Open Grave

  He was about to call Watkins when his phone began to vibrate. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Detective Lambert, didn’t anybody tell you it was bad manners to ignore a phone call? I tried calling you earlier, but you must have been too busy. Well, I’m a forgiving person, so how about I give you the opportunity to make it up to me?’

  He froze, his hands on the wheel as the cool, calm voice slithered in his ear. ‘Is that you, Damien?’

  ‘Ah, so you’ve finally started doing your job, have you? It took you long enough.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  The man laughed without humour. The kind of hollow laughter a psychopath would offer up. ‘Why should I want anything?’

  ‘People always want something.’

  ‘I already have what I want, Jack. She’s right here, why don’t you say hello?’

  He listened intently to the sound of muffled scrapes, before the rip of pulled duct tape echoed through the handset.

  ‘Say hello to your darling ex, Detective Lambert.’

  ‘Jack, I’m sorry, please—’

  ‘That’s enough,’ the man returned. ‘I’ll make it easy for you, Jack. I’m at Rosie’s place.’ He laughed again. ‘I’ve been here the whole time.’

  His stomach turned. ‘It’s over, just let her go and give yourself up, Truman.’

  He tutted. ‘Jack, really? I thought you were better than that. This isn’t over. We’re just heating up. You are the next piece of the puzzle.’

  ‘You expect me to just hand myself over to you?’

  ‘You’ve already lost, Detective. Here are the options I’m giving you. You can come to the house in the next hour and we can finish our little game; I promise it will be quick. Or, you can refuse, and I will simply kill your precious Rosie in the most heinous way I can imagine. Oh, and trust me, Detective, I have a fertile imagination.’

  Jack gritted his teeth and checked his watch – quarter to six. ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Oh, and one other thing, if I even sense that you’ve brought anybody else along, I’ll slit her throat for you and you can live with the fact that it was your betrayal that caused her death.’

  Jack jabbed the ‘call end’ button and ground his teeth. He had to make a decision. Now.

  He made it to Rosie’s house within twenty minutes. The sky had darkened now, causing the house to look eerily secluded from the outside. Not bothering to indicate, he pulled into an empty space down the street from where the house was. Save for a man out walking his pet Alsatian, all was quiet. It always had been where Rosie lived. She’d picked the place for that very reason.

  Jack stepped from the car. Although cold, he knew he was sweating. Slowly, he edged towards the boot, eyes not leaving the house. The dog walker passed by, paying him no heed. After several moments, he popped the boot and fished around in his kit bag until he found it.

  Stepping away from the car, he pushed the metal bar into his waistband. The same bar he’d used on McGuinness’s goon in the pub. The same bar he’d felt compelled to carry ever since he’d been attacked in his own home.

  As he approached the house, there were still no signs of life, save for the odd flash of TV screens from distant neighbours. His instincts were urging him to inform the others about what was going on, but he couldn’t risk it. Handing himself over was his best chance at trying to save her.

  His knuckles were about to connect with the door when he noticed it was already open.

  With an unsteady hand he pushed against it and entered the house.

  Empty.

  And silent.

  Carefully, he closed the door, returning his gaze to the hallway. A chill pricked his spine as he stepped forward. It was then that he saw it. At his feet were clear footprints, leading directly to the basement door. Truman had deliberately trodden in muck to point Jack in the right direction. Jack couldn’t help but wonder whether it was the same compost he’d used when burying the bodies.

  He made for the light switch but was met with no response. He must have cut the power. Jack couldn’t help but feel the odds tipping ever further away from him the closer he stepped towards the basement door. Squinting through the darkness he noticed something lodging it open. He was two steps away now. Following the dirt, he reached the opening and saw what it was.

  A spade. The kind of spade you use to dig up graves.

  ‘We’re down here, Detective.’

  40

  He moved down the rickety staircase, one unsteady step at a time, unsure of what would await him when he reached the bottom.

