The convent had been abandoned back in 1990 when the few remaining elderly nuns moved back to their sister house in Largs. The impressive sandstone façade could be glimpsed behind the towering beech trees that lined the drive. There was an ominous quiet about the place as though it existed in a vacuum, disconnected from the hurly burly of the town below.
Mhairi felt her skin prickle with unease as she crept through the undergrowth with Farrell, her breath becoming more laboured. She was scared shitless but she was damned if she was going to play it by the book when there were kids’ lives at stake.
The building was divided into two parts, the chapel and the school, connected by a network of corridors. Following Farrell’s lead she slunk round the back bypassing the chapel until they reached a boarded-up window with rotting planks leading into the basement of the abandoned school.
‘My money’s on them being in the chapel,’ Farrell whispered. ‘The only way in is through the front door, which will be locked. If we go in through the school we can maybe take them by surprise.’
The rotten planks yielded without too much protest, though to Mhairi’s fevered imagination it sounded like the death throes of an Amazonian rainforest. They crept inside and found themselves in what must have been the former cloakroom. The air was heavy as though it hadn’t been disturbed for years and still reeked of sweaty feet. Hugging the wall, they quietly climbed the stairs and made their way along empty corridors where nuns’ feet used to whisper along under long black robes. The brown and cream tiles felt cool under her feet. The arches overhead resembled hands held together in prayer.
A rat suddenly scurried across her path and it was all she could do to choke off the scream that rose in her throat. Farrell turned and grinned at her. Ha, bloody ha!
Motioning to her to follow him he crossed the corridor and paused in front of a wooden door, listening intently. Turning the handle, he opened the door and went into a large bright room. Holding his finger fiercely to his lips he crept across to what Mhairi thought looked like a cupboard. He sank to his knees and gently turned the handle, signalling to Mhairi to do likewise to the adjacent door. What the Hell was he playing at, she wondered?
Reflexively, she ducked down, heart racing as she realized she was looking down over the interior of the chapel below. She carefully closed the door behind her as Farrell had done in case it banged shut alerting those below to their presence. Carefully, she knelt down on the padded leather kneeler in the small cubicle and peered down into the chapel. Her stomach clenched as she saw two toddlers wandering around, half-heartedly playing with a couple of Action Men. They were each tethered by the wrist to an intricate wrought iron grille that had previously divided the enclosed nuns from lay members of the congregation. Mhairi could feel tears start to spurt at their plight and angrily dashed them away. What kind of a monster could do this to kids that age?
A man spoke into the silence, causing Mhairi to flinch. She peered over the rail but he must have been standing under the overhang as she couldn’t get a glimpse of him. His voice was pleasant, vaguely familiar, and with a definite Glasgow twang.
‘Time for a picnic,’ he announced.
The little boys flinched and huddled together trying to get as far away from their abductor as possible.
‘Come on, now, don’t be like that,’ he coaxed. ‘We’re playing this grand game of Hide and Seek, and in a little while one of you will go back to Mummy and the other will go and play with the angels.’
One of the toddlers yelled forcefully, ‘Want Mummy now. Bad Man.’
‘Mummy, want Mummy,’ wailed the other child, hiding behind his brother.
A carrier bag was tossed by the unseen man across to the bolshier of the twins.
‘There’s food and drink in there. Take it or leave it,’ he said, all pretence at jollity gone.
After some initial hesitation the bolder of the two boys peered into the bag and with chubby fingers pulled out sandwiches, chocolate, and juice, which he and his brother devoured.
Just as her knees were starting to go numb Mhairi saw the handle turning on the door behind her. That had better be Farrell, she thought, bracing herself just in case. To her relief his familiar face appeared round the door. He put a finger to his lips and gestured to her to follow him.
Silently, scarcely daring to breathe, Mhairi and Farrell retreated back down the stairs until they were well out of earshot of those in the chapel.
‘I think I can take him,’ Farrell said.
‘He might have a gun,’ hissed Mhairi.
‘Unlikely,’ said Farrell. ‘There aren’t many guns in this neck of the woods. The plan is for me to storm in from the priest’s robing chamber, behind the altar. That gives him the option of running out the front door; hopefully, into the arms of the Armed Response Unit. As soon as we’re out of sight I want you to hustle the kids back out through the door of the robing chamber and find somewhere else to hide with them till the All Clear sounds. Got it?’
‘I don’t like it,’ said Mhairi, knowing nonetheless that there was no other way.
‘Here, take this,’ said Farrell as an afterthought, pulling a flick knife from out of his sock.
‘You can use this to cut the boys loose.’
He set off determinedly with Mhairi trotting to keep up with his loping stride. As they reached the tiny robing room, Mhairi smiled brightly and gave him the thumbs-up sign. He smiled back at her, clearly not fooled for an instant. As he turned the handle slowly, Mhairi’s nerves shrieked in protest. Then he was gone from sight.
Farrell crept up on the man who was sitting on a chair reading a paper. He looked tall and angular with dark hair. As he drew closer the children stopped eating and stared at him. The man glanced at the children then stiffened, leaping to his feet and turning round to face Farrell in one fluid movement. With a jolt, Farrell saw that he was wearing a Mickey Mouse mask. Yelling as loudly as he could, Farrell lunged at him. They grappled furiously; Farrell trying without success to dislodge the grinning mask.
Suddenly, he felt white heat pierce his shoulder and realized he’d been stabbed. As he fell back, his adversary took off for the door. Farrell picked himself up and staggered after him, shouting to Mhairi to come out and get the boys.
Mhairi rushed forward, cut the ropes tethering the two toddlers and, grabbing their hot little hands, she ran back into the interior of the building. Seeing a set of stone spiral steps on her right she rushed down them to find herself in the old kitchens of the convent. She scouted round until she found a pantry with a small window to the rear courtyard through which the boys could be lifted if necessary. She sank to the floor and cuddled them into her. And waited.
Farrell charged after the man like a raging bull, summoning up every last scrap of aggression in him to override the growing pain and dizziness. He had hoped that he would be flushing the killer out into the midst of the ARU but there was no sign of them. No sign of anyone. Where were they? Legs pumping, he forced himself through the woods bordering the driveway, unkempt branches whipping his face relentlessly. He started to gain on his assailant. Suddenly the man stopped some way ahead and turned to face him. Farrell juddered to a halt, preparing to square up to him. A fine drizzle of rain made the blood from a cut on his forehead run into his eyes, giving the now shadowy form of the killer an ominous red tinge. Suddenly, the killer removed his mask and the sound of maniacal laughter seemed to echo all round Farrell as he sank to the ground, his body finally betraying him. He strained forward, trying to imprint the man’s face on his memory before he lost consciousness but all he could see was a dark bushy beard and wild blue eyes. Those eyes, where had he seen them before …?