by Gavin Graham
It all trickled down the wall like a tin of baked beans.
Red Dot flinched and his face got splattered with bits of skull, bone and cartilage. The chair flew back but latched on the wall at a perfect angle, leaving his legs and arms dangling out to the sides. He no longer had a face, just a red, mangled mess of remains.
“Ho, ho, ho…! Look at the Red Dot! Fucking shot, or what? Look at the face! Fucking nice one!”
Red Dot had his head down to the left and was taking staggered breaths.
“Alright there, auld yin’? Been a while since you saw any shit like that, eh? Back in your SAS days though, must have been a riot, eh?” Mad Dog stood right in front of the old assassin with the sawn-off hanging down by his right leg. Again, he lifted it high and pumped it. “Red Dot! I’m going to ask you a simple question and I want a simple answer. Are you going to help me, or not?”
“Aye’, I’ll help ye’.”
“Well done, auld’ yin’. That was a bit too easy though, not much fight for a battle-hardened combat man, eh?”
“Cut the bullshit, I said I would help, now what’s this about?”
“It’s about a wee girl that I very dearly loved,” he lied, “those bastards killed her, the same way they killed your wee girl.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“That night, out at the farm house in Cleland? It was the McConnell boys, they did it for a laugh. Pissed out their nuts on Buckfast. They took turns at raping her before hanging her up by the rafters and setting her alight.”
“How do you know this, were you one of the team?”
“I heard them boast about it one night, Fat Boy was always doing that kind of thing, raping girls and wee boys even. He’s a Beast. And, I’m gonna’ give them a wee taste of their own medicine. You with me?”
“Aye,” he was stone-faced and cold, old Richardson, but you could see it was getting to him. “Right, I’m in, what’s the deal?”
“You know them better than I do, I’ve been off the scene for quite a wee while, you see? So, I just need some information. Arthur’s three boys, they must have women in their lives too: wives, daughters and so on. I want names and addresses. Is that doable?”
“And then, you’ll let me go?”
“You promise not to tell anybody about this wee deal of ours?”
“Aye, you have my word.”
“Then, it’s a deal,” Mad Dog took out a pen and paper and together they began to jot down a Kill List.
Chapter 36
The kill list
Evil men pray on the trust of innocents, it has been that way since the beginning of time…
“Speak, Red Dot. I want a solid list of names.”
“Paula McConnell.”
Mad Dog wrote it down.
“She’s jist’ a wee lassie, Down Syndrome too, so she’s not all there. Know what a’ mean?”
“Aye. Fair enough, I’ll be gentle when I slit her throat, I promise,” he smirked.
“She’s Fat Boy’s daughter, he’ll be in bits if she disappears.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. She’ll be gettin’ the ‘psycho-package’ too then; too bad for her. I’ll take lots of photos after I’ve raped her wee spastic body and given her a one-way ticket,” Mad Dog chuckled as Red Dot recoiled with disgust. “Address?”
“She stays with Fat Boy at his place in the Gorbals.”
“Good stuff. So, who’s getting smoked next?”
“Razor’s a bit of a Dark Horse when it comes to relationships and stuff. Rumour is though he’s head-over-heels in love with a woman called Glenda Bishop, a right hard old boot, she runs a brothel off Blythswood Square. The one that was in the papers, where that serial killer’s mother worked, remember? The Casanova Killer?”
“That psycho that was getting women into bed and chopping them up, Hannibal Lecter style?”
“Aye.”
“Tut-tut, there’s some dodgy characters out there. Is there not, Red Dot?”
“Irene Campbell should be on your list too, she’s Dancer’s daughter from his previous marriage, an Art History student at Glasgow Caledonian University. She’s in student digs but spends the weekends with her mother and the new boyfriend. Dancer is besotted with her, anybody lays a finger on her, they’ll have lynch mobs hunting you down on the streets.”
Mad Dog smirked.
“Right, so what’s the deal, then? Are you letting me go?”
“Err, well before we get to that, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“What’s that then?”
“Well, I just wanted to say that I told you a lie, the McConnell lads didn’t even know your daughter.”
“What the Hell are you playing at then, I don’t understand?”
“For an SAS man, you don’t catch on that quickly…”
The military man just frowned.
“Terrible the way she hung like that, your wee girl, out there in that old farmhouse shed. Wasn’t it? A right cold night it was too, and she just lay there on the ground showing off those pale blue silken panties to a taxi driver. Terrible. Now, normally, I wouldn’t have done it. OK? But she was a wee cock-tease, know what I’m saying Red Dot? That wee daughter of yours was a little fucking cock-tease. Flaunting that bare arse, putting it right in front of me like that, I just couldn’t resist such an open invitation, could I? She asked for it, begged for it… I tell you what, too, she was a good little fuck. Well, as far as unconscious girls go, she was pretty OK. Nice and tight, she was. You catchin’ my drift now, old man?”
Red Dot went berserk, shuffling and straining in his chair, cursing like a trucker. “Why? Why? Why?” the tears had finally welled up and he broke down. “Whhhyyy?”
