‘OK?’
A sigh, then sobbing. ‘OK…’
‘Right…’
He pulled away the concrete block, slowly. It was heavy. Then, when there was space enough, he prised open the bottom of the packing crate.
‘Come on, Suzanne, out you come…’
‘The water…’
‘Don’t worry about that. It’s taken care of. Just come on out.’
He heard movement, shone the torch in. Slowly, Suzanne made her way towards the light.
He smiled, encouraging her.
She emerged. Blinking, shaking. He reached out a hand for her, helping her to the side of the trough, so she wouldn’t get wet.
‘Come on…’
She froze. He frowned.
‘It’s OK, Suzanne. Come on. You’re fine, you’re safe…’
‘No,’ she said, backing into the crate, ‘no…’
‘Suzanne?’ Phil looked after her. ‘Come on, Suzanne, it’s fine, I’m here…’
‘And so am I.’
Phil froze. Turned quickly.
Saw something come towards him. Fast.
Saw the world explode.
Then, finally, blackness.
94
‘How did you meet Fiona Welch?’
Turner sat staring straight ahead, arrogance exuding from him in waves like cheap aftershave. ‘University. She was Psychology, post grad, I was doing an M.Sc. in Biological Science. We were friends. Hung around in the same groups.’
‘So what made you leave Suzanne Perry for her?’
He smiled. The arrogance waves increased. ‘Nothing. She just told me how much better I could be.’
‘In what way?’
Turner gave a laugh that he probably thought went with his arrogant smile but made Mickey think of camp villains in old James Bond movies. He said nothing.
‘You know what transgression is?’ Then, without waiting for an answer, he continued. ‘It means stepping over your limit. Violating your laws and codes. Being what you would call wrong. That’s what Fiona offered me. She took one look at my life, my boring, ordinary little life, and she changed it. Get with her and it could be so much better. I did. It is.’
He sat back, arms folded, as if waiting for applause.
‘So what does this transgressing involve? How did you go about it?’
‘By doing what we wanted. Nothing is real. Everything is permitted.’ Another laugh. ‘That’s what we did.’ He leaned forward, eyes blazing. ‘Everything.’
‘Right. Specifics?’
He put his head back, laughed. Trying to look superior, but Mickey caught a glimpse of his eyes before he did it. They looked uncertain. Fearful. His arrogance, Mickey was learning, wasn’t very convincing.
‘Too many to name.’
‘Just one instance. Of your superiority. Your transgression. Go on, Mark. Just one.’
Turner sat forward. Again, that fear flashed in his eyes. ‘It’s enough that you know that that’s what we are.’
Mickey sighed. ‘Fair enough, Mark, if you say so.’
Turner felt Mickey’s disbelief, felt he needed some qualification. ‘We plotted, that’s what we did. Planned. To find a way to transgress, to make everyone see we were serious. Show people what we were all about.’
‘So… what? You kidnapped Adele Harrison? Why? How does that demonstrate your superiority? Or that you’re transgressing anything?’
Turner’s voice rose. He slapped his arms down on the table. ‘Don’t you understand? That was the point. Take a life, any life, someone worthless, some nobody, and do with her what we want.’
He sat back, pleased with himself.
‘What you want.’
Turner nodded.
‘What did that involve?’
‘Anything.’
‘What, killing? Torture? Maiming? What?’
‘Anything.’
‘And you did that, did you? What you wanted? Anything you wanted?’
He smiled. ‘Sort of.’
‘What d’you mean, sort of?’
‘That’s when the experiment moved into it’s next phase. Because we didn’t just do that ourselves. That would be too simple. No.’
‘What did you do, then?’
‘Obvious. Got someone to do it for us…’
95
Phil opened his eyes. Felt pain lance through his head. Closed them again, groaned.
‘Ah. He’s awake.’
Phil tried opening his eyes again. It hurt, but he managed it this time. He tried to move. Couldn’t. His hands were behind his back, his legs curled beneath him. He blinked, letting his eyes get accustomed to the darkness.
A light went on. He shut his eyes quickly, the sudden glare burning him.
He opened them slowly. Looked down. Gasped. He was high off the ground, still in the old Dock Transit building. On the metal walkway that ran along the roof of the building.
The light was coming from a hastily rigged arc light that had been positioned next to him. He saw chains hanging from the ceiling. With huge hooks on the ends.
He remembered Adele Harrison’s body. Took a deep breath. Shuddered.
Phil moved what parts of his body he could, checking himself for damage. His head hurt, his vision was blurred. Concussion, probably, from the blow that had knocked him out. He flexed his arms, his legs. Moved his torso. No damage that he could feel. Good. That was something.
A groan from behind him.
He tried to turn to the source of the sound, twisting his body as far as it would go. Suzanne Perry was curled up on the walkway next to him. She wasn’t tied to the railing. From the look of her she didn’t need to be.
‘Suzanne?’ he said.
She looked up. Her eyes signalled that she was exhausted, totally beaten. She didn’t speak, just stared.
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have been more careful. But don’t worry, I’ll get you out of this.’
‘Oh will you, indeed?’
