‘You know something Kiever you have got to be one of the most miserable bastards that ever spent a penny,’ grumbled Dane.
‘Watch your lip. I’m a member of the RUC. And your far from out of the woods Wally. Anyway you can charge it on expenses cant you,’ chuckled the inspector.
At the station they listened ardently, riveted to the ranting of a deranged individual. Over and over the recording spewed out it’s monologue of hate. Finally Kiever had heard enough. ‘Breen has been informed already. I had a few words with his lawyer. He volunteered to break the news personally. I never thought I would have sympathy for his kind. The brief told me that Breen just sat and listened. Said he never uttered a word. When the lawyer had finished he thanked him for bringing the news in person. Such dignity. As the lawyer was leaving he could here the man wailing. He said he had never heard anything like it before.’ All humour had disappeared from the policeman’s voice. He was emotionally drained. Dane perceived the inspectors anguish. ‘God Jimmy why do you think he is doing these horrible deeds? What is it that turns a human being into something as evil as this?’
‘I swear to God I don’t know Walter but we must do all we can to appease him.That’s my reason for telling you about Breen. I was on the phone with his lawyer after I heard the tape. He has agreed to let us tell a few white lies. In the interest of public safety, you will print the story exactly as we dictate it. You will say that you personally broke the news to Breen. You will also say that he lost control completely. Lead the killer to believe that Breen had no dignity that he defecated in his pants. Let the murderer think he had got through with his message. Make him believe that Breen is going through absolute hell and will probably do so for the rest of his natural life. Can you print a story like that?’
‘If I have to, then yes God help me, I shall,’ assented the journalist. ‘What about the blood of the victims?Shall I put his sick message into print?’
‘Yes I’m afraid you will have to Walter. Let the bastard know you can’t print all the details for fear of some psychopath copying the murders,’ added the inspector, looking ten years older.”
“Will do. Thanks Jimmy, I’m on my way,’ With a heavy heart the little reporter rushed from the police station.
‘There goes the only person who will score from this sorry mess,’ uttered Kiever dejectedly.
‘Graham,’ he screamed. The young detective came scurrying toward him.’Yes boss?’
‘I want you to follow Mr. Dane. See if he has any outside interests, just in case,’ commanded his superior.
‘I’m right on it boss,’ said the young man eagerly. The inspector made a mental note.He must remember to put his subordinate in his place. What did he mean by calling his superior boss? Christ he must think this is an episode of Kojak or something. ‘Now that Mr. Dane has gone let us try to make some sense of the latest evidence. Anyone got any ideas?’ he enquired of the remainder of his team. At first his youthful staff showed apprehension. Finally a red headed young man raised a tentative hand.
‘Yes Gaston? Come on man spit it out,’ urged the inspector impatiently.
‘Well sir it seems to me that our man is from the mainland. Probably English.’ answered the bespectacled detective.
‘Can you elaborate son?’ Keiver encouraged his subordinate.
‘I mean sir that he talks about us er I mean the Irish as if we were all scum.’
‘And,’ prompted his superior. ‘Could this not be a ploy to throw us off the scent?’
‘I don’t think so sir,’ answered Gaston, gaining in confidence. ‘It’s the terminology sir.He used the word Paddy. I don’t think that an Irishman would call another by such a derogatory name. I may be wrong sir but I have a feeling that I am not.’
‘And Gaston my boy neither do I. As a matter of fact, I think that you are spot on with your assumption. Sometimes it pays to go with your feelings. I believe for the first time our man, as you call him, has made a blunder. It wont be easy work homing in on the bastard because he is probably living on the mainland. It would make sense for him to travel in and out of the province to keep one step ahead of us. If we are really lucky we will see a pattern starting to form. It will be painstaking stuff sifting through all these bloody records but I’ll bet we can catch this prick soon enough. If he is using an alias so much the better. I want every airline, ferry, car hire company and whatever else you can come up with checked out. What we are looking for is a new visitor, someone who has started coming over on a regular basis. Say for the last year to eighteen months. That way we can narrow things down a bit. If we are lucky we may get a couple of visits that coincide with the murders. If we can match the visits to a gay middle aged punter, we’ll have narrowed the field, a hell of a bloody lot. Lets get going team. See what you can dig up. By the way, good work Gaston.’
