Brutal, page 23
Another pause, and then another tiny tap. About to speak again, Frank changed his mind and rushed back to his room when he heard footsteps in the hall.
Nick strolled into the doorway a few seconds later and shook his head as he eyed the blood.
‘What a mess, eh? You’d think the fat fuck’d have a bit more consideration, considering how long he’s been waiting to get another shot at our Reeny. But that’s Arabs for you. No fuckin’ manners.’
Sick to his stomach, Frank didn’t reply; he just grabbed a corner of the sheet and started tugging it off. When Nick pulled the door shut and locked it, Frank tossed the ruined sheet into the corner. The blood had soaked through to the mattress beneath, so he covered it with the towel before putting the clean sheet over it. His pillows and quilt had been dumped on the chair, so he propped the pillows against the headboard to cover the blood, and threw the quilt over the sheet.
Glad that the heating was still on, because he was shivering from head to toe, Frank lay on top of the bed and listened as Nick corralled the sluggish girls out of their room and down the stairs. Usually the man spent a little time in there after administering the injections, and from the disgusting things he’d heard through the wall, Frank hadn’t needed to guess what he was doing to them – or, rather, what he was making them do to him. The guests had obviously eaten into his fun time tonight, and Frank heard the front door opening and closing, followed by the sound of the van driving away.
Several minutes of silence passed, and then Irena’s bedroom door opened and closed. Scrambling into a sitting position, Frank tapped on the wall.
‘Irena . . .? Are you there?’
‘Yes, I am here,’ her voice came faintly back to him. ‘But I do not want to talk, so go to sleep, Frankie.’
‘I just need to know you’re OK,’ he said. ‘Did that man hurt you?’ Grimacing as soon as the words left his mouth, he said, ‘Sorry, that was a really stupid question. I know he’s hurt you, because I’ve seen the blood. But how bad is it?’
‘I will survive,’ Irena replied.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Frank said guiltily. ‘I should have helped you, but there was nothing I could do to stop them. They showed me a picture earlier. It was of Evan. They’re holding him somewhere, and he was hurt, and they said they’d kill him if I tried to help you. I’m so sorry, love.’
On the other side of the wall, Irena sighed. Then, her voice flat and drained of emotion, she said, ‘Is OK, I understand. I need sleep now. Goodnight, Frankie.’
‘Night,’ he replied, keeping his ear pressed against the wall until he’d heard the squeak of her bedsprings.
Turning round when all was silent again, he lay back and threw his arm over his eyes. At the beginning of this nightmare, he’d thought that Irena could hold her own with Karel, but it had all been a facade. Karel had always held the power, and she had played the part of the loving, dutiful partner to perfection, probably desperately hoping that, one day, he would actually see her as something more than a slave he’d granted favours to. But now he’d switched his attentions to the younger girl and had shown Irena that she meant nothing to him, she seemed to have given up.
After everything she had done, the jeopardy she’d placed both him and Evan in with her lies, Frank knew he ought to be glad that she was now suffering. But she was as much a victim in this as he and Evan were, so all he felt was guilt and concern, and he mentally renewed the vow he’d made to her before he’d realized her actual involvement in the take-over. If he ever got out of this – as increasingly unlikely as that was looking – he would do everything in his power to help her to escape from Karel and this life.
41
‘Oi, watch it!’ Jordan King yelped, struggling to keep his balance when his friend banged into him from behind. ‘I’m right on the fuckin’ edge here!’
‘Sorry,’ Keegan Brown sniffed, shoving his glasses further up his nose and peering over the edge. Squinting when the sunlight bounced off the murky water below, he said, ‘Shit, that’s a long way down, Jord. You sure about this?’
‘Yeah, it’ll be sick,’ Jordan grinned. ‘Zack and Leo are planning on doing it Saturday, and they’ll be gutted when we beat ’em to it.’
‘It’s a long drop,’ Keegan said again, stepping back when he experienced a sudden sensation of falling.
‘We ain’t doing it from up here, knobhead,’ Jordan laughed. ‘We’ll go round the side and climb down to that ledge.’ He pointed out a slab of rock jutting out over the water on the opposite side. ‘That’s still high enough to look boss in a vid.’
‘What if we fall?’ Keegan asked.
Jordan peered at him through narrowed eyes.
