Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [63]
"You think they're bodies?" Martin said. "Then you must think that we put them there. So if we did that, then why wouldn't we do the same to you?"
Jordan glanced at the knife in Martin's hand. Didn't seem so sure of himself any more. He sat down.
"You see?" Martin smiled. "It's a ridiculous idea. Isn't it?"
Jordan nodded. Then, as if he couldn't help himself, he said, "I'll tell my dad. When he gets here, he'll phone the police. They'll make you unwrap them."
Martin lowered his head, tapped the flat of the knife against his knee.
Effie put her hand in her pocket, fumbled for the clothesline.
Martin looked up at her. She knew what he was thinking: You or me, babe?
Jesus Christ. How could it have come to this?
Prelude To A Certain Thursday
Almondell Country Park
TOMMY WAS KNEELING in a clearing doing his best not to throw up.
Smith dragged the sword along the ground, splitting earth and parting leaves as he marched in a circle. He stopped right in front of Tommy and said, "Is this close to the spot?"
Tommy licked his lips. His tongue felt as sharp as paper. "I don't know," he said.
"I asked you a question." Smith's voice was loud.
Loud enough to attract attention, maybe. But it was late and they were in the middle of nowhere. Tommy wasn't about to get rescued.
"I wish I could help you." Tommy's bicep throbbed, the object still stuck in it from when he'd made his fucking dumb attempt at rolling to freedom. "Honestly," he said, "I've never been here before."
"But you arranged for someone else to be here, right?"
Tommy said, "I've never seen this place."
"That's not what I asked." Smith made a guttural noise and swung the katana in an arc, narrowly missing Tommy's shoulder.
"Okay," Tommy said, his voice quivering. He'd have to lie to calm Smith down. "I've been here before, yes. It's coming back to me. I remember."
"No, you haven't." Smith disappeared behind him. Bent over. "This is the woods where Martin Milne's father was murdered."
Jesus Christ.
"On your orders."
Tommy was afraid to speak. But he was more afraid not to. "It wasn't me. I had nothing to do with it."
"One more lie and I'll slice your head down the middle."
Tommy closed his eyes. Fuck's sake, he'd just admit it. If he didn't, Smith was going to carry out his threat. The guy was beyond insane. "Okay, it was me," Tommy said. Opened his eyes. "Yes, I arranged it."
Smith leaned closer. "That's better."
Tommy waited, shoulders shaking.
Smith said, "Are you even a tiny bit sorry?"
And Tommy said, "Yes. Very. Completely."
"Nice to hear you say so." Smith stood up, his knees clicking. "But Milne isn't important any longer. We're here because of Grant. You need to pay for that. What're we going to do, Tommy?"
"You can have everything," Tommy said. "All my money. My house. My properties."
"You think Grant has a price tag? Sums you up." He disappeared behind Tommy. "Say your prayers."
The wind moaned in the trees. Tommy could smell the sweet earth he was kneeling on. He wondered how the steel would feel biting into his neck.
He closed his eyes and waited for the blow, muscles tensed in the back of his neck, eyes squeezed so tight his forehead hurt. He wondered how it would sound. Nothing. Still nothing. His neck muscles burned like they'd been stretched and twisted into a series of complicated knots.
Tommy said, "Get on with it." Behind him, he heard Smith's feet scuffing the ground.
"Not now," Smith said. "Get up."
Tommy stood, tasted the air. Filled his lungs with it. He didn't dare speak.
After a while, Smith said, "Back to the car," and Tommy started to move.
Halfway along the path, Tommy said, a tremor still in his voice, "Why did you change your mind?"
Smith said nothing.
"Thanks," Tommy said.
Old Mrs Yardie's
THE BEDROOM WHERE Tommy was imprisoned contained an old-fashioned heavy iron-framed bed, a dark-wood wardrobe, matching chest of drawers and a bucket. Tommy was chained to the bed.
There was no clock in the room, and Smith had taken Tommy's watch. As he'd taken