Numb: A Dark Thriller (21 page)

31

“I’ve been in touch with that bloke about the passports. We’re leaving as soon as we can.”

Riley shot Purvis a look and then set his eyes back on the road. They’d been driving for close to ten minutes and were back in the city centre. Not much had been said until now, only small talk, but Purvis obviously decided he needed to get things off his chest and this was the only chance he’d get today. They’d be at the club in a few minutes, surrounded by people who kept their ears peeled at all times.

“That’s good,” Riley replied. “Michael junior’s in the ground. Things will start to get heavy quickly and you and the girls are best off out of it. How soon you talking?”

“A couple of weeks maybe. I have to pay half the money up front. I’m waiting to hear back from him to tell me where and when to meet him.”

“So I take it Sandra’s ready to cut loose from Nash. No more guilt?”

“I saw her yesterday – at the house.”

“
Your
house? Your
secret
house?”

“Where else?” Purvis forced a smile, as if remembering the times he and Sandra had spent together there. “Nash has made it obvious that he wants nothing to do with either her or Wendy. I think that’s what’s made Sandra’s mind up that now’s the time. She’s tried to stand by him until he recovers from his loss but he doesn’t want her. So why should she stay?”

Riley couldn’t argue with that.

“The sooner the three of you go the better,” he said. “Go far away. Start a new life. Be happy. Be safe.”

Purvis’s smile grew.“Thanks, Riley.”“For what?”“For understanding.”“Yeah, I’m all heart.”Purvis laughed for the first time in ages as Riley found a parking space just off the high street. They couldn’t park any nearer to the club than here and would have to walk the rest of the three hundred yards on foot. You got to it by walking down the alley between the supermarket and the off-licence and if you weren’t a member of the firm, a postman, a drayman or a pissy-smelling tramp who searched for food or slept in the alley then you probably wouldn’t even know the place existed. It was a small, one-roomed place that used to be an out of hours drinking den until a change in the licensing laws made it legit, and it was now a favourite members-only haunt for a lot of doormen who didn’t like to socialise in the bars and clubs that were their places of work.

As he climbed out the car Riley could see a few of the boys already heading towards the alley and the sight of so many big men in black suits was bringing a number of startled stares from the passers-by hurrying through the rain. The two of them soon followed.

The light dimmed considerably once inside the alleyway and the rain eased. Riley could see the group of about ten men approaching the door. Turner and the others hadn’t arrived yet but that wasn’t a problem. Most of the lads had keys to the place so they could access it when they liked, a real perk of working for Nash. Harry Knight was at the head of the group and he was reaching into his pocket for his key as he chatted with Terry Atkins. Tony Devlin was walking with three other doormen and it was he who actually stopped and pointed at something down by the door. Riley and Purvis were a good fifty feet behind them, but because of the echo they heard him clearly say, “Look at this.”

Then Knight replied, “What the fuck’s that doing here?” as he pointed the key at the lock.

Then Atkins, looking over Knight’s shoulder asked, “What’s what doing where?”

Devlin reached for whatever it was. Said, “It’s a wreath.”

“A wreath?”

“Yeah.”

“Who from?”

“The notes says...” and that was as far as Tony Devlin got. Those were the last three words to leave his mouth.

The alleyway lit up as he lifted the wreath from the ground and even though Riley and Purvis were still fifty feet away the explosion threw them backwards onto the cobbles.

The noise came a second later, a great boom, like thunder followed by the dull clanking of debris as the remains of the club door scattered in all directions.

Riley ignored the dizziness in his head and got to his feet. Purvis was on the floor, holding his ears. Behind them, several people were running up the alley from the high street. Turner, McCabe and Howden were among them, mouths open in shock.

Riley looked back to where the club door should be, and through the gloom and smoke saw that it had been blown off its hinges and that a small fire had erupted in the lobby. Several men lay writhing on the floor, moaning and screaming due to burns or shrapnel injuries. Three other men were clearly dead. Harry knight was blackened, smoke rising from his still body. Terry Atkins was lying further up the alley, a lump of brick embedded in his face where his left cheek should be. Tony Devlin’s body was badly burnt and his face horrendously disfigured. He’d also lost both arms below the elbow, his corpse leaning against the far wall of the alleyway.

Turner, McCabe and Howden ran past Riley to get to the survivors. Because of the ringing in his ears, Riley couldn’t hear what they were yelling at each other. He felt like he was in a dream. Shock had left him disorientated.

A bomb. Someone planted a fucking bomb!

He began to check himself for injuries but couldn’t see any. Then he felt a hand tug at the corner of his coat and looked down.

Purvis stared up at him. He had a deep cut to his forehead and blood was running into his eyes and down his face. His mouth moved, forming words.

“What?” Riley said, and barely heard himself. God, his ears were ringing so bad. He worked his jaw to see if it would help. It did, but only a little.

Purvis then pulled out his mobile phone and thrust it in Riley’s direction.

“Call Nash!” he shouted.

“We need to help people here first,” Riley said as he dragged Purvis to his feet.

“The girls!” Purvis yelled and shoved the phone into Riley’s hand.

