by G H Mockford
Paul smiled as we discovered a stile where we were going to climb over. He quickly ducked and swung through the middle of the wooden planks not hindered at all by his height and build. My lack of fitness and extra weight made it not such an easy task for me.
Paul was in a press up position on the other side, holding his weight up with his fists. He moved quickly, maintaining that position and hugging close to the wall as he moved forward from fist to fist. I crawled behind him. Things kept digging into my palms and knees, which, I realized, was probably why Paul was doing it the way he was. He stopped some way ahead of me and I caught up with him half a minute later.
‘If I’ve guessed correctly,’ he whispered, ‘we are just next to the garage block.’ He sat with his back to the wall, one knee bent like a man waiting for a knighthood, then he cupped his hands. ‘When I say go, put your foot here,’ he glanced at the stirrup he had created, ‘and I’ll boost you over. As soon as you’re on the other side, flatten yourself against the garage wall.’ I was expecting him to ask me if I understood, but he didn’t, he just mouthed go!
Paul propelled me over the wall with his strong, powerful muscles. It was like I was flying. I crashed into the garage and quickly turned around just as Paul joined me. I was next to a window. I risked a quick peek inside and what I saw made my blood run cold. Two people were strung up from the roof beams. I couldn’t tell if they were dead or alive.
Don’t look. Follow me, Paul mouthed. This was it now. We were definitely in the danger zone and there was no turning back.
Eighty-One
Connor sat on a chair in the corner of the bedroom and watched the girl. She'd started to move about ten minutes ago. She was tugging at her bindings and trying to use the pillow to pull the black sack off her head.
He reached over to the porcelain jug and pushed it off the dresser. It smashed on the wooden floorboards and the trapped girl screamed and moved so violently that Connor thought she would leap off the bed and rip free of her bindings.
Connor laughed, long and hard, stopped, and then said in a simple, chilling tone, ‘Your time has come.’
‘Please, don’t hurt me,’ whimpered the voice from inside the sack.
‘It’s too late for that, I’m afraid.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re as bad as Rollins, worse even, because you’re a woman.’ The girl on the bed said nothing in return and Connor got up from the chair. He kicked the broken jug fragments and sent them clattering across the floor. It got the reaction he wanted. The girl writhed on the bed again. Connor came to a stop beside her and whispered, ‘Are you afraid, my dear?’
‘Yes,’ she answered.
‘How much?’
‘My heart’s beating so fast I think it’s going to burst,’ she said. There were no tears, just the sound of resignation etched in every syllable she uttered. Connor could see she was telling the truth. Her breasts and school blouse moved with each rapid, powerful beat.
‘Good. I need your heart to be beating fast. You are a lucky one. You will be my first masterpiece. You will be the message to all the evil women out there. Art shouldn’t just be pretty, it should carry a meaning, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t understand. Please, I hate art. I dropped it as soon as I could.’
‘Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. No one understands me, but I will make the world see, and you’re going to help me to do it.’ Connor climbed onto the bed. The girl screamed as he straddled her. He reached down, pulled up his trouser leg, and his hand reached for his knife. His fingers wrapped around the handle, and a twisted smile rippled across his mouth.
Eighty-Two
I thought Paul would move with more urgency after what we had seen through the garage window, but somehow he kept his cool. We followed the back of the building and ducked below a window before heading for the back door. Paul straightened up and as he did so, his hand reached into the pocket of his biker jacket. When he pulled it back out he had a small gun which looked a little like the one that Sean Connery used when he played James Bond.
‘Where the hell did you get that?’ I whispered, partly angry and partly amazed he had it, and that he had the foresight to bring it.
‘From my bedroom,’ he answered.
‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it! Put it away!’ I said, my voice rising a little louder than I intended. Bringing the gun put what we were doing into a whole new ball game.
‘He uses a knife, right? There’s no way I’m going in unarmed.’ His hand took hold of the door handle and I was pleased to see that it wasn’t shaking. He pushed it down and to our mutual surprise, it opened. ‘Wait here, if you don’t h–’
A high pitched scream tore through the air.
