Version Thirteen by Martin Baker

Author:Martin Baker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781783520008
Publisher: Unbound
Published: 2013-12-09T00:22:37+00:00

blandford quickly worked out that his captor was a steroid-fed moron – Blandford didn’t know much about these things, but he could tell that Vladimir was definitely not a normal human being in any significant sense. The cretin clearly couldn’t understand most of what Blandford was saying.

The prospect of death lent Blandford’s thinking a marvellous clarity. There was a kind of serenity about it all. The coming pain would be no more than a distraction. He was ready.

But there was one thing he could do. Samuel didn’t deserve to suffer the same fate. The brute would eventually discover that, bar bills and phone calls notwithstanding, Blandford really wasn’t Spendlove. Blandford had confessed several times to the camera – yes he’d killed the boy, and why. Vladimir’s English was limited. Blandford was pretty sure that he didn’t understand what he’d said. But sooner or later, someone would see that Blandford had squared the circle: he’d killed the man who’d effectively taken his daughter’s life.

But all this was an unimaginable subtlety to Vladimir. He began to amuse himself by pouring a little of the sulphuric acid into a small beaker and burning Blandford’s hands. The pain was excruciating.

This was thirsty work, and his captor was now searching for another beer can.

But the restraints had also been burned by the acid. Blandford pushed hard. It was difficult to get leverage with his arm strapped to his body. Vladimir would be back any second. The door banged open, just as Blandford managed to free his left hand.

Vladimir walked up to his prisoner, smirked and turned away.

The small beaker of acid was just within Blandford’s grasp. He reached out and took it, trying not to look at the ravages wrought by the acid on his own flesh. He held the beaker behind his back and waited for his captor to drink his beer and get on with round two of whatever it was he had planned.

Vladimir tossed back his beer can, wiping foam from his mouth with the back of a stinking hand. He approached Blandford again, and put his face up close. The combination of halitosis, beer, sweat and sickly deodorant was masked a little by the smell of his own seared flesh.

‘OK, nice-hair man. Now we have fun, real fun.’

Vladimir checked that the camera was running, and went to light the blowtorch. He stood a couple of metres away as he did so. Just a bit too far away.

‘Hey!’ called Blandford.

Vladimir laughed.

‘No good, brave man. No good. Vladimir have fun now. Nothing you say good. Not money. Not nothing. Just fun for Vladimir.’

He turned the flame to a cruel spike of blue and red.

‘But I never told you the most important thing. The most important thing of all, the thing you must know. If you want the real truth about Shamil,’ said Blandford.

‘What must know?’

‘Must know. Shamil. I whisper the secret. Not for the camera, OK?’ Blandford lowered his voice. ‘I whisper the secret.’

Vladimir laughed and shrugged in an almost childish way.

‘Secret? You tell Vladimir secret?’

Vladimir approached and bent his head in close.

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