The House of Killers, Book 1

by Samantha Lee Howe

  ‘It’ll be transferred this afternoon if this doesn’t prove to be a red herring,’ Neva says, making her decision. Then she turns and walks away.

  She’s careful to make sure she hasn’t been seen as she leaves the gardens. She hails a taxi and then heads into Richmond. There she goes to an internet café and logs on and reviews the email servers and chatrooms she uses in the dark Web via a VPN she already has set up. Another source has sent her a file on Mr M. A. Beech and his company, along with a photograph of the man. Neva frowns at the picture, wondering if she’s seen him before. She can’t remember. He has white-blond hair, is in his late fifties, and dresses with a great deal of finesse. Some would call him a silver fox, though he’s really too young for that epithet. She googles him. The man is generally private and so she doesn’t find much about him online with the exception of his attendance at various charity functions with a different supermodel on his arm each time.

  She sends the information in an encrypted email to herself to access later. Then she logs off and leaves the café before any suspicions are aroused.

  In another taxi back to Michael’s flat, she removes the tattoo sleeve and puts on a jacket she takes from her rucksack. Then she looks inside the folder that Sophia gave her. Inside is the complete financial history of Beech’s company, along with an address.

  She decides she’s going to stake out the place a little before returning to Michael’s. She gives the driver instructions to take her to the nearest tube station instead.

  Then she stuffs the folder back into the plastic wallet and puts it into her rucksack.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Michael

  ‘I’m glad you’re here!’ says Ray as I enter my office.

  ‘What’s up?’ I ask.

  ‘There’ve been some more abductions,’ Leon says.

  ‘From schools?’

  ‘No, this time our perp took them from a variety of play areas. Simultaneously,’ Ray explains.

  I shouldn’t have had the second glass of wine at lunch, because I’m feeling a little woozy.

  A few hours earlier, Uncle Andrew called and said he was in town. I had slipped out for a long lunch. It’s not something I usually do, but it’s not often Andrew is in the area.

  I sit down at my desk, wondering how I allowed Andrew to tempt me with that second chardonnay during the working day. But I don’t suppose it matters.

  I shake the fugue off after a coffee and I wade through all the paperwork generated by the recent abductions. While I wait for more information and Ray’s instructions, it occurs to me that we don’t normally get pulled in to such cases so quickly. Usually there’s something else that makes a regular abduction come to our attention. But this isn’t ordinary, I can see that, and it’s linked, I’m sure, to everything else we’re working on, and especially to Neva.

  There are seven children missing. Four boys, three girls, and it’s obvious that this is connected to the previous abductions that Beth and I have been working on. What is the significance of seven, I wonder? Odd numbers are always conspicuous. I make a note to ask Neva about this and see if my words prompt some memory that may help us find the answers we seek.

  ‘Mike?’

  I look up and find Ray standing by the door.

  ‘You okay?’ he says.

  ‘Sorry, yes. I was thinking about this case.’

  ‘The local police are still collating evidence but we may need you and Leon to travel to the locations and find out what you can,’ Ray says. ‘Interview some of these parents, or whoever was with the kids at the time.’

  ‘Of course. It’s connected. It has to be.’

  Ray nods. ‘I’m sure of that too.’

  He walks away and I return my attention to the information I’ve received so far.

  Like the others, the children are aged between five and seven. All from wealthy or middle-class families. One of the parents is a CEO of a conglomerate. There’s a footnote on this file; they are expecting a ransom note, but I doubt they will ever get one.

  The day finishes and I find myself still looking at my computer as silence descends on the building. It’s not that the place is particularly noisy during the day but there is a sudden absence of sound. A vacuum that becomes stillness. As though the air stops moving.

  I blink. I hear the security guard sweeping the rooms to make sure everything is locked up. My computer is still on, but it’s in privacy mode – an extra security that screens what I’m looking at even from colleagues. I shut it all down and stand. I’m stiff, and annoyed with myself for having fallen asleep. Neva must be wondering where I am and why I’ve not come home. Perhaps she’s even worried.

  I make sure my office and any private documents are locked up, then I take my briefcase and leave.

  It’s only when I’m halfway home that I realise I didn’t check up on the image search I’d started for the house using the picture scanned from the Brayford Prep School prospectus. It’s not like me to be so forgetful. I really shouldn’t drink at all during the day. I’m a total lightweight these days.

  I get back to the flat after 9pm and walk in to find Neva sitting by the door.

  She has a gun pointed straight at my head.

  Chapter Sixty

  Neva

  Earlier that day

  Beech Corp is in central London, not far from Piccadilly. Neva takes the tube to Piccadilly Circus. It is risky being here, especially if Beech is involved with the Network. They may have operatives looking out for her, even though she shouldn’t know about him or his involvement.

  Across the road she pretends to window shop. From there she locates all the street cameras and takes note of the front door that leads into the building. Beech’s business is in an impressive white structure, and it takes up two floors above a popular store. It isn’t what she expected to find, because this company makes several billion a year. In many ways, it’s lost among the shops around Piccadilly Circus. The sign above the door doesn’t stand out, but what Neva does notice is the security guard just inside, and the camera covering the door.

