The Killing Moon

by Michael Robinson

  Rob walked in to Johnson's apartment. Rob was still a bit paranoid, almost expecting to be jumped on when he walked in the reception room. Roxy smiled at Rob and said softly, "He's through here."

  Straddled across the bed, tied by each arm and leg to a corner post was Johnson with a gimp mask tied to his face. Strewn across the floor were various sex toys of different descriptions. Also, next to the bed were three helpings of cocaine in neat lines.

  Johnson was worried, somebody had just entered the room and it wasn't the girl he had paid for. "What the fuck's going on, Roxy?" demanded Johnson.

  "It's not Roxy. My name's Rob Foster, and you're in the shit."

  On hearing those words Johnson froze. He almost felt sick. Why hadn't he nicked this bastard earlier? He'd left it too long. Rob grabbed Johnson by the top of the gimp mask and removed the eye pieces so Johnson could see him. Johnson knew he was fucked. He had to talk his way out of it.

  Before he had a chance to speak, Rob grabbed Johnson by the groin and squeezed. "So, where's your safe? Before I kill you."

  The officer knew well that Rob was a killer, and so to buy time he directed Rob to the safe in the wardrobe, slowly giving away the pin number for the safe. Rob opened the metal box, and inside were two large bags of white powder. He assumed they must have been cocaine. Also, there was a wad of money, and next to that was a badge, and an ID in Johnson's name. Rob removed all the contents from the safe. He left the bags of cocaine on the floor of the bedroom. He then stuffed the wads of money into his jean pockets. He began to study the policeman's ID, all the time, Johnsons' mind was racing.

  "Listen, pal," Johnson squirmed. "I've been protecting you. I honestly have. That slag Jessica has told you a lot of shit, mate. Pal, I'm being straight with you. If you take the money and just let me go. Take the coke as well if you want."

  Rob stood in silence for a minute. Then, he held up the badge. "You see this badge? It means something," Rob said. "It means honour and integrity. It means protecting the weak. It stands for something."

  Johnson looked almost bemused. He did not know what this madman was on about. Rob continued. "You fucked up when you came after me. I've worn a badge similar to this, and it meant something to me, it should mean something to you. You're a disgrace to your uniform, but I'm not gonna kill you. Instead, I'm gonna turn you in."

  As he spoke, he flicked the ID at the policeman. Johnson began to get scared. "Look, pal, please," he replied.

  Rob picked up the phone and rang Jessica. She answered with a curt "Yep."

  "I've got him," said Rob, "I've got his money. I'm gonna get out of here soon."

  "Just fucking hold on. I'm on my way."

  Without replying, Rob ended the call. He then looked around the flat and found an A4 pad and a pen, and began to write. Soon he began to hear Jessica approaching from outside, coming up the stairs. As she entered the room Rob was sellotaping the piece of paper he'd written on to Johnson's chest. Jessica saw the cocaine on the floor and picked up a bag, handing it to Roxy.

  "Take this and wait in the car," she ordered. She then looked at Johnson. "You've took the piss for fucking long enough, sunshine, and I think it's about time you get what's coming."

  "Look Jessica. Come on be reasonable. Don't let those bastards catch me, they'll fucking kill me in prison." Johnson then began to shout. "For fuck's sake, Jessica."

  As he was shouting, both Rob and Jessica left the room, closing the door behind them. "You better get going then, cowboy," Jessica said to Rob.

  "Look after yourself, boss. What are you going to do?"

  "I'm going to wait here for the police to arrive. I rang them earlier. They won't nick me, not when I can hand them a bent copper who happens to be a rapist. You better get off."

  Rob shook Jessica by the hand as a mark of respect, then left.

  Chapter Sixty-six

  DI Denman began to approach Johnson's flat at speed with the detective beside her. Rob saw the police car's flashing lights and realised he had to make hay. As he passed work's vehicle, he saw Amy probably for the last time. He quickly bent down and opened the door. "I've got to go now, love. I don't know when I'll be back but take good care of yourself, sweetheart."

