"If you think I'm going to let you rot here, you'd better think again," Lance said, standing up and moving toward the door.
"Damn it, Lance. Don't do anything!" Aidan screamed after him, getting to his feet. "You've got a wife. Don't get involved. Carol, talk to him for God's sake."
"Don't worry. I'll keep him in sight."
Back in his cell, he realized that they'd come to find out what he'd got from Bradley. They'd already made up their minds to keep after the Blacks and Whites.
"Carol, don't do it!" he screamed. But there was no one there.
# # #
Ethan Gord sighed after Earl Black walked off. The big man was still searching for his mark, the huge mallet swaying at his side.
"Maybe we should keep out of this," Ethan suggested, grabbing Dylan by the arm as he took off after Earl. "We were about to get involved and we can't do that. Leave the big bloke alone."
"You're joking, aren't you? Speak for yourself, my friend. You're the one who can distract him. Not me. Besides, this is what we're here for. Don't pretend that you don't want to know what will happen."
"We shouldn't have come," Ethan lamented.
"Rubbish. We're not breaking any law," Dylan Blair informed him. "Stop worrying about it. Let's go. We're going to miss all the action."
The millionaire went after Earl, with Ethan following behind. Once again he couldn't fault Dylan's arguments, and he was curious to see everything for himself. He mixed in with a crowd that was following the black-suited giant.
"I hope this animal doesn't finish James off," Dylan said.
"We'll soon find out."
Earl stopped and put the mallet down on the floor, staring at a bar in the middle of a ring of shops that surrounded the fountain. After a while he started walking again, but just before he got to the bar he stopped again, as a woman in a wheelchair came down a side passage beside the bar. He lifted the mallet up in both hands as she wheeled her way towards him.
"Christ," Dylan exclaimed. "Is that who I think it is?"
"I'm afraid so," Ethan replied. "It's Ashley."
Earl threw the mallet through the air. It spun straight towards Ashley's head, but she ducked at the last moment, and it crashed into the floor with Earl just behind. He picked it up and hurled it at her again with all his might.
The knock was devastating. The mallet stopped on the back of the wheelchair, producing a deafening thunder. Ashley was thrown out of the chair and fell heavily several yards away. The wheelchair turned around its axis several times, bounced and knocked down three young men who were looking in the opposite direction.
"I don't get it," Dylan said. "I thought Otis was losing. Seems I was wrong."
"I can assure you when I checked it with Big Ben that Otis was doing real badly."
"But look for yourself. It's Ashley who's on the floor. Otis could win right now and it would be all over."
"She's not beaten yet."
They watched Earl approach the woman on the floor. He stood over her, one massive foot either side, lifting the mallet over his head. It seemed like the whole shopping centre was screaming.
"Well, I'm no expert but this looks like the end," Dylan said.
And with a terrifying roar Earl tensed his muscles and delivered the final blow, as Ashley turned just in time to see the giant mallet crashing down upon her head.
# # #
Aidan Zack walked back and forth in his cell, desperately trying to calm down. Everything had changed since Carol's visit. Until she'd come he'd been resigned to whatever fate was coming his way. He was facing the consequences of his actions stoically, but Carol and Lance had changed all that. He wasn't the loner he liked to think he was. There were people who cared about him in spite of his defects. But he was worried about them now. And he didn't doubt James White's words. They were in great danger.
But he couldn't do anything from his cell. He felt completely impotent.
"Are you all right, Tedd?" a child's voice asked. "I don't think there'll be anywhere for you to sit down here."
Aidan Zack looked up and saw a child around ten years old on the other side of the cell. He had the strangest violet eyes that Aidan had ever seen. What was a kid doing here? And as he rubbed his eyes, an even stranger individual appeared, an old man of indeterminate age, leaning his weight on a walking stick with his sparse grey hair tied in a ponytail that hung down his back.
"Don't worry, Todd. My legs don't feel as tired today."
"I want to believe you, Tedd," Todd said, worried. "If you feel tired just lean on my shoulder."
"Where did you two come from?" Aidan asked.
He felt strange in a cell in front of these two. An old man and a child who could easily be his great grandchild, here in the police station? How was it that nobody had stopped them coming in?
"Thanks for your offer, Todd," Tedd said, smiling, "I think we had better explain a few things to our friend here."
"I think it's better that you do that, Tedd," Todd suggested. "After all, you're his lawyer."
"My lawyer?" Aidan said, incredulous. "Is this a joke?"
"It seems that he doesn't want my help, Todd," Tedd said. "He's one of those who judges people by their appearance."
"I'd be happy if it was only that," Aidan said. "You look like you're a thousand years old so I guess your experience must be vast. But why are you always looking away? If you were my lawyer you'd be looking me straight in the eyes."
"Maybe you are right, Tedd," Todd agreed. "Nevertheless, I think it's a case of simple ignorance. Our dear prisoner here doesn't know what you're capable of."
"And you're not looking at me either, kid," Aidan said, beginning to get irritated. "Strange lawyers you are. I'd like to see you interrogating witnesses and putting your case before the court the way you're talking to me now."
