Jack Wallace was leaning back against it, sipping from a tumbler of deep amber liquid. The glass looked weird in his black leather gloves, but the smoky scent of whisky oiled its way through the air anyway.
Baldy McFatface was on one of the sofas, nursing a dram of his own.
A third man, vaguely familiar — maybe one of the guys from the security footage of Wallace going to the pictures? — poured a good stiff measure into another tumbler and passed it to a ruinous wreck in a bloodstained shirt.
Bright red leaked from the wreck’s nose, ears, and mouth, dripping onto the tea towel he held in his other hand. That would be Tufty’s old friend Shadows then. Which explained the fridge-door-shaped dents in his ugly-shaped head.
Tufty nodded at him. ‘You want to put something cold on that. Like the fridge freezer.’
Shadows knocked back a mouthful of Steel’s whisky, winced, then glowered at him through puffy squinted eyes. Oh, right: no glasses — those got all broken in the kitchen.
Diddums.
Wallace snapped his fingers. ‘Richard: gag him.’
The vaguely familiar one put his tumbler on the piano and marched over, grabbed a handful of Tufty’s hair and yanked his head back.
Needles and pins dug their way through his scalp. Then a chunk of fabric was jammed into his mouth. Held in place with another bit — tied around the back.
Now everything tasted of fusty towels.
‘OK, I think it’s about time we got this party started!’ Wallace gulped down his drink and stuck the empty on the fireplace. Flexed his gloved hand as he marched across the rug and slapped Steel, hard.
Nothing.
Still unconscious.
‘Shall we try that again?’ Harder this time — the whole chair rocked with the force of it.
She surfaced, coughing and spluttering. ‘Gnnn...’ Scarlet dripped from the side of her lips.
‘Welcome back, sleepyhead! Did you have a nice snooze?’
She shook her head. Blinked. Then snarled — yanking herself back and forward against the ropes holding her to the chair. Going nowhere. ‘GRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA!’
Wallace grabbed a handful of her chiffon top. ‘You really thought you could get away with it, didn’t you? What you did to me.’ A laugh. ‘Told you one day I’d tear your little world to pieces. Well, today’s the day!’
Steel’s voice was sharp as a prison chib. ‘Get out of my sodding house!’
‘All those months, locked up with dirty paedophiles and rapists.’ He gave his mates a little salute. ‘No offence, guys.’
‘If you’ve hurt Susan...’ Steel’s eyes bugged and she struggled against the ropes again. Still nothing doing.
What they needed was a plan. Something clever. Something that ended with everyone currently tied up changing places with everyone currently not tied up. And Jack Wallace kicked in the balls three or four times.
Think.
Had to be something...
Ah ha! A plan!
Breaking the chair would do it! Break the chair and the ropes wouldn’t be tying him to anything. They’d slither right off. Wriggle his arms down over his bum and get his hands back round the front again. Leap free and... do something heroic.
Like punch Wallace in the throat. Then kick Baldy McFatface in the knee. Open-palm thrust to Vaguely-Familiar Richard’s nose — shattering it — and they were done. Shadows was too busy scowling and bleeding to put up much of a fight.
Free Steel and Susan.
Oh, Tufty you’re our hero.
Medals. A parade. And a promotion.
Yeah, definitely a plan.
Come on, Tufty: they’re all depending on you!
He took a deep breath, shrank into himself, then bounced back. Hard and fast. LIKE — A — NINJA!
The ropes creaked. The chair creaked.
Come on, damn it: break!
...
But it didn’t.
All that happened was his bitten wrist ached a bit harder.
Vaguely-Familiar Richard cuffed him over the back of the head. ‘Sit still, you wee fanny.’ He pulled out a Stanley knife and slid the blade out. Turning it under Tufty’s nose, so the edge caught the light. Gleaming and shiny. ‘Want me to start cutting bits off you? Cos I will.’
Ah... Right.
Wallace picked a book out of a leather holdall and turned back to Steel. ‘One thing you can say for prison: gives you lots of time to read.’
She stared at him. ‘If you let Susan go, we can talk about this.’
‘They had this in the prison library.’ He held it out to her for a couple of beats, then read from the cover. ‘“Take it a Mile”, subtitled, “How a Detective Inspector went from chasing serial killers to making blockbuster movies.” “A fascinating and heart-rending book...” says the Scotsman. “I can’t recommend this book highly enough.” Daily Mail. “Completely and utterly magnificent.” William Hunter.’
Steel cleared her throat. Put on that faux-reasonable voice she sometimes used to get around DCI Rutherford. ‘I mean it, Jack. Let Susan go.’
‘He was a colleague of yours, wasn’t he, this DI Insch guy? Ooh, you should see the things he says about you in here. Tsk, tsk.’
‘Susan had nothing to do with it. This is just between us.’
‘Oh! Nearly forgot: I’ve marked my favourite bit.’ A wink. ‘You’ll like this.’ He opened the book. ‘“Then Ken Wiseman said the most horrible thing I’d ever heard in my life. He was going to take my little girl, my Sophie, and sell her to paedophiles. That they would train her. That they would do whatever they liked.” Oooh...’ He shut the book. ‘That’s harsh, isn’t it?’
Baldy McFatface shuffled his feet. ‘Can we move this along, Jacky? Only I’m getting a bit... you know. Keen.’
Wallace didn’t even look at him. ‘Keep it in your pants for two minutes. We’ve plenty of time.’ He squatted down in front of Steel, looking up into her face. One hand on her knee. ‘See, thanks to you, they locked me up with all those sex offenders. And the funny thing is: paedophiles? On the whole, they’re pretty nice guys. Well, other than the shagging little kids thing. And here’s you with two beautiful baby girls.’ He let go of Steel’s knee, running his gloved finger up the inner thigh of her dungarees instead. ‘How much do you think I’ll get for them?’
Susan roared behind her gag, thumping against her ropes and chair, making it rock. The chair legs bounced and skittered off the rug and onto the floorboards.
Richard marched over and backhanded her hard enough to send the whole chair tipping over backwards. It crashed to the ground.
Susan grunted. Something splintered.
He rubbed at his knuckles. ‘And bloody stay down, you manky dyke bitch! You’ll get your turn.’
Wallace took hold of Steel’s face, turning it away from Susan and back to himself. ‘All that time you wasted chasing me. But it was never just me, was it? Nah, it’s a team sport. One of us on the pitch, the other three on the bench, being their alibi.’ He pointed at Mr Bloodstains. ‘Terry’s the one did that teacher while her kid watched. Lovely work, Terry.’
Terry scowled at Tufty, voice all wet and slurred. ‘That bastard cop knocked out half my teeth...’