‘Oh, Jesus Christ.’
They had seen the open front door as soon as Annie Delamere turned in to the drive. In the few moments it had taken her to stop the car and run into the house, she’d told herself that there could be countless explanations. But she couldn’t really think of a single one. There was no reason that, given what had happened, Sheena would have left the door wide open or gone out by herself into the night.
‘Sheena!’
She rushed through the house, peering into all the ground-floor rooms, calling out Sheena’s name, but she could already tell that the house was empty. She had seen, with a sick feeling of dread, that the patio doors into the rear dining room had been smashed open.
Zoe had followed her into the house and had run up the stairs to check the upper floor. She returned to the head of the stairs, shaking her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘Shit. How the hell is it possible? Nobody even knew she was here.’
‘I don’t know. Christ…’ Zoe was staring around in bafflement, as if she expected Sheena to emerge from hiding at any moment.
Annie had dialled Sheena’s mobile number but, as she’d expected, the call simply rang out. ‘She’s hopeless at answering it anyway. Has it on silent all the time because she’s usually in meetings.’
‘You better call it in. I’ll go and check with the neighbours. See if anyone saw anything.’
Annie took a breath, trying to force herself back into her professional mode. It was generally one of her strengths. When she was really up against it, she normally had the capacity to put all her personal preoccupations behind her and focus on the job at hand. But she’d never previously been in a position like this.
It took her a few moments to explain the situation to the enquiry desk, throwing in a few references to Stuart Jennings to persuade them to throw whatever resource they could at the operation. But the reality was that they had almost nothing to work with. They had no information on what might have happened to Sheena, no description of a vehicle or any assailants. Nothing.
She finished the call, having achieved as much as she could, and then called Stuart Jennings’ mobile. He answered almost immediately, as he always seemed to, and she explained what had happened.
‘Christ,’ he said. She could almost hear him considering the implications of this happening on his watch. She knew he’d be silently thanking his lucky stars that Annie hadn’t sought his permission before moving Sheena over here. At least he was off the hook for that. ‘And you’ve really nothing to go on?’
‘Not unless one of the neighbours saw something. Zoe’s checking with the immediate ones.’
‘I’d better get on to Andy Dwyer—’
A sudden thought struck her, a cold finger along her spine. ‘Stuart. I’m probably not thinking straight. But it’s just me that Andy Dwyer’s the only other person I told about bringing Sheena here. I thought he ought to be aware of what we were doing.’
‘You’re not suggesting…’
‘I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just stating a fact. Dwyer may have told some of his team, though I told him to be discreet. He knew that the whole point of this was to keep it under wraps.’
‘I know Andy’s got a bit of a reputation for wheeling and dealing when it suits him, but this would be a whole other thing.’
‘I don’t know, Stuart. I just know there’s been something odd about this throughout. Like how someone knew that Sheena was leaving the hospital by that rear entrance.’
‘You can’t seriously—’
‘I don’t know, Stuart. This isn’t the moment anyway. We need to be focusing on tracking down Sheena. It was just an idea that popped into my head. Something for later.’
There was a moment’s silence at the other end of the line. ‘Leave it with me. And I’ll get on to Ops and get everything I can thrown at this. Keep me posted with anything from your end, and I’ll do the same.’
He ended the call in his usual abrupt manner. Her main consolation was that she knew Jennings would be pulling out all the stops to prevent this turning into a monumental fuck-up. He might not care too much about Sheena, but he sure as hell cared about his own reputation.
Zoe reappeared at the front door, breathless. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve got nothing. One of the neighbours saw a car in the drive, but didn’t think anything of it. Couldn’t even tell me what colour it was.’
‘I suppose we can at least tell the dispatchers that we’re looking for a car, but that’s hardly a major breakthrough.’
‘So what now?’
‘Christ knows. All we can do is sit here and pray for a miracle. Or hope that Sheena’s even more resilient than I’ve always thought she was.’
Greg Wardle was staring at the ground, clearly trying to avoid Clive’s gaze.
‘Greg’s been with us for some time,’ Rowan said. ‘He was the one who first alerted us to your interest in our type of organisation, even before you started making indiscreet calls. He’s the one who told us about your tabloid contacts.’
Greg finally looked up. He looked nervous and embarrassed, his expression suggesting he’d ben dreading this moment of revelation. ‘I’m sorry, Clive. I’d have preferred it not to be like this. But there’s nothing I can do.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Clive was staring at Greg, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. ‘Surely you can’t be part of this.’
Greg shook his head. ‘I don’t have a choice, Clive. You’ve got to understand that. It’s too late now. I got involved with them a while back. They paid me some backhanders for inside info on planning applications and the like. Just pin money, but every little helps when you’re working in the public sector. Well, you know that. But it’s a one-way street. Once you’ve done it, you can’t go back. So I’ve got to go on. It’s a step-by-step thing, the movement. Building trust with them. But tonight’s the big step.’
