by Ellis, Tim
‘That’s what the rams and crows are for.’
‘Understood.’
Parish noticed that nobody was calling him “Sir”.
He carried the lead-shot filled battering ram by the strap on his shoulder. Heather had the crowbar. They both carried torches.
As they moved along the corridor peering into mostly empty rooms, he said, ‘How long have you been on the job, Heather?’
He was on the right of the corridor; she was on the left.
‘Three years, S... Shit.’
‘It’s all right; you can call me “Sir”. I’m not sure of the legality of it all, but I won’t actually be a Constable in Yorkshire until Monday, so I’m probably still a DI until then.’
‘You must have seriously pissed the higher-ups off?’
‘Yes, I must have, but I’m hoping that it’s all a big mistake, and things will be back to normal on Monday.’
‘Normal? I don’t think I’m familiar with that word, Sir.’
No, normal would mean Chief Day was in his office, Doc Michelin was in his mortuary, that stupid cow Richards was on the case with him, and Catherine Cox was chasing him for an exclusive. Normal wasn’t a word he should use as a murder detective – it was inappropriate in most circumstances, and he decided to delete it from his vocabulary.
They reached the end of the east-west corridor and turned left, which would take them a short distance north to a dead end. They would then have to turn round and head back the way they’d come and continue along the north-south corridor.
Most of the rooms were completely empty except for the odd piece of waste paper, dust, and lots of cobwebs. Some of the rooms, however, still had items in such as chairs, old hymnbooks, rusting trolleys and wheelchairs, operating lights and other medical equipment. It had all been abandoned as having no further use. He felt like an archaeologist venturing into Pompeii for the very first time.
Along this stretch of corridor they found two locked doors, and he had to use the battering ram on the metal doors to force a gap, and then prise them open with the crowbar. Inside were empty rooms.
He felt like Nero fiddling while Rome burned. Where the hell were Richards and Catherine? He had toyed with the idea of starting in the second sub-basement, thinking that the killers would choose the deepest, darkest place to keep their victims, but he decided to stick to his plan even though Yugai had said that no one ever went down to the second level. Waves of panic kept washing over him. He kept wondering, what if they were down there? What if they were being raped and dismembered while he was wasting time checking empty rooms? Afterwards, would he be able to live with himself, or look Angie in the eyes again? Also, he was conscious that he now had less than ten hours before he met with the Chief Constable and had to explain everything he’d been doing. The horrific deaths of a third victim, Richards, and a local journalist would certainly not be considered a success in any shape or form.
The radio crackled to life. ‘Are you there, Sir? Over and out.’
‘Have you ever used a radio before, Toadstone?’
‘There’s not much call for using radios in forensics.’
‘Well, let’s not clutter up the conversation with “overs” and “outs”.’
‘Okay, Sir. Over and...’
‘So, why have you contacted me?’
‘Oh yes. Steve Potts has rigged up a connection.’
He waited, but Toadstone didn’t say anymore.
‘And you’re going to tell me what happened when you plugged the lead in?’
‘Hello, Steve Potts here. The feed is showing us a naked woman strapped to a stainless steel table...’
‘Is it...?’
‘No, it’s not Constable Richards, and Paul says it’s not Catherine Cox either, so we’re assuming that it’s Louise Trenchard.’
‘Is there any indication where the room might be?’
‘No. As far as I can see there are no windows. The camera is looking down at the woman from the end where her feet are.’
‘Is the woman still alive?’
‘Yes, but I think she’s sleeping. She has a lot of cuts and bruises all over her body.’
‘Has Yugai got any idea where it might be?’
‘Hang on.’
There was a couple of minutes’ silence.
‘He says that the table is a mortuary table and Paul agrees, but he’s sure it’s not actually in the mortuary.’
‘Richards and I checked the mortuary the other day, and there was nothing there, but I’m near it now so I’ll take another look. What about the mortuary table? Where could that have come from?’
Silence again.
‘No, he doesn’t know. He says he hasn’t seen any on his travels in eighteen months.’
‘Thanks for trying, Steve.’
‘Hey, you’re welcome, and I hope it all goes well in Yorkshire.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ve got an idea, though...’
‘Sir?’ It was Toadstone again.
‘Yes?’
‘Steve’s got an idea.’
‘I think I got that, Toadstone. An idea about what?’
‘Sorry, don’t know, and he’s not here now. We’ll keep an eye on the woman and let you know if there’s any change in her circumstances – Over... and out.’
Although the discovery of the room wasn’t much help in terms of locating where the killers were keeping Louise Trenchard, and probably Richards and Catherine as well, it did confirm two things. First, the killers were somewhere in Harold Wood Hospital, and second, that he was searching in the right place. Hopefully it would just be a matter of time before they found the killers and all three women alive.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘They’re searching the hospital, Harry,’ Alva said as he entered the monitoring room and sat down.
