Kill All Kill All

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Kill All Kill All Page 33

by Craig McNish


  “Yes, he probably would have” Parkes said quietly, Cutter's words helping her realise the full implications of her pivotal role in ensuring Mills' capture. At a time like this, in the excitement of preparing what would normally qualify as the biggest day of her life, it had been easy for Parkes to forget exactly why this needed to be done. If she had lost some focus, Cutter's words had helped her regain it. “So, what do you think?” Parkes did a quick pirouette to show off her outfit; a simple white dress with matching shoes, and a headband lined with flowers to hold back her silky, gleaming hair. And while Parkes suspected a wedding of such importance in the seventeenth century was a more regal affair, for a false wedding that was never going to take place it seemed suitable enough. Cutter nodded her approval and smiled brightly

  “Absolutely perfect. So, are you nervous?”

  “I will be if we end up as man and wife, believe me.”

  *

  A few frantic last-minute phone calls left Hawkins satisfied that things were as ready as they would ever get. As he finished the last of his coffee, a dozen scenarios ran through his head of possible outcomes. He was pretty sure they had everything covered. His main worry had been the reporter, who he considered to be something of a loose cannon; she'd been sent away with the explicit warning that if she did anything at all to put the operation in jeopardy he'd see to it personally that she did jail time. Lomas hadn't been impressed by the threat or the insinuation that she couldn't act as a professional but the message had got through and she'd given her word to keep a low profile.

  “You ready to go, boss?” Hawkins looked up at the clock on the incident room wall; it was just after nine thirty. Roach, who had popped her head round the door to call out to him, had disappeared again. Everyone else had already left for the church. The only two people who had to get there after Hawkins and Roach left was the bride and groom.

  “As ready as I'll ever be” Hawkins said to himself, adjusting his tie in the mirror and running his fingers through his hair before stepping outside into a sunny but chilly Ferryhill morning. His eyes opened wide when he saw Roach, who was smiling brightly.

  “Well you look...different” Hawkins remarked, and he wasn't wrong. Instead of the usual two-piece trouser suit and black, sensible flat shoes, Roach had changed into a cream-coloured jacket with matching above-the-knee skirt, high heels and while he couldn't work out exactly what it was, Hawkins knew that Roach had also done something with her hair. The make-up was different, too; more accentuated, but definitely more flattering.

  “Cheers, boss. It's not often I get the chance to dress up, so I thought I'd take full advantage.” Hawkins smiled and held up his left arm; Roach linked her right arm through his and they made for his car. He even opened the door for her to get inside.

  “Let's just hope the groom doesn't do a runner” Hawkins said as he started the car's engine. “Or the bride, for that matter.”

  *

  The team had acclimatised quickly to the church and the situation. Hawkins saw them all gathered outside the entrance to the building as he found a space to park his car, pleased to note that they all seemed at ease and weren't discussing work. They'd all been given specific instructions to keep everything as light-hearted as possible, so talking shop was an absolute no-go. If anything was going to scare off Mills, it would be overhearing talk of outstanding cases and conviction rates. He and Roach went over to join the throng, with Roach receiving a number of appreciative wolf-whistles from her colleagues as they took in her much-changed appearance. Some of their looks had lingered a little too long for her liking but now wasn't the time to broach the subject.

  “Any sign of the happy couple?” Hawkins asked Jeff Smith. It was four minutes to ten.

  “Not yet.” Smith shook his head. “But the two undercovers have confirmed that they picked up their passengers so they shouldn't be long.” Hawkins nodded; he'd gotten two of his PCs to don chauffeur's suits and hire a couple of fancy cars to bring them to the church. Questions had been raised when Hawkins had requested the funding but he'd explained it was vital to the success of the operation for the wedding to be as realistic as possible and they had finally agreed, but his bosses had made it clear they expected a result and the budget didn't go as far as flowers, so when Hawkins ducked his head inside the church he was happy to see that Reverend Boyd had obviously gone some way to providing the usual surroundings, even though nobody would be setting foot inside. Hearing the chatter, Reverend Boyd headed for the entrance to the church and when he spotted Roach, went to see her and discuss his plan. She introduced him to Hawkins and the Reverend began to speak.

