Grant Mckenzie Read online

  ‘Mostly,’ Zack said. ‘I knew I wanted to go into medicine, specifically surgery, but I was also fascinated by the new era of computers. In university, I studied both for a while. Specializing in cosmetic work came later. You?’

  ‘It never crossed my mind that I could be anything other than an actor,’ Sam said. ‘I was so determined, so focused on that goal, I just assumed everyone felt the same way. The idea of not knowing where you belonged never entered my head.’

  ‘You’re talking about the kidnapper,’ Zack said.

  ‘Yeah, and about people like Davey. It’s like graduation takes them by surprise and suddenly their entire support network is gone. One day you’re part of this cool club, and the next you’re on your own. As soon as graduation was over, I was off to Hollywood to become a star. But what did Davey do? He’s still here, smokin’ dope, drinkin’ beer and causing trouble.’

  ‘And now we’re back here, too.’

  Sam raised one eyebrow as if to protest, but then let it drop and began descending the stairs.

  At the bottom, he turned and walked under the bridge. The makeshift village looked deserted and the burning barrels were unlit. A few cold eyes peered from the darkness of the bridge’s ironworks, fearful faces hidden beneath masks of soot.

  Sam called out, ‘I’m looking for Davey O. It’s important.’

  A pile of rags beside a large wooden spool rustled and shifted, then rose up to form a familiar shape. The hobbit strode forward, his western slicker dragging behind him. His beard was matted with egg yolk and tiny fragments of bright blue shell.

  He strode to within a foot of Sam and placed his hands on his hips. ‘Davey don’t want to see you. You hurt him last time.’

  ‘That was unavoidable,’ Sam said. ‘But I have something for him. Something I promised I would bring.’

  The hobbit’s eyes narrowed. ‘He said you burned his book.’

  ‘I want to make it up to him.’

  The hobbit cleared his throat of phlegm and spat a thick glob on the ground. ‘Why should he trust you again?’

  ‘I made a promise,’ said Sam.

  The hobbit snorted. ‘Promises are like shit round here. Plentiful supply, but it can’t buy bread.’

  ‘I have his book,’ Sam explained. ‘A new one. I want to give it to him.’

  ‘I can deliver it.’

  Sam shook off the suggestion. ‘It needs to be me.’

  The hobbit showed his teeth. They were the colour of wet coffee grounds. ‘Cause you need somethin’ else, right? Never nothin’ for free round here. Not even on a promise.’

  Sam bristled, but held his tongue, knowing the man was right. ‘Can you get the message to him? I’ll be back later tonight.’

  The hobbit didn’t nod or shake. ‘If he wants to see you, he’ll be here.’

  68

  At the motel, Sam held up his arm to stop Zack in his tracks. The door to their room was ajar.

  Sam motioned for Zack to stand back before he crouched and nudged the door with his foot. The door creaked open, but nothing moved within.

  Sam peered around the doorway. The room looked undisturbed.

  He stood and entered. There was nowhere for anyone to hide, so he walked quickly to the bathroom and kicked open the door. Empty.

  When he turned to give the all-clear, Zack was standing in front of the TV.

  Scrawled across the screen in white grease pencil was a simple message:

  Mall

  Midnight

  The cellphone rang as Sam leaned over the sink, scraping the stubble off his face with a disposable razor.

  He answered on the second ring.

  ‘Have you thought about the money, Sam?’

  The electronic voice sent a chill across Sam’s skin, raising goose bumps despite the steamy warmth rising from the sink.

  ‘Yes.’ Sam thought of the message left on the TV. ‘I’ll be getting the last of it tonight.’

  ‘Very good. I had faith in you even when you doubted yourself.’

  ‘Can I talk to my family?’

  ‘They are scared, Sam. They don’t like the dark.’

  Sam fought back his anger. ‘I need to know they’re alive?’

  ‘Soon, I would think. Very soon. You are almost finished.’

  ‘Please don’t hurt them,’ he pleaded.

  ‘That’s not up to me,’ said the voice. ‘Their fate is entirely in your hands.’

