The Savages (22 page)

‘I wonder what Titus would make of my diet?' he asked, addressing the shopping as he started up the engine. ‘Not that I have plans to invite him over to eat. You're all mine, so rest easy.'

It was only as he pulled out of the car park that he realised he had forgotten to buy any ketchup. Unwilling to turn round, Vernon told himself that he would just have to nip out again later. For some time, he'd been meaning to do his shopping online. Only recently, while staking out the Savages, he'd watched a delivery van unloading a week's groceries for the family. It looked like such a quick and easy way of getting a supermarket shop directly into the house, he reflected, and promptly hit the brakes hard as a plan of action sprang to mind. Several horns sounded behind him, but Vernon paid them no attention whatsoever.

‘Oh, man, you're good,' he told himself. With the horns still blaring, Vernon found first gear and moved off again. ‘It's high time I saw what's on the menu.'

Jack Greenway had thought long and hard about Amanda's proposition. Murdering a man was crackers, of course. Still, he had another motive for meeting her in a coffee shop to go through the plan in more detail.

‘That's an interesting bracelet,' he said, looking for a way to make her feel special.

Amanda didn't even glance at her wrist.

‘What you're about to do takes courage,' she said quietly, while stirring a vegan gingerbread latte. ‘Naturally, people will be horrified that you've taken someone's life because of what they eat, but if it means they rise up against us then what we'll have on our hands is a
war
!'

‘Right,' said Jack, who was content to go along with Amanda just to see where it would take him. ‘Is that a good thing?'

‘We vegans are morally superior,' she told him. ‘In a battle for hearts and minds, victory is ours for the taking, and it'll all be thanks to the provocative actions of one brave soul …' Amanda stopped there and held his gaze. ‘You're about to change lives, Jack. Your place in history awaits you.'

Jack stirred his latte as he listened. Amanda had recommended the gingerbread drink, but frankly it didn't look all that appealing. Still, that wasn't why he was here. ‘What about afterwards?' he asked hopefully. ‘Do I hide out in your hall of residence?'

Amanda smiled seductively. At least that's how Jack tried to read it. In truth he wasn't really sure.

‘Once the deed is done we'll go online anonymously, claim responsibility, and then sit back and watch the flames rise.'

‘I see.' Jack hoped the sitting back bit would take place in her bedroom. ‘Flames.'

‘Anyway,' she continued, ‘you really don't look like the sort of person with previous criminal convictions. Why should the police suspect you?'

Jack collected his cup in both hands, mindful of his outstanding library fine. Taking a sip, he reminded himself that he had no intention whatsoever of slaying Sasha's father. He didn't really think that Amanda was being serious. It was, without a doubt, the talk of a fantasist, Privately, he hoped she was the sort of person who got turned on by indulging in this kind of role play, and that was fine by him. The way Jack saw things, it would be perfectly possible for him to leave the Savage house claiming he had carried out the kill. Even if Amanda was being serious, he thought to himself, that would give him time to reap the rewards before she learned that somehow Titus had survived the attack. The girl was nuts, but just so sexy that it had to be worth playing along with her. The latte sloshed down his oesophagus, leaving an aftertaste of warm cardboard in his mouth.

‘Count me in,' said Jack. ‘I'd be honoured to go into battle with you.'

‘Good boy,' said Amanda, and found his ankle under the table with her foot. ‘When can you do it?'

‘Give me a little time,' said Jack, thinking she would at least need to see him entering the Savage house. That meant he'd have to stop freezing out Sasha and pretend that all was still good between them. ‘As soon as I'm ready,' he added, ‘you'll be first to know.'

Angelica Savage began working on the menu with Katya in mind. This feast was in her honour, after all, and so it was important that the choices on offer appealed to her. Sasha found her mother at the kitchen table, with a notepad and pen in hand. She peered over her shoulder, reading the list with interest.

‘Liver pâté biscuit bites,' she said hungrily. ‘Mum, don't tempt me!'

Angelica looked round.

