‘How many haircuts would the hairdresser need to do before he started to make a profit?’ he asked himself.
Greg thought that the next time he went there he would not give the guy a tip, though he would give him the same false smile and false gestures. Greg got pleasure from taking the piss out of ungrateful dickheads, as he liked to label them. He thought that people like that should be happy with what they had got because there were people out there with a hell of a lot less. Most people could only ever dream of working for themselves, having their own business.
‘You never know what you’ve got till it’s gone,’ Greg thought to himself.
Once Greg had finished his meal, he cleared his own mess away, got back into his van and drove home.
As he was walking up the stairs to his flat his mobile phone beeped.
‘Ah a message,’ Greg said out loud, both his hangover and Trace now a distant memory.
As he got inside his flat, he took his phone from his pocket and selected to read his message.
Hello u! Wen we gonna av this drink then? Finkin bout u. K. xx
Greg decided that he would amuse himself by answering a question with a question; play a little game.
He selected the reply option and began to type.
Well then! Wenz OK 4 u 2 buy me this drink then? Who r ya? XX
Greg giggled to himself, as he pressed the send button on his phone because he knew what Karen’s response was going to be. Karen liked the fact that Greg was always joking, though he never treated her as anything less than a goddess. Karen knew that Greg respected her and that was why she could not understand him ending the relationship.
Greg’s phone bleeped very soon after he’d sent his message.
‘Wow you’re on the ball!’ he said.
R u going 2 b thirsty L8er? xx Karen’s message read.
Always thirsty on a Sat nite! Why? XX Greg replied.
Greg did not get a reply from Karen so he assumed that Karen had got bored with the game. Then, out of the blue, his phone rang. Greg picked it up and looked at the caller display to see if it was someone he knew.
The display read ‘HOT KAREN calling.’ Greg had not changed the caller I.D. Greg smiled, and then answered the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Who are ya?’ the voice at the other end asked.
‘Who’s that?’ Greg asked, pretending not to know who it was.
‘You know who it is, you cheeky sod!’ the voice snapped back.
‘If you are planning to buy me a drink tonight that’s not the way to greet me, is it?’ Greg laughed down the phone.
Karen thought that he seemed very relaxed compared to when they had bumped in to each other on the train. Then, Greg had seemed as though he wanted to be anywhere else but on that train with Karen.
‘Who said I wanted to buy you a drink?’
‘You seem very keen!’ Greg replied.
‘What makes you think that?’ Karen asked, as she giggled.
‘I’m the one who was supposed to phone you, not the other way round,’ Greg said answering Karen’s question for the first time.
‘Wow, you actually answered one of my questions! Anyway, if I waited for you, I’d be waiting forever,’ Karen giggled.
‘How keen are you?’ Greg asked.
‘Not overly keen. Just at a loose end,’ Karen replied. Her tone suggested that she was toying with Greg.
‘Well, this call must be costing you a bomb… mobile to mobile… across networks,’ Greg stated with a sarcastic, juvenile tone to his voice.
‘How do you know I haven’t changed networks and kept my number?’ Karen answered.
‘Maybe you have. But it still doesn’t hide the fact that you’re keen,’ Greg replied.
The conversation seemed to be going full circle.
‘How do you know that?’ Karen asked, trying to make Greg play her game.
‘I know you, that’s why,’ Greg felt on the back foot, ‘How do you know I’m still with the same network? I may have changed networks and kept my number,’ Greg said quickly trying to turn Karen’s earlier question back on her.
‘Cos I know you. Anyway, enough of the games. Are we going for a drink tonight or what?’ Karen asked. She was beginning to think about how much this phone call was going to cost her if Greg really had changed mobile phone networks.
‘I don’t know… Hmm, let me think…’ Greg was still trying to continue the game.
‘Greg!’ Karen said, abruptly, ‘this call is costing me an absolute bomb! It’s a simple question.’ She paused, thinking that she might scare him off, coming on too strong or maybe rushing things. But they had been here before and he knew her well enough. ‘Where and what time shall we meet?’
‘How about the Punch and Judy?’ Greg replied knowing that Karen was being serious.
‘New Covent Garden?’ Karen replied, wondering why they could not meet somewhere nearer to home.
‘Why not? It’s nice there,’ Greg tried to explain his choice.
‘It’ll be packed and we live close to each other, why not meet up nearer to home?’ Karen said wanting not to travel too far. The truth was that she was feeling tired but it was Saturday night and she wanted to see Greg.
‘OK, where then?’ Greg asked.
‘How about… The Broadway?’ Karen replied once again answering a question with a question.
‘Yeah,’ Greg answered, ‘we like it in there.’
‘At least we’ll be able to hear each other talk in there?’ Karen replied.
The Broadway was a very nice pub located in Kingsbury, close to Wembley Park. Greg would catch a train from Wembley Park and be at Kingsbury Station ten minutes later.
‘What time do you want me there?’ Greg asked.
‘Is half eight OK?’ Karen replied.
‘Sounds good to me… see you then.’ Greg was now bored with the conversation and wanted to concentrate on other things.
