by A. S. French
He opened his mouth like a vampire rising from a coffin.
‘Officer Campbell will die. Olivia will die. All you’ve done is for nothing.’ Astrid rolled the letter opener between her fingers. ‘I’m not scared of death, Ms Snow: do your worst.’
She placed the blade next to her phone. ‘How did you convince Caitlin to kill the President?’
He wiped the spit from his lips. ‘A child’s mind is such a malleable thing. I learnt this at an early age when I observed my peers’ actions, seeing them fall under the influence of things they couldn’t control. I’m not talking about people: parents, teachers or other adults wielding authority, because that’s an obvious control built on age, experience and a physical presence. Most of that control over children comes through fear and the promise of punishment, both emotional and physical. No, I was fascinated by how outside influences could control people. Sex and drugs and alcohol are the obvious ones, but others surprised me. I loved to read from an early age, but some of my associates became addicted to particular authors or stories and tried to live their lives in their image.’ He shook his head as if trying to remove difficult parts of his past from his life. ‘Someone I knew a long time ago came to me in deep despair, so crestfallen I wondered who close to him had died, and do you know what he was so upset about?’
‘Enlighten me.’
His laugh turned his face into a Halloween pumpkin. ‘It was all over some movie.’ He wiped a tear from his eye. ‘I don’t watch such nonsense, but apparently, it was the last film in one long sequence of them, and someone changed the personalities and behaviours of his favourite characters. Not even killed them, but, according to him, they were as different from the other movies as night and day. He told me it was like losing his children. Can you imagine anything so stupid?’
‘People get obsessed with all kinds of things. You’re not immune to it, Benedict.’
‘This wasn’t an obsession; it was control. He’d become addicted to something not real, and it controlled every part of his life. It’s the same with all non-essential things in the world, such as music and art and sport. Weak people need these, become dependent on them to deflect from their dull existence. I soon realised I was not like them.’
‘What is it that drives you, then, Benedict?’ She had a good idea, but wanted to hear him say it.
‘To control others, of course. That’s the only thing that matters. Right from the dawn of mankind, that’s all it’s ever been about.’ She noticed his use of mankind instead of humanity. ‘It’s what fuels everything in life, Ms Snow, from governments to churches, schools to businesses, and everything in between.’
‘So you controlled Caitlin by threatening her kids.’
‘Oh my, no, it was nothing so vulgar. Cat had followed my every wish since she uttered her first word. She was much more agreeable than her sister.’
‘Her sister?’
‘Yes, your latest bed partner, Ms Snow.’
Realisation dawned on Astrid. ‘Rosie?’
‘Different mothers, of course, but the girls were quite similar until the age of seven. If you haven’t got them by then, there’s no point wasting any more time on them.’
‘You groomed her.’
He waved a wrinkled hand at her. ‘Don’t be so dramatic, Astrid. I did what all responsible parents do and guided Cat towards her ultimate goal, though none of us knew what that would be until a year ago.’
‘Parents, good, loving parents, don’t do that to their children.’
‘Oh, don’t be so naïve. I know she’s your niece, but don’t you want to do that with Olivia? I could see it in your eyes the night I brought you to the warehouse.’
‘I only want to protect her.’
‘It’s the same thing. You protect them by controlling their actions, even when they’re not children anymore.’
She’d thought at first he was spinning her a tale as a delaying tactic, waiting for his security to burst in and rescue him, but the more he spoke, the more she understood how fanatical he was. Rosie had said it was a hatred of anything perceived as liberal or democratic, of weakness, but it was more than that. It was sociopathy mixed with megalomania. He had a God complex that was unmatched by any fanatic she’d encountered before.
‘So why did Caitlin finally oppose your years of brainwashing?’
‘Her kids, of course. Jimmy was only supposed to put the fear of God into her, but the boy can overstep the mark sometimes.’
‘Did he know she was his half-sister?’
Sawyer’s face resembled a hyena ready to pounce. ‘Of course not, and neither did Rosie.’
‘Caitlin’s children were your grandchildren.’
He rubbed at the wrinkles on his chin. ‘It’s no matter. There’s plenty more where they came from.’ The cackle crawled over his lips and pained her ears.
‘You know Jimmy won’t be doing much of anything ever again.’
‘You put him in the hospital, Ms Snow. I’m aware of that.’
‘Did your people tell you what’s wrong with him?’
His eyes glazed over. ‘I didn’t ask. If the boy was foolish enough to be bested by you, he can lick his wounds until he returns to me with his tail between his legs.’
