Survival Instinct

by Declan Conner

  “Eta, the symbol ‘h’. No English alphabet equivalent. Maybe that’s why he put an ‘a’ where one would expect an ‘e’ to show the confusion with the Greek equivalent. Stacy I could kiss you!”

  “Err. . .hell no. . .no thanks. Just git on with checkin’ the word, then you can set me free. Maybe the guy just couldn’t spell.”

  Jamie retyped the anagram part of the message, substituting the Greek letters and the target word changing the “a” to an “e.” “I AM E MANIAC THN: MATHEMATICIAN.” Ticking the letters off, it was a perfect match.

  “That’s it. What did Bill say? ‘If you think it . . . it’s true’. The guy has a Greek connection. He could have a grudge against me, and he’s a pervert. It has to be him. He’s clever. He could have used the word ‘then’, but that would’ve been too easy,” said Jamie. He unfastened the handcuffs and noticed the look of confusion on Stacy’s face.

  “Whut the hell are ya talkin’?”

  “You may as well stay here for the night. Bill, the guy who owns the cabin, won’t be around for a while. If his daughter turns up, just tell her he’s hired you as a housekeeper for security. If I make it back tomorrow, I’ll drop some food off for you. Oh, incidentally, I need to borrow your ski mask.”

  “Sure take it. Ahh shit man . . . ta sleep in a warm bed? Heaven.”

  Jamie picked up the mask and the flashlight and hesitated.

  “Stacy, I owe you big time for your help. I can’t explain right now, but if I get through tonight, I’ll arrange for my lawyer Gail Fletcher to call and see you tomorrow. It sounds as though you had probable cause with that slime-ball boss of yours. If anyone can get you out of your problem, she can.”

  Not waiting for a response, Jamie hurried out of the room and then made for the front door. Picking up the rifles and bulletproof vest, he opened the trunk of the Chevrolet and dumped everything inside. He closed the trunk, climbed in and started the engine.

  My God, what do I do now? Jamie set off, wheels spinning in a cloud of dust.

  Contents

  The showdown

  Jamie couldn’t recall Jake’s surname, but remembered Bill saying he ran a Greek Deli with his mother on West Street. Damn, that’s in the same block as the police station.

  Driving to his destination, he tried to blank out his thoughts but kept seeing images of Steve and Ellie in the hospital. He began to regress with visions of them from birth. Their first faltering steps and picnicking in the park came to mind, then Steve’s first attempt to ride his bike without the training wheels. Jamie smiled at his recollection of Ellie’s first day at school, skipping down the path holding hands with Steve to get into June’s car. His thoughts were interrupted, hearing the distinct sound of a police siren. He pulled over and into a side street turning off his lights. He sensed his heart rate increasing and then began to slow again in tandem with the fading whine.

  I must concentrate. The last thing he wanted was his emotions getting in the way of the task at hand. Looking at the time on the dashboard clock, he saw it was three-thirty. He turned back onto the road and continued his journey.

  All I need is for the police to get the DNA results back from Bill, and for Ellie and Steve to make a statement. Then I just have to hope Bill confesses, makes a connection to Jake and I’m in the clear. Only other alternative is to get Jake to talk. If the police didn’t still suspect me, I could tell them about the message and let them handle it.

  Approaching West Street, Jamie slowed down and turned into a side alley, parked the car and went to the trunk. He looked around his surroundings. The stillness of the night was broken only by the sound of dogs barking. Satisfied no one was watching, he opened the trunk of his car and rummaged about in his bag. He pulled out a black jumper and a black casual jacket, putting them to one side. Jamie took out the bulletproof vest, put it on and then slipped his jumper and jacket over the top. He pulled the ski mask out of his pocket and put it on his head like a cap. Checking his handgun was secure in his trouser belt; he put the flashlight in his pocket and closed the trunk. As it closed, he jumped as he heard the almighty crash of a garbage can falling over.

  Jamie crouched down at the rear of the car. A cat screeched by, with the sound of barking dogs on the chase. A window opened in one of the apartments and he could see someone scanning the alley. He stayed still, until he saw the window close and made his way down West Street on foot. Checking left and right the street was empty. Christ which way do I go? Crossing his fingers, he turned right.

