by Helen L Lowe
‘Julian, dear boy - you have no idea.’
CHAPTER 27
Paddington Green Police Station
8:15 a.m. Thursday 30 March
DCI Chase stood by the window in his office and watched the rain as it came down in sheets onto the cars parked outside. At 7 a.m. he had been woken by a phone call from Cooper, who had been on night surveillance. He told Chase that Hartmann and Erikson had arrived at the flat at 3:10 a.m. and there had been a fight of some sort but they seemed to get over it and were talking until 4:25 a.m. The surveillance team outside saw Erikson’s Bentley drive out of the underground carpark at 4:35 a.m. and they stayed with him until he went over Putney Bridge but then lost him. As Chase was trying to make sense of the situation, there was a knock on his office door.
‘Come in,’ Chase said.
DS Cooper came in holding a reel of recording tape and a notebook.
‘Any news?’
Cooper shook his head. ‘The flat sounds empty and despite having every car out we’ve had no sightings of the Bentley. They seem to have disappeared into thin air.’
‘You said there were definitely two men in the car when it left the flat.’
Cooper nodded. He set the reel up in a recorder on Chase’s desk, and opened the notebook. ‘The recording starts when they come into the flat at ten past three.’ He turned the recording on.
You think you’re so clever, don’t you - a clever doctor slumming it with an uneducated man like me
I’m sorry, the evening just overran
(Sounds of a scuffle and banging that continued while Erikson was speaking)
You think you can fuck around with me - fucking public school Nancy boy - that’s what you are – you’re not even clever enough to know you’re gay
(Sounds of thuds and scuffling and someone gasping for breath - sound of someone being punched - coughing and retching – background noise – long silence)
Is this how you treated David Woods?
Only when he deserved it.
So what did I do to deserve that?
Poor Julian, how did you get so fucked up?
(Silence)
It was that boarding school - wasn’t it? The silent treatment - you need to relax - can I get you a drink - come on, Julian – chill - I know, I’ve got something that will do the trick –
(Silence)
Have you ever taken drugs Julian?
Years ago when I was young and stupid.
You know, sometimes you really irritate me with your “holier than thou” comments.
Cooper paused the tape. ‘This goes on for a while and we heard someone snorting and sniffing, so we guessed that Erikson was using. Then Erikson started yelling. It gets interesting again further on.’ He wound the tape forward.
I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me - please, sit down again - have a drink.
(Silence)
You know - I’m not as insensitive as you think - I can understand why you don’t want to talk about your school days - traumatic events in childhood are often hidden beneath years of pain and torment - were you raped by a tutor or just molested
(Silence)
You were raped - weren’t you - by a tutor perhaps or a senior boy or by a gang of them
(Silence)
Refill? - I had such hopes for us Julian - but you blew it all away - you’re looking tired Julian - perhaps a lie down would do you good – where were we? Oh, yes, your rape – perhaps you ought to consider suing – I would think Pendlebury would be horrified if news of a rape got out – but maybe it wasn’t rape – maybe you were a willing young homosexual just starting to express your sexuality.
You sick bastard.
Julian, dear boy - you have no idea.
(Long silence)
You can relax, Julian, nothing’s going to happen tonight. We’re just going to talk - take a seat and make yourself comfortable - what would you like to drink - Whisky, coffee?’
Whisky, thank you - could I use your bathroom?
‘Yes, of course - it’s off the hall.
‘Wait a moment,’ Chase said, indicating for Cooper to pause the tape. ‘That doesn’t make sense - Julian has used the bathroom before, why would Erikson give him directions.’
‘Is he right about Hartmann being raped when he was a kid?’
Chase shrugged. ‘No idea – but if it’s true, the last person he needs to be with is Erikson.’ He nodded at Cooper to start the tape again.
So tell me about yourself?
What would you like to know?
Childhood is always a good place to start.
It was pretty boring - not worth talking about.
I find that hard to believe - what about education.
I went to Pendlebury in Cambridge.
Chase pointed to the tape recorder again and Cooper stopped it.
‘We’ve definitely heard that conversation before,’ Chase said. ‘It was the first time Hartmann went there. Erikson has played a recording of an earlier conversation.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because he’s found out that his flat is bugged and he wants to convince us that Hartmann is ok.’
‘You think Hartmann’s dead?’
‘He could be unconscious - knocked out, maybe.’
‘Or drugged,’ Cooper said.
‘And there were definitely two men in the car.’
Cooper nodded. ‘I suppose Hartmann could have been propped up in the seat to fool us.’
‘What time did they leave the flat?’
Cooper checked his notebook. ‘The talking stopped at twenty five past four and they left the flat ten minutes later.’
‘Well, let’s hope Hartmann is still alive - but now Erikson’s got him somewhere and we have no idea where.’ Chase walked over to the window and stared out at the rain. ‘Keep searching for the car, we might get lucky.’ He turned back to Cooper. ‘One more thing. Search the flat - just in case Hartmann is still there.’
‘D’you really think he might be dead?’
‘I wouldn’t put anything past that bastard.’
