The Ultimate Selection: Be Careful Who You Talk To

by S. J. Wardell

‘Putting you through.’

  Greg waited.

  ‘Hi, this is the voicemail of Terry Bane. Please leave a message, or if it’s urgent you can contact me on my mobile – 07777 555 444. Thanks for calling.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Greg smiled.

  ***

  McFarland could feel his legs trembling as the press filled the room. Knowing that Terry was at home watching did not make it any easier.

  ‘Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. I’m Chief Inspector Jasper Ward and, to my left, is Detective Inspector James McFarland of New Scotland Yard. I will invite questions after I have read out a brief statement, please do not interrupt me and please be patient, we will try to answer all your questions.’ The tall man paused taking a sip of water from the glass in front of him. ‘The reason we have called you all here today is to inform you and the public that during the last two months, two members of the public have been murdered. We, at New Scotland Yard, believe these murders are linked and therefore would believe that it is in the public interest to share the information that we have already attained though, at this moment, this is minimal. The first murder was at fifty-four Tinckerton Street, Swiss Cottage, about eight weeks ago. A white male named Brian James was brutally murdered by his partner, Sharon Buckle. The other was in Borehamwood in a disused car park last night. A South African man named Hector Hylie was brutally murdered by his brother-in-law, Martin Pringle. Please can we urge you not to contact the families of the deceased, or the families of the two other people involved. Simply as a mark of respect, let them mourn their loss privately.’ He paused again for a slurp of water, the coolness rehydrated his throat. ‘Both of the people that we are questioning claim that another person was involved; they simply describe this person as a man wearing a mask and a black, shiny all-in-one suit. He talks using a well-spoken accent and he forced them to commit these awful acts. Now, if you have a question, raise your hand and I promise I will get to you all. One question each though,’ Jasper pointed to a man at the back of the room. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bill Davis, the Sun. Can you tell us how you know these murders are linked?’

  ‘This is one for you, James,’ Jasper said.

  ‘At the moment, both of the people involved have mentioned the man in the shiny suit. Therefore we have to consider that both these crimes are linked.’

  ‘Gill Morgan, The Times. Have any of these people been formally charged, and if so can you tell us what they have been charged with?’

  ‘Me again,’ McFarland said, ‘I can confirm that we have formally charged both people we have in custody with murder, whilst we are still conducting our enquiries.’

  ‘Reginald Morris, the Mirror. Do you think that this third person will strike again?’

  ‘Yes, is the short answer, we are looking for a third person who we believe to be linked with this case, it is our belief that this person is doing this for reasons we are yet to understand. We believe that this man in the shiny suit is very skilful and extremely dangerous. We would urge the general public not to approach this man, but to contact us if they have any information.’

  ***

  ‘You’re playing into his hands, you fucking idiots!’ Terry shouted at his television, almost choking on his coffee.

  ***

  ‘Fulton Myers, the Daily Telegraph. What exactly can you tell us about the person you seek?’ he enquired calmly.

  ‘Not a lot really, we don’t know too much about him at the moment. We know that the person is a man of athletic build, very confident and he chooses his victims well. Let’s be clear about one thing, these two murders have not been random, a lot of planning has gone in to them. I’m not able to go into too much detail, with the case being ongoing, but we do know that this person is extremely dangerous. Any more questions?’ McFarland felt awkward.

  ‘Gareth Charles, the Standard. Do you have any idea why he chose these two victims, and have you any idea who is going to be next?’

  ‘We don’t know, is the truthful answer to your question Gareth. We do know that he will continue until he is stopped. These murders were extremely violent and orchestrated without any hesitation. I must stress that this is one very dangerous individual we are looking for.’

  ‘May I ask another question?’ Fulton Myers asked, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

  ‘Of course,’ McFarland replied.

  ‘You say that he orchestrated these murders. From that are you saying that he did not actually carry out these killings?’

  ‘That’s correct, from the information we have managed to collate, he was there as an instigator.’

  ‘So, in the case of the second murder,’ Fulton enquired, ‘did this person actually abduct the two men?’

