Thorn In My Side (27 page)

'Smiler, bring
some coffees from the machine, and an orange juice for me.' Mike
handed him some change. As Smiler left, Mike turned to Jill.
'Right, give me a quick rundown.'

'When she
didn’t turn up at Billy’s, he waited half an hour, then phoned the
school. She hasn’t been there all day.' Jill took a deep breath.
'Then Jayne turned up, and said she hadn’t even seen her this
morning. She said, she said that Cassie got the early bus to go
shopping, for… for a birthday present.' She looked up at Mike. 'For
me.' She shook her head. 'Truly, Mike, Cassie wouldn’t do something
like this. She’s a good girl. Something’s happened to her, I know
it has. I just know it. She just wouldn’t stay out at all. She’s
not streetwise or anything like that.'

She started to
sob, and Kristina put her arm around her. 'Shh. She’ll be fine…
Don’t worry, we’ll find her.' Kristina looked up at Mike. 'Won’t
we, Mike?'

Cupping his
chin in his hand, Mike scratched day-old stubble as he stared at
the top of Jill’s head. Then at Kristina, who was urging him with
her eyes to say something.

He cleared his
throat. 'Of course we will. Have youse two had a row lately? Or
something like that? Can you give me anything at all to go on?'

Jill didn’t
even look up. She just shook her head. Smiler came back with three
coffees on a tray. Taking one, Kristina put extra sugar in, stirred
it, then handed it to Jill. 'Here, love, drink this.'

Mike waited
until she’d taken a sip. 'OK. Kristina, you stay here with Jill.
I’ll go to Billy’s house, see what he has to say. But before that,
I’ll give a description to the patrol cars. They might spot her. Of
course, she could have gone present-hunting after school, forgotten
what time it was.' He shrugged.' Who knows, she may even be back at
Billy’s now.'

Jill shook her
head. 'No,' she said quietly.

'OK, come with
me Smiler.'

Stopping at the
desk, Mike and Smiler gave a description of Cassie to the desk
sergeant, who relayed it to the patrol cars. Quickly Mike and
Smiler went to the car. Mike started the engine. Suddenly, Smiler
said, 'It’s Cassie.'

Mike felt the
small hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He pulled out onto
the road before saying, 'What do you mean,
It’s
Cassie
?'

'I saw her.
She’s one of the girls.'

Mike’s face was
grim as he stared at the rush-hour traffic.

'Mike,' Smiler
said a moment later in a hushed voice. 'There isn’t much time… One
more sunset.'

Brother David
fussed around in the study, knowing that The Leader always watched
the local six o’clock news. He had knocked and walked in, on the
pretence that he had to find some important documents that must be
sent off in the morning, or they would be getting a visit from
their sister priory in Durham.

A visit had
already been made three months ago, a visit that ended in tragedy.
Three brothers had died that night, murdered and made to look as if
their car had gone off the road and into a tree.

Ignoring the
irritated glances he kept getting from The Leader, he continued
with his search.

When the
newsreader had finished, and there had been no mention of a body
found in the Police Station yard, he headed for the door. He was
stopped in his tracks when The Leader said, with a touch of
sarcastic irritation, 'Finally found what you’re looking for,
fool?'

'Sorry, sir,'
Brother David said humbly, staring at the carpet, praying as hard
as he could to be allowed to go.

'Get out.' The
Leader waved his long bony hand at him.

'Thank you,
God,' Brother David muttered under his breath, as he practically
ran out of the door.

Where are
you, Michael?
he thought, making his way along to the
factory.

Why haven’t
you come?

Surely he’s
read the note by now.

Please God,
hear my prayers. These children need your help
.

He knew at
least two of them might not make it to the end of the week, they
were so wasted, so frail. He’d thought hard about breaking his vows
and attempting to murder The Leader, but the two henchmen were
never out of his sight. His sacrifice would be pointless. No way
could he succeed against the three of them.

Their only hope
was Michael Yorke.

Reaching the
end of the corridor, he pushed the heavy oak door open. Brother
Andrew was giving the poison out tonight. He worried about Brother
Andrew, wondered how much more he could take. He had Brother Josh
watching every move he made. If Brother Andrew committed suicide,
then two children would lose their lives, and help might be just
around the corner.

