The Sorrow

by Azhar Amien

  Chapter 9: Blood In Petty Crime

  “The police have discovered the body of mob boss Victor Salvatore, who was shot dead in his own home late last night. The killer fired two bullets from close range. As of right now there are no suspects to the murder, and witnesses at Mr Salvatore’s estate failed to recall anything out of the ordinary. Eye witnesses recall that Mr Salvatore had a male visitor in the early hours of the night, but that he had been alive and well once the visitor had departed; alone in his office listening to the opera as he does nearly every night. There were no signs of forced entry, and he had been locked inside his office for hours before the body was discovered. Apparently we’re dealing with a killer who can walk through solid walls. We’ll have more on this bizarre story as it breaks.”

  I watched the news report with Sarah standing next to me. It had been running for hours. The internet was flooded with headlines about Victor Salvatore’s death. News websites, forums and social media were blazing. But none of the mobsters spoke a word. It was as though they were in shock. I had already been made to go with Sarah to Victor’s house to investigate my own crime. I participated where I could, but I barely had to act because there was nothing to go on.

  “Jack, the witnesses all say that someone visited Victor last night. He saw nobody else after that. The only problem is they all say that Victor was fine once the mystery man left. But it all sounds so strange. I mean who else could have killed him? He was shot from up close; the killer had been close enough to slap him by the looks of it.”

  I realised then that if I was to stay in the clear I had to be open with Sarah. I had a small confession to make and this lie would be pretty easy to swing in my favour. I tugged at her arm and pulled her into her office. I closed the door behind me and rehearsed the lie in my head.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I have something to tell you and you’re not going to like it.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “You might want to sit down,” I gestured at her chair.

  “Just tell me.”

  “I was the one who visited Victor Salvatore last night.”

  “You did what?”

  “Hey, easy. He was still alive listening to his opera crap by the time I had left.”

  “What the hell were you doing there?”

  I ran my hands through my hair and stared at the ground.

  “Jack?”

  “I had questions. I wanted to know about Kenway. I wanted to know about Jess. Hell, the guy invited me to his house for dinner when I first confronted him about it.”

  Sarah’s expression was somewhere in the confusion between sympathy and anger, “So what you’re telling me is that we really have nothing to go on here, and that after you left someone who can apparently walk through walls killed Victor without leaving a trace?”

  “That or we’re in a cheap horror movie.”

  “I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

  “I don’t know, Sarah. I don’t even know who would have the balls to kill him in the first place. Or why they’d even want to for that matter.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I shrugged, “He’s an old timer; basically retired. What would be the point?”

  We were quiet for a while. I then asked if I could be excused and made to leave.

  “Jack.”

  I turned around.

  “What’s going on with you?”

  I frowned, “What do you mean?”

  “Is there anything you’re not telling me?”

  “I’m in the mood for a Big Mac.”

  “Stop playing around.”

  “You’re a ray of sunshine today, Sarah.”

  “That’s getting annoying.”

  I worked my mind. There had to be a story I could tell her to give her something to mull over for a while. I didn’t know why she had a reason to be suspicious. But as if highlighting what I had become, a few seconds of thought brought a new lie I could spin. It was making me uncomfortable that I could lie to her so easily, but I didn’t have a choice.

  “Sarah, it’s just a thought, and I don’t even know if it’s worth saying out loud.”

  “What thought of yours could be worse than nothing? That’s what we have right now.”

  “Did you ever consider that maybe we’re dealing with...uh...a vigilante of sorts?”

  Sarah gawked at me.

  “Think about it, and I’m not just talking about Victor. Remember Hal Edwards? Major serial killer. He’s dead. On the same night there was Will Harding; a mole for the mob according to your text message. He’s dead too. Who exactly was that text message from? And what of Salvatore? One of the city’s biggest and oldest crime lords is now wiped out. Do you see? What if someone is trying to take the law into their own hands here? The progression says something by itself. First he, or she, kills a murderer, then a cop who is actually a mob informant and thirdly a crime lord. It’s almost as if our vigilante killer is getting more confident and chasing bigger fish.”

  It took a long while before Sarah said anything.

  “That sounds crazy, Jack.”

  “Too crazy for this city?”

  “I suppose not. I’m sorry, it’s a reasonable train of thought. It’s just...I don’t know. I don’t know what to make of something like that. We don’t have any proof that suggests all three of those murders are related in any way.”

  “No we don’t. But the murders just feel so close together. And they’ve all left no trace of an actual killer. All three could be professional hits if you think about it. Weren’t the same types of bullets used for each victim as well?”

  “They’re common bullets.”

  “Still. The exact same ammunition three times in a row?”

  There wasn’t much to say after that and so we sat in silence for a bit.

  “Didn’t you want to go somewhere?” Sarah asked eventually.

  I smiled, “I almost forgot.”

  She walked with me all the way down to my car, and I wasn’t sure why she’d taken the trouble to do it. Maybe she just wanted to get away from her office for those few minutes.

  “Are you okay, Sarah?”

  “Lately I don’t know how to answer that question, Jack.”

  “A ‘yes’ usually does the trick.”

  “Then yes.”

  “Don’t be like me. Only I get to be like me.”

  “Are you implying that you trademarked being facetious?”

  I laughed, “No, but seriously how are you holding up?”

  “Honestly? I feel like there’s a time bomb somewhere. It’s going to go off soon and I’m standing right in the middle of the blast radius.”

  “That’s morbid. And here I’m just thinking about a Big Mac.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re so funny, Jack. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “Just now.”

  Despite everything she smiled, and it made me smile too. “It’s good to see you like this. And thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

  I instinctively reached up to brush her hair, not quite knowing why I did that. She didn’t seem to know how to react to it and so she just smiled at me awkwardly.

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  “You off to get your junk food fix?”

  “You could say that.”

  I climbed into my car, started it and sped away. I watched Sarah disappear in my rear-view mirror.

  It scared me where my mind could take me once I allowed it enough freedom to wander. I had spent hours after Victor Salvatore’s death contemplating my next move, thinking of all the ways that I could proceed onto the next target. I had realised something about myself. When my mind was focused on Jess, the nightmares were dormant and I was in control. But when my daughter was not at the forefront of my thoughts, the pit reclaimed its hold. I sat on my couch staring at the table in front of me, which was filled with notes I had put together about my intended target. I didn’t have much information about them. That wasn’t entirely th
e truth however. It was more that I didn’t have anything I could have used. The police records had plenty on their personal lives and all their dead-end cases, but none of it was useful to me now apart from their living addresses.

  I had chosen Gregory Donovan as my next target. I had something of a plan after hours of thought. It was complex but it was doable. It started with the fact that I had seen his son Reece speaking to Victor Salvatore the day I had killed him. That gave me exactly the sort of alibi I needed in order to speak to Reece on official terms. I could spin it that he was one of the last people to have seen Victor before his death. Here being a cop would serve me well to get a meeting with Reece.

