Inferno

by Jay Gill

  Moon caused this, thought Fischer. Everything is falling apart because Moon screwed up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ve just received some bad news. I don’t know what came over me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty-pound note, which he held out. “Buy yourselves a drink. I’m sorry.”

  The young woman looked at Fischer with contempt. “I don’t know what your problem is, but we don’t want your money. Just leave us alone.” She helped her boyfriend to his feet.

  Fischer watched the couple walk away. What was happening to him? He needed to take back control. If he didn’t, he’d end up back behind bars quicker than you could say Life without parole.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Rayner sat in a high-backed chair beside Jenny’s bed. His hand rested on hers and he hardly took his eyes off her. He wasn’t talkative. Occasionally, he’d repeat things he’d already said. Monica and I sat on two plastic chairs on the other side of the bed.

  “Jen opened her eyes this morning.” A smile flickered across Rayner’s face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. “They weren’t open long. Her eyes turned and looked at me. She saw me. It was before you came. It’s a sign. A sign she’s getting better.” His head nodded lightly. He didn’t look at us as he spoke. Instead, he studied Jenny’s face.

  “It is a sign,” agreed Monica.

  “Mum and Alice and Faith would like to visit,” I said.

  “I think it’s too soon for Alice and Faith,” said Rayner. “I’d rather they didn’t see Jen like this. She wouldn’t want it. She’ll be herself again soon. Then they can visit.”

  “Whatever you think is best,” I said.

  Rayner nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. “She’ll be herself again very soon.”

  Over Rayner’s shoulder, in the corridor, Cotton appeared. Monica knew what was about to happen. We’d talked about it and agreed Rayner needed to be kept informed of developments. We decided that if the roles were reversed, it’s what any of us would want.

  Monica got up and walked around the bed. She put a hand on Rayner’s shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. She spoke softly to him. “I’m going to step outside for a minute. I’ll be back.” As Monica left the room, she was replaced by Cotton.

  Cotton stood at the end of the bed. Rayner glanced up at her, then looked at me, then back at Cotton. “What is this? What’s going on?”

  “We need to talk,” I said. “It’s about the fire.”

  “What about it?” said Rayner. He was pale and unshaven, and his eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them.

  Cotton was uneasy talking about the developments in front of Jenny. “I wonder whether we should go to your room. It’ll be more…”

  “I’m not leaving Jen,” insisted Rayner. He shook his head. “She needs me.”

  “It’s important,” I said.

  Rayner ignored me. I regretted my poor choice of words. To Rayner nothing mattered more than being at Jen’s side.

  “Come on, mate,” I said. “Take a break. We need to talk. You need to hear this. You know I wouldn’t ask otherwise. You told me yourself, Jenny can hear what you’re saying. Let’s not have this conversation here. How about we ask Monica to sit with her?”

  Reluctantly, Rayner got to his feet. He leaned over Jen and kissed her. “I won’t be long, I promise. Monica’s going to sit with you. I’ll only be a minute, sweetheart.”

  Monica was waiting silently by the door as we came out. She watched as Cotton and I followed Rayner down the hall to his room before she returned to sit with Jenny.

  The few belongings we’d brought in for Rayner sat in a packed bag on a chair beside the bed. “They’re discharging me. Sometime today.”

  “That’s great news,” said Cotton.

  “I’m not leaving, though. I’m staying right here,” added Rayner. He searched our faces for understanding.

  “Of course,” I said.

  Rayner looked at the pair of us expectantly to remind us we were keeping him from something more important. I took that as my cue.

  I decided to come right out with it. “The fire is being treated as arson. Somebody deliberately set fire to the house,” I said. “Whether they knew anyone was in the house, we don’t know.”

  Rayner sat himself down on the edge of the bed. It was as though he’d received the final knockout blow and his legs had turned to rubber and given way. “Who?”

  “A witness has put Edward Fischer and Faye Moon at the house just before the fire started. Moon is a known associate of Fischer’s.”

  Rayner stared at the floor.

  Cotton continued. “Fischer was being transported to a hospital close to the prison when he absconded. Unfortunately, he’s still at large.”