It was Astrid’s turn to laugh. ‘Your son won’t be licking anything for a long time, Benedict, and certainly not with his tail.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You look ancient, Sawyer, but you’re not; I checked your age online. You’re seventy-six. Looking at your family history, I’d guess you could easily live to a hundred. It’s not exactly a hard life, is it?’ She heard noises from the other side of the door, people talking. She figured they’d be working out what their orders were once they realised the Boss was in danger. ‘And Rosie told me you’re always planning three or four moves ahead, so I think at some point, probably when the hospital got in touch about your son, you considered a new contingency if this one went bust. I mean, how long have you been developing this little assassination attempt?’
He wheezed like a pneumatic drill. ‘Wheels have been in motion for longer than you’ve been alive, Ms Snow.’ There was pride in his voice.
‘That’s what I thought. It also makes me think you and whichever wealthy and privileged people you confide with have almost certainly got other revolutionary plans for this country of yours. So even when the FBI turns up here and you’re locked away for treason, you still might see them come to fruition, especially if I’m not wandering around the States anymore.’
‘Those things will happen regardless of you, Ms Snow. You hold no cards here.’
Astrid picked up her phone and found the file she wanted.
‘But that’s where you’re wrong, Sawyer. You may have spent most of your life mastering the politics of manipulation, but I’ve used mine studying the limits of human pain, both mentally and physically, on others and myself. When the hospital called about Jimmy, what did they say?’
‘They told me he’d been in a terrible accident, but he’d live.’
‘Did you talk to him?’
‘No; they had him sedated.’
Astrid pinched her lips and shook her head.
‘Jimmy will never speak again, Sawyer. And this is why.’ She showed him the phone and played the video. The sound was turned down slightly, so Jimmy Sawyer’s screams didn’t obscure her description. ‘I used the claw hammer to smash all his teeth first. I had to pull them out to make sure he didn’t choke on them. Then I crushed both sides of his jaw. Can you see here how easy it is to demolish bone with the correct amount of pressure?’ She held the screen closer to his face. ‘Next, I took a knife and sawed off both ears. They were quite big, so I had to hack at them.’ She placed her fingers on the side of his head. ‘Yours are fairly petite, so I expect they’ll come off in a jiffy. He was crying a lot by then, so I used the scissors to cut out his tongue. I had to ensure he didn’t suffocate.’
The camera twisted away to reveal the tools she’d used
.
‘Look at what he’d brought to his sister’s apartment. I assume he’d done this before because no inexperienced torturer takes a spoon with them.’ The screen changed back to Jimmy Sawyer writhing on the floor. ‘Can you guess what the professionals use the spoon for? No? Watch this, then.’
In the video, she reached into Jimmy’s face, using the spoon to scoop out one eyeball and then the other. All she’d focused on was how he’d threatened Olivia and killed the Cruz children, feeling no sympathy for him. Watching it again, she still didn’t.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Benedict; what a waste of human organs, right? But considering all the terrible things your son has seen and done, I don’t think anyone would have wanted those second-hand eyes.’ Astrid stopped the video. Sawyer’s face was like ash. ‘For good measure, I castrated him as well, but I doubt that’s needed for you. I’m guessing nature neutered you a long time ago.’
‘I’ll die if you do that to me.’ He tried to force a smile, but was unable.
‘No, that won’t happen, Benny. I’m an expert at this. I’ve had older and weaker people than you survive for many years after enjoying my delicate touch.’ She glanced around the room. ‘Though I don’t have such skilled tools to use on you, only those scissors and the letter opener.’
She held up the screen, showing the paused video and his son’s broken and barely recognisable face. She was contemplating her back-up plan when he agreed.
‘What do you want me to do, Ms Snow?’
The man she’d blinded whimpered in the corner.
‘Send all your men from the mansion and get Eleanor and Rosie in here. Remember, I’ll have a gun on the door at all times.’ She retrieved his bloody phone from the floor and pushed it next to his face as he made the call and issued her instructions. When he finished, she went to the window and watched the security troop out of the building.
‘Are you happy now, Ms Snow?’ She ignored his question.
Three minutes later, a knock came at the library door. Astrid held on to the gun as she strode to the entrance. She spoke from the side, out of the line of fire if anyone was foolish enough to try it.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s Rosie, Astrid. I’ve got Station to Station with me.’
That was the code they’d decided for the all-clear. She moved the furniture from the door and opened it. Campbell was in first, throwing her arms around Astrid’s neck and nearly knocking her over.
