Face Book: A disturbing novel full of shocking twists

by Paul Johnson-Jovanovic

  ‘Can we just get on with this,’ Collins said, pushing the door shut. ‘Do her and be done with it.’

  Sarah went to scream, so Henderson put his hand over her mouth. ‘Ah-ah-ah, nah-nah-nah,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You try that again and I’ll cut your tongue out. Do we have an understanding?’

  Eyes wide, Sarah nodded.

  Henderson removed his hand.

  ‘The police do regular patrols around here,’ Sarah said. ‘They’re due any time.’

  ‘Is that so,’ Collins said. ‘All the more reason for you to hurry up then, Heno.’

  ‘I will not be rushed,’ Henderson said. ‘Good loving takes time.’

  ‘You don’t exactly look up to it,’ Sarah stated, noting how pale and drawn Henderson was. ‘You look drunk.’

  ‘I’m always up to it,’ he said, licking his lips.

  The stench of whisky on his breath made Sarah feel sick.

  Someone knocked on the front door. Pushed it open. It was the old man from across the hall: Mr. Broderick. Through narrowed eyes, he looked at Sarah, Henderson, then, eyes widening, he took in the gunman. Time had withered the old man's body, but not his senses. Without a word, he turned around and ambled towards his apartment. One step. Two steps – whoomp. Collins put a bullet in his back. Letting out a low moan, the old man wilted face-first into the hallway. Collins placed his weapon inside his jacket.

  ‘NO!’ Sarah yelled.

  She tried to get up, so Henderson shoved her back down.

  ‘What did I tell you I was going to do?’ he said. ‘You scream again and I will cut your tongue out.’

  Grabbing the old man by the heels, Collins dragged him into Sarah’s flat like he was pulling a sack of rubbish. He stood in the hallway, listening. Then, seeming satisfied that no one else was going to come snooping, he closed the door and positioned himself in front of it, arms folded.

  He said to Henderson, ‘You need to get a shift on.’

  ‘Okay,’ Henderson said. ‘Let’s get this party started.’

  Scrambling to her feet, Sarah made for the kitchen to get a knife. She took two stumbling steps before Henderson's fist crashed into the side of her face. The last thing she heard before unconsciousness took her was him saying, ‘Now that’s fabulous! Utterly fabulous!’

  ####

  After the police had gone, Derek and Chris told Nelson they wanted a word with him upstairs.

  ‘Why?’ Nelson asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘What’s to say that can’t be said down here?’

  ‘Your bro’s – our friends – were murdered in this room,’ Chris said, ‘so I’d feel more comfortable if we went upstairs. But if you wanna talk in here, no problem. Jevon’s blood is on the floor over there.’ He nodded to where Jevon had been shot. ‘And Willis’s blood is over there …’

  ‘Okay,’ Nelson said. ‘Point taken, man.’ He gestured Derek and Chris to lead the way, which they did. ‘Sooner we get the talking out the way, sooner we can mash these bastards up.’

  Once they were in the living area, Derek grabbed Nelson from behind, getting him in a choke hold.

  ‘Wharra … doing?’ Nelson said, struggling to get free. ‘Ger off me!’

  ‘Don’t just stand there,’ Derek said to Chris. ‘Help me!’

  Together they muscled Nelson towards the storage room in the hall.

  ‘Ger off me!’ he screamed. He dropped his weight, so it was difficult to move him. ‘GER OF MEEEEEEE!’

  Derek and Chris tried to push him through the doorway, but he spread his legs and put his feet against the jambs.

  ‘You ain’t getting me in there!’ Nelson said, pushing back. ‘You ain’t getting me in there!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Chris said, ‘but this is for the best.’

  Kicking one of Nelson’s legs away, he and Derek shoved him into the room. But still he resisted, holding onto the jamb with his fingertips.

  ‘You’d only get in the way,’ Derek explained, peeling his fingers off and, with Chris’s help, thrusting him backwards. Nelson landed on his rear with a thud and Derek felt a tinge of guilt.

  Nelson scrambled to get up, but before he could, Chris closed the door. Locked it.

  ‘Lemme out!’ Nelson yelled, banging away. ‘You can’t do this without me! Lemme out, you pair! Lemme out!’

