The Iron in Blood Page 6

CHAPTER 6

  Rebecca

  I woke earlier than usual that day, and I felt a kind of whimsical satisfaction when I put the alarm off before it could start screeching at me. Mum was already up, of course, and I went downstairs to have breakfast with her. We sat at the table in companionable silence until it was time for her to go. She hugged me as she left, wishing me good luck for the encounter with Mr Parker. I thanked her and kissed her cheek, and then she was gone.

  I had a leisurely shower, and stood ironing my school uniform in my terrycloth bathrobe, listening to Radio 1and humming a kind of off-tune accompaniment to a few songs. Mark eventually stuck his head around the corner and grimaced at me, so I shut up. No point torturing people at this time of morning. Not even brothers.

  I dressed, tied up my hair and brushed my teeth, and stood waiting for Mark to get ready. I had to confess – I was nervous. School was going to be so much more of an ordeal than usual today, and I needed his comforting presence. Plus he could stop me if I decided to bite somebody’s neck. Ha ha.

  We walked the mile or so to school with Harry, who had arrived a bit earlier than usual too, and had grunted a kind of greeting. Harry was a strange one sometimes. It was almost like he was evolving backwards. Speech, now grunting. I imagined him knuckling about and hooting, and I chuckled.

  We arrived at the school gates at ten minutes to nine, and I was hanging about just outside them, apprehensive about going inside and facing the day. Then out of nowhere a white van drove up, and three guys in balaclavas sprang out. I turned to face them, surprised at the screeching brakes and sudden activity behind me. I should have run, but I didn’t. I guess I wasn’t expecting them to grab my arms and twist them behind my back, and lift me bodily into the yawning cavity of the van. The door slid slamming into place behind us and the van took off, all revving engine and squealing tyres. I didn’t even have time to scream.

  The men worked fast, cuffing my hands behind my back and wrapping cable ties around my ankles. They draped a pillowcase over my head, and then they shoved me in a corner of the van and left me to my growing terror.

  Mark

  They came out of nowhere. I was standing about ten yards away from her, talking to Harry, when that van slammed on brakes, and those three men in balaclavas snatched my sister off the pavement, while we all stood watching in open-mouthed astonishment. Then they were gone, the tyres of the van swirling in a cloud of smoke. I tried to make out the number plate, but there was none. Make of van? I wasn’t sure. Maybe a Ford Courier, or something like that. They all looked the same to me. I tried to remember its general shape so I could maybe try and identify it later if the police asked me. Police! I hauled out my mobile phone and dialled 999, and waited for seven long rings before I was put through to a bored operator who promised to send a couple of officers around to talk to us. Talk! I felt the panic rising in my throat. I had to do something. I glanced frantically around me at all the shocked blank faces, seeing no help there. Who could I call? Mum? No. She would lose her mind there and then. I couldn’t do that to her. Let the police do that. And that’s when I thought of Angus.

  I took one last look at the other students milling about, and then I started running.

  Angus

  I’d been awake since three in the morning. I woke up feeling refreshed, but there was something bothering me, though I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. I had breakfast and fed the cat, and then settled down to read. I read a lot of books. It helped to pass the time. Reading books had also taught the three us how to behave more or less normally. About as normally as we could behave, I suppose.

  It had just gone nine when somebody started hammering on my door. When I opened the door and saw Mark’s white face and touched the fear in his mind, I was stunned.

  “You’d better come in,” I said.

  Mark

  It was almost as if he knew what I was about to tell him before I actually told him. His jaw was clenched, his mouth drawn in an angry line, and his eyes burned black.

  “Rebecca’s been kidnapped. Three guys in balaclavas jumped out of a white van just outside the school gates and grabbed her. They stuck her in the van, and off they went. No number plate. Generic looking white van, no markings. I called the police and they said they’d send someone to investigate, but I didn’t wait for them. They’d take too long. And then I thought of telling you.” I was babbling, my voice rising in alarm. I looked up at Angus’expression, at the rage that had settled there as if it belonged, and wondered if I’d done the right thing. He stood frozen for a few more seconds and then suddenly he was moving, snatching his mobile off a cabinet and punching numbers like the phone itself annoyed him.

