Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story

by Adam Nicholls

  ‘I just wanted to ask you about your captives. Are they still alive?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Mason – May I call you Mason?’ He waited for a reply, then gave up. ‘Whatever I tell you, I can’t be sure that you would believe me.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘Okay… Marion, as you know, has lost her head. The older woman is cut up into iddy-biddy pieces, and the daughter is still alive. For now, anyway.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Mason said, sounding riled now.

  ‘See, I told you.’ Anarchy looked at his wristwatch. The day was just starting. ‘Want to tell me why you really wanted to speak with me?’

  ‘No. That’s… That’s all.’

  ‘Good.’ He hung up and launched the phone at the nearest wall. He didn’t need any more temptation. Anything that might keep him in touch with Mason would be too much of a pull for him. Besides, he kind of liked how he lived his life, cruising from city to city, causing a little mayhem.

  All he had left to do was finish the girl and move on.

  That was, if he could just let this go.

  20

  ‘Tell me you got it.’ Mason dropped the phone to the desk, his blood boiling.

  Miller nodded. ‘More or less.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I’ve narrowed it down to one of the farthest three buildings on Blackburn Industrial Estate.’

  Mason remembered hearing about that place on the local news. When the company had exchanged hands and immediately gone bankrupt, protestors had fought to keep the factories open. A couple of thousand jobs were lost that day, and now the entire estate just lay dormant – a hotspot for homeless people and junkies. If Mason had kidnapped somebody himself, he too thought it would be a good location to stay out of sight.

  ‘Want to tell me what this is about?’

  ‘Anarchy,’ Mason said, getting out of the chair. ‘Just some nutjob.’

  ‘Wait.’ Miller shot to his feet. ‘I’ve heard that name before.’

  Mason’s eyes met his. ‘What? Where?’

  ‘Didn’t he kill one of our own? A cop?’

  His heart suddenly dropped with disappointment. For a moment there, he thought he was going to hear something that might help him along. Nevertheless, he had an address to go to now. ‘Yeah, that’s the guy.’

  ‘Does Cox know that you’re investigating?’

  ‘I would think so.’ Mason went for the door. ‘Thanks for your help.’

  But Miller leapt in the way, walking backwards with a palm held out to stop Mason. ‘You understand I can’t keep this one to myself? This is vital information that could lead to the killer’s arrest. I have to tell the captain.’

  ‘You said this was between us.’ Mason noticed his own fist automatically clenching.

  ‘That was before I knew who we were talking about!’

  ‘You’re a rat, Miller. To hell with you.’

  ‘Listen.’ John Miller removed his glasses and slid them onto the table. He rubbed at his eyes, adjusting to his natural vision. ‘I know you and I have never seen eye to eye, but I want you to know that I’m not going out of my way to cause trouble for you. Captain Cox has to know about this. I would help you – I have helped you – but I’m not risking my job over this.’

  Mason supposed he was right. As much as he disliked Miller, he was only doing his job, and was already extending a courtesy. Besides, would it be so bad if Cox found out what he was up to? He might get into some trouble for keeping the phone to himself, but he could probably use the help of the SFPD. ‘You’re right. Thanks for your help.’

  ‘You’re okay with me telling her?’

  ‘You just stay put,’ Mason said, going toward the door. ‘I’ll tell her myself.’

  21

  For the first time in years, Mason found himself inside the captain’s office.

  Nothing much had changed, really. Family photos still littered her desk, the same plastic plant sat in the corner, and – despite the world’s transfer to the digital age – paperwork still made a mess of the room.

  Captain Cox herself, as beautiful as she was stubborn, shuffled these papers and put them neatly to one side. ‘And you want my help?’ she said, leaning back in her chair.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Even though you knowingly withheld evidence from a police investigation.’

  Mason shifted uneasily. ‘Even so.’

  ‘Internal Affairs are going to have my ass for this. I hope you understand how much trouble you’ve put me in.’ Cox sat up straight, sighed and opened her laptop. ‘What exactly do you need?’