  69

  The watcher looked down upon the frightened woman huddled in the darkness with nothing but a moth-eaten blanket to keep her warm.

  The army surplus cot had become fragile with mould, the bottom third of its canvas length already split with rot and preventing her from stretching out. At least she should be grateful that its steel frame kept her off the damp ground, which would leech every bit of heat from her shivering body.

  He surmised that if he cared anything about her survival, his choice of prisons didn’t reflect it. But he also knew the harshest environments produced the fastest results.

  The woman didn’t look so beautiful now. Some of the bruises on her face and arms had turned ugly colours and her hair was an unkempt mass. If she looked in a mirror, she would probably scream. But there were no mirrors here, just him. He would become her world; her saviour; her prince on a charging white stallion.

  Fortunately, he still had his imagination and the secret photos that he stuck to the wall as a reminder that he never stopped watching. Once she was completely his, he could make her exactly the way he desired.

  Her body and face were simple to repair; a little food to bring back the curves, a long bath to make her skin glisten, and, of course, time to heal. Her mind, on the other hand, was more delicate to control, but it was almost there.

  He closed the cell door behind him and walked closer. Her eyes lifted to his and he greeted them warmly. Within those red-rimmed orbs he still saw the pulsating fear of the man who had ripped her from her comfortable world. But it was only a matter of time before that terror was replaced with utter devotion.

  She was already willing to do most of the things he asked of her. All he needed was to make her want to do them.

  The watcher stroked the woman’s hair and cradled her head against his thigh. She started to cry again, but he made her stop with gentle shushing sounds and a tightening of the grip on her neck.

  ‘Now tell me again,’ he whispered soothingly, ‘why you love me so.’

  70

  The dark-haired woman cooed to the sleeping child, rocking her gently upon her lap. She felt so weary. The pain in her ribs combined with the lack of food, water and light drained her energy with every movement. Time was immeasurable in the dark, the passing of days or hours no longer relevant to their existence.

  When MaryAnn awakened, the woman planned to teach her how to stretch her muscles and control her breathing, using yoga to keep up her strength without too much exertion.

  She found she no longer cared about herself. Death wasn’t something she feared. If she had been alone, she may have found a way to end it, but now she needed to keep the child strong.

  A flame of anger still burned within her and whispered fiercely that an escape would present itself, a small crack, a mistake. The child would have to be able to run. She could tackle the man again, surprise him, hurt him – she had proven that – and hold him back for at least a short time.

  The woman talked to herself, repeating the plan inside her head, a silent monologue of affirmations.

  With every fibre of her being she swore she would allow no one to harm the child.

  71

  Sam stopped the Mercedes in the empty parking lot at the rear of the mall and retrieved his gun from the glovebox. He took his time reloading the ammunition and making sure the chamber under the hammer was empty. Once satisfied, he slipped it into the pocket of his vest and waited.

  At midnight, a sleek black Cadillac Escalade SUV with tinted windows cruised by his window and stopped a short distance
away. Sam climbed out and crossed the gap as the SUV’s rear passenger window rolled down in whisper silence.

  Vadik’s wide face peered out from the inner darkness. Another figure sat beside him, but he sat deeper in the shadows, face turned away.

  ‘You got my message?’

  ‘Hard to miss.’ Sam focused on his breathing as he struggled to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

  ‘You up for this?’ Vadik asked.

  Sam nodded, his eyes hard, stance solid, showing confidence.

  ‘Just like the movies, huh?’ Vadik’s smile narrowed. ‘Only in this case, we want all cameras off.’

  ‘It won’t be a problem.’

  ‘Good.’ Vadik glanced down at his watch. ‘My crew will be here in twenty minutes. Make sure the cargo doors are open and they have full access to every store.’

  ‘What about my money?’

  Vadik grinned and Sam saw a brief flash of white teeth from the stranger beside him.

  ‘A man after my own heart.’

  With a nod from Vadik, the driver’s door opened and the hulking guard stepped out with a briefcase. He walked around the large vehicle and handed it to Sam. A short steel chain dangled from the black handle, ending in a single handcuff.

