Song Of The Psychopath

by Mark Tilbury

  Seven answered with a series of pitiful sobs.

  ‘As you wish.’ She held the bottle close to the side of his face and poured a few drops of the acid on his skin.

  Number Seven rumbled back to life, kicking and screaming, feet scrambling for purchase on the tiled floor.

  Bella straightened. Put the cap back on the bottle and returned it to her bag. ‘I’m going to report my findings to The Master. I suggest you two have a heart-to-heart and see if you can’t convince each other to be more truthful in the future.’

  She walked up the steps, leaving Tommy under no illusion him and Number Seven were going all the way to Hell on a slow train.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Tommy jerked awake, gasping for air. Blood oozed from his nose. For a few seconds, he forgot where he was, but Number Seven’s weeping brought him quickly back to reality. He twisted his head sharply to the right and saw the poor kid sitting against the wall with his head resting on his knees.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he said, immediately realising it was the dumbest question in the world. ‘Sorry. Course you’re not.’

  Seven responded by letting out a low guttural moan and banging his head on his knees.

  Tommy looked away. What could he say? Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon? Try not to think about the pain? Just useless fuckin’ words for when there was nothing left to say.

  He wondered what Danielle was doing right now. Was she out searching for him? Going frantic because him and her precious boyfriend were both missing? Although this wasn’t Danielle’s fault, a part of him couldn’t help blaming her for getting involved with Dean in the first place.

  None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t got drunk and pissed off to Oxford over a stupid argument, a voice in his head reminded him.

  Tommy had no dispute with that. Family life, by all accounts, was pretty normal before he threw a tantrum and walked out.

  Act in haste, repent at leisure. One of his father’s sayings. Another memory to savour before death stole the lot of them for keeps.

  ‘My fuckin’ body’s on fire,’ Seven said, his voice hoarse. ‘God, it fuckin’ hurts.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to land you in the shit.’

  Seven looked up. The right side of his face was blistered and bleeding. ‘Don’t blame yourself. At least you tried to get away from this shithole.’

  And look where it got us. ‘I’m still sorry. I’d do anything to turn back time and start again.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell the police about what was going on here?’

  ‘I lost my memory. I’m sorry. I should’ve gone to Clancy’s and—’

  Tears streamed down Seven’s cheeks. ‘Don’t be stupid. You did the right thing. At least you gave yourself a chance.’ He sucked in air through clenched teeth. Sobbed. Snorkelled snot. ‘So, what happened? How did they find you?’

  ‘Bella. She transformed herself into a bloke called Dean and started dating my sister.’

  ‘That fuckin’ freak is a bloke. Before he died, Number Two told me The Master brought him here and fucked with his head. Gave him a new personality or something and created Bella.’

  Nothing surprised Tommy anymore. He wouldn’t have been shocked to learn the bitch had started life as a stray cat. ‘How?’

  ‘Fuck knows. So, what happened after your sister started seeing him?’

  ‘He wormed his way into the family. Invited me over to his flat for the day. Next thing I knew, I was back here. He must’ve drugged my coffee.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘I should’ve recognised the bastard. Jesus Christ, why couldn’t I see he was Bella? It’s as if I was blind or something.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up. He wears a lot of makeup when he’s dressed as Bella.’

  This didn’t make Tommy feel any better. The features were striking once you looked properly. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘And he wears coloured contact lenses. I’ve even seen him with red ones.’

  Tommy couldn’t remember whether Dean’s eyes were blue like Bella’s or grey. They might even have been green. But it hardly mattered now, did it? The damage was already done. ‘I’d give anything to spend half an hour with that fuckin’ freak tied to the bed.’

  Seven groaned. Touched the injured side of his face. ‘I’d feed the bastard to the fish while he was alive.’

  Tommy stared at the tank. Its deadly shoal of piranhas patiently waiting for their next meal. He changed the subject. ‘What’s your real name?’

  ‘Oliver. But all my mates call me Olly. Well, they used to. What’s yours?’

  ‘Tommy.’

  ‘My granddad was called Tommy. He died when I was nine.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Still miss him now. I like to think he’s up there somewhere watching over me. He used to be in the air force.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘Bit of luck, he’ll fly over Thorndike House in a ghost plane and drop a fuckin’ bomb on it.’

  ‘How did you end up here?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘After my mum died of cancer, my old man hit the bottle. I mean, he wasn’t much fuckin’ use before she died, but things got really bad after. He started rolling in from the pub late at night. Smashing things up. Coming into my room and accusing me of all sorts of shit. Beating me up. Telling me he was gonna kill me. That it was my fault Mum had died.’

  ‘Bloody hell! How old were you?’

  ‘Eleven.’

  ‘Shit. Any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘Only Jane, but she’s ten years older than me, and she was already shacked up with some bloke by then.’

  ‘Couldn’t you tell her what was going on?’

  Olly gasped. Dug his nails into his legs. Panted. Waited a few moments before answering. ‘Not really. She lived in Portsmouth and didn’t have much to do with us. She hated Dad, and for fuckin’ good reason.’