‘It would put an end to a lot of problems,' she said. ‘At some point before this feast, we're going to have to tell your father why you won't be joining us.'

Sasha sighed and took the seat beside her. She placed her mobile phone on the table and set it to one side. Katya was in her high chair opposite. She was clutching a wooden spoon, which she dropped to reach across the table for her older sister's hands.

‘I've tried to find the right moment,' said Sasha, collecting the spoon from the floor, ‘but every time he's been grumpy about work.'

‘No matter what you say he'll go crazy,' replied Angelica. ‘What's important is that he doesn't lose sight of the fact that you're his daughter first and foremost, no matter what you choose to eat.'

Sasha watched her mother writing on the pad.

‘Honey-roast sticky ribs?' Sasha grinned at Katya. ‘You're going to love this, but it isn't making it any easier for me.'

‘How about that thing I do with the loin?' Angelica set down her pen. ‘The carpaccio?'

‘With plenty of basil and garlic?' Sasha closed her eyes, as if the suggestion triggered memories of the taste. ‘Mum, you know how much I loved that when I was little!'

Angelica returned her attention to the list.

‘Maybe I should add it anyway,' she said to herself, with just a glance back at her daughter. ‘Now, what would everyone else enjoy?'

For half an hour, both mother and daughter explored all the different dishes they could create from one human body. It was a time marked by a great deal of discussion and laughter, which came easily with little Katya sharing the table. Slowly, the list began to grow, as did a sense of warmth between the pair. It felt good to Sasha, just to be involved at this level, and she could see that Angelica felt the same way. When Sasha's mobile rang, just as they were planning dessert, her first thought was to ignore it. Then she glanced at the caller name, and snatched it into her hands.

‘I need to go out,' she said after a brief and hushed exchange. A hint of disappointment came into her mother's expression. ‘I'll be back shortly,' Sasha added, before rushing from the room. ‘I promise!'

One week. That's how long Titus Savage had asked his son to walk to and from school unaccompanied. Ivan didn't usually mind travelling alone. With no friends, he was used to sitting on the bus or trudging along the pavement with his thoughts, but this was different. Some creep was out there stalking him.

‘It's not you he's interested in,' his father kept assuring him. ‘I'm his man.'

‘But what if you're wrong?'

‘I'll be watching every step you make,' said Titus. ‘All you have to do is trust me.'

Ivan had every faith in his father. He'd never let him down before. Even so, the boy took steps to protect himself. He didn't like feeling threatened and though Titus swore he was close by, just waiting for their man, the boy still felt vulnerable. Such lack of control left him tense and edgy. Not once did he see the van in question, but that just made him more anxious. Back home, Ivan would fire up his war videogame and attempt to regain some sense of control by going on a virtual rampage. Even that didn't stop the bad dreams. Slowly, his stalker invaded every aspect of his existence. On the final day of that week, when a figure stepped out from behind some bushes in the park, Ivan immediately moved to defend himself.

‘It's me,' said Titus, and promptly threw himself to one side as a dart-like electrode whizzed past his shoulder. ‘Hold your fire, Ivan! Put the Taser away!'

The boy had pulled the weapon without warning. It belonged to his father, who had only ever used it once to disable a victim before bundling him into the boot of the car. The Taser was effective at delivering a soul-sapping electric shock. Titus had picked it up from a security outfit he had stripped down and sold off. He had kept it hoping to keep up with the times, only to find he preferred a more traditional means of incapacitation.

‘You scared me,' said Ivan, who began to reel in the dart by the wire that attached it to the weapon.

Titus looked one way and then other. They were in view of the playground. Fortunately, none of the parents and their children had noticed.

‘What were you thinking?' he hissed, and retrieved the dart for him. ‘The hatch in the shed floor is sealed for good reason. We only break it before a feast.'

‘I'm sorry.' Ivan had crouched to finish winding in the wire. He looked up at his father and blinked back tears. ‘I don't want to be bait any more.'

Titus considered his son for a moment. Then he offered the boy his hand to help him back onto his feet.

‘We'll find him,' he promised. ‘Now put the Taser back in your bag and let's go home.'

