The Spider's Web

by Ben Cheetham

  ‘What about you?’ whispered Reece.

  Jim removed the Taser from his jacket. His eyes brooked no argument. Reece strapped on the vest, extended the truncheon and nodded to indicate he was ready. They warily approached the gate. A bundle of chain and a padlock lay at the foot of one of the posts. Reece stooped to inspect it. ‘Cut,’ he mouthed silently.

  They opened the gate a little and slid through it. The trees instantly closed in, overshadowing the track. Jim pointed and Reece slunk into the shadows to the left. Jim stole along the track’s opposite edge. After three hundred metres or so, natural woodland of oak and other indigenous trees gave way to densely planted pines. Jim stopped abruptly and pointed again. Reece nodded to indicate he could see the motorhome parked in a space between the trees on his side of the track.

  They moved from tree to tree towards the vehicle. The curtains in the back of it were closed. There was no one in the front. Jim noted down its reg, then darted across the track and peered through the windscreen. A curtain had been drawn behind the driver’s and passenger’s seats. He moved around to the back door where Reece was waiting. They stood listening. Not a sound, except for birdsong. Jim motioned to the door handle, and as Reece reached for it, he raised the Taser into firing position. Reece’s hand hesitated. He looked over his shoulder, mouthing, ‘Do you hear that?’

  From somewhere amongst the trees, carried on the breeze, came the faintly audible sound of music. Jim pointed. ‘It’s coming from over there.’

  ‘Sounds like a flute.’

  They exchanged a meaningful glance. During their research into the Horned God, they’d both come across images of the pagan deity playing a flute. They headed into the trees. The music grew louder and faster, echoing through the woods, bouncing off the tree trunks, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. Suddenly it stopped. They stopped too. Then came a man’s voice, which, with its Brummie accent, surely belonged to Gavin. They moved towards it. A second voice rang out in reply, so close that both detectives dodged for the cover of an oak tree. They exchanged another glance. Did Gavin have an accomplice with him? Jim sneaked a look around the tree and got his answer. On the ground a short distance away was a portable CD player from whose speakers boomed the second voice.

  ‘Bless this union with all earthly pleasures,’ whispered Reece. ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

  It was sickeningly obvious to Jim what it meant. Taser at the ready, he advanced past the CD player. Gavin replied to the supposed voice of the Horned God, his own voice thickened by lust. A distinctly female scream tore through the woods. Jim broke into a run. A bizarre sight greeted him as he emerged into a sun-splashed clearing. A stocky man wearing a two-horned skull cap and a skirt of ribbons was lying on top of Emily. The man had Emily’s wrists pinned and was prising her legs apart with his knees. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn’t hear Jim’s approach. Jim took aim and fired. The Taser wires shot out and its hooks embedded themselves in the man’s back. There was a crackle of electricity and he cried out convulsively. Emily squirmed from beneath him. She fought to disentangle something from both their wrists. Then she scrambled to her feet, panting, sobbing.

  ‘Police!’ Jim made a sweeping motion. ‘Move away from him.’

  Emily looked at him as though she doubted he was real. The man tried to push himself upright. Another jolt of electricity flipped him onto his back, teeth clamped together, arms bent and rigid. His face was painted red and beardless, but his eyes were unmistakable. ‘It’s our man!’ Jim called to Reece. He pointed to the scabbard on Gavin’s belt. ‘Get his kni—’ He was cut short by the breath rushing between his lips as someone slammed into him from behind, sending him sprawling. He released the Taser and tried to scramble to his feet. A knee drove into the small of his back. Powerful hands twisted his arms up behind him. As he fought to force enough air into his lungs to shout a warning to Reece, he felt the bite of steel handcuffs on his wrists.

  ‘What… what…’ stammered Emily, her eyes bewildered saucers.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ ordered Jim’s assailant. ‘You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.’

  Jim’s mouth gaped wordlessly. The sound of the voice left him even more breathless than the blow to his back had. It was Reece!

  Gavin climbed to his feet, reaching around to yank out the Taser prongs. He stared nervously at Reece. ‘Are you one of us?’

  ‘No,’ Reece stated coldly. He gave a jerk of his chin. ‘Get the fuck out of here.’

  Gavin glanced at Emily.

