by Oliver Stark
She slid away. Gone. She was free from his touch. It felt good. She lay still for a moment, giving him a chance to react. He didn’t.
It was easier now. Denise’s body inched further sideways; her left foot touched the cold stone floor.
It took her ten minutes to move from the bed. She was so careful, aware that this was her one and only chance. If she failed, he would kill her.
Standing upright on the floor, facing the bed, she knew where she was. She had her bearings. Three steps backward and her right hand would touch the cold metal of the door. She listened, but there was nothing.
One step. Breathe, Denise, breathe. Two steps. He moved restlessly. She stopped. Fear shot through her like an injection of adrenalin straight to the heart.
Her left foot slid backwards. It stopped. Her body shifted weight. Has your life ever hinged on the sound you make as you try to walk silently across a room after midnight, afraid of waking someone?
The right foot slid back. Three steps. Her right arm came round and touched metal. The door.
Her fingers gripped the bars. One foot went through the space - and her heel hit one of the loose bars. It rolled on the rough ground, making a low gravelly sound as the metal moved against the concrete. Denise’s heart jumped as she stood stock still, waiting for the sound of movement from the bed.
There was none. There was no going back now. Nothing but escape. She pulled herself further through the bars.
One inch. Two inches. Three. Six. She was through. She was out of the cell. She kept one hand on the wall and moved up the corridor, her feet making only the smallest sound as they padded on stone.
She could still see nothing. Fourteen steps and then another door. She counted.
Then she was there. The second door, the outer door. There was a sound from the cell, a body moving in sleep. She listened out in frightened silence, but there was nothing more.
The second door now. She pushed it. Nothing. She pushed it again. It didn’t yield. Perhaps it was locked. She was trying to avoid panicking but it was hard.
Her fingers followed the door frame round. She was searching for the bolt, but there was nothing at all - the bolt she had heard would be on the other side, of course. Then she feared the worst. Was the door locked with a key that she had not been able to hear from her cell?
She searched for a key hole.
She didn’t find one. The door was not locked. If it was not locked, then it was just stiff or stuck and she was not using enough force to move it.
She put her shoulder on the door and tried to push. Nothing. She pushed harder, then leaned her whole weight into it.
If it was going to open, it needed barging. Barging would make a noise. She stood, thinking, but there was no alternative. It would wake him, but she would have to hope she had enough of a start to run and find a way out. It was a slight chance, but it was her only one.
Fear. It can drain your body of all strength. Bite by bite. But it can also surprise you. She set her mind on moving through the door. Like a karate expert thinking his fist through a block of tiles, she had to aim through the object, not at it. If you aim at it, you’ll bounce right back.
It was hard to find the power to make a significant barge. She was freezing cold and there was a monster fourteen paces down the corridor. A fierce, maniacal animal who could burst from its cave and devour her any second.
It was true that your imagination could make objects stronger or weaker and she needed this object to be weaker. Her mind concentrated, her body tightened. One shot. One chance. One moment to decide whether she lived or died.
She jumped into the door with great force, but it didn’t yield. A loud iron echo erupted and charged down the corridor. She felt as though it was happening in slow motion, the ripples of sound like an unstoppable wave travelling towards the lair. Towards the beast. Towards her destruction.
It was game on now. No surrender. She started to barge the door over and over again with her shoulder, her whole right side, her head and her sheer force of will.
In the darkened cell, the beast woke to an immediate awareness of the noise. He heard the low thud, thud, thud up the corridor. His hand moved around him. Nothing. She was gone. It took him a moment to recover his senses.
‘Levene!’ he roared at the top of his voice. It was like the cry of a wolf. It meant her death.
At the other end of the short corridor the terrifying voice pinned her to the door. Her hands were shaking so much that she felt she was going into some kind of fit.
Sebastian was disorientated in the blackness. He flailed around, searching for the door.
She had time to try once more, then he would be there. She took three paces back. He screamed her name again. It seemed to propel her against the door.
‘Levene! You’re dead! Now!’
She hit the iron door with all her strength and power. It pushed forward about an inch and then stopped. It was her last chance. She heard him claw through the bars at the end of the corridor.
Then the beast was in the tunnel and there was no way out. Nowhere to run.
‘Levene!’
Her mind seemed to throw her a lifeline. One idea. One advantage. She could move in the dark better than he could. She took a few steps towards him and lay down on the ground. She just had to know which side of the tunnel he was striding up and she could try to avoid him, roll out of the way.
She listened. His hand slapped on the left wall, so she moved to the other side, but then she heard his hand on the right wall. Which side? He was changing sides. Two more paces.
She gambled and threw her body tight to the right wall. He passed her in the dark, not noticing.
‘Levene, you bitch!’
If he found her, he would rip her apart.
She lay still. Would her plan work? He reached the end of the tunnel and with a mighty shoulder barge flung the door open. He carried on.
It had worked. He’d broken out for her. She crawled up the tunnel and crouched by the door. There was light here. A low orange light. The corridors ran in three directions. From the noise, she knew that the beast had gone straight ahead.
