The Fire (24 page)

Lauren North's Story:

Clarke had shot me in the left knee. At first I didn't feel anything, I'd simply fallen over where I'd been standing, dropped the pitchfork and found myself dangling precariously over the edge of the bales.

As the pain receptors in my brain caught up with the damage the 9mm round had done to the internal workings of my knee joint, I heard myself screaming in agony. Nothing could have prepared me for the level of pain I was suffering. Given the choice, at that particular moment, I would have begged anyone to shoot me dead there and then; anything to stop the excruciating agony.

Seamus enjoyed pulling me from the top of the bales by my hair and letting me drop on my back to the concrete floor. The jolt of the fall sent further rivers of misery through my body.

He looked into my eyes and I saw his father staring lecherously at me in his Bentley, stuffing notes down my bra. He drew back his massive fist and punched me full in the face. Instantly the pain was gone and darkness fell on my world.

When I came round, I was bouncing about in the back of a big blue Toyota. Clarke and O'Donnell had done nothing with my knee and I was bleeding like a stuck pig all over the nice deep pile carpets.

Each bump in the road was terrible. I tried to lean to one side and raise my leg so it sat across the back seat, but the moment I attempted to move, O'Donnell, sitting in the front seat, swiped at me with his fist or the back of his hand, clipping me around the top of my head and knocking me sick.

Declan pulled out his mobile and barked at someone to open the gates of the farm.

Before I knew it, I was back in exactly the same spot where I'd topped Ewan Findley and all my efforts had come to nothing.

I could hear people pulling Kristy's corpse from the boot, but to be honest, I was in so much pain and losing so much blood, I was past caring.

Then I heard Dougie McGinnis screaming at the top of his voice. Seconds later he opened the door of the car and dragged me out.

My left leg doubled up under me as he pulled me sideways by my T-shirt, ripping most of it from my back.

I screamed in agony.

Looking down at my leg as Dougie dragged me across the icy cobbles, grunting and cursing, I saw that the whole bottom half of my jeans were red with blood. At this rate, no matter what this band of brothers had in mind for me, if they didn't stop the flow of blood, I would be dead within the hour.

Rick Fuller's Story:

We watched helplessly as Dougie yanked Lauren to the large double doors of the barn. She screamed in pain and left a trail of blood in the snow as she went.

My stomach churned. But at least she was alive and we knew her location; that said, looking at the amount of claret left in her wake, we had to get to her, and quick.

The twins ominously followed Dougie into the barn. Clarke stayed put and appeared to be giving more orders to the security guards, pointing first toward Kristy's body, then a small outhouse and finally toward our position.

Were they going to come to us?

Within seconds, I had my answer. We watched as two guards picked up Kristy's corpse and carried her to one of the VW vans. Leaving the doors open, they ambled to the outhouse that Clarke had pointed to. One then pulled open a heavy door before they both disappeared inside. Moments later they emerged struggling with a massive weight. It was Ewan Findley, and he didn't look too well. He was completely blue in the face and his trousers were around his ankles. He was also very dead.

Des let out a low whistle.

"Our Lauren's been a busy girl, eh?"

I nodded as two other guards helped their mates launch Findley's massive bulk into the V Dub. The van shook with the huge extra weight. The boys finished by throwing a couple of shovels and a pick unceremoniously on top of the corpses and slammed the doors shut.

All four jumped into the vehicle and they headed for the gate.

Des was on it.

"You reckon they're heading our way, pal?"

"Could be." I turned "...J.J. Get your M24 up and running, use the gully for cover and then find some high ground so you have a good view of the compound and our position."

The Turk nodded and made the sniper rifle ready. He fixed the Leupold Ultra M3A fixed-power scope and Harris 9-13" 1A2-L bipod to the weapon. Lastly he slotted in the extended mag and pushed two spares in his coveralls.

J.J. fixed his MP7 to his back with its sling and checked his pistol. Finally he felt in his back pocket for his knife. He opened it lovingly, checked the blade, kissed it and slid it back in its place.

"We go see Lauren now, eh?" he said, his cold eyes as black as the devil's own.

"Yes," I said. "We're going to get her back."

