The Mechanic Trilogy: the complete boxset

by Rob Ashman

‘She broke his arm in three places, knocked out two of his teeth and fractured his eye socket. Like I said, she was a real piece of work.’

  ‘Shit. Why did she do that? She should have just backed off to protect her cover.’

  ‘Yeah, I agree. I can only put it down to instinct and training. The soldier lunged at her and that was it, she tore him apart.’

  ‘But how does that constitute being discharged? The army doesn’t discharge everyone who has a brawl in a bar, there would be no one left.’

  Harper nodded. ‘You’re right, but it didn’t end there. When the cops arrived to break it all up she was still beating the crap out of this guy. Two of the soldiers weren’t happy their friend had got a kicking, especially from a woman, so they followed Jessica when she left the bar. It all goes a bit fuzzy after that, but what is clear is at some point they jumped her, knocked her out, and dragged her into an alleyway,’ Harper looked up at Lucas, ‘and they raped her at knife-point.’

  ‘Hell, this just gets worse.’

  Harper took a deep breath. ‘They had her on the ground with her hands above her head. The first guy, Private Benjamin Stanek knelt on her arms and held a knife to her throat. The second man, Corporal Winston Westgate stripped her from the waist down and raped her. Stanek held the knife so tight to her throat that she was cut pretty deep. The movement of the other guy banging away caused the knife to slice her up. She regained consciousness during the rape but just let them get on with it. She didn’t fight back, didn’t struggle. She just lay there and let it happen.’

  ‘She didn’t fight at all? That’s weird given what you’ve told me.’

  ‘Yeah it is. She seemed to zone out. She just disengaged. They raped her and she did nothing. That was until the men went to swap places and that’s when she struck.’

  ‘Struck?’

  ‘Yeah, while they were concentrating on pulling pants up, pulling pants down and handing over the knife, she killed them both.’

  ‘Shit.’ Even in the gloom it was plain to see Lucas had his mouth open.

  ‘Not sure of the exact turn of events, but the result was she snapped Benjamin Stanek’s neck and he died at the scene. Westgate later died from massive blood loss and organ failure.’

  ‘She stabbed him?’

  ‘Not exactly, she beat him to a pulp and then sliced off his cock and balls.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘She cut off his bits and pieces, went to a pay phone, called an ambulance and left,’ said Harper.

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘The only reason I can think of is that she didn’t want him dead. She phoned for the medics so he would have a chance of living, but minus his genitals.’

  ‘Hell, that’s calculating,’ said Lucas.

  ‘The ambulance got there quickly and he lived for a couple of days. What Jess didn’t bargain for was the military police getting hold of what had happened so quickly. They transferred Stanek’s body and Westgate to the military base. They froze the police out. You know what the military are like for taking care of their own dirty laundry. Of course, in that environment, Westgate spilled the beans, and after a couple of days the MPs turned up at Jessica Sells’ place. By this time Westgate had died too so it was a double homicide and the army weren’t keen on one of their brightest and best being the number one suspect. They were eager to make a fast arrest and tidy the mess up quietly.’

  ‘But I don’t get it. After a couple of days she would have washed her clothes and scrubbed herself down. They would have struggled to make the DNA fit. All she had to do was deny it. This doesn’t figure. There were only the three of them so it was his word against hers and he was dead. She could have covered her tracks and got away with it.’ Lucas looked puzzled.

  ‘Wow, slow down there, Lieutenant,’ said Harper. ‘Don’t forget the knife made a mess of her neck and her blood was at the scene. But that didn’t matter because when the MPs entered Jessica’s apartment they found all the DNA they needed.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘They found Westgate’s cock and balls in a glass jar on her dressing table. It was a bit of a giveaway.’

  ‘Holly shit,’ Lucas said.