  “I know this isn’t news you want to hear,” I said. “We just thought you should hear it.”

  Rayner looked like a man totally defeated. His head was down, and his shoulders slumped forward. Without saying a word, he got up off the bed and left the room.

  Keeping our distance, Cotton and I followed him. We remained in the corridor, watching. He reached Jenny’s room and heaved open the door like it weighed a ton. Monica appeared at the door beside him. She glanced down the corridor at us before putting an arm around Rayner’s waist and walking him back to sit beside his beloved Jenny. Seeing Jenny and Rayner like this was breaking my heart. I was ready to make someone pay.

  “Let’s find this bastard,” I said to Cotton. “Whatever it takes.”

  She nodded. “Next on my list is Faye Moon’s sister. Her husband called. It seems he’s not a fan of Moon, and he’s keen to talk.”

  “Give me one minute. I’ll let Monica know I’m leaving and give her the keys to our car.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Aunt Patti had gone out early. Wednesday mornings were spent planning fundraising events for Macmillan, a cancer charity. For almost forty years, since her own cancer scare when she was in her late thirties, Aunt Patti had organised events and rallied support. Moon had once asked her how much money she thought she alone had raised. Aunt Patti’s blunt reply: Not enough!

  Aunt Patti’s house backed onto greenbelt grassland, meadow that developers were fighting to get their hands on, and government, weakened by the pressure for more affordable housing, would eventually sell to the highest bidder.

  Moon gripped a knitted shawl slung over her shoulders. All kinds of birdsong filled the air. She listened as a bird she could not identify, perched on what she thought was a silver birch, repeatedly sang and paused, seemingly waiting for a reply that never came.

  Mist hung over the fields, and the crisp morning air made Moon feel alive. She rested on a low wall and took out her cigarettes. The same low wall on which, as a child, she had lined up her dolls for imaginary Miss World competitions. Walking them up and down, giving them names and nationalities and announcing stories of why they were special and deserved to be crowned this year’s winner. She guessed the dolls were somewhere in Aunt Patti’s house, perhaps in a dusty box labelled Memories.

  Moon lit a cigarette. The tip glowed red like a tiny warning beacon.

  Fischer would come after her. Her mistake had been to take all the money. She’d panicked and not thought things through. Had she left some money, even a few thousand pounds, he could have found a way out of the country using the money for bribes. Leaving him with nothing was stupid. What she didn’t know for sure was whether he’d forgive her. She guessed not. Even if it had been for the right reason, she’d still betrayed the only man who had ever treated her well.

  She’d met Kelly Lyle at a bar. They’d both been waiting too long to get served, and when Lyle had finally got the barman’s attention, she’d offered to order Moon’s drink too. They had then spent the rest of the evening drinking together and discussing their misfortunes. Moon had found Lyle easy to talk to and soon told her about Fischer’s wrongful arrest and trial and life sentence. Over the next few weeks, they had met up several times, drank
lots, talked more. They’d had fun imagining a plan to get Fischer out of prison. That was, until out of the blue, Lyle had suggested the plan was perfectly feasible and she’d be happy to help; after all Fischer was a victim of a miscarriage of justice.

  Moon had been unaware who Kelly Lyle was until it was too late. She’d had no idea she was a serial killer with a fortune and seemingly limitless reach, capable of making pretty much anything happen through coercion, extortion and blackmail. It was only when Fischer was out of prison that Lyle had contacted Moon again and explained they weren’t friends, that she wanted Fischer dead and why. If Moon had told Fischer anything about her or jeopardised her plan in any way, Lyle said, she would kill her sister’s young boys, Philip and Max, while their mother watched, then she’d kill Sandra and finally Moon too.

  Having now heard Fischer’s side of the story on the beach, she knew everything about Lyle was true and that he really had been there at the murder of Lyle’s lover. It was at that moment Moon had decided she had to get as far away from Fischer as possible. Distance herself and not be caught up in whatever Lyle had planned for him. She had done as Lyle asked and taken the money.

