Fatal Page 6

  Nico watched Franny evenly. He’d forgotten how much like an Italian goddess she looked, but that didn’t stop him having an aversion to her. Mouthy broads who thought they were men, in his experience, always came to a very bad end.

  ‘About two and a half million dollars.’

  Franny nodded calmly, rivalling the outwardly composed Nico. ‘Which is about one point eight million pounds, but as a goodwill gesture, to show there’s no hard feelings between us, I’m willing to give you two million in British sterling, that’s as long as we can draw a line under it all.’

  Nico Russo chewed down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood, his expression once again not giving away any kind of emotion as he turned to Cabhan. ‘You let women do men’s business now?’

  ‘It’s not for me to let her, Franny does what she wants. She is her own woman and her own boss.’

  ‘Then it’s a shame it wasn’t Franny who came to work for us instead of you. It seems like she’s the one with the balls. Tell me something, Franny, where did you get the money from?’

  Franny gave a smile, pushing Alfie out from the back of her mind, focusing only on the matter at hand. ‘Nico, I get my money from the same place you do.’

  Nico smiled back, genuine amusement in his eye. He put his hand out for Franny to shake.

  ‘Okay, Franny, it seems we have a deal.’

  Franny held Nico’s hand as well as his stare just as hard, the Doyle strength pushing through. ‘And you’ll speak to the rest of the family about Cabhan coming home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So that’s it, we’re even?’

  Nico nodded and smiled.

  When Franny and Cabhan had left the visitors’ room, Salvatore turned to Nico.

  ‘I’ll arrange for her to transfer the money today to one of our accounts in India, and then it’s done.’

  Nico’s eyes turned dark and cold. ‘No, Salvatore, it’s only just beginning. Never forget that in life there’s always somebody to blame and there’s always a way to get revenge … An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth … a daughter for a daughter. Let’s go and wish Cabhan a happy birthday with the sweet Alice Rose.’

  11

  Alice walked along with Sister Margaret, hardly able to contain herself. She’d spoken to Nico again and everything seemed to be under way. He’d been amazing, kind and caring, so in return what she’d done was make certain she’d said a prayer of thanks each morning in chapel for him. After all, she didn’t want to take for granted any of the angels sent her way.

  The party was all set for Saturday and she had a feeling it was going to be just perfect. She couldn’t wait to see her dad’s face. She loved him so much at times she thought she was going to burst.

  ‘You seem distracted, Alice.’

  ‘No, I’m just thinking, Sister Margaret.’

  ‘Well, I hope your thoughts are full of godliness, Alice, rather than temptation. You know, every temptation is an opportunity to prove the Devil wrong, Alice Rose.’

  Alice smiled warmly. ‘Of course, Sister Margaret.’

  ‘You know, if there is anything you want to tell me, you can. I don’t …’

  Wanting to say more but hearing the front gate bell ring, Sister Margaret turned to walk down the tree-lined driveway. She raised her hand to the waiting car.

  ‘I’m coming … I’ll be back in a minute Al—’

  As she spoke, Alice suddenly saw Sister Margaret’s cream robe turn crimson. Terror gripped her as she watched, not quite comprehending what was happening as the nun’s head began to loll back, her body sinking to the ground, blood oozing as her eyes held Alice’s stare.

  Alice began to shake, her whole body trembling as her screams mixed with the warm winds. Hysterically, she ran towards Sister Margaret and threw herself on the ground. Desperately afraid and racked with terrified sobs, Alice cradled the nun’s head in her arms. ‘Don’t die! Don’t die! Sister Margaret … Please … please … please!’

  Blood trickled out of the side of Sister Margaret’s mouth as she tried to speak. ‘Run, Alice. Run. Get help, and may God protect you …’

  A sound at the gates made Alice look up. Cold sweat began to drip from her as she saw two cars driving through them. She knew she had to move or they’d see her, but it felt like her legs were made of stone, as if fear were holding her down.

  Breathing out slowly, Alice closed her eyes, petrified to move and feeling her whole body go into spasms as Sister Margaret whispered up at her.

