Kings of the Night

by Mark Z. Kammell

  *****

  It’s just a sign. No words, I thought he was writing words, but he wasn’t, it’s just a sign, a pentagram, carved into my chest with a blade. I can’t take my eyes off it, I can’t stop staring at it. The lines are straight, even across the curves of my ribs, it doesn’t stray, and it’s accurate, symmetrical, carved with precision and care, different to the cut on my left cheek which is just that, just a cut. I’m standing there, naked, in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at myself, my body with just a little bit of fat round the stomach, other than that not too bad, except for that, that symbol, staring back at me as if it had an eye in its centre. It’s taken a long while for the bleeding to stop and the pain to subside and it’s taken a long while to cut myself out of the ropes that bound me and get myself here. And take my clothes off, and look, fearfully, into the mirror.

  I stand in the shower for such a long time, the water turns red as the residue of blood is cleaned off and I watch the red liquid run down my body and disappear into the plughole until eventually it’s gone and the water’s clear and my head starts to clear, but I still stand there waiting, thinking, what the hell did I do. I mean me, the real me, John Paris me, what the hell did I do to make people act this way. And what do I do next, because now I really need to find out, I really, really need to find out what happened to me.

  And so against my better judgment, as I sit still naked on the sofa I pick up the phone and I dial the number again. I don’t know what I’m going to say as I hear it ring out, ring out, and then it clicks and I’m about to speak but it goes to the answering machine. And I listen to the tone, the voice, leave a message, the beeps. And I breathe into the phone, waiting, thinking and then I say “This isn’t over” and hang up. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, but this really isn’t over. But I don’t know what to do now.

  I wake up later, lying in my bed, the night pouring in through the open window, the darkness plays on my body and lights up the pentagram like it’s on fire. I cover it self-consciously with a sheet even though there’s no one else there. The clock by my bed says 9:30pm.

  I’m feeling groggy but the night has started so I drag myself up and into some clothes. I feel like I’ve eaten a desert full of sand, and my head’s spinning, I really need a drink.

  My local’s still open and the bartender nods at me as I come in, well that must be a good sign, at least I’m still being served here. I get my lager and chaser and go and sit in the corner of the near empty place. The lights are dark and down and there are a few couples sitting in the shades, low and huddled and talking secretly.

  My first sip feels like heaven and the clouds in my mind start to clear, a little, start to let me loosen up a bit. The pint’s gone all too quickly and before I get another one, I touch my chest through my shirt, feeling the scars, running my fingers over them.

  I light up. A pentagram, what does that mean? It’s a magical symbol I think isn’t it, I wonder if that’s relevant to anything, or just something to scare me. That guy Martin, if it was Martin, seemed like a hard bastard and I think maybe I made a mistake telling him it’s not over. What if he comes back and he’s nastier next time, what do I do. I wonder if I should get an alarm system fitted or something, or maybe get a gun for protection or maybe just go after him like some sort of vigilante thing. Maybe I should get some decent black clothes and crop my hair and start wearing shades, especially indoors. You can’t be a vigilante without some style. I look down at myself and the clothes I’m wearing, not that many choices in Mark’s wardrobe, I mean, cream trousers and a kind of checked shirt, I look pretty sad. That’s probably why Martin went for me, thought I looked like a wimp. Right, that’s it, tomorrow I’m going to get myself some serious gear and a haircut and everything and then I am taking this to him. He’s going to give me some answers, well at least one, like, why was I killed, and he’s going to pay for the pentagram thing. I am going to carve a star on him but with six points, just to show him. A six pointed star. That will teach him. I wonder if there’s a name for that.

  But first I’ve got an even better idea. I get out my phone and text – “Jason, can you meet me tonight mate. Got a problem, need your help. In the Five Stars. Cheers Mark”. Hit send and put my phone down, waiting for a reply.

  Another drink whilst I’m waiting, I’m about to get up when the door to the pub opens and a couple walk in. They’re young, they’re holding hands, they’re laughing. The girl glances over and catches my eye, smiling uncertainly and she breaks into a frown. I can see her mouthing “shit” and I kind of realize why, because it’s Jane. Oh great, this is going to be fun, I smile and wave. Okay, maybe she has a kind of boyfriend but I’m always up for a challenge.

  She guides her boyfriend, if that’s what he is, round, and he looks over and gives a broad smile. Too many teeth in that mouth, I think, shiny white teeth that reflect the light and I glance him over, yeah, he’s kind of smart, smart clothes, not what I like really, he’s wearing a casual suit with a t-shirt, and he’s got a bit of stubble, and his hair’s spiked just a little and he’s tall and well built. Bet he doesn’t have a tattoo though.

