again. What’s more important? Your money or…’ He picked up the bolt cutters. ‘Your fingers?’
John Wright stared at the cutters. ‘This is a joke. This is not real.’
‘It’s no joke.’
‘It’s… it’s some kind of prank. You’re a… a student. From some pressure group. You’re filming this for YouTube or something.’
‘That’s a no. To either of those things. This is, as I said, for real. This is happening to you right now. So. What will it be? Fingers or money?’
Wright said nothing.
‘This is boring, John. You need some incentive.’ The masked figure leaned forward. Hit some keys. ‘Watch the screen. See there?’ It was filled with rows and rows of numbers. ‘That’s your accounts. For every second that you take to decide, money is going out of your account. I’ve set up some random charities to be the beneficiaries. It’ll be gone and it won’t be coming back. And when it’s gone, it’s all gone. So come on, John, what’ll it be?’
John Wright watched the screen, his eyes wide with horror. He saw everything he had worked for disappear in front of him. He thought hard, mind whirring. He could let the money go. Yes. Do that. He could always make some more. Yes. That’s what he would do.
‘Oh,’ said the masked figure, as if reading his mind, ‘I should say something else. I’ve set this program not only to empty your accounts but to cancel your credit cards too. And lose your personal credit rating. And lots of other lovely things. In short, I’ve set this up to personally ruin you. Once it’s completed its run, there’ll be nothing of you left. And it’ll make you out to be too much of a financial liability to employ. Anywhere. So what’ll it be?’
Wright saw the numbers disappear off the screen, the figure flex the bolt cutters.
‘I’m not… not going to be intimidated by the likes of you.’
‘The clock’s ticking.’
The numbers seemed to be disappearing even quicker. Gone and never coming back. He felt his panic increase. If it kept going at the speed it was, he wouldn’t be able to replace it. Not as much as would be lost. Not in this lifetime. The numbers speeded up even more.
‘Fingers,’ he called out. ‘Take… take my fingers…’
He was sure that beneath the mask, the figure smiled. ‘That’s better.’
He moved over to where Denise was sitting, picked up something from the floor. A pair of her expensive silk and lace panties. Crossed back to Wright, stuffed them hard into his mouth.
‘That should stop you screaming.’ He picked up the cutters, positioned them round the little finger of Wright’s right hand. ‘One at a time, I think. Ready? Here we go.’
He brought the blades together.
19
‘W hat the hell do you think you’re doing? What are you playing at?’
Phil had just returned to the station and been informed of Sperring’s actions. He wasn’t happy. He found Sperring angrily entering the incident room and hauled him into his office, trying not to slam the door, not wanting to give the rest of the team any indication of what was happening, how angry he was.
Sperring turned to Phil, squared up to him, matched anger with anger. ‘My job. What did you think I was doing?’
‘You pull Moses Heap in without consulting me… on what? What charge, what suspicion? What have you got?’
‘Nadish pulled it together. Heap’s got previous. Threatening behaviour with a crossbow. Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’
‘And there’s only one crossbow in Birmingham, is that what you’re saying?’
‘I’m saying,’ said Sperring slowly, as if spelling it out for a retarded child, ‘that it was too much of a coincidence to miss. We had to talk to him.’
‘Yeah, I agree. We did have to talk to him. Maybe it is too much of a coincidence. But we didn’t need to pull him into the station to do it, did we? Especially not someone who’s had such a public road to Damascus conversion from gangster to good
John Wright stared at the cutters. ‘This is a joke. This is not real.’
‘It’s no joke.’
‘It’s… it’s some kind of prank. You’re a… a student. From some pressure group. You’re filming this for YouTube or something.’
‘That’s a no. To either of those things. This is, as I said, for real. This is happening to you right now. So. What will it be? Fingers or money?’
Wright said nothing.
‘This is boring, John. You need some incentive.’ The masked figure leaned forward. Hit some keys. ‘Watch the screen. See there?’ It was filled with rows and rows of numbers. ‘That’s your accounts. For every second that you take to decide, money is going out of your account. I’ve set up some random charities to be the beneficiaries. It’ll be gone and it won’t be coming back. And when it’s gone, it’s all gone. So come on, John, what’ll it be?’
John Wright watched the screen, his eyes wide with horror. He saw everything he had worked for disappear in front of him. He thought hard, mind whirring. He could let the money go. Yes. Do that. He could always make some more. Yes. That’s what he would do.
‘Oh,’ said the masked figure, as if reading his mind, ‘I should say something else. I’ve set this program not only to empty your accounts but to cancel your credit cards too. And lose your personal credit rating. And lots of other lovely things. In short, I’ve set this up to personally ruin you. Once it’s completed its run, there’ll be nothing of you left. And it’ll make you out to be too much of a financial liability to employ. Anywhere. So what’ll it be?’
Wright saw the numbers disappear off the screen, the figure flex the bolt cutters.
‘I’m not… not going to be intimidated by the likes of you.’
‘The clock’s ticking.’
The numbers seemed to be disappearing even quicker. Gone and never coming back. He felt his panic increase. If it kept going at the speed it was, he wouldn’t be able to replace it. Not as much as would be lost. Not in this lifetime. The numbers speeded up even more.
‘Fingers,’ he called out. ‘Take… take my fingers…’
He was sure that beneath the mask, the figure smiled. ‘That’s better.’
He moved over to where Denise was sitting, picked up something from the floor. A pair of her expensive silk and lace panties. Crossed back to Wright, stuffed them hard into his mouth.
‘That should stop you screaming.’ He picked up the cutters, positioned them round the little finger of Wright’s right hand. ‘One at a time, I think. Ready? Here we go.’
He brought the blades together.
19
‘W hat the hell do you think you’re doing? What are you playing at?’
Phil had just returned to the station and been informed of Sperring’s actions. He wasn’t happy. He found Sperring angrily entering the incident room and hauled him into his office, trying not to slam the door, not wanting to give the rest of the team any indication of what was happening, how angry he was.
Sperring turned to Phil, squared up to him, matched anger with anger. ‘My job. What did you think I was doing?’
‘You pull Moses Heap in without consulting me… on what? What charge, what suspicion? What have you got?’
‘Nadish pulled it together. Heap’s got previous. Threatening behaviour with a crossbow. Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’
‘And there’s only one crossbow in Birmingham, is that what you’re saying?’
‘I’m saying,’ said Sperring slowly, as if spelling it out for a retarded child, ‘that it was too much of a coincidence to miss. We had to talk to him.’
‘Yeah, I agree. We did have to talk to him. Maybe it is too much of a coincidence. But we didn’t need to pull him into the station to do it, did we? Especially not someone who’s had such a public road to Damascus conversion from gangster to good
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