  ‘Yes, he did abduct both men and held them against their will. As I said, this is a complicated case,’ McFarland looked at his boss, seeking support.

  ‘I’m sorry that’s all we have time for. Please be very selective in what you write and show respect and some decorum. Think of the victims’ families before you submit your stories to press. I must make you aware that this investigation is live and ongoing. Thank you all for your time and your questions,’ Jasper announced as he and McFarland left the room quickly.

  ‘I felt like a right prat in there,’ McFarland told his boss.

  ‘Yes, I know what you mean. They were ready to rip us to shreds weren’t they? We gave them enough I think.’

  ‘I’m not looking forward to reading tomorrow’s papers.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it and don’t dwell. What’s done is done. We’ve followed the letter and kept to procedure. Let’s hope they consider what they’re writing about before they put it in their newspapers tomorrow,’ Jasper knew that the tabloid press would crucify him and The Met, along with all those involved in the case. ‘Keep me regularly updated, James.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Catch this bastard for me.’

  ‘We will, sir, you can count on it.’

  ‘I know I can, that’s why I’ve got two of the best. Up your efforts, bend the rules, if you have to, crack a few heads. Just get a result,’ he smiled.

  ‘Thank you, sir. Terry needs…’ McFarland felt slightly embarrassed.

  ‘Whatever it takes James, give Terry whatever he wants. The clock is ticking.’

  The men shook hands and parted.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Greg picked up Hector’s mobile phone and switched it on. He waited a few moments while the device powered up. He dialled Terry Bane’s mobile number and waited for him to answer.

  ‘Terry Bane,’ the voice on the other end answered.

  ‘Good afternoon, Terry,’ Greg said, adopting his alter ego’s well-spoken tone.

  ‘Yeah, good afternoon – who’s this?’

  ‘I’m the one you are looking for.’

  ‘And why would I be looking for you?’

  ‘Because I’m making this call on Hector’s phone.’

  Terry’s eyes blinked wide, ‘So are you going to hand yourself in? Is that it?’

  ‘That would take the fun out of the hunt, out of the game, Terry. It’s all part of the game.’

  ‘What do I call you? You know my name.’

  ‘Do I need a name? Let me think…’ Greg smirked.

  ‘Why are you contacting me, shouldn’t you be talking to the police?’ Terry interrupted.

  ‘Terry, I think you already know that I’m well informed – enough to know that you are working with the police. Though I must say, you are an excellent reporter. I enjoyed your coverage of the Swiss Cottage story.’

  ‘OK,’ Terry seemed confused.

  ‘I understand that this must be a bit of a shock. Well, after all I have been involved in a couple of grizzly crimes. That said, I have not killed. The killing, the blood of those whom have perished is on the hands of those in your custody. Murder, well that is the ultimate crime. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Only if you get away with it. What do you want me to c
all you?’

  ‘You can call me “The Ultimate”. How are Sharon and Martin? I hope that you are looking after them both.’

  ‘Let’s just say that they’ve both had better days. Why them?’

  ‘Why not them. Brian and Hector selected themselves – I did not select them,’ Greg laughed, ‘as will others. I’m cleansing the streets of London, a job that our finest have failed in.’

  ‘You will be caught, you know that?’

  ‘Not if I continue to play the game, using my rules. You won’t catch me, Terry,’ Greg laughed.

  ‘So, why have you contacted me?’

  ‘Terry, we are both educated men. I think that, thus far, you know how well I like to plan. I am a slave to detail. I will never leave any trace of my true identity, so I will continue to lead you into a cul-de-sac every time.’

  ‘How long do you think you can carry on with this… with your reign?’

  ‘My reign?’ Greg paused, wanting to lead the conversation elsewhere. ‘I would wager good money that the press conference that took place earlier was not something that you wanted? How can these people expect to catch the likes of me, when it is me who is leading the way? Amateurs – don’t you agree Terry?’ Greg snapped.

  ‘I told them it was a mistake – but it made you want to contact me, break the ice.’