  “Fergus,” he barked into the phone. “Somebody’s taken Rebecca. White unmarked van, three guys in balaclavas, really smooth pick up, they’ve probably done it before. I’m going after them. I’ll contact you if I need anything.” He smiled grimly at whatever his brother said to him, and then he hung up.

  “Let’s go,” he said to me. “You need to show me where she was when they took her.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves of an expensive looking leather jacket, and dropped his phone into one of the pockets. Then he unlocked the top drawer of the wooden cabinet and started filling his pockets with objects that I couldn’t quite identify, but which mostly looked dangerous and highly illegal. He locked the cabinet drawer again, pocketed the key, and took a small tub of tablets from the second drawer, which he opened, revealing brown tablets. He counted fifteen out into his hand and swallowed them all in one go. He put the tub in one of his pockets too. I stood motionless, watching this frenetic activity, and then suddenly he was stalking towards the door, car keys in hand.

  “Come!” he barked. I jumped at the sound, and followed him obediently out of the house. He was in his car and firing up that colossal engine before I’d even opened the door. I yanked the passenger door open and dived in just as the car started moving off.

  We got to the school before the police did, of course. I had just managed to click my seatbelt into place, when I had to unclick the damn thing again. There was nobody around; the bell had sounded and everyone had disappeared into their classrooms, business as usual. I felt a sudden surge of anger at their apparent lack of concern.

  “Where?” asked Angus as he slid out of his seat in one easy movement. I scrambled out, and pointed out where Rebecca had been standing when they had taken her. Angus didn’t bother looking around. He just stood there, his face white and composed now, and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. Five seconds. Then he was moving again, sliding back into the driver’s seat, and gunning the engine. I managed to get my backside on the seat as the car pulled off, the door closing automatically behind me with the sudden lurching motion.

  Angus looked at me with blank eyes as if he’d never seen me before. Then he braked suddenly. “You can’t come with me,” he said harshly.

  I don’t know where I got the courage from, but I huddled down in my seat, clutching the seatbelt around me, and muttered, “I’m not getting out.” I must have been mad.

  Angus’ eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched again, and I thought for a second that he was actually going to physically throw me out, but then he nodded. “Right.” And then we were moving again, weaving briskly in and out of the rapidly clearing traffic. There was a pause in our progress as we waited at a red traffic light. Angus punched in a number on the iphone, turned it to speaker mode, and thrust it into my hands. “Hold this.”

  It rang twice, and then a brisk voice answered. “What’s happening?”

  “She was taken by a vampire and two human males. Vampire’s pretty old, probably one hundred and fifty or more. He lives on blood only, not human, probably animal. So he’s strong for a human, but in pretty poor shape for one of us. The human males are in their thirties and in very good shape. They’re armed. Heavily. This looks like it was an organised kidnapping, and the coincidence is too great. One vampire kidnapping another? They must know w
hat she is. How did they find her, Fergus?”

  “I’ll find out. What else do you need?”

  “I’m heading north. I need you locate their base. This looks like it’s one of those groups of old style vampires that we didn’t think existed anymore.” I heard another voice swearing in the background. Angus smiled tightly. “You can’t always be right, Marcus.” More swearing.

  “There will be things you can start looking for, Fergus. They will have a fairly large base, in an isolated area. It’ll be colder than the rest of the country.”

  He paused. “I’m going to need to use our estate in Aberdeenshire.”

  “It’s yours. I’ll notify the housekeeper.”

  Another pause. We were moving again by this stage. Angus drove effortlessly, as if he didn’t need to think about it at all.

