Serial Killer Android

by David Scott

  The concierge was gone; there was nothing they could help with now. The welcome desks stood empty, and probably would for some time. It was like an empty film set awaiting its actors.

  Luke imagined that some opportunist entrepreneur would likely buy the hotel’s lease cheap, and use it to market paranormal experiences in the soon-to-be infamous killing suites.

  Dan and Luke approached the officer standing in front of the two elevators, whose job it was to check identities and access permissions. He paced slowly back and forth but stopped when they came forward.

  They flipped open their small, leather card holders to show their FBI picture, badge and signed credentials. “Assistant Director Dan Goodchild and Special Agent Luke Harrison of the FBI,” Luke said, “we need to go up to the fifteenth floor, please.”

  The officer nodded, and pressed the call button. A large, golden pointer dial above the first lift started to move, counting down the floors to the lobby. The elevator did not understand the urgency of the situation, and moved at its usual, slow pace. The three of them stood awkwardly in silence, awaiting its arrival, before the doors pinged open expectantly.

  “After you,” Luke said, holding the door, in case it decided to automatically close. Dan walked passed him into the small lift. Luke noticed that the carpet floor had the day of the week printed on it, as he followed Dan in; a novel touch for the mindless masses whose days all seemed the same, and blurred into one.

  Luke pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, and thought about how Pulcinella would have done exactly the same thing only several hours earlier. How he would have stood and waited during the ascent, listening to the mundane music, before starting his killing rampage. The lulling tones of the elevator belied the monstrosities which it would soon present to its occupants.

  Luke could normally cope in an elevator for a short time but the walls were closing in on him and, the more he looked around, the worse he felt. Dan was looking towards him, concerned. The enclosed space was limited but Luke noticed that they were standing closer together than required. He could feel his hairs bristle and reach out, tormented by apprehension, and excited by Dan’s close proximity. Luke breathed in deeply, as they neared the fateful floor.

  The shining doors opened unhurriedly, as if building anticipation for the appalling sights which lay ahead. It did not disappoint. The camel coloured carpets lining the long, narrow corridor were soaked with pools of blood. Red hand marks were randomly imprinted on the cream walls, like some kind of gruesome graffiti. Occasional blood spatters stained the walls creating contemporary patterns. It could almost have been a modern art installation, Luke thought, as his brain tried to normalise what he was seeing.

  The air in the corridor was warm, and stale. How many people had breathed it in, circulated it around their body, and exhaled it out, having drained it of its oxygen, its purity? Not now. The dead had no need for air, and any left in them was currently being disgracefully vented from their bodies. The lack of natural ventilation created the perfect breeding ground to propagate the stench of death and the onset of decay.

  Dan placed a reassuring hand on the square of Luke’s back; it was timely and necessary. Luke moved on up the corridor towards the numerous bodies scattered along the floor. Each was covered with some opaque plastic sheeting, awaiting removal after being carefully chronicled and numbered, after having their final photograph taken. None of them would have believed that their last photo would be that of their hacked-up corpse; there was no warning to smile for the camera, no time to pat down their hair, or to apply some last-minute make-up, or dress in their smartest clothes. No, there was not time for any of that, and all that those looking at their images would see was a murder victim; a bloody pile of skin and bones, staring blankly into endless space.

  Luke was grateful to be spared from seeing what lay beneath the sheeting but felt a deep sadness at the tragic loss. One of his family could just as easily have been numbered. It was all so unpredictable and random. Although, life is random, and nobody knows when their number might be up; it could be today, it could be many years. How could anyone believe this sort of massacre could help humanity? How could anyone have the mindset, let alone the stomach, to carry out such barbaric acts? Luke struggled to comprehend it, as he looked at the various tagged bodies which would now be part of a new family album.

  “How many are there?” Dan stopped, and asked, one of the forensic team passing nearby one of the corpses.

  Dan identified him as part of the forensics contingent because he was wearing a white, plastic boiler suit, goggles, and a restrictive mask, covering his nose and mouth to stop contamination. The team were like a fright of living ghosts walking the corridors alongside the imperceptible spirits of the recently departed; all dressed in similar attire to blend in, not wanting to scare away the quivering souls before all of the evidence had been collated.

  “There were 42 in all, sir.” The forensic agent said remorsefully, almost apologetic in his tone.

  Dan let out a heavy sigh, “And are you in charge here?”

  “No, sir. Diana Laws has oversight of this forensic investigation. I think she is in room 1502, if you would like to speak with her. Brace yourself though, sir, it is quite a sight in there.”

  The agent moved on, leaving Dan and Luke alone in the corridor. They looked at one another before walking gingerly around and between the bodies, down the corridor, towards room 1502.

  Dan noticed that Luke’s face was white, and he wasn’t looking so well. Maybe he was pushing Luke too hard. Or perhaps he just needed a break from all of this for a little while. Time to gather his thoughts and rally himself.

  Dan saw that the fire exit door was slightly ajar, and nodded towards it.

