Whispers in the Mind
Page 14
He had the officers’ undivided attention
The officers took the handcuffs off, and then read him his rights. After the Miranda, Winston confessed to all the crimes he could remember. The bemused officers could not keep up, but placed him in the rear of the patrol car.
At the station, Winston continued his catalogue of felonies, and did not appear to be worried that he was going into a slammer dressed as a tart. His screams in the middle of the night signalled that whatever he was under had just worn off.
It made the news the following day, and Jim and Kyle were just setting up their base of operations in a hanger on the local US air base.
“Sir, you should see this,” said a black clad special ops man.
They watched the news of the detention and confession of a notorious pimp and crack dealer.
The scene cut to an orange suited Winston, arms and legs in chains, walking, somewhat gingerly, between two officers into court.
“Winston MacGilvary was detained by police when they found him handcuffed to a lamppost just off Hollywood Boulevard last night. He was found wearing women’s clothes, a wig and make up. As soon as the officers made themselves known to him, he is alleged to have confessed to so many crimes that the officers could not write them down quick enough. He was interviewed by detectives, having declined legal representation, and even told the officers where the bodies were buried. Literally.
“Four addresses were searched and several thousand dollars have been seized as well as drugs and weapons. However, during the night, he claims to have been brainwashed and tried to retract his statements. But the cases against him are just too strong, and no evidence of drugs or hypnosis has been found. This is a remarkable case, and the local police chief is delighted at having so many unsolved crimes detected in a single night.”
Jim laughed.
“Shit, you have to admire her style,” he said.
“There is no evidence it’s her,” Kyle said.
“Of course there isn’t. She knows we know, and couldn’t care less. She is simply showing us what she can do.”
“I’m not sure, Sir.”
“I am, Kyle. I wouldn’t be surprised to see the next one being even more spectacular. Then she will contact us.”
Kyle was not as sure.
Winston was still sore. He could just sit down now, and he was definitely in the worst mood. No one in the prison could get near him, and he sat brooding by himself.
“MacGilvary. Visitors.”
“Fuck off.”
“These are government officers. The Air Force, they don’t take ‘fuck off’ for an answer.”
Winston frowned. What did the Air Force want with him? Unless they knew something he didn’t.
He stood up and allowed himself to be led to the special visitor room. A single room divided by a clear bullet-proof screen. Tables placed against either side of the screen and a microphone and speaker system imbedded in the screen
He sat opposite the two uniforms. His body language was hostile and aggressive.
“Tell me about the angel?” the older officer asked.
He frowned. How did he know about his dream?
“What angel?”
“The angel who visited you?”
Winton shrugged.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said, standing up and ready to leave.
“Just look at this,” the Colonel said.
The Major produced a photograph and showed it to the man.
Jim watched as the prisoner’s whole demeanour changed.
He seemed to shrivel up, he sat down again, and his expression took on childish characteristics. His lower lip quivered, and he started to cry. Then his left thumb made its way into his mouth, and he sat there gently rocking.
No matter how hard they tried, they could not persuade Winston to communicate any further. They watched as a bemused pair of guards removed the little boy who used to be Winston.
Kyle looked at the picture of Michelle he held in his hand. It had been taken by a telephoto lens in London. She was standing by her car talking to the woman who would have been her mother-in-law. They had cut it so only Michelle’s face was clear, and she was smiling. She really was beautiful.
“Okay boss, I believe,” he said.
Conrad Delaney looked over his expanse of estate and smiled. The vines were doing well this year, so his investments were soaring. He was a rich man, and enjoyed the feeling of power that his wealth had brought him.
He watched as the workers in the fields struggled in the heat, and he thought he saw some sitting in the shade of one of the cypress trees. He took out his mobile phone and called his foreman.
“Two of them spics are havin’ a siesta under a tree. Deal with them.”
He then watched through binoculars as a pickup truck stopped by the tree, and three men with large sticks started to beat the helpless workers.
He smiled, watching with pleasure as one by one they were beaten into unconsciousness.
That’s three I don’t have to pay, he thought.
Conrad employed illegal immigrants, as he kept his costs down to a minimum. They couldn’t complain, because if they did, back they’d go to Mexico. He enjoyed watching pain being inflicted, and he thought of the latest girl. She was chained up in his room, and being only twelve, he was looking forward to dealing with her later.
Carlos, his foreman was now a citizen, but as a former illegal himself, he owed everything to Conrad. So much so, he was willing to even remove the bodies after Conrad’s worst sexual excesses.
