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

by Adam Nicholls

He took one last look at the monitors, which showed nothing more than the detective sleeping, and switched them off. He had been hoping for more, but there was no reason to rush this. Besides, there were other people to torment while he waited for the right moment to attack Mason Black.

  Rubbing his eyes, Anarchy took a knife from the kitchen block and headed back to the bedroom. The next thing he did would not only save him a large sum of cash, but also scratch that little itch of his. After all, the police and the pimps would be looking for Jacob Silver, while Anarchy stayed at large.

  6

  The night staff was still on duty when Mason arrived at his desk. For hours he just sat there, staring at the pen he twirled between his fingers, doing his best to formulate some kind of plan. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or maybe his thirst to put a bullet between Anarchy’s eyes, but he just couldn’t concentrate.

  Two long, sleep-deprived hours passed. Mason still hadn’t moved, and his colleagues were entering the building ready to start the day. Captain Cox stepped out of the elevator, carrying an old-fashioned leather brown satchel in her hand.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ she asked, standing over him.

  ‘Long enough.’

  ‘Well, are you all right?’

  Mason afforded her the smallest of glances. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  As the homicide team gradually assembled, Captain Leanne Cox leaned into his ear and whispered, ‘Can I speak to you alone for a moment?’

  Without question, Mason rose to his feet and followed her into her office. The moment the door shut, he felt a huge wave of relief. In here, he could act like himself. In here, he didn’t have to put on a brave face, the face of a leader.

  ‘Drink?’

  ‘Under the circumstances, I’d usually cave in,’ Mason said, wishing he could just give up already. ‘But I need to stay sharp.’

  Captain Cox sat down in her chair, watching him from across the desk. Then, as if she had seen enough, she began to unpack her satchel, stuffing wads of paper into her desk drawers. ‘I feel as though I should tell you something.’

  Mason’s pulse quickened. Very few people had more secrets than a police captain. ‘What is it?’

  She produced a thin folder, slid it across the desk and waved an inviting hand at it. ‘There have been some sightings of this Anarchy character in Los Angeles. I thought they were hoaxes until now – still do, to some degree – but I guess you have a right to know.’

  Feeling his blood boil, Mason reached for the folder and flicked through the papers inside. It was mostly comprised of amateur photographs, witness statements and information on all possible victims linked to the suspect. But what stole most of his attention was the date stamp at the top of the documents. ‘These are from February.’

  ‘Yes, I didn’t quite know how to tell you.’

  ‘You…’ Mason closed the folder. ‘You didn’t know how? Cap, my girlfriend is in the hospital. The knife went through her back, missing our unborn baby by a half-inch. And you’re sitting here telling me that you’ve known about this guy for eight months?’

  ‘Watch your tone,’ Captain Cox snapped.

  ‘No, I have every right to speak out.’ Mason flung the folder across the desk and shot to his feet. The chair toppled over behind him, but he headed straight for the door. ‘Next time something like this happens, try taking a moment to talk about it, for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘Don’t you walk out of here.’

  ‘Go to hell.’ He slammed the door behind him. Before he knew it, he was walking through the department and getting into the elevator. Mason was vaguely aware of his name being called, but he couldn’t go back. How was he supposed to forgive her after this? If she had said something sooner, his family might not be in danger.

  There was no other option now. He had to do something, with or without the help of the SFPD. And if going against Captain Cox was the only way to do that, then so be it. Anarchy had to be stopped, and now it began to look like nobody else gave a shit.

  7

  The elevator pinged and Mason marched out. He got as far as his car, even as close as touching the handle, before he stopped to consider his actions. Had he just lost his job? If he hadn’t, he was bound to be in trouble for having yelled at Cox like that. But if he had, his plan for vigilante justice would make more enemies than friends.

  Before he could make a decision, he slid into the driver’s seat and made a phone call to a randomly selected police precinct in LA. The polite receptionist asked him to hold, before she connected him to a different precinct.