  I had made a promise to myself that I would stop making mistakes; cease to be weak. Gregory Donovan was not someone like Victor Salvatore and neither would he be as lax. From what I knew about him, which was very little to begin with, he was ruthless. Stories of harsh domestic abuse, a hatred of cops, a violent temper and a body trail went around. That was the kind of guy he was. Nothing that had been able to damn him yet, but it told me what I needed to know: that I couldn’t simply get an audience with him by walking through the front door. More significantly I could not get him alone. He wouldn’t be as hospitable as Victor. He’d have no time for the likes of me.

  And so I would use his son. There could be no more holding back. I had to be willing to risk everything for Jess. Otherwise I was no good as a man. I was no good as a father. Maybe this time I did not have to kill anyone. Maybe this time I could get what I wanted by deception and playing it smart. I couldn’t risk getting my cover blown just yet. I still had surprise on my side. I still had that advantage. And now I had a plan. It was extremely risky and plenty could go wrong, but it was crazy enough to work. I had ridden my luck so far and I had made a promise. Jess was all that mattered to me. And this time would be different. I was no longer the same. I had changed.

  I glanced at my gun. I now truly understood how men could kill. It was something you just got used to. Like most things it simply took practice. And somewhere along the line the more you did it the easier the choice became. Now it just seemed like something I had to do, and little more. I realised that I had often spent more energy rationalising why I had to kill someone rather than feeling anything after I actually did. Was I emotionally dead? I barely felt these days. Most of the time I was either numb or empty - or a healthy mix of both. Was this the place that all killers reached when murder became easy? Or was it just because the men I had killed had all deserved to die? Was it that simple? Could I let myself down easy with that thought alone? Or was I crazy not to feel regret and horror for what I’d done?

  I was annoyed at myself for over-thinking it. People liked to make rules; liked to generalise a whole laundry list of things that didn’t make sense. They did it to establish some kind of order. But there’s only one truth. The world is cruel, and filled with random injustice, I thought. It was chaos in its purest form. It’s evident in so many ways. Sometimes people were so fragile that they fell, they broke and they snapped easier than twigs. Other times people were resilient and survived heartbreak, war, and disease. They liked to say that it was survival of the fittest. But that was just another “rule” made up to make sense of it all. The reality was today I was standing, but tomorrow I could fall. The only choice I had was whether or not I was going to get back up again after I did. That had nothing to do with being the fittest. But it had everything to do with having a reason to carry on. Mine was Jess. It was that simple. I would not stop until I found her, and I would no longer hesitate to do whatever was necessary. Nothing would stop me. I had learned one thing: you were only done once you were dead.

  I sat back and drowned myself in thought. I put the last pieces of my plan together. I had the ski mask. I had my black gloves. I had a change of clothes. I had both my Beretta and police-issued Glock. I had my ghost mobile phone. I also had my real phone this time. My paranoia of someone monitoring me was still there, and taking the phone with me would show that I was going around and about. Finally I had a little something that I had picked up from the pharmacy on the way home. My plan was a little on the extreme side, but it was meticulous enough to work if I played my hand. I gathered up everything from the table and set myself on the path to Reece Donovan.

  It was more difficult than I had thought it would be to track the kid down. He was like a glorified errand boy never staying in one place too long. I had been tailing him for a while now, watching him drive around in his fancy Corvette, running his charm on girls and doing a bunch of chores I didn’t care about. I hardly suspected that he had the skills of a man like Victor Salvatore, so I wasn’t worried about him picking up on the fact that I was tailing him. A general rule for spoiled rich kids: carefree and overly reliant on their fathers. Yes I was generalising. Sue me. I just had to put up with it until he actually took a breather somewhere. It was still early in the afternoon and I was patient.

  The kid eventually stopped at a restaurant where he appeared to be meeting friends. This was as good as I was going to get. I closed my eyes and breathed out deeply, preparing myself for all that was to come. It was going to be what they called a long con, but if all went well then the kid wouldn’t be harmed and I would get what I wanted from his dad. I got out of my car and stashed the packet with the things I had brought in the boot of my car. I slipped my hands into my pockets and advanced towards the restaurant. I had been wrong before. I had thought that being a cop was useless. But it put the law on my side. It gave me the liberty to use the system and easily twist it to meet my ends. The kid was going to find out what that meant.

  I made my way over to his table, fitting my badge so that it was plainly visible. At his table were three pretty girls and another guy. The cynic in me said that his money had attracted those girls, but I dismissed the thought. I had only come here for him.

  “Reece Donovan,” I called.

  They all turned to look at me, but their demeanours noticeably changed once they saw my badge sticking out from my belt.

  “Yeah?” he answered.

  “I’m Detective Jack Mercer and I’m here to talk to you about the murder of Victor Salvatore,” I said, flashing my badge to all of them.

  I folded my arms as the expected reactions ran their course.

  “What the hell would I know about that?” Reece half shouted.

  “Oh, I don’t know, probably just the fact that you spoke to him on the day of his death. That could make for quite an interesting story.”

  “Bullshit,” Reece said immediately. His voice betrayed his lie.

  “Would you like me to give you the name of the restaurant you met him at, and the time? I could also tell you what you were wearing on that day. Lying to a police officer is one of the many forms of stupid.”

  “This is harassment! You can’t do this to him,” cried one of the girls.

  I glared at her, “Should I hand you a dictionary so you can look up the real meaning of the word? While I’m at it I’d be happy to explain to you the basic mechanics of the law, how I’m well within my rights here and how you’re just a clueless kid, princess.”

  “Don’t talk to her like that, you old bitch!” growled the other moron at the table, and he stood up in haste. The tough guy actually believed that he’d intimidate me. He was easily readable; stupid enough to get goaded by a five year old.

  I laughed, “I’d insult you too but you don’t look bright enough to notice.”

  That got him angry.

  “Easy man,” Reece said, “He’s just being a dick. Alright what do you want to know?”

  “Not here, Reece. You’re coming with me.”

  “The hell I am.”

  “Fuck off! Do you have any idea who his dad is, loser?” one of the other girls protested.

  I was losing patience, “Look there’s an easy way here and there’s a hard way. I get what I want in the end so it’s just a matter of how much shit you want to deal with before then.�
��

  Reece looked livid and he glared at me along with everybody else at the table.

  “What’s it going to be, kid? Want to walk out of here in handcuffs or on your own two feet?”

  He threw his hands up, “Fine! I’ll go with you. Asshole.”

  “There’s a good boy.”

  He got out of his seat, apologised to his friends and I directed him with my hand. I turned around to face the others. I reached into my pocket and took out a blank sheet of paper and a pen.

  “I want you, bestie, to write down your cell number,” I said pointing at the guy, “In case I have any follow-up questions.”

  “Whatever,” he responded and I could hear him cursing under his breath as he wrote it.