‘OK. Don’t be late,’ Karen said sounding cheerful.
‘See you later – eight-thirty on the dot!’ Greg confirmed, before terminating their telephone conversation.
***
Greg found himself consumed with Brian, Sharon and their baby. Greg had thought that there must be questions that he still needed to find answers to, though at the moment he was unable to think of any.
Greg’s plan was to gain entry into the house when Brian was not at home. He knew that Brian went to the pub every night and did not get back until midnight. So Greg had decided that he would get to Brian’s house at around ten o’clock and simply knock the front door. As Sharon opened the front door, Greg would barge his way in.
Greg had made a mental note that the front door did not have a spy-hole so there was no way that Sharon could see who was outside without opening the door. Greg knew that before then, he would have to visit the house to have a look at the local layout. He would need to make a detailed escape route in order to make his departure without being noticed.
He would also need to think of a way to overpower Sharon very quickly, and with the minimum of commotion. He decided on using a tactic that has been used many times by the police. He would simply go for a surprise attack, using his strength to force her back in to the house. The surprise element would be enough to get the fear factor he wanted. Deciding where to hold both Sharon and the baby until Brian got home from the pub was another quandary. He thought that playing this by ear was the best tactic. Then he would need to overpower and control Brian; brute force would be the way. Once Greg had achieved all this, he would then have to force Sharon to kill Brian. ‘That,’ Greg thought, ‘would be the easy part.’ He would simply place Sharon in a predicament. If she did not kill Brian, the consequences would outweigh the alternative. The path was already laid out for her – not for her, for her baby. Her maternal instincts would ensure that she put her baby first.
Greg had not planned further than that. He knew that he would have to see how events went and adapt.
His getaway plan was simple: to slip away into the shadows.
Greg did not plan on killing anyone. Both Sharon and the baby would be left alive. It would take Sharon a considerable amount of time before she mentally returned back to normal. Her mind would not be able to concentrate in a rational manner. Her focus would be lost – though her maternal instincts, along with her newfound ability for survival, would suck her back to reality. What she would do then would be any one’s guess.
Greg did not intend to kill any of his victims. His victims would kill each other and there had to be survivors. It would be the survivors who would be the common link between Greg and the authorities. He needed to be careful. It would be those survivors who committed the murders, not Greg. With the lack of evidence, along with an almost invisible trail, the link between Greg, the survivors and their victims would be untraceable. Greg would need to remain anonymous.
His anonymity would always be intact – the costume and mask would ensure that his features were never revealed. Once in character, his voice would be that of his alter ego, as if the two people within him had come from completely different back grounds.
Greg thought that, in this case, the young baby would have a better start in life if its mother and father had no input in its upbringing. The father would be deceased and the mother would be safely locked away, at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.
If the child were raised by either, or both, parents the child would end up a clone-like version of them. All the bad, inbred antisocial behaviour, neglect and turbulence would continue to fester and the cycle would continue. The poor child would not have a chance to integrate with modern society. After all, we do not choose our parents, they chose us. We have to work and make the best hand from the cards we are dealt. If we are dealt a bum hand, why not fold and demand a re-deal?
Chapter Six
Greg’s mobile phone bleeped.
‘Who’s texting me now?’ he thought. It was Karen.
Please meet me outside the pub. K. XXX
Greg thought that was a silly text as he would have expected to meet Karen outside the pub. But, knowing Karen as he did, he decided it would be better if he let her know that he was already planning to wait for her outside the tube station. He sent her a reply informing her of his plans.
His thoughts went back to Sharon, Brian and their baby. He couldn’t get them out of his mind. He thought that the whole ordeal would have to be controlled by him even down to how long it would take from start to finish. Time, though, was on his side.
Brian would get home at around midnight; Greg would have to work fast to ensure everything was in place for his return. Though not too fast, otherwise Brian would not be truly sorry. Once Brian had returned home, it would be Sharon who would need to take control – she would be Brian’s executioner. That was if she had the nerve. It was a gamble, but Greg knew what she would do.
Brian would need to suffer maximum discomfort along with excruciating pain before he died. Brian needed to understand why this punishment was being dealt to him, why it was in this way and why the mother of his child was his killer. There had to be a purpose to it all.
When Sharon was later questioned by the police, she would have to explain why a complete stranger had forced his way into their house and forced Sharon to kill the father of her child. The fate of both Sharon and the child was in the hands of the authorities. Greg would need to make Sharon understand all of this, before Brian’s imminent demise.
Greg glanced at the watch on his wrist and realized that it was time he started to make himself something to eat before having a shower and meeting Karen. He had not given any thought as to what to wear. He had not done any ironing for nearly a week now and the heap of creased clothes was piling up.
Greg decided that he would find the easiest things to iron. It was not as if he needed to impress Karen, after all they had done this once before and Greg was not going to let Karen come on all heavy. It was just a casual sexual relationship and Greg was going to let Karen know that, though in his own subtle way.
Chapter Seven
Greg was already outside the tube station when Karen arrived.
