‘Nine?’
‘Yes, the mother, seven chicks and the male. Funny it was, I’d never seen the male before that morning.’
Andrew Peters discovered Stephen Leather’s thrillers in the early ‘90s and has been enjoying them ever since, particularly the ones set in the Far East and the newer Jack Nightingale series. This Blood Bath story was written early last year, the day after Stephen posted his cover art, and in response to some daft comments on Facebook from one or two unimportant people of the Northern persuasion. It was great fun to write, but he never expected it to see the light of day until 70 years after Stephen’s death. He also wrote 10 books and 3 Kindle novellas of his own in 2012-2013, none of which plagiarise more famous writers (well, not so blatantly). Anyone wishing to improve his bank balance can find them at http://www.amazon.co.uk/Andrew-Peters/e/B008PDVKBM
Blood Bath
By Conrad Jones
It was a cold grey dawn, no longer dark but not yet light either. The headlights were still necessary for her to drive safely. Jenny McLean checked her reflection in the rear view mirror of her Audi. Her blond hair was scraped tightly to her scalp and tied up in a donut on the back of her head. Waiting for Jack was her pet hate but then he paid her wages, so she tolerated his tardiness. He had said twenty minutes at the most. The thought of climbing out of bed so early didn’t appeal in the slightest but there was something in his voice which worried her. He had said it was an emergency and to make sure that she wasn’t late. For Jack to use the word ‘emergency’ meant something catastrophic had happened. The urgency in her employer’s voice had trumped her need to sleep. Jenny didn’t let the fact that he employed her stop her from scolding him about making her wait, not that he paid any attention to her protestations anyway. Waiting for him was nothing new. The biggest problem at the moment was the early hour and the place where he had chosen to meet that bugged her. The drunks, burglars and lunatics were on their way home, while the workers were still in their beds clinging to slumber.
The Bayswater area of London where Jack lived was inhabited by a diverse group of cultures but early in the morning the Hyde Park area was awash with weirdoes. As the sun came up, it chased them out of the shadows and forced them to go home. She had only been parked for twenty minutes and three different people had already knocked on her window, two asked for change and the third was so drunk that he couldn’t string a sentence together. It wasn’t often that Jack needed her so early in the day and he said it was urgent so she was willing to persevere. When he called he had sounded anxious. No, he was more than anxious. She knew that he didn’t sleep well sometimes and he often sounded tired, but this morning he sounded different. He sounded frightened. She didn’t question his request to pick him up, nor did she quibble about the place he had chosen to meet. She was sure that he would explain when he arrived. She would insist that he explained.
A loud tap on the passenger window startled her. She was about to tell whoever it was to sod off, when she realised it was Jack. Jenny couldn’t see his face but his raincoat was unmistakeable. The central locking clicked open allowing him to open the door.
‘Have you been waiting long?’ he asked looking around before climbing in. He took a deep drag and then flicked what was left of a Marlboro into the gutter. The smell of tobacco wafted into the Audi behind him. He looked up and down the street furtively, ‘I got here as quick as I could.’
‘Did you come out of the park?’ Jenny frowned. She had been expecting him to come from the opposite direction. His demeanour was all wrong. Jenny could tell that he had been disturbed by something.
‘Yes,’ he muttered. He checked behind them again. ‘We need to get out of here. Drive towards Kensington.’ He sat back in the seat and wrapped the seatbelt over his shoulder, clicking it into place as the vehicle moved off. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly as if trying to calm himself. She hadn’t seen him looking so shaken for a long time.
‘Do you want to tell me what I’m doing here at this ungodly hour?’ She slid the Audi into light traffic. There was next to nothing on the roads. ‘And then you can tell me what you were doing in the park in the dark wearing that raincoat. You’ll get arrested.’
‘I always wear this raincoat,’ he shrugged and closed his eyes as he spoke. He ignored her attempt at humour. ‘Since when has being in possession of an old raincoat been a crime?’
‘Excuse me?’ she nudged him with her elbow. ‘When you were on the force it was a prerequisite to arrest, wasn’t it?’ she chuckled.