  They walk over to me.

  “Hello Mark” Jane’s voice is sour. “Glad you’re resting after your ordeal last night” and I think she may be being a little sarcastic.

  “Em, yeah, well I couldn’t sleep, you know, it was playing so much on my mind, thought I ought to try and relax first, so I well, you know…” I trail off and look down.

  “You’ve met Jonathan, my boyfriend” she says, with the emphasis on boyfriend. Probably feeling guilty.

  “Of course he has!” says Jonathan in a huge voice and walks over to me and for one very scary second I think he’s going to give me a hug. Then he gives me a hug. “We met at that cocktail party we had back in February, didn’t we… Marvellous to see you Mark! I hope you’ve been well.” He reaches into his jacket and makes a big show of getting out an enormous, bulging wallet. “Let me buy us all a drink, what would you like, lager I see, let me get you another one of those. Will be great to catch up.” He slaps me on the back, hard and I can’t help lurching forward a bit. Jane laughs and Jonathan’s gone to the bar.

  She pulls up a chair and sits next to me, glancing over a the bar. “Listen” she hisses, “what the hell is going on?”

  “Erm… yeah, about this morning, sorry…” I start. I start fidgeting.

  “I’m not bloody talking about this morning!” she’s half whispering, half shouting. “I’m talking about getting a phone call, from Vanessa…”

  “Oh” my face reddens

  “Yes… from Vanessa, this afternoon, shouting, no, screaming at me, about…” and she puts her head in her hands, “about you and me being an item, and how I better back off. What the hell did you say to her?” She glances back at the bar, Jonathan’s being served. He looks over, gives a huge smile and waves. I hate people like that.

  “Well?”

  “Well, er…” I start, “look, erm, you know what she’s like…”

  “No, I don’t know what she’s like! I have no idea what she’s like. I’ve met her once and she seemed like a lovely girl, God knows what she’s doing with you, but that’s up to her and now…”

  “Lovely lovely lovely” booms Jonathan as he gets back and puts the drinks down. A pint of lager for me (no chaser) and small glasses filled with colourless liquid and ice for both of them, a slice of lemon thrown in. Girls’ drinks. He sits down opposite us.

  “Well isn’t this great. Jane and I have just been out for a lovely meal, absolutely delightful, and before I escorted her home, I thought it would wonderful to go to the pub” (why the hell does he emphasizes the word pub. Some people are like that. Showing he’s a man of the people I reckon. He knows what a pub is and he’s not afraid to go to one, and he has to make the point by emphasizing the word. Things like that really annoy me. When I’m done with Martin maybe I’ll come after him, maybe I’ll carve the word PUB out in capi
tal letters on his chest and then he won’t forget again) “for a nightcap. And then we bumped into you! How wonderful.” He leans forward. “How are you, Mark?”

  My phone makes a noise and I glance at it. “On my way. Jason”

  “Erm, yeah, I’m fine” I say. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

  “I didn’t know you smoked” says Jane.

  “Isn’t smoking banned in pubs?” asked Jonathan, puzzled.

  I light up and take a gulp of beer.

  They glance at each other. “How’s that lovely wife of yours?” asks Jonathan.

  The beer goes everywhere. “They’re not married!” Jane says quickly and Jonathan grins sheepishly. “Ah yes, us males, always afraid to make a commitment.” He winks at me. Like we’re the same. “How is she, anyway?”

  I glance at Jane and she’s smiling nastily. “Erm, yeah, she’s fine too, thanks.” I wonder how long Jason will be.

  “Well, great, great, wonderful” smiles Jonathan. I really hate this guy. “And how’s life at the hospital? Jane used to tell me what a great doctor you’d make. In fact, she used to go on about you quite a lot. I was even getting to be a bit jealous!” and he laughs, and I see Jane has gone red. What the hell.

  “Yes, well, let’s not make too much of that…” says Jane quietly.

  “Ah, of course, don’t want to let the star pupil know he’s a star., that would never do!” He winks at me again. Jane takes a quiet sip of her drink. “No, that would never do” she says drily.

  It goes quiet, even Jonathan doesn’t seem to have something to say for a change, and I glance nervously at the door. Nothing happens, even with me concentrating hard.

  Jane talks into the uncomfortable silence. “Well, I’ll just use the bathroom, and then, darling maybe we should think of leaving.”

  “Okay” I say.

  They both look round. Jonathan laughs “Funny Man!”, and Jane scowls, picks up her handbag and walks off into a dark corner.

