‘I can see why you like the power a gun gives you. One pull of the trigger and someone dies.’ Doctor Reeve’s tongue flicked excitedly at his lips. ‘I have this incredible urge to do it right now just to see what it feels like to take a life.’
You haven’t got the balls
, Angel resisted the urge to retort. She dropped her eyes to the floor, seemingly resigned to her fate. But a plan of sorts was forming in her mind.
‘I bet the feeling is amazing, Godlike even,’ continued the psychiatrist. ‘Of course you know, don’t you, that a gun doesn’t give you control, it only creates the illusion of control?’ He raised his hand as if a ball was balanced in its palm. ‘Shall I tell you what real power, real control over people is? It’s holding their mind in your hand, knowing you can squash it with one squeeze. And young minds are the easiest to squash. Or mould. They’re like soft putty.’ An expression of utter loathing came into his eyes. ‘But you wouldn’t understand that. In the past, I had to deal with your kind – addicts, layabouts, runaways – every day. It’s people like you who are sending this country down the toilet. You sit on your arses all day, rotting your brains with daytime TV and your bodies with drugs and junk food. And then you come to me expecting me to sort your miserable, ignorant little lives out. Well I’m fucking sick of it. I’m sick of you people. You make me want to vomit!’
When Doctor Reeve had finished his rant, his face was almost as red as Angel’s hair. He glared at her as though daring her to deny the truth of his words. She held her silence, chills of rage coursing through her as she wondered how many young minds he’d closed his sadistic hand on.
Doctor Reeve scooped Angel’s belongings back into her handbag and picked it up. He motioned to the door with the gun. ‘Move.’
Angel headed into the hallway. The psychiatrist followed close behind, prodding her in the direction of the kitchen with the Glock. At the far end of the kitchen, a door led to a garage with an Audi in it. Doctor Reeve aimed a keyring at the car and pressed a button. The car’s lights flashed and its doors unlocked. He opened the boot. It was lined with black plastic. ‘Get in.’
The knife in Angel’s pocket jabbed into her thigh as she folded her thin frame into the boot. She didn’t believe for one second that Doctor Reeve and his final remaining partner in perversion had any intention of releasing Mark. Even so, she had no choice but to comply if Mark was to have any chance of surviving. It all depended on whether she was right about Doctor Reeve not being the sort of man to do his own dirty work. If she was, he would take her to this so-called stone-cold killer. And then she would have a chance, albeit a miniscule one, to free Mark. If she was wrong, he would probably drive out to some isolated spot and attempt to kill her.
‘I strongly suggest you lie as still and quiet as possible,’ said Doctor Reeve. ‘Because if for some reason we don’t make it to where we’re going, Mark will find his young life brought to a sudden and painful end. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes.’
A satisfied smile played around Doctor Reeve’s lips. ‘Good girl, you’re learning.’
Doctor Reeve closed the boot, sealing Angel in darkness. Her hand moved to the knife. It gave her little reassurance. Knife vs gun promised to be a very short fight. But she wouldn’t simply lie down and die. She would go down slashing and stabbing with every ounce of her strength, every fibre of her being. Her blood was thumping in her veins. She concentrated on breathing slowly. She needed to be calm – calm and ready. When the time came, she might only have a split second to act.
Angel heard the garage door opening. The Audi’s engine purred into life and the car pulled out. Adrift in darkness, she had no sense of the direction the car was taking. She focused all her energy, all her thoughts, on what she would have to do when it reached its destination, constantly shifting position to keep her circulation going. She visualised herself driving the knife deep into Doctor Reeve’s flesh, piercing his vital organs, ripping open his arteries.
After maybe half an hour, the Audi came to a stop and its engine fell silent. With an immense effort of will, Angel forced herself to let go of the knife. Before she struck, she had to be sure Doctor Reeve had taken her to Mark. The boot popped open. Cold air rushed in, stinging her eyes. She caught a glimpse of the star-spangled dome of the night sky. Then Doctor Reeve loomed into view. ‘Out,’ he said, pointing the gun at her.
Angel uncoiled herself from the boot. The car was parked on an unlit lane bordered by hedgerows and fields. The encircling darkness was dense, but not complete. Over Doctor Reeve’s shoulder, maybe a mile away, the lights of a busy road flickered brightly.
The psychiatrist’s breath quivered and his eyes gleamed as though he was working himself up to something.
