Alex Gray - A Pound Of Flesh

It was only a matter of time before her various organs began to shut down, the policewoman knew. But the car was still on the move, Badica at its wheel, so perhaps her fate was to be decided sooner than that.

The sound of her mobile ringing in the inside pocket of her coat made Barbara freeze for an instant. Would he hear the ringtone? Guess that someone was trying to locate her? She held her breath as the noise of the engine and the rattle as the car passed over yet another pot hole drowned out the sound of her phone. For a moment her thoughts raced. If this was Monday morning then perhaps she had already been missed? Maybe at this very moment officers were out combing the countryside for her.

As the car turned a sharp bend Barbara sensed that they were climbing upwards into hill country, her body rolling back against the edge of the boot. She had tried to make out whereabouts they were going after the car had left the confines of the garage but it had been hopeless. Stops and starts that might have signalled traffic lights, the thunderous noise of lorries (on a motorway?) and the whine of vehicles passing them by had given way to the sound of the Mercedes’ engine note alone and Barbara guessed that they had left the city behind.

When the car stopped abruptly, she felt her whole body being jolted against the sides of the boot. Then she heard the sound of footsteps on gravel and at last the boot door was raised and a sudden light flooded onto her face.

Barbara squeezed her eyes shut, too terrified to look at the man who bent over her.

With an exclamation of disgust he pulled her roughly from the boot, hauling her by the binding tapes so that she cried out as they bit further into the flesh around her wrists.

Then her feet were being dragged along the ground and Barbara felt the freezing air around her and heard the incongruous note of a robin shrilling nearby.

As her head hit the frozen ground Barbara thought for a moment that he was going to leave her there. But the thought was short lived as blow after blow rained down on her unresisting body.

She heard the sickening crunch of metal on bone as something struck her bare wrists but the gasping moan was drowned out by her attacker’s sudden yell.

She couldn’t understand the language but there was no mistaking the tone of venom.

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the man’s boot made contact with her back and then she was rolling down and down, pain coursing through every bit of her body as she thudded over tussocks of frosty grass and sharp stones that bruised her face and hands.

The thorn tree that broke her fall was halfway down a steep gully so full of litter that the policewoman’s body would look like just more rubbish left by fly-tippers.

Her head pounding, Barbara heard the car door slam somewhere in the distance then the noise of the Mercedes’ engine became quieter and quieter until it disappeared completely. As she lay there, pinned against the trunk of the tree, her eyes closed against the cold skies.

The vagrant robin called fretfully from a neighbouring bush but there was no listening ear to hear his song.

‘Where the hell is she?’ DI Proctor cursed under her breath. The telephone call to Mr and Mrs Knox had not helped in the slightest and had only caused Barbara’s mother to become alarmed for her daughter’s safety.

‘Any luck?’ Tom Armstrong leaned against the door jamb, his brow furrowed in concern.

‘Nope. And still no reply from her landline or her mobile. Think we’ll have to put her door in by the looks of it. Her folks don’t have a spare key and didn’t know of any neighbour who would have one.’

‘Want me to call Mill Street, see if they can spare a couple of their heavies?’

Monica shook her head. ‘No. Lorimer wants this kept in-house for now. Besides, I’d like to go over there myself. See if she’s okay.’

‘Right. Give me a minute to see if Duncan’s around. Between the pair of us we’ll break the door down, no bother,’ Armstrong assured her.

A small woman carrying heavy shopping bags and coughing badly was trudging up the flight of stairs in front of the three officers as they entered the block of flats where Barbara lived. Monica looked questioningly at the men. Should they ask the wee wifie if she knew DC Knox? Armstrong caught her look but shook his head and they fell back a little against the first turn of the stairs to let the woman get ahead of them and into her own flat. Monica sighed. This was a delicate affair: if Barbara was unwell and inside her flat she’d be affronted if they caused a fuss. The noise of a door being put in would echo loudly in the frosty air and no doubt bring neighbours running.

‘Okay,’ Sutherland whispered. ‘Next floor up and to the right.’

Barbara’s door was a plain wooden one with a brass knob, and on the wall to the left was a clear plastic nameplate with KNOX in plain bold lettering just below a doorbell.

Monica put out one gloved hand, pressed the bell and let it ring out. A peremptory rapping on the door itself proved just as fruitless and Armstrong took a couple of steps back, positioning the ramrod for maximum impact.

Whumph!

The sound of splintering wood echoed through the stone landing as the door sagged backwards.

‘Good God in Govan! It’s like a bit of matchwood,’ Armstrong declared, stepping into the hallway and examining the twisted hinges.

Monica pushed her way past him and went from room to room, calling Barbara’s name. There was no reply. Monica moved quickly now, her eyes frantically taking in any clue as to where their missing colleague might be.

‘Nobody here,’ she said at last.

‘Come through to the lounge a wee minute,’ Sutherland called. See what our pal’s been up to.’

Monica walked back into the main room, wondering what mischief Sutherland was intent on. What had he found? Some sex toys, perhaps? It was common knowledge that he had harboured a bit of a grudge against the woman, not least because of her sexuality.

‘Here,’ he said, waving a sheaf of papers as Monica approached. ‘These shouldn’t be out of HQ. Not under any circumstances.’

Monica snatched the papers from him and immediately recognised them as printouts from their case. ‘Good Lord!’ she exclaimed, reading page after page of highly sensitive information. ‘What the hell’s she been doing?’

The clouds that covered the stars drifted across the heavens, a freshening breeze bringing a hint of moisture in the air. As the first drops fell to earth they splashed against last year’s fallen leaves, creating tiny puddles in crevices hollowed out by the roots of the tree.

Barbara opened her eyes, feeling the raindrops on her face. Thrusting out her tongue between the lines of duct tape that she had already chewed away, she held them as they fell, swallowing painfully. She had no idea how long it might have been since he had left her there like a useless piece of garbage, but darkness had already fallen and the cold was making her body stiffen. Was that her fate, then? To die here in this filthy hollow? Was there any point in tasting these precious drops or was her body simply obeying a primitive need?

When the shivering began, Barbara tried to take deep breaths but somehow all she could do was shudder and gasp as the rain drilled against her face. She made to flex her fingers in one last vain attempt to free herself from the bonds but somehow her hands did not obey her brain, numbed as they were, and Barbara gave a huge sigh as the yearning to sleep took over.

She was only dimly aware of the strong scent of musk as the fox came closer, sniffing the ground as it padded around the bole of the tree. Then the sky seemed to splinter into shards of silver light as the world tilted sideways and her body convulsed into spasms of shivering, her teeth chattering inside her head.