  Amy quickly grabbed Rob and kissed him hard on the lips, and as she let go of her embrace she whispered, "Take care of yourself, soldier."

  Soon Rob was running down the street, determined to get away, and putting as much distance between himself and his pursuers just as DI Denman and her colleague reached the foot of the flat. Denman recognised Rob from his photo. His physique and clothes were typical of an off-duty squaddie. Even if she could catch him, he would put up a fight. Also, there were other issues, not least the little girl. She decided not to follow him.

  The detective with Denman asked if he should follow Rob. Denman looked at him. "Let him go," was Denman's curt reply and then she made her way up to the flat.

  Inside the flat she saw Jessica, the madam, sat in one of the leather chairs, holding a cup of coffee. As Denman and the detective entered, Jessica just said, "Johnson's in the bedroom."

  The DI asked, "Is he dead?"

  "No," was Jessica's short answer.

  Denman turned to the detective and said, "Wait here."

  She entered the bedroom and almost laughed when she saw the sight before her. She quickly realised what Rob had done. Denman read the note taped to Johnson's chest, explaining about the bent cop and included where the evidence would be. She quickly discovered the cocaine lines at the side of the bed, and the bag on the floor.

  Johnson just stared at her. Denman said, "Detective Chief Inspector Johnson, my name is DI Denman of the London Metropolitan Police Force, and I'm arresting you for possession of a Class A substance, withholding information on a police investigation, and bringing the police force into disrepute. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you may later rely on in court Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"

  Johnson just spat. "Fuck you, you fucking bitch."

  Within an hour the police had raided Johnson's flat and discovered more evidence of drug paraphernalia and a stash of indecent images of children. Jessica had been questioned and released without charge, however she would have to appear at the police station later to give evidence. In the meantime, Johnson was bundled into the back of a waiting police van. Amy, or Roxy as she was known, had the good sense to get out of the area. When Jessica rang her, both arranged to meet straight away at Buddy Milligan's pub. Soon, Amy handed Jessica the other bag of cocaine. Then Amy asked, "Do you think Rob will get away?"

  "Yeah I should think so. He's not a fucking daft lad."

  Amy thought for a moment, then said, "He enjoyed himself last night."

  Jessica took a drag on her cigarette, and replied, "Yeah I thought he facking would do, he looked like he needed it, men are a lot happier after they cum. I'll square you both up tomorrow."

  Amy just shrugged. "Both Sophie and I are not that bothered, to be honest."

  "Well that's up to you, darlin," replied Jessica.

  Amy sighed. "He was a good driver wasn't he, boss?"

  Jessica took another drag and replied, "Yeah, he was facking beautiful."

  Edinburgh Central Police Station was a hive of activity after Steve Johnson's arrest. It was almost a relief to some of the junior officers, and there was an excitement and a buzz around the station. Most of his colleagues agreed that Johnson had had it coming for a long time. DI Denman was sitting in the charge room writing up her report. The detective with her was also writing up his report. He turned to Denman and asked "When we had the chance to nick Foster, why did you stop me from arresting him?"

  Without hesitation Denman replied, "Because Foster's the only chance of getting the girl back." Then she added, "That's off the record."

  All the staff at the Admiral pub were closing down for the night. Then Harry turned to his head barman, Elliot
, and said, "Get my phone book from upstairs, then get yourself off. I'll close up tonight."

  As soon as Harry had his phone book, he took some loose change out of the till and made his way across to the phone box outside the pub. He entered some coins and dialled a number. The phone rang three or four times, when it was answered by a Liverpudlian accent. "Terry, it's Harry. Listen, I need a favour."

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  The Home Secretary, Elizabeth Price Jones, was not happy as she entered her office at Whitehall in the evening. The Bullimore enquiry had not gone as well as planned. In fact, the panel caught the Home Secretary off guard on a number of points, leaving her open to more questions. She had no doubt she would be called back later to give more evidence. This was the last thing she needed right now.

