“So what the fuck am I going to do?” He whispered out loud to himself. He had no money and no transport. Without realising it he had turned around and walked past the house. Then he continued walking. Gradually it became lighter, cars and lorries drove past him, and he passed more houses until he reached a town sign, 'Welcome to Shillingham'. Freezing cold and utterly exhausted he stumbled into the small town centre and slumped wearily in a shop doorway resting his head against the glass, within seconds he was asleep in a dead faint.
*
Walther, London - 2000
Walther allowed his head to drop back onto the hospital pillow and let out a discontented sigh. He had just been interviewed by the police for the third time in as many days, they wanted to know where Richard was and why Susan was now missing. It was obvious that they did not believe him when he said he had no idea of the whereabouts of either of them, even though he was telling the literal truth. At first he was relieved to find out that Susan had been discharged from hospital with only superficial face wounds (they hadn't told him the exact nature of the lacerations) but he became more worried when the police revealed that she was officially ‘missing’. He became even more agitated when they informed him that Richard and Susan were both wanted ‘in connection’ with the death of someone named Smokey Dick, whose body was found to have traces of both Walther’s and Susan’s blood on it. It was obvious to the police that Smokey Dick was the one who had attacked Susan and Walther at her home, but what they could not work out was why he had done it and “Why did he turn up dead so soon afterwards?”
After the third interview Walther discharged himself from the hospital, the doctor called him a fool but was unable to stop him leaving. With his head stitched and bandaged and every muscle in his body aching, he walked painfully to the nearest Underground Station. He sat on the train not noticing the curious glances of the other passengers, locked in a world of guilt for allowing Richard and Susan to become involved, “I’ve been so stupid.” He berated himself while becoming more determined than ever to track down that angel of death called Eve.
He made his way across the city to Susan’s house where he’d left his car, he was relieved that it hadn’t been stolen or vandalised. He approached the front door to the house, the street was quiet and he could hear the phone ringing inside. It remained unanswered. He knocked on the door anyway, as he expected there was no answer so he quietly made his way around to the back of the house. He was astonished to find the back door unlocked. It had remained that way since Eve let herself out on the night of the attack. Cautiously Walther stepped inside, he walked slowly all over the house and could tell by the letters on the mat and the fine dust on places like the kettle and the toilet that no one had used the house for several days. He checked the wardrobes and noted that Susan’s underwear and most of her make-up were gone, he came to the conclusion that Susan had probably left of her own free will,
“But where are you now?” He asked himself. He stood still and closed his eyes, trying to put himself in her position. He remembered something she had said back on his father’s boat, “I just locked the door and never went back. It still belongs to me, but I don’t know what sort of state it’s in. All their research is still there. But don’t ask me to go and get it. I couldn’t.” He nodded in understanding,
“You've gone home, haven't you? After all this time you've decided to go back home to your parents house, to get help from mum and dad.” Remembering the conversation they had back on his boat, he knew that it must be very difficult for her to go back, instinctively he also knew that she would want to be left alone. He left the house and drove home to his boat in two minds about whether to try to contact her or not.
“No, she's far better off out of this horrible business, at least she's safe now.”
*
Sir Clive's House in the Countryside - 2000
The twins had discussed their failure to properly seduce Richard and agreed that wearing more make-up would probably do the trick. Painted like dolls they unlocked the door and marched proudly into Richard’s cell carrying his breakfast,
“You’ll never guess what happened last night.” Their cheerful words ended abruptly, with twin gasps they stopped dead, side by side, gazing at his empty bed. One head turned to the left as the other turned to the right searching the corners of the room, then both heads turned to face each other with identical looks of horror and confusion.
“He's...” The one started to say,
“Disappeared!” The other finished. The tray clattered to the floor, forgotten in the awful realisation that Richard had left them, tears streamed down their identical cheeks as they hugged each other for comfort, still stood in the middle of the little room. Some time later they realised that they should tell Eve that he'd gone,
“She'll kill us!” Pip protested.
“They'll put us in the Asylum!” Emm darkly reminded her. Then, together, without saying a word to each other, they crouched down and started to eat the mess of breakfast on the floor, each one taking it in turns to eat a piece of the cold food until it was all gone, then they drank the beer that they always brought for him, passing the bottle wordlessly between each other until it was empty. It was Emm who finally broke the silence,
“All gone! Richard seems to be getting quite an appetite these days!” She spoke to Pip as if Richard had eaten the breakfast, Pip replied,
“Yes, we shall have to speak to Cook about a larger portion for him!” The two mad girls collected up the things and left the room making sure that it was locked securely. They made every effort to avoid Eve over the next few days as they carried out their elaborate charade of pretending that Richard was still securely locked in his cell.
