by Luke Delaney
‘Detective Sergeant Corrigan,’ Canning declared before scanning the bodies around the room as if confused. ‘I wasn’t aware I had anything of interest for you in today.’
‘You don’t,’ Sean agreed. ‘I was interested in some people who’ve already passed through your hands. D’you mind if I pick your brains?’
‘No,’ Canning answered cautiously. ‘So long as you don’t mind if I keep working.’
‘Of course not. Anything interesting?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Canning answered. ‘Elderly lady living on her own – died on her own. Looks like a heart attack, but as she wasn’t receiving any ongoing treatment it has to be treated as suspicious until I say different, which I will. Nothing as interesting as our last case.’
‘The Sue Evans murder,’ Townsend guessed.
Sean ignored her. ‘I couldn’t have caught her killer without your help,’ he told Canning.
‘Somehow I think you would have,’ Canning replied. Sean just shrugged. ‘So what is it you think I can help you with today, if it isn’t one of my guests?’
‘The murdered prostitutes,’ Sean told him.
‘I didn’t know you were on that investigation.’
‘I am now,’ Sean replied.
‘Well,’ Canning asked, ‘what d’you want to know?’
‘You did all the postmortems?’ Sean checked.
‘I did,’ Canning confirmed. ‘The first victim as she was found in my jurisdiction and after that DI Ramsay ensured all the other victims came here – for continuity.’ Clearly Ramsay was no fool, Sean thought to himself.
‘Definitely the same killer?’ Sean asked.
‘Definitely,’ Canning insisted.
‘Why so sure?’
‘The level of violence. The victim type.’
‘That can be copied,’ Sean played devil’s advocate. ‘Mimicked.’
‘But not the exact cause of death.’
‘Go on,’ Sean encouraged him.
‘Cause of death was strangulation,’ Canning explained, ‘but there’s more to it than that, although this is all in my reports, if you care to read them.’
‘I prefer to talk things through,’ Sean told him.
‘Fine,’ Canning said with a slight nod of his head. ‘The point is the strangulation was highly efficient. Whoever did it knew exactly what they were doing. They must have been trained and well-practiced. And they’re strong, extremely strong. I’d be thinking military, or perhaps someone who is an expert in martial arts. The levels of hormones, adrenalin, endorphins, etcetera, show that death was swift.’
‘So he kills them with complete efficiency, then takes the time to mutilate their bodies,’ Sean spoke out loud. ‘It’s as if his emotional cycle is the wrong way around.’
‘I don’t follow,’ Canning admitted.
‘Killers of this type go from a state of rage to a state of calmness,’ Sean explained, ‘but this one seems to go from a state of calmness to a state of rage. Do you think they were raped?’
‘As I’ve already stated, it’s difficult to tell,’ Canning answered. ‘All the victims were known prostitutes, so all had signs of recent sexual intercourse, but none had any significant vaginal injuries that would make rape a certainty.’
‘So he could have had consensual sex with the victims before he killed them?’ Sean suggested.
‘He could have,’ Canning agreed.
‘Or he could have been having consensual intercourse with them while he was killing them.’
‘I suppose so,’ Canning conceded. ‘All of the victims had traces of skin and blood under their fingernails, so we know they tried to fight him off, but whether that was before or after intercourse I couldn’t say.’
‘Does any of this matter?’ Townsend broke in. ‘I mean we’ll never be able to prove he raped them, unless he admits to it, so shouldn’t we just concentrate on finding him and pinning him down for the murders?’
‘If we want to find him quickly then we need to understand him,’ Sean argued. ‘I need to understand why he does this, not just how he does it.’
‘And what d’you understand?’ Townsend asked. ‘What’s any of this helped you understand?’
‘His cycle of emotions,’ Sean told her. ‘His desires and his fears.’
‘He’s a probable rapist and a murderer of women,’ Townsend snapped at him. ‘Who cares about his desires and fears?’
