Inhuman Remains

Eighteen

‘Frank!’ I screamed. ‘What the. .’

That was what Mark Kravitz had been saying when my phone went dead. If Frank’s mother had been kidnapped, that meant he was still alive, and on the loose.

‘Take a left at the end of this street,’ he said firmly, before the volcano I felt building within me had a chance to erupt. ‘We have to get out of the city centre and dump this thing before that woman sends the police, or anyone else, after us.’

‘I think you could find that the police are after her,’ I told him, ‘but you’re right in principle. I have to get to the airport: I’ve a plane to catch.’

‘It’s best if you miss it,’ he said. ‘Okay, go straight ahead till you get to the next junction, then left again, right at the lights and across the river.’

I concentrated on the road and on his instructions until we were on the other side of the Río Guadalquivir and well on our way into the southern suburbs. I could drive without too much discomfort, I’d discovered, if I made a point of keeping the pedal pressure on the ball of my foot.

‘Who was that creature?’ Frank asked, breaking the silence.

‘You don’t know?’

‘Never seen her before.’

‘She’s your replacement as director and sales manager of the Hotel Casino d’Amuseo. Where is it, by the way, the site of this mythical playground for the rich and famous?’

‘We’re on the way there now. Jeez,’ he mused, ‘that’s Lidia, is it? And I just stabbed her in the arse.’ I was reminded of something I’d forgotten, that he had inherited the vestiges of a Scottish accent from Auntie Ade.

‘Why did you do it, Frank?’ I demanded. ‘Why did you get involved with another fraud? Did you like being in jail? Do you like torturing your mother? For that’s what it amounts to.’

‘Please, Prim, later. I’ll tell you the whole story later. For now, take a right at this next fork then keep on that road for twenty-five kilometres or so.’

‘Where will that take us?’

‘I’ve told you, to the land where the casino was supposed to be.’

‘Whose land is it? Yours?’

Frank laughed. ‘As if I’d be that dumb. No, it belongs to him in the boot. There used to be a chemical works on it, in his father’s time, until there was an accident and it was shut down. The site’s been contaminated ever since, no use for agriculture or anything else.’

‘But all right for a leisure complex?’

‘That was the idea.’

‘And a great one it was,’ I retorted sarcastically. ‘Now here you are on the run, you’ve pulled me into it, I’ve had to send my son to safety and, to cap it all, your mother’s been kidnapped.’

He sat bolt upright. ‘Mum? Kidnapped?’

‘That’s how it looks. I left her at my place, with Tom. He went to walk the dog this morning and when she came back she was gone. The house was like the Mary bloody Celeste.’

‘Oh, Jesus!’ He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the rest behind him. Another indistinct shout came from behind us. ‘Shut up!’ Frank yelled. He picked up the gun from the central console, where I’d laid it, and fired a shot into the back seat, behind me, more or less in line with where Caballero’s feet must have been. Twin sounds echoed, from the silencer and from the upholstery, as the bullet ripped through it. All the way through? I waited for a scream but none came, only silence. I found myself hoping that the space wasn’t big enough for the guy to have twisted himself round.

I drove in silence after that, for I had something new to consider. I had marked my cousin down as something of a wimp, but it was all too clear that I’d been wrong. He’d bladed Bromberg without hesitation. He’d fired a shot that might have killed Caballero, for all we knew at that point, without even thinking about it. There was a dangerous side to him, and no mistake.

‘There’s a turning just ahead,’ he said, plucking me from my thoughts, ‘on the right. The road gets a bit bumpy after that, but follow it. It won’t be too comfortable for our passenger, but he’s asked for more than that.’

He was right about the track. The big car had luxury suspension, but even with that we were bounced about in our seats.

‘I’d have been back there if he’d had his way,’ I growled, through clenched teeth. Then I frowned as the obvious question finally forced its way out. ‘Frank, how come you showed up at the hotel in the nick of time, so to speak?’

