by Peter Repton
‘No need to apologise, Charlie, I know you did the best you could,’ Ford said with a deep sigh adding, ‘We have not got much to go on at all.’
‘Oh, there is one other thing...’ Sir Charles offered.
‘I knew this girl was about ten weeks pregnant by looking at her medical records from her GP. Might be worth finding out who the father was. Though it’s unlikely, he would be the one responsible for such savagery.’
‘That’s the one thing that bothers me Sir Charles, the depraved savage manner in which this young woman died. Whoever did it might strike again somewhere soon? The one suspect we have does not seem the type of man to be capable of such a deed. He has no motive for it at all,’ Ford said with intense frustration showing in his voice.
‘The truth is Jack; we are all capable of such things, given the right circumstances. I suggest you contact my good friend Doctor Barry Smith. He is on the square also one of the nation’s foremost forensic psychiatrists. Barry may be able to give you a few pointers on what makes this particular killer tick.’
‘Thank you Sir Charles, I might just do that. Goodbye and you take care. I suggest you take something for that cough.’
Marlboro’s reference to Smith being on the square meant he too was a fellow Mason. Ford replaced the handset, placed his hands behind his head. He leant back in his chair, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.
‘What am I going to do now?’ he cried aloud and then thumped his desk hard.
‘I have no leads. No evidence. No Kempston and worst of all. No bloody whisky!’
18
On Tuesday night David read the newspaper, it only provided scant details of the crime. The main news story was about a massive earthquake outside Istanbul killing thousands. The police said they wanted to interview him just to help with their inquiries. But David knew if captured, he could not fulfil his task in time. Quite recently his life was taking a strange turn. But since last Thursday night, his life changed forever.
David finished his Chinese meal, eating spare ribs, chicken curry and Singapore Chow Mein. Fatigue hit him hard again as his blood concentrated in his gut to digest the meal. The urge to sleep overwhelmed him. He also felt an intense throbbing pain at the back of his head; his nose started to bleed. Deciding to lay down for a while until it stopped, he fell fast asleep on the small bed.
After less than five minutes his muscles twitched, and his eyelids flickered. Soon he convulsed violently, his eyes rolled back into his sockets. David remained in this convulsive state for almost twenty minutes then snapped wide awake. Gathering his wits he rushed across the tiny bed-sit, booted up his laptop, he logged onto an email address provider, creating a false username. Setting up an online e-mail account to send or receive mail from any location was easy.
David drafted a letter, sending it into cyberspace. As an afterthought, he then created and sent the second one. Then the desperate need for sleep overtook him once more. He collapsed on his bed again, lapsing into unconsciousness. Still in his clothes in his uncomfortable little bedsit miles from his wife and home, with the TV still on.
Early on Wednesday morning in Washington State USA, Professor Staples of the United States Geological Survey was in the Cascades Volcano Observatory near Mount Baker in the northern end of the Cascades mountain range. The experienced black senior geologist had been at the observatory for two days. He was due back at his desk at headquarters tomorrow on what would be his sixty-second birthday. This trip was a good break for him. The first he had made since going up to Mount McKinley in Alaska the previous fall. Endless paperwork was not his favourite pastime. Bob liked to experience some real observation work once in a while.
Bob decided to check his e-mail as he drank the second cup of coffee that morning. There were the usual spam, promotional mailings from stockbrokers tipping hot stock picks and two from holiday companies. Together with some technical updates from the team that monitored the entire Cascades range.
One item in his mailbox caught his eye, interesting him immediately. In the subject box, it said in block capital letters, INSIGHT, the sender a David Kempston. Full of apprehension at this new correspondence, Bob Staples opened the mail. Just a few minutes later, he let out a deep sigh, looking out at the massive volcanic mountain across from the Observatory. He received correspondence from Kempston a week earlier with a similar heading. But this time, what he just read shocked him.
19
At noon on Wednesday in the UK a dynamic tension filled the air in the incident room at Scunthorpe police station. Jack Ford had just put the phone down. He looked over towards where Andrew Wilson and Paul Roberts were sitting, staring back at him.
‘Well, I’ll be buggered. That was Division Headquarters over the river in Hull. They say that this elusive bastard Kempston sent them an e-mail in the night and they are forwarding it to us now. Why it has taken them twelve hours to tell us is ridiculous. Those Yorkies couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. Roberts, you ginger toe-rag go and get it for me and goodness sake cheer yourself up man!’
Roberts stood up, leaving the room to fetch the information. He did look sorry for himself, as while he was out scaring rabbits in the dark woods the other night, with the divisional police helicopter clattering overhead. His lifetime enemies Manchester United scored a second goal late in injury time.
As a result, the game finished as a draw - with one point apiece. It all now depended on the one remaining match that both teams had to play this coming weekend. To determine who would be the eventual Premier League champions. Manchester United’s final game looked a pretty easy home fixture against Sunderland, a team in the bottom six, but now safe from relegation. Liverpool was playing away at West Ham United, a much tougher game. Paul was afraid that once again his bitter enemies would be champions.
A more miserable sight you could not imagine as Paul’s face when he heard the news on the car radio. He felt devastated late that evening on his way home and had been in a sulk ever since.
