by S FEATES
''Are you ready to wholly give yourself over to God my boy?'' Hennessey moved his hand higher.
Harold was confused but in awe of the large man gently rubbing the inside of his leg. ''Yes Father, if that is God's will I'm ready.''
''Good lad. It won't be easy and, I cannot lie, it will not be without pain. But with agony comes ecstasy and ecstasy will bring you closer to God. Eventually, if God wills it, the pain will finally ease and only then will you experience the ecstasy. Praise the Lord!''
Harold was encouraged to take a few sips of whiskey, Holy water Hennessey called it, to calm his nerves and make him ready to receive God. The unpleasant, burning taste of the spirit made him wince. The following hours were a blur, he vaguely remembered having his clothing removed and a vision of the chaplain also naked. His strongest memories were of hot, whiskey smelling breath on his face as he was smothered with wet kisses and the dull pain down below as Hennessey forced himself on him, he had no memory of any ecstasy.
Later Father Hennessey ordered him never to reveal to anyone what had taken place. It was God's will that their work remained secret if it was to succeed. There was also the threat that if Harold spoke about it he would be condemned by God to die a terrible death and spend eternity in Hellfire. The young Harold was terrified and promised never to speak of their work.
''We must continue to do God's bidding Harold, we have something special now and we cannot let Him down or we shall be forever damned.''
And so it was Harold was regularly abused by the chaplain right up until he left school. He never spoke to his parents about his experiences. From boarding school Harold went to university, he entered into casual relationships with other male students as he found that female company held no attraction for him. The casual relationships didn't last long, he felt that there was something missing. As he grew older he realised that the only desire he had was for much younger boys. It was this desire which would guide him into a teaching career and into a life of paedophilia. At last he experienced ecstacy.
The images he had downloaded from the forum onto his laptop would be saved for his enjoyment later that evening over a bottle of wine. Harold logged off and shut down his laptop computer, it was nearly time to head out to the Scout hut. Locking the laptop in a bureau he went upstairs to change.
Harold Winterman had long ago stopped believing in God, he was no longer under the illusion that it was God's work he was doing. He did however feel the need to carry on giving succour and comfort to lonely, neglected boys just as he himself had been comforted. It was his duty. Public opinion and the law didn't share his vision but they were wrong. How could it be bad to comfort those in need, the ignored and abandoned. After all there were many in public life who felt the same. Celebrities, Judges, MP's and even some with Royal connections, all had been vilified and falsely accused of crimes against children and shamed as paedophiles.
Winterman had relished the opportunity of helping out with the troop, it gave him the chance to get close to the young boys. If he played his cards right he would get the chance to organise one of his weekend camping trips for a select group of the most eligible lads. Eligible meant for his own purposes not for any other reason. He had made a mental note of the ones who would be ideal for grooming and he was eager to start. It had been too long since he had fed his inner beast, the desire to feel the ecstasy was getting stronger.
I was chatting to Sylvie when my mobile rang. I didn't recognise the number so I answered it with a degree of caution. I needn't have worried as it turned out to be the Mortician ringing to introduce himself.
''Good afternoon Mr Black, my name is Howard Saltman. I hope you don't mind me calling you at this hour. I was given your number by a mutual acquaintance, Derek Williams, he said you might be interested in working as my assistant. I believe you have the necessary experience that I am looking for.'' Saltman had been living in England since 1975 but he had lost very little of his New England accent. He had a soothing, cultured voice that immediately put you at ease.
''Yes that's right I was expecting to hear from you at some stage and no it's not too late.'' I was eager to hear what he had to offer but had to get rid of Sylvie first. ''Bear with me one moment Mr Saltman.''
Sylvie took the hint and excused herself saying that she would catch up tomorrow. She had to go and feed Chrissie anyway. She blew me a kiss and left.
''Sorry about that Mr Saltman, I had company but they have gone now so we can talk freely.''
''Excellent, I don't like discussing business over open phone lines so I won't go into detail. Basically I am getting old Mr Black and it has been in the back of my mind to prepare for my retirement. I have no children or family to carry on my work and it is very difficult, if not impossible, to find a like minded individual who would be capable of taking over. You sir have answered my prayers. That is if you are willing to do it.''
I had no qualms about doing the work but I would need more information on the darker side of his trade before I committed. ''I am certainly interested Mr Saltman and please call me Steve. I would welcome the opportunity to discuss it with you face to face under more suitable conditions. Could we arrange to meet, I believe you are based in Oxford is that correct?.''
''That's great Steve and call me Howard. I do not live in Oxford anymore I relocated thirty odd years ago to Richmond in Surrey to be closer to my business associates. I believe you are living in Brentwood, Essex so perhaps we can meet somewhere in between, say off the M25 some place. Clacket Lane services near Sevenoaks would be convenient and about halfway.''
