Holy Island Trilogy 03 - The Final Countdown (17 page)

The door opened and Shelly jumped up, snatching the second pen out of her pocket. She was ready to do it again, to whoever came through the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

‘You sure you’ve searched everywhere?’ Ella asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice and failing miserably.

‘She’s gone looking for them, hasn’t she,' Coral stated. ‘Check the fridge for her insulin pens.'

Seeing as he was the closest, Smiler jumped up and went into the kitchen. A few moments later, he was back. ‘No sign of any insulin pens in there.’

Mike frowned. ‘Where do you think she’s gone?’

‘I know where she’s gone.' Coral replied. ‘She’s gone looking for the Leader.’

Mike raised his eyebrows.

‘Ah, Mike. You don’t know, do you, that the other night she had the guts to inject one of the Leader's guards with insulin.’

‘Hmm, well done her.’

The rest of them nodded.

‘She what?’ Brother David said in awe.

‘She--’

‘Yes, I know what you said… Wow, brave girl.’

Danny smiled at everyone. Way to go, Shelly, he was thinking. For the first time in weeks, his heart felt just that little bit lighter, until Aunt May brought him crashing back down.

‘You do all realise she bloody well might not be coming back.’

Every pair of eyes turned to Danny. Looking back at them, he shook his head and, even knowing the danger she had put herself in, said, ‘She will… I know she will.’

CHAPTER FORTY

Shelly held the pen like a spear just above her right shoulder. The first guard lay perfectly still at her feet, apart from his left foot which was twitching ever so slightly. Her hands were trembling, but she’d done what she had set out to do.

 Although she knew it wasn’t over yet.

 And now the door was slowly opening and creaking, just like the door in that other hell had creaked, and the other guard stepped through.

Without hesitation, Shelly threw herself at him.

‘No, Shelly, stop,’ he yelled, as the needle made contact with his shoulder. ’You don’t understand, I’m on your side.’

‘Liar!’ she screamed, pressing the plunger. ‘No one’s on my side, least of all you… Die!’

He twisted away from her and grabbed her arm then, pushing her away from him, he quickly pulled the pen out of his shoulder. Seeing that it was empty, he stared at her in horror.

‘Die, bastard, die for everything you’ve ever done.’

He shook his head, his face white with shock. ’Shelly, you don’t understand.’

‘Ha! I understand all right, and you’re dead, mate. Just like him. Die, you bastard, make the world a better place.’

A moment later he felt cold liquid run down his arm. He gasped, and Shelly, thinking it was his last breath, smiled.

He smiled back at her as he said, ’The needle must have stuck in the seam of my jacket.’

Shelly’s face dropped. Frantically she looked around for an escape route. Get out, get out, her mind was screaming at her.

‘It’s all right, Shelly, I’m on your side,’ he repeated, slowly so it would penetrate the fear and doubt he could see on her face, and the panic as he saw her reach into her pocket.

How many needles has she got in there? he wondered. He’d been lucky once!

‘Please, please, Shelly, you’ve got to believe me. How do you think I know your name? Take time, think hard. Have you ever seen me before, anywhere?’

‘What?’ She paused for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to her until he mentioned it that he had been calling her by her name. ‘But how…How can I....’ She gestured with her hand to the now lifeless body on the floor. 'You…you look just like him, it takes a certain kind of person to do what he does.’ She shook her head.

‘Shelly.’

‘No. I don’t believe you.’

‘You haven’t got a choice.’ He went on quickly, ‘I’m part of Aunt May’s set up, Shelly, for fuck's sake, not this lot. Now quick, we’ve got to move him before anyone comes along. There’s no one else we can trust in here. And you are just going to have to trust me, girl…I’m all you’ve got.’

Still unsure, she stared at him.

Reaching down, he grabbed the guard's arms and started pulling him down the corridor. ‘Open the third door down, quickly.’

Making her mind up - like he said, she thought, there’s no one else - she ran ahead of him and opened the door wide, and he pulled the guard through. Straightening up, he looked at Shelly and said, ‘I’m Mitch by the way, short for Mitchell. And I know you’re Shelly, that phone call was from Ella.’