  He nervously scanned the shops as he made his way along the street. The police station loomed large as Jamie approached. Two police officers stood in the doorway smoking cigarettes and laughing at their conversation as he made his way past. Jamie looked straight ahead. The police officers didn't give him a second glance. He didn’t dare look around but felt the hairs on his neck bristle. He carried on walking along the street and praying they wouldn’t call out to him. He ambled, for another five minutes, when he caught site of the deli. Christakos, Greek Delicatessen, the sign said over the shop. Jamie looked up, and over the top of the shop were apartment windows with the curtains closed. He carried on until he found an alleyway leading to the back of the shops and counted the rear entrances.

  Jamie stopped at a gate, he was sure it was the rear entrance to the Deli. Next to the gate was a parked car. He looked around carefully to make sure no one was watching. He moved his head close to the windshield to see if there was any clue as to the owner. He placed his hand on the hood. Still warm. He could make out an envelope on the dashboard. Without lights in the back street, he couldn’t make out the address. He took out the flashlight and gave it a short burst. “Mr. Jake Christakos.” Paydirt! He must live over the shop. He made his way from the car to open the gate and finding it unlocked, he entered the backyard.

  He moved toward the back door and looked up to see if there was an alarm system, but could see nothing. The door had both a Yale and five-lever lock and there was no chance of breaking the door down without someone hearing. Jamie looked at the window at the side of the door. There was no alarm tape or connectors on the opening. He turned his attention back to the door. The top panel of the door was security glass with internal wire mesh. The bottom was paneled with wood and looked like a later addition. Taking out the screwdriver from his pocket, it tangled with the handcuffs and they dropped to the floor. Jamie stayed motionless, sweat dripping from his brow onto his nose and then to his lips. He reached down to put the handcuffs back in his pocket and waited silently for time to pass.

  Satisfied he’d not disturbed anyone, Jamie took the screwdriver and began to lever the wooden panel. Slowly he worked his way around it as the nails gently gave way until it fell free. He sighed, a breath of relief. The glass behind the panel had been removed. Jamie scanned inside to look for any signs of a motion detector, but could see none. Maybe this near to the police precinct, he figured he didn’t need an alarm. He pulled down the ski mask and eased his way through the door.

  With the time at four in the morning, Jamie knew most people were at their deepest sleep. It was around this time they used to plan search and destroy missions in Bagdad for bomb making equipment. He also knew it was no good tiptoeing. The best method was to move swiftly, but as silently as possible. He made his way up the stairs and onto the landing. His only fear was that Jake’s mother would be there. At the top of the landing, there were five doors. The bathroom and kitchen doors were open, so he could discount those. He tried to orientate the layout and determined the door to his left would be the den, as it faced West Street, leaving him with two bedrooms. He quickly took out the flashlight, opened the first bedroom door and shone the light in the direction of the bed. The closet doors were open and it was empty. He glanced to one side and could see a pile of women’s clothing on top of the bed. Jamie felt a crunch under his feet and shone the flashlight down. The floor appeared strewn with broken ornaments, a woman’s robe cut into shreds at the foot of the bed. He moved quickly
to the next bedroom and turned off the flashlight. He hesitated at the door and, putting his hand in his pocket, pulled out one ring of the handcuffs, so that it hung outside his pocket.

  Jamie grasped the door handle and took a deep breath. Charging through the door, he switched on the flashlight and aimed it at the bed. Jake lay there on his back; his arms on top of the blanket stretched either side of him. In an instant, Jamie was on him, cuffing one wrist and turning him over to cuff the other, so that his arms were behind his back. Jamie knelt on his back and forced his head down hard into the pillow to muffle the sound of Jake’s surprise.

  “Be quiet or you’re dead,” ordered Jamie. Jake frantically kicked his legs and tried to remove Jamie’s grip. He shook his head, as he began to suffocate, the life draining from his body. Jamie waited until he went limp and released his grip. He felt for a pulse and then dragged him from his bed into the den. He flicked the light on as they entered. Jamie grabbed a dining chair and tied Jake to it. He looked around and saw a roll of duct tape on the table. He picked it up and began to secure Jake to the chair. Satisfied he was secure; Jamie hurried to the kitchen and filled a jug with water. Returning he threw it over Jake’s face and the man began to cough and splutter. He moved to the back of the chair, tore off his ski mask and put it over Jake’s head backwards. Pulling the gun from his belt, Jamie held the muzzle to one of the eye openings in the mask at the back of Jake’s head and pressed it firmly so he could feel the cold, hard steel.

