by Luke Delaney
7
Sean was huddled around an oversized computer screen with Sally, Donnelly and most of his team, both Featherstone and Addis standing behind them watching their every move as the scene unfolded before them: the Your View broadcast showing a hooded woman taped to the chair in the white room, a few strands of her raven black hair protruding and snaking onto her pristine white blouse as she struggled and mumbled while the man dressed in black, his face hidden by a ski-mask and his voice disguised by whatever it was he wore across his mouth, pointed and preached into the screen, a small, gleaming knife gripped in his gloved hand. He suddenly turned back to his victim, tore her blouse open and carved an X into her exposed skin, her muffled screams filling the room, seeping from the screen and into the office. Sally turned away as if she was going to vomit.
‘Turn this vile exhibition off,’ Addis demanded, his voice strange and faded, but Sean refused, unable to look away, the man on the screen once again preaching to his disciples before suddenly pulling the hood from the victim’s head. Sean’s heart missed a beat as the breath was knocked out of him.
‘Anna,’ he called out, but there was nothing he could do to save her. The man held up the knife for all to see before spinning and plunging the blade deep into Anna’s abdomen, twisting it and pulling it free, blood beginning to flow freely from the wound, Anna’s eyes wide in fear and pain, tears mixing with mucus that spat from her nose as she tried to breathe. But he wasn’t finished yet, moving behind her, taking hold of her hair and pulling her head back, her slim, beautiful neck exposed and vulnerable, the knife resting across her trachea – a small trickle of blood beginning to run down her throat. He looked directly from the screen and spoke. ‘Her crime is treachery. Her sentence is death.’
Sean wanted to scream at the screen, plead with the man not to hurt her any more, but it was useless: he couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even force his eyes shut so he didn’t have to watch as the killer slowly, deliberately drew the knife across Anna’s throat, the skin parting like a grotesque zip, exposing tendons and cartilage as the blood began to flow from the wound. Anna gurgled and gasped as the life seeped from her, her body convulsing then slumping, her head lolled backwards, her hands and legs twitching slightly before finally lying still.
The killer stepped from behind her and walked close to the camera, so close that his hooded face filled the screen, his hands ripping the voice distorter away and pulling the ski-mask free – revealing his face for the world to see. Sean blinked in confusion and disbelief at what he was seeing – at who he was seeing – his own face staring out at him from the screen, his own eyes, wild and bloodshot, looking back at him as he was finally able to open his mouth and scream.
His body jolted and bucked him from his nightmare-plagued sleep, sweat running from his chest down his ribs, his lungs filling with air as he tried to get his bearings in the dimly lit bedroom. Once he realized where he was he searched for Kate in a panic, praying he hadn’t woken her – praying his screams could only be heard in the sleep world. He breathed out slowly once he was sure she was still in a deep sleep and slipped from the bed, padding to the bathroom where he took a cold shower to wash away the sweat and the memory of the nightmare. He dressed quickly and headed downstairs to the kitchen, glad of the peace and quiet as he sipped a strong, piping-hot cup of coffee and tried to eat a slice of toast.
The squeak of a stair floorboard warned him Kate was heading towards him, sleepily walking into the kitchen wrapped in an old dressing gown of his he’d never worn, the tight curls of her hair comically tangled. She sat next to him, yawned, took the toast from his hand and took a bite with no intention of returning it.
‘You’re up early,’ she told him, her eyes still barely open.
‘Looks like I’m not the only one,’ he answered.
‘Busy day at work,’ she explained, her eyes threatening to flicker shut. ‘How’s the new case going?’
Sean gazed into his coffee. ‘It’s another bitch. Another Chinese puzzle – thousands of pieces to somehow try and fit together and not a lot of clues as to how to do it.’
‘Just the sort you like then,’ she teased.
‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘I can’t get enough of them.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she reassured him casually. ‘You’ll get your man, Detective Inspector. You always do.’