  ‘Don’t look at her,’ snapped Reece.

  ‘She’s mine.’

  ‘Not any more. Now go on, move your fat arse.’

  Gavin darted his tongue uncertainly across his lips. With a sudden movement, he drew his knife and sprang at Emily. Reece sprang forward too. He was faster than the older man whose central nervous system was still reeling from being zapped by hundreds of volts. As Gavin reached to curl his arm around Emily’s throat, Reece hit it with the truncheon. Gavin gave a yelp, but didn’t drop the knife. He lunged at Reece’s midriff. The blade deflected off the stab vest. Reece whipped the truncheon down again, catching Gavin a heavy blow on the skull cap. There was a crack of breaking bone and one of the horns shattered. Gavin’s legs wobbled. He dropped to one knee and thrust the knife upwards. Reece grunted as the blade sank into his inner right thigh. He staggered backwards, catching hold of Emily and dragging her with him.

  Gavin straightened groggily, still clutching the bloodied knife. Reece pushed Emily behind himself and raised the truncheon. Fucking try it, his eyes said to Gavin.

  Gavin’s tongue flicked across his lips again. He gave Emily a look of pained longing. ‘We will be together, my love.’ He paused as if for dramatic effect, before adding, ‘By the horns of Cernunnos, I swear it!’

  He retreated to the edge of the clearing, turned and ran.

  When the sound of Gavin’s footfalls had faded into the distance, Reece turned to Emily. ‘Are you OK?’

  She looked at him as though he was speaking a foreign language. He swayed suddenly then regained his balance. He felt his injured thigh and looked at his hand. His fingers were soaked with blood. He unbuttoned his jeans and gingerly slid them down. Blood jetted from the red slit of the wound. ‘Oh shit,’ he said, vainly trying to stem the bleeding with his hand.

  ‘Uncuff me,’ Jim said urgently. ‘We need to get a tourniquet on that leg.’

  Reece stripped off his shirt and tied the sleeves around his leg a couple of inches above the wound. Blood spurted fitfully from it as, with his jeans around his ankles, he staggered towards the trees.

  ‘Don’t be foolish, Reece,’ continued Jim as his partner stooped to search the ground. ‘Let me help you.’

  Reece picked up a stick, slid it under the knotted sleeves and began to twist. The blood slowed to a steady stream, then a trickle. Suddenly, the knot came loose. He tried to retie it, but his fingers were fumbling and clumsy as though numbed by cold. He swayed again, fell back heavily against a tree and slumped to the ground.

  ‘Emily!’ Jim shouted. She stared at Reece blankly, showing no sign of having heard. ‘His femoral artery’s been cut. If you don’t do as I say he’ll be dead in minutes.’

  Blinking as though coming back to herself from some far-off place, she turned to him. ‘You need to retie the knot and twist the stick in it,’ he continued. ‘Quickly now.’

  As Emily knelt by Reece, Jim rolled onto his side and used his elbow to push himself to his knees. He rose to his feet, hurried to peer over Emily’s shoulder and saw that she’d managed to stop the worst of the bleeding. ‘Well done, Emily,’ he said, dropping to his haunches. ‘Now keep one hand on the tourniquet and put the other in my right jacket pocket. There’s a bunch of keys in there. Take it out.’ Emily did so and Jim added, ‘You see the small black key. Use it to unlock the handcuffs.’

  There was a click and the cuffs fell open. From the direction of the t
rack came the sound of an engine starting up. Jim quickly removed his mobile phone from his jacket. Then he took the jacket off, bundled it up and pressed it against Reece’s thigh. Reece groaned and looked at him with glassy, fluttering eyes. ‘I had to do it, Jim,’ The words came in a thin whisper. ‘Staci was dying and there was nothing I could do. They contacted me, offered to pay for her treatment.’

  ‘Who’s “they”?’

  Reece gave a weak shake of his head. ‘They’ll let her die if I tell you. I’m sorry, Jim.’

  ‘It’s OK, Reece. It doesn’t matter now.’ The engine noise was fading into the distance. Jim looked hopefully at his mobile phone. There was no service. He turned to Emily. ‘I’ve got to find some reception and call for help. You need to stay here and keep the pressure on the wound. Do you understand?’