  I take a drink, wondering what I’m going to say to this guy, hoping Jason will turn up soon and that they’ll leave and we can start to get on with business. But when I look at Jonathan his face has changed somehow, he looks less sure, less certain, his face seems drawn in a little and his eyes have got darker. He leans forward into me and puts a hand on my arm, okay, I wasn’t expecting that. But being cool, I just take a drag on my cigarette.

  “Are you ok?” he asks, quietly.

  “Erm, yeah, I think so” I say, uncertain what he means.

  “Christ, it’s been ages since the party hasn’t it. I’ve really missed you.”

  What? But I don’t say anything.

  “Why haven’t you been in touch? I know you’ve had a hard time at work, but you could have called, could have texted even. You know…” he paused, I could see sweat running down his forehead, “that’s the first time I’ve done that…with a man, of course.”

  Ah. Okay, that makes things a bit complicated. I’m gay? Not sure what I feel about that.

  He looks at me pleadingly. “Say something, please, Mark”

  I fumble with my lighter and look down. “Erm, yeah, sorry, it’s been, well difficult, you know with Vanessa and everything…”

  “Christ, don’t I know it. I don’t know what’s going on in my head. I never knew that… about me. But you know, that time we spent together, it made me feel… alive. I mean, I love Jane but she’s so cold. Look, please, can we find some time to talk, a drink maybe?” He pauses, looks up. “Shit. She’s coming back. Look, I’ve got an idea, why don’t I suggest that you and I go for a drink? You know, a couple of boys out for a beer or two, perfectly normal, nothing wrong with that, is there. Yes, great…”

  “Are you ready?” Jane stands over us, she’s taken her coat and is itching to go.

  “Oh, hello darling” Jonathan’s happy, booming voice has returned. “You know, Mark and I were just saying that we should meet for a drink, and maybe a curry or something, he and I, you know, catch up on old times…”

  “You don’t have any old times” Jane says, puzzled, “you only met at our party.”

  “Yes, well, you know what I mean” he laughs, “Those times are old already of course aren’t they! What do you say, Mark, it should be fun, shouldn’t it.”

  I nod non-committaly. Jane says “Well, I guess, whatever you want to do. Now come on, please.”

  Jonathan glances at me and gives me a sad smile, then gets up and with a broad grin says “Of course darling! Let me walk you home on such a beautiful night!”. Jane smiles thinly and they disappear through the door.

  “Fuck’s sake, don’t ask me to come and meet you if you’ve got company” says a voice behind me. “The less risks we take the better. Use your brain, I thought you’d have kind of got there after the other night.” Jason sits himself heavily beside me and looks unhappy.

  “Sorry! I didn’t know they’d be here. They came in and spotted me just after I texted you…”

  “Yeah, okay.” He shrugs. “Mine’s a lager”

  When I get back from the bar with two pints, he’s got a couple of sheets of paper in his hand. “Listen, I know you want to talk something through, but let me give you this. It’s just a reminder of the stuff that we’re into, you know” he looks at me meaningfully, “may help refresh your memory.”

  Here are the detailed instructions on how to access, support and influence the plot to kill Four Ways West

  This document is highly confidential and gives complete information on the access and instructions for the website theplottokillfourwayswest.com

  The website currently has over 400 members (although this may have changed at the time of writing) and its purpose is to allow members to read and update the various plots and schemes that are currently underway, all of which are focused on eradicating members of the band from the planet. More recently we have built an ambitious scheme to eradicate all members simultaneously, this is due to the fact that individual members appear very hard to target. The law now clearly states that groups found hunting individual members of the band Four Ways West will be treated as terrorists, however due to lack of legislative clarity it doesn’t appear to apply the same principles to a clear, targeted and calculated plot to remove the entire band at the same time. Although this may be difficult in a court of law, we have adjudged that it provides the basis of a legal framework and back up that our lawyers are considering.

  The instructions here are secret, for obvious reasons. If you view the website without reading them you will not be able to access any specific information, and your url will be logged. You may then be targeted by website members, known as FWWkillers. So please, only read this if you are serious. If you are a member of the law enforcement, please leave the website now. It does not concern or affect you.

  There were, until six months ago, essentially four different groups all working separately on methods to eradicate the band Four Ways West, all with the same essential objective of improving the musical purity of our heritage, although there were minor differences in ideology. For instance, the group FFWWTTDP was focused on inflicting extreme pain to the various members of the group, without necessarily eradicating them completely. It had been started by a young man who had had to endure more than three years of torture, sharing a bedroom with his younger brother who refused to listen to anything else. Apart from the obvious mental challenges, he was profoundly affected by the change in personality of his brother, from a healthy narcissistic teenager obsessed by sex, death and drugs, to a boy who could talk of nothing but sweet dreams, sweet love, babies and marriage, and who walked around all day with a smile on his face.