  “Fergus. Look for patterns. Increased percentage of missing persons, not recent, but spanning the last century and a half. Recent disappearances would be in the indigent population, beggars, prostitutes, homeless people. Vampires are not always stupid, especially if they’ve survived this long.”

  “Got it. Anything else?”

  “There will be an abbatoir nearby. Medium to large size. That’s probably where he’s getting the blood. He drinks a lot of it.” He paused, looked sideways at me, and continued. “I’m going to need some equipment.”

  “Shoot.”

  Another grim smile. “Indeed. Two Glock 17’s, two hundred rounds - hollow point preferably. Ballistic vest. And a Heckler and Koch PSG1 with two hundred rounds and a couple of spare magazines. I’ll be arriving in Aberdeenshire in, say, five and a half hours. Can you arrange for all that to be delivered to the estate by then?”

  “Could be a bit complicated. The UK is not the best place for firearm purchases. Especially the rifle.”

  “Can you do it?” Angus sounded impatient.

  “Yes. Probably.”

  “You flying now?”

  “We’re in the air at the moment, but I’ll try and redirect us to a more northerly airport. If you think you could use the help.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Yeah.” Click and they were gone.

  Rebecca

  Of course I was scared. At first. The van rocked and swayed, and I bumped my head a few times against its raw metal insides. My head hurt for a few moments, but then the pain subsided and I learned to sway with the motion of the vehicle instead of trying to brace myself against it. It was a minor accomplishment, but to me, sitting there with my hands and feet tied and a mouldy smelling pillowcase over my head, it felt like a lot more than that.

  There was something hypnotic about the sheer concentration required to move with a rocking van, especially if your other senses are muffled. I stopped being afraid after a while. Nobody seemed to be trying to hurt me; I was being ignored with a capital I.

  Then someone spoke. Male voice, older adult, gruff, like maybe he smoked a lot.

  “Pull over. We need to reattach the number plate.”

  “There’s a lay by up ahead.” Another male voice. Maybe younger than the first. “Watch the girl.” The van slowed, and stopped. One of the front doors opened, and a sudden tilt in the floor I sat on signalled that someone had climbed out. A few minutes later the floor tilted again, and a front door closed. The van started moving again. It took a few moments for the implications of what had happened to hit me. No number plate. I had been kidnapped in a generic white van with no distinguishing markings and no number plate. How was anybody going to be able to find me?

  I was suddenly and paralysingly scared again.

  Angus

  I know I should have insisted that Mark get out at the school. I didn’t, though. I’m not sure exactly why I let him tag along. It could have had something to do with the images that flashed across my mind as he sat cowering defiantly in that seat. Images of me having to drive for hours with my rage my only companion, trying not to imagine what they were doing to Rebecca with every passing minute. I knew I would have to keep a level head, or as level as was possible for me. Mark could help me do that. He would have to help me do that.

  Mark

  About half an hour into the journey or trip or pursuit or whatever you wanted to call it, I started worrying. About my mother and how she would be spinning out about Rebecca’s kidnapping. And maybe they’d have realised that I’d disappeared too. I would have to contact Mum, and let her know that I was OK, and that I was with Angus and we were trying to find my sister, the needle, in a great big British haystack. Maybe not.

  I looked across at Angus. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his face looked like it had been carved from marble, or some sort of more angular stone.

  I had questions, but I also had doubts. Angus looked like he was about to snap something in half, and I didn’t want that something to be me.

  I stared out of the windscreen at the greys and browns of the wintry English countryside blurring past. We were heading north on the M6 motorway, averaging about eighty to one hundred miles per hour. Why north? My sister was missing and Angus was heading north? I didn’t get it.

  “Why are we going north?” My voice sounded tentative and nervous in my own ears. Angus looked across at me and smiled tightly again.

  “I was waiting for the questions.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No.”

  I waited a few seconds and the asked my question again. “Why north?”

