15

Hood and Mat returned to the cellar and hovered expectantly at the top of the steps. They offered no explanation for the loss of light. When Mat complained that the hostages were wasting too much time, not having eaten the meal provided for them, Silas launched into a rage, demanding to know why the lights had been extinguished and for such a long time.

“Man walking his dog,” replied Mat smoothly. “Had to turn the generator off. We don’t want any nosey-parkers poking around here. Hurry up and eat. We’re moving out soon.”

Silas glared at his companions and pushed their half-eaten rolls towards them, insisting in an unspoken gesture, that they ate while they had the chance. Mel understood the signal and obediently consumed the remainder of her share, although she felt it might choke her. The tea tasted strong and bitter. Barely had they finished, when the guards approached the table.

“Tell me,” began Silas loftily, “What is the nature of your business that you feel you’re unable to take your friend to a hospital?”

Oh God, not again. Don’t push it! Mel glared at Silas, wishing him to shut up. Such a brazen challenge at this time was crazy. Who cared what illegal business they were caught up in? All they wanted was to get out of there alive. He seemed to be trying to press the ‘self destruct’ button and get them all shot right now.

Both guards glowered at the surgeon but refused to be tempted to respond to his question. Mat, his hand conspicuously resting upon the butt of his revolver, growled, “C’mon,” and nodded towards the doorway. Silas hesitated, but allowed the question to go unanswered and reluctantly the trio filed passively out of the cellar, each fervently hoping that it would be for the last time.

As they waited in turn to use the bathroom on the floor above, for the first time voices and movement could be heard coming from other parts of the building. Muffled in the darkness, Mel was unable to decide from which direction the voices and heavy footsteps came, but they seemed to echo all around her. She waited, shivering in the cold passageway, for her turn to use the bathroom.

Ablutions completed, they were led single file passed the main foyer and grand staircase of the great house. This time the route was different, by-passing another great hall towards the rear of the building and negotiating what appeared to be a number of smaller rooms linked together by short passageways. By the amount of thick dirt beneath their feet, it was apparent that this was not the normal route used by the gang, but it had the desired effect of disorientating the hostages. Torn cobwebs swung with the movement of air and reached out to cling to their hair and faces. Dirt crunched beneath their feet. After leaving the dark muffled corridors, their footsteps rang out on flagstone flooring like an out-of-step army as they walked across another cavernous hall.

Stepping out of the building into blinding daylight, they each recoiled from the glare and added a facial squint to further distort their sombre expressions. Cold crisp wind slapped against their faces, whipping hair into a frenzied tangle. Hurriedly they were escorted round the side of the building to where Mel recognised the same large black van that she had travelled in the previous evening. The back doors were wide open revealing the mattress from the cellar which had been positioned in the centre of the floor, clearly to await the arrival of Charlie. This was hardly going to be a very comfortable ambulance for the ailing casualty. To one side of the mattress were packed the large yellow sacks and toolboxes containing all the stolen equipment. Pointing with the barrel of his revolver, Mat indicated to Silas and Clive to climb into the back of the vehicle, to squat against the near side of the van. Without resistance, they boarded the vehicle.

Mel waited, surveying her surroundings in the cold light of day. There was not a house or building in sight. This was certainly a perfect situation for their purpose. Parked close to the front of the van, two large limousines stood side by side. The nearest, a black BMW Mel suspected was the car in which she had been brought to the derelict building. The farther vehicle was of similar shape but navy in colour. The profile of the fat man, seated in the front of the second car could easily be seen. Mel stood waiting with hands tucked under her armpits for warmth, under the watchful eye of Hood.

Quick light footsteps approached from behind. Turning, Mel was surprised to be confronted by a slim, middle-aged woman in a blue denim trouser suit. Spectacles exaggerated early fine lines splaying out from the corners of deep blue eyes, while thin pouting lips gave a severity to her features unbecoming to a woman. She clutched a cardboard box to her chest and after eyeing Mel up and down with what looked like disapproving appraisal, strode on passed towards the navy car.