"Good," he said. "We must kill all these fuckers...every last man...yes?"

"Oh aye," said Des, peering through the binos, "every last one of the wee bastards."

The Turk smiled at that, nodded and turned before setting off along the gully, head dipped. J.J. was a killing machine. I was glad he was on our side.

Before he'd travelled two hundred meters, the guards were out of the gate and the van was bouncing across what looked like open ground, heading directly for our position.

The real fun was about to begin.

Lauren North's Story:

The barn was huge. It had a stone-flagged floor that must have been hundreds of years old. Massive oak pillars rose up from it to support the ancient beams above.

Dougie dragged me over to one of them, just about in the centre of the building.

As I got closer, I realised why he had chosen it.

Some seven or eight feet from the ground, a galvanised steel ring had been bolted into the massive timber. Dangling ominously through the ring was a chain and at either end of that, were steel cuffs.

Even more terrifying was the fact that he had gone to the trouble of covering the stone floor around the pillar with plastic sheeting. He had prepared the place of my death, secure in the knowledge that I would never escape.

Declan and Seamus were deep in conversation somewhere behind.

As McGinnis dragged me along the last few feet to the pillar, he grabbed both my wrists and using all his bull strength, lifted me off my feet. I felt like my arms were being torn from their sockets, my knee was agony. Seamus stepped forward and clicked the two steel handcuffs in place. When Dougie released me, my feet dangled a good foot from the floor.

The metal cuffs instantly cut into my already bruised wrists. Everything hurt and the pain in the various sites of my body was annihilating my reasoning capabilities. I needed to think, I needed to stay focused.

Blood dripped from my jeans and made a plop...plop sound on the plastic sheets below me.

Seamus stepped in front of me. He was the embodiment of his father, both in looks and disposition. He sneered.

"Finally," he said. "I have dreamed of seeing you dangle from this post for months...and now...well here you are."

I was feeling sick and dizzy. The blood loss was starting to take effect. I wanted to fight, I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn't, I was too weak. I could feel my eyes closing, I was drifting into unconsciousness.

Dougie slapped me awake. He hit me so hard my ears rang and I saw stars.

His face was inches from mine, eyes wild with anger and hate. He sprayed me with spittle as he shouted. "Wake up, bitch! We ain't done with you yet!"

I turned my head away from him and did my best to stop tears flowing. Suddenly, all thought of keeping my focus drained away. They were going to kill me and there was nothing I could do.

Dougie pulled a knife from his pocket and shoved it under my chin.

I prepared myself for the end.

Rather than gut me, he used the blade to cut the remains of my t-shirt from my back. Dread ran through me as he then sliced off my bra, my bloody jeans and my panties. My clothes dropped onto the plastic sheeting with wet slaps. I could hear my breath, short and shallow, as the fear of what was about to happen gripped me.

The vile excuse for a man stood back to admire his work and inspect my nakedness.

"Now would you look at that there, eh, Seamus? That is as fine an example of womanhood yer ever likely to see dangling in yer barn, eh?"

Dougie laughed at his own quip.

Seamus gaped at me, his mouth slightly open; drinking in the view. He walked to the edge of the sheeting beneath me to get a closer look.

He jutted his square chin toward me.

"Turn her round, Dougie. I want to see her arse."

McGinnis guffawed. "Ah, you're an O'Donnell, that's for sure, Seamus. Yer dad was an arse man himself."

Dougie stepped onto the plastic and grabbed my hips to turn me around. I felt like a cross between a laboratory specimen and a joint of meat on a spit. I considered using the last of my strength to kick out at the animal, but for what? I was beaten and I knew it.

As a young nurse, I had worked in a trauma unit where many of the patients had been victims of rape. I remembered a woman detective had attended the ward one day to give advice to us girls, should we ever find ourselves in such a position. Fight, shout, and scream, she said. She even suggested soiling yourself to stop the attacker from penetrating you.

I wasn't going to scream, it wouldn't do me any good, and I wasn't about to defecate either. No, I was going to do what many of those poor women did when faced with a rapist.

Absolutely nothing.

Dougie positioned me with my face against the wooden pillar. I hadn't considered what effect the movement would have on me, but not being able to see O'Donnell and McGinnis scared me even more.