  “Two reasons. Firstly it’s a lot less heavily populated. Secondly vampires like the cold. They function best in a temperature range of between minus five and ten degrees. Celsius. That’s why my brothers live in Russia.”

  “How do you know it’s a vampire that’s got her?”

  “I smelled him. And two other guys. Probably military background. They both reeked of gun oil, and one smokes a lot.”

  “How did you get all that from sniffing the air for a few seconds?” I was impressed. And not quite believing it all.

  “I have an excellent sense of smell. If Fergus can get me within five miles of them, I’ll be able to track them down using smell alone.”

  “Cool.”

  Angus smiled again. “Yeah.”

  “And you know the vampire drinks blood only. What does that mean?”

  “He’ll be weaker than one of us. He’s feeding his addiction to iron, and not his body. So he won’t have much in the way of muscle left, but he’ll still be stronger than you humans. Especially after a big dose of blood. And I know that he drinks blood only because I can smell it on him. That and the stink of his slowly atrophying tissues.”

  “Yuk.”

  “Yes. But it’s a very distinctive smell. Easy tracking.”

  I waited for a minute or so before asking the question that had been bothering me for a while.

  “Why did they take Rebecca?”

  The knuckles whitened even more, but his voice was controlled when he spoke. “I don’t know. There are a couple of possibilities.”

  He paused, and took a few deep breaths.

  “Firstly, they might not know that she’s a vampire. Young female abduction; she’d be raped or murdered or both.”

  I felt sick. Angus spoke again, managing to keep his tone level.

  “Or they do know that she’s a vampire. That is the most likely scenario, and that means a whole different set of options. They might want her to join them, as a part of their community,” he spat the word. “As a breeding female.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “She’d never stand for that.”

  “She might not have a choice. She has a major vulnerability that they can exploit. She needs iron, high doses on a daily basis. If they withhold that from her, she could become weak, and almost die. She wouldn’t have a choice, Mark. They would force her.” His voice had become gravelly, as if he was having trouble controlling his emotions. I knew how he felt.

  Rebecca

  I forced myself to concentrate on breathing deeply and swaying with t
he van again. It took me a while, but I eventually calmed the acute panic down. The van must have moved onto a motorway, because the swaying all but stopped, and the speed increased. Fast but not too fast. It made sense that they wouldn’t go faster than the speed limit. They wouldn’t want to run the risk of being pulled over.

  I leaned back against the nearest surface and adjusted my position slightly. My limbs were starting to ache slightly with the forced inactivity, and unnatural positions that they had been tied in. I felt a fleeting irritation with these people. I wanted to make them pay. Eventually.

  I started thinking about escaping. I was no expert on kidnapping, but these guys appeared to be careful. Taking a number plate off for doing the deed and then putting it back on afterwards. Cunning. They were unlikely to take any unnecessary risks. Crap.

  Then it occurred to me. I had a bit of an advantage over these people. I could metabolise iron, and if Angus was right, a big dose of iron would make me tremendously and invincibly strong. I smiled under my smelly pillowcase, imagining tearing these idiots apart, and escaping back to my family. And to Angus.

  All that was missing in my plan was a massive dose of iron. As I started wondering how to get hold of it, I realised that all my fear had evaporated, and I felt slightly triumphant. Score one for the girl.

  Angus

  Mark was a welcome distraction, except that he asked the wrong questions. Why had they taken Rebecca? I didn’t even like to think for a split second about what they would do to her.

  But something else had crossed my mind as I was speaking to him. If there was a group of iron metabolisers out there somewhere who lived on blood, they would look strange. I had built up a mental picture of the vampire from his smell – thin, maybe even emaciated. Parchment-like skin. Tired looking face, dark rings around the eyes. Like any junkie with an all-consuming addiction.

