Текст книги "Wrong Time Wrong Place (Quick Reads 2013)"

Автор книги: Simon Kernick

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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 5 страниц)

Contents

About the Book

About the Author

Also by Simon Kernick

Title Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Ultimatum

Copyright

About the Book

Have you ever been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

You are hiking in the Scottish highlands with three friends when you come across a girl.

She is half-naked, has been badly beaten, and she can’t speak English.

She is clearly running away from someone.

Do you stop to help her? Even if it means putting your friends’ lives – and your own – in terrible danger?

About the Author

Simon Kernick is one of Britain’s most exciting thriller writers. He arrived on the scene with his highly acclaimed début novel, The Business of Dying, which introduced Dennis Milne, a corrupt cop moonlighting as a hitman. His big breakthrough came with his novel Relentless, which was selected by Richard and Judy for their Recommended Summer Reads promotion and rapidly went on to become the bestselling thriller of 2007. His most recent thriller is Siege.

Simon’s research is what makes his thrillers so authentic. He talks both on and off the record to members of the Met’s Special Branch and Anti-Terrorist Branch and the Serious Organised Crime Agency, so he gets to hear first-hand what actually happens in the dark and murky underbelly of UK crime.

To find out more about his thrillers, visit: www.simonkernick.com

www.facebook.com/SimonKernick

twitter.com/simonkernick

Also by Simon Kernick

The Business of Dying

A Good Day to Die

The Murder Exchange

The Crime Trade

Relentless

Severed

Deadline

Target

The Last Ten Seconds

The Payback

Siege

Ultimatum

www.simonkernick.com

1

IT HAD BEEN two nights since she had heard Eva’s screams as they took her away. Now there was only silence, which meant her friend was dead.

Tara knew they’d be coming for her next. It was that simple. That was why she was here. To die. She had no idea what she was meant to have done to deserve this fate. It was all like some strange nightmare.

One night – a week, two weeks ago? – Tara had gone to sleep in the filthy little room she called home, with the constant drone of the buses going past outside the window. Then, when she’d woken up, she was here in this tiny, windowless cell. She was naked, with only a blanket for warmth, and chained to the wall by her ankle, like some kind of beaten animal.

At first she’d thought she was completely alone in the stony silence, and she’d started crying with despair. But then she’d heard a voice speaking her language – Albanian – from beyond the wall, asking her name. It was her friend Eva, and she was being held in the cell next door.

Eva had told her that the same thing had happened to both of them, and not just the kidnapping. Like Tara, she’d been talked into coming to England by a man who’d promised her a good job and a release from the poverty she knew at home, only to force her to work in a brothel as a virtual slave. They even both came from the same area of Kosovo.

In their cells, Tara and Eva had talked every day for hours and hours at a time. About home and family, about their hopes and dreams, about what they’d do if they ever got out of there (Eva wanted to go to Paris and climb the Eiffel Tower, Tara wanted to learn to ride a horse).

But now Tara was alone with only the constant, dead silence for company.

That didn’t mean she’d given up, though. No, if anything, what had happened to Eva had filled her with a new energy. Tara was going to escape. And she had a plan.

There was a piece of loose brick in the wall behind where she sat. She’d found it on her first day here. Ever since then she’d been working to get it free, wearing her nails down as she dug out the mortar on either side of it, until finally she was able to twist and pull at it, slowly loosening it.

Now she was holding a solid half-brick in her hand. It would be a useful weapon, if only she had the physical strength, and the chance, to use it properly.

Tara had never seen the man who held her prisoner. She was always made to turn round and face the wall on those few times when he came in to change the bucket she used as a toilet. He gave the order in Albanian but in a thick accent she didn’t recognise, and it sounded like they were the only words in Albanian he knew.

Twice a day, he pushed a plate of food and a plastic bottle of water through a flap in the cell door. He always wore black gloves, but sometimes his sleeve rode up and she could see the thick hair on his arms, and the swirling shape of a tattoo on his skin.

She could hear him now, moving about outside the door. She tucked the brick behind her, scared but hopeful too that he’d come in, knowing this was probably the best chance she was going to get.

But then she saw the flap opening. He wasn’t going to come inside.

Usually she put the blanket over herself when she heard him coming, but this time she threw it off, letting out a low, painful moan, trying to sound as if she was sick. At the same time she rubbed her stomach and pulled a face. There was a spyhole in the cell door, and she knew he’d be looking through it, checking her out.

