Identity Found

by Ray Green

  ‘Shut up, bitch,’ commanded the imposter, his face twisted with an evil intent which James had never seen before. ‘I’m about to explain to your boyfriend.’

  She did so, stifling a sob.

  ‘You see,’ he continued, ‘there was every chance that you might not see the news reports about the journalist’s killing or that, even if you did, you might not take the bait, so we needed a backup plan.

  ‘We knew that girl, Sylvia, who got in the way, back in Miami Beach, had a boyfriend – Kyle Richards – who seemed determined to track you two down, and we thought he might just have an angle which we – and the cops – had missed. I was picked, as the person in our network who most closely resembled him, physically, to monitor his movements, and be ready to impersonate him if the opportunity arose. Our research indicated that you, Juanita, had only met him once or twice and that your boyfriend had never met him at all. We figured that some minor plastic surgery and a beard should be enough to fool you, as long as I came along with full knowledge of the backstory. And … it worked. I’ve tracked his every movement for almost a whole year, and when he finally set off for New York City in a hurry, I figured he was on to something. I followed him up to the point where he led me to your hotel, and then I killed him. Maybe you didn’t pick up the fact that he’d already been dead for five days when his body was discovered.’

  This was too much for Juanita; she wrenched so hard against her restraints that her chair moved a full six inches or so across the floor. ‘You murdering swine,’ she shrieked. ‘How could you do that to an innocent guy who was just trying to find out why his girlfriend had died?’

  The man – whose real name had still not been revealed – shrugged. ‘Just a means to an end … nothing personal.’

  ‘Nothing personal?’ she screamed. ‘What could be more personal than murder?’

  He inclined his head, touching a forefinger to his chin as though considering this argument. ‘I will be very well paid,’ he eventually offered, as justification for his actions.

  She glared at him; in spite of her restraints, the fierceness in her eyes seemed momentarily to unsettle Kyle’s imposter.

  He quickly recovered his composure. ‘So now it seems that both plan “A” and plan “B” have worked, and we finally have you both.’ He glanced at The Scorpion, as though signalling that he’d finished recounting his part of the story.

  ‘So now we come to the end game,’ said the big man. He stepped past his two captives, moving into the gloom behind them, emerging a moment later holding a camcorder mounted on a tripod. He set it down facing the two of them, fussing with it until he was satisfied with the view. ‘Now, I think you know where this is going,’ he said. ‘As I said, my employers would like some video evidence of the pain you will suffer before you both die.’

  The fear, the whimpering, and sobbing which Juanita had previously exhibited had completely gone; she stared defiantly at the man who was about to torture and kill her. Even his smug, arrogant demeanour seemed to falter for a moment. The lapse didn’t last long, though.

  ‘I always make a point of never letting anyone who has seen my face when … well, when I’m acting in a professional capacity, so to speak, live to tell the tale, so rest assured your pain and suffering will eventually end.’

  Suddenly, he whirled around, with a turn of speed improbable for such a big man, to face the man they knew as Kyle. The expression on the man’s face changed, in a split second, as the realisation of what was happening hit home. But he was too slow. Phut; the impact of the bullet punched him backward, and his gun spun from his hand, making a loud clattering sound as it hit the floor. His hands flew to the wound in his chest as he staggered unsteadily backward, trying to maintain his footing. He stayed on his feet for several seconds, astonishment written all over his face, before his knees finally buckled and he slid to the ground, gasping for breath.

  He tried to drag himself forward, his bloodied hand grasping for his weapon which lay on the floor just a few feet away, but The Scorpion walked calmly towards him and kicked the gun far out of his reach. The man rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath.

  ‘Wh-why?’ he croaked.

  The Scorpion did not answer his question; instead he addressed himself to James and Juanita. ‘Now, on this occasion, I don’t want to advertise who did this, so I won’t be using my trademark killing shot through the ear.’

  The man let out a pitiful whimper as The Scorpion stood over him and took aim. Phut; a neat, round hole appeared in the centre of the man’s forehead, blood spurting freely from the wound.

