Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset (33 page)

Liz began to fight, but she could do nothing at all against Smiler, Big Ears and Mumbles. They lifted her bodily and took her behind one of the overgrown privet hedges where nothing more exciting than a weekly mowing and a spring planting had happened for nearly half a century. They dumped Liz in the now long grass. Mumbles held her arms, Smiler pulled her trousers down and Big Ears prepared himself to take the first ride.

Liz suddenly stopped struggling. What the hell was the use? But she didn’t close her eyes. As Big Ears lay on top of her, forcing her legs apart and rhyth
mically exciting himself by noting her pain reaction as he pinched and pulled the nipple of her left breast, she tried to will her body not to respond, tried to pretend the pain belonged to someone else. He bit her lip, forcing her mouth open against his. But still she did not close her eyes. She gazed into his, clouded and vacant with lust, hating him, willing him to die. He didn’t. He just worked stolidly and mindlessly towards a crude mechanical climax.

Meanwhile, Jim-Jim got back into the truck and backed it into the side road, while Lookers sat on the edge of the pavement and cradled his two-two rifle with the barrel pointing generally in Greville’s direction. And Greville did nothing.

Now that his active force had been temporarily reduced, Nibs handled his revolver carefully. He stood two paces back from Greville. He was taking no chances.

Nibs listened eagerly to the subdued noises behind the hedge. Occasionally, there was a grunt. Occasionally, Liz could not avoid letting out a low animal moan. Nibs smiled. The beads of sweat became larger on his downy upper lip. He was getting more sensual pleasure out of the situation than if he had been on top of Liz himself.

Much more, thought Greville. For besides being a killer Nibs was a sadist. God alone knew what had happened to him to turn him into what he was. It must have been something pretty ghastly. Or a whole lot of things that were pretty ghastly … He tried not to think about Liz … He tried only to think of a way of getting a gun before he himself was shot.

Still keeping his revolver trained on Greville, Nibs took a quick look over the hedge. ‘Big Ears has finished,’ he said conversationally. ‘Your dear lady looks as if she’s enjoying it, Uncle. You must have been starving her. Never mind, she ought to have a pretty full belly by the time old Mumbles has finished with her. Mumbles doesn’t say much, but he’s got talent.’

Jim-Jim, gun in hand, had returned from parking the truck. ‘I can hear something,’ he said.

Nibs laughed. ‘It’s only hot bottom having fun. Smiler’s on the job.’

‘No. I mean a car engine. Listen.’

They listened.

‘It’s a car all right,’ said Lookers, rising briefly into eloquence. ‘Shall we let it through, Nibs? We got a nice enough haul for one day.’

But Nibs was drunk with power. ‘Not on your nelly.’ He peered over the hedge. ‘Let Smiler finish his ride by himself. She isn’t going to stand up and cheer. The rest of us are going into routine. There’s another one coming.’ He turned back to Greville. ‘Come across the road, Uncle, and lie down – unless you want to have it now.’

Greville walked obediently across the road and lay down in a gateway, while Nibs stood behind him. Jim-Jim had disappeared and was already
gunning the truck’s engine. As far as a casual observer was concerned, the road was deserted – except for a station wagon apparently parked at a crazy angle to the kerb.

Greville permitted himself to hope a little. Not too much, but a little. If only the car that was coming contained two or three well-armed men!

For about a hundred yards the road was straight. Then there was a slight bend. Nibs had chosen his spot carefully. It was not the kind of road where you would expect trouble. It was suburban, dead, uninteresting.

Suddenly the oncoming car appeared round the bend. It was an ancient Land Rover with tarpaulin covers over the back. Nibs raised an arm. Someone on the other side of the road repeated the signal. Jim-Jim brought the truck roaring out of the side road. There was a screeching of brakes as the Land Rover pulled up.

It’s now or never, thought Greville. But Nibs had anticipated him. Even as he leaped to his feet the revolver came crashing on to the back of his head. He blacked out and went down again. By the time he returned to consciousness, the driver of the Land Rover was already out of his car and being interrogated by Nibs and Big Ears. Mumbles was standing beside Greville, his rifle ready and a benign expression on his face.

Greville’s hopes faded rapidly. The driver of the Land Rover wore the long black habit of a priest.

In almost any other situation the priest would have been a comic figure. As it was, he seemed pathetic and grotesque. He was a plump, bald man of about fifty. He faced the four homicidal youths who barred his path with an odd mixture of bewilderment and self-confidence.