She looked left and right. She presumed that he was taking the only route out and began to follow him. Along the way, she found a half-brick lying on the floor and picked it up. The corridor came to a T-junction at the end. Then she heard another sound, quite close. A mechanical sound. It was an elevator.
She peered round the corner. He was to the right, at the end of a short corridor, standing by the elevator. There must be stairs if there’s an elevator, she thought. Somewhere. But how would she find them?
She peered to the left. The tunnel ran away into darkness. As the elevator arrived, Levene threw the brick as far as she could left into the left-hand tunnel. The monster turned and screamed out her name, then ran back down the corridor.
He went straight past her. The elevator doors opened. She turned the corner. Twelve feet to freedom.
She ran now and burst into the elevator, pressing the single large red button. The beast heard her and turned quickly. She could hear him screaming as he ran up the tunnel back to her. The doors seemed to move so slowly.
He was so near. She crouched in a corner, her heart thudding desperately. Close! Please! Close!
He smashed into the door as it closed. The elevator started rising. Out of hell, out of the grip of this devil. Into the light. She was crying again. She watched the red light roll round. Any moment now and she would be free.
The elevator continued to rise slowly as Denise looked around the cage. Under the metal operation plate there was an old security sticker asking all personnel to display their security passes. At the bottom of the sticker, the name of the company. Mace Crindle Corporation.
Suddenly, the elevator shuddered to a halt.
He’d cut the power. She was stuck. Stuck between heaven and hell. She was going to be dragged back into hell. She banged on the elevator door, over and over again, hoping that someone
would hear her.
No one did. She sat down and shook with fear as the tears ran down her face.
Sebastian had cut the power and was now in the lift shaft, climbing the internal access ladder up to the motionless elevator car. He shouted out to Denise as he passed and then clambered on to the roof of the car and opened the hatch.
He saw her crouched on the floor. ‘Hello, Denise. Seems you’re stuck.’ He lay there on top of the elevator and looked down at her, excited by the thought of seeing her face. She wouldn’t look up at him. She was crouched filthy and naked in the lift, terrified and in some kind of trauma. ‘Let’s take you back,’ he said.
Sebastian felt the much-loved surge of desire as he jumped down into the car. He was so close to her now, he could smell the fear. He wanted to bite her throat open and rip through her sternum. He pushed the feeling back down. He would have her heart, but not now. He wanted Harper to arrive first.
He stooped to pick Denise up. She tried to close her mind as he pushed her through the hatch and dragged himself out after her.
‘Down the ladder, Denise, unless you want me to push you down?’
Back down in the dungeon, Sebastian’s hand moved over her skull. ‘Do you know what a hunger trace is, Denise? No? I can feel one in your skull. A time when food was short perhaps? Your bone stopped growing so rapidly, a slight rise and fall. A hunger trace, Denise. Were you hungry once upon a time?’
In the dark, she nodded. She had often been hungry. Many kids had been hungry. Being hungry was no big deal. You got used to it and ate when you could.
Sebastian laid her back down on the bed. ‘I always give them a chance to get away,’ he said. ‘But they all fail.’
Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen
Mace Crindle Plant
December 4, 12.40 p.m.
A fleet of thirty vehicles streamed across the city, flashing their lights and running their sirens.
The Hostage Rescue Team and Blue Team Task Force raced through the streets. They were prepared for action. They were ready to take out the American Devil.
The old chemical compound to the north of Manhattan was quiet and still. A faint breeze moved across the East River and through the old buildings. A heavy line of metal fencing scarred the landscape in every direction.
Harper sat in the back of the HRT truck. It was too much to bear and too much to hope. And hope was all he had. In the noise of the speeding convoy, he allowed himself a prayer.
The quiet of the compound was suddenly ripped to tiny pieces as the vehicles smashed through the barrier of the Mace Crindle plant and sped across the gravel and sand. Just as quickly the convoy screeched to a halt and the doors flew open.
Detectives and agents spread out all over the compound like little black ants. Baines set up a small operations centre on the hood of his car. Harper watched them all go off in every direction. He didn’t know if they had time to check out every single sewer. He wanted to be more definite, but where did they search?
‘We’ve got about eighteen miles of sewer under this ground, Harper, and several thousand square feet of warehouse space. That’s gonna take some time.’
Harper barely registered Lafayette’s words as he walked out towards the first line of buildings. He looked around him. The American Devil would have arrived at this compound with a body. He would need to get out of sight quickly. Harper scouted the horizons. There were cops all over it, like a war zone.
Harper saw a group enter the nearest elevator house. They were out soon enough. ‘Elevator out of action,’ said a voice on the radio. Harper stared across. Going down into the ground would probably appeal to the American Devil, appeal to his fantasies. He walked over, gathering pace as he did so. Lafayette watched him from a distance. This was the time to leave Harper alone. Let the thinking man think.
Harper walked round the elevator shaft. There was no evidence of anything untoward. He pulled open the wooden door and put his hand out to touch the button but stopped as he caught a glimpse of something. The silver button had a streak of grease across it, like sweat mixed with grime. Was it fresh from the team or someone else?
