by Luke Delaney
‘What’s he gonna do to him?’ Cathy asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘Said he might kill him.’
‘Jesus Christ, turn it off,’ she told him.
‘No,’ he insisted, never looking away from the screen. ‘I want to see what he does to him. I want to see the bastard squirm.’
Father Alex Jones sat in the small office in St Thomas More Catholic Church, Dulwich, watching and listening to the continuing monologue of the masked man. Instinct told him that this was no stunt – the man was deadly serious. His original reason for searching the Internet long forgotten, he pressed his hands tightly together and began to whisper prayers for both the victim and masked man – salvation for both and forgiveness for one.
‘Now I need you – my brothers and my sisters – to play your part. It’s time to judge. If you believe this man is guilty of crimes against the people then simply click on the like icon. If you believe he is innocent then click on the dislike icon. Once the judgement is made, the sentence will be carried out accordingly. One click, one vote. Don’t waste your time trying to make multiple votes. The Your View system only allows one vote per user.’
‘God forgive you,’ the priest, whispered as he clicked on the dislike icon, leaning away to watch how other viewers were voting. The like and dislike numbers were growing rapidly – but one far quicker than the other.
Mark Hudson watched the voting just as closely as the priest, but he was praying for a different outcome.
‘What’s happening?’ Danny asked.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ was Hudson’s only reply.
‘The people have voted and they have overwhelmingly found you guilty. Have you anything you want to say?’
‘This has gone far enough,’ Elkins shouted as the masked man momentarily disappeared from the screen. ‘You need to let me go now.’ His face twisted with terror. ‘You’ve made your point.’
There was the noise of metal on metal before the man reappeared with a length of rope – a noose tied at one end while the other looked to go straight to the ceiling, out of shot. The masked man looped the noose over the struggling Elkins, ignoring his writhing and bucking – ignoring his pleas.
‘Please don’t do this. Please. I haven’t done anything wrong. I can give the money back. You can have it. I just want to see my wife and children again. I’m a family man.’ But the man ignored him as he reached for another rope that seemed to hang from the ceiling.
‘The people have judged you, Mr Elkins. Now I must pass sentence. Your punishment shall be … death.’ Before Elkins could speak again, the man pulled the rope he was holding towards the floor, the rope attached to the noose around Elkins’s neck instantly growing taut, vibrating with tension as it lifted him, chair and all, from the floor. Terrible sounds came from behind Elkins’s gritted teeth as he fought desperately for his life.
‘Fucking hell,’ Hudson exclaimed, unaware that his two friends were backing away from the screen, their faces serious and pale while his beamed and glowed. ‘He’s hanging the fucker. He’s really doing it. Ha. This is fucking brilliant.’
Westbrook watched on as the older version of himself hung from the rope, still taped to the chair – the man’s eyes growing increasingly bulbous and grotesque – his mouth now open with his tongue protruding and writhing around like a dying lizard. He felt sick and scared all in the same moment. Someone wanted revenge – revenge against him and all his type. Which one of them would be next? He felt a shiver run up his spine.
‘I can’t watch this any more,’ Cathy told her husband. ‘I think I’m going to be sick. Turn it off.’ She reached for the computer’s power switch, but her husband pushed her hand away, eyes full of hate – although not for her.
‘Leave it,’ he ordered.
‘Please tell me you don’t want to watch this,’ she pleaded. ‘A man’s
being killed. Murdered. Why the hell do you want to watch it?’
‘Maybe he had it coming. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe they all do.’
‘Jesus, Phil,’ she told him. ‘No one deserves that.’
‘Don’t they?’ he asked. ‘And what about me? Did I deserve what happened to me? Did I deserve to lose everything?’
‘You just lost money, Phil. This is a man’s life.’ She turned and walked from the room. ‘I won’t be in the same room as this. I hope they catch the bastard and hang him.’ She left him sitting staring at the screen – a thin smile spreading across his face as he watched Elkins’s body finally go limp.
Click here to buy The Jackdaw
If you’re a DI Sean Corrigan fan, try the first in the series:
A KILLER WHO’LL NEVER STOP.
A DETECTIVE WHO’LL NEVER GIVE UP.
Click here to buy Cold Killing
If you’re a DI Sean Corrigan fan, try the second in the series:
HE’S GOING TO SAVE HER.
WHETHER SHE LIKES IT OR NOT.
Click here to buy The Keeper
If you’re a DI Sean Corrigan fan, try the third in the series:
HE SEES YOU WHEN YOU’RE SLEEPING.
Click here to buy The Toy Taker
COMING IN MARCH 2015
THE NEW DI SEAN CORRIGAN NOVEL
THE CRIME IS TREACHERY. THE SENTENCE IS DEATH.
Click here to buy The Jackdaw
About the Author
Luke Delaney joined the Metropolitan Police Service in the late 1980s and his first posting was to an inner city area of South East London notorious for high levels of crime and extreme violence. He later joined CID where he investigated murders ranging from those committed by fledgling serial killers to gangland assassinations.
Also by Luke Delaney
Cold Killing
The Keeper
The Toy Taker
The Jackdaw
About the Publisher
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