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

by Adam Nicholls

  ‘Loft,’ Mason said, taking the stairs two at a time. He was desperate to find something – anything. This was their last hope before the trail ran cold, and if nothing came of it then Anarchy would be lost forever.

  They found a small set of wooden steps leading to a closed door. No noises came from the room behind, but a light flashed underneath. It was like that of a TV, as if somebody had fallen asleep in front of it.

  Jane pointed at her chest and then the door. Silently mouthing the countdown, she showed three fingers, then two. One. When she closed her fist, they sprung open the door and stormed inside.

  What they saw would change everything.

  Mason, his hands trembling and his mouth open in awe, holstered his gun and looked around. Surrounding all four walls were photographs, strung up as if it were some kind of display. Within those photos were Mason and Diane.

  ‘It’s you,’ Jane said.

  But Mason remained silent. The photos had been taken from outside a window, by the looks of it. One depicted Amy’s recent birthday, with him and Diane standing behind her. Another was a reminder of only last week, when Diane had packed her bag to leave town for a few days. It sent a chill vibrating down his spine, and made him worry about her all over again.

  ‘I have a DVD.’

  Mason turned then. It was as if he had entered the room all over again, suddenly noticing the flashing TV static, the singular armchair in the centre of the room. Jane leaned into the DVD player and slid a disc inside.

  ‘Shouldn’t we hand that straight over as evidence?’ he asked.

  ‘Without knowing what’s on it?’ Jane carried on, hitting the button and waiting for it to show something useful.

  Mason folded his arms. Watching. Waiting. Nothing good could come of this, he knew. So when the image of a crying woman tied to a chair appeared on screen, it came as no surprise. But that didn’t seem to keep him from feeling sick.

  ‘Say your name,’ came a voice from behind the camera. Mason recognised it immediately – it was Andrew Clay’s. Anarchy’s.

  ‘My name,’ the woman sobbed, ‘is Samantha Cole.’

  ‘Tell us a bit about yourself.’

  The camera zoomed in and blurred, before focusing on a close-up of her face. Her eye was swollen and blood stained her upper lip. She looked sweet, defenceless. Completely unable to help herself out of this madness. ‘I have a husband, three kids.’

  ‘Go on…’ Andrew Clay said calmly, as if he wasn’t tormenting a woman on film.

  Samantha sobbed, shaking her head and cried harder. ‘Please.’

  ‘Fine, maybe there is something you would like to say to your family?’

  ‘I… I love you all so much. If you ever get to see this, you should–’

  A gunshot startled Mason, and he noticed Jane jump too. On the screen, Samantha Cole’s head flung back. Blood exploded from the wound, splattering over the lens. Andrew Clay laughed aloud, that creepy sound, terrifying Mason all over again.

  And then the screen faded to black.

  ‘We have to hand this in,’ Mason said, taking a bag from the inside pocket of his coat. He put his hand in and turned it outward, picking up the disc without touching it. ‘This bastard is all over the place. Anything we can take from here, we should do it.’

  Jane stood frozen, her face turning white.

  ‘Hey, come on. We’re doing the best we can.’

  After a little hesitation, Mason ushered her outside. The only thing he could think to do was hand this over to the captain and check up on Diane. Outside of that, he had no idea how he was going to find this lunatic.

  From around the corner, two police cars sped in and skidded to a stop. The stink of hot rubber filled the air, two black Mercedes pulled in behind them, and Captain Waltenbaugh tumbled out of one of them. Sweat broke out across his brow as he marched toward them.

  ‘I want to see you both back at the station. Now.’

  Mason looked over his shoulder, seeing suited men climbing out of the cars. He recognised one of them immediately – Agent Thomas Kane of the FBI, who looked right at him. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Just get in the car, detective.’

  Jane looked at him with a total absence of understanding, then put a hand on Mason’s shoulder and walked with him. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but if the FBI were here then it could only mean trouble.

  17

  The door slammed shut behind them, and Captain Waltenbaugh began yelling immediately. Mason had seen his fair share of overly angry superiors, but even this made him jump out of his skin.