  This shocking turn of events, played out in mere seconds, reduced both James and Juanita to stunned silence.

  ‘Like I said,’ continued The Scorpion, locking eyes with James, ‘I never let any witnesses live to tell the tale … plus which, I can make this look as though you killed him before I overpowered you. Then I get to collect his fee as well as mine.’ His smile was one of pure evil. ‘And anyway, I never did like the jumped-up prick.’

  Chapter 44

  James knew now, if he didn’t before, that he was dealing with a sadistic psychopath. There seemed no hope of escape, but still he clung to the hope that if he could keep this man talking, something – any slim chance – might present itself. Maybe appealing to his inflated ego might delay things a little longer.

  ‘I can see why they chose you to bait the trap.’

  ‘Uh, huh?’ said the big man, pressing the ‘record’ button on the camera.

  ‘They must have known I’d think a top assassin like you would only be hired for a really important job.’

  ‘Oh, please … I’m not a top assassin, I’m the top assassin. Name me another – anywhere in the world – who can command higher fees.’

  ‘I can’t,’ admitted James.

  The Scorpion grunted his satisfaction at James’s reply before taking from his pocket a dark blue balaclava and pulling it over his head. ‘Like I said, I don’t want my face to become known, so this is for the benefit of the camera.’

  The conversational tone which this vicious killer adopted while casually explaining everything to them was completely incongruous, considering he was preparing to torture and kill them both in the minutes, or hours, to come.

  The man moved over to stand alongside the two of them. He laid his gun on the floor in order to leave both hands free while he lit another cigarette. ‘Now then,’ he said coaxing the tip of the cigarette to a bright glow, ‘who first? Eeny meeny miny moe … I think I’ll start with you, James. I’ve already had some fun with your girlfriend.’

  If James was going to make a move, he would have to act now; they were out of time. Although his hands were bound to the chair behind his back, his feet were just bound together and not to the chair. Could he perhaps spring to his feet and swing around to bring the chair crashing into his captor? Even if he could, though, unless he was lucky enough to render the man unconscious with that first blow, there would be nothing he could do to follow up the attack, firmly bound as he was. The chances of success were negligible, but with no other plan available, he tensed for action.

  The man took another deep draw on the cigarette, restoring its tip to a bright glow before bringing it within an inch of James’s lips. Now was the moment; with the gun out of the man’s grasp, he would never have a better chance. He tensed his leg muscles, ready for the strike.

  ‘Armed police!’ came an urgent shout from somewhere in the shadows behind them.

  The big man acted with astounding agility, diving for the floor and lunging for his gun. He wasn’t fast enough, though. The vicious phut of a silenced gunshot sounded before he could grab his own weapon, and he slumped to the floor. He had been struck in the chest, but the wound wasn’t fatal; he was still trying to drag himself towards his gun. Another man stepped out of the shadows: tall, slim but muscular, probably aged around thirty. He wasn’t wearing a police uniform. He walked up to the stricken figure on the floor and trapped the man’s wrist
under his shoe. He bent down and picked up the gun.

  ‘You guys alright?’ he said, glancing for a moment towards James and Juanita.

  ‘I am,’ said James, ‘but she needs medical attention; she’s been badly burned.’

  ‘OK, but I need to deal with this motherfucker first.’

  The wounded man was trying to drag himself to his knees, but the effort was too much, he shot the newcomer a furious stare before collapsing to the floor, rolling over onto his back. ‘Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?’

  ‘My name is Mark Bowman; I’m a detective with the NYPD.’

  ‘How did you find me?’ gasped the injured man.

  The other man did not answer the question; instead he responded with one of his own. ‘Remember Julia Turner?’

  The Scorpion’s took a couple of seconds before answering. ‘Julia Turner … you mean the journalist who …?’

  ‘Yeah … the woman you murdered in Central Park.’

  ‘What of her?’ growled The Scorpion.

  ‘I was going to propose to Julia Turner on the night you murdered her.’

