I don’t know what wakes me. My head is hammering and my mouth feels like the bottom of a badger sett. I roll over and check the clock. 7.00. Way too early. I go to roll back, to sleep again for another hour at least, when I hear it again. The sound that woke me. A message coming into my phone.
I’m out of bed in a second and groping in my chinos’ pocket. It’s not from her. I sit back down on the end of the bed again, disappointed, thinking about the time I could have had, if only her folks had not been coming back. If only she had let me stay. It’s from Lee. What can she want?
I open the message.
I stare at it stupidly. I want to think there is a simple explanation, but can’t help assuming the obvious. She’s messing me around yet again. My stomach gets that hollowed-out feeling as I put down the phone and start dragging on my clothes.
I jump on my bike. It’s early. There’s not much traffic about. I’m over there in record time. I punch in the combination and the gate swings open, closing behind me as I slip inside. I take a wary look at the upstairs windows but the blinds are shut. I skirt round her car parked in the drive. It wasn’t there last night, which is odd. No sign of her folks’ SUV. I go to the side gate. It has the same combination as the main gate. I enter the numbers, meaning to go round the back, see what I can spot through the windows. There’s no one downstairs. The big room is empty, so is the kitchen. I move round towards the conservatory. She sometimes forgets to lock it. The amount she had to drink last night that is a distinct possibility, although she has tidied up. The kitchen window shows bottles stacked next to the recycling bins and there’s no sign of the takeaway trays. The surfaces are clean. That’s not like her. When I left last night, the kitchen looked like a kebab shop on a busy night. Unless she doesn’t want Rob to know she’s been entertaining. But that is the only indication that he might be here. Maybe Lee was wrong about that and I’m wasting my time.
Only one way to find out. I try the conservatory door, gently, slowly easing the handle. It’s one of those you have to push up and pull out a little bit. I hear the rods release. It is open.
I glide in, careful not to make any noise. The door makes the faintest click as I close it behind me. No telltale creaking. UPVC does have some advantages. The door into the living room opens without a sound. No indication of last night’s carnage. Everything neat and tidy in here, too. I check out the lobby. No sign of the returning family – that was just a lie to get rid of me – but my rucksack is there, hanging from the coat rack. I’d forgotten all about that. I move towards the foot of the stairs with more confidence. I’m not a burglar or a deranged stalker; I have an excuse to be here.
I’m just about to go up and confront them, when I hear noises. First Caro, then Rob. So he is here. I can’t hear what they’re saying. They are talking low, as if someone might overhear them. Considering there’s no one else here, that strikes me as strange. I get to the top of the stairs. Her bedroom is empty. The voices are coming from the little room at the end of the landing. Trevor’s study.
‘Are you ready?’ I hear him say.
‘Yes, I’m ready.’
I go back down the stairs to wait. Maximum surprise.
Rob comes down first. He’s carrying a holdall in one hand. A long gun case in the other. I feel an impulse to run and hide, but I stand my ground.
He stops, genuinely rocked back. His grip on the gun case tightens.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Could ask the same.’
‘It’s not what you are thinking.’
‘Oh, and what am I thinking?’ I can’t take my eyes off the gun case. I don’t know what to think.
‘It’s best if you go,’ he says. ‘Go now.’
‘Yes.’ Caro says from the stairs. ‘Go now. It will be better if you do.’
I look up to where she’s coming down behind him. She’s wearing a combat jacket with the red star badge on it. Baader-Meinhof. The Red Army Faction. I’ve done my research. Urban guerrillas. Direct Action. Active in Germany in the 1970s. Killed I don’t know how many people. But it’s just an entry on Wikipedia, right? No one would be mad enough to pull stunts like that now.
I look from one to the other. They are both wired. Whatever is going down here is deadly serious. It was all there for me to see, except I’ve been walking round like a man in a dream, looking at things, with no idea of their meaning or what they might signify.
