‘Hell’s bells. A wardrobe’s only like a fucking oil drum.’
‘Why you obsessed with locking people in enclosed spaces?’
‘I like to see their faces,’ one of the girls complained. ‘When they’re locked up you can’t see their expressions.’
‘Sadist.’
‘Yeah, I’m a sadist—so what?’
‘Nail them to the garage doors.’
‘Boo-rrring!’
‘Acid?’
‘Done that.’
‘Make them swallow poison.’
‘Takes too long.’
‘Not enough blood!’
‘Get two cars. Handcuff one hand to the bumper of one car, then handcuff the other hand to the other car—’
‘And rip ’em in two?’
‘Sounds promising.’
‘I know.’ Cowboy’s face lit up as inspiration struck. ‘I know, we’ll make one of them torture the other.’
‘Yeah, great!’
‘Brilliant!’
There were cowboy whoops and cheers, some slapped him on the back.
‘Who’s going to do the torturing?’
‘Make her hurt him.’
‘How?’
‘And, Tesco, if you mention oil drums again, so help me I’ll weld you inside one and drop it in the lake.’
I heard Kate give a low groan. ‘Oh God, no, no.’
I wanted to comfort her as we sat there side by side on the bench. I wanted to tell her not to worry. But what the hell could I do? Just what the hell could I do?
Chapter 63
‘Tape his hands and feet.’ Cowboy threw a roll of gaffer tape to one of the girls. Grinning, she stepped forward.
‘Pray,’ she said.
I felt the muzzle of a gun dig sharply between my shoulder blades. I put my hands together as if in prayer.
She found the end of the tape on the roll and pulled. The tape unravelled with a burring sound. Then she began to tape my hands and wrists together.
Dosser said, ‘tape him together at the elbows, too.’
She wore a leather jacket. Every so often she’d tease the zip down to show she was wearing nothing underneath. Her breasts were covered with freckles; they gave a little wobble when she moved. She caught my eye and grinned.
I kept my face dead.
Expressionless.
We had perhaps ten minutes to get out of this shit hole. Already Tesco had found a tool kit and was experimenting with a hand drill, boring holes into a fence post. The grin on his face was nothing less than lunatic.
I looked round. The weirdoes were still passing the vodka bottle round, the breeze wafting out their fluttering strips of red and orange silk ribbons. Seagulls overflew the house. A cat sneaked through the long grass on the lawn that hadn’t seen a mower in months. There must be something I can use, I told myself fiercely. Come on, think, think!
The girl still worked on binding me, wrapping the brown plastic tape around and around my wrists and hands. She made eyes at me and jiggled her freckled breasts in front of my eyes. One of the men leaned over my shoulder and pinched her nipple.
‘Ow…Mental. You can look but don’t touch.’
‘Mental like titties.’
‘Mental can fuck off.’
‘Mental kiss.’
‘No, Mental can fuck off, I said.’
I heard him begin to breathe excitedly behind me. I even felt his stinking hot breath on the back of my neck.
The girl complained to Cowboy. ‘Mental’s getting a hard-on again. Can’t you something with him?’
‘Don’t look at us, dearie,’ Tesco queened, hand on hip.
One of the men said, ‘Tutts, can’t you take him somewhere quiet and…relieve him.’
The girl scowled as she bit through the tape. ‘No way. He nearly broke my back last time he tried.’ She smoothed the tape down around my wrist, allowing her fingers to stroke up over mine. When we spoke our heads were close enough not to be overheard. The sound of Alice Cooper ripping from the speakers made sure of that. ‘Mmm…’ she purred, ‘you’d be nice and gentle with me, wouldn’t you?’
I swallowed. ‘I don’t think I’ll be around long enough for you to find out.’
‘I guess not.’ She sighed. ‘Pity. You’ve got lovely eyes.’
‘What’s your name?’
She looked at me, as if caught off guard by my interest. ‘Tutts…’ she said softly. ‘Just Tutts.’
‘Where you from, Tutts?’
‘Originally?’
