Song Of The Psychopath

by Mark Tilbury

  But these boys had been the lucky ones compared to what Number Nine had coming to him. Imagining what he was going to do to that slippery swine was the only thing that pacified him in the early hours when sleep lost its battle with worry for control of his head.

  He crossed his legs to stop them shaking. He’d only managed thirty lengths of the pool. Merely a gentle warm-up under normal circumstances.

  Once this nonsense was dealt with, he’d get on with building the gym and sticking to a regular fitness regime. Put the past behind him and move towards a brighter and more prosperous future.

  His mobile buzzed on the table next to him. He checked the name on the screen and picked it up. ‘Hi.’

  ‘It’s me, Master.’

  ‘I bloody well know that.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘By the pool.’

  ‘Are you free to talk?’

  ‘Depends what you want to talk about. I don’t want any more bad news. I’ve had enough of that to last me a dozen lifetimes.’

  ‘It’s positive.’

  Duggan sighed. ‘God, I hope so. It’s as if I’ve got a ten-ton weight on my shoulders.’

  ‘Would you like a massage, Master?’

  ‘Just the good news will suffice.’ Duggan disconnected the call and pulled his robe tighter. Perhaps a nice hot bath would help to ease his aching muscles. It was a damn shame Radox couldn’t do anything to soothe throbbing heads.

  Duggan, as always, was captured by the beauty of his prodigy. Tall, slender, and with features to make a Greek God jealous, Dean strutted into the pool room with sparkling eyes and a cheesy grin.

  He sat beside Duggan, stretched his legs, and yawned. ‘He’s taken the bait, Master. He’s agreed to come to the flat on Saturday.’

  ‘You serious?’

  ‘Yes, Master. I’m to pick him up around midday.’

  ‘Thank God.’

  ‘Do you want me to actually take him to the flat or bring him straight here?’

  ‘Take him to the flat first. I don’t want him getting suspicious if you head towards Oxford. Drug him, but not enough to completely zonk him out.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Duggan brushed back his hair with a hand. ‘So, has he revealed anything else?’

  ‘A bit. He knows he was on the way to Bernard’s house when he threw himself out of the car.’

  Duggan’s heart jolted. ‘He actually named Clancy?’

  ‘No. But stuff’s starting to come back to him. It won’t be too long before he regains his memory completely.’

  ‘Yes, well, let him tell all to his maker. Anything else?’

  ‘Not really. He’s hardly what one might call engaging.’

  ‘What about that pesky sister of his? What if she wants to accompany Nine to the flat?’

  Dean grinned. ‘She’s fulfilling her obligation to servitude at the supermarket on Saturday.’

  ‘Good. We don’t want any more problems.’

  ‘There won’t be, Master. What shall I do with the keys when I leave?’

  ‘You’ll have to go back to the flat after you bring Number Nine here. Wipe everything down. Hoover throughout. Clean out the bath and shower and get rid of any hair in the plugholes. I want that place forensically clean.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then post the keys back through the letterbox.’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘You will be duly rewarded for your work, Dean. You’ve done extremely well considering the difficult circumstances you were placed under.’

  ‘Thank you, Master. I have to say, the worst part was trying to show affection to his sister. It was especially stressful when I had to kiss her.’

  ‘My sincere apologies for that.’

  ‘To make matters worse, she smokes like a chimney and has a taste for garlic. It was like joining my lips to a waste disposal unit.’

  ‘We all have to make sacrifices, Dean. No gain without pain, as they say.’

  ‘As for his parents, they’re so dull it’s a miracle they ever produced two kids.’

  ‘Copulation is little more than a primal urge. Unfortunately, even the lower classes manage to reproduce.’

  ‘I can’t believe Number Nine survived throwing himself out of the car. Especially with Hemmings at the wheel.’

  ‘Don’t remind me of that useless idiot. Wouldn’t surprise me if the worms are giving him a wide berth as we speak.’

  Dean laughed. ‘I’d be on hunger strike if he was the only thing on the menu.’