  Neva stays clear of all the cameras. She goes inside a store and pretends to browse the clothing, while glancing occasionally out through the window and across the road to Beech Corp. From her vantage point she could be there within minutes, but what would be gained by exposing her presence?

  She leaves the store when an assistant starts to take too much notice of her. Then she walks away, browsing in another shop window, using the highly polished glass to observe the building across the road.

  By lunchtime, Neva begins to wonder what she can learn from this observation. No one has gone in or out of the building all the time she’s been there. She is about to give up when a black limousine pulls up nearby. Because this area is busy, and stopping is awkward, the driver doesn’t get out, but the passengers do.

  She sees Beech emerge and right behind him is … Michael.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Michael

  ‘Hey!’ I say. ‘It’s me. You can put that thing away.’

  Neva does not lower the gun.

  Without taking my eyes from her, I push the front door closed. It wouldn’t do for a neighbour to casually walk by and see this situation.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I ask.

  Neva’s face is blank. I realise I am looking at her professional facade.

  ‘Before you kill me,’ I say, ‘I’d at least like to know why.’

  ‘Sit down. Over there,’ she says, pointing to the sofa. ‘Take it slow.’

  I pass her and the gun follows me; all the time I’m wondering how the fuck I’m getting out of this one. My eyes search her face for any sign of empathy. Have I been played these last few days? Have I let myself be lulled into a false sense of security? Have I made a complete and utter dick of myself?

  I sit down and look at her. Then I place my hands on my knees.

  ‘I’m going to ask you some questions,’ she says, ‘and if I don’t like the answe
rs or I feel you’re lying, I’m going to kill you.’

  I study her and know she means every word. The gun has a silencer; no one will even hear it happen. My heart is thudding in my chest. I wonder if she can hear it.

  ‘Okay,’ I say.

  Where is this going? She’s cold and deadly, ready to end our blossoming relationship with one twitch of the trigger. I’m disappointed, but shouldn’t be so surprised. This is, after all, who she is.

  ‘Where were you today?’ she asks.

  ‘This is all because I’m late, right?’ I try to laugh but see she’s deadly serious. ‘All right. Let’s talk about my day. First thing, I went back to the prep school and tried to see the head again. I wanted to ask about the house,’ I say. ‘She wasn’t there and neither was the photograph.’

  ‘Where did you go after that?’

  ‘I bought us some phones. Used cash. I wanted to be able to keep in touch with you.’

  She nods. I’m still staring down the barrel of the gun; she hasn’t finished asking me everything, but I’m not dead yet so maybe that’s a good sign that we can sort out whatever is upsetting her.

  ‘Then?’

  ‘Into the office. But you know I can’t discuss what happened there, no matter how much you threaten me,’ I say.

  ‘You’re working for a spy taskforce, Michael, I wouldn’t expect anything else. What about this afternoon?’

  ‘I met my uncle for lunch. At Borough Market. We ate lobster and drank chardonnay. I drank two glasses.’

  Neva’s eyes narrow as though she doesn’t believe me.

  ‘Did you hear yourself then?’ she says. ‘That last bit sounded rehearsed. Like it’s something you’ve been told to say.’

  ‘What are you talking about? I met my uncle for lunch. At Borough Market. We ate lobster and drank chardonnay. I drank two glasses…’ I say. She’s right; it feels practised, even on my tongue. Like something I’ve learnt to say that day.

  She points with the gun to her mobile phone on the coffee table.

  ‘Look in the photographs on that thing. Try to ring anyone and I’ll put a bullet in your brain.’

  I pick up the phone and open it to recent photos. Then I see an image of a white building, a limo, and myself.

  ‘What is this?’ I say.

  ‘Who’s the man with you?’ she asks.

  ‘My uncle, Andrew. But…’ I tail off. ‘I wasn’t anywhere near his offices today.’

  ‘Your uncle? He’s … Mr Beech…’ she says.

  ‘Yes. Michael Andrew Beech, but everyone calls him Andrew. My parents named me Michael after him.’

  Neva lowers the gun but she doesn’t put it down.

  ‘Look, what is this?’ I say. I’m feeling more confident now that there’s been a misunderstanding. But I’m totally confused by the photos.

  ‘Tell me what you did today,’ she says again. ‘Every detail. This is important.’

  ‘When I got into the office, I received a call from Andrew inviting me to lunch. He’s not in London that often; he lives…’ My mind has gone blank on where Andrew lives. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter where. He just comes in for business occasionally.’

  ‘You say you went to lunch? But then?’

  ‘Back to work.’

  ‘What time did you return to work?’ she asks.

  I close my eyes, trying to think.

  ‘I took a long break, maybe two hours. So I think I got back at about 2pm.’

  ‘Michael, you arrived at that building at 12.30pm and you didn’t leave until three. You were there two and a half hours. I was outside the whole time.’

  ‘No,’ I deny. ‘I remember every bite of that food, and I felt tipsy when I got back. I shouldn’t have—’

  ‘Have you ever lost time before?’ Neva interrupts.