  “Any screaming for help and I’ll blow your brains out,” ordered Jamie.

  “The money’s in the safe, please don’t kill me. I’ll give you the combination,” pleaded Jake.

  God he thinks I’m a robber. He looked around the room and noticed framed photographs of a woman with all the faces cut out. On the table, he could see textbooks on Forensics. Jamie wanted time to search the apartment and thought it best to play along with the robbery angle. He sat at the dining table, lifted the cover on Jake’s laptop and switched on the power.

  Jake responded when he must’ve heard Windows clicking up to a start.

  “Look, the computer works, just take it.”

  “Where’s the safe and what’s the combination?” asked Jamie menacingly, firing up the laptop’s web cam and pressing record. Jamie aimed it at Jake, careful to keep out of sight of the camera and moved it onto a chair, placing it in front of Jake.

  “The safe’s under the sink in the kitchen, two to the right from zero, three left and six to the right.”

  Jamie made his way to the bedroom and retrieved his flashlight from the bed. Entering the kitchen, he opened the cabinet door. Good place to hide a safe. Who’d think of looking where people usually put their detergents? Pushing a bucket to one side, he located the safe. Two, three and six, alternately from the left, and the safe popped open. He could hardly believe his luck. Hunting knife, congealed blood on the blade and handcuffs with a key. In the corner was a sheet of paper folded. Jamie took out his screwdriver, put it between the fold of the paper and used his flashlight to open it. On the sheet of paper were notes for the first two Crossword Killer messages, and Jamie noticed an ‘a’ changed to an ‘e’ on the second message. He turned his attention to the bottom shelf. Jamie moved a length of rope to one side, revealing a pile of money. He closed the safe and spun the wheel, returning to the room. No doubt now; Jake’s the killer.

  Jamie moved a chair behind the chair holding the computer, reached over and pressed pause on the recording and faced Jake. He opened the bullet chamber and took out all the ammo.

  “I have a gun,” said Jamie and clicked the barrel shut. “I’ve just taken out three of the six bullets, so that gives you a fifty-fifty chance,” he said spinning the barrel.

  “What do you mean ‘fifty-fifty?’ Ya got the fucking money, what else do ya want?”

  “Let’s not beat about the bush. You and I know you’re the Crossword Killer. I found your tools in the safe and the messages. It’s quite simple, just tell me in your own words what you’ve done and I’ll leave,” said Jamie and poised his finger over the record button.

  “Who are you?”

  Jamie held the gun aloft and squeezed the trigger. Jake flinched at the sound of the gun’s firing hammer as it clicked aloud.

  “Wrong answer, Jake. I’d say you’ve just cut your odds.” Jamie pressed the record button.

  “Like the power do you? Whoever you are. Does it excite you having power over someone? Ya got a hard-on have ya?” He snarled and stopped talking.

  Jamie paused the recording on the computer and squeezed the trigger again, this time leaning forward, holding the gun at arm’s length from Jake’s ear. The sound reverberated as Jake’s entire body jerked, almost toppling the chair.

  “Is that why you did it, Jake, for the power? What’s it like to feel the same terror as one of your victims? Only a twenty-five percent chance now. Do you want to risk it? I don’t mind either way. I’d love to see your brains dribbling down the wall.”

  Jamie pressed the record button and sat back.

  “Okay... don’t shoot. I’m the Crossword Killer. I wanted to be caught anyway, why do you think I left my nickname, ‘Mathematician’ in the anagram? I just didn’t think you’d work it out so fast with the connection to the Greek alphabet. Ya think I don’t know about terror?” he asked raising his voice. “Those women were slime. All women are slime. My ma was slime!” he shouted in a crazed voice trying to escape his bindings. “All my life all I’ve ever done is to be at her beck and call, just like the customers. ‘Do this, bring me that!’ When I was a kid if I didn’t do as my mother said, she’d tie me to the bed and beat me. After she died, I just wanted to find out what it felt like to have that kinda power over someone, to have the woman beg me, just how I begged my ma. The women we killed just wouldn’t be quiet like I’d learned to be as a kid. I had to shut them up. So I stabbed and stabbed ‘em, when ma revealed herself to show my contempt for the sluts they were!” he raged, then his head dropped and he stopped speaking.