‘You’re not far wrong,’ he smiled for the first time, although there was no mirth in it. Locking up villains had been much simpler than what he did now. Sometimes he yearned to return to those times. ‘In my day, a man in a raincoat in the park after dark was as guilty as sin itself.’
‘And if he didn’t confess, you’d have beaten it out of him!’
‘How dare you?’ Jack scoffed. He half smiled and looked behind them again.
‘So,’ she said, steering the car around the park. ‘What exactly are we doing here?’
Jack shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. ‘We’re going to see an old friend of mine,’ he tilted his head as he spoke. Jenny knew that meant that he was being inventive with the truth. ‘He’ll be able to help.’ He paused, ‘I know what to do but I need to know that you will be safe first. You may have to stay there for a while,’ he took a breath as he thought about his next words. ‘You’re in grave danger, Jenny. You’ll have to stay there until I can sort this out.’
Jenny looked at him, her mouth open in surprise. She shook her head in disbelief. Sometimes working on the checkout at Aldi seemed like a desirable alternative career. After working with Jack as long as she had, nothing much surprised her any more but she had to admit that this time she was and it wasn’t a pleasant surprise. ‘Why would I be in some kind of danger?’ she asked incredulously. ‘What the hell can be so bad that I couldn’t even pack some underwear and a toothbrush?’
‘Trust me, it’s bad.’
‘Jack!’ she snapped. ‘That is not fair. I’m not a child, so don’t you dare treat me like one.’ She looked sideways at him. The steel in her eyes warned him not to try to bamboozle her with nonsense. ‘What exactly is going on?’
‘Pull in here,’ Jack sighed and took out his phone. She indicated left and guided the Audi to the kerb. The traffic was light enough to get away with it for now. In a few hours time changing lanes would cause havoc. ‘They sent me this last night,’ he said, as they stopped. He opened up the message and clicked on the attachment. Jenny squinted to look at the image as it opened and then came into focus. She took a sharp intake of breath and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Oh my God!’
‘I’m not sure where God is right now but he certainly wasn’t around when this happened.’ Jack sighed, as he looked at the screen. The image showed Jenny crucified upside down. Her hands, wrists and ankles had been nailed to a tree with metal spikes. Her throat had been slashed from ear to ear. A deep black gaping hole exposed her trachea to the world. Blood streaked her neck and face and her blond hair was matted and red. A silver vessel resembling a wide goblet had been placed beneath her to collect her life force as it flowed from her.
‘Oh my god!’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘How?’
‘Photoshop, I presume,’ Jack replied flatly. ‘They superimposed your image onto the victim. That’s why I couldn’t tell you on the telephone. If they’re watching you and you had an overnight bag, well, it wouldn’t take much to find you.’
Jenny looked up as a bus honked its horn at a cyclist who had wandered too far from the kerb. A black hackney cab slammed on its brakes, the rear lights illuminating for a second. Her eyes shifted back to the image. ‘You said victim?’ She looked at Jack to enlighten her. ‘What victim?’
‘I don’t know who she was,’ Jack swallowed hard and smiled thinly. ‘Whoever she was, she is nailed to a tree in the park.’
Jenny
now understood the angst she had heard in his voice earlier. Her imagination was running riot. Fear fuelled adrenalin coursed through her veins. ‘You saw this woman crucified in the park?’
Jack nodded and looked out of the passenger window. ‘We need to drive, Jenny,’ he turned to her. ‘I don’t think that I was followed. I checked. That’s why I was late but I can’t guarantee that you weren’t. He checked behind them again nervously. ‘We need to get to Kensington quickly. I’ll tell you about it on the way.’
She nodded and pushed the vehicle into gear. A space in the traffic appeared and she slotted into it. Her actions were those of an automaton. Shock had numbed her senses. Whoever the poor woman in the park had been, she had been butchered to send a message to Jack. Seeing her own face imposed onto the dead body had knocked her sideways. It looked so real. ‘Do you have any idea who is doing this?’ she asked quietly.
‘I can guess,’ Jack shrugged and sighed. ‘The crucifixion indicates Satanism.’ He shrugged. ‘If I had any doubts at all, the inversion of the crucifix and the exsanguination and collection of her blood, that’s concrete evidence that they’re Satanists.’