I remember the school website. Forthcoming Events at Egmont Academy. The Grand Opening. The VIP, a distinguished politician, honouring our school by coming to cut the ribbon.
I should run while I still can, while they are both on the stairs. Get out of there, call the police, alert the authorities, but I don’t do any of that. Rob’s got guns. He won’t go quietly. There’d be a stand-off. A siege with armed police. SWAT teams. He’ll use her as a hostage. She could be killed, either way. I have to try and stop it right here. Now.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Yeah, you are.’ Rob looks down at me. ‘You’re going to school, like a good little boy.’
Funny thing is, I think Caro might say something now, like Don’t go to school, even at the risk of giving it away, just to save me, but she doesn’t. I get a cold feeling, like my insides are congealing. She cares more about this, about whatever they are planning, than she does about me.
‘I know what you are going to do.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Rob snarls. ‘What’s that?’
They look at each other, then back at me.
‘I don’t know for sure, but I think you’re going to –’ I pause, trying to stop my voice from shaking at the enormity of what they are intending, at the strain of confronting them, putting it into words. ‘I think that you’re planning an attack on the school.’
It sounds mad as it comes out of my mouth.
‘How do you know that?’ Rob’s voice is quiet, almost casual, but the words come out slow and ominous. He looks up at Caro. ‘You told him, didn’t you?’ He shakes his head slowly, like she’s disappointed him. ‘You stupid bitch.’
‘No, she didn’t tell me. I got a text from a friend saying you were here. I guessed the rest.’ I nod towards the gun he’s carrying. ‘Doesn’t take a genius.’
He comes down the stairs towards me and I’m glad the gun is still in the case. His face is white and tight and he has that blank look in his eyes. I take a step away from him. I’m trying to be cool, but he’s scaring me.
‘You can’t do this,’ I say, trying to keep my voice low, stop it squeaking up into panic falsetto.
‘I think you’ll find we can.’
‘Let him go, Rob,’ Caro says from her place on the stairs. ‘He’s not part of this.’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘No can do. He’s made himself part of it. Good thing I came equipped.’ He holds the bag up. ‘I got all I need to secure him. Duct tape, plastic ties for wrists and ankles.’ He looks around. ‘We’ll have to stow him here.’
Caro shakes her head. ‘I just had a text from my mother. They got the night ferry. They could be back any time.’
‘Christ! I thought you said they were away for the week?’
‘Change of plan.’
‘For fuck’s sake! He’ll have to come with us, then. With me.’ He turns to her. ‘I’ll leave him up the multi-storey. Someone will find him eventually. No one jeopardises this operation. Not him. Not you. No one. You get me?’ He pushes me in front of him. ‘OK. Let’s roll.’
We go out into the bright autumn morning. I see Caro shiver, either at the coldness of the air, or maybe the reality of what they plan to do is coming home to her. She touches the remote control that she keeps on her car keys and the gates glide open on a world that couldn’t be more normal. Men dressed in shirtsleeves are slinging briefcases and computer bags into the backs of their cars, hanging up their suit jackets. Mums are coming out to do the school run, packing kids into the back of people carriers, passing them bright new bags and shiny new lunchboxes, ready for the new school year.
This is my last chance to stop this thing from happening. I refuse to get in the car.
‘Get in!’ He takes out a handgun from his pocket. His eyes flick to the happy families. ‘Or it starts right here.’
I get in the car. He gets in the other side, moves over so he’s sitting behind me. I feel the end of the gun barrel, small and round and cold on the back of my neck.
Caro tries to start the engine, the ignition squealing. She fumbles the gears.
‘Don’t go flaky on me,’ he says. ‘Time’s wasting.’
She finally gets the car started and drives out on to the road.
‘Drive carefully now,’ he says to her. ‘Don’t do anything to draw attention and mind the speed bumps.’
He jabs the gun into the back of my neck again. A reminder not to act up and not to turn round.
‘Why would you even think about doing this?’