  “An easy escape route,” Dan said disappointedly, “We will need the whole area searched and examined. Could you please go and make sure that the surveillance tapes have been preserved, and take a look to see if there is anything which stands out? There are two cameras here in the corridor,” Dan pointed them out, “And there may well be some in the stairwells or outside. Can you also check that the forensics team will examine the stairwell and surrounding area?”

  Although this was necessary work, it could have waited a little while longer. The real reason for asking now was that Dan wanted to give Luke some respite but needed to delegate to him some legitimate work, so that Luke would not suspect his true motive. There would be plenty of photos to pour over later to detail every aspect of the scene. Dan also preferred to be alone when meeting people for the first time, as it was easier to build a connection and trust on a one-to-one basis. This seemed to be a win-win idea.

  “Of course, Dan.” Luke replied, happy to leave the scene but not wanting to disappoint Dan or to leave his side, if he was needed or wanted, “If you are sure you don’t need me here to speak to Diana Laws?”

  “No, Luke, you go.” Dan said encouragingly, “We need to check every angle as soon as possible. The timer has already been reset, and the clock is counting down to another month already. We have to act fast, and it is better if we split up for now. Let’s reconvene in, say, an hour or so?”

  Dan did not like to be apart from Luke, but this was for his own good.

  “Ok, Dan.” Luke said energetically, wanting to please Dan and suddenly finding his second-wind, “I will get straight on to it.”

  Luke quickly disappeared back down the corridor, as Dan cautiously approached room 1502

  Dan instinctively knocked on the bedroom door, out of politeness, before slowly opening it and entering.

  Inside, there was a double bed backed up against the wall. Two bodies lay atop of the once cream blankets. One was wrapped in a, now familiar, plastic sheet; a new type of bedding for the unsuspecting victim.

  Ejaculations of blood had sprayed all over and around the headboard, penetrating the porous, brushed-cotton padding. The bed clothes were soaked, with deep crimson stains spreading out across the entirety of the mattress, as it soake
d up and swallowed the bitter juices of the stiffening lovers; the heat of their previous passion now lifeless and cold.

  The other victim was not hidden, spread indecently naked on the bed, with a highly visible, thick cut channelling across the diagonal of his entire body. His arm was flayed out and hanging down over the end of the bed, without any support to protect it from gravity’s ceaseless drag. His torso was torn apart, with ivory-like ribs revealed and pointing upwards, to encage and display the neatly sliced organs within.

  Dan had quite a robust constitution but the sight of this even tickled his gag reflexes, and left him retching. He had to turn away to regain control over this natural, human response. After a couple of seconds of deep-breathing, he regained his composure, and looked back towards the bed.

  Standing over the bodies was another forensic agent. Dan assumed this must be Diana Laws, however, it was hard to tell as she was shielded from the outside world by her ubiquitous, plastic goggles and unisex, white coveralls. It could have been anyone.

  Diana was peering down into the carcass, turning her head from side-to-side, bird-like, as though this was a normal sight. Dan wondered at her ability to do this. He squirmed some more, when she put her gloved finger in to the body, and started to poke around the fleshy interior. She was so deep in concentration that she had seemingly not noticed Dan’s arrival.

  “Hello,” Dan said, quite loudly, keen to interrupt her macabre manipulations, “Might I have a quick word with you, please?”

  Diana immediately stopped what she was doing, stood upright, and turned around. Much to Dan’s relief, her body was now acting as a wall between him and the corpse, so that he could no longer see the nauseating sight.

  Diana pulled down her hood, and adeptly removed her goggles; her black hair falling gently on to her shoulders, and resting perfectly in place, as her honey-coloured eyes beamed keenly towards him. Smiling heartily, she reached out her svelte hand towards Dan. They could have been meeting at a social gathering, such was the warmth of her welcome.

  “Ah, you must be Assistant Director Goodchild.” She said, taking his hand firmly and shaking it with rigour, much stronger than Dan had expected given her petite physique, “Diana Laws. Pleased to meet you. I was hoping you would call by.”

  “Hello, Ms Laws”, Dan started.

  “No, no, please call me Diana. And might I call you Dan? I believe that is your first name. I just can’t abide unnecessary formalities.”

  Dan noticed that Diana spoke hurriedly, with an almost exuberant tone.

  “That’s fine with me.” Dan paused briefly, to give emphasis to the fact he was following her request, “Diana.”

  “Well Dan,” she continued without waiting for any questions, “We have quite a mess here. Seems like this poor, old chap didn’t stand a chance. Well he wouldn’t really, given that he was lying down.”

  Diana suddenly let out a quick, little, repeating laugh; like the trills and squeaks a dolphin sometimes happily whistles out.

  “Sorry. That was probably inappropriate in the circumstances. Really, though, Dan, if you didn’t laugh you would cry. And that would be no good. It could contaminate the scene.”

  Dan nodded to show he was on side. While he did think that humour was out of place, he was not a judgmental person, and acknowledged that it might be necessary in certain professions to keep you sane; not that this tactic had ever worked for Dan but then he was not naturally witty, so it was not something he had ever deployed to help himself.

  Diana did not pause for breath but there was something engaging about her.

