Prosper Snow Series

by Shaun Jeffrey

  “Joe, long time no see.”

  Josephine nodded, her short dark haired bob a frame for her oval face with its full red lips and the cute dimples in her cheeks. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose fitting top that did little to disguise her ample charms.

  “It’s been a while. You’re looking well.”

  “Screw you, Rivers. What do you want?”

  “Well if you’d let me talk over the phone, you’d know.”

  “Too many snoops listening in.” She pulled him inside, then leaned out and stared along the corridor before shutting the door. Rivers followed Josephine into the living room and stared out of the expansive glass windows at the city as it twinkled into life in the twilight.

  The room was smartly decorated and fitted out with an LED television at least fifty inches wide, circular padded chairs in steel frames, strategic spotlights and a couple of paintings that were probably originals.

  Rivers looked around. “Business is doing well then.”

  “I can’t complain. So what is it you want, and can you afford it?”

  “Business before pleasure, hey?”

  Josephine folded her arms below her bosom. “Business is my pleasure.”

  Rivers took out a bundle of notes held together with an elastic band and threw them on the table. “That should cover it. I need you to track someone from yesterday.”

  Josephine nodded her head to indicate Rivers should follow. “I’ll need times and locations.”

  “James Park, around nine o’clock yesterday morning.” He followed her into a room decked out with monitors and high tech, water-cooled computer systems and other electronic machinery that Rivers didn’t have a clue what it was. The room was about twenty feet square and two of the four walls were filled with computer systems.

  “Let’s see what I can do.” Josephine sat in a well worn leather chair and scooted it across to a desk and started tapping on a keyboard.

  Rivers stood behind her and watched as she accessed a CCTV site, then she opened a program and punched a couple of keys. The program started cycling through a series of numbers and letters that appeared as a blur on the screen.

  “One of your own decryption programs?”

  “Yeah. It helps that I’ve supplied most of these companies with the security software that they use, but even when I haven’t, as long as I can get remote access, then this little beauty can crack whatever codes they use.”

  Less than two minutes later, Josephine spoke. “I’m in. Right, James Park you said, nine o’clock yesterday.” She scrolled through a series of boxes, inputting dates, times and other information. “Most CCTV recordings are saved on hard drives, which makes my job a lot easier. I probably have access to over three hundred cameras from this one control room and those cameras will probably cover most of the city. Just remember, someone’s always watching you, wherever you are.”

  Rivers looked on as Josephine found the nearest camera to James Park, the time stamp in the bottom corner indicating that it was 08:45 a.m.

  “So who are we looking for?”

  “There, in the car park, can you zoom in?”

  “Yes, the beauty of these digital recordings means you can get quite close without much loss of clarity.” She pressed some keys and the camera image zoomed in.

  “That’s him.” Rivers stared at Prosper. “Now I need you to track who he meets and where he goes.”

  Josephine nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “For what I’ve paid, I’d expect nothing less.”

  She pursed her lips, then tapped a few keys. The time stamp counted up. “There are no cameras in the park itself.”

  “Okay, just see if you can track where he went when he left.”

  “So what’s it all about? Who is he?”

  “What do you care?”

  “Just interested.”

  “Well it’s private.”

  “Nothing in life’s private anymore. I should know. I can access most of it online.”

  A few minutes later, a large four by four vehicle pulled into the car park and a man wearing a long dark coat got out. He stood for a moment and seemed to stare up at the camera, then he walked into the park. Minutes later, Prosper and the man returned to the car park. Then they both got into the man’s vehicle and drove away. Josephine flicked between a few cameras until she found one that had captured the vehicle as it drove along a road.

  She continued to make notes of the time and tracked the vehicle through a series of traffic and security cameras. Sometimes, when the vehicle went through an unmonitored area, it took her a few seconds to find it again, but Rivers began to appreciate what she had said about someone watching you, wherever you were. The city was monitored 24/7, and whether it be traffic cameras or a shop’s security system, you were caught on camera, a star on your very own Truman Show whenever you left the house.

  Eventually the vehicle entered a rundown part of the city and after a couple of minutes of flicking between various cameras, Josephine said, “That’s as much as I can do. This area isn’t monitored by CCTV.”

  “Well I need to know where he’s gone.”

  Josephine shrugged. “Well I can’t help.”

  “What about spy satellites?”

  Josephine laughed. “This isn’t a film, you know.”

  Rivers chewed his lower lip.

  “He might go back there, so you could always go and wait.”

  Rivers nodded. “Thanks anyway.” He turned and walked out of the room. Josephine followed him. When he reached the door, Rivers turned and looked back, taking in the panoramic view across the city. If Prosper had his way and chased him out of town, it was going to be the last time he saw it.

  CHAPTER 25

  Prosper swirled the brandy in the glass and took a swig, feeling the warmth spread down his throat and into his stomach. Wolfe sat opposite on the settee.

  “So are you going to tell me what happened?”

  Prosper placed his arms either side of the padded chair, looked down at the floor and exhaled. He lifted the drink to take another swallow, noticed his hand was shaking.