  Moon had no doubt that if Fischer was coming after her and the money, he’d figure out she would be here. He’d know she always went to her sister when she felt threatened or was in trouble. She knew she was predictable that way. If he went to see Sandra, she knew Sandra would tell him what he needed to know; Sandra was weak. Always was, always would be. She guessed she had forty-eight hours at most before Fischer showed up. It wouldn’t be wise to allow Aunt Patti to wind up in the middle of her mess.

  Aunt Patti had been something of a surrogate mother while Moon was growing up. With Mother being so unreliable, drinking and hitching up with any man that looked her way, she hadn’t been around much. So, with no children of her own, Aunt Patti had stepped in.

  Aunt Patti had always wanted more for Moon and Sandra, and she had taken them under her wing. Her rules and insistence on a good education had worked for Sandra. Moon, on the other hand, had pushed back. Resisted. Felt the need to go her own way. She was more like her mother in that regard.

  In the early days, finding her own path in life and not following the plan expected of her had led to some great times. After leaving home, Moon had spent a few years travelling. She’d been to more countries than her mother had been to towns in Britain. Moon had pushed the boundaries, lived different lifestyles, met people from many different cultures and backgrounds. Unfortunately, her enthusiasm for exploring drugs and hallucinogens in search of spiritual enlightenment had taken its toll and eventually, having spiralled down into a place she feared she might not return from, she had returned home to save herself.

  Returning home had not been the salvation she’d hoped for, however. The leeches and parasites could sense her vulnerability, and she was quickly partying and mixing with a crowd like the one she thought she’d left behind.

  China Frizzell, who liked to dress from head to toe in white – white shoes, white silk suit and white panama hat – had been one of those exploiting her. He’d fed her cocaine habit for payment in kind. She’d whored herself for an endless supply of whatever chemical high she could get.

  She had been introduced to Fischer at one of Frizzell’s invitation-only private parties, a place for Frizzell’s friends to talk business and indulge in drugs, drink and sex. All accompanied by a DJ with a thumping soundtrack.

  Fischer was a guest of Frizzell’s and looked like he’d rather be elsewhere. Moon had made a beeline for him, and they had taken their drinks poolside where the music was less deafening.

  Fischer had told her how he and Frizzell went way back. He was open with her about how, through no fault of his own, he was backed into a corner. He didn’t go into detail, but she’d encouraged him to keep talking about himself. She had enjoyed listening to him talk. He had a nice voice and attractive eyes. He didn’t try it on, either; she’d liked that.

  Fischer and Moon had immediately hit it off. Unlike the muscle she’d met in the past, Fischer wasn’t full of himself. He was smart, funny, sensitive and confident. He showed a genuine interest in her thoughts and her travels; she liked that he asked questions about her and her opinions. That night, she had gone back to Fischer’s place. She’d stayed the night and immediately realised she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  In the days and weeks that followed, they would drink, smoke and talk into the early hours. One evening during one of their marathon state-of-the-world debates, he’d broached the subject of her drug use. He told her he found her wild side sexy but assured her she’d have more fun and could still be wild if she got off the drugs. For the first time, with him supporting her, she really thought she might get clean. And it had worked, because for the first time she was ready. She had stayed clean right up until the day Fischer was arrested.

  Moon flicked her cigarette butt out onto the neatly mowed lawn and went back in the house. She needed to stay one step ahead of Fischer, and that meant organising her passage out of the UK. It was time to make some calls. She’d made up her mind that she’d like to go back to Poland. She’d spent a month there during her travels and found the cities of Kraków and Gdańsk among the most picturesque places she had visited in Europe. The people were friendly and hospitable; it also helped that her money would go a long way over there.

  Moon decided to get dressed and go out before Aunt Patti got home. She didn’t need the old lady overhearing her travel plans or talk of forging passports.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  It was past midnight. The signage of the petrol station shone out in the night, a beacon to weary travellers. Life on an otherwise dead stretch of road.

  Governor Lloyd Trent’s low-fuel light blinked red, demanding his attention. It had been a long day, and he was more than ready to get home and pour himself a large Cognac before bed.

