Stalkers

Chapter 45

‘You ever seen someone skinned alive?’ Trooper Hobbs asked. ‘Being slowly peeled, layer after glistening layer?’

‘I thought you Scorpion Company faggots liked to work from the inside out?’ Heck said, hoping he sounded cooler than he felt.

Hobbs examined Lauren’s inert form, sliding both his gloved hand and the flat of one flensing blade across her bruised flesh. Again he was like a butcher, sizing up a piece of meat. ‘We can work from the outside in just as well.’

‘And what do you expect it to achieve?’ Heck said.

‘If it makes you tell us everything we need to know — who else is investigating us, how close they are, and all that … it’ll have achieved plenty.’

‘I’ve already told you there’s no one else!’

Hobbs shrugged. ‘If you stick to that story, we’ll eventually reach a point where we believe you. But we have to put you to the test first. Just so we can be sure. Now, where shall we start?’ He put a hand on Lauren’s crotch. ‘Loin?’ He slid it round and gripped a buttock. ‘Rump? No, I know where. My favourite — breast.’

He took Lauren’s left breast in one hand and raised the knife as if to slice off the nipple.

‘How’s your little brother?’ Heck asked him.

Something in his tone made Hobbs glance around.

‘Yeah, that’s right … I’m talking about Brian,’ Heck said. ‘He had to be related to one of you. That’s the only way he could have got involved with an outfit like yours.’

Hobbs regarded Heck cautiously. ‘Brian’s busy tonight.’

‘What happened … you bring him in when you came back home? He was clearly no soldier. Fought like a fucking girl.’

Slowly, Hobbs lowered the knife.

‘When you say he’s busy, I’m guessing you mean he’s busy up Hampstead way,’ Heck added. ‘But haven’t you wondered why he hasn’t called in yet? I’ll give you a clue, Trooper Hobbs … he’s never going to call in again.’

‘You’re full of shit.’

‘Your Brian’s probably lying in a chalk circle now, with police flashbulbs going off all around him. He won’t need a tent to cover him, because he’s in a cellar. That’s where he met his maker, Hobbsy. A dirty, grubby cellar. I bet there are beetles all over him.’

Hobbs slipped the knife back into his belt, took a mobile phone from his pocket and stabbed in a number. No one answered and it went to voice mail. He tried the number again — it was the same result. He tried again — the same. He was now breathing deeply, almost snorting, like an enraged bull.

‘Never leave a boy to do a man’s job,’ Heck laughed.

‘You lying shit!’ Hobbs shrieked, drawing both blades and rounding furiously on him — which was all the distraction Lauren needed.

Her eyes snapped open and she swung her body up, clamping her muscular thighs around Hobbs’s neck. His head was immediately forced to one side; his eyes bugged with disbelief.

Heck struggled with his bonds, but he was held securely. Hobbs buffeted wildly back and forth, but Lauren levered herself upright on top of his shoulders, releasing her hands from the ceiling hook, which enabled her to ball her fists together and slam them down onto his nose, pulping it in a blow. Meanwhile, the choke-hold she had on his neck was clearly killing him. He dropped the knives, and tried to grab her and throw her off. But Lauren was also fighting for her life, which, weakened though she was from the brutality she’d been subjected to, gave her extra strength. They crashed to the floor together. She still wouldn’t release him. He was turning blue in the face, his lips slathered with froth.

Heck fought desperately with his bonds, but still couldn’t free himself.

Lauren threw her body over. Hobbs twisted with her, but now he was gargling. His eyes were bulging, bloodshot orbs. When she threw herself over a second time, he couldn’t match the manoeuvre. With a crunch, his neck broke.

There was a brief, breathless silence, and then Lauren grabbed one of the knives and began tiredly sawing through the ropes binding her wrists.

‘Bloody glad you were fully conscious,’ Heck said. ‘Wasn’t sure whether you could hear me or not. Nice leg- work.’

‘Not going to berate me for taking out another worthless cockroach?’

He shook his head as she cut him loose from the chair. ‘I slotted one myself only a few hours ago.’

‘That stuff about Hampstead wasn’t BS?’

‘My scruples are now on the backburner. This is a fight to the death.’

He got to his feet, though initially it was difficult. He was dizzy and there was no blood in his lower limbs. Lauren had problems too. They’d hanged her by her hands for God knew how long. Momentarily, she had to lean against Heck.

He looked towards the door that the rest of the Nice Guys had exited through. No doubt there was a stair beyond it, leading topside. He listened intently. What sounded like a muffled conversation could be heard. There was a creak of wood; but it was directly overhead rather than descending towards them.

‘I don’t think they’ve sussed us,’ he said. ‘But it won’t be long. You seen Dana at all?’

Lauren pointed to a door at the opposite end of the cabin.

Heck opened it, and saw a small, luxurious bedroom. Dana was on the bed. She was wearing pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, but she seemed to be out cold. He approached nervously. Her hair was disarrayed, but there were no visible signs of harm. Her pulse at least was strong. He smelled at her breath, which was tainted with something faintly chemical.

‘Gamma hydroxbutyrate,’ he said grimly. ‘The date-rapist’s drug of choice. I hope to God they haven’t …’ A belated thought occurred to him. He spun around to face Lauren.

‘If they did I didn’t notice,’ she said, before he could ask. ‘Not that we can rely on that, a set of dickless bastards like this lot. Heck, what the fuck are we going to do?’

‘There must be another way off this boat.’

There was one other door in the bedroom, but it only connected to a dressing room filled with gaudy clothes. Heck cursed as he padded back down the main cabin. At the far end, he opened the exit door a crack and listened. The conversation was clearer, but still sounded as though it was taking place on the deck above. He risked a peek. A tight stairway led up, but alongside it there was a recess in which several coats and rain-slickers hung. He climbed into a pair of waterproof pants, threw a slicker over his shoulders and zipped it. He’d have grabbed one for Lauren, but she’d now stripped Hobbs’s body and was pulling on his khaki vest and trousers.

‘No exit this way,’ Heck said. ‘We’ll have to go through one of these windows.’

There were six in total, three down either side of the cabin. As he’d already observed, there were steel shutters on each one, all fastened with padlocks.

‘Don’t suppose they’ve been daft enough to leave a key lying round?’ he asked.

‘No. But they’ve left us these.’ Lauren picked up one of Hobbs’s flensing knives. ‘This is sharp enough to stick up a gnat’s chuff.’

‘Can you make it work?’

‘I can try.’

They chose the window farthest from the exit, and on the starboard side of the cabin, which they guessed was the one against the canal bank. Lauren worked feverishly. She couldn’t do anything about the padlock, but the shutter was part of a steel frame, which had been screwed into the wooden bulkhead. It was these screws that she went for. Initially nothing happened. She pumped sweat as she strained and twisted the knife. When the point of its blade snapped off, she had to try the other knife, but the first had loosened the screw sufficiently for it to finally give way. With the frame’s grip on the bulkhead weakened, and pulled out a little to weaken it further, the second screw came more quickly and the final two were almost easy. Behind it was a curtain, and then a glass window with a movable panel. Lauren flipped the catch and slid the panel open. Beyond it lay the canal bank, the tow-path and a