  ‘Do you two have any idea how much trouble you got me in? FBI agents have been on my case, and now Internal Affairs has questioned my loyalty to the LAPD. I almost lost my job over this bullshit.’

  ‘With all due respect,’ Jane said, ‘you didn’t have to do this. It was your decision.’

  Waltenbaugh slammed his hand on the desk, his nostrils flaring and his breathing heavy. ‘And who talked me into it?’ He pointed his finger only inches from her face. ‘And that DVD! That doesn’t even belong to us now. So you can consider yourself removed from this investigation.’

  ‘Cap–’

  ‘It’s not her fault,’ Mason stepped in. ‘I’m the one who dragged her down the rabbit hole. Detective Phillips was just doing her job. As for the disc, I watched it on the DVD player at Andrew Clay’s house. I’ll give a full report of what I saw.’

  Captain Waltenbaugh turned for only an instant, a shattering comment coming out in a short breath. ‘I’ll deal with you in a minute – going renegade. What the hell were you thinking?’

  ‘What?’ Jane turned to Mason then, her disappointment obvious.

  ‘Oh, what a surprise, he didn’t tell you.’ Waltenbaugh walked around his desk, leaning his shoulder against the wall as he stared out of the window with despair. ‘Detective Black here has been suspended. He’s here unofficially. At least that’s what his captain said when she called this morning.’

  Mason felt Jane’s eyes on him. This wasn’t going how he had expected at all. Really, he’d been hoping for some kind of resolution today. Only now it was all falling apart. ‘I was going to tell you,’ he said. ‘But I had to–’

  Jane snapped her head around and went for the door. ‘Fuck you both.’

  ‘Detective!’ the captain yelled, turning back from the window. ‘You’ve just earned yourself a suspension of your own. Like you weren’t on thin enough ice already, you had to go and talk to me like that. Leave your gun and badge on my desk, then get out of my sight.’

  Not without sighing, Jane obeyed her final order and left them alone.

  ‘And you…’

  ‘Captain, I’m sorry I did what I did. Truly, I am. But you have to understand–’

  ‘Your personal vendetta? I knew you seemed too good to be true.’

  Mason stood in silence. What could he say to make this all okay? What could he do to prove that he was of use here, even if it looked like he was nothing but a problem?

  ‘Do yourself a favour, Mr Black, and go back to San Francisco. Nobody wants you here.’

  18

  The intention was to call Bill and check up on Diane, so when the phone rang while in his own hand and Bill’s name flashed up on screen, Mason stabbed the red button with his pointer.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked, dreading the news. His mind went straight to Diane.

  ‘Hello to you, too,’ Bill said sarcastically.

  ‘Is Diane okay?’

  ‘She’s fine.’

  ‘Is Amy okay?’ It was hard not to assume the worst, especially when a killer held a grudge. ‘Seriously Bill, you’d better hurry up and get to your–’

  ‘They’re fine, pal.’ Bill huffed in the phone. ‘Chill out. I was just calling to find out what’s going on with you. Anarchy is all over the news. Or rather, Andrew Clay is.’

  Mason took a deep breath, adjusting himself to a calmer frame of mind. One eye kept glancing over his shoulder
and looking up the street – a habit he had picked up only lately. A hazard of being hunted by a psychopath. ‘You heard about that, huh?’

  ‘And then some. Cox is pretty pissed at you, as well.’

  ‘She’s always pissed at someone.’

  ‘No,’ Bill said. ‘She’s pissed. There’s talk of firing you.’

  Like I give a shit. Once this bastard is in a cage where he belongs, I’m out of there. It was as if his mind was being made up for him. A change of direction was long overdue, especially as the danger had come to roost on his own doorstep. ‘I’ll live.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’

  Mason stood quietly for a minute. Something was on Bill’s mind – Mason had known him too long not to pick up on it – but for some reason he refused to say it.

  ‘Just spit it out,’ Mason said.