  Emily’s eyes were frightened, but she nodded.

  In what seemed to Jim like an eerie half-echo of Anna’s parting words, Reece said, ‘Don’t tell Staci what I did.’

  Jim looked at his partner with sad, soft eyes. He felt no anger towards him. How could he? Staci was Reece’s love, his reason for living. He’d only done what he had to do, what anyone would have done in the same situation. ‘I’ll be back soon. You just hold on.’

  Jim sprinted through the woods. When he reached the track, he checked his phone. The reception bar had jumped up a couple of notches. He dialled and put the phone to his ear. ‘This is DCI Jim Monahan, I have an officer down in need of urgent medical assistance,’ he breathlessly told the dispatcher. For the second time that day he was informed that an air ambulance was on its way. He gave a description of Gavin and his vehicle, before heading back into the trees.

  ‘Help!’ he heard Emily crying out. ‘Help!’

  Ignoring the familiar constricting sensation in his chest, Jim put on an extra burst of speed. When he reached the clearing, Reece’s eyes were closed, his head was sagging to one side and there was a telltale bluish tinge to his lips. Jim felt for a pulse. He couldn’t find one. ‘How long’s he been like this?’

  ‘I… I’m not sure,’ Emily stammered. ‘Maybe a minute. He seemed OK, but then he just kind of closed his eyes. Is he breathing?’

  In answer, Jim manoeuvred Reece flat onto his back. He checked the inside of Reece’s mouth was clear. Lacing his fingers together, he placed the heel of his hand on Reece’s chest and pressed down hard. After thirty compressions, he tilted Reece’s head, pinched his nose and breathed twice into his mouth, watching to make sure his chest inflated. Then he resumed the compressions. Over and over, he continued the cycle. Thirty compressions, two breaths, thirty compressions, two breaths… Reece showed no sign of responding. Sweat glistened on Jim’s face. His breathing was ragged. His heart felt ready to burst.

  ‘You’re going to have to take over,’ he gasped at Emily. He took hold of the tourniquet and improvised bandage.

  Emily began the compressions, looking at Jim as if to say, Am I doing this right?

  ‘Harder,’ he said. ‘Keep a steady rate… Now two breaths… That’s it, you’re doing good. Keep going.’

  Jim’s eyes anxiously swept the sky. Twilight was seeping in; the ghost of a moon was visible. There was no sign of the air ambulance. And when it arrived, the paramedics were going to need guiding to Reece. Jim unlaced his shoes. With one lace, he secured the torsion stick to Reece’s leg so that the tourniquet couldn’t loosen. With the other, he bound his jacket over the wound. ‘Take a rest,’ he said to Emily.

  They were exchanging places for the fifth time when they heard the whoomp-whoomp of rotor blades. ‘I have to fetch the paramedics,’ said Jim.

  Emily opened her mouth to say something. But before she could, Jim added, ‘Save your breath for him.’

  He kicked off his laceless shoes and, on legs that felt like rubber tubes, ran back into the trees. He’d rather have remained with Reece, but in her obviously drugged state Emily might easily become disorientated in the woods. Besides, although he desperately refused to admit it to himself, he knew in his overstrained heart that it wouldn’t make any difference who stayed or went. The paramedics were too late.

  22

  A crushing sense of déjà vu weighed on Jim as he sat in the hospital corridor with his head resting in his bloodstained hands. Oh Christ. Dead. Reece was dead. The paramedics had confirmed it at the scene. Margaret was dead. Amy was dead. Everyone he loved or got close to died. It was like he was cursed. He wanted to run out of there and keep running until he found some place where he was absolutely and truly alone, where no one could hurt him and he could hurt no one. But the same feelings that made him want to run, pinned him in place. His fingers dug into his pounding skull as he thought of all the faces, all the grief. If he left now it would all have been for nothing. And anyhow, if he was cursed there was no point running. The only way he knew to break a curse was by destroying those who’d cast it. His mind began to grimly reel off the list of names he felt he’d lived with his entire life – Sebastian Dawson-Cromer, Rupert Hartwell, Andrew Templeton, William Howell, Thomas fucking Villiers—

  ‘DCI Monahan.’

  Jim jerked his head up and found himself looking at a female doctor. ‘How is she?’

