Sacrifice

by Jay Nadal

  Supported by several other officers and a dog handler, a sense of urgency weighed on his mind. The group’s walk became a run as Abby picked up the pace and charged ahead to support Mike. Scott drew large lungfuls of air to keep up with Abby. Darkness and unfamiliarity hampered the trail into the forest. Scott stumbled, his arms wheeling for balance under cover of the oppressive blackness. Small sounds of rustling bushes rang out around them as startled nocturnal animals raced for safety. Unsure of their footing, beams of light from their torches criss-crossed ahead of them.

  Hope came at last as a broad finger of light beamed down to the ground from the powerful searchlight of NPAS 15 that guided them to the location. A thirty million candlepower beam lit up the ground. The chopping sound of the helicopter blades cut through the air as it whirred overhead.

  Scott could hear the heavy panting of the K9 as it strained on the long lead. They weaved through the trees. The blackness nurtured a sense of claustrophobia inside him even though the woods stretched unbroken for miles. The knotted roots crossing over the narrow path they followed made it uneven and treacherous. Low-hanging branches forced them to duck at intervals.

  Up ahead, the first signs of light gave them hope. Daniel’s chanting melted into the background as the whirring helicopter blades, the K9 barking, and officers shouting created a cacophony of sound.

  Daniel panicked as he glanced in all directions. They were closing in on him. He rose and darted off into the darkness. His departure came to a premature end when they released the K9. The dog made light work of covering the thirty to forty yards as it hunted down its suspect. A yelp and scream, followed by, “Get it off me! Help!” confirmed his capture.

  Within minutes, officers flooded the clearing, as more sirens wailed in the distance.

  “Mike, talk to me, mate. Mike!” Scott shook Mike’s shoulder to raise him. His colleague and friend could only manage an anguished groan as the effects of the substance still rendered him incapacitated.

  “Ambulance is on the way, Guv,” Abby screamed above the noise. “I’ve patted him down. There are no open wounds or blood loss. But his face is swollen. Drugged?”

  “Looks like it. There are no facial or head wounds. And he’s drifting in and out. He’s alive, and that’s the main thing.”

  “Mike isn’t exactly a small chap, so how was he overpowered?”

  “We’ll find out once he’s been taken to the hospital.”

  37

  “Guv, this is Doctor Murray, a psychiatrist from the Royal Sussex County Hospital. He’s checked Daniel Johnson over.”

  Scott shook Doctor Murray’s hand before leaning against the wall outside the interview room. “So, is he fit for the interview?”

  Doctor Murray, dressed in grey trousers, white shirt, and a check jacket, referred to his notes. “In my opinion, yes. Willing to talk, lucid, requested a solicitor. You may find it hard to gain his full cooperation. He’ll be preoccupied with secrecy and order. He’s a fantasist, wrapped up in his own world, where his thoughts are logical as far as he is concerned.”

  Daniel Johnson was an odd-looking character. He had what many would refer to as a bowl haircut, his brown hair untidy and greasy. As Scott stared at him, he couldn’t help but notice how Daniel’s eyes seem to be much closer to the centre of his face. It made him look cross-eyed. He had a wide face which sharpened to a pointed jaw and seemed to hold a permanent scowl.

  Abby did the introductions, and cautions for the tape. Daniel sat alongside the duty solicitor. The same rotund, po-faced man that had been present in other cases.

  “Daniel, were you responsible for the body parts that were discovered in your room and in the shed?”

  Daniel’s eyes flickered between Scott and Abby’s before he confirmed that he had captured, killed, and dissected more than twenty animals ranging from birds to household pets. Abby had found Samantha Huxtable’s animal abductor.

  “Why did you do it?” Scott asked.

  Daniel shrugged saying, “It’s always fascinated me. Different size animals have different sized organs. The little sparrow’s heart is no bigger than the size of a garden pea. The heart of a dog is just a little bigger than a tennis ball. It’s their texture, the warmth. Man, it’s weird,” he said with wide eyes.

