Web of Darkness

by Bali Rai

  ‘Still not ideal, is it?’ replied Mum. ‘I bet it’s hard enough being you as it is.’

  DC Evans smiled. ‘Wrong sort of plumbing never helps in this job,’ she said.

  Maybe that was why she’d been helping with family liaison when we’d first met her. Why she had to look after us, whilst her male boss was out doing the interesting work. I felt sorry for her, but was pleased that she was close. She made me feel safe.

  I made us scrambled eggs, toast and more tea, before Mum went to bed. She’d been trying to get hold of Dave but he wasn’t answering his phone. I hoped that she would get through – his was a face I would have been relieved and happy to see. DC Evans checked the garden again, and every window and door, before she let Mum go upstairs. Then she sat in the living room and answered emails on her phone. I joined her, wondering what a career in the police might be like.

  ‘You look shattered,’ Evans said when she caught me staring.

  ‘I am,’ I told her. ‘But I won’t sleep.’

  ‘You and Tilly are really close?’

  ‘That charm?’ I said. ‘I gave it to her, back when we were kids. I’ve got one too. She’s like my sister . . .’

  Evans nodded. ‘We’re doing all we can,’ she said.

  ‘If I hadn’t kept her secret,’ I replied, ‘maybe this wouldn’t be happening.’

  ‘Did you keep secrets for Max?’ asked the DC. ‘Amy? Molly Cooper? This chain of events isn’t your fault, Lily. It’s a rare, unforeseen occurrence . . .’

  ‘Yeah, but—’ I began, only for Evans to stop me.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘The only person to blame is the perpetrator. Don’t go shouldering responsibility that you haven’t earned . . .’

  I nodded and looked at the muted pictures on the TV. ‘My mum said that too,’ I replied.

  ‘Well, we can’t both be wrong.’

  The Spider sits outside the police station in another hire car, booked using the credit card of a Japanese man from Osaka. The flat they arrested him at is his own. The place where he lurks, however, is rented through a dummy company. Should they discover it, and they will, they won’t find his name listed as a director. That name belongs to someone else. Someone who is yet to conclude his role in the game.

  The man he calls the OTHER . . .

  The Spider believes that the last three hours have been worth it. The police questioned him, and they harassed and cajoled him. Yet they have nothing on him – something he already knew. After all, they are merely the pawns. The Spider orchestrated every stage of this game. Every thread was woven carefully, painstakingly into the others, until the web was complete.

  It is his creation and he is God here . . .

  The police will never find the Spider. They won’t even search for him. They search only for the killer. He will give them their man. The face that they will feed to the media. Like a gift, the Spider will present the police their quarry, cocooned in silk. And when their killer’s name rings out from every news website in the world, the Spider will disappear back into the shadows. Ready to start again elsewhere.

  The Spider yawns. He sets his alarm. Three hours of sleep are all he can allow. Then it is time to complete this game . . .

  40

  DC Evans slept on the sofa, and in the morning a uniformed Asian woman called PC Kaur replaced her. Mum slept late, and I did nothing – just watching telly, texting Kane and thinking about Tilly.

  PC Kaur was slightly built, with big brown eyes and short black hair. She stayed in the living room with me, trying to chat. I was too tired to respond, however – too overwhelmed by what had happened. School, revision, exams – none of it mattered now. Only Tilly.

  At around midday, DC Evans came back and the uniformed officer seemed glad to leave.

  ‘Has anything happened?’

  DC Evans shrugged. ‘You’ll see it on the news anyway,’ she told me. ‘The man we arrested last night – a man called Joseph Spinner. We had to release him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s not him,’ she said. ‘We had nothing to hold him on – no evidence, nothing. It was just a prank call. Some idiot wasting our time.’

  I didn’t know anyone called Joseph Spinner. But I did know I’d been right about DI Meadows’s downcast expression the night before.

  ‘You said we knew him,’ I reminded her. ‘Last night? You said the victims knew the man you’d arrested.’

  ‘They did. He works at your school.’

  ‘But I don’t know anyone by that name,’ I told her.

