Ready or Not (34 page)

             
She could try and make a run for it, but she knew the gun was loaded. If he shot her it’d be game over. And even he wouldn’t miss from this distance.

             
Matthew reached around Kate and took her left wrist in his hand, pulling her arm sharply behind her back. The feel of his skin on hers repulsed Kate and she panicked. Before he could close the handcuffs she lashed out in a knee jerk reaction and threw the fist of her free hand at his crotch. She caught him where she’d intended and he winced, losing his grip on her left hand. Her phone, which had fallen to the floor when Matthew had slammed on the brakes, began ringing and Kate lunged for it.

             
She was fast, but Matthew was unexpectedly faster. He swung his arm around and caught her in the stomach with his elbow before snapping his arm up; his fist smashing into her face.

             
Kate’s head jerked back with the impact. Pain seared through her face like fire and she reached instinctively for her nose. Lowering her hand, she saw her palm covered in blood.

             
‘I told you not to try anything clever,’ Matthew said, his words flowing quickly and his voice thick with anger. He held the gun next to Kate’s head, so close that she could feel the cold metal on her skull.

             
Kate, who had always thought Matthew quiet and unassuming – feeble, even – felt real fear now. Her face throbbed and she could feel blood pumping from her nose, which she suspected was broken. Keeping the gun to her head, Matthew reached across to the glove box. He opened it and fumbled about inside, but couldn’t find what he was looking for.

             
‘Shit,’ he mumbled. ‘Get your bag.’

             
When she didn’t respond he repeated the instruction, this time with more urgency, an edge of panic in his voice. She reached to the floor and put her handbag on her lap. She glanced at the phone and the caller ID. Chris.

             
‘You got any tissues?’ he asked, pressing the gun closer to her skull.               Kate shoulder’s hunched, her whole body cringing at the feel of cold metal on her head. She opened her bag and dug around amongst the assorted junk. She found a small pack of tissues at the bottom of the bag and pulled a handful from the plastic wrapper, quickly holding them to her face.

             
‘Put pressure on it,’ Matthew told her impatiently.

             
‘A thoughtful bully,’ Kate said through the tissues. ‘How nice.’

             
‘Just get on with it.’

             
Her mobile, still on the floor at her feet, stopped ringing.

             
The throbbing in her face worsened and she could feel blood trickling over her bottom lip and down her chin. The taste of it was metallic on her tongue. Matthew kept the gun close to her; his concentration fixed on her face.

             
‘Lose the mike,’ Matthew told her, waving the gun at her coat.

             
Kate manoeuvred herself awkwardly in her seat, struggling to get her coat off. She unbuttoned her cardigan and had to loosen the top beneath it to get to the microphone that was taped to her chest. From the corner of her eye she could see Matthew lowering his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of bare flesh.

             
‘What’s the matter, Matthew?’ she said spitefully, her voice high pitched and angry. ‘Not had any for a while?’

             
His fingers tightened again around the gun and Kate regretted her sarcasm. ‘Put it on the dashboard,’ he instructed. ‘Get the phone as well.’

             
Kate finally managed to remove the tape, wincing as it ripped at her skin, and she took the microphone and put it on the dashboard. She reached to the floor, picked up the mobile and put it next to the mike.             

             
‘Hands,’ he said again, pushing the gun closer.

             
This time, Kate did exactly what he said. She put her arms behind her back and, using just one hand, Matthew clamped his handcuffs around her wrists with one deft movement. 

             
‘You’ve been practicing,’ Kate commented bitterly.

             
Ignoring her, Matthew put the gun in his door pocket. He took the mobile from the dashboard and switched it off, but not before checking who’d tried to contact her.

             
‘How the fuck do you think you’re going to get away with this?’ Kate spat, her anger overshadowing her fear.

             
Leaning over her, making Kate’s whole body cringe, Matthew opened the window and launched the phone over the wall that ran along her side of the lane. He ignored her words and avoided eye contact.

             
He moved into first gear and pulled back out onto the main road before joining the slip road onto the A470. The trees that lined the hard shoulder whipped past them as Matthew increased his speed. He pulled sharply into the outside lane, swerving around a crawling lorry.

             
‘Where are we going?’ Kate asked, not turning to look at Matthew.

             
‘Wait and see,’ he replied.             

             
They passed a succession of cars travelling in the inside lane. As they headed towards Cardiff the sky became increasingly heavy, dark clouds boiling above them. They took the next turning off, keeping to the right and heading into the industrial park of Treforest.             

             
Kate turned to face the window. She wanted to stay strong, but she was more scared than she had ever been in her life. Her face felt swollen and her head light; she had never felt pain like it. She felt her eyes filling and urged herself not to cry.

             
And there was me thinking you weren’t really cut out for the job, she thought bitterly.

             
Was anyone who they really claimed to be anymore?

             
Matthew drove further into the industrial estate past factories, offices and garages where Kate could see workers through the windows. She hoped that someone would turn around and see her bloodied face through the glass; would call for help and raise the alarm. At least then Chris would know where she was.