CHAPTER 28
9:40 a.m. Thursday 30 March
It was daylight when Julian opened his eyes and he stared straight ahead. He saw a naked man tied spread-eagled to a large wooden rectangular platform. The man’s face was hidden behind a black hood that had slits for the eyes and mouth. It took time to realise he was looking at his own reflection through a mirror suspended above him.
After a few moments, he heard himself saying “sortez-moi de là”. He repeated the phrase twice more and in desperation yelled, ‘get me the fuck out of here.’ He listened, straining to hear a sound but there was nothing, not even London traffic.
He tried to see past the mirror, which covered the whole width and length of the platform and appeared to be suspended from a very high sloping ceiling. There was a skylight window in the ceiling giving him a view of clouds, spots of rain and a few lightning flashes that jarred his already strung out nerves. Sometime later after that, he heard a door open and footsteps coming towards him and behind him, out of his line of sight. When he heard a hoarse chuckle, he knew it was Erikson. He came into view, walking around the platform to stand by Julian’s feet with his arms spread out in a theatrical gesture.
‘Julian, you look magnificent.’
Julian swallowed hard to clear the vomit that had just hit the back of his throat.
‘What - no quick witted reply from our clever doctor? Makes me wish I’d thought of this a whole lot sooner.’ He ran his hand along Julian’s left leg up to his scrotum, giving his genitals a sharp slap with the flat of his hand before taking it higher to stroke and slap his chest and twist his nipples hard. He pulled the hood off Julian’s head and grinned down at him. ‘Now, that’s the look you had in the club – scared shitless - it suits you.’
‘Why are you doing this? I thought we were . . .’
‘Friends - is that what you were going to say? But you’re r
ight I should explain.’ He sat down on the edge of the platform next to Julian. ‘Mm, now let me see - where to begin? Perhaps it has something to do with the flat being bugged - or perhaps I’m just PISSED OFF because you’re helping the fucking pigs?’
Julian had to swallow more vomit. ‘I’m just trying to find my son - surely you can understand that.’
‘Yes, I think I can and I have some good news for you.’ He was grinning insanely. ‘You’ve only gone and done it - you’ve found him – see what I did for you, I kept him safe.’ He slapped Julian’s face hard. ‘Come on, show some gratitude.’ He suddenly grinned and looked around the room. ‘By the way, you must have realised by now that we’re not in the flat, so there’ll be no-one listening in, recording every word. Your magic French words won’t work here but maybe you’re thinking the police followed us.’ He leant over to stare, with a look of pure evil, into Julian’s face. ‘Well, no-one is out there. Do you understand? There’ll be no rescue by our wonderful police force. You’re all mine.’
He stood up and checked his watch. ‘I’ll be back later and we’ll have a good old heart to heart, you know the kind of thing - I’ll tell you what’s going to happen and you’ll have a chance to plead and beg for mercy. This isn’t going to be all one way - my way - it will be something we have both contributed to. So, I’m going to tell you a little about it now because I’d like you to think about it and try to come up with some exciting scenes. Basically, you’re going to star in a film - I bet you never thought you would be a film star - and I think Sam could have a role in this film - you and Sam - Sam and you - the possibilities are endless.’
He walked over to a table on the right of the bed and came back with a needle and syringe which he held in front of Julian’s face. ‘Recognise this? I found it in your jacket. It’s an odd thing to carry around with you. Were you expecting to have an opportunity to use it - on me, perhaps?’
Julian had lost his power of speech.
‘Now, I wonder what the dose should be - let me see, there are ten millilitres of something in the syringe and I presume that is the dose you would have given me?’ He laughed. ‘This is fun.’ He examined Julian’s right arm. ‘I think intravenous would be the best way - works quicker, so I’m told.’ He looked at the blood vessels in Julian’s neck. ‘Some nice ones here as well.’
‘You can’t,’ Julian blurted out.
‘Sorry - I didn’t quite catch that. What did you say?’
‘You can’t give me all of that.’
‘Really? Why - what is it?’
‘It’s a sedative.’
‘And what dose would I give if I wanted to knock someone out for a few hours?’
‘Half that.’
Erikson laughed. ‘You really do think I’m stupid, don’t you.’ He stood up. ‘But - I’ve changed my mind. I’ve got something better than that.’ He went back to the table and came back a minute later with another loaded syringe.
Julian was alarmed by the glass syringe and rusty metal needle. It looked like something a junkie would use; old and definitely not sterile. ‘What’s that?’
‘Heroin - top quality.’ He grinned at Julian. ‘Feel better now you know?’ He waited for a response. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’ He looked at Julian’s right arm again. ‘Nice healthy veins - much better than your son’s. I can see you haven’t been shooting up in dark alleys.’
‘For fuck sake - John, you can’t . . .’
He chuckled. ‘Yes, I can.’ He tied a strip of thin rubber tubing around Julian’s arm above the elbow.
‘John, please – can’t we talk . . .’
‘The time for talking has long since passed.’
‘I’ve never used heroin - given IV it could be fatal.’
‘I know - it’s another first for you. Your life just keeps on getting better, doesn’t it?’ He slapped the vein that was starting to swell up.