Black sat irritably waiting for the Belfast Telegraph to hit the street. He was listening to a classical concert recorded live from Vienna. The music did little to calm his mood. He was tapping the steering wheel intent on the paperboy who was waiting patiently for the last edition of the paper to be delivered. Petulantly he thumped the off button reducing the car to silence. A smile masked his features giving him a deceptive angelic expression. A look he had perfected through the years and had became his trademark. Within seconds he had undergone another mood swing. Nathan was practically laughing as he depressed the button that lowered the window. Without speaking he held out a gloved hand containing a fifty pence piece. The boy came rushing over skilfully side-stepping the evening traffic. ‘There ye are mate. I’ve no change mister,’ lied the urchin. Black smiled and dismissed him with a wave. Happily the boy rushed away to answer the beckoning of another customer. The headline was incredible, just what he wanted. ‘Well done Mr. Dane. That’s more like it,’ he uttered the words almost reverently. Slowly he pulled out into the creeping snake that was Belfast’s rush hour. The banner kept resounding over and over in his head. ‘Maniac preacher butchers families of terrorists with the brutality of an avenging angel.’
‘Evil begets evil, Mr. Dane,’ whispered the killer.
The story was as near perfection as Black desired it to be. ‘A new kind of terror has been un-
leashed on our province. A serial killer is taking the law into his own hands.Families of known or suspected terrorists being tortured, sexually assaulted then mutilated before death gives them a blessed release. Police are seeking a callous fiend whose sick mind has made him believe that he is an avenging angel. Stalking the streets in search of macabre retribution. Another tragedy to bolster the catalogue of misery that is Ulster.’
Nathan Black was grinning from ear to ear as he hungrily devoured Dane’s every word. ‘Tut Tut Mr Dane, that’s laying it on a bit thick,’ he said in mock admonishment.’How can you say such things about me? Callous fiend with a sick mind, indeed. Why if I didn’t know better, I would think that you sympathised with the scum.’ The Englishman was elated. Dane had delivered everything he had asked and more, even to the point of visiting the murderer Breen. With relish he went over the paragraph which described a broken man who will live in torment forever. ‘Sheer poetry,’ he was practically purring. The familiar need was stirring, making him feel marvellous. ‘God life is wonderful,’ he murmured, as he dialled the number of his Irish conquest. ‘Ah Giles my pet. How do you fancy an evening of wine, excellent cuisine and of course oodles of debauchery?’
‘You’re back Nick. It’s great to hear your voice. I’ll be with you in an hour pet. By the way, I hope the wine is full bodied,’ bubbled the young waiter licentiously.
‘Oh I think you’ll appreciate the bouquet,’ said Black. With a grin he reached for the paper again. ‘Excellent Walter, you and I have a, one on one, interview pending. You can count on it. I do believe the time is right for some shock tactics,’ murmured the killer.
‘What now Con? Where we do g
o from here?’ asked Moira. She was referring to his other life as a member of the IRA.
‘I have already told ye darlin. My first commitment is finding this evil bastard as quickly as possible. I have no other choice. Surely ye must understand that. He has struck again and he’s not goin te go away. I have taken an oath and te walk away from this would eat at me for the rest of me days. We could never be happy together if I don’t see this through to the end. Please try to understand,’ he pleaded.
