And that just left Gary. He would be back in a few hours and would want to know everything that had gone on in his absence. And Augustine was sure that he would make great hay out of the fact he walked straight past the killer close to the scene of a murder and didn’t stop him. Augustine had no fears that he had done anything wrong, but he knew that little prick would try to make him feel bad. So, he had to plan something that kept Gary out of his hair, away from the more sensitive parts of the case and actually working for a change. He wondered what that might be. Then a thought struck Augustine. He knew exactly what he was going to get Gary to do.
5
He had sat in the same seat for hours. The man that had first come and spoken to him gave him food and drink, which he took out of the need to be left alone rather than hunger or thirst. He saw the man leave the room and not come back, which he decided was a good sign. The rest of the day had been his own. All he had was his thoughts. He could access all the information he needed again from any computer in the world, he just had to make sure that the encryption was strong enough to keep out anyone that might want to see what he was planning. There was no issue there, but it felt like he was starting all over again. He wanted to go back to his home and see whether there was any chance of him getting back to familiar surroundings. He wanted to rush back there every time he thought about it but knew that rushing wasn’t going to help.
It was in the middle of the afternoon by the time that anyone else entered the room. By this time his hoodie was dry and he had covered his face again. He listened on his phone to the radio news and there was no indication that the police knew anything about who might have killed the performer at the theatre the night before. There was no name, no warning that he was armed, no instruction not to approach. If they knew who he was then perhaps the police would ask people for help. The fact that they hadn’t made him feel like he was safer.
There was some movement near the glass doors that were opposite his seat before a man walked in with his head bowed. He looked as though he visited the place on a regular basis, but wasn’t there in an official capacity. He let the man go about his business without being disturbed. It took him some minutes to practice what he had visited the room for before he was finished. After he looked over, the two men met eyes and both walked towards each other. They hadn’t met before but it felt like they should both go through the motions of speaking to each other and exchanging pleasantries.
“Good afternoon. I’ve not seen you here before. I hope you are comfortable. What is your name?” The man asked. He looked as though he was just passing the time, but it wasn’t certain whether he entered the room with any other motive.
“I’m Al,” he said. He decided that the shortened form of his name was as good a name as any to use with a stranger. He hadn’t been called Al for a long time, preferring his full name. He had killed enough strangers over the last few days to wonder what their names were too. If anyone asked him from that point on, he would just call himself Al and leave it at that. It was pretty much the only thing he hadn’t planned during his mission, an alias, but now he sort of had one. And he had the stranger in front of him to thank. He didn’t want to know the man’s name so didn’t ask.
“Well, Al. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. Do you have enough food and drink? Do you need anything?” the man asked. It was the same experience as speaking to the other man in the same room earlier that day. He didn’t actually want anything but someone just turning up and turning away all offers of help would raise suspicions, even if the suspicions never made it out of their mouth. Al accepted the offer and took the food and drink that he was brought. It wasn’t much but these kind gestures got him thinking about his mission. He had looked at the worst in society and tried to make them stand out in his work as a message to others. He wanted the acts and behaviours that he saw to stop. The only way he could see that happening was to show people the consequences of their actions. If people saw others just like them killed as an act of retribution then maybe they would change their ways. He hadn’t seen much sign of it up to that point, but that was his plan, his mission. But sitting in this room he had now twice seen the best of humanity. He had seen people that had never met him before stop what they were doing and get him food and drink. He didn’t actually want food and drink, but the act in itself was something that made him feel warm inside. It was his people that were the good of humanity. The others that he had killed did not belong with him. They had to pay the price.
As he sat there, he thought more about his mission. He had identified many people that would serve as a lesson to others. He knew that the banker and politician wouldn’t be missed. They had chosen a life of lies and tried to make their money and reputation on the back of it. Even if the press coverage for the first few days was about the nature of the murder, he knew that people everywhere would be secretly thinking that they got what they deserved. But he knew that people would have a harder time in understanding the work he had carried out on the other two. Society loves to blame itself for the problems that people have. The newspapers that gave coverage of the prostitute were full of lament. They wondered how society had let her down in this way. They didn’t understand. These were her choices. He hadn’t seen the coverage of the man last night, but he was sure that the press would find some way to wash him of all blame. The choice he made to love another man instead of a woman was his. It was wrong. Society had been bent out of all reasonable proportion. Al longed for the days when homosexuality was taboo again. He wanted it all to stop. It made him sick to think about it. At least he had made sure there was one less on the planet last night. Hopefully he could get back to his work again.
