“Right you are, then.”
We watched the Volvo make a clumsy three-point turn and disappear back whence it came, then we pulled on our backpacks and proceeded onwards towards our destination, arriving less than ten minutes later. No vehicles had passed, and we were unobserved as we turned up the long track that led from the road to the front of the Upstart house. Due to the dense foliage on each side, it was not until we came within a dozen yards of the vicarage that we were able to find a suitable spot from which we could surreptitiously observe the entire breadth of the house. The curtains were open and the upstairs well lit, but we saw no movement from within. Both the Alfa Romeo and dirt bike were in situ on the driveway.
“There is a small blanket in each backpack,” whispered Urban-Smith. “I suggest we make ourselves comfortable for the duration.” We sat and stared at the house for several minutes before he leaned over to whisper in my ear once more. “I can barely fathom what Cain Upstart has done. It is abhorrent to me that a man could murder his own brother in such a methodical, calculated way. You have no siblings, do you, Rupert?”
“No,” I said, “but I do not need siblings in order to comprehend the vileness of his crime. I understand the value of loyalty and kinship as well as any man.”
What more was there to be said? All we could do was sit and wait for our quarry to reveal himself. Time crawled by like a lethargic snail, and when I checked my wristwatch, I was shocked to discover that it had barely reached nine o’clock. It felt like we had been camped out for hours, and I reflected that I had never enjoyed outdoor pursuits, even as a child, preferring the warmth and sanctity of my bedroom to the local parks and waste grounds that my peers and school friends insisted upon haunting at every available opportunity.
I sighed wearily, and was surprised to receive an elbow in the ribs in response.
“Shhh!” whispered Urban-Smith. “I hear something.”
I closed my eyes and held my breath for several seconds, but I could hear nothing out of place.
“Shhh!” The warning came again, and I stayed stock still, listening and waiting.
“Stand up, Rupert. Quiet as you like.” Urban-Smith pressed something metallic and firm into my hand. “Use the jemmy if you must. I have a mallet.”
It was then that I heard it; the slow but steady trudge, trudge, trudge of footsteps coming towards us through the undergrowth. I could not help myself; my mouth became as harsh as sackcloth, my hands perspired inside my gloves and my heart palpitated and shuddered so, that I believed any creature within a half-mile radius could have felt the vibration.
In my fevered state, my imagination was assailed with images of pointed teeth and matted fur, and it took every ounce of my resource not to flee into the night, gibbering and wailing for mercy. I felt weak and tremulous, and I reasoned that within a very few seconds, fear would render me incapable. And all the time, the footsteps grew nearer and nearer, and my ragged breath seemed to catch in my throat and threatened to choke the very sanity from me.
I begged silently to the gods of fate.
Save us.
Save us from this Hell.
◆◆◆
23. The Path Less Followed
Onwards the footsteps came.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
The interloper paused just a few yards south east of our position, hidden from our view by a dense thicket.
“Mr Urban-Smith?” The voice of a woman, speaking softly in the darkness. “Dr Harker? Are you there?”
Urban-Smith and I remained still and silent.
“Are you there?” repeated the newcomer. “It’s Kelly Worthy.”
“PC Worthy?” Urban-Smith stepped into view. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.
“Inspector Mallow sent me. He wanted me to make sure that you didn’t get into any trouble.”
“Really?” Urban-Smith was sceptical. “He seemed quite resolute that any activity on our part was to be without official sanction.”
“I’m off-duty, so officially I’m not here.”
“I understand,” said Urban-Smith. “Please join us. We are waiting for Cain Upstart to reveal himself.”
“Give me a minute,” she replied. “I promised I would text the Inspector when I arrived.”
