by P. R. Black
Her first instinct was suspicion.
Then she saw the purse lying just a few yards away. A golden clasp against dark brown leather.
An accident? Someone had dropped it in a hurry.
Maybe an assault?
She might see a body peeking out from between the bushes a little further up. But there was no sign of any feet protruding from any foliage, no arms wrapped around the trees that fringed the pathway. Freya gripped the purse, stooping somewhat to do so. There’d be a name in there – she could turn it into the police tomorrow, plus all the money.
No sooner had her hand closed around the leather than something bit her, hard, around the calf muscle of her right leg. For one absurd moment she thought: shark!
It enclosed her whole leg; then there was a smart snapping sound, and then the world spun about. Everything was inverted; the black of the night traded positions with the forest; blood surged to her head.
The bike fell, the back wheel spinning, and the light splashing across the brown dirt path. She was off the ground, and upside down.
Whatever had bit her, bit down harder. She flailed and thrashed, then reached up towards the source of the pain.
It was a rope. She had been snared.
‘Oh no,’ was all she could say, ‘oh no, oh no, oh no, you must be joking…’
‘No joke,’ said a grating voice.
She heard him, but didn’t see him, until he was right upon her. She swiped and clawed at the sudden, terrifying shadow, so dense as to swallow even night, but there was no impact. Freya swung in the air like a pendulum.
Something snapped over her face; her breath was caught within it, and the world misted over. A face mask. She screamed, but it was totally muffled, and two hands caught hold of her hands, tight, stopping the swaying.
‘That’s it,’ someone said. ‘We’re nearly home, now. Almost there.’
The voice faded. Freya couldn’t even have sworn that she was entirely unconscious, but the night, the spinning wheel, the headlight and the bright green grasses it illuminated faded away.
52
Hello there! Well. This is a treat, and no mistake. No mistake!
Whoa. Drove a little bit too fast, there. Don’t want to get stopped by the cops. Not tonight, of all nights! Whew. I’m excited. Probably I should calm down. Let’s all take it easy, eh?
Your head will feel a bit fuzzy. Things will seem strange. Sights, sounds… Take a moment, as they say these days. Come around. Get some deep breaths.
And don’t struggle, or I will split you lengthwise.
You know, I’ve never done that before to someone? Not longitudinally. Transversely, yes. Half and half, yes. What a job that was! The two bodies in the weir, I did it to both of them. You ever see that film, The Pit And The Pendulum? Oh, they saw it coming, too. They both got it. Lovely job, both of them. My peak. Until tonight, maybe? I love my work. Absolutely love my work.
And whatever you do, don’t scream. It hurts my ears, and there’s just no need. OK?
Don’t struggle, I said. Don’t bang the side of the van. It’ll be disappointing to stop and just cut your throat, but that’s what I’ll do if you give me any trouble.
Either of you.
Just sit there quietly, take some deep breaths, and conserve energy. All right? That’s the best thing for you to do. Keep something in reserve. You’re going to need it.
You are in a very privileged position. Not many folk in your shoes actually get to live the dream, you know? It’s exciting for me, too. I was reading that website of yours, Freya. You and the gormless-looking bastard with the glasses. You know the guy I mean. You’ve been so, so busy. You did so well with the clues. But you must’ve known this night would come. Surely you got yourself ready for it? Mentally, at least. You must have known I’d come for you. Took a lot of studying. Checking your route. You take a risk going through that path, day or night, let me tell you. Some nerve. You might meet some right evil bastard one night! Hah!
And as for you, my lovely… You get to be in on it. Further than you ever thought possible. I wonder if you thought Solomon was the one, after all? Wonder if he told you that he was?
We’ve not got long to go. You’ve both been out for quite some time. Best that way. I do worry that something’s going to go wrong, and I’m going to lose one of my people, one day.
You’ve been let into a secret, in fact. My MO for capturing people. They never quite figured it out. But now you both know. Yeah, that’s how I did it. Same way I got you. The snare, the gas. So effective. Dodgy, but I’ve never lost anyone yet. Apart from the bitch I had to cosh. Screamed a bit too loudly. Had to think better of it. But by and large, it works. You’re never fully unconscious, you know. Just sedated. It’s better than pulling people over, better than asking for directions, all of these things.