  Tommy licked blood from his top lip. ‘That’s really sad.’

  ‘Mum was nice, though. I can’t really remember too much about her before she got ill, but she’d always do her best to be a good mum. When she was dying, she used to come to my room and sit with me at night. I used to lie awake after she passed away and wonder why it wasn’t that fuckin’ whack job who’d died.’

  ‘Nothing’s ever fair,’ Tommy said.

  ‘You ain’t fuckin’ wrong. Anyway, I started hanging around with a few lads in the evenings while he was down at the pub. Started nicking stuff. Smoking weed. Nothing really bad. Kids’ stuff. Then one night we got caught trying to break in to a house. Two of the lads were outside keeping watch, and I got in through an open vent at the side of the house. I know it was stupid, but you don’t think things through when you’re doped up to the eyeballs. It was more about doing something exciting than anything else. Anyway, I got in all right. I’ve always been a skinny fucker. But the guy who lived there caught me and called the police.’

  ‘Why didn’t you run?’

  Olly winced. Touched the side of his blistered face. ‘I did. But I tripped on a toy train in the front room. The police took me to the station and phoned the old man to come and pick me up. But he was too pissed to drive, so they took me home. Told him I’d been caught trying to rob a house, and they’d found weed on me when they’d arrested me.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘He went ballistic after they left. Beat the shit outta me. I couldn’t walk for a few days. But it gave me time to get my head together. Realise I wasn’t gonna put up with that shit no more. I know I was wrong to go into the house, but I was sick of that wanker acting like he was judge and jury. So, I left a few days later and never went back.’

  ‘Don’t seem like you had much choice.’

  ‘Too fuckin’ right. Although things ain’t turned out too good, I know if I’d stayed there much longer the bastard woulda killed me.’ Olly groaned. ‘My fuckin’ face is burning up.’

  What did Tommy say to that? Don’t worry about it, there’s far worse to come? �
�How did you wind up here?’

  ‘That bitch Bella got talking to me outside a chippy. I’d been waiting for someone to throw something in the bin. A half-eaten sausage or a few manky chips. I can’t even describe how hungry I was. She asked me if I wanted something to eat. At first, I thought all my birthdays had come at once. She treated me to two fishcakes and a large cone of chips. It was the best meal I ever had.’

  Tommy remembered Bella taking him to the café. Pretending to be his friend, drugging his coffee.

  ‘Now, I wish I’d told her to fuck off and spat in her face. But I wolfed the food down and got a really bad belly. She started asking me a load of questions about myself, so I told her what had happened with my old man, and she offered to take me home and let me sleep on her sofa for a few days while I decided what to do. Next thing I know, I’m chained up in a glass cage with no idea how I got there or where I was.’

  Tommy told him about running away after the argument with Danielle. Meeting Bella. Ending up at Thorndike House.

  ‘Same shit, different day,’ Olly said. ‘And now we’re all gonna die.’

  Tommy had no answer to that. Olly was right. It was just a matter of when and how.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Duggan was in a far better mood than he’d been in for weeks. Nowhere near his periodical states of euphoria, not even within spitting distance of his occasional bouts of contentment, but close enough to enjoy a glass of wine and a fine cigar.

  Number Nine was back where he belonged, Number Seven was finally facing the justice he deserved for his traitorous actions, and Bella was back safe and well from her mission to return equilibrium to Thorndike House.

  Of course, not all things were as he wished. It was a constant strain on him, both physically and emotionally, to try to keep the business running with only two boys and no driver. He was beginning to realise several of his clients were little more than narcissistic psychopaths who didn’t give a damn for his wellbeing or that of his staff.

  Least of all that self-important pig, Sir Bernard Clancy. It was as if the swine delighted in demanding services when he was well aware the stock had been radically depleted.

  His mobile rang three glasses into a particularly fine bottle of red. Duggan checked the screen. Clancy. Who else? ‘Sir Bernard, how are you?’

  ‘Never mind the formalities, I want to know how things stand?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘With the boy.’

  ‘It’s going well, Sir Bernard. Very well indeed.’

  ‘Don’t talk in riddles. Has he said anything?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Clancy sighed. ‘And?’

  ‘He jumped from the car because Number Seven told him you weren’t very nice to him.’

  ‘Piffle. The stupid boy’s a liar and a fantasist.’

  ‘I’m well aware of what he is, and you can rest assured he’s being dealt with as we speak.’

  ‘What about Nine’s memory?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Did he say anything incriminating to anyone?’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘The police.’ Clancy’s voice rose several notches. ‘His family.’

  Duggan took a sip of wine. Waited a few moments to answer. Let the old fart fret. ‘He hasn’t. Just a load of half-baked nonsense to the therapist and, as you know, he’s already been dealt with.’

  ‘I want to see the boy,’ Clancy said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To make sure he’s not hiding anything.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s wise, Sir Bernard. Anyway, Dean has assured me he knows nothing other than what’s already been revealed.’

  ‘I still want to speak to him.’

  Duggan took a deep breath and prayed to the god of patience to not let him lose his temper. ‘If you want my opinion, you’ll only drive him further into his shell.’