‘Maybe,’ he answered without conviction, ‘but this one’s clever. Really smart. There’s an element of prediction about him that I can’t remember seeing before or even hearing of. Most react to their changing situations, even the planners, but this one sees it coming days, maybe even weeks, before it happens and already has his plans in place – keeping himself one step ahead. This one worries me. I can’t get a feel for him. His motive’s laid bare, his anger, his frustration, his want for some kind of vengeance … I should be able to get inside his head, but I can’t and I don’t know why.’
‘It’ll come,’ she promised him, more awake now – more concerned. ‘Why are you dressed so smart?’ she asked him, changing the subject.
Sean looked down at his best tie and suit. ‘Douglas Allen trial starts today at the Bailey,’ he told her.
‘The Toy Taker,’ she said with mock horror.
‘His name is Douglas Allen,’ he reprimanded her for using his tabloid title.
‘Trust me,’ she told him, ‘I remember his name and I hope he gets life.’
‘Maybe you’d just rather hand him over to the mob and watch them hang him from the nearest lamppost?’
‘He killed a child,’ she reminded him unnecessarily.
‘Not intentionally,’ he told her.
‘Then why is he on trial for murder if you think it was manslaughter?’
‘He’s been charged with both,’ Sean explained. ‘It’s just the way it’s done. If the jury find him not guilty of murder they can always drop down to manslaughter.’
‘But doesn’t there have to be intent to kill to prove murder?’ Kate asked, awake now.
‘Not necessarily,’ he explained. ‘If he meant to do the boy serious harm which resulted in his actual death, then it can be deemed to be murder, even without intent to kill.’
‘And do you think he meant to do him serious harm?’
‘Who knows?’ Sean answered. ‘Douglas Allen was a schizophrenic who wasn’t taking his drugs. I doubt he even knows himself what he intended to do.’ He looked at this watch. ‘I’d better get going. I need to pop into the Yard before court and pick up some case papers.’
‘Remember we’re going out tonight,’ she reminded him. ‘Court or no court. It’s been in the diary for weeks so don’t act like you don’t know about it.’ His heart sank as some vague memory warned him Kate had told him about it and that he’d agreed to go. His expression betrayed his forgetfulness to Kate who snatched his phone from the table and entered the screen code, quickly flicking through to the calendar before fixing him with a look of amazement. ‘Sean. You didn’t put it in your phone. I told you to put it in your phone so you wouldn’t forget.’
‘I’ll be there,’ he promised, getting to his feet, easing the phone from her grip and slipping it in his inside jacket pocket.
‘You’d better be,’ she warned him. ‘Il Forno. London Bridge at seven thirty. You know where it is – we’ve been there before.’
‘Yeah, I know it,’ he assured her, bending to kiss her softly on the cheek. ‘See you later.’
‘Seven thirty,’ she warned him again. ‘Do not be late.’
Anna saw Assistant Commissioner Addis as soon as she entered the restaurant of the Eccleston Square Hotel not far from Victoria Station. He sat with his back to her, sipping orange juice and reading a broadsheet newspaper, his civilian suit perfect camouflage amongst the other breakfast takers. She straightened her suit jacket and picked her way past the other tables until she reached Addis who looked up and smiled his reptilian smile, neatly folding his newspaper as he spoke.
‘Anna. So goo
d of you to agree to meet me so early in the morning. Please, have a seat.’ He gestured to the seat he wanted her to take with a wave of his hand, allowing her to settle before speaking again. ‘Will you take breakfast?’ he asked, too formally.
‘I’m fine,’ she told him. ‘Maybe just some coffee.’
‘Of course.’ He summoned the waiter with a flash of his eyes. ‘Coffee for my guest, please.’ The waiter gave a little bow and scurried away. ‘I thought it would make a change to meet away from Yard,’ he explained, still smiling. ‘In fact, I think it’s best that from now on we always meet away from police premises – away from prying eyes and enquiring minds.’
‘Are we expecting to have many more meetings?’ she asked, trying to hide her concern at the prospect.