  ‘Just a few police officers to help storm the building.’

  ‘To help? Mason, you’re still a civilian, even if you don’t want to be. Now, maybe I can send some people into these buildings to look for these women, but you can’t go in there with them.’

  Mason rose from his chair. ‘No. I’m going in. My case, my rules.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Cox made a strangling motion with her hands. ‘You’re absolutely impossible.’

  ‘But dependable, right?’ Mason said, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘I guess.’ Cox picked up the phone, scratching her eyebrow with irritation. ‘Considering how often you work alongside us, it’s a wonder you haven’t asked for your old job back.’

  Mason watched her then, the phone pressed to her ear while her expression contorted. Was it what she had said that bothered her? He stayed quiet and let her get on with the call. It was minutes later that she hung up and stood.

  ‘Get your coat,’ she said, taking the gun from her desk drawer.

  ‘You’re coming with us?’

  ‘My case, my rules,’ Cox said with a smirk.

  Mason smiled too, remembering again why he had liked working with this woman. ‘Just let me get my gun.’

  22

  Anarchy shoved the bucket to one side and moved to the sink. Not all of the blood would come out of his clothes, but he could always buy new ones.

  It never hurts to switch things up a bit.

  Standing at the industrial-sized basin, where a window overlooked the other factories (and even a partial view of the city), he ripped the dirtied rubber gloves from his hands. It always seemed to shock him just how sticky blood was. It got everywhere and refused to budge – like a dark reminder of his sins.

  It never bothered him for long, however. He liked doing the things that he did. He liked seeing people squirm. When he was younger, his therapists had tried to delve into his love of hurting animals. “Aggressive control,” they’d called it. But they were wrong – Anarchy liked to think of it as exploration of the anatomy.

  Admiring the way the sun bounced off the golden city, he dumped the saw (which he had used for the limbs) into the water, then the scalpel (for the chest). He watched as the blood smoked into a cloud, like a beautiful red jellyfish. It made him think of just how nice the world could be when people weren’t in it.

  Anarchy began scrubbing the tools, leaning in to focus on the particularly stubborn stains. It was only by the slightest flicker of luck that he happened to catch the movement outside.

  In the distance, kicking up dust as they came his way, a van and two police cruisers were racing onto the estate. Somehow, they had gotten over the rocky and unpaved terrain leading up to the place, but now they were on the main stretch.

  Ooh, they’re coming to the party.

  He looked around him, taking in the contents of the room. If he needed to fight, this would be a perfect room to maintain an advantage. But the police? They would probably have smoke grenades, not to mention the fact that he would be drastically outnumbered.

  Knowing that the woman wouldn’t be needing it, he used her torn dress as a rag to dry his dripping hands and rushed back to the main room. If he was going to fight, he’d need one of his weapons. Even if he was going to flee, he would still want to grab his things.

  But regardless of his decision, the game was over for him. There would always b
e new victims – new people to terrorise and distress. That was enough to keep him going, and it surely would be for as long as he was causing a little anarchy.

  23

  As they passed over the rocky ground, bumping and grinding along, it was only by freak chance that Mason looked at his silent phone at the exact time Evie was calling.

  What does she want?

  He was pleased that she was getting in touch – no question about it – but something didn’t seem right. Considering how she had been acting lately, forcing him out of her life, it seemed unusual that she should talk to him at all, much less initiate the call.

  ‘Hello?’ he said, answering the phone and putting a finger to his other ear.

  ‘Mason?’ Evie sounded small and frightened.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘I… to speak to…’

  Mason leaned further away from the door. Although the reception was fine, he was having a hard time hearing anything through the struggle of the van over the rocks. ‘What’s wrong, Evie? You need to speak up.’

  Captain Cox looked at him from the other side of the van, tapping her watch.

  ‘I’m… as soon as possible… for the best.’

