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

by Adam Nicholls

  As one significantly backward event led to another, an elderly lady reached for the dropped gun, pointing it at Anarchy with two shaking hands. ‘Somebody call the police,’ she said, and the look in her eyes showed that she was ready to shoot if she had to.

  ‘I got a better idea.’ The boy who stepped forward was barely a teen. His acne-ridden face was red with anger as he lunged out and pushed Anarchy from the cable car.

  Being on the receiving end of the fall, Anarchy understood how painful it was. It was a higher drop than he’d imagined, and the speed they’d been moving at caused him to roll. Had Mason felt this agony? Or was the gunshot wound making things worse?

  Somehow, he found the strength to climb to his feet. He saw Mason in the distance, and their eyes met as they both froze. Now unarmed and injured, Anarchy knew he had little chance of fighting him off, and so he did the only thing he could have done.

  He ran.

  The pain shooting through his leg was incredible. No pressure could be put on his knee, so he was hopping desperately toward the nearby alleyway. Mason must have been closing in on him, but he dared not waste time to stop and look.

  It’s all over, he confessed to himself. It’s done. I’m finished.

  A part of him almost believed it, too.

  84

  Bill was behind him, yelling… something. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t stop Mason, who was now darting into the alleyway in pursuit of this psychopath.

  Even though the alley was dark, there were glimmers of light bouncing off the high glass windows. At the far end, Anarchy was limping his way out. As he turned the corner and went out of sight, Mason caught his breath and followed.

  Come on, Mason.

  His own words of encouragement would have meant nothing if he hadn’t heard them in Evie’s voice. What was happening to him now? Had his conscience been personified and taken the form of his sister? Whatever it was, it was working.

  Out on the adjoining road, Anarchy was stumbling down to the bay, where a waist-high wall divided the sidewalk and the high tide. A car honked at him as he drew a trail of blood across the road. People nosily gathered around the drama, but nobody had offered to help him.

  Mason seized this opportunity to catch up as he saw Anarchy stop by the wall. Exhausted, he struggled to raise the Beretta. ‘This is the end.’

  Panting, wincing at the gushing hole in his leg, Anarchy looked up.

  Why is he still grinning?!

  ‘Is it?’ Anarchy said. ‘Or have you just passed one of many tests?’

  The crowd was growing around them now, a couple of people on the phone to the police. Mason cautiously stepped forward into the ring of people. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I’m not going to stop, Mr Black. You can pin whatever you want on me, but if I went to jail, I’d only get out and find you.’

  Mason lowered the gun just a little, thinking about Amy. Would she be hurt in due course? Would Diane? He couldn’t let that happen again. Too much had happened to them, and if this guy wouldn’t stop, then there was only one thing to do.

  But could he do it? After trying so hard not to be that man again?

  Bill was on the scene now, moving everybody away and explaining that Mason was a private investigator, and that Anarchy was a known killer. Only, he was just a little too late.

  Anarchy grabbed a nearby woman, holding her in front of him like a human shield. His forearm was pressed firmly against her throat, and her face reddened as she struggled to break free. When he pulled the knife from his pocket and put it to her neck, the crowd gasped.

  ‘Stop,’ Mason said urgently, raising the gun again.

  ‘Too many people are dying, Mr Black. Don’t you think?’ He shifted uncomfortably, his leg obviously causing massive discomfort. ‘It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, but you look like you’ve seen enough. How about you put the gun down, and I won’t pierce this poor lady’s jugular, hmm?’

  It was tempting, if not just to see the woman freed. But Mason didn’t think for a second that it would play out like that. Instead, he took one step closer, tightening his grip on the gun. ‘I’m giving you a chance. Put the knife down right now, and no more harm will come to you.’

  ‘Ever the gentleman.’ Anarchy was sweating madly now, nervously looking around the crowd and pressing his ass to the wall. ‘I’m only giving you three more seconds and I–’

  Mason took the shot.

  The bullet pierced the air and hit Anarchy in the chest. The woman, upon being released, ran to the safety of her family, shedding tears.

  As Mason watched Anarchy – the terrorist, the killer – reach for his chest, he noted the look of surprise in his eyes. They were wide with shock, but… he was still laughing. Mason would never forget it. Nor would he forget that, despite promising to himself that he would never kill again, he had done only what he’d needed to do.

  In the back of his mind, he could almost hear Evie approve.

  85

  One in the leg, one in the chest.

  Anarchy stumbled backward, tumbling over the wall and hitting the water with a splash. Tough as it seemed, he tried desperately to paddle, to stay afloat, but his wounds wouldn’t allow him the movement. Even the nearby rocks seemed miles away now.

  Water filled his mouth. It was salty, putrid and cold. He coughed and choked, barely able to breathe as the sea consumed him in one thirsty gulp, offering him a final resting place.

  So much pain. So much cold. Those were his last thoughts as the water took him.

  86

  There had been far too many uncertainties. Each time Mason encountered a new problem, it had always been left unresolved. This would not be one of them.

  Without paying any thought to it whatsoever, he dropped the Beretta and dived in after Anarchy. The harsh chill of the water hit him immediately, as if to poke at his every muscle. It was like acupuncture, if acupuncture were undeniably bad for you.