‘I know,’ Harry said from his executive leather chair. ‘Let them- they won’t find us.’
‘They know who we are, and they have my picture.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Adrian. None of it matters, anymore.’ He put his hand on top of Adrian’s head, closed his eyes, and said softly:
‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table for me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’
‘Do you think the Lord will welcome us into His house after what we’ve done, Harry?’
‘We’ve been doing the Lord’s work, Adrian. All women are unclean.’
‘Some men are as well.’
‘Yes, some men also, Adrian.’
‘What are you going to do to our guests, Harry?’
‘You’ll see. I have a special night planned. Marty is opening up the shop tomorrow, so I have all the time in the world.’
Adrian could already feel his bishop getting hard. ‘And I can watch?’
‘For as long as you want.’
‘My next shift isn’t until Sunday.’
‘Then, my friend, we have a night of enjoyment before us.’ He stood up and let Adrian sit in his executive leather chair. ‘I shall first go and welcome our guests, and then we’ll put a show on for our audience.’
Adrian laughed and switched the view on the monitor from that of Louise Trenchard’s room to the one inside the security office. ‘You’re a genius, Harry.’
***
‘I’m so scared,’ Catherine said.
‘And I’m not?’
‘I can’t stop thinking about what he’ll do to me.’
‘You’ll have first-hand knowledge for your series of articles, the Voice of the Victim.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘What I can’t stand is the waiting. I just wish
he’d come in here now, rape me, chop me up, and have done with it.’
The metal key clanked in the lock.
‘It looks like your going to get your wish.’
Sounding like a second-rate sound effect from a horror film the door scraped open. A light from a torch bounced around the room, eventually settling on Richards.
‘Very nice,’ the man said as he reached Richards. He put his rough hand on her ankle and slowly began moving it up.
She tried wriggling to stop him touching her, but soon realised there was no point. She was tied up like a hog for the slaughter.
Over her knee, the small scar she’d got falling off her first bicycle because she made her father take the stabilisers off.
Up the inside of her thigh.
A finger brushed the inside of her labia majora – tears sprang into her eyes and cascaded down the side of her face. She so wanted to have a man who cared for her to touch her there, but instead all she got was a demented killer. Why couldn’t she find a real man to love her?
Across her flat trembling stomach.
Cupping her firm young breast he squeezed the nipple between thumb and forefinger, and then leaned down and licked it until it began to go hard.
She could smell his breath – ground coffee and garlic. He had bright blue eyes, a strong handsome face, and slightly long greying hair parted near the centre. This was the man in the pictures, without the rimless glasses, and without the dark brown hair and moustache. In a different place and time she might have found him attractive, and she could understand why the three victims had gone with him.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her lips gently. ‘Good girl. I can see we’re going to have a wonderful time together, you and me.’
He moved across the short gap to Catherine.
‘Don’t touch me you sick bastard.’
He brought his large hand up to the level of his shoulder, and then hit her across the face.
Catherine screamed and began sobbing.
‘That’s no way to talk to the man who’s going to give you hours of pleasure. You should take a lesson from your friend. If you fight me I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll wish you were dead.’
‘You fucking bastard.’
He raised his hand again, but this time his fist was clenched.
‘Don’t hit her anymore,’ Richards said. ‘I’ll talk to her.’
He relaxed and dropped his hand. ‘For you, sweet Mary. But next time I’ll break her arm.’
‘Thank you, Harry.’
‘Ah, you know my name as well – excellent. Now, I have a very important question for both of you, and if you lie to me I’ll make you suffer. When is your period due?’
He wrapped his left hand around Catherine’s throat, and put his right hand between her legs.
‘Monday,’ she said.
‘So soon! Once I’ve finished with the darling Louise, you’ll be next on my list, sweet Cathy.’
‘And you?’ he said turning to Richards.
‘Next Friday.’
‘Ah, we have some time for courting.’ He moved towards the door. ‘I have to go now, but I’ll be back later, and then we can begin our beautiful relationships.’
Once the door had closed and the key turned in the lock, Richards said, ‘It’s no good fighting him. He’s going to do what he wants with you whether you like it or not. If you fight him, he’s going to hurt you.’
‘I can’t stand him touching me.’
‘And you think I can? You have more chance of getting out of this alive if you stay in one piece. We have to make it appear that we’re co-operating. Have you heard of Stockholm Syndrome?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Well, if we want to stay alive we have to make him believe we like him, and that what he’s going to do to us is enjoyable.’
‘I think I’d rather die.’
‘You have a choice: you can either be beaten senseless while he does what he wants, or you can pretend to enjoy it. I know what I’m going to do.’
