Beyond the Blood Streams

by Ben Oakley

  “This a clue?” she asked.

  “Background info on Doctor Clive Foster.”

  “Why does he look familiar?”

  “He was sitting in on the interview with you at the hospital. You kind of attacked him.”

  “No shit!” She stared closely at him but shook her head, “I don't recognise him. Why are you researching him?”

  “I'm researching anyone and everything that's connected to this whole thing.”

  “Find anything?”

  “Are you my partner now?”

  “You don't seem to have anyone else.”

  I thought back to Jess again, “I did have someone. She was murdered by the same person who took you.”

  My phone started ringing. I grabbed it off the side and saw it was the Holborn Police Station number. I put my finger to my lips and silently told Stansey to be quiet. She couldn't say a word, if anyone knew she was with me then it would be game over.

  I answered.

  “Harrison Lake?”

  “It's Salt, we have DNA confirmation on the smoke you brought in.”

  “You're up early. Tell me it's good news?”

  “He's a 29-year-old Londoner named Michael Drake. He appeared on our radar seven years ago when he was arrested for assaulting a woman in a nightclub. He was given a two year suspended sentence and we never heard of him again until now. He works over at the football club.”

  Then it hit me, “let me guess; the Pink Panthers?”

  “There's only one football club around here and it's the women's one. Yes it's the Pink Panthers and it worries me he's been working there after his previous convictions have come to light. Have you made a connection?”

  “Maybe. I have it on good knowledge that someone might have been watching Paine and I when we went into the tunnel. The suspect was wearing a cap which had Pink Panthers written on it.”

  “You were keeping this to yourself until when?”

  “I wasn't entirely sure if he was a suspect but I was gonna head there today.”

  “The game's on, Harrison. It's Saturday morning, Michael Drake has something to do with the early run-around at the club. Get over there, I'm sending the Two Bergs with patrol cars to look at a possible arrest.”

  “I'm there.”

  I looked at Stansey who was listening intently to the conversation. It suddenly occurred to me; what the hell was I going to do with her?

  “Anyone coming with me to Linden?” I said into the phone.

  “If Michael Drake is our guy then there's no need to go there but if he's not then you're alone. Other detectives and teams are following leads all over the city.”

  I put the phone to my chest and pressed hard, I looked over at Stansey and whispered to her, “don't say a word.”

  “Lake?” Salt pushed.

  “I'm here. Listen, I was just curious, was there any news on Stansey King?”

  “We've had nothing so far, she vanished from the cemetery and we've had zilch come in from CCTV regarding her appearance anywhere. Trust me on this, Lake, if she pops up again then you'll be the first to know. If you spot her then call it in immediately, she's not to be trusted.”

  I saw Stansey about to say something so I violently shook my head to stop her from saying anything.

  “Not to be trusted?”

  “Really, I have to explain to you why? She was found in your basement, naked and cut up like a sushi tray. If she did it to herself then she's potentially as dangerous as Michael Drake.”

  Stansey was struggling to bite her lip and she would have ruined everything if she spoke out loud.

  “I'm leaving in five minutes,” I said to Salt.

  He ended the call as swiftly as he had begun it. I leaned back to look more closely at Stansey. She was looking at me with confusion in her eyes.

  I had to solve this case, for Paine, for Jess and now for Stansey King. The poor girl had been thrust into something that linked to me somehow, and I was sure as hell going to find out what that was.

  “Honestly, I don't know what to do with you?” I said to her.

  “I can go with you.”

  “It's impossible, even if we changed your appearance, your face would still be recognisable. You're known to every officer in the Met. Maybe they're trying to find you to protect you from yourself or maybe you're a suspect and they haven't told me, I don't know. But putting you out there is risking yours and Detective Paine's life. And as much as I hate to admit it – I need you right now.”

  She looked around my work room and stood again to look at the map on the wall. “Where was the other Stansey King found?”

  “Second pin from the left.”

  She ran her right index finger along the canal on the map and cocked her head to the side. “Did you ever consider the possibility that someone living on the canal is the killer?”

  “Every time I look at it.”

  She turned to me, “let me help.”

  “I told you, you need to stay -” she cut me off.

  “- I know but what if I stayed here and helped you with the research side of things; the background info, the maps, the names, anything.”

  I suddenly had a concern about allowing her access to all my information and the research of Jennifer Cane's brother.

  “What do you study?” I asked.

  “Ancient history and philosophy.”

  “Okay,” I thought about a question to ask her. “If you could visit only one ancient site anywhere in the world, what would it be?”

  She answered with perfect pronunciation; “Teotihuacan, Mexico.”

  I raised my eyebrows with a pleasant surprise. “Which is larger; Pyramid of the Moon or Pyramid of the Sun?”

  “Sun, at 22 metres higher than the moon.”

  “That's good. You're telling the truth aren't you?”

  “I always have been.”

  So I agreed to let her in and showed her what information was coming my way. I had to ask her explicitly to stay in the house, to flitter only between the kitchen, the upstairs toilet and the work room. She agreed and seemed eager to help.