  ‘Alice, go! Go, child … Now!’

  Too frightened to speak, Alice nodded as she backed away slowly before breaking into a run, terror stopping her from turning around as she sprinted as fast as she could back through the meadows, heading for the white stone field shelter. She raced through the open archway to the relative safety of the dark, empty building, feeling like there were someone right behind her, feeling like she could almost feel their breath on the back of her neck.

  Terrified, trying to stop herself from crying, unable to stop shaking, Alice peeked through the dusty window, sneaking the smallest of glances …

  Over by Sister Margaret, the cars stopped. The doors flung open and Bobby Russo – his face covered by a demonic clown mask – stepped out. Leaving the other men by the brand-new blacked-out Escalades, Bobby sauntered across to the nun, watching for signs of life.

  Poking her with the nozzle of his semi-automatic, his voice was thick and nasal. ‘Where’s Alice Rose?’

  Not getting a response, Bobby kicked Sister Margaret on the top of her thigh with the tip of his boot, causing her to moan out loud. He chuckled. ‘So you are alive … I need to know where Alice Rose is.’

  Through blood-covered lips, Sister Margaret rasped, ‘God forgive you!’

  From behind the mask, Bobby grinned, his voice mocking. ‘Hey, Sis, I don’t need your God to forgive me, I’ve already booked my place in hell. Front-row seats. So don’t you go troubling yourself about me, just tell me where Alice is.’

  Riddled with pain, Sister Margaret spat her answer. ‘Never!’

  ‘Oh, it’s like that, is it? Going to be a ballsy broad? Fine, Sis, have it your own way.’

  After taking off the safety catch, Bobby pointed the gun straight into the nun’s face, pushing it down hard onto her forehead. ‘Prepare to meet your Maker.’

  ‘Bobby! Leave it! Come on!’ Salvatore called, gesturing for his brother to join him.

  Glancing down at the nun, Bobby shouted back, ‘What about her?’

  ‘Jesus, Bob, I said, come on!’

  Shrugging and flicking the latch back on his gun, Bobby, whistling, walked across to Salvatore who, along with the other men, wore hideous, gruesome masks.

  Giving out his orders, Salvatore, with cocaine and adrenalin rushing through his veins, spoke quickly. ‘Spread out. We know she’s here somewhere; the place isn’t that big. And have fun, make noise, we’re in the middle of nowhere, so no one’s going to hear them scream. If anyone does manage to call for help, it’ll be a hell of a long time before they get here.’

  Bobby looked around the grounds of the convent through the small slits of his mask and glanced at his brother. ‘Problem is, Sal, we don’t know what the kid looks like.’

  Salvatore sniffed, then said calmly, ‘Then there’s only one thing for us to do. We kill them all …’

  ‘Alice … Alice … Come out, come out, wherever you are!’

  Still hiding in the corner of the outhouse, Alice, hearing her name, whipped around, confusion mixing with fear.

  Puzzled and scared, wet with sweat, she crept back across to the tiny window, taking another peep, freezing at the sight in front of her … There were nine, ten men, all standing in a row wearing clown masks, gruesome and deathly but worse still, they were looking her way. Heading towards her hideout.

  She heard herself cry out, but she quickly slammed her hand over her mouth, not trusting herself not to make a sound as tears of terror ran down her face.

 
Taking a deep breath, Alice tried to calm herself and, not knowing what else to do, dropped to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut and clasping her hands together as she moved her lips in a silent prayer. But she felt no solace and the fear continued to flood over her, making her feel like she was drowning in a pool of horror.

  Braving herself to peep with one eye, Alice could see the men were still there, and for the first time in her life she was scared her prayers weren’t going to save her. Right then and there, she decided her mother had been right: the sin of forgetting to give thanks meant God would forsake her in her hour of need, like she’d forsaken him. And although she realised she’d been bad, she wished he’d give her a second chance, forgive her, because she was really terrified and had no idea what to do or where to run. All she wanted was to see her dad.