  Daniel went into detail about the gruesome processes he carried out with the different animals that he caught. For some, he would cut off their heads and cut out their brains. Others he would slice down the abdomen, removing their vital organs before dissecting them. He enjoyed skinning animals the most. He went into detail, outlining the intricate processes that are needed to separate the skin in one piece from the underlying flesh, bone, and muscle.

  Abby made notes as she listened to Daniel talking in a matter-of-fact way as if he was talking to someone down at the pub. He showed no remorse, but an extreme fascination.

  Scott pushed a CCTV still image across the table, and tapped the photograph. “We believe the person in this picture is you, standing by the edge of Palace Pier.”

  Daniel stared hard at the picture, a smile breaking on his face. “It looks a bit like me, but I don’t think it is.”

  “You see, we think it is. The images that we’ve got show someone matching your description walking on to the pier with a carrier bag which appeared to be bulky. Ten minutes later we catch that same person leaving with no bag. We believe that you were responsible for dumping the arm of five-year-old Nathi Buhari in the water,” Scott surmised as he put a series of further stills on the table.

  Daniel’s eyes widened as he glared at two pictures of Nathi. The first depicted a young boy smiling, the second the crime scene where his body was found.

  “Not much of him left is there?”

  Daniel seemed engrossed with morbid curiosity at the crime scene. He tilted his head from side to side, gaining a better understanding of how the body lay.

  Scott looked out the corner of his eye towards Abby, who rolled hers as if to suggest “what a weirdo”. Scott changed tack. “Can you tell us about Pastor Mabunda?”

  Daniel shrugged. “He’s all right. He ran a club for the asylum seekers at the hall that me and my dad manage.”

  “That you manage? I thought it was just your dad?”

  He shook his head. “No, I helped my dad out quite a lot when I was around. Then I go camping, so he does a fair bit of it on his own.”

  “Did Pastor Mabunda ever do anything to make you believe that the children who attended the community centre could come to any harm?”

  “Nah, he’s too soft. He’s too jumpy and nervous.”

  Scott pushed further. “So, have you always been into stuff like witchcraft and voodoo?”

  “Sort of. I’ve always wondered what all the voodoo and occult stuff was like. I read a lot of stuff about it, like satanism, paganism.”

  “What do you know about sacrificial killings or ritual killings of humans?”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. Scott had hit on something that spiked Daniel’s interest.

  “Ritual killings carry a lot of weight, a lot of power. You can cast spells, both good and bad by sacrificing a human to the gods.”

  “And how did you come to hear about that?” Abby interjected.

  Daniel wasn’t focusing on either officer. His eyes penetrated through them and beyond, as if he’d entered a waking trance. “The Internet, books, lots of different places.”

  “Did anyone else teach you this?” Scott suggested.

  A smug grin broke across Daniel’s face. “He said you would be looking for him. But no one could ever catch him. He’s far too powerful. You blink and he’s gone.” Daniel accentuated the point by clicking his finger.

  “Who are you talking about, Daniel?”

  “You know exactly who I’m talking about. The other pastor. Pastor Xabi. The most dangerous man you’ll ever meet.” Daniel pointed his index finger in Scott’s direction.

  Daniel explained how he was introduced to Xabi when Pastor Mabunda ran the commun
ity centre group. He recalled the first occasion that Xabi turned up, and the terrified look on the faces of the asylum seekers. Many had only been in the country a few hours. “They were shitting themselves. I don’t know if it’s because of the way he looks. Because he looks like a fucking monster that’s been sheep-dipped in a vat of acid, or because of something else.” Daniel laughed as he reflected on his first impressions.

  “And what happened next?”

  “Well some of the newbies were summoned by him, and then they left. They got into a black van, and I never saw them again at the community centre.”

  “And you had no idea why he was taking them away?”

  “Not at the beginning. He saw me reading a book about the occult and all this voodoo shit. He asked me if I was interested in it. I said I was. Only then did I find out about him being a witch doctor back in South Africa. Man, I tell you, from that point onwards, I just begged him to tell me as much as he could about what he did. At first, he told me to fuck off.” Daniel shrugged and laughed.

