Terror's Reach (21 page)

Thirty-Three

Joe was relieved to find his own room still intact. He locked the door
behind him and dragged his bed across it for greater protection. Then
he stripped off and allowed himself thirty seconds in the shower. He
dried and got dressed in clean jeans, black T-shirt and trainers. Pocketed
his multi-tool and keys and the boning knife, and then remembered
his mobile phone.
He took out his strongbox from the wardrobe. There was another
phone in there, and he could swap the
SIM
card. Although he’d told
Cassie not to call, he didn’t like the idea of her being unable to contact
him if she really needed to. That meant he had to keep hold of the
number she had for him.
But he was also aware of the time ticking away. He couldn’t afford
to get caught down here. Besides, he ought to find a better hiding
place for his own possessions, to prevent his IDs from falling into the
wrong hands.
Joe moved the bed away from the door and tucked the strongbox
under his arm. He crept upstairs, listening hard for any movement in
the house.
Back in the hall, he paused. There was a landline extension on the
wall. He thought about McWhirter, lying dead in the study. He thought
about the prisoners, marched off to an unknown fate. Shouldn’t he
call the police while he had the chance?
Still he hesitated. The junction box was just along the road from
here. He felt sure they would have cut the line, or disabled the phones
in some way.
He looked at the receiver for a long second, then snatched it up.
Expecting nothing, he felt his heart stutter as he recognised a dialling
tone.
Maybe they thought cutting the lines was too great a risk. If someone
called the island and couldn’t get through, they might report a fault.
As he pressed 9, a voice in his head warned him:
The police won’t believe you.
He pressed it again.
They haven’t cut the lines, but they must be—
A blast of feedback made him jump. He nearly dropped the receiver.
The line went dead. Someone had cut him off.
'Shit,’ Joe whispered. He’d just made a really big mistake.

Liam stared at the safe in disbelief.
'What the hell is this?’
You tell me,’ Turner growled. 'There’s meant to be a fucking fortune
in there, not this old crap. Makes me wonder if it isn’t some kind of
stitch-up.’
Liam was so stunned, it took a few seconds for the accusation to
permeate. When it did, his own temper flared.
'When did you open this?’
'Don’t be so fucking—’ Turner started, but Priya spoke over him.
'I radioed you straight away’ She glanced at Oliver Felton, who
looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. He nodded.
Liam said, 'My orders were to wait until I got here.’
'Like that matters now,’ Turner shouted.
Once again, Priya intervened. 'Be quiet. Fighting amongst ourselves
won’t achieve anything.’
Turner glared at her, but Liam knew she was right. He leaned
inside the safe, dumped the cheap jewellery on the floor and rattled

the shelves to see if any were loose. He was hoping for a hidden
compartment or a door to another storage area, but there was nothing.
He knelt down and picked up the box file. 'Have you looked inside
this?’
'Didn’t seem any point,’ Priya said.
Liam opened the file. There was a stack of paper crammed inside,
held down by a lock spring. Dozens of documents of varying size and
age. He lifted the lock spring and skimmed a few: deeds of sale, interest
statements, shareholder accounts. Nothing that screamed high value,
or any value at all. And certainly not what they’d come for.
He sighed. Gave Oliver a long, critical appraisal. Priya said, 'He
swears he didn’t know.’
'Do you believe him?’
Yes. Otherwise he wouldn’t have opened the safe so readily.’
In unison, their radios buzzed. The emergency frequency.
Turner got to his first. He identified himself and held out the
handset so they could all hear.
It was Allotti. 'Someone just tried to make a phone call.’
Liam grabbed Turner’s handset. 'What?’
'At Nasenko’s place, just now. Pendry’s gone to take a look.’ Allotti’s
short laugh emerged as a burst of static. 'I didn’t imagine it. Someone
tried to dial out.’

Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Joe put the phone back and took a quick look round, trying to work
out if he’d left any trace of his presence. Hopefully the steam from
the shower would dissipate before they searched his room. But they
might notice his old clothes, still wet from the sea.
Nothing he could do about it now. Just get out of here.
Leaving the front door open at the same angle he’d found it, he
stepped outside and hurried across the drive. He had the strongbox
under one arm and held the boning knife in his right hand.
The street was clear, but from the direction of Dreamscape Joe
heard the roar of an engine. Headlights swept the bend as he raced
across the road and plunged into the trees. Within fifteen or twenty
feet he was in almost total darkness. Branches tore at his face as he
blundered his way deep into the undergrowth. He tripped on a root
and nearly lost his balance, dropping the strongbox as he fought to
stay upright.
The box hit the dry earth with a thud. Joe turned and looked back
along the route he’d just taken. The road and houses were already
out of sight. He couldn’t see a thing.
He heard the engine noise settle to a steady purr. A door opened
and slammed shut. Then nothing more.
Feeling carefully around him, Joe knelt down and brushed the
ground clear of leaves and twigs. From his pocket he took out the
SIM
card from the phone he’d had earlier. Then he opened the box
and located the other phone. By now his eyes were adjusting to the
dark, and he could see the phone clearly enough to remove the rear
cover and change the
SIM
card.
Once that was done he shielded the phone with his body before
pressing the power button. The phone was set to vibrate, but even the
single low-pitched hum it emitted on start-up seemed dangerously
loud.
Joe took a quick look at the display and was disappointed on two
counts. The battery icon was down to a single bar, and the signal
strength indicator showed no signal available.
He knew that the island had its own mobile-phone mast. Either
they had disabled it, or they were jamming the signal.

Liam told Priya to stay and guard Oliver Felton while he and Turner
went next door. Priya started to protest, but Liam wasn’t in the mood.
'Don’t argue. Just do it.’
She turned away as if he’d slapped her. Turner made it worse by
chuckling. Liam picked up the box file and waved Turner towards
the door.
At Dreamscape, Allotti met them in the hall. He spread his hands
and said, 'I dunno what’s going on. It doesn’t add up . . .’
Liam shrugged. 'But you blocked the call?’
Yeah. I had to fry the line to do it. And the jammer’s still on, so
mobiles won’t work. Pendry’s at the house, and Manderson’s checking
along the road.’
'Good. You’d better go and patrol the waterfront. Have you warned
Gough at the bridge?’
'I will do.’ Allotti drew his gun and left the house.
As they walked through the kitchen, Turner said, 'Who do you
reckon it is?’
'Just Allotti’s over-active imagination. I hope.’ Liam paused before
they entered the garage. He came to a decision, and drew Turner
close.
'I want you to get Valentin and Yuri, and take them into the lounge.’
'But I thought—’
'Now,’ said Liam quietly, and strode into the garage. Eldon was
watching the prisoners on his own. He seemed agitated as he hurried
towards them.
'Shouldn’t I be starting on the inventory?’
'Soon. In the meantime you can sort through this.’ Liam handed
the box file to Eldon, who stared at it with dismay in his eyes.
'What am I looking for?’
'I haven’t got a clue. Surprise me.’
There was a commotion from the prisoners as Valentin and Yuri
were led away at gunpoint. Liam deliberately kept his back to them.
Right now he didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone, Travers
in particular.
Even so, he could feel the hatred they directed towards him. It
made his neck tingle. Made him want to spin round and open fire,
wipe them all out and bring an end to the total fucking calamity this
operation had become.
Joe put the phone back in his pocket and closed the strongbox. He
decided this was as good a hiding place for it as anywhere. To make
sure he’d be able to find it again he crawled back towards the road
and noted his position in relation to the Nasenko house.
There was now a Ford Explorer parked on the driveway. He
pictured the gang, searching the house. If they found his wet clothes
they’d want to know who he was. That would mean interrogating
Valentin.
With the phone system disabled, Joe’s immediate concern was
to gather as much information as he could. Find out where the
prisoners were being held, and how many people he was up
against, then review his objectives once again. Perhaps there was
still a chance he’d be able to rescue them himself, but by squandering
the advantage of surprise he’d just made the task a lot more
onerous.
And now that he knew they were looking for him, he couldn’t risk
taking the road. Instead he set off through the trees. Although there
was a path of sorts, it was narrow and hard to follow in the darkness.
Occasionally he spotted the faint glimmer of water in time to avoid
it; at other times his feet sank into boggy mud and he had to step
back and find a different way through.
In any case, he had to move slowly, for the other problem was
noise. The ground was covered with dry leaves and hard, brittle
twigs. Each snap seemed to resound like a gunshot in the still, silent
evening.
After what seemed like an age he reached a junction with another
path that led back out to the road. He crept along it and saw he was
almost directly level with Dreamscape’s front gates. It was too exposed
to emerge here. Better to move on and find another route at a more
oblique angle to the property.
He was moving away when something set off his internal alarm.
Something he’d registered subliminally, his body responding before
his mind could catch up.
He stopped. Tried to throw out his senses like a net, scooping up
every tiny scrap of data. He was certain that he hadn’t set off a trap
of any kind. And he hadn’t seen or heard anything to give rise to the
warning. So what was it?