  Someone who looked like that would need to hide, and stay hidden. And if there were a group of them, they would need a cover story to explain their reluctance to be seen in public. And they would need servants who would have to be fed that cover story, and who would swallow it. The servants would be in daily contact with them, and would eventually have to see them as they were. What kind of cover story could render the horror of a collection of crumbling vampires normal? Well, maybe not normal, but believable. And maybe even pitiable, so it would be frowned upon to talk about them too much. Hmmm.

  “Phone.”

  Mark grabbed it off the dash, and handed it to me. I dialled Fergus again, switched on the speakerphone function, and handed the phone to Mark. He held it obediently.

  Two rings and Fergus answered. “Got your arsenal, brother. It’s on its way as we speak.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Estate’s yours too. Housekeepers’ sorting it out now. I think she’s even going to make you supper. She’ll leave it in the fridge, of course. You’ll have the place to yourself when you get there. We’re diverting to Glasgow airport. Well be arriving at the estate sometime around midnight.”

  “Fergus, we need to consider the possibility that these vampires aren’t living in complete isolation. They could be blending in under some kind of believable cover story. I want you to locate private hospices, especially those dealing with rare diseases.”

  “Right.”

  “And look for unexplained violent or animal related deaths around one hundred plus years ago. Transport wouldn’t have been as good, so that kind of search will probably reveal more of their whereabouts than a more recent one.”

  “Tricky.”

  “Yeah, but you’re good at tricky.”

  “Thanks, brother. Later.”

  Rebecca

  Iron, hmmm. I’d left the iron tablets behind that Angus had given me. Even if I had them, say, in a pocket, there was no way I could open that tub and take some out and swallow them with my hands tied behind my back. And even if these guys untied me, they’d never sit by and let me swallow a bunch of tablets. They would want me alive and conscious for what they were planning, I bet. Whatever that was. I tried not to think of it, but concentrated on my plan.

  There was no help for it. I would have to bite the neck of one of these guys. And drink their blood. The decision didn’t repulse me as much as it probably should have.

  I would wait for the opportunity. There’s a lot of iron in blood.

  And these guys had it coming.

  Mark

  Something had been bothering me since Angus’ first conversation with his brother Fergus. Well, something else. There were too many things on my mind for me to really notice this one until I’d had some time to think it through. Once a question occurred to me, I just had to know.

  “So how does someone like you know so much about guns and stuff?”

  Angus chuckled. “Guns and stuff,” he mused. “It’s a long story.”

  I said nothing. I was learning from an expert.

  “I’ve been in the armed forces for quite a large proportion of my fifty-nine years,” he said eventually. Every time I heard how old he really was, my mind started lurching around like a drunk. He really didn’t look more than twenty. Twenty five if you really pushed it.

  “I couldn’t stay in any one place for more than, say, five years. People start noticing that you’re not getting older. I started off in the British military, the SAS, and worked my way across Europe. I spent a few years in Africa too. I ended up working for the FBI in the states until I retired about four years ago.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  “Because it wasn’t what I had expected when I started. I realised fairly soon after my father died that I needed an outlet for my, er, violent tendencies. I joined the armed forces, thinking that I’d be able to hurt deserving people in a disciplined, controlled way. It didn’t work like that, though. You didn’t get to hurt anyone. You learned about guns and knives and unarmed combat, but you couldn’t hurt anyone until you were actually in the battlefield. Those were quiet years, and I spent five and a half years learning to curb my frustration. It taught me that much at least, I suppose.”

  “But surely you liked the unarmed combat bit?”

  Angus laughed humourlessly. “Rolling around on the floor with some idiot, pretending to fight him off? No.” He paused, and then he turned to look at me, his expression grim. “I can crush your neck with one hand, Mark, without even lifting the other off the steering wheel here. I can break that massive bone in your thigh by just squeezing it. I could thrust my hand through your ribs and into your thoracic cavity and rip your beating heart out.” Expressionless, like he was reading the weather.

  I shuddered. I wasn’t much liking the direction this conversation had taken.

  “So, you see, I spent all that time in unarmed combat training sessions fighting myself. Trying not to hurt those men. It wasn’t fun.”