  ‘Captain Waltenbaugh speaking.’

  Mason froze. Why would they connect me to the captain? ‘Good morning. This is Homicide Detective Mason Black calling from the SFPD. Some news has been brought to my attention involving the Anarchy case. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sending me some information?’

  A pause.

  ‘Sir?’

  The captain whispered something to a colleague, and then returned to the phone. ‘Who did you say was calling?’ he asked in that deep, authoritative voice.

  ‘Detective Mason Black.’

  ‘Well, Detective, I’m obligated to inform you that the case is being overseen by the FBI. I have an Agent Thomas Kane here, who says he is aware of your situation. Is that correct?’

  The name meant nothing at first, until Mason thought back to when he had last stopped a serial killer. Agent Kane had made it clear that he had an eye on Mason, but nothing more had been said ever since. That was two years ago, and Mason only recalled it now. ‘I suppose it is, yes.’

  ‘Okay then. We have Detective Phillips working the case. I’ll have her fax it over.’

  Mason began to panic. If they faxed it, it would arrive at the office. At this point, he didn’t even know if he would be welcome there any time soon. ‘Actually, could you get my email address from the system and send it there instead? I’m out on duty at the moment.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  After hanging up, Mason tapped his cell phone against the wheel. Hopefully, the email would come through soon enough. When it did, he would need an hour or so to go through it, but until then he had another call to make.

  Unsure if this was his best course of action, he dialled a different number. This time, his heart skipped a beat with each ring of the phone.

  Please, he thought as panic reared up and threatened to choke him.

  Please answer.

  8

  He paused to relish the poetry of the situation. Lurking. Standing inside the house of the man he was going to kill. The man who had been on the hunt for him, before the tables had turned. Anarchy savoured every moment of his intrusion, wondering for a minute what it would be like if he really were Mason Black.

  It was a pitiful existence really, doting on that bitch woman of his, raising that goody two-shoes daughter and solving crimes one at a time. Where was the fun? Where was the chaos, the mayhem – the… well, the anarchy?

  Sitting in Mason’s favourite armchair, he looked around the room with disgust. Everything was so neatly ornamented, so hideously cliché. If he hadn’t hated the detective already, he sure would after being inside this craphole for any length of time. Insufferable.

  A sudden knock rang out from the front door.

  Anarchy froze. It wasn’t the family – they would use a key. So who, then?

  He rubbed his hands together. A fly was caught in his web.

  An idea floated across his consciousness, something fun. Anarchy took the Swiss army knife from his pocket and flipped open the blade. Gripping it tightly behind his back, he approached the front door and opened it, ready to see Mason’s partner, or sister, or anyone he would get a kick out of slicing up and throwing to the floor to bleed out like human roadkill.

  But he didn’t recognise this man.

  ‘Hey,’ the guy said. He was all of five-five with two extra chins and greasy skin. Suspicious, he peered past Anarchy and into t
he dark emptiness of the house. ‘Is, uh… Is Mason in?’

  ‘Not right now,’ Anarchy told him, forcing his best smile. Meanwhile, he itched to use his knife. He salivated over the thought. ‘I’m house-sitting for a couple of days. Come on in, if you like. I could offer you a coffee or something.’

  The man relaxed, and then held out a handful of letters. ‘It’s okay. The mailman delivered to the wrong address again. Just thought I would swing by and hand these over.’ He took a moment, his fat cheeks turning red in the cold. ‘Could you tell him I came by? I need to talk to him about the fence out back.’

  ‘Of course,’ Anarchy said, taking the mail. ‘Sure I can’t interest you in that coffee?’

  ‘I have to work. Thanks though. It was nice meeting you.’

  ‘You too.’ He closed the door and tossed the letters onto the floor. Ahhh, so close, he thought, folding the knife away and stowing it in his breast pocket. If he had taken the kill, it might have been a nice surprise, although it wasn’t a part of the plan.