She had the look on her face that suggested that she had got the cream and was not sure if what was happening was real – it all seemed real enough. Greg was there, looking as dapper and as handsome as he always had done, in Karen’s eyes anyway.
‘You’re eager,’ Karen said, as she approached her date.
‘No, Karen, you’re normally late!’
Greg took Karen’s hand, leading the way, as they both made a beeline across the busy main road, dodging the oncoming traffic.
Kingsbury was busy, bustling like the rest of the outskirts of the capital. Most pubs, clubs and restaurants centred around the busy tube station. Kingsbury Road served as the main thoroughfare through the town.
The Broadway Public House sat almost opposite the busy tube station. Situated next door to an impressive multiplex cinema, which boasted twelve separate screens. As the couple arrived outside their destination, Karen looked at Greg, readying herself to say something.
‘Let’s get inside. It’s too noisy out here!’ Greg said, whilst he opened the door to the public bar.
As they walked towards the bar, Greg nudged Karen.
‘What are you drinking?’
‘White wine, please.’
‘OK, small or large?’
‘Large of course,’ Karen smiled.
As they reached the bar, after navigating their way through the bustling crowed – Greg started to wave a twenty pound note in the air in order to attract the attention of one of the bar staff – it worked.
‘Yes, mate,’ one of the barmen asked.
Greg ordered a couple of drinks, paid the barman, then turned to face Karen.
‘Shall we find a table and sit down?’ Karen asked feeling a little enclosed, the bar area was crowded, with no elbow room.
‘Yeah, good idea.’
Greg followed Karen to a table situated in the corner of the bar. They sat down.
‘I want us to lay down some foundations Karen,’ Greg said, as the pair sat.
Karen gave a puzzled look, though did not answer.
‘I want to take it slow… I don’t want anything heavy… No repeat of where we went wrong… Am I making sense? Bloody hell, this is hard!’ Greg took a gulp a beer.
‘Why complicate things, Greg. Let’s take it a day at a time. I know that I smothered you, and that was why you finished with me.’
‘You…’ Greg tried.
‘Hold on a moment. If you want something casual, that’s cool. But, if we are going to be shag-buddies, then you only shag me, and I only shag you. I don’t want you shagging any other birds, is that clear? They’ll be no bed-hopping Greg! I don’t want you giving me an STD or anything else for that matter.’
Greg was shocked. It was as though she had read his mind.
‘That’s exactly what I want. Not the bed-hopping, I just don’t want us living in each other’s pockets. It’s not as if we own each other, but we aren’t having an open relationship either.’
‘So you want a casual relationship without the strings or the infidelity?’
‘Yeah, that’s exactly what I want, if that makes sense?’
‘To me it does – as long as we understand each other.’
They both chinked their glasses and kissed. The pair enjoyed talking about everything and nothing. As the conversation deepened, Greg and Karen completely lost track of time, forgetting if either of them may have wanted to go on to another pub – the area was awash with quaint establishments. The little bubble they had been locked in burst when the barman rang the bell for last orders.
‘Do you want another one for the road?’ Greg asked Karen.
‘No thanks. But you go ahead if you want one.’
‘Nah, I won’t have another on my own,’ he smiled, ‘I’ve had enough to drink for one night.’
There was a pause, an uncomfortable silenc
e. Someone had to ask the question. Greg decided that as he was the man, it had better be him.
‘Do you fancy coming back to mine?’
‘OK,’ Karen replied. ‘I suppose we’d better consummate our shag-buddy type of relationship,’ she said giggling with a sheepish smile.
They stood up, left the pub and headed for the tube station, hand in hand.
‘Are you hungry?’ Greg asked.
‘No, I’m fine, are you?’
‘Nah, I thought I’d be a gentleman, that’s all.’
‘What, and offer me a kebab?’ Karen laughed.
‘They sell burgers too,’ Greg replied, joining her laughter.
They continued their journey to the tube station and boarded the train that was already waiting at the platform. During the short journey, they both sat close to one another in silence, arms wrapped firmly, kissing at intervals. No need for conversation.
As the train stopped at Wembley Park Tube Station, Greg waited for Karen to step out of the carriage first. He followed her closely, eyeing up her firm buttocks.
The walk from the tube station to Greg’s flat would normally take approximately ten minutes. Though they were not in any particular hurry.
‘It could be worse,’ Karen said.
‘What? It could be raining!’ Greg replied, patting Karen’s bottom.
‘No,’ Karen smiled. ‘It could be snowing,’ she replied, patting Greg on his bottom.
The pair continued walking down Bridge Road, the long hill from the station made the walk pleasurable. Navigating their way across the main road, they arrived at the entrance to Greg’s flat.
Walking through a gap between two high walls where a gate used to be, they followed a path that led to the main communal doors. It was covered by security cameras – although they had never worked and were mainly there as a deterrent. At least the intercom worked.
Using his key, Greg opened the main door and pressed the energy-saving timer switch with his elbow whilst he held the door with his other hand.
‘Forever the gentleman,’ Karen commented, giving a squeaky giggle.
The Ultimate Selection: Be Careful Who You Talk To Page 6