‘You scared?’
‘No!’
‘Yeah, you are. You’re shitting it.’
‘All right, so maybe I am,’ Keegan admitted. ‘It’s dead muddy, and no one ever comes up here, so we’ll never get found if we slip.’
‘You can swim, can’t you?’
‘Yeah, but that won’t save me if I smash my head on a rock, will it? Come on, man, let’s sack it off and go home.’
‘You can piss off if you want, but I’m doing it,’ said Jordan. ‘Chloe’ll be well impressed when it gets millions of hits.’
‘She’s Decca’s bird,’ Keegan reminded him. ‘And he’ll kick the fuck out of you if he thinks you’re after her.’
‘Whatever,’ Jordan said dismissively. ‘Come on.’
Keegan bit his lip when his friend started kicking a path through the brambles to get to the other side. His instincts were telling him to forget the stupid plan and go home, but Jordan was determined to go ahead with the dive with or without him. And if it went wrong and people found out Keegan had deserted him, he’d get the blame.
‘OK, wait up,’ he shouted. ‘I’ll film you, but I ain’t diving.’
‘Puss-ay!’ Jordan jeered. ‘Pussy, pussy, puss-ay!’
‘Fuck off,’ Keegan muttered, following as his friend forged ahead.
A few minutes later, they emerged into a clearing where the ground was scorched and the vegetation frazzled.
‘What the fuck’s gone on here?’ Jordan said. ‘It looks like someone’s had a barbecue, or summat. You’d think they’d be more careful since they had all them fires on the moors last year, wouldn’t you?’
Two evenly spaced lines in the soot had caught Keegan’s eye, and he followed them until they disappeared over the side. Guessing that a vehicle had been torched and pushed over, he walked up to the edge to take a look. He hadn’t really expected to see anything, so when he spotted the back end of a burned-out car some fifteen feet below, its front end wedged in a gap between two rock ledges, he murmured, ‘Whoa . . .’
‘What’s up?’ Jordan walked up beside him and followed his gaze. Laughing when he saw it, he said, ‘That’s what the idiots get for following the SatNav. Someone my dad works with ended up in a lake the other week. Got to be thick as pig-shit not to see that coming.’
‘That doesn’t explain how it set on fire,’ said Keegan, still staring at it. Then, squinting, he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. ‘I think someone’s in it.’
‘Fuck off,’ Jordan jeered. ‘It’ll be them bottle-bottoms making you see things.’
‘I’m serious,’ Keegan insisted. ‘Look . . .’ He pointed to the right-hand side. ‘In the driver’s seat.’
Rolling his eyes, sure that his friend was imagining things, Jordan followed his finger.
‘Shit, yeah, you’re right,’ he said when he saw what his friend had seen.
‘What should we do?’ Keegan asked.
‘Go down and take a proper look,’ Jordan said, wriggling his arms out from the straps of his rucksack. ‘We can take pictures and put them on Insta.’
‘It’s too dangerous,’ Keegan argued. ‘That ledge is the only thing holding it up, and the slightest movement or extra bit of weight could send the whole lot down – you with it.’
‘So what do you suggest, Brainiac?’ Jordan asked, already slipping his blazer off. ‘Leave it, and let Zack and Leo take all the glory when they find it on Saturday? I don’t think so, mate.’
Keegan thought about it for a second and slid his phone out of his pocket.
‘Don’t take pics from up here,’ Jordan said, folding the blazer and placing it neatly on the rucksack. ‘You need to get up close.’
‘I’m not taking pictures, I’m calling the police,’ Keegan said.
‘What?’ Jordan pulled a face. ‘Nah, man, what’s the point in that?’
‘That could be someone’s mum or dad, for all we know. People could be looking for them.’
‘So what? It’s nowt to do with us.’
‘It will be if it gets on the news,’ Keegan said pointedly, holding Jordan’s gaze as he waited for his words to sink in.
It took a few seconds, but Jordan eventually got it, and a slow smile spread across his handsome young face. Getting a few views on Instagram and YouTube was nothing compared to being hailed a hero on national TV, and he was already imagining the attention he was going to get from Chloe at school tomorrow.
‘Yeah, man.’ He nodded. ‘Do it.’