  His eyes were beginning to adjust now, with wisps of yellow from a street lamp peeking in through a small window in the far corner of the basement. That and an old oil lamp, perched in the centre of the room, were the only sources of light.

  The sound of laboured breathing caught his attention.

  ‘Rosie?’ he whispered, his throat dry.

  ‘Ah, Mr Lambert,’ Truman’s slick, authoritative voice greeted him from the far side of the room.

  As his vision adjusted, he found himself in the centre of the large basement space, an assortment of shelves and boxes littered about. The tall outline of Damien Truman stood opposite him, in military garb, knife pressed against Rosie’s throat. Truman’s eyes appeared black and inhuman. They had the same haunted look that Ian Kellerman’s had. Jack couldn’t help but wonder what horrors this man had lived through. His hairs bristled as the penetrating gaze of the serial killer bore through him.

  ‘So this is it,’ Truman spoke. ‘I have to say I’m very disappointed.’

  He had to keep him talking until he could figure out how to salvage the situation. ‘What do you mean?’

  Truman laughed. ‘The famous Jack Lambert, nearly fifteen years of service, conqueror of the notorious Newcastle Knifer. Come on, Detective, I had expected better. Do you like my outfit?’

  ‘I didn’t realise you had a military background.’

  ‘I don’t, Jack. But I do know how fibre analysis works. I had to throw you off the scent for a bit while I made my preparations.’

  ‘Very clever,’ Jack replied, eyes scanning the room.

  ‘Not as clever as using our beloved Rosie’s basement here to conduct all of my... experiments. I should really be thanking you, Jack.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For breaking her heart. I’d go as far as to say you coming out as gay has made all of this possible. That allowed me to play the role of Alan, her dutiful boyfriend, and I’ve been killing people right under her nose all along. In the end, it was all too easy. We put all of your belongings down here and I put a lock on the door to help her forget about you.’ He shot a look at Rosie. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t think it worked for her. And now it’s too late.’

  Jack took a small step forward. ‘I’m not done, yet.’

  Truman’s face hardened, ever so slightly, his hand coming up to brush back a stray hair. ‘Quite right,’ he said, smiling once more.

  ‘Nobody has to get hurt, Damien. Just let her go,’ Jack urged.

  Rosie stood, unmoving. Her gaze was on Jack and he could see she was scared but, being the strong person he knew she was, she wasn’t going to show any fear to this bastard. Jack fought the urge to rush over. One wrong move and it would be too late.

  Time to try a new approach. ‘Is it all women you hate or just your mother?’

  Truman’s eye twitched. ‘And what would you know about my mother?’

  He took another small step forward. ‘I know that she was in prison for being a prostitute. Did she bring her clients home when you were young, Damien? Is that why you kill people?’

  Truman remained unmoved.

  Jack decided to press harder. ‘Is that why you got into counselling? Is it some kind of sick redemption for you, Truman?’ He spat the surname, just to show disdain. This was a man who liked control. Jack wasn’t going to give it to him.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, Detective,’ he said. ‘How about I just s
lit our beloved Rosie’s throat right now?’

  ‘Because that’s not how it works. You don’t like to get bloody, Truman. You’re too neat. Hands round the neck, isn’t it?’

  Again he stepped forward.

  ‘I’m willing to experiment with new techniques.’

  Jack noted his voice was losing its steadiness.

  ‘So, how does it work?’

  Truman smiled, his tongue sliding across his lips. ‘Like this.’

  With that, he brought a large hand up around Rosie’s throat. Her eyes bulged as she began to thrash about.

  Jack made to move.

  ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ Truman screamed, holding the knife out in front of him. ‘Now, get on your knees and turn around.’

  Jack gazed at Rosie, twitched an apology, and did as he was ordered.

  The smell of damp earth grew ever closer as Truman stepped up behind him.

  ‘I want her to see,’ he spat, aiming a kick at Jack’s back. ‘They always have to see!’