Thirty-Four

Liam waited for a minute or two, then made his way to the living
room. Once inside, he tore off his mask. Turner had already removed
his. Yuri and Valentin were sitting like patients in a doctor’s waiting
room, faces passive, hands still bound.
Valentin’s anger ignited the moment Liam shut the door behind
him. 'Why do you drag us in here?’
'Allotti thinks someone tried to use the phone. At your house.’
Valentin frowned. 'One of the team?’
'Apparently not. Any idea who it could be?’
'No.’ Valentin still looked more angry than worried. 'You’ve
accounted for everyone?’
Liam nodded. I’m hoping it’s just a mistake. But I’ve got men out
there looking.’
'Not enough,’ said Yuri. To Valentin, he added, 'The team was too
light. We needed more people.’
Valentin ignored him. You cannot spend too long making the
search. You must start loading the vans.’
Turner gave a loud, sarcastic snort. Both Valentin and Yuri caught
the unspoken message and looked at him for an explanation.
'The safe’s empty,’ Liam said.
Valentin’s head swivelled back towards Liam. 'The . . . ?’
'Felton’s safe. The big combination safe sitting right there in his
bedroom, just where it was meant to be. His boy opened it up for us
without a murmur. We didn’t have to drill it or blow the door off. The
only downside – there wasn’t a fucking thing in it.’
Valentin stared at Liam through a long, incredulous silence, then
bowed his head as if yielding to a crushing weight. He raised his hands
towards his face, realised they were cuffed and let them flop back onto
his lap.
Yuri stood up. 'Let me go and I will help to search.’
'What do we tell the rest of the team?’ Liam asked.
'Say I was inside man all along.’ Yuri nodded towards Valentin. 'Say
I betrayed him.’
Liam glanced at Turner, who said, 'An extra body would help, at
least till we know what’s going on.’
While he considered it, Liam had another question. 'Supposing
this phone call really happened. Why your house?’
'First place on the island, coming from bridge.’
'But who could it be?’
Yuri shrugged. 'That’s what we have to find out.’
Liam addressed Valentin. 'Are you okay with this?’
The Ukrainian barely seemed to hear him. He gave a distracted
nod. Yes. If we must.’
Liam motioned to Turner, who took out a knife and cut Yuri free.
Yuri rubbed the life back into his wrists, then held out his hand.
'I need a weapon.’
Turner scowled, but gave him the knife. He undipped his radio
and passed on the message that Yuri would be joining the search.
'He’s with us, you got that? So don’t go topping him by mistake.’
Valentin didn’t even look up when Yuri left the room. He was like
a man in a trance. There was a tremor in his hands as they rested on
his bony knees, and a tremor in his throat when he found his voice.
'It’s there somewhere,’ he said. 'It has to be there.’
'What if it’s not?’
'It is there, I tell you!’ Valentin growled, leaping to his feet with a
ferocity that made Liam take a step back. 'It is in that house, and we
have to find it. Take the boy and make him tell you. Cut him to pieces
if you have to.’
'Oliver doesn’t know,’ Liam said. 'He wouldn’t have opened the
safe if he’d known it was—’
'He knows,’ Valentin insisted. 'Now go and make him admit it.’

Joe waited, his eyes straining to distinguish something out of place,
his ears alert to the tiniest sound. He got nothing back.
And yet. . .
If someone had heard him moving and knew he was here, they too
would be frozen, hardly daring to breathe. They too would be desperate
not to give away any hint of their presence.
But maybe there was something they couldn’t help but give away.
Something beyond their control.
Joe’s nostrils twitched. Earlier he’d been struck by the rich aromas
of evening, as the plants and trees released their scent into the
accumulated heat of the day. Now those aromas were overlaid by a
much harsher smell, meaty and sour.
Body odour.
Joe lifted his foot and took one cautious step. Then another. He
turned his head while slowly inhaling, testing the air. The smell was
slightly stronger behind him and to his right.
The path back to the road.
He moved carefully, knowing he’d been found, knowing too that
he couldn’t run. He had to fight instead.
The smell intensified as he crept along the path, a keynote of fresh
sweat riding the stale odour beneath. In the grades of darkness at the
copse’s edge, an ominous shadow took shape and form.
The man was lying in wait for him on the edge of the path. Joe
assumed he had a gun, but perhaps the lack of light or the trees deterred
him from using it. Instead he was half crouching, holding a fallen
branch above his right shoulder like a baseball bat, poised for the swing.