I stalk victims, for ages. The books and websites were right about that. I took my time, and studied routes. Like I studied yours. It’s so much easier to trace someone when they travel by bike. Or if they’ve got a running route. If you’d taken a bus or walked the streets, it would be so much harder to get you in the back of the van. But you like going to quiet places, Freya. And that was your mistake.
So, yeah, I set the snare, then leave a trail of breadcrumbs. Banknotes, hard cash… it would make anyone a mark. You see a tenner on the ground somewhere, you pick it up. Anyone would. Hey, I would… and I’m the fucking Woodcutter!
Then I get busy with the gas. A nice tank of it attached to a mask. It’s the same stuff you used to get at the dentist’s. I make it myself these days. You don’t get it so much any more, there’s been a bit of a change in the law. But the good stuff, that puts you out of reach. Nice and calm, nice and quick. Too much and you can flatline, but that would be bad news for everybody. That’s it, that’s the trick. Snare ’em, get the mask on ’em, they’re out. Bob’s your auntie. That’s what happened to them, that’s what happened to you.
Had to be a bit more of an opportunist with you, my love. You’re a smarter cookie than you look. Took more than a little chance, creeping up behind you. That’s the thing about smoking, it’s an underground habit, these days. Have to go into alleyways and creepy little corners to do it. Hey, you know, those things’ll kill you! Ha!
Do you know, Freya, when I saw your dad in the papers, it coaxed me out of retirement? I guess you could say the new ones are your fault. When you find something you like, it’s hard to give it up, eh?
And now, finally, it’s your turn. Beautiful, you must admit. All ties together.
I can’t wait for your specky boyfriend to find you. That’s going to be a good one. I might hang around to watch that happen. I might even let him know I’m there. I like to give folks a scare. A scare you won’t believe, in fact. Won’t be long now!
You can’t see it, but it’s so dark out here. A nice moonlit night. You’ll just about be able to see where you’re going. And that is very important. Have you pissed yourself there, Freya? No? Smells a bit like it. That can happen, of course. Don’t think it was your lawyer friend, there. It’d have shown on her dress a bit more. Ah, never mind. This piece of shit van’s getting torched not long after I dump your bits and pieces. You’ll leave no trace. Nothing that I don’t want people to find, anyway.
We’re just about here. I’ll take a quick drive around, make sure there’s absolutely no one here. Dog walkers pop up in all sorts of weird places. So do doggers. No joke, I had to do a U-turn once – there were all sorts of shenanigans going on in the site I’d picked. The beauty of that was, no one was going to admit to seeing a van out there, were they? Dirty bastards.
Anyway. There we are. Quick turn around… Nope, all clear. Another turn… all clear, looking good. Yep. We’re clear. All alone!
Now I’ll let you into another trade secret. This is how it’s done. Your boyfriend’s theory is correct. What I like is the chase. I let them go, then I go after them. No one’s escaped, so far. Not one. But it’s a fair chase. I’m
going to come around and open the van door, now. You might be tempted to escape, but… you see this? Know what this is? That’s right. It’s a shotgun. I’m going to crack the stock, now… See that in there? That’s right. Two shells. I’ll put the first one in your knee, if either of you give me any trouble. Then you’ll have to crawl away, rather than run. Not that it’ll change the result. But it’ll be less interesting for me.
Now this is the interesting part. This is where I break new ground. You’re in a race for your life – with me. But you’re also in a race with each other. Settle down, girls. I’ll explain.
Well. Here we are. And here I am. Sorry about the mask. For the best. Just in case you get away. On the off chance.
What’s that? My goodness, Freya. That language! Your father would be ashamed if he could hear you.
Please don’t spit, either. Here’s Mr Shotgun again. It’s pointed right at the point of your knee. It’ll probably take the lower leg off. Don’t doubt me. All right? No more.