  “I think he was suspicious, too. But after a couple of days of getting on his case, he finally told me a few things. The more he told me, the more I wanted to know. It just took over me. I dunno, it felt like he put a spell on me or something. I couldn’t get enough of the shit he was doing. I looked for anything I could online about witch doctors. I think he liked that.”

  “So did you witness Pastor Xabi conducting any of these rituals?”

  There was an uncomfortable pause whilst Daniel played with the skin around his fingers. His solicitor had remained silent throughout the whole interview on Daniel’s wishes. “Yeah. I saw him kill the first boy.”

  Abby retrieved a picture of Michael Chauke from a brown folder and slid it across the table. “Was this the boy?”

  Daniel didn’t need to look at the picture too long. “Yes. I drove Xabi in my van to go and dump the boy’s body.”

  “We’ve got a record of you purchasing a red blanket from a camping store.” Scott pushed a copy of the purchase history across the table for Daniel to examine. “Can you confirm that you purchased this item?”

  Daniel nodded. “Yeah, Xabi used it to wrap the boy’s body.”

  “We’ve got records of five children from the community missing. Two of the children have been killed. Do you know what happened to the second victim?” Scott put forward two pictures of six-year-old Nathi Buhari. Scott and Abby noticed Daniel’s face redden as his eyes bore down on the second picture, transfixed by the headless body. “Daniel?”

  Daniel stared up towards the ceiling. “I earned my stripes. I convinced Xabi that I was ready. He had taught me the right way to conduct what he called a muti killing. He’s done tons of them back in South Africa. He taught me how to prepare, what to say, and how to do it. This little boy…” Daniel said, staring at the photograph, “was my offering to the gods. Amandla avela empilweni entsha,” he recited. “Power comes from new life.”

  “And what about the other three?” A knock on the door interrupted Abby’s question. Helen poked her head in, and signalled for Scott to step out. Abby confirmed for the tape recorder that the interview had been suspended and that Scott was leaving the room.

  “Not the best timing, Helen, what’s up?”

  “Guv, there’s gentleman in reception insisting that he needs to talk to you. Stephen, Woodman’s butler.”

  Scott scratched his hair. They had reached a crucial point interviewing Daniel, but he needed to hear what Stephen had to say.

  “Helen, you go back in and get Abby to finish off the interview. We need to find out where the other three children are, and Xabi’s whereabouts. I’ll go and see what Stephen has to say. I don’t want him kept waiting, in case he has second thoughts and disappears.”

  38

  The window in which Scott had to work appeared to be fast disappearing. They had twenty-four hours to build a case against Daniel, and get it across to CPS in order to charge him. The team were already working flat out, and with Mike still in hospital being checked over, he could foresee the rest of the team working through the night.

  In reception, Scott greeted a frail-looking Stephen. Worry lines etched his forehead, and his eyes looked dark and weary. He looked a sullen, broken character, who shifted nervously on the spot as Scott shook his hand. “Stephen, thank you for coming in. Would you like to come this way?” Scott showed him to an open door just off the main reception.

  He allowed Stephen to settle and feel comfortable in his surroundings. A member of the civilian staff came in with two cups of tea. Scott would have preferred a double espresso shot as his body craved some wake-up juice to fight off the fatigue that was taking over.

  “I…I need to tell you something, Inspector. I’m not supposed to be here in this country. I am an illegal citizen, and I am being held here illegally.”

  Scott’s eyes widened at the revelation. “So, let me be clear, were you brought into this country illegally, or did you make your own way here illegally?”

  Stephen glanced at his tea, and watched steam swirls pirouette. “I was brought here illegally as a gift for Alistair Woodman, as his private slave. But he tells everyone that I am his butler. I need your help, Inspector. I need to escape.”

  “We take human trafficking very seriously, Stephen. And we will do everything within our power to make sure that you’re okay.”