‘The initiation?’
‘There’s more than one initiation,’ Rowan said. ‘We ask people to do acts that are normally considered taboo. Greg’s already progressed through several levels. Tonight is a chance for him to enter the inner circle.’
‘Christ, you make it sound like a pyramid selling scheme.’
Rowan laughed. ‘Very good. You know, I’m not sure Robin’s entirely right about you. I think you could have worked with us. If you could ever have persuaded yourself to take that first step.’ She gestured to Eric Nolan, ‘Okay, let’s get this done.’
She led the way along a footpath past a row of trees out on to the moorland. Once they were away from the trees, the stiff breeze hit them. The valley was stretched out in the darkness, the lights of the surrounding villages dotted across the landscape. Nolan was half pulling, half dragging Sheena Pearson. Charlie pushed Clive in front of him, and Henley and Greg Wardle brought up the rear.
They continued until they reached an open stretch of moor. The land was uneven, scattered with stone and cairns, but Rowan led them to a comparatively flat patch of ground. ‘Here.’
Nolan pushed Sheena forward. ‘Take off your clothes.’
‘What?’ It was the first word Sheena had spoken since leaving the car. Up to this point, she had seemed cowed, deferential.
‘Take off your clothes.’
Sheena straightened up. ‘I’m not taking off my fucking clothes. I’d rather you just fucking knifed me.’
‘This needs to be done properly.’ Rowan’s voice was gentle. ‘We don’t want to make this any more difficult for you than it needs to be. But if you won’t undress yourself, we’ll do it forcibly.’
‘You can fucking try.’
She looked like a different person now, Clive thought. Perhaps the initial shock of the kidnapping had worn off, but she looked determined, formidable. Her resistance might be short-lived, but it was impressive.
Rowan gestured to Greg Wardle. ‘I think this is for you, Greg. The beginning of the act.’
He reached towards Sheena, who glared back at him. ‘Just fuck off. Don’t even fucking think about it.’
Wardle looked around confusedly, and Nolan handed him the knife. ‘Make her do it.’
There was a long silence. Wardle was holding the knife as if it were some unfamiliar object. After a moment, it fell from his fingers. ‘I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake—’ Nolan leaned over to retrieve the knife. In that brief moment of confusion, Sheena pulled away.
Nolan made a grab for her, but Clive threw himself forward. His first instinct had been simply to run, seizing the moment as Sheena had done, but he knew that was likely to be futile. His second instinct, unconsidered, was to protect Sheena Pearson.
Sheena was already running, stumbling her way across the moorland into the darkness. Clive was rolling on the ground with Nolan, conscious that the other man was much larger and stronger than he was. Nolan was forcing him back on to the earth when Clive felt the chill of metal under his fingers.
His hand closed on the handle of the knife and, scarcely thinking what he was doing, he plunged the blade into the side of Nolan’s stomach. Nolan gave an agonised cry, and began to writhe above him.
‘Christ, stop the bastard. He’s stabbed Eric.’ The voice was Rowan’s. ‘Charlie!’
Charlie and Henley had already set off in pursuit of Sheena. Now both hesitated and turned back to see what was happening.
Clive was trying to withdraw the knife, but with Nolan’s weight on him he was succeeding only in twisting it. He could already feel the warm blood pouring from Nolan’s body.
‘Shit.’ The voice was Charlie’s. He was standing above them, clearly trying to work out what was happening. ‘What the fuck are we going to do?’
‘Just get the knife off him,’ Rowan said. ‘We need to stop him before he does any more damage.’ Her voice remained disconcertingly calm.
Clive had finally extracted the knife from Nolan’s body. Nolan himself was still twisting on the ground, but Clive managed to extricate himself just as Charlie was bending over to intervene. He raised the knife and slashed it at Charlie’s face, catching him across the cheek and nose, the blade slicing neatly through the flesh. ‘Christ, he’s cut me!’ Charlie cried.
Clive was on his knees now, and he took one more lunge at Charlie, driving the knife into his chest. Charlie fell backwards, blood billowing on his T-shirt. Clive pushed himself to his feet, and turned. Henley was already backing away towards the footpath.
Rowan, though, stood, unmoving. ‘Put the knife down, Clive.’
Clive stood with the knife held out in front of him. ‘Just let me go and I won’t hurt you.’
‘We can’t let you go, and you’re not going to hurt me.’ She began slowly to walk toward him, her eyes calmly fixed on his. ‘Just give me the knife.’
As she drew close, he raised the knife, prepared to slash at her as he had at Charlie. But before he could move, she had grabbed his wrist and twisted it, agonisingly. She twisted more and he fell to his knees, the pain now even more intense. The knife fell from his fingers and, still holding him down, she reached for it.
The last words he heard were, ‘If you want a job done properly…’