  ‘D’you think it’ll hold?’ Chris asked Derek.

  ‘Dunno,’ he replied. ‘Either it will or it won’t. We can’t hang around to find out.’ He checked his watch: 23:34. ‘Time to go.’

  ‘LEMME OUUUTTTT! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! LEMME OUUUUTTTTTTT!’

  The sound of Nelson’s protests faded as they made their way down the stairs, into the snooker hall.

  Chris said, ‘What if someone visits while we’re gone? Those twats might come back to try and finish us off. With the lock busted, we've no way of securing the place.’

  ‘What, tonight? So soon after this?’

  ‘Burglars sometimes do a house a night or two after their first foray, 'cause they don’t think people’ll suspect they’d try again so soon.’

  ‘We’ll just have to hope no one drops by. It’d be more dangerous to take Nelson with us than leave him here. Do you agree?’

  Chris did. So he pulled the door to and left.

  ‘We picked a great night for this,’ Chris said, cursing the rain as they ran towards Willis’s BMW.

  ####

  ‘Are you coming to bed?’ Philip asked Dawn.

  ‘I’ll be through in a minute,’ she said.

  She was sitting on the edge of the settee, watching the news. Unable to take her eyes off the screen.

  Standing in the doorway, arms folded, Philip said, ‘There’s nothing new. It’s just repeating the same stuff over and over. Come to bed.’ He brightened a little. ‘Hey, who knows, by morning your buddies might even have caught him.’

  ‘What makes you think it’s a man?’

  ‘I can’t imagine any women having the capability to be so brutal.’

  ‘History is littered with insane women. Once again, you underestimate the opposite sex.’

  ‘I never underestimate you, Dawn.’

  When she had seen the newsflash – man has face cut off in brutal attack – her first thought was: Ward. She had been sure she would have to go back to work to investigate the crime scene. But then she’d realised it was a man who’d been killed. Ward had a fetish for women – young women. Which meant that it probably wasn’t him. So was there a copycat killer on the loose? Another weirdo who was as unhinged as Ward? This seemed to be the case.

  ‘Just when you think things can’t get any crazier, something like this happens,’ Dawn said. ‘What with this and the shootings at the snooker hall, plus all the other crazy stuff that’s going on out there, it makes you want to lock your house down and never set foot out the front door.’

  Philip switched the TV off.

  ‘Enough is enough,’ he said. ‘We’re turning in. Safest place for us is under the covers, cuddling up.’

  He took Dawn by the hand. Led her upstairs, towards the bedroom, switching lights off as they went.

  ####

  Parked in the same spot outside Byron’s mansion, Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. It didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do, loitering here so soon after the first kill. But Jack couldn’t wait. He wanted to strike at Byron and his men before Byron figured out who’d iced one of his boys.

  So Jack played the waiting game again.

  He put his knife on the passenger seat, within easy reach.

  Patiently, he bided his time …

  ####

  Derek and Chris adopted the same strategy as Jack. They parked outside the mansion. Facing the opposite way, they kept the engine running because Chris was cold. He shuddered. Made an exaggerated shiver. The windscreen wipers were set to intermittent. They squeaked as they cleared rain away.

  ‘How long are we gonna stay here?’ Chris said. ‘And what are we waiting for, exactly?’ I don
’t wanna just sit around; I wanna put holes in someone.’ He had a gun in his lap. Raising it, he pretended to lease off a shot. ‘I wanna do something!’

  ‘Watch where you’re waving that thing; I don’t want a bullet in me, thanks. And keep it out of sight. Somebody sees you with that and we won’t be putting holes in anyone, ‘cause we’ll be in prison.’

  Chris settled the Beretta back in his lap, then put the radio on. It was tuned to the news channel, so he went to change it to Beats FM.

  ‘Hold up,’ Derek said, stopping him.

  ‘Sod the news, let’s get some music on.’

  ‘Shh! I wanna to hear this.’

  Along with the shootings at 147, the headline was the killing at the Fox and Faucet.

  ‘Did he just say someone’s had their face cut off?’ Chris said.

  ‘Ah-yep. Looks like there’s a whacko on the loose.’

  ‘Bet it’s that Face Book Killer. What’s his name? Ward?’