  Stephen nodded, gratitude washing in his eyes as they moistened. A trembling hand brought his tea to his lips. He took a few gentle sips to soothe his dry throat.

  “Mr Woodman is a very dangerous and angry man. He scares me. He has a lot of power, and knows many people.”

  Scott leant into the table. “Has Alistair Woodman ever been physically abusive towards you?”

  Stephen fell silent for a few moments before nodding.

  “And where is Mr Woodman now?”

  “He has been in London and will be arriving back soon. I need to go back quickly.”

  Scott nodded reassuringly. “I can get a car to take you back whenever you want to. However, you can choose not to go back. We can protect you.”

  Stephen shook his head dismissively. “I have something to tell you. I hear some of his business dealings on the phone. Pastor Xabi brought me here to Mr Woodman. Pastor Xabi promised me a new life with someone rich and famous.”

  Stephen’s information took Scott by surprise. He’d known that Stephen was troubled from the moment he met him. But Xabi’s involvement was completely unexpected. This put a whole new dimension to Scott’s investigation. He needed to know how Xabi was involved with Woodman.

  39

  Scott, Abby, and Helen reconvened around the incident board during the early hours of the morning. The station was quiet, nerves were frayed, and tiredness clouded their thinking. The smell of coffee wafted around them as they gulped down their second cups, hoping the caffeine would kick in. Late-night shifts like this were not uncommon. They had a small window of opportunity from the moment they apprehended a suspect. All officers in their situation would forfeit a social life, sleep, and even food, to ensure that everything was done by the book, and in time to press charges.

  Scott collapsed in a chair and ran his hands over his face. “How did the interview go?”

  Abby flipped open her pad. Sleep deprivation never seemed to bother her. Regardless of the time of day or night, she always appeared to be firing on all cylinders. Scott frequently thought she was a machine. “He confirmed that Xabi murdered, or in his words, sacrificed the three missing children. He drove Xabi out past Falmer where Xabi buried them in a pit.”

  The mood took an instant dive as Abby related the details to them. Any hope that there would be a silver lining to this case had been dashed in an instant. If there was one consolation, the families of those three children would have closure. Sometimes, the not knowing was harder to bear.

  “I’m organising a couple of search-trained officers to accompany Daniel. He will show us the exact location. Raj will acc
ompany the team.”

  Scott rested his head on the back of a chair, willing himself to stay awake. “I know what the psychiatrist said, but can we be absolutely certain Daniel Johnson is of sane mind, enough to stand trial?”

  “Well, we can certainly get him assessed again. He’s displaying psychopathic and sadistic tendencies. He sees nothing wrong in what he’s done. His life is built around fantasy and fascination. When I asked him why he did what he did to animals and then humans, his reply was calm and convincing.”

  Abby checked her notes before continuing.

  “He had to trap and kill animals whilst camping. He then built a curiosity as to whether the insides of an animal looked the same as those of a human. It seemed the perfect opportunity to him when he met Xabi.”

  “Nutter, springs to mind,” Helen commented.

  Abby agreed. “When he spoke about Nathi, it was matter-of-fact. He said that the boy bled out a bit and then he stopped. He asked me if I’d ever felt the human heartbeat in my hand. And how he said it just gave me the impression that he was completely engrossed and fascinated by the whole concept. He wouldn’t stop talking about how it’s the body’s most powerful muscle. And then he said he just wanted to see if they were the same on the inside.”

  “Inside?”

  “Yes, Guv. He wanted to know if black kids were the same on the inside as white kids.”

  Helen shook her head in consternation. “He’s proper fucked in the head.”

  A sense of collective agreement appeared to be the conclusion as they reflected on Daniel’s state of mind.

  “And he still maintains that he’s unaware of Xabi’s whereabouts?” Scott asked.

  “Yep. Xabi bought them a pair of pay as you go phones. Not traceable. That’s how he kept in touch with everyone. Daniel had to wait for Xabi’s call. No one could call Xabi.”