Thirty-Six
It wasn’t as if you could ever have described any of the more recent conversations between Jacqui and Wayne Cutler as ‘sparkling’.
Not unless that word now encompassed the kind of industrial language that made Gordon Ramsay sound like Mary Berry.
There had been conversations, though – only over the phone, because Jacqui had never visited – and for all the rancour and nastiness with which they were always suffused, there had rarely been a silence as long or heavy as this one.
Half a minute and counting.
Jacqui might have thought Wayne had hung up, were it not for the echoing shouts and clanging doors in the background.
‘What did you do?’ he said, eventually.
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
For reasons that she did not want to dwell on for very long, Jacqui found herself thinking about Richard. She pushed the thoughts away. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well, you’ve upset someone, haven’t you? It’s obvious.’
‘Me?’
‘Yeah, so now someone’s thinking you need taking down a peg or two and our son’s paying the price.’
At any other time, Jacqui might have called her ex-husband something unmentionable and slammed the phone down, but these were unusual circumstances, so she just laughed. ‘You don’t think it’s more likely to be someone you’ve upset?’
‘No chance.’
‘You’ve always had an unfortunate habit of rubbing people up the wrong way. You did it to me often enough.’
‘Are you going to mention that effing Creme Egg again?’
‘No, because now isn’t the time. I’m just saying, there’s every chance it’s someone you’ve pissed off in there.’
‘There isn’t anyone who’s got the bottle,’ Wayne said. ‘Everyone in here knows I’m not someone to be messed with.’
‘Well, someone’s messing with both of us.’ Because Wayne was the last person in the world she would want to hear her sounding weak, Jacqui had been trying her hardest to hold it together, but now her voice broke. ‘Taking our boy.’
Wayne sniffed, like he might have been struggling to hold it together himself. ‘It’s going to be OK, Jax.’
‘We need to be united on this,’ Jacqui said. ‘A team, the way we used to be. Because whatever else has gone on, Justin’s the only thing that matters.’
‘Course he is,’ Wayne said. ‘And look … I know Miller’s pretty good, but just in case it’s too much for him, I’m going to make a few enquiries myself, from in here. I’ve got friends who’ve got friends.’
‘Don’t do anything stupid, Wayne.’
‘I promise,’ Wayne said.
‘We need to let the police handle it, but without whoever’s got Justin knowing they’re doing it.’
‘Understood.’
‘As long as we’re on the same page.’
‘I will kill him, though. Whoever’s taken Justin.’
‘I know you will.’ Jacqui said it with immense tenderness, as though responding to a declaration of everlasting love.
‘Once he’s been caught and banged up, obviously. Doesn’t matter where he’s put, either. I’ve got people in here who’ve got mates in every prison in the country.’
‘You were always a good networker.’
‘Thanks, Jax. I appreciate that.’
‘Stupid, isn’t it? That it takes something terrible like this to make us start being nice to each other again.’
‘Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far,’ Wayne said. ‘I still think you’re a traitorous bitch, and the next time I throw something at you it won’t be sodding chocolate.’
‘I suppose that’s fair enough.’
There was another silence, though this one was a little shorter. ‘I meant what I said, about killing him. You OK with that?’
‘Oh, one hundred per cent,’ Jacqui said. ‘And when the time comes, make sure it’s something painful.’
As soon as the camera was set up and the tape had been removed from his mouth, the young man drank enthusiastically from the bottle of water he was offered. He said ‘Thank you’, then squinted at the first message being held up for him to read out loud.
‘Hiya, Mum. Just so you know, I’m OK, and all things considered I’m being treated pretty well.
So there’s no need to worry.’ He waited for the piece of paper to be discarded and replaced.
‘I know there’s a few bruises, but don’t panic, because I won’t get hurt again as long as you do what they want you to do. ’
He waited again, a little longer this time, because the sheet of paper was fumbled and had to be picked up from the floor.
‘Just remember, no police and there will be no problem, and I’ll be back with you very soon if you follow instr—’ He stopped, and looked beyond the camera to the man in the balaclava behind it. ‘You’ve spelled instructions wrong,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Instruc-shuns. You’ve spelled it how it sounds instead of—’
‘I’m dyslexic,’ the man said.
‘Oh, right.’
‘So don’t take the mickey.’
‘I wasn’t. I was just pointing out that—’
‘Can we get on with it?’
‘Of course, yeah. I’m sorry.’
‘Go from the start of the last sheet …’
He took a deep breath and asked for another slug of water.
Once it had been supplied and the man was back behind the camera, the recording recommenced.
‘Just remember, no police and there will be no problem, and I’ll be back with you very soon if you follow …
ah!’ He stopped again and shook his head.
‘What now?’
‘You’ve put in an apostrophe, which it doesn’t need. Instructions is just the plural of instruction, so—’
‘Right, I’ve had just about enough of this.’ The man in the balaclava stepped from behind the tripod on which the phone was mounted and walked slowly towards the young man handcuffed to the chair.
Sensing that his existing bruises were about to be added to, the hostage turned his head away and shouted, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry … I promise I won’t say anything else. Well … just the things you want me to say, obviously.’
‘You promise? Because I haven’t got all bloody day.’
‘I swear.’
‘Right.’ The man trudged back to the camera and made a few adjustments. ‘Let’s take the whole thing from the top and try to get through to the end.’
Which they very nearly did.
It was all going very well – spelling errors and grammatical mistakes notwithstanding – until what was undoubtedly the most important bit of the entire video. The demands.
‘So, Mum … here’s the thing. If you want to see me again in one piece, as opposed to several much smaller pieces, you need to …’ The young man stopped again and shook his head. ‘Hang on. I don’t want to say that.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’m not saying that. What you’ve written on there.’
‘Oh, you’re not?’ The man in the balaclava let the sheet of paper float towards the floor and began marching towards the hostage again, looking even more menacing than he had a few minutes earlier.
This time, Justin Cutler did not turn his head away. ‘You can do what you like. I really don’t give a monkey’s. I simply refuse to say that.’