09 For Any Other Truth by Denzil Meyrick

Author:Denzil Meyrick
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Polygon
Published: 2021-06-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

Terry was sitting forward on a chair, his head pounding. The stocky man with the lined face was berating someone on a mobile phone. A motionless figure still lay on the floor in the dim light of the shuttered room. Through his throbbing head and queasy stomach, the after-effects of the drug he’d been given, Terry realised they were in some kind of run-down bar. The place stank of stale alcohol, though the gantry seemed well stocked.

‘If you wanted a babysitter you should have found someone more suited to the task!’ The man listened for a few more moments before ending the call unceremoniously and turning to Terry. ‘Where is it you’re from, young man?’

‘Originally from Coleraine, but we moved to Ballycastle a while ago.’

‘You’ll be wishing you stayed put by the time we’re finished with you,’ said a tall man with a bruise over one eye. ‘Eh, Sean?’ He then nudged a younger man beside him, and the pair started laughing.

Sean walked across to them. ‘Why are you fucking giggling like a pair o’ wee lassies, eh? This is all your fault!’ He was right in the face of the taller man now, making him take a step back. ‘Fergal, come here and give me a hand with the auld fella. We need to get out of here.’

The three men walked over to where Hamish lay, unconscious. Terry tried to discern any kind of movement that would indicate breathing, but peering through the gloom, the old fisherman he’d failed to rescue showed no sign of life.

‘Hamish, what about you?’ Sean leaned over the old man, shaking him gently by the shoulder in an effort to wake him.

‘I think the auld boy’s had it, so he has,’ said Fergal. ‘In a way it’s a blessing, for that’s where he was going anyway.’

Ignoring him, Sean held two fingers against Hamish’s neck. ‘He’s got a pulse.’ He looked up. ‘For your information, that means he’s not dead. Now shut the fuck up!’ Sean stroked his chin for a few moments. ‘Right, bring the van round to the back door. We’ll get them in there.’

‘What are you going to do with us?’ Terry asked through his pain.

‘Never you mind, superboy. Sure, you’re the last person I’d want tae rescue me, you idiot.’ He turned to his companions. ‘Well, what are yous waiting for, fucking New Year?’

The men hurried off. Briefly, a bright shaft of sunlight shone through an open fire door before it was slammed shut.

Though Terry had never been a rough and tumble type of lad, he realised that both he and Hamish were in real danger. Whoever these men were – whoever the woman who’d abducted him the previous evening was – it was clear they intended harm to both him and the old man.

When he’d been ushered to the chair by the youngest of his captors, he’d noticed a black glass ashtray on the table in front of him. As the men were busy fussing over Hamish, he’d pulled the ashtray towards him.

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