*
Cairo sat on the edge of the iron bed in Richard's attic room. The sawn-off handcuff was still attached. She slipped her hand inside, the metal felt cold and hard. She slipped out of it and rolled up her left sleeve. Then, from a pocket, she drew out the mother-of-pearl penknife she had stolen from the kitchen, opened out the blade, and drew it across her left forearm. The pain was exquisite. The blood beautiful. She held up her hand and watched it run down to her elbow and drip to the floor. And then she lay down and cried. Long silent sobs heard by nobody.
*
Richard, Shillingham - 2000
Richard woke with a start at the sound of a car horn, he shivered and blinked at the bright morning light noticing that there were pedestrians on the footpath and cars in the street. Shifting his cramped legs he knocked over a small pile of coins that were on the step beside him, he looked around in confusion until he heard a gentle tapping on the inside of the shop door behind him. He turned stiffly and saw an old lady peering at him through the glass, she pointed towards the coins and then made a 'shooing' gesture with her hands, Richard got the message and stood up. She had mistaken him for homeless and given him some money to go away, he picked up the coins and stumbled into the street.
After a few minutes walking Richard found what he was looking for; a public telephone. He dropped in some of the coins and dialled his home number, there was no answer. Next he dialled the office and was shocked to hear the ‘disconnected’ tone. In his mind he remembered Eve's parting words,
“Don't expect to see her pretty face again!” That was the moment when he realised that Susan really was gone, Eve had murdered her and boasted about it. A sudden rage overwhelmed him and he smashed the phone receiver against the wall, he kicked and punched the phone box tearing the skin off his knuckles until the frenzy was over. Staggering into the street he collided with another pedestrian, nearly knocking him over,
“Watch where you're fucking going!” He shouted, the other man walked away quickly, visibly nervous. Richard wanted to scream at everyone, to shout and punch their smug, fatuous faces. He stood swaying on the footpath, glowering at the passers-by, wishing that someone would pick a fight with him. Someone did. A large middle-aged uniformed policeman crossed the street and planted himself in
front of Richard. His hand rested lightly on his truncheon.
“Fuck off!” Richard spat out the words and stared him right in the eyes. The policeman's eyes narrowed slightly but he didn't seem particularly annoyed, he spoke carefully and quietly with a hint of an Irish accent,
“You'd better be movin' on now, you ‘travellers’ are not welcome around here. This is a nice quiet respectable little town, and we don't want any scum like you making a mess of the place, so turn around and hoof-it right back where you came from!” He took out his truncheon and tapped it lightly in his palm, adding,
“Your friends are camped in the lay-by about a mile down that road.” He pointed with his truncheon to a road leading out of town. Richard realised that the policeman had mistaken him for a crusty ‘new-age traveller’, all of a sudden he had the urge to tell the policeman who he was and what had happened to him,
“Listen to me…“ He took a step towards him, “...I’ve been kidnapped!…” He blurted out the words sounding almost hysterical, “…no listen, I was held a prisoner by two crazy women! They chained me to an iron bed!” Richard realised that he sounded crazy. The policeman smiled, a mirthless grin on his mouth and hatred and disgust in his eyes,
“Are you sure it wasn't ‘the aliens’ who abducted you then?” He asked sarcastically before raising his voice menacingly and waving his truncheon in Richards face,
“Now get your fucked-up, drugged-up filthy carcass out of my town, go on move it!” Richard turned away and headed down the road, his anger had dissipated when he realised how foolish he appeared, he trudged out of Shillingham without any idea of what he was going to do, the hopelessness of his situation becoming more apparent with every weary step. Walking like an automaton he plodded without thought. Gradually the houses gave way to fields and trees, and he saw an old-fashioned single-decker bus parked in a lay-by. An old woman sat in its doorway with a steaming mug held in both hands, on the grass nearby sat an Asian man tending a camp fire, he remembered the words of the policeman, “Your friends are camped in the lay-by about a mile down that road.” Richard was hungry and desperately thirsty, he approached the woman,
“Can you spare some water, please?” He asked hoarsely.
“Piss off scrounger!” She glared at him and spat on the floor, Richard recoiled, shocked, then tried again,
“Please! I'm desperate, all I want is a-” The old woman stood up, turned around and went into the bus closing the door in his face. Richard stood there for a moment, stunned, until the sound of another voice made him turn,
“Hey! If you want something from us then you have to be prepared to trade, go and fetch some more wood for this fire, then we might be able to trade you some water.”
Richard could hardly believe that he had to barter for a drink of water but it seemed like there was no alternative, he wandered off the road into the trees picking up twigs and fallen branches. A few minutes later he returned to the camp with a bundle of firewood, the Asian man eyed the twigs critically before handing over a mug half filled with water,
“Sip it. You're dehydrated.” His English was very good but he retained a far-east accent. Richard wondered if he was Chinese and was surprised when he answered his unspoken question,
“I was born in Japan.” He said it as if Richard had actually asked the question, then continued,
“Now sit down before you fall down.” The Asian had a powerful grip as he took Richard’s arm and eased him down beside the fire. The heat from the flames felt good and the water was cool and refreshing. Richard shuffled backwards getting more comfortable leaning against a bush, he felt that he ought to say something,
“Thank you…” It seemed appropriate, he continued, “…Can I rest here for a little while? Just until I get a little strength back? I‘m very tired.”