Shelly looked at him. Should she trust him or not? He knew all the right names, but that could be a cover. He could be working for both sides. 'Help!' she wanted to yell, but help would never come. Not in here, the home of the damned.

‘OK,’ she said after a moment, knowing that she had no choice and had to trust him. ‘What now?’

He looked around the small room. It was a library with one narrow window on the far side. The walls were lined with books. Some of them, he knew, were very rare, and the outside world thought they were lost forever.  The Leader, cursed with insomnia, used the library mostly in the middle of the night, sometimes disturbing a slave's sleep to read to him. Next to the window there was a spiral staircase that led up to the Leader's bedroom.

‘Ah, I know. Quickly, while I pull him over to the staircase, grab something heavy.’

Obeying, though not having a clue what he was going to do, Shelly searched the room with her eyes. Spotting what looked like a very heavy candlestick on the desk she ran over, grabbed it up and met him at the staircase.

‘What now?'

‘Now we’re gonna have to make it look like an accident, as much as we can.’

She frowned. ‘How?’

 ‘Well, let's just say he fell down the stairs and hit his head just here. It’s possible, people fall downstairs everyday, don’t they?’ He took the brass candlestick from her, raised it above his own head and brought it crashing down on the guard's head, leaving a huge indent in his skull.

Shelly flinched, then watched as he placed the guard to look like he’d fallen down the stairs and caved his head in on the corner of the staircase.

Stepping back, he looked at the body, studied the angle of the fall from all directions then, nodding his satisfaction, he then turned to Shelly. ‘OK, it's your call. You either get out of here as if you’ve never been, or you carry on with what you came to do. Make your mind up while I wash this.’

Taking the candlestick into the small toilet and washroom off the library, he ran the tap until the water was scalding hot, then washed the tiny fragments of bone, flesh and spots of blood off the candlestick, making sure that it was spotless as he dried it.

 Returning it to its place, he said to Shelly, ‘Well?’

Shelly lifted her head, and with a look of pure determination said, ‘I came here to do something, and I’m not going until it’s finished, one way or another. I won’t be happy until I see this hell hole burnt to the ground, and those bastards with it.’

He nodded. ‘OK, just let me finish up here.’

Walking over to the body, he lifted the head up and with both hands squeezed the flesh on each side of the wound, draining as much blood out as he could.

‘What the...?’

‘Last thing we want is anyone to think that he was dead before he hit his head.’

Shelly swallowed hard. ‘I suppose so.’

He smiled. ‘Right. I suggest I take you into his room, see if he wants you.’

Shelly shivered, remembering the last time she’d been in the Leader's bedroom.

‘You sure about this?’ Mitch asked her.

‘Yes… No… Yes.’ Holding her head high, the last 'yes' was spoken with great determination.

He shrugged. ‘But only if you’re certain, girl. Me, I would get the hell outta here now if I was you.’

She shook her head adamantly. ‘No.’

‘OK, but you know there isn’t a lot I can do except wait outside the door to help you if you succeed.’

‘If I succeed, what will the plan be then?’

‘Then we let these poor bastards go. Might have to kill some of the hired guns first, but I think I’ll be able to talk them round. What would be the point of staying, unless one of those jerks wanted to set themselves up as the kingpin? Doubt it, though. The best thing is to get outta here and hope they’re never traced again.’

‘What if they want to kill those in the drug sheds, so that they will never be recognised?’

‘We’ll cross that when we come to it… For now?’ He raised one eyebrow in a question.

‘I’m ready,’ she replied, the determination flooding back into her eyes. ‘Take me in.’

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Kirill Tarasov watched from the veranda of his apartment as family members started leaving for their places of origin. Five helicopters waited in the hotel heliport. Two had already left. One of those had been transporting his daughter and son home.

Which is just as well, he thought, his hands squeezing the cushion from the chair at his side. He was staying on for another few days. He had a meeting scheduled with a very important woman tomorrow.

And now as he watched two other helicopters take to the sky, his thoughts were once again focused on the only woman he had ever in his whole life loved.

Why, he asked himself, what had been so different about her that she stood out from countless other women around the world?

How has she managed to stay hidden this long?