He probably wouldn’t care at all if she was ill, but if he saw her naked, it might be enough to get him interested. Her naked body had certainly interested all the other men she’d been forced to entertain these past few months.

She moaned again, louder and longer this time. The flap closed without the food being pushed through.

The key turned in the lock and he stepped inside. He was tall and dressed in black. A hood covered his head, like some kind of hangman from the history books Tara had read as a child. The man frightened her. God, how he frightened her. His arms were thick and she could imagine him using them to throttle the life out of his victims.

‘Be strong,’ she told herself as she writhed around on the floor, acting like she was dying. All the time she could hear her heart beating in her chest, as the fear pumped through her.

He was coming over. Bending down, saying something she didn’t understand. Looking at her with suspicion in his eyes.

She could feel the brick in the small of her back. She rolled over, still moaning, her arm dropping out of sight, knowing this was it. Her chance.

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her round so she was facing him. ‘Bitch,’ he said. It was a word she recognised, because it was used so often by the men in the brothel.

Then something changed in his eyes. Anger was replaced by lust, and she felt him roughly pulling her legs apart with a gloved hand, making weird moaning noises beneath his mask.

That was the moment she grabbed the brick, sat up suddenly, and hit him on the side of the head.

‘Bitch!’ he howled a second time, his voice echoing around the tiny cell. He grabbed the hand holding the brick by the wrist, yanking it back painfully, his eyes burning with fury.

Knowing she couldn’t afford to stop now, Tara kept up her attack, jabbing her forefinger into his left eye like a knife, feeling its soft fleshiness give way.

This time he screamed in real pain, trying to twist his head away. At the same time, he relaxed his grip on her wrist.

She pulled her arm free and struggled out from under him. The chain securing her ankle to the wall rattled angrily as she jumped to her feet. She hit him for a second time as he swayed on his knees, yelping in pain.

The brick shattered into a dozen pieces, and for a moment Tara thought she’d failed. Her heart sank, but then the man grunted and fell on to his side, barely moving.

Feeling a rush of excitement, she crouched down beside him and pulled the set of keys from his belt, praying that one would unlock the chain around her ankle.

There must have been a dozen keys of various shapes and sizes, and the first one didn’t fit. Nor did the second.

The guard was beginning to come round. He let out a moan, and one arm moved.

Tara tried a third key, her hands shaking so much she could barely put it into the slot. Another wrong one.

He was turning round now, one hand still over his injured eye, but the other one staring at her.

Come on, come on.

She tried a fourth key. It didn’t work.

The man reached round behind his back. When his hand came back into view, Tara gasped and panic swept through her. He was holding a huge knife with a jagged blade. She’d seen hunters using knives like that to gut deer back in Kosovo.

Willing herself to stay calm, trying desperately to forget that in the next few seconds she could die, Tara tried another key. She slipped it into the lock with shaking hands. The lock clicked, and the metal clamp that had been painfully attached to her from the moment she’d first woken up in this place opened. Just at that moment, the guard lunged towards her with the knife. She jumped backwards, hitting the wall behind her. The tip of the blade came so close to her belly that she could almost feel it touching her.

But with the chain removed from her, she suddenly felt a new surge of energy. Taking advantage of the fact that her attacker was still on his knees, she darted around him and leaped at the cell door. She flung it open and ran into the narrow, dimly-lit corridor outside.

Tara had no idea where she was going but she could tell she was in some kind of basement area. The walls and floors were the same cold stone as the cell, the only light provided by a single bulb hanging down from the ceiling.

To her right was a flight of steps, and she sprinted towards them. Her legs were stiff from lack of exercise, but sheer terror and a strong desire to live drove her on. She passed other cell doors, making her wonder how many girls had been locked in this horrible place, and then she was up the steps, taking them two at a time.

She could hear him chasing behind her, his footsteps heavy on the stone, the curses raging in his throat.

There was a door at the top, and she prayed it wouldn’t be locked. Grabbing the handle, she gave it a yank so hard that when it opened it almost knocked her back down the steps.

She charged through the gap, then screamed in despair. She was suddenly in a dark, empty cupboard with a blank wall directly in front of her, and no obvious way out. She hammered on the wall, still screaming, but it wasn’t doing any good. Nothing budged. She was trapped, and her attacker was almost at the top of the steps.