‘Well,’ Addis told her, pausing as the waiter returned with a fresh pot of coffee that he laid in front of Anna before quickly drifting away. ‘That rather depends on the subject of our mutual interest, don’t you think?’
‘Meaning Sean? DI Corrigan?’
Addis’s eyes narrowed and hardened for second before softening. ‘Who else?’ he answered. ‘So long as he’s under my supervision, I would appreciate you keeping a watchful eye on him. Think of yourself as his … safety net.’
She tried to decide whether this was genuine concern for Sean, or just Addis wanting an early warning system to give himself a chance to jettison Sean before he could be tarnished.
‘You sure he needs a safety net?’ she asked. ‘He seems to be coping fine with this new investigation. In fact, I’d say he seems to be coping better now than I’ve ever seen him. Less hostile, more open and he seems to be having far fewer episodes of involuntarily placing himself in the mind of the offender, which makes him emotionally more stable.’
‘So you’re saying he’s investigating a little more conventionally?’ Addis asked.
‘Yes,’ she answered directly.
‘That’s not entirely what I was hoping to hear,’ Addis said to himself more than Anna. ‘He’s not much use in charge of Special Investigations if he’s stopped doing what we both know he can do.’
‘So you want him to be unstable?’ Anna asked. She was increasingly struggling not to be seen to be too obviously protecting Sean; her feelings towards him made just discussing him with Addis feel like a betrayal. But she’d already made her decision: she would tell Addis whatever she needed to tell him to protect Sean – even if it meant lying to him.
‘No. No.’ Addis was quick to dismiss the suggestion. ‘But the fact remains DI Corrigan works best when he’s walking close to the edge. As you know. It’s just the way it is for some people.’
‘Well,’ Anna told him, not entirely sure herself of how much she was telling the truth, ‘he certainly seems to have stepped away from the edge somewhat.’
‘Really,’ Addis mused. ‘But his insights – would you say they’ve entirely stopped?’
‘Apparently,’ she answered, ‘although he still remains very instinctive and intelligent. If you want my professional opinion I would say you couldn’t have a better qualified person in charge of Special Investigations.’ She swallowed drily and tried to keep her poker face while Addis looked at her hard.
‘Indeed,’ he at last appeared to agree. ‘And his tendency towards self-destruction – this desire to rush into potentially dangerous situations on his own. Have you been able to learn any more about that?’
‘I hold the same opinion as before: he’s not self-destructive, but he can be, at least in the past he could be, overwhelmed by a compulsion to come face-to-face with the offender.’
‘So he can learn from them?’ Addis asked. ‘A little one-on-one time, so to speak, before the lawyers sanitize everything. A final chance to prove to himself that he was right all along.’
Anna felt increasingly uncomfortable – Addis’s understanding of Sean meant it would be more and more difficult for her to protect him without Addis smelling a rat. She needed to get out of her arrangement with the Assistant Commissioner as fast as she could, but suspected it would be no easy task. Addis would not take kindly to being snubbed and there was a very real chance he would tell Sean all about the true reason why she’d been attached to two of his investigations. Could he – would he – ever forgive her? She wasn’t prepared to take the chance, not yet. Better to keep Addis close for now. Keep him where she could see him so she could best protect Sean.
‘Yes,’ she answered Addis’s question. ‘I believe it’s something like that.’
He watched her for a while once more before speaking. ‘Good. I think it’s important you remain in your current position, attached to the investigation where you can keep a close eye on DI Corrigan and report back to me any significant changes in his behaviour, specifically if he once again shows an ability to … to share the offender’s point of view.’
‘I understand,’ Anna assured him, her head hurting with the desire to be away from Addis.
‘Very good,’ Addis told her with his unpleasant smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree that our relationship has been mutually beneficial? You have after all been given unprecedented access to high-profile murder investigations and of course the suspects once arrested.’
‘Of course.’ Anna forced the words from her constricted throat.
‘Excellent,’ Addis replied, raising his glass of orange juice to her. ‘Then here’s to a long and productive relationship.’
She swallowed the bile in her mouth and faked a smile as she raised her cup of coffee to Addis. ‘To us.’