However, his reactions must be reasonably fast, thought Greville, for he had managed to stop his car much quicker than Greville had done. The Land Rover now lay about ten yards behind Greville’s station wagon; and the fat priest had come ambling towards the boys almost eagerly, as if he simply could not see the guns that were pointed at him. So eager did he seem to be that he literally fell over himself and appeared to twist an ankle – to the intense amusement of Nibs, Big Ears, Jim-Jim and Lookers.

Smiler was still behind the hedge with Liz, working steadily to his appointed end and at the same time trying to make up his mind whether she had really fainted or was just shamming. Mumbles, despite the diversion in the roadway, kept his eyes on Greville. He wasn’t taking any chances at all.

The priest got to his feet, winced with pain, limped a couple of steps and then sat down again. He looked up at Nibs, squinting against the sunlight.

‘Good morning, father,’ said Nibs. ‘God be with you.’

‘My son, what on earth are you playing silly tricks for? If I hadn’t managed to brake quickly I might have suffered a very serious injury. I might even have been killed … As it is, I doubt very much whether I shall be able to do any more driving today. My leg hurts abominably, and my nerves are quite shaken.’

This little speech was greeted by a gale of laughter.

‘Be consoled, father,’ said Nibs. ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you haven’t just been granted a Sign. God moves mysteriously, I believe. He may even have decided to terminate your driving career altogether.’

Nibs was clearly at the top of his form. His remarks provoked more laughter, and Big Ears seemed to be on the point of having a convulsion.

‘My son,’ said the priest indignantly, ‘it does not do to mock the cloth.’

‘I stand reproved,’ said Nibs. ‘Now, fat arse, what have you got in the back of your agony wagon?’

The priest blinked. ‘Nothing, I’m afraid, but two poor children … Please don’t frighten them. They’re rather sensitive.’

Nibs turned to Lookers. ‘Go and get an eyeful. Fat arse may be playing games.’

‘Please!’ said the priest. He seemed to be trying to stand up again. But Lookers had almost reached the Land Rover.

Then miracles began to happen thick and fast.

In a loud voice, the priest shouted, ‘Now!’ At the same time, he simultaneously launched himself at Nibs, grabbing him round the knees and bringing him down, revolver and all.

While that was happening, Mumbles momentarily took his eyes away from Greville. It wasn’t much of a chance, thought Greville, but it was the best he was likely to get. He rolled over, grabbed the nearest foot and threw Mumbles off balance. The boy tried to bring his rifle round, but Greville held the barrel; and a bullet ricocheted peevishly along the road. Then Mumbles was down. All Greville’s pent up fury broke loose. With one hand, he grabbed the boy’s throat, lifted him bodily and brought his head crashing back against the hard pavement. Mumbles sighed and lay still.

Meanwhile, from somewhere in the back of the Land Rover, a sub-machine gun chattered loudly and briefly. Lookers clutched his stomach, spun like a top and fell. The same burst swept by to include Jim-Jim and Big Ears. Jim-Jim ran three paces then doubled up and lay twitching and screaming. Big Ears just stared – a look of utter disbelief on his face – as blood spurted from his neck and chest. Then he slumped soundlessly forward.

‘Enough!’ shouted the priest. He was lying on top of Nibs, whose arm was twisted behind his back and whose face was pressed into the roadway. The priest had his revolver. He was pointing it at Smiler’s white startled face which had just appeared over the top of the hedge.

Greville raised his own arms quickly. He didn’t want to get shot by mistake. ‘That’s all of them,’ he called. ‘You’ve got the lot.’

The priest’s eyes – no longer weak or comic – flickered briefly towards him. ‘Keep your hands up,’ he said. ‘We don’t want any silly mistakes, do we? He turned to Smiler once more. ‘Now, smart boy, come through that hedge very slowly – if you want to live a little longer.’

Smiler forced his way through the hedge. His trousers were hanging round his ankles. He made a move to pull them up, but the priest said: ‘Dress will be informal. Stay still!’

Smiler stayed still.

‘Look,’ said Greville, ‘they’ve been raping my girl. She’s behind the hedge. Can I go to her?’

‘Charming,’ said the priest. ‘Stay still. What about the one you got?’

‘I belted his head,’ said Greville. ‘He’s still breathing.’