True, I gave up the search years ago.

But still rather amazing that with all my resources, I still couldn’t find her.

He turned away from the view and went inside. A small brandy was needed before he paid a visit to his illegal son. A visit he had been putting off for the last couple of hours, because he truly didn’t know what to do, and this was a situation he hated. He liked to be in charge, was used to being in charge. He drank the brandy down in one quick angry gulp.

Making his way upstairs, he opened the door to the locked room. Stepping inside, he blinked twice as his brain caught up with his eyes. The bed was empty, and the handcuffs were lying in the middle of the white sheet.

‘Where the hell...?’ he muttered, going over to the bed in disbelief.

Ten minutes later he was stamping back and forth in front of seven agents, waving his arms in the air, and demanding over and over how Mike Yorke had managed to escape from a locked room while handcuffed to a bed.

‘You.’ He swung round and addressed Josh Millar. ‘Where the fuck have you been all day, you must have seen something?’

Keeping his head down, Josh said, ‘No, sir. We’ve been busy getting people onto the helicopters.’

‘You, then.’ He pointed to a short, balding man standing next to Stone. ‘I thought you were in charge of the security cameras.’

‘Yes, sir, but nothing unusual was noted.’

‘Go through them again. And again, until you find something. It must be there on tape.’

‘Yes, sir.’ He turned and headed upstairs, followed by the agent who had been standing at the other end.

‘Fucking useless, the lot of you. What the fuck are we paying you for, when a man chained to a bed actually escapes, and no one sees him go? Impossible. It has to be an inside job.’

‘Sir, we searched the grounds,’ Agent Millar said, ‘as soon as we found out and…nothing.’

'It’s an inside job. He’s had help. Got to have had. Do your fucking job and find out who. Bring his…or her...head to me, or else I’ll have all of yours, every fucking one of you.’

The agents scattered to begin the search again, knowing that Tarasov was quite capable of carrying out his threat.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Shelly followed Mitch as he left the lift and strode down the corridor to the Leader's room. Inside, she was as determined as ever to see it through, though outwardly she appeared nervous. She knew this because her hands were shaking, but knowing the way that things were run around here, she reasoned that a show of nerves wasn’t a bad thing. To appear too cocky in any way would only anger the bastard.

Outside the door, Mitch whispered, ‘Last chance to back out. I can still get you away from here, without anyone ever knowing you were here. Don’t worry about that jerk who brought you in, he’ll have forgotten about you already.’ He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Really, Shelly, you don’t have to do this.’

Shelly took a deep breath, pursed her lips and took a step forward.

Taking that as her answer, Mitch knocked on the door.

‘Come,’ they both heard, a second later.

Mitch turned the handle and they both went inside. The Leader was lying stretched out on a queen-size bed, white silk sheets and red velvet hangings tied back with golden ropes. He was naked and lying on his stomach. Two slave girls, one at each side of him, were massaging his back. The look on his face was that of a man who had spent forever frowning at people.

‘Ah, a newbie.’ He grinned and Shelly felt sick inside.

‘Come here, girl, stand in front of me.’

Shelly moved forward, her hands in her pockets. With her thumb and finger she started to twist the top of the pen.

‘So, girl, you have a name?’

‘S…Susan,’ Shelly said, knowing she’d nearly made a big mistake, by saying her real name. So far the blonde hair is throwing him off, but if I’d said my real name, he might have looked harder.

Be careful. Think things through beforehand.

What the fuck’s the matter with this? She thought, as the lid on the insulin pen was proving to be stubborn.

Beginning to panic, she gripped the lid tighter and twisted. Another wash of panic swept over her as the lid refused to move. Fucking hell. Her heart began to race.

He sat up. ‘Go now.’ He looked at the slave girls, then at Mitch. ‘You as well, out now.’

‘Yes, my Leader,’ they said in unison as they backed out of the room.

‘No!’ Shelly said, her eyes wide in horror as she stared at the Leader.

 Thinking this was all part of her plan, Mitch left the room.

Feeling trapped the moment she heard the door close behind them, Shelly backed away, her eyes widening as the Leader got off the bed and stepped towards her.