  Sam accepted the case, noticing its heft. Paper isn’t heavy, but a quarter million dollars’ worth has real weight. The guard handed him two small silver keys on a single metal loop and returned to the vehicle.

  ‘Once my men are inside and we’re sure you’ve done your job, you’re free to go,’ Vadik said. ‘Any questions?’

  Sam shook his head, steeling himself for the job ahead.

  Vadik stared at him a moment longer, the silence uneasy. Sam could feel himself being measured, judged. He didn’t flinch.

  Vadik flicked his eyes to the side and the stranger gave a short nod. The window slid back into place, its dark tint obscuring the interior.

  The SUV drove away as Sam approached the mall.

  72

  Sam rapped on the large metal doors at the rear of the mall, knowing that if Ken had stuck to his regular patrol schedule he would be in the immediate area.

  He waited a few minutes and rapped again.

  ‘Who’s there?’ asked a small voice from behind the door.

  ‘Ken, it’s Sam. Open up.’

  There was a rattling of keys before the door opened a crack and Ken peered out.

  ‘Hi, Sam,’ he said guardedly. ‘I thought you were taking a few days off.’

  Sam beamed him a friendly smile. ‘I am, Ken.’ He held up the briefcase. ‘Just need to pick up a few things.’

  ‘At this time?’

  Sam chuckled. ‘Well, I wanted to see you, too, didn’t I?’

  Ken grinned and opened the door wider to let him enter. ‘It’s not as good, patrolling without you, Sam.’

  ‘Who did they partner you with?’

  Ken rolled his eyes. ‘Harry. He volunteered to do a double, but I haven’t seen him all shift.’

  ‘He in the locker room?’

  Ken nodded. ‘I had to switch off the radio. He started to bloody sing.’

  Sam laughed and clapped a hand on Ken’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go find him and make sure he’s still conscious.’

  Sam’s smile faded as he led the way down the dark corridor.

  When Sam opened the locker-room door, Harry was slumped on the floor, his chin on his chest, snoring loudly. An empty bottle of bourbon rested beside his hand. The sleeping giant wore only a white undershirt, blue boxers and an unusual pair of elastic garters. His uniform pants, dress shirt, holster and jacket were draped over the wooden bench.

  Ken peered over Sam’s shoulder. ‘Th-th-that’s not allowed,’ he stammered. ‘He could be fired.’

  Sam bent to the bench and retrieved Harry’s holster and his ring of keys. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned to his partner. ‘I’ll need your gun and keys, too, Ken.’

  ‘W-what? Why?’

  ‘It’s too difficult to explain. Just hand them over.’

  Ken stiffened and pulled back his shoulders. ‘I won’t. You taught me never to turn over my gun.’

  ‘I also taught you not to do anything foolish. Now trust me and hand them over.’

  Ken’s eyes flicked left and right and his lower lip trembled. ‘I can’t, Sam. It’s my job to—’

  Sam casually pulled his gun out of his pocket and placed it against Ken’s forehead. The young guard flinched as steel kissed flesh.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ken, but I need to do this.’

  ‘G-geez, Sam,’ Ken stuttered. ‘We . . . we’re friends.’

  ‘That’s why I’m asking nicely, Ken. I want to make sure you survive this.’

  Ken gulped. ‘Survive?’

  ‘I need you to stay here with Harry and not move or try to raise the alarm until the morning shift arrives. Do you understand?’

  Ken shook his head.

  ‘Yes, you do, Ken. Just relax and take a few deep breaths. Find something to read or have a snooze. It may not look like it right now, but I am being your friend.’

  Ken sniffled. ‘I trusted you, Sam.’

  ‘Keep trusting and you’ll walk out of here alive.’

  Ken’s shoulders slumped as he unbuckled his holster and handed it over along with his ring of keys and magnetic security card.

  ‘They’ll fire me for this.’

  ‘That might not be a bad thing,’ Sam said. ‘It’ll give you a chance to find something you love.’

  ‘That doesn’t always work out though, does it?’ Ken muttered meaningfully.

  Sam didn’t hear him as he exited the room and locked the door.