  I had to believe there was no other way.

  I gave her my mobile number before locking the other research rooms. I was about to head out when a thought jumped back into my head. I walked back in and saw her working on the laptop surrounded by tons of research material. It reminded me of the time I'd taken in Jess and how I had saved her from a life of pain and anguish.

  It reminded me that the more we help others, the better we feel. And if we can do good things, then the world becomes just that little bit better all around.

  “Stansey?”

  She spun around and for a flash of a moment I thought Jess was there looking right at me.

  “Yeah?”

  I snapped back into the moment, “why did you go to Highgate Cemetery?”

  Her face suddenly dropped and she seemed to retreat into herself a little more. “My body told me to.”

  “You had a feeling to go there? I don't understand.”

  “No, my body told me to.” She stood and faced me before taking a deep breath. “He told me to follow my body.”

  “It's alright, whatever it is you can trust me.”

  “I know.”

  She removed the hoodie, threw it on the back of the seat and then started lifting her top. I almost told her to stop as I was unsure what she was doing. She lifted her top all the way to her neckline exposing her naked chest and stomach.

  Words had been cut into her with a razor or sharp knife. It started on her breasts and extended downwards to just above her hips.

  GO TO

  HIGHGATE

  CEMETERY

  “Oh my god,” I said. It was a term I rarely used. “That's why you wouldn't let the nurses near you.”

  She dropped her top and nodded at me, “go and get this bastard.”

  Thirty Seven

  I hadn't realised the Women's Football Club was only a few hundred metres away from The Rib
nik bar. I had walked past it many times but never really paid attention to it, not even noticing they were nicknamed the Pink Panthers. I would have time to castigate myself later.

  I reasoned my lack of knowledge surrounding it because I never really followed sports at all, especially not local ones, as much as I should have done. I watched some international sporting events, just like the next person, which I guess was deemed acceptable enough.

  Stansey had shocked me yet again with the words carved into her chest and I should have realised sooner. I vaguely remembered seeing some of the cuts looking like words when I'd first seen her but I was too overwhelmed with the situation at the time to comprehend it. Yet, it meant this guy had planned things from the beginning and it worried me how I was involved in it.

  I walked along the roadside of the football club and saw a group of young girls in early morning training. It had just gone seven in the morning so it wasn't too early. There was a nice crisp chill in the air which served to wake me up properly.

  I must have arrived quicker than expected as it was only a few minutes south from my house. I couldn't see the Two Bergs or any other patrol car. Did it really take that long for police to get somewhere in a hurry? What if this Michael Drake character ran off?

  I took a decision to walk past the club grounds and strolled another couple of hundred of metres to stand outside The Ribnik. Was it coincidence the bar was close to the football ground? I hoped it was, as this thing was getting deeper with every clue.

  The closed sign was still hanging in the window along with a written note that stated temporary closure. I put my hand on the front door and closed my eyes again.

  “Come on Jess, give me something,” I said.

  There was a numbness in my shoulder that extended all the way to my fingers and I struggled to maintain composure. There was a missing piece of my heart that had evaporated into the ether. It wasn't because of a missing love, it was for someone I took in and cared for, worried over and fought for, all at the same time.

  I hadn't shed a tear in years but I was close right then and it took an almighty effort to not break. The initial bite of the cold air had receded. I was dizzy and weak and felt the need to sit down. Instead, I put my other hand on the door, lowered my head to the ground and forcefully pushed myself off.

  There was an urge to kick the door through, walk in and pour myself a Guinness. Then I'd sit on my favourite barstool and wait for Jess to come back so we could talk about random shit until the Sun went down.

  A car shot past me on the roadside and I glanced across just in time to see it being driven by Detective Berg.

  “Shit!” I left the bar and jogged along the road to where he had just pulled in.

  Berg got out and saw me jogging, he couldn't help himself but smile. I didn't see Hallberg get out, in fact I didn't see anyone else in there. Berg acknowledged me in the only way he knew how.

  “Fuck me in the face with a wombat,” he said, “you look like you're hungover all to hell.”

  “It was a bad night. Where's Hallberg?”

  “Taking a week off, it's just me and the boys.”

  He pointed to the small spectator stands on the far side of the field. I noticed three men sitting together watching the early morning fitness drive.

  “Oh that doesn't look obvious. Where's the patrol cars?”

  “Two waiting adjacent to this road and one unmarked behind the stands. We don't wanna spook the bastard”

  “We think this is the guy then?” I said.

  Berg traipsed through the public side gate and I followed him, we walked as slowly as we could without making it too obvious. We moved around the edge of the sports field towards the group of girls and their instructor.

  Berg brought me up to speed, “the guy got so drunk in a club one time that he ended up snorting coke off a former stripper's stomach. Apparently he'd never done drugs before and it messed him right up. When he couldn't get any more, he attacked this girl in a drugged-up frenzy. She was lucky to have survived.”

  “How did he do it?”