  The downside was that the neighbour had seen him, and it could get back to Mason quite easily. Anarchy would just have to make sure he didn’t come by here again, but he supposed it didn’t matter. As soon as this was over – as soon as Anarchy took his vengeance for Mason letting him fall into the water – there would be nothing left to care about.

  9

  Detective Bill Harvey opened the front door to his home, and Mason invited himself in. ‘Thanks for seeing me on your day off,’ he said, shutting the door behind him.

  Bill tightened his robe, folding his arms over his chest. ‘What’s this about?’

  Mason, cell phone in hand with the LAPD email open, went into the living room and gave him the short version of what was going on. He was careful not to omit the part about him shouting at Captain Cox.

  ‘Honestly?’ Bill rubbed his chin, sitting back on the couch. ‘I think the best thing you can do is hold back a bit. You know the SFPD have your back, and you have bigger things to worry about, what, with Diane in hospital and all.’

  ‘I’m not going to “hold back”, Bill.’

  ‘That’s just my advice.’

  Mason stared at him, anger coursing through his veins, his breathing becoming deep and heavy. ‘It’s nice to see you so relaxed. You know, you weren’t this carefree back when you wanted Marvin Wendell off the streets. But of course, that was about you, right?’

  Bill’s eyes widened at the very mention of that name. It was Wendell – otherwise known as the Lullaby Killer – who had murdered Bill’s son. When he had begged for Mason’s return to the investigation, they had worked together to find vengeance. ‘Don’t say that name to me, pal. Not in my home.’

  Mason sat across from him then, leaning forward onto his knees. ‘All I want is one favour. Look after my girls while I go away for a few days. Keep an eye on Diane and call me if anything changes.’

  Bill blew out a long breath. ‘And Amy?’

  ‘Let her stay here for a couple of days.’

  The room fell silent for nearly a whole minute. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked its displeasure while Bill remained deep in his own thoughts. Finally, he looked up from the carpet and nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay?’ Mason felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders.

  ‘Yeah, sure. Whatever you need. But what are you going to do?’

  Mason stood then, buttoning up his trench coat. ‘I’m going to Los Angeles.’

  ‘You mean… on business?’

  ‘Unofficially. If Cox asks where I am, tell her you don’t know. In the meantime, I have some leads to pursue.’ Mason returned to the front door, and Bill tailed him. ‘There’s a chance that Anarchy might do something while I’m gone. Hell, he might even follow me back there. I hope that’s the case. But if he doesn’t–’

  ‘I’ll protect them, buddy. With everything I’ve got.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Just one question,’ Bill said, stopping him halfway out the door. ‘What happens after this? I mean, say you stop this asshole and Diane pulls through. What happens then?’

  Mason paused for a beat. ‘I don’t know. But I won’t be coming back to the force. This is my final case.’ He turned on his heel and, without saying goodbye, drove the Mustang up the road. LA was maybe five hours away, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

  10

  After a long and stressful drive down a busy highway, Mason arrived in Los Angeles in the middle of a windy afternoon. The Clemente station was easy enough to find, thanks to his cell phone’s built-in GPS system. Parking, on the other hand, was something of a challenge. Since he wasn’t officially with the LAPD, he had no access to the parking lot and the nearest available spot loomed six blocks over.

  Tired and wired, Mason entered the station and introduced himself to the officer at the front desk. He explained his situation and was shown through the sleek, well-designed building, admiring the marble pillars and stained-glass windows.

  ‘Here we are,’ the cop said, knocking on a door and letting him in.

  ‘Thanks.’

  The door shut behind Mason, and he stood in the captain’s office. The air was stuffy with an overpowering cologne to mask the smell of cigar smoke, which he probably shouldn’t have been smoking. The captain himself was a black, burly man with a strong jaw. His sleeves were rolled up to his thick biceps, revealing military tattoos on his forearms.

  ‘Take a seat,’ the captain said.

  Mason didn’t hesitate. He sat down and introduced himself.

  ‘I know who you are. We spoke on the phone earlier.’