  Jack coughed as he inhaled a thick blanket of rising dust from the concrete floor. ‘What makes me so special?’

  Truman laughed. ‘Nothing. It was Rosie who approached me. She was so upset at the demise of your relationship that I had to listen to hours and hours of her sob stories about you. You see, the men always let them down. My father was the same. But, do you know what’s worse than that? It’s how pathetic the women become. That’s why I do it and that’s why she’s going to watch you die first, before she gets to take her medicine. Don’t worry, though, she can hold on to you once we are done. Then you can be together forever. Now put your arms behind your back.’

  Jack heard the sound of ripping duct tape. He had to act.

  Now.

  As Truman made to grab his left arm, he sent an elbow at his groin. The killer grunted and fell back as Jack pulled the pipe from his jeans. He stood, turned, aimed a blow to the serial killer’s body but Truman was too quick. Spinning away, he managed to get in between Rosie and Truman, holding his weapon out in protection. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his vision.

  ‘Now what?’

  Truman shrugged. ‘Your arrogance astounds me, Jack. Do you really think this was all about you?’

  Jack felt his stomach lurch. ‘What do you mean?’

  Truman smiled. ‘I think my work here is done. The two of you will find more pain in life now than you would in death. That is my gift to you. And this is my masterpiece.’

  Without warning, the man known as the Open Grave Murderer raised the knife to his throat and slit it, his eyes betraying no emotion as he fell to the floor.

  ‘No!’ Jack shouted.

  He lunged forward and tried to apply pressure to the wound. Blood spurted out over Jack’s hands as Truman pulled him in close and grinned. He watched as his cold eyes glazed over. Jack fell back and let out a roar. It was too late.

  Damien Truman was dead.

  That was when Rosie started screaming.

  41

  ‘Jack, do come in.’

  He entered McGuinness’s office and took a seat opposite the man they called ‘the Boss.’

  ‘Dorian,’ he greeted him.

  Feigned concern was etched across the mobster’s face. ‘How are you keeping after everything that has happened? A terrible business with that Open Grave nonsense.’

  ‘There’s no need to pretend to care, Dorian.’

  McGuinness baulked. ‘Is that any way to speak to the man who saved your life?’

  Jack squirmed in his seat. ‘How am I supposed to spin this?’

  McGuinness stared at him over his tinted sunglasses. ‘Spin what?’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t help but notice that Tank isn’t working here any more.’

  ‘Ah, it seems Mr Arnold was keen to explore opportunities elsewhere. As such, his employment has now been terminated.’

  Jack paused. ‘Am I going to find another body washed up on the banks of the Tyne in a few weeks?’

  McGuinness motioned to one of his goons to leave the room before continuing. ‘Mr Arnold is not my concern, nor yours, Jack. I’d have thought you would pay me a little more respect after what I did for you.’

  ‘Dammit, Dorian, I’m a policeman. I can’t just turn a blind eye when I know a crime has been committed.’

  He fixed him with an icy stare. ‘What crime? Let’s consider what we both know. You attack one of my associates in a bar full of potential witnesses before running off and staking out one of my warehouses without proper clearance. Then you get yourself kidnapped and nearly killed in the process before I – your former employer no less – rescue you.’ McGuinness paused, licking his lips. ‘I’d be happy to tell this story to your associates if you like?’

  Jack tugged at his collar and undid a button. ‘I won’t have you holding this over my head.’

  ‘Jack, I’m worried about you,’ McGuinness said, raising his considerable bulk up to a standing position. ‘Perhaps police work isn’t agreeing with you. Look, I’m a reasonable man, why don’t you come and work for me again? We can always use a man with your... skills. I seem to remember you being pretty handy with your fists.’

  He snorted. ‘You need somebody to punch fish?’