‘I’ve been on the look-out for you,’ he replied, ‘since you left that ferocious message in my voicemail.’ He chuckled. ‘By the way, I do know what an orchidectomy is.’

‘You picked that up? So why didn’t you call me back?’

‘I’ve been keeping radio silence on the mobile. These things can be traced, you know, as easily as you can pin down a land-line call, maybe even more so. I knew you’d be flying down, and I could guess from where, so I staked out all the incoming Barcelona traffic at the airport, spotted you, and followed you, right to your hotel.’

‘So why didn’t you do the obvious and come in? Didn’t you want to be found?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it wasn’t that. I couldn’t be sure they weren’t following you too.’

‘They?’

He held up a hand. ‘Later, Prim. Like I said, the whole story, I promise.’ He stopped, then pointed ahead. ‘We’re here. Draw up by that building.’

We were in flat, arid open country, several hundred hectares by the look of it, well enough for all the website claimed was going to happen on the site. All around there was nothing to be seen, save for a big brick barn, with sliding iron doors made of corrugated iron and a pitched roof. I parked beside it as instructed.

‘You’ve been here before?’ I asked, as we stepped out into the blazing hot afternoon.

‘Sure, with him.’

‘Why are we here now? This doesn’t exactly look like a getaway route.’

‘Ah, but it is, cuz.’ He slid one of the barn doors open. It creaked, but moved easily, for its size. ‘Caballero keeps a few toys here: he’s got a quad bike, a few trail motorcycles and, of course, a four-by-four. I think we’ll borrow that for the next stage of our trip.’

I looked inside. Sure enough, the barn contained an array of recreational vehicles. ‘And what about him?’

‘Let’s see, shall we?’ He reached inside the car and pressed a button. The boot catch popped and the lid swung open.

Caballero’s eyes screwed tight as the sunlight hit him. His face was beetroot and he was soaked with sweat. The cream suit would never be the same again. He groaned, and made to get out until Frank waved the gun in his face.

‘Stay where you are,’ he snapped, in Spanish. ‘You’re getting no kindness from me, you bastard. Prim, do me a favour and get my rucksack.’

That was what he’d chucked into the back seat as he’d got into the car outside the hotel, a black bag with a single shoulder strap. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I’ve found it.’ It was weighty; I wondered what the hell he had in it.

‘Give it to me, please.’

Again, I did as he asked. He unzipped it, took out a bottle of water, and held it up for Caballero to see. ‘This is for you.’ He placed it on the ground, then slammed the boot lid shut once more. ‘Eventually.’

He walked round the car and shot out the tyres, one by one. ‘Can’t have him coming after us,’ he explained, as if I was a simpleton.

The keys were in the ignition of the four-by-four, a silver Suzuki Grand Vitara. Frank took the wheel. ‘No offence,’ he said, as we reversed out of the barn, ‘but I know where we’re going, so I’ll drive.’

‘Fair enough,’ I agreed. ‘That was a nice trick,’ I added, ‘bursting his tyres. But won’t he come after us on one of the bikes just as easily, once he gets out of there?’

‘True,’ Frank admitted. He stopped the car, got out and went back into the barn. I watched him as he picked up a container, as he splashed its contents over all of the machines inside, and as he took a book of matches from his pocket, lit one, used it to ignite the others, and tossed it on to the quad bike. Finally, almost as an afterthought, he threw the gun inside too. As he slid the door closed I could see the flames beginning to bloom like roses in an accelerated frame-by-frame nature film.

‘He will get out of there, won’t he?’ I asked, as we drove off.

‘Sure. Those things have a manual release inside the boot. They’re American made: I suppose they fit it in case you’re snatched by Big Tony Soprano and the boys.’

‘What if he doesn’t know that?’

Frank gave me the smile again. I felt a tremor as I realised just how much it reminded me of Oz. ‘Then that’ll be just too damn bad for him,’ he said.