             
No one looked out to see her. Matthew was driving too fast then they were past the office blocks and heading towards the disused warehouses at the far end of the estate. They kept going until they reached a wide, empty expanse of car park where Matthew stopped the engine and reached once again for the gun.

Forty Eight

Chris crossed the park on foot. He walked hurriedly, scanning the playing fields for the other officers mingling with the families and couples enjoying their Saturday morning off work and school. There were plenty of people around, despite the chilly temperature, but none of the faces were those he wanted to see.

              He went into the café. At a window seat two of the younger officers were sitting drinking coffees, merging with the scenery as best they were able to. To an unknowing eye they looked just like anyone else, Chris supposed. To him, now that something didn’t feel right, the pair of them looked bloody obvious.

             
‘Something’s wrong,’ he said, sitting opposite them.

             
The male officer looked at his watch. It was quarter past twelve. ‘They’re late,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t Matthew bringing her for five to?’

             
‘Supposed to be.’

             
Chris looked around the café. There had been no sign of Kate or Neil. He saw two other officers sitting at an outside table. The female looked through the window, raising her shoulders slightly when she saw Chris looking at her questioningly. Chris responded with a mirrored shrug and a concerned expression. It wasn’t their fault, but was no one able to offer anything more constructive?

             
‘Even if Matthew and Kate had been held up, where the hell is Neil Davies? He should be here, waiting for her.’

             
Chris reached for his mobile and called the station. The officers at his table watched, hearing one half of the conversation. Chris’ voice, usually calm and composed, was uncharacteristically fraught. 

             
‘They left half an hour ago,’ Chris said as he ended the call. He put a hand to the top of his head and gripped his hair in a fist. ‘Shit.’

             
‘It only takes five minutes,’ the girl said, infuriating Chris with the obvious and with her lack of anything more substantial and helpful.

             
‘I know,’ he snapped. ‘We just drove it.’

             
The girl was taken aback by his abruptness; she looked down at her lap and picked at her nails, avoiding any further outburst.

             
As he spoke, Chris’ mobile began to ring in his pocket. He reached quickly for it and, to his relief, saw Kate’s temporary mobile number flashing up at him on the screen. He nodded to the officers sitting opposite him and answered the phone.

             
‘Kate?’

             
The line went dead. He repeated her name, but she – or whoever had her phone – was gone. He pulled Kate’s number up on his phone and quickly called her back. It rang for what seemed ages before cutting off to the answer phone. He started to leave a message but cut off halfway through. Instead, he tried again. This time it cut straight to the answering service without ringing.

             
‘She’s in trouble,’ he said. ‘Shit.’

             
This time he banged the table with his fist, arousing the attention of the girl behind the counter and the handful of other customers at the far side of the café.

             
‘What did she say?’ the male officer asked.

             
‘Nothing. She didn’t say anything.’

             
‘Did you hear anything? Background noise?’

             
Chris shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

             
He phoned through to Clayton who was sitting in his car at the far end of the park. There was no need for discretion anymore; Neil Davies wasn’t at the park and he wasn’t likely to turn up there either. Something hadn’t gone to plan and whatever it was the bastard seemed to know about it.

             
Where the hell was he?

             
What the hell had happened to Kate and Matthew?

             
‘Has anyone seen him?’ Chris asked. He heard the panic in his own voice. He had told Kate that she would come to no harm. He had promised her that he would be there.

             
He wasn’t.

             
Clayton’s voice was filled with concern. ‘No sign of him.’

             
‘We need to find my car,’ Chris said. ‘I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but Kate and Matthew are both in danger.’

Forty Nine

Matthew opened the door and put an arm around Kate as she stepped out of the car, trying to hide her handcuffs in a kind of bizarre embrace as if they were a couple stopping for a hurried tryst in the most unromantic of settings. In front of them stood a derelict warehouse, unused for years, half its roof missing. There were no windows, just a small door on the left of the building which was shut tight. The door handle on the outside had been removed.

             
‘Walk,’ Matthew said. ‘Try to run and I’ll shoot you in the back.’

             
For a while in the car Kate had wondered if she was now seeing the real Matthew Curtis; a regular hard man who hit women and toted guns like some skinny, unlikely action film villain. She doubted she was. This was Matthew Curtis: Matthew Curtis who bumbled his clumsy way through the station like a fart in a bottle, walking into things and tripping over his own shadow. She was sure he was bluffing, and still believed that, if challenged, he would prove himself to be the coward she’d always thought him to be; although after the nose incident, she realised she wasn’t dealing with a harmless little boy anymore. Matthew Curtis, like so many other men in her life, was not who he seemed to be.

             
If she tried to run, she was now certain he would shoot her. 

             
Matthew rapped at the steel door: three knocks. It was a few moments before they heard footsteps from within, then a lock and several bolts being opened on the other side. The door was pulled open and Matthew pushed Kate in front of him, into the gloom. She felt the barrel of the gun jammed into the small of her back.