by David Evans
“I appreciate that, Ma’am,” Stahmer replied.
“So, is it back to the Health and Safety Executive? May seem a little boring after this,” the Queen inquired.
“Not right away, Ma’am. It’s my tenth wedding anniversary next week, and we are going on a cruise in the Caribbean.”
Chapter Five
Sebastian had resorted to wearing wigs, expensive wigs, most people never gave it a second glance. The small fortune Sebastian invested made the wigs look like natural hair. To the more discerning and trained in the art of hairdressing, it was apparent they were artificial. He had no hair around his crotch, under his arms, or on any skin surface. Instead, he had blotches and scars where the hair had once sprouted. Once the compulsion could no longer be satisfied for the lack of body hair, he had moved on to stealing cats, removing their hair as they squirmed, screeched, and spat out in pain. Then once he had satisfied his lust and hunger, he would typically choke the life out of the poor animal, before removing the ligatures and disposing of the carcass in the nearest disposal unit.
In the spring of 1992, Sebastian had an interview and audition with Danish Cruise Liners. He played various tracks from Lennon and McCartney, and sang a ballad from the musical Joseph, and played an outstanding rendition of Ravel’s Bolero. Even before he played American Pie, the panel had made their minds up. The panel consisted of two male entertainment managers and a female management representative. It was clear the interview panel thought the appearance of Sebastian strange. It was a warm, spring day, and nearly all the entertainers the panel had interviewed that day had come in T-shirts or summer dresses. Sebastian came wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and one interviewer remarked how his hair seemed strange. Another commented on the lack of eyebrows. What all the panel members did agree upon was that they thoroughly enjoyed the music and the singing.
The audition went well, as he expected, and within six weeks Sebastian had been offered the position of piano bar musician on the cruise ships the Danish Cruise Liners operated. Less than two weeks after the offer of employment, Sebastian boarded the daily Pan Am transatlantic flight to Heathrow terminal just outside London.
Sebastian had to attend a three-day induction course held at the Hyde Park Hotel. He did not mix with the other seven entertainers who participated at the same induction. One of the female performers was a dancer; an older male was a compere. Also present were five female musicians who had worked with orchestras around the world, and had now formed a group to play classical music in the dining rooms and atriums. Most tried to talk to Sebastian, but his replies were limited and unresponsive; they thought him extremely shy. Sebastian's demeanour was becoming a problem for the training manager. During the appraisal, she was dubious about Sebastian’s people skills, thinking that she would probably not let Sebastian pass through the induction. Inevitably, this would lead to the offer to play with Danish Cruise Liners being retracted. Sebastian realized after his assessor’s intervention that his interaction with the other entertainers might count against him, and he knew he had to do something to ensure he would be accepted.
On the final evening of the stay at the Hyde Park Hotel, and without notice or invitation, Sebastian sat down at the large, shining, white grand piano. He began playing a rendition of Rocket Man, the Elton John crowd-pleaser. At the end of the song, the genuine applause from the other entertainers and guests rang out loudly. Sebastian followed the rock classic by expertly delivering a rousing theme from Wagner’s Gotterdammerung. Finally, in utter contrast, he finished with Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl, before granting the audience an encore of music by John Mills. The reaction from the audience, and Sebastian’s change from introvert to extrovert when he got behind the grand piano, convinced the training manager to rethink her decision, and grant Sebastian an initial contract.
Again, Sebastian had pulled it off. He put it down to his favourite quote by Leo Tolstoy, the Russian author, and philosopher: ‘Music is the shorthand to the emotions.’ In short, music could make a grown man cry, or in this case, change the mind of a doubting Thomas.
The following afternoon, the group of artists, having all been told they had reached an acceptable level to work for Danish Cruise Liners, collected their luggage. The musical group returned to the airport to board a flight to Barcelona to join the ship Aquatic Adventure. Sebastian and the remaining two sped southwards by coach down to the docks at Southampton to meet his new ship, the Majesty of the Waves.
