Fire in the Blood

by George McCartney

  ‘I like it,’ said Annie, looking around as if she was auditioning for the Escape to the Country show on afternoon television. ‘It’s surprisingly spacious and quite convenient for getting into the city as well.’

  Relieved that Burke had stopped silently staring and started to talk, she continued, ‘I’ve heard a fair bit of your back story, Thomas. I know that you feel pretty hard done by, the way things worked out.’

  Burke’s eyes instantly flashed with anger as he snarled and leaned towards her, ‘You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, girl. Hard done by doesn’t even begin to cover it, not by a long shot. I’ve just done eighteen years of hard time in jail, because that bastard Davidson planted evidence in my house and car and then stood up and committed bare faced perjury at my trial. He made me out to be a careless amateur criminal, somebody who didn’t know what he was doing and the jury believed him. Because a policeman couldn’t be telling lies under oath, could he? My arse, he couldn’t.’

  Annie immediately picked up on Burke’s sense of professional pride having been deeply insulted. She nodded sympathetically and said, ‘Okay, but I’m confused, Thomas. Can I ask you something?’

  ‘You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll answer,’ said Burke gruffly.

  ‘You’re angry because Jack Davidson committed perjury against you, I get that. And I know it’s true, because he admitted to me that he did it. But you did set fire to all those pubs, didn’t you? So, it might have taken a bit longer, but surely the police would have caught you sooner or later, anyway?’

  ‘Yes, but the point is I was never ever careless, I was a pro at lighting fires,’ said Burke bitterly. ‘People think it’s easy to start fires, but it isn’t. It’s more of an art, if you want to do things properly.’

  Annie recognised that Burke clearly had his own uniquely self-serving view of his crimes and the savagery of his past. Continuing his rant, he said, ‘Look there are supposed to be fucking rules about these things. The police can’t just go around making things up, in the absence of any real evidence. So we’ll never know, will we, if they would have got me. Because, trust me, I was good at what I did and always had a proper plan worked out. They made me out to be a crazy man, but the violence and the fires only ever happened when stupid people didn’t do as they were told.’

  ‘That is annoying, isn’t it,’ said Annie, with genuine feeling.

  ‘Are you taking the piss out of me, girl?’ he snapped.

  ‘No, I’m not, honestly,’ said Annie, quickly. ‘I mean everybody makes up death lists of the people we hate. For me it’s usually the shitty bosses at work, but ordinary people are too scared to ever do anything about it. I just wish I had your nerve to make a start.’

  Annie sensed that despite the bursts of anger, Burke was beginning to relax slightly and open up about his past. He took another drink and continued, ‘You see, the thing is, I was always a little thin skinned when I was younger, I can admit that now. The psychiatrists in prison said I had serious anger management issues and didn’t having adequate coping strategies for my “negative emotional cycles”. They also reckoned that I didn’t understand the difference between anger and rage. They got that bit right at least.’

  ‘So what would you say is the difference, you know, between anger and rage?’

  ‘Well what they say is that occasional anger is a normal, even healthy, emotion which can release tension and clear the air when, for example, two people are disagreeing about something. But rage is a totally different thing altogether that can, in some people, instantly flare up from nowhere into extreme violence, if the necessary behavioural trigger occurs.’

  ‘So I guess that the doctors in prison taught you how to manage these triggers?’ asked Annie, hopefully.

  Burke smiled bleakly and said, ‘Well they thought they did, that was the main thing. The problem is, I’ve never liked anybody telling me what to do, or criticising me. That’s always had consequences. But what I found out early on was that once you get past the first three or four killings … well, it’s just routine after that. A job that has to be done professionally, nothing more.’

  ‘Thanks for the tip, I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Annie, nodding. ‘But to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure why you’re even bothering with Jack Davidson. The truth is he’s a bit of a sad bastard. You maybe didn’t know, but he got thrown out of the police, after an internal inquiry, not long after your trial and then his wife divorced him. From what I’ve seen in the last couple of weeks he’s a borderline alcoholic who doesn’t even have any friends. And his business is on its last legs, that’s why he took me on.’