‘It’ll help me find him,’ Sean insisted. ‘Maybe even show me a way to trap him.’
‘So what is it you see?’ Canning asked, his eyes narrowing with interest in Sean’s unorthodox approach.
‘He desires them,’ Sean began. ‘That’s what drives him onto the streets to search for them in the rain. They remind him of someone close to him, from his past – his mother, a sister, an old girlfriend – I don’t know yet. But he’s calm too – not in a rage or panic. If the circumstances aren’t right or he can’t find someone who looks enough like that which he desires he’ll wait for another time.’
‘And when he finds them?’ Townsend pushed.
‘He rapes them,’ Sean concluded. ‘Consensual intercourse wouldn’t be enough. Whoever the person is the women remind him of, she used to have power over him, so now he wants the power over them. But once the rape is over he’s repulsed by them and by what’s he’s done. He wants to be rid of them quickly and efficiently, so he strangles them.’
‘So why not just dump their bodies and take off?’ Townsend questioned. ‘Why the violence after they’re already dead?’
‘Because now he hates them,’ Sean tried to explain. ‘Hates them for what they’ve made him do. His guilt and anger overcome him. He goes from a state of calm desire to a state of guilt and rage that lasts long enough for him to still be raging even after spending time looking for a secluded place where he can display his anger and hatred by mutilation. No doubt the longer he’s with the body, the greater his rage becomes, although he never travels far from where he killed them to where he mutilates them.’
‘You can’t know that,’ Townsend argued. ‘We have no idea where any of the victims were actually killed.’
‘Trust me,’ Sean told her. ‘He didn’t travel far. He wasn’t looking for distance, just solitude.’
‘Whatever,’ Townsend shrugged, ‘but I don’t see how any of this is going to help us find him.’
‘I’m not a magician,’ Sean reminded her. ‘I can’t just hand you a name, address and signed confession, but we build up the picture – consider everything and eventually we’ll be able to see everything. Everything will become clear.’
***
He drove as slowly as he dared searching the back streets of Camden and King’s Cross, careful to avoid the newly-developed area around the train stations and the ubiquitous CCTV that swamped the streets – not that the person he sought would want to be captured on camera any more than he did. He hunted his quarry in the old, decaying back streets of this part of north London, searching in the shadows under the railway arches and bridges for the vulnerable creatures of the night.
The heavy rain continued to pound on the roof and obscure his windscreen – the wipers of the old car struggling to keep up with the unyielding downpour. Now and then he had to lean forward and wipe condensation from the inside of the window – the dark clouds making the night pitch black as he strained to see into the hiding places where he knew some potential prey for the Great Serpent would be sheltering.
As he cruised under an old metal railway bridge the car fell silent, protected from the hammering rain. A shadow behind one of the heavy pillars caught his eye, the presence confirmed by the glow from a cigarette. He felt his heart skip a beat, but he remained calm and in control as he drove under the bridge, straining to see. As he glided closer to the pillar his excitement rose to levels he’d not experienced since leaving Hong Kong – the realization he may have at last found what he’d been searching for momentarily threatening to destroy his composure. He quickly recov
ered himself – the Great Snake that he’d become always in control.
He drove under the bridge and out once more into the thundering rain, performing a U-turn in the deserted street – an act he knew would attract the attention of the person under it. He headed back towards the bridge, but pulled over before reaching its shelter, the rain still drenching his car as he wound the window down a few inches. It was enough for the creature in the shadows to realize what was happening and come out into the light – walking at first, but then running as she headed into the rain. The closer she came the more his heart sang with happiness as he realized she was indeed exactly what he’d been waiting for all this time. He’d had to make do with the others, but she was perfect – almost. As she peered through his partially open window her beauty almost robbed him of the ability to speak.
‘You looking for some company?’ she asked in a slight London accent. ‘I said are you looking for company?’ she repeated more loudly, knocking him from his daydream state.