  ‘They took her into custody and during her interrogation she played it cool. After all, the army had spent a million dollars training this woman to cope in these types of situation, she was better equipped than they were. She said that if they pressed charges she would be forced to disclose why she was there, which would blow the lid off the covert op. Also, there were the families of the two dead guys to take into consideration. Did the army really want to make public the true reason for their deaths? It would be a publicity nightmare. She stood up to them and drove through a plea bargain. There was no court-martial and she accepted a discharge in return for sweeping it under the rug. No further action was ever taken.’

  ‘And then?’ Lucas asked.

  ‘She came out of the army and it all goes blank.’

  ‘How do you mean blank?’ asked Lucas.

  ‘She just fell off the grid. My source is good and well placed. We can only conclude she changed her name, set up a new identity and disappeared. If she is still out there, we can’t trace her. No housing records, driving licence, credit card references, social security number, healthcare claims, nothing. The list goes on and comes up with nothing.’

  Lucas snapped back to why he was there in the first place. ‘That’s a fascinating story but what does it have to do with Mechanic?’

  ‘Well, I keep hearing your words about always looking in the wrong place. I think we’ve been looking in the wrong place again. It’s why I asked the question at the start: how did you reach the conclusion Mechanic had a female helper?’

  ‘Sorry, Harper, I can’t see where this is going. I don’t get it.’

  ‘We turned over every stone in Jo’s past regarding possible boyfriends. Not a thing. After a very lively time with the opposite sex at college, Jo Sells went celibate. We found no one, not even a quick fumble.’ Harper took an audible intake of breath, as if to steady himself for what was about to come next. ‘I believe Jo isn’t protecting a boyfriend. She’s protecting her sister.’

  Lucas recoiled back in his seat as if he’d been shot. ‘That’s nuts.’

  ‘Is it? The only reason you think it’s nuts is because it’s a woman. If you switch the gender, and put a brother or boyfriend into the equation, it becomes a logical conclusion given what we know. Also, you didn’t make the supposition about the female helper, Jo did. She put that idea in your head and you went for it. I don’t believe there is a helper, it’s the same person. It’s Jessica Sells. And I believe Jessica Sells is Mechanic.’

  Lucas considered it carefully. Someone who was ex-army, special-forces trained, exceptionally bright and psycho would fit the bill completely. There would also need to be the other social triggers to make a monster but it would fit the Mechanic profile perfectly. It would also provide the rationale for why Jo would cover for that person. The fact that the counselling was being delivered by a woman was too close to home for Jo so she misled them with the woman helper argument. Harper was right, they were all eager to buy it because it conveniently fitted the picture. Lucas sat back in his uncomfortable wooden chair and folded his arms. The silence between them was broken by an angry hissing sound from the direction of the bar.

  ‘Gotcha, you little bastard.’ The owner said to the machine. ‘Coffee’s back on,’ he said to his customers who waved their hands in the air, a gesture which meant ‘Yes, a coffee would be good, thanks.’ He lined up a row of ill-matching cups and mugs. Lucas wondered if Harper had any further revelations in his box of tricks. He was mulling over the implications of what he’d just heard and the prospect of having to suffer the consequences of a longer stay, coffee of questionable origin and another trip to the dry cleaner.

  Harper reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a dilapidated wallet stuffed to bulging with till receipts. He flicked through and picked out a folded
piece of photocopied paper, flattened it out on the table and slid it in front of Lucas. It depicted a small grainy black and white photograph. Lucas lifted it from the table and tilted it against the light. He frowned.

  The photo was a head and shoulders shot of Jo Sells dressed in an army parade uniform, her cap under her arm against a backdrop of a large stars and stripes flag. She was smiling broadly into the camera.

  Lucas looked at Harper. ‘But Jo wasn’t in the forces. She went straight to Quantico from college.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Harper said. ‘But that’s not her. That’s Jessica Sells when she passed out of officer training. Jo and Jessica Sells are identical twins.’

  41

  Lucas sat on the wooden bench in St Clement’s gardens and stared into space. He often came here when he needed to push life’s reset button and the way life was going lately it was badly in need of pushing.

  He was very troubled. It felt as though he was constantly off balance. As if he’d lost his safe pair of hands and kept dropping the ball. He was losing control and drowning.