‘Do you think they’re going to try to kill you or something?’
‘No,’ Jack said, shaking his head. ‘If they wanted to do that then they could have done it this morning.’
‘Did you call the Police?’ Jenny asked biting her bottom lip.
‘They’ll find her soon enough and we can’t afford to waste time answering their questions. She was dead.’ Jack shook his head as if to dismiss the image from his mind. ‘I got a call telling me that the photograph was on the way and that I should go into the park and look at the oak tree, near to the statue of Peter Pan.’ He rubbed his hands together; the urge to smoke was making him tetchy. ‘When I saw the image, I thought it was you. I went to the park and the rest you know.’
‘They’re threatening you?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Jack shook his head as he answered. ‘This isn’t a crackpot making threats. It’s far too organised.’
‘So what are we dealing with?’ she glanced sideways nervously trying to read his expression.
‘I think it’s a statement of intent.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘They’re telling me, or should I say, showing me what they are intending to do to you.’ Jack looked at her and lowered his voice. ‘Hence the early-morning drive through London to get you somewhere safe. Whoever they are, they’re not going to go away. They’ve gone to a lot of trouble already. I need to get you safe, lure them out and stop them permanently.’
Jenny shivered and exhaled loudly. When Jack said he was going to have to stop them she knew what he meant. She could only think of one way to discourage people like them and she didn’t need to know any more details than that. The entire morning was a nightmare and it seemed obvious that it would only get worse. Jack shifted in his seat so that he could see the traffic behind them in the wing mirror. He scanned the vehicles carefully looking for someone who was too close or too interested in the Audi.
‘You’re making me nervous,’ Jenny said, scanning the rear view mirror.
‘Concentrate on driving.’
‘It is hard to concentrate when you’re acting skittish,’ she snapped. Her attention was taken by a motorbike behind them; the driver and pillion were both hidden by black visors. Suddenly, every vehicle was a threat. The motorcyclist to their left was a sinister assassin. The Suzuki saloon on her right was being driven by a psychopath.
‘Jenny!’ Jack shouted. He instinctively stamped on the brake pedal which unfortunately was fitted on the driver’s side. Jenny jumped with shock and looked through the windscreen to the road in front. The traffic had come to a stop at a red light. She slammed on and the Audi screeched to a halt stopping inches from the rear of a double-decker bus.
‘Jesus!’ she hissed, putting her forehead onto the steering wheel. He heart felt like it was about to punch through her ribs and jump out of her chest. She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry but this has got me spooked,’ she said.
‘Don’t apologise,’ Jack shook his head. He checked the mirror again and looked around the area. They had circumnavigated the park and were entering the Kensington area. ‘Pull into the drive-thru up ahead.’
Jenny tried to stop shaking as she indicated to swap lanes. ‘Is now the best time for an Egg McMufin?’ she muttered. Her nerves were shot.
‘I’m not sure there is ever a best time for one of those,’ Jack smiled thinly. He could see that she was taut. How could she not be? Someone had mocked up her death and slaughtered an innocent in the process. Whoever it was, meant business. They were hard core nut jobs. ‘However their coffee is undeniably caffeine rich. I need a cocktail of caffeine and nicotine to balance my system.’
‘I think we should be more concerned with who might be following us.’
‘Have faith,’ Jack said as the pulled onto the car park. ‘Go through the drive-thru and order a black coffee, then drive around again and order another one for yourself.’
‘What?’
‘Drop me off here,’ he pointed to a smoking shelter which had been erected for the staff. ‘I can see if anyone is tailing us and have a cigarette at the same time,’ he smiled and opened the door. ‘Make sure you go around twice, yes?’
‘I get it, Jack,’ she said shaking her head. He slammed the door and walked away. Jenny checked her mirrors and pulled into the drive-thru lane. There was nothing behind her when she pulled up at the speaker post.