Where did she come from? Mel gawped after her. It had never occurred to her that there might be a female accomplice to this gang. Someone must have obtained their food and prepared their flasks, she supposed, so perhaps it had been her? She watched as the box was placed into the boot of the car and she took the rear seat behind the fat man.

Two guards eventually turned the corner of the building carrying their patient on an old stretcher of wooden poles and canvas. Cocooned amongst the thick bed linen, Charlie’s face was hardly visible. A half empty bag of intravenous fluids was laid across his torso, its tube disappearing beneath the covers. Mel noticed a faint red streak of blood filtering along the tubing towards the bag as gravity allowed blood to back-flow towards the bag now that it was no longer elevated. Instinctively she stepped forward to switch off the clamp. Barely had she taken one step towards the stretcher, than Hood grabbed her fiercely by the arm.

“No you don’t,” he snapped.

“I just wanted to turn that off,” wailed Mel as rough thick fingers dug hard into her upper arm.

“Let her do it,” Danny intervened swiftly, as he escorted the transfer of his father from the building. The grip was released and with a grunt, the big man stepped back. The spontaneity of his reaction to her sudden movement was not lost on Mel, serving as a warning, if further proof were needed, that every movement they made was strictly supervised. More slowly, this time, she stepped forwards and deftly pushed home the small blue clamp on the tubing.

Charlie was awake, his eyes watery from the glare of the daylight. His waxen face contrasted the straight dark hair, which limply lay across his forehead. For a moment their eyes met. The intensity of his stare was that of a man fearful for his life. There seemed to be almost an unspoken pleading in his expression. Mel felt a sudden compassion for the man. Whatever he had done, it wasn’t right to deny him proper treatment in this way. She wished she could ask him if this was really what he wanted or whether hiding him away had more to do with protecting the anonymity and safety of the gang than ensuring his survival. She withdrew from the side of the stretcher and watched as, supervised by Danny, they carefully loaded the casualty into the back of the van. The two stretcher-bearers also climbed into the back and seated themselves next to Clive and Silas. The doors were slammed shut. If all the gang were now present, it confirmed Mel’s estimation that there were indeed eight members of the gang, excluding Charlie, most of whom made no secret of the fact that they were armed.

“C’mon, you’re going in this one,” Mat growled and led the way towards the black car. “In the back.” He indicated the rear door and Mel, relieved not to be squashed into the back of the van, submissively climbed into the rear seat. Danny took the driver’s seat with Mat beside him. “Lie down across the seat and stay down. Don’t dare move.”

As she did so, the navy car led the procession slowly ahead of the van, with their black car following in its tracks. The rich smell of leather filled Mel’s nostrils and she sensed a modicum of trust had been bestowed upon her at not having to wear the awful cloth hood. She was, however, aware that the vehicle doors had all been locked. Perhaps her behaviour in the hospital last night had earned a reprieve, or perhaps they just did not perceive her to be a serious threat? Either way, she didn’t care. At last she was leaving the derelict priory and hoped she would never have to return, knowing that now it held a sinister secret to add to its ecclesiastical history. What had they done with Kurt’s body? Had they buried him or just left him to rot in one of the dark damp rooms? She shuddered at the thoughts that chased round in her head.

Progress over the rough track was laboured. Lurching and twisting from side to side seemed exaggerated as the vehicle crawled at the rear of the procession, the sub-frame of the car occasionally creaking with the strain. Mel stayed flat on the seat. Painfully, the convoy headed towards its eventual contact with the smooth tarmac of the country lane. As speed increased, Danny and Mat quietly discussed the length of the journey on which they had all embarked.

“Shouldn’t take more than half an hour,” Mat replied to Danny’s question. “Hopefully, we’ll be back to the old priory late this evening, if not, tomorrow. Depends how it goes, of course, but the place will be empty for the whole weekend, so the Boss won’t want to come back until it’s safe to do so.”

