'Can you be here when I get back?' says Frank. She hesitates for a split second.
'Please?' It's not a word he uses often. 'I'd like you to be.'
Em nods and wanders back into the bedroom. Frank watches her go.
With an effort he leaves.
It's cold out and he jogs across to the Albert Dock where he'd left the car last night. He turns the key in the ignition and heads up through the mostly empty city towards the Williamson tunnels. There's light just coming into the sky as Frank pulls up opposite the police station in Smithdown Road. At least the car will be safe. Probably.
Frank lifts a torch from the boot, locks the car and walks to the entrance to the Tunnels Heritage Centre. He turns into the cobbled yard and hesitates. He should be doing this properly but the idea of going back in to persuade Searle to pay for it is too much to contemplate. At least this way he can live with himself.
The door to the centre is locked. Frank lifts a small black case from his pocket and takes out a set of picks. He's very rusty so it takes almost ten minutes to slip the lock.
Frank steps through and closes the door behind him.
He's in.
Sixty
When his flight is called, Noone's thinking about the moment when he heard Nicky's parents in the house.
Until then, he realises now, despite his bravado about killing Nicky and Terry, he could still have gone either way. The moment Paul and Maddy Peters arrive home early, the course of events is set as decisively as someone pushing him off the edge of a cliff.
There is no going back.
He recalls clearly the gut-punch electric shock of hearing voices and movement outside the bathroom, and the thrilling realisation of the unalterable, immutable course of action they have set in motion. He is going to kill. It's been coming all night. It's been coming all his life.
In the tiled bathroom his own shallow breathing seems loud and he forces himself to be calm. It's a clear night outside but Noone could swear he can hear the rumble of a storm building in the distance. His nerve endings are primed and his senses wide open.
He cracks the door and sees two people paused outside Nicky's room. There's a whispered conference going on and then Nicky's parents move away towards their own bedroom.
As soon as they are out of sight, Noone darts across the landing to where his jacket is draped over the banister rail of the stairs. Neither of Nicky's parents seems to have noticed it, perhaps assuming it belongs to their son. Naked, Noone fumbles for the taser, which sticks momentarily in the pocket, caught in a fold of fabric.
Motherfucker! Come on!
There are sounds from the main bedroom. He'll be caught. There'll be a fight. It won't be as he wants it to be!
Then, just as panic starts to clutch him, the stubborn taser jerks free. His heart pounding, Noone slips silently into Nicky's room.
Neither the boy nor Terry has heard a thing. Both look up as Noone comes in and Terry's got that lazy post-coital grin on his face. Nicky looks fucking gone, his white face coated in a sheen of coke sweat, his carefully tended black hair wild. He's too young to be doing this. Terry's beyond hope but Noone feels a flicker of shame at his part in the teenager's dissolution. He feels unclean and Noone feels a powerful surge of anger towards Terry Peters.
Something of his thoughts must be showing on his face because Terry speaks. 'What's up?' he says. His eyes stray to the taser in Noone's hand.
And then it happens. Behind Noone the door to Nicky's room opens again and Nicky's father steps inside.
As he struggles to take in the scene in front of him, the man physically recoils.
'What?' he manages to say. He looks at Noone and then back towards Terry and Nicky, naked on the bed, his eyes wide, his face stricken. 'Terry?'
Terry tries to say something but he looks like he's going to be sick.
Noone takes two steps forward and tasers Paul Peters in the chest.
The connection isn't perfect, but it's enough to send him jerking onto the floor, confused, disoriented. Convulsing, his eyes lock on Noone and he opens his mouth.
'Dad!' yells Nicky. Noone bends down and tasers him again, this time in the neck. Peters flings his head backwards, hitting the carpet hard. Noone thinks the man might be dead. If he isn't then he won't be waking up any time soon. The jolts he'd taken are extreme.
Now the boy stumbles up from the bed and lurches towards Noone. Although furious, he's slow and uncoordinated and much smaller than the American. Noone steps back and, stiff-armed, lets Nicky run onto the taser. Nicky twitches and gives a short yelp before folding. He drops beside his father.