  Burke seemed to be genuinely interested in learning more about his sworn enemy, and asked, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s so old-school about everything, it completely does my head in. He’s completely stuck in a rut and thinks the world owes him a living. Hasn’t kept up with any of the new technology. Can you believe he was still using a fax machine up until two weeks ago, when I started work? If it wasn’t so pathetic, it would be funny. This is not somebody who’s been having a great life while you were locked up, believe me.’

  His dark eyes suddenly flashed again and he growled, ‘So what are you saying, girl? That I should start to feel sorry for Jack Davidson? Maybe just let this thing go and forget what he did to me? Believe me, that’s not how it works when somebody crosses Thomas Burke. There has to be a day of reckoning, even if it does take eighteen years. I’ve never forgotten a quote from a book I read in prison, by Heinrich Heine. He was a nineteenth century German poet, but I think he must have had a good bit of the Irish in him, because he said, ‘We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged.’ He was a rubbish poet, but a right smart feller, was old Heinrich. He knew a thing or two about human nature.’

  It suddenly occurred to Annie that she was probably the first person that Burke had spoken honestly to like this, for almost twenty years. Maybe ever. Sitting here in his caravan, feeling relaxed and safe with a drink in his hand and, crucially, in total control of the situation with literally the power of life or death over her, he actually seemed to be almost enjoying their conversation. Throughout his whole life he had lied to and conned all the psychiatrists, social workers and assorted do-gooders who had tried to look into his dark heart and assess his true feelings. But at the same time, she was under no illusions that the real reason he could be so open and honest with her was because he intended to kill her. And maybe sooner rather than later, to ensure that his shared secrets would never go beyond the four walls of this caravan.

  An hour later, with half of the bottle of vodka already gone, Annie could see that Burke was starting to feel the effects of the neat alcohol, but he was still chatty and, more importantly, had made no moves on her, beyond the creepy hair touching. But then, completely out of the blue, he suddenly asked her, ‘Do you know how long it is since I last had sex?’

  This was the moment Annie had been dreading most of all, when Burke got bored with talking and started to feel horny. The unanswered question, which had been nagging at the back of her mind was … is he the type who will get turned on by beating me to a pulp first, before raping me, or will he just get straight to it? Or, had the last hour and a half of, almost, civilised conversation, earned her a little bit of leverage with the madman? She inwardly repeated her survival mantra, ‘Don’t be a victim, Annie’.

  ‘Sorry, do you mean sex with another man, or with a woman?’ Annie blurted out in reply to his question, before biting her lip.

  Burke stared at her again, with a thin smile, and growled, ‘That’s funny … very funny, girl. I’ve killed people before, for making smart Alex comments just like that. I think you know exactly what I meant.’

  ‘Okay, look I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. But I honestly don’t know, it could be eighteen years or eighteen hours. I mean you’ve been out of prison for almost three weeks now, so surely you must have had the opportunity to, you kno
w, do something about it. If you really wanted to.’

  Burke was starting to slur his speech at this point, and he replied thickly, ‘Yeah, you’re right, and I did do something about it last week, with a junkie whore up one of those little dark lanes, somewhere near Central Station I think it was.’

  Annie wasn’t sure exactly what kind of response Burke expected from her, to this piece of news, and simply said, ‘Oh, that’s great then.’

  Burke slammed his glass down on the side table, spilling half the contents, and said sourly, ‘But that’s the problem, it wasn’t fucking great, at all. I don’t know what it was, could have been too many pints. But between you and me it wasn’t a great success. Maybe it was the stink from the rubbish skips, or the smell of cheap perfume and sweat coming off the dirty little whore in waves. Anyway I started off well, as they say, and then fell away. And, would you believe it, the little whore goes and makes the big mistake of laughing at me. So I punched her in the face a couple of times and then stuffed her into the skip. Cheeky cow. Trust me, she wasn’t laughing any more when I slammed the lid down on her head.’