Turning round, she kicked at the door with all her strength, the force of the kick sending it flying into him. He let out a yelp and stumbled backwards. At the same time, Tara lost her balance and fell backwards herself in the opposite direction.

She must have hit some sort of lever that opened a trap door, because suddenly the wall wasn’t there any more and she was rolling onto a thick carpet in a grand-looking living room with expensive furnishings. Daylight was glaring in through huge windows, making her squint with pain.

Tara was straight up on her feet, sprinting out of the room and down an equally grand hallway with dozens of incredible animal heads lining the walls. This was the house of a very rich person, but all she could think of was getting out.

There was another door ahead. It looked like the front door to the house. Behind her, she could hear her jailer calling someone. There was increasing alarm in his voice, as if he knew he’d made a terrible mistake. The next second, Tara was outside, the fresh air hitting her in the face like a slap. All she could see in the distance was trees.

Trees and freedom.

2

‘ALL THERE IS up here is bloody trees,’ said Guy, sounding knackered and pissed off. ‘I hope you two know where you’re going, because I don’t.’

‘Course we do,’ said Ash, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

The weekend was only a few hours old and yet she was already bitterly regretting coming away on a walking trip with Guy and Tracy. It wasn’t that they were bad people – they weren’t – but they were Nick’s friends rather than hers (Nick and Guy had gone to university together). And they both had this hugely irritating habit of talking about how much fun they had living in Singapore, where Guy earned squillions and paid only 10 per cent tax, and Tracy lived a relaxed expat lifestyle. This seemed to consist solely of tennis, drinks parties and luxury treatments, but despite Tracy’s best efforts at bigging it up, it sounded to Ash as much fun as having your teeth pulled out.

‘I don’t miss this country, you know,’ continued Guy as the four of them walked down a slight incline towards a pine forest that led to the lodge they’d booked. ‘You pay all these taxes and what do you get for your money? Sod all.’

Ash and Nick, who were walking a few yards ahead, exchanged glances, and Nick raised an eyebrow. It was clear to Ash that he wasn’t having the time of his life either.

‘Well, you get views like this,’ said Nick, stopping and looking back down the hill they’d just climbed to the forest-covered valley below, where a river wound away gently into the distance. ‘I bet you don’t see many sights like that in Singapore.’

‘That’s true,’ said Tracy, who’d been banging on less than her husband about the joys of their new home. ‘It is beautiful.’ She closed her eyes, basking in the last rays of the early evening sun, looking like she was enjoying herself for the first time that day.

Guy wasn’t convinced. ‘Lombok in Indonesia is just as beautiful. And a lot warmer too. We’re thinking about buying a holiday home there.’

‘I don’t know about you lot, but I could murder a pint right now,’ said Nick, trying to change the subject.

‘I concur,’ said Guy, who liked using big words where little ones would do. ‘Is there a pub round here anywhere?’

‘Afraid not,’ said Ash. ‘I did say the lodge was in the middle of nowhere when I booked it.’

Guy looked annoyed. ‘You weren’t lying.’

God knows what they were going to do tomorrow, thought Ash. Or Sunday. They’d come to this isolated part of Scotland to walk. It was something the four of them had done together a couple of times before. But as Ash thought back to those weekends now, she remembered that actually they’d been more about sitting around drinking, smoking dope and having a natter rather than going for proper all-day hikes.

She and Nick had changed since those days. They appreciated the great outdoors for what it was – a much-needed escape from the grim routine of London life. It was clear that Guy and Tracy didn’t feel the same way, although at least Tracy was making an effort.

‘Who the hell is that?’ said Nick, as they all turned round, following his gaze.

At first, Ash couldn’t see what he was looking at, then she saw someone running towards them through long grass about a hundred metres away. It looked like whoever it was had just come out of the line of pine trees along the ridge above them, and they were clearly in a real hurry.

‘Is she naked?’ asked Guy, sounding genuinely interested in something for the first time that day.

‘Jesus, she is,’ said Nick. ‘I wonder if she’s all right.’

The girl was indeed naked, and young too, with a thin spindly body and long blonde hair. She was coming towards them at a sprint, stumbling as she went. Instinctively the four of them started towards her.