Riley suddenly understood. If this had happened here, who was to say that something hadn’t been planned at Nash’s mansion too?

After all the praying he’d had to do earlier, he didn’t expect to be doing it again so soon.

But as he dialled Sandra’s number, he prayed she would answer.

32

Sandra played with Wendy’s hair as the hearse passed through the gates of the mansion and crawled slowly up the driveway towards the front of the house.

The journey back from the cemetery had only taken twenty minutes but for Sandra it had felt like twenty hours, the three of them sitting in silence, Nash opposite Wendy and herself, travelling backwards, gazing out of the window at the rain with eyes that were as damp and gloomy as the weather. It was like he was alone. It had been this way since the shooting. He’d just locked himself in the bedroom and cried and drank brandy and watched old home movies and drank more brandy and looked at old photographs and then cried and drank some more. Sandra had slept in Wendy’s bed this last week. It was as if Nash had forgotten that the two of them even existed. She’d always known that Nash could never love either of them as much as he had his son, but she’d never expected him to shut them out this much, not at a time like this. But, then again, people grieved in different ways. Some needed company, a hand to hold or a shoulder to rest their head on. Others needed space. Maybe the way he was acting was just a normal part of the grieving process. He’d snap out of it in his own time. He’d-

-
Don’t start to feel sorry for him
, a little voice inside warned.
He doesn’t love either of you. You don’t love him. Wendy won’t miss him. Let him ignore the two of you and it’ll make it easier for you to walk away...

Sandra smiled down at Wendy.

“You tired, Sweety?”

Wendy nodded.

“You can have a nap soon.” Sandra kissed Wendy’s forehead head. “Then everything will be okay.”

Yes, it would be. She
was
going to leave Nash, she reminded herself as the car pulled up outside the front door. Of that she was sure. 

Suddenly, Sandra found herself yearning for Purvis. She thought she could get through today of all days without thinking about him. But no, not anymore. Nash didn’t want her – he’d made that much obvious. If Purvis called right now and asked her to leave with him right this minute, she would. She wouldn’t even pack a bag for herself or Wendy. She’d just go to him and together they’d start a new life as a family somewhere and leave this stinking, dirty city and all the bad things it contained far behind them.

She looked up at the mansion. It was a prison more than a luxury home.

She wouldn’t miss the money. She wouldn’t miss the big cars and nice clothes. She wouldn’t miss anything. She wasn’t the same person she had been when she’d met Mike Nash four years before, and when she thought about it now, she realised just how childish she’d been to rush into a relationship with him after being flattered by his advances.

She’d never really found him all that attractive at first. It had been
who
he was that had attracted her to him. Sandra Wade, lowly waitress, living in a one bedroom flat and moving from dead-end job to dead-end job since she’d left home at nineteen, being chased by man like Mike Nash. Things like this just didn’t happen to her. She’d had a hard life; bullied at school for being both pretty and poor, and un-happy at home with a single mother who cared more about who to choose for her next boyfriend than her only child.

After a few months of going out (maybe with a little help from the holidays and clothes and spending money) she felt she could love this man. Nash was kind and generous. He protected her. He seemed to care for her.

But then Sandra soon became aware of his other side. His anger. His jealousy, and she soon became aware that one woman would never be enough for him, no matter how much she submitted herself to him whenever the mood took him. He cheated regularly and never seemed bothered to hide the evidence, be it a receipt for a hotel room or a packet of condoms in his wallet.

Yet Sandra could never find the strength to leave him. Where would she go? She hadn’t spoken to her mother in years. She had no real friends. No job. Nothing. She was trapped and so she stayed with him. Then she grew close to Purvis and finally realised what she needed in a man. She didn’t need power, or money, or excitement. She needed love and companionship. A month after they became lovers they talked about leaving together. Someday, yes, always someday, but no date was ever set. No real plan was put in place, as if both of them realised their dream of being together was exactly that – a dream.

And then, exactly one month after she’d been ill with stomach flu, exactly one month after her contraceptive pill must have failed thanks to the vomiting, and three weeks after she’d last slept with Purvis, she found out she was pregnant.

Purvis, being the kind and thoughtful man he was, said she had no choice but to stay with Nash for a while. They couldn’t go on the run when she was pregnant. There were midwife and doctors appointments for one thing. She could take bad and need a hospital at short notice. Plus, the added stress. No, when the child was born they could go.

Surprisingly, Nash softened after the pregnancy revelation. Despite the arguments and the fact that they were growing apart day by day, their sex-life had continued (sex whenever he wanted – despite any hostility - was expected of her, after all) and so Nash had never queried being the father. Sandra worried she’d be stuck forever with the new improved Mike Nash despite her feeling having moved on; the doting father and the caring partner paying for private clinics.

But she needn’t have worried. All of that stopped when Wendy was born.

Maybe a girl wasn’t what Nash had planned. He was a man’s man. No doubt another boy would’ve been better. Then again, maybe when the birth came he realised what came with it – sleepless nights, worry, responsibility - and simply didn’t want to know.

