
certainly not a copper, that’s for sure.'

Mike laughed.
'You got that in one. OK, let's get back. This note has me
puzzled.'

Smiler got off
the bus in the middle of Berwick. The town was full of
holidaymakers who seemed to have descended in swarms. He had to see
Mike. He couldn’t think straight – the pressure of knowing only so
much was torturing him. Both girls, who were somehow linked to him,
were in grave danger. He had to make Mike realise there were less
than two days left. They had to find out where the girls were
before it was too late. But all he could see was blood, blood and
more blood.

Somehow he had
to make Mike believe.

The girls were
in some sort of fortress, perhaps a castle. He knew this from the
rough cold stone he had felt through their hands, and the vast
empty spaces above them. They were together, but not together; in
the same place, but unaware of each other.

But where? This
coast was littered with castles.

It was all so
frustrating. He knew, and he believed. This wasn’t just something
he was imagining, it was real. He knew he could really see things,
but Mike could be so stubborn.

Lately the
flashes he’d been getting had been terrifying, more intense. It
seemed the older he got, the more he was able to see. And the more
it was frightening him. He wished to God they would stop, go away,
leave him in peace. Aunt May had said it was a gift, and he should
be thankful.

He only saw it
as a curse.

Arriving at the
police station, he was told by the blonde PC that Mike was out.
Disappointed, and anxious because time was running away at an
alarming speed, he went back into the town centre. He would grab a
ham and cheese sandwich somewhere, then go back and wait.

The café he
chose was The Baguette in Hide Street. Further down the street, on
the other side, he spotted The Flower Room. He would take Aunt May
a bunch of flowers. Last night had been so special. He had found
out, for the first time ever, how good it felt to really laugh, so
much that it hurt. His eyes misted up just remembering. He supposed
any flowers would do, she seemed to love them all.

He counted the
change in his pocket without taking it out, a trick you learned
early on when your life was the streets. Mike had sorted him out
with Social Security and now, thank God, he got money on a regular
basis.

No more selling
himself just to eat. To be honest, though, it wasn’t just to eat.
The depraved things he’d let happen to himself had been to feed his
drug addiction. And the things that happened before he was addicted
were done to him to feed his mother’s addiction.

He sighed. So
much to be sorry for.

So much to be
thankful for.

So much to
lose.

Danny watched
one of the monks and the gunman walk round the tables, giving out
little white pills. Eager hands reached towards them, the pills
greedily snatched and swallowed at once.

Shit!
he
thought, wondering exactly what deadly poison the monk was giving
out.

How the hell
do I get out of this?

Once, when they
were teenagers, he and Evan had been tempted to try drugs by a
beautiful girl they both fancied like mad. That once had been more
than enough. All he remembered about the experience was being
chased down the street by every horrific monster fiction writers
had dreamed up, and many more of his own creation. Hell, there were
even Space Invaders from the actual game bloody well chasing him,
with their own special sound effects. He shuddered at the
memory.

If Evan, who
had seemed untouched by the drugs, apart from being a little hyper,
hadn’t finally caught him, God only knows what might have happened
to him. He was heading directly for the motorway at the time, like
a homing pigeon, his way home across two- and three-lane motorways.
They had both sworn off it the next day, and had never been tempted
since.

This stuff that
they were feeding the work force seemed to have a different effect
though, he thought,
sort of keeping the poor sods like
zombies.

He looked at
the tablets he was packing, noting with relief that they were
coated and probably, he thought – he hoped – would only dissolve in
the stomach. He glanced up at the new girl, who was still shaking,
and wondered what her story was, what had led her to this hell.
Waiting until the monk and the gunman were furthest away, and
thanking God that they hadn’t started with his little corner, he
hissed quietly.

Either she
hadn’t heard him, or she was ignoring him. He looked at the other
girl, her brown hair tied up in bunches which fell halfway down her
back. Her eyes behind her glasses were as far away as they could
possibly be. Danny felt a stab of pity. She only looked about
fifteen years old.