Through a window, she sees a young blonde man in a red T-shirt pull a thick rope back down onto the decking. The craft’s noisy engine coughs into life. The floor vibrates and the Targa pulls out into the choppy grey river.
A good-looking man with trimmed beard and long black hair comes into the cabin and sits on the bench opposite. He unfastens the jacket of his shiny blue suit and smiles at her. ‘Welcome on board, Mrs Fallon.’ He stretches his hand out and rips the silver necklace from around her neck. ‘A woman like you shouldn’t wear such cheap jewellery. Earrings too. Glad I didn’t miss those.’ He grabs both studs and forces them out.
Mitzi yelps as her flesh tears.
Marchetti grabs her wrist and unfastens her watch. He opens the back door of the boat and throws everything into the inky water. ‘That’s better.’
He returns to the bench and looks towards his men. ‘Someone give me a blade.’
Mitzi watches one of the thugs produce a knife for gutting fish.
Marchetti takes it and nods towards the brunette. ‘My friend here tells me you’ve swallowed the digital files. So why don’t I just use this lovely piece of steel, cut you up like a tuna and take it out your guts?’
Mitzi doesn’t flinch. ‘Because of the mights.’
He screws up his eyes. ‘The what?’
‘I might be telling the truth and might have swallowed it. Or, I might have stored it or mailed it somewhere. Kill me and you’ve only got a fifty per cent chance of being right. Release Amber, let her get treatment at a hospital, and I promise I’ll tell you the truth.’
‘You promise.’ He laughs, then lunges forward and stabs the tip of the blade under her right collarbone.
This time she can’t hold the scream back.
Marchetti keeps the steel wedged there. Far enough in to cause excruciating pain but not so deep as to start a fatal bleed. ‘Give me the stick!’
Shock hammers her chest.
‘Give it me!’
She stares through him.
Marchetti pulls back the blade and punches her face.
Mitzi feels her already damaged nose break again. Blood rushes through her nostrils. Lightning flashes in her head. The boat lurches to the right and she doesn’t have the strength to stop herself falling to the floor.
The boards smell of teak oil and soap. That’s the last thing she remembers before she blacks out.
PART FOUR
143
As the waves of unconsciousness ebb away Mitzi feels a burn in her right shoulder where she’d been stabbed. Any deeper and she’d have bled out. There’s a dull pulse in the centre of her face where her nose has been re-broken. But it doesn’t feel as agonizing as it should. She guesses they’ve given her a shot of something.
Even without opening her eyes, she knows her hands are tied behind her back and she’s sat upright on a hard metal chair, the kind that folds up and can be easily moved. Her ankles have been bound and the lack of sway means she’s no longer on the boat. She guesses the shot was a sedative that kept her quiet while they moved her from the river.
In the blackness beyond her closed eyes, she hears a woman cough. It’s probably the brunette and there’s no doubt at least one man with her as well.
She smells fresh cigarette smoke and sawdust. The air on her face is cool but not cold. From the way sounds come and go, she believes she’s in a medium-sized room rather than a big open space like a warehouse.
‘You want tea?’ asks the woman.
A man answers. ‘Yeah, if you’re making.’
Heels clack across bare boards. Tap water spurts then pounds the metal of a kettle. An electric switch clicks. Mitzi guesses they’re in a private house, office or apartment that is still being built, decorated or renovated.
‘No milk, that okay?’
‘You got sugar?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then three sugars to make up for it being black.’
Mitzi keeps her eyes closed and counts her blessings. They haven’t killed her. Her daughters must still be alive. She’s still figuring out the significance of them moving her, when she hears a door click open and a man speak. ‘She should be awake by now.’
The voice is that of the man with the knife. Mitzi hears him walk towards her. She braces herself.
He puts a hand across her mouth and pinches her nose to block off the airway.
She splutters for breath and finally opens her eyes.
Marchetti squats so he is on her level. ‘Hello again.’
Mitzi looks beyond him. The room is an apartment; she was right about that. The lights are on, meaning it’s night-time. The place has been freshly plastered. There are dust covers everywhere. Sawn floorboards. Tins of emulsion and gloss paint are stacked in a corner.
‘Any idea what this is?’ Marchetti holds a black baton-like object in his hand.
She focuses on it. ‘A metal detector.’
‘Clever girl.’ He steps back. ‘Get her up.’ He hands the security wand to the brunette. ‘Check her out.’
The muscular guy pulls Mitzi off the chair. ‘Spread your legs.’ He laughs. ‘I bet it’s a while since someone said that to you.’
‘Get on with it,’ shouts Marchetti.
The brunette turns on the scanner and runs it up the inside of Mitzi’s legs.
‘Her stomach,’ booms Marchetti. ‘For God’s sake, it’s going to be in her stomach or bowels, not her thighs.’
The woman reddens and switches the paddle to the torso. She moves it slowly and gets a beep off Mitzi’s belt. The muscle unfastens it and pulls it from the loops around her slacks. He unclips the top stud, pulls down the zip and rips open her shirt. The brunette moves the paddle over bare flesh and down to one side, where she gets another beep.
‘Well, well, well.’ Marchetti sounds pleased. ‘Seems you might be telling the truth after all.’ He turns to the muscle. ‘Sit her back down.’
Mitzi watches him walk out of her line of sight. ‘Like I said, release Amber and I won’t leave you in any doubt about whether what’s in my guts is what you want, or just a blank stick.’
‘Clever,’ he shouts. ‘It buys you a little more time because you know I have to check it and therefore I won’t just slice you open.’ She hears him running water, then he appears with a mug and passes it to the brunette. ‘Hold this until I’m ready.’ He pulls open a box of tablets, tosses the cardboard and pops out all the pills from the two metal foils. His eyes light up as he looks at Mitzi. ‘This is going to be messy.’ He grabs her hair and pulls her head back. ‘Open your mouth.’
She keeps it closed.
He chops his fist on her broken nose.
Mitzi screams in pain.
Marchetti forces the laxatives through her teeth and keeps her head tilted back. ‘Water!’
The brunette pours the contents of the mug into her mouth. Mitzi gags. Tries to spit the tablets out.
Marchetti holds his hand over her mouth until she swallows. Mitzi hangs her head forward and wheezes for breath. Marchetti yanks her head back again and forces another handful of tablets over her tongue. This time she doesn’t have the air or willpower to fight. As soon as the water hits her lips, she starts to swallow.
He wipes his wet hand on her and walks away. As he reaches the door, he calls back to his minions. ‘Put her in the closet so she doesn’t make too much mess.’
144
The laptop on George Dalton’s knees shows video feeds from the helmet cameras of the armed response units on the barge on the Thames.