by S FEATES
''Sir Robert, why didn't you say. How much is a large supply?'' He still didn't open the door.
''My wife is holding a party at the country retreat this weekend and she insisted that we simply must have some coke for the guests. There will be about a hundred or so. What can I get for twenty thousand?''
The door was opened and I was whisked in. The large wad of cash and the added bonus that I was a friend of Chadwick so therefore another potential blackmail victim was all it took to gain access. Fisher was dressed in a pair of striped pyjama bottoms and a tee-shirt, he was unshaven and his hair was sticking up all over the place. He pulled out a chair and I sat, he lit a cigarette and sat down. On the table was an array of drug paraphernalia, spoons, syringes, tin foil, tea lights and rubber strapping. Fisher was not intent on hiding his addiction.
''I see you're an aficionado of the White Lady.'' I nodded in the direction of the apparatus.
''Heroin? Yes I do take a touch now and again. How do you know about the White Lady? Wouldn't have thought it was your bag.'' He took a deep drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke up towards the nicotine stained ceiling.
''Oh, I have been there my friend, what else was there to do while waiting for ones father to pass on the family inheritance. Life gets so boring when you have time on ones hands. I have tried drugs you've probably never heard of, back in the day.'' I sniggered as I boasted about my non-existent lifestyle. ''I don't suppose you will be taking a hit now will you? I've had the most awful day so far and I could do with taking the edge off, if you know what I mean.'' I was hoping he would be open to helping me out.
The thought of getting high with the stuck up Toff sitting opposite him appealed to Fisher, he saw it as an opportunity to take advantage of him and maybe sell him some blow at an inflated price. ''As it happens I do like to start the day on a high, so to speak, so maybe we could do a couple of lines.''
''No, not cocaine, I was thinking of something a tad heavier.'' I said nodding at the syringes.
Fisher got the drift and nodded in agreement. ''Sure, why not, I will cook up enough for us both. Won't take me a minute.''
I watched and learned as Fisher set about his well practiced routine, after heating the spoon over a tea light he drew the brown liquid up into two of the syringes and offered me one.
''After you Mr Fisher, I will be a while taking off my jacket and rolling up my sleeve, don't worry though I will be right behind you.'' He was so intent on getting a fix that he didn't suspect I was playing for time..
Fisher was already tying a length of rubber around his arm just above the elbow. He held one end in his mouth to keep it taught and then he smacked his forearm to bring up a vein. There were several old track marks on his skin and as soon as he located the vein he added one more. Slowly he injected the drug into his arm and as he did he released the strap. I had rolled up my sleeve and was slowly tying the rubber strip to show I was willing. Fisher leaned back in his chair and relaxed, his head rolled to one side and he let out a long sigh. He was already on another planet by the time I had my jacket back on. I took out a pair of latex gloves and put them on then I went over to Fisher and shook him, he flapped his arm as though swatting a fly but his eyes remained shut and his breathing steady. I had to move quick, I didn't bother with the strap I just picked up the other syringe and taking his arm I stuck the needle into the same point where he had shot up. I emptied the second syringe into him and to be on the safe side I cooked another spoonful and injected him again. I had no idea if it was enough to kill him but it was the best I could do. I left the syringe hanging out of his arm and placed the rubber strap in his right hand.
Suddenly there was a loud banging on the door and then the sound of someone shouting from the other side.
''Danny, it's me Tim are you in there?''
I nearly shit myself, this was not part of the plan. I was stuck in the room, hopefully with a dead man, and there was no chance of escape. One door in and the same door out. I had to hope that this Tim would give up and go away. That wasn't about to happen though.
''I know you're in there Danny let me in, it's me your brother Tim I'm worried about you, we need to talk bruv.'' He banged on the door again. ''If you don't open it I will break it down!'' He banged again, this time louder.
I desperately looked around for somewhere to hide, there was nowhere in this room so I looked in the bedroom. The only feasible place was under the bed, corny perhaps but right now I didn't care. The bedspread, fortunately for me, reached down to the floor on all sides so it was as good a place as any. I hoped that Tim would be more concerned with his brother than worrying about anyone possibly hiding in the flat. I just managed to pull myself under when I heard the sound of a Yale lock breaking and wood splintering as Tim broke down the door and came crashing in.
I heard Tim frantically trying to wake his brother from the drug induced coma. The next thing I heard was Tim phoning the emergency services for an ambulance. He explained that his brother had probably overdosed on Heroin and that he couldn't wake him. The person on the other end was talking him through some options until the ambulance arrived. It took at least fifteen minutes before the paramedics turned up. They attended to the prostrate Danny Fisher and gave him a shot of Naloxone which blocks the effects of opioids, especially in overdose situations. After waiting for a few minutes to see if there was a response, which there was not, the paramedics made the decision to take Fisher to hospital. They strapped him into a chair they had brought in with them and carried him down to the ambulance. Tim went with them leaving the flat empty and with the door hanging off its hinges.
I waited a good ten minutes before sliding out from under the bed. I was shaking like a leaf, it had been a close one. I needed to search the flat for any incriminating evidence against Sir Robert Chadwick before I left, it didn't take long before I found a box file containing SD memory cards and photos of not only Sir Robert but other victims also. I gathered up the box and left the flat. I was still shaking when I got back to the hotel.