Urban-Smith resumed his vigil at my side, and a minute later, PC Worthy joined us as well. She was dressed in dark jeans and thick jacket, with dark boots and a thick black woolly hat pulled down low over her scalp. The three of us watched the vicarage until, at around half past nine, the downstairs lights came on, and Cain Upstart could be seen moving to and fro between rooms. A few minutes later, the front door opened, and he stepped out into the night wearing blue jeans and a black leather jacket and boots. Slung about one shoulder was a light-coloured canvas sports bag, and he clutched a heavy-looking torch in his right hand. He stood briefly upon the threshold, gazing up towards the moon, before pulling the door closed and striding purposefully away towards the west side of the house and disappearing out of view around the corner.
We waited for a half a minute, then rose from our position and followed quietly. As we rounded the west side of the house, Urban-Smith in pole position with myself a few steps behind and PC Worthy bringing up the rear, we could see Cain Upstart’s torchlight swaying to and fro about fifty yards ahead of us. He was upon a wide dirt track that began at the rear (north) aspect of the property and led north by north-east towards the main body of Wottenham Wood. The track was broad enough for a car, and we followed carefully, unwilling to use our own lights for fear of being noticed.
There were a few low roots here and there, but by and large our progress was unimpeded as we followed Cain Upstart further along the track and deeper into the woods. The trees leant in from either side, reaching towards us with their thick limbs like beggars at a Calcutta marketplace, the spindly distal braches brushing at our heads and shoulders as we passed.
Upstart did not falter or pause on his journey, giving no indication that he was aware of our presence, but so fearsome was his reputation for violence that we dared not speak or even whisper, even though we outnumbered him three-to-one. We walked for about ten minutes, and I estimated we travelled a little under a half-mile, keeping to the edge of the track and about fifty yards behind our quarry until, all at once, the path turned sharply to the right, and Upstart disappeared from sight around the corner.
We reached the same bend a couple of minutes later and cautiously crept to the nearside tree line to observe. As we edged around the curve, harsh light bled out onto the path, and we retreated into the trees and pushed quietly through to survey the scene from the darkness.
The path continued to curve until it was almost leading back upon itself, and opened into a wide clearing illuminated by several floodlights. Thick black cable led from each floodlight into a nearby corrugated shed from within which the steady chug, chug, chug of a diesel-powered electrical generator issued.
Within the centre of the clearing, there stood three derelict caravans, arranged in parallel and with a soft glow visible at each window. At the farthest end of the clearing, Cain Upstart stood at the door to a large brick-built barn, unsheathing a heavy padlock from its bolt. He repeated the process with a second padlock and entered the barn, closing the door behind him.
Urban-Smith, PC Worthy and I crept across to the three caravans, but the door to each was secured with a combination padlock.
“This is where Upstart cultivates his crops,” whispered Urban-Smith. “The light which through yonder window breaks is undoubtedly provided by a fluorescent light to stimulate plant growth.”
Each caravan was at least five yards in length and about two-and-a-half yards wide; a total growing area of over thirty-five square yards, greater if the plants were arranged in more than one layer. A rugged cable led from the corrugated shed to a cream plastic box at the foot of the first caravan. From this box, three slimmer cables sprouted, one leading beneath each caravan.
Urban-Smith pressed his face to one of the windows.
“Curses!” he hissed. “There is some kind of film or tinting applied to the inside of the window that prevents me from seeing through.”
We made a brief excursion about the perimeter of each caravan, but each was equally secure, and every window impenetrable to inspection, so we retreated into the shadows and awaited Cain Upstart’s next appearance. Eventually, he emerged from the barn and hurried away across the clearing, back onto the dirt track and away around the corner, leaving the barn’s door open behind him. Urban-Smith scampered across and into the tree line on the west side of the clearing, then returned to us.
“He is heading back towards the house at quite a clip. We have but a few minutes. Hurry!”
The three of us sprinted to the barn and hastened inside. The barn was of sturdy stone construction, about fifteen by thirty feet, with a high ceiling (as is typical of such erections) supported by a quartet of wide vertical timber beams beneath a lattice of horizontal wooden struts. The floor at the rear of the barn was covered by a thick layer of hay, and a pile of rough blankets lay in one corner.