'For fuck's sake, Ben!' says Terry. He's still sitting in bed, holding the duvet to his chin like a Victorian chambermaid. Noone ignores him. There's no time for him now.
From outside, there's movement. 'Get dressed,' Noone says to Terry and opens the door. To his right, three or four paces from him, is Maddy Peters, naked except for her bra, standing uncertainly in the frame of her bedroom door. She looks at Noone, fear and shock etched on her face, and makes a small sound as, naked too, he walks towards her.
His face is friendly. Don't worry, this can all be explained.
'It's OK, Mrs Peters,' he says. 'I'm a friend of Nicky's. I know what this must look like.'
In the bedroom she freezes as Noone comes through the door. Noone notices that she isn't covering up her nakedness. She knows this is bad, he thinks. Him seeing her like this isn't her main concern. At some level, she understands things have moved beyond that.
'Nicky,' she says, her voice quavering. 'Where's Nicky? Paul?' She looks past Noone's shoulder towards the open door. 'Paul!' she calls, her voice just hovering below a shout.
Behind Noone, Terry appears at the bedroom door. 'Terry?' says Maddy. Her voice forms the name as if it's a foreign word. She looks at him, trying to make sense of something that can't make sense. 'What's happened? What's going on?'
'Mads,' says Terry. 'I . . .'
'Nicky's fine,' says Noone, interrupting. He holds the taser behind him and sees Maddy Peters' eyes dart in that direction.
The house is detached but that doesn't mean he wants her screaming.
And then she is screaming, and Noone hurls himself at her. He punches her hard, catching her high on the temple. Maddy Peters groans and flops backwards onto the bed.
'No!' yelps Terry Peters. He darts forward but stops without doing anything. 'Christ Almighty, Ben!'
'Shut the fuck up!' Noone puts the taser to Maddy Peters' neck. She twitches spastically and then is still. He keeps the taser applied longer than he needs to, until he's certain that the woman is dead, or close to. Terry Peters drops into a ball and begins moaning, his hands beside his head.
Noone stands panting at the side of the bed. His heart is banging but he can't tell if it's the effort, the adrenaline or the coke. All three, most likely. After a moment he moves to the bay window and peeks through the curtains.
The street outside shows no signs of life. The houses are detached, sprawling Victorian mansions with solid walls and double-glazed windows. No one's heard a thing.
'Get up,' he tells Terry.
He considers killing the useless bastard but the thought of dealing with all of this at once is beginning to overwhelm him. He feels tired and his mind, quick and sharp in the previous few adrenaline-fuelled minutes, is slowing down. This has all got to be taken care of and, for now, he needs Terry.
Terry is still curled up on the floor. Noone pulls his head up by the hair and slaps him hard across the face.
'Get moving!' He slaps Terry again but now he stands. The two naked men face each other, breathing hard. Terry looks beaten.
Noone gets Terry's clothes from Nicky's bedroom. Nicky and Paul Peters lie on the floor. Nicky has an arm draped over his father's chest. One last embrace.
Noone returns to the main bedroom and guides Terry into his clothes. He leaves his own off. It'll be easier later, when it gets messy.
'We've got
to get rid of them all,' says Noone. 'You know that, right?'
Noone doesn't believe in hell but Terry Peters' face is a snapshot of what it would be like.
'I'll take Nicky somewhere.' Peters' voice is thick. 'We can . . .'
'Go,' says Noone. 'Take him somewhere.' He wants Peters out of the house. They can deal with Nicky later. He can deal with Terry later. He has no energy spare to argue with Terry about what should happen with Nicky. A vision of what needs to be done right now is coming into focus. Noone feels a little dizzy and sits on the edge of the bed for a few moments, trying to think clearly. It's hard.
'Ben?' says Terry Peters. 'Not Nicky. He's just a kid, man.'
'Didn't stop you fucking him, did it, Terry?' Jesus. 'Bit late for a conscience now.'