  For the first time, James thought he could detect a glint of fear in the wounded man’s eyes. ‘You mean she was …?’ His voice tailed off.

  ‘Yeah, she was … got the picture now?’

  ‘How long have you been listening?’ said the stricken man, all the bravado gone from his voice now.

  ‘Long enough to know you treated the woman I loved like a dispensable piece of nothing. “Bait” was the term you used, wasn’t it?’

  The man held up his hand in a defensive gesture. ‘Look, I didn’t know that she was—’

  He was cut off mid-sentence as Mark Bowman shot him in the left kneecap.

  The man’s scream was ear-splitting. ‘Why the fuck did you do that?’ he gasped, grasping his shattered knee with both hands. ‘Just what kind of cop are you?’

  ‘The kind who’s lost the only woman he ever really loved; the kind who despises scum like you.’

  ‘OK … OK, I get it. But look, we can work something out here. I’m a very wealthy man; I could—’

  Mark Bowman shot him in the other kneecap. Another piercing scream rang out.

  The man was now reduced to a blubbering wreck. ‘P-please,’ he pleaded … I’ll do anything you ask.’

  ‘Then tell me this: why did you kill Mandy Jackson?’

  The man drew his eyebrows together in puzzlement. ‘Mandy who?’

  ‘The hairdresser.’

  ‘Oh yeah … well I found out she was helping the cops, and I well …’ His voice tailed off as he gasped for breath.

  ‘Spit it out you bastard!’ yelled Mark, placing his boot on one of the man’s shattered knees and grinding it forcefully down.

  The man screamed in agony. ‘Nooo … stop!’

  The newcomer relinquished the pressure on the ruined knee. ‘Gonna tell me then?’

  ‘I … I don’t like people who help the cops,’ gasped The Scorpion.

  ‘You killed her for no other reason than she was helping the police?’ said Mark, the incredulity clear in his voice.

  ‘Well, she might have helped them get to these two before I did. I mean …’ His voice tailed off as he registered the stony expression on Mark’s face.

  ‘You killed the woman I loved, and another who I was becoming quite fond of, when neither of them had done anything whatsoever wrong.’ He was silent for a second or two, his jaw tightly clenched as the blood rushed to his face, a vein in his temple visibly pulsing. ‘You absolute fucking bastard,’ he hissed.

  The terror in the man’s face, as Mark levelled his weapon once more, was palpable. ‘No … nooo … you can’t—’

  Mark pumped five shots into the man’s chest, still repeatedly pulling the trigger uselessly after the magazine was completely exhausted.

  He stood there, motionless, for several seconds, his chest heaving, staring at the bloodied corpse on the floor. James and Juanita were also struck dumb in the eerie silence which followed the preceding scene of violence and fury.

  Finally, this cop – if that’s what he really was – seemed to compose himself. He remained silent, though, as he reloaded his weapon, set the safety catch and returned it to its shoulder holster. Once that was done, he took from his pocket a penknife and approached Juanita.

  ‘Wh-what are you going to do,’ she stammered.

  ‘It’s OK, ma’am, I’m just going to cut through your bonds.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  It took just a few seconds to release her; she stood up, flexing her stiff leg muscles and rubbing her sore wrists ‘If you hadn’t turned up when you did, we’d both be …’ She stifled a sob.

  ‘It’s OK now,’ he soothed.

  He turned to James and cut through his bonds, too.

  ‘You really are a cop then?’ said James, trying to ignore the pain which had now reasserted itself in his badly skinned hands; in those critical moments when they were both facing death, he had not been conscious of the pain at all.

  ‘Uh, huh.’

  ‘How did you manage to track that bastard down?’

  ‘I didn’t … you were the one who tracked him down.’

  ‘But how did you know he’d be here?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ he repeated. I just followed the lady.’ He glanced at Juanita.

  ‘I … I don’t understand, how—?’

