American Devil th&dl-1

by Oliver Stark

  ‘We’ve got about eighteen miles of sewer under this ground, Harper, and several thousand square feet of warehouse space. That’s gonna take some time.’

  Harper barely registered Lafayette’s words as he walked out towards the first line of buildings. He looked around him. The American Devil would have arrived at this compound with a body. He would need to get out of sight quickly. Harper scouted the horizons. There were cops all over it, like a war zone.

  Harper saw a group enter the nearest elevator house. They were out soon enough. ‘Elevator out of action,’ said a voice on the radio. Harper stared across. Going down into the ground would probably appeal to the American Devil, appeal to his fantasies. He walked over, gathering pace as he did so. Lafayette watched him from a distance. This was the time to leave Harper alone. Let the thinking man think.

  Harper walked round the elevator shaft. There was no evidence of anything untoward. He pulled open the wooden door and put his hand out to touch the button but stopped as he caught a glimpse of something. The silver button had a streak of grease across it, like sweat mixed with grime. Was it fresh from the team or someone else?

  Harper pulled out of the room and looked across the plot to the team. ‘Did someone try the elevator button?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s bust,’ shouted one of the guys. Harper went back inside and pressed it himself. Bust. It sure was.

  Harper went back outside. He closed his eyes. A shiver ran through his body. He only had his gut and his gut was telling him they were underground.

  Harper went back to the elevator shaft. He put his ear to it and thought he heard something. He suddenly felt the scent. He pulled at the doors, but they held fast. He went back outside and ran across to Baines. ‘I think I heard something in the elevator shaft. I’m going to see if I can take a look.’

  ‘Keep us updated,’ said Baines. Harper ran across to the NYPD truck and took out a shovel. He returned to the elevator shaft, jammed the blade between the doors and pushed. The doors yielded. He held them open a little and peered inside. The elevator was near the bottom of the shaft. Someone had gone down but not come back up.

  Harper had to go now if he was going to help her. He yelled across to Baines. ‘Get someone over here. I’m going in. She might be down there.’

  Baines told him to wait, but even as he said it, he knew that Harper was already moving.

  Harper squeezed past the elevator door and clung on to the thick ropes of coiled steel. There were three lines running all the way down. He threw his legs round the ropes and let go of the door. It clanged shut and Harper was suddenly suspended in mid-air in complete darkness.

  He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and put it in his mouth and then edged down slowly towards the elevator. The steel was ice cold in his hands and his progress was slow. A second later, he spotted the access ladder and swung across.

  It took a minute to get down the shaft. His foot felt for the top of the car and he dropped on to it. There was a small hatch. He pulled it open. Inside, the elevator was lit. There was no Denise. Harper looked down. There was dried blood on the floor. This was it. He had to be fast.

  Harper stared back up the shaft. Another team was just edging the door open. It would take too long to get help. Much too long. And it might even be too noisy.

  He had to go it alone.

  Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen

  The Lair

  December 4, 1.20 p.m.

  When Denise opened her eyes, she felt a throbbing pain. Her hands rose to her face and felt the bruise. Across the room, Sebastian sat against a wall and watched.

  ‘He’s coming now, Denise.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Harper.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I left him a clue. Abaddon. He’s good. He’s very good.’

  Denise stared. Sebastian was holding a piece of rope. He was knotting it carefully.

  ‘Then you should go.’

  ‘I was planning to kill him just like I did Detective Williamson. It has to be here now, Denise. But it doesn’t much matter. I have something for you.’ He held up the length of rope. It was a noose.

  He stood up. ‘You’re a clever girl. That trick with the light socket. I didn’t anticipate it. I didn’t know you had it in you.’

  ‘I want to speak to Nick,’ said Denise.

  ‘Oh, Nick,’ said Sebastian. ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘He wasn’t strong enough. He’s gone now. He can’t return. I showed him what I do to the girls and he couldn’t take it.’