  I took the page from him, “Forgive me if I don’t take things from kids at face value,” I plugged in and dialled the number on my phone. Once I was satisfied that it was actually his mobile phone that rang I stuffed the page down my breast pocket and began walking away with Reece. But I thought that I would have one last quip before I left. I turned back to the kids. I had only contempt for them. Many kids of today had no respect irrespective of whether I goaded them or not.

  “If you ask me the gene pool could use a little chlorine.”

  I handled Reece out of the restaurant and ignored the onlookers. I instructed him to get into the passenger seat of my car. He looked like he wanted to mouth me off again, so I suggested that he could go in handcuffs if he continued to irritate me.

  “I’m calling my father,” he threatened.

  “Sure you can. Once we get to the station.”

  So far so good. As I drove I concentrated on what I had to do now. I had to get this right. Soon enough I saw the little shop that I wanted to be at. I had scouted it out while tailing him and it looked like the right place to do it.

  “You hungry?” I asked.

  “I was about to eat before you fucked that up, genius, so what do you think?”

  “I’m stopping here for a moment. I’ll get you something.”

  “Whatever.”

  I parked the car deliberately facing away from the shop on the curb, exited and went to the boot to retrieve my packet. I entered the shop and walked straight up to the person at the cash register, who most likely owned the small place.

  “Listen I’m a police officer,” I said. I showed the man my badge, which had become my free pass these days, “And I need to know if I could use your office for a moment.”

  The cashier looked a little confused at first, but then realised I was referring to the door behind him. He nodded, opened it for me and I walked around the counter and went inside to a very small room with nothing but a desk, stationery and a few boxes and papers piled around. I closed the door behind me. It was time. I stripped off my clothes and took out the spares I had brought. Almost the entire set was black, which included a top, boots, leather jacket and gloves. Only the combat pants were a dark grey. I placed the ski mask onto the ground next to me. I slipped my Glock into the jacket pocket and retrieved my Berretta. I wasn’t taking any chances. I not only had to look completely different, but even my gun could not be the one I had had on my hip when I had confronted Reece at the restaurant. Most people would probably have called me paranoid or OCD, but I considered all possibilities no matter how unlikely. And this was only the beginning of my plan.

  I shoved the clothes I had been wearing into the packet and put my badge on the inside of my jacket. The clothes were the only things I didn’t mind leaving behind. I made sure nothing suspicious was visible on me and went out the door. I told the cashier that I was leaving the clothes I had come in with in a packet in his office, and I would be back for it in the next few hours. He nodded to say that he understood. I thanked him. Now came the difficult part. I exited the store and went up against the wall out of sight of the car.

  I wasn’t planning on taking Reece Donovan to the station. I had something else in mind. Unfortunately I didn’t have fiction on my side. I couldn’t simply knock the kid out with one strike like magic. Head injuries were a dangerous game. Just the wrong amount of force could cause concussion, haemorrhaging or even delayed complications that cropped up later in time. I was much stronger than him; I didn’t want to hurt the kid. If I recalled correctly from training a very long time ago, there were multiple methods to incapacitate someone, but it didn’t work like in the books and movies. People didn’t just peacefully go to sleep for a convenient number of hours and wake up only a bit groggy. At most it was seconds or minutes that they were subdued for.

  It could also get ugly fast. The human body could be quite brittle. I could easily kill him with the wrong kind of blow to the head. A simple twist of his body or miscalculated strike and the kid could be facing brain damage. You couldn’t just knock someone out with a gun either. It wasn’t so clean and easy. When I had struck Hal Edwards he had remained conscious, but he’d been so out of it and hurt that I had been able to man-handle him as though he were a child. Striking the head when you had the strength and training that I did was potentially lethal. Complications ranging from trauma to the brain to injuries to the spinal cord were plenty. I knew that I was thinking of the worst case scenarios, but high-impact blows could result in fractures to facial bones, compression injuries or damage to the brain stem. Of course that wasn’t counting the issues which could arise from the shock alone.

  If I couldn’t physically incapacitate Reece, the bright idea that would jump into everyone’s minds would be something like chloroform. A sedative. The TV cliché of lacing a napkin with chloroform and shoving it in someone’s face for a few seconds did not quite translate to real life. Sure it could work, but it didn’t act as fast nor was it as clean - or safe. The chemicals had to pass from the rag or napkin to the victim’s lungs and then to the blood and finally to the brain. While this process did in fact take a few seconds, the victim would have had to have breathed in the fumes for maybe two minutes, in addition to the fact that the concentration had to be right. I didn’t know the correct measurements and I couldn’t exactly go up to Reece, ask him if the rag in my hand smelled like chloroform and then waited for him to follow my instructions and take deep breaths while counting back from ten. Not even he was that dumb. And I was far too exposed here. I needed to be faster.

  Of course I could be more forceful or subtle than that. There was the theory that the surprise of having chloroform shoved in your face or being sneaked up on could cause the victim to take a deep breath from gasping. But because life was overly complex and there were endless variables, there was always the possibility that the victim could hold their breath after that and not get enough of the dose. The struggle could attract attention. And there was also the fact that chloroform was toxic and dangerous, and could cause fatal cardiac arrhythmia if the wrong dosage was given to the right person. I was obsessing over the worst case scenario again, but it wasn’t smart to play with fire. The obvious limitation was also that it wasn’t available to just anyone who wanted to buy it. And I did not want to harm the kid with anything that could cause permanent damage or put his life under major threat. Especially if I did not fully understand the weapon I would be using.

  That left me with only one thing: fear. It was a good motivator. And few things put the fear of God into someone like having a suppressed gun shoved into their face. It screamed out to those who didn’t have much knowledge about suppressors, which was most people, that not a single person would hear them die. I just had to be quick, efficient and not give him any time to make sense of the situation. I eyed my surroundings very carefully. I had chosen a good spot. The people that were here were few and far between, and none of them gave me any kind of look. Despite that I hugged the wall and reached for the ski mask. I curled my fingers around the handle of my Beretta and screwed on the suppressor. As I did it I turned my back to the world to cover up what I was doing. It was go time. Lights. Camera. Action. I slipped the ski mask on and rushed over to the passenger side of
the car, ripping open the door. Reece jumped in fright and stared at me, fear immediately visible in his eyes as he saw the suppressor attached to my gun and my menacing appearance.

  “Get out of the car, prick!” I shouted.

  “What the hell! Do you have any idea-”

  I violently grabbed him and pulled him out, “I know exactly who your daddy is, little bitch.”

  I jabbed him in the side with my fist and he groaned in pain, protesting as I dragged him over to the boot of the car. That would be easiest. I wrenched it open. I had purposefully left it unlocked and slightly ajar when I had retrieved my packet earlier. I held him by the throat as I forced him against it. There was nothing in it that he could use as a weapon.

  “Holy shit man this is a cop’s car! What do you want? Is it money?”

  “Fuck the cops! Get in or I’ll shoot you in the leg and throw you in anyway.”