Conrad finished the fine cognac, and walked slowly up to his room. The Spanish style Hacienda was filled with the finest furniture from Europe and even had fine works of art, such as old masters, on the walls. He unlocked his room, and he experienced the anticipatory flutter of pleasure as he was about to relieve his stresses on his latest victim.
He locked the door again behind him, and wiped his sweaty brow with a large red silk handkerchief.
He turned and looked for his quivering victim on the bed.
He frowned, as she was not there.
The chains and manacles were in place, but the girl was gone.
How?
He looked round the room, but it was empty.
Confused and worried now, he went and unlocked the door. As he pulled it open, the door was forced into his face, forcing him to fall back onto the floor.
When he woke up, he was lying naked on the bed, with his hands and feet firmly locked in the manacles. There was a figure silhouetted by the window.
“Who the hell are you? Untie me immediately, do you hear?” he blustered.
The figure moved, and he saw the most breathtaking beautiful woman. She was tall, so tall. She was dressed from head to foot in diaphanous white.
“Who are you?” he asked, he had tried to remove his trapped hands and feet, and real fear edged into his voice.
“I am the Avenging Angel. Think of all those poor souls you have cheated of life to satisfy your own sexual perversion. Think of all those daughters and sons you have robbed of their childhoods. Think of all those mothers whose children you have stolen. Now comes a reckoning.”
Conrad suddenly was overwhelmed with blackness and then came the screaming faces, one at a time until every one of his victims was in his head and screaming.
He could take no more, and his screams were heard for many miles around.
In the field, Carlos looked up and grinned.
The boss was having fun tonight. He would go and remove the body in the morning.
It was not to be, for at about ten p.m. a plain police car arrived, and two detectives knocked on the door of the Hacienda.
The door opened, and Lieutenant Santiago explained that they had received a call from a male at the address, and that they were to come to the first floor master bedroom.
The housekeeper let them in and they went straight to the room. There, chained to the bed, and covered in his own excreme
nt and urine was the very mad Conrad Delaney. There were no marks on him, yet his mad eyed were filled with tears. On the dresser, and clearly handwritten in his own handwriting, was a complete confession to a series of horrific sexual attacks on girls and boys over a thirty year period, over twenty of these attacks resulted in the deaths of the children concerned. Other men were implicated, some rich and famous. Both officers, although experienced and worldly, felt nauseous when they read the pages in front of them.
There were eighteen follow up arrests, for offences from procuring children for sex, transporting illegal immigrants, to actually having sex with minors, murder, conspiracy to murder and accessories after the fact. One Congressman, a local mayor and three prominent businessmen were all indicted. It was a huge scandal, and it made the national news.
Jim saw the news and smiled. She had a real neat way of making the punishment fit the crime. He was almost sorry that he had to hunt her down. It would be interesting to see what she would do next.
Kyle came into his makeshift office.
“Have you seen the news, sir?”
“Yes. God! I admire this woman.”
“Yeah, some style, huh?”
They watched the pictures of men being led to waiting police cars, one of them being Carlos the foreman. Busloads of Mexican workers were being shipped back to Mexico by the Immigration services.
“Well. That’s all for today. I’ll be in early tomorrow. We need to be ready for when she contacts us.”
“You still reckon she will, sir?”
“I’d bet money on it. You see, Kyle, we’re the only game in town. Who else can she go to?”
“Some of the British Government agencies, they are always looking for good agents.”
“The British only recruit their own. She’s not British, regardless of what’s on her passport.”
“She isn’t a US Citizen either.”
“Don’t be too sure. Why does she come back here? What’s wrong with Russia, Europe, or Australia? No, she comes here because she knows here very well. I think our angel is American.”
Colonel Robertson made his way back to his room in the officers’ quarters. He called his wife, and spoke with her for half an hour. He could sense the strain in Shelly’s voice, but he now regretted his commitment to the project. He often thought he should never have got married, but he had, and he was honest enough to try to make amends.
He showered and went to bed, reading a little before turning his light out at a little after midnight.
He awoke with a start, and lay there curious to know why he had awoken. He listened and heard nothing, but then he sat up and put on the light. He looked round the small sparse room and relaxed. He went to the bathroom and relieved himself, returning to his bedroom, but almost died of shock.
For there, sitting on his bed was Michelle.
<> Her lips never moved, so he realised that he had underestimated her hugely. “Miss Cz…” < > she thought, and smiled. “Okay, Michelle. You certainly know how to surprise a man.” <