Playing With Death

by Simon Scarrow

  Rose rounds the corner of a hillside, sees the two white bridges leading to the lighthouse. She feels the reassuring weight of her Glock as she paces across the bridge slats. The waves crash against the rocks below, gulls occasionally squawk. She takes a deep breath of the salty air, calming her for a moment, while her heart continues to thump in her chest. When she reaches the base of the lighthouse, she glances up at the diffused beam of light arcing in a clockwise motion through the fog above. She takes a look behind her at the bridge. A chill runs down her spine as she sees a grey silhouette, standing still. She blinks, and the silhouette is gone.

  ‘Koenig? Robbie?’

  The only answer is the crash and spray of the waves below. Rose waits for another twenty seconds. Her nerves are frayed, her legs and arms aching from the constant tension. Her earpiece crackles. She can hear Baptiste coughing.

  ‘Rose? What’s going on out there? Owen can only see you on his thermal.’

  Rose takes a look around before glancing at her watch and whispering into her mike.

  ‘It’s ten past eight. Looks like it may be a no-show.’

  ‘We’ll wait until half past. Hang in there.’

  Time stretches out. Rose has holstered her weapon and is sitting on the side of a bank of grass, rubbing her hands together restlessly. What if Koenig is wise to the trap and has killed Robbie to punish her? She checks her watch again. It’s already half past eight.

  ‘OK. We’ll wrap it up, Rose,’ Baptiste says.

  ‘Yes, chief.’

  She shoots one last look at the lighthouse and trudges back down the coast path, secure in the knowledge that her colleagues have her back.

  Why hasn’t Koenig shown up? What has he done with Robbie? He must have known the FBI would be waiting, even as he told her to come here. So what is he up to? Her head swarms with urgent questions and she feels sick at not knowing the answers. She makes the long climb back to where she left the car. Now there are several other vehicles there as the FBI and police pack up and leave. She sees Owen by the trees, clad in black camo gear, disconnecting his earpiece.

  ‘Hey, Rosie, shame about the no-show. Maybe he got spooked, left Robbie somewhere. Tactical are giving me a ride back. You OK?’

  ‘Thanks, Owen, I’ll be fine. Just need a moment to myself.’ She retrieves the comms unit from her ear, hands it back to Owen. Owen climbs into a Park truck and waves.

  Rose watches as the trucks head off. Her heels crack on loose twigs as she opens her car door. She turns on the ignition and blasts the heating on for a while, to warm herself up from the chill outside.

  She feels her smartphone vibrate in her pocket. It’s a text from Diva.

  I’ve been following the FBI communications. Koenig does not appear to be present. His phone appears to be switched off. I will be able to locate him if he contacts you again.

  Rose dismisses the text, but she then has an idea and quickly types:

  NSA can track phones that are switched off. The FBI is not authorized to use the service. I think it’s called the Find. See what you can do?

  A few seconds later:

  The radio transceiver should be switched off when the phone is powered down, but that isn’t the case if the battery itself is not removed. Koenig’s phone is also an older model, so even when it is switched off it has a baseband processor power up every ten minutes or so to retrieve text messages, but not phone calls. A few moments, please . . .

  Rose feels a glimmer of hope. The beam of a car headlights pours in through the back window. Turning around, she sees it’s a National Park Service car cruising down to circle back on itself. The unaccompanied ranger driving sees Rose, pauses and parks the vehicle. He closes the door behind him, adjusts his cream hat and paces towards Rose’s car as she lowers the window an inch or two.

  ‘Ma’am, I’m Ranger Parkes, are you with the FBI?’

  Rose cannot help but smile. ‘For real? Ranger Parkes, the park ranger?’

  ‘Wow. First time I ever heard that one. I got a message for you, from someone called Baptiste. Are you Special Agent Blake?’

  Rose presses the button on her window, the pane sliding down a few more inches.

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’ She lowers the window all the way down as she glances at her smartphone screen:

  Signal location found. I am tracking using maps in real time. He is close.

  Rose’s heart jumps a few beats.