PART THREE
42
‘Fuck!’ Nick muttered, watching as the girl’s eyes rolled to the back of her head.
On the bed beside her, their own eyes glued to the syringes he hadn’t yet used, their track-marked arms wrapped around their skinny, naked frames, their lips flicking over their dry lips, the other girls were waiting for their fixes. But they would have to wait a bit longer, because Nick had a disaster on his hands.
Yanking the syringe out of the crook of the girl’s elbow, he grabbed her by both arms and shook her roughly, then dropped her back onto the bed and slapped her face twice. Her rolled-back eyes didn’t correct themselves, and her body moved as a result of the slaps, but there was no reaction to the pain.
Nick put his ear to her mouth.
Nothing.
Shoving his distaste aside, he blew air between her lips, and then pressed down hard on her chest several times before putting his ear to her lips again.
Still nothing.
Jumping up off the bed, he rushed out of the room, ignoring the other girls when they started whining that they wanted theirs.
Karel was sitting in the kitchen, with his new plaything on his lap and a rolled-up banknote inserted into his left nostril, hoovering up a thick line of coke.
‘One of the tarts has OD’d,’ Nick announced.
‘What?’ Banknote still in place, Karel looked up at him.
‘I’d just given her a fix, and her eyes rolled back,’ Nick explained. ‘I’ve tried mouth to mouth, and all that shit, but she ain’t responding.’
‘I will go,’ Irena volunteered, dropping the tea towel she’d been using to dry the dishes Frank had washed.
‘You can try, but it won’t do no good,’ Nick said, reaching for an open bottle of whisky and taking a swig.
‘How the fuck did you manage that?’ Karel demanded, unceremoniously dumping Viktorya on the floor when he leapt to his feet and slapped the bottle clean out of Nick’s hand.
‘It ain’t my fault,’ Nick complained as the bottle flew across the room and shattered against the wall. ‘I give her the same amount as last time, and she didn’t fuckin’ die then, so how was I supposed to know she’d kick it this time?’
‘I told you this new batch is stronger,’ Karel yelled. ‘Why d’you never fuckin’ listen, you brain-dead piece of shit?’
‘It ain’t my fault,’ Nick repeated angrily, the coke he’d snorted before heading upstairs making him feel invincible. ‘If you wanna blame anyone, blame the cunt you bought it off. I fuckin’ told you to stick to our usual man, ’cos at least we can trust his shit.’
‘So now you think you know better than me?’ Karel shot back furiously.
‘About this, yeah!’ Nick argued. ‘I ain’t being funny, man, but I’m the one who handled everything while you was on lock-down, and I had run-ins with that twat when I found out he cuts his shit with rat poison. We put good stuff out to make the fuckers come back for more, not fuckin’ kill ’em! But, hey . . . what do I know?’ He spread his arms. ‘It’s your business, and you know best.’
‘Yeah, I fuckin’ do, and you’d better remember that in future,’ spat Karel. ‘It’s my shit you wasted; my money you’ve poured down the drain.’
As the men continued to argue, Frank focused on his breathing in an effort to calm his pounding heart as he took over the drying of the dishes. Since the visit from Karel’s enormous friend a couple of weeks earlier, there had been a shift in the dynamics of the gang. Irena barely talked any more, and Frank could tell she was in pain as she moved slowly from one task to the next. But the visit seemed to have had the opposite effect on Karel, and his celebrations hadn’t stopped since he’d returned that night. His drug-taking was completely out of control now, and Frank rarely saw him without a straw up his nose. He was also drinking whisky like it was water, and his mood could switch from genial host to raging psychopath in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately, Nick was like that naturally, and the combination of volatile personalities was making the atmosphere in the house feel like a pressure cooker. The other men had felt it, too, Frank was sure, because they seemed to be on edge far more than usual, as if they were waiting for the ticking bomb to explode.
Irena had come back downstairs. Spying her in the doorway, Karel stopped arguing with Nick and jerked his chin up at her.
‘Well?’
She shook her head.
‘Fuckin’ great!’ Karel muttered, running his hands through his hair. ‘So now I’m a tart down.’ He turned back to Nick. ‘More money down the fuckin’ drain.’
‘It ain’t my fault,’ Nick said for the third time.