Wilson asked Ford if the person on the phone gave him any clues about the content of the communication. Ford took a nip from his flask, offering it to Wilson who shook his head saying.
‘No thanks but I appreciate the offer.’ He disapproved of his superior officer drinking on duty.
‘No, they didn’t,’ Ford replied, ‘But, I hope it is a bloody confession. That will get us all out of the shit.’
‘I somehow don’t think that will be the case sir, I bet the sadistic bastard is gloating at the way he got away from us,’ Andrew said,
‘Yet my gut feeling is telling me he is not our man at all. In my experience, Doctors do not switch from preserving life to taking it.’
‘Yeah, just does not add up does it?’ Jack agreed.
‘But poachers do become gamekeepers sometimes you know, it can be vice versa.’
Roberts came back into the incident room with the papers in his hand, blurting out loud.
‘This Kempston guy says he didn’t do it. He’s never seen Kerry Harrison, the nurse murdered. He says the first he knew it was her was when he read about it in a local paper yesterday.’
Jack Ford snatched the two pages away; he should have known Roberts would have read it first. Roberts unfazed by his superior’s angry grimace added.
‘He then goes on to say he had a vision or something about needing to warn people about some disasters that are going to happen. Then when people are safe, he will come in to face the music, explaining everything to us.’
Ford read the e-mail message. Both men noticed the strange look spreading across his face as he moved to the second page. Ford, looking up, staring at the ceiling turned back to the expectant faces of his men with a sad expression. After what seemed like ages, Andrew asked.
‘So what do you think sir?’ The boss shrugged his shoulders replying,
‘I don’t know what to think Andrew. Kempston claims he filled up with fuel but can only remember a blinding white light in the sky. Then he just passed ou
t. He says then he came to, several days later in a field, making his way straight home when you two spooked him. He also remembered a series of vivid dreams he had the previous week at his home, including another one last night. He is now intent on trying to prevent millions of people dying in imminent disasters that is all he says. He also claims innocence of any crime but when ready, will give himself up to questioning. But does not say what he is going to do next, another murder perhaps?’ Ford paused then said.
‘All this last week’s events just seem so unreal. We appear to be on the brink of world war three, with the Russians and Chinese threatening us if we go into Iran to sort those bloody fundamentalists out. Major natural disasters are occurring almost every day. Making people think we are close to Armageddon. Despite it all, I still have this godforsaken job to do.
We are going to need the help of that criminal psychiatrist Sir Charles mentioned. Kempston has admitted to having visions and seems paranoid. He's talking about a conspiracy to prevent him from his goal. That in itself sounds crazy and dangerous to me. I have to admit it is getting way out of my league. I just can’t believe all these weird things are occurring at the same time.’
‘Yeah, real weird shit is going on lately that’s for sure,’ Paul Roberts agreed as he raised his ginger eyebrows.
‘Those bastards should never have scored that second goal on Monday night. The league title should have been ours.’
20
In the USA, it was the early hours of the morning in North-Western Wyoming. Situated on the North-Eastern shore of Yellowstone Lake, the second largest high altitude freshwater lake in the world, was Elmer Riley’s holiday home. Elmer leased the shack a week earlier at Sedge Bay. Just as soon as the eastern entrance road to the park opened after the winter break.
The spring came early. Elmer booked the cabin for the last time. His Native American Wife Annie recently diagnosed with advanced terminal lung cancer. They married twenty-eight years ago in Denver, far to the South in the neighbouring state of Colorado.
They raised their only son Kurt in Denver. Right up until he graduated to the famous Harvard business school. Kurt was now in his early twenties and taking some time out to join his parents up at the cabin. Kurt wanted to be present to share his dying mother's last few weeks. The Riley family rented this cabin every year on their annual vacation, usually in late June.
Elmer always knew Annie wanted to return here, to the original lands of her people, the Crow Indians, to die. Elmer made the arrangements for her remaining time to be as comfortable as possible. Just one hundred and fifty years earlier, over a hundred thousand native Crow Indians inhabited this rugged land, set amongst these beautiful hills. The Crow got driven further to the West by the Sioux Indians. The Sioux, in turn, forced West by the pale-skinned invaders with their guns.
Now only a few remained. Most of the Indians died, not as believed at the hands of the white invaders, pressing from the East in the nineteenth century. But from their devastating European diseases they brought with them. The thousands of Indian's with their horses and dogs possessed no immunity and perished.
The area was now a magnet for tourists who flocked to the Yellowstone National Park ever year. Access was often impossible in the winter. The lake freezes over by early December, remaining frozen until late May or early June. Ice three feet thick covers much of the lake, except where shallow water covers hot springs. The only outlet of the Lake is to the north into the Yellowstone River near the Fishing Bridge.
