The Disappearance of Katie Wren (16 page)

“I have lots of plans. I just need to narrow them down and pick one that has a chance of working. A lot depends on how those assholes react. Don't underestimate how embarrassed they'll be that we've managed to penetrate even this far. I doubt anyone has ever snuck a microphone through their front door before.” She pauses for a moment. “I have a dead man's handle on a file containing information about them. That should give them pause for thought, assuming they've picked up on the hints. They'll want to avoid publicity, even though they know they can deal with the problem in the end.” She smiles. “Harry told me this was the best way to deal with them, and he was right.”

“You almost seem to be enjoying this,” I tell her. “It's like a game for you.”

“I've waited a long time for -”

“I'm going to find my daughter.” With that, I open the door and step out onto the cold pavement.

“Hey!” Annabelle clambers out the other side and starts hurrying after me as I make my way along the street. “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

“Knocking on their door worked just fine this morning,” I point out. “I rather think it might be a good idea to try the same thing again.”

“They'll kill you!”

“I'll take my chances. I'm starting to feel that you've blown all of this up in your head.”

“You
still
don't believe me?” she asks. “Seriously?”

“I'm sure there's a kernel of truth in what you're saying,” I tell her, “but I've always been a firm believer in the importance of tackling these things head-on. You've never gone and knocked on their door. I have. I think it's time to try things my way.”

I start crossing the road, heading toward the steps.

“Don't do this,” Annabelle stammers. “I need you!”

“For what?”

“To crack this place open!”

“I'm sure you'll manage.”

“No!” She steps in front of me, blocking my way, and I'm shocked by the desperation in her eyes. “I've waited so long for this chance!” she hisses. “For them to take someone, and for someone like you to come looking. Do you think it was a coincidence that I bumped into you at that police station the other day? Hell no! I've had my eye out for years, waiting for something like this to happen! I knew they were gonna make a move like this, I knew they were after someone particular or waiting for someone, and I just had to be patient! Please, you can't waste the opportunity by -”

“Is that all it is to you? An opportunity?”

“I can get your daughter out of there,” she continues breathlessly, “but only if -”

“You don't even have a plan,” I point out with a sigh. “You admitted that yourself, just a couple of minutes ago. If these people are as bad as you say they are, and if Katie's in as much danger as you suggest, then you have absolutely no means of dealing with them. Now, I intend to go to that front door and ask them very bluntly what's going on, and I intend to tell them that if I'm not satisfied with their answer, I shall go to the police. And I assure you, Annabelle, that the police
will
listen to me eventually. I still have faith that this is a country that's run according to the rules of law and order.”

“Don't be such a -”

“And now if you'll excuse me,” I continue, “I have to -”

Before I can finish, I spot a silhouette stumbling into view at the next corner. My first assumption is that the figure is just some late-night drunk, but after a moment she leans against a nearby car as if she's in pain. I watch for a few seconds, and finally the figure starts running before slipping and dropping to the ground.

Annabelle turns and immediately runs toward the figure.

“Katie?” I whisper, hurrying after her. For a moment, I feel a rush of hope in my chest, before seeing that the figure is in fact Agnes.

“What happened?” Annabelle asks, helping her to her feet.

“I ran,” Agnes gasps, clearly in pain. “They took me to the back, where the others are kept. They were going to take me away in a van, but they left the gate open and I ran.”

“Bullshit,” Annabelle replies, looking both ways along the street. “They'd never be that sloppy. If you made it out, it's 'cause they
want
you to make it out. I sent you in as a message, and they're sending you back out as another message.”

“I saw her,” she continues, turning to me. “I saw your daughter. I saw Katie.”

“This is way too convenient,” Annabelle mutters, sounding increasingly concerned. “They just -”

“She gave me this!” Agnes holds her hand out toward me, and after a moment I see something hanging from her fingers, glinting in the lights of the nearby streetlamp.

Reaching out, I take the necklace, and I immediately recognize it as Katie's.

“They're coming for me,” Agnes sobs. “You promised you'd help me, you said you'd get me away from here! Please, you have to keep your promise!”

“Hang on,” Annabelle replies, “just stick with us and you'll be fine. We have to get out of here.”

“I have to go home!” Agnes shouts, stumbling around the nearest car and out into the street. “You have to help me get home! I want to go back to France!”

“They've seen us!” Annabelle says suddenly.

Turning, I see that the door at the top of the steps has opened now, and a silhouetted figure appears to be watching us.

“They're setting us up,” Annabelle continues. “They're trying to make us panic. Smart plan, it's basically what I was trying to do to them. It won't work, though.”

“I'm going to go and talk to them,” I stammer, although I have to admit that the silhouette strikes a somewhat imposing figure as it continues to state at us. “This nonsense has gone on long enough.”

Annabelle grabs my arm. “We need to go somewhere they can't find us. I thought I had this under control but -”

“You don't have
anything
under control!” I snap, turning and watching for a moment as Agnes limps away across the street. “For God's sake, go and deal with her. Get her to a hospital or something, I don't know, it's not my concern. I intend to -”

Before I can finish, I hear a car speeding along the street. I turn just as the car flashes past us, and then to my horror I watch as the dark vehicle plows straight into Agnes from behind. She bounces up from the bonnet and over the back of the car before crashing down against the tarmac. I hear the sound of bones shattering as she lands just a few feet away, and she lets out a howling, pained cry.

I open my mouth to say something, but the car screeches to a halt and hesitates for a moment with its engine running, before starting to reverse at full speed.