  As she entered her office she made for the decanter of whisky on the table near the window, which showed one of the best views of London. As she poured herself a generous helping of Bushmill's she raised the glass to her lips and looked out of the window at the view. Although the government were in the lead in the polls, the Opposition had been gaining momentum recently, not least because of how the trouble with both the Fire Brigade and Nursing Unions had been going. Both were beginning to receive public support. It was almost as if the UK electorate just did not get it.

  Other factors which had swayed the polls towards the Opposition was the news that a back bencher had recently been photographed while coming out of a brothel. This wouldn't have been so bad had the said minister's wife not been eight months pregnant. It was almost as if these men, who had the best of educations, thought constantly with their dicks and even the Prime Minister had an illegitimate child outside of his marriage. It was only a matter of time before the world's press found out. It would be at that point that Elizabeth Price Jones would put herself forward to the party for the top job.

  As she looked out of the window her eye caught the photograph of her and her father in a time long since passed. The photograph showed a loving and warm man who had just given his ten-year-old daughter her first horse, Shadow. The photo betrayed what her father was really like, he was a bully through and through. Although he paid for Elizabeth to have one of the best educations in the world, in the best private school in the country, Elizabeth hated the school holidays where she would have to return home to her abusive father and nonchalant mother.

  Even her brother, Giles, had feared her father, however Giles had more in the way of favouritism from both of her parents. Not long after the photograph was taken, her father had died of a massive heart attack. Attending the funeral, all the good and great of the business world turned out to show their respects. However, in hindsight, most of them had no real loyalty to her father or her family. In fact, once the money had gone there was very few friends around. Fortunately, her father had paid for her education upfront and she continued with her studies, trying to win back favour on the family name. At the same time, Giles had blown all of his inheritance, and last she heard, he was living in America.

  The whole thing made her bitter, bitter against how her father had bullied her and her mother, bitter at the fact her father had died, bitter at the fact her mother had fallen apart soon after the funeral. She was consumed with anger, and this made her more determined than ever to change the world in which she was brought up. Ultimately this left her on a path of politics. Her job was now the UK Home Secretary.

  On her desk was a file on Rob Foster. It was a top-secret file as it included not only his medical history but also all details of all his military service. It had been wildly publicised in the news about Foster's escape. The news stories became even more sensationalised when it transpired Foster had been living in Edinburgh working as a minder for an escort agency. At the same time as he was on the run, Foster had handed the Edinburgh police a corrupt policeman. The policeman himself was caught up in drugs, prostitution, perjury. It was a tabloid's dream.

  The more the Home Secretary read about Foster, the more she could not help but warm to him, even in her position. However, the fact was, this escapee was her department, as she was responsible for what went on in the Home Office. Again, thinking tactically, this may even affect the polls even further if this situation was not contained. She toyed with the idea that it may be best all around, if Foster was eliminated, but she quickly dismissed this, not least because Rob Foster could be used as an asset. She picked up her phone on the desk and said, "Put me through to the SAS at Hereford. I want to speak to Sergeant Knott immediately."

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  It was raining as Dr Beaumont entered the reception at Hull Royal Infirmary. She made her way to the Casualty Department and asked the reception where Ricky Foster was being treated. The receptionist looked on her computer and pointed Dr Beaumont to the overnight ward behind the casualty department. It was a Friday night and it was full of the usual drunks, hypochondriacs and overzealous security. As she approached the admissions ward, she introduced herself to one of the doctors behind the desk.

  "Good evening, my name's Dr Beaumont. I'm here in an unofficial capacity, as I would like to have a word with one of your patients, Ricky Foster."

  The doctor behind the desk smiled and she held out her hand, which Charlotte received. "Hi, I'm Doctor Patridge. We spoke on the phone, I believe."

  Charlotte was reassured, and both doctors made light conversation as they made their way towards Ricky Foster's bed. Dr Patridge explained that she didn't think Ricky had long, in fact, he had already contracted pneumonia.

  The attending doctor pulled back the curtain on Ricky Foster's cubicle, and she quickly glanced over her patient, before saying to Ricky, "Ricky, you've got a visitor here."