  I manhandled him inside the boot of the car and shut it over him, ignoring his screams and protests. It had been easy. I walked over to the driver’s seat and reached for the door. I saw two people in my peripheral vision pointing and staring and another few running. I didn’t care. They wouldn’t do anything. I had once read a famous story in psychology of how a woman had been beaten to death in her apartment late at night. Despite her screams that had went on for hours and the fact that there had been dozens of witnesses in the complex who had heard her struggles throughout the night, none of them had went to help or had even called the police - until much later when she was already dead of course. People didn’t get involved. They watched and left it to everyone else. They all assumed someone else would do it. And in this city getting involved in mob affairs was suicide. That made it easier for me to act without fearing a heroic citizen.

  I climbed into the car and sped away. Now came the hard part. I reached into my pocket and fished out the page I had instructed Reece’s friend to write his number on. I tossed it onto the passenger seat and hit redial on my phone. I chose the friend’s number from my recent calls list and waited for the line to connect. I heard the guy’s voice on the other end and immediately recognised it from the table.

  “I’m glad I took your number after all. Listen your little shit of a friend bailed on me before I could get the chance to speak to him. I stopped at a store to get him something to eat and there you go I get back and he’s gone. Any idea where he is?”

  “What? Why would he run, man? Fuck me I don’t know!”

  “Figures. If you see him tell him that I still want to have that chat with him. And it’s a dick move to run from a police officer. He won’t win any points for that stunt.”

  I ended the call. My name had been cleared. I didn’t care what they thought had happened; whether they assumed he ran or whether it came out that there were witnesses today who saw Reece getting kidnapped by what appeared to be a mob hit - it would only lead to one result. I had set things in motion. I only had to wait for information about Reece’s disappearance to reach his father. That wouldn’t take long. His friend would tell the others in the group, and when Reece inevitably didn’t show up anywhere later today his father would get wind of it. However I wanted news of the fact that I had taken Reece in for a police interview about Victor Salvatore’s murder to reach Gregory. Reece’s friends would oblige with that when they complained about me. And Gregory would phone me in a blazing anger regarding his son, which meant I’d have all of his attention and cooperation. But it wasn’t either of those that I wanted. It was his obedience.

  In order to acquire that I’d have to do what was necessary and not be held back. I pulled up at my own home. I didn’t know any secluded place that I could use and nor did I have the time to locate one. But it wouldn’t be a problem. Reece didn’t know where I lived, and a blindfold made everything easier. Not to mention that there were few problems duct tape couldn’t solve. I took a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, and then I opened the boot. I kept the possibility open in my mind that the kid would try giving me a kick with everything he had as soon as I opened it. I casually stepped out of the way, but it turned out that he wasn’t that brave.

  He began kicking up a fuss, so I shut him up with my gun and proceeded to tape his mouth with the duct tape I’d left in the boot. I tied the scarf I’d left as well twice around his eyes, and once I was satisfied that he could not see I dragged him hurriedly inside, ignoring the pit’s welcoming pangs of depression. I shoved him towards the washroom and got him onto his knees, where I then did as much as I could to tie his hands and his feet and make sure that he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Now came the part where I actually prevented him from doing exactly that. Reece screamed as I ripped the duct tape off his mouth.

  “Please don’t kill me!” he cried out.

  I knew that I wasn’t going to kill him, but he didn’t. He was just leverage; a chess piece. He had a role to play and I had the tools to manipulate him. At the end of the whole charade, when I let him go, he would run his mouth about me until the sun set. Of course he didn’t know who I was, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t feed him something to take back to the mob. And the message would be fear.

  “Listen closely kid,” I began, making sure my voice was unrecognisable, “The only way that you’re getting out of this alive or without any broken bones is if you obey every instruction that I give you. And if you would be so kind as to take a message back to your father.”

  “Alright, alright! Whatever you want just please don’t hurt me...”

  I bent down close to him so that he could feel my presence right beside him.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  He stammered something. I needed to encourage him.

  “Answer my question!” I roared and struck his head with my hand. It was just a harmless slap. Honest.

  “No! I don’t know who the fuck you are!”

  I laughed, “I’m the man who killed Victor Salvatore.”

  Reece went rigid. If I didn’t know any better I would have said that he was close to urinating himself. He whimpered like a child. A part of me felt bad for frightening a stupid kid, but fear was an addictive power. It got cooperation and forced people to stop being too big for their diapers. It got results. Theatricality was what I needed to make an impression here. It was how the mob did it, and it was effective.

  “Oh my God, I’m begging you, don’t kill me!”

  “You’re going to tell your father. You’re going to tell anyone who cares to listen to you. I am reaping this city of the vile, disgusting animals who contaminate it. You tell them all that they’re next.”

  I slapped the duct tape back over his mouth and he pleaded some more. I rose from the ground and swiftly exited the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I sank into my living room couch. It had become my thought companion. The fiction of the vigilante killer was my way of attempting to put some fear into the mob. Jack Mercer was still just a cop to them, but the man who had killed Victor Salvatore was someone else entirely.

  The next stage of my plan was malignant. I had to be precise and careful. But I first needed to wait for Gregory to reach out to me to confront me about why I had tried to take his son in for questioning. He’d blame me for losing him of course, but it would all allow me to get an audience with him. I needed his attention. And when I did get to meet with him I would have to have his son as leverage. I wasn’t naive enough to believe that a simple kidnapping would put any kind of fear into a man like Gregory Donovan, especially if he was as dangerous as his reputation suggested. He’d probably suspect that I was just another asshole who was too much of a coward to actually harm his son. That wouldn’t make him worry about Reece’s safety. A kidnapping was child’s play, because regardless of my terms he knew that Reece would not be touched. I smiled. The time for mistakes was long over. I would play these bastards at their own game.

  I had to make Gregory Donovan truly believe that his son was at risk. And that would take deception. Authentic deception, but tr
ickery nonetheless. There was no way that Gregory wasn’t attached to his son given how spoiled he was. He most likely wanted his son to enter the family business when he was ready as well. It was the mob after all, and no matter what kind of man you were, when your child was in danger only the parent remained. It was biological. It was uncontrollable. And where the mob was concerned it was also a point of pride. Gregory would not stand for it. An ordinary kidnapping would not work. If I showed him a picture of his son tied up he’d laugh in my face. I had to show him that I wasn’t playing around. I had to show him that I meant it.

  I placed the last items I had acquired for my plan onto the table: boxes of aspirin. My heart hammered as I considered what I was about to do. I refused to let the pit destroy my resolve. I thought of Jess. Everything that I had to do, no matter how cruel or violent, was for her. It was to save my daughter. That was all the reason that I could hold onto. Everybody else to me was just a chess piece I would use for whatever purpose I needed. I didn’t want to hurt the kid. But there was nothing that I would not do for my daughter. And the only way that it was going to work was if I went through with it.

