Numb: A Dark Thriller (36 page)

Then he left, slamming and locking the heavy iron door behind him. Riley heard him padlock the front. Then came the sound of the Toyota’s engine as he pulled away.

Riley looked at Sandra. She was coming round, but still looked ill. But, as for what McCabe could’ve done to her, she’d gotten off lightly. He looked down at himself, saw his ravaged lower half and assumed things could’ve gone worse for him also. He was a mess, but still alive. He was weak, but still breathing.

And things weren’t over for him yet.

He looked at the keys to the handcuffs and the manacles on the floor, out of reach.

Then he looked up at the handcuffs around his bloodied wrists.

It was now time for the hard part.

58

McCabe called Davison as he drove to Nash’s apartment.

“I know where they are,” he said as he steered carefully through the night-time traffic.

“Riley finally spilled the beans?” the detective asked.

“He didn’t have much choice in the end. Purvis has got some little hideaway place a few miles down the river. He’s holed up there with the kid.”

“What’s the address?”

McCabe told her where it was.

“If a call comes in I’ll stall it,” she said.

“Yeah,” McCabe said as Nash’s apartment block appeared before him. “Still keep an ear out for anything about the lock up. Riley and Sandra are still there.”

“You haven’t got rid of them yet?” Davison sounded surprised.

“Not until I get rid of Purvis and Nash.”

“What if Purvis isn’t there?”

McCabe smiled into the mouthpiece.

“I’ve been thinking about that. If he’s there then he dies – same as Nash. We dump the bodies for them to turn up later. If he’s not there, then I kill Nash anyway and dump his body somewhere. Then when you pick up Dainton at the meeting next week and Nash’s body will turn up a few days later and you can pin the murder on him too. If Purvis and the kid get it then you can pin all three of them on Dainton.”

“What about Riley and the girlfriend? You should’ve taken care of them first.”

“No,” McCabe said as approached Nash’s apartment block. He could see that both Nash and Turner were waiting outside. “If I’ve been told lies I don’t want them to have a quick death. I’ll deal with both of them once Nash is out the way. Anyway, I’m at Nash’s now. He’s waiting at the door for me with Turner. I’m gonna have to hang up.”

“What are you going to tell him?” Davison asked. “Are you going to tell him you have Riley and Sandra?”

“No, he’ll know I’ve been holding out on him then. Besides, if he finds out then he’ll probably want to give them a beating first and one of them might open their mouth about me and put an idea in his head. We don’t want to overcomplicate this.” He was about fifty yards from the door now. “Anyway, I’ll think of something to tell him. Got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you what’s what.”

McCabe hung up without saying goodbye and a second after his phone was back in his pocket he had pulled up outside the front door and Nash and Turner were climbing in the back of the car.

“Right, let’s do this,” Nash said. He was dressed in one of his best suits and stank of brandy and aftershave. He looked out of his mind and didn’t even hide the gun he carried and instead sat with it cradled in his lap.

“Are you sure they’re at this place,” Turner asked, playing along.

“Yeah.” McCabe thought fast. “I broke into Purvis’s house and had a look around. Found a few documents that said he’d bought this place a few years back. I drove past there earlier tonight and saw a light on. Riley’s car was also parked nearby.”

“Why the hell have they come back here?” Nash asked. He snorted and wiped his nostrils and McCabe guessed he’d just vacuumed up another white line to give him a boost.

“I think they want to fight fire with fire,” McCabe said. “They know you won’t give up until you find them and so maybe they think their best chance is to take you out first.”

“Purvis hasn’t got the balls,” snapped Nash. “He’s a back-stabbing coward. He’s proved that.”

“Riley’s not though,” Turner said. “He’ll be the one to make a move.”

“Right, drive,” Nash said, sounding convinced.

McCabe pulled away and caught a glimpse of Nash in the back seat through the rear-view mirror. He was coked out of his tits, chewing the inside of his cheeks and staring madly out the window as he fidgeted in the seat. McCabe then caught sight of Turner, sitting alongside Nash.

Turner nodded at him and then looked out of the window as the car sped away towards the river.

Nash had about twenty minutes to live.

59

Everyone deserved punishment.

Nash, Turner and McCabe would get theirs providing everything worked out. For cheating and lying, Sandra had already received hers - although a gun shot to the leg, a beating, a kidnapping and a finger cut off was a little harsh. The stress Purvis was already under was his payback and if things hadn’t gone to plan then the rest of his life would be a constant torment of what ifs and could have beens...