“Help me,” Agnes gurgles, trying to get up despite her knot of broken limbs. “Please -”

The car speeds directly over her. I look away, but I still hear a series of loud crunches, along with gasps from horrified onlookers.

“Move!” Annabelle shouts, grabbing my arm and pulling me along the pavement. “We're getting out of here right now!”

She drags me across the street. Hearing the car's engine rev once more, I make the mistake of turning and looking over at the heap on the ground. Agnes is still moving, still trying to get up as the car's headlights blare down at her. A moment later, the car speeds forward again and I watch in horror as its wheels crush the poor girl's body, this time going straight over her head and causing it to burst open. As the car comes to a halt, I'm just about able to make out the calm, stony-eyed stare of the driver, who watches me for a moment before putting the car in reverse and driving one more time over what's left of Agnes.

“Get in!” Annabelle hisses, pulling me over to her car and opening the door before shoving me inside. “
Now
do you believe me that these people aren't fooling around?”

Too shocked to say anything, I wait as Annabelle runs around and gets into the driver's seat.

“What happened?” Tim asks from the back seat. “I heard people shouting. Is Agnes coming back?”

“I don't think so,” Annabelle mutters, starting the engine and then turning the wheel, driving the car onto the pavement and past several shocked onlookers. “Those assholes just made a very public statement, and you can bet your ass it was directed at us. They're not pissing about anymore.”

She drives the car to the corner of the pavement and then out onto the street again, before turning the wheel hard left and accelerating. There's plenty of late-night traffic around, with double-decker buses lumbering leisurely along ahead of us, and Annabelle is already cursing under her breath.

“Are they following us?” she asks after a moment.

Unable to reply, I sit in stunned silence and relive those awful moments over and over. In my mind's eye, I keep seeing Agnes's head bursting open as it's crushed by a tire.

“Are they following us?” Annabelle screams. “Will one of you assholes please look out the back window and help me here?”

I turn and look back, and I see that Tim is doing the same. At first I just see a few taxis and buses, but a moment later the black car swings around the corner and starts coming up behind us.

“I see them,” I stammer. “It's the car from -”

“Great!”

Annabelle turns the wheel, sending us at speed around the next right turn. Sure enough, a moment later the black car follows.

“This can't be happening,” I whisper, feeling as if my racing heart is about to burst out through my chest. “We're in the heart of London, for God's sake. We can't be being chased by -”

“In case you've forgotten,” Annabelle says darkly, interrupting me, “that asshole still has blood on his wheels. Does he look like he's worried about getting away before the cops show up? This is his very public way of demonstrating that he can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“But there are people around,” I point out, looking at the pavement and seeing late-night shoppers everywhere. “There are witnesses!”

“And tonight on the news, a nice explanation will be rolled out for everyone to believe,” she continues, taking us down another street. “Plenty of people saw Agnes getting killed. Maybe terrorists'll be blamed, or a spurned boyfriend, or maybe they'll come up with something new this time. I promise you, it'll all get neatly packaged into a bite-sized chunk for everyone to swallow, and the same goes for whatever they've got planned for us. They're experts at making their lies just believe enough for everyone to swallow.”

“But...”

I pause for a moment, watching as the black car continues to follow us. Turning to Tim, I see the shock in his eyes, and then I turn to Annabelle.

“These people are monsters,” I say finally.

“I've been telling you that all day!”

“But real monsters!” I continue. “The most awful...”

My voice trails off as I realize that Annabelle has been right all along.

“We definitely riled them,” she says after a moment. “More than I expected. They seem jumpier than usual.”

“Are you sure we shouldn't stop somewhere?” Tim asks. “I feel like this is all getting rather out of hand.”

“Relax,” Annabelle continues, “they're not
actually
chasing us. Why would they bother? In a city like this, they can track us any number of ways. They're sending a message, they're making sure we know they're onto us. It's working pretty well so far, don't you think? I mean, I've gotta admit, I consider myself to be a pretty streetwise girl but even
I'm
kinda sweating right now.”

She takes a hard right, driving us down a darker street, and sure enough the black car is still keeping pace with us. It's closer now, and I think I can see a few splashes of blood on its windshield.

“What does he want with us?” I ask. “Where can we go to get away from him?”

“I'm still thinking,” Annabelle mutters.

“You could try to drive faster,” Tim suggests.

“I'd crash!” she hisses. “Do I seem like the kind of person who'd get very far in a car chase through the middle of goddamn London? Look how many people are around! We'd get ten meters before I'd ram us into a goddamn bollard!”

“Still,” he continues, “it would seem appropriate to try. Are we just going to drive around until morning?”

“Maybe!”

“Go to a police station,” I tell her.

“Yeah, right.”

“I'm serious!”

“That'd be like delivering ourselves on a platter. They'd probably frame us for what happened to dumb little Agnes.”

“Of course they wouldn't!” I spit back at her. “The police aren't completely insane!”

“Your belief in those assholes is consistently cute, Winnie, but right now I'm a little too busy to explain for the umpteenth time why you're dead wrong. Emphasis on the
dead
!” She keeps her eyes on the road ahead. “What would
you
do right now, Harry?” she whispers under her breath. “Come on, you were always good at thinking on your feet. What would you do if you were in this situation?”

She takes a left turn, although this time the car briefly mounts the pavement.

“Shit!” Annabelle hisses, as the car bumps slowly against some boxes of fruit and vegetables outside a convenience store. Some of the boxes are knocked over, but Annabelle keeps going until we're back on the next street. “Sorry,” she mutters. “Low-speed car chase in progress with a bad driver at the wheel.”