Good. Now. You can see where we are. This is a former quarry. There was a pit, just up over the brow of the hill, too. You might even recognise it. See that contraption up there? Looks like a dinosaur’s neck? That’s the former pit elevator. That’s your end goal. Reach that, you’re safe. Now, I can catch both of you, or just one of you. Whoever I get first, is obviously going to slow me down a little. So play this game tactically. Gads, I’ve been so excited about this! And here we are!
Funny old place, this. All kinds of corridors and walkways… I think they wanted this to be a nuclear site at one point. Cooling rods and what have you. They were going to expand it all, then either the money ran out or the government got a better offer. I can’t remember. Anyway, here we are. Some night, eh? A good night to die. I thought I was overstretching myself, taking two on at the same time. Digging out those old bodies and planting them in the weir gave me ideas, though. You’ve got to test yourself, haven’t you? You’ve got to go to the edge.
Now you have a trail around the old place – slag heaps and such. They’re thinking of turning it into a nature reserve, can you believe. ’Cos they can’t build houses on this land. It’ll fall into hell. There are a few bunkers they built here and there, sunk into the hills. Old crates and cabins. I think even the tramps are too smart to stay in them, now.
There are many ways you can go. Trails, dips, trenches, even one or two sharp drops. It’s up to you whether you pick the right way or not. Down the decline? There are pits down here, filled with water, algae, bacteria, you name it. There are coal bings and bunkers of varying types. However you choose to cross the ground towards the pit elevator is up to you. I’ll be following behind. Not with the shotgun, but with this.
And finally, look what I’ve got here… This is it. The original and best. I’ve used a few, but this is the first. I kept it, especially. The one best suited to the job, too.
I sharpened it – for you especially, Freya. It’s going to cut well. I think I might spare you the suffering, seeing as you’ve been such a good girl. I’ll try to get right through your neck, first go. Or maybe between the shoulder blades – that’d do it just as quickly.
But as for you, my legal eagle… all bets are off. Understood?
The rules are – one or both of you gets to the old pit shaft elevator, you win. You stay alive. I’ll leave the scene, and we’ll say no more about it. I can’t promise you’ll find anywhere nice to sleep, and to be honest, I don’t envy you a long walk through the forest in the middle of the night. Who knows where I might be hiding!
Heh. But no, seriously, you’ll be free. Of course, if I catch you, then… goodnight and God bless.
Pretty simple, eh?
Any tactics you might want to employ on your fellow captive at this stage… totally up to you, girls.
I’ll give you a minute to get your bearings. Once I cut the ties around your feet and hands, that’s the start. You get a thirty-second head start. Make it count.
53
It was hard to speak. Freya felt as if she had been gagged, and for all she knew, she had been. Her head throbbed and her throat was sore, and when she moved her head, she felt an appalling dizziness.
Opposite her, a white and gold blur that must have been Cheryl Levison struggled against her bonds.
Freya fought nausea down, licked her lips, and tried to make out the figure before her.
He was stood in the open doorway of the van, dressed in black, his face covered by a black beanie hat. It was difficult to make out what colour his eyes were. Wherever they were, they were under an open sky, with a mechanoid monster etched against the sky over his shoulder, as much as thirty feet high. She had no idea where she was, or how long she’d been out.
Freya was laid on her back, with cable ties at her ankles, her wrists bound behind her. On top of this situation, there was the crude threat of the shotgun barrels, pointed straight at her. In his other hand was a long-handled fire axe, with a red blade and a silver-sharp shiny edge. He could have blown her in half at the twitch of a finger. If he was more at his leisure, he could have chopped off a foot with a single swipe. She didn’t doubt he was capable.
The voice was more of a puzzle. Was it possible to have a portable voice changer fixed to a mask? It had to be so, though she couldn’t envisage how it worked in any practical sense. It made the voice porcine and grotesque, out here in the open. Freya was reminded of a previous partner who’d snored appallingly, so much so that she had opted to sleep on the couch, and then never went back, on account of it.
‘Guessed who I am yet?’
