Each Day I Wake: A gripping psychological thriller: US Edition

by Seb Kirby

  Once I had the window open far enough, I paused to collect my thoughts.

  My best chance was to surprise him, given that in all probability he would be preoccupied with Ashley. And the best way of ensuring that was to remain silent.

  I moved with great care, making sure that when I made it into the house I wouldn’t disturb anything. It was dark inside so there was a risk that I might collide with something I couldn’t see from outside but this was a chance I knew I must take.

  As I dropped through the window and prepared to straighten up, the light came on.

  He was waiting for me, gun raised.

  “Tom, I can’t say I wasn’t expecting you.”

  It was Tim Mason.

  He had rolled back his shirtsleeves, revealing his forearms.

  There, on his tight forearm, clear to be seen, was the rose tattoo.

  He came closer and pointed the gun at my chest.

  I thought he was about to fire.

  But he smiled. “I want to show you something.”

  CHAPTER 83

  He walked me from the room and along the hallway to a door at the far end, the gun all the time pushed into my back.

  When the door opened and I was forced inside, I knew where I was.

  Books covered the walls from floor to ceiling. This was the library where he’d carried out the killings that I’d seen in the videos he’d made me watch.

  Ashley was lying face-up on a sofa at the far end of the room, her eyes open and staring.

  I shouted out. “You’ve killed her.”

  He laughed. A full, breath-filled laugh. “Not yet. She’s sedated. She’ll come round in a while.”

  He motioned with the gun for me to sit facing him in one of the wingback chairs that stood either side of the log-filled fireplace. “We should talk.”

  I knew my best chance of survival was to keep him engaged. “You weren’t surprised to see me.”

  He smiled. “No, Tom. Your covert surveillance is not the best. I spotted you right away. Once I removed the protector who was with you, I knew you’d follow. I wanted to lead you here. I had to slow down more than once on the way here so you could stay in touch.”

  “Why me? Why have you been so determined to make me suffer?”

  He lowered the gun just a little. “You must know, Tom. Why it had to be you.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, first, you’d taken it on yourself to interfere. Continuing with your old crime work, investigating the missing girls when you should have been concentrating on the work you were supposed to be doing, helping the team to expose wrongdoing. I could tell. Tell you were about to expose me. So I had no choice but to stop you.”

  “So that was it?”

  His eyes moved back and forth at speed, as if he was struggling to control his emotions. “No Tom, that was just the superficiality of it all. This is about lies, Tom. A world full of lies. I’m the one who has to rid the world of those lies. We need truth. You must know that’s what we need.”

  “And I’m somehow a part of that?”

  “Of course you are! I began the investigation into Montague and OAM. I was poised to bring that to fruition by exposing the lies they peddle to the poor fools who give him their money. Until you came along. How did you ever imagine you could side line me?”

  “I never tried to displace you. You must know that.”

  His expression hardened. He raised the gun once more and aimed it at me. “How could you deny it? From the moment you walked into Hamilton’s office he was smitten by you. Your determination. You were the future. I was the past. You have no idea how that felt. How you placed yourself between me and the truth. It couldn’t go on. It had to be stopped.”

  “And all the while you’ve been killing those women. How does that square with your dedication to telling the truth?”

  He laughed again. “You still don’t get it, do you Tom? You’d know the answer to that if you really thought about it. You know they’re just another side of the same thing. The life they live is a lie. Pretending to be something they’re not. Pretending to be innocent and virtuous when all along they’re brazen and calculating. Their virtue is a lie. Their whole being is a lie. They wouldn’t know the truth if it came up from behind and bit them. And as I’ve already told you, I’m the one to rid the world of those lies. The one who understands the truth.”

  I knew then just how deep was his madness. “And you have no remorse? You don’t care about the futures that they’ve lost, the agonies that you’ve put their families through?”

  He puffed out his chest. “That’s the price that needs to be paid for the truth to take its rightful place. Don’t you agree, Tom? I want you to agree.”

  I tried to placate him, playing for time in the hope of finding a way to overpower him before he could use the gun. “I’ve never doubted that was what was driving your journalism.”

  His face reddened with anger. “Don’t humor me, Tom. Don’t ever make that mistake. You talk of journalism when you don’t know the first thing about real journalism. About getting to the facts.” His eyes bulged. I could see his finger tighten on the trigger. “Well, let me tell you about real journalism.”

  He picked up the pocket drive that had been lying on the table beside him. “See this. Geoff Tunny died for this. There’s enough here to sink Montague and OAM ten times over. And who’s going to break the story? Not you, Tom. You could never be trusted with as important a task as that. That will be me.” He smiled. “After all, everyone will know you’re the one who’s been killing those girls. No one would trust you to break the truth, to rid the world of the lies told by a man like Montague. No, Tom, that honor will fall to me once the police find you lying dead next to the corpse of Ashley, your last victim.”

  I knew I had to find a point of weakness, something I could exploit to allow me the chance of an opening against him. “So, that was it all along? You were so jealous of me and my talent that you wanted to frame me for the killings.”