The priest called towards the Land Rover: ‘All right, children, come out.’

The tail gate was lowered and two girls – neither of whom could have been
more than twenty – got out. One carried a shotgun, and the other an automatic rifle.

‘Are you all right, Father Jack?’ asked the girl with the shotgun.

‘Quite all right, my dear,’ said Father Jack, standing up. He turned to Greville once more. ‘Collect all the hardware,’ he indicated the weapons lying by Smiler, Jim-Jim, Big Ears and Lookers, ‘and don’t be clever. Put them in the middle of the road. Then you can see whether your girl is still with us.’

Greville did as he was told. Then he went into the tiny little garden where Liz had been taken.

She lay as Smiler had left her, in the long grass. She was completely naked and looked as if she had taken a hell of a beating; but she was still conscious. One of her eyes was badly bruised and almost closed up. There was blood running from a swollen lip and teeth marks all over her shoulders and breasts. There were two wide yellowish-blue patches on her belly.

She recognised Greville, tried to smile and couldn’t. ‘I told you I wasn’t much good for anything but screwing,’ she whispered hoarsely, so low that he could hardly hear. Then suddenly, she rolled over and was violently sick.

Greville knelt and supported her shivering retching body. ‘Oh, Liz! I brought you into a real dose of trouble, didn’t I?’ He wanted to comfort her and murmur stupid tender things, but all the words were frozen inside him.

Presently, she stopped vomiting. He gathered her torn shirt and trousers and helped her to put them on. Then he hunted for her shoes and found that they had been thrown under the hedge.

She tried to stand up. She could get to her feet, but she couldn’t stand upright. Nor could she move. Greville picked her up gently and carried her out of the garden. He took her to the station wagon and laid her on the passenger seat. Tears were trickling down her face, but the crying was soundless and without any movement. He found some brandy and offered it to her, but she just turned her head away.

Greville closed the car door and went towards Father Jack. Despite the cassock, Father Jack did not look at all like a priest now. He seemed to have grown visibly thinner and taller. No longer a comic figure, he looked tough and purposeful.

Mumbles had returned to consciousness, and Father Jack had lined him up with Nibs and Smiler, whose trousers were still round his ankles. The three youths had their hands on top of their heads.

As Greville left Liz one of Father Jack’s ‘children’ went to her. The other kept her automatic rifle pointing at the three boys. With the revolver that he had acquired from Nibs, Father Jack administered the
coup de grace
to Jim-Jim, who had not stopped screaming from the moment he was hit. The shot rang out and Jim-Jim’s screams ended abruptly.

The silence that followed seemed extraordinary – something far more subtle than a mere absence of sound.

‘Well, now,’ said Father Jack, ‘we live in exciting times, don’t we? How did you come to get mixed up with these bad lads?’

‘The same way as you,’ said Greville and told him what had happened.

When he had finished, Father Jack looked at Nibs thoughtfully. ‘I’m beginning to think that you are a shade anti-social, my son.’

‘Shove the crap,’ said Nibs. ‘You were lucky, but that’s the way it goes. Today, you, tomorrow somebody else. Nobody gives a damn about anything. Why should they? We’re all bleeding nuts.’ Nibs was pale but his voice was steady.

Suddenly, Greville felt bitterly sorry for him. Suddenly, Nibs was not just a boy psychopath: he was all of mankind. He was the human tragedy writ small … He was also a homicidal sadist …

At that moment, Mumbles rose to a brief eloquence. He had been standing there with a dazed expression on his face and blood trickling steadily down his neck from the head wound he had gained when Greville slammed him against the stone pavement.

‘I want to say something,’ said Mumbles. ‘You’re going to kill us, I know that. But I want to say something. I want to say I’m sorry. Not just for this. Not for trying to get you, or screwing the girl or anything like that … I don’t know what I want to say really … I just want to say I’m sorry … Maybe I’m sorry because it’s such a bloody rotten world … Maybe I’m sorry because this is the one we lost.’ His voice broke. ‘I don’t know. I’m just sorry, that’s all. There’s nothing else to it.’

Father Jack gazed at him intently. ‘That’s a very interesting speech, my son. Kindly turn round. Your face saddens me a little.’

Mumbles turned round obediently, presenting the back of his head to Father Jack. With a rapid movement, the priest lifted his revolver and hit Mumbles with it just below the base of the skull. Mumbles fell without uttering a sound.