‘Direct action,’ Caro supplies. ‘It is the only way to get people to pay attention. Propaganda of the deed.’
‘See how they like it,’ Rob says behind me. ‘Right, Caro?’
‘Violence is the only way to answer violence,’ Caro says, although she’s not sounding too sure, now it’s really going to happen.
‘That’s bullshit and you know it!’ I turn to look at her, even though he jabs the gun barrel in harder. ‘How’s this going to make a difference?’
She doesn’t answer. Her grip on the wheel tightens. Anxiety makes her speed up and we bounce over one traffic calming device then another.
‘Slow down! I told you to watch that!’ Rob shouts from the back, his voice loud with something I’ve never heard there before. Something like fear. ‘Keep your speed down! There’s a load of explosives packed into the spare wheel!’
‘What?’ Caro turns her head to face him and the car swerves, hitting the kerb.
‘Fuck’s sake! I said – drive careful!’
‘You never said anything about a bomb!’
‘You wanted an operation. You got one. Violence is the only way to answer violence.’ He is parroting her words back at her.
‘A bomb? For Christ’s sake, Rob.’ I twist, trying to see him. ‘That’s crazy! The whole thing’s crazy! You’ve got to stop this right now.’
‘Don’t say that.’ He angles the gun up under my skull. ‘I’ve told you before.’
‘But why would you do that? Caro?’ I turn to appeal to her. ‘This is madness. You can’t do this. Think of all the people who’ll be there! All the people who could get killed!’
‘You shut up! You ain’t got no say in this. No say at all. I told you, didn’t I? Should have done me when you could.’
‘A bomb isn’t part of it. Was never part of it.’ Caro is trying to keep calm, but her hands are trembling, slipping on the wheel. ‘This was supposed to be a political operation, an assassination.’
‘Dead is dead. You said that yourself. What does it matter who or how many? See how they like it here, that’s what you said. Direct Action. It is the only way to get people to pay attention.’ He’s quoting her words back at her again, taunting her with her own rhetoric. ‘You thought I weren’t listening, couldn’t understand all that political stuff you were laying on me. I was listening all right. I ain’t thick.’
‘I never said you were.’ She says it so quietly he can’t hear.
‘What’s that?’
‘I never said you were thick.’
‘Yeah? It’s what you think, though? Him, too. I’m just doing what you said you wanted. Do anything for you, wouldn’t I, princess? A bomb on home soil, in a school? That should do it. That’ll make a difference. That’ll get their attention. It certainly will.’
Caro has no reply. Rob can’t see her face but I can. It is pale, like a mask, no expression, but her lips are trembling, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks.
‘You listen up,’ he says to her. ‘You listen to me and you listen carefully. This is what you are going to do. You will drop me and Jimbo at the multi-storey, then you will drive to the school. You will park your car on the side of the car park which is parallel to the drive.’
‘When is it set to go off?’ Her voice is far away, almost disinterested, as if she’s distancing herself from the whole thing.
‘10.15. I open up at 10.00. It’s a trick they use all the time out there. Double whammy. One thing goes down and everyone thinks that’s it. Just when they think it’s all over – kerboom! If one don’t get you, the other one will.’ He gives a low laugh, as if at something private, not meant to be funny. ‘I’ll be watching so no-show from you, car in the wrong place, anything don’t look right, and I start shooting, beginning with Jimbo. Any sign of trouble, things not going according to plan, he gets it first.’
‘And what if there are car checks? What if they stop me? Search the car?’ There’s that distance again, as if she’s talking about someone else who’s been given the task of driving a car bomb into a school.
‘That’s your problem, darlin’. You’ll think of something. Sweet talk them. Use your charm. Or schwack!’
He’s holding the gun up to my head now. She glances sideways and back again. Rob has taken this way past anything that she had planned. He’s hijacked the whole mad scheme and then outmanoeuvred her with all the skill of a grand master. She’s silent, like she has no answers. He’s left her with nowhere to go.
