Chapter 1
One
Wednesday, 26th March, 2014
That was the clever part: Bobby had been shackled to the cliffs and left to watch the tide rise, death creeping slowly up the rocks.
A thousand years had passed since the red sandstone was quarried to build the abbey at Arbroath. Cart tracks, rutted deep into the sandstone rocks leading back to the car park at the start of the cliffs, were said to have been made by the monks as they hauled the stone away from the shoreline quarry for the sixty-year building project. The iron rings were probably a much later addition to the scene. Now they held ropes tied around the wrists of Bobby Gant.
He had been beaten to the point of unconsciousness, gagged, and arms and legs bound with ropes. The assault had taken place in a dimly lit building. His mind had raced as the two men beat him with a long strip of leather. Or had it been a belt? He knew it was leather because he could smell it when they whipped it into his face. Funny, he thought. Why was he trying to work out what they’d beaten him with? His mind went back to the one time he had been punished at school, when the ultimate discipline was six of the best with a leather strap. The “belt”.
Another blow seared his cheek. This one opened up a deep cut and the blood flowed into his mouth. The pain was immense, but the involuntary cry wouldn’t come. It was as if someone had tackled him to the ground and winded him, his breath forced from his body without the accompanying groan. Tears did come, mixing with blood and filling his eyes so that the one naked light bulb sparkled and morphed like an exploding firework when his head fell back, and he looked up with eyes still barely open.
Bobby had lost all sense of time. The beatings had gone on for some time, and he had lapsed in and out of consciousness. He had been bundled into the back of a van and driven out to the cliffs, bag over his head and trussed up with those ropes which were now cutting into his wrists and ankles. They had pushed him out of the back of the vehicle with a few kicks and he hit the ground on his side, popping his shoulder out of its socket. This time the cry came, and he let out a scream that was muffled by a gag in his mouth. He was lifted to his feet and shoved forward. He could hear the waves to his right and felt the unevenness of the ground as he walked for about five minutes.
Grass gave way to rock. He stumbled and, unable to steady himself or break his fall with his hands tied behind him, he crashed down landing on his right knee and upper thigh on the rough terrain.
A hand under his disjointed arm brought him to his feet again as more tears fell with the pain. After just a few minutes he was pushed down and told to sit. The rope around his wrists was untied and his arms were pulled to the side. He almost fainted as bone was ground against bone in the shoulder. Tied to the rings he sat on the rocks. The bag was removed from his head, but the gag remained, and his two companions said nothing as they turned and walked away.
He blinked as he tried to work out exactly where he was. It was cloudy and dark - evening or morning, he couldn't tell as he didn’t know where the sun was - but he could see jagged red sandstone rising above him ten stories and the North Sea was in front of him like a dirty blanket laid over the rocks in the grey gloom fifty yards away. He tried to think. Where was he? He had to be at the cliffs on the edge of town. He looked around again and in an instant he knew the sea was not going to keep its distance and would slowly come towards him, creeping up as if it were a wild animal curious about the stranger in its environment. The realisation made Bobby start to kick and pull at the ropes tied to the rings, every movement causing searing pain to shoot through his body.
Slowly, inexorably, the cold sea made its way up to Bobby. He continued to struggle, lashing out with his feet as if he could kick it away, but the ropes held fast until, eventually, he could no longer keep his head above the waves. At least the pain will go away, he thought. It wasn't long before he stopped kicking and slipped into unconsciousness.
Death had washed over him.