  Denise looked at the ceiling. She saw the exposed metal framework of the concrete. Sebastian moved the stool beneath it and ran the rope through a loophole. He tied it tight. The noose hung in the darkness, swaying slightly.

  The next part of his plan needed to be instituted. He didn’t need Denise any more. She was no fun at all. She had served her purpose, to get Harper to pay attention. He would end it now. The killer flicked the rope. Then, in the distance, they heard a boom from the elevator shaft.

  The killer leaned forward and turned his head. ‘He’s here, Denise. Time’s up.’

  ‘You can stop this!’

  ‘Denise, he’s coming to save you. The knight in shining armour might carry you away and you might live happily ever after. Or not!’

  He grabbed Denise and held a knife to her throat. ‘If I kill you, it will be to hurt him, not you. I like you, Denise. I hope you realize that. Nick especially liked you.’

  He was different now. He was in a mode she had not seen before. He was over-excited but under steely self-control, in a world of his own. Was this his kill mode? Was this where he went when he killed? She’d never been this close to a killer. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t speak a word.

  He breathed deeply, the excitement coursing through his brain. ‘This is the easy way out for you. You will avoid the agony and the pain. You won’t have to see me again.’ He bundled her on to the stool and put the noose round her neck. ‘Jump off if you want.’ He bound her hands behind her.

  He knew what he wanted to see in this final scene. He wanted to see Harper’s eyes burn in pain as he looked at Denise, as his eyes had done when he read that Mo was dead. He had loved Mo.

  It was all about love. That’s all. Love for Mo and love for his dead girls. They were all he wanted and all he could never ever have, and knowing that they had gone, nothing else in the world mattered.

  Once they were dead, he loved them all. He didn’t know why, but he had such strong affection for them as their lives dripped away.

  ‘Love and death are so close, don’t you think, Denise? Love and death?’

  ‘No,’ she coughed. ‘I don’t think so.’ She knew time was running out. She wanted to keep him talking. Talking might help extend her life. ‘What happened with Lottie Bixley?’

  Sebastian was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t like them looking at me, Denise. I don’t like people judging me. Lottie was a whore. I watched her die through a clear plastic bag. Do you want to know what I did to her?’

  Denise couldn’t bear any more. ‘You’re nothing, you know that? You’re nothing.’

  Sebastian reached up and held her throat. He watched her twist and panic. Outside, a door screeched against concrete. Then footfalls rushed along the corridor.

  ‘Harper’s here,’ said the killer. ‘He’s come to save you. Do you know about the judgement of Solomon?’

  ‘Yes,’ Denise whispered.

  ‘Which one of us wants you the most, do you think?’

  The footsteps stopped outside the door. ‘Endgame,’ whispered Sebastian.

  Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

  The Lair

  December 4, 1.25 p.m.

  A group of rats scuttled across the path and disappeared through an open drain. Harper’s small flashlight bounced from wall to wall. His nerves were wired. He was alone, but somewhere above the ground the task force was going in hard. He felt like every sense was hei
ghtened as he darted along the tunnel and reached the heavy door. He held his Glock firmly in his hand. Sebastian would be ready for him, he knew that. He kicked the door open and stood back, his gun raised, his body tense. Down the corridor was a barred door. Two bars had been removed. Harper moved towards it slowly, looking out over the barrel of his gun. The light was dim in the room. It was lit only by candlelight, but Harper could make out a figure standing on a small stool. He reached the bars and staggered back, shocked.

  Denise stood in the centre of the cell, naked, bruised and bloody. There was a noose around her neck. Was this Sebastian’s final joke? To give him Denise, like this? To take something good and destroy it? Had he just killed her?

  ‘Denise?’ he called out, peering through the bars, looking left to right across the cell. No one else appeared to be there.

  He heard a response. A muffled, low, cracked voice. He put one foot through the door and glanced left and right. No one. ‘Where is he?’

