Then, from the back of the room, at the bottom of the cellar steps, another voice spoke. “Mummy?” Poppy Sawyer said. “Are you okay?”
Chapter 22
Arthur span round to see Poppy standing there in her Barbie nightie, holding a teddy bear almost as big as herself by the arm. Next to her, in his Buzz Lightyear pyjamas stood her brother Zack. Both looked confused by the scene that lay before them but it wasn’t until Arthur turned to face them that they were able to see Richard Maddox and the fountains of blood pumping from the horrific gouges in his shoulders. They were also able to see Arthur in all his murderous glory; balaclava, skinning knife, a huge pistol holstered under his arm and a long, evil looking machete poised to castrate their step-father. If Freddy Kruger had a brother it was Arthur Khan, covered in blood and looking scarier than any nightmare they had experienced in their short lives.
Angie turned awkwardly, bound to the chair by duct tape, her eyes full of tears and terror. “Don’t hurt them,” she squealed at Khan, “Please don’t hurt them!”
As she said it Poppy started to scream, a long, piercing unrelenting sound. Then Zack started too.
“Shut up!” Arthur barked. “Shut up that noise!”
Scared out of her wits, Poppy dropped her teddy bear and fled back up the cellar steps, screaming hysterically as she went.
Arthur dropped the machete and pulled out the shiny Desert Eagle and fired. The shot hit the wall just to the side of Poppy, blasting away a large chunk of breeze block. She squealed but carried on going, the sound of her mother’s pleading sobbing in the background as she begged Arthur Khan to let her children live.
Poppy had nearly made it to the cellar door as Arthur took aim but as he fired Zack flung himself in the way to protect his little sister.
The boy did not stand a chance as he flew backwards onto the cold stone steps, his head exploding like a ripe melon.
Arthur did not skip a beat as he raced over to the stairs leapt over the dead child’s body and up the stairs in pursuit of the girl who had now made it through the cellar door and was running, terrified, through the kitchen.
Angie Sawyer was manic as she wailed from the basement, deep, harrowing sobs as she fought to be free of the chair, wrestling to be near her son and willing her young daughter to freedom. But then, momentarily silencing her screams there was another loud shot from upstairs. A minute or so passed as Angie prayed - prayed that their attacker had missed and that little Poppy had escaped. But then her whole world collapsed as Khan re-appeared at the top of the cellar stairs with a small body flung over one shoulder, dressed in a bloody Barbie nightdress.
Arthur placed Poppy’s body down gently on the settee, with the wound in her back facing away from Angie who was now almost paralysed with grief. Unable to speak, move or even think clearly. Her children were dead and she had been powerless to protect them.
Khan knew that it was over. The sound of the gunshots would travel in the silence of the dawn. Trouble would no doubt soon be on its way.
He holstered the Magnum and picked up the machete. Time to end it. He wandered over to Maddox who had long since passed out from pain and blood loss. His head hung limply and Arthur raised the machete and finished him.
He then walked back to Angie. “You didn’t know anything after all, did you?” He said.
Angie raised her face to him, but she had no words, only sorrow and pain and loss. Arthur raised the machete again. “Sorry,” he said, then swung it sharply downwards, sending her to meet her children in a safer place.
* * *
Arthur Khan got back to his Range Rover as the sun was rising. His clothes were covered in blood, as was his skinning knife and machete. Calmly, Arthur stripped off his clothes and bundled them into a plastic bin bag that he’d brought along for the purpose. Then he cleaned his knife and placed it, along with the machete and the Magnum, in a canvas bag in the boot, zipping it up securely afterwards. After changing into a sweatshirt, jogging trousers and a pristine pair of Nikes, he climbed into the Range Rover and headed back to the main road.
The fire engine passed him, going in the opposite direction, about a half mile later. Following, almost immediately, two police cars sped by.
Arthur checked the rear view mirror and in the growing daylight could just make out the glow of the fire and the clouds of black smoke billowing into the early morning sky. The Fire Brigade would have little hope of salvaging anything, the flames had taken hold quickly and were already licking the upstairs roof beams before Arthur had made it halfway back across the field.
The mission had failed. Firstly, he had found out nothing more than he already knew. Jake Sawyer had gone and his family definitely did not know where he was. Sumpter was unfortunately correct.
Secondly, Arthur’s presence at the house had not been as clean as he would have liked. He had lost control. The red mist had descended and he now bitterly regretted the rape but he had not been able to stop himself. The same thing had happened in Africa. Arthur knew that it was a power thing - something about him being dominant and the woman being defenceless. But Angie Sawyer was an English woman, a civilized woman, not some worthless savage. It was obviously an issue that he was going to have to work on.
Then there was the children. He had hoped he would not have to harm them, but once they started screaming he had no choice but to use the Magnum. Quick and effective - although messier than he would have preferred.
Nonetheless, three loud shots had rung out. Someone in the village was bound to have heard and called the police.
Working quickly, Arthur had carried all the bodies up into the living room then set the house ablaze. He waited just long enough to make sure the flames took hold, then exited the same way as he entered.