  ‘Nonsense. I’m more than capable of gaining information from a stupid boy. Its inherent in my DNA.’

  Along with stupidity. ‘Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll give you an update at the end of each day.’

  ‘I’m coming over.’ Clancy disconnected the call.

  Fuck! That was his evening ruined. He finished his wine and texted Bella to come to the lounge.

  Why couldn’t Clancy leave things alone? Stop meddling in his business. He didn’t go into parliament and tell them how to do things, even though it would be a drastic improvement on the rubbish that shower of incompetent fools came up with.

  Hear, hear! I completely agree with the right honourable gentleman.

  Duggan smiled. The voice in his head at least occasionally offered some light-hearted relief.

  Bella walked into the lounge dressed in a black silk dress. Her prosthetic boobs peeked out the top of the garment. ‘Yes, Master?’

  ‘Take a seat. Would you like a drink?’

  Bella sat on the settee. ‘No thanks, I’m going to meditate later.’

  ‘As you wish.’ He stood, poured himself a fourth glass of wine, and warmed himself by the fire. ‘We’ve got trouble.’

  ‘What sort of trouble?’

  ‘Balloon-shaped with a liking for cigars.’

  ‘Sir Bernard?’

  Duggan nodded. ‘He’s coming over.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To poke his nose in where it’s not wanted.’

  ‘Would you like me to put on something nice to distract him?’

  Duggan considered her offer. ‘No, don’t waste your time on that obnoxious pig.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Duggan shrugged. ‘I’m trying to think.’

  ‘I could kill Seven and Nine before he arrives.’

  ‘No. I want to watch them suffer first.’

  ‘Fair enough. We could lock Clancy in the basement with the boys. No one’s gonna come here looking for him, are they?’

  ‘And give him free rein to indulge in all his wildest fantasies?’

  ‘Not if we drug his drink. Give him enough sedatives to knock him out for a couple of days.’

  Duggan brightened. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’

  ‘Thank you, Master.’

  ‘Go and dress in something more practical, Bella. We don’t want you spoiling that lovely dress handling a dirty rhinoceros, do we?’

  Bella smiled. ‘Let me know when he arrives.’

  Duggan watched her saunter from the room. The dress clung provocatively to her body, accentuating her curves. It was fair to say a part of him loved Bella. Truly loved her. She was everything a man could want. Or a woman, for that matter. Obedient. Calm. Beautiful.

  His mind wandered back to the day he’d first met her. A scorching summer’s day over thirteen years ago. Bella was a young boy back then. A skinny kid hitchhiking along the Oxford bypass.

  He’d pulled onto the hard shoulder and wound down the passenger window. ‘Where you heading?’

  The kid had squinted at him. ‘London.’

  ‘That’s a long way. What’re you going there for?’

  ‘To get away.

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘Bit young to be going to London on your own, aren’t you? Where are your parents?’

  ‘At home.’

  ‘Aren’t they going to be worried about you?’

  He’d shrugged, bony shoulders poking through his thin tee-shirt. ‘Don’t care.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure they care about you.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  Duggan smiled. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Craig.’

  ‘Do you want to do a deal, Craig?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You come home with me for a while and you can tell me all about it. Then I’ll ring your parents and let them know.’

  ‘I don’t wanna see them.’

  ‘I understand. But nothing’s ever as bad as it seems. Tell you what, I’ll order a pizza when we get back to my place.’

  And so Crai
g had accepted his offer. Gone back to Thorndike House, eaten pizza, and never returned home.

  Duggan had liked Craig from the start. The kid had possessed balls. Nothing seemed to faze him. As the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, Duggan had begun the slow process of transforming Craig into Bella.

  Not physically. That would’ve been both too risky and illegal. Craig’s transformation had been purely mental. Duggan had learned from studying CIA mind control techniques, that in order to completely rebuild someone’s personality, you first had to break down the original.

  Sensory deprivation and traumatic punishments had, within a year, completely removed all traces of Craig. Kept in the glass cage, deprived of sleep for days on end, forced to watch barbaric films of torture taken from the dark web, Craig was soon what might be termed a non-person. A blank canvas. One which Duggan could rebuild into the perfect being.

  Within two years, Bella was fully operational. Programmed by hypnosis to respond to the song Karma Chameleon to adopt Bella’s personality, she fully believed her parents had died in a car accident, and she’d been sent to live with Granny Meredith and her dog, Murphy. But the old biddy had become too sick to look after her, and she’d had to go to a kid’s home. She’d run away, and Duggan had saved her from a life of prostitution.

  Bella was Duggan’s greatest achievement. He’d turned a lost, skinny boy into a self-confident girl in less than three years. If only all people were as malleable and compliant. There wasn't a single thing Bella wouldn’t do for him. She was his pride and joy, and he thanked the heavens every day for sending her to him. Or him to him, depending on which way you wanted to look at it.

  He thought about finishing the bottle of wine before Clancy arrived, but good sense told him he needed a relatively clear head to deal with the vulgar swine.

  He raised his glass. ‘To a future free of politicians.’

  Chapter Forty-Six