  Bill snickered under his breath. ‘I didn’t tell you this, but Andrew Clay was spotted at a gas station not far from you. The call went through to the LAPD while Cox was on the phone to them. I’ll text you the details.’

  Mason trotted toward his car before he even realised he was doing it. ‘When was this exactly?’

  ‘A half-hour ago, maybe. Just remember, you didn’t hear it from me.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Mason fired up the engine of his car and punched it. Aware of the trouble he was already in, he drove to where he needed to be as fast as possible. It wasn’t the gas station he was going for, however. In fact, that was the second stop on his list.

  Parking with a screech, he got out of the car and rushed up the steps. A moment later, he banged on the door, waiting for former-detective Jane Phillips to answer. When she did, her clenched fists shook with rancor as she scowled down at him.

  ‘Don’t talk,’ Mason said, raising a hand in a defensive posture. ‘Just listen.’

  19

  They arrived at the gas station within thirty minutes. Whether or not Andrew Clay would still be there was up in the air, but if they didn’t try then they were assured of a negative outcome. Thankfully, Jane had followed him with very little persuasion, only now she was unarmed. If a Conceal and Carry permit was ever needed, now was the time.

  ‘Keep an eye out,’ Mason said as they searched through the windows of the parked vehicles. They were looking for a ’05 Pontiac, ocean blue.

  ‘I know what I’m doing,’ Jane said, trailing behind. ‘Besides, I’m still mad at you.’

  ‘Now isn’t the time to discuss that.’

  Jane began to protest, but Mason quickly grabbed her and threw her behind cover. She hit the tarmac with such force that her head slung back and hit the metal of a car, setting off the alarm. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘He’s here,’ Mason said, peering through the driver’s window of the car they were cowered behind.

  ‘Yeah, but I–’

  ‘No, Anarchy is here!’

  Jane’s eyes widened and she went for a gun. She must have only realised then that she had left it on Captain Waltenbaugh’s desk, as she struck her own knee and cursed.

  ‘Stay down.’ Mason crawled along the ground and leaned over the hood, the alarm still screeching out. His arms extended in front of his face, he shot at the window of the blue Pontiac. The glass shattered and rained into the car, revealing a surprised-looking Andrew Clay.

  ‘That you, detective?’ Clay said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  ‘You bet your ass,’ Mason shouted, keeping his head down. Finally, he was face-to-face with the monster again, but at least he knew that his family was safe back home. ‘Want to come out and taste a bullet?’

  ‘Nah, I’m on my way out. Stay cool, dee-tective!’

  Mason took his chance. As the car’s engine roared to life, he popped his head out and aimed at the tyre. He squeezed the trigger, and a second later the tyre exploded with a hissing sound. The car stopped, and passers-by began to scream.

  ‘What should I do?’ Jane asked, her face reddening.

  ‘Just stay down. Don’t be a hero.’

  Mason flew out from behind their cover, training his gun on the driver-side door. It should have come as no surprise, but Clay had vanished from the seat and the door hung wide open.

  A sudden piercing scream echoed from his left.

  Mason spun around to see Clay diving into a car and pulling on the driver’s blonde hair. The woman tried to pull away and wrangle free. But her efforts were futile.

  ‘Follow me and this woman will die!’ Clay yelled.

  Gunfire erupted from that same car, exploding in a tornado of sparks by Mason’s feet. Running for cover, he leapt back behind the car and threw himself on top of Jane, shielding her from the hail of bullets.

  Tyres screeched and the shooting stopped. Mason and Jane crawled out from behind the car and stood to assess the damage. Considering the nearby gas pumps, it was a wonder that none of them had created an explosion. Clay must have been in more of a rush than it seemed – a year ago he would have jumped at the chance of making some fireworks.

  ‘What do we do?’ Jane asked, raking her fingers through her hair.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do.’ Mason stowed his pistol and checked that the nearby drivers were okay. Sirens wailed in the distance, but they were too far behind, as usual.

  They’d had their chance to stop Anarchy, and they had blown it.