Soon the arguments started again and soon Sandra and Purvis talked about leaving again. But there were more appointments with nurses and doctors as Wendy – darling, precious Wendy - had been delivered by section and Sandra had to recover from the surgery. And was it wise to run when Wendy was so young and helpless? So fragile? Plus, she needed her vaccinations and things. She needed stability for the first several months of her life. Best wait a while. It’ll be safer. Safer for Wendy, not them. They were willing to take a chance and have Nash come after them. No, all the caution was for their precious daughter and the torment of their situation would be worth it in the end.

Finally, after two long years, the time had come.

Sandra flashed Wendy a confidence-boosting smile as the limo stopped in one of the parking bays across from the front door. The driver stepped out and hurried to the back door to let the three of them out.

Nash slowly climbed out first and didn’t look at Sandra or Wendy as he did so. It was like he’d been travelling alone. The driver continued to hold the door open for the mother and daughter but Sandra shook her head.

“It’s alright,” she told him. “Just go and open the front door. I’ll see to Wendy.”

The driver nodded before walking up to the house, overtaking Nash as he went.

Sandra reached over to unbuckle Wendy’s seatbelt. Heard her phone ringing inside her handbag. It almost startled her. She must have forgotten to switch it off for the service. But, saying that, who would have called her? Everyone she knew would be at the service.

When she pulled it from her handbag her stomach flipped. It was Purvis.

Was this telepathy?
she thought, stupidly.
Had he been thinking the same as me? Are we leaving right now?

She double checked Nash and the driver were out of hearing range before answer.

“Dylan, hi.”

“Sandra, where are you?” It wasn’t Purvis.

“Who...? Riley, is that you?” She sensed something was wrong. “Riley, where’s Purvis? Has something happened?”

“He’s okay. Where are you?”

“At home,” Sandra said, confused by the urgency in Riley’s voice.

“Inside?”

“What?”

“Are you in the house?”

“Not yet, we’re just getting out of the car-”

“Where’s Nash?” Riley interrupted. In the background, Sandra was sure she could hear shouting... and was that a police siren?

“He’s just about to go inside,” she said, glancing through the rain-spattered windscreen. Nash was about twenty yards from the front porch, the driver a few yards closer, hunting for the key within the bundle he carried. “What’s wrong?”

“Get away. Don’t follow him.”

“What?”

“There’s been an accident at the club. Don’t go inside!”

“An accident?”

“A bomb! Get the hell away!”

The words stunned her. Her skin puckered into gooseflesh as if the temperature had plummeted below freezing.

“Jesus, no!” she said.

“Grab Wendy and get away from the house!” Riley shouted down the line.

Sandra stared at Nash. Tendrils of fear suddenly coiled around her guts, squeezing tightly.

“Mike’s almost inside,” she said. “I have to stop him.”

“Just get Wendy and-”

But Sandra had lowered the phone. Had opened the car door.

“Stay here, Sweety,” she told Wendy and then jumped from the car with speed that surprised her. “Mike!”

Nash ignored her and kept walking. The driver was at least ten yards in front of him now. Only a few feet from the steps leading up to the door.

“Mike, don’t! Sandra ran a little closer, and then stopped. Somewhere deep within her, she considered climbing back in the car and letting Nash continue on. A bomb? It would solve a lot of problems for her. Get him out of the way. But of course she couldn’t allow herself to do that. Cheating on him and having a child to another man was bad enough. Letting him die was simply outrageous. “Mike, stop! Don’t go inside!”

Nash finally stopped. Turned around and took off his shades. His eyes were red and puffy. His cheeks were still damp with tears that stood out despite the rain. He appeared to be looking through her, as if he had just woken and his brain was still trying to kick into gear. The driver had stopped also. He looked back, confusion spreading across his face.

Then he shrugged and carried on, as if whatever it was between them was none of his business.

In the second before it happened, Sandra thought she saw a glimmering strand of something stretched across the top step that disappeared behind the plant pots either side of the door. The strand glimmered in the wet, like a delicately spun spider’s web.

Like a wire.

“No!” she screamed.

“Riley said there’s been a-”

Riley had the phone gripped to his ear. Purvis was beside him, blood still running from the shrapnel injury to his head and he stood on unsteady feet, looking at Riley with urgency in his eyes, desperately waiting to hear that Sandra and Wendy were both alright, both safe and well as chaos continued around them. The police had arrived, as had the fire department. So had a crowd of on-lookers.

“Mike don’t!”
Riley heard Sandra say. Then a few seconds pause. Footsteps pounding gravel.
“Mike, stop! Don’t go inside. Riley said there’s been an-”

Then Sandra’s voice was replaced with the loud and unmistakable rumble of an explosion.

“Sandra!” Riley shouted into the phone. “Sandra!”

Then there was the even more chilling sound of a dead line.

Oh, Christ!

“Sandra!” Riley yelled. “Sandra!”

Nothing.

He lowered the phone and looked at Purvis.

And when Purvis saw the look in Riley’s eyes he sank to his knees, put his hands up to his bloodstained face and let out the most gut-wrenching scream Riley had ever heard in his life.