And now, despite what he’d already been through, it was time for Riley to suffer some more.

He looked up at his cuffed hands. Studied the chain looped through them and then the beam the chain was hung over. Maybe the beam could be snapped.

Riley pulled down with all his strength, forcing every muscle in his upper body into overtime, but the beam stayed firm. He took a break, caught a few breaths and then tried again, this time pulling his legs up at the same time to try and snap the chain connected to the manacles around his ankles. Anything to free him up a little.

No luck.

Right, it was time for the big one. He had to free himself. The padlock on the outside of the door could easily be broken but the latch locking the inside wouldn’t give to any force from outside. The loading doors couldn’t be opened from the outside without a remote (that McCabe kept with his car keys) and so Riley had known from the start that he would have to do a Houdini somehow, get out of the cuffs and get the loading doors open. It had been part of the plan, and although he wasn’t looking forward to what he had to do, he knew it had to be done.

Weak and shaking from what he’d already been through, Riley relaxed his hands inside the cuffs and pointed his fingers towards the ceiling. He allowed his body to sag, his hands now supporting his weight.

Then he took several deep breaths to prepare himself.

Sandra was still only semi-conscious and wouldn’t witness this. That was good. What he was about to do to himself was almost more horrific than what McCabe had already done.

Riley pulled his arms down as hard as he could, the metal cuffs digging into his flesh instantly. More skin on his wrists ripped. More blood spilled. His arms shook. He felt instantly weaker.

Then he took several more deep breaths, cleared his mind and tried to summon up every last reserve of energy hiding within his wrecked body.

This is for Jamie Hudson!

He gritted his teeth and pulled down on the cuffs with all his strength, leaving his hands relaxed, his fingers flexed forward, giving no resistance.

Soon he felt the blood begin to drip and then quickly pool onto the back of his neck and shoulders. He heard the ripping of flesh and tendons and the grinding of bone. Still he kept pulling, not wanting to look up and see what damage he was inflicting upon himself. But he didn’t need to look up. He could imagine what was happening all too well. The flesh of his hands was being peeled away. The pads of his thumbs were being torn from the underlying skeleton as his thumbs themselves were slowly dislocating as they were pushed into the palm of his hand, slipping with great difficulty through the handcuffs.

Slowly but surely, he felt his arms lowering down to his body as the metal cuffs dug through his hands, flaying skin and breaking bones. The blood began to ooze more quickly and Riley tired to ignore it as it began to run like a shower above his head.

When one chunk of flesh slapped onto his right shoulder, he screamed and pulled harder until finally,
mercifully
, both hands slid free and he fell to the plastic sheeting with a noise reminiscent of a freshly caught fish being hauled onto a boat.

He fought down the bile in his throat and looked at the damage he’d done.

Both thumbs had dislocated and been pushed in toward his palms where they twitched like trodden worms. Skin had been pulled in chunks from the meatiest parts of his palms and the insides were a deep, glistening red. Tendons pulsated as though electricity were flowing through them. All of his fingers hand been skinned and several looked broken. Swollen veins were visible on the back of both hands and many were squirting blood. Lower down, he could see that he was missing six and a half toes and that his feet were blackened and swollen. There was no skin on his shins and his calf muscles had been cut in several places. There was a small drill-hole in each kneecap and his testicles and penis had been burnt so that the skin was puckered and black.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on his injuries.

With his hands no more than bloodied useless claws, he reached for the manacle key on the workbench, having to stretch until he thought his ribs would crack. Barely able to grip them (and needing both useless hands to do so) he inserted it into the hole in the manacle shackling his left leg.

After what seemed like hours he managed to unlock it and turn his attention to the other. His thumbs would barely move and refused to function. The blood that seeped from the myriad wounds made the key even harder to grip. His fingers barely worked. His hands were beyond repair.
He
was beyond repair.

Eventually, and with great difficulty, he managed to undo the second manacle. Once free he instinctively tried to stand but collapsed to the floor within seconds and so began to drag himself towards the loading doors by his elbows. Time was of the essence.

Sandra was awake by now. She was watching him with half-opened eyes but still didn’t seem to be fully aware of what was going on.

“It’s okay,” he said, finding the strength to speak. “We won.”

