Wilderness (Arbogast trilogy) (29 page)

“Where are you? Better come out now.”

Sanderson saw the hole in the wall and laughed, “Have you burrowed your way back to happiness Onur? You always did like to tunnel.”

Sanderson took out his keys and opened the metal sliding door. This was his proudest achievement, this secret place and he would not give it up. The door opened. There was no light in the room so Sanderson moved to shine his torch when he saw a dim glow in the background. He stopped for a second and could see the outline of three people huddled in the darkness and then a voice rang out that he had not heard in a long while.

“This is for you, daddy dearest.”

Sanderson was clearly visible with the bright naked bulb from the hall lighting up his silhouette from behind. Mary hurled the phone at him. Eric noticed the dim green light swinging into vision. The phone struck him on the forehead and he swore as he staggered back two steps but they were on him before he knew what had happened.

23

Eric saw the light flicker, getting closer with every spin. When the crack came he knew that he had played the situation all wrong. The mobile phone struck Sanderson on the forehead, between his eyes, causing him to drop his torch. The metal clattered on the concrete floor and the light went out. His reflex had been to shoot, but in the dark his senses were out of kilter and his aim was wild. The bullet sank into the concrete wall as screams of retribution filled his ears.

Mary knew it was her father, she knew his stench and she knew she would only get one chance. So many times she had been a prisoner here. So many times the hatch had opened and the light had blinded her before the horror began.
‘So many times before. But not today, and never again.’       

Mary could see her father quite clearly. There could be no mistaking it was him. He had a torch in one hand while the other was masked from view. In desperation she threw the phone. With all her strength she hurled the handset at him, her mind watching in slow motion as the handset pirouetted through the murky air, sailing towards its target. She snapped to when she saw the torch drop and ran screaming at him. She knew she was not alone and this time was going to be different. This time she was calling the shots. This time it ended.

Arbogast turned around and he found himself looking at a familiar face.

“Onur?”

“Who I am is unimportant. What you need to realise is that your investigation is now officially over.”

Arbogast realised he was going to have to work with limited options. He decided to play it safe.

“I only need to find the girl. I can make the rest disappear.”

From the back of the house he heard a noise.

“The girl?”

Karim nodded, “And so you see that you have found the girl. Congratulations Inspector but this was never a case that was going to be solved. It can only end one way and that way, I am afraid, will not be good for you.”

Arbogast looked around and realised he might not leave this room and that no amount of logic would save him. All Arbogast could see was the gun aimed straight at him, the dark nose of the barrel pointing to the end of the line. When the shot rang out he went into an involuntary spasm, closing his eyes and waiting for the sharp pain he knew was coming. Arbogast stood with clenched fists and white knuckles, his head angled away from the gun as if that futile gesture might have saved him, but nothing happened. The shot had been from outside. When he opened his eyes it was just in time to see the gun nose flare, this time it was closer to home.

***

John Madoch stood looking out over the Clyde. This venture with Sanderson and Karim was starting to become rather messy. He had got involved as a favour to his colleagues in Turkey but it was supposed to have been relatively straight forward. Madoch knew that it was time to get rid of Sanderson, while his benefactor needed to dispose of a renegade operator. Sanderson’s daughter popping up by accident had been the icing on the cake. The snow had caused problems and the operation had spiralled slowly out of control ever since the first flake dropped slowly to earth. John Madoch went inside and sat at his desk, running his hand along the 1930s mahogany as if checking for imperfections. He picked up the phone and dialled.

“Is that the newsroom? I’d liked to speak to Sandy Stirrit please. If you could yes, it’s rather urgent.”

***

Sanderson was knocked onto his back and Mary threw herself on top of him. She grasped around in the darkness and found the round end of the heavy metal torch. Lifting it above her head with her thighs gripping her father’s sides she pounded his torso and head. Three, four times her anger rained down on her father, years of pent up anger released in one long primal scream. Then a hand grabbed her from behind and pulled her off, threw her back.