Harper pulled out of the room and looked across the plot to the team. ‘Did someone try the elevator button?’
‘Yeah, it’s bust,’ shouted one of the guys. Harper went back inside and pressed it himself. Bust. It sure was.
Harper went back outside. He closed his eyes. A shiver ran through his body. He only had his gut and his gut was telling him they were underground.
Harper went back to the elevator shaft. He put his ear to it and thought he heard something. He suddenly felt the scent. He pulled at the doors, but they held fast. He went back outside and ran across to Baines. ‘I think I heard something in the elevator shaft. I’m going to see if I can take a look.’
‘Keep us updated,’ said Baines. Harper ran across to the NYPD truck and took out a shovel. He returned to the elevator shaft, jammed the blade between the doors and pushed. The doors yielded. He held them open a little and peered inside. The elevator was near the bottom of the shaft. Someone had gone down but not come back up.
Harper had to go now if he was going to help her. He yelled across to Baines. ‘Get someone over here. I’m going in. She might be down there.’
Baines told him to wait, but even as he said it, he knew that Harper was already moving.
Harper squeezed past the elevator door and clung on to the thick ropes of coiled steel. There were three lines running all the way down. He threw his legs round the ropes and let go of the door. It clanged shut and Harper was suddenly suspended in mid-air in complete darkness.
He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and put it in his mouth and then edged down slowly towards the elevator. The steel was ice cold in his hands and his progress was slow. A second later, he spotted the access ladder and swung across.
It took a minute to get down the shaft. His foot felt for the top of the car and he dropped on to it. There was a small hatch. He pulled it open. Inside, the elevator was lit. There was no Denise. Harper looked down. There was dried blood on the floor. This was it. He had to be fast.
Harper stared back up the shaft. Another team was just edging the door open. It would take too long to get help. Much too long. And it might even be too noisy.
He had to go it alone.
Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen
The Lair
December 4, 1.20 p.m.
When Denise opened her eyes, she felt a throbbing pain. Her hands rose to her face and felt the bruise. Across the room, Sebastian sat against a wall and watched.
‘He’s coming now, Denise.’
‘Who?’
‘Harper.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I left him a clue. Abaddon. He’s good. He’s very good.’
Denise stared. Sebastian was holding a piece of rope. He was knotting it carefully.
‘Then you should go.’
‘I was planning to kill him just like I did Detective Williamson. It has to be here now, Denise. But it doesn’t much matter. I have something for you.’ He held up the length of rope. It was a noose.
He stood up. ‘You’re a clever girl. That trick with the light socket. I didn’t anticipate it. I didn’t know you had it in you.’
‘I want to speak to Nick,’ said Denise.
‘Oh, Nick,’ said Sebastian. ‘He’s dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘He wasn’t strong enough. He’s gone now. He can’t return. I showed him what I do to the girls and he couldn’t take it.’
Denise looked at the ceiling. She saw the exposed metal framework of the concrete. Sebastian moved the stool beneath it and ran the rope through a loophole. He tied it tight. The noose hung in the darkness, swaying slightly.
The next part of his plan needed to be instituted. He didn’t need Denise any more. She was no fun at all. She had served her purpose, to get Harper to pay attention. He would end it now. The killer flicked the rope. Then, in the
distance, they heard a boom from the elevator shaft.
The killer leaned forward and turned his head. ‘He’s here, Denise. Time’s up.’
‘You can stop this!’
‘Denise, he’s coming to save you. The knight in shining armour might carry you away and you might live happily ever after. Or not!’
He grabbed Denise and held a knife to her throat. ‘If I kill you, it will be to hurt him, not you. I like you, Denise. I hope you realize that. Nick especially liked you.’
He was different now. He was in a mode she had not seen before. He was over-excited but under steely self-control, in a world of his own. Was this his kill mode? Was this where he went when he killed? She’d never been this close to a killer. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t speak a word.
He breathed deeply, the excitement coursing through his brain. ‘This is the easy way out for you. You will avoid the agony and the pain. You won’t have to see me again.’ He bundled her on to the stool and put the noose round her neck. ‘Jump off if you want.’ He bound her hands behind her.
He knew what he wanted to see in this final scene. He wanted to see Harper’s eyes burn in pain as he looked at Denise, as his eyes had done when he read that Mo was dead. He had loved Mo.
It was all about love. That’s all. Love for Mo and love for his dead girls. They were all he wanted and all he could never ever have, and knowing that they had gone, nothing else in the world mattered.
Once they were dead, he loved them all. He didn’t know why, but he had such strong affection for them as their lives dripped away.
‘Love and death are so close, don’t you think, Denise? Love and death?’
‘No,’ she coughed. ‘I don’t think so.’ She knew time was running out. She wanted to keep him talking. Talking might help extend her life. ‘What happened with Lottie Bixley?’
Sebastian was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t like them looking at me, Denise. I don’t like people judging me. Lottie was a whore. I watched her die through a clear plastic bag. Do you want to know what I did to her?’