  Aspirin poisoning was a volatile science. Like most overdoses it could be acute or chronic. A single overdose was enough to cause acute poisoning, which was the result that I wanted. Acute overdose, for my intended purposes, was safe. The mortality rate was as low as two percent if I recalled correctly from my research. I had chosen aspirin because it was easy to acquire. I was no chemist or botanist who could craft up some complicated alternative.

  However aspirin overdoses potentially had serious consequences, with the possibility of death naturally being one of them. But that was extreme. I wasn’t going to get to that level. There were many common symptoms of aspirin poisoning when intoxication was mild or moderate such as nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain, lethargy, a ringing in the ears referred to as tinnitus, dizziness, headache, hyperventilation, fever and tachycardia, which was an excessively rapid heartbeat. Only God knew how I had remembered all of that. I guessed that I had been more highly-strung about this than I had originally anticipated.

  I did want to avoid the harsh symptoms. All that I really needed was the nausea and the vomiting to make Reece’s suffering look authentic enough. But I was mindful of the worst case scenarios. The most severe of symptoms, as a result of high levels of intoxication, included delirium, hallucinations, seizures, coma, hyperthermia or excessively rapid breathing. There were potentially lethal effects as well, such as hypoglycaemia, which was an unusually low concentration of potassium or glucose in the blood, or cerebral edema, which would mean an excess build up of fluid in the brain that could lead to respiratory arrest. I raked my hands through my hair and forced myself to stop considering the worst of it all. I wasn’t planning for Reece to get a severe overdose. I wasn’t planning for him to die. It was enough to just be alert to what could happen, so that I could recognise it if it did.

  I knew the correct dosage. I supposed that the internet’s sources could have got their information from anywhere, but I felt that I had read enough. I went over the figures again, consulting my hand-written notes on the table. A mild or acutely toxic dose was around one hundred and fifty milligrams per kilogram of body mass. On the other hand moderate toxicity occurred at doses of up to three hundred milligrams per kilogram, while severe toxicity occurred between three hundred and five hundred milligrams. You would be entering lethal territory once you exceeded five hundred milligrams. With all the information that I had I knew that I still had to be extremely careful. I would only need one day, so there was minimal risk of any long term effects.

  I put my head in my hand and spun my phone around on the table. While I waited to get in contact with Gregory, the problem I had yet to address was the method of delivering the overdose to Reece. I had the option of dissolving the aspirin in glasses of water I gave to him over the next few hours, which was probably easiest. But there was also injection to consider. I would have to do some more reading to be sure, although I had to move quickly. I steeled myself, and got to work.

  Gregory Donovan was an intimidating man. He was much younger than Victor. He was lean and had short sandy hair. But his eyes were cold and blue, his posture unsettling and his thin moustache finished the look. He stared me down as I took a seat opposite him. This was an easy place to talk; public and open. I sat back and looked him in the eye.

  “Jack Mercer. I know you. You’re somewhat of a celebrity now aren’t you? The big hoo-ha with the weapons and that nasty business with your family.”

  He had a very pretentious, but confident and rugged way of speaking. It got on my nerves.

  “But enough with the pleasantries. I want to know what made you think you had the authority to try and talk to my son about something as fucked up as the murder of Victor Salvatore. And more than that you seem to have misplaced Reece. How exactly did you manage that? You better start talking if you want to keep breathing. That’s my son.”

  I ignored his threat, “I saw Reece talking to Victor the day he was killed. I was doing my job.”

  Gregory looked confused, “You’re just brilliant, aren’t you? I sent him to Victor so the boy could hopefully learn a thing or two about professionalism. Bless that old sport. He was traditional but he knew what’s what. Good man. Hard to come by these days. But you still haven’t answered my question: where is my son?”

  Enough small talk. It was time to get to business. It was nearing early evening. The sun would set in an hour or so. My heart was thundering against my chest, my palms were sweating and I was doing everything I could to keep myself together. This was one of the most dangerous men in the city. I exhaled. I just had to stick to my plan. I was in control.

  “Let’s cut the bullshit. I saw maybe four of your dogs on my way to this seat. You probably have a few more than that waiting around here. But that’s not going to scare me. You see I didn’t lose your son.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me as he twirled his wine glass in his hand.

  “I took him.”

  His glass cracked in an instant and a vein bulged in his head, “I’m sorry you what?”

  “How much do you love your son, Donovan?”

  He rose to his feet, violently shaking the table. The fury in his eyes would have been enough to cripple most men.

  “What kind of fucking idiot are you?”

  I glared at him; I felt the beast within me spring to life right then when I needed it most.

  “Sit down, shut up and listen. You might want to pick your words and actions very carefully because your son doesn’t have much time left.”

  His anger dissolved and I saw what I wanted to see: the fear of a parent. That fear was sweet.

  “What did you say?” he said and slowly sank into his chair. He held his hand up, most likely signalling to his men to stand down.

  I reached into my breast pocket, took out my mobile phone and brought up the image I wanted. I tossed the phone at his end of the table. He picked it up and gasped. The terror was so easily readable on his face it was tangible. Right now he was seeing a picture of his son laying square on the floor and white as a sheet with a pile of his own vomit next to him. Reece’s mouth was lopsided, his eyes blindfolded and there was blood on his lips and chin. Alright I had fabricated the blood. That had been easy. Corn syrup with a few tweaks. Gregory Donovan did not utter a word as he stared at the picture.

  “You must be wondering what I did to your son. I’ll give you a hint: poison. It’s a funny thing. Do you know how many variations of poison there are out there? You get drugs and chemicals and I’m not even talking about the mean things like cyanide and mercury. You get all kinds of plants and even animals. Food too. No really, raw kidney beans can even be toxic would you believe that? But here’s a little something you’ll be able to understand. Some poisons are harder to detect and diagnose than others. And who knows what I used on him? Is it lethal? Is it fast-acting? How much time does the kid have? Y
ou could get him to a hospital and I have no doubt that they’ll figure out what to do, but that will take time. Time your son may not have. And of course you don’t even know where he is. But I happen to know exactly what’s wrong with him, and I have the cure for it.”

  I let all of that sink in. His eyes looked glassy. His mouth twitched.

  “Right now I am the only person on earth who can save your son in time.”

  “You sick son of a bitch! I’ll put you in the ground for what you’ve done! You’re dead, Mercer. I can promise you that!”

  “You make the mistake of thinking that I still care about my own life!” I spat.

  I had him. And he knew it too. He couldn’t kill me without condemning his son.

  “And just in case you think you’re pretty smart that you’re going to kill me after you get your son back...” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my secondary phone. I pressed the red stop button, “I recorded our entire conversation here. Congratulations, asshole, you swore to murder a cop. A little editing and I have a real threat over here without the small technicality involving your son. It would be the word of a dead hero cop over that of a despicable tyrant.”

  He watched as I sent the audio clip to some number. I had just forwarded it to my wife’s phone at home. He didn’t know that. But the message was clear. I had a back up of the audio clip. The look Gregory gave me then was one of pure loathing.