  Denise shook her head. She couldn’t speak. Tom could see that Sebastian had wrapped something round her mouth. He shoved himself through the bars. The room was silent. He moved cautiously, aiming his gun, but he saw no one. The room was a simple box, and there was nowhere to hide. He moved quickly across to Denise and almost died inside looking at her. Her face was discoloured and swollen, but she was alive. That’s what mattered. Alive. He removed her gag. She was trying to speak, but her mouth was so dry couldn’t get the words out.

  Tom was momentarily confused, then he looked above him. There was someone holding on to the concrete mesh that crossed the ceiling. A set of strange twisted eyes bore down on him. The moment he looked up the body fell on him, taking him to the floor.

  Something heavy landed across Harper’s right shoulder, cracking bone as he hit the floor, causing the gun to fall and skid across the ground. The metal bar rose again above him. On his knees, Harper cried out. He felt the metal strike his back as the American Devil hit him again and again. His head caught a blow and blood ran down the side of his face.

  Sebastian wanted pain, not death. Pain and plenty of it. He could’ve killed Tom Harper with the first blow but he wanted him to feel the pain. That was his first mistake.

  Harper flicked his elbow back hard against the killer’s jaw. It was enough of a blow to make Sebastian step back. Tom turned, his fists clenched. He stamped his left foot into the ground and his punch rose from deep below his waist. His fist struck Sebastian’s jaw so hard, he felt the bones in his hand shatter. Sebastian flew off the ground and landed a few feet away. Harper moved across and leaned down to pull him to his feet. He found himself facing a long filleting knife. It touched his neck. Sebastian rose, holding the knife tight to Harper ’s skin.

  ‘I’m not going to kill you, Detective. I’m going to sacrifice you. You ready to be sacrificed?’

  He pulled Harper’s head up by the hair and exposed his throat.

  ‘This the man you care for, Dr Levene? This pathetic specimen?’ He pushed Harper closer to Denise, searching for the artery with the point of the blade. He just wanted a small hole. He wanted this death to be slow. Real slow.

  He smiled. He whistled. Denise felt saliva collect in her mouth.

  ‘You ready to taste his blood?’

  Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

  The Lair

  December 4, 1.35 p.m.

  Within the dark cell, Harper ’s neck strained under Sebastian’s heavy arm. He gritted his teeth and his neck muscles started to shake. Sebastian pricked Harper’s throat with his knife. A small line of blood ran down Tom’s neck.

  He stared up into Denise’s eyes. They were closed. He saw her eyeballs move under the lids. It was enough. Denise was thinking. What? Harper pulled his head round so he could see Sebastian.

  ‘I’m going to let her watch you die,’ Sebastian said as he looked at Denise. She was trying to draw spit into her mouth. She let the saliva gather and roll around her tongue.

  ‘Look at him, Dr Levene.’ The knife tensed in Sebastian’s fist.

  ‘You’re no one!’ Denise shouted. She drew a breath and spat hard into Sebastian’s face. His eyes shut and his face turned away automatically, covered in her saliva. His arm rose to wipe his eyes. So that’s what she was thinking. A distraction. It was enough.

  Harper had less than a second to react. He twisted away from the knife, let himself drop away from Sebastian and spread himself flat against the ground. In one fast movement, he looped one foot round Sebastian’s heel and rammed his other foot hard into the knee, trying to bust it right open. The killer ’s body kiltered backwards and fell to the floor.

  Harper had no idea what he was doing in the semi-darkness, but hearing Sebastian’s body hit the floor had given him the impetus he needed. He pounced across the floor and climbed on top of him and raised his fists. His knuckles felt no pain as they ripped into flesh and bone with pent-up ferocity.

  Sebastian felt the blows rain down on his face. He was just letting the pain reach him. Pain was a curious phenomenon. People tended to overreact to it. He smiled. His jaw broke and hung loose. His teeth cracked in his mouth. Then he lifted his shoulder and out of nowhere plunged a short-bladed knife into Harper ’s arm. The punching ceased. Harper stifled a cry. Sebastian threw him aside and laughed through his bloody teeth.

  ‘Detective Harper!’ said the voice of the killer. ‘Angry, aren’t you, Tom? Were you angry when you killed my little Mo? You fucking asshole.’