  “Why the FBI?” Change the subject.

  “The idea of the bad guy going after the bad guy appealed to me.” He waited a few minutes before continuing.

  “I killed a man when I was seventeen. He was setting traps out in the countryside where we grew up, and when I confronted him, he laughed at me. He was a big man, see, and he thought that he would easily be able to fight a teenager off. That laugh, and the derision and contempt behind it; that enraged me. I’d killed him before I even realised what I was doing.”

  His face hardened. “Afterwards, when I was standing over his broken body, I waited for the shame and remorse to wash over me. It never came. The only thing I felt was satisfaction. I realised then that there was something profoundly wrong with me.”

  I said nothing, because there was nothing to say.

  “Marcus explained that my reaction had a biological basis, that it would make sense for those of us who had to survive on blood to not feel remorse when we killed. It made no difference to me. Biological basis or not, I was still a monster. Just before my father died, I swore to him that I would tame that monster. I have, to a degree, but I still know what I am
, and what I am capable of.”

  “Funny thing is,” he smiled wistfully, “my father always refused to believe me, that I was capable of such things. When I promised to tame my monster, he told me I already had, just by acknowledging its existence, and resolving not to succumb to it.”

  “It’s not that easy, though. Sometimes that beast rears its ugly head whether I want it to or not.” He paused again and then he turned his head to look at me, a wry, sad smile on his face. “I’ve got a feeling we might see it tonight.”

  Rebecca

  My anger grew with my discomfort. It’s amazing, but once I’d stopped feeling so helpless, once I’d realised that there was a way that I could escape from this situation, I stopped being afraid. The fact that I was going to have to kill one of these morons was an added bonus, of course.

  We had been driving for what felt like hours. Then somebody started speaking.

  “Jack,” said the voice, harsh and dry sounding. “I have a present for you.” The tone was wheedling, and I didn’t like the lascivious way he said present. I wondered who this Jack was, and what the present was. Then I realised that I was supposed to be the present. Gross.

  “It’s a young female.” Pause. “Yes, I’m pretty sure she’s one of us.” Pause. “Someone posted a video clip on youtube of her hitting someone’s nose. Her expression when she saw the blood on her hand! She was hungry, Jack.”

  Damn. They knew I was a vampire and that’s how they’d found me. I resolved to find the person who had posted that footage and hurt them. I was still dwelling on this when the pillowcase was suddenly tugged off my head, and the mobile pointed at me. Click. The bastard had taken a photograph of me. I watched as he smiled to himself, and pressed a few buttons on the phone, sending my image through cyberspace and to the waiting phone of Jack, whoever that was. I studied the speaker with narrowed eyes. He looked awful, like he had some kind of nasty wasting disease. Skinny, with dry mottled skin and bony hands and face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He glanced up at me and his deep set eyes shone with triumph.

  Angus

  It was dark when we finally reached the estate. I felt an overwhelming nostalgia as I drove through the gates, and down the tree lined drive. I was born here, and I’d grown up in the house that loomed ahead. I had spent much of my relatively carefree childhood running through these woods that surrounded us, playing assorted childhood games that all involved improvised weapons, improbable plots and long, drawn out chase scenes. Such a long time ago.

  Mark hadn’t said much since I’d told him about killing that trapper when I was seventeen. I had wondered if he had been repulsed or afraid, so I had reached briefly into his mind. I was surprised by what I sensed. No shock or horror at all. Instead there was acceptance and understanding and even compassion. He was definitely older than his fourteen years. I knew then that bringing him had not been a mistake. He reminded me of my humanity, or what there was of it. When Fergus tracked those vampires down, and sent me the information I needed, I knew I would have to leave Mark behind here. I couldn’t let him see what I was going to do.

  The old stone house looked welcoming, even after all these years. I hadn’t been back here in decades. There was more ivy growing up the walls than there had been the last time I’d been here, but other than that it looked the same. Timeless. Fergus had made sure that someone had always looked after the place.