There had to be a hidden camera somewhere. The whole thing seemed like a set-up. A pair of individuals like this wouldn't be able to go anywhere without being noticed. Even their names caused confusion. And the violet eyes had to be contact lenses. There was no way he could imagine these two within ten miles of a courtroom.
"I don't like his tone, Todd," Tedd said, "It's obvious he doesn't care much for my abilities."
"He'll change his mind, Tedd," Todd promised him. "As soon as he finds out this excellent news you've brought him, he'll have to apologize."
"OK, I'll fall into the trap," Aidan said.
He couldn't avoid feeling intrigued by the strange pair. Besides there was nothing much he could do but listen, locked up as he was. But what were they talking about? What news could they possibly have that would interest him?
"Ah, no. There's no way I'm going to tell him unless he apologizes first, Todd," Tedd grumbled, lifting his walking stick above his head and turning it a couple of times for effect.
"I dedicate my life to looking after you, Tedd," Todd reminded him. "But you've got to help out. Let the stick do what it's supposed to and stop getting all worked up."
"I understand. Accept my sincere apologies, Tedd," Aidan said, getting used to their strange way of talking. "Would you be so kind as to inform me of this news that you've brought?"
"My intuition was correct, Tedd," Todd observed. "You see how he's changed."
"Much better that way, Todd," Tedd said, "I wouldn't like to think we're getting an impolite person out of jail."
"What? I can't get…" Aidan stuttered. "You can get me out of here?"
"He's doubting me again, Todd," Tedd reiterated. "We're going to get him out of here within the hour once the paperwork's in order. And he still doesn't believe me."
"It's a question of good faith. He'll have to see it, Tedd," Todd said. "He's obviously so impressed with your good work that he doesn't know what to think."
"Who hired you?" Aidan asked suddenly.
"Surely, you are right, Todd," Tedd said. "Anyhow, we've completed our mission and now I feel tired."
The child offered his arm to the old man and they began to go back
to wherever they'd come from.
"We can't go without letting him know that it was Wilfred who hired us, Tedd," Todd said as they disappeared.
"Thanks for everything," Aidan's voice echoed in the empty cell.
He threw himself on the bed and went over the incredible conversation that had just finished. No matter what happened from here on in, one thing was certain, he'd never forget Tedd and Todd.
He'd have to wait an hour to check and see if what they'd said was true.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 21
Although his serious expression didn't reflect it, Allan White felt so happy that even the prospect of having to kill someone couldn't darken his mood. He was walking around a large shopping centre, inspecting every detail around him, carrying a steel spear in his right hand that was longer than he was tall. His white suit shone under the overhead lighting in all its splendour.
The reason for his good mood was that he'd just discovered his therapist was right. He wasn't suffering from split personality syndrome. The simple fact of having released the harness in the gym to go after a new objective was proof enough that his personality wasn't fractured. He was conscious of what he was doing. He still didn't have the whole affair crystal clear in his mind, but he knew someone or something was influencing him to such an extent that he had new goals and desires to fulfil. That explained why he had come here and let the poor fellow drop to the floor back in the gym.
Anyway, none of that mattered now, what did was him being himself. Several people got out of his way as he walked down the passageway; he could see fear and apprehension in their eyes, but paid no attention. He was on a mission.
A child, around six years old, approached him and stretched his hand out to touch the spear, but Allan just lifted it higher and continued on his way, unaware of the mother running behind the child, grabbing the kid and dragging him away, with a look of panic written across her face.
Further ahead, the passage led to an open mall. Allan tensed the muscles on his arm and glared at three boys who were staring at him.
One of them pointed his way. "Look at that. What's this beanpole doing here with a spear in his hand?"
Allan tried to ignore them. He knew he looked different. He was six foot six tall and weighed only ten stone which made him look even taller. And dressed in a white suit carrying a seven-foot spear, it was unlikely he'd be missed wherever he went.
"Check out the suit he's wearing," the one who had pointed at him laughed. "It's not his style."
A great crash echoed in the distance and Allan saw an enormous object moving behind the trio of laughing boys. A silver wheelchair bounced off a column and crashed into the three teenagers, knocking them over.
The moment had arrived. Allan began running and jumped over the stunned teenagers. He left the corridor and headed for a large fountain spitting water high into the air in the centre of the mall. He found what he was looking for straight away.
Without wasting a second, he extended his right arm behind his body and threw the spear with all his strength. The projectile sped through the air as straight as a dart and pierced the back of a huge man dressed in black, just as the giant was about to bring a huge mallet down upon a woman lying prostrate on the floor beneath him. The spear went through his chest and the man in black fell heavily to one side of the woman as his mallet thudded down against the marble floor.
The woman pulled herself off the floor without any sign of having been afraid or even of having been bothered. She contemplated the dead body with a look of satisfaction.
"Great throw," a male voice called out.
Allan looked out of the corner of his eye and recognized his admirer straight away. He couldn't remember his name, but he'd seen him on television several times in all sorts of public disputes. He was an eccentric millionaire, if Allan wasn't mistaken, and was accompanied by a youth who also struck Allan as being familiar. He was suddenly curious. How did he know this young man? He couldn't guess how, but he was certain that he'd met him at some time in the past.