Paul didn’t hang around any longer. He was through the door, his arms outstretched before him, holding the gun in a two-handed grip. His finger wasn't on the trigger, but along the guard - safe but ready to act in an instant.
There was no way I was going to wait outside, not just because I wanted to keep my eye on Paul, but because I was definitely safer with him than being left outside on my own.
We worked our way through the kitchen. I kept myself five metres behind him. Paul held his hand up in the universal sign for stop, and he quickly moved across the wide hallway and into the living room. He gave me a thumbs up and then pointed upward before disappearing from view.
By the time I had got to the hallway, he was halfway up the staircase, which I couldn’t see before. He had his feet spread wide, walking on the edges so they wouldn’t creak. He was almost at the top when a second, louder scream came from above. Paul must have known exactly where it came from, because he moved quickly, giving up on the quiet, stealthy approach. He vanished from sight. Then I heard him kick a door in.
I ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time so I could join him as quickly as possible.
‘Drop the knife. Now!’ I heard Paul command as I turned at the top of the stairs and joined him inside the bedroom door.
Connor was sitting on top of Charlie, who had the usual black sack over her head. He stared at her and ignored us. A knife was in his right hand, but luckily it was nowhere near Charlie.
‘Drop the knife and get away from my daughter. Now!’ Paul bellowed the last word. Connor’s only reaction was to slowly turn his head to face us. He looked at us both, no, looked through us as if he didn’t know who we were or if we were even there. ‘Put the gun down, Mr Blackmore. There’s nothing to worry about,’ Connor said.
‘Put the knife down. Get off my daughter, and I’ll consider it.’
‘You may as well turn around and go home, Mr Blackmore,’ Connor said, and laughed. He actually laughed!
‘All I want is my daughter. Give her to me.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that,’ Connor said, shaking his head, his face showing a genuinely sorry looking expression.
‘I will shoot you, Connor,’ I heard a small click and out of the corner of my eye, caught Paul’s thumb moving over the rear of the pistol. He had taken off what I presumed was the safety catch. Now his finger was on the trigger.
‘That will achieve nothing, Mr Blackmore. I can’t give her to you.’
‘Why not?’
Connor’s left hand moved closer to Charlie’s shrouded head.
‘Stop! Don’t move. What are you doing?’
‘Let him, Paul,’ I said, realizing what Connor wanted to show us.
Wolf-Man took the top of the black bag in his hand and pulled the sack away.
It was Bethany Andrews, the girl who had attacked Charlie and insulted Connor. She stared at me, her eyes terrified, but vague as if she was on something. I remembered how she had seemed drunk as I, unwittingly, saw Connor put her in the car hours before.
Paul didn’t react to the revelation.
‘Turn around and go,’ Connor said. ‘This one’s about to get what she deserves. She attacked Charlie. Hurt her. I’m only going to give her what she
deserves.’
‘I’m sorry Connor, but I just don’t see it that way. You’ve hurt other people and I can’t let you hurt anyone else,’ Paul said. He hadn’t relaxed his grip on the pistol. His aim was steady.
‘They deserved it too or brought it on themselves,’ Connor snapped.
I wanted to scream at him, shout at him, but I couldn’t. He was still on top of Bethany and had the knife far too close to her, in fact, he had moved it closer. He must have done it as he pulled off her hood and we were distracted.
‘Last chance to get off the girl,’ Paul said.
Connor slowly lifted his hands up. Moving his right hand out, he opened it and the knife slid from his grip. There was a dull thunk so I guessed it had landed on the floor point first.
Suddenly he rolled clear of the girl and sat on the edge of the bed as if nothing had happened and there wasn’t a gun pointed at him. ‘I’m disappointed that you’d think I’d hurt Charlie, Mr Blackmore. I love her!’
