Page 81 of The Bodyguard

“Lena! Please, I just want to talk to you!”

Lena doesn’t respond, she keeps her eyes focused straight ahead as we reach the door, and I open it; peer outside, it’s pitch black outside, the only light coming from the street lamps and a row of solar bulbs strung across the branches of a small tree in the front garden. Nobody’s out here, and I hope that also means nobody’s heard us. The house is detached, so that might have helped, but we need to get Nielsen to the car before anyone sees us.

“It’s over,” I tell her as she quickly turns her head to glance behind her, back at the house. “He’s done.”

She shifts her gaze out front as I open the gate, and she reaches into her pocket and fishes out her keys, the car’s wing mirrors opening out a welcome sight as I tuck the gun into the back of my jeans and help Lena slide her father gently onto the back seat. She gets in with him and I take the keys off her and climb into the driver’s side, starting the engine and pulling away, we need to get out of here; need to get Nielsen somewhere safe.

“Where are we going?” Lena asks, her voice shaking, and I glance quickly in the rear view mirror. Nielsen’s barely awake, his eyes slowly closing.

“Try to keep him awake.”

“There’s blood everywhere… Where the fuck are we going, Jonah?”

“Just do as I tell you, okay?” I pull out my phone and make a call, and they answer within seconds. As they always promised they would.

“Where are you, Jonah?”

I tell them; explain what’s happened in as few words as possible, we don’t have time for the full story. That can wait.

“Jonah? What’s going on?”

I look at Lena in the rear view mirror as I end the call. “We’re getting your father somewhere safe.”

“We?”

She’s got questions, but now’s not the time to answer them. So I don’t. “Just look after your father.”

It takes about fifteen minutes to find the address Flick gave me, a small, red-brick house on a deserted path that anyone would struggle to find.

“Where the hell are we?” Lena asks as I stop the car and jump out, flinging open the back passenger door.

“Stay here while I open the front door.”

“Jonah…?”

I race up the path; around the side of the house; find the smallchamomile bush and dig around until I find the key. My heart’s beating so hard it hurts, my throat tight, it’s difficult to breathe, and my head’s all over the fucking place, I’m making this shit up as I go along but I don’t know what else to do. I’m surviving on my wits and that ever-present adrenaline, nothing else.

Sliding the key into the lock I open the door and head back down the path, to Lena.

“Help me get your father inside. Come on.”

We carefully lift Nielsen out of the car, his head lolling to one side, but I think he’s still awake. Just. I can hear him mumbling incoherently as I cling onto his waist, trying desperately to keep him upright.

We drag him up the path and into the house, and I kick the door shut behind us, taking a second to breathe.

“What is this place?” Lena asks, but even she knows now isn’t the time to ask questions.

“We need to get him into the kitchen. It’s up here, at the end of the hall.”

I can hear her laboured breathing, which is understandable, her father’s a big man. And right now he’s like a dead-weight as we drag him along the narrow hallway, but once inside the kitchen we finally manage to manoeuvre him down onto a long, rectangular table that sits in the centre of the room. A room devoid of any character with its basic units, bare wooden floor, stark lighting and beige walls.

“Jonah? Where are we?” Lena looks at me, her hands on her hips as she tries to catch her breath.

“Give me a second…” I pull out my phone and tap out a quick text. “Somebody’s coming.”

“Somebody…? Who, Jonah? What the fuck is going on?”

“Do you want your father to live?”

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