  Since Fischer’s escape from Larkstone Prison, Trent had had to deal with more bureaucratic bullshit than usual. He’d been fielding phone calls for days, and it was wearing thin. On top of that, trouble from inmates had escalated exponentially; the men were clearly emboldened by the sheer audacity of Fischer’s enterprise. An air of restlessness hung over the prison like a putrid fog. Old scores were being settled and petty squabbles rapidly escalated into violent clashes. Staff and inmates alike were on edge, ready for trouble to ignite without notice.

  Governor Trent had had to come down hard on the ringleaders. Blood had been spilled and bones broken, a reminder, if any were needed, that he was God. He, Governor Trent, giveth and taketh away. Under his roof he was the Almighty.

  Trent sighed heavily, checked his mirrors, flicked the silver Volvo XC90’s indicator and turned off the dual carriageway onto the petrol station forecourt.

  As he got out of the car and walked around to the petrol pump, he waved to Parviz. Trent noted he was sat in his usual position behind the cash register, mobile phone in hand. Parv, as he liked to be called, waved and smiled eagerly. Trent filled up the car then walked over to pay. He paid no attention to the car pulling in at the pump in front of his Volvo.

  Trent spent a few minutes chatting with Parv, listening to how Parv’s daughter was getting ready to start her degree course. Trent made all the right noises, but tonight he was keen to get away. He wished he’d kept going and stopped at the next petrol station where they changed staff regularly and he knew no one on first-name terms. He made a mental note to do that next time. He really didn’t give a rat’s arse about Parv’s daughter and her plans after she graduated. What the fuck was it to him what she did? Just because he’d been polite once or twice, he was now subjected to this man’s life story every time he wanted to fill his car up. No. He would definitely continue on to the other petrol station next time.

  As he walked back to the car, Trent squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers to relieve the tension. He tilted his head from side to side and felt his neck click.

  As he reached his
Volvo, a noise behind him made him turn. It took a second for his brain to comprehend who stood in front of him, but then he blurted “Fischer?”

  “Hello, governor. What a happy coincidence. You look almost as surprised to see me as I am to see you. I was on my way to visit my friend Moon when I spotted your car. What a stroke of luck.”

  Keeping his eyes on Fischer, Trent reached behind his back and felt around for the car’s door handle. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it. Harming me will do you no favours. Just hand yourself in. You can’t run forever. If you hand yourself in, I’ll do all I can for you. I give you my word.”

  “If I go back, I’ll never see the outside again. You know that.”

  “I’m concerned for you. Trying to stay on the run could end very badly for you.”

  “Bullshit. You’re not concerned for me. You think I’m here to kill you.”

  Trent straightened his neck. “Why would I think that?” He gently lifted the handle on the car door and felt the latch click open.

  “I’ve thought many times about killing you. You must admit, you’re a sadistic son of a bitch. I’d be doing every inmate a favour.” Fischer got up in Trent’s face, toe to toe. He put an arm over Trent’s shoulder and rested his hand onto the roof of the Volvo.

  Trent could smell stale cigarette smoke on Fischer’s clothes and alcohol on his hot breath. Behind them, a car shot past on the otherwise empty road.

  “I want you to understand, Trent, you’re not beyond reach. The punishment and unnecessary brutality you dish out in that concrete and steel fiefdom of yours can easily come tumbling down. Do you understand?”

  “For everyone’s sake, I maintain discipline. If I didn’t, there would be—”

  “Let’s not play games,” interrupted Fischer. “You’re a sadist who enjoys inflicting punishment. I’ve watched you dole it out with impunity. I bet inside that head of yours you tell yourself we deserve it. And maybe some of it we do. But you love dishing it out, don’t you? I see it in your greedy little eyes. You get off on it. You’re a pitiless bastard, Trent. Don’t kid yourself. You’re no different to half the men banged up in that hellhole you call a prison. I’ve been in a lot of prisons and there are proper ways of doing things. There’s the right way, and then there’s your way.” Fischer dusted Trent’s shoulder and straightened his tie. “The truth is, I saw your car and I didn’t know what I wanted. But now, seeing how pathetic you look on the outside, I simply want to suggest you rethink your methods. I’m not here to harm you. Even though, if I wanted to, I could easily end you right here. No, if I kill you, I might make a martyr of you.” Fischer snapped his fingers and Trent jumped. “Dead! Just like that.”