  ‘Me, too.’ Duggan stood. ‘Right, I’m going to have a nice long soak in the bath.’

  ‘Would you like me to scrub your back, Master?’

  Duggan’s physical fragility was rapidly overridden by a strong desire to share his bath with Dean. Run his hands all over that glorious body. Go to the master bedroom and indulge in some raw, uninhibited sex.

  ‘Thank you, Dean. That would be wonderful.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Tommy, dressed in jeans and a baggy black jumper, sat in the lounge with his parents waiting for Dean to pick him up. He’d made an effort to get up in the mornings for the last few days. Talk to his parents. Show them some respect. Apologise for his behaviour. Be reasonable. It was the least he could do for all the nasty things he’d said to them since he’d arrived back home.

  The house was still unfamiliar to him, as were the people in it, but the animosity he’d felt towards his long-suffering parents had drained away along with the plan to take his own life. He was well aware these negative thought patterns and behaviours could return at any given moment, but he wasn’t going to let that spoil this period of relative peace.

  The police had officially launched a murder inquiry into Dr Marks’ death. The fact these monsters could go after the therapist treating him told Tommy all he needed to know about the threat to his own safety. And his family.

  He’d looked Sir Bernard Clancy up on the internet. Studied various images of him through his career. A young Clancy in a boating blazer sporting a red bow tie. Grinning at the camera. Studying law at Oxford University. Older Clancy, dark hair tinged with grey streaks. Becoming an MP for Wantage. Progressing through the ranks all the way to Health Secretary. His weight had substantially increased with time.

  But Tommy had never met Clancy, so he had no way of verifying whether he was the serial abuser of boys. The vile creep who’d burned Number Seven with a cigar and tried to drown him in a Jacuzzi. He could hardly go to the police and say it had to be Clancy, because just seeing his picture made his skin crawl.

  Charlie lowered his newspaper. ‘What time’s Dean picking you up?’

  ‘About midday.’

  ‘You looking forward to it?’

  ‘Sort of. It feels a bit weird going out, though.’

  ‘I can imagine. But at least it’s another step on the road to recovery. A baby step, granted, but anything’s better than nothing.’

  ‘We’re so proud of you,’ Rachel said. ‘You’re such a brave boy dealing with all this turmoil.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. More like I’ve got no choice.’

  Charlie folded his newspaper and put it on the coffee table. ‘Throwing yourself out of a moving car’s not only brave, it’s bloody heroic. I wouldn’t have the guts to do that.’

  Something squeezed his heart. He wished he could remember more about his life before the abduction. Feel the bond he’d once had with his parents. Recall the special times he’d shared with them.

  ‘What do you think of Dean?’ Rachel asked.

  Tommy shrugged. ‘He seems all right. And Danielle loves him, so…’

  ‘He’s a decent lad,’ Charlie said. ‘Just what she needs. A bit of stability in her life after the last year.’

  Rachel fiddled with a button on her cardigan. ‘But she’s only twenty. There’s plenty of time for her to settle down. I just hope she doesn’t rush into something she’ll later regret.’

  Charlie smiled. ‘Danielle’s
got a good head on her shoulders. She’s more than capable of figuring out what’s best for her. If you ask me, they make a lovely couple.’

  ‘She needs to live a bit first,’ Rachel said. ‘Do some travelling. See a bit of the world before she settles down.’

  The doorbell rang. Tommy stood and went to the window. ‘He’s here.’

  ‘Will you be home for tea?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Would you let me know, please? I’m ordering Chinese.’

  Tommy walked into the hall. ‘Don’t worry about me. Dean said he’s gonna get pizza.’

  Rachel followed him to the door. Hugged him. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘I’m only going to Chorley, Mum, not the other side of the world.’ He kissed her on the cheek, opened the door, and stepped into a fine drizzle. ‘See you later.’

  Dean’s car looked as if it might have been ready for the scrapyard a decade ago. An old Ford Escort with a ripped passenger seat, it stank of petrol and seemed to rev itself while idling.