  His face reddened further. “Talent? Don’t talk to me about talent. You have no talent, I thought you understood that?”

  “So, you don’t deny it?”

  “Why would I want to do that? You deserved it, Tom. Deserved it for ever thinking you could take my place. And, yes, I’ve enjoyed seeing you suffer, knowing the agony, the self doubt you’ve been going through. You deserved it, every minute of it.”

  There was the sound of movement from the sofa behind us as Ashley began to wake. When she cried out, Mason turned his head towards her.

  I knew this was the moment, win or lose, when I had to take my chance.

  I jumped up from the chair and aimed a kick at the hand holding the gun.

  He groaned but held his grip on the weapon. “You never should have thought you had a chance, Tom.”

  I grabbed the gun hand. We struggled to see who would gain control. There wasn’t time to doubt my strength. I knew I’d been weakened by the ordeals he’d put me through. The trauma of being left for dead in the North Dock was receding but the imprisonment in the basement of Brookheath Hospital had come close to pushing me back to ground zero.

  I summoned all the strength I had left to try to prevent him turning the gun towards me. But I was losing the fight. He was gaining control. Inch by inch, as the barrel of the gun turned towards me, his superior strength was winning out. I was back in Nottingham, losing the fight to Brogan all over again, struggling with the desire to want to submit, for an end to the fight.

  There was the savage glint of victory in Mason’s eyes. “Don’t fight it, Tom. You know this is meant to be.”

  The gun was now pointed into my face and he was attempting to fire.

  I grappled with his fingers, trying to prevent them from pulling the trigger.

  Ashley was on her feet and had picked up one of the logs that filled the fireplace. She hurled it in our direction, striking Mason full in the face.

  I summoned up a last surge of energy. I wouldn’
t submit. I would find a way to win. I’d make up for all the times I’d chosen compromise ahead of striking out for what I believed in.

  Before he could respond, I turned the gun towards him.

  He struggled to regain control but the gun fired. The trajectory of the bullet was critical. It entered beneath the chin and travelled upward into the brain.

  He fell back, hit the floor hard and lay there motionless.

  I felt for a pulse but there was none.

  Ashley screamed.

  I tried to calm her. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

  I could see she was unsure what to believe. “You killed him.”

  “He would have killed us both. And without you he would have succeeded.”

  “He seemed so proper, such a gentleman. And then when he saw you he turned, forced me into coming here.”

  “Because I knew he was a killer. Listen, Ashley, he’s been killing women. Four, maybe more. We need to call the police.”

  She began to cry. “And he would have killed me?”

  I nodded.

  She sat back on the couch, trembling, in shock.

  When I used the landline phone to call Lions Yard station and ask for DI Ives, the police operator wanted to know the reason for my call.

  “Just tell him he’ll find the killer of Cathy Newsome here.”

  “Where is here?”

  I didn’t know the address. I’d followed Mason here in near darkness and didn’t know the location. “You can trace it. I’ll leave the call on hold.”

  “You are reporting a crime?”

  “Tell Ives the killer’s dead body is here.”

  It would take time for them to trace the call, time I knew how to use.

  I began to search the house. In the basement I found the rig he’d used to imprison me at Brookheath. In a cabinet nearby were the videotapes he’d made when stalking the girls he’d killed, the videos he’d made me watch. It was enough for Ives to be able to be certain that Mason was the killer.

  Back upstairs, Ashley was recovering. I asked her to wait until the police arrived and then tell them everything that had happened.

  She looked up. “You’re not staying here?”

  I shook my head.

  “But who do I say you are?”

  “Tell them I’m Tom Markland. They’ll know who I am. Ask them to search the basement.”

  I picked up the gun and the pocket drive and headed back down the driveway to the Ford.

  As I waited there, out of sight, minutes passed.

  Then there was light at the end of the road. From my vantage point, I watched as two plainclothes policemen emerged from the leading car and made their way up to the house, followed by three armed uniformed officers.

  I put the Ford into gear and pulled away.

  CHAPTER 84

  Ashley was safe.

  Mason would kill no more.

  I was struggling to hold on to the meaning of this.

  I’d just killed a man.

  There had been no choice. It was kill or be killed. And he would not kill again. I needed to believe this was justification enough.

  And I knew there was no time to dwell on this. Nothing had altered the plain, terrifying fact that Montague and Quinn were holding Janet.

  I thought of returning to Mason’s house and asking the police for help. But that was too great a risk. I was sure of that. Whatever they decided to do, even if I could convince them about what had taken place, would be too slow. Montague and Quinn would know by now of Morgan’s death in the club in Soho. They would be covering their tracks and that spelled greater danger for Janet. I had to act.

  I realized that I had just one option.

  I called Quinn on the phone he’d given me. When he picked up, I decided to keep it simple. “The girl is safe. Time to talk.”

  He sounded calm. Too calm. “Very well, Mr. Markland. Come on in. Give us the diary and you’ll have your wife back.”

  The drive back into London was a worrying one. Would my failsafe be good enough to stop them double crossing me? I suspected it wouldn’t.