  “Slashed her with a broken bottle and then beat the shit out of her with his fists. Dirty bastard was dragged away by security, didn't say a word to anyone.”

  “Are we sure it was the drugs?”

  “Guy didn't have a record before it, did his time, and haven't heard of him again until now. So yeah, I'm thinking it was cocaine. They just can't say no, can they.”

  “Why did he only get a suspended sentence?”

  “You don't give up do ya, seven in the bloody morning on a Saturday and I feel like I'm on Mastermind.”

  I shook my head slightly. Damn, I didn't need his bullshit now.

  “Forget it,” I said. Then pointed to the instructor who was egging the girls on to work harder, “is that him?”

  “Could be, looks the right age from here. He got a suspended sentence because his solicitor proved he was mentally unstable at the time of the attack and because of the influence of drugs. He didn't know what he had done. Alongside his sentence, he spent a month in -”

  I cut him off, “- let me guess; Linden Psychiatric Hospital.”

  He nodded then raised his eyebrows. It meant that Michael Drake would have had access to the hospital at one point and that spoke wonders about how he could have done it. I just needed to work out why.

  “You'd make a good detective if you weren't so drunk all the time,” Berg said.

  “You really think I'm hungover?”

  “You're not?”

  “I like a drink but I'm not drunk. It was a long night.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  As we approached the girls in training, the instructor caught our eye. Berg flashed his badge and beckoned him over. For a brief moment I thought he was going to run but he looked at us with confusion on his face. He shouted at the girls to run the lap which they did so with a little huffing and groaning. Then he walked towards us.

  His features were similar to the guy at the hospital and he was wearing a cap which had Pink Panthers emblazoned on the front. My nerves were sparking. Was this the guy?

  “Morning,” he said, “what can I do for ya?”

  Berg spoke first, “Michael Drake?”

  The man shook his head, “no, I'm John Singer, chief coach here.”

  “Do you know a Michael Drake?” I asked.

  “Yeah sure, he works the food hut in the corner over there.” He pointed to the other side of the field.

  “Is he there now?” Berg asked.

  “Bloody better be, these girls will need feeding at some point. Early start today ahead of the match tomorrow. What's this about? Is it serious?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” I said. “thank you for your time.”

  We strolled over the field, just as the girls completed their first lap. Berg got on the radio to the three plain-clothed officers in the small stands on the other side and physically pointed over to the food hut.

  It was more of a hot-dog van positioned just inside the crowd barrier. Though I couldn't imagine this place was ever full of people, there might have been a few hundred or so on any given day. Maybe more if there was a function in the clubhouse.

  I saw a man come out the side door and put a free-standing black board beside the van. He didn't seem to notice us at first but we began to move quicker towards him.

  He cracked his neck and adjusted his cap in the early morning sunshine. He looked to the skies before turning and stopping dead in his tracks as I caught his eye. We were about fifty metres apart when he simply stared at me – and then his eyes widened.

  “That's him,” I said.

  Just as I said it, Drake turned and charged away from the field, past the hot-dog van and disappeared behind the small stands.

  Berg was instantly on the radio, “we've got a runner, east side of the field. Come in from all angles and cut him off. It's only residential, he can't get far.”

  Berg ran off in the direction of the hot-dog va
n, in hot pursuit of the only solid suspect we had in the case. I stopped. Not because I was unfit or too tired to give chase but because I knew the area well enough to know where the roads led too.

  I turned and jogged off to the south-east corner of the field, towards a smaller gated exit. If he decided to go in that direction then I was going to cut him off.

  The gate was locked but only a metre high so it was easy to get over. I glanced back and saw the girls had stopped running. They were scattered all over the field watching their catering guy leg it from the police.

  It was only a matter of time until this whole thing went public.

  Thirty Eight

  I didn't hang around, I charged onto the roadside at the back of the training ground and looked up the street. Suddenly Berg ran across the road at the far end. He had some speed about him, I'll give him that. But it meant I had just missed Drake running across.

  I heard a car screech into view at the same location and saw an officer jumping out to follow Berg. I turned and jogged in the same direction but on the more southerly road, adjacent to their position.

  At the end of the street I was on, I caught sight of Camden Square, the former site of the neo-Gothic St. Paul's Church, which was levelled in the 1950s. It was now a small public park surrounded by railed fences. It was small enough that if you didn't know about it then you'd miss it and have no desire to go there.

  If I was Drake, I'd be headed there.

  I skidded to the end of the road, beside the gardens, and looked along the next street to catch sight of Berg and the officer. They were running off in the opposite direction, away from Camden Square. Maybe Drake wasn't headed to the park after all. Had I made a wrong decision?

  I didn't have to wait long for the answer. I saw Drake jump over a white wall from someone's small front garden. He didn't notice me as he glanced at the others who were running away from him. He charged across the road and into the park.

  I made my move by running into the south end of the park and hiding behind one of the large oak trees that dominated the greenery. I peered around it to see he was jogging slowly towards my location.