‘Good idea,' said Ivan, and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his school jacket. ‘Will there be anything to eat when we get back?'

Titus smiled.

‘I'm hungry, too,' he said. ‘It's always the way before a feast. Your grandfather believes our body metabolism has learned to accelerate beforehand. He's convinced we burn off excessive fat storage to make room for the flesh that follows.'

‘I feel it.' Ivan placed a hand upon his belly. ‘It's an ache that won't go away. A cramp sometimes, too.'

Together, Titus and Ivan continued along the path. Titus placed his arm between his son's shoulder blades, both to steer him in the right direction and offer him a sense of protection. They chatted as they walked. Titus talked about spending more time together. He was tiring of the City, so he said. There was nothing wrong with hard work, but if it ceased to be rewarding then it was time to seek out fresh challenges. As they made their way to the park gates, and then up the street towards home, Titus had convinced himself that it was something to discuss with Angelica. He was also well aware that the next feast couldn't come soon enough. As ever, it would revive his spirits and help him to forge a way forward that put the family first. Seeing the grocery delivery van outside the house, however, left Titus with mixed feelings. His dear wife always worked so hard to put on a memorable spread, but by now he'd hoped to have taken care of the central ingredient.

‘The perishables have arrived,' observed Titus, just a moment before a figure emerged from the driveway and climbed in through the side of the van.

At once, and without further word, both father and son stopped in their tracks.

Vernon English had waited several days for this moment. Loitering in the park, with the Savage house in view, he had tried his best not to invite suspicion. He pretended to read the paper on several benches, or simply pressed his mobile to his ear and had a long conversation with the imaginary person on the other end. Vernon was feeding the ducks when the grocery van trundled into view. Emptying his pockets of the remaining bread, he placed one hand on his cap to stop it from blowing free and broke into a brisk trot. It was only as he approached the vehicle that he slowed right down. He could hear the driver in the back, sorting out the delivery. Looking around to be sure he wasn't being watched, Vernon side-stepped into a neighbouring drive and stood quietly beside a bin. He only wanted a moment inside the van. He knew exactly where to look to find the delivery checklist, having observed several drop-offs outside his own block that week.

‘Come on, fella,' he muttered. ‘Do your thing.'

Vernon levered down a branch in the bush that hid him from view. He could see the driver at work, pulling the family's order from cold-store compartments. Finally, the guy stepped down onto the pavement and stacked three baskets onto a porter's trolley. Vernon braced himself to make his move. As soon as the man set off for the house, he headed straight for the van and jumped in without using the step.

The clipboard was hanging from a hook by a loop of string. The Savage address was printed in the upper corner of the top sheet. Vernon snatched it free and scanned the list underneath.

‘OK, what have we got?' It was just a hunch after years in the profession, but something told the private investigator that the key to unlocking the secret about the Savages had to be right here. His eyes dropped from one food item on the list to the next, and again on the other side of the sheet. Finally, he looked up and searched his mind. There was enough stuff here for a banquet, some kind of roast that would befit a royal, but one thing was missing. It was a glaring omission. Without it, this blow-out would be incomplete. Vernon looked up with just one question on his mind. ‘Where's the meat?'

The response, as such, came in the shape of a dart to Vernon's left buttock. He barely felt it puncture his trousers and skin, largely on account of the fifty-thousand volt shock it delivered to every fibre of his body. Vernon didn't make a sound, having momentarily swallowed his tongue. He simply snapped upright in pain, his eyes bulging, and then sheer surprise when the convulsions stopped and a hand appeared from behind him clasping a silk neckerchief. It was doused in a sweet-smelling chemical, he realised, on finding it clamped to his mouth. A second later, overcome by chloroform fumes, the private investigator slumped back into the arms of his assailant.

Sasha Savage paused outside the café. She was nervous about the conversation that was about to take place. It wasn't something she had expected, but as soon as she heard his voice on the phone it felt like the right thing to do. Taking a breath, she pushed open the door. There he was, rising from the table on seeing her.