  20

  The LAPD had turned up late, taking witness statements and helping to clean up the mess. In their own best interests, Mason and Jane withheld a certain amount of information – it would soften the blow considerably to report it themselves.

  On the way back to the station, they had barely said a word. It was horribly uncomfortable, due in large part to Jane’s passive-aggressive silence. It wasn’t until they were three blocks away that she decided to speak her mind.

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’d been suspended?

  Mason shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, signalling and taking the corner. ‘I wasn’t even sure of it myself. I shouted at my captain, left the office and came here almost immediately.’

  Jane huffed and turned toward the window.

  ‘You never had to come along,’ Mason said.

  ‘It’s my job.’

  ‘But you take it so personally.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  Mason chose his words carefully. He knew he had made a mistake by not telling her the truth. On some level, perhaps he’d had a hand in getting her into trouble in the first place. ‘The first time we met, you were far too involved for it to just be professional. You were territorial, to say the least. If that doesn’t scream “personal investment”, I don’t know what does.’

  Jane glanced over at him, taking a breath. ‘You really want to know?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Fine. Last year, my best friend was gunned down in San Francisco. Minding his own business, he got on a tram to take his daughter ice-skating. Only he didn’t make it.’

  Mason bit his tongue.

  ‘Some asshole jumped on to the tram, shot him and left him for dead.’ Jane made a gun with her fingers, recoiling as if she’d fired it. ‘Right in front of his daughter. I’ll give you one guess as to the identity of the shooter.’

  But Mason knew damn well who’d done it. Anarchy. Mason had been on that tram himself, and wondered if Jane knew that. What had happened following the tram incident – Mason shooting Clay and sending him to his watery grave – must have hit the papers.

  ‘I get it,’ Mason told her, speaking carefully so as not to say the wrong thing. ‘It’s an act of vengeance. Clay has a habit of hurting people, leaving nothing but misery in his wake. It’s why you’re here, it’s why I’m here, and it’s why we need to work together.’

  Jane turned back to the window and sighed. ‘I guess you’re right.’

  ‘I know,’ Mason said, faking a smile.

  ‘Let’s just report this and get it over with.’

  ‘You’re sure you want to do this? It will l
and us in even more trouble.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jane let out another sigh. ‘But it’s the right thing to do.’

  Mason turned the car around the final corner, parking just up the street from the police station. Having some loose understanding of why Jane Phillips was so adamant about bringing down Clay, he had no problem standing by her side until the bitter end.

  What he hadn’t expected was for his phone to ring, with some of the worst news he’d ever had.

  21

  Andrew Clay looked over his shoulder, watching the gas station shrink in the distance. The woman beside him stayed quiet for the most part, driving and sobbing, probably scared to death. At least she wasn’t creating trouble – the gun had seen to that.

  A few blocks and ten minutes later, it was time to assume control of the vehicle. Clay eased off the gun a little, lowering it casually to point at her hip rather than her eye. ‘I need you to pull over, lady.’

  The woman nodded, her wobbling cheeks shedding tears. She checked her mirrors and stopped the car on the side of the road. As soon as the engine died, she looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Do you want to die today?’ Clay asked, playing with his prey.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Why do you want to live?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a simple question,’ Clay said, watching her tremble as he raised the gun again. ‘Tell me why you want to live, and we’ll see if it’s a good enough reason for me to let you go.’ Truth was, he didn’t really have time for this. But he simply couldn’t resist these little moments. After all, what was life without a little fun?

  ‘I… I love my family. I love my friends and sunsets and swimming and good wine.’ The woman rattled on, listing one random thing after another until her whining voice became nothing short of annoying.

  ‘All right, all right,’ Clay said. ‘Get the hell out.’

  The seatbelt shot out of its clip and she clumsily opened the door, pretty much falling out of the car onto the pavement. Andrew Clay shuffled over and settled into the driver’s seat, closed the door and started the engine. Within seconds he sped away, leaving the terrorised woman behind.