  “I have to say I was a little surprised when Detective Roach called and asked for my help” he said, addressing Hawkins. “But I know of the many myths and legends that surround Andrew Mills and I believe it to be in the best interests of everyone for him to be laid to rest.”

  “I'm glad you agree” Hawkins responded. “So what's the plan?”

  “The tomb of the Brass Children is over there.” Boyd pointed off towards the far edge of the graveyard. You have to understand that this is something of an emotional moment for Mister Mills so I would ask you to respect his privacy and keep all of your officers some distance away. You should ask Jane to insist on being at his side, and I will be a respectful distance behind. I don't see any reason why he shouldn't be willing to comply with these requests.

  “I will begin the recital of the exorcism prayer while Mills makes his peace; it is a fairly short verse so I should easily be able to complete it before he finishes. I'll have a small vial of water, taken from the baptismal font; it will be thrown upon him in the sign of the cross and I will ask for the Devil to show himself. He has no power on hallowed ground, so I don't fear any kind of an attack.”

  “So what will happen to Mills when the exorcism is complete?” Roach wanted to know.

  “Life is being given to him by the Devil himself, so the likelihood is once they are separated Andrew Mills will revert to his true state – nothing but ashes. We should collect those ashes and put them into a container I have readied, which I will then bless and seal with the wax from candles that have already been blessed in the church. Then he can be buried and should bother us no longer.”

  “You'll bury him here, in the graveyard?”

  “Not at all, Detective Hawkins. According to legend, hanged men had their remains buried either beneath the stob from which they hung, or at a crossroads to confuse and disorientate the spirit. I would say that the Thinford roundabout might be a more suitable place for his ashes to be laid to rest.”

  “I think we can manage that” Hawkins agreed. “And what about this 'devil' that's going to appear? Are we going to see some guy with a tail, hooves and horns sprouting from his head carrying a pitchfork?”

  “The Devil takes many forms, Detective, but I doubt that is one of them” Boyd laughed. “More likely it will be a personification of the darker side of his soul. It could take human form, or even animal, but once again on holy ground I don't expect it to be a threat.”

  “In that case, Reverend Boyd, I wish you the best of luck.”

  “And here come our bride and groom.” Roach's announcement gave everyone cause to look over to the two cars that had just pulled onto the church grounds. From the first stepped the blushing bride; everyone applauded loudly and passed comment when Jane Parkes got out of the car looking absolutely radiant. She accepted the wishes and hugs as any bride would, not even a hint of the deception showing on her face. Lomas had been giving a report into the camera but had now diverted her attention to Parkes; she had though been given strict instructions to keep her distance and so far was playing ball.

  Then it was Mills' turn. For a brief moment, Hawkins could have sworn the look on the young man's face was one of terror. He stumbled a little after getting out of the car, taking an opportunity to lean against its roof and steady himself. It was also a tell-tale sign that his power had deserted him, at least temporarily. Ha
wkins went onto high alert, knowing he was now on borrowed time.

  Roach had visions of everyone being struck by stage fright as soon as Mills arrived. He was only a little above average height and while he didn't have a huge frame he was well-built and obviously extremely fit. Above all though, he was an imposing figure. Those who did speak to him seemed to be somewhat in awe of his presence and while they knew to play to his ego Roach was pretty sure this wasn't how they had planned to do it. Mills was cordial enough and while somewhat awestruck he returned all of the greetings with a warm handshake and a few works of thanks, but those who he'd touched walked away feeling somewhat changed by the experience. Roach had started to make her way over to where Mills was standing; he noticed Lomas headed towards him, her cameraman in tow. Mills looked at her, frowned, then started to tremble.