Tara was exhausted, and panting so hard she could hardly breathe. She sprinted towards the four people with the packs on their backs. They looked like hikers. They could help her. Take her somewhere warm and give her something to eat. After that, she didn’t care. She just wanted to go home. Back to her family.

She’d been running for a long time now. Her feet were torn and cut, and her body was covered in scratches. Thankfully there was no sign of the man who’d been following her. She’d outrun the bastard.

As she reached the group of hikers, she collapsed to her knees, unable to continue any further. Tears rolled down her face.

It was hard to believe but, for the first time since she’d come to this terrible country, she was actually free.

*

‘It’s OK,’ said Ash, crouching down beside the girl. ‘We’re here now. What’s happened?’

In between sobs, the girl said something in a foreign language that sounded Eastern European.

‘I think she might be Polish,’ said Guy.

‘What happened to you?’ asked Tracy, putting an arm round the girl’s shoulders.

The girl flinched.

‘OK, let’s give her some space,’ said Ash, taking off her jacket and giving it to the girl so she didn’t have to sit there stark naked. ‘It’s obvious she’s had a bad experience.’

She stood back up, noticing that the girl had a vivid red mark round one ankle where the skin had rubbed away. It looked like she’d been shackled or something. Nervously, Ash looked up towards the line of trees, wondering what had happened to the girl in there.

‘Can you speak any English?’ she asked the girl as gently as possible, using all the skills she’d learned in her job as a primary school teacher to put her at ease.

The girl shook her head, wiped her eyes, then suddenly pointed back towards the trees.

‘Do you think she’s been raped?’ asked Guy.

Tracy gave him a look. ‘Guy … don’t say that.’

‘I’m just asking.’

Ash tensed. ‘Something bad’s happened to her. I think she was being chased.’

‘There doesn’t look like there’s anyone chasing her,’ said Tracy.

‘Either way, we need to get an ambulance. She’s been through a trauma.’

‘I’ll phone one,’ said Nick, taking out his mobile, then almost immediately cursing. ‘There’s no reception up here.’

Ash checked her own phone, as did Guy and Tracy, all with the same result. One of the reasons Ash had chosen this place was its remoteness. Nick was always getting out-of-hours calls from work, and she’d wanted this weekend to be different, so she’d been happy to be somewhere where his phone wasn’t going to ring constantly. Now she realised just how far they were from any sort of help.

‘Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with this country?’ grunted Guy, staring with disgust at his phone. ‘I can get perfect reception in any Third World hellhole, yet here—’

‘Shut up, Guy,’ Nick snapped. ‘We don’t need your moaning now, all right?’

‘There’s a landline at the lodge,’ said Ash, ‘and it’s only ten minutes away. We’ll call an ambulance from there, and if we have to, we’ll drive her to a hospital.’

‘But we don’t even know who she is,’ said Tracy, sounding as put out as her husband.

‘Exactly. And she can’t tell us. So we need to help her.’ Jesus, thought Ash. What was wrong with these people? Had their time abroad sucked out all their humanity?

She put a hand out to the girl and helped her to her feet. As she did so she noticed something on her wrist. It looked like a plain black wristband, but it had a hard plastic casing and was an extremely tight fit.

The girl seemed to notice it too, almost for the first time. She tried to take it off, but it wouldn’t budge.

‘What do you reckon this is?’ Ash asked her husband, showing him the wristband.

They both examined it.

‘I don’t know,’ said Nick. ‘It just looks like a bangle.’

‘Except it’s locked on to her wrist.’

The girl pulled her arm away, tapped her finger on the wristband and then pointed back towards the trees. There was fear in her eyes.

‘I don’t like this,’ said Tracy.

Guy put an arm round her. ‘Me neither. If we’re going to hang on to her, then let’s get going before it gets dark.’

The sun was dropping behind the opposite hill and the air was feeling colder.

As one, the group turned and started walking towards the lodge, the girl moving faster than any of them, and every now and then looking back over her shoulder.

He watched them go from his position a hundred metres away, and cursed. He’d almost had the little bitch earlier. It had been easy enough to track her progress using the GPS clamped to her wrist. He thought he’d cut her off, but she’d been faster than he expected. She had the kind of stamina that he wouldn’t have thought possible in someone who’d just spent the last two weeks chained in a cellar. Then again, as he knew all too well, desperation does strange things to a person.

Now, though, he had a real problem.

They all did.