‘I don’t wanna hear it,’ Karel snapped, slumping down on his chair and snatching up the banknote he’d dropped. ‘Take the others to work, then come back and clean your mess up.’
‘So you want me to drive to Manchester and back, twice?’ Nick asked.
‘You got a problem with that?’ Karel snarled.
Nick thought about it for a second, his eyes fixed on Karel’s. Then, tutting, he said, ‘Nah, I ain’t got no problem.’
‘Good,’ Karel said coolly. ‘And make sure that one’s arms and legs are straight while you’re up there, ’cos you don’t want it stuck in some weird position that’ll make it hard to get rid of when you get back.’
Nick barged past Irena without answering, and marched up the stairs. When he’d gone, Karel dumped a pile of coke on the tabletop and roughly chopped it into two lines before snorting them both. Throwing his head back as the powder burned a path from his nose to his brain and rushed through his veins, he gritted his teeth and slammed his hands down on the table.
The noise startled Frank, and he turned his head in time to see Karel pummel his chest with his fists before leaping to his feet.
‘Right, go and get tooled up and start the beemer,’ Karel ordered Jacko. ‘We’re going to pay a little visit to the cunt who sold me that shit.’
Jacko nodded, and made his way out to the caravan. Seconds later, Nick came down the stairs, shoving the girls, who had now had their injections and didn’t seem to know or care where they were, ahead of him.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, jerking his head at Gaz.
Gaz got up and reached for his jacket, and Frank noticed him give an unimpressed shake of his head before following Nick out to the van.
Only one of Karel’s men remained in the room. Frank didn’t know this one’s name, because the others only ever seemed to address him as ‘Yo!’ He raised an eyebrow when Karel said, ‘You stay here and keep guard, Scotty. Anything happens, shoot the fuckin’ lot of them.’
‘Wait for me,’ Viktorya squawked, hurrying after Karel when he strode out into the hall.
‘You ain’t coming,’ he said, yanking his coat off a hook behind the front door.
‘I am not stay with her,’ she protested, glancing nervously back at Irena. ‘She hate me.’
‘Grow up,’ Karel said dismissively, pushing her aside and marching out, slamming the door behind him and locking it with the mortice key.
Scotty had gone outside, and Frank saw the flare of a lighter in the darkness outside the kitchen window as the man paused to light a cigarette before heading over to the caravan, no doubt to get his gun. Alone with Irena when Viktorya scuttled up the stairs, Frank sank down onto a chair.
‘She’s dead, then?’ he said. ‘The girl upstairs?’
‘Yes,’ Irena said quietly. ‘I try, but it was too late.’
Frank peered at her face before she turned away from him, and said, ‘I’m sorry, love,’ when he noticed tears glistening in her eyes.
‘You should go to your room,’ she replied, taking a sheet of kitchen paper off the roll and dabbing at her eyes, her back still turned. ‘You do not need to see what happen when they come back.’
‘I don’t want to leave you on your own,’ Frank argued.
‘I do not need company,’ she insisted. ‘Please, just go.’
Aware that she was struggling to contain her emotions, Frank stood up.
‘If you need me, you know where I am,’ he said.
Her reply was a curt nod, so Frank left her and went upstairs. Viktorya had locked herself in the bathroom, and he could hear water running into the bath as he passed the door. In his bedroom, he sat on the chair by the boarded-up window and stared at the wall separating his and Evan’s rooms. Behind those bricks a young girl was lying dead on the bed that he, in a different life, had bought for his young son. He didn’t know which girl it was, because he’d barely recognized the skeletal creatures Nick had herded out through the front door a few minutes earlier. But, whichever one it was, she hadn’t deserved to die like that, and Frank couldn’t stop thinking about her poor parents. They must have been so happy when they’d waved her off at the airport, he imagined; so grateful to the man who had paid her fare and promised her a wonderful new life in England, where the streets were paved with gold. They had probably waited patiently for her to contact them and tell them all the amazing things she had done since arriving: the visit to Buckingham Palace, the shopping trips, the meetings with the agents who were going to propel her into stardom. And what were they thinking now? he wondered; all these weeks later, and not even a phone call to tell them that she’d landed safely. Would they be thinking she was too busy to contact them, or would they be tearing their hair out with worry; trying desperately to contact somebody in authority who could help them to trace their beautiful daughter and send her home?
