poked into his midriff — not hard, but hard enough to double him over. “Wait,” he called to Neil, but his pain-choked voice couldn’t make itself heard above the grinding music and rowdy crowd. He lowered his head, gritting his teeth, sucking up the pain, then straightened.
Neil was nowhere to be seen.
Angry glances flashed at Harlan as, eyes darting from side to side, he elbowed his way forward. People were standing three deep at the bar. Neil wasn’t amongst them. His heart was pounding now. He stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck, ignoring the stretching agony in his gut. No sign of Neil. “Fuck,” he hissed. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all! “Where are the toilets?” he shouted in someone’s ear. They pointed to a door at the rear of the room, and he headed for it. Sweat was dribbling down his face by the time he reached the door. He yanked it open, half ran, half staggered along a short corridor and through a door with a male stick figure on it. He found himself facing a urinal trough. To its right were a couple of cubicles, one vacant, the other engaged. He kicked the locked door in, and felt something bust inside of him. Neil was stood facing him, goggle-eyed with shock, a phone pressed to his ear. Propelled by an explosion of searing pain, Harlan drove the heel of his hand against Neil’s nose. There was a crunch of cartilage and plastic. Neil reeled back onto the toilet, with instant tears in his eyes, his glasses broken, blood streaming from both nostrils. Harlan snatched the phone off him. A number he didn’t recognise was dialling. He cut it off and pocketed the phone.
“I think you broke my nose,” Neil groaned nasally.
Harlan glared down at him. “I’ll do a lot fucking worse than that if you don’t tell me who you were phoning.”
“I…I was calling my boss to say I won’t be coming into work.”
The lie was as shaky as Neil’s hands that were pressed to either side of his nose. “Bit late for that, isn’t it? It’s after eight. Your shift started at six.”
“Not tonight. I changed my hours so…” Neil trailed off under Harlan’s gaze, which was sad and hard at the same time. Snuffling back blood, he gave a slight nod, as if to say, okay, you got me.
Harlan took out the knife. “Who were you calling?”
Neil made no reply. For once there was no nervousness in his eyes, only blank resignation. The music briefly jumped in volume as someone entered the corridor to the toilet.
“Stand up,” commanded Harlan. Neil did so, and Harlan pulled him roughly out of the cubicle and jabbed the knife into his ribs. “We’re gonna walk out of here. Fuck with me and I’ll stick this in you.”
Harlan put his hand holding the knife in his pocket. With his other hand closed like steel on Neil’s arm, he guided him through the packed bar. His breath caught with every agonising step. Neil made no attempt to get away. When they reached the car, Harlan opened the boot. “Get in.”
Neil compliantly folded himself into the cramped space.
“Who were you phoning?” Harlan asked again.
Still no answer.
“We can do this the hard way or the easy way.” Harlan thumbed the knife. “I could go to work on you until you quite literally spill your guts, or you could just tell me the truth right now.”
Some of the animation came back into Neil’s face. His pale, watery eyes blinked fearfully at Harlan. “I already told you the truth.”
“Have it your own way.”
Harlan slammed the boot. He felt beneath his sweatshirt. A wetness seeped through the bandage, warm and sticky against his fingers. The wound was bleeding, but not badly enough to prevent him from doing what needed to be done — he hoped. He got behind the wheel and accelerated back the way they’d come. There was no time to follow through on his threat. Even unanswered, Neil’s phone call might give warning to Yates that something was wrong — assuming that’s who it was intended for. Speed was everything now. And he could see only one way to prove quickly and irrefutably whether or not Neil was lying. Yet the thought of the trauma doing so would cause almost made him wish there was time to take Neil out to some isolated place and beat the truth from him.
