Dead if You Don’t

55

Sunday 13 August

00.00–01.00

‘Plan B!’ Aleksander Dervishi said. He giggled.

The two boys were in the cellar of the isolated, derelict Victorian farmhouse, one of many properties Aleksander’s father owned awaiting planning permission for redevelopment.

Mungo reached over, removed the joint from his hand and took a deep toke. ‘Plan B — what do you mean? Plan A is still good, right?’

‘You don’t know my father.’

‘You don’t know mine,’ Mungo said. ‘The mean bastard.’

The two boys sat on the stone floor of the musty cellar, in the dim light of two thick, flickering candles. Discarded McDonald’s cartons from their dinner lay beside them, the cardboard of one cannibalized to make the joints Aleksander had rolled. Mungo took another toke and passed it back to Aleksander. Above them, faintly, in the darkness of the night sky, they heard the wokka-wokka-wokka of a helicopter that was doing a steady sweep search, using a powerful searchlight shining down from its underside.

‘I’m serious,’ Aleksander said. ‘Plan A is dead. There’s been a fuck-up of some kind.’

Mungo took back the joint and toked again. ‘So, un-fuck it up.’

‘I will — but it means going home.’

‘Shit, you’re not leaving me here, alone?’

‘Hey, stay cool, dude! You’ve got plenty of rats and spiders down here to keep you company!’

‘That’s not funny. And it’s not our plan. And I’m cold and I’m still hungry. I’ve got the munchies. Do you have any chocolate?’

‘You ate it. I’ll bring some tomorrow.’

‘Alek, you are not serious, you are not leaving me alone here. No way. No which way. You’re not losing your fucking nerve, are you? Come on, we’re in this together.’ There was panic in Mungo’s voice. He picked up the roll of duct tape they’d used earlier for the photograph, stared at it, then put it back on the floor. ‘Look, we — we send them another text. Give my father one hour to send the money or I die.’

‘Dude, you are not thinking straight. First your dad has to set up a Bitcoin account. Then you have to have an account that can’t be traced for the Bitcoins to be deposited in.’

Mungo stared at him. ‘Your guys — your dad’s bodyguards, right? — Valbone and Dritan — I thought they had it sorted — like, we’re giving them a generous cut. I thought they had an account that couldn’t be traced, right?’

‘Don’t worry, they’re good dudes, I’ve known them since I was just a little kid. They hate my dad, they think he’s a brutal asshole. They’re with us, one thousand per cent. It’s happening — might just take a bit longer than we planned.’

‘How much longer?’

‘I’ll find out.’

‘I need something more to eat. I can’t believe you didn’t bring anything else.’

‘One spliff and you turn into, like, a Dyson, dude!’ Aleksander said. ‘You’ve eaten six chocolate bars. On top of a Big Mac and fries and two doughnuts.’ His watch suddenly lit up with a message and he looked at it. ‘I gotta go, Valbone’s here.’

‘You are so not going, Alek.’

‘Trust me, I’ll be back in the morning. And I’ve got to charge my phone, I’m almost out of juice.’

‘What about my phone? Why did the morons take it from me?’

‘So you couldn’t be tracked, dumbo!’

‘Don’t leave me, Alek, I’m scared. I can’t stay here alone.’

‘Just remember why you’re doing this, OK? You wanted to piss your dad off, get back at him, get some money from him. Right?’

‘Not really, it’s not about the money.’

‘What do you mean? This is all about the money, that’s why we’re doing it!’

Mungo shrugged. ‘Yep, well I know it is for you, Alek.’

‘And it’s not for you? What is it for you?’

Mungo was silent, close to tears. ‘I just wanted to see how much they really love me.’

‘You’re not talking any sense.’

‘They always, like, worshipped my sister.’

‘Kayleigh — who died, right?’

‘She was — whatever you call it — the apple of my dad’s eye. I never really felt I mattered. Since she died it’s been a shitload worse. Kayleigh, Kayleigh, Kayleigh. Sometimes I feel like they don’t even see me, that I don’t even exist. No one was bothered about me when she died, whether I missed her or not. I’m the brother that got forgotten. They never ask me how I feel about it. You know what I really feel? That they’re upset she died and I’m the one who lived, and that maybe they’d have liked it the other way round. That’s why I’m doing this, to test them, to see if they really do care — you know — like, enough to pay the ransom.’

‘So, hang loose.’

‘Easy for you to say. You’re going home in a warm car to food and your bed. What am I meant to do?’

‘Be a brave soldier!’ Aleksander stood up. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can in the morning. Meantime, I’ll send Valbone back with a stash of food for you, OK?’

‘And a torch and some toilet paper.’

‘What brand would your precious, tender bum like?’

‘Screw you.’

Mungo sat miserably as his friend, guided by the light of his phone, headed up the staircase.

Halfway, Aleksander stopped and turned round. ‘Dude, stay cool. Valbone will be back in an hour.’

‘Did you even listen to what I just said, Alek?’

His friend grinned. ‘I did — you’re having a funny five minutes, it’s the weed, you’ll get over it.’

‘It’s not a funny five minutes. It’s why I’ve bloody done this.’

‘Cool, understood, see you in the morning, dude.’

‘Do you have another joint you could leave me?’

‘I did, but we just smoked it.’

As his friend vanished upstairs, the dope having little effect, Mungo stared around. At the guttering candles. The bare walls. The spiders’ webs. He was really scared. This wasn’t working out — how had he ever thought it possibly could? But now they were too deep in.

Shit.

Shit.

Maybe he should just go home. But what would that achieve, apart from dumping Alek in the shit for helping him? What a mess.

What a bloody mess.

He shivered.

Then he began to cry.