IMPURITY, Ray Clark [best classic literature .txt] 📗

he’d been in the same situation. He didn’t want to end up like his friend. His guts swelled, his fear mounting. “Where am I?” he asked.

“I see you’ve found your voice at last. Such a sweet little sound, don’t you think, Alfred? You don’t need to know just yet. Not that it would make much difference. You couldn’t do anything about it.”

Chris wrinkled his nose. He could smell stale cigar smoke on the little man’s clothes, and on his breath. He turned his head away from them. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

“I have no wish to.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I want you here. For now.”

Chris turned on his captors. “Why? When my dad finds out, you’re in for it. He’ll sort you out, both of you. He’s a cop.”

The thought of his father brought a tear to his eye and a lump to his throat. He remembered their recent argument and the things that had been said. He’d made his point, but he didn’t feel any better about it now. He couldn’t understand why he’d done it.

“It’s taken you a while to mention your dad, hasn’t it? I must admit, I wondered when you would. It may come as a shock to you, but I know your father.”

It did come as a shock to Chris. If the little man knew his dad, then why hadn’t they met before? That meant he had a record. It was a thought that terrified Chris. One that regurgitated the memory of his friend David. He felt pressure on his bladder.

“Well, if you do know my dad like you say, then you’ll know what a mistake it is trying to keep me here.” Chris’s bravado made him feel a little better.

“You’re sure about that, are you?”

“Too right, I am. When he finds out I’m here, you’ve had it!”

The little man laughed. “Oh, I doubt it.”

Adrenaline replaced Chris’s fear. “And if the Irishman gets you, you’ll wish you were dead.”

The little man addressed the butler. “Quite the little dreamer, isn’t he, Alfred? If only his father were as good as Christopher thinks he is.”

When the little man turned back to Chris, he noticed the immediate change of expression. The little man’s eyes were like black marbles, and his smile was more a leer, not friendly as it had been so far.

Chris panicked. He’d overstepped the mark. Him and his big mouth. He wished he hadn’t spoken. His bladder reached the bursting point. He didn’t want to soil himself, but at the same time, he didn’t think he’d be allowed to run to the bathroom without it appearing like he was trying to run away.

“Now you listen to me, young man. Your father isn’t going to find you. He hasn’t found the others, has he? Or who’s responsible. Nor has he found their killer.”

Chris’s eyes opened so wide, he thought they were going to pop out and roll down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe how cold eyes became when the eyelids were at their widest aperture.

What did he mean by ‘the others’?

“As a policeman, your father has had his day. He’s finished.”

Chris’s bottom lip trembled. He could feel the awful tightening of his throat, like when he was going to be sick. He hoped he wouldn’t be. He knew the little man wouldn’t be pleased.

He approached Chris and leaned down into his face. “If your father had been any good, he’d have saved your mother.”

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that!” Chris sprang up at such a pace, he launched the breakfast tray into the air. The crockery crashed against the wall, leaving a trail of soggy Weetabix slithering down to the skirting. The butler had taken a step back, nearly losing his balance. The little man was far more agile.

When Chris was on his feet, he had no idea what to do with his short-lived advantage. He saw a raised arm, felt the stinging blow to his cheek. He spun round and hit the bed, holding his face, sobbing. The little man gave him no time to recover, twisting Chris onto his back, and grabbing him by the throat to pin him to the bed.

“You’re going to be sorry, young man. By God, you’re going to be sorry. You see, I’ve now decided that your father is going to come here, because it’s exactly where I want him. I’m going to make him sorry for meddling in my affairs. The pair of you have made me very angry. I’m going to see you pay.”

Hot, steaming urine flooded Chris’s pants.

“He’ll be forced to watch what I do to you. Can you imagine how humiliating that’s going to be? It’ll probably kill him. Which will save me the job.”

The little man turned and left the room. The butler followed, locking the door behind him.

Chris buried his face in his hands, crying, and silently pleading for his dad to help.

Chapter Sixty-nine

“Derek Summers, I’m arresting you under the Obscene Publications Act of 1964.” Briggs glared at Summers with contempt. “You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

Briggs glanced at Reilly. “Take him away.”

Summers stood up from behind his desk, staring at his butler. “Alfred, phone Frederick. Tell him to meet me at the station.”

He turned to Briggs. “When my solicitor’s finished, you’ll realize you’re making a big mistake.”

Briggs ignored Summers as Reilly marched him out to the car. He turned to the other officers present in the room. “Search this place from top to bottom.”

Chapter Seventy

“Gentlemen, I feel it’s time to intervene on my client’s behalf.”

Reilly shot a disapproving glance at Frederick Dawson. It wasn’t the interruption, but the fact