Before applying for a position at sea, Sebastian had thought hard and long about working on a cruise liner. He had considered several different options, but every time, he came back to cruising. Cruise ships would be the perfect platform for his musical skills, as well as offering an opportunity for him to go about his business, with little chance of detection. Cats no longer fulfilled his desires; he wanted more, much more. He wanted an adult experience like Geraldine, with the chance to satisfy his ever-present and demanding urges.
Sebastian knew that the perfect opportunity to indulge his idiosyncrasies and pleasures with minimum risk was across international borders, preferably in countries that lacked the facilities and expertise in the up-and-coming scientific breakthrough call DNA testing. Cruise ships passed through these areas every day.
The liner was undertaking a round-the-world trip from Southampton to Sydney. There would be short stops at Gibraltar, Cyprus, and the Red Sea port of Sharm El Sheikh, before moving on to Dubai. After an overnight stop in Dubai, the ship would be at sea for several days until it reached Phuket. The island was a holiday resort belonging to Thailand. Following an overnight stop, they would take the short hop down to Singapore and then to Sydney, Australia. On the return leg of the cruise, the ship would visit the South Pacific, visiting firstly New Zealand, later to Rarotonga, the most populous and beautiful island in the Cook Islands. The vessel would then travel onwards across the International Date Line and take in Cabo on the west coast of Mexico, before finally heading into the Port of Los Angeles. Sebastian was contracted to do the outward leg of the journey as far as Singapore. He would then have thirty-six hours of leisure in the area before flying home to San Diego for a short break before joining a ship in Miami.
The ship owners decided that entertainers would stay on board for a maximum of a month before being rotated to another liner, and rest periods every three months. This procedure ensured that the passengers received a variety of performers throughout the cruise. The most critical part for Sebastian was that he would then have thirty-six hours in Singapore before flying home.
During the cruise down to Singapore, Sebastian was playing seven nights a week, from 7:30-9:00 pm, and then 11:00 pm to 12:30 am. Occasionally, he would perform in the main lounge to back up the entertainers.
The ship had a gross tonnage of 101,500, and a length of 893 feet. It could cruise along at 21 knots, which equates to 24 miles per hour, and had accommodation for 2,750 passengers, with an average of two guests per room.
The ship had nine decks, with an atrium dissecting seven levels right through the centre. The second to top outer deck consisted of two bars, a bistro, a large swimming pool, three hot spas, and a multitude of deck chairs. Running through deck six was an avenue, an arcade of shops running aft from the atrium. Forward of the atrium on deck seven was the piano lounge, and this was to be Sebastian’s working area, with the odd appearance on the main theatre or variety bar as planned by the entertainment manager, who was treated like minor royalty, while the captain of the ship was the king.
Sebastian was quite amused at how the entertainers were treated compared to the other staff. All ships have a hierarchy of respect and treatment from peers and others. The ship’s officers, who dealt with sailing and engineering, came top of the tree. The crew captain came next, followed by the entertainers, then the chefs and waiting staff. The cabin boys and girls and laundry staff sat squarely at the bottom of the heap.
Sebastian received respect for his status as an artist, but behind the scenes some would sneer at his appeara
nce and attitude. He was one of the few who had a single-person cabin, a real perk when you considered that the waiters shared four to a cabin. The single cabin status displayed the entertainers’ standing in the pecking order.
The work was easy, and the temptations on offer were overwhelming. Sebastian could have had a multitude of older women guests; it was unbelievable how many middle-aged women would make it quite clear to Sebastian that they would appreciate a little more than Atlantic Crossing or Rockin’ Robin. The lip scar and strange hairdo did not seem to put these women off. Music was the key to emotion.
His scarred lip mattered little. To sleep with the excellent pianist was a priority for some of the guests. However, Sebastian was not interested in sex; he was involved in another type of pleasure, the extreme joy which comes from being in control, to have the power to give and to take away life.