  ‘Contacting you was something I had planned before the press conference. I watched you at the car park. I saw you with James McFarland – I am everywhere, Terry. I got your number from your voicemail. Just in case you were wondering. Information is easy to attain. If people leave it so readily available,’ Greg giggled, ‘I’ll always be too far ahead of the game Terry.’

  ‘This is a game to you. Who’s next?’

  ‘Do you think that the great Hercule Poirot would ask me that question Terry?’

  ‘I’m not him,’ Terry gritted his teeth. ‘So when do you plan to strike again?’

  ‘I’m not the detective, you are.’ Greg paused. ‘Pass a message on to James McFarland – what you sow, you shall reap. Thanks for the chat,’ with that Greg ended the conversation.

  ‘Don’t go…’ Terry cried, but all in vain. Terry quickly dialled McFarland.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sitting quietly, pondering his conversation with The Ultimate, Terry waited for McFarland to arrive.

  ‘He contacted me,’ Terry announced, the second McFarland was through the door.

  ‘Who contacted you?’

  ‘The monster that we’re looking for. He called himself “The Ultimate”… he knows far too much, he…’

  ‘Slow down, mate.’

  ‘We need to get the number he used checked out. And please don’t tell me to slow down. This fucker isn’t going to stop – it’s all a game, his game!’ Terry grabbed McFarland’s arm. ‘He watched us at the second scene and he left a message for you. He told me to tell you what you reap, you shall sow. I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Did he say why he contacted you?’ McFarland decided to ignore the message.

  ‘I think it was just so that we know that he’s in control. Not to warn us off. But, I don’t understand what he was trying to say to you.’

  ‘That’s not the issue here, Terry. He contacted you.’

  ‘I’m worried about this one. He’s too confident, far too… Fuck knows!’

  ‘We’ve gotta go and see the pathologist, he has something to tell us.’

  ‘I want us to go and see this Greg O’Hara first. I wanna talk to him.’

  ***

  Greg jumped off the settee and turned on his laptop. Whilst he waited for it to boot up, he made himself another cup of tea. Once he returned to his laptop, he used Google to find the phone number for the DVLA so that he could try to find out where Val lived. He then picked up the telephone and dialled the number.

  ‘Hello, DVLA registrations, Swansea, Heather speaking, how may I help?’

  ‘Hello Heather. I’m in a bit of a jam. I’m after a number plate for my mum’s 50th birthday. I’ve not been able to track this particular plate, though I do know that it is unavailable at the moment. I thought that if I could contact the owner, I could try to persuade them to sell it to me,’ he said, firmly crossing his fingers.

  ‘Well, sir, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to offer that kind of information.’

  ‘What harm could it do? Listen, Heather, you are my last hope,’ he pleaded. ‘If I wasn’t in such a jam, honestly, I would not have needed to call you… please, please, please.’

  ‘This would cost me my job.’

  ‘Well, I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. I promise.’

  ‘OK, but don’t tell the owner where you got their details from!’

  ‘Listen, you have my word,’ he crossed his fingers.

  ‘What’s the number?’

  ‘VAL 111H.’

  ‘OK, one second… that registration belongs to Mrs Valerie Hope, telephone number 0207 555 5555.’

  ‘Do you have an address?’

  ‘You’ll get me hung for this: 1895, Bishops Avenue, Golders Green.’

  ‘Yeah, I know where that is,’ Greg rudely interrupted. ‘May all the angels smile on you, and God bless and watch over you. You have secured your place in heaven.’ Before Heather could reply he hung up the phone.

  ‘Too easy,’ Greg said to himself.

  Greg had no intention of approaching Valerie, he was doing his research. Research, was something that he did remarkably well.

  Greg decided that he was going to have to get to know Brent and he wanted to know more about that heated exchange in the restaurant. Greg still had some holiday owing, so decided that he would book about a week off in order for him to carry out a bit of surveillance work. A loud bang on his front door interrupted his thinking.

  ‘Hang on,’ Greg shouted. Greg opened the door, holding his breath, preparing himself for the worst.