  Wolfe tapped his foot on the floor. “I’m waiting.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “In what way? Are you now working for them or not?”

  Prosper nodded.

  “So spill. We’ve been through a lot together, so you can tell me.”

  “This goes no further. I’ve signed an official secrets act.”

  Wolfe laughed. “You know very well I can keep a secret.”

  Prosper stared at his old friend. “This is bigger than I expected. A lot bigger.”

  “So what about your concerns that he knows what we did?”

  “Oh he knows all right.”

  Wolfe frowned. “So how does that affect us? Are we about to be arrested?”

  Prosper snorted. “Arrested! I get the feeling these people don’t arrest people. They make them disappear.”

  “So what’s this new job involve?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  “They’re government funded, and at the moment they’ve got something to do with research into what makes people kill.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  Prosper licked his lips, then took another swallow of brandy. “They don’t just want to find out what makes them kill though, they actually want to test their theories in the field.”

  Wolfe’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Seriously?”

  Prosper nodded; he remembered the horrors he had seen on the monitors and his stomach curdled. “Yes, and now to top it off, one of their test subjects has escaped.”

  “Christ. Sounds fucked up.”

  “The recent killings, well that’s who’s been committing them. It’s my job to bring him in.”

  “But you’re sure we’re safe? They’re not gunning for us for what we did?”

  “No, we’re safe. He actually said he approached me because I have
what it takes to get the job done. That I’m the sort of person he wants on his team.”

  Wolfe chuckled. “Jesus, I’d hate to see who else works for him then.”

  Prosper sighed loudly. “Well tomorrow, I’m going to find out.”

  It was after midnight when Prosper arrived home. He parked in the drive, killed the engine and sat and stared at the house for a while.

  What sort of world is this to bring kids up in? he wondered.

  After a moment, he exited the car and entered the house, trying to be as quiet as he could. Although he hadn’t drunk a lot, the brandy had gone to his head a little and he felt guilty having driven home under the influence. Although he hadn’t been drinking when they had the crash that left Natasha virtually crippled, he detested people who did, as they weren’t just risking their lives, but those of innocent people too.

  It was cool inside the house, the heating having gone off a couple of hours ago. He removed his shoes, then made his way up the stairs, banging into the wall a couple of times when he lost his balance. Perhaps he was drunker than he thought.

  When he reached the landing, he left the light on and tiptoed to his son’s room, eased open the door and crept across to his bed. A ringing sound and red flashing lights emanated from the floor as he kicked a motion activated plastic sword and he cursed under his breath as Leon sat up. At least he wouldn’t have to check that his son was breathing tonight, something he often did before he went to bed, a habit he had continued since Leon was a baby.

  He put his hand on his son’s shoulder and eased him back down, then he sat on the edge of the bed, and just stared at him. After a while he felt a tear roll down his cheek and he wiped it away.

  I’m sorry, son, he thought. Sorry that I’m not always here for you. Sorry that I don’t tell you I love you as much as I should. And sorry for all the fuckups I’m going to continue to do.

  He laid his head down on the pillow next to Leon’s, the reassuring sound of his son’s breathing eventually sending him to sleep.

  CHAPTER 26

  “What’s the difference between a tyre and three hundred and sixty five used condoms?” Johnny Roberts asked.

  Brian Smith took a sip of his orange juice and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “One’s a Goodyear, the other’s a great year. Get it. Get it.” He laughed raucously, causing many of the pub’s patrons to look around.

  Brian laughed too, but it was caused more by Johnny’s reaction to his own joke than the joke itself.

  “Think I’m in there.” Johnny wiped tears from his eyes. He inclined his head to indicate a group of three women in their early twenties seated on high bar stools around a table about fifteen feet away. The women were in a huddle, talking, and they kept looking across at Johnny and Brian.

  “Probably wondering who let that braying donkey in,” Brian said.

  Another machinegun rattle of laughter burst out of Johnny’s mouth. Brian glanced over his shoulder and saw the girls giggling. While Johnny wasn’t the most attractive man in the world with his slight beer belly and his receding hairline, he possessed a charm and natural wit that seemed to attract the ladies. Brian, on the other hand, worked out four days a week and was muscular and fit. Even if he did say so himself, he thought he was a bit better than average looking. But unlike Johnny, he didn’t pull many girls, so he knew that looks weren’t everything. There had to be some magical mix of chemistry too, which Brian just didn’t seem to have.

  The bar was packed with groups of people, the chatter bubbling away beneath the disco music blaring out of speakers recessed into the ceiling. It wasn’t Brian’s choice of music, as he preferred something with a little more edge; something that would rock the house, but Johnny always wanted to end the night in this bar as the ratio of women to men was usually two to one.

  “Why don’t you have a proper drink to end the night?”

  Brian shrugged his large shoulders and sipped his orange juice. He never drank a lot of alcohol as he didn’t like to be out of control, but as he had driven into town, he hadn’t touched a drop all night.