  ‘Could be. I think he’s still on the run. Either that or it’s a copycat killer.’

  ‘Wow. There’s some sick bastards out there. It’s a dangerous world we live in.’

  ‘It certainly is.’

  Sitting forwards, Derek shifted to his right so he could see down the street better.

  ‘S’up?’ Chris asked, leaning over, trying to look. ‘What’s going on?’

  Derek pushed him back. ‘Don’t clamber all over me.’

  ‘Tell me what’s going on then.’

  Derek waited for the wipers to clear the rain again, then said, ‘There’s someone in a car down there, in the Astra. I only noticed ‘cause they just moved and they’re a distance away.’

  ‘What are they doing?’ Chris said, desperate to see.

  ‘Nothing. He’s just sat there.’

  ‘It’s a he?’

  ‘I don’t know, it’s too dark. All I can see is a silhouette.’

  ‘Maybe it’s that copycat killer. Maybe he’s casing out his next victim.’

  ‘I’ll give you to him if you don’t shut up!’

  ‘All right, chill out.’

  ‘Please remember why we’re here and what happened earlier. This is no time for jokes. We need to be focused, yeah?’

  ‘I am focused.’

  ‘Could have fooled me.’

  ‘So what are we gonna do about the person in the car? Could be someone or no one.’

  ‘Before we do anything else, we need to know.’ Derek surveyed the situation. The gate to Byron’s mansion was between them and the Astra. On the other side of the street, beyond the pavement, was an embankment. ‘If I get out, I’ll be seen, so you’ll have to do this. Keep low and use parked cars for cover. Go far enough back so you can get across the street without being noticed, then get yourself down that embankment. You have to get around the back of that car and surprise the fucker.’

  ‘I’ll get drenched!’

  ‘Yes, you will. Now get gone.’

  Chris went to get out, but paused. ‘What do I say? If it’s one of Byron’s men, he's hardly gonna admit it.’

  ‘Use your common sense and instincts. Jeee-zus, do I have to tell you how to do everything? Let me know when you need a shit and I’ll wipe your arse for you.’

  ‘You’re no help, d’you know that?’

  ‘Will you get going!’

  Reaching up, Derek flipped the interior light switch so it wouldn’t come on when Chris opened the passenger door.

  Chris put his gun inside his jacket.

  ‘Make sure you keep that thing out of sight until necessary,’ Derek said.

  ‘I always get the shit jobs.’

  ‘Someone’s gotta do these things.’

  ‘Yeah, me. Always me.’

  Keeping low, Chris opened his door. Stepped out.

  ‘Be careful,’ Derek advised. ‘Be ready for anything.’

  ‘I will.’

  Still keeping low, Chris shut the door, then took off.

  ####

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ Jack said, crossing his arms over the steering wheel and sitting forwards. Every few seconds he pressed the wiper stick to clear rain off the screen. ‘And what are you waiting for? You’re either a cop or one of Byron’s men or a nobody? Which is it?’

  Jack considered driving away, but didn’t. If it was police or a Byron hood, fleeing wouldn’t do any good. They’d have his reg, so they could trace him. He decided that he needed to find out who was in the BMW and why they were just sitting there.

  A black guy appeared to Jack’s right. Tried to open the door.

  ‘Fucking hell!’ Jack said, recoiling sideways. He looked up at the black guy, who gestured him to wind the window down.

  ‘What do you want?’ Jack asked.

  Making the same gesture again, the black guy opened his jacket and Jack saw a gun. Then Jack was staring down its barrel, amazed at how stupid he’d been, coming back here so soon. He pressed the button for the electric window and dropped it a few inches.

  ‘You’ve got me, pal,’ Jack said. ‘You may as well pull the trigger. Get it over and done with.’

  The black guy stared at Jack and Jack wondered why. Then he remembered the scarring and hated the black guy for it. As if on cue, a car drove past, its headlights highlighting Jack’s ruined face.

  ‘What’s with the hoodie?’ the black guy asked.

  ‘It’s a fashion accessory.’

  ‘Don’t be smart with me.’

  ‘If you looked like I do, wouldn’t you wear one?’