12
I had checked out of the slum hotel as soon as I could and hurried back to Essex. Jackie was there to greet me as I opened the front door. I bent down and gave him a stroke and asked him if he had been behaving himself. He purred loudly as if to say of course and then ran off into the lounge. I glanced at the mail that Sylvie had kindly put on the kitchen worktop and then went for a shower. I had to get the stench of that hotel and Fisher's flat off of me as soon as possible. The hot water and steam cleansed every pore and I soon felt much better.
When I came out of the bathroom I poured myself a large whisky and sat down to review the past few days. I had been lucky, it could all so easily have blown up in my face. I told myself that I was getting too cocky because it had all been so easy, four people despatched in a matter of a few months and I thought I was indestructible, Superman. Well recent events proved I was not, I had to slow down and think things through rather than charge in half cocked and hope for the best. I didn't even know if Fisher was dead and I didn't know how to find out either. What if he recovered and gave the police my description. Shit! Shit! Shit! I had been so stupid! The best way forward was for me to lay low for a couple of months and not take on any more contracts yet. I had my meet with Howard to look forward to and if I worked for him it would take my mind off things. I gave Sylvie a call and told her I was back and to thank her for taking care of Jackie. She said no problem and that she would be down later so that I could take care of her. I could have done with her right now as it happened but I was willing to wait.
I needn't have worried about finding out if Fisher was dead. Sir Robert rang me and thanked me for the excellent job I had done for him. He assured me that his chauffeur would be dropping by later to deliver my payment and to pick up all paperwork connected with the contract, including the reports and photographs he had sent me. I didn't want to make it obvious that I didn't know Fisher was dead so I asked him how he had received the news so fast.
&
nbsp; ''I had a call from our mutual friend Anthony Nolan, he is a member of Eden and apparently the place is buzzing with the news that Mr Fisher had been found dead by his brother Timothy in his flat having overdosed on Heroin. There is a rumour that there was enough of the ghastly stuff in him to kill a small elephant, talk about overkill. Still I must congratulate you and you certainly deserve the fifty percent extra. Well goodbye Mr Black, I doubt that we shall be speaking again and thank you.'' He rang off.
Well I didn't know Tony was a member of Eden, it made sense I suppose now that he considered himself to be part of the metropolitan elite. There were good contacts to be made there as Sir Robert found out. At least I now knew that I had killed Fisher so there was no chance of his putting me away. I also hoped that the large dose of Heroin that I had filled him with didn't arouse any suspicion. I had the presence of mind to pick up the second used syringe when I left his flat just in case it looked like he had company. In my haste to leave I wasn't sure if I had missed any other detail that would come back to haunt me later. Maybe my luck would hold out but I knew I would have to change my ways or risk losing my liberty.
True to his word Sir Robert's chauffeur did indeed drop of the money and I gave him all the documents including those that related to other victims of Fisher's blackmail. When he had gone I opened the bag that contained the money and counted it. Sixty thousand in cash, the forty I charged for the hit plus the fifty percent extra.
Cash is a wonderful thing, especially if you never used to have any, but it was a pain in the arse too. The problem was nobody wanted cash anymore, you had a job spending it because shops preferred credit or debit cards. Holding large sums of money on any premises these days was a liability. There was also the constant barrage from the authorities about money laundering, everyone who had a few grand was a potential criminal trying to offload illicit earnings. Banks were the worst, you couldn't just walk in nowadays and open a bank account with large sums of cash. The bank wanted to know the history of every note from the time it left the Mint. There was only so many times you could say you won the lottery or your horse came in at fifty to one to account for the money. Even then they knew that bookies and the Lottery never paid out large sums in cash. I had by now, even accounting for the Audi and the rent, accumulated a large sum of money and I needed to put it somewhere.
In the end I did open a bank account and stuck some in there, not enough to raise suspicions. Some I put in a safety deposit box that I rented at the same bank and I also opened an off shore account that I was assured was out of the reach of Her Majesty's Treasury. Knowing those robbing bastards it was probably where most of Her Majesty's Civil Servants and Government Ministers also had their ill gotten gains so I was happy.
FOUR LIVES - TOO FAST
13
The drive down to Sevenoaks was uneventful, I went via the Dartford crossing this time and apart from the queues for the shopping centres it was a great opportunity to, once again, put the Audi through its paces. I loved the car and was well impressed with its performance. It got me to the services ahead of time so I had to wait in Costa Coffee for Howard to arrive. I had tried to find a picture of him on the internet to level the playing field but after doing a search on Google I drew a blank. His funeral parlour was not listed and neither was any Howard Saltman. The man was an enigma so I had to wait for him to find me.
As I was sipping my latte I noticed a tall man enter the coffee shop, he stood for a moment scanning the room until his eyes settled on me. My first impression of him was Abraham Lincoln with white hair. He was tall and thin with white hair and a white beard, his suit was all black and his white shirt was fastened at the neck with a purple bowtie. He waved at me and then crossed the room and sat down opposite me. We shook hands and I asked him if he wanted a coffee, he declined.
