Inhuman Remains

Thirty-one

I tell you now, those damn weapons do exactly what it says on the tin, as the wood-preservative ads insist. I saw those probes coming at me, and when they hit, and the fifty thousand volts followed, I was completely helpless. I was pitched backwards, overturning the chair, my limbs convulsing and twitching within their restraints. I was barely aware of it, though: along with loss of physical control there was a feeling of total confusion. As we say in Scotland, I was completely wandered. I had no idea where I was, or what I was supposed to be doing there. If I had been asked what my name was, and I’d been able to speak, I’d have replied, ‘Uh?’

I have no idea how long I was out of it, but gradually my bewilderment began to dissipate; I returned, slowly, to my senses, and felt the paralysis wearing off too. Of course, that didn’t mean I could move: I was still tethered to that very solid chair, on my back and, as all of it came back to me, acutely aware that at any moment I could expect a return visit from Sebastian and Willie. If there really is a Shit Creek, I was well and truly up it. Yet as I turned my head to look around I caught a glimpse of something that might just be a paddle.

Frank’s clever little Swiss Army knife lay only a few feet away, where Willie had discarded it after cutting him loose, and the razor-sharp blade was open. If I could get to it. .

I thought about rolling over, but realised that even if I could manage it once, I’d never have the leverage to do it a second time, as I’d need to if I was going to reach it. So, rather than try that, I began to shuffle sideways, using my hips to generate the movement, and my palms to help. My hands weren’t tied together behind my back; instead, my arms were lashed to the sides of the chair, giving me a little flexibility.

It took me more time than I believed I had to get to it, but I managed to pull myself the few feet that I needed. I felt sideways, blindly, for the knife, until my fingertips touched its plastic casing, and I was able to grip it, and manoeuvre it in my hand until I reckoned I knew where the blade was in relation to everything else. Something told me that I might only have one shot at what I was going to attempt. The same prescience told me that there was a fair chance I’d slice my wrist open in the process and maybe bleed to death. I closed my eyes and thrust the blade upwards. . straight into my binding, cutting through it far enough for me to rip my arm free.

The rest took seconds, that was all, and then I was out of the chair and on unsteady legs, unfastening the gag that had once been a serviceable shirt. My eyes had grown accustomed to the light, or lack of it. I could see two small red dots on my belly where the darts had hit. My arms were filthy from the dust on the floor, and my jeans felt damp. I hoped it was only sweat, and that I hadn’t wet myself under the grip of the non-lethal but, by Jesus, bloody powerful current. I sniffed, and was reassured.

As I stood there, I heard a noise and saw movement in the handle of one of the double doors, the one on my right. I went cold inside, knowing what I had to do. There was no time for subtlety. Sebastian or Willie, whoever would draw the short straw and come first into that room, was getting the blade in the throat, and then, broken toe or not, the other one was getting the benefit of everything I’d ever learned in those tae kwon do classes, until he wasn’t moving, or breathing either, if I could manage that. I took a couple of steps to my left and waited as the handle turned fully, and as the door creaked open.

‘Primavera?’ The voice was anxious, but it was strong.

I only realised that I had been holding my breath when it escaped from me in a great gasp of relief. ‘Gerard,’ I yelled, and then my sense of danger kicked back in. ‘Be careful. They’re out there.’ I reached out to pull him inside, but he held my wrist.

‘There’s nobody out here,’ he said gently, drawing me into the daylight. He had changed out of his priest suit into a grey shirt and camouflage shorts, the sort of gear he often wears when he’s not ministering. He stood there, built like a good-sized brick outhouse, and I felt safe. I felt even safer when I looked around. The Land Rover was gone.

‘I followed you as soon as the service was over,’ he told me. ‘It took longer than I thought, as some more worshippers came in from the beach.’ He smiled. ‘That can happen when it’s really hot. I’ve come to regard it as one of God’s mysterious ways. Now tell me, what’s happened, and where are your aunt and your cousin?’

Suddenly my legs felt weak again. A couple of metres away, I saw the remnants of a small stone wall. I tottered across and sat on it. ‘They’re gone,’ I told him. ‘Sebastian and Willie, the men who were holding them, took them away, one by one, to be killed. I thought I was going to be next; they tied me to a chair and shot me with a stun gun. When you opened the door, Father Gerard, I thought you were them. If you’d stepped inside. .’ I was still holding the knife. I smiled at him weakly. ‘Going to give me absolution?’ I asked, and then I burst into tears.

He sat beside me and held me until I’d cried myself out. ‘There’s nothing to absolve, little sister,’ he whispered. ‘You have no sin in your heart.’ He stood, and I did also; I looked down at my sweaty, begrimed body and felt embarrassed by my state of undress. I walked back to the retreat and looked inside. My shirt was useless, but my jacket was still there, on the floor. I put it on and fastened it. Not pretty, but it did the job.

‘We must call the police,’ said Gerard, taking out his mobile.

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But I’m going to look around. Frank and Adrienne, their bodies. .’ My words tailed off.

‘You should leave that for the Mossos.’

‘Yes? And what if one of them’s still alive?’

If they were there, I guessed that they’d be in the open. There couldn’t have been time to bury them, surely. I headed across the clearing to where the vehicle had been. The ground was hard and dry. There were no tyre marks, but crushed twigs and leaves showed where it had stood. All around, the bushes were thick. If two bodies had been dragged in there, I’d have seen the evidence. I was about to look in another area when something dark caught my eye, on the ground, a few metres distant. I approached it, carefully, and knelt when I reached it.

‘What is it?’ Gerard called to me. ‘I’m speaking to Alex Guinart.’

‘Blood,’ I replied. ‘Tell him I’ve found blood.’ There were two of them, side by side, big pools of dark blood. I’d seen things like that before, in Africa, and the people involved hadn’t walked away. I didn’t want to touch them, but I could see that they were fresh, still not quite dry, for all the force of the sun. ‘Tell him it looks as if they were killed here, and their bodies taken away.’