  “You must think you’re one hell of a genius, don’t you? Thought of everything, hmm?”

  “The word is thorough.”

  “Alright you want to negotiate like men? What do you want, huh?”

  I breathed in slowly. I was calling the shots now.

  “Not here. At your place tonight. I don’t want your apes around. And we have delicate matters to discuss you and I.”

  He was outraged, “Tonight? My son-”

  “Will be kept alive,” I cut across him, “You have my word on that. And for now that’s just what you’ll have to take.”

  I saw sweat trickle down Gregory’s forehead.

  “I want your house empty. Send all your men away. Now you give me the address, and I walk away from here unharmed. You call anyone and I will know. If you don’t follow my instructions to the letter your son dies. It’s that simple.”

  “Fine, tonight then!”

  He scribbled his address down and handed it to me. I had one last thing to say. I let my voice turn cold; fuelled by the real agony that I had.

  “Take it from me. There is nothing you could do to me or to anyone I even remotely care about that could come close to the pain of losing your child.”

  With that I got up, retrieved my phone and ignored my wobbling legs as I briskly strode off. I was anxious, my mind half expecting a bullet or a knife in my back. But nothing came. I made it to my car, started it and just drove. I mentally prepared myself for tonight. So far my con was working out just fine. Reece was alright for now but his condition would worsen without medical help. Now that Greg was onboard I had to dispose of Reece outside of a hospital just before I made my way to Greg’s home. I was sure the mob would find out soon enough that the kid was there, but by the time they did I’d already have Greg alone right where I wanted him to be without access to a mobile phone or any of his men. I just prayed that he had followed my instructions, but something told me that he would. His orders would keep his men away.

  I raced home genuinely concerned about Reece. He was in danger now. I had made sure that he was well enough to be on his own before I had left. I had untied his hands, removed his blindfold and left food and water. He was still locked up in that bathroom, so I had to get him to a hospital as quickly as I could. With the blindfold on of course, as he couldn’t see where he had come from. I reached my home, slipped on the ski mask and I was no longer Jack Mercer.

  Gregory Donovan had kept his word. I had surveyed his house from the outside. I had been thorough in making sure that there weren’t any signs of life in the immediate area. Once I satisfied my concerns, I began my walk up to his home; another lavish mansion that reeked of overindulgence. Greg had been inviting enough to leave his front door unlocked after he had buzzed me in from the gate. He was waiting for me in his lounge in front of a fire, already nursing a glass of alcohol. His face drew on a contempt expression when he saw me.

  “Want a drink?” he said, but his expression told me it wasn’t really an offer.

  “So you can poison me too? No thanks,” I said.

  His mouth twitched.

  “You got me here so what happens next in your little vendetta? How do I know my son is okay?”

  I sat down on a comfortable white sofa and faced him with a huge smile on my face. I couldn’t help it.

  “And just what is so funny?”

  “I lied to you. I never had the cure.”

  I took a moment to enjoy the look of terror on his face.

  “And your son was never poisoned.”

  He went rigid.

  “Well technically he was intoxicated. Nothing life threatening, mind you, just an aspirin overdose.”

  Greg launched himself off his seat with a violent growl, but in a flash I had my gun out and aimed at his heart. The sight of the suppressor stopped him cold.

  “I can kill you just as easily as I killed Victor Salvatore.”

  Greg’s mouth dropped open and he ran his hand through his hair.

  “That was you? You’re psychotic! Why are you doing this?”

  He slumped back down on his seat; his face white.

  “I want information.”

  “What?”

  “Who murdered my family?” I shouted.

  “Why the hell should I know?”

  “Lie to me again and I’ll make sure your son dies this time!”

  He held up his hands in protest, “Look, Jack, I had nothing to do with your family alright?”

  I couldn’t stop the disappointment from stirring inside me. But I still had questions.

  “What do you know about the weapons shipment?”

  Greg massaged his temples, “Only that it was most likely someone else’s shit.”

  “Give me a real answer or you’re going to be in a lot of pain.”

  “Cut the threats. Fine. Look there’s been tension brewing between us big boys for a while now. Everybody has their own way of running things in this city but everybody is also in charge, know what I’m saying? Heads clash. Opinions differ. Dicks get measured. My guess is that someone wanted to gear his boy scouts out with some real firepower in case things got messy, which they often do in this line of business.”

  “I thought it would be something like that.”

  “What else could it be? They were guns, genius, not fucking nukes. I don’t know who it is that brought them in, but it certainly wasn’t me.”

  “And why should I believe you?”

  “I’m a man of simple pleasures, Jack.”

  I aimed my gun between his eyes.

  “I’m going to ask you a question and if you lie to me or act like I’m crazy I’m going to kill you.”

  “You don’t need to convince me anymore of that fact.”

  I cocked the gun.

  “Relax.”

  “Where is my daughter?”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m going to count to three and you’re getting one in the leg.”

  “Alright! What the fuck is going through your head? It was all over the news that she died, Jack.”

  “That’s what I thought too, seeing as how her body was left in my own house. Three weeks after that I got a call from her. It lasted just a few seconds, but it was her voice. I know she’s alive.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but you need to pay a visit to the loony bin.”

  And right then the anger burst free. How I had managed to subdue it for so long I did not know. I launched myself from the seat and before Greg could react I grabbed him by the neck and pulled him to his feet. I pressed the barrel o
f the suppressor to his temple.

  “What the hell do you want from me?”

  A vein in my neck throbbed. I saw red. I no longer recognised myself when the anger took hold. Jack Mercer disappeared. And the beast within me became my real face.

  “What do I want? Tell me can you turn back time?”

  “What?”

  “Answer me!” I screamed.

  “No...”

  “Can you give me my wife back?”

  I began to crush his neck. Much harder than I had anticipated I would. He gasped and began to choke.

  “Can you tell me where my daughter is?”

  He did not answer. I eyed a door next to the stairs that led to the second floor. It would probably take me to a basement of sorts. That would be ideal. I pulled him toward it while ignoring his protests. I did not know or understand what had come over me. I could not control it. My mind emotionally justified it that I would use him to get information about the rest of the mob. I had already come this far. Torturing him further wasn’t out of the question. As I harshly pulled Greg towards the door I realised something about myself. Something I had always known was there, but I had kept it subdued; asleep. I had never been brave enough to face up to it. Until now.

  It was a terrible truth, but as I gave in to the vicious bloodlust roaring within me, I came to terms with it. I enjoyed power. Perhaps it was being stepped on my whole life. Perhaps it was that as a cop I had always been left feeling like the wimpy kid who ended up on the floor covered in his own vomit while the bigger guys stood there and mocked. In some ways I admired the power these bastards had. Maybe it was all just because I had finally lost it. But I didn’t care. I had it a taste for it now.