So they did plan to return! Mel’s heart sank. They would really have to take their chance to escape at the first opportunity. The time had come to start taking risks. As the journey progressed, Mel began to slowly push herself up onto her elbow, gradually rising into a half-sitting position. She had to try and identify where they were. Silas and Clive would stand no chance to look out of the van with the guards at their side. Keeping low, she strained to look out of the rear side window. Fields rolled by, the flat open countryside marked only by isolated farms and barns. The gentle beauty of the rural landscape, in other circumstances, would not have failed to impress. A signpost at a crossroads flashed past. Norwich indicated to the left and Great Yarmouth to the right. So, East Anglia it was then. Mel looked forwards between the shoulders of her two captors and saw the black van some hundred yards ahead.

Suddenly her heart was in her mouth as she became aware of Danny’s eyes, now cold and hard, glaring back at her through the rear-view mirror. Momentarily transfixed, Mel saw a mixture of mistrust and disappointment showing in Danny’s face as he faced the dilemma of whether to expose her. Mel sank quickly back down onto the seat, anxiously expecting the backlash from her indiscretion and waited. Danny said nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mel dared to allow a splinter of optimism enter her emotions. Mat, she knew, would not have been so forgiving.

Minutes passed. Slowed by several roundabouts and a set of traffic lights, Mel realised they were entering the outskirts of a large town. The stop, start motion of heavy traffic was now separating their car from the two vehicles ahead. Stationary beside a lorry, Mel wondered whether the driver could see her laid on the back seat, but considered that he would likely assume she was asleep.

“Damn! Can’t you keep up with the others?” Mat grumbled as the car came to an abrupt stop.

“I can’t. The barrier’s down. We’ll have to wait.”

Mel dared again to sneak another quick viewing. A fleeting glimpse revealed the van disappearing from view, obscured by three vehicles ahead of them, as a red and white barrier divided the convoy. Moments later, elevated slowly and silently in front of them a bascule bridge lifted the roadway high into the air, allowing a large sea-going tug to pass through from a dock basin, heading out towards an outer harbour and the open sea.

Mel shrank down again, sensing the frustration of the two men. Several minutes passed until eventually the bridge was reopened to traffic and she was aware of rooftops flashing by as the car accelerated up a long hill. Five minutes later, the car slowed and turned sharply onto gravel. She just had to look again. This time, high hedges flanked a sweeping drive. Ahead, a large square house clad with dusty pink pebbledash, boldly confronted the end of the driveway. It looked like a typical child’s drawing, Mel thought, with its row of three sash windows to the upper floor and a matching window on either side of a large central door. Broad white pillars stood on either side of the doorway.

As they slowed on their approach, a painted free-standing name board identified the premises as belonging to ‘Norman Stanners. Veterinary Surgeon.’ So that was it. They would be expected to carry out a major surgical procedure in a theatre designed for animals! Mel visualised Silas’s reaction and shuddered at the prospect of another temper tantrum.

Hovering pensively by the corner of the house the man in green cords beckoned to Danny, indicating to him with rapid hand movements, to continue round to the rear of the building and displaying agitation at the impromptu delay by striking his finger onto the watch on his wrist. Quickly Mel sank low into the upholstery once more, praying she had not been seen peering out, and listened while the car was parked up.

Directed to get out of the car, Mel saw that the other vehicles had already been vacated. A long flat-roofed extension protruded from the rear of the otherwise square house with a line of rectangular porthole windows set high into the matching pebbledash wall. A bland and functional building, it lacked both character and style.

They were led through a side door, of greater dimensions than usual for a normal house, into a small square lobby. Shiny floors and the strong smell of disinfectant greeted the visitors, a striking contrast to their previous abode. A door to their left took them into the original part of the building and a large rectangular waiting-room. The rear extension, behind a door to their right, appeared to offer the clinical rooms and veterinary facilities for animals.

Green plastic mass-produced chairs bordered the perimeter of the waiting- room, the mottled dark green linoleum-flooring shining and clean. Posters depicting animals of every type adorned every wall space, together with racks heaving with instruction leaflets and pet owners manuals. Silas, Clive and three of the guards were already seated. Mel took a vacant seat next to Clive, choosing to keep apart from Silas, who sat poker-straight in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, picking fragments of dirt from his now crumpled suit trousers. The action was scarcely effective, rather a gesture of resentment at the despicable conditions in which he had been held prisoner.