  Shivering, Alice’s thoughts began to rush. She couldn’t think straight, her chest beginning to tighten, making it hard for her to breathe, and her tears were choking her, blocking her airways. It felt like she was going to die.

  ‘Alice!’

  She held her head in her hands, rocking backwards and forwards. Why were they calling her name? How did they know it? She just wanted them to go away.

  ‘Alice, where are you?’

  Swallowing hard, Alice nervously crept forward, craning her head round the open archway, pinning herself against the wall in the shadows. As she watched, she banged her hand over her mouth again, this time to stop herself from screaming. Horrified, she saw one of her schoolfriends running, her face marked with terror as she charged towards the flower-filled woods. But it was too late, one of the men had spotted her, aiming and firing his gun in quick succession until a fountain of blood spurted out of the back of the girl’s head as it burst open, splitting into tiny pieces.

  Waves of nausea overwhelmed Alice and she struggled not to faint. She vomited in the corner, trying desperately not to make any noise. She knew she had to get out and wiping her mouth, Alice headed for the back window of the outhouse, which faced towards the convent.

  Glancing quickly behind her, panic-stricken, Alice clambered out, running frantically along the stone path, hoping to head towards the woods. At the corner of the outbuilding, hearing voices coming from the entrance of the school. Startled, Alice crouched down by the rose bushes, pushing herself as far back as possible.

  As she waited, Alice looked down, suddenly feeling like she’d stepped into something warm. Wide-eyed, she stared as she watched her white canvas sneakers begin to turn red, soaking up the flow of blood oozing towards her.

  Sick with fear, Alice’s gaze followed the trail. She gasped in panic. There, lying only yards away, were the bodies of Sister Abby and Sister Mary along with three of her classmates. Furiously, Alice scrabbled back, tears blinding her vision as she fought her urge to scream whilst the sound of more gunshots made her jump.

  She put her fingers in her ears, desperate to block out the cries of her friends as she stumbled along the path again, tripping over more bodies of her classmates as she began to run towards the side door of the convent; the smell of death mixing in the air with the sweet aroma of purple cornflowers and poppy mallows.

  Nearly at the main building, Alice froze in horror as she saw an evil clown with bright red hair, terrifying teeth and a bloodstained mouth standing guard by the entrance of the school, a sub-machine gun in hand. As fear clutched her stomach, she swallowed her vomit back down, petrified she was going to be caught.

  Trembling and about to go back the way she came, Alice heard men’s voices behind her getting louder, getting nearer. Hiding again, but keeping her eyes on the clown by the door, Alice tried to work out what to do next … He hadn’t seen her yet, but he would if she stayed where she was – though the problem was there was no way she could get to the side door without him spotting her, and turning back wasn’t an option.

  Then, suddenly, an idea came to mind and with a rush of renewed hope, Alice checked all around her, feeling her heart thump in her chest as she tiptoed along the wall, fixing her gaze firmly on the clown.

  A few feet further, Alice came to a halt by the fire escape ladder fixed to the outer wall of the convent. If only she could manage to climb up to the roof, she could get in through the skylight and make her way through to the other side of the building, which would give her access to the woods. Then just maybe, maybe she stood a chance.

  Looking up to the top of the five-storey building, Alice, who was terrified of heights, closed her eyes briefly, kissed the cross on her necklace and prayed for strength as she tried to push away her terror, to stop herself from shaking. Then, a moment later, Alice Rose began to climb.

  12

  Sister Margaret opened her eyes. The pain was unbearable but she needed to move and get help. Turning her head slowly to check no one was about, she winced in agony and, unable to stand, began to pull herself along the ground. She could feel herself losing blood, but she needed to get to the office before it was too late.

  Exhausted, she dragged herself along, saying a prayer for every dead body she passed as she ignored her own suffering, focusing on getting to the building and listening out for any approaching footsteps.

  After what seemed like forever, Sister Margaret finally made it to the small green door situated at the side of the convent’s office block. Stretching up for the door handle, she struggled to reach high enough, as the excruciating pain from the bullet – which sat like a ticking time bomb in her chest – prevented her from doing so.