I nodded, keeping eye contact while frantically trying to pluck some idea out of the ether to spring us from all this.
‘Originally, I’m from shop doorways…and from under railway bridges, and cardboard boxes. We all are.’
‘You were homeless?’
She nodded. ‘And so are you now.’
‘That’s right, Tutts. But I want to live.’
‘And so does your girlfriend.’
‘She’s not my girlfriend.’
Again she shot me a strange look. Perhaps it was the sound of my voice as much as anything. But she seemed to soften. The hard, cruel look left her eye.
‘You look so clean,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t have looked twice at me six months ago.’
‘Wouldn’t I?’
‘No.’ Her eyes were suddenly sad. ‘I’d have been laid there in my sleeping-bag in Oxford Street and you’d have stepped right over me. Just like the rest. We were a sub-species to people like you.’
‘Would you like to see me get hurt?’
Now a confusion crept into her eyes. ‘I…I’m not bothered.’
‘No?’
‘They’ll treat you like you treated us. A sub-species.’
‘Did I ever do anything to hurt you?’
‘No, but you’d be like the rest. We’re better off now the world’s decided to get itself bent.’
‘You know, if we went somewhere quiet we could have a really good conversation.’ I smiled. ‘You know we would.’
‘Hey, Tutts,’ Cowboy Man shouted. ‘Have you finished taping up baby face yet?’
‘Give me a minute,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not fucking greased lightning, you know!’ Her eyes blazed such hostility at Cowboy that I felt a small victory. I hated oozing this smoothie talk but I pushed on hard. ‘Do they treat you well here?’
‘Better than when I was on the street? Yeah. I eat. I sleep somewhere dry.’
‘You could come back with us. We’d treat you well.’
She looked up. Now she seemed childlike and trusting. ‘How would we get—ow, Mental. I’ve told you fucking before. Leave my fucking tits alone.’
She rocked back into a crouching position, her chest heaving with anger; her face flushed red.
‘Ha-ha! Mental touch tittie.’
‘Mental can fuck off.’
Cowboy walked across, laughing. ‘Mental goes wild when he gets turned on.’
‘Does he now?’ I heard Kate murmur.
With a shock I realized she was going to do something.
‘Kate—’
She stood up and pulled the T-shirt up over her head. I heard the guttural gasp behind me. Her long back arched as she slipped the T-shirt off. Her breasts looked perfect. The nipples rose into points.
‘Go on, Mental,’ Kate said. ‘You touch mine if you want to.’
‘Aw fuck!’ Cowboy Man groaned. ‘Aw, fuck, fuck…fuck!’
Mental, a middle-aged man built like a grizzly, with a shaggy backwoods beard and a swastika tattooed on his forehead, lunged forward, his huge hands clamping round Kate’s breasts.
‘Ah, yes! I’m all yours, Mental. I’m all yours; come on, do what you want.’
Cowboy yelled. ‘Grab him! No…hit him with something. I want her in one piece tonight. I don’t want his pawprints all over her.’
I was knocked sideways as the rest of the gang dived on Mental. He was a roaring bull of a man. It looked as if it’d take a bulldozer to knock him off his feet.
I saw Kate slip out from under the mass of kicking arms and legs. People shouted orders at each other. No one listened.
Tutts grabbed hold of me. As she did so, Kate shoulder-charged her, knocking her flat on the patio. Her face hit the stone slab with the sound of a loud slap. She screwed shut her eyes in pain.
‘Come on, Rick.’ Kate hissed. ‘Move…move!’
I moved. My arms were still taped in front of me. But, Christ and all our fathers, I really moved.
Kate ran in front of me, her long torso twisting as she ran, showing her ribs and smooth skin gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.
We crashed through the bushes at the edge of the garden. There was shouting. Different kind of shouts now. They’d realized we’d run for it.
‘Come on! They’re following!’ Kate shouted.
I ran, trying to twist out of the sticky tape. Christ, it was tough plastic.
‘Try and get to the other island,’ I panted. ‘Across the footbridge.’
‘No. We need to get off the island.’ She pulled the T-shirt back on as she ran.