Sebastian used his spare time each day to research and look for an excellent opportunity to satisfy his ever-present needs. He studied the route and destinations of the cruise carefully, and maps of the ports. He researched towns near the cruise terminals, as well as some further afield. The place to launch his first attack had to be far enough away from the cruise port. The police force had to be limited in professionalism and lacking new technology.
Almost immediately, this ruled out Singapore, as the police force had been trained by the British and had the latest technology as befitted a first-world nation.
However, while the Malaysians had also had training from the British, their force, due to economics, was not as efficient, nor did it have the technological advances that Singapore enjoyed. The Malaysian police force was concentrated in the principal cities, such as Kuala Lumpur, and had far less coverage in the outlying areas and islands.
Sebastian had reconciled himself to Malaysia. The target area needed to have sufficient escape routes. It would be easy to get to and from Singapore by train and be within sixteen hours of travelling time. The area had to be somewhat remote, and far enough away from the main conurbations with increased police presence. Sebastian had worked out that he had thirty-six hours from beginning to end so he could be on the flight home on Monday that the cruise line company had booked him on.
Everything pointed to the kampongs on the islands of Penang or Langkawi. However, Penang was a much shorter ferry ride, and it also had a connecting bridge from the mainland, so Penang it was.
Sebastian had decided to carry out his attack in one of the kampongs. He knew these villages of bamboo and corrugated iron huts had little in the way of security. Sebastian needed a kampong that was on the tourist route. Even though he had similar colouring to the locals, he had Eurasian tones and looks, and with his scar on his lip, he would stand out in an area devoid of tourists. He needed the district to have public transport. There was no possibility of hiring a motorbike or car, as they would require a paper trail, and Sebastian’s forgery skills were not up to that standard.
Although he was confident the police force had little training in the way of modern forensic science, he had decided not to leave any traces. He would have used a hair remover the day he left the ship, but none was required, as one had to have hair to remove it. Sebastian left the ship for his thirty-six-hour sabbatical before flying back to San Diego via Heathrow.
He had stood naked in his shower and spread soap and scrubbed vigorously with a scrubbing brush all over his body—under his arms, across his chest, around the pubic area, everywhere. After showering, he had inspected himself and was pleased with the outcome. He was sure the dead skin cells—which accumulate on all human beings and leave identifiable DNA traces when they fall invisibly—had been eradicated and had been washed away down the shower drain.
The day had come; the day he had waited for since Geraldine. Sebastian disembarked in Singapore. He had somehow managed to control his passions on the ship. Some of the men and women had beautiful locks of hair. What he wouldn’t have given to have been able to tear out some of those strands and to gorge himself on it, the screams of the victim just an added pleasure he fantasised about constantly.
Sebastian had taken the train from Singapore, travelling the twelve hours north, until he arrived at the ferry terminal at Butterworth. The ferry would take him off the mainland of Malaysia to Penang, and on to Georgetown on the island. The ferry was the first of the day, and most people would be coming the other way to the mainland, rather than going to the island at this time, so it was relatively quiet.
On arriving at the island, Sebastian then took what passed for a bus to the Batu Ferringhi. It was 5:30 am when he arrived at the central town bus station, which consisted of a couple of sheds with corrugated roofing.
The bus station had a busy outside café that began to service several locals who were having breakfast before going to work. He smelt damp foliage and the unmistakable aroma of fish, along with the acrid stench of sewage, intermingled with the aroma of spices.
On the map, the kampong, Batu Ferringhi, was just off the main street, and offset a couple of hundred yards south of the market on the opposite side.
The market side was very civilized. There were seating areas where the locals drank tea, and local traders were readying their stalls with a variety of live, dead, and inanimate objects to sell.
While the bus station and local market were not precisely what Sebastian would consider American or British standard, they looked comparatively modern after he veered off the main road and onto the tracks into the kampongs. The concrete of the twentieth century ebbed away with every footstep.