  DC Evans sighed, grabbed my remote control and switched to Sky News. ‘His name got leaked to the press overnight,’ she said. ‘Joseph Spinner is an IT technician employed at your school.’

  ‘Him?’

  He didn’t look like a killer. He was just some gamer-boy nerd with a job. More importantly, why would someone play such a stupid prank at such an important time? The murder enquiry was national news. Three young people were dead and another one missing. What went through the minds of the idiots who wasted police time like that?

  ‘You do know him, then?’

  I nodded, just as Sky News ran the story. ‘Never spoken to him, though,’ I told her. ‘He doesn’t teach or anything. Just helps out when IT goes wrong.’

  ‘My boss was going crazy,’ she said. ‘About the tip-off and the leak. Says Mr Spinner could sue us . . .’

  ‘So, nothing new on Tilly?’

  DC Evans nodded. ‘We’ve found some stuff,’ she told me. ‘The Hi-Tech Crime Unit have managed to unravel all the IP trails . . .’

  I felt my excitement rising. Hope too. ‘Where do they point?’

  She shook her head. ‘That, I can’t say,’ she replied. ‘Don’t worry – the way our department leaks, it’ll be on Twitter by tea time.’

  My phone buzzed, making the coffee table vibrate. ‘Could you pass me that, please?’ I asked DC Evans.

  She shook her head, smiled warmly, and picked it up. ‘I want one of these,’ she told me, studying the screen. Then, suddenly, her face changed – the warm smile became a glare.

  ‘What is it?’

  She paused before replying. ‘It’s Tilly,’ she said.

  An instant wave of nausea hit me.

  ‘She’s just sent you a message . . .’

  I felt the shock before my expression revealed it. DC Evans handed me the phone.

  Please call me. Now!

  I shook my head. He wasn’t getting me again. ‘It’s him,’ I told DC Evans. ‘This is another game . . . what do I do?’

  Evans thought quickly. ‘Call back,’ she told me. ‘Put it on speaker . . .’ She got out her older smart-phone and found the memo recorder function. She placed it on the table. ‘Put yours next to it,’ she said. ‘I’ll hit record when it’s answered. It’s not ideal but it’s all I’ve got . . .’

  I sat upright and did what she said. Tilly’s phone rang a few times before being picked up. DC Evans tapped the screen on hers to begin recording.

  ‘Hello, Lily – Mummy feeling better, is she?’

  His voice had a metallic, raspy edge. Something hit me. Why would someone I didn’t know disguise his voice? There seemed little point.

  ‘Are you there, Lily? Do speak up!’

  I looked to DC Evans for help. She nodded and mouthed ‘Act normal’.

  ‘Where’s Tilly, you freak?’

  Evans rolled her eyes, then shook her head.

  ‘Hello, lovely Lily – how are your thunderous thighs this fine morning?’

  ‘Tell me where she is!’ I yelled, causing DC Evans to flinch slightly.

  ‘Maybe. Depends on how good you are.’

  ‘I’m not playing your games any more!’

  ‘That makes two of us then …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m tired of all of this, Lily. I might leave this place – go on to better things. Bigger things. This world is so mind-numbingly tiresome.’

  ‘See – I said you were a coward �
�� always hiding.’

  ‘You see – that’s where you go astray, Lily. Always quick to make assumptions. I can go away and stay in the spotlight simultaneously . . .’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Why would you, Lily? You’ve been raised on a diet of tedious and dreary nonsense masquerading as culture. You’re a dunce, Lily – an obtuse poster-girl for a simple-minded, unperceptive generation.’

  ‘You talk shit, Benedict.’

  ‘Benedict? Oh, he was erased a while ago, Lily. This is me. The real me . . .’

  DC Evans wrote ‘TILLY????’ in her notebook and thrust it at me. I nodded.

  ‘Where is Tilly?’

  ‘Tilly is safe. Do you want to see her?’

  DC Evans nodded vigorously.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then tell the lovely officer sitting with you that I will call back in forty minutes. Bye!’

  DC Evans’s eyes lit up and, like Kane had done, she ran outside to find him. And just like Kane she was too late.

  ‘Bastard!’ she yelled, as she trudged through the door.