''I don't drink coffee, but let me get you another.'' He asked.
''No I'm fine thanks. How was your trip?'' I wanted to get down to business but didn't want to seem rude.
''Surprisingly good for the M25, no hold ups. Shall we talk about my proposal?''
''Yes, I am very keen to hear more about it.''
Saltman looked around the half empty coffee shop and pulled his chair in closer. ''As I know everything about you, right up to the time that you spent in central London last week, I feel I owe you the same courtesy and will give you a brief resumé of my life before I outline my proposal for the future.''
Fuck me! Is there anybody who doesn't know anything about me. Had he been following me or was it just another thorough report from Derek. I held my tongue while he continued.
''I was born in Boston, Massachusetts in 1947. My folks were morticians as were theirs before them, it was a traditional family business. I am an only child and my folks cared for me and put me through high school and college before I followed in the family tradition and trained to be a mortician. Everything was fine and dandy until one day a hit and run driver mounted the sidewalk and hit my mom and dad killing them instantly.'' He leaned back in his chair, his eyes were tearing up at the memory. ''I was devastated, my world had been shattered. The driver was never found and brought to justice by the law, but he didn't escape vengeance. I tracked him down and I made him pay.'' He slammed his fist down on the table to emphasise the point drawing stares from those around us. ''One night I stopped by his house and confronted him about the crime. He denied it and just laughed in my face. Well I was madder than a jack rabbit in a gin trap and I hit him, knocked him clean out. There was no other person in the house so I dragged his unconscious body out to my car and put him in the trunk, tied his hands and feet with some old rope. I drove around not knowing what I was going to do with him and then it suddenly dawned on me, I was in the perfect profession to make someone disappear. I drove the car to our funeral parlour and parked in the garage where the hearse loads and unloads. I was out of sight and alone. I opened the trunk and lifted the still unconscious body out. I needed to keep him somewhere while I finalised my plans so I locked him in the cold store where we keep the cadavers. Fortunately for me it was the weekend and the staff were off so I had time to prepare. We always had a few caskets in stock for paupers funerals, they were paid for by the State when, for example, a homeless person dies and no relatives can be found. I selected a casket that was about the right size for the man in the cold store and set about padding it with extra lining, it needed to be a snug fit you see. When I was satisfied I closed up and went home, I needed to wait until the early hours of Monday morning before I put the man who killed my folks inside the casket. One last thing I did before I left was to fax the local crematorium to book an urgent slot for Monday. I knew that there were slots held back for emergencies and I took advantage. They would give me a time first thing Monday.''
I was enthralled by the tale I was hearing he made it sound so normal, as if everyone dealt with their parents death this way. At the same time I did find Howard Saltman a bit unnerving.
''Well, Monday morning at least two hours before any staff were due in I returned to the funeral parlour. I opened the cold storage to find a cold, shivering wreck of a man huddled in the corner. He had obviously been yelling for attention as his voice was croaky and hoarse. He kept asking me what I was doing and what I wanted, so I explained that as he had killed two people it was only fair that I kill him. He started weeping and begging me to let him go saying it had been a terrible accident, but I ignored him. To shut him up I injected him with a very strong sedative that I had bought with me from home. Once he was out cold I stripped him naked and bound him with gaffer tape, wrists, arms, legs and around his mouth. I didn't want him to be able to move or call out. Once he was trussed up I lifted him into the casket and packed any spaces with extra padding. When I was satisfied I closed the lid and secured it with screws. I burned his clothing in our purpose built incinerator to get rid of any evidence.''
I was horrified that he had shut a live man in a coffin, what the Hell was he going to do next, Jesus Christ! I made a
mental note never to upset this nutter.
''By the time my staff had come in I had received a fax from the crematorium to say they had booked my slot for ten fifteen. I explained to the staff that a body had been placed in our care over the weekend and that it was being cremated that morning. I calculated that by the time the casket entered the incinerator my folks murderer would be wide awake and aware he was about to burn. Justice would be served.''
A shiver ran down my spine, I could think of nothing worse than being burned alive. ''Fuck me! That's brutal.'' I exclaimed.
''Please Steve, there is one thing I will not tolerate and that is cussing. I don't expect to hear you do it again, there is no place for it.'' He was stony faced as he admonished me for swearing.
Well that was me told and I made another mental note not to 'cuss' in his presence again. He was beginning to scare me but I wasn't put off.
''The killer went to his death and I carried on with my life but I did use the experience to my benefit. I started providing a discrete service to people whose lives had been blighted by injustice. I saw myself as a vigilante I suppose. And boy was there a demand for justice. Eventually I got complacent and it cost me. I had to sell the family business and leave the States, that's how I ended up living in Oxford. Do you want to see what complacency looks like Steve?''
I shrugged my shoulders and nodded, I certainly knew about being complacent. ''Sure if it's visible.'' I was sceptical.
Howard rolled up his left sleeve and exposed two old but still angry looking scars on his forearm.
''This is what it looks like. Twice I was complacent and twice I paid for it.'' He rolled down his sleeve.
''What made those scars Howard?'' They looked like burns to me.