‘Thank God you’re okay.’
‘Are they all out of the house?’ Astrid said to Rosie over Campbell’s shoulder.
Rosie nodded. ‘We’re safe now.’ She glanced at her father. ‘But it won’t be for long if we don’t have any proof of what he and his friends had planned.’
Benedict Sawyer glared at his daughter before snapping his head at Astrid.
‘You lied to me.’
She shrugged at him. ‘C’est la vie, Benny.’
Astrid pushed past him and the blind security guard slumped against the wall. Then she reached down to the dead guy and pulled the scissors from his neck. She turned back to Sawyer and wiped the blood from them on to the old man’s arm. Astrid smiled at him as she bent to the bottom of the desk and prised open the locked drawer.
Sawyer discovered one last vestige of protest. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘And yet I have.’
The wood cracked and she pulled the drawer open. She removed the contents and placed them on the desk.
Eleanor stood by her side. ‘What is that?’
Astrid grinned at Benedict Sawyer. ‘Hubris.’ She opened the box and found twenty or so tapes and a cassette player. ‘This is very 1970s, Benny, very Tricky Dicky.’ She took the player and checked it had batteries. Then she picked a tape at random and placed it into the machine.
Astrid turned to Rosie. ‘Do you want to do the honours?’
Rosie stepped forward and hit play. Benedict Sawyer’s voice jumped from the recording as he spoke to an unnamed Senator about the plans to assassinate the President.
Campbell let out a massive sigh. ‘I guess that’s the end of this conspiracy.’
‘Not quite.’ Astrid handed her Sawyer’s blood-stained phone. There was no time to console her over the deaths of her husband and Moore. ‘You need to ring the FBI. Tell them you’ve foiled an assassination attempt against the President and to cancel his trip here.’
Astrid moved from her as Eleanor made that call and returned to Sawyer.
‘So, what’s your best score on Fortnite?’
The police and the FBI arrived thirty minutes later. Astrid was reluctant to go outside until Eleanor vouched for them. She didn’t want to mention Robbie Campbell’s involvement in Benedict Sawyer’s plan to assassinate the President. But after Eleanor had explained the situation to the authorities and handed over the incriminating tapes, she took Astrid aside.
‘I’m sorry I never told you I was married.’
Astrid held on to her hand. ‘It doesn’t matter, Eleanor.’
They watched FBI agents bundle Benedict Sawyer into the back of a van while Rosie was taken to a police car.
Campbell gripped Astrid’s fingers.
‘We led separate lives, Robbie and me, but it doesn’t mean I’m not upset with what happened.’ She let go of Astrid and wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘I still cared for him.’
‘I know, Eleanor.’ She glanced at the van as it took Sawyer away. ‘At least you’ll get justice for his murder.’
And for Jim Moore, too.
They watched the police and the FBI take charge of the scene before Campbell drove them to the station, where Astrid gave the authorities her statement. Afterwards, as she sat outside the room where Jim Moore had interviewed her only a few days before, Eleanor strode towards her.
‘I have to admit I cheated.’
‘What?’ Astrid’s face rippled with surprise.
She showed Astrid the image on her phone. ‘I went online and Googled those clues you gave me and found whose grave in Rochester you’re going to visit.’
Astrid stared into the screen at the young woman with piercing eyes and the iconic jazz-age bob peering back at her from across the century. Many things had helped Astrid survive a terrible childhood, but it was the image and idea of Louise Brooks which fuelled her passion for a life where no one would control her anymore.
‘Well done, Eleanor.’
‘So what should I watch first? Pandora’s Box or Diary of a Lost Girl?’
Astrid’s silent laugh echoed inside her head. ‘It doesn’t matter; both will change you forever.’
Campbell left Astrid to speak to Chief Colt. While she sat, Astrid considered which flowers to buy for the grave.
About the Author
Andrew French lives amongst faded seaside glamour on the North East coast of England. He likes gin and cats but not together, new music and old movies, curry and ice cream. Slow bike rides and long walks to the pub are his usual exercise, as well as flicking through the pages of good books and the memoirs of bad people.
Find out more at www.andrewsfrench.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/A-S-French-Author-150145625006018
Twitter:
www.twitter.com/andrewfrench100
Instagram:
www.instagram.com/andrewfrench100
And replies to all his email at [email protected]
If you have the time, please leave a review at Amazon or Goodreads
Thank you!
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my wonderful wife for all her support and patience.
* * *
Lost in America edited by Alison Jack.
* * *
Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com