There was a pair of fluorescent overhead lights, and power sockets on two of the walls, courtesy of the diesel generator which continued to rumble away outside. A free-standing electric radiator was against the west wall, and against the east wall sat a chest freezer and a double cupboard unit with an industrial-sized microwave oven perched upon it. Further along the wall was a row of hooks, from which hung several full-length fur coats. A wooden ladder led to the hay loft above.
Urban-Smith performed a quick circuit of the barn’s perimeter. “The moment of truth is upon us,” he whispered excitedly. “We must secrete ourselves out of sight in the hay loft, so to discover what maleficence Cain Upstart is brewing within these walls.”
As he turned to lead the way, I heard the sound of a heavy blow, and Urban-Smith collapsed to the floor with a grunt. I turned to see what misfortune had befallen my friend and was aware of a swift movement to my side, followed by a sharp pain in the jaw and then blackness.
◆◆◆
24. A Worthy Adversary
I became dimly aware that I was sat with my legs outstretched and my hands behind my back. There was a dull throbbing in my jaw, and I felt nauseated and weak. I blinked several times and tried to rub my aching jaw, but my hands were secured behind my back, and I was too feeble to struggle against my bonds. There was a stout wooden post at my back, and I realised that I was tied to one of the quartet of sturdy vertical timbers which shored up the barn’s roof. I was facing the door of the barn, and by craning my neck I could see Urban-Smith secured behind me, his head lolling against his left shoulder and his legs stretched away towards the rear of the building.
There was movement at the periphery of my vision, and my anger rose at the indignity of my predicament.
“What the blazes…?” I spluttered. “Untie me this instant.”
Cain Upstart hove into view, but this was not the brooding, sullen Cain Upstart that I had met previously, nor the gloating, intimidating thug that others had painted him as. He looked stricken and remorseful, eyeing me with a sympathy that looked utterly foreign upon his hard features.
“I never meant for this to happen,” he muttered. “He shouldn’t have been able to get out. The whole area’s fenced off, you see. There are gaps every ten metres or so, enough for the muntjacs or badgers to get through, but not TeeJay. It was the storms; they brought one of the oaks down, bam! Right onto the fence, and he got out. I never meant for anyone else to get hurt.”
I was utterly perplexed. “Teejay?”
“Yeah, Teejay. I never liked the name Tripod Jack. Teejay, you see; as in Tee and Jay.”
I tried in vain to process this information, but he had moved out of my field of vision, and was rummaging in one of the cupboards at the back of the outbuilding.
“Tripod Jack?” I repeated. “Are you deluded? There is no Tripod Jack.”
“Oh, Teejay’s real, alright.” Upstart had reappeared holding a large tin and a tin opener. “You’ll see. He won’t be far. I’ve mended the fence, so he won’t get out again.” He squatted down and set to work upon the tin. “He’s well trained. When he hears the howl, he’ll know it’s dinner time.”
Cain Upstart stood and liberally dosed me and Urban-Smith with the contents of the tin.
“Hey, stop that!” I protested, but he continued until the can was empty.
“Calm down, Doc. It’s only chicken soup.”
“Chicken soup. Is Tripod Jack Jewish?”
“Very funny, but you won’t be laughing for long.” He flung the empty tin into the far corner of the barn.
“What have you done with PC Worthy?” I demanded.
He did not answer, but there was no need. PC Worthy appeared in the doorway.
“Are you ready, Cain?”
“You,” I gasped. “You are involved in this deceit?”
She shrugged. “I had my reasons.”
“What reason could you possibly have to assist in murder and perverting the course of justice?”
