Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection

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Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection Page 43

by Adam Nicholls


  “You’re sick,” spat the woman on the other side of him.

  But Anarchy didn’t afford her a glance. The kid was too young to be in this situation—to suffer such trauma—but the woman? She should know better than to run her mouth when her life was on the line. “There’s no need for insults.”

  “But you are. You’re totally and utterly insane!”

  That got his head turning. “I’m not insane.”

  “Yes, you are!” the woman insisted.

  Anarchy had heard enough. Swinging the shotgun, he drove the butt into her stomach, making her curl up and wheeze. Her panting was a pleasant relief from the stream of overconfident insults. “Are you done?”

  Now the girl was whimpering again. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I don’t have a choice,” Anarchy told her. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  The wind picked up, sweeping across the water and howling at them as if trying to force them away. He glanced back up at the trees, where a figure emerged and came dashing toward the jetty.

  “Now, shut up. Your savior is here… and he’s right on time.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  When Mason arrived at the jetty, he dared not go any farther.

  “Mr. Black! Good of you to join us.”

  It was the man from the hospital, and it was definitely Anarchy. Mason would recognize those dark, mischievous eyes anywhere.

  “Even on such short notice, you still remain the Boy Scout.”

  Mason’s eyes were fixed on the girls at the end of the jetty. One was a young Asian, barely in her teens. The other, a grown woman with short hair and sleeve tattoos up her bare arms. They were both bound at the wrists, with some sort of metal object at their feet, which was linked to their ankles. “What is this?”

  “This”—Anarchy turned, keeping the shotgun aimed at Mason—“is another test. You got so lucky with that last one. I mean, it was only by luck your little girl didn’t take her seat. But still, your failure to get there on time meant all those other kids had to suffer.”

  How does he know when I arrived? Was he watching me somehow? Mason shook his head, raising the revolver to his adversary. “No. You did this. I had no part in it.”

  “Oh, spare me the technicalities. We each do what we need to do, Mr. Black. For instance, look at her.” Anarchy turned to the Asian girl. “Eleven years old, brought in from China to study at one of our great universities. Turns out she’s a genius, if you’d believe it.”

  “What’s your point?”

  Anarchy ignored him, turning to the other woman. “And this beautiful thing is a war hero. She served four tours in Iraq, the latter during which she risked her life to save her entire squad from a burning truck. Her reward? The Congressional Medal of Honor.”

  Mason felt his hands tremble, knowing it wasn’t just because of the icy breeze. His finger was brushing the trigger behind his back, but as much as he wanted to fire, he couldn’t risk the lives of these innocent people. “You’d better get to your point.”

  “So impatient.” Anarchy snorted before straightening his expression. “Okay, look. You can’t save them both, right? Thing is, you need to make a logical choice. Who would you go for first? The young girl who could go on to cure cancer? Or the war hero, who gave so much for her country? I know who I’d choose.”

  “Who cares who you’d choose?” Mason spat. “You need to stop this. Whatever your reason for all this, just let them go and do what you want with me.” Perhaps it was a dumb move, but it felt right to him—Mason revealed his gun and lowered it in surrender. “I’m not going to fight you. If it’s revenge you want, come and take it. If it’s to torture, punish, or kill someone for sport, then come and get what you need. Just let them go, and cut the bullshit.”

  While Anarchy gave a hard look of contemplation, Mason felt the full rush of adrenaline. The next few seconds could determine his life in one way or the other. He thought about Amy, who would have to endure the rest of her years without a father, and wondered if Diane would look out for her. He hoped so—and believed she would.

  “No,” Anarchy finally said. “You’re missing the point. I don’t want to hurt you—I respect you far too much for that. All I want is to understand what makes you tick. And to truly understand someone, I think you have to see them at their worst.” In a flash, he spun round and pushed both weights off the jetty.

  The girls screamed for only a second before the irons pulled them into the lake. Silence followed, until Mason’s feet hammered along the wooden planks, past Anarchy, and he dove headfirst into the water.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  It was instinct alone that led him to his choice. Mason kicked hard, swimming deeper under the surface and reaching through the murky water. He groped her shirt and tried to pull, but rather than lifting her up, he was pulling himself down.

  I hope the woman can hold her breath.

  Barely able to see, Mason was unfortunate enough to glimpse the young girl begging with her eyes for rescue. Even death seemed like it would be a mercy right now, but Mason wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t—not after he’d failed so many children in the past.

  Mason yanked at the chains with his free hand, pulling hard as air escaped his mouth in hundreds of small bubbles. It was no use. He had no idea if his gun would fire underwater—he’d heard off-putting stories about how that had backfired and blown the shooters’ hands off—but he at least had to try.

  Driving the gun into the weakest link of the chain, Mason pulled the trigger. Although he heard nothing, it was a relief to feel the chain slink open. The girl was losing consciousness. Mason grabbed her under the arms and kicked toward the surface.

  Up they went, air running short. They were five seconds from the surface.

  Four seconds, and his lungs felt tight.

  Two seconds, and he kicked as hard as he could.