This wild un-dammed natural river, full of cut-throat trout, spills into the Missouri River to the North. The Missouri meanders to join the Mississippi, emptying into the Gulf of Mexico. Over here on the north-eastern side of the lake, it’s always tranquil and far enough away from the hordes of camera-happy tourists. They loved to hike in the area as there was a picnic area nearby. Because of the early spring this year, the lake was almost thawed out, a lot earlier than usual. There were few folks up here. The Yellowstone River was in full spate now with the melt-water of almost five feet of winter’s snow. Elmer gave his wife a painkilling Diamorphine injection when she woke up writhing in agony. Now she was asleep again but breathing with difficulty. His thoughts returned to the good days, before cancer, to happier times. He soon fell fast asleep himself, dreaming about Annie as she was before all the weight loss. The rapid wasting away had destroyed her impressive Indian features.
Elmer woke up with a start. Shaking and screaming as a loud roar shattered the stillness of the early dawn. Elmer's first thoughts were that it was a Grizzly bear down near the edge of the lakeshore, maybe searching out frozen dead fish in the margins still fresh enough to eat. Then dust cascaded down from the rafters as the whole cabin rocked from side to side. Windows broke, shelves crashed to the ground. Elmer gripped the iron frame of his bed under the thin mattress to prevent getting thrown onto the floor.
The earthquake lasted for only ninety seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. Elmer leapt from the bed, running into the next room to see how Annie was. She was half awake but delirious. Elmer reasoned her sedation meant she did not know what just happened. A violent aftershock rocked the cabin again for three seconds, almost toppling Elmer again. More dust filtered down from the roof glistening in the lamplight reflected off jagged shards of glass in the busted window.
Elmer thought about his son Kurt, shouting out to him. No answer. He went into Kurt’s room, noticing his bed still made up, but Kurt was missing. In the main room there on the table in front of the fireplace, was a note in Kurt’s untidy handwriting that read.
‘Pa, I couldn’t go to sleep for thinking about stuff. I have gone out on my bike to visit the old settler’s church by the ridge to say a prayer for Ma. See you later, Kurt.’
Checking on Annie once again, Elmer decided to go up to the church himself to make sure Kurt was okay. He put on his blue jeans, boots and cap then walked outside the cabin. He went only a few yards when he stopped dead in his tracks. In front of the cabin was a little mooring on the lake. They often used the cabin boat to go fishing in the lake for the tasty trout.
What puzzled Elmer was the bow was usually floating level with the boardwalk, which rested upon the marshy ground in which the Sedges grew. Now the boardwalk had risen with the boat floating way below it. The few willow trees on the water’s edge always used touch the water. But now he could see the water lapping around their trunks and roots. These were usually submerged under the lake, especially in the spring when the lake level was at its peak. Elmer scratched his head.
They had been up here plenty of times before, but the level was always constant in the early season. A lot of the land to the south-east of the cabin, where the sun was foretelling the dawn, was now under a couple of feet of water. These trees were now partly submerged too. Elmer strode off in the direction that Kurt must have gone, could not believe what he saw as he came around a large boulder that marked a turn in the trail twenty minutes later.
Elmer looked towards the tiny old settler church, the sight that greeted him made him shudder. The ancient wood and mountain stone building had collapsed completely. At the edge of the rubble, he could see the gleam of what looked like a chromed bicycle wheel, the shiny metal reflecting the early morning sunlight. Racing at full speed, full of trepidation, Elmer sprinted the last fifty yards.
The first settlers out here in Indian country built the small church. They made it out of wood and mountain stone almost one hundred years before, believing it an appropriate place to worship the creator of this wilderness landscape. So far above sea level right in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. The Crow Indians respected this magical wonderland too; it was a sacred place to them with a view of Eagle Peak. The magnitude of this quake proved to be too much for the shallow foundations. The rotten wooden roof beams and the entire structure collapsed inwards. Elmer threw himself into lifting rocks aside, fearful of what he would find underneath.
He was toiling for about thirty minutes. Then he discovered the c
rushed, bloody hand of his boy, trapped under a huge slab of yellow masonry. Using a fallen roof beam as a lever and straining against the weight of the rock, Elmer forced it away from his trapped son. Reaching down to Kurt he felt his neck for a pulse. His son was still alive, just. It took him another ten minutes to free him. Elmer placed the unconscious boy over his shoulders, jogging back to the cabin. He needed his truck, although no-one was within miles to help.
Sweating and panting he carried his son up onto the porch, through the door. Elmer was about to lay him down on the table when he felt Kurt shudder in his arms. Looking into his beloved son's dark brown eyes as he laid him down, he saw the life light fade away. Elmer knew the convulsion signified his only boy had just died, taking his last breath. Just gone and died right in his father's arms. Tears ran in small rivers down Elmer’s lined face. He could not believe he just lost his only son.
Could the good Lord be so cruel to take his only boy so close to when he was taking his wife too? Still crying, Elmer went to check on Annie. He knew inside that she was dead too. She lay with her brown eyes wide open and glassy, staring up at what remained of the ceiling. Annie had died alone while he was away.
Elmer wanted to be with her at the end to say goodbye to his life’s only love. Just to be there to hold her hand as she slipped from this life to join her ancestors. He was deprived of that precious moment as well. Elmer a righteous and religious man in his agony looked up at the bright blue sky through the dust particles from the hole in the roof, shaking his fists he screamed a dreadful torrent of abuse, directed at the Almighty.