I started to shake involuntarily.

"Nice," said Seamus. I could hear the leer in his voice. "Very nice indeed....okay, Dougie, turn her back."

Moments later I could see my foe again.

I focused on Declan, who had watched the proceedings in indifferent silence. He stood with his feet planted, yet he spun his body left and right, the way a six-year-old girl would do. He even managed the crooked little finger to the lips to complete the picture. The twins could not have been more dissimilar. Declan was an aberrant man; delicate of movement, pitifully thin, and without doubt, completely mad.

Seamus placed a brawny arm around his sibling.

"Now then, Dec, you won't be wanting to see our bit of fun now, will you? And you definitely won't be getting your cock out and taking your turn, so why don't you go and have a nice cuddle up to yer man eh?"

Declan gave a sour looking smile.

"You're both disgusting animals," he spat, in the campest of voices.

Seamus and Dougie howled.

Declan did not join in.

He walked up to me and looked into my eyes. They never left my face as he addressed his peers.

"When you vermin have played your little boy game," he said flatly. "Call me and I'll finish the job for you."

The sour smile returned. His fish eyes burned into mine. He cocked his head quizzically; clearly insane.

"I'm going to cut your throat, darling," he said.

Des Cogan's Story:

J.J. was out of sight in minutes. The van carrying the two dead Irish was still on a collision course for our position. Rick checked over his MP7 and fitted the noise suppressor to the muzzle. The weapon was quiet without it, but we couldn't risk alerting the remaining guards at the house when we took on the lads in the van. I followed suit, then taped two mags together, slotted one home and released the action. After setting the fire pattern to burst of three, all that was left to do was to check the safety and clip the weapon to my chest using the sling.

It was bitterly cold, and just completing regular drills was difficult. I did my best to keep my body moving, bending my knees and arching my back. I couldn't feel my toes or my fingers.

Rick pointed over the ridge of the gully. Some five hundred yards east of us was a small copse and the van had turned toward it.

He cleared his nose into the snow. We were both struggling like fuck with snot. When you get really cold for prolonged periods, your nose runs like a tap and there isn't a thing you can do about it.

"Come on, Des, let's move," he said, pulling on his Bergen. "This is a burial party and, a pound to a pinch of shit, that copse is the graveyard. We need to be there before them... or we're fucked."

I checked my Sig and made sure the clip was secure on my holster. Five hundred yards isn't far, but when you're wading through two feet of snow carrying upwards of four stone of kit on your back, well, let's say our body temperatures were about to rise somewhat and if something could fall off, it would.

Rick went to take point and pushed by me. I don't quite know why, maybe because I was so worried about Lauren, or maybe it was just time, but I grabbed him by the arm. Instinctively he flinched.

"Whoa there, boy, " I said, holding on tight and stopping him in his tracks.

He shot me a look. I'd seen it a million times. He was focused on one thing, everything else in the world obliterated from his mind. Do the job, slot the fuckers, go home, and most of all...don't fuckin' touch me.

I also knew that if a doctor was to take his pulse at this very moment, he would suggest that his patient was sitting at home on his sofa listening to chilled fuckin' Ibiza. Rick Fuller was as dangerous a man as you'd ever care to meet...even to his friends.

I gave him a moment and he came back to Earth.

"I've got something to tell you, pal," I said.

He lifted his sleeve and checked his Hublot.

I covered the face with my gloved hand.

"We've got time for this, trust me."

Rick knew me well enough. We were going to slot the four boys in the van, nothing surer. A few seconds wouldn't change that.

That said, there was no time for flowery stories.

"I killed Anne," I said.

He turned down the corners of his mouth.

"That's why she called you?"

I nodded. The wind whipped up the fallen snow and blew it into my face and I had to raise my voice slightly. "Probably...yeah...she...she was fucked, Rick...she couldn't take anymore...you know? The cancer...it...it well, you know."

Rick pulled on his balaclava, more out of something to do than necessity. I could see the subject matter made him uncomfortable.

"What about Donald?" he asked.

"She posed the question to him before I got there, but he couldn't...wouldn't...against his fuckin' religion apparently."