They heard the approach of the fat man before he appeared in the doorway, as he shuffled his enormous form in his clumsy rolling motion, breathing heavily with the exertion. The woman and man in green cords closely followed him into the room and lined up on either side. His cold steely eyes swept backwards and forwards, surveying the three captives, as though seeing them properly for the first time and wholly displeased with his catch. He stood like a mountainous statue with feet splayed. Clasping his fat puffy hands together, which were now encased in cream latex examination gloves, his short fat arms were stretched round the bulge of his torso. His grey suit was creased and limp, grubby at the sides from scuffing against the dirty walls in the old priory. In the presence of his armed guards, he held absolute control of his audience. He enjoyed the power. Everything was so far going to plan and he savoured the moment. He knew, however, when the time came to commence the operation, that part of this control could transfer to the hostages and he meant them to be in no doubt about the consequences of taking advantage of such occurrence. The big man sighed heavily.

“Now I’m not an unreasonable man, and I think you must agree that I’ve provided you with ideal facilities and every comfort.”

Somehow his words failed dismally to match his body language, which remained hostile. Mel noticed that the woman, standing to his left, was also wearing latex gloves and fidgeted with the fingertips, occasionally rubbing the palms of her hands together in the manner of a person unused to wearing such an accessory. Mel looked round the room nervously, realising that all the guards were now similarly equipped. The harsh voice continued.

“The owner of this establishment will not be returning for several days; in fact this establishment has been temporarily closed to the public supposedly for builders to come in next week, so we shall not be disturbed. You needn’t worry about security, all doors and windows are securely locked and some of the windows even have bars fitted. So considerate, don’t you think?” he gloated. “All the phone lines have been disconnected and we are far enough from the road and other houses, not to be heard. Now, provided you managed to get all the stuff you need for this little operation, and by God, there’s enough of it, you should have no trouble in carrying out this small task. Fix Charlie up and you’ll be able to walk out of here. Can’t say fairer than that, can I?” He paused, half expecting a response, but none came.

“Now first, I have some news, for you. Hot off the press, you might say. Our young nurse here is quite a celebrity. She’s even made the national newspapers and television.” He sniggered with satisfaction and paused again for effect before continuing, “Melissa Stacey, a nurse, was captured on CCTV running out of a hospital with stolen goods after shooting a member of staff! It seems you are now wanted by the police, young lady. How about that?”

His pretence at humour was completely lost on Mel, who sat stupefied by his announcement. So, she was now a hunted criminal! Fighting back the tears, she looked to Silas and Clive for support, but they both were staring back at the fat man with hate in their eyes. Silas opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and instead changed his focus to the woman standing beside him who met his stare and responded with a cold, thin smirk. Gloatingly she folded her arms, the ill-fitting latex gloves looking strangely bizarre with her trim blue trouser suit.

Fingerprints! That’s why they’re all wearing gloves, thought Mel grimly. We will be the only ones leaving fingerprints all over the place. A police search, far from looking to rescue them from their terrifying gang abduction, would now be hunting them down as armed perpetrators of a dreadful crime. Their complicity, far from buying time to plan an escape, was even more entrenching them into the criminal activities of the fat man’s scheme. She wanted to ask whether the man in the hospital had died from his wound, but was unable to speak. That would be murder. And with Kurt also dead, who would ever believe that she was not a willing accomplice?

Giving the gang the slip now appeared an insurmountable task and one which the three of them were both powerless and incompetent to achieve.

“Now then, Maddie here,” the fat man continued, indicating to his female accomplice, “will show you where you can take a shower and then you can start getting ready. Just remember, don’t go thinking that there is any way you can escape,” as if predicting the thoughts of his captives, “because all my chaps are armed. I’ve no doubt that any gunfire will only be assumed to be hammering.” His laugh was hollow and convinced no-one.