  The heavy wooden front door was unlocked, and we walked into the warmly lit front room. There was a fire burning in the grate, flanked by two elderly leather armchairs, and Mark made a beeline for it and held his hands out. It was colder here than down south in England, but I felt invigorated by the frosty air. Mark just felt cold, I suppose.

  I showed him briefly around the house, turning up the central heating along the way. He dived into the fridge as soon as we entered the oversized kitchen, and hauled out the roast the housekeeper had left for us. I left him to dish up, and went to look for my packages. I found them in a shed near the front door of the house. I carried them indoors to the kitchen where Mark was already chewing on a hunk of roast beef.

  “I thought you were a vegetarian,” I teased him.

  “Nah, Mum’s a vegetarian. We just go along with it for her. I’ve eaten meat before. Delicious.” He smiled happily.

  I lifted the wrapped packages onto the big oak table in the middle of the kitchen.

  “I’m just going to check these out, make sure they work.”

  “Sure,” Mark nodded, too busy carving the roast to look up. “Potatoes?”

  “Please.”

  I unwrapped the largest of the three parcels, and lifted the Heckler and Koch sniper rifle out of its protective cocoon of bubble wrap. It was in good condition. Not brand new, but looked after, like somebody had appreciated it. It was a weapon I had used many times in Germany; it was reliable and accurate, and could fire up to twenty rounds without having to be reloaded. I would have to check that it was in working order in a few minutes, and line up the scope. I had a laser in my pocket for that purpose, and a few shots in the countryside were likely to go unnoticed. The second largest package contained the rounds for the rifle, as well as those for the handguns. Hollow tipped, like I’d requested. I thought of them splitting apart on impact and exploding through the soft inner organs of Rebecca’s kidnappers, and I smiled to myself.

  The Glocks were in the smaller package, also used, but in good condition. The ballistic vest was top of the range. I was touched by Fergus’ thoughtfulness. I would test all the firearms after I’d eaten. As I ate my supper and watched Marks wide eyes drift over the weapons laid out on the table, I wondered what progress Fergus was making.

  Rebecca

  My arms were really aching by the time the van finally lurched to a standstill. And I needed to pee.

  It was dark outside, but as the guy with the gruff voice grabbed my left arm and lifted me out of my huddled position in the back of the van, I was able to make out some kind of artificial light source coming from somewhere nearby. A building, maybe. I was flung unceremoniously over the gruff man’s shoulder, compressing my already uncomfortably distended bladder. I concentrated for a few seconds on trying to control the urge to pee, and then I gave up and peed all over my kidnapper. Serve him right. He swore and I giggled. He swore some more.

  It was strange, really. A part of me was afraid, but I was also enjoying the anger that pulsed through me. I wondered if Angus felt like this all the time. Just thinking of him made my heart leap. I had spent a lot of time thinking in that grubby van. And what I had been thinking about most was Angus, and the way he looked and felt and smelled. It struck me after a while that the thought of never seeing my mother or Mark or Joe again saddened me. But the thought of never seeing Angus again wrenched my soul. I suppose it was time to admit that I was insanely in love with him. Rubbish timing, obviously, but I couldn’t help that.

  I looked around as best I could while I was being carried. His hip got in the way, but I was able to make out a large building. It looked like some sort of institution, like a hospital maybe, or a home for the elderly. There was a ramp for wheelchairs leading up to the front door. Weird place to take a kidnap victim.

  My captor turned before he reached the entrance and headed out towards the right side of the building. I squinted to see where he was heading. I could just make out what looked like an old stone barn. Great. Isolated and draughty. A much more suitable place to detain a prisoner.