  73

  Sam quickly made his way up the rear stairs to the second-floor security booth. During the day shift, three guards patrolled the bustling mall on foot and a rotating fourth guard monitored the close-circuit TVs from the booth. At night, with all the stores closed, it stood empty.

  Sam opened the booth with Ken’s keys and quickly shut down all external and internal cameras and alarms. It took five minutes to make sure he had covered everything before he left the booth and headed back downstairs.

  When he swung open the doors to the loading dock, two semi-trailers had already backed into place with their rear doors open. A muscular black man approached.

  ‘You Sam?’ His voice was like gravel falling onto tin.

  Sam nodded.

  ‘We tha’ first crew,’ he said. ‘You got keys?’

  Sam held up an electronic pass card. ‘This will open every store. It’s a master security card.’

  The man plucked it out of Sam’s hand. ‘Tha’s cool. Everyt’ing else set?’

  ‘All cameras are off, the alarms have been disabled and the guards dealt with. You’ve got six hours before the day shift arrives.’

  The man grinned. ‘Plenty o’ time. Anyt’ing you want as souvenir, help you’self. Nice TV, maybe? Decent suit?’

  Sam patted his briefcase. ‘I got what I came for.’

  The man turned to the trucks and waved his arm. Ten behemoths in muscle shirts and loose pants walked from the shadows and vanished into the mall.

  74

  Sam entered the motel room quietly. Zack had fallen asleep on top of the covers, arms folded on his stomach. He was still dressed, his breathing so shallow that his chest barely moved, and in sleep he looked as fragile as a sparrow.

  Sam moved to wake him, but Zack’s eyes were already opening. He stared at Sam and blinked as if not recognizing him.

  ‘Every time I close my eyes,’ he said, his voice eerily distant, ‘I see Jasmine and Kalli.’

  Sam didn’t know what to say.

  Zack rubbed his face with the palms of his hands as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He cleared his throat. ‘How did it go at the mall?’

  Sam held up the briefcase. ‘I got the money. They got the mall.’

  ‘And your partner?’

  ‘Ken should be fine if he does what I told him.’r />
  ‘That’s good. See. You’re still a good man.’ He patted Sam’s arm and stood up. ‘Where we off to?’

  ‘Back to the bridge. Davey should be waiting.’

  In the motel parking lot, Zack popped the trunk to the Mercedes. Inside were two large red duffel bags.

  ‘Have a look if you want,’ Zack said.

  Sam unzipped one of the bags and stared down at close to half a million dollars in US currency.

  ‘It doesn’t seem real,’ he said. ‘It’s too perfect.’

  Zack nodded. ‘I’m used to having bills stuffed in my pockets, or a few crisp ones in my wallet, but when I see them like this, fresh from the printer, I realize it’s just paper and ink.’ He paused. ‘All this pain for something so . . . worthless.’

  Sam closed the first duffel and unzipped the second, which had more room. He unlocked the briefcase and added its stacks of bills to the duffel. He didn’t see the point in counting it. If Vadik had shorted him, what could he do?

  75

  The underbelly of Burnside Bridge was noisier than usual when Zack and Sam approached. Groups of people were huddled in large, protective circles: others wandered aimlessly from burning barrel to burning barrel.

  Sam was disturbed to see several people wailing and babbling nonsensically as they pounded fists into the dirt until their hands were raw. A baby’s cry cut through the din like a siren. It was joined by the frantic humming of a lullaby on speed.

  The gatekeeper approached, his face tense.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Jus’ a bit busy,’ the hobbit growled. ‘Cops busted a few west-side camps tonight, so we have overflow. Regulars return to find their spot taken an’ it don’t go over well.’

  ‘Is Davey here?’

  Just as the hobbit nodded, a fight erupted behind him. Two snarling men, all teeth and claws, tore at each other’s clothes and skin. Sam stepped back, stunned by their volcanic rage. One of the men fell onto his back and the other pounced. His fingers were curled into hooks. He landed on the fallen man’s chest, digging fingers into his hair and slamming his head against the ground until he stopped moving.