Noone stands. Someone's got to get this thing done.
'This is what we do.'
In the hallway the keys to the family cars are sitting in a glass bowl on a side table. The two of them get the unconscious boy into the boot of the BMW in the garage. In darkness they open the garage door.
'Get rid of him,' says Noone and Terry drives away.
Once he's gone Noone finds that everything becomes simpler. Hanging on a peg on the garage wall are a pair of overalls. Noone gets an image of the dentist working on household jobs at the weekend. He slips the overalls on and opens the garage door again. After a quick glance up and down the street, Noone walks out to his car and drives it into the garage. Then, staying in the black shadow of the hedge, he goes into the garden and picks up two handfuls of damp earth. Back in the garage he places the dirt on the concrete floor and closes the door. Thanks to a thick bank of vegetation that circles the garden, Noone's confident that no one has observed anything.
In the garage Noone takes the earth from the floor and smears it across both numberplates on his own car. The numbers are just about readable but in dim light, or on CCTV, they won't be.
He feels pleased with himself for thinking this way.
Back in the house, he spends five full minutes wandering around quietly, just getting the lie of the land. It's almost half-past-twelve and the only sound he can hear is the soft ticking of a clock.
He sits down in an armchair and waits another ten minutes, thinking things through. If any of the neighbours had heard anything they'd have shrugged it off by now. He's broken into houses before and quickly discovered that panic is the most dangerous element. You can achieve a lot by simply waiting.
And there's something else. He wants to savour the moment. He was right: tonight had turned out to be the night.
Seeing the log burner he strips off the overalls and stuffs them inside. He lights a fire and watches the overalls burn. Noone turns the lever to cut the oxygen and lets the fire die down.
In the kitchen he finds some rags and cleaning products and a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves. He puts on the rubber gloves, returns to Nicky's bedroom and slowly, methodically wipes every trace of himself from the room. Noone collects and folds his clothes and places them in the bathroom. He takes the taser receipt from his pocket.
Back in Nicky's room Noone puts the receipt in a drawer under a pile of Nicky's crap. He checks Paul Peters for a pulse but can't feel anything. Hooking his hands under the man's armpits he drags him out of the bedroom. On the stairs he lets gravity slide Peters down, holding him enough to prevent too much noise.
He gets Peters into the garage and places him on the smooth cement floor.
It takes him almost ten more minutes to locate a rope. He eventually finds a length of what looks like clothes line in a room in the cellar. The rope is good quality, still inside a plastic wrapper.
Noone takes a wooden chair from the kitchen and brings it to the garage with the rope. He places it under one of the girders which form the support for the angled roof and loops a section of rope over it. It takes him several attempts to make a noose but eventually it's there. Satisfied, he drags the man to the centre of the garage underneath the noose. A ticking noise from the engine of his car is the only sound.
Noone places the noose around Paul Peters' neck and tightens it. He drags him into a sitting position on the wooden chair and hauls on the rope. The girder creaks gently as Peters is lifted by the neck upwards. When his feet are six inches above the cement floor, Noone ties the rope in position and steps back. He's sweating with the effort now but his mind feels as calm and collected as he can ever recall. It's as if the situation is evolving in front of his eyes and he is simply a part of that process.
Noone strips the hanging man and balls up his clothes. He places the chair back against the wall. It's only later he'll come to realise that's a small mistake.
Noone checks his watch and waits ten minutes in the darkened garage just to make certain the guy's dead. It's peaceful in there and Noone feels an unaccustomed sense of privilege and gratitude.
You're my first.
Noone doesn't know if he's spoken the words aloud but he thinks he may have done. He tries to gain a sense of the import of the moment but it's just time passing as always. He takes hold of the dead man's penis. He doesn't know why. This is new to him. He doesn't know how killers behave. Holding the cock in the rubber glove feels strange.
After a moment, Noone lets go and picks up the dentist's clothing before moving towards the kitchen a changed man. A virgin no longer.