  ‘There are no signs of rape. Apart from some cuts and bruises, she should be fine when the effects of the hallucinogen she’s ingested wear off in a few hours. Right now, though, she’s not making much sense. She keeps going on about a horned man.’

  ‘If you’d seen what she’s seen that would make perfect sense.’

  ‘She’s refusing to give us any information about her next of kin. Have you contacted her family?’

  ‘No, and neither should you. Will you please take me to her?’ Dizziness swirled through Jim as he stood up. He put a hand out to steady himself on the wall.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t look it. Your colour’s way off. Before I take you to Emily, I’d like to check your blood pressure.’

  Reluctantly, Jim followed the doctor into a curtained cubicle. He perched on a trolley bed as she took his blood pressure. She listened to his heart with a stethoscope and asked him to take several deep breaths. ‘You’re showing signs of arrhythmia and your blood pressure is high. Do you have any history of heart problems?’

  ‘I had a heart attack last year,’ Jim admitted. ‘But that’s all sorted now. I’m just stressed, that’s all.’

  ‘Maybe, but if I were you I’d err on the side of caution. My advice is, go home and rest and if your symptoms worsen—’

  ‘Thanks for your concern, Doctor,’ interrupted Jim. ‘But I really need to speak to Emily right away.’

  ‘OK. Have it your own way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  The doctor led Jim to a cubicle where Emily was lying on a bed with a nurse watching over her. The green dress had been replaced by a hospital gown. She looked at Jim with eyes that were still glassy and dilated. Eyes blank with shock and despair. His heart constricted in a different way as he thought of the carefree girl he’d watched laughing with her friends only a day ago. That girl was dead too now.

  The doctor pointed to a plastic bag containing the dress. ‘I thought you might need it for evidence.’

  Jim nodded his thanks. As the doctor and nurse left the cubicle, Emily asked, ‘Have you caught Gavin?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Jim. Seeing fear flash over her face, he added reassuringly, ‘But we will. We found him once and we’ll find him again. It’s only a matter of time.’

  ‘How did you find us?’

  ‘We tracked Gavin’s phone.’

  ‘Well, can’t you track it again?’

  ‘We’re trying, but it seems to be switched off.’

  Emily’s eyes faded away from Jim. ‘He could be anywhere,’ she murmured, twitching as though a cold hand had touched her. ‘He could even be in this hospital.’

  ‘Wherever he is, he won’t get near you again. There’ll be a police guard on you day and n
ight until we catch him.’

  ‘But what if the guard is one of them, like that other policeman?’ She used the word them as though she was referring to some invisible, omnipresent group of beings.

  ‘They won’t be. I’ll make sure of that.’

  Emily looked at Jim with the desperate desire to believe what he was saying. ‘Gavin thinks he’s got magic powers or something. He said anything’s possible so long as you believe in the Horned God. Do you think he’s crazy?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I know he doesn’t have magic powers. He’s just a man. A warped, pathetic man.’

  Her features contracted. ‘He’s my dad.’

  Jim said nothing. What could you say in the face of such merciless truth?

  Emily’s eyes drifted again. She hugged her arms across herself, lips moving as if in silent prayer. Jim waited for her to come back to herself, then said, ‘I know it’s difficult right now, Emily, but I need you to focus and tell me everything that’s happened to you since this morning.’

  Emily squeezed her eyes shut with the effort of putting her scrambled thoughts into order. She began with the phone call from Lindsey Allen. Jim took notes as she described how she’d arranged to meet Gavin, the journey to the forest, the hollow tree, the things he’d said about the Horned God, about living in a world where there was no right or wrong. Her voice faltered when she came to the fight between him and Anna. Tears swelled into her eyes. ‘I had his knife in my hand. I could have saved Anna.’

  ‘You did save her,’ said Jim. ‘She survived.’

  The tears spilled over. She wept softly with relief for a few seconds, before wiping her eyes and saying more to herself than Jim, ‘I have an aunt.’

  ‘And another grandma.’ The DNA test results weren’t in yet, but Jim had no doubt they would back up his words. And he saw how badly Emily needed something – some glimmer of future hope – to hold on to. ‘A grandma who I’m sure will be desperate to meet you. But that’s for another time. Right now we need to concentrate on the task before us.’