‘I’m never letting you near her again, you sick bastard. Walk over to the wall,’ Paul commanded, flicking his pistol in the direction he wanted Connor to walk. Wolf-Man did as he was ordered. ‘Spread your legs, then put your hands out and fall towards the wall.’
Connor obeyed. ‘I was just protecting her, Mr Blackmore, just as you are. I wouldn’t have hurt her, not like the others.’
‘Others?’ Paul said.
‘The women God sent me to punish.’
‘Just shut up now,’ Paul said, ‘I’m tired of your bullshit.’
What Connor said confused me. I began thinking about what he might have been trying to tell us as I stepped over to Bethany and began to untie her. ‘It’s going to be all right now,’ I told her. The knots were very thorough. It took me a while to free her.
‘You were too late to save Mr Rollins. He’s providing a nice snack for the fish in the reservoir right now,’ Connor said as I helped Bethany sit up. ‘It’s a shame that I had to ruin such an expensive car though. I was going to burn his body along with hers and everything else in the house. Sadly I let my own creativity run away with me. A mistake – I see that now.’
‘Take her downstairs,’ Paul said though I could see he was seething at the way Connor was still finding ways to torture Bethany.
She was unsteady on her feet and I had to help her out of the room and then down the stairs. I put her on the sofa in the living room and was about to go back upstairs when I heard Paul tell Connor to put his hands on the back of his head. A few moments later they came downstairs.
We'd managed to save Bethany, even if we hadn’t managed to save Richard, and it was then that I remembered the couple in the garage. Paul and Connor joined me in the large hallway and Paul ordered him to assume the same position he was in upstairs next to the kitchen door. He did, but despite the extra width of the wide hallway, Connor wasn’t leaning at the angle he was before. I was going to say something about it, but I was certain Paul had everything under control, so I told him I was going to the garage.
I reached out for the front door and pulled it open. I looked up to see Rees, Stokes and two uniformed officers stood outside. Rees’ hand was frozen in mid-air, clearly about to knock on the door. They were here, they had found the clue I had left them.
Then my relief crumbled as Rees shouted, ‘Jesus Christ, he’s got a gun!’
Eighty-Three
The two uniforms at the back moved quickly and with a bright yellow blur, the Tasers they carried were upholstered and pointing through the doorway.
Stokes stepped through, blocking the armed police officers’ aim and said, ‘Mr Freeman, step back from the door, please, and let us in. Put the gun down, sir, as an act of good faith.’
They obviously thought Paul was Connor. The situation looked bad, and I had to admit that if I was the police I might have made the wrong conclusion too. ‘You don’t understand, he’s not the one you want. He is,’ I said as I pointed to Connor and moved out of the way. Paul didn’t answer, or drop the gun.
‘Drop the gun, or I will order the two officers to use their Tasers on you,’ Stokes said. Rees, having recovered his composure, re-joined his colleagues and the four of them moved further into the house.
Much to my relief, Paul relented. He took his finger off the trigger, took the gun in his left hand and handed it to Stokes, handle first. The DC immediately handed it to one of the uniforms, who then rushed it out of the house.
‘Now stand against the wall, sir,’ the young detective ordered Paul.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Paul said in an irritated, disbelieving tone. ‘He’s murdered and attacked people and you’re cuffing me?’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll be cuffing you all,’ Rees said as he stepped up to Connor.
‘Do as you’re told, Paul. It’s over. We’ll be okay,’ I said. He did as I asked and held out his wrists. Stokes walked up to him and put the cuffs on. Then they moved away leaving Connor against the wall, for all intents and purposes immobilised.
‘Right, you next,’’ Rees rumbled as he took a set of cuffs off the remaining uniform and stepped up to Connor.
That’s when Wolf-Man sprang off the wall and launched a devastating attack. The head butt took not only Rees, but us all by surprise. The fat Welshman reeled back, colliding with me and the uniform. Stokes managed to jump out of the way but in doing so crashed into the console table behind him.
Connor didn’t waste his opportunity and was through the kitchen and out the back door.