  Through internet discussion forums, these four groups were brought together by our leader, (name redacted), who is known as The General. He set out a set of broad principles, practices and rules that can be read in detail on our website.

  The creation of the group Order of the Holy Crusade of the Light occurred on 1st January XXXX, through the leader
ship and vision of The General. Bringing together the best of all of the groups and individual members he created a vast, superior order that has capability and foresight to carry out the complex plans that are needed, especially in the increasingly difficult environment that we all now face.

  He also gave insights and learnings, bringing together some of the best minds to throw a different, disturbing light on the nature of Four Ways West and the potential of the vast, intense damage that they can create. This action alone doubled our membership as people started to really grasp the threat that could await them or their families. These insights again are available on our website.

  The call to action, the call to war from The General is upon us now. The plans are in place. The teams are mobilized. The opportunity is with us. If you have been able to access this, you know why we are here. You know why you are here. Join us. Help us. Let us deliver the world from evil.

  I put the sheet down. “A little, erm, sensationalist don’t you think?”

  Jason laughs. “Yeah well they did get a bit carried away writing the ending. But overall it’s good. You need to check out the website, make sure you read it, make sure you don’t look like you don’t know what you’re doing. You didn’t, well, make the best impression on The General last night, and we don’t want any more fuck ups. He doesn’t have the longest fuse. Make sure you put that away” he says nodding at the paper. “The instructions for accessing the website are on the back. Listen, I shouldn’t have printed it out, it’s against protocol, so for Christ’s sake don’t tell anyone or leave it anywhere, but I figured you needed a bit of help seeing as you have been acting so weird.”

  “Cheers” I say and drink. “And all this stuff is just there on the web?”

  “Well, the Very Dark Web, obviously.”

  “The Very Dark Web?”

  “Yes,” he smiles. “It’s like the Dark Web, only darker. Now, get your act together for Saturday night. It’s going to be big, it’s the final stage all right, no fuck ups.” He pauses. “You remember about Saturday night, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, of course” I’m saying, “erm… just remind me…”

  “Oh for Christ’s sake. Final stage. I’m not going to talk about it here. I’ll pick you up. Outside the Jug and Jester all right. Seven thirty. Really, make sure you’re there.”

  “Yeah, got it, wearing black right?”

  He puts his head in his hands. “Forget the black. The black doesn’t matter this time. Wear what you like. Just don’t be conspicuous. And get me another drink.”

  “You want me to bring a bottle along? Yeah, good idea. We can have a ….”

  “Jesus, Mark. No. Not Saturday. Now. I’ve finished my lager. Get me another one. And a chaser.”

  So now we’re sitting here, drinks in hand, and I’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to explain why I need Jason’s help and he’s still shaking his head.

  “So, let me get this straight” he starts, “you see this dying guy in hospital and you kind of feel sorry for him. So when he dies and you get all the paperwork you go round to his flat, where you meet his aunt…”

  “She’s not really my, I mean, his aunt” I interrupt.

  “Whatever. You meet this aunt woman and you get chatting and she tells you that she talked to him the day before he died and he was a bit desperate, and she gives you the name of this guy who was a friend of his. Right. Fine. So even though you know nothing about this guy, John Frankfurt…”

  “John Paris”

  “Yeah, whatever. Even though you don’t know anything about this guy, you phone up his friend who turns out to be a complete psycho, because he comes round, strings you up and threatens you and tells you to leave it or else there will be serious consequences. So you’ve been a prick so far, fine, I can get this, but instead of leaving it and taking the fucking hint, you call this guy back and tell him it’s not over. And now you want to find out where he lives, stalk him and tell you what happened to your man Paris. Is that right?” He shakes his head again and throws back his whisky. He’s quite good but I can match him.

  I light up again. “Erm, yeah, I think that’s pretty much it”

  He leans into me. “And excuse me for asking the totally fucking obvious question, but why? I mean, why the hell do you care? What is it you’re not telling me?”

  That might be hard to explain. “Erm, well, I just felt sorry for this guy, you know, he seemed to die, no friends, nothing, and I thought…”

  “Not good enough. There’s no way. I know you better than that. You’re a nice guy but not that nice.” He looks at me intently. “It’s got to be about money. You’re holding back on me here aren’t you.”

  I sigh. After a few pints it’s easy to think quickly. “Okay, you’re right. It’s about money.”

  “I knew it. I know you. I can see right through you. All right, lay it out.”