  Greg was yelling at me, ordering me not go down the stairs. The door was locked. I assessed it in a moment. It wasn’t reinforced or thick. It was highly possible to kick down a door, but it required technique and strength, and the right kind of door. Certain doors asked for different methods, but knowing what you were doing or even just using the right amount of power and hitting the right spot could get results. Summoning my rage I kicked at it just below the doorknob, applying enough pressure to break bone. The door burst open in a rush of splintered wood and dust, and I felt the vibration travel up my leg. I was in. I shoved him down the stairs. There’d be no risk of anyone hearing anything down in the basement. I hit the lights on the wall and pushed Greg to the centre of the room.

  A hideous stench burned instantly through my nose. I gagged. I froze. I almost dropped my gun. My legs went weak. My heart stopped. Against the dirty, grey walls, in tall cages, were people. Black men with ugly, tattered clothes. They had the eyes of lifeless men. They were battered and bruised. Some looked undernourished. Some looked muscular. They had chains on their ankles and collars around their necks. Buckets for toilets. Dog bowls on the ground. Their hands curled around the bars of their cages as they processed the scene in front of them. In seconds I had been ripped away from the world, and thrust into madness.

  The only conclusion to make was that they had been stripped of all freedom, beaten and taken in, all control of their lives swept away like a rug underneath their feet. They were like slaves again. I felt as though I had stepped into a different era. I noticed the bruises on their knuckles and all over their bodies. I felt worse than sick. Were they being made to fight each other? One man was sprawled across the floor of the cage with blood leaking out of his mouth. Another began to plead with me.

  They were all terrified of Gregory Donovan. Terrified of me. That much was obvious. I could see it in their eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for this. I remembered Victor Salvatore’s words, as clear as the darkness I had become accustomed to, playing in my mind. “They’re not people like you and me, Jack. They’re fucking animals.” In that moment I finally understood. I stared at Greg, who had risen to his feet.

  “Like what you see?” he said, “Hooray for you. You caught me. I keep these niggers here as my playthings and make them brawl for me and my guests’ entertainment. I confess. What now? You’re no cop. You can’t fucking arrest me with a straight face. You got nothing.”

  All the pain, all the violence and all the terror - it all had a source: men like him. Men like Gregory Donovan. As I saw the horror in front of me, I finally realised that the police would never win. Sarah would never win. There was only one language that these men understood. Only a fool could believe that it was possible to tame a wolf. What I saw before me was what men were capable of. God didn’t lock these men in cages. Fate didn’t condemn them to a horrible life. God observed in sadness as his creations gave in to their darkness. And the Devil grinned as men did his bidding. I knew the truth then. Evil could be shown no mercy. It could not be tolerated. It had to be destroyed.

  “What the fuck are you going to do?” Greg shouted.

  I could see him reaching for a metal pipe. There was only one way to end it all. The beast screamed its command at me and I knew that it was right. I would never find my daughter if I was weak; if I allowed this to go on. There was a roaring in my gut. A dull ringing in my mind. A steadiness in my hand. I aimed my gun at Gregory Donovan. He shouted in protest.

  I fired. Instantly the bullet slammed into his eye, blowing out blood and tissue. It splattered the walls. His body fell to the ground like a ragdoll. It had been the simplest of solutions, but it had been the only thing that could have possibly made sense. I basked in the finality of the moment. Another animal had faced judgment day, and had fallen to it. The men in the cages started shouting and shaking the bars. I turned to face them. They thought that they were next. I lowered my gun. The roaring had faded. The ringing had ceased. The steadiness slipped away. And only the emptiness remained.

  “I’m a police officer,” I said, barely able to get the words out, “You’re safe now.”

  I searched for the keys. I spotted one pair on a rack against the far wall. It took me a while and I needed the metal pipe to break some of the rusty padlocks, but soon enough they were all free. Everything began to feel surreal then, and time started to sweep past in a discomforting blur. I was showered with gratitude. I was praised. Some of the men told me that they were hungry. Others told me what had been done to them. One man told me with tears in his eyes that he had been forced to kill his best friend. And with each word they spoke my soul darkened.

  It hit me then that I’d never be able to explain my contact with Donovan to Sarah or to the police. I could not risk that Sarah put two and two together and realised that I had killed Victor Salvatore as well. It would not take a genius to figure it all out. I had been questioning Victor prior to his death, and then I had been at it again questioning Gregory. Both men had ended up dead after I had visited them. She wouldn’t buy it. I’d lose everything. I wouldn’t be able to save Jess. There was only one thing that I could do. I had to disappear. I had to get her to believe that it was the ‘vigilante killer’ once again. With Greg’s death it became a much easier story to believe.

  I turned to the men behind me. My mind had ceased to process the reality in front of me. I felt so disconnected. I spoke to them and the words formed on my lips, but my mind made no connection to them. I told them that I had to leave. I told them that they could not tell anyone about me. I told them they had to tell the police that a man in a black ski mask had killed Gregory and rescued them. I pleaded with them. I told them that my daughter was being held captive by one of these men and I was trying to find her. I tried to make them understand. I tried to make them understand that my nine-year old daughter could be in a cage just like they had been. When I was done with my story, I got looks of understanding, of respect, of sympathy and of appreciation. One of them promised me that he would do as I asked. I felt relief wash over me. I called the police from Greg’s house phone. My gloves would ensure that there would be no fingerprints. I said my goodbyes to the men. That was it. I ran. Into the cold; into the comforting shadows of the darkness.

  The cold wind engu
lfed me as I walked the streets. I needed air. I just needed to think. My body was still in shock from what I had seen. I barely felt the ground beneath my feet. I trembled to think what I still had to face with my remaining enemies. And now the fear was starting to creep in. There were just three names left. The remaining three crime lords that owned this city. When morning came the entire city would be shocked by Gregory Donovan’s demise. If this did not bring the mob out of their holes then nothing would. I feared the repercussions.

  I still had not come any closer to finding Jess. I still did not know if she was okay. I raked my hands through my hair and over my face. I was going mad from the stress. Only by thinking of Jess could I still retain control over myself. But thinking about her brought back the pain. It brought back the stress, the worry and the fear. It brought it all back with a vengeance. I felt as though I was running on fumes, now more than ever. I did not know how long I had until I was caught or killed. I only knew that I would stop at nothing until I found my daughter. I could remember that phone call as clearly as I could see the stars in the black sky above. No matter what everybody said, I knew what I had heard. My thoughts were interrupted by a rough voice behind me.

  “Hey you!”

  I turned. I saw a glint of metal. A man in dirty clothes and an old hooded jacket was brandishing a knife at my face.

  “Give me your wallet!”

  I had forgot that among the real horrors the ghouls still breathed.

  I lifted my jacket and showed him my badge, “Are you really going to mug a police officer?”

  The man turned vulgar and jabbed his knife at my arm. On reflex I dodged it. It was clumsy. He was probably on some kind of drugs. I could see it in his red eyes and jittery movements.

  “Give me your damn money or I’ll cut you! Your phone too.”

