Witness - [49]

A flash: his skin hot and dry, quivering, the volley of blows. Flayed until he could barely crawl. ‘It’s not true,’ Zak shouted. He’d been bad, that was all. He’d be good now, she’d see.

‘Eleven different fractures, ruptured spleen, malnourished, dehydrated. She kept you chained in a shed.’

Scattered sensations, the bite of metal cold on his ankle, the taste of iron in his mouth, licking his palms for the salt, the crumbs of rubber on his tongue, trying to grind them smaller. ‘It was a car crash,’ he shouted.

‘A car crash that lasted seven years? That what she told you to say?’ Large asked him. ‘You were starving; you’d chewed up the lino. You were covered in your own filth. You looked like a famine victim. The social workers recommended that there be no further contact. She showed no sign of remorse.’

Zak had his hands over his ears, he wouldn’t listen to them.

‘She nearly killed you,’ Little said. ‘Why on earth – this, running off into the sunset, it ain’t going to happen, Zak. Even if we could trace her, why the hell would you want to?’

Zak started crying, he couldn’t help it. Little shuffled about a bit then got up and said they’d be back in a while.

He must have nodded off because next thing someone was shaking his shoulder and it was Large saying, ‘Come on, lad, we’re shipping you out.’

‘Where to?’

‘Hull.’

‘Hull? Where’s Hull?’ Zak knew nothing about the place but the name. He’d a feeling it wasn’t Cornwall.

‘North-east.’ Little flashed his teeth.

‘Newcastle?’ Zak sat up, swung his legs off the bench, in a daze.

‘Down a bit. It’s going to be home from now on,’ Little said.

‘Can I get my stuff?’ Zak asked; his sleeping bag was in the underground car park, his other bits.

Large shook his head, looked glum. ‘No souvenirs, no goodbyes, no forwarding address. Clean slate. Welcome to witness protection.’

‘What about Bess?’ Zak began to panic, shaking. ‘I’m not going without her.’

Large nodded. ‘She’s coming.’

That was cool then. He got to his feet. ‘Will I have to change my name?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Large nodded. ‘New name, new history, flat, job, whole kit and caboodle.’

‘And Bess?’

‘I said she’s coming,’ Large said.

‘No,’ said Zak, ‘will she have to change her name an’ all?’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Mike

‘She won’t wear it,’ Mike had told Joe. Mike had been to sign on and Joe was out of the office, as he put it, so they’d met up at a cafe near the Jobcentre. ‘I told her everything like you said, about the crash and the panic alarm, but she won’t budge. She hasn’t just put her foot down,’ he said bitterly, ‘she’s nailed it to the floor.’

‘And if you go ahead?’ Joe asked.

‘I lose them, she kicks me out.’ Mike couldn’t imagine it: going home to some bedsit, no Vicky beside him, no kids making a racket. Just himself, the ultimate loser, no job, no family. ‘You’ve got other witnesses?’ He couldn’t look at Joe, the shame heavy in him, a plea in his voice.

‘We need you, Mike.’ Joe had spoken simply: no theatrics, just facts.

‘How can I?’ Mike swung his head to look out of the window: a gang of kids had chalks, were scribbling on the flagstones. There was a CD on in the cafe, Coldplay, the third album X &Y, not their best, Mike reckoned, but this particular track a masterpiece, though not the soundtrack Mike wanted to his craven betrayal. Chris Martin’s voice, pure as water, intimate as they come, singing ‘Fix You’. Not this, mate, Mike thought, no fixing this.

‘I’m not sure we could take you on but would you reconsider the witness protection programme? If we go that route,’ Joe added, ‘someone else takes the reins. I’d have nothing more to do with you. Minimum number of people involved, all very secretive – understandably.’

Mike shook his head. ‘My boy…’ Let alone Vicky. No way would she give up hearth and home and family to be shunted off somewhere like criminals.

Joe sighed, turned his coffee cup round, lining up the handle. ‘Retraction isn’t an option.’

‘Say again?’

‘When you signed your statement, you were giving your consent to give evidence if required. You were told that at the time.’

‘And if I won’t?’ Mike demanded.

‘You’d get a witness summons, if you failed to attend you could be held in contempt of court, arrested, fined, even imprisoned.’

‘What! You wouldn’t do that!’

‘It wouldn’t be up to me,’ Joe said. ‘I wouldn’t have any say. Be down to the judge.’

‘And they’d really do that?’ The guy was telling him that if he didn’t sacrifice his family, he’d end up in prison.

‘Oh, yes. This is a very serious matter. Prosecution is in the public interest, a hostile witness would not be tolerated.’

‘I couldn’t pay a fine, I’m signing on. Get banged up-’ Mike pushed his plate away, the pastry untouched, he couldn’t eat.

‘If you told your wife-’

‘You don’t know Vicky.’ Mike pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, squeezed his eyes shut tight. This was a total disaster. He sat up, looked across at Joe. ‘If it was down to me, if it only affected me, I’d not think twice. That’s why I came forward in the first place.’

‘I could talk to her.’ Joe took a drink.

‘No,’ said Mike quickly, ‘it wouldn’t help.’ Vicky had him by the balls and now the criminal justice system did too. Pulling in different directions.