‘Sure,’ he stammered.
‘You okay?’ she asked, trying to assess if he represented a danger.
‘Yeah,’ he managed to say. ‘Just a little nervous. Get in.’
‘We haven’t discussed terms yet,’ she had to almost shout above the incessant rain. ‘Don’t you want to know how much?’
‘Too much rain,’ he told her with a smile. ‘You’re getting soaked. We can discuss business in the car.’ She looked deep into his face for a few seconds. ‘Come on,’ he encouraged. ‘It’s warm and dry in here.’
‘Okay,’ she relented before scurrying around to the passenger’s side and clambering inside, shaking water from the transparent waist-length raincoat that displayed her petite body and small breasts to full advantage in a tight, black lace bra for any would-be customers to see. As soon as she closed the door he pulled away from the kerb – using his years of training to calm and control himself. ‘Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?’ the young woman asked, her brown, oval eyes burning into the side of his head. ‘You don’t know if you can afford me yet.’
‘Money’s no problem,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll pay what you want.’
‘In that case we’ll call it a hundred – straight sex only. Nothing heavy. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ he agreed and kept driving. He wanted desperately to reach out and touch her, to feel her warmth and taste her skin. He wanted to take her there and then, but discipline ensured he didn’t – that he stuck to the plan.
‘Turn left here and keep going,’ she directed him. ‘I know a place we can go where we won’t be disturbed.’
‘Okay,’ he agreed again, glancing sideways at her as he drove – her likeness to the woman she now replaced hypnotized him.
‘So why me?’ she asked. ‘Looking for a taste of the old country?’
‘Maybe,’ he managed to speak.
‘Not many like me working the streets,’ she told him. ‘I guess this is your lucky night.’
‘I guess,’ he replied as he noticed the track marks in both her forearms from intravenously injecting the drug of her choice – just like the marks in his mother’s forearms. ‘Heroin?’ he asked, matter of fact.
She self-consciously folded her arms. ‘You’re not some sort of fucking do-gooder are you?’
‘No,’ he told her.
‘You a cop?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘No,’ he smiled slightly. ‘No cop. Just interested – that’s all. It’s your business. You speak Mandarin?’
‘No,’ she told him, looking out of the window into the rain. ‘I speak a little Cantonese. My parents taught me. I was born and raised here. I went back a couple of times, but … You?’
‘Shanghai,’ he answered truthfully, ‘and some time in Hong Kong, but here now.’
‘You like it here?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he told her flatly. ‘Where to now?’
‘Turn left up ahead,’ she explained. He followed her instructions without speaking until he found himself in a deserted street with wasteland on either side. ‘All part of the redevelopment of King’s Cross,’ she pointed out. ‘One side’s going to be a hotel and the other a shopping mall. Soon there’ll be nowhere left for a girl to do business. London will be the purest, cleanest city in the world, full of rich and beautiful people only. No place for people like us.’ He suddenly became acutely aware of her sadness. ‘Pull over here. Anywhere is fine. We won’t be disturbed.’ He let the car glide to a stop and killed the lights as the rain continued to hammer down. She flicked the overhead light on. ‘Let me see the cash,’ she demanded. ‘Money before ass.’
He pulled a thick wedge of notes from his inside jacket pocket, peeled off two fifty-pound notes and handed them to her. She plucked them from his fingers and quickly pushed them into a little clipped purse he hadn’t noticed before. ‘It’ll be easier in the back,’ she explained as she opened the door and climbed out, the sudden sound of the rain outside invading the car for a second before she slammed the door shut, only for it to momentarily return as she clambered into the rear. He breathed in deeply through his nose before moving from the front to the back of the car. The brief moment in the fresh air, the cold rain on his face, refreshed his body and mind before he closed the door – the car’s interior becoming immediately hot and uncomfortable, the air stale and heavy.
