Kaleidoscope (21 page)

"Why do you want that?" Hellam asked, confused.

"The code."

Hellam thought for a second
–
why should Kelser need the laptop; what did he have planned? He contemplated giving a fake code, but at best that would only buy him a few seconds and he realised he had little to bargain with.

"8349284, why do you want..."

Hellam felt the gun pull away before something collided with the side of his head and darkness suddenly fell.

***

The two men placed full-face balaclavas over their heads and pulled them down to conceal their features as Sarah watched, terrified. The lights that shone down on her were bright and she struggled with her bound hands behind her back. But it was no use; they had been tied too securely, as had her legs, which were bound with plastic cable ties to the thick wood of the chair. She wondered briefly why the two men were hiding their features now; after all, Sarah had already seen their faces.

You fool! S
he thought as shards of panic pricked her skin,
they're hiding them from the camera, not you. They don't need to hide from you because you won't be around when they've finished.

She screamed again, feeling her throat burn from the continued effort. She prayed that someone would hear, but knew that wouldn't happen. The two men weren't concerned about the noise she was making so they had obviously brought her to the middle of nowhere
–
to hell.

She had tried reasoning with them, but they had remained silent as they prepared the camera and re-positioned her chair, dragging her across the dusty concrete floor.

The hunched man positioned himself behind the camera and turned it towards her. Sarah watched as the other one walked slowly over to the metallic table and shuffled the objects around for a moment as if deciding on which he should use. The steel objects clinked together and grated on the metal surface of the table. She saw the hunched man look over and give a thumbs-up. A small red spot of light flashed above the lens of the camera and Sarah suddenly felt herself collapse inside as all hope dissipated. The tattooed man turned and began to walk casually towards her. He slipped a metallic object over his fingers. The object resembled four thick, steel rings all connected together. He flexed his fingers and then gripped hard around the knuckle duster to form a huge fist. He paused as he stood over her and glanced at the camera. Only his eyes were visible but Sarah could tell he was smiling as they shone in the bright lights.

The world seemed to slow down around her and she stared up at the man before her as tears fell. There was nothing left for her now and she knew the end was inevitable. She felt a curious relief which surprised her as she watched him slowly retract his arm and stand poised, ready to release his fist. The terror she had felt just moments earlier had suddenly receded and her relief was born from knowing that soon it would all be over. But it was accompanied by something else
–
uncompromising sadness; sadness for her daughter who would now have to grow up having never truly known her mother. This was all she could think about as she stared at the butterfly tattoo on the huge arm. Sarah
’
s tears fell not for herself, but for Cassie and she wished she could go back and start her life over; start it from scratch. If she could do this, she would do it so very differently, except for Cassie
–
Cassie would be her constant.

Suddenly there was a deafening explosion from across the barn and Sarah shrunk down into her shoulders. She saw the tattooed man turn and she watched as the hunched figure behind the camera fell backwards and crumpled to the floor. The man before her stepped backwards as he looked over to the door of the barn, shock clearly visible in his eyes through the narrow slit of the balaclava.

Sarah turned to look but before she had time there came a second explosion and the large man stumbled backwards. A scarlet stain began to form around a single hole in the man's lower chest and he shuffled his feet backwards, eyes staring in disbelief. He pulled off the balaclava and looked down at the growing red stain on his shirt before falling to the floor by the barn wall. He slumped back and dragged in long, laboured mouthfuls of air.

Sarah looked around and saw someone walking slowly towards her. She couldn't see him clearly; the huge floodlights hindered her view, but as he stepped over the cables and past her, she noticed the thick scar running the length of his left cheek. He glanced at her, his face showing no emotion as he strode past and behind the camera. He flicked it off and the red light faded then he went over to the hunched man who lay motionless on the floor. He regarded him nonchalantly for a moment and Sarah noticed a gun which was held between loose fingers in his right hand. He tightened his grip and aimed again at the body before firing another shot and the corpse lurched from the impact. Sarah turned away, stifling another scream, then looked back.

She saw the gunman casually walk over to the larger man, sitting with his back to the wall and staring in terror at the approaching threat. He crouched down beside him and gazed silently for a moment.

"Hal," the scarred man said finally and pointed the gun to the butterfly tattoo on the wounded man's arm. "It isn
’
t a bird at all; it was a butterfly all along."

Hal kept his eyes locked on the scarred man and continued to force his lungs into movement. He coughed and blood fell from his mouth and down his chin.

The scarred man reached into his pocket, pulled out a small piece of paper and held it in front of Hal's face.

"Do you recognise her?" he asked.

Hal appeared to study the photo for a moment then shook his head violently as he looked back at the scarred man
–
pain and desperation twisting his face into unnatural expressions.

"Her name is Hannah Jacobs and five years ago you and a man called Jonah murdered her in her home.
”
He tilted his head sideways.
“
Do you remember now?"

Hal said nothing and continued to make unpleasant choking sounds as he stared at the man before him with rapidly glazing eyes.

"I think you do remember," the scarred man said and then looked down at the wound in Hal's chest. "Your lungs are filling with blood. You're going to drown in it soon."

Hal didn't move or make any sound other than the constant rasp as air and liquid was pushed from his lungs. He coughed again and fresh blood appeared around his mouth.