Easy enough to find and neutral territory. ''Good for me Howard. I have a bit of business to take care of before I can meet up so can you give me a few days?''
''No rush Steve, why don't we make it sometime next week, I trust that will give you enough time to conclude your business?''
''Absolutely, I have your number now so I will call you in a few days to set a date and time for next week.'' The pressure was off. We said our goodbyes and hung up.
I was free to concentrate on Harold Winterman and his imminent demise.
Before he left to go to the Scout hut Harold had received a phone call, it had left him in a euphoric state. The call had come from a gentleman who said that he had been given his number by a colleague. The colleague had attended the Blackstone School at the same time that Winterman was a master there and he had recommended him. The gentleman, named Edward Green, wanted advice regarding his ten year old son. The Greens had moved into the Enfield area only recently and although the boy was enrolled into a local school Mr Green wasn't sure whether to have him admitted as a boarder. The boy, Simon, was not a happy child he was shy and withdrawn and not happy at the thought of going to a new school. Mr Green was recently made a widower, he was the head of a multi-national company and didn't have the spare time to devote to his son. This was why he wanted to consider boarding. Mr Green had heard nothing but praise about the work Winterman had done with the boys at Blackstone's and he wondered if he could meet with him to discuss Simon. Perhaps there was an opportunity to get Simon interested in joining the Scout troop as a way of making friends. Mr Green wanted to call round late the next evening as that was the only time he had available before he left the country on business. Harold consented to the meeting straight away, he was already thinking two steps ahead. He gave Mr Green his address and said he would see him tomorrow.
Harold had not liked the attitude of Green he was typical of so many of the parents he encountered at the school, selfish and arrogant with no time for their children. Well he would give Simon the love and attention he deserved, he would take him under his wing and make a man of him.
9
I had everything I needed for my trip to Enfield that evening, it was all packed into a leather briefcase. I had spent a few days in Enfield observing Winterman and noting his routines. He went to the Scout hut for two hours every Wednesday before going to a local pub for a quick drink on the way home. He was always indoors
by ten every night and always alone. The street was fairly deserted after dark apart from the occasional late night dog walker. The street lights were spaced a fair distance apart and the areas in between were shrouded in darkness, Winterman's house was fortuitously situated right in the middle of two of them. When I telephoned him, from a public phone booth, I gave him no opportunity to fix a time and date of his own choosing for an appointment. My concocting a story of being an arrogant high flyer with little time to spare was perfect and the invention of the neglected son, Simon, was like dangling a fly over a trout stream, Winterman was hooked. I could imagine him salivating over the prospect of 'comforting' my fictitious son.
I parked a few houses down the street on the opposite side of the road. I didn't mind using my Ford Focus for this trip as I had already decided that I would be offloading it on Kevin when the job was done. The Audi Quattro would be my reward to myself to celebrate my good fortune.
Waiting until the road was clear of pedestrians I grabbed my briefcase and donning a trilby hat and leather gloves I locked the car and hurried along the road to the home of Harold Winterman. It was 9.30 in the evening.
My knock on the red front door was answered by a spritely, white haired old man in his late sixties. He introduced himself as Harold Winterman and invited me in. He offered me tea and we exchanged pleasantries while he made it. While he was busy in the kitchen I took the opportunity to remove a plastic bag and a length of rope from my case, I concealed them in the inside pocket of my overcoat. Winterman had offered to take my coat and gloves when he invited me in but I declined his offer. I was sitting in an easy chair when he came in with the tea.
''Glad you've made yourself comfortable,'' he said as he put the cup down next to me, ''tell me about your son. Simon wasn't it?'' He sat on a chair nearby.
I delivered a well practised speech about my non-existent son and even showed him a photo that I had printed off the internet. It had come from a holiday website and was a generic photo of a young boy in swimming trunks playing on a beach. Winterman studied the image for sometime before handing it back. I told him about the problems Simon had with making friends and how shy he was. Winterman had heard it all before and assured me that there was no boy out there who wouldn't benefit from his hands on approach. Simon would be a different boy in a short space of time if I gave him my consent to help him. How could I refuse, the man was a professional. I had finished my tea and asked if I could have a glass of water as I had to take a pill.
''Of course Mr Green, stay there and I will get it.'' He stood up and wandered off into the kitchen.
Seizing my opportunity I pulled out the plastic bag and went and stood behind the door to await his return. As he entered the room carrying the glass of water I stepped out and hooked the bag over his head pulling it tightly to cut off the air supply. The sudden movement made him drop the glass on the carpet spilling its contents into the pile. I held on tight as he struggled for breath, his hands were grabbing at my wrists in a vain attempt to dislodge the plastic bag. I was much stronger than the old man and it was soon over, he had wasted too much oxygen and energy trying to fight me. I dragged the limp body over to his armchair and sat him down. Stopping to catch my breath I surveyed the room to make sure nothing was disturbed during the struggle. Apart from the spilled water which would soon dry out there was nothing amiss, all was ok. Now to set the scene.