  Tommy got inside and buckled the seatbelt. ‘Hi.’

  Dean grinned. ‘Hello, Tommy. How you feeling today?’

  ‘Not too bad.’

  ‘You sure you still wanna come to the flat?’

  Tommy wasn’t, but he didn’t want to back down now. It was important he forced himself to go out. Even if it was only with his sister’s boyfriend. ‘Yeah. I’m sure.’

  Dean slipped the car into gear and pulled away from the kerb. The car juddered and spluttered most of the way along the bypass.

  ‘Sorry about the car,’ Dean said. ‘The garage lent me it while mine’s in for repair.’

  ‘What have you got?’

  ‘An Audi.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘It is late at night when you can take it on the ring road and put your foot down. It literally takes your breath away.’

  ‘How fast have you got it up to?’

  ‘One-thirty. But it can go faster.’

  Tommy didn’t think he’d like to be a passenger in a car like that. One wrong move and they’d be scraping you off the road. His mind turned to thoughts of Clancy for the rest of the journey. That fine, upstanding citizen with a headful of filthy secrets. He wondered how many other Clancys were out there, preaching morals, passing laws, while all the time committing the vilest acts imaginable.

  Dean parked at a small block of flats at the end on Inglenook Lane. ‘Here we are. Home sweet home.’

  The car spluttered, backfired, and finally died. Tommy thought it was touch and go whether the old banger would ever start again.

  Dean led Tommy into a communal hallway that stank of disinfectant. Muddy footprints decorated the black-and-white-checked tiles.

  Dean checked a row of pigeonholes for mail. ‘Sorry about the smell. The cleaners come in on Saturday mornings and spray a load of crap about and pretend they’ve done their jobs. If it was up to me, I’d sack the lot of them.’

  He followed Dean up a flight of steps with a bright-red handrail. The cream-coloured walls were smudged with handprints, and several cigarette butts littered one corner of the first-floor landing.

  Dean unlocked the door to flat 7D and ushered Tommy inside. ‘I’ll be glad to get out of here.’

  Tommy frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘The flat’s only temporary while I’m having my place fixed up. It was the cheapest rent I could find.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Dean moved a pile of clothes from an old rocking chair. ‘Take a pew.’

  Tommy sat. The chair creaked beneath his weight. There were boxes and clothes littered everywhere.

  ‘Apologies for the mess. I never bothered unpacking much when I moved in. Couldn’t see the point with it being only temporary.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Tommy said. ‘It looks pretty cool to me.’

  Dean grinned. ‘Everywhere looks good when you’re still living at home with your parents, doesn’t it? Danielle tells me your mum’s a bit of a stickler for keeping things all spic and span.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Bet you can’t wait to get outta there one day?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I need to get my head better before I go anywhere.’

  ‘And finish school.’

  Tommy winced. ‘Thanks for reminding me.’

  ‘Got any idea what you want to do?’

  Find the bastards who did this to me. ‘Not really. Danielle reckons I wanted to be a footballer, but I don’t have any interest in it anymore.’

  Dean picked up a cardboard box from a pink velour sofa and put it on the floor beneath an old sash window. ‘It’s important to have a dream, Tommy. The world’s such a shitty place without it. You might even be able to get back into your football after you’ve recovered.’

  ‘If I ever do.’

  ‘You will. You’ve got enough about you to do whatever you want. You’ve proved that in the last few weeks. Would you like a coffee?’

  Tommy nodded.

  ‘Are you all right with black? I haven’t got any milk.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Sugar?’

  ‘Two please.’

  Dean bowed. ‘Coming right up, sir.’

  Tommy leaned back in the chair. Rocked gently back and forth. Had a sudden flash of memory. At home, sitting on his mother’s lap in the old toy room listening to her reading a story about a black dog who had lost its bark.

  His tummy tingled with excitement. It wasn’t the usual traumatic memory; it was real. No Bellas in the shed or Masters involved. Just a nice, normal, everyday recollection. He could even smell the faint whiff of his mother’s perfume.