“That is enough.”

       As Mary looked up she saw Onur had the gun. Sanderson was still alive, “That is quite enough.” The room was silent, so quiet they could hear each other’s breathing and the low groans from Sanderson, who was barely moving. In the background they could hear a voice. Hanom followed the sound into the back room and pressed her ear to the wall.

“It’s coming from here, there must be another room.”

Rosalind Ying had had better weeks. When she came to, she was face down and choking. She awoke with a start and cleared her throat, retching and spluttering as she clamoured for air. She breathed in deeply. The stench was overwhelming. Crouched forward on all fours Rosalind vomited the contents of her stomach; her hands were inch deep in excrement.
‘Where am I?’
Then she remembered the hatch.
‘Sanderson.’
She looked up but could see no light.
‘I’m in the tank which will be airtight and sealed. I don’t have much time.’

She screamed.

“There it is again,” Hanom said, “It sounds like a woman. We have to help her. I think she’s in pain.”

Mary looked at Onur, “Give me the gun, this is my battle.”

She stood up and walked over to Onur with her arm outstretched.

“Please give me the gun.”

Onur presented the gun face down on the palm of his hand.

“Don’t worry,” Mary said, “We will find your daughter.”

Mary looked at the gun. She had never used one before but she knew how it worked. Her father had already fired it so she knew the safety was off. She straddled her father once more, pinning his arms to the ground with her legs. She placed the gun to the side of his head above his right ear and whispered.

“Who is in the next room?”

Sanderson looked at her with fear in his eyes. His face was caked with blood which was already starting to harden; thick streaks of red matted his white hair.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the sound audible only to Mary.

She squeezed the trigger slightly, “Who is next door and where is the girl? You have one chance to redeem yourself, dad, take it.”

He started to protest, “I don’t kn—” but the shot rang out before he had the chance to say anything more, “The next time I won’t miss” Mary said. She had fired off what was to be her final warning.

“It’s the detective – the woman – she’s in the septic tank in the shower block – she’s still alive – I only needed her out of the way. The girl’s in the house.” There were tears in his eyes.

“All your good work, undone – the shame of it all.” Mary stood up aimed at his chest and fired.

The fourth shot was muffled and definitely outside. Arbogast lay writhing on the floor, with the pain from his shoulder causing him to spin round as his legs thrashed out.

“Be still.” When he looked up he could see the man with Onur’s face staring down at him, “I have something to take care of. And this is something we can all do together.”

Arbogast didn’t see the kick coming and was almost relieved in the split second when the force pushed him back into oblivion.

Karim lifted the Detective’s limp arm and dropped it to the floor satisfied he would pose no problems
.
The shots had come from the caravan. Making his way to the front of the house he stood and watched, looking for movement, for a clue to what was happening. The door to the caravan burst open and he saw his brother run out with gun in hand, followed by two women. They looked to Karim as if they had stepped out of hell, covered in dirt and blood they squinted at the force of the sunshine, unfamiliar after their confinement. He knew this would be the best time to act. Unlocking the front door he drew his gun and ran out to meet them.

Making their way up and out of their dungeon Mary, Onur and Hanom did not know exactly what to expect but they were armed and had purpose. Emerging into the caravan they heard a shot from the house.

“Kovan,” Hanom said, “My daughter – he has killed my daughter.” Hanom raised her hands to cover her ears, to block out the unfolding drama but it was no use. Mary stood back and raised the gun, pointing at Onur.

“We must think clearly. Who is here and what are we dealing with? I only expected to find my father.”

“I know my brother is here. Karim was to be our saviour but now, well now I don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Then, without warning, Onur lunged at Mary knocking her back against the flimsy partition wall, which bobbled under her weight. Onur grabbed at Mary’s shirt, taking the gun from her before pulling open the door and running out into the bright sunlight.