  “Are you all right, Mister Mills?” The reporter asked him, sincerely hoping he wouldn't pass out and ruin what could be her only chance to get an interview with the man. Mills started to lift his bowed head slowly until finally he was looking straight into Lomas' eyes.

  “Mother” he said quietly. “You're here.”

  *

  The reporter stared at him unblinking, her mind full of questions now completely blank. This was not something she had been expecting, and neither had anyone else. Hawkins cursed inwardly at this unforeseen spanner in the works, and while it was something that no one could have anticipated, he still decided to blame Lomas for throwing the plan off course. Now what the hell was going to happen?

  Lomas stood silently, amazed by Mills' words.

  “You think I wouldn't attend my son's wedding?” she said finally. “I've waited so long for this moment – I would never have mi...” Lomas stopped speaking when Roach started coughing violently. A quick glance from Roach said it all – SHUT THE FUCK UP! “I'll speak to you after the ceremony, Andrew, but first I believe you have some other business to attend to.”

  “That I do, mother.” Mills looked sullen, even angry. “We shall speak soon.” He leaned forward and kissed Lomas gently on the right cheek. “Let us get this first part over with so we might marry and be happy together” Mills told Parkes before they moved off to where Reverend Boyd was ushering them. Lomas was speaking to her cameraman in an excited manner, fingers resting lightly on her cheek where Mills had kissed her. It must have had a profound effect, but the reporter still retained enough professionalism to ensure everything had been caught on tape. As Roach watched her jump up and down like a delighted child, it would appear that it had.

  Mills approached the tomb with understandable trepidation, feeling his strength sag a little more at the sight of the final resting place of three of his victims.

  “Make your peace, Andrew Mills, and then you can marry the woman that you love with a clear conscience” Boyd urged gently, taking a few steps backward and offering his own quick prayer for strength and guidance. Parkes stood a few feet off to Mills' right side, not daring to look at him so gazing straight ahead. Again she was struggling with her conscience; their arrival at the church had her wondering if there was even the smallest chance he could be saved, for she was willing to take it. She closed her eyes, knowing she only had to remain silent for another five minutes or so. It would be the longest five minutes of her life.

  Reverend Boyd remained under scrutiny by Hawkins and Roach, both captivated as he made the sign of the cross several times in front of him and began reciting in a whisper the exorcism prayer that he had learnt by heart.

  “Kyrie eleison. God, our Lord, King of ages, All-powerful and Almighty, You who made everything and who transforms everything simply by Your will. You who in Babylon changed into dew the flames of the 'seven-times hotter' furnace and protected and saved the three holy children. You are the doctor and the physician of our souls. You are the salvation of those who turn to You. We beseech You to make powerless, banish, and drive out every diabolic power, presence and machination; every evil influence, malefice, or evil eye and all evil actions aimed against your servant. . . Where there is envy and malice, give us an abundance of goodness, endurance, victory, and charity. O Lord, You who love man, we beg You to reach out Your powerful hands and Your most high and mighty arms and come to our aid. Help us, who are made in Your image, send the angel of peace over us, to protect us body and soul. May he keep at bay and vanquish every evil power, every poison or malice invoked against us by corrupt and envious people. Then, under the protection of Your authority may we sing, in gratitude, "The Lord is my salvation; whom should I fear?" I will not fear evil because You are with me, my God, my strength, my powerful Lord, Lord of peace, Father of all ages. Yes, Lord our God, be merciful to us, Your image, and save your servant . . . from every threat or harm from the evil one, and protect him by raising him above all evil. We ask you this through the intercession of our Most Blessed, Glorious Lady, Mary ever Virgin, Mother of God, of the most splendid archangels and all yours saints. Amen.”

  Parkes was aware that Mills had been talking but had been unable to take in anything that he had said. Had he sought redemption, apologised for his actions? Or had he been speaking nothing but gibberish, maybe even mocking the souls of the three dead children? She honestly didn't know. With everyone concentrating their gaze on the three people across the graveyard, nobody had noticed Lomas making her way ever closer to where they stood.