  VERY close.

  She peers at the map screen on her smartphone. She sees herself as the blue dot; the red dot she presumes is Koenig.

  ‘Ma’am, is everything OK?’ the ranger asks, taking a few more steps towards the car.

  Rose pushes her fingers up on the screen to zoom in. The two dots are now overlapping. There’s no one here except her and Ranger Parkes.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  His voice is eerily familiar.

  Ranger Parkes places his hand on the edge of the window, peering down at Rose. She takes a hard look at him again. He doesn’t look like Koenig . . . but there’s an intensity in his dark, beady eyes. Suddenly, she knows. And in that second, she knows he also knows.

  ‘That’s right, Rose. We can finally get our evening started. No more games. Not like at the cabin. Get out.’

  He opens the door for her and she sees the gun in his other hand. She takes a step out, sickening dread flooding her stomach. Looking around her, she sees the tail lights of the last of the FBI vehicles as it heads back up towards the highway.

  It’s all down to her now. She is alone with Koenig.

  83.

  ‘Smartphone, please,’ Koenig says, cracking a smile, pointing his handgun at her abdomen. ‘And your wire.’

  Rose hands both to him. As she does, she catches a glimpse of rapid typing on her screen. What is Diva doing now?

  ‘Nice little trick that was,’ Koenig says, not noticing the text message as he turns the handset over and removes the battery. The screen goes black, and he places the handset and battery in his pant pockets. ‘It’s been interesting to follow your communications all evening. Following you every step of the way. Now please remove your firearm with your finger and thumb and put it on the ground.’

  Rose unholsters her Glock, placing it on the gravel with a clink.

  ‘Kick it away from you.’

  Rose obeys. She watches as the weapon spins off to the side.

  ‘You walk ahead of me, towards the patrol vehicle,’ he instructs, stepping in behind her. She blinks into the glare of the headlights. She hears him take some steps, his keys jangling, and then he gives her a shove in the small of her back.

  ‘On your knees. Hands on head. Don’t look round.’

  She hears his boots crunch on the gravel and then a click as the trunk of the Park Service car is popped. There’s a grunt and a dull moan of pain, and then the sound of footsteps approaching. Rose’s heart is beating wildly, every sense in her body straining with unbearable anxiety. Then she senses movement to her side and risks a glance to see Koenig holding Robbie two paces away. Robbie is looking at her with wide, frightened eyes, black tape across his mouth. Instinctively she makes to rise onto her feet.

  ‘Robbie! I’m here! Everything’s—’

  ‘. . . gonna be OK?’ Koenig finishes. ‘Stay on your knees! You cops, feds . . . are all so predictable. And liars. You stay right where you are and do exactly as I say, or Robbie here gets to be an orphan, shortly before that’s the last thing he ever gets to be.’

  Koenig taps the barrel of his gun against Robbie’s head to underscore the threat. Rose keeps still. She cannot believe the radical change in Koenig’s appearance. Gone is the square jaw and mop of blond hair. She can see that although his face has changed its contours and shape, his eyes are still the same. The cold black glint of a twisted, evil soul inside. He re
gards her with a steady gaze.

  ‘So here we are,’ he says casually. ‘All alone. Dramatic setting. Spooky weather. But it always comes down to this: the one who has a gun and the one who hasn’t.’

  He presses the gun against Robbie’s head and ruffles Robbie’s hair with his left hand. Rose’s mind is racing. She knows that if she tries to attack him she will be dead before she rises to her feet. And then Koenig will blow Robbie’s brains out.

  ‘You know, after you gatecrashed my set-up at the cabin, I had to get myself a new face.’ He dabs his index finger on his left cheek. ‘That’s what you took from me. My goddam face, you bitch . . .’

  There’s a brief animal growl in his throat.

  ‘But I’m still the same Koenig underneath. This . . . change . . . freed me, in a way. But the cabin changed you, didn’t it? I can see a . . . vulnerability in you now. Yes. It’s in your eyes. Now I’m going to take something from you.’