  “So, we have a male, approximately 28 years old,” Diana immediately resumed talking, “A large laceration across the length of the chest, probably made by a razor-sharp blade of about a half-inch in thickness. It cut cleanly through the ribs. Carved several organs. Heart, liver, lungs. At least death would have been pretty much instantaneous. It was pretty much the same for the female, except she was a bit older, about 42, my age. Naughty lady.”

  Diana gave Dan a cheeky smile, which spoke more than words could ever do about how she was clearly impressed by the final deeds of this unknown woman.

  “Well, at least she died having one last bit of fun. Or who knows, maybe they were in love. Or married. Although I find that highly unlikely, given they are in a hotel room having sex. Unless they are newlyweds, of course. Oh no, it might be their honeymoon.” Diana looked genuinely sad at this train of thought.

  “Diana,” Dan brought her back to focus, “What about the others, how were they killed? Were they all the same?”

  “Oh no. Well, actually, some were, but there were a lot of different killing methods used.” Diana was back to her cheery self, easily distracted from her temporary gloom, “Some were poisoned by gas, others shot, there were electrocutions, stabbings. Oh, and one person was speared. I mean, how do you even get into a place like this carrying such a thing? You name it. It is quite a list. I am chronicling it all in careful detail. There will be photos and detailed descriptions. I just need to finish up here, and then get it all down off my dictation machine. It will likely be sometime tomorrow, as I am planning on working through the night on this one.”

  At last, Diana stopped for breath, and gave Dan another opportunity to speak.

  “Do we have any eye witnesses? Were all of the guests on this floor killed?”, Dan thought he should get in all of his questions in one go, given it may be some time before Diana allowed him to speak again, so he continued, “Is there any helpful evidence?”

  “No, they were all dead when the discovery was made. Apparently, the fire brigade had rushed in, locating the alarm which had been triggered, and found this instead. Can you imagine? What a shock. From my initial inspections, I would venture that most of them would have died quickly. That’s one thing at least but it leaves you no one to talk to, I’m afraid. Unless you know a spiritualist of course, my dear?”

  Diana gave another little laugh but noticed the serious look on Dan’s face, and so she went on to provide some more answers, “There is very little forensic evidence that we can see so far but, of course, it is early days and we will have to cross-check the DNA against samples from all of the victims and hotel staff, not to mention previous guests. I did find some small pieces of steel from the insides of our Romeo here, and have sent it off for examination. It might be nothing but I suspect it came from the killer’s weapon. Unless he is a sword swallower, of course!”

  Diana placed her hands in the small of her spine and leant back, with a loud crack, she sighed in relief, and carried on, “Sorry about that. Too much bending over, and not in a good way.” Another chortle, but she did not pause, “Realistically, given the high occupancy of this place, there are going to be thousands of differing prints, and we don’t expect to find anything; it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Our best chance will come from checking over the bodies to see what else, if anything, we can find.”

  Dan was not a defeatist but it seemed highly unlikely that the forensic investigation would help them to catch Pulcinella. This killer was meticulously careful, leaving no useful trace at any of the previous scenes, and it seemed like this one would be no different. Of course, they had to check, and they might get a lucky break. Maybe that piece of steel would prove useful. Perhaps the surveillance footage would reveal something. Dan doubted it, but held on to a thread of hope.

  “Oh, and I expect you have already seen the sermon written in blood? On the wall outside room 1514?” Diana could tell from Dan’s face that he had not yet seen it, “Well, I guess that’s your next port of call Dan. I had better get on here in any event. I will make sure to let you know immediately if I find anything significant, otherwise my full report will be with you soon, but not today. You should get some rest, you know. You look tired, what with those dark shadows hanging under your pretty eyes. Either that, Dan, or you have a side-line in boxing.” Diana looked him up and down, chuckling cheerily at the absurdity of the suggestion, and turne
d back to her work.

  “Ok, well thanks Diana. I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow. I will leave my card for you, just by your bag. Call me anytime.”

  “Uh-huh. Bye Dan,” Diana said, giving a brief wave of her hand, with her back to him. Dan had clearly been dismissed, so he moved on.

  As promised, Dan found Pulcinella’s next message outside room 1514. How could he have missed it before? He had walked right past here. And then he remembered he had been talking to Luke at the time, and sending him on his way. Dan chided himself. He needed to maintain his focus.

  Dan framed the bloody words in the screen of his phone, and took a picture. He could analyse the words later with Luke, and immediately sent it by instant messenger to the rest of the team.

  The task force back at base received all of the same information which Dan was privy too. It was an impressive bunch of professionals, all with their own, differing expertise, coming together with the common aim of stopping Pulcinella; Dan and Luke were only one limb of this well-fed hydra.

  Dan took some comfort in the fact that their unit had also been unable to find any leads, so far. It suggested that any distraction from Luke had been minimal, and had not prevented him from missing anything. Overall, Luke’s support was a definite overall gain, at least as far as Dan was concerned.

  The team had not found any hidden meanings in the messages. Nor had they found any clues to the killer’s true identity; they only had the moniker ‘Pulcinella’. None of this was surprising to Dan. The messages were not meant to be riddles, rather warnings to the public at large. They had to be short and obvious to have maximum impact. This one was no different.