‘Welcome to McDonald’s,’ the speaker crackled. Some bright spark had flung a ketchup covered pickle at the menu board. Jenny frowned as it looked like it had been there for some time. ‘May I take your order, please?’ Jenny checked her mirror again. A black transit van trundled into the drive-thru lane behind her. The driver had a beanie hat on his head and dark glasses, which Jenny thought was odd as it was barely light yet. ‘Hello?’ the voice cackled. ‘May I take your order, please?’
‘A large coffee, please.’ Jenny mumbled. Her attention was taken by the van. She looked for Jack but he had gone. He wasn’t where she had dropped him.
‘What type would you like?’
‘What?’
‘Coffee,’ the voice sounded irritated. ‘What type of coffee would you like?’
‘Oh, sorry,’ Jenny said distractedly. ‘Latte is fine.’ The van driver seemed to be looking straight at her in the mirror, but she couldn’t be absolutely sure because of the glasses. He was sat bolt upright and unmoving.
‘Is that large?’ Jenny heard the question but it didn’t register. The van drew closer to the rear of her car. So close that she could no longer see the headlights. ‘Hello?’ the speaker box cackled. ‘Do you want a large coffee?’
‘What?’ Jenny frowned and looked at the order screen.
‘Large?’
‘Yes. Large is fine.’
‘Any breakfast items with your order?’
‘For God’s sake!’ Jenny snapped. Her nerves were at the point of cracking, ‘I just want a coffee, okay?’
‘Drive to the second window to collect your order,’ the voice said, irritably. Jenny edged forward faster than she normally would have. The van edged up to the speaker box and stopped. As the space between them widened, she felt her fear subsiding. The driver leaned over to place an order. Jenny felt a wave of relief wash over her. She stopped at the window and handed over a five pound note. The cashier took it and handed her the change without a word, obviously irritated by her impatience. Jenny took her coffee from the order presenter and blushed a little. Biting the head off a teenager had not been on her list of things to do that day. She was probably either just starting or just finishing her shift. An obnoxious customer wasn’t what she needed either way. A pang of guilt bit her.
She pulled out of the drive-thru lane and drove around the car park. There was no sign of Jack anywhere. As she reached the back of the store, she noticed that the drive-thru lane was empt
y. A lone crew member was huddled in the smoking shelter puffing on his cigarette, as if it was to be his last. She guided the Audi back around the building and pulled up at the speaker box again. Her heart thumped uncontrollably when the black van followed her. The driver stopped the vehicle at the entrance to the drive-thru lane, confused by her actions. He wasn’t sure whether to enter the lane, where he would be funnelled through the drive-thru again, or to drive around the car park to the exit. The fact that he was hesitating and contemplating entering the drive-thru lane was enough to alert Jenny that he was suspect.
Jack appeared from nowhere, pulled the passenger open and jumped into the seat with a bump. He snapped the seatbelt on and closed the door in one movement. ‘Did you get coffee?’ he asked, looking at the driver of the black van.
Jenny gestured to the cup, her eyes fixed on the van which was thirty metres behind her. It crawled forward slowly and entered the lane. She watched as a black hackney cab pulled behind it, blocking it in. ‘Reverse as fast as you can,’ Jack nudged her. She looked confused. ‘Put the car into reverse, Jenny,’ he repeated, slowly.
‘What?’ she frowned and looked into his eyes. They were sharp and full of intelligence, tinged with a little bit of fear. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I want you to put the car into reverse and floor it,’ he explained calmly. ‘The radiator on those things sits very low. If you reverse as fast as you can, we should be able to disable it and stop him following us.’
Jenny nodded imperceptibly. The cogs in her mind clicked into place and she understood the plan. She sighed and pushed the gear stick into reverse. Looking over her left shoulder, she stamped on the accelerator. The tyres screeched and the Audi lurched backwards at speed. The engine roared and she watched the van driver’s expression turn from confusion to terror in seconds. He braced himself for the imminent impact and covered his eyes with his forearms. The Audi connected with the front of the van with a sickening crunch. The sound of shattering glass filled the air and coloured glass exploded from between the vehicles. A cloud of steam erupted from the front of the van. Jack was rocked backwards in his seat and Jenny let out a high pitched shriek.
Blood Bath (Seven Jack Nightingale Short Stories) Page 11