  Mason felt around with his eyes closed. It would have been hard enough to see through the murky water even in daylight, but the dark of the night blinded him entirely.

  Where the hell are you?

  Kicking his legs wildly, Mason breast-stroked beneath the surface. To his left were the jagged rocks of the bay, and to the right, an entire ocean through which the madman could be drifting. But dead or alive, he wanted to find him – he had to, if only for the peace of mind.

  Mason nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the firm grasp around his arms. He was being pulled upward, the strong hands hauling his bulk of weight from under his armpits. He began to squirm, losing the hold on his breath. Everything was out of his control.

  Then, as if to pull him from a haunting dream, he broke the surface. Bill – whose hands were still on him as he lay with his belly on the rocks – gave him a tip of the head. ‘It’s over, pal.’

  Mason pulled away and clung to the rocks, sucking in deep breaths of air. ‘Did you see him? Did Anarchy come back up?’

  Bill shook his head, seemingly disappointed. ‘No.’

  ‘Then he could be–’ Out there, he wanted to add. Only, as he tried to pull away, Bill latched onto him once more, a stern and cold stare bursting from his eyes.

  ‘It’s over. Just let it go, buddy.’

  ‘But I–’

  ‘Let. It. Go. You could barely move down there, by the looks of it. Imagine if you had two bullet wounds.’ He pulled Mason up gently, a large torrent of water splashing onto the rocks. ‘The Coast Guard will keep an eye out. All you can do is wait.’

  Mason hated to think that this was the end. He knew his luck, and it wasn’t likely that he would be let off easy. On the other hand, however, maybe it was his turn for things to go uphill. It would be about time, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Come on,’ Bill said, lowering his tone as he offered an outstretched hand. ‘Let’s get you a towel.’

  87

  When Mason arrived at the police station, he was greeted at the front desk by Diane
and Amy. They enveloped him in hugs, presumably having been filled in on the night’s events. It was great to see them too, after having used them – essentially – as bait.

  ‘Is it over?’ Diane asked, hushing the whisper into his ear.

  Good question. Mason nodded anyway. At some point, he would have to give in to Bill’s suggestion of putting it in the past. After all, it wasn’t like he could spend the rest of his life wondering.

  Bill was there to escort them all through the station, where they could all give official statements and finally put this case to rest. As they passed through, Mason received a round of applause (although he didn’t feel as though it were deserved). Some patted him on the back, others offered a handshake. He politely accepted all, while Amy looked up at him with a smile of adoration. She looked proud, but she shouldn’t have.

  Mason pulled out chairs for his ladies and sat between the two. He leaned over the desk, handing back the wet towel. ‘Thanks, Bill.’

  ‘No problem. How are you feeling about all of this?’

  ‘Tired,’ Mason said, still uneasy about being on this side of the desk. ‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get on with the statements and go home.’

  Amy eagerly nodded her agreement.

  ‘Actually, that’s not in my hands,’ said Bill.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I can take statements from these two, but the FBI want to speak to you. And to be honest, they don’t seem entirely happy with you.’

  Mason grunted. ‘Because we did the job that they couldn’t.’

  ‘Likely.’

  It was like their ears had been burning. A suited man – relatively young to have a job at the Bureau – approached the desk. His blonde hair was slicked back, and he was putting an awful lot of effort into looking serious. ‘Mr Black, we’d like you to come with us, sir.’

  Amy shot up from her chair. ‘He’s not going anywhere. He did nothing wrong!’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Mason stood, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. ‘This won’t take too long, will it?’

  The agent shook his head, showed Mason toward the interrogation room (as if he had no idea that he’d once been a detective in this very building) and closed the door.

  Mason looked at the empty chair. This time, he would be the one interviewed, and not a single thing about it seemed right to him.

  88

  The man had introduced himself as Agent Thomas Kane and, after ushering Mason into a seat, had begun his relentless assault of questions.

  Mason had remained calm, explaining the entirety of the situation in full. There were a couple of misplaced details – some of which were deliberately so – and a couple of lies where they’d needed to be told. Evie, for instance, was left out of the equation; the last thing Mason wanted was the Feds at her door.

  ‘Mr Black, you can see why this might pose as something of a problem for us.’ Agent Kane leaned forward, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin upon them. It was purely for show, Mason suspected. ‘We were tracking him, following his movements until we had the perfect opportunity to strike. Instead, we have a team fishing for his body.’

  Mason gritted his teeth. ‘When he was in my home, with my family, was that not the perfect opportunity? Did you even know he was going there?’

  ‘We would have if you’d have told us.’

  ‘No. We acted how we had to act. If you’d have been involved, he would have seen you coming from a mile off, and he’d have chosen some other way to get to us.’

  ‘We told you all to stay away from this because–’

  Mason slammed his fist on the table, turning it into a pointed finger. ‘I don’t give a rat’s ass what you told us. There was a killer – a terrorist – in my home, due to your incompetence. I handled it, and now you’re looking for just one corpse, rather than three.’ He had to get out of there before his emotions turned to physical practice. Spinning out of his chair, he went for the door. But he only made it two feet before he heard something else – something that made his nerves rattle.