  He thought about Mechanic and how he and his team were being led by the nose. Every time they believed they were making progress, it had been engineered by Mechanic. And more frustratingly, it always turned into a blind alley. And now Jo had once again set them off on a wild goose chase. She’d had them looking for a second person, which conveniently explained away the identity of the counsellor as a woman. This was making Lucas angry. He had to be radical, he had to change tack and do something unexpected. He had to take a course of action which Mechanic had not already choreographed for him.

  The conversation with Harper was a turning point. He now knew something which Mechanic hadn’t gifted to him. He had an edge at last. The big question was how could he use it to jolt the investigation back in his favour?

  He looked at his watch. In the distance he saw them coming, right on time. This was a special place for Lucas because he’d discovered them by accident one day sitting in the park fumbling with the reset. It happened at more or less the same time every day in the summer months. Hundreds and hundreds of tiny birds flying in tight formation across the park, swooping down to the ground en masse to devour insects from the meticulously tended grass. They flew through the air morphing into complex shapes as though they were a single organism. Why they did this at the same time every day, Lucas hadn’t a clue, but they did. You could almost set your watch by it.

  He watched as they plundered their way around the park consuming their prey. In their tight cluster formation they weren’t afraid of the human traffic passing by, and soon Lucas was surrounded by the tiny killers. They flooded the ground where he sat and then, without any discernible signal, lifted off and flew to the next spot.

  As they got further away, Lucas focused on his course of action. It was clear what he needed to do but there was a problem. It was an all-or-nothing strategy. If it worked he would be a hero, if he was wrong he would be dead meat for sure. For him there was no option. It had to be all in. The reset button had been pushed.

  Bassano sat in Lucas’s office fidgeting with his watch strap waiting for his boss to return. His notebook sat on the conference table opened to the page which he was sure would be met with ridicule and anger. Short and narrow, not V-shaped with breasts. Bassano had a sinking feeling which intensified when he heard Lucas coming up the corridor. Lucas entered the office and cut straight to the chase.

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Well, she was agitated and aggressive.’

  ‘So would you be in her position. What did she say?’

  ‘She was full of drugs and the details of what happened were a little strange.’ Bassano was determined to put off the inevitable as long as possible.

  ‘She’s in shock,’ Lucas offered. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She was ranting when I got there but then broke down in tears.’ Bassano was dancing around the subject.

  Lucas lost patience. ‘Well, as you aren’t going to tell me what she said I’ll tell you my news.’ He got up and closed the office door. ‘I’ve just spoken with Harper and there is strong circumstantial evidence that Mechanic could be Jo’s twin sister.’ Lucas paused and was expecting a howl of derision. But none came. Bassano looked at his open notebook on the table, reached over and closed it.

  ‘Thank fuck for that,’ he replied, which was not at all the reaction Lucas was expecting. ‘Sophie Barrock gave a description which also suggests she was attacked by a woman.’

  ‘How come?’ said Lucas.

  ‘Well amongst other things her attacker had tits.’ Bassano was feeling a lot braver now. ‘Sophie Barrock’s face was crushed into Mechanic’s chest so hard it bust her nose and she blacked out. But before everything went dark she recalls thinking breasts. How did Harper come to the same conclusion?’

  ‘He uncovered some heavy shit about Jo’s sister which fits Mechanic’s profile. She’s ex-army and trained in covert ops. She has a clutch of combat medals and, among other things, was a signals and telecoms expert. She was also a total psycho and got herself discharged after killing two soldiers, American ones that is. And when she came out she disappeared and just fell off the grid. It gives Jo a compelling motive to provide cover. It all fits.’ Both men sat in silence.

  ‘Where’s Jo now?’ asked Lucas.

  ‘She’s at the Barrock house following her trip to the dentist.’

  ‘Get the tech guys in here. It’s about time we did some fishing of our own.’