The Asian looked a little surprised, then replied,
“Strength, my friend, does not ‘come back’, it not a thing which comes and goes like the moon or a migrant bird, it is always with you. It is born in you, A man only needs to know his strength and when and how to use it.”
The statement was wasted on Richard, he'd only meant to say that he was tired and would like to rest for a while, the Asian man kept talking,
“I am known as Tsuba...” He held out his hand, Richard wearily took it and was surprised again, the hand felt as strong as iron, “...You are welcome to stay here for a while, but if you want to continue to use the fire then you will have to fetch some wood, and some more sturdy pieces! These few twigs will not burn long.” Tsuba pointed to the pile that Richard had collected and then at some others that, presumably, he or the old woman had collected earlier, Richard nodded and promised to fetch some more later. The warmth from the fire and the sunshine helped Richard to relax and in only a few short minutes he had fallen asleep.
*
Eve, On the Prowl, Birmingham, England - 2000
Eve sipped from a bottle of American lager, she was in Birmingham, in one of its more fashionable nightclubs, and she was bored. Usually such places were a hotbed of emotional and sexual tension, tonight things were a little quiet, it was midweek and the club was only half full, the clubbers that were there seemed only half interested as well. She was about to grab Franco and leave when she heard the immortal words,
“So what's a pretty girl like you doing all on her own?” She turned and saw a moderately attractive middle-aged man beaming his best ‘I'm here on business and I've got an expense account’ smile. She favoured him with a suggestive lick around the rim of her bottle before replying,
“I'm not alone any more, am I?”
*
Rome - AD65
There was great unrest amongst the people of Rome, Nero needed a scapegoat for the great fire and decided the irritating Christians would be ideal to take the blame. Amidst great political showmanship he ordered the persecution of all Christians. And in the Mamartine, after much mistreatment, Peter was crucified with his head downward; and Paul was beheaded. To complete their bodies were then thrown in to the sewers.
The next few years were a series of diversions for The gladiatrix as she gradually increased her contacts within Nero’s court. Whilst never forgetting the degradations heaped upon her as a child, and the look on her twin brother’s face as Nero’s father, Gnaeus Domitius buggered and strangled him.
“But you failed to kill me, didn’t you Soul Stealer? Despite your best efforts.”
*
Walther, London - 2000
Back on his boat Walther emptied his jacket pockets and found the letter that he'd picked up when he was in the Hammersmith house with Susan, he read it. The contents were irrelevant but Sir Clive’s name on the front told him who owned the house and gave him the idea that he might also own another house elsewhere, where Eve might now be hiding. It was a small lead but one well worth pursuing, he used his phone to make an appointment with a local private detective. He had also decided to find Susan and remembering her parent’s names and that they lived in Norfolk meant that he should be able to trace her quite easily. He was convinced that she would be hunting Eve for personal revenge and he wanted to offer his help, “It is the least I can do...” Walther was getting back in the hunt and determined that this time he would succeed, “...But I would not blame her if she...” he smiled sadly as he thought of the foul language Susan seemed prone to, “...told me to fuck off.”
Susan, Norfolk - 2000
After that first terrifying night in the house Susan’s dreams had not been troubled by the spectres of her parents, instead she had vivid nightmares about Richard, somehow she could not accept that he was dead, he was missing and that was all, she would find him and bring him home. Home to Norfolk. Not their own house in Windsor, that had to be put into the past, she would build a safe haven for him in her parents' old cottage.
She had adopted a new sin to carry the guilt for, she blamed herself for Richard's disappearance. And that meant that she had to find him, or at the very worst what became of hi
m, she anchored her life, and sanity, in that tiny house next to the church.
In the few days that followed her arrival she had spent a lot of time reading through her father’s and mother’s writings, all she’d found were a few notes in a diary regarding a woman they’d met in Africa, but there was nothing concrete, nothing as straightforward as an address or contact.
She hadn't left the house since her arrival and had been surviving on the little food parcels left for her by the Vicar, there was a note pushed through the letterbox on her second day which read,
My Dear Susan,
I’ve taken the liberty of collecting a few things together for you (look on the doorstep!) Please call me if there is the slightest thing I can do to help,
With kind regards,
Vicar.
She was angry at first but then admitted to herself that she was being irrational. She peeked from the curtains until she was sure the coast was clear then took in the parcel, grateful and surprised when she saw the bottle of sherry,
“Vicar's tipple!” She laughed out loud for the first time in ages.
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