  They broke the surface, each taking deep and desperate gasps of air. Mason paddled toward the jetty, scanning around for Anarchy, who’d vanished into the night. With all his strength, he hoisted the girl up onto the wood. “Are you all right?”

  The girl nodded, coughing.

  Good.

  But he wasn’t done yet.

  Mason dove back down for the woman. It wasn’t until he reached the bed of the lake that he found her. She was still alive, but how long for was uncertain. Mason pressed the barrel of the gun to the chains and fired.

  Nothing.

  He tried again, firing two, three shots, but no bullet came. His gun was as useless as the bullets inside it. Discarding the weapon, Mason grabbed the woman and pulled. He didn’t know what he hoped to achieve, but what else could he do?

  Feet sinking into the mud, he pushed harder with his legs, feeling the woman plead with urgency. She knew her life could end at any moment. Mason tried as hard as he could, but there was no lifting her. The weight of the iron was just too much.

  There came a sudden stillness—a peace that shouldn’t have been. The woman let go of his shirt, giving up. Mason imagined her face, frozen in an expression of panic, her eyes lifeless as the last of the bubbles escaped her mouth.

  I’ve failed.

  His heart broken, Mason swam toward the surface before he also drowned. All he could think about as he breached the surface and swam back toward the girl was how Anarchy had won. He had forced Mason to choose, and he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

  I’ve failed, he told himself again, climbing out of the icy water and rushing to the girl.

  Chapter Sixty

  Captain Cox had arrived within a half hour of Mason putting the phone down. She’d brought a team, and the Feds were on their way (although they weren’t wanted there). “You did the right thing.”

  Mason looked up from the motel’s security panel, taking his eyes off the screens for the first time since he’d sat down. “I’m not sure I know what’s right or wrong anymore.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Cox pulled out the s
pare desk chair, lifted up her legs to gain more flexibility, and sat, straddling it backward.

  “I mean, no matter what I do, someone winds up getting hurt. I take this case, someone is killed. I follow that lead, someone is killed. And in the center of it? Someone who blames me for something—and sometimes it’s even justified.”

  “Don’t you do that,” Cox snapped.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t you look for a way to justify their actions. This evil shit they’re doing is on them.” She looked over her shoulder, ensuring the room was empty. “Marvin Wendell was one twisted son of a bitch. He deserved to die. Right or wrong, you made that happen. And that sister of his? The same.”

  Mason turned back to the screen, resting one hand under his chin and the other on the computer mouse. “But Anarchy is—”

  “Anarchy is just as bad. No—worse. He deserves everything that’s coming to him, and believe me, something is coming to him. You just stay focused on the job.” Captain Cox cleared her throat. “And speaking of jobs, have you thought any more about my offer?”

  “Now’s not the time to—” Then he saw it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That’s the guy.” Mason pointed to the frozen still on the screen—a man climbing into a tow truck and driving out of the motel’s parking lot. His license plate was visible, even in the dark. “That’s Anarchy!”

  “You’re sure?” Cox touched the radio on her belt.

  “Certain.”

  “Then get your coat.”

  Mason pushed back the chair and shot to his feet. Following Cox out the door, he thanked the owner of the motel and prepared himself for a pursuit.

  “We need eyes in the sky,” Cox barked into her radio while storming out the building. “I want Team A in the car tailing the suspect, and Team B in the van. Mason, you’re with me.”

  “Good.” They had to act now, and he knew that. Although he suspected it could be a trap, Mason couldn’t leave any room for doubt. If he wanted to stop Anarchy, he would have to do it now, whether he was ready for it or not.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Mason was the first one into the police helicopter, adrenaline fueling him. He wanted more than anything to catch this sick son of a bitch and was determined to see it through.

  Captain Cox, who slumped in next to Mason, radioed to the cars on the ground, shouting above the roar of the propellers. “I want the ground teams to keep their distance. Let the target reach his destination. If we scare him off, we risk losing him forever.”

  It took only fifteen minutes in the sky to locate the target vehicle. The pilot, upon taking strict orders from the captain, kept out of sight but didn’t let the distance slip.

  Watching this, Mason knew something was wrong. This is too easy.

  “Don’t worry,” Cox said, noting Mason’s expression. “We’re going to get him. He won’t get away.”

  Mason wanted to believe it—he needed to believe it. But why was there something in the back of his mind telling him it just wasn’t going to happen? And even if it did, would it be entirely without consequence? There wasn’t a damn thing that had made sense about Anarchy so far, so why would it now?

  Sometime within the hour, Anarchy’s tow truck slipped down a long lane, surrounded by an abundance of trees on either side. At the end of the dirt road was a manor, dark and sinister in its discretion. Mason still couldn’t shake the feeling this whole thing felt way too good to be true.

  “All right,” Cox yelled into the microphone on the headset. “I want you to set us down over there and give me the coordinates.” She raised the radio to her mouth. “I want Team A to come pick us up.”

  “Roger,” a voice replied.

  They were lowered onto the uneven ground. Mason jumped out and turned back to offer his hand to Cox, who took it and climbed out. His trench coat flapped like a flag in the wind as they jogged toward the approaching police van. “Should we call the Feds?”