Stepping
silently into the great room, he stood at the back and watched
Brother Andrew and the guard make their way around the workers. His
throat hurt with wanting to cry, as the kids eagerly reached out
for the drugs. He blinked hard to stop the tears that were building
up behind his eyes.

No emotion must
be shown, ever. They had learned that lesson in the very beginning.
Emotion brought painful beatings. Some of the brothers and some of
the kids still carried the scars from months ago.

His interest
was piqued a few minutes later when Brother Andrew reached the
newcomers. Brother David was certain he saw the young man and the
girl palm the drugs. The act they put on a few minutes later was
very convincing.

His heart
lightened. Had his prayers been heard?

Had God sent
him some allies?

The Leader
gorged himself on roasted chicken and fine wine. Sprawling on furs,
he toasted himself in front of the unnecessary roaring log fire.
Sweat ran down the faces of his two guards, but neither of them
dared complain. There was another guard who watched while The
Leader and these two slept. He would be wakening soon to take their
place. But before then The Leader had some fun planned.

He spat into
the fire and laughed at the flames. Without turning his head, he
said, 'Bring the one called Shelly.'

Immediately the
Chinese guard turned and left. Entering a door midway down the
panelled hallway, he roughly shook the sleeping Shelly.

Still
half-asleep, she cried out. Pulling her knees to her chin, she
stared in horror at the guard. Her hands were tied together in
front of her with a length of thick rough rope that already had her
wrists chafed in places.

'What?' She
blinked, saw who it was and begged, 'Please. No more.'

He laughed as,
with one arm, he hoisted her off the simple cot bed and pushed her,
crying and sobbing, down the corridor.

7.30 am

Mike opened his
eyes, and knew instantly that there was someone else in the room.
Someone very close. Someone trying hard to be quiet.

Keeping
perfectly still, and controlling his breathing, he listened
intently. He could hear short, shallow breaths and guessed whoever
it was, was very near the bottom of the bed on his right. He
listened for the sound of a gun cocking.

Nothing.

Even the sound
of breathing had stopped or, more likely, someone was trying very
hard to hold their breath.

OK,
Mike
thought. In one fluid motion, he shot up with the quilt in his
hands and threw it over the figure. 'Right, you bastard. Who the
hell are you?'

A muffled sob,
followed a moment later by, 'It’s me. Smiler.'

'Bloody hell.
You scared me to death. What the hell are you doing?' Mike
disentangled Smiler from the quilt, then glanced at the bedroom
clock on his dresser. 'Good God. It’s half-past seven!' he said in
disbelief, as he reached for the light switch.

'I know. I’m
sorry.'

'You’re sorry?
Two bloody hours, that’s all the sleep we’ve had.' He sighed. 'OK,
what’s wrong?' He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at
Smiler.

'I think she’s
dead.' Staring at the floor, Smiler started to sob. 'It was
terrible, Mike… She’s not there any more.' He glanced up at Mike,
his eyes full of tears, 'It’s like there’s a black hole where she
should be.'

Patting
Smiler’s shoulder, Mike said, 'Right, mate, who are we talking
about here?' He rubbed his eyes with his other hand, feeling
totally lousy. A night on the booze never left him feeling this
bad. They had been up most of the night searching for Jill’s
daughter, with no success. Aunt May had spent the night at Jill’s
house. Mike guessed she’d have had less sleep than any of them, and
he knew he must catch her sometime today to warn her about going to
the meeting tonight. There was something mighty suspicious about
the whole thing. He put all those thoughts out of his mind when
Smiler started agitatedly cracking his knuckles.

'OK, Smiler,
chill, eh?'

Suddenly Smiler
stopped, and Mike felt overwhelmed with a feeling of dread at the
tortured look on his face.

'She’s
screaming, Mike,' he said a moment later. 'Really screaming, and…
and I don’t know which one it is, because one of them’s gone.'
Burying his head in his hands, he started to rock back and
forth.