  Mum came downstairs, dressed and with a towel wrapped around her head. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  DC Evans shook her head and explained everything.

  The OTHER replies immediately. The Spider tells him to get ready.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ asks the OTHER.

  ‘Cleaning up your mess,’ the Spider replies.

  ‘Well, hurry up – I’m getting pissed off.’

  ‘I will be there in twenty minutes.’

  ‘You’d better be.’

  The Spider brakes to a halt. Some things cannot be allowed to stand. There is a hierarchy. There are rules. ‘If you wish,’ the Spider tells him, ‘I could drive elsewhere. Perhaps to the police station? Maybe I might try my skills out on your life. Your credit card, your reputation . . .?’

  ‘I’m just annoyed about being here for so long,’ the OTHER whines. ‘Nothing personal.’

  ‘That is good to hear,’ the Spider replies. ‘I’d hate to get personal with you.’

  ‘Yeah – sorry.’

  ‘Be ready for me.’

  The call ends. The Spider shakes his head. No partners next time . . .

  41

  He called back on time. Almost to the second. His voice remained disguised.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  By that point, the house was full of police officers. This time DI Meadows was my guide. He nodded, as the technicians began to record the call.

  DC Evans stood on the periphery with Mum, looking pissed off.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I will text you the location. Where is the police officer – DC Evans?’

  Meadows raised an eyebrow then motioned for Evans to approach. Her mood changed immediately.

  ‘I’m here, Mr . . .?’

  ‘Very witty, DC Evans. You won’t catch me out.’

  ‘They all say that.’

  ‘They are all average. I am special. To be the early bird with me, DC Evans, you would have needed to wake up months ago. You cannot dream up a predator such as me. I am the Alpha—’

  ‘Just shut up and tell us where she is!’

  The last reply was mine. Meadows gave me a death glare, while Evans half smiled and gave me a wink. I felt the blood rush into my face, colouring my cheeks.

  ‘Thank you for that interjection, Lily. I’m with you – all this waffle when you could be saving your best friend.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘DC Evans and Lily must come alone. I will be watching. If I see any sign of other officers, Tilly dies.’

  ‘I won’t bring the girl.’

  ‘DC Evans – you will do what I say. You and Lily – you have precisely thirty minutes. If you are late, she dies. If you disobey me, she dies. I would think on that, DC Evans. I would think very carefully . . .’

  ‘I understand. How do we know Tilly is still alive?’

  We heard shuffling over the line, then Tilly sobbing into the phone.

  I spoke first. ‘Tilly!’

  ‘Help me please! Lily??? Lily???’

  My heart raced and I could feel the blood it pumped around my body. She was alive. My sister was alive! ‘We’re coming – me and a police officer,’ I told her.

  ‘Please . . . please!!!’

  DC Evans took over. ‘Are you OK, Tilly? Has he hurt you?’

  ‘Now, now, DC Evans – you’ve had your chat. Time to play.’

  ‘But I—’

  The line went dead.

  Around me, DI Meadows was making hand gestures to his colleagues. Mum looked at me and shook her head. I nodded in return. The officers had a quick conference. Within seconds, they had decided a strategy. Mum told them I couldn’t go but DC Evans talked her around.

  ‘She’ll be with me,’ Evans said to her. ‘I won’t let anything happen. I promise, Laila.’

  DI Meadows called Evans over. They stood and whispered to each other in the hallway, their hand gestures animated. Eventually both returned.

  ‘It’s not something we’d ordinarily ask,’ Meadows said to Mum. ‘But DC Evans is right. We have so little time. We’ll put your daughter in a protective vest and every step she takes will be covered . . .’

  Mum nodded.

  ‘As soon as he confirms the location, I’ll have units cordon off the area,’ Meadows added. ‘The perimeter will be wide – he won’t see us.’

  ‘Air Support a go!’ shouted another officer from the living-room door.

  Meadows acknowledged him and looked at Mum. ‘You see?’ he said. ‘We have everything in hand, Mrs Basra.’

  ‘Mum?’ I said.

  ‘I can’t,’ she replied. ‘If you get hurt I’ll . . .’