A shrill whistle cut through the air. Allan felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder and fell to the floor with hot blood streaming out, his white suit sleeve stained red. The head of a black arrow had pierced his shoulder and two more whistles announced the arrival of another two arrows that slammed into the marble between his legs.
# # #
"Lance, back off a bit," Carol begged him. "I want to get Aidan out of this hole as much as you do, but that won't happen if we have an accident."
"Sorry," he said, "I didn't realize."
A little while later they arrived at their destination and Lance Norwood left the car on the pavement as there was nowhere else to park. Carol couldn't get the idea out of her head that Lance was imitating Aidan's behaviour, even if he wasn't aware of it. His car was going to finish up the same as Aidan's if he kept going like this.
"They still haven't fixed it," he said, looking at the sign hanging over the lift door.
The young journalist followed Lance up the stairs in silence, thinking about their conversation earlier that morning in Aidan's flat. They'd put all the information they had about the Blacks and Whites on the table and, after studying the way in which they'd changed houses, she'd said how sure she was that it was one of the Blacks that had escaped from Aidan when he ran into Dylan Blair a few days before. And that meant he should be living here now.
They'd confirmed that when a Black or White killed one from the other gang, the killer would take up residence in the victim's house. And, as if to confirm the event, Big Ben registered it by stopping. The clues had begun with William Black. Somebody had cut his head off with a sword and, following the strange logic involved, another person had gone to live in his house. That someone happened to be Peter White, who in turn was killed by a boomerang. Carol was convinced that a Black killed Peter and should have occupied this flat at that time. They'd soon find out if that was true.
Carol continued walking in silence. She would die of embarrassment if she had to repeat aloud the strange logic that she'd employed in dragging them to this place. At first they'd decided to go after James White but they soon gave that idea up. James had made it clear in no uncertain manner that he had no intention of telling them anything. So it was better to try and find an easier mark.
"I don't want to run any risks with this," Lance said, in front of the flat door. "If it's him, we'll keep him away from the window."
Carol nodded. Lance knocked on the door and they heard footsteps approaching. The door opened and a frowning individual with black eyes and hair stood before them. He didn't look like either James or Earl. He was around five foot ten with a normal complexion. There was nothing unusual about him. Lance wasn't sure if he was the man Aidan had been chasing or not. He'd only seen him from a distance. But he did have dark skin and black eyes.
"Do you mind telling me what you want?" he asked grumpily.
"Mr Black?" Lance asked.
"Who wants to know?"
"I'm DS Lance Norwood. And your name?"
"Kodey Black. Is there a problem?"
"Stand back!" Lance said. The man looked stunned, but obeyed Lance's order. "You're under arrest. Turn around."
"This is absurd," he protested. "What am I accused of?"
"Killing Peter White," Carol explained.
Lance pushed him into the room and forced him to sit down. Two days before he and Aidan had been here looking at William Black's decapitated head.
"I haven't got the foggiest what this is all about," Kodey said coldly.
"We know that you killed him with a boomerang," Carol said. "You cut his head off in the street after cutting a street lamp in two."
"Seriously? That's an interesting story," Kodey laughed. "Have you got any proof? Perhaps you've got the murder weapon?"
"We've got witnesses," Lance told him. "You're going to pay for that, unless you tell us everything. You know what I'm referring to. "
"No. No, I don't. A
nd the whole thing means nothing to me at all. I wouldn't tell you anything even if I did know something. So go ahead, use these witnesses you're talking about. I'm scared to death." He laughed again.
"That's enough jokes for now. I know you killed that man. You're one of the Black gang and you're going to tell me about your war with the Whites."
"Now I see it," Kodey said, changing his tone. "Maybe I've judged you wrong. Do you want to know where I get the black suit from and all that stuff? I used to pick it up from the dry-cleaners regularly. Listen well, because I'm not going to repeat it. I don't know how I did all those strange things, and it doesn't bother me if you believe me or not. Have you got that clear? I haven't got the least idea about any of this."
"I'm asking you for a favour. Give us something," Carol said. "One of our friends is in trouble. He's in jail and we can't get him out if we don't get to the bottom of this first."
"You're breaking my heart, beautiful," Kodey said. "I've already told you I don't know anything."
"Bloody fool," Lance snarled. "I'm going to make sure they put you away for that murder."
"Good luck. Tedd and Todd are my lawyers and they're excellent. I can assure you of that. They got me out of a similar situation three years ago."
"We'll continue this chat down at the police station," Lance said. "Being locked up might loosen your tongue. Get up!"
Kodey didn't offer any resistance as they left the house and went down the stairs. He didn't say anything until they got to the street.
"I can't go to the station," he said nervously.
"You're already on your way. Get in the car," Lance ordered him, shoving him in the back.
Lance Norwood was on the point of losing it. His partner was locked up in jail like a common criminal and this curious individual in front of him hadn't offered even a scrap of information that could help. Lance suddenly felt as if he wasn't a good detective. Aidan would have got Black to talk one way or the other. But with him in charge, nothing had happened.
The Big Ben mystery Page 20