‘I think I’m beginning to understand Con but I don’t know if we can go on as we are.It’s killing me watching you go to God knows where. I lie in bed wondering if you will ever come back. I watch the door close behind you and imagine how I would cope if you went te prison, or worse still, te your death.’ Tullen felt the cold hand of dread grip at his heart as he watched her eyes mist over. He was torn, being pulled one way then the other. His sense of duty paled into insignificance as he contemplated life without this wonderful gift that was Moira. Yet he knew that there was no way out. His life’s work gnawed at his very soul. How could he simply walk away? The turmoil continued as he gazed into her childlike eyes, he could not understand. Why did this feeling of guilt tear at him? How could he make her see what he was going through? His love for her was so strong that life would cease if they parted but still he knew that love was not enough. He could not choose happiness before duty; years of conflict had trained him to be selfless. Their lives would be ruined if he walked away from the organisation with a maniac threatening it’s very fibre. Con had no idea what to say to her. His torment had made him mute. Every argument was futile. With a sigh he lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly. As their lips parted he found the words. ‘Only you know what is right my love. If you walk away I’ll understand. My political opinion means less to me now than one hair of your beautiful head. You own me but I cannot deny my obligation to the families that this monster has destroyed. As this man walks amongst us he instils a sense of fear that we cannot tolerate. Every murder committed would be like poison administered indiscernibly, little by little destroyin our love, inch by excruciating inch, driving a wedge further into our souls. One day we would awaken filled with an unexplainable hatred for each other. I could never let that happen darlin. Your love is the purest goal
I could ever aspire to. Please don’t ask me to watch it wither and die,’ he beseeched. The tears were rolling down her cheeks as sobs unashamedly distorted her body. Connor held her to him in a desperate attempt to console her. Slowly the sobbing eased to a whimper and finally stopped. Moira pulled her head from his chest and looked into his frightened eyes. After what seemed an eternity she spoke.’Con darlin, I could never live without ye again. Yer love is my most precious possession but I can not remain here with ye while ye consort with the ones I detest.When this is over come for me but don’t come if ye choose to remain in this God forsaken country. I am returnin to Derry tomorrow. There will not be a day goes past when you are out of me thoughts. A night shall not pass that you are not in my prayers. Tonight we must make love for the last time and I give ye my solemn promise that we shall never make love in Ireland again. Their bodies coupled in a frenzy that neither imagined possible. Their lovemaking was tender at first becoming so intense that they melted into one, reaching a crescendo of earth shattering release. Tullen fell into a dreamless sleep. Moira was gone when he awoke.
CHAPTER 32
Several months passed without incident. An uneasy calm fell over those involved. The RUC. had questioned all relevant witnesses. Dave Simmons, Una Breen’s friend, was suspected briefly but was released without charge. Word was released to both factions that he was blameless and this was duly accepted. Clements had questioned informants from all Belfast districts and surrounding areas. A few suspects had been lifted or dragged from their homes but all proved to be completely innocent. Unfortunately some were beaten because people refused to accept their right to be different. The frustrations of Black’s hunters spilled over into violence against Belfast’s gay community.
Nathan Black was uninterested in the plight of these innocent victims. To him they deserved what they received. After all they were only Paddies. Eventually he decided the time was right for another mission. He had sifted through his database and chosen a family living in Sydenham, which was an affluent suburb of Belfast. The family was young; indeed the mother was only twenty-one years and due a birthday two weeks hence. Her husband Alex Foster was currently serving life for his part in a series of sectarian killings. They had three children, twin boys of two years and a three-year-old girl. Black had come to know Belfast well. It was the young couple’s address that had drawn his attention.
‘Perfect and so very convenient,’ he smirked. How does a fucking boy such as he afford a house in a suburb like this? Their fate was sealed.
‘Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Edna. Happy death day, to you,’ he cackled. As always he was meticulous with his preparations. Watching the house for a few days before the chosen date, considering all options before deciding his course of action. The dwelling was quite old and stood on a couple of acres of land. ‘Perfect,’ he purred, after viewing it for the first time. A two storey, Victorian detached home, bordered by towering hedges, which in turn were guarded by massive oaks on either side. No problems at all with this one, he decided. He watched as the family went about their daily routine. The young mother, except for her brood, was completely alone. On one occasion he had actually stopped the woman in the local park complimenting her on her beautiful brood. ‘I just adore twins,’ he informed Edna. ‘And so well behaved, you are a very lucky young lady. Bidding her good-bye, he doffed his hat, leaving the unsuspecting mother flattered and in a considerably better frame of mind. Not many men paid her attention nowadays. Too bloody scared, she mused whimsically. ‘God he was a handsome one eh kids?’ she laughed. The twins giggled up from the stroller affected by her mood.