  “Well, just before he died, he was delirious one day when I was watching him alone. He was going on about this stash, and I’m sure he was saying something about millions. So I go round to his flat, and it was okay, but it didn’t look like he was rich. And then Patience said that when he phoned her he needed someone to help him with something really valuable. She offered to herself, but I don’t think he can have trusted her because he turned her down, and he asked her if she knew this guy Martin’s number…”

  “I thought you said this guy Martin was Paris’ friend?”

  Shit. Yeah good point. “Erm, yeah, he was, but apparently John said he’d lost his number, they’d dropped out of touch and did she have it, so she gave it to him and he said he was going to see him. And, well, that’s it.” Pretty good that, I’m thinking, just made that up, better write it down.

  Jason looks at me, considering this for a minute. “Why didn’t she contact him?”

  “Why didn’t who contact who?” I ask. “He was dead. Oh, you mean through a medium. Yeah, maybe that’s…”

  “Shut up. Why didn’t Patience contact Jelfs? If she thought there was something valuable.”

  “I dunno” I shrug. “Maybe she wasn’t interested in money.”

  “No. People are always interested in money. And from what you say, she was really interested in it. Why didn’t she contact him.”

  “Well, maybe she knew him, and knew he was dangerous, and…”

  “Yeah, yeah, maybe you’re right. Hang on though,” he says, “you don’t know it was him attacked you do you?”

  “Well, yeah, you know, I called him, then he came round.”

  “But you had never seen him before. So it could have been someone else. What did he sound like when you called him? Did he sound aggressive?”

  I think back. “Erm, yeah, he did.”

  “Okay, so maybe it was him. But maybe not. You got to think through these things. Would you recognize him again?”

  “You mean after he stuck his face in mine and started to carve me up? Yeah, I think, probably.”

  Jason laughs. “Yeah, all right, fair point. So… let’s assume it was him that attacked you. And let’s assume that your mate John Paris had a stash, and he got scared, and so he went to see his mate Martin and dropped it off with him. But on the way back he gets attacked, probably for the money, and goes into a coma and dies. So then you ring Jelfs and start asking questions and he gets scared but figures he’ll just scare you off. Probably not a killer, then otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Probably figured out you were harmless, may even have talked to Patricia…”

  “Patricia?”

  “Yeah, you know that old woman…”

  “Patience.

  “I am being patient. I’m here with you aren’t I?”

  “No, sorry, I mean her name was Patience, not Patricia.”

  He shakes his head. “Whatever. Anyway, this old woman may have told him you’re just some harmless doctor, and he figures all you need is a warning, you know, stay away. He probably worked that out to by the way you just handed over your address to him like a
complete fucking idiot. But…” and he points at me.

  “But?”

  “But. He’s going to be scared. Cos he knows someone’s come after Paris. So someone will want the money and they’ll probably figure out he’s got it and they’ll come after him. So we’ve got to get to him first.” He downs the last of his drink. “Right, I’m in.”

  “In what?”

  “Mark, I’ve known you for a long time and I think you’re getting dumber. I’m in. Let’s do this. Let’s find this Jelfs guy, straighten him out so he doesn’t cause any more trouble, and get the cash. Fifty fifty split, that’s fair right.” He looks at me. “Maybe we ought to start with the old lady. Shake her down, find out what she told him. And where he lives. I better do that, because she knows you. Or we’ll wear masks or something. I’ll figure it out. Deal?” He’s holding out his right hand.

  What the hell. I shake.

  “All right, great, well we better start quickly. Let me get my head on this. My military training will come in useful.”

  “You were in the military?” I ask.

  He reaches over and knocks my head with his fist. “Sometimes, Mark, I wonder if there’s anything in there. You been taking dumb pills recently? You know I was a soldier. Right. Listen. I’m not sure your place is safe anymore, not after that idiotic phone call you made. Maybe you better move in with me for a couple of weeks, just until it’s sorted. Right?”

  “Erm, yeah, sure.” I hope his place is as nice as mine.

  “Will that girl of yours mind?”

  “What? Oh, Van. Nah, we’ve split up.”

  “Oh, really? When? You upset? You’ve been with her for a while.” He does look surprised.

  I shake my head. “No, whatever. She was pissing me off. Won’t your, erm…?”

  “My what?”

  “You know your, erm, girlfriend? Mind?” I guess hopefully.

  “Fuck’s sake. You know I’m gay. And celibate. And live on my own. Right. Saturday night. See you then. Bring your stuff you can stay at mine afterwards.”

  Whoops. Bad guess.

  Strange, I think, later, that no one mentioned the cut on my cheek. Even stranger, when I look in the mirror, that it seems to have disappeared. Ah well. Perhaps I imagined it.