I was wrong
, thought Angel.
He intends to kill me himself.
Then she noticed the barn. It was a windowless, one-storey building of wood and corrugated iron set a few metres back from the lane. Light seeped from around the edges of double doors.
No, I was right. Someone’s waiting in there, waiting to kill me.
Doctor Reeve motioned towards the barn. ‘Move.’
Angel approached the doors, her heart beating fast, her footsteps dragging, her head a whirl of uncertainty. Should she make her move now or wait until she was inside? There was no way she could be a hundred per cent sure Mark was in the barn unless she waited. But by then she would almost certainly have to tackle two men at once, and her chances of success, already slim, would be reduced to virtually zero.
‘This is the end of the line for you, Grace,’ said Doctor Reeve.
That decided Angel. If she was going to do anything, it had to be now. She pulled out the knife and turned to face the psychiatrist. His eyes widened momentarily, then a smile of cruel amusement spread across his lips. ‘And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?’
‘I’m going to kill you.’
‘Only if you can dodge bullets.’ Doctor Reeve pulled the Glock’s trigger. Nothing happened.
In the blink of an eye, Angel covered the few paces between them. Doctor Reeve just had time to let out the first note of a scream before she sunk the knife deep into his throat. ‘Not too clever, are you?’ she spat, wrenching the knife out and lodging it between his ribs.
Doctor Reeve swung the gun at Angel, catching her a glancing blow to the head. The gun span out of his grasp, clattering to the ground several metres away. With the knife still in him, he pushed past Angel and staggered towards the barn, emitting a gurgling, wheezing sound from his throat.
Angel dove for the gun. She snatched it up at the same moment the psychiatrist began hammering his palms against the barn. One of the doors scraped open. Light flooded out, framing a powerfully built man in black military-style fatigues and a bomber jacket. The man had dark brown hair and eyes. She’d never seen him before in her life. In his gloved hands, he held a handgun.
Angel flicked off the safety catch, took aim and fired. The first shot hit Doctor Reeve in the shoulder. He twirled like a crazed dancer before he fell. The second hit the man, punching him onto his back.
Warily, Angel got to her feet and approached the doorway. The psychiatrist was lying on his side, limbs flung out at odd angles. He didn’t appear to be breathing. His accomplice lay unmoving too, his eyes closed. A wisp of smoke rose from a bullet hole in his chest. The impact had knocked the gun from his hand onto the bonnet of a black Range Rover. Next to the four-by-four was an inconspicuous little red car. And slumped on the floor beside the car was a figure in a dressing-gown with a cloth bag over their head.
Mark!
The name rang out in her mind, but instead of relief it brought gut-twisting anxiety. He was here, but was he alive? The bandages had been cut away from his shoulder, exposing a bloody mess of torn stitches.
Oh God, let him be alive. Please let him be alive.
The plea filled Angel’s mind as she stooped to retrieve the knife from Doctor Reeve’s body, then darted to Mark’s side. She removed the bag, revealing eyes wide and blinking with fear. The fear faded to uncertainty as the eyes took in Angel’s relieved expression. She peeled the duct tape away from his mouth. He spat out a rag and gasped, ‘Grace?’
Angel wanted to say,
No
, but she made herself nod. ‘You’re safe. Everything’s going—’ She broke off. She’d been about to say,
Everything’s going to be OK.
But that would have been a lie. Everything was not going to be OK. Not now. Not ever. Her eyes dropped away from Mark’s.
He groaned as she started sawing at the plastic handcuffs. When the knife cut through the cuffs, his right arm dropped to his side and hung there like a dead thing. He examined the red welts where the cuffs had bitten into his wrists, slowly flexing the life back into his left hand.
‘Can you walk?’ asked Angel.
‘I think so.’
Angel helped Mark to his feet. With him leaning heavily on her, they made their way to the doors. ‘I was right,’ Mark exclaimed upon seeing Doctor Reeve. ‘He is one of them.’
Them.
The way Mark’s mouth twisted on the word made it clear to Angel who he was referring to. She jerked her chin at the other man. ‘Who’s he?’
‘He called himself PC Stone.’
‘Well I’d say it’s a fair bet that’s not his real name. Let’s see if he’s got any ID.’