  Dean returned with a steaming mug of coffee. He cleared a space on a battered half-moon table and put it down. No coaster required on the scratched and chipped surface.

  ‘Thanks.’ Tommy considered telling him about the memory, but it didn’t seem a big enough deal to share. Insignificant to someone like his sister’s boyfriend who’d not been suffering from amnesia.

  Dean sat on the sofa and sipped from a can of Diet Coke. ‘I always wanted to be an actor when I was a kid. A famous film star. Go to parties and be the centre of attention. Now I can’t think of anything worse.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. But adults always knock your dreams out of you. But, hey, I’d much rather own a cleaning company than swan around with all those pretentious arseholes. At least I get to do something useful.’

  ‘True.’ Tommy drank his coffee in silence, then put the mug on the table. Hot and bitter, even with the sugar. He glanced around the room and thought Dean’s flat wasn’t exactly a good advertisement for his profession. But, it was only temporary, so he didn’t blame him for not giving a shit about it.

  Dean put his Coke can on the sofa next to him. ‘You still up for pizza?’

  Tommy’s eyelids drooped slightly. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What topping do you want?’

  Tommy tried to tell him, but his mouth refused to work.

  ‘You all right, Tommy?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I’m going to have ham and pineapple,’ Dean said. ‘Might even throw the boat out and have a side of wedges, too.’

  The chair rocked gently without any effort from Tommy. Again his mind wandered back to sitting with his mum in the playroom. He couldn’t for the life of him remember her name, but it was something like Angel. Or was that Satchel?

  ‘What do you want on your pizza, Tommy?’

  He yawned. Rubbed his eyes. His mother’s voice sang in his head. One, two, three, four, five, once I caught a fish alive.

  ‘You look knackered, mate,’ Dean said. ‘Why don’t we go to Pizza Parlour and get some food? The fresh air might do you good.’

  Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, then I let it go again.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Tommy held on to the handrail for all he was worth as they descended the steps. His hands were numb, and everything around him swam in and out of focus. He re
ached the bottom and took a giant step onto the tiled floor, careful not to miss and fall down a crack in the pavement.

  Dean grinned. ‘You all right, mate? You look a bit out of it.’

  The question ricocheted around inside his head. He tried to answer, but his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. Now there were two Deans, both shimmering beneath the hall lights.

  Dean One held out a hand. ‘Come on, Tommy, I’ll help you to the car.’

  Tommy gawped at the fuzzy twins. Who the fuck were they?

  Bill and Ben, the Flower Pot Men, a voice piped up in his head. Was this another childhood memory? Something his mother used to read to him in the playroom? But that wasn’t important. Not when the world was a magic roundabout and it was time to play.

  ‘Tommy?’

  Twin One’s right-hand man, Twin Two, swayed from side to side as if he was standing on a ship’s deck. ‘Come on, mate. Let’s get you in the car.’

  Mesmerised, Tommy watched the words tumble from Twin Two’s lips and fall to the floor. What the hell was happening? Where was he?

  Gravity no longer existed in this strange, new Tommy world. His head seemed as if it might float away at any moment and fly to the moon. He giggled. Attempted to clamp a hand over his mouth but only succeeded in poking himself in the ear.

  The twins morphed back into one. But now there was a yellow aura surrounding the stranger.

  Dean grabbed his arm and helped him along the hallway. Which was good, because at least it would stop Tommy flying to the moon.

  By the time they reached the battered car, Tommy wasn’t in possession of a body. It was amazing. No pain. No aching limbs. Nothing.

  Time, that slow, creeping thief, no longer existed in Tommy’s head. He sat in the back of the car unaware of getting in or pulling away from the flats. Trees flew past the window, great oak missiles heading towards… the moon? To obliterate the cheese man?

  Shift: A tall building reaching up to the clouds. Black glass windows glinting in the sun. A thousand secrets hidden behind their dark, disturbing eyes. Flags on the rooftops fluttering in the wind. A loud droning noise boring a hole in his brain.