Now, less than two hours after entering Maddox’s house, he was on his way back to London, still no closer to finding the missing diamonds. The whole wasted trip had been for nothing.
* * *
Whether it was human error, or bad policing, or just a terrible mistake, Coyle didn’t know, but his message was never logged, never actioned and never pursued. And it cost Angie Sawyer, Richard Maddox and two young children their lives.
* * *
Peter Bearing was incandescent with rage. For an emotionless man, the dam had well and truly burst.
“You bloody fool, Arthur,” he shouted. “What on earth were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry, Peter,” Khan replied, but I was trying to find out what they knew. Sumpter’s taking too long–”
“I know he’s taking a long time. He said it would didn’t he? It’s only been a few weeks Arthur for godsakes - what were you expecting, miracles?”
“But Sumpter–” Khan began, but Bearing cut him off again.
“Forget Sumpter, this has nothing to do with him. This is about you and what you have done. Not only have you quite literally burned a source of information that may well have proved exceptionally valuable in the weeks or months that possibly lay ahead of us in our search. But you’ve also given the police cause to jump to any number of conclusions. Why, for example, were Sawyer’s family murdered for one? What made them so damned important? What did they know that was enough to get them killed? These are questions, Arthur, that the police might well be asking. And if I were any half decent detective I’d be pretty keen to find some answers.”
“But the diamonds, Peter. We need to get them back,” said Khan.
“Of course we do.” Replied Bearing. “And we will. Mark my words. But we’ve got to give Sumpter time. If there’s anyone out there trying to sell that many diamonds, Sumpter will find them. And if it is this Sawyer, and I’m almost certain it is, then Aaron will get him. Jake Sawyer is a graphic designer, an artist, not an expert in international espionage. What on earth does he know about selling black-market diamonds?
“What I suspect it is with you, Arthur, is vengeance
. You want it for Charles and I quite understand. And you will have it, my friend, but you’ve got to be in it for the long haul. Unfortunately, I suspect all your nocturnal activities did last night was set us back some considerable time. We must now let the dust settle and wait for the police to lose interest. But behind the scenes, Sumpter will be working away. He’ll turn something up, you’ll see.”
“You’re right, Peter, of course, and I’m sorry”, Khan said. “I shall just have to wait. I see that now. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I don’t trust Sumpter, I never have. The man’s got his own agenda, I’m sure of it.”
“We shall see, Arthur. Time will tell. At the moment, Aaron has my complete confidence, but if he gives me reason to doubt him, then we’ll deal with him as necessary. But for now we wait. Agreed?
“Agreed,” Khan said. “We’ll wait. For now.”
Chapter 23
Jake had been travelling for much of the last few weeks, trying to enjoy his new life without the stress and worry of before. He was free to do what he wanted now and even after paying off all his debts, which in reality only used up a very small proportion of the money Hugo van Elst had given him for the diamonds, he still had more than enough to live comfortably on for many years.
From Zurich he had taken a flight to Tokyo and from there he had flown to Sidney. He and Angie had always said they would like to travel and spent many hours during the happier times planning holidays that they may have at sometime in the future. However, now Jake could afford it, he was finding it hard to enjoy himself. It was not the same without Angie or the kids.
In his luxurious hotel room with views of the magnificent harbour and Sidney’s famous opera house, Jake decided that it was time to go home. Back to England, back to his kids and, hopefully, back to Angie if she would have him, although he knew that would be a tough battle to win. But he would not give up, he would fight for her, try to earn her respect again, try to win back her love.
On his way home, he flew from Sidney to Los Angeles and from there onto New York where he intended to do some shopping, get Zack and Poppy a few souvenirs, maybe buy Angie some Jimmy Choos - he would have bought her a diamond but for the time being he had seen quite enough of them - besides, he had a whole case full locked safely in a vault in Zurich. She could have her pick.
But he was getting ahead of himself. Firstly he had to make himself a bit more presentable, take a bit more pride in his appearance, make himself look a bit more like the Jake she fell in love with.
He checked himself in to the Waldorf Astoria under the name of John Sinclair, the name on yet another of his passports. He laughed at himself for having had four made up. Talk about being over cautious, he thought. No one knew who he was or that it was he who had stolen the diamonds - he did not even have the diamonds with him anymore so there was nothing to tie them to him. He was safe and clear and as soon as he got back to England he could forget all this cloak and dagger business and become Jake Sawyer once again.
He stepped out of the shower and towelled off his new buzz cut and cleanly shaven chin, courtesy of the hotel’s barbershop. It took all of two seconds to dry and he couldn’t think why he had not done it years ago. He studied himself in the mirror, short hair, no beard, newer, more stylish glasses. He certainly looked different, younger too.
As he walked out of the bathroom feeling clean and refreshed, there was a soft knock at the door and he immediately tensed. Being wary had recently become something of a habit.
“Who is it?” He called, his English accent immediately apparent.
“Room service, sir,” came the reply.
“Just a minute,” Jake said as he pulled on a complimentary hotel robe and strode over to the door.
He peered through the spy hole, then, satisfied, he opened the door and accepted the trolley, dropping the hotel waiter a twenty for his trouble.