Angel rifled through PC Stone’s pockets but came up empty-handed. She turned her attention to Doctor Reeve, remembering that he had Herbert’s book. She reached into one of his trouser pockets and pulled out a bunch of keys. At that instant, PC Stone’s eyes flicked open.
‘Watch out!’ cried Mark, but his warning came too late.
PC Stone grabbed the Glock and twisted it from Angel’s grasp. His other hand drove deep into her stomach. She crumpled, breath whistling through her teeth. PC Stone righted the gun in his hand and swung it towards her.
‘No!’ shouted Mark, kicking the gun out of PC Stone’s grip. It skittered away underneath the Range Rover. He snatched the broken spoon out of his sling and stabbed it at PC Stone’s left eye. His aim was good, but there was little strength behind the blow. The sharp plastic tip pierced the eyeball, but didn’t push through it into the brain behind. PC Stone screamed, clutching at the spoon and flinging it aside. Tears of blood spilled from his eye. In an attempt to stem them, he pressed his palm against the wound. His other hand groped for the gun.
Mark pulled weakly at Angel. ‘Come on.’
Still winded, she pushed herself to her feet. Leaning against each other like wounded soldiers, Mark and Angel staggered away from the barn. ‘Can you drive?’ she gasped as they neared the Audi.
‘Yes, but you’ll have to work the gears. I can’t move my right arm, so I’ll have to steer with my left.’
Angel stopped suddenly, muttering, ‘Fuck.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The book. I’ve got to go back for it.’
‘What book? What are you talking about?’
Angel started to turn towards the barn, but Mark grabbed her arm. ‘You’re crazy. You can’t go back there.’
‘I have to!’
Angel jerked her arm free, sending Mark stumbling to his knees. At that instant, the crack of a gunshot echoed through the night. PC Stone emerged from the barn, swaying like a drunkard, gun in hand. Angel threw herself towards the Audi as a second shot rang out. Sparks flashed off the bonnet. She yanked open the door and dived across the driver’s seat. Mark crawled in behind her. ‘Where are the keys?’ His voice was loud and panicked.
Angel thrust them at him. Staying hunched low, he put the car in gear. Then he reached across himself to start the engine. Another shot. The rear passenger window exploded, spraying glass over them. Mark pressed down hard on the accelerator. The front wheels span and screeched, but the car didn’t move.
‘The handbrake!’ cried Angel. ‘Release the fucking handbrake!’
Mark did so and the car lurched forward, climbing a verge and hitting a hedge. He wrenched the steering-wheel leftwards and the car veered back into the lane. A fourth shot sounded, the bullet thunking into the back of the car. Then they rounded a bend and the barn was hidden from view.
‘We did it!’ Mark laughed shrilly, a wave of euphoria rushing through him. ‘We fucking got away.’
‘We’re not home free yet,’ warned Angel. ‘He’s got a car, remember?’
Mark’s eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. There was no sign of pursuit. ‘He won’t come after us. Not with his eye all messed up.’ He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying.
They were on a long, straight stretch of road that cut between hedgerows overhung with trees. A mile or two in the distance streetlights marked the outskirts of a built-up area. ‘Where are we?’ asked Mark.
‘No idea.’ Angel hugged her arms across her stomach as though she was cold, her forehead gathered into deep furrows. ‘I shot him in the chest. Why wasn’t he dead?’
‘Maybe he was wearing a bullet-proof vest.’
Angel nodded, knowing Mark must be right. She hugged herself tighter, exhaling a strangled groan of despair. She’d lost the Glock. Even worse, she’d lost the little black book. She had no way of tracking down the Chief Bastard. It was over. Everything was over! The Chief Bastard would remain unpunished and free to continue destroying children’s lives. Her face twitched with tormented, impotent rage at the thought. It flashed through her mind to tell Mark to pull over and let her out so she could return to the barn. It would be little more than a suicide mission, but it would be better to die that way than to live with the knowledge that she’d failed.
The engine flared and cold air whipped in through the shattered window as Mark put on a burst of speed.
‘What is it?’ asked Angel.
‘I thought I saw headlights in the mirror.’
Angel twisted to look out of the rear window. There was no sign of following headlights. Maybe Mark’s fear was making him see things that weren’t there. Or maybe their pursuer had cut his vehicle’s lights. She realised with a leaden thump of her heart that she couldn’t leave Mark, not until she was sure he was safe.
But where’s safe?
she wondered.
The hospital? The police station?