“Stop,” Mary screamed, but her protests came too late. They had barely made it out of the door when a shot rang out and Onur fell to the ground. His mirror image was charging at them, arm raised and gun aimed right at them. Onur had fallen. Taking the gun she doubled back to the shower block, leaving Hanom to care for her husband. Mary slipped and fell trying to race around the corner. The firing had stopped and she was back in relative safety. She knew she didn’t have much time. Scanning the floor she saw the clean marks scraped through the months of filth on the tiled floor and found the handle to the hatch. The door sprang open and Mary looked down, searching for signs of life.

 “Hello. Is there anyone there?”

“Don’t you fucking dare come down here. I’m a senior police officer and you’ve made a fucking big mistake.”

Mary smiled. “I’m a prisoner too but I need your help officer and you need me to get out of this shit pit. It’s Mary. Mary Clark. I think I’ve killed my father.”

***

Sandy Stirrit sat back and wondered what had just happened. John Madoch had phoned him and told him that he had unearthed ‘a conspiracy’ among certain of his staff and that he would be taking his case to the police. It had been suggested he might want to take a camera crew to the Sanderson farm, where he would be able to document the end of a rather unsavoury episode which he said was threatening to tarnish his good name. He had then hung up. Sandy had been in the game long enough to know that he was being set up for something, but it was something big.

***

The rush of fresh air which came when the hatch opened was the single most terrifying moment of Rosalind Ying’s life. The fresh air didn’t quite mask her situation but she knew she now had hope. After what seemed like an age the light from above was blocked out and for a second Rosalind thought her reprieve was only temporary. But it had been Mary Clark. She had lifted one of the doors from the toilet cubicles free from its hinges. They were flimsy but long enough to use as a ladder down into the gloom. Rosalind used the bolts at the side of the door for a foothold and after several unsuccessful attempts she emerged like a swamp rat at feeding time. The two women looked at each other.

“You know you’ll have to come in after this Mary,” Rosalind said, “but what you’ve done now will be taken note of in court. For now, though, I need your help.”

Mary nodded and raised the gun. “Thanks for the pep talk but for now you’ll do as I say – let’s go.”

Mary ushered Rosalind back out of the block and the two made their way outside.

“They were right here,” Mary said.

“Who were?”

“Onur and Hanom – Onur was shot.”

“There,” Rosalind said, pointing to the house, “I think I saw movement inside.”

 Mary shook the gun at Rosalind, “Let’s go.”

***

Sandy Stirrit told the editor that he needed the satellite truck and that tonight they would have the scoop of the year. He had been vague on the details but had convinced the team there was something in his phone call from Madoch. After a few carefully phrased questions the police had pointed them in the same direction and while it might come to nothing they decided that they could not risk missing out to the competition. Now driving down the M8 Sandy hoped he had made the right call. He would be at the farm in 20 minutes.

***

Karim dragged Onur back into the house with the help of Hanom, who had decided not to argue with the gun. He dumped him beside Arbogast who was still out cold. Onur sat with his back to the wall, his eyes boring into his brother with a growing hatred.

“Just like the old days brother,” Karim said.

“What is this all about? I feel this charade has run its course. What is it you want with my family?”

“With your family? Well there’s a thing. Do you remember those summer days, years ago when we three were inseparable.”

Hanom watched, edging closer to her husband, nervous about what might be about to happen.

“How we laughed and planned the adventures we would have. Hanom here only had eyes for me in those days, but fate had a different plan.”

“Get to the point Karim.”

“The point is that there’s been a grand deception playing out in our lives, a deception which runs to the core of your supposed family – a deception which has brought us here. Hanom, our daughter is in the next room.” Hanom’s eyes widened, “Bring her to her father.” Hanom looked at Onur, who could see that her eyes had welled up. She turned and left.

“You see Onur I never liked that you took my place at Hanom’s side. She was my prize, not yours, but when you proposed, well it seemed to change things. And all on the night of her 18
^th
birthday – you’ll remember it well. You were a laughing stock.”