Her tears have dried on her face. Her jaw is rigid; a small muscle jumps in her cheek. She’s driving smoothly now, with more confidence, but her knuckles are white where she’s gripping the wheel. Her apparent indifference is masking her anger. She is fighting to keep her fury under control.
‘Rob!’ I twist round. We are nearing the town now, minutes away from the multi-storey car park. Up there, he’ll have the whole town in front of him, not just the school. Precinct, ring road, you name it. I know he’s beyond reasoning, but I have to try. I figure he won’t shoot me, not here, not now, not in a street full of cars and people. ‘You can’t –’
I don’t get to finish the sentence.
‘I told you to shut the fuck up!’
He hits me across the side of the head hard with the barrel of the gun. I see double, can’t hear for the ringing in my ears and feel the liquid trickle beginning to flow through my hair. I touch my forehead. My hands come away red with blood.
Caro turns to look at me, automatically lifting her foot from the accelerator as she does so.
‘Don’t stop the car,’ he snarls at her. We’re driving through the centre of town, towards the bridge over the river. There are plenty of people about, getting off buses, walking up from the station, coming out of cafes clutching lattes. ‘Keep driving or he gets it – you, too, and anyone else around.’
For a second, I think that she is going to disobey him. Her eyes go wide with shock at the sight of the blood trickling down my face. The car is in danger of stalling. I hold my hands out, fingers spread, sticky and red.
‘This is real, Caro! How much more are you going to spill?’
‘There’s tissues in the glove compartment,’ is all she says. She accelerates, eyes looking ahead, her mask back in place.
‘You’re mad, you know that!’
‘I told you not to say that.’ He taps me with the gun again, but gently this time, almost a caress. ‘But maybe I am, little brother, maybe I am. Runs in the family.’
We’re approaching the bridge now. They haven’t finished working on it; the traffic is still single lane with temporary traffic lights across it. We get there just as the lights are changing. Caro slows right down, as if she is about to stop.
‘There’s only one thing left to do.’ She breathes the words so quietly that only I can hear. Then she says: ‘Get out of the car,’ her voice low and deliberate. She says it again, loud and insistent, screaming the words in my ear. ‘GET OUT OF THE CAR!’
I’ve got the door open and dive sideways, out of his line of fire. She speeds up, jumping the temporary lights which have just turned back to red. She has the long bridge to herself. She puts her foot down, the car picks up speed. Workmen turn, alerted by the roar of the engine, the squeal of tyres on tarmac. Then halfway across, just before the point where the stone parapet is replaced by a temporary barrier, she swerves hard to the left. The car mounts the pavement – workmen are shouting, scrambling to get out of the way. I hear the wooden barrier splintering, then a splashing roar as the car hits the river nose first and goes straight down.
For a moment there is silence, the only sound the lapping slop of the displaced water. Time seems to slow, then stop altogether so everyone is frozen in the moment looking towards the source of this extraordinary event, this disturbance to their lives. Then it all speeds up again and people are running, shouting for help, racing to the bridge. I scramble to my feet and I’m running, too.
I don’t know what I expect to see as I get to the parapet. Maybe that she’ll emerge. She’s a good swimmer after all, a strong swimmer. Water is her element. She told me that. She will get out, people do escape from those situations. She will wriggle out and swim up to the surface. She will emerge from the water like a river mermaid – a nixie, a lorelei. She will appear any second. She has to survive. The prospect of her death does not seem a possibility. He’ll come up after her. He’s a born survivor. I cannot think of his death, either. He’s been through a war – how could this kill him?
The seconds stretch to a minute, two. People hang over the bridge, line the bank, attracted by the drama, the spectacle. Unable to do anything, they lean forwards, straining towards the patch of disturbed water, point and gesture in a flutter of helpless hands. Time ticks by. The disturbance in the water has dissipated; the river resumes its flow.