He pointed to the woman who was sat next to Claire, then reached forward and ripped the hood from her face. She started wailing like a baby.
The abductor looked at her closely. ‘See, I remember you. Meagan, isn’t it? I might look fucking stupid, but I never forget a face.’
The other woman was throwing her body one way, then the other, twisting, trying as best she could to free herself. Claire edged away as she tried to push backwards off the chair.
He smirked then continued. ‘Now it’s payback time, an eye for an eye. You both understand this, right? The thing is, I very much doubt he worked alone. It was too complicated, and besides, there’s something being kept from me, something I’m not being told. He most certainly had help, an accomplice to guide his actions. Look at the size of the trunk in this picture. I think he had help, don’t you?’ He leant forward, his forehead pressed against the other woman’s, holding an A4 page in front of her face. ‘Yeah, I remember you all right. How’s your husband, by the way?’
The abductor continued, ‘Someone planned it, organised the show, but she didn’t think about the fucking consequences. The way I see it, maybe you saw Tony doing his thing. He’s a debt collector. It’s his job; he roughs people up a little.’
He stood back, taking a deep breath. A dim bulb next to the door provided some welcome light. Claire stared at the crumbling wall behind him, the blackened damp marks, specks of paint lying on the watermarked ground. She was trying to figure out where they were. They’d driven for an hour, but she was unsure in which direction. She could feel the walls closing in on them.
The guy directed a question at Claire. ‘Where’s your phone?’
‘In-in my back pocket.’
The abductor untied her, struggling to loosen the knot in the rope, pulling her body forward. He fished the mobile from her jeans and placed it in her hands. ‘Call him!’
Claire lifted the phone, focusing on the screen, squinting her eyes to try and adjust her vision. She dialled Oliver’s number, and he answered instantly.
‘Claire. Thank God. Where the hell are you? I’ve been worried si–’
The phone was whipped from her hand. ‘Listen, dickhead. She’s with me.’
Oliver paused, trying to think what to say. He needed to keep calm and in control. ‘Who is this?’
‘Oh, I think you know full well who it is. So here’s what’s going to happen, Oliver. I have two women tied up in the basement. You should see them; it’s pathetic. They are begging for their fucking lives, an embarrassment. Anyway, let’s get to the point. You have twenty-four hours to wire money to an account I’m going to give you. If in that time the money doesn’t arrive, then you make a choice.’
He instructed Oliver to get a pen, reading out the account details, informing him again of the repercussions if he failed. He also stated the sum of money he wanted: £50,000.
The abductor hung up. He took a picture of the two women on the phone. ‘Smile, girls! I’m sending that to your boyfriend.’ He then placed the phone into the front pocket of his boiler suit, tied the rope around Claire’s hands, wrapping her body tightly to the chair.
‘You’re going to wait here.’
He turned to the other woman – Meagan, he’d called her – and rammed the gun into her mouth.
Meagan frantically tried to shift away from the weapon, the chair bouncing on the concrete floor. She was gagging and Claire feared she would vomit and choke to death. Her mouth was open, saliva spilling from her lips.
The man leaned forward into her face, pulling the gun from her mouth. ‘You’d better start talking.’
The woman gulped air, trying to release her body from the rope. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Your partner was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We didn’t mean it; it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It should have been my husband.’ She was hysterical, completely breaking down. She screamed out, crying uncontrollably. ‘Oliver made a mistake. It should have been my fucking husband.’
Claire sat still, listening to Meagan’s confession, waiting for the gun to go off, worried she’d be next in line, regardless of whether Oliver paid the money. She wanted Meagan to keep quiet, close her mouth and never speak again.
The man placed the hoods back over their heads. ‘Well then, thank you for clearing that up. Now someone’s going to fucking pay.’
Oliver stared at his phone. The picture of the two women had just come through, showing them held in a basement. He had goose pimples, his skin started to itch.
Claire and Meagan were tied up in a grotty room somewhere. He had to co-operate and pay this psychopath, but he feared it would not be the end. People like this never stop.
He’d come after Oliver, and maybe he’d pay, but the women would be killed for the fun of it. He knew these people were ruthless. Gloved-man pulled a woman into his apartment and drowned her in the bath, for Christ’s sake.
It might only be the start of his problems, but Oliver wasn’t going to delay. Two women’s lives were in danger, that was the reality. He had to deal with one thing at a time.
He looked at the piece of paper on which he’d taken notes during the call. The account number was a haze of digits lined up. He wondered how much these bastards had made from lending money to desperate people who needed cash for an electrical bill, heating, a phone that had been cut off, or to put food to the table.
Yes, certainly we can help. We’ll have the money sent to you immediately. Oh, I can imagine. It must be freezing. Well hey, light a candle for now, and you’ll be warm in no time. Oh, just one thing before I go, our terms. There’s just a little interest on the payment. Call it our hidden service charge if you like. Oh, and another thing, If you don’t pay, we’ll kill you. How about that? Have a great day now, won’t you!
Oliver had a crazy thought. He wondered what would happen if he called back and asked the abductor if he could borrow the ransom.
Oliver paced the kitchen floor, rubbing his face, his heart racing like a greyhound just released from the traps. He’d pay, what choice did he have? The money was a worry, but the greater concern was the hold this guy now had over him. He knew what Oliver had done. He’d taken Claire and Meagan, he’d seen the picture, knew where he lived. It was impossible for Oliver to go to the police. He contemplated going back to the lake in Tilford, cutting up the body and dumping it down the toilet. Even so, it could still be found.
He would pay the fifty grand, then what? What’s to say he won’t come after him again, demand more money, or even worse.
He sat by the breakfast bar, trying to keep calm. He opened his laptop and accessed his bank account. He had the money: he could just about scrape it together, but it would cripple him to send it over. Maybe if this was the end of the matter, it wouldn’t be so bad, but Oliver knew this was wishful thinking.
He stared at the money in his account, fearful for Claire and Meagan tied up, bound and gagged in a room and begging for their lives.
Tick, tick, Oliver. It’s in your hands now.
Claire and Meagan sat in the basement, their hands tied, rope marks on their wrists. They heard scuffling noises coming from the corner of the room. The sound seemed to be getting closer. Claire moved her feet, scratching the stony ground, fiddling with her fingers, trying to summon the strength to untie the rope. It was tight so it would take her hours to work it loose.