‘Oh God, are they only two choices?’
‘Yes, but we have more chance of escaping, or being rescued, the longer we stay healthy and alive.’
‘But what about afterwards? How will I be able to live with myself? How will I be able to let a man touch me afterwards?’
‘Thankfully, I didn’t have to do anything with Ruben because they rescued me just in time, but I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky here.’
Catherine let out a sob.
‘Ask yourself this question: Am I willing to kill myself to stop him abusing me, or do I want to stay alive regardless of the cost?’
‘I can’t kill myself.’
‘If you fight him, it’s like committing a painful suicide because he’ll beat you to death. Paul has told us – and we’ve seen the photographs – of how he beat those other women.’
‘Okay, I’ll try. I only have to suffer it until Monday anyway.’
‘That’s what I said before – a blessing in disguise.’
***
Parish and Heather met the other pair in the team in the central corridor in the middle of the four oblongs. Neither pair had found anything.
‘Kowalski?’ he said into his radio.
‘Here.’
‘Anything?’
‘No.’
‘What about you, Ed?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, keep looking.’
They walked south along the central corridor together and then split up. Parish and Heather turned east, and Bryn and Roger west.
They had just turned the corner into the end corridor heading north when Steve’s voice erupted on the radio.
‘I had an idea.’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ll put it simple.’
‘That would be good.’
‘I had to go and find a bit of electronic equipment, which basically sends a signal along a cable. When it reaches a terminal it bounces back, which allows you to work out how far away that terminal is.’
‘Okay, so far I’m liking your idea.’
‘I connected up the gizmo and sent the signal. Paul and I have worked out roughly where the terminal is.’
He felt his heart rate increase. ‘Go on.’
‘Now, you understand that we’re talking length and not depth here...’
‘Do you want to be my first murder victim, Steve?’
‘Ha, ha, yeah, good one. Well, we’ve worked out it’s either in the mortuary, or above or below it.’
He knew the others had been listening to Steve. ‘The rest of you carry on searching. If there’s anything to what Steve’s saying I’ll give you a shout.’ To Heather, he said, ‘Come on, let’s go and see what Steve’s talking about.’
They retraced their steps to the central corridor, turned north and headed towards the mortuary. Steve was waiting for them in the place that the killer had whispered to Catherine. He held the torch under his bearded chin so that the light shone up his face.
‘It occurred to me that you have no idea what you’re looking for, and even if you did you probably wouldn’t find it anyway.’
‘Oh?’
‘Another gizmo to trace the radio pulses.’
They entered the mortuary and Steve held his gizmo in one hand and a microphone with a lead attached to the machine in the other as if he were using a Geiger counter to test for radiation. Parish and Heather followed behind.
‘Move that cabinet,’ Steve said, indicating a grey, rusty metal, two-door cabinet.
Parish and Heather moved forward and shuffled the cabinet first left and then right away from the wall.
‘Crap!’
Parish saw an oblong black plastic box with an aerial attached to the wall. Two cables, rising from the floor, entered through the bottom of the disc, and in the top right-hand corner was a blinking green light. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘If you think it’s a wireless access point, then I’m sorry to
say you’re right.’
‘Crap!’
‘Exactly.’
‘What exactly does it mean?’
‘Well, one of the two wires you see is the power lead, the other one terminates in that socket behind the computer in the security office, but the incoming signal could be anywhere within a five hundred metre radius.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘I wish I were.’
‘Haven’t you got another gizmo to find the source of the signal?’
‘I have, but I’d need to go back to the station to get it.’
‘And that would take far too long. Now what?’
‘We’re back to square one.’
He had built up his hopes. He should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. He looked at his watch. It was quarter past two, and the knowledge that time was slipping through his fingers like sand for Richards and Catherine weighed heavily on him.
‘Okay, thanks Steve. We’ll just have to keep searching. Come on Heather; let’s get back to where we were.’
He didn’t feel like going back to continue the search. In fact, he felt drained of all energy. He could easily have lain down on the floor, curled up and forgotten about the outside world. If he were still a DI when they got back to work he would have to discipline Richards. Having a partner who didn’t follow orders was worse than having no partner at all.
‘A false alarm,’ he said over the radio. ‘Continue searching.’
***
‘Sir?’ It was Toadstone.
‘Yes?’
‘The killer is in the room with the woman.’
‘I would turn it off, Toadstone. We know what he’s going to do to her.’
‘Yes, but he’s putting on a show for the camera.’
‘Either it’s his partner watching, or he’s recording his prowess for future prosperity.’
There was a short silence.
‘I’m outside the security office now.’
‘Oh?’
‘Steve’s found a miniature CCTV camera high up on the wall. The killer is watching us watching him.’