  ‘I can’t hear you!’ he explained again, and was about to hang up until he heard more.

  For a fleeting moment, the engine simmered down, making it easier to hear. ‘I said I’m moving to New York!’

  Mason froze, shocked. He felt a small pang of heat cross his forehead, like he would usually only do when he felt like he was in trouble. But he was in trouble; he tried to imagine his life without Evie. Even with Diane at his side, the world seemed cold and lonely. ‘What… New York? Why? When?’

  ‘Movement on the fourth floor,’ the driver called back.

  As the van slowed to a stop, Cox checked the magazine and, satisfied, slid it back into her gun. She tapped Mason on the shoulder, an indication to get off the damn phone.

  ‘It’s just something I have to do,’ Evie said. ‘I need a fresh start, away from the memories.’

  I caused this, Mason thought, suddenly hating himself. I forced her into seeking a new life. I made her feel as though she had to abandon her old one.

  ‘Time’s up,’ Cox said, opening the door and flooding the van with sunlight.

  ‘I’m sorry, sis, but I really have to go. I’ll call you later.’ Regretfully, Mason hung up, double-checked that his flak jacket was secured and picked up his sidearm. Now that he was heading into the danger zone, he couldn’t quite get his head where it needed to be.

  What have I done?

  24

  Mason wasn’t ready for this, but it was too late to turn back now.

  Why do all the killers seem so hell-bent on screwing with my life? It drove him crazy at the best of times, but now, with the probability of losing Evie for good, all he could see was his own rage.

  The police team lead the pack, Mason and Captain Leanne Cox in tow. They had each other’s backs, exactly how they had been trained to do. Together, they ascended the stairs, two people cutting out at each floor to sweep the area.

  At the fourth floor, it was Mason, Cox, and two officers who seemed to know what they were doing. They kept close to the walls, their rifles ready to fire at anything that moved. That was, of course, anything that wasn’t a civilian.

  ‘I’m coming for you, Anarchy! You hear me?’ Mason let his screams echo across the dark, empty offices. ‘This is the end!’

  ‘Will you shut up?’ Cox hissed.

  ‘I’m sick of these assholes,’ Mason said. He was unfocused. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to stifle his anger. ‘They think they can just do what they want. Well, I’m not going to let it–’

  The captain sprung toward him, firmly pinning her forearm across his neck. ‘You shut up! Right now! This isn’t some game. Lives are at stake here, and I’m not going to let you risk it all for the sake of some personal vendetta. Now settle down or go back to the van.’ She let go, grunting, and caught up with the other officers.

  Mason, shame now confusing his feelings, straightened himself out and moved on. Maybe Cox is right. I’m letting this hit me a little too hard. It was all about Evie, of course, but he had to keep his mind on the job.

  ‘Help!’ a girl suddenly screamed. It was on their floor, somewhere far off and to the left.

  The team cleared the area quickly and efficiently, entering each room with expert manoeuvres. Mason caught up and began to take point. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In here!’ the girl yelled again, her voice shaky and full of tears.

  Mason rushed to open the nearby door. As soon as he did, bullets exploded. They lit up the dark room, striking the doorframe beside him. Mason swung around the frame, using the wall for cover. ‘Shots fired!’ he yelled to the team.

  Footsteps padded around inside the room them, but they were getting quieter.

  Cox, leading the charge, entered the room. ‘Suspect is fleeing.’

  Mason followed in behind her. The first thing he saw was the girl – presumably Lucy Healy – safe and sound. But then his eyes drew themselves to the nearby table, where the bloody remains of a human body lay cut up. Mason raised a hand to his mouth, fighting the urge to hurl.

  Cox grabbed at her radio. ‘We have the target coming down the stairs on the east side of the building. Cover the exit and…’

  Mason didn’t hang around to hear it. He dashed for the door in hot pursuit of Anarchy. In the past, he had been so lenient on these crazies that they had found a chance to harm him and his family. If he had a say in the outcome, he wouldn’t let that happen again.