  Her words shock me. I want to deny it. But then I recall that a few days ago my milk was drugged.

  ‘Think, Michael! This is important.’

  ‘I … don’t know.’

  ‘Who is Andrew?’ she persists.

  ‘My uncle, I told you.’

  ‘Your dad’s brother? Your mother’s?’

  ‘He’s not a blood relation. He was a close friend of my dad. He’s my godfather,’ I say. ‘Mine and Mia’s.’

  Neva nods. ‘Yes, your sister, Mia. Does she meet him for lunch occasionally too?’

  I shake my head, confused. There is a memory of Mia and Andrew sitting talking. Something back when we were kids. And Ben had mentioned he had gone to visit them, so yes, they must meet up sometimes. I’m confused and struggling to believe what Neva has captured in her pictures. I look through them again. Yes, there is Andrew. There is me. And they show today’s date. I don’t know how she could have faked them but my brain won’t accept it.

  ‘It’s not me,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t there. We were in a restaurant at Borough. Perhaps I have a doppelgänger.’

  ‘And your uncle does too then presumably?’

  Neva stands. She clicks the safety back on the gun and puts it down on the seat she’s just vacated.

  ‘I have a theory for you,’ she says.

  ‘I’m listening.’ Anything to explain this madness. This loss of time.

  Then she begins to tell me about the house again.

  I’m exhausted when she finishes outlining her thoughts. I don’t believe it, but I can’t deny the day was bizarre. I’d even blacked out at my desk while working, only to wake confused. And that thing of using privacy mode, I had known what it was, but not how I knew it, or how I’d achieved it. I still didn’t.

  ‘I think they’ve been drugging you for a while,’ she says again. ‘They want to use you for something, perhaps to tell them secrets.’

  ‘But I’ve known Andrew my entire life. I just can’t believe he’d be involved in this.’

  Neva goes into the kitchen. I hear the tap running and she returns with a glass of water.

  ‘Hydrate,’ she says.

  I’m nervous as she holds out the glass. What if she’s behind the drugging and all of this is some elaborate ruse?

  As if she can sense my doubt, she lifts the glass to her lips and glugs down a large amount. Then she holds it out to me again.

  ‘Drink. You need this.’

  The water is like nectar to my tongue. I hadn’t realised how thirsty I was. Neva watches me gulp the last dregs and then she goes back to the kitchen and refills it. I don’t doubt her this time and I take the glass and drain it quickly.

  ‘It’s the drugs,’ she says. ‘I remember the feeling well.’

  ‘You think it’s the same stuff they gave you as a child? But why me? How is this even possible? It would mean we are both connected to the Network. And I swear I have no memory of anything like this happening before.’

  ‘Let’s get some sleep,’ she says.

  ‘But your theory. What you just said …’

  ‘It’s just a theory, Michael. We don’t know. But I have an idea where we can find out. Where’re those burners you bought?’

  I open my briefcase and pull out the phones. We unpack them and activate them both, exchanging numbers. I take them into the kitchen and plug them in to charge overnight.

  Then I follow Neva, gun now back in her hand, to our borrowed bedroom.

  ‘You take the bed,’ she says. Then she sits in the chair by the window.

  ‘We could do shifts?’ I suggest.

  ‘No. I’ll sleep, but in the chair, so I’m ready if anything happens.’

  The thought that something might happen is not conducive to relaxation and sleep, but I do as she says and get into the bed.

  ‘Just for the record, I doubt anyone will come here. They had you earlier – whatever their motive. And if you’d betrayed me, they’d have been here today before you got back.’

  ‘Betrayed you? No, I’d never—’

  ‘You wouldn’t have a choice, Michael! They’d ask you and you’d answer under their influence. But I can only assume that they don’t suspect we’
ve even met and so they never ask you about me.’

  I process this, feeling frightened and sick and out of control. Can this really be happening? I voice my disbelief again.

  ‘The camera doesn’t lie. I saw you there. It may be hard to comprehend but you were there. On some level you were operating normally, but they make you forget what you did. No one knows that better than me,’ she says.

  ‘But how did they make me forget?’ I ask. I have to understand.

  ‘It’s been a long day. Get some rest,’ she says. ‘Tomorrow we travel and get some answers. Hopefully the ones you really need to get through this.’

  I lie down, turn the lamp off beside the bed, and close my eyes.

  Behind my eyes I see her again, waiting for my return, gun pointing at the door, and then at me. My heart speeds up. A surge of adrenaline is residual from that moment. Yet I feel safe that she’s there in the room, watching over me like an avenging angel.

  ‘Michael!’

  I open my eyes and find a little girl with fair hair staring at me. It’s dark in the room, but a shaft of light seeps in from the open door.

  I’m in the dormitory of my school. I’ve only been here a few weeks and already I wish I was home with my parents. What they teach us is strange.

  ‘What is it?’ I whisper back at the girl.

  She looks over her shoulder at the door. She moves from one foot to the other as though ready to flee at a second’s notice. Then she drops down beside my bed, and climbs underneath it. I lean over the edge and look at her hiding there.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

  ‘They’re coming for you…’ she says.