  42

  It was late afternoon when Jo returned to the station. Her time at the Barrock house had been spent looking at blood splatter patterns, checking their angles of incidence with walls and furniture in an attempt to piece together the chain of events. She’d also assessed every minute detail of the figures in the car and the bloodied pathways to determine the sequence and method of loading. All of which was a charade performed for the benefit of the forensic guys because in reality all she had to do was pick up the phone and ask Mechanic what happened.

  She entered the incident room to find Lucas and Bassano deep in conversation.

  ‘Are you sure it’ll work? These technical jerks are never very reliable,’ said Lucas.

  ‘They said yes. I tested it out and got the message so I think it’s a goer.’ Bassano was sounding positive.

  ‘Hey,’ said Jo. ‘Sorry I missed out this morning. I went straight to the house after the dentist. It’s trademark Mechanic, a total bloodbath.’

  ‘I know. It’s nasty. Did you get anything?’ said Lucas.

  ‘I might have new insight into the bodies in the car. I reckon he dragged the husband into the garage and left him on the floor while he went back for the children. The blood is pooled at the offside of the vehicle near the driver’s door. This is the same MO as other kill sites.’

  ‘Nothing specific to go on then?’ asked Bassano.

  ‘Well, it again represents a consistent and repeating pattern. It must have some meaning for Mechanic, just not sure what. I need to work on it.’ Jo went to get a coffee.

  ‘We’ve decided to go on the offensive,’ Lucas said.

  ‘Oh, how?’ Jo said looking over her shoulder as she filled a Styrofoam cup, reached for a handful of sugar packets and began the unconscious ritual of making another sugar twist. Bassano lifted the receiver on the desk phone next to him, punched in some numbers and offered it to Jo. She put it to her ear and heard the tinny but unmistakable tones of Chris Bassano on the line. She looked at him as the message played, transfixed by what she heard. She was silent.

  ‘The technical department have worked out a way of putting a repeating message loop onto the phone line. When someone calls Mechanic’s number they will hear the message.’ Bassano looked pleased with himself.

  ‘But how does that work? I thought you said we couldn’t trace Mechanic’s line, so how do they know …’ she said, not finishing the sentence, still holding the receiver to the side of her head.

  ‘St
ill can’t,’ replied Bassano. ‘This just creates an open line so anyone dialling in gets this message.’

  It was Lucas’s turn to sound upbeat. ‘The message tells the caller they are in danger and this is not a hoax. It also tells them to get in touch with us as soon as possible. Maybe Mechanic’s next victim will call and we’ll get an undamaged person to question. It might also give us more intelligence on his whereabouts.’

  Jo replaced the receiver in the cradle having listened to the entire loop.

  ‘How long has it been …?’ Jo said, again not completing the sentence.

  ‘We’ve had it up and running for about two hours now,’ said Bassano.

  ‘If it’s an open line then presumably Mechanic can hear it as well?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the downside. It wouldn’t operate any other way. The boffins have worked hard with the phone company and I agree it would be better if only the caller got the message, but that’s the problem with an open line, everyone can hear. It’s far from perfect but it’s worth a shot,’ said Lucas.

  ‘And have you had any luck?’ Jo continued, still looking preoccupied.

  ‘No,’ replied Bassano. ‘If I’m honest, I think it’s a long shot but it’s worth a try. We know Mechanic goes fishing so we thought we’d give it a go. The other piece of news is Sophie Barrock is conscious. She had some useful information to tell us.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Jo sipping her coffee, trying hard to pull her raging thoughts away from the implications of the phone message.

  ‘She was also receiving counselling in the same way as the others, she is pretty lucid and angry as hell. She fought with Mechanic and put up a good show, so we are in the process of getting a physical description from her. Also, there’s a good chance that in the fight Mechanic left behind some forensics. I think we’re onto something,’ said Bassano.

  ‘And there’s more,’ he continued. ‘We checked out Mr IT Blowjob, and he confirmed that when he got back from his business trip he thought someone had been in his flat. Turns out he’s got a touch of OCD and is very particular about the positioning of things. You know, coasters, rugs, cushions, that kind of stuff. He reckoned they’d been moved.’