  The giant mob boss laughed, his voice booming around the room, before placing a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder. He could smell the faint scent of sweet rum as McGuinness moved in closer. ‘That’s what I like about you, Jack, you always did have a sense of humour.’

  McGuinness’s hand remained on his shoulder as Jack spoke. ‘What was going on in that warehouse?’

  ‘Terrible things, Jack. Can you believe we found that criminals, foreign ones no less, had been using my property to peddle a supply of potent drugs? Naturally, we got rid of it all. I would hate for it to fall into the wrong hands.’

  ‘And Liam Reed? What am I supposed to do about that? ‘

  McGuinness remained silent.

  * * *

  He waited until Jack had left the shop before picking up the phone. Pondering his next move, he began tapping his ringed fingers on the mahogany table until he was sure of what to do. The phone was picked up after three rings, as always.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Dimitri,’ McGuinness greeted the European. ‘Has it been taken care of?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Nobody will ever find him.’

  ‘Good, I don’t want any loose ends this time.’

  ‘What about the detective?’

  McGuinness scratched his stubble before continuing. ‘Leave it with me; I haven’t made a decision yet.’

  ‘He could jeopardise the whole operation if he continues to sniff around.’

  ‘Like I said, I haven’t made a decision yet.’

  ‘Your man should have killed him in his home when he had the chance.’

  McGuinness ground his teeth together. ‘Plans can change. Anyway, Lambert is more use to me alive.’

  A pause on the line. ‘If he finds out about Liam Reed...’

  ‘I’ve made myself clear!’ he hissed.

  ‘I apologise,’ the European replied. ‘I’m merely concerned about my investment.’

  He was about to continue when he noticed a small smudge on the corner of his desk. He’d have to remember to get somebody to clean it up. ‘Don’t worry about that. Now that we’ve taken hold of the goods in the factory there will be plenty to go around. You just make sure your people do their jobs.’

  ‘He will retaliate.’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping for.’

  ‘Fair enough, Mr McGuinness, I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Goodbye. Oh, and Dimitri?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Don’t worry about the business with Liam Reed. As far as Jack Lambert is concerned you were working for the Captain and most likely killed him to get to me,’ he said. ‘And you don’t exist any more. Nobody will ever know the truth. Lambert thinks you are dead, along with Arnold Mohan. The business with Liam was... mos
t unfortunate,’ he said, mopping his brow with a silk handkerchief. ‘Especially with a baby on the way. Unfortunately, you sometimes have to crack a few eggs to make an omelette. Without his death I would never have discovered the depth of Tank’s betrayal. I thank you for making that happen.’

  ‘And the decision to leave his body in such a public space?’ the European asked.

  McGuinness smiled. ‘It’s important I send a strong message on these matters.’

  ‘Still, this detective seems determined.’

  He laughed. ‘The setup in the warehouse worked perfectly. Jack Lambert knows not to dig too deeply into my business now and David Robson will print whatever we tell him to. They belong to me,’ he spat. ‘You see, this business is like chess. Do you play it, Dimitri?’

  ‘Yes, from time to time.’

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ McGuinness replied. ‘I like it when others play chess.’ His tone darkened. ‘As long as you remember that, in the end, I always win.’

  The European paused. ‘Yes, boss.’

  They ended the call. Dimitri had played his role well. Yes, it had cost him nearly forty per cent to bring him on board, but by poaching such a strong ally from the Captain he had been able to secure his own interests in the North East – at least for the time being. He wasn’t stupid, though. It was only a matter of time before the European betrayed him. He’d simply have to make sure he was the one to strike the first blow.

  As for the Captain, he’d save a special kind of retaliation for him. Credit where it was due – his rival had been extremely clever, not even telling Dimitri about the high-level mole in the organisation. When Liam Reed had come to him, asking to leave, he’d known then that he had been betrayed. Liam had given up Tank’s name in the end, allowing Dimitri to approach him as a faux-ally. McGuinness smiled. He’d made a strong start to the game.