  The barn was lit by a solitary bulb that dangled from higher up in the recesses of the barn roof. There were sacks of compost stacked against one wall, and a row of rusting gardening implements along another. Gruff man stopped suddenly, and I saw his companion struggling with a large trapdoor in the floor. It had been cunningly hidden under a few empty bags and some dirt. He lifted the trapdoor, revealing old stone stairs leading downwards. A torch flickered into life in his hand and they both started down those stairs, reluctantly but inevitably accompanied by me.


  Mark

  The call came just after six thirty. Angus was outside, checking that the guns worked properly, or something like that. I picked up the phone and carried it outside, still ringing. Angus appeared like a ghost out of nowhere in seconds. He pressed a button on the phone and said, “Yes, Fergus. What have you got?”

  “There are two possibles. The more likely one is about fifty miles from where you are now. There’s a privately funded care home for people with some degenerative neurological disorder. The reason I’m a bit suspicious of it is that Marcus tells me that people with this disorder rarely live beyond five years at the most. Some of the people in this place have been there twenty years and up.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Indeed. There were a few unexplained and deeply suspicious deaths in that vicinity in the late 1800’s.”

  “What’s the address?”

  Fergus read out the name of the place, and the postal code. I knew Angus would be able to punch that into his satnav. Easier than tracking by smell.

  “How many residents?”

  “Eleven. The staff appear to have evenings off. Strictly nine to five working hours.”

  “Auxiliary staff?”

  “Nothing registered. But cash can still buy you an army.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look after yourself, brother.” Click. This family were clearly not big on the whole hello and goodbye thing.

  I looked up into Angus’ hardening face, and I was suddenly afraid for my friend. He was a good man, whether he chose to believe it or not, and I didn’t want him to die tonight.

  Rebecca

  They dumped me in what looked like an old fashioned dungeon, and slammed the solid wooden door shut. Massive iron bars appeared to have grown out of the stone floor and into the thick beams in the ceiling. My cell was about three feet by five feet, dusty, with a rough wooden bench along the far wall. I stood with my back to the bars as ordered while one of my captors sliced through the cable ties around my wrists and ankles. As soon as they had freed me from my restraints, they stepped away from the bars. I turned to watch them as I massaged my wrists and stretched my arms out. They were leaning against the wall farthest from my cell. Clearly taking no chances. What a shame. I sat down on the bench and leaned my back against the rough stone wall.

  “Oscar’s been wrong before.” The gruff man smiled evilly at me, although he was clearly talking to his colleague.

  “Yeah, that was fun. She was a bit of a screamer, though. But nobody can hear screams through this lot,” he pointed at the ceiling. “It’s soundproof, baby.” He sneered the last word at me.

  I wondered if they were trying to frighten me. It wasn’t working. I was visualising one of them coming into my cell, and me leaping up at them and sinking my teeth into the soft exposed flesh of their neck, and gulping down the sweet and salty blood that pulsed out of the torn flesh. I shuddered with pleasure at the thought.

  “I think he’s right about this one, though. She doesn’t look as frightened as she should. She’s giving me the creeps.”

  Damn, my cover was blown. Well at least they’d stay away from me now.

  “Man, you stink.”

  “She pissed all over me.” Gruff man sounded gruffer than ever. I grinned.

  “Wait ‘till Jack gets here, sweetie. He’ll wipe that smile right off your pretty little face.”

  I sniffed in his general direction, and grinned wider, letting the anger and hunger seep into my eyes.

  They stared warily at me and said nothing.

  Mark

  It took Angus about ten minutes to get the car loaded up. He put the guns in the boot, except for one of the pistols, which he loaded and shoved in his belt. He strapped the vest on over his shirt, and pulled the leather jacket on over that. He looked over at me as he was sliding into the driver’s seat, and he nodded.

  “Thanks, Mark.”

  And then he was gone in a swirl of mud and roaring engine. I wondered what he was thanking me for. He was the one rescuing my sister, after all. He was helping me.

  I shut the door, and sat down in one of the ancient leather armchairs by the fire to wait. It was going to be a long night.