Stokes regained his balance and dashed past me. I got to my feet. By the time I’d made it through the kitchen and to the back door, Stokes was scrambling over the dry stone wall that surrounded the garden. Connor was running up the lower slopes of the hill and towards Devil’s Brow.
By the time I'd climbed over the wall, Connor was almost out of sight, but I could see that Stokes was closing on him. I wanted to slow down as there was no way I was going to catch them up now. I was knackered already, and for all I knew it would all be over by the time I got there. But, something kept driving me forward.
I eventually staggered onto the flat rock at the top and I was forced to prop myself against a bolder as I watched what was unfolding. I was joined by a crowd of climbers, who had gathered and were watching Stokes and Connor slugged it out. Sometimes they came dangerously close to the edge of the crag. The wind whipped at their clothing and hair.
They moved away from the edge and circled a trig point, keeping it between them. Both of them were breathing hard, their chests heaving and their hair wet with sweat. I was the same, probably worse.
I knew I had to help Stokes and if I went over and joined him the pair of us could force Connor away from the concrete pillar and that in turn would break the deadlock. I moved towards them, slowly and unsteadily, but I moved. I wondered why the climbers weren’t doing anything, but then they probably didn’t have a clue what was going on.
I approached Connor from the right and he moved away from the trig point. He was trapped between me, Stokes, the climbers, and the edge. His flight for freedom had left him with nowhere left to go.
‘Connor, stop now,’ Stokes said between heaving breaths.
‘No, I’d rather go the way of the Doxie,’ Connor said as he continued to move towards the edge, his feet tentatively feeling the ground behind him. He snatched a quick look over his shoulder. Just a metre or so and he’d be at the edge.
‘I don’t understand,’ DC Stokes said. The reference made no sense to me either.
‘A woman took her own life up here rather than be taken alive. I’m willing to follow her example,’ Connor said as he moved back even further, balancing precariously on the edge.
Stokes stopped moving, no doubt scared that Connor would carry out his threat. In my exhausted state, I staggered forward a few more steps.
‘Stop or I’ll do it!’ Connor yelled at me and he shuffled back a tiny bit more. He wobbled on the edge as his left heel hung over it, loose pebbles and so
il toppling over the edge.
I heard panting from behind me and I looked back and saw Rees and one of the uniforms. ‘Stokes…move…back, that’s… an order,’ Rees said between breaths, ‘We’ve…got him…now.’
‘Connor, come away from there. We can help you,’ Stokes said, ignoring the order.
‘I have all the help I need. I have God. If I leap from here, He will send a host of angels to carry me away.’
‘No, Connor, He won’t,’ Stokes answered.
‘There’s only one way to find out!’
Before anyone could stop him, Connor spread his arms wide in a cruciform and toppled over the edge.
In a final burst of energy, Stokes rushed forward and reached out to grab Connor before he fell.
I looked away.
Rees shouted out his partner’s first name.‘Uriel!’
When I looked back, the young DC had Connor by the front of his hoodie, his face straining as he held the man’s weight in one hand. Making sure he had a firm footing, Stokes reached out and grasped Connor’s arm so he could get a more secure hold.
Allowing the policeman to pull him back to safety, Connor said, ‘Uriel? Your name is Uriel?’
‘Yes,’ Stokes replied, trying to pull the Wolf-Man further from the edge.
‘You’re an angel?’
‘No. I just have an angel’s name. Come with me and I’ll let you know why I was given it,’ Uriel Stokes replied as he grabbed Connor’s other arm.
‘You saved me, Archangel of wisdom and salvation,’ Connor said and he grabbed Stokes in an embrace.
I let out the breath I'd been holding. Stokes was safe, and at last it was all over. His unusual name had somehow connected with Connor’s sick mind.
I walked over to the trig point so I could collapse, when I heard Connor say, ‘But, unfortunately, I can’t let you take me alive.’ He let out a terrible roar and using his incredible upper body strength, he picked Stokes up, despite his height, and sent them both pitching backwards and out over the edge.