In the kitchen, Noone selects a large knife from the woodblock stack on the countertop. He feels the weight of it and heads upstairs to the bedroom, the dead man's clothes under his arm.
Upstairs everything is exactly as he left it.
On the bed, to his surprise, Maddy is making small noises. He realises that while he's been busy downstairs it's possible the woman could have woken. She could have called the police if she'd been a little stronger. It's a bad mistake and Noone feels a rush of adrenaline flow through him so powerful that his hand starts to shake. He has to start being more careful. What would have happened if Paul Peters had come to?
Noone puts the taser on the bed and places the kitchen knife next to it. He finds a tie with which he gags Maddy. He uses four leather belts hanging on a rail inside the wardrobe door to strap her spread-eagled to the bed and then removes her bra.
Maddy Peters comes round as Noone's replacing her husband's clothes in the wardrobe.
She blinks, her vision unsteady, her expression confused. Her jaw looks broken. Noone expects her to struggle but she doesn't. Instead she just watches him, her eyes wide.
He walks across to the bed and looks down. He feels scared and excited at the same time and becomes aroused. He doesn't particularly want to make Maddy suffer but she probably will. Fuck, look at her, she's suffering already, looking up at him, the man who's going to kill her, the last thing she'll ever see. Noone bends in close and tries to see what she's thinking. So this is what it's like, he thinks. The power is unbelievable.
He can almost see her thinking about her child, her husband, and about her life. It makes him feel like crying, but he doesn't, because he doesn't cry. He could walk away. Disappear right now.
He could do it, too. He has the money.
But apart from the fact that she's a witness, when everything is taken into account, he really does want to kill her.
'Hello, Maddy,' he says. He keeps his voice low. 'I'm sorry about this.'
He means it. Kind of.
Sixty-One
Frank hadn't been down in the tunnels much during the search in the days following the murders. Before Dean Quinner's death there'd been little to suggest that the killings in Birkdale had anything to connect them physically to the Williamson tunnels, so the search, while thorough, had been limited.
There hadn't, Frank was certain, been anything shoddy about the search. It was just that, with finite resources, there was only so much they could do. Especially with so many other potential avenues of investigation.
And less than ten per cent of the tunnels complex is available to the public. What Frank is looking for won'
t be in that section, he's sure of that.
There's a map on the wall of the centre. The system extends under Edge Hill haphazardly. Frank pinpoints where he is and takes the view that if Nicky's going to be down here, he'll be as far as possible from the entrance.
Frank takes one of the printed maps from a stack on the counter and heads down a flight of bare concrete steps into the first of the caverns. He studies the map for several minutes, analysing the layout and imagining where he'd have put Nicky. There are a couple of possibilities but he has no idea if they are accessible. In all likelihood the places he's identified have already been examined.
And yet . . .
The only time he'd been in here, a quick visit at the start of the investigation, the place had been alive with activity, lights and people. Now, deserted, the bare brick dripping moisture and his torch sending shadows dancing across the blackness, it's just about the last place on earth Frank wants to be.
And if I feel like that, what must Nicky have felt like?
Say feels. Keep the option open at least. With food and water it's possible the boy may still be alive.
Frank follows the beam of his torch.
At the end of the first cavern he follows the path over a water-filled trough and through a twisting concrete shaft that bends to the right. Down another flight of steps and he's at a crossroads.
On the map the yellow lines indicate those tunnels that have been explored. The red lines show those that are dangerous, or filled with rubble, or otherwise unusable.
'Here goes nothing,' Frank mutters and takes the direction shown by the red line.
This shaft narrows dramatically and runs on a gentle slope for about forty metres before it opens into a cavern similar to those at the entrance. The difference here is that the space is mostly filled with builder's rubble. There has been an effort to excavate some of this but Frank sees it's got a way to go. He scrambles awkwardly up the slope until he has to crouch. Near to the top he can see that there is a narrow space. He pokes his head through. The torch beam picks up a narrow shaft, the bottom of which is covered in water.
Down Among the Dead Men Page 23