  Johnny stood up, swaying slightly, and motioned towards the bar. “I’ll get you a vodka. Just one won’t hurt.”

  “I’m driving.”

  “Driving me crazy. You need to ease up a bit. Spend less time in the gym and more time with the ladies.” He winked at the group of girls opposite.

  “My body’s a temple.”

  “It’s OK having a temple for a body, but you need someone to pray at your altar, you know what I mean?” He laughed again, making his chest wobble.

  “I get plenty of people wanting to do that, don’t you worry.”

  “Well you must be keeping them hidden, because I never see them.”

  Brian tilted his head, arched his eyebrows and sucked his lips in. “Can I help it if I have standards?”

  “Standards, what are they?” He shook his head and then turned to face the group of girls and did a strange little drunken shimmy that was the closest he got to dancing.

  The girls laughed and Johnny continued his drunken boogie across to their table, unsteadily plonking himself down on an available bar stool. Brian glanced across, envious of Johnny’s affable ability to just start talking to anyone at the drop of a hat and not have them tell him to piss off.

  He took Johnny’s departure as his cue to leave. He probably wouldn’t even notice, too engrossed with making the girls laugh. Brian weaved his way through the crowds and out into the cool night air, rubbing his muscular arms and wishing that, just for once, he’d dressed more appropriately for the weather than just a figure hugging t-shirt.

  As was often the case, he headed towards the multi-storey car park on his own.

  Darkness

  Evil

  Me

  The man considered his word choices, like he considered lots of things. Evil. Now that was a choice word. The evil that men do. Evil things. Born to be evil. But who drew the line between what was evil and what wasn’t? Who had the right to judge another person for what they do? Who made the damn rules up anyway? It was only society that deemed it unacceptable, unless you were waging war, and then for God, Queen and Country, they said it was OK – what a joke that they could change the rules to suit. Killing was primordial. He knew that. Had been shown and taught.

  Killing makes us what we are. It gives us power over ourselves and others.

  He glanced up; saw clouds rolling across the dagger of moon that hung poised to strike in the sky.

  The hunt was on. He sniffed the air, savouring the aroma of the night, the smell of greasy food, cheap perfume, and cigarette smoke. Music from a pub discotheque blared in the distance, the neon façade reflected from the surrounding shops. A crowd of smokers stood behind a cordoned off area outside like modern lepers.

  The man curled his fingers tightly around the twelve-inch iron bar wedged in his jacket pocket, the long end lying alongside his forearm up his sleeve, out of sight.

  People loitered around the streets, some the worse for wear, stumbling along the road. Among them young men in short sleeved tops and girls wearing even shorter ones with skirts to match. Other sounds filled the air, shouts, laughter, chatter, a heady mix that bombarded the man’s ears as he stood in the doorway, watching, waiting.

  A group of girls teetered by on high-heeled shoes, handbags swinging from their shoulders, dresses seemingly sprayed on. They carried with them the smell of perfume, alcohol and hairspray. The man watched them pass, bowing his head to avoid eye contact if one of them should happen to look across.

  When they had gone, he resumed his vigil. Saw a muscular man with his hands in his pockets wander past, his prominent chest and bulging biceps stretching the seams of his white t-shirt. He looked a little dejected.

  Now he was a challenge.

  The killer slipped out of his hiding place and followed at a discreet distance. He didn’t know the streets very well, and if the man entered a bar, then it could be a long night of
waiting, and he didn’t have the patience for that.

  But the man walked past a number of bars, and went through the door into a multi-storey car park, the building’s sides open to the elements like the slits in a world war two bunker.

  The killer ran to catch up. He burst through the door, did a quick visual check, and then started up the concrete steps, his footsteps echoing in the confined space. The air smelled of urine and vomit, stains marring the grey walls and floor.

  He heard a door bang up above and ran faster, taking the steps two at a time, reaching the next floor seconds later. He pushed the door and ran through; saw the man up ahead. A few parked cars were dotted around, but most of the area was vacant.

  He needed to act fast as the man withdrew a key fob and pressed a button, the indicator lights of a sporty looking car blinking in response. The man leaned forwards to open the driver’s door.

  Heart pumping, the killer pulled his hand out of his pocket, letting his fingers travel up the length of the iron bar until they reached the end. Then he pulled the bar out, raised it above his head and slammed it down on the man’s head with a sickening crack. The man slumped forwards without a sound. His face smashed onto the edge of the roof, then his head rebounded and he crashed to the ground.

  Too easy.

  The killer crouched down and started pummelling the man’s face until it looked like a congealed mass of bloody tapioca. He continued until his muscles felt like they were on fire, then he grabbed the man by the shoulder and dragged him the eight feet to the wall. Using all his strength, he lifted the man up, balanced his upper torso on the edge of the wall, then he lifted his legs and tipped him over.

  He watched the man summersault in a whirl of arms and legs, and then he hit the ground thirty feet below with a dull thud.

  The killer grinned. He was strong, and getting stronger.

  CHAPTER 27

  “Daaaaad, what are you doing in my bed?”