  ‘Mr Gregory O’Hara?’

  ‘That’s me,’ Greg replied through the gap between the door and the door frame. ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘James McFarland and Terry Bane from New Scotland Yard. Can we come in, sir? We have some questions.’

  ‘Yeah come in – what’s going on?’ Greg needed to remain as his own character, leaving his alter ego hidden, allowing his double-bluff to commence. The two men entered Greg’s flat and were ushered into the living room.

  ‘Do you know Martin Pringle?’

  ‘Yeah, I know Martin.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw Martin?’ Terry enquired.

  ‘We went out for a drink and he crashed here – a couple of weeks ago I think… maybe.’

  ‘We’re going to need you to be more precise Mr O’Hara,’ Terry smiled.

  ‘How precise? We went out on the piss; got a taxi back here. Oh, we picked up a curry on the way. We got back here, ate the curry, sank a few beers and watched a porno. Then we crashed.’

  ‘In the same bed?’ McFarland smirked.

  ‘No, dickhead. Martin slept in here and I slept in my bed,’ Greg snapped. ‘Old Bill or not, watch your mouth please mate,’ Greg smiled.

  ‘What time did Mr Pringle leave… the following morning?’ Terry enquired.

  ‘I’ve got no idea. When I got up, he’d left.’

  ‘What, without as much as a goodbye?’ McFarland asked, wanting to niggle at Greg. It was his way.

  ‘If he did say his goodbyes, I was asleep so I missed them.’

  ‘Have you heard from or seen him since your night out?’ Terry continued.

  ‘No, not a word.’

  ‘Is that normal?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re mates – we’re not married,’ Greg replied, looking at McFarland. Terry looked around the room, everything seemed immaculately tidy, pristine.

  ‘Is Martin in some kind of trouble? When we were out on the piss, he told me about his brother-in-law going missing, or not going home.’

  ‘Do you know Mr Pringle’s brother-in-law?’ McFarland enquired.

  ‘I
used to work with both of them, so yeah, I know them both. What’s this all about?’ Greg replied, choosing his words carefully.

  ‘Mr Pringle’s brother-in-law is dead and Mr Pringle is a witness. This all transpired after his night out with you Mr O’Hara.’ McFarland was unable to control his tongue.

  ‘So Martin topped Hector? Fuck me, I never thought he’d actually do it.’

  Greg was lapping this up. Feeding these two idiots fool-food was more fun than Greg thought it would be.

  ‘Mr Pringle is a witness at this moment… I didn’t say anything about him killing Mr Hylie…’

  ‘What do you mean by “actually do it”?’ Terry asked, sitting forward.

  ‘Listen, it’s not for me to say, but Hector wasn’t the most popular guy you’d ever meet. Not very nice if you catch my drift?’ Greg was back in game play mode. ‘He was a bully and he and Martin never got on. After all, Martin never liked the idea of his sister marrying Hector. Martin would always threaten to kick Hector’s head in, but he never did, only because his sister protected Hector. Everyone knows about the bad feeling between them and, let’s be honest, if you’re looking for people that had a gripe with Hector, you’ll have a fucking long list. Talk to HR at the council where he worked.’

  ‘That’s a nice television you have Mr O’Hara,’ McFarland commented.

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  ‘Do you watch the news on it?’

  ‘No, I watch the news on the one in the bedroom,’ Greg laughed. ‘What sort of question is that?’

  ‘So, have you not seen the press conference surrounding this?’ McFarland continued.

  ‘No. When was it?’ Greg was playing shrewd.

  ‘It was earlier today.’

  ‘I’ve been at work – early finish.’

  ‘What time did you get home?’

  ‘About an hour ago,’ Greg lied easily.

  ‘So you never watch the news on this television?’ Greg did not answer the question, he simply smirked.

  ‘What do you watch?’

  ‘None of your business,’ Greg barked. ‘Where’s this going. My telly and what I watch on it ain’t that interesting is it? And it ain’t none of your business,’ Greg smiled. ‘Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?’