‘If it’s to keep me quiet . . .’
‘It’s not to keep you quiet.’
‘Then why?’
Erikson grinned at him. ‘Because I want to.’ He pushed the needle through the skin and into the vein, releasing the strap with his other hand. ‘Any last requests?’
Julian’s fear was replaced by sheer panic . . . last requests? ‘For God’s sake - how much?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘How much - what dose, are you giving me?’
‘Enough,’ he said, as he pushed the plunger steadily home. ‘Enjoy the trip, dear boy.’
CHAPTER 29
11 a.m. Thursday 30 March
Harriet was rushing to get home before the heavens opened up. It had been threatening to rain all morning and the lightning flashes, which she hated, were getting too close. She was taking her coat off in the hall when she heard a sound coming from under the floor.
In the kitchen, she shut and bolted the kitchen door before going down into the cellar. At the bottom of the steps she took her skirt, blouse and shoes off and changed into the nurse’s uniform that hung on a coat-hanger on a row of coat hooks. After checking her reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall beside the coat hooks, she adjusted the starched white cap and tucked some loose hair back with pale yellow clips that matched her hair colour. The black stockings and sensible black shoes completed the outfit.
She walked around the shelving unit that concealed the bed from anyone walking down the steps. Michael was still in bed but he was awake and he had somehow managed to get the intravenous tubing wound around his fingers and pulled on it hard enough to pull the drip-stand over. She unwound the tubing from his fingers and checked the strapping on that wrist. It was very loose. He must have been pulling on it for hours.
‘There, there - calm down, there’s a good boy.’
He stared at her with wide frightened eyes and obviously wanted to say something, beg for mercy probably but of course couldn’t because the tape over his mouth was firmly in place. She applied more strapping on his wrist to prevent it happening again and picked up the drip-stand to place it upright at the head of the bed. After replacing the bag of saline with a new one from the shelf, she managed to get the drip working again.
She checked the catheter bag hanging on the side of the bed. It was half full so she emptied it into a jug and poured the urine down the sink, at the back of the cellar. It gave her a chance to check on her second patient, whose bed was hidden away behind the large chimney breast. He was heavily sedated and his intravenous drip and catheter were fine.
The light above the bed flickered and went out, and she made a mental note to remind Harry once again that it needed fixing. Harry didn’t like the bright lights over the beds but for her, it reminded her of the wards when she was a nurse. It gave the scene an authentic ambience.
She was just about to leave when Michael let out a stifled cry and made a pathetic attempt to move his arms, which were strapped down to the bed’s iron frame. She could give him more sedation but it was getting close to his time and she wanted him fully awake. It wasn’t just about the kill, she told Harry, the anticipation both for them and their victim helped build the tension. If there was no tension it was nothing but a senseless act.
* * *
Hyde Park Café
12:55 p.m. Thursday 30 March
Lizzie arrived at the café five minutes early. She chose a table at the back in a secluded corner and waited anxiously for Julian to arrive. Their row yesterday was still in her mind and she regretted saying things that she knew must have hurt him. Thinking back, she couldn’t understand why she behaved the way she did. She liked sex like any other healthy woman but it was their first time after sixteen years, a dreamed for moment that had actually come true, but to rip his shirt off - where the hell did that come from? She remembered the look of surprise on his face and couldn’t help but smile to herself. It had certainly made an impact on him but perhaps not a good one.
She was approached by a waitress but said she was expecting someone else and she tried to be patien
t. Ten minutes later, she was starting to worry. Julian was only five minutes late now but he was usually punctual to the point of being pedantic. Another ten minutes passed and now he was fifteen minutes late. Something was wrong.
She ordered some tea and sat drinking alone until it was 1:30 p.m. It was plain to her, and the impatient waitress, that he wouldn’t be coming. She paid the bill and walked out into the wet afternoon wondering what could have happened. He had sounded pleased to hear from her when she called, and keen to meet up again so she had thought. She found herself making excuses for his nonappearance, like everyone did when they had been stood up for a date. Perhaps he was ill, lying in bed all alone with no one to care for him. It didn’t take her long to make a decision.
She practically ran back to her sister’s house to get the car. Sally was out with the children on a visit to The British Museum and she was grateful that no awkward explanations were needed. When she arrived at Sussex House, she got out of the car and peered up at Julian’s window. If he was ill in bed she would expect the curtains to be closed but they were drawn back. She rang the doorbell and waited. It was opened by a blonde bombshell.
‘Good afternoon,’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I was hoping to speak to Julian.’
The woman smiled and stood aside for her to come in. ‘If you wait in the hall, I’ll check to see if he’s in.’
Lizzie assumed that she was the landlady and wondered why Julian hadn’t mentioned how attractive she was. She heard the knock on Julian’s door and the landlady calling out to say he had a visitor but there was no response. She came back down the stairs.
‘I’m sorry he doesn’t appear to be in. Would you like to leave a message?’
Lizzie nodded and accepted the pen and note pad the woman held out to her. She wrote a quick message and handed it over.
‘I’ll slip it under his door,’ she said.