  He got up, staggered slightly, and then stood behind her once again, gently stroking her hair. ‘But you now, Annie, you’re much younger, much prettier than she was. Such nice clean hair and you smell wonderful.’

  Oh shit, thought Annie, he’s doing the hair thing again and he’s started using my name for the first time, and his glass is empty. Say something to him quick, girl, for fuck’s sake, before he gets his dick out. She turned her head back towards him and forced what she hoped was a warm friendly smile. ‘Could I have a drink with you, Thomas? Just the two of us … I’d really like that.’

  Burke paused and frowned. Clearly sharing drinks and true confessions with his young female captive had not been any part of his original plan for the evening’s entertainment. Nevertheless he chuckled and said, ‘Okay then, but just the one mind. I wouldn’t want anybody to think that I had to ply you with strong drink before I had my way with you.’

  It was another small concession, which might delay the inevitable for another twenty minutes. Annie had frequently worked as a part-time barmaid in local pubs, when she was between office jobs, and had become a pretty good judge of the lecherous drunks who, when leering over the bar, often misconstrue a barmaid’s smile and polite conversation. The type of unrelenting bar room bores, who are often just one drink away from seriously fancying their chances.

  She’d learned when dealing with drunks, that it’s always the eyes that give the clue. When the glazed “full” signs roll over the eyeballs, like a pair of cherries on a one armed bandit, then it was usually time to call the bouncer over from the entrance door. Or if it was a quiet week night, as often seemed to be the case, she would have to try and handle the situation alone, keeping the baseball bat under the bar within arm’s length.

  She reckoned that Burke already had the “one cherry” look and that by the time he finished another large glass of vodka, both of his eyes would be comfortably in the “two cherry” zone. At that point all bets would be off and he might either pass out on the floor, or things might get really nasty.

  The obvious problem was that there was no bouncer on the door here, to rush to her aid, and no baseball bat either. She was immobilised, defenceless and completely at the mercy of Thomas Burke, who was bigger, stronger and armed with a knife and gun. Not a thought to dwell on, Annie. She decided that it was pointless to endlessly agonise about the chances of Jack, or the police, getting to Mossdyke in time to save her. Maybe the truth was that they didn’t have the slightest clue where to start looking. Maybe they were just hoping that Burke would make contact again, and then try to start some kind of negotiation with him.

  She kept inwardly repeating her survival mantra ‘Don’t be a victim, Annie,’ and tried to concentrate solely on the small things that she could do. Her main hope centred on a small knife hidden in the top of her right boot. As the threat posed by Thomas Burke had quickly escalated, she had decided that it would be prudent to carry it with her at all times, just in case. A wise precaution. But the problem was that now, when she really needed it, she couldn’t reach the damn thing because of the constraining handcuffs and rope. She also wasn’t a hundred per cent certain that the knife was still in her boot. Burke had obviously searched her pockets back in the park, because she could see her iPhone, keys and wallet lying on the side table next to his chair, but the little knife wasn’t visible. Would he have thought to look inside the top of her boots as well? Probably not.

  Despite the circumstances, she almost laughed out loud as she remembered how her Aunt Peggy, of all people, had given her the small slim, razor-sharp boot knife, which came with a black nylon sheath and chain, so that it could be worn around the neck as an alternative to concealment in a boot. She had explained the bizarre gift by saying, ‘You see, Annie, I find that having a wee blade like this just makes you feel safer, when you’re out walking on your own. There are so many junkies and nut jobs around here now, especially at night when I’m going back to my car. I’ve got a personal attack alarm, as well, that I keep in my pocket in case some no good bum jumps me. It makes a helluva racket, but if that doesn’t do the trick, then I’ll be looking to cut him a new arsehole with this. By the way, it’s also great for slicing onions.’