  Why, of all nights, had the idiot picked the one night where I had no more room for calm? After everything I had seen, I was fresh out of mercy or patience. I was out of sympathy. I was out of good will. The man could not have picked a worse night to threaten me. Not when I had sworn that I would no longer tolerate the cockroaches of the awful city I still drew breath in. The anger burned like fire as I saw the man for what he was. I saw him as the next object of my wrath.

  I made no move to give him what he wanted. I smirked. That set him off, and he lunged at me with the knife. It clearly took a fool to try and stab a cop for pocket change. A child could have done a better job and, on top of being crippled by whatever drug he was on, the man was most likely weak from hunger and fatigue. I moved like lightning and deflected his arm. With his knife arm out of the way his face, neck, chest, stomach, midsection and legs were all exposed. There were multiple working offences and defences then. I could disarm him cleanly. I could crush his windpipe and kill him instantly. I could break his arm. I could cripple him with a kick to his leg. I could introduce him to his worst nightmare with a shot to the groin. I could simply wind him with a blow to the stomach. Or I could hurt him, without breaking anything. I lashed out, putting all of the anger and savagery that I could muster into the blow. I went for a liver shot, and my fist connected with the right side of his ribcage. The man screamed in excruciating pain and dropped like a fly. He rolled on the ground and gasped for breath. The knife clattered to the floor beside him.

  He started to crawl away from me. I looked at him with contempt. A memory came to my mind then of what thieves like him meant to me. It was personal. This particular memory had stuck with me through all the years, and it came flooding back then in a wild storm. On this night, I was not Jack Mercer. I drew my gun. I used my foot to roll him onto his back, and he cried out as his eyes met the barrel of my suppressed Beretta. He held his hands up in surrender. But I didn’t want his surrender. I could not feel anything of myself. If it was the beginning of insanity I did not know it. I only knew that I had snapped, and morality no longer made any kind of sense. All that mattered was having the will to do what was necessary. Evil could not go unpunished. I would not allow Jess to grow up in this plagued city.

  “I once worked a case of a petty thief like you, many years ago,” I began, recounting the memory that now spread through my mind like a disease.

  “Please, don’t...”

  “This guy was just like you. He had gone after a young woman intending to steal her handbag. Little did he know that the woman was taking everything she and her father had saved up in desperation to pay for her dying mother’s medicine. You see her mother was suffering from an illness that was very treatable, but the medication was expensive. But what did the thief care? He tried to steal her money, but it mattered more to her - a lot more. She fought back and he got aggressive. He pulled a knife on her. Just like the one you pulled on me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t speak! Listen. This woman, her name was Emily Green. She begged him to leave her alone. She even told him why she couldn’t give her money up. She told him all about her dying mother. But he didn’t give a damn. He stole it all anyway, every last cent. The poor woman desperately tried to call the cops and tried to explain the situation, but they ignored her. They had far more pressing matters in this city than a mugging. Shortly after, Emily’s mother was dead. When she should have been saved. She should have lived. That money could have and should have saved her life.”

  I had his attention now. He hung onto my words, but he still carried his fear in his eyes.

  “Do you know what happened to Emily then? The guilt she felt led her to commit suicide. Her family couldn’t take it. Her father couldn’t stop drinking, now having lost both his wife and daughter, and soon he too ended up dead; a victim of his own pain. He left his ten year old son alone and depressed. The kid was thrown into foster care. Sometime later he got put into a home, but he couldn’t get over the loss of his real family. His new parents were unable to have children of their own. For a while they tried to be sympathetic, but they eventually grew angry with the kid. All they had wanted was a child they could love and consider theirs - not some depressed kid with a junkyard of baggage.”

  I breathed deeply as my own pain resurfaced from having to remember the story. The man on the ground trembled before my gun. I had every ounce of his attention. I continued.

  “The kid started feeling like they didn’t want him. Like he’s in the way. Like he could never be happy again. How could he move on? It was just impossible. One day the parents came home to find that their adopted son had hanged himself. That was the point when they realised their mistakes. After all the kid had suffered they had not been understanding to that, and both of them broke down. They started arguing and fighting over whose fault it was; each throwing blame onto the other. But they knew they’d never get another child again. Their dream of having children was shattered. Gone to dust. A few months later they divorced and both of them ended up miserable and wrecked with guilt.”

  I lowered myself to the ground and stared into the man’s eyes.

  “There’s a mountain of blame to be handed out in that story, but the source of all the pain was right here. Two entire families were destroyed all because a petty, selfish and maybe even desperate thief wanted some quick cash. A low-life who burns the stolen money on drugs anyway.”

  I stood once again. The anger had all the control now.

  “You are as much a part of the cancer that’s eating away at this dying city as anything else. All of you, there’s only one language you understand. There’s only one way to end it all.”

  The man whimpered pathetically. I could not let this go unpunished; he had to face consequence. Evil did not learn from mercy. I contemplated. There was no non-lethal area to shoot someone on their body. Countless complications such as blood clots, haemorrhage, infection or just shock could end up killing someone. The cold weather didn’t help either. So I tried not to think too much about it. This man would have killed me for my money and wasted it on drugs. It was as simple as that.

  I raised the gun and block
ed out his screams as I pulled the trigger. The noise echoed, thriving in the emptiness which surrounded me. His thigh was a bloody mess. He clutched it in agony. I had been soft. Either way I was done. I didn’t care what happened to him then. He’d got what he deserved. His fate would be up to him or anyone who heard his screams and bothered to help. He’d be in immense pain; there was no guarantee that he would walk the same ever again. Maybe he’d even have pain for the rest of his life; a reminder of judgement day and what he had done to deserve it.

  I did not feel any guilt. Criminals thrived on the indulgence of society’s leniency; the rules of justice. How could I raise my daughter in a city where these men faced no consequences for the horrible things they did? Evil could not go unpunished. It was not about getting even. It was not about an eye for an eye. It was not even about fairness. It was about what was necessary. There could be no compromise.

  I had a sudden feeling of dread inside me as I considered a truth. I knew that what I had seen tonight would not be the worst of it. I could feel it in my gut. That was the thing about reality. No matter how bad things got it was always possible for them to get worse. These men were truly animals. I had seen proof of that tonight. They were something less than human. And I knew that I was going to have to kill again. I felt it in my bones. But the difference was that now I would always be ready for it. I had to be. For Jess. Some may have looked at what happened here tonight as just a mugging. But they didn’t think about the consequences. There was blood in petty crime. The longer we tolerated it and let them off easy the more it would continue.

  There in the cold I made a new promise to myself. I would kill anyone who stood between me and Jess. I would kill the remaining names on my list. The beast hissed its approval. I had little doubt in my mind that they were as cancerous as Gregory Donovan. I would not let Jess grow up in a city where men like this were free. Even if that meant I had to give my life for her, or that I would have to watch Jess grow up from the inside of a prison cell until the day that my life ended. Whatever waited for me at the end of this road, all that mattered was that my daughter would live her life. That was my promise.