Oh please, please, let it be there… please God, let it still be there…
It was.
Rose couldn’t believe her luck. She almost shouted out aloud, punched the air, even. But she did neither. Just lay there as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed. But it had.
She had found her pepper spray.
Keeping her breathing as shallow as she could so as not to alarm Ghost Rider. Although the way he was twisting and grunting in his efforts to remove her jeans, she thought he would be beyond noticing any changes in her breathing.
She tried to disconnect from what was happening to the rest of her body, just concentrate on what her fingers were doing. Touching the can of spray, finding the front, fitting her fingers round the container, getting her grip in the right place, readying herself to shoot…
She brought her arm up as far as it would go. Held the can right in his face.
Sprayed.
The effect was immediate. As the pepper hit him in the eyes, he reared back off her, hands going to eyes, clawing at them. She took advantage straight away, pushing herself off the floor, making for the stairs, the exit.
But he was quick. Even half-blinded he knew the boat better than her. His hand clamped round her ankle, pulled. His grip was too strong. Rose’s leg was pulled out from under her.
She fell to the floor, landing awkwardly, feeling something pop in her left knee.
She screamed, tried to rise once more.
Too late. He was on her.
Still clutching the can of spray, she brought her hand up but he was ready, knocking it out of her hand. She heard it land uselessly, somewhere on the far side of the boat, in the mess and shadows.
She tried to rise again. Felt pain arc from her knee all the way up her leg.
She gasped.
Saw his malevolent, red skull in her face once more. Eyes streaming.
Heard him scream in pain and rage.
Glimpsed his fist coming towards her face.
Felt nothing.
82
Suzanne still hadn’t moved. Had barely breathed.
She lay there, eyes wide, staring, straining to hear anything, something that would give her a clue as to what had happened to Julie. Just a scream and then silence. She didn’t know what had happened, but she knew it wasn’t good.
She closed her eyes, the better to concentrate, the better to hear.
Nothing.
She let out a breath. After the scream she had tried calling but received no response. She had tried again. Nothing. Eventually she accepted the fact. Something bad had happened to Julie and she wouldn’t be talking again.
The easiest thing would have been to give in to panic. Scream, shout, pound the sides of the box, kick out… and it was so easy… she had felt it build inside her, a volcanic eruption of emotion looking for an outlet, a screaming, shaking outlet, but she had managed to stop it. Keep it dormant, keep it down. It would get her nowhere. Accomplish nothing.
She had to think. Work out what happened to Julie. Make sure it didn’t happen to her.
Suzanne controlled her breathing once more, kept her mind focused. Thought back to what Julie had said, what she was doing.
Then tearing and creaking…
Then silence.
Then she was out and laughing then…
The screaming. Long and hard.
Suzanne shook her head, shaking loose the image that had stuck there. The darkness just made her imagination worse. Seeing something so horrible, no true, real-life scene could ever match it.
Or at least she hoped not.
She focused. The box, the tearing and creaking… that was the noise it made when opened. And Julie had said their captors mustn’t have closed it properly.
Think, think, process…
What about her trip out of the box? Her toilet break? Anything to be gleaned from that?
She retraced it in her mind once more. The door had opened, she’d been given the hood to wear. Nothing there. What about the feel of things when she was out? The sounds?
The first thing she had experienced had been water up to her ankles. What could that tell her? It was still. And there was no smell. Not tidal, then. Not on the seafront, then.
The water had ended and she had stepped out. So a small amount of water. A pool, maybe? Ditch? Concrete underneath. A trough of some kind? But why?
Leave it. On to the next part. She had been guided over a cold concrete floor. Hard and dirty, with small, sharp bits sticking in her wet feet as she went.
Was there anything about the walk itself…
Nothing. Except…
That sound. Like a humming or churning. Power lines, pylons… or a generator.
A shudder ran through Suzanne, jack-knifing her body with its suddenness.
She knew what had happened to Julie now. And it didn’t make her feel any better.
A generator. And a trough of water. And a scream from Julie as soon as she wriggled out of the box.
Booby-trapped. Even if they managed to escape the box itself they couldn’t escape from where they actually were. The water must be too wide to cross. And electrified.
Suzanne sighed.
Felt more alone and abandoned, more hopeless than ever.
83
Mickey was following the Nemo. Out of King Edward Quay and on to Haven Road. Over the roundabout and down the Colne Causeway. Heading towards the Magic Roundabout.
At first he had thought it was just a nickname, a less than affectionate term everyone used. He was surprised to learn that was its official name too. He was less surprised to learn that the rest of Colchester despised it as much as he did.
It comprised one main roundabout with several mini ones orbiting it, plus a lot of irritated motorists. And that was where the Nemo was headed.
Mickey thought he had managed to shadow the van without being seen so far but he was winging it on his own. Following was a delicate operation, usually carried out in tandem with at least one, possibly two other vehicles. That was how he was used to doing at. On his own he was just improvising.
And the Magic Roundabout could be where his luck ran out.
He was two cars behind and no other unmarked cars had come to join him yet. So he had to be careful. Too