No sooner had he closed the door than she reached for his belt, making him recoil slightly with surprise and grab her wrist. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘I haven’t got all night.’ He released her and leaned back into the seat as she nimbly undid his belt and trouser button before pulling down his zip. Without ceremony she pulled his already erect penis from his underpants and held it in her hand. ‘Looks like you’re ready,’ she told him as she raised the condom packet in her other hand to her mouth and ripped it open. His hand flew towards her and grabbed her wrist.
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘No condom.’
She started to shake her head. ‘Look, Mister, I always use protection – for your benefit as much as mine.’
‘No condom,’ he demanded.
‘Then no fucking,’ she told him and released his still erect penis, but as she reached for the door handle he seized her, moving more quickly than she could have imagined as he gripped her around the throat with one hand. His other hand tore at her underwear before his weight fell on her and pushed her legs apart. He forced his way into her, both hands now around her throat as he rutted violently, quickly reaching climax as his powerful fingers ripped the life from her.
He felt her frail body go limp and looked down at her – her lifeless eyes bulging wildly, her mouth slightly open, the realization she was dead slowly dawning on him. Alive, she was everything he desired, but now, in death, she revolted him – made him ashamed of what he was and what he’d done. She had sold herself to the streets and she had tempted and seduced him, made him weak and sordid, just like he’d seen his mother make the men who came to visit her.
He felt the anger rising – his hatred for the dead woman lying underneath him stirring the Great Snake and making him strong again, more than just a man. He pulled himself from inside her and fastened his trousers before slipping from the car back into the still pouring rain – checking along the street for signs of life and finding only the almost deafening sound of the rainfall. With the strength the beast gave him he reached back inside the car and grabbed the dead girl by the ankles, pulling her towards the open space – easily lifting her out and over his shoulder. He checked the street once more before moving quickly across the pavement and onto the surrounding wasteland, carrying her weight effortlessly as his anger at what she was – what she’d made him do – continued to rise, making his muscles tauter and tauter as the beast overtook the man.
Not once did he stumble or lose his footing as he skipped over the loose stones and rubble searching for a place to lay her down. Less than a minute later he pulled her from his shoulder and allowed her to fall heavily to the ground – her he
ad landing with a sickening thud. He slipped the knife from its concealed shoulder holster and dropped to his knees, straddling her hips, taking hold of her transparent raincoat and slitting it open with the blade before cutting her bra away – baring her chest and abdomen – the rain splashing wildly off her naked skin.
‘You see what you get?’ he screamed at her. ‘You see what happens when you tempt the Great Serpent? You bring death. You bring death to yourself.’ He raised the knife high into the rain before burying it deep into her chest. Her heart and valves had long since stopped pumping blood around her body, but to him she was still a living thing – a living thing that needed to die. He twisted and pulled the knife from her body and again thrust it deep into her chest – her body twitching as if she was still alive each time he yanked the knife from her, only to force the blade back into her over and over again.
***
It was almost 5am when Sean arrived at the crime scene close to King’s Cross. Only an hour earlier he’d been in bed with his wife, Kate, not that either of them had had much sleep as they took it in turns to attend to their newborn baby Louise. He’d been almost glad to receive the phone call telling him he was needed immediately – the perfect excuse to escape the house and the tension a non-sleeping newborn could bring. But now he was here, in the dark, cold and rain, approaching the taped-off cordon, he’d have given almost anything to be back in the warmth of his own home, no matter how much Louise cried for attention.
He flashed his warrant card to the two uniformed officers who stood guarding the entrance to the scene and gave them his name for the Crime Scene Log, before ducking under the tape and heading for the lone figure standing holding and umbrella about fifty metres away. As he grew closer he recognized the figure as DI Ramsay. Once he reached Ramsay’s side he could see the blue plastic sheet on the ground next to him that he correctly assumed covered the latest victim of the man he hunted. Ramsay turned his collar up against the rain, but never looked away from the plastic sheet as he spoke. ‘Shit weather,’ was how he greeted Sean.