‘Stop it!’ shouted Janice. ‘We’ve just buried our parents!’
Lock dropped Don’s wrist. ‘What do you mean “we”?’
‘Don’s my kid brother.’
Twenty-four
Lock wondered how much of an extremist you had to be to fill the role of the Stokes family black sheep. It did kind of explain some of the young man’s over-righteous anger, though. He almost regretted adding injury to insult by hurting Don’s wrist. Then he thought of Josh Hulme, and his momentary feeling of sympathy ebbed away, as quickly as it had appeared.
Don worried at his wrist. ‘Man, I could use a drink.’
The way he said it, Lock assumed he wasn’t talking about a lactose-free protein shake. Lock had always assumed the animal rights crowd weren’t much for liquor. Lentil casseroles, for definite. Cheap whisky, not so much.
‘There’s a place about five blocks from here. I can give you a ride,’ he offered.
Don seemed unsure.
‘He’s OK,’ said Janice.
Don still said nothing. Lock didn’t want to push it, but this was a great opportunity. Get a few drinks in him and who knew what Don Stokes would cough up?
‘Listen, I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you back there, man. I’m sorry.’
Don almost managed a smile. ‘Forget it, you saved my sister’s life.’
‘We good?’ asked Lock, offering a hand.
Don shook with his left. ‘I’m usually right-handed, but some asshole almost broke it.’
In the language of men, that was a yes. The tension between them lifted.
Lock helped Janice back down the slope. It had never occurred to him before, but if getting a wheelchair up a slope was an effort, getting it back down was an adventure. At the bottom, he could see Ty fully engaged in the seemingly impossible task of trying to make it look like he had nothing to do with Lock’s Toyota while standing right next to it.
Lock made the introductions. Once those were out of the way, Lock, Ty and Don helped Janice into the car and then spent the next ten minutes collapsing the wheelchair and trying to load it into the trunk.
‘Shoulda brought one of the Yukons,’ Ty observed helpfully as they set off, the FBI surveillance vehicle slotting in behind them.
Lock drove, Janice next to him in the passenger seat, giving Ty and Don a chance to buddy up in the back.
‘You must really like animals, huh?’ said Ty.
‘Guess I do.’
‘I had a dog once,’ Ty continued, earning a
‘That the one who died at a ripe old age?’ Lock asked, pressing down on the gas, eager to get to the bar.
‘Nah, I’m thinking of a different one. Y’know, the pit bull. I’m sure I told you this story, right?’
‘Which is why I don’t need to hear it again.’
Lock glanced in the mirror. The JTTF SUV was still behind them, keeping the regulation half-block distance.
Ty smiled at Don. ‘Lock gets real emotional when I tell it. It was kind of an Old Shep type of situation.’
‘Well, here we are,’ interrupted Lock, turning so hard into the bar’s parking lot that Ty and Don were thrown around on the back seat.
Having helped Don wrestle the wheelchair from the truck, Lock left him to reassemble it. Then he pulled Ty out of earshot. ‘What are you doing, Tyrone? These people love animals more than they do people and you’re gonna tell him about shooting your dog?’
Ty glanced over at Don. ‘Hey, if they think I’m cold enough to shoot my own dog, maybe it’ll get them thinking about what might happen to them if they don’t cough up that kid.’
Twenty-five
Josh woke to the sound of boots in the corridor outside. He tensed as they stopped outside the door. Backing up, he found the wall. The camera whirred, its Cyclops eye tracking his movement. His breathing quickened. He glanced across to the album which lay like an accusation on the dresser.
The door began to open. Josh closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Natalya was standing in the doorway.
But how? Natalya was dead. Josh was sure she was. OK, he’d closed his eyes after the man had raised the gun. But he’d heard the shot. Followed by the splash. There had been blood at the far end of the boat.
Natalya smiled at him. ‘It’s OK, Josh. You can go home now.’
Josh stayed where he was. ‘How can I believe you after what you did?’
‘Don’t you want to go home, Josh?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then come with me.’
Natalya held out her hand. Josh took a step towards her, stretched out his. Almost there. A matter of inches between fingertips.
Then a loud bang as the door closed on both of them, and Natalya evaporated from view.
Josh sat bolt upright. His back was sore. The flap in the door was open. A tray was pushed through it. Breakfast.
He sank back down on to the bed, listening to the sound of the boots, this time retreating. He got to his feet and rushed the door, pounding against it with his fists. ‘Let me go! Let me out of here!’ The boots faded to silence.
He looked down at the tray. Dry cereal. Toast. OJ. He was ravenous. He ate the cereal with his hands, stuffing it into his mouth, oblivious to the camera. His mouth began to dry and he gulped down the juice. It tasted like the stuff that you made up yourself at home. Gritty. Horrible.
Then he spotted the piece of paper, folded under the plastic cereal bowl. He pulled it out and unfolded it, bracing himself for something horrible like the images in the album. But it was only a note. He sipped at the orange juice as he read it.
Josh -
Keep doing as you’re told and you can go back to your family soon.
Lone Wolf
Josh read it slowly, making sure he understood every word.
Lone Wolf. He was sure he’d heard that name before. Maybe it was something to do with the phone calls they’d had at home. He would pick up the phone and no one would speak. He was sure it was something to do with his father’s work for the company. Josh’d been so happy when his father had told him that he was leaving. And then this happened.
He looked again at the note, took another sip of juice. It said nothing about what would happen if the demands were not met. If it was aimed at reassuring him, it was having the opposite effect. First chance he had, he planned on getting out of this place.
He sat back down on the bed. His body felt heavy, especially his legs. The horror of Natalya’s visit was receding. He felt safe again somehow.