  ‘Of course, it’s not the first time you’ve taken matters into your own hands, is it?’

  Mason stopped, turned. Does he mean…

  ‘Yeah.’ Agent Kane nodded slowly, a sly grin creeping onto his lips. ‘You never did find Marvin Wendell, did you? It seems funny to me that you – a man of such determination – would give up so easily.’

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means I’m on to you, Mr Black, and I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.’

  Mason could barely believe what he was hearing. Did the FBI agent really have something on him, or was it entirely made up of suspicion? Regardless, there was nothing he could do, save for watch what he talked about out loud. ‘Sorry,’ he said, opening the door, ‘your threats don’t mean shit to me. There’s nothing you can do that I haven’t already survived.’ With that, he slammed the door and stood blankly in the hallway.

  How much does he know? Mason never had found out if he was in the clear or not. But there was one thing he was absolutely sure of; he would have to tread lightly, or risk being brought down for his past sins.

  89

  Captain Leanne Cox swept by him almost instantly, taking his arm and leading him into her office. ‘Come. Sit,’ she said, and he obeyed immediately. ‘Fill me in.’

  Mason told her about his statement, and of the threats made toward him. As uncomfortable as it felt to discuss the Lullaby Killer with her, he at least knew that there were no more secrets between them.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about the FBI,’ Cox said, reclining in her chair and accommodating the gunshot wound in her leg. ‘There’s nothing we can do about it now. Anarchy is in their hands, whether he’s dead or not.’

  ‘He’s dead,’ Mason said firmly.

  ‘Then you definitely have nothing to worry about.’ Cox sighed, stood and walked around the desk. When she shoved some paperwork aside and perched in its place, she lowered her voice significantly. ‘Keep your distance from the case, don’t mention Wendell – either of them – and just keep your head down.’

  It felt wrong, somehow. It felt… dirty. Like there was something he was supposed to attend, but he had sent a replacement instead. Anarchy had been his own problem, and he had wanted to see it through to the end. ‘What of Shaun Chambers?’

  ‘His story checks out. He had a girlfriend and stepson in the Bay Area. They were just found in a nearby warehouse.’

  ‘Alive?’

  Captain Cox’s eyes narrowed, and her lips curved into a frown. She shook her head. ‘All the same, he confessed to setting the chemicals at your daughter’s school. He’ll be tried and jailed, just like anyone else would.’

  ‘That seems unfair.’

  ‘Yes. But you can’t win ‘em all. All you can do is your best.’

  Mason knew it, too. After all his years as a homicide detective – and latterly a private investigator – he was well aware of the concept of effort. He also knew everything there was to know about karma, and how much of an ugly bitch it really was.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Cox said, returning to her chair. ‘We’ll handle everything.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘The SFPD.’

  Mason shifted uncomfortably, picking at his nails. ‘And about your offer…’

  ‘It still stands.’

  It was perhaps the hardest part of his day, but it was time he gave an answer. For better or worse, the decision had been made. All he wanted was to know that whatever he said wouldn’t be final, and that he still had at least a little control over his life. ‘I’ll take the job.’

  It was as if Cox had known what he would say. She leaned into the desk door by her feet, producing a cheap bottle of champagne and two flutes. She popped the cork into her own hand and filled the bubbles to the brims of the glasses.

  ‘Lanson?’ Mason said, taking one of the flutes.

  ‘I’m not made of money.’ Cox smiled
and raised the glass. ‘Welcome back to the San Francisco Police Department… Detective Black.’

  90

  The celebrations didn’t end there. A week later at Diane’s – which was now Mason’s and Diane’s – a crowd of police officers had gathered for drinks. Their home was filled up of people talking in small groups, while eighties music played from the kitchen.

  ‘Want to try a small sip of whiskey?’ Mason asked, leaning the tumbler toward Amy.

  She shook her head, poking her tongue out in an exaggerated look of disgust.

  ‘You don’t want to drink?’

  ‘Never,’ she said, before one of her friends came out of nowhere and carried her off to whatever drama was happening in the next room.

  Diane appeared immediately at his side, looping her arm under his and kissing him softly on the cheek. She looked beautiful in her red dress – it complimented her shade of lipstick perfectly. ‘Detective Black, hey?’

  ‘It’s not permanent.’

  ‘Whatever,’ she said, smiling and running a finger playfully down his chest. She bit her lip then and looked directly into his eyes. ‘Does this mean you get a set of handcuffs?’

  ‘You’ll soon see.’ Mason laughed as he kissed her.

  But something seemed off. Commotion came from the other side of the living room, and one of the police officers loudly exclaimed: ‘What is this?’

  Mason excused himself from Diane’s embrace and made his way into the growing crowd. He studied the concerned faces, each looking toward the other and expecting them to fill him in. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘There was a note in the pizza box,’ Sergeant Pierz – an old friend – explained.

  ‘I didn’t order any pizza.’ Mason moved around his new colleagues and came to the open pizza box. As he read the message, written in black marker on the inside of the lid, he felt his world spin out of control.

  ‘You okay, Mason?’ A woman’s voice, coming from behind.