  Harper stared around the room looking for his options. ‘Why don’t you run?’ he said. ‘The cops’ll be crawling round here any minute.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think they’ll get me.’

  ‘They’ll kill you. They want you dead. You understand?’

  Sebastian moved to Denise. ‘She wants to taste your blood, but if she has to die, so be it.’

  Her hands were tied behind her back and she trembled on the old stool. Her head was pulled at an angle, the rope biting into the soft skin of her neck. The stool moved from side to side as she shifted her weight.

  Denise was badly damaged, but her spirit had not been broken. She was still ready to fight.

  The monster smiled. Harper looked at him, struck by Sebastian’s normality. He looked like everyone and no one.

  Sebastian’s foot was on the stool. He kept pushing it and letting it fall back.

  ‘Tom, my old friend.’

  ‘I don’t know you.’

  ‘But I know you, Tom. I know you all too well.’

  ‘No, you don’t. You don’t know anyone.’

  ‘You took my brother away.’

  ‘Mo?’

  ‘Love of my life, Tom.’

  ‘I didn’t take anyone. You killed him.’ Harper kept his eyes fixed on Denise. They didn’t know the way out of this one.

  ‘You took him and left me with nothing.’

  ‘You killed him, Sebastian.’

  ‘You were investigating his case, Harper. Chasing the poor guy. You knew he was simple. He was the victim, Harper, and you killed him — frightened him to death and let him die. He never killed a soul. That was all me.’

  ‘Leave Denise. Let her go. If it’s between us, then let her go …’

  ‘Very well,’ he said.

  The killer kicked the stool away. Denise’s body dropped a foot and the noose gripped her neck with a sudden jolt.

  Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen

  The Lair

  December 4, 1.40 p.m.

  The light from the candle was filtered through the motes of dust that had risen up from the floor. Harper felt the jolt physically in his own neck and leaped up to grab hold of Denise. His body ached from the beating and the wound in his arm but he managed to lift her to take the weight from her neck.

  She choked and spluttered. But she was still in the game. He pulled the gag from her mouth.

  ‘How tight is it?’

  ‘Tight,’ she replied with a low groan.

  She wasn’t dying, but Harper wa
s holding her with both arms. If Harper dropped her, she would swing again and the noose would tighten around her arteries and starve her brain of oxygen. In a few seconds she’d lose consciousness.

  Harper was helpless and so was she. Like stuck pigs.

  Sebastian turned. ‘Do you want to save her, Tom? Do you even know how you feel? I bet you think of what you’d like to do to her, hey?

  ‘I want you to suffer, Harper.’ The killer was circling his prey. Harper was feeling the weight of Denise’s body. His clavicle felt like it was broken and he was bleeding badly from his wound. Denise was listening. She had to try something. Something different.

  ‘Your blood is making a mess of the floor, Harper. How long can you hold her up and keep her alive, Tom? How strong are you? Big fucking hero!’

  Harper didn’t know how he was going to get out of this. Denise would die if he let her go and he couldn’t catch the killer unless he did so.

  Sebastian stood behind him. ‘How much pain can you take for her?’

  His knife drew across the back of Harper’s knee, deep into the flesh. Harper cried out and felt his leg buckle. But he held it.

  ‘Let us go or you’ll die here,’ he gasped.

  ‘Or you will,’ Sebastian countered.

  The knife sliced through Harper’s right arm. The cut went deep to the bone and Harper grimaced and let the pain be part of someone else. He held tighter to Denise.

  ‘Tom,’ she said. ‘Let me go or we both die.’

  ‘No,’ Harper said. ‘No one dies here.’

  ‘If you take him on, you’ll win. If you don’t — he’ll kill you and I’ll die anyway.’

  ‘Touching sentiment,’ said Sebastian.

  Harper was working something out. He could drop her but not for long. If he got into a struggle with the killer, she would die. He had to drop her and incapacitate Sebastian within a few seconds. How?