‘They must have come here by boat. We’ll have to try and find it.’
We ran on, pushing everything into running. This was our one chance. They wouldn’t screw up twice. Trees blurred by me.
I shot a glance back. They were running hard behind us.
‘They’re going to start shooting,’ she panted.
‘No, they’re not. They want us alive.’
‘And we know why they want us alive.’
We ran faster, feet pounding the path through the wood.
Shit.
Water.
Suddenly we were at the water’s edge; London lake stretched in front of us further than the eye could see.
‘Swim!’
She looked horrified. ‘In that? Where to? Rick, there’s nothing out there. Nothing.’
‘We’ll try this way. If we see anything we can reach we’ll have to risk it.’
‘Rick…Rick…I’m not a strong swimmer. I could only manage a couple of lengths at the best of times.’
‘Don’t worry. We’re going to come through this.’ I gave her a grim smile. ‘Come on. Stick to the bushes.’
Using my teeth, I managed to split the plastic tape binding my hands.
We ran out of the bushes onto the track where we’d found the Rolls-Royce with the carrier bag of champagne and canned sea food.
Sure enough to our right up the track sat the blue Rolls, its big radiator grille gleaming in the setting sun.
To our left the track ran down into the water.
We stopped, listening.
‘Damn,’ Kate hissed. ‘They’re all around us.’
I could hear them calling, clapping, whistling, as if they were trying to spook game birds into the air.
‘This way.’ I started to run into the bushes fringing the lake. ‘Damn.’
I nearly ran into them. Three men, including Mental, stood waiting for us. He carried a machete. Blood streaked his forehead where they’d beaten him.
‘Back.’
‘What is it?’
‘Back the other way. They’re coming through the bushes.’
We tried to retrace our steps. But I saw Tutts and two men working their way along the bank. All three were armed with rifles.
Shit.
There was one route left.
We ran up the track, past the Rolls-Royce.
Damn, damn, damn.
Kate groaned. ‘No…no, they’ve got us.’
‘No, they haven’t,’ I said.
‘Rick there’s nowhere else to run. We’re cornered.’
‘The car. Get into the car!’
‘What?’
‘Quick. Into the car!’
Chapter 64
Kate was astounded. Her green eyes locked onto mine in disbelief as she repeated: ‘The car?’
‘Get in, please Kate—now.’
‘Rick, that’s crazy, we’d—’
‘I know it’s crazy. We’ve got to do the crazy if we want to live.’
I opened the driver’s door, forced her roughly in.
‘Rick. Rick! The track doesn’t go anywhere.’
‘Yes, it does.’
‘You haven’t got the ignition keys.’
‘Don’t need them.’
I pushed her all the way into the passenger seat.
The car faced downhill. In front of us a piece of track a hundred paces long. Beyond that nothing but water with the tips of telegraph poles and street lights poking through. In the rearview I could see Cowboy, Tesco and the rest start to walk down toward the car. They were smiling at each other, looking smug. They’d caught us and they knew it.
At least, they thought they had.
‘Rick. What are you going to do?’
‘Just give me a moment. Hand brake off. There. Hell. Why aren’t we moving?’
‘Rick, they’re getting closer.’
‘Damn, damn. Why aren’t we moving?’
Kate laughed in disbelief. ‘Rick, there’s no road, there’s no keys.’ She laughed again but it sounded closer to weeping. She thought I’d flipped.
In front of us, Mental and the other two stood on the track. Mental’s face, still awash with blood, was expressionless. The other two grinned and exchanged amused glances. What the fuck was the madman going to do in the car? Press the big red button on the dashboard in the hope the vertical takeoff jets blast him up into the sky and back home in time for supper?
That’s exactly what they were thinking. They even laughed out loud.
Meanwhile, I’d hit some fundamental flaw in my plan.
‘The car. It’s not moving.’
Kate buried her face in her hands; she was shaking her head, her shoulders trembled.
The gang of psychos were maybe twenty paces away by now. I said, ‘Lock your door.’ Kate obeyed, numb-looking now. ‘Window up?’