  Jamie lowered the cover on the laptop, careful that the camera lens was still capturing Jake’s lower body. Pulling the tablecloth from the dining table to hide behind and making his way behind Jake, he pulled off the mask and put it on his own head. Then he returned to his seat. Taking hold of the cover of the laptop, he raised it in line with Jake’s head.

  Jake slowly looked up and stared at the computer, his eyes devoid of emotion. He started humming the tune to Yankie Doodle. Jamie reached forward and pressed stop, lifting the computer back onto the table.

  Jamie opened the Internet and linked to You Tube.

  “What’s your email address and password,” asked Jamie and pointed the gun at Jake.

  Jake didn’t argue and Jamie typed it in as he spoke to set up an account. Ready to upload the recording, he gave it the title of Crossword Killer. He watched, as the bar on the computer indicated the upload. Jamie gazed at the screen until he received the message the video had successfully loaded. Jake watched bewildered as Jamie searched for the local police site and Chief Hogan’s email. He titled his email Confession of the Crossword Killer and typed in Jake’s name and address. Sending an email to Chief Hogan, he attached a copy of the recording. Jamie searched for his attorneys’ site. Attaching the recording to another email, he sent it for the attention of Gail Fletcher.

  “Just one thing before I go, Jake, what’s your connection to Bill Davis and why did you choose the five women you killed?”

  “Five? I only killed two! I saw the others on the news. As for a Bill Davis, never heard of him.”

  “But you said, `We`?”

  Jake failed to answer.

  “What made you put the ‘e’ in your second anagram, as in I am ‘e’ maniac.”

  “I made a mistake that’s all. I spelt Mathematician wrong at first, using an ‘a’ instead of an ‘e’ so I just altered the ‘a’ to an ‘e’.”

  Jamie walked calmly over to Jake, grabbed his hair forcing back
his head and put the gun to his mouth.

  “Are you lying to me about the murders and Bill?”

  “I swear, I’m telling the truth, I only killed two, three if you count my mom, and I never heard of Bill Davis!” screamed Jake, starting to shake uncontrollably. He began to cry. Jamie heard a hissing sound and looking down saw a urine patch appear on Jake’s trousers. He released him and walked back to his chair, picked up the six bullets and showed them to Jake in the palm of his hand.

  “You bastard!” He stared at the six bullets and began laughing. He turned his head, “Did ya see that? He fuckin’ tricked us.”

  Jamie looked at him bewildered. Schitzo? He went into the kitchen for a cloth and returning he wiped the computer keyboard. Jamie looked across at Jake who was still laughing dementedly. Jamie shook his head, wishing he could put a bullet between his eyes to put him out of his stinking misery. But instead he turned and left, careful to wipe the door handles on his way out. Jake’s crazed laughter rang in his ears as he called out.

  “What do we do now my, friend?” he said and appeared to be talking to someone other than Jamie and then he started humming the tune to Yankie Doodle.

  Jamie made his way past the police station, allowing himself to smile and dodged the spray from a truck cleaning the streets. Relieved to be back at the car, he reversed out of the parking space and headed back to the cabin. Maybe Bill was working alone on the later murders. But how would he know to copy the crime scene? He wouldn’t know about the messages. Jake’s reaction to his question about Bill left Jamie in no doubt he told the truth. But fatigue was catching up with him and he could hardly think. Okay what if Jake is a schitzo? But then Bill did attack Ellie.

  Jamie pulled into the parking area of the cabin noticing light escaping from the widow of one of the bedrooms. Christ I hope that’s Stacy, but how do I let her know it’s me? I don’t fancy another dig in the ribs. He began to feel the pain in his side from the blow, as the adrenalin rush of the night’s events began to subside.