  Rose feels the adrenalin surging as she tries to thrust her fear aside, and her mind becomes cold and calculating. The bastard is using Robbie as a shield, and with the gun so close it would be dangerous to make any sudden movements.

  ‘You are the next trophy for my collection,’ he says in a flat monotone. ‘I’m recording this right now, so everyone will see you watch your son die. And then you get to join him, Rose.’ Koenig chuckles. ‘A kind of “kill one, get one free” offer for my fans.’ He points to a small lens that looks like a button on his jacket. ‘This’ll get thousands of viewers on my channel. My loyal fans.’ He tries to smile, but it’s a perfunctory, empty gesture.

  Rose forces herself to speak calmly, even though her heart is being torn in two inside her. ‘My son has nothing to do with this. He’s innocent. Just like you were. Once. Let me show you something.’ She waits, and Koenig narrows his eyes.

  ‘What is it, Rose?’

  ‘Something you need to see.’

  ‘Really? I don’t think so.’

  ‘What have you got to lose, Koenig?’

  ‘Oh, me? Nothing. I’m sure this will add a little drama to the video. Go ahead. One hand, finger and thumb only.’ Koenig places the muzzle of his handgun against Robbie’s temple. Rose feels a stabbing pain in her heart as she sees her son flinch. Slowly moving her hand, she reaches into her side pocket.

  ‘Easy there, Rose. No tricks.’

  Rose has the corner of the picture between her thumb and index finger. Koenig watches closely as she pulls out a copy of the photo from the cabin, holds it in front of her.

  Her outstretched hand trembles. She’s taking a huge gamble showing Koenig this picture. It could trigger anything. A sudden fit of homicidal rage, shooting Robbie and then her. But it’s all she’s got. In her gut, somehow, she knows it could have the opposite effect. She needs to distract Koenig from the here and now, talk him into letting Robbie go. It’s her only chance.

  Koenig’s resolve wavers when he sees the picture, showing Rose a rare, haunted, vulnerable look. His hand loosens its grip on Robbie’s shoulder and lowers to his side. Rose sees Robbie has noticed and is, by degrees, slowly edging away from Koenig.

  Rose continues. ‘I think I know what happened to you. You weren’t far off Robbie’s age, were you?’

  ‘A little older.’ He lowers the handgun slightly, watching Rose. ‘It all started at the farm.’

  ‘The Tanners pretended to be someone, didn’t they? They deceived you.’

  Koenig’s lips twist into a snarl. ‘To say the least.’

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘They called her “Katie”,’ he says, like he hasn’t uttered the name out loud for years. ‘We messaged for a while, and then one day she asked me if I’d like to visit her farm.’

  Rose keeps eye contact with Koenig as Robbie keeps shifting away. ‘What happened when you got to the farm?’

  ‘Katie wasn’t there. She never was. There was only Judith and Brad Tanner, pretending to be her folks.’

  Koenig suddenly grips the gun tightly. He’s sweating as he recalls the details. ‘They promised me she’d be home soon. Promised.’

  ‘Then what happened?’ Rose asks, not sure if she wants to know the answer, her eyes flicking back to Robbie, trying to comfort him.

  Koenig does not reply, but his lips twist into a grimace.

  ‘You were abused, Shane. And you decided it should stop, didn’t you? You went back and killed them.’ Out of the corner of her eye, Rose can see Robbie is now nearly two feet away from Koenig, but at any second he could be grabbed. She doesn’t dare look at her son. She remains focused on Koenig.

  Koenig wipes the sweat from his brow. ‘The funny thing is that they refused to believe it when I told them who I was. After all that they had done to me you think they’d remember. Fuckers . . .’

  A thought occurs to Rose and she presses on. ‘When you saw Kim again, for real this time, you thought it was them playing another trick. That somehow they were behind her appearance?’

  Koenig nods, the gun still pointed at Rose but the muzzle lowered a little. For a brief moment she is moved. She has managed to find a chink in his armour. Koenig’s career as a serial killer, triggered by the two monsters who had lured him into their trap.