“Thank you very much, sir,” said the waiter.
“No problem, goodnight.” Jake shut the door and pushed the trolley into the room. On it was a large silver plate cover that was keeping his double cheeseburger nice and toasty.
Jake was weary from travelling, sick of aeroplanes, he needed a good night’s sleep and something to eat. The burger would do nicely. He lifted the cover off the plate and saw what he had been fantasising over for hours. New York’s finest; cheese, bacon and beef with a double portion of fries and a strawberry shake. Excellent.
He sat down on the bed and took a bite of the burger. It didn’t disappoint.
His brand new laptop was open on the bed and he turned it to face him. He had stopped off at the Apple Store on Fifth Avenue on the way from the airport and treated himself to the very best one they had with the highest possible spec. Seventeen inch screen, dual core, eight gigs of memory, wifi, bluetooth, the works. He also bought himself a brand new iPhone to replace the one he had ditched several weeks ago in the English Channel. He bought the kids an iPod each too. What the hell.
He sparked up the web browser and navigated to the live streaming on the BBC News website to find out what was happening in the UK.
Jake took another bite of the burger, the juice running down his now cleanly shaven chin, but he did not care. He was starved. The news anchorman was talking away in the background about some horrific fire, saying that a whole family had been killed.
Jake was not really listening as he was more interested in the cheeseburger, but then he heard the word ‘Northamptonshire’ and his ears pricked up. He stared at the screen and listened more intently.
And that was when his whole world fell apart.
‘Mrs Angela Sawyer, Mr Richard Maddox and Mrs Sawyer’s two young children, were all found dead at the scene.’ The news anchor said. ‘The two children, Zack aged nine and Poppy, just seven, are also thought to have been shot, although police have not yet confirmed this. However, they have confirmed that this is being treated as a murder enquiry. A spokesman said that because of their horrific injuries, the badly burned bodies were identified through dental records. As yet, there is no sign of the children’s father, Mr Jake Sawyer, who, according to neighbours, has been missing for some weeks.’
Jake suddenly felt like he had been kicked hard in the gut and he bent over and threw up the burger onto the carpet.
“Oh Christ, oh my bloody Christ, no. Please, please, no!” He wailed. Tears flooded his vision as he watched in utter despair.
It was his fault, he realised, with abject horror. They had all died because of him, because of what he had done. Because he had been so selfish, so weak, so unbelievably stupid. He even had the arrogance to think that he had got away with it, never once thinking that his family would be at risk. That they might be murdered.
Tears were now streaming down his cheeks, his body heaving as he sobbed uncontrollably, sickeningly aware that his reckless actions had caused this terrible thing to happen.
* * *
Two days later, after much grieving and crying and hard soul searching, Jake was still struggling to believe what had happened. He had neither eaten or slept in nearly forty-eight hours and now he just felt numb. Completely bereft.
The rolling news had been playing on the laptop constantly and each time the report came on it was equally as traumatic as the first time Jake heard it, but he needed to understand everything. There was a fire, but also a murder. Zack and Poppy had been shot. Angie and Maddox murdered too. Both decapitated is what the reporters were now saying. He could barely bring himself to think about what they had suffered.
But he knew, without question, that the murderer was looking for him and that was why they were killed.
Jake’s initial thought was to end it all, just as he should have done all those weeks ago, up on that bridge. But that would have been the coward’s way out. Nothing would bring Angie, Zack and Poppy back, certainly not jumping out of the window of the Waldorf Astoria.
&n
bsp; Jake knew, beyond doubt, that he would feel guilt for their murders every day of his life. It would always be with him and he deserved it to be. And that would be his punishment. A self-imposed life sentence. But within that sentence he could try to make some restitution. He did not know who it was who had killed his family nor did he have the first clue about how to go about finding them but he did know that they were looking for him and that one day they would surely find him, no matter how many times he changed his name or switched location.
But he also knew that when that day came, he would be ready. They owed him a debt of four lives and they were going to pay for every single one.
Chapter 24
Roper Coyle pushed a hand through his messy hair and sighed with frustration. He glanced across at Eckhart’s empty desk, the cards of congratulations still sitting on top of his computer monitor.
Dave’s wife, Lucy, had given birth to their first child, a daughter called Gemma, two days ago and he was on paternity leave.
But it was of little importance where the case was concerned as every lead had gone cold, every snippet of information had dried up and they had nowhere left to go with it.
Northamptonshire Police were still busy with the murder hunt, trying to find the killer of Angie Sawyer and her family, but so far nothing had turned up that could lead to a suspect. At least not officially. But again, Roper’s gut was telling him otherwise.
The only real evidence, which could possibly be argued against in a court of law, was the ballistics report from the forensic team. A bullet, very bent and misshapen and completely charred had been pulled from the cellar steps at Richard Maddox’s burned out house, and was ‘consistent’ with having been fired from a .357 Magnum. It was also consistent with a hole found in Zack Sawyer’s tiny skull.
Not much to go on in itself, but when coupled with the knowledge that Charles Khan was found with a Desert Eagle .357 Magnum, it started to raise one or two questions. Such as, did Arthur Khan own one too?
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