Suddenly the scarred man stood up and pointed the gun at Hal's head. "The pain you
’
re feeling now will only get worse as your lungs fill with blood. You
’
ll be in agony soon.
”
He glanced at Sarah then turned back to Hal and raised the photo in his other hand so Hal could see the picture of the girl.
“
Say her name and I'll make it quick."

Sarah's eyes bulged as she watched Hal glare at the scarred man then move slowly over to focus on her. He looked at her for a moment as if she was able to save him from what was going to happen, and for some inexplicable reason, she felt sympathy for the man who was going to kill her just a few moments earlier.

He looked back at the gun, inches from his face, and gurgled something then winced in obvious pain.

The scarred man leaned forward. "Say her name and it will all be over."

"H... H..." Hal said through forced, unpleasant breaths and his face contorted as muscles tightened from the agony. "H
…
Hannah," he finally managed to blurt out and looked up, his eyes filling with water.

The scarred man turned and looked at Sarah, who knew instantly what she was to do. She turned her head away and closed her eyes. The deafening crash of thunder came seconds later. The gun was fired and Hal's choking breaths were finally silenced.

Sarah tried to scream but only a croak came out. She heard the scarred man approach her, his footsteps the only sound in the silent barn. She began to tremble as she felt his presence beside her, but still refused to turn and face him.

Suddenly she heard a snap and the plastic bindings on her arms became loose. She pulled her arms round before her and felt a wave of relief in her shoulders. Finally, she looked up at the scarred man. He bent down and used a knife to cut the cable ties that restrained her ankles then stood up and helped her to her feet. She was trembling as she felt his hand touch her arm and when she looked up, she found that he was staring at her.

"Please..." she said quietly but not knowing how to finish the sentence.

He gently squeezed her arm and she remembered how he had done the same thing a few days before when he had visited her with the others.

"You don't need to worry; no one will hurt you now."

She continued to tremble as she regarded his face. He wore it like a mask and his muscles barely moved as he spoke. The thick, light pink hue of the scar was dominating the left side of his face. As she looked, and as he squeezed her arm, she noticed that his mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something else, but then it slowly closed. For one fleeting moment, she saw something behind his eyes that seemed out of place and alien for some reason, as if it was no longer welcome there - warmth.

He led her out through the barn door and into the cool night. He took her to a car and opened the driver
’
s side where he gestured for her to sit down, which she gladly did. She sat with the door open and her feet resting on the ground outside as he disappeared around the back of the car. She heard him open the boot and the car rocked as he pulled something out. She turned to see, but her line of vision was obscured. She could only listen, hearing him drag something back into the barn.

When he returned he pulled something else out of the boot then closed it and stood beside her, holding a small cardboard box under one arm. When Sarah looked up, she noticed that yet again his mouth opened slightly before slowly closing, as if thinking better of whatever he was going to say. He pulled out some keys from his pocket and handed them to her.

"Take the car... go... go to wherever
…
you want to go." The words came out stilted and with pauses between them, as if he had more to say.

Sarah glanced down at the keys, barely able to believe what was happening. "You're letting me go?"

"Of course."

"What about you? What..." again she couldn't think of anything to complete the thought.

"Go," the scarred man ordered and pushed her legs into the car then slammed the door shut behind her.

Sarah watched as he walked away then she turned the keys in the ignition. She drove along a dirt path towards a road, glancing back and seeing the man disappear back inside the barn, still carrying the box.

She had no idea where she was, but took a left when she hit the main road and turned on the lights. The dark countryside slipped away behind her as she approached civilisation and she began to cry. She tried not to think about how close she had come to death or about the days she had spent in the tiny cage, not knowing if it was day or night. She concentrated on her daughter's face and that alone managed to guide her to familiar roads.

By the time she reached Surrington, the salty tears had dried on her face and lethargy had overwhelmed her. She felt drained as she pulled up outside her building and lifted her body out of the car on legs made of jelly. The stairs and corridors that led to her flat seemed darker and more hostile than usual and Sarah felt a sting as fresh tears welled.

Don't lose it now,
she told herself and blinked hard as she reached her door. She suddenly realised that she didn't have her keys and cursed herself for being so stupid. She had no idea where the keys could be now - probably taken by one of her abductors, but she tried the door anyway and found it was open. They had obviously left it unlocked when they had taken her. She took a deep breath and went inside the dark room.

Images flashed through her mind - the silhouette of the hunched figure in her bedroom and his awkward lunge towards her - but she pushed them away. Turning on the light, she went to her drawers and, breathing hard, pulled out the stash of money from the metallic box. She couldn't help the smile from creeping on her face as she discovered it was still there then she pushed the notes into her pocket. She looked around but saw nothing else she required and went to leave.

She paused when she reached the doorway and looked over in the direction of her bedroom. Through the open door, the room was in darkness and appeared identical to how it had a few days earlier when the man had been waiting for her. She fought against the instinct to leave and walked towards it. She glanced inside and saw her bed in disarray with the broken lamp resting on the carpet. Reaching in, she turned on the light and saw the scene fully illuminated. In the corner of the room, where the man had been waiting, she saw a plastic bottle lying on the floor but ignored it. Her attention was focused on her bedside cabinet and the object that wasn't there.

Slowly walking over, Sarah felt her breathing quicken and forced her reluctant legs to continue. They felt as if they were going to fall away from beneath her at any moment but she had to continue; there was something she wanted - something she needed. The cabinet was askew and pulled away from the wall due to the fracas days earlier and she leaned over to see the gold-rimmed frame lying by the wall.