Tania Carver - Choked

The dog lay twitching, spasming.

The Golem knew he would get no more trouble from that one.

He turned to the other dog. He had no opportunity to defend himself this time. Would just have to take the pain.

The second Rottweiler was on him. Its jaws opened, distended, clamped down on his left forearm. The pain coursed through him, hard and fast, like he’d grabbed an electric cable.

He tried to ignore it. Couldn’t. Screamed.

Hearing that, the dog bit down harder. Tried to wrestle him to the ground, rip his arm off in the process.

The Golem resisted, pulled the opposite way. He could feel flesh and muscle, skin and sinew tear away from his bone as he did so. The blood pumped out, soaking his shirt, filling the dog’s face, its eyes. The dog tasted it, got high on the bloodlust, bit down all the harder. Pulled more ferociously.

The Golem saw the figure from the window move outside. The target was getting away.

He brought his right arm over, bunched his fingers into a fist, brought it down hard on the dog’s snout. The dog roared, either in pain or anger, he couldn’t tell, but didn’t let go. He hit it again. The jaws loosened slightly. Pursuing the advantage, he forced the dog to the ground. It struggled, tried to get away. He pinned it down with his legs.

He managed to get his fingers into the dog’s mouth, pushing back against its teeth. The dog squirmed, tried to wriggle away. The Golem wouldn’t let it. Despite the pain making him light-headed, he held on.

His fingers pushed against the dog’s top jaw. He used his left arm to pull its lower jaw down. He could feel the teeth sinking further into his flesh the harder he pulled down. He focused, concentrated, tried to ignore the pain.

Kept his mind on his goal. His target.

The target must not escape.

He pushed further. Heard, felt something tear in the dog’s face. Kept pushing. More blood, the dog’s this time, as he prised its jaws apart.

He felt its grip on his arm loosening, heard a whimper from within its throat. He kept pushing.

The dog realised it was beaten, let go.

The Golem pulled his arm from its jaw, let the dog slump to the ground. It lay there, whimpering.

He looked over at the house. His target would be getting away. He glanced down again to the dogs. They were both in pain, dying. He couldn’t leave a wounded animal in that state. He knelt down beside the first one, looked into its eyes. Snapped its neck. Did the same to the second.

Then stood up.

Target in his sights.

‘There,’ said Mickey, pointing at the screen. ‘That’s her.’ Grainy CCTV footage showed Marina standing at the counter of the service station, looking around anxiously, handing over her card, getting out as quickly as possible, not even waiting for her receipt.

‘She seemed to be in a hurry, I remember that about her.’ The woman who had served her was speaking. She was big, heavyset. Anni thought she looked like a farmer’s wife. Probably was.

‘You sure that’s all?’ said Anni. ‘Anything else you can tell us about her?’

The farmer’s wife stared at the screen, trying to dredge up some memory that would help. Anni had found this a lot with witnesses. They wanted to feel involved, part of the investigation. They wanted to impart some knowledge that would be pivotal, that could crack the case. Something no one else had spotted, something unique. But the woman couldn’t do it.

Probably because there wasn’t anything more there.

‘How did she seem to you?’ asked Mickey.

‘Just like she looks on there,’ said the farmer’s wife. ‘Wanted to pay and get away, as quickly as possible.’

‘Which way was she headed?’ asked Anni. ‘Towards Colchester or towards Braintree?

The woman thought again. Trying hard to be helpful. Eventually shaking her head. ‘Colchester, I think.’

‘Can we see it again, please?’ said Anni.

The farmer’s wife rewound the tape. They watched Marina queue up, tapping one foot in impatience. They saw her look round, anxiety in her face. At one point she stared directly into the camera.

‘Pause it,’ said Mickey.

The woman did as he asked. Mickey and Anni both studied the blurred image.

‘What’s she doing?’ said Anni. ‘Is she … D’you think she knows she’s being watched?’

‘I think she does, yeah,’ he said. ‘She knows she’s on CCTV.’ He turned to the farmer’s wife. ‘Play it forward a few frames.’

She did so. They watched as Marina seemed to stare right into the lens. She looked apologetic, beaten. Then she paid.

‘That’s that, then,’ said Mickey, sitting back.

‘Keep watching,’ said Anni. ‘There’s something … ’

Marina had bought a pack of mints. They watched her take one, then, when the farmer’s wife wasn’t looking, screw the wrapper up and drop it on the floor.

‘Nice,’ said Anni.

Then she was out of the shop and on her way.

They both sat back. Looked at each other.

They fired a few more questions at the farmer’s wife, but it was clear to both of them that the woman had told them everything she could. Mickey left his card with her in case anything else occurred to her. They thanked her for her time, drove off.

‘Well, that was less than helpful,’ said Mickey.

‘What did you expect? She clearly doesn’t want to be found. For whatever reason.’

They drove towards Colchester. Mickey checked his watch.

‘Nearly knocking-off time. We’ve got no more leads, no other jobs we should be doing. I reckon we should head for home.’

‘Reckon you’re right,’ said Anni. ‘We’re about to hit overtime. Franks wouldn’t like that.’

They drove on in silence. Anni eventually spoke. ‘So, you got any plans for tonight?’

‘Me? Nah. Nothing special.’

‘Really?’ There was a playful edge to Anni’s voice. ‘Not rushing off to Ipswich to see your cowgirl DS?’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

From the side, Anni could see that Mickey was reddening. His driving had speeded up too.

‘I told you,’ he said, feeling he ought to explain more, ‘there’s nothing in it. Not on my part, anyway.’

‘Good,’ said Anni. ‘Glad to hear it.’

‘Yeah?’ he said.

‘Yeah.’ Anni smiled. Moved towards him. ‘In that case, if you’ve got nothing special on tonight and you’re not after her, why not come back to mine?’

The expression on Mickey’s face, thought Anni, was priceless.

The pain was excruciating. The Golem sank to his knees, clutching his torn arm with his good hand. He wanted to black out. He wanted it to stop.

But he knew he could have neither.

Closing his eyes, focusing on finding a still point, removing the pain from his mind wasn’t an option. If he closed his eyes, even for a second, his quarry might escape. And he couldn’t allow that. So he had to give himself the mental and emotional equivalent of a field dressing. Attempt to block it out as much as possible and keep going.

He struggled to his feet, took a couple of deep breaths. Tried to stop his head from spinning. Concentrate on his task. He was a soldier. He was being paid to deliver a service.

So do it, he told himself.

The Golem resumed his walk towards the house. He saw the figure through the window, panicking, hurrying to disconnect a laptop and other electronic items. He watched as the figure gave up on the wires, bundling everything together and just making for the door, laptop under his arm.

The Golem would be ready for him.

He increased his speed, breathing heavily each time his booted feet thudded on the ground. Reached the door of the house. Tried it. Locked.

Of course.