  ‘But aren’t you worried about stop and search, Auntie. I mean, this would be classed as an offensive weapon, no question,’ Annie had said, alarmed at this hitherto unknown side to the character of her sweet old aunt Peggy.

  Peggy had scoffed and said, ‘Offensive weapon my arse, it’s just a wee blade for self-defence, that’s all. And if some nice young policeman wants to take me into the back of his van for half an hour, to pat me down, well … go for it pal, I say.’ With a dirty laugh, she had continued, ‘And if he wants to give me a bit of warning, I’ll even freshen up my makeup and bring along a bottle of wine.’

  On the side table next to his chair, alongside the vodka bottle and glass, Burke also had a small laptop, which was open and switched on. He’d been casually checking the screen every few minutes all the way through their conversation and Annie was puzzled by this. But the screen was turned away from her and, since the volume was also turned off, there was no clue as to the subject matter on the screen, other than Burke’s unconcerned reaction.

  Then something happened on the screen, which immediately caught Burke’s attention, and he half got up from his chair to look closer, knocking his glass over in the process.

  ‘What’s the matter, Thomas? What’s happening?’

  He peered at the screen, smiled and then said, ‘You’re not going to believe this, Annie, but I think your boss is actually outside. I was hoping he might show up and I’m impressed that he found us so quickly. He must be a better detective than I gave him credit for. But if he’s come out here on his own, and it looks like he has, then he’s making a big mistake, believe me. I have a surprise lined up for him. He’s not the only one to find a use for sneaky little CCTV cameras. Yours were okay, but I’ve got two of the more expensive night-vision ones and they’re better hidden. One is on the front of the caravan and the other one covers round the back, both linked to the laptop. Better safe than sorry, I always think. Just in case any strange men come creeping round the place at night.’

  ‘I don’t think it could be him. He’s not the hero type, honestly. I mean there’s no way he would be brave enough to come out here alone to face a man like you,’ said Annie, trying to place doubt in Burke’s mind.

  Initially her heart had leapt at the thought that Jack had found her and she was going to be saved. But what if Burke was right and the idiot had come charging out here alone, instead of waiting for the police? If he had, it would be absolutely typical, pig-headed behaviour by him, thinking that he’s bloody Rambo, instead of an unfit middle-aged man. Wanting to go mano a mano with Thomas Burke, who is a good ten years younger, not to mention fitter after eighteen years of working out in a prison gy
m. And he has a gun. I honestly don’t think that the old brass knuckleduster is going to do it this time, boss.

  Her instinct was to shout out a warning, to try and take the initiative away from Burke, but he seemed to read her mind and, springing up from his chair, he held the blade of the lock knife pressed against her cheek and hissed, ‘Shut the fuck up. Right now, bitch. I mean it, not a sound or I’ll cut you bad.’

  Annie was astounded at how quickly Burke seemed to have sobered up, considering the quantity of vodka he had consumed. He said, ‘I think I’ll go outside and invite him in, Annie. We don’t want an old boy like him hanging around outside in the cold and dark, catching a chill. What do you think? We could have a threesome, that would be fun, wouldn’t it? Of course he won’t actually be taking part. He’ll be tied up on the floor, watching me catch up on eighteen years of my prison fantasies with you. Then I’ll spend maybe an hour or two working on Jack with my knife. And then, the big finish … with the tragic deaths of the entire JD Investigations workforce. Wiped out by a huge explosion and fire, which leaves nothing but a few bits of teeth, a bone or two and a great big pile of ash. Things really couldn’t have worked out any better, Annie. This is the perfect way for me to balance the books with Jack Davidson, and then move on with the rest of my life.’

  Unable to move, speak or otherwise influence events in any way, Annie could only listen as Burke thought out loud and adapted his plans on the fly.