“Because, I didn’t like you, you were on my turf…and I wanted to be Arthur’s number-one hitman. He needed a fearless youngster on his team, and I was the real deal, not you…”
“You sick fucking bastard,” he totally lost it, a trembling, weeping wreck.
Mad Dog laughed like a psycho, hysterically, as he raised the sawn-off and took aim directly at the old soldier’s cranium, ready to blow it clean-off. “Sorry, mate, but I just wanted to share these little details with you, so it will be the last thing you remember before you die.” Mad Dog pulled the trigger.
Chapter 37
The Beast that lurks at the gate
Protect the innocent, for they are easy prey…
Three wee girls, arm-in-arm, the one in the middle looking ‘not-quite-right’, came skipping down through the High School gates.
Jolly.
Full-of-life.
Rosy cheeks.
It would have been quite an iconic sight, but for the fact that the one in the middle would get swept off her feet; not in a good way either.
Two of them caught the bus and the middle one took off on her ‘wee walk’ home.
Not too far - no danger - what harm could be done to her?
Her parents had bothered themselves in careful deliberation, before deciding on awarding her this freedom, to ‘empower’ her. Now, they would regret it, for a deviant was on the streets and he was set on giving her the ‘psycho-package’. She skipped away from the Bus Stop cul-de-sac, waving to her pals on the bus, to emerge on the main pavement where a Land Rover had just pulled up on the side.
A suited-man with red hair and Ray Ban sunglasses jumped out. “Paula McConnell, can I have a word? Police,” he showed her his ID. “Sorry about this, I just need to ask you a few wee questions, if you wouldn’t mind getting into the vehicle.”
“Sorry? What do you mean?”
“It is with regards to a criminal investigation, a murder enquiry that your family is tied up in. I just need a few words to be able to put you in the clear and then I’ll drop you off at your mum and dad’s house, OK?”
“But, it doesn’t seem right, I’m not supposed to talk to strangers…”
“Are you resisting arrest? If so, I will be forced to take you to the station and c
harge you.”
The girl frowned and blushed.
Murdoch smiled, his ‘evil’ smile, watching with delight as she pissed herself. The flesh of her inner thighs visibly trembling as yellow streaks of urine came streaming down, spoiling the softness of her veiny, white skin.
“Oh, come along, sweetheart,” he consoled her, in a mocking and patronising way. “I’m sure you haven’t done anything wrong, just a few questions, that’s all? My colleagues, in fact, ensured me that you are totally innocent and have nothing to worry about with regards to the investigation.”
“Really?”
“Yes, totally. Look, I’ve got ice cream in the car, do you like ice cream?”
She smiled, suddenly, nodding with naivety and a new-found purpose.
Inside the spacious cabin of his 4x4 vehicle he indeed had a nice ice cream cone for her: a strawberry-flavoured Cornetto. As he pulled away from the kerb, he looked out the window and muttered beneath his breath. “Enjoy it sweetheart, cause’ it will surely be your last.”
He got her settled-in, back at the cottage, camera running as she lapped up ice cream like the simple soul she was. “So, what I’m getting at here is that you may have been complicit in certain of your father’s criminal doings and of the McConnell family’s business at large. Albeit you may have done so unwittingly, but we could still wind up charging you. You must have seen things, heard things at home, which means you might get a jail sentence in the up-and-coming trial.”
“You said I was innocent, that everyone knows it?” she stopped with her chomping.
“I believe you, that’s why I want to help you.”
“I don’t know what you mean, I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“But, that is not how the Judge will see it.”
“I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong…I promise…please, I just want to go to school and play with my pals…”
“Prison isn’t that bad, to be fair, it’s a bit like school. They even have ice cream there, once a month you can get one small spoonful. Ten years gets done in no time at all. You can make nice friends too, lots of girls your age up in Barlinnie, in fact they just built a new section for girls just like you. I don’t think they have much in the way of activities but at least you will be spending less time with the paedophiles and rapists. So, that can only be a good thing, right?”
“Will they do bad things to me?”
“Aye, sadly they will do some bad things to you,” Mad Dog said with mock remorse. “But, it’s just a part of prison life, sweetheart. Rape. Assault. You’ll get used to it though, I can see you have a strong character, and that means you’ll be a survivor.”
“It isn’t fair though. I didn’t do anything. I’m a good girl who doesn’t swear or anything. I do all my homework - all of it - I promise.”
“Such is life, I’m afraid, bad things happen to good people every day, sweetheart.”
“Is there anything I can do, to really prove my innocence?”
“Well, yes, perhaps…”
“What? Anything, just say what it is…”
“Well, if you want, and I would only be doing it as a massive favour to you…”
“Yes, of course, what?”
“Maybe, I could keep you here with me, you could be my ‘special friend’?”
“Would you feed me ice cream?”
“Yes, of course,” he giggled to himself. “But you would have to do something for me in return.”
“Of course, what?”
“Well, special friends do special things for each other.”
“Like, what?”
“Well, for example, would you let me touch you in your special place?”
She blushed and looked like she might piss herself again.
“Has anyone ever touched you, in your special place?”
She shook her head. “Not really, Daddy sometimes has to sniff it to make sure it is clean, that’s all.”