Geoff Jackson drove along the quiet rural roads following the Your View Killer’s instructions exactly, just as he’d been told to do early the same morning when the killer called him on the pay-as-you-go mobile number at precisely nine am. He’d barely given Jackson time to grab a pen and write down the instructions before he hung up. No matter now as he neared the location.
He’d had a heated debate with his editor over whether he should be allowed to drive off into the middle of nowhere to meet a killer at all. Once Jackson had won that battle he then had to try to persuade her to let him go alone. Apparently she knew a couple of guys – ex-SAS or something. They could shadow him all the way and be his security. Her security, more like, but there was no way he was going to let a couple of goons blow this for him. He went alone or nothing. In the end she agreed – how could she not? This was potentially far too big to risk missing out on.
Jackson followed the satnav directions all the way to a small car park on Ruislip Common in Hertfordshire, a few miles west of London, scanning his surroundings before allowing his car to roll to a halt, his eyes searching the trees and thick bushes for any signs of life, the doors still locked as a precaution until he decided it was no longer needed. If the Your View Killer was watching from the treeline he’d never spot him. Better to bite the bullet and get out the car – show himself to the killer he hoped to meet – relying on his instincts and animal cunning to keep himself alive.
As he opened the door the sounds and smells of the common washed over him for the first time – crisp air that tasted so much sweeter than London air, the sounds of the trees gently swaying in the light breeze audible instead of being drowned out by traffic. He breathed in deeply, the clean air making him feel a little dizzy and lightheaded. He decided he didn’t like the sensation and lit a cigarette before hauling himself out of the car, closing the door quietly and taking another good look around. This was the sort of place where the bodies of murder victims were found. Was that why the killer had brought him here? He shivered and pulled hard on his cigarette as he watched the dog walkers off in the distance, too far away to hear their whistles and calls. For a second he imagined his naked body lying in a shallow grave as a dog sniffed and scratched around him. Again he shivered and sucked on his cigarette. ‘Fuck,’ he spoke out loud to be heard; if only there’d been someone around to hear him.
The distant sound of a vehicle’s engine coming along the country road towards the car park made him tu
rn from the dog walkers and concentrate on the lane. In the distance he could just about see the occasional white flash as the vehicle passed gaps in the trees. He took one last drag and crushed the cigarette underfoot as the white flashes grew ever closer, moving fast along the road, the engine screeching under the strain. Classic counter-surveillance driving, he thought to himself – drive hard and fast. If anyone’s following you they’re going to show out pretty quickly moving at that kind of speed. This had to be his man. He’d expected him to be on the plot way before he arrived, watching him from the trees, but clearly he was cleverer than that. He’d probably been parked and hidden further down the road, waiting for him to pass before he approached the car park himself – checking Jackson hadn’t been tailed before moving in, just in case he’d brought his own security or cooperated with the police. He’d probably already walked the plot checking for cops, but as an everyday person going for a walk, not as Jackson was certain he would be now – dressed in his full Your View Killer uniform.
‘Clever boy,’ he said quietly as the white van came fully into view, slowing dramatically, coming to an almost halt at the entrance to the common, like a large herbivore cautiously approaching a watering hole.
Jackson strained to see into the cabin, but the tinted windows made it almost impossible, although he could make out the dark shape of a man … or woman, behind the wheel. He swallowed drily as his stomach tightened and his bowels loosened, the van inching into the car park and heading straight towards him, the gravel sounding like crunching snow under the slow-turning wheels.
‘Shit,’ he whispered through gritted teeth as the van finally stopped only feet in front of him. Jackson watched, almost unable to move with fear as the driver’s door opened and what looked to be a man stepped out, not as tall as he’d expected, but stockier than he’d looked on the Your View videos, dressed in the now familiar black overalls and ski-mask, the voice-distorting device across his mouth, connected to a black box on his chest. But what held Jackson’s attention most, what made him realize he might have made a grave mistake, was the sawn-off shotgun that the black figure was pointing at his chest.