  “Please, God, grant me the strength for what I am about to do.” Boyd removed the vial of holy water that had been strapped to his wrist. Overcome by a huge sense of foreboding and fear, Lomas watched in horror as the Reverend took a few slow, tentative steps towards Mills, who was still facing the grave. Parkes too seemed to sense that something was about to happen; she looked around and as her eyes landed on Lomas, she realised the woman was going to come to Mills' aid. But in the split second that Parkes had taken to process the thought and try to figure out the best way to stop her, it was too late.

  “Andrew, behind you! Look out! Run!” The warning rang in Mills' ears and registered in a flash. Even with his strength ebbing, he still took off at speed. Without any idea why he had been told to run, it was done purely on instinct.

  “What the fuck have you done?” Hawkins yelled at Lomas, who looked confused for a moment then wide-eyed with shock, her actions suddenly recalled and the repercussions realised. “Arrest her for obstruction of justice – that'll do for starters. We can pile the charges on later. Roach, Sykes, Smith – you're with me!” The four detectives took off after Mills, splitting into two pairs in an effort to narrow down his fleeing options. Mills opted to take the less obvious route; he headed straight for the congregated crowd, hoping they would either part and let him through while confusion reigned or that he could simply barge his way through and back onto the street, where his evil spirit would regain control. Lomas protested as her hands were pulled behind her back and the handcuffs fastened around her wrists, claiming she blanked out temporarily and didn't know what she was doing. It wasn't a deliberate act of sabotage, she was saying, but nobody was interested in her explanation. No doubt Hawkins would tear her to pieces later.

  Being pursued from three different directions to his rear, Mills knew his best chance of escape was to get off the church grounds; his waning strength told him that he would never survive a prolonged chase. He had no choice. Mills angled his run towards the church he and would have to hope he still possessed enough energy to make it to the road beyond. He knew that his chances of success were slim, but it was the only option he had.

  Seeing what Mills was planning to do, Hawkins ordered all of the detectives to split up. Sykes backtracked and headed for the front of the church, while Smith headed for the perimeter wall and slowly cut inside for the same destination. Hawkins and Roach widened the gap between themselves and kept running forward, so all four were effectively converging on one spot and closing the net. Reverend Boyd, to his credit, had kept pace with the others and would be on hand to administer the final part of the ritual when Mills was apprehe
nded.

  Mills was only around twenty feet ahead of Roach, who cursed continually under her breath for being made to run in high heels. After stumbling yet again she kicked off her shoes and, in sheer frustration, threw them one at a time at Mills. With one shoe hitting him in the back and the heel of the second shoe finding the back of his head, it was just enough to slow him down for a couple of seconds. From about six feet away, Hawkins dove at Mills with outstretched arms and took a swipe at his legs, causing him to lose his balance and fall heavily onto the gravel path that surrounded the edge of the graveyard. He lay there, unmoving; he knew the chase was over, and that he had lost.

  “I know what you are about to do” Mills said as Boyd approached “and I want you to know that I do not intend to try and fight you in any way. I wish you no harm, and indeed I never did. When I was first summoned back to Ferryhill by Jane and her friends, I felt it was for a reason, and I believed that reason to be revenge. I wanted to harm those who had brought harm to me. But as I learned more about the world in which you now live, I knew that to inflict such pain would be wrong. You could not possibly have exerted a control of any sort over your ancestors who lived before you.

  “Much had gone wrong in my life to lead me to act the way that I did. I am an honest man, and all I ever asked for from anyone was a show of respect. Still though they continued to ridicule me and their unkind remarks were more than I could stand. It had been my hope that me and Jane would marry and have a happy life; that we would live in reasonable comfort and raise a family together. But after what I have seen and learned these past days when I have been back here, I see now that this is not a place for me to be. It is not that I am not wanted, I think, but that I do not belong, and a man should not stay where he does not belong.

 

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