  ‘That much I figured,’ Mason said, looking around the office. ‘Captain Brian Waltenbaugh, was it?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Waltenbaugh put his fingertips together, forming an arch under his chin. ‘Look, I know this situation has a personal significance to you, but I want you to understand something right now; I can only allow you so much leeway.’

  Mason adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. ‘I only ask so much. That said, I came here because I want to help, not to be an inconvenience. If there’s anything you want me to do in particular, just say the word and I’m on it.’ He leaned forward, all of his seriousness put into the speech as he tapped on the desk with a pointed finger. ‘But one way or another, I’m going to catch this guy. You can trust me on that.’

  A faint smile crept onto Waltenbaugh’s mouth, and then he finally showed his teeth as that smile widened. He looked over Mason’s head, beckoned to somebody and then relaxed in his chair. ‘I do trust you. Now, I need to get some forms to your own captain to make this temporary transfer official, but until then I will be pairing you up with our own detective on the case.’

  Mason began to panic. The idea that Captain Cox would receive a transfer request worried him. There were laws against his actions, and they would catch him violating protocol for sure. He only hoped that it would take long enough so that he could find Anarchy before he found his ass in a sling.

  The door clicked open behind Mason, and a dark-haired woman walked in. She looked to be in her thirties, her black pantsuit lending humble attention to her nimble frame. ‘You wanted to see me?’ she said to the captain.

  ‘Yes. Meet Mason Black, your partner for the next couple of days. He’s the assigned detective in San Francisco, looking for that creep of yours.’

  Mason stood, buttoned his jacket as a sign of respect, and offered his hand… but she only glanced at it briefly, dismissing him, before turning back to Waltenbaugh with the look of a grumpy teenager. ‘I don’t need a partner. You promised me I can do this alone.’

  ‘Well,’ said Waltenbaugh, ‘Now I’m unpromising. Circumstances have changed.’

  The woman sighed and walked out.

  Mason looked to the captain, who only shrugged. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and followed after the woman before she slipped from view. They made it all the way outside before he could catch up to her, both taking long strides. By the time they
stopped outside the station, Mason panted but the woman seemed fine. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘I didn’t give it.’ She stopped and turned to face him. ‘Look, no disrespect intended, but I don’t really need you here. My hands are full and I have no time to take on a trainee.’

  Mason reared back. ‘Who said anything about a trainee?’

  ‘Well, fine, you might be well-trained, but you don’t know this guy like I do,’ she said. A car sped past and she kept her eye on it, like a paranoid dog guarding the front door. ‘I’ve been studying this guy’s movements for a while, and trust me, you’re better off out of it.’

  Mason’s hand shot out, grabbing the woman’s arm before she could turn. ‘You listen to me, lady. This guy has been in my home, threatened my family, terrorised my daughter’s school, and put a knife in my pregnant girlfriend’s back. You may know his movements a little more than I do, but I have a one-to-one relationship with this monster. Now, I came here to help stop the guy, and like it or not, we’re stuck together.’

  The woman’s mouth hung open in shock. ‘So, you’re the one.’

  ‘The one what?’

  ‘You’re the detective who put a bullet in him. From Frisco, right?’

  Mason winced at the word. ‘San Francisco,’ he corrected.

  She stared at him for a moment, looking as though she wanted to say something. Her mouth even opened a little before she closed it again, shook her head and finally spoke. ‘Detective Jane Phillips. That’s my name. Now look, if you want to work alongside me, that’s fine. But I hope you brought your big-boy pants.’

  Mason held back a smile, admiring this woman’s stubbornness. ‘Why?’

  ‘Latest reports put Anarchy at a drug den in the west end. There could be trouble and we’ll be outnumbered. Stay or come along, that’s up to you, but don’t go getting us both killed. Got it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Mason followed her to the car and climbed into the passenger seat. Somehow he knew that Anarchy wouldn’t be at the drug den. But if they could find anything that might teach them a bit more about him, then that was a start.