He knew that others were trying to do the same thing. He knew that they had the same end in mind as him, but they didn’t understand how to pull it off. He would complete his work where others had failed. They had failed in the planning. They didn't choose their targets correctly. They had failed in the execution. His way was better. It would bring the right results.
6
Augustine was looking through the images and statements from the four murders they were investigating when Gary walked back into the office. He had obviously been somewhere hot as he was several shades darker than when Augustine had last seen him a few days earlier. He still had that same look of smugness on his face. Not even the sun could wipe that. He strolled around as though he was still on holiday for a few minutes and Augustine let him. He didn’t want to upset him quite yet, but he didn’t want him to get too comfortable either. Gary asked a few questions and then had a whispered conversation with Electra for a few minutes. She hated him and he made her skin crawl but she thought he ought to know that there was another murder and one that Augustine was close to while he was away. He huddled down next to her desk and was listening intently to what was being said. A soon as he finished talking to Electra he sprung back up and marched into Augustine’s office. He was already in the room when he decided that a little protocol was needed and he stepped back to knock on the door.
“I hear you let our murderer go? Another fuck up by the great Augustine Boyle. I guess you will be leaving this investigation soon? I’m sure they will give it to someone who actually knows how to catch a criminal,” Gary spat out all of this in a manner that told he couldn’t wait. He didn’t have the guile or intelligence to let the conversation flow naturally and go in for the kill. He just wanted to throw everything he had at Boyle. Augustine’s grandfather would have a field day at cards with this character.
“Obviously I didn’t know he was the murderer when I walked past him, but yeah, I was this close to the guy,” Augustine held up his hands before narrowing them, “in fact no, closer. He bumped into me.”
“And you still couldn’t catch him. Talk about bad policing.”
“I was off duty, on a date if you must know, and there was no investigation at the time. What are you trying to insinuate here, Gary?”
“Never mind. I’m sure I’ll
work better with your replacement.”
Although there was never any indication that Augustine had done anything wrong or was indeed going to be replaced on the case, this pissed him off. He wanted every case to go right, even if it was just so he could get some sleep without being invaded by new bodies in his dreams, and the fact that Gary was so openly hostile put his back up. But he played the long game. He held all of his best cards while Gary had thrown all of his down on the table.
“Until that happens, I am in charge of that investigation. And I have a little job for you. One of the forensic team has noticed that the murders have all taken place near to the drainage system. I need you to go down the sewers at the first three murder sites to see if there is anything there. We might be looking for blood, clothing or a weapon. I have arranged for a guide to show you around. You will meet someone from the city’s water department outside the front of the Museum of Innocence in around half an hour. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” Augustine spoke slowly and drew every possible piece of enjoyment out of the statement. He never took his eyes off Gary while he spoke so he could see his face change from glee to pain. It was worth listening to all his shit earlier. Gary paused as though he was trying to think of something clever to say. It wouldn’t come.
“Let me know how you get on,” Augustine added as a final ‘fuck you.’ The message wasn’t lost on Gary who was starting to go pale and reduce the effects of his recently-earned tan.
They would all meet and discuss their findings the next day. Augustine was looking forward to hearing Gary tell the rest of the team about his trip to the sewers. That would just crank up the embarrassment and make this assignment all the sweeter for Augustine. He heard Gary mutter, “fucking Boyle,” as he left the room. It was the most satisfying curse he had heard in his life. Augustine Boyle rocked back into his chair and grinned. He thought it might be some time before he smiled again after the night before but there it was. As wide as his face.
7
Al left the building the next morning. He had given it long enough and listened to the radio on his phone as much as the battery would allow. There was no mention of him. In fact, there was no mention of any progress at all relating to the murder of the performer at the theatre, so he felt as though it would be safe to at least go and take a look at his house. The police weren’t very subtle at what they do, so he knew they would be sat in an obvious car in the street if his home was under surveillance. He left around quarter past five in the morning. This felt like the optimal time as there would be no commuters quite that early and all signs of people coming back from their drink-fuelled night out would have been over for a few hours. He would have the streets to himself. But he felt like this anyway. He knew the CCTV systems well enough to understand how to move around without being watched. He had the streets to himself. He moved in the shadows and wasn’t noticed by others that were going about their daily business. He had the streets to himself. He didn’t recognise those who carried around their sins as fellow humans. He saw them as an inferior species that needed to mend their ways or be wiped off the face of the earth. He had the streets to himself. He hadn’t any friends or family to speak to or share his life with. He had the streets to himself. The narrow road that he called home was almost derelict and had gone unnoticed to the rest of society. He had the streets to himself.