  ‘I have to go!’ I insisted. ‘I didn’t tell you about Tilly’s secret man. It’s my fault and I want to make it right! If something happens to her, I won’t be able to take it. At least this way, I tried to make amends. I tried to put things right!’

  Mum gave me a hug and wiped away tears. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘but you listen to DC Evans, OK? You do everything she asks . . .’

  ‘I will,’ I told her.

  A minute later the text arrived. Evans grabbed the phone. ‘Sat-nav coordinates,’ she said. ‘Let’s go!’

  Fear began to creep into my mind but I fought back with anger. I wanted to see this man. I wanted to face him. I was going to watch him pay . . .

  The girl is beautiful, according to some. Her hair is straight and pale yellow, her face sharp angles and symmetry. Her lips are plump bows, her body lithe and toned.

  The Spider moves closer to her, watches her chest rise and fall. Her eyes betray her fear, as does the fetid stench of her breath. She mumbles and sobs, and he realizes that she is pleading with him. He savours her insignificance . . .

  The OTHER is already gone. Moments earlier, he watched the Spider try out the noose. The Spider had attached it to the upper section of the platform. Made a show of testing its strength. He’d pulled it and checked it – narrowed and widened the loop. Eventually, he’d asked the OTHER for an opinion. The man had approached – oblivious to the peril. He’d stood before the Spider, peering at the rope.

  ‘Will it hold?’ the Spider had asked.

  ‘Looks fine to me.’

  ‘Just check the boards,’ the Spider had urged. ‘The building is old. We have to be sure.’

  The OTHER had moved closer to the edge, his back to the Spider. One smooth movement was all it took. Loosen the loop. Slip it over his head. Push him out into the air.

  The OTHER was gone the moment his neck snapped. No time to reflect, to think beyond his utter shock at the way his life was ending. His legs twitched and twisted, his ultimate death mask a grimace.

  Now, only the girl remains. Once she has stopped screaming into her gag, he moves towards her. Her chest rises again and he smiles. She begs with her eyes, her face a patchwork of pale skin and scarlet blotches. There is
no saving her. No mercy. She will become the Spider’s last message. Lily will understand, he thinks. She will know, each time she fails to sleep, that the Spider is true to his word. That now his power transcends the boundary between real and cyber . . .

  The Spider looks at his watch. He runs through every detail one last time. Ticks every box, follows every thread. Satisfied that he can leave without being followed, he relaxes at long last. His work is almost done.

  When it is time, he strokes the girl’s face. He whispers to her, tells her not to cry.

  ‘Everyone will know your name,’ he tells her. ‘Your face will grace a thousand websites. Tears are not appropriate.’

  Then he positions her beside her lover. She begins to shake her head. Tries to struggle. He whispers one final message.

  ‘Lily’s next . . .’

  He shoves her with his right leg.

  The rope snaps with tension and she is no more . . .

  42

  We drove south for a few miles, before eventually turning right down a narrow road. DC Evans said nothing as her radio squawked – she was concentrating on the road. A couple of miles along, a track appeared to our left. It seemed to disappear into a dense copse. DC Evans stopped and looked at her sat-nav.

  ‘That must be it,’ she said, reversing and taking the turn-off.

  ‘Hurry, please!’ I told her. ‘We have to get there in time . . .’

  The track was tight and rutted. Trees towered on each side, creating a canopy above us and casting long shadows in the gloom. My nerves returned, and my stomach knotted. The going was slow, but after maybe five minutes we emerged in a clearing. A semi-derelict barn stood in the centre. Building materials surrounded it – concrete blocks, bags of sand and bricks – and part of the rear had been renovated.

  ‘This looks like an abandoned project,’ said DC Evans. She parked the car and waited a moment. Then she spoke to her boss, describing the scene for him. Turning to me, she set out the rules. ‘You wait here,’ she said. ‘I’ll go in, and make sure it’s safe.’

  ‘But if he’s in there,’ I replied, ‘you’ll be in danger.’

  DC Evans smiled. ‘That’s what I get paid for,’ she told me. ‘Whatever happens, you don’t move, OK?’