He dragged his ruined body off the plastic sheeting and across the floor to the loading doors, leaving a slick, red trail like a giant injured slug. He hit the ‘OPEN’ button and left a red claw-print behind that began to slop blood down the wall. The doors began to rise with a series of welcome clanks, revealing the very beautiful, very normal, very peaceful and mundane sight of the industrial estate cloaked in silent darkness.

There wasn’t a car or passerby in sight.

Riley lay on his side, his blood continuing to pool out underneath him, draining him of what little strength remained in his wrecked body.

“Come on, Purvis,” he said. “Where the fuck are you?”

60

McCabe switched the car headlights off as they hit the narrow road that led to the old Scout’s hall.

He held his breath as they approached the building and the niggling doubt in his mind about Purvis being here developed into panic. At the very least, he hoped there would be a light on inside. That would give them an excuse to at least leave the car and approach the building on foot to check the place out. Anything to get Nash out of the car and pop a bullet in him from behind.

McCabe relaxed a little when, through the branches of the trees that lined the road, he saw that there was indeed a light burning behind the closed curtains of one of the downstairs windows. The building itself had changed a lot since he’d last drove by here. Gone were the fallen down walls and caved in roof and the weeds and tall grass on the lands had been cut and tidied. The building had been extensively renovated and from the outside at least looked very habitable. All of which tied in with what Riley had told him; that Purvis had been doing the place up for the last year or so.

Then, there it was. Riley’s Mercedes parked around the side of the building. He’d said Purvis had dropped him off and come back here. Bingo!

“See, they’re here,” he told Nash, confidently as he pulled up by the side of the road.

Nash didn’t answer as he pulled a small medicine bottle from his pocket and tapped some coke onto the crook of his thumb and forefinger. After a good size measure up each nostril, he placed the bottle back in his pocket and raised his gun. His eyes were suddenly wider. His lips were pursed forward like he was sucking a boiled sweet. He sniffed several times and cleared his throat. Then he climbed from the car and quietly closed the door.

“What now?” McCabe asked Turner.

“Let’s carry on as planned.” Turner pulled out his own gun. Another Berretta. “Let’s take care of Purvis and the kid and then do Nash when it’s over. You do the kid, though. Okay?”

“Fine,” said McCabe, unbuckling his seatbelt.

They quickly joined Nash by the edge of the garden wall and looked at the house. It was maybe one fifty yards to the building, but that shouldn’t be a problem, McCabe guessed. They could hug the bushes on the right-hand side of the front garden and hide in the shadows as they made their way closer. That would take them to the left of the window with the light on. There was room underneath for them to sneak under and make it to the front door to try the lock or burst in. Whatever way they got inside, they were here now. The hard part was over. It was time to finish what had started as a little dream scheme between two men in prison and time to make things a reality.

“Come on,” Nash whispered and stumbled through the gates and into the garden. He looked unsteady on his feet and McCabe wondered if he’d make it to the house without falling. He was spurred on by anger and drugs - a deadly combination. They could make people erratic and spoil their judgement. Nash probably couldn’t shoot straight in that condition. Maybe Purvis might be armed and kill him for real and save them a job, McCabe thought as he followed him across the lawn.

They stopped by the side of the lighted window and all three readied their weapons.

“Listen,” Nash whispered.

Sure enough, when McCabe listened, he could here voices from inside. Purvis and Wendy. It sounded like he was reading her a bed time story.

Nash pointed towards the door and the three of them slid under the window towards it.

When he tried the handle and the door pushed inwards, he didn’t hesitate and walked quietly into the hall. He had no reason to suspect anything. The door was unlocked because Purvis was expecting Riley back at some point. And also, who knew that they were here? Purvis obviously thought that he and Wendy were safe.

Stupid fucker.

McCabe glanced at Turner. Turner nodded and they both followed Nash inside.

The hallway was dark and the only illumination was from a thin beam of light under a door to the left of them. As they walked closer, the voices grew louder and McCabe imagined Purvis and Wendy on the sofa, maybe under a thin blanket, him with his arm around her as he read from the book; Wendy lying with her head on his chest, maybe looking at the pictures as she sucked her thumb and hugged her teddy.

This was going to be so easy!

Nash stopped for a second at the door and looked back at McCabe and Turner. He didn’t say anything. Just raised his gun and nodded.

Then his hand was on the handle. A second later, his shoulder was shoving the door inwards. He followed the swing of the door and disappeared behind it just as McCabe and Turner stepped over the threshold.

Then the three of them froze.