  Cox shook her head. “No. This is our arrest. We’ll get in touch when we’re about to breach, so it will look like we had to act fast.”

  “We did,” Mason said.

  “Exactly. We’ve been lucky, and I’m not letting the bureau mess this up.” The police van stopped beside them. They were barely inside with the door closed when they sped off toward the manor. “Are you armed?”

  Mason remembered his revolver at the bottom of the lake. His sidearm had felt like an extension of his own body in his line of work. And now it was gone. “No.”

  Cox handed him a Beretta. “If you’re sure you want in.”

  “I do.” Mason checked the magazine and slid it back into the gun. “I really do.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  It was a long stretch of road, but it was far from empty. Anarchy followed it at a reasonable pace, making sure the police helicopter had plenty of opportunity to keep up.

  Easy does it, little bird.

  So far, everything was going according to plan. His only regret was that he hadn’t been able to stick around to see what happened with the two girls at the lake. It was all well and good to test a man, but he sure would have loved to see the results—to get to know Mason a little bit better by knowing which one he’d let die.

  But there was a bigger endgame, and Anarchy had to keep reminding himself of this. The girls were nothing but a lure, and they had served their purpose well—the helicopter was tailing him, and there were probably cars, too.

  Almost there, now. Stay with me.

  Anarchy took the dirt path which led to the manor he’d managed to secure. The owners of the property had met an untimely end, though he’d had no interest in killing them—in fact, he’d had little interest in anyone since meeting Mason Black—but they had pushed him just a little too far.

  When he reached the manor, he looked up to the sky and caught a glimpse of the helicopter swerving out of sight. It was a nice attempt to remain unseen, but they’d failed. Lucky for them, Anarchy wanted to be followed. He wanted them to approach the house.

  It was all for the game, after all—the test, the big ultimatum. Who lived and who died would make no difference to him as long as he succeeded in making his point known. Mason would be the one to pay the price for this test, but it was all in the name of good sport… and a little amusement.

  Time was running out, and Anarchy ran inside the house to prepare. Here we go, he thought as he opened the front door and invited himself inside.

  The big test was about to begin.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  They approached through the trees, Cox leading the team with Mason at her side.

  Mason, already weighted down with nerves since his last encounter with Anarchy, gripped the gun as if it could slip from his hands at any moment. The building ahead was blanketed in darkness. There wasn’t a single window lit up—not so much as the flash of a TV screen. “I don’t like this,” he whispered.

  “That makes two of us.” Cox walked on, taking them out of the trees and onto the gravel. It crunched under their feet as they trod over it, making their presence obvious.

  “Should we split up and approach the building from different sides?” Mason asked. He’d feel a lot more comfortable with a team behind him, but if they were caught before they’d even reached the building, it would be over.

  Cox nodded, standing up straight. “We need to—”

  The interruption was blinding. Floodlights clunked on in sequence, from one end of the manor to the other, and lit up the property as if they were industrial grade.

  Mason shielded his eyes and turned around fast, but he was still seeing a flood of colors where the backs of his eyelids should have been.

  A nearby speaker screeched on, and then a deep, eerie voice spilled from it. “Welcome, Mason Black. What took you so long?”

  Cox glared at the team, who all looked to Mason, but his eyes were still adjusting to the brightness of the floodlights. He’d known something was wrong about this place, but he ha
dn’t expected… whatever this was. “What do you want?” he shouted, in no particular direction.

  “You, of course. Come to the front door, will ya?”

  Mason turned to face Captain Cox. “It’s a trap, right?”

  “Probably. Listen, you don’t have to—”

  Mason removed his coat, handed it to her—sweating profusely—and stormed toward the building. Mason was only stopped by the captain’s hand on his arm.

  “I’m going to find a way in, no matter what,” she whispered in his ear, before returning to the team.

  Mason believed her, too, as she’d never let him down in the past. Even when he’d been hunted by the police a year ago, she’d given him the benefit of the doubt.

  Mason finally reached the front door. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the handle and let himself in. The hallway was pitch-black. A grandfather clock clunked to his left, and the door slammed shut behind him. “Okay, I’m here.”

  “Good of you to come.” The speakers sounded like they were up the grand staircase in front of him. “I’ve prepared a series of trials. It won’t be easy, but it will be a true test of your character. Are you ready?”

  Mason, paying no mind to his certainty he was being watched, took a careful step forward and examined the hall. “And why should I? What’s in it for me?”

  “Because there’s a bomb in the building,” Anarchy said as if it was a simple fact. “And you’ll find it right next to Diane, Amy, and your detective friend. Five minutes is all you have.”

  “What?” Mason yelled, curling his hands into fists, his heart ready to burst from his chest. “You’re bluffing.”

  “No.”

  “Then show me.”

  “Nuh-uh. You’ll just have to take that chance.” There was a fluttering sound from the speaker, as if the signal was being interrupted. “Now, if you walk out the door you just came through, you have my word I’ll never bother you again. Your family will die, but you’ll be completely free.”

 

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