The particular kampong Sebastian had chosen was ideal. There was a main road running from the bridge at Gelugor north, as you entered the sub-tropical island to the small town of Batu Ferringhi. The town was on the tourist trail, due to its proximity to one of the best butterfly farms in Asia. There was also the snake temple, and the area had excellent beaches. The road was sporadically littered with tired Seventies-built hotels, along with a few later models.
The light of the morning that welcomed him when he arrived at the bus station struggled to penetrate the canopy of trees on the narrow paths leading to the kampong. Sebastian began to sweat; the heat of the early morning began to intensify. It had reached 28 degrees Celsius before most people in the area had set off to work.
Sebastian had to traverse deep monsoon drains by a small metal ramp among the dead foliage that was on the dried, baked mud track. He heard the melody of monkeys that inhabited the canopies above. Sebastian was now in the jungle, passable jungle with defined trails, but jungle nonetheless.
There was dense foliage that consisted of banana trees, palm trees, and aloe vera and sisal plants, with their sharp, pointed, rigid, needle-type leaves overhanging and impinging on the path. On more than one occasion, Sebastian was stabbed by one tropical plant or another.
The environment did worry Sebastian somewhat. For all his careful planning, he had not been in this type of situation before. His childhood memories differed from the tropical forests he remembered in Thailand. Maybe it was the foliage that gave rise to the overwhelmingly humid conditions. The heat and lack of light in the jungle area were not something he had thought about when planning this. When he entered this jungle, he began to think about other hazards that had not crossed his mind in the planning stage.
Several rhesus monkeys swung overhead and squawked in a threatening manner; they appeared to resent the intruder’s presence into their domain. Sebastian hoped the noise of the monkey’s chattering covered all the sound he was trying not to make.
The route to the kampong, although semi-lit by the rays of the sun that penetrated the canopy in sporadic areas, was cluttered with dead foliage, and the multitude of micro wildlife including beetle and ant varieties. Sebastian followed the electric and telephone wires, which seemed out of place. They did not belong, any more than he did in the area. The lines led him to the main area for the huts. Telegraph poles sat in between the dense foliage on either side of the little square in the centre of
the kampong. The early morning chorus from singing birds that jostled for space along the lines assisted in camouflaging the noise he made as he inched along the edges.
Sebastian began to sweat even more profusely, as the high temperature and humidity increased once he was off the main road and into the jungle. Due to the lack of hair on his body, the sweat ran in rivulets down his back, and cascaded in the crease of his buttocks and down his legs. Sebastian stopped when someone further down the track made a noise, and he sidestepped into the jungle a few steps, which was sufficient to hide. He stood behind a large, green banana tree, which had flowered with a deep, large red flower head and tiny bananas beside it. The brilliance of the colours was somewhat diminished by the smell of rotting foliage, and the sewage seeping through the green surroundings.
A young, athletic, and lithe-looking villager wearing a blue and red sarong passed along the track, unaware that only feet away hid the man who was planning his attack.
Sebastian emerged and closed in on the kampong. From observation on the perimeter of the kampong, and hidden in the dense green, he had sight of the only building not made of wood and corrugated metal sheets; it was the small, white Catholic church in the centre of the kampong. It was a remnant of another century, when missionaries had spread the wrath of God should the villagers not visit the church each Sunday, and each church occupied the primary position in the village.
As quietly as possible, Sebastian circumnavigated the kampong, looking for all possible escape routes and hidden snags such as drains or ruts in the mud. Monsoon season was still a month or so away, so the ground was hard and compacted away from the access routes, thus leaving access and egress routes that would leave no boot tracks, which was just how Sebastian had planned it.
Monkeys squawked, birds sang, dogs barked, and the noise of the multitude of crickets created a backdrop of routine, everyday sounds, that would not attract attention.