  ‘People are all liars, all vain – they all deserve to die.’

  Rose raises her hands as she rises to her feet very slowly. ‘It was wrong what the Tanners did to you. You were lonely. They deceived you into thinking you’d met a pretty girl online. And they abused your trust. I get it, Shane, I really do. But don’t take it out on my son. The cycle has to end.’

  Koenig stares absently, in a trance-like state. His bitter expression suddenly switches to manic amusement as he regains his malevolent focus.

  ‘It’s OK. But thanks for doing your homework. I got over it. Shame you won’t have a chance to. To become truly better you need to suffer and lose.’

  He sees Robbie now standing equidistant from him and Rose. He raises his gun.

  ‘You think I’m living close to the edge, Rose. The truth is, it’s you.’

  Rose drops the photo. She can barely look as Koenig grins, aiming his gun at Robbie.

  A gust of cold wind blows in. Rose stares fiercely at Robbie. It’s the only way she can project her love for him in these final moments. She can feel his terror.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ is all she can say, her voice small.

  I failed you.

  A tear slides down her cheek, and she smiles at Robbie tenderly. Robbie is breathing hard, knowing what’s about to happen.

  ‘Mom . . . Please don’t let him hurt me!’

  There’s no way she can get to the gun. She looks up to the sky, imploring some force to intervene.

  ‘I died years ago, at the Tanner farm,’ Koenig declares, squeezing his finger on the trigger. ‘No one saved me, and no one is going to save your boy . . .’

  84.

  There’s a high-pitched whistle and Koenig’s left shoulder explodes into claret and fragments of shredded cloth. The force of the bullet propels him off balance, his right hand holding the gun swinging over to Rose, firing as he falls back onto the ground. His gun slips from his grasp, clattering onto the dirt track. Rose gasps as Koenig’s bullet ploughs through her thigh. Gulls shriek and scatter at the sound.

  She pulls her hand away from her leg. Sticky red blood splashes across her palm. Robbie runs towards her, and she tears the tape from his mouth and wraps her arms around him. She kisses him on the forehead. Then she staggers towards Koenig, her hair blowing in the breeze that is stirring the fog and thinning it out. She glances round anxiously to see where the shot came from. Someone is still looking out for her.

  Koenig is in shock, his trembling right hand pressing the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. He stares at the bright blood oozing between his fingers.<
br />
  ‘Stay back,’ Rose orders Robbie, closing in on Koenig. Koenig sees her, glares at her with the look of an angry wounded animal. He shifts, sitting upright. His shaking hand moves towards his gun.

  Rose limps towards him before she kicks him hard in the face, then makes a grab for his gun, her pulse racing, gripping the weapon tightly. She knows what she should do. She points the gun at Koenig, aims between his eyes. She turns to Robbie.

  ‘Look away, baby.’

  Robbie stares back at Rose, then Koenig.

  ‘I said, look away!’

  Robbie shuts his eyes, turning his back.

  Rose zeroes in on Koenig’s empty eyes.

  All those people he’s killed. He nearly killed my son. He has put me and my family through hell.

  She suddenly flashes back to her discussion with Diva. Murder is wrong. And there is the law . . . The law is all we have . . .

  She grips the gun while Koenig watches her, a confused look crossing his face. Her hand shakes under the weight of what she is about to do.

  Finally, with angry tears in her eyes, she lowers the gun.

  ‘On your front, you piece of shit,’ she barks.

  Koenig laughs. ‘The merciful Rose Blake, playing it by the book . . . You pathetic bitch.’

  Rose is feeling giddy from the loss of blood, and can’t stand any longer. She slumps to her knees, feeling the searing pain in her thigh, and unhooks her handcuffs, sliding them around his wrists. She’s starting to feel cold and trembling as the shock starts to set in.

  ‘You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . . You have the right to speak with an attorney and have him present with you while you are being questioned . . . If you cannot afford to hire an attorney, one will be appointed to represent you before any questioning if you wish. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?’

  ‘See you in court,’ says Koenig.