“Justice?” Even in the dim light, I could see her features change. Her brow furrowed, her fists clenched, and she stalked over with rage in her eyes. “Justice? Adam Upstart was a rapist and a pervert, and when Jenny reported him, she was called a liar. She was humiliated and made to feel like it was all her fault.” She drew her shoulders back haughtily. “Oh no. After all, who would believe that the vicar’s son could do anything so horrible. She was just another little scrubber from the estate, whereas Little Lord Upstart, butter wouldn’t melt, would it?” The tears flowed as she raged on. “But I believed her. I believed her because he had done the same to me. He tied me up and beat me and cut me and raped me, but I didn’t dare tell anyone. I was only sixteen. I couldn’t tell anyone. I felt disgusting; filthy, ashamed. I felt like a whore. When I heard that someone else had come forward, I thought that perhaps I could come forward too and tell my story. But I waited and I saw what they did to Jenny. It broke her, destroyed her completely. Do you know what happened to her?” She was bent almost double, screaming into my face. “She killed herself, that’s what. She took a load of tablets and jumped in the Manchester Ship Canal. All because of him! All because of Adam Upstart. And you want to talk to me about justice?”
I sat still through this tirade. PC Worthy was clearly losing all decorum, and I feared what she may do next. She straightened up and began pacing, and as she did so, I noticed a tugging at my wrists and swift powerful movements behind me.
“Keep her talking,” Urban-Smith whispered. “I need time to free myself from these cuffs.”
“If you have so little faith in our judicial system, why join the police?” I asked PC Worthy.
“Because I never want to be helpless again. Being a police officer gives me status and power. Power over Adam, and power over you.”
“And Cain?”
She stopped pacing and leered at me, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. She held out her hand, and Cain Upstart came to her. She leaned in closely and kissed him; long and lingering.
She licked her lips pointedly. “Cain’s ten times the man Adam ever was. It took everything I had to tell him what Adam did to me, but he didn’t hesitate. He promised that together we would make Adam pay, and we did. We made him scream and cry and beg for mercy, like he made me beg for mercy. And his screams were music to my ears.” The tears were falling again. “I’d never felt so happy as when I heard him cry. I whispered to him through the hole in the wall. I told him what was going to happen; that he was going to die, and nobody was going to help him. I told him that he was going to lay there in that cellar and die like a rat in a trap, and I was going to hurt him like he had hurt me. I pushed the needle into his foot, and he screamed and screamed. It was beautiful.”
“But surely,” I said, “surely you must have known that you would be caught?”
“How?” PC Worthy
threw her hands up. “Who could have fathomed it out? Not that oaf, Mallow, or that snob, Arsolé. They would never have caught us, but then who should arrive on the scene? None other than legendary detective, author and paranormal researcher and investigator, Fairfax Urban-Smith.” She shook her head and her nostrils flared. “No. As soon as you arrived, I knew there’d be trouble, but when I heard you talking with Mallow this morning, I realised that our chance had come; and you walked straight into our trap. Tomorrow morning, what’s left of you will be discovered by the Wottenham Road. Two more tragic victims of Tripod Jack.”
“Come on, Kelly.” Cain Upstart was becoming restless. “We don’t want to be here if he turns up early.”
With a snort, she turned on her heel and marched to the doorway and stood, tapping her foot impatiently. Cain Upstart was holding a portable CD player, and stooped to place it just within the doorway. As he did so, PC Kelly Worthy withdrew her policeman’s baton from the recesses of her jacket and struck him a vicious blow to the top of the head. Upstart fell to the floor and screamed, clutching his traumatised scalp, and PC Worthy delivered a sharp kick to the side of his head.
“Wh-wh-wh,” he mumbled and reached out a bloodied hand in my direction. PC Worthy stepped astride him to deliver two more blows with the baton until he finally lay still and quiet. He was hoisted by the legs, dragged to the rear of the barn, and left face down with his wrists handcuffed about one of the upright timber supports.
PC Worthy straightened up with a grunt. “Looks like there’ll be three for dinner tonight.”
“How could you do that?” I asked incredulously. “It was barely a minute ago that you were together in a passionate embrace.”
“I care about Cain, I really do,” she replied with an eerie calm, “but you forced my hand. When you returned here this morning, I knew that there was no hope of escape for Cain.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Well, I’d best be off. I’m due at the station to begin my shift in twenty minutes. I don’t want to be late for my own alibi.”
The Werewolf of Wottenham Wood Page 20