Harlan sped through the city streets, ignoring red lights, overtaking at every opportunity. Neil’s phone rang. He snatched it out. The same number flashed up on its screen. The caller rang off after a few seconds. Harlan returned the phone to his pocket and pressed down harder on the accelerator. Minutes later, he screeched to a stop outside Susan’s house and popped the boot. Dazed and blinking, Neil uncoiled himself from its confines. “I don’t want Susan to see me like this,” he said, resisting as Harlan pulled him towards the house. “It’ll upset her.”
There was no time to talk or reason. Harlan slapped Neil hard. As if it’d been programmed into his nervous system, Neil instantly went into a blank, passive state again. Harlan hammered on the door. Even before he stopped knocking, Susan opened it. Her eyes grew big at the sight of Neil’s bloodied face. “What happened? Who did that to you?”
“I did,” said Harlan, hauling Neil into the living-room and shoving him onto the sofa.
“What? Why?”
“’Cos he’s crazy, that’s why,” said Neil, snapping himself out of his stupor with a shake of his head. “He’s got it into his messed up head that I had something to do with Ethan’s abduction.”
Susan face twisted into an expression caught between suspicion and fear. “Why would he think that?”
“Because I tried to phone my shift manager.”
A look of confusion took over Susan’s features. “I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us then.”
“Kane!” shouted Harlan.
“Harlan, will you tell me just what the hell’s going on here,” Susan demanded to know as the boy came thundering downstairs.
In answer, Harlan took out Neil’s phone. Kane pulled up abruptly, sucking his breath in at the sight of Neil. Harlan scrolled through the phone to the missed call list and found the number. Then he pulled out the knife and held it to Neil’s throat. “Jesus,” gasped Susan. “What are you doing?”
“I told you he’s crazy,” said Neil, his tone curiously flat for someone with a blade at their jugular.
He knows he’s caught, thought Harlan. Pressing the blade’s edge into Neil’s flesh, Harlan breathed in his ear, “Say one more fucking word and I swear to God I’ll cut your throat. In fact…” His gaze scanned the room, coming to rest on the coat hooks by the door. He pointed to a scarf. “Pass me that, will you?”
Susan hesitated, uncertainty clouding her haggard face.
“Do it,” snapped Harlan. “There’s no time for explanations now.”
Susan passed the scarf to Harlan. He snatched up a handful of missing-person flyers and stuffed them into Neil’s mouth, before gagging him with the scarf. Neil struggled for breath, expelling black plugs of congealed blood from his nostrils. Harlan’s features softened as he looked at Kane. “Come closer. You need to hear this.”
Kane remained motionless, eyes shining like those of a wild animal ready to fight or flee.
“Don’t worry. No one’s going to hurt you or your mum.”
Kane’s gaze flicked to Susan. When she gave him a nod, he warily approached the sofa. Harlan raised a finger to his lips, then pressed the dial button. He put the phone on speaker mode. With each of the phone’s rings, Neil flinched slightly, causing a thin line of blood to trickle down his throat. He closed his eyes as a gravelly male voice answered the phone. “What you calling me on your moby for? I thought we agreed to use landlines only.”
Harlan watched for Kane’s reaction, mouthing silently, “Is it him?” The boy didn’t shake his head or nod, but he didn’t need to. His ashen face with its expression of paralysed fear told Harlan everything he needed to know.
“Neil, you there?” said the man. “Neil-” Harlan hung up.
Susan’s eyes widened as the penny suddenly dropped. “That was him, wasn’t it?” she hissed. “That was the bastard who took Ethan.”
Kane nodded mutely.
Harlan tore away Neil’s gag. “Where’s-” he started to say but before he could finish, Susan flew at Neil, her fists and nails flailing, drawing livid red lines across his face. He made no attempt to defend himself.
“It was you!” she screamed. “It was you all along! How could you do this?”
Neil’s reedy voice quivered in reply. “I did it for us.”
Harlan caught Susan’s wrists as she swung at Neil again. “There’s no time for this, Susan!” His mind reeled with pain as she strained against his hold, trying to twist her arms free.
“Where’s my boy? Where’s Ethan?”