  With her hands trembling and blood running down her arm, she tried again, fighting back frustrated tears. But it was no good, the pain acted like a barricade.

  Panting, Sister Margaret leant against the door, closing her eyes in anguish. Then almost immediately she opened them, smiling to herself ruefully, admonishing herself for thinking her despair wouldn’t be answered and guided.

  She pulled her rosary beads from her robe pocket and held them in her hand before flicking them up in the air, only for them to fall back down on her lap. Undeterred, Sister Margaret tried again. This time they hooked over the silver door handle, creating a loop to hold onto.

  Grabbing the large wooden cross on the end of the rosary, Sister Margaret drew herself up. The weight of her body on the beads – as she intended – pulled and released the door, giving her the opportunity, before they broke, to throw herself forward and tumble inside the hallway.

  Still unable to stand, she heaved herself along the corridor, a trail of blood behind her. Drained and weak, feeling like time was running out, she summoned up the last of her strength as she began to cough up blood.

  Making it to her office, Sister Margaret held onto the sides of the dark wooden furniture to drag herself along. At her desk she rested for a moment, trying to get her breath as she pulled at the phone wire, bringing books and letters along with the phone crashing down onto the floor.

  Trembling, she yanked a slim black notebook out of her other robe pocket, the white pages in it turning red with her blood. She could feel herself starting to black out, the words and numbers on the pages blurring in and out of vision.

  Punching out a number whilst grimacing at each movement and every pain wave, Sister Margaret cradled the phone in her arms as it rang.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mr Morton, it’s Sister Margaret.’

  ‘Hello?’

  The nun’s voice was almost inaudible. ‘Mr Morton, you’ve got to come. They’re after Alice …’

  ‘Hello? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.’

  Sister Margaret fell forward, the phone dropping out of her hands as her face slammed down onto the hard parquet tiles. Her body smashing against the wood.

  ‘Hello? Hello?’

  In the corridor Alice, hearing a noise in Sister Margaret’s office, stopped, her heart racing not only at the sound coming from inside the room, but also at the trail of blood snaking up the hall. She began to shake again as she listened, panic and dread overwhelming her. But there was silence. No
thing but silence. Then, breathing out to quieten her fear, Alice slowly moved forward and peeked through the crack of the open door.

  Gawking in horror, feeling like she were in a waking nightmare, Alice saw the lifeless body of Sister Margaret sprawled across the floor. She ran into the room but immediately slipped on a pool of blood, which threw her forward to trip and fall on top of the nun.

  Letting out a small scream, Alice, hysterical, pulled herself into a ball as she began to cry uncontrollably.

  ‘Hello? Hello? Hello, are you there?’

  Quivering and curled up tightly, Alice frowned, straining to hear. Then, almost too traumatised to move, she slowly turned her head towards the sound.

  ‘Hello? Hello?’

  Suddenly realising there was somebody on the other end of the phone, Alice crawled forward, picking up the receiver as her hands shook furiously and her voice trembled. She spoke through dry lips. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Alice?’

  Overcome with emotion, she nodded, breaking down into silent tears as she heard her father’s voice.

  ‘Alice?’

  Trying to talk quietly as she furiously began to hyperventilate, Alice only just managed to get the words out. ‘Dad, Dad, you’ve got to help me!’

  ‘Alice, Jesus Christ, what’s happening?’

  ‘Everyone’s dead, they’re dead.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Alice began to rock, sobbing into the phone. ‘Please, help me. Help me.’

  ‘Alice, you’re not making sense.’

  ‘Sister Margaret, she’s dead too. I think they all are.’

  Cabhan’s voice was urgent and full of fear. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve got to get out of there. You hear me?’

  Alice shook her head, snot and tears running down her face. ‘I can’t, the clowns are everywhere …’

  ‘Alice, you’re frightening me. Look, we can be there in about an hour, maybe less. We’re already in the area, but you need to …’