Williams, at my request, had made me a copy of the DVD that featured Winterman molesting two young boys, I took it out of my case and placed it on the side along with some graphic photos of boys. I needed to find the laptop that Winterman used, it had to be close by. After a thorough search the only place left was a bureau but it was locked, I needed that key. I searched through the deceased Winterman's pockets but came up empty handed so I went into the hall and went through his jackets. Bingo! the key was in the first one I checked. Opening the bureau I pulled out the laptop, plugged it into the mains and switched it on. There was a password required to enable me to log in, Williams had supplied this information on the A4 sheet he had given me. Once I entered it the desktop came alive. The desktop wallpaper was an image of a group of young lads dressed in swimwear posing for the camera, standing in the middle of the group was a younger looking Harold Winterman with his arms draped around the shoulders of two of the boys.
I didn't bother looking at any content on the laptop, I loaded the DVD into the tray and pushed it in. The autorun kicked in and the movie started playing, I paused it as I did not want to watch or hear the content while I prepared Winterman. I undid his trousers and pulled them and his pants down to below the knees, it was a struggle because of the dead weight but I managed. I noted that he was left handed as his wrist watch was on his right arm so I took his left hand and placed it between his legs with his fingers wrapped around his semi erect penis. His violent death had caused a phenomenon known as a priapism or post-mortem erection, common in men executed by hanging and also associated with sudden or violent death. This worked in my favour as it would lend credence to the belief that he was aroused by the DVD. I made a noose of the rope and looped it round his neck, over the top of the plastic bag, and pulled it tight. The other end of the rope I wound round his right hand and placed it under his buttocks to look like he had been sitting on it to keep the tension. I positioned the laptop in front of Winterman and spread the photos around the table and by his feet. To anyone confronted by this scene it would appear that he had died whilst practicing an autoerotic asphyxiation technique and had pushed the envelope too far.
I washed up my teacup and the glass and put them away, there were no other traces of my having been there so it was now time to make my exit. The spilt water was already drying so I pressed play on the laptop and set the movie running then left before I had the unfortunate opportunity to hear or see the content. Outside I checked the street and when it was clear I hurried back to my car and drove back to Brentwood. Winterman was dead and though technically it didn't look like he had intentionally taken his own life, it was as far as I was concerned suicide.
It was late at night when I opened my front door and Jackie rushed to greet me. I picked him up and carried him through to the kitchen and fed him while I had a stiff drink to calm the nerves. I had now carried out three killings and considered myself sufficiently competent at it.
THREE LIVES AND MANY LIES
10
Within days the tabloids were covering the squalid story of a former public school Physical Education teacher who had been found dead at his home in Enfield. It was reported that he had died of asphyxia whilst practising autoerotic asphyxiation, an extreme sexual practice that had gone wrong. There was incriminating evidence found at the scene that suggested the teacher, Harold Winterman, was a practicing paedophile. Since the discovery victims and witnesses had come forward with stories about Winterman stretching back thirty years. Boys who had attended the Blackstone School, who were now grown men, had spoken out about their abuse at his hands. Police said that Winterman's death was most likely accidental. An autopsy was performed and nothing suspicious about the death was found. Naturally there would be an inquest and a police investigation into the catalogue of abuse carried out by Winterman.
I had already contacted Derek Williams and confirmed that the contract had been fulfilled, he was very pleased and thanked me on behalf of his client for my expediency. I was to be paid twenty thousand pounds for killing Winterman. I was going to get my Audi.
Kevin was delighted when I rang him to say I was coming over to see the car.
''Top decision my friend, you won't regret it. The motor is sound as a pound.''
''Course it is Kev, I would expect nothing less from you. I will be over today so best get the polish out mate.'' I loved winding him up. '' See you later. Oh! and by the way I want top dollar on my old Ford Focus.'' I hung up before he could answer.
Next on my list of things to do was a phone call to Howard so we could fix a meet.
''Morning Howard
, I trust you are well?'' I asked when he answered my call.
''Hello Steve, fine thanks, busy but fine. I trust you concluded your business successfully?''
''Absolutely, sweet as a nut. I am ringing to see about that meeting we are having in Sevenoaks. I am free now so whenever's best for you.''
''Sunday would suit me as it's my quietest day of the week, I can be at the services by 12.30 if you like.''
'' Good for me too. I will wait in the Costa Coffee shop if I am first there. As we don't know each other how will we make contact with each other?'' The identity problem had only just occurred to me.
''Not a problem, I have a recent photo of you so I will find you.''
The revelation that he had a picture of me caught me by surprise. Did he have me under surveillance, how did he get the photo. ''You have me at a disadvantage there Howard.'' I tried not to sound offended.