‘I need to go out,’ she said after a brief and hushed exchange. A hint of disappointment came into her mother’s expression. ‘I’ll be back shortly,’ Sasha added, before rushing from the room. ‘I promise!’
One week. That’s how long Titus Savage had asked his son to walk to and from school unaccompanied. Ivan didn’t usually mind travelling alone. With no friends, he was used to sitting on the bus or trudging along the pavement with his thoughts, but this was different. Some creep was out there stalking him.
‘It’s not you he’s interested in,’ his father kept assuring him. ‘I’m his man.’
‘But what if you’re wrong?’
‘I’ll be watching every step you make,’ said Titus. ‘All you have to do is trust me.’
Ivan had every faith in his father. He’d never let him down before. Even so, the boy took steps to protect himself. He didn’t like feeling threatened and though Titus swore he was close by, just waiting for their man, the boy still felt vulnerable. Such lack of control left him tense and edgy. Not once did he see the van in question, but that just made him more anxious. Back home, Ivan would fire up his war videogame and attempt to regain some sense of control by going on a virtual rampage. Even that didn’t stop the bad dreams. Slowly, his stalker invaded every aspect of his existence. On the final day of that week, when a figure stepped out from behind some bushes in the park, Ivan immediately moved to defend himself.
‘It’s me,’ said Titus, and promptly threw himself to one side as a dart-like electrode whizzed past his shoulder. ‘Hold your fire, Ivan! Put the Taser away!’
The boy had pulled the weapon without warning. It belonged to his father, who had only ever used it once to disable a victim before bundling him into the boot of the car. The Taser was effective at delivering a soul-sapping electric shock. Titus had picked it up from a security outfit he had stripped down and sold off. He had kept it hoping to keep up with the times, only to find he preferred a more traditional means of incapacitation.
‘You scared me,’ said Ivan, who began to reel in the dart by the wire that attached it to the weapon.
Titus looked one way and then other. They were in view of the playground. Fortunately, none of the parents and their children had noticed.
‘What were you thinking?’ he hissed, and retrieved the dart for him. ‘The hatch in the shed floor is sealed for good reason. We only break it before a feast.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Ivan had crouched to finish winding in the wire. He looked up at his father and blinked back tears. ‘I don’t want to be bait any more.’
Titus considered his son for a moment. Then he offered the boy his hand to help him back onto his feet.
‘We’ll find him,’ he promised. ‘Now put the Taser back in your bag and let’s go home.’
‘Good idea,’ said Ivan, and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his school jacket. ‘Will there be anything to eat when we get back?’
Titus smiled.
‘I’m hungry, too,’ he said. ‘It’s always the way before a feast. Your grandfather believes our body metabolism has learned to accelerate beforehand. He’s convinced we burn off excessive fat storage to make room for the flesh that follows.’
‘I feel it.’ Ivan placed a hand upon his belly. ‘It’s an ache that won’t go away. A cramp sometimes, too.’
Together, Titus and Ivan continued along the path. Titus placed his arm between his son’s shoulder blades, both to steer him in the right direction and offer him a sense of protection. They chatted as they walked. Titus talked about spending more time together. He was tiring of the City, so he said. There was nothing wrong with hard work, but if it ceased to be rewarding then it was time to seek out fresh challenges. As they made their way to the park gates, and then up the street towards home, Titus had convinced himself that it was something to discuss with Angelica. He was also well aware that the next feast couldn’t come soon enough. As ever, it would revive his spirits and help him to forge a way forward that put the family first. Seeing the grocery delivery van outside the house, however, left Titus with mixed feelings. His dear wife always worked so hard to put on a memorable spread, but by now he’d hoped to have taken care of the central ingredient.
‘The perishables have arrived,’ observed Titus, just a moment before a figure emerged from the driveway and climbed in through the side of the van.
At once, and without further word, both father and son stopped in their tracks.
Vernon English had waited several days for this moment. Loitering in the park, with the Savage house in view, he had tried his best not to invite suspicion. He pretended to read the paper on several benches, or simply pressed his mobile to his ear and had a long conversation with the imaginary person on the other end. Vernon was feeding the ducks when the grocery van trundled into view. Emptying his pockets of the remaining bread, he placed one hand on his cap to stop it from blowing free and broke into a brisk trot. It was only as he approached the vehicle that he slowed right down. He could hear the driver in the back, sorting out the delivery. Looking around to be sure he wasn’t being watched, Vernon side-stepped into a neighbouring drive and stood quietly beside a bin. He only wanted a moment inside the van. He knew exactly where to look to find the delivery checklist, having observed several drop-offs outside his own block that week.
‘Come on, fella,’ he muttered. ‘Do your thing.’
Vernon levered down a branch in the bush that hid him from view. He could see the driver at work, pulling the family’s order from cold-store compartments. Finally, the guy stepped down onto the pavement and stacked three baskets onto a porter’s trolley. Vernon braced himself to make his move. As soon as the man set off for the house, he headed straight for the van and jumped in without using the step.
The clipboard was hanging from a hook by a loop of string. The Savage address was printed in the upper corner of the top sheet. Vernon snatched it free and scanned the list underneath.
‘OK, what have we got?’ It was just a hunch after years in the profession, but something told the private investigator that the key to unlocking the secret about the Savages had to be right here. His eyes dropped from one food item on the list to the next, and again on the other side of the sheet. Finally, he looked up and searched his mind. There was enough stuff here for a banquet, some kind of roast that would befit a royal, but one thing was missing. It was a glaring omission. Without it, this blow-out would be incomplete. Vernon looked up with just one question on his mind. ‘Where’s the meat?’
The response, as such, came in the shape of a dart to Vernon’s left buttock. He barely felt it puncture his trousers and skin, largely on account of the fifty-thousand volt shock it delivered to every fibre of his body. Vernon didn’t make a sound, having momentarily swallowed his tongue. He simply snapped upright in pain, his eyes bulging, and then sheer surprise when the convulsions stopped and a hand appeared from behind him clasping a silk neckerchief. It was doused in a sweet-smelling chemical, he realised, on finding it clamped to his mouth. A second later, overcome by chloroform fumes, the private investigator slumped back into the arms of his assailant.
THIRD COURSE
27
Sasha Savage paused outside the café. She was nervous about the conversation that was about to take place. It wasn’t something she had expected, but as soon as she heard his voice on the phone it felt like the right thing to do. Taking a breath, she pushed open the door. There he was, rising from the table on seeing her.