She shook her head. With full consciousness, now she felt the fear. Her heartbeat was out of control; even in the gloom she could now make out the veins ridged across the back of her hands. She doubted she could run. Apart from a stream of curses, she doubted she could speak.
‘I don’t believe that, you know,’ he said. ‘You’re a clever cookie. Haven’t you heard anything from our friends in the police? Some of those sources you’ve got? There’s a lot of doubt that it’s the same killer. Well, there’s no doubt, I can tell you.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ She had meant to sound defiant, but it was a squeak, a series of dry clicks. Could she be brave ever again? Could anyone. ‘Show me your face. I’ll tell you if I was right.’
The pig-voice laughed.
‘You’re not Solomon,’ Levison said. She was openly biting at the cable ties across her wrists, to no avail. Her eye make-up was streaming across her face, but there was something ferocious about this smudged aspect and even wilder hair – something of the warrior. ‘I know that for a fact.’
‘You can’t be sure though, can you? Height, body shape… voice is not giveaway…’ He chuckled again.
‘You could be Bernie Galvin,’ Freya croaked.
The amplified laughter hurt her ears. ‘It wasn’t him! I can guarantee you that,’ the masked figure croaked. ‘So, guess again. The original idea was to give your dear old dad a few months’ grace to find his feet, then chop someone to pieces. But things got the better of me. Things moved too fast. So I’ve gone for the star prize. You should be proud. In a way.’
‘Then I give up.’ Freya was out of options. Guile was not going to work. I’m going to have to run for my life. And what’re the odds of him telling the truth?
Or I can fight. I’ll find something to fight with.
Was that possible? Could she really do that? Out here, in the dark, with this nightmare?
But he is going to make me run. And Freya could run. That meant a chance. But she could not run blindly. She would assess where she was, and take a chance. If she had to face him, she’d make it awkward.
He’ll shoot me. There’s no way he’d have let the former squaddie get a head start on him without some unfair advantage. No way he could have made him run in the first place, without a gun.
Fine. He’ll shoot me. He’ll have to make me stand still first.
She tried to hold on to this feeling, gritting
her teeth against it. Her wiring quivered along the muscles of her arms, back and shoulders. She felt the potential energy building in every sinew; and then, as soon as this thought cleared her mind, her calf muscles cramped, and she cried out.
A low bass chuckle. ‘Point your toes up. That’ll do it. Sorry. That isn’t an advantage I wanted for myself, there. I had to tie you up. Hope you understand.’
‘Fuck you,’ Freya wheezed. But she did as he said, and the lightning bolt of pain up her leg muscle relented. She blinked, tried to focus again.
‘Now, here’s the thing. I’m going to cut your ties. Don’t forget I have the shotgun. I’ll back off. You try to run past me, to the top of the hill, and I’ll bring you down. One or both of you. You can doubt this all you want, and try it if you like. But that’s what’ll happen. Game over. And then you’re in pieces. You’ve got one direction to take. Run down the hill, towards the quarry, and then you’re in business. For a little while, anyway. I’m faster than I look.
‘Here it comes, now. I’m cutting your leg ties. Freya first. If you’re tempted to kick me in the balls, don’t. Look at the shotgun barrels. That’s it. Good. Now your hands. There you go. Take a stretch, I don’t mind. Get the circulation going. It all helps. You should see it, when the blood jets out. Nothing like it. Hey, you’re all limbered up already. Excellent. Now you, counsellor. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Be like Freya. Look at the shotgun. Look at where my finger is. That’s it. I honestly thought you’d do it, counsellor. I thought you’d do it. Now. Both out the van. Slowly. With your hands up. That’s good. In your own time, then. You ready?’
54
Freya slid her feet onto the ground. She was in a transit van of some kind – ancient, battle-scarred, possibly from an actual battlefield. Cheryl Levison pulled herself out. They both stood outside, their hands raised, breath steaming up in the cool air.
The Woodcutter gave them plenty of room. ‘Your time has started,’ he said. ‘I’d get moving, if I was you.’