  ‘Why have you got that blade?’ the black guy said, nodding towards the knife on the seat. ‘And what’s in the bag?’

  ‘That’s not a knife; it’s my toothpick.’

  ‘What did I say about being smart?’

  ‘Please stop pointing that gun at me. You’re making me nervous.’

  ‘That’s the idea, man. Now what are you doing here? You’re one of his men, aren’tcha? You’re a Byron hood?’

  This was not the direction Jack had expected the conversation to take.

  ‘I thought you were one of his men,’ he said.

  The black guy looked surprised. ‘Don’t play games with me,’ he said, rain dripping down his face. ‘I’ll kill you if you piss me around anymore. Just tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.’

  He looked up the street, towards the BMW.

  Jack stared at the piece that was being brandished at him. A Beretta. Nice. Reliable. He knew guns. Aside from using them in the war, he’d frequented the Boxford Shooting Range many times. He’d loved nailing targets. Until Eleanor had forced him to quit on account she didn’t like him playing with firearms. Given Jack’s current troubles, he wished he’d ignored her. He could have done with being fresh and honed in that respect.

  ‘You better take the safety off first,’ he said, offering a smile, ‘if you’re going to shoot me.’

  ‘Eh?’ the black guy said, looking at the gun. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ He flipped the safety. ‘Just tell me who you are and why you’re here.’

  Jack pointed to his face. ‘Byron’s men did this to me. I want revenge. It’s that simple. What’s your story?’

  He could see the black guy weighing him up, no doubt deciding if he was being bullshitted. Then he lowered his weapon. Put it by his side.

  Then he said, ‘We want revenge, too. Me and my brother. Byron’s men tried to torch our place and he … he killed our friends.’

  Jack didn’t want to involve anyone else, but had no choice now. What the guy was saying made sense. There was no reason to suspect he was lying. Could he trust him, though? It didn’t matter, he decided. Fate – good old fate – had thrown them together and he needed to go with it. He knew he had to be vigilant. Keep a close watch on his new allies. After all, they could be psycho killers who cut peoples’ faces off.

  ‘Sounds like we need to talk,’ Jack said. He pressed his fob to disengage the central locking. ‘Hop in, pal. Before you get washed away or attract unwanted attentio
n.’

  Waving towards the BMW, the black guy rounded the Astra’s bonnet and opened the passenger door. Jack moved the knife and bag, placing them on the floor, in-between his legs.

  ‘I’m soaked!’ the black guy said, plonking himself down, then slamming the door. ‘Get the heating on perrr-onto. I need to dry off before I catch my death!’

  Jack started the engine. Turned the blowers on. Warm air gushed from the vents.

  Another man ran towards them, his jacket pulled over his head. He climbed in the back.

  ‘This is my bro, Derek,’ the black guy in the front said hooking a thumb over his shoulder. ‘And my name’s Chris, just so you know.’

  Leaning forwards between the seats, Derek looked at Chris, then Jack.

  ‘Byron did that to his face,’ Chris said, warming his hands in front of the vents. ‘He wants revenge, same as us.’

  ‘It was actually his hoods that did me over,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t think the top man gets his hands dirty like that. Although I might be wrong. He's probably just as unhinged as his employees.’

  ‘Pardon me for being a little less trusting,’ Derek said to Chris, ‘but who’s to say your new friend here isn’t one of Byron’s men.’

  In a blur of speed, Jack snatched Chris’s gun, then turned and placed the barrel in the centre of Derek’s forehead. Eyes widening, Derek’s mouth dropped open. He put his hands up.

  ‘Whatcha doing, man!’ Chris blurted.

  Jack gave the gun back to him. ‘Now we know where we stand.’

  Derek said, ‘You ever do something like that again, I’ll kill you.’

  ‘He was just making a point,’ Chris said.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jack said, ‘but I haven’t got time to piss about. It was the easiest way to show you I’m on your side.’ He looked at Derek in the rear-view mirror. ‘Your buddy here told me what they did to your friends. It doesn’t surprise me that I’m not the only one with a score to settle. Byron must have a lot of enemies, so it was only a matter of time before this happened. My name’s Jack, by the way.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Derek replied. ‘But like I said, you ever do anything like that again, I’ll kill you.’