  Ricky looked up from his death bed to see Charlotte Beaumont, and in almost a whisper he said, "Come in. Sit down."

  Both doctors looked at each other and nodded as Dr Patridge left the cubicle and headed back towards her desk, leaving Dr Beaumont alone with Ricky. Dr Beaumont had worked with the dying before during her medical training, however this was a different set of circumstances. It was something she wasn't trained for.

  "Mr Foster, my name's Doctor Beaumont. I'd like a quick word with you, if I may."

  Ricky almost smiled and said, "I know who you are, love. I can still read the papers you know, I'm not that dead." Then he added, "Pull up a chair, love, sit yourself down."

  Charlotte did as she was told, and the plastic chair scraped harshly on the tiled floor as she sat down. Then she asked, "Has Rob been to see you, Ricky?"

  Ricky looked disappointed and sighed. "I can't help you, love. I've not seen him."

  "It's really important. I need to find him. My little girl has gone missing in Africa and the police think he's gone there to look for her. I just don't know what to do with myself." As Charlotte spoke those words, she realised the complexity of the situation.

  Ricky replied, "He's stubborn, my son. Once he's got his sights set on something, he won't change his mind. Just like his mother. She was a determined one too. You could say the whole family is bloody minded. My other son did what he wanted to do, damn the consequences."

  Charlotte's ears pricked up. "I didn't realise Rob had a brother."

  Ricky replied, "Yeah, our Peter. He's a Hell's Angel or biker or something. Last I heard he was working in Liverpool or Glasgow, or somewhere."

  Charlotte was surprised. There was nothing in Rob's file about his brother. Then she asked, "Rob never spoke about him, why was that?"

  "They had a fallout some years ago, we all did, before my wife died. It was nothing spectacular, just some dolly bird both my sons got caught up with. Our Rob and Peter spent the whole night fighting in the back garden. My wife tried to stop them but I held her back. I told her to just let them get on with it. But it even surprised me how long the fight went on."

  "Who won the fight in the end?" Charlotte asked.

  "Neither did. I went outside with a pickaxe handle and belted them both. Soon after that Peter left."
>
  Charlotte thought for a minute and then asked, "Would Peter know where Rob is?"

  Ricky then started to cough furiously. At the same time spots of blood flew out of his mouth. Charlotte put her arm on Ricky's shoulder.

  Ricky then continued, "I doubt very much our Peter would know where Rob is. They both took different paths. Ricky thought for a moment and added, "I can tell you this, if our Rob has gone looking for your little girl, if there's any iota of a chance of finding her and bringing her back, our Rob'll do it. He'll keep just going and going and going, leaving no stone unturned. Nothing will faze my son. Like I said, he'll just keep going and going, completely bloody minded."

  It was almost comforting to her what she heard, in fact it was her first time since Amelia had gone missing that she felt reassured in some way or another. Charlotte was about to leave, realising Ricky did not have long, as she stood up, she said, "I'm sorry to bother you with this, Mr Foster. I'll leave you alone with your thoughts."

  Ricky looked up and said, "I've not got long left now, love. I can feel it pulling me under." As he spoke, he wearily held up his left hand. "I don't wanna die alone. I reckon I've got a half hour, tops. Will you stay with me until I go?"

  Instinctively Dr Beaumont took Ricky's hand and sat down again. Neither patient nor doctor said a word, but Charlotte continued to hold Ricky Foster's hand, his grip getting weaker and weaker by the minute. Within ten minutes Ricky Foster's eyes were closed, his hand had gone limp. Within five more minutes Ricky Foster breathed in for the last time and then gently passed away. All the time Charlotte Beaumont holding his hand.

  Charlotte stayed with Ricky for another half hour, at which point she felt it was an appropriate time to leave. As she made her way through the hospital, she thought about what Ricky had told her on his death bed. Walking through the exit, she stopped and took a breath.

  Stood at the exit were various patients, some in wheelchairs, some attached to drips, all smoking. She ignored it and looked up into the night sky. Then she whispered, "If there's a God, please help Rob Foster bring my little girl home."