“Are you a virgin?”
She nodded.
“Well, I can make sure that your first time is really special, and I will make you my very special girl. You will be my dedicated slave, OK? And you can eat all the ice cream in the world. You know what a slave is?”
“No…”
“It is a very special girl who loves and serves a very special boy, like me, and they do special things and eat ice cream when nobody else is watching.”
“OK,” she went bolt-upright again with that insatiably determined smile, her ‘ice cream’ smile.
Mad Dog smiled, glancing at the camera, the whole thing was getting caught on video and he would send all the marvellous footage of his evil deeds to the Godfather himself. “Do we have a deal, then? I promise that your special time with me will be a million times better than the horrible times you’d be forced to endure in that awful prison with the crooked guards and evil girls who would steal your things and bully you like Hell, till you cry and wet yourself.”
She stopped licking, again, and looked down at the ground. “What about Mummy and Daddy?”
“I’ll be your family now.”
She looked horrified, but relieved by his proposal at the same tim.
“Do we have a deal then, you’ll be my special slave?”
She nodded her head, enthusiastically.
“OK, well how about we have some more ice cream, then after lunch I’ll show you how I can touch you in a very special way?”
Again, she nodded and smiled.
Chapter 38
A monster’s grooming of a virgin sex slave
Evil of the mind is the cancer of humanity…
He coughed and felt an acute dryness at the back of his throat. “Why don’t you take off your skirt and slide off those little panties, eh?”
The simpleton went rigid again, her face flushing hot. “I don’t like this anymore, I want to go home.”
“You know what? I think I am going to withdraw my kind offer of a luxury home-protection scheme. I think with your attitude being as it is, you’re going to serve your time in jail.”
“No, please…”
“Just in time for the new programme to start too, unlucky for you.”
“What programme?”
“The Electric Chair…”
Her face was a picture.
She didn’t piss herself put the tears welled in her eyes as the bottom lip trembled.
“Yup, young girls who are connected with major criminal investigations will all be getting sent to ‘The Chair’, you know what that means? Death by electrocution? Sweetheart, all your sweet little juices are going to sizzle and bubble like Fizzy Pop! And those adorable little slanted eyes of yours will pop right out of your stupid fucking head. Yeah, you’re going to be a right little sizzler, I can tell just by looking at you. I think I’ll have to come along too, to see the show, and smell your meat as you get fried to a crisp. Yeah, it’s going to be delicious.”
She began to weep, a weird little performance of grunting and snorting and blowing bubbles.
“There was me giving you a way out though, offering you a chance at life, a real chance. And you reject it? What the Hell is wrong with you? Are you a fucking spastic, or what?”
“Don’t call me that! Look, I’m sorry, please, I need you to protect me. Don’t let them kill me like that…”
“So, what’s it to be then? Can I really trust you now?”
“Yes, you can…”
“Sweetheart, if you cross me one more time, I will cut your fucking throat. Don’t you dare abuse my hospitality here, got that?”
“Yes, I’m begging you, please. Let me be your slave. I can be your special virgin sex slave…really, I can. You want to see my special cunny? I never showed it to anybody apart from Daddy before…”
Mad Dog slanted his eyes, deviously and looked at her sideways. Fat Boy, he thought. Dirty, filthy paedo bastard…
“You want to have sex with me, now? I won’t disappoint you…I will be the best slave in the world…please…” she
was truly pleading.
Murdoch smiled, glancing again at the video camera. “OK, just peel off your pissy little cotton panties sweetheart, time for Mad Dog to see what a virgin retard really feels like.”
She undressed, clumsily so, but she acted like she was the sexiest damn woman on God’s sweet earth.
Poor soul, what a bloody charade…
She sat on the edge of the bed, her pudgy little legs spread, and with two flat palms she stretched out her inner thighs to show the killer her youthful pink opening.
“Can I touch it?” he asked her, like they were best friends, exploring for the first time.
She nodded, with a glint of adventure and curious excitement.
Murdoch touched and probed, easing the tip of his middle finger inside her. He watched her frown, but she didn’t flinch as he expected her too. He guessed that she didn’t have much feeling down there, he wasn’t even sure that Down Syndrome girls had any kind of sexual inclinations whatsoever, but there was a response nevertheless.
He suddenly felt disheartened by the act of abusing her sexually, it wasn’t getting him aroused, so he realised then that her true destiny would be for a quick ending by rear-end strangulation.
Yes, that would be the end of it.
“Sweetheart, please lay down on your tummy and face that way,” he gestured to the camera. “I’m going to make it really soft and gentle for you, because it’s your first time, OK?”
“OK,” she obeyed, smiling still, like it was all a game.
Poor soul…
He knelt beside her, caressing the shallow curvature of her otherwise flat back. Her body was dense and weird and she had an odd posture. He touched her, sized her up, the way a masseur might do with a client. He put her arms down straight by her sides, indeed, as though he might administer a sensual oil-massage. He touched her hair, using his fingers to clear the neckline, not wanting clumps to get stuck between belt and skin as he squelched the life from her chubby little neck.
“Everything OK down there?”