Edna’s birthday drew nearer. It would be her second birthday alone and she was determined to enjoy herself. Her twenty-first had been a disaster, spent at her parents who told her what an idiot she was to have got mixed up with a no account. She felt a sense of great loneliness as she reflected upon that evening. ‘Not this fucking time,’ she said out loud. ‘No fucking way Jose.’ Edna Foster decided to invite a few friends around for a hen party. She vowed that this was going to be a night to remember.
The Foster household was a buzz with excitement. The kitchen exuded the tantalising odours of home baking. Edna had left the children with her mother in order to have her hair done. She treated herself to a facial, donned a new dress that she had purchased especially and looked stunning. After picking the children up she returned home busying herself with the preparations for the evening’s festivities. Everything went like clockwork. The cake was iced; the lasagne was in the oven and Edna, drink in hand, sat waiting for her guests to arrive. Her first guest arrived a few minutes before seven thirty as promised. It was her best friend Lily whom she had known since nursery school days. Lily naturally had agreed to help with the food and drinks. By eight fifteen the kids were sound asleep.As nine o’clock chimed on her imitation grandmother clock Edna Foster’s celebrations were in full swing. Six young women having a good natter and getting slightly tipsy.
Black skulked in the shade of an oak at the rear of the house, taking in the scene through the kitchen window. Two of Edna’s guests were in the kitchen dallying with the food as the others danced to a Take That hit. It was a pleasant evening, unusually warm for the time of year and Nathan was having a wonderful time contemplating the events the evening held in store. Unaffected by the scene he watched as the revellers giggled and doubtless gossiped about boyfriends or the like.An evil smile creased his cheek as they marched into the lounge with the candles glowing proudly on the cake. ‘Ah, now is the perfect opportunity,’ he whispered. Unhesitatingly the killer strode across the lawn. The back door was ajar. ‘Silly gi
rls,’ he uttered smirking. The strains of Happy Birthday filtered from the lounge. ‘Happy birthday dear Edna. Happy Birthday to you. Face sternly set he removed the automatic pistol from his inside pocket and briskly entered the lounge. ‘Surprise, surprise,’ he shouted. At first there was confusion but this emotion quickly turned to one of panic. One girl began to scream. The gun gave a phut, jerked in his hand and the girl was silent. Overwhelmed with terror the others mouth’s fell open. Zombie-like they watched their young friend’s body contort and slam against the wall before sliding to the floor.
Lifeless eyes stared at them in a pose utter surprise. ‘Ladies, as you can see I mean business. It was not my intent to kill any of you, at least without a formal introduction but regretfully I cannot stand screaming bitches. Furthermore I will not hesitate to silence the next one who utters a sound. Have I made myself understood?’ There was a deathly silence, then as shock turned to realisation; one of the women began to whimper. ‘I realise that this has come as a shock to you ladies and you are wondering what kind of man, a complete stranger, would come into one’s home and disrupt the celebrations in this manner? Be patient ladies, all as they say, shall be revealed. I must say, you are showing a marked degree of restraint Mrs. Foster. I suppose being the wife of a murderer you have had considerable practice.’
‘What do you want you evil bastard?’ asked Edna, through clenched teeth.
‘That, my dear lady, is a very pertinent question and if you will bear with me, I shall endeavour to answer but first I must ask for your co-operation. Complete co-operation from the entire gathering,’ added Black, sweeping his gun laden hand to emphasise his demand. ‘Right, down to business. This is a party, so we should be playing party games.’
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