"So he left it to you?"

I nodded.

Rick leaned back against the wall of the gully. He closed his eyes briefly and thought for a moment.

"It's a fair one," he said. "I'd have done the same."

"You would?"

He opened his eyes and looked me straight in the face. "I would."

I held his stare. The wind howled and I braced myself against it.

"Thanks," I said before pushing past my oldest friend and taking the point myself.

"Let's get Lauren back, eh?"

Lauren North's Story: 

Declan had minced out of the barn, leaving me with Seamus and Dougie.

The two seemed suddenly unsure what to do. Even these two disgusting specimens appeared unused to your everyday gang rape scenario. So, if in doubt, have a beer first eh? Seamus got on his mobile and, minutes later, a goon appeared with a six pack of Guinness.

I was feeling dog shit. My wrists and arms were competing pretty well with my knee in the pain stakes. Dougie had hit me so hard that my left eye was closed. I was black and blue and I'd been sick all down my boobs. If this was a male fantasy, I was sure I was not the sight they'd dreamt up.

Both men popped their cans and circled me like a lions with an injured deer, making lewd comments and bragging about what each would do with me.

Personally, I was past caring who was going to do what to who and in what order. As they pointed and jeered, a dark blanket was draped over me. The end was close. My internal organs were starting to shut down one by one as each fought for its share of my ever dwindling supply of precious blood.

I was dying and I knew it.

Strangely, I wasn't scared. Once again I was falling into unconsciousness. I said a little prayer, and it all went dark.

I was jolted back to reality by a needle. A big black guy was administering what I presumed to be adrenalin into my groin. My heart raced, my throat was dry. I looked down to see a pressure dressing had been expertly applied to my knee.

The guy stepped back, dropped the syringe into a yellow sharps box, pulled off his surgical gloves, and turned to Seamus and Dougie. He was calm and confident and not at all concerned by treating a half dead naked woman chained to a post in a freezing barn. He was obviously the NIRA's pet doctor.

"The bullet is lodged under her patella." he began. "It will need to be removed sooner rather than later. Right now, she needs a drip to get some fluids into her or she'll just fade again."

Whilst I'd been out for the count, the men of the year 2007 had acquired a couple of plastic chairs and a small table. I noticed all six cans of Guinness had been consumed and a bottle of whisky was all but finished.

In the centre of the table was a substantial bag of white powder, a small mirror, a razorblade and a rolled up banknote. It was a full on party and I was the entertainment.

Dougie pointed at me. He was flying. "We're not needing a fuckin' prognosis, son! What we need to know is..." he took a gulp of scotch. "... Will she last an hour or so...so we can fuck her like?"

Even the doc winced at that little gem.

"Erm...well, maybe, hard to say, she's lost a lot of blood."

Dougie leaned over to Seamus and in a drunken stage whisper said, "That's the trouble with these niggers...they know fuck all, eh?"

Seamus laughed and looked to the doc.

"Hey, Sid! Don't pay no heed to Dougie here when he's pissed. He don't mean nothin'. You done a good job there now."

Sid managed a fake smile as he put his instruments back into his bag. He was a well-spoken guy, handsome, good suit. He somehow didn't belong with Seamus and his crew.

"It's okay, Mr O'Donnell," he said. "But she needs proper attention, and soon."

Dougie stood drunkenly, knocking over his chair, sending it clattering across the flagstones.

"Oh, she's gonna get some fuckin' attention alright, eh, Seamus? Some proper fuckin' attention." He grabbed his crotch and leered at me. "She's gonna get some Irish cock in her, ain't ya, darlin'?"

He staggered over to me; close enough that I could smell the whisky on him and see the residue of the cocaine in his nostrils.

"I'm gonna fuck you good...both of us gonna do you." He turned, "Eh, Seamus...both of us eh?"

Dougie's eyes widened. He'd had an idea.

"Tell you what, Seamus. Why don't we invite Sidney here to the party?"

He staggered over to the medic and put a massive arm around his shoulders. Sid looked scared.

"You niggers all got massive dicks, eh? Do you no harm to have a bit of white woman. I reckon you'd like that, eh? Nice piece of white ass?"