She nodded. Then shrugged helplessly. She thought I’d completely lost it.
‘Come on, car, move! Move!’
She shook her head. Ahead on the track, Mental and the other two were maybe fifteen paces away.
I jiggled the steering wheel. The steering lock snapped on. Not that it mattered. I just needed the car to move. Why wouldn’t it—’
Gotcha!
‘It’s still in gear! It needs to be in neutral!’
Kate shook her head, dazed.
I slapped the gearstick into neutral.
The car moved.
Slowly, slowly, slowly…
One centimetre. Then two centimetres. Three centimetres. Four, five, six.
I heard the Rolls-Royce’s big tyres crackle over pebbles and twigs.
‘Rick! You are mad!’ she shouted. ‘You’ll kill us.’
‘Yeah! So what? Want to be tortured to death over the next couple of days?’
‘But you can’t—Oh, God, they’re trying to get in.’
Cowboy and Tesco had caught up with the car as it rolled forward down the track. They tried the handles, shouting, banging on the windows.
The car picked up speed, freewheeling down towards the lake.
‘Jesus-Jesus…’
‘Kate. I’m only doing my best. I don’t want to see them hurt you.’
She looked up, gave a faint smile, then kissed me on the cheek. ‘Just hold me,’ she whispered, composed now. ‘Whatever happens. Just hold me. Please.’
I put my arm round her. She buried her face into my neck. I kissed her on the head.
In front of us stood Mental. He held out his thick arms. He looked as if he’d stop the car dead in its tracks as it rolled along the track. Gravity had got us now. The car bumped faster over fallen branches. The speedo needle crept past the ten mark.
Whatever happened, we weren’t going back. If there was a God we were in His hands now.
There was a terrific thump.
Mental had jumped onto the bonnet. He crouched there, hammering the windscreen with that meaty fist o
f his.
The rest of the gang still ran at the side of the car. They shouted. Their fists rained blows down onto the windows. Why didn’t they use their guns? My guess is they were too surprised by my bizarre escape plan. To freewheel a car along a road to nowhere?
I looked forward. I couldn’t see track anymore, it had run out. There was only that expanse of water. Black and evil-looking.
‘Hold on, Kate,’ I whispered. Christ, I couldn’t believe how calm I sounded. I actually believed this might work.
Rick. For Godsake’s what might work? I asked myself. You haven’t thought this through. You only wanted to get off this island. You don’t know what’ll happen next.
Suddenly the rumbling stopped. The shouting stopped. The hammering stopped.
In fact, it went eerily quiet the moment the car hit the lake. The Rolls-Royce’s thick bodywork screened out most of the sound of the car surging from dry land into water.
‘Rick, what’re you doing?’
‘I’m gambling this car has air conditioning. If you turn off the vents it just might…there.’
The car still moved but there was no sound now. It glided away from the island in a way that was eerily smooth.
There was a sudden thump on the glass. Mental glared in at us, still crouched on the bonnet.
‘Get off, you idiot,’ I hissed. ‘Get off. Swim for it.’
But he clung on there. He looked like Charles Manson with the thick beard and psychotic stare. The blood had dried, half covering the swastika on his forehead.
‘Rick…Rick. We’re sinking.’
‘We might be all right. People assume cars always sink in water. But you see news footage of floods and sometimes cars float like corks.’
‘Sometimes?’
‘With the cabin and fuel tank…they act like flotation chambers.’
‘It’s tilting forward. It’s going down nose first.’
‘It’s that monster on the front. The extra weight’s pulling it down.’
‘Why doesn’t he swim for it?’
‘Kate. Climb in the back. It might shift the centre of balance.’
I was sweating hard now. The car was making me claustrophobic. I still couldn’t believe I’d just driven the car into God knows how many kilometres of flood water in the hope this chunk of steel could float like a boat.
The car tilted steeply, nose downward. Through the windows I could see the water rippling around us. Thirty metres away I saw the banks of the island. There was no sign of the bunch of psychos who’d driven us to this.