  Mark held up his hand. ‘Let me explain …’

  Chapter 45

  Mark recounted the whole story, leading up to the point where he finally tracked them to their hotel, but was interrupted by Mandy’s desperate emergency call before he could try to apprehend them.

  ‘I was too late to save her,’ he said, ‘so I headed right back to your hotel.’ He turned towards Juanita. ‘Just as I arrived, I saw you coming out of the main entrance with that guy’ – he nodded towards “Kyle’s” body – ‘right behind you. I could see immediately that you were leaving with him under duress: the way he held his arm under his coat meant he surely had you at gunpoint. With no idea, now, what the hell was going on, I decided to follow you both … and ended up here.’

  ‘But all the time, you thought it was me who had killed Julia,’ said Juanita, incredulous.

  He nodded, ‘From the moment you impersonated her non-existent sister to try to steal the autopsy report, that’s what I suspected. And then when you changed your hairstyle to help avoid detection … Finally, when you inveigled your way into the New York Times office to gain access to Julia’s papers and files … then I was sure, in my own mind.’

  ‘Seems all three of us had completely misread the situation,’ observed James. ‘We all thought she had been killed because of something she was investigating, and we all got it completely wrong.’

  ‘We sure did,’ said Mark.

  ‘I can’t believe I let myself be fooled by that animal impersonating Kyle,’ added Juanita, shaking her head.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ said James. ‘You had only met Kyle once, well over a year ago, and I do remember you saying you hardly recognised this guy when he first showed up at the hotel. But he was bloody convincing, and he knew all about Sylvia’s death in Miami. He’d have fooled anyone.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she whispered. She frowned, as another thought struck her. ‘But if he wanted to kill us both, why didn’t he make his move earlier … why did he go through the whole pantomime of helping us with an investigation which he knew full well was going nowhere?’

  James shrugged. ‘You heard what that other bastard said: they weren’t supposed to just kill us; they were instructed to make us suffer first … and even film it.’

  Juanita visibly shuddered, the colour draining from her face.

  James continued, ‘He could hardly have done that in the hotel: too messy and too risky. He was probably biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to lure us both to a remote location like this. Think about it: when I went to check out the apartment of those
two brothers who we suspected of being terrorists, it was probably the first time he was alone with you. He just seized the opportunity to force you to come here, and then his psychotic partner used you to lure me here.’

  ‘I guess you’re right,’ murmured Juanita.

  ‘Can’t believe I fell for the trap they set,’ muttered James, ‘leaving that goods hoist down at ground level, just inviting me to climb up, while Kyle – or whatever his real name was – waited at the top for me.’

  ‘I guess we all made mistakes,’ she said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

  James turned towards Mark. ‘How did you manage to get in unobserved?’

  ‘Once they had captured you, they weren’t expecting anyone else to show up; I was able to slip in right through the main door and then melt into the shadows around the edge of the building.’

  ‘So, you saw and heard more or less everything then.’

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  ‘So, you know why these two were after us, said James. ‘What happens now?’

  An awkward silence ensued, Juanita now fearing that although they had cheated death that day, they would now be facing the long-dreaded encounter with the authorities in Miami.

  ‘Look,’ said Mark, ‘I don’t know anything about this shit that went down in Miami, but any good cop would be duty bound to take you both in for questioning about it.’

  ‘I guess,’ said James, his tone despondent.

  ‘But any good cop would also have tried to take that bastard alive.’ He hung his head for a few moments. ‘I’m not a good cop … not anymore. Ever since Julia was murdered, all I’ve been able to think about is avenging her death. I knew that if I managed to track down her murderer, there was no way I’d give him – or her – any chance of some smartass lawyer getting the case thrown out.’

  ‘So you always intended to kill him if you found him?’ breathed Juanita.

  He didn’t answer the question directly. ‘I wasn’t even supposed to be working on Julia’s murder – “too emotionally involved”, they said. Damn right I was,’ he muttered. ‘If they found out I’d disobeyed orders and followed up the case, and then killed the bastard without giving him the chance of a trial, I’d be the one facing a murder charge.’