The coke was working overtime. Dougie positively bellowed.

"What're you sayin', Seamus? Come on! Sid here can put on a bit of a show for us, eh? Get us in the mood."

Seamus thought it was an excellent plan.

Sid looked terrified. "I...I...don't think..."

O'Donnell was having none of it. "Aw come on now, Sid, Don't be a party pooper." He waved his arm in my direction. "I mean, just look at the fine specimen of a woman we have here for our amusement."

From somewhere, Sid found some courage. He stood straight and shrugged off Dougie's arm.

Swallowing hard, he discovered his doctor's voice. "I'm not...not a rapist... Mr. O'Donnell."

Dougie flew into an immediate rage.

"Who you callin' a fuckin' rapist there, nigger boy?"

Sid stepped away from the big Irishman.

"I didn't call you a ra..."

Dougie was fumbling with the back of his coat. "Aye, yer fuckin' did, yer black bastard yer."

He turned to his equally drunken and outraged partner in crime. "Didn't he now, Seamus? Called us nonces that he did."

Seamus held up a finger like some kind of inebriated umpire, eyes like piss holes in the snow. "He did so."

Dougie pulled his gun from his belt and pointed it at Sid's head.

"Now, listen to me, you fuckin' black cunt. You're gonna shag that bitch there, and we are gonna watch you!"

My wrists were killing me. Blood seeped down my forearms and dripped from each elbow. With each passing minute, the metal cuffs dug deeper and deeper into my skin. The cuff on my left wrist was through to the bone. My heart pounded and my pulse thundered in my throat. I felt dreadfully tired and knew, despite Sidney's best efforts, it was definitely, my final moments.

My eyes began to close. Rick's voice whispered in my ear.

When you're really in the shit, use anything you have, or anyone you even remotely think may help you.

Looking at Sid, cowering at Dougie's feet, I saw an ordinary guy who'd probably been a very decent junior doctor, working seventy hours a week, with no sleep and shit money; maybe a wife and kids at home...then ....Kristy McDonald turns up, pushes her assets in young affable Sidney's face and offers him four grand a week to sit on his arse unless a problem occurs.

Happy days, and all very well...until one does.

I figured that when the poor guy took this gig, he hadn't factored in that his bosses were crazy.

Was the good doctor going to save me?

It was a dangerous ploy, but I was at the point where I didn't think I could take any more pain.

That night in the car with O'Donnell, the night I blew the top of his head off, I was as scared as I'd ever been in my life, but I got through.

And I could get through this.

I took a breath and used all my strength to shout over the drama. "We can't put on a show with me tied to a fuckin' post."

There was instant silence.

Even Sidney looked shocked.

McGinnis holstered his pistol and turned to me, eyes like saucers.

"Well, well, well...so finally the real fuckin' slut comes out, eh?"

My throat was dry, even speaking was an issue. The two space cadets who were looking to rape and murder me hadn't noticed I was close to death.

"I've never had a black ma...." I started, but an uncontrollable coughing fit clipped the end of my sentence. I thought I would be sick.

Seamus and Dougie didn't see my demise, they were only interested in one thing, and that thing involved getting me off the pillar and Doctor Sidney interested.

Seamus made a brave attempt at standing up. "I'll get her down..." he slurred, then fumbled in his pockets "Who's got the fuckin' key fer the cuffs, man?"

He came up empty-handed, staggered backward and fell back on his seat burping loudly.

Dougie was a little more capable. He found a small key in his coat pocket and tossed it onto the table.

"There you go, Seamus. I'll lift her up, you undo the cuffs."

Both men approached me.

Seamus dragged his chair along with him and placed it on the plastic sheeting. He groped me as he clambered upward and attempted to get the tiny key into my cuffs.

Dougie grabbed me around my thighs and lifted me up.

He wore a big smile as he squeezed my arse in the process. .

"Go on there, Seamus, undo her."

I felt the cuffs release. Dougie let me drop and I fell to the floor unable to stand.

Both men looked down at me as I rolled about the floor in agony, gasping for breath.

Despite my pain, I managed to get myself into a sitting position with my back against the pillar.