  I was back in the world of hostage exchanges. What makes each side trust the other? I knew the way it was supposed to play out. The two hostages approach their moment of escape at the same time. If one side reneges on the deal, the other side calls their hostage back. Both sides have to play ball.

  I needed to make sure that this applied to the release of Janet. But I didn’t have a hostage to give back in return. I had the diary.

  I tried to put myself in Montague’s shoes. He wouldn’t be satisfied with the exchange. If he gave Janet back, he knew I had the failsafe copies of the diary that could still be used against him. He would have to insist that all copies were handed over at the same time. Then I would have no failsafe. There would be nothing to stop him from double-crossing me. I needed something more.

  Mason’s gun was beside me on the front seat. They didn’t know I had it. I’d have surprise on my side. I hid the gun under my shirt, secured it inside my trousers waistband and tried to make it look as unnoticeable as I could.

  I would need to play the naive. Make them think that I was out of my depth. Then take my chance.

  Quinn had directed me back to the disused factory on the Commercial Road. As I drew near, a black BMW pulled away from the roadside and began to follow. I looked in the driver’s mirror and recognized Quinn seated in the front passenger seat next to his burly, black-suited driver.

  They followed me into the factory yard and stopped behind me. Another black BMW was parked nearby. Quinn gestured with a gun that I should go into the building and take the staircase to the first floor. He followed a few steps behind.

  If they decided to search me, they would find the gun. I was banking on the fact that they would underestimate me. I held my breath. There was no search.

  Montague was waiting. “So, Tom, it’s time to trade.”

  Quinn remained behind me.

  I approached and stood before Montague. “That’s why I’m here. Where’s Janet?”

  He nodded. “She’s nearby.”

  “And Marshall Brogan.”

  “Brogan?”

  “I know you have him.”

  “Brogan isn’t part of the deal.”

  “Then there’s no deal.”

  He gave an insincere smile. “OK. You can have Brogan. Now, give me the diary.” He held out his hand.

  I offered him nothing. “It’s not that simple.”

  Quinn came up from behind and placed a gun to my head. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  Montague told Quinn to put the gun away. He smiled. “You must think I’m stupid, Markland. We know it’s online. Let’s start with the login and password. We know you have that. So, give it up.”

  “Not until I see them. Bring them here. Janet and Brogan.”

  “That can be done. But how do I know what you’re giving me is real?”

  “You have your phone? You can check the login on there.”

  Montague took out his phone and called up the web browser. “OK, Tom, give me the login.”

  I shook my head. “I need to see Janet and Brogan. And you need to guarantee all three of us a way out of here.”

  He signaled to Quinn. “Bring them in, Mike.”

  Janet and Brogan must have been held somewhere nearby as Quinn returned with them at once. He pushed them into the room. Both were blindfolded and had their hands tied behind their backs.

  I could see that Janet was in distress. Her whole body was shaking. She was disorientated.

  I called to her. “Janet. It’s me. You’re going to be OK.”

  She recognized my voice and tried to call back but was silenced as Quinn placed his large hand across her mouth.

  Brogan was much more the worse for wear.

  I turned towards Montague. “What have you been doing to him?”

  He smiled again. “We’ve been talking, that’s all. And you know what Brogan
tells me?” He paused. “There are copies, print outs, of the diary. Brogan had one. You took it away.”

  “You can have them, as part of the deal.”

  “So, how many are there?”

  “Just two.”

  “And how do I know there aren’t more?”

  “You don’t. But I can tell you there aren’t any others. There are just two and they’re with someone I trust who knows what to do if anything happens to me.”

  “Your failsafes.”

  I nodded.

  “So, tell me why I should believe you that there aren’t more copies?”

  “Tell me why I should believe you that you’re going to let us go?”

  We were in a position that chess players call stalemate. There was no move that was allowable. But while chess players can agree a draw, I had no such option.

  Perhaps it was always going to come down to this.

  I jumped up, pulled the gun from my waistband and grabbed Montague around the neck. I pressed the gun to his temple. He was strong and began fighting to free himself at first but when he felt the cold steel of the gun barrel against his flesh, he froze. He began pleading. “Don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

  Across the room, Quinn had pulled his weapon and was taking aim.

  I pushed Montague forward to cover me from Quinn and shouted. “I will kill him.”

  Quinn didn’t lower his weapon. Instead he took aim at Janet. “So, you don’t care about what happens to your wife?”

  Montague was the one who replied. “Put the gun down, Mike. No one needs to die. We can work this thing out.”

  Quinn lowered his gun. “You’d let him take them?”

  “We’ll find another way to stop him.”

  I told Quinn to free the ties on Janet and Brogan and to remove their blindfolds and, with reluctance, he did so.

  I pushed Montague towards the door and shouted for Janet and Brogan to follow, all the time keeping the gun pressed to Montague’s temple.

  Quinn moved aside to let us pass. “You’ll be hearing from us, Markland. Don’t think this is the end of this. Your troubles are just beginning, and you know it.”

  We made it down the staircase into the factory courtyard and began to edge towards the Ford I’d arrived in.