Twenty-eight
I’d been dazed by the blow from the shotgun butt, but not fully knocked out, and although my nose had bled profusely, I didn’t think it was broken.
In the half hour since then, I’d kept my mouth shut, my eyes down, and as low a profile as I was able to muster under the circumstances, while I tried to plan my next move. It had crossed my mind several times simply to jump out of the van and make a bolt for it, but what held me back was the fact that Haddock and Wolfe, or even Tommy, might use it as an excuse to put a bullet in me.
But I knew I couldn’t hang around, not after what had happened. Wolfe had come very close to killing me earlier. It was eminently possible that he still would as soon as a more convenient opportunity presented itself, and as we pulled off the main road somewhere near the Hertfordshire/Bedfordshire border and drove down a long, winding road that was little more than a track, I began to wonder if that moment might soon arrive.
It was around ten when we finally reached the rendezvous, an abandoned two-storey building tucked away among woodland and fields that loomed up in the darkness. It was a bizarre-looking place. The central section was at least a hundred years old and built from cobbled stone, but the rustic, traditionalist look was ruined by the two distinctly modern, cheap-looking extensions on each side, which didn’t fit with the ambience at all. There were several wooden outbuildings dotted about, making me think it must once have been an old farm which some budding entrepreneur, whose budget didn’t match his ambition, had tried to turn into a hotel. By the look of the ivy that had swarmed across the front, it had been shut down a good few years before, yet it still had electricity because there were lights on inside, on the ground floor.
A flimsy chainlink fence surrounded the plot with a Keep Out sign on the unlocked and open gate, and an estate agent’s For Sale sign next to it.
‘Looks like Lee’s already here,’ said Haddock as he drove through the gate and up what was left of the gravel driveway before pulling up outside the front door. ‘Right,’ he growled, turning round in his seat, ‘let’s get this filthy scumbag out of here.’
He and Wolfe jumped out and strode round opposite sides of the van, pulled open the double doors at the back and dragged a struggling Kent out by his ankles, helped by Tommy, who was still holding the gun he’d put against my head, a cheap-looking snub-nosed revolver.
As I watched, Wolfe yanked Kent to his feet by his hair and punched him hard in the gut. He fell backwards into Haddock, who delivered a short sharp kidney punch that sent him collapsing to his knees with a muffled shriek of pain from behind the gag. With his hands taped behind his back, the poor bastard could offer no resistance as Wolfe kicked him in the solar plexus, a malevolent glare in his eyes, the force of the blow knocking Kent sideways so that he temporarily disappeared from view.
What I was seeing sickened me. It was nothing more than bullying. Whatever someone’s done, you don’t hit them when they’re helpless and can’t fight back, as Wolfe was doing. And enjoying it too, by the look of things.
Then he turned to me. ‘Get out of the van, you, and make yourself useful. Help get this piece of shit inside.’
As I clambered out of the back of the van, wiping congealing blood from my face with my shirtsleeve, Wolfe pulled Kent back up and shoved him in my direction. He was already collapsing again, and as I took his full weight I was surprised at how light he was.
‘Tommy, you introduced this bastard to the team,’ Wolfe continued, squinting angrily at me. ‘You can help him with Kent.’
Tommy grabbed one of Kent’s arms while I held on to the other, and together we hauled him towards the front door, while he dragged his feet and made terrified moaning noises beneath the gag.
A second later, the door opened, and a wiry-looking, dark-skinned Thai girl dressed in jeans, a white singlet with a garish pink butterfly on it, and a pair of killer stilettos appeared. She was attractive, but in a hard, showy way, with false breasts that sprang out aggressively, elaborate tattoos covering both arms from elbow to shoulder, and the kind of stony expression that suggested she’d had to fight tooth and nail for everything she’d ever got in life. This was Wolfe’s girlfriend, Lee, and she fitted Tommy’s description of ‘a dirty-looking cage fighter’ perfectly.
She was also blocking our way, forcing us to stop.
‘Hey, Lee, baby,’ I heard Wolfe call from behind me. ‘You got the power on, then?’
‘Sure I did,’ she answered in heavily accented English. ‘It’s not hard.’ Then, seeing Kent for the first time, and clearly knowing his history and the crimes he was accused of, her eyes darkened. ‘Is this him?’
‘Don’t hurt him, baby,’ said Wolfe with a chuckle. ‘The client wants him in one piece.’
‘He’s a dirty cocksucker,’ she said, leaning forward and spitting full in his face, before grabbing him by the crotch and giving his balls a vicious twist.
Kent made the kind of noise any of us would have made in similar circumstances, and he struggled in our grip as she cursed him in Thai. Finally, she let go, cursed him one more time, then strode casually past us and into the arms of her lover, letting out a squeal of delight that was about as natural as her bust.
Kent slumped in our arms, saliva running down his face, and once again I found myself feeling sorry for him.
‘Take him in there,’ snapped Haddock, looming up beside me.
Together, Tommy and I manoeuvred Kent through the door and into a surprisingly large foyer, with doors going off on three sides, and a dilapidated wooden staircase at the end. There was an old pine reception desk with an anarchy sign daubed in black paint on the front, along with more garbled graffiti. A couple of psychedelic posters covered the walls, making me think that this place had been a squat for a while. The carpet, dark and stained, was rotting in places, and cobwebs had formed, net-like, across the corners of the ceiling. The place reminded me of the vampires’ lair in the classic 1980s movie
Haddock moved in ahead of us, holding his shotgun one-handed, and strode over to the far door, pushing it open and motioning for us to follow. It led through to a large empty room with more graffiti on the walls.
‘Down here,’ he said, unbolting another door in one corner, and switching on a light.
A flight of concrete steps led down to a dank-looking cellar that smelled of urine and decay, and as we reached the top of them, Kent started struggling and moaning. He must have known that when he went down those steps he’d never be coming up them again.
Without a word, Haddock moved round behind him and drove a heavy boot into the small of his back, sending him flying forward. He cracked his head on the overhead beam, then rolled down the steps in a tangle of legs before landing on his back at the bottom. He looked in pain but was still conscious and didn’t seem to have broken anything, but I hated the way he gazed up at us, with that terrified expression in his eyes.
He knew what was coming. That’s what got me. He knew.
Haddock waved to Tommy, who started down the steps after Kent, then turned to me. ‘Get out of my sight, we don’t need you any more,’ he said, before adding ominously, ‘We’ll talk later.’
He followed Tommy down the steps, closing the door behind him.
According to Wolfe, no one was meant to hurt Kent, but since I couldn’t see what else they’d be going down there for, I put my ear to the door and listened.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Wolfe had come into the room and was right behind me, the Sig stuffed in the front of his waistband with just the handle showing.
One thing I’ve learned in life is, when you’re caught red-handed always go on the offensive. ‘I wanted to hear if they were torturing him or not,’ I said, walking past him. ‘Now, if you’ve got the rest of my money, I won’t hang around any longer.’
‘You’ll get it when the client arrives,’ he answered, following me back into the foyer.
Lee was standing by the old reception desk, smoking a cigarette and looking nervous. She gave me only the barest of glances.
I turned to face him. ‘And when’s that going to be?’
For the first time, I saw that his expression was uncertain. ‘I don’t know. He should be here by now.’
