God, please help me. He couldn’t tell him. How could he? The mad bastard would bloody well kill him. ‘I don’t know,’ he whimpered, blinking hard as the ground loomed up towards him. ‘I swear to God I don’t.’
He heard Cole draw in a ragged breath. Paul had no idea how he was breathing at all. Gulping hard, he waited. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t stand a chance of getting away with it. And then getting out of the building unnoticed, if he did. Would he?
After a second, Cole relaxed, just fractionally, the arm he had locked across his back, to Paul’s huge relief. He hadn’t thought he would. He was bluffing. And Paul had called his bluff.
‘So now what are you going to do?’ he asked him, his voice shaky, despite his attempt at bravado. ‘Electrodes? Pull my fingernails—’
He stopped, emitting something between a squeak and a scream as Cole’s arm snaked its way around his throat.
‘Shhh,’ he whispered, pressing a cold syringe to the side of his neck. ‘You wouldn’t want to attract any attention, would you, Radley? Because if you do, I may be forced to drop you after all, and that really would be very messy.’
Paul’s eyes bulged as the man tightened his hold.
‘Do you believe in karma, Radley?’ he asked him, talking almost companionably, to Paul’s disbelief. ‘You should.’ He squeezed still tighter. ‘Because I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to do to you exactly what you did to my wife. I imagine you have one or two kitchen implements that might serve my purpose. Or something from the bathroom, maybe? It will hurt, but then pain turns you on, doesn’t it, you sick, sad bastard.’
He let it hang, leaving Paul with a graphic image and his insides turning to liquid jelly.
‘If I find you’ve hurt my daughter, in any way,’ Cole growled, ‘the pain is going to be so, so much worse. Last time, you fucker, where is she?’
‘I don’t know,’ Paul cried. ‘I swear—’ He stopped, terror gripping him as Cole pressed the syringe closer. ‘Don’t,’ he rasped, clamping his eyes shut.
Cole didn’t answer, breathing slowly and heavily instead, like some lunatic psychopath.
He was insane, Paul realised, knowing with certainty that if he did tell him, the chances of the madman not doing him permanent damage were nil. ‘What are you going to inject me with?’ he croaked, perspiration popping out on his forehead.
‘Just ketamine, Paul,’ Cole said matter-of-factly. ‘Nothing harmful. Just enough to render you incapable. You know, unable to speak, move or control your own body? Powerless, Paul. As in, unable to fight back. I take it you’re getting my drift here?’
‘Please, don’t…’ Paul’s voice came out a hoarse whisper.
Cole, though, just tightened his grip.
Seventy-Two
ALICIA
Waiting in the foyer for the security guard to ring up and announce her arrival, Alicia felt every hair on her body rise with repulsion. She was nauseated at even the thought of being near him, the look of calculated triumph she would see in his eyes, the cloying, too spicy, alcohol-soaked smell of him. A cold knot of fear gripped her stomach, twisting her insides so tight she couldn’t breathe, as she imagined what he might have done to her daughter. That’s what was forcing her to stand there on legs she thought might fail her. That’s what was compelling her to go up to his apartment, to beg him, plead with him, do whatever she had to do to get him to let her go.
‘He’s still not answering,’ the man said, having tried him for a second time.
‘Did you see him go out?’ Alicia asked, feeling more desperate by the second. Was he playing some sick, twisted control game, she wondered, her fear for Sophie intensifying as she realised that was very probably what he was doing: teaching her a lesson for being sloppily unpunctual. Like a child amusing himself by pulling legs from a spider one by one, until it had no ability to run, he’d played games with her from day one. How had he enticed Sophie? What sordid game might he have lured her into? Had she gone willingly?
The security guard frowned uncertainly. ‘Come to think of it, no. Mind you, there was a right kerfuffle here earlier. Umpteen bloody pizza delivery men trying to deliver pizzas to non-existent residents.’ He sighed despairingly. ‘Hold on a sec. I’ll see if his car’s still in the car park.’
He turned to his monitors. ‘Useless twits,’ he muttered. ‘Call themselves security systems experts. If the circuit breakers don’t need replacing, there’s a bloody power outage. Could have done a better job myself.’ Finally, he banged one of the blank monitors, which flickered uncooperatively and then sparked into life, giving a visual of the car park. ‘Yup.’ The man squinted at it, apparently identifying Paul Radley’s car. ‘His car’s definitely here, at least.’
Staring at the monitor behind him, Alicia’s heart froze. Realisation hitting her with the full force of the impact that had occurred on the darkest day of her life, she gripped the reception desk hard. ‘I didn’t know he had a new car.’ She forced the words out lightly.
The security guard glanced back at her. ‘That’s his usual car. He’s been driving a rental while it’s been in the workshop. Prefers his Discovery though, he said. Personally, I prefer the Range Rover Evoque. Production’s slowing off a bit now though, apparently, to make way for the new model.’ He twirled back towards her, obviously on a roll on the subject of cars. ‘It’s a shame. I reckon the Evoque’s more reliable. Mine’s never been in the workshop yet. Then again, you won’t catch me driving like a madman. Treat your car with a bit of respect and she’ll run as sweet as a nut, that’s what I told him.’
‘He does tend to hare around, doesn’t he?’ Alicia’s smile was too bright, her voice tight. ‘He’s a bit of a stickler for punctuality.’
‘Better to arrive safe than not to arrive at all, that’s my motto.’ The security guard sighed piously.
‘A man after my own heart.’ Alicia nodded in agreement and tried to keep breathing. ‘He’s probably in the shower,’ she said, desperate now to get past him. ‘He takes ages in the bathroom. Fastidiousness is in his nature, I’m afraid.’
‘Tell me about it. He had a go at me for there being dust on the reception desk the other morning, like there wouldn’t be, with builders all over the place. I mean, do I look like the cleaner? I wonder why I stick this job sometimes, honestly.’
‘That sounds like Paul.’ Alicia laughed. ‘Sorry about that. I’m trying to train him out of it. Do you mind if I go on up?’
Narrowing his eyes, the man looked her over. ‘Go on then,’ he said, his face creasing into a smile as he nodded her towards the lift. ‘Good luck with that training.’
‘Thanks.’ Alicia waved behind her as she walked away. Then she fixed her gaze forwards, hatred for Paul Radley coursing through every vein in her body as she headed determinedly for the fifteenth floor.
Seventy-Three
JUSTIN
‘Don’t!’ Radley pleaded, as Justin allowed the sharp point of the needle to pierce his flesh. ‘Please. Stop. I’m begging you. You’ll kill me.’
Not yet, you bastard. That would be way too merciful. ‘When you’ve told me what you need to, Radley, then I’ll consider it,’ Justin said tightly. ‘Possibly.’
‘Oh, sweet fucking Jesus.’ Radley squeezed his eyes shut. ‘You really are mad.’
‘As a hatter,’ Justin assured him. ‘The opiates I’ve been taking after someone attempted to have me knifed to death won’t help my state of mind, of course. They tend to affect my concentration, I find. It’s probably best not to struggle while I’m holding a syringe next to your jugular.’
‘I don’t know where she is!’ Radley repeated the same bullshit he’d already spouted. ‘How can I tell you something I don’t know?’
‘Wrong answer, you piece of shit. I’m running out of patience. And you’re about to run out of time.’
‘For God’s sake!’ Radley screamed, as Justin tensed his thumb against the plunger. ‘Wait!’