Al walked past the end of his road. That was part of the plan. The first step was to look like he wasn’t headed there at all. He wanted to look like someone who was going somewhere, even though he was clearly the only person that was going anywhere at that time of the day in that part of town. There was a car in the street opposite his home that he didn’t recognise but it looked like nothing the police would own. Even with their reduced budgets, he was hard pushed to believe that the police would stake out his home in a beaten black Mitsubishi Colt that was losing its trim and was well over ten years old. The disgusting orange/red seats that went with it were another sign that nobody in their right mind would buy a car like this. He walked around a hundred yards past the end of his road before cutting down a side street and doubling back. He now pulled his hood down and changed his gait – his attempt not to look like the same person as he walked back. After killing a handful of people and evading all capture, Al started to believe he had chameleon-like qualities at times. He had even walked straight past the lead detective trying to capture him without being noticed.
As he reached the end of his road, Al looked left and right before crossing. Nothing looked any different to when he was there a few minutes earlier. In fact, nothing had changed for years. It was a forgotten part of town – that was the beauty of it. Even the police had forgotten about his street. Al loved living in absolute obscurity there. The neighbours rarely showed their faces, especially in the early and late parts of the day that Al operated in. He only knew a few of them, even after years in the street. Most were elderly and discarded by society and their own families, it seemed to Al. He didn’t ever see people come to visit, or take them out for the day. There weren’t many social care visits that he had seen. Local authority cuts had made sure that certain parts of society were just hidden away from sight.
Al felt like he should after two nights taking his sleep in a chair. He ached and wanted to get home and have a wash. This was the pressing thought on his mind. He decided that if he was being ambushed here, that getting taken to the police station for another night or two without access to running water would be the worst part about his capture. It was making him feel like he would run away from the police just to have the chance to jump into a shower and get clean before giving up.
He slowly walked along the street before his curiosity got the better of him. Al walked towards the Mitsubishi Colt to take a closer look. It was clear that it hadn’t been cleaned inside or out for many months, if at all. The trim, the seals and the door handles were all falling away. This gave it the impression of a car that needed a lot of care and attention, where some general maintenance over the years would have stopped it ending up in this sorry state. As he got closer still it was clear that there was no one inside, unless they were very small and stooped in the foot well. He breathed a sigh that was half relief and half confirmation that he was right all along. Al planned every step of his operation and didn’t like to leave anything to chance. Now that he could see that the car was empty he was ready to move on with his plans again. There was nothing else for the police to hide in, nor anywhere else for them to wait as far as he was concerned. He was stood looking straight at the rear window on the passenger side of the car when he heard a screech of tyres behind him and a flash of lights caught his eye. Al was stunned to see a police car roll around the corner and pull up between him and his home. The officer inside didn’t get out. His window was already wound down and he leaned as far out of the car as possible. It was still very early in the morning and he didn’t want to shout over the hum of the engine. Al didn’t want to make this any easier for him. He was looking for a way out. He considered killing the police officer, running out of the street and trying to see if he could jump start the Colt all in a few seconds before deciding that he would wait it out. He had been caught on the hop once by the police arriving when he thought he’d avoided them. The last thing he now wanted was to act rashly and find out that there were more around the corner.
“Is this your vehicle, sir?” the police officer asked in a voice that gave nothing away that he was suspicious. Al guessed this was all part of the training and he could ask any question in the world like this. If he turned up at a scene where someone was stood in a pool of blood with an axe in their hand, Al was sure that he could ask “have you used this axe recently, sir?” in a similar manner.
“No, I’ve never seen it in our street before, which is why I was taking a look,” Al replied, trying to emulate the police officer’s way of sounding neutral. “I suppose people can park here and walk to work if they like. It may be a commuter.”
“The only people up are th
e likes of you and me. It’s a bit early for a commuter if you ask me,” the police officer continued the conversation even though Al was now thinking about how to get out of it and get away from this part of the world as quickly as possible. The police officer was called Andy Lane. Al wanted to disappear, but knew that would pose more interest that continuing with this conversation – if it was just a coincidence and nothing to do with his crimes.
“I suppose. Is there a problem with this car?” asked Al. He thought that steering the conversation to the car was far more likely to keep it off him.
“It has had a bit of history over the last few days. The car was reported missing around four days ago and then reported as abandoned here last night. It’s the first chance I’ve had to come and take a look. It seems strange that as soon as I turn the corner to look at this reported car that I find someone staring through the window. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” PC Lane was now starting to lose the air of neutrality.
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