8. 30 am

Quietly closing
the door behind her, Aunt May walked along to her own house. Jill
was sedated, old Dr Monty had said she would sleep until well past
midday. Far from the teenage rebel persona she had adopted over the
last few months, Jayne had proved to be a rock, and was now dozing
in a chair by her mother’s bed.

She was
surprised to see Smiler standing at the gate with Tiny. Patting the
dog’s head, she said, 'Mike up yet?'

Smiler nodded.
'Yeah, he’s cooking breakfast. I’m just taking Tiny out for his
walk. No word yet?'

Sadly Aunt May
shook her head.

Smiler sighed.
'I wish I could see more, Aunt May. If this is the gift you say it
is, why can’t I see exactly where she is? Why can’t I make Mike
believe? It’s worse than useless.' Without waiting for her to
answer, he turned and headed up the street towards the
churchyard.

Watching him
go, Aunt May felt sad for him. She wished she could help. Sometimes
the poor kid looked as if his very soul was being tortured. But she
had no answers. She’d read much on the subject mainly out of
curiosity, but also because of some very strange things she’d
experienced herself. Since Smiler had arrived she’d dug some of her
old books out to re-read, hoping for what, she didn’t know. One
thing she did know was that this world should be treated with an
open mind. Hiding behind closed doors got you nowhere fast.

Smiler carried
on past the church, using the same route down to the beach that
Mike regularly used. Although the causeway was open, the sea was
still swirling around the small island of St Cuthbert, making it
impossible to cross over. Instead, he sat down on the rocky beach
and stared at the islet and St Cuthbert’s cross.

He recalled
everything he’d read about St Cuthbert. How he was tormented by
demons on the islet, and on Inner Farne, where he also spent time
as a hermit. The demons did their best to cast him into the ocean,
but nothing they did discouraged him. When the devils had been
driven from the island through faith and prayer, angels came and
helped build a cell and a chapel.

St Cuthbert had
the power of second sight, because he was a good holy man. He’d
first seen an angel when he was eight years old and tending sheep.
He also had the power to perform miracles. He healed many sick and
diseased people. Once he changed water into wine. Even on his
deathbed, he healed a servant, and his miracles continued well
after his death. In 1942 his relics, resting in Durham Cathedral,
saved the city from the bombs of the Luftwaffe by shrouding the
city in thick fog on the night of their raid.

Smiler hung his
head, his thoughts heavy. St Cuthbert had been a good man, who had
been given the gift because of his goodness.
If this is truly a
gift, as Aunt May says, then why has it been given to me? A
useless, worthless ex-druggie. I’m no good to anyone.

Mike’s
right, it’s all my imagination. A backlash from all the shit I
pumped into myself. I might as well be dead for all the use I am
to anybody.

Slowly he rose
and headed towards the pounding waves, tripping over pebbles and
standing on sharp rocks, noticing neither as he reached the
shore.

10.30 am

A low moan
escaped from Shelly’s lips as she slowly opened her eyes. Her body
felt as if it was being squeezed inch by inch. There was no part
she could favour, the pain was everywhere.

'Shut up and
get up, you have work to do,' a disembodied voice said behind
her.

She lacked the
strength to turn her head, but she knew it was the Chinese guard,
and cringed inside. When The Leader had finished inflicting his own
torture, he had handed her over to the two guards, who had
repeatedly beaten and raped her through the night.

'Here.' He
placed her insulin pen and a bowl of cereal on the small night
table. 'Five minutes.'

She heard the
door slam and the key turn in the lock, and sighed from the soles
of her feet.

Last night The
Leader had told her, as he laughed in her face -- she shivered,
remembering the spit that had landed all over her -- that she had
twenty-four hours to live. She had only been given a stay of
execution because the workforce was depleted. A new shipment of
peasants was due later tonight. She had thought at the time,
what a
strange thing to say,
but realised that it
fitted in with what she knew. Most of people in the world were
peasants to the families.

Easing her feet
off the bed, she groaned as she sat up, and instantly felt dizzy.
Knowing she’d already used up probably half of the five minutes
just getting off the bed, she injected herself, before hastily
swallowing most of the cereal. She was drinking the milk from the
bowl when he came for her.