  He took the steps two at a time, not even pausing to raise his gun. Still vaguely aware of Cox’s voice on his own radio, he burst through the fire door at the bottom and found himself struck by blinding sunlight.

  ‘Officers down,’ a man said this time, his voice crackling through the static. ‘Target escaped.’

  Shit. Mason threw his gun into the dirt and punched the nearby wall. His knuckles bled immediately, his bones feeling like they had been crushed. But he didn’t care. He had lost Anarchy and would probably not get a chance like that again. And although they had found the Healy girl, it was too late for Bianca or Marion, who had suffered a miserable end at the hands of another twisted murderer.

  25

  The adrenaline rush was everything he had ever wanted.

  That was incredible!

  Cowering behind a disused tanker, Anarchy tucked the semi-automatic into his pack and watched closely. A man stood by the back door, throwing his gun at the ground.

  Is this Mason Black? Whoever it was, he was with the police but wasn’t dressed like them, so it was quite possible that he had only been assisting. Anarchy studied him harder; he was a tall man with the muscles to match. A full head of hair and a good taste in Italian boots made him quite enviable. The only thing he was missing was a wild side.

  Something else occurred to him: Mason had made good on his promise. He’d sworn blind that he would catch Anarchy, and he had come so close! Fortunately, it wasn’t close enough.

  Now, Anarchy was laughing as he stood, marvelling at this wonderful man who had nearly brought him to his knees. He wanted to see more of him, to learn what made him tick. To see in person what made him the man he was.

  For now, however, he would have to abandon his factory, his collection of vehicles and his one remaining victim. But there was no harm in starting over. He had done it many times before and he would happily do it again.

  Only this time, he knew exactly what he wanted.

  26

  Three days had gone by, but Lucy Healy was looking no better.

  Mason sat at the far end of the press release table, watching her sulk quietly. He couldn’t blame her, really – she had endured far more than anybody should ever have to. She had seen her mother die, seen her friend decapitated, and now she had to sit and talk about it.

  This is
n’t fair.

  The press were a riot, too, taking their seats in an unorganised fashion, each pushing and shoving to get as close to the stand as possible. Mason supposed that being up front offered them more of a chance of having their questions answered. He would remember to keep that from happening.

  ‘If I can have your attention,’ said Captain Leanne Cox, standing tall beside Lucy. The reporters and photographers shuffled into their seats and quieted down. ‘We will be answering a series of questions one at a time. You will not speak until spoken to, and you will not interrupt. I don’t have to tell you that this has been a terrible ordeal for everybody involved, and your sensitivity will be appreciated.’ She sat and whispered something into Lucy’s ear.

  The first reporter to be selected for a question was representing San Franciscomm, an online magazine. ‘Do the police have a confirmed name of the kidnapper?’

  Detective Bill Harvey spoke up. ‘The individual has not yet been identified, but likes to call himself Anarchy. This name was found at several of his crime scenes, and so, this is how he will be known until we have further information.’

  Satisfied, the reporter sat down, and another rose in his place. This one was an attractive black woman, or so Mason thought. She reminded him a little of Diane, and he suddenly realised how much he wanted to be with her right now.

  ‘This one is for Miss Healy,’ said the reporter. ‘Is it true that you’ve not yet drawn up a police sketch? And if not, why?’

  Lucy looked to Mason, and then at Cox, who nodded supportively. She took a few moments, cleared her throat, then leaned toward the microphone. ‘Things have been a little too much to bear, at the moment. I will go through this procedure as soon as I think I’m able to cope with it. Until then, I hope that you can forgive me for my weakness in handling the situation.’

  Mason was impressed at how well she had tackled the question. He wondered if she’d had any kind of a history in presentations and speeches.

  ‘Is it true that Anarchy was in the same room as you, and yet you still failed to apprehend him?’ asked a courageous young blogger. His career probably wouldn’t last long if this was his usual level of courtesy.